Chapter Text
Macau, China
It’s a strange feeling to be in a foreign country for only three days. The lights are terrifically blinding, and the few food stalls they’ve passed by have a distinct set of spices in the air. It’s so blatantly not Korea, and yet they only get to watch the city from their cars or through the few seconds at the airport. It begins to feel more familiar though when they run through rehearsals the day before the concert.
And it feels more like practice when the rest of the day is left up to them, which at this point being on tour meant these times were reserved for rest.
There had been more energy earlier when the tour began, but now it looked a lot like this. James sleeping in the manager’s room for an actual moment of silence. Juhoon and Seonghyeon both reading in their rooms, and Keonho stuck with Martin, who still couldn’t seem to keep still.
His eyes drift toward the leader. His bleached hair is still wet from an earlier shower, but he has his headphones on regardless, keeping his eyes tightly shut as he bops his head to whatever beat he’s been making for the past hour.
“Boring,” Keonho mutters to himself.
It’s a bit rare to begin with that he and Martin are sharing a room. And he has no real problem with the boy, despite whatever nonsense their ‘fans’ seem to think, but normally, it’s him and Seonghyeon sharing rooms, especially during this tour. He thinks it's because they're probably the closest, and also maybe because the few times he wasn't roomed with him, their manager was subject to Keonho’s complaints for hours on end.
Safe to say he’d secured his roommate for the rest of the tour, but apparently for this hotel there had been some mix up with the reservations and their names, and since it was a short stay anyways, he hadn’t thought too much of it and was now with Martin.
“It’s only boring if you’re not doing anything.”
Oh, and he speaks.
Finally, Keonho thinks.
“You’ve had your headphones on for hours, let’s do something,” he throws a balled up napkin at him.
“I thought you were going to watch something,” Martin slips his headphones off.
“I don’t know what to watch,” he says.
“Your headass doesn’t know anything.”
“Piss off, Seonghyeon always picks the movie, I just don’t know what would be good,” he mutters.
Martin throws the same balled up napkin back at Keonho, “Oh yeah, how are you taking this?”
Keonho feels a faint touch on his face, the napkin’s now loosened and sitting on his lap, matching the decor of the emptied out take-out boxes and half-sipped drinks on the table. He’s about to throw it again, but he feels like he’s missing something because what does that mean?
“Taking what?”
The other boy only hums, “You know your little away time from Seonghyeon.”
Keonho blinks.
“Away time?”
Martin snorts, “Right, I forgot- I mean the fact that you’re not rooming with him this time.”
“Forgot what? And I’m fine, what do you mean?”
He still thinks Martin’s forgotten some important context, of course he was okay. It wasn’t the best, but it’s just one hotel where they’re not roommates together. He isn’t going to die from the fact that he wasn’t rooming with him.
“Nevermind then,” and just like that Martin puts his headphones back on.
The room feels oddly quiet for the rest of the night, and when he realizes that Seonghyeon’s not going to text him back with a movie recommendation, he decides that sleeping earlier isn’t that bad of an idea. He sends one more glance at Martin, his eyes are closed once again, before deciding it’s nothing too important and buries himself in his sheets
_______________
It’s 7 AM when he gets up. His body still feels like it's getting used to the jet lag, but it’s the day of their concert too, and sometimes waking up a bit earlier helps him calm down. They have plenty of time till they have to do one more run through of the concert, so Keonho isn’t surprised to see Martin still sleeping.
The boy probably slept late anyways, so he figures that he’ll get breakfast by himself today.
There’s a separate room for where CORTIS and their staff eat, just to avoid any bizarre interactions with fans and anything of that sort. It’s still empty though, so he takes his time to leisurely grab a plate and monitor what to get.
There are pastries, fruits, coffee, juices, and he feels a sense of deja vu from yesterday.
What to eat, he thinks.
“Get some carbs,” a smooth voice comes in on his right side.
And with a practiced ease, the boy takes his plate from him and adds a few of the strawberry danishes onto his plate before moving to grab the berries on the other side.
He feels the corners of his mouth lifting up, ”Seonghyeon, good morning.”
He barely nods back. He’s wearing his sweatpants from last night, and a thin black long sleeve, that’s obviously not warm enough.
Watching him slowly move across the breakfast buffet, Keonho drifts over to him, before grabbing his waist and tucking his face into the older boy’s neck, “What else are you getting?”
He feels Seonghyeon stiffen for a second, before he continues to walk over to grab an empty cup, “Orange juice.”
Keonho can smell the faint scent of mint toothpaste, and he also notices how alarmingly cold the other boy is.
“You need to start wearing thicker clothes, or else you’re going to catch a cold one of these days,” he mumbles into his neck.
Seonghyeon nods again, truly a rare sight to see at any other time of day, “I think I lost one of my hoodies at the Incheon concert.”
“Which one?”
“The grey one with navy hoodie strings,” his voice is still soft.
He moves toward the empty tables, with Keonho still holding on to him, “Anyways, you should start eating.”
“Right,” he hums, making no sign to move.
Seonghyeon laughs lightly, and Keonho takes it as a sign to squeeze him a bit tighter and press his face further into his neck.
“You never told me good morning back,” he whines.
“Morning,” Martin’s voice enters.
It’s silent.
He stares at the pair for a few seconds, “You two-”
Seonghyeon looks too sleep deprived, so the leader decides to save the comment for another time, “Want to make me a plate too?”
Keonho rolls his eyes, “That’s a best friend privilege.”
“Sure,” and Seonghyeon leaves instantly, leaving Keonho to bask in Martin’s stare.
They take a few seconds to shuffle at the table, and to be fair, the leader gives the youngest a moment to properly eat and finish his plate, before interrupting.
“You’re kind of a Seonghyeon-hollic, you know?”
He downs his juice in an instant, “What are you on about now?”
“What am I on about? Who backhugs their friend and tries to kiss them on the neck?”
“Kiss?”
Keonho’s voice feels alarmingly loud in the dead silent room, but Martin must be losing his mind, so he thinks a bit of volume might get him in check with reality.
“Where are you getting that from? I never-”
The leader laughs loudly, as if he was in on some inside joke between himself.
“You don’t have to pretend,” he says between laughs, “he’s all the way over there anyways, I doubt he’s going to hear you.”
“Pretending about what?”
“Oh come on, are we going to do this all day? You all over him at seven in the morning? What else could that be?”
“He was cold!”
“Right, and burrowing your face into his neck helps him warm up?”
“Yes, it does!”
Keonho tries to not think about how that sounds weak even to his own ears.
“You pouted for like two hours last night just because he didn’t reply to your text,” Martin adds with a heavier look.
A blueberry flings at Martin’s face, “We’re friends,” he rolls his eyes, “I’ve known him forever, it’s not that weird.”
“Sure, sure,” the other boy flicks the blueberry off his plate.
Finally.
Martin studies him for one more moment and his face settles into something more serious, “You have to know that you like him right?”
Keonho nearly chokes on the last sip of orange juice, but that doesn’t stop the other boy from speaking his mind, “I mean you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but the whole best friends label doesn’t really work when you seem to cling to Seonghyeon whenever he’s within a five meter radius of you.”
“Friends, Martin, friends, I swear-”
“Fine,” he lifts his hands up in mock surrender.
His eyes narrow, “You’re letting this go?”
“Yes, you're just friends, I got it.”
“We are,” Keonho thinks he’s finally gotten through to him.
"And room assignments don't matter."
"They don't," he reaffirms.
"So then you'll be perfectly fine hearing this."
Keonho's stomach sinks before Martin even speaks again.
"Our manager mentioned this morning that the reservation issue wasn't only at this hotel."
"...What?"
"There are a couple more hotels where you and Seonghyeon aren't sharing."
Keonho's brows knit together.
"There are?"
"Mhm, it's only a few nights here and there," Martin continues casually, stirring his coffee, "apparently they couldn't switch everything around after the booking mix-up."
"Oh."
"But," Martin says, looking up with a smile that immediately makes Keonho suspicious, "since you're just friends, I don't want to hear our manager getting another hour-long speech about how unfair the room assignments are."
"I wasn't—"
"You were."
"I complained once."
"You complained enough that he started apologizing before you even finished."
He looks away, "Maybe."
Martin smiles a little, though there's something almost expectant behind it now.
"Well," he says, setting his coffee down, "I'll make you a deal."
Keonho raises an eyebrow.
"I talked to our manager earlier. If the rooming situation actually matters that much to you," he shrugs lightly, "I can probably convince him to swap things around. It's a bit of a hassle, but he'd listen."
Keonho blinks.
Martin continues before he can answer.
"But only if you stop pretending this is just some random roommate preference."
Silence.
"You don't have to announce it to the group or anything," Martin says more quietly. "Just admit that you like being around him more than everyone else. That's all."
Keonho's eyes flick instinctively toward the buffet.
Seonghyeon is still standing a few tables away, completely unaware, carefully deciding between two kinds of yogurt as though it's the hardest decision he's made all morning.
For a split second, the offer hangs there.
Sharing a room with Seonghyeon again.
Falling asleep halfway through whatever movie Seonghyeon picked.
Waking up to the quiet rustling of pages whenever he decided to read before breakfast.
It would be so easy to say yes.
Instead, he scoffs, "What? No."
Martin sighs.
"We're talking about, what, sleeping in the same hotel room?"
"Exactly."
"We're friends," Keonho says again, more firmly this time, "I'll live."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"Because if you tell me now, I'll see what I can do."
Keonho shakes his head almost immediately, "Don't."
"You don't want me to ask?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because it's extra work for everyone over something that doesn't matter."
He hates how disappointed Martin seems to look before nodding, "Alright."
He doesn't sound convinced in the slightest.
"No complaints later."
"There won't be."
"No guilt-tripping the staff."
"I don't guilt-trip the staff."
Martin gives him a look.
"Often."
"Keonho."
"Fine, I won't say anything,” he runs a hand through his hair.
Before they can argue again, Seonghyeon returns carrying another plate balanced carefully in one hand.
"I got you the danishes," he says to Martin before setting it down. "They looked fresh."
"You're the best," Martin says warmly.
Seonghyeon smiles sleepily.
Keonho instinctively reaches over to straighten the sleeve that has bunched awkwardly around Seonghyeon's wrist before he can even think about it. The movement is quick and unconscious.
Neither of them says anything.
Seonghyeon only murmurs a quiet, "Thanks," before sitting beside him.
Across the table, Martin raises his coffee.
He doesn't say a single word, though Keonho can read the look on his face.
Just friends, huh?
_______________
The arena is already awake long before they ever step onto the stage.
Even through concrete walls and heavy curtains, the crowd finds them.
It begins as a low vibration beneath Keonho's shoes while they're finishing the last of their mic checks, the sound so deep it almost feels imagined, until someone opens the backstage curtain for a split second and the noise crashes in all at once. Thousands of voices blur into something indistinguishable, a language made entirely of anticipation.
Someone whistles, and Martin claps his hands together once.
"Five minutes."
The room immediately shifts.
The casual conversations disappear, replaced by practiced routines. In-ear monitors are adjusted. Jackets are smoothed. Water bottles are passed around one final time. Their stylists check microphones for what must be the tenth time, and the managers begin guiding them toward their starting positions backstage.
Keonho rolls his neck once, trying to loosen the tension sitting there.
Usually, this is the part where he gravitates toward Seonghyeon without really thinking about it.
It’s not on purpose, they always end up next to each other before concerts. Sometimes they review tiny choreography details. Sometimes Seonghyeon absentmindedly quizzes him on lyrics they both know perfectly well. More often than not, they don't even talk.
Today, Keonho stops himself.
He lingers a little farther back while James walks ahead with Martin, discussing something about the opening VCR timing. It isn't much—only a few extra steps of distance—but it feels strangely deliberate, like he's forcing himself to stand somewhere he normally wouldn't.
Martin's words have been annoyingly persistent all afternoon.
You have to know that you like him, right?
He'd already explained it.
They're friends.
Best friends.
People were allowed to hug their best friends. People were allowed to want to room with their best friends. People were allowed to miss them when they weren't around.
It didn't have to mean anything.
He exhales quietly.
Maybe Martin was just bored; leaders seemed to enjoy overanalyzing people.
That had to be it.
Someone brushes past his shoulder.
Juhoon.
The older boy slips naturally into place beside Seonghyeon, who has wandered over toward one of the equipment cases while flipping absentmindedly through the pages of a paperback novel he'd brought on tour.
Keonho hadn't even noticed he'd packed another one.
Juhoon says something, and Seonghyeon laughs.
Even from several feet away, Keonho can recognize the expression immediately.
His eyes disappear into crescents, and the corners of his mouth lift just enough to make the dimples near his cheeks appear.
Juhoon points toward the cover.
Seonghyeon shakes his head, smiling wider now, before taking the book back and saying something that makes the other boy groan dramatically.
Keonho can't hear any of it.
The crowd outside is too loud now.
He watches anyway.
Juhoon reaches over without thinking and rests a hand on Seonghyeon's shoulder while continuing whatever hopeless argument they're having.
Probably about books or one of the documentaries Seonghyeon somehow always convinced people to watch.
Keonho's fingers curl slightly around the hem of his jacket.
He loosens them a second later.
He isn't even sure why he'd tensed.
It's normal.
Most members tend to be affectionate towards Seonghyeon. James throws an arm around everyone. Martin practically tackles people after good performances. They're a group, a close one too.
That's all it is, and still he realizes they've been talking for longer than he expected.
Keonho looks away, immediately.
Then, without meaning to, he looks back.
Seonghyeon chooses that exact moment to glance over. Their eyes meet across backstage.
For just a second, the boy’s smile fades into something softer. His eyebrows knit together the slightest bit, as though he's trying to figure something out.
Keonho had barely spoken to him after breakfast.
He'd disappeared during rehearsal whenever breaks happened, even lunch had felt strangely different.
Seonghyeon's head tilts ever so slightly.
The silent question is obvious.
Are you okay?
Keonho breaks eye contact first. He busies himself fixing an in-ear monitor that doesn't actually need adjusting. A familiar warmth creeps uncomfortably up the back of his neck.
When he finally looks up again, Seonghyeon is still watching him.
Only this time, Martin notices too.
The leader doesn't say a word. He simply catches Keonho's eye from the opposite side of the lineup before letting his gaze drift, ever so casually, toward Seonghyeon.
Then back to Keonho.
It lasts less than a second.
Keonho immediately turns away.
He's reading too much into it.
That's all Martin ever does, connecting dots that don't exist.
If he hadn't said anything this morning, none of this would feel strange. He wouldn't be standing three feet farther away than usual. He wouldn't be wondering whether he'd looked for Seonghyeon first every time they'd entered a room today. He definitely wouldn't have spent half the afternoon thinking about room assignments.
It's just because they're comfortable together, and habits are difficult to break.
"CORTIS."
Their stage manager raises a hand,
"Thirty seconds."
The six of them gather into their opening positions. Someone bumps fists with James. Martin takes one slow breath before nodding at each of them in turn.
Juhoon gives Seonghyeon one last grin before moving to his mark.
Seonghyeon closes his novel, handing it off to a staff member, and as he passes by Keonho, he pauses for the briefest moment,
"You good?"
His voice is quiet enough that only Keonho hears it.
He doesn't look at him, "Yeah."
A beat passes.
"Good luck."
Seonghyeon smiles, "You too."
Then he's gone, already moving toward the curtain.
The lights dim, and he begins to hear the opening VCR play.
The roar waiting on the other side swells until it becomes almost impossible to hear anything else.
And before Keonho can make sense of why breakfast has followed him all the way here, the blinding white lights wash over the stage, and twenty thousand voices welcome them into the night.