권현태

perhaps hyuntae is actually excited for him. perhaps he is genuinely proud. but rowon doesn’t see it — or rather, he can’t see it. because if their roles were reversed and hyuntae’s the one leaving first, rowon wouldn’t be happy at all.

( he has an awful secret — one that he can never tell. when hyuntae didn’t debut as intended, rowon was delighted. oh, he revelled in the relief that he got to keep hyuntae for one more term. but he kept this side under lock and key and sought to comfort with soulless words: you’ll be okay, you’ll have another chance. )

"oh like my best friend did? they may actually succeed this time..." he joked "if you didn't have to go i would have gotten you to make one for me." at this moment tae already knew he wouldn't be in this dorm for long. soon he would be trading it for another one. but he wasn't allowed to say anything. he wouldn't ruin it this time. but the moment he was allowed to, rowon would be the first to know.

“easy to fall in love with, hard to love. that’s what someone told me once.” he decides, for this moment and this moment only, that he’d loosen the bolt on the door he’s kept closed all these years. “i didn’t think anything of it at the time. it didn’t even hurt to hear, but it must’ve meant something since i still remember it.”

his eyes narrow.

intensive workshops, with @hyuntaelgc

shock. pure shock and surprise, is what junkyu felt as he walked into that room and sat down. those words that left jang insung's mouth were ones he wasn't expecting to hear. having debuted once already, then regressing back to the trainee status and almost feeling like he was starting right from the beginning once again, it felt like a dream.

it's still not hit him, even as junkyu finds himself sat on the training room floor, sprawled out with papers, books and a little ipad by his side with a bunch of english writing loaded up. his progress with english has been pretty good lately, to him at least, and he was learning more and more as he tried.

hosting workshops, with @hyuntaelgc

for someone who's been used to being in front of cameras often, the whole concept of creating his own vlog felt way more fresh than he originally anticipated. but he's glad they have the workshops to help them. while junkyu himself quite enjoyed watching vlogs, he didn't quite realise how each person had their own vlogging style until he was put in this situation where he had to find his own style, and even along with that came a whole bunch of other things: camera angles, what to include, how to make it intriguing and fun to watch, how loud he had to speak for the microphone to pick it up, hell, even holding the camera so he wasn't covering the microphone or unintentionally having a wonky angle.

but for junkyu, the hardest part for him was public speaking and vlogging in general. while he was more of an introvert, he could have his extroverted moments when he wanted, but when it came to things like vlogging, putting those two things together came a little harder.

  the warm sand welcomes him as he takes his place next to hyuntae. for a moment, he lifts their joined hands, idly pressing palm to palm to size them up. hyuntae’s hand is slightly smaller than his, though his fingers are stubbier. this, he knows too. he’s played with these hands so often that he has ever crease and line memorized.

  “that means a lot to me,” rowon says after a long, intentional pause. “sometimes, i feel … secondary. like i’m someone’s second choice. their second call. their second chance. so it means a lot to me — being the most important. being first.”

  he intertwines their fingers and looks at it curiously. and it’s just that: a curiosity. he wonders who else hyuntae has held hands with, but the thought is fleeting. his hand drops back to his side.

hearing rowon speak it surprised him. "you'll never be secondary to me" he whispered. almost not loud enough to be heard. when he felt rowon's warm hand leave his, he almost whimpered, but he knew better. i have to keep my cool. he thought to himself. 'do you think you're not?' if he had to really think about it, no he didn't. he was his quiet, serious self. someone whose focus was mostly just on dance. "not particularly." he stated with a faint and quick smile looking over at rowon before looking back up at the sky.

  “keep what?” he glances across the room expecting to see the missing bottle in hyuntae’s possession but is met with a loose white shirt – the very one he wears most often to bed. “just had to steal my favourite, huh?” he grins. “keep it warm.”

  he seals the box with forty-six. whichever of them is missing, he’ll eventually figure it out when he doesn’t have a scent to wear around a specific person.

hearing rowon comment on the shirt he choose. oh, he noticed. "yea. i will" he smiled. keeping his thoughts to himself. he wanted it so he could fall asleep for awhile. he wasn't sure how long the scent would last. but at least it was something, something to keep with him.

  it’s only natural. he has built each and every one of his relationships on the premise of being generous and reliable – so much, that there’s no room for any other development. he’s the one who gives. the one who takes care. that’s just the fact of the matter. ( but doesn’t it get exhausting? doesn’t it get — )

  he saves that thought for another day.

  “i like …” hyuntae didn’t ask, but rowon decides to tell him anyway. “your smile. the one you get when you’re excited about something. your eyes curl up, and you do this thing with your nose where it sort of scrunches. it’s cute. i like that one. and the one you have when you’re dancing. sometimes i get envious of how quickly you pick up choreography, but you have it. you’re a natural. i like … hearing you sing. hearing you laugh. i like the look on your face when you’re nervous. and when you take your deep breaths, it reminds me to breathe too.” his chest expands with an inhale, then he lets it out, slow. “but i like it the most when you’re like this – honest.”

tae kept his eyes looking up at the sky as he placed his hand on rowon's. he was completely speechless. he had never had someone tell them so many things they liked about him. was he emotionally stunted? why couldn't he speak so elogantly?

  oh, wait. those are the lyrics to ‘blue hour.’ bullet dodged.

  in his shoulders, in his jaw.

  it’s an instinctive response to protect himself from the inevitable that has already begun to weigh on his chest – but the hurt doesn’t come. i don’t know. rowon can’t help but raise an eyebrow. why don’t you know? he wants to ask. it reminds him of the conversation they had about hyuntae’s late mother; he’d inquired what she was like but hyuntae couldn’t recall – and yet, he cried for her. he felt for her. it’s a sentiment that rowon can never understand.

  they’re different in this regard. hyuntae feels strongly, but he doesn’t know why he feels the way he does. rowon, in contrast, is precise in articulating his emotions, but whether or not he feels them deeply is … debatable. does that mean neither of them know what love is? or is it just that they don’t love the same?

  as he mulls over these questions, he picks up a pebble and follows hyuntae’s lead, skipping it across the water. it sinks after two beats. he tries again. one, two —

  “you like me, don’t you?”

  the third pebble rolls between his fingers. his gaze settles upon the horizon.

rowon's statement echoed in his head. it was like rowon already knew his feelings, but wanted to hear it from him. but after his previous confession, he didn't have the strength to admit to it. he may have finally admitted it to himself, but how could he speak what had failed before?

"you're my best friend. if i didn't like you who would" he stated trying to sound nonchalant about it. he took a deep breath and laid down on the ground, looking up at the sky.