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Hongjoong has been enamored with Seonghwa since the day they met. It was hard not to be. Especially not when he's always looked like that.
With endless striking features, from big eyes that got even bigger when he was excited about something, to a strong nose and bushy eyebrows that made him look like an angry bird. He's always been just tall enough that Hongjoong has to look up to meet his eye, but not so tall that it made him intimidating.
Even his voice, that could go from sweet to sultry, to rough and deep in seconds had followed Hongjoong into his dreams. It was hard to escape. It still is. Years into their career and he still can't bring himself to look the man in the eye without feeling like his stomach has plummeted to his feet.
It took him the better half of a decade to put such a dramatic and.. serious word to the way he feels, but there's no denying it anymore. He was enamored. Obsessed. In love.
Looking back, he probably noticed it long before he actually allowed himself to confront that feeling, much less acknowledge or put a name to it. When Hongjoong first felt the urge to write songs about his smile, or the kindness and support that Seonghwa continues to show him, it was appreciation. When he began designing clothes for someone other than himself it was an aesthetic attraction. When he dreamt about him while sleeping on the living room couch, it was guilt.
"He's a good friend."
"He has a beautiful body line."
"He's a lot kinder to me than I probably deserve."
"I wouldn't be able to handle this responsibility without him by my side." Hongjoong would tell himself over and over.
Anything and everything to try to explain away the feeling. It never worked. Never felt quite right. Friendship or appreciation or guilt never fully encompassed just how deeply Seonghwa had dug into his soul and changed him. Of course, all of those things were true too, but it just wasn't enough. It tortured Hongjoong for years on end. Ate away at his consciousness in the late hours of the night when only his wall clock was there to keep him grounded.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick....
Tock....
'You're in love.' The empty walls would whisper to him. 'Just admit it.'
Hongjoong was so fucked. He was going crazy.
The infatuation just got worse and worse with time. Allowing it to fester and grow into the monster that it had become was the wrong move on Hongjoong's part, but he didn't know what else to do. The man had no idea how to stop it, and he wasn't sure he wanted it to. It didn't help that Seonghwa just kept getting more and more beautiful with time. He grew into himself, blossoming like a flower in the sunlight. With each comeback he explored new songs, new outfits, new concepts, and he shone like the brightest star in the universe with each and every one.
His hair grew longer, framing his gorgeous face perfectly. Each hair laid on his cheeks like a kiss, gentle and warm. It was soft, and always smelled so good.
Seonghwa's makeup looks got bolder. His gender expression became so much more authentic. He gained the confidence that Hongjoong had always believed he deserved more than anyone in the world.
And then, the most world-shattering, awful, horrible thing happened.
Seonghwa started going to the gym. Lifting weights had become his new pastime, and before they all knew it- he was wider. Larger. Stronger. It kept the captain awake at night. It punched the air out of his lungs each time his friend would take off his shirt.
So beautiful. So gentle and kind. So funny (annoying) And so, so muscular. Lean, but well built and strong enough to beat San in a pull-up contest. It was sickening.
If his body line was incredible before, it was borderline delicious now. Hongjoong seldom used words like that to describe people, but Seonghwa defied the laws of human beauty in every aspect. Looser clothing created an androgynous silhouette that could otherwise only be found in paintings from the olden days. Tighter clothing accentuated his growth in all the ways that drove Hongjoong crazy. It squared his shoulders and tapered his already tiny waist. It brought attention to the lines of his hips that Hongjoong could spend hours sketching on their own. Whether he wore t-shirts, or jeans, loose sweatpants and tank tops, or skirts it was all gorgeous. Perfect. It was all Seonghwa.
Having spent years denying himself this, Hongjoong was now saddled with nearly a decade of tangled feelings that had no place to go. Words that couldn't escape the painful confines of his mind. He couldn't even write about them, in fear that someone would find it or that it would manifest into reality and cause him more anguish.
So, there he was, gay and miserable, with a best friend that had the most gorgeous silver hair and wide shoulders, that was debuting on the runway soon and was nervous and excited and so cute. Hongjoong was so deeply endeared by him it tore him to pieces.
It was the kind of love that made him want to sing about it, draw about it, dance and rap and scream about it. To express it in some creative way that would ease the burden on his soul. And yet- he had no choice but to keep it inside. There was far too much responsibility weighing on his shoulders to pursue such a foolish thing. They were in the spotlight, more than they had ever been before. To jeopardize their careers for his own benefit was such a selfish act in Hongjoong's mind that he felt pained at the thought. And yet, it persisted.
And then- the trip. The goddamn romantic Italy trip that was (almost) just the two of them and a camera. Beautiful sights, delicious food, Seonghwa's incessant compliments that he had to ignore for his own sanity. It was too good. Too relaxing. Too dangerous.
If Hongjoong allowed this reality to exist for longer than a day or two he would imagine what a scenario in which he could kiss the smug smirk off Seonghwa's face after a compliment would be like. What things would be like if they weren't famous. If they weren't them.
Maybe- just maybe, he would've taken the opportunity to do the Titanic thing with him like he wanted. Or profess his love at one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Maybe, he would've been truthful with himself, and with Seonghwa.
But he loved his job. So much. Being an idol with his best friends was a dream come true that he had been working towards for so long that their success didn't even feel real to him sometimes, so he would cherish that. And he would cherish Seonghwa in all the ways that he had him.
Which was a lot of them, but not enough.
Hongjoong knew how loyal and caring Seonghwa was to him. The way he always stuck by his side and celebrated his achievements as if they were his own. The way he reassured Hongjoong that all of this- all this worry and stress and effort- was worth it.
They weren't extensions of each other, but puzzle pieces of one another that they didn't know were missing.
--------
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Wooyoung asks, not really bothering to look at him properly when Hongjoong enters his room.
"Ugh." Hongjoong groans, flopping face down onto Wooyoung's bed dramatically. "Uggghhhhh"
Wooyoung sits up straight, realizing the possible severity of whatever situation has caused their captain to willingly facepalm into his bedsheets with nothing to offer but meaningless groaning.
"What did you do?"
Hongjoong's head shoots up. "I didn't DO anything. That's the problem. I literally cannot do anything."
"What are you talking about?"
"You can't laugh." He threatens, knowing that he doesn't really have a better option than talking to Wooyoung about this. So he would have to endure the laughter that he knew was coming anyways.
"No promises. Spill."
"Seonghwa." He says simply, as he sits up and looks somewhere in the corner of his room as to not make eye contact. It's all the explanation that's needed, in his opinion.
Wooyoung snorts. "Right. Very specific."
He sighs, already exhausted by the conversation he chose to start. "That's just it. Him." He groans again. "I can't write, I can't sketch, I can't even work out because it all makes me think of him and it's driving me crazy."
"Ah. That's what it was." Wooyoung responds, looking at him as if the gears in his head have finally begun working. "I was wondering what your problem was."
"You didn't think to ask?"
"I didn't really care that much." He shrugs.
"Why did I even come talk to you?"
He shrugs again, nonchalant. "I don't know, why did you? What do you want me to do about your gay crisis?"
"It's not- It's- okay, it's a gay crisis, but I don't need you to do anything, I just- needed to get it out I guess. I feel like I'm going to explode." Hongjoong explains, his heart thudding in his chest at such rapid speed that it might as well be considered a medical emergency.
"You look like it." A pause. Wooyoung surveys him with his eyes while leaning back in his desk chair. Hongjoong notices just then that he interrupted his very important past-time of watching some show he doesn't recognize. "I dunno Joongie, maybe you should take this up with the source of your problems?"
He gawks. "Are you insane? What the fuck would that fix? I can't be with him. Letting him know I'm having some awful crisis is just going to put a strain on our relationship."
"The question is- are YOU insane? Seonghwa's been trying to get it through your head that he's into you for years and you're just now deciding to have a crisis about it? Relax, maybe. You're not going to die if you admit you like him."
Hongjoong doesn't really have anything to say to that. He's aware that Seonghwa's probably been flirting with him for a lot longer than he's had the mental capacity to handle it, but it doesn't have to really mean anything, does it? Even if it does- it doesn't make a difference. They can't do this. They can't be anything.
"Ugh, all i'm saying is I need to get it together before it affects group activities."
"You're hopeless." Wooyoung tells him, making direct eye contact. It rattles him from the inside. Before he has the chance to say anything else, Wooyoung continues. "We know this, Seonghwa knows this, and I guarantee you that if you just talk to the guy you'll find that it's a lot easier to do your work. He doesn't bite, but you sure wish he did though, right?"
"Enough." Hongjoong says firmly, finally getting up and getting ready to leave. "You're no help."
"You didn't even want help."
He groans one final time before leaving Wooyoung's room. Yeah- that was a dumb decision on his part. He should've known he was signing up to get called stupid.
Well- he wasn't exactly wrong, it just didn't help to hear.
--------
Hongjoong's studio clock was once again speaking to him in the quiet hours of the night. Whispering his name and promising him happiness in the untold. He doesn't listen. Hongjoong knows that it's his mind playing tricks on him. It's past 4AM, after all, and he hasn't properly slept in about 25 hours.
He tries his best to focus on the clothes he was trying to design. A jacket... of some sort, maybe a pair of pants to match. 'It definitely needs a hat' his mind supplies. He tries and he tries, tossing balled up pieces of paper behind him mindlessly. One after another. Nothing is coming to him. He groans- loud and angry- slamming his hands onto the desk and scattering his supplies in every direction.
"What the fuck is my problem?" He asks the empty room. Expectedly, no one answers. His frustration taunts him in the slightest echo bouncing off the walls.
Times in which he's entirely stumped in his creative process, and it feels as though he has just swallowed a boulder that was threatening to drag him to the depths of the earth, have become more frequent recently. Hongjoong works and works, and doesn't sleep. He eats just enough to keep himself upright and he stares at empty pages, types and deletes endless ideas for verses, toys with programs and instruments, and comes out of it with nothing to show for it. His mind refuses to latch onto anything substantial, always resorting to begging for sleep.
Mercifully, and also much to his disappointment, Hongjoong's eyes begin to close, getting heavier and heavier, and his mind begins to wander.
He imagines clothes, elegant and flowy, fitted for someone taller and a wider than himself, with cuts and loose cloth that accentuate the model's figure and draw attention to the curves of their muscles. Tight pants that show off the sharpness of his v-line and the abs that he's been working on lately and- oh god.
Hongjoong bolts upright, his eyes unfocused and pants tighter than they were just a minute ago. He cannot be doing this. This was simply not okay. He had so much work to do, and there he was fantasizing.
The man slaps his face harshly, pleading for his mind to wake up and make use of this moment to get something done.
He's just about to open his sketchbook again in another feeble attempt when suddenly, someone enters his studio.
"Hope i'm not interrupting anything important." Wooyoung says, as he barges in without a warning.
As if guilty of something horrendous, Hongjoong yelps and covers his crotch with his sketchbook, swiveling around to face him.
"What are you doing here?" He hisses.
"Take a guess, it's almost 6AM and you haven't been home since yesterday." Wooyoung says as he sets a bag down on his captain's desk. "I brought you some food."
The man chooses to ignore the casual language, focusing instead on Wooyoung's unexpected presence.
"What are you doing up this early?"
"Yes, you're so welcome, I'm so glad you appreciate my kind efforts." He responds. "Couldn't sleep." His friend plops onto the couch, reclining comfortably.
"Why not?" Hongjoong presses.
"Because of everything. I'm stressed. Tired. Scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Not sure. What, you never just feel scared? Of nothing and of everything." Wooyoung asks, knowing that it's an entirely rhetorical question. Of course he does, they probably wouldn't have gotten as far as they have if he hadn't been deathly scared, but then pushed forward no matter what.
He leaves the question without an answer, severing the train of thought at the root. They're all painfully and deeply aware of just how terrifying the last couple years of their lives have been- even more so than the first few. Everything is new. It's big. It's exciting. And it scares them to the brink of death, regardless of how long they've spent in the spotlight by this point.
"I made you some gochujang-jjigae. Figured you needed the boost." Wooyoung says.
In lieu of an answer, Hongjoong's stomach growls like a wild animal. They both laugh, quiet and exhausted.
Hongjoong stuffs his face with the delicious stew until there's no room in his stomach for another bite. In the meantime, Wooyoung scrolls on his phone without saying a word.
"Haahh." The captain sighs, content. He slumps back in his chair and lets the warmth of the homemade meal wash over him. "Did you eat?"
"I took some quick bites while cooking. I'm not really hungry." He looks up from his phone. "We should go home."
"I can't, I haven't done anything." Hongjoong argues.
"And you won't. Seriously, you aren't doing yourself any favors pushing your body like this."
The captain sighs. "As if you're any better."
"This isn't about me. You can scold me about that after you get some sleep. And maybe talk to Seonghwa."
He gawks, his stomach plummeting like a heavy weight. "This again? I told you I'm not doing it."
"If you'd just quit torturing yourself for the sake of proving something to no one but you, you'd find that working with a clear mind and maybe some emptier balls is a little easier than whatever this is."
"I'm not going home." Hongjoong doubles down, irritated at Wooyoung's sudden change of tone and unnecessary advice. "You go get some sleep. Thank you for the jjigae."
Wooyoung knows what those words mean. 'Get out.' He hears, even though Hongjoong doesn't say it. He leaves without another word. The door shuts quietly, locking behind his friend, and leaving Hongjoong at square one.
--------
February. France. A little over a week after Valentine's day. Hongjoong is itching for something and he has no idea what.
Tour has been exhausting.
Performing is an incredibly gratifying experience for all of them, and it's what drives him and his members day by day. They love the stage, the exhilaration of performance, of dancing and singing along with the fans in the crowd. They love the burn of their muscles as they push themselves to their limits. Hongjoong gets drunk off of their energy, and he knows that the others feel the same.
Still, it's physically draining. His body aches even more than his soul does, his muscles taut and stiff and in need of a proper break after non-stop performing for months. His mind is foggy, and his heart even more so. Hongjoong feels like a black hole that sucks every emotion up and into itself, and he yearns to release this energy in some shape or form.
He has options; He could work on music -he still has unfinished beats on his laptop. He could write some lyrics- there's always songs that need verses. He could even go for a run- but it's freezing cold outside. In the end, he chooses to do nothing- frozen by indecision and exhaustion and left with only his mind that can't seem to start or finish a thought properly. So, he sits. He stares at a wall that displays an abstract painting of some sort, and he listens to the ticking of the fancy french clock on the bedside table in his hotel room.
Hongjoong does something that he never usually does- he lets himself exist. He accepts just how tired he is, and acknowledges the pile of work he has yet to get to- and lets it exist alongside him. It's a momentary relief, but it's progress nonetheless. He's human too, after all, he can't run forever.
Hongjoong doesn't know how much time passes like this, with him staring into nothingness, but a solid knock against his hotel room door jostles him out of his brain fog.
On the other side of it is Seonghwa. Beautiful and smiling Seonghwa in a black tank top and sweatpants. Seonghwa at his door.
He blinks himself into reality.
"Hi?" He says, stupidly.
Seonghwa smiles, clearly endeared by this. "Can I come in?" He asks. Hongjoong steps aside and lets him in.
"Uhh, what can I do for you?" Hongjoong says, though he's not really sure why, his brain is really not working at full capacity right now.
Seonghwa shamelessly laughs at this, covering his mouth with both hands. "Are you room service?"
"I'm just tired." He groans out and plops himself back onto the chair he was just sitting in. His friend, on the other hand, comfortably sits himself atop his messy bed.
"I can go if you wanted to get some rest. Sorry for interrupting." Seonghwa says, looking at him with the same expression that he used to have in the early days of their debut.
The kind of expression that makes it clear that he's observing Hongjoong, and what he sees is someone exhausted and overworked. Someone small. That last part is Hongjoong's own mind supplying adjectives, but in times like this he really does feel small. Wilted like a flower, slumping against the back of the chair just to have something to lean on.
"No." The captain says, firm. "It's okay, I wasn't going to sleep."
"Are you okay?" Hongjoong adds, when he realizes that Seonghwa looks really on edge. Under the surface of his smile is tension. A clenched jaw. Hands that won't stop squeezing themselves in intervals for comfort. A stiff posture.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just really nervous about the fashion show." He admits.
"Ah."
"We've- I've never done anything like this before." Seonghwa corrects himself.
"You're going to do amazing. Trust me."
"I can only hope so, there's really no time for me to practice walking. What if I look painfully out of place?" He continues.
"You won't. You're incredible, no matter how little time you have, I know you'll pick it up and blend right in. No one will have a clue that it's your first time walking. They'll go "Woah! Who is that professional model? Oh, he's an idol? I would've never guessed!" Believe me, Seonghwa, you're going to wow everyone." Hongjoong rattles on, unable to keep his adoration of Seonghwa in. His tone and gaze are so clearly fond that he's sure even a stranger would be able to tell that he's too far gone.
And Seonghwa is not a stranger. No, he's a friend. His best friend. Someone he's been dancing around for the better half of a decade. So, of course, he senses it too.
Seonghwa smiles, tension partially lifted, and Hongjoong swears his eyes sparkle in the white light of his bedside lamp.
"Thank you." He says quietly.
"Im just telling the truth. You were born for this. Just like you were born to be on stage."
His friend laughs. "Stop it. You're making my heart race."
Hongjoong hums, unsure of what to say. A heavy silence settles in the room. Suddenly, Hongjoong feels like he might burst at any moment, and he wonders if Seonghwa feels the same across from him. He can't seem to force himself to make eye contact, so he simply sits- quiet, acting as if this silence between them isn't tying his stomach into knots.
Seonghwa steals glances at him from under his white bangs, which lay flat across his forehead after he's trimmed them just a little. The room is quiet except for the hum of the heater by the window that fills the captain's mind with white noise.
Something has changed between them in the last year. Hongjoong knows it, and he's more than sure that Seonghwa knows it too. Though, he can't say if it's because of the very little time they'd spent together outside of work, or because this thing that's been building for the last 10 years is finally beginning to burst. Possibly both, which is the scariest part. No matter what they do, or don't do- it remains. It haunts them both, looming above them like a storm cloud. This attraction. Love. Need.
This want. It remains.
It builds day by day. Threatens to explode right in their faces.
And it's all Hongjoong's fault, too. He's been the deciding factor in all this, all these years. He's the one that's been vehemently denying Seonghwa's comments, his jokes, his flirting. The captain couldn't allow himself this. He still doesn't.
It isn't his to have.
Seonghwa speaks first. It startles him. Hongjoong prays it doesn't show on his face. He's sure that it does.
"Hongjoong..." He says, tentative. Careful. Bordering on scared.
"Hm?" He hums in question, afraid that if he speaks his voice will crack pathetically and reveal just how vulnerable he feels right now.
Seonghwa doesn't speak again for a few seconds. He gnaws on his bottom lip, clearly thinking something over. Hongjoong can practically see his brain and heart working overtime.
"You're...my best friend." He finally says. But it's different from all the other times he's said it. There's something raw about it, something that teeters on a confession disguised as a friendly comment. It confuses the man. Seonghwa has never been shy in telling Hongjoong that he loves him, much less telling him that he's his best friend.
This- this is different. Seonghwa has spent so long attempting to make something out of nothing between them, and now he's scared. Scared that Hongjoong doesn't feel the same- maybe. Or maybe it's that he's coming to terms with the fact that they can't have it, even if he does.
Hongjoong swallows, his throat dry and heavy with the pit he can't swallow down no matter how hard he tries. He breathes in, ragged and emotionally spent.
"And you're mine." He replies, and it comes out so wrong. So possessive, needy, yearning. He immediately regrets it, but it's out there. He can't do a thing except watch as several emotions wash over Seonghwa's face in quick succession.
"Ah." Seonghwa's voice stutters and cracks.
"No. Sorry- I didn't mean-" He tries to correct himself, but there isn't anything he can say that will make it better.
"It's okay. I'm yours." Seonghwa says, trying to tease, but he's so quiet and gentle with his delivery that it doesn't come across that way at all. This phrase certainly doesn't feel friendly. There's no other way to spin this, he's offering himself to Hongjoong, and waiting tentatively for him to reach out and accept him as he is.
"You're crazy." Hongjoong says, instead, because he's terrified.
His friend breathes out in a laugh, but it sounds dry and hurt. "We should get some sleep." He says, and Hongjoong knows exactly what that means.
"Right. Goodnight, Seonghwa."
"Goodnight, Hongjoong. Get some rest." Seonghwa replies, caring as always.
Hongjoong's heart contorts as the door closes behind him. The man grips his head in his trembling hands.
He's such a fucking idiot.
--------
The day of the fashion show comes. Hongjoong stays up in anticipation. Seonghwa calls, and he answers.
They talk for so long that Hongjoong forgets he hasn't slept. All he can focus on is Seonghwa and how proud of him he is. He reminds his friend of this- over and over. How proud he is. How well Hongjoong knows he'll do. How amazing he's going to look. How hard he's worked. He can practically see the smile on Seonghwa's face as he speaks.
For a moment- a faltering glimpse- everything feels okay. This is easy, the dance they do. A tennis match of compliments and praise. Of reassurance and mutual respect. Words (not so) secretly sprinkled with confessions neither of them say out loud.
The day ends much quicker than it begins. Before either of them know it, the show is over.
Seonghwa's first ever walk goes so incredibly well, just like Hongjoong knew it would. He looks stunning, breathtaking, gorgeous. Any and every positive descriptive word under the sun. It was all him, and more.
Hongjoong doesn't sleep. Instead, he sketches. He draws all the angles he finds online, paying closer attention to Seonghwa's face than the clothes themselves, and makes sure to get every detail right. Still, he cannot capture the true beauty of his face. No one can. No photo, video or drawing can capture Seonghwa as he is.
Hongjoong yearns. He aches and he slams his head against the desk and wonders why things had to end up like this.
Hongjoong wouldn't trade his job for anything in the world. Not a single thing. Except for knowing what Seonghwa's lips feel like against his. If he could give it up- just for a tiny moment- he would.
If he could know, without consequence, he would give up anything it took.
Alas, with their lives come consequences. And with their job comes punishment. Both private and public.
Still- he's a weak and pathetic man, so he dreams of it anyway.
--------
Seonghwa cuts his hair and he looks unfairly handsome.
Hongjoong stutters over his words as he tells him this. Seonghwa smiles, shy and ridiculously happy. The captain's heart thrums the tune to a love song that belongs to no one but him.
--------
One tour ends, and another one is announced. They work themselves to the bone preparing. Hongjoong's mind is flooded with nothing but work.
Seonghwa's birthday comes, goes. He rudely doesn't post a damn thing about it. His friend doesn't comment on it, but he knows he's hurt. They go out for a group lunch to celebrate and Hongjoong, being the idiot that he is, can't even look at him. The night ends awkwardly. Painfully. They go their separate ways and Hongjoong beats himself up about it, the same way that he always does, and yet nothing changes.
--------
Their collective workload grows, which means that Hongjoong's workload doubles- if not triples.
He can't complain too much, though, the solo songs have been such an exciting and new project for all of them, and it has made Hongjoong fall in love with producing all over again.
Being able to curate a song for his friends as individual artists, to take what they're best at, what they enjoy most, what they wish to say, and combine it into a project that they can pour their entire heart into is such an incredible gift to him. It brings him joy as much as it also gives him purpose. Hongjoong beams with pride, knowing that the nervous kids they once were are now seasoned performers and confident artists. It is the greatest gift of his life to have been able to watch them all bloom, and to bloom alongside them.
Their lives and artistic visions are so intertwined that it doesn't take much for him to nail the vibe that each member is going for. If there's one thing Hongjoong can pride himself on, it's knowing his members well. As people and as performers.
It was through the writing and production process of Seonghwa's first solo song that Hongjoong really comes to understand just how deeply he trusts him with his heart.
The captain admires how vulnerable and open he's being with the telling of this story that belongs to him and him alone. With each idea that Seonghwa throws at him, Hongjoong sees a new side of his best friend. He was right in saying that even a decade later they still learn new things about one another.
--------
It hits him all at once, on a random night in his studio.
He's polishing the beats for Skin, going through the progressions over and over until they feel right, until they convey the emotions Seonghwa was describing. He listens to the recording of his friend's voice, to the tones and the breaths that come between them. He holds his breath as the Seonghwa in his headphones sings, alluring and dangerous like a snake. His heart beats wildly in his chest, like a caged animal.
Hongjoong's mind always betrays him when it comes to thinking about Seonghwa, and eventually he ends up thinking about his unresolved feelings. For the first time in years, he allows his mind to question why it is that they can't have this. Why he's so scared.
'He trusts me, so why don't I trust myself? Why can't I handle this with grace?' He thinks, his mind wandering so far past song production that his laptop screen goes dark without the man even noticing.
They have all dealt with so much and refused to deny themselves endless things in the past, so why should he deny himself this?
Why?
Is it really about what's best for everyone? Or does his fear of messing things up go beyond the group?
He doesn't trust himself to be good, Hongjoong realizes, in the midst of his spiral. Doesn't trust himself to be there, to be honest with his feelings the way Seonghwa deserves.
He's addicted to his work, so he's gone more often than he's there. He has a hard time opening up face to face, though he's definitely trying. He doesn't know what a good date is, doesn't have time to relax the way that Seonghwa probably wishes he would. It isn't the kind of life that someone should live, unless they have to. And Hongjoong doesn't want Seonghwa to feel like he has to.
But at the same time, Seonghwa knows all this. He's known Hongjoong for a decade, watched him grow into himself, listened to him thank him through song when simple words felt like they wouldn't suffice, he's allowed him space when he needed it and reassured him when his self doubt got the better of him. So above everything else, Seonghwa deserves honesty. He deserves Hongjoong's genuine, heartfelt attempt at being better. For his sake and for theirs.
So there, in the studio all by himself, he finally makes up his mind. Hongjoong faces 10 years of fear, insecurity, and doubt, closes his laptop and heads towards their dorms.
The, entirely silent, drive over might be the closest Hongjoong will ever get to experiencing medieval torture methods. Luckily for him though, San and Mingi aren't home tonight. This he knows because they couldn't stop going on and on about finally getting some 'SanMinki' time after practice. Whatever that meant. At least the universe was merciful enough to let him avoid the humiliating vulnerability of it all.
When Hongjoong arrives, he doesn't knock. Instead, he lets himself in with the door code without so much as announcing his presence. Hongjoong had never just come into their dorm on his own before, not until tonight.
He approaches Seonghwa's bedroom door, feeling like a complete creep for just looming there and breathing heavily to himself.
Hongjoong takes a deep breath, and knocks.
"Come in!" Seonghwa says, from the other side of the door. The confusion on his face would've made the man laugh, if his whole body wasn't burning hot with fear.
"Hongjoong, hi! What's up? Did something happen?"
Seonghwa is taking notes, by the looks of it, he's in his pajamas because it's late and his hair is pushed back with a headband that has a cute character on it that Hongjoong doesn't recognize. His face is dewy, freshly washed and slightly red from where he massaged himself. Hongjoong wants him like this more than any other version of Seonghwa. The Seonghwa that's raw, real, genuine. The Seonghwa that's exhausted but still smiling. The Seonghwa that still wants him at his worst. The one that's been waiting for him for what feels like eternity.
"Can we uh- can we talk? Please?" He stammers out, not knowing what to do with his hands. Hongjoong cycles between putting them in his pockets, holding them by his sides like limp sausages, and scratching the back of his neck.
"Yes of course, have a seat." Seonghwa says, seemingly calm and collected. But Hongjoong knows all too well that he's nervous too. Especially with a conversation starter like that.
He sits across from Seonghwa, taking up as little space as possible on the edge of his bed, while Seonghwa spins around on his desk chair to face him. Their legs touch, silver colored silk to cold denim. Their hands stay far apart.
"What's going on?" He asks, beginning to sound scared.
"I'm sorry." Hongjoong chokes out, because he owes Seonghwa an apology. Or ten.
"For what?"
"For so many things. For always turning you down, for never being home when we lived together, for being a coward for so many years."
Seonghwa's face falls. It's a painful sight. "Oh Hongjoong, It's okay."
"It isn't though, I just- I don't understand, how can you be so patient with me?" He asks, because he needs to know. He would've gotten fed up with himself long ago.
"We don't exactly live normal lives. I know that things aren't and haven't been easy for you, especially. I'm willing to wait as long as it takes."
His gentle tone and the way he's looking at Hongjoong and being brave hurts more than anything in the world. Even now, he's extending his heart to Hongjoong.
This time, he's going to accept it. No matter what it takes. No matter how scared he is.
"That doesn't mean that you should have to suffer because of me."
"You're being a little too hard on yourself, Joongie. I'm not suffering. You need time, and I have time." He smiles, the edges of his mouth curling just so.
"You're too good."
"I'm not. I'm human too, but I also understand that you've been put in an incredibly difficult position. Still, I always wanted you to know how much I care about you."
"Is that all?" He tries to joke, to lighten the mood, but also to run from having to be the first one to say it, despite his resolve.
Seonghwa doesn't laugh, he just furrows his brows in confusion.
"Is what all?"
"You just care about me?"
"Are you really going to make me say it first even after you broke into my apartment?"
Hongjoong exhales from his nose, harsh and self deprecating. "Right. I'm being a coward again, aren't I?"
"Just a little."
He laughs, despite himself. "I...really really like you. I love you. A ridiculous amount. I think it's been that way since the very beginning. before we even debuted, before we knew if any of this was going to work out. I loved you even then. You're the kindest person I've ever met and I wouldn't have been able to come this far without you by my side. And all I've given you in return is mixed signals and cowardice. I'm sorry, and thank you." When Hongjoong starts, he can't stop. The words keep coming out of his mouth without his mind's filter being able to stop them. He feels the pin pricks of tears in the corners of his eyes. Searing hot shame flows through him. This should not be so difficult.
"Oh."
His stomach plummets. "Is something wrong?"
"No. No, nothing is wrong I just wasn't expecting that. I love you too, Hongjoong. I've loved you since the very beginning too, you have to know that." Seonghwa is smiling wide now, unrestrained and beautiful. His eyes sparkle cartoonishly. It lifts thousands of tons of pressure off of Hongjoong's heart.
"I do know that, I felt it. I always felt it."
"Good. I always felt your love too, in all the weird ways you'd express it. So don't beat yourself up for taking a while to say it outright."
The man feels like he could fall to the ground and weep. The evil, awful, mean part of his mind tells him that he doesn't deserve this courtesy, but he ignores it and accepts it anyways.
"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, for everything." He says, like a prayer. And it kind of is. Very few people would be willing to wait for Hongjoong for as long as Seonghwa has, and it makes him all the more grateful that fate brought them together. All of them.
For all he knows, there's a universe out there where they orbit each other forever, Seonghwa waits and waits and waits for nothing at all, and things fizzle out before they ever get the chance to know how it feels to hold one another and truly know that both of them share the same devotion.
He's eternally grateful that it isn't this one. That he can know.
"Thank you, Hongjoong. You don't know how much you've done for me without even realizing." Seonghwa breaths out, sounding beaten and worn in all the best ways. Being vulnerable really takes it out of a person, Hongjoong's realized.
"I'll do even more. I'll do so much and I'll do it all without fear. I promise you."
"I look forward to it."
They smile at one another awkwardly, the distance between them remaining like a wall. Neither of them knows what to do. They've never done this before, never confessed, and never so genuinely.
"Is it- Should- Can I-" Hongjoong starts first, despite stuttering pathetically, he's made up his mind and he's going to be brave. Even if it means looking like a fucking idiot.
"Yes." Seonghwa responds, quick and obviously excited. But also terribly nervous.
Hongjoong places an unsure hand on Seonghwa's chair to stabilize him and grabs his pajamas as gently as he can with the other hand and leans forward. The cloth of their pants melds together as the distance between them becomes smaller and smaller. Time warps in the very few seconds it takes them to finally touch. It's terrifying and exciting all at once.
Seonghwa's lips are just as soft and sweet as he had imagined them to be. He can taste a hint of cherry gloss that Seonghwa had applied earlier that night. He wants to lick it all off until he too tastes like fake cherry flavoring. Hongjoong is already addicted.
The man's lips tremble as they part from Seonghwa's, then return to their rightful place. He can feel the smile on Seonghwa's face as they kiss, gentle and sweet. Patient. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, Hongjoong is still afraid.
Seonghwa stands, awkward and with shaking legs like a baby deer. Instinctively, Hongjoong lifts his head to look him in the eyes, which are sparkling delicately, his lips tremble as he bites back an overjoyed smile. Hongjoong wants to kiss him every moment of every day for the rest of their lives. Then, his friend plops himself onto his lap, his strong, muscular legs landing on either side of Hongjoong's body, and effectively pushing him a little farther backwards.
"Is this okay?" Seonghwa asks, and he looks so beautiful that it takes Hongjoong a second to collect himself. He reaches out, sliding Seonghwa's silly headband off of his head, which makes the hairs of his recently washed bangs bounce in both directions.
"Yes." He breathes out, mesmerized and in love. "More than okay."
Without another word, Seonghwa lunges forward and kisses him, more heated this time, more intense. Their lips move in tandem, refusing to break away. A peck. And then another. Then Seonghwa bites at his bottom lip, light as a feather. The action sends electric shocks down Hongjoong's spine. He lets out a breath involuntarily, then returns that same intensity.
The heat of Seonghwa's body on top of his is dizzying, incredible, and better than anything Hongjoong's dreams could have ever come up with. His weight is so tangibly real, his presence unmistakable. Only Seonghwa feels like this, Hongjoong is sure of it. Only he is this soft, this beautiful and powerful all at the same time. Only he kisses with the hunger of a snake that has set its sights on its prey. Only he loves in such a way that leaves Hongjoong breathless.
Seonghwa's steady, large hands find their way to the sides of the captain's neck, his thumbs resting on the sharp edges of his jaw. Hongjoong's hands travel up from the sides of his waist to the strong abs he's built from months of work, to the sturdy planes of his chest. He lets them rest there.
"Do you like them?" Seonghwa asks, as he breaks away, much to Hongjoong's painful disappointment.
"What?" He says, dizzy and unable to catch his breath. He's desperate to get the man's mouth back on his own.
"My muscles."
Hongjoong snorts. "You seriously stopped kissing me to ask me if I like your muscles?"
Seonghwa smiles fondly at him. "I just wanted to know. You've been staring at them a lot recently, did you know that?"
"You noticed?"
"I notice everything about you, Hongjoongie. So?"
Hongjoong leans forward, placing the lightest peck on Seonghwa's lips, because he can. Because he's allowed. "Yes, I like them. I like you."
His friend? laughs. "I think you're cool too, I guess."
"Rude."
"Whaaat, why? You are cool." Seonghwa is teasing him. It's working.
"Kiss me. Please." He's begging, and he knows how desperate he sounds, but he doesn't care.
"Yes, Captain." He says, attaching himself to Hongjoong with passion before the man even gets the chance to groan at his cringy mannerisms that he loves so dearly, and yet is equally annoyed by. They're two sides of the same coin, he thinks. Annoyance and endearment. Seonghwa teeters over both sides, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
They kiss with hunger, desperation, and the dire need to know each other in a way they hadn't been able to for a torturous decade. As their grown selves connect like puzzle pieces, so do the young, unsure, and scared versions them that still reside inside their hearts. He rarely feels 20 anymore, but at this moment, he feels 20 in all the ways that hurt. He hopes that his younger self forgives him for this wait. For the hundreds of nights he had spent convincing himself that teetering the line between friends and lovers was enough. That dancing in the shadows of the unsaid words between them would keep him alive forever.
Hongjoong is a confident man, in most ways. He doesn't doubt himself as much as he used to, thats for sure. He's grown a lot, thanks to his friends. But deep inside, he is still the lonely high schooler that he once was. The kid that worked and worked until his parents worried, and his mind was exhausted.
They fall back on the bed, their lips still connected as if sewn together. Hongjoong's body flops onto the incredibly soft blanket atop Seonghwa's bed, and all of his worries disappear. Seonghwa pulls away again, and Hongjoong claws at his arms because he never wants to part from him again, now that he knows what his body feels like against his.
"I love you. I love you so much. I'll tell you as many times as you want. Just name a number." Seonghwa says, his pupils blown and lips red.
"A million?" Hongjoong says, in a whisper.
"Then I'll tell you a million times."
"How about two million?" He pulls forwards, touching his forehead to Seonghwa's. Compared to him, Hongjoong is fairly dirty. Not showered, not even in his pajamas.
"As many as you need. I love you so much." Seonghwa says, against his skin. His warm breath makes Hongjoong shiver.
"I love you." He answers, voice confident and sure. Because he does, and Seonghwa is allowed to know.
He knows now, the dangerous thing about required love. The twisted, intoxicating feeling of wanting to be here forever. Until death do them part. He knows that their hearts beat in tandem, humming the very same love song that Hongjoong once thought was his little secret.
He shares the song with the man he adores, and with it he shares his soul. Hongjoong beams with joy. Seonghwa was right. All of this- everything they had been through up to this point- was worth it.