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Hong Joochan is…

Hong Joochan is young, with sharp, slanted eyes and high cheeks and is a little (very much) of an idiot, is what Sungyoon thinks when the higher schooler joins the company. His dancing can use… quite a bit of work, to say, but his voice is a treasure and miracle to witness and quickly shines above the rest. He’s loud and brash and gets along with most of the trainees and fights too much with the ones he doesn’t. He cheats on diets far too much, hiding in the bathroom slurping cup noodles, where he thinks Sungyoon can’t see or hear him. 

(He can.)

And Joochan is scared of Sungyoon, scared of the stern set of his jaw and the harshness in his voice whenever he addresses the younger. It’s clear from the way Joochan flinches whenever he stumbles over a dance move and then glances wildly in Sungyoon’s direction, clearly hoping against hope that Sungyoon hasn’t noticed. 

Sungyoon takes pity on the boy’s wide, terrified eyes, and takes a sudden interest in the wall.

Slowly, slowly, things start to change, and Sungyoon’s not sure exactly when they do. Maybe it’s when he finds out they share birthdays, or maybe when he peeks into the practice room at the dead of the night to find Joochan hard at work, doing his best to follow all the advice Sungyoon had given him, or maybe it’s when he nicks himself and finds a bandaid and ointment snuck into his bag and a very jumpy Joochan watching him from afar, trying to gauge his reaction. 

(Hong Joochan is sweet and considerate and has a funny laugh and a pretty voice, Sungyoon thinks.)

Joochan approaches him on his own one day, voice stuttered and nervous as he asks if Sungyoon can stay longer to help him with his movements, and really, it’s just a downhill trip from there.

Somewhere along the way, late nights of dance practice become late nights of talking softly, seated next to each other, the distance between their hands decreasing until their fingers are loosely intertwined, and before Sungyoon knows it, they become late nights of kissing, kissing some more, kissing until they’re breathless and waking up in a tangle of limbs, breaths mingling. 

They’re seated next to each other on one such day, close enough they can feel and hear the other’s breathing. Sungyoon focuses on the sound of Joochan’s. In, out. In, out. 

“Hyung?” Sungyoon hums in acknowledgment. 

From where his head is resting on his knees, Joochan’s peeks up at him with hopeful eyes and even if he’s trying to hide it, Sungyoon can read him like a book. “We’ll be on the same stage together, right?”

Sungyoon huffs out a breath. “How many more times are you going to ask?” Still, Joochan isn’t appeased. 

He holds out a pinky. “Promise?” Sungyoon rolls his eyes, but brings up his own pinky anyways, linking it with Joochan’s.

“Promise.”

Sungyoon breathes in the chilly winter air, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he checks the road both ways before he begins to cross. 

That had been three years ago, and all that’s left of it is the hazy memories of Joochan’s touch, the ghost of a broken promise between them, and texts dating two years back.

There had been no debuting, no reaching their dreams on the same stage.

No, they’d been found out.

He remembers it like it was yesterday: remembers the squeeze of Joochan’s hand before they had entered the office, remembers the blood draining from both their faces as they had been requested to leave the company, remembers Joochan pleading and begging desperately, the not now! Not when we’re so close! clinging to his words as Sungyoon had stood stock-still behind him, mind nothing but a rush of white.

There had been nothing else to do but silently pack their bags and walk out just as silently. As if to reflect the dreadful day, the sun hid behind the clouds and the sky began to cry, cold rain pelting them from above, and that had been what it took for Joochan to break.

He’d sunk down to his knees, curling up on the pavement, crying and crying and crying as the reality of the situation hit him; and it hit Sungyoon at that moment too, and then they were both crying, clinging to each other’s wet shirts, the rain hiding their tears. 

“I-is it that wrong, h-hyung?” Joochan had asked between sobs. “T-to love the person… the p-person I want to love?” 

And Sungyoon hadn’t found an answer to that. All he had been able to do at that moment was pull the younger closer to him until the rain stopped and their tears with it. 

After that, they’d joined different agencies to continue pursuing their dreams, and kept in contact, but only for a little bit. Nothing had been the same, and it had been then Sungyoon had discovered the saying “distance makes the heart fonder” was a load of bullshit. Meeting each other reminded them of the pain and their selfishness that had brought upon their doom. Conversations were stilted and tension stretched between them, taut like a tightly-pulled string. 

Meetings and calls grew less and less frequent, and it had become the norm for Sungyoon to go days and weeks without seeing Joochan’s face or hearing his voice. Their texts were the only thing that held the last pieces of their relationship together, and then those too became less and less frequent. 

And then one day, Joochan had never texted back.

The words “let’s break up” had never been said aloud, but the silence had conveyed more than enough.

And now, two years later, he hasn’t heard a word from Joochan since. Sungyoon knows that just like him, Joochan had debuted in a group recently, in remarkably close timing to Sungyoon’s own debut. Even after everything, the world stubbornly clung to the uncanny similarities between them. Thinking about it has Sungyoon’s heart throbbing. 

He sees him on TV sometimes—Joochan looks just as bright and sweet and enthusiastic as Sungyoon remembers, the younger having no problems in claiming the main vocalist position in his group, just as Sungyoon had in his own. 

(They had been supposed to be main vocalists together, not separately. Isn’t that what they had promised to each other?

Sungyoon bites his tongue and tries to forget.)

Joochan pulls off the cute concept remarkably well, with just the right amount of smile, passion, and boyish charm. Sungyoon smiles wryly. He had always been a cute one, after all.

A snowflake lands on Sungyoon’s nose, melting upon impact. He wonders if Joochan sees him on TV too. He wonders if Joochan misses him just as much as Sungyoon misses him, he wonders if Joochan thinks about him daily just as Sungyoon does, the thought of Joochan nestled away in the back of his mind (if not the forefront) but always there, no matter what. 

He swallows his thoughts and pushes open the door to the dorms. 

“I’ve heard that Y-ssi is close to one of the members of Golden, specifically, their main vocalist, Joochan-ssi! Is this true, Y-ssi?”

The question comes out of the blue during one of their shootings, smacking Sungyoon in the face and rendering him speechless. It’s only thanks to his year’s worth of training and exposure to publicly stressful situations that he’s able to keep his expression blank, even as his mind is reeling in surprise from the question.

This hadn’t been part of the script!

As subtle as he can be, he shoots an alarmed look at his members, noting how they look just as taken aback as him, before sneaking a look back at the host. She’s watching him with hungry eyes and Sungyoon knows that whatever he does right now, whether it be words or actions, can be used against him. Distaste threatens to curl his lips. He quickly pushes it away and up into a smile.

Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised: the media had been quite interested in the reason behind their suspicious departures from their original company, especially so close to their debut. Even three years later, it seems that they’re bent on figuring it out.

He musters up a laugh. All his years of idol training pays off because it comes out sweet and genuine. “Yes, it’s true,” he answers coolly. “Joochan… Joochan-ssi is a good hoobae of mine.” The formal honorific attached to Joochan’s name sounds alien on his tongue. 

“Oh? Only a hoobae? I’ve heard that Y-ssi trained together with Joochan-ssi for a while.” Sungyoon’s fingers twitch and he shoves them under his thighs. It’s a relief when she doesn’t press any further and instead continues, “recently, Golden debuted only three days after GNCD did. Fans are calling the groups ‘fraternal twins’ because of the similarities between the groups! Did you two congratulate each other on your debuts?” 

Congratulate Joochan on his debut? Of course he hasn’t. He hasn’t talked to him in two years- 

And it suddenly hits him there. He hasn’t talked to Joochan in two years. 

A chill creeps it’s way through his body, up his spine, down his arms, an overwhelming urge to bolt and think seizing him. But both the host and his members, not to mention the crew, are watching him expectantly, waiting for his answer. A chuckle that he hopes doesn’t sound as forced as it feels escapes from his throat as he racks his mind. 

“We’ve been… We’ve both been very busy with our debut and schedules that it seems that neither of us got the chance to,” he says smoothly. The excuse is incredibly lame; it sounds weak even to his own ears. 

Thankfully, the host takes it in stride, nodding sympathetically. “Idol life is very hard, with little to no time to retain relationships-” Sungyoon’s heart lurches, a sliver of panic creeping up “-or friendships. Which is why we have prepared for a surprise, just for you. You’ll be sending a video message that will be shared with Joochan-ssi.” She fixes Sungyoon with a bright smile. He blinks back at her. 

“Sorry, a… a video message? To Joochan-ah—ahem, Joochan-ssi?” He’s having difficulty wrapping his mind around it.

“Yes, to congratulate him on his debut!” Somehow, Sungyoon’s able to hold back the choked noise that threatens to fall from his lips. 

He’s expected to just… suddenly leave a message for Joochan? Who he hasn’t talked to for years? What will Joochan even think-

There’s no time to grasp the bizarreness of the situation because the time for Sungyoon’s segment is running out and the camera is already focused on him, and there’s nothing he can do but arrange his features and flash his best smile. 

He offers a wave, fingers stiff to keep them from possibly trembling. Stay calm, he tells himself. The probability of Joochan even seeing his… video message is close to none. He sucks in a breath. “Hey, J-Joochan-ah-” Sungyoon curses in his head. Not only has he stuttered two words into the message, but he’s also switched the honorific because of his force of habit. He holds back from smacking himself. “Congrats on your debut in Golden. I-”

There’s so much, too much, Sungyoon wants to say. 

I… what? 

I wish you had texted back?

I wish I could have kept my promise?

I wish we were on one stage, not separate ones?

I miss you?

(I love you?)  

“I knew you’d do it,” is what he gets out, chest trembling from the effort it takes to keep out his inner turmoil from his words. “I’m… I’m proud of you,” he continues, voice growing softer. “Let’s both grow and become successful.” Sungyoon brings up his fists, shaking them gently. “Golden and GNCD fighting!” 

And then one last sentence, in a breathless rush. “Let’s talk soon.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause before the host claps her hands with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sure Joochan-ssi will be quite happy to finally hear congrats from his senior.” She shifts the papers in her lap again. “Now, Jangjun-ssi, I’ve heard that-”

Sungyoon breathes an unnoticeable sigh of relief as she turns to his member, who immediately takes the chance to show off his variety show skills. Now that the spotlight isn’t on him, he registers how his heart is hammering against his chest, how his hands are clammy with sweat. It’s almost hilarious, how simply the prospect of interacting with Joochan in any way has him so worked up.

He remains slightly out of it through the remainder of the shooting, but just enough that he can still have the appropriate reactions at the right timing. They’re heading out when Jangjun wraps an arm around his shoulders in a friendly gesture, before dipping down to whisper, “hyung, you good? You’ve been kinda out of it… Since they asked you about the Golden member...” The last part is mumbled out as an afterthought, but he stiffens anyway. 

Seems like he hadn’t been subtle enough in his zoning out. He nods jerkily, quickening his pace. “Just a little headache.” Jangjun’s expression clearly states that he’s not convinced, but he drops his arm all the same and doesn’t press any further. 

And that’s the end of it.

(Or so he thinks.)

Fate has a strange way of making things happen. Sungyoon’s just scrolling through Twitter on his phone on the couch, guzzling water at an alarming speed, while Jangjun, seated in front of him, lazily flicks through channels on the TV, before settling on one. Sungyoon looks up without much interest.

It’s the same show they had been guests on a week ago. Their episode had been scheduled to air the day before, so it clearly isn’t them on the screen. He squints. Yet, the group on the screen is still familiar-

“-we have a special message just for you, Joochan-ssi!” Sungyoon’s blood chills and he nearly chokes on the water he’d been draining. 

It freezes impossibly more as the camera pans to a far too familiar face, with the same fox eyes, same twinkling eyes, same high cheeks, just as Sungyoon remembers, the only thing different the blonde, rather than brown, locks that now frame his face. There’s a look of confusion on his face as the host addresses him. Sungyoon wants to scream.

No, no, no, why-

He has half the mind to yank the remote out of Jangjun’s hands and turn the TV off, but it’s almost as if he’s actually frozen, not able to to look away and only able to watch as his own face fills up the screen, with Joochan in the tiny corner, watch as Joochan’s expression stiffens from shock and his eyes go wide, but only for a fraction of a second before it smooths over. The flicker in his expression is so subtle that only Sungyoon, who had been intimately familiar with each and every detail about Joochan, can notice. 

His eyes are as twinkly as they always are, but even more so as he watches recorded-Sungyoon spill out a generic message, and then there’s a little quirk of a smile gracing his lips as recorded-Sungyoon shakes his fists in encouragement and then replaced by a gentle parting of lips as recorded-Sungyoon blurts out “let’s talk soon-” 

Sungyoon looks away from the screen as it focuses back onto Joochan. It’s a little hard to breathe, with all the thoughts rushing through his head, with his heart throbbing against his ribcage like it always seems to do whenever Joochan is in the picture. 

What had been Joochan thinking right then, after seeing Sungyoon, who he had never texted back, blurting out such an obvious cry? How did he feel about it? Had he been surprised? Embarrassed? Affected? Shaken?

Forcing himself to look back at the screen, he watches Joochan’s expressions in a desperate attempt to figure out his thoughts, but just like him, Joochan’s idol training has clearly paid off, because he gleans nothing from studying his face, the other maintaining a stoic expression.

“Why don’t you send a message?” The host suggests, to Sungyoon’s horror. He’s sure that Joochan will refuse or laugh it off and say that he’ll instead text Sungyoon, but instead, his horror grows tenfold as Joochan agrees enthusiastically, eyes wandering as he searches for which camera to face.

A message—he’s going to send a message back to Sungyoon-

“Hey, hyung!” Joochan’s waving with both his hands, eyes scrunched up in cute crescents, and all Sungyoon can think about is all the times before the same expression had been directed at him firsthand, and not through a screen- 

-when he’d complimented Joochan on his vocals and the other had turned bright red from the praise, when they’d laid side-to-side after an excruciating session of practice and Joochan had cracked a joke so stupid that Sungyoon had snorted, when they’d walked to the local coffee shop, their joined hands stuffed in his pocket, Joochan’s nose pink from the cold, when-

-he’s still in love with Hong Joochan, he realizes. 

(Maybe he’s known it all along, only pushed it to the back of his mind, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge it until it became coated in dust and sticky with cobwebs.)

“Thanks for the message! I’ve been so busy that I hadn’t even thought of messaged you, haha.” He’s rubbing the back of his head, flashing a cute smile that will no doubt have his fans cooing. Sungyoon can barely hear him over his crippling realization. “Congrats on your debut in GNCD! Let’s become amazing idols and be successful, together.”

Together, together. 

Together. 

The word keeps echoing in his mind, bouncing off of the walls of his head and refusing to leave. It opens up too many possibilities, reminds him of too many things.

(“We’ll be on the same stage together, right?”

“How many more times are you going to ask?” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”) 

“GNCD and Golden fighting! Let’s grab tteokbokki together next time, my treat!” The camera swivels away from his face and pans over to the host, leaving Sungyoon alone with his swirling thoughts. The host introduces another member, the sound of the TV only background noise over the rushing of his thoughts. 

What can it mean? He can chalk it up to Joochan fibbing to preserve his and Sungyoon’s images, but his words, his smile, his eyes—it all had felt too honest, too genuine to simply be an arrangement of sugar-coated lies-

-and once again, he’s at a loss when it comes to Hong Joochan.

Inhaling deeply, he reaches for his phone to busy himself once more, only to catch Jangjun’s eye in the process. The younger is surveying him puzzlingly, hints of realization creeping onto his face. He must have been watching Sungyoon’s reactions the entire time, Sungyoon realizes. Shit. He’s never explained his past relationship with Joochan or his reason for leaving his previous company with any of the members before.

“Jangjun-ah-” He starts, stopping immediately as he finds himself tongue-tied. What can he even say that won’t put himself in jeopardy? You’re wondering why am I so worked up about him? Well, he’s just my ex—well, I think he's my ex—that I kind of never broke up with. Oh yeah, and our relationship’s the reason we got kicked out too! 

The relief that floods Sungyoon as Jangjun puts up his hand is almost embarrassing. “It’s fine, hyung,” he says, a reassuring smile wrinkling his eyes. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles. Jangjun nods with a look that says anytime before he turns his attention back to the screen. 

A comfortable silence (as comfortable as it can be with Sungyoon’s thoughts swimming with Joochan, Joochan, and more Joochan) descends over them, tinged with trust and gratitude.

The day after the episode featuring Golden airs, Sungyoon opens his Twitter to a surprise. And not necessarily a good one. 

He doesn’t notice something’s wrong until he checks the trending tab, a peculiar tag standing out. 

Trending in South Korea

#wajoo

6k tweets 

The tag piques his interest. Wajoo? That’s certainly a strange word… name, whatever it may be. Curiously, he taps on it. 

He wishes he hadn’t.

Out of everything he may have been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been to find himself staring back at his very own face. And not only is it his face, it’s his face from his time at his previous company, accompanied by another familiar face: Joochan. Their smiling faces beam back up at him from his screen, completely oblivious of what would become of them in the future. 

What. 

Huh

Why is his and Joochan’s old picture the first tweet in the trending tag?! 

All it takes is a little scrolling to realize that indeed, the topic of the tag is-  

Joochan and him. Specifically, their seemingly unlikely friendship. The tag is filled with old pictures they’d taken together and posted on their previous company’s trainee Instagram account, posts and moments that suggest they were close friends, and fans cooing over their video messages on the variety show. 

Sungyoon stares dumbly at the tweets as he scrolls past them, not quite believing what he’s seeing.

@ *****

everyone talking about y-oppa’s and joochan-oppa’’s friendship made me go look around for more and i found this on *****’s trainee instagram account! look how cute they are~

@*****

i knew they were trainees at the same company before but didn’t think they were this close wow

@*****

kekekeke joochannies cheeks are soft and round like a baby’s

@*****

look at joochan’s smile~ he must really love his hyung 

@*****

sungyoon switching his honorifics, hm… 

A tweet catches his eyes that makes his breath catch, his finger stalling in their scrolling. 

@*****

did their departure from ***** have to do anything with each other?

There are no likes, comments, or retweets on the tweet. Sungyoon’s chest loosens, embarrassment running over him immediately after. Why is he being paranoid? It’s not as if a random stranger on the Internet will be able to find anything about their past relationship and use it against either of them.

The most-liked tweet in the tag is a two-minute long video with nothing but an audio icon; Sungyoon recognizes it as soon as he clicks unmute, the sound of Joochan giggling filling his ears, Sungyoon’s voice coming in soon enough, berating him and telling him to get serious. 

He remembers it far too well—while the two of them had covered several songs together for both practice and their own leisure, they had especially liked the result of this one and had posted it. 

Past-Joochan’s laughs fade away as he answers Sungyoon. The playfulness in their voices has a wave of emotion crashing over Sungyoon, rendering him unable to do anything but listen. 

“I am serious,” past-Joochan huffs out. 

“Then act like it,” past-Sungyoon replies. 

The first notes of the song begin to play, and Joochan starts to sing and-

Suddenly, Sungyoon’s there, sitting in the cramped vocal room with Joochan, mic in hand as he watches Joochan, the other’s eyes shut tightly. Joochan’s always been the most beautiful when he performs, and right then, it had been no different, with his lashes fluttering with every syllable, fingers clenched over his heart, face scrunched with emotion. And then Sungyoon’s raising his own mic, singing the next lines, and then they’re singing together, and Joochan’s eyes are now open and he’s looking into Sungyoon’s so fondly and-

-the audio ends and Sungyoon is back in his dorm room, staring at his phone, drowning in his memories and hopes and the ache in his heart. 

The hundreds of comments are filled with astonished fans acclaiming how their voices suit each other so well, demanding for a collaboration between the two idols—with the number of retweets and likes the tweet has, it’s no surprise that the majority of the tweets under the tag are in a similar state of the comments—fans demanding for a collaboration. 

@*****

gncd #y and golden #joochan collab please ! #wajoo

@*****

if i don’t get a collab between my faves what’s the point of living #wajoo

@*****

@****** @****** GIVE US WAJOO COLLAB YOU FOOLS

@*****

okay but like am i the only one who lowkey ships wajoo 

@*****

if wajoo had a collaboration i think i would actually pass away

@*****

prayer circle for wajoo collab 

@*****

i’m about to make a petition, i need for them to do another duet #wajoo

A collaboration? Between him and Joochan? The idea is so preposterous it makes Sungyoon laugh. He doesn’t like disappointing his fans, but this… this is an impossible request. He hasn’t associated with, let alone talked to, Joochan in…

Well, that’s not quite true, is it? After all, he’d sent a video message to Joochan. And received one in response… In fact, it seems that in these last few very strange days, he’s interacted with the other more than he has in the past years. A message back and forth, and now they’re trending on Twitter, their fans demanding a collaboration. It’s all too baffling. 

Thinking about it, thinking about if Joochan has seen the tag, thinking about what his reaction might be, hurts his head so he instead faceplants back onto his bed and falls into a restless sleep, with only one thought in his head.

It’ll never happen. 

(But once again, fate has a strange way of making things happen.) 

“Seems like Golden’s having a comeback,” Jangjun calls from where he's hanging upside-down from the top bunk. “A day after ours too, woah. I see why our fans call us fraternal twins—these coincidences are getting out of hand.” Sungyoon doesn’t offer any response other than a hum of acknowledgment, engrossed in his screen. Undeterred, Jangjun continues. “I doubt either of us will have a chance at the music shows since our seniors are promoting at the same time, but this means that maybe, we’ll run into them while promoting…” He twists around so he’s facing Sungyoon now. “Hey, doesn’t this mean you’ll see that Golden member? What was it…” 

“...Joochan?”

Sungyoon’s whole body jerks at the name, head snapping up so quickly he nearly gets whiplash. “What-” He stops when his gaze lands on Jangjun, who’s cracking up at his reaction. “Har, har. Hilarious,” he says flatly, unamused.

It does nothing to deter Jangjun, who continues laughing as he pulls himself back up onto his bed. “I still don’t know what’s up with you and him, but you’d better get your shit together, especially since our group’s promotion schedules are the same now—sooner or later, you’ll have to talk to him.”

The older groans silently in response.  “I don’t need to hear it from you,” he grouses, abandoning his phone in favor of rolling over and throwing an arm over his eyes. He knows Jangjun’s right—if Golden are indeed having their comeback the day after GNCD’s, he’s bound to run into Joochan. The prospect of seeing Joochan face-to-face, conversing with him, fills Sungyoon with several contrasting feelings all at once: butterflies, excitement, apprehension, nausea. 

“I saw that you two were trending a few days ago,” Jangjun’s voice floats down to him again. “I, for one, think that a collab is a great-” Sungyoon immediately cuts him off.

“No.”

“Why not? It would be great exposure for GNCD.” Jangjun’s voice takes on a teasing edge. “Too scared of facing your ex who kicked you to the curb?”

Yes. “No, that’s not why-” He pauses, processing the other’s words. “Wait—how do you know that?”

There’s the sound of shuffling as Jangjun eases himself off his bed and climbs down the ladder, jumping off at the last few steps. He lands with a soft thump. He grins. “I don’t. I mean, I didn’t. I just assumed, you just confirmed.” 

Sungyoon stares at him in disbelief, before dropping his head in defeat. He’s played himself right into Jangjun’s hands. “You’re-”

“Incredible? Amazing? Spectacular? I agree too.” Sungyoon takes another moment to try and make sense of the enigma that is Lee Jangjun. 

“-unbelievable,” he finishes. Jangjun emits a noise of disappointment. 

“Not what I prefer, but…” He makes a show of thinking over it. “Not the worst. I accept!”

“Unbelievable,” Sungyoon mutters. Jangjun pretends not to hear him.

There’s a stretch of silence in which Sungyoon keeps his head buried in his pillow and Jangjun does… whatever it is that Jangjun does before he speaks up again. “He’s… he’s not exactly my ex. And didn’t exactly kick me to the curb either. Though it would have been probably better if he had,” he adds. 

Even without any response from the other, he knows that Jangjun is listening to him intently. He trudges on. “The reason we left—it’s more accurate to say expelled from—from the company was because—well, we were dating.” Jangjun mumbles a quiet, unsurprised “knew it.” “Someone found out and one thing led to another and we were asked to leave.”

“And so we left without any other choice. That experience, losing our dream when it was within our grasp… soured our relationship. We couldn’t look at each other the same way, not when our relationship reminded us that it was the very reason we lost our chance, and if only we hadn’t been selfish, we could have achieved our dream-” 

“That’s bullshit.” Sungyoon’s head jerks up from where he’d had it buried, blinking owlishly at Jangjun. “It’s not… It’s not selfish to love someone—even if it got in the way of your dreams-” He scowls deeply, “loving another person isn’t wrong—it can’t be stopped, we’re human. And all that about ‘losing your chance,’ look at you two now. You’ve both achieved your dreams after all, haven’t you? Just because one chance is lost doesn’t mean it’s not possible to aim for the second chance.”

“Thank… thank you,” Sungyoon says, taken aback by the passionate outburst. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Jangjun be this serious and heated about something that didn’t have to do with his performance skills. Even if his words come out surprised, it’s genuine; just by Jangjun’s words, he feels lighter, the guilt that had clung to his heart for years just the slightest bit thawed. “Sorry. I should be the one listening to your problems but I’m dumping everything on you instead.” 

Jangjun waves the words away. “You’re always listening and giving us solutions to all our problems, I only think it’s fit to do the same for you,” he says. His lips quirk up in a smile. “You can’t expect to be our therapist but walk around with all your feelings all bottled up.” 

Sungyoon smiles lightly. “You may be right. If I weren’t here you’d all become a pack of angsty adults like me.” 

Jangjun swats him. “I regret inflating your ego, just continue.” Sungyoon laughs a little before his smile disappears as he picks up from where he’d left off.

“After that, as expected, our relationship only deteriorated. We stopped meeting each other, and then eventually calls became rare and then texts even rare and well,” he shrugs noncommittally, like it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. “I never got a text back.”

“Ouch.” A laugh bubbles to his lips. It can all be summed up in one word: ouch. “That sure sounds like being kicked to the curb to me.” Sungyoon sighs. 

What had he been expecting to hear anyway? That his relationship with Joochan will be able to be magically mended?

Of course it won’t. 

“But…” Jangjun rubs his chin, deep in thought. “I could’ve sworn he was being genuine when he reacted to your video message and in his one back.” Despite himself, despite knowing that there’s no point in getting his hopes up, Sungyoon’s heart leaps to his throat.

He dares to ask. “Do you… do you think there’s…” any hope for us? is what he wants to ask, but the words don’t come out. Jangjun smiles lightly.

“Well that’s up to you, isn’t it?” 

Comebacks are always a stressful time, even more so since GNCD is only a rookie group, and nothing else but perfection is expected from them. Thankfully, while exhausting, it had been running smoothly. Just like Jangjun had said, against their seniors, they were nothing but specks of dust; it was an honor enough to even be nominated against them.

They make it to the third day of promotions, and somehow, by pure luck, they have yet to run into Golden at any of their music shows. And Sungyoon is bent on keeping it that way if only to preserve his mental capacity.

It’s just his luck then that no sooner has the thought entered his mind when the door to the waiting room bursts open, a group of five filing in, chattering loudly. By their volume alone, he would have thought there’s more than five of them. 

He pauses. Wait. Which group of five is also promoting at the same time as them-

His question is answered when there’s a loud shout of “Seungminnie!” His own member jerks up just in time to hold his hands up to defend himself as an armful of tall and broad launches itself into his arms. To be precise, TAG, or Son Youngtaek, of Golden.

Distantly, Sungyoon remembers Seungmin off-handedly mentioning that he was good friends with Golden’s main rapper. 

Golden… in this very room… which meant…

His eyes move of their own accord, gaze sliding left, trailing past Seungmin gently shoving Youngtaek off of himself, past the two who must Golden’s visuals with how their faces scream beauty, past one who’s staring off into space, and-

There he is. 

And he’s looking right back at Sungyoon. 

Just for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of them. Just Sungyoon and Joochan with his freshly-dyed brown hair, hair that Sungyoon would card his fingers through oh-so often, eyes that Sungyoon had admired numerous times now dusted in pale pink, lips that he’d pressed kisses to, shiny with pink gloss, and he’s overcome with an intense urge to throw all caution into the wind and sprint forward and wrap Joochan up in his arms and kiss his forehead and whisper into his ear everything he’s wanted to say over the course of the last two years-

(I love you, I love you, Iloveyou-)

Joochan eyes widen and Sungyoon can almost see the gears in his head working as he registers who exactly he’s staring at. His body wrenches in the opposite direction, subtle as ever. Sungyoon quickly glances around; no one has noticed their strange reactions to each other yet, too preoccupied with exchanging polite greetings and bowing to one another. Joochan doesn’t look back at him, seemingly determined to shuffle out as soon as possible. Sungyoon can work with that plan, at least. 

Yeah. He can work with it. Let Joochan walk away from him and not look back, let his possibly one and only chance with Joochan slip away from his grasp, just like their dreams had, just like their relationship had. It’s ideal, really. The two of them can go on their merry way and live their separate lives and never speak again, and Sungyoon will be fine with it. He will.

The churning in his gut tells him otherwise. It tells him that if Joochan passes by him right now without looking back, Sungyoon will reach forward and grab his wrist, he’ll pull him back, he’ll spill things he’d kept buried for so long. 

It’s not ideal, really. But Joochan’s two steps away from him and his body is moving before he can think, reaching forward-

-except, Jangjun takes notice of Seungmin and Youngtaek snapping pictures together, and ever the extrovert, shouts excitedly that they should all pair up and take pictures, and Sungyoon is sufficiently distracted by his proposal and Joochan has no choice but to retreat further back once again.

It’s a terrible idea, but only Sungyoon seems to think so because the members of both groups are pairing up naturally like they were born to do so—Seungmin and Youngtaek remained glued together, Youngtaek’s cheek squished against Seungmin’s, and the pretty member who must be Golden’s visual approaches Donghyun, who, to Sungyoon’s shock, blushes pink and tentatively peeks into the camera with him, and Daeyeol is shrugging and slinging an arm around the shoulder of the other pretty boy. 

Sungyoon turns to the closest one, the one staring off into space, but then Jangjun’s crashing in, grabbing him and dragging him off. He sends an overexaggerated wink over his shoulder, and it takes a little too long for Sungyoon to register the meaning behind it. 

He should’ve known Jangjun would have something up his sleeve!

Sungyoon thinks he can hear the sound of his soul leaving his body as he and Joochan stare at each other, twin realization dawning on their faces as they look at each other and then at all the matched up pairs around them. 

Sure, Sungyoon’s imagined this scenario, in which he’d speak to Joochan again a thousand times, but never had he imagined it to play out this way.

There’s no time to gather his scrambled thoughts and formulate a plan because Joochan’s already pulling out his phone and the only thing Sungyoon can resort to is wipe his face of any expression and do what he’s best at doing: looking calm. 

“Looks like we’re the leftovers,” Joochan jokes, and yeah, he hadn’t imagined that to be Joochan’s first words to him after two years either. Joochan’s voice is even and clear, as if speaking to Sungyoon is nothing but another chore. Sungyoon’s heart sinks. “We should… we should also take a picture together then, right?”

“Yeah,” Sungyoon says, voice unintentionally rough and low. Joochan approaches cautiously, holding him at an arm’s length like one would do with a stray cat as he stretches his arm out with his phone, angling it above them so both of them are in the frame. It’s then Sungyoon notices how badly Joochan is trembling.

His hands are shaking so badly that the camera can’t even focus properly. The steady voice must have been a mask then, Sungyoon realizes. 

He’s nervous, no doubt. And a flame of hope is lit in Sungyoon’s heart. 

“Sorry-” Joochan tries to get a better grip on the phone as if it’ll somehow quell his shaking. “I’m bad at taking pictures.” Sungyoon knows that’s bullshit.

Mustering up courage he didn’t know he had, he mutters, “here,” gently sliding his hand over Joochan’s to steady his grip and-

Joochan’s hand is warm under his, heat bleeding from his hand into Sungyoon’s palm, and he’s missed this. Missed holding the Joochan’s hand, missed the feeling of simply him. 

Next to him, Joochan has gone stiff as cardboard, shaking all but gone. On instinct, Sungyoon’s head turns to ask him maybe if he’s alright, but whatever he had been about to say dies in his mouth as Joochan chooses that exact moment to turn his head and then they’re looking at each other, properly-

And Joochan is so, so close, staring at Sungyoon’s face with pupils blown, staring at his lips with, his own parted. One of them only has to lean up a little or lean down a little and-

A particularly loud screech from Donghyun startles them out of whatever… it had been they had fallen into. Both of their reactions are over the top; Sungyoon flinches back violently as if he’d been punched and Joochan starts forward and all it serves to do is have Joochan’s shoulders bump into Sungyoon’s and they’re just as close as they had been a moment ago. 

(What had he almost done-)

“...the picture?” He finally breathes out, afraid if he tries saying anything else, too much will come out.

The pink that tints Joochan's cheeks as he fondles with his phone again, this time holding it firmly, must be his imagination. Sungyoon attempts for a warm smile as he looks into the camera, but it’s hard to while feathery hair tickles his neck and warm breaths puff against his ear and the somehow pleasant smell of perfume and peach and sweat that can only be from Joochan fills his senses and he’s left feeling dizzy. 

He distracts himself by grabbing at Joochan’s arm (wow, great distraction, he thinks sarcastically), to lower it just a bit so that the two of them are in the frame more clearly. “Better,” he mumbles and Joochan offers no reply, only continuing to stare determinedly into the camera as he flashes a peace sign. Sungyoon mimics him and snap!

He doesn’t get the chance to evaluate the picture because Joochan’s snatching his hand back to his chest and stepping backward, looking every bit ready to bolt. “Thank you,” he says, and he’s looking everywhere but at Sungyoon. “I’ll be sure to text you the picture?”

Sungyoon opens his mouth: if he wants to, needs to, talk to Joochan and tell him the things he needs to get off of his chest, he needs to do it now, before the younger goes Cinderella on him and up and disappears. It’s almost hilarious that Sungyoon had thought he’d been spared of his broken-mirror streak because no sooner has the word “wait” left his mouth, Golden’s manager is bursting into the room, demanding for what had been taking them so long, drowning out his voice. 

So they’ll just… not acknowledge the elephant in the room. Sungyoon heaves a deep sigh, heart aching. What’s the point of trying, if even the world is working against him?

“Yes, thank you,” Sungyoon mumbles hollowly. Joochan nods, and he’s turning away to follow his group at the room and will this really be the last time-

Before he knows it, he’s—not pulling back Joochan by the wrist, no—grabbing Joochan’s shoulder to stop him and Joochan’s eyes are wide and surprised and-

(Hopeful?)

“My number,” Sungyoon blurts out. “To send the picture to.”

Joochan has an expression on his face that even Sungyoon can’t quite read as he quietly pulls away. “I already have your number, hyung.” 

I already have your number, hyung.

Hyung.

Hyung. 

Sungyoon stares up at the ceiling open-mouthed, eyes unseeing. The word had been bouncing around in his head all night, all day, taking on different tones and connotations every time to the point that Sungyoon can’t even remember how the other had sounded when he had said it. 

I already have your number, hyung. 

What did it mean? What underlying messages were there behind the words? Had he maybe hallucinated the entire exchange? Had he hallucinated what could have been only be hope on Joochan’s face, too?

Sungyoon groans silently, rolling over onto his stomach. He needs to stop thinking about it, or else his emotions would seep into his performances and that’s the last thing he needs to happen: to have his personal life affect his professional one. Another sigh.

“Weeping over lost love?” Like clockwork, Jangjun pops out from out of the blue, Cheshire cat smile in place. “And here I thought I was seeing progress.” 

“Well, you’re blind,” Sungyoon answers grouchily. He pinpoints Jangjun with an intimidating stare which unfortunately doesn’t affect him as nearly as much as he’d hoped it would. “You were the one behind pairing us up for pictures yesterday, weren’t you.” It’s phrased less as a statement and more as an accusation.

Jangjun doesn’t look the slightest bit shocked. “Woe is me! You’ve uncovered my sins. And while I may have had a role in making sure you would end up taking it with Joochan, I didn’t plan it—I saw a chance and grabbed it.” 

“So…” he continues when Sungyoon offers no response. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

Jangjun drums his fingers against his leg. “Sure looked like something happened—I mean, one moment I see you two looking as if you’re each other’s worst enemies, and then the next I look back and he looks like he’s a second away from jumping you.”

“He did not-”

“You weren’t much better yourself—did you know you’re really obvious?”

“Jangjun-ah, be quiet.” And for once, Jangjun listens, but not before sniggering like a pig. Sungyoon has half the mind to shove him off the bed and give him a well-deserved concussion.

It’s blissfully silent for the next few minutes, and Sungyoon finally starts relaxing, his body loosening, eyelids drooping. But this is Jangjun and Jangjun cannot go more than a minute without being loud. 

“Oh yeah, you two are trending again,” he throws out naturally, as if he’s sharing the weather.

“Jangjun-ah, I said-” Jangjun’s words replay in his head and he freezes. “We’re what-”

Jangjun tosses his phone back to him. “See for yourself. At this rate, you two will become the power couple of-”

Sungyoon drowns out whatever stupidity Jangjun is crooning at him in favor of hurriedly tapping in his passcode and getting on Twitter. One glance at the trending tab confirms his fears. 

Trending in South Korea

#wajoo

11.1k tweets 

“How did this happen again.” He doesn’t have to look far to find the spark to the catalyst, because he’s led directly to Golden’s official Twitter account, and just like last time, he’s staring down at yet another selfie of him and Joochan, except this time, it’s not them from years ago but them from yesterday. 

If the outfits and hairstyles aren’t enough of a giveaway, the caption is enough proof. “Please support Golden and GNCD’s comebacks~ Fighting!” Joochan had posted the picture and their fans had latched onto it like a mosquito to blood, going wild at the assumption that this meant the two would be collabing. Sungyoon can feel his impending headache. 

A quick scroll through the tag finds it to be in a similar state to last time, with tweets begging for a collaboration between the two. It’s surprising, really, how insistent their fanbases are on this. 

“My point still stands,” Janjun says. “Complicated relationships aside, it would be great for our group… both groups. The fans want it, it’ll boost our popularity, who are we to say no? Not to mention, there’s a surprising amount of people who are both fans of GNCD and Golden.”

“I’m saying no,” Sungyoon grits out, locking his phone and setting it down with a grimace. “It’s not ideal.” 

“The only thing that’s not ideal is your communication issues with your boy.” Sungyoon looks up at Jangjun sharply, who ignores it. “It’s true—I, along with a few other choice people, are willing to bet that if you’d actually talk, or even text, whatever…” he makes a vague gesture at Sungyoon, “this would be cleared up in a heartbeat.”

“It’s not that simple,” Sungyoon says, before he rolls onto his side, facing away from Jangjun to stare at the wall. “And a collaboration would make no sense. The companies wouldn’t even bother taking it into account anyway.”

Jangjun remains silent for a moment before he slides off of Sungyoon’s bed and makes his way to the door, pausing right before he leaves. “We’ll see about that,” and the serious tone in his voice is gone and now it’s just replaced by a challenge. 

Sungyoon shakes his head mentally and closes his eyes. 

How can he just talk to Joochan when the other hasn’t even made good of his promise to send him the picture? Did that not convey enough about how little Joochan wants to repair anything they might have had?

“...What was that?” 

His manager glances at him blankly, clearly done with repeating the same thing for the third time. “The company believes that collaborating with Golden’s vocalist will be a good opportunity. Fans have been insistent, and not only will it give GNCD exposure, but it will also be a good chance to promote the group as well.”

It’s nothing Sungyoon hasn’t heard, and he knows it’s true: it will be a good chance to promote the group. But a larger, more selfish part of himself doesn’t care, if it means that Joochan is in the picture. The last few interactions he’s had with the other has only solidified the feeling. “Is there… is there any possibility for me to refuse-?” He asks hesitantly, even as he knows the answer to it.

A cold, unfeeling look crosses the other’s face. “No.” Sungyoon sighs. It had been worth a try.

Recording will begin in two weeks time, he’s told. But first, there will be discussions between the teams and the two of them. 

Between the two of them…

Between him? And Joochan? He almost laughs. There is no way he’ll be able to face the other one-on-one and not spill his guts. “But why?” He prompts. 

The other purses his lips. “It has been suggested that the writing process be done together, to ensure fluidity.”

“But-” He pulls up short, searching and finding no reason to refuse that won’t put him into suspicion. All he can do is sag and resign himself to his fate.

Jangjun smirks at him when he walks into the dorms that day, and Sungyoon can already hear the I told you so that’s certain to fall from his lips. “Save it,” he groans, and thankfully Jangjun does, swallowing whatever it had been that he was going to say.

Hours later, his phone quietly dings as he’s toweling his hair dry. Sungyoon turns it over, expecting for it to be maybe Donghyun complaining that one of the other’s hadn’t done the dishes again or maybe Jangjun sending a meme so unfunny that Sungyoon needs to restrain himself from cracking his screen, or heck, maybe even his sister texting to check up on him. What he does not expect is to see the contact name Joochan <3 pop up.

(No way…)

He nearly falls off his bed but manages to narrowly catch himself right on time. What he doesn’t manage to do is catch his phone as it slides off and bounces to the floor. Looks like he won’t need Jangjun to send him a terrible meme to crack his screen after all. 

(No way.)

His heart is racing a mile a minute as he stares at the phone face-down on the ground, pounding in his chest like he’s just run a marathon. He swallows thickly. There’s no way… no way that Joochan had been the first to text and break their two years of silence. It’s simply not possible.

Leaning down, he gingerly pries the phone off the floor, sighing in relief as he inspects it, finding it clear of any cracks. And then he gets a good look at the screen and almost drops it again.

(No way.) 

There’s no doubt about it now, with the Joochan <3 staring back at him tauntingly. Sungyoon draws in a shuddering breath. He feels as if he’s stuck in a strange sort of dream.

He had never changed the contact name, he realizes. He should change it.

(He won’t.)

It feels like forever has passed when he finally raises a trembling finger and opens the messages, eyes widening when it opens to the chat like he hadn’t been expecting it to be actually real. The belief that this is a strange dream grows stronger as he sees the messages dating two years ago, messages that had never been replied to, and then messages from hardly three minutes ago.

(Sungyoon thinks he may be dreaming.)

Whatever it had been that had seized him (excitement, hopefulness, nervousness) dissipates as he reads the texts, like water thrown onto a blazing fire. 

Joochannie <3:  

Hello, Y-sunbaenim 

I am very excited to work together with you. Please take care of me.

We will be meeting tomorrow at your company at 8 p.m, correct? • (3 minutes ago)

He’s filled with an overwhelming feeling of wrong. 

It’s wrong, the texts are wrong, it’s all wrong, saturated with faux politeness and uncomfortable rigidness. 

Disappointment wells up inside him, clawing at his chest, at his throat. A little smile pulls up at his lips before disappearing instantly. It’s just as he should have expected. 

In the end, he settles for a simple yes before he drops his phone carelessly, shuts his eyes, and tries, for once, to not think about Hong Joochan.

(He fails, and he finds that his dreams are no better than reality, plagued with a loop of Joochan holding his hand and smiling, grip getting tighter and smile growing colder with every loop and Sungyoon wakes up in a cold sweat.) 

The subject matter of the song hits far too close to home. 

“Are there any specific themes I should aim for?” Sungyoon had asked. 

“Nothing specific, but… possibly about a broken relationship. Two people who separated under unclear circumstances for what they thought would be better for each other but to this day cannot stop thinking about the other.”

(Sungyoon hates how his mind flickers to Joochan instantly.)

He should be prepared for his appearance: after all, he’s only in this empty room because of the other. But still, his heart stops as someone knocks against the door before pushing it open, and then Joochan is standing there in all his glory, buried in a puffy jacket that’s zipped up to his chin, the only features visible his fluffy brown hair and pretty eyes.

It’s like their run-in in the waiting room all over again, as their eyes meet and time slows down, except this time, neither of them has any chance to escape. 

Sungyoon opens his mouth, to say something, anything, whether it be a greeting or something considerably worse-

(IloveyouImissyouplease-)

-except Joochan beats him to it, bowing. “Good evening, Y-sunbaenim,” he says quietly, an echo of his texts the day before and Sungyoon’s throat closes up. The disappointment he had felt just the day before returns with full force, sinking their claws into him. 

That’s it then, he thinks as they seat themselves. It’s time to shut the book to his and Joochan’s relationship, to leave the tale unfinished. He buries his face in his hands, jerking back when his hands come away wet, and he realizes—he’s crying. 

(Fuck.)

“Fuck,” he curses, faintly so that Joochan won’t overhear him. “This sucks.” He smiles humorlessly. Looks like Jangjun had been wrong after all. 

Sungyoon’s never been rejected, but he guesses that this is as close as it can get. 

And so they sit there, separated by three chairs and two years of silence, the room devoid of any noise other than the scratching of their pencils and the sound of Sungyoon’s heart breaking. Jangjun would have probably called him dramatic, he thinks, but he can’t find it in himself to care very much as devastation so great that it drives away his tears grasps him. 

Writing bittersweet lyrics had never come to him as easily as it does at this moment. 

He hates how even with the devastation sitting low in his belly and the stinging of his eyes and the fact that Joochan hasn’t looked at him once, he still has hope. It’s pathetic, but he always seems to be when it comes to the other. Sungyoon frowns, pencil stilling.

Joochan hasn’t looked at him once...  but then again, Joochan hasn’t done much of anything , let alone looking. His eyes are trained to the scrap of paper in front of him, hand moving occasionally. 

...But that’s not quite true, is it? Because… 

Sungyoon shifts in his seat. Joochan’s eyes dart to him and back so quickly that Sungyoon thinks he’s imagined it. Another slight shift confirms that, no, he had not been imagining it. Quirking an eyebrow, he leans forward, and once again, Joochan’s head twitches in his direction in just the slightest.

He blinks and remembers with sudden clarity Joochan shaking like a leaf when they’d taken the picture back then and he subtly glances at Joochan. His eyes settle on Joochan’s fingers, the pencil in his hand. It’s shaking like he’s had too much coffee. 

How had he not noticed? 

For every one of Sungyoon’s actions, whether it be him tapping his pencil against the table or leaning his head on his hand or even breathing a little too loudly, Joochan gives a reaction, flinching ever-so-slightly or his eyes flicking to him. It’s a little concerning and very much endearing but most importantly, it means that Sungyoon has an effect on him. 

Jangjun’s words float back to his mind. I, along with a few other choice people, are willing to bet that if you’d actually talk. Sungyoon inhales. Jangjun had been right: if Sungyoon wants to know for sure, wants to know if there’s anything left to salvage, wants to know if Joochan thinks about him just as much as he thinks of him, he’ll need to talk. 

Mustering up courage, he opens his mouth-

And promptly chickens out.

Okay, first, coffee, he bargains with himself. Liquid courage. He stands up. “I-”

Joochan startles. Startles badly. His head snaps up so fast that Sungyoon swears he hears an audible crack and what sounds like his leg jerks up to hit the underside of the table, a hiss of pain leaving his lips. Whatever it had been that Sungyoon was going to say dies on his lips as he registers Joochan’s reaction. 

If Joochan had been refusing to look at him straight before, now he’s refusing to even breathe in his direction, glaring at the table. There’s a faint scattering of pink dusted across the bridge of his nose and cheeks that Sungyoon tries to not think about too much.

“Gonna… gonna get some coffee,” Sungyoon says, into the tense silence, the silence only growing tenser as he receives no response. “Would… Would you like some-” He tries, immediately shot down by a violent shake of the other’s head.

Sungyoon takes a step, then five, then a dozen, until he’s out of the room and a sufficient distance away from the room, and then he turns and-

Slaps himself with both hands. 

“Get your shit together, Choi Sungyoon,” he mutters. “You’re going to go back to that room and you will talk to him-”

Someone clears their throat and Sungyoon nearly jumps out of his skin, wheeling around and instantly relaxing when he’s met with someone who must be a staff member, looking at him with a hand on her hip and judgment written all over her face. 

Right, he is in the middle of a hallway. Sungyoon hurriedly bows and mumbles his apologies, fleeing to the kitchen and emerging back out with an instant coffee clutched in his hands. He pauses as he reaches the door. He will go in, and he will talk to Joochan. Sucking in a breath, he walks in. 

Joochan doesn’t seem to notice him re-entering, and Sungyoon doesn’t bother to make his presence known. He silently walks up behind him, peering over his shoulder. He catches sight of an eyeful of words scrawled out. 

Okay, so conversation. A casual start-

“How’s it coming along-”

It may have not been the best idea because Joochan straight up screeches bloody murder. And then falls off his chair.

Well, there went the plan.

There’s a beat of silence as Joochan stares up at Sungyoon with eyes wide, shock written all over his face, Sungyoon down at him with equally wide eyes.  

“Ouch…” Joochan’s pained mumble draws him out of his stupor and he’s quick to put down his coffee and reach for Joochan, who lets him pull him up, staggering up and against Sungyoon’s chest. “I think my back’s busted.”

Sungyoon would have laughed, but he’s too busy processing that Joochan is pressed against him and he can feel the exact moment the realization of their proximity hits the other. Joochan tenses and his breath catches and then he’s scampering back like a frightened stray, a garbled noise leaving his mouth. 

“O-oh my God-” Joochan’s voice nearly vibrates with anxiety as whatever nervousness that had been contained before rushes out, voice increasing pitch. His eyes flail around wildly, settling on the papers strew about. “How—how’s it going? Great! It’s going g-great.” 

Sungyoon steps back instinctively, confusion settling in at the sudden change of his behavior.  “Are you okay-”

Joochan laughs, except it comes out sounding panicky instead of lighthearted. “Why—why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like I’m nervous because of you, especially not because of you.”

“Joochan-” 

“-because I definitely, definitely, didn’t rewrite my text six times, why—why would you even think that? I definitely didn’t spend an hour trying to put myself together-”

“JOOCHAN-AH.” His voice comes out louder than he had expected it to as he grabs Joochan’s trembling shoulder to make him stop. Joochan jolts violently, jerking back in an effort to move away, shoulder swinging back and Sungyoon sees the disaster unfolding before him in slow-motion.

Joochan’s hand hits the coffee Sungyoon had left on the table and it goes flying and-

Now there’s a puddle of brown pooling on the floor. The only sound is the sound of the coffee cup rolling away. 

Sungyoon’s voice is quiet. “Joochannie.”

Joochan shudders. “I…” His eyes remain glued to the mess he’s made. “I should go,” he stutters out and before Sungyoon can even react, he’s grabbing his coat and bag and slinging it over his shoulder and nearly tripping towards the exist and Sungyoon’s heart lurches because this is it, this is where Joochan will walk out of his life unless-

And finally, he does it. He lunges forward and grabs Joochan by the wrist, yanking him back, and he has no regrets as Joochan’s head whips towards him, the shocked, hopeful look on his face exactly as he had imagined it in his head.

“Joochan-ah,” the words are rushed, stuttered, and Sungyoon will probably beat himself up over them later. “I-Is there no chance for us anymore? No way to fix and mend what broke us apart?” 

Joochan’s pale as a ghost. “Hyung-” 

Sungyoon’s grip tightens even as Joochan makes no effort to pull away. The gates are open and the raw desperation, hope, all the emotions he had kept back, pour out in his words, etch themselves into every feature of his face. “Please, Joochan-ah. I-”

(I think about you, I miss you, I regret not chasing after you more desperately.)

The words don’t come out, but Joochan understands anyway. 

“...me too.” They’re so faint that Sungyoon wonders if he heard him correctly or not. 

“...What?”

“I said,” Joochan says, and he’s louder now, as he looks at Sungyoon, properly looks at him. “Me too.”

Sungyoon’s hold on his wrist goes slack as the words sink in. Hope blooms in him once again, petals unfurling, straining towards the sun. “D-does this mean…” 

Joochan avoids his gaze again, but it does nothing to wilt the hope singing in Sungyoon’s chest. “I… I need to think.”

Sungyoon reaches forward, hands brushing Joochan’s cheek, listening to the hitch in the other’s breath. He gently prods Joochan’s chin higher, and this time, he’s the one who’s looking properly, at the honesty shining from his eyes, the unsaid yes, the years of heartache that reflect back in his own eyes. 

“Okay,” he says quietly, very quietly, and let's go. 

Just as expected, the song is an instant hit. Fans are ecstatic, sales are rising, views are climbing. 

And the only thing on Sungyoon’s mind is his conversation with Joochan. After their exchange, they had fallen into some sort of… harmony, and for the first time in a long, long while, their conversations had been comfortable and pleasant, their exchanges filling Sungyoon with warmth. And yet…

Not a single word regarding what Joochan’s answer to Sungyoon’s question is.

Sungyoon can wait for him to make up his mind; after all, he’s already waited for two years, what’s a little bit more waiting?

Still, his patience is running thin, as conversations and texts flow between them and he doesn’t hear the words—or the refusal—he’s expecting to hear. But Sungyoon’s always been a hopeful person, and he knows that today, something will change.

Because today is their special stage, and the two of them will stand on the same stage, sing the same song, perform together. Not only will it be their first time performing the song, but it will also be their first time singing it together, and Sungyoon’s hit with the realization that he’ll be basically serenading Joochan, and Joochan right back. Apprehension curls in his stomach. 

Anyone with eyes can see that their lyrics are written for each other. 

A tap on his shoulder brings him back to reality, and it’s none other than the subject of his thoughts standing in front of him, adjusting his mic. 

And really, Sungyoon’s heart should be tired of stuttering every time he lays eyes on the other, but it shows no sign of stopping anytime soon. 

“Ready to go on stage?” Joochan asks, almost shyly, and the words ring in Sungyoon’s head. 

We’ll be on the same stage together, right?

Sungyoon pulls up short, a sudden realization dawning on him. Joochan’s shy little smile melts off his face as Sungyoon doesn’t answer, replaced by a frown of confusion.

He’s going to be performing with Joochan. 

Joochan, who he had promised to stand on the same stage with.

The same promise that he had broken—no. 

Thought he had broken.

“Hyung? You good?” Sungyoon swallows, tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth. 

“Joochan-ah, do you remember…” Joochan tilts his head questioningly. “The promise we made? To each other?” 

“Promise?” His frown deepens with confusion. “Nothing I can remember-” And then there’s realization dawning on him too, Sungyoon can see it in his eyes as they grow big and round. Joochan makes a little sound, his gaze snapping up to lock with Sungyoon’s. “We-”

Sungyoon concludes that the universe is really out to get him because whatever it had been that Joochan was going to say is drowned out as they’re being jostled and ushered towards the stage and there’s no time to dwell on it as they’re swept up in the sudden frenzy. Staff members rush between them to make sure everything’s in working order, the both of them swarmed by the makeup noonas checking up on them one last time. 

He mourns that loss of what could have been quite possibly the words he had been wanting to hear, but then Joochan’s bumping into him as they make their way to the stage, and his hand’s slipping into Sungyoon’s and squeezing hard as if it’s the most natural thing to do, as if they’ve never stopped, and Sungyoon thinks it feels like a promise.

They’re standing on the stage and Sungyoon has never gotten, will never get, used to the rush, the elation as the crown roars and his eyes shift and he meets Joochan’s eyes and that rush turns into what can be simply-

Euphoria.

Because Joochan has always been the most beautiful when he performs and witnessing it first hand, Joochan is-

Breathtaking. 

It’s as if he’s bathed in a glow, streams of light wrapping around him, lighting up his eyes, his smile, his voice, and their voices are melding together as if they were meant to and Sungyoon’s going back in time, back to him and Joochan cramped in the tiny vocal rooms, knees touching, back to him and Joochan in their much-larger practice room but still not bothering to move away from each, back to Joochan singing him to sleep. And then he’s back, and it’s just him and Joochan on the stage and Sungyoon’s vision is getting blurry but he somehow holds it back and Joochan is-

Joochan is crying, tears streaming down his cheeks, glinting like diamonds in the light even as he releases another flawless high note. The crowd must be crying too, and there’s nothing more Sungyoon wants to do at that moment than reach forward and wipe the tears off of Joochan’s cheeks. 

They chorus words of gratitude at the end, Joochan’s hand reaching for his as they bow, squeezing like it’s his lifeline. Joochan’s eyes are rimmed red from crying and his cheeks are puffy and there’s glitter scattered all over his face from rubbing his eyes and Sungyoon doesn’t think he’s laid eyes on someone more beautiful. 

“Our promise, hyung.” Joochan tells him, breathlessly as they walk off of the stage, and Sungyoon can only nod fervently, gripping his hand tighter. 

“Hey,” Joochan says quietly after they’ve changed out of their outfits and are standing at the exit, staring up at the slowly-setting sun. Somehow, their hands have made it back to each other, their fingers woven between each other’s, palms pressed tight together. He shoots Sungyoon a smile. “Care for a walk?”

Sungyoon recognizes the place immediately.

It’s just an overhead bridge that had been close to their old company: they had frequented it regularly, whether it be to simply pass it over, or to get some fresh air in the middle of the night, elbows on the railing as they watched the cars rush by, or, as Sungyoon remembers memorably, for Joochan to ask him out. A pang of nostalgia hits him as the memory ripples in his head. 

He remembers it like yesterday—Joochan turning to him suddenly and shouting that he liked Sungyoon and if he’d go out with him. It had been painfully cheesy, with Joochan blushing and the sun setting behind them and the wind blowing through their hair, and Sungyoon hadn’t been able to help but feel a tug of fondness. 

The sun had been setting behind them then, just like as it is right now. 

“Isn’t this where you confessed?” Sungyoon asks, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. It has it’s intended effect: Joochan flusters, red tinting the tips of his ears. 

“That was embarrassing,” Joochan mumbles, “I can’t believe I did that.” And there it is again, the same fondness that had tugged Sungyoon back then.

“It worked,” Sungyoon grins as more and more memories come back to him. “I don’t know how it did, but it did.”

There’s no response from Joochan as they approach the railing, letting their elbows lean on it as they watch the cars rush by, eager to head home before the sun finishes setting. Their intertwined hands rest between them.

Finally, Joochan speaks up. 

“...do you think this will work too?” Sungyoon stills. “I-I mean, back then, so much happened and then we grew apart because we couldn’t bear to see each other’s faces. How are we to know that won’t happen again? I… I don’t think I could handle it if that happened again.” Joochan turns to him, his gaze pleading. “If I tell you what we both want to hear, how am I to know if we’ll both regret it? If this is the wrong choice to make?”

The sounds around them are strangely muted now: the blowing of the wind, the scattering of the leaves, the cars rushing past under them, it’s all background noise. “We don’t,” Sungyoon says softly. “We’ll never know. But… All I know is that…”

He turns to face Joochan, holding their hands up between them, and the gaze he fixes Joochan with, it’s as if the other had hung the moon and the stars. “There wasn’t a single day I didn’t think about you, think about how I would do anything, anything, to have you by my side again, think about what I could have done to make things better.” He brings their joined hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to Joochan’s knuckles. 

And Joochan may be the most beautiful while singing, but this comes in as a close second, with the setting sun painting him in shades of orange and yellow, bringing out the brightness of his eyes, the shine of his hair, highlighting the flush spreading across his cheeks, his nose. Sungyoon steps forward.

“I think it’s my turn to confess,” he whispers. A breathless noise leaves Joochan’s throat. Sungyoon presses their hands to his chest. “Joochan-ah-”

“I love-”

-there’s no way for him to finish his sentence because Joochan is launching himself at Sungyoon and Sungyoon’s gasping as Joochan crashes into him, stumbling back as he scrambles to support the other’s weight-

-and then they’re kissing against the backdrop of the sun and Joochan’s hands are warm and solid as they cradle his face and his heart’s fluttering against his ribcage like a trapped butterfly trying to escape and God, he’s so in love-

Joochan’s crying again, just like he had been on stage, staining Sungyoon’s own cheeks wet and salty. But they’re happy tears, his sobs turning into laughter and then Sungyoon’s laughing too, and they’re giggling into each other’s lips as they cling to one another, and then Joochan’s whispering, “I love you” and Sungyoon answers by swallowing his words up in another kiss. 

“Hey, Sungyoon-hyung,” Joochan says, a little later, as they stand on the overhead bridge, the sides of their bodies pressed flush, Sungyoon’s head leaning on Joochan’s. The sun has set long ago and the stars are coming out, twinkling in the night, and yet, neither of them has any intention of leaving.

It’s impossible to keep the smile out of his voice. “Yes?”

“Promise we’ll always return to each other, no matter how far we get?”

The tender kiss Sungyoon presses against Joochan’s forehead is enough of an answer.