Archive of Our Own

Doyum knew his members were attractive, it was practically a job requirement. But this came with side-effects. Shortly after debut, a string of agonising events led him to seeing Sangwoo in a completely different light. The first incident took place during the filming of their Studio Choom appearance. Following their ‘lethal’ concept, with the stylist’s choice to give them outfits of matching red satin and leather, each member felt pressured to place extra emphasis on their facial expressions while dancing. 

Byeonghee had encouraged them with a ‘Let’s become the first group to require a ‘nose-bleed’ warning on their performance videos!’ but after a few takes, the members had begun to grow tired. Stubborn beads of sweat clung to their faces, ruining their makeup. Their stylists all but wept as their aggressive choreography put the effort they’d spent on hair styling to waste. They wanted every performance to do justice to the countless hours spent practicing until dawn, to make up for everything they’d sacrificed. So after a short cool-down, they all returned to their places, agreeing to finish up with one flawless final take.

Doyum began as center, with fierce expressions and fiery eyes. Each member put their all into executing the choreography with charm and power. Growing confident with their synchronisation in this take, their fatigue was replaced with thrill. When they performed like this, it felt like they were moving as one. Doyum commanded the members with his center move, swaying his arms side to side, as the billowing of the satin shirts contributed to the smooth look of their choreography. Limji’s charisma overflowed as he gestured a ‘come here’ to the camera, and passion burned in their chests, lighting up their eyes. Everything was perfect, and the song reached its bridge. 

The feeling of performing in a group was akin to being taken over by a spirit. As they danced as one, all thoughts and worries left their minds, and they fell into a zone of deep concentration. In that state, it wasn’t unusual to get so immersed that you forget those around you are living, breathing beings. In fact, it was difficult to break out of that state of mind before the shout of ‘Cut!’

They’d practiced, polished, and performed ‘Damage’ countless times, and the choreography had long become a second nature to them all. So it was a first when Doyum’s immersion was broken by none other than Sangwoo. With his disheveled black hair, exposed chest dripping with sweat, and a silver necklace clasped between his teeth, Sangwoo met Doyum’s eyes during the opposing strides of ‘Come to me, come to me, tell me why,’ and winked. Snapping out of his trance, Doyum lost his concentration and stumbled slightly on the next move, but quickly recovered to catch up with the members working so hard by his side. So taken aback at the boy’s raw facial expression, Doyum endured the dull ache in his chest until the end of the choreography, determined to make this take the last so they could all rest. Chest pains weren’t rare for him, and he often felt it burn when he’d overworked himself. 

After Bain’s hand movements stirred up a ripple of waves through the members’ shoulders, Doyum took over as center, reaching his hand out to the camera and elegantly falling to his knees. Preparing for the final move, each member crawled backwards to join together in the center. In close proximity, Doyum’s hands brushed against Sangwoo’s, who had over-predicted the space around him and stretched his arms too far. Of course, this was just a simple mistake, so neither showed a visible reaction, finishing the performance with ease. For the final move, the members turned to the camera, gazes piercing through the lens as they suppressed their heaving chests. The lights dimmed and a few seconds later, they heard that gratifying ‘Cut!’ from the director of filming. The members cheered, and stood up shakily as the fatigue flooded back. 

The burning in their chests was shared, but Doyum couldn’t shake the tingling feeling from his hand, as if a lingering impression remained. For some reason, he felt the same gut feeling as he often did when he sensed something would soon go wrong. Fortunately, this soon became an afterthought, something he’d brush off until later, as their manager relayed the announcement that they were now free to change out of their sweltering outfits and order dinner. Filming had wrapped up, but something else was beginning to unfold.

x

Something in the air had shifted, and so returned the dread from earlier.

The second incident contributing to Doyum’s crisis had occurred after dinner that day. Exhausted, they’d all hopped into the van, more than eager to head back to the dorms for some rest. Byeonghee and Chuji were asleep in an instant, but Geonu had asked for a copy of each take, and was monitoring their performances on his phone screen. Limji sat next to him, looking blankly out the window. The traffic was moving slowly in the evening congestion, and it left them stranded on a long bridge, with the only redeeming factor being the beautiful view of the setting sun. At the back of the van sat Doyum, next to Sangwoo who’d insisted the back seat was the most spacious, and therefore best suited for the nap he planned on taking. His insides once again twisting with nerves of a source unknown, Doyum had also opted to sit in the back, as the seat between them gave him space to breathe. (And, if necessary, vomit.)

Feeling as if he was on a plane about to take off, Doyum closed his eyes and put his playlist on shuffle. A nostalgic song from the 90s began to play, and at some point, lulled him into dreamland. Dozing off, the old tune played on repeat in his ears.

You stare into the distance,

 though I’m right here

If you turned your head just slightly

you would see me

At first, I didn’t mind it like this

As long as I could see you

But with this endless waiting,

it seems I’m growing tired

One step behind

is where I’ve always been

Will you ever look back 

and see me there?

(인형의 꿈 - 일기예보)

Draped in the pink glow of the sunset, Doyum fell into a peaceful sleep, and the other members enjoyed the rejuvenating silent time in their own ways. 

As it turned out, Doyum’s nerves from earlier had not been unfounded. He soon found himself jolted awake by the sudden impact of their company van with a car in front. The fear sent their hearts racing as any view of the accident was blocked by the divider curtain partitioning the van’s front end. Whilst the older members stirred, there was nothing but silence from Doyum’s end as a warm hand suddenly clasped around his own. He turned his head to his left, checking if Sangwoo was injured from the accident. 

When his eyes met those of Sangwoo’s, the image of an innocent deer came to mind. Eyelids puffy from his nap, he wasn’t alert enough to speak, yet his hands had naturally sought comfort from the boy next to him. After peeling his eyes away from Sangwoo’s, Doyum noticed a small wound forming upon the boy’s left cheekbone, and instinctively snatched his hand away to brush a careful thumb over the blemish. Worry bubbling in his chest, Doyum decided to open his mouth.

‘Guys, I think Sangwoo is injured! It wouldn’t be a concussion, right?’ Doyum’s outburst caused the members in front to turn their heads in unison. 

Limji rushedly rummaged around for a first-aid kit, whilst Doyum cradled his hands around Sangwoo’s face, gently guiding his head until it was no longer leaning to one side. Their promotions had only just started, and he didn’t want to risk Sangwoo having to sit out because of a neck injury. Sangwoo had always been a deep sleeper, but it amazed him that he could remain sleepy during something like this. A moment after Doyum heard the click of the first-aid kit being opened, he was handed a band-aid by their leader. Geonu had dialed the company and was waiting for a response, whilst Byeonghee and Chuji looked out the window to gauge the situation unfolding outside of the van. A bridge was the last place you’d want a pile up to happen.

After a moment of struggling, Doyum peeled off the band-aid’s wrapper with shaking hands and began to apply it to Sangwoo’s cheekbone. He was so deep in concentration that he didn’t notice their proximity, until the younger boy broke his silence, mumbling quietly.

‘Doyum-ah… Are you okay?’ Sangwoo looked into Doyum’s concern-filled eyes, his words slurred with fatigue. 

Something stirred in his chest, and he pulled his hands away from Sangwoo’s face as if he’d been burnt. 

‘Everything’s fine, just go back to sleep.’ For some reason, Doyum felt embarrassed, as if he’d been caught. Doing what? He had no idea.

As a member, his duty was to look after his other members as if they were brothers. He glanced over at the members seated in front of him. Byeonghee and Chuji, who he could always joke around with. Geonu and Limji, who he could always approach for advice. They were like older brothers to him. But the boy seated next to him felt somehow different. To Doyum, rather than being someone to rely on, Sangwoo felt like someone he wanted to protect, something he never felt with the older members. At the same time, he enjoyed it when Sangwoo looked after him as if he was younger. Having to look up to meet his eyes, having his ears and neck played with whenever Sangwoo was bored. He couldn’t fit him into a mold. They were the same age, so Sangwoo was neither an older or younger brother. Without a role to assign him to, Doyum was left confused by his feelings. Shame washed over him at the thought that he had been babying the other boy, applying a band-aid on his face as if he couldn’t do it himself. It was something the older members could have done, sure, but there was no reason for Doyum to feel that instinct.

Was it just a brotherly act? He could have simply woken him up properly and told him to sort out his bleeding face himself. Gulping, he looked around to check that none of the members were looking at him. As expected, he was over-reacting, and the other members would have done the same in his situation. No one was looking at him, but instead, their eyes were fixed on Geonu, who had finally received word from the company’s end of the call. As the driver’s car door slammed shut, Geonu announced to the members that due to the accident, they would be staying in a close-by, temporary accommodation tonight.

After starting the engine back up, the driver navigated their van over to the emergency lane, and Doyum looked out the window, admiring the now non-obstructed view of the lake. The glow of the sunset had long ago been swallowed into the ocean, and was now replaced by a dim moonlight that shone on Sangwoo’s peaceful face. For a moment, his gaze was tugged back to Sangwoo. He was right, the backseat is the most spacious. Strangely, he wished it wasn’t.

He recalled the way Sangwoo’s hands had reached for his earlier. How close their faces had been when he applied the band-aid. Sangwoo’s charming doe-like eyes. Doyum knew his members were attractive, but this was on another level. 

If he’d never let go of Sangwoo’s hand, would he still be holding it right now? 

Instantly, the nausea from earlier returned to Doyum’s stomach, and he pushed away the thought that there might be a pattern to its appearance. He was just nervous because of the accident, but they were all safe now. As they passed the still lake, and reached the bright, bustling city, Doyum returned the earphones to his ears. Joining the other members in slumber, he sought a temporary escape from the countless question marks filling his head.

x

Luckily for them, the accident served as a small miracle. For a few days, their schedule was delayed as their trusty company van received repairs. They stayed in a nearby accommodation, equipped with video game consoles and plush beds, and were able to rest for a few days. Left to their own devices, the members helped themselves to the contents of the AirBNB’s fridge, a level of luxury that felt worlds away from their dorm life. Situated an hour away, their dorm was, well, comfortable. Not the rich, ‘Oh no, we’re just comfortable,’ type of comfortable, but the small, often suffocating, type of comfortable. It was a nice way of saying that their dorm was more suitable for two people to live in. And their dog. 

Doyum’s room was probably built with that dog in mind. (Or maybe it was just in serious need of a Konmari style decluttering.)

Being an emergency living situation, their temporary accommodation was missing one important thing. With just three rooms, the members were forced to give up their freedom and share a room — luckily quite spacious — with a member of choice. Doyum took a look around as they sat in a circle on the insulated floor. Limji, seriously loud snorer. Geonu, insomniac. Chuji, blanket hogger. Byeonghee, clingy, and he kicked in his sleep. That option was immediately ruled out as he recalled the time when Byeonghee had kicked him off the bed in his sleep, back when they were trainees sharing cage-sized rooms. That left Sangwoo, whose sleeping habits Doyum couldn’t say he knew. As the members naturally paired up, Doyum was left to take that gamble. Limji and Geonu, unsurprisingly, paired together first and set off to choose a room. Byeonghee and Chuji, two peas in a pesky pod, raced past them to get first pick. Sangwoo stared blankly at Doyum, waiting on his consensus. 

‘Are you alright with sharing a room? I don’t mind sleeping on the floor if you’re uncomfortable.’ Doyum spoke shyly, something about Sangwoo’s unwavering eye contact making him feel like an inconvenience.

Sangwoo broke his gaze and stood up before talking.

‘You don’t have to do that. It’s far too cold.’

He headed down the corridor, and Doyum followed behind without a choice.

x

That night, Doyum fell asleep with goosebumps lining his arms. He’d discovered Sangwoo’s sleeping habit. 

Sangwoo had drifted off with ease. Ignorant to the world around him, he’d fallen asleep with lips parted, his body facing the boy next to him. As his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Doyum was confronted with the image of the boy in front of him. His high cheekbones, thin lips, and sharp jawline resembled that of a Greek statue more than an ordinary boy from Jeju Island. He was reminded of what Sangwoo had said as they settled into the spacious, yet unfamiliarly cold, double bed. 

‘Thanks for earlier,’ he had said, gesturing to the band-aid on his cheek, ‘I don’t know why I was so out of it.’

Doyum, in the middle of folding the sheets up to the pillows to seal out the cold, had frozen. Had Sangwoo not been asleep when he applied the band-aid? He was sure that the boy had grabbed his hand subconsciously, still in a state of slumber. But no, he had just been ‘out of it.’ So, Doyum had been caught. 

‘No problem,’ he had said, hoping his voice covered the thumping of his heart. He remembered how close his face had been to the boy mere hours before. Sangwoo had been aware of it all, yet he hadn’t moved away. 

Doyum’s eyes travelled over the boy’s face. Whilst tracing over the dim scene in front of him; black hair hanging in his eyes, the band-aid that had been so delicately stuck to his cheekbone, his soft-looking lips, and his chest, rising and falling rhymically, Doyum couldn’t pick out any bad sleeping habits. As expected, he was nice company, more considerate than the others. 

Unable to fall asleep, he turned to his thoughts, struggling to understand his relationship with Sangwoo. They were friends, yet he felt an undeniable sense of distance between them. Lines that could be crossed in any regular friendship felt like forbidden territory for them. With Sangwoo, Doyum felt something that he never felt with the others. Shame. Despite treating him the same way as the older members did, he felt guilty and second-guessed his every action. An enigma. Doyum closed his eyes, refusing to be tormented any longer by the image of the sleeping boy beside him. 

He kept his eyes shut, even when he heard Sangwoo begin to stir. A rustle of blankets, and suddenly Doyum could feel a hand brushing at the nape of his neck. Scared at the possibility of making eye contact, he didn’t dare open his eyes to check if the boy was fully awake or not. He’d forgotten about this habit of Sangwoo’s. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

Quite often, Sangwoo’s hand found its way to a group member's ears or neck to give or seek comfort. Doyum controlled his breathing as Sangwoo’s fingers tugged at the ends of his mullet, something he was planning to cut for the next comeback.

‘Don’t cut your hair, I like it like this,’ Sangwoo whispered. 

Unresponsive, Doyum remained still, and at some point, Sangwoo’s hand ceased its fidgeting, resting upon his neck. Meekly, the older boy opened his eyes slightly, and confirmed Sangwoo had fallen asleep. At some point, he’d moved closer, to the extent that Doyum could feel his calm breaths fanning out. After swallowing nervously, he whispered.

‘You should say these kind of things to my face…’

Feeling the boy’s hand on his neck, Sangwoo’s warmth transferring and mixing with his own, Doyum’s stomach twisted into knots. He was warm — so warm — but the confusion and fear he was feeling today caused goosebumps to bloom across his arms. If Doyum was to perform at his best during their first ever group promotions, he needed to rid himself of this growing nausea. Beginning to see the common denominator in these feelings, he could only think of one thing to do. After tonight, he’d distance himself as much as possible, until he felt himself again.

x

Months later, and the members had noticed Doyum’s overall change in attitude. Steering clear of his usual affection, he communicated through short answers and seldom held eye contact. Even Byeonghee’s shenanigans brought little reaction. His condition had grown worse over time, and the members walked on eggshells around him. With their friend acting out of sorts; constantly sick, drained, and feeling guilty for bringing the group down, it was time for an intervention.

It was September, and they were practicing the choreography for their first comeback. The clock indicated it was almost dawn, and Limji suggested they call it a night and return home. Unsatisfied with his performance, having been unable to focus like usual, Doyum insisted on staying behind to practice alone. Being alone with his thoughts was at least better than coping with the worries that developed exponentially with the presence of someone who made his feelings go haywire. He’d quickly realised the source of his feelings, and did his best to avoid the boy that caused them. Even the smallest contact, like brushing past him in the hallway, sent electricity racing up his spine, making him flinch. Doyum couldn’t risk looking suspicious to the members, or worse, his feelings being exposed. He tried his best to push them down, but having no one to talk to about these bottled up emotions left him feeling isolated and listless. 

The members filtered out of the practice room one by one, hesitating on whether to protest Doyum’s decision. No matter how they looked at it, it seemed that Doyum was struggling alone. He wanted to be left alone, but no one could be sure if that was the best option. It was unusual for him not to approach Limji or Geonu with his worries, so they decided to send in someone closest with his standpoint, their youngest. In the hallway outside of the practice room, they whispered to Sangwoo, pleading for him to confront Doyum and discover what was wrong. Sangwoo didn’t want to admit it, but he knew Doyum’s attitude had changed, to an extent, because of him. What he’d done wrong, however, he couldn’t place. He gestured for the members to go back to the dorm, with a nod and an I’ll take care of this look. Gulping, his hand wrapped around the door knob and he re-entered to find Doyum sitting cross-legged, staring blankly at the floor. Even as the door creaked open, he stayed still.

‘Are you angry at me?’ Sangwoo bit the bullet, walking over to him. 

Hearing no response, he placed a hand on Doyum’s shoulder. When the boy recoiled from his touch, Sangwoo noticed the earphones in his ears. He hadn’t heard him. After pausing his music, he addressed Sangwoo harshly.

‘God, what is it? I said I wanted to practice alone.’ Doyum met the eyes of the boy towering over him, just to cast a hurtful glare. 

‘I said, are you angry with me? Everyone wants to know why you’re acting like this.’ Sangwoo hoped his words weren’t falling on deaf ears. 

He sat down facing Doyum, propping his arms out behind him to lean back. The air between them was suffocatingly tense. With no reply, Sangwoo was forced to test the waters himself. Again, he reached his hand out, resting it on the boy’s knee. Instantly, Doyum swatted it away. So this really is it, Doyum. No matter his mood, Doyum never seemed too sensitive about affection from the other members. He was never one to shy away from their touch, let alone reject it completely. As expected, Sangwoo was the problem. Doyum was at his lowest, and if this was his fault, he was going to work out why. As Doyum fiddled with his shoelaces, Sangwoo tried once more.

‘If it’s something I can fix, just say it.’

In all honesty, he thought it was selfish and childish for Doyum to give them the silent treatment like this. He was bringing down the atmosphere of every room he was in, and it was unfair to the other members, who had to try twice as hard to lighten up the mood. More than anything, they wanted him to return to normal. But whatever was bothering him was something he couldn’t even tell his closest friends.

‘You said you were done practicing for the night, why didn’t you leave with the others?’ Doyum snapped, looking up at the boy in front of him. 

He was left with no choice but to act cold, embarrassed to show such a pathetic side of himself. Left dumbfounded by his harsh treatment, Sangwoo just stared blankly. Doyum had nothing more to hear, and stood up to leave. With mere weeks left until their comeback, he’d just have to find someplace else to practice. 

Right, Sangwoo thought, our comeback is just weeks away. If he didn’t confront this problem now, he wasn’t confident their promotions would go smoothly. At this rate, Doyum was behind in learning the choreography, completely unlike him. Without one of their strongest dancers, they wouldn’t be able to perform as one.

‘Would things be better if I just left?’ Sangwoo asked. 

What exactly he meant by leave was clear.

‘No, of course not… It’s me who should…’ Doyum sighed. 

He was aware of how his behaviour had changed, how he was making the other members feel unwelcome, and awkward. Making them want to avoid him was his goal, even if this left them miserable. It was supposed to be a temporary solution, something he’d never imagined could have gotten this far.

‘Just tell me what’s wrong, Doyum. I get the feeling that it’s something I’ve done.’

Of course, it was true that Sangwoo had caused this, albeit unintentionally. But the fault was with Doyum, unable to separate his professional life with his private life. With Doyum wanting nothing more than to leave this situation, and Sangwoo wanting to reconcile as soon as possible, the two boys were left at odds. They were opposite poles, but perhaps this was why Doyum couldn’t stop being pulled to him. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this. As much as he told himself things were out of his control, he’d sealed this fate himself. 

Doyum stood up to leave, fighting the will to stay by Sangwoo’s side. It was risky, this being his first time alone with him in a long time. Unwillingly, he recalled the fantasies his mind had conjured about this moment. Just the two of them, alone in the practice room after the others had left. He would stay back, offering to help Doyum brush up on a move he was struggling with. With Sangwoo pressing against his body, Doyum would feel the outline of his abs and the heavy rise and fall of his chest, still breathing heavily from practice. As his fantasy progressed, Sangwoo would guide him, hands travelling down…

Doyum’s dangerous thoughts were cut off as Sangwoo frantically grabbed his hand like an anchor, grounding him in silent protest. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity to talk things out. As Sangwoo stood up, clinging to Doyum’s hand for support, the boy’s sweating palms caused him to lose his grip and land back on the hard ground. Feeling guilty, Doyum offered his hand to help him up, but instead, Sangwoo pulled the feather-light boy down with ease. Hands slipping when he propped his arms out to save his fall, Doyum found himself on top of Sangwoo, who simply looked up at him with disheveled hair and expectant eyes. As their chests brushed against each other’s, Sangwoo could feel Doyum’s heartbeat pounding unmistakably.

‘So this is what it was. I make you nervous, Doyum?’ Sangwoo’s eye contact was unrelenting. 

He’d found a lead. Doyum gulped, looking down at the lips of the boy beneath him. Lost for words, that was his way of answering. Sangwoo’s eyes flickered down in imitation, and were met with the scene of Doyum licking his lips. What was he thinking about right now? First to realise how the situation looked, Doyum cleared his throat and unmounted the boy in an instant. Sangwoo had never seen him more flustered, cheeks red and eyes darting. And so, he had his answer. As Doyum frantically gathered his belongings and fled, Sangwoo decided not to chase him. 

If Geonu asked what happened, Sangwoo wasn’t sure he’d know what to say. Realising why Doyum had been suffering alone with his problem, Sangwoo’s chest ached. For now, he would keep his secret. 

x

With their comeback promotions intersecting with Halloween, the group had been invited to film various Halloween content for Mnet’s YouTube channel. First, the exciting opportunity of an M Countdown Halloween special stage. Under the concept of ‘vampire,’ they performed Tick Tock with a twist, sporting velvet waistcoats upon blood-covered suits and billowing capes. The choreography had been altered, with a chilling church organ playing as they took their places onto the stage. The screens behind them displayed a castle silhouette, crows circling above. After putting on a lethal performance, they were scheduled to film some variety content. Whilst cooling down in their waiting room, the members downed water and closed their eyes, listening to the sound of the other performances that permeated through the walls.

Geonu eyed Doyum curiously. Since their comeback, he’d been performing well, putting his all into every performance. Like whatever was weighing him down had been lifted slightly. So Sangwoo had spoken to him after all, he thought. He smiled briefly, and took his phone out to take some mirror selfies, leaning seductively against the wall. Reminded of Byeonghee’s words months earlier, he smugly captioned his post as the following:

[Nose bleed warning 🚨]

Only B, avoid me for your safety!

I’m craving blood today… 🩸🧛

#JUSTB #저스트비

As the members lounged unsuspectingly in the waiting room, they had no idea that filming had already started. Above them, the ceiling lights flickered weakly before shrouding them in complete darkness. A pitch-altered voice sounded out, providing to their only capable sense as their eyes struggled to adapt to their surroundings.

‘Starting now, you will be transported to a House of Horrors, where a life-or-death game will determine your fate. Will you escape successfully, or fall victim to the vengeful spirits of the mansion?’

As captured by the night-vision cameras, masked men ‘blindfolded’ the members and escorted them out of their waiting room. They ramped up their reactions for the camera, all faking cries of protest, whilst Byeonghee went the extra mile, badly pretending to sob in fear, crying out ‘Mom!’ His acting may have been terrible, but there was always hope for success in the comedy industry. 

When they reached the hallway, the masked men led the way to the ‘House of Horrors.’ Upon entering the filming set, they were greeted with a well-decorated interview set-up. A tapestry hung behind six stools, displaying a scene of grimacing Jack-O-Lanterns under an orange sky. Paired with the spooky background music and the masked men that never once broke character, the atmosphere was a tad scary. That Mnet budget, Doyum thought to himself. 

The six boys sat in their seats, awaiting further instruction. Having been caught off guard whilst resting, they took the time to adjust their costumes. Loosened ties were tightened, and white shirts were tucked back in. Limji restored the strategically placed hair strand that hung perfectly between his middle-parted hair. Behind the cameras, a staff member pressed play on their computer, and the deep, pitch-altered voice returned to describe the game they’d be playing. 

‘For those who find themselves in the House of Horrors, take note. Half severed from this world, the spirits lack their vision. All that remains is their hearing, stronger than that of any human. Whilst you can hide your thoughts, your heart does not lie. Fear will be your undoing, if you let them get to your head. For this game, you are to keep your heartbeat under 100 BPM, whilst faced with various temptations. As the spirits take the form of your members, you must not be deceived.’

The members looked at each other with curiosity. A pause, and the woman’s voice continued on. 

‘You must sacrifice one member to enter the House of Horrors. Upon hearing the words ‘Trick or Treat,’ each member will have one minute to charm the appointed member. The grand prize for this game is a Hanwoo beef set, and the punishment will be revealed when the game ends. If the spirits fail, the appointed member becomes the sole winner. Choose wisely.’

Limji spoke up first, asking whether they should appoint through rock, paper, scissors. It was the way they decided everything, even their room allocation. But the words ‘choose wisely’ remained in their heads, and they opted to discussing which member was the most, and the least, likely to remain unbothered. Naturally, their eyes went back and forth between Sangwoo and Doyum. When Geonu whispered his suggestion that they go with Doyum, it seemed like the right choice. They’d all noticed how he seldom reacted to their jokes anymore, with even Chuji’s slapstick comedy failing to make the cut. If they appointed him, he would definitely win. At the same time, it would be no fun if they appointed someone who would lose immediately. Being a rookie group, they needed to make each appearance entertaining, and take the most screen time they could get. It took them one second to realise that every member but Doyum would probably be riled up immediately by however they decided to torment him. Sangwoo spoke up, saying it was smartest for them to choose someone challenging. 

And so, it was decided. Doyum was set on winning that beef set for himself, but the members insisted they would break him down, or at least, have fun trying. 

As they sat in their stools, about to start, Byeonghee gave them words of motivation.

‘It’s a win-win situation. Either we get lots of beef, or lots of screen time!’

Smiling, Geonu added, ‘I think you mean scream time.’

x

Before they began the game, a staff member came over to secure a smartwatch around Doyum’s wrist. Nervously, he sat about a metre away from the ‘spirits,’ where the space between them would be used as the ‘stage.’ He was sure he could get through this, but perhaps Byeonghee having potential for success in the comedy industry was not helpful for his chances. 

The staff member double-checked that the watch was working before the cameras began rolling. Being an hour since they’d performed, Doyum’s heart rate was displayed as eighty beats per minute in his current state. All set to go, the cameraman gave them a thumbs up to indicate they were ready to start filming. Out of the camera’s view, a TV hanging on the wall displayed a one minute timer. As the game’s instructions would be edited into the video, they got straight into the game.

Once they decided the order the ‘spirits’ would go in, the one minute timer began. Doyum gained confidence as the first member to take the stage elicited no reaction from him. A complete contrast to his vampire costume, Limji was dancing to the Baby Shark Trap Remix, throwing in winks when he failed to receive a reaction. Eyes flickering back to the timer that now displayed 0:10, he gave up on his choreography and as a last resort, squished Doyum’s cheeks along with a display of sad puppy eyes. Doyum rolled his eyes in response, and smugly lifted his arm to display the watch screen as the timer went off. 85 BPM. Jimin sighed and returned to his seat. 

The comments would later read: 

‘You can tell Jimin was waiting for this moment, he’s had that dance memorised for so long...’ 

‘ㅈㄴ 잘 췄는뎈ㅋ? 난 원래 아기상어팬인데 입덕할까 생각중…’

‘If I was Doyum, I would have given myself up to that spirit...’

Next to attempt was Geonu. What he had up his sleeve was, of course, predictable. Standing in front of the boy, he put his hands on his hips and pouted.

‘Doyum, I can’t believe Jimin’s dance didn’t win you over. My spirits are down.’ Geonu stomped his foot, letting out a childish ‘hmph!’

Doyum stifled a laugh, but immediately thought of the meat. Eyes on the prize, he pantomimed pulling the smile out of his face. Finally, the spirit team had their first taste of hope, a taste that they hoped would lead to one of Hanwoo beef. For the remaining 40 seconds, Geonu continued with his wordplay. 

‘I overheard something from the staff the other day. They said you’d submitted lyrics for the comeback, but they couldn’t accept it. Because you hired a ghostwriter!’ Geonu immediately burst out in laughter at his own wit, and Doyum inhaled deeply. 

Barely remaining calm, Doyum conjured the image of the Bulgogi he would make if he won. This wasn’t a Try Not to Laugh Challenge, but he knew that if he let himself laugh, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

‘I thought the spirits only had ears, who let them talk?’ Doyum double-checked with the staff that Geonu wasn’t breaking any rules, buying him some time from the next attack as his watch now displayed 90 BPM. Ten seconds left.

‘Just know I’m only letting you win because the timer is promoting Tick Tock.’ Geonu returned back to his seat, leaving a mental note to himself to work on his pun skills, or lack thereof.

After the two failures, spirit team were starting to lose spirit. Hurriedly, Chuji thought of something to cause a reaction from Doyum as his turn approached. If dance and comedy hadn’t worked, how about rap? Praising his genius, Chuji took position and began to rap. Loner by Outsider. 

‘Is there anyone who can heal my wounds?

They only get worse as I let them be

So scared of people and love

Scared I’ll be forgotten, scared to be alone’

Along with dramatic gestures, including wailing to the heavens like a Sims character, Chuji added a storyline to his rendition of one of the fastest raps he knew. Of course, with the time limit, he soon had to skip to the killing part. At the rapid-fire rap, Chuji purposefully stumbled over his words, trying to get a reaction from Doyum with his performance. His concept was a heartbroken man, sharing his tragic story in full seriousness whilst ignoring the way he tripped over the lyrics. As expected, Doyum simply covered his growing smile with his hand, shaking his head in disbelief at the lengths his members were going to win this game. Exposed to their shenanigans for so long, it was going to take more than this to make his heart react. The timer went off as Chuji caught his breath after the rap, spat out like bullets missing their target.

‘God, you’re a tough one to please,’ Chuji complained as he dragged himself back to the stool. 

He gave Byeonghee a pat on the back, wishing him good luck. If Byeonghee couldn’t win this for them, nobody could. 

x

Byeonghee got into position with his back facing Doyum. After a dramatic countdown, he began to sing the intro of ‘Sister’s Dream’ by Hyun-young, turning around with a jump on the last ‘ha!’

‘Maiya-hee, maiya-hoo, maiya-ho, maiya-ha-ha!’

After he finished singing the unmistakable intro, Byeonghee skipped straight to the chorus, making up his own choreography as he went along. It looked suspiciously similar to Celeb Five’s I Wanna Be a Celeb. He puckered his lips, sending blowing kisses to his audience, who cheered enthusiastically. So caught up in Byeonghee’s performance, his loud vocals drowning out the ticking of the timer, the spirit team almost forgot about the game. In fact, they wanted Doyum to win so they could laugh for a little longer. This was one for the Just B history books. 

Accompanied half with stolen moves, and moves straight out of a Zumba dance workout, Byeonghee sang:

‘Call me, touch me, 

Noona, Noona-ye, 

Noona, Noona’s heart is full of love for you~

Age is just a number,

Hold me, kiss me, 

Noona, Noona-ye, Noona, Noona-ye~’

He galloped around in circles before moving uncomfortably close to Doyum’s face, using the remaining twenty seconds to act as cute as possible. Pulling out all his tricks, Byeonghee performed 3 set aegyo, classic lines like ‘I had a bad dream about a ghost!’, and various ‘hmphs!’ inspired by Geonu’s display earlier. Doyum chewed on his tongue, clearly on the verge of laughter. But once again, that Hanwoo beef set entered his sight. 

‘Endure for just a little longer,’ he told himself. 

Soon after, Byeonghee’s time had run out. Immediately after this, the number on Doyum’s watch shot up to 102, as he lost his mind laughing. Something that felt like cheating but wasn’t.

The deep voice filled their ears with a final warning.

‘Spirits, you have one last chance to take Doyum’s soul. If you fail to do so, you will remain trapped in this realm forever. If you wish to regain your sight, rethink your approaches. I recommend you make use of this final minute.’

The spirit team exchanged worried glances. With Byeonghee down, what could Sangwoo possibly do to bring them a win? Their shyest member against their quietest; it seemed like it would only end in a stalemate. 

Doyum gulped, knowing he was entering dangerous territory. Just how would it look if Sangwoo made his heart race by doing nothing? Perhaps he should have given up during Byeonghee’s turn. Geonu gave a weak smile to Sangwoo as the youngest stood up to the task. 

If Doyum was a vampire, it would have been far more fitting if Sangwoo had dressed as a wooden stake. A life-sized garlic would have worked too, he thought. Doyum promptly erased the mental images from his head as the countdown began.

If comedy wasn’t working — not that Sangwoo would have been able to win through it anyway — he needed to take that 'different approach' to make his attempt something other than a complete embarrassment. Sure, he was introverted, but he was obligated to at least try in these kinds of games. He gave an assuring look to the members on his team and made his way to Doyum.

x

Following the other members’ leads, he started out with a dance. Rather than something funny, he took his different approach with Kai’s ‘Mmmh’ choreography. Dancing was in his comfort zone, something that didn’t need words or wit. Confident in his dancing, Sangwoo didn’t shy away from eye contact with Doyum, who simply admired his performance. From his seat, Geonu’s eyes flickered down to the watch’s display, staying silent as he saw the number rise to 95 BPM. A smug smile took over his face, pleased at the thought of enjoying some premium beef that night. Our secret weapon after all.

Dangerously close, yet still far, the spirit team held their breaths as Sangwoo’s performance of Mmmh’s lethal chorus came to its close. With half his time gone and chances looking slim, Sangwoo took things further. He was a (temporary) vampire, yet he possessed little knowledge of the human heart. In a badly conceived attempt to cut off Doyum’s blood circulation, therefore increasing his heart rate, he squeezed the boy’s wrists tightly. With a confused look, Doyum accepted the touch, but the only visible effect of Sangwoo’s plan was the sudden definition of the boy’s arm veins. Sangwoo cleared his throat, letting go as the number on the watch remained high, yet steady.

Shit, 20 seconds, Sangwoo thought.

One time I’m sure I made Doyum’s heart race. That night after practice, when we...

‘Sangwoo, fifteen seconds left!’ Chuji shouted urgently.

Fuck it.

Sangwoo sat on Doyum’s lap, looking into his eyes with an expression that could no longer be described as doe-eyed. In fact, Doyum felt like prey. He shifted nervously beneath Sangwoo, feeling like a million eyes were watching. 98 BPM.

Sangwoo took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around Doyum’s neck. Not knowing what Sangwoo was planning, Doyum’s eyes momentarily travelled to his lips, and as if aware of his fears, the boy shook his head in assurance. Don’t worry. The members grew restless in their seats as the timer silently counted down the final ten seconds. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock. After this, Doyum would never see their song title in the same way again.

Without hesitation, Sangwoo plunged his fake (yet realistically sharp) fangs into Doyum’s neck. The studio was submerged in silence as the members watched the scene unfolding in front of them with shock. Just one second before the minute ended, the unmistakable sound of Doyum’s watch cut through the tense silence. 120 BPM.

‘Spirit team wins.’

The members exploded into cheer, with Limji offering Sangwoo a piggy-back as they rode the high of their success against all odds. It was a miracle win, all for some beef. Doyum sat stunned, both confused and humiliated at what had just happened. Firstly, his brain was not processing that Sangwoo had done that. Put his arms around Doyum and bit his neck. Secondly, that Sangwoo had most likely revealed his feelings to the whole Internet. Thirdly, that he’d played with his feelings just for some beef. 

And the final stab (or stake) to the heart? The fact that despite everything Doyum had suffered, that beef set was not his. What ever happened to trauma compensation?

x

On the drive home, Doyum sat as far away from Sangwoo as possible. Noticing the situation, Geonu shot Doyum concerned looks, but none of them were met with any reaction. In Doyum’s eyes, Geonu was as much responsible for this as the others. But even Geonu felt that Sangwoo had overstepped a boundary. The others, rowdy in the atmosphere of success, couldn’t stop rambling about the game. Byeonghee held the beef set tight to his chest, as if threatened by Doyum’s seething glare. Talkative even more than usual, they bantered at the expense of Doyum, and suddenly walking home didn’t seem like a bad idea.

‘Y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that Doyum actually liked-,’ Chuji was cut off with a strong elbow to the side.

‘I had an idea that we change our name to Just Bros for our next comeback. What do you think, Sangwoo?’ Geonu changed the subject, giving a dirty look to Chuji. One that said ‘Read the room.’ Or perhaps it was ‘Read the van.’

Somehow, Chuji and Byeonghee seemed immune to negative emotions. Geonu shared a nervous glance with Limji. Throughout all of this, Sangwoo remained silent, stung by the tension. He wanted to be happy about winning the game and getting the group extra screen time, but he felt like he’d betrayed Doyum. Suddenly, the vampire costume felt itchy, and he just wanted to go home.

x

That night, the members gladly exchanged the stuffy Halloween costumes for comfortable hoodies and pyjama pants. Shortly after debut, Limji had won an online giveaway for a 6-pair set of plaid pyjamas, and had gifted them amongst the members as a congratulatory present. They’d quickly grown close as a group, and their dorm felt more like a group of friends than a cohabitation of coworkers. They shared so much that they often lost their belongings in others’ rooms, in some cases arguing over whose belongings were whose. Despite these minor quarrels, the dorm’s atmosphere remained warm and amicable. 

Most of the time.

As Doyum lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, he’d never felt so cold. A kaleidoscope of feelings rotated inside him, constantly changing appearance. At first, he felt alone and humiliated. His members had used him for a game, and hadn’t bothered to make amends after it. Sure, Geonu had given him regretful looks, but nothing was equivalent to an outright apology. As the darkness swallowed him, he started to replay the night’s happenings in his head. So caught up in thinking about how he’d felt in relation to those around him, he hadn’t even thought about the event in isolation. Doyum replayed the moment in his head, stomach flipping as he recalled how Sangwoo had looked into his eyes with intent. The warmth of Sangwoo sitting on his lap, arms around his neck. How his lips were separated and inviting, and so, so close. He hated that he wanted Sangwoo to do it again, only with no one else around.

He shot up at the sound of his door opening, quickly turning his bedside lamp on. Turning his room’s light on wasn’t worth the risk; the members would only jump to conclusions if they saw how flushed his cheeks were. Conclusions that would likely have been correct, but they didn’t need to know that. 

In his doorway, the light from outside defining his silhouette like that of an angel’s entrance, was an apologetic Sangwoo. 

Just what he needed.

Sangwoo cleared his throat before saying, ‘I came to apologise, and explain some things.’

Closing the door behind him, Sangwoo approached Doyum. He angled his head, looking down to meet his eyes. Rightfully, he knew he deserved the silent treatment, but after a long talk with Geonu, he’d come to the conclusion that confronting whatever was going on was the best decision for the group. As uncomfortable as confrontation was, having this unresolved tension plague them for even longer would likely have driven them to the edge.

‘What is there to explain? You threw me under the bus for some content. It was funny, Sangwoo, you don’t need to apologise. I get it.’ His words stung, but they weren’t the full truth.

‘You don’t understand. I had to make sure I wasn’t picked, so I spoke with Geonu before the game-.’ Sangwoo sighed, beating around the bush. Doyum cut off Sangwoo’s words before he could hear the full story, bubbling with anger.

‘That’s how badly you wanted to win? You knew the choice was between us, so you exploited my feelings just to win?’ In the wind of his rage, his hands grabbed Sangwoo’s collar, trying to provoke him. 

Putting his feelings aside, Doyum just wanted to take his anger out on the boy even before he’d heard the excuse he made for putting him through such embarrassment. Not thinking straight, Doyum’s brain had already concluded that Sangwoo was going to justify himself with some pathetic claim that it was for ‘screen time’ or ‘promotion.’ You know I’m quiet, Doyum.

‘Doyum, you’re misunderstanding me, just shut up for a fucking second so I can-’ Sangwoo raised his voice for the first time, but was interrupted by a voice even louder.

From the hallway, Byeonghee knocked loudly on Doyum’s door, his voice close to breaking the sound barrier. Every day in their dorm, the probability of a mass glass-shattering incident rose.

‘Doyum, I left my charger in your room! I hope you’re not naked, because I’m coming in!’

The two boys froze, unaware if their argument had been heard or not. The last thing they wanted was for Byeonghee to catch onto the situation between them. After that, word would spread like wildfire. Outside of their dorm room, a swift Geonu stopped Byeonghee’s doorknob-bound hand in its tracks.

Unaware of this, the two boys braced the boisterous entrance of their resident frequency generator. With no time to hide him anywhere else, Doyum instinctively pushed Sangwoo against the wall beside the door, the room’s only blind spot. Holding their breaths as they waited for the doorknob to turn, they stood chest to chest. But after ten seconds of silence, there was still no sign of movement. 

Was Byeonghee still there?

When he was sure they’d been let off the hook, Doyum was first to release his bated breath. Byeonghee was easily distracted, after all. Or maybe Doyum’s guardian angel had decided to save him from further embarrassment today. The fear passed, but Sangwoo remained frozen. The moment Doyum noticed this, reality hit him like a brick. He was still pressing Sangwoo against the wall. Greedily, his gaze flickered down to Sangwoo’s lips. Get ahold of yourself, Doyum. He cleared his throat and backed away, shaking his head in silent apology.

‘Will you let me explain now?’ Sangwoo spoke calmly, without a hint of his previous anger. 

Doyum nodded, all ears.

‘All that I told Geonu at the time was to make sure I wasn’t chosen. When we got home today, I went straight to his room and told him everything. I had to tell someone, or I was going to lose my mind.’ Sangwoo sighed, speaking as if he’d surrendered to something. As Doyum waited patiently for clarification, he continued. 

‘When I heard what the game was, I just knew I wouldn’t… I couldn’t do it,’ Sangwoo broke eye contact before adding, ‘Because if it was me, I wouldn’t last a second at the sight of you.’

‘I promise, I thought one of the other members would make you lose, so I went last. But Doyum, you made it til the end. I never considered that, still… I’m sorry.’ Finally, Sangwoo finished his explanation. Feeling half relief and half fear, he searched for an answer in Doyum’s face.

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ The words that left Doyum’s mouth were laced with hurt, feeling as if this was all some hidden camera prank. Because his day was the gift that kept giving. 

For once, he didn’t feel the urge to protect Sangwoo. Looking up at him, Doyum felt so small. Scared to face the world after that video, scared for his future, and scared of his feelings, he wished someone would be the one to comfort him. Sangwoo gathered his thoughts, speaking up.

‘I was naive. I thought that if I didn’t say anything, or act on anything, it’d go away,’ Sangwoo’s voice dripped with guilt. It was obvious what it was.

‘And Doyum, you thought the same too, right?’

At that moment, Doyum understood. He couldn’t hate the boy in front of him for what he’d done. He’d been as scared as Doyum was, and how could he blame him? 

‘I did. But I don’t think I can hide it anymore.’ Doyum searched for a sign, and Sangwoo licked his lips, still leaning against the wall.

Without hesitation, Doyum stepped forward, pressing his lips against Sangwoo’s. Melting into the warmth, Sangwoo reciprocated the kiss, tugging at his collar to pull him closer. The scene felt oddly familiar. Withheld for so long, Sangwoo initiated the next kiss, unable to take his eyes off Doyum’s plump lips. Doyum’s stomach flipped at the contact, something he’d imagined so many times taking place this way. The only difference was that Sangwoo was the one pinned against the wall. For some reason, he’d imagined it the other way around, but he wasn’t complaining.

They pulled apart briefly, and Doyum smiled. For the first time in months, he felt himself again, light. Sangwoo’s body felt warm against Doyum’s, and his lips parted on their own, wanting more. 

‘Wanna know when I started liking you?’ Sangwoo suddenly asked in a teasing tone. Doyum hummed in response, hands resting on Sangwoo’s hips.

‘Remember that night after dance practice? The way you looked down at me and licked your lips… I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I thought I was going crazy, Doyum.’

As Doyum replayed that moment in his head, Sangwoo continued.

‘I started thinking… That night, if you kissed me, I don’t think I would've resisted.’

Doyum remembered that night, of course he did. How he’d cried when he returned to the dorm, certain Sangwoo had caught onto his foolish feelings. He had no idea if Sangwoo would tell the members, if he was disgusted at him, if he was going to have to leave the group. 

Sensing the boy’s sudden discomfort, Sangwoo’s hand travelled up to Doyum’s neck with the intention to soothe him by petting his hair. Doyum flinched as Sangwoo’s fingers brushed against the mark on his neck. Two miniscule marks on his neck were discernible from freckles only by the red flush that surrounded them. Caught up in his bliss, Sangwoo thought Doyum’s neck was just unusually sensitive. Every touch of Doyum’s felt scalding, and he assumed it was the same for him. When Sangwoo looked at what he’d touched, he realised he’d completely forgotten about what he’d done earlier. Shit, it actually left a mark?

‘Oh god, Doyum, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise- I didn’t think the fangs were that sharp. Did I hurt you?’ As if his touch was scalding, Sangwoo immediately took his hands off Doyum’s neck.

‘Can you do it again?’ Doyum took the risk, saying the words he’d only imagined. 

He felt Sangwoo’s breath hitch against his neck. Should he have kept that to himself?

‘What?’ Sangwoo wasn’t sure what he was referring to. Take his hands off his neck again? 

‘That… thing you did earlier. I didn’t mind it. I just… wished it wasn’t for the game.’ Doyum’s eye contact wavered as he grew shy. He’d been so confident saying it the first time, but perhaps he shouldn’t have been so impulsive when they’d barely tested the waters. He was sure neither of them had been with a guy before, or even considered it before… everything that happened. The fact that they’d repressed their feelings for each other for all this time was valid enough proof.

‘With the way your heart reacted, I should’ve known you were into that... ’ 

Sangwoo didn’t need any more prompting, flipping Doyum around to press him against the wall roughly before sinking his teeth into the boy’s neck. Inseparable like the opposite poles that they were, Doyum’s hand found its way to Sangwoo’s hair, softly tugging at it. His other hand crept under Sangwoo’s shirt, dancing his fingers against the boy’s back. At the sudden sensation of Sangwoo’s lips against his neck, a soft sigh escaped him. He fell into his touch, pressing his knee between Sangwoo’s. Breaking contact with Doyum’s neck, where a different mark was now forming, Sangwoo pulled Doyum into another deep kiss.

Neither boy needed a watch to know their hearts were racing.