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Geonwoo isn’t mad, he is just disappointed.
The whole world can see how much he likes Anxin. He isn’t shy about it, no, the youngest is just so cute and fun to be around, his laughter like a burst of sunlight, making it impossible for Geonwoo not to fall for his charm.
And Anxin makes an effort to befriend and get close to everyone in the group, everyone but him.
So Geonwoo stops bothering him, because that’s what it looks like. Whenever he approaches, Anxin’s warm eyes shutter closed, offering only a restrained, polite smile. Everybody else gets the real one, the one that crinkles his eyes and lights up his whole face. Geonwoo sees the subtle flinch, the almost imperceptible shift away whenever he initiates any form of skinship.
It isn’t the same with the others.
Anxin clings to Sangwon like a second skin, their shoulders brushing. He seeks out Jiahao as a safety net, his posture instantly relaxing in his presence. Xinlong gets special treatment, the two of them falling into rapid, laughing Mandarin that creates a private world. Anxin tolerates Leo’s playful antics with fond exasperation, and he shares a comfortable, respectful silence with Junseo. And Sanghyung, the other youngest, is simply doted on by all, Anxin included.
The problem is Geonwoo.
This simple, brutal truth hits him on a random Tuesday as they’re getting ready for their schedule.
He’s not mad about it; he has simply accepted it. Now, he sits far from Anxin in the van, no longer seeking his gaze or tossing jokes in his direction. He maintains a polite, understanding, coworker-like relationship. Geonwoo isn't rude to him, no. He simply values himself enough to stop breaking his own heart.
Anxin starts realizing something is wrong when the reactions he expects fail to arrive. He finishes a performance on stage and turns to his right, his expression poised for a certain goofy grin or an encouraging wink, but finds only Geonwoo's calm, neutral profile. He turns away, the silence where a comment should have been ringing loudly in his ears. He doesn't understand the sudden, quiet void.
The truth comes out under the bright, unforgiving lights of an interview. The host asks Anxin which member he feels the most awkward with. Anxin fumbles, his words tangling as he tries to sidestep the question, his cheeks flushing slightly.
At the exact same moment, Geonwoo, his voice quiet but clear, offers a simple, "Me?"
A sudden, frozen silence falls over the set. Every head, including a wide-eyed Anxin's, turns to look at him.
“But he’s the one you pamper the most.” Sangwon speaks, not understanding the tension he’s poking at. “You’re always around him.”
“I’m fine with him, but he is awkward with me. Everybody can see that, it’s fine.” You can’t force affection, he wants to add but doesn’t. The words hang, unspoken but felt by everyone.
“What’s happening?” Sanghyun whispers, confused by the sudden chill in the air, before Jiahao gently shushes him.
Geonwoo’s polite smile doesn't leave his face, a carefully maintained mask, but it doesn't reach his eyes, which remain calm and distant. Across from him, Anxin’s expressive eyes are still wide with a quiet panic, the conversation unfinished but abandoned as the segment clumsily moves on.
Once it’s all over, the bright lights dimmed and the crowd's echo faded, Anxin finds Geonwoo as he finishes taking pictures. The older is slipping his phone into his pocket, his posture relaxed in a way that feels newly unapproachable.
“Hyung!” Anxin calls out, closing the distance before Geonwoo can walk away. He stops a little too close, invading the careful space Geonwoo has so recently created. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt that way. I promise I’ll do better.”
Something flashes in Geonwoo’s face before it smooths over into a gentle, practiced smile. “It’s fine, Anxin-ah. You don’t need to do anything.”
It’s not fine, and Anxin realizes with a sinking heart that Geonwoo has properly taken steps back away from him. He can now see the distance clearly; even though he is physically stepping into Geonwoo's personal space, the older boy feels miles away. There is no genuine smile crinkling his eyes, no familiar hand ruffling his hair, no fond fingers pinching his cheek. Anxin feels lost.
It’s not like he doesn’t like Geonwoo, no. He does. He might like him a bit more than everybody else in the room, and that’s the problem. Anxin doesn’t know how to deal with these feelings, so he had hidden behind awkward smiles and subtle retreats, hoping no one would notice the frantic beat of his heart.
And now, because of his own panicked reactions, he has built the very wall he now stands helplessly before.
“Is that…” Anxin starts, his voice dropping, “is that why you started running away from me?”
“I’m just giving you your distance,” Geonwoo replies, his tone even and impossibly kind. “It’s not like we don’t talk at all.”
And in that moment, Anxin gets a flashback. The words were his own, thrown back at him. He’d once said them in a teasing manner, a light-hearted excuse for slipping away from an overly long hug. Now, they were a solid, cold shield between him and the warmth he had always taken for granted.
When he hops into the van, the place next to Geonwoo is empty. But the smiley Geonwoo who’d usually pat the seat and urge him to sit there—all while Anxin would pretend to ignore him and glue himself to someone else—isn't there. The invitation is absent.
In a small, desperate attempt to fix whatever can be fixed, Anxin takes the seat next to him anyway. He holds his breath, waiting for a comment, a glance, anything. But Geonwoo doesn't even look at him. He simply turns, resting his head against the cool window and closing his eyes, feigning sleep so convincingly it feels like a final door being shut.
The gesture is a quiet, profound rejection, and it stings more than any argument could. Anxin has never seen Geonwoo reject anything of his before.
Sangwon locks eyes with him, his brow furrowed in confusion as he mouths, “What happened?”
Anxin just shakes his head, looking down at his hands. He knows, with a sinking certainty, that there will be a group intervention about this tonight.
He is right.
Later, holed up in Jiahao’s room, Anxin is ranting into the quiet, frustrated and lost. “I just don’t know how to fix it,” he mumbles, leaning his heavy head against Jiahao’s arm.
The door bursts open before Jiahao can offer more comfort. Sangwon, Leo, and the rest of the group pour into the room, their faces a mixture of concern and determination. Anxin sighs, knowing this was inevitable.
“He doesn’t like me anymore,” he confesses the moment they bombard him with questions, the words tasting bitter.
“That’s not true,” Sanghyun immediately refutes, his voice earnest. “Hyung likes you the most.”
“I think he’s been the one making the first step for a very long time, Anxin-ah. You never even reciprocated. It even shows in the fan videos,” Leo adds from his spot leaning against the doorframe, his tone not unkind, but blunt. “Maybe you should try being the one to reach out for once.”
“And don’t feel discouraged if it’s awkward at first,” Sangwon chimes in, offering a small, supportive smile.
“Geonwoo will lean soon,” Jiahao reassures him, his voice a soft rumble as he gently caresses Anxin’s hair.
Finally, all eyes shift to Junseo, the eldest, waiting for his words of wisdom. He just holds his hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not even solving my own problems. Just freestyling in this life.” He speaks, his gaze flickering toward Jiahao before looking away.
Overwhelmed, Anxin lets out a whine and hides his burning face in the safety of Jiahao’s chest.
Later, Geonwoo is lying on his bed, the frantic, anxious shaking of his foot the only betrayal of his calm facade.
"You’re frustrated," Leo remarks from the opposite bed, watching him. "You should let it out."
"Hm?" Geonwoo absentmindedly hums, his eyes glued to his phone. "Maybe I should start dating," he offhandedly comments, scrolling through his feed without any real intent.
He doesn't see how Anxin, who had been quietly putting his things away, immediately freezes. The younger turns to look at him, his wide eyes shocked, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.
Leo barks out a laugh. "Maybe you should."
"Who'd want you?" Anxin says, the words meant to be a light joke, but they come out strained. They fly right over Geonwoo's head, who simply mutters a quiet, defeated, "Right," too accustomed to Anxin not taking his side.
Leo, completely missing the sudden cold breeze in the room, continues cheerfully, "Lots of men and women, alike."
Frustrated, Anxin sways his hands at Leo, hitting his arm with a soft thump, his face creased in a deep frown. The message was clear, stop talking. But for Geonwoo, the conversation already felt over.
That’s when he realizes that unless he does something, Geonwoo will completely slip from his hands.
The next time they are filming, Anxin spots Geonwoo, heart hammering, he walks over and stands directly in front of him, simply looking down until Geonwoo feels the presence and glances up.
“Hm?” he wonders, his expression neutral.
“I want to sit,” Anxin states, his voice firmer than he feels.
“Here?” Geonwoo asks, glancing at the already cramped space. “But there’s no place.”
“I can just squish next to you,” Anxin declares, and before Geonwoo can protest, he does exactly that, wedging himself into the small space until their shoulders and thighs are pressed firmly together. Geonwoo goes rigid with surprise, but doesn’t refute.
Anxin smiles slowly.
It becomes a new, persistent pattern. It goes from asking Geonwoo to share his food, to inviting himself over to watch movies on his laptop, to now, asking to take a sip from his "awful" coffee.
The other members watch the campaign with poorly concealed amusement and support, but Geonwoo himself just looks increasingly skeptical and suspicious. It feels like a puzzle where the pieces don't fit, and he can't pinpoint the motive.
"You don't even like coffee," Geonwoo states, holding his cup just out of reach.
"But I wanna try this one," Anxin insists, his voice a little too bright.
"It's the same awful coffee you've been hating since we debuted, Anxin," Geonwoo says flatly. Still, he relents, handing the cup over and watching with a sort of resigned vindication as Anxin takes a sip and immediately grimaces, shuddering at the bitter taste.
"Told you so," Geonwoo murmurs, taking the cup back.
“You should get something else, something sweeter than this death-coercing drink,” Anxin rasps after coughing dramatically some more.
Geonwoo blinks at him, but his hand comes up almost unconsciously, patting Anxin’s back in a gentle, familiar rhythm.
Small wins, Anxin thinks, clinging to that brief, automatic touch. He’ll take that.
But then Geonwoo sighs, a soft, weary sound. And when the others are distracted, he finally speaks his mind, his voice low and earnest.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.” He starts, his gaze steady and a little sad. “You don’t have to force yourself just because I spoke out about it once. It’s fine, Anxin. You don’t have to like me.”
Anxin doesn’t get to pitch a word in, to explain or protest, before Geonwoo turns and walks away, leaving him standing alone in the room. The brief warmth from the pat on his back evaporates, and Anxin feels the cold, hard truth settle in his stomach. He is right back where he started, only now the distance between them feels wider and more permanent than ever.
That night, Anxin decides to try one last time. To at least have a real conversation, to explain the tangled mess in his chest. Anything is better than this silence.
Long after everyone else is asleep, he pads silently down the hall and slips into Geonwoo’s room. He stands beside the bed, his courage wavering, until Geonwoo stirs, his senses alert even in sleep.
“Anxin?” Geonwoo’s voice is rough with sleep as he squints into the dark at the shadowy figure next to his bed. He pushes himself up on one elbow, the sheets rustling softly.
“Hyung, I—” he starts, but his voice is so small and broken that it cuts through the last of Geonwoo’s sleepiness. He sits up fully, now wide awake.
“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” The concern in his voice is instinctive, automatic.
“Can I stay with you tonight?” Anxin asks, the words rushing out. “I’m scared of the dark,” he adds, blinking quickly in a weak attempt to hide the little lie.
“You’re not scared of the dark, Anxin,” Geonwoo says softly, not as an accusation, but a simple statement of fact.
“I’m not,” Anxin confesses, the pretense crumbling. “But can I still—” He stops himself, mistaking Geonwoo’s waiting silence for indifference. His heart plummets. “I’ll just leave. Sorry.”
He turns, the weight of rejection heavy on his shoulders, and takes a step toward the door. But then a hand shoots out from the darkness, gently catching his wrist. The touch is warm and firm, stopping him in his tracks.
“Come on in,” Geonwoo says, his voice a low murmur in the quiet room. He lifts the edge of the duvet in a silent invitation.
Anxin wastes no time sliding in, getting cozy under the warm duvet, his body a careful, tense line beside Geonwoo's.
The silence is heavy for a long moment, filled only with the sound of their breathing, before Anxin finally finds his voice again in the dark.
"I missed you," he confesses, the words a soft exhale.
"You orchestrated this little stunt just because you missed me?" Geonwoo asks, his tone weary but not unkind. "I only had a solo schedule for one afternoon. You see me all the time."
"It's not about that," Anxin insists, his voice tightening. "You wouldn't allow me close to you because you hate me now."
"Says who?"
"Me!" Anxin whispers fiercely, turning to face him in the dim light. "Because I can see how you run away in the opposite direction the second I get close."
Geonwoo lets out a long, tired sigh. The mattress shifts as he turns his head to look at the ceiling. "Pretty boy," he murmurs, the old endearment slipping out, worn and fond. "I'm incapable of hating you even if I lost my mind."
“You promise?” Anxin asks, his voice small, still unsure if a promise from Geonwoo can hold the weight of all his recent fears.
“Promise. Go to sleep now,” Geonwoo says, his voice softening into something achingly familiar. His hand comes up, gently cupping Anxin’s cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath his eye in a silent caress.
“You promised,” Anxin repeats, as if sealing it. Then, emboldened by the touch and the darkness, he shifts closer, until he can tuck himself against Geonwoo’s side, his face hidden safely in the warm crook of his neck. Geonwoo’s arm comes to rest around him, tentative at first, then settling with a quiet certainty.
The next morning, Anxin wakes up with a startled, sleepy screech, like a cat surprised by sunlight. Beside him, Geonwoo can’t help the soft chuckle that escapes him. He reaches over, ruffling Anxin’s hopelessly tousled hair with a fondness that feels like coming home.
“Morning, pretty boy,” he murmurs, before slipping out of bed to brush his teeth, leaving Anxin to blink at the ceiling, a slow, dawning warmth spreading through his chest.
When Junseo corners Anxin at breakfast, nodding toward a peacefully coffee-sipping Geonwoo, and asks, “So? Did you two finally make up?”
Anxin just beams, a smile so bright it could power the dorm. “Geonwoo hyung likes me again,” he declares, as if that explains everything.
Across the table, Geonwoo doesn’t correct him, maybe he doesn’t even hear him as he simply takes another sip.
The rest of the table falls into a familiar, confused silence, exchanging bewildered glances.
Geonwoo starts paying attention again. He notices the way Anxin looks at him from across the room—a gaze so full of hesitant longing, as if Geonwoo is something beautiful and impossibly far away.
And Geonwoo may respect himself enough to hold a boundary, but he also really, truly likes Anxin. He never wants to see that sad, lost look in his eyes ever again.
So, during a lull in practice, he simply lifts a hand, offering it across the space between them.
Anxin’s eyes go wide, disbelief melting into pure joy in an instant. He doesn't hesitate—he scrambles forward so fast he stumbles over his own feet in his rush to close the distance.
“Careful!” several members shout in unison as he regains his balance.
Anxin just smiles, sheepish and bright, his fingers finally curling securely around Geonwoo’s.
“Be careful,” Geonwoo scolds softly, but there’s no heat in it, only a deep, fond warmth as he gives Anxin’s hand a gentle, reassuring pull, closing the last of the distance between them for good.
The air around them becomes warm again, slowly but surely. It’s a gentle thaw, like the first sun after a long winter. The careful distance dissolves into its easy closeness, shoulders brushing in the van, quiet jokes murmured during meetings, Geonwoo’s hand finding its familiar place on the back of Anxin’s neck, his waist, sometimes even hand.
No one needs to ask if they’ve made up anymore. It’s written in the way Anxin’s eyes crinkle when he smiles at Geonwoo, and in the way Geonwoo’s gaze softens whenever Anxin leans into his space.
This time, Anxin reciprocates fully. He’s no longer afraid of looking like a lovesick fool, he simply doesn’t want to lose Geonwoo again, doesn’t want to see that careful, cold wall go back up. He basks in being the favorite. Geonwoo’s favorite. He loves it, enjoys it more than anything.
And now, the mandatory team meeting—minus Geonwoo, who has a solo schedule—is only full of relentless, fond teasing.
“Look at him, already pouting because his personal heater isn’t here,” Leo smirks, nudging Anxin’s shoulder.
“I am not pouting!” Anxin protests, even as he unconsciously glances toward the door.
“Sure,” Sangwon drawls, sharing a knowing look with Jiahao. “And my hair isn’t blond.”
Junseo just shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “Just be glad the drama is over. The peace and quiet is nice.”
“The peace was boring,” Sanghyun chirps, earning a round of laughter.
“Will you confess though?” Jiahao asks, his voice gentle but curious, when Anxin finally catches his breath after a merciless tickling session from both Sanghyun and Sangwon.
Anxin sighs, flopping back against the couch. He hadn't expected the teasing to take this turn, not in front of everyone.
“It’s a tough one,” he admits, staring at the ceiling. A familiar, quiet anxiety curls in his chest. “I don’t think I can confess.”
“Why not?” Junseo presses. “Geonwoo is very much involved in everything you do.”
“It’s true,” Xinlong adds, nodding. “If your breath hitches, he’s already marching over to make sure you’re all right.”
“So does our leader,” Anxin deflects, crossing his arms. “I’m one of the youngest. It’s his job.”
“Not true,” Sanghyun refutes immediately. “Geonwoo wouldn’t bat an eye if it were me.”
“He worries about you too,” Anxin insists weakly.
“Potato, potato. He worries, but he is obsessed with you,” Sanghyun finishes, waving a dismissive hand.
A knowing silence settles over the room. Junseo leans forward, a faint, insightful smile on his lips. “One would almost say…”
Sangwon finishes the sentence for him, his tone light but deliberate, “…that he is in love with you.”
Anxin springs up from the couch as if burned. He begins pacing the length of the room, running a hand through his hair. “No, no,” he mutters, then louder, “Do not put this in my head! If I get convinced, and he ends up rejecting me, I will fly to Antarctica and never show myself to the rest of Earth again. I mean it!”
The guys don’t take him seriously, laughing good-naturedly at his dramatic misery. Just as Anxin throws his hands up in despair, the door finally opens and Geonwoo slips in.
Anxin’s face immediately lights up, the frantic pacing and the teasing forgotten in an instant. Geonwoo meets his gaze with a warm, private smile that seems to shut out the rest of the room. He doesn't hesitate, heading straight for the empty spot on the couch and, with a gentle tug on Anxin's wrist, pulls him down to sit snugly beside him.
“What are you all talking about?” Geonwoo asks, his voice a soft rumble as he casually settles an arm around Anxin’s shoulders.
Anxin immediately shakes his head, leaning into the touch. “Nothing important,” he says, his earlier panic melting away under the simple, solid weight of Geonwoo’s presence.
“Liar,” Sanghyun, ever the mischievous youngster, chirps. “He wants to move to Antarctica and leave all of us behind.” He huffs, playing up his offense.
Geonwoo doesn’t even blink, his gaze still soft on Anxin’s slightly flushed profile. “That’s fine,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I’ll follow you.”
The room erupts into a chorus of whistles and knowing groans. Anxin feels his ears burn, a helpless smile tugging at his lips as he ducks his head.
“Would you move to Antarctica if it were me?” Sanghyun presses, unable to resist.
Geonwoo finally looks away, his expression shifting to one of mild, amused practicality. “Why would I?” he answers simply. “You can handle yourself.”
“This is what I’m talking about! He does not like me. I am his least favorite member,” Sanghyun declares, launching into a full, dramatic rant. Before anyone can stop him, he kneels beside Anxin and grasps his hands with theatrical solemnity. “Anxin-hyung, I’ll move to Antarctica with you. Forget about him.”
Anxin throws his head back and laughs, the sound bright and clear, all his earlier anxiety dissolving into pure amusement.
Geonwoo watches them, a fond smirk on his lips, before reaching over to give Sanghyun’s offending hand a light, playful swat.