Chapter Text
Seonghyeon doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever cried this much. It’s stupid, truly. Who cries over a stupid, unrequited crush on a boy in this day and age?
To his credit, however, he has had feelings for Ahn Keonho for over a decade now. So, sue him for crying over the guy of his dreams.
His brain is fuzzy, probably from the hours he has spent sobbing into his pillow as soon as he rushed home from school after hearing the news that Keonho and Martin— yes, Edwards Martin— are official. Together. In a relationship.
Seonghyeon had tried so hard to not break the already trembling smile on his lips when Keonho had happily broken the “awesome” news to him.
There used to be a time where he shared every single happiness with Keonho, no matter big or small, and no matter how stupid it was. Now, however, Seonghyeon can’t find it in himself to feel an ounce of happiness for his childhood best friend.
Keonho had said something about him pulling Martin over after one of their club sessions last week, asked him out to prom, the taller boy said yes, and they’ve been boyfriends ever since.
Seonghyeon’s heart hasn’t stopped hurting either. It feels like the ache in his chest has been there forever since the evening he booked it home after mumbling a quick excuse of household chores and leaving the clubroom five minutes earlier.
Nobody knows, except himself, that Eom Seonghyeon had been harbouring (unrequited) feelings for golden boy, sunny and shit, Ahn Keonho.
The worst thing was that he didn’t even know Keonho was confessing to Martin.
Ever since becoming best friends when they were only a single digit old, they’ve told each other everything. And by everything, he means literally every single thing. What happened at school today, what frustrations both of them were having, what funny joke they heard today— they shared everything with each other and talked about anything that’s under the sun.
And now?
Seonghyeon doesn’t even want to know what it means for Keonho to not tell him anything about his crush for Martin and confessing to him out of the blue.
To be fair, crushes are awkward to talk about, even when it’s with a best friend. Seonghyeon silently wonders if he’s selfish for wanting Keonho to tell him everything, every nook and cranny of his day, his brain, his feelings, his everything. He wants to lock up every word in a safe within his heart and replay it in his mind everyday without fail.
But, really, what can Seonghyeon do at this moment? He wasn’t there when Keonho confessed his love to Martin, he wasn’t there when Martin said yes and they became official boyfriends.
He was there when they arrived at the clubroom holding hands, though.
And that shattered his heart more than he’d like to admit.
Seonghyeon presses his hands against his eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming, but they only come faster, warmer, as if his body refuses to let go of the hurt. The taut knot in his chest continues to linger like a harsh sting, and he can’t help but think:
This is so fucking embarrassing.
It’s humiliating to cry like this. He hates crying like this, even. He hates how weak he feels when he lets go of his feelings and just sobs without constraints into his pillow. He hates that Edwards Martin exists and is now holding the one person Seonghyeon had loved without reserve for ten years.
But then again, how can he hate Martin when Keonho looks at him like he hung the stars and the moon in the sky?
It’s as if a star is awakened in Keonho’s eyes every single time he looks fondly at Martin, and Seonghyeon sobs harder.
He remembers Keonho had excitedly announced to every single club member, grasping onto Martin’s hand as if he was never going to let go, that they were dating. He distinctly recalls the sharp surprised gasps that rang through the room when the words finally registered, and the positive reactions that were garnered weren’t unexpected.
The other members are supportive of their newly wed relationship, they voiced out their congratulations and even clapped for the two, welcoming the lovebirds.
Keonho, oh Keonho, had just gripped Martin’s hand tighter, and kissed him on the cheek lightly. Barely a brush of the lips but Seonghyeon had lost his composure by then, excused himself and raced back home.
If he stayed at the clubroom any longer, he might have started crying right there and then.
And yet, somewhere deep inside, Seonghyeon can’t entirely hate Keonho. That’s the cruelest part. Because Keonho is still Keonho, sunny, oblivious, always kind, always glowing even when Seonghyeon wants to hurt but Keonho won’t allow that.
Even now, even though his best friend is apparently in love with someone else, the thought of Keonho smiling that stupid grin makes Seonghyeon fall in love with him even more.
Really, how pathetic is he?
He rolls onto his side, clutching the fox plushie Keonho had gotten for him a few months ago at an arcade. It was one of the happiest times in Seonghyeon’s life, being able to be together with his best friend and crush alone. But Keonho will never know that because he’s dating someone else that is not Seonghyeon and he’d rather die than admit it to the world.
He knows he must look terrible right now, but Seonghyeon can’t find any energy himself to care. He doesn’t bother wiping his tear-stricken face with tissues or wobbling to the washroom to clean his face. He lies on his bed, clutching onto the fox plushie imagining it’s Keonho he’s hugging.
The thought of it nearly makes Seonghyeon puke.
He’s conflicted. Keonho is taken, goddamn it. What gives him the right to imagine a man, who is now happily in a relationship, hugging him?
Seonghyeon feels horrible.
He can’t hate Keonho because it hurts too much to hate instead of love, and he can’t hate Martin either because he’s always been so kind and friendly to Seonghyeon even before their relationship. They’ve been a trio before Keonho and Martin decided to become a duo, and all Seonghyeon can do is plaster a fake smile on his face and pretend like it’s not going to shatter like fragile porcelain.
The worst part is he knows how lonely he’s going to be feeling for god knows how long their relationship lasts. Seonghyeon selfishly hopes it won’t be so long, but he berates himself for even thinking that way.
The three of them had been that type of friend group whenever one or two is missing, you’ll ask the present one where they are. They used to hangout all the time, share jokes and murmur secrets and talk shit about the people who frustrate them. They never kept anything from one another, and the both of them gave Seonghyeon so much reassurance that he felt so comfortable to the point he thought they’d always be best friends.
And Martin would be by his side, hyping him up to confess to Keonho.
Seonghyeon cries harder.
Now, Martin occupies a space that used to belong entirely to him. Sure, Keonho and Seonghyeon weren’t a couple, but they held hands, cuddled, kissed each other on the cheek sometimes but brushed it off as a joke— they were each other’s partner to all of their school dances. And Martin’s taking all of what Seonghyeon used to be, by Keonho’s side.
He didn’t even see it coming, which makes the tears harder to control because they just keep on coming and coming and he can’t seem to stop.
Seonghyeon wonders, briefly, bitterly, if the universe is playing a joke on him and by the time he wakes up tomorrow morning, it will all be a dream (more like a nightmare) and Keonho and Martin aren’t actually together.
He bites his lip, tasting the salt of fresh tears. He can’t imagine walking into the theatre club next week, facing Keonho and Martin sitting together, staring at each other with hearts in their eyes, whispering things Seonghyeon can’t hear, holding hands like they’re the happiest couple in the world.
He wants to scream. Wants to cry again. Wants to disappear entirely until Keonho realises what he has lost.
But Seonghyeon can’t do that.
He won’t. Because that’s not Seonghyeon, and he never will treat Keonho with such cruelty. He reckons that he might not last much giving the boy the cold shoulder either, he’d missed him too much for that, and that’s what Seonghyeon wants to hate himself for.
His head continues to ring in the silence of his room. His mind replays the scene over and over again, and he swallows back a sob.
He had been leaning against the piano on the stage, listening to one of their club members play a song Seonghyeon likes. Then the melody broke and the harmony faded away when Keonho stomped on to the stage, Martin in tow, holding hands. And Seonghyeon had felt the world stop turning and his heart start beating radically in his chest.
“Martin and I are dating!!” Keonho shouted at the top of his voice, then began to grow shy when Martin tugged at his hand, an embarrassed look on his face. “…Oh, was it too sudden?”
Only then do the others start talking.
“What the fuck?! Since when did you guys start dating?”
“You guys are serious? Like, dead serious?”
“I never thought the golden boy Ahn Keonho and musical genius Edwards Martin would get together, but congrats!”
“You guys look good together, though. Almost like a married couple.”
Seonghyeon could feel his eyes start to well up at that comment.
The member by the piano had already gotten up and crowded around the new couple with the others, joining in the choruses of congratulations. Only he continued to stand by the piano, rooted to the floor, ice replacing the warmth running in his veins.
He forced a smile when Keonho’s eyes found him across the stage. Seonghyeon hoped his smile was at least genuine, that the corners of his lips reached high enough that nobody, even Keonho, noticed that he was breaking inside. The smile was weak, small, barely there. Convincing to the eye, he hoped.
But it was enough to keep the other boy from walking over and asking what’s wrong.
He couldn’t let him ask. Because if Keonho asked, Seonghyeon knows he’ll break right there and then on the stage.
The sound of laughter filled the room—bright, overlapping voices, Martin’s booming laughter cutting through them like silk. It used to be a sound that put Seonghyeon at ease; now it just made his stomach twist and his throat clog up.
He stared down at the piano keys, the black and white blurring together due to the wetness of his eyes. He couldn’t cry, he didn’t want anyone to see the evident pain on his face, the wince he made when Martin bent down to kiss Keonho’s forehead. His fingers hovered over middle C, trembling, and he pressed down just to hear something familiar.
Something not jarring, piercing, and hurting like the giddiness in Keonho’s cheerful voice.
The note rang out sharp and lonely, unheard of in the midst of all the chatter. They’ve dispersed now, but Martin and Keonho seemed like they were in a single spotlight together, looking at each other so fondly. They were still holding hands, and it made Seonghyeon sick to the stomach.
He wanted to disappear.
He wanted to run.
But he couldn’t make his body move no matter how much he wanted to.
“Seonghyeon!” Keonho called out, voice bright as ever, like sunlight spilling over everything that hurt. “You heard, right? Martin and I— we’re—”
He nodded before Keonho could finish, an automatic smile coming back to his lips. It felt like second nature at this rate, and he didn’t like that discovery.
“Yeah, congrats, Keonho.” Seonghyeon said, and even managed to make it sound genuine. His throat felt like sandpaper, watching the other boy light up at his comment.
Never would he think that Keonho’s name would taste like acrid on his tongue.
Keonho beamed, his grin wide and unguarded, and something in Seonghyeon’s chest gave way. The sound that escaped him wasn’t quite a laugh, not quite a sob. Just a broken exhale, that the others thankfully didn’t notice.
He doesn’t remember how he got through the rest of the practice. Doesn’t remember how he packed his things, or how he mumbled something about needing to get home early. Seonghyeon only remembers the blur of movement, the noise of his friends fading behind him, and the weight of Keonho’s happy voice chasing after him like the real thing—
“Text me when you get home, okay?”
Seonghyeon never does.
The moment he gets home, he throws his phone to the floor and is distantly aware that he hears a faint crack. But it’s not serious enough for him to snap out of his misery and mourn over his broken phone.
His legs gave out the second he slid under his covers, retreating to his refuge. His bag had dropped with a small thud. He’s lying on the bed, hands shaking, his entire body trembling like a shriveled up leaf, heart hammering in his eyes like it won’t ever stop.
Seonghyeon doesn’t remember how much he cries until he hears his door click open and his eomma appears at the doorway, kitchen mittens on and all.
“Seonghyeon?” Her voice comes out gentle, and he shudders back a sob. “Sweetheart, dinner’s almost ready.”
She almost sounds soft, careful, the way she used to speak when he came home with scraped knees and broken fingers from playing basketball with the neighbourhood kids all day.
Seonghyeon sniffles, and he can hear his eomma pause at the doorway, looking at him, taking him apart slowly layer by layer. He doesn’t try hiding his face because he knows how worried she’ll be, and he hates seeing his mother worry over his own misery.
He slowly gets up, chest tight. His face feels puffy, and he can tell how red his eyes must look from the way she hesitates at the doorway. Seonghyeon drags his sleeve across his face anyway, sniffling once more.
“I’m not hungry,” he croaks out, voice hoarse and hiccupy.
Her brows knit together, and she closes the door behind her with a soft click. “Have you been crying?”
He doesn’t answer.
The silence between them stretches, the sound of oil sizzling faintly from the kitchen down the hall. She steps inside, still wearing her mittens, smelling faintly of sesame and stew. It’s the kind of warmth that could fix anything that made him sad when he was younger. Now, he’s not so sure.
“Sweetheart,” she tries again, voice low. “What happened?”
Seonghyeon shakes his head, staring at the blanket bunched around his knees. “Nothing, I’m fine.”
“Mm. Nothing always looks like this, huh?” She says gently, and her tone is anything but accusing. It’s patient, knowing, something familiar to him that he has known from all these years of being his mother’s son.
She sits beside him, the mattress dipping, the faint creak grounding him more than he expects. Seonghyeon feels his eyes water.
No, fuck, he can’t possibly cry again.
But when his eomma’s hand rests on his back, that’s when Seonghyeon’s composure cracks. The tears he thinks are gone start to well up again, hot and new, burning behind his eyes and streaking down his cheeks. He presses his face into his knees and tries to steady his breathing, but a broken sound slips out anyway because he has never felt this overwhelmed before.
She doesn’t say anything. Just starts rubbing his back in slow and smooth circles— the same rhythm she used when he had nightmares as a kid, and Seonghyeon cries harder.
“It’s— stupid,” he chokes on his words, hiccuping. His eomma hums in response, and he knows she wants to know more, that his reply is insufficient.
“What is?”
Seonghyeon hesitates. “I like someone. A boy.” The words rushed out of his mouth like it personally stabbed him. “But he—” his throat tightens, “—he’s dating someone else now.”
Her hand stills for a moment. She lets out a quiet sigh— not from surprise, but something that Seonghyeon can’t place a finger on. “…Is it Keonho?”
The way his shoulders tense answers her faster than words ever could. He doesn’t say anything, because that’s answer enough.
“Oh, Seonghyeon,” she says it like a prayer, and Seonghyeon lets the tears continue to fall.
“Figured you’d guess,” He gives a broken laugh, pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes. He glances at his eomma, and is surprised she looks devastated. As if she’s the one experiencing the heartbreak just like him.
That expression on her face pains Seonghyeon to no end.
She rolls her eyes. “Of course I’d guess. You talk about that boy more than you talk about your own mother.”
It hits him then, how connected and intertwined they are. Just how far have their lives been woven together? The Ahn family, and the Eom family. Family dinners, sleepovers, school events, outings. Keonho’s mom texting his eomma pictures from their last family trip together; Keonho coming over to his house just because. They’ve all been one tangled thread for years, and now it feels like the whole thing’s unraveling from the inside.
Seonghyeon wants to cut that thread.
“I-I can’t even be mad at him,” he whispers. “Because he’s still— he’s still my best friend. He’s still the Keonho I’ve loved since ten years ago.”
She looks at him like he’s still a small kid in his eyes, and he stubbornly shy away from her gaze. “That’s okay, sweetheart. He’ll still be, won’t he?”
Will he still be able to call Keonho his best friend after all that?
He doesn’t have a definite answer.
(And if Seonghyeon’s heart says no, that’s no one's problem but his.)
He ignores her question. “I’m fine, eomma. I just want to be left alone for now.” He sniffles again, feeling a wave of fresh hot tears coming again. “I’ll be alright in no time.”
She sighs, and doesn’t put up a fight. He can see it in her eyes how much she wants to stay, but her love for her son will always overpower the curiosity she constantly has. Seonghyeon’s not the same as she is, but he’s grateful for her understanding all the same.
He really doesn’t want to talk about Keonho right now either.
“Okay,” she says hesitantly. “Freshen yourself up and come down for dinner afterwards, okay?”
He nods without looking at her. “Okay.”
She lingers by the doorway, like she wants to say something but can’t find the right words to do so. Seonghyeon knows, without a doubt, that there is pity on her face that he won’t be able to digest if he sees it with his own eyes.
Seonghyeon’s old enough already. He’s a teenage boy, in his first year of high school. He can handle all this—whatever this is. Teenage love is common. Having a childhood crush is normal. Other people experience it too, and some of them probably go through the same situation he is in too. It’s nothing abnormal, nothing Seonghyeon should be this devastated for.
But when the door clicks shut and the silence settles, the thoughts don’t comfort him like he hopes they would. His throat tightens again, unknowingly, and the air suddenly feels heavy. The weight is crushing, and all Seonghyeon can do is curl beneath his covers and will himself not to cry any further.
He’s just so pathetic, isn’t he?
If it’s really that simple, then why does it feel like the end of the world?
What should Seonghyeon do to calm his broken heart? What is he supposed to do after finding out his crush of ten years is suddenly together with someone he never expected? Is he supposed to move on as easily as Keonho did by getting into a relationship with Martin?
His hands curl into fists on the bedsheet. He squeezes his eyes shut, and fuck— his body is such a traitor. Seonghyeon’s eyes tear up again, and this time he doesn’t relent and lets them fall. He’s 100% sure his pillow is soaked at this point, and he doesn’t even know how long he has been crying for. The memories play louder in his head in the silence of the room, and he knows he needs something louder, a distraction to stop thinking about Keonho and Martin.
Seonghyeon thinks it’s unfair.
Not because Keonho chose someone else, but because Seonghyeon doesn’t know how to stop choosing him.
It’s fine. As long as he sleeps it off, and wakes up tomorrow, bright and early, on a wonderful weekend day— he’ll be alright. Back to normal. Back to the usual Seonghyeon.
…He’s a terrible person.
He sighs, bringing his blanket up to his face. Seonghyeon tries to get comfortable, and before he knows it, he drifts off into a long sleep, albeit a bit uncomfortably.
Seonghyeon might proclaim that he has a good temper. He almost never gets mad, just only on a few occasions where he does get angrier than a normal person. This type of situation makes sense for him to get mad, right?
But, in the darkness of his room, the air conditioner blasting cold air loudly, he can’t muster the ability to be angry at all.
After all, who should he even be angry at?
Keonho, for confessing his feelings to Martin and actually getting the happy relationship he wanted?
Martin, for accepting Keonho’s confession because he shares the same?
Or himself, for crushing on a guy for a decade and never had the courage to confess?
Everything feels like a joke, and Seonghyeon is the punchline, unfortunately.
Ugh, he needs to fucking snap out of it. Keonho’s in a relationship, why should he care who he dates? Seonghyeon needs to put himself first and foremost. He doesn’t need to care about Keonho anymore.
That’s Martin’s duty now.
Admitting that makes Seonghyeon’s chest feel hollowed out.
He sighs, reaching for his phone on the floor. The screen is cracked slightly, no serious damage, so if he says it’s fine, it’s fine. When he taps the screen, the wallpaper lights up in the dark of the room. It’s a photo of him and Keonho, from two summers ago, arms slung around each other, faces flushed with laughter.
He stares at it for a long time.
Seonghyeon turns the phone face down and lies back on his bed. His chest still hurts, his eyes are still sore from crying for probably hours. But at least now, he feels slightly better after getting it off his chest at one go. Yikes, he probably hasn’t cried that much, like— ever, in his life.
His phone pings with more notifications, probably from his messaging app or some entertainment app he downloaded out of pure boredom. Seonghyeon doesn’t bother to lift a finger to pick his phone up, though, and continues to lie on his bed, dazing in his own world.
That’s when James comes crashing through his bedroom door, and behind him is—
Kim Juhoon?