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The barracks quiet in that way that only happens past midnight lights dimmed, footsteps rare, the world narrowed down to muffled breathing and the hum of fluorescent bulbs.
Jaehyun closes the door softly behind him.
He loosens his cap, shoulders aching from the day, already thinking about sleep when he notices it his bed doesn’t look right.
The blanket is wrinkled. One pillow is missing.
Jaehyun’s eyes lift.
Jungwoo is lying there, on his bed, hands folded on his chest, staring at the ceiling like he belongs.
For a long second, Jaehyun just watches him.
“…Private Kim Jungwoo,” he finally says, voice low. “Why are you on my bed.”
Jungwoo turns his head slowly, like he’s been expecting this. “Oh. You’re back.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Jungwoo smiles, small and unapologetic. “I got tired.”
Jaehyun exhales through his nose and steps closer. “You have your own bed.”
“Yes, but yours is cleaner.”
“That’s not a valid reason.”
“It is to m3.”
Jaehyun drops his cap on the desk. “How dare a private lie on a sergeant’s bed? Your military discipline is all wrong.”
Jungwoo chuckles, rolling onto his side to face him. “You sound exactly like yourself, hyung.”
“Thats because I’m right.”
Jaehyun reaches for the blanket, intending to pull it off him really, he does but Jungwoo speaks again, voice suddenly lighter.
“Hyung, did you know Taeyong-hyung has a concert today?”
Jaehyun pauses. His hand stills.
“…What?”
Jungwoo’s eyes gleam. “See?”
Jaehyun straightens. “I knew.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
Jungwoo props himself up on his elbow. “He called me earlier.”
“He told me yesterday.”
“Then why did you react like that?”
Jaehyun opens his mouth, then closes it. “…That’s not relevant.”
Jungwoo laughs softly, the sound echoing too loud in the quiet room. “So I knew first.”
Jaehyun clicks his tongue and sits down at the edge of the bed, close enough that their shoulders almost touch. “Even if you did, that doesn’t give you permission to be here.”
Jungwoo hums. “You sat down anyway.”
“That’s temporary.”
“Mm.”
Silence stretches between them not awkward, just full. The kind that settles naturally when you’ve spent too much time together to need constant words.
Jungwoo lies back down, staring at the ceiling again. “It’s quiet tonight.”
“It always is.”
“No,” Jungwoo says. “This kind of quiet.”
Jaehyun follows his gaze upward. The ceiling is cracked in one corner, paint peeling slightly. He’s noticed it before. Never really looked at it.
“…You should go back to your bed,” he says, but there’s no edge to it now.
Jungwoo doesn’t move. “Can I stay for a bit?”
Jaehyun hesitates.
Rank. Rules. Discipline.
Then he exhales. “Just for a bit.”
Jungwoo turns his head, smiling not wide, not teasing. Soft. Grateful.
He shifts closer, careful this time, like he knows the permission is fragile. Their shoulders touch. Then their arms.
Jaehyun doesn’t pull away.
“You worry too much, hyung,” Jungwoo murmurs.
“And you don’t worry enough.”
“That’s why we balance each other.”
Jaehyun scoffs quietly, but he lets his head fall back against the wall. His eyes close.
Minutes pass.
Jungwoo’s breathing evens out, slow and warm beside him. Jaehyun realizes, distantly, that he’s tired in a way sleep alone doesn’t fix.
“…Jungwoo,” he says softly.
“Mm?”
“Next time,” Jaehyun adds, eyes still closed, “ask before lying on my bed.”
Jungwoo smiles into the pillow. “Okay.”
A pause.
“But you’ll still say yes, right?”
Jaehyun doesn’t answer.
He just reaches out, tugging the blanket higher over them both.
The night has settled deep into the barracks, the kind that presses gently against the walls and makes everything feel heavier than it should.
Jaehyun is already breathing slow, when Jungwoo shifts beside him.
The mattress creaks softly.
Jaehyun stirs. “Jungwoo?”
“I’m here,” Jungwoo answers, quieter than usual.
Jaehyun hums and turns onto his side, eyes barely open. “You’re thinking again.”
Jungwoo doesn’t tell anyone how quiet the world becomes after Jaehyun enlists.
Not really.
On the outside, everything still moves. Schedules pile up. Practice rooms stay loud. People laugh, complain, live. Jungwoo does all of that too he smiles when he’s supposed to, talks when he’s asked, keeps himself busy so no one worries.
But nights are different.
At night, when he finally lies down, phone face-up on the bed, volume turned just a little higher than usual, the quiet sinks in.
Jaehyun used to call at night.
Not every night but often enough that Jungwoo learned to expect it. Learned to leave space for it.
The first week after enlistment, Jungwoo checks his phone constantly. Every vibration makes his heart jump.
Most of the time, it’s not Jaehyun.
When it finally is, the call is short. Jaehyun sounds tired. Careful.
“How are you?” Jaehyun asks.
“I’m good,” Jungwoo answers automatically.
They don’t say much more than that.
After the call ends, Jungwoo stares at the screen for a long time.
He wonders if Jaehyun is doing the same.
Jungwoo starts noticing Jaehyun everywhere.
In empty chairs. In half-finished conversations. In things he wants to tell someone but doesn’t know how to put into words through a screen.
Sometimes, while eating alone, he catches himself thinking, Hyung would steal this from my plate.
He almost laughs then doesn’t.
There are nights when Jungwoo types messages..
Are you sleeping enough?
Did anyone yell at you today?
I miss you.
Then he sends photos. Small things. The sky. Food. A practice room light left on too late.
Jaehyun replies when he can.
Looks cold.
Eat properly.
Don’t stay up too late.
Jungwoo reads those messages over and over, pretending they mean more than they’re allowed to.
The hardest part isn’t the distance.
It’s the waiting.
Waiting for replies. Waiting for updates. Waiting for the version of Jaehyun that can speak freely again.
Jungwoo counts time in strange ways now by phone calls, by letters, by how long it’s been since he last heard Jaehyun laugh properly.
Sometimes, Jungwoo lies on his own bed and imagines what Jaehyun’s looks like now. Neater. Stricter. Less him.
He wonders if Jaehyun feels lonely.
He hopes he doesn’t.
He hopes he does.
The guilt comes immediately after.
The day Jungwoo realizes he’s going to enlist too, he sits alone for a long time.
He thinks about telling Jaehyun right away.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he waits for their next call.
Jaehyun sounds exhausted that night. His voice is steady, but Jungwoo knows him too well.
“You don’t have to sound okay,” Jungwoo says softly.
Jaehyun laughs quietly. “I’m fine.”
Jungwoo presses his lips together.
“I miss you,” he almost says.
He doesn’t.
After the call, Jungwoo lies awake, staring at the ceiling, heart heavy with things unsaid.
If I enlist, he thinks, maybe I’ll understand you better.
The thought scares him.
It comforts him too.
By the time Jungwoo finally tells Jaehyun he’s enlisting, he’s already made peace with the idea.
Jaehyun goes quiet on the other end.
“…When?” Jaehyun asks.
“Soon.”
There’s a pause.
“I didn’t want you to feel alone,” Jungwoo admits, voice barely above a whisper. “Not the way I did.”
After that call, Jungwoo packs slowly.
He keeps one thing aside a hoodie Jaehyun left behind, faintly familiar, still comforting.
He presses it to his face once, then folds it carefully.
“I’ll see you soon,” he murmurs to the empty room.
And for the first time since Jaehyun enlisted, Jungwoo lets himself cry.
Jungwoo exhales. He stares at the ceiling the same crack, the same peeling paint. He’s stared at it through too many nights alone.
“…Do you remember,” he says slowly, “when you enlisted?”
Jaehyun opens his eyes this time.
“Of course I do.”
Jaehyun swallows. “It was harder back then.”
Jaehyun doesn’t interrupt. He just listens.
Back then, Jaehyun’s world had shrunk overnight.
No stages. No schedules he chose himself. Just early mornings, rigid rules, and nights that felt too long.
The first few weeks were the worst.
He would lie on his bunk, staring at the ceiling of a different barracks, surrounded by strangers who became familiar too slowly. His phone time was limited, precious. Messages came in fragments.
Did you eat?
Are you okay?
I miss you.
Jungwoo always sounded cheerful. Too cheerful.
Jaehyun hated that most of all.
There were nights when he held his phone tighter than necessary, rereading old messages, old photos Jungwoo laughing, Jungwoo mid-sentence, Jungwoo looking at him like he was something worth holding onto.
He wasn’t allowed to say everything.
So he didn’t.
“I used to count the days,” Jaehyun admits quietly. “Not until discharge. Just until the next time I could hear your voice.”
Jungwoo’s fingers curl slightly into the blanket.
“I knew,” he says softly.
Jaehyun turns his head. “You did?”
Jungwoo nods. “You always sounded tired when you called. Like you were holding yourself together.”
Jaehyun lets out a short, breathless laugh. “I was.”
The room grows quieter.
“I didn’t want to burden you,” Jaehyun continues. “You were still out there. Living. Working. Smiling.”
Jungwoo shifts closer. Their knees touch under the blanket.
“You think it wasn’t hard for me?” Jungwoo asks, voice gentle but firm.
Jaehyun doesn’t answer.
Jungwoo stares at the wall now, eyes unfocused. “I’d wake up and think, Hyung’s already awake. Or Hyung’s probably exhausted right now.”
He swallows. “Every time I saw your name on my phone, my heart dropped a little.”
“Why?” Jaehyun whispers.
“Because I missed you,” Jungwoo says simply. “And because I couldn’t do anything about it.”
Silence stretches.
“I went to places alone,” Jungwoo continues. “Ate meals alone. Even laughed alone. And every time, I thought Jaehyun would’ve liked this.”
Jaehyun’s chest tightens.
“I counted too,” Jungwoo admits. “Just… quietly.”
Jaehyun shifts, turning fully toward him now. Their faces are close, close enough that Jungwoo can see the tired softness in his eyes.
“When you told me you were enlisting,” Jaehyun says, “I didn’t know how to react.”
Jungwoo smiles faintly. “You went quiet.”
“I was scared,” Jaehyun says. “I didn’t want you to feel what I felt.”
Jungwoo reaches out, fingers brushing Jaehyun’s sleeve. “I already did.”
Jaehyun closes his eyes.
“There were nights,” Jungwoo murmurs, “when I’d imagine you here. Sitting like this. Complaining about rules. Telling me to sleep.”
Jaehyun lets out a breath. “I would’ve.”
“I know.”
Their foreheads almost touch now.
“I missed you,” Jaehyun says finally, the words heavy and long overdue. “More than I ever let myself say.”
Jungwoo’s eyes soften. “I missed you too.”
Jaehyun hesitates then pulls Jungwoo closer, slow and careful, like he’s afraid the moment might disappear if he moves too fast.
Jungwoo melts into him easily.
They sit there, sharing warmth, sharing breath.
Outside, the barracks remain quiet.
Inside, for the first time in a long while, neither of them feels alone.
--
Taeyong finds out by accident.
Which, honestly, is the most dangerous way for Jaehyun and Jungwoo.
They’re on a call video, this time. Taeyong’s hair is still damp, towel slung over his shoulder, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who just finished rehearsals.
“So,” Taeyong says casually, leaning closer to the screen. “Why were you two calling me at the same time the other night?”
Jungwoo freezes.
Jaehyun blinks. “We weren’t--”
“You were,” Taeyong cuts in. “Same minute. Same number of rings. Like a married couple checking in.”
Jungwoo coughs. “Hyung..”
“And,” Taeyong continues, eyes gleaming, “why did Jungwoo say I had a concert but Jaehyun sounded offended by the information?”
Jaehyun groans quietly. “You told him that part?”
Jungwoo shrugs. “You told the interviewer.”
“I didn’t think it would end up everywhere,” Taeyong says, grinning. “But now it’s my favorite story.”
Jungwoo sinks lower into the frame. “Hyung…”
“So,” Taeyong says, tilting his head. “Whose bed was it really?”
Silence.
Jaehyun closes his eyes.
“…Mine,” he admits.
Taeyong’s smile spreads slowly, dangerously. “Oh?”
“He was tired,” Jaehyun adds quickly. “It was late.”
“Mhm.” Taeyong nods. “And?”
“And he shouldn’t have been there,” Jaehyun says.
“But he stayed,” Taeyong presses.
Jaehyun doesn’t answer.
Jungwoo peeks up. “Hyung, it wasn’t like that.”
Taeyong laughs. “Sure. That’s exactly what people say when it is like that.”
Jungwoo groans and hides his face with his hands.
“You know,” Taeyong continues, voice softer now, “I was wondering how you two were holding up.”
That makes them both look at him.
“You didn’t say much back then,” Taeyong says. “Both of you. Jaehyun went quiet. Jungwoo smiled too much.”
Jungwoo’s hands drop.
Jaehyun swallows.
“So hearing that you were arguing over beds and concerts?” Taeyong smiles gently. “Kind of comforting.”
Jaehyun exhales. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m observant,” Taeyong corrects. “And very patient.”
Jungwoo laughs softly. “He waited this long just to tease us.”
“Of course,” Taeyong says. “I earned it.”
He pauses, then adds, “You’re okay now, right?”
Jaehyun nods. Jungwoo nods too.
Taeyong’s teasing grin returns instantly. “Good. Because I expect both of you at my next concert.”
Jungwoo perks up. “Together?”
Taeyong smirks. “Obviously.”
Jaehyun mutters, “…He’s never letting this go.”
Taeyong hears it anyway. “Never.”
The call ends with Taeyong waving cheerfully and Jaehyun and Jungwoo sitting side by side, shoulders touching, a little embarrassed, a little lighter.
This time, when Jungwoo leans into him, Jaehyun doesn’t pretend to protest.
--