Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I made response to him with bashful forehead. 

“O, of the other poets honour and light, 

Avail me the long study and great love 

That have impelled me to explore thy volume! 

Thou art my master, and my author thou,

Thou art alone the one from whom I took

The beautiful style that has done honour to me.

This is the story that everyone knows: On April 20th, 2023, Hwang Minhyun calls out Kim Taerae’s name in front of six thousand people seated in Jamsil arena, and tens of thousands more people watching from home. In front of them, he ascends the stairs and takes his place in a chair with the number six printed on the back.

Park Hanbin stays on the ground. His name never leaves Hwang Minhyun’s lips.

Zerobaseone is formed.

They take the first week post-finale at a slower pace. WakeOne seems to want to try and ease them into it, which makes Taerae laugh because kindness is practically an antonym to the name WakeOne.

He’s not an idiot, though, and as soon as he’s certain that he’s actually getting a break, he goes to meet Woongki for lunch.

Seowon is supposed to be there too, but his group is reinvigorated after the popularity that Seowon brought their way, and he’s swamped with preparations that he refuses to talk about. It’s a surprise~ is what he sends in the end, and Taerae grins at it as he puts his phone away and ducks into the cafe where they decided to meet.

Woongki is there already, of course, upstairs at a table in the corner, already looking at Taerae before he even takes off his mask. “Kim Taerae, have you no shame!” Woongki huffs, pouting playfully. “I’m a very busy and famous person you know, I don’t have time to wait on people like you!”

“Of course, of course, sunbaenim,” Taerae laughs back. Woongki’s already ordered for them both. The sandwich looks unappetizing, but it’s okay, and Woongki beams when Taerae makes an appreciative noise as he bites in. “How did you even get this level of privacy?”

“I’m a star,” Woongki states, and he leaves it at that.

They make polite, casual conversation while they eat. When Taerae swallows his last bite of food, Woongki stops pretending to be polite and casual. “Are Zhang Hao and Hanbin actually fucking?”

Taerae almost shoots coffee out of his nose. “Hanbin–” he squeaks, before he remembers that the distinction isn’t necessary anymore. “I– I guess I don’t know?”

He almost mentions the fact that he heard raised voices coming from Hao’s room one morning, and the fact that they’re not nearly as glued together as they were during the show, even though they all live together now. Almost, because he suddenly remembers that they work together, and it’s probably not a good idea to spread gossip about the people he’s living and working with for the next two years.

Woongki squints, dissatisfied, but he lets it go. Idly, Taerae is somewhat glad that Seowon didn’t make it. Together, they would definitely have made him fold. “What about Matthew and Jiwoong-hyung?” Never mind. Taerae forgot. Woongki has never let go of anything ever in his entire life. “Are they fucking?”

“Woongki.”

“I got eliminated! I’m not up to date with all the gossip!” Woongki throws his hands in the air innocently and bats his lashes. Taerae laughs, mildly incredulous. “Come on, Taerae-yah, spill the tea!”

He says the last bit in English, which tells Taerae that he’s been spending way too much time on Instagram since being eliminated. Taerae’s chest also hurts, which tells him that he’s missed Woongki even more than he thought. “What do you want to know?” He sighs, defeated.

Woongki leans forward and pulls a pen out of nowhere. “Everything,” he insists, and uncaps it, pushing a napkin to Taerae’s side of the table. “In explicit detail. And I mean explicit.”

They film the commentary episode on the Sunday after the finale. Before Taerae has the chance to meet with Woongki. For the fans, it’s a retrospective. For Taerae, it’s a chance to gather information.

He knows Jiwoong, and he knows Yujin, because they were on the same team together once. He knows Sung Hanbin and Gunwook, because they were in the Korean three-star trainee group together, and he maybe knows Gyuvin and Ricky, because they’ve been on the same team together for the last few weeks in preparation for the finale. He doesn’t know Matthew and Hao at all.

What Taerae learns is this; Yujin’s already playful personality gets a wicked edge when he gets to tease Gyuvin, and Ricky is more than happy to put fuel on that fire. Hao is an absolute freak of a prodigy, and Sung Hanbin is even more of a freak who is totally obsessed with him. Jiwoong is more awkward than expected, and Gunwook is even cuter than he was on the show.

Matthew thinks that he’s awkward with Taerae too.

He can’t help his sigh of relief when Matthew says his name, but Ricky’s name being mentioned gives him pause. Because Ricky, apparently, doesn’t feel awkward with anyone at all.

Never mind the fact that he hovers around their dorm like he’s scared of taking up too much room. Never mind the fact that he’s never said anything to Taerae without breaking eye contact halfway through.

Taerae is asked about his choices. He wants to say everyone, because it’s the truth, but the idea of trying to explain that in front of the cameras and also LipJ makes him feel a little sick. He says Matthew, and adds Hao for good measure.

They ask him some follow up questions that will definitely be edited out of the final episode. Matthew murmurs to Ricky in the corner and winds up saying one of the funniest fucking things said that whole day, his ears red and taking Ricky’s hand in apology.

Taerae laughs so hard that he squeaks and adds another note by Matthew’s name in his head: he knows exactly what to say to the cameras.

The KCon performance is planned well before the finale, so Taerae isn’t exactly surprised. What he is surprised by, however, is how shit of a mood he finds himself in as the days get closer and closer.

Their first official schedule as a team. As Zerobaseone. An official, proper group. They even get one of the nice practice rooms to prepare, and when Taerae realizes, he feels like he could be sick.

Gunwook whistles, ducking to fit through the door. “Oh, this is nice!” He grins, using that same tone of voice that he used during their first official livestream whenever he felt like the entire thing was going to shit. It’s a voice brimming with platitudes, and it sets Taerae’s teeth on edge.

Gyuvin sidles up next to him and then beams at Taerae. “Did you use this practice room a lot too, hyung?” He asks, and Taerae would rather Gyuvin break his fucking nose instead.

He replies, politely, “No, Kep1er-sunbaenim mostly used this room.” As expected, it sends Gunwook and Gyuvin into giddy giggles— Kep1er-sunbaenim, they whisper, delighted, and titter into a corner.

Taerae has to remember to unclench his jaw.

He used to look through the window of this room with the other trainees. Not for long, because they didn’t want to be creepy, but just enough to be hopeful. One day, one day, they would say, and none of them expected it when WakeOne threw them into a gauntlet instead.

The other WakeOne trainees are still in the small room. Down the hall. One of the mirrors is cracked, and has been since Taerae started training there. Whenever they go to practice, Taerae hides between his members until they’re safely behind the door, and he’s certain that he won’t catch their eye in the hall.

He makes sure not to look at the door during practice. Just in case they’re peering in, eyes hopeful and earnest.

This is what Taerae knows, less than a week after the finale.

Sung Hanbin looks at Hao like he’s looking at the sun, the moon, and the stars in the same sky. Jiwoong looks at Matthew similarly, but with half the reverence, and all of the affection. Matthew looks at the two of them with delight, and if there’s a difference, then it’s impossible to tell. Hao looks at everyone like they’re entrenched in a fog.

Their names go in the corners of the napkin. Between Jiwoong and Hao’s corners, he writes Yujin’s name, because it’s the only thread that they share; between Hao and Sung Hanbin’s corners, Taerae writes Gunwook’s because it’s one of the thousands of threads that make up their tapestry. He puts Gyuvin between Jiwoong and Matthew and across from Gunwook, because that makes sense. He puts Ricky between Matthew and Sung Hanbin because that’s the only space left, and then scratches it out.

“Here,” Taerae decides, and puts Ricky’s name in the center of the napkin. It makes a diagonal between Hao and Matthew, as their three global members, and also puts Ricky between Gyuvin and Gunwook, because that makes even more sense, at least to him. Ricky needs to be close to Gyuvin to breathe. Gyuvin’s arms are long enough for him to reach past Ricky’s shoulders to poke Gunwook in the ribs.

“There you go,” he tells Woongki. “Happy?”

Woongki looks down at the napkin, at the eight names arranged in the four corners and edges of the square, at the overlapping lines and arrows. “So where are you?” He asks, absently drawing a heart through the condensation left on his glass. “Where do you belong in this?”

Taerae blinks, not really expecting the question, but the answer comes to him soon enough. “Here.” He takes another napkin and scrawls his name across; KIM TAERAE. “That’s where I belong.”

He makes sure to put that napkin at the other end of the table, far away from the one with his members. Woongki blinks down at the table and then snorts, shaking his head.

Park Hanbin might’ve been one of the most annoying people that Taerae ever met in his life.

The company trusted him, and Park Hanbin seemed to treat that trust like it was entire fucking Earth, like he was Atlas himself. He acted like he was on a personal mission to work himself into a coma before he reached his twenty-fifth birthday.

Faster, sharper, he’d say, and Taerae would grit his teeth and obey. One more time, he’d say, again and again and again, until they’d ran through the entire thing from start to finish fifteen fucking times, and Taerae was ready to rip his own hair out.

Day after day, he’d stay in the practice room for hours and hours, until the sun had set and begun to rise again. He’d stumble through his day in a bleary haze, trembling with exhaustion, only regaining clarity when it was time to throw himself back into the practice room.

Sisyphus with the boulder. Atlas with the Earth. Park Hanbin with practice, except this wasn’t a fate that someone condemned him to. He was not kept there by ball and chain. Taerae was able to turn in for the night just fine.

It consumed him. Work, practice, perfection. It was the only thing on his mind. Park Hanbin couldn’t remember birthdays, or special events, or the agreed upon time for them to meet for karaoke. Park Hanbin fell asleep on the practice room floor with the lights on and got them all yelled at for not dragging him home. Taerae wanted to scream back that they tried, but he was just too fucking stubborn.

After their first evaluation, Park Hanbin grabs Taerae’s arm. “You didn’t overextend this time,” he says, and Taerae has only one second to wonder how the hell did he notice that mid-evaluation?

Because Park Hanbin shakes Taerae excitedly and says, “We looked so good,” and Taerae truly, earnestly hates him in that moment.

In the next, he decides that Park Hanbin is someone that, at the very least, knows what he’s doing.

The napkins get tossed in the garbage, but they stay in Taerae’s mind with each and every subsequent practice.

He’s happy to stay on his separate napkin for now. On his island, by himself. He’s a T-type, he’s a thinker, he’s logical and rational. He’ll get over himself soon enough. He just needs time to sulk.

No one seems to want to let him.

Olive branches and one-armed hugs and the tails of the sentences ending with, “and Taerae too?” Looking at him eagerly, suffocatingly, until Taerae feels compelled to agree.

He feels like a child being caught trying to run away from home, sulking back up the stairs, shoving his bag back into his closet, despondently planning for another day.

He wishes they’d hate him. Scorn and spurn him. Turn him away. Taerae wishes that they’d hated him first. That he didn’t walk up the stairs into their open arms. That they grimaced and flinched away from his touch and said, in hushed voices among themselves, “Why did it have to be him?”

This earnest acceptance, this unflinching welcome that he’s received—why are they welcoming him, it’s his company, his building that they’re working in, this is his home turf, he shouldn’t be welcomed here, they should be looking to him for a green light-

Dumbass, says the voice in his head, in Hanbin’s voice. His Hanbin. Not the Hanbin who greets him with a cup of coffee every morning, now, brewed just shy of the way he’d like it. Get over yourself.

It’s not said fondly. It’s said in the same way that Taerae’s Hanbin would say things when they were running through the choreography for the fifth time that hour and Taerae messed up again on the same piece of footwork and his Hanbin was trying so hard to be kind. Sometimes, Taerae would rise to its challenge. Sometimes, Taerae would crumble under its weight.

Gyuvin doesn’t sound like that when he turns to Taerae after the music cuts. “Wow, hyung,” he grins with glittering eyes. The cut of his smile is fond and that makes Taerae’s stomach churn. “How many times have we performed Here I Am? To make a mistake now-“

Taerae doesn’t mean to hit him.

It’s not a hit. Really. Gyuvin saunters forwards and reaches out a hand. Taerae slaps it away and says, “Don’t touch me,” and his voice is just sharp and shaking enough for the entire room to go still.

Taerae doesn’t go still. He closes his eyes. There you go, he tells himself, and it comes in the miserable tones of his own voice. Finally did it all in.

Why isn’t it gratifying? Why is it a moment completely void of any and all satisfaction? Why can’t he even have just that little childish edge of glee? Why does he just feel like absolute shit?

“I need some air,” he mumbles, and he leaves the room, white noise in his ears. Still, he makes sure to speed up when he walks past the other practice room.

There are three days until KCon.

No one comes after him.

This is the side of the story that most people can guess: On April 20th, 2023, when the entire stadium was chanting Han Yujin’s name, Kim Taerae bowed his head and breathed someone else’s, in small enough movements for no one to read his lips. Park Hanbin, Park Hanbin, he said, over and over, and in the end, it all was for naught.

Park Hanbin looks up at him, smiling sadly.

Kim Taerae looks back down, and feels completely and utterly alone.

They get mobbed at the airport on their way to KCon, and it’s the first time that Taerae really wonders if the ends justify the means used against him.

He’s pressed flat against Ricky’s back with Sung Hanbin holding onto his shoulders. There are people reaching in and reaching above them, the black lenses of their phone cameras boring down at them. There is shouting and screaming, chaos and carnage. Truly, earnestly, Taerae feels that he might die there.

He doesn’t die. He makes it past the glass doors that separate the airport entrance from security. And, eventually, he makes it to his gate just fine.

Taerae sits in an uncomfortable chair at their gate and pretends not to recognize half the faces shuffling over to sit near them. They don’t pull out their cameras but they stare, eyes wide and prying, and there’s an earnest delight in them that Taerae just simply can’t comprehend.

Someone sits in the chair next to him. “Doing okay?” Sung Hanbin asks, smiling without his eyes. Taerae’s seen it a few times since the finale.

Taerae thinks, when I got mobbed that one day, during Boys Planet, when we went to visit our ads, Park Hanbin panicked when I let go to wave at our fans.

Taerae thinks, I wish I didn’t wave, not just because I could’ve held on a little longer, but because these people scare me and I’m supposed to greet them in earnest and I don’t know how.

Taerae thinks, if I said this outloud, you’d think this was a metaphor for how I feel about you, but it’s not, because you’re also facing the mob, and I was praying that you wouldn’t let go of me.

He still hasn’t apologized for his outburst three days ago. The next morning, he gave a half-smile and acted like nothing happened, and they were all gracious enough to move along.

“I’m okay,” Taerae manages, slowly, like it’s his first time speaking the language. “How are you?”

Rote. Robotic. Routine. Maybe, just maybe, he can pass for a proper human.

Sung Hanbin doesn’t even try to appear human. He smiles like the perfect idol that he is and says, “I’m doing okay.” He moves on to ask Gunwook, slumped in his chair next to Taerae. With Hanbin gone, he has to look at the crowd, or at the floor.

It’s not a question which way his gaze falls.

Taerae is given two jobs at KCon. Quests, even, like he’s in a video game. The first one is explicit—take this plastic guitar that we got from a toy store and go make a video with everyone. The second isn’t put into exact words. It’s more so implied when their manager says, with too much purpose to be subtle, that Matthew and Taerae are sharing a room for the one night that they’re in Japan.

Taerae is okay with this, because he wants to get closer to Matthew. Matthew, on the other hand, is positively delighted for the exact same reason.

“You’re the first same-aged friend that I’ve ever had in Korea,” is what Matthew says right away, as soon as they start to unpack. It’s a blindingly sincere thing to say when Taerae hasn’t even opened his suitcase. “I’ve been really excited to make one.”

“Yeah?” Taerae asks, laughing. He’s come to learn that it’s an easy way to deal with the things that Matthew says. Laugh in acceptance, and then ask the simple question to propel him down another rambling path. It’s what Sung Hanbin does half the time, except he’s not trying to deal with Matthew at all. He laughs like he’s genuinely delighted to hear it, and asks like he needs to know what else Matthew has to say.

On some level, Taerae understands.

Matthew is the person he knows the least. All he knows is that Matthew is from Canada, and he’s really fucking good at dancing. His vocal colour is bright and unique, even if his range is on the shorter side. He definitely wasn’t rigged with votes, but Taerae sees more of Matthew’s face than his own, or anyone else’s for that matter, when he rewatches Boys Planet.

Previously, he noted that Matthew knew exactly what to say to the cameras. In Japan, he makes an amendment to that detail. Matthew says whatever he wants to say. The cameras, and the people behind them, just so happen to love it.

“Yeah!” Matthew laughs back, and his eyes go flat with his smile. “In Canada, there isn’t an age hierarchy, and it’s kind of hard trying to remember everything. I’m excited to just, y’know, let loose.”

When he says loose, he makes a little wave with his arms. It’s so cute that Taerae manages to laugh, even around his shock.

He feels like he should dissect every single syllable of that sentence. A confession to hardship, to feeling lost and adrift in a foreign culture, made off-handed and casually like it’s nothing special. Let loose, when they’ve known each other barely three weeks, when Taerae’s spent most of that time rotting in his own head.

Taerae pushes all of that to the side and mimics the wave motion. “What is that?” He asks, laughing, and Matthew just repeats it again, his smile somehow even sunnier the second time around.

Matthew and Taerae spoke exactly one time during Boys Planet, and it was right after the pajama party livestream.

Taerae had gone to the hallway to catch his breath, because the lights were way too hot and there were too many bodies in the room for it to be comfortable. Matthew had been there already, one hand braced against the wall and head bowed low. His shoulders were shaking. He had one hand covering his mouth.

“Matthew?” Taerae had asked, concerned. Too concerned to remember that they weren’t close, because he walked closer and noticed that Matthew was far too pale. “Are you okay?”

From behind his hand, Matthew wheezed, “Need some air,” and he sounded like he was going to faint at any moment. Taerae still hesitated, and looked back at the door, briefly considering going to grab someone else, but then Matthew must’ve taken his silence for something else. “Sorry– please–”

“Okay, okay,” Taerae murmured, soothingly and helped Matthew out to the fire escape.

It was still cold, because it was April at that point, and the nights weren’t warm just yet. Taerae helped Matthew sit down. Even in the dark of the night, Taerae could see an improvement to his complexion. He had already been breathing easier the moment that Taerae started touching him. His eyes, however, were still bright with tears.

April 15th, 2023. Two days earlier, Matthew’s company had posted a notice saying that they’d take legal action against people posting hate against him. One week before that, Matthew was accused of being rigged through the show.

Before he could ask, Matthew blinked and sniffled up at him. “Taerae,” he croaked, and it was the first time that he ever said Taerae’s name. “Could you please get Kamden-hyung for me?”

He had been confused by the request. He had assumed Jiwoong, because Jiwoong was the one that was attached to Matthew’s hip, at the time. Every moment that they weren’t practicing, Jiwoong and Matthew were together, Jiwoong’s hand steady on the small of Matthew’s back.

Now, the request still confuses him. Even more so. Now, Taerae would assume Sung Hanbin, because Matthew and Sung Hanbin speak to each other and Taerae can feel the years of earnest affection between them.

(It strikes him that maybe, just maybe, he might be biased. Now that he lost his own Hanbin, of course.)

At the time, he had just nodded and left Matthew there on his own.

They film the video. It’s just Matthew and Taerae at first and it’s almost impossibly awkward, but it’s also so much fucking fun that Taerae finds it easier to bear.

Matthew looks at Taerae like Taerae is the fucking sun, and Taerae can’t help but smile back.

They got to Hao, Ricky, and Sung Hanbin’s room next, which is almost as awkward. Fortunately, Hao and Sung Hanbin are bottomless pits of charisma and manage to carry the tension, even if they keep giving each other sexually loaded sideways glances that kinda make Taerae want to die. Somehow, Ricky seems more comfortable with them than he does in their own dorm.

They sing Not Alone, and when Sung Hanbin isn’t yearning in Hao’s direction, he’s looking at Taerae like one of them should announce the moral of the story.

Taerae tries to leave the room as fast as possible. He goes to Jiwoong and Yujin’s room without Matthew, who says he’ll wait for Taerae.

Taerae tries not to laugh at the idea, even if he’s fully aware that Matthew passes out within two seconds of his head hitting a pillow. But he goes to the next room without any expectations.

Jiwoong and Yujin mostly want to eat and talk, which is fine, even if Taerae did actually want to sing. He gets to listen to Yujin scat and strum the air in front of the guitar, which is delightful, and more than makes up for it.

He goes to Gyuvin and Gunwook’s room last. It’s not by coincidence.

He has the most fun there, by far.

They’re not like Matthew, who seems so earnestly invested in reaching out and connecting with Taerae that it becomes almost burdensome. They’re not like Hao or Sung Hanbin, who just kind of set the pace without meaning to, nor are they like Ricky, who rushes to catch up. They’re not like Jiwoong or Yujin, who sometimes feel like two aliens from the same planet that Taerae just can’t communicate with.

Gunwook stops the music part way through and he and Gyuvin break into matching grins. It’s almost choreographed, the way that they move in sync as they straight up mock Taerae on his own fucking show.

Taerae turns to the camera in disbelief, and then almost falls off the chair from how hard he laughs.

“That was fun,” Gyuvin says earnestly, after the camera has been stopped, bright-eyed and gleeful with it. “Taerae-hyung, why didn’t you invite me onto your show before?”

He says it in a deep, aggravating whine. Any other day, it would launch Taerae to the brink of fury. Today, it just makes him laugh. “You’re free to stop by any time!” Is how he replies, grinning. “Gunwook-ie certainly didn’t hesitate to.”

Gunwook laughs sheepishly, but he looks distinctly proud. “It was a siren song I couldn’t resist,” he declares solemnly, like he’s a tenth century poet and not an eighteen year old boy.

Gyuvin just grins at Taerae with all his teeth. “Next time, hyung, you should bring your actual guitar,” he says earnestly, and Taerae can’t even fault him for the waves of agony that it sends crashing over him. All he can do is just nod and laugh and say of course, he’ll make sure to do this again, and Gyuvin better make it next time.

They send him off smiling, none the wiser.

Taerae stands in the hall in front of their dorm and decides that he just can’t be there right now.

The singular time that Park Hanbin and Kim Taerae slept together was due to three underlying factors:

1. They had been told that they were going onto Boys Planet, and any existing plans for their debut under WakeOne had been cancelled for the foreseeable future.
2. They were drunk, and the only two people left awake in their entire dorm.
3. Kim Taerae had been singing, and Park Hanbin was entranced by the way his fingers looked on the frets of his guitar.

It’s a brief, sordid affair. Not enough lube, not enough time, too loud and too quick. They don’t talk about it the next morning. The next morning, Park Hanbin isn’t even there. He’s at the studio, dancing as if he hadn’t been fucked just the night before, and when Kim Taerae steps in to kiss his cheek, Park Hanbin turns away.

“After it’s all over,” he had said with the utmost conviction, and that was something that Kim Taerae could agree with. He was the logical type, after all. He wouldn’t let his feelings get in the way.

At his agreement, Park Hanbin had grinned, relieved, and said, “You can even bring your guitar again. Play me a song.”

Here’s the part that Taerae hopes stays between the two of them: After the finale, Park Hanbin sends Kim Taerae polite well wishes for a few weeks, and Kim Taerae sends desperate replies as soon as he’s able to.

On his one free day after the finale, Kim Taerae invites Park Hanbin out for coffee. His message isn’t even read.

Taerae waits three hours, and then messages Woongki and Seowon instead.

What Taerae would love to do is storm out of their hotel. Into the streets of Tokyo. He wants to wander through the dark and sob his heart out and stumble into a bar and drink himself stupid. A real classic breakdown, with the works and all.

Unfortunately, he hasn’t even made his debut yet, and he’s still kinda scared shitless about being yelled at by a manager. So he stands around the elevators and cries a bit for about twenty minutes and then shamefully shuffles back to his room instead.

God, he’s pathetic.

Taerae taps his room card against the door handle and almost slams it shut behind him. Almost, because just in time he sees Matthew half-asleep on Taerae’s bed, and catches himself just in time. Still, it shuts too loud, and Matthew jerks into some sort of consciousness.

“Taerae?” He sits slowly, rubbing at one eye. “You’re back?”

He’s speaking in English. It’s endearing enough to at least partially clear the lump in Taerae’s throat. “Sorry. Lost track of time. Go back to sleep, Matthew-yah. I’ll shower quickly and turn off the lights soon.”

Matthew mumbles something back and Taerae flees into the bathroom, his throat closing up again.

The fact of the matter is this: there are more good days than there are bad. Taerae spends more of his time laughing, and excited, and earnestly joyful than he does despondent and melancholy. Taerae loves these people sincerely. Taerae is happy to have made it, and even more so, he’s happy that these were the eight who made it as well.

He likes Gyuvin. He likes Ricky. They irritated him at first but he likes them now, for their earnestness and sincerity, for the way that Gyuvin’s face crumples when he laughs, for the way that Ricky’s ears go crimson when he’s embarrassed. He didn’t know Hao or Matthew well at the start but he knows them well enough now to know that they’re good, honest, and earnest people.

Earnest. Sincere. Genuine. F-types, feelers, every single one of them. All of them think with their hearts, and not their heads. Even Gunwook, the boy genius among them, is so easy to catch fire with the heat of his own passion.

Taerae is a type-T, but he has more emotion than he knows what to do with, these days. He feels fit to turn to ash at any moment. Not even in the way that Gunwook does—a fiery blaze of glory, of passion and love and desire, a spectacle that’ll leave them singed and speechless. Something much smaller, and sadder, and more pathetic. A wheezing flame that barely manages to sputter.

He wishes that he could understand himself. That he could parse through his thoughts like sheets of music, that he could circle and star the places where he fumbles. That he could practice them like phrases or chords or snippets of a melody, rehearsing his own thoughts over and over until they’re played naturally, without any of the stumbles and self-sabotage that he seems so prone to doing.

Taerae stays under the hot water until his skin starts to hurt, and then he leaves.

Surprisingly, Matthew is more awake when he’s done. He’s actually dancing around the room a little bit, like he’s pacing but to a rhythm that Taerae can’t hear. He sings along under his breath and doesn’t even seem a little bit embarrassed when he turns to see Taerae watching. “You’re done!” He grins. There’s a tiredness to his face but his eyes aren’t hazy. If anything, they’re almost too clear. “I was just trying to stay awake. If I stayed lying down, then I would fall asleep.”

“You didn’t have to stay up,” Taerae manages, eventually, once his tongue unsticks from the roof of his mouth.

“I wanted to chat.” Matthew flops back into Taerae’s bed and wriggles over to make room. “Like, actually chat. About anything. Not trying to spring a serious discussion on you.”

He pats the space next to him. Taerae swallows weakly. “I’m… I’m tired,” he says, and it sounds like a broken plea. “We have a lot to do, tomorrow.”

Matthew blinks. “Can you at least share a bed with me tonight?”

He sounds like he wants it. Taerae feels like he might be sick. “Another time.” He climbs into Matthew’s bed without waiting for an answer. He rolls over and closes his eyes.

He wants to reply when Matthew wishes him good night, but he doesn’t say a damn thing.

After they filmed the commentary episode, Matthew sat next to Taerae in the car. He was very unsubtle about putting himself there, elbowing past Gyuvin and worming his way into the very back, where Taerae tried to put himself on purpose to be able to catch some sleep.

“I won’t bother you,” Matthew had said, immediately, taking one look at Taerae’s face and getting the words out in a rush. “Promise. It’s just– we’re friends, right? So we should get to know each other!”

Taerae had laughed in spite of himself, and in spite of his exhaustion. “That’s right,” he had replied, and he hates himself now for the sickening indulgence of his tone back then. Like he was entertaining Matthew’s whims and wishes. Like he was doing Matthew a favour. “Hope you don’t mind it if I fall asleep on you, though.”

Matthew had just laughed back, a note of relief to his tone when he replied, “That’s fine! To be honest, I’ll probably fall asleep on you too.”

Matthew’s breathing softens within minutes. Taerae stares at the wall and tries not to think about anything at all.

“You know, there’s room for you here,” Woongki had said, pointedly, putting aside the napkin with Taerae’s name. He slapped the other one between them—the one with the other eight names. “Like, a ton of room.”

Before Taerae could even blink, the pen was gone from his hand and Woongki was fitting his name between Matthew and Sung Hanbin’s. At the bottom of the napkin. Right where Taerae had put Ricky first. “That’s–” Taerae protested, forcing himself to stop when Woongki leveled him with a flat look. “No. Nothing.”

Woongki’s lip curled. “What, it’s not where you belong?” He asked, and it was close to mocking. Not quite there, because Woongki is someone who’s simply too kind to weave venom into his words, but in a way, that made it worse; the fact that Taerae very nearly pushed him to that point.

Taerae said nothing. Woongki sighed, his eyes going soft, crumpling up the napkins to put them aside.

Taerae stares into the darkness. He thinks that he can make out the mess of Matthew’s hair on the pillow. He wonders how much longer they have until they wake up. He wonders if Matthew would’ve been so eager to be his friend if Taerae had taken Sung Hanbin’s place in the line-up.

“I think you’d get along well with Matthew,” Park Hanbin had said in the weeks leading up to the finale. Him and Taerae had been sitting outside and trying to enjoy the fresh air. “He’s such a cute kid.”

“He’s our age,” Taerae had replied, grinning when Park Hanbin rolled his eyes. “He is! He might be cute–”

“He’s adorable.”

“I think he’s actually older than me.”

Park Hanbin hadn’t said anything for a moment. “After,” he had said, eventually, and just that word made every muscle in Taerae’s body go tense. “Afterwards, we should get dinner together. The three of us. I’d love to watch you guys talk.”

It was strange, hearing someone else be included in their after. But then again, Matthew had fallen to ninth at the last elimination. Taerae had risen to fourth. Park Hanbin was still just outside the top nine ranks. Who knew where they would be in a few week’s time?

So, Taerae had replied, “That sounds nice.”

Park Hanbin had smiled at him, and quietly taken Taerae’s hand in his own.

Getting out of bed isn’t a conscious decision. It’s one that Taerae’s body makes for him.

Getting into Matthew’s bed, however, is.

He watches Matthew sleep for some time. He feels like a creep. Hunched over Matthew’s back, watching his frame rise and fall with every breath.

He’s still sleeping on one side of the bed. There’s still room for Taerae to climb in.

The bed dips beneath his weight and Matthew makes a noise, soft and sleepy. “Y’r here,” he mumbles, in English, nuzzling further into his pillow. He doesn’t seem to be aware that Taerae has frozen in place, holding his breath. “Hug me.”

What? Taerae wants to ask, along with, aren’t you upset, and are you sure you want me, and you should probably find this weirder. But it’s too quiet, this late at night. Matthew’s breathing is too slow. Taerae doesn’t want to disturb him, to disturb this peace, even if his own mind is swirling with torment.

So, he listens. He climbs into bed. He hugs Matthew’s back, spooning him from behind. Matthew is warm, but he sighs happily when Taerae’s arm slides under his armpit. He goes so far to hold Taerae’s hands in his own. “Comfy?” He sounds slightly more awake, but not by a lot.

“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse and harsh in the quiet, and it makes Taerae flinch. “S-Sorry.”

Matthew makes another soft noise, this time disgruntled. “Tell me,” he breathes, and squeezes Taerae’s fingers. “Easier in the dark.”

He thumbs circles over Taerae’s pulse. He’s speaking Korean. He wants Taerae to understand. He wants to listen. He wants Taerae to speak.

“I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself,” Taerae hears himself whisper. He doesn’t try to stop the words once they start. It’s inevitable. There’s nothing else that he can do. “And I feel like, in doing so, I’ve become a shape that can’t fit in here.”

Matthew hums. Taerae keeps talking. “I wish my friends made it, but I’m also glad that you all did, and I wouldn’t change a thing, and I don’t know if that makes me a bad friend to them or a bad teammate to all of you.”

“I’m trying to be better to all of you but it feels like I’m going to explode and I don’t know how to alleviate this… this anger that I feel.”

“I want to be your friend, Matthew-yah, but I don’t know–”

“Don’t.” It’s the first real word that Matthew’s said since Taerae’s started talking. In the quiet of the night, the click of Taerae’s jaw is audible as his mouth shuts. “There’s nothing to know. That’s not how this works. It’s–”

His words creak away as he yawns. His chin bumps their hands and Taerae laughs, wet and watery, in spite of himself. “Let’s sleep,” he says, and he’s stunned to find that he means it. That he’s able to feel the heaviness to his eyes. That he’s able to feel his heartbeat slow. That he feels better. “We can talk in the morning.”

“Sorry,” Matthew yawns again, and his words are already slurring. Taerae smiles into his hair and wonders how he ever went so long not knowing him. “Good night, Taerae.”

“Good night, Matthew,” Taerae replies, smiling. He closes his eyes. He slows his breathing.

The night that they had slept together, Park Hanbin might have told Kim Taerae that he loved him.

The moment is hard to remember, blurry with alcohol and exhaustion. It was after everything was over. When Kim Taerae was drifting off, Park Hanbin’s chest pressed against his back.

Lips moved against his neck. Soundless, shapeless, raising the hair on his skin.

Maybe, just maybe, it might have been nothing at all.

“Thank you,” Taerae mouths against the back of Matthew’s neck, a ghost of a sound that he regrets immediately. He blinks and hopes that the wetness of his lashes goes unfelt. “Thank you, Matthew-yah.”

Matthew squeezes his hands and holds them tighter to his own chest. It takes both of Matthew’s hands to hold one of Taerae’s in place. “You’re my friend,” he murmurs back in English, sleepy and almost incoherent. Friend, a word that translates into so many different ways in Korean. Then, he says, in Korean, “I love you.”

Taerae’s inhale is sharp, even to his own ears. Much too loud for a silent hotel room. “I’m sorry,” Taerae shudders through the word and squeezes his eyes shut. The tears fall onto Matthew’s nape and they sound like snowflakes against the sidewalk in November. Taerae would kiss them away if his own shame didn’t burn so hot under his tongue. “I- I’m so-“

His thumb rubbing soothing circles into Taerae’s knuckles, Matthew hums, a tuneless noise that rumbles through Taerae’s chest. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t even seem to open his eyes. They stay like that, entangled and trembling, until Taerae’s eyes run dry and, eventually, finally manage to close.

Therefore I think and judge it for thy best

Thou follow me, and I will be thy guide,

And lead thee hence through the eternal place,

Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,

Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,

Who cry out each one for the second death;

And thou shalt see those who contented are

Within the fire, because they hope to come,

Whene’er it may be, to the blessed people;

Chapter Text

And he to me, as one experienced: 

“Here all suspicion needs must be abandoned, 

All cowardice must needs be here extinct. 

We to the place have come, where I have told thee 

Thou shalt behold the people dolorous 

Who have foregone the good of intellect.” 

And after he had laid his hand on mine 

With joyful mien, whence I was comforted, 

He led me in among the secret things. 

 
Rehearsals go well. Here I Am still makes Taerae want to blow his fucking brains out, and Say My Name is slowly getting to be just as bad, but being on the stage is fun. 

Isn’t that why he started? Why Taerae agreed to join, really? Because he loves it up there; because he wanted to look into people’s eyes and sing his heart out and reach his hands out to them and watch them reach back? 

They leave their needlessly mortifying red carpet—white pants and uniform jackets are, apparently, the worst thing to wear in front of the press—and walk on. It feels like they’re on a set path, gliding from location to location. The cameramen follow them, and Taerae dutifully answers their questions. 

Behind him, he can hear Matthew talking about doing things without regrets, and Taerae grins a little wider at the sound of his voice. 

They haven’t been attached. They aren’t clinging together, today. Matthew’s mostly spending time with Gunwook, which is a visual that will continue to make Taerae laugh for some time. He’s on his own today, it seems, which he doesn’t really mind. He’s too nervous about the performance. Too anxious to get out there. 

And then suddenly, there’s Seowon. 

“Hyung!” He’s shouting, throwing himself into Jiwoong’s arms. Matthew is cheering and running to his side, even as some staff start to clamour and insist that this isn’t the right place to do this, that they have to step out into the hall, that they’re on standby in twenty minutes, that they need to be more professional–  

Sung Hanbin grabs Taerae by the back of his jacket and drags him to the door. “Go,” he hisses and then turns on his most dazzling smile and starts enthusiastically and loudly interrogating the closest staff member about their security situation for the flight back. 

Taerae doesn’t get the chance to thank him, so he just goes. 

Seowon and Matthew are practically vibrating with excitement talking to each other, and Jiwoong seems more than happy to stand back and watch. He catches sight of Taerae and says, “You should get in line for this meet and greet. Sunbaenim’s got places to be.” 

It takes Taerae a second to realize that Jiwoong’s talking to him, but when it clicks, he laughs. “I didn’t bring anything for him to sign, shit!” Taerae jokes, and Jiwoong grins with all his teeth. 

Seowon doesn’t even respond to the teasing. He makes eye contact with Taerae and his entire face explodes with delight. “Taerae!” He beams and rushes over. Taerae barely has time to spread his arms to catch him in a hug. “Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you!” 

“Hyung!” Taerae laughs back. He wants to press his face into Seowon’s shirt, but it’s white and he’s still in a face full of makeup, so he resists the urge. Instead, he just squeezes Seowon around the waist and cocks an eyebrow. “Finally decided to make time for me?” 

He gets a shoulder slap and a scowl. “You’re so full of it,” Seowon giggles, and he swoops down to press a kiss to Taerae’s cheek. Light and quick, Seowon pats at the spot when he pulls away. Satisfied, he says, “Didn’t leave a mark!” 

Of course, Seowon uses that as an excuse to kiss Taerae’s cheek again. “Hyung!” Taerae laughs and wriggles out of his grip. 

He can feel Jiwoong and Matthew watching him curiously, but Jiwoong still says, “We’ll head back inside first. Buy you some more time.” Taerae doesn’t look at them before they leave. He’s too busy looking at Seowon. 

Seowon smiles at them over Taerae’s shoulder. It takes on a wicked edge when he turns it back to Taerae alone. “Been a while since I’ve seen this side of you.” He pinches at Taerae’s stomach, cocking an eyebrow when Taerae squawks. “It's like I'm looking at the Taerae I met during Boys Planet.”  

Taerae grimaces, but he doesn’t flinch. A bitter pill to swallow, but still an expected one. “Listen,” he starts, but there isn’t anywhere else to go. Seowon smiles at him, endeared, belatedly lifting a hand to hide it. “Okay, no need to be having that much fun at my expense.” 

“You’re doing better than I thought.” Seowon’s eyes are shining. “When Woongki texted me, I thought you were in much worse shape.” 

“He texted you? About me?”  

Seowon takes Taerae’s hands in his and squeezes. "You texted Woongki about me.” Eyebrow raised, his tone gently admonishing. “Taerae.” 

Taerae sighs, and it’s like every ounce of tension leaves him. “Hyung,” he whines, petulant and small, and Seowon laughs and hugs him again. 

They perform. It’s nothing like Taerae’s ever experienced. It’s basically a concert, which feels presumptuous to think, but they’re on moving platforms and tossing signed plastic balls at the audience and firing t-shirt cannons with horrendous aim and, well, if it looks like a duck, right?

They perform and it’s incredible. Taerae smiles and smiles and smiles until it feels like his face is about to fall off. 

They perform and right away, they’re on a plane back to Korea. They travel to the airport and pretend like they’re not all holding their breath, shoulders tense and eyes tight with anxiety. Matthew in particular is anxious. 

Or, rather, angry. 

Preemptive irritation. It’s not enough to be called fury, but it’s in such stark contrast to the person that he usually is that Taerae feels taken aback. Maybe even cheated. Like this Matthew is a betrayal of expectation. His features are surprisingly cold when they’re not warmed by the sunniness of his smile. The corners of his lips are downturned, his smile is flat and sharp, and he doesn’t spare any of them a second glance. Matthew plants himself at Yujin’s side the moment that they get to Haneda International Airport, and he stays within arms reach the entire time. 

Taerae looks at him. At the corners of Matthew’s mouth, and his eyes. At all the sharpest points of his face. They aren’t jagged, nor are they rough. 

If Taerae were to cup Matthew’s jaw and kiss him, he’d come away bloodied. Crimson pinpricks in the spirals of his fingerprints, thin lines of blood at the soft of his palm. 

Taerae wonders, did you bleed this morning when you held my face and kissed me?  

Taerae wonders, would you tell me if you did?  

Taerae wonders, if I asked you to stain me with your scarlet, would you say yes?  

Taerae decides, I think I’d like it if you asked me.  

Gyuvin asks, “Hyung, how was the flight?” 

They performed earlier that day. They’re in the car, moving from the airport to the dorm. Tomorrow, in the morning, they’re back into the thick of it. Their debut is sometime in July. Taerae will by dying his hair in a week’s time. Back to brown. Back to how he was when everything began. 

Taerae looks away from Matthew and up at Gyuvin. He smiles, crooked and small. “Cramped,” he jokes, and watches a grin ghost the edges of Gyuvin’s lips. “Probably worse for you, though.” 

He punctuates it with a pat on the inside of Gyuvin’s thigh and leaves his hand there. Gyuvin’s lips quirk higher. “You can borrow some height if you’d like,” Gyuvin tries to stretch his legs but they don’t get very far. The car isn’t much roomier than the plane. “I’ve got plenty to spare.” 

He yelps when Taerae pinches him, but doesn’t try to run away. He also doesn’t move Taerae’s hand. He lets it sit there, even when Hanbin turns around to shush them. 

Taerae grins and rubs the spot where he dug his nails in, and tilts his head to rest it on Gyuvin’s arm. No more running, he thinks, and he hopes his bones remember it, the same way they remember the summer’s warmth after falling asleep in the sun. Unless, of course, I’m running forwards.  

He closes his eyes. Gyuvin hums, satisfied, just slightly out of tune with the sound of the tires on the road. 

That morning, it took Taerae three breaths to identify the warm weight that he had woken up wrapped around. The moment that it registered, he woke up the rest of the way and withdrew, cheeks flushing. “G’morning,” he had rasped, all of it too much already—the heat of embarrassment, the haze of slumber, the gunk in his eyes, the stale taste to his mouth, the way his heartbeat had been stumbling in his chest as it quickened with anxiety. 

“Woah, your morning voice is sexy, Taerae-yah,” Matthew remarked, wriggling over onto his other side to face Taerae. When Taerae burst into surprised laughter, he couldsee the sleepy satisfaction settle in the corners of Matthew’s eyes. “How’d you sleep?” 

That had calmed him some, but his voice still creaked strangely in his throat when he replied, “Good.” He coughed to clear it, and Matthew reached up to thumb some of the gunk out of Taerae’s eyes. He thought it sweet, at least up until Matthew grimaced and rubbed it off on one of the pillows. “Matthew,” Taerae scolded, but he had laughed, endeared. 

Then Matthew kissed him. 

He put both hands on either side of Taerae’s face and scrunched his eyes shut. Startled, Taerae couldn’t close his, and instead he chose to cross-eyed to watch the way that Matthew’s cheeks puffed out. His brow furrow and his breath didn’t taste great but it was a quick, chaste thing. 

He pulled back just as Taerae realized what was happening. Just as he started to wonder if he should kiss back. 

“I love you,” Matthew said, in English, before he said in Korean, “You’re my friend, and I love you.” 

Weakly, Taerae’s lips parted. “This. Is rather fast,” he stammered, much too late, and then wondered if he should kill himself. But he couldn’t, because Matthew hadn’t let go of his face yet, and Matthew didn’t seem to be letting go any time soon, given how hard he was laughing. 

In the hallway at KCon, Taerae asked Seowon, “Why did you become my friend?” He made sure to add, just to offset the painful desperation of his voice, “Besides the fact that I’m, well, y’know-” 

He made a gesture, vague and off-handed, because he wouldn’t dare to say the words out loud. Seowon smiled at him, still pitying, and said, “Because you’re honest to the point of being awful, and it’s the most wonderful thing in the world.” 

So, when Sung Hanbin asks him if he’s gotten his presents for Matthew and Ricky yet, Taerae answers honestly. “Yeah, I got them online.” Sung Hanbin’s answer is a curious hum, and again, Taerae elaborates honestly. “I got Ricky a mug, ‘cause he doesn’t have one, and I got Matthew weights because, well. You’ve seen him.” 

That makes Sung Hanbin laugh. It’s halfway between his polite laugh and his real one. Taerae likes it a lot, probably for the reasons that he shouldn’t. It’s fun seeing Sung Hanbin fail to be the perfect boy that everyone loves him for, because when he’s not perfect, he’s just kind of like all the other loser gay men that Taerae knows. Which is comforting. 

They’re waiting for the others in the practice room after filming their practice with the camping caravans. The room is much too big for the two of them, and Taerae can’t even say that it’s full of ghosts, because it’s the room that he only ever dared to peer into as a trainee. 

He didn’t hide on his way in. Mostly because Gunwook wasn't there and Sung Hanbin is much harder to hide behind, but also because he decided not to. Not anymore.  

Taerae asks, “Hyung, are you gay?” 

Sung Hanbin goes as white as a sheet. 

Taerae adds, a little sheepish, “Sorry. That was mean. I know you are.” When Sung Hanbin still seems like he’s holding his breath and trying to die, Taerae tacks on, “I am too.” 

That does the trick. Sung Hanbin slumps like he’s been struck over the head with a bat. “Oh. Okay,” he huffs weakly. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s nowhere on the Sung Hanbin laugh spectrum that Taerae had previously used as a baseline. “Um. Yes, I am.” 

He doesn’t ask how do you know, because Sung Hanbin is smarter than that. Taerae still gives an answer. “You’re not like, obvious about it. And I don’t think anyone gives a fuck. The people that do give a fuck aren’t worth our time.” 

“Our,” Sung Hanbin echoes, lips quirking faintly. 

Taerae rolls his eyes. “This is how I know that you’re gay and not just some femme dancer, by the way. Only gay people are this uselessly sentimental.” 

Sung Hanbin tips over onto his side and laughs. “Fuck, Taerae,” he chokes, and it’s nothing like anything that Taerae’s heard before. They’ve been on teams together, they’ve been rooming together for weeks, Taerae has watched Sung Hanbin strung up on TV for the entire world to see. This is guttural and messy. He snorts and it sounds like a motorcycle revving its engine, and it makes Taerae lose his mind a little. “Kim Taerae.”

"Yes, Hanbin-hyung?” Taerae asks, and it’s like when he got his braces removed. Is this how this is supposed to feel in my mouth? Is this how alignment and correctness are meant to taste?  

Hanbin-hyung asks, “Were you always this brutal?” 

Taerae tilts his head and raises his eyebrow. “You wanted me to open up. This is me opening up.” 

Hanbin-hyung rolls onto his back and covers his face. “I think I prefer you depressed.” He groans, and he doesn’t try to sound playful. No punches pulled. Taerae smiles with all his teeth back.

They go camping, and Taerae learns a lot in that time. 

Firstly, Matthew is very good at being pointlessly annoying. Simultaneously, Matthew has no idea how to accept a sincere compliment. Also, Matthew’s blond hair goes gold in the sunlight, and it looks like he’s been spun from the stars themselves. 

Taerae takes all that information and quietly pockets it for later. 

They’ve been talking more, but not by much. Matthew is one of the people who migrate around the dorms, and whenever he decides to join Taerae, they talk until they fall asleep. Not about anything in particular. About their sisters and if they’d get along, or the differences between Vancouver and Seoul’s international gates, or how Matthew kinda wants Ricky to call him hyung but not enough to ask for it. 

Matthew rides in Hanbin-hyung's camper and Taerae is a little disappointed, but that fades quickly when Gunwook uses the intercom system to check in with the other car, and they get a solid minute of silence before Ricky solemnly reports that Matthew’s passed the fuck out. 

Taerae almost pulls over to laugh. 

The other thing that he learns is that when Zhang Hao isn’t being an insane prodigy and performing God, he spends most of his time being one of the most useless people alive. 

He has no sense when it comes to shopping. He’s lazy and cuts corners on the part-time job they accept at the campground. He screams like he’s being slaughtered over a haunted house to the point that Taerae wonders if they actually have a dead body in there. And then he walks through it with Gunwook, and it’s literally perfectly fine. 

“C’mon,” Hao protests, pointing at the screen where Jiwoong is fully rolling around on the floor. “I’m not that bad.” 

Taerae wants to say, no, but you’re pretty close, but Hao also scares him a little, so he doesn’t say anything. He just laughs, soft and quiet, and turns back to the screen. 

The other facts he gathers aren’t as critical, but they’re up there. Ricky’s lips are almost as loose as Matthew’s and it’s deeply funny. Jiwoong cannot string together a coherent sentence half the time. Yujin kind of exists in the clouds and only comes back down to Earth when he has a chance to be a shithead. Gyuvin is surprisingly competent in ways that Taerae didn’t expect, and not at all competent at things he should definitely be more competent in. Gunwook relishes variety in a way that Taerae probably should’ve expected. 

He turns these things over in his head on the ride home, and then in the dorms themselves. He’s tired in a bone-deep way but he can’t stop thinking. But what else is new. 

Zerobaseone. His members. It feels realer now, after KCon and filming for their album and for their variety show. Now that Taerae’s hair is brown again, and Matthew’s is blonde. Things on Boys Planet felt real too, at the time, but Taerae looks back on it the same way he looks back on his church performances. Cute, miniscule, fond. 

He said, on the commentary episode, that Man in Love  was the stage of his dreams. Jung Mingyu compared the entire nightmare of Boys Planet to karaoke. At the time, Taerae had been furious. He apprciates the honesty now. 

After disbandment, will he feel the same? 

“Taerae.” 

“Fuck!” Taerae screams, launching himself about a foot in the air. When he turns around, Hao is doubled over and laughing so hard that he looks like he might cry. “Hao-hyung, what the fuck!?” 

Hao snorts, “You sounded like me there!” He saunters into Taerae’s room and throws himself onto Taerae’s bed. It’s the only bed in their dorm that can definitively be designated to one person, because Taerae is the only person who bothers to stay in his assigned room. 

Taerae shakes his head and tries to scrap the remnants of his dignity back together. “Joining me?” 

Hao asks, “Are you in love with Matthew?” 

Taerae pauses. He can’t quite see Hao’s face. If he makes it obvious that he’s looking, then Hao wins. So, he asks, “Is Hanbin-hyung in love with you?” 

That makes Hao laugh again. A little more rueful, a little more sly. “Hanbin’s in love with the Earth itself,” he says. He doesn’t even sound like he’s trying to be sarcastic. He sounds like he believes it, and he doesn’t understand it, but also like he’s studied it. He sounds like a child who’s memorized a script. He sounds like he’s sulking. “Hanbin would fall in love with a bee even if it stung him, because bees make honey, and what’s not to love about honey?” 

He crosses his arms and stares up at the bunk that sits above Taerae’s head. Again, childish. Taerae feels something click in his head. “Sorry, Hao-hyung, that question wasn’t fair to you.” He makes sure to keep his voice sincere. Honest. Hopefully not to the point of being awful. At least, not this time. 

Hao doesn’t say anything. “Close the door,” he eventually grumbles. Taerae complies, and thinks about the stupid fucking hat that Hao insisted that they buy for Ricky. The hinges creak. The lock clicks. “Okay, well you don’t have to lock it.” 

“I wanted to,” Taerae replies, and he folds himself up on the floor. “I’m in love with Park Hanbin. Matthew makes me want to explode. Are you in love with Hanbin-hyung?” 

There’s a very long pause. “Wow, okay.” Hao starts, sitting up slowly. His face is flushed ruddy and his eyes are blown wide. “That’s– hm.” 

“Hm.” Taerae echoes, grinning. Hao is cute. Disarmingly so. Most of the time, it seems to be intentional. Almost weaponized. When he’s not trying, he’s almost cuter. Hao glares at him, and Taerae kind of wants to bite him. “Wow, hyung you’re cute.” 

“Of course,” Hao scoffs, waving his hand. “Park Hanbin?” 

Taerae shrugs. “Yeah. But I’m getting over it.” 

He doesn’t say, I haven't checked our messages in days, and I don’t hold my breath waiting for his ringtone. He doesn’t say, looks like we’ve both got our own Hanbins to worry about. He doesn’t say, being in love with Matthew might just be an inevitability, at this rate, you’ve seen the fucking guy, he’s insane.  

Actually, “Are you in love with Matthew?” 

Hao looks at Taerae like he’s lost his mind. “It’s Matthew,” he says, like it’s obvious, and in many ways it is. 

“He told me that he’s kissed you on the mouth, before.” Taerae gets up from the floor and sits next to Hao instead. Hao watches him move carefully, like he’s watching a snake slither through the grass. “He also said that he kissed Hanbin-hyung, and Jiwoong-hyung.” 

“Jeez,” Hao mumbles. “Think it’s a Canadian thing?” 

His eyes aren’t as foggy as they were for those first few weeks. He’s planted on the ground more often, but still, Taerae sometimes feels like Hao is a million miles away. Idly, he wonders if that’s how everyone feels looking at him. If they’re surprised by him. If that surprise is tinted by delight or dismay. If he’s not what they expected. If he’s more than what they could’ve asked for. 

Taerae likes where he is with the group, now. Likes that they’re closer. Likes that he’s happier. He likes the fact that he doesn’t think about the others as much, whether it’s because he’s actually moved on or if it’s because he’s simply too busy to spare them a second thought. 

“Hao-hyung, can I kiss you?” Taerae asks, and Hao pulls him in without a second thought. 

This is what Taerae learns from kissing Hao; he likes to be kissed more than he likes kissing, and he likes a little teeth. He likes to be cradled. His edges are softer than expected. His breath is perfectly minty, which means he either anticipated being asked for a kiss or he’s just like that all the time, and both possibilities piss Taerae off a little bit. He makes a show of whining for more instead of just taking it. He wants it to be given. 

Taerae doesn’t give it to him. 

Hao peels his eyes open. “Well you’re definitely not in love with me,” he grumbles, a little petulant. 

Taerae snorts and pulls away, flopping back on his bed. “I don’t know what the fuck I am, hyung.” He sounds absolutely exhausted even though he really isn’t. Not anymore. The bone-deep exhaustion of the trip is there, but his mind is alight with thought. “I’m just kind of here.” 

“Well, where else would you be?” 

That’s... not the reply that Taerae’s expecting. He sits up slowly, curiously. “Huh?” 

“You were only outside the top nine once. At the very start.” Hao says it like it’s obvious. “Everything was kind of locked in at the third elimination.” 

“No the fuck it wasn’t.” Taerae frowns. “Where’s Keita-hyung then?” 

Hao flinches and Taerae immediately regrets it. He forgot that Hao was close to Keita too. “Sorry.” 

“No, I–” Hao sighs and scrubs his hands down his face. He looks at Taerae through his fingers. “Matthew didn’t kiss Keita.” 

Regret fades into confusion. “What?” Taerae asks, and that exhaustion is starting to come back. “Are you using Matthew’s kisses as a litmus test for the group? 

Hao makes a noise of frustration and kicks his foot a little. “I’m not making sense.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

“I wish Rui made it to the finals,” Hao says it in a rush, like he’s scared to be heard. “I kissed him, and he didn’t even pass the third elimination.” 

He gnaws at his lower lip anxiously, bouncing his leg. Taerae doesn’t know what to do. His instinct is to touch, to stop, to soothe. He can’t bring himself to move. “Kiss me again?” He asks instead, and Hao’s eyes are desperate and grateful when he grabs Taerae by the face and does just that. 

That morning, on the second day of KCon, after Matthew finally stopped laughing he had said, “I don’t love you like that.”  

He had giggled as he said it, and then kissed Taerae’s nose right after so again. A lot of mixed signals. Matthew added, grinning lopsidedly, “I can hear you thinking.” He poked Taerae’s forehead for good measure. 

“I’m a T.” Taerae protested, swatting Matthew’s hand away. “And you’re not explaining!” 

“I’m getting to it!” Matthew laughed again, taking another moment to kiss Taerae’s cheek. “Oh please stop making that face, I love you but I’m not in love with you. Don’t worry. You’re not breaking my heart or anything.” 

“Wasn’t worried about that,” Taerae lied. 

Matthew let go entirely and sat up. Which was good. Kissing while lying down was getting awkward, and Taerae rose and followed him. “I don’t have a lot of the right words. A lot of the time. Sometimes I feel like I only learned the wrong ones.” 

Taerae nodded. At that point in time, he hadn’t known what to say, but he felt like he understood Matthew a bit better. So, he gently took one of Matthew’s hands into his own. Matthew paused to smile at him. It felt like someone pulled the curtains open to let the sunlight into their room. “I’ve considered you my friend for a while. And I think you fit just fine into the team,” he said, playing with Taerae’s hand. Taerae started to protest, embarrassed. “No! Listen to me!” 

Fingers prodded at his cheek. His own fingers. Matthew had used his own body against him. “I’m listening,” Taerae huffed. “I’m just also kind of wishing I was dead.” 

“Want me to kiss you again?” Matthew asked, and even after studying his expression again, Taerae couldn’t figure out what the fuck he meant by that. 

“I think I was in love with Park Hanbin,” Taerae said, and that wasn’t what he wanted to say at all. 

He didn’t try to take them back. He just watched them register on Matthew’s face. Slight surprise, but more understanding than anything. Probably a confirmation of something that he already knew. “I think you still might be,” Matthew replied gently, and reached up to cup Taerae’s cheek again. 

“I’m not in love with you.” 

Matthew patted Taerae’s cheek sharply, almost a slap. “I know, but I can kiss you without being in love with you!” He insisted. Taerae laughed, and it was only slightly teary. Still, Matthew continued, in an irritated huff, “I’ve kissed Jiwoong-hyung, and Hao-hyung, and Hanbin-hyung without being in love with them–” 

Taerae’s face must have done something insane, because Matthew fell silent and his expression twisted, cheeks going red. “What’re you trying to say?” He asked, low and dangerous. But, he was Matthew, so it didn’t feel particularly dangerous at all. 

“I didn’t say anything!” Taerae protested, but too late, Matthew’s stupidly big arm had wrapped around his neck and he started shouting out expletives in English and Korean, and they both went toppling off the bed. 

So. That’s how that went. 

The morning after Taerae kisses Hao, Jiwoong asks him if he’s happy. 

For a moment, Taerae is struck with the paralyzing fear that Jiwoong knows, but then he’s passed a cup of coffee and Taerae has to remember that no, Jiwoong is just like this. 

Jiwoong doesn’t perplex him, but he’s interesting to consider. The way he clings to different people on different days. The way he’s given up on maturity and decorum. The way that he’s so happily abandoned the image he carefully curated on Boys Planet. The way that he’s so obviously obsessed with Matthew to the extent that none of them know what to do with it, because technically he’s not doing anything wrong, but he’s certainly doing something. 

Taerae replies with a question of his own; “Are you happy, hyung?” 

“Yeah.” Immediate. No hesitation. It’s a stupid question, really, Taerae will admit. Jiwoong’s happiness glows under his skin. He’s the happiest of all of them. 

Still, Jiwoong doesn’t talk to Taerae like he’s stupid. He’s always indulged Taerae, even when they were on Back Door together and Taerae couldn’t look at him directly without stammering. He smiles and pats Taerae on the shoulder. “I’m very happy.” 

Taerae leans over and kisses him on the mouth. “Sorry,” he says after. He isn’t really. Jiwoong’s eyes are wide and his lips are parted. Taerae honestly wants to kiss him again, but he doesn’t. “Matthew.” 

Jiwoong’s entire face blossoms. “Oh. Yeah,” he chuckles, ducking his head, ears red. Taerae catalogues it. “Yeah. He uh. He does that.” 

“Love Killa?”  

Jiwoong shakes his head. “Round three. Say My Name. His way of saying thank you.” 

Idly, Taerae remembers that he has to ask Hao to get his timeline in order. “He kissed me at KCon. And then he called me his friend.” 

The sparkle in Jiwoong’s eyes is akin to the way that light refracts off of honey. “Yeah. He does that,” he repeats. Taerae could gag at his tone, but he doesn’t, because it’d be rude. 

Taerae takes a deep breath and asks, “If you could, would you replace Matthew with one of your old group members?” Immediately after, he puts his face in his hands and groans. “I wasn’t even thinking that. What the fuck?”  

He tries to apologize but Jiwoong is pulling his hands away before he can grind it out. “That was kind of fucked up,” he snorts, shaking his head. “Crazy thing to ask off the cuff.” 

“Wouldn’t it be crazier if I had been thinking about it for a while?” 

Jiwoong considers this. “Maybe. The answer’s no, by the way.” He squeezes Taerae’s wrist and lets go. “But it’s different. They didn’t join the show. I sent the sign-up around to everyone I still talked to. They wished me luck and that was it.” 

Taerae nods, and awkwardly tacks on, “I’m happy by the way.” 

Then he asks, voice small, like he’s a child, “Is it okay for me to be happy if the people I love aren’t?” 

Jiwoong sits back in his chair and tilts his head. “You know that’s a stupid question.” 

“I do,” Taerae admits. “You going to answer it?” 

Jiwoong laughs. “No? Drink your coffee.” 

Taerae drinks it. “Woah, this is good.” He blinks and then frowns. “Why are you better at making coffee than the barista?” 

From the bathroom, Hanbin-hyung yells, “Hey!” 

In Bloom sucks to perform because it’s hard as shit. New Kidz is worse because Taerae gets a solo for reasons entirely beyond him. 

Their choreographer says, “You give off the feeling of an excited puppy.” 

Taerae protests, “Gyuvin is right there!” Everyone laughs, but he’s more serious than he’s ever been in his entire life. 

Solo choreography. Solo choreography. Not just any solo, but during the bridge, right before the last chorus, on an upbeat song that’s supposed to look like it comes as easy as breathing. For the first time in a long time, Taerae misses Park Hanbin like he misses breathing. 

The thing is this; he could text. Park Hanbin ignores most messages that people send him, but if you send the word ‘dance’, then he’ll be at your door in five minutes flat. Park Hanbin would learn the solo in under an hour and keep Taerae locked in that room until he gets it right. 

Taerae does not text Park Hanbin. He’s resolved not to, never mind the fact that this resolution comes falteringly. 

He goes to Gunwook. 

Gunwook is very happy about this. 

“Well, Taerae-hyung,” he starts, chest puffed up. Taerae slaps his chest and Gunwook deflates, frowning. “Ow.” 

“Gunwook-ssaem,” Taerae sighs. “Please.” 

Thankfully, Gunwook doesn’t fuck around much during the actual practice itself. Taerae knows that if he were Matthew, Gunwook would definitely fuck around a significant amount more, because Matthew likes it. Gunwook is good at that; finding what people like and doing exactly that. With Taerae, he’s clear and sharp and doesn’t waste time with little jokes, but he makes quips and comments that make Taerae laugh in spite of himself. 

Gunwook would also be good for the puppy choreography, Taerae decides. He can practically see Gunwook’s tail wagging after every appreciative noise that Taerae makes. “You’re cute, Gunwook-ah.” 

Again, Gunwook’s cheeks go red and his lips curl. “Of course I am,” he declares, and Taerae imagines that Gunwook’s non-existent tail is thumping against the floor under his words. “But, why do you say so?” 

There’s a lot that Taerae could say about that. You’re really a giant baby would make Gunwook smile wider, because he loves that nickname. It’s cute how much you love praise, is the blatant truth, but it also sounds dismissive. 

The one that Taerae really wants to say is, you look at Ricky and Gyuvin with so much longing that it makes my heart hurt, but that would be a truly evil thing to say to Gunwook. Also, it’d be evil to Ricky and Gyuvin too, respectively. 

He’s watched them triangulate. He’s watched Ricky shrink into himself and come into his own. He’s watched Gyuvin’s long ass arms reach and reach and reach for their entire group and pull them into his chest. He’s watched Gunwook square his shoulders, and stand upright. He’s watched the three of them trickle into each other’s rooms. One after another after another. He’s watched the three of them find each other, all together or in pairs. 

Taerae likes watching them. Even if it makes his chest hurt. Even if it makes him feel a bit like shit. 

He tells Gunwook, “You’re just cute, you know?” 

Gunwook beams with his entire face. The door to the practice room opens. 

“You’re here?” Matthew asks, poking his head in. He almost topples over because Ricky and Gyuvin try to push into the practice room after him, but Matthew doesn’t really say anything to them. That’s another thing about Matthew. He just kind of accepts whatever people do to him. 

Gunwook makes a face at them and says, with intense grandeur, “Are you here to learn from Master Gunwook as well?” 

“I’m here to get a refund,” Ricky announces. Gyuvin chokes on his drink and drops to his knees laughing. “I’m not satisfied with my purchase.” 

“No refunds offered.” 

“You fraud.” They’re both speaking entirely deadpan. Gyuvin looks like he can hardly breathe. 

Matthew frowns and says, “Taerae-yah, you should ask me for help. We’re similar in height so learning from me–” 

“Matthew-yah.” Taerae seethes, because they’ve had this stupid fucking fight before, there are four centimeters between them but Matthew cannot let this go – 

What Taerae doesn’t see, charging at Matthew to jam a finger in his chest and yell at his stupid smiling face, is Ricky and Gunwook and Gyuvin on the floor behind them, exchanging knowing glances. 

It’s not called Taerae Show anymore, because there isn’t really a show to make. Still, Taerae brings his guitar out and sings with it, and Yujin comes and joins him. 

He can’t tell if Yujin is earnestly interested in making music or not, but he’s happy to entertain the kid. Or, rather, let Yujin entertain him. He’s really funny. 

At some point, Yujin stops mid-song and says, “I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.” 

Taerae pales. “You have school tomorrow?” He checks the time. “Shit. Shit, you should’ve been in bed an hour ago!” 

Yujin just pouts. “I don’t wanna,” he whines. “It’s not fair that I have to go to school, and none of you do.” 

“We’re all adults.” 

“Gunwook-hyung isn’t. He’s still a minor.” 

“But he graduated early.” 

“Which isn’t fair,” Yujin huffs, falling back on the couch and sprawling out. Taerae snorts, strumming chords idly. “Who let him graduate early and leave me behind?” 

“The government.” 

Yujin gives Taerae a withering glare. Taerae beams back. “Go to bed Yujin-ah,” he prompts gently. “We’ll still be here when you get back.” 

He says the words so easily that it’s only hours later that he realizes what they mean. It strikes him in the middle of a match, which isn’t good, because he’s trying to raise his rank before their debut because promotions are going to take him out for the next little while. 

Someone over voice chat calls him something homophobic and Taerae snaps back into himself. Too little too late. They lose in the end. 

Which is probably how it’ll go. 

Haruto and Min and Anthonny are gone. Woongki has said that he doesn’t want to stick around. The world won’t stand still for them. Two and a half years is a long time. Yujin will be home for practice. Taerae isn’t even leaving his home, technically. He’s in the house he grew up in. The place he learned to dance. The place he turned his voice into a weapon. The place he tried to kiss Park Hanbin and failed. 

They’ve talked about it vaguely, as a group. Hanbin-hyung is loyal but realistic, and he’s already scouting out other options. Gunwook is uncharacteristically optimistic about going back to Jellyfish. Jiwoong laughed and said he’s got another two-year commitment waiting for him. 

Taerae hasn’t thought about it much at all. Because again. It’s not like he has to plan his way back home. He’ll just have to let the rest of them go. 

Taerae blinks at his screen. He’s standing over Matthew’s bed again before he can even think about it. 

Matthew’s sharing his room with Hanbin-hyung today, which is a little ironic, but Taerae doesn’t think about it. He just crawls in behind Matthew, wrapping his body around his friend. He’s not trying to wake Matthew up, and he doesn’t expect to, because Matthew sleeps like the fucking dead, but he gets a startled snuffle for his efforts. “Taerae?” 

“Hey,” Taerae whispers. His heart is beating too quick. He should say, go back to bed, but he doesn’t even try to. “Promise you’ll still be friends with me after we disband?” 

Matthew snorts. “Duh,” he mumbles, and then after a few seconds, he starts to snore.  

Taerae smiles, kisses his neck, and closes his eyes as well. 

Taerae maybe loses his mind at Jeju-do. Just a little bit. He blames the paragliding. 

He’s not even sure what the fuck happens to him. He gets to Jeju-do, and he smells the salt in the air and sees the endless miles of ocean and it’s like his brain breaks in half. It’s where it hits him. Finally, completely, entirely in full. 

You’re going to debut with the people you love. That list of people is very different than what it was six months ago.  

He’s so emotional that he goes and apologizes to Ricky, both on the rolling papers and in person. He does the same to Gyuvin, but where Ricky received it with a soft smile and open arms, Gyuvin just blinks and frowns. 

“You didn’t like me!?” He asks, flabbergasted. “I thought everyone was just being mean to me!” 

Taerae stares at him. “Gyuvin, I was terrible to you. I was so mean.” 

Gyuvin scoffs. “I have little siblings. I didn’t even register what you said as mean.” He doesn’t seem to notice the fact that Taerae is left reeling from the implication of being Gyuvin’s little sibling, bull-dozing right to his next question. “What did I do to make you so mad in the first place?” 

And. Well, Taerae should’ve expected this question. It still makes him hesitate, and Gyuvin’s face falls. “No-!” Taerae panics, and then sighs. He drags Gyuvin down to whisper in his ear. 

Taerae’s face is hot when he’s done. Gyuvin looks like he’s losing his mind. “The zipper thing?” He chokes, clearly trying not to laugh. What’s even clearer is how badly he’s failing at it. “That- hyung-” 

Taerae sighs miserably. Gyuvin squats and puts his head between his legs and shakes silently from how hard he laughs. 

Taerae’s practically dizzy by the time he’s dragged to the interview. He’s not making sense as he talks, and he can see the PD’s frown settle deeper on her face the more he rambles. He wants to apologize, but also funnier for him not to, so Taerae just goes and goes and goes-- 

And then he stops. 

Because Matthew’s standing behind the camera, backlit by the sunset. His golden hair looks like it’s melting into the sky. He looks like the sun itself. He’s smiling, a soft and small thing. Smiling at Taerae directly.  

Taerae starts crying. 

“A warm feeling,” he chokes out, still stammering through nonsense, ignoring the way that every single onlooker reacts, shifting and straightening. Matthew’s eyes widen. He looks ready to run to Taerae directly. Taerae sniffles and smiles weakly at the camera and not at Matthew. “Something like that.” 

I love you, Taerae thinks as he walks away and Matthew catches up to him. I love you, Taerae thinks as Matthew pulls him aside and thumbs his tears away. I love you, Taerae thinks as Matthew takes his hands and asks if he’s okay. 

Taerae asks again, weaker this time, “Can we be friends, Matthew-yah?” 

Matthew’s mild concern deepens. “We are friends.” He presses the back of his hand to Taerae’s head. “You’re not feverish, what–” 

Taerae chokes out a laugh and pulls Matthew in close. “You stupid F-types are rubbing off on me,” he sniffles, and he can feel the tension drain from Matthew’s shoulders. He doesn’t know if Matthew gets it. He doesn’t want Matthew to get it. He feels so happy that he could die. “This group is bad for my blood pressure.” 

Matthew laughs openly at that. His golden hair has been warmed by the sun. “You love us,” he teases, and then panics when that just makes Taerae start to cry harder. 

They get mobbed at the airport on the way home. It’s bad.  

Matthew is shaking with anger when they climb in the car. “What about the others?” He asks, voice breaking, looking anxiously out the door. The two of them escaped the worst of it. The others haven’t yet. “What about-” 

Taerae took the very back while Matthew’s in the middle. All he can do is reach over the seats and squeeze Matthew’s shoulder. “I know. I know,” is all he can say, and they hold their breath until everyone catches up. 

In the end, Taerae’s in the back corner with Ricky on his right, and Gunwook on Ricky’s right. He’s nervous for the aftermath, but exhaustion trumps the terror and adrenaline. Most of them are asleep soon enough. Taerae isn’t among them. 

Not because of anxiety. Strangely enough, even though this is the worst mobbing that they’ve experienced, he’s the calmest that he’s ever been. Sad, and scared, but calm. 

His phone lights up with a text when Ricky’s given up on trying to lean on his shoulder, instead nuzzling his cheek into Gunwook’s arm instead. Taerae glances at them sideways with a smile, something he can barely believe that he’s able to muster after everything that’s happened. 

It doesn’t stay for long. Taerae opens his phone and sees a message from Park Hanbin (WakeOne). The preview is short; ‘Hey, I saw what…’ 

Taerae swallows and looks up. Finds Matthew’s golden hair in the dim light of the van, like a beacon of light. He’s asleep, of course. Matthew takes two minutes to sleep anywhere. He has one arm around Yujin’s shoulders and a pinch to his brow. Taerae aches to smooth it away. 

He takes a deep breath and opens the message. 

Park Hanbin (WakeOne)  

Hey, I saw what happened at the airport. 

You guys okay? 

That was intense. 

You  

Now you decide to text? 

Taerae winces. That wasn’t what he intended to say. His thumbs moved faster than his brain, there. 

Park Hanbin (WakeOne)  

ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ 

okay i deserved that 

sorry. licking my wounds 

you know how it is 

or i guess you don’t 

mister celebrity 

You  

where’d that sympathy go huh? 

apologize again for abandoning me 

He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he hears himself laugh. It feels wrong, it should be wrong. To smile while his hands still shake from fear, to laugh through tears in his eyes as his chest cracks open again. The same cavern that’s been tearing through him for years now. The same old ache that he knows will never go away. 

Once upon a time, it might have. Maybe, once upon a time, Hanbin and Taerae shared a bed in Japan. Maybe, once upon a time, it was Hanbin clinging to Taerae’s shoulders as they tore through a mob of fans. Maybe they faced this together, in another world. Maybe Taerae should long more for it, all things considered. 

He doesn’t. He’s still shaking, and his heart still feels shattered in his chest. 

Taerae snorts at the pathetic sticker that Hanbin sends, and finds one that’s just as bad to send back. 

They debut. They chart. They win on a music show. Taerae kisses Jiwoong, and then Hanbin-hyung, and then Hao again, and he kisses Matthew between all of them. 

“I’m not in love with you,” Taerae says each time, to all of them. Jiwoong blinks, Hanbin-hyung laughs, Hao rolls his eyes, and Matthew says, cheeky and sly, “Thank God.”  

At the end of promotions, both of them get fucking COVID. Taerae laughs himself sick when they get their tests back. “How can you laugh,” Matthew sulks from the bed. He’s been sulking on the bed ever since they got dropped off at their hotel to quarantine. Taerae’s been laughing on and off for even longer. “We might miss the festival!” 

There’s a lot that Taerae could say to that. I’m glad that it’s you, because I can kiss you, is chief among the things that he wants to say more than anything but absolutely cannot under any circumstances at all. Lower on that list is, at least we get a break for once, WakeOne would never have let us rest otherwise, which is just barely beaten out by, do you think they’ll bring us condoms if we ask?  

Taerae doesn’t say anything at all. He just looks at Matthew’s flushed cheeks and miserable expression again and starts laughing harder. I’m glad you’re my best friend, he thinks, and he doesn’t say that either. 

He doesn’t have to. That can stay unspoken. It’s so obvious, after all. 

The Guide and I into that hidden road 

Now entered, to return to the bright world; 

And without care of having any rest 

We mounted up, he first and I the second, 

Till I beheld through a round aperture 

Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear; 

Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars.