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The hiss of the shower finally cut off, replaced by the muffled sound of someone whistling behind the bathroom door. A few seconds later it creaked open, and Xinlong stepped out—ash-brown hair still damp, droplets sliding down onto the plain black tee he’d thrown on. A dark gray towel sat haphazardly on top of his head, doing a pretty shitty job at drying him off while he stood there, gaze locked straight ahead.
Across the room, perched on the edge of his bed, Yumeki sat with his head bowed, eyes fixed on the floor like it held all the answers to life. Under the cheap glow of the overhead light, he looked stupidly beautiful, so soft Xinlong almost forgot how to breathe.
Xinlong padded forward until he was standing right in front of him. Vanilla sweetness clung to Yumeki’s skin, mixing with the citrus bite of his own cologne. It was like someone had smashed together orange cake with vanilla frosting—too on-the-nose for how they fit together.
When Yumeki finally glanced up, he gave him the tiniest smile.
“What’s wrong?” Xinlong asked, running his fingers gently through Yumeki’s hair.
Yumeki shook his head, shutting his eyes like he just wanted to sink into the touch. His voice was quiet, guilty. “...Sorry.”
Xinlong blinked. “Sorry? For what?”
He glanced around the room, half-expecting to find something Yumeki had knocked over. But nope—the place was spotless. Nothing broken, nothing wrong.
Yumeki chuckled at his confusion, caught his hand, and pressed it against his cheek. He leaned into it like a damn cat finding its favorite sunbeam. “Your score was lower than mine. I’m sorry. You should’ve gotten more. You deserved more.”
Xinlong’s lips tugged into a smile, his chest going all warm at the sight of Yumeki melting into his palm.
“Why the hell are you apologizing for that?” he murmured. “Hyung, you deserve that score. You deserve even higher, honestly. Don’t you dare say sorry. If you ever end up last place again, I’ll blame myself, not you.”
When Yumeki opened his eyes again, they were already glassy. Tears clung to his lashes, catching the light and making him look devastatingly pretty.
Xinlong bent down, tilting his chin up before kissing him softly. “You deserve your score.”
He pulled back just slightly, thumb brushing away a tear. “You deserve every bit of love you’ve gotten.”
Another kiss, firmer this time. Yumeki’s tears finally spilled, and he grabbed onto Xinlong’s shoulders like a lifeline, tugging him back in for more. Their mouths met again and again, slow and tender, saying all the shit words couldn’t cover. Yumeki’s arms looped around his neck, Xinlong’s hands cradled his face, and they kissed like they had all the time in the world.
Xinlong tilted his head, deepening the kiss as he carefully guided Yumeki down onto the mattress.
When he finally pulled away, Yumeki’s face was flushed, eyes swollen from crying, nose pink and runny. He honestly looked like he had a cold—and somehow that made him even cuter. Xinlong snorted, swiping at the fresh tears. “Shh, don’t cry, hyung.”
He leaned in again, ready to kiss him stupid, when the door creaked open. Xinlong practically flung himself upright at the edge of the bed, heart punching out of his chest.
ChingYu stood there, squinting suspiciously.
“WHY IS YUMEKI HYUNG CRYING?!”
Yumeki shot up too, plastering on the fakest cheerful smile ever. “It’s nothing, kiddo. Hyung’s just happy I got a high score.”
ChingYu nodded solemnly, then barged straight in like Xinlong wasn’t even there. He climbed onto the bed, plopping himself right next to Yumeki, which meant Xinlong had to scoot all the way to the corner, practically falling off.
Xinlong groaned and gave up, retreating to his own bed. Fine. The sooner ChingYu dumps all his whining, the sooner I get Yumeki back. Unless he decides to sleep here…
“Hyuuuung, I’m tired!” ChingYu whined, throwing himself against Yumeki like a toddler.
Of course, Yumeki just smiled warmly and hugged him, letting the kid bury his face in his chest. From across the room, Xinlong glared daggers.
“Why didn’t you pick me, hyung? I wanted to be in your team,” ChingYu pouted, lips jutting out ridiculously.
“Oh, if it were only up to me, I’d have picked you right away,” Yumeki explained softly. “But in Lucky MACHO, it wasn’t just my choice. Everyone voted, and we thought Junil was the best fit. Besides, you killed it in Main Dish.”
“I don’t care… I just wanted to be with you,” ChingYu mumbled, burrowing deeper. Then, muffled: “Bet it was Xinlong who didn’t want me with you.”
Xinlong sat up, scandalized. “Excuse me?!”
Yumeki just laughed, patting ChingYu’s back. He shook his head at Xinlong’s grumpy scowl, totally missing the way ChingYu peeked out to stick his tongue out at Xinlong in triumph.
“It wasn’t Xinlong’s fault, kid. We decided together.”
ChingYu only snuggled closer, grumbling, “Still don’t accept it. I wanted to be in your team.”
“Hey, don’t say that.” Yumeki’s voice dropped, soft and patient. “We voted for what’s best, not because we didn’t want you. You’ll shine on your own, even if you’re not always next to me.”
ChingYu shook his head stubbornly, practically suffocating him. Yumeki just stroked his back, soothing like he was calming a fussy toddler.
Footsteps shuffled at the door. Yunseo appeared, looking wrecked—face scrunched, lips downturned, eyes heavy. He’d come to whine to Xinlong, his usual older-brother figure, about the nightmare of being lead performance. But the moment he spotted ChingYu glued to Yumeki, he veered right.
Instead of Xinlong, he dropped onto the other side of the bed, laying his head straight in Yumeki’s lap. Xinlong’s jaw unhinged in pure betrayal. Was he pissed Yunseo picked Yumeki over him, or just jealous that those goddamn thighs were being used as a pillow? He honestly couldn’t tell.
“Ugh, Yumeki Hyung…” Yunseo’s voice cracked, shaky with tears. “I’m so tired. Even though I’m the youngest, I had to be lead. And then today… I even got the lowest score out of my team member. The mentors said we sucked… Everyone’s expectations were on me, but I didn’t even have time to practice for myself. I’m just… so exhausted.”
Yumeki’s eyes softened, hand immediately brushing away Yunseo’s tears. His voice went quiet. “You worked so hard. Don’t blame yourself. Hyung’s been there too.”
Yunseo blinked up at him, surprised.
“In the last battle, when I was in Tambourine team,” Yumeki continued with a wry smile, “I carried the most, kept everyone going. But guess what? I ended up with the lowest score. It hurt, yeah. But I learned something—it’s not just about numbers. It’s about how we keep the team standing till the end.”
Yunseo burst into tears again, and ChingYu quieted down too, clinging tighter. The two of them wrapped around Yumeki like baby chicks around their mother hen.
Xinlong just sat frozen in his bed, heart twisting. He’s an angel. God, he’s gorgeous when he’s like this… but I want him to hold me too.
Time slipped by. ChingYu, stubborn little gremlin, was the first to knock out, still clinging tight. Yunseo followed not long after, face buried in Yumeki’s shoulder. Yumeki was stuck in the middle, barely able to breathe, but he just held them both anyway.
Finally, Xinlong stood, carefully lifting Yunseo first, then ChingYu, and carrying them one by one onto his own bed. He moved slow, delicate, making sure neither stirred.
When he was done, he came back to Yumeki.
“Tired of babysitting?” he teased with a small laugh.
Yumeki turned to him, smiling faintly despite how drained he looked. “It’s fine. They’re kids. They just need advice… and love.”
Without another word, Xinlong slipped into the bed beside him. Finally, it was just the two of them again.
He pulled Yumeki close, pressing their foreheads together. His grin was soft, smug, completely different from the sulky scowl he’d worn earlier. His arms curled tight around Yumeki’s waist, eyes glued to that gorgeous face. Their breaths mingled in the quiet.
“Good job today, hyung,” he whispered.
Their lips met again—warm, unhurried, like morning tea after a long night.
Yumeki’s hand rested against his chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat under her palm. Falling in love all over again, every second.
They kissed carefully, mindful of the two sleeping brats across the room.
Every time Yumeki pulled back for air, Xinlong just stared at him and smiled. No words, just breaths that said everything love could.
He brushed a damp strand of hair from Yumeki’s face with a sigh, like he’d finally gotten what he’d been chasing. One arm still looped tight around his waist, the other tracing every feature—forehead, eyes, nose, cheeks, jaw, lips. Every part of him perfect.
“Hyung, even if I had the lowest score out of everyone, I’d still thank you for being this pretty.”
“Ugh, cheesy.”
Xinlong gasped. “Cheesy?! I’m being serious!”
“Go to sleep already.”
“Hyung—I mean it!”
“Shh, you’ll wake them up.”
“Hyuuung~”
“Xinlong, cut it out. You’re not Yunseo—you’re too old for this.”
The end.