Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Everything fell apart on a Thursday, but Hongjoong should have seen it coming from miles away. 

For the most part, it was a very normal day with a very normal schedule. Hongjoong woke up before seven and stayed in bed with his eyes closed until his alarm rang, as if it would make his responsibilities for the day disappear. He was still tired, his eyes too heavy to open; the result of going to sleep long after he should have, but there were things to do and places to be, and he couldn’t catch up on any sleep no matter how much he longed to. 

That Thursday morning, he ate breakfast with Wooyoung and Jongho. They sat around their kitchen table and mumbled their words into their food, too sleepy to make proper conversation. As he looked at their tired faces, Hongjoong wished, not for the first time that week, that they could get a day off soon. There was no time off for them, though, and they had to drag their feet to the elevator when a company car picked them up. 

Even throughout the day, nothing was out of the ordinary. Everything was fine in their first schedule, a small interview with San and his roommates, and nothing was out of place as the others joined them for lunch. In the afternoon, there weren’t any problems during his meetings about the upcoming album promotions, and the filming for their Work fanchant went as well as it usually did. 

Everything was normal and after he managed to sneak a little nap between the end of filming and dance practice, he would even dare to call that Thursday a successful day. So much so that he was caught off guard when everything turned around at the end of the day. 

It was during dance practice that everything changed, and caught up in the middle of it with no warning, Hongjoong didn’t know what he hated more: the situation or how blindsided he had allowed himself to be the entire day. 

Maybe he could excuse not noticing anything amiss earlier. He hadn’t spent much time with Seonghwa; they sat apart from each other at lunch and, even while filming, they didn’t get a chance to talk, busy with something else or engaged in other conversations. Maybe it was justifiable that he hadn’t noticed quicker, but he knew those were just excuses, and they only went so far. If not earlier, Hongjoong should have never overlooked the nervous energy that radiated out of Seonghwa the moment they stepped into the room for practice or how fidgety he had been the entire two hours. 

Seonghwa’s attitude was strange enough for all of them to take notice, but no one had thought much of it despite how out of character it was. They all had days that were worse than others, weird days that made them act differently, and knowing when to recognize them was part of working together while being such close friends. 

Still, it shouldn’t have been overlooked. Hongjoong shouldn’t have looked away and allowed it to be pushed aside. 

The worst part of it all was that Thursday wasn’t even the problem. The problem was all the other Thursdays before, all the other days that had passed without Hongjoong opening his eyes. He should have known what would happen long before it did. 

It wasn’t as if he could hide behind Seonghwa being subtle with keeping secrets from the members. He had never been good at it, especially not from Hongjoong, who prided himself on knowing him so well. 

After years of being friends, spending so many hours of the day together, sharing a room and so many secrets and confessions, Hongjoong knew when Seonghwa was lying and when something was bothering him; he knew all the tells Seonghwa had that not even Seonghwa knew about like the back of his hand.

He knew that when something was bothering him, Seonghwa refused to talk about it for a while. He would spend more time in his room entertaining himself, and when someone sat on his bed to keep him company, he wouldn’t say much. Hongjoong knew the little wrinkle that would appear between his eyebrows if something was on his mind, but he didn’t want to worry them with it, and he knew the look in Seonghwa’s eyes when he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how. 

Hongjoong knew him better than most people and yet… 

And yet, here they were.

Seonghwa hadn’t been subtle or suddenly learned how to hide things from them, it had all been there for Hongjoong to see. The frown on Seonghwa’s face and the look in his eyes, the way he sometimes opened his mouth to say something and then regretted it and took back the words before letting them be heard. It had all been there and somehow it hadn’t even been the most damning evidence that something was going on, that Seonghwa was hiding something from them. 

Hongjoong had seen the signs, had seen the way Seonghwa became more and more glued to his phone and smiled down at the screen as he typed away. For a few weeks now, he would always be the first one to pack up after practice at the end of the day and leave with barely a goodbye. There had been canceled dinner plans with the group, winces as he refused invitations to go out with them a few times, and the excuse would always be the same: too busy with something or other, never any details to give out. It would have been worrying if there hadn’t been a new, vivid light in his eyes and a smile that threatened to appear on his face at any moment. If it hadn’t been for that, maybe Hongjoong would have asked more questions. 

As it was, he didn’t say anything. He stood on the sidelines and watched as Seonghwa’s mood got even brighter and happier each day, as if he were floating on a cloud at times, his shoulders relaxed and his expression open and light. 

But Hongjoong knew, even if he didn’t admit it to himself or talk to Seonghwa about it, that he couldn’t be texting solely Atiny, or his family and friends, every time he looked at his phone and every time he almost ran to the device when a new notification sounded through the room. There had to be more to it, and, as much as he didn’t want to even consider the option, there was an idea that went through Hongjoong’s mind, a very clear one, the only one that made sense to him. 

Still, Hongjoong didn’t ask questions and let time pass with words left unsaid hanging in the air between them.

He could try to tell himself that he was being selfless and making the best decision for Seonghwa. He could pretend that he was giving Seonghwa space to keep his secrets for a while and tell him whenever he was ready to, but deep down, Hongjoong knew that every thought behind his silence had been nothing but selfish. 

The signs were so bright and glaring every time he looked at Seonghwa and saw him staring at his phone. It had all been there, laid out for Hongjoong to see, and he hadn’t wanted to think about the possibilities hiding behind Seonghwa’s screen. Foolishly, he had made himself believe that if he didn’t think about any of it, if he didn’t acknowledge what he knew in his heart and the bottom of his stomach was happening, it wouldn’t affect him in any way. In an attempt to protect his peace, he ignored every flag that was raised in front of him in hopes of making them disappear, and if he was now witnessing the consequences, he had no one to blame but himself. 

He had been an idiot for weeks, a fool who blinded himself on purpose, and now it was Thursday, and he was paying the price. 

He wondered now how different this Thursday would be if he hadn’t forbidden himself from thinking about Seonghwa and his phone. He wondered if the truth would hit him as hard as it did or if he would have been able to prepare himself to hear the words that came out of Seonghwa’s mouth at the end of dance practice. It was a question that haunted his mind, but, in reality, he knew that even if he had tried to do something before or tried to somehow prepare himself, he would never have been ready for what was in front of him now. 

“I have a boyfriend.” 

The room fell silent after Seonghwa spoke. No one said anything, all eyes glued on Seonghwa as everyone waited for someone else to talk first. Hongjoong’s ears were ringing, and he couldn’t even blame loud music for it; they had turned the sound system off almost ten minutes ago already. 

A boyfriend. 

Seonghwa had a boyfriend. 

At least Hongjoong wasn’t the only one shocked by the revelation. When he looked around, he could see that the other members seemed just as surprised by it as Hongjoong felt, their eyes wide and expressions shocked as they looked at him. At least that was something, at least Hongjoong wasn’t alone. It made him feel a little more adequate and less of a rotten friend. Perhaps Seonghwa hadn’t been obvious at all, and even if Hongjoong had allowed himself to pay more attention, he wouldn’t have known any better. 

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.  

“You have a boyfriend?” Someone asked. 

Hongjoong felt too dizzy to distinguish who it was. He leaned against the wall, attempting to look casual and school his expression in a way that didn’t show just how affected he was. He didn’t want anyone to notice, and he didn’t want anyone to ask questions he would never be brave enough to answer. 

“Since when?” 

“Who is he?” 

“When did you meet?” 

“Does he know you’re an idol?” 

“When can we meet him?” 

The questions blended in Hongjoong’s ears, the words falling into each other until he could barely make sense of them. These were the people who had been by his side almost every day for years now, and he was failing to even recognize their voices. 

What was happening to him? 

Why were four simple words affecting him so much? 

They shouldn’t affect him so deeply. This was Seonghwa’s life, and something that made him happy, so why did Hongjoong feel close to passing out? 

He was just worried, Hongjoong reasoned with himself. He was the leader of the group and it was his job to worry about everyone’s well-being, to make sure that they were all happy and that they weren’t in a position that could hurt them or the group. A boyfriend could very well become a problem, even if Seonghwa seemed happy right now. 

For starters, how trustworthy was the guy? How long had he known Seonghwa? And how much did he know? Did management already know about the relationship? Did they have the paperwork ready? Hongjoong would make sure he was there to look through the NDA before it was signed. Just to be sure. He had to ensure that Seonghwa’s safety was the priority and that nothing could go wrong for the group; that was his job. 

He was worried. That was it. That had to be it. 

“We have known each other for a few months now,” Seonghwa was saying when Hongjoong managed to tune back into the conversation. “He’s a cameraman, so he’s aware of the industry. That’s how we met, actually.” 

There was a pretty blush on Seonghwa’s cheeks as he talked, his eyes shiny the way they usually got when he was putting together a new LEGO set, and Hongjoong wanted to turn around and leave, find an empty room in the building, and scream at the walls. 

Worry, he repeated in his head. He was worried. 

“That’s cute,” Yeosang said with a smile, his arm interlocked with Seonghwa’s. 

Seonghwa smiled at him and nodded. 

“He’s really kind,” he said. “We’ve been going on a few dates the past month, and it's finally official. I would like to introduce you soon.” 

Everyone nodded at his words, supportive and wanting to put Seonghwa more at ease. Everyone but Hongjoong, who was worried.  

“And you didn’t tell us sooner?” Mingi asked, bottom lip jutting out. 

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa winced. “I wanted to make sure that it was serious and going somewhere before bringing it up.” 

“You should have told us, though,” Hongjoong said before he could stop himself. His throat felt dry, and it was difficult to keep eye contact, but he pushed through. “There’s more at stake than our friendship here. Has he signed an NDA yet?”

Seonghwa shook his head. The light had dimmed from his eyes since Hongjoong started talking, and it made Hongjoong hate himself. But he had to do this. He had to. It was his job as the leader to worry and to scold if needed and to make sure that the group would be okay. 

Responsibility, he thought, came with tough conversations. That was all. 

“That’s what I mean,” he continued. “A lot can happen in a month. We’ve known forever that we can date, but we need to take precautions.” 

The room fell silent; Hongjoong could almost hear the static of it. Everyone was quiet now that the excitement that had been surrounding them was sucked out with every word that he spoke. It pained him to see the frowns, the way Jongho was looking at him as if he were trying to see right through him, and how Mingi took a small step back.

Nothing pained him more than the way Seonghwa avoided his eyes, fingers restless as they fidgeted with Yeosang’s sleeve. His expression was regretful, and Hongjoong hated to see it on his face. 

“I was cautious,” he said tentatively. “We never met in public, and I never told him important details. We never even took pictures together.” 

“I know you were cautious. I know you,” Hongjoong said. “But I don't know him. We don't know if we can trust him.” 

Seonghwa bit his lip and looked at his feet, his knuckles were white where he was still gripping Yeosang’s shirt. 

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I should have thought more about the group.” 

San opened his mouth, ready to say something, but he closed it again when Wooyoung placed a hand on his arm and shook his head, his eyes darting back and forth between Hongjoong and Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong pretended he didn’t notice that either. After so long, pretending was almost easy. 

He wondered how long it would take for the façade to crumble. 

“I'm not mad at you, Seonghwa-yah. As your leader, I'm just worried.” 

Mad would never be the right word. He couldn't be mad at Seonghwa even if he tried. It wasn’t anger, it was worry. That was it. It had to be it. 

“And as my friend?” Seonghwa asked. 

His voice was still weak, but he chanced a glance at Hongjoong with a hopeful look in his eyes. 

Hongjoong gulped and looked away. He had once promised himself that he would never lie to Seonghwa, that he would always be open and honest with him; it was the least that Seonghwa deserved. But he couldn’t keep that promise anymore. For years, he had kept it close to his chest where it was safe. Not now, though. Not if he wanted to keep the light in Seonghwa’s eyes intact and their group glued together. 

For the first time in years, Hongjoong opened his mouth and lied to Seonghwa. 

“I’m happy for you.” 

2018 

Hongjoong’s relationship with Seonghwa had always been a little different. It wasn’t because they liked each other more than they liked the others or because they got along better - on the contrary, it took them a while to warm up to each other in the beginning - it was rather because there was a certain level of camaraderie between them. It came with their age, as young as they were when they met, they were still the oldest of the group, and, as deep as the bond between all of them was, that was something they only shared with each other. 

As time passed, they got closer; with how much time they spent together and how many team-building exercises they were forced to do because the group had to be united if they wanted to succeed, it was inevitable. It wasn’t purely the obligation that brought them together, though; it was all the hard days filled with practice and lessons, all the arduous nights of doubt and anxiety, and all the hours they spent talking to each other about anything and everything, all that troubled them, all their thoughts and fears. 

They confided in each other and, by the time they debuted, Hongjoong couldn’t see his life without Seonghwa in it anymore. Nothing would be the same without him, not the group, not his life, not Hongjoong himself. However, it was one night, a few weeks after their debut, that stuck in his mind to this day as the one that truly established their trust and the importance that they had in each other’s lives, that connected them in a way they would never be with the others. 

It was mid-November and late at night, too late to be awake when they had to get up early in the morning, and everyone else was already asleep inside their warm bedrooms. Neither the hour nor the cold stopped Hongjoong and Seonghwa from sitting on the small balcony in their dorm, their backs against the wall and their thighs touching from how close they were sitting. 

The sky was dark blue above them, too vast and dark, almost oppressive, and, although Hongjoong knew there were stars above, - there always were, - he couldn’t see any of them in the middle of the bustling city. 

In an attempt not to look at the sky and the mysteries it held, Hongjoong tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. His legs were pulled up to his chest in the small space, but Seonghwa didn’t seem to have the same problem. He looked relaxed despite his long legs, and he was staring directly at the sky, unafraid of the unknown. 

“Do you think we will make it?” Seonghwa asked the night. 

He still looked calm when Hongjoong looked at him from the corner of his eye, but he avoided looking at Hongjoong, and his voice was small, as if he was afraid of speaking the question into existence. 

“That’s a loaded question.” 

Seonghwa shrugged. 

“Do you?” He repeated anyway. 

Hongjoong sighed. It wasn’t a new question, it was something that had run through his head before, since the moment he started training to be an idol, if he was honest. Would he ever make it? Would anyone even join him, or would he be alone? 

Now, he had the answer to one of those questions, while the other remained unanswered, because when the others joined, the doubt didn’t leave; it only became easier to bear. 

“I think we will,” he finally said. “We’re all good and talented, and we work so hard. I think we can do so much more; we can only get better, you know? The world would be very unfair if we didn’t make it.” 

Seonghwa laughed bitterly. 

“That’s the thing, isn’t it?” He said. “The world is unfair.” 

Hongjoong turned his head to look at him, surprised by the tone of his voice. It wasn’t just a question anymore, there was more to it, something weighing down on Seonghwa. It was obvious now that Hongjoong could see his closed-off expression, the way his jaw was tense, and his eyes were a little narrowed.  

“Do you not think we will make it?” He asked. 

Seonghwa took a second to answer. 

“I don’t know,” he said. “I want to believe that we will, but just because we debuted, it doesn’t mean that we will go far from where we are now. There are a lot of factors at play.” 

He was right. Even if it was unfair, there were many aspects that could impact their success and throw them in the opposite direction that they wanted to go. They didn’t have any control over the financial position the company was in, the opportunities other companies decided to give them, or the chances that potential fans chose to offer them. The world was unfair, and it didn’t care for how much they had dreamed of this moment all their lives; it wouldn’t look back if they were left behind. 

Still, the only thing they could do was hope and keep working, and Hongjoong wouldn’t allow any of them to lose the hope and fire in their eyes. 

“It’s only been two weeks. I think the path is only upwards from here,” Hongjoong finally said. “I believe in us and in our hard work.” 

“I wish I were as confident as you are.” 

There was something wistful in Seonghwa’s voice, a sigh hidden behind the words, and Hongjoong chuckled. 

“It’s easier now that I have all of you with me,” he said with a small smile. 

Seonghwa turned to look at him, his shoulder pushed against the wall in a way that had to be uncomfortable, so they could face each other. 

“How so?” 

With his eyes closed, Hongjoong drummed his fingers against his knee, a little nervous as the ghost of the feelings he experienced before anyone joined him took over him for a second. It wasn’t painful to remember, but there was a certain level of sadness that the memories carried, a deep-rooted melancholy for the boy he was back then and what he went through on his own. 

“I was never the type to give up, you know? This has always been my dream, I’ve loved music since I was little, and I did love training and learning something new every day, but it was hard.” Hongjoong said. He had been younger then, more scared and naïve. “Sometimes, I felt like I wasn’t enough and would never be enough, and when I wasn’t haunted by insecurities, I was afraid that no one would join me, that I would always be alone in the company.” 

“It must have been hard,” Seonghwa said softly. 

Hongjoong thought back to the long days with long sessions, dance lessons, followed by rap lessons, followed by vocal lessons, followed by time at the studio. He thought about all that he gave up on, everything and everyone he pushed aside to follow his dreams, and how all he wanted more than anything was to make it with someone else by his side. Despite how hard he had tried to stay hopeful, he had still been so uncertain and fearful of the future at the time. 

“It was,” he agreed. “It got a little better when Yunho joined, but everything was more precarious then. We could never be sure that more people would join, that we would be good enough, that anything would take off. Everything was a gamble that could fall through at any moment, and we were hanging in the balance. I feel more sure of everything now.” 

In a way, the seven of them had saved him and his dreams. 

Despite the responsibility that came with being the leader of the group, one of the older members, and the distance that he sometimes felt like he had to keep from them just so he could be a little more objective, everything became clearer once he wasn’t alone anymore. Now that he had debuted with them by his side, everything felt more certain, and Hongjoong could breathe a little easier. 

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like if you couldn’t debut? What you would do?” 

It was a question that had crossed Hongjoong’s mind just like it had crossed everyone else’s. When something was as unclear as having a future in the industry, especially coming from a small company, it was impossible not to think about the what-ifs and consider the possibility of having to take a different route than the one he wanted the most. If his dreams fell through, he would need a plan B, something to fall back on, but, no matter what, the answer always came back to him the same. 

“I would probably still make music. If I couldn’t be an idol, I would try as a producer.” 

“That makes sense.” Seonghwa nodded. “I couldn’t imagine you doing anything other than music.” 

Hongjoong smiled. It always made him happy to have his dreams validated, to know that people looked at him and saw in his face the passion he felt inside. 

“What about you?” 

“I don’t know. Something boring.” 

“Come on.” Hongjoong nudged him with his elbow. “Don’t say that. I don’t think you could ever be boring.” 

Seonghwa hesitated for a moment, and Hongjoong watched as he looked away, seemingly a little shy. The last time Hongjoong had seen him like this when answering questions was back when he was new at the company and still wasn’t familiar with anyone, since then it hadn’t happened, especially when it was a question from Hongjoong or the others. It made his curiosity spike. 

“Tell me.” He nudged him and made sure his voice was airy enough that Seonghwa knew he could stay silent if that was what he truly wanted.

“A model.”

Hongjoong smiled at him for a moment.

“You could still be a model in the future.”

Seonghwa laughed with a shake of his head. He didn’t believe him.

“If not that,” Seonghwa continued, a change of subject. “I think I would have liked to be a kindergarten teacher.”

Hongjoong didn’t point out how he avoided the topic of modelling. He didn’t want to push when the air around Seonghwa was already so fragile, so he let him be this time.

“Really?” Hongjoong grinned. “I can see that.” 

“You can?” 

There was a small smile on his face as if he wanted to believe Hongjoong but couldn’t quite do it yet. 

“The only kid I’ve ever seen you with is Wooyoung’s brother, but I think you would be good at it. You’re gentle and sweet, even with the other members. They don’t call you mom for no reason,” Hongjoong teased, though there was truth behind his words. 

“Shut up.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes, but his smile was a little more confident. 

They let silence fall over them again, and Hongjoong almost shivered with the icy wind. He was bundled up under some layers, but the November air was still relentless. 

“Can I ask you something more serious?” 

Hongjoong nodded without hesitation. 

“Of course.” 

Seonghwa gulped and refused to look in Hongjoong’s direction. He looked more nervous now, hesitant to even say the words, and he was biting on his bottom lip as if his life depended on it. Hongjoong wanted to tell him to stop - he knew from experience that the stylists would scold him tomorrow - but Seonghwa seemed so unsure that he didn’t dare open his mouth. 

“Do you have a secret that could ruin everything?” 

Hongjoong blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. A secret that could ruin everything. What could Seonghwa even mean by that?

“A secret?” He asked, a little alarmed. “Do you?” 

Seonghwa nodded, and it made him all the more worried. 

“Is it something bad?” Hongjoong asked, albeit a little hesitantly. 

“It is for some people.” 

The words were vague as if Seonghwa was trying to lay down hints so Hongjoong would know his secret without him having to say it, but Hongjoong didn’t know what he could possibly be talking about. The only thing Hongjoong knew was that his heart was starting to beat faster with the knowledge that whatever Seonghwa was about to say had to be important, maybe even a little dangerous. It was Seonghwa’s secret, though, and he was trusting Hongjoong with it. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” 

Seonghwa turned to look at him for a moment, his eyes wide and a little scared, and his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his pants. 

“I think so.” 

His voice was so quiet that Hongjoong almost didn’t hear him with the cars driving below their balcony. It worried him and made anxiety grip his skin to hear how small Seonghwa sounded. 

“You can tell me anything.” 

“Please don’t judge me too much?” He asked with a small smile on his face that was more anxious than anything else. 

“I won’t,” Hongjoong promised. 

Seonghwa took a deep breath to center himself, and Hongjoong frowned at how conflicted and scared he looked. 

“I…” He stopped, took another breath. “Hongjoong-ah, I like guys.” 

His voice wasn’t more than a whisper, the words almost lost to the wind. Hongjoong sucked in a sharp breath, louder than he intended to, and he berated himself for it when he saw the way it made Seonghwa wince. 

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa said quickly. “I know it’s not ideal, and I tried to change, I swear I did. I tried so hard, but it didn’t work. I promise I won’t put the group at risk, though, I won’t ever tell anyone else, and I won’t do anything that could expose it to anyone. I’m sorry, Hongjoong-ah, please don't look at me differently or make me leave the group, I don't think I could take it.” 

Every sentence was rushed as Seonghwa tried to get them out without breathing, and he was looking at Hongjoong with such desperate, sad eyes that it made his heart break. He never wanted one of his members, one of his friends, to ever look like this, especially not because of something that was part of who he was, something that couldn't be changed and would never be wrong. 

It hit him then what Seonghwa had said before coming out, how he had asked Hongjoong not to judge him too much. He had been sure that, no matter what, Hongjoong would always judge him for this, at least a little, at least somewhat. He had been afraid that he wouldn’t be accepted, and he had feared the worst. And yet, he had still been brave enough, trusting enough, to tell Hongjoong what he had been hiding inside.

Hongjoong would make sure to show him that he didn’t need to be scared and that, if there was ever a reason to be scared, they would have to be scared together. 

“Seonghwa-yah,” he called. “No one’s going to make you leave the group. Can you look at me?” 

Seonghwa didn’t seem to hear him, though, and if Hongjoong looked close enough, he could see him starting to tremble. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong. I promise you’ve done nothing wrong.” 

Seonghwa shook his head. 

“How can you say I didn’t do anything wrong?” 

“Because you didn’t. There is nothing wrong with who you are.” 

“I’m gay, Hongjoong-ah. How can you say there’s nothing wrong with me?” 

“Because you’re Seonghwa, and I think you’re a lovely person, and being gay doesn’t change any of that.” 

“Doesn’t it, though?” 

“Of course, it doesn’t. You're not any different just because you like boys.” 

“I’m not so sure about that.” 

“I’ll be sure for you until you’re ready to believe me, then.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, the sound a little wet, and Hongjoong pretended not to notice how misty his eyes were. 

“And,” he continued before Seonghwa could say anything else. “To answer your first question, I do have a secret too.” 

“You do?” Seonghwa asked, curious and a little surprised now. 

“Yes,” he said. 

And Hongjoong was nervous, but after how open and honest Seonghwa had been with him and how anxious he still was, Hongjoong didn’t want to let it show. He said he would be confident for Seonghwa, and he would make sure that he kept that promise. 

“What is it?” Seonghwa asked. 

“I’m bisexual.” 

Although it wasn’t the first time Hongjoong said the words out loud, the mixture of nervousness and relief inside his chest was the same as it always was. There was now one more person in his life who knew the truth, who knew about the secret he kept close in fear of what being open about it could bring, and it felt all the more freeing to know that it was not only one of his members but also someone who was on the same boat as him, someone who understood him in a way others couldn’t no matter how empathetic they were. 

“You are?” Seonghwa asked, his voice and expression full of wonder. 

Hongjoong wondered if he had ever met someone like him, like them.  

“Yes,” Hongjoong said, a little more confident now. “So, if being who you are was going to mess anything up for us, I would be just as much at fault.” 

Seonghwa nodded and relaxed against the wall. 

“Thank you.” 

Hongjoong didn’t need to reply. The silence that enveloped them together with their shared secret was enough. 

Music had been Hongjoong's dream since he was little.

He still remembered how he felt when he listened to Michael Jackson and started wondering how the different instruments worked, how they were combined to make the sounds he was listening to, how they could complement a voice so well.

That was how the dream was born, and it only got stronger with time; it evolved, it gained strength.

He started studying music, bright-eyed and curious as he learned everything it had to offer, everything he could do with it. He could make music, he could make something that would inspire other people, and e knew from early on that music had to be at the center of his career, at the center of his very life. If not music, nothing made sense.

He looked at the people on TV, at the artists on screens and stages, and wondered if one day that would be him. He wanted to be behind the songs that played on the radio, he wanted his mother to tell her friends ‘my son made this song’.

But, even as he wondered, and studied and dreamed, he didn’t know back then everything that a music career would involve, especially one that was as in the limelight as being a K-pop idol. Even after he got accepted into the company and started training, he didn’t think much about anything past music, he barely thought about all the things he would have to do if he ever made it past KQ’s training rooms.

It was only as the years passed and he became older and more involved with the behind-the-scenes that he started learning more and more about all its sides. He glimpsed into the industry and everything it brought with it, the upsides and the downsides, the happiness and despair it could bring to the people entangled in it. It was daunting, exhausting to even think about, but Hongjoong had always liked the challenge and being in the middle of it all. 

The unease didn’t deter him, and he kept dreaming big.

It was worth it to be here now. To have this level of success while doing everything he had dreamed about with his friends by his side and the fans who supported him, who screamed his name and listened to the music he made. It was an indescribable feeling to know that people all over the world liked his music. He could hardly believe it and, every once in a while, he wondered what his little self would say if he were to go back in time and tell him everything he would accomplish in the future.

Some days were better than others, some days were tiring, and others were bright and filled with laughter. When he got up in the morning, Hongjoong never knew what the day would bring with it or how tired he would be at night when he finally managed to lie beneath the sheets. But he was living his dream, and it was worth it. Everything was worth it to live the life that fulfilled him with the people he loved.

All things considered, photoshoots were usually not the hardest of schedules.

They were annoying sometimes with all the time spent sitting on makeup chairs, all the lights and angles he was forced to move in, and all the waiting around for photographers, for other staff, for makeup artists, for the other members’ turns. There was a lot of work that went into the four or five pictures that were released at the end of the process, but, all in all, they weren’t the most tiring schedules Hongjoong had to face.

He had learned how to deal with photoshoots a long time ago, what to do, and how to act. Hongjoong was so used to being photographed by now that it shouldn’t affect him. Cameras, whether they were taking pictures or filming, whether they were professional or a phone in a fan’s hands, were familiar to him by now. Years had already passed since he felt awkward in front of them, now it was natural, a habit he had grown into with age and with his job.

Now, Hongjoong knew how to pose, he knew how to listen to the people behind the cameras and their instructions and how to take them in and make them work in his favour. He knew which side was his best and how to make it shine, he had learned how to look at the lenses in a way that showed what he wanted the audience to see. Alluring, sensual, dangerous, soft, sweet. He knew how to position his face, how to move his body, how to flutter his eyelashes, and make his gaze purposeful.

He knew how to act when he was alone in front of the cameras and, when he was with other people, he knew how to adjust his body and his actions. Most of all, he was used to being in front of the cameras with his members, and he knew how to play off each of them.

He was so used to it that today was supposed to be easy.

It was far from the first time Hongjoong was in front of cameras with Seonghwa. This was their job, they did it almost daily in one way or another. There were so many group shoots and unit shoots through the years, so many pictures taken of them, that standing together was now familiar. Hongjoong knew Seonghwa’s way of working, he knew which one was his best side and how Seonghwa moved under lights and the watchful eye of photographers. With time, they had learned how to play into each other’s strengths and how to lean into each other and look at the cameras in a way that was cohesive and pleasant on the eye.

It was their job to look good together, and they knew how to do it. It was natural and familiar to fall into the rhythm of working with Seonghwa, of playing off what he did to ensure their pictures were as perfect as possible, to make it look like the two of them belonged together, not only in the polished photoshoot sets but also in real life.

They had so much experience with photoshoots, alone and together, that Hongjoong felt pathetic when he stepped into the set and felt how brand new everything seemed somehow.

It was an awful kind of brand new, something that Hongjoong wasn’t used to and was ashamed to admit he felt. The difference in the air came from himself, it was his fault that his shoulders were tense and his fingers sweaty,  and he wished more than anything that he could change. He wanted to press a button and reset his own brain and heart, make everything go back to how it was before. If he kept behaving like this, it would only be a matter of time before Seonghwa noticed. He knew Hongjoong so well, it would be impossible to hide from him, and Hongjoong couldn’t let that happen.

The photoshoot was supposed to be relaxed. It was for Nacific’s skincare line, and the concept behind it was youthful, as soft as the sunlight filtering through the windows behind them. They were acting as two school boys, two friends studying and spending time together in a classroom, almost a decade younger than they actually were. The natural light gave everything a delicate edge, and they were supposed to smile just as gently as they switched between looking directly at the cameras and looking at each other.

It was supposed to be soft and natural and easy, but Hongjoong’s shoulders were drawn in, his muscles rigid, and his breathing heavy. Nothing about it felt natural and easy. Quite the opposite, despite everything.

He knew he shouldn’t feel like this. He shouldn’t be in fight or flight mode when nothing was happening, nothing was threatening him in any way, shape, or form. He was a professional, he had been doing this for years, and he should know better. He should know how to control himself, how to put everything that wasn’t work-related outside the door until he was done, and not let it affect him when he was in the middle of a photoshoot.

Yet he was failing, and the worst part was that Hongjoong knew exactly why he was feeling like this, tense and upset. It wasn’t because of the cameras, it was because Seonghwa was the person next to him.

Hongjoong was an awful friend, there was no other word for it.

He should be happy for Seonghwa, he should be smiling and knocking their shoulders together and teasing him. Do you think your boyfriend will like your pictures? is what he should be saying, a grin on his face as he watched Seonghwa roll his eyes and flush. But Hongjoong would never be able to do that, the mere thought of it left a sour taste in the back of his mouth.

Seonghwa and his boyfriend shouldn’t affect him at all. Hongjoong had already spoken his piece about the safety of the group, and an NDA he had made sure to read had already been signed. His discomfort should have only been tied to their security, and it should have stopped there. 

Hongjoong told himself then that it couldn’t go on any longer, but it was weeks later now, they were standing in front of cameras and staff, and Hongjoong couldn’t even act naturally while doing his job next to his best friend. He felt Seonghwa’s warmth against his arm where they were leaning into each other, felt the brush of his hair on his cheek, and the blackberry scent of his shampoo on his nose, and tried not to flinch away.

Years ago, back when their old dorm and the bedroom he shared with Seonghwa were still home, Hongjoong had started correlating the scent of blackberries with comfort, with rest at the end of a long day. It used to linger in the air of their room, and it stuck to the pillows and blankets that Hongjoong never admitted he stole from Seonghwa’s bed. It was so familiar and, after years, it remained unchanged.

It didn’t bring him any comfort today. It made him restless, it made him want to bolt out of the set and run away.

Everything had changed so much since those days, and everything had changed so much in the past weeks alone. All because of Hongjoong and his inability to not let something that wasn’t his business affect him.

“Look at the camera now.”

Hongjoong did what he was told quickly. He felt safer looking at the camera. The camera wouldn’t look back at him, the camera didn’t have Seonghwa’s pretty eyes and deep gaze.

Hongjoong moved through the poses almost robotically. He attempted to empty his mind and school his expression into something more relaxed, something that could be sold to the public and that hid the tension and the nerves that were building inside him. He couldn’t let his emotions take over, not when there were cameras on him that captured all his microexpressions, and not when Seonghwa was next to him. He couldn’t allow his feelings to become more of a burden to Seonghwa than they already were.

“Here.” A photographer pushed a remote into Hongjoong’s hand. “We can take some pictures like this.”

They directed Seonghwa to stand behind Hongjoong’s chair, and it was all he could do not to sigh in relief. He was being ridiculous, childish even, but he couldn’t look at Seonghwa, who knew him so well, right now. If he did, it wouldn’t take too much effort for him to figure out Hongjoong’s mind and his jumbled thoughts and feelings.

They took a couple of pictures like that, and Hongjoong forced himself to look at both of them on the screen in front of them and monitor both of their expressions. The palms of his hands felt clammy where he gripped the remote, and he clenched his fingers tighter, afraid that he would fumble and drop it.

What had happened to him?

This had been part of his life for years, a job that he was so used to doing, that he had dreamed about. He considered himself a professional, good at what he did. He had been praised for it before, and it made him feel proud of himself. But this? This was pathetic.

Hongjoong took a deep breath, forced himself to look at the camera and smile, and centered himself on the task at hand. Even as Seonghwa was directed to sit on the edge of the table while Hongjoong sat in front of him on a chair, even as Seonghwa leaned into his space to knock the bottles of essence they were promoting together, Hongjoong made sure to keep his composure. 

This was not about him, and his feelings didn’t have any space in the set. Hiding was the safest option, the one that wouldn’t ruin his friendship with Seonghwa and their entire group and career. Hongjoong had come to terms with that years ago.

It was safe and, by now, it was supposed to be easier too.

Because these feelings weren’t new, they didn’t come out of nowhere in the past weeks, they had been there for long enough that he should be able to deal with them. After so many years, Hongjoong should be a professional at hiding how much he loved Seonghwa in all the ways that he shouldn’t. He had so much practice; so many times he looked away, so many times he swallowed what threatened to come out of his mouth. 

It should be second nature, but it seemed that, no matter how much time passed, it would never be quite as simple as Hongjoong wished for it to be.

No matter how much he tried to quiet them down, his feelings were too loud, they screamed in his heart every time Seonghwa was near, and they wailed for him when he was far away. There wasn’t a day that went by that Hongjoong didn’t think of him, that he didn’t long for him, for his eyes on him and his hands on his body. There wasn’t a single day that Hongjoong didn’t want everything that he couldn’t have.

It had been that way for years, and for years, it had been his burden to bear alone. It was Hongjoong’s burden, it was his heart on the line, and he was willing to step on it for the good of everyone around him. Nothing was supposed to change now.

But Hongjoong had been so busy pushing down all his feelings and desires that he failed to think about the possibilities outside of himself. The possibility that Seonghwa wasn’t going to be single forever, and as someone who was with him every day, Hongjoong would have a front row seat to watch him fall in love with someone else.

Ever since Seonghwa told them about his boyfriend, Hongjoong’s heart had been rebelling and rendering him unable to swallow his emotions the way he had always done. It was almost as if his heart was revolting inside his chest, as if it didn’t want to hide his love any longer.

“Can you sit on the other side of the table, Seonghwa-ssi?” The photographer asked.

Seonghwa nodded and Hongjoong relaxed when the warmth of his presence stopped touching his shoulder. It was almost sad how he relaxed when his best friend stepped away from him, it filled him with shame how relieved he was. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. How could Hongjoong call himself Seonghwa’s best friend when he breathed easier with distance standing between them?

Seonghwa sat on the other side of the table, and a makeup artist rushed to do a few touch-ups with powder to their faces. Hongjoong closed his eyes and let her work, anchored himself to the moment and to the job he had to do. Seonghwa would be in front of him now, he was sure they would make them face each other, and Hongjoong had to make sure nothing escaped from him under the watchful cameras and Seonghwa’s even more watchful eyes.

With his eyes still closed as he waited, Hongjoong wondered how everything would be if they lived different lives, if they actually were school boys who met in class and not two idols in an industry that took so much from them for everything it gave back. Would things be easier? Would they be worse?

Maybe they would never have met, and though it seemed almost impossible, maybe Hongjoong would never have fallen in love.

He thought about it now, how life would be without Seonghwa by his side, without his heart in Seonghwa’s unaware hands. Maybe his heart would have never been broken under the weight of unrequited love.

Did it make him a masochist to not want to change anything? To not want to live in a timeline where he didn’t fall in love with Seonghwa? Was he a fool for thinking the pain was worth it for the warmth that filled his chest when Seonghwa laughed?

Was it self-sabotage to want to stay right here?

After the makeup artists left, someone gave Seonghwa a pair of old headphones, and they went through the first few poses quickly. They alternated between looking at the camera and each other, they shared a book between them to sell the school image even more, and showed off the essence bottles a few more times.

Everyone on set was calm and relaxed, but Hongjoong’s shoulders were still tense.

He took a breath.

Seonghwa laid his head on the table, pillowed by his arms, his black hair falling gently against the side of his face. Hongjoong’s eyes were trapped, and Seonghwa held his gaze hostage without even knowing. He looked so peaceful, so calm and happy with a tiny smile on his pink, full lips.

Hongjoong’s mouth parted and his tongue dried as he looked at him, as he traced the curve of his cheek and the shape of his nose. Every part of Seonghwa was so perfectly put together, so beautiful, so captivating. Hongjoong was so weak next to him, so weak for him. He clenched his hand into a fist, nails digging into his palm with the effort to stay put, to keep his hands to himself and not do something stupid like reach out and touch Seonghwa’s hair or caress his cheek.

He wanted to do it, he wanted to be allowed to touch so badly.

It was far from the first time that Hongjoong caught himself staring at Seonghwa like this, so intently, fondness and yearning seeping through his gaze. It wasn’t the first time, even though he had tried to control it, he had been looking at Seonghwa like this for years, but now it was different.

Hongjoong never had the right to stare at Seonghwa, he never had the right to long for him this way. Seonghwa was his friend, that was all they could be, and he shouldn't want more. But now he couldn’t look at him so fondly anymore, there was someone else to look at Seonghwa with all the love he deserved, someone whose eyes Seonghwa wanted to feel. Someone who wasn’t Hongjoong.

Hongjoong blinked and forced his expression to relax, forced himself to smile in a way that was convincing for the cameras. The last thing he needed was for the besotted look that had surely shown up on his face to be caught by the lenses. They were here to sell a product, and Hongjoong’s feelings weren’t part of the mix, they could never be part of the mix, not here and not anywhere else.

Foolishly, when Seonghwa got up and Hongjoong didn’t have to look at his resting face and small smile anymore, he thought he was in the clear. He thought he was safe, that the worst of it was done and they would get to leave the set and go back to the dressing room while they waited for the other member units’ turns before coming back for group pictures.

He should have known better. He should have known that nothing went his way, especially not when it came to Seonghwa.

“Let us get through a few more poses, and you two will be done,” the photographer said.

Hongjoong nodded as Seonghwa rounded the table to see what he was planning.

“I know we’ve already done a few in his position,” Seonghwa suggested. “But I was thinking I could put the headphones on him from behind. That could be cute.”

Hongjoong blinked as he processed the words, his breath caught in his throat as he watched the staff nod eagerly, pleased with Seonghwa’s idea. Hongjoong couldn’t even blame them, it would make for cute pictures, and the only reason he wasn’t agreeing and pushing for it too was that Seonghwa was the person standing behind him.

“Fantastic!” The photographer said. “Get in position and look at the camera as you’re doing it. Just sit with your back straight, Hongjoong-ssi.”

They directed the two of them to the best spot for the lights and the camera angle, and then Seonghwa stepped closer, his arms brushed Hongjoong’s back, and he had to take a deep breath to keep his eyes from fluttering. Seonghwa’s fingers were gentle as they touched his ears and his temples, fluttery and almost ticklish as they breezed by almost without touching his skin.

They took a few pictures like that and, as he gazed down at the book in his hands with what he hoped was a relaxed expression, Hongjoong couldn’t help the way his mind wandered to the past, to 5 years ago, when he was the one putting a pair of headphones on Seonghwa’s head. It had been darker then, the middle of the night in their old dorm room, and Seonghwa had cried when he listened to the song that Hongjoong wrote for him.

It was easier back then. Back when Hongjoong didn’t have these suffocating feelings, back when he was in control and not in danger of melting under Seonghwa’s tender fingertips.

“That is all!” The lead photographer said. “Good job!”

Hongjoong got up as if his seat were on fire and bowed at the crew in thanks. He had made it to the end of the photoshoot without embarrassing himself too much, but he needed to leave now. If he stayed much longer looking at Seonghwa under the natural morning light, what little was left of his composure might go down the drain.

“Thank you for your hard work,” he said to the staff.

As everyone moved to clear the set and fix all the props they would need for Wooyoung and Jongho’s unit shoot, Hongjoong moved out of their way and followed the corridor to the dressing rooms. He needed to drink some water, maybe get through a few breathing exercises, and close his eyes for a few seconds. 

He pushed open the door and didn’t wait for it to close behind him before he was striding into the room and grabbing his water from his bag.

“Hongjoong-ah.”

The door closed with a dull thud behind Seonghwa, and Hongjoong froze with the bottle on his lips. He winced as he turned around, consciously stopping his eyes from widening.

“Yes?” He asked, slowly lowering the bottle from his mouth.

Instead of replying right away, Seonghwa stepped forward. It was a small room and his legs were long. He reached the middle of the room and, with only a few more steps, there would be no space between them. Hongjoong hoped he would stop moving.

“Is everything okay?” Seonghwa asked.

His eyes were kind, and his expression was worried. His gaze roamed Hongjoong’s face as if he were trying to extract from the lines of his expression all the words they both knew Hongjoong wouldn’t say. Because Seonghwa knew that Hongjoong wouldn’t give him the answer he was looking for, he wouldn’t give him the truth, at least not yet. He knew better than anyone how fidgety Hongjoong got when put on the spot, and yet he still asked. Even if it was merely to make sure Hongjoong knew that he was worried, Seonghwa still asked.

“Yes, everything is fine.”

Seonghwa nodded, his face blank. He turned his back to Hongjoong and sat on the makeup chair in front of the mirror, leaning forward as he examined his reflection.

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” he said without sparing Hongjoong a glance. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. And don’t think I’ll let it go forever.”

“I know,” Hongjoong whispered and looked away.

Of course, Seonghwa had noticed his mood. Of course, he knew, and he wouldn’t forget it.

Hongjoong could only hope he didn’t know all the reasons that were lying behind his silence and his avoidance.

He didn’t want to think about how awful everything would be if Seonghwa knew the truth.

2019

At 3am on the 30th of March, Hongjoong was anxious.

When he got home, the lights were already off and the curtains were drawn. Hongjoong wasn't bothered by the darkness; on the contrary, it provided some much-needed comfort right now, so he didn't bother turning anything on. He stood in the middle of the living room now, so dark that not even the light of the moon illuminated the walls. His phone was clutched in his hands, and he tried as hard as he could to slow his breathing and his heart down to a normal pace. He was nervous, and if he let it consume him even more, he would never do what he needed to.

He had been standing frozen for almost half an hour already, his feet planted on the soft carpet and his eyes a little unfocused. Around him, the apartment was quiet, darkness in every room as everyone slept soundly, just like Hongjoong should be.

Three hours ago, everyone gathered in the living room to wish Seonghwa a happy birthday, but there was no sign of it now. It was a few days too early, but it was the last glimpse of free time they had before they had to travel to Europe for the tour, so they made sure to celebrate while they could. Come morning, their day would be full again, and on Seonghwa’s birthday, they would have their London concert, so they improvised a little party despite it still being March.

San bought a cupcake on the way back from the company, and Yunho found a stray candle lost in one of the kitchen drawers. The lighter they used was almost running out of fuel, and Yeosang had tripped over the carpet and almost dropped the cupcake, but all of it made Seonghwa happy. It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t even the right day, but it was enough, and Wooyoung had filled the group chat with pictures and videos of smiles and laughter.

Pictures and videos, the only glimpse Hongjoong got of the party.

It hadn’t been a planned event. When Hongjoong stayed behind at the company after dance practice, he didn't know what he would be missing; if he had, maybe he would have let the night progress differently. However, that was as far as his excuses could go, as right after they bought the cupcake, Mingi had texted him to let him know about the change of plans.

Hongjoong promised Mingi then that he would try to wrap things up as quickly as possible so he could be back on time and be with them when Seonghwa blew out the single candle. Then, he had promised himself the exact same thing. And yet…

And yet, in the end, he hadn’t been home on time.

It didn’t matter that it was for a good reason, that he hadn’t been staring at the wall, but actually working on something, it still ate at him when he got the notifications and saw everything he was missing. It made him feel awful to know that he had hurt Seonghwa by not being present on his birthday. 

It wasn’t even the first time Hongjoong missed something, either - even though it was probably the most meaningful one - and that only made everything worse.

Sometimes it made him think whether spending so much time at the studio, working for himself and for the group, and on their music was worth it. If he was making the right choices, or if he was missing out on too many moments that he would never get back. Was he neglecting their friendship too much? Would the members forgive him for all the times he wasn’t there?

He knew that, sooner or later, something would have to change, and he would have to be the one driving in that direction.

He took a tentative step forward and forced his breathing to remain steady. He might have missed the ‘not a birthday party, but a celebration of Seonghwa’s existence’ as Mingi had put it, but he could still make up for it. He just had to keep moving forward, to cross the threshold between the living room and the corridor where their bedrooms were.

He walked carefully down the corridor, mindful of each step not to make any noise. The last thing he wanted was to wake someone up accidentally when he knew how much they needed to sleep while they had the chance. He would never be the one to take their rest away from them.

He opened the door to the bedroom slowly; sometimes the wood creaked, and he didn’t want that to be the noise that woke Seonghwa up. There was a little light inside the room. Seonghwa didn’t like complete darkness while he slept, so the glow of the moon peeked in through the window. It gave Hongjoong enough light to move around the room without bumping into anything.

His shoulders were tense as he walked farther inside, his fingers still tightly wrapped around his phone. He held his breath until he was in front of the bunk beds, not to make any noise, but also because he felt he couldn't breathe. He was nervous, anxious, and too scared of something that should be simple.

He stood in silence for a moment and breathed in and out deeply. He had to calm down. He couldn’t let himself give up now. He couldn't take the coward's way out again, especially tonight when he had to make it up to Seonghwa for not being present when he should have been.

“Seonghwa,” he called out, voice almost catching in his throat.

He gulped. The tone of his voice wasn’t enough to be heard, much less to wake anyone up, but it was a beginning. It chipped at the edge of Hongjoong’s hesitation and allowed him to step forward again.

He kneeled in front of the bunk beds and settled his phone on the floor next to his knee. With his eyes closed so he wouldn’t back down, he reached forward and grabbed Seonghwa’s shoulder to shake him awake.

Despite his goal, his movements were soft. He wanted Seonghwa to wake up gradually, to ease him out of sleep instead of startling him. If he was waking him up in the middle of the night when he should let him sleep, Hongjoong would at least make it as comfortable as he could.

“Seonghwa-yah,” he tried again, his voice and touch a little firmer.

Seonghwa sighed and moved slightly, only enough to disturb the sheets around him, but not enough to wake up.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said once more.

Seonghwa moved again, the shift more noticeable this time. He mumbled something that Hongjoong couldn’t understand, and his breath caught for a moment before it evened out, and he blinked his eyes open.

Hongjoong could barely see him, but he knew the moment that Seonghwa understood it was still the middle of the night and someone had been shaking him awake.

“What?” He said, voice deep and sleepy.

“Seonghwa-yah.”

It seemed that was the only word that he could say.

“Hongjoong-ah?” Seonghwa asked. “Is everything okay?”

To know who was in front of him was enough to wake him up, and Hongjoong bit the inside of his cheek as he watched him sit up on the bed.

“Everything’s fine.” Hongjoong nodded.

“Did you just get home?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong winced.

“What time is it?”

“Three-thirty.”

“It’s late,” Seonghwa said with no emotion in his voice. “Why are you only getting back now?”

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong said.

It wasn’t enough, but Hongjoong didn’t know what else to say. Apologizing was only worth so much when they both knew it was far from the last time this would happen.

There was silence, only their breathing in the room, and then Hongjoong talked again.

“Happy early birthday.”

One more beat of silence.

“Doesn’t feel very early to me,” Seonghwa said, tone unamused. “Is that why you woke me up at 3am? To wish me a happy birthday. You should have done that 3 hours ago when everyone else was here with me.”

Hongjoong looked away from him, unable to bear the weight of his disappointed stare, even in the dark.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said.

“You’re always sorry. Sorry can only do so much.”

Hongjoong fidgeted with his hands, unsure of what he could even say to make the situation better and ensure that Seonghwa wouldn’t stay mad at him. Maybe he didn’t deserve Seonghwa’s forgiveness though, maybe he deserved to simmer in the heat of Seonghwa’s disappointment.

“Why weren’t you here?” Seonghwa asked before he could come up with anything.

“I was at the studio.”

“Of course, you were,” Seonghwa scoffed.

He wasn’t happy with Hongjoong, that much was obvious, and today, late at night and on the day that wasn’t his birthday but somehow felt like it was, he wouldn’t bother pretending that nothing was wrong.

“I was making something. A new song.”

“And did this new song need to be finished in the middle of the night? Tonight?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Hongjoong answered anyway. He had to answer if he wanted to be forgiven.

“No,” Hongjoong conceded. “But it had to be done today. I won’t have time once the tour starts.”

“I wasn’t aware there were any deadlines right now.”

Their next comeback was in June, still two months and a half away, but they already had everything lined up. Seonghwa was right, there were no more deadlines for music creation, they had finalized the songs months ago and were ready for release, but this one was different.

“This wasn’t a company deadline.”

“What was it then?”

“I gave myself the deadline,” Hongjoong said. “Your birthday.”

“What does my birthday have to do with anything? And my actual birthday is still a few days away.”

“I know, but before your birthday we’re traveling and on your birthday, we have a concert and after your birthday we have more concerts…” Hongjoong trailed off. He knew he wasn’t doing a good job of conveying the sense of urgency that had been coursing through him.

He didn’t know how to explain that if he let more time pass, he would lose his nerve and the song that meant so much to him, that was so raw and honest, would never see the light outside of his drafts. He couldn't have let that happen.

“I was working on your birthday present,” he finally added.

“What?”

“I wrote a song for you. About you.”

The silence felt like static in Hongjoong’s ears. It was suffocating, and it did nothing to cover the rush of words that had tumbled from his mouth before he could remember all the sentences he had rehearsed.

“You- You did what?”

“I wrote you a song. As a birthday gift.”

“Why would you do that?”

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe Hongjoong should quit while he was ahead, but he already got this far. He already got to this point. He was sitting in front of Seonghwa, and the secret was already in the open. What was the point of going back now? If he regretted it later, at least he would regret the entire situation instead of just a part of it.

It was far from a comforting thought, but it was enough to keep him sitting on the floor.

“Because there are many things that I want to say to you, but I’m not good with words when I’m talking like this, in front of you, so I had to find another way to let you know.”

“To let me know what?” Seonghwa asked, his voice almost a soft whisper now.

“How much you mean to me. How important you are to me.”

“Hongjoong-ah…”

Hoongjoong shook his head. If Seonghwa started talking and asking questions now, he wouldn’t know how to respond. He needed Seonghwa to listen to the song. It would tell him everything that Hongjoong was too tongue-tied to say out loud.

“Just… Let me show you?”

It was a soft question, a request he was almost afraid of voicing, even though it was what he needed to say.

“Okay.”

Hongjoong nodded to himself, an attempt to build up his courage. This was it. There was no backing out now. He told Seonghwa about the song and now he would have to show it and he couldn’t run and hide in another room. 

With shaky limbs, Hongjoong got up from the floor. He got on his tiptoes in front of the bed and put his arm through the bars of the top bunk, tongue sticking out as he tried to reach as far as he could.

“What are you doing?” Seonghwa asked.

“Just a second.”

Finally, Hongjoong made a victorious sound and stood straight again. He ran a hand through his hair and slowly, almost afraid, took a seat at the edge of Seonghwa’s bed.

He could barely see Seonghwa, but he was able to make out the shape of his body just enough to reach out with slightly shaky hands to place the headphones he had fished from his bed over his head. He held his breath as his fingertips brushed Seonghwa’s hair, soft from all the products Seonghwa lathered it with on his nightly shower.

To his surprise, Hongjoong wasn’t the only one consumed by apparent nerves.

Seonghwa’s breathing had also quickened. Hongjoong could hear it in the quiet of the room, but, even if he couldn’t hear it, Hongjoong would have still known. He could feel it when Seonghwa’s breath hit the skin of his wrist, warm and heavy. It made Hongjoong shiver, and he retreated his hands from the headphones as quickly as he could.

In his haste, he almost dropped his phone, shaky fingers inserting the password wrong twice before he could unlock it.

“Are you nervous?” Seonghwa whispered.

“A little,” Hongjoong admitted.

Somehow, the darkness was a curse but also a blessing. He couldn’t see Seonghwa or his expression with the lights off, he couldn’t know what he was thinking or even attempt to read his face to know what was going through his mind, but Seonghwa couldn’t see him either. 

The dark made Hongjoong braver, less likely to hide under the covers, and more sure of himself.

“You don’t have to be,” Seonghwa assured, though his voice was a little shaky too.

Hongjoong nodded and opened the folder where he had placed the file earlier in the night.

“I’ve been working on it for a while,” he started. “I didn’t even know if I would ever finish it when I started.”

Hongjoong remembered the first time he touched this song. It was months ago, in this very bedroom, in the middle of the night. The parallel was almost cathartic, but while this time Seonghwa was sitting next to him, back then he had been long asleep, breathing softly on the bottom bunk while Hongjoong snapped the tip of his pencil on the top bunk with the strength of the first words he wrote on the pages of his notebook.

“But you did finish it,” Seonghwa said. “For my birthday.”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong sighed. “It felt like an appropriate time to give it to you.”

Neither of them commented on the difference between the date on their minds and the date on the calendar again. It didn’t matter.

“Can I hear it?” Seonghwa whispered.

Hongjoong nodded and bit the inside of his cheek almost hard enough to draw blood as he forced his finger to press on the file name.

For Seonghwa was all that it said. 

It was a working title. It would have to change if he ever wanted to do something more with it, if he wanted to share it with someone other than Seonghwa. But it was enough for now. The song was for Seonghwa, every word in it was for him, and even if the title changed one day, the essence of it, the person behind every word, would remain the same.

Summoning all the courage he needed, Hongjoong finally pressed play.

Even if he hadn’t been the one to click the button, Hongjoong would have still been able to tell when the song started based on Seonghwa’s breathing. It became slower, deeper, as if hearing it over the song bothered him and he shuffled for a second until he stopped moving completely. Hongjoong couldn’t see his face, but he had looked at him enough times as he heard a new song to know that his eyes were closed and his fingers were tapping on his thighs to the beat.

These days I get such thoughts sometimes
That maybe I've been doing pretty well, and the proof of that is you

Hongjoong had sat with him listening to new songs many times, some that were written for the group, some that he wrote for no other reason than a spark of inspiration on a random Wednesday morning. In the beginning, he felt a little reluctant, a little shy, to show his work to anyone, but it was part of the job and, slowly, he got used to it, learned how important the feedback was.

This time it didn't feel like all the other times Hongjoong showed Seonghwa a song he wrote, though. It was one thing to let him listen to a song made for the group or a song that didn’t have any deeper meaning, and it was another to show him a song that was made solely for him with Hongjoong's innermost feelings plastered in every line.

I have something to say
The words I wanted to say
I've been thinking about it all night

As the seconds passed, Hongjoong repeated in his mind all the words that he wrote and that were now being told to Seonghwa’s ears. They spoke of all the things he wanted to say but never knew how to, all the things he wanted Seonghwa to know, but was too embarrassed to admit.

We can lean on each other in this tough world
Even if there's a typhoon
Even if the rain is heavy and the wind rises

It felt too vulnerable to sit here, in front of Seonghwa in the dead of night, and show so much of himself, of his thoughts and feelings. The song was only a little under three minutes long, but it felt like a lifetime as Hongjoong watched the progress line move on his screen.

Thank you for being on my side

He hoped that Seonghwas was listening well to the lyrics, that he was taking in everything that Hongjoong was finally saying and that he understood. He needed Seonghwa to hear and believe every word he was singing, he needed him to know that his presence was crucial in Hongjoong’s life, even if most of the time Hongjoong had difficulty expressing it out loud.

You and me, you and me
It will always be us

Hongjoong held his breath as he watched the song hit the last second mark and stop on his phone screen. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and then opened them again to stare at Seonghwa’s silhouette.

It was silent in the room. Seonghwa was quiet, and Hongjoong didn’t know what to say. It seemed they were both holding their breaths, waiting for the other talk.

It was Seonghwa who broke the silence.

“Can you play it again?” He asked.

His voice was thin and wet, almost too quiet to be heard, and Hongjoong gulped.

He had seen and heard Seonghwa cry before, he knew what he sounded like when he did, he didn’t need the lights on to see the tears to know that he was crying now.

Hongjoong’s first instinct was to curse himself, to close the file on his phone, delete it and never talk about it again. Seonghwa was crying, and it was his fault. Had Hongjoong said too much? Had he been too honest? Were the lyrics too raw?

But Seonghwa was asking him to play it again. He wanted to hear the song again. If he hated it, he would be kicking Hongjoong out of his bed, maybe even out of their room, he wouldn’t be asking for more.

Hongjoong repeated that in his head until he started to believe it.

“You want to listen to it again?” He asked, just to make sure he had heard him correctly and didn’t need to break his phone to get rid of the song.

“Yes,” Seonghwa said. “Please, Hongjoong-ah.”

And who was Hongjoong to deny him when he was asking so desperately and the song was his anyway. He might have been the one writing it, but the song was Seonghwa’s, and he could do anything he wanted with it now.

“Okay,” he said and pressed play again.

This time, he wished that the lights were on. The dark was a protection, but he wanted to see Seonghwa’s face. He wanted to watch his eyes as he listened to the song Hongjoong wrote for him. He wanted to see his expression, to read his thoughts on his face and see how he felt about his song.

He got up from the bed, a small smile unwittingly appearing on his mouth at the soft, confused sound Seonghwa made, and turned on the lights before he could regret it.

He blinked against the light that, although low, was still too harsh on his eyes and looked back at the bed.

Seonghwa was sitting with his shoulder leaning against the wall and his knees drawn up to his chest. His hair was messy and sticking up under the headphones that hadn’t been placed on his head properly, and Hongjoong could clearly see the teary eyes and the wet tracks on his face when Seonghwa looked up at him.

“Do you like it?” Hongjoong asked when he sat back on the bed, and the song finished again.

Seonghwa stared at him in silence for a moment, and Hongjoong reached out to remove the headphones when they started slipping from his head.

“What do you think?” Seonghwa asked, a small chuckle escaping as he lifted a hand and ran his fingers under his eyes. “I’m crying.”

He looked down at his wet fingers, but there was a small smile playing on his lips.

“Is that a good thing?” Hongjoong asked.

Seonghwa laughed as he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas.

“This time it is.”

They sat in silence for a second, Seonghwa fidgeting with the headphones in his lap and Hongjoong watching him. It was peaceful and, although Hongjoong’s heart was still beating a little too fast, he felt calmer now.

Seonghwa liked the song, and, in the dark of the night, that was all that mattered.

“Did you mean it?” Seonghwa asked. “What you said in the song?”

His voice was so tentative, so soft, almost as if he were afraid that Hongjoong would tell him no, that he would laugh and tell him it was a joke all along.

“I meant every word.”

“Hongjoong-ah…”

“I’m sorry that I’m not good at telling you how much you mean to me. I don’t think I should feel as embarrassed to talk about my feelings as I do. But you’re so important to me, Seonghwa-yah. I don’t say it enough, but I don’t know where the group would be without you. Or where I would be without you. I just wanted you to know all of that, and I feel like music is the best way for me to say it. I think it’s the only way I know how to say it. I’m just sorry I’m not a better friend to you.”

Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows.

“What are you talking about?”

Hongjoong shrugged.

“You’re not a bad friend.” Seonghwa frowned. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“I just think I’m not as good as you and the others deserve. I’m not present enough. I don’t tell you enough how much you mean to me. I don’t appreciate you enough. I don’t think I’m enough for you, or the others, for that matter.” He shrugged as if his words were a given.

“Hongjoong-ah…” Seonghwa trailed off, shuffling around to get a little closer. “I think you’re underestimating yourself and how well we know you.”

“What do you mean?”

“We know you. We know how you work and how you think. Yes, we would like to spend more time with you, but we know why you’re away. We know that you’re working for the good of everyone, for the good of the entire group. And you might not say everything that you feel with your words every day,” Seonghwa smiled softly at him, proof that he knew what was going through Hongjoong’s mind at this very moment. “But you don’t need to. We know it already. We know how much you care about us. It’s impossible not to know, Hongjoong-ah.”

“Oh,” Hongjoong said, looking away from Seonghwa’s gentle eyes.

“Of course, it’s nice to hear the words every once in a while,” Seonghwa continued, glancing down at the headphones in his lap. “But you don’t have to beat yourself up over that. We know your heart.”

“Thank you,” Hongjoong mumbled, as bad at receiving compliments and reassurance as he was at talking about his feelings. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday party.”

Seonghwa shook his head.

“I do wish you were here when we sang and ate the cupcake. You’re my closest friend, of course, I want you with me on my birthday, or kind of my birthday,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But I know now why you weren’t. I won't say it’s okay, but I will say I understand. And I am thankful for the song. It’s beautiful.”

“I had to finish it tonight. It’s your birthday gift.”

“For the record, I wouldn’t have minded receiving it after the tour.”

“I know.” Hongjoong nodded. “But I would have lost my nerve and never shown it to you then.”

Seonghwa laughed with a shake of his head.

“The song is beautiful. Thank you, I don’t know what I did to deserve it.”

“Didn’t you listen to the lyrics?” Hongjoong grinned, feeling a little more at ease. “You were with me through everything. My biggest supporter.”

Seonghwa smiled shyly, fingertips running over the headphones again, as if he could feel on his skin the song that wasn’t playing anymore.

“Is it really for me?” Seonghwa asked and there was wonder in his voice.

“Yes,” Hongjoong whispered. “Every part of it is for you. It was all made with you in my mind.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“So you’ve said,” Hongjoong teased despite his reddening face because if Seonghwa kept complimenting his song, he might combust on the spot and burn a hole through the blankets.

“I mean it. It’s the most meaningful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Hongjoong looked away so Seonghwa wouldn’t see the blush rising to his cheeks.

Maybe he should have kept the lights off after all.

“Are you ever going to release it to the public?” Seonghwa asked.

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong said honestly. “I didn’t think about it past showing you. Do you think I should?”

Seonghwa looked away for a moment and bit his lip before turning back to Hongjoong.

“Is it egotistical that I want the world to hear it? To want everyone to know that you wrote a song for me about how much I mean to you?”

Around Hongjoong, the world felt like it paused for a moment. He stared at Seonghwa, his words running laps in his mind, and his breath faltered.

Seonghwa wanted to share the song. He wanted everyone to know. He wanted the world to know that Hongjoong wrote it for him, he wanted people to know the words, to know how much he mattered to Hongjoong. He wanted everyone to be aware of their connection, to know his importance in Hongjoong’s life.

It lit up an unfamiliar fire in Hongjoong’s veins, something strangely possessive. He thought he wanted it, too. He liked the thought of people around the world pressing play and hearing a song that, no matter how many people listened to, would always be Seonghwa’s above everyone else’s. That people would listen to the words and would know that, in the end, it was Hongjoong and Seonghwa. It would always be them.

“We can release it,” he said. “We could mess around with the lyrics a little, have Mingi add something to it, change the production a bit, and it would be ready to put on an album.”

“You would like to share it too?” Seonghwa asked.

“I want everyone to know you’re my closest friend, Park Seonghwa.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa said, and his breath was a little quick again.

“This version is only yours, though,” Hongjoong said. “No one else will ever hear it.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Seonghwa smiled, a glimmer of fire in his eyes. “Now, can I listen to my song again?”

My song.

It would always be his song.

“What do you think he will be like?”

The restaurant was warm and lively, and the booth where Hongjoong was sitting was red and pillowed. The atmosphere was comfortable, and the girl who had greeted them and handed them their menus had been sweet and kind, understanding when they said they wouldn't order yet as they were still waiting on a few of their friends. 

Everything was cozy, and Hongjoong had never felt more uncomfortable. 

“Probably nice and sweet," Yunho said. “It's what Seonghwa always says.” 

"He likes bad boys, though." Wooyoung leaned over the table to wink at him. 

“Maybe he's a little bad,” Jongho grinned. “If you know what I mean.” 

He winked obnoxiously back at Wooyoung, who laughed loudly, and Hongjoong stared at the open menu in front of him, as if the more he used his eyes, the less his ears would hear. 

"You good?" 

Hongjoong blinked and turned to look at Yeosang, who was sitting next to him, staring with a furrow between his eyebrows. 

"What?" 

"I asked if you're okay." 

"Why wouldn't I be?" Hongjoong asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

From the look Yeosang gave him, it wasn't working.

"You've been acting weird for a few weeks now,” Yeosang pointed out. “And you’ve been glaring at the menu since we sat down.” 

"No, I haven't." 

Yeosang looked at him, unamused.

"Are you seriously trying to lie to me right now?" 

Hongjoong sighed. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just tired." 

Yeosang’s face told him all he needed to know about how little he believed him. It had been far too many years since he had been able to fool his members. 

“Hyung,” he trailed off. “That lie won't work forever. Especially if you keep repeating it." 

Hongjoong didn't know how to reply, but he was saved from doing so by the new arrivals at their table. 

Saved or cursed. 

"Hyung, you're here!" 

Hongjoong looked up at Wooyoung’s voice and gulped once he followed his gaze. 

Seonghwa stood next to the table, clad in a pair of black trousers that had been fitted for him and a turtleneck tucked in at the waist. There was nothing special about the outfit; it was perfect for a dinner out with friends, and Hongjoong had seen him wearing the same or similar clothes plenty of times. He had even seen him wearing way more sensual outfits before. And yet, no matter how basic, no matter how many times he wore it, Seonghwa still made it seem as if he were a model on a runway. 

Or maybe Hongjoong just liked him too much.  

He averted his eyes so he wouldn't look at Seonghwa anymore and ended up looking at the person he had been trying to fool himself into believing wasn't real. 

The man standing with Seonghwa was a few centimeters taller than him, his hair and eyes were dark, and his cheekbones were sharp. He was handsome and he stood with his back straight and a confident yet friendly smile on his face, he dressed well, the cut of the dark clothes accentuating the muscles in his body, and he took turns staring at all of them as if memorizing their faces. 

“I’m sorry we’re late,” Seonghwa was saying, though his words sounded a little muffled in Hongjoong’s overwhelmed mind. 

He attempted to set his face into a neutral expression and not let any of his most unpleasant emotions show. He was an idiot, feeling too much and wanting too much, and he didn’t want anyone to notice how uncomfortable he was. He didn’t want his secret to get out. It wouldn’t be fair to Seonghwa if he started acting weird and hostile during a dinner that was so important to him. 

He could still feel Yeosang’s eyes on him, but he didn’t acknowledge him either, too afraid of how perceptive his friends could be. 

It was a wonder that no one had found out about his true feelings yet. Or it was a wonder that they were still allowing him to pretend they hadn’t. 

“That’s alright,” Hongjoong said. “We haven’t ordered yet.” 

He steeled himself when both Seonghwa and his boyfriend turned to look at him, attempting to keep his breathing under control and hyper-aware of every muscle on his face as he tried to smile pleasantly at them. 

At least, his words seemed to put Seonghwa more at ease. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Yunho grinned. 

“Right,” Seonghwa said. “This is Juwon. My boyfriend.” 

Hongjoong hated everything about the words. They scratched his ears and stabbed his chest, and yet he loved everything about how pretty Seonghwa looked with a pink blush coating his cheeks. 

The introductions didn’t take too long. After sitting down, Seonghwa went over their names quickly and they bowed their heads politely at Juwon, who kept nodding at every single word said, attentive and interested in the random tidbits about them that Seonghwa added. 

Juwon worked as a cameraman, as Seonghwa had told them, he worked for various shows and had been there when they were on stage a few times. They met backstage at one of those venues and hit it off right away. According to Juwon, there had been an instant attraction between them the first time they talked, something electric running in the space between them, that they resisted once, twice, before they exchanged numbers the third time they ran into each other. 

Hongjoong wondered what show it had been. He looked back at the past months and recalled the times that he had seen Seonghwa leave their dressing room and tried to remember if he had noticed anything different in his demeanor or if there hadn’t been anything for him to look for. Maybe it had been one of those days when Hongjoong left early to go to the company on his own, for a meeting or his studio, and hadn’t been in the same van as Seonghwa to notice anything amiss. He wondered and questioned and tortured himself with the what-ifs, with how much he had allowed himself to miss and overlook, and dug his fingers into his thigh under the table. 

Juwon’s words were pretty and confident, he spoke highly of Seonghwa and smiled at him every time he made Seonghwa feel flustered and shy. He made the members laugh as they ate dinner and shared anecdotes about his work and personal life. He seemed genuinely interested in everything they had to say, hanging onto their words and giving them his full attention. The entire time, he kept a hand under the table, and Hongjoong knew that if he were to look, he would find it resting on Seonghwa’s thigh. 

He hated everything about it, about the situation and the dinner, and the man sitting in front of him who had done nothing wrong except date the person that Hongjoong was in love with. 

“Hyung.” 

Hongjoong averted his eyes from his food, where they had been glued for minutes now in an attempt not to stare at Seonghwa and his boyfriend and that damned hand touching him. 

“Do you need something, Yeosangie?”

Yeosang raised an eyebrow and shuffled slightly on the booth so he could sit closer to Hongjoong and lean in to speak in his ear. 

“I need you to at least pretend like you wouldn’t rather be anywhere but here.” 

Hongjoong gulped, looking at Yeosang’s serious face from the corner of his eye. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Yeosang sighed. 

“I don’t care that you don’t want to talk about it right now, hyung. But this is important for Seonghwa hyung, so stop ruining it.” 

“I’m not ruining anything,” Hongjoong grumbled. 

“How do you think he feels when his closest friend won’t even look at him or make an attempt to talk to his boyfriend?” 

The words were almost hissed in his ear, sharp and truthful, low enough that only Hongjoong could hear them but loud enough that they cut through his anger and made him grimace. He was being selfish, an asshole that didn’t deserve for Seonghwa to think of him as his closest friend. 

“You’re right,” he sighed. 

“I know it sucks, hyung,” Yeosang said without offering more details of what exactly he knew. “But you have to do it for him.” 

Hongjoong almost laughed. For him, for Seonghwa, he was willing to do anything, including ripping his heart out of his chest and stepping on it if he had to. He would torture himself to make sure Seonghwa was happy, and if that torture included talking to Seonghwa’s boyfriend as if Hongjoong didn’t hate the way he was holding Seonghwa’s thigh under the table, then that’s exactly what Hongjoong should and would do. 

For Seonghwa, he reminded himself, for him and the happiness that he deserved more than anyone, the happiness that he would never seek from Hongjoong. 

He turned away from Yeosang to look at Juwon and Seonghwa. 

Juwon was talking to Mingi, having a deep discussion about something that Hongjoong couldn’t hear, but where Jongho intervened every once in a while. And Seonghwa… he was staring directly at Hongjoong with a furrow between his eyebrows and his lips downturned. He seemed concerned for Hongjoong, asking with his eyes if he was okay and Hongjoong had to lie to him again, to offer him a small smile and hope that it was convincing because Seonghwa could never know how Hongjoong felt and how sitting in front of him and his boyfriend was breaking his heart into pieces he would never be able to repair. 

“So, Hongjoong-ssi,” Juwon’s voice made Hongjoong drop his eye contact with Seonghwa. It was for the better; the more Seonghwa looked, the better he would be able to read the lies on Hongjoong’s face. “What is it like being the leader of the group?” 

“Ah,” Hongjoong chuckled, hoping it was convincing enough that no one else would question him or notice how he wanted to flee the restaurant. “It’s been worse, they are more well-behaved nowadays.” 

It was a sad attempt at a joke in his opinion, but it was all that he could offer at the moment.  

“Well, I admire you for it,” Juwon laughed, undeterred by Hongjoong’s awkwardness. “I’ve been in charge of a camera crew before, and it wasn’t an easy job. I can only imagine that leading a group in your industry is probably worse.” 

And wouldn’t everything be so much easier if Juwon weren’t so nice? Because he was nice and not even Hongjoong, as consumed by the jealousy that shamed him as he was, could deny it. 

Throughout the entire dinner, Juwon made an effort to talk to everyone at the table. He was polite to them and the restaurant staff, he was funny and charismatic, and attentive to those around him, especially to Seonghwa. He kept piling his plate with food and leaning in closer to listen to him, and although they didn’t touch too much because they were in public, they still held eye contact and smiled at each other with a level of intimacy that was palpable from the other side of the table. 

It would be much easier if Juwon weren’t so nice, if he didn’t smile so genuinely at them, and didn’t treat Seonghwa so well. If he weren’t so nice, Hongjoong would have an actual reason to dislike him; alas, the only reason he had now was his jealousy and his longing for someone he had dreamed about for years but never dared to reach out and touch. 

If only it were anyone else holding Juwon’s hand under the table, it would be a different story. 

If only.  

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at him when their eyes met, a concerned frown on his face again, and Hongjoong could only hope that the smile he gave in response was reassuring enough to fool Seonghwa of all people. He didn’t know if he succeeded, the only thing he knew was that Juwon was here to stay, and he had to get his act together if he didn’t want to jeopardize everything that he had worked so hard for and given up so much for. He had to distance himself from his feelings if he didn’t want to lose one of the most important people in his life. 

Hongjoong could be strong. 

After all, maybe this was his sign to finally move on.