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Somehow the entire thing starts and ends like one big joke at his expense—deeply unfunny and most likely to send him into a state of anxiety-induced panic. Heeseung’s not aware that it’s even a thing—that there’s anything off about the way Jungwon stands up after rehearsals and stretches out, all cat-like and languid, a trail of sweat leading from the blonde hair pressed flat to his skull, down his neck and into one of the communal shirts they use for practice, and then switches his attention over to Heeseung and says blithely, “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Historically, those nine words have never spelled anything good for him. But he overlooks it because it’s Jungwon—dependable, steadfast, reasonable Jungwon who’s never asked him of anything he couldn’t give and is the only reason none of them has fallen into a random ditch at any point over the last couple years and succumbed to a terrible death. And Jungwon could want to talk to him about anything.
So of course he says yes and makes his way to the door where Jungwon is already, smiling at him when he opens the door for the both of them, and steps out into the low-lit outer room of the practice hall they’re renting out for their tour, the door shutting behind them with a final sort of thud that echoes long after.
Never let it be said Heeseung isn’t brave, despite everything. That he’s unwilling to face things head-on.
It goes more or less like this:
Heeseung’s member of almost five whole years, beloved leader and most-appreciated dongsaeng, coolheaded almost to a fault and most often making other people lose themselves to his innate cuteness that contradicts his outward demeanour, glances at him for a moment, unspeaking even though it’s been over a minute since they came out here, his face shiny underneath the hallway’s yellow light, and then says to him, “I like you Heeseung hyung.”
In his defense, the confession doesn’t register at first.
Heeseung chuckles and shakes his head. “Sorry I could’ve sworn you said something about you liking me? But that can’t be—”
Jungwon cuts him off. “I did say that.”
There’s a droplet of sweat slowly sliding down his nose, and in the awkward silence that forms after his confirmation, it plops onto his cupid’s bow. He wipes it absently and fixes Heeseung with a look that could be read as defiantly uncaring, waiting.
“Uh,” Heeseung says, blinking furiously. There’s protocol for this, he knows, because this isn’t the first, or second, or even third, god forbid, time he’s been put in this same exact situation, confronted with a confession that’s seemingly come out of nowhere, and directed at him, and he’s come up with ways to deal with it, except; Heeseung feels like he’s been caught unaware, grappling for something to say that isn’t What the actual fuck, Jungwon’s dark guileless eyes boring into him when nothing else comes out of his mouth, lips parted around a half-formed question.
He can’t speak, finds it hard to even try. His throat’s gone parched, like he hadn’t just gulped down half a water bottle of water. And it’s never been this hard, Heeseung thinks distantly, the thought manifesting in the part of his brain that hasn’t descended into foggy panic, rendering the ability to parse through his thoughts and the reaction that’s accompanied them ineffective; like he’s witnessing this occur from out of his body, an uninvolved voyeur.
It’s never been hard for Heeseung to reject someone, sometimes to his chagrin. It’s not difficult for him to react accordingly, even when his heart pinches at the downtrodden expression it’ll bring forth. He’s logical about this, as much as he can be. He’s never claimed to be able to separate his feelings from whatever he does, and it’s to his advantage most of the time with the work they do, being passionate is after all suitable when it comes to music and dance, but he tries. Oh he does.
And the person being rejected happening to be one of his group members has never stopped him before, funnily enough. Jungwon might be the fourth person—or at least, the fourth person to actually say the unspoken aloud, Heeseung amends.
Jake’s like him in that he’d never said anything and Heeseung hadn’t wanted him to anyway.
“I’ve liked you for a long time, hyung.” Jungwon says finally, when it becomes clear Heeseung won’t be saying much of anything else. He shrugs one shoulder, a small, pleased smile quirking his mouth. There’s an obvious giddiness to being able to say that aloud; and Heeseung, he wonders. Wonders how long, when it became serious enough for Jungwon to confess, the why of it all. And most importantly, the expectations held for the outcome.
Because even in all of Heeseung’s freezing, slow panic glory, he knows there’s at least that.
He shifts, the space around them feeling too small all of a sudden. “Jungwon-ah,” Heeseung begins, then stops, unsure. He scratches his wrist, at a loss. Jungwon’s watching him closely, eyes keen and probably picking up all the intricacies of his expression.
It hadn’t been this hard the last time, but maybe that’s because it’s been so long he’s forgotten the excruciating sensation of mustering up something of worth to say, to explain. He likes to think his memory is sharp, certainly well enough for recollecting small details, but maybe he’s just buried this experience.
Heeseung rejecting Jay feels nothing like having to tell Jungwon he doesn’t like him. And he could just brush it off to the fact Jay had come to him with acceptance in his eyes and a bright laugh to assure Heeseung it was alright he didn’t feel the same way, or more aptly, he didn’t feel like pursuing the more that was so coveted.
The thought of rejecting Jungwon makes him want to shrivel up and die, quite simply. Jungwon who cuddles up to him whenever they watch horror movies because he knows Heeseung’s only doing it for his sake. Jungwon who’s quick to talk to him about anything, a pillar that’s never crumbled beneath the weight of all of Heeseung’s insecurities and worries. Jungwon who always has something positive to say about him, about any of them really.
There was a time when he didn’t reach past Heeseung’s sternum, eyes big like boba and a roundness to his face that’s melted away for the most part, a sharp jaw and smooth cheekbones left in place. There’s some remnants of the kid Heeseung knew—in how whenever he questions him about things he isn’t sure of the end of his words lilt up softly, the way he leans against Heeseung’s back when they’re in line at a store, heavy and unmoving, the stubborn purse of his mouth when he wants something but is trying to figure out how to work around asking for it outright—but his change is undeniable.
The Jungwon in front of him is definitely not the kid he knew, a part of him, sure, but not his entirety.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.” Heeseung says helplessly, and Jungwon’s expression changes then, a gleam entering those dark eyes at the slight shake of his voice.
Jungwon grins at him. “It’s okay hyung, you don’t have to say anything right now. I know it’s a big thing to spring onto you.”
Relief unfurls the tight knot in Heeseung’s stomach, and he takes the lifeline for what it is.
“Thanks Jungwon-ah. Hyung will try to think it over, okay?” His legs feel like jelly as all the air in the room returns suddenly, the suffocating pressure he hadn’t realized was pressing down on him there dissipating.
Jungwon only inclines his head, face placid as he gestures at the room’s door. “I’ll go ahead first if you don’t mind. I bet they’ve already convinced PD-nim to extend our break.”
He watches him leave, the top of his blonde hair disappearing through the door. There’s something niggling in the back of his mind, about cats and how they don’t know how to leave things alone, but he’s freed for the time being from figuring out what to do about Jungwon’s confession and that’s enough for Heeseung.