Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Younghyun came home to see Wonpil’s room void of everything but the furniture that came with the dorm, as if a thief had broken in and ransacked it. 

There was no crime that took place, to Younghyun's relief—but there was Wonpil on the floor, folding clothes and arranging them in a huge suitcase, and Sungjin taping up boxes beside him. 

“Hyung, I can't find my favorite pair of pajamas.”

“The white one? I don't think it's in my closet but let me check.” Sungjin got up and his eyes widened at Younghyun hovering by the door. “Oh, Kangbra, you're back early?” 

Younghyun stood still. He waited for Wonpil to start explaining, or to run to him and embrace him and say, “You worked hard today, hyung” like he always did these days.

Or to at least look at him.

Wonpil did none of that—Younghyun turned around and followed Sungjin to his room instead. 

“I don't understand.”

“Wonpil’s moving out. He’s going to start staying in his own apartment tonight.”

“If this is a joke, it's not funny, hyung.”

“Kangbra.” He could hear the pity in the way Sungjin called his name, and it crushed any further attempt to be in denial.

“How—I—it’s just too sudden.” Realization dawned on Younghyun. “But not for you. How long?”

“A few weeks before he got discharged.”

That made it at least two months that he was kept in the dark, despite all the phone calls, all the late night talks after Wonpil came back. Wonpil planned everything without the intention of letting Younghyun know, all while enlisting Sungjin’s help.

And was Younghyun supposed to just accept that?

“Did you find it?” a voice asked behind him.

Sungjin shrugged. “It's not in my closet, Wonpil-ah.”

“Bri-hyung, can you see if it's in yours?”

Younghyun couldn’t hold back a scoff. Should he be thankful to a pair of pajamas, that Wonpil finally chose to acknowledge his existence because of them?

He hurried to his room and knocked his head against the door of his closet. Tears were relentlessly flowing from the corners of his tightly shut eyes, faster and clearer than Younghyun’s thoughts.

How could he even begin to understand Wonpil’s actions? It made no sense for him to move out so abruptly and without notice, after recently getting to settle down again and while they were busy with preparations for their first concert in years and a comeback that would happen in the near future.

Younghyun still remembered how Wonpil would always sigh about missing their dorm when he was on the ship. The word home would slip out of Wonpil sometimes with a bashful laugh, and Younghyun would respond with little domestic episodes, like how he used Wonpil’s shampoo with belated permission.

He couldn't figure out why Wonpil decided to leave it all behind now—the home he had longed for—and Younghyun who had waited.

The pajamas Wonpil was looking for were sitting at the bottom of Younghyun’s loungewear stack when he opened his closet; it must've been mixed in with his clothes when he did the laundry for Wonpil on one of his vacations.

“Hyung, you just finished a schedule. Just rest. I'll do it later.”

“I want to. There's nothing I can do for you when you're in the middle of the sea for weeks straight. At least let me take care of this.”

He squeezed it once and then shoved it into the back of his closet. 

Younghyun entered Wonpil’s room. “I couldn’t find it.”

“Oh no. Did I lose them? But how?” Wonpil frowned and whined—his biggest concern right now seemed to be the missing pair of pajamas and not Younghyun about to lose his mind. He rummaged through the suitcase again. “Maybe I already put them in and I just didn't notice?”

“Wonpil-ah.”

“I’ll check the laundry basket.”

Younghyun blocked his path and pressed the door shut with his body before Wonpil could leave. 

“Kim Wonpil,” he called again. Younghyun’s voice must have come out harsher than he intended because Wonpil flinched. Despite the hurt in his chest that made it hard to breathe, Younghyun softened his tone, “Look at me.”

“Hmm?” Wonpil glanced at him for a second before hanging his head down again. Did that mean he felt guilty? If he was aware of what all of this was doing to Younghyun, then—

“Why?”

“I just felt like it was about time for me to live alone. And I didn't want to bother you because you already have so much going on.” 

Bother? Since when was that a word that could be uttered between them? 

“Aren't you supposed to be on a schedule right now? I thought you wouldn't be back until tomorrow evening.”

The indignation that Younghyun felt and had desperately tried not to show surged at what Wonpil said.

“Then were you going to keep it a secret from me until you moved out? Until I came home after three days of shooting and you're nowhere to be found?”

Wonpil looked up.

“Yes.” He smiled, without a trace of the guilt that Younghyun thought he would find. “I’ll see you at my housewarming dinner next week, hyung.” 

“Wonpil-ah, I don’t—”

“Don't worry, I'll make sure to set it on a day when you don't have work.”

Younghyun cupped Wonpil’s face and then pressed their foreheads together when he felt Wonpil attempting to turn away.

“Why… are you doing this to me?” 

“Hyung, what are you talking about?” Wonpil placed his hands on top of Younghyun’s, only to remove them from his cheeks. “I'm doing this for myself.” 

Something unfamiliar burned in Wonpil’s eyes—Younghyun couldn’t tell what it was. It was cold and distant, different from the anger and disappointment that he had caused all those years ago. 

But is that what this was? A fight?  

Then why can’t Younghyun land any punches? Why was Wonpil completely unaffected by his evident misery? In the first place, why didn’t he have a chance to change Wonpil’s mind—to try everything that he could to stop him even if it resulted in a disagreement?

This was not a fight.

Wonpil didn’t give Younghyun the right to start one.

Wonpil escaped to the bathroom after their conversation, saying that he wanted to take a shower before he left the dorm. The thought of running after Wonpil and locking him in his grasp until he revealed every single thing he was hiding crossed Younghyun’s mind—he couldn’t, in the end. He was terrified that he might see something worse in Wonpil’s eyes if he did.

“Why didn't you stop him, hyung? You should have convinced him to stay,” Younghyun snapped after he headed back to Sungjin’s room with heavy steps, fully aware that he was like a child throwing a tantrum but not caring enough to control himself. 

“You know how stubborn Wonpil can be when he's made up his mind. And he already had, before he even talked to me.”

“If I knew… then I could've tried and…”

“You're going to upset yourself further thinking about the what-if's. It's Wonpil's decision.” Sungjin sighed when Younghyun sharply shook his head. He added, “And he’ll be fine—he’s learned how to take care of himself for the past two years.”

“This isn't like him—moving out and keeping it a secret from me—Wonpil wouldn't do that. He wouldn't,” Younghyun murmured repeatedly in a daze.

The Wonpil that hugged him every time he came back from a solo schedule and the Wonpil that had casually admitted that he planned to move out while Younghyun was away—both tormented him and sent Younghyun in a spiral of doubt. One of them had to be more real than the other. Younghyun just didn’t know what he would do if it was the latter. 

Sungjin tapped Younghyun’s arm as he passed by the door. “Sorry, I need to go. I’m driving Wonpil to his new place.”

“Hyung, wait. Wonpil must've told you his reasons.”

“Don't ask me when you know I can't talk about it,” Sungjin replied with both his hands raised. 

“Just—anything. Please.”

As long as it pointed him in a direction. As long as it gave him even the slightest glimpse inside Wonpil’s heart that Younghyun foolishly thought was no longer out of his reach.

“Kangbra, get some rest and think about it again,” Sungjin softly urged. “You have all the answers already, don't you?” 

It was the one thing that Younghyun didn’t want to hear.

Chapter Text

For the first time in his life, Wonpil chose to run away from something. 

He didn't go anywhere too far—an apartment 20 minutes away from the dorm was enough, for now. 

“If you were going to feel so guilty about it, then why did you do that to Kangbra?” 

Sungjin glanced at the crumpled tissues in Wonpil's lap as he turned off his car’s engine. He had been sobbing the moment they left the dorm, and the box of tissues in the console was all used up.

“I don't know,” Wonpil replied, sinking deeper into the passenger seat.

The vivid image of Younghyun with red eyes and tear marks on his shirt when he asked Wonpil for an explanation never left his mind, and he wished there was some sort of logic behind his decisions to make Younghyun understand—but the truth was that Wonpil was simply following the impulses of his heart, which seemed like it would burst at any moment if he kept staying at their dorm.

And despite the guilt that followed, Wonpil found that he did not regret any of his selfish actions. 

“Was I… was I too cruel?”

It was Sungjin's consideration that he didn't give an answer and only patted the back of Wonpil's head before getting out of the car.

-------------

“Hyung, you don't have a frying pan at all?” Dowoon asked Wonpil. “No knives and no cutting board either.”

“Do I need them? I don’t cook.”

“You always think you don’t need them until you do.”

“Hmm… that's true.”

“I'm here, as your sunbae in living alone, to make sure you have everything you need to survive,” he announced with a proud huff as he inspected every cupboard and drawer in Wonpil's kitchen. Dowoon had arrived two hours earlier than the set time of Wonpil's housewarming dinner, just to go through all the rooms in his apartment and take down notes of missing essentials.

“I've survived a week without accidents or starving myself.”

But not without asking an empty room what they would have for dinner and waiting for the front door to open in the middle of the night after listening to the radio.  

“Ey, a week barely counts, especially since you're always at the company anyway.”

Wonpil wrapped an arm around Dowoon's shoulder. “You could stay here sometimes and make sure your hyung doesn't die. We can have sleepovers.”

“What's the point of you moving out if I do that?” Dowoon shook him off and added, “You should you offer that to Younghyun-hyung. He's been asking me and Sungjin-hyung about how you're doing.”

“Really?”

“This fight between you guys is taking a while, huh? What did he do? Or what did you do?” 

The doorbell rang and Wonpil ran to the intercom, grateful for the distraction and not quite ready yet to tell Dowoon what he had told Sungjin. “That must be the food.”

Instead of a delivery man, it was Sungjin standing outside. He was carrying a box half the size of his chest and a few paper bags.

“Hi, hyung. Come in.”

“There was a sudden change in Kangbra's schedule,” Sungjin cut to the chase. “He can't make it.”

“Ah. That's okay,” Wonpil said with a smile, although Sungjin's frown made it obvious that he wasn't convinced.

“But he asked me to give his housewarming gifts to you.”

Sungjin set down the items on Wonpil's coffee table. Dowoon walked over to them and peered at the gifts although they were still wrapped. “Wow.”

“I’m going back down to get the others.”

“Others?”

“Others?” Dowoon echoed and then cackled. “I'm gonna assume he's the one that did something wrong. How many did that hyung buy?” 

“Lost count. Every day there were packages delivered to the dorm, turns out they were all for Wonpil.” Sungjin clutched the back of Dowoon's collar before he could go back to the kitchen. “Actually, lend me a hand.”

One of Younghyun's gifts was an entire crate of tangerines, already shared with guests and halfway through. The rest were waiting for Wonpil in his bedroom after the housewarming dinner.

Wonpil started with the tall bags. As he expected, they were bottles of wine and whiskey that reminded him of a time he didn't want to dwell on in his current state. There were smaller bags next to them, filled to the brim with packs of gummies and snacks that Wonpil liked to eat when he drank.

His eyes were already starting to sting, but Wonpil paid them no attention, took a deep breath, and moved on to the next gift. Before Wonpil even finished opening it, a faint but familiar scent filled his nose—it was a bottle of perfume that he was running out of. There was a diffuser and body wash of the same scent in another bag.

“Why is there so much?” he muttered pointlessly. 

The gifts seemed endless. Only after a blanket, an electric razor, and a set of fancy chopsticks was he able to get to the last box.

As he tore the wrapping and saw what it was, Wonpil couldn’t continue holding back his tears.

On the first night Younghyun went on his three-day shoot, Wonpil’s bluetooth speaker suddenly died. They talked for the entire hour Younghyun was on a break and Wonpil grumbled in passing about how he had to borrow Sungjin's speaker that didn't have as many settings. 

Wonpil placed Younghyun's gift on his coffee table, right beside the one he had already bought when he moved in. 

-------------

A phone call in the middle of the sea.

“When I get discharged, I have something to tell you, hyung.”

A pause long enough to turn Wonpil's anticipation into dread.

“Wonpil-ah… can't we just stay like this forever?”

A confession only heard by the stars.

Loud buzzing woke Wonpil with a start. 

Wonpil dug his head against his arm and blindly reached for his phone around the dining table to answer the call.

“Hello?” he greeted in a low voice, still groggy from his nap and annoyed by the memory that invaded his dream.

The person on the other side of the call was silent for a few seconds—Wonpil was exhausted enough that he was tempted to just hang up without even checking who it was and head to bed. 

“Wonpil.”

“...Bri-hyung?”

“I’m downstairs.”

“You're…”

“Here. At your building.” Wonpil sat up, drowsiness all gone and replaced with pounding in his chest that he could feel even in his ears. “Can I come up?”

“I failed again.” Younghyun saw the identical bluetooth speakers the moment he walked in. The wine glass and peeled tangerine skins on the table caught his attention next. “But not with everything, at least.”

Wonpil shook his head. “You didn't fail. Thank you for the gifts, hyung.” 

“Then I'll get going. I just wanted to say congratulations on the housewarming.”

“Already? Let me show you around.”

“No—I—I should go. I'll let you rest. Manager's waiting for me in the parking lot.”

“I'm glad you came.” Wonpil pinched Younghyun's sleeve with two fingers and tugged. “It won't take long.”

The apartment Wonpil chose was less than half the size of their dorm. Besides the living, bath, dining and kitchen, it only had a loft that served as a bedroom and a small walk-in closet. It had been Wonpil’s recent fantasy to fill his space with the things he liked, in a minimal aesthetic with accents of red and black that he couldn’t pull off in his old room, but his apartment was still pale and lifeless.

Younghyun silently trailed behind Wonpil for the five minutes he toured him around and barely reacted to his explanations. Every time he glanced at Younghyun, his face was grim with unnecessary apologies that stirred the guilt inside Wonpil. 

As Younghyun prepared to leave, Wonpil stopped him by reaching for his hand. “Hyung, can you give me one last gift?”

“You never ask for anything.” Younghyun's expression lightened up as he stared at their entwined hands, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “What is it?”

To return to their long phone calls, their late-night talks, their warm embraces—Wonpil wanted to do all these things again without his heart racing in bliss but weighed down with greed at the same time.

“Let me say what I couldn't, back then.”

He didn't wait for Younghyun's permission. The words had to find their owner—only then can Wonpil's start letting go of the feelings that had become a burden to both of them. Only then can he start to fix what he had ruined.

“I'm in love with you, hyung,” he breathed out. 

Younghyun inhaled sharply as turned his gaze to the floor and clenched his fist that wasn’t held by Wonpil. 

“I’m in love with you,” Wonpil repeated his confession, allowing himself a final act of pure selfishness. This was the last time Younghyun would have to endure hearing it. 

“But not for much longer, I promise—and then we can go back to the way we were.”