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Had he been someone else, Yeonjun wouldn’t have lived his life in such a way. But, he’s Choi Yeonjun: the “it boy,” the global superstar, the one in a million loved by the millions. He couldn’t possibly let a single person down, let alone the bunch of people who carried him by their heartbeats. He never thought of the love showering over him as a burden, but rather some kind of overflowing glory he didn’t really think of deserving. So, he worked his ass off, even though he knew he couldn’t match the energy and love he received, but he tried his best to not disappoint anyone by continuously putting out works that require so much care and detail to be executed.
Yeonjun gazed at himself at the mirror. His bangs were ash blond, contrasting his actual black hair behind it. His eyes were darker, deeper, more sunken than usual, as he realized his fucked up sleeping pattern had actually taken a toll on him and how he appeared, despite the constant usage of toner on his facial features. His lips were a little dry in spite of the fact that he used lip care and never skipped his lip balm before applying makeup. He didn’t look like himself. In fact, he didn’t feel like himself.
The half blond had himself thinking. He felt hollow yet overwhelmed. It’s funny how different the two words he used to describe his feeling, but, really, to him those words were just separated by a thin fabric that he believed had been torn anyways.
He sighed. He put his phone on the dry side of the sink, then grabbed his toothbrush. Fuck it.
The sun was still too shy to come out. The clock hadn’t even showed signs of getting closer to five o’clock. But Yeonjun was wide awake, after he took his two hours nap.
Yeonjun decided he was going to start the day anyways, so why not start early?
As he squeezed some of the toothpaste on his electric toothbrush, he hummed a little song, the very same song he let his phone play to not overbear him with the silence of his bedroom’s bathroom. It was not the kind of lighthearted songs Yeonjun used whenever he would sense a panic attack coming on his way. It’s early in the morning, but, yes, Yeonjun needed a loud company to fill in the gap and so ‘Abracadabra’ by Lady Gaga felt suiting for the moment.
He had to keep himself busy.
He had to keep his mind busy.
He had to keep his body busy.
Otherwise, he would be thinking of something else. Perhaps, a someone else. The one Yeonjun avoided thinking about, but flashes of him still sprinted through his head. Maybe, he’s even imprinted in his brain, in his heart, in his soul. But, every string of Yeonjun’s consciousness tried to put some sense in him, pulling him so he would distract himself and not go in that direction.
“Yeonjun hyung.”
Yeonjun’s eyes immediately shifted towards the man standing out of his bathroom. He started to regret not locking his door, but at the same time he couldn’t be as he got to see the figure of the person whom he longed so much for. A smile tugged on the corner of Yeonjun’s lips as he took out his toothbrush.
Ah, came the storm. (Un)fortunately for Yeonjun, he loved the storm.
“Yes, Binnie?”
The younger was undoubtedly still half awake. His oversized teddy bear t-shirt couldn’t hide his amazing physique, though he was slouching from the drowsiness. How could someone be so mesmerizing and hypnotizing as Soobin was even though in such kind of situation, or so Yeonjun thought to himself.
“You need anything?” mumbled Yeonjun, his mouth still full of foam. He quickly spit it out in the sink and washed his toothbrush before turning to the brunet.
Yeonjun immediately finished after gargling a little of his mouthwash, all while being watched by the younger (not quickly because Yeonjun was uncomfortable but rather out of empathy since he thought Soobin might want to borrow his toilet or something). He turned off his music and let himself face the taller who still seemed to be in his dreamland somehow. “You good?” he asked.
Soobin smelled like his bed. His hair was fuzzy and his eyes were half closed. And he let himself fall into Yeonjun’s embrace.
The younger positioned his head on Yeonjun’s shoulder. He let his once free arms lock Yeonjun’s waist. His whole body leaned and pressed against Yeonjun’s, as if trying to merge themselves as a unit. He let every inch of their skin touch against one another, not wanting to let go as if the world was ending. The warmth in their bodies exchanged, as if so much had been spoken and conversed in the silence of their hug.
“Hyung,” mumbled Soobin. “You’re comfortable.”
Yeonjun gulped his own spit. He could feel his knees turning jelly, himself crumbling down under Soobin’s touch. He felt tingles all over his body and how his stomach was somewhat infested by millions of fluttering butterflies. His mind turned hazy as he slowly lost his sight, burying his own face into Soobin’s shirt too. Yeonjun let his hands circle around Soobin’s body, his hands reached the brunet’s upper back. With Soobin, he could feel himself being inherently content, while at the same time hungry for his presence, as if time would never be adequate to fulfill his longing for Soobin.
For a while, the two breathed in sync. For a minute, their heart beats were synchronized. For once.
Yeonjun didn’t dare move, didn’t dare speak. He was terrified that any sound might break the spell Soobin had unknowingly cast on him. The younger’s heartbeat thudded gently against his chest, and the warmth spreading through his body was more intoxicating than anything Yeonjun had ever experienced. He felt grounded and weightless all at once—contradictions, just like the hollow yet overwhelming feeling he had earlier.
The elder had been overworking himself for some while, so that kind of rest was well needed. Though it’s breaking Yeonjun how scared he was if he did something, it would ruin everything. Because the rest he was having was the exact opposite of the purpose that had driven him to the insurmountable amount of work he was doing.
Soobin shifted ever so slightly, his cheek brushing against Yeonjun’s collarbone, and the superstar almost forgot how to breathe. The embrace wasn’t romantic—at least not intentionally or so they thought—but the way Soobin’s body fit against his, the way his arms refused to let go, the way his quiet breaths fanned against Yeonjun’s neck, all of it felt like something more. Something dangerous. Something Yeonjun had been running from.
“Did you sleep well?” Yeonjun whispered, his voice shaky, as though he were afraid to break the fragile stillness. He tried to not make Soobin notice that he was harbouring some sort of ocean deep level feeling towards the younger. He tried to care as the hyung Soobin had always known. But he found himself frail.
Soobin hummed, a low sound that rumbled in his chest, before tightening his hold just slightly. “I don’t know. I dreamt of you.” His voice was quiet, slurred with drowsiness, yet it stabbed through Yeonjun’s composure with the precision of a blade. “In my dreams, you ran away from me. So, please tell me you’re not leaving me now.” His confession felt like a plea, like a beg. And it terrified Yeonjun. “I think I’ve been missing you these days, therefore.”
Yeonjun’s throat went dry. Missing him? He wanted to laugh, to deflect, to play it off as just one of Soobin’s sleepy confessions that would be forgotten by daylight. But the sincerity laced in those words clung to Yeonjun’s skin like a permanent ink, as if branded to him.
“I’m never leaving you, Binnie,” replied Yeonjun, trying to chuckle it off. “Not you, not the team. Not now, not ever.” He tried his best to sound like he’s on his right mind, like his actual intended answered didn’t trail off so far into some kind of vows he couldn’t bring himself to verbalize. “You still remember we just signed the new contract yesterday, right? Because we’re for lifers,” added Yeonjun, trying to play it off cool, trying to say it as if it was weightless like a feather, though it’s heaviest thing he gave up from his chest towards the younger since the past few weeks, years even.
“I know. I'm not talking about us. I'm talking about us,” replied Soobin, his grip only getting tighter, his hands into a knot that locked behind Yeonjun’s back. “And I still miss you.”
Yeonjun felt pathetic. His fingers twitched against Soobin’s back, torn between pulling him closer and letting go before he drowned in this unspoken want. “You’re clingy in the mornings, Binnie,” Yeonjun teased weakly, trying to lace his tone with lightness, but it cracked on the edges.
Soobin finally lifted his head, slow and reluctant. His eyes, though barely open, carried a softness that made Yeonjun want to crumble into ash. “Maybe. But only with you.”
That was it. The breaking point. Maybe, it's an exaggeration, sure. But Yeonjun had spent years training himself to withstand exhaustion, pressure, millions of eyes watching him, yet he wasn’t sure he could withstand the weight of Soobin’s gaze, not when it felt like the younger could see every fractured part of him. He couldn't possibly show the truth.
Yeonjun’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His mind raced for an escape route, a quick-witted response, anything to cover the cracks Soobin had just peeled open with such devastating simplicity. But nothing came. Just stillness—thick, trembling stillness where his heart screamed louder than any stadium ever could. And it mortified him.
The brunet tilted his head, as if studying him, as if waiting for the answer Yeonjun was too much of a coward to give. The silence stretched, fragile as glass, until Yeonjun forced a breath out and masked it with a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Yeonjun said softly, brushing a strand of messy hair away from Soobin’s forehead. He gulped, trying his best not to stammer like some kind of stupid teenager. His hand lingered longer than it should have, his thumb almost grazing the younger’s temple before he pulled back. “Go back to sleep. You’re just saying nonsense.”
But Soobin only smiled lazily, the kind of smile that tugged at the corners of his lips without effort, the kind that made Yeonjun’s chest ache. “Maybe,” he whispered. “But it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
The elder froze, his pulse drumming too fast, too erratic. He wanted to tell Soobin to stop—stop being this gentle, stop saying things he couldn’t take back, stop making him believe in things he wasn’t allowed to. But instead, Yeonjun found himself leaning just slightly into the warmth, betraying himself with every breath he shared with the younger.
Soobin’s eyes fluttered shut again, his weight heavy but comforting against Yeonjun’s body, as if he trusted him enough to collapse entirely. The half blond held him there, in that sliver of dusk where time seemed suspended, caught between duty and desire, between who he was supposed to be and who he ached to be.
Yeonjun tugged Soobin in his bed, instead of bringing him back to his room, hoping he would find the same comfort his hug gave from his blanket.
And Yeonjun too hoped his agony would disappear along with the deep feelings he was too afraid to admit. All so he didn't have to risk losing Soobin, ever.
✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮
“Yeonjun hyung,” a voice called out with a snap. “You’re zoning out again.” Beomgyu sighed. It was out of how it usually was, since usually it would be Beomgyu daydreaming in the middle of their regular practices and the elder scolding the latter for not concentrating well. A rather peculiar behavior, an outlier. But lately, the opposite happened more often than the usual and it bothered Beomgyu. “Are you alright?” He was worried about the elder, because he thought the overwork had outdone him and it scared the younger of the decline in his hyung’s health and overall well-being.
“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” replied Yeonjun, blinking multiple times as he had been taken back down to the ground. “Where were we again?” He pulled down his beanie, tightening across his forehead. “I’m sorry, Gyu.”
“Hyung, let’s take a rest,” said Beomgyu. “I already got most of this dance break part pretty well and I think it’s been a long day, so we can practice it another day. You seem like you’re on your last thread already.” The younger took a look at Yeonjun, eyes scanning from head to toe, observing the condition of the elder, analyzing what might be the reason for the constant zoning out.
“Yeah, I guess let’s wrap it up,” muttered Yeonjun. He immediately walked towards the couch with barely any energy left reserved, even though the practice basically only lasted an hour and usually it would take Yeonjun hours to drain that much of his energy, so he didn’t know what kind of fatigue had taken over him that it made him feel so restless even after just an hour of practice that his breaths were pacing back and forth ruthlessly fast. (Perhaps the fatigue was funnily Soobin shaped, Soobin sized.) The half blond sighed, and laid his head on the arm rest, eyelids shut as if trying to regain his life through a short nap.
It was peculiar to find out the god of dance not being able to focus on dance. So, Beomgyu tilted his head a little in confusion. “Is there something bothering you?” Right, he didn’t even scold me once for any mistakes I made too. It’s like I’m practically invisible. “No, yeah, there’s definitely something bothering you.” Beomgyu was sure and he couldn’t just tease the elder like he usually would, because he felt genuinely worried about Yeonjun.
“No, I’m fine, really,” said Yeonjun. But his lips pouted like a duck, signaling something was cruelly torturing his mind. Or maybe, the overwork had taken its toll on him. “I think I just need some rest.”
“Yeah, we’re having two comebacks in the span of four months, while constantly touring, and right now, you’re already planning for your solo comeback while we’re preparing for our Japanese comeback next month. Of course, you need to rest,” said Beomgyu, taking a seat beside the oddly behaving hyung. But he knew, deep down, it wasn’t just the whole work thing that cracked Yeonjun.
As far as Beomgyu had known Yeonjun, he knew that the elder never behaved like that unless it’s a personal thing. The last time Yeonjun constantly zoned out was when his pet dog that had lived with him for basically his entire life passed, because he didn’t know how to handle the mourning until Soobin took him in and held him so he could cry until he shook away all the sadness and to reminisce his beloved with the joy of nostalgia. The other time Yeonjun would keep on daydreaming was when someone recently harassed him and he genuinely didn’t know how to react—not because he was stupid but rather because he was shocked—so the whole team and the managers, lead by Soobin, stood beside him to overpower the culprit. And the only other time Yeonjun had ever behaved that way was when he was questioning his sexuality, so the whole team had to console him and Soobin would always sit beside him in silence, just to ease the dread he was feeling. Therefore, Beomgyu concluded something must’ve happened, or something must’ve been causing chaos in Yeonjun’s head, messing him up so badly that he couldn’t concentrate on the very thing he loved the most.
“But that’s not what it’s all about, is it?” scoffed Beomgyu. It’s like he had this sixth sense. Or perhaps, he was just insanely observant and analytical, something about being hyperaware of the situation surrounding him.
“No, I— yeah.” Yeonjun knew there was no way he could avoid those interrogating lips. He really wished his legs weren’t shaking like jelly by then so he could run away from those four walls, escaping the questions Beomgyu pushed towards him. While Yeonjun knew Beomgyu intended well, he also felt suffocated. “I don’t even know what’s going on.”
“You don’t have to tell me about it, if you don’t want to, hyung,” answered Beomgyu. “But don’t you think your heart will feel better after opening up about it?”
It was a safe space, really. The dance practice room only had the two of them. The door was also locked. It was basically a private haven, especially since there were no prying eyes—not even the CCTVs because their wires had just recently been eaten by rats—and curious ears and recorders.
“I’m turning twenty six,” replied Yeonjun. “I think it’s a bit unrealistic for me to have a crush, or worse, fall in love with someone.” He sighed. His eyes shifted towards the mirror, showing a reflection of him, and Beomgyu, sitting barely alive on the black leather couch. “But somehow the more I avoid it, the more intense I feel towards him and I—”
“Soobin hyung?” asked Beomgyu, eyes suddenly looking towards Yeonjun. He already suspected it for years, even since the trainee days. He’d seen Yeonjun making out with girls or guys, outside and in their dorms, but he knew Yeonjun only did it for the funsies and never was serious about how he felt. And it was occasional too. And he always regretted it at the end, somehow feeling guilty for betraying his own feeling and someone else he never mentioned, though he never made it to hook up sessions. There's no way an infatuation would cause that, because the cycle had gone for so long, only much more intense for the last couple months with Yeonjun not even giving himself to do casual make outs out of some kind of guilt. Yeonjun was good at keeping secrets, but Beomgyu apparently had some kind of instinct that could unlock and pry open the other’s secrets, even unintentionally.
And besides, Beomgyu already knew the answers to all Yeonjun's question had led the elder into having a one comically large question, a crisis he denied continuously.
The tips of Yeonjun’s ears turned a bit pink. He didn’t know which one was more embarrassing: admitting you have a crush or even in love with someone to your younger brother, or having your younger brother guessing it correctly immediately like he had been noticing it from the start. He bit his lips, trying to swallow down the embarrassment. Fuck.
“It’s Soobin hyung, right?” Beomgyu squinted his eyes.
Yeonjun’s body stiffened, as though Beomgyu’s words were a trigger that pulled taut every nerve in him. His gaze fell to the floor, darting away from the mirror, away from Beomgyu’s sharp eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice lower than usual, almost defensive.
Beomgyu tilted his head, unbothered by the elder’s weak attempt to deflect. “Hyung,” he said softly, but firmly enough to demand attention. “You think I don’t see the way you look at him? Or the way you get weirdly quiet when he’s around lately like you’ve gotten some kind of epiphany after you literally used to cuddle him to sleep and kiss his forehead before going on stage? You’ve been doing that for some time now. Honestly, I don’t know how the others haven’t figured it out yet.”
Yeonjun groaned and buried his face in his palms. “Fuck, Gyu. Can you not—”
“I’m not teasing,” Beomgyu interrupted, his tone uncharacteristically steady. “I’m worried. Because whatever this is—it’s eating you alive.” The younger sighed. “During Soobin hyung’s break, I called him the most, not only because I missed him a lot but because I’m also worried about you,” he confessed. “You barely called or texted Soobin hyung, but you kept on daydreaming too that you almost burned yourself with the hot coffee you make every morning. Whenever we pass pictures with Soobin, you would stare at him, as if trying to get him out of that picture and walk with you to the office. You never said it out loud, but your acts spoke way louder than it’s supposed to.”
Yeonjun’s head dropped back against the couch, his hands still covering his face. His chest tightened at Beomgyu’s words, at how bare he suddenly felt under the younger’s gaze. He wasn’t used to being read so easily, so precisely—it was both terrifying and relieving at the same time.
He remembered how during Soobin’s hiatus, Beomgyu would convince him to get on the phone with Soobin, but he would always run away–because he was scared of being awkward or revealing so much of his true self–and played it off as he was being busy or too tired. He remembered how during their break, Beomgyu would call the whole group chat and tell them how much he missed all of them, but Soobin and him barely exchanged words, just flowing with the dynamic of the group and their conversations about Taehyun’s constant trips everywhere around the world. He remembered how when finally Soobin reunited with them in their dorms, Yeonjun couldn’t say a word and he just stiffly hugged Soobin even though his body and heart was yearning and screaming for more and more of Soobin.
“Gyu…” his voice cracked, softer than he intended. He let his palms slide down, finally revealing his face, though his eyes remained glued to the ceiling as if it might swallow him whole.
Beomgyu leaned back, crossing his arms but never breaking eye contact. “Maybe I’m being too observant. Or maybe you’re just too obvious.” His lips quirked up, though his tone stayed serious. “You think you’re hiding it, hyung, but you’re not. At least not from me.”
A bitter laugh escaped Yeonjun’s throat, dry and humorless. “What the hell am I supposed to do, then? Huh? Just… admit it? Like it’s that easy?” He sat up suddenly, elbows on his knees, fingers threading through his blond-and-black hair. “This is Soobin we’re talking about. My leader. My best friend. My—” He cut himself off before the word could slip, biting it down like it might kill him if it left his mouth.
Beomgyu watched him quietly, giving him space, but his silence was heavy—expectant.
“My everything,” Yeonjun whispered finally, almost too soft for even himself to hear. His throat burned with the confession, like it was something poisonous he wasn’t supposed to say. He was terrified. “And if I ruin that, I ruin everything. The group, our bond, the years we’ve spent building all of this. I can’t be selfish, Gyu. I can’t risk it.”
There's so much things running in Yeonjun's mind. All the risks and disasters he would bring to their group. All the kinds of troubles he would cause Soobin. All the things that would lead them into some sort of chaos. And Yeonjun would be at the centre of the fault.
For a long moment, the room was quiet except for their breathing and the faint hum of the AC. Then Beomgyu leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. His eyes softened, losing that sharpness he always carried when poking fun at the world. “Hyung, you’ve always carried everyone on your back. Always. But… don’t you think you deserve someone who carries you too?” It's scary when Beomgyu became the voice of reason, but it happened somehow.
Yeonjun’s breath hitched. He always did carry everything on his own. He was an only child, so he didn’t have siblings to share his burdens with. He debuted solo the quickest and had to do everything on his own even though his members supported him a lot. He was the oldest in his group, and even though Soobin was the leader, he couldn’t help but try to carry some of Soobin’s burdens in fear of losing the younger in the stress of the position he was in.
“I’m not saying you have to confess, or do anything reckless,” Beomgyu continued gently. “I’m just saying… maybe stop punishing yourself for feeling. You’re human, hyung, and not just the idol Choi Yeonjun. You’re first and foremost yourself, and you are allowed to love.”
The words landed like a blow and a balm all at once. Yeonjun’s hands trembled where they rested on his knees, his head dropping forward as he exhaled shakily. He wanted to believe Beomgyu—wanted to let himself breathe, to let himself want—but the weight of fear was too ingrained, too habitual.
"Thanks, Gyu," replied Yeonjun. "I'll think about it, but now let's call off the practice. I think I'm just going to continue working on my new song."
✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮
“Yeonjun hyung?” A small voice suddenly called Yeonjun from out of the studio. “You’re still here?”
Yeonjun immediately took off the headphones that bent around his freshly dyed red hair, because he just recently box dyed it by himself in his studio’s bathroom—call him crazy all you want, but dying hair was the only therapeutic and familiar thing Yeonjun could find himself doing.
He turned around to find a familiar electric blue haired boy peeking in from outside the door. It's Taehyun. To Yeonjun, despite looking insanely charismatic and undoubtedly hot with his built body on stage, Taehyun was still a child and the image of how adorable he was still lingered in his mind.
“Hmm,” hummed Yeonjun. His eyes shifted back to the monitor that was constantly replaying the demo he just recorded and the time on the lower right corner that said 11:38 P.M. Then, he turned back towards Taehyun who already got himself cozy on his studio couch. “Aren’t you supposed to be home by now? Our nutritionist just told you to get as much rest as possible if you’re not practicing or working out before the tour resumes, didn’t she?”
“Yeah,” replied the younger. “But ‘m too lazy.”
“Why?” Yeonjun chuckled as he let his sight drift towards the monitor once again. He tried to maintain the focus between his counterpart and his work. Though it instantly fell apart as Taehyun answered his question.
“Soobin hyung will look for you,” said Taehyun. “He could’ve just texted you but he keeps on nagging me and telling me how much he misses you all the damn time.” He sighed. “I’m pretty sure Gyu and Kai are sick of it too.”
Yeonjun’s chest tightened at the mention of Soobin. It was ridiculous how his name could still cause the same rush through his veins as a shot of adrenaline, no matter how many times he’d heard it in the span of a day, or his life, even. He let his tongue press against the inside of his cheek, feigning indifference as he twirled the swivel chair to face Taehyun fully.
Soobin could do better than worry about someone as pathetic as him, or so Yeonjun thought to himself. But at the same time, he found himself cooing over that fact in his head, behind his coy smile, taking the endearments to his heart, although not very much aware on what to do about it.
The elder had been working himself to death, lately. He knew it as well, because he was doing it purposefully as to avoid contact with what (or more of whom) he was too afraid of to face. Sure, Yeonjun had always been a hard worker. He had always been that kind of perfectionist, and that kind who would try his best in spite of anything that could try and bring him down. He’s diligent, he’s persistent, he’s independent, and he loved the hell out of his job. But lately, it’d been different.
Yeonjun had known Soobin practically his whole teenage and adult life. He met the younger during their trainee years, and as far as he remembered, he completely changed yet stayed the exact same: used to be the shy, timid boy who couldn’t look at Yeonjun in his eyes despite only being a year younger than him, but grew up into the kind of man who would always fall into Yeonjun’s embrace no matter how much effort it took to be there, but still the same Soobin who would watch Yeonjun in awe and with so much wonder. But lately, feelings had Yeonjun wrapped up in some kind of dilemma, pondering at how peculiar it had been.
And Yeonjun was vulnerable.
It was scary.
Though Yeonjun had always known he admired the leader, lately it had bloomed into something that both fascinated and horrified him. So, he tried to deny those feelings. But during the days he couldn't hide it, the emotions overwhelm him, heightening his senses to insanity.
Yeonjun never thought he could fall in love with someone he lived with so long, he had been so close with for so long. Some people would say knowing someone to well would make you lose all sorts of possible interest, unless there's an initial attraction. But Yeonjun himself didn't know when his feeling started. Because the more Yeonjun knew Soobin, the more he felt like an invisible string pulling him towards the latter.
“He nags you?” Yeonjun asked, raising an eyebrow, his voice deliberately casual, though his lungs fervent.
Taehyun nodded, leaning further into the couch, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. “All the time. Like, every hour. ‘Where’s hyung?’ ‘Did you see hyung?’ ‘Do you think hyung’s eating?’ It’s almost scary. I told him once he sounds like a worried housewife, and he didn’t even deny it. He just shrugged.”
The redhead’s lips tugged up into a laugh, though it came out quieter than intended, almost drowned out by the hum of the studio equipment. “He’s unbelievable.”
The younger cracked an eye open, noticing the way Yeonjun’s laugh didn’t quite reach his eyes. “He cares about you, hyung. You know that, right?”
Yeonjun swallowed hard. The words hit too close, as if Taehyun had peeled back a layer that he’d been carefully wrapping around himself. He didn’t want to admit that he knew—too well, in fact. He could feel Soobin’s care in the way the younger’s eyes lingered on him during practice, in the way he always saved a seat for him at the table, in the way his hugs felt less like comfort and more like salvation. He could feel Soobin’s care in the way he would always let him sleep on his thighs despite him being overly sensitive to tickles. He could feel Soobin’s care as if it’s a part of his blood flow that he couldn’t resist, that he couldn’t outgrow.
“Yeah, I know,” Yeonjun replied finally, forcing his lips into a small smile. “That’s just… Soobin being Soobin.” He gulped. “That’s why we all collectively chose him as a leader years ago, right?”
And while Yeonjun wasn’t fully wrong, he knew deep down it wasn’t just that. But he was trying, and hell, was he trying his damn best, his fucking hardest to push down those kinds of hopes. If there’s anything in this world Yeonjun wasn’t willing to let go off, it’s his friendship with Soobin and god forbids he became the very reason it happened.
“Sure, hyung,” Taehyun muttered sarcastically, closing his eyes again. “Soobin hyung being Soobin.” He huffed. "I don't think I've ever heard him talking about people in such way other than you." Taehyun said it as if Yeonjun had taken so much space in Soobin's mind, Soobin's heart even.
Yeonjun exhaled, dragging a hand over his face. He hated how transparent he felt, hated how his heart betrayed him at the smallest mention of Soobin. It was pathetic, really, how someone so praised for his poise on stage could crumble so easily when the stage lights were gone and the only name echoing in his chest was the one he dared not say too loud. The teenage years had gone by so long Yeonjun had forgotten how the fabric of his uniform felt like, but he remembered how it felt to be in love in that body in that age, and it felt exactly the same as he was head over heels for the leader of his group, and while it seemed funny for him, it also felt terrifying. There was a gap in his heart he strongly felt the urge to fill in and it was Soobin shaped.
The cacophony in his head started to ring again.
Yeonjun fell into the spiral, once again, so all he could do was distract himself for some while deep into his art.
✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮
Yeonjun went back home with Taehyun after that conversation, arriving past midnight. He decided to walk home with the younger, feeling the night wind carress him after so long he hadn't gotten outdoors.
The moment they were in their dorms, Taehyun immediately ran and reached for his towel from the hanger on the balcony, before swiftly going to take a shower in the shared bathroom, because it seemed like he had forgotten Yeonjun had his own bathroom as perks of having the main bedroom from winning rock paper scissors when they moved in to their new dorm apartment. Beomgyu was playing Super Mario with Kai in Kai’s bedroom as Yeonjun heard their stupid arguments and the faint background music playing from Kai’s bedroom.
But Soobin was nowhere to be found.
He’s probably asleep or reading.
Yeonjun gulped.
Why am I looking for Soobin? Is this some kind of automated response when I get home?
Yeonjun tried to not think too much before entering his bedroom. It was dark and cold, the same way he left it in. He instantly took off his hoodie and pants, revealing his bare body wrapped in a tight tank top and his boxers. But the moment he turned on the lights, the sight of Soobin scrolling on his Instagram under his blanket surprised him.
The redhead froze at the doorframe, one hand still clutching his hoodie mid-air. His heart thudded as if he had just been caught sneaking into someone else’s room, when in fact it was his room—his bed, his blanket, his lamp lighting the space dimly golden. His back leaned at the door, locking it instantly on accident.
Soobin glanced up, not startled, not guilty, just calmly acknowledging him with those soft innocent eyes that seemed to disarm Yeonjun every single time. He seemed to be enjoying himself as he usually was, probably not wearing anything under that blanket except his boxers. “You’re late,” he murmured, voice low and raspy from either sleep or disuse.
Yeonjun blinked, mind blank for a second. “You’re… in my bed.” It came out sharper than intended, more accusation than observation.
Soobin shrugged lightly, his blanket cocoon pulled closer around his frame. “Yours is warmer.”
The redhead let out a breathy, incredulous laugh, dragging a hand over his face. “Binnie, you have your own bed.”
“And?” Soobin tilted his head, feigning innocence. “You weren’t using this one.”
Silence creeped in, but before it settled, Soobin continued without taking his eyes off his phone, “Also, red looks good on you.”
“…Thanks?” Yeonjun walked in slowly as he dropped his hoodie onto the chair by his desk and stood there, awkwardly, like a stranger in his own room. “You should’ve… told me if you…wanted to stay here. Did you not move at all from this bed since this morning?”
"I did. I just found myself back here then." Soobin’s gaze lingered on him longer than necessary, tracing over the faint tired lines on his face, the new tint of his hair, the way his shoulders drooped under exhaustion. Then, almost too gently: “Would you have said no if I asked you if I could stay?”
The question pierced through Yeonjun, so sudden it left him defenseless. He swallowed, hard. His lips parted, but no sound came out. Would he? Could he? The thought of Soobin lying here, in his space, under his blanket—it was too intimate, too dangerous, yet also the one thing his heart had been begging for.
The younger put away his phone and shoved it under the pillow. He moved himself a bit and opened a part of the blanket to reveal the empty space beside him. “Come here,” he invited as he patted the mattress. There was something to domestic in how Soobin just casually asked him to lay there, like all their sworn secrecy being stripped bare into nothing but pieces of themselves. And it terrified Yeonjun.
Yeonjun’s breath caught. The rational part of him screamed to decline, to run, to set boundaries before the lines blurred any further. But the ache inside him, the exhaustion, the longing—all of it pushed him forward. Slowly, hesitantly, he crossed the room and slipped under the blanket, the mattress dipping with his weight.
The warmth enveloped him instantly. The scent of Soobin—faint shampoo, laundry soap, and something inherently his—wrapped tighter than the blanket itself. They lay there in silence, shoulders brushing, breaths mingling in the quiet.
It’s not supposed to be awkward, frankly. They both had shared the same bed and seen each other naked countless times before. But somehow it felt different. And the reality of the heartfelt feeling felt like a slap across his face without a warning sign.
Yeonjun’s heart pounded so violently he was sure Soobin could hear it.
“See?” Soobin whispered, turning just enough for their eyes to meet. “Warmer.”
Yeonjun forced a chuckle, though it cracked under the weight of the moment. “You’re unbelievable.”
But the truth was, he didn’t want to believe anything else.
Yeonjun knew he wasn’t a horrible person. In fact, he thought of himself to be great, although sometimes the insecurities got into him and humbled him by lots. But he also knew he wasn’t very much capable of maintaining relationships, or at least that’s what he thought. And the fact that he had never really been in a serious commitment with anyone ever in his life added to the weight of his thoughts of himself. He was attractive and nice, sure, and he was talented and fun, sure, but it’s superficial. He thought of the possibilities of holding someone’s hand for their entire lives as something so far from what’s real, and that his imperfections would stop anyone from going that far to pursue him or be pursued by him. Let alone holding Soobin’s hand, watching him as he sleeps the way it was for him then.
He was scared to put a name on whatever it was, something so sacred, something so real.
His spiraling thoughts paused for a brief moment as Soobin moved closer towards him. They were then facing one another and Soobin reached for Yeonjun’s hand, filling the gaps between his fingers by intertwining them with his own fingers. He carefully caressed Yeonjun’s hair with his other hand, then tracing it down to his jawline, as if admiring some kind of fragile masterpiece of a figure. His finger continued to trace down behind his neck, as if counting the moles like stars in a constellation, all while his gaze never leaving the elder. They were so close, and Soobin could feel himself intoxicated because of Yeonjun’s presence.
“Can we cuddle tonight, Yeonjun hyung? I’m scared you’d leave me like my dreams last night.”
The words jabbed Yeonjun straight to his heart. There was no way he could leave Soobin, not ever under any circumstances. Quite the opposite, really, he thought Soobin should leave him. Soobin should leave the flawed being that he was. Soobin should find someone that could match him perfectly, be someone more precious than he was. Sure, Choi Yeonjun was a star and that was a fact he would never deny, but Soobin was too good to be true and ultimately too good for someone just like him. Yeonjun loved Soobin and he felt himself not being able to contain it anymore.
Yeonjun sucked a deep breath. His lungs ached with the weight of it. The air between them felt too thick, every inhale tasting like temptation, every exhale laced with fear. Soobin’s hand in his, warm and steady, felt like an anchor—and yet, it also felt like a chain dragging him toward a truth he’d been running from. Yeonjun looked at Soobin, really looked at everything he craved and feared all at once.
“Binnie…” Yeonjun’s voice cracked, hushed, as though even the walls might betray him if he spoke too loudly. His thumb twitched against Soobin’s knuckles, betraying the storm inside him. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“We have grown up so much, haven’t we?” Soobin flipped himself to look at the ceilings, hands moving to lay clasped on his own chest. “We used to cuddle a lot back in the days. Now, it’s weird for you to even look at me without looking away after ten seconds.” He bit his lips. "Is it just me or are we more distant nowadays?"
“Soobin-ah…”
"Maybe on cameras, it'd be weird for our fans, but it's fine. Even if it's not, I'll try to feel fine about it. But off cameras too?" He choked on a small sad laughter. Soobin turned towards Yeonjun, still with a smile on his face, although his eyes were a little glassy. “It’s okay, hyung, setting boundaries is great. I'm sorry if I'm being insufferable," his voice cracked. "You should—”
Fuck it. Yeonjun grabbed Soobin by his chin, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips, having the younger widen his eyes from the shock. He wanted to be selfish. His incoherent mind didn’t function well enough anyways, so fuck it. He didn’t care anymore.
“Soobin, baby, I’m in love with you, and I don't know how to handle being in love with you,” confessed Yeonjun. His eyes blinked a couple times, his mind trying to find the right words out of the jumbled alphabet soup. “I don’t know when it had started, but the moment I realized it I was already in the middle of it and it feels like an unstoppable train. So, Soobin, I’m sorry—”
Before Yeonjun could continue, Soobin pulled the elder and kissed him instead. His lips pressed deeper, and his hand lead by pulling Yeonjun in from the back of his neck. Their lips were quivering as it happened, not because they were inexperienced, but from the fact that it’s each other’s embrace they were in at that moment.
The gap between them that was once begging to be closed finally got relieved.
Yeonjun’s world spun, not from exhaustion this time, but from the sheer intensity of Soobin’s lips on his. Every nerve in his body screamed awake, his heart hammering so wildly he was sure it would bruise against his ribs.
It wasn’t gentle anymore—it was desperate. As though Soobin had been waiting, holding back, afraid to let it slip, until Yeonjun cracked the seal and gave him permission to feel out loud. Their mouths clashed and melted, the air between them charged, each breath stolen and returned. The world seemed to cease to exist around them.
The elder tried to not drown himself in the moment, getting carried by it like a river flow. But he could taste the faint bitterness of Soobin’s lip balm, could feel the tremor in the younger’s hand as it cupped his jaw tighter, unwilling to let him pull away And yet, Yeonjun’s mind betrayed him. This is wrong, but so right. This is dangerous. This is everything. At the same time Yeonjun thought of the reciprocation, he thought of how Soobin deserved better.
When they finally broke apart, both gasping, the silence roared louder than any scream. Soobin’s forehead rested against his, their noses brushing as their breaths tangled together in the tiny space left.
“Don’t apologize,” Soobin whispered, his voice raw and trembling, his eyes shimmering under the dim lamp light. “If you do, it means you regret it.”
Yeonjun froze. He wanted to speak, to soothe, to promise. But all he could do was clutch tighter, as though Soobin might slip away if he let go even an inch.
“I can’t regret you,” he admitted hoarsely. “Not when I’ve been in love with you for so long it hurts to breathe.”
Soobin’s lips curved, small but radiant, like dawn breaking through storm clouds. He leaned in again, not for another kiss, but for something quieter, gentler—his hand brushing Yeonjun’s hair back, his thumb grazing his cheekbone.
“You think I never noticed that?” His gaze sharp, as if diving into Yeonjun’s eyes. “I’ve been in love with you too, hyung. I don't remember how it started but one day I woke up and realized I don't want to spend even a day without hearing your nagging or looking at you admiring yourself in the mirror or having you hit my back after I choke and cough. I wished you could've seen it sooner.”
“But you deserve better.”
“No one could be better than you.”
Yeonjun’s breath hitched, chest tightening at the sincerity in Soobin’s tone. For a moment, he forgot how to exist—forgot the weight of the world on his shoulders, forgot the unspoken rules that bound them, forgot the millions of eyes waiting outside their doors. All that remained was Soobin. The curve of his lips, the conviction in his voice, the way his hand stayed firm against Yeonjun’s jaw as if he were afraid he might disappear.
Yeonjun wanted to argue again. He wanted to insist that Soobin was too precious, too pure, too good for someone like him, who was flawed and scarred and drowning under the weight of expectations. But the younger’s gaze cut through every excuse, every wall he had built. There was no room left for denial when Soobin was looking at him like that—with devotion so unyielding it could burn him alive.
Instead, Yeonjun whispered, almost trembling, “You don’t know how dangerous this is.”
Soobin smiled faintly, his thumb brushing against Yeonjun’s cheek as if soothing him. “I know exactly how dangerous it is. But I’d rather take the risk than spend another day pretending I don’t feel this way.” His voice wavered only slightly, but the strength in his words was unshakable. “Hyung, I’d rather lose the world than lose you.”
The room spun again, but not from fear this time—from the staggering force of Soobin’s confession. Yeonjun felt himself unravel, threads he had been desperately holding together for years snapping loose all at once. He pressed his forehead harder against Soobin’s, closing his eyes as if to hide from the enormity of it all.
“I’m scared I’ll ruin everything,” Yeonjun breathed, half a plea, half a prayer.
Soobin chuckled softly, though his voice was thick with emotion. “You wouldn’t,” he said, “but if you do, then let me be ruined with you.”
And before Yeonjun could respond, Soobin leaned in again, sealing the promise with another kiss—this one slower, deeper, less frantic but no less consuming. It was the kind of kiss that carved itself into bone, like an inscription, the kind that told Yeonjun there was no going back.
For once, Yeonjun didn’t want to go back.
And he didn’t have to. Not with Soobin embracing him and vice versa.