Chapter Text
1.
The digital LED clock, hanging above the massive mirrors of the HYBE dance studio, blinked mercilessly: 01:30 AM.
The room was bathed in the sterile, artificial glare of fluorescent white lights, which seemed to drain the last drops of energy from anyone beneath them. The central air conditioning hummed in a low, constant drone, struggling to cool a space that, after five hours of non-stop rehearsal, was thick with body heat and the humidity of sweat. The subtle scent of deodorant mingled with the sharp, overwhelming aroma of physical exhaustion hung heavy in the air.
Kim Sunoo sat in the far left corner of the room, as far from the center of the studio as possible. His back was pressed against the cold wall, the contrast of the plaster's temperature against his damp t-shirt sending a phantom shiver down his spine that he chose to ignore. His knees were pulled to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs as he desperately tried to regulate his breathing. Every inhale was short and labored. His blonde hair, usually so perfectly styled and soft, now stuck in messy strands against his sweat-slicked forehead. He closed his eyes for a moment, his eyelids weighing a ton, his long lashes casting small shadows on his cheeks, which were flushed a deep, natural cherry red.
Around him, the rest of the members were sprawled out like fallen soldiers after a battle. In the center of the light linoleum floor, Heeseung lay on his back, arms outstretched in a cross, his chest heaving frantically, his eyes locked on the ceiling as if trying to find some salvation there. Near the door, Jake drank water from a massive thermal bottle, spilling half of it down his chin without caring, while Jay, sitting on the floor with his hands propped behind him, kept his eyes closed, his head hanging back from pure fatigue. Ni-ki was inexplicably still standing, using the mirror for leverage as he stretched his calves, his sharp, tired eyes wandering over his own reflection.
And then, there was Park Sunghoon.
Sunoo didn’t need to open his eyes to know where Sunghoon was. He never did. It was an irritating skill, a sort of unwanted, invisible radar his body had developed back in the I-LAND days. He could feel the shift in air pressure, the way Sunghoon’s presence altered the density of the space around him.
When Sunoo finally opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh light, the first thing he saw was Sunghoon’s reflection in the massive mirror in front of him. Sunghoon was standing on the other side of the room, drying his clenched jaw with a fluffy white towel. He was wearing loose black sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt that, clinging to his body from sweat, outlined the broad expanse of his shoulders. Sunghoon stopped wiping his neck. Through the mirror, his dark, inscrutable eyes fixed directly on Sunoo’s huddled figure in the corner.
Sunoo swallowed hard but held his gaze in the reflection. For a split second, Sunghoon’s expression remained perfectly neutral, unreadable, cold as the ice he used to skate on. But then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his lips curled up. It wasn’t an open smile. It was that subtle, predatory, contained smirk, the one that revealed just the tip of his canine tooth.
Oh no, Sunoo thought, shrinking a little further against the wall. Here he comes.
The studio was huge. There were meters of empty floor, unexplored corners, empty beanbags stacked near the soundboard. Sunghoon could sit anywhere. He could lie down next to Heeseung. He could go bother Jay. But instead, his rubber-soled sneakers began to squeak against the linoleum, walking deliberately, in a straight, non-negotiable line, to the left corner of the studio. To Sunoo.
Sunghoon didn’t stop at a polite distance. He dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged, way too close. So close that when he settled in, Sunghoon’s left knee bumped against Sunoo’s right thigh. The thermal shock of Sunghoon’s hot body radiated through the thin fabric of Sunoo’s pants.
Sunoo let out a loud exhale, making no effort to hide his frustration. He scooted a few inches away along the wall, trying to create an invisible barrier of personal space.
"The studio is eighty square meters, hyung," Sunoo muttered, his voice raspy from exhaustion, turning his face to glare at him with a natural pout already forming on his full lips. "Did you really have to sit almost on top of me?"
Sunghoon didn't even look at him immediately. He continued wiping the sweat from the back of his neck at a leisurely pace, his forearm muscles flexing under the harsh light. When he finally turned to face Sunoo, that innocent expression was plastered on his face. Sunghoon’s dark eyes, framed by those thick, expressive brows, shimmered with silent, irritating amusement.
"Why are you so defensive, Sunoo-ya?" Sunghoon’s voice was low, a velvety, relaxed timbre that contrasted absurdly with Sunoo’s panting chest. "I just wanted a place to rest."
"You have the entire room to yourself," Sunoo grumbled, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. He tried to look intimidating, but with his cheeks so round and flushed, and his eyes bright with fatigue, he knew he probably looked more like an angry squirrel than an imposing idol.
Sunghoon let out a nasal laugh. He leaned in, completely ignoring the inches Sunoo had tried to gain, and invaded his personal space all over again. Sunghoon’s scent washed over Sunoo’s senses, it was a mix of his subtle woody cologne, clean sweat, and that icy hint of mint that seemed to follow him everywhere.
Sunghoon raised his right hand and, with a cold index finger, poked firmly at Sunoo’s red cheek.
"Hyung!" Sunoo swatted his hand away, a weak slap that Sunghoon dodged with ease, letting out a low, husky laugh.
"Your cheeks are almost burning, Sunoo. You look like a ripe apple about to burst," Sunghoon teased, his voice heavy with that mocking tone he reserved only for him. Sunghoon never poked Heeseung when Heeseung was tired. He never threw himself into Jungwon’s personal space like that when the leader was trying to breathe.
But with Sunoo, it was as if the remote control for Sunghoon’s composure was thrown out the window.
"I'm hot," Sunoo huffed, turning his face in the opposite direction, staring at his own feet. He uncrossed his arms and reached out for his plastic water bottle, which sat on the floor, slightly in front of them.
In the exact millisecond Sunoo’s fingers brushed the cold plastic, Sunghoon’s hand shot out like a viper, grabbing the bottle first and pulling it away.
Sunoo froze, his hand hovering in the empty air. He turned his neck slowly, eyes wide, disbelief etched into every feature of his face.
Sunghoon was holding the bottle close to his own chest, the towel now draped over his broad shoulders. He had his left eyebrow slightly arched and an annoyingly charming smirk.
"You want this, Sunoo-ya?" Sunghoon asked, shaking the bottle slightly. The water made a wet sound inside.
"Give it to me, hyung," Sunoo asked, his voice slipping into that whiny tone he hated, but which escaped naturally when he was frustrated. He reached his hand toward Sunghoon, trying to grab the bottle, but Sunghoon just leaned his back against the wall, pulling it further away, which forced Sunoo to lean dangerously over him.
The dynamic shifted in an instant. Sunoo was supported on one knee, his chest almost pressing against Sunghoon’s shoulder as he tried to reach for the water. The sudden proximity was suffocating. Sunghoon didn’t pull back. In fact, he braced Sunoo’s weight with an irritating solidity, not breaking eye contact for a millisecond.
Sunghoon’s eyes traveled from Sunoo’s furious gaze down to his bottom lip, which was now trapped between his teeth in pure irritation, then traveled slowly back up with a calmness that made Sunoo’s stomach tie into a blind knot.
"Ask nicely, Sunoo," Sunghoon teased, his voice dropping half an octave.
"I’m dying of thirst! Stop playing around," Sunoo threw himself backward, giving up on brute force and hitting his back against the wall again, crossing his arms with a huge, pronounced pout. His chest rose and fell faster now, and it wasn't just because of the choreography. He hated how Sunghoon could destabilize him in under two minutes.
Sunghoon watched him for a few more seconds. There was an indecipherable glint in those dilated pupils. He finally unscrewed the cap and, with a surprisingly gentle movement, placed the bottle in Sunoo’s hands.
"You look terrible when you pout," Sunghoon murmured. But the tone of his voice, soft and velvety, violently contradicted the harsh words.
Sunoo grabbed the bottle, rolling his eyes so hard he thought he might see his own brain. He took a large gulp of water, feeling his dry throat thank him, trying to ignore the way Sunghoon’s eyes followed the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.
When Sunoo lowered the bottle, Sunghoon was smiling. That goofy, silent smile, his eyes forming two happy half-moons. He raised his hand again and, before Sunoo could dodge, ruffled the younger boy’s damp hair vigorously.
"Don't mess up my hair!" Sunoo groaned, trying to fix the ruined strands.
"Sunghoon, come run this transition with me, you’re bumping into Jake on the second count!" Heeseung’s voice cut through the room, sharp and authoritative, from the other side.
Sunghoon sighed, his smile fading. He stood up with fluid grace, resting his hand for a second on Sunoo’s knee to gain momentum. The touch was light, but it burned.
"I'm coming," Sunghoon replied to Heeseung. He looked down, back at Sunoo, who was still frantically fixing his hair. "Get some rest, Sunoo-ya. Your face still looks like a tomato."
And with that, he turned his back and walked away.
Sunoo was left alone in the corner, gripping the water bottle hard enough to crinkle the plastic. He took a deep breath, trying to control the beating of his own heart, which, for some inexplicable reason, was missing a beat. He was frustrated. He was tired. And, above all, he was confused.
Why always him?
Sunoo’s eyes wandered the studio until they found a silent figure sitting on the small black leather couch squeezed next to the water cooler. Jungwon.
The leader of the group had a tablet on his lap, white wireless earbuds in his ears, a towel over his shoulders. Jungwon looked like the epitome of calm. His sharp, almond-shaped eyes drifted down the screen, but Sunoo wasn't an idiot. He knew that Jungwon, even when appearing completely absorbed, recorded absolutely everything that happened in the room. Jungwon was the silent epicenter of the team’s dynamic.
Sunoo stood up, his legs a bit shaky from the previous effort, and dragged his feet to the couch. He didn’t ask for permission, he just threw himself onto the worn leather, falling heavily beside the leader. Their shoulders bumped slightly.
Jungwon didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look away from the tablet screen, where the video of their last rehearsal played without sound. With his free left hand, he simply dragged his own water bottle to make more room for Sunoo, an automatic gesture of comfort.
Sunoo let out a sigh so long and dramatic it sounded more like a flat tire. He slumped down on the couch, letting his head hang back, his gaze focused on the stained ceiling.
"I can't take it anymore," Sunoo declared, his voice dramatic.
Jungwon gave a small smile, the corners of his lips forming those deep dimples, and paused the video with a tap of his thumb. He turned his face calmly toward the elder, his eyes observant and sharp.
"Can't take the choreography anymore, or can't take Sunghoon-hyung anymore?" Jungwon asked. His voice was soft, balanced, without a hint of accusation, but as precise as a scalpel.
Sunoo closed his eyes and let out a frustrated groan, covering his face with both hands.
"How do you know?" Sunoo’s voice came out muffled behind his own fingers.
"I have eyes, hyung," Jungwon replied, simplistically. He leaned back on the couch too, crossing one leg over the other, adopting a relaxed posture. "And ears. And you two aren't exactly discreet. Especially him."
Sunoo pulled his hands down abruptly and turned to Jungwon, his expression a mix of pent-up anger and genuine exhaustion. His cheeks were still tinged pink.
"Why is he like this, Jungwon-ah? Seriously. What did I do to him?" Sunoo asked, his voice failing in a vulnerable tone. He pulled his legs up onto the couch, hugging his knees again. "I was literally sitting quietly on my own. I was just breathing! And he comes over, walks across the whole room, sits almost on top of me, steals my water, pulls my hair, and says i look terrible! He doesn't do this to Heeseung-hyung. He doesn't do this to you! When Jake-hyung wants to be left alone, Sunghoon-hyung gives him space!"
Jungwon listened to it all with the infinite patience of someone who was already used to this script. He tilted his head slightly to the side, his eyes sweeping across Sunoo’s confused face with a deep, silent reading. Jungwon was dangerous because he always knew things others tried to hide even from themselves.
"He just teases you, hyung," Jungwon said, his voice monotonous and objective, as if he were reporting the weather.
"Exactly!" Sunoo threw his hands up in exasperation, almost hitting Jungwon’s arm. "But why? Why always me? Do I look like a walking target? Does he like seeing me annoyed? Does he hate me?"
Jungwon blinked. Once. Twice. The small, feline smile returned to the corners of his lips, accompanied by a very lucid and mature glint in his eyes. He looked briefly at the mirror, where Sunghoon’s reflection was still visible, talking to Heeseung. Sunghoon was paying attention to the dance, but Jungwon noticed that the taller hyung’s eyes wouldn't stop casting furtive glances through the mirror, aimed directly at the couch where they sat.
Jungwon sighed through his nose, turning fully toward Sunoo.
"He doesn't hate you, Sunoo-hyung. It's exactly the opposite."
Sunoo frowned, confusion clouding his light eyes. He relaxed his defensive posture a bit, leaning his torso toward the leader.
"What do you mean, the opposite?" Sunoo asked, his voice dropping instinctively, as if they were sharing a state secret.
Jungwon held his gaze. He used that definitive tone leaders use when they are stating an unquestionable fact.
"He does it because he likes you, hyung. It's simple."
The air in the studio seemed to grow denser.
The hum of the air conditioning suddenly became deafening in Sunoo’s ears. Jungwon’s words hung in the small space between them, heavy, loaded with subtext that Sunoo’s exhausted mind began to dissect at the speed of light.
Likes you.
Sunoo felt a stupid tingling in his fingertips. His heart, which had just calmed down after the dance ended, gave a dangerous jolt against his ribs. It was such a common statement. Everyone there liked each other. They were like brothers, a family formed by survival and time. But the way Jungwon said it, the inflection in his voice, the intensity of that cat-like gaze...
Sunoo bit the inside of his cheek. He dug his nails into the fabric of his own pants, trying to anchor himself in the physical reality of the couch, ignoring how his stomach seemed to be free-falling. The entire room felt like it had switched to slow motion.
He needed to know. He needed Jungwon to clarify it, so he could laugh and say, "Sure, friendship is beautiful," and go back to thinking Sunghoon was just an annoying hyung.
Sunoo leaned in even further, his voice no more than a shaky, fragile whisper. His eyes searched desperately for any sign on the younger boy’s face.
"Jungwon-ah..." Sunoo started, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. He played with his hoodie strings with trembling fingers. "When you say he likes me... do you mean like... in a friendly way, right? Because we all like each other, we're a team. Or do you mean... like in... another way?"
The silence that followed was excruciating.
The question hung in the air, raw and exposed, like a live wire. Sunoo immediately regretted opening his mouth. He wanted to rewind time. He wanted to swallow the words back into his chest and lock it away where it had been hidden for months, disguised as confusion and superficial irritation.
Jungwon didn't change his expression. He didn't laugh. He didn't widen his eyes. He didn't say, “What? Of course not, have you lost your mind, hyung?”, which was the exact answer Sunoo was praying desperately to hear in order to stifle his own thoughts.
Instead, Jungwon looked at Sunoo for three long, painful seconds. The leader’s eyes scanned Sunoo’s scared, vulnerable face. Jungwon saw the nervous anticipation, saw the bated breath, saw the fear that the answer would change everything. And Jungwon, with his scary emotional intelligence and his ability to read the room better than anyone, made a choice.
The leader looked away from Sunoo slowly. With unsettling naturalness, he raised the tablet again, the blue light of the screen bathing his serene face. Jungwon’s thumb unlocked the screen, the rehearsal video playing again in the same split second.
"Do you think we should ask the choreographer to go over the chorus one more time?" Jungwon asked, his voice returning to that professional, casual, and perfectly rhythmic calm. He pointed to the screen with his index finger. "Jake-hyung’s timing was a little ahead here on the break, and it throws off the back formation. If we don't fix it now, Ni-ki is going to be complaining all week."
Sunoo was paralyzed. His mouth was slightly open, his lungs refusing to release the air he had sucked in before the question.
He blinked, dazed, his brain processing the obvious dodge.
Jungwon had changed the subject. Deliberately, surgically, and cleanly. He hadn’t answered. But the absence of an explicit denial... the refusal to laugh and say it was just friendship... was the loudest answer Jungwon could have given.
Sunoo looked at Jungwon’s relaxed profile, who was just nodding at the tablet screen as if he hadn't just thrown an unpinned grenade into the older boy’s lap.
"R-right..." Sunoo stuttered, his voice failing miserably. He cleared his throat, trying to regain control over his own vocal cords, pulling his body back and shrinking into the couch again. "Yeah, I think... I think we should go over it. The timing."
Sunoo’s heart was now hammering against his ribs in a frantic, scared rhythm. The studio’s cold air was no longer enough to calm the heat rising up his neck.
He looked up shyly. In the large front mirror, his eyes searched almost by instinct. There was Sunghoon, in the center of the room, listening to Heeseung speak. Sunghoon was in profile, his sharp jawline etched against the light, sweat glistening on his skin.
And the exact moment Sunoo looked... Sunghoon’s dark eyes, through the mirror’s reflection, were already locked on him.
Sunghoon held his gaze, deep and unreadable from across the room. The studio was full, the sound of squeaking sneakers and voices surrounded them, but for an eternal instant, the world seemed to have narrowed down to the charged space between the two of them.
Sunoo broke eye contact first, lowering his head, his face burning.
He was in trouble. Very, very serious trouble.