Work Text:
1.
.
.
It was already 9 p.m.
The T1 practice room was caught in that strange, post scrim limbo. They had finished an hour ago, but the space was still alive with the low hum of equipment and the murmurs of staff members discussing the day's logistics. Lee Sanghyeok sat like a statue in front of the large screen, his eyes fixed on the replay. Anivia flashed across the monitor, and he barely blinked, his mind likely miles deep in a sequence of plays only he could fully grasp.
Hyeonjoon, on the other hand, was spinning lazily in his gaming chair, his thumb flicking rhythmically over his phone screen as he scrolled through social media. Beside him, Hyunjoon sat watching the replay with that same quiet, unwavering focus he shared with his senior.
Minseok sat on the sofa at the far end of the room, feeling like an outsider in his own body. His gaze was unfocused, staring blankly at the wall. His head throbbed with a relentless, stabbing rhythm, and a strange chill had settled deep in his bones. Since when had the practice room been this cold? he grumbled inwardly, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest.
He clutched his phone, trying to find a distraction from the growing discomfort. Manager Mun had just informed them that the van would arrive in an hour to take them back to the dorm. They were being given a rare moment to breathe before tomorrow’s schedule, which included a long day of filming for the new jerseys.
Honestly, Minseok was beyond exhausted. T1’s end of year schedule was a relentless machine, and he would be lying if he said the pace wasn't catching up to him. Perhaps that was why his body felt so unusually fragile lately.
The headache sharpened. Forty minutes left.
Minseok clicked his phone screen dark, the sudden lack of light offering a small mercy. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, desperate to dull the ache, but it did little to help. He forced himself to stand up, deciding that splashing cold water on his face was his only hope. Maybe he should just ask Manager Mun for medicine.
No. He didn't want to bother anyone.
That was the last thing he wanted; to become a burden to his teammates or the staff. They had the KeSPA Cup in a few days, and he couldn't afford to let his performance slip. He promised himself he would take medicine the second they reached the dorm. It was just a headache, after all.
“Ah...”
Minseok collided with a solid wall of jersey and warmth just as he reached the bathroom door. The impact sent a dull jolt through his sensitive head, and he felt a sharp ache spread across his nose. He lifted his head, blinking back tears of pain.
Suhwan. His ADC. His new ADC. Why did thinking of him that way always make his chest feel so tight?
He noticed the awkward panic on Suhwan’s face immediately. “I... I’m sorry,” Suhwan said quickly, his eyes wide. “I didn’t realize someone was there.”
Minseok almost laughed. Suhwan looked genuinely terrified, which was almost adorable. Peyz had been with T1 for about a month now, but his introverted nature was still so obvious. He was a complete contrast to the loud, chaotic duo of Minseok and Hyeonjoon.
Suhwan had been like a shadow to Hyunjoon since day one, always following him around as he adjusted to the new environment. Minseok understood; adjusting took time. Lately, Suhwan had started opening up to Hyeonjoon, whose playful personality made it easy to relax. Even Sanghyeok hyung seemed to have a soft spot for him, often asking him quiet questions about the game. Keria liked to tease him about it, saying Suhwan was like a small koala, quietly existing in his own world.
Only now, standing this close, did Minseok realize just how much taller his ADC actually was. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of nostalgia for Minhyung. Five years of support was a hard habit to break, and he wondered briefly if Minhyung was doing well.
“Minseok hyung? Are you okay?”
Suhwan’s voice snapped the tether of his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. Minseok blinked, realizing he had been zoning out while staring directly at the younger boy.
“It’s okay,” Minseok said, forcing a smile as he waved a hand dismissively. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
When Minseok tried to walk past him, Suhwan didn’t budge. Minseok frowned, his confusion rising. “Suhwan? Is something...”
Before he could finish, Suhwan’s hand clamped firmly around his arm. Without a word, Minseok was pulled into the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom.
“What...?” Before the irritation could fully boil over, Suhwan released him.
“What was that for?” Minseok demanded, his voice cracking slightly. His head felt heavier than ever.
Suhwan turned to face him fully, and their eyes locked. Minseok looked both annoyed and dazed, completely thrown off by this sudden, assertive behavior. Before Minseok could speak again, Suhwan lifted his hand. He pressed the back of his hand firmly against Minseok’s forehead, brushing aside the damp hair that fell over his brow.
Minseok froze.
It felt like a jolt of electricity ran through his skin. He couldn't look away from Suhwan, who was watching him with such intense gravity, as if Minseok was the only thing in the world that mattered. Suhwan’s hand slid down, his palm cupping Minseok’s cheek. His thumb brushed gently over the flushed skin, a touch so careful it felt like Minseok might break.
“You’re sick,” Suhwan said quietly.
He didn’t move his hand away. Minseok stood there, stunned by the warmth.
“It’s nothing,” Minseok managed to whisper, finally regaining his senses. “I’ll be fine after I take some medicine.”
He tried to step past Suhwan to leave, but his face felt like it was on fire. Was he actually running a fever? Or was this Suhwan’s fault? Minseok rubbed his face, trying to erase the ghost of that warm palm against his skin.
“I really should take medicine,” he muttered to the empty air.
* * *
By the time they reached the dorm, the chills had settled in deep.
“Are you okay? You look wiped out,” Hyeonjoon noted as they stepped inside.
“Yeah, pale as a ghost,” Hyunjoon added, looking concerned.
Minseok opened his mouth to lie, but his words were cut off for the second time that day. Suhwan stepped forward, grabbing Minseok’s arm and steering him deeper into the hallway. “Sorry hyung, I have something to talk about with Minseok hyung regarding the draft earlier,” Suhwan said firmly before they disappeared into Minseok’s room.
Hyunjoon and Hyeonjoon exchanged puzzled looks. “Is Suhwan always like that?” Hyeonjoon asked. Hyunjoon just shrugged, looking equally confused.
“Hyungggg, you promised to eat ramen with me, right?” Hyeonjoon suddenly whined, changing the subject. Hyunjoon rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed. “I don’t remember that.”
“Hyungggg?!” Hyeonjoon cried out in disbelief as they headed toward the kitchen, their bickering echoing through the dorm.
Inside the quiet of the bedroom, Minseok turned on Suhwan. “Hey, what was that about?” he asked, his voice rough with exhaustion.
“I’m sorry, Hyung, but you need to rest,” Suhwan said softly. He reached for Minseok’s arm again, but Minseok pulled away.
“I told you, I’m not sick, Suhwan,” Minseok replied weakly. He wanted to be angry, but he didn't have the energy left to fight. He just wanted to fall into bed and let the medicine do its work.
“You can go now,” Minseok said, trying to dismiss him gently. He turned to walk toward his bed, but his knees felt like water. The world tilted. He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact of the floor, but it never came.
Two strong, familiar hands caught his shoulders, holding him upright.
“Hyung, please… please just listen to me,” Suhwan’s voice was a low, pleading murmur. His breath brushed against Minseok’s ear, the proximity making Minseok’s heart skip a beat.
Minseok looked up, his vision a little blurry. The worry in Suhwan's eyes was so raw that he couldn't find the strength to refuse anymore. He allowed Suhwan to help him to the bed, letting the younger boy guide him down and gently remove his heavy jacket.
After Suhwan stepped out to prepare a hot bath and gather supplies, Minseok sat in a daze. He eventually made it through the shower, guided by the soft blue pajamas Suhwan had laid out for him.
When he returned to the room, he found Suhwan waiting with a tray. A bowl of steaming white porridge, a glass of water, and medicine were laid out neatly.
“I made some porridge for you,” Suhwan said, his tone incredibly soft. “It’s a simple recipe, but you need to eat before the medicine.”
Minseok sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a strange warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the fever. Suhwan sat beside him, raised a spoon, and brought it toward Minseok’s lips.
Minseok blinked, his heart hammering. “You… you want to feed me?” he stammered. He wasn't used to this. Minhyung or Hyunjoon had cared for him before, but this felt different. This felt intentional.
“If you're not comfortable, it's okay,” Suhwan said hurriedly, his own cheeks flushing.
Minseok let out a small, tired chuckle at the return of Suhwan’s usual awkwardness. He leaned forward and took the bite, his gaze locked onto Suhwan’s. Something in the way the younger boy watched him, so focused, so careful, made Minseok feel like he was losing his grip on reality.
His fever was rising, but as he looked at Suhwan, he wasn't sure if the sickness was the only reason his heart was racing.
.
.
.
-2
The van was a sanctuary of shadows.
No music played; only the low, rhythmic hum of the engine cut through the cool night air. Minseok leaned his temple against the cold windowpane, watching the Seoul city lights blur past in jagged streaks of gold and white. Even as midnight approached, the city showed no sign of slowing down, a stark contrast to the heavy, peaceful exhaustion settling inside the vehicle.
They had won. The Kespa Cup ; T1’s first. The weight of the trophy felt like a phantom pressure in the back of Minseok’s mind, tugging a small, tired smile from his lips.
The silence was punctuated only by the sounds of his teammates surrendering to sleep. Hyeonjun’s head was heavy against Hyunjoon’s shoulder, soft, rhythmic snores escaping him. He had played like a man possessed today, leaving every ounce of his energy on the stage. Beside him, Hyunjoon didn’t stir, his breathing slow and steady beneath the dark fabric of his sleeping mask.
Up ahead, the soft glow of a reading light illuminated Sanghyeok. He was hunched over a book, his focus a calm, unwavering sea. Minseok couldn’t see the title, but he knew it was likely something philosophical or complex, the kind of knowledge Sanghyeok would later distill into a single, profound sentence that would leave the rest of them in awe. He always did.
Minseok’s gaze drifted to his left.
Suhwan sat beside him, shrouded in the dim light. His eyes were closed, a single earbud nestled in his ear. The harshness of the stage lights was gone, replaced by the soft glow of the passing streetlamps that occasionally washed over his face. Minseok found himself tracing the line of Suhwan’s jaw, noticing how exhaustion softened his sharp features without ever dulling them. He was struck, not for the first time, by how Suhwan could be so formidable in the game and yet look so strangely gentle in the dark.
Minseok tried to look away, to return to the passing lights outside, but he wasn't fast enough.
Suhwan’s eyes opened.
The air in the van suddenly felt thin. Their gazes locked, and Minseok felt that familiar, intoxicating pull. A gravity he hadn't yet learned how to resist. Suhwan’s eyes were steady, unreadable, and deep enough to drown in. Something tightened in Minseok’s chest, a knot of nerves and heat that made his pulse thrum against his throat.
One.
Two.
Three.
The silence stretched, thick and meaningful.
Seven.
“Minseok hyung?”
Suhwan’s voice was a low vibration, barely a whisper, but it felt far too natural in the quiet space.
"Y-yeah?” Minseok replied, his voice betraying him with a slight crack. He blinked rapidly, trying to break the spell.
“Are you okay?”
Warmth crept up Minseok’s neck, blooming at the tips of his ears. He quickly dropped his gaze to his own lap, nodding fervently.
“Yeah. Sorry... I didn't mean to stare. I didn't mean to wake you."
A quiet, airy laugh vibrated from Suhwan’s chest.
“I wasn’t asleep, Hyung. Just listening to music.”
“What song?” The question slipped out before Minseok’s filters could catch it. He was suddenly, desperately curious about the world playing inside Suhwan’s head.
“Bad. By wave to earth.”
“Oh.”Minseok paused, the name of the indie-R&B track echoing in his mind. “I didn’t know you listened to that kind of stuff. It’s... moody.”
“I like it because it’s quiet,” Suhwan murmured. He turned his phone over in his hands, his thumb tracing the edge of the screen in the dark,a restless, rhythmic movement
"It helps when my head gets too loud.”
Minseok shifted his entire body toward him, his brow furrowing. “Loud? Even now? We just won, Suhwan-ah.”
Suhwan finally looked at him again. This time, the unreadable shield was gone, replaced by a flicker of raw vulnerability that made Minseok’s heart ache.
“Especially after a win,” Suhwan admitted, his voice barely audible over the engine. “Sometimes I think... if I make even one mistake now, people will forget the win. They'll just remember the mistake forever. The higher we go, the further there is to fall.”
Minseok didn't answer right away. He knew that weight. He knew the suffocating pressure of the T1 jersey, the haunting fear of being the single point of failure in a "perfect" legacy. He looked at Suhwan--really looked at him,and saw the reflection of his own ghosts.
Moving on instinct, Minseok reached out. His fingers grazed the shell of Suhwan’s ear, a touch so light it was almost a breath, as he gently took the other earbud from Suhwan’s hand.
Suhwan hesitated, his breath hitching as Minseok’s fingers lingered near his temple.
Then, slowly, Suhwan leaned closer.
The melancholic, jazzy guitar chords of the song slipped into Minseok’s ear, filling the void between them with sound and soul. Their shoulders brushed;at first light and unintentional, then steady. Neither moved away.
As the van swayed around a long curve on the highway, Suhwan let his weight settle fully against Minseok. It was a silent surrender. The warmth of Suhwan’s arm against his, the steady rhythm of their shared music, and the quiet intimacy of the dark van created a bubble that the rest of the world couldn't touch.
Minseok exhaled slowly, resting his head back against the seat, right next to Suhwan’s. He stayed.
.
.
.
3
.
.
The VOD room felt colder than the stage. Or perhaps it was just the silence; a heavy, clinical quiet that followed the roar of the crowd.
Chairs scraped softly against the floor as the team settled in, the air thick with the kind of exhaustion that made sitting up straight feel like a chore. On the main screen, the mid-game fight replayed for the tenth time. It was always the same angle, the same split second mistake, paused at the exact moment the tide turned.
No one spoke at first. Someone let out a long, weary exhale; someone else clicked their tongue in frustration. Minseok leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes were fixed on the monitor, but the pixels had long since blurred into meaningless streaks of color.
His hands moved restlessly. He rubbed his palms together, examined his nails with feigned intensity, and traced invisible patterns on the table. His mind felt like a hollow shell, too loud to sleep, too tired to think.
“It’s lunchtime,” Manager Mun announced, her voice cutting through the gloom. “We have a tight schedule after this, so let's refuel.”
Sanghyeok stood up first, straightening his jacket with practiced calm. He walked over to Manager Mun, who was consulting a clipboard with the staff. “I want to eat jjajangmyeon. Is that okay?”
Manager Mun nodded, already pulling out her phone. “What about the rest of you?”
Hyeonjun, who had been absentmindedly playing a game of chess with Suhwan to kill the tension, nodded quickly. “Sure. It’s been a while.” Hyunjoon, absorbed in his phone, gave a distracted hum of agreement.
“Alright, let’s move,” Manager Mun said. “Leave your things here. We’ll be back in forty minutes.”
“I’m not going,” Minseok spoke up suddenly.
Manager Mun paused, an eyebrow arching in concern. “Are you sure? You’ll get hungry, Minseok-ah.”
“It’s okay. Just bring me a takeaway later,” Minseok replied, forcing a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I want to check something from the scrim earlier. I'll stay here.”
Hyeonjun walked over, tilting his head. “That’s rare. You’re usually the first one in line for food.”
“Just a stubborn thought I can't shake,” Minseok lied smoothly.
Hyeonjun shrugged, then swung an arm around Hyunjoon’s shoulder, dragging him toward the door. “Let’s go, Hyung! I’m starving!” Hyunjoon flinched at the sudden contact, shooting him an annoyed but fond look. “Okay, okay, calm down, you giant.”
The door clicked shut, leaving Minseok in the sudden, ringing silence of the room. He sat down at one of the smaller monitors and flicked it on, the blue light washing over his tired face.
Not even a minute passed before the door creaked open again.
Minseok turned his head, expecting a staff member or someone who had forgotten their wallet. Instead, he saw Kim Suhwan. Only his head peeked through the doorway at first, the rest of his body hidden behind the frame. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Minseok’s heart gave a strange, erratic hop. “Suhwanie?”
“Uh… I decided to stay. I’m not really hungry,” Suhwan said, stepping fully into the room. He closed the door with a soft thud and walked toward Minseok.
Minseok felt a sudden, sharp memory of the van, of sharing earbuds and feeling the warmth of Suhwan’s shoulder. His stomach did a nervous flip. He told himself it was just hunger, but he knew better.
“Hyung’s checking the scrim?”Suhwan asked. Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled a chair over and settled right beside Minseok.
Minseok felt a wave of awkwardness wash over him. But now, in the dim light of the VOD room, the distance between their chairs felt dangerously small.
“Minseokie hyung?” Suhwan’s voice was soft, cutting through Minseok’s spiraling thoughts.
Minseok startled, his face heating up. “Ah, yeah. Just… looking at the engage at the dragon pit.” He looked away quickly, focusing on the screen. He secretly wished he could keep looking at Suhwan’s profile, but the new nickname, Minseokie, was already ringing in his ears. It felt like progress. It felt like a door opening.
For the next half hour, the tension melted into professional focus. Their voices overlapped as they analyzed plays, their heads leaning closer to catch the details on the screen. Minseok found himself teasing Suhwan about a particularly flashy play he’d made, and every time he did, Suhwan would offer a shy, lopsided smile that made Minseok’s chest tighten.
But eventually, the adrenaline faded. Minseok’s head began to grow heavy. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, a small, tired whine escaping his throat.
“Ah… I’m so tired,” he muttered, his voice rough and honey thick with sleepiness.
Suhwan stopped talking. He glanced over, watching Minseok blink slowly like a cat trying to fight off a nap. To Suhwan, Minseok usually looked untouchable; sharp, fierce, and loud. But right now, he looked human. Vulnerable. Soft.
“…You didn’t sleep much, did you?” Suhwan asked, his voice dropping an octave, becoming a low, soothing hum.
Minseok just hummed a noncommittal response, his eyelids feeling like lead weights.
Suhwan hesitated. His hand twitched, his fingers hovering in the air as if he wanted to reach out and touch Minseok’s hair, before he caught himself and pulled back. “Hyung should rest a bit,” he said, his eyes fixed firmly on the monitor to hide his nerves. “We still have a long day.” Minseok let out a breathy, exhausted laugh. “Yeah… I know.”
And then, it happened. Whether it was the lack of sleep or the sheer comfort of Suhwan’s presence, Minseok’s internal filter gave out. His head tilted, drifting through the few inches of air between them until it landed softly against Suhwan’s shoulder.
He felt Suhwan tense instantly, the muscle beneath Minseok's cheek turning to stone. Minseok held his breath, wondering if he had crossed a line.
But then, slowly, the tension bled out of Suhwan’s body. He adjusted his posture with a subtle, careful movement, making his shoulder a more comfortable resting place. He didn’t pull away. He didn't say a word. He just let it happen.
Minseok closed his eyes, a small smile touching his lips. The VOD room didn't feel cold anymore. The only sound was the low hum of the monitor and the steady, synchronized rhythm of their breathing.
It was a small step, but on that quiet afternoon, it felt like everything.
.
.
.
4.
They had just won their match against KT Rolster. Now, the T1 squad was moving toward the fan event area. These small fan meetings had become a ritual after every match, a space for the team to connect with those who supported them.
Minseok watched the fans lining up to meet him. Some brought bouquets, others small gifts or handwritten letters. Their words of congratulations warmed him, and Minseok felt a deep surge of gratitude. He was thankful for the fans who never stopped believing in them, even when things got tough.
Then there were the request;signing jerseys, recording short video messages, or posing for specific selfies. By now, Minseok was an expert at this. A little fanservice never hurt anyone, he thought with a mental laugh.
While waiting for the next fan in line, he glanced to his right. Suhwan was busy taking a selfie with a fan. Minseok was slightly surprised to see that Suhwan didn't look as awkward as usual. However, he nearly lost his composure when the fan asked Suhwan to do a "cat pose." He watched as Suhwan scratched his head, visibly searching his brain for the most appropriate way to look like a cat.
Finally, Suhwan balled up his fists and held them in front of his face, mimicking a kitten while offering a shy smile to the camera.
“M... Meow?”
Minseok looked away instantly. It was too much. The sight was hilarious, and under normal circumstances, he would have burst out laughing at the sheer absurdity of it. But instead of laughter, he felt a strange heat rising to his face. It felt unfair,Suhwan looked incredibly, undeniably cute.
And somehow, without Minseok realizing when, it had become a problem.
Once the fan left, satisfied with the photo, Suhwan turned his head toward Minseok. He noticed the elder was pointedly looking in the opposite direction. Suhwan tilted his head in confusion. Was Minseok-hyung getting sick again? He could see that the skin of Minseok's neck was much redder than usual.
After the fan meeting ended, they made their way back to the parking lot on the lower level. They didn't have a match the next day, so tonight was for resting before practice resumed.
Minseok walked quickly. He wanted to secure a seat in the van that was far away from Suhwan. The image of the "cat pose" was stuck on a loop in his head. However, his pace faltered when he realized he had forgotten the hot pack Manager Mun had prepared earlier. The temperature in Korea had plummeted, and Minseok absolutely hated the cold.
“Hyung.”
Suhwan’s voice reached his ears, soft and steady.
“Ah—ahh??”
Minseok turned around to find Suhwan standing right beside him. Their eyes met. The rest of the staff and T1 members were already walking ahead, leaving the two of them in a pocket of private silence. Without a word, Suhwan reached out and gently took Minseok’s hand.
Minseok froze, but when Suhwan pulled his hand away, he left something behind: a warm hot pack.
“You forgot yours, right? Use mine, hyung.”
Minseok stared at him in disbelief. “How did you—”
“Your neck was red. I don't want you to get sick again,” Suhwan said simply, his eyes shining with clear, honest worry.
Ah, he misunderstood. It wasn't the cold, it was—ah, whatever. Minseok rubbed his cheek, feeling the soft flesh of his face turn even warmer.
“Thanks, Suhwan,” Minseok said, offering a small smile.
But then he noticed Suhwan’s empty hands. “Where’s yours?”
“It’s okay, hyung. I can handle the cold,” Suhwan replied.
Minseok felt a pang in his chest. How could he just let Suhwan freeze? This was his own hot pack, after all. Why was he always like this?
Minseok didn't let himself think. If he paused for even a second, the heat creeping up his neck would win, and he’d lose his nerve. Instead, he moved with a sudden, practiced confidence, reaching out to snag Suhwan’s hand.
Their fingers laced together naturally, the plastic crinkle of the hot pack trapped like a secret between their palms. Minseok didn't just hold it; he gripped Suhwan’s hand with a firm, grounding pressure before shoving both of their joined hands deep into the oversized pocket of Suhwan’s jacket.
The younger boy jolted. His shoulders hiked up toward his ears, and for a fleeting moment, Minseok felt the muscle in Suhwan’s forearm tense as if he might pull away. It was a reflexive flinch, the reaction of someone used to keeping their space private.
"Hyung," Suhwan started, his voice barely a breath.
"There. Now it’s fair. This way, neither of us has to be cold," Minseok cut him off. He didn't look at their hands. Instead, he tilted his head back to meet Suhwan’s eyes, flashing a grin that was all sharp edges and bright energy. It was a challenge, one that effectively walled off any polite protest Suhwan was trying to form.
Minseok didn't wait for an answer. He started walking, his pace brisk and light, effectively towing Suhwan along behind him toward where the rest of the team was gathered.
Suhwan went along with it, his usual long strides turning slightly hesitant. He remained quiet, his gaze dropping to the heavy weight in his right pocket. The fabric of the jacket was thick, but it wasn't thick enough to hide the steady, radiating pulse of heat coming from Minseok’s skin. It was different from the chemical warmth of the pack; it was alive, slightly damp from the cold air, and impossibly solid
Up ahead, the others were already milling around the van. Hyeonjun was mid-laugh, gesturing wildly while recounting something to Hyunjoon, who was leaning against the car door with a faint, amused smirk. Sanghyeok stood a little apart, checking his phone with a neutral expression that softened only slightly as he looked up to see the two of them approaching.
None of them said anything. Hyeonjun’s eyes flickered down to Suhwan’s pocket, then back up to Minseok’s face, a knowing, mischievous glint appearing in his eyes for a split second before he looked away. Hyunjoon simply adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable but his posture relaxing as the group finally became whole again.
Suhwan felt the air grow colder as they left the shelter of the building, but the hand inside his pocket stayed burning hot. He didn't try to pull away again. Instead, his fingers twitched, settling deeper into the spaces between Minseok’s own, accepting the quiet gravity of the moment.
5
The lift ride was anything but quiet. Hyeonjun was in high spirits, relentlessly teasing Hyunjoon about a selfie he had posted on Bubble earlier that day. Sanghyeok leaned against the wall, a small smile playing on his lips as he threw in a stray compliment just to watch Hyunjoon’s face turn a predictable, bright red under the combined pressure of his teammates.
They had just returned from a night of dinner and drinks. Hyeonjun was the most flushed of the group, having unwisely challenged Suhwan to a drinking contest. To everyone's surprise, the younger boy had a freakishly high tolerance, leaving Hyeonjun to concede defeat before he got completely wasted.
Minseok had drunk his fair share, but he remained sharp. He kept glancing at Suhwan, who looked perfectly composed despite the amount of soju he had downed. His cheeks were a soft pink and his hair was slightly messy from the night air, a look that Minseok found deeply, irritatingly handsome.
When the lift reached the 12th floor, the doors slid open. Minseok trailed at the very back as they entered the spacious dorm. He took his time neatly arranging his shoes on the rack; he had seen Hyunjoon nag Hyeonjoon about messy shoes enough times this month to know he wanted no part of that lecture.
As he walked toward his own room, a sound caught his attention. Suhwan’s door was wide open. Inside, the youngest member was standing in front of his mirror, struggling. He was tugging at his jacket zipper with a rough, frustrated energy that suggested the garment would not survive much longer. His eyebrows were furrowed in a rare display of irritation.
Feeling a surge of pity, Minseok exhaled and knocked softly on the doorframe.
“Suhwan-ah.”
Suhwan looked up, his gaze meeting Minseok’s in the reflection. Minseok stepped into the room and reached out, catching Suhwan’s wrist to stop the tugging.
"Let me help. You are going to break it,” Minseok said, moving to stand directly in front of him. Suhwan let out a resigned sigh and dropped his hands to his sides, yielding.
Minseok stepped closer. Their eyes met for a fleeting second before Minseok looked down to focus. He grasped the zipper near Suhwan’s chest, pulling the fabric taut. He narrowed his eyes, spotting a single white thread caught in the metal teeth. With surgical precision, he began to tease it out with his fingernail.
The scent of soft detergent, expensive cologne, and a sharp hint of alcohol wafted from Suhwan. It was intoxicatingly close. Every time Minseok’s fingertips accidentally brushed against Suhwan’s chest, he felt his heart skip a beat, the thumping in his ears growing louder
On the other side of the interaction, Suhwan was looking down. From this height, he could feel Minseok’s soft breath ghosting over his chest. Minseok looked so small from this angle, concentrated and pouting slightly as he grumbled under his breath about the stubborn thread. He looked like the perfect size to be held
Suhwan watched the way Minseok’s long eyelashes brushed against his skin every time he blinked. He could smell the faint, sweet scent of shampoo lingering in the older boy’s hair.
ZIPP.
The zipper finally moved smoothly. Minseok smiled, triumphant, and looked up to share the success. The words died in his throat
They were far too close. Suhwan was looking at him with a gaze so tender it made Minseok’s head spin. It was that same look from the bathroom, the one that had haunted his dreams for weeks.
If either of them leaned in just an inch, Suhwan’s lips would be against Minseok’s forehead.
Minseok found himself paralyzed. He knew he should say something casual and walk away, but his breath hitched with a nervousness he never felt on stage. He was not the Genius Monster here; he was just Minseok, completely undone by his ADC.
Suhwan remained silent. His eyes traveled slowly down from Minseok’s eyes, to his nose, to his soft cheeks, and finally settled on his lips. The intensity of it made Minseok feel like he might stop breathing
Unexpectedly, Suhwan reached out and captured Minseok’s hands, which were still resting against his chest. He held Minseok’s wrists gently, his thumb tracing slow, rhythmic circles over the pulse point there. Minseok stayed still, his lack of protest giving Suhwan the courage to slide his hands down and lace their fingers together.
Suhwan brought Minseok’s hand up to his face. Closing his eyes, he pressed a lingering kiss to the knuckles. Then, one by one, he kissed each finger with devastating gentleness.
Minseok was stunned, his heart racing so fast it was almost painful, but he did not pull away. Afterward, Suhwan rested Minseok’s hand against his own cheek. He did not break eye contact as he tilted his head slightly, nuzzling into Minseok’s palm like he was finding a place to rest.
“Hyung...” Suhwan’s voice finally broke the silence, thick with a soft, drunken sincerity.
“Yes? Suhwan?” Minseok whispered, bracing himself.
“Suhwannie.”
Minseok blinked, confused. “Hmm?”
“Hyung should call me Suhwannie,” Suhwan murmured.
Minseok swallowed hard, his face flaming as he finally whispered back, “Okay... Suhwannie.”
A slow, genuine smile spread across Suhwan’s face, one that reached his eyes and stayed there. He did not let go of Minseok’s hand. Instead, he leaned forward just enough to rest his forehead against Minseok’s, a silent request for closeness that Minseok finally stopped fighting.
Minseok let out a breath he felt like he had been holding for months, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned back into the touch. The alcohol, the long day, and the mess in his head all seemed to fade away, replaced by the steady warmth of the person standing right in front of him. For the first time in a long time, the room was perfectly still.
“Go to sleep, Suhwannie,” Minseok murmured, though he made no move to pull away.
“Only if you stay for a minute,” Suhwan whispered back, his thumb again tracing that slow, rhythmic circle over Minseok’s wrist. And in the quiet of the dorm, Minseok realized he was not in any hurry to leave.
They stayed like that for a long heartbeat, suspended in a bubble where the rest of the world did not exist. Eventually, Minseok gently disentangled his fingers from Suhwan’s, the loss of contact feeling colder than he expected. He stepped back, offering one last lingering look at the boy who was now watching him with a sleepy, satisfied daze.
“Rest well,” Minseok said softly, his hand lingering on the doorknob
Suhwan nodded, the ghost of that smile still on his lips. “You too, Hyung.”
Minseok stepped out and closed the door with a quiet click. He stood in the hallway for a moment, pressing his back against the cool wood of the door frame. He squeezed his eyes shut and touched his own knuckles, right where Suhwan’s lips had been. His heart was still hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, and as he walked toward his own room, he knew he was not going to get any sleep tonight
.
.
.
+1
Two months had passed since the night the jacket zipper became a silent witness to something shifting between them. To the naked eye, Minseok and Suhwan were still the same synchronized bottom-lane duo, but behind the veil of privacy, something was vibrating intensely. There were no confessions, no promises, yet every time their eyes met, unwritten memories flickered in the air.
Minseok found himself caught in frequent reveries, watching Suhwan more than he should. He tried to scold himself..maybe Suhwan had just been influenced by the alcohol that night; maybe the lingering kiss on each of his fingertips was just a blurred mistake. But every time Minseok looked at his own hands, he could still feel the phantom warmth of Suhwan’s lips. A sweet ache began to spread through him; he hated how his heart reacted so violently to a mere memory.
.
.
The atmosphere at the T1 cafe that afternoon felt suffocating. The grueling practice schedule of the past few weeks seemed to choke the breath out of them, but they could only swallow their exhaustion for the sake of their shared dream.
Minseok’s gaze was fixed on Suhwan. The younger boy was quieter than usual..an unusual, unsettling silence. Suhwan only responded to Hyunjoon’s teasing with small nods or clipped, hollow answers. Although he forced a smile whenever a staff member greeted him, Minseok knew it didn't reach his eyes.
More worryingly, the plate in front of Suhwan remained untouched. For nearly half an hour, he had simply been pushing his food around without any appetite.
"Suhwan-ah, are you okay?"Hyunjoon asked, his face etched with concern<
"Yeah, I'm fine, Hyung. Just a bit of a headache,"Suhwan replied shortly. He tried to act cool, but Minseok saw him press his thumb into his temple with a hand that trembled slightly.
That night, the T1 dorm was shrouded in deep darkness. Most of its inhabitants had long since drifted into sleep, drained by the long day. Minseok stepped out of his room, tiptoeing toward the kitchen to wet his throat.
However, he froze when he spotted a figure on the living room sofa. In the dim orange glow spilling from the kitchen, he saw a form draped in a thick hoodie, leaning stiffly with eyes closed
"Suhwannie?" Minseok whispered softly.
Suhwan opened his eyes slowly, bleary and glazed. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, looking incredibly fragile inside his oversized hoodie. "Oh... Hyung..."
"Why are you sleeping here?" Minseok stepped closer, the worry in his voice no longer hidden. Suhwan merely shook his head weakly, too exhausted to string words together.
Minseok wasn't satisfied. He stood directly in front of Suhwan, then placed his small palm against Suhwan's burning cheek. Without warning, Minseok leaned down and brought their faces together. He pressed his forehead directly against Suhwan's, letting the tips of their noses touch.
Suhwan's hot, irregular breath fanned across Minseok's skin. The heat radiating from him was intense—Suhwan was being consumed by a high fever.
"You have a fever," Minseok stated, his voice now carrying the authoritative tone of a captain. Suhwan didn't resist; he simply closed his eyes and nuzzled his cheek into Minseok’s palm, as if seeking the most comfortable warmth in the world.
"I'll go get some medicine."
Before Minseok could turn away, Suhwan's hot hand caught Minseok's fingers,the same grip from that night. Minseok went still. The quiet living room was filled only with the hum of the air conditioner, but inside Minseok’s chest, a storm was raging.
In the faint light, Minseok saw Suhwan’s flushed face. Suhwan looked at him with a gaze so wistful, as if Minseok was the only thing holding him back from disappearing into the dark. His grip was possessive.
Slowly, Suhwan pulled Minseok toward him, urging the smaller boy to sit on his lap. Minseok didn't fight it,he didn't want to fight it. Suhwan immediately wrapped his arms around Minseok’s waist, burying his face in the crook of Minseok’s neck, seeking shelter.
"Hyung... don't leave me... it's cold," Suhwan murmured weakly.
Minseok felt Suhwan's hot breath searing the skin of his neck, making his entire body tremble. He slowly wound his arms around Suhwan’s shoulders, his fingers beginning to stroke the back of the younger boy’s head with deep affection.
"Suhwannie, let me get the medicine first, okay? Let's move to the room."
Suhwan didn't answer; instead, he tightened his hold on Minseok's waist. He just wanted to stay there;in the embrace that made him feel safe. Minseok let out a small sigh, but a faint smile played on his lips. He allowed himself to be Suhwan's anchor for a little while longer
An hour passed before Minseok managed to coax Suhwan into the bedroom and get him to swallow the medicine. Now, Minseok sat in a chair beside the bed, watching Suhwan finally sleep soundly. He didn't dare leave. He was afraid that if Suhwan woke up, he’d find himself alone again.
Watching Suhwan’s peaceful face made sleepiness finally catch up to Minseok. The clock on the wall showed 3:00 AM. Since their schedule was empty tomorrow, Minseok let himself surrender to the fatigue. He eventually fell asleep atop his folded arms at the edge of the bed, still in position guarding his heart's 'remedy.'.
.
.
.
Suhwan woke up as the morning sunlight began to tease his eyes. His body felt much lighter. His gaze shifted to the edge of the bed, seeing Minseok asleep in a clearly uncomfortable position just to take care of him
Suhwan smiled. The smile formed slowly, so soft and sincere that it wasn't just a regular smile, but a look brimming with unspoken love. His hand reached out to touch Minseok's hair, brushing it with utmost care.
"Thank you, Hyung."
Feeling the touch, Minseok woke up. When he smiled, seeing that Suhwan was better, his eyes crinkled into adorable crescent , a light that only appeared when he looked at Suhwan.
Suhwan was defeated. Seeing that smile made all his defenses crumble. He felt like a soldier surrendering without a fight
"Suhwan-ah..."Minseok’s voice was raspy with sleep. He reached out to check Suhwan’s forehead, but Suhwan was faster, catching his wrist. With a firm, gentle tug, Suhwan pulled Minseok into a warm embrace on the bed.
"Suhwanie?"
Suhwan didn't let go. He inhaled the scent of Minseok's hair, holding him as if Minseok was his only lifeline
"I'm okay,"Suhwan whispered. "I'm okay because Hyung is here."
Minseok finally gave in, returning the hug and resting his head comfortably. They didn't need a formal confession that morning. In the silence of the room, they knew they had found their place to lean.
"Don't get up yet, Hyung... five more minutes... I still need my 'medicine'.
Minseok smiled faintly, stroking Suhwan’s messy hair. "Fine, Suhwannie... five more minutes."
Perhaps they weren't ready to say the words out loud yet. The world outside was still loud and full of people wanting so much from them, but in this quiet room, none of that mattered. Under the warmth of the blanket, they didn't have to be perfect. They didn't have to be anything at all
In this hollow of time, they were no longer icons or legends built of glass and steel; they were merely two wanderers who had navigated a sea of noise to find the same shore. Ryu Minseok felt the anchor of a touch that asked for nothing but his presence, while Kim Suhwan found the only gravity that had ever made him feel light. There was no need for the clumsy weight of words when the silence spoke so eloquently of belonging. They were simply two souls, weary from the chase, who had finally learned that home was not a place, but the quiet rhythms of breathing in sync within each other’s arms