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It’s rare moments now when the whole group actually gathers together outside of their schedules. Junhoe looks at the people around the room, all of them familiar and strange at once, and not for the first time marvels at how they’d spent years with each other without anyone going crazy.
Not in public, anyway.
“Hey Jinhwan hyung,” he says with a grin, “is it the right time yet?”
Jinhwan sighs, an adorable mix of amusement and sheer tiredness of Junhoe’s shit. “Not now, Junhoe.”
They’re in a villa two hours out of Seoul, an unassuming cottage in a quiet forest resort Yunhyeong found smack dab in the middle of nowhere. The kind of place an idol would retreat to when they need a break from being watched all the time.
They arrived one by one, from their respective schedules or… whatever was keeping them busy these days. They haven’t disbanded. Not officially. But they haven’t had a group schedule in a year and a half, and Junhoe has an uncomfortable suspicion that some of them have grown to like it that way.
They haven’t moved out of their shared apartments. Not officially, or not as a group at least: Bobby hasn’t slept there for more than a night a week, preferring his secret house with his wife and kid; Donghyuk’s room was becoming sparser and sparser by the day, and the number of times Jinhwan can be seen just relaxing in the common areas can be counted in one hand every month. Yunhyeong insists he still lives there because a good sixty percent of his wardrobe is still unmoved, and Chanwoo claims his new pad is still unfurnished so he technically doesn’t live there yet. All Junhoe knows is that the weight of their presence was been replaced by the echoes of their excuses.
What he expected to feel like the liberty of privacy became nothing more than the ringing silence of a slowly emptying house. He used to think he was loud enough for three people so it wouldn’t be a big deal if he had more room to himself.
But… it turns out that a noisy apartment isn’t any less lonely than a quiet one if the only voice you hear in the halls is your own. Jinhwan and Donghyuk aren’t any help with how they just keep ton themselves. Not that Junhoe and Donghyuk have ever had the most relaxed of relationships. Whereas Jinhwan…
Well.
So when Yunhyeong told everyone that he booked a weekend of peace and quiet, Junhoe eagerly went for some much needed chaos.
“I’ve been seeing someone,” says Yunhyeong, breaking the quiet sense of stalemate.
Everyone perks up in intrigue. Chanwoo actually looks up from his phone.
“Are you gonna be a dad too?” Junhoe asks immediately.
“Am I gonna be a godfather?” Bobby follows up, just a split-second after.
Yunhyeong grins impishly. “I don’t think that’s possible. See, I can’t get pregnant.”
A sense of surprise goes around the room. It misses Junhoe completely. He quirks his head, bemused. “Why? Are you shooting blanks or-” and then his brain catches up and reprocesses Yunhyeong’s words. “… Oh.”
“You two inspired me,” Yunhyeong teases him, with a gesture at Junhoe and Jinhwan. “Years too late, but-“
“Thanks,” Jinhwan cuts in drily.
“Don’t take them for inspiration!” Bobby says, waving his hands for emphasis. “Or you won’t even get to go on a second date!” Junhoe doesn’t know what possessed Bobby to speak so carelessly while being seated so close to Jinhwan’s foot.
The truth of the matter is this: they were two, hormone-driven adolescent boys forced into each other’s orbits in a highly stressful situation and led to believe that they had no one else to rely on but themselves. It’s only natural that their mutual attraction felt bigger than it was. Mix those up with Junhoe’s abrasive impulsiveness and Jinhwan’s then unrecognized vanity and it’s a wonder they didn’t fuck each other up as badly as they could have.
Of course, a major part of that was Hanbin. The man was a supportive friend, true, but he was foremost the group’s leader, and his increasingly threatening glares were instrumental in keeping them in line. It was easy to feel in love then, and even easier to be blind to the risks and consequences. Just because the group understood them didn’t mean management will. And just because Junhoe didn’t like it didn’t mean Hanbin wasn’t right.
“Maybe in the future, when we’ve grown up a little more,” Jinhwan said without meeting Junhoe’s eyes.
They were sloppy during rehearsals that evening. It was easy to blame the lack of sleep on their packed schedules, but in reality they’d made a choice to spend their limited free time doing… other things instead of resting. And, as Hanbin said, just because he understood their decision didn’t mean they weren’t wrong to make it. They didn’t act on the best interests of the group. With debut so close they could not risk even a single mistake. The others weren’t letting their hormones factor into their decisions; just because Jinhwan and Junhoe had each other didn’t exempt them from the responsibility.
Hanbin’s wake up call was still ringing in Junhoe’s ears when rehearsal ended, and as soon as they got back to their dorm Jinhwan dragged him to the rooftop deck for some privacy.
“I understand,” said Junhoe from his spot on the floor. He’s exhausted, he’s sleepy, he feels like shit. The night sky was too bare to take any comfort in, curse Seoul’s infamous light pollution. He knew this was coming.
“It’s not that I don’t think we can make this work,” Jinhwan kept on. “I just… maybe now isn’t the right time.”
Junhoe laughed to himself. It’s only slight bitter. “‘Not now,’ huh?”
Jinhwan stifles a chuckle. Junhoe’s lost count of how many times Jinhwan told hom that. “Yeah. Not now, Junhoe.”
And that was that.
“I think what surprises me most,” Chanwoo says, eyes twinkling at Yunhyeong, “is the implication that hyung bottoms.”
Bobby chokes on his beer. Donghyuk winces like he’s immediately scrubbing the image out of his head.
Junhoe pounces on the conversation right away if only to push the awkwardness to its limits. “He’s right. Yunhyeong hyung, I always thought you’d be a top all the way.”
But of course, no one can outmaneuver Yunhyeong’s innate sleaziness. “See, Junhoe, when you find someone who helps you challenge preconcieved notions about yourself and your sexuality-“ He catches the pillow Jinhwan throws at his face.
“I didn’t give up my quiet time alone to hear about Yunhyeong’s sex life,” Jinhwan tells the room flatly. By ‘quiet time alone’ he means locking himself up in his room and enjoying the company of three very familiar green bottles.
He does his best to hide them. But some nights Junhoe feels like talking to his favorite hyung, and some nights Jinhwan forgets to lock the door.
“I agree with hyung,” says Chanwoo. Jinhwan points proudly at him. “I feel like there should be a live demonstration at least. Just to make things interesting.” What Chanwoo has to thank for remaining uninjured is the fact that Jinhwan doesn’t have anything light enough to throw within hand’s reach.
Yunhyeong gets on his feet. “I actually brought some stuff with me. They’re in the fridge right now, marinading. But I’m gonna need an extra pair of hands to get everything ready in time for dinner. Any volunteers?”
They have this thing where if anyone asks for a volunteer, the last person to disinclude himself gets selected.
The logical choice to do any work in the kitchen were either Jinhwan or Bobby.
Which makes it ironic that the fastest “Not me!” came from Bobby, and the loudest came from Jinhwan.
While Junhoe, who was distracted by the visual of Yunhyeong on his back, legs spread wide open-
He only registers Yunhyeong’s words when the rest of the room was already cheering.
Bobby tries to save him. “I want dinner to be edible, man!” Or to save everyone, given Junhoe’s prowess in the art of food preparation.
“Junhoe will do just fine,” Yunhyeong assures them confidently, heading to the kitchen. Junhoe wonders if there’s anything that can stifle Yunhyeong’s famed optimism. “I won’t make him actually cook anything. Just to be around and hand me stuff so I can make sure the meat doesn’t burn.”
Donghyuk relaxes once again now that he’s not faced with the prospect of food poisoning.
Junhoe follows Yunhyeong, dragging his feet with every step. Almost out of earshot he hears Chanwoo ask, “Anyone else getting last supper vibes just now?”
Junhoe doesn’t. But then again, he’s not exactly the most insightful.
Yunhyeong’s “stuff” turns out to be pork chops marinading in… something. Junhoe tends to tune out discussions of food before it’s turned into the finished product. It’s brown and murky. He thinks it’s soy sauce. He isn’t sure.
Junhoe looks around for anything he can help with. Nothing comes to mind. “You know my presence anywhere near a stove can cause spontaneous cooking fires, right?”
“Good thing it’s an electric stove,” Yunhyeong says, donning his apron. There’s a picture of himself and an unfamiliar man on the front, not doing anything overtly romantic but Junhoe knows it’s just plausible deniability.
“He’s handsome, hyung.”
“Of course,” Yunhyeong says, grinning warmly. “He’s very lucky to have me.”
Junhoe really should have expected that from Yunhyeong.
“I meant what I said, though,” Yunhyeong continues. “About you and Jinhwan inspiring me. Late, yeah, but I guess it’s better than never, right?”
“Honestly? I thought you were just experimenting with me.”
“I mean. I was, back then.”
“Ah.”
Yunhyeong pauses from organizing his working area. Chopping board squarely right in front of him, pile of vegetables to the left and various empty bowls to the right. “I… hope you’re not mad.”
“Nah, hyung,” says Junhoe breezily. “I was mad, that was pretty fucking obvious, but not at you. But who cares anymore, it’s been years.”
He can say it so easily now. The soul-choking bitterness that used to clog his throat has since fossilized among the deeper strata of his gut, to be excavated only when he needs to draw deep for a burst of emotion.
He was never angry at Yunhyeong. Why would he be? There was a give and take - a transaction - in his rebound guy using him as an experiment.
Yunhyeong rubs his hands, picks up his knife, and slices an onion clean in half. “Enough time has passed. You two are different people now. Maybe it’s time to try again.”
Junhoe snorts derisively, unfiltered as he always is. “You heard him, hyung.”
Yunhyeong, carefully, chops the onion into thin half-circles. He’s squinting, maybe in concentration, maybe to stop his eyes from tearing up. “Yeah. ‘Not now,’ huh? I’ve heard that so many times that the words have completely lost meaning.” Expertly, he slides his first batch aside with a comfort in his knife that Junhoe can only ever replicate with his guitar. “Do you regret anything, Junhoe? About you and him?”
It’s a question that Junhoe asks himself every few months, every few years, every few times he asks Jinhwan like a broken record. While Jinhwan’s answer remains the same, Junhoe’s answer to himself come from an infinite pool of options.
He regretted being in a group where Hanbin is the leader at first, but then he learned quickly why Hanbin was right and Junhoe was just being a hotheaded horny teenager. He regretted choosing to chase a dream that thrust him in the spotlight almost 24/7, but if he hadn’t done that he wouldn’t have met Jinhwan in the first place. At one point he regretted living in a country where his romantic life would always be judged… but then he didn’t have any mental framework about how else his life could have been. Maybe if Jinhwan had just stayed in the Philippines and serendipity could have brought Junhoe to him there…
He had as many answers as how many times he’d had the thought.
“Right now, hyung?” He watches Yunhyeong crush garlic with the flat of his knife. “I’m regretting that we ever got together. Maybe if I didn’t know what being with him was like- maybe if I didn’t know how happy that made me, I wouldn’t be so hung up on making it happen again.”
Yunyeong glances up at him. He sets his knife down, lays his hand on Junhoe’s shoulder, lets Junhoe rest his cheek against his knuckles and relish the small comfort that it brings.
It’s just like before, years ago, when Junhoe was a lot more broken and Yunhyeong a lot more confused. Junhoe had been in a sour mood for days, snapping at everyone, everything, ready to throw down with Hanbin whenever their leader told him to get it together, and both Bobby and Yunhyeong were ready to jump in and pull them apart. But no, no punches were thrown, no quarrels erupted outright. Just Junhoe spending every second of free time in his room and not joining anyone’s plans.
So Yunhyeong checked up on him. Yunhyeong sat on Junhoe’s bed and asked if they could hang out. If there’s anything he could do to get Junhoe’s mind off of things. And Junhoe… pulled him closer, made Yunhyeong lie down too and just rested his head on Yunhyeong’s chest. Yunhyeong wasn’t the hyung he wanted to be with right then, but he’s who was there. And Yunhyeong’s comfort… is nice.
Crying or talking would have done wonders. But Junhoe didn’t know how to start either. And for the first time in weeks he was comfortable just… being in the moment. Yunhyeong was filling the silence with stories of high school when a thought crossed Junhoe’s mind. He raised his head to look at his hyung, and their eyes met. And they reached an understanding.
Junhoe, for his reasons, leaned in for a kiss.
Yunhyeong, for his reasons, kissed back and tentatively took the lead.
Does two people’s selfishness cancel each other out? At some point, does it turn into generosity?
“You know what I don’t get, hyung?” Junhoe nudges an empty bowl closer to Yunhyeong. The onions are stinging his eyes. “Why doesn’t he just say ‘no’?”
Junhoe’s assistance extends at most to hovering over Yunhyeong’s shoulder when it’s time to actually cook. (He’d started to wash the chopping board. But then he saw Yunhyeong’s lips pursed quietly and guessed he’s doing it wrong. Which is fair. Junhoe doesn’t fault him for that.)
Yunhyeong sends him away after his fifth “Is it cooked yet?” in three minutes. Junhoe reminds him that he’s here to help, but Yunhyeong insists that he can best help this time by making sure Bobby doesn’t come down to ask what’s taking dinner so long. Junhoe obliges by grabbing a beer in each hand from the fridge and making his way upstairs.
He finds Bobby and Donghyuk on the deck. They’re lounging on chairs and it’s so easy to picture them sunbathing if it weren’t for the fact that there’s no sun. The dark hasn’t set in yet but the early evening mist is thick enough to hide the mountains in the distance.
“It’s creepy, isn’t it?” Donghyuk observes.
“But in a pretty way,” Bobby responds.
Junhoe takes the empty chair to Bobby’s right and offers them the beers. Bobby takes one with a muttered thanks. Donghyuk declines with a wave of his hand. Great, because Junhoe’s not in the mood to go down for another can.
“Is dinner ready?” Bobby asks.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Didn’t you literally come from the kitchen?”
“Amusing how you think I have any idea how cooking works.” Junhoe pops his can open and drinks deeply. “Aren’t you two cold?”
“Just enough to enjoy it.” Donghyuk cranes his neck forward to look at Junhoe from Bobby’s other side. “Hey, June?”
Junhoe recognizes Donghyuk’s tone. That cheerful inquisitiveness that means he’s in the mood for a long conversation. And while Junhoe generally doesn’t know when to shut up, Donghyuk has a way of leading a conversation that can get Junhoe’s thoughts tied up in knots.
Donghyuk gives him one of those grins. “What do you think is gonna happen to us?” he asks in such a casual tone that Junhoe almost forgets he’s been pushing that same question to the back of his mind.
Times like these he could really do with Bobby’s vaunted optimism. It’s not a statement that he usually finds himself saying.
Junhoe and Bobby… they’re never going to be the best of friends. The time has long passed to figure why. These days there’s just a cheerful acceptance that their wavelengths are just too different.
It doesn’t matter that Bobby was one of Junhoe’s and Jinhwan’s most vocal supporters back in the day. It doesn’t matter that even after they broke up, Bobby believed wholeheartedly that it was just a matter of time before the power of love proved itself infallible and drew the two of them together again.
Bobby lives his life with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.
Which Junhoe finds completely unrelatable. He doesn’t push himself to see the bright side of everything. Which in his opinion is pretty alarming because all in all he lives a pretty good life even with all the ups and downs. How many people his age are actually living their dream?
“I haven’t thought about it,” he says. It’s only half a lie anyway.
“I wish I could live my life like that,” Donghyuk says, enviously. “I let my brain just run on and on too much.”
“You need a tranquilizer,” Bobby agrees. “But, like, to the head.”
Junhoe gapes at Donghyuk. “Are you implying that my head is empty? That I have no thoughts?”
“Implying? No…”
Bobby taps a rhythm into his can. He always needs something physical to displace his anxiety. It’s a mannerism that Junhoe learned to live with even if he finds it annoying at times. (Junhoe is very aware of the irony. Him finding someone else annoying? Fascinating.) Bobby leans back against his chair and sighs at the sky. “I’m not going to renew my contract.”
Junhoe wishes he could say he’s surprised. He saw this one coming a mile away. Bobby is immensely talented in so many ways. He needs the right support to develop it - support that their company isn’t offering.
“I just… need more control over my time,” Bobby continues. “And I don’t see our company agreeing to give me that much freedom.”
“You don’t have to defend your decision, hyung.” Junhoe really should have brought more beer. He looks over at Donghyuk. “You too?”
Donghyuk chuckles. “I don’t think any of us will, honestly.”
“You know what? That is absolutely fair.”
“Might be a good thing for you in more ways than one.” Bobby closes his eyes. He breathes in deeply, like he’s trying to be light enough to float away. “Maybe when this whole group thing isn’t dangling over our heads anymore, you and hyung can finally have another chance.”
Junhoe doesn’t answer. He hopes his silence tells Bobby and Donghyuk enough about how likely he thinks that’s going to happen.
Dinner, as it should go without saying, is lovely.
The marinade turned out to be a mix of soy sauce and miso. The onions from earlier were mixed into a vegetable salad. And there were a lot more things on the table than Junhoe thinks even Yunhyeong by himself would have been able to prepare in the time he had.
Jinhwan most likely came down to help after Yunhyeong not so subtly shooed his first assistant upstairs. It definitely wouldn’t have been Chanwoo.
“So what’s this outing really about?” Jinhwan asks after everyone’s spoons are down. “I’m happy for you and all, but I don’t think your big announcement from earlier is the entire reason why you organized this.”
“You’re so nosy, man,” Bobby chides him. “Why are you so suspicious?”
“Because I’m right,” Jinhwan says shortly.
Junhoe glances at the end of the table opposite Jinhwan, at Yunhyeong delicately nudging his plate aside. It’s such a simple action yet he captures everyone’s attention.
Donghyuk reaches for the closest bottle of raspberry wine and empties it into his glass. Junhoe knows a good idea when he sees one; he grabs the merlot from the center of the table and pours for both himself and Chanwoo.
Yunhyeong’s eyes follow along. He raises an eyebrow at Bobby - who raises his beer - and Jinhwan - who stares stonily back.
Yunhyeong blinks slowly, takes a deep breath, and says, “I’m leaving the company.” Junhoe chokes on his drink. Chanwoo, displaying more aptitude than his hyung, waited for Yunhyeong to finish speaking before indulging his wine.
“I think we all are, anyway,” says Donghyuk neutrally. Like it’s just a forgone conclusion that everyone should have arrived at by now. His glass is still on the table.
“I mean,” Yunhyeong continues seriously. He’s brimming with an energy that Junhoe doesn’t normally asssociate with him. A… sense of guilt. Junhoe feels a weight settle heavily in his gut. “I’m not even going to wait for my contract to expire. I’ve finalized my papers with the company. I’m leaving the country next month.”
And that’s what makes Donghyuk raise his glass and empty it in one shot.
Yunhyeong isn’t done yet. “The company’s been sitting on the announcement. I insisted that they wait until I tell you guys first. The moratorium lifts on Monday. I’ll have told everyone important by then. But outside of executive management, my family, and my lawyer, you guys are the first to know.”
Bobby breaks the silence right away with a hearty, “Good for you, man!” He’s only a second ahead of Jinhwan’s, “Taking control of your life, huh?”
“WHY?” Junhoe finally shouts after he gets his breath back.
“Is it because of having a boyfriend, hyung?” Chanwoo asks quietly.
“It’s a mix of things,” says Yunhyeong. His energy dies down, to be replaced by a tired helplessness. “That’s part of it. Just… wanting to enjoy my time with Minwoo without having to hide who we are. He has family in Ireland. He has a job waiting for him, and I’ll be working with the Korean embassy on projects to promote our food and culture. It’s still a bit of the celebrity life but far more relaxed than what I have now. And if everything goes well… we can actually get married there. Settle down and start a family.”
Fuck.
Junhoe hides his face in his hands. He tamps down on the surge of sheer wanting that shoots up his spine. Stomps on the what ifs and imagined scenarios of himself and Jinhwan living the life Yunhyeong just described.
Tells himself there’s no point in getting his hopes up. He and Jinhwan… neither of them have that kind of courage.
“Have you told Hanbin?” Bobby asks.
“I’m going to call him later tonight.” Yunhyeong looks down at his hands. “I wanted you guys to know first.”
“He’ll be happy for you,” Bobby says. There’s a current in his tone, a firm reassurance buoyed up by deep certainty.
Yunhyeong smiles again, but this one doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know.”
“I,” says Jinhwan, getting on his feet, “am gonna need something a lot stronger than wine.”
Bobby and Donghyuk volunteer to do the clean up. It’s a transparent excuse to spend more time in the kitchen and keep drinking, but Junhoe isn’t going to stop them in case they make him do the dishes instead.
Yunhyeong excuses himself to go on an evening walk. Also a transparent excuse, but no one’s going to question him for wanting privacy to talk to Hanbin.
And later tonight, someone’s gonna need to check on Hanbin.
It’s too late and Junhoe’s too drunk for an evening jog. The fog is too thick to see more than a few paces ahead of him. He might have still gone for it if they were back home, but even he knew it’s a bad idea out here where there are no lights along the path and he didn’t know the routes. His energy will have to wait for sunrise.
Besides, it’s been a long day. He should get some sleep. Wrap it up before something else happens. He’s already at full mental processing capacity.
Just a quick visit to the bathroom to relieve himself, where Chanwoo is pulling his shirt off to take a shower.
“Hyung!”
“What? What are you looking at?” Junhoe challenges him. As if he wasn’t the one who just barged in and promptly went about his business.
Chanwoo rolls his eyes and just waits for Junhoe to be done. He’s gotten used to Junhoe’s eccentricities. It’s not the first showertime that Junhoe interrupted and it won’t be the last. It’s among the last, but… not the last quite yet.
At least Chanwoo’s not in the middle of a shower this time.
But unlike the usual experience of Junhoe just teasing, flushing, and leaving, this time Junhoe… actually washes his hands. Slowly. Methodically. He even soaps up a second time with a serious look on his face.
Chanwoo gets the hint. “Is… there anything I can do for you, hyung?”
Junhoe promptly turns the faucet off, wipes his hands on his shorts, and leans his back on the wall with his arms crossed. “Can you believe we’ll only have hyung for a month now?”
Chanwoo considers his shirt in his hands like he’s wondering if he should put it back on. Junhoe isn’t showing any signs of wanting to leave soon. “It’s what’s best for him, hyung. What I feel about it is inconsequential.”
“I know that, that’s not what’s bothering me. He’s just so confident about his future, isn’t he?”
“I’ve never known Yunhyeong hyung to ever be unsure of anything.” Chanwoo slowly lowers himself to the floor. “Are you not confident about your future, hyung?”
Junhoe follows Chanwoo’s example. “Fuck, are you?” Just two bandmates sitting on opposite ends of the bathoom floor, one of them shirtless, talking about their future like it’s no big deal.
“I may have given it some thought.”
Of course he has. Of course Chanwoo has more of his life figured out despite being almost a full year younger.
“I’m thinking of following Hanbin’s footsteps,” says Chanwoo carefully. “Establish my own label. But on a smaller scale, and not for music. More… a studio for acting and modeling. I won’t be as successful as him at it, but… I’ll be something. Someone.”
It’s not a bad idea. Junhoe can see it working for Chanwoo. All this celebrity life is just business after all, and Chanwoo has shown savvy with that side of things. “You’d make a killing with that. Don’t compare yourself with Hanbin. There’s more than one way to be successful in this industry.”
Chanwoo looks Junhoe straight in the eye. “And there’s more than one way to find love and be happy. More than one person in the world for that.”
“I’m talking about our future,” Junhoe says, affronted. “Not about… that. That’s a completely different thing.”
“Maybe, maybe.” Chanwoo obviously doesn’t agree. “I just think you pinned your future on Jinhwan. Put too much pressure on you and him getting back together when what you needed was to relax and reevaluate. You got stuck on this idea of Jinhwan being The One because you were in love when you were younger.”
“You weren’t even around then!”
“I was there at the end of it,” Chanwoo reminds him. “I was there when you two were trying to move past it. I was there when you two were distracted and screwing up and Hanbin was yelling at everyone to get it fucking together.”
Junhoe can’t argue with that. And to his credit he did feel guilty about his missteps causing extended practices. He’s made it up to the members over the years so he doesn’t feel as bothered anymore, even if the recollection still makes him cringe.
He plays with the hem of his shorts. Chanwoo had put in words what Junhoe was trying not to acknowledge all this time. “I don’t think Jinhwan hyung wants to get back together. I’ve been asking for years and he always just says ‘not now’. Like he’s too afraid to say ‘no’.”
Chanwoo quirks his head thoughtfully. “What do you think he’s afraid of?”
“To hurt me,” Junhoe says. “Or… I like to think he’s afraid of that.”
Chanwoo doesn’t answer.
“You don’t think so?”
“I agree that I hope hyung is afraid of that.”
“But you don’t think that’s why?”
“I think hyung’s afraid of the same things you are. He just deals with them differently.” Chanwoo shakes his head at a question Junhoe didn’t ask. Junhoe wonders just how often Chanwoo has discusses his hyungs’ well-being with himself. “Not everyone can come back like Hanbin. I think Jinhwan’s afraid that if he does something that compromises the results of all his hard work, he won’t be able to recover with the same measure of success. And honestly? I get it. He’s built so much, hyung. We all have. And the more we stand to lose, the more terrifying it is to take risks.”
That hit so close to home than Junhoe almost just stood up and walked out. He didn’t want to confront that reality just yet even if he knew he was running out of time. “Just shows how Yunhyeong’s a completely different breed from the rest of us, huh?”
“I don’t know where he gets it.”
Junhoe can relate to that. All of them can. “Jinhwan agreed to be with me once. But yeah… we were kids. Weren’t even real idols yet. Didn’t have as much to lose. So we just gave that up so we wouldn’t put what we really wanted at risk.”
“Happiness is so complicated, isn’t it, hyung? The older we get, the harder it is.”
“And we’re not even old yet. Maybe somebody should tell kids in our industry exactly what they’re giving up.”
“But let’s be real, hyung,” Chanwoo says confidently, and Junhoe knows what he’s going to say is right even before he hears the words. “If someone had told you that, you wouldn’t have done anything differently. You would still give everything up just so you could debut. We all would.”
The villa has three bedrooms so the math easy enough.
Most of the time it’s Bobby’s decision that determines who ends up rooming with who. It’s not because he has any authority on the matter: him choosing Yunhyeong leaves Chanwoo and Donghyuk to a room, or him choosing Donghyuk leaves the twins to their room. Rarely, he’d choose Chanwoo so they could talk about games, which leaves Yunhyeong and Donghyuk to talk about Goals and Aspirations and everyone agrees that they’re the worst possible combination.
The only unspoken constants are Junhoe and Jinhwan.
Junhoe never bothered to figure out why. It can be anything from a whole bucket of reasons, from him being loud (true) or annoying (doubly true) to just plain indecipherable (a given). If he’s being charitable (or deluded, he acknowledges) he considers that maybe it’s because they’re giving him and Jinhwan another Opportunity. As if all the previous hundred other times counted for something.
What’s that thing about doing the same thing and expecting different results?
“Hyung?”
Jinhwan isn’t asleep. He doesn’t respond, but he and Junhoe have shared a room - even a bed - so many times over the years that Junhoe can pick up on Jinhwan’s smallest subconscious cues. He can’t even identify what it is that tipped him off. He just knows, and he knows he’s right.
Junhoe climbs into Jinhwan’s bed. Gently lays an arm across Jinhwan’s waist. Rests his head so close to Jinhwan’s that his breath tickles Jinhwan’s neck. “I’m scared too, hyung.”
Jinhwan raises a hand to cup Junhoe’s cheek. “It’s gonna be fine.”
“I know.” It used to be that this proximity would drive Junhoe crazy, being this close to Jinhwan’s lips and not be allowed to kiss him. But time made dealing with it easier even if it didn’t dampen the urge. Junhoe’s thumb traces circles on the side of Jinhwan’s stomach, distracting his focus from Jinhwan’s lips . “We’re all going to be fine. I mean, the group… we all knew it’s not forever.”
Junhoe sighs in disappointmen when Jinhwan takes his hand off his cheek. And even worse, he lays the hand firmly on top of Junhoe’s to keep his thumb still.
Knowing each other that well… it goes both ways. Like how Jinhwan knows what Junhoe wants to ask just based on how his breath hitches before steeling himself to say the words.
“Hyung-“
“Not n-“
“I know, i know. Not now, right? Of course. Yeah. Sorry.“
“I just don’t think now’s a good time to try again, Junhoe. You know this.”
It’s this old song and dance again. And Junhoe’s tired of it. He knows he can’t have what he wants, but can he have something at least? “Yeah, I get that, hyung. I just figured… our ‘now’ is gonna change. And I thought, if we didin’t have a group to compromise anymore…”
“We’d still have our careers,” Jinhwan says quietly. “Whatever they may end up being. That part wouldn’t change.”
He’s right. Of course. Junhoe knew that going in, he knew better than to expect Jinhwan would change his mind. He has tons of experience dealing with the disappointment.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you the answer you want,” Jinhwan tells him.
Junhoe sighs. The warmth of his breath doesn’t travel very far. “Nothing to be sorry about, hyung. I should have known better than to ask again anyway. I guess… I just needed to hear that ‘not now’ means ‘maybe someday’, not… ‘not anymore’.”
“I don’t know that, Junhoe.”
Junhoe nods. He presses his forehead against Jinhwan.
“You know I love you.”
“I do know that. It’s just… I feel like I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. Like I’ve always just been waiting to be happy. And… I think it’s time that I… not be like that anymore.”
Jinhwan shifts in bed so he can see Junhoe’s face. “Are you saying-“
“Hyung, I love you so much that I’ve lost sight of the reality that you shouldn’t be the only one to make me happy. I’m relearning that now. That doesn’t mean you’ll stop being my Jinhwan hyung. It just means that… I need to be open to happiness. In whatever way it may come. Not just the kind where I’m with you. And that maybe someday - not now but someday - if the time is right and we’re both still looking for each other… maybe then. But I can’t promise that, hyung. Not anymore.”
Jinhwan closes his eyes and drinks in Junhoe’s words. “I understand. You deserve that. God, this whole situation sucks.”
“So much.”
Jinhwan laces his fingers between Junhoe’s. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry. That you put your happiness on hold for me.”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t ask me to.” It’s never too late for perspective and self-awareness. “I was just a dumb, lovestruck kid who couldn’t let go.”
Jinhwan smiles, bitter for himself, but encouragingly for Junhoe. “I’m excited to see the person you’ll grow up to be. The one who’s not waiting for a scared hyung to get his shit together.”
“You know what, hyung?” Junhoe lies on his back so he can peer up at the ceiling and imagine the stars above them. “I’m excited for that too.”