Archive of Our Own

There were no schedules to rush to, no cameras following them around, no staff messages flooding their phones every ten minutes. For once, AHOF's dorm had settled into a peaceful quiet. 

Steven and Chih En had gone to the gym, Shuaibo was asleep in his room, Juwon and JL went out to get some drinks, and somewhere down the hall Daisuke had left music playing softly enough to blend into the lazy hum of the air conditioner.

Sunlight spilled through the living room windows, painting warm rectangles across the floor. Empty snack wrappers littered the coffee table, a testament to the fact that neither Han nor Woongki had bothered cleaning up after demolishing two bags of chips and half a tub of ice cream.

Movie marathons on days off had become something of an unspoken tradition between them. Or rather, Han watched movies while Woongki provided live commentary, complained about every questionable decision made by the characters, and somehow managed to ask thirty unrelated questions throughout the duration of a single film.

Which was exactly why Han should've known peace wouldn't last.

The movie had barely reached what Woongki insisted was "the best part" when Han, having grown tired of listening to him spoil every upcoming scene, casually skipped ahead.

And all hell broke loose.

"Give it back!"

"No way!" Han burst out laughing, holding the remote above his head. "You skipped through half the movie yourself!"

"That was different!" 

"How?"

"Because I know which parts are important!" Woongki let out an indignant whine and practically launched himself across the couch. 

Half his body was sprawled over the cushions while the other half hung off the edge, stretching desperately toward the remote clutched triumphantly in Han's hand.

"Han, I'm serious!" he complained, reaching with both hands now. "You skipped my scene!"

"Your scene?" Han snorted.

"Yes, my scene! Give it back!" Han held the remote even higher, thoroughly enjoying the scandalized look on Woongki's face.

"You act like you're starring in the movie."

"I practically am!" Woongki huffed. "Now stop being annoying and hand it over!"

Instead, Han simply grinned wider.

The first time it happened, he thought he'd imagined it. Mostly because it made absolutely no sense.

Woongki narrowed his eyes and Han grinned a coy smile, starring the older man down and daring him with his eyes to make another move. 

Neither of them said a word.

And then, with all the dignity of an offended cat, Woongki threw himself at him again.

"You're evil!" he complained, his voice dissolving into laughter as he lunged across the couch.

"Woongki, don't—"

Too late. Both of them collapsed sideways into the cushions in a mess of limbs and blankets. Han barely managed to keep the remote out of reach, stretching his arm above his head while Woongki stubbornly clung to his wrist with both hands.

"Give it!" Woongki whined.

"No way!" 

"Han! C'mon!"

"No, you have to work harder for it!"

"You're literally the worst!"

"That's not true."

"It is!" There was a crack in Woongki's voice and Han laughed helplessly.

If someone had walked into the room at that moment and witnessed the scene, they could've sworn they were watching two prepubescent siblings throwing a fit, not two men in their early twenties.

"Now I am the villain? You skipped twenty minutes earlier!"

"Because those parts were boring!"

"And this part isn't?"

"No, this is my favorite!"

Han blinked. "Your favorite? Since when?"

"Since five minutes ago! Stop asking questions and–"

Woongki reached up again, almost slipping off the couch entirely. Han instinctively wrapped an arm around his waist to stop him from falling, and Woongki barely seemed to notice, too busy trying to pry the remote from his hand.

He was practically sprawled over Han now, one knee wedged between the couch cushions, one hand wrapped around Han's wrist, his hair falling into his eyes from all the wrestling.

"Hyung, just–"

Silence.

The words died in his throat.

Han froze. He watched helplessly as Woongki clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes widening in horror. 

The movie continued playing obliviously in the background. Some dramatic music swelled from the TV, hilariously out of place compared to the complete stillness that had descended between them.

For a second, neither of them moved. Then Han blinked.

"...What?"

In all honesty, Woongki looked like he was on the verge of tears. He shook his head a few times, as if trying to reboot his brain, then opened and closed his mouth helplessly, but not a single coherent word emerged. Han felt his grip on his wrist loosen.

"I–"

"You what?"

"I didn't say anything."

Han stared. "You definitely said something."

"I definitely did not."

A sarcastic scoff escaped Han's lips before he could be able to stop it. "No?" 

"No."

"You literally just—"

"I didn't!" Woongki pressed down. He wouldn't meet the younger's eyes and his face was as red as a tomato. He let go of Han's wrist completely and now was just standing awkwardly over him, looking utterly crestfallen. 

Han felt his gaze soften at the sight. 

"Woongki."

The older remained silent. He was chewing on his lower lip and was sporting a frown on his face. Han was not used to this look on Woongki. He hated it. 

"Woongki." He tried again.

Still silence stretched on.

"You called me hyung."

Woongki sat upright so fast he nearly headbutted Han.

"No."

Han burst out laughing. "What do you mean no?"

Woongki shook his head. He was now scrambling to get up but Han was now the one to catch his wrist, rooting him in spot. 

"You did."

"No, I didn't. You’re hearing things–"

"Bullshit. You absolutely did!"

Han stared. Woongki stared back. And then, with the slow realization of someone who knew he had already lost, Woongki let out a strangled noise and buried his face into the nearest pillow.

Han blinked. A few times. "You did call me hyung." He said it with such conviction, as if it were the one thing he was most certain of in the world.

A muffled scream emerged from the pillow. Han burst out laughing.

"Hey, Woongki."

Another scream.

"Stupid, you're gonna suffocate yourself like that!"

The pillow shook violently.

"Cha Woongki!"

The pillow emitted a noise that sounded suspiciously like someone begging for death. Han couldn't stop laughing, holding his stomach. Woongki looked genuinely devastated, like he'd accidentally leaked state secrets instead of using the wrong honorific.

"Hello, earth to Woongki!" Still laughing, Han poked his side."Look at me."

"No." Came his voice muffled by the pillow still pressed hard to his face. 

"Come on."

"I don't want to."

"And why's that?"

"Because I'm moving."

Han snorted. "Moving where?"

"Australia.” Then finally, he peeked out from the pillow, his hair all over the place and his eyes watery. "Another planet, if possible."

Han laughed harder. "You can't immigrate because you accidentally called me hyung."

"Watch me."

Han exhaled sharply, calming down from his previous fit of laughter. "I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Woongki."

"I'm deleting my number and changing my identity."

Han clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You're so dramatic."

"I'm protecting my dignity."

"What dignity?"

Woongki's brain couldn't provide no come back line in that moment, his head still dizzy from all the embarrassment. Instead he crossed his arms over his chest and huffed indignantly. 

Han looked at him some more. "Hey, seriously."

Woongki groaned, head ducked nearly brushing his shoulder. "What?"

"Look at me." He pleaded, reaching for his hands that were tucked by his sides. 

"No."

"Why?"

"Because it's weird."

Han tilted his head. "What's weird?"

Woongki groaned louder. "You know."

"No, I don't. Enlighten me."

Woongki raised his head just enough to glare at him. "Because you're younger!"

It was true, Woongki was the older one between the two of them. And yet, most of the time, Han seemed to forget that fact. With his lively, spirited nature, Woongki felt even more like the maknae than Daisuke sometimes. 

Han grinned. He was definitely enjoying tormenting the older. "By what… seventeen months?"

"Still younger!"

"You say that like I'm twelve."

"You know what I mean!" He snapped in frustration, finally meeting the younger man's gaze. 

Woongki's ears began turning red. Han blinked. And then he stopped laughing. "...Wait."

The pillow came back up immediately. This time, Woongki managed to get off of Han completely, and immediately went to one corner of the sofa, instinctively curling into himself, shame burning hot in his chest.

"Leave me alone."

"Wait, Woongki. "

The older whined, fanning his hot cheeks with both hands now. Han's smile slowly faded. He was not offended, not in the slightest. And to be honest with himself, he did not think it was weird. But something about the sheer level of embarrassment radiating from the lump currently pretending to be a statue had sparked his curiosity. Maybe something else.

"Hold on."

"Han, I swear, if you're about to make fun of me–"

"I'm not."

Woongki stole a glance at him, his heart feeling unsure. "You are." 

"I swear I'm not."

"You have that smile though…"

"What smile?"

"The evil smile."

Han snorted. "I don't have an evil smile."

"You do."

"I don't."

"Han. Please." There was something unusually small in Woongki's voice. He sounded shy. Almost like a kid. Like someone younger. 

Han found himself softening immediately.

"I'm not making fun of you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"You know," Han said after a moment, his voice gentler than before, "I don't mind."

Woongki looked attentively at the younger, as if expecting a trap."...Really?"

"Yeah."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're not weirded out?"

Han shook his head right away. 

"Not even a little?"

He couldn't help smiling. "No, not even a little bit. I mean, I've heard you saying things more atrocious than this, so I think you're fine."

Woongki blinked. Then blinked some more."...Really?"

The disbelief in his voice made Han laugh softly. "Really."

And Han meant it. He wasn't weirded out. If anything, he was strangely content with it. He didn't know if there was some weird psychology behind it—being called hyung by someone older than him—but something about it made him feel ridiculously pleased.

Whatever it was, he couldn't deny that he liked it. Liked hearing “hyung” tumble out of Woongki's mouth, caught off guard by the little rush it sent through him. He liked the strange possessiveness it stirred, the urge to protect him and tell him, “That's alright. Hyung is here now.”

God, maybe there really was something wrong with his brain.

Maybe that should've felt strange. Maybe Han should've laughed it off or told him to stop. Instead, all he could think was–

Cute.

So fucking cute.

The way Woongki had practically short-circuited the second he realized what he'd said. The way his ears had gone bright red. The way he'd attempted to bury himself alive in a pillow and flee the country out of embarrassment.

It was endearing. 

Woongki relaxed little by little, his shoulders finally dropping. "Okay…" he mumbled. "Okay." Then his eyes narrowed, suspicious. "What's that look on your face?"

Han raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"You have that smile."

"What kind of smile do I have now?" Han groaned exasperated.

"The one right now!"

Han felt his grin widen involuntarily. Woongki pointed at him immediately. "See! That's the smile!"

Han burst out laughing. "What? I can't even smile now?"

"No, you're being evil!"

"How am I evil?"

"That's the evil smile of an evil man who found out something embarrassing about me and he's saving it for later!" He whined, lips forming an exaggerated pout. "You're going to tease the hell out of me!"

Han couldn't even deny it. Maybe he was.

Not because he wanted to mess with Woongki (well, maybe a little), but mostly because seeing him all flustered like this made something warm settle in Han's chest.

He'd always thought Woongki was cute. Everyone did. Cute when he laughed so hard he fell into people, cute when he whined over food, cute when he got dramatic over the smallest inconveniences. When he talked too much, when he pouted, when he smiled.

But this…This was different.

Woongki wasn't putting on a show right now. He wasn't being loud or playful or trying to make anyone laugh. He was embarrassed, utterly so if his crimson cheeks and pink-tipped ears were anything to go by. And somehow, seeing him hide behind a pillow while desperately trying not to combust was so endearing that Han thought he might lose his mind.

"No, seriously," Han said, fake coughing into his fist, to mask his own nerves. "I think it's cute."

Woongki froze. "Cute?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Very cute."

"Ok, actually stop now–"

"Adorable, even.."

"Han!" Woongki immediately buried himself back into the pillow with a horrified noise.

Han laughed so hard his stomach hurt. "No, listen– You don't see the vision–"

"Shut up!"

"Woongki!"

"No!"

"You're so cute!" Said the younger, trying to pry the pillow away from his face. 

"I hate you!"

"No, you don't."

"At this moment, I do!"

Han was still laughing when a thought suddenly entered his head. And, because he had absolutely no self-preservation, he voiced it.

"Should I start calling you dongsaeng?"

Woongki practically launched the pillow at his face, Han nearly dropped the remote trying to shield himself.

"Okay, okay! Got it! Dongsaeng's not allowed!" Han dissolved into helpless laughter again.

And despite the fact that his entire face had gone red, despite the way he kept threatening to disappear forever, Woongki was laughing too now. The sound came muffled at first, hidden behind the pillow, before it spilled out fully, bright and breathless and contagious.

Han found himself staring for a second. Because there it was again.

That smile.

The one that always made Woongki's eyes disappear into little crescents. The one that made him throw his head back when he laughed. The one that somehow made the entire room feel lighter.

And Han–

Han was in trouble.

Because he really, genuinely thought Cha Woongki was cute. Not in the way everyone thought Woongki was cute. Not in the way people called puppies cute.

Not in the way friends teased each other.

This was the kind of cute that made Han want to laugh with him forever. The kind that made his chest feel oddly full whenever Woongki looked at him and smiled like he was the funniest person in the world.

Which was a problem.

Because he was pretty sure people weren't supposed to think about their friends like that.

And he definitely wasn't supposed to find himself secretly hoping, just a little, that Woongki would accidentally call him "hyung" again.

~

One week later, Han came to the horrifying realization that he had a problem. And it's not like he could explain it to another person without sounding completely insane.

In the seven days since that disastrous movie night, Cha Woongki had not called him "hyung" a single time.

Not once.

Han missed it. Which was ridiculous. He knew that. After all, it had been one accidental slip. One tiny moment that had lasted all of two seconds before Woongki nearly buried himself alive out of embarrassment.

There was absolutely no reason for Han to keep thinking about it.

And yet he did. More often than he cared to admit.

It happened at the strangest times, too. While brushing his teeth, while waiting for the cup of ramen in the microwave. In the middle of practice. Sometimes he'd just be scrolling through his phone, minding his own business, and suddenly remember the horrified look on Woongki's face after the word had escaped him.

And then he'd remember the sound itself.

Hyung.

Soft.

Slipping out so naturally.

As if that title really did belong to him. 

And before he knew it, he'd be smiling to himself like an idiot. Which was embarrassing, honestly. Because what kind of person spent one entire week thinking about one accidental honorific?

Apparently, Han.

Han, who had found himself paying entirely too much attention to the way Woongki addressed him now. Han, who had become painfully aware that every "Han-ah" or “Hani” sounded suspiciously absent of something. Han, who had started noticing that Woongki almost looked like he was avoiding certain words altogether.

And Han hated that he noticed. Because he shouldn't. But once the thought had planted itself in his head, it refused to leave.

Every time Woongki called out his name from across the room–

"Hani!"

Every time he whined–

"Hani, look at this!"

Every time he flopped onto the couch beside him and shoved his phone into his face–

"Isn't this cute, Hani?"

–there was this tiny, stupid, traitorous part of Han that would pause for half a second. And then quietly, pathetically, disappointingly think, Oh. It was not because "Han" sounded bad. He liked hearing Woongki say his name.

Actually, maybe he liked it a little too much.

But…

There had been something about that other word. Something that made his chest feel oddly warm. Something that had sounded comfortable and affectionate, in a way Han couldn't quite explain.

It wasn't the title itself. He knew that. The younger members called him "hyung" all the time. He'd heard it thousands of times. But hearing Woongki say it… hearing it in that soft, absentminded voice while he was laughing and sprawled all over him, that had done something weird to Han. Something strange enough that he didn't particularly want to examine too closely. Because every time he thought about it for too long, his mind would inevitably wander to Woongki himself.

To the way he'd hidden behind the pillow.

To the way his ears had turned bright red.

To the tiny smile he'd been trying so desperately to suppress while Han teased him.

To the fact that he'd admitted he said weird things when he was comfortable with someone. 

When someone took care of him.

For some reason, that last part stuck with Han more than anything else. Because the truth was, Han liked taking care of Woongki and making him feel secure, even though he was older than him. 

Han liked reminding him to eat. He liked listening to his endless stories, he liked watching him ramble excitedly over things nobody else understood.

He liked their movie nights. He liked the way Woongki leaned against him without thinking.

He liked hearing him laugh.

He especially liked being the reason Woongki laughed.

He liked seeing that stupid smile.

He liked–

Han stopped himself immediately.

No.

Nope.

Absolutely not. He wasn't thinking about that. There was no need to think about that.

Everything was fine.

Perfectly fine.

Except for the fact that he caught himself wondering, every now and then, just occasionally and purely out of curiosity, of course, whether Woongki would ever accidentally call him "hyung" again.

And if Han happened to smile every time the thought crossed his mind, well… That was between him and God.

Because he was doomed.

Completely and utterly doomed.

~

On the eighth evening after the incident, Woongki came over again.

Another movie. Another ridiculous argument.

At this point, Han was beginning to suspect they spent more time bickering than actually watching anything. Not that he minded. In fact, he'd come to look forward to evenings like these more than he liked to admit.

The dorm was quiet, most of the others having retreated to their rooms, and the only sounds filling the living room were the movie playing softly in the background and Woongki's endless commentary. Or, rather, his endless complaints.

"Trent is so freaking stupid."

Han snorted. "You've said that about everyone in this movie."

"Because they're all stupid."

"They're literally trying to survive."

"And they're bad at it."

"You'd die first."

"No, I'd be the final girl." He declared smugly while flipping his imaginary long hair. 

"You cried over a spider last week."

"That's because I have arachnophobia!"

Han laughed. "It was tiny though."

And somehow, somewhere between arguing about fictional characters and stealing handfuls of Han's popcorn without asking, Woongki gradually grew quieter. His complaints turned into mumbles. His reactions became slower. His head began tilting to the side every few minutes. And eventually, halfway through telling Han why the movie made no sense, he yawned.

Han smiled immediately.

"Tired?"

"Mhm." Woongki didn't even bother denying it.

"Sleep, then." Han laughed quietly. Woongki's eyes were already drooping, his voice small and drowsy. Cute.

Without thinking, Woongki shifted closer until his head came to rest against Han's shoulder. Natural. Easy. Like he'd done it a hundred times.

Han's smile softened. There was something unfair about how comfortable Woongki was around him. Something that made warmth bloom quietly in his chest.

He liked this. The movie nights, the stolen popcorn, the bickering and comfortable conversations they had while the movie ended and the credits were rolling. Woongki rambling until he got sleepy. The way he always ended up curled beside him somehow. The trust in those little unconscious habits.

Han reached over and adjusted the blanket that had fallen around Woongki's waist.

"Seriously, you'll catch a cold."

"Mhm."

"You're not even listening!"

"Mhm."

Han rolled his eyes and chuckled. Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.

And then, half asleep, with his eyes already closed and his cheek pressed against Han's shoulder, Woongki mumbled softly,

"Thanks, hyung."

Han stopped breathing.

For one brief, beautiful second, his brain simply ceased functioning.

And then, all tiredness seemed to miraculously leave the older's body as his eyes flew open.

Silence.

Han slowly looked down, while Woongki, as if realizing something catastrophic had just happened, lifted his gaze toward him. For a moment, Woongki just sat there. Then he straightened abruptly, like his body had decided it needed distance from the entire situation.

“Fuck, I'm so sorry, I'm– I’m leaving,” He announced.

Han’s hand shot out immediately, catching his wrist before he could even properly shift his weight. “No.”

“I’m leaving,” Woongki repeated, more urgent this time, already twisting slightly as if preparing an escape route.

“No, you're not going anywhere.”

“Han.”

“Why are you–”

“Han, please.”

That one finally cracked something. Woongki looked genuinely distressed now, like this wasn’t just embarrassment anymore but survival instinct kicking in.

“Please let me disappear,” He said in an over the top whine, head falling backwards. 

That did it. Han completely broke, laughter spilling out before he could stop it. “Woongki–”

“No!” Woongki cut in instantly, as if trying to shut down even the sound of amusement. “This isn’t funny!”

“It’s okay!” Han managed between breaths, still holding onto his wrist.

“No, it’s not okay! It’s embarrassing!” He moaned. 

Han was barely able to breathe at this point, shoulders shaking. “It’s kind of cute, though.”

Woongki froze for half a second before groaning loudly and covering his face with both hands, as if that would somehow erase the last minute of his life. “Why would you say that again?” his voice came muffled through his palms.

“Because it is,” Han said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, it’s not!”

“It really is.”

“I’m going to evaporate.”

“Woongki.”

“No, I can't hear you!” 

Han smiled helplessly, because it was in fact cute. What did Woongki know? Not just the "hyung", not just the embarrassment, not just the red ears and dramatic attempts to flee.

Everything. Everything about him.

The sleepy eyes, the way he'd instinctively leaned on him, the way he trusted Han enough to fall asleep next to him, the way he'd mumbled that tiny thank you without even thinking.

The way he kept trying to protect his dignity while simultaneously being the most adorable person Han had ever met.

Woongki lowered his hands slightly.

"You don't think it's weird?"

They had this conversation before. Still, there was something vulnerable in his voice, something small. 

Almost as if Woongki was looking for Han's validation. 

Han's laughter faded. "No. I really don’t think it's weird, Woongki. I swear."

His answer came so naturally that Han didn't even have to think it through. Woongki stared, and Han found himself unable to breathe. 

People always noticed Woongki when he was loud. When he was laughing too hard, talking too much, filling every silence with something ridiculous. Bright and shameless and impossible to miss.

But Han had come to realize those weren't the moments that stayed with him.

It was this.

The moments when the laughter faded and Woongki simply looked at him, eyes soft and unguarded, as though there was nothing to hide and nowhere else he'd rather be.

There was something disarmingly sincere about it.

Something that quieted Han's thoughts instead of stirring them.

And for a fleeting second, with Woongki looking at him like that and their hands still intertwined, Han felt strangely content.

As though, somehow, he'd already been given more than he'd known to ask for.

And Han realized something terrifying.

He craved seeing that look. He thrived making Woongki smile. He loved hearing his laugh, absolutely melted when he leaned against him without thinking.

Liked taking care of him.

Liked seeing him sleepy.

Liked being the person Woongki sought out when he wanted company.

Liked hearing "Hani."

Liked hearing "hyung."

Liked–

Oh.

Oh.

Han was fucked.

It wasn't about one embarrassing slip anymore, it wasn't about teasing the older. 

Heck, it wasn't even about finding Woongki cute anymore. 

Somewhere between the little movie tradition they had going on and shared blankets, between bickering during dance practice and vocal lessons.. 

Somewhere between all the little moments that had become so ordinary they no longer felt remarkable…

Han had fallen.

Completely.

And judging by the fact that Woongki still hadn't let go of his hand and the blush creeping up his ears, judging by the way he was looking at Han now, shy and embarrassed but not pulling away…

Maybe. Just maybe.

It wasn't one sided.

Before Han could spiral more into these newfound thoughts about his friend, a whimper redirected his attention.

Woongki was still looking at him strangely. "You're serious?" he asked quietly.

Han nodded. "One hundred percent."

A beat passed. Then, with the tips of his ears turning red again, Woongki mumbled, "I'm still never calling you that again."

Han laughed. "That's a shame."

Woongki blinked. "What?"

Han smiled, thumb brushing absently over the back of the hand he'd been holding this entire time. "I kind of liked it."

Woongki froze. Han almost laughed at the expression on his face, but held back. He needed Woongki to know he was absolutely serious about this. 

"Not in front of everyone," he added, voice softer now. "I'd die of embarrassment too."

Woongki's eyes widened. "But..." Han shrugged lightly, suddenly finding the words embarrassingly difficult to say. "When it's just us..." He trailed off, feeling warmth creep up his own neck. "I don't mind."

Woongki simply stared, and Han realized, with startling clarity, that he wasn't saying it just to make Woongki feel better. He wasn't humoring him. He wasn't teasing.

He meant it.

He liked hearing that voice say hyung. Liked the trust behind it. Liked that Woongki had said it so naturally, without thinking. Liked that there was apparently a version of Woongki that belonged only to moments like this, quiet and sleepy and soft around the edges, and selfishly, Han found himself wanting to know that version better.

Woongki lowered his gaze. "Just us?" he repeated softly.

Han smiled. "Just us."

Neither of them said anything after that. There wasn't really anything left to say.

Outside, the movie credits had long finished rolling. The whole room had grown quiet.

Somehow, without either of them noticing, their fingers had become intertwined.

Woongki squeezed his hand. "...Okay, hyung."

Han's heart nearly leaped out of his chest. 

The sudden warmth in his chest caught him off guard, so intense and wild that all he could do was smile like an idiot. 

And this time, he didn't even try to hide how happy it made him feel. Maybe nothing would change tomorrow.

Or maybe everything would. Han didn't know.

But as Woongki leaned against his shoulder once more, mumbling about what movie they should watch next time, Han thought that for now, this was more than enough.