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As the last traces of music echoed through the studio and faded into the air, Chanhee let out a loud groan and tumbled to the ground in exaggerated exhaustion, still somehow exhibiting a dancer's grace as he splayed his limbs on the floor. Seokwu sat down beside him, his long legs seeming even longer when stretched beside the significantly shorter Chanhee, and Sanghyeok managed to throw himself across the both of them. The other members of SF9 similarly began finding ways to unwind, and Yeongbin smiled fondly at the sight as he stepped to the side to get a drink of water. All of them were tired, but they had just finished their last repetition of choreography for the night, and some of their more playful tendencies were starting to show themselves now that working hours were done for the day. This wasn't to say that their dance practices were typically draconian in mood -- there was still plenty of laughter -- but there was less opportunity for Sanghyeok to crack a joke, or for Jaeyun to do something unpredictable, or for other forms of nonsense, when they were all so diligently concentrating on doing their best. As the leader of the fun-loving group, this was something that Yeongbin took pride in, and it gave him just as much joy to see his colleagues relax afterwards.
It wasn't long, however before the affectionate tomfoolery between them petered out. It was the end of a late night of hard work in a week that had been uncommonly full of late nights and hard work; none of them had any intention to delay their much needed rest longer than necessary. Even without sleeping immediately, it would be restorative in many ways just to be home. Members began to trickle out of the studio, each at his individual pace. This was a process that Yeongbin had observed more than once; he liked to be familiar with the predilections of his juniors because he believed it said a lot about them and how he should cater to them individually. No one had ever questioned it because it seemed to them that he was just being a responsible, protective leader in choosing to stay behind and lock up, so as he idly prepared himself to depart, Yeongbin casually but carefully watched the other members leave, trying to make note of the small changes in their behavior when they were deeply tired like they were tonight.
Juho was first to leave -- and perhaps the least likely to sleep. More likely than not, the reason he left so promptly was to get back to a song he was working on. Seokwu, Yeongkyun, and Chanhee left as a disjointed, accidental trio. Sanghyeok was very subdued as he made his exit, so quiet that almost no one noticed him leave. If he had not said a soft goodbye at the door, perhaps no one would have seen him get there. Jaeyun seemed to have more energy remaining in him than the others: he had enthusiastically said farewell to those who had left before him, and said goodbye to the few members behind him with just as wide a smile. As he walked away, Yeongbin could clearly see that he had a slight spring in his step that was lacking in everyone else. Yeongbin wondered if he had something personal to look forward to.
Yeongbin wasn't the type to constantly joke, but he found couldn't resist the urge to playfully call after Jaeyun, "Have a hot date?" as the younger man neared the door.
Jaeyun laughed mischievously. Slowly, he turned, but he didn't meet Yeongbin's eyes, instead looking past him as he answered, "Well... I suspect someone will tonight." His smile widened as he laughed again, lips pulled so far back that he almost looked like he was leering. Then he blew a kiss and was gone.
Yeongbin had no idea what to make of such an odd response, but he put it out of his mind and pulled his focus back into the dance studio. Taeyang was the last person remaining -- as usual. It wasn't enough that he had the tendency to arrive earlier than the others so he could rehearse longer, because of the type of passion that fueled him -- he also had the the habit of staying behind on some nights to practice more, and he stretched more thoroughly than any of the others after each rehearsal to prevent injury; he had been injured before, and had bitterly hated being deprived of performing. Sometimes he stayed so long that even Yeongbin left him behind, but tonight was not one such night. It did not take too much time before Taeyang had decided his muscles were loose enough, and he departed, wishing Yeongbin a good night. Yeongbin let out a heavy sigh, feeling the adrenaline leave his body and the exhaustion settle in its place as he did. Now it was his turn.
He slowly scanned the practice studio to ensure that nothing was out of order, and, with a small shout, jumped in surprise when he realized he was not alone. Someone was still in the practice room, legs drawn up, water bottle and phone hanging from slack hands, and head drooping slightly forward as he inadvertently dozed. Yeongbin's yelp jolted him to consciousness. Inseong hastily blinked away his disorientation, and the first thing he saw was the concerned gaze of his leader. They stared at each other for a moment before Yeongbin strode forward and sat on the floor beside Inseong.
Inseong followed Yeongbin with his eyes silently, and even after Yeongbin was seated, Inseong kept his gaze fixed on his profile. He wondered if Yeongbin had anything to say, but the other man remained quiet, simply looking forward. Yeongbin knew Inseong well enough to recognize that he was carrying a burden of some kind, and he was politely waiting to see if Inseong would bring it up himself. But the topic which was weighing so heavy on Inseong's mind was one he was loath to breach with Yeongbin, and which gave no quarter to any other thoughts in his head; thus, not knowing what to say to the person beside him, he eventually forced his gaze away from Yeongbin and looked forward in silence, too.
Eventually, Yeongbin could no longer hold back. Whatever Inseong's issue, he was determined to get to the bottom of it, even if it took all night. He was very much accustomed to talking all night. "Have a lot on your mind?" he asked casually.
Inseong started. He tried not to show his surprise, but he was sure it was evident to anyone with eyes. Fortunately, Yeongbin's eyes, when Inseong stole a glance his way, were turned in a different direction. Inseong kept his voice even as he looked away again and said, in an equally light tone as Yeongbin, "Why, do I not seem like myself?"
Yeongbin hummed his affirmation, surprising Inseong once more. "Not for a while now, and today proved it beyond a doubt. When's the last time you fell asleep in the studio? Not to mention that, during practice today, your dancing made it seem like you were focused on... something else," Yeongbin relayed delicately.
Inseong put down his phone to unstop the water bottle dangling in his hand and took a long draught from it. He hadn't realized his behavior had become so obvious. In that moment, he suddenly felt gratitude that their dance studio was not one with mirrored walls on all sides, or Yeongbin might have been able to discern that his face colored slightly, even without looking his way. As it was, Inseong hoped his leader hadn't noticed the flush of red in his cheeks, and he swallowed slowly before answering. "I wouldn't say I have a lot on my mind... just one thing. I apologize if it affected my performance tonight. I'll work harder in the future."
"I see." There was silence again, but a short one, before Yeongbin gave his earnest tongue free rein once again. His dedication to his SF9 members and their shared career was not something that he ever tried to hold back, but, in the unusually still and silent practice studio, alone with Inseong, he found that his passionate heart was burning distinctively warmer than it usually did; in that moment was impossible to cool his fervent compassion whatsoever, as though he were compelled to ignite life in the empty air between them. He turned to Inseong and softly called his name. Inseong took a deep breath and looked Yeongbin in the eye as the other man pressed, "I noticed that you were looking my way a lot during practice, so if it's something you want to talk to me about, please don't hesitate to come to me." Yeongbin's dark eyes blazed with warm, enthusiastic concern and, against his better judgement, Inseong found his reservations thawing in their light.
"Well," Inseong began hesitantly. When Yeongbin nodded in encouragement, he gathered his courage and forced himself to continue. "It's not just something that's bothering me... it's someone."
Yeongbin's expression of interest immediately morphed into one of dark displeasure. "Someone's bothering you?" His hands clenched into fists and his whole body tensed as he was immediately overtaken by the desire to hunt down the person in question in that very moment.
"Yes, but don't worry." Inseong smiled and put a confident hand on his own chest as he reassured Yeongbin, "I'm not in any danger." He could feel his slightly accelerated pulse under his hand. "Not physically," he whispered to himself.
"Inseong." Yeongbin paused long enough that Inseong began to wonder if he had forgotten what he wished to say. But Yeongbin was very much focused, and it was evident in the gravity of his voice as he asked, "Is this person a man or a woman?" Inseong tilted his head quizzically, unprepared for a question which seemed so inane, and Yeongbin clarified, "I want to know if I should prepare to beat someone up in the event that you get hurt."
Inseong was dumbfounded for a moment before he burst into laughter. He wrestled to speak through his mirth. "I don't think this is someone you would want to fight. It's someone you know really well -- someone who's close to both of us, in fact." He had barely finished making this vague declaration, turning away from Yeongbin to face forward again, before another few giggles slipped out of his mouth, unbidden. He knew Yeongbin was not joking, fully sincere in what he proposed, but he didn't have all the information; the outcome Inseong imagined if Yeongbin followed through on his words was simply too ridiculous not to laugh at.
Though Yeongbin felt his heart jump for joy at hearing Inseong laugh as though he was not burdened by anything, he could only wonder what was so amusing about being trapped in such an awkward predicament. "Is that so?" he said absently, losing himself in thought for a few moments as he also turned to face forward once again. "I haven't noticed you acting differently with anyone who's close to us."
I know you haven't, Inseong thought with a slight spark of frustration. But outwardly, he smiled again, the picture of poise. "Funny enough, that's the problem. We still get along fine, but I feel like we don't understand each other, and it's starting to get to me."
"What do you mean?" Yeongbin asked, now intrigued as well as concerned. The situation seemed to be more delicate than he had initially assumed, and if it could be solved in a simple, straightforward way, he was sure that Inseong never would have let it persist to the point that it interfered with his practice. Yeongbin wanted to be of assistance, but for Inseong's sake, he wanted to ensure that he fully understood the situation before trying to offer advice, or any other input, for that matter.
Inseong cleared his throat. Yeongbin waited patiently.
"It feels like the person isn't acknowledging me or what I say," Inseong tried to explain. "As though my thoughts and feelings aren't truly being considered. Normally I would just say it's all due to miscommunication and misunderstandings, but it's happening so frequently that, at this point, I've started to wonder if it's purposeful."
A slight frown crept onto Yeongbin's face. He certainly sympathized with Inseong, but he also found it was exceedingly easy to imagine and empathize with the plight of the other party. In his efforts to be an attentive leader to SF9, Yeongbin knew firsthand how difficult it could be to decipher any kind of indirect message from others, even those that he spent a great deal of time with. He wondered if that made him more or less qualified to offer his help. Regardless, he spoke.
"Are you sure you're being as clear as you think you are?" he asked, deciding to play the devil's advocate. For though he often he provided his coworkers and friends with the support they needed when they needed it -- whether or not they realized that they had been asking for it -- he believed it better not to involve himself if he might ruin or worsen a situation by making the wrong move. Thus he expended far more time and energy questioning and second-guessing his interpretations than actually acting on them. Yeongbin himself had, for months now, been embroiled in a situation in which he was unsure of what to do or say for fear of being presumptuous. It involved someone close to him, just as Inseong's situation did, and though he had tried his best to move past it, he couldn't deny that it continued to frustrate him. Perhaps that was the motivation behind his somewhat accusatory question to Inseong (though he told himself he simply wanted to ensure that Inseong was appreciating both sides of the conflict, so that a peaceful resolution could be achieved).
In response to the question, Inseong sighed and drew his knees up under his chin. When he spoke again, his voice was softer and more pensive. "Honestly, I don't know. Jaeyun says I'm too clever for my own good, that it's making me be too indirect, and that anyone who's busy and involved with many people won't have time to parse through multiple layers of meaning. And since it's someone who already knows me, it might go unnoticed that I'm trying to express new... new opinions."
"Jaeyun actually has a point there," Yeongbin said, marginally surprised by the fact. "Even though it's bothering you this much, the other person might not even realize anything has changed. I know this is easier said than done, but... what's the worst thing that could happen if you were just honest?"
Inseong huffed sardonically. "It could permanently damage our relationship if it's something they don't want to hear, have a negative effect on the people around us, and potentially harm my career."
Yeongbin blinked. "Ah." He had no response to the set of complications that were eerily similar to the ones he brought up in his debates with himself. He was silent for a time before he confessed, "If it makes you feel any better, I think I know a bit what this is like."
Inseong cast a look at Yeongbin from the corner of his eye. "It does not make me feel better, because I highly doubt it."
Yeongbin had not really been expecting an answer to his empty consolation, let alone one which was so forceful. "What makes it so hard to believe that I could have a personal problem similar to yours?" he asked, almost indignant.
Inseong shook his head, lifting it from his knees. "It's not you couldn't have --" He stopped, sighed, then started again. "You're a much more straightforward person, than I am, Yeongbin," he said, with clear admiration. "You say what you mean and mean what you say, no hiding, no embellishments. Not getting a straight answer from you basically means that you never gave an answer at all. It's hard to imagine that you'd ever be in a situation where you wouldn't be able to get through to someone." Though he tried his best to hide it, Inseong could hear a tinge of jealousy seep into his voice.
Yeongbin heard it, too. "Inseong, I'm flattered, but there is such a thing as being too straightforward, you know. It can make you ignorant about how to handle things tactfully. You are a master of tact," he complimented.
Inseong refocused his gaze from the middle distance and turned his head to look at Yeongbin. A flicker of a smile twitched on his lips at the other man's words. "Perhaps you have a point. Would you mind telling me if some of the things I've said to this person have been too 'tactful' to be noticed?" he asked wryly.
"No problem," Yeongbin agreed easily.
"Here's an example: one time, the other person and I were helping someone else with high school math problems, but this student was smart, and didn't really need our help. So while the two of us weren't doing anything, I mentioned that my favorite number was the solution to 128 times the square root of e times 980." Inseong recited the equation rapidly, as though it were a common one that everyone knew. "Is that not adequately straightforward?" he concluded.
Yeongbin paused, perplexed by Inseong's surety. "I don't see how...," he eventually said. "How could an equation like that tell anyone anything?"
Inseong met Yeongbin's eyes. "He didn't take me seriously, either; he just brushed it off as a cheesy joke... but you know what the solution is, right?" he insisted.
Yeongbin, trying to determine the significance of such a seemingly random equation (even as a faint memory of it stirred in the back of his mind), shook his head slowly. Inseong picked up his phone from the floor beside him and opened a notepad app. He wrote each character very deliberately, and with each stroke of his finger, understanding bloomed more vividly in Yeongbin's eyes.
Just as Inseong wrote the 0 in 980, Yeongbin said, "I was wrong. I know the answer to this. It's 2."
Inseong's hand froze -- his whole body froze -- and he sighed so heavily that Yeongbin could have counted the centimeters that his shoulders rose and fell. "At this rate, you're going to have to beat yourself up, you know," he said quietly. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to gather his patience, but he suddenly found that he had none left. All that talk of tactfulness had apparently robbed him of his.
Before Yeongbin could reply, Inseong exclaimed, "It's you, idiot!" His head snapped up to look at Yeongbin plaintively as months and months of pent-up emotion finally unleashed themselves from carefully constructed confinements. He had known from the outset, when Yeongbin had given him that encouraging nod, that it would be reckless to discuss this particular issue with Yeongbin... but he hadn't been able to resist those warm eyes, eyes that were now wide with surprise at Inseong's outburst, eyes that were so kind and inviting and made Inseong believe that he would never be alone. Of course, that was the crux of the issue itself: Inseong couldn't resist him. He was helpless in every way when it came to Yeongbin, the man he was desperately in love with. "Don't you realize that my problem -- ?"
Inseong fell suddenly silent when he realized that Yeongbin's expression of surprise had given way a faint but nonetheless captivating smile. Inseong cocked his head and looked at him, tongue-tied by confusion and attraction, and Yeongbin couldn't help but chuckle softly. Though it was prompted by Inseong's behavior, which he found both adorable and alluring, it was a sound mixed with exasperation at himself, and pure relief. True, he had missed all the hints, but Yeongbin had been afraid that he had only been seeing the signs that he had desperately wanted to see. Where most people were wary of assuming too much, oftentimes Yeongbin erred by assuming too little. Now that Inseong had left no room for doubt, Yeongbin was emboldened, feeling absolutely free to say what he had always feared to say, what had always been on his heart. He brought his first two fingers up into Inseong's field of vision, before gently hooking them under Inseong's chin.
"2," Yeongbin repeated as he leaned closer, his smile growing the slightest bit bigger as Inseong's eyes widened. "I love you, too."