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THE BACKSTAGE dressing room at M Countdown was an absolute mess, somehow getting worse with every passing minute. Metal clothing racks blocked half the walkway, stylists rushed back and forth with hangers and leather outfits in their arms, and the sharp scent of hairspray mixed with the sweet perfume of expensive makeup, hanging heavily in the air.
To make things even worse, the muffled sound of the main stage speakers echoed through the soundproof walls, carrying the previous group's performance and serving as a constant reminder that their own stage was coming up fast. The visual chaos and constant noise did absolutely nothing to calm anyone's nerves. If anything, it only added to the adrenaline already running through the members before the show.
Woojin sat in front of one of the few lit-up vanity mirrors, trying to keep his head still while one of the makeup artists dusted a final layer of powder over his face. Every muscle in his body felt tense. It wasn't just the usual nerves that came with performing live on national television—it was a dull frustration that had been building ever since he'd stepped into the company that morning. The exhaustion from countless late nights spent in the studio had finally caught up with him, leaving his patience hanging by a thread.
— Ya... could you stop messing with my rings? — Ryul's voice cut through the noise of the dressing room, sharp enough to make a few heads turn.
He was standing a few steps away from Woojin's vanity, pulling a small black velvet box out from beneath a pile of used tissues while pointing an accusing finger at him.
— I wasn't touching your stuff, hyung. — Woojin shot back immediately, making absolutely no effort to hide the edge in his voice.
Ryul muttered something under his breath, rummaged through the rest of the boxes on the counter, then stomped off to the other side of the room. Woojin let out a slow breath, trying to ease the tension in his neck.
In front of him, the makeup artist stepped back with her brush still in hand, giving her work one last look under the bright vanity lights.
— All done, Woojin. You look great. — she said softly, offering him a warm smile as she packed away her makeup.
Woojin glanced at his reflection.
She wasn't wrong. His makeup was flawless, and his hair had been styled neatly back, framing his features perfectly.
He gave her a small nod in thanks and stood up, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tightness that had suddenly settled around his ribs.
It only took two steps before the leather jacket pulled awkwardly against his sides.
The material was far too stiff, and every time he took a deeper breath, it felt like the jacket refused to move with him. The tightness quickly went from annoying to genuinely uncomfortable, making his already thin patience wear even thinner.
Across the dressing room, the others were already getting into position for one last run-through. Ohyul clapped his hands together to gather everyone's attention, while Louis stood quietly off to the side, adjusting his in-ear monitor.
Woojin moved into formation, but the moment he lifted his arm for the first count, the jacket tugged painfully across his shoulders, stopping the movement halfway.
— Woojin-ah, you're late on your cue again. — Ryul complained immediately, bringing the practice to a stop as he shot him an annoyed look.
— I'm not late. This bloody jacket's stopping me from moving my arm. — Woojin snapped, his voice rising as the tightness around his chest made it harder to breathe. — Why're you picking a fight with me over everything?!
Ryul opened his mouth to fire back, but Ohyul didn't give him the chance.
— Would you two just shut it? — the leader cut in, his firm voice echoing through the dressing room as he glared at both of them through the mirror.
Woojin let out a heavy sigh and didn't bother replying.
He tugged at the collar of his jacket, hoping it'd make it easier to breathe, but the stiff leather kept pressing against his ribs. It was unbearable.
— Woojin-ah, what's wrong? — Ohyul asked, his tone noticeably softer. The irritation from moments ago had disappeared, replaced with a hint of concern. — What's going on with your outfit?
Woojin let go of the collar and looked down at his chest, taking a strained breath just to show how little the fabric gave. He tried rolling his right shoulder, but the leather stretched taut with a quiet creak, stopping the movement halfway.
— These straps on the side... — Woojin explained, his voice coming out slightly muffled with exhaustion. — They're pulling the whole jacket backwards. I can barely take a deep breath, hyung, let alone lift my arm during the chorus.
Ohyul stepped closer and pressed a hand against one of the metal buckles holding the main straps in place, testing the tension. He frowned almost immediately.
— The wardrobe staff are probably running around somewhere. Go try the fitting room at the back and see if you can loosen that knot. We'll let you know if we find someone.
— Thanks, hyung. — Woojin replied, feeling genuinely relieved that he didn't have to argue anymore.
He turned away from the main mirror and headed towards the small fitting room.
The space inside was tiny, barely big enough for one person. A narrow mirror hung on the wall, lit by a single yellowish bulb that somehow made the room feel even hotter.
Woojin shut the door behind him and stood in front of his reflection, raising his hands to undo the buckle on the side that Ohyul had pointed out.
But his fingers were trembling from the stress of the argument and the rush before the performance.
Instead of unclipping the metal fastener, he pulled the leather strap the wrong way, tightening it even further and creating a stubborn knot right against his ribs.
Woojin had to use every ounce of self-control he had.
He really, really did.
Because at that moment, all he wanted to do was swear every curse word he knew.
Instead of snapping and making a scene, he simply squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw until it ached as he rested his forehead against the cold mirror.
The tiny fitting room seemed to get hotter with every passing second, and the leather strap digging even deeper into his ribs made him feel horribly trapped. He drew in a sharp breath through his nose, trying to keep himself together, then raised his arms again to undo the stupid mistake he'd just made with the knot.
But the more his trembling fingers fumbled with it, the more the stiff leather seemed to catch on the metal buckle.
It was completely jammed.
Real panic finally started to settle in when he remembered they had less than ten minutes before going on stage.
There he was, alone in that cramped little space, practically unable to move, with no one around to help him. The thought of a staff member calling them at any second, only for him to miss the very first formation because of one bloody buckle, made his stomach twist.
A cold bead of sweat slid down the back of his neck.
He yanked at the strap with all his strength, his eyes stinging with pure frustration, almost ready to tear the company's costume apart with his teeth if that was what it took.
It was right in the middle of that silent panic that a knock on the door broke the suffocating silence of the cubicle.
Woojin flinched, quickly turning his head, ready to tell whoever it was to go away.
But the words caught in his throat.
— Hyung? You in there? — Louis' voice came from the other side of the thin partition.
Woojin swallowed hard, his hands still awkwardly stuck near his ribs and his forehead resting against the cold mirror. He could barely catch his breath, let alone put together a proper explanation.
— Hm? — was all he managed, the muffled sound coming out more like a frustrated grumble than an actual response.
He figured that would be enough to make the younger member realise he wanted to be left alone—or at least wait outside until he'd managed to untangle the leather.
But Louis didn't bother asking for permission.
The door clicked open, and whatever little space had been left inside the cramped fitting room disappeared the moment Louis's tall frame slipped through the doorway. He stepped inside without hesitation, pulled the door shut behind him, and locked the two of them inside a cubicle that was barely big enough for one person. The yellowish light hanging from the ceiling almost brushed the top of Louis's head, casting long shadows that somehow made the room feel even smaller... and a whole lot warmer.
Woojin stayed frozen in front of the narrow mirror, his fingers still caught on the stubborn knot.
He met Louis's reflection behind him with a mixture of surprise and irritation, painfully aware that time was slipping away.
— Louis, get out of here. There's barely enough room for one of us. — Woojin muttered, trying to shuffle sideways to force a path past him.
The sudden movement made the stiff leather yank painfully across his back, locking his shoulder in place and drawing an obvious grimace from him.
— I need to undo this stupid buckle, and I need to do it fast. We've only got a few minutes left, and Ohyul's gonna lose it if we're late because of me.
Louis didn't move an inch.
He stood there like a wall behind him, blocking the only way out, completely unfazed by the older member's irritation. Calmly, he lowered his gaze to where Woojin's trembling hands were still struggling with the leather, focusing on the hopelessly tangled knot wrapped around the metal buckle.
— Hyung... let me help you? — he asked softly, his calm voice filling the tiny space between them—a calm Woojin definitely didn't have right now.
Before Woojin could come up with another stubborn excuse or try to move away again, Louis took the final step forward.
The fitting room was so cramped that his chest brushed lightly against Woojin's back, making the older man instinctively lean backwards until his shoulder blades bumped against the hard partition behind him.
— Ah... whatever. — Woojin mumbled, barely above a whisper.
Louis raised his long arms, sliding them past either side of Woojin to reach the tangled leather straps.
Being noticeably taller, he all but caged the older man against the wall.
His long fingers carefully found the twisted mess of leather and metal.
— Is this what's causing the problem? — Louis asked quietly, lifting his eyes for just a second to meet Woojin's from below.
They were close enough that their breaths mingled in the dimly lit space.
— Yeah... that's it. — Woojin replied, his voice coming out weaker than he'd intended.
He tried pointing at the knot with his index finger, but the movement made his fingertips brush against Louis's.
The brief touch only made the strange warmth filling the tiny room grow even stronger.
— I pulled the wrong strap because I was in a rush... and it ended up like this. I can't get it undone no matter what I do.
Louis didn't answer straight away.
He simply kept his eyes on the stubborn knot for another few seconds, studying the mess the older man had managed to make out of the stiff leather before pulling a disapproving face.
— Blimey... how did you even manage to do this, hyung?
— I already told you, I was in a rush. — Woojin tried to defend himself, though his voice came out as little more than a muffled whisper. — Please... can't you just go get someone? We're not gonna get this undone.
— There's no time to look for anyone. We've only got a few minutes left. — Louis muttered, ignoring the suggestion as he stepped even closer.
He dug the tip of his fingernail into the folded leather, trying to force it loose. He was genuinely trying, his fingers pressing firmly against Woojin's side as he searched for even the tiniest bit of slack in the tangled mess.
Woojin let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head impatiently.
His eyes stayed fixed on the narrow mirror, watching the younger member's futile attempts while the ticking clock weighed heavier and heavier on his mind.
— See? I told you it wasn't gonna work. — Woojin grumbled, trying to shift away from the uncomfortable pressure, but the movement only made the knot dig in even more. — Louis, just stop. I'll cut the stupid thing with something, or—
— Hold still, hyung. If you keep moving, you're only gonna make it worse. — Louis cut him off, his voice a little firmer, far too focused on the problem to look up.
To get a better look at where the leather had caught in the jacket's stitching, Louis moved even closer, leaving almost no space between them.
He bent his knees slightly, lowering himself until his eyes were level with the knot near Woojin's ribs.
With Louis crouched behind him like that, Woojin could feel the warmth radiating from the younger man's body against his back.
The constant brush of Louis's warm fingers over the thin fabric of his undershirt slowly turned Woojin's impatience into a paralysing nervousness.
He froze.
His eyes widened slightly in the mirror, his chest rising and falling faster than he could control.
The muffled noise from the dressing room outside seemed to disappear completely.
Inside the tiny cubicle, all Woojin could hear was the frantic pounding of his own heartbeat, the faint scrape of Louis's fingernails against the leather, and the occasional frustrated mutter in English slipping from Louis under his breath as he wrestled with the stubborn knot.
Louis clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed that nothing was working.
Every attempt to force the knot loose pushed more firmly against Woojin's side, nudging him little by little closer to the mirror in front of him.
Woojin could feel his cheeks growing warm in a way not even all the makeup backstage could hide.
In the reflection, he could see the top of Louis's hair and the tense line of his broad shoulders as he leaned over the tangled straps.
— Louis... — Woojin tried again, but his voice cracked, barely audible.
He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself.
— Just forget it. Let's go. I'll get through the performance like this.
— You can't dance like this. You'll end up hurting yourself. — Louis replied stubbornly, switching back to Korean without even looking up from the knot.
Louis shifted his grip, planting his left hand firmly on Woojin's waist for leverage while using his right to tug hard on the buckle.
The feeling of that broad hand spread against his hip, gripping the fabric so firmly, made Woojin's brain short-circuit.
His fingers clamped onto the edge of the vanity with so much force that his knuckles turned white.
— You're crushing me. — Woojin murmured, his voice coming out shaky and uneven as he spoke against the mirror, both palms pressed against the counter to steady himself while he felt Louis's larger body flush against his back.
— Sorry... but I've gotta get the costume loose.
Then—
A sharp metallic snap echoed through the tiny fitting room.
The stubborn knot finally gave in under Louis's persistence.
The leather strap loosened at once, and air rushed back into Woojin's lungs.
— See? Told you I'd get it. — Louis said with a triumphant grin.
Through the mirror, Woojin caught sight of the younger man's proud expression, teeth showing in the goofy smile of someone who'd just won a bet.
The relief of finally being able to breathe without the leather crushing his ribs made his shoulders relax almost instantly.
A quiet laugh escaped him, and without thinking, he let himself lean back ever so slightly.
— Thanks. I honestly thought I'd end up going on stage with a ripped outfit. — Woojin murmured as he slowly turned around in the cramped space, wanting to thank him properly.
And that was when it hit him.
The fitting room was still far too small for two people.
And Louis hadn't taken a single step back.
The moment Woojin turned around, he found himself face-to-face with the younger man.
The victorious smile slowly faded from Louis's lips, replaced by something far more serious... far more focused.
He kept both arms outstretched, his palms still resting against the wooden walls of the fitting room on either side of Woojin's shoulders, leaving the older man completely boxed in.
Woojin swallowed hard as his back lightly brushed against the cool partition behind him.
He tried to look anywhere else, but there was nowhere else to look.
The silence that settled between them grew so heavy it drowned out the staff's chatter and the loud music coming from the dressing room outside.
For the two of them, the world had narrowed to nothing but that tiny, stifling cubicle.
Slowly, Louis lowered his gaze.
His eyes settled on Woojin's lips, still slightly parted in surprise after finding himself trapped like this.
The truth was, Louis had been carrying a strange, heavy feeling in his chest for weeks now—an impulse he'd been trying his best to ignore, but one that suddenly became impossible to suppress inside that tiny fitting room.
He always caught himself staring at Woojin's lips for a little too long during rehearsals, watching the shape of them from across the room while the older man counted choreography or explained changes to a track in the studio.
But seeing them this close, with the warm yellow light tracing the soft texture of Woojin's skin and his hurried breaths brushing against Louis's chin, completely tangled his thoughts.
Seeing Woojin seem so much smaller there, boxed in between his arms, his chest rising and falling with nervous breaths, filled Louis with an overwhelming urge to close what little distance remained between them.
— Hyung... — Louis murmured, his voice coming out much lower and rougher than usual.
He let his hands slip away from the wooden walls and slowly brought his arms forward instead, his palms settling gently against either side of Woojin's waist.
His firm touch over the loosened leather jacket drew the older man a fraction closer until their bodies were pressed together completely.
Woojin caught his breath at once.
His eyes widened slightly as they locked onto Louis's, noticing how unusually dilated they seemed.
Then, for the briefest moment, Louis froze.
His fingers tightened around the fabric of the jacket as hesitation washed over him.
Woojin was his hyung. His friend. Someone he trusted.
Was this really okay?
Trying to think straight beneath that gaze was becoming impossible.
Louis felt genuinely torn, his thoughts caught between the fear of ruining their friendship and the overwhelming urge that seemed to burn in the back of his throat.
He didn't know whether he should keep going...
...or simply step back and pretend none of this had ever happened.
But Woojin stayed exactly where he was.
He didn't push Louis away.
He didn't turn his face.
He didn't even move back a single inch, despite the almost nonexistent space between their lips.
The older man seemed just as frozen by the closeness as Louis was, his eyes fixed on Louis's with quiet anticipation.
That lack of resistance was enough for every last trace of doubt to disappear with the breath leaving Louis's lips.
He tilted his head ever so slightly, closing the final sliver of distance between them.
Their lips met.
The kiss was startlingly simple.
Louis's lips brushed against Woojin's with hesitant slowness. It was obvious he wasn't used to this—or perhaps he simply had no idea what he was doing.
It was clumsy, guided by nothing but impulse.
And somehow, that shy uncertainty was exactly what made Woojin's heart soften.
At first, Woojin stayed completely rigid against the dressing room wall, eyes wide from the shock of seeing the maknae take the lead like that.
But then he noticed it—the faint tremble in Louis’s lips, the almost innocent way he was trying to keep the contact steady.
Slowly, Woojin let out a shaky breath.
He closed his eyes.
And he gave in, his shoulders finally relaxing.
Feeling the shift, Louis tightened his hold, his hands firm on Woojin’s waist as he pulled him closer.
The cramped space offered no mercy—there was nowhere for either of them to go. The movement pressed Woojin straight against the cold mirror behind him, trapping him there.
Woojin grabbed at the fabric on Louis’s shoulders, pushing himself up slightly onto his toes just to meet him more comfortably.
The kiss continued slowly, clumsy, lacking any real technique—but still enough to make everything else fade away.
Louis’s hands slid more firmly to his hips, holding him steady against the glass, drawing a quiet breath from Woojin that got lost between their mouths.
His head felt dizzy from the heat of the tiny room, the constant friction of their bodies, the closeness—
But the moment broke when air finally became a problem, forcing them to pull apart slowly, their foreheads still almost touching.
Their lips separated by only a few centimeters, warmth still lingering between them in the dim light.
They stayed like that for a few seconds, trying to catch their breath, trying to process what had just happened.
Louis’s ears and neck were already burning bright red under the yellow lamp. He blinked a few times, looking genuinely overwhelmed by his own courage.
— Hyung, I… I’m sorry — he started quickly, stammering, pulling his hands away from Woojin’s waist like he didn’t know what to do with them anymore. — I don’t even know why I did that, it was just… the heat of the moment and I was only trying to help with the jacket and I just acted without thinking, I’m sorry—
Woojin stayed pressed against the mirror, his heart skipping unevenly at the sight of Louis spiraling into flustered panic.
He opened his mouth to tell him it was okay, that he didn’t need to apologise—
But the words died in his throat.
Two knocks sounded at the door.
— Boys? Are you in there? — one of the stylists called out, her voice rushed. — Come on, LNGSHOT is next up! Ohyul and Ryul are already heading down to the stage corridor.
Footsteps faded away down the hallway, snapping both of them back to reality like a punch.
Louis exhaled sharply, only just realising he’d been holding his breath, and straightened his outfit with slightly clumsy fingers in an attempt to regain composure.
Woojin pushed himself off the cold mirror, adjusting his jacket—which now felt perfectly comfortable—and gave him a small, reassuring half-smile.
— It’s fine, Lou. We’ll talk later, yeah? — Woojin murmured, reaching for the door and pushing it open.
Outside, the dressing room was nearly empty now, only a couple of stylists left gathering hangers and clearing racks.
The leader and the other member had already gone ahead.
Louis walked just a step behind, doing his best to look composed, silently hoping the red on his ears would fade before they reached the bright stage lights.
They passed through the heavy double doors and into the concrete hallway leading backstage.
Up ahead, near the left stage entrance, the other two members were finishing up with their in-ear monitors alongside the technical staff.
— Took you long enough! I thought you’d disappeared or something, — the leader said as soon as he spotted them, glancing at Louis first, then at Woojin’s outfit. — So, did the jacket get fixed?
— Yeah. Louis helped me. — Woojin replied simply, adjusting his in-ear piece and exchanging a quick, knowing glance with the younger one.
Ryul only shrugged, still mildly annoyed from earlier but too focused on the performance to push it any further.
Just before that, Louis stepped a little closer—just enough for his shoulder to brush Woojin’s in the dark.
His hand found Woojin’s for a second, brief and unsteady.
It was nothing. And somehow, everything.
And then—
The lights snapped on.
The show began.