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The hotel door clicked shut, cutting off the low murmur of the staff in the hallway, and Nicholas did not even bother letting go of the handle properly before he turned and crowded Euijoo straight back against the entryway wall.
They were both still running on whatever had kept them going through the last enjoyable moments of the encore and post-concert live in the backstage, that restlessness where their skin felt too warm, and the quiet of an empty room was almost loud enough to make their ears ring. Euijoo barely had time to brace his heels against the carpet before Nicholas had a hand planted beside his head and the other bunched into the hem of his stage jacket, pulling him in with an impatience that made Euijoo laugh under his breath until Nicholas's mouth caught him off guard.
It was messy at first, their noses bumping in the dim light before Nicholas tilted his chin up, kissing him with an eager insistence that chased every sensible thought straight out of Euijoo's head. Euijoo's hands came up on instinct, fingers finding the fabric of Nicholas's shirt, clutching at the shoulders while he tried to ground himself against the sudden weight pressing him to the wallpaper. Nicholas worked the jacket down Euijoo's arms with clumsy tugs, not caring when the sleeves got tangled around his wrists until the whole thing fell with a dull rustle onto the floor by their feet.
That left Euijoo in the thin white ribbed tank top he had worn under the layers, the cotton damp around the collar from two straight hours under the arena heat. When Nicholas shoved his palms beneath the fabric to grip his waist, his fingers were cool against Euijoo's ribs, making Euijoo flinch and arch slightly against the wall with a half-choked sound.
"Hold on, just—wait a second," Euijoo managed to get out between shallow breaths, trying to pull his head back, but Nicholas followed him without hesitation, trailing open kisses down the soft curve of his jaw to the exposed notch of his collarbone. The silver chain Euijoo had not taken off yet swung between them, the metal pendant cold and stinging whenever it pressed against Nicholas's throat. "Nichol, did you check what time it is?"
"Why would I check that?" Nicholas muttered, his voice muffled right against the sensitive skin below Euijoo's ear, making Euijoo shiver all the way down his spine. He hitched one of his knees higher between Euijoo's thighs, crowding him so closely that Euijoo could not shift an inch without rubbing against him, his hands sliding up to grip the bare tops of Euijoo's shoulders, thumbs digging into the muscle with familiar firmness. "You kept staring at me during the ment while Yuma was talking, you know."
"I was not, I was looking at the prompter," Euijoo protested, though the lie fell completely flat because he ended up gasping when Nicholas nipped lightly at his lower lip, catching the skin between his teeth just long enough to make him whine before licking the sting away. It was so easy to just tilt his head back, let his fingers dig into the hair at the back of Nicholas's neck, and pull him closer, letting the familiar heat of him wash out whatever exhaustion was threatening to settle into his bones.
They were stumbling sideways toward the edge of the bed, Nicholas's hip bumping hard against the wooden luggage rack, when Euijoo's eyes happened to flicker past Nicholas's messy hair to the digital clock glowing on the nightstand.
11: 46 PM.
The bright green digits registered all at once, snapping through the haze in his brain.
"No, wait, stop—seriously, let go of me," Euijoo said, turning his face so Nicholas's lips landed awkwardly against the corner of his nose. He flattened both palms against Nicholas's chest, shoving with enough force that Nicholas actually stumbled back half a step, looking annoyed and thoroughly kissed-stupid. "Nichol, look at the nightstand."
Nicholas did not even turn around, just reached back out to snag Euijoo's wrist, tugging him back in. "I don't care about the nightstand, Juju. Come here."
"It's fourteen minutes to midnight," Euijoo said, his voice cracking slightly on the number, high and flustered as he tried to smooth down his hair with one hand while the other stayed braced against Nicholas's chest. "I literally told the staff I'd go live before twelve so fans could count down with me. If I don't turn the camera on, my phone is going to start blowing up with texts from the manager."
Nicholas let out an exaggerated groan, letting his forehead drop onto Euijoo's bare shoulder with enough dramatic weight that Euijoo had to lean back against the wall again just to support him. "Can't you just turn it on later? Tell them the hotel Wi-Fi was broken."
"They know the Wi-Fi works, Nichol, you already posted a story ten minutes ago," Euijoo retorted, though he could not stop the fond smile tugging at his mouth as his fingers loosely tangled into the hair at Nicholas's crown. He pushed Nicholas back by the shoulders until there was finally daylight between them, slumping against the trim of the way with a sigh, trying to catch his breath.
Euijoo stayed there for a second, arms hanging relaxed by his sides, his collarbone flushed red and his chest rising and falling beneath the thin white tank top, hair sticking out in every direction from where Nicholas's hands had been through it.
Before Euijoo could even push himself off the wall to go hunt down a decent shirt, Nicholas had already pulled his phone from his back pocket, smoothly stepping back a couple of paces to center the frame.
Euijoo barely had time to blink and narrow his eyes before the shutter snapped.
Euijoo squinted against the sudden glare of the screen, blinking rapidly as his eyebrows drew together in immediate suspicion while he finally peeled his spine away from the wallpaper. He brought the back of his wrist up to scrub across his cheek, feeling the lingering dampness and heat of Nicholas's mouth still clinging to his skin, before dropping his arm to pint an accusing index finger straight at the camera lens.
"What was that for?" Euijoo asked, his eyes darting between the dark glass of the phone and Nicholas's deceptively blank expression. "You better not catch me looking swollen, Nichol. Let me see it so I can delete it right now."
Nicholas merely lowered the device by a fraction of an inch, his thumb already skimming over the glass with ease, though the faint tension set along his jaw gave away the irritation he was actively pretending not to feel. There was that familiar dent between his eyebrows—the exact tell that meant he was sulking over being shoved away right before things got interesting—even if he would rather choke on his own pride than give Euijoo the satisfaction of an actual complaint. Instead, he simply rolled his left shoulder in a dismissive shrug, angling the screen out of Euijoo's line of sight so that only the reflective black backing remained visible.
"Birthday post," Nicholas answered in that deliberately flat monotone he used whenever he wanted to sound entirely unaffected by whatever had just occurred between them. "For Twitter. The fans always say they prefer unedited stuff anyway, so I'm giving them what they want. It's an authentic backstage concept."
"Authentic backstage concept?" Euijoo repeated, staring at him in utter disbelief as he took two aggressive strides forward, lunging out to snag the phone before Nicholas could lock it. "I look like I just survived an interrogation under harsh light, Nichol. Give it to me."
Predictably, Nicholas did not even flinch; he simply extended his right arm straight up toward the hotel ceiling, planting his feet firmly into the carpet and using every bit of his wingspan to keep the phone miles out of reach. Euijoo pushed up onto his tiptoes, his left hand smacking against Nicholas's bicep to steady himself while his right hand clawed fruitlessly at empty air, his knuckles brushing against Nicholas's knuckles without getting any closer to the casing.
"I'm wearing an undershirt," Euijoo hissed, swatting at Nicholas's shoulder when another reach failed, his own chest pressing flush against Nicholas's side as he scrambled for leverage. "My hair is literally a mess from your hands pulling at it, and there's a red blotch on my neck that is going to take explaining if anyone zooms in. You cannot post that on the group account; they'll drag both of us."
Nicholas did not budge an inch under the assault, clearly relishing the fact that Euijoo was still draped entirely over him just to fight for the device, his arm remaining rock-solid above their heads while his eyes dropped down to track the way the ribbed cotton of the tank shifted over Euijoo's collarbone. A tiny, infuriating smirk finally broke through the corner of his lips, betraying the nonchalant act he had tried to maintain a few seconds prior.
"The lighting makes your shoulders look broad, and nobody is zooming in that close except you," Nicholas murmured, his free hand casually coming around to grip the curve of Euijoo's waist, holding him against his hip instead of letting him back away. "Besides, you're the one watching the clock like your life depends on it. You have nine minutes left to find a decent shirt and fix your face before the staff starts blowing up your notifications, or I'm adding a caption right now and hitting send before you even open the app."
Euijoo let out a long exhale that sounded halfway between a real groan and an irritated laugh, dropping heavily back down onto his heels and driving an elbow backward into Nicholas's side to make his point, though it barely managed to shake the guy off balance.
"Ugh, you are genuinely miserable to be around," Euijoo grumbled, tilting his chin down so his forehead slumped straight against Nicholas's collarbone in surrender, his breath soaking right through the thick cotton of Nicholas's shirt while he squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know why I expected you to be helpful for even five minutes today, because you are actually the most stubborn, impossible person on the entire touring roster."
Nicholas did not budge an inch under the complaint, only tipping his head downward so his lips grazed heavily through the mussed strands at the crown of Euijoo's head, absorbing every word with that infuriating, stone-faced calm he always defaulted to when he knew he held the upper hand. He kept his right wrist locked high in the air with the phone safely out of reach, but his left hand stayed right where it was, fingers splayed wide against the small of Euijoo's back, his thumb working a small crease into the fabric of the white tank.
"Miserable, sure, whatever you say," Nicholas replied, giving another careless tilt of his shoulder that bumped Euijoo's forehead slightly against his collar. The faint curve at the corner of his lips settled into something entirely too relaxed and sure of itself as he leaned down just enough to mutter right against the shell of Euijoo's ear. "Doesn't change the fact that you love me, though, does it?"
Euijoo opened his mouth to fire back something dismissive, but Nicholas was already giving his waist a firm shove toward the center of the room, effectively cutting off whatever weak defense he was about to formulate.
"Seven minutes now, Juju," Nicholas pointed out with an irritatingly mild lift of his eyebrows, finally lowering the phone to his chest and leaning his hips back against the small entry table with his arms loosely crossed over his front. "Either you go dig that clean shirt out of your suitcase so you look presentable for the fans, or I'm going into the drafts right this second and writing whatever comes to mind under that photo."
Euijoo shot him a scathing look that barely held any bite before spinning on his heel, the fabric of his socks skidding across the polished parquet by the bathroom before finding traction on the carpet. He dove toward the open suitcase balanced precariously on the folding luggage bench, his hands hastily overturning rolled-up undershirts, spare compression sleeves, and plastic hotel laundry bags while he muttered a stream of half-coherent reproaches under his breath.
Nicholas remained propped against the console table near the entryway, his shoulders settled back against the wall with all the idle leisure of someone who had zero deadlines to meet. The flick of his fingernail against the edge of his phone case kept up an irritating noise in the room, serving as an unhelpful metronome while Euijoo frantically counted down the dwindling minutes.
"Where did you put the cream shirt?" Euijoo muttered, leaning half of his body weight into the cavern of his duffel as he shoved aside an unopened pack of makeup wipes and a spare charging cord. "Nichol, did you shove my laundry into the bottom compartment when we brought the bags up from the lobby?"
"You flung it across the desk chair the second we walked in from rehearsal," Nicholas replied in an unhurried drawl, keeping his gaze locked on whatever draft he was tinkering with on his screen instead of offering a single ounce of assistance.
Euijoo clicked his tongue, whirling around toward the window and snatching the folded cloth right off the ergonomic office chair where it had indeed been abandoned. He dragged the garment down over his head with hurried tugs, cursing softly when the ribbed crew neckline snagged on the silver chain around his throat before he managed to twist the pendant free and yank the hem over his hips. The fabric masked the white tank, the oversized sleeves pooling down past his knuckles, while the collar sat snugly against his throat, hiding every blotch of red that Nicholas had worked so hard to leave behind.
Dashing into the bathroom, Euijoo flicked on the vanity light, groaning at the wild silhouette greeting him in the glass. He ran two damp palms through his tousled brown hair, trying to tame the split strands and flatten the awkward cowlicks at the back of his crown where Nicholas's fingers had been gripping him moments ago. He lightly patted his own cheeks with the heels of his hands to chase out the telltale flush sitting beneath his cheekbones, checked his teeth, and cleared his throat twice to shake off the husky edge in his voice.
When he hurried back into the main space, Nicholas had already sauntered over to the low wooden coffee table tucked between the twin beds, casually sitting on the very edge of the unmade mattress with his long legs splayed outward, chin tipped up to watch Euijoo scramble to arrange his setup.
"Does my face look puffy?" Euijoo asked in a hushed, stressed whimper, propping his phone against the ceramic room-service mug and squinting into the dark reflection to inspect his features. "Tell me the truth, do my eyes look swollen from the encore, or does it just look like I was sleeping?"
"You look fine to me," Nicholas murmured, the edge of his teasing slipping away for half a beat as his gaze drifted over the clean drape of the oversized shirt, taking in the cozy image that Euijoo managed to throw together under duress. Then a distinctly treacherous glint settled back into his eyes as he tilted his wrist toward Euijoo, flashing the glowing digital readout on his watch face. "11:58 PM. You have about ninety seconds before the fans start trending complaints about you being late."
Euijoo dropped quickly onto his knees on the floor behind the low table, shuffling toward the carpet to make sure only his upper torso and the curtains were captured within the camera frame. He hovered a nervous thumb over the streaming app, casting a stern glare downward toward the floor.
"You stay right down there," Euijoo commanded in a quiet hiss, flicking his fingers toward the shadowed space under the table edge. "Don't hum, don't clear your throat, don't shift your weight on the bed frame, and do not touch me. If anyone in the comments asks why there's someone else moving around in the room, I'm locking you out in the corridor without your shoes."
Nicholas gave a lazy tilt of his head, folding his arms loosely over his chest as he smoothly slid off the mattress and settled on the floor, tucking himself into the blind spot created by the overhanging table runner and the angle of the lens. He propped his chin on his raised knee, staring up at Euijoo with an expression of pure, mocking innocence that fooled nobody.
"I won't make a sound," Nicholas whispered back, the gravelly pitch of his tone vibrating with amusement.
Euijoo let out a shuddering breath, took a second to smooth out his expression, and plastered on the warm smile that fans had relied on since their debut days before tapping the glowing red icon.
The connection flickered for half a second before the screen came alive, immediately overwhelmed by an avalanche of celebratory comments, heart emojis, and multicolored birthday stickers moving far too fast for human eyes to track.
"Hello, everyone," Euijoo greeted, tilting his head with an easy wave toward the phone lens. "I made it before midnight, didn't I? Happy birthday to me!"
Directly below the boundary of the camera frame, hidden away from the thousands of eyes watching the broadcast, Nicholas slowly stretched his arm out across the carpet. His fingers slipped under the loose hem of Euijoo's pants, wrapping securely around the bare warmth of Euijoo's ankle and giving the tendon a deliberate squeeze.
Euijoo's sentence snagged awkwardly on the tail end of his greeting, his vocal cords locking up half a beat when Nicholas's fingers clamped down over his ankle bone with unmistakable pressure. He forced himself to keep his attention pinned to the cascade of messages scrolling past on his phone, maintaining the crescent crinkle around his eyes while his toes dug hard into the carpet fibers to stifle the sudden jolt running up his calf.
"Ah, thank you so much, everyone," Euijoo said, tilting his head just enough to bring his face into better lighting while speaking in that bright cadence he had mastered over years of public broadcasts. "Yes, today's tour finale was really beyond words. The encore set always feels like it vanishes in three seconds, but seeing the whole venue lit up like that gave all of us so much energy to finish strong."
Underneath the low table, Nicholas rested the back of his head against the side of the mattress, watching the bob of Euijoo's throat with hooded eyes that practically radiated boredom with the broadcast and interest in everything happening beneath the camera frame. He did not keep his grip stationary either; instead, his thumb began dragging slow lines across the tender dip right beside Euijoo's Achilles tendon, applying just enough pressure to make the fabric of Euijoo's pants pull taut over his shins.
Euijoo shifted his hips on the floor, attempting to casually draw his legs back into a tight cross-legged position under the guise of settling in for a long talk, but Nicholas simply slid his palms forward along with the movement, matching every inch of retreat until his fingertips hooked behind Euijoo's knee.
"Did I eat anything after the show?" Euijoo continued reading aloud from the chat, switching effortlessly into Japanese as he lifted his left hand to lightly brush his bangs back, using the movement to shield a brief, murderous glare he flicked straight toward the shadows beneath the table. "Not a proper meal yet, no. The managers brought around some fruit and energy bars right after the closing ment, but I think I'll order room service once we wrap up here. What sounds good at this hour? Something warm, maybe?"
A faint huff slipped past Nicholas's lips, so quiet it was masked by the hotel air conditioning. Shuffling forward on his knees with agonizing slowness, Nicholas wedged his shoulders directly into the narrow opening below the table, his tall frame occupying almost the entire empty space between Euijoo's legs and the furniture legs. He let his grip on the back of Euijoo's knee loosen, only to flatten his palm against the fabric over Euijoo's inner thigh, his knuckles coming to rest right near the pocket seam with heavy warmth.
Euijoo's upper body went rigid, his left hand tightening around the handle of the ceramic mug with enough tension to whiten his knuckles, though he carefully kept his shoulders dropped to avoid looking unnatural on screen.
"Cake? Oh, the staff actually surprised me with a strawberry shortcake right before we packed up the dressing rooms," Euijoo said, nodding along with the stream of hearts and party poppers filling the lower third of the video feed, his tone sweet while his hand dipped below the table edge to give Nicholas's wrist a warning swat.
Nicholas did not pull back even a fraction; the second Euijoo's fingers made contact with his wrist, Nicholas twisted his wrist with precision, catching Euijoo's hand in midair and threading his fingers straight through the gaps until their palms were pressed flush together. He squeezed down with enough force to prevent any hope of escape, his thumb lazily racing the delicate valley between Euijoo's knuckles, back and forth in an unhurried circle that made Euijoo's stomach flip.
Euijoo had to clear his throat twice, coughing lightly into the crook of his oversized sleeve to buy himself a second to regain control of his breathing before his voice gave away how warm his face had suddenly become.
"We sang the birthday song together, and all the staff members took photos," Euijoo managed to say, his pitch wavering just enough that a few comments immediately asked if he was catching a cold from the arena draft. "The members stopped by my room to congratulate me as well, of course. Everyone's been very thoughtful today."
Down in the dark, Nicholas's mouth curled into an arrogant little smirk as he felt the slight tremble running through the fingers trapped in his hold. Deliberately testing the limits of Euijoo's composure, Nicholas lifted their joined hands off the floor and pressed the back of Euijoo's hand flush against his own cheek, turning his face slightly so his lips brushed the skin over Euijoo's wrist bone while his eyes stared upward through his messy fringe with unrepentant defiance.
Euijoo's polite camera smile twitched at the corner, the pleasant curve of his lips threatening to curdle into an outright scowl as he dug his fingernails hard into Nicholas's palm, delivering a retaliatory squeeze that should have caused pain but only earned him a silent rumble of laughter vibrating against his skin.
"Birthday presents from the members?" Euijoo read the next floating comment, laughing with a strained edge that he tried to smooth out by tilting his head and blinking innocently at the lens. "Well… most of them have already given me things, but there's definitely someone who hasn't given me anything useful at all yet. Actually, they're just being incredibly noisy and disruptive right now, if I'm being completely honest."
The comments section immediately erupted into a blur of laughing faces, crying emojis, and rapid-fire speculation as fans scrambled over one another to pinpoint exactly who was driving their leady crazy at midnight in a quiet hotel room.
— Is it Harua again? He was teasing you all through soundcheck!
— Fuma-kun probably stole the remote control lol
— Wait, Nicholas hasn't posted anything on Twitter yet… is he the one bothering you?
— Leader-nim looks so thoroughly done with everyone right now, please let him sleep TT
Euijoo felt a sudden prickle of nervous heat flare along the nape of his neck when Nicholas's name started flashing across the glass screen, multiplying faster than he could skim through them. He made a desperate attempt to wrench his trapped hand backward to break the hold before his reaction became visible on camera, but Nicholas refused to budge an inch, his fingers tightening like iron bands around Euijoo's palm while the pad of his thumb pressed against the narrow hollow of Euijoo's inner wrist, counting every wild, rabbit-fast thump of his pulse.
Nicholas tilted his chin up, his eyes glistening with wicked satisfaction as he tracked the slight swallow working down Euijoo's throat. With maddening leisure, Nicholas dipped his head and pressed his open mouth straight against the delicate skin of Euijoo's inner wrist, not biting or marking, but leaving a slow exhale that dampened Euijoo's sleeve cuff and made Euijoo's breath catch audibly right over the live microphone.
Euijoo's eyes flew in panic, his free hand diving below the edge of the tabletop to grip a handful of Nicholas's dark hair, his knuckles pulling hard enough to make anyone else yelp out loud just to shove his face away from his wrist.
"Ah, the chat is moving away too quickly for me to keep up with," Euijoo stammered out as he scrambled to disguise the embarrassing squeak that had nearly escaped his throat. He leaned abruptly forward toward the propped-up phone, planting both elbows on the lacquered wood so his upper body would block any view of the floor behind him. "Who is it? I'm definitely not naming names today, because if I give them any attention on camera, they're just going to get ten times louder and never leave me alone, so let's all pretend we don't know who the troublemaker is."
Nicholas let out a muffled snort of laughter against the inside of Euijoo's palm, totally indifferent to the harsh tugging at his scalp, and instead of backing down like a sensible person, he shifted forward onto his knees until his shoulders were wedged right against Euijoo's shins. He finally let go of Euijoo's wrist only to slip both hands around the thick fabric of the cream shirt, his palms finding the dip of Euijoo's hips and giving a sudden haul that dragged Euijoo forward by several inches, ruining his balance.
Euijoo gasped as his center of gravity disappeared, his hand flying out instinctively to catch himself and knocking hard against the ceramic room-service mug, sending it scraping across the wood with a harsh rattle that rang through the speaker.
"Ah! Oh, sorry, everyone," Euijoo babbled toward the screen, blood rushing straight to his ears until they burned a vivid crimson as he frantically steadied the rocking mug with trembling fingers, checking the chat with wide eyes to see if the sudden lurch had looked abnormal to the viewers. "I almost spilled my drink all over my phone, which would have been a disaster. My hands are just a little shaky and clumsy today because we put so much energy into the performances."
— Please be careful! Don't hurt your hands right after the tour!
— Euijoo, why did your face just turn bright pink?
— Is the room heater broken or something? Your eyes are glowing red through the screen haha
Euijoo stared at the comment about his ears with sheer mortification curdling in his gut, raising the long sleeve of his shirt to scrub against his burning earlobe while trying to maintain the composed posture expected of a responsible team leader.
Nicholas let out a choked grunt through his nose, his brows drawing together in immediate grievance, yet his hands remained stubbornly clamped onto the fabric over Euijoo's waistline. Leaning his torso over Euijoo's folded legs, Nicholas settled his chin squarely onto the apex of Euijoo's knee, peering up through the shadowed space with unblinking insolence of a pet that knew it was far too indulged to ever face real consequences.
He stared straight into Euijoo's eyes from below, his thumbs casually hooking into the elastic waistband of Euijoo's pants, radiating that infuriating arrogance that always dismantled Euijoo's resolve, demanding every scrap of his attention while thousands of fans continued typing congratulations into the stream above them.
Euijoo glanced down past his eyelashes, his stage smile frozen perfectly in place for the camera while the look he shot down into the darkness promised thorough retribution the very second the broadcast went dark. Taking a slow breath to settle his erratic heartbeat, Euijoo reached his hand down once more, but instead of wrenching at Nicholas's hair again, his fingers softened, his palm sliding smoothly over the nape of Nicholas's neck to gently scratch at the short hair there, silently urging him to keep still and behave.
Feeling the abrupt switch from irritation to fond surrender in the warm fingers cradling the back of his neck, Nicholas finally let his smirk fade, his shoulders dropping as he closed his eyes and buried his forehead comfortably against the wool covering Euijoo's knee, letting out a quiet sigh into the folds of the oversized shirt.
"Anyway, moving on from the chaotic members," Euijoo continued softly, his natural, honeyed warmth flooding back into his cadence as his thumb traced soothing patterns against the skin of Nicholas's hairline. "I really wanted to take a moment to say how grateful I am for all the birthday banners and messages today. Seeing them outside the arena during soundcheck made me feel so supported, and reading through everything on the way back to the hotel was the best present I could have asked for…"
Euijoo watched the comments slow to a manageable trickle, his thumb hovering right above the top corner of the screen while he raised his other hand to offer one last, sweet wave toward the camera lens, deliberately letting the oversized cuff bunch over his knuckles so only his fingertips showed.
"It's already past midnight here, so please don't stay up too late staring at your phones, okay?" Euijoo said, softening his tone into that gentle, honeyed lilt he always used when wrapping up an evening stream. "Thank you so much to everyone who dropped in to count down with me. I'm going to eat a little bit of room service and get plenty of rest for the flight back tomorrow. Bye-bye, sleep well, everyone."
With a quick tap against the glowing red button, the connection cut out, the stream stats flickered across the screen for half a second, and then the display went pitch black, reflecting nothing but the warm ceiling light and Euijoo's thoroughly exhausted face.
The room fell into an immediate quiet, broken only by the drone of the air vent and the distant hiss of traffic from the streets below the hotel.
Euijoo's posture crumpled the very second the camera turned off, the bright idol persona dropping away to expose just how worn out his limbs felt after hours under the arena floodlights. He dropped his elbows straight onto his knees and buried his burning face into his palms with a long groan that muffled into the sleeves, slumping forward until his spine curled into a weary arc.
From beneath the table, Nicholas did not wait a single heartbeat to make his move.
The second the invisible audience was gone, Nicholas rose from his crouch on the carpet with all the pent-up energy he had been forced to bottle up while sitting in the dark. His shoulders bumped hard against the underside of the low wooden table, knocking the ceramic cup sideways and sending the phone sliding an inch across the lacquer as he shoved the entire piece of furniture away to haul himself into Euijoo's space.
"You are completely dead, I swear to God, Nichol," Euijoo muttered through his fingers, though the rasp in his voice stripped the words of any real bite. "I am going to march into the manager's room first thing in the morning and demand they book a room three floors away from mine. My neck is practically on fire the entire time, and they were literally fifty comments asking why my hands were shaking—"
Nicholas did not offer a single word of apology; instead, he caught both of Euijoo's wrists in one palm, easily peeling Euijoo's hands away from his face and pushing them down between their knees against the carpet. With his free hand, Nicholas reached behind Euijoo's head, fingers spearing straight into the messy hair at the nape to tilt Euijoo's chin up, his thumb sweeping firmly over the sensitive hollow behind his ear.
"You talk way too much when you're flustered," Nicholas said, entirely devoid of the mocking boredom he had put on while hiding on the floor.
Before Euijoo could mutter another complaint, Nicholas leaned in and shut him up, capturing his lips in a kiss that had none of the rushed hesitation from earlier. It was deep and devastatingly deliberate, carrying all the slow patience of someone who had been made to sit still for a long time while the person he wanted was sitting right above him, looking out of reach. Nicholas parted Euijoo's lips with an easy familiarity, his tongue sweeping inside to catch the lingering sweet taste of the lukewarm honey tea Euijoo had taken a sip of halfway through the live.
Euijoo let out a defeated noise in the back of his throat, his knuckles relaxing in Nicholas's grip before slipping free to slide upward, curling into the cotton of Nicholas's shirt. Any lingering urge to scold or shove him away evaporated in seconds, his head tipping back into the cradle of Nicholas's palm while his body leaned against the solid frame hovering over him.
When Nicholas finally broke the kiss to let them breathe, he stayed infuriatingly close, his lips grazing the swollen red curve of Euijoo's lips with every quiet syllable he spoke. "Happy birthday, Juju."
Euijoo opened his eyes slowly, his gaze unfocused in the dim hotel light, his chest rising and falling rapidly under the stifling cotton of his shirt. A soft laugh slipped past his teeth, his forehead tipping forward to rest right in the crook of Nicholas's neck, breathing in the familiar scent of tour hairspray and hotel soap.
"You're the worst person I know," Euijoo whispered against his skin, though his arms were already winding tightly around Nicholas's shoulders, locking their chests together. "Now help me get this shirt off before I pass out from the heat."
Nicholas let out a quiet chuckle that vibrated against the side of Euijoo's neck, his hands sliding up beneath the thick hem of the shirt to grip Euijoo's waist, his thumbs pressing into the warm skin just above the waistband of his pants. He did not immediately pull the garment over Euijoo's head, deliberately taking his time while his nose nuzzled into the sensitive dip beneath Euijoo's jawline.
"The worst person you know, sure," Nicholas rumbled, his lips brushing over the pulse point that had finally started to slow its frantic beat. He drew back just an inch, tilting his head with a crooked smirk that carried zero doubt about what the answer would be. "But you still love me, right? Even when I'm being miserable and ruining your broadcast?"
Euijoo lifted his head from Nicholas's shoulder, blinking through the messy fringe that had fallen back into his eyes, his gaze wandering from the faint crease between Nicholas's eyebrows down the smug curve of his mouth. The exasperation that had carried him through the last hour drained away, leaving behind the honest fondness that always settled between them whenever the rest of the world stopped watching.
Euijoo reached up with both hands, the floppy sleeves of his shirt pooling down past his wrists as his fingrs came to rest gently against both sides of Nicholas's jaw, his thumbs smoothing over the sharp line of Nicholas's cheekbones.
"Right," Euijoo murmured softly, and he leaned forward to press a soft kiss straight to the center of Nicholas's forehead, letting his lips linger against the warm skin before sliding his hands back down to Nicholas's shoulders. "I love you, even when you're completely impossible and give me gray hair before my twenty-fourth birthday."
Nicholas's smirk softened into something far more unguarded, a quiet warmth softening the sharp edges of his features as he gripped the bottom of the shirt with both hands and finally hauled it up over Euijoo's head, leaving him in just the white ribbed tank once again, messy, flushed, and entirely his.