Work Text:
The practice room lights were dimmed low, the kind of quiet that only existed after midnight, when schedules loosened their grip and the world forgot them for a moment. Han Yejoon sat on the floor with his back against the mirror, legs stretched out, expression unreadable as ever; cool, distant, almost bored if anyone else were looking.
Kim Seongjun, blonde hair damp with sweat, flopped down beside him anyway, grinning like he’d just won something. “If we fall asleep here, do you think the manager will carry us out or just step over our bodies?” he asked, nudging Yejoon’s knee with his own. Yejoon didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly, he hummed 'Pretty Boy Swag' in the wrong note on purpose, making Seongjun laugh, like he always did, because somehow Yejoon always got him.
He laughed too loud for the hour, clapping a hand over his own mouth like that might undo it. “You did that on purpose.” Seongjun accused, eyes bright, leaning closer like he was about to uncover a grand secret instead of the obvious truth.
Yejoon shrugged, gaze still fixed on the floor, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Maybe I just don’t know music.” he said flatly, which was insane coming from someone who could pick up harmonies after hearing them once
“Liar.” Seongjun said fondly. He let his head fall back against the mirror beside Yejoon’s, their reflections overlapping. Blonde and black, messy and neat, always like this. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air smelled like sweat and floor cleaner and something familiar enough to feel safe.
Yejoon broke the silence by pulling a crumpled candy wrapper out of his pocket and smoothing it carefully on his knee. “You stepped on this earlier,” he said. “I was wondering where it went.”
Seongjun blinked. “You… kept it?”
“It’s yours.” Yejoon replied, entirely serious, and handed it back like it mattered.
Something in Seongjun’s chest did that annoying, quiet flip. He took the wrapper anyway, fingers brushing Yejoon’s for half a second too long. “You’re really weird,” he said, softer now.
Yejoon nodded. “You’re loud.”
“Wow. Devastating.” Seongjun grinned, but he didn’t move away. Outside the room, a distant door slammed. Someone else leaving, time continuing as usual. Inside, neither of them reached for their phones. Neither of them mentioned it.
They just stayed there, shoulders touching, pretending the clock wasn’t ticking yet.
Seongjun was the first to glance at the clock anyway. He tried to be subtle about it (failed miserably) and Yejoon noticed, of course. He always did.
“You have five minutes.” Yejoon said, like he was stating the weather.
“Five minutes of what?” Seongjun asked, instantly defensive. “I was just- checking if time was still… time.”
Yejoon turned his head then, finally looking at him. His eyes were calm, dark, reflecting the low lights like still water. “Five minutes before you start pacing,” he added. A beat. “Four, now.”
Seongjun scoffed, but he smiled. “Wow. You know me so well. Creepy.”
“You’re loud when you’re nervous,” Yejoon said. “Your jokes get worse.”
“Hey,” Seongjun protested. “My jokes are always bad. That’s consistency.”
Yejoon hummed again, this time the correct note, and leaned his head back against the mirror. After a second, Seongjun did the same, their temples almost touching. Almost. That word again, hanging between them like everything else they never named.
“Jun.” Seongjun said quietly, the teasing gone for once.
Yejoon answered with a soft “Mm?” like he already knew what was coming.
Seongjun swallowed. The clock ticked. Somewhere down the hall, someone laughed. Five minutes felt cruelly short. He didn’t say the thing, not yet. Instead, he bumped his shoulder gently into Yejoon’s.
“Promise me,” he said, trying to sound light, “that when we’re old and washed up, you’ll still make weird noises just to annoy me.”
Yejoon’s lips curved. Small, but real. “I'll think about it. Only for you,” he said.
And somehow, that felt dangerously close to everything.
[...]
They left together, eventually. Lights off, door locked, footsteps echoing down the empty hallway. Outside, the night air was cool enough to wake Seongjun up a little, enough to make him joke again, enough to make everything feel normal.
At the corner, they slowed.
“Text me when you get home.” Seongjun said automatically.
Yejoon nodded. “You too.” Then, after a half-second pause, he added, “Don’t trip. You’re bad at looking where you’re going.”
“That happened once.”
“Twice.”
“Okay, wow. Betrayal.” Seongjun laughed, waved dramatically, and watched Yejoon walk off. Hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, disappearing into the dark like he always did, quiet and steady and unfairly magnetic.
Only when Yejoon was gone did the silence hit.
The ride home was when it got bad.
Seongjun slumped into the back seat, forehead against the cool window, replaying everything like his brain had nothing better to do. The humming. The candy wrapper. The way Yejoon had said only for you like it was the most obvious thing in the world. His phone buzzed: 'Home.' and Seongjun stared at the screen longer than necessary, smiling like an idiot.
“Oh,” he muttered to himself, realization sinking in slow and heavy. “I’m… I’m washed.”
Completely. Hopelessly. Down horrendous.
He typed back Got home safe with three unnecessary emojis, then locked his phone and groaned, dropping his head back. Because this wasn’t a crush anymore. This was the quiet kind of affection that sneaks up on you, settles in your chest, and makes ordinary moments feel dangerous.
Meanwhile, a few blocks away, Yejoon walked home humming. Soft, off-key on purpose, already waiting for the next time Seongjun would laugh at it.