Archive of Our Own ^beta

Younghoon was warned not to fuck with his fellow idols, figuratively and literally.

They hear stories, whispers in waiting rooms, cautionary tales. They are told to take care, pursue their interests in the most discreet way possible. There's a possibility they'll never get caught, doing that, flying under the radar, being quick and knowing where to look and who to talk to. 

Thing is, Younghoon has never been one for discretion. He shows his interest, his love, in blatant, undeniable ways. He's sticky and heavy on flattery and touchy and a Leo. Not too sappy, he doesn't think, but well. Obvious. Chanhee advises him to just not do it, because the chances he would get caught are high.

Besides, gay dating is another realm entirely, even riskier. He'd have to be extra attuned to the ripples on the water, perking at rumours like a shark at the smell of blood. It can be done, has been done since the beginning of time, but Younghoon has also never been one for exerting himself if he has easier answers. If he feels too needy, needs to unwind on some primal way, he has people he can go to. Friends, acquaintances back home, trusted and familiar and safe. 

So he intends on following Chanhee's advice. He does.

But then Idol Radio happens.

And Youngkyun stands out. 

Not only because he's handsome as hell, long hair and sharp cheekbones and eyes brown and warm, but because he looks like he would rather be swallowing rocks than be here. And Younghoon might be the rookie off of their (mostly) fixed cast, and it's not up to him to make folks comfortable when it's not his show, but he's the oldest and he doesn't like seeing pretty boys feel uncomfortable. So he tries. 

During one of their breaks, while Bin chats to one of the staff and Ilhoon sorts out his cue cards, Younghoon offers him the snacks he bought from a vending machine nearby. "Want some?"

Youngkyun, who has been staring into the distance, blinks out of his stupor. "Huh?"

"It's potato chips," Younghoon announces, uselessly. He's not much of a people person himself, so this is going to be tough and he already regrets trying. "I think it's meat flavoured? If you want some, you can have it."

"Thank you," Youngkyun almost whispers, less uncomfortable but still very sheepish, reaching inside the bag. His hands brush ever so slightly against Younghoon's own as he does so, and he has lean fingers and his skin runs warm despite the AC running rampant in the studio. Younghoon is close enough to see the blush rising up to Youngkyun's cheeks and the tip of his ears redden and oh, this is information. 

Younghoon feels lightheaded. He's treading uncharted territory and he longs for one of his members, a familiar face to tell him what to do next. Not even his manager is paying attention to him, too busy typing something on his phone.

"This is actually good," Youngkyun says, mostly to himself. 

Younghoon tuts. "Right? Maybe we're just really hungry, though."

"Maybe," Youngkyun chuckles. The sound is nice, low and bright at the same time, makes him seem younger. And God, the things his smile does to his face.

Still acutely aware of the eyes on him, Younghoon decides to be bolder. Try his hand at this the way he tries his hand at everything. "We should exchange numbers after this. You know, so I can treat you and Binnie for real food."

Yeah, no mistake, Youngkyun sure is blushing now and smiling wider, looking down at his lap. "That'd be nice."

"Someone said food?" Bin quips, sits on the empty chair between Younghoon and Ilhoon, who's now focused on their interaction instead of the cue cards. 

"Younghoonie hyung wants to treat us to lunch," Youngkyun says, giving him a conspiratorial side-glance.

Younghoon should be worried about the way his manager squints at him, or the way Ilhoon huffs with laughter, but he's not. His malfunctioning braincells are too busy focused on the way Youngkyun said his name, and whether or not he's imagined the intent behind it. Ilhoon did make the three of them get the formalities out of the way when they first met, thoroughly entertained by their awkwardness, but… 

While Bin cheers over the prospect of free lunch, Younghoon can only think about how screwed he is, and that he'll never make fun of Haknyeon's Inkigayo sandwiches ever again.

"Man," Jaehyun confirms his worst fears a few hours later, lying on Juyeon's empty bed. "You're fucked."

"I know," Younghoon half-groans, half-whines on his pillow. He wasn't going to tell anyone anything for now, was going to keep whatever happened under wraps until he had something of substance to panic about. He's not a teenager, he won't let blushes and smiles and looks sway his resolve.

Except he somehow found himself searching hwiyoung fancams on an incognito tab and Jaehyun caught him red handed when he barged into Younghoon's room without knocking, asking if he wanted chocolate milk.

"This is really unlike you," Jaehyun points out, not unkindly. "You don't… freak out over dudes."

Younghoon sighs, the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I know. What do I do?"

"Are you sure you wanna be asking me for advice?" Jaehyun asks. And yeah, he's not a prime example, his too intense relationships always ending up in disaster. However.

"I didn't wanna ask anyone for advice, you were the one who decided to be nosy and walk into my room without knocking, so you'll help me with this," Younghoon replies, matter-of-factly.

Jaehyun snorts. "Alright, I'll try. What are you struggling with, exactly?"

Younghoon takes a sip of his chocolate milk, for emotional comfort. "Whenever I want someone, I just walk up to them and go hey, do you wanna make out? and the rest is history."

"And now you can't do that," Jaehyun supplies.

Younghoon nods. "I'm meeting him in a professional setting and I can't just walk into the studio thinking of shoving my tongue down his throat."

Jaehyun makes a face. "Did you have to say it like that?"

"Yes, I did. Don't be a prude," Younghoon says, which he knows is rich coming from him, someone who's panicking over a guy he barely even touched.

"I'm not-" Jaehyun interrupts himself, seems to have had an epiphany. A grin takes over his face, the one that makes his eyes disappear into crescents. "You know, I don't think there's even a need for you to be subtle."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Jaehyun walks up to Younghoon and pats his head gently. He leans into the touch because, again, emotional comfort.  "People are easy to assume a man and a woman are dating whenever they interact, you know, that’s why we need to be careful with that. A simple coincidence can turn into Lovestagram conspiracy theories if fans are determined enough. But two men?"

Ah. Younghoon gets it, now.  “So you’re telling me I should french kiss him in front of everyone and pray for people to dismiss it as just boys being dudes or something?”

“I’m telling you not to be so paranoid,” Jaehyun clarifies. He’s running his fingers through Younghoon’s hair now and he’s surprisingly good at this, gentle and soothing. “You shouldn’t flirt much while on the clock, just in case, but you have his number, right?”

Yes. Yes, he does. Saved as SF9 Hwiyoung, because he’s a chicken. “Right.”

“So text him,” Jaehyun nudges his shoulder. “See what happens.”

“I’m going to,” Younghoon says, staring at the thumbnail of the fancam he was just watching, Youngkyun wearing a low-cut jacket and giving the camera a smouldering stare, fitting of their concept. A part of Younghoon’s brain, the one that’s not making him sweat under his pajamas, wonders if he’ll ever be able to pull off something like this.

He closes the lid of his laptop after Jaehyun leaves the room, reaches for his phone on the bedside table. Takes a deep breath.

This is happening.

Things don't go according to plan. 

Younghoon didn't really have a plan, to be honest. He wasn't intending to make this a one night stand situation, not with someone he would be working with for God knows how long. He was fishing for more of a friends with benefits situation, casual yet comfortable enough to not make things awkward at the radio. Ilhoon is very perceptive, and he's developed a habit of teasing the hell out of them for entertainment reasons. 

However, they've been texting everyday for a month now, and yet in person they never go past friendly shoulder taps. Which is slow, for Younghoon's usual pace.

And the worst part is… he doesn't hate it. He's enjoying getting to know Youngkyun beyond his cool presence on stage, finding the snark hiding behind the shy man who ate his chips and blushed at his touch. It's been nice, trying his hand at subtlety, at the push and pull of flirting Younghoon always deemed a waste of time. They find it funny that they both have members called Chanhee who they pester to the hell and back, and that they're both lacking in the idol friends department. They don't have time to overthink where they'll go from here, because their schedules are very hectic this time of the year.

It's nice. And if Sangyeon notices him smiling down at his phone more often than usual, he doesn't say a word.

Their promised lunch happens in the middle of that, on a day they didn’t have to go back to the radio. Bin chooses the place, a family restaurant a few blocks from the MBC building, and he swears by their food and the overall atmosphere of the place. It’s nothing sophisticated, plastic chairs and a DIY vase with plastic flowers as their table decoration, and the television is playing a drama Younghoon can’t remember the name. There’s not a lot of movement so they don’t get recognized, except for one of the waitresses who seems to know Bin as one of their regulars. 

Youngkyun is the last to arrive, mask on his chin, hair tied up in a loose bun, a backpack hanging from one shoulder, the tip of his nose red from the cold. He gives them an apologetic little smile and Younghoon’s heart somersaults in his chest. “Sorry for being late, I somehow got stuck with the slowest bus driver in Korea.”

“No worries, you’re not that late,” Bin reassures him with one of his charming grins, the one that makes his eyes disappear. “So, what are we craving?”

Youngkyun sits between him and Younghoon, takes off his thick padding jacket to reveal a dark blue turtleneck underneath. After discussing their options, they settle for tteokbokki, something warm and spicy to fight the chill creeping in the air, even with the heating system inside the restaurant. They voice their grievances first — Bin missed his cousin’s wedding because he had M/V filming the same day and she’s really good at throwing parties, Younghoon just came from a morning schedule and he’s been getting little to no sleep lately, Youngkyun is in the process of moving from one dorm to another and the process is being more troublesome than he thought.

“My shoulders are so stiff, it’s killing me,” he complains, speaking through a pout.

And Lord, if that doesn’t awaken some long-dormant part of Younghoon’s brain. “Want a massage?”

Bin almost spits out his tea. Youngkyun’s eyes widen. “Is that a real offer?”

“Yup,” Younghoon says, very serious. Ok, he’s smiling, because he can’t help it, loves the shocked responses he’s elicited, but his offer is very serious. 

Youngkyun is still hesitant. “In front of everyone?” 

Bin, who apparently loves chaos, confusion and madness, snorts. “There’s barely people here. No one will care."

Younghoon scans the room for any familiar faces, anything out of order or suspicious, and finds nothing. There’s a family of six talking all over each other near the window, a couple speaking in tender whispers near the kitchen. And the three of them, their table tucked in a far left corner, going unnoticed. He shrugs. “Up to you.”

“Free food and a massage,” Bin mumbles to himself in disbelief, eats a spoonful of rice. He seems to be having fun, and Younghoon thanks whichever godly entity is responsible for his luck. He’s flirting with a coworker in front of another coworker he just started to befriend and it’s going swimmingly so far. 

Youngkyun makes a decision, places his chair in a way that Younghoon can reach out and touch his shoulders. He applies light pressure at first, tentative, experienced with helping Changmin whenever he stretches himself too thin, and sees that Youngkyun’s tense. And that his cologne smells incredible, damn. It’s minty, almost, refreshing, not too sweet, not too strong. Maybe that’s just his natural scent. His shoulders are really broad, too.

Younghoon forces himself to focus, his thumbs sitting on the tops of Youngkyun’s shoulders, feeling for the smooth contour of his muscles, right above his shoulder blades, and rolls them in an upwards motion. “Holy shit,” he breathes out, throwing his neck back slightly. It’s a sight to behold, enough that Younghoon’s throat feels dry. 

“Please don’t get too excited,” Bin jokes, smirking, munching on his spinach salad. “There’s children in here.”

“Stop being weir—” Youngkyun starts, but Younghoon squeezes harder, hands moving closer to his neck, and he seems to lose his train of thought. “Fuck, I love my job.”

Younghoon laughs out loud, and that gets the attention of the lady manning the cash register. She seems more concentrated on his face, as if trying to recognize him, and he knows this means he should stop this, go back to the steamed eggplants he had ordered to go with his meal. Massages work better on naked skin, anyways. “Okay, that’s all I can do for you.”

Youngkyun whines, tilts his head back to give Younghoon puppy eyes. “That was so short.”

“Don’t you dare complain,” Bin points at him with his chopsticks. “At least you got a massage.”

“You want one?” Younghoon asks, because what the hell, why not.

Bin chuckles. “Nah, man, I’m good. Just being annoying.”

“I take my words back,” Youngkyun glares at them. “I hate my job.”

Younghoon grins so wide his cheeks hurt and he almost startles when he notices how happy he’s feeling. This is so much better than their texting, so much better than shared giggles at Ilhoon’s jokes and odd segments and scrambling for cue cards while giving terrible life advice, it’s less monitored, more real. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been unbearably attracted to someone, and at the same time laughed so hard in their presence. 

Lunch proceeds without a hitch, tasty food, lively chit-chat and criticism disguised as commentary about a Saturday Night Live comedy skit. They say their goodbyes around three, because Bin has a schedule later at night and their managers have been texting them, wondering when they’ll go back to their respective dorms. Younghoon’s no longer sleepy when he gets home, his skin buzzing with restless energy he doesn’t get so often. He takes a warm shower, watches Kevin and Haknyeon argue about the ideal consistency of white sauce on pasta, watches Sunwoo and Eric get their asses handed to them playing a Xbox game. Nothing manages to make him less jumpy.

He grabs his phone and his fingers work faster than his brain, opening a conversation that was already on the top of his list anyways. Are you home yet? Sends. 

The answer doesn’t come right away, so he tries to distract himself. Checks Instagram, likes thirst traps from his past flings, his brother’s videos from London, his mother’s blurry selfies, and he’s entertained by his timeline when his phone vibrates, the KakaoTalk notification shining bright yellow on his screen. SF9 Hwiyoung. He should change that.

i am now!!!

still mad at hyung tho 💔

Younghoon bites down a chuckle, because Juyeon is right next to him, watching a flashy Netflix TV show. 

Why mad at meeeeee?? Was lunch not enough?

i can pay for my own lunch 💔

but i can’t pay for a masseur 💔

you left me and the crick on my neck v disappointed 💔

Dramatic lmao

You didn’t even want it

that was before i found out you had MAGIC HANDS

You have no idea, Younghoon thinks. He has better sense than to type it out, though, because it would be going from one to one hundred too quickly. He does want to nudge their relationship to a less platonic direction, though, as much as he’s liking where they’re at now.

I have a business proposal to sort that out

...what are the terms and conditions

Terms: I could finish that massage when you’re free

Conditions: Dinner, just the two of us

oh

is there something between the lines on your proposal

Thankfully, Juyeon is still focused on his phone screen. Younghoon takes a deep breath — he feels like a surgeon about to slice a heart open or whatever surgeons do that’s risky, life-changing and could fuck up the entire operation.

Only if you want it to be

We could call Bin too but I don’t wanna give him a massage

Too buff

and i’m scrawny as hell, is that what you mean?

i don't mind just the two of us!!

but how the hell are we gonna do this

we have no privacy lmao

Younghoon curses having to share a house with enough men to fill up a soccer team. There is another option, though, one he didn't want to disclose so soon, but…

My house is gonna be empty this weekend bc my parents r gonna visit my brother abroad

So that's an option

If you're like...comfortable w that

nah i’m cool

we could do it... sunday? after the radio? 

it’ll be kinda tight before that but i can sneak out!

Lmao noooo

Sunday is fine

alright then

it’s a date

Younghoon chokes on his saliva. He feels his adrenaline subside, the built up exhaustion from the past week catching up to him, seeping through his bones. He falls asleep with a smile on his face and a thought swirling inside his head.

I have a date. 

And of course, his members are… skeptical. 

After he comes home from filming and tells them he’ll go on a date and be back tomorrow morning at the latest, they all react with varying levels of confusion.

"This smells fishy," Chanhee says, scrunching his nose.

Younghoon doesn't spare him a glance as he checks himself out in the mirror. With his white button down and dark pants, he wonders if he's overdressed. His hair looks beautiful, though, silky and shiny with the care package a fan gifted him. He decides to play dumb. "Kevin's making soup."

"You know I'm not talking about the fucking soup," Chanhee squints at him, a pink-haired ball of suspicion. "You're going on a date."

"Yes," Younghoon says, eyes still on the mirror. Oh, God, what if he's underdressed?

"And you're going on a date with a friend," Chanhee presses. It's touching, really, him worrying so much. "Who?"

But Younghoon won't tell anyone anything until there's something to tell. "You don't know him."

Chanhee snorts. "Oh, that's convenient."

"You know," Younghoon lets amusement seep into his tone, knowing it'll make Chanhee even more annoyed but unable to help himself. "Not even Sangyeon hyung is grilling me so much."

"He doesn't know what you're capable of, that's why," Chanhee retorts, hands on his waist. "If he had been there in Itaewon…"

"Chanhee, you need to let Itaewon go," Younghoon says, with his spiritual guru voice. This argument is serving as a good distraction from the fact he's nervous as fuck, so he won't put an end to it just yet. "Heal your wounds."

"Fuck off," Chanhee sighs the sigh of the perpetually tired. "If you were seriously seeing someone, you'd tell me?"

Younghoon nods with all the earnestness he can muster. "Of course. I just… have no idea what to expect from today. Don't wanna jinx it."

Chanhee seems satisfied by that, intrigued yet not enough to pry further. "Alright, give me your shirt."

Younghoon frowns. "What's wrong with my shirt?"

"Nothing," Chanhee assures him. "It's a bit rumpled, though, so I'll iron it."

"Oh, thanks," Younghoon says, already unbuttoning his shirt. He can't afford to look shabby now, in such a crucial moment. He may be making this date a bigger deal than what it actually is, but he has a feeling the events of the evening will set the course of the next few months. He is going out with his coworker, after all. Not as simple as a Grindr date.

He doesn’t notice he’s biting his nails until Jaehyun stands next to him and slaps his hands away from his mouth. "Ow."

"You'll be kissing someone with that mouth," Jaehyun mutters, careful to see if anyone overheard, mirth dancing in his eyes. "It's him, isn't it?"

"Yes," Younghoon confirms, runs his fingers through his hair. His shampoo has a pleasant citrus fruit smell, and he once again thanks the heavens above for his fanbase being mostly women. He can't count on his members' taste for cosmetics. "I wouldn't assume there's gonna be any kissing, though."

Jaehyun makes a face. "Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?"

"Everything's fine," Younghoon says, and a ridiculous, giddy smile rises to his face. "But I'm keeping my expectations low, because you know how I get with them. We're not rushing, and this might be a good thing or like, the calm before the storm."

"Well, you'll be finding that out today," Jaehyun offers, which really isn't as much consolation as he thinks it might be. "Good luck."

Then he saunters off to the kitchen, much likely to pester Kevin. Younghoon makes the mistake of unlocking his phone - playing mobile cooking games is such a helpful distraction, he vouches for it - and sees Youngkyun’s face with an outdated kitten filter, back when his hair was short. 

just checked the address on maps...

i’m afraid i’m not dressed fancy enough?

Younghoon chuckles, glad he’s not the only one nervous about the appropriate attire. Just wear whatever, he types out, and then adds, you don’t need much to look good. Because he can, and it’s the truth, and he wants Youngkyun to get rid of any self-consciousness tonight. The reply comes right away.

STOP

look who’s talking 

Heat pools up in the pit of Younghoon’s stomach — an odd reaction, more intense than the casual satisfaction he feels at understated praise. He wonders, faintly, if he’s going to survive this dinner.

At first, he assumes he will.

He arrives an hour before their scheduled time, orders Chinese food since his cooking skills are far from impressive, sets the table in the nicest way he can. His house is spacious, with a pool in the backyard, a wide living room with the largest TV they could buy when they moved here, so his kitchen table feels lackluster compared to the rest of the new, shiny, tall furniture. 

Maybe it’s because it’s not used often, shared meals not a tradition in his household. He only grew used to it, the chattering and the arguing and the domesticity, after moving to the dorms, because it had been him eating cold noodles inside his room through most of his life. Sometimes, his brother would call him downstairs and they’d munch on their food in silence while watching cartoons. 

He hesitated before inviting Youngkyun over not for the reasons one might think, that it’s too soon, too personal. They’ve known each other for a few months now, enough to find similarities between their personalities, points where they match, they click. Silly as it may sound, Younghoon trusts him — not more than he trusts his members and friends, but more than he would trust a random idol acquaintance. 

No, his house isn’t too personal. It’s too impersonal. Vast, beautiful and cold. 

After arriving, though, he doesn’t feel as swallowed by it as he usually does. He checks the fridge, finds frozen food, a peach juice box and two bottles of red wine. Heads upstairs to his room, sees there’s still a couple of clothes he’s left here from the last time he came over. He stares at his reflection again — he’s tall, handsome, moderately succesful, a decent person, his outfit is nice, his skin is smooth as butter thanks to one of the lotions Haknyeon swears by. He can do this. 

Then the doorbell rings and his throat closes in itself and hey, maybe he can’t do this. At all. Maybe he should pretend he’s not home and leave through the back door and leave the idol industry and become a full-time actor instead…

He slaps himself across the face, trying to come to his senses. He is Kim Younghoon. 

This is just a boy. 

When he opens the door, Youngkyun is standing there, his eyebrows almost up to his hairline, a bottle of soju in his hands. His long brown hair is stylishly tousled, the same way it was when they met earlier today, but now he’s wearing a black denim jacket, a grey shirt underneath and jeans. Pretty as always. “Oh, wow,” he says, sounding a little winded. “Hi.”

Younghoon giggles, makes way for him to enter, pretends his heart didn’t jump at the sight of him. “What’s that reaction?”

“Your place is huge,” Youngkyun explains, craning his neck to take everything in. “And you look alright, I guess.”

“Well, thanks,” Younghoon grins, pleased with the thinly veiled appreciation behind his tone. “You look pretty.”

Youngkyun sputters, flustered. “How do you just say stuff like that?”

“We’re idols,” Younghoon shrugs, and seizes the chance to throw another clear sign of his interest, just in case. “You should be used to people telling you how pretty you are. It’s kind of our thing at the radio, too.”

“That’s different,” Youngkyun mumbles, his cheeks reddening. “Anyways, what are we eating?”

Younghoon brings him to the kitchen. The main dish is stir-fried tofu with rice, but he’s bought servings of honey chilli potato, spring rolls and dimsum. He might’ve ordered too much for two people, he belatedly notices, but Youngkyun’s eyes sparkle like Christmas arrived early. “You’re insane,” he shakes his head, awe seeping through his voice. He puts his soju bottle on the counter and sits on one of the chairs. “You made all of this?”

Younghoon sits next to him, close enough to reach out to yet not touching in any meaningful way just yet. The fact they’re alone weaves its web inside his brain, making him come up with the most insane ideas. He tries to keep those impulses at bay for now. “Hell no. I ordered it, but I only know how to order for twelve.”

“Lucky I’m hungry,” Youngkyun eats a spoonful of tofu and rice and hums happily.

Younghoon’s chest squeezes in response. Fuck feelings. “How’s moving treating you?” 

“Terribly,” Youngkyun answers, although his words don’t translate to his face. He seems glad to be here. “Hence, the alcohol.”

“I have wine, by the way,” Younghoon tells him before taking a bite of a spring roll. It’s crisp, flavorful, goes well with the sauce. He congratulates himself for the smart restaurant choice.

“You seem like the wine type,” Youngkyun quips, and suddenly looks thoughtful, fiddling with the dimsum he’s brought to his plate. “Can I ask you a question, hyung?”

“Wait,” Younghoon heads to the fridge, pours himself some wine and puts the bottle on the table. He takes a sip, grimaces at the taste then lets it sit rich and dense on his tongue. One of the stronger ones, he takes note. “Now you can.”

“Ha, so funny,” Youngkyun scoffs, and by his expression it doesn’t seem like he’ll make a casual comment about the weather. “I was wondering… Why me?”

Younghoon blinks. “Huh?”

“You don’t have a lot of idol friends, you said,” Youngkyun starts, pours himself wine and drinks it as well. "And you don’t go out of your way to talk to the other hyungs as much, so why me? And please be honest.”

Younghoon complies with the request, although hesitant. “In the beginning, I just thought you were good-looking.”

“Is that so,” Youngkyun teases, the corner of his lips twitching upwards, which is a good sign.

“It’s the truth,” Younghoon says, a tad defensive. “I find a lot of people good-looking, and that doesn’t mean I’ll get close with them, but with you it just happened, I guess. I like when you make fun of me and when we make fun of other people and your smile and your hair. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, but you asked me to be honest. So.”

Youngkyun beams at him, the Sun in all its glory, and brings their chairs closer, their thighs touching. “You must be dense as hell.”

It’s Younghoon’s turn to stammer and blush. “Wha— I’m not? What does that even mean?”

Youngkyun smiles, something small and tender, looks at him from under his lashes. He holds Younghoon’s chin, his touch featherlight, and kisses him. It’s a peck, ends as fast as it started, but his taste lingers. “Dense as hell.”

Younghoon is bewildered — his mind, body and soul shortcircuiting at once. He won't fake modesty and pretend he hasn't imagined this outcome from the start, he's aware he's handsome and the charged stares they've shared were not a figment of his imagination. However, he had pictured himself making the first move, the one who's bolder, more experienced. 

He licks his lips, he wants more and he realizes can demand more, so he pulls Youngkyun even closer, a hand on the back of his neck. It's a real kiss this time, with tongue, slow and building in heat. Younghoon pulls at his hair slightly, without noticing, and he honest to god mewls. When they part for the second time, they're breathless, their lips red and bitten. 

"Jesus," Youngkyun hides his head on Younghoon's shoulders, smiling against his collarbones. "What about dinner?"

Younghoon chuckles, doesn't even have to think twice about that. "Fuck dinner."

They do finish the wine, though. 

Both bottles, while talking and snuggling and complaining and staring at eachother, which fits Younghoon's definition of a successful date. It's around midnight when they decide they should finish drinking what Youngkyun bought playing Never Have I Ever.

They run upstairs, giggling and stumbling, the two happiest drunk men in existence, their food safely tucked inside the fridge for later. Right now, they can't get their hands off each other, all the tension and mutual attraction and unexplainable giddiness bubbling to the surface. Youngkyun is an amazing kisser, reactive, his lips molding to whatever Younghoon needs of him. 

They're grinning when they reach his room, and Youngkyun feels the need to comment on that. "I like your smile too."

Younghoon laughs, a sweet, sweet sensation flowing in him that doesn't have much to do with the wine. "Out of nowhere?"

"It does this thing with your face," Youngkyun slurs out, points a finger to Younghoon's chest. "You're fucking beautiful. But you already know that."

"It's always nice to hear it," Younghoon answers, so soft. Too soft, even for his own ears. "Wait, where's the soju?"

Youngkyun raises one of his hands, holding the bottle with a loose grip. The shot glasses are on Younghoon's nightstand so he fills them up and sits on his bed, his legs crossed. "Ok, you start."

Youngkyun sits in front of him, scrunches his nose in thought. "Um, shit, this is hard."

"Oh, he's experienced," Younghoon taunts.

Youngkyun rolls his eyes. "As if. I've never... had sex with another idol before."

Younghoon blinks at him, unmoving.

Youngkyun scoffs in disbelief. "No fucking way. You're lying."

"Why would I lie?" Younghoon asks, putting one hand on his waist. 

"I don't believe you," Youngkyun squints at him in a way that resembles Chanhee. Oh, to be an earth sign. "Men and women?"

"I don't… do women," Younghoon grimaces, thinking of his teenagehood, looking at girls and trying to will himself to feel something and coming up empty-handed.

Youngkyun's jaw drops. "Wow. You're… full of surprises."

"Thanks," Younghoon winks at him. "Alright, my turn. I've never smoked weed before."

Youngkyun downs his shot right away. "Unbelievable," he mutters. "I've never had sex with someone else watching."

Younghoon sighs and takes a shot. It tastes hot and sticky, a stark contrast to the wine. "You wanna try that?"

"Don't think so, I'm too territorial," Youngkyun admits, without an ounce of shame. "I like to focus on one person, and I want that focus back on me." 

Younghoon chuckles at that, war flashbacks popping on his mind. "I said the same thing! But it's fun."

"Show off," Youngkyun jokes. He's not wrong, though.

They play for a while, trying to pry secrets off each other, finding out information ranging between hilarious and disturbing. However, there comes a point where they feel too woozy to keep drinking or do anything else, really. They change into more comfortable outfits - Youngkyun looking boyish and cozy in Younghoon's old pajamas - and go back to bed. "You told someone you were gonna sleep over?"

"Yeah," Youngkyun faces him, a peaceful smile blooming on his face. He's hammered but happy, so much more at ease than usual, temporarily relieved of the burdens of being constantly watched. "My managers, my Chanhee."

The possessive pronoun doesn't seem to have any implications behind it, only used because Younghoon also has a Chanhee, yet he feels an irrational spark of jealousy flare up inside him. He blames it on the alcohol, because what the fuck, really. “I’m drunk,” he announces.

Youngkyun snorts, close enough to count his eyelashes. “I’ve noticed. Me too.”

“Sorry for not giving you that massage,” Younghoon says, remembering one of the main excuses for this date to happen. 

“It’s alright,” Youngkyun mumbles, his cheek squished against the pillow. He closes his eyes, only a faint twitch of his lips as an indicative he hasn’t fallen asleep yet. “There’s always next time.”

Before, this would’ve been the time Younghoon was blunt. He’d attempt at distance, clarify there won’t be a next time, and if it happens it’ll be focused on stress relief sex rather than going on candle-lit dinners and cuddling and playing silly drinking games. He wouldn’t think of words like trust, his heartbeats wouldn’t speed up. 

And he wouldn’t have laughed so much. 

So now, he says nothing. Allows himself to close his eyes, too.

They end up having a heartfelt conversation over a phone call about labels. 

Their dynamic changed, whether they admitted it or not, after they kissed for the first time. A dam broke inside them — they were teetering the line between friendly banter and flirtation, one day they decided to plant both their feet on the romantic side of the line and they have to figure out what’s to be of them, now. 

Youngkyun approaches the subject first, with an impressive brand of level-headed honesty, a posture of someone who’s been in this place a couple times before. He admits he has, talks about his past experiences where he’s been led on, where he’s set the expectations too high for himself and believed sweet words blindly instead of demanding the truth. Younghoon finds it hard to imagine since Youngkyun inspires sincerity in him in a way no one else quite does, but he guesses his feelings aren’t universal. 

They do agree on the fact they’re both too busy, at a point in their careers too critical to risk navigating the intricacies of a serious commitment. They settle on going with the flow, meeting whenever they can, no demands or exclusivity. And if one does anything to hurt the other, they’ll sit down and talk about it like adults. Although Younghoon is not used to such an amount of communication in his relationships, a long time fan of passive-aggressiveness, he’s content with the current state of things. Friends who fuck on occasion. Isn't that what he wanted?

He tells some of his members, in case he needs someone to cover for him. Sangyeon, because he’s the leader. Juyeon, because he’s his roommate. Chanhee, because he’s asked to know. Jaehyun, because he’s known since the beginning. Sangyeon knows better than to try and nag Younghoon on something about which he’s already made up his mind. Juyeon is awkwardly supportive, Jaehyun is optimistic, says he’s called it from the get-go, and Chanhee is irritated yet amused. Younghoon doesn’t tell Changmin, but the sneaky motherfucker figures it out the first time he’s an Idol Radio guest. 

“I’m a Scorpio, I know things,” Changmin replies with a shrug, his mischievous expression at odds with his bright grapefruit hair. At some point, Youngkyun comes out of the bathroom looking haunted, which could only mean Changmin gave him the shovel talk. 

Younghoon feels weirdly touched by that. His members are concerned, not only with his reputation and overall well-being but with his feelings, too. He’s far from having maidenly sensibilities — that’s Sunwoo — but he likes knowing there’s someone on his corner. And despite his growing fear of how mellow and infatuated he’s getting, he wants his thing with Youngkyun to work. Whatever that means. 

So, when the holidays come around and they’re mostly relieved of their duties, they go on a trip together. They rent a small house in the countryside for three days and two nights, just enough to take a breather. It's refreshing to go somewhere isolated from the watchful eyes of the public, from the loud flashes of the cameras, from the hectic flurry of going to one event to another. To forget their worries for a while, because they work hard enough to deserve it. 

“Do you ever think of what life would be like if we weren’t idols,” Youngkyun asks while they're in the kitchen. They decided to give themselves stupid, mundane tasks to fulfill and the first one is learning how to bake. Their first attempt is cookies, and they end up nailing the flavour, having a decent texture and fucking up the aesthetically pleasing factor. 

Younghoon's star-shaped cookie looks like an alien blob. "I know I would be a terrible cook."

"Same," Youngkyun chuckles, staring at his own heart-shaped cookie which also looks like an alien blob. "No, seriously. Do you ever regret it? Like, we had to come to the middle of nowhere to spend time together alone."

"It's tiring," Younghoon admits. He takes a bite of their cloud-shaped cookie that looks like a sun. "I miss being able to waste my time. Whenever I'm free, I feel like I should do something with it."

Youngkyun shrugs. "I usually sleep. But I know what you mean, hyung. We feel guilty, and we still have to make time for our friends and families."

"And fuck buddies," Younghoon adds cheekily.

Youngkyun shoves him, almost sending him flying off his chair. "So that means you have more than one? And you invite all of them to your big cabin in the woods to deflorate them?"

Younghoon cackles, almost chokes on his distorted pastries. He wipes the tears from his eyes, clutching at his chest. "You're a pest! I miss it when you didn't speak."

"No, you don't," Youngkyun retorts, a twitch on the corner of his mouth. 

Younghoon kisses him - fast, since they're still covered in flour and cookie batter and they have yet to finish their apple pie. "No, I don't."

They face their first crisis thanks to pretty flower boys, which is at the root of most (if not all) of Younghoon's problems.

Idol Radio starts alternating between fixed guests, which means he sees Youngkyun less often than he would've liked. And the lack of his presence, his dry humor and his charming smile, makes everything less fun, but Younghoon tries to roll with the punches. He works hard to be entertaining, to mingle well with whomever they decide to bring, to Ilhoon's unwavering praise. He seems to notice Younghoon is having a harder time and goes easy on him, checks on him in between breaks, gives him chances to prove himself. 

And then Hyunjin comes along. He's sweet, an undeniable beauty with sharp eyes and plump lips, and he doesn't really know anyone so Younghoon helps him out, gives him tips, helps him feel less nervous. Then there's Sanha, a friend of his members, bright and endearing and handsome in a youthful way, seems more experienced in variety shows and bounces off of Younghoon and Ilhoon without struggle. Then there's Donghan, quick and clever and funny and hot in an unassuming way, with his winks and smirks and banter. He's the only one who actually manages to get Younghoon's number and gets him to reply to texts semi-regularly. 

He still misses Youngkyun like crazy, though, a nagging feeling he tries to ignore. Younghoon is better off planning the next steps of his career instead of sulking over not being able to see a boy. He's not a teenager, for fuck's sake.

He's watching a horror movie in the living room after radio filming, resting his head on Changmin's lap, when Juyeon walks up to him and hands him his cellphone. "Hyung, someone's calling you. I think it's your, um, friend."

"Ooooh," Changmin wiggles his eyebrows. "Put him on speaker."

"No, thanks," Younghoon picks up the call, already smiling. "Hey, you."

"Hi," Youngkyun greets him back, the deep rumble of his voice sending butterflies down Younghoon's stomach. "Wait, what the hell was that?"

"Some dude got his head chopped off in this movie I'm watching."

"Deserve," Changmin says, squinting at the TV screen. "He was too stupid to live."

Youngkyun laughs. It sounds off, less spontaneous than usual. “Do you need me to call another time?”

"Nope," Younghoon answers, too fast. He turns to Changmin with his puppy eyes at full force. "Can we finish watching this later?"

"Sure," Changmin shrugs, pauses the movie. "Enjoy your phone sex."

Younghoon flashes him the middle finger before scurrying off to his room, burying himself under the covers. "How come we never considered phone sex?"

"Other than it being lame as fuck?" Youngkyun says, having long before voiced his disapproval towards sexting. "We live with like, a thousand other men. I know exhibitionism is kind of your thing, but…"

"As if it's not yours too," Younghoon snaps back. "If the MBC bathroom walls could speak…"

"I was going through something," Youngkyun hisses, flustered. "We went a long time without seeing each other. I had needs to be taken care of."

That sentence sends Younghoon's blood rushing down to his crotch, which is... not ideal. Thank goodness Juyeon's not here. "So you're not a exhibitionist, then, you're just spoiled."

"Yes, exactly!" Youngkyun replies right away, then backtracks, the weight of what he just said dawning on him. "I mean, no."

Younghoon chuckles. God, he missed him. "And how are you?"

"I'm alright," Youngkyun says, maintaining his tone from earlier. Careful, guarded. "We took so long to film the music video but the result will be nice, I think. What about you, hyung? How's Idol Radio without me?"

"Not as fun without you to pester," Younghoon says, safe yet earnest. "Your Chanhee is hilarious, though. I like him."

"Yeah, I saw that episode. I've been watching the episodes, actually," Youngkyun adds the last part with purposefulness lacing his words and yeah, something is wrong. This isn't how he acts when he's expecting praise or wanting to joke around, which must mean that...

"Okay, what did I do wrong?" Younghoon blurts out. 

Silence. After a few moments, Youngkyun takes a deep, shaky breath. "I've been meaning to ask you a question. I don't know if I should, though."

"It's just me, love," Younghoon says, throws in the pet name for reassurance, and because it tastes sweet on his mouth. "You can ask me anything."

"You'll get offended. You'll think I'm clingy."

"I already do."

Youngkyun scoffs, less tense. "God, you're so annoying."

"Yes, I am," Younghoon admits, tries to sound lighthearted even though he's nervous, scared of having fucked up in some inconceivable way. "Can you tell me what's wrong now?"

"There's nothing wrong, it's just…" Youngkyun trails off. It's easy to imagine him gulping down, his adam's apple bobbing as he braces himself. When he speaks again, it's nearly a whisper. "Chanhee told me you got Hyunjin's number."

"Ah," Younghoon exclaims, eloquent as ever. He didn't remember they exchanged phone numbers but he didn't have any intentions other than networking and helping a fellow idol to get involved. Chanhee couldn't have known that.

"He didn't tattle on you or anything, he just commented," Youngkyun clarifies, always protective over his friends, making sure they're never painted in a bad light "Then remember the bathroom day? After the show was over, I overheard some girls from the staff talking about you and Donghan going out together."

Oh, Younghoon thinks, existential dread building inside him. They didn't go anywhere, him and Donghan, they only mentioned the possibility of drinking together after they found out they had similar tastes in alcohol. The staff couldn't have known that, either.

"God, Ilhoon hyung couldn't shut up about how perfect Sanha was, how much of a good addition for the show he would be, how chummy the two of you were," Youngkyun continues, now seeming less scared of speaking his mind. "And I know we didn't agree on exclusivity but I felt stupid. Like you told me what you tell everyone you find pretty, made me feel special, oldest trick in the book. And I fell for it."

And he was right. Younghoon does feel offended - more than offended, he's mad.

"He was trying to build morale," he starts, focusing on being truthful despite his building anger, his insides turning to ice. "Ilhoon hyung was. I wasn't the same without you around and he wanted me to regain my focus, enjoy myself like I used to. Sanha was the easiest choice, easy to like, Bin's group member."

Youngkyun stays silent. Younghoon takes it as a sign to move on. "Hyunjin is new at this radio guesting thing and I meant to help him. Was gonna ask Chanhee for his number too, but I assumed I could reach out to you if I wanted to talk to him. Donghan and I were talking about how we should get a drink together because we have similar tastes, except it never went anywhere."

"I didn't want you to explain yourself," Youngkyun croaks out.

"I wanted to explain myself," Younghoon says, impassive. "I'm not the Casanova you think I am. Not a liar, either."

"I never said you were a liar," Youngkyun sounds small, pained, his voice coming out in shaky breaths. "It's just… Convenient, isn't it, to you? I am. Nice, fun, always there, easy to meet. I never demanded to be anything else."

Younghoon is about to lash out, to bring up the fact they’ve agreed on this not too long ago, when he hears it. Sniffling. "Youngkyun… Are you crying?"

He sighs. "Yeah, a little. Doesn’t matter, though. Let me finish?"

"Okay," Younghoon concedes softly, his anger giving way to something more vulnerable. Concern. Hurt.

"Being convenient is good. You were convenient to me, too. But then I became greedy," Youngkyun says, and hell, there's so much feeling in him. So much emotion he's unafraid to show, unapologetic about. "And now I want you to find me special the same way I find you special. I don't need to be the only one, maybe, but... I don't know. I'm sorry."

"You were never just convenient," Younghoon confesses. He can open himself bare, too. "I think we need to talk about this in person. But… I miss you like crazy, everytime you're not near. And I need you to know that."

Youngkyun sniffles again. "Me too. I miss you like crazy, too. And, uh, I'll text you about when we can meet. We won't have a lot of time, I have a lot to do for our promotions still, but…"

"It's alright," Younghoon says, his heart melted, mellowed to the bone. A voice at the back of his mind is nagging at him. He should be more insulted, he should be pissed, fuming. However, the boy he likes said he misses him. "We'll find a way."

And find a way they do.

They think of meeting the way they usually do, paying for a night at a hotel room where they could have at least a semblance of privacy or just wait for Younghoon’s parents to leave town again. However, if they did that, there was a high chance they would get carried away, wrapped up in each other like men starved, blinded by the amount of time they spent apart. They’re only humans, after all, with a sheer lack of self-preservation skills. 

So Younghoon sneaks out like a teenager, informs Jaehyun and leaves Sangyeon a note and prays he’ll back before his manager can notice he’s gone. He takes an Uber to the apartment Youngkyun shares with his members and prays. He’s far from a religious type, but he’s turning to any type of spiritual being who would tell him what to do. 

Younghoon has done a lot of thinking the past few days, yet he can’t seem to come to a satisfying conclusion. Things aren’t any less complicated than they were when they decided their relationship wouldn’t be exclusive, wouldn’t be serious, just two friends fooling around. Younghoon’s career is on an uphill climb, his group just got their first music show win and they need to keep the momentum going and hell, he hadn’t fully realized he cared so much before that. How he wants them to get recognized, to get loved, to get what they deserve, what they fought tooth and nail to get. He can’t risk sacrificing their hard work for his whims. 

However. 

He can’t risk giving up on Youngkyun, either, he notices as he sees the younger man leaning against the doorframe, buried in a huge dark blue hoodie. His hair is a rich shade of golden, now, a little shorter than it was before but still long. He’s as beautiful as ever, regardless of how tired he looks. “Hello,” he says, gives him a nervous smile. A tiny olive branch. “Listen, they’re all home, but I’ll just... introduce you to everyone then we can go to my room.”

“Alright,” it’s all Younghoon can manage to let out as Youngkyun reaches out to him and holds his hand, the touch of him achingly familiar. Younghoon is introduced to the guys who live here — Jaeyoon is kindly awkward, Juho is polite and careful, stares at Younghoon as if trying to assess how much of an immediate threat he is, while Sanghyuk tries to crack a couple jokes as an ice breaker and Youngbin tries to be welcoming. 

They all seem worried, though. Younghoon wonders how much they know. He tried to keep his woes as distant from his members as possible, but he knows Youngkyun is more prone to oversharing than he is. Prone to sharing, period. He closes the door, sits on his bed and taps the spot next to him. “I think it would’ve been worse if I just dragged you inside without a word.”

“Yeah, it would have,” Younghoon agrees, sitting at a comfortable distance. “I like your hair. Looks better in person.”

Youngkyun laughs, sheepish. “Yeah? I’m not too sold on it yet.”

“It’s great. You don’t need much to look good, I already told you that,” Younghoon blurts out, his mouth moving faster than his brain.

Youngkyun flinches slightly, his smile faltering. “Uh, I— We gotta talk, don’t we?”

Younghoon can almost hear his stomach churning. He hates this. “Yup, we gotta.”

“Okay,” Youngkyun starts, never one to ruin tradition. “Remember when I told you I wouldn’t have a threesome because I was territorial?”

Younghoon nods. He remembers that day with flawless clarity, which is a miracle considering how drunk he was. 

“I always knew it was a matter of time before I got attached. Caught feelings. I don’t know why I thought I was gonna be all light and breezy about everything. That’s not me, that’s never been me,” Youngkyun lets out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Maybe it’s because there’s a lot at stake for the two of us and I don’t wanna be the person asking you for what you can’t give me. But I’ve been thinking and I figured out what I want, now.”

“And what do you want?” Younghoon asks the million dollar question, wipes his sweaty palms on his pants. 

Youngkyun runs his fingers through his hair, making it frame his face with messy, wavy strands. Unshed tears shine in his eyes — shine with enough feeling to make a weaker man drown, fall to his knees. “You. I don’t need you to call me sweetheart, I don’t need you to take me on dates and bring me to meet your parents, but. I need… I want you to only look at me, hyung. The same way I only look at you. I can’t pretend otherwise anymore.”

“Ah, crap,” Younghoon whispers, and he feels the first drop of water running down his face hot and quick, then the second, and he hurries to hide his face with his hands, but it’s like a dam broke inside him, releasing the oceans of affection running wild inside him. 

Because this is it, isn’t it. The truth he’s been trying to run away from: the reason why he didn’t go drinking with Donghan, the reason why he’s deleted all dating apps from his phone, claiming they weren’t fun anymore and he didn’t have the time. Other boys may be easy and simple and available, but they don’t have Youngkyun’s smile. They don’t have his stupid jokes, the way it’s obvious when he flusters, the taste of his lips. They’re not enough because they’re not the man Younghoon’s fallen in love with.

And what the fuck is he going to do with that? 

Youngkyun holds his hands again, lowers them gently. He takes a look at Younghoon’s face and his brows furrow in concern. “What’s wrong? Why… are you crying? Did I say too much?”

“You said everything,” Younghoon hiccups, wipes at his eyes. Shit, he’s a mess. “Everything I was scared of saying. You’re so much braver than me, and you don’t deserve this.”

“It’s not up to you what I deserve or not,” Youngkyun replies softly. He looks happier, although no less worried. “I’m a grown man, I can make my own decisions.”

Younghoon sniffles. He’s so embarrassed he could die but he’s so tired of pretending, so tired of downplaying his feelings when he doesn’t remember the last time he wanted something so badly he ached with it. Tired of making hard choices. “What you said about being taken on dates, being called sweetheart, meeting the parents, that’s what you deserve. That’s the least you deserve. And I can’t give you that.”

Youngkyun sighs, except it doesn’t sound tired or sad or regretful like the other ones — he sounds fond. “And what can you give me?”

“Hidden vacations in the middle of nowhere,” Younghoon answers, downcast, wishing not for the first time that his life was less complicated. “I can give you drunk cuddles and back massages and bathroom blowjobs and buy you food. I can be your friend when you need me to.”

“That’s more than enough for me,” Youngkyun beams at him, all love and sunlight, holds his face in his hands. “I don’t care about what I deserve. I care about what I want, and I want you. Do you want me?”

“Yes,” Younghoon confirms without thinking. He doesn’t have to think to kiss Youngkyun slow and tender, a hand on his waist, feeling the softness of his lips, the smooth heat of his skin. They part with reluctance, their foreheads still touching. “Whatever I can give, it’s all yours.”

“Good,” Youngkyun giggles, his tiny huff of laughter filling the room to the brim with unadultered joy. And something else, too. “As long as it’s from you, I’ll take it.”

Younghoon has noticed the ring before, of course he has. 

Youngkyun wears it everywhere — to Idol Radio recording, to his group schedules, to drama filming, to their secret encounters. He wears it as a necklace most of the time and it seems to be important, but he’s never spoken in length about its meaning. Younghoon figures he’ll know more when he has to, doesn’t pay enough attention to overthink it. 

Then one day. They’re resting in a hotel room somewhere in Jeju, the riskiest getaway they ever dared to do as soon as they had a decent break on their hands after the year ended, cuddling on a king-size bed and talking in whispers about what’s been happening in their lives. The ring is on the nightstand, together with two half-empty glasses of wine. 

“I’m not saying I changed my mind,” Youngkyun begins, his head rested against Younghoon’s chest as the older man plays with his hair. “But if we were to have a threesome…”

“Oh my God,” Younghoon exclaims, past the point of tipsy. “He’s budging.”

Youngkyun glares at him, except he looks like he’s holding back laughter so his power of intimidation is far from effective. “Shut up. Who would we even invite?”

Younghoon hums, deep in thought. “I dunno. My gay friends are as friendless as I am, and they’d never have sex with us. Maybe with you, but not with me.”

“And you wouldn’t let that happen, would you?” Youngkyun teases, poking at his ribs.

“No way,” Younghoon smirks, relaxed. Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the sea breeze coming at them through the windows, maybe it’s the fact he’s in love. All of the above. “No one’s gonna fuck you like I do, it’d be sad to watch.”

Youngkyun snorts. “Big words from someone who begs me to let him come every other day.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Younghoon says, no actual bite behind his words. “I can’t believe I’m dating you.”

“Is this what we’re doing?” Youngkyun asks, his voice deep and mellow, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on Younghoon’s belly as if following the lines of his body. As if figuring him out, all over again, and never growing tired of it. “Dating?”

“Yeah,” Younghoon replies, his mind drifting to how far they’ve come since they first met. Their closeness has become a staple within the Idol Radio walls, a ripple within the whispers of gossip-hunger staff. Ilhoon created a segment marrying the two of them, Bin and Sanha running their mouths about the hard time they had third wheeling. 

Youngkyun was demanded to visit The Boyz’s dorm, a victim of Haknyeon’s relentless need for making new friends and Sunwoo’s protective glare of death. Youngkyun got a second shovel talk, that day, but he swears it was a nice experience — him and Chanhee get along surprisingly well, because of course they do. On the other hand, Juho no longer considers Younghoon a threat and Taeyang gives him the shovel talk, a murderous intent behind his dashing smile. 

They don’t have only good moments, of course. They have moments where they need to sit down and talk, moments where they need distance to face their personal dilemmas, but they make sure they’re there for each other. They began as friends, and that’s the part of their dynamic they promised themselves wouldn’t change no matter what. It’s nice to have someone by your side who understands the struggles of idolship without worrying about burdening your fellow members.

Youngkyun seems to be thinking about that, too. “Are you ever scared of people finding out? Like, really finding out?”

Younghoon brings one hand to his chin, strokes it as if considering the question. He isn’t, though. Already knows the answer. “Nah.”

“Bullshit,” Youngkyun looks up at him again, squinting. He’s even more expressive when he’s drunk, the amusement in his eyes fooling no one into thinking he’s actually mad.

“I’m serious,” Younghoon retorts, defensive. “I’m honestly too happy to give a fuck.”

Youngkyun snuggles closer, puts an arm around Younghoon’s waist. “Me too. Everyone says it’s too reckless but I don’t care. I’m not scared. Finally.”

Younghoon finds it in an envelope, inside his luggage. The ring, shining silver dots in a straight line, together with a letter. 

He forgets all about unpacking, tunes out Eric’s nagging about his clothes lying everywhere, sits on the floor and unfolds the letter. He recognizes Youngkyun’s chicken scrawl handwriting but they were together all the time during the trip and they didn’t stop to buy supplies which must mean he’s brought this from home. He’s thought about this, planned this, whatever it is.

Dear Younghoonie hyung,

You may think I'm cheesy for this, writing letters, and you'd be right. I'm finding out I'm sappy, a love sick fool, and I've marked the day we first kissed on my calendar. You came to me at a time of my life I was unsure about my own value, and you made me feel like I was special. It's been a year, and you were unwavering on your mission of making me feel loved.

Chanhee says you're spoiling me. Says you're making me even more insufferable, indulging my craziness. I say you're giving me joy, more than massages or free sushi (which I love! please don't stop doing that!). I say you're giving me time with you, whether it's inside the MBC studio being ridiculous with a bunch of boyband members we don't know or inside a private room in an italian restaurant (which was ridiculously expensive and I'll never stop repeating that). I say you're helping me strip off my insecurities, one by one. All you do is give me bits and pieces of yourself, everyday, selfless, effortless, and I chase them like falling stars.

I decided to give you a piece of myself, too. It's a family gift, a heirloom of sorts, and it has a lot of emotional value. I was gonna buy you something else, but things have been hectic lately and I didn't have the time and I wanted it to be a surprise :( So I decided to give you a temporary gift, a token of my love. Something that's as part of me as my skin and bones. Something to remind you, whenever you feel alone, there's someone who adores you with all his heart and is rooting for you always. 

(It's me, by the way! hehe)

With love,

Youngkyunie The demon you see at the corner of your eye when you have sleep paralysis

He cries like a baby while talking to Youngkyun on the phone later, so much that even Eric makes fun of him. Eric. 

And not even this particular humiliation makes Younghoon feel less lucky, less warm, less loved.

A lot happens after that. 

A global pandemic, for one. Performing for empty crowds, without the cheers of fans to motivate them. Being locked together inside the dorms, the members seeing sides of each other they didn't mean to, never signed up for. Joining an Mnet reality show, feeling the weight of the world on their shoulders, giving blood, sweat and tears to put out legendary performances. Bruised legs and twisted ankles, always so tired, missing his friends and family, wondering when's it gonna end, if all their hard work is gonna go to waste. If he ever thought he didn't care enough before, he sure doesn't dare to dream of that possibility now, wants to win so bad he aches with it.

One day, Younghoon is doing a live, riding the waves of their newfound popularity. Trying to keep up with the comments, finding out why he doesn't do this as often - it's overwhelming, and the attention doesn't flatter him as much when he's this exhausted. Then he looks down at the ring and remembers, his heart squeezing itself against his ribcage, the words attached to it. The words only he was able to read. There's someone who adores you with all his heart and is rooting for you.

"Someone's asking about this ring," Younghoon reads. He smiles, unbidden and unafraid, and starts talking.