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The warmth of neon lights overhead felt palpable on his skin even as they were turned off and as the glass doors closed behind them for the last time. When the gasping breaths had turned into soft chatter and the thunderous stomping of their feet into gentle rustling of clothes as they all made their way out of the practice room, that’s when Sehyoon found his heart aching.
He would miss the practice room. The neon lights and the stomping feet and loud gasps for breath.
The evening had long since passed, the only light illuminating the streets now being that of street lamps and cars passing by as they, one by one, walked out of their building, all five in hesitation and with casted glances. The chatter was quieter than usual, or perhaps it was just the lack of Chan’s ringing laughter that so often filled the silence. He has been heartbreakingly quiet, they all were. But to Sehyoon, that came as no surprise. He knew his members like the back of his hand. They wore their hearts on their sleeve, most of the time, honest and raw and full of all those optimistic, positive thoughts he sometimes struggled to truly embrace. But embrace he did, more and more in the last year, thanks to them. So perhaps, now…
Perhaps, now, it was his turn to do the same for them. So, he talked louder, he laughed and poked Jun’s side as he saw the leader's expression fall, he breathed in the night air and told them that he is hungry, that maybe they should go to the dorm and cook together. Donghun looked at him, eyebrow raised, something in his gaze that wasn’t quite defined, and then added they should get drinks, too.
So, they did. A quick stop by their favorite convenience store and they were in the company car again, leaned against the fake leather with something soft playing on the radio and a few harmonies filling the space. It was probably Donghun who started singing this time, again, picking up on Sehyoon’s intentions and carrying it through. The younger were not ones to usually feel down and yet, every once in a while, they too needed them to ease their worries.
The future was uncertain, but for Sehyoon, perhaps for Donghun too, it also felt like a new chapter. And who was to say that was a bad thing?
As their dorm got crowded, their manager joining in for a drink and sounds of pots clattering, soju bottles opening, the chatter mixing in with some Top50 playlist put on Junhee’s sound system, it felt a bit easier. It felt like the old times. They were even making their speciality, the smell of ramen familiar as they laughed over Chan’s cutting skills and took shots with a loud cheer.
Set to be a hero, A.C.E!
It felt like home.
But Sehyoon kept an eye on one of them. The usually boisterous, energetic, passionate Kim Byeongkwan, who was now quietly bent over the pot on the stove, the shot glass next to him untouched. Perhaps, the renewed energy passed over his head and perhaps, there was too much weighting on his shoulders for him to truly straighten up, but whatever the reason was, Sehyoon didn’t like it. The younger were not ones to usually feel down, but Byeonkgwan...
Sehyoon needed him to look up and smile. To encourage him as he usually did. To bring forth that warmth that he will be missing from now on, not the one from neon lights but one from their unity.
Having his family by his side was what had saved him time and time again, and Byeongkwan fit right in there with all of them.
So, it was his turn, this time.
He came up to him, with a soft smile and a raised glass, and his arm wrapped around the lean waist as he leaned against him, cheek against soft black hair, words murmured into the lobe of his ear.
“Kwannie.. Drink with me.”
There was a moment of tension, a breath that escaped the full lips, and then the younger looked up, the darkness in his eyes lingering and persistent, and he let him see it, too. Sehyoon didn’t budge, didn’t let himself withdraw as he usually would. He stayed there, tall and with a smile on his face, and this time, Byeongkwan didn’t win. The bubbling of ramen was forgotten about momentarily as they raised their glasses and clanked them together, and in one swep, the warmth of alcohol slid down their throats and filled them from inside out. Darkness eased, and Sehyoon felt a pang of joy instead.
“Another.”
“Sure,” he replied with a chuckle and reached over to steal the bottle Chan has been holding onto for his dear life. The youngest shouldn’t really drink too much anyway - they all still had blackmail material on him from last Christmas.
He poured them another shot, and this time, Byeongkwan turned to him, never pulling away, and raised the toast with a hint of mischief. “Think you can handle this, though? You know once I start, I’m not going to -...”
“Whatever happens, Kwannie. Let’s have fun together, okay?”
That was all the other needed to hear, it seemed, because then, the soju was gone and so was the darkness. And perhaps Sehyoon had dug his own grave, knowing the dancer as well as he did, because his words rang true.
Food was served and consumed in a mess of dirty dishes, giggling, more shots and an impromptu singing session that included some Celine Dion and VIXX, because of course it would. Chan had ended up sandwiched between Junhee and Donghun, his voice cracking on the high notes and his demeanor perhaps a tad intoxicated, but not like any of them really minded. Their manager had been fed, thanked, hugged, and then promptly sent home to his wife before she called in with one of those scary speeches again - though perhaps, tonight, she understood why he only came home way past midnight. Perhaps, she understood that now of all times, they needed their family to be complete. And performances, promotions, schedules be damned.
That’s what Sehyoon thought when he took a long sip from the bottle, belly full and Junhee’s voice lulling him in that welcomed state of comfort. There was not much he needed to say anymore, they had talked before, they all knew what he had to say. All but…
“I’m happy,” he uttered under his breath. And he meant it.
Be it this moment or be it all the moments that led them to this, be it the staff, the family, the fans, the members, he wasn’t sure. But he found himself knowing that he would remember all of it.
Only one person heard him, too - Donghun was too busy trying to steer Channie’s affections to Junhee, halfheartedly, and Junhee got that familiar gaze in his eyes as he watched them, the adoration practically pouring from the man. But Byeongkwan, who was seated next to him, now shifted closer, his shoulder pushing against his chest, his lips tugging in a smile maybe for the first time that day. It was a beautiful sight.
“It shows. Sehyoon, you should be happy more often.”
He laughed at that, breathed in the scent of ramen and Byeongkwan’s shampoo, and then nosed against his hair, and his forehead. His eyes slid shut for a moment.
“I know. Choice tell me that too. My sister, too. And now you.”
“Happiness suits you.”
“As does you, Kwannie,” he hummed, and perhaps he was leaning a bit too close and maybe he was a bit too tipsy, too, but it felt comfortable. His smile pressed against Byeogkwan’s temple.
“You know, Choice will miss having you around. I will also -...”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he cut through, pushed against the dread that would otherwise take over again. He didn’t want it. He has spent too much of his life already consumed by it and now, here, he wanted it gone. New chapter.
Byeongkwan swallowed thickly, then tilted his glass again, emptying whatever was inside to steady himself through the blur of alcohol, and then, his hand found his and he was pulling on it.
“I need some air. Come with me.”
“But -...” Sehyoon looked over at Chan who was practically asleep now, head on Donghun’s shoulder and legs thrown over Junhee’s lap, trapping them both in what seemed to be a rather deep conversation that involved fingers lacing on top of Channie’s knee, murmurs, a shy smile from Junhee every once in a while. They seemed to be wrapped up perfectly, and Sehyoon knew that whatever may come of it, Donghun would handle it as he always had. So it was okay to let himself be pulled away by Byeongkwan, who needed him alone and who wouldn’t take no for an answer, especially now.
They stumbled on the rooftop with noise not suited for the late hour of the night, but Sehyoon couldn’t bite back the chuckling as he watched Byeongkwan try to compose himself from nearly tripping over the stairs he had walked up countless times before. The usual grace and finesse were gone and the man before him was all raw and exposed, and looking at him with something heavy in his gaze. His hand was still wrapped around Sehyoon’s as he tugged him to the corner of the terrace, to the very edge with nothing but night air and illuminated streets laid out before them. The city was never asleep, but it was quieter, and quiet enough so that when they sat on the old bench, it groaned in protest and had Byeongkwan giggle, make a remark about Sehyoon’s muscles, and press against him. There was an autumn chill brought on by the soft breeze, but it didn't phase either of them.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated, after they had been sitting there for a long minute or perhaps a short decade. “I know everyone keeps thinking that, Choice and members, but I need you to know, at least. Really know, I mean.”
Byeongkwan’s back stiffened against his arm, and he had to bite his lip waiting for a response. “It’s easier said than done, Sehyoon.”
“I know.”
“It feels... “
“Yeah.”
“You aren’t just someone, you know?”
That’s when he looked down. “What do you mean?”
“Well...” There was hesitation, and Byeongkwan was never one to hesitate. How strange. “... You mean a lot to a lot of people. So it’s frustrating - that you don’t realize that fully sometimes. You seem so oblivious to it sometimes it angers me, even. Because you just don’t seem to see it.”
Sehyoon’s eyebrows grew tighter together the more the words poured out, and at the end, he barely dared to speak. Speaking was always something he liked to take time with, always trying to convey his thoughts carefully, and now, he was being challenged, once again by Kim Byeongkwan, to choose his words with no preparation.
“Who are you talking about? Is it our fans, is it my family or members, or is it you, specifically?” If he was to be pushed against, then he would do so back. He was always urged by Byeongkwan to speak his mind, after all.
And that seemed to be something that the younger both wanted and dreaded, because it didn’t take seven years of friendship for Sehyoon to see the other falter, trip over his own intentions and then hesitate, once again. It was such a rare sight it almost overshadowed the true meaning behind it, and it took Sehyoon a moment before he felt realization slowly trickle in.
“Byeongkwan,” he started, name falling from his lips as he leaned in closer, autumn breeze carrying the words. “You really think I don’t see it? That’s a bit hurtful.” He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, or perhaps the chilly breeze, or something else, but the pale skin was coloring pinker, warmer. He liked it, though. Perhaps he should paint it on paper sometime, encapsulate Byeongkwan’s flustered expression forever as the masterpiece it was. “We’ve been together for… seven years now? We’ve been through thick and thin, through nights when we didn’t know what the next day would bring, and you always stuck by my side. How would someone do that if they didn’t truly see something in me I didn’t see myself?”
He was wrapping himself around Byeongkwan with words and arms and all the comfort he could muster, like a warm blanket meant to pull the smaller man in and protect him from the unknown as the other had done so many times for him, too. His hold tightened on his waist and his eyes never moved away, even as Byeongkwan’s cheeks seemed to grow uncomfortably hot. There was no escape anymore, but that much he should have known before he pushed. Sehyoon didn’t hold back around Byeongkwan. Others, perhaps, but he…
He was special. “You are special to me. You mean a lot to me, too. And it’s time now.”
“Time for what?” The words were meant for only Sehyoon’s ears. Byeongkwan looked scared and encouraged all at once, and he looked happier. Happy, with Sehyoon.
“For a new chapter.”
“Oh.”
And then he kissed Kim Byeongkwan, on the rooftop in the autumn breeze and the soft lull of night traffic and cicadas. His hand slid from the waist, up the curve of the back, over the lean neck, into the dark hair he wanted to anchor his fingers into for so long already. Chest pressed together, he could swear he felt a heartbeat drumming along his own, was that possible? Maybe it was his imagination, again. But it was beautiful nonetheless, and perhaps this was the most perfect way to close off his twenties he could ever dream of.
The soft lips tasted like soju and sweat and warmth of neon lights, and Sehyoon thought that perhaps, now, he truly had a home to return to, no matter where he would be headed in his life. And when Byeongkwan kissed back, pushed against him urgently - again, again, always - hands gripping the front of his T-shirt unwilling to let go now, kiss interrupted by a smile of hope for the tomorrow that was to come - he thought that it was not a perhaps, it was a definite.