Work Text:
“Why do we keep doing this?”
The question slips out of Anton before he can even think about it. They roll off his tongue and land in the air between them, the tension now shifting from sexual to—something else. The type of tension that Anton always feels when he’s around Sungchan these days, especially when they’re in close quarters, which is nearly all the time because of just how busy their schedules have been. Because they’re group members and coworkers and friends and even though Anton feels this one-sided self-perceived tension, he likes being around Sungchan too much and so much to force himself to not be around him.
Sungchan stares down at him, eyes wide and pupils blown and looking unsure. More unsure than Anton’s ever seen them be, he thinks. Sungchan’s hands flex against his waist, where he’s been holding onto Anton for the past ten minutes.
He had come into Anton’s room about thirty minutes ago, not looking for anything in particular. Anton had been curled up at the head of his bed, laptop perched in his knees, and headphones resting over his ears, working on some new music. It had been comfortable—domestic, even, in some ways. Sungchan had seemed like he’d just wanted to be in Anton’s room, in Anton’s presence, and nothing else. Then Anton had felt weight on his bed, and when he had peered around the corner of his laptop, sure enough—Sungchan was there. Just sitting. Back pressed against the wall. Head turned and watching Anton. Anton hadn’t known what to say or do, so he did the quickest thing he could: he had saved all of the files he’d been working on, minimized the tabs, and carefully tugged his headphones off.
Before he knew it, Anton had Sungchan hovering over him, hands touching just about every part of Anton they could reach. Anton’s hoodie had ridden up, showing off his stomach, and yet Sungchan’s hands strayed so far away from touching the skin there. Anton had felt hotter on his exposed skin than anywhere else, a deep curling in his gut causing him to feel—a lot of things, really. Too many things to be able to unpack with Sungchan’s entire weight over top of him, warmth bleeding into him, feeling nearly suffocated by him.
Sungchan wets his lips. His fingers twitch against Anton’s waist, his thumbs pressing into the dips of his hips through his pants. “Do you want to—” Sungchan pauses for the briefest of seconds, “Stop?”
Anton nearly groans. He drops his head to the bed, now staring up towards the ceiling. “No. I just—want to know why we keep doing this.”
Slowly, Sungchan sits back on his knees between Anton’s legs. There’s a thoughtful look on his face as he chews at his lower lip, his gaze no longer on Anton’s face. Anton is still staring at the ceiling, quiet. Waiting. He wants to force Sungchan to talk, but he’s never been good with confrontation. He doesn’t even know why the question decided to come out now of all times, anyway. If Sungchan won’t talk, then Anton will relent. No matter how much it keeps fucking with him.
They communicate so well about everything else. If Anton is low on morale or low mentally, Sungchan helps. If Sungchan is struggling or needs a shoulder to lean on, Anton offers. They’ve never had anything akin to a push-and-pull type of relationship: it’s always been give-and-give. Sungchan gives and Anton gives back. Like this, within the confines of Anton’s room, it is the only time either of them take. Anton knows he can stop it. Knows he should stop it.
But Anton is selfish. He thinks about Sungchan going to one of the other members to do things like this, and it twists up such a sickening feeling in his gut that he nearly feels he’ll throw up from it. Anton can’t even imagine Sungchan over top of someone else, doesn’t even like the implications of Sungchan seeking someone else out to kiss. Hell, Anton doesn’t even want to think about who Sungchan has kissed before, if he’s even done this kind of thing with anyone else before Anton. Anton wants, and so he takes—if only because Sungchan lets him, and doesn’t tell him no, and lets Anton be selfish to a near overwhelming degree.
Finally, Sungchan says, “I don’t know.”
It’s an answer. One that Anton has been expecting. The expectation doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
“You don’t know.” Anton repeats, eyes fixed to the ceiling. He can’t look at Sungchan right now. Not with the way he can feel the workings of tears coming to his eyes.
“I mean—I, like… I know for me, but I don’t—” Sungchan makes a strangled noise, like he can’t figure out where to go next with his words. “Not for you. So I don’t know why we keep doing anything. I just know—why I keep doing it.”
“Then why?” Anton can’t let up. Not when he’s so close to an answer.
Sungchan is quiet. Anton can only hear his own breathing and the irregular beating of his heart in his ears.
“Because I like it.” Sungchan’s voice sounds small. Unlike himself. Anton swallows harshly as he finally shifts his head, his gaze moving down to look at Sungchan head on.
He almost regrets it. Sungchan is so dejected between his legs, literally hunched on his knees with his hands pushed between his thighs. Like he’s trying to not touch Anton any further. Anton doesn’t know if he likes that or not. He almost wants to tell Sungchan to touch him.
“You like… coming in here and getting off?” Anton asks slowly, trying to word himself carefully.
Sungchan cringes slightly, slowly shaking his head. His hair shakes with it. Anton’s fingers twitch against the bed. “Not—not that. I mean, yeah, yes, I like that, too, but…” He trails off, mouth parted and staying open for several seconds before he closes it again. Sungchan looks entirely unsure.
Anton wants to tell him to just forget it, to get back over top of him and kiss him and leave whatever it is behind so that they can just make out and get off again. He nearly does, opening his mouth to speak, before Sungchan cuts him off.
“Fuck, I don’t know. I like—this. You. Us.”
Anton has to will himself not to viscerally react. He clenches his hands into fists, digging the nail of his thumb into the palm of his hand. “Me,” he repeats, slowly. “Us.”
“Yeah.” Sungchan breathes out the word, his entire chest deflating. He looks up at Anton then, this look on his face that Anton isn’t sure he wants to decipher.
“You like that it’s us getting off together.” Anton says, tone flatter than he’s expecting. Sungchan just barely winces at the phrasing—but what else is Anton supposed to say? How else is he supposed to interpret it?
It’s not a confession. It’s not an I like you. It’s an I like when we’re sexual.
Anton feels bile at the back of his throat. Suddenly he feels sweaty and clammy all over and having Sungchan so close to him makes him feel disgusting beyond compare. Why had he been expecting ‘I like you’ in the first place? Since when had Anton’s feelings grown so far out of reach that he’s come to realize just the extent of them? Anton’s been so seemingly unaware of the actual capacity of his feelings and just what he feels for Sungchan for so long now, that they’ve finally acknowledged that something is there and that there’s more between them than just—this.
Anton manages to find his voice, as weak as it may be. “Can you leave, please?”
The look of hurt and panic on Sungchan’s face is almost too much. His eyebrows are so furrowed together that Anton thinks they might permanently stay there. He can see so many emotions flickering through Sungchan’s eyes, but Anton can’t look at them any longer. At him any longer. Anton pushes himself up on his bed, pulling his legs back and making sure not to touch Sungchan in the process. He can tell that Sungchan wants to speak—he wants to say something, but he’s not going to.
He never does.
Sungchan’s weight leaves the bed as Anton curls himself up into the top corner of his bed, pulling his hood over his head and tucking the blanket around himself. The door is so quiet when Sungchan shuts it that Anton nearly breaks down right away. He breathes in, shaky and unsteady and painful, before he lets it out slowly. The tears start rolling then. Anton is silent as he cries, burying his face against the edge of his blanket as he finally lets the pain sink in.
Anton buries himself in Sohee’s and Eunseok’s rooms. Being in his own room right now is too stifling, too suffocating. Being on his own bed just forces him to remember and confront what happened with Sungchan, and Anton can’t handle it right now.
They barely talk anymore, unless they have to. Anton knows that the others have noticed. Shotaro, especially, and he knows that Eunseok has caught on. He’s always been like that. Anton doesn’t touch Sungchan any more than absolutely necessary, either. Only for choreography or if they’re forced to stand by each other for photos. Anton can’t even look at him—he sees an inkling of Sungchan through the corner of his eyes, and immediately turns himself away so he doesn’t have to see anymore.
His other members are probably sick of him. Sohee sure is, constantly wanting his own room space back. He still lets Anton stay, though, even if he complains. Seunghan will join them on occasion, not poking or proding, but definitely trying to dig his way into Anton’s thoughts and feelings. Anton appreciates it, in a way, but he can’t stand it at the same time.
Eunseok, on the other hand, doesn’t dwell on why Anton wants to be in his room. They do their own things, entirely immersed in them—Eunseok with his games, and Anton with his music. Eunseok doesn’t complain. He doesn’t bother asking Anton to leave, even if he wants Anton to leave in any capacity. No one randomly enters the room either, not like with Sohee’s room. The rest of the members are prone to coming and going from Sohee’s room without a care in the world, but no one dares go into Eunseok’s room without permission. No one but Anton, at least.
He wonders if Sungchan has noticed. If he feels bad when he sees Anton slipping his way into Eunseok’s room without even asking. If Sungchan thinks that he and Eunseok are fucking, or getting off together. Anton grimaces at the thought. Eunseok is handsome, sure, but Anton doesn’t know if he’d be able to do that with him. Plus Anton is pretty sure that Eunseok likes Wonbin.
“Hey, hyung.” Anton slides his headphones down carefully, waiting for Eunseok to acknowledge him.
Eunseok does, though it’s merely a glance in Anton’s direction from his computer screen and a sort of humming noise from the back of his throat. He’s paying attention, at least.
“Do you like Wonbin-hyung?”
Eunseok’s character immediately dies. Anton winces, feeling bad about it. While the game respawns him, Eunseok doesn’t continue playing. He pauses the game instead, the menu now on the screen as he turns around in his chair to face Anton fully. Anton’s head is barely peering from around the side of his laptop, watching Eunseok with a cautious gaze. He doesn’t look mad, but Anton knows him well enough.
“You can tell?” Eunseok mumbles, his lips twisted into a frown.
“I mean,” Anton hesitates, shuffling his feet slightly on Eunseok’s bed. “Yeah? The way you look at him is…”
Eunseok seems to understand. He lets out a quiet sigh, reaching a hand up and running it through his hair.
Anton hesitates again, then asks, “Are you going to tell him?”
In lieu of answering, Eunseok turns around in his chair to focus on his game again. He starts up playing, but he still talks to Anton at the same time. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Why only thinking?”
Eunseok seems to misclick, aiming at something completely different. He lets out a quiet curse, before he rights his position on the screen and aims properly. Anton watches him play for several minutes, almost forgetting that he had even asked him a question in the first place. When the screen displays that Eunseok has won, Anton receives his answer.
“I don’t want us to end up like you and Sungchan.”
Anton feels like a bucket of ice water has just been poured directly over his head. He startles so badly his laptop almost falls onto the floor from the force in which Anton is sitting up, eyes practically bugging from his head. Eunseok looks like he regrets his words when he turns to look at Anton, but he doesn’t say sorry. Anton’s not exactly expecting him to. He carefully shuts his laptop and sets it aside, frowning deeply himself as he bites at the inside of his lip.
“…you knew?” Anton feels entirely too small right now. He feels like someone has pulled open his chest just to peek at his heart and laugh at it. “I…”
“Only because Sungchan came to me before. He was really upset. Cried, even.” Eunseok is watching him, gauging his reactions. “He didn’t tell me any details, but he told me that he made you hate him now.”
“He—” Anton suddenly feels dizzy. His head feels like it’s going to fall off. “He thinks that I hate him?”
Eunseok raises an eyebrow, his head tilting slightly. “You don’t?”
“No.” Anton grips at the edge of his hoodie, face scrunched up. “No, I don’t hate him—how can I? I just—I needed some time to try and process shit. I don’t…”
Eunseok lets out a hum of acknowledgement as he turns back to his computer. He exits the game he was playing, then immediately boots up a different one. “Maybe you should tell him that.”
Anton needs to corner Sungchan and he doesn’t know how to do it. It’s been two weeks since his talk with Eunseok, and Anton has no idea how to get Sungchan alone anymore. He’s been trying his damnedest—he tries to put himself in situations where the two of them will end up alone, like offering to stay behind while the others go out to eat when Sungchan says he’ll stay behind (Sungchan will decide to suddenly go with), or pushing his way next to Sungchan in the vans (he’ll switch to a different seat, or sometimes go into the other van completely), or even staying after practice so long until it is just him and Sungchan and no one else (Sungchan will slip out before Anton can even say his name).
He is so tired of this cat-and-mouse chase. He’s ready to rip his own hair out in frustration, stamp his foot down, and force Sungchan to face him in front of everyone—even at the cost of his own dignity and mental well-being.
It’s gotten to the point where Anton had even started sleeping in his own room again. He no longer hangs out in Eunseok’s or Sohee’s rooms. It’s a pathetic attempt to try and lure Sungchan back, to let him see that Anton is letting himself be alone like before. That Anton is trying to recreate what they’d been doing before. But Sungchan doesn’t seem to take the bait. Anton waits, and he waits, and he waits—and Sungchan never comes.
It’s exhausting. Anton misses the feeling of Sungchan’s lips against his more than he cares to admit, but that he’s going to admit to himself just to keep himself sane. He misses feeling Sungchan pressing into him when they sleep, misses waking up to his snoring or his drool and pretending to be annoyed with it. Misses the feeling of Sungchan’s hands everywhere on his body, touching and groping and gripping like he couldn’t get enough. Misses looking into his eyes and watching all of the emotions swirling in Sungchan’s pupils, even if Anton still doesn’t want to acknowledge those emotions himself.
Anton drags himself to his room. He hasn’t seen Sungchan since their practice about two hours ago. He had left before Anton, but Anton had decided to stay behind to actually work on something with Shotaro and Seunghan (instead of feigning being bad in order to try and catch Sungchan alone). He pushes the door open and immediately freezes up, slowly blinking several times until the person standing in front of his bed registers in his brain.
“Sungchan-hyung.” Anton’s bag drops to the floor by the door, his voice a little breathier than intended.
Sungchan jumps, scared, as he turns around to face Anton completely. “Chan—Anton—” He can’t seem to form any kind of proper words, sputtering and stumbling over random syllables, his hands floundering in the air in front of him.
Anton shuts the door quickly, just barely able to turn the lock with his shaky hands, before he marches right up to him. Sungchan is still attempting to speak, his eyes growing wider with every step that Anton takes towards him, and he stumbles backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of Anton’s bed and he’s bent at such an awkward angle that Anton is sure he’s about to fall over. Anton is right in front of him now, face-to-face, their noses just a hair’s breadth away. He can feel Sungchan’s stuttering breath against his lips.
“I don’t hate you.” Anton whispers, looking into Sungchan’s eyes. “I don’t—” He breathes in deeply, shaky despite himself. “I never did. I just—I needed time to—”
“I like you.” Sungchan blurts the words out right in the middle of Anton’s sentence. He still looks terrified, eyes wide and shiny and shaking a little. “Anton—I really—”
“You’re stupid,” Anton doesn’t let him finish, reaching up and grabbing at Sungchan’s face as he pulls him in, crushing their mouths together. Sungchan makes a startled noise, eyes going completely wide. “You’re so, so, so stupid.”
Sungchan’s hands flounder in the air once more, before they land on Anton’s waist and grip at it. Anton loves it. He feels Sungchan giving in, slowly starting to kiss him back. Sungchan pulls back just slightly, eyelashes fluttering. “Wait—Anton—” Sungchan grips harder at his waist, pushing at it gently, and Anton relents.
“Sorry,” Anton is breathing a bit heavily now, a tad worked up. “Um. I got a little—ahead of myself.”
Sungchan gapes at him, though most of the features of his face have returned to somewhat normal now. “You kissed me and called me stupid.”
“Because you are.” Anton replies, slowly lowering his hands. They come to rest on Sungchan’s shoulders, nearly coming to rest on his chest.
“How am I stupid?” Sungchan nearly pouts, his eyebrows knitted together.
“Because you’re shit at communication.”
“So are you.”
“I never said I wasn’t stupid, either.”
Sungchan’s eyes soften. He slowly shakes his head, lifting his hands until they cup around under Anton’s jaws, his thumbs brushing just over the edges of Anton’s ears. Like a caress. “You’re not stupid, Anton-ah.”
Anton swallows, flexing his fingers against Sungchan’s shoulders. “I sure feel like it.”
“I’m sorry.” Sungchan’s eyes shift away for a brief moment, before they return, looking Anton right in the eye. “For a while, I thought—I just—” He can’t seem to find his words. His mind must be running a million miles an hour.
Anton slides one hand up, mimicking the same hold Sungchan has on his face, before he leans in, brushing his lips over Sungchan’s. “Hyung. Slow down. Just talk.”
Sungchan swallows, throat bobbing, as he nods. He breathes in deeply, letting it out as he starts to speak. “For a while, I thought I might have been… forcing everything onto you?” He winces, obviously disgusted and hurt with the idea. “I didn’t realize that we never, like… talked about everything. And I was too scared to admit to myself that it had been me who kept egging it on. And making it—more. I kept coming back for more because I liked it. Because I wanted it. Because I—” Another break in his words, another brief moment of hesitation. Sungchan looks at him, eyes seeming to go over every feature of Anton’s face. “I really like you. I just thought that, like—you would say something if it was hurting you or making you uncomfortable or—or whatever else.”
Sungchan grimaces now, lips slowly turning into a frown. “When you kicked me out that day, I thought I had really fucked up. That I ended up making you hate me. I really felt like I had just—just been taking advantage of you and I felt disgusted with myself and hated myself for it. I wanted to apologize, but,” It’s Anton’s turn to wince, glancing away from Sungchan quickly. “You kept avoiding me. And then you spent all your time in Sohee’s and Eunseok’s rooms. I was sure you hated me then. I didn’t want to make it worse for you, so I just… didn’t.”
Anton doesn’t know if he should smack Sungchan upside the head, or kiss him again. He settles for the latter of decisions. Anton leans in, pressing a firmer kiss to Sungchan’s lips. Sungchan makes a quiet noise of surprise. They stumble around as Anton pushes Sungchan down onto the bed, hovering over him on his hands and knees while keeping their mouths molded together. Sungchan’s hands are on his side, gripping them tightly.
“If I didn’t like it,” Anton is saying as he pulls away, staring down at Sungchan under him. “Or if I didn’t like what we were doing… I would have stopped you. You never forced anything on me, hyung. I let it happen, too. We just—” Anton moves slowly, until he’s sitting on Sungchan’s waist and he can wrap his arms around Sungchan’s torso. Hugging him. He presses his face against Sungchan’s shoulder, breathing in. “Didn’t talk. Like idiots.”
Sungchan lets out a laugh, head pressed back into the mattress. His arms curl around Anton, squeezing him in return, large palms resting flat against his back. They’re so warm—a warmth that Anton has missed dearly these past several weeks. “We’re stupid.” Sungchan says, face scrunched up with a smile.
“Definitely stupid.” Anton mumbles, leaning down and slotting his mouth over Sungchan’s once more.