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The sea breeze seeping in from the slightly rolled down window makes Bamby stir awake slowly, his senses coming back to him in small waves as he registers the rocky bumps on the offbeat road that moves their camper van in a gentle shake. The van’s engine thrums in the periphery of his thoughts—a steady, pleasant sound that almost lulls him back to the still-inviting slumber.
Almost, being the keyword here, because he suddenly feels warmth radiating from his left hand, the soft interlacing of callused fingers and a familiar hand enveloping his entire palm. Bamby blinks the rest of the sleep clouding his eyes, and looks over to find Eunho, a faint smile etched upon his lips with one hand on the steering wheel, gaze fixated on the dim-lit road ahead.
“Rise and shine, sunshine,” Eunho says, almost a sing-song. The grip on their interlocked hands tightens momentarily in his greeting. Bamby squeezes back. “Or are you tired after being so bright and radiant all day long?”
With how long they’ve been together, Bamby thinks he should’ve already grown numb to Eunho’s lame attempts at flirting. But when he glances to find Eunho looking over to shoot him a cheeky wink, he just chalks it up to the fact that he’s too sleepy to attempt to fight the smile tugging at his cheeks.
“That’s corny,” is what Bamby chooses to respond with.
“And that’s fine. You like corn fritters,” comes Eunho’s lightning-fast retort. It’s so stupid that it makes Bamby snort under his breath.
They fall into a comfortable silence for a while, hands still intertwined—the only time Eunho pulled away was when he needed to shift the gear at a particularly steep road, before promptly returning it to Bamby’s awaiting hand atop his thigh as if it’s where it rightfully belongs. Bamby’s thumb moves idly, featherlight over the back of Eunho’s hand, rewarding him with a pleasant hum. Bamby stifles a laugh as he can’t get rid of the mental image of Eunho's tail wagging happily behind him if he really had one.
“Today was fun,” Bamby starts after a while, words filling the stretching silence. Simple, factual, possibly rhetorical—something light that doesn’t leave an awkward lingering in the air if Eunho isn’t in the mood for small talk.
Leaning back in his seat, Bamby fixes his gaze somewhere through the windshield, towards the clear black skies mottled with distant stars. The gleam of the moon greets him like a soft sigh, silver rays landing upon his sun-kissed skin in a gentle caress.
They really picked the perfect day to hang out at the beach, Bamby thinks. It’s like the universe somehow heeded to their plans, granting them a day with nothing but light breeze and clear skies as they spend their last bit of company-allotted free time together before the bustle of concert prep takes over.
He hears a rustle to his side—Eunho shifting in the driver’s seat, hand momentarily off the wheel to brush his limp, windswept bangs from falling into his eyes before he answers.
“It was. When was the last time we went to the beach with all five of us?”
“I don’t think we have,” Bamby hums, thoughtful.
Along with Noah and Hamin, their destination choices have always tended to gravitate towards new cities or the breezy mountains. Yejun rarely has a preference—he’s just happy to go along with wherever his dongsaengs would like to take him.
Eunho? He’ll go wherever there’s food to try. Always so easy to please. “The last time we played somewhere with water was that one Airbnb where Hamin almost cracked his skull.”
Eunho cringes. “Oh, yeah. Eugh. Do me a favor and never remind me of that again, thanks.”
Bamby just shrugs as a response, something like a ‘well, you asked.’
The camper van hums quietly as it enters the highway, slowly leaving the coastal view behind. Eunho rolls the driver’s side window open, pays the fare, and rolls it back up, leaving a small crack just enough to let in the remnants of the cool, salt-tinged breeze.
“You know,” Eunho suddenly says, unprompted. His voice is low, hushed, but full of something incredibly soft. “You didn’t stop smiling at all today. Not even once.”
Bamby tears his gaze away from the stars. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Eunho answers, the word coming out of his mouth almost like a pleasant sigh. “You were smiling all day. Not the forced, camera-ready kind of smile you practice for interviews, no. It was—I don’t know how to describe it, actually. Uh. Weightless, maybe?”
Bamby blinks. Did it really show that much on his face?
Eunho takes Bamby’s non-response as a sign to continue. “When I saw you at the beach today, hyung—the way you sit directly in the midst of the rolling waves. The way you almost tripped over yourself in the sand, chasing the beach ball around. The way you practically lit up when Yejun-hyung said he brought sparklers for us to play after the sun set.”
Eunho pauses, chuckling softly with a small shake of his head, as if he has the Bamby’s of a few hours ago playing inside his head like a rewound tape. “When I saw you there, I realized it’s been so long since I saw you smiling like that. So unrestrained, so free, that you’re practically gleaming under the sun. It’s like—you looked like you were exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
And then he stops, a bit too sudden like he bit his tongue. The end of his sentence hangs unfinished, like there’s still something he wants to say, but doesn’t.
And Bamby’s not one for cliffhangers.
He turns his head at the exact same time Eunho decides to finish the rest of his sentence.
The words hit him with the weight of a gentle wave slowly rolling into shore, settling in his chest like seawater soaking into sun-warmed sand.
“It made me want to kiss you.”
Then Bamby sees him.
And promptly forgets how to breathe.
Eunho is bathed in moonlight. Haloed in it. The silver in his hair catches the glow just right, shimmering like it was made to reflect it. The light travels, kisses the slope of Eunho’s face, wraps around his cheekbones, softening the tired edges of his expression after a long day under the sun.
His profile is calm, unguarded, something Bamby realizes he hasn’t seen a lot, these days. They’ve been busy, all five of them—clocking into work looking tired and clocking out looking worse, running on fumes just to get through one schedule after another. But here, in the hush of this camper van, with the world finally quiet—no schedules, no cameras, no expectations—it looks as if Eunho, the real Eunho, the one that Bamby’s known since they were kids, is finally given back to himself.
Bamby watches, in awe, how the moonlight pools around him like it misses him. Like it’s been starved of his presence after months of not crossing paths, unable to find Eunho behind tightly closed blinds and late nights spent in the studio. These days, Eunho rarely leaves before sunrise, his working hours bleeding into a new day without him noticing. And now, it’s as if the moon is making up for lost time, casting its light over him with something close to longing.
And Eunho, in turn, absorbs it all like it’s something vital, as if this is exactly what he’s been needing all along. It looks like so—with the way the color comes back to his skin, illuminating the red hues of his eyes as they look straight at Bamby in crescents, pushed by the faintest curl of a smile as if Eunho’s looking at something so precious.
Eunho looks so...peaceful, in a way that breaks Bamby’s heart a little.
Because Eunho always shines so brightly onstage when people are watching. He thrives off of it, and he enjoys it, and Bamby always thinks that it’s where Eunho rightfully belongs.
But this version of him—dimmer, quieter, half-curled over the steering wheel, bathed in silver—is what feels so sacred, a secret little thing, and Bamby can’t help but think how lucky he is to be able to see it.
And what gets Bamby most of all—what makes his chest tighten and his breath catch somewhere shy of his lungs—is that out of all the people in this vast universe, he’s the one Eunho looks at like that.
And out of everyone Eunho could want, it’s him that Eunho wants to kiss.
Bamby finds himself leaning forward as if drawn by something magnetic. There’s a pull in his chest, the urge to touch, to confirm that the man in front of him isn’t just some dream his sun-tired brain conjured up out of longing.
So he reaches.
His fingertips brush against Eunho’s cheek, warm under his touch. Slowly, languidly, he traces the path of freckles, mottled on like cosmic constellations on a pink-hued galaxy, remnants of the earlier sunburn on the high points of his cheekbones. And then Eunho slightly tilts his head, just enough for the corner of his lips to press a kiss onto Bamby’s knuckle, punching a breath out of his lungs in a shaky shudder.
The contact is light, barely there, but it’s enough for Bamby to confirm. Eunho is real. Soft. Alive.
And still looks like he wants to kiss him.
Bamby couldn’t even stop the words from tumbling out his mouth if he tried.
“Then why not now?” Bamby asks, the words almost weightless—but his heart anything but.
Eunho chuckles at that, almost in disbelief. He shifts in his seat, gaze flicking meaningfully to the rearview mirror before drifting back towards the road, resuming his drive.
His voice is light, lilted with humor when he speaks. “In case you forgot, this is a family trip.” He shrugs one shoulder. “The peanut gallery behind us might look asleep, but I’m not gonna risk giving them materials to tease us over the next three weeks.”
Bamby sits up a little to look over one shoulder. In the back, the members are all passed out, dead to the world—or so they seem, Eunho claims—in the kind of deep sleep that only comes after hours playing in the sun. Yejun sleeps sitting up with his mouth open, snoring softly with his head tucked sideways underneath Noah’s chin. Noah has a beach towel draped over his thighs as a makeshift blanket, head lolled to the side and bare arms folded in front of his chest because he forgot to bring a hoodie for the ride back home.
On the opposite side, Hamin sleeps all curled up like a cat, laying down with the entire seat to himself, looking comfortable nestled in a pile of towels, half-eaten snacks, and cans of warming beer.
Bamby looks back towards Eunho, keeping his voice flat. “You say this as if we haven’t had them walk in on us kissing before.”
Eunho splutters, and Bamby watches in amusement how his sunburnt cheeks grow even redder. “Wh—well Hamin hasn’t! God forbid. Must protect the baby.”
“He can’t be that much younger than you,” Bamby retorts with a roll of his eyes. Then, with a cheeky smirk, he adds, “Surely Haminie can handle seeing a little smooch.”
He can’t help but cackle at the instant mortification dawning on Eunho’s face. “Hyung!” He whines, and Bamby laughs even harder.
Their van glides off the highway, slipping into the calmer, more familiar rhythm of the half-asleep city past midnight, the overhead street lights casting shadows on the dashboard, streaking muted gold across Eunho’s skin. Bamby watches the way they dance, patterns everchanging, until a red light brings them to a gentle stop, snapping him out of his reverie.
He glances back once, and leans a little closer to Eunho, voice low. “They’re out cold, Eunho-ya.” He lets his thumb run on the back of Eunho’s hand again, grounding, reassuring. Luring. “You’re thinking too much.”
He sees the reds of Eunho’s eyes flicker back towards the rearview mirror, and then back at Bamby. He holds his gaze for a second, maybe two, before he sighs—the sound caught somewhere between long-suffering and fond exasperation.
“So impatient,” Eunho murmurs, the way he says it sends a pleasant shiver down Bamby’s spine. But he leans forward anyway, over the central console.
And Bamby meets him halfway.
The kiss is soft, a chaste touch of lips—quick and gentle, like the kind you give when you don’t want to disturb the quiet. Eunho sighs into the kiss, caught between the slight part of Bamby’s lips, and Bamby drinks it in like a man starved of rain, greedy for every breath he can take. It’s slow, the tilt of their heads, as if choreographed— they’re masters of this dance, the steps only the two of them know, because they’ve done this for years.
Years, and yet Bamby still craves Eunho’s kisses like it’s the first time.
But then it’s over before Bamby realizes he’d even closed his eyes.
The light turns green.
Bamby pulls back, dazed and almost in disbelief, when his eyes follow the movement of Eunho’s fingers shifting the gear back to drive, letting the van move again smoothly into the night.
“That’s it?” Bamby says, incredulously offended. “You’ve been yearning to kiss me all day and that’s what I get?”
Eunho keeps his eyes on the road still, but the curve of his smile gives him away, along with the tips of his ears turning a little pink.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, placatingly. “Wait until we get home.”
A promise.
And really, Bamby could’ve just left it at that. Let the warmth of Eunho’s words settle, and be content with the promise of what awaits in their shared apartment.
But he doesn’t. Because tonight, he feels like he can get away with it—even if he’s being a little shit.
“Not even another peck at the next red light?” He tries. Bargains.
“Bonggu-hyung.”
Well. So much for trying.
Bamby lets out a little dramatic sigh, throwing his back against his seat with a huff for good measure while deliberately ignoring the breath of laughter he hears from the driver’s seat. “Fine.” He squeezes the hand still wrapped in his. “But at least we get to keep holding hands until we get there.”
“But your hands are clammy,” Eunho deadpans, just to provoke him.
Bamby squeezes tighter in retaliation, lips quirking up into a smile.
“And that’s fine. Because you like clam kalguksu.”
It takes a second for the joke to register, the callback—and Eunho laughs under his breath, shaking his head. And though he doesn’t say anything in reply, he doesn’t let go either.
The city unfolds beyond the van windows, colors and lights weaving together in a quiet blur, casting their little world—just the two of them, Bamby perceives, awake and attuned to each other’s presence—in a soft, shifting glow, guiding them home in a gentle cradle of light.
And for the rest of the ride home, their hands stay exactly where they are.