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“So, we all know why we’re here,” Yuma announces, starting their little meeting.
The seven of them are gathered in a small circle in their practice room. There’s two noticeable absences in the group; their two leaders, sent off for an impromptu meeting with their staff (not at all intentionally coordinated alongside their managers, in exchange for a week of peace and quiet).
“Because,” K starts, leaning back, “the romantic tension between our two lovely leaders has become so obnoxious that even Taki, who didn’t realise these two,” he points between Harua and Maki, “were together until he walked in on them, twice, has managed to catch on.”
“Can you please not bring that up again? It’s still embarrassing,” Taki grumbles. “Besides, it really is bad.”
And it was. None of them were exactly sure what had sparked feelings between Euijoo and Fuma, but all of a sudden they could see it. Euijoo flushing bright red when Fuma casually came right up close to adjust a part of his stage outfit, or Fuma smiling shyly to himself whenever he found Euijoo’s Japanese intonation cute. It was clear there was something there, regardless of whether the two of them wanted to acknowledge it or not.
“I’m actually at the point where I want to unsee things I’m seeing,” Maki cringes inwardly.
Barely two months ago, Maki had been lying on the couch in their dorm living room, with Fuma next to him, Switch connected to the TV playing Pokemon Scarlet for the umpteenth time. Every so often, he made a noise, signifying to Maki that he’d been successful in catching another Pokemon. With the way Fuma was leaning towards the TV, wide eyed as he intently focused on his growing Pokedex, Maki had half the mind to call out his poor posture, but remained silent.
He heard the front door clicking open and someone stepping into the entrance hall, unsure of who it was until Euijoo had chimed with an “I’m home!” and Fuma, even entranced as he was on his game, had immediately responded with a “welcome back!”
Euijoo set two bags down on the table, shucking off his coat and placing it over a chair.
“How was shopping?” Fuma asked, barely looking over at Euijoo before his focus was back on the screen.
“Good,” Euijoo said. “Got something to read in Japanese; might be a little too hard for now, though.”
Fuma hummed in acknowledgement.
“Oh, wait,” Euijoo paused for a moment, before digging into the pocket of the jacket he’d just set down and pulling out something small. “For you, Fuma-kun.”
Fuma looked back up at Euijoo, who dangled a small Eevee charm on his finger. He let out a small noise of surprise, standing up to look at it closer.
“That’s so cute,” Fuma exclaimed, smiling widely. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I passed a gacha store on the way back, and just happened to see it. I thought you’d like it.”
The two leaders shared a smile, and there was something there that Maki had barely registered as he watched the exchange between the two of them. When Fuma had returned to playing, there was an unconscious smile on his face that clearly wasn’t going away any time soon, and he could hear Euijoo humming from across the room.
Since then, Maki had noticed the changing interactions between their two leaders, and couldn’t help but wonder if that was how the others felt when they saw him and Harua.
“At the time, I was thinking, wait, did I really just see that? But now, I just keep noticing it more and more often,” Maki laughs, and there’s immediately a burst of noise from other members acknowledging similar events.
“I think they almost kissed in front of me not too long ago,” Jo says, managing to project over all the rowdiness.
The rest of them whip their heads to Jo immediately.
There was no complicated story here; Jo had just needed to use the bathroom when it had happened. He had walked in, and watched Euijoo and Fuma jolt apart. If he really thought about it, they may not have been about to kiss at all, but it certainly felt like he was intruding on something big. Jo stood there for a second, running through a thousand scenarios in his mind in a split second and realised he wasn’t mentally prepared to deal with any of that. So, doing what any non-confrontational person would do in an awkward situation, he immediately walked back out again.
“Is that why you looked so shell-shocked coming out of the toilets like, two weeks ago? I thought you’d seen a ghost or something, Jo-kun,” Harua asks, incredulously, and Jo responds with a grim nod.
“And you didn’t tell anyone about it then?” Yuma asks.
Jo shakes his head.
“Well, I guess that just tells us that if there’s anyone here we can trust with a secret, it’s Jo,” K quips.
“No, wait, don’t put that kind of pressure on me,” Jo groans. The rest of them can’t help but laugh at his reaction.
The conversation once again turns back to Fuma and Euijoo.
“I mean, I tried to ask Juju about it last week, but he kind of freaked…” Nicholas says.
They were sitting on one of the couches in their practice room, alone, when Nicholas had brought it up for the first time.
“Juju,” Nicholas started, nudging his friend.
All Euijoo acknowledged him with was a small grunt. His focus was not on Nicholas, but the videos he was scrolling through on his phone.
“Can we talk about the Fuma thing?”
Staying perfectly true to himself, Euijoo didn’t answer. Nicholas knew exactly what Euijoo was thinking; ah, shit, he’s figured it out; but this is Nicholas, so I don’t have to deign to answer him.
“Dude, come on,” Nicholas groaned. “I hate when you do that.”
When Euijoo still didn’t react, Nicholas grabbed him by the shoulder and started to shake him, whining. Every single time they tried to have a serious conversation, Euijoo always tried to dodge it in some way.
“Don’t,” Euijoo gritted out.
“Seriously!” Nicholas insisted. “The fact that you’re dodging the question so hard means there is something.”
Euijoo pocketed his phone with a huff.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Juju, I’ve watched you moon over him like a middle schooler!”
“Moon over–what the fuck does that even mean?”
Okay, so maybe Nicholas had slipped in new vocabulary he’d just learnt in Japanese and Euijoo had no idea what he was talking about, but that happened sometimes when you had four languages and one or two dialects between you.
“The point is, you have a crush on him.”
Euijoo straightened up defensively. “So what if I do?”
Well, at least he wasn’t denying it.
“Well, aren’t you going to do something about it?”
“That’s just– I mean, the thought of that–” Euijoo struggled out, quietly. Nicholas knew he was starting to push Euijoo too far when he started to shrink back in on himself, all prior fight seeping out of him.
“But–”
“ Stop it , Nicho. I don’t really want to talk about it.” He turned away from Nicholas, shutting him out. Nicholas knew not to push it any further, even if he knew that Euijoo was hiding something more.
As Nicholas finishes his storytelling, the members are silent. If there were any members in their group that were particularly stubborn, it was their two leaders; convincing them to take action on something like this was going to be near impossible.
“So what, is this an intervention? Because I don’t know if I want to go anywhere near whatever’s going on there.” Yuma says, shaking his head.
“We can’t just let them go on like that forever!” Nicholas groans. “Look, it was fine before, but it’s actually starting to get depressing to see Euijoo pine like that.”
There’s a pregnant pause in the room.
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Taki mutters.
“No, we can’t just– ugh, I don’t know, I’ll take anything at this point.” Maki says.
“Look, I think they just need a little…” K gestures vaguely, “Push, in the right direction.”
The rest of the members nod in agreement, and K waves everyone to move in closer to listen to him.
Just as he finishes telling everyone about their little plan, the door opens and their two leaders walk into the practice room. Fuma has a raised brow as he puts his bag down, watching all the other members spring apart, barely managing to conceal what they had just been doing. Euijoo squints suspiciously at Nicholas in particular, who raises his hands defensively.
It’s not like neither Fuma nor Euijoo have worked out what the other members have been doing. Regardless of Euijoo telling off Nicholas for interfering multiple times, they seem to be invested in the relationship between their two leaders.
If you ask Euijoo, it all started - or at least, he first noticed it - maybe six months ago. He’d been sitting in a waiting room while the rest of the members had their hair and makeup done, working through kanji writing practice in his Japanese textbook. The younger members occasionally made fun of him for using such simplistic books - something primary school students might use - but it worked for him, so he stubbornly continued to use it. Euijoo was deep in focus; eyes glued to the page, tongue out. He could never become complacent when it came to learning Japanese. It still felt like some of the members - K and Fuma, namely - had better Korean than he had Japanese, and it filled him with a sense of inadequacy as a member, and even moreso as a leader, regardless of how many times the others told him it didn’t matter. So he kept practicing, whenever, wherever.
Euijoo was in the middle of writing in the character for every when he felt a warm presence come up from behind him. It was easy to tell who it was, even as they just observed him; the citrusy, tea-like scent of Fuma’s perfume projected gently into his space. Fuma didn’t say anything, but Euijoo could feel him watching over everything he was writing onto the page. It was a comforting presence, and Euijoo didn’t feel self-conscious in the slightest. He knew Fuma would never tease him for his efforts; he was probably the one who helped Euijoo the most, with the least amount of judgement.
He felt Fuma reach forward, pressing himself barely against Euijoo’s side, to point at the kanji Euijoo had been writing.
“This one,” Fuma started, tapping the page. “You’ve written it incorrectly.”
Euijoo looked down at where Fuma was pointing, and looked back up at Fuma, twisting his head in confusion. It’s not like it was a particularly difficult character; it’s probably one he’d been writing for years at this point.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“These two strokes here are meant to be connected, rather than separate.” Fuma ran his fingertip down the centre of the character, and Euijoo’s eyes followed the motion intently. “Here, I’ll show you.” He gestured for Euijoo’s pen, which he handed over, and Fuma quickly drew a line to connect the two individual strokes Euijoo had made originally.
“Huh.” Euijoo wasn’t quite sure where he learnt to write the character like that, but what Fuma had shown him was marginally easier. Was it something his Japanese teacher had just not picked up on?
“You don’t connect those lines in the kanji for mother, so you might have gotten it mixed up. Either that, or you’ve been influenced by Nicholas; I think you would write it like that in Chinese.”
Euijoo nods absently, but he’s still vaguely distracted by the feeling of Fuma at his side.
“You’ve become pretty good at writing kanji, haven’t you? As expected of our talented leader.” He felt Fuma pat his shoulder, barely squeezing him before he got up and walked away, leaving Euijoo shell-shocked. He raised the back of his hand to his cheek, and it was warm.
Those feelings had only grown stronger in the past few months; every time he was close to Fuma - which was most of the time, given they did everything together - there was always a part of him that felt just a little flustered. He noticed every little thing that Fuma did so nonchalantly; when he bought snacks just for Euijoo on his way home on a day off, or saving the last piece of meat for Euijoo even knowing that he needed to eat far more protein than Euijoo did. Fuma didn’t need to tell him verbally for Euijoo to see his care and affection for him; that was just the kind of person he was, and Euijoo was eternally grateful for him, even as those feelings gradually changed from appreciation to something more.
Every so often, Fuma would give him the barest hint of something back. A flicker of his eyes down to Euijoo’s lips, the tips of his ears turning pink, but whenever Euijoo thought he was getting somewhere, Fuma seemed to act like nothing had happened. He had a vague idea of what Fuma was doing. Always the hero; always trying to shield his members, and perhaps sacrificing a little bit more of himself every single time.
The epiphany had come slightly later for Fuma. Maybe it was because he hadn’t realised it, or just hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. There was no particular moment to it; just, ah, Euijoo really is cute, and that was it. He would be the first to say that his self esteem wasn’t the best, especially after years of rejection and being told that he wouldn’t make it as an idol. He’d come to see himself as… not exactly an outsider, but perhaps on the periphery of things, always the observer, the back-up; he wasn’t centre material. He’d accepted his role as such, even in &TEAM.
Fuma had said as much to Euijoo, aided by a couple of bottles of soju between them when they both went out for dinner in Korea barely a week ago.
As soon as Euijoo heard his spiel, he put down his chopsticks, pouring them both another shot of soju and signalling for Fuma to take his. They both drank quickly, used to the taste by this point; Euijoo turning away from Fuma regardless of the number of times Fuma had told him it wasn’t necessary to do that.
Euijoo put his glass down with an audible thunk, lacking the usual restraint he usually had when in public. It was a little shocking to see him like that, and maybe just slightly amusing to Fuma, too.
“Hyung,” he said emphatically, voice cracking maybe just the slightest, and in Korean, because they always spoke in Korean when it was just the two of them, even since Euijoo’s Japanese improved. “It really hurts me to hear you say that, you know?”
Fuma was taken aback, putting his own glass down. Euijoo looked genuinely frustrated.
“I rely on you more than anyone in the group, and you always help me with Japanese, or with the choreography, and… and, ah–” he paused for a moment to wipe his eyes. “Didn’t I already tell you that you were my leader?”
Fuma’s features softened at Euijoo’s display, the barest smile on his lips. Of course a drunk Euijoo would feel so bad about something like this he would cry. He reached over the table with a napkin to wipe at Euijoo’s eyes himself, causing the younger man to flinch, shining black eyes staring back at him.
“Don’t cry, Euijoo-yah. Hyung’s sorry for saying that.”
Euijoo hiccupped, and Fuma wasn’t not sure if it was from the alcohol or from the tears but he did find it endearing. He’s always found Euijoo cute; round-eyed and lanky with his endearing accent when he spoke Japanese.
“Hyung, you’re really cool.” Euijoo insisted.
Fuma only laughed, picking up another bit of barbecued meat with his chopsticks.
“Thank you, Euijoo-yah. Seriously.”
“And hyung’s handsome, too,” Euijoo continued, clearly feeling on a compliment roll now, or something.
Fuma raised a brow, making eye contact with Euijoo again.
“Yeah?” Fuma asked, somewhat curiously. There was a rising flush on Euijoo’s ears and cheeks, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the soju or from something else.
“Yeah.” Euijoo finished, decisively, holding their eye contact. He knew from the look on Euijoo’s face that it was more than just honesty; it was vulnerability he was showing. It wasn’t like he could make a more bold declaration in public, but he knew Euijoo; he could read very easily between the lines, especially knowing how Euijoo had acted around him recently.
Fuma wasn’t sure if he was ready to confront it yet. The thought that he might feel something… more, for Euijoo, and that that feeling might even be reciprocated, made him feel anxious at the very least. These kinds of things were always too complicated if you were an idol, and even more so because he was… well, Fuma. His stomach rolled.
So with a final smile, he broke their eye contact, eating a final piece of meat.
“Let’s head back,” he said, with an air of finality. He could see Euijoo droop down barely, hiding whatever he was feeling behind his typical public smile.
They both left once Fuma had paid, physically blocking Euijoo from the card reader, and walked back home together. It was still slightly warm out, but the wind carried a chill; Fuma put his hands into his jacket pockets. He could feel Euijoo barely nudging into him as they both walked along, just slightly too tipsy to walk straight, and he appreciated the warmth at his side. He couldn’t help feeling the pit in his stomach grow larger. Every moment he spent like this with Euijoo brought them closer to the end of whatever this was, but it was a thought he barely wanted to acknowledge.
It was clear they were now at an impasse. Every cliche moment where one looked away the moment the other turned toward them, every forlorn sigh from Euijoo that they managed to catch before he put his guard back up. Not even the continued attempts at intervention from the younger members did anything happen; Euijoo was too uncomfortable to even say anything about it, and Fuma had completely shut the thought from his mind. It was becoming unbearable; their two leaders struggled to communicate beyond stilted conversations the longer this went on. And so with one final meeting, it was decided that K would be the one to break the stalemate.
“Fuma,” K calls, distantly. Fuma looks up from where he’s been sorting through a new set of cards he’d just bought. K tilts his head, gesturing for him to follow.
The two of them end up in K’s room, and they sit on the edge of his bed together.
“So,” K says, slowly. “I wanted to talk about… uh,” he hesitates. Fuma raises a brow.
“Yes..?” Fuma tries to prompt him.
“Ugh,” K rubs his forehead. “Why did I have to be the one doing this? Um. You, and Euijoo. The kids are starting to catch on, and I wanted to ask you about it before you had a bunch of nineteen year olds jumping you.”
“Ah, that, ” Fuma confirms.
“Yes, that. ”
“Uh…” Fuma scratches at his neck. “There’s not really much to say.”
“Don’t avoid the conversation.”
“I mean, we like each other, sure, but that doesn’t mean we can just, you know,” he trails off as he sees K’s blank face. “Date, as idols, and all…”
“So you know he feels the same way?” K asks, more forcefully.
Fuma nods, barely sheepish.
“You’re not doing anything about it?” You’re not going to fight for it, or anything?”
Fuma hums. “Well… we haven’t really talked about it, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea, you know?” He laughs grimly. “The two leaders of a group; I can’t foresee that going badly at all.”
He watches K consider this thought for a moment, brow furrowed.
“Look, Fuma, I know you think this is all fine and good as it is, and that you’re protecting the group, but things won’t always go the way you think if you just… pretend like this,” K starts.
“You haven’t noticed, have you? Euijoo’s unhappy. He’ll look out the window all pensive like he’s a depressed high schooler when he thinks you’re not around, but he pretends he’s fine as soon as you’re there. Did you know he does that?”
Fuma looks down, picking at a nail. Of course he knows it. He’s always looking at Euijoo, even if Euijoo doesn’t think he is.
K has never felt the need to be angry at Fuma, let alone ever needing to lecture him like this. But when something was beginning to affect group morale like this, it was something that needed to be addressed and resolved, not pushed down and hidden away. It was infuriating for K to see Fuma treating himself like this, let alone bringing Euijoo down with him.
“You know I trust you. I always trust you to do the right thing, Fuma, because that’s the kind of guy you are. But right now, you’re scared, and you’re running, and you’re affecting the others because of that. I can’t let you do that to yourself, Fuma. This isn’t fair on you, on Euijoo, or on us.”
“So what do you want me to do, hyung?” Fuma asks, quietly, with resignation.
“Just talk to each other. Properly. Candidly . I don’t think you’ve actually given Euijoo a chance to talk about what he wants, have you?” Fuma shakes his head, ashamed. “Then that’s what you need to do.”
Fuma sighs, and moves to stand, before K puts a hand on his leg to stop him.
“I know why you’re doing this, Fuma. You and I both know what it’s like to be given an opportunity like we have, at our age. I know you want to protect that. But… I think you deserve this, too.” K says, and pats his leg one last time. “Have a think about it.”
Fuma nods absently as K leaves him to himself. With his eyes shut tightly, Fuma exhales shakily, suddenly realising how tense he is.
“Fuma-hyung.” A voice calls out to him in Korean, breaking him from his focus.
He looks up, wide eyed. Euijoo is standing in the door frame, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows nervously.
“Um,” Euijoo pauses, clearly not knowing what to say. At all. “The kids sent me in here…” he gestures back behind him vaguely, clearly a little disoriented, and the anxiety is clear in his wide eyed stare.
Fuma’s eyes soften. Euijoo’s as nervous as he is about this, and their meddling members are trying to force them into reconciling. Fuma huffs out a laugh, suddenly not feeling so shitty about this, and pats the space of bed that K had previously occupied. Euijoo shuts the door behind him and sits down, tentatively. There’s barely a ruler’s length between them but it feels like they’re miles apart.
“I wanted to–”
“I just–”
They both pause.
“You go first, hyung.” Euijoo offers.
Fuma nods, taking a breath.
“I’m sorry for treating you the way I have. For not acknowledging your feelings,” he starts. This conversation is painfully awkward, and Fuma really wishes he wasn’t here right now. “I thought it would be less painful for both of us if I didn’t say anything. If I just… suppressed my own feelings.”
Euijoo’s mouth drops open the slightest amount.
“Hyung, I thought you were just letting me down gently,” He admits, incredulous. “You mean… I– you—?” Whatever Euijoo’s trying to say is incoherent, but Fuma nods nonetheless, looking at Euijoo properly.
For the first time in a while, there’s a glint of hope in Euijoo’s dark eyes, and the slightest flush on his cheeks. Fuma imagines himself to be similarly affected.
There’s another moment of silence before the bed dips, and Euijoo is leaning in to kiss him. Fuma, for once, just indulges himself. There’s nothing rushed about it; they’re both a bit unpracticed, and Fuma raises a hand to thumb at the barest stubble growing on Euijoo’s jaw, deepening the kiss. Euijoo’s the first to let go, pressing their heads together just to breathe in each other’s spaces just for a moment longer. He lets out a quiet laugh, and Fuma can’t help but grin too.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard, after all.
“No more self-sacrificing bullshit, hyung, seriously.”
Fuma nods reluctantly, looking away.
“I just thought it would be better for the group if I didn’t complicate things with more feelings,” he murmurs.
“It’s not just you. It’s both of us, so stop pretending you’re the only one in the wrong here,” Euijoo insists.“You can’t just convince me to stop liking you.”
Fuma scoffs. Of course this would be one of those things Euijoo wouldn’t compromise on. Maybe– just maybe – it would be okay to let himself feel this.
“Alright, then. I’ll take your word on that,” Fuma quips, pulling the thinner man in closer until Euijoo is barely straddling him, an appeased smile on Euijoo’s face as Fuma kisses him again. “ Euijoo .”
There’s just something in the way Fuma says his name that makes Euijoo melt all over again.
Taki opens the door, and Euijoo immediately pushes himself off Fuma.
“Fuck, not again!” Taki shouts, immediately closing it again.
They laugh too hard to hear K’s distant shouting to get off his bed.