Archive of Our Own

“I’m pissed.” Keonho announces, plopping onto the couch, right between Seonghyeon and the armrest. His arms are crossed against his chest, lips subtly pouting at nothing.

Silence flows over the five boys, each one intently focused on their individual tasks. The Netflix show James is watching however, is playing over the background.

“Someone should probably ask Keonho why he’s pissed.” Martin says as he continues typing on his laptop, Juhoon’s head resting against his shoulder in a quiet slumber. Keonho glares at him, to which the older boy pays no mind.

“Why are you pissed, Keon?” Seonghyeon asks gently, slow as if he was a mother placating their child to prevent a tantrum from building up. He takes a second to pause from writing on his iPad, waiting for Keonho’s response. He stares at him intently, attention wrapped around Keonho’s finger.

“Because minor subjects keep acting like they’re major!” Keonho says, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. “I have a quiz for APS like next week and it’s pissing me off how they’re suddenly riding with the wave and making workload heavier for everyone.”

“Applied Performance Sciences?” Martin asks, to which Keonho nods. “Who’s your teacher? Sir Suh?”

Keonho huffs with a nod. And dear Martin has the audacity to laugh at his face.

“APS is easy. But, you know. Some teachers…”

Keonho groans through his dissatisfaction, memories of boring lectures and bad notes flashing through his mind.

Keonho’s too distracted in his distress to notice the glance Seonghyeon sends in his direction. Nothing much, just eyes that don't need words to speak.

“I’m taking that too.” In an attempt to seem unbothered, Seonghyeon’s eyes stayed glued to his iPad screen. “Do you want notes?”

A smile practically crawls its way through Keonho’s lips, replacing the pout that almost seemed to be permanently glued to his face. Seonghyeon tries to ignore the knocking creeping from inside his chest.

“Yes, oh my God, please send it! Please.” Keonho says, hands clasping in front of him. Seonghyeon gently smiles at his antics, still looking down on his iPad. After a few rounds of Seonghyeon opening different apps, Keonho hears his cellphone chime in his hand. He checks the notification and practically jumps to wrap his arms around Seonghyeon.

“Thank you, Hyeon!” Keonho laughs as Seonghyeon only shakes his head and accepts his fate, cheeks coating in a faint tinge of pink.

On Seonghyeon’s right, Martin lifts his head to check the clock, which shines 2:56 PM in bright red letters. He closes his laptop, head turning towards Seonghyeon.

“It’s almost three.” Martin says, urging Seonghyeon to look at the clock as well.

Martin rubs his thumb over Juhoon’s hair, tangling his fingers into his strands. He gently shakes Juhoon awake, watching as he stirs from his sleep.

Juhoon looks around the room in confusion, eyes landing on Martin as he gazes at him. Martin gives a small smile, quietly gushing about how cute Juhoon looks at this moment.

“Sean and I have to go now.” Martin watches as a tiny pout forms on Juhoon’s lips, eyes still far and disoriented. Martin rests a hand on Juhoon’s cheek before he speaks gently, voice almost a whisper. “I’ll be back, okay? I’ll pick you up later and we can eat dinner together. How’s that?”

Juhoon quietly nods his head, pout still present on his lips. Martin smiles at him, kissing him softly. His reaction is immediate, melting against Martin’s arms. Martin then kisses Juhoon’s forehead before patting his hair down.

Keonho makes a gagging noise as he watches the pair say their goodbyes. Martin and Juhoon are masters at ignoring it.

“What’s that seminar even for?” Keonho asks, adjusting his position on the couch.

“It’s a music prod thing. All levels are required to attend.” Seonghyeon says, standing up to pack up his things. “Why? Wanna join?”

“Nope. I’d rather lay down and sleep.”

“Or maybe, you should study for your APS quiz instead. Shouldn’t you?” Seonghyeon looks back at Keonho at his last question, voice dripping with sarcasm. Keonho only shakes his head at him with a sarcastic smile.

“Hyung, we’ll go ahead.” Martin says as he passes by James on his armchair, on the way to the door. “Take care of Jju for me.”

“What about me?” Keonho chimes in, tone too similar to one of a little brother’s.

“You can take care of yourself.” Martin says as Seonghyeon laughs behind him.

Keonho throws a pillow towards the duo, barely brushing them as the door closes shut.

At the commotion, James slowly turns his head towards Keonho with a glare. Keonho smiles awkwardly, hearing Juhoon’s tiny laugh from where he’s laying beside him.

“Sorry. I’m gonna go pick that up.”

—

The sun snuggles its rays into Keonho’s apartment, shadows inviting themselves into his space.

About twenty minutes after Martin and Seonghyeon left James’ apartment, Keonho followed. Seonghyeon’s voice keeps ringing in his ears, bugging him to use whatever time he has left to do what’s productive for him.

He sighs, his laptop humming as he opens a few things, looking for the notes Seonghyeon sent him earlier that day. He clicks on it, head resting on his free hand as he waits for it to load.

It opens, snapping into full brightness. His screen presents to him a Google Drive folder. Keonho’s head tilts in confusion, staring at the contents.

It’s a folder within one. The folder shines, the title quite odd for APS notes. The main folder has a name that makes Keonho tilt his head.

From E, For A

Okay. As far as Keonho’s aware, Seonghyeon has sent him the wrong link. None of the titles seem to sound anything like the jargon they memorize for Performance Sciences. This is different. It’s not something Keonho knows about.

Keonho moves his mouse, hovering over the folder, title shining with the words pull through. It sits glaringly white against his irises. He takes a second, considering his choices.

Should he just ask Seonghyeon for the link again, or should he just wait? Should he just close the tab and call it a day, or should he linger?

Before Keonho can drag himself out of it, his finger presses on his mouse, curiosity taking control of his instincts. The folder has three files in it.

fall into you lyrics.docx
fall into you mix.wav
fall into you video recording.mp4

It dawns on him. Oh. It’s a song.

Keonho wonders vaguely, if this was a project for one of Seonghyeon’s classes, or if it was just something he conjured up with his own will.

He clicks on the video first.

The thumbnail is of Seonghyeon, inside of the recording booth. The video is taken from outside, the reflection of Martin’s blond hair seen through the glass barrier. Keonho presses play.

A guitar strums over a light muffled drum beat. The chords switch over with some hidden grace, the sounds running over Keonho’s senses. The beat brought over a sense of calm, yet anticipation. Sort of like, there was something about to flow over, something that was right ahead of him.

Seonghyeon’s voice rings through, tone low and airy, words coming through in almost a whisper.

Seonghyeon looked so damn pretty.

Seonghyeon’s eyes were closed for most of the song, eyebrows furrowing, immersing himself in the melody. It’s always a treasure to see Seonhyeon in his element, deep down in his forte.

The video turns black, switching back to its thumbnail. Keonho pauses, breath caught in his throat.

Beyond the fondness in Keonho’s heart, something else aches. It’s dull, quiet, slowly pulsating. He clicks away on the video, opening the document file.

His eyes scan through the words, letting each letter sink into his brain. It’s possible of course, for Seonghyeon to just have thought of a random situation, something he observes but doesn’t really know.

But it’s clear, Seonghyeon has an inclination for the personal. He writes about things he’s felt, things he’s found written across each corner of his skin. The experiences you can’t scrub off, the things you’ve gone through on your own.

If that’s so, then who is this about?

A ping echoes through Keonho’s room, phone lighting up on his table.

anton: did you check gc?

keonho: ?
keonho: no
keonho: why

anton: coach is crazy
anton: training moved from 5 pm to 4 pm

Keonho’s eyes widen, frantically searching for anything that could indicate the current time. He looks over at his laptop, focusing on the numbers.

3:51 PM

“Fuck!”

—

“You had quite the luck today.” Anton says, voice dripping with some sort of bland humor, He brings up his towel to dry his hair, and Keonho can only look up to the ceiling in exhaustion.

The ceiling is far away, lines of steel taunting Keonho. The floor is slippery, a thin layer of water resting upon the pristine white of the tiles. Keonho’s hair still drips, the water pooling where he stands.

Anton got out of the water before him, along with the rest of their teammates. Keonho, as amazingly lucky as he was, had to do an extra 200 meters for butterfly. Because out of all of the people that were late, he was the last one to arrive, barely tailing their coach when he was about to enter.

And for all of his luck, his coach was apparently having what you could call an absolute shitshow of a day. So naturally, his coach basically tied his ankles down to the bottom of the pool.

Everyone has already left, dry and in peace. Keonho? He’s left to go home alone.

“Do you want to get pushed into the pool again?” Keonho asks, head rolling limply, voice more drained than irritated.

“Nope.” Anton moves to pat Keonho on the shoulder as he gives him an apologetic smile.

After a few minutes of trying to drag himself through the bathroom area to change, Keonho’s shadows follow him around as only a light or two shine down on him. The pool area’s about to close, darkness flowing through the space. The only other sign of life in the area is the light coming from inside the coaches’ office, making Keonho sigh.

He picks up his phone, mentally calculating how many hours he’s spent in the water. Under the bright numbers that show the passing of time (7:13 PM), a familiar name pops up.

hyeon: ramen night?
hyeon: also there was a coffee stand at the seminar. i got some for you

keon: yes. ramen pls
keon: i’ll pick you up at the auditorium

Keonho walks past the coaches’ office, eyes attached to the brightness of his phone. He wonders if it was cold outside, or if the sky had stars scattered around it. He wonders just how long ago the seminar ended, or how red Seonghyeon’s cheeks might be from the wind. He doesn’t flinch as his shoulder touches the cold metal of the door, pushing it open.

“Who said I needed to be picked up?”

Keonho’s head snaps at the familiar voice, looking towards the stoop leading up to the pool entrance. Seonghyeon’s sat down, jacket wrapped fully around him, with a cup of iced coffee in his hand.

Seonghyeon’s cheeks are just as red as Keonho thought they’d be.

“What are you doing here?” Keonho asks, a gentle mix of surprise and joy in his voice. Seonghyeon stands up and walks towards him, reaching his hand to offer him his iced coffee.

“Picking you up.” A small smile peeks through Seonghyeon’s lips. Keonho smiles back.

He takes the cup of coffee from his best friend’s hand, taking a sip of it. Vanilla Latte, like always.

Keonho watches as Seonghyeon rubs his hands together, catching glimpses of the blush over his palm. Without a word, Keonho reaches out, holding the back of Seonghyeon’s hand and flipping it over.

He touches Seonghyeon’s palm with his thumb, feeling the coldness of his skin.

“How long have you been holding this coffee?”

“Not too long. Just from our auditorium to here. You went out right as I sat down, so.” Seonghyeon answers, staring down at his hand before looking into Keonho’s eyes. His cheeks are still red.

“That building’s like, a thousand miles away.” Keonho answers, guiding Seonghyeon’s hand towards the boy’s jacket pocket.

“I honestly think you overexaggerate the distance between our buildings.” Seonghyeon says, slowly moving down the stairs, gesturing for Keonho to follow him.

“I think you underexaggerate it.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Yes it is.”

—-

Warm lights flicker above them, quiet chatters filling in the space.

They’re seated right by the window, the coolness of the park contrasting the silent warmth between them, beating with their hearts.

“Thank you.” Their voices wave in sync, as steam pours out of their ramen bowls. The waiter smiles at them.

“I’ve been craving ramen for so long.” Keonho says, before taking a whole serving of noodles in one bite.

“I know.” Seonghyeon says, sliding the tissue box towards Keonho. He picks up his own chopsticks, picking up a fish cake. He brings it over, setting it atop Keonho’s bowl. He wordlessly stirs his bowl and takes a bite of his noodles.

Keonho smiles at the gesture, gladly taking a bite of it. “Did I mention I liked fish cakes recently?”

“Yeah.” Seonghyeon said, taking a sip of water. “In James-hyung apartment. When we were gonna order ramen but Martin-hyung wanted kebab.”

Keonho paused before laughing at the memory. A fight that would be talked about for centuries.

—-

Their footsteps fall into sync as the outside chill welcomes them.

Keonho moves over the sling of his duffle bag to his other side, making space for Seonghyeon on his left. The streetlights buzz above them, trees shedding their leaves with no shame.

The river beside them rushes quietly, the sound of its current serving as white noise against the hum of Keonho’s voice.

“Was the seminar boring or was it actually useful?”

“For the first time in my life, I can say I actually enjoyed a required seminar.” Seonghyeon says, amusement raising in his voice. “Our guest speaker was freaking Woozi, dude. There was no way in hell I wouldn’t listen to a legend.”

Keonho smiles at the sudden acceleration of Seonghyeon’s words, never one to ignore when his best friend shares pieces of himself with enthusiasm.

Keonho’s shoulder brushes against Seonghyeon’s when he’s recovered from his laughter, fingers twitching to reach out and hold. The lights illuminate the warmth in Seonghyeon’s cheeks.

Seonghyeon, known to be a man of little words, finds that he cannot quite be that, not when he’s in the presence of his best friend.

“Ow, shit.” Keonho’s whisper sounds in Seonghyeon’s ears.

Seonghyeon looks towards Keonho, concern furrowing his eyebrows. Keonho’s hand is on the back of his shoulder, hands squeezing his muscles. His eyes close in a grimace, steps faltering.

“What? Are you okay?” Seonghyeon says, hands lifting as if wanting to touch. Keonho glances towards him and drops his arm, trying his best to compose himself. There’s no need to make Seonghyeon worry.

“I’m fine. Just a little sore.”

Keonho tries to ignore the squint in Seonghyeon’s eyes.

Seonghyeon reaches over and lightly presses against the back of Keonho’s shoulder. He watches as Keonho yelps, catching glances around the riverside.

“Ow?! Dude!” Keonho stops walking entirely, clutching over his shoulder.

“Just a little sore, my ass.” Seonghyeon pulls Keonho aside for a moment, making sure not to block the road.

He gently guides Keonho’s hand away, replacing it with his own. He rests its weight against Keonho’s shoulder, gently feeling around. Seonghyeon catches Keonho’s expression and gently pushes down, massaging the sore muscles.

“You said you were late earlier. You didn’t warm up, did you?” Seonghyeon asks, trying to chase the direction of Keonho’s eyes. Keonho lifts his head, lips pursing in a sorry expression. “You’re the one in sports science and you’re telling me you didn’t warm up before training?”

“Well.” Keonho shrinks under Seonghyeon’s gaze. “I’m sorry! Coach was looking at me like he was about to drown me today.”

Seonghyeon only shakes his head, moving to put his bag to the front and open it. Keonho deflates even more at the lost of warmth.

After a second of searching, Seonghyeon pulls out a strip of muscle pain relief. Keonho watches as he pulls out the back cover, gesturing to him to turn around. Keonho sighs as he feels the coolness of it seep into his muscles.

“Let’s hurry up so you can rest.” Keonho turns around, watching as Seonghyeon looks for something else in his bag, putting everything back into place. Keonho stares at him, the wind tangling itself into Seonghyeon’s hair.

He looks at him. Really looks. Keonho wonders if he’s imagining the sparkles in his hair, or if it was just the stars reflecting themselves against Seonghyeon’s beauty.

In a moment, something flashes between Keonho’s memories. Words that tangle into a beautiful melody. A memory of a voice, a sound that Keonho could recognize from miles away.

Keonho freezes in place. The words show up in his vision, arranged in deliberate lines. It seems the river’s current pauses, Keonho’s world quieting in question. Silent recognition slowly grows into confusion.

Seonghyeon’s eyes are on him, head tilting in that adorable way that’s impossible to ignore. Confusion also makes its way through his expression. Keonho snaps himself back at the sound of Seonghyeon’s voice.

“I’m dropping you off at your unit.” Seonghyeon says with zero room for argument.

“What? I’ll drop you off. My floor’s higher than yours.” Keonho makes room for it anyway.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“You’re sore and you’re zoning out on me. You’re tired. No, you’re not dropping me off.” Seonghyeon says, almost emphasizing each and every one of his words.

“I am not that tired. I can still walk.”

Seonghyeon pauses for a second, staring into space, almost as if he was considering it.

“No.”

Seonghyeon walks ahead, Keonho laughing behind him. The river’s currents sound again, and the moon continues its orbit.

—-

The world is muffled.

The mic hangs before Keonho, music stand staring back at him with papers covered in Martin’s scribbles. A voice comes in through his headphones.

“That was a good run. But we’d have to turn your voice all the way down to zero.” Seonghyeon says, smirk seeping into the so-called serious tone in his words.

Keonho laughs at the comment, own voice audible through his earphones.

“Hey, can we get a different audio engineer on here?” Keonho says, voice plastered with that teasing tone of his. “This one’s an asshole.”

“Deal with it.”

“Alright, shut up, both of you.” Martin says, a laugh ringing through him as well. “Let’s try one last time for the first verse, Keon. Make sure to change notes in the second to the last line.”

“Copy that, sir.”

“Suck-up.” Seonghyeon continues the banter.

“Jackass.”

The two are giggling as they go on, Juhoon laughing as he leans his arms on the studio desk beside Martin. James shakes his head from behind Seonghyeon.

As James walks over to Martin to go over the recording, Seonghyeon continues to make faces, pulling his tongue out at Keonho. Keonho scrunches his nose at him, putting his hand against his lips, just to blow a kiss.

Seonghyeon’s eyes widen, before squinting again. He stares at Keonho for a good second, before holding his hand up. He closes his palm as if he were to catch the kiss. Then, he opens his mouth, eating it.

Keonho tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing in amusement. Seonghyeon holds his fist in front of his mouth, blowing on it like he would for a magic trick.

And, voilà. Seonghyeon’s middle finger.

Keonho can’t help the laugh that escapes his mouth, the microphone amplifying his huff of breath. Juhoon tilts his head, watching as Keonho pulls out his phone, camera glimmering as he takes a photo of his best friend through the glass barrier.

Juhoon smiles to himself, grabbing his own phone to snap a photo from his view. The camera captures it from a wide angle, Seonghyeon’s middle finger showing, with his tongue out, and Keonho on the other side, gazing at him through his phone camera like Seonghyeon would write all his songs about him.

Before Keonho could flip Seonghyeon off, Martin’s voice echoes through the talkback. “Let’s start.”

They do start, Keonho’s voice echoing through the studio, beyond the glass. As his eyes close, and as his voice breezes through the notes, Keonho can’t help but feel a lingering gaze, stuck on his skin.

He opens his eyes, making no extra moves. His eyes land exactly upon Seonghyeon’s, words flowing through, almost like a whisper, almost like it was all meant for him.

“Okay! That’s good. Thanks, Keon-ah.” Martin’s voice rings through Keonho’s headphones, a smile growing on his lips.

Right as Keonho exits the booth, Seonghyeon plops down on the couch behind the studio desk, head lolling against the back of the couch. Keonho moves to sit down beside him, arm behind Seonghyeon’s head.

“Did hearing my voice exhaust you that much?” Keonho jokes, watching as Seonghyeon grumbles beneath his breath. The (slightly) older boy closes his eyes and sits still for a moment. Keonho only stares at him, pushing himself closer by just an inconspicuous inch at an attempt to make him feel even a slight bit more comfortable.

Seonghyeon says no words, only shifting closer. He moves, by a far more conspicuous inch, leaning his head against Keonho’s shoulder.

Seonghyeon doesn’t notice the way Keonho basically freezes in place, muscles stiffening at the contact. If he did notice, he didn’t say a word.

Almost unconsciously, Keonho holds his breath. The world tilts on its axis as he feels a wave of familiarity crash over him. He remembers the last time Seonghyeon rested his head upon his shoulder, and his eyebrows furrow in worry.

Keonho moves his hand, silently praying before resting it against Seonghyeon’s forehead. He sighs in relief at the warmth that brushes against his skin. Not too hot, not too cold. A perfectly normal temperature.

“I’m not sick.” Seonghyeon mumbles, eyes still closed.

“Just had to check.” Keonho responds as gently as he could. Seonghyeon only hums in response.

As the time passes by, Seonghyeon’s light snores echo around the room, tiny mumbles of gibberish spilling through. Martin looks back at the pair, smiling at the stillness of Keonho’s body.

“He’s been chasing deadlines recently.” Martin gestures towards Seonghyeon. “I guess he’s trying to take back the sleep he’s lost.”

Keonho frowns, feeling the heaviness of Seonghyeon’s head against his shoulder. Keonho imagines it, the nights Seonghyeon’s spent up, the reels that show up on Keonho’s notification center at three in the morning, and another one at six in the morning.

Keonho looks down on the floor before lifting his head up to look at Martin. He wordlessly points at the back of a chair beside Martin, gesturing for him to lightly place it against his lap. As it lands there, he unfolds it with one hand, gently moving to wrap Seonghyeon in Keonho’s jacket.

Keonho lets his head relax as well, eyes closing in the midst of the cool breeze of the air conditioning. His head tilts, moving over to rest upon Seonghyeon’s.

He barely registers the sound of Juhoon’s camera shutter, echoing through the room. Keonho’s senses fade in and out, warmth sinking deep into his heart.

Somewhere, in the scary depths of Keonho’s mind, he thinks. Maybe, just maybe. He could get used to this.

—-

It’s like a pest.

It keeps bugging Keonho, mind falling back to it, no matter how far he tries to run away from it.

The song keeps looping in his head, the drum beat syncing with his heart. He sinks deeper into his chair, wondering if he’ll ever make sense of any of it.

He snaps himself back up, pulling his chair closer to his desk. He goes back to his and Seonghyeon’s messages, clicking the link over again. He clicks on the lyrics, reading through every single word.

It’s all just a coincidence, right? The way the words sync in with Seonghyeon’s actions, the way the river’s current seemed to taunt Keonho the entire walk by the riverside. Or the way that entire night embedded itself into Keonho’s mind.

All a coincidence. Right?

Keonho tries his best to snap himself back to reality. Why is he doing this anyway?

A memory of yesterday flashes in his mind, Seonghyeon’s head on his shoulder, his warmth against Keonho’s skin.

Keonho feels a rush pushing against his chest, face scrunching up in frustration.

Keonho lets out a groan, head throwing back to stare at the blankness of his ceiling. He huffs, heavy and loud, almost scaring away the birds from outside his apartment.

He snaps back once more, moving over the trackpad, forcing himself to exit the page before he officially loses his mind in whatever the hell kind of situation he’s dropped his heart into.

As his fingers slide against the trackpad, an arrow shows up, pointing to the left of the screen. Keonho barely catches it, only noticing when it’s too late.

The screen loads in front of him, going back to the front page of the main folder. The familiar title of From E, For A. Except, the screen shows up with a new element.

notes of you (Draft)

It’s a new folder, a new title. A new song.

The silence in Keonho’s apartment grows. No kind of white noise could make him ignore the rush of his own blood under his skin, the possibilities within this folder, knocking against his skull.

He doesn’t know what it is. Fear? What for? Fear that he’d have to face his feelings once confronted with the truth?

Or maybe, fear that he’s been wrong all this time?

Keonho is only one man. He is no better than the curiosity building up in his throat.

He sucks in a deep breath, pressing on the new folder. It’s only two documents this time, still glaringly bright against his eyes.

notes of you lyrics.docx
notes of you video recording.mp4

Hesitantly, his mouse hovers over the video, the thumbnail taunting him. He gives in and clicks on it. The video automatically plays, not helping the lump stuck in Keonho’s throat.

The location’s different, and so are the equipment. Instead of the familiar reflection against glass barriers, the video shows a clean and straightforward image, only Seonghyeon’s bedroom microphone, and a guitar steady in his hands.

The room is familiar, floors that Keonho has laid upon. Walls covered in posters that Keonho’s memorized the hues of. It almost feels like Seonghyeon’s sitting right in front of him, a fragment of some sort of subconscious desire. To reach out, to hold.

Keonho listens to the strings of the guitar, short riffs following one after another, almost as if the instrument is singing, too.

As the intro dies down, Seonghyeon’s voice walks Keonho through the song.

Keonho’s breath hitches, not even a minute in.

The words go through Keonho’s ears, and it stays. It sinks, deep into his chest cavity, down to the chambers of his heart.

Memories of the studio comes back to Keonho, moments of laughter, eye rolls, and middle fingers. Moments of camera shutters, feedback, and air kisses. Keonho almost chokes.

Seonghyeon’s eyes are closed again, a slight echo catching onto the microphone. Keonho takes a deep breath again. The words in the back of his head are pushing themselves to the front.

He’s so damn pretty.

The chorus rings itself back for another time and Keonho can only freeze in place, staring at the photobooth pictures stuck haphazardly on his own wall. Pictures of him and his friends, a photobooth of only him and Seonghyeon.

He takes a deep breath in, brain hovering over the puzzle pieces he’s collected.

His hand lingers on them, the edges aligning, fitting right into each other. And yet, he hesitates, he lingers, afraid to lock them in place.

Keonho moves, mouse clicking through the screen, opening the lyrics document. He stares at it, a familiar white searing through his eyes.

As every word presses its shape into Keonho’s eyes, the beating underneath Keonho’s chest grows, its volume reaching its peak. It’s like Seonghyeon’s right there, playing with the beat, forcing the tempo of Keonho’s heart to reach impossible speeds.

There, right in front of him, sits the answers to Keonho’s questions. He realizes how blaringly obvious it is.

The words in front of him, and the lyrics that flow through Seonghyeon’s voice could only be a reflection of someone he’s known for so long.

It was like looking in a mirror, the words shaping themselves into Keonho’s figure.

The clock ticks, and his breathing settles. The moon taunts him once more.

—

“Ah!”

Seonghyeon looks back at Keonho, watching as his hand sways, spilling soju over the floor. Seonghyeon laughs, shaking his head.

“I told you I’d do it,” Seonghyeon says, grabbing the bottle from Keonho’s hands.

“But you’ve been doing it since earlier! Let me do it too,” Keonho’s lips grow into a pout, hands folding atop his lap.

It’s somewhat of a tradition. Sort of? In Keonho’s words, it’s an irregular tradition.

Every few months or so, Seonghyeon and Keonho stay over at one of their places and drink. It’s some sort of an excuse to get over the barriers between their friendship, a result of the inherent awkwardness embedded into each of their personalities.

They figured the uhm’s and ahh’s would naturally let themselves go under the quiet haze of alcohol. And maybe then, the I don’t know’s and I’m not sure’s would be buried underneath the restlessness of their intoxicated minds.

“This should be your last shot, Keon-ah. I can't have you whining about a hangover to me tomorrow. Not again.” Seonghyeon says, handing the shot glass over to Keonho’s hand. Keonho makes a noise of indignation.

“When have I ever done that?”

Seonghyeon stares at him, a look that says really? showing on his face. Keonho only squints at him.

He raises his shot glass, gesturing for Seonghyeon to cheer with it. Seonghyeon rolls his eyes in return, clinking his glass with Keonho’s.

The universe pauses for a moment, making way for the alcohol to stream through their throats. The air conditioning’s hums quiet down, and Seonghyeon’s ears muffle.

Keonho’s eyes are locked onto Seonghyeon’s, head tilting as he downs the shot in one go. The glass stays glued on Seonghyeon’s lips, pausing as he feels his face warm up once more.

Keonho finally brings his eyes away from Seonghyeon’s, looking down as he sets his shot glass down on the floor with a thud.

Seonghyeon squeezes his eyes shut, downing the shot quicker than he could even taste the bitterness. Quicker than he could even think about how much he wants to crash his lips onto Keonho’s.

As he puts the glass down, Keonho stands up so suddenly, stumbling on his own footing. Seonghyeon reaches his hands out, as if catching him would do anything to avoid spillage over his floors.

Keonho finds himself steady, and steps over the glasses and bottles scattered across the floor. He lands himself upon the space beside Seonghyeon, head leaning heavily against the mattress behind him.

Keonho shifts his head, eyes focused on Seonghyeon’s side profile. Seonghyeon bites at the skin on his lips, far too aware of Keonho’s gaze on him. He lifts a glass up to his lips, cola doing little to wash down the nervousness in his throat.

“Hyeon-ah…” Keonho’s voice rings through Seonghyeon’s ears, the softness of his tone sending shivers through his spine. He swallows down before he speaks.

“Yeah?” Seonghyeon shifts his head, eyes knowing exactly where it wants to go. Keonho’s eyes are lidded, cheeks red from the alcohol.

He can't look at him for too long. Seonghyeon’s eyes shift to the floor.

“Do you think you’d ever write a song about me?”

Seonghyeon stiffens, his eyes widening slightly before making a miserable attempt at pulling at the strings and tying his dignity back together.

He looks at Keonho once more, trying to ignore the images of scribbles on paper and toplines that keep waving themselves like flags in his head.

Of course you would. You’d write a billion songs about him if you could. Wouldn't you, Seonghyeon?

Seonghyeon walks past the flags, trying to convince himself that the blaring is easy to ignore.

“I could.” Breathe in and breathe out. Act normal. Keonho’s too drunk to notice anything, anyway. “What would you want me to write about anyway? You’re not all that interesting.”

Great, mask it like you always do.

“Hm.” Keonho ignores Seonghyeon’s last statement. He looks up, thinking. “Maybe… about how handsome I am?”

Keonho looks at Seonghyeon, teeth showing in a childish smile. Seonghyeon can't help but laugh, ease slowly pushing away the heaviness crushing his shoulders.

“Is that all that matters to you?”

“No.” Keonho’s pout makes its way to the stage once more. “I’d also like it if you’d write about how nice I am. Or, how warm my hugs are. Or how much you love me.”

Seonghyeon can feel his lungs stutter. He takes a short breath, unsure how to keep his mind in tow. Has Keonho caught on?

He takes a glance, looking straight into Keonho’s eyes.

“Wow. Do you think I love you that much?” A strained laugh falls from Seonghyeon’s lips, and he grimaces at himself. Keonho doesn't notice.

Seonghyeon can't tell if Keonho’s aware of what he’s doing, but it's all Seonghyeon can see. Keonho crowding his space, moving closer, only a breath’s width away.

Keonho’s voice is low and raspy. Like something’s scratching at his throat. Something that wants itself to be known. A statement of conviction, a question of reassurance.

“Don't you?” Keonho’s voice rings through Seonghyeon’s ears, soundwaves vibrating through his skull. Seonghyeon almost bolts right then and there.

“Maybe.” Is all that Seonghyeon’s tongue could conjure up. It's all he can do, when Keonho’s eyes flick back from his eyes, down to his lips.

“Don't forget me when you're famous. You write too many good songs not to be.” Keonho’s voice rings once more, an excuse to unfocus Seonghyeon’s eyes from his best friend.

“I’d be stupid to forget you.” Seonghyeon doesn't really know why those words came out of his mouth. He mentally curses himself for saying something so risky, something that can't be taken back, something that was underlined with a part of him that felt a little too true.

As Seonghyeon’s brain struggles to catch a grip on his heart, said heart whooshes and gets caught in his throat.

Keonho’s close. Unbearably close. His eyes are lidded, body shifting to cage Seonghyeon in. Keonho’s right hand lands on the floor, right next to Seonghyeon’s hip, and Seonghyeon feels like his breath is held hostage in his throat.

The world slows down, awfully aware of the shakiness of Seonghyeon’s nerves. The silence is caving in on him, the sight of Keonho, so close, so beautiful, so tempting. He tries to push his back further against the side of his bed, trying to do what he does worst.

Restrain.

“You’re so pretty, Hyeonie.”

Seonghyeon, known to be a man of little words, finds that being in this position makes it a thousand times more difficult to say much in the presence of his best friend.

Evidence to note: the choked noise Seonghyeon let out of his throat.

Seonghyeon watches as Keonho slowly closes his eyes, breath lingering against Seonghyeon’s lips. Seonghyeon can only see the curl of Keonho’s eyelashes, the shape of his eyebrows, and the curve of his nose.

He definitely can't see the blush on his cheeks or the pinkness of his lips. No, no. Definitely not.

Seonghyeon definitely doesn't argue with his own thoughts, no. He definitely doesn't go against his own promises to himself. He definitely doesn't close his eyes and move closer, no.

No. Why would he? What right does he have?

A gag breaks through the silence.

Seonghyeon feels a warmth against his shoulder, weight heavy as Keonho rubs his forehead against his shirt.

Seonghyeon opens his eyes, watching as Keonho moves his other arm, wrapping it around his neck. Keonho’s body is basically sprawled across Seonghyeon’s at this point, weight fully against him.

Keonho shifts his head, moving himself up. His hair pushes against Seonghyeon’s neck, and he looks up.

Voice rough and low, he whispers.

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

Seonghyeon immediately shifts, lifting him up before disaster strikes.

“In my room?! Like hell you are!”

—

I’m sorry for messing up your bathroom :( Forgive me?

Seonghyeon stares at the card, a familiar chicken scrawl strewn across off-white paper.

He can feel a presence lingering beside him. Two, actually. Two very nosy presences.

“Damn. Was it that bad?” Martin’s voice rings through, teeth chewing on a french fry.

“He got puke over my shower curtain. And my towel,” Seonghyeon’s nose scrunches up at the memory. “It still smells like lemon soju in there.”

James somehow makes his grimace audible, face also scrunching up in disgust. “I get why you're mad at him.”

Seonghyeon sighs, lifting up the clear tote bag, a cup of his signature Oakberry acai bowl order inside, right next to a stupid-looking alien ball. It’s dark purple, with one eye wide open, looking like it’s just seen the most baffling thing in its life. It has a tiny white beanie on its head, somehow making it a slight bit cuter.

It reminds Seonghyeon of Keonho, honestly.

The bag also consisted of gummies, chocolates, and candies. All of Seonghyeon’s favorites. Something aches in Seonghyeon’s chest, the awareness of being known crushing him deep within.

“I wasn't even mad at him for it.”

James and Martin take a glance at one another, and back to Seonghyeon’s slouching figure. A heaviness weighs above them, like a cloud merely waiting for Martin and James to move over, just so it can crash rain against Seonghyeon’s gloomy presence.

“He hasn't talked to you since then?”

It’s only been two days since their irregular tradition. It’s only been two days since Seonghyeon almost lost his dignity, almost lost his control.

Only? Those only two days were like hell to Seonghyeon. Only two days of not being able to hear Keonho’s voice. Only two days of not being able to see his best friend.

Keonho didn't even give the apology gift himself. He had to ask James to hand it to him.

The last conversation they had was through text, Keonho’s silly, smiling contact photo, taunting Seonghyeon.

keonho: had to go early. thank you sm for last night :p
keonho: and i’m sorry for the trouble :(

It’s not either of their faults, no. Keonho’s busy. Seonghyeon is too, honestly. So why is Seonghyeon so bothered?

Something scratches at Seonghyeon’s being, from inside out. It scratches at his throat, at his lungs. Even at his heart.

He tries to ignore it, desperately keeping himself away from the feelings he knows would bring him further from reality. The feelings he’s acknowledged, he’s known. But the feelings he won't allow to get to his head.

Seonghyeon has always kept control of his own footing. He’s always been able to keep himself tied to the ground, tension strong enough to keep him upright.

He will not let his stupid feelings cut through the rope. He will not let himself float into the abyss of his own feelings. Absolutely not.

“We’ve messaged.” Simple answer. Not much room for anything.

Before Martin or James could say much, Seonghyeon shifts, taking the acai bowl and spoon out from the bag. He opens the cup and wastes no time taking a bite out of it.

The flavor melts on his tongue, sweetness sinking in his blood. He lets the taste sink into his memory, eyes closing in exhaustion.

Time passes by. Quicker than anything Seonghyeon has ever cared to notice. As the sun settles down, Seonghyeon finds himself to be alone once more.

Martin and James have manners, so they cleaned up after themselves, putting back all the equipment they used for their production session.

Against the image of the spotless living room, the purple ball sticks out like a sweet sore thumb. Seonghyeon sighs as he picks it up, feeling the softness against his skin. He stares at the tiny beanie it has on its head, reminiscent of the one his own best friend overuses.

He looks at it carefully, eyes boring a hole at the shape of it.

Something’s pushing against the beanie’s natural shape.

Seonghyeon’s eyebrows furrow, fingers brushing against the bump. His fingers are careful as he takes the beanie off the ball, staring at the contents of it.

A small rectangular object rests against Seonghyeon’s hand. It’s a USB. It’s a regular old USB, quiet and unassuming.

What the hell is Keonho up to?

Seonghyeon moves quickly, dashing towards the kitchen to grab the laptop he left atop his counters.

He sits down on his couch, the USB plugged in as soon as the laptop turned unlocked.

From A, For E

Seonghyeon’s heartbeat rings in his own ears, the rhythm quicker than the Earth’s spin. His awareness comes to, staring at what could only seem like a coincidence on paper, but is as intentional as each and every one of Seonghyeon’s lyrics.

Seonghyeon stares at the folder, the contents staring back at him. The folder has two files in it.

certainty lyrics.docx
certainty video recording.mp4

The mouse hovers over the video, hitching as if it was Seonghyeon’s own breath. He clicks on it.

It’s Keonho’s room. The interior reflects against Seonghyeon’s eyes, familiarity searing into his skin. Seonghyeon can see the keyboard in front of Keonho, the texture familiar to his skin.

He can see Keonho’s cabinet in the back, and a sliver of his stuff peeking into the frame. Seonghyeon chuckles to himself, the image of Keonho shoving his stuff out of frame bringing a smile on his face.

Seonghyeon watches intently as Keonho takes a deep breath in.

“Okay. Hi, Hyeon. It’s me, Keonho.” Keonho’s eyes dart around, eyes unfocusing beyond the camera. “I mean, yeah. Of course, you know it’s me, you can see my face.”

Seeonghyoen rolls his eyes, a smile forming on his face.

“You know I’m not good with words. But I’m trying. I want to try for you. Because I know you try for me too.”

Seonghyeon’s hands come up towards his face, teeth biting into his nails.

“This is Certainty.”

Keonho’s fingers press against the keys, a gentle melody flowing into Seonghyeon’s ears. It settles down, keys handing the tone over to Keonho’s voice.

Seonghyeon tries to keep his heart still. He’s uncertain. Is it safe to have his hopes so high up?

Seonghyeon’s heart syncs into the rhythm, hands shaking in the midst of the words going through his ear.

It was a song from Keonho. Only for him to hear. Only for Seonghyeon to hear.

He clicks. The white background of the word document lasers into Seonghyeon’s eyes, the words embedding themselves into the wounds against his lips. He bites into the skin of his own lips, light reflecting against the gloss in his eyes.

It’s only then, Seonghyeon’s feelings drag themselves off of his own shoulders. His heart beats faster, not in heaviness but rather, the opposite. The weight off of his heart makes it dart around his chest, lightness seeping through his bones.

Abruptly, Seonghyeon stands up, hand resting against his chest. He shakes his limbs, trying to snap himself back together. He covers his face in his hands.

“God, fuck this.” He darts, footsteps as light as his heart.

—

The sun’s setting through the windows and Keonho’s laying down on his couch, laptop resting against his lap, serving its purpose. His mind is doing every single thing it could just to keep itself away from Seonghyeon.

Football videos, Britpop history, podcasts recommended by James-hyung, mukbangs, interviews, everything. Keonho’s Youtube feed could give him anything, and still, Seonghyeon’s glossy eyes, brown hair, and pink lips push themselves to the forefront of his mind.

Keonho places his laptop down, grabs a throw pillow, smushes it against his face, and screams.

Knock, knock, knock.

Keonho almost completely rolls over, seconds away from falling flat on his face. The knock seemed urgent, like the heart beating inside Keonho’s chest.

He walks over towards his door, hand resting against the handle. He looks into the peephole and tries not to stumble over his own feet at the sight of his best friend.

He doesn’t knock any more.

Keonho takes a deep breath in. He twists the doorknob and opens it.

Before Keonho can even utter a breath, a weight crashes against him, hands wrapping around his neck and pulling him tight against warmth.

He feels it before he understands it. Softness against his lips.

Keonho’s eyes widen, watching as Seonghyeon’s eyes are shut, lips sweet against his. If Keonho doesn’t take this chance and kiss into Seonghyeon’s soul, then whoever that is, it isn’t him.

Keonho’s eyes slowly shut, the world around them, nonexistent. It doesn’t only quiet down, it disappears. Only the touch of one another breaking through their awareness. Keonho’s hands press against Seonghyeon’s bare waist, shirt riding up as Seonghyeon moves closer and closer.

The space between them is nonexistent, Keonho’s arms moving to wrap themselves fully around Seonghyeon’s waist.

Seonghyeon’s moving forward, legs tangling into Keonho’s, feet stumbling against one another. With no more space left to walk behind, Keonho’s back falls against his couch, arms unwilling to separate, causing Seonghyeon to follow right after.

Seonghyeon shifts, knees resting against his sides. Seonghyeon’s straddling Keonho’s waist. Keonho almost chokes at the sight.

Seonghyeon doesn’t give Keonho any time to catch his breath. He leans down, one hand resting against his best friend’s cheek, while his other elbow supports his own weight. He crashes his lips against Keonho’s once more, and kisses.

He kisses, kisses, and kisses, love flowing out of him. The cage is unlocked, and the world stops just for them. Seonghyeon doesn’t care about anything else, no. He just wants Keonho.

Keonho gives back the same energy, kissing him fervently with no question. Until, Seonghyeon’s tongue swipes against Keonho’s lip, and Keonho chokes out a whimper.

Seonghyeon continues, and Keonho accepts it wholeheartedly. There isn’t any other place he’d rather be at this moment.

Keonho sighs into Seonghyeon’s mouth and Seonghyeon decides to show him some mercy. A break for Keonho’s overworking heart.

They break apart, and Keonho just can’t keep his stupid smile off his lips. Seonghyeon’s furrowed eyebrows soften, lips unable to stop himself from mimicking his best friend’s smile.

“Well, hello to you too.” Keonho says, breathless. His lips are red, and his hair’s unkempt.

“Shut up, you dick.” The grin on Seonghyeon’s face seeps its way into his voice. Keonho keeps cheesing like a damn idiot.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Keonho moves up, leaving another kiss against Seonghyeon’s lips. This time, it’s soft, gentle, and sweet. The contrast of their personalities, the juxtaposition of their relationship, all mixing into one.

They both smile into the kiss.

“How’d you know I was home?” Keonho asks, moving to rest his back comfortably against the armrest. He adjusts Seonghyeon’s position to keep him near, legs still straddling his waist.

“I know your schedule.” Seonghyeon answers. “And even if you weren’t here, I would’ve ran to the pool just to get to you.”

Keonho smiles at him. “Would you?”

Seonghyeon rolls his eyes. “What the hell is up with you?”

Keonho laughs in response. “I don’t know. I’m just so in love with you.”

Seonghyeon’s face softens immediately, but his eyebrows still furrow slightly. The words slipped out so easily out of Keonho’s mouth, and Seonghyeon’s heart doesn’t know how to handle it.

So, Seonghyeon responds with the way he usually knows how to.

“Straightforward, aren’t you?” Seonghyeon licks his own lips, nerves breaking through him.

“Yeah.” Keonho’s demeanor is calm, stable. Contrast. “It’s just that for once, I don’t feel like I’m uncertain.”

Those words shine against Seonghyeon’s irises, and his lips tremble against his will.

Fuck. He knows how to get me every time.

Seonghyeon leans forward and leaves another kiss against Keonho’s lips. His lips are right against Keonho’s, sweet and soft. His whisper rings against Keonho’s ears.

“You have no idea how much I love you.”

“I think I do.”

—-

“I feel so fucking stupid.” Seonghyeon’s voice rings around the living room, Keonho’s laugh following after.

“You’re not stupid, Hyeon-ah.”

“I sent you the wrong link. And not just any wrong link. It was the wrong-est link I could’ve ever sent.” Seonghyeon rambles on with no care for the world. Keonho listens with a smile. “How the fuck do you accidentally send love songs you secretly made, to the person in question? That’s so fucking stupid.”

“Well, it turned out well in the end, didn’t it?” Keonho pulls Seonghyeon closer to his chest, moving his lips closer to Seonghyeon’s. Before he can do so, he stops.

It hasn’t been three hours since Seonghyeon’s been made aware of Keonho’s feelings. As obvious as their unbearable love, they’re both still as awkward as they could be.

Would it be too much to ask for another kiss?

Before Keonho could even think twice about it, Seonghyeon’s lips land upon his. He knows it now. The sweetness, the softness. The warmth.

“Don’t overthink it.” Seonghyeon says the words with his lips still against Keonho’s. He can feel Seonghyeon’s voice echoing over his skin, and Keonho almost loses his mind.

“Yeah.” Keonho leans in, kissing Seonghyeon without any doubts. With certainty.

After a minute, Seonghyeon lets go and lifts himself up slightly, looking at Keonho.

“Wait, so when’s your APS quiz?”

Keonho’s eyes are still glued to Seonghyeon’s lips.

“Thursday.” Keonho plants another kiss on Seonghyeon’s lips. Seonghyeon melts against his lips. He pulls away again. Keonho pouts.

“So, it’s tomorrow?”

Seonghyeon watches as Keonho’s pout transforms into a look of realization. A look of that truly needs no words to understand.

“Fuck!”