Chapter Text
Seonghwa’s body remembered, even if his mind did not. And that was a particularly comforting fact they had discovered in the two weeks after he had returned to KQ Entertainment, after his ten month-long hiatus spent recovering from the effects of the star-tear disease. Because even if he had lost the memories of his past three years (in addition to his colour vision), his muscles retained the dance and vocal ability he had gained during that time.
There was an evaluation he had to go through at the company before he was deemed to be fit for contract renewal with the rest of ATEEZ, a K-pop group that Seonghwa had apparently been part of for a little over a year. He had participated in their second comeback earlier that year right before the disease hit.
The star tear disease was rare, fantastical almost. It was said to only manifest in people whose emotions ran deeper than most, and Seonghwa had been lucky — in a morbid sort of way — to have been one of them. There had been less than a hundred cases of star tear disease in the past century or so, and Seonghwa had been the most recent one in about twenty years. Symptoms began with star tears (hence the name) falling from your eyes in the colour which your photoreceptors would lose in the next twenty-four hours, and ended with your memories of the one you loved being erased. It was a method of healing for the body, perhaps, Seonghwa had mused. To eradicate all the pain caused by that person not loving you back, since they were the reason for the disease in the first place.
Seonghwa sometimes wondered how his person was doing. He wondered if they thought about him sometimes. If they felt guilt, or regret. If they ever reconsidered their feelings for him. But the moment such thoughts began to form in his mind, Seonghwa instantly shook it off.
To him, it was better to leave the past in the past. Ignorance is bliss, he had always believed. It was why he had adamantly refused to be informed of that person’s identity during the entire ten months he had spent in recovery. Only a few people knew, anyway. His supposed close friends, who were the eight members of ATEEZ, his parents, and the therapist who had consulted him weekly during his hiatus.
Seonghwa just hoped that the person didn’t blame themselves. He hoped they were doing okay, and that they had found happiness and love of their own, even if it wasn’t with him.
Now, he was determined to focus on his career and move forward with his life. And judging by the expressions of the CEO, his dance mentor and vocal trainer as he entered the CEO’s office, he was doing a good job of it so far.
“Seonghwa,” the CEO said as he shook his hand, a warm smile on his face. “I suppose you can guess from our expressions that we have good news to tell you.”
Seonghwa beamed, joy coursing through his veins. Even if he didn’t remember his trainee days at the company or his experience as a rookie idol in the industry, he had always longed to be a singer since he was a kid. This was almost like a dream come true for him — he had seemingly entered a new life with his longtime passion fulfilled, without the knowledge of the hardships he had to go through to get him there in the first place. He supposed it took a little bit of meaning out of it, but Seonghwa preferred to look at the bright side of things.
“Did I pass?” Seonghwa said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, fists clenched in nervous anticipation. “Can I be a part of ATEEZ again?”
His dance mentor smiled from ear to ear. They were truly happy for him, Seonghwa could see that. Though he had basically known everyone at the company for only two weeks, Seonghwa felt at home with them. They treated each other like family, and this was true for ATEEZ most of all. He knew that they were all waiting out in the hallway, ready to pounce on him (or comfort him, depending on the news) the moment he left the room.
Or rather, six of them would be out there. Seonghwa barely saw their leader since he had returned to the company. He wondered why it was, but San had told him rather hesitantly that it was because Hongjoong was always busy with work, especially now that the comeback was near. Seonghwa understood, but he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. Surely a member returning from a long hiatus, having recovered from something as rare as star tears, was something to be celebrated? Yet Hongjoong had only said a handful of words to him since he had come back.
But Seonghwa didn’t want to dwell on off-putting thoughts when he was about to receive good news.
He nodded as he listened to his dance mentor and vocal trainer praise his performance from the past two weeks. They had deduced that while he had lost his conscious memories, his body’s muscle memory retained the physical skills he had picked up over the four years he had trained and debuted. Seonghwa would only need to work a little harder to catch up with the rest of the members, since he had gotten a little rusty due to ten months of inactivity, like any other normal person would.
“So, the short answer would be: Yes, you passed the two week evaluation, and ATEEZ will promote as an eight-member group for January’s comeback.”
Seonghwa didn’t pause for another moment before he was bowing profusely with thanks spewing from his mouth, as the door to the office slammed open and six other boys were jumping and screaming unprofessionally as they lunged to envelope him in a hug. Seonghwa was smiling so hard that his cheeks had started to ache as he was tackled with hug after hug. He didn’t know when he started crying, only that he found himself being supported by Yeosang as the members jumped around with happiness around him as they walked down the hallway to their dorm.
Seonghwa had never felt so loved.
…
Later that evening, he lay on his bed with Yeosang beside him as they waited for Mingi to return from the bathroom. The members had all calmed down that evening after they celebrated his return with a few rounds of drinks and meat. Seonghwa called an end to the night when he felt his stomach lurch dangerously with the alcohol. San and Yeosang had to basically carry him home, where he promptly collapsed on his bed and his thoughts started to drift as the other members made to get ready for bed.
The alcohol made him brave.
“Yeosang,” Seonghwa murmured. The other boy flipped to his side to face Seonghwa, eyelids heavy but with a dorky grin on his face.
“Hyung, I’m so happy you’re back,” he slurred. “You don’t know how much we missed you. All of us.”
“All of you? Really?” Seonghwa mumbled, the filter between his mouth and brain gone. “Where’s Hongjoong, then? I never see him around.”
There was no reply. When the silence dragged on for too long, Seonghwa turned his head to look at Yeosang in concern, thinking he had drifted off to sleep. But Yeosang met his eyes, more alert than he had been just now. He chewed on his lip, eyebrows pinched like he was fighting an internal battle. Seonghwa was curious, but he was too tired to pursue the topic. He flipped back on his back to stare at the ceiling.
“It’s okay. I know he’s busy,” Seonghwa sighed. On normal days, he wouldn’t let his disappointment show so easily, but the night and the alcohol made him honest. He let his eyelids flutter shut, too tired to care about cleaning up. Yeosang’s soft voice took him by surprise.
“Hyung,” he said, and Seonghwa could hear the caution in his words. “Hongjoong-hyung probably just needs time to get used to you again.”
“Why? Were we not close before I left?” Seonghwa’s words had a tinge of sadness to them. With his eyes still shut, he recalled all the encounters he had had with Hongjoong throughout the past two weeks. They had always been short, the other boy never quite holding his eye contact during the few times Seonghwa had tried to make conversation. When Seonghwa reached out to pat his shoulder lightly, he had shied away, then apologised, hurrying off without an explanation. Seonghwa had been hurt, but he comforted himself with the assumption that Hongjoong probably just didn’t like to be touched, unlike his other six members.
And yet there was that first day, where Seonghwa had been re-introduced to everyone and shook Hongjoong’s hand. He remembered thinking that he’d want to hold it forever, then wondering where that thought had come from. But Hongjoong’s jaw was tight, his eyes swimming with an emotion Seonghwa couldn’t place, even as he held onto his hand for a second longer than normal, before wrenching it away and excusing himself through the door he had just entered.
Hongjoong’s hand had been warm, familiar. And Seonghwa had known instantly that this was somebody he could trust, somebody he felt comforted by. So why did Hongjoong say “nice to meet you”, as if they didn’t know each other before? Seonghwa couldn’t be deceived, because even if his mind didn’t remember, his body reacted to physical touch with familiarity (or unfamiliarity, depending on the person).
It was how he almost immediately fell back into rhythm with the rest of the group members, receiving and providing physical affection comfortably, though albeit a little shyly at first. He sensed instinctively their love and care for him, and the casual way they initiated skinship told him that they had been doing this for a long time. When Wooyoung nuzzled his way into his arms on the couch, Seonghwa felt a natural endearment come over him. When Yunho’s hand slipped into his as they walked to the practice rooms, Seonghwa didn’t have to think before he was squeezing back. He even felt a protectiveness over their youngest, Jongho, who seemed the most averse to initiating physical contact.
So even if it was just a five second handshake, Seonghwa felt as though he knew the answer to his own question. Hongjoong and him had to have been close, at least as close with each other as Seonghwa was with the other members, because Seonghwa had felt a longing to prolong that physical contact despite only having just met him. He was drawn to Hongjoong, and it didn’t feel right that there were only seven of them at the breakfast table, or in the living room, or calling out “goodnight” throughout the house. Something — or rather, someone — was missing.
But he let Yeosang answer.
“You and Hongjoong-hyung were close, hyung. Probably… closer to each other than you both were with the rest of us,” said Yeosang haltingly. Seonghwa looked down and saw Yeosang wringing his hands. A nervous habit. He reached over and took one of them in his hand. Yeosang paused before he continued. “But after you got star tears, you guys weren’t on the best terms.”
“So, we fought?”
“Not really. It was just… painful. Scary. Tense. For all of us, but Hongjoong-hyung was affected the most.”
Seonghwa hummed. They lapsed into silence for a while, until Yeosang spoke again.
“Seonghwa-hyung,” he said, squeezing his hand. “Before you forgot everything, you told me not to bring up painful memories.
“Do you still… abide by that?”
Seonghwa let a small smile rest on his face. He nodded, the pillow ruffling his hair. “I want to start afresh, you know? But thank you, Yeosang-ah.”
Perfectly on time, there was a knock on the door before Mingi popped his head in.
“Yeosang, hyung, the bathroom is ready,” he said, drying his hair with a pink towel.
“Took you long enough,” Seonghwa joked, grinning cheekily. He sat up, and looked back at Yeosang, whose eyebrows were still pinched together in worry. Trying to pull the other out of his thoughts, he gently tugged at his wrist. “Yeosang, you wanna go shower first?”
“No, it’s okay, hyung, you can go,” Yeosang said, distractedly nudging Seonghwa off the bed. “I just… wanna talk to Mingi for a bit.”
Seonghwa nodded, and made his way out of the room, ignoring the confused look Mingi sent Yeosang’s way, and the nagging feeling that the topic of discussion between the two of them might be surrounding him. He knew they meant well, and he appreciated their concern, but he was starting to regret revealing his hurt feelings about Hongjoong.
…
The next day was an off-day for the group. According to their manager, it was going to be their last big break before they began really preparing for their comeback. The members had made plans a couple of days before to head out to the arcade near their company and have lunch at their favourite restaurant down the street, and the thought of having fun like normal, non-famous people thrilled Seonghwa. He was looking forward to the day, until he passed by Hongjoong’s room in the morning on the way to his kitchen and noticed that it was empty, curtains not even drawn to let the sunlight in. He’d headed to the studio early again.
Even though Seonghwa itched to step in and draw the blinds for him, the fear of overstepping his boundaries forced him to keep walking to the kitchen. He prepared his cup of coffee in silence, the morning coolness draping over him like a blanket. As he sipped the warm drink, his thoughts drifted back again to the boy who had already left the dorm, and Seonghwa made a decision.
Not long after, the other boys rose from their slumbers, yawning as they joined Seonghwa in the kitchen. Seonghwa’s lips quirked as he watched them, a fondness settling in his chest. Wooyoung had his arms draped across Yeosang’s shoulders, his feet dragging on the floor as Yeosang hissed at him to walk by himself, even as his hands reached back to hold his hips, making sure he didn’t fall. San sat on the couch until Seonghwa brought him a cup of coffee, staring into space sleepily. When Mingi stumbled into the living room and stubbed his toe on the way, jolting everyone out of their drowsy state with a yell, Seonghwa was hit with a sense of déja vu.
He wondered if it had always been like this, before his hiatus, or if there was one more person to join them. His gaze drifted back to the dark room at the beginning of the hallway.
Someone suddenly barrelled into his chest, knocking the breath out of Seonghwa. Without thinking, Seonghwa breathed out a name, his arms instinctively coming around the other’s waist.
“Hongjoong.”
Yunho detached himself from him, blinking blearily and cocking his head to the side as he stared at Seonghwa.
“No Hongjoong,” he said, jabbing a thumb at himself. “Yunho.”
Even as Yunho moved on, making his way to the toaster, Seonghwa was still frozen, a mix of emotions swirling in his stomach. There was the confusion at himself for the instinctual name that had slipped from his lips, and then there was something else. That something else pulled at his gut, and sent a sharp twinge of pain to his chest.
“Seonghwa-hyung.” Seonghwa’s brain registered the gravelly voice only after a couple seconds had passed. He blinked and saw Mingi standing beside him, shooting him a concerned look while one hand loosely held Yunho’s wrist. “You okay?”
“What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine,” Seonghwa forced a smile, tearing his eyes away from the tender way Yunho entangled his fingers with Mingi’s. “Sorry, got lost in my thoughts there.”
Seonghwa turned his head and met the eyes of Yeosang and Wooyoung, who were both staring at him concernedly while the latter sat between the legs of the former, back leaning against chest. Seonghwa sent a quick smile their way and walked as fast as he could back to his room, unnecessarily worked up over nothing.
He cursed his mind for lingering on the two couples and their affection for each other, and his stupid heart for wanting what it couldn’t have.
…
Just after their dinner arrived at the restaurant table, Seonghwa lied and said he felt sick. He felt slightly guilty when they turned to him with anxious expressions, and he quickly assured them that it wasn’t serious — it was just a small headache and he’d be okay once he rested for a while at home. He asked the waiter to package the rice and side dishes he had (over)ordered into takeaway containers, then left the table, paying for the meal at the counter.
“Hyung,” San’s voice surprised Seonghwa, and he turned around to see the boy walking nearer to him, a concerned expression on his face. Seonghwa, in all honesty, was tired of seeing worry on his members’ faces when they talked to him, and he almost wanted to give in and confess his lie. But it would only prompt more fretting once they found out his reason for lying, so he kept silent as San placed the back of his hand on his forehead. “You sure you don’t want me to accompany you home?”
Seonghwa shook his head, bringing a hand to hold San’s nape reassuringly. “Don’t worry, San-ah. I’ll be okay.”
“It’s just that this morning…” San trailed off, noticing Seonghwa stiffening. He lowered his voice, brow creasing. “You over-ordered just now. You’re not actually sick, are you? You’re going to see Hongjoong-hyung?”
Seonghwa hesitated, before tugging him to the side hidden by the plants, where they wouldn’t be seen by the others. He stared pleadingly into San’s eyes. “Don’t tell them, please? I’m just… trying to fix things. I don’t like seeing you guys tiptoe around the topic of Hongjoong with me, and I just want us to all be comfortable together, you know?”
San bit his lip, nodding. There was something sad in his eyes as he gave Seonghwa a small smile.
“You’ve always been like that,” he said. “Always going to the studio with food for him, or to bring him home when it’s late.”
Seonghwa didn’t let the surprise show on his face. He’d always done this? So Hongjoong had an unhealthy habit of overworking himself. And Seonghwa had cared for him enough to do something about it?
“But hyung,” San continued, hesitating. “Just… don’t let yourself get hurt, okay?”
Seonghwa stared at him incredulously. “Hongjoong isn’t a bad person.”
San immediately shook his head, frustrated, but Seonghwa knew it wasn’t directed at him. “No, I wasn’t saying he was. Just that you should be careful. Since, you know, you guys aren’t… on the best of terms.”
Seonghwa smiled, rubbing San’s shoulder. “Don’t be silly, Sannie. Hongjoong won’t hurt me. We’ll be back to being good friends in no time.”
The cashier stole his attention at that moment, and Seonghwa swiped his card, paying the bill for the members. He waved goodbye to San, who still chewed on his lip nervously as he raised a hand in farewell, and pushed the door of the restaurant open, stepping out.
…
Seonghwa had the directions open on Google Maps, but he mostly let his feet carry him. He must have gone to Hongjoong’s studio enough times before, because his body instinctively knew the way.
In fact, as he stood in front of the frosted glass door, fist raised and ready to knock, the feeling of déja vu crept up on him again. He felt a surge of irritation when he couldn't place the memory, as hard as he strained. Sucking in a breath, he knocked on the door and saw the blurred figure on the chair shift a little towards the doorway, eyes never leaving the screen.
“Come in!” Hongjoong called, and Seonghwa’s heart tugged a little at the tired tone of his voice. He pushed the door open cautiously, the other hand tightening around the plastic bag with the food.
“Wow, Eden-hyung, the food actually smells good this time-” Hongjoong drawled as he spun around in the chair, his voice lodging in his throat when he caught sight of Seonghwa.
There was a moment of stunned silence before Hongjoong breathed, “Seonghwa.”
Seonghwa stood awkwardly in the doorway, his free hand coming up to scratch his neck nervously. This was harder than he thought it would be. He stuck out the arm carrying the food to Hongjoong, who didn’t even seem to notice, gaze still frozen on Seonghwa’s face. Seonghwa let his arm holding the food drop, feeling a little foolish.
“Well,” Seonghwa said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m not Eden-hyung, but I did bring you dinner.”
Hongjoong seemed to snap out of his daze, tearing his eyes away from Seonghwa. He half-rose from his seat and hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure whether to move closer to Seonghwa or stay sitting. In the end, he shuffled to Seonghwa and took the plastic bags from him, muttering a quiet “thank you”.
When their fingers brushed against each other, Seonghwa’s breath hitched. The urge to reach out and clasp Hongjoong’s hand overcame him again, and he wanted to slap himself for having such ridiculous thoughts. Hongjoong paused as well, and for one moment, Seonghwa feared that he’d heard him. But Hongjoong only looked up, his eyes meeting Seonghwa’s, lips parting as though he wanted to say something else. There was a fleeting emotion in Hongjoong’s eyes that Seonghwa couldn’t identify before Hongjoong blinked and turned, the plastic bag slipping from Seonghwa’s fingers.
Hongjoong placed the bag on the couch and turned back to Seonghwa, hands clasped in front of him. Seonghwa wished he wasn’t so polite with him. He wanted to relax around Hongjoong, and play with him like he did with the other boys.
“Thank you for bringing me dinner,” Hongjoong said quietly, his face cast towards the floor.
“You’re welcome,” Seonghwa said nervously. He hesitated, then decided that he had nothing to lose anyway. “Do you think I could eat with you?”
Hongjoong’s eyes widened, and he scurried to make space for Seonghwa on the couch. “Oh, oh my god, I’m so sorry. I should have offered you a seat earlier. Uh, do you want water? I have water-”
Seonghwa felt the first genuine smile inch its way across his lips. Hongjoong was cute when he was flustered, especially when his hair was frazzled from running his hands through it and his nose was flushed pink. He caught Hongjoong’s fingers without thinking, and both of them froze. Seonghwa tried to ignore the increased thudding of his heart against his ribcage as he pulled Hongjoong down to sit on the couch. He busied himself with unpacking the containers as Hongjoong watched, hands hovering like he wanted to help, but ultimately falling back on his lap.
Seonghwa scooped up some rice with a spoon and brought it to his mouth, other hand cupped underneath it to catch any spillage. He noticed Hongjoong’s eyes following his spoon, his own utensils sitting uselessly on the couch. Hongjoong’s mouth parted, as if waiting for something, but when Seonghwa stuffed the spoonful into his own mouth, the other boy snapped out of his daze, face glowing bright red.
“Um, Hongjoong,” he said uncertainly. “Is there something wrong? You kept staring at my spoon, so-”
“What?” Hongjoong’s face glowed a flaming red. “No, it’s just… it’s nothing.”
It suddenly clicked. Hongjoong’s parted lips. Waiting. His hands not making any move to use his own spoon.
“Ah,” Seonghwa said stiffly, his heartbeat increasing unnecessarily. Hongjoong’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, but no sound came out. “Is that what I used to do when I came here? Feed you?”
Hongjoong made a strangled noise, ducking his head and beginning to shovel rice into his mouth. Seonghwa almost regretted not taking him up on his offer when the boy choked on his food. His head spun with the implications of his past actions. Was Seonghwa usually that affectionate with the boy? They probably sat close together, thighs barely inches apart. Seonghwa probably cupped a hand below his chin when he fed him, to catch any rice grains that fell. Did Hongjoong smile at him, eyes twinkling, with his mouth full as he chewed on his food?
Seonghwa’s neck grew hot, and to distract himself, he followed Hongjoong’s example of bowing his head and shovelling as much food as he could into his mouth, as fast as he could.
At some point, Hongjoong took a break, and Seonghwa thought it might be safe to look up again. The boy’s cheeks were still dusted pink, but he seemed to have recovered slightly from the earlier humiliating encounter.
“So, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said, sitting with his spine too straight. “You remember coming here before?”
Seonghwa swallowed his mouthful of food, shaking his head. His heart still beat at an unnaturally fast pace. “No, but Sannie told me I used to come here a lot.”
“Ah, did Sannie ask you to bring me dinner?”
“No, I just thought you might be hungry.” At his words, Hongjoong’s eyebrow twitched, and there was another flash of emotion in his eyes before he averted his face.
“You care too much, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong mumbled, and Seonghwa stayed silent, unsure whether it was meant as a compliment or not. “Even now, when you barely know me.”
“Then let me get to know you better, Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa blurted, the casual term slipping out before he could stop himself. Hongjoong watched him with guarded eyes, but Seonghwa could see the guilt behind them. There was fear, too. And something else, a little more hidden. Longing.
Trembling, Seonghwa stood and walked over to Hongjoong’s empty side of the couch, their dinner forgotten. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could keep what he had eaten down — let alone finish his meal — with Hongjoong looking at him like that. Seonghwa’s nerves thrummed in his veins. When he took Hongjoong’s hands and sat down shakily, the places of his skin in contact with Hongjoong felt like they were on fire.
Seonghwa had learned to follow his heart when he was with the people his mind didn’t remember. And on this occasion, his heart was telling him to pull the other boy into his arms and erase the fear in his eyes. Even if it meant that Seonghwa would burn.
But Seonghwa only kept holding his hands for now, feeling a thin layer of sweat between both of their palms.
“I want to start anew,” Seonghwa spoke, his mouth dry. “Whatever happened between us, can we leave it in the past?”
“Do you know… what happened between us?” Hongjoong asked, and his voice was small and scratchy. His eyes shone under the dim studio lights, and Seonghwa’s heart ached.
“No, just that we were on bad terms,” Seonghwa said, voice soft. He bowed his head, loosening his grip on Hongjoong’s hands. “I’m sorry if I hurt you or upset you in any way before. Can we be friends again?”
There was a pause as Hongjoong hesitated. Seonghwa looked up, eyebrows pinching together anxiously as he searched Hongjoong’s face for an answer. He hoped he hadn’t blown it with the hand-holding. For all he knew, Hongjoong didn’t like physical contact.
But all doubt was eradicated when Hongjoong grabbed his hand tightly and met his eyes as though he was asking permission. Seonghwa nodded, slightly confusedly, and before he knew it, Hongjoong was sliding an arm around his waist and pulling him flush against his torso, his other arm snaking behind Seonghwa to support his shoulder. Hongjoong was everywhere, and Seonghwa felt like he was drowning and burning at the same time.
Hongjoong was smaller than he looked, if it was possible. Yet Seonghwa could feel strong, lean muscles beneath the skin of his back, and a hard, muscled chest pressed against his own. Seonghwa realised with a start that Hongjoong probably worked out, in addition to the dance practices they did. He didn’t know how to feel about it.
All coherent thought left his brain the moment he felt wet lips brushing against his ear.
“Don’t apologise. It should be me saying sorry.” A pause. Was this really happening? “I’m sorry, Seonghwa.”
“I forgive you,” Seonghwa whispered, once he regained control of his voice. Feeling brave, with his view of Hongjoong hidden from sight, Seonghwa let his hand graze over his back and settle in his hair, feeling the soft tufts in between his fingers. Hongjoong shivered, and Seonghwa stopped, afraid he had gone too far.
Instead, Hongjoong just chuckled softly. Sadness bled into it, and Seonghwa wanted so badly to take it away. “You don’t even know what you’re forgiving.”
Seonghwa relaxed at his voice, feeling the tension leave his body as he melted into Hongjoong. He shifted his mouth closer to the shell of Hongjoong’s ear, feeling the other suck in a sharp breath. Two could play at this game.
“Maybe. But I know you’d never hurt me on purpose, because you’re a good person.”
Seonghwa pulled back when there was no response from the other, shooting him a smile. The other sent a nervous grin back, and Seonghwa was suddenly struck by how pretty he was. Hongjoong’s teeth peeked a little through the gap in his lips, and his eyes curved like moons. Seonghwa thought he might want to make him smile forever.
Before he did something he couldn’t take back, Seonghwa detached himself from Hongjoong, letting his hands fall from his hair. He felt his hand immediately go back to rub the back of his neck nervously.
“Do you think you could show me what you’re working on? I’m curious about what you do here in your studio all day,” he said, smiling bashfully.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Hongjoong agreed immediately. “It’s a little messy in here, but…”
While Hongjoong took out a stack of paper, Seonghwa hurriedly cleared what was left of their dinner, smoothing his hands over the velvet of the couch. When he turned around, he saw Hongjoong gazing at him with a fond smile on his face. Seonghwa blushed and indicated at the couch that it was clean.
Hongjoong settled back on it, and Seonghwa followed. He tried to ignore the jolt in his heart when Hongjoong’s shoulder would rub against his when he shifted, or when their fingers brushed as the boy passed him a music sheet to look at, or when Hongjoong would turn his face to him and smile shyly. Their knees knocked together sometimes, and Seonghwa felt himself relax. It was familiar, being like this next to Hongjoong. He was happy — probably way more than he should be — that they had made up, even if Hongjoong did hesitate before responding to Seonghwa’s touches, and his eyes still had uncertainty in them when they held eye contact for a second too long.
Seonghwa hoped to change that.
“Hey, what’s this one?” Seonghwa picked up a sheet of paper that had fallen to the floor, his eyes catching on to two lines of lyrics written in Hongjoong’s messy handwriting.
You and me,
It’s always the two of us.
“Hm?” Hongjoong glanced over from another music sheet, before his eyes widened and his hand shot out, stealing the paper from Seonghwa’s loose grasp.
“Oh,” he stammered, folding the sheet in quarters and tucking it in a drawer beside his feet. “It’s… personal. Private. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Seonghwa assured him, hoping that his smile conveyed that he wasn’t mad. He nudged Hongjoong’s shoulder playfully, sending him a wink. “If it’s a love song, I won’t pry.”
Hongjoong stammered a little more, denying it, but Seonghwa only laughed, waving it off as a joke. He settled back into the couch, letting his head droop onto Hongjoong’s shoulder, feeling as though everything would be alright, now that they were friends again.