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1. When Hanbin Let Matthew Take His Hoodie
The practice room was cold. The slow creep that settled into your bones after midnight. Hanbin hadn’t noticed at first – muscle memory carrying him through sequences that left no room for distraction. The new choreography for their comeback was unforgiving, all quick transitions and precise angles, the kind their group had become known for.
Only when he turned, sweat cooling at his temples, did he notice Matthew huddled against the wall with his arms wrapped tight across his chest. The cold hit him then, all at once.
Hanbin crossed the room, peeling his hoodie off in one fluid motion. The sudden absence of its warmth raised goosebumps along his arms. The fabric still radiated heat.
He draped it over Matthew’s shoulders, fingers brushing the worn cotton and the curve where neck met collarbone. His hand stayed there a second before he pulled away.
Matthew’s head lifted, surprise flickering across his face before it softened. “Thanks, hyung,” he murmured.
He pulled the sleeves over his hands, making fabric paws. He drew the hoodie closer around himself like he’d done it a hundred times before, which maybe he had by now. They’d already shared many things after all – clothes, food, space.
Hanbin waved it off, turned away before he could say something foolish like it looks better on you anyway.
It wasn’t the first time a thought like that had surfaced. Lately, they’d been coming more often – small, inconvenient observations that didn’t mean anything. The way Matthew’s laugh sounded different when he was truly happy versus just entertaining. How Hanbin could pick out his silhouette in a crowded room without trying. The fact that he’d started thinking about it at all.
He blamed the long hours. The exhaustion. The way their lives had become so intertwined that separating his own rhythms from Matthew’s felt impossible.
This hoodie was one of his favourites – softened from countless washes, carrying the detergent his mother sent from home and faint traces of his cologne. He’d turned down other members before when they’d asked to borrow it. But with Matthew, there’d been no question to answer, no request to weigh. Just the instinct to give.
For a while, it wasn’t his anymore. It became part of Matthew’s rotation, and Hanbin never thought to ask for it back.
It carried new scents now – coconut-y shampoo, the clean fabric softener Matthew preferred, and that inexplicable baby freshness.
Hanbin didn’t mind. Something about it oddly comforted him – the idea of Matthew wrapped in something of his.
He thought Matthew understood.
What’s mine is yours.
You make me want to share pieces of myself with you.
Then one evening, Hanbin found the hoodie folded neatly on his bed. Each crease on the cloth was precise, sleeves tucked in with deliberate care. Not casually tossed aside, but like being property returned. A prickle ran through his stomach. He traced the careful fold with his fingertip.
Matthew appeared in the doorway, a smile brightening his face as he spotted Hanbin. He leaned against the frame with that effortless ease that defined him.
“Hey, hyung. Figured you’d need it back.” He gestured toward the hoodie. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. Sorry I hogged it so long.”
Hanbin smiled back, accepting it with a nod.
He wore the hoodie himself that night. It didn’t smell like Matthew anymore.
Borrow.
As if it’d ever been about lending.
2. When Hanbin Saved Matthew’s Favourite Snacks
Matthew rarely asked for anything. Not really. He’d hold up snacks for the cameras, smile that bright grin and say he loved this or that, but behind the lens he took what was convenient. Never made a fuss.
Hanbin noticed the way Matthew’s eyes would catch on the mint chocolate candies in the snack basket. How his hand hovered over the blueberry drinks before grabbing something else, something easier. So Hanbin started setting things aside.
It wasn’t a big deal. Small things, honestly. He slipped candies into jacket pockets before morning practice, stashed drinks for Matthew at the back of his fridge where eager hands wouldn’t find them. During shoots, he scanned the catering table first, claiming specific things before anyone else could.
“Ah, hyung,” Matthew laughed once, unwrapping a snack Hanbin had just handed him. “You always get the good stuff. I should follow you around even more.”
Hanbin laughed too, bumping his shoulder against Matthew’s. Warmth spread beneath his sternum like the first sip of hot tea on a cold day.
You don’t have to follow me, he thought. I’ll stick with you instead.
He was aware of what others might overlook. Remembered preferences Matthew himself downplayed. And when Matthew looked genuinely surprised – like he still couldn’t believe someone would prioritize his small joys – something in Hanbin’s chest expanded.
In his mind, it was obvious.
You deserve to have good things.
I’d put you first.
Then came that one time when Hanbin wordlessly handed over the sandwich Matthew had been enthusiastically promoting to everyone for weeks like a spokesperson. The one he claimed was ‘life-changing’.
Matthew hesitated, fingers brushing Hanbin’s before accepting it.
“You don’t have to keep doing this.” His voice dropped beneath the chatter around them. “I can always just get my own.”
Hanbin blinked, momentarily thrown. He recovered with a small scoff and a smile. “I know you can.”
Matthew paused, searching his face before smiling back. And that was that.
But it was the first time Hanbin wondered if Matthew ever thought he was keeping score. That kindness came with invisible ledgers. He hoped not – these gestures had never been… transactions.
Later that night, Hanbin found himself at the convenience store, eyeing the new flavoured drink Matthew had mentioned last week.
He bought three.
One for now, one for later, one just in case. That was normal, wasn’t it? Making sure Matthew always had options.
Back in the dorm, he passed Hao in the living room. Hao glanced at the convenience store bag, then at Hanbin.
“You baby him too much.”
“I don’t baby him enough.” Hanbin defended.
Hao raised an eyebrow and hummed, walking away. “I didn’t even name names.”
Hanbin caught the edge of a smirk he pretended not to see. Wondered what Hao was really trying to say.
Then decided he didn’t want to know.
3. When Hanbin Brought Back Little Things from Every Schedule
It started with a pin – small, enamel, shaped like a fox wearing sunglasses. It had been sitting on the corner of the makeup table during a solo schedule, and Hanbin pocketed it without thinking, drawn to its whimsical charm. It wasn’t valuable or particularly useful, but something reminded him of Matthew. He wasn’t sure why.
The next morning, Matthew found it balanced on his phone charger. His face lit up.
“Don’t even pretend, hyung. I know it was you.” He turned the tiny fox over in his hands, grinning. “Where did you get this?”
Hanbin just shrugged.
After that, it became routine. A ramen shop menu with beautiful illustrations. A daisy sticker from a stylist’s kit. A tiny watermelon charm he won from a claw machine backstage at a music show.
Never anything expensive or ostentatious. Just… things that he measured against an internal scale of would this make Matthew smile? Little pieces of his day he wanted Matthew to have.
He never handed them over directly. Never explained. Placed them where Matthew would find them – tucked into hoodie pockets when he wasn’t looking, nestled into backpack compartments, arranged neatly on his pillow as if the universe itself had decided Matthew should possess them.
Hanbin liked leaving these small breadcrumb trails between them. Quiet proof that he was always thinking of Matthew.
And Matthew never made a big deal out of thanking him. But he always found a way to let Hanbin know he’d noticed, that he’d enjoyed them.
Like the limited-edition Pokémon pin he got from one of the schedules in Japan. Matthew found it on his bass case one morning and immediately clipped it to his backpack strap, then spent the rest of the day spinning around in front of Hanbin whenever he could to show it off.
“Look familiar, hyung?” He struck a pose.
Hanbin smirked. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“One day I’m gonna sell all this stuff and retire early. Financial freedom, here I come.”
It was enough – seeing Matthew light up with each discovery, hearing him joke about where they came from, watching him keep every single one.
Surely Matthew could see what all of it meant.
You’re in everything around me.
Even the little moments matter.
4. When Hanbin Made Sure Matthew Had Someone to Walk With
Hanbin knew Matthew’s schedule by heart. Which nights he’d finish last – staying behind to run choreography one more time, or stuck in the recording booth because he was sequenced last.
The leader himself always had somewhere to be, someone calling his name. But still he found reasons to linger. Scrolling through nothing on his phone. Refolding things that didn’t need refolding.
Waiting.
Sometimes they left the company building together in silence.
Other times Matthew talked – about the anime he’d started, the burger place he wanted to try, whether it would rain tomorrow.
Hanbin listened. He never walked ahead, never let Matthew trail behind. Their paces synced naturally, elbows bumping every now and then.
He’d wrap his scarf around Matthew’s neck without a word when winter came.
“Hyung, I’m Canadian,” Matthew argued before.
“So? Do Canadians not get cold?”
“Well, I mean–”
Hanbin’s hands went to his hips. “Do Canadians not want to be doted on by their hyungs?”
“When you say it like that…” Matthew rolled his eyes exasperatedly, then pressed his fingers into the soft wool. “Why do you always wait for me, anyway?” He mumbled after.
Hanbin pulled his hood up against the cold. “I don’t mind.”
They walked a little farther before Matthew spoke again, breath forming small clouds in the night air.
“I can walk by myself, you know that right? I’m a big boy. You should rest when you get early days.”
But you’re how I rest. I’ve started measuring my days by how much time I get with you.
Hanbin cleared his throat, “I just like walking with you.”
Most nights, he assumed Matthew was aware.
I’d never turn away from you.
You’re never alone as long as I’m here.
But then there were nights when the goodbye came with a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes, when he disappeared into his room with shoulders hunched like he was carrying something Hanbin couldn’t see. Small. Closed-off.
Hanbin would stand there until Matthew’s door clicked shut, staring. The usual feeling wouldn’t come – that quiet satisfaction of knowing Matthew was safely home, the contentment of another day ending with them together. The distance felt wrong for two people who were always side-by-side.
The next time, Hanbin waited anyway. Folded his jacket in four different ways. Pretended to check his phone. Fell into step beside Matthew when he finally emerged.
But the next time, he still waited. Still rearranged things that didn’t need rearranging. Still walked beside Matthew.
And the time after that. And the time after that.
Because that’s what he did. He waited.
5. When Hanbin Gave Matthew All the Space
Matthew was careful – not with keeping people out, but with his words. With his worries. With the shape he took up in a room.
His love came easily, freely distributed. But when something was wrong, when he was hurting, Matthew made himself small. Smiled softer, spoke lighter than he felt.
Hanbin had always known this about him. Had learned early that Matthew didn’t like being asked too many times, didn’t want eyes on him while he worked through things. Who did? So he didn’t pry.
“Need to talk?” He’d still ask sometimes, keeping it casual.
Matthew always shook his head. “I’m good, hyung.” Same smile, same answer.
And Hanbin would nod and let it be.
Once, in those early debut days, he’d stood outside the room Matthew shared with Yujin, hand raised to then push his way in. Just talk to me, because I don’t believe you. But he’d walked away, trusting Matthew to know what he needed.
And it worked out in the end. Matthew had found him later that night, and they’d talked until sunrise.
So Hanbin gave him room.
He stayed close but not too close. Made sure there were outs. Offered openings without pressure. Paid attention to what Matthew didn’t say – the tension around his mouth, the laugh that cut off too soon, the way he’d stare at nothing when he thought everyone was too busy to notice.
Everyone had off days. It would pass, just like it had before. Matthew was fine.
Except he’d been having a lot of off days lately, hadn’t he?
But Hanbin believed that if Matthew really needed him, he’d come. When he was ready. Believed that the door he’d left open was evident enough. That patience looked like respect.
It’d always worked before after all.
The message was supposed to be clear.
I trust you to know what you need.
I’ll always make room for you.
Reach out – I’ll catch you.
That night like most nights, Hanbin fell asleep certain he was doing the right thing.
Until something woke him. He wasn’t sure what. No alarm, no noise from outside, no reason at all. But his eyes opened at 4:12 AM according to his phone, heart already beating faster than it should.
Then he noticed messages in the group chat.
Matthew: anyone awake
Hanbin stared at the screen, disoriented. The message had been sent at 3:21 AM. No one else had responded.
Matthew: guess not~
Matthew: hehe
This last one was sent fourteen minutes ago.
Something felt off.
Hanbin was out of bed, pulling on a hoodie. Matthew and Ricky’s unit was only ten seconds away.
The shared foyer was too bright. Hanbin’s bare feet were quiet on the cold floor.
He let himself in silently, closing the door carefully behind him. The apartment was dark except for a faint glow coming from down the hall. He could hear Ricky snoring softly from one of the bedrooms.
The glow was coming from the kitchen. Not the overhead light – something dimmer. The range hood light, maybe.
Matthew stood at the sink, head bowed, one hand braced against the counter.
Hanbin opened his mouth to say something. To ask him if he was okay, if he needed water, if he couldn’t sleep.
Then Matthew’s other hand came up.
Slap.
The sound was sharp. Loud in the quiet. Skin against skin, hard enough that Matthew’s head whipped left in recoil.
Hanbin’s lungs jammed. He froze in the doorway, one hand on the wall.
Matthew didn’t make a sound. He straightened slowly, tilted his head back, stared up at the ceiling like he was trying to compose himself.
Then his voice came, low and harsh in a way Hanbin had never heard before. Stripped of everything gentle that he showed the world.
“Get it together, Seok Matthew.”
Another slap. This one harder. Matthew’s hand stayed against his face for a moment afterward, pressing.
Hanbin couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. His pulse hammered in his temples, too loud, drowning out everything else.
He should say something. Do something. Rush in there and grab Matthew’s wrist, demand to know what was happening, why he was–
But his feet wouldn’t move. His throat had closed up.
Matthew dropped his hand. Paced to the adjacent wall. Pressed both palms against the edge of the sink, shoulders hunched forward. His breathing was controlled. Too controlled. Like he was counting each breath.
Hanbin took a step back. The floor creaked under his weight.
Matthew’s shoulders tensed. His head started to turn.
Hanbin moved fast, back around the corner, out the door, pulling it shut with barely a sound. Made a hasty retreat into his room.
He lay back on the bed, heart racing.
How long had Matthew been doing that? How many nights had Hanbin slept through while Matthew stood in the dark, trying to– what? Punish himself into some semblance of okay?
Hanbin had been so certain. So sure that what he was doing had been enough. Careful not to push, careful not to smother. He’d convinced himself that caring for someone meant giving them space to breathe, even when every instinct screamed to pull them closer.
Maybe especially then.
But he’d been speaking his own language. And if Matthew didn’t understand what any of it meant, then what had Hanbin actually been saying? What had Matthew heard all this time?
Maybe nothing.
Matthew hadn’t seen the door at all. Perhaps he’d never known it was open. Maybe Hanbin had been wrong about all of it.
He rolled onto his side, pulled his blanket up. Didn’t sleep for a long time.
And when he finally did, his dreams were full of sounds he couldn’t unhear.
+1. The Night Hanbin Realized Just How Much Matthew Didn’t Understand
Hanbin couldn’t sleep.
It was the heat in the dorm, the way his sheets felt too heavy, tangled around his legs. Clearly.
But really, it was the image from nights ago that he couldn’t shake – Matthew’s hand raised, the sound of skin on skin, the way his head had snapped to the side. The voice that didn’t sound like him at all.
Damn it, he needed to talk to him.
Hanbin thew off his covers and made his way to the opposite unit.
He found Matthew’s door open.
That wasn’t right.
The bed was empty except for sheets pushed back carelessly and a pillow still bearing the indent of his head.
Hanbin’s pulse picked up. He checked their kitchen. The bathroom.
Nothing.
The common balcony one floor up, then. It had to be.
The access door was ajar. Bingo.
Matthew was curled near the far end of the railing, arms wrapped around his knees, his breath misting faintly in the cold air.
“Mashu?” Hanbin kept his voice soft.
Matthew flinched anyway. His gaze stayed on his knees as he dragged his sleeve across his face. Quick.
“Oh hey.” His voice was hoarse. He tried to smile. “You should go back inside, hyung. It’s cold.”
“Can’t sleep?”
“Something like that, but I’m fine. You should really head back in.”
“No.” Hanbin stepped out. “I’m not going back in. And you’re not fine. So we’re going to– we’re going to talk. Or sit here. Or whatever you need. But I’m not leaving.”
Matthew still didn’t meet his eyes, so Hanbin sat down beside him.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
“I’m handling it. You don’t need to worry about me.” Matthew finally said.
“I always worry about you.”
Confusion flickered across Matthew’s face. “Why?”
The question caught Hanbin off-guard. “What do you mean, why?”
“You’re always–” Matthew gestured vaguely. “You’re always checking on me. Doing things for me. And I don’t understand why. You’re so busy, you have so many things to deal with, and I– I know that’s just who you are. But I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, like it’s your responsibility or something, and–”
“Matthew.”
“What?”
Hanbin studied Matthew’s profile, the way his fingers dug into his own arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what? There’s nothing to tell.”
“That it was this bad.” Hanbin kept his voice steady. “That you felt this alone.”
Matthew finally looked at him then, and Hanbin’s chest went tight at the redness around his eyes, the dampness clinging to his lashes.
“…You always said not to worry.”
Hanbin blinked.
“That it would be okay,” Matthew stared back down at his hands. “So I thought... maybe I was just overthinking it. That if I just tried harder, it would go away.” His voice wavered. He bit down on his lip to steady it.
And Hanbin–
God.
He’d done this. Not with cruelty, but with carelessness. With assumptions. He’d handed Matthew reassurance like it was a solution, when what Matthew had needed was permission to not be okay.
He felt something cold and unforgiving twist in his chest.
How many times had he said don’t worry like it was comfort? When really, it had been a type of dismissal. A way to smooth things over. How many times had Matthew taken those words at face value – not because they were true, but because Hanbin had said them, and Matthew trusted him enough to believe?
“I’m sorry.” The words were choked out. “Matthew, I didn’t– I should’ve–”
“It’s not your fault,” Matthew interrupted, shaking his head hard. “I’m… it’s me. I’m the problem. I never know what to say. And I don’t know what I’m doing.”
His voice splintered. His shoulders started shaking, and he pressed his hands over his face, breathing too fast.
Hanbin couldn’t just sit there anymore. He reached out to pull him close, and Matthew folded into him immediately. His hands fisted in Hanbin’s sleeve, knuckles white.
“I got you,” Hanbin murmured. His hand moved to Matthew’s hair, stroking slowly.
He thought about all the times before. The tiny gestures he’d given because they felt natural, because doing them for Matthew had always felt right. The things he’d left unsaid because he believed Matthew already understood.
But–
The hoodie had just been loaned warmth.
The snacks had just been a filled tummy.
The little items had just been momentary fun.
The walks together had just been routine.
The space had just become solitude.
Hanbin had thought his actions were obvious. But Matthew had seen only the surface of all of it. Only kindness and nothing underneath. No clarity.
Because Hanbin had never said it out loud.
Because actions without words were only ever half the language.
Not anymore.
That could change. That would change – starting now.
Hanbin rested his chin lightly against Matthew’s hair and felt him tremble. “I should’ve told you,” he said quietly. “I thought you knew, but I should’ve said it anyway.”
Matthew’s voice was muffled. “Knew what?”
So many things. Too many.
That I hurt when you hurt.
That you don’t have to pretend around me.
You’ve been special ever since you first called me hyung.
You don’t have to earn a spot in my life because you’re already at the centre of it.
All of it piled up and pressed against his teeth.
But he settled on this:
“That you matter to me. So much.” Hanbin’s arms tightened around him. “That I’d stand between you and the world if you needed me to. That your smile is one of my favourite things.”
Matthew made a small sound against his shoulder.
“And that I see you,” Hanbin continued, pulling back to brush a tear from Matthew’s cheek with his thumb. “The parts you’re proud of and the parts you try to hide. All of it. That hasn’t changed just because we’re idols now.” He paused, making sure Matthew was listening. “So don’t be scared to show me, Seokmae-ah.”
Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, then nodded and burrowed his face back into Hanbin’s chest. His breathing slowed, evened out. When his fingers reached for Hanbin’s hand and curled around it, the hold was steady.
This time, Hanbin felt it: Matthew understood.
Still– there was one last thing Hanbin kept to himself. Something he’d only just realized.
I love you. More than I probably know how to explain. I just didn’t know what to call it until now.
But maybe… maybe he’d say that next time.