Work Text:
Shinyu doesn’t mean to fall for Dohoon, but it happens anyway.
He doesn’t even realise it’s happening at first—all he knows is that he starts seeking the other boy out at every opportunity, jumping at the chance to get closer to him, physically or emotionally. At first, he can convince himself it’s purely platonic—he just likes how straightforward and direct Dohoon is about his emotions, likes that he never has to jump through hoops to guess what he’s feeling, because Dohoon will just tell him without all the usual unnecessary pretences. It makes Dohoon easy to spend time with, and a calming presence to be around, which Shinyu is grateful for, but nothing more.
But it is more than that; it’s the easy confidence Dohoon carries with him everywhere, the unshakeable faith he has in himself and his abilities, completely unaffected by others’ opinions of him. It’s how well he knows both his own strengths and his weaknesses, and his willingness to ask for help when he needs it, never prioritising his pride over concrete improvement. It’s his relentless honesty that manages to be both blunt and compassionate, never having to tear others down to elevate himself. It’s his integrity, and his undying commitment to keeping his word once it’s given.
It’s all of that, and more, and it hits Shinyu one day, when he least expects it, that there’s a word for what he feels every time he looks at Dohoon, when his heartbeat picks up and his stomach twists itself into knots.
That word, of course, is love.
He puts two and two together on their first night living together in TWS’ new dorm, still almost a year out from their debut, at dinner. Dohoon is laughing as Kyungmin tells some ridiculous story, and he just looks so gorgeous that Shinyu momentarily forgets where he is. It’s only when Jihoon nudges him gently and asks him if he’s alright that he realises he’s staring, and completely shamelessly at that.
Thankfully, his reputation for spacing out at inopportune times is a good enough cover to get Jihoon to laugh and dismiss the incident as nothing more than Shinyu being Shinyu, but it sends Shinyu’s thoughts racing a mile a minute.
Shinyu made a lot of plans when he first became an idol trainee, but developing feelings for best friend and groupmate was certainly not one of them. As it stands, though, there’s nothing left to be done about it—Dohoon has stolen his heart, and now he just has to find a way to deal with that fact.
Telling Dohoon outright is too risky, especially when the group is still at such a critical stage in its development; there’s about a 90% chance that Dohoon is completely straight, and even if he’s not, there’s no guarantee that he would feel the same. Confessing his feelings would only endanger the fragile dynamics of the group and possibly push Dohoon away from him altogether, and that’s not something Shinyu is willing to do at this point, or ever.
No—it’s much wiser to wait, and only come clean about his feelings when he’s entirely sure they’ll be reciprocated. And if that time never comes (the most likely outcome), he’ll simply have to push those feelings down, and not let them affect what he already has with Dohoon. Maybe, if he just ignores it for long enough, it’ll go away, and nothing will have to change.
It’s wishful thinking, and Shinyu knows it, but it’s all he knows how to do.
In the meantime, he watches Dohoon from a safe distance, and tries not to blush every time the other boy so much as looks in his direction.
This could get complicated.
Dohoon doesn’t mean to fall for Shinyu, but it happens anyway.
They’ve been living in the dorm with the other TWS members for several months now, and they’ve almost finished the actual recording of Sparkling Blue, which means they’ll soon be starting the months and months of rehearsing the choreography and preparing for their debut in earnest. It’s nerve-wracking, but thrilling at the same time, and most days Dohoon is so happy that he doesn’t know what to do with himself; and if a certain Shin Junghwan has anything to do with his generally raised spirits as of late, he doesn’t let himself think about it too hard—he just tries to enjoy each moment while it lasts.
Which is exactly what he’s doing now, as he sits outside the recording booth, watching Shinyu do a final run-through of his lines for unplugged boy. He’s so focused on his work that he’s not aware of anything else around him, not even Dohoon sitting on the other side of the glass, and that’s one of the things Dohoon admires most about him—his diligence, his ability to put the rest of his life on hold in order to finish every task he starts, and to perform that task to the very best of his ability every time. Dohoon sees it not just in his idol activities, but at home, too—when Shinyu sets a goal, even one as small as cooking dinner for the other members that night, he won’t rest until that goal is achieved, no matter what the world tries to throw at him.
Dohoon notices the little things about Shinyu all the time; he notices how gentle he is with the other members, how patiently he listens to their worries and provides them with the support they need without ever feeling overbearing. He notices the contrast between his serious, composed leader persona and the clumsy, awkward sweetheart he is offstage, and how he switches between the two at the drop of a hat. He notices how good Shinyu is under pressure, the way he’s able to keep calm even when everyone around him is a mess, but also how when all is said and done and the issue resolved, Shinyu lets himself feel his feelings, openly and honestly, never too caught up in appearing strong to let himself cry in front of the others. He notices all of Shinyu’s shy smiles and nervous tics, which are so unbearably adorable that Dohoon just wants to…
Oh.
I think I’m in love with Shinyu hyung.
Scratch that—he knows he’s in love with Shinyu, because there’s no other explanation for his mind’s tendency to go blissfully blank every time the older boy touches him, even if it’s only a completely platonic, comforting hand on his shoulder, or deft fingers fixing his hair when it’s messed up after dance practice. Shinyu is the only person who can leave Dohoon speechless with nothing more than a simple touch, and he doesn’t even have to try.
Inside the recording booth, Shinyu finishes his final take and removes his headphones. His face lights up when he spots Dohoon, and he smiles so genuinely that Dohoon’s heart hurts. He knows then that he needs to do something about this sooner rather than later, because if there’s one thing Dohoon is completely incompetent at, it’s hiding his feelings for any extended period of time. Shinyu is inevitably going to find him out eventually, so he’d rather be able to tell him properly, on his own terms, than pine away uselessly until Shinyu notices the world’s most obvious lovestruck expression on his face. It’s easier said than done, of course, but it’s his only course of action at the moment, so he will do it. Somehow.
Shinyu emerges from the soundproofed room and slings his bag over his shoulder before reaching out to affectionately ruffle Dohoon’s hair.
“Dohoon-ah, you weren’t watching all of that, were you?” Shinyu asks, mostly rhetorically. “How was I?”
Dohoon scrambles to find enough coherent thought to string together a full sentence.
“You were amazing, hyung,” he tells Shinyu honestly, though he means it in more ways than the older boy thinks. “You always are—what kind of question is that?”
A subtle blush colours Shinyu’s face in response to the compliment, and he looks away shyly, visibly self-conscious (so cute, Dohoon thinks). At the same time, he wraps an arm around Dohoon’s side and gently pulls him toward the door.
“Come on—let’s get out of here.”
Now it’s Dohoon’s turn to blush, even though he knows that’s not what Shinyu meant. Shinyu doesn’t seem to notice, though, and Dohoon pushes away his racing thoughts in favour of focusing on this moment, when it’s just him and his hyung, and it’s wonderful. He needs to do something, and soon—but right now, all of that can wait.
This doesn’t have to get complicated.
It’s only a little less than a week later when Dohoon corners Shinyu in one of the HYBE dance practice rooms, which is entirely deserted save for the two of them at this hour. The sky outside is dark, but the lights shining down on Shinyu as he rehearses, for the nth time, the steps to the latest Seventeen choreography he’d set his mind on learning are cold and bright.
Dohoon watches him from the sidelines for some time, going completely unnoticed by the boy in question—Shinyu really does have a talent for tuning out distractions when he’s in the middle of something important—until the music finally stops, and Shinyu sits on the floor, breathing heavily as sweat drips from his skin. Even now, he’s beautiful, and it’s utterly unfair, in Dohoon’s eyes.
The moment Dohoon steps out of the shadows (mildly creepy, yes, but it can’t be helped) and into his line of sight, Shinyu pushes himself back up to his feet, giving the other boy a confused smile.
“Dohoon-ah, what are you doing here? It’s late—you should go back to the dorm, get some sleep.”
“I know, hyung, but I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Oh? Go ahead—I’m all yours.”
Dohoon takes a deep, steadying breath. Is he really doing this?
He finds his resolve when he sees the curious look in Shinyu’s eyes, soft around the edges and utterly breathtaking.
Yes. Yes, he is.
Dohoon steps closer again, moving himself into Shinyu’s personal space.
“Hyung, I… I don’t really know how to say this,” he tries.
“That’s okay, Hoon. Take your time.”
“Right. What I mean to say is… I should’ve told you earlier, I know, but I was too…”
Dohoon doesn’t stop moving closer, and Shinyu takes a step backward in response, swallowing nervously.
“Hoon-ah?” Shinyu asks, voice faltering almost imperceptibly. “Is something wrong?” He takes another step back, and Dohoon matches it with his own step forward.
They continue like that for a few more paces, until Shinyu’s back hits the wall, and Dohoon has an arm on either side of him, bracketing him in.
“No,” Dohoon replies, eyes darkening as he exhales, deeply and shakily. “No, hyung—everything is perfectly alright.”
“What did you want to tell me?” Shinyu’s voice has dropped to a whisper, and Dohoon mirrors that tone. He brings one of his hands up to cradle the side of Shinyu’s face, the older boy’s skin soft and heated under his touch.
“I—” This is the moment. This is when he has to say something, right now, or forever keep his peace. Dohoon needs to say something, for both of their sakes, but the words just won’t come. “Hyung,” he pleads, quietly and desperately.
Shinyu nods slightly, as if he’s granting permission for whatever Dohoon is asking of him, even if Dohoon himself isn’t yet sure what that is.
“It’s okay, Dohoonie. It’s going to be okay.”
And just like that, Dohoon’s composure breaks. He surges forward and crashes his lips against the older boy’s, physically incapable of holding back any longer. He willfully doesn’t think about the fact that this is most likely the only chance he’ll ever get to kiss Shinyu—he just focuses on the here and now, because it’s the only way he’s able to stay sane. There’s no sense in grieving the loss of something you never had in the first place.
Shinyu freezes in panic, shocked to his core. He doesn’t even have the time to process what’s happening before Dohoon is pulling away, red-faced and seemingly just as surprised by his own actions as Shinyu is.
“Fuck, hyung, I’m sorry. I just… please, just hear me out, okay?”
Shinyu blinks at him, which Dohoon must read as a go-ahead, because he keeps talking.
“I love you, Shinyu hyung. I’m in love with you.”
Shinyu inhales sharply, unsure if he can even trust his own senses. Is this actually happening? Or did he hit his head at some point recently, making all of this just some sort of masochistic, concussion-induced wish-fulfilment dream?
“And I know you probably don’t feel the same—and that’s alright, I can accept that. Nothing has to change between us if you don’t want it to. I just… I just couldn’t give up without telling you how I felt first.”
Shinyu tries to speak, but Dohoon, who is evidently not yet done with his prepared speech, beats him to it.
“Just say the word, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened. I don’t know if I can live with losing your friendship, Yu—so if it’s what you want, I’ll find a way to move on, on my own, and we can forget all about it.”
Shinyu’s head spins.
Dohoon loves him. Dohoon loves Shinyu, just as much as Shinyu loves him, and a single sentence has never sounded so right in Shinyu’s mind before. How could Dohoon possibly think that his feelings weren’t returned, when Shinyu’s heart aches this badly for him, every second of every day?
Shit. Shinyu didn’t kiss him back. Shit, shit, shit. He is an absolute idiot.
And Dohoon is also an idiot, for not seeing the adoration in Shinyu’s eyes—or in his gentle touches which linger just a little longer than they realistically should, or in the excuses he makes to sit closer to Dohoon, even when there’s plenty of space for them all to spread out, or in any of the thousand other ways Shinyu has silently screamed I love you, I love you so much it’s killing me at him, until now.
They’re both completely oblivious fools, and Shinyu would probably find it funny if he wasn’t too busy feeling ashamed of himself, and his own relentless stupidity.
“Hyung, please, just say something.”
With a start, Shinyu realises that all this time, he’s been staring at Dohoon blankly, without saying a word, and it’s gotten more than just a bit awkward at this point.
“Dohoon,” he breathes, but after that, words fail him completely. What is he supposed to say, in response to the person he loves more than anyone in this world confessing their feelings to him so earnestly? There’s not exactly a script for this sort of thing, or at least not one Shinyu is aware of.
What’s that saying in English? Actions speak louder than words? Yeah, that’ll work.
In lieu of a proper verbal response, Shinyu follows that train of logic, grabbing onto the front of Dohoon’s t-shirt and dragging him back in for another kiss. This time, it’s messy, and heated, and reciprocal, and Shinyu’s insides burn.
He lets Dohoon take control of the kiss before long, and allows himself to melt into the rhythm of it. Right now, nothing else matters, outside of Dohoon, and Dohoon’s mouth, moving so fervently against his own. He’s waited so long for this, and he plans to enjoy every moment of it.
When they’re forced to come up for air, dizzy and breathless, Shinyu makes eye contact with Dohoon, and holds it. He can only hope it’s enough to communicate how much he wants this, how long he’s wanted it, how enormous of a struggle keeping up appearances around Dohoon has been, day in and day out, these past who-knows-how-many months.
“I don’t want to forget about this,” Shinyu tells Dohoon. He says it like a prayer—which he supposes it is, in a way.
Please, let me not fuck this up.
Dohoon laughs breathily, as if he can’t believe his luck. He kisses Shinyu again, only for a few short, beautiful moments, before pulling away and leaning his forehead against the older boy’s.
“Me neither.”
“Dohoon-ah?”
“Yeah, hyung?”
“I love you. I have loved you for a long, long time. And I don’t want to let go of that.”
“You have no idea how much of a relief it is to hear that.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“Wherever you want to.”
Shinyu doesn’t even have to think about it—he’s done that countless times before, laying awake at night and staring at the ceiling, indulging the thoughts he wouldn’t let himself think in the light of day.
“Boyfriends?”
Dohoon smiles jubilantly, and leans in to press a kiss to Shinyu’s cheek.
“Boyfriends,” he affirms. “Have I mentioned that I love you?”
“You have. But it never hurts to hear it again.”
“In that case…” Dohoon kisses Shinyu’s other cheek, and then the bridge of his nose, and eventually his forehead; Shinyu’s eyes close briefly, and they open again to see the softest, most reverent expression that has ever graced Dohoon’s face, right there in front of him, in vivid technicolour.
“I love you, Shinyu hyung. A lot. Like, a ridiculous amount. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“I love you too, Dohoon. I probably love you more.”
“Not possible.”
Shinyu and Dohoon both laugh, hearts bursting with both joy and relief. They both thought that this could get complicated—but in the end, it was all so utterly, wondrously simple.