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Jiwoong stared into the crowd, remembering to take deep, measured breaths. His group members shifted nervously around him as they waited for the musical cue to start their performance.
Nerves buzzed beneath his skin. It was only natural, under this level of scrutiny, but the persistence of it grated at his mood and self-confidence. Jiwoong had debuted before—once, almost twice—so this idol survival show should have been nothing, comparatively. At least, this first step to even qualify to be noticed by the judges and the audience should have been nothing to him.
But this was his last chance to debut—he was acutely aware of the fact. At twenty-four, he was essentially decrepit by the industry's standards. In that regard at least, he was at a disadvantage.
Jiwoong smiled as the camera pointed at him, then he glanced away and up to the gaping mouths of the other trainees in the tiered seats—young, talented trainees.
All of them were Jiwoong's rivals. The deep, crackling fire of competition burned all the brighter in Jiwoong's chest. This certainly wouldn't be easy, but he thrived on this pressure to be better, to outperform everyone around him.
He inhaled, centering himself again. It wouldn't do to get ahead of himself. More experienced, popular competitors had failed in idol survival shows before him, often because they couldn't meet the higher bar set for expectations. Or, perhaps the audience and the producing team had simply grown tired of them.
Jiwoong clutched his rose prop in the palm of his hand, testing the soft give of the deep red petals beneath his grasp. The petals were gradually growing stained with the sweat from his palm. He breathed in. Exhaled.
He needed a way to not only capture, but keep the audience's attention. Acting came easily to him, but he was happiest singing, and he had said as much during the interview before this performance.
He saw a couple of the trainees holding hands in the audience, seeking moral support from each other.
Jiwoong blinked slowly, an idea starting to take form in his mind.
The music started, and his thoughts took pause as he gave the performance everything he had.
Staring at a group's subpar practice performance with unseeing eyes, Jiwoong mulled that awaiting thought over in his brain, turning it over and examining it from all sides.
Jiwoong had an idea. But this idea would be a tricky act to balance between learning team performances and songs.
But... with the right person, it would be simple.
Simple as evoking chemistry on the big screen.
Jiwoong needed a "BL" partner. An accomplice, a partner in crime. A victim? He smiled, only faintly aware of the camera zooming in on his expression.
It stood to reason that Zhang Hao with his different daily hair clips to avoid evil editing would naturally fall into an on-screen friendship with one of the most powerful Korean trainees, Hanbin.
Jiwoong needed to learn from them. But who was good enough to play his foil? Who would be the calyx to his rose? The queen—he stopped that train of thought in its tracks, grimacing inwardly—no, the loyal knight to his kingly demeanor?
He needed to pick someone, and quickly, before more of the best trainees fell away from his grasp and into close-knit friendships with the others. The mental image of an hourglass crossed his mind, sand falling into the lower chamber below. He had to act quickly, but wisely.
Jiwoong's gaze scanned over the crowd, then halted as he noticed a boy with fox-like eyes and a charming smile winning over a group of trainees with his French and English commentary.
Ah, the Canadian: Matthew.
Matthew was certainly cute, with distinctive fox-like features and a memorable face. He was someone to monitor in the rankings, especially with his ability to speak English and appeal to a foreign audience. He'd likely draw an American fanbase.
So, what was the harm in associating himself more closely with such a bright personality? Jiwoong was often typecast as the mysterious, handsome man, but he was aware he could come off as boring. He was a little less cheerful than many of these younger trainees, and didn't have star qualities in the same areas that they did. He'd need a partner to reveal and showcase his other aspects to potential fans. He did another cursory scan of the room, passing over several other prospects—too young, too serious, too likely to actually fall in love with him. He kept returning to Matthew's presence.
Jiwoong again considered Matthew with an analytical eye.
Matthew was cute, and sweet. And straight. There was no danger in flirting with him.
He was perfect.
With his mind set on Matthew, Jiwoong found every opportunity available to pair up with him. He made sure he was close by whenever they needed to pick a partner.
When he noticed that Matthew was still alone for the partnered exercise activity of the day, he sidled up to the other boy innocently.
"Matthew," he said, "Do you have a partner yet? I can stretch with you."
"Oh, Jiwoon-ssi ," Matthew said, awkwardly stumbling over the honorific and butchering Jiiwoong's name in the process. "I... No, I don't have a partner yet." He was so short and small, Jiwoong noticed; the other boy had to look up to meet Jiwoong's eyes. It would be cute to pick him up. Or throw him around. He'd be easy to lift. For the camera, of course.
Jiwoong was struck by a sudden thought: the image of Matthew's thighs wrapped around Jiwoong's waist. Jiwoong's hands flexed as he considered Matthew's hips, then he cast the image from his head, opening his eyes wide to adopt an innocent expression.
"You can call me hyung," Jiwoong said earnestly.
"Jiwoon-hyung ," Matthew repeated, and Jiwoong didn't have the heart to correct him. It was gratifying in a sense, to see Matthew's mouth form the syllables of his name, all his attention on Jiwoong.
Jiwoong slung his arm around Matthew's surprisingly broad shoulders, casual possessiveness in the lines of his body. It would be easier if the others didn't approach them so that Jiwoong had time to work on Matthew's attachment to him. The Boys Planet producers were still fussing over the alignment of the exercise mats and the camera angles, so they had ample time to bond.
Unfortunately, it didn't work, as Matthew's inherent magnetic attraction and force of personality seemed to cancel out Jiwoong's attempt at intimidation.
"Matthew!" a cheerful, familiar voice called. Now, Matthew was caught up in casual banter with Hanbin and Zhang Hao of all people.
Jiwoong sighed internally, then slid his hand to Matthew's upper arm, gently massaging the muscle there. He glanced down slyly at Matthew, but it was as if he didn't even exist. Matthew was completely engrossed in his conversation with Hanbin, talking about potential future songs for the challenges.
It was irksome, seeing Matthew's face light up in a way Jiwoong hadn't seen before, because of this close friend. Feeling a flash of uncharacteristic irritation, Jiwoong looked up again to the other boys. Zhang Hao caught his eye, a knowing look on his face.
Ah, Zhang Hao was half too clever for his own good. Jiwoong smiled innocuously.
Zhang Hao could only benefit from Jiwoong's plan, right? Jiwoong raised an eyebrow and settled Matthew into the crook of his arm more snugly, pointedly shifting his attention to Hanbin.
Zhang Hao got the message apparently, tugging at Hanbin's arm as he reminded him gently that they had to re-apply CC cream before the cameras started recording.
"Ah, yes, hyung, you're right. See you later, Matthew," Hanbin said as he was whisked away to an area with a mirror, perhaps the bathroom.
Needless to say, Matthew looked bereft after their departure. He looked around nervously, as if once again aware of the cameras that would be capturing every move, every expression, every mistake for the world to watch and notice.
Jiwoong squeezed Matthew to get his attention and smiled brightly. Looking up, Matthew perceptibly took a breath at the sight. Jiwoong's ego purred, stroked. Not even Matthew was immune to his looks, it seemed. This would work out perfectly.
"Okay, Matthew, I'll stretch you first," Jiwoong chirped, taking Matthew's hand and pulling him down onto the mat for the exercises.
"Hyung," Matthew whined a little as he got pulled down onto the mat, Jiwoong unafraid of manhandling him into an easier position. "Be gentle, you're too strong."
Jiwoong flinched at the sound of Matthew's playful whimpering, his mind's eye racing involuntarily to replace the ugly gym mat with an actual bed. Matthew above him, below him. Wherever it felt best for Matthew, because Jiwoong would feel good anyway buried inside him. Jiwoong blinked hard, scrubbing that thought away with a metal scouring pad. Where did that come from, anyway? When did his mind start to toss itself so readily into the gutter?
Matthew canted his head curiously, and Jiwoong smiled apologetically before proceeding to stretch Matthew unmercifully, twisting his body in opposite directions and pushing him into near-splits until Matthew begged for mercy, which was sure to look cute for the camera.
Getting paired on the same team was the best thing to happen to Jiwoong. With ample opportunity to get to know Matthew, and be known in return, he could relax and stop seeking out Matthew, because Matthew was right there.
But apparently he was being too clingy. The production team gave him a firm suggestion to sit apart from him so that Jiwoong could be seen interacting with other teammates. It felt unfair—he had a plan. Even so. He could still talk to Matthew. Studying the lyrics for Love Killa with the others, and trying to assign parts, he went for the killing part for twofold reasons. To charm the audience, and—
"Matthew," he said. "Do I make you anxious?" The garbled English words made it out of his mouth as he bobbed back and forth in his seat like some sort of pigeon.
Matthew fell to the floor in laughter. It was embarrassing but worth it.
"Hyung, we can work on it," Matthew reassured him, earnest, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Jiwoong couldn't take his eyes off him, so bright and full of kind intent.
Jiwoong found that, besides torturing Matthew, he quite liked making him laugh, too. The way that Matthew's expression transformed into one of pure delight and amusement was fascinating. He wanted to make it happen again and again.
He looked forward to every morning and day they worked together in their little team. They practiced choreo, sang their parts, and joked around.
Then the pre-evaluation judging team asked them to demonstrate their performance, and raked them hard over the coals. Gyuvin was on the verge of tears. Matthew stared at the floor or at nothing. No one left the evaluation room with their self-esteem intact, and Jiwoong could tell that Matthew felt guiltiest of all. The failure of the team reflected badly on him as their leader.
For hours Matthew pored over the lyrics and dance choreography, drilling them endlessly on the moves. He just wanted to be good enough. He wanted to make sure his team succeeded. He seemed stressed, but wasn't asking for help. Jiwoong knew Matthew had a strong personality, stronger than he let on. He gave Matthew his distance, wishing to respect his space.
After their individual one-on-ones with the camera, Jiwoong was found by one of the female production staff, bowing and smiling in greeting. He greeted her in return, curious and a little apprehensive. Usually if they were going to approach a competitor directly, it was due to feedback from the viewing audience, whether it was positive or negative, to ensure ratings stayed high.
“Jiwoong-ssi, there’s something I’d like to propose,” she said, quietly.
He nodded, listening intently. Her expression seemed more… excited than apologetic. A good sign?
“I’d like to talk about Matthew-ssi’s interview. Between you and me, I believe there’s an opportunity to establish an arc, of sorts, for the both of you.” Her smile was small and almost sly, but it was the enthused sparkle in her eyes that drew him in.
He bowed his head to indicate he was listening.
“You see, Jiwoong-ssi, he expressed troubled thoughts with relation to his leadership position in the group. He would like someone to comfort him, and tell him that things are okay.” She looked meaningfully at him, and he nodded.
“I understand, and thank you. I’ll see what I can do.”
Jiwoong found his opportunity easily, when Matthew was working late at night. The others were taking an opportunity to snack and take a quick break. Jiwoong returned early to the training room, silently rejoicing to see Matthew studying on his own rather than socializing with the other trainees.
Even when Jiwoong drew him over to the corner to sit and relax, Matthew started bouncing ideas off him, but immediately shaking his head in weary frustration when they wouldn't fit into the choreography.
"It's hard, huh?" Jiwoong said.
"Yes," Matthew sighed. He shuffled the papers in his hands as though one of them would yield the answer to life.
Jiwoong kept his hands to himself, rather than reaching out and stopping Matthew's fidgeting. He did his best to empathize. "I've done a lot of stages in the past, after my first debut. I can tell you want to be a good leader. So don't think too much. You can do this."
Matthew nodded, looking up at Jiwoong with a thankful smile. Jiwoong then allowed himself to reach out and squeeze Matthew's smaller, lithe form.
Later, as the camera focused on him, Jiwoong stated, "Matthew swallows many words. But I know how he feels just by looking at him."
The nights were long and tiring, and as the day of the performance drew near, everyone grew more haggard and drawn. Everyone slept barely a few hours a night, getting up early to do choreography drills and nail down their routines. It was hell, but seeing the others, especially Matthew, give it their all pushed Jiwoong to do the same.
Matthew felt pressure to improve everyone in the group, working with them all individually to bring out their best points and work on their weaknesses. Though the pace at which they worked was frenetic, he seemed more stable, and Jiwoong savored the moments that Matthew would cast him a quick glance for reassurance.
And finally it was the day of the performance. Jiwoong was laser-focused, the cries and cheers of the crowd spurring him on. His muscle memory followed the music like a fish on a reel; instinct took over and the hours upon hours of practice bore fruit. He barely remembered it after, pure adrenaline and sleep deprivation rendering it all a blur.
Sitting together awaiting their team's score, Jiwoong kept glancing between the board and Matthew's face. Matthew was nervous, his insecurities and anxiety clearly getting the best of him. His thumb massaged hard circles into the back of Jiwoong's hand as he fidgeted, waiting for the ranking results.
Jiwoong glanced between their joined hands and Matthew's face. "Do I make you anxious?" he said, looking at Matthew with sincere eyes. Matthew looked at him, surprised, then laughed, smacking his hand into Jiwoong's thigh.
And then they won first place.
"See?" Jiwoong wanted to shake Matthew afterward, walking back to their rooms, sweat long-dried but everyone still in dire need of showers. "You're a great leader. Don't think so hard again; it comes so naturally to you."
Matthew's ears were red but he looked so pleased, so hopeful and bright. The shine to his eyes and the tired lines under them were both beautiful to Jiwoong. "Thank you, hyung."
Jiwoong just looked at Matthew. His heart was beating on his tongue, ready to leap out of his mouth.
Things turned around during the "Say Yes!" stage preparations, for the worse.
Matthew claimed a part that would have been easy, given his knowledge of English, but as the Masters re-examined the part distributions, they suggested that Matthew's capabilities were best suited to a different part—one he didn't necessarily want.
"Is this a prank?" Matthew said, disbelievingly, as the five members of their team sat in the practice room.
Jiwoong was loath to do this, but he had to think of what was best for the team. He had to save his own neck, too—a subpar performance, especially after Love Killa's success, could mean the death of his career. Focused on these things, as the eldest in the group, he firmly put Matthew in his place, despite the despair and betrayal he could see in the other boy's expression.
"Matthew, you need to consider the other members of your team. I don't think now is the time to do what you want. Someone who fits the part should do the part." His voice held no tremor, but he was worried that he would not be able to say the same for his resolve.
Matthew was clearly shattered. But they had to do this. They had to.
Jiwoong was overly conscious of how Matthew didn't make eye contact with him or the other members the remainder of practice after switching the parts. It was too stark a difference from when they were joking around together during the last team mission.
Hanbin was clearly worried too, but it had been Jiwoong to say those hurtful words. He had to fix this.
After dinner, Jiwoong slipped into Matthew's room, conscious of the camera all the while.
He swallowed and sat down on the bed nearest to Matthew's bed.
"Matthew," he started.
The bed covers shifted slightly as Matthew sat up, his features dim in the shadows. "Hm?" his soft voice murmured politely.
"Are you okay?" Jiwoong ventured to ask.
Matthew looked down and didn't meet his gaze, staying silent.
"You're not okay, are you?" Jiwoong answered for him. Why was his heart squeezing so tightly? The words he had so carefully planned were falling out of his mouth like clumsy stones. "I've been thinking all day about whether I should talk to you or not. But I owe you an apology anyway. I'm sorry, especially for changing parts after everything had been assigned."
"I understand," Matthew said, his voice hoarse. "You changed things around because it would make for a better performance. It was better for the team, and I was being selfish."
"Seok Matthew," Jiwoong murmured, reaching out to hold Matthew. He wished he could undo the decision in this moment, just so Matthew could be happy. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he said quietly. He hugged Matthew through the sheets, all bundled and tangled around the boy in his sadness and despair. Matthew felt very small, his sunshine brightness eroded to this dimness, and it cracked Jiwoong's heart apart a little more.
Jiwoong had to make it up to him somehow. Matthew was clearly not over it, as he seemed to avoid Jiwoong.
"Matthew," he said, jogging to catch up with the other boy after practice. Matthew looked up at him inquisitively. Jiwoong said, "I have a surprise for you. Can we meet up tonight?" He smiled expectantly.
Hours later, Jiwoong found himself in the storage room. It was cold, but big. Jiwoong had spread out a few blankets on the floor. A dim light bulb overhead cast a yellow glow over everything. It was at least less
The door creaked open, and Jiwoong stiffened. But to his relief, Matthew slipped inside.
"Jiwoon-hyung?" he asked, his voice a welcome serenade to Jiwoong's ears.
"Matthew! Come join hyung on the blanket." He waved the other boy over. "Let hyung give you a massage; you've been working so hard." Matthew's eyebrows rose in understanding, and he gave a small nod, settling onto the blanket obediently, his back to Jiwoong.
His shoulders were tense as Jiwoong passed his hands over them, getting a feel for how tight the muscles were through the thin material of his sleep shirt.
"Remove this?" Jiwoong asked. It wouldn't do to mess up his shirt with oil.
Matthew removed it, uncertainty and trust in the motions; in the light, Jiwoong caught the faint redness of embarrassment striking the tips of his ears.
"Good, good," Jiwoong said, swallowing a little at the lean muscles that he could see flexing along Matthew's back. He took some of the massage oil from the bottle at his side and started warming it in his palms. "This'll feel good, okay?" he said soothingly. Matthew seemed to tense up more instead.
Deciding to just go for it, Jiwoong started at the shoulders, his large palms spreading over the breadth of Matthew's nape, then sweeping out to the shoulders and upper arms. His thumbs and fingers worked into the small but stubborn knots he found there; predictable, given their rigorous practice schedule and constant stress levels from competition. Jiwoong probably had knots in the same places.
And then he heard it: a little moan from Matthew.
He almost stopped; his movements stuttered slightly before restarting. But the pleasure he could hear in the sound caused a jolt of interest at the base of his stomach.
Jiwoong swallowed, his lips pressing together as he considered his options. He could pretend he didn't hear that. Yes, that was probably for the best, to avoid embarrassment on both their parts.
"Feels good?" he asked, as a way to fill the silence.
"Yeah," Matthew said, and the sound of his voice was pure sex, husky and lower than the other boy's usual register.
Jiwoong shut his eyes, centering himself, and said, "Hey, why don't you lie down on your front? It's getting a bit hard to do your lower back in this position.
Matthew nodded, and lay down on the blanket, his head pillowed on his arms. Jiwoong fussed at this, then tugged his arms out to lie down by his sides instead, putting a bunched up blanket under Matthew's cheek. Jiwoong's thumbs slowly made repetitive, small circles down the sides of Matthew's spine, adding more warm oil once to help ease the slide of his palms over Matthew's skin.
His back was starting to hurt, so he straddled Matthew's legs and sat down a little on Matthew's butt. Matthew jumped a little, but Jiwoong immediately went to work on the muscles surrounding his shoulder blades, and the other boy settled down.
Matthew's breathing was growing a bit labored, along with Jiwoong's. Massage was hard work. He could feel a bit of sweat beading at his temples, but he could ignore it in favor of Matthew's comfort.
"Hey, Jiwoon-hyung," Matthew said, his voice a bit breathy, still husky. "I think I'm good. We can stop?"
"Why?" Jiwoong asked. He hadn't even gotten to the legs yet. But he guessed that would involve Matthew taking off his pants, and maybe he wasn't that comfortable yet.
Matthew mumbled something, trying to turn over to end the massage. Jiwoong raised his hips to allow Matthew to turn over, but at the last moment, sat down again on Matthew's hips.
"Ngh, hyung!" Matthew said, his expression rather more horrified than Jiwoong expected.
Jiwoong realized why. He could feel Matthew's arousal under his thigh. He wasn't embarrassed, but he also didn't know what to do. Some corner of his mind noted that this was a classic BL situation. He could make use of this, and tie himself closer to Matthew than anyone else. He could, but was that the only reason?
But beneath his gaze, Matthew looked like a small, frightened creature, about to bolt. As if Jiwoong were threatening him with a cage. So Jiwoong swallowed and removed himself from Matthew's person, maintaining eye contact the whole while.
"I... Feel free to ask again anytime for a massage," Jiwoong said, reaching out and ruffling Matthew's hair even though he could feel his heartbeat in his mouth. Matthew nodded shakily and left.
Jiwoong sat there for a while, amid the blankets and storage closet paraphernalia, thinking.
That night, Jiwoong settled into bed, mind still racing from the implications of what had transpired between them. His good intentions—or at least the intentions to salvage their on-air friendship—seemed to have damaged things between them, perhaps irrevocably.
After all, one didn't voluntarily sit on the hard-on of another straight male. Unless the goal was awkward tension.
Jiwoong had dealt with it countless times before, on set as an actor for his BL shows, but this was a wholly different context. It was... not good for his future on Boys Planet.
He took a deep breath, and buried himself under the thin coverlet of his bed. This was what he had wanted for years. He knew his propensity for obsession was like a black hole, pulling in everything he wanted—and everything he did not want to admit to wanting. Jiwoong's desire felt like a destructive one, mainly to himself.
Jiwoong remembered his first time around, debuting with INX. He remembered the grueling practices, the stress over whether they would release a new song. He couldn't stop singing, couldn't stop practicing, keeping hope alive—new releases were out of his control. The one thing he had power over was himself. He practiced until he collapsed. He sang until he lost his voice from overuse. It didn't help, in the end. Their group disbanded.
Two more failed tries with bands that never debuted, and each time he was left in another subset of limbo again.
Maybe this was it for him this time, too.
But maybe it didn't have to be. The next morning, Matthew was acting like everything was normal. If Jiwoong caught his eye and offered something silly to bounce off, Matthew was still ready to banter back. In the practice room, Matthew still let him approach and touch him. Once, Matthew came up behind him and started massaging his shoulders. Jiwoong couldn't help but glance at the cameras self-consciously, hoping his fidgeting wasn't too obvious.
The show went on, and Jiwoong acted his part until he wasn't sure anything had happened between them in the first place. Perhaps only he had felt the odd tension in the storage room. The only proof he had that it even happened was the small, half-empty bottle of oil in his suitcase.
Sad puppy eyes got him where he wanted to be: right next to Matthew for the week's rankings.
He gripped at Matthew's hand, squeezing it every so often as his nervousness spiked. Matthew was worse off, slouching in his seat and looking worried.
"Do I make you anxious?" Jiwoong whispered hopefully. With a snort of laughter and a smack to his thigh, Matthew's face relaxed a bit. Jiwoong sat back, pleased. Mission accomplished.
That night was a free night. A fair number of the boys were interested in going out, but Jiwoong was planning on staying in, too worn out from the events of the day. Ah, to be youthful and full of energy again. But then:
"Jiwoong-hyung, you want to go out for meat?" Hanbin asked. Behind him, both Zhang Hao and Matthew hovered behind, practically vibrating with anticipation.
"Hm?" Jiwoong said. "Who's paying?" Hanbin and Zhang Hao glanced at each other and then turned back to him with innocent smiles. Matthew looked a bit nervous about being a part of all this.
"Please, hyung, we want to celebrate." Hanbin and Zhang Hao looked at him with big eyes.
"Please, Jiwoon-hyung." Jiwoong's heart gave a sudden lurch at the unexpected plea. He looked at Matthew. This was a mistake; his bright eyes were filled with nervous want and hope—and Jiwoong's apparently gutter-minded train of thoughts had no issue translating it to a different context.
Jiwoong sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "Don't... look at me with those eyes," he muttered. Damn Hanbin and Zhang Hao—he knew they had schemed together to put Matthew up to this.
Zhang Hao clapped, clearly recognizing their victory. "Okay, let's go!" he insisted, before Jiwoong could change his mind.
Jiwoong didn't know who had slipped soju onto their barbecue table, but now all four of them were drunk—and way too drunk to be going back to the dorms without getting in deep trouble. Jiwoong sucked in a deep breath at the verbal lashing he imagined would come from the Masters and production team if they found out.
Matthew had thrown up in the bathroom and was now clinging like a koala to Hanbin. Zhang Hao had the bright idea to reserve a hotel room nearby to sleep things off. He swore up and down that their alarm would go off and wake them up in time for morning roll call at the dorms.
A two-room suite wasn't all that expensive, especially for their area, and sharing a bed with Matthew since Hanbin and Zhang Hao paired up was easier than expected. They brushed their teeth, stayed on their respective sides of the mattress, and were both too inebriated to be embarrassed about it at all.
The morning after was a different story.
As Jiwoong roused to wakefulness, a corner of his mind noted that there was a long line of warmth along his left side. He also noted that he couldn't lift the arm on his left side.
He took a slow breath in and opened his eyes. A slip of paper was stuck to his forehead.
Well. A little disrespectful, especially since he had paid the bill last night, even if Zhang Hao had offered to split.
With his free hand, he unstuck the hotel notepad paper from his head and read it.
In quickly scrawled handwriting: "We went back early! We still left the alarm for you two since you were sleeping well. See you later! Thanks for the meat!"
He blinked slowly, still parsing the words in the weak, early morning light. Then he finally looked to his warmer side, his eyes falling on the slumbering form of Matthew, his face looking rather angelic in the midst of sleep. Matthew was undeniably cute, and in a way that felt unique and fresh to Jiwoong. Seeing him sleep so peacefully, in a real bed, felt like a privilege.
Giving in to impulse, Jiwoong reached out and touched Matthew's cheek to test how soft it was, holding his breath in case the other boy woke up. Matthew did not stir at all.
Jiwoong exhaled, then gently pressed his nose into the top of Matthew's head, inhaling the scent of hotel shampoo. Cuddling was okay, right? Jiwoong closed his eyes. The fact that he had to ask himself that was troubling. He didn't understand why he was having so many insane thoughts lately, centered on Seok Matthew.
Jiwoong spread his fingers wide over Matthew's heart, over his shirt. Matthew was so small, but so strong; Jiwoong's fingers were long enough to brush his collarbone, but it felt like lean muscle beneath. Matthew didn't eat enough—none of them did, during the competition.
"Mm?" Matthew muttered, hunching his shoulders and stretching one arm over his head. "Jiwoon-hyung?" He peered up, bleary-eyed, voice raspy.
"Matthew," Jiwoong said, voice also still hoarse from sleep. He continued to stare at him, uninterested in looking away. The stillness of the early hours, with just them alone in the room, made it feel permissible.
"Hyung, is something wrong? Are you okay?" Matthew asked, his concern too kind for Jiwoong to deserve.
"Just a headache," Jiwoong lied.
Matthew hummed in sympathy. Then, he reached up and carded his fingers through Jiwoong's hair, soft and unexpected. Jiwoong closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of it. Matthew's small hand felt like a massage against his scalp.
Then, he felt soft pressure against his lips.
Matthew was kissing him. Immediately, Jiwoong surrendered to the feel of Matthew's soft lips moving over his, letting the other boy guide the depth and progression of the kiss. Warmth, heat, the gentle flick of Matthew's tongue teasing at the seam of his mouth were filling his senses. Kissing another boy came easily to Jiwoong, purely from the experience he had, but the fact that it was Matthew made his heart race in his chest.
His eyes slitted open, curious about Matthew's expression when he kissed. He blinked, surprised that Matthew's eyes were already open. Matthew snorted in laughter, cutting off the kiss, to Jiwoong's brief dismay. "Sorry, you're just so pretty," Matthew muttered, before diving in again and aggressively nipping at Jiwoong's bottom lip. A startled moan fell out of Jiwoong's mouth; he definitely wasn't used to that from girls. But Jiwoong did his best to give as good as he got. Matthew's closeness; kissing him in a bed; his lean form pressed against Jiwoong, radiating warmth—all of it combined to create a sensual experience that robbed Jiwoong of his breath and sense of anything else in the world.
He was finally forced to pull away to take a breath, feeling a bit out of his depth. Matthew was... energetic. And the morning wood that was pressing into his thigh—mirroring his own—certainly wasn't a figment of his imagination this time either.
Jiwoong blinked wonderingly. "This... isn't a dream," he finally asked aloud, wanting to confirm it.
"No, it's not," Matthew said, his eyes searching Jiwoong's face for any nonverbal answer, perhaps looking for any sign of disgust. The quiet fear and hope in his bright gaze were endearing.
Jiwoong reached out and kissed him again.
The knowing looks Hanbin and Zhang Hao shot them when they finally returned to the dorms, faces clean and clothes rumpled from sleeping in them, made Matthew blush beet-red while Jiwoong inspected the ceiling lights for dust.
All he had was the faint memory of pressure from a good luck kiss, stolen in the storage room before the final announcements, to comfort him now. If Matthew believed Jiwoong could make it, Jiwoong did, too. To Jiwoong, Matthew was inevitable as a member of the new group. He had far too much charm, talent, and cuteness wrapped up in a single person.
This may have been Jiwoong's last chance to debut, but it was also his last chance to stay near Matthew. The steady roar of the crowd's cheers made it feel like there was water in his ears. He kept his hands neatly folded before him, trying to exude calm and maturity. He had to. He could feel Matthew's concerned eyes on him; if Jiwoong appeared nervous, Matthew might, too. Jiwoong had to stay calm.
He meditated as he and the others waited for the final rankings, trying to keep his breaths deep and even instead of hyperventilating like he was tempted to do.
He stared unseeingly at the crowd as the MC gave his opening speech. He wanted so badly to succeed. He was so tired of failing. He wanted to continue with Matthew. If he failed, then the new beginnings of whatever they had would fade away, along with Jiwoong's dreams of being an idol.
"Kim Jiwoong!"
He blinked, trying not to double-take so obviously with all the cameras on him. His name had been called first. Joy, so powerful it felt like anguish, nearly tore him apart.
He turned to face his companions, his face turned away from the camera lenses to hide his expression. His eyes locked with Matthew's, even though others came to embrace and congratulate him.
This was it.
"Matthew," he mouthed.
Matthew smiled, gripping his hand in a firm, tender grip. "See?" he mouthed back.
He had made it.
That night, Matthew invited Jiwoong to stay with him. The place he and his family were staying at was so close, and they needed to celebrate with Hanbin and Zhang Hao.
That night, Jiwoong clutched at the wrinkled sleep shirt of the boy in his arms, kissing him and thinking of grasping the heat of a falling star—not being burned, but absorbing its light—and becoming a star as well.