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It got tiring, relentlessly and achingly so. From dissecting the basic structural anatomy of beats to creating and craving movement into something precise enough to call it a choreography. They still endured it. The endless hours under fluorescent lights, the mirror that showed every movement they mastered.
Keonho is the closest to him in the system. He doesn’t question Seonghyeon. He follows him easily, almost automatically. He has spent so so much time with him that he already knows how Seonghyeon moves and how he thinks during practices. So he doesn’t need to be told much. By staying within that pattern, Keonho remains certain of his place. He knows when Seonghyeon’s attention will shift toward him. He knows that even mistakes keep that attention on him instead of taking it away.
Even when Seonghyeon stands as the center of the group of five, not by positioning but his presence alone that demands attention, that is where his natural “swag” comes from, not from trying to stand out, but from knowing he already does. So Keonho brings precision and responsiveness in the group. He adapts quickly and fills in any gaps without needing much direction. His strength is consistency because he keeps the structure tight and reliable. There is just some slight unpredictability in the way he moves, a kind of quirkiness that makes his dancing stand out even when he is following the same choreography as everyone else. So while others may focus on hitting every move exactly the same way each time, Keonho adds variation within it. He keeps the choreography alive and makes it feel less like repetition and more like something that is happening in the moment. That’s what makes Seonghyeon envious, because he knows how much effort his own control takes. He knows how calculated every detail of his is unlike Keonho’s.
All five of them bring something special to the group. Together, they create something complete, where each part supports the other without tearing an overall image.
Martin stands out too. Even his physique. He is tall enough to stand out without trying, his presence easy and relaxed rather than controlled like Seonghyeon’s or reactive like Keonho’s. He's been a trainee longer than all of them, and he naturally holds his image as the leader, which gives him confidence that doesn't need to prove itself. Not really strict or rigid. He knows the system, understands how things work, and moves within it without looking pressured by it. As a rapper and producer, his approach to music is not limited to just performing what is given to him. He understands the structure from the inside, how beats are built, how flow sits on top of them. Personality-wise, he sits somewhere in between. He can be social when he wants to be, joking around, keeping things light, making the atmosphere easier for everyone else. But he also pulls back just as easily, observing more than speaking, choosing when to involve himself instead of always being present.
As a leader, he does not just guide the group. He watches over them, and that includes Seonghyeon in a way that is not obvious at all. Martin is one of the few who notice the strain behind him. He catches the small signs and steps in when needed. Because he never makes it obvious, it happens at the right moment every time. When practice drags on too long, Martin is the one who puts it to rest, clapping once, changing the order, even saying something to move things forward before it turns into frustration. When Seonghyeon pauses or doesn’t know what to say during interviews, Martin fills the space without looking like he's stepping in, keeping everything steady so the pressure doesn't settle too heavily on him. He never looks at Seonghyeon when he does it, never draws attention to it, so it passes as nothing, maybe just timing or leadership, but it’s not random. Unlike Keonho, who stays close by following and adjusting himself, Martin stays beside him, steady enough to take some of that weight without asking for it or making it known.
—
Everything had been running smoothly since their debut, at least that’s what it looked like from the outside. Their second comeback came together without any real complications. Greengreen was something they had built themselves, with time and effort put into every beat, every transition, every formation. You could call it progress, or even stability, because the work showed. The group felt more defined, more certain in what they were doing.
But within that, something else started to take form, something that was hard to distinguish from normal. There in a way that was easy to overlook if no one paid attention. It had nothing to do with the group dynamic overall, just Keonho and Martin, in their own ways, began to change somehow. Maybe only to Seonghyeon.
It was the tone of their jokes that changed, not drastic, just enough to notice, because what used to pass as light teasing started carrying more intent behind it and more often than not, it landed on Seonghyeon. You could say it was harmless. Just the way people get comfortable around each other. Just a way of easing tension after their long practices.
But within that, it got under Seonghyeon’s skin much more. Maybe because he never takes things too lightly. Maybe because he reacts to it straight away. Which you could call a habit or even a weakness because he never really lets things slide and instead of ignoring things, he answers every single time as if he has to set it straight immediately.
So when Keonho starts joking around more than usual and not in a light way, but in a way where he drags it out and repeats Seonghyeon’s words back to him, twists them slightly and adds that tone that sounds playful, but is clearly pushing it, Seonghyeon doesn’t stay quiet and he doesn’t brush it off at all. He turns to him right away and talks back just as fast, corrects him while also throwing something back at him, pushing back with his own remarks, which only makes the whole thing louder, intensifies their exchange instead of ending it.
And Keonho becomes aware of that very quickly. So instead of holding back, he leans into it further. You could say, he almost feeds off of it. Seonghyeon's reaction gives him some kind of thrill. That’s why he continues and adds more, prolongs it, keeps talking just to maintain his response.
Then he brings Martin into it. As if inviting him to stir things up even more. He does engage. Just doesn’t drag it out. He adds just enough to tilt the situation and once he is involved it no longer feels one sided. So it turns into both of them immersing themselves in teasing and mocking in different ways, with Keonho pushing it openly and repeatedly, while Martin inserts himself at the right moments.
And Seonghyeon is fully aware of what is happening, even if he does not acknowledge it directly, because to him it no longer feels like random teasing or something accidental, and that is exactly what irritates him, more than the words themselves. He understands that it's deliberate, that they are expecting a reaction from him, and that awareness only makes it harder for him to disengage.
Instead of ignoring it, Seonghyeon responds again and again, and each time his tone sharpens slightly, his words becoming more direct, because he is trying to regain control over the situation and return it to something structured. He corrects them mid-sentence, cuts them off, and speaks over them when necessary, because to him, allowing it to continue without response would feel like losing his cool entirely. At the same time, he is aware that every response only sustains it, and that realization sits at the back of his mind while it is happening, making it more frustrating, because he knows he should step away and yet he does not. What actually happens is that the more he tries to shut it down the more it builds, and the more he reacts, the more they continue, until it turns into a cycle where none of them step out of it. Seonghyeon remains at the center, not by intention but because both of them keep drawing his attention toward them, and he continues to give it without pulling away.
—
During one of the comeback interviews, it comes up before anything even starts. The interviewer laughs lightly and mentions it like it is already known, saying that Seonghyeon seems a bit moody and quick to react compared to the rest, especially when the members tease him. It is said casually, almost jokingly, but it lands immediately because it is not entirely wrong.
He straightens and answers right away, expression kept in place, saying it is not like that and that they are exaggerating. Then the interviewer smiles and adds onto it, calling him “Eomgrumpy” and “Eomtemper” in a playful tone, clearly referencing the way his name constantly gets altered into variations like Eomma or Eompunni, but now obviously directed toward his personality trait that got viral recently. The room reacts almost instantly upon hearing it, because it sounds ridiculous enough to be amusing yet accurate enough to make something out of it. Seonghyeon doesn't laugh. He exhales softly through his nose and gives a slight shake of his head, as if he is already tired of it, attempting to maintain that same composed image even as it begins to slip.
And then the video starts. The interviewer brings up the video of a fan meeting. Seonghyeon on the screen feels noticeably different, more relaxed in posture, leaning slightly forward and speaking in a softer way that is clearly meant to engage with fans and hold their attention. You could describe it as confident or even calculated in a way that works in that setting, but when it is played back in front of the group it carries a different effect, one that sits somewhere between amusing and slightly uncomfortable.
Juhoon turns his head away with a restrained smile, as though he cannot bring himself to watch it directly. James presses his lips together and lowers his gaze, his shoulders subtly shaking as he tries to hold back his reaction and even though no one openly says anything, the sense of secondhand embarrassment is present enough to be felt. Seonghyeon notices all of it while maintaining the same outward composure, trying to at least. Even if internally it creates a kind of tension of his awareness, of how he looks and how he is being perceived. Even if his expression stays close to neutral, there are still small cracks in it that are harder to control, like the way he winces slightly out of cringing at himself, or lifts his hand to cover part of his face for a second, as if that could block it out, or the way he shifts in his seat, adjusting his posture more than necessary just to release some of that built up tension.
Martin is the one who snaps him out of it. “Nowadays he’s been acting like this. Seonghyeonie got even more cool.”and then he follows it up by imitating him outright, matching the posture and the tone with just enough exaggeration to make it unmistakably a mocking gesture. There is a hint of amusement in it, but underneath it carries something sharper, something that does not feel entirely like a joke. And it works immediately, because whatever quiet restraint was left in the room breaks, the reaction spreading more openly this time.
Of course the maknae does not hesitate to follow through, laughing and adding his own version, looser and more dramatic, stretching the movements and repeating them in a way that pushes it even further. He laughs and turns toward Seonghyeon like he has been waiting for that exact opening, repeating the same idea but taking it further, “Yeah, hyung has been doing that a lot lately, like he is trying way too hard.” Then he copies the movements again, dragging the tone until it becomes almost ridiculous. It overlaps with Martin’s version but does not match it exactly, like he is trying to top it rather than just follow it.
Seonghyeon is of course pulled out of whatever internal discomfort has bothered him before and placed right back into the center of attention once again, where he reacts the only way he knows how, turning toward them without pause and talking back instantly, telling them to stop and that they are overdoing it, trying to regain control over how the situation is unfolding while still holding onto that composed front.
It’s doesn’t end right away. When he turns to Keonho and tells him to stop, Martin adds something else that forces him to respond again, and when he tries to dismiss Martin’s comment, Keonho jumps back in with another remark, louder, more drawn out, making sure the focus does not leave him for too long. And for a moment it feels like both of them are playing off each other more than anything else, throwing comments in one after another, each adding something new, each trying to get a bigger reaction out of the same thing, and Seonghyeon is right in the middle of it, with their focus shifting back and forth but always returning to him. Neither of them are saying things for the sake of laughs and jokes anymore. It’s almost too obvious what they are doing. Competing.
Eventually the interviewer steps in and eases it, laughing it off and moving the conversation forward, bringing the focus back to the comeback and the group as a whole, and outwardly everything resets. The others follow along, the tone smoothes out, and it should end there. But it doesn’t really, because even as the conversation continues, both Keonho and Martin still look at him, not constantly, but often enough that it feels intentional, like they are still waiting for something, still expecting another reaction even when nothing is being said. And Seonghyeon notices it every time, because now he is more aware of it than before. Though he keeps his posture straight, internally it feels ridiculous, because the situation has already passed and yet it has not actually ended, and the way their attention lingers on him makes it feel drawn out in a way that should not.
The more he thinks about it, the more it irritates him. It does not feel like a joke anymore, not fully, not when it continues even after there is no reason for it to.
—
The next day moves quickly, filled with schedules and a live broadcast where they promote the new album, and for the most part everything looks normal again. By the time they finish their stage at Music Bank and step off, the energy shifts again, not loudly but in a way that feels contained, because the adrenaline from performing has not fully worn off yet and everything feels a little more intimate.
They are allowed to rest after finishing a busy schedule. So they veer toward the less crowded wing, toward the restroom area to regroup, away from cameras and staff for a moment. Each of them grounding themselves, reaching for bottles and taking deep breaths.
Seonghyeon goes into the shared cabin first. He reaches the sink and rests his hands against the counter, looking at his reflection, adjusting his hair slightly. Then ducking into one of the stalls to splash water on his face, trying to shake the post-performance haze.
It's the sound of a door creaking that startles him.
Keonho walks in behind him. leaning against the counter beside him, watching him through the mirror for a second before stepping in even closer. And Seonghyeon doesn’t have any time to react, because then Keonho is already bringing himself closer to Seonghyeon's side, voice dropping as he murmurs near his ear, low and quiet enough that it doesn’t carry across the room. “Hyung… you really switch up when fans are in front of you.”
By the time Seonghyeon does turn around to talk back, Keonho is crowding him, his broad frame blocking the exit. “Keonho, what- get out, there are other stalls.” Seonghyeon whispered, voice pitching high with alarm. His back pressed against the cool tile, hands coming up instinctively to push at his chest.
“Relax, pretty. Just need a minute with you,” Keonho's breath was hot against Seonghyeon's ear. Pulling back, there was a smirk plastered on his face.
Seonghyeon’s hands stay there for a second, pressed against Keonho’s chest, not pushing hard enough to force distance but enough to show resistance, his brows drawn together as he looks up at him with clear irritation.
“Quit joking around, Keonho,” he mutters under his breath, trying to keep his voice neutral, but it comes out shaken.
Keonho doesn’t move. If anything, the smirk deepens like he expected exactly this reaction, like this was the point of getting this close in the first place. “Does it look like I’m joking?” he asks, voice dropping low enough to keep it between them, his gaze steady on Seonghyeon in a way that does not match the darkness of his words. He tilts his head slightly, like he's studying him, then adds, almost casually, but not really, “You get like this so fast… One comment and you’re already flustered.”
Seonghyeon’s breath catches in a way he cannot fully control, not loud, just enough to disrupt the steady composure he has been forcing himself to maintain, and his body goes tense almost immediately as Keonho remains close, far too close for it to be brushed off as casual or accidental. At his lack of response Keonho’s hand comes up and settles at his waist, light enough that it could almost be ignored at first. It doesn’t stay that way, because within seconds it presses more firmly, holding him in place in a way that makes the intention impossible to misread.
Seonghyeon tries to speak, tries to push the moment back into something manageable, but the words don’t come out as smoothly as he intends, because the situation has already shifted beyond what he’s used to controlling, beyond something he can dismiss with a quick response or a sharper tone. “Keonho…” he says, and the lack of steadiness in his voice only frustrates him more.
This is not the same teasing from before, not the same mocking that could be thrown back and forth and then dropped when needed, because here there is no distance, no audience to break it, no structure to fall back into, and the fact that it’s happening in a place where anyone could walk in at any moment only makes it more tense. “You need to stop,” he says after a moment, voice firmer now, trying to regain some control over how this is unfolding, even as his hands press firmer against Keonho’s chest, this time actually trying to create space instead of just resisting. The closeness was starting to feel suffocating and the adrenaline was amplifying every sensation until he was truly starting to feel trapped and exposed.
The door to the hallway of the main restroom swung open, footsteps echoing. Martin's voice cut through the haze, casual but edged with something sharper. “Hey, guys? You in here? The manager's asking where everyone is.” He pushed into the adjacent stall area, pretending to check his phone, but his eyes darted toward the occupied stall, catching the muffled sounds, the subtle shift of shadows under the door. For a second no one answers him directly, only the faint sound of movement from inside, something shifting, fabric brushing, a pause that feels just a little too long to be nothing. “Seonghyeon?” he calls again.
Inside, Keonho paused, hand stilling on Seonghyeons waist, a glare shooting toward the door, but he didn't pull away fully.
“Y-yeah, fine! Just... Give me a sec.” Seonghyeon called out, voice shaken despite the effort to sound casual. For a moment he just stood there, tense, his back still pressed against the cold tile, his hands hovering between pushing Keonho away and not knowing how to move without making it worse, his thoughts running faster than he could organize them. This was wrong in too many ways at once, wrong because of where they were, wrong because of who was outside, wrong because it had gone further than a joke and had not stopped when it should have, and that realization sat heavily in his chest, making it harder to breathe evenly, harder to act like he still had control over the situation.
“Move,” he whispered to Keonho with more urgency, this time there was no attempt to sound casual or dismissive. He meant it fully, his hands pressing firmer against Keonho’s chest as he tried to push him back, needing space, needing distance, needing the moment to end before it could spiral into something he couldn’t walk away from cleanly. His thoughts kept circling the same point that someone was outside and this could not be happening here.
Then Keonho finally moved. His hand slid from Seonghyeon’s waist without urgency, lingering for a brief second before dropping, even when he stepped aside, not fully stepping away, just enough to clear the path, his body still close, still within reach, as if he was allowing an exit rather than creating it.
Seonghyeon stepped forward immediately the moment there was space, almost too fast, like he needed to get out before Keonho changed his mind, his shoulder brushing past him in a way that made him flinch slightly. His hand reached for the doorknob, fingers not as steady as he wanted them to be and for a brief second he just stood there, staring at the door instead of opening it.
Because now it hit him. Martin was right outside.
He swallowed, his grip tightening slightly on the knob as his mind ran through it too quickly, the image of Martin standing there, watching, connecting things, noticing details. There was this instinctive hesitation that Seonghyeon could not ignore, a brief but strong urge to stay where he was just a second longer, to delay it, to avoid stepping into that. And then, just as quickly as that thought builds, it starts to feel excessive. Like he is making it bigger than it actually is. So he lets out a quiet scoff, more at himself than anything else.
The door swings open in one clean motion, and Seonghyeon steps out. Martin is right there.
Leaning on the wall, phone still in his hand but clearly forgotten, his attention snapping up the second Seonghyeon appears, and for a brief moment he just looks at him, taking him in in a way that feels a little too focused to be casual.
“You took your time,” Martin says finally, and it does sound like something less like a joke, more like an observation he is choosing not to push yet.
Seonghyeon shrugs slightly as if it is nothing, as if the last few minutes did not happen in a way that left him unsettled. Then rolls his eyes slightly and forces out a scoff as if to dismiss it, “Relax, it’s a restroom.”
“Didn’t sound like you were just fixing your hair,” Martin adds, and his eyes don’t leave Seonghyeon, not even for a second. That causes Seonghyeon’s jaw to tighten, irritation flickering up immediately, because of course he’s not going to just leave it alone. It’s Martin after all. Once he notices something unusual he becomes fixated on it, maybe to unravel whatever it is underneath.
“You’re annoying,” Seonghyeon mutters, looking away for a second, trying to break that eye contact because it feels too focused, like Martin is trying to read more out of him than he’s willing to give.
And then the stall door behind him opens. The sound alone is enough to change the entire atmosphere. Now it is no longer just Seonghyeon and Martin standing there, it is all three of them again, and the moment that had been contained is suddenly shared. Keonho steps out like nothing about the situation is unusual, like he has all the time in the world.
Seonghyeon feels aware. A feeling that does not arrive gradually, it lands all at once. He becomes conscious of being looked at from two sides at once.
It feels ridiculous. Genuinely ridiculous, in a way that almost tips into something absurd, because standing there between them, with one of them having just emerged from the same stall and the other present with a gaze that suggests he has registered more than he should have, the entire situation begins to take on a strange, almost surreal quality. Seonghyeon feels weird looking at the situation right now, as though he has been placed in the middle of something he did not agree to be a part of, placed at the center of an interaction that neither begins nor ends with him, yet revolves around him regardless.
He looks from Martin to Keonho and then back again, and the realization settles in fully, as something blunt and almost stupid in how obvious it feels.
They are both looking at him.
In that same focused way, in slightly different forms, one more contained and the other more open, yet both equally directed, and for a second Seonghyeon genuinely does not know what he is supposed to do with that. For a brief moment his mind turns inward, searching for something simple to anchor onto, some way to reduce it back to what it was supposed to be. Just teasing, just stupid jokes that got dragged out too far, yet even that feels insufficient now, because whatever this has turned into no longer feels like something he can easily dismiss.
It makes him want to laugh. Or leave. Probably leave. The longer he stays in that headspace the worse it feels and the more it spirals into something unnecessary. Yeah… I’m not doing this, he thinks to himself before turning to leave, without waiting for neither of them to speak. He feels their gazes on the back of his head and that alone makes him leave faster.
—
They wrap up their schedules, get changed, and by the time evening comes around they are seated together at a Korean BBQ place, the table crowded with plates and smoke rising steadily between them, it’s the kind of setting that usually brings everyone back into an easy rhythm. Someone suggests filming, someone else agrees, and just like that they are streaming a short vlog, laughing, talking over each other, flipping meat, playing into the camera like usual.
Seonghyeon keeps up with it. He smiles when he needs to, throws in comments at the right moments, leans into the usual dynamic the group shows. It is not until later, sometime in the afternoon, when things have quieted down and the schedule has thinned out, that the thought comes to him, not as a vague feeling but as something unavoidable.
It hits him mid-scroll, like his brain finally decides to clock it at the worst possible moment. He has to go back to the dorm. With them. In the same room. He tries to dismiss the earlier exchanges as not a big deal, but he can’t stop himself from recalling said moment. The more he thinks about it, the worse it gets, like his brain is actively trying to sabotage him by bringing up every single detail he was trying not to focus on earlier. The way Keonho cornered him and didn’t move right away. The way Martin looked at him after. The way both of them were just… staring. What is he even supposed to do with that? Like, what is the plan here?
Act normal. Obviously. But that feels fake already, and he knows it. Ignore it. Sure. That sounds good in theory, except he knows both of them might not sit there like nothing happened. There’s obviously going to be tension. “Great,” he sighs, dropping his head and leaning back slightly, staring at everyone else moving around and grabbing their things, preparing to leave for the shared dorm. Seonghyeon, on the other hand, is trying to mentally prepare himself for something he absolutely does not want to deal with. He zones out for a moment before standing up and catching up with the rest.
—
Seonghyeon decides very quickly that he is not going to think about it anymore, not now, not here, not when they are all back in the dorm and trying to settle into something normal, because the moment he lets his mind go back to it, everything becomes complicated again, and he is already tired of how heavy it felt earlier. So he forces himself into it, into the routine, into the noise of the others talking about watching something, into the casual suggestion of a movie that turns into everyone half-agreeing without much thought behind it.
“I’ll make ramyeon,” he says before anyone else can volunteer, not because he really wants to, but because it gives him something to do, something to focus on that isn’t them.
The kitchen is small, familiar, easy to move in. Seonghyeon moves through it with a kind of forced steadiness, keeping his attention fixed on the small, familiar tasks in front of him, because routine offers something stable to hold onto, something that does not require him to think beyond what is necessary. He fills the pot and sets it on the stove, opens packets, keeps his hands busy so his mind doesn’t wander. The sounds behind him blur into background noise, the TV turning on, voices overlapping, something starts playing on the screen. Relaxation seeps deep into his bones, there is something about repetition that dulls the edges of thought, something about doing things step by step that keeps his mind contained within those actions.
He reaches for the cabinet above to take out the seasoning, however the tip of his fingers barely manage to brush against the packet. He adjusts his stance, lifting his arm higher, even standing on his toes and stretching a bit more, trying again, but it still does not come easily, his height not enough to make it convenient or possible. He doesn’t stop trying for a while. Shifting on his feet and reaching constantly, only to graze the object, failing to grab it.
That’s when he feels the presence behind him. Someone is closing in without any announcement and before he can adjust, turn around or step aside, a long arm is reaching past him with ease, doing something so easily, when Seonghyeon was struggling with it seconds ago.
Martin. He does not make it seem like assistance offered out of necessity, he simply reaches and takes it as if difficulty had never existed when it came to him. And he's close.
Closer than he needs to be, closer than the situation requires, because there was space to do this differently, there was room to avoid stepping into him like that, yet Martin does not take that option, instead placing himself directly behind him, filling the space in a way that leaves no room for Seonghyeon to escape.
He gives the package to seonghyeon, but doesn't step away after that, doesn’t create distance the way he easily can, instead he stays there as if remaining that close is the most natural thing in the world, as if there is nothing unusual about standing directly behind him with barely any space left between. Martin adjusts slightly, not pulling away but settling in, his arm lowering past Seonghyeon’s side, settling briefly on his hip, far too unbothered, as if he has already decided that this level of closeness does not need permission.
“Careful,” he says quietly, tone casual, like nothing about this carries weight, and yet he does not move. There is a brief shift in height as he lowers himself just enough, his posture relaxing into it, and then Seonghyeon feels it, the slight pressure of his head resting against his shoulder, while his hand stays close to Seonghyeon’s hip, it’s the kind of contact that should feel intrusive yet is presented so naturally that it almost forces itself into normalcy.
Meanwhile Seonghyeon’s entire body goes still. His hand tightens slightly around the utensil he is holding, his focus fixed straight ahead as if looking anywhere else would make it worse, his heart starts picking up in a way that is way too noticeable for his liking, quick and uneven, completely out of proportion for what is technically such a small thing. It all seems insane to Seonghyeon. They have never done that. It’s weird. And it’s the fact that Martin is just standing there like it's normal, while Seonghyeon is short-circuiting over it.
“Sean.. You good?” Martin murmurs, almost like he is teasing, because there is an obvious grin in his voice.
“I’m fine,” he says, and the words come out a little too quickly, a little too flat, like he is trying to shut the moment down. Then he shifts, angling his body just enough so that Martin’s head no longer rests as comfortably against his shoulder, creating a small amount of distance without making it obvious that he is pulling away. But it’s still not enough to remove him entirely.
“You’re gonna burn it,” Seonghyeon can hear that faint smile, the kind that makes it obvious this is not about the food at all.
“I’m not.”
He tightens his grip on the chopsticks and stirs the noodles, needing something to occupy his hands so he doesn’t have to think about the fact that Martin is still right there, still close enough that the space between them feels nonexistent.
Seonghyeon steps in whatever tiny bit of space he has left in front, without burning himself, still managing to create that bit of distance, but the feeling does not leave with it, because the difference had already settled into him the moment Martin was that close. It is annoyingly hard to shake off, sitting somewhere in the back of his mind while he keeps stirring the pot like that is the only thing that matters.
He is not small, he knows that, yet next to Martin it doesn’t quite feel that way. There is something about how easily Martin leaned over him, how natural it looked for him to just fit into that space without adjusting at all, while Seonghyeon had been the one stretching, the one adjusting, the one reacting. It throws him off more than he wants to admit, because it makes him aware of himself in a way he usually is not.
And it’s worse because Martin acted like it meant nothing. Like standing that close, reaching around him and resting against him, all of that was just normal, something that didn’t need to be acknowledged or questioned. Meanwhile Seonghyeon had gone completely still over it, body reacting before he could even think it through.
Then Martin is stepping away just like that. Leaving him alone with his inner turmoil. Seonghyeon stays where he is for a moment longer than necessary, finishing up the ramyeon with movements that are just a bit too precise, because he needs that extra second to reset himself, before he has to face anyone again.
He carries the pot out to the low table where the others are already gathered, sprawled out across the floor in that loose, messy way they always are, the TV still running, speaking over each other, everything feeling normal in a way that almost clashes with what just happened.
He sets the pot down, reaches for the bowls, starts serving without really looking up at first, keeping his focus on something simple again.
He doesn’t even have the time to look up properly when he feels Keonho's eyes digging holes in his head. And it is not in the way when someone glances over because food just got brought out, but rather properly watching, attention fixed in a way that is just a bit too direct to ignore.
Seonghyeon makes eye contact with him. Because maybe if he did that, Keonho would look away. But his gaze doesn’t shift away at all. There is something in it that feels… Aware. Not openly confrontational, but sharp enough that it makes Seonghyeon pause for half a second before he looks away again, breaking the tension just like that. He looks back down, continuing to serve the food like nothing is off, passing bowls out, making sure everyone gets their portion, keeping his movements steady even though his focus is not entirely there anymore.
—
They finish eating without much happening on the surface, and someone eventually lowers the lights until the room is left with nothing but the dim glow of the screen. They all settle into more comfortable positions on the floor, shoulders brushing, knees bumping.
Seonghyeon lets himself sink, stretching his legs before folding them again, trying to relax into the moment and let the movie take his attention, because he does not want to keep replaying everything that already feels unnecessarily complicated.
Keonho drops down beside him with a kind of intention that immediately takes up space, his side pressing against Seonghyeon’s, and before Seonghyeon can lean away, Keonho’s arm comes up and settles across his shoulders with a weight that is far too grounded to be accidental.
It does not stop there either. Keonho leans in further to tilt Seonghyeon off balance just a little, enough to pull him closer without making it look like a direct action, and Seonghyeon feels it instantly in the way his posture has to compensate, in the way he ends up angled toward him without choosing it, his shoulder pressing more firmly against Keonho’s chest as the space between them disappears completely.
From the outside, it blends in. It looks like casual proximity, the kind that happens when people are crowded together watching something.
Seonghyeon's breath catches when Keonho leans even closer. He sways just that fraction, his body betraying him by leaning into the solid warmth of Keonho's chest. He tells himself it's the crowd pressing in from all sides, the murmur of voices and distant laughter masking any real intent. But Keonho's hand finds his lower back then, fingers splaying wide. Seonghyeon's face burns, his pulse thudding in his ears louder than the surrounding noise. He stiffens, shoulder digging back against Keonho's chest in an attempted push, trying to reclaim that lost space. "Keonho, cut it out,” he hisses under his breath, eyes darting to see if anyone notices.
Keonho doesn't pull back. Instead, he tilts his head, nose grazing Seonghyeon's temple as if savoring the tension coiling in him. "Still got your walls up, I see," the whisper is intimate, slipping past his defenses.
Seonghyeon clenches his jaw, thighs pressing together instinctively against the unwelcome stir low in his gut. His protest dies on his lips as Keonho's hand slides lower, palm flattening against the curve of his hip before dipping to the inside of his thigh. Fingers curl in and squeeze the muscle there, thumb pressing into the sensitive flesh with firm pressure that pins his leg in place against Keonho's.
Then his grip tightens and he shifts his stance wider, forcing Seonghyeon’s thighs apart. No one glances their way thankfully. But Seonghyeon feels every inch of it, the heat blooming even though his mind still fights against it, even when Keonho’s fingers are starting to move upwards, almost touching his crotch area.
“Your thighs are tensing up so nice for me,” Keonho breathes against his ear.
Seonghyeon's breath hitches yet again, a flush creeping down his neck as he grabs at Keonho's wrist, trying to pry it away without drawing eyes. "Stop- someone's gonna see,” he mutters urgently, twisting his hips in a futile attempt to create distance, but the movement only grinds his thigh firmer into Keonho's palm. His cock twitches traitorously, betraying him. He bites his lip hard, stifling a gasp, thighs quivering under the unyielding grip that spreads him just enough to trap the growing erection close against Keonho's hand.
Fuck, no- not here, Seonghyeon thinks, pulse hammering in his ears as he shoves weakly at Keonho's arm again. He needs out, away from this torment, back to the room they share, while the two are hopefully distracted by the movie playing, somewhere he can lock the door or jerk off in secret to kill the ache.
“I- uh- I gotta go. I’m tired and we have to get up early tomorrow,” his voice stammers in a room, earning just a single glance from Juhoon and a nod from James. That’s it, he thinks. Because right next to him Keonho doesn’t move. Across from him, Martin doesn’t either. But there’s this split second where neither of them looks at Seonghyeon first. They look at each other. The kind of glance that says they both clocked the same thing at the same time. Then they look at him. And yeah. That excuse is not landing.
Keonho's hand stays where it was. At the seam right below his crotch, feeling the rigid outline throb under the touch. "Room, huh?" he murmurs, hot breath ghosting Seonghyeon's jaw as his grip slides up an inch, palming. "Go on then, I'll follow in a minute.“
Seonghyeon's knees nearly buckle at the words. Still, he doesn’t put in the effort to process the actual words. But stands up to get away, as fast as he can. stumbling a step through the bodies splayed on the floor, toward the exit. His cock stains against his jeans. The promise of Keonho's pursuit twisting dread and hunger in his gut. He doesn’t know what's next to come, and doesn’t want to think about it, when heat is pooling low in his gut.
—
Seonghyeon stormed off to the shared room, his face flushed from whatever tension had been building during their hangout. He should ignore it. Whatever the hell keonho was trying to do. He was fucking with him. Yes, it was weird. Yes, Seonghyeon wants to erase the entire day out of his life. He tries to make sense of it, even lying to himself to feel somewhat relieved. Keonho was probably getting him riled up to mock him after. Yeah, that must have been it. Nothing serious, right?
Seonghyeon flops onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Just chill, think about anything else, he told himself, clenching his fists. But his dick throbbed insistently against his jeans, the ache growing unbearable. He shifts, trying to ignore it.
He laid for few minutes, breath uneven. But after a moment his hand betrays him, sliding down to his zipper. His fingers dipping inside to grip his hardening shaft through his boxers. A low groan escapes as he squeezes, precum already soaking the fabric. Desperation hit hard, he yanked his pants lower, freeing his cock, pulsing as he wrapped his palm around it and pumped once, twice, hips bucking up greedily.
The door creaked open right then and his body reacts before his mind can catch up, a sharp rush of embarrassment hitting all at once, heat rising fast and uncontrollably, his movements quick and unsteady as he tries to fix the situation, to cover, to regain some kind of control over what is happening, even though it already feels too late for that.
Keonho and Martin step in, freezing for a split second before their eyes lock on Seonghyeon's exposed lower half, slick and twitching in his fist.
“What the fuck!” Seonghyeon yelps, yanking his hand away and scrambling to cover up, his face burning crimson. He tugged his pants up clumsily, zipper catching on his shirt. “Get out! This isn't- shit, just leave!”
Keonho doesn’t move.
If anything, he steps in further. Like this is exactly what he expected to find. He chuckles darkly, kicking the door shut behind them, “Too late for that, hyung. We saw you bolt in here. Knew you needed company.” He sauntered closer, towering over the bed.
Seonghyeon’s thoughts scatter. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Not like this, not with both of them here, not with no space to recover, no way to brush it off or turn it into something lighter. He knows they’re not going to let it go. Because the look on Keonho’s face already says enough. And Martin… Martin is still watching him like he’s waiting for him to unravel completely.
Then they’re moving. Inching closer, until they’re right at the bed. Looking down at Seonghyeon.
“Looks like you're desperate enough to do it in our room, Sean. Why fight? Let us help,” Martin reaches out, but Seonghyeon swats his hand away almost instantly, scooting back against the headboard.
“No way I'm not- guys, seriously, fuck off,” Seonghyeon's voice cracks, but his cock betrays him once again, still rock-hard, tenting his half-zipped jeans obscenely. His breathing comes in short pants, eyes darting between them, a mix of panic and unwanted heat.
Keonho grabs Seonghyeon's wrist before he could zip up fully, pinning it down. “Bullshit,“ he leans in, mouth coming down right beside his ear, hot breath on Seonghyeon's neck, while Martin boldly palms his bulge, rubbing the shaft through the denim.
Seonghyeon gasps, twisting away, “Stop- ah, fuck, don't.” But his hips jerk involuntarily into Martin's touch, a whimper slipping out.
It all happens too quickly for his mind to sort through properly, because one second he is still trying to recover from being seen, still caught in that sharp, suffocating embarrassment, and the next there is contact again, real and undeniable, and it pulls him straight out of whatever fragile control he was trying to piece together.
“That's it,” Martin growls, unzipping Seonghyeon’s half zipped pants roughly and fishing out the throbbing length. He strokes it firm and slow, thumb circling the slick head. Keonho captures Seonghyeon's mouth in a bruising kiss, tongue forcing past reluctant lips, swallowing his protests.
And he does not register it as two separate actions at first. Because he doesn’t pull away immediately. He should. He knows he should. That instinct is there, clear and immediate, yet his body does not follow through the way it normally would, caught somewhere between reacting and processing, resisting and understanding what is even happening in the first place.
Seonghyeon shoves at Keonho's chest weakly, “N-no, wait guys, please...” His words dissolve into a moan as Martin's hand tightens around his cock.
Keonho breaks the kiss, grinning at Seonghyeon's dazed expression, “Tell us to stop if you really mean it.”
Maybe he should’ve put an end to it just like that. But he can’t seem to say it. Which only makes everything worse, because now, on top of everything else, he has to deal with the fact that he did not react the way he expected himself to, that there was that moment, however brief, where he allowed it to happen without stopping it.
And before he knows it, his thighs are being spread wide. He doesn’t know what to do. Too fast, too close, too much happening without space to react properly, without the distance he needs to think clearly, and yet even as it forms, it does not settle the way it should, does not create the immediate rejection he expects from himself.
Keonho’s fingers dig into his soft flesh, exposing him fully to their gazes. Seonghyeon's face burns crimson, heart pounding as he feels the cool air hit his most private spots, their eyes raking over him like he's some obscene display.
“Hyung you’re so pretty down here too,” Keonho growls, his voice thick with lust, thumb brushing teasingly close to Seonghyeon's entrance. Heat rises fast, uncomfortable, overwhelming, not just from embarrassment anymore but from the intensity of it.
“K-keonho,” he manages, but it comes out pathetic.
Martin goes to strip Seonghyeon of his shirt. Seonghyeon's hands tense at his sides, fingers curling slightly like he is about to push them away, to create space, to reestablish something normal, but he hesitates, just for a second too long, and that hesitation is enough to throw him off more than anything else. His lean frame is dangled between their bodies, they’re dwarfing him. Seonghyeon thrashes weakly, but numbness is already crippling in his mind from the overload, cock still rock hard and leaking despite the screams in his mind to fight it, to not give in. But his body is already giving up.
This is wrong, Seonghyeon's mind screams, panic twisting in his gut as Keonho's bigger frame looms over him, handling his legs like they weigh nothing. He feels their stares, and doesn’t know what to do with it. Because it’s weird, wrong. And realization is there, they probably talked about this. About him.
Martin towers above, his massive hand stroking Seonghyeon's shaft with slow, deliberate pumps, thumb circling the slick head. "Fuck, he's so small compared to us,” Martin murmurs, leaning down to drag his tongue flat along the side of Seonghyeon's neck, savoring the salty taste. His huge palms move to rest beside Keonho's, engulfing Seonghyeon's cheeks, kneading roughly, "Look at these thighs, so smooth. Bet I’d bruise 'em prettier than you, Keonho."
Keonho shoved Martin aside with a shoulder check. The bed creaking under their weight. "Dream on." He removed Seonghyeon's shirt, and latched onto his nipple, teeth grazing the bud before sucking it swollen and red. His free hand roamed, tracing every ridge of Seonghyeon's abs, fingers digging into hipbones.
Seonghyeon gasps, sensation flooding his nerves even as numbness spreads from his fingertips, body going slack under the assault. They're too big... Too rough... Planning his ruin. His mind runs, flashing to their earlier whispers, but desperation claws up, hole clenching empty, cock throbbing untouched. "I won't... ahh!" his protest dissolves into a whine as Martin spreads his legs wider. The position leaves Seonghyeon utterly vulnerable, ass lifted slightly off the surface.
But before he does anything, keonho moves. He dips his head, hot breath fanning Seonghyeon's exposed rim before his tongue lashes out, licking a bold stripe over the skin. pressing the tip inside just enough to make Seonghyeon cry out.
It hits him in that moment, Keonho is interrupting rather than joining in, like he is redirecting the moment instead of following it, and the shift is so immediate that Seonghyeon actually feels it, the way his attention gets pulled from one to the other without him choosing it.
Then it’s Martin who probes his rim with his fingers, slow and teasing. He spits directly onto the entrance, rubbing it in with two thick fingers before pushing one inside, crooking it to hit that spot that makes Seonghyeon arch and sob. Seonghyeon's thoughts fracture. And it’s dry and relentless, scissoring to stretch the ring. Martin curls deep, hammering the prostate with brutal precision, making Seonghyeon's vision white out, city lights blurring as his body arches involuntarily.
"Move,” Keonho snarled, batting Martin's hand away to claim the spot. He spat on his palm, slicking two fingers before shoving them in alongside, the burn ripping a quiet scream from Seonghyeon's throat. Their competition amps up, Keonho's arm pistoning fast, Martin's other hand now jerking Seonghyeon's cock in deep strokes, twisting the head to wring out more slick. "Look at him numb out, he stopped fighting it."
Too much attention, too many hands everywhere, claiming pieces of him like he belongs to them. Seonghyeon claws at the leather, numb hands flopping uselessly, his hips buck up greedily, chasing the fullness invading his guts, fingers deep enough to hit all the right spots.
His legs shake in their hold, cock throbbing. Desperation is hitting peak, muscles spasming, balls tight, every slap of their hands on his skin echoing like slaps to his resistance... His body needs it... Fuck, ruin me already, the traitorous thought flickered, drowned by grunts. They groped everywhere, Keonho pinching Seonghyeon's thighs till purple blooms rose, Martin slapping his balls lightly to jolt him, praises filthy and possessive.
"Perfect boy," Martin growls, leaning to bite his collarbone. Keonho drags his tongue up Seonghyeon's side, nipping at his ribs. Their bodies press in, sandwiching him, roughness peaking as fingers twist deeper, racing to shatter him in the open of the shared room.
Seonghyeon is shaking. There is heat pooling deep in his gut, close to releasing. he’s stuck in the middle of something that has its own rhythm, its own push and pull that he doesn’t control.
Keonho notices first, pulling out his fingers, smirking as he shoves Martin’s shoulder to claim the spot between Seonghyeon’s legs. He hauls the smaller man’s ankles over his shoulders, folding him nearly in half. Seonghyeon’s breath hitches, thighs trembling in the air, hole clenching on emptiness after the fingers vanish. And god, why does he ache like this, he feels empty, needy.
Keonho doesn’t rush. He straightens up slightly, hands gripping his own waistband, yanking down his pants and boxers in one slow drag. His thick cock springs free, heavy, veined shaft curving upward. He is already leaking from the slit. It slaps against his abs before he wraps his own hand against the shaft, pumping once, twice, letting Seonghyeon’s wide eyes lock in on the sheer size. His thoughts don’t form properly, they blur at the edges, slipping before he can hold onto them, because there is too much happening all at once. But it still scares him, he knows what’s about to happen, wants it, but can’t help the turmoil in the back of his mind. His breathing turns uneven again.
Martin shifts closer from the side, not yielding fully, his palm slides up Seonghyeon’s inner thigh, kneading the soft flesh there, thumb circling the crease where leg meets groin. He leans in, mouth latching onto the smaller man’s hipbone, sucking a bruise into the skin while his other hand traces the dip of Seonghyeon’s navel, worshipping the taut plane of his stomach with strokes, appreciating every flex.
Keonho lines up, blunt head nudging Seonghyeon’s puffy rim, slick coating the tip as he presses forward, inch by agonizing inch. “F-fuck!” Seonghyeon whisper-yells. The stretch burns immediately, ring yielding but protesting, muscles spasming around the invading thickness. He gasps sharp, back bowing off the bed, heels digging into Keonho’s back. It hurts, fuck. He's splitting him open, too thick, like Keonho is reshaping his insides, but that burn twists into heat. Tears prick his eyes, hands fisting the sheets, body locked as half of the length sinks in, walls fluttering helplessly.
Keonho pauses there, grinding shallow circles, letting the girth settle, his free hand splaying over Seonghyeon’s abdomen, feeling the first hint of distension, the subtle ridge forming under the skin. “Look at that,” he mutters low, thumb pressing at the faint bulge, eyes darkening with hunger. He rocks deeper, watching the outline swell thicker, cockhead carving a path visible through the flesh, the navel dipping inward then tenting out as more inches disappear.
One huge hand joins Keonho’s on the abdomen, martin’s palm flattening to feel the pulse of shaft beneath, tracing the bulge’s shape with small strokes. Seonghyeon whimpers, overwhelmed, the dual attention amplifying every sensation, the pain reciting into fullness.
Fully in now, Keonho’s hips snap flush, his pace builds, thrusting sharper, the slow drags turning punishing, pulling out until just the head tugs the rim, then slamming home, bulge inflating each time. His grip tightens on Seonghyeon’s thighs, pinning them wide, balls slapping wet against his as he chases the end. His hands roam, Keonho’s palm grinding the ridge, Martin’s fingers outlining it possessively, both fixated on how the smaller man’s frame warps around the girth.
Competition doesn’t die down. It subsides but it’s still there, and Seonghyeon doesn’t have the time to still think about it. All he knows is that it feels like being chosen. And fought over. And both feel really good at the moment.
His moans spill unchecked, high, broken whimpers fracturing into gasps, “ah! h-haa... too deep,” body jolting with every thrust. His eyes roll, vision blurring, nearly crossing.
“F-fuck, hyung, i’m close,” Keonho grunts, hips never once slowing down.
“That’s it, pretty,” Martin murmurs low against Seonghyeon’s ear, lone hand sliding to cup Seonghyeon’s jaw, thumb stroking the trembling lip, “breathe through it, yeah, just like that.” Martin’s other arm moves from his abdomen across Seonghyeon’s chest, holding him folded and secure as the thrusts hammer relentlessly.
Keonho snarls, sensing the peak, angles brutal to grind the head against that spot inside, once, twice, bulge peaking more. Seonghyeon arches, a wrecked sob tearing free. “A-ahh! Cumming- Fuuuck!” Ropes of cum erupt from his cock, splattering his own chest, abs, even chin in thick streaks, hole spasming around the invading shaft. His eyes cross fully for a beat, whites flashing, mouth slack with drool as waves crash, thighs shaking over Keonho’s shoulders.
Keonho doesn’t stop, fucking through it, drawing out the spasms until Seonghyeon’s moans pitch to oversensitive whines, “Nngh! S-slow down, too much- Ah!” cock twitching dry now, spent. Martin’s lips brush his temple, murmuring softer, “Good boy, you did perfect, took it all.”
Keonho grunts low, hips stuttering, then buries deep one last time, hot spurts flooding the wrecked boy. Panting, Keonho eases out with a pop, thick liquid dripping from the gaping hole, Seonghyeon’s rim fluttering ruined.
But Martin moves in, possessive hands hauling the limp body upright, flipping him onto all fours like a ragdoll. Seonghyeon collapses forward, elbows buckling, but Martin grips his hips, yanking ass high, arching the back into a deep curve, knees spread wide, chest to the mattress, face buried in the sheets.
“Stay just like that,” Martin rumbles quietly, spreading him to expose the leaking mess, cum spilling out. His cock, longer than Keonho’s but slimmer, prods the slick entrance, Keonho’s load easing the way.
Martin sinks in slow, inch after inch, bottoming out with a low groan, balls pressing flush. No bulge like before, but the depth spears straight to the gut, rearranging from within.
Seonghyeon moans loud, oversensitivity disappearing almost completely, cock hardening once more, ass pushing back despite the tremble. He can't think, he feels stuffed to the end.
Martin starts slow, grinding deep before plunging forward, slightly faster. He holds there, restrained utterly, then fucks with controlled power, long withdrawals followed by deep slams, hips flush against ass. He groans low, hands clamping Seonghyeon's hips to hold him steady, fucking so hard that it jolts the smaller man's entire frame.
Seonghyeon cries out, back bowing as the burn blooms into blinding pleasure-pain, stuffed fuller than ever. Sweat slicks his skin, every thrust and twist sending sparks up his spine.
Martin ruts into him without mercy at the same time Keonho leans down licking everywhere, teeth sinking into his shoulder.
Martin is chasing his own release inside his ruined hole. Seonghyeon comes again when martin hits his final thrust, plunging deep inside one last time. Hot floods of cum fill Seonghyeon in pulsing waves, overflowing down his balls as Seonghyeon trembles. Cum dripsdown his thighs as he collapses, spent and shattered beneath their weight. He doesn’t think, doesn’t recall or process what just happened, doesn’t have any time to, because he blanks out shortly after.