Work Text:
1st time
Cameras snapped in overlapping bursts, each flash leaving afterimages across his vision. Someone coughed into a microphone. The interviewer shuffled papers. Hanbin sat at the polished table, his leader’s mask firmly in place, but his attention kept drifting sideways.
Matthew was struggling.
The cameras wouldn’t catch it – too busy tracking whoever was speaking. But Hanbin knew Matthew’s tells the way he knew his own breathing. The way Matthew’s shoulders had drawn tight, how his fingers worried at the seam of his jeans beneath the table, the barely slight delay before he responded to questions – as if he was translating everything twice before speaking.
He shifted in his seat, and Hanbin caught the flash of genuine distress that crossed his features.
Without thinking, Hanbin let his hand drift beneath the table, fingers finding Matthew’s knee. The touch was feather-light, hidden from view, but steady as an anchor in churning waters.
Their eyes met for a heartbeat. Hanbin parted his lips slightly, drawing in a slow, deliberate breath – exaggerated just enough for Matthew to notice. Follow me.
He watched Matthew’s chest rise and fall as he matched the rhythm, saw the rigid line of his shoulders soften just slightly. The knot of tension that had been building in Hanbin’s own chest loosened as colour returned to Matthew’s face.
There you are, Hanbin allowed himself a tiny smile.
The interview broke for a break after twenty minutes. Gyuvin made a beeline for the snack table. Someone’s chair scraped back. Hanbin stood, tracking Matthew automatically – how he’d drifted to the corner, standing with his weight on one hip, staring at nothing. His mind was probably replaying every stumbled response, every moment of hesitation.
Hanbin moved through the small crowd with practiced ease, stepping around his members’ conversations until he reached Matthew’s side.
“Hey.” Hanbin kept his voice low enough that only Matthew would hear. “You doing okay?”
The question seemed to catch Matthew off-guard.
“I’m just... frustrated. I can’t keep up with the Korean like I want to.” Matthew admitted, his voice carrying a weight of self-recrimination. He managed a flat laugh. “I thought I’d be better by now, you know?”
“You understood and answered three questions back-to-back.” Hanbin reached up, fingers sliding through Matthew’s hair, thumb grazing his temple. “You’re getting better every day.”
Matthew sighed, leaning into the touch. “You think so?”
“I do. You’re doing just fine, okay?”
“Thanks, hyung.”
“Anytime.”
2nd time
The practice room was dark except for the corner where Matthew had left one light on. 11:47 PM. Hanbin watched him restart the same eight-count for the third time in as many minutes, shirt dark with sweat at the chest.
“You’re still here?” He stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind him.
Matthew stopped mid-turn, breathing hard. “I can’t get this part right.”
“Everyone messes up when they’re tired.”
“Not like this.” Matthew scrubbed a hand over his face. “Everyone else picked it up so easily during practice today, but I– I’m usually better than this.”
Matthew demonstrated the move again. His foot caught on the turn, sent him stumbling slightly.
Hanbin crossed the room and caught his wrists. Matthew’s pulse jumped under his thumb.
“You’re overthinking it,” Hanbin said gently, thumbs pressing into Matthew’s skin. “Your body knows the movement, you’re just getting into your own head.”
Some of the tension bled out of Matthew’s shoulders, his next breath deeper. This was what Hanbin was good at – reading Matthew’s needs, knowing exactly how to ground him when the world felt too overwhelming.
“Here.” Hanbin moved behind him, hands fitting to Matthew’s shoulders. “Don’t think about the steps. Feel the rhythm.”
Matthew’s body yielded, following his guidance. For maybe ten seconds, it worked.
His phone buzzed against his hip. Once. Twice. Three times in quick succession.
Hanbin tried to ignore it, but the buzzing continued.
He felt his attention split despite himself, his grip on Matthew’s shoulders loosening. “Sorry, I just–”
“It’s okay.” Matthew stepped out of his grip. Hanbin could hear the disappointment in his voice.
Hanbin pulled out his phone. The screen lit up with messages from their manager.
“Damn it, they need me to review the schedule changes for next week. There’s some conflict with the variety show appearance and the recording session.”
He was already typing a response, thumbs moving quickly.
“Right now? Hyung, it’s almost 1 AM.”
“I know, but they’re trying to fit in another show before our comeback. It’s good – more exposure before the album drops.” Hanbin was backing toward the door, eyes alternating between his phone screen and Matthew’s face. “Get some rest, okay? We’ll work on it together tomorrow.”
“But I almost had it. Could you just–”
Hanbin paused at the threshold, his hand on the door handle. “Tomorrow. I promise.”
“Yeah… okay. Tomorrow.”
3rd time
Hanbin’s laptop screen showed a spreadsheet of forum screenshots. Three tabs open. Manager-nim’s phone face-down on the table between them.
“We need to address this carefully.” Manager-nim tapped the edge of his phone. “Can’t ignore it, but we don’t want to make it bigger.”
Hanbin nodded, already thinking three steps ahead. Damage control. Statement draft. This was his job – protecting his members, handling the difficult situations so the others didn’t have to. He made the hard decisions, absorbed the criticism, managed the problems. It was better this way.
Matthew didn’t need to see any of this.
Hanbin’s hand moved toward the laptop.
Then the door opened.
Matthew stopped in the doorway, gym bag sliding off his shoulder. His eyes went from Manager-nim’s face to Hanbin’s screen to the careful blankness Hanbin knew he was wearing.
“Hey,” Matthew said slowly, moving fully into the room and letting the door close behind him. “What’s going on?”
“Just handling some stuff,” Hanbin said carefully, his fingers drumming against the table. “We’re almost done.”
But Matthew came nearer. “What stuff?”
“There was an issue with some online comments about the group. That’s all.”
“What kind of comments? About who?”
When it became clear Hanbin wouldn’t answer, Manager-nim shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “About you.”
This was the moment Hanbin had been trying to avoid. “It’s nothing we can’t handle, Matthew-yah.” He reached out for his arm.
But Matthew took a small step back. Hanbin’s hand fell to his side. The rejection was subtle but sharp.
“What are they saying?”
Their manager explained about the choreography comments, the fan complaints about line distribution and honestly anything under the sun.
“Why wouldn’t you want to tell me?”
“I was trying to protect you.” The words emerged more defensive than Hanbin intended.
“From what?” Matthew’s voice stayed quiet. “I already know people talk shit about me online, hyung. They do it to everyone. I’m not stupid.”
“That’s not–” Hanbin stood up too fast. His chair scraped. “You don’t need to see every single thing they say.”
“And you do?”
The question landed wrong. Hanbin felt his shoulders tense, frustration starting to settle. “Someone has to handle it.”
“How many times–” Matthew’s voice cracked. He stopped, breathed. Started again. “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to take on everything by yourself. I’m strong enough to be here with you too.”
“This isn’t about that.”
“Then what is it about?”
Silence.
Matthew’s throat worked. “Do you even hear me anymore when I say these things? Or do you only have leader ears now?”
“Mashu, come on.”
“You’re not just my leader. You’re also my best friend.” The words came out a whisper. “I’m not just another member to manage.”
Hanbin reached for him again. Matthew stepped back, again.
“I need some air.”
Hanbin stood in the empty room, his hand still extended toward nothing. Manager-nim’s phone buzzed. The laptop screen had gone dark.
4th time
The airport was a nightmare – a living, breathing monster of flashing cameras, screams from every direction, and bodies pressing in tight. Security struggled against the relentless tide of fans, their efforts seeming inadequate against the sheer number of people that had descended upon them.
Hanbin kept himself at the front of the group, as he always did. Matthew hung back in the middle, observant and calm. The system worked. They’d all done this countless times before.
But chaos, by its very nature, was unpredictable.
It wasn’t until Gyuvin’s voice cut through the cacophony, frantic and high-pitched, that they realised they were short a member.
“Wait! Where’s Mashu?”
Hanbin’s head whipped around, his heart hammering in his chest. He searched desperately, catching glimpses of faces and movement, trying to spot Matthew.
Then he saw him, trapped.
Someone grabbed Matthew’s sleeve, deliberate – a harsh yank that threw him off balance. He stumbled, and the crowd surged forward, shoving him further back, pulling him away from the group and deeper into the mass of bodies.
Matthew, pushing against people, trying to fight his way through. But the crowd was relentless, an ocean threatening to drown him.
Hanbin didn’t wait for security. He shoved past people, elbows digging into strangers. Until Matthew was all he could see.
Finally, he reached out, his fingers wrapping around Matthew’s forearm.
And he pulled.
When they finally emerged into the slightly calmer space beyond the chaos, both of them were heaving. Hanbin’s grip on Matthew’s arm was probably too tight, but he couldn’t let go. He was furious at everyone – the crowd, security, himself for not noticing sooner.
“Why didn’t you say something?” The words came out harsh. “Why didn’t you call out?”
Matthew looked up at him, his face still pale, the tension in his shoulders not yet gone. He swallowed hard, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes – a vulnerability that Hanbin hadn’t seen in a while.
“I didn’t think you’d hear me,” he said, his voice strained. “With the… with the crowd and all.”
Hanbin’s heart twisted painfully. He knew Matthew was trying to soften the blow, but he heard what Matthew wasn’t saying anyway.
I didn’t think you were listening.
Matthew’s gaze dropped to Hanbin’s hand on his arm. Then slowly, deliberately, he pulled away.
Hanbin’s grip loosened, but the realization sank in.
Somewhere along the way, Matthew had stopped reaching for him, stopped calling his name. And Hanbin had been too blind, too consumed with managing everything else, to notice.
5th time
They had just wrapped their final Inkigayo performance. The win felt real this time, not just another checkbox. Everyone was still buzzing when they got back to the dorm, the crowd’s screams ringing in their ears, stage lights burned into their vision.
The members scattered throughout the living room, filling the space with snacks and laughter as the electric buzz of performance slowly settled into something warmer, more intimate.
There was a shared, unspoken pride in each other’s efforts, a collective exhale after weeks of relentless preparation.
Hanbin should have been riding the high of another successful milestone. Instead, his attention kept drifting to the figure leaning against the kitchen counter.
Matthew stood there nursing the same bottle of soju. He was there but not really – laughing at the right moments but his eyes were somewhere else.
For weeks now, Hanbin had been trying. Small gestures that Matthew had either missed or deliberately ignored. A coffee on Matthew’s nightstand that went cold, untouched. His hand hovering near Matthew’s back at music shows but never allowed contact. Text messages that got back single-word answers hours later.
Every attempt fell short. Matthew would slip away before Hanbin could reach him. But tonight, seeing Matthew so isolated in the middle of their celebration, he couldn’t watch anymore.
Hanbin crossed the room before he could second-guess himself.
Matthew’s head snapped up as he approached, eyes wide with surprise. “Wha–”
Hanbin reached out without a word and pulled Matthew into a hug. Gentle. Careful. Giving him every chance to pull away.
Matthew froze at first. But then slowly, he began to relax into the embrace.
The relief that flooded through Hanbin was immediate. He’d forgotten how perfectly they fit together, how Matthew’s head tucked just right against his shoulder. He’d been wanting this for weeks – proof they could still do this.
Matthew’s hands, which had been hanging at his sides, slowly came up to rest against Hanbin’s back. Not quite returning the hug, but it was more than Hanbin had dared to hope for.
“You good?” Hanbin asked, his voice softer than it had been in weeks. Not the polite tone he’d been using lately. The real one.
He felt Matthew burrow his forehead further into the space beside his chest. Matthew’s fingers curled slightly in the fabric of his shirt.
“Yeah,” Muffled. “I’m good.”
+1. Matthew finally reaches for Hanbin’s hand first
That hug changed something, meant something.
It didn’t fix everything, but it was a start.
As they now sat on opposite ends of the couch in the quiet of the dorm’s living room, Matthew felt resolve build inside him – stronger than his fear and clearer than his hurt. No more tiptoeing around each other.
It was Gyuvin, actually, who’d said it without meaning to. Hyung just doesn’t know how to not take care of people. It’s kind of his whole thing, you know?
And something clicked.
Matthew got it now – the impossible position Hanbin had been trying to navigate.
And he’d been frustrated not because he doubted Hanbin cared, but because watching someone he cherished so much shoulder every burden alone was unbearable.
Maybe this time around they could do it better. Maybe they could find a way for Hanbin to protect without shutting Matthew out, for Matthew to support without making Hanbin feel like his care was being questioned.
They’d drifted far enough now, and screw not knowing how to talk to someone again. Because Hanbin meant more to him than that. More than pride, more than silence.
There was no right time, only right now.
Matthew stood, heart pounding. He took a few steps toward Hanbin, unsure of what he was doing but knowing he couldn’t remain in their weird limbo any longer.
His hand hovered in the space between them, shaking slightly. Then he reached out.
His fingers brushed Hanbin’s – just the simple act of closing the gap. Of letting Hanbin know that he was still here, still wanted to be here, still cared even after all the space that had come between them.
Hanbin flinched. Their eyes met across the small distance, and Matthew didn’t look away.
After what felt like an eternity, Hanbin’s hand shifted, his fingers slowly curling around Matthew’s.
“I miss you, hyung.” Matthew could finally breathe. “I miss us. And I... I get it now. Why you thought you had to handle everything alone.”
Hanbin’s eyes flickered with surprise, then something deeper like guilt, regret or longing all mixed together. “Seokmae-ah...”
“I want us to be okay again,” Matthew continued. Hanbin hadn’t pulled away, and that gave him courage. “But we figure it out together this time. Please?”
“I don’t know how to say sorry the way I want to.” Hanbin bit his lip, and Matthew remembered why he cared so much in the first place.
He didn’t need to hear anything else. He pulled Hanbin into him and held him tightly, like they were glueing every piece of their bond back together in that single embrace.
“That was close enough,” Matthew murmured against Hanbin’s hair. “We’ll learn the rest as we go.”
Hanbin’s arms tightened around him, and Matthew knew they’d be okay.
They would make it through this – they just had to keep reaching for each other, keep believing that together was always better.