Archive of Our Own ^beta

“what did u do on taerae’s birthday”

 “oh… I texted him happy birthday!” 

Taerae’s heart thuds loudly in his chest, the weight of Junhyeon’s words pressing down on him like an unseen force. The lie. It echoed in his mind, louder than it had any right to. He exits the video hastily, the stillness of the room doing nothing to quiet the storm brewing inside him. 

The Junhyeon that had lied to his own beloved fan. 

Junhyeon hadn’t wished him a happy birthday. 

He had his number blocked. 

But to sit there and tell the world he had? The betrayal twisted inside him, his chest tightening with a bitter ache he thought he’d buried months ago. 

Taerae drags his hands down his face, roughly, trying to snap himself out of it. He wasn’t supposed to care anymore. It’s been months. He was busy, he had a full schedule — people counting on him. He shouldn’t let this bother him. Junhyeon was no longer part of his life, no longer his concern. And yet, here he was, heart racing, mind spinning, over something as insignificant as a 20-second clip. 

Maybe if he hadn’t seen it, he could have carried on with his day like nothing was wrong. He could have thrown himself into practice, his mind focused on the steps, the rhythm, his singing. But now? Now his thoughts were a tangled mess, every reminder of Junhyeon clawing at the fragile composure he’d built. 

He sucks in a shaky breath. He has to get it together. He can’t let a lie — a stupid lie — derail him. But as he stares blankly at his phone, he feels the sharp sting of disappointment sinking deeper, twisting in ways that hurt more than they should. Not because Junhyeon lied, but because a part of him had hoped, maybe foolishly, that Junhyeon still cared enough to remember. 

His hands drop to his sides as he stands in the quiet room, feeling the weight of that realisation settle over him. Taerae swallows hard, brushing it off like it doesn’t matter, even though it clearly does.

Whatever it's been months since they broke up anyway, whatever Junhyeon does is none of his business, even if the business includes his own name in it. He will act and pass it.

Taerae is just about to shower when he hears his door creaking, revealing gunwook’s hesitance head. taerae raise an eyebrow, mouthing a deadpan “what.” because he just wants to go to sleep and not interacting with anyone for the rest of the night… more so with one of the people that is close to… him . 

“Can I come in?” gunwook asks in a tiny voice, taerae would find it adorable if he's not so pissed right now. 

Taerae lets out a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while the towel slips slightly off his shoulder. He feels drained, and Gunwook’s hesitant presence isn’t helping. The last thing Taerae wants is to navigate through this awkward conversation, especially with someone close to him—close to Junhyeon. 

“You are already here, anyway. what is it?” 

Gunwook close the door silently, as if trying to not catch the other members attention- whos busy watching tv together at the living room, which is why taerae just want to shut down before Hanbin come in just in case he wants to sleep in the room tonight (it's a rare occasion). 

Gunwook’s tiny voice echoes in his ears again, “How… how are you, hyung?” 

Taerae raises an eyebrow, barely suppressing the irritation bubbling up inside him. His words come out sharper than intended. “Fine? Tired? I don’t know, what do you want me to say?” 

Gunwook’s shoulders flinch ever so slightly, and for a moment, Taerae regrets the harsh tone. But before the guilt can settle, he quickly pushes it aside. He’s not in the mood to apologize right now. Maybe tomorrow. Tonight, all he wants is quiet — peace. And definitely not Gunwook standing there looking like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

Gunwook shifts his feet again, biting his lower lip like he’s contemplating something heavier than the surface-level small talk. Taerae’s frown deepens despite his best efforts to keep his face neutral.

It’s clear there’s something more on the younger boy’s mind, and as much as Taerae wants to brush it off, tell him to leave so he can shower and forget about everything for the night, he knows Gunwook won’t leave until he says what he came to say. 

“Well…” Gunwook rubs his palms nervously on his pants, the strange tension in the room thick enough to cut through. Taerae watches him with furrowed brows, half-expecting another awkward pause, when suddenly Gunwook mumbles something unintelligible. 

“What?” 

Gunwook’s eyes widen briefly before he rushes the words out, his voice blending into a nervous jumble, “Wellhaveyouseenthefansignvideoaboutyourbirthdayfromhim?” 

Taerae blinks, momentarily stunned. He knows Gunwook is a talented rapper—too talented for his age—but using that skill to mumble words in a rush wasn’t exactly something Taerae admired right now. “Sorry, what?” 

Gunwook stammers, his face flushing as he opens his mouth, then closes it again, clearly struggling with how to phrase it. Eventually, he lets out a long, weary sigh. “Have you seen the fansign video… from him… about you?” 

Taerae’s stomach churns at the mention, his eyes involuntarily widening. He hadn’t expected that to come up tonight. Gunwook’s hesitant words hang in the air, thick with unspoken tension. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah… oh ,” Gunwook nods, still watching him carefully, as if any sudden movement could shatter the fragile calm that Taerae was clinging to.

Taerae tries to keep his face blank, mask his real emotions behind the practised neutrality he’s spent years perfecting to become an idol. “I’ve seen it.” His voice is calm, too calm. “Is that why you’re asking about my condition all of a sudden?” 

The silence stretches on, and Taerae can hear the faint noise of the other members laughing in the living room, the contrast almost cruel as Gunwook hesitates again, his eyes darting around the room like he’s considering backing out of this entire conversation. 

When Gunwook finally speaks, his words slice through the quiet like a cold knife, and Taerae feels his blood begin to boil.

“How about you talk to him about it?” 

The words settle over Taerae like a weight, and for a moment, everything freezes. The buzzing anger he’s kept tightly controlled all day threatens to spill over the edge. He clenches his jaw, feeling the muscles tighten as his heartbeat accelerates. 

“Talk to him?” Taerae repeats, his voice sharp and laced with incredulity, as if Gunwook had suggested the most ridiculous thing imaginable. His fists curl slightly at his sides, though he doesn’t move, standing still like a taut wire on the verge of snapping.

Gunwook flinches at the shift in Taerae’s tone but holds his ground, clearly knowing he’s treading on dangerous territory. “Hyung, I just think—” 

“No,” Taerae cuts him off, the control he’d been desperately trying to maintain slipping through his fingers. His voice is cold, almost biting now. “There’s nothing left to talk about.” 

The younger boy opens his mouth again, but Taerae holds up a hand, stopping him. “Just… stop. Talking to him won’t change anything.” His voice shakes slightly at the end, betraying the raw emotion that still lingers beneath the surface, no matter how hard he tries to suppress it. 

Gunwook looks at him with wide eyes, clearly torn between wanting to push further and knowing he’s already on thin ice. Taerae can see the concern in his expression, but right now, it only fuels the anger simmering inside him. 

Taerae steps back, the weight of everything crashing down on him, and though he knows he’s already on the edge, he can’t stop himself. “Gunwookie, I know you’re friends with him. Best friends even. But just because he’s your friend doesn’t mean you have to get involved in all of this.” 

He can see Gunwook’s face crumple at the words, guilt and confusion twisting in his expression, but Taerae’s emotions are spiralling too fast to stop now. His voice rises, more strained with each word. 

“He talks about me. I know it’s not entirely his fault, the fans ask about me since they don’t know… but he could’ve said something different! Anything! He could’ve said he didn’t have time, that he was busy, but no—he had the nerve to say he texted me on my birthday? Lying through his teeth like it was nothing when everyone knows he blocked me first!” 

Taerae can hear the tremor in his own voice, the flood of anger, hurt, and frustration all bubbling over. He feels the weight of it in his chest, heavier with every breath. 

“I know he’s fucking sick of hearing my name coming out from his fans mouth because he doesnt give a fuck anymore and he has no idea how am I doing unless you told him, which will not surprise me at all while I’m here have to watch all these videos of him just lying and lying as if things are good while we are far from that! And you come here asking if I’m fine, well what do you think, Gunwook? Are you gonna tell him that I'm miserable now that he missed my birthday while I did wish his birthday this year despite us being on edge at the time.” 

His voice breaks, and it’s only when he feels the wetness on his cheeks that he realises he’s crying. He tries to blink the tears away, but they fall faster than he can stop them. His vision blurs, and through the haze, he notices movement at the door. 

Hanbin and Jiwoong stand there, concerned etched deeply into their expressions. Gunwook is on the verge of tears too, his lower lip trembling as he tries to hold himself together. 

And just like that, the full weight of what Taerae’s done hits him all at once. He feels like a villain—a monster, even—unloading all this on Gunwook, who never deserved any of it. 

Gunwook’s voice is small, barely above a whisper, but Taerae hears it clearly. “…I’m sorry for bringing this up, hyung.” 

Great. Now Taerae feels even worse. 

Taerae wipes his tears roughly, avoiding Hanbin and Jiwoong’s concerned gazes as he steps toward Gunwook. Without another word, he pulls the younger boy into a tight hug. Gunwook immediately crumples into him, soft sobs shaking his frame as he mutters quiet apologies over and over. 

“I’m sorry too…” Taerae whispers, his voice still hoarse. He pats Gunwook’s back gently, trying to calm the younger down even though his own heart is still racing. “I’m not mad at you, Gunwookie. Don’t blame yourself.” 

Gunwook nods against his shoulder, his grip tightening around Taerae as he sobs a little harder. Taerae closes his eyes, trying to breathe through the overwhelming emotions swirling inside him. He never meant to hurt Gunwook, and now, seeing him like this, it only makes the guilt weight heavier on him. 

Eventually, Gunwook’s sobs quiet down, and Taerae pulls back slightly, keeping a hand on his shoulder for reassurance. He turns his head toward the door, where Hanbin and Jiwoong are still standing, their concern practically radiating off them. 

Hanbin, always the mediator, mouths a silent ‘We need to talk later’ with a look that screams don’t avoid this. 

Taerae, still emotionally drained and not ready for another round of heavy conversation, meets Hanbin’s gaze and mouths back a clear and firm ‘no.’ He knows what Hanbin is thinking, but he’s not in the space for it. Not tonight. 

Jiwoong steps forward a little, his expression softer, but he says nothing, clearly understanding that this wasn’t the time to push.Taerae can feel their care, their worry, but all he wants now is quiet. To shut the door on this mess, at least for a few hours. 

Taerae gives Gunwook’s shoulder a final squeeze, a silent gesture of comfort, before letting go. “You okay now?” he asks gently, though his own voice is still raw from everything that’s come out. 

Gunwook sniffs, wiping his tears with the back of his hand as he nods weakly. “Yeah… I’m okay.” 

“Good,” Taerae murmurs. “I’m sorry again. You should get some rest, I love you.” 

Gunwook hesitates for a moment but nods again, his expression soft with lingering guilt, before he shuffles toward the door. As he passes Hanbin and Jiwoong, they both give him gentle pats on the back, offering him some silent comfort. 

The door closes softly behind him, leaving Taerae standing in the room, exhausted, still processing everything that just happened. He lets out a shaky breath, feeling like he’s just run an emotional marathon. 

Hanbin looks like he wants to say something, but Taerae holds up a hand, stopping him before he can start. “Not tonight, Hanbin. I can’t… not tonight.” 

Hanbin opens his mouth as if to argue, but then sighs, nodding. “Alright… but we will talk about it soon, okay? You can’t bottle this up.” 

Taerae gives him a half-hearted nod, already feeling his defences rising. He appreciates Hanbin’s concern, but right now, he just needs space. Jiwoong gives him a small nod of understanding, and without another word, the two quietly leave, closing the door behind them. 

Now alone, Taerae lets out a deep sigh, rubbing his face roughly with both hands. His mind is a mess, his emotions a whirlwind he can’t seem to settle. He stares at the bathroom door, still needing that shower, but suddenly too tired to even take the steps toward it. 

Instead, he collapses onto his bed, pulling the covers over his head, trying to shut out the world—trying to shut out the memories of the video, the lies, and the storm still raging inside him. 

ִ ࣪𖤐

Taerae stares at his reflection in the mirror, the new pink-to-orange gradient of his hair catching the light as he adjusts his collar. He told the company he wanted to switch it up, claiming the fans were getting tired of seeing him with the same look. But deep down, he knew it had nothing to do with the fans. He just wanted to feel different—new, somehow. 

Just like when he’d bleached his hair blond after breaking up with Junhyeon. That time, no one had suspected anything, thinking the company was just testing out new concepts. It was easier to let them believe that, easier to hide behind those excuses than to admit to himself—or anyone else—how lost he felt. 

It had been a few days since his conversation with Gunwook. It didn’t end well, and ever since, Taerae had been keeping his head down, avoiding the concerned glances from his members. He knows they want to check in, but he isn’t ready to talk. Not about that. Not about the feelings he thought he’d buried months ago, now bubbling back to the surface like a wound reopening. 

Taerae blinks at his reflection, the pink-orange strands of his hair almost mocking him with their vibrancy. He doesn’t feel fresh. He doesn’t feel new. He feels trapped, stuck in the same cycle of emotions he thought he’d left behind. But he couldn’t stop thinking about him . Couldn’t stop feeling like the clingy, emotional person he always was around Junhyeon, no matter how hard he tried to push it all away. 

He sighs, his hands stilling in his hair as memories of Junhyeon flooded back. He knows he is being childish again, wallowing in emotions he should’ve moved on from by now. But he couldn’t help it. He had always been like this when it came to Junhyeon. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself. Tonight isn’t  about the past—it is about the SBS Gayo Daejeon performance. He has to focus. He has to keep it together. 

But even as he opens his eyes again, he can’t shake the feeling that no matter how much he changed his hair, or tried to bury the memories, he is still the same Taerae. The one who couldn’t quite let go.

Even when they were together, Taerae had always been the one who clung a little too tight. The one who talked too much, rambled about anything and everything just to fill the silence. He was the spoiled one in the relationship, the one who wore his heart on his sleeve. Everyone knew that. It was no surprise that, whenever they fought, it was Zerobaseone who had to deal with the aftermath. The members had been used to it even during Boys Planet, the tension between him and Junhyeon simmering in the background. 

But their fights had only gotten worse after debut. Junhyeon was struggling—trying to build a new image, trying to navigate the weight of expectations on his shoulders. Taerae wanted to be there for him, but all they seemed to do was clash. Their schedules, their stresses—it all compounded until it felt like they were constantly on the verge of another argument. 

And yet, somehow, they had managed to survive it back then. They talked, they communicated. They had loved each other enough to try. They had loved each other enough to push through the rough patches… until they didn’t. 

Taerae didn’t know what went wrong when, toward the end of the year, both of them started feeling tired—burdened, even—by the weight of their relationship. 

The texts slowed to a trickle. The calls became shorter, more forced. Updates became almost nonexistent, leaving gaps that Taerae tried to fill in on his own. At one point, he had resorted to checking Tiot’s X page just to see what Junhyeon was up to, trying to piece together his life through the fragments posted for public eyes. It had felt pathetic at the time, but Taerae couldn’t help it. 

Now, he knows better than to act like he can brush those feelings aside. The members understand, to some extent, how fragile he becomes when Junhyeon’s name is mentioned. And though he knows it’s not fair—especially considering how close the members are to Junhyeon—Taerae can’t help but feel the sting. 

He can’t be friends with Junhyeon, not like the others. He can’t stand the idea of being friendly with someone who used to pull him close on cold nights, someone whose kisses used to feel like home. That level of detachment, of pretending everything is fine, is something Taerae just can’t muster. Not with him . 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of it all pressing down again. It’s silly—how his mind keeps circling back to the same person, the same memories, as if they are stuck on loop. And all the while, Junhyeon is probably out there, having the time of his life, untouched by the same worries. Untouched by him. 

Taerae chuckles bitterly at the thought. He knew better than to assume anything about Junhyeon’s state of mind, but it’s hard to shake the image of him moving on effortlessly, while Taerae is still left reeling in the background. 

Brushing off those thoughts, Taerae straightens his posture as he left the restroom, heading toward the rest of the members. They are waiting for the SBS Gayo Daejeon Summer red carpet to start, already falling into their pre-event rhythm of chatting and joking around. 

He plasters a smile onto his face as the cameras flash and the fans call out his name, the noise and lights almost overwhelming. But he’s good at this. Masking his emotions, pretending he’s fine—that’s part of the job. 

Whatever this feeling is… it would go away. It had to. 

Even if it never truly left him. 

ִ ࣪𖤐

Taerae is deep into a rewatch of *Queen of Tears*—the same episode he always circled back to whenever he needs a good cry, the one that tugs at him just enough without breaking him completely—when the door creaks open and Jiwoong casually slips inside. Taerae doesn’t even glance over, figuring his hyung is just passing through, but then Jiwoong flops onto the bed next to him, making himself comfortable. 

Without so much as a word, Jiwoong plucks one of Taerae’s earbuds out and stick it in his ear like he owns the place. Taerae blinks at him in surprise, pressing pause as he turns to look at Jiwoong."What are you doing?" he asks, one eyebrow raised. 

Jiwoong looks back at him as if Taerae was the one interrupting his moment. "Why did you pause?" 

Taerae opens his mouth to retort, to tell Jiwoong that he is the one barging in uninvited, but then thought better of it. He sighs, letting it go. Fine. If Jiwoong wants to act like nothing is weird about this, Taerae can play along. 

He presses play again, and for a while, they watch in silence. But Taerae finds it impossible to focus on the drama now. Not when Jiwoong is lying so close, his quiet presence making Taerae hyper aware of the fact that he had—of all the episodes—chosen the absolute saddest one to rewatch. A low, tragic melody plays in his ear, filling the space between them with something melancholic and raw. 

Taerae glances at Jiwoong from the corner of his eye, waiting for him to say something. Anything. But Jiwoong stays quiet, eyes glue to the screen as if he is completely absorbed in the drama. 

Finally, Taerae pulls the earbud out and heaves an exaggerated sigh. "Hyung." 

Jiwoong doesn’t even look away from the screen. "What?" he deadpans, the word so dry it makes Taerae scowl a little. 

"If I ask you to leave, would you?" Taerae asks, his tone carrying just the tiniest bit of frustration now. 

"No." Jiwoong’s response is instant, completely matter-of-fact. 

Taerae groans softly, rubbing at his temples. "Then why are you here?" His voice pitches with exasperation now, but even he knows it isn’t just about Jiwoong invading his space. There is something else simmering under the surface, something Jiwoong isn’t saying, and it’s starting to get on his nerves. 

"Can’t I be with you for fun?" Jiwoong shoots back, his tone as casual as if that is really the reason. 

But Taerae knows better. He knows Jiwoong isn't just here for idle company, not when the air between them feels charged, full of unsaid words. 

"Come on, hyung," Taerae says, voice softer now, but pointed. "You're not fooling anyone. What's really going on?" 

He waits, eyes on Jiwoong, watching for the telltale shift in his expression that would give him away. And just as he expects, Jiwoong hesitates, his gaze flickering slightly before settling back on the screen. 

Taerae shifts uncomfortably, glancing at Jiwoong with a furrowed brow. “Seriously, hyung. What is it?” He sits up, locking his phone, cutting off any excuse for Jiwoong to keep watching. Jiwoong has that unreadable look on his face again—the blank expression he’d perfected, like a character on screen. it’s hard to read jiwoong when he has that actor look on his face. 

Jiwoong sighs softly. “I just wanted to check on you, alright?” 

Taerae narrows  his eyes at him, silently pushing for more. That is not enough. 

“You’ve been locking yourself in this room every time we get home,” Jiwoong continues, his voice a little firmer now. “And don’t give me the tired excuse. We’re all tired, but everyone else comes out of their room, they eat in the kitchen. I can’t even remember the last time I saw you have a meal. What’s going on, Taerae?”

Guilt rushes through him like a wave. He bits his lip, feeling small under Jiwoong’s concerned gaze. “I don’t know what’s going on with me either,” he mumbles. 

Jiwoong sighs, but this time it’s soft, almost tender. Without a word, he pulls Taerae into his arms, holding him close. Taerae sinks into the embrace, his heart heavy. Maybe this is what he needs—to just be held, to feel like someone cared. 

“I don’t know, hyung,” Taerae whispers, his voice wavering. “I feel bad… about everything. It’s driving me insane.” 

Jiwoong hesitates for a moment before asking, “Is it about him?”

At the mention of him , Taerae freezes. The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. He isn’t  even sure how to answer. “I’m not sure,” he finally whispers, his voice small. 

Jiwoong exhales as though the weight Taerae is carrying is somehow his own, too. “I don’t know everything that happened,” Jiwoong said, his tone gentle but firm.

“But I do know how you both fell for each other. I’m not here to tell you what’s right or wrong. But Taerae, you have to take care of yourself first. You can’t keep letting this eat you alive. Don’t let your thoughts be consumed by him.” 

Taerae can’t help it. He starts crying—quiet, exhausted sobs that makes him feel weak and frustrated. Why does he feel like this? Why is everything so heavy all the time? Is it really all about Junhyeon, or is it something deeper? Something he can’t name? 

“I’m sure Junhyeon would feel sad if he saw you like this,” Jiwoong adds, his voice soft, almost hesitant. 

“I don’t think he would,” Taerae mutters, the bitterness slipping out before he can stop it. He knows it’s not fair, but he can’t  stand hearing people tell him that Junhyeon still cares. It doesn’t feel like it. Not anymore. 

Jiwoong sighs again, but this time it’s full of understanding, not disappointment. “Take your time, alright? You don’t have to figure it out all at once. But don’t keep it bottled up. We’re all here for you. You don’t have to do this alone.” 

Taerae nods, his heart aching at Jiwoong’s words. He’s grateful—more than he can say—for Jiwoong to be here. For being the hyung who always seemed to know what to say, who can give advice without pushing too hard. But right now, Taerae feels like crawling under his blanket and disappearing from the world. Jiwoong’s kindness only makes him more aware of how poorly he’s been handling things, how embarrassing his behaviour has been lately. 

“Thank you, hyung,” he whispers, trying to hold himself together. “I appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” Jiwoong replies, his voice soft, full of warmth. 

They stay like that for a while, Jiwoong holding him in the quiet comfort of the room. No more words are needed. Finally, Taerae pulls away and rubs at his eyes, exhaustion catching up to him. “I think I’ll take a nap,” he murmurs, feeling a little lighter after the conversation. 

Jiwoong nods and stands up, giving Taerae’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading toward the door. “Get some rest,” he says softly before leaving. 

Taerae lay back on the bed, pulling the covers over himself. He closes his eyes, hoping—really hoping—that when he wakes up, everything wouldn’t feel quite so heavy anymore. That maybe, just maybe, he’d start feeling like himself again. 

ִ ࣪𖤐

It’s been a couple of months since Taerae watched that birthday wish video, and his busy schedule has thankfully kept it from replaying in his mind over and over again. He’s been able to distract himself with performances, rehearsals, interviews—everything that comes with being part of Zerobaseone . Tonight, they’re preparing for the third and final concert in Seoul before they head off to other countries, starting their first tour. 

Backstage is buzzing. Everyone’s hands are fidgeting, shoulders tense, each member trying to steady their nerves before stepping out onto the stage. They can’t afford any mistakes, not tonight—not in front of thousands of people who look up to them. 

But Taerae knows that he’s more nervous than any of the others. 

Their friends from Boys Planet have been showing up to support them. Seo Won came on day two, and Park Hanbin, Yunseo, and Junghyun had been there on the first night. It’s comforting to see familiar faces in the crowd, faces that know their journey, their struggles, and their successes. 

But tonight, one more familiar face is attending the concert. 

And that face is the reason Taerae’s stomach is tied in knots. 

He heard the news from Gunwook earlier. The younger boy had been practically glowing with excitement all morning. But Taerae could see how Gunwook had been tiptoeing around him, unsure of whether to fully celebrate or temper his happiness. There had been that brief moment of hesitation, that quick glance to check if Taerae was okay. 

Taerae had smiled at him like it didn’t bother him, like it was no big deal. But inside, it felt like the ground was slipping out from beneath him.His ex-boyfriend— Junhyeon —was going to be in the audience tonight. 

Watching him on stage. Watching him sing, dance, and perform with everything he’s got. Watching him give it his all, just like Taerae always does. 

Taerae’s heart is racing. No one else could possibly understand how one person in the crowd—out of thousands—could have such a powerful hold on him. Funny, really, how the presence of just one could turn a concert into a battlefield of emotions. It feels like he might pass out before even stepping on stage. 

He tries to ground himself, to breathe, to focus on the task at hand. But his mind keeps circling back to Junhyeon. Will Junhyeon even be looking at him? Or will he be just another face lost in the sea of fans, the connection between them broken beyond repair? 

Taerae clenches his fists, his hands trembling despite his best efforts to calm himself. His heart is pounding so hard he’s sure everyone can hear it. He’s faced huge crowds before. He’s performed on some of the biggest stages. And yet, the thought of Junhyeon being there tonight makes him feel small, like all the confidence he’s built up could crumble with a single glance. 

He knows he can’t let himself falter, not now. He has to focus. He has to be his best self on stage tonight, not for Junhyeon, but for his members, for the fans, for himself . This is their moment, their hard work paying off in front of thousands of people who love and support them. 

Taerae glances around the room. His members are tense but focused, each dealing with their own nerves in their own way. He catches Matthew’s eye from across the room, and the Canadian gives him a reassuring look. Gyuvin is grinning, trying to keep the mood light despite everything. 

Taerae knows he’s not alone in this. He has his members by his side. They’re in this together. 

But no matter how much he tries to focus on that, his heart refuses to settle. The thought of Junhyeon, out there in the crowd, is a weight that presses down on him. 

Just another face in the audience, he tells himself. He’s just another face.

But deep down, he knows it’s more than that. 

Someone’s hand brushes against his back, a soft, comforting touch that makes Taerae pause. He turns to find Zhanghao smiling at him, gentle and understanding. There’s no need for words between them—Zhanghao’s quiet gesture says everything. Taerae feels some of the tension ease from his shoulders, the warmth of the moment grounding him. He gives a small, grateful smile in return, taking comfort in the fact that his members are always there when he needs them. 

He inhales deeply, trying to steady himself as the seconds tick down. The stage is about to open, and the anticipation in the air is palpable. His heart beats in time with the countdown, but instead of nerves, he tries to focus on the excitement—the thrill of performing, the energy of the crowd. 

Then the stage opens. 

The roar of the audience hits him like a wave, and Taerae is momentarily blinded by the sea of lightsticks glowing in the dark. The fans look like an endless field of stars, blinking and moving as one. The sight is overwhelming, but in a good way. For a brief moment, the rush of adrenaline and the collective energy of the crowd drown out the anxious thoughts swirling in his head. 

He reminds himself that this is what he loves—performing, connecting with the fans, being on stage with his members. But still, the urge to scan the crowd for that one face lingers in the back of his mind, almost instinctively. He pushes it down, reminding himself that tonight is not about him . Not about them . It’s about this moment, the music, the fans. 

The opening notes of the first song play through the speakers, and Taerae feels the familiar pulse of the beat in his chest. He focuses on the rhythm, on his body moving in sync with his members. His voice, strong and clear, joins the music as they dive into their performance. 

It’s showtime. 

The lights are bright, the energy electric, and Taerae’s mind slowly sharpens with each move, each note.

But even as he throws himself into the performance, there’s a tiny part of him, buried deep, that wonders if Junhyeon is out there—watching him, noticing him, thinking about him. 

He can’t afford to look for him, not now. So he doesn’t. 

He gives everything to the stage, to the performance, because that’s all he can do. 

ִ ࣪𖤐ִ ࣪

The show is over—full of joy, laughter, and even a few tears. It's their last day performing in their home country, and the emotions are running high, not just for the fans but for Taerae too. There's a bittersweet sadness hanging in the air. They’ve barely begun their tour, yet it feels like the end of something special. But Taerae knows this is only the beginning. 

Now backstage, the members are scattered, greeting the special guests who’ve come to support them—family, friends, people they love and cherish. It’s one of the most important parts of the night, expressing gratitude to those who’ve made time to show their support. The feeling is overwhelming; the love from these people is beyond words. 

Everywhere Taerae looks, his members are embracing their loved ones. Some are caught up in laughter, others exchanging words of congratulations and encouragement. Flowers are being handed out, hugs are shared, and the atmosphere is warm and light. 

But Taerae stands there alone, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. His family already came on day one, and most of his friends—especially his fellow Wakeonez—showed up on day one also. There's no one left for him to greet tonight. He glances around the room, watching as everyone else seems to be absorbed in their reunions, and suddenly, he feels a little out of place. 

He thinks about slipping away to the car, maybe catching a quick nap while waiting for the others. But that feels rude, like he’s distancing himself from the group, so he stays put. He shifts again, unsure of what to do with his hands or where to look. The backstage hallway buzzes with chatter and laughter, but he feels detached, like he’s just an observer in someone else’s moment. 

His eyes dart toward the closest door, half-hoping he can make an escape unnoticed. 

Taerae decides to slip away into one of the quieter changing rooms, seeking refuge from the overwhelming buzz of family and friends filling the backstage area. The last thing he wants is to linger awkwardly in the middle of heartfelt reunions, so he heads for the comfort of solitude. 

He sinks into the nearest couch, leaving the door slightly ajar in case their manager comes looking for him, and pulls out his phone. TikTok seems like the easiest distraction right now. With every swipe, he hopes the time will pass more quickly, each video becoming a temporary escape from the buzz of emotions weighing him down. He lets the sounds of the app drown out his thoughts, his thumb scrolling absentmindedly across the screen. 

Suddenly, a loud shriek from Gunwook shatters the quiet of the room. Startled, Taerae snaps his head toward the door. At first, he thinks it's just one of Gunwook’s usual over-the-top reactions, but then his gaze lands on who’s standing beside him. 

Junhyeon. 

The sight of the younger makes Taerae’s heart stop. He can almost feel the air in the room change—heavy and thick. Junhyeon is staring right back at him, eyes wide, caught like a deer in headlights. It's as if the world outside of this room suddenly doesn’t exist. The noises from the hallway blur into white noise. 

Taerae can hear nothing but the wild thumping of his own heart, each beat reverberating through his chest like a drum, threatening to break free. His body tenses immediately. He holds his breath, willing himself to stay composed, even as his entire being betrays him. His chest tightens, and he can already feel the anxiety clawing at him, begging to escape. But no, not now. Not in front of Junhyeon. 

It feels like he's suspended in time, stuck in the painful awkwardness of this moment, where everything is too raw, too exposed.

He wills himself to keep his breathing steady, but he knows if he looks down, his chest is probably rising and falling faster than he'd like to admit. He can only hope his face doesn’t betray the storm brewing beneath his skin. 

Junhyeon doesn’t look any better, though. Taerae’s eyes flicker over him, and he notices how Junhyeon’s own chest is moving up and down far too quickly, his breaths shallow and uneven. He’s nervous too—Taerae can see it in the way Junhyeon swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. He is trying to stay composed, but the tension is unmistakable. The air between them crackles with everything they aren’t saying. 

Neither of them speaks. Neither of them moves. It’s as if they’re trapped in some unspoken stalemate, waiting for the other to do something, anything, to break the tension. The silence stretches on, heavy and suffocating, filling the room with an unspoken weight. 

Taerae’s mind races, but he can’t seem to form a single coherent thought. It’s ridiculous how much power Junhyeon still has over him, how even the mere sight of him can stir up so much inside. He grips his phone tighter, trying to ground himself, trying not to let his emotions betray him. But he can feel his pulse in his throat, and it’s taking everything in him not to show how affected he is. 

He doesn’t know if Junhyeon is going to say something, or if he should say something first. But then again, what is there to say? The room feels too small, too crowded with everything they’ve left unsaid since their breakup. 

And yet, despite the suffocating tension, despite the unresolved feelings hanging in the air, Taerae forces himself to smile. It’s not a real smile—he knows it’s stiff, almost painful, but it’s all he can manage in this moment. Anything to hide the fact that his heart is racing, that being in the same room as Junhyeon still does this to him. 

Junhyeon, on the other hand, seems frozen, his eyes still locked on Taerae, as if unsure of how to act, what to say. The awkwardness is palpable, the silence stretching between them like a wall neither of them can figure out how to break through. 

And Taerae can’t help but think—how did they end up here? Once so close, once so inseparable, now reduced to this awkward, strained silence. It’s almost cruel, how the mere presence of someone you once loved can make you feel so small, so vulnerable, like you’re teetering on the edge of something you can’t quite control. 

But Taerae won’t let Junhyeon see that. He won’t let anyone see that. He’s been through this before—he can handle this. Or at least, he hopes he can. 

Taerae barely notices Gunwook fidgeting until the younger moves, clearly preparing to leave. That’s when it hits him—he’s the one who should be leaving. This room, with this unbearable tension, isn’t a place he can stay a moment longer. He forces a smile, one that he hopes looks convincing despite the tightening in his chest, and stumbles over his words. 

“N-no, wait, I-I’ll leave, Gunwook-ah,” he says, voice strained but gentle, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. 

Taerae rises to his feet, legs feeling like they might give out at any moment, and heads toward the door. Each step takes him closer to Gunwook and Junhyeon, and the weight of the situation presses down on him like a suffocating blanket. He feels exposed, fragile, like one wrong move will cause him to shatter. But he keeps walking, forcing his body to move as if his knees aren’t trembling, as if his heart isn’t racing so violently he’s afraid it might burst through his chest. 

Just as he’s about to pass them, Junhyeon’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and clear. 

“Kim Taerae.” 

Taerae freezes mid-step. It’s been so long since he’s heard his full name spoken in *that* voice, and it feels like someone has reached inside his chest and gripped his heart, twisting it painfully. He isn’t ready for this—not now, not when he’s only just started piecing himself back together.

His breath hitches, and for a split second, he contemplates pretending he didn’t hear it, walking away like nothing happened. 

But then he feels a hand gently tugging at his arm. He turns slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of Gunwook’s worried expression. The younger looks torn, glancing between Taerae and Junhyeon as if unsure of what to do next. Taerae knows what Gunwook’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. The weight of the situation is too much for him, and Taerae can’t blame him for wanting to leave. 

“It’s... alright, hyung, I’ll go,” Gunwook murmurs, his voice filled with concern. 

Taerae stands frozen by the door, watching as Gunwook makes his exit, leaving the two of them alone in the room. Before stepping out, Gunwook throws him a soft nod, as if silently wishing him luck, as if sensing the turbulent emotions swirling in the air. Taerae wants to cling to that nod, to draw strength from it, but all he feels is a sinking dread settling in the pit of his stomach. 

The door clicks shut behind Gunwook, and suddenly, the room feels too small, too quiet, the space between Taerae and Junhyeon filled with all the words they’ve left unsaid. Taerae’s pulse is still racing, his mind screaming at him to leave, to run, but his feet won’t move. He’s waiting for Junhyeon to say something—anything—but the silence stretches on, thick and unbearable. 

Taerae can hear his own shallow breaths as he forces himself to breathe quietly, unwilling to let the sound of his anxiety betray him. He stands there, facing the door, his back to Junhyeon, waiting for the other to speak. The seconds crawl by, each one heavier than the last, until finally, Taerae can’t stand it anymore. 

He clears his throat, barely turning his head toward Junhyeon. “I’m leaving,” he says, his voice strained, not daring to meet the other’s gaze. 

There’s a beat of silence, and just as Taerae is about to step forward, Junhyeon’s voice cuts through again. 

“Alright.” 

The word is simple, almost dismissive, but it sends a shockwave through Taerae’s entire being. He spins around faster than he intends, eyes wide in disbelief. He can’t help it—Junhyeon’s response is so unexpected, so... hollow. 

“ Sorry ?” Taerae blurts out, the word slipping out before he can stop himself. 

Junhyeon only looks back at him, confused, as if he has no idea why Taerae would react this way. There’s no anger, no urgency in his expression—just a distant, unreadable look that makes Taerae’s stomach twist even more. 

“N-nevermind,” Taerae mutters under his breath, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He wants to yell at Junhyeon, to ask him what the hell he’s doing calling him by his full name like that, acting like he still holds some kind of power over him. And then to just say ‘alright’? As if none of this matters? As if Taerae leaving is of no consequence to him? It’s infuriating, and Taerae doesn’t know how to process the whirlwind of emotions surging through him. 

He should leave—he knows that much. He needs to get out of this room before he says something he’ll regret. But as Taerae turns to leave, Junhyeon stays silent, unmoving, as if he’s waiting for Taerae to go. 

The room feels suffocating, the weight of their unresolved past hanging between them like a thick fog. Taerae swallows the lump forming in his throat, forcing his feet to move, to carry him out of the room. But even as he walks away, Junhyeon’s earlier words echo in his mind, the way he said Taerae’s full name in front of Gunwook, as if he’s still making a point—like Junhyeon knows he still has an effect on him, and is reminding Taerae of that fact. 

And Taerae hates that it’s true. 

He’s just as surprised at his own reaction, the way his body responds involuntarily to Junhyeon’s presence. Even after everything, after all the time that’s passed, the impact is still there—raw, unhealed, like a wound he can’t seem to fully close. 

By the time he’s out of the room, Taerae’s mind is spinning. He can’t let Gunwook ask him about this later—there’s nothing to say. Nothing happened. No conversation, no meaningful exchange, no closure. 

They didn’t even look each other in the eyes. 

It’s over. 

As he walks away, Taerae swallows down the bitter lump rising in his throat, slipping in his earbuds without playing any music. He needs an excuse not to talk to anyone for the rest of the night. He just wants to be alone, to process, to let the quiet envelop him so he can breathe again. 

Because right now, being around anyone—even the people he trusts—feels impossible. 

ִ ࣪𖤐ִ ࣪

It’s been a few days since their Seoul concert wrapped up, and Taerae is back in front of his phone screen, this time in Singapore, ready for their next show tomorrow. His brown hair is slightly damp from the shower, and he’s on voice live as he greets the fans, eager to reconnect after what feels like too long. 

The comments flood in fast, as usual, full of excitement, support, and endless love. Taerae reads through them, laughing softly at the familiar names and jokes, his mood light and airy. 

“Taerae, you don’t want to do ‘Over Me’?” one comment catches his attention. 

“Of course I want to do ‘Over Me,’” Taerae replies with a playful grin, moving from comment to comment, trying to pick which ones to respond to. 

But as he scrolls, he notices a pattern. Many comments aren’t about the song or the concert, but rather about *them*. The same old thing from *Boys Planet*, the one question that always manages to find its way into every fan interaction. 

Questions about Junhyeon. 

He tries to ignore them at first, scrolling past quickly, hoping something else will catch his eye. But it seems like the more he skips, the more they appear, flooding his screen with curiosity, speculation, and assumptions. It feels like everyone is holding their breath, waiting for an update on the ‘pairing’ that fans have clung to since their trainee days. 

And then, before he can stop himself, he reads one aloud. 

“Someone asked if I took a selca with Junhyeon on the last day of the concert in Seoul...” Taerae pauses, his smile faltering just a little. He feels a pang in his chest, and he knows he has no choice but to answer, even if it’s far from the truth.

 “We shook hands,” he says, his voice casual, though there’s a slight tremor he hopes the fans don’t catch. “But he was avoiding me.” He lets out a soft chuckle at the end, trying to keep it light, as if it’s a funny memory. But the sound feels hollow, even to his own ears. 

The silence that follows feels heavy, pressing down on him. He stares at the screen, eyes scanning the flood of surprised comments. 

What… 

Is this real?

You’re lying… right?

This can’t be!!!

The fans are shocked, and he can’t blame them. His words hang in the air, and for a second, Taerae wonders if he’s said too much. He feels the weight of their curiosity, their desire for answers, and it presses on him in a way that’s all too familiar. He swallows thickly, his throat suddenly dry, before he forces out a laugh—one that feels anything but real.

“I’m joking!” he adds quickly, trying to save the situation. “We shook hands awkwardly because it’s been a while since we last saw each other.” 

He laughs again, louder this time, faking it so convincingly that he almost believes it himself. Almost. 

But the truth burns in his chest, threatening to surface. They didn’t shake hands. They didn’t even look at each other. Whatever connection they once had was gone—if it had ever been there at all. The past had a way of haunting him in moments like this, creeping up when he least expected it, tugging at old wounds he thought had healed. 

Taerae forces himself to refocus, his eyes scanning for new comments, anything to distract him from the sinking feeling in his gut. He replies to more fans, smiling and laughing, keeping up the facade of cheerfulness, pushing down the uncomfortable truth that’s clawing at him from the inside. 

He knows he’ll have to face it eventually. The questions, the unresolved tension, the way his chest tightens at the mere mention of Junhyeon. But not now. Not here, in front of the fans.

For now, Taerae buries it deep, beneath layers of jokes and smiles, letting himself get lost in the warmth of his fans. He’ll deal with the rest—his inner turmoil—later, when the world isn’t watching. 

ִ ࣪𖤐ִ ࣪

To say Taerae is surprised would be an understatement. 

He's the kind of person who likes to start his mornings slow, staring at the ceiling while calculating the day ahead before finally getting out of bed. A routine-oriented guy, Taerae seldom deviates from his plan. On most days, he follows it religiously—brushing his teeth, checking his phone, grabbing breakfast, and mentally preparing himself before tackling his schedule. 

But today isn’t like most days. 

This morning, he skips breakfast and doesn’t even bother brushing his teeth first thing. That alone should’ve been a warning sign—an indicator that something is off. Yet, it doesn’t quite hit him yet. He even forgot about the game he promised to play with Yujin and Ricky last night, and now the two are side-eyeing him like he broke some unspoken law of friendship. Taerae only replies with an apologetic smile and giggles, brushing off their playful annoyance. 

He should’ve known something unexpected was coming. 

But nothing could have prepared him for the jolt that hits him when he finally turns off Do Not Disturb on his phone. Notifications come pouring in, the screen filling up with updates and messages. And there, sitting right at the top of it all, is a name— that name. 

The moment he sees it, his breath catches in his throat. His fingers falter, and for a second, he almost drops the phone. The world around him blurs, and the simple routine that he usually finds so comforting now feels irrelevant. 

He should’ve expected surprises, but this… this is a different kind of shock. 

Taerae blinks rapidly, willing himself to wake up from what feels like a strange dream. His eyes scan the notification again, but no matter how many times he rereads it, the message doesn’t disappear. 

J

hi?

"Hi?!" he mutters in disbelief, his voice louder than he intends. The sound of it breaks the surreal haze, and suddenly, it feels real . Too real. His pulse quickens as he opens the message, his thumb hovering over the screen as if unsure whether to proceed. 

The chat history is still there, untouched. The last message sent was from him—raw, furious, and cutting. "Fuck you." He had been so angry when Junhyeon blocked him that he didn’t even bother trying to make amends. What was the point if his texts couldn’t even go through? 

But now, he’s here—Junhyeon, who hadn’t so much as glanced in his direction for months, suddenly sending a casual *"hi?"* like nothing had happened. Like it was normal to pick up where they left off. 

Taerae stares at the screen, unsure of what to say or even if he should say anything at all. His mind races, trying to process why this is happening now. What is Junhyeon trying to do? 

Before he can type a response, the familiar sight of a typing bubble appears. His heart pounds in his chest, each second stretching longer than the last. 

A new message pops up. 

J

it's junhyeon, btw

A bitter chuckle escapes Taerae before he can stop himself. Like he could ever forget. As if his whole body hadn't tensed at the mere sight of his name. 

His fingers hover over the screen, still unsure. Should he respond? Should he leave it? Should he pretend nothing happened? 

But before he can think it through—before his brain can catch up with what his heart is screaming—he’s already pressing the call button. The sound of the ringing line is deafening in his ears, a decision made faster than any rational thought. 

He’ll regret this. He knows he will. But for some reason, he can’t stop himself. 

The call rings once, twice, and by the third ring, Taerae is almost convinced Junhyeon won’t answer. Maybe he chickened out—maybe this was just a cruel prank to toy with his emotions one last time. But just as his finger hovers over the screen to hang up, the call connects on the fourth ring. 

“…hello?” 

Junhyeon’s voice is soft, hesitant. Almost like he’s afraid of what’s coming next. 

“I know,” Taerae says, his tone unexpectedly cold. The chill in his own voice surprises him, but he doesn’t soften it. Not after everything. 

There’s a brief pause, then Junhyeon speaks again. “Know what?” 

“I know it’s you,” Taerae replies, his words sharper now, more pointed. 

Junhyeon lets out a small, almost amused breath. “You didn’t delete my number?” 

The nerve in his voice—like he’s fascinated by the idea—makes Taerae’s blood simmer. He grips his phone tightly, forcing himself to stay calm. “Yeah. I didn’t. And I didn’t delete the old texts, either. Or the pictures. Or throw away any of the… things.” His voice cracks slightly at the end, betraying the bitterness swelling in his chest. 

He hears Junhyeon inhale sharply on the other side of the line. “Me too,” Junhyeon admits, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Taerae’s chest tightens at the admission, but he doesn’t let the words soften him. “But you blocked me,” he snaps, his voice trembling now. All his attempts to stay tough are unravelling, and hearing Junhyeon’s voice—so familiar, so painfully intimate—makes it even worse. “That makes a difference.” 

The silence that follows is thick, suffocating. Taerae can almost hear Junhyeon carefully choosing his next words, probably weighing what to say to fix this. But the longer the silence stretches, the more it burns. The more infuriating it becomes. 

Say something, Taerae begs silently. Just say something, please.

But the seconds drag on, and nothing comes. The quiet starts to gnaw at Taerae, the ache in his chest growing unbearable. His grip on the phone tightens again, his frustration boiling over. Why had he even called in the first place? What did he expect? An apology? Closure? 

This is so stupid, he thinks. I should’ve never— 

Finally, Taerae can’t take it anymore. “Wow, you can’t even acknowledge that you blocked me,” he spits out, his voice trembling with emotion. “I was expecting at least a reason—a half-hearted one, anything. You blocked my number, and what? You assumed I deleted yours, too? Do you think we’re the same? Do you think this was easy for me? I didn’t delete your number because I knew—I knew—that we were over, and there was no fixing us. But you? You made it easy for me. You left me with no way to back out first, no chance to say my piece, because you couldn’t wait to just leave—” 

“Taerae,” Junhyeon interrupts, his voice soft but firm. “I saw the live.” 

For a moment, the words don’t register. Taerae’s breath catches in his throat, and he can feel the sting of tears welling up behind his eyes. No. No, no, no .

He swipes at his face hastily, only now realising that he’s crying— sobbing , even—as the familiar ache of betrayal twists in his chest. “What live?” he croaks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“The one about me,” Junhyeon says quietly. 

Taerae feels like his soul is being torn from his body. His entire frame freezes in place, his hand clenched into a fist so tightly that his nails dig crescents into his palm. He can’t stand the distance, the fact that they’re only connected by a phone line and not face-to-face. It’s too much to handle—too much emotion crashing together, making him want to crush the phone in his hand. 

The memory of that night floods back—his awkward words, the forced laughter, trying to brush off something he wasn’t ready to face, not even with his fans. And Junhyeon had seen it. Heard him fumble through the lie. 

He sucks in a deep breath, the sound loud and shaky, followed by a sharp sniffle. “What about it?” he says, his voice thin, strained. 

Junhyeon’s breathing is just as heavy in Taerae’s ear, like he’s trying to steady himself too. “Why would you say that?” 

“Say what?” Taerae frowns, irritation seeping into his tone, his chest tightening further. 

“That I was avoiding you,” Junhyeon presses, and though he’s clearly holding back, Taerae can sense the frustration simmering beneath the surface. In the past, he might’ve appreciated Junhyeon’s restraint.But now? He just wants Junhyeon to let it all out, to scream, to argue, so they can get this over with. Dragging it out is killing him. 

“Were you not?” Taerae snaps, his voice rising, thick with pent-up hurt. “You didn’t say a thing when Gunwook left us alone. It was a chance! I waited—I waited for you to say something, to stop me, but no! Nothing! And when I finally got up to leave, you didn’t even try to stop me! All you said was, ‘Alright.’” His breath comes in shallow, ragged bursts now, his words trembling with anger and something deeper, something more raw. “You hate being around me so much that you can’t even stand being in the same room with me? How are you so unaffected by this? Am I the only one struggling here?!” 

His voice cracks under the weight of his frustration, his sobs becoming louder, more desperate. His chest is heaving with the force of it, and he knows—he knows—that his members can hear him from the other room, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters right now. 

Junhyeon’s voice, when it comes, is so quiet that Taerae can barely hear it through the flood of his own sobs. “...I think we should talk again when we’re both calmer.” 

That small, measured voice—so calm, so collected—makes Taerae’s anger surge all over again. He doesn’t say anything in response. He just stares blankly at the phone, his heart pounding in his ears, before ending the call with a swipe of his thumb. In the same motion, he blocks Junhyeon’s number. 

As soon as the line disconnects, Taerae collapses onto the floor, his knees giving out beneath him as sobs wrack his entire body. He cries and cries, unable to stop. It’s an ugly, raw sound—everything he’s been holding in for so long pouring out all at once. 

He wants to hate Junhyeon. He wants to, but it’s impossible. The truth is, he hates himself more. He hates himself for being so fragile, for letting this break him. Junhyeon is younger, still learning, still figuring things out, and Taerae? He should’ve been the stronger one, the one guiding Junhyeon through this. But instead, he’d lashed out, pointing fingers, blaming him for everything that went wrong. 

He clutches his head in his hands, his sobs growing quieter but no less painful. The guilt settles like poison in his veins, thick and toxic, making everything feel worse. He feels weak. Pathetic. 

He hates that he craves love so badly, that he needs it like air. He hates that when it’s withheld, it tears him apart, leaving him desperately trying to find reasons to despise the person he once loved so much. He hates how easily his heart breaks when the affection he gives isn’t returned. 

But most of all, he hates that part of him— a huge part —still loves Junhyeon. And no matter how much he cries or how much he tries to convince himself otherwise, that feeling remains, heavy in his chest, drowning him in regret. 

He feels so, so lost. 

ִ ࣪𖤐ִ ࣪

It was late November, the autumn air growing chillier as winter quietly approached. Taerae had always thought of himself as a summer person, but there was something about the cold months that warmed his heart, like a quiet invitation to draw closer to those around him. Winter made him crave warmth—made him want to be enveloped by it. 

With a cup of coffee cradled in his hands, Taerae moved briskly down the street, a cap pulled low over his brow and a mask concealing most of his face. He had bundled up warmly, hoping that his familiar figure wouldn’t attract too much attention. Thankfully, the streets weren’t too crowded, but he still kept his head down, cautious. It wouldn’t be a small deal if anyone caught on to where he was headed. 

But the thought of his destination sent excited flutters through his chest, making it hard to contain his giddiness. He felt like a kid on his way to a secret meeting. 

Taking a left turn down a quieter, more secluded alley behind a small convenience store, Taerae spotted him. The tall, lean figure standing in the distance made his heart leap. There he was, with those broad shoulders that Taerae loved resting his hands on.His posture was casual, confident yet at ease, his arms crossed in that familiar stance Taerae had always found so endearing. 

Junhyeon’s outfit mirrored Taerae’s—warm and practical, though he wasn’t wearing a cap, letting his tousled dark hair fall freely, almost covering his intense brown eyes. Under the soft daylight, the faint brown undertones in his hair were more noticeable, softening his sharp, brooding appearance even as the mask concealed most of his face. 

Taerae couldn’t help it—his joy bubbled over. With an excited squeal, he ran toward Junhyeon, throwing himself into the younger’s arms. His sudden enthusiasm pulled a laugh from Junhyeon, a sound Taerae had missed far more than he cared to admit. 

As they embraced, Taerae tipped his head back slightly, eyes crinkling with unrestrained happiness as he gazed up through the brim of his cap. “Hi.” 

“Hi, baby,” Junhyeon replied, his voice warm and soft, like he, too, had been waiting for this moment. The way Taerae melted into his arms, fitting perfectly against him, made Junhyeon’s heart skip a beat. 

“I missed you,” Taerae murmured, squeezing tighter, his words muffled by the proximity and the fabric of their masks. He couldn’t resist pressing a small kiss to Junhyeon’s lips, though the masks between them made it feel more like a tease than a proper kiss. Still, it was enough to make Taerae’s heart flutter. 

“Missed you too, silly,” Junhyeon whispered, his hands coming up to cup Taerae’s cheeks, his thumbs gently brushing over the soft skin beneath his mask. It was an intimate gesture, one that made Taerae feel grounded despite the whirlwind of emotions spinning inside him. 

Junhyeon’s eyes softened as he tilted his head slightly. “Should we go?” 

Taerae beamed, his excitement bubbling up again. “Let’s go!!” 

Not until Taerae’s laughter rang out through the quiet street, loud and joyful, as he caught sight of Junhyeon’s betrayed expression. He had playfully rejected Junhyeon’s hand, and the younger’s mock hurt was so exaggerated it made Taerae double over with glee. His laugh echoed in the cool autumn air, and for once, he didn’t care if someone might recognize him. Moments like this—being with Junhyeon—were rare, and Taerae was determined to savour every second. 

They both had their busy schedules, constantly caught up in the whirlwind of group activities, rehearsals, and performances. But now, with the crisp November air around them, it felt like time had slowed, allowing them this small pocket of freedom together. Taerae was going to make the most of it. 

When Junhyeon announced they had arrived, Taerae’s eyes went wide in disbelief as he read the blue sign. Coex Aquarium. The aquarium he had begged Junhyeon to visit with him since they first started dating. 

As they stepped out of the cab, Taerae was practically vibrating with excitement. Junhyeon must have felt it too, because he gently squeezed Taerae’s hand, giving him a pat on the head, followed by a cheeky kiss to his knuckles. The gesture was so simple, yet it sent a rush of warmth straight to Taerae’s heart. 

They bought their tickets and stepped inside, the quiet atmosphere a stark contrast to the bustling streets outside. The aquarium was nearly empty, likely because it was a weekday and still early in the morning. Taerae loved that it was just the two of them, surrounded by the soft glow of the underwater exhibits. The dim lighting of the tanks made it feel as though they were in their own world, a secret shared only between them. 

As they wandered through the exhibits, they exchanged quiet laughs and whispered conversations. But every now and then, something would amuse them enough to forget about being quiet or mysterious, and their laughter would spill out into the otherwise silent aquarium. Junhyeon stopped in front of the otter exhibit, suddenly pausing in his tracks. Taerae, curious, stopped beside him and followed his gaze to the otter, which was swimming lazily in its enclosure, completely indifferent to the two boys staring at it.

“What are you doing?” Taerae asked, his eyes darting between the otter and Junhyeon, puzzled by how intently his boyfriend was staring at the small creature. 

Junhyeon didn’t respond right away, his eyes still fixed on the otter. Then, with a tone that was both serious and amused, he called out softly, “Taerae-ya.” 

Taerae hummed in response, waiting for Junhyeon to say something more. But he didn’t. 

“Kim Taerae,” Junhyeon called again, but this time, his gaze remained on the otter. 

Confused, Taerae turned to face him, only to realise that Junhyeon wasn’t calling him —he was talking to the otter. With an incredulous huff, Taerae raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” 

Junhyeon didn’t waver, his tone far too serious for the ridiculousness of the situation. “Why do you look like my cute boyfriend?” he mused, staring down the otter as if it held the answers to life itself. 

Taerae scoffed in disbelief, laughing under his breath, but Junhyeon was completely unfazed. His attention was still locked on the otter, his eyes lighting up with newfound amusement. 

“Oh, look! It’s showing its teeth! Wow, it looks exactly like you, baby!” Junhyeon burst out, the pure delight in his voice making Taerae laugh even harder. The way his boyfriend was so serious about the comparison made it all the more hilarious. 

With a playful smack to Junhyeon’s arm, Taerae rolled his eyes. “The other day you said I’m from a duck’s family, and now I’m an otter? Just pick one!” 

Junhyeon finally tore his gaze away from the otter and looked down at Taerae, a mischievous smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “Maybe it’s because everything reminds me of you?” 

For a moment, Taerae froze, blinking in surprise at the unexpected sincerity in Junhyeon’s voice. His heart skipped a beat, and he was grateful for the mask covering his reddening cheeks. Just when he thought he’d managed to hide his flustered state, Junhyeon reached out and gently caressed Taerae’s ear, his thumb grazing the soft skin. 

“You’re blushing,” Junhyeon teased, his voice low and affectionate. “You like me that much?” 

Taerae could feel the heat in his cheeks intensify. He swatted Junhyeon’s hand away, turning on his heel to walk off in an attempt to regain his composure. “Get off me!” 

Junhyeon’s laughter followed him, full of love and adoration, as he trailed behind, refusing to let Taerae escape his teasing. 

After they had seen all the marine animals, they found a cozy spot at the aquarium café, situated right across from the souvenir shop. The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet pastries, a comforting contrast to the cool, dimly lit aquarium halls they had just left. Taerae sat back in his chair, absentmindedly eyeing a shark plushie displayed in the shop window. It was soft and adorable, but he felt a little self-conscious. He could already hear Gyuvin’s teasing if he brought it back to the dorm—especially since Yujin, the youngest of their group, had one that was almost identical. 

Taerae distracted himself with his cheesecake, taking a slow bite and humming in satisfaction as it melted in his mouth. The smooth, creamy texture was delightful. He glanced up, only to find Junhyeon already watching him, eyes warm and filled with something Taerae couldn’t quite put into words. 

“What?” Taerae asked, his tone teasing but curious. 

Junhyeon’s smile stretched across his face, a soft, content expression. “Nothing. I just had a lot of fun today.” 

Taerae’s heart softened instantly, and he smiled back, his own tone tender as he responded, “Me too. Thank you, Junhyeonie.” 

It had been a long time since Junhyeon had called him hyung. In fact, it had only lasted through the first couple of episodes of Boys Planet when they were still getting used to each other. But after that, especially after the behind-the-scenes moments, Junhyeon had dropped the formal address. Taerae had never questioned it. In fact, he preferred it this way. He liked the way baby sounded on Junhyeon’s lips far more than hyung ever did.

With a smile, Taerae scooped up a bite of his cheesecake and extended it toward Junhyeon. Junhyeon opened his mouth, taking the spoonful happily. There was something so domestic about sharing dessert like this, and Taerae savoured the moment as much as the cake. 

“I was actually planning to take you to a tulip garden today,” Junhyeon said after he swallowed, his tone casual, like he was confessing a little secret. 

Taerae perked up, surprised. “Really? Why didn’t we go?” 

Junhyeon shrugged, his lips curving into a playful grin. “It’s too open for us to be annoyingly lovey-dovey. Not enough hiding places.” 

Taerae laughed, shaking his head. “We’re annoyingly lovey-dovey?” 

Junhyeon nodded, leaning back in his chair as he took a sip of his drink. “Hmm... Minseong said that when I was leaving the dorm earlier. He thinks we’re unbearable.” 

Taerae chuckled, imagining their friend’s exaggerated reaction. “It’s okay. We can go to the garden next time. Or maybe when we’re no longer busy idols,” he mused, his voice softening as a dreamy thought crossed his mind. “Would you still go with me when I’m old, retired, and have a few white hairs?” 

Junhyeon gave him a puzzled look, eyebrows raising in confusion. “What kind of question is that?” 

Taerae blushed slightly but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know... I guess I’m just wondering if we’ll still be doing this. You know, sneaking off to aquariums and tulip gardens, sharing cakes, and being... us .” 

Junhyeon’s expression softened, his eyes searching Taerae’s face for a long moment before he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His voice was lower now, tender in a way that made Taerae’s heart skip a beat. “Taerae, I’ll still be doing all of this with you, even if you’re old and grumpy with white hair. Even if you steal my cane or complain about your knees, I’ll still take you to whatever garden you want to go to.” 

“What if you don’t like me anymore?” Taerae’s voice dipped into a soft pout, his eyes wide as he continued, “What if I’m not your cute, pretty boyfriend anymore? And what if... one of my teeth falls out, so when I smile at you, it looks ugly instead of the charming smile people say I have?” He pouted even harder, eyes slightly downcast as he played out the worst-case scenarios in his head. 

Junhyeon, however, burst into laughter—full, loud, and completely unrestrained. Taerae narrowed his eyes at him, glaring. “It’s not funny.” 

Junhyeon was wiping away the tears that formed from laughing so hard, trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry, but it is funny.” 

Taerae’s glare sharpened, only to soften when Junhyeon finally caught his breath. “I would love to watch that happen.” 

Taerae blinked, confused. “Which part?” 

“The teeth part—ouch!” Junhyeon yelped, rubbing the spot on his arm where Taerae had slapped him. 

“I’m being serious!” Taerae’s pout deepened, his gaze pleading for sincerity from his boyfriend. 

Junhyeon’s teasing smile softened, his tone growing serious as he scooted his chair closer. He gently hooked his arm through Taerae’s, pulling him closer. “Alright, alright. I’m just kidding, okay? I’ll be by your side as long as you want me there. I don’t care how much time passes. If you still want me, I’ll be there. Always.” 

Taerae’s pout wavered, but he wasn’t fully convinced yet. His voice was quieter now, more vulnerable. “Do you... not want me to be by your side too?” 

Junhyeon’s expression softened even more as he reached up to cup Taerae’s cheek, his thumb brushing the skin tenderly. “Of course I do, baby. But it’s got to be equal, you know? Relationships go both ways. If one person is giving and the other isn’t willing to receive or give back, then what’s the point?” He paused, his eyes searching Taerae’s. “So, don’t be afraid to tell me if I ever make a mistake or hurt your feelings, alright? I’ll listen. I promise.” 

Taerae’s pout faltered completely, his heart full as he leaned into Junhyeon’s touch. He nuzzled closer, the warmth between them feeling more comforting than the hot chocolate they had been sipping earlier.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice a little quieter now, filled with the weight of everything unsaid. 

Junhyeon leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Love you too.” 

Taerae grinned and chased after another kiss, their lips barely brushing again before reality snapped back into place. Realizing they were still in public, Taerae pushed Junhyeon away just a bit, though not enough to actually create any distance. He still wanted to be close, as close as possible, especially with the knowledge that their busy schedules would soon pull them apart again. 

Junhyeon gave him a questioning look as Taerae settled back into his seat, trying to play it cool. “Can you say ‘Taerae, Taerae, Kim Taerae’ again before we leave?” 

Junhyeon’s eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Huh? Why?” 

Taerae shrugged, attempting to mask the giddy smile threatening to break across his face by taking a long sip from his hot chocolate. “I don’t know. I just love it when I see how happy you are when fans ask you about me... or when you mention me in interviews.” He fiddled with the cup, his voice softening. “And you call me that—‘Taerae, Taerae, Kim Taerae.’ It makes me happy to see how excited you are to talk about me in front of cameras.” 

Junhyeon’s expression melted, his eyes full of nothing but adoration. “Well, of course I’m excited. It’s not every day I get to talk about you without someone bringing it up first. I wish I could mention you even more.” His voice was gentle, and the way he looked at Taerae made Taerae’s heart feel like it was wrapped in a blanket of warmth. 

Taerae, overwhelmed by the sincerity in Junhyeon’s gaze, could barely contain his smile. The sweetness of the moment—and Junhyeon—was almost too much. He swore the hot chocolate suddenly tasted even sweeter. 

Junhyeon leaned forward, his voice soft but playful as he spoke again. “Taerae, Taerae, Kim Taerae.” 

Taerae couldn’t help it—he burst into laughter, his giggles bubbling up and filling the quiet café. His heart swelled with happiness, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of them, basking in the joy of being together. 

Taerae sat in the waiting area, his mind drifting as he waited for Junhyeon, who had dashed off to the restroom. When Junhyeon returned, a playful glint sparkled in his eyes, and in his hand was a brown paper bag. 

“What is that? For the members?” Taerae questioned, curiosity piquing as he leaned forward to peek inside, only for Junhyeon to block his view. 

“Later you will know,” Junhyeon teased, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Jeez,” Taerae huffed, crossing his arms playfully, wondering if it’s for him. 

When their cab finally dropped Taerae off at his dorm, he turned to Junhyeon for one last kiss, but the younger boy pulled back just as he reached for the door handle. 

“What?” Taerae asked, puzzled. 

“Here.” Junhyeon handed him the paper bag, his smile warm and inviting. “Thank you again. I love you.” 

Taerae’s heart skipped a beat, but confusion clouded his mind, and he didn’t get the chance to respond before the driver’s impatient gaze urged him to exit. With a wave and a flurry of emotions, he stepped out and watched the cab disappear into the night. 

Once the car was out of sight, Taerae glanced inside the bag. His heart soared at the sight of the adorable shark plushie he had been eyeing, a knowing smile spreading across his face. So Junhyeon noticed, huh? Just as he was about to close the bag, he spotted a small note tucked beneath the plushie. 

His breath caught in his throat as he unfolded it, feeling as though the entire universe conspired to fill him with love. 

The note read;

You look like a shark too if I think about it. Be mine forever so I can relate you to everything I see. 

A wave of warmth washed over him, flooding his chest with a mix of affection and joy. It felt like a promise, a shared secret between them that made the world around him fade away. 

But as the warmth begins to settle, reality hit hard.

Taerae wakes up to the dark pitch of his room, the clock on his phone glaring back at him: 3:45 AM. He sits up, heart racing, feeling like he has just been pulled from a dream—or more like a memory. He blinks against the shadows, the clarity of the moment slowly slipping through his fingers. 

He had fallen asleep while reminiscing about their date from last year, and now it felt like the weight of the world pressed down on his chest. It’s already October, which means that aquarium date will marked its one year next month. Funny how life has been fooling him. Swallowing hard, he pulls the blanket over his head, desperate to shield himself from the overwhelming swell of emotions. 

This isn’t just a dream; it’s a fragment of a memory, a beautiful moment replaying itself in his mind, now tinged with the bittersweet sting of reality. Junhyeon’s laughter, the warmth of his hand, and that note – which taerae still kept in his nightstand, reminding Taerae of the love they shared, even when they are apart. 

But in this quiet darkness, the truth loom heavy: those moments were precious yet fleeting, and he is alone now, lost in the echoes of what once was. The memories swirl around him like a tempest, and despite the comfort they bring, he feels an ache in his heart. 

Tears prickles at the corners of his eyes, and he blinks them away, wishing sleep would come again—but this time, without the memories that tethered him to the past. 

ִ ࣪𖤐ִ ࣪

The next day passes in a blur, the weight of everything suffocating Taerae as he stays curled up in his room, barely moving. The memory of his dream from last night haunts him, sinking into his bones. He can’t shake it, no matter how hard he tries. It's like a lingering ache in his chest that won't leave. His limbs feel too heavy to even make it to the shower, his head throbbing with a dull, dizzying pain. 

When Hanbin steps into the room, his voice soft with concern, Taerae doesn’t even bother to open his eyes. 

"Have you eaten anything?" Hanbin asks, his tone laced with quiet worry. 

Taerae shakes his head, barely lifting his chin off the pillow. His voice comes out strained, barely a whisper. "I don’t feel well." 

Hanbin hesitates for a second, then asks, “Would you like some porridge? It might help…” 

There’s a long pause before Taerae answers, his throat thick with exhaustion. "It’s... okay. I think I just need to sleep." 

He listens as Hanbin leaves, the sound of the door closing too loud in the silence. Taerae drifts in and out of sleep, though it’s more like sinking into a fog than actual rest. Even in his half-asleep state, he feels the presence of his members as they poke their heads in, one by one, checking on him, trying to make sure he’s not too sick. They’re all careful not to bother him too much—they know how close they are to flying to Bangkok for their tour. 

Taerae knows, too, but right now, it feels distant and insignificant. All he wants is to disappear under his blanket, to drown in the quiet and do nothing. Maybe he’s being dramatic, but right now, he just doesn’t care. The ache in his heart is too real, too persistent. 

By the time the clock hits 10 p.m., the room has grown darker, shadows pooling around him. He barely notices when Gyuvin’s head pops through the door, the younger’s voice hesitant, testing the waters. 

“Hyung... we’re going to karaoke. You wanna come?” 

“No,” Taerae replies immediately, faster than he means to, the sharpness of it surprising them both.

Gyuvin blinks, a little taken aback. “You sure? You love karaoke, hyung.” 

Taerae bites his bottom lip, the familiar guilt creeping in. He knows they’re just trying to cheer him up, to pull him out of whatever hole he’s sinking into. But he can’t. Not right now. He shakes his head, his voice quieter this time. “It’s okay, Gyuvinnie... Have fun without me, okay? Tell the others to have fun too.” 

Gyuvin hesitates, his hand still on the door, as if debating whether to push further. But eventually, he nods, leaving Taerae with a soft, "Take care of yourself, hyung.”

Taerae doesn’t respond. He just listens as the sounds of the dorm shift—soft voices in the hall, muted footsteps, the creak of the front door closing behind the group as they leave. And then... silence. Deafening, suffocating silence. 

It’s eerie, how quiet the place feels now. Without the usual chatter of his members or the low hum of their laughter, the apartment feels almost foreign. The stillness presses against Taerae’s chest, making it harder to breathe, leaving his thoughts painfully loud and unavoidable. 

Maybe he should’ve gone with them. Maybe the noise would’ve been enough to drown out the storm inside his head. Maybe the distraction of their voices, their presence, would’ve made it all easier to bear. But now, alone in this silence, Taerae feels like he’s unravelling. 

His gaze drifts to his phone, and he contemplates texting them, telling them he’s changed his mind. But instead, he sighs, pulling his blanket tighter around himself like it could shield him from the mess inside his mind. 

He grabs his earbuds instead, shoving them in his ears and cranking the volume up to maximum, choosing to blur out his thoughts with sad dramas. Maybe if the story on screen is tragic enough, it’ll distract him from his own hurt. Maybe the music will drown out the ache for a while. 

But even as the scenes play out in front of him, Taerae knows it’s only a temporary fix. The real noise, the turmoil inside his chest, will be waiting when the episode ends. 

He's on the fourth episode of Hi Bye Mama when the door clicks open. Taerae glances at the clock, confused, pulling out one earbud. “Wow, you guys back already? It’s only been two hours since—” 

“Taerae.” 

The sound of his name stops him cold. 

It’s like a jolt of electricity, freezing him in place. His phone slips from his hand and falls onto his bed, but Taerae doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. He can’t. His whole body locks up, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. The voice—that voice—hits him like a punch to the chest, knocking all the air out of him. 

He doesn’t dare to look up. He can’t. He feels like he’s suffocating under the weight of that voice, under the flood of memories that comes crashing down on him. His breaths are shallow, rapid, like the room is closing in, the walls squeezing tighter, tighter . 

“Taerae.” 

The voice says his name again, softer this time, and something inside him cracks. His tears start falling before he can even blink them away, hot and heavy, sliding down his cheeks in streams. He forces himself to sit up, his body trembling, but he still can’t bring himself to look at Junhyeon. He just stares at his blanket, his vision blurring as the tears keep falling. He feels like he’s falling apart, piece by piece, right there in front of him. 

Junhyeon’s voice is shaky. “T-Taerae-ya…” 

The sound of Junhyeon stuttering his name, the hesitation in his voice, sends a fresh wave of pain through Taerae’s chest. He bites down hard on his lip, trying to stop the sobs threatening to break free. “How… how did you get in here?” His voice comes out broken, barely a whisper, like he’s struggling just to push the words out. 

Junhyeon stumbles over his explanation. “The others... They asked me to come because you haven’t been feeling well. They said you haven’t been eating and thought I should check on you. They’re still outside though—” 

Taerae lets out a bitter, breathless laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. His voice trembles as he speaks. “Of course they did. They could’ve called Jeonghyeon or Park Hanbin... but of course, they called you.” 

Junhyeon’s eyes fill with hurt, but Taerae doesn’t see it. He’s too wrapped up in his own pain, too lost in the storm of emotions swirling inside him. Junhyeon’s voice wavers, almost pleading. “Do you want me to go? I… I tried texting you, but it looks like you blocked me. I didn’t know what else to do. I just—” 

“Junhyeon-ah.” 

Junhyeon freezes. Taerae’s voice is soft, but it stops him cold. Hearing his name fall from Taerae’s lips after so long… it feels like a lifeline, like something he’s been waiting for, aching for. His heart clenches in his chest, a painful, desperate kind of hope. 

Taerae swallows hard, feeling the words stick in his throat, but he forces them out. “I think… I think there’s something really wrong with me.” 

He lifts his head, and for the first time, he meets Junhyeon’s eyes. His face is crumpled, a picture of devastation. His lips tremble as he speaks, each word a struggle, each word tearing at him. 

“I think I’m broken,” he whispers, his voice cracking, his chest heaving as he fights to get the words out. “I don’t know if my smiles are genuine anymore. I don’t know if it’s all just... fanservice at this point. Even with the people around me, I feel like I’m faking it.” 

His breath hitches, and the sobs he’s been holding back finally break free, his body shaking with the force of them. “I think I’m sick, Junhyeon. I don’t even like singing anymore. I messed up rehearsals over and over again, and I… I didn’t want to go to karaoke today. Me , of all people. I just… I just want to stay in this room forever and never come out. I can’t do it anymore. I think I have lost it.” 

The dam has broken. He can’t stop now, the words tumbling out, raw and unfiltered, as if every piece of pain he’s been carrying has finally found its voice. His hands are shaking, his breaths uneven, sobs ripping through his chest. 

“I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know why I can’t feel anything… anything real. I just feel… empty.” 

Taerae looks up at Junhyeon, tears blurring his vision, but he can still see the pain in Junhyeon’s eyes, the way his face crumples as if he’s the one falling apart now. Junhyeon doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face says it all—he’s hurting too, just as much as Taerae, if not more. 

Junhyeon takes a shaky step forward, his hand reaching out, but he hesitates, as if he’s waiting for permission, waiting for Taerae to push him away. 

But Taerae doesn’t push him away. He doesn’t move. He just sits there, staring at Junhyeon through the tears, waiting. 

And then Junhyeon takes another step. And another. 

Junhyeon settles himself on the far edge of the bed, maintaining just enough distance to feel the weight of the space between them, but not too far to feel completely apart. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, as if the air itself is holding its breath. They share the room, the bed, but they might as well be miles apart. 

“I was so worried, Taerae,” Junhyeon begins, his voice low and trembling, as if each word is being dragged from him. “I’ve heard how you've been doing… ever since we… you know.” His eyes flicker to Taerae, searching for something—maybe permission to keep talking, maybe forgiveness—but Taerae doesn’t give him anything. “Trust me, I tried to reach out. So many times. But I… I was so stubborn. I kept telling myself that you wouldn’t want to hear from me again.” 

Taerae’s eyes drop to his lap, his fingers twisting nervously in the blanket. 

Junhyeon notices, his voice softening as if he’s afraid to push too far. “I regretted it. Blocking you after… after we went out that night. It was my fault. I said things I shouldn’t have said. I blamed you for not making time for us, and I—” He pauses, his voice cracking as his own tears start to build. “I didn’t mean it, Taerae. I was angry, and I didn’t think about what I was saying. I never should’ve said that.” 

Taerae bites his lip hard, forcing down the wave of emotion threatening to break free. He doesn’t want to relive that night. He doesn’t want to think about the shouting, the tears, the way the air felt heavy with anger and regret. That night had ended with him stumbling into the dorm, his face streaked with tears, his heart shattered. Even the members, who had been watching a movie together, looked stunned, not knowing what to say or how to comfort him. 

“And…” Junhyeon’s voice wavers, his eyes filled with guilt. “About your birthday. I’m… sorry I missed it. That wasn’t an accident. I was being petty. I was upset. It’s not an excuse, but I—I was jealous, I was stupid. I kept hearing your name everywhere, even from my own fans, and I—” He breaks off, swallowing harshly as tears start slipping down his face. His voice shakes as he continues, barely able to speak through the sobs. “It’s not your fault, Taerae. None of it was your fault. But I… I blamed you anyway.” 

Junhyeon is openly crying now, the words tumbling out between sobs, and Taerae feels his chest tighten painfully at the sight. He’s so used to seeing Junhyeon composed, confident, but now… now Junhyeon is just as broken as he is, and it’s almost too much to bear. Taerae forces himself to keep his eyes down, unable to handle the intensity of Junhyeon’s gaze. 

“And during the concert,” Junhyeon continues, his voice barely a whisper. “I… I tried to talk to you. I told Gunwook I didn’t want to run into you, but that wasn’t true. I wanted to see you. So badly. And when we found you in the changing room, I—” He chokes on the words, his breath hitching. “I was glad when Gunwook left us alone, but… I didn’t know what to say. It was like… it was like I forgot how to talk to you.” 

Junhyeon lets out a hollow, bitter laugh, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “It felt like we were… strangers.” 

The word hangs in the air between them, heavy and painful. They both flinch at it, the reality of that statement cutting deeper than either of them wants to admit. Strangers. After everything they had shared, after everything they had been to each other, how did they get to this point? 

“And then there was the live,” Junhyeon continues, his voice softening again. “The fans kept asking me about us. If we had taken pictures together. If we were okay. And I—I ignored them because I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to make it obvious. I didn’t want to admit how bad things were between us.” 

He lets out a shaky breath, his hands trembling in his lap. “And then you had to answer them. On live. I can’t imagine how hard that was for you.” 

Taerae closes his eyes, remembering how his heart had clenched when the question came up during the live stream. He hadn’t lied, not really. Junhyeon had been avoiding him. But saying it out loud, to their fans, in front of thousands of people… it had been a punch to the gut, a painful reminder of how far apart they had grown. 

Junhyeon’s voice breaks, filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Taerae. I’m sorry for all of it. I don’t—” 

“What do you want, Junhyeon?” Taerae’s voice cuts through the air, soft but sharp. He doesn’t have the energy for anger, not anymore. He’s too tired, too drained. His heart aches, and all he wants is for the pain to stop. He can’t handle another fight, another round of hurtful words. 

Junhyeon blinks, his breath catching at the question. He’s caught off guard by the calmness in Taerae’s voice. No screaming, no accusations. Just exhaustion. Taerae looks up at him, his eyes red and swollen, his face wet with tears, and Junhyeon feels his heart break all over again. 

“I just… I just want to apologize,” Junhyeon whispers, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry, Taerae. For everything. For hurting you. For… for not being there when you needed me.” 

Taerae’s lips quiver as his emotions overwhelm him, the weight of his guilt pressing down hard on his chest. His voice is shaky, barely above a whisper as tears begin to spill once again. “Why?” His eyes, glassy with unshed tears, glance briefly at Junhyeon, before he looks away, shame consuming him. “Why are you apologizing when I… I should be the one apologizing. I’ve been nothing but childish through all of this. If I had just… matured, just a little bit… we could’ve talked. We could’ve resolved this without all the mess and hurt, but I keep focusing on myself without asking you first.” 

Taerae’s breath catches as he tries to keep himself composed, but the dam inside him bursts. His sobs come out in gasping breaths, and he grips the blanket tightly, his knuckles turning white. “You’ve always been the one taking care of me,” he continues, voice barely audible through his sobs. “Even now, when we’re not together anymore. You’ve always been the one to make sure I’m okay, to make sure I’m not uncomfortable. And when you said… when you told me that I hurt your feelings, that I kept making you adjust to my schedule and never yours…” 

His voice falters, his body trembling as he forces out the next words. “I realised… I realised how selfish I was. I was so wrapped up in myself, in my own world, that I never even thought about how hard it must have been for you too. And it’s not like you weren’t busy, but I made you feel like your time wasn’t as important as mine.” 

Taerae’s face crumples, the guilt crushing him, suffocating him. “I—I’m a terrible person. Why… why did you even date someone like me?” 

Before Taerae can finish the thought, his body shakes violently as sobs rip through him. He can’t breathe, the tears blurring his vision until all he can see are the outlines of the room, of Junhyeon sitting there, looking at him with eyes filled with something that cuts deeper than the guilt itself. 

Without saying a word, Junhyeon moves toward Taerae, pulling him into his arms with a force that’s both desperate and gentle. His embrace is tight, as if he's trying to hold Taerae together when everything inside him is falling apart. Their sobs echo in the silence, their bodies shaking in each other’s arms. Taerae clings to Junhyeon like a lifeline, his fingers digging into Junhyeon’s back as though letting go would mean drowning in his own despair. 

“I’m sorry, Junhyeon,” Taerae gasps, the words spilling from his lips, broken and raw. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to… to hurt you like this.” 

Junhyeon tightens his grip, his own tears falling silently as he strokes Taerae’s back, trying to soothe him even though his own heart is breaking. “No, no, Taerae, it’s not just you. I’m sorry too. I should’ve talked to you sooner. I should’ve been better.” 

Their sobs come harder, shaking them to their core, their breaths ragged and painful. The room feels impossibly small, the weight of their emotions so thick it’s almost suffocating. It’s as if all the hurt they’ve been carrying for so long has come crashing down on them in this single moment, leaving them both raw and vulnerable. 

But even in the midst of their pain, there’s a strange comfort in being close to each other again. In the warmth of Junhyeon’s arms, Taerae feels like, for the first time in months, he can breathe again. Junhyeon’s familiar scent, the way his chest rises and falls with each shaky breath, grounds him. It’s overwhelming, but it’s also the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely. 

“I’m sorry,” Taerae repeats, his voice barely a whisper now, his face pressed into Junhyeon’s shoulder. His tears have soaked through Junhyeon’s shirt, but neither of them seems to care. “I’m sorry for everything. I don’t know why… I don’t know how to fix this. I just… I miss you so much.” 

Junhyeon’s hand rests on the back of Taerae’s head, fingers gently threading through his hair. “I miss you too, Taerae,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from crying. “I’ve missed you every day.” 

They stay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, their tears slowly subsiding into quiet sniffles. Time feels suspended, the weight of their shared sorrow hanging in the air. It’s as if, in this moment, all that matters is that they’re together again, even if just for a brief moment. Even if nothing is fixed yet, even if there’s still so much left unsaid, they have this—the warmth of each other’s presence, the comfort of knowing that they’re not alone in their pain. 

Their breathing finally evens out, though the tremors linger like echoes of the storm that had passed through them. Each breath is shaky at first, but as they sit together, wrapped in each other's presence, the weight on their chests slowly lifts, little by little, like a dawn breaking after a long night. 

Junhyeon is the first to pull back, though only slightly, just enough to get a good look at Taerae’s face. His fingers, still trembling with the aftershock of their emotions, gently brush against Taerae’s damp cheeks, wiping away the tears that stubbornly clung to his skin. Taerae’s eyes are swollen, red-rimmed and puffy, his cheeks raw from the endless tears. He looks fragile—so delicate that Junhyeon feels like the slightest touch might shatter him. But even in the midst of it all, there’s a tenderness in the way Junhyeon cradles Taerae’s face, his thumb lingering just below his cheekbone, gently tracing the path where the tears had fallen. 

“Hi,” Junhyeon says, voice hoarse, but laced with warmth that breaks through the fragility of the moment. 

Taerae blinks up at him, a weak smile attempting to curl at the edges of his lips despite the lingering sadness. “Hi,” he replies, his voice a little thicker, a sniffle escaping him. 

For a moment, they simply breathe together, the air between them heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, breaking the silence with a voice as soft as a whisper but filled with conviction, Junhyeon speaks again, “Don’t… don’t say things like that about yourself. Not in front of me.” His gaze holds Taerae’s with unwavering sincerity. “You are wonderful, Taerae. You know that, right? You’re just… lost right now. But that doesn’t mean you’re broken. And it definitely doesn’t mean I ever regret anything we had. Never, not even for a second.” 

His words hit Taerae like a wave—gentle, but overwhelming. Another tear slips down Taerae’s cheek, and Junhyeon, ever patient, reaches up to wipe it away again, his thumb tender as it brushes the tear from his skin. “Don’t cry,” Junhyeon whispers, voice breaking just a little. “It doesn’t suit you.” 

But that only makes Taerae cry harder. He tries, desperately, to blink the tears away, but the more he tries, the more they fall. Junhyeon doesn’t seem to mind though, gently wiping away each tear as it falls, his touch so tender, so careful, as if he's trying to hold together all of the broken pieces of Taerae with just his fingertips. 

“Junhyeonie,” Taerae sobs, voice cracking under the weight of his fears. “I’m scared.” 

Junhyeon’s brow furrows, concern etching deeper into his face. “Scared of what?” he asks softly, his fingers threading through Taerae’s hair, grounding him. 

“I’m afraid… what if I never get out of this?” Taerae’s voice wavers as the words spill out of him, thick and heavy. “What if I can’t get out of this slump? What if I get worse? The members are going to get sick of covering for me. The fans will notice, and the managers… they’ve already started asking questions. The others keep trying to protect me, but for how long? How long before everyone just gives up on me?” 

Taerae's sobs grow louder, and his hands fist in the blanket beneath him, his body trembling again as the weight of everything he’s been carrying crushes him from the inside out. “I can’t… I can’t keep leaning on you like this. It’s not fair to you. I don’t want to burden you again.” 

Junhyeon’s heart breaks all over again at Taerae’s words. His hand gently threads through Taerae’s hair, the strands slipping through his fingers like silk. “Taerae,” he murmurs, voice soft and full of an unwavering resolve, “you can ask me for help. Always. I told you before, we’re in this together. But we have to talk. We have to be honest with each other, no more running away, no more silence.” 

Junhyeon’s hand moves to cup Taerae’s cheek again, his thumb brushing away the fresh tears. His voice is steady, but gentle, like he’s afraid the wrong words will shatter the fragile peace they’ve found. “It’s not going to be easy,” Junhyeon admits, his own voice trembling just slightly. “But we can work through it. Together.” 

Taerae stares at him, his tear-filled eyes searching Junhyeon’s face for any sign of doubt, but he finds none. Only the sincerity in Junhyeon’s gaze, the warmth that’s always been there, even when things got hard. 

“Do you want to?” Junhyeon’s voice is soft, the question hanging in the air between them like a lifeline. “Do you want to try again? With me?”

Taerae’s breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he feels like he can’t speak. His voice comes out as a whisper, so quiet that it’s almost swallowed by the silence between them. “With you?” 

Junhyeon nods, his thumb still gently stroking Taerae’s cheek, his touch grounding him, keeping him anchored in this moment. “With me. Together,” he whispers, as if the words themselves might break the fragile bubble they’ve created between them. 

Taerae’s heart stirs, an ache forming deep inside his chest. But this time, it’s not from pain. It’s from hope. A quiet, tentative hope that maybe—just maybe—they can find their way back to each other. That maybe things aren’t as broken as he thought. Or at least, not anymore. Not at the time.

Without thinking, Taerae pulls Junhyeon closer again, wrapping his arms around him like he’s afraid that if he lets go, this moment will slip through his fingers. His face buries itself in Junhyeon’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent that always made him feel safe. He closes his eyes, his heart still heavy, but there’s something lighter now, something warm blooming deep within him. 

Junhyeon holds him just as tightly, his hands threading through Taerae’s hair again, grounding him, comforting him. And for the first time in what feels like forever, Taerae lets himself relax. He lets himself breathe in the moment, the warmth of Junhyeon’s body against his, the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

He’s still scared. He’s still uncertain. But right now, in this moment, none of that matters. 

Because Junhyeon is here. And they’re together. 

And maybe… just maybe… that’s enough. 

An hour later, Junhyeon softly mentions that he should probably leave before the other ZB1 members return. Taerae, without thinking, asks him to stay. And, to his relief, Junhyeon agrees, smiling gently as if there’s no place he’d rather be. 

Taerae hurriedly rummages through the bathroom cabinet and finds an extra toothbrush for Junhyeon, feeling an odd sense of comfort in doing something so domestic with him again. As they stand side by side in the bathroom, hips brushing against each other, the familiarity of it settles over Taerae like a warm blanket. 

But then Taerae catches his reflection in the mirror. His nose is red and swollen, his eyes puffy from crying, and his greasy, tangled hair sticks out in every direction like a bird’s nest. He’s still wearing the same pajamas from yesterday, and an overwhelming wave of embarrassment crashes over him. His stomach drops. Oh god, how bad does he smell? He’s been lying in bed all day, and he even had the nerve to cuddle with Junhyeon. 

The horror must be clear on his face, because Junhyeon laughs—soft and airy, but filled with sincerity. “You didn’t smell bad, if you’re wondering,” he says, his voice muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth. 

“Oh my god, that’s even worse!” Taerae groans, covering his face with his hands. “Why would you even say that?!” 

Junhyeon just laughs harder, a warm, melodious sound that fills the room. “What?” He comes closer, still brushing his teeth, and playfully ruffles Taerae’s hair. “I wish you still had your pink hair. Now it looks more like a bird’s nest than cotton candy.” 

“Just shut up,” Taerae mutters, but he’s fighting back a smile, his embarrassment fading as Junhyeon’s laughter bubbles over. 

They both end up laughing softly, the kind of laughter that soothes rather than stings. For a moment, it feels like things are normal again, like they haven’t spent so much time apart. 

Later, they settle into bed, lying close to each other. Junhyeon still seems unsure, as if he’s treading lightly on what’s okay and what’s not, so Taerae scoots a little closer, bridging the distance. He breathes in Junhyeon’s scent—soft and soothing, like cotton with a hint of lavender. It’s always been comforting, that scent, something that feels like home even when they aren’t touching. Just having Junhyeon near calms him in ways he can’t explain.

So when Junhyeon finally wraps his arm around Taerae’s waist, Taerae sighs softly, letting the warmth of the moment wrap around them both like a cocoon. 

They bathe in the silence for a while, simply breathing in each other’s presence. Then, the thought that had haunted Taerae since the night before resurfaces. He hesitates for a moment before speaking. “I had a dream last night.” 

Junhyeon shifts slightly beside him, his voice warm when he asks, “What was it about?” 

“It wasn’t really a dream… more like a memory,” Taerae admits quietly, his voice soft in the stillness of the room. “Remember when we went to the aquarium last year? It was about that.” 

Junhyeon chuckles, his voice filled with a soft kind of nostalgia. “Maybe it’s a good sign?” 

“Maybe,” Taerae says, his voice distant, thoughtful. Because if it wasn’t a good sign, Junhyeon wouldn’t be here with him now. They’d still be apart, miles and miles away from each other in every sense of the word. 

“Speaking of the aquarium,” Junhyeon muses after a beat of silence, “where’s the plushie we got that day? You didn’t throw it away, did you?” 

Taerae gasps like he’s been personally insulted. “Are you insane? Why would I ever throw my baby away?” 

Junhyeon laughs again, that same warm, comforting sound that makes Taerae feel like everything is going to be okay. “I’m just asking,” Junhyeon says, playfully ruffling Taerae’s hair again. “Where is it?” 

Taerae pouts slightly, his voice quieter now. “It’s… somewhere in my closet. I didn’t want to keep it with me if you weren’t with me.” 

Junhyeon’s hand stills in Taerae’s hair, and for a moment, the room is filled with a heavy, tender silence. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, Junhyeon says, “I’m here now, baby. I’m here.” 

Taerae’s throat tightens at the words, emotion welling up inside him again. He presses his face into Junhyeon’s neck, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over once more. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick. “I missed you.” 

Junhyeon’s arm tightens around him, pulling him closer. “I missed you more,” he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with so much affection that it makes Taerae’s heart ache. 

For a long while, they just lie there, holding each other, breathing in the moment. It’s fragile and fleeting, but it’s theirs. And in that moment, nothing else matters. 

It feels natural, like they’ve never been apart. The rise and fall of Junhyeon’s steady breathing lulls Taerae closer to sleep, the warmth of his body providing a comfort Taerae didn’t realise how much he missed. 

“You haven’t eaten anything , right?” 

“Let’s just have breakfast together tomorrow,” Taerae mumbles sleepily, his words muffled against Junhyeon’s shirt. 

Junhyeon presses a soft kiss to the top of Taerae’s head, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you want me to.” 

They drift off like that, cocooned in each other’s warmth, their breaths syncing as they slip into the softness of sleep. Taerae shifts slightly in his sleep, instinctively curling closer to Junhyeon’s body, while Junhyeon’s arm tightens protectively around him, even in his dreams. 

--- 

Hours later, the sound of the front door opening breaks the quiet of the night. The ZB1 members enter the dorm softly, their footsteps deliberately quiet as they return from their late-night activities. They glance at each other, thinking about Taerae’s condition, and exchange a few whispered words about checking on him before heading off to bed. 

Hanbin takes the lead, tiptoeing toward Taerae’s (and technically his room but he doesn’t sleep in there anymore) with the others trailing behind. When they reach the door, he gently pushes it open, half-expecting to see Taerae still awake. 

But what they find instead stops them in their tracks. 

In the faint glow of the nightlight, they see Taerae and Junhyeon, tangled together on the bed. Taerae is curled up against Junhyeon, his face buried in the crook of Junhyeon’s neck, while Junhyeon’s arm is wrapped tightly around Taerae’s waist, his other hand resting on Taerae’s hair as if protecting him even in sleep.

The soft rise and fall of their chests is the only sound in the room, their breathing perfectly in sync, and their bodies intertwined in a way that shows just how much they belong together. 

The sight is so tender, so unexpected, that the members are momentarily stunned into silence. 

Ricky nudges Gunwook, a soft grin on his face. “Did you plan this out?” 

Gunwook just nods, a relieved smile spreading across his features. “Well, someone had to do it. Why do you think we suddenly have a karaoke session tonight?” he whispers back. “This is also my chance to play with my best friend more!”

Zhanghao, standing behind them, peeks in and can’t help but chuckle softly under his breath. “They are so cute.” 

“Do you think they’re together again?” Gyuvin whispers, though there’s no real intent behind his question. He knows the answer already. None of them want to break the spell of the moment. 

“Probably, they definitely talked a lot,” Hanbin whispers back with a grin. “Let’s go to sleep now, it’s past Yujin’s curfew.” 

“Alright, old man.” Yujin huffs. 

Carefully, one by one, they back out of the room, quietly closing the door behind them. But the smiles on their faces don’t fade as they retreat down the hallway, feeling more at ease knowing that maybe, just maybe, their friend would be okay now. 

Inside the room, the night settles in again. Taerae shifts slightly, his hand clutching Junhyeon’s shirt in his sleep, while Junhyeon pulls him closer, neither of them disturbed by the brief intrusion. The peace between them remains, soft and delicate, and as they sleep, there’s a sense of hope in the air—like this is the first step toward healing, toward finding each other again. 

And for the first time in what feels like forever, Taerae sleeps without a weight on his chest.