Chapter Text
Like most of his problems, Yeonjun’s current one began with the internet.
Ever since debut, it’s routine for him to watch performances once they’re posted, noting down strengths and improvements for next time. Today shouldn’t be any different; he’s never gotten bored, never lost focus to the extent of seeking out anything else.
Yet here he is.
Straying from the task a little bit.
Perhaps he got carried away clicking through videos, but he was only trying to be a reliable older member, monitoring his bandmates. Like the good hyung he is.
So really, who can blame him?
It’s just a shame that his endless generosity has decided to bite him in the ass.
For the first time in a while, Yeonjun mourns the lack of hectic schedule that comes with an idol life, slowly discovering that being left with the freedom to do anything may be inadvisable. Even if it’s his own fault for indulging curiosity.
Well, the cat is killed and no satisfaction is bringing it back any time soon.
And it’s all because of these compilations, which he continues scrolling through with no remorse, but tons of regret.
Yeonjun could blame it on boredom, sure, but it’s hard to excuse his persistence fifteen videos in, knee deep in theories and slowed down zoom cuts. Despite having full autonomy over the finger pressing on them, he wonders how routine checking declined so rapidly into this.
Shipping and fan cams.
Now, Yeonjun is no stranger to fans shipping their group - they do it with BTS, so TXT were bound to get a taste eventually, right? He’d even go as far as to call it cute, albeit stifling if staff supervise their interactions afterwards; guilty as charged, he plays up the teasing on occasion. He cherishes his friends and is determined to shower them with affection, especially if it gains him the reputation of a shameless flirt.
This simple facet of his personality, however, seems to be his downfall.
Because it does not change the fact that Choi Soobin has become the bane of his existence.
Yeonjun should’ve known better than to click on “Yeonbin bickering and sweet moments”, but he’s willing to blame the “Taegyu making us feel single” compilation right before - it just seemed so far-fetched and heavily edited, making him choke on his water a handful of times.
He’s certainly not laughing now as he cradles the bottle to his chest, listening to Polaroid Love play as a backing track to clips of him and one of his closest friends.
His dongsaengs didn’t sing the song to fry every last nerve in his brain, but it feels like Yeonjun will never be able to hear it again without his own, awed face at Soobin’s photoshoot burned into his eyelids. He groans in exasperation and deposits the bottle on the floor.
Another video autoplays.
Yeonjun prepares to shove a pillow into his face to muffle a scream.
What started out as ‘watching it for the meme’ to revisit memories of his friends, who aren’t with him on his early-finish day, is quickly turning into introspection and panic. There’s no reasonable explanation for it. Why has he felt the urge to watch fan cams of Soobin - only Soobin - for (at least) an hour, paying rapt attention to every move and facial expression?
The only consolation Yeonjun can find is that MOA have successfully brainwashed him into believing he is attracted to the man.
Maybe the videos deserve some sort of award for that.
Shippers are a niche variety of comedians, Yeonjun decides, entertaining the thought of how MOA will react when their Dior photoshoot finally airs. It amuses him for a while, then he’s back to watching Soobin in those goddamn glasses, singing “Bye guys, hi ladies!”.
Yeonjun’s mouth goes dry.
His fingers on the pillow twitch.
Transfixed on the screen, he replays the clip, seeing it for the millionth time. Really, there’s no novelty to it - he did a live stream with Soobin recently where the other wore glasses. Though, after hours of what Yeonjun tentatively deems ‘research’, they look appealing on the younger in a way that he’s never considered before.
A weird emotion swirls in his gut as he rewatches the offending video, pressing skip once his lungs feel too tight. Releasing the air in a chuckle, Yeonjun relaxes the death grip he has on the phone, half amused by his own shaken state.
There’s nothing new about the clips, but it feels as if the compilations are making him view his entirely friendly dynamic with Soobin in a different light. Self conscious, he wonders: is this really how their fans see them? Could it be a difference of culture?
Then again, a lot of Korean fans seem to agree.
Yeonjun concludes that separation from the group has finally made him go insane.
He’s unsure what that spells for his level of dependency.
At least if Beomgyu were here, he’d present a distraction in the form of games, some ridiculous competition, idle chatter or, really, anything other than letting Yeonjun waste time on shipping compilations. On entertaining the thought of what they’re trying to ‘show’. Yeonjun misses the motor wedged in Beomgyu’s throat with every passing minute, crossing his fingers in hopes that the younger will come back to bother him soon.
It’s when he resolves to delete his YouTube history and pretend that he never saw a single one of those cursed, out-of-context videos, that he hears the door to their dorm close.
Yeonjun’s grip on the pillow eases. His bones crick loudly when he gets up; a good sample for a beat. Tossing his phone onto the bed, out of sight, he races to take full advantage of whoever returned, needing a break from hours worth of content; insistent that momentary obsession was spurred on by loneliness.
But he must have horrible luck, because his long-awaited distraction comes in the form of none other than the bane of his existence.
Yeonjun rounds the corner to Soobin, dishevelled, attempting to stash sweets out of view in a drawer. He approaches hesitantly, socked feet shuffling across the floor, stuck in a debate with himself about whether he should finally tell Soobin that Kai is the snack thief he’s been trying to combat these past few months. Lost in thought, he bumps his shoulder against the wall and startles when the leader shoots up from his crouched position.
“Hello,” Yeonjun tries. “You’re back early.”
“Hi,” Soobin squeaks, so rapidly that silence settles over them as if he never spoke.
They stare at each other like deer in headlights, though Yeonjun doesn’t know why he’s frozen too.
He isn’t the one hiding things in their dorm.
His brain betrays him by zeroing in on Soobin’s glasses, bracketed by fluffy hair that looks a little damp. Yeonjun hadn’t even noticed light rain thrumming against the window, too absorbed in his completely forgettable and totally boring YouTube movie night. The universe has comedic timing, he decides. Blinking a few times, he tries to wipe the image of Soobin as a movie lead from his traitorous brain, something akin to Kai’s shrieking laugh ringing in his ears, mocking him in his misery.
It must be a simple hyper awareness borne of focusing on Soobin’s visuals only minutes prior. Maybe Yeonjun is mildly jealous, the leader’s appearance after two schedules being much more put together than his own sweatpants and ratty shirt combo. Yeah, that must be it.
Momentary interest doesn’t have to mean anything besides appreciating his attractive best friend, whose eyes sparkle under the stark kitchen lights.
Yeonjun mentally slaps himself out of the stupor.
“Are you hiding something Soobinnie?” He coos, a small grin blooming on his face when Soobin panics. Their eye contact finally breaks, giving his nerves some temporary reprieve.
“I forgot you’d be home hyung,” Soobin dodges the question. He shifts from one foot to the other, his height emphasising the awkwardness of the motion. Finding Soobin’s forgetfulness adorable, Yeonjun feels a sudden urge to bite the leader’s cheeks.
Which is weird, even for him.
A muffled version of Polaroid Love plays in his head but he’ll be damned if a bunch of edits make him over-analyse everything he does.
“Yah,” Yeonjun sniffles, “I see how it is. You don’t care about hyung.”
Soobin relaxes, tension bleeding from his shoulders. He scoffs and closes the cupboard, demeanour changing entirely as he moves towards the sink.
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” he quips back.
Yeonjun tries to come up with something witty in return, half distracted by the water dripping from Soobin’s hands. He tries to stop staring, but…
It takes some effort.
He chuckles in lieu of a response.
Unsure why he’s so hung up on overly enthusiastic comments from MOA, Yeonjun changes gears before his memory drudges up the ones regarding their bickering. He curses his past self for thinking it would be funny to see what content their fans create about them, when it’s clear that he’s only suffered mental damage from it.
“How was your day?” He asks conversationally.
Soobin drags a small kitchen towel across his palms to dry them. If Yeonjun thought the dripping water was bad, he decides that the repeated motion of towelling and tensing muscle is worse. He hops up to sit on the cramped counter, its cool temperature seeping through his sweatpants, refocusing him before he can spiral about something equally farcical.
“It was alright. The photoshoot went well,” Soobin pauses to smirk, leaning casually against the sink. “I’d make my own Instagram account to post the photos but I don’t want you to feel threatened.”
“Is that so?” Yeonjun can’t believe the disrespect he puts up with on a daily basis. Jokingly fired up, he doesn’t bother to ask about Soobin’s other schedule. “I’d hack your account. I’d get you banned. I wouldn’t follow you and MOA would start rumours about a fight-”
“That’s not fair,” Soobin cuts in before Yeonjun can detail more creative methods to secure the fame and glory of yawnzzn. “Those methods are underhanded. Just admit that you’re the loser here.”
A shit eating grin bleeds onto Yeonjun’s face.
Soobin’s brows furrow.
“I’m not a loser, Bin-ah,” Yeonjun proclaims proudly, hand pressed over his heart in mock sincerity, “I’m a lover ~”
He fights to stifle a giggle when disgust flashes across Soobin’s face.
Soobin 0: Yeonjun 1, he notes victoriously.
“I know what your paycheck looks like. Please invest in a better sense of humour,” Soobin deadpans. His back faces Yeonjun as he rummages through a cupboard, raiding their impressive ramyeon supply.
Yeonjun raises his hand, chilled considerably from being pressed into the counter, to cover his mouth on a yawn. Physically representing yawnzzn, he thinks, and sighs in amusement without voicing it. Soobin would probably throw a ramyeon packet at his head if he did.
“What do you mean? I’m hilarious,” Yeonjun mumbles, teasing the younger despite his drooping eyelids. “Show some respect for our discography by laughing.”
“Only if you respect yourself enough to stop making bad jokes,” Soobin teases back.
It’s playful, enough for Yeonjun to see what MOA mean when they call the leader ‘boyfriend material’. Like a scene from a romance drama - Soobin cooking while he jokes around, charming the love interest and showcasing the chemistry they share. A perfect fit for the role. For the first time tonight, Yeonjun admits it without his brain shutting down completely. Progress.
But in this specific scenario, he’s the co-star - the love interest.
It’s a strange thought.
Even stranger because Yeonjun doesn’t hate it.
Filling a pot with water, Soobin sets it on the stove, knob turned to a low setting as he tears open the ramyeon packet. It rouses Yeonjun from his drama co-star daydream. He watches Soobin’s hands set aside spices, empty additions into the water, pluck the noodles out and drop them in with practiced ease.
“Your sense of humour sucks,” Yeonjun argues. In a weak attempt to salvage his pride, he tags on, “MOA would find it funny.”
Soobin crosses the small distance between them, a fond smile playing on his lips at the sight of his hyung perched petulantly on the counter, struggling to stay upright. He places a hand on Yeonjun’s thigh, long fingers splayed across muscle.
Yeonjun suddenly feels more awake.
The placement is friendly, a safe midpoint between knee and hip, but all of Yeonjun’s thoughts fizzle out; wash away like sea foam. This is normal, he tries to tell himself, because it is.
So why does it feel like too much?
Or… not enough?
Yeonjun’s ears flush as a sardonic montage of Soobin’s hand claiming the same spot plays before his eyes - wholly unnecessary, because he remembers countless instances off-camera too. They’re all starting to blur together.
“MOA have a better sense of humour than that,” Soobin counters. Warmth from his palm leaks through Yeonjun’s sweatpants, burning every sensory nerve beneath it.
And Yeonjun…
He finds himself wondering how it would feel if Soobin’s hand slid further up, with more intent. If it would travel past his waist to grab-
He cuts that train of thought short.
Because what the fuck?
Why would he want that?
Yeonjun fights the urge to shake his head. Where did that come from? Has being alone awoken some sort of repressed sexual frustration? Were the compilations-? No. He’s tired from lazing around for half of the afternoon, thoughts derailed by exhaustion.
That’s all it is.
At the lack of reaction, Soobin digs his fingers in, eyes tracking Yeonjun’s expression - the elder’s face flickers through the five stages of grief, fast enough to barely affect his features.
“No, they don’t have a better sense of humour. They find you funny,” Yeonjun autopilots, no heat in the insult.
Thigh touches are a mindless habit, yet his leg nearly quivers at the insistent weight resting there. It’s not a first - Soobin is known for throwing himself at members in whole body laughs, grabs Yeonjun more questionably during games and challenges, even. Not to mention the occasional revenge fueled butt slap in the shower.
Skinship with Soobin is practically second nature to Yeonjun.
But for some reason, this feels weird, and all Yeonjun can focus on is the searing point of contact between them.
Soobin snorts. “That applies to you too. If MOA found your joke funny, it would only be because you said it… which doesn’t actually make it funny.”
“Yes it does, MOA always want me to make more jokes.”
“I’m sure that MOA also want you to move your legs so I can get my chopsticks,” Soobin prods, shaking Yeonjun’s leg from side to side.
Yeonjun’s nerves fire signals at a pace that must be dangerous for his health, heart stuttering and blood rushing to his ears when the grip on his thigh tightens. “Mm, I don’t want to move,” he mumbles, tracing the veins that run across Soobin’s hand with interest.
“Yeonjun-hyung,” Soobin calls.
Tearing his gaze away, Yeonjun meets the younger’s eyes, immediately captivated by the spectrum of brown he can discern in them at this proximity.
“What?”
Soobin’s eyes? Really? Sorry I’m an anti-romantic my ass, he thinks, hand twitching against the counter as he debates pinching Soobin’s cheek. He’s never second guessed himself about that. Wholeheartedly blaming the annotated compilations, Yeonjun curses them out colourfully in his head. He can’t get one-upped by MOA, and definitely not by the punk in front of him, whose amusement grows as more seconds pass with Yeonjun openly staring.
How dare Soobin think he’s won.
Willing to prove MOA wrong and searching for a sense of routine, Yeonjun drapes his arms over Soobin’s shoulders. It’s all in his head anyway - the restlessness and confusion. Soobin isn’t acting any different, so Yeonjun won’t either. He ignores the warmth that extends along his limbs from the touch, grinning lazily at Soobin’s lack of reaction.
“Hyung, come on. Move over.”
The leader places his other hand on the cutlery drawer, nonchalance saturating the air around him. He regards Yeonjun impassively, waiting for a response, unswayed by the elder’s pout and penchant for physical contact. It’s a shame, really, because Yeonjun is putting a lot of effort into making his bottom lip jut out in displeasure. He knows that Soobin is generally immune to it, but it’s worth a shot anyway - he’s been successful a handful of times, getting his way with subtle aegyo. Though on second thought, it seems to work better when he doesn’t actively try.
“Why should I?”
His fingers reach for Soobin’s soft earlobes, toying with the skin by rubbing it back and forth, stretching it gingerly. It finally prompts the corners of Soobin’s cupid shaped lips to twitch upwards. Now that Yeonjun thinks about it, he’s always liked Soobin’s stretchy skin more than is probably considered normal.
Huh.
But it works: Soobin’s guard lowers. He should know better than to underestimate Yeonjun just because the older boy seems sleepy enough to fall into him like dead weight, succumbing to the ease of their loose embrace.
“Because I’ll-” Soobin starts.
He stiffens in surprise when Yeonjun digs his nails in, pinching the sensitive lobes.
“Alright. I’ll let you get your chopsticks,” Yeonjun promises, gravitating forwards on instinct. “But only if you tell hyung you’re very sorry for forgetting he was home. And for calling the joke bad. I’ll make MOA happy by letting you eat if you admit that you’re secretly obsessed with me.”
He realises how close they are when his eyes drop to Soobin’s pout. Thankfully, the leader is too busy processing the request to scrutinise Yeonjun’s hasty retreat.
And here’s the thing: Yeonjun isn’t an asshole.
He plans to move aside anyway, too tired to wait for Soobin to give in and certainly lacking the energy to fight him for it; in his mind, it’s already a win. If he were less exhausted, he’d offer rock, paper, scissors to determine a winner, maybe even kick and scream to throw the younger off his rhythm.
It's not behaviour befitting of a hyung but Yeonjun doesn’t care.
Who says he has to be mature?
Soobin, however, isn’t clued in on his plan to concede. The leader decreases the distance between them by leaning in, dimples emerging in a deceptive display of innocence, though his words are anything but.
“In your dreams hyung,” Soobin sings, eyes squinting from the size of his smile. “You really thought I’d agree?”
“You-"
“I think you’re projecting,” he adds conspiratorially, head tilted to gain full view of the mild heat rising to Yeonjun’s cheeks. “Asking for all this attention, it’s clearly you who’s secretly obsessed with me~”
Considering what Yeonjun wasted his time on, Soobin hits the mark with uncanny accuracy.
“Starve,” Yeonjun deadpans, removing his hands from the leader’s ears.
Soobin throws his head back to let loose a villainous cackle, confirming Yeonjun’s theory that his sole purpose in the group is preying on the eldest’s downfall.
His semi-success is even more infuriating.
Refusing to budge from his spot like an irritated cat, Yeonjun waits for Soobin’s amusement to drain, though the noise in their kitchen doesn’t seem to end. Soobin’s chuckles turn to soft snorts, then breathy giggles. His forehead comes to rest against Yeonjun’s clavicle, body shaking as he struggles to catch his breath. Surprised by the outburst, Yeonjun tries to calm his own erratic heart rate, the sound of Soobin’s laboured breathing ringing loudly in his ears.
What he doesn’t expect is for it to get worse.
Yeonjun forgets the first rule of dealing with an enemy: he doesn’t account for Soobin’s other hand. It ghosts over his shoulder to creep along his nape, a brush of tentative fingertips. The hair on Yeonjun’s neck rises with his hitched breath. He prays that it goes unnoticed.
From his position against Yeonjun’s chest, Soobin probably catches it anyway.
The leader lifts his head to survey Yeonjun’s flushed face, a contented hum vibrating in his throat. Yeonjun yearns for one of the other members to burst into the dorm; Taehyun with a witty comment about how close they are or Kai with another plushie, anyone to save him from combusting on the spot. He’s about to leave scorch marks across their furniture, which he knows they wouldn’t attempt to clean anyway.
Soobin is determined to torment him further, it seems.
Applying the barest hint of pressure, the hand on his nape keeps Yeonjun rooted while Soobin knocks their foreheads together.
And oh.
Oh no.
As if he hasn’t watched it enough already, Yeonjun notes, with staggering clarity, that their pose is almost identical to the weightlifting fairy skit they filmed not long ago. It’s a shame that his biggest worry isn’t holding back a laugh this time.
No, this time the scene feels much more intimate, his legs bracketing Soobin’s hips, the younger’s hand still resting on his thigh.
And why does that...?
No. Definitely not.
Yeonjun is sure it doesn't send tingles down his spine.
A foreign tension tickles his throat - if Dispatch saw them now, they’d probably top headlines for the next few weeks. Scratch that, maybe even the next few months. Fans would forget all about flirty Inkigayo interactions with other idols, any dating rumours squashed at the singular visual of them on this kitchen counter.
The volume of compilations to torture Yeonjun’s mind would surely increase tenfold.
MNET opted against having them kiss like the original drama, yet Yeonjun thinks that a decisive, friendly press of lips would be preferable over uncertain silence, the thickening sense of anticipation that surrounds them now.
He knows Soobin won’t kiss him.
Logistically. They’re just very affectionate friends, after all. But Yeonjun can’t get the scenario out of his mind now that it's appeared. His hands tremble where they grip the counter, wide eyes fixed on Soobin’s face, battling the urge to flit his gaze down to the leader’s lips.
What is wrong with him?
The compilations must’ve been a bad influence, painting a romantic tinge to the point of believability. Though, as the scenario plays out in Yeonjun’s head - Soobin’s fingers tangled in his hair to pull him in - the assurance doesn’t feel too convincing.
Why does he suddenly crave the taste of Soobin’s lips against his own?
It’s insane.
Soobin, the devil, waits to speak until Yeonjun begins to squirm beneath his hands. “Okay. How about…”
The younger pouts and his fierce gaze, which Yeonjun spent ages agonising over in fan cams, softens to something more like the image that MOA associate him with. Cute, wide bunny eyes, Yeonjun thinks, prepared to give in before Soobin opens his mouth to ask.
“Junnie-yah,” the leader whines, “You wouldn’t make me eat cold noodles, right? Please move your pretty legs and soft, talented 4th gen IT boy ass so I can get my chopsticks.”
The cringy aegyo rips a startled laugh from Yeonjun - he turns pliant, letting Soobin manhandle him aside. “Only because you asked so nicely~”
“Finally,” Soobin sighs, retrieving the much desired chopsticks. He returns to his noodles with single minded focus, stirring and singing, “Ramyeon, ramyeon~”
Yeonjun lifts a hand to cover his mouth, unable to stop the nervous energy from fleeing his body in giggles. It spills past his fingers, squeaky and honest; he lets the thought of kissing Soobin go with it.
The comment about his ass isn’t new - Yeonjun’s heard it during a Vlive, no less - but it’s still unexpected. He tries to recover, quieting down. Soobin doesn’t deserve such a joyful reaction anyway, not after the forehead touch stunt, though Yeonjun’s brain quickly latches onto another thing. Pretty?
Soobin thinks his legs are pretty?
Yeonjun hasn’t heard that one before.
Long? Sure. Slim? Yeah. But pretty?
Dazedly, he watches Soobin grab a bowl, unaware of Yeonjun’s curious gaze. Taking advantage of the inattention, Yeonjun muses for a moment, trying to understand why he’s flustered.
It must be the compilations.
Right?
He has eyes so yes, he can tell that Soobin is handsome, definitely in the lead of a romance drama way, gentle and calm with underlying strength. It’s why Soobin makes a great leader, after all. Despite being aware of his friend's charm, Yeonjun has never felt actively attracted to it.
He’s felt flustered, he’s felt appreciative, but he’s never felt attracted.
Like he is… now. Is he?
Maybe he’s taking his role as Kim Bokjoo to the next level. Method acting.
Yeonjun tries not to snort at that.
As punishment for poisoning his thoughts, he decides against posting the selcas he took yesterday. No update on his recent outfits? That’ll show MOA. It doesn’t matter that nobody knows about their existence, or the fact that he was planning to share them. Yeonjun needs to balance the scales somehow.
Soobin tries to protect them from strange or upsetting comments, but if Yeonjun was seeking them out, then he actively chose to walk into the trap; or, more accurately, fall through it, only to crash land right in Soobin’s stupidly large palm. A self-inflicted curse, really. And it’s not like he can confide in Soobin about it either.
‘Hey Chubs, I watched hours worth of shipping compilations about us and went down a rabbit hole of watching your fan cams. I can’t stop myself from acting weird around you because it looked like there was romantic tension between us and, for some reason, I’m suddenly a lot more aware of how attractive you are. It’s making me want things that I shouldn’t - to confirm whether the fans are right about me having feelings for you.’
Yeah, no. Not going to happen.
Yeonjun can already see how it would go.
Soobin would laugh at the compliment, then pose in a stupid way while spouting shit about the endless power he holds as TXT’s ‘sexy man’. He’d ruffle Yeonjun’s hair in a way that should be mocking, but would only be nice, and tell the older that he’s getting worked up over nothing. Just some silly comments from fans that can only analyse their personas in front of cameras - who build a narrative about them without knowing what they’re actually like. Without understanding the depths and facets of their close relationship as a group.
Silly comments that still float around Yeonjun’s head, sounding more plausible as minutes tick past.
He pushes them away, trying to calm his fluttering pulse. It’s foreign, feeling so tense in their small kitchen, but Yeonjun notes that it’s more akin to excitement.
Which is strange. They’re just talking.
Once the noodles are ready, Soobin arches around the bike by the oven, picking up the pot to pour hot water down the drain. His loose sweatpants and oversized hoodie scream of comfort, so different from the shorts and pink sweater he’d left in that morning. Less cute, but somehow, more appealing. Yeonjun is tempted to sink his fingers into the material and not let go, overcome with another desire, one of many today, to fall asleep while clinging tightly to Soobin.
It seems counterintuitive, but maybe sleeping through whatever’s infested his mind would reset Yeonjun, back to before he opened his browser.
The universe must have it out for him, though. Soobin interrupts the moment of peace. “So, how was your day?”
“Good,” Yeonjun says, a vague half-truth, “I’ve just been lying around a bit since I got back. Did some monitoring, watched some videos, you know?”
He hopes that Soobin won’t ask what kind.
“Ah, Junnie-hyung, always working hard~” The leader teases. “I’m sure you don’t need to monitor yourself that much.”
“No, but I can’t say the same for you guys,” Yeonjun scoffs, lie evident in his too-quick response. “So much time wasted on seeing your faces.”
Soobin laughs. “Thank you for your sacrifice. Did you want an excuse to see my sexy face that bad? Did hyung miss me so much?”
Yeonjun nearly chokes on his spit. At a loss, he settles for the usual. “Don’t let your sexy head grow too big, Soobinnie. Hyung had fun watching you stumble in choreography.”
Though still amused, Soobin grows bashful. “Ah you’re right, being sexy doesn’t solve everything. I’ll have to practise Opening Sequence again, I still look a bit awkward in that…”
He mumbles the rest, likely caught in a dance analysis loop from hell - one that Yeonjun can sympathise with.
But similarly, the room feels a little too hot.
Whether it’s from the desire to cuddle Soobin, the joking compliment or the steam rising from the sink, Yeonjun doesn’t know, but he drops down and treads towards the window anyway. He cracks it open, closing his eyes as cool air slips in. It calms the heat in his cheeks and lifts the burning trace of Soobin’s fingers around his nape. The breeze is jarring - especially in a tank top and thin sweatpants - but Yeonjun resolves to act like he’s running warm, if asked.
And it’s likely he will be, because his movement catches Soobin’s attention, their eyes meeting when Yeonjun turns around.
It’s… different.
Unlike anything Yeonjun has felt before, yet at the same time, inexplicably familiar.
Like catching the members’ eyes during interviews, smiles shared while performing live, reassuring hand squeezes in crowds; secret and full of… care?
Certainly electric.
A small rush of joy.
Magnetic, now, pulling Yeonjun forward. He feels drawn in, stepping back into an orbit created by the centre of his thoughts.
Soobin winks, and, with the mellowed atmosphere, Yeonjun would wink back, but he knows it’ll end up more like a dodgy blink. He rolls his eyes instead. “What?”
“How are you not cold?” Soobin shakes his head, setting his bowl on the counter. He grabs the other add-in packets; Yeonjun sees a clear lack of spicy sauce and chooses his form of attack.
“Maybe if you weren’t a baby and ate spicy ramyeon you’d warm up a bit,” he baits, delighted when Soobin’s nose scrunches in distaste.
Just like that, back to bickering.
Yeonjun doesn’t know if he’s relieved or confused.
“Maybe if you weren’t a baby and went to sleep instead of bothering me, I’d be able to eat my mild ramyeon in peace,” Soobin groans, clearly joking.
But for some reason, it stings, lonely hours and tired state leaving Yeonjun sensitive to rejection. Does Soobin want him to leave?
“Right,” he chuckles.
As if by some sixth sense, Soobin yields. “Let’s make a deal, yeah? You can have a bite of it if you stop bullying my sensitive taste buds.”
It’s indulgent. Yeonjun is reluctant to admit how much he likes it - being cared for. Soobin never fails to do that, endlessly kind and attentive. So, naturally, Yeonjun’s defences kick in - he diverts the attention away before he can get overly emotional about something so trivial.
“Will your sensitive taste buds be able to handle the ice cream I bought earlier?” As he reaches for the cutlery drawer, a pair of hands land on his shoulders, spinning him around.
Soobin’s sparkling eyes betray excitement. “You bought ice cream?”
Yeonjun’s hands come up to the younger’s elbows, balancing them. He confirms with a nod, endeared. “Would you like some?”
“Yes, yes please.” Soobin's vigorous nodding makes Yeonjun dizzy.
Their hands drop, and Yeonjun makes his way towards the freezer, kneeling down to retrieve the cheesecake flavoured ice cream from his earlier boredom induced store run.
He only now contemplates why he didn’t bother getting any for the others.
Illuminated by harsh light, he rummages around precariously balanced containers - their own makeshift jenga pile - to grab the one on top. Fitting for a boys dorm, Yeonjun supposes. Coolness washes over him, raising goosebumps along his exposed arms; the steady scratch of chopsticks against ceramic pauses.
Has Soobin eaten the ramyeon so fast?
Yeonjun looks up, already planning to leave the ice cream out to become soup. Restore justice, balance and all that. But what he finds is white knuckles gripping chopsticks, Soobin’s hand stuck in midair with noodles barely hovering over the bowl. His eyes bore into Yeonjun’s, mouth slightly agape. Whether it’s in anticipation of food or some other reason remains unclear.
Yeonjun feels a sense of déjà vu to when he walked in.
Back to square one.
They freeze in place again - ironic, because Yeonjun’s hand is about to turn into an icicle if he doesn’t pull it out of the freezer. The Chaos Chapter: Freeze, he thinks, but doesn’t speak in fear of breaking the fragile silence around them with another silly reference to their discography.
He recalls when the maknaes made him sit inside the freezer to fulfil a promise to MOA - he’d held ice cream then as well, jokingly shutting the door to give himself some ‘privacy’. The tank top he’d worn did nothing to protect him from the cold, and it isn’t helping now either.
Yeonjun reacquaints himself with chilled air embedding itself in his skin.
“See something you like?” He asks, cheeky and light. Nervous.
Soobin breaks their staring contest, setting his chopsticks back in the bowl and running a hand through his hair. Under the kitchen lights, it appears a deeper midnight black than usual, striking against the milky skin of his fingers. Yeonjun needs to stop staring at Soobin’s hands before he bursts a blood vessel.
“And what if I do?” Soobin smirks. Bold, unexpected.
“Can’t help falling for my handsomeness?”
The leader seems to think it over, mouth opening and closing before the boldness retreats. “Nah. I think I spaced out for a second,” he provides.
Yeonjun accepts it at face value and doesn’t tease. No longer guessing at the emotions in Soobin’s eyes, he pulls the ice cream out, palm almost stuck to the icy tub.
He closes the freezer forcefully.
He’d do many things for Soobin but letting his arm fall off from frostbite is not one of them, no matter how hungrily the younger looks at him. Because now that Yeonjun thinks about it, there was definitely something hungry in Soobin’s gaze. It could be excused by the fact that Yeonjun was, quite literally, getting food for him.
The argument sounds weak, even to his own ears.
Maybe Soobin felt a sense of dread at the prospect of sharing mint chocolate chip ice cream, the kind Yeonjun usually gets for himself. That’s more like it. Yeonjun wouldn’t put it past the younger to be dramatic like that.
He places the container down on the counter, twisting it so Soobin can see the text on the tag. “You like cheesecake flavour, right?”
As if he doesn’t know that it’s one of Soobin’s favourites.
As if he didn’t get it with the sole purpose of surprising the leader with it, like he is now.
Soobin studies the ice cream and mutters, “You know I do.”
But why is he looking at it like that?
Before Yeonjun can question it, Soobin pulls him in for a hug, arms wrapped like a vice around his shoulders and seeming almost desperate for contact.
At risk of upsetting him, Yeonjun doesn’t ask if the schedules actually went well, even though he wants to. It’s a strong reaction to some ice cream. Hooking his chin over the younger’s shoulder, Yeonjun’s hands grip the material of Soobin’s hoodie like he’d thought about earlier.
“Are you alright, Soobin-ah?” He asks gently.
Soobin’s nose buries in Yeonjun’s shoulder, lips brushing over skin when he speaks. “Thank you. It’s sweet of you to get a flavour that nobody else in the dorm really eats.”
“No problem, Soobinnie,” Yeonjun assures. He tries to give a subtle opening. “I didn’t know you’d like it this much. Hyung can buy you more, if you want.”
Soobin huffs against his neck. “Is hyung trying to buy his way into more hugs from his favourite dongsaeng?”
“Can you blame me?” Yeonjun fights down a shiver and doesn’t deny it. For some reason, he feels compelled not to oppose the last part. Maybe it holds a grain of truth. “You give nice hugs.”
Soobin’s pleased hum tickles his nape. “I’ll think about it. Did you get some ice cream for the others too?”
Yeonjun’s eyes widen, caught.
“No, I didn’t,” he admits feebly. “It must’ve slipped my mind.”
“Sucks for them,” Soobin laughs.
“Mm.”
It should not feel as monumental as it does.
They all buy food for each other in between busy schedules; none of them have ever gotten emotional like this over it. The gesture is, in essence, insignificant, but Yeonjun won’t complain. Maybe they’re both susceptible to being affected by small things tonight.
His thawing fingers tingle, shared body heat warming them up while Soobin sways them lightly from side to side. Yeonjun lets himself enjoy the moment, mournful that they’re few and far between, always less authentic around cameras that record their every move.
Not any less real or affectionate but, perhaps, less emotive; less raw.
He’s almost overwhelmed, skin crawling with the need to hide his vulnerability, a habit borne of their profession. Yeonjun staves it off and cradles Soobin’s head between his palms, carding his fingers through thick strands of hair. Reluctantly pulling Soobin’s face from his neck, Yeonjun brushes his lips against the younger’s forehead in a barely-there kiss, sentimental in a way that he can’t match with words right now.
And in classic Yeonjun fashion, follows up with, “Are you forgetting that you owe me a bite of ramyeon?”
Still pressed against each other, he feels Soobin shake. The leader’s features school into an impassive mask, but Yeonjun can tell that he wants to throw himself forward in a whole-body laugh.
“You could just make some yourself, you know?” Soobin suggests, not upset over the abrupt end to their moment.
Yeonjun smiles, pleased. Understood. “Why would I do that when you’ve already made some?” He feigns a dejected pout. “Is this how you thank me for your ice cream?”
“Ah, you’re right, it’s not mint chocolate chip. You’ve finally come to your senses. I suppose you deserve some ramyeon for that.” Soobin nods with mock seriousness, disrespecting Yeonjun’s taste right to his face.
Even worse, he’s aware that he’s won. Yeonjun knows he shouldn’t start another fight about his taste in ice cream being perfectly valid. It didn’t end well last time.
“Brat,” he snarks, eyes narrowed.
Soobin grins, sensing the elder’s resignation. He twists around to fetch the previously discarded bowl. Yeonjun resumes his mission, hand extending towards the drawer, when Soobin suddenly leans back, blocking access to it.
Is that how they’re playing now?
He’s about to chew Soobin’s head off in mild impatience; the younger should know not to toy with him when it comes to food. Yeonjun is incredibly serious about food.
Especially ramyeon.
Before he can open his mouth to tear into Soobin, however, the younger asks, “What are you doing?”
It confuses Yeonjun into pausing mid reach.
The irked response of I won’t eat with my fingers you ass dies on his tongue when Soobin lifts the chopsticks, ramyeon twined around them, inviting Yeonjun to take his bite.
With the same chopsticks that Soobin used to scarf down half of the bowl earlier.
Soobin doesn’t mind sharing food and utensils, Yeonjun’s brain supplies.
It doesn’t change much.
Isn’t it like an indirect kiss?
No matter how hard Yeonjun tries to keep them down, the suppressed thoughts of kissing Soobin re-emerge. And not the friendly, chaste pecks, like the one from a few minutes ago.
No, more like the comeback show skit, with Soobin’s breath fanning his cheeks and gentle hands cupped around his face. Just a few centimetres more and he could’ve found out how soft Soobin’s lips feel against his own, what noise he would make if-
Yeonjun steps closer, as if in a trance.
He has to remind himself that it means nothing. Him and Kai have indirectly kissed on camera before, they’ve all shared water bottles during tough dance practices. He’s had Soobin’s spit on his tongue at some point in one way or another. In the grand scheme of things, it really is nothing.
Weird evening aside, Yeonjun can do this.
Apparently Soobin is keen on feeding him too, as he only brings the food up higher, untangling the noodles from their clump in the bowl. “Say ah, Yeonjunnie. Aaah~”
Yeonjun’s nails dig into his palm. “What am I, a baby?”
Soobin snorts, drawing shapes in the air. “Mhm, yes you are. Open up, baby.”
Yeonjun’s mouth drops open.
It doesn’t feel like a very friendly reaction - in all the times he’s jokingly called Soobin baby, he’s never admitted how much he likes it too. He didn’t have to; Soobin usually rolls his eyes, plays it off. Kai and Beomgyu say it back, but for some reason…
It’s not the same.
“Wow, you actually listened,” Soobin marvels, lips twitching upwards.
“Are you going to give me the ramyeon or not?”
“Ah, hyung is so impatient. Is that a new lip tint, by the way?” Soobin smirks, and Yeonjun wants to wipe it off his face. In both a violent and… questionable way. “It looks pretty on you.”
Pretty, again.
Does Soobin not know any other word?
Yeonjun is used to the teasing. But has it ever had this effect? Has he ever felt warm at a simple compliment, one that isn’t even real? Yes, his brain provides. It’s different when he’s paying attention to it.
He slaps Soobin’s shoulder to unload the tension. “Very funny. Are you planning to make me eat cold noodles?”
“Of course not. Say aaah.”
Yeonjun stares incredulously, but Soobin doesn’t budge - he shakes his hand encouragingly, opening his mouth to demonstrate.
Partially hungry - and unable to refuse him - Yeonjun gives in. “Aaah.”
There’s a faint buzzing in his ears, static, as he leans forwards. Tongue resting on his anxiously bitten bottom lip, Yeonjun’s eyes shift from the noodles in front of his face to the curious gaze just above.
Soobin’s eyes flit down to his mouth. “Was that so hard?”
The air becomes charged in the otherwise noiseless kitchen. Yeonjun can’t be the only one feeling it. “What?”
“So stubborn,” Soobin mumbles. He stalls for a second which feels like an eternity, eyes raking over Yeonjun, something shifting in the space that divides them.
Perfectly normal behaviour with a friend, that’s what it is.
Before Yeonjun can say anything about it, the portion of ramyeon is shoved in his mouth - Soobin snickers at the way the older struggles to catch it all.
“Sorry, was that too much?”
Unable to retaliate with words, Yeonjun leans over to slurp up the rest, sucking in the noodles with a sickening squelch. And would you look at that? Soobin must’ve been very grateful for the ice cream. The leader cringes away with his bowl, regrettably no longer attached to the ends of Yeonjun’s generous bite.
“Mm, not enough,” Yeonjun teases, chewing thoughtfully.
“Don’t be greedy,” Soobin hisses, valiantly shielding the remainder of his limp noodles from Yeonjun’s appetite. It’s precious, really, since the eldest is insatiable.
“But I’m still hungry,” Yeonjun taunts. Soobin doesn’t stand a chance, not if Yeonjun wants to sink his teeth into some food.
He’d warned everyone in a Halloween special by choosing the moniker Black Crocodile: once he bites something he never lets go.
Unfortunately for Yeonjun, this isn’t limited to food - it extends all the way to the compilations he dug his teeth into too. Ironic, since he remembers clamping his hand around Soobin’s shoulder when he introduced the catchphrase.
The leader doesn’t take the bait. “And why is that my problem?”
Yeonjun’s jaw clenches in hunger as Soobin lifts another bite up to his own mouth; quite possibly the same hunger he thinks he saw in the leader’s gaze earlier.
He doesn’t analyse what that means for them just yet.
But with each bite that Soobin takes, unflinching eyes and plump lips wrapped around chopsticks, Yeonjun feels more than he probably should. Eyes dropping down to watch Soobin’s throat bob, he swallows in tandem, mouth curiously dry.
“You wouldn’t let hyung go to sleep hungry, right?” Yeonjun half echoes, putting on a cutesy tone.
Soobin brings another bite up to his mouth, eyebrow raised over the edge of a smirk. “Would you like to be fed the rest too?”
It’s almost… flirtatious?
Yeonjun loosens his jaw. It’s all in his head. He feels as if five years are shaved off his life every time he thinks of Soobin in a decidedly more than friendly way, and the count is only going up. The maknaes definitely wouldn’t spare him if they knew, joking about how Yeonjun’s lifespan can take the hit since he’s ‘old’ and going to ‘die sooner anyway’.
And it might just happen - contrary to his offer, Soobin starts to retreat, leaving every question Yeonjun has unanswered. His half-assed attempt to escape is humorous, if anything, because Yeonjun gets what he wants, fighting tooth and nail for it. In this case, more food to drown his crisis in.
If he can’t get answers, the least he can have is ramyeon.
“Why are you backing away, Bin-ah~?” He coos innocently, taking a step forward.
“Stop being annoying,” Soobin groans, shuffling back. “I told you to make your own.”
“But you already have some.” Yeonjun gnashes his teeth in a chomp, withholding hysterical laughter when Soobin’s forearms lock around the bowl. “I just want a bite.”
It’s so easy to tease him. Yeonjun takes another step in the strange dance they’ve begun, only for Soobin to slip out of reach again.
“Of what, I wonder.”
Obviously the-
Soobin chuckles.
Yeonjun stops, words bouncing around his head. He blinks for a moment, confused, before the implication sinks in. Is Soobin addressing the weird tension? Does he know?
The faint red tinge on Soobin’s ears doesn’t feel as triumphant as it should.
Out of his element, Yeonjun gapes. “I- What does that- Do you-?”
Why is he stammering? It’s just Soobin. And sure, the leader rarely flirts back, but after every instance in variety shows, Yeonjun thinks he should be somewhat immune.
Laughing harder at his struggle, Soobin shoots unimpressive finger guns and swipes the sweating ice cream off the counter. It leaves a small ring of water behind. “That’s not a clear answer.”
And Yeonjun, in all his competitive glory, can’t bring himself to regain the upper hand.
Nor can he stop himself from picturing-
“I don’t…” Yeonjun starts, unsure where the sentence is headed. Did Soobin seriously ask if Yeonjun wants a bite of him?
“I’ll just take this then.” Soobin retreats with feigned nonchalance, the remainder of ramyeon, which Yeonjun has suddenly lost interest in, and the knowledge that he flustered his hyung. “Sleep well~”
His door clicks shut.
Yeonjun tries to process what happened, a sick feeling rising in his stomach that he belatedly pin points as something lighter.
Butterflies.
Oh. Oh no.
A twinge of panic shoots through him.
Because why would he feel…?
Following Soobin’s lead, Yeonjun grabs a random snack and retreats to his room. He turns on a dim light, reaching for his phone - it’s a looming presence, screen locked over some part in a compilation series that he can’t recall the number of. Without unlocking it, Yeonjun checks any new notifications, deeming everything low priority enough to be left alone.
He leaves the device on his nightstand, next to grape flavoured hard candy that he doesn’t want to eat. It’s a mystery why he took it in the first place, ever a lover of savoury foods; another point in case to prove that he’s off-kilter tonight.
Groaning in frustration, Yeonjun tugs his shirt off and buries himself under the covers.
Distant noise echoes across the hall as Soobin boots up his computer - Yeonjun closes his eyes, the rhythmic click of keys lulling him to sleep while Soobin’s words replay like a broken record in his mind.
A bite. Of what, I wonder.
Yeonjun chuckles breathlessly.
Soobin 1: Yeonjun 1, he concedes.