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The bass pulsed through the floor, up Sehun’s legs, and into the hollow of his chest, but none of it could distract him from the way Junmyeon was pretending he didn’t exist.
It had been months.
Months of late-night texts that spiraled into voice notes. Inside jokes spun like thread between them. Sehun sent photos of the sunrise after long flights, knowing Junmyeon would be the only one awake to see them.
Months of talking. Just talking.
And now, at Baekhyun’s birthday party, Junmyeon was across the room with his head thrown back in laughter, drink in hand, surrounded by people he didn’t even like. People who hadn’t stayed up with him talking about fear, fame, and the ache of growing older under a spotlight.
Sehun leaned back against the wall, drink untouched. Some pastel-colored cocktail Baekhyun had shoved into his hand. He hadn’t even tasted it. He could only taste his own frustration, fizzing like soda at the back of his throat.
This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.
He hadn't dressed in all black for drama, but Junmyeon had once said he looked good that way, “like a villain in a music video.” Sehun wore it anyway. A quiet rebellion against Junmyeon's radio silence.
They hadn’t spoken since they arrived. Not even a glance.
He watched as Junmyeon's fingers brushed a girl’s arm.
His smile faltered.Was this all talk?
Earlier that week, Junmyeon had sent a voice note.
“I had a dream about us,” he’d said, voice low and tired.
“We were on a rooftop somewhere. It was snowing. You told me something, but I couldn’t hear it. You were smiling.”
Sehun hadn’t known what to say. He’d played it ten times. Then twenty. Then deleted it. Not because it didn’t mean something, but because it meant too much.
The song playing now was glittery and shallow, perfect for the crowd. But in Sehun’s head, it wasn’t this, it was Charli’s “Talk Talk” remix from earlier in the car.
Why don't you talk, talk, talk, talk, talk to me?
He pushed off the wall and started walking. His boots hit the floor like punctuation. When Junmyeon finally noticed him approaching, his smile didn’t falter, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Sehun,” Junmyeon said, almost surprised. “You made it.”
Sehun tilted his head.
“Yeah. I’ve been here. You’ve just been busy.”
Junmyeon looked down, lips pressed together. “You know how these things are.”
“No, I don’t think I do,”
Sehun said. His voice was cool, calm, too calm. “Because I thought we talked. I thought we didn’t need to play these games.”
Junmyeon looked around, then gently grabbed Sehun’s wrist.
“Let’s not do this here.”
They ended up on the balcony, far enough from the thudding music to pretend the city below was whispering secrets instead.
“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon said. “I just—I didn’t know how to be around you tonight.”
“That’s funny,” Sehun replied bitterly. “Because you seemed fine being around everyone else.”
Suho leaned on the railing, his breath fogging in the cool night air. “They don’t matter.”
Sehun’s heart caught.
“Then what do I matter as?” he asked, stepping closer. “Because we’ve been talking every night for months. You tell me things you don’t tell anyone. You look at me like I’m more than a friend. And then you show up tonight acting like we’ve never even met.”
Junmyeon turned slowly. His face was tight, conflicted. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
“But you did.”
“I didn’t want people to see...” He stopped, swallowing the rest.
“See what?” Sehun pressed. “That we talk? That we care about each other?”
Junmyeon didn’t answer.
The silence stretched between them, taut and trembling like the final note of a song. Sehun’s fists clenched.
“You said you had a dream about me,” Sehun said, voice lower now, raw. “You said you missed me when I was in Paris. You called me your person once. Was that a lie?”
“No,” Junmyeon said quickly. “No, Sehun. It wasn’t a lie.”
“Then why are you treating me like a secret?”
That landed hard. Junmyeon flinched. Sehun looked away, embarrassed by the crack in his own voice.
Junmyeon stepped forward, closer than he had any right to be. His hand hovered like he wanted to touch Sehun’s arm, but didn’t. “Because I don’t know what this is,” he admitted. “I don’t know what we are.”
Sehun laughed. Sharp. Humorless. “That’s the thing, hyung. We’ve never said what this is. We just keep talking. You say things, and I say things back, and it’s like we’re waiting for someone to say the real thing first.”
Junmyeon looked at him, eyes wide.
“And tonight,” Sehun continued, “I realized I might be waiting for nothing.”
Junmyeon opened his mouth, but no words came.
So Sehun gave him the truth. “I like you. I’ve liked you. I think I started liking you the night you stayed up with me until 4 a.m. while I was spiraling about the comeback. You said my thoughts were loud and messy and beautiful. You remember that?”
Junmyeon nodded. Almost imperceptibly.
“Yeah. Well. That was the beginning of the end for me.”
They stood there, suspended in time, like the whole city had stopped breathing with them.
Finally, Suho said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“But you did.”
“I was scared.”
“I’m scared too!” Sehun shouted, voice cracking. “Do you think it’s easy for me? I’m not good at this, I’m not good at feelings. But I thought we were doing this together.”
The air between them buzzed with unsaid things.
“I kept thinking you’d say something,” Sehun said softly. “That you’d say what I couldn’t.”
“I wanted to,” Junmyeon said. “I still want to.”
Sehun waited. His heart pounded like the beat from inside, only now it was inside his ribs, shaking him apart.
Junmyeon stepped forward, finally touching his arm.
“I like you too, Sehun.”
It was so soft, so sincere, it almost didn’t sound real.
Sehun looked down at the hand on his arm, then back at Junmyeon's face.
“I don’t want to just talk anymore,” he whispered.
Junmyeon's thumb brushed his wrist.
“Then let’s stop talking.”
The first kiss was hesitant. Gentle. A question.
The second was an answer.
Sehun pressed closer, one hand gripping Junmyeon's jacket like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Suho’s lips tasted like whiskey and guilt and something achingly sweet underneath.
When they pulled apart, both of them were breathing fast. The city lights made Suho’s eyes look like glass, catching every flicker of emotion.
“I’m not good at this either,” Junmyeon said. “But I want to try.”
Sehun’s smile was small, but real. “No more hiding?”
“No more hiding,” Junmyeon promised.
Inside, the party raged on. But out here, on a lonely balcony in the middle of Seoul, everything else faded away.
They weren’t just talking anymore.
They were beginning.