Chapter Text
Sometimes he isn't the most updated, but he's definitely not blind. It is impossible not to see those stories and compilations of moments; his name and Seungcheol’s, his name and Joshua’s, the mix with Mingyu’s or Dokyeom’s, with Wonwoo’s and Woozi’s. The list is endless because there is apparently material for each of those theories of pieces of names stitched together.
Jeonghan knows that part of it is his fault: his affectionate nature and his propensity to touch and touch. When his fingers reach an arm, a hand, and even —on somewhat more scandalous occasions— a pair of pants, his body relaxes and his voice stops stumbling terribly over his own breath.
The price of being able to continue with his work is the millions of eyes examining each of his interactions.
Sometimes he feels guilty, because while other “couples” arise from mutual flirtation or a particularly close friendship, his are the result of his dependence, of the compassion and patience of his members. It's no secret that some of them hate physical contact, and yet there are very few occasions where they seriously push him away. On the contrary, over time the arms casually encircling his waist increase, the hands massaging his shoulders, a head on his lap. And each time Jeonghan breathes with a full chest, brimming with security and warmth.
He wants to be like this forever.
But that's just naive.
Behind the scenes Jeonghan watches the world change; Woozi and Hoshi increase their activities outside the team, Jun gets lost in China with his new drama, Joshua and Vernon work on collaborations, Seungcheol and Boo take breaks and return occasionally. Each of the members find themselves busier to the point where they have to resort to a monthly meeting to be together outside of interviews and promotions.
Meanwhile he finds himself alone and with barely anything to do.
Jeonghan sometimes thinks of himself as an immovable object. Still, not out of strength, but out of passivity, perhaps out of terror and insecurity.
The same mukbangs, the same games. He loves his Legos and blabbering about his anecdotes, but sometimes his stomach twists when unlike the others the most exciting thing in his week is to have been gifted a new collectible or successfully learned another phrase in Japanese that in practice he will be too afraid to say out loud.
And then there's the last straw.
It is a rare night where most of them are together in the same space when Hoshi stumbles over. His cheeks are red, his eyes watery and his breath almost smells of ethyl alcohol. Dokyeom cackles in the distance followed by a “now it’s your problem Hyung.” Jeonghan vaguely remembers the younger’s habits; those lips that try to cover every inch of their faces when he is in this state and prepares to dodge it or joke in response, but Hoshi just hangs on his neck with a pout.
“Hyuuuung”
Jeonghan makes a sound of affirmation, his hand already on the other’s head; his fingers dipping into her blond locks.
“I’m in love.”
His hand stops.
Jeonghan blinks as he stares at the ceiling of his room, Hoshi's voice repeating over and over in his head: ‘I'm in love’.
In retrospect, Jeonghan knows why the youngest came to him with that confession. His role in the group isn't a secret after all: ‘If any of the boys need to talk, I know I can count on Jeonghan to listen and support them’, he can almost hear Seungcheol's voice repeating those words over and over.
The problem is that this time the group's therapist is at a loss for words.
While Hoshi launches into a tirade about how complicated it is to confess or plan outings to get to know each other better as public figures —Jeonghan mentally hits his head over and over again because among the thousands of posts he's come across about the members' partners, Lee Soohyuk is a name he's seen more than once— he finds himself frozen trying to think of something to say.
In the end, and mindful of the other's expectation, he decides to make a joke about how the fans will be disappointed when Soohyuk says yes because they seem to love the couple he makes with Jihoon so much. It's a meaningless comment, but it tries to redirect the conversation to a topic that he masters at least partially. Hoshi, however, laughs apparently satisfied and a little more confident before giving him a small punch —barely a brush, as is his habit since the surgery— against his arm.
‘As if you hadn't done it more times, Hyung’.
Jeonghan can't stop thinking; that feeling that comes to him when he occasionally comes across comments from fans that encourage them to have a family of their own or, at least, dates, seems to settle stronger than ever in his stomach and chest. ‘They are human beings, we can't expect them to be single forever’.
‘As if you hadn't done it more times, Hyung’, repeats the echo of his dongsaeng.
His hands find his eyes and press, his feet repeatedly kicking at his sheets. He doesn't make a sound.
"Is everything okay?"
Seungkwan has a raised eyebrow and that look that says he knows exactly what's going on in his head. Jeonghan knows that half the time that's true, he also knows that this time it's not.
There are no words in his mouth and yet he nods, the other snorts before coming closer and lying down beside him. His arms surround him and shield him from the world and Jeonghan tries to take refuge in the momentary darkness to forget about everything, everyone and himself.
But the warmth of the hug also transports him to other times, to hasty decisions, to vain attempts to try to do the same as the others.
‘They're human, it's normal’.
He can vaguely recall Jihoon's face. His jaw slightly tense, his gaze curious but also somewhat uncomfortable as they went over the lines of Purple Rose until they achieved the balance between confession and abstraction.
Jeonghan remembers those days, the exaltation and having thought that it was the beginning, a continuous flow of a cluster of emotions and sensations that flooded his chest and belly. It was the beginning of purple-tinted night escapades, of rough hands against his hips, of an addiction to that combination of pain and pleasure.
But that never progressed: almost like a virus, Jeonghan discovers himself more and more indifferent. His body reacts, there is expectation when lips crash against his and his body finds itself being crushed against another much taller and muscular; and yet the casual interest does not overcome the excitement he gets from other activities once the novelty fades and his hormones level out with age.
And only then does Jeonghan find himself in a strange limbo that no one had told him about until now. A state that no one else seems to experience in the same way.
”Yoon Jeonghan!”
Boo’s knuckles knock twice against his temple and Jeonghan chuckles before burying his face deeper into his chest. There are a thousand unspoken words in his mouth, a sequence of questions that are always just one layer of insecurity away from spilling over into the space between him and the others.
How do you know if you’re in love? What makes a couple better when we can do all those things and feel so deeply as friends? How do you know it’s that kind of love when sex is secondary, when that kind of attraction is independent, when it’s not indispensable?
Jeonghan sighs, opening and closing his mouth until Boo’s hand on his back seems to push at the fabric of vowels, consonants and silence.
“Seungkwannie… is there something wrong with me?”