#moifics

Yeo Hwanwoong was conflicted. 

His own feelings and emotions might as well become the most convoluted puzzle there ever was. There was an unfathomable feeling within Hwanwoong, but he couldn’t comprehend what it was. Whatever it was, it was stubborn. Adamant. It comes back every time he tries to shove it away, in a locked box buried deep within his mind for all he knows. And it bothered him. Like a nagging feeling from deep within his mind. He wasn’t even sure if it was a good kind or a bad kind. It was just… confusing.

What he knew, though—and he was certain of this—was the root cause of all this. The root cause of the chain of events that is this indescribable yet overwhelming feeling, his bewilderment about all this, his irascibility.

The damned Kim Youngjo.

Hwanwoong didn’t believe it at first either. But as more and more evidence compiled itself up against him, he wasn’t given any other choice but to believe it. 

It wasn’t a vivid memory, but Hwanwoong could vaguely recall the first time he noticed this odd feeling of his. It was quite a long time ago, actually, before his group was even called what it is now. Geonhak and Dongju hadn’t joined back then. It was only him, Seoho, Keonhee, and Youngjo. They were practicing for the monthly evaluations in the practice room, Hwanwoong crying out counts with heavy breathing as the screeches of shoes scraping against the wooden floor resonated throughout. During the break, then, as Hwanwoong sat down against the wall to take a big gulp of water, Youngjo rested his head on his thighs.

“Your thighs are now my personal pillow,” he had said, smiling with that greasy smile of his. Hwanwoong remembered not saying anything as a response, which elicited the older man to pinch his cheek. 

If that was any other circumstances, Hwanwoong would’ve cringed and hit Youngjo on the shoulder playfully while laughing. He and Youngjo had always been close, too, so this shouldn’t be out of the norm for the two. Youngjo had always been a touchy person. Not to him only, but also to the other members. So, instead of acting like that was something normal, of course what happened was that he froze. He couldn’t say anything as a response. He was flustered. 

Hwanwoong hated that he could barely act normal around Youngjo because of this. He hated how his face would become increasingly hot whenever Youngjo did so. He hated how his brain would short-circuit whenever Youngjo had his hand on his thigh. Most of all, though, he hated how his stomach would churn like crazy whenever Youngjo told him that he loves him. It didn’t matter whether it was for a game, for the fans, or even off camera. It always happens, and Hwanwoong hated it.

However, he did not, in any way or form, hate Youngjo, even with all this confusing set of events that his older friend unbeknowingly made him go through. Hwanwoong knew Youngjo wasn’t doing this on purpose, as the latter is also touchy to most if not all of the members. But—maybe it was just him—he honestly thought that Youngjo attended to him more than any other members. He wasn’t sure if that was an important factor or not, or whether it was actually true. Nonetheless, that thought struck him once he noticed that Youngjo never asked the other members to sit on his lap or to snuggle with him. 

But perhaps it was just because Youngjo was comfortable with Hwanwoong. Yeah, surely, that was the reason.

Because if it were any other reason, Hwanwoong wouldn’t know how to take it in.

There were a few times when an overwhelming surge of emotions would flood him whenever he saw Youngjo giving any sort of affection towards the other members. Hwanwoong refused to validate these emotions, but one thing he knew was that they weren’t anything good. He could tell it was hostile. A mixture of spite and insecurity of some sort. It happens whenever he sees Youngjo babying Dongju, whenever Youngjo lunges at Geonhak for affection, whenever Youngjo glances at Seoho with a look full of affection, and whenever Youngjo hug-attacks Keonhee from behind. 

To put it simply, Hwanwoong… disliked it.

These convoluted emotions weren't as glaring just a few months ago, despite the fact that they have been bugging him unceasingly. It was as though there was the loud ticking of a clock at the back of his mind, always going tick, tock, tick, tock without him having the ability to habituate to it. Annoying. 

This week, however, it had become immensely obtrusive. So obtrusive, even, that it has inadvertently affected Hwanwoong’s day-to-day mood. Perhaps it was the culminating result of his avoidance towards his emotions. Like a drawer that can barely contain the items it was keeping inside to the point that it is unable to close completely, its insides peeking out through the gap. If the drawer’s owner were to pile more and more items inside, it could probably explode due to overstoring. 

Hwanwoong was treading on thin ice when it comes to his current emotions, but of course he didn’t realize this. He was too busy rejecting his own emotions to notice that they were on the brink of exploding.

Just at the beginning of this week, as they were practicing for their next performance, his lack of emotional control had impelled him to chew out Dongju when the latter placed his feet just on a slightly different angle than it was supposed to be. Dongju was clearly shaken up. The way he stammered out a quiet apology all the while looking down at his fidgeting fingers broke Hwanwoong’s heart.

The others’ eyes on him weren’t of much help either, Youngjo’s especially. Hwanwoong could see them exchange stunned and concerned looks at one another from the studio’s mirror, which only increased his nervousness by a tenfold. Everyone knows that Hwanwoong always puts on his strict dance instructor facade whenever they’re practicing their dance moves, but he never gets worked up, ever. Something was wrong, and they knew it.

Hwanwoong snapped out of his emotional distress almost immediately. He tried to soothe the boy by giving him a pat on the head and a small apology, but this was a futile attempt as Dongju had avoided eye contact with him for the rest of the practice.

They went on to run through their movements for a good few hours before finally stopping. Hwanwoong left the room then, with his water bottle in his hand, unable to cope with the intense discomfort that was hanging in the air of the studio. He was just finishing his drink when Geonhak came through the door and strode up to him.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Hwanwoong glanced away, his sight fixed on a spot under a decoration on the wall. “You really don’t waste your time, do you.”

Geonhak’s lips twitched. “I don’t know what you’re going through right now, but Dongju didn’t deserve that. He was really taken aback, you know.”

“I know,” Hwanwoong said. Then, after a sigh, again he said, “I know… I’m sorry. To Dongju, you, and the others. My emotions went wild, I guess.”

The sincerity in Hwanwoong’s voice pushed the anger away from Geonhak’s features. He crossed his arms, saying, “Woong… If something’s bothering you, you should tell us. It’s only gonna get worse if you keep hiding things.”

“I know.”

“We’ve all been together for more than a few years now, and we’ll also be together for more than a few years too. You should know that it’s necessary for us to have each other’s back every time, whether it be for physical or mental problems.”

“I know.”

“Hwanwoong.” Geonhak stressed his name with such sternness that it unwittingly stirred the insides of Hwanwoong’s stomach. “You’re only gonna hurt more people if you keep on being like this. And that’s not gonna be good for our group. Camaraderie is the most important thing for groups like us.”

Hwanwoong bit his lips. His grip on his water bottle was tighter than before, so tight that it began to shake just slightly.

Of course he knew all of that. All of what Geonhak just said—he knew that more than anyone else. He knew that his inability to identify and describe his own feelings and emotions would sooner or later hurt his friends. But what could he do? His lack of emotional control was the one warping his mind and thoughts, and on top of it all, his pride was preventing him from opening up to his friends. It was even harder to vent to his friends when one of them was actually the cause of all of his pent up feelings and emotions. It was painful—his own awareness knew of all of these things, yet he had no control over them.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Hwanwoong said after a while, his voice heavy and tired. “I don’t think I’m ready to tell what’s bothering me. Later, maybe, but not now.”

He knew Geonhak was disappointed at this, proven by the disapproving frown etched across his lips, but he was sure he’d understand.

“Okay, then. That’s alright. Just make sure this doesn’t happen again, okay? Try to control your emotions,” Geonhak chided as warmly as he could. “Come find me if you need anything.”

Hwanwoong merely hummed and nodded. He was too restless to talk to anyone at the moment, so he excused himself and made his way to his room. It was a good thing they didn’t have any other schedule for today. Hwanwoong could have the rest of the day all to himself in the comfort of his own bed, pondering over his guilt about what had happened earlier and how to solve the conundrum that is his own feelings.

The next day, the six of them had a schedule to record for their next performance. As usual, it took a bit more effort to wake Hwanwoong up compared to the others, as told by Seoho. It took him a full hour to shower and prepped his skin, though soon he then found himself sitting on the sofa behind the assigned producer for this song.

Just before he sat down, though, a painful decision immediately presented itself to Hwanwoong. Since he was the last one to come thanks to his habit of oversleeping, the spots on the sofa were all occupied except one at the one side of the sofa, right beside Youngjo. Hwanwoong chewed on the bottom of his lips. He didn’t want to sit there, except maybe if he wanted his soul to leave his body. He refused to deal with his feelings today. Yesterday was traumatizing enough, with how he shouted at Dongju for no reason because of his stupid impulsivity, followed by him being chided by Geonhak.

Embarrassing.

The empty spot was the nearest one from the door where Hwanwoong was standing, so when his feet brought himself to the other end of the sofa where it was the furthest from the door, Geonhak—who was sitting there with one hand on the armrest—looked up with eyebrows furrowed.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. The look he gave to Hwanwoong was stern; eyes narrow and lips a straight line. It wasn’t quite visible for the others to notice, but just enough to tell Hwanwoong that he hadn’t forgotten about what’d happened yesterday.

“Wanna sit. Move your hand away.”

Geonhak raised an eyebrow. “On the armrest?”

“Yeah, duh.”

A slight trace of suspicion lingered across Geonhak’s countenance, but he did as told anyway. Not wasting any time, Hwanwoong took his share of the printed papers containing the lyrics of the song on the table and propped himself on the armrest.

Keonhee was the first one to go inside the booth to record. Hwanwoong would be the third after Dongju, as decided through rock-paper-scissors just a minute earlier. As he waited for his turn, Hwanwoong had his eyes glued onto the papers on his hand. Hwanwoong had a habit of concentrating a little bit too much, especially when there’d be a chance of embarrassing himself in front of a group of people by failing something. He was a perfectionist when it came to his performances. He would go as far as to block out his surroundings just to make sure he wouldn’t make a mistake later on.

While he was humming along to the imaginary tune of the song, a pair of eyes glanced over. Hwanwoong hadn't noticed Geonhak’s eyes spying on him. Its attention soon changed to the oldest member sitting furthest from them.

Something clicked in Geonhak’s head.

He nodded to himself. The pieces of puzzle were now complete and the picture it’d produced was as clear as the day. Geonhak had merely speculated, of course, but he had faith in his own deduction.

Geonhak came up with an idea. This problem of Hwanwoong certainly wasn’t going to be solved by itself, considering how his younger friend was dealing with it. What made the whole situation more complicated was that the antecedent himself had no clue that all of this was happening in the first place.

A third party had to step in, obviously.

Meanwhile, Hwanwoong’s train of thought was interrupted as he realized that Seoho was done with his session. He made his way to the booth then, placing his papers on the sheet music stand. After adjusting the mic to his height and wearing the headphones, he looked up to the other side of the room to give the producer the OK—only to see Youngjo smiling brightly at him, his fingers a form of a heart. Good luck, he mouthed.

Hwanwoong's heart skipped a beat.

There it was again. That strange feeling. Hwanwoong could feel his cheeks heating up once again, as usual whenever Youngjo does any kind of affection towards him. He pressed his lips together and glanced away. He didn't want to repeat yesterday's event. He also didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of someone he barely knew, especially if that person was in charge of their music. Hence, Hwanwoong merely responded with a feeble smile, and as he didn't want to deal with Youngjo anymore, he gave the producer a thumbs up to tell him to proceed.

The whole recording session lasted for about three more hours before they were let go. All six of them trudged back to their dorms with the apparent layer of fatigue coating the whole group. Despite that, they were still messing around with each other and throwing jabs here and there, especially with how Geonhak’s voice cracked in the middle of his recording earlier. 

Hwanwoong wasn’t participating in the banter though. His mind was anywhere but there; demeanor pensive and unheeding. He was mulling over how he wasn’t as good as he’d expected earlier. His vocal chords had given up by the end of his session, so the producer told him to rest and that they’ll continue to polish Hwanwoong’s lines on the session two days after this.

Keonhee suggested a movie night, which the others acquiescently agreed to, including Hwanwoong. When the coping mechanisms he usually uses had failed him in times like these, he might as well vicariously immerse himself in another’s perfect life and adventure.

As soon as they’d gotten back to their dorms, Seoho, Keonhee, and Dongju raced as quickly as possible to the sofa. This was due to the deal the six of them made the first time they did a movie night—the first one to go sit on the sofa will be given the opportunity to pick the movie. 

Keonhee, the one who initially proposed the suggestion to watch for tonight, had won. With a grin on his face and the other two slumped at his sides, he picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

“There’s this movie I wanna watch. Been wanting to go see it, but there hasn’t been any time, especially with how packed our schedules are,” Keonhee had said as he scrolled through the catalog, eyes squinting in search for the movie he was talking about.

Dongju frowned when Keonhee finally picked his movie. “‘Ready or Not’? Seriously? Isn’t there anything better to watch?”

“Hey, I like horror, okay! And tonight is just the perfect night for that, with all of us present, y’know.”

“I don’t mind,” Seoho chimed in. “Why, is our maknae scaaaredddd?” 

While Dongju bent himself across an amused Keonhee to get a bite of a terror-stricken Seoho, Hwanwoong, Youngjo, and Geonhak began to take a seat on what was left of the remaining seats. Geonhak was about to sit on the remaining seat of the sofa that Keonhee, Dongju, and Seoho were in, but Hwanwoong abruptly butted him away by kicking him lightly on the shins. He sat on it afterwards, a victorious smile on his face.

“Woong, what the hell—” 

“First come, first serve,” Hwanwoong grinned mischievously. 

Although from the outside it’d seemed like Hwanwoong stole Geonhak's just to take the piss out of him, in reality it was because if Geonhak were to sit there, he'd have to sit with Youngjo on the two-seater sofa.

Nope. Anything but that.

“I’ll start the film, ‘kay?” said Keonhee, and the others, synchronized, answered, “Yeeeeees.” 

And with a press of a button, the movie started.

The premise was an interesting one, as Keonhee had explained as the opening scene played. Geonhak shushed him then as the action escalated, though once the opening scene had ended, Keonhee talked again. This time, Dongju threw a pillow at him.

"The aunt's so creepy," Seoho commented.

"Maybe she's hiding something," Youngjo added. "Like a dark past, or something."

"You think it's gonna be that cliché?"

"I mean, it's kinda obvious, isn't it?"

It was more or less fifteen minutes into the movie when the plot began to escalate. Keonhee and Seoho were leaning forward, eyes fixed on the movie as though their lives depended on it. Dongju was hugging his knees, looking at the TV through it with his eyebrows furrowed. Geonhak also looked immersed—Hwanwoong swore he'd heard a gasp come out of his older friend's mouth when the main protagonist had her first encounter with the enemy.

There was Youngjo, too. Hwanwoong did not realize this, but his attention had been sidetracked by the oldest. He watched the other closely; from how he flinched when a jumpscare ensued, how he chuckled when a funny bit took place, to how his eyes gradually began to droop as the clock ticked closer to midnight.

Hwanwoong took a pillow from between him and Dongju and hugged it tightly until it covered his blood-rushed face. It happened again. It always does whenever he thinks of Youngjo, or whenever Youngjo is of close proximity, or whenever Youngjo gives him any kind of affection.

Just… Youngjo. Youngjo's own existence does things to Hwanwoong. And he hated it. For the love of god, he'd do anything to get rid of these intricate feelings so that he'd never have to feel them again.

Before long, Youngjo stood up, placing back the pillow he'd hugged onto the sofa. Hwanwoong averted his glance almost immediately back to the screen, displaying a poor interpretation of acting as though he hadn't been staring at and analyzing him for the past twenty minutes.

"Gonna go to the toilet, be right back," he said as he left the room.

"'Kaaay," Seoho responded.

Hwanwoong was sure only a couple of seconds had passed—okay, a full minute maybe, but it hadn't been that long since Youngjo went to the bathroom when Geonhak also stood up and muttered "bathroom" before striding off. No one paid much attention to him, though, as the plot was becoming more and more exhilarating as it went on.

Hwanwoong, too, was fully immersed like the others. His nails had become an abysmal form from chewing on it too much as to release tension. His eyes were fixed onto the screen; the only thing in his head was his hope for the protagonist's fate. As the others were chirping about comments of the movie, Hwanwoong joined in too. His nose scrunched and he hissed when one of the enemies had successfully maimed the protagonist. 

It had seemed like Youngjo had completely slipped off his thoughts. His head that was previously filled with an assortment of puzzling feelings and emotions—all gone. Like a messy room that was finally being cleaned by its owner. What comes next? A sense of peace, perhaps. Hwanwoong smiled. During this time, things didn't seem so bad at all.

Someone's arms wrapped themselves around him.

Hwanwoong froze.

"Boo!" Youngjo's voice resonated in Hwanwoong's ears.

“Huh—” 

Blood rushed onto Hwanwoong's cheeks. His heartbeat picked up its pace from how he could literally feel Youngjo's breathing against his neck. His stomach felt as though it just did a backflip.

Hwanwoong frantically struggled to get out of Youngjo’s arms as though they were boiling. A couple of seconds later, he was out—followed by a thump of palm against cheek.

It felt like time had frozen. Every single muscle of Hwanwoong's body froze. No one spoke a word—their widened eyes expressed a lot, though. The sound of the movie had stopped; maybe Keonhee paused it. Hwanwoong didn't know, he didn't see. The only thing he could focus on right now was his hand, stinging from the contact earlier. His heart might as well as jump out of his chest with how hard it was pounding. His every veins pounded, like hammers whacking against his head again and again and again.

“Woong…?” Hwanwoong didn’t know who said that nor did he care about responding. He was mortified. The worst had actually happened right in front of everyone. This was a nightmare. Hwanwoong stood there, breathing heavily, sweating; basking in the bewildered stares of his friends.

And Youngjo. Oh, Youngjo. His face was a canvas painted with hurt, his cheek red from his impulsive slap. Hwanwoong wanted to cry then and there. This was the last thing he'd wanted to happen. There was no rescue from this embarrassment. The memory would be seared into everyone's head forever, and their friendship would never be the same.

So, he ran. He ran to his room and slammed the door shut.

The moment Hwanwoong crashed onto the bed, tears burst forth, spilling down to his cheeks and onto his pillow. Painful sobs filled the room, its echoes like a fingernail running down a blackboard. Everything was crumbling away—his pride, his friendship, his career—all because of his ego. His refusal to admit that he had fallen completely and utterly in love with Kim Youngjo.

After all, Hwanwoong wasn't stupid. It wasn’t like he was an innocent boy who has never gone through any romantic relationships. Teenage year was full of that—hormonal, immature adolescents looking for romance, acting as though they’d grasped the real meaning of love from just watching drama and movies. He’d gone through it, like everybody else.

He knew it all along. His feelings for Youngjo… Hwanwoong wouldn’t go as far as to call it love per se, but every single of Youngjo’s touch, the way his eyes sparkle with affection whenever he smiles at Hwanwoong, how he just emits a sense of comfortableness that not only Hwanwoong, but the other members also love… 

Stupid, stupid Hwanwoong.

If he wasn’t so in denial, things wouldn’t have gone this bad.

A knock from the door broke Hwanwoong out of his reverie. The voice that followed suit made him abruptly sit straight up, eyes wide and chagrined.

“Woong, are you okay? Can I come in?” Youngjo’s muffled voice said behind the door.

Hwanwoong stayed silent for a moment, thinking, before saying, “Come in.”

Their eyes met for the first time in a while. Youngjo’s eyebrows were furrowed, concern painted upon his countenance. The state Hwanwoong was in didn’t help either—hair disheveled, eyes puffy and red and wet, and the same goes for his cheeks. Hwanwoong looked away almost immediately. He wiped his eyes, refusing to look into the other’s eyes.

“Bet I look horrible,” Hwanwoong chuckled in disdain.

Youngjo didn’t respond. Instead, he took a few steps forward and made himself at home on the seat adjacent to Hwanwoong’s dresser. Hwanwoong watched him closely from the corner of his eyes.

“I know something’s been bothering you, Woong. You’re not exactly the best liar around here.”

Hwanwoong pressed his lips together. He couldn’t back off now. Things were already bad as it is, and the only one who could mend it was him.

As a response, he only hummed.

Youngjo sighed. “From the looks of it, it seems like I’m the one causing you to be like this. Right? Am I wrong?”

“Not… necessarily.”

“No?”

Hwanwoong hugged his knees. As he spoke, his lower jaw trembled from resisting his sobs, “I’m the one causing this. Not you. None of this is your fault, hyung. Don’t… don’t blame yourself.”

Youngjo looked absolutely devastated. “Woong… Do you know how much it kills me to see you like this? I hate that I can’t do anything to help you—not to mention you’ve been avoiding me. Tell me, Woong.”

And just like that, Hwanwoong broke down again. This time when Youngjo reached out to hold his hand, he didn’t flinch away. Instead, he accepted it, and it was the most wonderful feeling he’d ever felt. A sense of relief washed through him and he felt peaceful. It was as though a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

His ego had made him think that the only one suffering from this was him and him only, but truthfully, other people were also affected. If he hadn’t been so egocentric, Youngjo and Geonhak and Dongju wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

Youngjo waited patiently, rubbing circles on the younger one’s palms, while Hwanwoong was trying to calm himself down. Eventually his tears stopped and his lips ceased from trembling. He took a deep breath, drawing up any kind of courage he had left within him to assist him with the next few explanations he owed Youngjo. Nodding to himself, he began to talk.

“I… I think I like you, hyung.”

Hwanwoong glanced at the other from the corner of his eyes, expecting some kind of reaction from the other man, but there was nothing. Not even an ounce of surprise nor uneasiness. Youngjo’s face was blank.

“No—Not I think. I do like you, hyung. Very much.” Hwanwoong’s sentence ended with a bit of a quiver. Not love, no. It’s not that deep, yet.

The warmth of Youngjo’s hand on his own sent a sense of serenity down Hwanwoong’s body. He would be lying if he said he disliked it. 

The older man didn’t respond, so Hwanwoong took it as a cue for him to continue. “I don’t know when or where it started. But, um… You know how I have recently been avoiding being touched by you? Your skinship or whatever. Or that I’ve been avoiding you altogether?”

Hwanwoong watched the older man closely. He hummed.

“I, well… It’s because, um, you—ahh, how do I say it…” To Hwanwoong right now, trying to find the right words that could do your feelings justice was like trying to fit yourself in a shirt that is considerably smaller than you. It was impossible.

“Take your time, Woong. We have all the time in the world right now.” The smile that followed Youngjo’s words sent another wave of courage into Hwanwoong. “I know it’s hard to put what you’re feeling into words.”

Hwanwoong nodded. “Um, yeah. So, anyways—it’s because, um—” Despite Youngjo’s pep talk, his stammers remained. He pushed, nonetheless, forcing himself to speak up. “—Basically, you make me crazy, hyung.”

A hint of a smile crept across Youngjo’s features, but it left as fast as it appeared. 

“This is seriously embarrassing for me to say so l-listen up because I’m not gonna say it twice,” Hwanwoong stammered. He took a deep breath before carrying on, “Just… It’s hard to control myself when you keep… keep on being so close to me. T-Touching me so affectionately, holding my hand almost every time, no matter if we’re out on a show or inside the company… Lying on me like it doesn’t give me butterflies everytime. Saying you love me so nonchalantly like it doesn’t give me any false hope that you actually mean it in, um, more than a—a platonic way…”

Tears threatened to spill once again as his voice began to waver. Youngjo seemed to notice this, because his grip on Hwanwoong’s hand tightened.

“On top of it all, I don’t want to ruin, um—our friendship. I don’t want our relationship to be ruined. The fact that our relationship with each other also functions as an integral part of the group’s success isn’t helping either. If our friendship is ruined, the group’s, um, what is it—charm? Charisma? Whatever. What I’m trying to say is that if our friendship changes for the worst just because of some stupid feelings that I develop towards you, then the impact will not only damage our relationship, but our group as a whole.”

Hwanwoong was panting the moment he finished. All of those sentences had been uttered out under a single minute and it didn’t even dawn upon him. Youngjo, on the other hand, pulled back in his seat. He crossed his arms and Hwanwoong swore he could hear the mechanical whirs from within his head with how thoughtful he looked. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I can see where you’re coming from,” Youngjo nodded. 

At this point, Hwanwoong was more than a little bit perplexed. Why is Youngjo reacting so calmly? Isn’t he surprised? Why isn’t he responding to the fact that Hwanwoong, like, liked him?

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Hwanwoong blurted out before he could stop himself.

Youngjo cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised. “I want to listen to your whole perspective first before saying mine. I want to understand why you’ve been acting like you’ve been for the past few days,” he said. “If you want some sort of vulnerability from me, Woong, I can tell you that I was hurt seeing as you’d avoided me all week.”

Hwanwoong cursed at himself.

“Do you still want to continue?”

Hwanwoong nodded. “That’s why I became so avoidant with my own feelings. I was in denial. I didn’t want to acknowledge that I fell—um, had feelings for you. Romantic ones. I guess because of that I became so pissy, like how I shouted at Dongju.”

“Dongju was so shaken back then.”

“Yeah… I felt so bad.” Hwanwoong sighed. “Anyways… I suppose I unconsciously made my anger a temporary protection from my own real feelings and emotions. Well, I knew that, but… I couldn’t stop myself.”

A suffocating silence followed suit the moment Hwanwoong stopped his rambles. He took this time to compose himself, to take a deep breath and wipe off any remaining dry tears sticking on his cheeks. He caught a glimpse of Youngjo while doing so, and all of the fondness Hwanwoong had toward the older man that he previously had hidden deep within his consciousness came back all at once. 

This was one of the reasons Hwanwoong fell in love with him. Youngjo’s affectionate upbringing was a nice addition for sure, but his deep consideration and attentiveness for others were honestly the most attractive part about him, in the opinion of Hwanwoong. Exactly like this moment—the way he had been listening to Hwanwoong rambles as if his words were music, even though they were one step closer to be deemed as incoherent. He loved it. Hwanwoong loved Youngjo.

“Is there something on my face?” Youngjo’s words snapped Hwanwoong out of his reverie, and he panicked.

“Oh! No, no, uh… Nothing. It’s… nothing,” Hwanwoong stuttered. “A-Anyways, I think I’m done.”

“Oh, okay.” Youngjo repositioned himself in his seat. He was silent for a couple of moments, collecting his thoughts perhaps.

“You know, I was about to say that you’re the densest person I’ve ever known, but then again I’m also at fault here since it never really crossed my mind that me doing all that would cause such a reaction out of you.” Youngjo scratched the back of his head, a sheepish smile crossed his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Huh?

Hwanwoong blinked, dumbfounded.

He was about to go on a rant about how things weren’t Youngjo’s fault and that he shouldn’t blame himself, but after processing every single word that the older man had said, Hwanwoong couldn’t help but malfunction.

As if sensing his bewilderment, Youngjo took both of Hwanwoong’s hands into a gentle grip and sent him the fondest look he’d ever received from someone. At that moment, his cheeks became warm for the umpteenth time.

“Haven’t you realized that the feelings are mutual, Woong?” Youngjo said, and Hwanwoong wanted to scream.

With his hands over his mouth, Hwanwoong blurted out, “—Shut up.”

Youngjo raised his eyebrows. “Woong?”

Hwanwoong’s hands travelled up to his face, covering it completely. Behind that, he dissolved into laughter, one that was afflicted and painful to hear. Youngjo’s attempt to get him to talk remained disregarded as he kept on shaking with laughter. Not long after that, though, the laughter was replaced by subtle sobs.

“Hyung, please tell me you’re joking.”

Youngjo knitted his eyebrows. “I’m not. I’ve liked you ever since… Well, I don’t know either, to be honest, but I do. Something about you makes me comfortable, Woong. I feel at home when you’re around.”

Hwanwoong couldn’t even describe what he was feeling at the moment. He was angry, euphoric, confused—like incongruous ingredients being mixed into a cauldron of utter nonsense, stirred and fused together until they form an indistinguishable blob of feelings and emotions.

He wanted to be angry at Youngjo for not telling him upfront that he liked him, but he could understand it better than anyone else why Youngjo didn’t. It was probably for the same reason why Hwanwoong avoided acknowledging his own feelings; it was because he was afraid. But Youngjo dealt with his own feelings by projecting them into affection, unlike Hwanwoong who projected them into animosity.

“I was also afraid, Hwanwoong. The possibility of our friendship being destroyed by just some petty romantic feelings was too high, and I couldn’t risk it. So my brain told me to hide it. But I’m naturally a very affectionate person, you know that, right? So… yeah. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were also… y’know.”

Next thing he knew, Hwanwoong’s limbs were moving by themselves. His hands wrapped themselves around Youngjo, so tightly that if it were any tighter, he was sure Youngjo would’ve begun choking. 

Hwanwoong’s whole body was shaking. Like a dam that’d just been broken, ceaseless tears began to stream down his face. His silent wail was muffled against Youngjo’s shoulder, and it intensified once the other started to apply gentle pats on Hwanwoong’s back.

“Hey, hey, now, why are you crying again?” Youngjo laughed, but a faint crack could be heard at the end of his sentence. “Everything’s fine now. You don’t need to suppress your emotions anymore. Oh—but that’s more reason to cry, huh? Well then, cry your heart out, Woong.”

Those simple yet effective words sent a wave of butterflies coursing through Hwanwoong’s veins, easing the whimpers that had overtaken him before. By the time the two broke the hug, Hwanwoong’s snivels were mostly alleviated, though a few sniffles had escaped from his lips. He was still shaking too—from his shoulders to the tip of his fingertips. 

Youngjo brought his hand up to Hwanwoong’s hair, ruffling with it. “It’s okay now. Everything’s been sorted out. Well, except if you still have some more things to say?”

“No,” Hwanwoong shook his head, but something struck his mind immediately. “Oh, um—can I ask you something?”

“Sure, ask away.”

“Why do you, ah, like me?”

Youngjo blinked. He hummed for a short while, cocking his head to the side as he did so. Hwanwoong waited, watching the other cautiously with squinted eyes.

“I like a lot of things about you. It’s mainly because you’re absolutely adorable, though.” The shit-eating grin that followed Youngjo’s words made Hwanwoong want to punch him.

“Oh, come on! I’m serious!” Hwanwoong pouted, playfully hitting the other’s chest.

“Okay, okay! Well, where do I start? I love how passionate you are about dancing, first of all. Or maybe just your passion in general. I love how you always put your best when it comes to things, even ones that you don’t necessarily like.” Youngjo paused for a moment, then continued, grinning again, “And your smile. I love your smile a lot.”

Which only drew another playful punch to the chest from Hwanwoong. “Cheesy.”

“Hey! I’m being serious here!”

This time, Hwanwoong didn’t respond. Instead, he buried his face against Youngjo’s chest, withholding the fact that his face was beet red. So much has happened for the past few days. The humiliation, the anger, the melancholy—those things seemed so out of reach now, specifically with how everything had turned out in the end.

It felt unreal. This seemed too good to be true.

“Woong?” Youngjo called out, lifting Hwanwoong’s chin so that he would face the other.

“So what happens now?”

“Huh?”

“What happens now, now that our feelings are mutual? Are we going to date? But we can’t, right? Dating another member of your group is just… unspoken of. Right?”

With the same amount of warmthness he retained upon his smile, along with the soft caresses of his thumb against Hwanwoong’s cheek, Youngjo asked, “Do you want to date?”

Hwanwoong thought about it for a while. “No… Not right now. Commitment’s too scary for me. I don’t want to be too fast with relationships—I don’t want to ruin us.”

Youngjo nodded appreciatively, but he failed to hide the dejection that was apparent in his eyes. “I get it. I agree, too, to be honest.” There was a pause again. Youngjo was thinking. “What do you think about taking things slowly?”

Hwanwoong blinked. “Taking things slowly?”

“Yeah, like… We’ll be together, but not together… There’s a word for it, but I forgot…”

An amused chuckle left the younger’s lips. “Not labelling ourselves?”

“Yeah! That’s it. What do you think?” Youngjo asked. “Oh, but it’s seriously okay if you don’t want to. No pressure.”

The thought of he and Youngjo holding hands while smiling at each other crossed Hwanwoong’s mind almost immediately. The two of them have always been considered to be as thick as thieves by the other members, more so than any other pair within the group, so if they were to be more affectionate than before, it wouldn’t be really that out of place.

On top of everything else, though, to be able to call Youngjo his without feeling awful or guilty, and to have Youngjo call him his… Other than a first win on a music show, Hwanwoong couldn’t think of any better sensation,

It took him quite a while to make up his mind, but eventually, Hwanwoong nodded, albeit meekly. “Yeah. Sure. Doesn’t sound too bad.”

The astounded look Youngjo’s face consequently gave off was close to out of character, if it weren’t for the fact that Hwanwoong had seen that expression before a lot of times. Under different circumstances, of course.

“Oh, r-really? Um, I didn’t expect you to say that,” Youngjo stammered as he scratched his nape.

“Yeah. Why? Do you not want to?” At this point, Hwanwoong was expecting the worst of the worst, honestly.

Youngjo frantically waved his hands. “No! Well, yes—ugh, I mean, I want that too.” His mouth twitched as though he was holding back a huge grin, but his eyes could never lie. “I’m ecstatic, Woong, if you can’t tell. I can’t believe my feelings are mutual…?”

For the first time in a while, Hwanwoong genuinely laughed. “Yeah, I relate to that on a spiritual level.”

And then they were silent again. Hwanwoong noticed how Youngjo was fidgeting though. He played with his fingers and his eyes were darting back and forth from who knows where and to what. Hwanwoong was about to ask what was wrong, but was defeated by their eyes meeting abruptly once again.

“—Can I kiss you?”

Hwanwoong’s response was almost automatic. “Yeah.”

And their lips met. The kiss wasn’t anything impressive, no tongue or exchange of saliva like those romantic movies usually make it. It was just a slight peck on the lips, but it was enough to send tingling shivers down Hwanwoong’s spine. They pulled away as quickly as they kissed, nevertheless Hwanwoong’s pulses were already racing.

Youngjo seemed to be as embarrassed as he was. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were sparkling like he’d just seen fireworks. The crimson painted across his cheeks drew laughter out of Hwanwoong. “You’re so cute, hyung.”

Youngjo only smiled. “Do I need to give you a mirror, Woong?”

Hwanwoong rolled his eyes. “Ugh, does this mean I have to deal with your greasiness every second of the day?”

“Guess so! Make sure you’re up for it because I’m gonna be greasier than before just to annoy you.”

“Uuuugh.”

Hwanwoong was glad that they could exchange banters again without worrying about one another’s feelings anymore. This outcome was the outcome that he least expected, but he contentedly welcomed it nonetheless. To be able to touch and be touched by Youngjo without feeling awful to himself, added with the fact that Youngjo was his and he was Youngjo’s—it was as though Hwanwoong was dreaming with his eyes open.

“Y’know—we should thank Geonhak,” Youngjo said after enveloping the other into his arms.

Hwanwoong looked up at the other, confused. “Geonhak? Why?”

“He was the first one to notice that you were being like that because of me. He told me in the toilet earlier. He also told me to do something to you in order to, in his words, ‘evoke some kind of reaction out of you’.”

As he snuggled closer to Youngjo, Hwanwoong pouted. “I wanna be annoyed at him for deliberately playing with my emotions, but I also can’t because the end result isn’t bad.”

“You can tell Dongju to bite him tomorrow as revenge,” Youngjo suggested, a sly smile creeping upon his countenance.

“Mhmm,” Hwanwoong hummed, closing his eyes. “I’ll do that.”

Youngjo raised an eyebrow. “Are you gonna go to sleep? What about the movie?”

“It’s probably finished by now. Even if we joined, we probably missed quite a lot. Besides, I’m tired.” Hwanwoong shrugged. “If you wanna join them, it’s fine. Just… accompany me until I sleep.”

Youngjo’s characteristic smile appeared once again. “Okay. I’ll do that.”

It didn’t take long for Hwanwoong to drift off to dreamland. Youngjo called out to him a few times, but no response was given. Perhaps he was imagining things, but there seemed to be a ghost of a smile left upon the sleeping boy’s face. He must’ve been exhausted, Youngjo thought sympathetically. 

He carefully stepped out of the bed. As he tiptoed to the door, he glanced at the clock at the wall. Half past twelve. The movie hadn’t finished just yet, and he could still hear the others’ ruckus from the common room.

As though sensing that Geonhak’s car had died down, Dongju’s eyes fluttered open. Immediately his hand travelled up to his glabella, applying mild pressure on it with eyebrows furrowed in pain. It felt like a hammer was constantly banging against his brain. His stiff legs weren’t necessarily helping either.

“What time is it…?” Dongju asked as he began to process his surroundings. The dimly lit street before him along with the familiar suburban houses just across his view sparked a sense of familiarity. Oh, we’ve arrived.

“One.”

Dongju frowned, his face conspicuous of displeasure as he faced his boyfriend in the driver seat. “You drove for 5 hours straight?”

Geonhak didn’t reply. He merely sighed, unbuckled his seat belt and pulled the key out of the lock cylinder. He then let his whole body loose against the backrest of the seat and slumped his shoulders. His pallor appeared so weak and sickly—something that Dongju could not stand looking at. The dark circles that were beginning to form underneath his eyes also weren’t something that Dongju could miss and set aside.

“Geonhak…”

“I’m sorry,” Geonhak said.

For some reason, his apology elicited a sense of guilt within the younger man. However, this did not stop Dongju to continue chiding his boyfriend, as he began to go on a tangent, “We told each other that we’d take turns driving for every two hours. It was a 9-hour drive, Geonhak! And we both know that the both of us are tired from all our activities for these past 5 days! You should’ve rested instead of driving all the way here. I could’ve driven while you were resting…”

“I know, I know.” Geonhak massaged his temples, as if throbbing in pain from hearing Dongju’s naggings. “I just… didn’t want to wake you up.”

Dongju, who had previously intended to resume his naggings, went silent. The older man took this as his cue to continue. “You just seemed so tired, I didn’t dare to wake you up and force you to drive. Well, maybe not force you, that’s not the right word—but you get what I mean.”

The suffocating guilt from before grew even more intense within the younger man the moment his boyfriend finished his spiel. He dropped his head, the frown still etched upon his lips. “Sorry…” he mumbled. “I should’ve known.”

Geonhak ruffled his boyfriend’s brown locks. “It’s fine. Besides, it was my fault. Thought I could be the ideal selfless boyfriend, y’know?” he said softly with his distinctive low voice. Sometimes Dongju wondered how Geonhak could emit such a low, guttural voice, yet is still able to sound soft at the same time. He could never find out the answer. 

“Okay, okay, I get it. But you’re still in the wrong, okay! Our original agreement of taking turns driving is still valid,” Dongju pouted and crossed his arms, feigning annoyance.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever makes you happy,” Geonhak rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth were lifted upwards. “Anyways, let’s just get off and take all these baggage inside, yeah? I’m so tired that I’m already longing for our bed…”

Dongju shrugged. “Okay, yeah, fair. Let’s get this over with."

With that, the two of them stepped out of Geonhak’s navy hatchback and with all what was left of their energy, began unloading their baggage from the rear seat. It was just a couple of backpacks at the beginning of their trip, but after five days, it'd seemed like those backpacks had multiplied and perhaps made four children of their own. Well, Dongju supposed vacation does that to you. 

Grunts and groans escaped both men's mouth as their already rigid limbs struggled to bring the bags and goods up to the door. The moment they were there, their grips slacked and their baggage plopped to the floor. Dongju’s whole arms ached almost immediately, from the muscles of his shoulders down to the joints of his knuckles, to which he’d stretched in order to ease them. Geonhak, too, was doing the same thing.

“The house key’s on you, right?” 

Dongju perked up at the older’s question. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

It didn’t take long for him to fish out the key to their house from the smallest pocket in his duffel bag, and, before they knew it, they already found themselves dragging their bags against the creaking hard-wood floor towards the living room. 

Their living room was clean and meticulous just a few seconds ago, but now it was similar to that of a shipwreck, with all of their belongings strewn all over the floor in such a disorderly manner. The two couldn’t care less about the mess they’d made, as long as they get their well-deserved sleep after hours and hours of being in a small, enclosed space like Geonhak’s car, they wouldn’t mind cleaning such a mess the next morning. The trip was fun—more than fun, even. It was exhilarating, especially with how Dongju’s previous week was one of the most draining work weeks he’d ever gone through. He still could remember how his back felt as though it could snap at any given moment from slouching too much in front of his desk. The fact that Geonhak was there with him, too, was something Dongju treasured. Nonetheless, everyone knows that post-vacation blues is a real thing, and the 9-hour drive did not help either.

Dongju just got back from locking the door again—considering it was already 1:15 AM—when his attention was caught by the figure of Geonhak lying down on his stomach on their worn out couch. A small smile grew across his lips. His boyfriend must’ve been exhausted after driving for hours. Not to mention it was for him. It was for him that Geonhak decided to push himself to the limits, even though he didn’t really have to. He had always been like this, the selfless Geonhak. He thought he could please other people by sacrificing his own wants and needs. But in reality, that’s not always the case.

Still, though, Dongju could never ask for a better partner. It was that soft part of him that caused Dongju to initially fall in love with him.

“Hak?” The younger man called out as he tiptoed closer to the other. No response.

Dongju raised his eyebrows. There was no way he could fall asleep so quickly like that, he thought. He could swear his boyfriend was still awake just less than five minutes ago, when they were unloading their luggages all over the floor. Dongju dragged himself to the side of the couch, closer to Geonhak, craning his neck just a little bit so that he could see his boyfriend’s face.

“Love?” Dongju called out again, but this time, there was a response—a snore.

“Oh.” A small laugh escaped Dongju’s mouth. His hand reached out to Geonhak’s head, running his fingers through his boyfriend’s silver locks. This was something Dongju would not dare do if Geonhak was conscious, as his embarrassment would definitely get the better of him. Displaying pure affection has never been his forte, with the exception of when the affection is mixed with a little bit of mischief. But this—he would never do it when Geonhak’s awake.

“Hey, Haaak. Don’t sleep here. Move to the bed.”

That drew no response from the older man, but Dongju wasn’t upset or anything. On the contrary, he was amused. Not giving up, Dongju sat down beside the couch, his head now on the same level as the sleeping man, and began to gently shake him awake. As he did so, he whispered, “Haaak, wake up. It’s comfier on the bed, y’know? You know the couch’s too hard.”

Geonhak, on the other hand, merely let out a soft “hhhmhhmm…” as a response.

“Oh, come on now…” Dongju sighed. He couldn’t let his boyfriend sleep in such an uncomfortable position and wake up, possibly, with sore muscles all over his body. One way or another, he had to move Geonhak to their bedroom, but how exactly he should do that was still a debate that his mind was currently disputing about. Sure, he could let Geonhak be here all night and wait for him to move all by himself, but like he previously thought, he couldn’t let that happen. He knew firsthand just how horrible it is to wake up with throbbing muscles and thews after hours of sleeping in an uncomfortable position. He also could continue trying to wake him up until he’s fully awake, but he didn’t dare to. Geonhak is one of those people who has a hard time falling asleep, therefore if Dongju wakes him up, it’d take a while for the older man to fall asleep again.

With those two possibilities set aside, Dongju was certain this next idea had to be the last resort. If he were to be honest, though, he did not know how his logic came up with it. Perhaps it was the drowsiness kicking in. Yeah, that was probably it—Dongu also just took a notice of this, but his eyelids had become progressively heavy since they first entered the house. Yeah—that must be it, because there was no way his right mind would come up with the idea to carry his boyfriend, who is considerably much bigger and heavier than himself, to the bedroom.

Standing up, Dongju brought himself to the side of the couch. He coiled his arms around the other’s shoulders and, after mustering what he thought to be enough strength, attempted to lift the older man up.

“Come on…!” Dongju groaned, heaving his boyfriend up closer to his chest. 

This did not last long, however, as the both of them slid effortlessly down to the couch, weighed down by Geonhak’s body mass. Head now propped against Geonhak’s back and feet hanging at the edge of the couch along with Geonhak’s, Dongju exhaled slowly. His eyelids were starting to become steadily heavier compared to before, and his consciousness was ebbing away. It was as if his brain knew he was lying down, promptly ordering him to sleep, thinking that he was already in bed.

Dongju closed his eyes then. He thought that he might as well just sleep on top of Geonhak, if the latter wasn’t going to cooperate and move to the bed. Might as well wake up with a sore body, so that Geonhak would have a friend that suffers the same problem. The most important thing, though, was that he might as well just sleep then and there, as he had no more energy or motivation to bring himself up once again.

And so, without having any further thoughts, and with his body on top lying weakly on top of Geonhak, Dongju’s consciousness wafted away.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Never in his whole life had Geonhak woken up to an immense weight pressing him down against his back. As he tried to fully gather his consciousness back, he craned his neck to see what in the world was squashing him down against the couch. When he found out what it was, though, he was caught immediately off guard.

“Dongju—?”

Sure enough, the source of the weight was a sleeping Dongju. His head rested against Geonhak’s shoulder and his arms were hanging limply on both sides of their body. With his eyes shut and chest heaving, Geonhak could notice his boyfriend’s beautiful long lashes even in such an awkward position. His lips, too—which were slightly chapped from probably the dry air of their car from earlier—were slightly apart, giving access for him to breathe more easily. Geonhak smiled—what an angel, he thought.

The clock on the wall just a few feet in front of him conveyed that it was currently around half past four, most likely in the morning. At the back of his mind, images of him and Dongju in the car appeared, followed suit by them carrying their bags and goods into the house, and soon of him toppling down onto the couch with what he could recall as such vivid fatigue and exhaustion.

Oh. Right. That happened.

Did Dongju also just shut down all of a sudden like him? Geonhak didn’t know, but he assumed that was what happened. Though, why didn’t he just sleep in a more comfortable place like, say, their bedroom?

Bedroom sounded nice. Geonhak planned to migrate both himself and Dongju to the bedroom as it’d be much more comfortable there, however his boyfriend’s body was quite literally constricting his plan to move.

Thus, Geonhak shook his head, removing all unnecessary thoughts and proceeded to  carefully turn around on the couch as best as he could. The fact that Dongju was also squishing him against the couch didn’t help much either. He grunted, one hand gently gripping the other’s arm to prevent the latter from falling. As he watched Dongju’s every movement lest he wakes up, Geonhak shifted bit by bit, his mind on edge over not wanting his boyfriend to wake up. But then——

“Hak…?”

Geonhak froze. With him now facing Dongju, Geonhak’s eyes wandered up to the other’s. Lids half open, brown optics looked straight back into him in feeble wonder.

“Oh, did I wake you up?” Geonhak whispered.

Soon the older man became bewildered, though, and for a good reason too. Dongju had subsequently closed his eyes then and only snuggled further against Geonhak’s chest, inducing a flutter of something within his stomachs.

Adorable, he thought.

After a few pokes on the younger one’s cheek, making sure that he wasn’t really awake, Geonhak slowly lifted himself up. Dongju did not weigh much, especially to him who regularly does weights, but his stiff joints and sore muscles made maneuvering his boyfriend much more of an endeavor than it should be. Not to mention that he also had to do it as gently as possible, as he didn’t want to wake the younger one up.

The joints across his arms crackled plenty as Geonhak carefully positioned his sleeping boyfriend on his lap. At this point he was just carrying him, basically.

Stationing his grasps against Dongju’s bottom, Geonhak then stood up. He wobbled at first, not used to the weight of his boyfriend—especially in this early morning. Nonetheless, it didn’t take long for him to regain his balance. With Dongju propped against his chest and on his arms, Geonhak strode toward their room.

Navigating through the faintly lit corridor was rather difficult with a person in his arms. However, Geonhak eventually found the door handle to the bedroom, and after struggling quite a while to maintain his grasp on Dongju while simultaneously opening the door, soon he found himself already in the room. 

Despite the lights being off, Geonhak easily trudged toward the bed. He then laid Dongju on the mattress as gently as possible, who was still sleeping peacefully with soft, regular breathing. If Geonhak were to be in his situation, a simple movement would be enough to wake him up. He’s such a light sleeper compared to Dongju.

Geonhak pulled the sheets up to Dongju’s chin, tucking the latter in. The kiss he pecked on his boyfriend's forehead was almost automatic, as though the mere presence of a peacefully asleep Dongju itself was enough to spark him to do so. If he could, Geonhak would appreciate the view before him for more, but his brain was already sending him signals that he still needed sleep, so he gave in.