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The release party was insane in the best way possible. Though there were a few inevitable bumps along the way, the energy was through the roof, and Keonho had the best time ever. He seriously missed performing on stage, singing his heart out, and hearing cheers from their fans. Everyone was having a great time.
But even though winter had passed and it was already spring, the cold hadn’t fully disappeared. Keonho could tell because he found himself sneezing and coughing a few times throughout the night, much like his boyfriend. Seonghyeon, carefree and confident as always, barely missed a line and was even hyping up the crowd.
And that’s why once the release party ended, their management team immediately noticed that out of everyone, Seonghyeon’s voice, particularly, wasn’t in good condition. They had gotten a check-up straight away, but the medical experts had dismissed all concerns of it being anything serious or worrying.
Seonghyeon had just strained his voice because he pushed himself while having a mild cold. Still, knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.
Now that the adrenaline had slowly died down, with all the members already showered and in bed after a fun but exhausting night, Keonho was left to his own thoughts. Which was dangerous. He had just finished taking a shower and was in the process of drying his hair.
All his body wanted was rest. He was tired, and even the littlest bit of sleep he could get was vital if he wanted to survive tomorrow’s schedules; however, that led him to his next problem. Keonho had been having trouble sleeping. It wasn’t shocking news; his members and even fans knew that Keonho was a light sleeper, but it was worse on nights when all his brain wanted to do was think, think, think instead of letting him get some sleep.
There was one thing that helped. Seonghyeon. He wasn’t sure why, but sleeping with Seonghyeon more often than not left Keonho feeling refreshed instead of dead on the inside. Maybe it was because he found comfort being safe, wrapped in his boyfriend’s arms. Either way, he needed Seonghyeon to sleep.
But Seonghyeon was sick and in pain, even though he refused to admit it. It made Keonho’s heart ache seeing Seonghyeon frown in pain, keeping a hand over his throat on the ride back home, except for when he needed to cough into his elbow. Seonghyeon was the one who always took care of him, so seeing him slightly weak threw Keonho off balance.
He dropped the towel into the laundry basket before one of the others started knocking on the bathroom door and questioned him for taking so long. Keonho turned into his shared room with Martin and Seonghyeon. The main light was switched off, but the smaller light sources in the room were enough for Keonho to make out Martin, who was sitting on his bed with his earphones in and laptop open. Workaholic. Keonho loved to tease him about it, even though he was actually grateful for their leader.
Keonho turned to the other side of the room and found Seonghyeon in a similar position, in bed, scrolling away on his phone. He was distracted enough that he didn’t notice Keonho had returned from his shower. Then Seonghyeon coughed. It was a dry cough that he muffled into his elbow, but to Keonho, it sounded painful.
It might have been the fading adrenaline from the night, or maybe his uncontrollable emotions, but the sight made Keonho’s eyes sting. Fuck this. He hesitated just for a second, glancing over at Martin once more, before crossing the room in a few quick strides.
Then, without warning, he slid under the covers of Seonghyeon’s bed.
Seonghyeon startled when he noticed his presence. “Keonho?” His voice came out rougher than usual, low and slightly hoarse. “What are you—”
Keonho didn’t give him the chance to finish his sentence, fully covering himself with the sheets, planting his face on Seonghyeon’s chest.
His boyfriend’s arms came up to wrap around him on instinct, sliding to gently grip his waist and pull him closer before Seonghyeon realised. “Baby, wait, I’m sick, remember? You’ll catch it if you sleep here.”
Right. Like Keonho cared about that when he was already on the way to being sick anyway. He didn’t respond, pressing his face firmly against the shirt covering Seonghyeon’s chest, so his boyfriend couldn’t see the mixture of emotions on Keonho’s face. There was no doubt that Seonghyeon would tease Keonho like there was no tomorrow if he found out the reason why Keonho was acting this way.
“You’re clingy today,” Seonghyeon observed. He wasn’t teasing Keonho exactly, at least not yet; it was more of a fond, amused tone laced into his voice. “Did the release party actually make you emotional or something?” he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting despite the rasp in his voice.
There was still no response. Keonho remained tucked in close, hands gripping Seonghyeon’s shirt, face hidden.
Seonghyeon shifted a little, one hand coming up to gently thread through Keonho’s slightly-damp strands of hair, his brow furrowing as he glanced towards Martin’s direction before lowering his voice. “You should go back to your bed before you fall asleep here.”
Keonho shook his head, the movement only noticeable because his hair softly tickled Seonghyeon’s chin.
“Keonho,” he tried again, softer this time, his hand pressing a little more firmly against his back like he was trying to coax him up.
But Keonho made no effort to move away. If anything, he pressed closer.
Seonghyeon blinked, a faint crease forming between his brows. “You’re really not moving, huh?” He muttered, a soft huff of amusement slipping past his lips as he moved to adjust the sheets around them. “What, you missed me that much in the fifteen minutes you were in the shower?”
Still nothing. Only silence answered him. Seonghyeon’s hand slowed from where it had been resting at Keonho’s waist, rubbing comforting circles over the fabric of his clothes.
He tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Keonho’s face, but it was completely hidden, pressed firmly into his chest, the angle making it impossible to see anything.
“Keonho?” he called again, his voice much quieter, barely above a whisper.
Seonghyeon frowned at the continuous lack of response from his boyfriend. He was about to say something else, maybe another lighthearted jab to get a rise out of him, when his throat suddenly tightened. The irritation caught unexpectedly, sharp and insistent.
Seonghyeon turned his head away from Keonho, bring on elbow up to muffle the rough, dry cough that shook through his chest. Keonho felt it. He felt the way Seonghyeon’s chest jolted under his cheek. Keonho’s fingers tightened, bunched deep into the fabric of Seonghyeon’s shirt.
“Did something happen?” Seonghyeon murmured once the fit passed, his voice sounding even more raspy now that the teasing edge in his voice had almost completely vanished. “You’ve been quiet since you came in.”
It wasn’t unlike Keonho to come to Seonghyeon for affection, but to do it shamelessly in front of Martin and not respond when talked to was off. Keonho usually had something to say back, whether it was a teasing remark, a whine, or even his signature pout. Seonghyeon would have normally received a soft, harmless smack for using a pet name to address Keonho in front of others, but there was nothing.
“Baby,” Seonghyeon tried again, a little more insistent. “Talk to me.”
Then he heard the small, uneven breath against his chest. It was so faint he almost thought he had imagined it, but then it happened again, just as unsteady as the first time it reached Seonghyeon’s ears. Alarm bells went off immediately in his mind.
“Keonho?”
He moved more urgently this time, one hand coming up to cup the back of Keonho’s head, trying to tilt it back just enough to see him. Still, Keonho resisted, pressing in closer instead, his fingers curling tighter into the fabric of Seonghyeon’s shirt.
And then Seonghyeon felt it. Warmth. A sudden, hot dampness seeped through the thin cotton right where Keonho’s face was pressed. Seonghyeon’s heart lurched, lodging itself somewhere uncomfortably high in his throat.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath, the word rough as he tried again to move Keonho, the teasing edge vanishing instantly. “Hey, look at me—”
Keonho shook his head against him, small and stubborn, and that was when it clicked fully into place. The initial confusion instantly gave way to concern.
“...Are you crying?” The question came out quieter than intended, almost unsure, because Keonho rarely cried in front of him.
Seonghyeon’s gut twisted, his hand moving more firmly now, gently but insistently guiding Keonho’s head back despite the resistance.
“Hey, no, no—” he murmured. “Baby, what happened?”
Keonho finally let himself be moved, only a little, enough for Seonghyeon to see his face, and the sight made his stomach drop to the floor.
The younger one’s eyes were glossy and wet, his pretty lashes clumped, his cheeks flushed a light shade of pink from both the shower and the quiet crying he’d been trying to hide, his lips pressed together in a small, trembling pout like he was holding everything in by sheer force.
Seonghyeon stared at him, genuinely thrown off guard.
“Keonho,” he said again, softer. “Why are you crying?”
Keonho shook his head, gaze dropping back to Seonghyeon’s shirt, his fingers still clutching at the fabric like he was afraid to let go.
“Did someone say something?” Seonghyeon continued, his mind racing, trying to find a reason that made sense. “Did you see something online, or did something happen after the release party?”
All he got in response was another small shake of the head.
“Then what is it?” Seonghyeon pressed, his thumb brushing carefully under Keonho’s eye to catch a tear before it fell. “Baby, you’re scaring me.”
Those words finally got a proper reaction out of Keonho, his lips parting as his expression crumpled. For a moment, Seonghyeon thought his boyfriend might just bury his face back into Seonghyeon’s chest and hide there until whatever was bothering him passed.
But Seonghyeon waited. His hand stayed where it was, steady against Keonho’s cheek, his gaze fixed on him with worry evident in his features as he remained on the lookout for any shifts in Keonho’s expression that would help him understand the situation better.
“You can tell me anything, Keonho,” Seonghyeon added softly. He was sure his boyfriend already knew that, but it didn’t hurt to remind him again.
There was a long pause, and Seonghyeon would’ve thought Keonho had fallen asleep if it weren’t for the way he could feel the younger boy’s fingers loosen then curl again into the material of his shirt.
Then, in a voice so small, so quiet, that he barely heard, he said: “...You’re sick.”
“What?” Seonghyeon blinked, staring at Keonho while his brain had stalled trying to process the answer. Because out of everything he had been preparing himself to hear—something someone said, something Keonho saw, something that had gone wrong and he hadn’t noticed—this hadn’t even crossed his mind.
Keonho’s eyes flickered up briefly, glassy and vulnerable, then his gaze dropped almost immediately after saying it, like he already regretted admitting it out loud.
“You were coughing,” he mumbled, his voice small and wobbling despite his attempt to keep it steady. “And your voice sounded bad… I don’t know, it sounded like it hurt…” Each word came out slower than the last, like Keonho was reluctant to admit them even now.
Seonghyeon tilted his head, his brows pulling together as he stared at Keonho, processing the words. “That’s why you’re crying?” he asked, the confusion slipping out before he could stop it.
Keonho’s face scrunched up, embarrassment flickering across his face so clearly it almost made Seonghyeon wince, and he looked away again, his grip loosening as if he might pull back entirely.
Seonghyeon reacted on instinct, his arm tightening around him, pulling him back in before he could retreat. “Hey, no,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Keonho didn’t fight back, though his face remained turned away, his lashes still damp. Seonghyeon brought his hand up to gently wipe up the remnants of tears that had left wet tracks on his flushed skin.
“It sounded painful,” Keonho mumbled. “I didn’t like it.”
The tension that had coiled up in Seonghyeon’s chest finally eased a little, the cold knot of fear untangling as the worry was replaced by something warmer.
“Baby,” Seonghyeon murmured. “I’m okay. It’s just my throat. I overdid it a little, but it happens. That’s all.”
Keonho shook his head weakly. “I know that, but still, it doesn’t make it any better,” he whispered.
Seonghyeon exhaled softly, his hand moving to cradle the back of Keonho’s head again, guiding him closer until his forehead rested lightly against his shoulder. “It only hurts a little bit,” he reassured Keonho. “I promise it’s not as bad as you think.”
Keonho didn’t have an answer to that. While it made sense in his brain—Seonghyeon was going to be fine in a few days—his heart still felt heavy, so he just stayed there, focusing on the warmth of Seonghyeon’s skin, the distant hum of Martin’s laptop and the soft, steady rhythm of Seonghyeon’s breathing.
After a few minutes, he slowly uncurled his white-knuckled grip on Seonghyeon’s shirt to let his palms rest flat against his chest. The initial wave of tears had passed, leaving Keonho in a hazy state of exhaustion where his filter was practically gone.
Keonho tilted his head up just enough to look at Seonghyeon, his eyes still a little glassy and his nose tipped with a faint pink. He found Seonghyeon already watching him, his gaze steady and waiting. Words felt useless now; Keonho just needed something—anything—to drown out the scratchy, painful sound of that cough.
“Can I have a kiss?” Keonho asked, voice small.
Seonghyeon blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“A kiss,” Keonho repeated, quieter this time, almost as if he was half-expecting to be refused.
Seonghyeon let out a soft huff of disbelief, shaking his head. “Keonho,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite the way his tone automatically slipped into fond reproach. “I’m sick.”
“I don’t care,” Keonho replied, the answer coming out without hesitation, and his lips jutted out in that irresistible pout.
Seonghyeon looked at him for a second longer, waiting for Keonho to take it back, to get shy or embarrassed or realise what he was asking for and retreat into himself again. But Keonho didn’t, he stayed there with lips slightly puckered, eyes soft and a little tired but steady on his.
“You should care, idiot,” Seonghyeon muttered, but the insult fell short with the way his hand rested at the back of Keonho’s head.
He sighed, a soft, raspy sound that fanned over Keonho’s cheeks. Despite his better judgment, he couldn’t say no to that look, especially not when Keonho was already so close and had that stupidly adorable pout on his face—it more often than not made Seonghyeon’s resolve crumble.
“Don’t come crying to me when you’re the one sick tomorrow,” he murmured, though the words came out far too fond to sound like a complaint.
He didn’t give Keonho time to argue. Seonghyeon leaned down, his movements a little clumsy from exhaustion. He finally pressed his lips against Keonho’s, smothering his pout with slow tenderness. Keonho tasted of mint and the faint, lingering salt of his tears, a bittersweet combination that Seonghyeon drank in until it finally melted into that mellow, natural sweetness he knew so well.
The kiss dragged out long enough to anchor Keonho’s racing thoughts and replace them with the steady warmth of Seonghyeon’s breath. Seonghyeon’s hand moved from where it had been resting at the back of Keonho’s head, fingers sliding deeper into his hair, his thumb brushing faintly at the base of his neck in slow, absent strokes that matched the unhurried pace of the kiss.
Keonho relaxed into it, the tension that had been sitting in his shoulders finally giving way. Seonghyeon adjusted without thinking, tilting his head just enough to deepen the kiss. It was no longer quite as brief as he had intended, his lips chasing Keonho’s, betraying everything he had said earlier.
When Keonho leaned in further, closing what little space remained between them, Seonghyeon’s grip firmed at his waist, pulling him closer in response, until there was no gap left between them at all, the warmth of his body solid and reassuring under Keonho’s hands.
Seonghyeon eventually pulled back, reluctant to end it properly, but knowing they both needed adequate rest to survive tomorrow. Keonho stayed close, eyes still half-lidded, his forehead almost resting against Seonghyeon’s while he focused on catching his breath.
“Better?” Seonghyeon asked.
Keonho nodded, the movement slow and heavy. A pleasant, heavy fog had finally replaced the frantic, spiralling thoughts that usually kept him awake. He looked like he was halfway to falling asleep right there, his eyes barely staying open as he tracked the soft curve of Seonghyeon’s mouth.
“Good,” Seonghyeon murmured. He reached up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Keonho’s ear before letting his hand rest against the side of his neck. “Now, no more crying, and no more thinking. All you need to do is go to sleep, okay?”
Keonho let out a tiny, sleepy puff of a laugh, shifting to settle his head back down onto Seonghyeon’s chest, right above his heartbeat. He didn’t even have the energy to retort; Keonho was just relieved to find it wasn’t interrupted by another hitch or a cough.
Seonghyeon pulled the duvet up higher, tucking it securely around Keonho’s shoulders to trap the warmth. He felt the younger boy’s breathing even out almost instantly, his body becoming a dead weight against him. He glanced across the room to see that Martin had gone to sleep too, though he hadn’t noticed the exact moment when.
A few minutes into staring at his boyfriend’s face, Seonghyeon felt a familiar tickle in his throat again, but he suppressed it with a swallow, refusing to wake the boy who finally looked at peace. Seonghyeon also closed his eyes, his chin resting atop Keonho’s head, ignoring the slight ache in his throat, which didn’t matter as much as the comforting weight of Keonho in his arms.
The next morning, the manager’s wake-up call was met with two very different, yet equally congested, groans. Keonho woke up with a head that felt like it was stuffed with cotton and a blocked nose—proving that his immune system was no match for his stubborn heart. Seonghyeon, despite feeling like he’d swallowed a handful of glass, managed a smug “told you so.”
Martin, who was, surprisingly, already fully dressed, shook his head at them. “I’d tell you both to get a room, but unfortunately, we share one. Try to keep the synchronised coughing and sneezing to a minimum, alright?”
Keonho considered flipping him off, but instead just sniffled and buried his face back into Seonghyeon’s shoulder, deciding that being sick together was much better than being worried alone. Catching a cold was a small price to pay for the best night’s sleep he’d had in months.