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Anxin sat with his back pressed flat against the mirrored wall, his knees pulled slightly toward his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Across the room, the rest of the group was scattered in various states of pure exhaustion—some sprawled flat on the floor, others leaning heavily against the wall.
In the center of the floor, Xinlong sat on his knees with his head hanging low. His hair was damp and sticking to his forehead, his shoulders rose and fell in heavy breaths. Xinlong carried a heavy load during rehearsals. As one of their core dancers, he spent hours fixing small mistakes, correcting body angles, and making sure he executed every detail. He never allowed his posture to slump or his focus to waver while the music was playing. He wanted to be someone they could rely on without hesitation—someone strong enough to keep the foundation from cracking.
And especially when it came to Anxin, Xinlong’s protective instincts ran deep. Ever since their early days, Xinlong had carried a stubborn need to shield Anxin. He wanted to protect him physically when schedules got demanding, and emotionally when the pressure of idol life became too heavy. In Xinlong’s eyes, taking care of Anxin was his responsibility.
Anxin knew all of this because he watched Xinlong constantly. He knew the exact moment Xinlong’s energy began to drain, usually right after the fifth full run-through of their main choreography.
Just as Anxin leaned forward, reaching for a cold water bottle to hand to him, Leo crossed the practice floor. Leo didn't say a word and simply sat down on the floor behind Xinlong, pulled him back against his chest, and wrapped his arms securely around Xinlong's waist. And Xinlong didn't tense up, he didn't even open his eyes. He just let out a shaky exhale and melted backward, letting his entire weight rest against Leo’s chest. Leo rested his chin on top of Xinlong’s hair, his hand casually rubbing soothing circles into Xinlong’s arm.
Anxin’s hand froze right over the plastic bottle.
It was a completely normal sight. Lately, with their comeback schedule draining every ounce of stamina they possessed, Xinlong had been letting his guard down around the older members more than usual. When the physical exhaustion became too much to carry, he naturally drifted toward Junseo, Leo, or Arno. They were his safety nets—the ones who naturally babied him back and allowed him to drop his "reliable member" persona for a few minutes because they understood the burden he felt, and they knew how hard he worked when everyone else was watching. To Xinlong, leaning into their affection was as natural as breathing. It was a silent agreement between them that required no explanation.
Anxin swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry. He hated how much he understood it. Anxin wasn't a hypocrite; he knew he was naturally affectionate, too. He frequently draped himself over Sangwon, leaned into Leo's side, or grabbed Sanghyeon’s arm when he was tired. Physical affection was the currency their group ran on. Usually, Anxin wouldn't bat an eye.
And it wasn't like Xinlong pushed Anxin away, either. Xinlong let Anxin sit close, let him lean on his shoulders, and accepted Anxin’s affection whenever he offered it.
So why was his chest burning like this? Why now?
The truth was, the non-stop schedules had broken down Anxin's usual emotional defenses. Running on three hours of sleep a night made every emotion raw and unfiltered. But more than the fatigue, it was the terrifying uncertainty of what lay between them. And for the past few months, Anxin and Xinlong had been living in a grey zone.
Their dynamic wasn't just built on brotherhood. Early post-debut, during a evaluation month when the pressure felt like it was going to crush them both, they had stayed up until 3 AM in their shared dorm room. That night, under the dim glow of a single lamp, a silent shift had occurred. They hadn't formally confessed, nor had they slapped a neat label on whatever was happening, but an undeniable mutual understanding had taken root. They held hands under the blankets when the lights went out. They shared lingering glances across crowded rooms. They belonged to each other in the quiet place of their room.
In public, however, they kept it disguised. They played the roles of bickering roommates. Xinlong treated Anxin like a cute, slightly bratty younger brother, while Anxin acted like he was a little too cool for Xinlong’s affection—even though he secretly craved every second of it.
That unspoken boundary had worked fine when they had time to unwind together in private. But now, with their hectic schedules leaving zero room for late-night talks, the lack of an official label was eating Anxin alive. Without a label, Anxin felt like he was standing on paper-thin ice. Watching Xinlong surrender so effortlessly to Leo's touch, while Xinlong constantly babied and patted Anxin on the head like a stray cat whenever Anxin reached out, triggered a wave of pure insecurity.
Does our mutual understanding even mean the same thing to him anymore? Anxin thought. He lets the hyungs hold him like that. But when I try to be close, he just treats me like a kid who needs to be looked after.
Anxin didn't want to be protected from a distance. He did not just want to be Xinlong’s bandmate, and he certainly did not want to be his younger brother. He wanted to be the person Xinlong ran to when he was tired. He wanted to be the chest Xinlong leaned against after a hard day.
But because Xinlong was a year older, he automatically kind of placed Anxin into the younger category. To Xinlong, Anxin was still someone who belonged firmly on the receiving end of his care. That fundamental misunderstanding drove Anxin crazy. He hated being treated like a younger brother by the person he was in love with. He wanted Xinlong to look at him as a peer, or even better, as a source of comfort.
And if Xinlong allowed himself to be soft and vulnerable around the older members who took care of him, then Anxin decided right then and there that he would just force his way into that role. He would become a "hyung" in every sense of the word. He would prove that he was strong enough, mature enough, and capable of taking care of Xinlong too, so Xinlong would finally have a reason to lean on him instead.
The first public test of Anxin's quiet resolve came two days later during a casual waiting room break between schedule shoots. The members were sprawled across two large couches, killing time by throwing silly, random questions at one another while the staff set up the next studio set.
Arno was sitting on the armrest, interrogating Junseo about something, while Sanghyeon and Sangwon were in the middle of a playful debate about who could hold a plank longer. Laughter filled the small room, the atmosphere casual and relaxed.
"Hey, speaking of the younger ones," Leo chimed in, leaning back against the couch cushions with a relaxed grin. He gestured casually toward Xinlong, who was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch. "Let's ask Xinlong instead. Who's your favorite hyung?"
Leo then added in a dramatically sweet voice, "Choose carefully~ I love you Xinlong~~"
The room instantly broke into a chorus of playful groans and laughter. Junseo immediately sat up straight, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest with a smug confident smile, while Arno pointed two dramatic fingers directly at his own chest.
Xinlong leaned forward toward the center table, a mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. He paused, deliberately letting the suspense build as he rested his chin in his palm, pretending to consider his options.
"Hmm..." Xinlong said out teasingly. He looked right at Junseo, then at Leo, before turning toward the end of the couch. "It's actually Sangwon hyung~~~"
"Yahhh!" Junseo yelled out instantly, grabbing a decorative throw pillow and hurling it straight at Xinlong’s shoulder while everyone burst into loud laughter. Arno shook his head in mock betrayal, dramatically resting a hand over his heart. "Crazy~"
Leo threw his head back, laughing softly as he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. He had fully expected Xinlong to pick him after all the physical affection he’d showered on him, but he took the rejection in stride.
Sangwon, sitting near the end of the row, looked genuinely caught off guard for a second before a proud grin spread across his face. He instantly straightened his back, puffing out his chest and striking a heroic posture as if he had just won a prestigious award, making the rest of the members laugh even harder.
Anxin laughed with the rest of them, but his eyes never left Xinlong. He watched the way Xinlong’s eyes crinkled into soft crescents at the corners, the way his shoulders shook with genuine amusement, and how completely relaxed he looked surrounded by the older boys.
Anxin felt a familiar pang in his stomach. He forced a smile, but beneath the table, his hands pulled tightly at the hem of his jacket.
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The offline fansign two days later became the real breaking point.
Their seating arrangements at fan events were always randomized by the management team to keep fan interactions fresh. Just the other day, Anxin and Xinlong had been assigned seats right next to each other, spending the entire session exchanging inside jokes between fan turns. But today, the staff had placed Anxin on the far left edge of the long table, while Xinlong was seated on the far right end.
Throughout the event, Anxin could barely catch a glimpse of Xinlong over the sea of camera lenses, light stands, and staff members constantly hovering nearby. Anxin kept his smile bright and handled every fan interaction smoothly, held their hands, answered their sticky-note questions with enthusiasm, and made sure every person left feeling cherished.
It was only after the event ended, while they were commuting back to the dorms, that the true extent of what he had missed hit him.
They had been split into different vans for the ride back. Anxin sat in the back row near the window of the second van, watching the blur of streetlights across the glass. Tired and seeking a quiet distraction, he opened his phone and logged into his private account to browse fan updates. Unsurprisingly, the timeline was already flooded with high-definition previews and short video clips from the venue.
He was idly scrolling past photos of himself when a five-second clip auto-played on his feed, instantly making his thumb freeze over the glass.
The video was shot from a close angle in the front row. It showed Xinlong and Leo leaning close together over the table, shaping their hands into a shared heart for a fan’s camera. Leo was looking down at Xinlong with obvious fondness. Then, without any hesitation, Leo tilted his head and pressed a kiss right near Xinlong's cheek and ear—directly over the distinct tiny mole on Xinlong's skin.
Xinlong was caught off guard for a fraction of a second, flinching slightly in surprise. But instead of pulling away or swatting Leo off, Xinlong simply giggled, his shoulders shaking with bubbly laughter.
Anxin’s thumb remained completely paralyzed over the screen. He watched the clip loop three times, four times, five times—far more than his heart could handle.
He knew Leo was naturally casual, protective, and affectionate with every single one of them. He knew Xinlong didn't mean a single romantic thing by letting it happen. But watching that level of public physical intimacy while he sat on the far side of the stage completely out of the frame, sent a surge of bitter envy straight to his chest.
Whenever I try to lean on him or get close in public, Anxin thought bitterly, locking his phone screen and staring blindly at his dark reflection, he laughs it off. But with them, he just lets them do whatever they want.
What Anxin failed to see from behind his wall of insecurity was the simple truth of Xinlong’s inner world.
Xinlong didn't draw a boundary with the hyungs because there was zero emotional risk involved. Leaning on Leo or Junseo was easy. It required no courage, no vulnerability, and held no terrifying weight. But with Anxin? Every touch, glance, and quiet moment held a terrifying reality. Xinlong loved him so intensely that being physically intimate with Anxin, especially under the watchful eyes of cameras without an official label to protect them, scared the absolute life out of him.
To cope with that overwhelming fear, Xinlong defaulted to "babying" Anxin. He teased him, ruffled his hair, and treated him like a cute younger brother as a defensive shield—a way to keep his own pounding heart under control without pushing Anxin away entirely.
Anxin, however, running on fumes and starved for reassurance, interpreted Xinlong's emotional shield as rejection.
He rested his forehead against the cool glass of the van window, his teeth digging into his lower lip until it hurt. He was done waiting for Xinlong to notice. If Xinlong only felt comfortable letting down his guard around someone who protected and took care of him, then Anxin was going to force his way into that role—no matter what it took.
The opportunity to put his plan into action arrived the following afternoon during a schedule transition between recording studios.
The agency hallway was chaotic, filled with managers carrying outfits and staff calling out time checks. Xinlong was dragging his feet near the back of the group, his heavy black backpack slung over one shoulder. His eyelids were heavy, his posture slumping as the brutal week of rehearsals took its toll.
Junseo was stepping up from behind, clearly intending to fall into step beside Xinlong and sling an arm over his tired shoulders. But before Junseo could bridge the distance, Anxin moved first.
Anxin deliberately stepped between them, putting his body in Junseo's path with a polite smile toward the older boy, before turning directly to Xinlong and grabbing the straps of Xinlong’s bag.
"Heyyy," Anxin said, keeping his tone firm. "Give me your bag."
Xinlong stumbled slightly from the sudden tug on his shoulder. He blinked groggily, looking up at Anxin. "Ehh? What are you doing? It's fine, it's not heavy."
"You look like you're about to faint on the floor," Anxin insisted, stepping closer until he was standing as tall as his frame allowed and trying to project stability. "I'm carrying it for you. Just let go, pleaseee."
Xinlong stared at him for a long moment. He looked at Anxin’s sudden serious expression, his big pleading eyes, and the intense grip he had on the bag strap. Then, Xinlong's tired face softened completely. But rather than handing the bag over, Xinlong reached out with both hands and ruffled Anxin's hair, completely messing up his bangs until they covered his eyes.
"Aww, look at our Anxinie being reliable!" Xinlong cooed, using a high-pitched tone like he was talking to a toddler. "Who taught you to be so grown up, huh?"
Anxin felt the blood rush straight to his face from pure frustration. He stood frozen in the crowded hallway as Xinlong gave his cheek an affectionate pinch before walking past him, completely oblivious to the war waging inside Anxin's chest. Anxin clutched his own fists at his sides, his chest heaving. That wasn't how this was supposed to go. He didn't want a head pat, he didn't want to be praised like a good child. He wanted Xinlong to look at him with the same unguarded, vulnerable reliance he offered the hyungs.
Over the next three days, Anxin doubled down on his desperate campaign—and every single attempt spiraled into an absolute disaster.
During choreography practice, whenever Xinlong sat down on the floor to rub his aching calves, Anxin would immediately hover over him, pressing a cold water bottle into his hands or attempting to give him a serious shoulder massage.
"You're overworking yourself again," Anxin would lecture, trying to sound like a protective older figure. "You need to know your limits, Xinlong. You can't keep pushing until your legs give out... you're getting weak today! you really need someone to watch over you."
Before Xinlong could even absorb the words, Junseo laughed from across the room. "Don't worry Anxin! Xinlong is actually getting stronger day by day. It's just his stamina pulling him back Hahahaha here, eat some of this energy bar."
And then whenever they loaded heavy prop boxes after practice, Anxin would rush to grab the heaviest crates before Xinlong could touch them. But instead of letting Anxin carry them, Xinlong would just laugh softly and step right beside him, and lift the box with him, casually taking most of the weight off Anxin's hands while teasing him about his strength.
Every attempt to prove his capability ended with Xinlong pulling Anxin into hugs, resting his chin on top of Anxin's head and swaying them side to side, or squishing Anxin's cheeks between his palms while cooing about how "cute and hard-working" he was being.
Xinlong naturally wanted to shield and care for Anxin, so seeing Anxin try to act big and tough was simply the sweetest, most endearing thing in the world. He babied Anxin back as a way of expressing affection.
To Anxin, however, whose anxiety was fueled by the missing label and constant exhaustion, every single gentle head pat felt like another nail in the coffin. It felt like proof that no matter what he did, Xinlong would only ever view him now as a little brother.
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The tension finally boiled over on a quiet night inside their shared dorm room. It was well past midnight. The rest of the dorm was silent, and the main lights were off, leaving only the small glow of the lamp.
Xinlong was sitting cross-legged on his mattress, wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. He was calmly scrolling through his phone, looking completely relaxed after a hot shower.
Anxin sat on the edge of his own bed, his hands clenching his knees so hard his fingernails left marks through his sweatpants. For twenty minutes, every backfired attempt from the past week had played on a loop in his mind—the hair ruffling, the high-pitched cooing, and the way Xinlong casually let Leo kiss his cheek while Anxin was kept strictly at an arm's length.
"Xinlong," Anxin called out. His voice was strained but sharp enough to slice through the ambient noise of the room.
Xinlong didn't look up from his screen, tapping casually on an article. "Hmm? What's up, Anxinie?"
That tone and the casual habit-formed nickname made Anxin’s stomach churn. Anxin stood up abruptly that makes his bedsprings squeaking loudly. He took two steps forward and stood directly at the side of Xinlong’s bed, towering over him with his chest heaving.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you," Anxin demanded, his voice trembling slightly despite his best efforts to sound commanding.
Xinlong paused. Slowly, he lowered his phone and looked up, his eyes blinking in quiet surprise at the intensity radiating off the younger boy. "What's wrong???"
"Do you even realize what I've been trying to do all week?!" Anxin snapped, his vocal cords tight with suppressed frustration. "I've been trying to take care of you," Anxin said, looking directly into Xinlong's eyes without flinching. "During rehearsals, during shoots, when we're moving between schedules. Because you're always running yourself into the ground, and I've been trying to step up and protect you. But all you ever do is laugh in my face and treat me like a child."
Xinlong’s eyebrows pulled together in complete confusion. He sat up a little straighter, resting his hands on his lap. "What are you talking about? I don't laugh in your face. I appreciate it when you help out, Anxin—"
"No!" Anxin cut in, his voice rising. "Y-you talk to me like I'm a five-year-old playing dress-up! I don't want to be treated like a baby!"
Xinlong stared at him for two full seconds before his lips twitched. A soft, breathless laugh escaped his mouth. "Anxin, what are you talking about? You are a baby hehehe."
"I am not!" Anxin snapped, his composure instantly cracking. "I'm being serious right now, stop laughing! I don't want to be babied by you. I want to be your hyung. I really can't take this anymore."
"Anxin... what?" Xinlong said, shaking his head slightly. "Can't take what? Being born a year after me? That’s just math, Anxin. I can't change the calendar."
"It's not about the age!" Anxin shouted, stepping even closer until his knees touched the side of Xinlong's mattress. "It's because you're always clinging to the hyungs! You cling to Leo hyung! You melt into Junseo hyung! You let them hold you, kiss your cheek, and carry your weight without a second thought! But whenever it's me, you push me into this... this little brother box! I really, really don't like it!"
The playful smirk on Xinlong’s face slowly faded. He sat up on his bed, dropping his phone onto the blanket. His brow furrowed in genuine confusion as he looked up at the trembling boy before him.
"Are you serious right now?" Xinlong asked softly. "It's because when I'm tired, leaning on them is easy because they take care of things. You know that too, right? Besides, you're extra clingy with everyone else too. Why are you making a big deal out of me receiving comfort from our own team members?"
"You are so clueless!" Anxin choked out. "You really don't understand that it's a completely different story???"
"How is it different?" Xinlong countered, throwing his hands up in genuine exasperation. "You cling to Sangwon hyung all the time? You drape yourself over Sanghyeon every single day?"
Anxin opened his mouth to scream the truth why he is acting like this now, but the words caught violently in his throat. The terrifying reality hit him again: Ohhh right... we have no label. If I say it out loud and he doesn't feel the same anymore, I lose everything...
"Forget it," Anxin whispered, his throat tightening as embarrassing warmth prickled at the corners of his eyes.
Before Xinlong could say another word, Anxin spun on his heel, threw himself onto his own bed, and pulled his blanket completely over his head, curling into a ball turning his back Xinlong's side of the room.
"Anxin," Xinlong called out. "Anxin, get out from under the blanket."
Anxin didn't utter a single sound. He squeezed his eyes shut in the pitch black under the blanket, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep any sound from escaping. He felt so stupid. He had tried to sound strong, reliable, and mature, but all he had done was throw a childish tantrum right in front of the person whose respect he wanted most.
Silence descended upon the room. Xinlong remained sitting on his bed for a long time, staring at the outline of the blanket and his mind reeling in confusion. After nearly twenty minutes of heavy silence, the nightstand light clicked off, plunging the room into shadow.
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The next morning was unbearable.
Anxin woke up early, dressed in silence, and avoided making eye contact with Xinlong entirely. During their morning dance practice, Anxin stood on the opposite side of the mirror, keeping his head down and focusing strictly on his steps. Whenever Xinlong walked near him, Anxin moved away under the guise of grabbing a towel or checking his shoelaces.
And by three o'clock, the members were around the room during a brief thirty-minute window between vocal evaluations and choreography review. Anxin sat alone at one of the small round tables near the window, his head resting in his hand as he stared blankly at his phone.
Xinlong, sitting across the room on a couch next to Junseo, hadn't missed a single detail. His mind had been racing since the night before. He couldn't figure out why Anxin was acting so intensely about the age lines, or why a simple affection with the hyungs had triggered such a massive blowout.
Xinlong walked over, eyeing Anxin silently. Deciding to try and clear the air quietly, Xinlong reached out to grab Anxin's water tumbler that was sitting on the counter to refill it at the dispenser across the room. He walked over to Anxin's table, keeping his steps soft.
"You barely drank anything during practice," Xinlong began softly, reaching out. "I'll fill it up for—"
Clang!
Anxin instantly slapped Xinlong’s hand away from the bottle. Metal screeched loudly against the wooden tabletop as Anxin yanked the bottle close to his chest, wrapping both arms defensively around it like a child protecting a stolen toy.
"Don't touch it," Anxin said sharply, glaring at the tabletop. "I can get my own water. Stop trying to do stuff for me."
Xinlong stood frozen, his hand still hovering in the air where Anxin had knocked it back. He looked down at Anxin’s fingers clutching the water bottle, then at the deep, sulky pout plastered across Anxin's lips. It was the exact same look Anxin gave him whenever someone else took the last slice of food, or whenever a schedule ran too late and kept them apart.
And in that exact split-second silence, the pieces finally slammed together in Xinlong’s head. Xinlong stared at him as a sudden, overwhelming realization washed over his mind. Ohhhh, Xinlong realized, his chest giving a strange, sudden flutter. He doesn't care about being older or protective.. is he jealous???
All those times Anxin had physically blocked Leo from leaning on him... all those times he had practically wrestled heavy equipment bags out of his hands... all those sulky glares whenever Xinlong rested his head on Junseo or Arno's shoulder—it wasn't about maturity or group hierarchy at all. Anxin wasn't trying to act like an older brother to protect him; he was trying to claim a space where he felt safe and irreplaceable. He wanted Xinlong’s clinginess, but he was terrified because he thought he had no official right to demand it.
A dangerous heat crept up Xinlong’s neck, blooming into a mischievous spark behind his eyes. The relief and sweetness of the revelation hit him all at once, washing away every drop of confusion from the night before. Suddenly, the entire situation transformed from a frustrating argument into something impossibly endearing. He realized the total power he held over the younger boy.
He bent down slightly, bringing his face right into Anxin's field of vision, and spoke in a sweet high-pitched voice. "Ohhh, my mistake," Xinlong drawled out dramatically, laying the babying tone on as thick as honey. "I shouldn't have touched your water without permission... Anxin-hyung~"
Anxin’s entire body went rigid. His eyes widened in absolute horror, and a deep color red flush exploded across his cheeks, rushing instantly to the tips of his ears.
"Stop calling me that!" Anxin hissed under his breath, scrambling to pull his jacket collar up to hide his face. He swiveled his chair away, his voice cracking with pure embarrassment. "Don't talk to me!"
Xinlong just giggled softly, stepping back with his hands folded neatly behind his waist, feeling thoroughly amused by the reaction he had just unlocked.
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The next day, Xinlong decided to test his theory to the limit.
When the group gathered back in the main practice room for their final run-through, Anxin spent the first twenty minutes observing Xinlong out of the corner of his eye. He was bracing himself, waiting for Xinlong to naturally drift toward Leo or sit between Junseo’s knees like he usually did when his stamina flagged.
And to Anxin's total shock, Xinlong stayed completely independent.
When Leo sat on the floor near the mirror, Xinlong sat three feet away, stretching his hamstrings on his own. When Junseo held out a sports drink, Xinlong politely took a sip, thanked him, and immediately sat back down on his own space without leaning into Junseo's side. He didn't cling to the older members once.
Sitting against the back wall, Anxin’s posture slowly unraveled. His tight shoulders relaxed, and a faint smirk began to form on his lips. He secretly thought his outburst from the night before had finally registered. A quiet wave of satisfaction washed over his chest—he had set the boundary, and Xinlong was listening.
Then, the room door clicked open.
"Hey guys, recording cleared out early," Sanghyeon announced cheerfully, stepping into the practice room while wiping his neck with a small white towel.
Xinlong’s head snapped up instantly. His eyes lit up with wildly exaggerated excitement. "Ohhhhh! Sanghyeonieee you're here~~~" Xinlong squealed, his voice carrying right across the room.
Before anyone could process what was happening, Xinlong bounded across the smooth practice floor, threw his arms around Sanghyeon’s neck, and attached himself to Sanghyeon’s side like a human backpack. Sanghyeon stumbled back a step, laughing in surprise.
"Xinlong hyung, what's with you today?" Sanghyeon laughed, patting Xinlong's head fondly.
"Nothing, I just missed you so muchhh" Xinlong said in a clear voice, making sure his voice rang clearly off the mirrors. He pressed his cheek heavily against Sanghyeon’s shoulder, looking directly past Sanghyeon’s neck to lock eyes with Anxin on the other side of the room. He flashed an innocent wide-eyed smile. "Some people in this room have been giving me scary looks and ignoring me all day, so I have no choice but to cling to my lovely Sanghyeonie instead~"
Anxin’s faint satisfaction vanished into thin air. He sat frozen against the mirrored wall, his jaw dropping in sheer disbelief as he watched Xinlong rub his cheek against Sanghyeon’s arm. Sanghyeon was younger than both of them.
A wave of pure jealousy crashed over Anxin, so intense it made his throat feel tight. It was childish and he knew logically that Xinlong was just messing around but his exhausted mind couldn't rationalize it. Without saying a single word to anyone, Anxin stood up and marched straight out of the room.
Behind him, Xinlong buried his face into Sanghyeon's shoulder, stifling a quiet burst of triumphant laughter.
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By eleven o'clock that night, when they returned to the dorm. The jokes had run its course and the weight of reality returned.
Anxin went straight to their shared room, showered, and climbed onto his bed, sitting with his knees pulled tightly up to his chest, staring blankly at the wall. Half an hour later, Xinlong walked in while drying his damp hair with a small towel. Looking over at Anxin’s curled-up figure, a sudden, sharp pang of guilt pierced Xinlong's chest. Maybe he had pushed his teasing a little too far.
Xinlong set his towel on the desk chair, walked across the small floor space, and stopped right beside Anxin’s mattress. "Anxin ah..." Xinlong called out gently and completely stripped of any sarcasm.
Anxin didn't answer.
Xinlong sighed softly. Without asking for permission, he climbed onto the mattress. "Hey," Xinlong murmured. He reached out and tried to gently pull Anxin's hands away from his legs, but Anxin resisted, pulling himself into an even tighter ball. "Come on, stop ignoring me~"
"Go away," Anxin’s voice came out muffled from behind his knees. "Go cling to Sanghyeon or whatever." Xinlong couldn't help the soft giggle that escaped his throat. "Are you seriously still sulking over that?"
"It's not funnyyy!" Anxin suddenly shouted, whipping his head out from his knees.
Xinlong froze mid-movement. Anxin’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears, his lower lip trembling visibly as he pouted hard. His face was flushed red, and his chest was heaving with quick shallow breaths.
"It's not funny at all," Anxin whimpered, his voice cracking painfully as a heavy tear spilled over his eyelashes and tracked down his cheek. He pressed a trembling hand over his sternum, squeezing the fabric of his shirt. "My chest... my chest actually hurts, Xinlong. I hate this so much."
Xinlong’s heart dropped into his stomach. All the playful arrogance and desire to tease completely vanished, replaced by raw regret and an overwhelming wave of tenderness.
"Oh—hey, hey... don't cry," Xinlong panicked softly, his defensive shell crumbling completely.
Before Anxin could pull away or hide his face again, Xinlong shifted forward, climbing completely onto the bed. He didn't just sit beside him—he hovered over Anxin, shifting his weight until he was laying directly on top of him, trapping Anxin’s body beneath his own and wrapping his arms securely around Anxin’s waist in a tight grounding hold.
The sudden weight and warmth forced Anxin to lay flat on his back. Xinlong rested his chest against Anxin's, his hands framing Anxin's sides, holding him so close that there was barely any air between them. With Xinlong hovering directly over him, Anxin had nowhere to hide his tear-streaked face. He tried to avert his eyes, turning his head to the side, his lips pouting in pure distress.
Xinlong leaned down, bringing his face just inches away from Anxin’s ear.
"I get it now, okay?" Xinlong whispered, his hands rubbing soothing circles into Anxin's sides through his shirt. "I get it now. I'm sorry. Please don't cry, Anxin. I was only teasing you because you kept ignoring me and giving me the cold shoulder. I missed talking to you so much."
Anxin turned his face further away, squeezing his eyes shut. "You don't get it at all..."
"Then explain it to me," Xinlong begged softly, reaching one hand up to brush strands of hair away from Anxin's forehead, his thumb lingering against his temple. "Talk to me properly, Anxin-ah."
Anxin swallowed hard, his throat tight with months of unsaid fears. He opened his wet eyes and finally looked directly up into Xinlong’s face, just inches away.
"I..." Anxin started, his voice barely above a whisper and trembling with raw insecurity. "I know we have this... this unspoken understanding between us. I thought we both felt it. But lately, with how hectic everything has been, you're always running to the hyungs. They baby you, they take care of you, and you just let them hold you..."
Xinlong went entirely still, listening silently as Anxin laid his whole heart bare.
"It kind of made me terrified," Anxin continued, a fresh tear slipping down. "Because we never said what we are out loud, I felt like... like maybe that mutual understanding didn't mean as much to you as it did to me. I felt like I was losing you to them, and I couldn't even complain because I have no right to. I don't have a label to stand on."
He reached up with trembling hands, gripping the fabric of Xinlong’s hoodie over his back.
"That's why I tried so hard to act like a hyung," Anxin admitted, hiding his burning face against the side of Xinlong’s neck. "I thought if I couldn't be your partner, I could at least be someone you depend on. I just wanted a reason to be the one taking care of you so you wouldn't forget about me."
Xinlong lay there, completely stunned. The weight of Anxin’s words crashed over him, laying bare the true depth of the younger boy's pain. It wasn't about pride, it was Anxin's desperate anxious way of holding onto a relationship he was terrified of losing, an attempt to secure a place in Xinlong’s life.
A soft tender look settled over Xinlong’s features. He leaned down, pressing his lips firmly against Anxin’s damp cheekbone, right over his tear track, holding the kiss there until Anxin let out a long, shuddering breath.
"You idiot," Xinlong whispered lovingly against his skin, pulling back just enough to catch Anxin's eyes. "Did you really think I was leaning on the hyungs because I forgot about you?"
Anxin pouted, stubbornly refusing to answer.
"I go to them because my body is exhausted and they treat me like a tired kid," Xinlong explained gently, his hands caressing Anxin's waist. "It's easy and brainless. But you... you aren't just someone who takes care of me, Anxin. You're the person I actually care about too. My feelings for you don't just disappear because work gets busy."
Xinlong cupped Anxin’s warm face with both hands, thumbing away the remaining moisture beneath his eyes. "If you think I don't want to cling to you, you're completely wrong," Xinlong added, his voice dropping into a steady cadence. "I treat you like that in public because being close to you when we aren't official terrifies me. Every time I touch you, my heart feels like it's going to explode, and I don't know how to hide it when cameras are around."
Anxin’s breath hitched, his eyes widening in shock.
"So if it's the label that's making you anxious, then let's stop keeping it unspoken," Xinlong said firmly, staring straight into Anxin’s soul. "You don't need to be my hyung, and you definitely don't need to act tough to keep me. Be my partner, Anxin-ah. Be yourself, and let me cling to you because you're the only one I actually want."
Anxin’s chest heaved as the suffocating knot of anxiety that had gripped him for weeks finally dissolved, replaced by a warm, overwhelming wave of relief.
"You mean it?" Anxin muttered, his lips still pouting slightly out of habit.
"I mean every word," Xinlong smiled, leaning down to press another lingering kiss against Anxin's cheek, right near his lips. "Now stop sulking and let your boyfriend hold you properly. And you want me to kiss you on the cheeks, you said? I'll kiss you as much as you want."
"I said I'm jealous. You're always like a koala to Leo hyung, Junseo hyung, Arno hyung, and now Sanghyeon! But when it comes to me, you just pet my head like I'm a cat! You're the cat!" Anxin said, sniffling as he turned his head slightly.
"Here you go again... Okay, fine, I'm a cat. But so are you~" Xinlong teased.
"And then... y-you... don't even let me kiss your cheek, but Leo hyung gets to..." Anxin mumbled, but his tone losing all of its bite.
"Then kiss me," Xinlong said, leaning his head down so his cheek rested right against Anxin's lips.
Anxin hesitated for a second before softly pressing his lips against Xinlong's cheek, lingering there until Xinlong giggled and turned his head to press their foreheads together. "You're still an annoying cat though," Anxin mumbled against Xinlong's skin, his arms finally wrapping around Xinlong's waist, pulling him down completely onto his chest. "An annoying clingy koala cat."
"Fine, I'm a cat," Xinlong chuckled quietly, closing his eyes as he rested his chin snugly in the crook of Anxin's neck. He let his full weight settle comfortably over Anxin. "Now stop sulking and let me sleep like this."
"Your head is heavy," Anxin complained lightly, though he didn't pull away. Instead, he brought one hand up, his fingers gently threading through Xinlong’s hair and softly massaging his scalp the way he had wanted to for weeks without feeling like an imposter.
"Get used to it," Xinlong murmured, his raspy voice dropping into a sleepy frequency. "From now on, when I'm exhausted, I'm coming straight in here. I don't care how busy the schedule gets."
Anxin smiled softly in the dark. They both knew that sunrise would bring the same reality. Tomorrow, the practice room floor would still be sticky with sweat, the managers would still be rushing them from schedule to schedule, and they would still have to navigate the careful, unspoken boundaries of camera angles and public eyes. Xinlong would probably still laugh off affection in front of the cameras, and Anxin would still play the role of the energetic dongsaeng.
Publicly, nothing needed to change overnight. But in this small, quiet space—between their shared beds, under the dim glow of the streetlight filtering through the blinds—the grey zone was finally gone.
Anxin closed his eyes, pulling the blanket higher over both of their shoulders. He rested his cheek against the top of Xinlong's head, listening to the comforting rhythm of Xinlong's heartbeat right against his own, finally at home in the dark.