Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was early morning at dawn when the sun had barely peeked out of the skies when the members were up and awake before filming a stage performance at a music show. At least, mostly everyone.

Hansol was nodding off to sleep while his face was still being peppered and prodded with brushes. He slept late again not of his own volition; it was the movie’s fault it had been so good, there was no way Hansol was going to sleep ten minutes before the climax. But the makeup-noona that was touching up concealer in the most inconspicuous of spots simply twisted her torso around. He really needed to sleep earlier.

At that point, Hansol had been too far gone, and the next time his eyes opened, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you noona, ah, uh—”

Instead of the makeup-noona or his manager facing him, it was Seungkwan. His face was close, dangerously close, next to Hansol’s. Hansol’s grogginess dissipated a lot sooner than expected.

“Here.” Seungkwan’s voice was gravelly, as if he’d just woken up. He gave Hansol a can of coffee, one that you would get at the vending machine. Hansol looked at Seungkwan’s hand and back up at him, but could do nothing and nod.

It was too early to have palpitations, was it? He hadn’t even drunk the coffee yet.

Without saying a word, Hansol slid off the makeup chair for Seungkwan to go get his face done. But he stood still dumbly, the condensation of the coffee dripping into his palm.

True: Hansol wasn’t as close to Seungkwan as he used to be.

Also true: Hansol missed Seungkwan.

Green walls surrounded them, staring them down as the trainees practiced. Sweat dripped down on the floor, the humidity fogging the mirrors as each trainee relentlessly practiced like their lives depended on it. It did in a way.

Hansol wasn’t a very sociable kid. It had taken him a considerate amount of time to start talking and being comfortable in his own skin around these groups of people he would call friends. If not friends, perhaps future bandmates. Still, the point was that it took Hansol a great deal of time to begin trying to become friends with someone.

It wasn’t until he met Boo Seungkwan would he realize he was very wrong with himself.

Heartbeats pounded in Hansol’s ear, only being drowned out by the music that blasted in his in-ears. He danced, rapped, danced some more, sang, and posed for the ending. Fans waved their lightsticks, brightening up the dark crowd. Even with such a glow as that though, Hansol stole a half of a second to glance at Seungkwan.

Light shone on Seungkwan as he too did the ending pose, light sweat sticking his bangs to his forehead from the times they’ve repeated it. Nobody in the crowd would notice that detail though, not even the camera, but Hansol could see the strands of hair that waved and curled across Seungkwan’s head, stuck. As though determination wasn’t enough to be said but rather to show itself, make itself known.

And under the light, Seungkwan seemed to shine brighter than any crowds that filled the stadiums they toured for.

There was a twist in his gut, wrenching it and squeezing it tight to hurt—Hansol wouldn’t say those thoughts out loud. Again and again, he would keep these thoughts to himself, even if they spoke of the world ending or heavens befalling them.

Maybe the movies were getting to his head.

After they said their thanks to the fans, the team left for backstage, where they would change and be prepped again for any other schedule they had in their day. That day, they didn’t have a schedule until later, but it wasn’t so soon that they needed to move quickly, nor was it too late that they could unwind and relax at home. It was a weird limbo.

The members moved sluggishly, and Hansol was too tired to register he had bumped into someone.

Then, he smelled cinnamon.

Seungkwan changed his shampoo.

“Vernon?”

Hadn’t stepped away and was still stuck, bumped, against Seungkwan. Immediately, he stepped to the side.

“Did you sleep late again?” Seungkwan gave him an easy smile.

But all Hansol could think of was Seungkwan calling him Vernon again and again in his head. Vernon. Why can’t you call me Hansol?

“I did sleep late.”

As if a lightbulb switched on, Seungkwan snapped his fingers. “Oh! I saw a new movie trending again. Was it that?”

You know me too well. Hansol nodded. Seungkwan would always know him too well.

“You always know the best movies, Vernon.”

Why are we so far apart?

But Seungkwan had already entered the waiting room, leaving Hansol like an idiot staring at his back. He pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind and tuned it out.

It was easy to tune everything out anyways. As per usual, Hansol changed quite quickly and stuck one earbud in one ear and another in the other ear. Steady tunes filled the once noisy surroundings, taming it down for Hansol to be able to listen.

As songs shuffled one into the other, he found a familiar song. It had been familiar.

Hansol wasn’t sure if it still was.

It was late at night when the younger members still had to attend school the next day even after drying their muscles sore from energy to move. Moving from their practice room to the dorms was annoying to young Hansol, even if he didn’t want to fall asleep in the place where it only smelled like sweat.

Seungkwan was beside him, laying down on the ground where they started cooling off, but decided to abandon the stretches to do…what exactly?

But Hansol didn’t really stress on the details. The details didn’t really matter. This was okay. This was nice, he thought.

As he turned his head to look at Seungkwan who laid parallel to him, the thought repeated itself.

“I hate school.” Seungkwan complained, his lips forming into a pout Hansol started to take note of, along with the other small things Seungkwan would do. Hansol thought to himself that this would be a good way to become a good friend. Paying attention was good.

“Me too.” Hansol replied. His replies usually were short and succinct, only filled up moments later by Seungkwan.

“If we were able to inject our brains with hyper-concentrated lessons, we wouldn’t need to study at all. Wouldn’t that be nice? I think it would.” Seungkwan said.

Hansol nodded. He looked at Seungkwan again. He took more notes.

“You know if I had the time to study, I would be the top of my class. But my potential is being overshadowed by training.” Seungkwan used his hands a lot when talking.

“And it’s just frustrating because I know I could do more, but I can’t slack off training. You know?”

Seungkwan’s voice rose and tensed when he talked about things he hated talking about.

“I just wish I could do both. I don’t want to fall behind.”

Seungkwan liked to look into Hansol’s eyes.

Hansol took note.

“I don’t think you’re falling behind.”

Seungkwan brightened, a grin that reached both ends of his ears appearing. “You think so, ‘Sol?”

“Mhm.” He really did.

“Okay. Well,” Seungkwan coughed because even if he could fill a whole conversation by himself, he still was just a kid who sometimes ran out of things to say and could only cover it up by awkwardly coughing. Hansol laughed.

Instead of saying the appropriate ‘thank you’, Seungkwan instead got his iPod from his pocket, earphones already attached to it.

“Want to listen to my new favorite song?”

Both of them stuck one bud each into their ears. They continued to lay side by side with each other. Hansol could feel their knees touching, just barely, and their shins warming each other through the contact.

It was a pop song. A very normal Western pop song. But when Hansol listened to the lyrics because he knew Seungkwan couldn’t, he wondered how could anyone write anything like that. Such thoughts and feelings about love, so vulnerably etched into a track that contained the artist’s deepest feeling. The artist’s voice rang like timber, sorrow yet happy, melancholic yet upbeat.

And when he turned his head to look at Seungkwan again, he found the other smiling with his eyes closed, listening and feeling the music. Hansol would do the same, but…

But.

One day, Hansol thought, one day he would write something like this. He would feel something as deeply as this and create a masterpiece out of it.

But for now, he continued to look at Seungkwan while the other didn’t, hoping to steal a few more glances before they had to go home.

If he thinks, Hansol could trace back the rift to one specific moment: December, during their first year of debut.

By no means was Hansol stupid, far from that, but at the time he seemed to believe things would stay the same. That he would stay the same—that Seungkwan would.

It was the end of the year and the schedule had been busier than ever. Year-end award shows, music shows, Christmas performances—Seventeen weren’t exactly the hotshot back then, but they still had to show up. And they were exhausted—all of them.

Even in his weary mind Hansol only seemed to think about Seungkwan.

Seungkwan had been running around in variety shows, asking them to promote their small, hopeful group in whatever means necessary. Any other person would have been embarrassed to keep asking every MC they come across to let them perform their comeback, but Seungkwan wasn’t.

It was evident in his eyes that sported new sets of bags and dark circles and the way he would try to laugh as hard as he could without even needing to.

But Hansol knew Seungkwan. At least he thought he did.

The lonely hours after award shows were the hardest. They’d gone and won several rookie awards that year and celebrated together, but Hansol could feel his palms cold against his skin as he tried to walk around the desolate, yet busy streets of Seoul. After they’d win, what would come after them. Would they win more? Would they finally get the attention they wished for so bad? Thoughts like these ran through Hansol’s mind, young and unknowing.

Seungkwan was there.

“Why did you ask me to hang out suddenly?” Seungkwan said, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Hansol tried to go and do the same, but his hands shook in his pockets restless, so he opted to just let them swing normally (though it wasn’t a big difference).

“Can I not ask you to hang out?” Hansol replied, playful yet underneath, serious. Seungkwan looked like death cooped up in the dorm.

Seungkwan hid his face beneath a scarf. “Mm. You can.” His voice came muffled.

Hansol looked at him and laughed. He reached out for Seungkwan’s shoulder and held him close. The restlessness disappeared easily.

Seungkwan was always so easy to hold.

“What should we do?” Hansol asks.

Seungkwan shook his arm off him—Hansol resisted trying to feel the loss of warmth. “Agh, you asked me to hang out and you didn’t even have a plan?” Seungkwan said, punching Hansol lightly as a joke.

“I do have one, I swear!” Hansol couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay then show it to me!” Seungkwan did not believe him.

As they roamed the streets near their dorms, not safe from bickering and talking like no one could hear them, Hansol ended up leading the two to a lonely photobooth in the middle of the street. He didn’t have a plan for this, but he tried to adjust his voice to make it seem like h did. Seungkwan knew better.

“Does this thing even work?” Seungkwan asked, but lifted the curtain to step inside anyway.

“I mean it lights up. That’s enough.”

“Do you have money?”

Hansol gave Seungkwan his wallet. It looked sad when opened—only a few thousand won and just a handful of coins.

As the two situated inside the cramped booth, Hansol glanced at Seungkwan. For some reason, he could feel Seungkwan’s warmth covering his, his body like a beacon. They’ve changed a little. Seungkwan still had baby fat, but it wasn’t as much as before. And Hansol grew a few centimeters taller than the last time he measured. They were still the same, but even like this they’ve changed.

To himself, Hansol tried to calm his pounding heart.

“AH, its starting! Smile, smile!” Seungkwan said, tugging Hansol close so they were stuck together. Hansol quipped a smile quickly but looked at the screen instead of the camera lens.

It was a laughable picture. Hansol couldn’t even get a smile in time while Seungkwan moved too much that he looked like he was in the middle of bursting out loud. Hansol smiled fondly as Seungkwan clamored about how he looked. Yet it didn’t look horrible—Seungkwan didn’t look horrible.

Seungkwan looked beautiful.

“Attention! It’s starting!”

This time, Seungkwan had gone ahead and made a heart overhead with his arms. Hansol did the same, and the photo turned out to be an improvement from the last. Seungkwan laughed. It sounded like music.

The third picture, they both did peace signs with Seungkwan doing a big, cute gesture, and Hansol just sticking his hands up in a V.

“Why do you look so cool?” Seungkwan muttered. Hansol could feel his stomach doing a flip; at that point, the sensation was familiar to him as long as it was Seungkwan.

Without expecting it, Seungkwan rung his arm over Hansol’s shoulder on his tippy toes. “Kiss my cheek! Kiss my cheek!”

There was a tug in his stomach. Hansol looked at him, unsure of what to do. How could Seungkwan say that so easily? His heart already threatened to jump out of his throat, and Seungkwan’s bright eyes that seemed to erase his tiredness looked so beautiful. It was almost like giving meat to a tiger just right outside its cage.

“Okay.” Was all Hansol ended up saying before leaned down to reach Seungkwans height and placed his hands on the other side of Seungkwan’s cheek—his lips onto Seungkwan’s cheek. His eyes fluttered shut by instinct.

He wanted it to be over quickly. But at the same time, he wished it had continued for so, so much longer.

But it had come and gone and Hansol could only stare at Seungkwan’s back as he retrieved the photo that was being printing, only whirring sounds echoing in their small corner of the world.

“Look! You were smiling.” Seungkwan showed him the picture.

It was true. In the very last photo of the strip, Hansol had his eyes closed, holding Seungkwan so gently with so much fondness in his eyes as he kissed him, lips stretched into a smile while Seungkwan winked one of his eyes into his own smile, leaning his body into Hansol’s. If anyone else looked at this, it would look like…

Hansol would look like…

“’Sol?”

He was so stupid.

So, so stupid.

Without thinking twice, or even once, Hansol went ahead and held Seungkwan’s face in with both hands, the warmth in his skin paling in comparison as the warmth he felt when he pressed his lips against Seungkwan’s.

It lasted for a good five seconds. Five seconds, Hansol could cherish the feeling, the taste, Seungkwan’s lips. It seemed like the older of the two almost had his eyes closed. Hansol hoped.

But Seungkwan pushed him off. Seungkwan pushed him off.

Hansol was sometimes stupid. But he was especially stupid in this moment, as he only stood there, dumbly, while Seungkwan was presed against the wall in the opposite side. As far away from him as he possibly could while he raised a hand to cover his mouth.

“’Kwan, I’m sorry. I didn’t—it was a mistake.”

“I’m—I gotta go, Vernon.”

Vernon.

Vernon.

Hansol ran out of the booth, trying to stop Seungkwan from running away before he could fix this, say it was a misunderstanding, but Seungkwan was already ten steps ahead, his feet heavy and fast on the concrete while Hansol could only stare and watch.

He had gone and done it.

He had gone and fucked it up.

“…Fuck!” He cursed in English, kicking the ground. There was nothing to kick.

He squatted down to the small road where the only ways he could go was to go farther away or to run after Seungkwan. In the end, without any warmth in his trembling fingers, he squatted in the middle of the empty street, tears rushing out hot.

With trainee life overtaking them from sleep, rest, and any sort of resemblance to a normal teenage youth, naturally the younger trainees would wonder what it was like to date.

Hansol didn’t really care, but Seungkwan did, so it mattered.

The older members, like Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua had already had their first kiss taken. Jihoon’s was by Seungcheol, so Hansol wouldn’t really count it.

There was no time (or no way) Hansol would ever kiss someone. There weren’t many people who approached him, and the numbers of those who had a crush on him was near zero.

It was fine.

He guessed.

He looked at Seungkwan, who was grumbling about the topic with Soonyoung as he stretched his legs. Hansol was doing the same, but he barely looked at his own form; he watched Seungkwan in an almost-split, reaching forward to stretch his back with Soonyoung’s help. Immediately, Hansol looked away.

“How ‘bout you, ‘Sol?” Seungkwan turned his head to Hansol.

He pointed at himself. “Me?”

“Yeah, if you ever had your first kiss.”

“I did by the way.” Soonyoung piped in impatiently.

“I know that. It was Seokmin-hyung wasn’t it?”

“What! No! It was Seungcheol-hyung.”

“Is Seungcheol-hyung going to stop kissing our members?”

“I asked for it.”

“Can you shut up? Hansol didn’t even answer the question yet.” Seungkwan said.

Hansol replied. “No, I never did.”

It was almost of surprise—almost relieved— the way Seungkwan looked at him. There was something in his eyes the way they met his that almost singled him out of anyone in the room.

“Me too.” Seungkwan replied.

Soonyoung stretched his legs into a full split. “You guys should ask Seungcheol.”

Then the moment was over. Seungkwan shoved his hyung, ears reddening at the tip. “Ew, gross!”

Who would he kiss? Or let take his first kiss? They were a room full of boys, all teenagers without much of a direction in life except for the want to debut. He never thought of lovers, or kisses, or anything mushy like that. He wasn’t sure if he could make himself meet up a random girl to date. So, out of the people he knew, who would he kiss?

His eyes always seemed to land on Seungkwan’s.

“Are you really that desperate to have your first kiss taken?” Soonyoung said.

“Yes!”

Hansol gulped, focusing on his legs.

“Then you should ask your dear Hansol here,” Immediately at the mention of his name, Hansol straightened up, his face morphed into one of shock, yet he couldn’t actually say any words.

“Better to kiss someone you know anyway than some rando.”

For a second, Hansol and Seungkwan’s eyes met.

Him, kissing Seungkwan?

Kissing Seungkwan?

The more he thought about it, the more it didn’t seem as outlandish as he thought. He could never imagine himself kissing a random girl. But Seungkwan…wasn’t that bad of an idea. Kissing Seungkwan was okay.

An image of him pecking Seungkwan’s lips popped into his head. Hansol felt his face burn, so he shook the thoughts from his head away.

“No way! Hansol’s like, my best friend. I need to kiss a girl. I’ve got lots of girls have a crush on me at school.”

“Are you seriously just going to come up to one of your admirers and kiss them because you wanted your first kiss taken? Dumbass.” Soonyoung said.

“I…” Seungkwan looked at Hansol again. His gaze burned.

“Whatever, hyung. You wouldn’t get it.”

Hansol licked his lips. They were dry.

Hansol was next to record after Seungkwan. Jihoon sat in the control room, speaking into the mic every now and then to give his feedback. So as Seungkwan sang into the mic, Hansol sat there, watching him. Not like he had anywhere else to look. Not like he really wanted to practice his lines.

While the two took a break from recording for Seungkwan to practice his lines more, Jihoon spun his chair around.

“What’s with you two?”

Hansol set down the printed lyrics (he hadn’t practiced them at all). Even with his cap on his head, he could see Jihoon was still looking at him.

“I don’t know what you mean hyung.” Hansol, definitely, definitely knew what he meant.

But what could he do about it? They were still friends, but it had been years since they started drifting. At this point, Hansol would like to point the blame to the years. Some friends do grow apart after some time. Or maybe it was just defeated comfort for himself.

“’Non. Come on. You know.”

Jihoon had become one of Hansol’s closest hyungs recently. Even though both of them were silent and rarely expressed their true feelings, they understood each other better.

Maybe it was the theme of lyrics Hansol had started writing recently, both for himself and for the group. Lyrics about love. Lyrics about heartbreak. Lyrics about yearning. Lyrics about being left behind.

Maybe it was because Jihoon was a producer and understood that songs could be a diary to a producer, a genuine expression of their heart that no one else would understand. Maybe because of that Jihoon understood what went on his mind better than he did—better than Seungkwan at that point. His heart tugged, a bittersweet taste on his tongue.

But he didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. “Hyung, please. I just—”

“’Non, this is getting out of hand. Me and your other hyungs, we never said a word, but we just can’t stand the two being like this.” Jihoon usually spoke in the same tone of voice, but Hansol knew it was concern.

Could he really get out of this?

“Hyung, we’re fine.”

But were they really? They were fine. They were kind of fine.

“I don’t know what happened to the two of you, but it wasn’t this bad, and now you have to talk to him. You can’t keep running away.”

They were okay.

Hansol gripped the paper in his hand. “I’m not running—”

“I’m good now, Woozi-hyung.” Seungkwan’s voice crackled from the other side. Hansol looked at Seungkwan, who looked at Hansol. Immediately, his eyes darted away to look at Jihoon, and Hansol looked down at his feet.

Was this tight feeling in his chest ever going to go away?

Jihoon let his eyes linger on Hansol, like a reminder; a warning: talk to me later, don’t run away, before speaking into the intercom again. “Go ahead. I’ll start where you left off?”

“Yup, thank you.”

Jihoon spoke without turning.

“I’m serious ‘Non. It’s not good. This may sound mean, but I am still your hyung.”

Hansol looked down at the lyrics. It was a love song, one about the narrator’s lover drifting away from them, the rift between them almost impossible to cross. He helped with the lyrics. He wrote one of the verses.

“I care about you.”

The outside world was getting too difficult to bear, so Hansol tugged his cap lower to hide his eyes and closed them.

Their first kiss went like this:

One day in the dorm when it was too late to be awake but everyone still was anyways, Hansol and Seungkwan were side-by-side on the bottom bunk, even though Hansol could very well just go to his own bed above Seungkwan’s. But they were lying, squeezed together until Hansol’s left side felt like it could burn. But it was comfortable.

They were listening to Hansol’s music this time. Before Seungkwan stuffed the right earbud into his ear, he was running his mouth off on Hansol and how ‘Hansol’s so pretentious. Your music taste isn’t even better than mine!’ but he still ended up listening anyways.

The thing was, Hansol made a playlist just for Seungkwan. It was full of songs he searched and tried to find, so even if it was his playlist, it was full of songs Hansol thought Seungkwan would like. Luckily, he did.

Seungkwan was strumming his legs up and down on the bed to the beat and Hansol laughed in reply, laying his own legs over Seungkwan’s to stop it. In retaliation, the younger just escaped from Hansol’s hold and put his legs on top. Thus, their leg war started.

“Quiet!” A low voice, gravelly from sleep, said. It was Seungcheol.

Hansol and Seungkwan looked at each other for a second before bursting into giggles.

“Quiet.” Seungkwan said in a mock-whisper with fluctuations in his voice.

“You guys are so loud.” Hansol mocked as well. As if Seungcheol wasn’t loud himself.

 They giggled again before listening to the music.

But then Seungkwan slotted his fingers into Hansol’s. It was warm. It fit him perfectly. Hansol gave it a squeeze, as if to say ‘I’m here, I’m not going anywhere’. And Seungkwan gave one back, as if to say ‘Me too.’

They were simple like that. Simple tastes, simple likes, simple wants. Hansol simply wanted this, and he thought Seungkwan was the same.

But then Seungkwan stood up, pulling the earphones out of his ears in the process. Hansol looked up at him from his position lying down, confused. Then, Seungkwan circled around to reach Hansol’s side of the bed and held out a hand.

“Hansol.”

Who was Hansol to deny?

“Okay.”

He left the bed, abandoning the music. It didn’t really matter anyways; he could just make another playlist. As long as Seungkwan was there to seek him out, he would follow.

Holding Seungkwan’s hand, Hansol followed as the other lead him farther, to a corner of the dorm that didn’t have anyone. Their dorm was small and there was never enough privacy, but everyone knew the small closet that held the washing machine and dryer was the only room that could ever give them privacy.

As Seungkwan clicked the door shut, and even locked the door with a turn, Hansol still didn’t know what this whole ordeal was about. Maybe Seungkwan was going to tell him a secret. Maybe it was the names of the girls he said had a crush on him. Maybe he kissed someone already.

There was an awkward cough. Seungkwan rubbed his chest—habits that Vernon noticed he did whenever he was nervous, and coughed again. Wait, was that a blush on Seungkwan’s cheeks?

“You remember what Soonyoungie-hyung said.”

Hansol nodded slowly. “I guess? He kissed Seungcheol.”

“Idiot! No, I meant the…the…” Seungkwan pursed his lips.

Hansol noted that Seungkwan’s lips looked very plump.

“The?”

“Kissing. Thing. You know.” Seungkwan said. He already said the ‘k’ word (kissing) but couldn’t continue the rest of the sentence. But Hansol remembered. He just didn’t want to be the one to say it.

“You want me to be your first kiss?” Hansol said.

It was getting stuffy in there.

“Yes! Wait, I mean—” Seungkwan held his face with both hands. If his face was light pink before, it was full-on red now. Hansol hoped he wasn’t the same, but he was sure he donned the same heat in his skin.

Seungkwan groaned. “I don’t know how to kiss.”

Hansol thought. The sentence processed in his head.

I don’t know how to kiss.

I want to do the kissing thing.

I want you to help me understand how to kiss.

Hansol can kiss Seungkwan.

“And like, if you remember what Soonyoung-hyung said, it’s like…it’s…” Seungkwan burned brighter and brighter with each word.

Hansol never really thought too deeply about it. Based from the movies and words around him, he was supposed to like a girl. He never really got crush on a girl though; he named a couple of girls in his class as his crush before, but he didn’t really think he ever got the butterflies and the twists in his stomach. He didn’t think it was a real sensation anyways.

But as Seungkwan looked at his feet, still stumbling over the words he was trying to say, Hansol felt the weird, flutting feeling in his gut that made him want to run ten miles without stopping.

And Seungkwan was biting his lips.

“You want me to practice kissing with you?” Hansol decided to say—for the both of them.

Seungkwan covered his face with the curve of his arm. “Don’t say it like that, ‘Sol! I’m so embarrassed, you don’t even know.”

You don’t even know either, Seungkwan.

“But do you want me to?” Hansol said.

Then, a slow nod.

Then of course Hansol would.

“I’m not like—I just want to learn how to. You know it’d be real embarrassing trying to kiss a girl and then you’re just—I don’t even know what to do with my hands and it’s keeping me up at night—”

“’Kwan, just…” Hansol said, holding Seungkwan’s hands down from moving and flailing. Instantly, Seungkwan calmed down.

“Okay. I’ll calm. I promise.” Seungkwan was still red in the face.

“What are we supposed to do with our hands? Like that was what I was worrying about…and…” Seungkwan trailed.

Hansol watched a lot of movies before. Action, thriller, horror, and romance. He didn’t watch that much romance, but the romance he’s watched taught him a thing or two about how to do this.

First, you hold the other person’s face.

“I think it’s like this.” Seungkwan froze under Hansol’s touch. Hansol’s hands cupped Seungkwan’s cheeks, his fingers holding the face he seemed to be staring at with every chance he got. The touch was burning.

Next, you look into the other person’s eyes.

Seungkwan had very brown eyes. Big, brown eyes. He was so pretty.

“Um, Hansol, you don’t have to if you don’t want. You can still back out and save your first kiss for someo—”

Then, you kiss them.

It was quick and innocent—Hansol never did it before either. But at the same time, even with his young, teenage heart that has never known anything of love, it felt so right.

This close, Hansol could smell Seungkwan’s shampoo. His hair tickled Hansol’s face, smelling sweetly of lavender. It smelled nice. It suited Seungkwan. And Seungkwan’s lips were chapped, just like Hansol’s, but they molded to Hansol’s as they pressed their lips into one another’s.

Hansol didn’t know if that was the proper way of doing it—he’d seen the couples in movies kiss deeper, twist their heads, and do much more with their hands. But for now, it was perfect like that.

After a few more seconds, Hansol parted from Seungkwan, opening his eyes to see Seungkwan’s eyes shut tight and close, almost looking like he had been bracing for the impact. But his cheeks were rosy and hot to the touch—his hands were still on Seungkwan’s face—and his eyelashes were fanned on his cheeks. Wisps of eyelashes Hansol wanted to touch.

“Not too bad, right?” Hansol chuckled.

Slowly, Seungkwan opened his eyes. Hansol dropped his hands (he didn’t want to) and scratched his nape. A slow grin spread on Seungkwan’s lips, mirroring one Hansol already had.

“Yeah. Not too bad.” Seungkwan said, still shaking and jittering but he was smiling.

“Should I…again?”

Seungkwan giggled, pursing his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

True: Hansol really liked kissing Seungkwan.

Also true: Hansol wished he didn’t.

“Dude, you look like you’re going to eat him alive.” Hansol whipped his head up to find Joshua leaning down near his ear, a warning in voice sounding like he has to fix his act up. He probably should.

“Shua.”

They were at music video shoot. The theme for this comeback was a lot different from the usually energetic comebacks they’d have. It was dark and sensual, like fingers gripping against skin and heat against heat, yet still mysterious and gritty. Like a thriller movie that still somehow made itself seem like a tragic, dark romance. It was difficult—especially for Hansol.

Hansol and Jisoo were going to film additional solo shots after it was Seungkwan’s turn. So that meant either going around to eat—Hansol didn’t feel like standing up to get his own food—or to wait patiently for your turn.

Joshua was holding Hansol’s shoulder as if he would run off and do something stupid. Younger Hansol would, not him.

“I know you aren’t gonna do anything stupid,” Was Hansol that readable? “But Seungkwan told me a while ago that he was getting conscious.”

Conscious?

“Of me?” Hansol asked, hoping the stutter in his heart wouldn’t show in his voice. He was afraid of what Joshua might say; he knew what Joshua would say.

“Yes.” Hansol’s heart dropped.

Okay, so maybe Hansol was looking at Seungkwan too intently. He couldn’t help it. He just looked so mesmerizing. The glitter in his eyes, the shine on his lips, and the sash-corset that was pulled on his waist that he almost thought the stylists had a vendetta against him. It burned him. It melted his skin.

But that didn’t mean Seungkwan had to be conscious of Hansol. It was just Hansol. Or maybe he was—he wouldn’t know that Hansol wasn’t thinking anything bad of him (Hansol never did). Seungkwan didn’t know Hansol as much as he used to. His eyes faced at his shoes instead (even though he would rather look at something better).

“It’s okay, Vernon. You know how Seungkwan is—he’s not familiar with this concept.” Joshua tried to comfort him, but all Hansol could think about was Seungkwan.

As if he’d heard his thoughts, Joshua squatted down so Hansol could face him comfortably.

“Seungkwan doesn’t hate you.”

“I know, hyung.”

Fuck, he didn’t know. He didn’t fucking know anymore.

“I know…I know you’ve probably heard this from your other hyungs,” Joshua said this in English. Which hurt more.

Hansol glanced at Seungkwan, the latter too focused on the camera to give him any mind. He sure must have looked like a kicked puppy at that moment. He was a little pathetic.

“Not that many hyungs.” Hansol replied back in English.

“But it’s been enough, right?” Joshua said. “We’re just worried for you. And for Seungkwan.”

“Worried for what? I’m okay, Shua. You don’t have to worry about me. You can worry about Seungkwan—he’s too tired recently. But I’m okay.”

“Nonie.”

“Hyung, I’m—“ Hansol couldn’t finish his sentence. The words sat on Hansol’s tongue, just right there. If he opened his mouth, it would tumble and fall and the secret wouldn’t be hidden anymore.

I’m scared.

I’m scared that I feel too much for him.

I’m scared that I made him run away.

“Do you want to talk about it? We have time. We can get snacks and hide in the bathroom.” Joshua’s hand was comforting, holding his arm. There was something different when the two spoke in English, like it was harder for Hansol to cover up his feelings that seemed to explode right inside of him.

“Hyung.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I can fix it anymore.”

Completely opposite of Hansol, fans were very perceptive of who they liked, and that including Hansol and Seungkwan.

The team had been giving media training when they were finally set to debut. It was easy enough for Hansol: Don’t do this, don’t do that, don’t turn your back on the camera, don’t promote brands you don’t endorse. He’d been gradually getting used to that lifestyle of not showing everything on camera. What had been hard though was trying to regulate what was seen with his other members.

Of course, he understood he had to show some semblance of getting along with them; that wasn’t hard. But he had to talk more than he usually did and he had to show a personality fit for the viewers. It was hard.

So of course, being Hansol, he leaned to Seungkwan for support.

It was easier trying to talk when the person Hansol was with was someone who was comfortable to be around. Cameras were scary during debut, and Hansol wasn’t sure what quips or funny jokes to make. But Seungkwan was there. Seungkwan knew Hansol.

Seungkwan would help Hansol participate in conversations more, asking questions directed at him or giving jokes that needed Hansol’s punchline.

And it was less scary when he could hold his hand in front of the cameras.

It was taught to him clear in media training that they had to be close to the members, but not too much skinship. It had to be professional on camera. They were only in their first few months of existing as a group, so Hansol slipped up sometimes. A lot of times.

The problem started showing itself during fan meetings. Apparently, fans picked up on it. They knew more than Hansol did.

After the fanmeet when four members had gotten into a van, Hansol ended up following Seungkwan, who tagged along with Jeonghan and Seungcheol.

Unusually, Seungkwan was quiet. He took the window seat while Jeonghan sat beside him; Hansol and Seungcheol sat in the back.

While Jeonghan was creating conversation, with a few of Seungkwan’s comments interjecting here and there, Seungcheol bumped his shoulder.

“Hey.”

Hansol looked up at Seungcheol.

“Mm.” He replied.

“Don’t mind it. Don’t mind them.”

“Mm.” Hansol’s eyes found Seungkwan, whose head was leaning against the window. He could see the back of his head, hair styled and fluttering and he was so pretty.

“The fans aren’t serious about it. They just think you look cute, like me and Jeonghan. It’s okay.”

But the thing is, Hansol understood why they did it. It wasn’t too bad. For his hyungs, the fans paired them up together because they looked at each other in a way that was different to the other members. But for him, the fans paired him and Seungkwan up because it was obvious.

Not for Seungkwan at least. For him. He had been too obvious, and it scared him.

Seungkwan was going to know.

“Don’t let it change your friendship.”

Hansol nodded. But a small fear festered in the back of his mind that creeped up his spine—he may be the one to do just that.

“Okay hyung.” Because what else was he going to say?

There was a familiar gut-sinking sensation, one Hansol was acquainted with at that point, when Hansol realized that Seungkwan was really pretty.

Nothing had happened. Hansol was sitting cross legged against the wall across the bathroom door, waiting for Seungkwan to get out so he could take a shower.

But when the door opened and Hansol finally took a look up from his phone, he found Seungkwan with his hair wet, a towel around his neck and his basketball shorts from middle school exposing just about half his thighs down. His hair was dripping all over his face and Hansol could see how those droplets would roll down his cheek and onto his neck. His eyelashes were prominent against his cheeks, and Hansol could see them when Seungkwan almost blinked in slow motion.

Oh fuck.

“Your turn, ‘Sol.” Seungkwan said as he rubbed his hair again with the towel

Oh fuck.

He continued to act as if everything was normal, that nothing had just happened and he thanked Seungkwan and entered the bathroom. But still, the thought that was well-hidden between their first comeback, lyric writing, and practice finally surfaced.

And somehow Hansol had to act like he realized absolutely nothing tomorrow when they go on a variety show.   

Hansol fucked up so bad.

Kissing become a normal occurrence for them. Sort of.

The morning after the first time they tried to practice it (with very loose meaning—neither really knew exactly what they were doing), Seungkwan had become extremely awkward around Hansol. Even more so than Hansol, who used to just follow around Seungkwan without saying a single word because he was too awkward to start the conversation.

It was that bad.

Every time they accidentally brushed fingers, or when Hansol caught Seungkwan looking at him, the latter would immediately back away ten meters and pretend they weren’t doing anything. Hansol had even tried to lend one earbud to Seungkwan while they were on the way to the company building, but Seungkwan refused and went over to sit with Seokmin.

What the hell.

Hansol could only scratch his head in confusion; he could tell the other more perceptive members like Jeonghan and Wonwoo were confused at their behavior.

However, the day after, everything was back to normal. It gave Hansol an intense whiplash that he wasn’t sure if he even woke up fully when he saw Seungkwan on the ladder to his top bunk with a bright smile on his face.

Thing went smoothly, or smoother, than the day before. Hansol could hold Seungkwan’s hand (but the other would be clammy and sweat a lot) and he could run his fingers through Seungkwan’s hair (Seungkwan would bicker with him but wouldn’t refuse it).

At least Hansol could still kiss Seungkwan’s forehead.

But when he did, he could see Seungkwan’s face turn bright red at the contact and at that point Hansol was completely sure he did something wrong.

Later that evening, Hansol was reading a book with music playing in his ears. It was another playlist he’d made with Seungkwan’s taste.

The book had the premise of a man who was sent on a journey to save the princess who had been captured by an evil witch. The man was in love with the prince, irrevocably so, but the princess was under a spell. No matter how much the man had tried to save her from the evil witch, she would never recognize what he looked like. It seemed childish, but Hansol later found out the story had been told in a much more mature way. Something akin to real life. He wondered what the ending would be like, whether or not the princess would realize she, too, loved the man.

Then, one of his earbuds was forcefully taken out of his ear.

“Hansol.”

Said boy put the book down, coming face to face with Seungkwan who sat with him on the couch.

“Yeah, ‘Kwan?”

“Um…” Seungkwan scratched his head.

“Can I…talk to you?”

“Of course. What is it?”

Now, Seungkwan became clammy again. He was picking at his fingers, digging into the skin that surrounded his nails with repetitive behavior that Hansol noted he did as well when he was nervous.

Hansol placed his hand over Seungkwan’s.

“You can tell me anything.”  

Because of course Seungkwan could. He was Seungkwan. Hansol would listen to him no matter what he was talking about—school, training, their stupid instructors, their stupid CEO, stupid Soonyoung and Seokmin, his favorite food, his favorite music, what he cried about that day—because it was Seungkwan.

After Seungkwan took a few deep breaths, he held Hansol’s hand. Hansol knew he was trying to take him somewhere, so he put a crumpled receipt in the last page and abandoned his iPod to follow Seungkwan.

Without even saying a word, they were back in the washing-machine-slash-dryer room. Suddenly, Hansol’s heartbeat raced. He could still remember what they did there.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m—I’m sorry. For yesterday.”

Seungkwan was still holding Hansol’s hands. That’s good, they’re still okay, he thought. This is still okay.

“It’s okay, ‘Kwan.” Hansol said.

“No, no, it wasn’t. I ignored you the whole day and—and had that stupid excuse of practicing singing even when you know I slack off on that. I’m sorry.”

Seungkwan hung his head low and squeezed Hansol’s hand. Hansol squeezed his back.

‘I’m still here.’

He knew Seungkwan would continue talking, so he let him.

“I was just a little…it felt a little weird seeing you after we k…k…”

“Kissed?” Hansol provided.

“Don’t! Say! The K word!” Seungkwan whisper shouted. Hansol laughed, but nodded.

 “Yeah, so anyways, it felt weird. But not in like the I-hated-you way but in a way like,” Seungkwan said, his eyes trailing downwards, unable to look Hansol in the eye.

He coughed—it was the awkward cough.

“Like I wanted to k…k…do the thing with you again.”

Hansol’s eyes widened.

Oh.

It was like that.

“You wanted to kiss me again?”

Why was Hansol’s heart beating so fast? Why did he feel like his heart was doing somersaults up to his brain that seemed to go blank at just the idea of Seungkwan kissing him again? Why did he feel happy?

Hansol took a deep breath. Stay normal, he thought. Stay normal.

“…Yeah.” Seungkwan finally, finally, looked back into Hansol’s eyes. He was nervous; his bottom lip was trembling and his hands started sweating in Hansol’s again.

Hansol licked his lips.

“Well, uh,” He started, not knowing what to do. This wasn’t in the movies—they didn’t really have this kind of predicament, where the two people (who were both boys) were best friends and didn’t really get into a relationship or fall in love with each other but still kissed.  

“Do you want to do it again?” He asked.

An evil voice in the back of his mind begged: Say yes.

“Yes.”

Hansol showed a face of indifference yet not apathy. But inside, he could feel his heart about to explode right out of his chest. He could feel his heartbeat even in his wrist and his neck, pounding louder and louder in his skull. He had thought that it would be a one-time thing.

But it happened again. It’s happening again.

“Okay. I’ll kiss you now.”

“Okay.”

Seungkwan shut his eyes tight again, the same face that looked like he was bracing for impact. But when Hansol dropped his hands and lifted them up to caress Seungkwan’s cheeks, he could see how rosy he was. He could see the minute details of how Seungkwan’s eyebrows relaxed, his nose inhaling and exhaling just barely as if he was scared, and his lips.

Hansol let his eyes flutter shut before he tilted his head and kissed Seungkwan again. This time, Hansol felt the kiss. He felt the way Seungkwan’s lips tingled electricity into him, how his hands were searing hot.

He felt Seungkwan’s own hands, which used to lay limply at his sides, slowly crept up to Hansol neck. Seungkwan had his arms crossed over Hansol’s neck and everywhere his skin touched made Hansol feel like he was going to explode.

He felt greedy. Hansol felt greedy.

Why should a random girl have this? Why should some random girl be able to kiss his best friend like this when he could, right there?

He wasn’t sure what to do next after placing his lips on Seungkwan’s, but he sealed their lips tighter, opening them just slightly before he locked them against Seungkwan’s once more. As if he was eating ice cream with his lips, except this was much sweeter.

Seungkwan jolted at the new action, but didn’t push him away. Instead, he tried to do the same action but gingerly, and Hansol could feel Seungkwan’s nails lightly graze against his skin. It tingled—it drove Hansol crazy.

Hansol broke away first.

He could feel Seungkwan breathing, and he could see his chest heaving up and down.

“Uh, um…um…” Seungkwan started, because there was no way he could ever have a moment of silence with Hansol.

“That okay?” Hansol said. And he let out a toothy grin showing his canines, unable to hold it back.

Seungkwan, still red in the face, nodded slowly. His hands were still crossed on Hansol’s neck. “Mhm,”

And Seungkwan added, “That was nice.”

“Yeah.” The word flowed almost like an exhale. At that point Hansol could only hear his own heartbeat. “Nice.”

Seungkwan licked his lips. “Can we do it again?”

Another exhale. “Yeah.”

Minghao accompanied Hansol to a bar near their hotel where they were staying at in Japan. It was quiet, yet not empty. Hansol pulled out a chair and Minghao pulled out another without either of the two acknowledging the time or that they had a flight later at 10 am.

“I can’t believe you’re finally talking about it. To me!” Minghao said grinning widely as if he’d already drunk a little before leaving. He held his hand up to order for the two of them while Hansol only looked at him with furrowed eyes.

“It’s ‘cause you’ve been annoying me to talk about it for months. Do you know that?” Hansol replied

“Oh, shut up. I’m literally your favorite hyung. Let me enjoy that fact. I’ll brag about it when we get back.”

Hansol buried his eyes in his hands. “Fuck, please don’t brag about it. Especially not to Jeonghan.”

“Why, has he already come up to you to talk?” Minghao said.

“Yeah, before Woozi-hyung. But I didn’t really get what he meant until…well…” Hansol trailed off.

“Yeah, I know. You can talk about it after we have a few bottles.”

Hansol laughed. It would take a lot more than a few for him to finally spill it.

When the food finally arrived, the two only exchanged superficial conversation with each other. The food was hot and warmed his stomach, while the alcohol that arrived warmed his throat. They ended up eating at least two servings for Minghao and three for Hansol now that the concert was over. Bottles of beer piled up in their table until Hansol drank five and felt like it had finally gone to his head.

Hansol wasn’t a very sentimental person. But when he gazed out in the streets, he didn’t find the December chill to be as cold as it used to be. Yet Hansol never felt as warm as he did when he used to just roam the streets with Seungkwan with their noses dripping and their toes freezing.

“Ah, you’re doing it again. Vernon. Hey.” Minghao snapped, pulling Hansol’s attention away from his thoughts.

“What’s going on, Vernon?”

What’s going on…Hansol wondered as well.

“Hyung, I don’t even know.”

Because he truly didn’t.

“I don’t know.”

He looked out again and he could just imagine Hansol and Seungkwan holding hands—they never did that anymore—walking down the pavement as Seungkwan would blabber on and on and on, and Hansol would listen.

Hansol would always listen. So why, then?

“Oh Nonie.” He felt Minghao’s arms embrace him and his thumb swiping his cheeks.

He was crying. He never cried.

Hansol wiped his tears with his forearm as Minghao hugged him from the side, rubbing circles on his back. The beer had really gotten to him.

“I’m—I’m sorry hyung. I don’t know why.”

He was like a little kid again. The same kid who stuck his earphones in and dialed the music all the way to 100 and kept his guard up at all times. But for a moment, he was an okay kid. He was okay. Seungkwan helped him feel like he was okay, just by existing by his side. And he ended up letting his guard down and letting himself love his members and letting himself love—

Fuck.

Hansol wiped down his face as tears flowed harder than before. He had to stop.

“You know, everyone approached Seungkwan. Everyone.” Mingaho whispered. Hansol continued to cry hearing the mention of his name.

“But he’s so damn stubborn. He never said anything and continued to smile like that was his job.”

Hansol cried harder.

“And you were off too. You weren’t the same.”

“So we tried asking him what happened. We tried asking him about you, but,” Minghao said. His voice was soft—no one would be able to hear them.

“You weren’t there, but Chan at one point was so worried about you and Seungkwan that he confronted him. He wasn’t very calm about it. Then Seungkwan retaliated and started shouting so Jun and Mingyu had to step in. I was late.”

“We told ourselves not to tell anyone else except maybe for Seungcheol.”

A breath. Two breaths.

“I know you never really talk to us, but you talk to him. So, when we realized what it was like—what you two were like now,” Now. Hansol had to stop himself from cutting Minghao off. “We couldn’t help but feel pain for our little brothers.”

“That’s why we were being so annoying in asking you.”

It was so annoying to cry. It was so annoying to feel pain and hurt. It was annoying to miss someone that wasn’t truly gone.

“Did Seungkwan say anything about me?” If he did, that meant he cared. If he did, that meant Hansol wasn’t the only one missing him. If he did, that meant Hansol could still fix this.

Minghao pulled his lips into a tight line. “He did. To Jeonghan.”

“Can you tell me?” Hansol asked, his voice small against his own body.

“I’m sorry. Jeonghan wouldn’t tell me. But I think I know what he said.” Minghao gave him a crooked smile that didn’t really reach his eyes; it was one full of sympathy.

“What was it?”

“I’m not sure, but I think you have to ask him yourself.”

Hansol started kissing Seungkwan when he was sixteen. He had just turned seventeen, and he wondered to himself:

Did friends usually do this? Did friends try to kiss each other at least once a week? Or more? Did they kiss at all? But Hansol didn’t care. He was having fun.

Every time they’d come home from practice, they would make excuses and go to the washing-machine-slash-dryer room—maybe Hansol would rename it the kissing room. It was first short, innocent kisses.

But then they started doing it more often. Seungkwan didn’t say no, and Hansol was too caught up trying to remember the curves of Seungkwan’s lips to. He still smelled like lavender.

Of course, because it was kissing, they had to progress.

Seungkwan would ask him what else they should do once both of them felt like the stage they were at was comfortable. And Hansol would try something, and Seungkwan would follow suit.

“‘Sol, why do people open their mouths when they kiss?” Seungkwan asked, leaning against the washing machine.

Hansol scratched his head. “I don’t know. I think they use their tongues and stuff.”

“That’s so gross! What!” Seungkwan laughed, but both of them knew why he brought it up while they were in the washing-machine-dryer-almost-kissing room.

Hansol shrugged, trying to feel nonchalant except how his own face started heating up. “Do you wanna try?”

“Um, okay.” Seungkwan said, biting his nail. Hansol wondered why he felt his stomach twist at the sight.

And when they did it, it seemed like an all-time-high for Hansol. He wasn’t sure how Seungkwan felt, other than the latter asking Hansol to kiss him even more.

Hansol felt like this was illegal. Because he was definitely feeling something else other than ‘friendship’ and the need to ‘teach his best friend how to kiss’. He liked the tingles and sparks Seungkwan’s kisses gave him. He liked how Seungkwan always replied ‘Yes’ to when Hansol would ask him if the kiss was okay. He liked how Seungkwan was always so red afterwards. He liked how pretty Seungkwan looked so close to his face.  

It was fun how dangerous it was. They would always clamber on to the same bed afterward and Hansol would let him listen to a new playlist, but they would always (somehow) come back to the same song Seungkwan showed him. They would giggle and Hansol’s heart would beat so loud. It was like a little secret. Their secret.

Once the other members started catching on how they were both gone at the same time, they would start ‘accidentally’ going in to the bathroom one after the other, even though either haven’t really left.

And every time they would do it, Hansol would start to want more and more.

That was bad, right?

But Hansol couldn’t help himself. He wished he stopped.

Then, finally, when their debut rolled around, suddenly it was gone. And Seungkwan’s warmth disappeared from his lips.

It was quiet that day in the dorms. Mostly because it was in the middle of the night at 3 am when everyone except maybe Jihoon who was still in his studio was asleep. Hansol had been for four hours though since he took a nap, and he was restless and verses were filling him his head.

Lately, his lyrics have started to become melancholic. Dramatic. And very romantic. Usually, he would write about his experiences and his time at school and how he was like before. But lately, his source of inspiration shifted. Jihoon noticed, but didn’t mind it. Maybe the output was good.

But it’s become bad. It was all he could write about. He tried to write about something other than heartbreak, unrequited love, crushes, dating, and he came up with nothing.

Even at that moment, Hansol was listening to his favorite song. Melancholic lyrics about broken romance and tragedy and…

Well, it used to be Seungkwan’s favorite.

He didn’t want to stress about the details. It didn’t really matter. It was okay.

As he wrote verses upon verses, revising and adding new material about how the narrator missed his old lover and wanted to run after them, he noticed a figure in the corner of the room. He paid it no mind and continued to write in his notebook with the stupid pen Seungkwan gave him a few years back and why was everything about Seungkwan? Why was his everything about Seungkwan?

He stopped writing.

“Seungkwan.” Hansol closed the notebook.

No, no. Seungkwan couldn’t see his lyrics, Hansol thought.

“Why are you awake? Go back to sleep.” Hansol said, pushing himself off the couch.

“I couldn’t.” Seungkwan said, rubbing his eyes.

They were still okay, Hansol thought. Even if he had ruined everything they once had in the green room during Christmas back in their debut days, they were still okay. Seungkwan still spoke to him, they still talked to each other about problems that plagued their days, Seungkwan still blabbered about his concerns that Hansol would always listen to. They hung out less. But they were still tight, even if they didn’t kiss anymore or if Seungkwan didn’t call him Hansol and it felt like there was an invisible wall between them that Hansol couldn’t climb over.

They were okay.

“You’re writing lyrics?” Seungkwan said, holding up the notebook.

Hansol scrambled to retrieve the notebook back. Seungkwan just looked at him dumbfounded.

“They’re not done. Sorry.”

“Oh. Okay.” Seungkwan said. He gave up too easily.

“Yeah. They’re not done.”

But they were done. Hansol knew that. He just didn’t want to show Seungkwan how much the latter’s presence followed him around into his dreams, into his songs, into his pen. If Seungkwan knew, what would happen?

“Okay. Well. You should sleep.” Seungkwan said.

“You should sleep too.” Hansol resisted the urge to hold Seungkwan’s face in his hands and wipe his tired eyes away.

“Ha—Vernon. I—I…”

Seungkwan started, but his eyes were darting around everywhere and his fingers were picking themselves and he did the stupid awkward cough. He couldn’t look Hansol in the eye though.

Hansol bit the inside of his cheek.

It was too quiet for them to be in the same vicinity together.

“Never mind. Sorry.” Seungkwan started to walk away.

Hansol could still remember December a few years back, how his back was cold and his legs were freezing and he could do nothing but stay in his spot as Seungkwan walked away—ran away from him.

If Seungkwan were to go back to his room with Chan and Jun then Hansol would have lost him forever.

“Wait. ‘Kwan, wait.”

Hansol grabbed Seungkwan’s hand. It was so warm.

“Please wait.”

“I—I don’t know what you want from me, ‘Sol.”

When it used to sound like honey, hearing the familiar ‘Sol come from Seungkwan’s mouth after all these years feels like a stab to the chest.

Could they be okay.

“‘Kwan, please. Why are you doing this?” Hansol asked. “Why are you ignoring me and avoiding me and—and acting like we’re no longer best friends?”

Why do I miss you? Why do I think you’re leaving forever? Why do I keep waiting for you to treat me like how we used to be even though we could never return to that?

Hansol swallowed. He was going to say it even if he was going to die.

“Was it because I kissed you? Is that it?” He whispered, fighting to keep Seungkwan’s eyes on him.

“Hansol!” Seungkwan shouted, pushing Hansol’s hand off him.

“I’m sorry I did. I’m sorry I kissed you. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew we would be like this. But please can you just tell me what it is it I can do to fix this? How can I fix us?”

Hansol’s eyes burned and he was trying so hard to keep his voice steady, but it was hard. He could feel his vocal cords tremble—it was hard to feel emotions that never came to him easily.

“Stop it Hansol! Just, stop it!” Seungkwan shouted.

“‘Kwan, please. Please.” Hansol reached for Seungkwan’s hand, but Seungkwan only added more space between them.

“I’ll tell you, Hansol!” Seungkwan said, his voice hard and trembling and loud and Hansol wish he never said anything if this would be how he made Seungkwan cry after so many years of not being able to hold him to wipe his tears.

“You never show me your lyrics. You never talk to me about your life. You never—You never let me share your stupid earphones with you anymore. I push you away but you never run after me anymore. I know it’s my fault, but I wanted you to show that you still cared.”

Hansol couldn’t speak.

“And—fuck! Fine! You kissed me! I didn’t want you to kiss me because what if they saw! They’re always watching us and—and they keep assuming things about me that aren’t true and it just scares me because we wouldn’t be the same anymore. And I didn’t want that to happen so I didn’t try anything and I didn’t do anything because I didn’t want us to change but then—but you kissed me again, Hansol! And I don’t know why, but I miss you. I miss you so much that you’ve changed and I don’t know what to do!”

Seungkwan was crying.

Seungkwan was crying and Hansol could do nothing.

“Why did you kiss me, ‘Sol? It’s so different now. You’re so different now. Why?”

If Hansol could remember all the times he had ever stared, or looked, or glanced at Seungkwan, he wouldn’t be able to quantify them. If Hansol tried to remember all the times he thought just how beautiful Seungkwan was, he wouldn’t be able to even recall each memory because there were too many times.

If Hansol tried to remember how many times he told Seungkwan of how he felt, it would be zero.

“Because I love you.”

Seungkwan laughed, his cheeks stained with tears that continued to flow. “Hansol, no.”

“I love you, ‘Kwan.” Hansol said. “I kissed you because I meant it. I kissed you because I loved—I love. You. I do.”

“Fuck.” Seungkwan said rubbing his tears with the back of his hand. “Fuck, no.”

“I write my lyrics for you. I listen to my music for you. It’s all you, Seungkwan.” Hansol said.

“I don’t want us to change, ‘Sol. Say you’re lying. Say you’re still the same and that you don’t love me.”

“We can still be friends, Seungkwan. You don’t need to love me back. I’m okay if you never love me back—It doesn’t need be different—”

“But it is different!”

Seungkwan shouted.

“I just want you back in my life, I don’t care, just stop ignoring me…please.” Hansol’s voice turned to a whisper.

“Everything’s different now, ‘Sol. I can’t stand it.”

Seungkwan, the love of his life, was red and puffy and covered in tears and he was walking over to Hansol and,

“Seungk—”

For some reason, they were kissing. Hansol was kissing Seungkwan even though he swore he never would after that December, but Seungkwan just kissed him and Hansol couldn’t deny him. He couldn’t deny it. Seungkwan kissed him so roughly like they would never again, like he wanted for Hansol to only think of him and his lips and his stupid smile.

When they separated, Seungkwan’s eyes were still rimmed with tears.

By some miracle, maybe Seungkwan would realize what he was saying. Maybe he would realize that Hansol never really wanted to stop running after him, that he was just scared the Seungkwan would realize just exactly what he felt and things would fall apart. That Seungkwan could realize that Hansol was okay if he did nothing, as long as Hansol still had him.

But Seungkwan pushed Hansol away, wiping his mouth. Seungkwan found out and it fell apart anyway.

Then footsteps came, multiple pairs. Seungkwan looked at him for one last time with an expression Hansol couldn’t help but feel his heart cracking for.

Just as Seungkwan turned to leave, Jeonghan, Minghao, and Seungcheol arrived, their hair still in a craze from sleep but still their faces screamed of worry.

“Seungkwan, wait—” Jeonghan tried to reach out.

But Seungkwan already slammed the front door, leaving the three who just arrived utterly stunned. And Hansol could do nothing but watch.

True: When Hansol was seventeen, he realized he had a crush on Seungkwan.

Also true: When Hansol was twenty, he realized he was in love with Seungkwan.

Also, also true: Seungkwan didn’t love him back.

During a weekend when practice had ended right around 11 pm, Hansol and Seungkwan huddled together on the bottom bunk. It should be Seungkwan’s, but it wasn’t. They were small enough to both fit on the bed anyways. Small with even smaller hearts that clung together like cling wrap.

“Seungkwan, I have a new favorite song.” Hansol said.

“Is it still the same one we always play?”

“No, it’s my own favorite song. Listen.”

The two shared the earphones, listening as tunes flowed forth from the iPod.

It was new. It was a pop punk song, a different vibe than what Seungkwan usually decided to listen to. Hansol watched intently at Seungkwan, waiting for any sort of reaction from him.

When the song ended, Seungkwan looked back at Hansol. While laughing, he said:

“We really do have different tastes, ‘Sol!”

The two ended up bickering as Hansol took that as an insult. But their fighting never lasted too long as they ended up annoying the other members as well. They laughed like that before Hansol pecked Seungkwan a kiss on the forehead and went up to his bunk. Then Seungcheol called lights out and the room turned to darkness.

Hansol liked Seungkwan. Though he wasn’t sure what that meant, or what the depth of that like meant just yet, he knew he liked Seungkwan. Silently, before he closed his eyes to dreams and sleep, he hoped they would still be together and he hoped he would still be the Hansol that liked Seungkwan. He wouldn’t have it any other way in the world.

When Hansol watched Seungkwan pass by him during Christmas eve, Hansol missed him. Both literally and figuratively.

Hansol missed Seungkwan so fucking bad.

It was his fault. He knew that in some way, it was his fault. If he kept his feelings inside, Seungkwan wouldn’t have felt the need to avoid him. Hansol didn’t run after him, just like Seungkwan said, and never tried again. And Hansol never tried rekindling their friendship, the one post-debut and the one pre-whatever-the-hell-the-fight-was.

Sometimes, Seungkwan would look at him like he wanted to say something. But they would continue to be in silence, only ever talking about superficial thing, never what they actually needed to talk about.

True, Hansol has let the friction between them become so hard and their rift become so wide simply because he refused to speak first. Seungkwan could speak first, right?

But it had been months. A comeback has come and gone. Almost all of the year-end awards were done and they were all exhausted from performances and activities. Yet Seungkwan still hasn’t talked to him.

Maybe Seungkwan was right. Everything has changed. Maybe whether or not they had that fight, they would still end up like this. Like friends that aren’t actually friends and friends who never speak to each other or hang out alone. The fight only proved it to be right.

Was it self-pity? Was it him making excuses for himself? Hansol didn’t know.

But Minghao talked to him. Minghao told him whatever it was Seungkwan said about him that he couldn’t say first to his face, Hansol would need to get it out of him.

But Hansol was tired.

If Hansol never fell in love with Seungkwan, maybe their kissing back when they were still young would have stopped sooner. Maybe the Hansol-that-never-loved-Seungkwan would resist to let it go on for as long as it did and Seungkwan would have stopped asking to try again. Maybe they would still be close and nothing would be weird between them because they didn’t love each other. Seungkwan wouldn’t feel weird about Hansol because Hansol would have never loved him in the first place.

If the only way they could get back to the way they were is if they never even tried to kiss the first time, then Hansol wouldn’t have done it. If the only way they could still be best friends was if Hansol never loved him, Hansol would have never done it.

But that’s a lie, wasn’t it?

Hansol was too in love with Seungkwan to ever deny him.

Hansol was irrevocably, irreversibly, in love with Seungkwan. He knew a part of his heart would always be dedicated for Seungkwan.

The fans started noticing the drift between them. Slowly. Gradually. Where cracks started to splinter and strike at the bond they shared, the fans noticed. So maybe this is what Seungkwan meant. But, silently, Hansol thought to himself, maybe they already knew what he kept secret to himself.

They always knew before Seungkwan did anyway. Or maybe Seungkwan knew. And that’s why he kept his distance.

From the corner of his eye, Hansol could see Seungkwan walking out the door. Alone, with nothing on hand. For a split second, they looked at each other.

Hansol missed that too.

Then Seungkwan left.

Fuck, he can’t fix it anymore.

He can’t.

“Oh, Hansol?” It was Jeonghan.

“Hyung.”

It was a little irritating. Jeonghan knew what Seungkwan said but wouldn’t tell him.

“That was Seungkwan who just left right?”

“Yup…”

“You’re not going after him?”

“Am I a dog to you?”

Jeonghan laughed, ruffling Hansol’s hair. How could his hyung be so happy when it was so obvious that he was in the depths of hell moping?

“Well, I’m a bit tired. You should give this to Seungkwannie.”

Hansol looked at Jeonghan’s hand. It was a beat-up iPod.

Their.

iPod.

It was like he dunked with cold water. Hansol scrambled and got it back. Then, he looked up at Jeonghan with bewildered eyes.

“What the fuck, where did you get this? I thought I lost this forever!”

Jeonghan shrugged.

“Seungkwan’s bed.”

Memories of them listening to Hansol’s playlists for Seungkwan, memories of them sharing an earphone, memories of them sharing songs with each other, memories of so many years together and Hansol could only remember how Seungkwan had left him.

There was still an earphone plugged into it. That meant Seungkwan just used it.

What the hell?

When he turned it on, the last song played was the song Hansol showed Seungkwan.

Hansol’s favorite song he gave to Seungkwan, all the way back then.

He looked up and down at the iPod, hoping for something to happen, for Jeonghan to say something.

“What are you looking at me for?”

But he knew on Jeonghan’s face, on the faces of everybody who came to talk to him, to get him out of his stupor that he could never fix it, they said:

Go.

Without even getting a jacket for himself, Hansol rushed out the door, wearing slides and holding the iPod close to his heart as he ran around, looking for Seungkwan.

He could still fix this.

He could still run to Seungkwan. He could still chase after him on that street with the photobooth and out the door and he could still find him and make it right. Even if nothing was the same, even if neither of them had been the same kids they were before Hansol loved him, he could still fix it.

The night was still young, yet Hansol wasn’t. But even as he’d grown up, his heart still followed Seungkwan, even as lonely as it was.

Hansol had seen this scene in one of the movies he’s watched before. The couple has a misunderstanding that Hansol usually scoffed. They never talk to each other, but then the main character realizes what they did wrong, and runs after their lover. They find each other magically like two magnets that could never be separated. They kiss and hug each other and the movie ends.

But Hansol’s breath is tight in his throat and his legs felt like burning as he ran through every street and he thought, ‘Please don’t let the movie end. Please don’t let that be the last of us.’

Because he can’t let it end. He can’t lose Seungkwan when had he tried to catch him in the first place? Those late nights together, silent secrets they shared, and even the moments when their eyes meet across the room and it felt electric—it’s not something he would want to lose.

When Hansol finally stops running to catch his breath, it’s in the same photobooth he’d accidentally come across.

“Why am I here again? Am I stupid?” He muttered to himself. The street was so quiet, it seemed to echo his voice back to him.

Then a voice from behind him spoke.

“Han…sol.”

He turned around, only to find Seungkwan standing right there. Right there.

He was there.

“‘Kwan.” Oh, did Hansol miss him.

Without even thinking, Hansol ran up to Seungkwan and wrapped his arms around him with so much force Seungkwan almost tumbled backwards. He buried his face in Seungkwan’s neck, letting himself be free to hug Seungkwan like the way he did years before.  

And he smelled like cinnamon. It wasn’t lavender anymore, but Hansol didn’t care.

“Hansol, why—”

“I don’t care if we changed.” Hansol muttered, head still buried on Seungkwan.

When he finally let Seungkwan go, he still had the iPod wrapped tight around his hand. He could still the words to Seungkwan’s favorite song, word for word, but did Seungkwan do that with his too? Did Seungkwan recount every memory they had, just like Hansol did?

“I don’t care if we’re not best friends, or if we aren’t like we used to be before.”

Seungkwan looked at him in the eyes; Hansol took note of that years ago.

“I…I miss you, ‘Kwan. I miss you so bad it hurts. And I love you so bad that it hurts too.” Hansol said. It was the truth that he couldn’t run away from.

“I want you in my life, ‘Kwan. I don’t want to talk to you like nothing ever happened. I want to talk to you like what we talked about and argued about and did together matter. Because everything we’ve been through matters I don’t care if we’ve changed. I don’t care if you still do and you would rather lose us than want us to be different. My feelings, the fans, the media—they’ve changed us. They’ve changed you and me. And it’s scary. I’m scared. And you’re even more scared. But,”

But still.

“But I still want you, Seungkwan. I should have ran after you. I shouldn’t have let you go before we even had the chance to talk what would have changed between us.”

“I miss kissing you too. And I really missed it so bad when you kissed me and left.”

“So…so if you still want to end this friendship because I’m in love with you, then that’s okay.”

He would be okay. Seungkwan would be okay. He would accept it and he would move on and he would continue to love Seungkwan.

“I hate you, Hansol.”

When they used to be younger, Hansol used to know everything about Seungkwan. And he could remember the face he would make when he would talk about something he hated. But his face, scrunched up and lips pursed, and his voice, which was too soft to be mad, said nothing of that.

“I hate you so much. I hate how you’re always listening to me talk. I hate how your teeth show when you really laugh at something. I hate the way you always asked me if the kiss was okay because it was so stupid how I liked every single one of your kisses. I hate that you know me better than I do, and I hate that I still know you so well even after I’ve ignored you and pushed you away.”

“I hate that I pushed you away because I only wanted the memories of us from before, and I hate how I was too scared to make any more memories with you because maybe it would turn to shit. I really hate myself for being so afraid of what other people would say. Because maybe then they would realize something about me that I didn’t want to admit to myself.”

“I’m so sorry, ‘Sol. I’m an idiot.” Seungkwan was wiping his eyes. “I was so scared of everything and everyone I didn’t realize I was losing you.”

Hansol felt his jaw hang open, just slightly. And Seungkwan was still looking at him.

“You drove me crazy. You still drive me crazy. And I was so confused why I wanted you near me so bad before and why I could never stop myself from asking you to kiss me again.”

Hansol stopped breathing.

“I still want to kiss you again.”

It was those words, those set of words Hansol was sure he would never hear from Seungkwan’s lips again. Yet it was true; it was real. The real Seungkwan had asked him of it and was standing there right in front of him.

Hansol spoke, his voice quiet even to himself. “You mean it?”

He held his breath, waiting for Seungkwan to reply.

But before even realizing what happened, Seungkwan had grabbed ahold of Hansol face, cupped in his hands just like Hansol did when they stole each other’s first kisses, and slotted their lips together.

It was familiar, it was different. It was them. It was still them.

Hansol closed his eyes shut, letting go of everything and holding Seungkwan close to him, his hand sliding to Seungkwan’s waist and his other hand holding his jaw.

And it felt just like their very first one. The sparks, the electricity, Seungkwan. The smell of cinnamon instead of vanilla, and smooth lips instead of chapped ones. It wasn’t the same, but it was everything better than their first one—except they’d already practiced before.

When they parted, it was nothing like before. Now, they were smiling. They knew it was real; it was no practice. And Seungkwan still looked so pretty.

“I really mean it, ‘Sol.”

The winds in December still felt cold against his skin. But it wasn’t too cold, not when Seungkwan held Hansol’s hand in his.

He squeezed it. Hansol squeezed back.

They both know what he meant.

Then Seungkwan jumped, still in his arms. “Oh my god, you dropped the iPod, ‘Sol!”

The iPod was dented at the at the edge and cracks splintered all across the screen. Hansol picked up, holding the on button, but it stayed black. He looked up at Seungkwan, a nervous smile on his face.

“Oh, Hansol! Please! It had my favorite song in there!” Seungkwan grabbed it from Hansol and held it close.

Slowly, Hansol started laughing. Really, really laughing. He could feel his jaw hurt from how hard he laughed.

“Your favorite song being the one I recommended to you?” He laughed, and laughed harder when he saw Seungkwan turn red.

Seungkwan groaned, leaning his head on Hansol’s. “It’s a good song okay…it reminds me of you.”

Maybe Seungkwan had thought of Hansol while they’ve been apart. Maybe Hansol wasn’t the only one who felt like his heart broke. And maybe nothing was all lost after all.

“I like the song you gave me too.”

True: Hansol was in love with Seungkwan.

Also true: Seungkwan loved Hansol back.