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As soon as the staff had told the both of them that filming was done and that they could now head back to the dorm, Junkyu picked up his pace, leaving Jihoon—who was still talking to their accompanying staff—behind.
“Junkyu!”
But Junkyu didn’t turn. Walking on, he hugged the bag close to his chest but upon hearing the crunching sound of the cup-noodles, he let it swing to his side instead.
Then it stopped swinging.
"Let me take that," he heard Jihoon say. He let him.
In silence they walked, the sleeves of their sweaters touching, and sometimes their knuckles, too. But it was nothing. At least not for Junkyu. He’d gotten so used to it. He’d gotten so used to Jihoon’s skin. . . his mere presence. He’d gotten too familiar with it now that Jihoon never had to announce himself anymore when he just walked into his room—or any room that Junkyu was in for that matter, though Jihoon always did.
A chuckle.
Junkyu had to look. “What?” he said.
“Nothing,” said Jihoon, “I didn’t expect you’d get it . I was thinking of Hyunsuk-hyung or Asahi.”
Smiling, Junkyu rolled his eyes. Jihoon had always been self-assured, and though Junkyu had found that nauseating at first, he'd come to appreciate this as a personal quirk of Jihoon that made him who he was. “You knew exactly it only got 3000 won."
Jihoon laughed. “Of course, I did," he said, “why else would I give—”
“You’re cruel.”
“Oh, please, come off it,” said Jihoon, “Asahi gave a plastic broccoli.”
A bulb lit up on top of Junkyu’s head. Holding back a smile, he said, “It’s a healthy joke at least.”
There was a momentary pause, then Jihoon said, “Oh, god.”
He gave Junkyu a mocking look, and Junkyu laughed at that—at how Jihoon looked. When Junkyu didn’t stop, he saw a grin break on Jihoon’s face. Then the leader slung his arm around Junkyu’s shoulder, pulling him closer to him. Junkyu would have normally pushed free, but he felt like he had just been rewarded for something from someone he deemed. . . special.
So he let it. He reached for Jihoon’s hand around him and held onto it.
"Am I better than you now?" He asked Jihoon.
"At what?"
"At not being funny at all," smiled Junkyu, looking straight ahead.
Jihoon made them stop, and Junkyu felt Jihoon's breath on his face. "You think I'm not funny?"
Junkyu chuckled. "Why," said Junkyu, "did you really think you were?"
Continuing the walk for the two of them, Jihoon fell into a miffed silence. Head cast down, Junkyu bit his lower lip to keep himself from smiling too big. He knew what Jihoon must be feeling right now. And Junkyu was pleased to know that he still held the little power he had over Jihoon. Which he’d only managed to earn somehow later on in his and Jihoon’s friendship.
Underneath the tough and wittingly funny exterior, Jihoon had a soft spot for taking seriously into heart other people’s opinion, especially that of his friends. And Junkyu had learned especially that Jihoon had always taken Junkyu’s jokes seriously. Which was understable because Junkyu never joked at all before and only said good things to Jihoon no matter what. So when Jihoon would tease Junkyu and Junkyu would say something equally personal(but as a joke), Jihoon would suddenly turn quiet, then a few minutes later he would talk to Junkyu alone and would start asking Junkyu if he meant what he’d said.
It was these moments Junkyu felt closer to Jihoon, because he knew that Jihoon was not like that with other members. Junkyu could be simply assuming, but he thought of it that way, and with the consistency of these said actions of Jihoon, it was hard for Junkyu to not fuel that fantasy.
This time, it was Junkyu who halted them. He slightly tilted his head back to look up at Jihoon and say—smiling, “Hey, Park Jihoon, don’t cry.”
Junkyu had never been a people’s person. He was never comfortable with exchanging jokes even with his classmates and friends from before. And that didn’t change even when he became a trainee. And when he first met Park Jihoon, he had tried to distance himself away from him as much as possible. Jihoon was just too loud for him, and Junkyu had never looked forward to being one of Jihoon’s subjects for his jokes.
Now Junkyu could easily silence Jihoon in just one try.
Frowning at him because Jihoon’s face had now turned serious, Junkyu said, “Wait a minute. . . are you actually offended ?”
Junkyu was reminded of that time they played the MAFIA game on V-Live and they had all decided to kill Jihoon—backed up by the fans—and he’d taken it so seriously that it had evidently upset him.
As if recognizing the childishness of how he’d reacted, Jihoon gave Junkyu an awkwardly boyish smile—the very same apologetic reaction he gave on that V-Live—that made Junkyu’s heart leap inside.
But of course Junkyu didn’t show that. He tried to make a face instead, to show Jihoon that he found this attitude laughable. “What the heck is wrong with you, Park Jihoon?” he laughed mockingly.
Shyly smiling, Jihoon looked at Junkyu then looked away. Then he tightened his arm around Junkyu’s shoulder and then proceeded to walk.
“Hey, stop, we’re here,” said Junkyu after a minute or so.
But Jihoon didn’t stop, only dragged Junkyu further. Junkyu, somewhat laughing, fought back. “What are you doing, Park Jihoon? Noona will be—”
“It’s fine, Junkyu,” said Jihoon, “I asked for permission.”
“From whom?”
Jihoon clucked his tongue. “Let’s just go,” he said, “trust me.”
Reluctant though he was, Junkyu let Jihoon drag him forwards until they finally came to a stop in front of a shed across which one could observe the lake beyond the bar-like concrete barriers.
Junkyu was just sitting on the bench at the shed and was just starting to complain when Jihoon pulled him up, then made them both cross the street.
"Park Jihoon!"
But Junkyu could only run along, of course, afraid for his life. And the honking of cars were enough encouragement for him to catch up with the laughing Jihoon, who had one arm locked around Junkyu's shoulder while the other gripped Junkyu's hand.
Only when they reached the other side of the road did Junkyu finally laugh, his boiling rage dissolving into the chilly air.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Park Jihoon?" exclaimed Junkyu, but still laughing.
Jihoon didn't answer him and only put his hands on both hips, slightly panting, looking at the zooming cars to and fro. With his bangs tousled from running, Junkyu couldn't help but stare at Jihoon's face longer than he usually would. He only snapped out of it when Jihoon turned to look at him, smiling big. Jihoon blew on his face.
Junkyu blinked then tried to punch the leader but Jihoon caught his hand and took the chance to pull Junkyu to sit on one of the concrete barriers.
"Oh, god, Jihoon."
"Stop overreacting," said Jihoon, "it's—"
"I'm not overreacting!"
"Okay, fine," said Jihoon, letting go of his hand, "but just sit down, please. You won't fall."
"Right, because I will be rolling down first," said Junkyu, pointing and looking down at the sloping field leading to the bank of the lake.
Jihoon laughed at him, and when Junkyu turned to see, he thought he felt something in his belly.
There was something about Jihoon's laugh, something. . . child-like. With glazed eyes, he looked at Junkyu like Junkyu had just said something impressive, and Junkyu wanted to capture the look on Jihoon's face at the moment, and he would certainly have, fast, if he had brought his phone with him. Junkyu needed to do something—something to remember this moment by, mark it.
And Junkyu did it. Quick. He pecked Jihoon on the lips.
Then he stepped back, looking away. Blushing, Junkyu finally took a seat on the concrete and looked across the lake on which the moon was reflected. Then he heard Jihoon sit on the concrete next to where Junkyu's. Junkyu's lips began to stretch into a smile, but he held it back as much as possible.
Then he heard Jihoon say, "You always do that."
Junkyu blushed. And the smile slightly slid from his face.
"Junkyu," said Jihoon, "look at me."
But Junkyu didn't look. It was like he had just been smacked by an accusation he was guilty of—because he was. But what made him feel worse about it was that he had always thought he had gotten away and had always expected since then that this would go on with him not being caught, not being confronted.
Because he'd always known he wasn't going to be ready when that day happened.
And it was happening now.
"Junkyu," said Jihoon, ". . . I ca—you can't just keep doing that. You just can't. . . do it whenever you like."
Junkyu was now heating up all over his body. What had he really thought?
Well, for one, he had always thought that Jihoon was okay with it. He had always thought that he and Jihoon. . . they shared something that didn't need to be described. . . didn't need to be talked about. It would just happen. And then they could always go on as if nothing happened.
They fell into a long, agonizing silence—or at least agonizing for Junkyu. He didn't know what to say, or rather he was waiting for Jihoon to say more, so that Junkyu could brace himself, and then he would know what to say. Maybe. But out of the corner of his eye, he only saw Jihoon leaning backwards with his hands gripping the edge of the concrete barrier behind him.
Sighing, Junkyu closed his eyes and let the night breeze envelope him. He shuddered.
The silence stretched long enough that Junkyu was certain he was about to doze off, but when his chin dipped on his chest he snapped awake. The first thing he did was glance beside him.
Jihoon was still leaning, his face directed upwards, his eyes closed.
Junkyu bit his lip. Then he jumped off the barrier. He walked toward Jihoon, stood beside the barrier.
"Jihoon," he said, placing one hand on top of Jihoon's knee.
Jihoon fluttered his eyes open.
"Scoot over," said Junkyu.
Licking his lips, Jihoon did so. Junkyu sat next to Jihoon. There was a lot Junkyu needed to clear out, but first things first.
"I’m sorry," he began, "I feel. . . I’m ashamed. . .”
Junkyu frowned at the water. Was he, really? Was he truly ashamed? Because there had always been a part of him certain that Jihoon had liked it, too. Junkyu wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t numb. If he knew Jihoon had not wanted them—all the silly little kisses Junkyu had stolen, why had Jihoon never stopped him? Why had he never told Junkyu to stop then?
Because maybe he doesn’t want to offend you, Junkyu. Because he knows how you feel about him. Everybody knows how you really feel about him—despite the false annoyance you project when he teases you, the faces you make when he’s trying to be silly.
Junkyu blinked, then swallowed. He couldn’t believe that he was only coming into terms with all of it now.
Why? And why only now?
Because the circumstance demanded it. And Junkyu realized it was about time he was ready anyway. For both the good. . . and the bad. He felt he and the other members were finally reaching that peak, this time certain and prepared, and Jihoon. . . he was becoming a new person. . . a better person. And it was up to Junkyu now if he wanted to proceed to the next chapter of his life—TREASURE’s life—with Jihoon close by his side. Uncensored.
So, he asked Jihoon, “Did you. . . did you always hate them?”
Jihoon turned to look at him. “Hate what, Junkyu?”
The kisses.
Junkyu looked at him, but instead of answering the question, he said, “Why did you never react then? You were always so straightforward. Why didn’t you tell me that you didn’t. . . want to be kissed? Oh, is it because you hate to be sentimental? Well then you could have confronted me in front of everyone, embrass me in front of all of them. Or more.”
“Junkyu, what are you talking about?”
“I’m asking if you really like me or not, Jihoon.”
Junkyu hiccupped and he had to look away. He had never been good with hiding his emotions. But then again, he had never felt the need to do so at Jihoon’s company.
“You know the answer to that, Junkyu,” he heard Jihoon say, “but I don’t think that will change anything.”
Junkyu turned. “What?”
Jihoon was looking down on his lap, eyes droopy, almost sad.
“Jihoon—”
“You’re not sure about your feelings, Junkyu,” said Jihoon, “you never were. So I. . . I always just let you. But I. . . didn't want to get too comfortable. . ." Jihoon looked up to Junkyu here, ". . . in case you've suddenly realized that you don't like me anymore."
Junkyu, abashed, blinked at Jihoon. "How—why do you think that?"
"Because we all change, Junkyu," said Jihoon, "and you've changed."
"I. . . have not."
Jihoon scoffed at him, but it came out weak that Junkyu's heart almost broke.
"You've started avoiding me," said Jihoon, not looking at him, "you've. . . it was like you didn't like us being. . . together. . . in front of the camera. Like you—"
"Because I wanted to keep what we have special," said Junkyu, looking away himself, "I didn't want to broadcast it and let people tell us what to do."
"That's not—"
"Look," said Junkyu, sliding off the barrier, "I'm sorry for those. . . kisses. I. . . Never will I ever do that again, I promise."
Then turning away, he said, "Let's get back to the dorm."
But Jihoon caught his wrist, making him stop. When he turned, Jihoon was looking at him.
"Don't ever stop," he said, "I just need to know. . . that if I kissed you back. . . will you. . . let me?"
"Jihoon," said Junkyu, looking away, "it's not something you ask permission for. You just. . . do it."
"But will you?"
Junkyu looked at Jihoon. "Do you want to do it because you want to? Or now you're just feeling obliged," Junkyu pulled his hand free. He didn't let Jihoon answer. "There you are," he went on, "sulking, telling me you can't do it because you're afraid. Of the two of us, you know I've always been the one more afraid. And yet I've always tried, Jihoon. No matter the reservations, I've always tried. To show you. Because those were my way of assuring you that you matter to me very much. That I love you."
"Junkyu—"
"And when you'd never bring it up," said Junkyu, "the kiss, I would always think that I wasn't doing enough. So I would do it again when I saw the chance. But still you wouldn't reciprocate."
"Junkyu," said Jihoon, "I just told you why. I was afra—"
"I understand," said Junkyu, "I just wanted you to hear me out. Because you're not the only one struggling to keep this relationsh—" Junkyu scoffed, "I don't even know what we are."
Jihoon stood up now. "We don't need to struggle, Kyu," he said, "and you never need to hide your feelings in front of everybody."
Junkyu wasn't looking at Jihoon.
"Besides," Jihoon went on, "you've always been terrible at hiding them, anyway."
Junkyu did look at Jihoon this time. And seeing Jihoon's smile, he softened, and smiled as well.
"I. . ."
"Did I hear it right?" said Jihoon. "Did you mean what you said?"
Junkyu frowned at him.
"You said you love me," said Jihoon.
Junkyu looked at Jihoon. "Do you?" he asked in return.
"Of course I do," said Jihoon, his smile widening, "I love you, Kim Junkyu."
And he was just leaning closer to kiss Junkyu when Junkyu leaned back, holding up the bag to Jihoon's face. "If you really did," he said, "you would have gotten me something more than just ₩3000."
Jihoon laughed a little. "I will," he said "later."
Then he tried to kiss Junkyu again. But Junkyu still wouldn't let him.
"No," said Junkyu, "I need to be sure first. I need to know how I'm worth. And I'm definitely worth more than ₩3000."
Junkyu started walking. Laughing, Jihoon put his arm around Junkyu's shoulder, then making Junkyu face him, he quietly sang, ". . . I love you three-thousand. . . Won."
Smiling, Junkyu thought of saying something funny then—tease Jihoon. But then Junkyu looked back to those times Jihoon would sing to him. He had always reacted with a calm, unimpressed face, or he would criticize Jihoon for being loud. But now he thought he would tell how he really feel—how he'd always felt when Jihoon sang to him.
But then when he opened his mouth, Junkyu realized he didn't know what to say exactly.
"So where do you wanna go?" said Jihoon, snapping Junkyu back to reality.
Junkyu blinked. "What?"
"Let's get you what y—"
"No, we can't do that," said Junkyu, "we need to go back to the dor—"
"Oh, come on," said Jihoon, "I told you, Junkyu, it's fine."
Junkyu opened his mouth to protest, but Jihoon put his hand to cover it. Laughing, Junkyu slapped Jihoon's arm. "You've got nothing in that check card, remember?"
Junkyu watched as Jihoon reached for his back pocket then procured a wallet.
"You have cash?" exclaimed Junkyu.
Jihoon winked at him.
They crossed the street. They stopped at a convenience store and Jihoon let Junkyu get whatever he liked. When Jihoon paid for it, they began to head back to the dorm. And when they reached the entrance of the building, Junkyu stopped to turn and tell Jihoon, "I'm not the only one getting his treat tonight." He winked here, then cast a quick glance at Jihoon's torso. And he made sure Jihoon catch it.
That wiped the smile from Jihoon's face, and he looked at Junkyu, blushing, almost flustered. Then, stuttering, he said, "Are you su—r. . .reall—"
Junkyu guffawed. "You should have seen your face, Park Jihoon!"
Then Junkyu started jogging upstairs, almost throwing his head back in laughter, leaving Jihoon rooted to the spot, smiling.