#ab6

Woong groggily woke from his dream, blinking at the afternoon sun that seeped in through the curtains of the living room. He sat up on the couch, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

He looked around drowsily before sighing. He often dreamed of that memory, trying to recall the retails of that night. He had such a flutter in his chest from the concert and his adrenaline and excitement was so high, it was as if it had never happened at all when his high wore off. 

As time went on, it was harder and harder to recall the exact details, everything feeling like a fuzzy blur. “I feel like I’m suffering from early-onset dementia,” he huffed to himself, falling back on the couch. He just wanted to remember a fun concert.

Was that too much to ask?

He was certain that he understood ABNEWs better now. This was the legendary ‘post-concert-depression’ that he’d heard so much about on Twitter. 

It was absolutely terrible. 

All he could think about was the flashing lights and the screams. It was so hard to remember the words that you had spoken or the expressions that you had made. 

He wanted to remember that experience he had at your concert all those months ago, and he wanted to remember it well, but he was having the hardest time doing it. He’d gotten a headache over it once or twice. 

He kept mulling over the fact that he’d been so close to the stage. He’d probably never get a chance to be that close to your stages ever again, ever since your popularity skyrocketed. 

What started out as your simple debut a few months ago had shot you into a flash of cameras, overseas trips, a sizable fan-base and the fitting title of: ‘Newest Global Monster Rookie’.

As a fan, he was proud of you. But as someone who wanted to see you again, he was sulky, because he felt as if he’d never relive that moment of being so close to your passion for the stage. 

Daehwi sprinted into the room, jumping onto the couch next to him. It almost gave poor Woong a heart-attack, but the youngest member decided to ignore that small fact. “You excited?” he asked, an eager enthusiasm glimmering in his eyes.

“For?” Woong asked, taking a deep breath after his scare, via Lee Daehwi.

The youngest nudged him a little. “For tomorrow,” he clarified. “Award Show appearance? Ringing any bells?” he teased. 

A soft smile grew on his face. “Yeah,” he said while nodding. “I’m really excited for it.” He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and trying to envision what it would be like for AB6IX to receive an award... Would it be beautiful? “I hope we do well,” he said honestly.

Daehwi chuckled. “You know, I would’ve thought you would’ve been a lot more excited about this,” he said, settling into the cushions and pulling out his phone to mess around on. 

Woong crack open an eye. “I am excited,” he assured him. “What’re you talking about?” 

“I mean, you’re crush is gonna be there, so I just thought—”

Woong shot up, making the youngest jump. “She’s gonna be there?” he asked, suddenly short of breath. Daehwi nodded. Suddenly, Woong felt very self-conscious about his appearance. He messed with his bangs, trying to pull them down further. “Should I get a haircut?” he asked.

Daehwi raised an amused brow. “Why?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to judge the layers through touch. “I just mean, I don’t want it to look ratty,” he said. “Should I cut it?” He ran his fingers through it again. He nodded to himself. “Yeah, I should cut it.” 

Daehwi laughed. “Oh my gosh—your hair looks fine!” he cackled. “You care an awful lot about this,” he noted, raising a brow. 

The older member sighed. “Yeah, I guess I do,” he huffed. He rubbed his eyes, as if hoping that would wake him up further. “It’s dumb, right?” 

“Just a little bit.”

Woong nodded slowly, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah... Yeah, it’s dumb,” he said, mostly trying to convince himself. He chuckled. “It’s a big event. Chances of me even actually seeing her anywhere other than on stage is really unlikely.” 

Daehwi tilted his head, staring at him curiously. “You know, I’ve never seen you like this before,” he mentioned. “Why do you like her so much?” 

He shrugged, honestly trying to figure it out himself. “I don’t know, really,” he said. “With the heart of a fan, I can simply say that she makes me happy and I want to support her, but I don’t know what else to say other than that. I guess I’m just so interested in what she’s like on-stage, I’ve gotten really curious about the off-stage aspects of her, too.” 

“You know,” Daehwi started, “she’s probably not exactly the same off-stage, right?” 

Woong scoffed under his breath. “Are any of us, really?” he asked. “We all change little aspects about ourselves that we think people will find unlikable. It’s just how our minds work.” Without realizing it, a small smile formed on his lips. 

“That’s why I think it’d be cool to know her personally,” he continued. “I’d like to know about the flaws that she tries to cover up, and maybe one day, she’d be able to see that flaws aren’t so bad. They’re just unique.” 

Daehwi started laughing. “You’re so whipped,” he said in English. 

His brows furrowed. “Wait—what’d you say?” he asked. The youngest only laughed harder, doubling over and nearly flying off the couch. “Lee Daehwi, what did you say?!” 

The group stepped out of the car with excited butterflies in their stomachs. They’d enviously looked at those able to walk across the red carpet before, and now they’d be the ones doing it.

It was a memory they’d keep with them for a long time.

Woong touched Woojin’s shoulder. “You gonna be okay?” he asked, referring to his ankle. 

Woojin nodded. “I’ll be fine,” he promised. He frowned. “I wish I could perform, though.” 

He gave him a small smile. “You’re doing enough,” he assured him. “You’re cool just by sitting there.” He scanned the crowd of reporters and paparazzi. It was overwhelming, but in the best way possible. 

It was like the thrill he got on stage; making him gain energy rather than fear. 

The inside was even more intimidating. There were so many people in the audience, all eagerly awaiting the upcoming performances. It was finally settling in for Woong that he would be performing on that stage soon. 

Him and his group. 

Those bright lights, cameras and expectant eyes would all be on them in less than an hour. It was a sensation that made shivers creep down his spine, but it was in an exhilarating way. 

He took a deep shaky breath and gave his pale cheek a light smack. “Let’s do well, okay?” he told himself under his breath while he looked up at the massive stage from his seat in between Youngmin and Woojin. 

He felt a light tap on his shoulder. It was so feather-light, he didn’t even jump. 

“I think you’ll do well,” he heard. 

He turned around; he felt his heart lurch when he saw the face of the person talking to him. It was the same face he’d seen months ago, though a new color had been dyed into the hair. 

It was your face. Your face that he’d looked up at as you performed on stage with such an addictive fire in your gaze. 

He stood up hurriedly, clumsily pushing his chair back with his knees. Luckily, you caught it and shoved it back upright before it could fall to the floor. He bowed a full 90 degree angle, his cheeks flushed red. “Thank you for saying that,” he choked out. “I’ll try my best!”

His words felt like vomit slipping uncontrollably out of his mouth and he was completely embarrassed (it especially didn’t help that his members were quietly laughing at him and silently judging him), but he was still grateful, down at the core of everything. 

He managed to say something at least. 

He had originally thought that if he finally got to speak to you, he’d be utterly tongue-tied, unable to say anything of true substance, but at least something came out. It was better than an awkward nod or a series of ‘um’s and ‘er’s. 

You laughed at him. “Why’re you being so formal?” you asked, tilting your head. “I debuted after you.”

He stood up straight, his cheeks burning. He couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes, so he just stared at the floor. “That’s true,” he stuttered, “but...” 

Daehwi turned back in his chair, looking at you. He beckoned you closer, making sure that Woong was still busy searching his brain for decent words. Once you’d leaned close enough, he whispered (not so subtly), “He’s a fan.”

Woong’s eyes widened. “Lee Daehwi!” he snapped, feeling the sudden need to smack the youngest in the face. 

He saw you cover your mouth, holding in a screech. “I’m a fan, too!” you blurted out. His jaw dropped. “That’s one of the reasons I was so surprised when I saw that I got to sit behind you!” 

He watched you stomp your feet with cute excitement. “I’ve been an AB6IX fan since pre-debut!” You looked to Woojin. “How’s your condition, by the way? I saw in an article that you weren’t doing so well.”

Woong supposed that was how his friendship with you began. After that small interaction, Daehwi and Donghyun kept forcing small-talk with you throughout the night. 

A simple ‘how are you enjoying the show so far?’ turned into a congratulations when you won an award, and then one for them when they won, and then exchanged phone-numbers. Fans of both you and AB6IX had gone crazy over the interactions, thinking it was the most endearing thing ever caught on camera.

Woong didn’t really know why, but he was incredibly grateful that his fans liked you as much as he did. There was a certain comfort in it. A feeling like, “Oh. I can openly be friends with you without upsetting the fans that I love”. 

It felt like having a never-ending army of support, and it made him feel warm.

He had always thought that if he kept his heart warm, a person with a warm heart would appear. He’d found himself wondering often nowadays if that warmhearted person was you. 

True enough, his first thoughts about you had been only platonic. He had a school-boy crush on you and he accepted that. He knew you’d be the person that made his heart flutter childishly, but he also expected it to fade quickly once he got to know you. 

He figured he would realize that you were both good friends, but nothing more.

Unfortunately for his busy heart and mind, that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t the case at all. 

In recent weeks, he’d started to find everything you did unbelievably endearing. Even the things he hated—like when you came up behind him and tickled under his arms—he found himself not being able to get enough of it. 

He wanted to be annoyed by you more. He wanted to be teased by you more. He wanted to marvel at you more. He wanted to laugh at your dumb jokes. He wanted to make fun of you for your ugly expressions (which he thought were cute, not ugly).

He wanted to sing with you more. He wanted to learn more choreography together and complain about things with you. He wanted you to stay his friend for a long time. He wanted for you to grow into his best friend. He wanted the both of you to continue to grow from there. 

He wanted your permission to love you fully.

He’d steeled himself in his mind. If he didn’t have your permission, he would give up. It would be slow and painful, but he would do it for your sake. If he couldn’t have you as lover, he refused to lose you as a friend. 

You’d grown too precious to him. 

That’s the reason why he was so hesitant to look at you as you both looked out the window, watching the sunset. 

You glanced at him, a chuckle creeping up the back of your throat. “Why aren’t you looking at me?” you asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the nice atmosphere that was floating around.

He shrugged. “You look ugly,” he said simply. 

You faked a gasp. “I think you mean: gorgeous!” you said, flipping your hair sassily over your shoulder. 

He started laughing. You had a way of putting him at ease. “Fine,” he sighed, finally looking at you. “Gorgeous.” It might’ve just been the color of the sky seeping through the glass, but it looked like your cheeks had flushed red. 

He scanned your features. 

Everyone on the earth has two eyes, a nose, and pair of lips. Overall, nobody is that different from the other... So, why did you look so ethereal to him in this moment? Why did you make his heart hurt so much he felt like crying?

Why did his eyes actually well up?

You looked at him with such concern, it made him grateful for you all over again. “Woongie?” you asked, shuffling closer to him. “Are you okay?” You put a hand on his shoulder. A small show of affection, but greatly appreciated. 

He gave a watery smile, shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I honestly don’t know.” He threw his head back and breathed deeply, trying to keep his tears from spilling out. “I guess I just fully realized that you’re actually beautiful,” he sighed out, his voice raspy. He felt your hand tense on his shoulder. “Like, in that indescribable way you hear about in stories.”

You tittered nervously. “What’re you talking about?” you asked. “You’re acting weird.” 

Once he was sure that his tears would stay in (at least for the time being), he looked to you, trying to gauge your expression. You didn’t look like you would pull away from him. He could trust that much. “Can I ask you something?” he wondered out loud.

You nodded slowly. “Of course you can,” you said. “Anything.” 

“Do you think I deserve to be happy?” he asked with an underlying hesitation in his tone. He didn’t want it to sound like he was guilt-tripping you. 

You looked shocked at the question, your eyes widening. You nodded without hesitation. “Of course I do!” you said. “There’s no one in this world I know that deserves more blessings than you.” Your hand fell from his shoulder, resting unwittingly on his thigh. “All I wish for you is a hopeful life,” you admitted. 

He nibbled his bottom lip thoughtfully, contemplating whether or not he should actually say what he was thinking. With a shaky breath, he made the decision to do so. He didn’t want to live with the regret of never saying this to you. 

“You know...” he started nervously, his palms becoming sweaty and the tips of his ears turning red. He shifted in his seat, not meeting your eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’d be really happy... with you,” he finally said. 

He could sense your silence. Your lack of response. It scared him. 

“I’m not saying this to make you feel like you have to return my feelings,” he blurted out, forcing himself to meet your shaking eyes. “I’m saying this because I just wanted you to know how I felt, but I’m putting no pressure on you whatsoever.” 

He stood up, taking a deep breath. “So,” he started, “we can make a decision right now, and you can change your mind whenever you want; no strings attached.” He stood straight and closed his eyes tightly. “If you want things to stay the way they are now, stay seated. If you want... something more,” he said, the scarlet of his ears darkening, “then you can take a step closer to me.” 

He waited with bated breath to hear anything from you. 

A word. A breath. A slight ruffling of clothes, but he heard nothing. 

After what felt like an hour of deafening silence, he finally heard you say something. “On the count of three?” you said in a small voice. Dare he say, shyly. 

He nodded vigorously—reminiscent of a child—his eyes still shut tight. “One,” he started.

“Two,” you continued.

His heart was beating out of his chest. He would guiltily admit to looking forward to hearing you step toward him. He knew it was wrong, but he was left hoping and wanting. He was hoping so much. 

“Three,” he said, barely above a whisper. 

He waiting, his hands shaking. 

Nothing. Not even a noise. 

He chuckled at himself, trying to mask his disappointment. He started opening his eyes. “So, I guess you don’t feel the—?” He was cut off by your arms wrapping around his middle. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, muffled by his chest. “I was zoned out, so I didn’t hear the ‘three’.” You nuzzled farther into him. “I like you, too...” 

He blinked in surprise, not even able to hug you back. Instead, his arms just hung awkwardly in the air, stiff and unmoving. “You... do?” he stuttered. He shook his head, as if trying to wake himself from this unrealistic dream. “For real? No jokes? No feeling obligated to like me back?” 

You laughed at him, pulling away just slightly to meet his eyes. You grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms down farther so that they could snake around your waist. “I’m not kidding,” you said, your eyes turning damp. “I like you,” you whispered. “I really like you.” 

Woong felt a smile spread across his face, growing uncontrollably larger as the second ticked by. “I really like you, too,” he said, a light, fluttery feeling in his chest. “Like... A lot!”

What did people call that feeling?

Affection? Fondness?

Ah, right!

Love.

.

.

.

Hmm.... Mayhaps I am a little fond of this boy. J u s t maybe. 

Thanks for the request, Anon! I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you enjoyed it a lot and I hope it met expectations. Have a good day/afternoon/evening!