Archive of Our Own

There are certain risks Kwon Soonyoung had expected prior to his enlistment in the military.

Waking up before the crack of dawn is one of them. Racing against the clock to finish his entire meal before they had to partake in mandatory physical exercises is another. He had also expected that, at some point, he would be ordered around by someone younger than him, because the military did not care about age seniority as much as they did rank seniority.

(Although, having been in a group with six younger members for over ten years, this did not particularly bother him, so that hadn’t been too bad at least.)

He had even slipped on a patch of flooring that was not even wet in the slightest after demonstrating—or attempting to, at least—a kick he had performed only about 2,076 times in his entire taekwondo career in front of his demonstration team. That moment in particular had bruised his ego quite a bit, but even that is an experience he can eventually laugh about later.

His point being: all of these risks eventually come with a reward.

Waking up early simply means more time spent texting Jihoon.

Finishing his entire meal means sending a picture of his empty plate to Jihoon, texting him proudly: I finished everything, and receiving a thumbs up reaction in return.

Slipping on the stupid dry floor that day meant Soonyoung describing what had happened over a phone call with Jihoon, Jihoon laughing and calling him an idiot, and Soonyoung miserably trying to figure out how to record a laugh during a phone call because he had not heard Jihoon’s voice in days.

So, in his opinion—irrelevant as it is—all these risk-reward situations come with more reward than risk, and he is perfectly content with how his military life is going.

He had been promoted to Private First Class after completing his basic training.

So had Jihoon.

He had been granted a second early promotion and became a corporal.

So had Jihoon.

He had been granted a third early promotion and became a sergeant.

So had Jihoon.

They basically came as a one-plus-one deal at this point. Neither of them went very far without the other.

And now, after months of meticulous planning and filling out papers as if they were renewing contracts again, they finally had a chance to share a stage together in a joint performance.

Key word: had.

Soonyoung had been excited. For months, he and Jihoon had been talking about the joint performance as if they hadn’t just had a comeback before they enlisted. 

The thing with enlistment, however—and they found this out the hard way—was that their military schedules almost never aligned enough for them to see each other as constantly as they once did. Although the military did not prohibit phone usage as strictly as they initially worried about, they seldom saw each other in person. As a result, lovey-dovey time had reduced greatly.

Soonyoung had been devastated.

Jihoon had been relieved.

Although, in the few times their schedules did happen to align by the grace of god, it evidently wasn’t enough for either of them. Soonyoung had always been Jihoon-deprived whether he was on the phone with him for five minutes or half an hour. Jihoon, on the other hand, would rather run fifty laps around the barracks before he ever admitted how much he missed Soonyoung’s presence. 

Either way, time together was never enough.

And because of how sparse their interactions were, Soonyoung still remembers the moments leading up to the preparation of the joint performance.

Jihoon had messaged him at six in the morning with:

Jihoon: Our team finalized the arrangement.

Soonyoung had replied several hours later with a voice note saying, “Ours too. Did you miss me?” because his arms refused to cooperate enough to text after doing more push-ups than he could handle. Although he’d been working on his upper body strength prior to enlistment, military exercises had humbled him significantly.

Jihoon had not responded to him, but the read receipt exposed him.

So Soonyoung, completely undeterred and even more determined, had sent him a picture of himself lying dramatically across the practice floor while two members of his demonstration team stood over him making thumbs down gestures.

Jihoon had responded with: 

Jihoon: You’re slacking.

Soonyoung texted back: 

I was actually working very hard, thank you :Soonyoung

Jihoon had texted several hours later with: 

Jihoon: Did you die yet?

Soonyoung replied: 

Yes :Soonyoung

Jihoon texted: 

Jihoon: Unfortunate. I haven’t seen you yet.

At that, Soonyoung immediately went: 

JIHOONIE 🖤🖤🖤 :Soonyoung

Jihoon had not responded.

Soonyoung had proceeded to send approximately two-hundred messages in rapid fire succession, completely over the moon that Jihoon—read: his boyfriend—had essentially said he missed him so much that the lack of his presence was unfortunate.

(Note: that is not at all what Jihoon said, but Soonyoung has always been creative with his interpretations whether they were true or not.)

His joy had lasted all of thirty seconds—generous, if you ask him—before he was begrudgingly summoned upon to run drills with his team. 

This had been their rhythm for months now. They’d compare schedules in the morning, both awake at ungodly hours because their duties as sergeants did not wait for a reasonable hour. Then they’d run drills with their units until morale became low and hunger became increasingly harder to ignore. After lunch, they’d text each other in the few minutes they had left to spare before they both resumed their respective training until dusk. They’d text again after dinner, complaining about the things they had to do. Then they’d call after being sent to the barracks, their voices providing each other energy to restart the cycle the next day.

Somewhere in the weeks leading up to the joint performance, when everyone had fallen asleep and the barracks were kind enough to grant them a few minutes of uninterrupted peace, they had whispered promises to each other over the phone.

It wasn’t anything cheesy, because Jihoon would rather do three-hundred pull-ups than profess his love for Soonyoung, though Soonyoung himself would be far too willing to say anything at all. 

But they had promised they would actually be at the same official event. They had auditioned together, then passed together, so it seemed inevitable that they would eventually get to perform together like they used to.

Their assignments already keep them apart more often than Soonyoung likes. Jihoon serves as a drill instructor at the Army Training Center in Nonsan, while Soonyoung’s own responsibilities placed him with the specialized Army Taekwondo Demonstration Team. They are both sergeants now with more responsibilities than others, both accustomed to being addressed formally by younger and older soldiers alike, and both living lives so structured now that seeing each other sometimes requires more paperwork than it did getting into the military.

The joint performance had not just been a chance for their teams to share a stage, but a chance for Hoshi and Woozi to share a stage.

Soonyoung had been insufferable about it the moment he learned it was possible.

“You realize that we are making a comeback in the military,” he’d told Jihoon over the phone one night.

Jihoon said flatly, “It is not a comeback.”

“It could be!” Soonyoung insisted.

“We’ll be in our uniforms.”

“Good for concept photos.” 

“It’s not an actual stage.”

“Our fans will still be watching,” Soonyoung said happily. 

Jihoon sighed in defeat, but Soonyoung could hear his smile over the phone.

That’s the problem with loving Jihoon for as long as Soonyoung has. It is not really a problem, per se, because loving Jihoon is probably one of the best things Soonyoung has done in his entire life, but it is merely an observation.

He had become completely fluent in all the ways that made Jihoon—well, Jihoon. 

He knew the differences between Jihoon’s genuine laughter and the laughter he makes when he’s uncomfortable and trying not to be impolite. He knew every angle of Jihoon’s smile because he’d spent an unreasonable amount of time saving photos of his boyfriend to his gallery until he had to upload them to his computer because his storage became full. He knew all the different sounds of Jihoon’s silence, though some people would argue that silence did not have a sound.

Soonyoung begs to differ, because Jihoon had a specific sort of silence only he could hear when Jihoon was fond and trying not to smile because he loved Soonyoung’s stupidity more than his rationality. This had been one of those silences.

Soonyoung had been looking forward to seeing that smile in person for days. 

He had also been looking forward to waiting backstage and annoying Jihoon before the performance. He’d been looking forward to reassuring Jihoon while his boyfriend pretended he wasn’t nervous, despite having performed in front of tens of thousands of people before. He’d been looking forward to standing in the wings while Jihoon and his team performed their number, feeling that ridiculous swelling pride he always experienced whenever he watched Jihoon perform, then proceed to brag about Jihoon to his teammates, most of whom had started learning about Jihoon through association rather than by the man himself.

He had especially been looking forward to sharing a stage together.

Then Soonyoung landed badly during rehearsal.

It had happened in a blur. He had rotated too quickly, his right foot landing awkwardly against the mat, then a sharp crack shifted in his knee that immediately told him something had gone horribly wrong, and the chance for a joint performance vanished instantly.

His teammates had panicked while Jihoon rushed over immediately. Soonyoung’s commanding officer had immediately booted him to the medical wing before his mind had caught up to what happened. The scans had taken offensively long and, even more offensively, told him the words no dancer should ever hear.

He had torn his ACL.

He almost finds it funny, because of course—of course—it had happened just weeks before the performance. 

They had been preparing for months to make this joint stage happen. Him and his team had planned, coordinated, and choreographed nearly the entire routine. They had spent grueling hours repeating the same moves from start to finish until Soonyoung had been satisfied with the angle of their arms and the slight shifts of their feet as needed, because his standards didn’t drop just because he’d enlisted.

He had practiced with Jihoon and his team for their shared stage. Everything had gone perfectly, because they knew each other in ways that other people didn’t understand, and that hadn’t changed in the slightest even despite the time they spent apart.

So of course, he was devastated. 

The first time the doctor told him he couldn’t participate, Soonyoung had stared at him as though he had somehow been given the wrong diagnosis. Which, admittedly, would’ve been better than hearing his actual diagnosis.

“Continuing will most definitely make it worse,” the doctor had told him.

“I know,” he had responded.

“You need to rest.”

“I know.”

“Absolutely no jumping or kicking.”

“I know.”

“And absolutely no performances.”

Soonyoung had immediately tried to negotiate with, “What if I only do the easier portions?”

“No.”

“What if I just move my upper body?”

The doctor had stared at him with an expression so flat that Soonyoung retracted the suggestion immediately.

When Jihoon visited for the first time and heard what Soonyoung tried to do, his expression went as flat as the doctor’s. Then, even flatter when he heard about Soonyoung’s failed attempt to bargain his way back into the team. 

Soonyoung would never forget that expression.

“Taping your knee tighter does not make it safe,” Jihoon had told him with his arms crossed. He had the face of a disappointed mother.

“I was just wondering,” Soonyoung defended.

“You asked if you could do the performance sitting down.”

“I was joking.”

“No, you weren’t. I know you.”

Soonyoung hesitated, then sighed, “Fine, I wasn’t.”

Jihoon’s voice softened after that when he said, “I know you want to perform again.”

Soonyoung deflated almost instantly, because whenever Jihoon’s voice went soft like that, he knew it meant he was already losing the argument before he could come up with one.

“But you need to rest, Youngie,” Jihoon continued. 

The nickname only made Soonyoung deflate further, because even despite his stubbornness and reckless tendencies, it was clear Jihoon cared about him recovering. After all, he could only do so much when they were separated into different areas of the military. He could no longer watch over Soonyoung the way he had when they had lived together with their members in the dorm, which also meant he could no longer scold him before he did something stupid.

And Jihoon had been terrified.

The moment Soonyoung’s knee gave way and he could not bring himself to stand up, Jihoon had been the first one by his side. Although he immediately demanded to know what had happened in that firm voice of his, his hands had been shaking, hovering because he didn’t know where he could touch, and his face had gone pale as though he’d been the one to experience the injury.

Soonyoung had almost comforted him instead.

Jihoon would’ve likely smacked him, injured or not.

Then, Jihoon looked at him with an expression so gentle, Soonyoung had to look down at his braced knee before he could get emotional.

“You need to heal,” Jihoon continued. Then quieter, he said, “We were both there when Seungcheol-hyung tore his. He took months to heal and he still isn’t fully recovered. Maybe he never will.”

The implication left little to be desired.

“I know,” Soonyoung murmured, then swallowed hard because he had yet to admit the real reason why it hurt. “I wanted to do this one with you.”

Jihoon’s face softened. “Me too,” he confessed.

Soonyoung’s disappointment sharpened instantly. 

If there was one thing he hated more than injuring himself after spending so much time and effort preparing for a stage he could’ve shared with Jihoon, it was disappointing Jihoon and knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. 

Then, as though sensing his dejection, Jihoon promptly leaned over and kissed his cheek. The action is usually something Soonyoung would appreciate in times of distress, and given that the gesture had become increasingly rare since they both enlisted, as well as Jihoon’s scarcity in giving any type of physical affections in general, he ought to feel grateful for receiving anything at all. 

But the kiss had been tender enough to make his eyes well up further.

Jihoon did not make fun of him, nor did he say anything. He’d always been a man of a few words where love was concerned. He simply rubbed his thumb against the back of Soonyoung’s hand, where they had been clasped together for some time.

Soonyoung swallowed and said, “I’ll still watch the broadcast.”

“You better.”

“You’ll do well.”

Jihoon looked almost offended. “What else would I do if not my best?”

Soonyoung laughed despite himself and murmured affectionately, “You always do.”

A pause settled in the air.

Then Jihoon wiped a tear that had unknowingly streaked Soonyoung’s cheek without permission, and said, “I’ll do my best for both of us.”

Soonyoung promptly burst into tears.

Jihoon only sighed and pulled him closer, though he would never admit the fact that he’d been smiling fondly over Soonyoung’s shoulder.

Now though, Soonyoung is currently doing leg exercises after the doctor had told him that, contrary to popular belief, it was important for him to do light exercises to keep his knee active. He’s been sitting on his bed. bending his knee carefully every so often as he switches through tabs on his phone impatiently, receiving updates from his team, texting Jihoon, and repeatedly pulling up the video premiere as if it will start unexpectedly if he switches to the wrong tabs.

It’s the day of the Ground Forces Festival, and he isn’t going to miss it. He did not spend hours creating choreography, guiding his team through the movements, and sending forty of his birthday merch caps for his team to wear during the performance just to miss it.

Especially not when Jihoon is performing.

His time in the military had taught him two things: 

1. Rewards were almost always worth the risk
2. Anything involving Jihoon was always considered a reward.

And yet, on a deceivingly ordinary afternoon, Soonyoung is about to discover that taking risks is not always worth the reward. Especially not when the reward in question is Jihoon learning all about the embarrassing things he’s said about him, courtesy of his team being incapable of behaving while Soonyoung is out of commission.

It starts when he receives a photography of the stage.

He’s still switching impatiently between the tabs on his phone when it vibrates, a white banner popping up at the top. He nearly drops his phone, opens several unneeded apps by mistake, and somehow presses a complete equation in the calculator app before he properly reads it.

Jeonghee: We finished setting up.

Beneath the text is a picture of the venue.

Soonyoung’s heart squeezes.

It’s larger than he thought it would be. The performance mat is laid out in a large rectangle. The backdrop seems to be playing a video for testing. Personnel are still moving near the stage, preparing props and other equipment. He recognizes members of his demonstration team gathering in formation at the center.

Somewhere beyond that frame, Jihoon is there too.

Soonyoung wishes he could see him.

He reacts to the image with a heart and types back:

Did you see Jihoonie? :Soonyoung

Jeonghee: Yeah.

Soonyoung nearly stands up.

SEND ME A PICTURE :Soonyoung

Jeonghee: Why don’t you ask him yourself? 😂

Because if I ask him, he won’t send it 😞 :Soonyoung

Just one pleaseeeeeeeee :Soonyoung

Jeonghee: I respect people’s privacy.

YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO RESPECT ME :Soonyoung

The statement is true only to some extent. Although Soonyoung’s rank is higher than that of his team, he does very little to actually enforce it unless absolutely necessary. His team knows this as well as he does.

Then, Jeonghee types:

Jeonghee: I do respect you.

Jeonghee: I also value my life 😂

Soonyoung scowls and tosses his phone aside. He waits for about a second before he grabs it again, because perhaps Jeonghee had changed his mind and had managed to sneak a photo of Jihoon. 

There is no photo to be seen.

He stares at the screen for a long time, as if staring will somehow make a photo of Jihoon appear if he tries hard enough. Needless to say, it doesn’t.

Instead, he gets a text from a different member of his team, Dongwoo.

Soonyoung freezes.

It’s a photo of Jihoon this time.

His Jihoonie.

Soonyoung zooms in so quickly he nearly exits the conversation.

Jihoon is standing several meters away, talking to one of his own team members. One hand rests near his side while the other is gesturing about something, expression focused. He isn’t looking toward the camera, but at whoever is speaking to him. His posture is relaxed, hair groomed simply, and uniform clinging deliciously in all the right places. 

Soonyoung’s throat dries.

It has been days since he’s seen his boyfriend in person, but it always feels as though he’s seeing the results of Jihoon’s 2:00 a.m. workout sessions for the first time. Despite knowing very little can change about a person’s physique within that time period, Soonyoung still struggles to comprehend just how buff he is.

He zooms in despite the fact that the photo is candid and therefore, not the best quality. Although, the quality of the photo hardly matters when his boyfriend possesses all the quality he needs. He convinces himself he is only doing this for research purposes anyway.

Obviously.

Soonyoung has long since accepted the fact that Jihoon will look good no matter what he does. He could be half asleep, hair crushed against one side of his head, pillow creases and drool stains covering his cheek, and Soonyoung would still experience the irrational urge to point at him and announce to anyone nearby willing to listen: Look how pretty he is.

It’s almost a universally known fact at this point.

Thankfully, Soonyoung has no boundary for compliments when it comes to his boyfriend.

YOU’RE THE BEST :Soonyoung

Dongwoo: You’re welcome, hyung.

TELL HIM I SAID GOOD LUCK :Soonyoung

Dongwoo: You can text him, lol.

HE WON’T RESPOND ☹️ :Soonyoung

Dongwoo: Fine.

THANK YOUUUUU :Soonyoung

Soonyoung lies down again, zooming into the photo again shamelessly.

He remains unaware of the fact that his actions have consequences.

Severe consequences.

The thing with Jihoon is he has a keen sense for knowing something is wrong when that something in question involves Soonyoung.

Soonyoung smiles with his mouth leaning slightly to the left? A tragedy occurred.

Soonyoung laughs two ‘ha-ha’s too short? An incident is eating at his mind.

Soonyoung kisses him three times instead of five before they go to sleep? The world is ending.

(Although, military life has rendered his knowledge of the last fact completely useless, but he assumes the world at least hates them somehow.)

Jihoon had gotten scarily good at reading all of Soonyoung’s tells though he would never admit it. Because then, admitting it would mean admitting the fact that he had watched Soonyoung long enough—loved him for even longer—to know when something was bothering him, and he did not want to make Soonyoung’s ego bigger than it already is if the tiger-loving moron found out somehow.

But something is different this time.

Jihoon doesn’t know what it is exactly. Soonyoung isn’t there, but Jihoon’s spidey-senses are tingling with the nagging feeling that something is deeply and undoubtedly wrong.

He’s entering the preparation area behind the stage with two members of his unit, bowing in greeting to another group who had already gathered there. Then he notices a soldier in a taekwondo uniform glance at him once. Then twice. Then again, because apparently he thought the first two glances were discreet enough.

Now this in itself isn’t exactly anything worth noticing. Public military events like this usually create ways for people to cross paths without realizing. He has met countless of personnel through passing and other joint schedules. Perhaps they had met before and Jihoon did not remember. So, he decides to think nothing of it.

Then the soldier leans back toward the person in a matching taekwondo uniform standing beside him and whispers something in his ear.

Jihoon instinctively straightens.

Okay.

That part is a little weirder, but not entirely out of the ordinary. He’s been an idol for so long, seen people talking about him through interviews and variety shows, and has seen the way fans stare at him while giggling behind their banners and hands. It did not mean a bad thing, not necessarily. 

The soldiers he has met in the military are all friendly. He had become friends with his own brigade quite quickly. Soldiers in other areas have also been nice enough in passing, bowing politely or smiling kind enough that Jihoon has no reason to believe he’s made an enemy of anyone without knowing.

But something feels off.

“What is it, hyung?” one of his soldiers question.

Jihoon looks at him, then back at the soldiers who are now talking solely with hand gestures and facial expressions. It would be almost impressive if Jihoon had not been just a little concerned.

“They’re staring,” he says simply.

His teammate glances over. “Why? Because you’re an idol?”

“I don’t know,” Jihoon shrugs. “Maybe.”

Then, as if sensing him staring, both soldiers look toward him.

The first soldier’s eyes widen, his mouth opening as if to say something. Then the soldier beside him nudges him with his elbow with a warning look on his face, causing the first soldier to snap his mouth shut immediately and straighten.

Jihoon tilts his head in question, but he can’t exactly ask what’s wrong when he doesn’t even know them. The only information he can deduce is that, judging by their taekwondo uniforms, they are part of Soonyoung’s team. Perhaps they recognize him as Soonyoung’s fellow member, or perhaps the first soldier has a family member who’s a fan of their group.

The thought makes sense in Jihoon’s mind, although it does not entirely reassure him.

Both soldiers bow.

Jihoon bows back.

The two soldiers walk to a different part of the preparation area, whispering and nudging each other furiously. At one point, the first soldier looks back, then abruptly looks away when he notices Jihoon still watching.

Jihoon purses his lips.

Now that’s weird.

He can handle critique. He’s been a producer for years and has faced rejections on demos he thought had potential to be title tracks. He has had people criticize his every move on social media even when they didn’t know him, and has even gotten into countless arguments with his members regarding his work habits and unhealthy reliance on cola. 

Yet something about that interaction makes alarm bells ring in his head.

He’s still trying to figure out what he had done to leave such an impression when another soldier approaches him cautiously. He is also wearing a taekwondo uniform, though he looks visibly younger than the two soldiers from earlier.

“Sergeant Lee?” he greets carefully, dipping his head in greeting.

Jihoon bows politely. “Hello.”

The soldier’s face brightens immediately, perhaps not expecting Jihoon to sound so friendly. The sight of it reminds Jihoon oddly of Soonyoung. Perhaps he misses his boyfriend more than he’d like to admit.

“So you’re the one we always hear about!” the soldier continues.

Jihoon blinks, tilting his head slightly in confusion. “Excuse me?”

The younger soldier seems to realize too late that whatever thought existed inside his head three seconds ago was not meant to escape. His eyes widen, and he reaches up automatically to slap both his hands over his mouth as though it is not already too late.

“Hear about through what?” Jihoon questions, eyes narrowing. “And who’s ‘we’?”

The soldier lowers his hands and leans in, whispering, “You don’t know?”

Now Jihoon is paranoid. “Know what?” he demands. 

The soldier’s mouth drops open.

Jihoon feels like he’s missing something incredibly important.

Before the soldier can answer, perhaps to deny everything he confessed, another soldier comes lumbering over and swings an arm around his comrade, bowing in greeting. He’s gigantic, perhaps the same height as Mingyu if not taller. 

Jihoon recognizes him the most out of all the soldiers acting weird around him. He’s been in some of the videos circulating around social media containing performances of the taekwondo team. Soonyoung had sent him dozens of photos of him posing with his team, and this guy smiling at him has been in most of them. If Soonyoung had an older brother, perhaps he could pass with that face of his—soft, bright, and nearly the exact same eye smile. 

“Hello, Sergeant Lee,” the soldier greets. 

“Hello,” Jihoon nods politely.

“I apologize if our team has been acting strange. My name is Dongwoo,” he says. “I work with Soonyoungie-hyung in the taekwondo unit. This one here is Dakyung. I hope he hasn’t said anything rude.” He gestures to the guy next to him. 

“Not rude necessarily,” Jihoon says, almost cautiously. “But what does he mean I’m the one you always hear about?”

Dongwoo looks down at Dakyung.

Dakyung looks back up at him.

Jihoon’s eyes flicker between them suspiciously.

Then, before Dongwoo can drag them both away, presumably with some lame excuse of needing to prepare for the stage, Dakyung blurts, “Soonyoungie-hyung talks about you all the time.”

Jihoon stills.

Dongwoo drags a hand down his face.

“…He does?” Jihoon asks.

Dakyung continues with, “Yeah, everyone in our team knows you as hyung’s pretty boy,” because apparently all reason leaves once the first part escapes.

A strange silence falls so profoundly that Jihoon can hear crew moving equipment across the stage. The distant voices of fans who had come to watch him still travel through the air, melding together with the nearby conversations happening of fellow soldiers happening around them. It is all evidence that time is still moving forward.

Jihoon does not move.

Dongwoo shuts his eyes tightly, looking like the statement had physically pained him.

Dakyung slaps his hands over his mouth again as though he had not just revealed yet another incriminating thing. It would’ve been more impressive if said incriminating thing did not involve calling Jihoon Soonyoung’s “pretty boy.”

“Soonyoung’s—” Jihoon’s voice comes out strangled. “Your team knows me as—”

“Soonyoungie-hyung says good luck, by the way,” Dongwoo cuts in frantically, as if it will prevent the situation from turning worse. “He wanted me to tell you.”

Jihoon stares at him. “Good luck for what?” he asks.

“The performance.”

Oh, right.

Jihoon only nods, momentarily forgetting the fact that they are only meeting because of a performance to begin with. It is not like he did not want to perform in the first place. He misses the stage actually, but it would seem that there is another pressing matter he needs to address before then.

“The performance,” he repeats, and Dongwoo nods eagerly. “The performance where I’m meeting the team Soonyoung is working with, come to find out I’ve been known as his pretty boy this entire time.”

Dongwoo looks up at the sky, waiting for some sort of celestial being to descend from the heavens and shield him from suspicion.

“This is your fault,” he whispers to Dakyung. “Soonyoungie-hyung is going to kill us.”

Dakyung’s expression shifts to guilt for a brief moment. Then, gradually, his expression begins changing with uncertainty. Then, slyly. Then lastly, resignation, as though he has already accepted the fact that he has royally fucked up one too many times and decided he might as well go big or go home.

Jihoon watches every single expression happen.

“We know you as hyung’s pretty boy,” Dakyung repeats.

Jihoon stares at him.

Even before they had started dating, Soonyoung had always been particularly open about his affections for Jihoon. He will talk about anything that interests or concerns him, and he will do so straight from the bottom of his heart. Unfortunately, this does not translate particularly well for Jihoon when he becomes the main topic of Soonyoung’s conversations, because Soonyoung is almost painfully loud about him in ways Jihoon has learned to deal with long ago.

He just hadn’t been aware how loud Soonyoung had been about him around people he doesn’t even know.

Before he can open his mouth to respond, another voice pops up and chimes, “Oh, there you guys are!”

All three of them turn around to see yet another member of the taekwondo demonstration team walking up to them. He’s fairly tall yet lean, sporting a bright heart-shaped smile. His bright eyes, upon seeing Jihoon, widen drastically.

Oh no.

Jihoon feels an impending sense of doom quickly approaching.

“Sergeant Lee,” the third soldier greets with a bow. “Nice to finally meet you in person. I’m Jeonghee from the Army Taekwondo Demonstration Team.”

“You know me,” Jihoon says plainly. He does not need to question how anymore, because clearly a certain someone had been talking about him while he’d been in no place to retaliate.

Jeonghee nods, eyes flickering between him, Dongwoo, and Dakyung uncertainly. He must sense the tension lingering between them, because he begins tentatively backing away with his hands raised in the air as if he hadn’t just made this his problem too.

“I should come back later,” he says quietly.

Jihoon stares him down. The expression on his face must’ve been terrifying, because Jeonghee automatically halts before he can move three steps, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“One of you,” he says calmly, and the three soldiers flinch as he continues, “is going to explain to me why exactly I am known as Soonyoung’s pretty boy.”

Dakyung, the main cause of this situation, blurts, “Because hyung calls you pretty all the time.”

It takes an embarrassingly long time for the words to register in Jihoon’s brain. It is not as though Soonyoung complimenting him is the weirdest thing. In fact, it is probably the most sane thing about their relationship if you ask him. But the mental image of Soonyoung going around telling his comrades he’s pretty makes Jihoon realize there is perhaps more to this than what meets the eye, and he has his ways of getting to the bottom of things when it interests him enough.

“So he tells you?” His voice sounds faint even to his own ears.

“Yeah,” Dakyung continues, ignoring Dongwoo and Jeonghee’s withering glares. “He showed us pictures of you once and kept saying, ‘Look how pretty my Jihoonie is.’”

“Twice,” Jeonghee mutters unhelpfully.

“More than twice,” Dongwoo corrects, even more so.

Jihoon’s face burns with mortification.

“Oh! Are we talking about how gone Soonyoungie-hyung is for Sergeant Lee?” Another soldier appears out of nowhere and joins the conversation, sliding an arm around Jeonghee. “Did you tell him about the rehearsal video?”

Jihoon’s dread deepens. “What video?”

“Woojae,” both Dongwoo and Jeonghee hiss.

“What video?” Jihoon demands again.

“Soonyoungie-hyung showed us a video of you singing to him in the rehearsal room,” Dakyung supplies. “It was back when you two were rehearsing for your unit comeback.”

“Dakyung!” Dongwoo and Jeonghee exclaim.

“He asked!”

Jihoon remembers that night. 

Soonyoung had decided to stay back long after their backup dancers had left after a particularly grueling rehearsal. He wanted their comeback to be the best it could possibly be, and made the insane decision of running through their choreography for what felt like hundreds of times. Then, after nearly two hours, he finally gave in to the exhaustion and collapsed against the mirrors.

Jihoon, who had stayed behind with him because someone needed to make sure Soonyoung wasn’t going to do something reckless, had sat beside him quietly. He’d taken Soonyoung’s sweaty head into his lap, ignored Soonyoung’s request for a kiss to help him energize, and promptly took his phone out to play some soft music to fill the quietness.

Soonyoung had gone silent, too worried about their comeback to speak, and too exhausted to put on a mask he no longer needed when it was just him and Jihoon.

Jihoon knew that.

So he’d decided to comfort Soonyoung the only way he knew how, and one of the many ways Soonyoung could understand him best—by singing.

He hadn’t done it consciously, which was perhaps the embarrassing thing. Him and Soonyoung had gotten so attuned over the fifteen years they’ve known each other that their bodies simply relinquished whatever boundaries remained and decided their safe spaces were wherever the other person happened to be.

That night, Jihoon became his safe space in the practice room.

He just didn’t know Soonyoung had recorded him.

This wouldn’t be a problem normally, but if Soonyoung had been in his lap while he recorded Jihoon singing, then the angle was most definitely unflattering.

“That was meant to be private,” he tells Dakyung with horror.

“We’ve only seen it once,” Jeonghee tries reasoning.

“Hyung replayed it six times actually,” Woojae chirps unhelpfully.

“Oh my god,” Jihoon mutters under his breath, closing his eyes.

“If it makes you feel any better, your voice is really pretty, Sergeant Lee,” Dakyung offers. His words admittedly do nothing to quell Jihoon’s embarrassment, because now all he can hear when someone says “pretty” is the fact Soonyoung calls him his “pretty boy” around his team when Jihoon isn’t there to shut him up, but he appreciates the sentiment anyway. “Hyung always bragged about your voice sounding like an angel’s. He’s really proud.”

Jihoon is going to kill Soonyoung.

Lovingly, of course.

When he opens his eyes, he can see that all the taekwondo team members are smiling now. Even Dongwoo and Jeonghee seem to have given up all reasoning which, in Jihoon’s opinion, is considerably worse than if they had still been trying to preserve Soonyoung’s dignity.

Not that Soonyoung had any to begin with when Jihoon is concerned, but that’s besides the point.

“He especially likes your hands,” Woojae comments.

Jihoon stares at him. “My…hands,” he echoes.

Woojae nods. “He talks about your hands a lot.”

“Why?”

Everyone makes the wise decision of not answering.

Jihoon decides this is their way of telling him he does not need to know. Judging by the sudden awkwardness, he isn’t sure if he even wants to know.

Another soldier from the taekwondo team walks past, sees the little group they had formed, and continues on. Jihoon’s relief barely lasts even a second until the soldier does a double-take. He pauses, stares at Jihoon for a moment, then walks backward as realization hits him that Jihoon is, in fact, a person he knows by association of one Kwon Soonyoung.

“Sergeant Lee,” he greets. Jihoon is starting to hate that name. “Whoa! I finally got to meet hyung’s baby!”

Jihoon’s head snaps to him so fast he feels something crick.

The other four soldiers look at the newcomer like they’re looking at a final boss of a video game. Funnily enough, as though all the things before had just been the tip of the iceberg, all of them seem to possess varying levels of terror across each of their expressions.

“What?” Jihoon whispers.

The newcomer freezes.

Another profound silence falls upon them. 

Dongwoo and Jeonghee are staring at the newcomer with their lives flashing before their eyes. Dakyung and Woojae are looking back and forth between Jihoon and their fellow comrade like they’re watching a ping-pong match and waiting to see who’ll get a foul first. Jihoon stares at the newcomer with an expression akin to dumbfoundedness. The newcomer stares at Jihoon with equal parts regret and panic, looking more and more like he wants to run away with every passing second.

Jihoon regains his voice after a long time. “I’m Soonyoung’s what?”

“Nothing,” the newcomer says quickly. 

“No. No, you said it,’ Jihoon says, demanding, “Say it again. I’m Soonyoung’s what?”

The newcomer looks toward Jeonghee and Dongwoo, apparently seeking assistance.

“You’re dead, Jaesung,” Dongwoo whispers.

“Hyung is going to kill you,” Jeonghee adds unhelpfully.

Jaesung turns to Jihoon miserably.

Jihoon waits.

“...His baby,” Jaesung says meekly after realizing Jihoon is not going to budge. His head drops in defeat. “You’re Soonyoungie-hyung’s baby.”

“Why,” Jihoon’s voice comes out flat, “am I Soonyoung’s baby, exactly?”

“It’s what hyung calls you,” Woojae says, apparently intending to help when, in actuality, he is making the situation worse than it already is. 

Jihoon crosses his arms. “He calls me Jihoonie.”

“Only when you’re around.”

Jihoon stills at the implication. He did not think the situation could still go any further downhill than it already is. Now he is beginning to realize that he has not even reached the bottom. He wonders if he is even halfway through the mess Soonyoung had unknowingly gotten himself into.

“Only when I’m around,” Jihoon repeats. Then, carefully asks, “And what does he call me when I’m not around?”

All five soldiers—when the hell did it become five?—look at each other, daring someone to be brave enough to say something. Jihoon becomes impatient after four seconds. 

“You already admitted other things,” he points out. “Might as well say it.”

That opens the flood gates.

“Baby,” Woojae blurts, abandoning all reason. “I mean, now you know, but he calls you baby when he’s bragging about you. Says things like, ‘My baby can play at least five instruments’ or ‘My baby is so good at dancing.’”

Jihoon’s arms fall away from his chest.

“There’s also special person,” Jeonghee points out, apparently deciding more evidence is needed. “That usually comes out when he’s feeling upset about something and you happen to text him at the right moment. He always calls you the person who knows him best.”

Oh.

That’s…

Cute.

Perhaps Jihoon’s spidey-senses about Soonyoung are stronger than he thought. The thought makes a warm, humiliating, and deeply affectionate feeling unfurl inside Jihoon’s chest. His lips tug up unconsciously, though not subtly enough for the other five soldiers not to notice.

They glance at each other, sensing the situation is not as dangerous now.

“What else does he say?” Jihoon asks despite himself.

That does it.

Everything Soonyoung has ever said about him in what he clearly believed—and probably still believes—to be a safe environment comes pouring out without his knowledge. 

Jihoon had expected more. He just did not realize how much more there still was to Soonyoung’s affections. It’s endless apparently, because it would seem that Soonyoung talks about him every chance he gets.

He talks about Jihoon during warm-ups, and brags about how Jihoon can do a hundred and ten push-ups in two minutes. Then he’ll proceed to use that as a motivational goal for his own team before they run drills, which results in effectively killing any ounce of motivation they possessed beforehand.

He talks about Jihoon during meals, and criticizes the fact that Jihoon considers a plain bowl of rice and cola a proper meal. He has also apparently shown everyone on his team a picture of Jihoon eating raw anchovies during a filming, as if Jihoon needs more people judging him for liking dried fish.

He talks about Jihoon after practice, and proceeds to show videos no one had asked for of Jihoon dancing in the practice room with Soonyoung long after everyone had left.

He talks about Jihoon when someone mentions music, and makes overbearing declarations of how his boyfriend is the best producer in the world and can come up with a melody for a song in under ten minutes.

And, after hearing that Soonyoung had apparently described Jihoon’s endearing roundabout way of admitting something is good without wanting to seem too chalant, Jihoon did not think there could be more.

Oh, how deeply wrong he is.

Soonyoung had once spent an entire bus ride explaining that Jihoon gets cute whenever he’s sleepy, because his eyes become softer and his voice gets lower and apparently—to Jihoon’s horror—more affectionate.

Soonyoung had shown them photographs of food Jihoon had taken and sent to him with the thought of eating those same foods together whenever they happened to be free.

Soonyoung had, embarrassingly, forced multiple of his teammates to listen to their entire discography, because “Jihoonie composed and produced everything, so we should stream it!”

Jihoon drags his hands down his face in disbelief when he hears that.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately on behalf of Soonyoung. “He doesn’t know when to stop.”

“I think it’s cute,” Dongwoo comments. “When he’s tired, it gets worse though.”

Jihoon immediately becomes suspicious. “What do you mean, worse?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dakyung agrees. “He gets more affectionate.”

Jihoon looks at him, unsure whether he is confused enough to indulge his curiosity, or exhausted enough not to care. After all, what more can be revealed with all this information out in the open now?

“There’s a difference?” he asks.

All five soldiers nod, much to his horror.

“If practice runs late, he starts saying things like, ‘Jihoonie would tell me to sleep,’” Jeonghee explains.

Jaesung adds, “And if he’s eating something he knows you don’t like, he’d say, ‘Jihoonie would hate this.’”

“Don’t forget that one time Woojae had to help him get a knot out of his back,” Dakyung says, demonstrating what Jihoon assumes is a representation of Soonyoung stretching. “He said, ‘Jihoonie would say I don’t stretch enough.’”

“Because he doesn’t,” Jihoon says before he can stop himself.

All five soldiers give him knowing grins.

Jihoon pauses, then glares at them as his ears warm. Although, as embarrassing as this entire thing is, he can’t help but smile, because beneath the embarrassment is a feeling strong enough to make his chest ache.

Their lives have been strange ever since they enlisted. Their schedules have gotten more rigid than ever. Their calls are shorter than either of them wants. Talking in person becomes an event they need to sign up for rather than a leisure activity they can just do because they want to. Texting each other consists of rushed messages sent between obligations and sometimes, forgetting to text back entirely.

Although Jihoon does not want to admit it, there have been times where he stayed up, unable to fall asleep because he’d been wondering whether Soonyoung could feel the distance between them as sharply as he does.

He knows Soonyoung loves him. There has never been any doubt about it, especially not when Jihoon has now found out just how much. 

But that’s the thing—knowing all these things privately and suddenly discovering that Soonyoung carries him everywhere is different. Apparently, he exists in every corner of Soonyoung’s life even when they aren’t physically together.

The thought settles warmly beneath his ribs.

That is, until Dakyung ruins it with, “Also, every time you send him a selca, he kisses his phone when he thinks nobody is looking.”

Jihoon’s face falls.

“W-Wha—“ he chokes.

The entire group erupts loud enough for other soldiers within a fifteen foot radius to look over, and Jihoon is still trying miserably to hack his lung out, fist pounding uselessly against his chest. If there is anything he expected to hear out of the entirety of this ridiculous conversation, Soonyoung kissing his photos is absolutely not one of them.

“You’re lying,” he says, because he refuses to believe his boyfriend is that embarrassing.

“I wish.” It’s Dongwoo who confirms it, which is terrible. In the span of the half hour they’ve gotten to know each other, Jihoon automatically rules him as the most sane person thus far and therefore, most likely to tell the truth. “He did it during lunch once.”

“Oh!” Jaesung exclaims, apparently having thought of something else. “There was also that one time we were all sleeping in the barracks, and I ended up waking up because hyung was giggling to himself. So I look over and he’s zooming in on a picture of your eyes because he thinks your eye mole is cute. He kissed that one too.”

Jihoon’s face burns so much that he briefly questions whether summer had extended past August. His hand comes up to touch just below his left eye briefly, and he quickly lets it drop when he feels just how hot his cheeks are.

“That’s so—” His voice cracks. He shuts his eyes in mortification.

Dongwoo, apparently sensing the damage has been done, says, “Okay, that’s enough. Who knows what Soonyoungie-hyung will do if he finds out we outed him like this—”

“Oh, he won’t do anything,” Jihoon cuts in, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Soonyoung’s team look at each other, almost fearfully.

“Sergeant Lee,” Jeonghee says carefully. “You’re not going to tell on us, are you?”

“How old are we, six? Don’t worry, he’s not going to know anything,” Jihoon scoffs, grinning now. “Actually, I’m grateful to you guys for providing me with valuable information. You don’t understand how long he’s been annoying me thinking he has the upper hand.”

Jihoon watches realization cross their faces one by one. It’s glorious.

“I have more stories to tell if you want, hyung!” Dakyung says, slipping into informal language amidst his excitement. His eyes widen, and he slaps his hands over his mouth. “I—I mean—”

“You can call me hyung,” Jihoon tells them. “I am in your debt, actually. Thank you for your hard work.”

Dakyung’s eyes practically sparkle.

“Then, what are you planning to do?” Dongwoo asks cautiously.

Jihoon pulls his phone out to check the time, then pockets it casually. 

“You’ll see,” he says ominously, turning around. “Now, get ready. Our performance starts soon.”

The moment he walks out of earshot, all five soldiers explode into chaos.

Dongwoo shuts his eyes and groans, “Dakyung, this is your fault.”

Dakyung either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t seem to care. Possibly both, because all he says is, “Sergeant Lee is my hyung now!”

“What do you think he’s going to do?” Woojae asks, looking more excited than concerned. 

“I don’t know,” Jeonghee murmurs. “But I feel worried for Soonyoungie-hyung.”

Jaesung, folding his hands behind his head, scoffs, “Hey, maybe he’ll finally get what he deserves after making us attempt to do a hundred and ten push-ups like Jihoon-hyung.”

Dongwoo points at him accusingly. “Hey, don’t come crying if Soonyoungie-hyung finds out what you told Jihoon-hyung.”

“I didn’t even do anything.”

“You told Jihoon-hyung about baby!”

“That was Woojae!”

Woojae, offended by the sudden name drop, exclaims, “You mentioned it first!”

“And then you explained it more than I did!” Jaesung shoots back. Then he whirls around, pointing a finger at Dakyung, and says, “And why am I being bashed when it was this idiot who told Jihoon-hyung about Soonyoungie-hyung kissing his phone?!”

Dakyung doesn’t even bat an eye, countering with, “You’re the one who talked about the night you saw hyung giggling at Jihoonie-hyung’s picture.”

“Yeah, after you mentioned it!”

As Jaesung and Dakyung begin bickering, with Woojae occasionally chiming in to put in his own two cents despite not contributing anything helpful, Jeonghee leans over to Dongwoo and whispers, “Do you think Soonyoung-hyung will be okay?”

Dongwoo stares at Jihoon’s back, then at the smile still lingering on his face, and sighs in resignation.

“I hope so.”

Soonyoung has absolutely no idea that the enemy has already breached defensive lines. It’s even worse when he finds out his enemies turn out to be the people he trusts the most to handle confidential information. If he understood that enemies had already infiltrated from within the base, then perhaps he could’ve prepared.

Yet, he has no idea his life has been ruined by the time the performance starts.

Soonyoung almost launches himself upright from his bed again, nearly dozing off during the opening ceremony. He turns both his volume and brightness up to the max to ensure he doesn’t miss a single detail. 

His Jihoonie is performing, after all. 

The cheering from the broadcast begins subsiding just as the music starts. 

Despite knowing Jihoon’s part doesn’t come until much later, Soonyoung finds himself looking for him instinctively, eyes scanning briefly over the performers to make sure. His eyes pass over several of his own team members with recognition; Dongwoo, who is easily distinguishable due to his height; Jeonghee, who is performing on the side; Woojae, who he somehow catches standing in the back with Dakyung standing next to him, and Jaesung, who had done some acrobatics from right to left.

Every single person in his team is wearing his birthday merch hat that he had sent prior. Watching his team members work so hard to make the stage what it is now, performing their best like they promised him they would—he can’t help but feel a little emotional. His chest aches at the sight, pride and melancholy tangling together.

He should be there with them, but there’s no use crying over spilled milk anymore. All he can do is cheer from the sidelines, entrusting his team to give it their all.

He takes screenshots of his team members to send to the group chat later, manages to shut his phone off three separate times attempting to do so, and nearly loses his mind when he has to watch two unskippable ads after each attempt. The loading screen is almost enough to make him lose his composure completely.

“Oh my GOD,” he says furiously, tapping the screen as if it will help the broadcast load faster. “LOAD, YOU BASTARD. This STUPID—GOD—”

It takes five seconds too long before the broadcast returns. Thankfully, by some sort of serendipitous fate, it comes back just in time for Soonyoung to hear the music change into a familiar drum rhythm. His team all transition out of frame, and in comes another group of soldiers in black uniform. 

His earlier fury vanishes, replaced with excitement.

His eyes sweep over the soldiers intently. He sees a few of his fellow idols near the center and he perks up a bit, anticipation brewing in his chest until—

There.

Jihoon enters the frame, and everything else disappears.

Soonyoung has watched Jihoon perform thousands of times. He’s been with him on stage, watched him sing his solos from backstage, had taken an active role in being moral support during rehearsals in their practice room, heard him sing in the comforts of his studio, watched social media clips going viral amongst their fans, and listened to voice memos sent to him at 2:00 a.m. asking for Soonyoung’s opinion because a melody sounded weird.

It never matters, because Soonyoung still reacts as if he’s seeing him perform for the first time.

Jihoon steps into center position, and the sight makes Soonyoung smile without realizing.

“There you are,” he murmurs affectionately.

His happiness doesn’t last very long because as it turns out, the camerawork is horrible.

It’s not actually that bad, but whoever is operating the camera keeps panning to other soldiers, and Soonyoung kind of wants to strangle that person right now. He understands that there are other people waiting to see different soldiers and other idols perform, but he is currently not one of those people.

All he cares about is watching his boyfriend, Lee Jihoon.

Everyone should be watching his boyfriend, Lee Jihoon.

The camera flips to Jihoon again, and Soonyoung watches without blinking, mouth open in awe.

Every movement, every shift in expression—Jihoon’s confidence hasn’t changed in the slightest. For someone who has stayed away from the stage and cameras for nearly a year and a half, he performs as if he hadn’t left idol life in the first place. Lee Jihoon, who had become Sergeant Lee in the span of only a few seconds, has complete and total command of the stage.

A feral feeling rises in Soonyoung’s chest.

Because his boyfriend looks ridiculously good.

He has always noticed how buff Jihoon is, but something about seeing him perform for the first time in a while makes the realization hit differently. He looks broader and much stronger somehow. He has an excuse though—not that he needs one for thinking his own boyfriend is ridiculously hot—because he hasn’t seen Jihoon in person in days, and he is not about to be ashamed for thinking so. 

But shit, god damn.

Something predatory settles smugly inside him.

That’s his boyfriend.

His man.

The camera pans away to a different soldier again, and Soonyoung finally releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He relaxes slightly as he keeps watching, perking whenever he catches a glimpse of Jihoon amidst the terrible camerawork and different angles.

Before he knows it, the broadcast ends. Almost immediately, he opens his group chat with his demonstration team and begins typing:

GUYS :Soonyoung

HE LOOKS SO GOOD :Soonyoung

DID YOU GUYS SEE HIM :Soonyoung

Nobody responds. If they’re helping to clean up the stage and put away equipment, then they probably wouldn’t reply for a while. This does not deter Soonyoung’s eagerness in the slightest, because he simply opens his social media app in search of clips he can rewatch and pictures he can save for later.

Their fans are, thankfully, fast. There are already clips being reposted and pictures being uploaded on several accounts. He likes several posts containing photos of members of his demonstration team. He reposts a few containing videos of fellow idols while they’re in the center. He saves the ones including Jihoon for future reference.

He’s staring at a picture of Jihoon licking his teeth for an embarrassingly long time when his phone vibrates with a banner notification. He saves the photo quickly and taps the notification before it can disappear.

Dakyung: we were there hyung

Dongwoo: Hello to you too.

Jeonghee: I guess we’re chopped meat then?

NO YOU GUYS DID AMAZING :Soonyoung

I’M PROUD OF YOU :Soonyoung

Woojae: I FEEL LIKE THIS IS PITY

I’M BEING SERIOUS :Soonyoung

BUT ALSO DID YOU  SEE HIM :Soonyoung

MY BABY IS SO TALENTED :Soonyoung

Three people react to that message with laughing emoticons, but Soonyoung doesn’t care. 

This, he realizes later, is his first mistake.

DOES ANYONE HAVE PICTURES :Soonyoung

Several long minutes later, the group chat begins flooding with pictures of his demonstration team posing together. There’s a pose of them doing the horanghae sign and wearing his birthday merch hat. Other photos include them holding up the peace sign or leaning back with their arms crossed.

Soonyoung flicks through the photos, an unconscious smile tugging at his lips. He reacts with a heart on all the images, his thumb gradually swiping faster and faster until he realizes he’s looking for something else. Or rather, someone else.

He types:

I LOVE YOU GUYS BUT :Soonyoung

DOES ANYONE HAVE PICS OF JIHOONIE :Soonyoung

It takes another several minutes before another influx of photos flood the chat room. This time, much to his surprise, there are a bunch of photos of his team actually posing side-by-side with Jihoon rather than candids of Jihoon himself. Soonyoung’s face brightens with happiness anyway.

This becomes his second mistake.

He types:

YOU MET HIM!!! :Soonyoung

Woojae: WE DIDDDDD

Woojae: He’s pretty actually

Woojae: *pretty nice

Jeonghee: 😂

I TOLD YOU HE’S NOT SCARY :Soonyoung

HE’S JUST SHY :Soonyoung

Soonyoung goes back to flicking through the photos, not thinking much of the conversation. 

This is his third mistake.

There’s photos of Jihoon standing next to several members of the demonstration team. Some include him with his arms crossed. Most photos contain him holding up a peace sign. In all the photos though, Jihoon is wearing the adorable little smile that can barely be considered a smile, but just enough for his dimples to poke through.

A grin spreads across Soonyoung’s face without him realizing.

He zooms in on each photo, practically dissecting every detail of his boyfriend with his eyes. Then, once satisfied, he saves each photo to his gallery. He then proceeds to save duplicates of each one, because one is never enough and he may need more for safe keeping—for quality-assurance purposes, of course.

He’s about to text back when Dakyung texts:

Dakyung: theyre leaving now but

Dakyung: the fansites are soooo fast hyung

Dakyung: have you seen the latest photos?

Soonyoung frowns and texts back:

Wdym??? :Soonyoung

There’s more photos? :Soonyoung

Dakyung: [image attached]

Dakyung: [image attached]

Dakyung: [image attached]

Dakyung: [image attached]

The next few pictures take up the entirety of the chat room because there are only four now. It takes a few seconds too long for the photos to register in Soonyoung’s brain, because—

Oh.

Oh.

He nearly drops his phone.

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mouth drying as a shrill, strangled scream erupts from his throat.

Jihoon looks hot.

No, scratch that.

He always looks hot, but this is perhaps a level of hotness and buffness Soonyoung had not prepared for in all their five years of dating each other, and it fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately, depending on how one sees it—checks all of Soonyoung’s boxes.

Short undercut? Hell yeah.

Dog tag? Oh, absolutely.

Gray shirt tucked in black pants? Lord have mercy.

And Soonyoung would like to reiterate once again that he has always noticed how buff Jihoon is. Jihoon had, after all, been the one to help him train during their workout sessions. He had been the one to demonstrate all the different exercises Soonyoung does now. He had, on one occasion, done nearly fifty pull-ups in under three minutes, which Soonyoung considers a diabolical testament to his strength.

But this…

This is incredibly damaging to Soonyoung’s mental health.

The photos are crisp and clean, clearly the work of a godsend fansite. The photos themselves seem to have been taken only several seconds apart from each other, but the missed moments in which said fansite could have taken more photos is the least of Soonyoung’s concern right now.

Because Jihoon’s chest enters the frame before he does.

And it’s big.

God, Soonyoung doesn’t think he’s seen anything bigger. 

That is not saying a lot considering the only small thing about Jihoon is his height, but that is a topic he has the decency to avoid because right now, there are other pressing matters to attend to, and one of them is resisting the urge to hop in a cab back to the military base solely to press his face against Jihoon’s chest and suffocate happily, knee be damned.

God, he should see Jihoon right now.

The world is far too cruel.

In the midst of the crisis he is still having, his phone had begun buzzing nonstop with notifications from the group chat. He had forgotten to respond, too distracted by his own boyfriend’s chest to think properly.

Dongwoo: Geez. I know he’s Grade 1 in fitness but this is a different level.

Jeonghee: How much does he bench again?

Dakyung: he could probably bench hyung no?

Woojae: LMFAO

Jaesung: Compared to him, I feel like a twig

Jaesung: [gif attached]

Jeonghee: Is hyung alive? 😂

Dongwoo: I can practically hear him flatlining.

Jaesung: SAVE US FROM THE PUSH-UPS

Jaesung: [gif attached]

GUGYS :Soonyoung

HIS CHEWST :Soonyoung

ITS THE SIZE OF A COUNTYR :Soonyoung

Dongwoo: There he is.

Jeonghee: That took a while

GUYS I DONTT HINK YOU UNDERSTASND MY DILEMMA :Soonyoung

Jaesung: I think we understand lol

NO BUT LOOK AT HIM :Soonyoung

Woojae: KINDA IMPOSSIBLE NOT TO TBH

Woojae: IT’S RIGHT IN OUR FACES

EXACLTHY :Soonyoung

I WANSNA SUFFOCAT E IN THEM :Soonyoung

Dakyung: Your special person is very pretty, hyung 🙂

HE IS :Soonyoung

Wait a minute.

Soonyoung rereads Dakyung’s text message once. Then again for good measure, because there is something oddly ominous about the smiley face he put at the end, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

Before he can dwell on it any further, however, a message from Jihoon pops up.

Soonyoung has never tapped on a notification faster in his life.

Jihoon: We finished.

Jihoon: On the bus heading back now.

Soonyoung grins, momentarily forgetting everything he had been worrying about just mere seconds before. He begins typing back far too enthusiastically for someone whose impending doom is rapidly approaching.

JIHOONIE!!! 🖤🖤🖤 :Soonyoung

YOU DID SO WELL :Soonyoung

Jihoon: You watched the whole thing?

DUH :Soonyoung

OF COURSE I DID :Soonyoung

YOU PERFORMED :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Thanks.

Jihoon: It felt a bit weird being back on stage like that but I think I did okay.

OKAY??? :Soonyoung

YOU WERE THE BEST :Soonyoung

TOP IDOL SERIOUSLY :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Idiot.

Yours! 🖤 :Soonyoung

The three dots appear at the bottom, disappears for three seconds, then reappears. This happens twice before Jihoon texts back:

Jihoon: Wish you could’ve been there.

Soonyoung’s expression softens drastically, feeling his chest hollow a bit. His thumbs hover uselessly above his keyboard for a moment, then he types:

Me too 🙁 :Soonyoung

But you did your best for everyone :Soonyoung

I’m proud of you Jihoonie :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Idiot.

WHY AM I AN IDIOT AGAIN :Soonyoung

I compliment you and YOU INSULT ME?? :Soonyoung

Jihoon: No, stupid.

Soonyoung’s thumbs are already typing back fiercely to retaliate, when Jihoon texts back:

Jihoon: I didn’t do it for everyone else.

Jihoon: I did it for you.

Soonyoung stops immediately.

Oh, that’s—

That’s not fair.

He lowers his phone slightly, the words blurring in front of him. It takes him a second to realize his eyes are burning, tears gathering faster than he can blink them away and—

Damn it.

He did not think he was going to get emotional, but apparently hearing Jihoon admit that he had carried Soonyoung with him on that stage—had performed with him in mind even when Soonyoung could not physically be there after they had promised to perform together—is enough to undo him.

His phone buzzes again just as the first tear lands against his arm.

Jihoon: Stop crying.

Soonyoung’s mouth falls open in disbelief and, for one ridiculous moment, he looks around his room to make sure Jihoon isn’t somehow spying on him from several kilometers away.

I’M NOT :Soonyoung

Jihoon: You took too long to respond.

Jihoon: Which means you are.

Soonyoung scowls, finding the situation annoyingly ironic because yes, he is crying and no, he will not admit it.

I SAID I’M NOT :Soonyoung

Jihoon: I know you.

Soonyoung’s scowl deepens despite the rush of affection flooding his chest.

Of course Jihoon knows him. It would be insulting if he didn’t, actually. They had been together for half their lives, seen each other at their best and worse, and yet somehow, the fact does not deter the aching warmth Soonyoung feels at the admission.

Jihoon knows him—knows the way he cries watching commercials involving elderly dogs and children reuniting with their parents. He knows that Soonyoung becomes frighteningly quiet when he’s truly upset and increasingly louder when he’s nervous. He knows that when Soonyoung talks too fast, it usually means there is something else hiding beneath his words because he does not want anyone looking at him too closely.

There should be some sort of regulation against Jihoon knowing him this well, especially when Soonyoung is already emotionally compromised. He will implement that himself if he has to, because the fact that Jihoon can now diagnose his emotional state through a screen is horrifyingly romantic.

Soonyoung hates that he doesn’t mind it.

He sniffs and aggressively wipes beneath one eye before typing back:

FINE :Soonyoung

maybe a little :Soonyoung

Jihoon: See?

OF COURSE I CAN SEE :Soonyoung

I’M THE ONE CRYING :Soonyoung

THIS IS YOUR FAULT :Soonyoung

Jihoon: How is it my fault?

YOU SAID YOU DID IT FOR ME :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Because it’s true

IT’S ROMANTIC :Soonyoung

WHICH SHOULD BE ILLEGAL COMING FROM YOU :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Why?

BECAUSE I’M ALREAYD IMAGINING OUR WEDDING :Soonyoung

Soonyoung hits the send button before the reality of what he texted can fully hit him, and by then it’s already too late. He freezes, eyes straying over to the last two words he texted, then to the typing indicator on the bottom left.

It disappears.

Then reappears.

Soonyouing watches this happen three times, and each time makes him increasingly tense. Before his nerves can get the better of him, he starts typing a follow-up when suddenly—

Jihoon: *Already.

Soonyouing stares at the message for several long seconds, brain struggling to comprehend the fact that, out of everything wrong with what he had just sent, Jihoon had apparently decided the typo was most necessary to point out.

Soonyoung’s reaction is visceral.

Furiously, he types back:

THAT’S WHAT YOU FOCUS ON???? :Soonyoung

I JUST SAID WEDDING :Soonyoung

WEDDING JIHOON :Soonyoung

MARRIAGE :Soonyoung

RINGS :Soonyoung

TAX BENEFITS :Soonyoung

AND YOURE PROOFREADING ME :Soonyoung

There is another long pause, though it is shorter than the one before Jihoon had decided spelling mattered more than their future together.

Then Jihoon types:

Jihoon: I hate typos.

Soonyoung wants to laugh. He also wants to cry. He also wants to pull his hair out, because this is the man he had considered as a potential candidate for marriage. Not that there had been any other candidate to begin with, but that’s besides the point. 

I hate YOU :Soonyoung

Jihoon: You love me enough to consider marriage though.

Soonyoung lets out a strangled, infuriated noise. His fingers are actually shaking against the screen with the effort to not throw his phone out the window out of pure frustration.

Oh, he hates him.

He also loves him enough to consider marriage, apparently.

Before he can type back something snarky, Jihoon adds:

Jihoon: And marriage is usually done with your special person.

Soonyoung slows down.

His thumb twitches uselessly against the screen as he rereads the text slowly, each word refusing to connect to the next. He keeps rereading it as if it will make sense if he repeats them in his head, but it doesn’t really help.

There is something specific about that wording.

Something—

Jihoon: Because your special person is someone who knows you best.

Soonyoung stares at the message.

Why did those words sound familiar?

His mind scrambles, trying to rifle through the mess in his head containing old conversations, text messages, videos, and voice memos for anything he said that sounded even remotely similar. Unfortunately, his mind comes up with the unhelpful image of a tumbleweed bouncing through a desert—empty.

He types back something safe:

OBVIOUSLY it should be someone who knows me best :Soonyoung

Jihoon types back almost immediately:

Jihoon: And that someone is me, apparently.

Soonyoung immediately leaps at the chance.

Well DUH :Soonyoung

Who else would it be? :Soonyoung

Jihoon: So you’d marry me just because I know you best?

Soonyoung frowns at the message, typing back:

Of course not :Soonyoung

You have money :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Fuck you.

Send me the date and time, I’ll come over :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Kwon Soonyoung. 

Soonyoung grins, feeling his shoulders loosen a little. Perhaps there is no reason for him to be paranoid if Jihoon is bickering with him like this. Maybe the earlier messages had simply been a coincidence, and maybe Jihoon really didn’t know anything.

He has no reason to worry.

I’M JOKING :Soonyoung

Of course that’s not your only qualities :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Then what are my qualities?

Fortunately, Soonyoung has had a mental list prepared for this exact moment.

You’re funny when you’re irritated :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Wow, thanks.

I love when you laugh with your whole body :Soonyoung

Jihoon does not respond to that one. Soonyoung keeps going anyway.

I especially like when you become sassy :Soonyoung

I love when you tug my shirt when you’re too shy to ask for a kiss :Soonyoung

Jihoon’s reply comes lightning fast.

Jihoon: I do not do that.

Soonyoung grins.

You do :Soonyoung

You are also my boyfriend :Soonyoung

Jihoon: That is not a quality.

It counts by my standards :Soonyoung

Jihoon: So anything counts if you say it does?

EXACTLY :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Fine.

That settles it.

Soonyoung relaxes back against his pillow then, satisfied. The sudden unnerving feeling he’d gotten earlier was perhaps just his imagination. He had only managed to avoid embarrassment this long simply because he kept his mouth shut about all his affections, so the likelihood of it happening again shouldn’t be too high.

That is, until Jihoon texts:

Jihoon: Then being your pretty boy counts too, right?

Soonyoung freezes. 

He stares at the last two words, feeling his entire world collapse around them. Coldness spreads through his chest. It’s like watching a horror movie, trying to anticipate a jumpscare coming up, and being scared when it happens anyway.

Slowly, he scrolls back up through their messages, eyes immediately finding the messages he had suspected earlier. 

Jihoon: And marriage is usually done with your special person.

Jihoon: Because your special person is someone who knows you best.

Soonyoung rereads all of them again, words belatedly connecting in his mind like puzzle pieces.

There are things a man says in confidence around people he trusts, because he assumes everyone would have the courtesy of letting those things disappear into thin air the moment they leave his mouth. 

There are things spoken because exhaustion fogged brains and loosened tongues after several hours of consecutive training.

There are things said while lying on the floor of the practice room, staring at the ceiling because your boyfriend had not sent a text in the last ten minutes.

There are things murmured late at night when everyone is asleep, because staring at pictures of your boyfriend has become more and more of a replacement to actually seeing your boyfriend in person.

Those things are not meant to be catalogued, preserved, and handed directly as ammunition for other people to use at the first available opportunity.

It should be a universal unspoken rule. That is how functioning friendships work, at least.

Soonyoung suddenly remembers all the things he’d said in confidence around his team.

“He’s my special person.”

“The person who knows me best.”

“He’s so pretty. My pretty boy!”

Tentatively—because against all rational reasoning remaining, perhaps there is still a tiny chance this could all be a coincidence—he types back:

what :Soonyoung

Jihoon’s reply is criminal.

Jihoon: What’s wrong, baby?

Baby.

Soonyoung throws his phone reflexively as if the word had burned him, letting out a shrill scream that becomes strangled halfway through. His phone, thankfully, lands safely in his bed. For a ridiculous moment, he wishes it had broken.

He can regain another phone.

He cannot regain his dignity.

He stares at his phone like it had betrayed him, mind empty. He spends an absurd amount of time completely frozen in place, staring at his now buzzing phone as if it will somehow grow limbs and walk toward him to make him confess his sins.

With bated breath, he grabs his phone and dreadfully flips the screen over.

Jihoon: Baby?

Soonyoung stares at the word.

Absolutely not.

He exits out of the conversation and taps on his group chat with his team, thumb rapidly scrolling upward until he finds what he needs.

Dakyung: Your special person is very pretty, hyung 🙂

There. That smiley face.

Soonyoung has spent enough time supervising his team to understand that everyone has different texting habits. Dongwoo only makes typos when he’s worried about something. Jeonghee uses laughing emoticons even when there’s nothing remotely funny being said. Jaesung loves sending gifs as reactions for dramatic effect. Woojae likes typing in caps almost as much as Soonyoung does.

And Dakyung, who typically types in lowercase and barely any punctuation unless he’s got something up his sleeve, only uses proper punctuation and sends that particular emoticon when he’s trying to act innocent.

Soonyoung sits down slowly, the pain in his knee long forgotten as he flicks back to his conversation with Jihoon. Then he flicks back to his team’s group chat.

No. 

No, surely not.

His soldiers would never—

Actually, they would absolutely out him like that. They have no malicious intent in any way, and Soonyoung should be happy they feel comfortable enough with him to poke fun at him even if he is their superior.

But there’s no way Jihoon would—

Soonyoung pauses that thought.

Because Jihoon absolutely would encourage them if he thought Soonyoung had said or done something embarrassing enough.

Soonyoung types cautiously in the group chat:

Guys. :Soonyoung

The replies come almost immediately.

Dongwoo: uhhpo

Dongwoo: *Uh oh

Dakyung: hyung 🙂

Jeonghee: LMAO

Jaesung: [gif attached]

Woojae: WELCOME BACK HYUNG

Soonyoung’s stomach drops.

What did you guys DO :Soonyoung

The group chat falls silent.

Soonyoung waits for a grand total of fifteen seconds, eyes growing wide with horror the longer the silence stretches. He doesn’t see any typing indicator pop up in the bottom left corner either, which is considerably more concerning than if there had been. 

He begins typing frantically:

NO :Soonyoung

DONT YOU DARE GO QUIET NOW :Soonyoung

WHAT DID YOU GUYS DO :Soonyoung

WHAT DID YOU TELL JIHOON :Soonyoung

Another ten seconds pass before Jaesung types:

Jaesung: Oh now it’s just “Jihoon” huh?

Soonyoung wants to strangle someone. He wants to strangle multiple people actually, but that is most definitely a violation of at least forty different military laws.

JAESUNG :Soonyoung

Dakyung: technically you didnt tell us we couldnt tell him anything 😂

Soonyoung changes his mind. 

He wants to strangle Dakyung.

He calls Dakyung, finger jamming harder than necessary on the call icon. His phone rings four times before abruptly cutting off.

Soonyoung’s mouth drops open.

Did he just…

He calls Dakyung again, waiting. This time, his phone rings twice before it declines.

Soonyoung glares at Dakyung’s contact picture, then decides to call Jaesung, because surely Jaesung will answer him, right?

The first ring does not even finish.

He curses, “You absolute COWARDS—”

He calls Dongwoo next, because at least Dongwoo has proven himself to be the most reliable out of the five of them. Surely his sweet Dongwoo wouldn’t abandon him in a time of need.

His call goes completely unanswered.

Soonyoung begins typing in the group chat, outraged.

YOURE DEAD TO ME :Soonyoung

YOU ALL ARE :Soonyoung

Dakyung: love you too hyung~

Dongwoo: Good luck, hyung!

Soonyoung’s eye twitches, but before he can type back something that would probably result in a demotion, a message from Jihoon pops up. It’s the first time he does not tap on it instantly, but he sees the banner notification anyway.

Jihoon: You alive?

Soonyoung types back reluctantly:

You are speaking to the ghost of Kwon Soonyoung. :Soonyoung

He has ascended to heaven and wishes you well. :Soonyoung

Jihoon: That’s a shame.

Jihoon: We haven’t even had our wedding yet, baby.

Soonyoung inhales so sharply he nearly chokes on air.

This is it.

This is the afterlife.

He has lived a good life. He might have died young, but he accomplished a lot in his thirty years of living. He has eaten well, made good friends, and has lived out his dream of being a well-loved idol. He has no regrets.

Except, perhaps, trusting his team to understand the concept of confidentiality when it comes to how pathetic he is about his boyfriend when said boyfriend isn’t there to witness it.

Until now.

He types back:

STOP :Soonyoung

Jihoon: There you are.

The sentence makes Soonyoung feel warm and soft inside, and for a second, he considers what Jihoon’s expression would be like if he were to say it to his face. His Jihoonie, with that sweet smile and a deceivingly buff and muscular chest—

NO, he thinks to himself furiously. THIS IS NOT THE TIME.

I’M SERIOUS :Soonyoung

Jihoon: About the wedding?

Another strangled noise catches in Soonyoung’s throat. His fingers tremble against the screen, embarrassment and nerves getting the better of him.

NO :Soonyoung

Jihoon: But I was.

Soonyoung stares, mouth dropping open in disbelief. 

Warmth floods his chest without permission, so fast and unexpected that he nearly becomes angry at himself. Then angry at Jihoon, because his boyfriend has a remarkable talent for making fun of him the moment he embarrasses himself. Then angry at his team members, because those unfaithful bastards have just projected him into a mess he isn’t sure he can save himself from. 

His fingers fly across the screen so quickly, he begins making typos again.

THATS :Soonyoung

NO :Soonyoung

WE AR ENOT TLAKING ABOUT THIS RIGH TNOW :Soonyoung

Jihoon: So later then?

LEEE JIHION :Soonyoung

DO NOT DSITRACT ME :Soonyoung

WHAT DID THEY TELL YOU :Soonyoung

The typing indicator appears.

Then it disappears.

Then it reappears.

Soonyoung’s grip tightens so hard into his blanket that his knuckles turn white. He waits exactly two seconds before he decides the suspense is killing him.

JIHOON :Soonyoung

Jihoon: 😂

Soonyoung’s fingers twist violently into his bed.

WHAT :Soonyoung

DID :Soonyoung

THEY :Soonyoung

TELL :Soonyoung

YOU :Soonyoung

The typing indicator appears and stays for what feels like eternity.

Then:

Jihoon: Call me.

Soonyoung stares at the message. His heart has never dropped so fast.

There are certain things that are much safer when said through text, because he can take his time carefully crafting a response, delete anything incriminating before sending it and—the most important thing—no one is there physically to see just how red his face can get whenever humiliation becomes unbearable.

A phone call provides no sort of protection whatsoever. It means hearing Jihoon’s voice in real time, hearing all his knowing hums and teasing lilts. It means Soonyoung cannot spend three minutes thinking of what to say while deciding whether sending a gif would be more feasible than words. It means reactions—Jihoon’s reactions, which will inevitably be smug, and Soonyoung’s reactions, which is basically a natural disaster on its own. 

For once, he thanks every heavenly being above that Jihoon does not like to video call often. Soonyoung would rather swallow his phone whole if this conversation started with a video call.

So, he makes the wise decision.

No. :Soonyoung

His phone rings immediately.

Soonyoung stares at Jihoon’s contact photo filling the screen. 

It had been one of the last photos they had taken together, sometime right before they both enlisted. It is a picture of Jihoon wearing a hood over his bald head and a pair of glasses that were more for decoration than for function. His head had been turned to the side, begrudgingly giving Soonyoung—whose face is only half visible in the picture—a cheek kiss despite his own ears being red.

It is one of Soonyoung’s favorite photos.

It is also, currently, the photo he does not want to see.

“Nope,” he mutters, declining the call.

Two seconds pass before his phone rings again. He declines that one too.

Then it rings a third time.

Soonyoung squeezes his eyes shut, his hand rubbing against his thigh nervously. His lips purse as he tries thinking of all the possible ways their conversation could go. Then he decides that this is useless, because all he can think about is how embarrassing this whole thing is.

It seems that any sort of salvation has abandoned him tonight.

With his phone still vibrating, he lowers himself onto his good knee beside his bed, because something about this position is oddly comforting considering he is about to be emotionally obliterated. Then he stretches his arms out across his mattress, gripping his ringing phone with both hands now. He takes a deep breath, thumb twitching as he hesitates.

The call dies before he can accept it.

Five seconds pass.

Then ten.

For one hopeful moment, Soonyoung thinks his boyfriend has given up. Relief floods his chest so quickly that he nearly sags. He begins typing out a message, presumably to defend himself against the fact that Jihoon would undoubtedly accuse him of being a coward, when Jihoon’s contact photo fills his screen again.

His thumb slips.

He had intended to press a letter on his keyboard. Instead, he presses the accept button.

Soonyoung realizes too late that it is not a phone call.

It’s a video call.

He freezes, staring at his screen in betrayal as his camera shrinks in the corner. Jihoon’s own face fills the bigger portion of his screen, which makes Soonyoung feel significantly more vulnerable somehow. Perhaps it’s because it resembles having a conversation with JIhoon face to face.

He does not speak.

Jihoon does not move.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Soonyoung has half a mind to pretend his connection had frozen, if only so he can end the inevitable confrontation before it starts.

Then Jihoon smiles.

Soonyoung knows all the different versions of Jihoon’s smile. There is the smile he offers when he is being kind and wants to make a good impression. There is the comforting smile he gives when Soonyoung has a bad day. There is the smile hiding clenched teeth when someone has annoyed him for long enough but he still has the decency not to snap at them.

But this smile is not a kind smile, no. It is not one of those comforting smiles he gives because he knows Soonyoung already feels humiliated and has no intentions of humiliating him further either.

This smile is a catastrophic, ill-intentioned, shit-eating grin.

“So…” Jihoon says casually.

Soonyoung drops his phone immediately, face burning at a rate so alarming he can feel his blood pressure spike.

Jihoon responds with elated, unapologetic laughter.

Soonyoung scowls deeply, neck hot.

His phone had fallen face up, camera facing the ceiling, which he considers fortunate because his face is currently not in any condition to be shown with confidence right now. From his position kneeling beside his bed, he can see Jihoon leaning backward while clapping his hands, eyes squeezed shut and face filled overwhelmingly with glee as he cackles.

“I’m hanging up,” Soonyoung grumbles.

“No. No, wait,” Jihoon gasps, still wearing the biggest grin Soonyoung has ever seen on him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not!”

“I am.”

“You are literally laughing at me.”

“Because you’re cute.”

Soonyoung presses his lips together, because this is exactly how Jihoon gets him. Jihoon starts sounding fond, Soonyoung’s whole world narrows down to a simple yet harrowing compliment, and five minutes later he forgets there was ever an argument to be had.

Not tonight.

Tonight, he has been severely wronged.

Tonight, his dignity has been dismantled by five of his most trusted soldiers who apparently decided his embarrassing romantic habits are entertaining enough to bypass military confidentiality.

“Come back,” Jihoon says, still smiling too widely for someone who is supposedly apologetic.

Soonyoung crosses his arms and sniffs, “No. I’m being made fun of.”

“You are.” Jihoon, that bastard, does not even deny it. “And I would also like to see your face.”

“Why?” scoffs Soonyoung. “So you can tease me more?”

Jihoon’s smile does not change, but his voice softens when he says, "Because I miss you.”

Soonyoung drops his head against the mattress.

This is so unfair.

Because just those four words is enough to make all his defenses come crashing down. Their separation seems to live between them as a constant ache now. It shows up as disappointment seeing Jihoon perform what should have been their part alone. It comes from the frustration of an injury that should not have happened had he been a bit more careful. It is also the irrational fear that he had broken their promise to perform together on stage again.

Hearing those words makes the pang of the broken promise hit differently.

He reaches for his phone and shows his face on the camera again. Then quietly, he says, “I miss you too.”

Jihoon’s shoulders visibly loosen. “There you are,” he murmurs fondly. “Baby.”

A tiny silence occurs.

Then, Soonyoung groans, “What did they tell you?”

Jihoon immediately bursts out laughing again and frankly, Soonyoung is starting to feel insulted, because this should not be funny anymore. Then again, Jihoon’s sense of humor consists mainly of repeating things long after the joke has gone old. It is usually one of his more endearing qualities.

Key word: usually.

Right now, Soonyoung is exasperated.

Jihoon’s laughter dies down after a few humiliating seconds. He lets out a long hum as he looks at something off camera, and the sound is suspiciously thoughtful.

Soonyoung’s anxiety spikes. “What?” he demands.

Jihoon smiles. “I’m thinking of where I should start.”

“Where to start,” Soonyoung repeats, feeling horrified at the implication. He gestures wildly, “There can’t possibly be enough material for you to need a starting point!”

Jihoon stares at him then, smugly.

Soonyoung’s heart drops.

“For one,” Jihoon begins, “Jihoonie is not the only name you call me by.”

Soonyoung closes his eyes and inhales slowly, trying to stay calm. He refuses to panic, because panicking means giving his boyfriend more fuel to add to the fire.

Then Jihoon continues, “There’s pretty boy. There’s baby. There’s your special—”

“Yes,” Soonyoung interrupts. “Okay. Great. We have established this. Is that all they told you?”

“There’s more.” Jihoon’s voice is cheerful. 

Soonyoung drops his head forward on the mattress.

“There’s apparently a video.”

Soonyoung’s head shoots up. “What video?”

“The one where I sang to you after rehearsing for our comeback.”

Soonyoung relaxes when he hears that. “Oh, that one.”

Admittedly, that is probably more embarrassing for Jihoon than it is for him, because at least he wasn’t the one being recorded. He knows Jihoon—despite being an idol—has a tendency to avoid the cameras if he can help it. Soonyoung, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. Although, doing the filming for once hadn’t been so bad if it meant being able to rewatch a video of Jihoon singing later.

He nods to himself, as if to reaffirm his thoughts.

Then Jihoon adds, “They said you replayed it six times.”

Soonyoung’s mouth falls open in disbelief. “That was meant to be private!” he exclaims.

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. “So was that video.”

Soonyoung pauses. “Okay, in my defense,” he starts, which usually means he did not have a valid defense to begin with, “that is not the most embarrassing thing in the world.”

Jihoon’s deadpans, “I was sweaty.”

“You were pretty!” protests Soonyoung.

“You filmed me from your lap.”

“And?”

“It was an unflattering angle.”

“Still pretty.”

Jihoon gives him a flat look.

Soonyoung only grins.

Maybe it’s not too late for him to turn the situation around. After all, Jihoon is easy to embarrass when he’s being showered with affection, and fortunately Soonyoung is a very devoted boyfriend with an abundance of love to give, so it shouldn’t be so difficult—

“There was also something about my hands.”

Soonyoung’s head thunks backward against the wall, eyes squeezing shut. He wishes he could’ve knocked himself unconscious then. He had already injured his knee, so what more with an injured head?

“...What did they say?” he asks carefully.

“They wouldn’t tell me.”

Relief crashes through Soonyoung so violently he nearly laughs from delirium. He sags against the wall, shoulders loosening.

There are some topics that should remain buried.

Lee Jihoon’s hands are one of them.

Soonyoung has absolutely no intention of explaining why his boyfriend’s hands have occupied an unhealthy amount of his attention throughout the fifteen years he’s known him and five years of dating him. It is not merely because Jihoon’s hands have some of the prettiest fingers he’s ever seen, with the way they taper and redden at the tips so prettily. There is more to it than just pretty fingertips, but the reason is something Soonyoung would rather take to his grave.

“Oh,” he breathes.

Jihoon narrows his eyes. “What about my hands?”

“Nothing,” Soonyoung says quickly, desperate to move onto the next exposing thing. “What else did they say?”

Thankfully, Jihoon seems to remember there is more to Soonyoung’s culminating embarrassment than his obsession with his hands. 

Soonyoung does not know yet if this is necessarily a good thing.

“They said you save my selcas,” Jihoon hums. Then, before Soonyoung can get too comfortable, he says, “I mean, I have your selcas too, so that’s not the weird part.”

Soonyoung stills at the implication.

The room suddenly becomes very, very quiet.

“...What is the weird part?” he tentatively asks.

Gradually, that manic, shit-eating grin from before begins spreading across Jihoon’s face. Soonyoung has approximately two seconds to think, oh no, before Jihoon says—

“You kiss my selcas when you think no one is looking.”

Soonyoung’s soul departs from his body. 

This time, he is fairly certain he is experiencing death right now. His entire body goes so rigid that he probably could’ve been admitted as a wax figure to a museum. His eyes become enormous. His hands cling uselessly—needlessly—to his phone, which is terrible because Jihoon is looking at him with a pleasant expression as though this is the most entertained he’s been in weeks, and Soonyoung kind of wants to reach through his screen and strangle him, if only to keep him from talking any further.

Which doesn’t make sense, considering it was Soonyoung who’d been the one asking—more like demanding—what else Jihoon knew.

Then again, Jihoon is not entirely innocent either, because the bastard starts laughing again.

Soonyoung watches his boyfriend lean halfway off screen, his broad shoulders shaking as he cackles. He comes back on screen with his eyes curved and that pretty dimpled smile Soonyoung had first fallen in love with—

No. Focus, Soonyoung.

He finally finds his voice and croaks pathetically, “That’s a lie.”

Jihoon, much to his dismay, only laughs harder.

“That’s a lie,” Soonyoung repeats insistently, louder this time, because perhaps raising his voice will give him the power to turn a lie into a truth. “That never happened!”

Jihoon hums, “Dakyung was the one who said it.”

“Dakyung is a natural deceiver,” Soonyoung tells him, miffed. He is already planning fifty-six different ways in which he can make Dakyung’s military life significantly less enjoyable, one of which involves drills including a hundred and ten push-ups every morning.

“Dongwoo said he saw you do it during lunch once,” Jihoon continues, undeterred.

DONGWOO, Soonyoung screams inside his head in betrayal.

Out of all the soldiers under his command, it is Dongwoo whom he entrusts the most with his embarrassing romantic habits. Dongwoo, who is just as much a hopeless romantic as he is, had listened to his nightly rants about Jihoon without complaint and had, on several occasions, even updated him on things involving Jihoon whenever Soonyoung had been busy taking care of other military duties.

Soonyoung didn’t think he could experience all seven stages of grief until this moment. Dongwoo is a dead man to him now.

“Dongwoo is a liar,” he says.

“Jaesung said you were giggling at one of my pictures.”

Soonyoung closes his eyes and, through gritted teeth, begrudgingly asks, “What picture?”

“I’m not sure,” Jihoon shrugs. “But he said you zoomed in on my eyes.”

A memory suddenly unscrambles itself inside Soonyoung’s brain without his permission. On any other occasion, he would have welcomed the memory back with pleasure, because any memory involving Jihoon is usually a good one. This time though, Soonyoung desperately wishes he is remembering the wrong thing because—

“He said you kissed my eye mole because it was cute,” Jihoon finishes pleasantly.

Soonyoung dies for what should have been the fifth time that night. For some reason, it seems he keeps reincarnating right into the most embarrassing moment of his life. 

No.

No.

NO.

Soonyoung could’ve sworn Jaesung had fallen asleep before that happened. He distinctly remembers looking toward Jaesung’s bunk at least three times before opening that picture, because everyone else had finally fallen asleep and Soonyoung wanted five uninterrupted minutes to admire his boyfriend without anyone poking fun at him.

Now, it seems he has a reasonable cause to improve his reconnaissance skills.

Soonyoung drags his palm down his face miserably. “They need to learn when to shut the hell up.”

Jihoon grins at his reaction, looking far too satisfied. “So you think my eye mole is cute.”

“Jihoon.”

“And you were giggling.”

“Jihoon.”

“And you kiss my selcas.”

“I was TIRED,” Soonyoung insists desperately.

Jihoon cocks an eyebrow and leans back. “So that means you do it every time you’re tired, huh?”

“It means,” drawls Soonyoung, glaring at him, “that me being tired is a perfectly good reason as to why I do some of the things I do. I work almost all day, come back exhausted, and when I finally get some peace and quiet, your selcas are what gives me energy the next morning, you know?”

Jihoon’s expression softens for a moment.

Then he says, “You know, you keep talking but I don’t hear you denying anything.”

“JIHOON.”

Jihoon bursts out laughing again, that asshole.

Soonyoung vaguely wonders if he has the capacity to report his boyfriend to his commanding officer for harassment. There are military laws in writing that specify that significant others are prohibited from weaponizing confidential information obtained through subordinate betrayal.

At least, there should be.

If there isn’t, then he is willing to draft one himself. He has the resources, and he has experience writing reports and making presentations. He will add a pie chart if necessary, with one section labeled ‘Things Sergeant Lee Knew Beforehand’ and another, much larger section labeled ‘Things Sergeant Lee Was Not Authorized to Know. Ever.’

“This is a violation of my rights,” Soonyoung declares. “I need to speak with a lawyer.”

In the midst of his laughing, Jihoon chokes out, “A lawyer?”

“Yes!”

“What rights are being violated, exactly?”

“My right to privacy!”

“Soonyoung.” Jihoon finally manages to calm down enough to speak coherently. “You told your entire demonstration team. You said goodbye to privacy the moment you kissed my selcas in public.”

Soonyoung flushes, but he still has the audacity to protest, “They were sleeping!”

“They were not.” Jihoon is grinning again, arms crossed in that infuriating way that tells Soonyoung he is enjoying this far more than he should be. “The fact that I know you kiss my selcas now is proof of that.”

Soonyoung jabs his finger against the screen. “You are not helping your case.”

“I don’t have a case.”

“I am making one against you first thing tomorrow morning. You will be hearing from your commanding officer.”

Jihoon tilts his head in amusement. “Then what am I being charged with?”

Soonyoung sits straighter and sets his phone against his pillow. Then, as though preparing to deliver an official indictment straight from his commanding officer, he begins listing with his fingers, “Emotional harassment, unauthorized collection of personal information, conspiracy with subordinates, possession of classified romantic practices—need I say more?”

Jihoon all but laughs again.

Soonyoung scowls and says, “I don’t know why you’re laughing. Those are serious accusations! I can have you arrested.”

“We’re the same rank.”

“That will not stop me.”

Jihoon’s voice trembles with the effort of trying not to laugh when he asks. “You and what army?”

Soonyoung turns his chin up indignantly. “JUST ME, apparently! Because I’ve been betrayed by my entire brigade without my knowledge.”

Jihoon is laughing so hard he can barely speak.

Soonyoung crosses his arms. “This is not funny.”

“I just—eugh—whuh—” Jihoon wheezes, rubbing beneath one eye. “You’re…You’re ridiculous.”

Soonyoung doesn’t bat an eye. “I’m a victim.”

“Of kissing my selcas, you are.”

“Fuck you,” Soonyoung spits.

“Send me the date and time, I’ll come over.” 

Jihoon’s grin becomes impossibly wider, and Soonyoung realizes with horror that he is creating a monster of a boyfriend who is using weaponized knowledge to recite the very same words Soonyoung had used to tease him, against him. All his teasing is coming back to bite him in the ass.

He taps on his screen frantically and scrolls upward in their chat room. Then he finds it.

Jihoon: So you’d marry me just because I know you best?

Of course not  :Soonyoung

You have money  :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Fuck you.

Send me the date and time, I’ll come over  :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Kwon Soonyoung. 

Soonyoung stares at the message, mentally hitting his past self upside the head for biting more than he could chew.

There are, perhaps, a lot of things he should’ve reconsidered in every decision leading up to this moment. For example, being less affectionate is one of them. Perhaps he should’ve stopped showing his team pictures of his boyfriend. Maybe he should’ve exercised considerably more restraint when Jihoon sent him especially good selcas. And perhaps he should’ve thrown his blanket over himself as a cover before kissing those especially good selcas.

Who knew something so tiny and harmless as a kiss could become his worst nightmare?

Soonyoung returns to the video call, presses his hands over his eyes, and says, “I’m hanging up.”

“If you hang up, I’m calling back.”

“You hate video calling.”

“I am thoroughly enjoying myself now though?”

Soonyoung scowls again. “I hate you.”

Jihoon hums, “Love you too.”

And precisely because of those three words, Soonyoung does not hang up—not that he would have in the first place. For all the time and effort he’d poured into making his military life as entertaining as possible, one would think he’d gained a stronger backbone somehow. Needless to say, his backbone had grown stronger in every area that apparently did not concern love.

Jihoon knows this too now, which sucks.

Soonyoung sits there instead, kneeling in front of his phone with humiliation spreading rapidly downward from his face to his neck while Jihoon unabashedly enjoys himself at his expense.

It is torture in the best—worst?—way possible.

Then, perhaps deciding mercy is finally necessary, Jihoon says, “I am curious about one thing though.”

Soonyoung lowers his hand.

Jihoon being curious is usually never a good thing, especially not when he says it in that tone. It has a sort of lilt to it, not quite knowing but not quite unintentional either. It is a tone he typically uses when he knows just enough to suspect something, though not quite enough to have a concrete answer. Soonyoung finds it adorable in most cases.

This moment is not included in most cases.

“...What?” he asks cautiously.

“My selcas,” Jihoon says. Then, entirely too casually, he asks, “Where do you kiss them?”

Soonyoung’s expression becomes dangerously blank.

Jihoon begins specifying as though Soonyoung did not understand the first time, “Like, do you kiss the screen somewhere random, or is there a specific feature of mine that you like other than my eye mole—”

“Jihoon.” Soonyoung’s voice is low. “Shut up.”

This does not work on Jihoon. He knows Soonyoung far too well to know when he is genuinely angry and when he is extremely embarrassed enough to start resorting to profanities.

“I’m just asking,” he says, lips twitching.

“You are not just asking.”

“Okay, fine,” Jihoon surrenders, holding his hands up. “I’m curious.”

“I am not answering that.”

“So there is somewhere specific.”

Soonyoung feels mortification burning inside him. “That is not what I said.”

Jihoon is grinning now, which, if there is anything Soonyoung has learned in the past thirty minutes of what should have been a perfectly normal conversation with his boyfriend, it’s that Jihoon grinning is not a good thing.

“Like I said earlier,” Jihoon says. “You keep talking but I don’t hear you denying anything.”

Soonyoung sits up slightly, somehow still convinced that appearing more confident can overcome his crushing embarrassment. 

(Note: this has never worked out in his favor.)

“I think,” he says stiffly, “that you are reading too much into things.”

He seriously considers ending the call right then and there, because every additional minute of them talking seems to provide Jihoon another chance to uncover something that should have remained buried forever, whether Soonyoung intended to reveal it or not.

He hates it.

He also hates himself more for still being curious.

“Am I?” Jihoon hums, crossing his arms. “Then what am I supposed to think when you say things like my chest is the size of a country?”

Soonyoung’s vision narrows.

No.

No, no, no, nonono—

How the hell does Jihoon know that? Soonyoung had said that earlier.

No, that’s not quite right.

He hadn’t said it aloud. He had—

“And apparently, you want to suffocate in it,” Jihoon says, sounding oddly happy, “so I’m assuming you kiss my selcas there, no?”

“HOW MUCH DID THEY TELL YOU?!” Soonyoung screeches.

Jihoon quirks an eyebrow. “Not denying it?”

“NO!” Soonyoung shrills, then pauses. He backtracks immediately, “NO, I mean I AM. I’m not—I’m saying not—just—no—” He takes a deep breath and screams into his mattress, slamming his fist against it repeatedly as if that is enough for him to channel his embarrassment into.

Jihoon breaks into another bout of laughter.

Soonyoung heaves, face feeling entirely too hot to be medically healthy and skin entirely too red to be considered normal. He turns his head upward, not quite lifting his head just yet, because hiding half his face right now feels somewhat reassuring. His eyes glare at his phone, which had somehow stayed miraculously stable throughout the earthquake emitted by his fist.

“That,” he attempts to say normally, “was taken out of context.”

Jihoon snickers, “Then please enlighten me.”

Soonyoung’s face turns impossibly scarlet. “There was a picture.”

“Mhm.”

“From your fansite.”

“I know.”

Soonyoung finally lifts his head fully up, pointing his finger accusingly at his phone. “So you saw the picture!”

“Well, yeah. It’s my fansite.”

“Then don’t act like I was wrong!”

Soonyoung’s brain catches up to what he said half a second too late. He buries his face into his mattress again, moaning in distress.

“So you stand by it.” Jihoon’s voice is unbearably smug.

Soonyoung’s voice comes out muffled, “That’s not what I said.”

“You just defended why you think my chest is the size of a coun—”

“SHUT UP.”

Jihoon starts laughing again.

Soonyoung lifts his head with an indignant pout, dignity thoroughly destroyed and humiliation coursing through every artery and vein in his body. His entire face has yet to change from its violent shade of red and his eyes are shining, which becomes the reason why Jihoon decides to finally take pity on him.

“Okay, okay,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m done.”

“Really,” Soonyoung says flatly.

Jihoon nods, but his lips are still twitching with the effort of trying not to look amused. He crosses his arms again, and the movement makes his chest look significantly more pronounced. 

Soonyoung’s eyes flicker, just for a second. It should have been subtle.

Unfortunately, nothing about Kwon Soonyoung is ever subtle.

Even more unfortunately, it is just enough time for Jihoon to catch on. He looks down at himself, at the way his forearms are currently wrapped beneath his pecs, pushing them up slightly. Then, he looks back up at Soonyoung and, out of nowhere, asks—

“If I cross my arms, does the country become a continent?”

Soonyoung shuts his eyes. “Jihoonie, PLEASE.”

Jihoon nearly falls out of frame laughing.

Soonyoung glares at him for a moment, ears red and face even redder. Then, because his energy had been thoroughly wasted on pathetically trying to deny everything he had done until now, he drops his head back on his bed, groaning, “They’re dead.”

“Who?”

“My former team.”

Jihoon laughs, softly this time. “They adore you.”

“Yeah?” scoffs Soonyoung. “They have a funny way of showing it.”

“They helped you.”

“By exposing me to my boyfriend, maybe,” Soonyoung huffs. “This is embarrassing.”

Jihoon snorts, “Please. Embarrassing is practically your middle name at this point.”

Soonyoung lifts his head enough to narrow his eyes.

“I’ll have you know I’m filing a formal complaint against you,” he says petulantly. He pauses. Then adds, even more aggressively, “And them. All of them.”

Jihoon bites his lip. “Because I found out you call me your pretty boy and baby?”

“Jihoon.”

“Or because I found out you kiss my selcas?”

“STOP.”

“Or maybe because my chest is the size of a country—”

“Goodbye, Jihoon.”

Jihoon is still laughing somehow, but just before Soonyoung can actually reach over to hang up, he says, “Wait.”

Soonyoung, against his better judgement because apparently he hasn’t learned anything, pauses and asks, “What?”

There is a tiny moment of silence.

Then Jihoon says, far too casually, “You can come visit my country next time we’re off.”

Soonyoung’s brain empties.

He stares at his phone screen, eyes humungous and mouth hanging slightly open. His face becomes so hot he feels feverish. He doesn’t even know if he’s breathing right, not that he’s thinking anything reasonable in the first place. 

Jihoon smiles knowingly. “You okay, baby?”

That snaps Soonyoung out of his stupor.

“Stupid idiot,” he hisses. He can’t tell if he’s talking about Jihoon or himself. “I hope your air conditioning turns off in the middle of the night.”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. “I think you’re hoping for our next day off actually.”

Soonyoung hangs up immediately. 

A serene silence fills the room, which is usually great in cases where he needs a mental break from anything even emotionally exhausting. But his face is still red, his ears are burning, and he’s pretty sure parts of his body that cannot physiologically blush are somehow blushing anyway, which is concerning.

His phone buzzes with a notification. Out of spite, he decides ignoring it is better for his mental health. 

That is, until he sees [image attached].

So, with restraint he never possessed, he opens the message.

Jihoon: Coward.

Jihoon: [image attached]

Jihoon: There.

Jihoon: So you have something to look forward to on our day off.

It’s a low angle of Jihoon’s chest, with his head poking above and a devious little smirk on his face. The angle is clearly intentional to make his pecs look enormous, and much to Soonyoung’s displeasure, it is working in his favor.

Soonyoung saves the picture despite himself.

He does not intend to keep it for his own leisure, obviously. And even after being emotionally obliterated by his own boyfriend, he will absolutely not admit that he saves the picture into one of his private folders for safekeeping.

It is evidence.

Evidence he may need later when he formally files a complaint to Jihoon’s commanding officer about emotional harassment, unauthorized collection of personal information, conspiracy with subordinates, possession of classified romantic practices, and illegal ownership of a huge—

Chest.

Soonyoung does not let that thought wander any further than it needs to.

His phone buzzes once more.

Jihoon: Love you, baby.

Soonyoung stares for several seconds.

Even seeing those texts, the embarrassment does not disappear all at once. Neither does the urge to personally assign every member of his team to do a hundred and ten push-ups the next time he sees them.

Yet beneath it all, a rush of warmth curls inside his stomach.

He types back:

I LOVE YOU TOO :Soonyoung

Then, because embarrassment refuses to settle unless avenged, he adds:

BUT YOU’RE STILL HORRIBLE :Soonyoung

Jihoon sends a text back soon after:

Jihoon: Looking forward to your visit to my country, Sergeant Kwon.

Jihoon: Feel free to kiss wherever you want 🖤

Soonyoung shoves his face into his mattress and screams.

Two days later, Soonyoung learns very quickly that his team’s betrayal and his overreactions to Jihoon’s chest is just the beginning of his emotional obliteration.

Unsurprisingly, it is because of a video of Jihoon going viral.

Again.

Ever since the Ground Forces Festival started, it seems nearly every clip of Jihoon performing has gotten popular among netizens. Ordinarily, this would make Soonyoung proud. And he truly is, because there’s a different sort of energy to Jihoon whenever he performs on stage where one can feel just how passionate he is about his job, and it shows most clearly when he’s performing.

But the performance Soonyoung watches is different.

Soonyoung finds the video while he’s doing rehabilitation exercises, thumb idly scrolling through his feed between sets. The first clip he finds is from one of Jihoon’s solo performances. He has already watched it live through the broadcast, but whoever uploaded this particular video deserves some sort of national recognition for their camera work, because the footage is clear enough that Soonyoung can see everything.

This is a serious problem.

Because Jihoon is standing on the stage with his signature red microphone twirling in one hand, the other fiddling with his in-ear, and his uniform fitting far too snugly across his torso, stretching and pulling across places that most certainly did not need to be stretched and pulled across. For a few moments, Soonyoung forgets that this is still a military performance.

This is Woozi.

This is the person he has watched command stages for more than a decade, somehow still able to pull everyone’s attention toward him without doing too much. His movements are fluid, confidence settling naturally into his limbs, and the passion in his expression exudes in his aura whenever he’s singing.

Soonyoung watches the entire thing twice.

By the third rewatch, he convinces himself he is analyzing the dance routine. Even with an injured knee, it will never deter the dancer in him.

By the fourth rewatch, the dance routine no longer matters to him. It never did in the first place, if he were truthfully speaking.

“Oh, you’re so hot,” he mutters to nobody in particular. For once, he’s thankful Jihoon isn’t there to hear him. “Why do you look like that?”

The rest of the internet seems to agree. Clips from Jihoon’s solo performances have started spreading everywhere. One focuses on Jihoon pulling out glasses right before rapping Soonyoung’s part in Super. Another focuses on Jihoon pulling off those glasses just before the highlight part of Ruby. The third is a video of Jihoon passionately singing to his first solo, Simple. The next one is of Jihoon standing beneath blue lights singing his latest solo, Destiny.

The comments have gone crazy, understandably so. Everyone is losing their minds over Sergeant Lee transforming back into Woozi, who had never been back on stage in nearly a year and a half until the festival had happened. Soonyoung thinks they should be thanking him, because he’d been the one to convince Jihoon to perform again despite his boyfriend’s wishes to live a quiet military life.

Granted, that was before he injured himself, but that is currently not important.

What is important is the fact that as Soonyoung keeps scrolling, he comes across a picture of Jihoon’s arms.

Soonyoung’s throat dries.

Jihoon has always had very nice arms. They’re long, fair, and could probably deadlift Soonyoung if he really had the courage to. But the picture is almost offensively good precisely because it does just enough for Soonyoung to abandon any sense of normalcy.

Because Jihoon’s arms…

Soonyoung zooms in and—

Okay.

He can be normal about this.

He can be so normal about the fact that Jihoon’s arms are unshaven.

“Oh, come on,” he complains. 

It is not really a complaint so much as it is a compliment of sorts, but this is getting ridiculous.

He hasn’t seen Jihoon in person in a week. When they had video called two days ago—courtesy of Soonyoung’s inability to type properly—Soonyoung had not thought to pay attention to his arms. That had been one of the last things on his mind, because his main focus at the time had been Jihoon’s chest.

(He still refuses to admit this.)

It is one thing for Jihoon to have a nice chest.

It is another for him to have nice arms too.

Something about this feels unfair. At this rate, Soonyoung is going to have to start filing formal complaints against each individual body parts, which wouldn’t be the worst idea had Soonyoung not wanted to keep some of those body parts for himself.

His eyes trace the line of Jihoon’s forearms, where the muscle is slightly flexed from whatever movement this person had caught him doing. There are traces of his veins standing prominent beneath his fair skin, leading to his hands. The hairs on his arms are clearly visible, and the sight of it makes something feral rise in Soonyoung’s chest.

His rehabilitation exercises have been completely abandoned at this point.

Then, by some uncanny timing, his phone buzzes.

Jihoon: What are you doing?

Soonyoung freezes, feeling as though he’d been caught red-handed doing something he shouldn’t. 

Which is true, to some extent.

His eyes flicker toward the top of his screen as if Jihoon is somehow watching through the front camera. He’s heard theories of this happening, has heard of people seeing a red blinking light so subtle it’s difficult to catch unless the angle is right, but he’s never been a superstitious person.

Now he ought to believe some of those are true.

nothing :Soonyoung

The reply comes instantly.

Jihoon: Liar.

Soonyoung scowls.

WHY WOULD YOU ASK IF YOU ALREADY KNOW THEN :Soonyoung

Jihoon: So it’s something to do with me.

ITS NOT :Soonyoung

Jihoon: What did I do now?

NOTHING :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Then why are you shouting through text?

IM NOT :Soonyoung

LEAVE ME ALONE :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Is it my chest again?

Soonyoung’s mouth falls open in disbelief. His fingers fly across the screen almost maliciously.

I HATE YOU :Soonyoung

Jihoon: My hair then?

NO :Soonyoung

Jihoon: My arms?

Soonyoung stops typing, thumbs hovering uselessly above the keyboard. He should probably say something before Jihoon gets any ideas about how right he is. Unfortunately, he has hesitated long enough to give himself away.

Jihoon: Oh.

Soonyoung’s jaw clenches.

I DIDNT SAY ANYTHIGN :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Your typos are doing it for you.

SHUT UP :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Which picture?

Oh, absolutely not.

THERE IS NO PICTUE :Soonyoung

*PICTURE :Soonyoung

Jihoon: So there is a picture.

I SAID THERES NOT :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Send it.

Soonyoung slams his head into his mattress, letting out infuriated noises that don’t even have the semblance of anything even remotely coherent. He is not so much annoyed as he is embarrassed though, which is perhaps the worst thing.

He raises his head and types back:

Soonyoung: NO

Jihoon: Send it or I’ll ask your team.

Soonyoung stares at the message, feeling thoroughly betrayed and conspired against. He is being blackmailed by his own boyfriend. The insulting thing is, his team probably likes Jihoon more than him at this point and wouldn’t hesitate to out him, if their schemes for the past two days are anything to go by.

So, against his better judgement and because Jihoon getting information from his team of backstabbers is worse than getting information directly from the source himself, he sends the picture to Jihoon and immediately regrets it.

For several seconds, Jihoon doesn’t text back.

Then—

Jihoon:  My arms look good.

Soonyoung’s mouth falls open.

Two days ago, Jihoon would have combusted before saying something like that. Although he is not particularly insecure about himself, he is also not the type to say things unabashedly like that either. He would’ve called Soonyoung ridiculous or stupid, denied everything, then changed the subject before his ears turned red.

Now, apparently Jihoon’s confidence has skyrocketed, because then he sends:

Jihoon: So how long were you staring?

Soonyoung’s face flushes.

I WAS NOT STARING :Soonyoung

Jihoon: I don’t believe you.

WHY NOT :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Because you admitted to staring at my chest.

I THOUGHT WE WERE PAST THIS :Soonyoung

He should probably stop texting before the situation takes a turn for the worst. Unfortunately, Soonyoung has never learned how to take a break, and he has absolutely no self-control where Jihoon is concerned.

After a moment, Jihoon sends:

Jihoon: You know you can just look at them in person.

Soonyoung stops breathing, his entire train of thought derailing so abruptly that his rehabilitation band slips from his hand. It snaps harmlessly against the mattress, but he hardly notices it.

He texts back, albeit sarcastically:

I FEEL SO PRIVILEGED :Soonyoung

Because apparently embarrassment gives way to humor once it crosses a certain point.

Jihoon responds with:

Jihoon: Well, I thought that was obvious since we’re dating.

Jihoon: You can have all the chest and arm privileges you want, baby.

Soonyoung hates him.

He exits out of their chat without responding and goes back to scrolling, a mix of embarrassment and fond irritation tangling in his chest. It is not genuine hatred of course, and the feeling only lasts all of five minutes before he stumbles upon something catastrophic.

It is a video of Jihoon.

Under any other circumstance, this should not demand Soonyoung’s full attention, especially not now after being chastened by his boyfriend. There are thousands of videos and clips circulating the internet about Jihoon. Most of them are cute, replaying moments in which his boyfriend had acted unintentionally cute on stage or forced to do aegyo at the request of ridiculous variety show producers. Some are more dangerous, with thirst trap edits of Jihoon shrugging his jacket off, doing body rolls, or flicking his tongue, amongst other things that deteriorate Soonyoung’s sanity just as much as Jihoon’s broad chest and unshaven arms did.

But this is not an ordinary circumstance, and the difference nearly gives him a whiplash.

Because it is a video of Jihoon with kids.

Jihoon is crouched behind two little kids, keeping a hand gently planted against their shoulders as though to embrace them. He has the biggest grin on his face, eyes curved and so clearly full of adoration that the sight of it makes Soonyoung’s heart squeeze.

He replays the video again.

Even throughout their fifteen years of knowing each other, Soonyoung has hardly seen Jihoon interact with children. Perhaps the closest thing he can compare it with is back when they were still trainees. Their dongsaeng, Kim Samuel, had still been considered to be in their official lineup then, and Jihoon had been very doting on him. He had even initiated affection with Samuel, giving him hugs and rubbing his hair tenderly very much like an older brother would.

Perhaps because of Jihoon’s shyness when it comes to meeting people for the first time, Soonyoung never would have thought he’d be good with kids. His boyfriend can’t even handle talking to women, for god’s sake.

He pulls the comments up, an unconscious smile pulling at his lips as he reads them.

Their fans are going crazy, reasonably so. Everyone is talking about how fond Jihoon looks, and how natural it seems for him to be interacting with children. There is one particular comment that attributes Jihoon’s love for kids to the fact that he is an only child, and the thought makes Soonyoung’s heart swell tenderly.

Then he sees it.

carrot17_: HE’D MAKE SUCH A GOOD DAD 😢

Soonyoung stares at that comment for a long time. Then, he puts his phone facedown on the mattress, shoves his face into his hands, and releases a low, strangled sound that does not sound even human. His heart pounds hard against his ribcage, something warm and fuzzy blooming in his stomach as the comment replays in his head. 

There are limits as to what his heart can endure, and seeing Jihoon with kids and being a hypothetical good father would surpass that threshold.

“Oh god,” Soonyoung whispers to himself. 

He takes a deep breath to compose himself, then reaches out to grab his phone. He watches the video again, then quietly saves it and continues scrolling, trying not to think much of it.

That is, until a video pops up a few scrolls later.

Soonyoung freezes.

Oh.

Oh no.

This time, it's a two-minute long video of Jihoon crouching beside a little girl in a yellow sweater. 

Soonyoung covers his mouth with one hand, eyes wide as he watches Jihoon clasp her tiny hand between his. He's talking to her gently while gesturing to the audience. Then he stands behind the girl, gently holding her shoulders as they both watch something happen off camera. After a moment, Jihoon positions himself next to the girl and gestures for her to do a salute. The little one crosses her hands over her chest instead, and Jihoon follows the movement without hesitation, even encouraging her to do it again.

Soonyoung's heart squeezes as he watches Jihoon gently grab the girl's hand and lead her off the stage. 

Something inside him collapses at the sight, like his heart shattering into a million pieces. It is not a bad thing. At least, he doesn’t think it is, because he suddenly feels so unbearably soft that his eyes water.

He saves the video and immediately launches into his group chat with his team members—the very same team members who had betrayed him the first time.

Apparently some lessons bear repeating.

GUYS :Soonyoung

HES WITH KJIDS :Soonyoung

Jeonghee: Oh god 😆

[image attached] :Soonyoung

[video attached] :Soonyoung

LOOK :Soonyoung

Dongwoo: They’re cute, aren’t they?

Dakyung: awwwww the kids are cutee!!!

NO :Soonyoung

I MEAN YES BUT :Soonyoung

JIHOONIE TOO :Soonyoung

HES SO CUTE :Soonyoung

Jaesung: Okay…?

NOT JUST OKAY :Soonyoung

HE LOOKS SO HAPPY :Soonyoung

HE’D MAKE SUCH A GOOD DAD RIGHT?? :Soonyoung

The group chat falls silent.

There are no typing indicators, no gifs from Jaesung, no laughing emoticons from Jeonghee, and no badly timed jokes from Dakyung that would have resulted in Soonyoung aggressively defending the fact that Jihoon would, in fact, make an excellent father. 

Then Dongwoo texts:

Dongwoo: Hyung.

Dongwoo: Read what you just said.

Soonyoung frowns, looking back at his own text. He rereads it once, then again, because he still doesn’t understand what is so wrong with what he’d sent.

Then Dakyung sends a text:

Dakyung: awwww!

Dakyung: are you already thinking of making a family??

Soonyoung’s entire body goes rigid.

That had sounded significantly different inside his head. He didn’t mean for it to come out that way, although some part of it was technically true to a certain extent. They are still idols with careers to take care of after they leave the military, so starting a family is quite possibly the furthest thing he should be thinking about.

He texts back:

I MEANT HES CUTE WITH KIDS :Soonyoung

Woojae: THAT DOESNT HELP

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN :Soonyoung

Jaesung: We do?

YES :Soonyoung

Dakyung: 🥹

DONT USE THAT FACE :Soonyoung

Soonyoung rubs a hand over his face in distress, because he can already see where this is going.

All he wanted was for someone else to appreciate the fact that Jihoon looked unbearably sweet holding a child.

That was it.

He does not have baby fever.

He really doesn’t.

He exits out of the group chat and goes back to the picture from earlier. Jihoon’s smile is still broad and unguarded, his cheek nearly brushing the child’s hair. The little one looks completely comfortable in his arms, one tiny arm curled loosely against Jihoon’s shoulder while Jihoon holds them as though they are something precious.

Soonyoung’s chest squeezes as he zooms in. 

Then, he notices Jihoon’s hands with much more awareness than before. They’re steady and slightly veiny, spread so wide around the child that it nearly covers their entire thigh.

Soonyoung melts completely.

“Fucking hell,” he sighs, zooming into the picture.

He shouldn’t.

He knows he shouldn’t, because something inside him is screaming at him that he’s making a mistake, but he doesn’t care. Jihoon’s hands have always been one of his greatest weaknesses, and he will happily indulge himself in pictures of them if the chance ever arises.

His phone buzzes with a banner notification.

Dongwoo: Hyung.

Dongwoo: Are you still looking at the picture?

Soonyoung immediately exits the picture and taps on the banner, typing frantically.

NO :Soonyoung

Jeonghee: That was fast.

Jaesung: He was zooming in

Jaesung: Like he did that one time when I caught him kissing Jihoonie-hyung’s eye mole

THAT WAS ONE TIME :Soonyoung

AND STOP CALLING HIM JIHOONIE-HYUNG LIKE YOU’RE CLOSE :Soonyoung

Dakyung: but he told us we can call him hyung 🥹

IM REVOKING THAT PRIVILEGE :Soonyoung

Dakyung: youre not jihoonie-hyung tho

I DONT CARE :Soonyoung

HES MY BOYFRIEND :Soonyoung

Woojae: SO SHOULD WE TELL JIHOONIE-HYUNG YOU THINK HE’D BE A GOOD DAD???

Soonyoung’s blood turns cold.

NO :Soonyoung

DONT YOU DARE :Soonyoung

WEVE DISCUSSED THIS ALREADY :Soonyoung

Jaesung: Not successfully 😏

Soonyoung sits upright so quickly he nearly forgets about his knee.

“No,” he whispers, eyes widening. “No, no, no.”

The last time these people had been given access to private information—or what should’ve been private information—Jihoon had somehow emerged from the situation with enough material to psychologically torment him for the rest of their enlistment. Possibly beyond their enlistment, knowing Jihoon.

They will think twice before doing it again.

IF ANY OF YOU TELL HIM I WILL PERSONALLY DESIGN TOMORROWS TRAINING :Soonyoung

The typing indicators disappear instantly. For a moment, Soonyoung feels satisfied knowing he can use his superior ranking to his advantage.

Until Dakyung responds with:

Dakyung: what if he already knows?

Soonyoung freezes.

His phone vibrates again before he has time to process what’s happening. This time, it is not a notification from their group chat.

It’s a notification from Jihoon.

Jihoon: I’d make a good dad?

Soonyoung squeezes his eyes shut as memories of their previous conversations begin rushing back to him. He had experienced this before only mere days ago, but it is not any less embarrassing than when it first happened.

“I’m going to kill them,” he mutters to himself.

More messages arrive:

Jihoon: First my chest.

Jihoon: Then my arms.

Jihoon: Now I’d make a good dad.

Soonyoung’s fingers fly over the keyboard.

IDK WHAT YOU’RE TLAKING ABOUT :Soonyoung

Jihoon: [screenshot attached]

Soonyoung opens the screenshot unwillingly, and much to his horror, realizes it is a screenshot of his group chat with his team, sent from Dakyung’s point of view.

“DAKYUNG,” he seethes, typing furiously.

THEY TOOK IT OUT OF CONTEXT :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Seems they do that a lot, huh?

YES :Soonyoung

YOU UNDERSTAND :Soonyoung

Jihoon: I understand you think I’d make a good dad, yes.

JIHOONIE PLEASE :Soonyoung

Soonyoung begins drafting a response, presumably to defend himself. Then, after rereading it, he begins backspacing rapidly. He attempts to clarify, but the meaning of his actual intentions become more muddled than the first attempt, so he deletes that too.

He stares at his keyboard.

There is no way to explain why the picture had affected him without making himself sound even more gone than he already does. Although, this should not be surprising to Jihoon in any way, given the incident that had happened two days prior.

Thankfully, Jihoon saves him the trouble.

Or, more accurately, destroys whatever dignity he still manages to hold onto.

Jihoon: So you like me with kids.

Soonyoung stares at the message with an indignant expression, but his ears start heating up despite himself.

I DIDNT SAY THAT :Soonyoung

Jihoon: You kind of did.

I MEANT YOU LOOKED CUTE :Soonyoung

Jihoon: And I’d make a good dad.

Soonyoung closes his eyes and inhales. 

Somehow, that sentence looks so much worse when Jihoon is the one saying it.

Then Jihoon adds:

Jihoon: Good to know.

Soonyoung slams his phone against his mattress, curling toward the wall because embarrassment had somehow taken control of his limbs and made itself a personal home in them.

He cannot do this again.

He rolls over and snatches his phone again.

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN :Soonyoung

Jihoon: I’m just saying

NO :Soonyoung

DONT DO THAT :Soonyoung

TELL ME :Soonyoung

Jihoon: Just collecting data for future reference.

Soonyoung groans and presses both hands over his face, allowing his phone to fall back onto his mattress. 

Of course.

In retrospect, he should’ve been more prepared. He should’ve seen this coming, because nothing involving Jihoon and kids was worth being normal about. Now that his boyfriend knows exactly what being with kids does to him, Jihoon is going to become an absolute menace.

He is proven right when his phone buzzes again. He waits for all of two seconds before he reluctantly looks.

Jihoon: Love you, future co-parent.

Jihoon: For the record though, I think we should be husbands first.

Jihoon: You still haven’t visited my country yet.

Soonyoung nearly throws his phone across the room.

“LEE JIHOON!”