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The thing is, this wasn’t supposed to happen.
Heeseung had already crushed every fragile thread of hope he’d been clinging to for the past three years.
There was one truth he’d made peace with: Sunoo wasn’t his anymore. He was Jay’s. They’d been together for six months — and dancing around each other for even longer.
And then they broke up.
And as much as Heeseung hates himself for it, he feels the almost-dead flame in his chest flare to life the second he hears the news.
Because hope? Hope is a dangerous thing.
Especially when Sunoo starts looking at him again.
-
It’s almost noon when Heeseung’s phone pings with a message in the group chat.
He’s been at the recording studio since 7 a.m. because he couldn’t sleep. The thoughts spinning in his head had turned into lyrics, and the melody he’s been working on finally started making sense.
He takes off his headphones, checks the notification, and then reads the message again. And again.
His heart starts pounding in his chest, breath catching from the surprise. Without thinking, he takes a screenshot and sends it to Jake.
Heeseung: Did you see this?
His hands are shaking as he waits for a reply. The typing dots appear immediately.
Jake: Yeah dude, although we all knew.
We all knew.
They all knew.
Everyone knew that Sunoo and Jay broke up.
Except him.
The thing is—how could he have known?
He’d been working so hard to push their relationship out of his mind. Avoiding the stolen glances, the hand-holding, the kisses behind closed doors at music award shows. He’d trained himself to not look. To not see .
His phone buzzes again.
Jake: Did you like... not know?
Then it hits him. The message Jay had sent in the group chat. So casual, so short, just:
Jay: So Sunoo and I broke up. It’s all good.
Like it was nothing. Like those nine words didn’t flip Heeseung’s whole world upside down.
And now he sees it for what it is.
That message wasn’t for them .
It was for him .
Because he’s the only one who didn’t already know. Because he was so busy pretending he didn’t care that he missed the shift—missed everything. The unraveling.
Jay going out more. Sunoo staying in. Jungwon sticking to Sunoo like glue at the dorm. Jake and Sunghoon not mocking Jay’s behavior as much when they filmed together.
Sunoo’s hollow cheeks. His forced laugh.
How could he not have seen it?
A part of him—raw and reckless, the same part that once fell headfirst for Sunoo at eighteen—wants to drop everything and run. To find him. To tell him he loves him, that he’s still here, that he’s always been here, waiting.
But the other part—the one he’s been carefully building ever since Sunoo got together with Jay—tells him to stop. To breathe. To not ruin this . Not if he wants Sunoo to even speak to him again.
Still… how long has it been? If everyone knew, why did Jay send the message now?
Was it for him?
To let him know it’s okay now?
But what was okay? For him to make a move on Sunoo?
Was Jay giving him the go ahead? Like Heeseung did all those months ago?
Heeseung lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his hands down his face. Just as he’s about to let out another groan, there’s a knock on the recording room door.
“It’s Jake, man,” comes the muffled voice. “Open up.”
-
It’s been eerily quiet between them.
Jake hasn’t said much since he came into the studio, just sat on the floor beside Heeseung, letting the silence settle thick between them. Heeseung knows Jake wants to ask how he’s doing—he can feel the question hanging in the air—but his own mind is a mess of unfinished thoughts and unanswered questions, to make room for it.
So instead, he breaks the silence first.
“How long?”
The words fall out of him, quiet and hoarse. His knees drawn up to his chest, head bowed, eyes fixed on the scuffed toes of his sneakers. He doesn’t dare look up. He knows he’ll see it—pity written all over Jake’s face.
Jake hesitates before answering. “About three weeks.”
Heeseung just nods.
Jake shifts beside him, like he’s trying to figure out how to say something without setting off a landmine. “Look, hyung… I think we all assumed you knew. But then—” he pauses “—when you asked Jungwon if Sunoo and Jay were going away for their six-month anniversary... that’s when we realized you actually didn’t.”
Heeseung lets out a breathy, humorless laugh. “Of course I didn’t know,” he says, more to himself than anyone else. “There was no way to tell. They didn’t fight. They didn’t scream or storm out. There was no—” he gestures vaguely, helplessly “—hating or avoiding each other”
Then, more quietly, like the question’s been haunting him:
“How was I supposed to know?”
Jake sighs, his tone gentle but firm. “Because not all breakups are loud. Not all love ends in wreckage.” He leans forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. “Sunoo and Jay were friends before anything happened between them. They’re still friends now. They just actually talked things out. Like adults.”
Heeseung flinches slightly at that—at the pointed way Jake says it.
And Jake, to his credit, doesn’t shy away from it. “They didn’t bottle everything up and wait for it to explode. They didn’t pretend they were fine until it was too late.”
That one lands right in Heeseung’s chest. Sharp and accurate.
“It’s not fair,” he mumbles, voice thick. “I was moving on. I was making peace with it—with Sunoo not being mine anymore.”
Jake’s voice softens. “Maybe you were. But maybe… some part of you was still holding your breath.”
Heeseung turns to look at him finally, eyes glassy. “It’s not like I wanted to.”
“I know,” Jake says. “But you never stopped hoping, did you?”
Heeseung doesn't answer. He doesn’t have to.
Silence settles between them again, heavier this time. Jake watches him carefully, then adds, “Jay didn’t send that message just to let us know. He sent it so you would know. Because he figured Sunoo wouldn’t say it first. Not to you.”
“Why?”
Jake shrugs. “Maybe because he still cares. Maybe because he was trying to do right by both of you.”
Heeseung leans back against the wall, eyes closing for a second. “It would’ve been easier if they hated each other. If I had someone to be mad at.”
“Yeah,” Jake says. “But you don’t. So now what?”
Heeseung opens his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Now… I have no idea.”
-
The first time Heeseung sees Sunoo after finding out about the breakup is later that same night.
He’s just come back from the studio, exhausted in every possible way, and stops dead in his tracks when he sees the glow of the television flickering from the living room. Sunoo’s curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath him, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands.
The drama playing is one Heeseung knows by heart—not because he ever really watched it, but because Sunoo did. It’s his comfort show. The one he always puts on when his head gets too loud, when his heart needs something soft and familiar. He once told Heeseung it was like “listening to a lullaby with pictures.”
Heeseung’s chest tightens.
He should keep walking. He should go straight to his room, put on headphones, bury himself in the melody he was working on earlier.
But instead, he stands there—watching. Feeling that all-too-familiar pull. The same pull that’s been dragging him toward Sunoo since they were trainees, since Sunoo’s laugh cracked through a bad day like sunlight through thick clouds.
He remembers Jake’s words from earlier like they’re still echoing in the walls of the studio:
“Jay didn’t send that message just to let us know. He sent it so you would know. Because he figured Sunoo wouldn’t say it first. Not to you.”
Heeseung swallows hard.
Why?
Why wouldn’t Sunoo tell him?
Was he not worth telling?
Was Sunoo mad at him?
Had he done something?
… Was he the reason they broke up?
He hates how that last thought sparks the tiniest, sickest flicker of hope in his chest.
It shouldn’t. It’s wrong —a selfish, awful thing to even consider. But still, it glows inside him like a faulty lightbulb he doesn’t know how to turn off.
And before he can stop himself, before he even realizes he’s moved, he’s standing in front of the couch—between Sunoo and the screen.
Sunoo looks up, surprised, but not startled. There’s something calm in his expression. Something like… expectation.
Like he knew this was coming.
Heeseung’s voice is low, rough. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Sunoo’s lips part, just barely. “Hyung—”
“Was I not important enough?” Heeseung’s fists clench at his sides. “Everyone knew, Sunoo. Everyone. But me.”
Sunoo sits up straighter, brows furrowing. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what ?” Heeseung’s voice rises. “Don’t act like I didn’t have a right to know? Like I was some stranger in the dorms, not—”
“Don’t make this about you.” Sunoo cuts him off, eyes sharp now. “God. I remembered you being self-centered, but this? This is another level.”
Heeseung reels back like he’s been slapped. “I’m not—”
“Did it even cross your mind,” Sunoo says, standing now, voice shaking but steady, “to ask how Jay is doing? Your oldest friend?”
Heeseung opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Yeah,” Sunoo huffs, shaking his head. “Of course not. Because you only showed up the second you thought you might get something out of it.”
“That’s not fair—”
“Isn’t it?” Sunoo snaps. “You didn’t care when we got together. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t even try to stay in my life as anything other than a blurry shadow in the background. And now suddenly you want—what, closure?”
Heeseung looks at him, stunned.
“This wasn’t your heartbreak, Heeseung. It was mine. It was Jay’s. And I didn’t tell you because…” Sunoo’s voice cracks, and he looks away, blinking fast. “…because I knew you’d do this. You’d make it about you.”
Silence.
Sunoo wipes quickly at his eye, like he’s angry with himself for even letting that slip.
“I’m tired, hyung. I’m so tired.”
Heeseung steps forward, slower now, something breaking quietly in his chest. “I just… I didn’t know. I didn’t know you were hurting. I thought you were happy.”
“Well,” Sunoo whispers, looking up at him, “Maybe that’s because you stopped really looking a long time ago.”
And with that, he walks past Heeseung and disappears down the hall, leaving Heeseung standing there—still, hollowed, with nothing but the soft lullaby of the drama playing quietly behind him.
-
The next morning, they’re all crammed into the kitchen eating breakfast—something that hasn’t happened in a long time. Different schedules, solo projects, late nights, early flights… it just hasn’t been possible.
But today, somehow, they’re all here.
Heeseung sits at the end of the table, silently chewing on toast that tastes more like guilt than bread. Around him, the noise of the others fills the room—normal, casual, easy.
Niki, Sunghoon, and Jake are mid-discussion about gym hours, voices overlapping as they argue about whether 10 a.m. is too early.
Across from him, Jungwon and Sunoo are hunched over a phone, watching something with sleepy grins. Jungwon lets out a soft laugh. Sunoo’s shoulder presses lightly into his.
Heeseung doesn’t look directly, but he sees it. Feels it.
And he feels him , too—Jay’s gaze. Heavy, steady, not demanding… just present .
Heeseung doesn’t dare look up.
Jay’s always been the mature one between them. In their trainee days, when Heeseung would stew and spiral after a bad review, Jay would quietly take the criticism and show up better at the next evaluation—calm, focused, sure. He was the one everyone confided in, even though he wasn’t the oldest. He carried things without letting them break him.
And now?
Now Heeseung knows Jay wants to talk. He can feel the tension humming between them like static. But what is he supposed to say?
“I’m happy you two broke up. I’ve always loved Sunoo, and I want to be with him.”
Or worse:
“I’m sorry I stopped talking to you. I’m sorry I pulled away. But every time I looked at you, all I could think about was what I lost. What I could’ve had if I hadn’t been such a coward.”
Neither of those things are fair.
Not to Jay.
Not to him.
Not to anyone.
So he stays quiet, focusing on his toast like it might give him answers. Like chewing long enough might erase the ache in his chest.
The laughter bubbles around him, the smell of eggs and coffee and something slightly burnt hanging in the air. It’s warm in the kitchen. Familiar. Safe, in that fragile way things are when everyone is pretending nothing’s wrong.
But Heeseung’s skin feels tight. His thoughts, louder than the conversation.
He glances up—just for a second—and meets Jay’s eyes.
Jay doesn’t look angry. Just… tired.
Heeseung looks away immediately, guilt flooding his gut like cement.
God, I hate myself, he thinks.
And he means it.
-
The dorm is mostly quiet now. Someone left a light on in the hallway, a soft orange glow bleeding into the living room where Heeseung finds Jay, sitting on the couch, nursing a lukewarm mug of tea.
Heeseung hesitates in the doorway. His heart's been pounding since breakfast.
Jay doesn’t look up right away. But he knows he’s there.
“I figured you'd come,” Jay says softly, voice almost lost to the hum of the fridge and the distant sound of traffic through the window.
Heeseung swallows. Moves to sit at the far end of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at his hands.
"Why did you two break up?"
Jay doesn’t answer immediately. He shifts the mug between his palms, gaze distant.
“You know he still keeps the ring?” he says eventually.
Heeseung blinks. “What?”
“The one you gave him. Before debut. The beaded one. With the little flower.”
Heeseung breath catches. How could he forget? He has the matching tucked away in the corner of his bedside table, underneath some old sheet music and a notebook that he hasn’t touched in forever, where the lyrics are about hazel eyes and soft smiles, too deep and personal for the world to see.
“How do you even know that?” Heeseung asks, voice thin.
Jay shrugs. “I found it one night. It was there in a drawer, along with a keychain and a purple sweater. A few letters.”
Heeseung can feel the panic rising. “Jay-”
“I didn’t read them. But I’m not dumb, hyung.”
Heeseung looks down. His throat is tight. “What are you trying to say?”
Jay finally turns to him, eyes steady. Not accusing. Not even sad. Just… real.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you,” he says. “But you’re both my friends. And I care about you.”
Heeseung doesn’t speak. Can’t.
Jay continues. “Yes, I loved Sunoo. And I know he loved me. We tried. We were good… but we were never it . Not really.”
The words settle like dust.
“What you have with him,” Jay says quietly, “it’s different. Deeper. It always has been. Even when you didn’t say anything.”
Heeseung leans back, staring at the ceiling like it might stop the sting in his eyes.
“I didn’t mean for it to get this messy.”
Jay gives him a faint, almost fond smile. “It’s always messy. That’s the point. But if there’s even the smallest chance you can be honest about how you feel… with him, with yourself—don’t waste it.”
Silence stretches between them. Not heavy. Just full.
“Thanks,” Heeseung says at last, barely audible.
Jay gets up, setting his mug down. He pauses as he walks past, clapping a hand gently on Heeseung’s shoulder.
“Don’t wait too long, hyung. He’s still got the ring, but that doesn’t mean he’ll keep waiting.”
And then he’s gone, leaving Heeseung alone with the glow of the hallway light and the quiet pulse of something like hope blooming in his chest.
-
It’s been exactly a month and three weeks since Sunoo and Jay broke up.
A month since Heeseung found out Sunoo had kept all the little things he gave him when they were young and in love.
Five days since the last time they spoke — really spoke.
Lately, it’s all been surface-level: hello’s, half-smiles, borrowed chargers, and “did you eat?”s.
Nothing real.
Nothing that sticks.
Nothing close to what Heeseung actually wants to say.
I know you kept the ring. I kept mine too.
I wear it.
And I’ve written twenty more letters I’ll never send, filled with lyrics about your laugh and your eyes and that one dimple you hate but I love.
I ’m so in love with you it physically hurts.
But he hasn’t followed Jay’s advice.
Because what if Sunoo moves on — again?
What if he already has?
What if this time, Heeseung doesn’t get another shot?
Every time he opens his mouth, the words come out all wrong. They argue instead of mend. Drift instead of reconnect.
-
Heeseung is alone, sipping water, the hum of the fridge the only sound.
Sunoo walks in, humming the chorus of a new girl group song, only to stop short when he sees Heeseung.
They both freeze.
“…Hi,” Sunoo says.
“Hi,” Heeseung echoes, voice barely above a whisper.
A beat. Then another.
Heeseung swears Sunoo is about to say something —
But the moment shatters when Ni-ki and Jungwon burst into the kitchen, loud and laughing… until they notice the tension. They fall quiet.
Sunoo clears his throat. “I’ll come back later,” he mumbles, already halfway out the door.
Heeseung sees the look the maknaes give him.
Do something.
-
Heeseung knocks, trying not to let his hand shake.
“…Sunoo? Can we talk?”
A pause. Then the door opens.
Sunoo looks at him, arms crossed. “About what?”
Heeseung swallows. “Why do you make this so hard?”
Sunoo blinks. “ Me? ”
“Yes, you!” His voice cracks. “You know how I feel. How I’ve felt all these years. You know I never got over you—”
“Oh, forgive me if I don’t believe that,” Sunoo snaps. “You’ve been sleeping around, Heeseung. You only talk to me when it feels like I’m slipping away.”
“What did you want me to do? Pine forever?” Heeseung’s voice rises. “I am ! And yeah, maybe I hooked up with other people, but it never made the feelings go away—only made them worse. I kept hoping—praying—that maybe it was you.”
“Then why did you run, huh?” Sunoo steps closer. “Why were you such a fucking coward ?”
“I don’t know,” Heeseung breathes. “I just—I didn’t know how to stay .”
The anger burns out slowly, leaving something heavier in its place.
Sunoo lets out a bitter laugh. “Why do we always do this?”
Heeseung slumps onto the bed beside him. “I don’t know.”
“I hated you,” Sunoo says, voice quiet now. “For leaving. For treating me like I didn’t matter.”
“I know.”
“And I still hate you.” A pause. “But I hate how much I love you even more.”
Heeseung looks up.
That’s the second time Sunoo’s said it out loud. The first was three years ago — whispered in the dark between kisses, both of them unsure and trembling, but full of hope.
Sunoo doesn’t stop.
“It’s been three years, and you’re still stuck in my head. You ignored me, avoided me, and still… I loved you.”
Heeseung closes his eyes. “I couldn’t face you after what I did. I didn’t deserve to.”
“I deserved a fucking explanation. And I only got one after I started dating Jay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve always been selfish, hyung.”
“I know.”
A beat.
“I don’t know if I can go through this again,” Sunoo admits, the truth naked in his voice. “You broke me.”
Heeseung turns toward him. “I’ll change.”
Sunoo scoffs. “Yeah. Heard that one before.”
Heeseung reaches out, cupping Sunoo’s face gently — like he’s something delicate. Like he’s something sacred. “Sunoo, I love you so much it physically hurts me not being able to call you mine.”
Sunoo doesn’t pull away.
“I was wrong,” Heeseung whispers. “And a coward. I won’t blame it on being young or scared. I should’ve fought for you. I didn’t. But I’m fighting now. I swear.”
His thumb brushes against Sunoo’s cheek.
“I want to hold your hand. I want to write songs about your laugh and kiss you in the morning and annoy you until you smile. I want all of it. I want you. ”
Sunoo’s eyes are glassy, unreadable.
“Please,” Heeseung says, voice cracking. “Let me try again.”
A pause that stretches into eternity.
Then—
Sunoo whispers, “I can’t promise anything.”
“I’m not asking for a promise,” Heeseung says. “Just a chance.”
Another pause.
Then Sunoo leans forward. And presses his forehead against Heeseung’s.
And that’s enough.
For now.