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1
The first time Yeosang leaves, well. Everyone knows this story.
The first time Yeosang leaves, it’s not because of Wooyoung. Not because it actually isn’t, but because it can’t be. Wooyoung isn’t the reason why Yeosang leaves Big Hit, because that would mean Yeosang is potentially throwing his life away for a boy, and. Well. He can’t do that. So Yeosang leaves and it isn’t because of Wooyoung and maybe if he says it enough times he’ll finally start to believe it.
No, Yeosang leaves Big Hit because he wants to debut. He knows he isn’t getting anywhere here, that there are more talented boys who sing better and dance better and are prettier than him here. He’s just another handsome face in a sea of handsome faces, so he can’t stay. Not if he wants to make anything of his life.
Even Wooyoung seems caught up in it all. He claims that Yeosang is his best friend but spends most of his time off galavanting with Big Hit’s Legendary Trainee Choi Yeonjun, and Yeosang knows how this ends. He knows he’s getting left behind, so he leaves first.
And even though he’s not leaving because of Wooyoung, it’s impossible to deny that he is leaving Wooyoung. No more late night convenience store trips, no more sneaking through the building to try and catch a glimpse of BTS, no more making eye contact in the mirrors as they spend hours learning choreographies together, sweat dripping down their faces, desperate for the chance to shine.
The trainees at KQ are nice. They don’t exactly welcome him in with open arms, but it’s a smaller company, and without the pressure that comes with Big Hit and the rise of BTS, Yeosang finds himself finally able to breathe a little bit. The other boys don’t quite know what to make of him, but that’s okay. He might never fit in, but maybe he’ll actually have a chance here.
Jongho arrives, and Yeosang thinks that’s that. They’ve got everyone they need— the mom, the dad, the puppy, the kitty, the low-tone rapper, the high-tone vocalist. Yeosang thinks he’ll settle just fine for being the pretty face who never speaks, and seven is a good number. Odd numbers make for more balanced choreographies, anyway.
And then Wooyoung shows up, and the rest of the members fold in around him like sunflowers turning to face the sun. Yeosang is blinded by the light, and he knows, in his heart, exactly how this story is going to go.
2
The first time Yeosang sleeps with Wooyoung, it’s two months before debut.
It’s not like he does it on purpose. But they’re roommates, and they’ve known each other for what seems like forever at this point, and Yeosang has seen the way Wooyoung looks at him sometimes, with a fire in his eye that can only be translated as lust. Plus, Yeosang is older now, and knows that once debut hits and they’re thrust into the whirlwind that is rookie idol life, there will be no time for relationships. No time for sex. And he’s shy, and introverted, and even if no one knows, it’s kind of embarrassing starting his idol career as a virgin. So it kind of makes sense, in a way, to climb down his bunk and slide into Wooyoung’s bed when he hears the unmistakable sounds of Wooyoung trying (and failing) to jerk off inconspicuously.
“Wuh.” Wooyoung says, eyes wide open in shock, hand shoved into his pants. Yeosang wipes the clear surprise off his face by leaning past the seed of doubt shredding his intestines and kissing Wooyoung directly on the mouth. Wooyoung takes a split second to kiss him back, hands digging deep into Yeosang’s hair, and it’s almost easy from there. Yeosang knows what sex is, has heard the things the other trainees talk about when they think they’re alone, even with how shy and introverted he is. He knows how this goes.
And okay. Look. Yeosang has known he likes boys just as much as he likes girls since before Big Hit, and the fact that Wooyoung is a boy is probably the farthest thing from Yeosang’s mind. The fact that Yeosang is a boy probably doesn’t even register in Wooyoung’s, either. He clearly knows what he’s doing as he strips both Yeosang and himself of their clothes, and lubes his fingers to open Yeosang up, and Yeosang refuses to feel jealous about it. Of course Wooyoung has experience. There’s only so much time one can spend alone in a room with Big Hit’s Legendary Trainee Choi Yeonjun before someone caves, after all, and everyone knows that after 1 A.M. no one really checks the practice rooms.
It hurts. Not because Wooyoung does a bad job, as rushed as they are, both in fear of getting caught and natural pent-up horniness. Wooyoung even managed to source lube and condom from god-knows-where, Yeosang-doesn’t-want-to-know. But it’s Yeosang’s first time having butt sex, so of course it hurts.
“You have to relax.” Wooyoung hisses into Yeosang’s ear as he pushes in. And he tries, he really does, but he’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep quiet, lest the other members get a hint of what exactly is going on under their shared roof, and he feels surrounded by Wooyoung on all sides. All of his senses are filled with Wooyoung— his scent, his skin, his moans. Yeosang somehow, inexplicably, feels completely and utterly owned by Wooyoung.
It’s horrifying. It’s exhilarating. It’s poetic, in a way, that sex with Wooyoung hurts, but also feels better than anything he’s felt before in his life. Yeosang feels pulled in two directions, stretched like a rubber band, seen for what is possibly the first time in his life. He didn’t know he could feel like this, the pain from the stretch and the pleasure from Wooyoung’s dick rubbing against his prostate making his entire body vibrate. Wooyoung bites gently against his neck and chest, like that will somehow make him stop shaking, and Yeosang squeezes his eyes shut and wraps his arms around Wooyoung’s back as he fucks him, holding on for dear life. He can’t breathe, and he doesn’t want to see Wooyoung’s face.
“You feel so good, baby.” Wooyoung groans. He’s being too loud, but Yeosang can’t find it in him to tell Wooyoung to shut up. Not when he’s calling Yeosang baby, pressing kisses into Yeosang’s skin like he wants them to stay there forever. Like they mean something other than lust, or teenage horniness.
Wooyoung finishes inside Yeosang, pulls out, and shuffles down the bed to immediately swallow Yeosang down to the root. For a moment, it’s kind of surreal to see just how good Wooyoung’s mouth is for something other than talking, before he is quickly distracted by the fact that Wooyoung’s mouth is actually way too good for whatever it is that they’re doing. Yeosang will never be able to have sex with another man again, which kind of sucks, because this is his first time.
They both take a moment to breathe, after. Wooyoung spits Yeosang’s cum into the trash can next to their bed, tied off condom following after, and Yeosang takes the moment to shake some feeling back into his legs. He feels achy, but in the good kind of way, like after a long dance practice, or a couple of hours at the gym.
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” Wooyoung says, pressing one last kiss into Yeosang’s neck. He’s snuggled into Yeosang’s side, and Yeosang feels like a livewire in all the places their skin touches— raw and overly sensitive. He bites back the instinctive urge to ask Wooyoung to stay, and instead shuffles awkwardly so Wooyoung can crawl out of the bunk.
There’s a look in Wooyoung’s eye that Yeosang can’t decipher, and he’s not entirely sure if he wants to. Luckily, Wooyoung doesn’t stick around to stare at Yeosang tucked into his bed, and sneaks off to the bathroom, probably to brush his teeth or something.
Which leaves Yeosang with a horrible decision to make. Does he stay here, in Wooyoung’s bed, where it smells like Wooyoung and the sex they just had together, or does he go back to his own? His legs are still a little bit shaky, and he likes the feeling of being surrounded by Wooyoung, and really, he doesn’t think Wooyoung will mind all that much. He is a cuddler, after all.
But staying means Wooyoung coming back from the bathroom and slipping into bed next to Yeosang, most likely cuddling him throughout the night. It means waking up to Wooyoung’s face and bed head and morning breath. It means coming to terms with the fact that he did indeed just let his best friend Jung Wooyoung take his virginity, and even though the idea of virginity itself is a human-made construct created to shame women, to Yeosang, it will always be a part of him that Wooyoung owns forever.
Plus, Wooyoung never actually asked him to stay.
There’s nothing to clean up other than sweat, since Wooyoung used a condom and sucked him off. Yeosang has heard that peeing after sex is a good idea, but he doesn’t know if that only applies to girls, and doesn’t think it matters enough to justify leaving the safety of their room. So he rolls out of the bed, climbs back up to his bunk on unsteady legs, and manages to throw his blankets over his head before Wooyoung gets back from the bathroom.
If Wooyoung finds it odd that Yeosang left while he was gone, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, Yeosang can hear him doing all the things he would normally do before bed— shaking out his blankets, making sure his phone is plugged in, punching his pillows to fluff them up a couple of times.
“Goodnight, Sang-ah.” Wooyoung calls out softly, when the shuffling finally stops. Yeosang doesn’t reply, and lets the physical exhaustion of his body carry him away.
3
Yeosang isn’t stupid enough to assume that he’s the only one in the group Wooyoung has slept with. Hell, he’s not even stupid enough to assume he’s the only one Wooyoung sleeps with regularly. It’s impossible to ignore the way Wooyoung’s hand rests on Mingi’s thighs when they sit on the couch together, or his obsession with Jongho’s arms, or Choi San’s general existence. Yeosang watches WooSan and their matching soulmate tattoos and general devotion to one another appear overnight and resigns himself to the ending he always knew was coming.
Or maybe, just maybe, he watched WooSan develop gradually, starting from Wooyoung’s very first day at KQ, when Yeosang had thrown himself head first into pretending like Wooyoung was nothing more than just another trainee. Just another colleague. Not the guy Yeosang’s been in love with since the beginning, when being an idol was just a silly little dream instead of being a reality.
(And isn’t that a kicker? The one thing he refuses to acknowledge, making itself known and present because of one single country boy from the south.)
Yeosang, on the other hand, has stayed very purposely away from that type of “group bonding”. He respects Seonghwa and Hongjoong too much to try, finds himself a little bit intimidated by Yunho and Mingi’s friendship, finds himself very intimidated by Jongho in general, and. Well. He can’t exactly ask San for sex, can he?
So instead, Yeosang slips into Wooyoung’s bed every so often, and slips right back out when Wooyoung leaves to use the bathroom. They don’t talk about it, mostly because there’s nothing to talk about. It’s just two best friends in a room. Just guys being dudes.
Yeosang tries not to think about it too much. It’s nothing to be concerned with. Wooyoung can have sex with whoever he wants, whenever he wants, and that’s absolutely none of Yeosang’s business. What matters most is getting down his line for the next title track, or mastering this stupid footwork that he’s been struggling with all day.
When practice is over, Yunho, bless his heart, volunteers to stay back with Yeosang. Yeosang bites back his tears and ignores the way the other members look back at him with frustration-laced pity. He knows he’s holding them back, and they know that he knows, so there’s no point in saying anything really. It’s just a part of life.
The door closes gently with a sense of finality, because Seonghwa’s lectures about respecting their surroundings has finally rubbed off on the rest of the group, sentencing Yeosang to another few hours of doom. There’s a part of Yeosang that wishes someone had slammed it, though, because Yeosang still manages to catch sight of the way San clings to Wooyoung’s back, draped over him like a superhero’s cape.
Two hours later, Yeosang is completely exhausted. His entire body hurts, and he feels like his head is just about to fall off his shoulders, but he’s finally gotten the stupid footwork down. Yunho even did him the favor of running through other difficult choreographies and giving him a head start on the new song that they’re supposed to learn tomorrow, which means that Yeosang is now ahead of the game. Hallelujah.
“You’re doing just fine, Yeosang-ah.” Yunho says, the three months between their birthdays briefly making themselves known. “It’s okay to relax a little bit.”
It’s not, but Yeosang isn’t going to be the one to say it. Instead, he hugs Yunho gratefully, sliding easily into the space underneath his arms. Most of the members fit perfectly into the spot, and Yeosang can’t count the number of times he’s taken advantage of Yunho’s easygoing nature to steal a little bit of physical comfort.
The ride back to the dorms is spent in exhausted, but comfortable silence. Yunho listens to something on his phone, earbuds tucked into his ears, and Yeosang takes the rare quiet as the gift that it is, leaning his head against the window of the car and feeling the cold from the glass seep into his brain.
When they get back to the dorms, they part ways with a single pat on the shoulder from Yunho. Yeosang heads straight for his room, forgoing a shower for the night, with nothing on his mind but the desire to dive straight into bed and sleep off the exhaustion. Instead, he throws open the door to his room, and stops short at the sight in front of him.
Wooyoung and San glancing up at him from the laptop balanced on their knees is no surprise. Hell, more San is in their room more often than not, snuggling up to Wooyoung or climbing up to Yeosang’s bunk to play games together. No, what shocks Yeosang is the smell of sex that very distinctly pervades the room, despite the fan blowing towards a cracked open window. Neither Wooyoung nor San are wearing a shirt, and with the blanket pulled all the way up to their stomachs, Yeosang is willing to bet that they probably aren’t wearing pants, either.
“You’re back earlier than I thought.” Wooyoung says, almost guiltily. Yeosang knows he doesn’t say it to be mean, knows that Wooyoung would never say anything to willingly try and hurt him, but the words sting anyway. Even Wooyoung thinks he can’t dance, can’t keep up with the rest of them without extensive help. Yeosang stares for a moment, pushing past the way his throat twitches at the reminder, before heading towards his dresser to find something comfortable to change into.
“Do you wanna stay and join us?” San asks, ever the peacemaker. “We’re watching Totoro.”
Yeosang shakes his head once he’s gotten his shirt pulled over his head. It’s Wooyoung’s shirt, actually, the Hanlim logo on the front half peeled off from the wash. But it’s comfy, and it smells like Wooyoung’s body wash, and Yeosang has probably stolen it more times than Wooyoung has worn it at this point.
He retreats to Yunho and San’s room, not wanting to watch Wooyoung and San be cute and domestic together. Of course he doesn’t want to stay. It’s not that he hates San, because he doesn’t. San is kind and sweet to everyone and always has a shoulder to cry on or a hug to ease the ache in their bones, and gives affection away like candy. But seeing Wooyoung and San simply reminds Yeosang of what he’s not allowed to have, what he’s always wanted but never gotten.
San loves like he knows how to do it, like he’s been loved his whole life. Yeosang is jealous, because he’s heard the stories of San growing up, and of his family, and somehow he still came out like this anyway, warm and soft and full of love. He loves the group with his whole heart but saves a special part of his soul for Wooyoung, because Wooyoung is the kind of guy who collects love like Pokémon cards. Together, they fill up all the spaces in each other’s personality, leaving no room for anyone else to even try and get between them.
Yeosang loves his family, he really does, but sometimes he wonders what it would be like if he grew up with parents like Wooyoung’s, who encourage every decision he makes, good or bad, or grandparents like San’s, who love him unconditionally, even when he tells them he wants to be a singer and moves across the country to train.
Yunho pokes his head out over the railing of his bunk when Yeosang enters the room, but thankfully doesn’t ask any questions. Yeosang tucks himself in between Shiber and the other twenty stuffed animals packed into San’s bed like they’ll be able to make him feel less alone, like the body they resemble will somehow, someday, take the shape of his best friend.
San’s soulmate is Yeosang’s best friend. Yeosang is stupid, but not that stupid. He knows how this story ends, remember?
4
Kim Hongjoong is safe in a way very few people are.
It’s not that he’s nice. Objectively, Hongjoong isn’t very nice at all. His patience is shorter than he is, and he’s constantly busy with work or thinking about work or just generally is very addicted to his work, which makes him a horrible conversation partner a good majority of the time. But Hongjoong is safe because he guards secrets with his life, and always puts the needs of the group above his own. Also he has a soft spot for Yeosang. And Wooyoung (probably) isn’t sleeping with him. That definitely helps.
The best part of Hongjoong, though, is that he doesn’t ask questions. Yeosang is an artist. He’s a dancer, a singer, and a celebrity. But with the way things are going, with how the choreographers put him in the back on stage and the arrangers for their songs give him the minimal number of lines, if the background is where KQ wants him then so it shall be. Hongjoong doesn’t ask why Yeosang wants to learn to write songs, just tells him to pull up a chair, and Yeosang faces his new challenge with grim determination. In this, at least, maybe he will succeed.
It’s hard. His ideas are silly, and oftentimes discarded without a second thought, but failure stings like an old friend. Yeosang isn’t good, or perfect, but he works hard, and Hongjoong is safe. And in the moments where he leans over and recommends ideas for Yeosang’s compositions, shifting his samples around, he is sometimes even kind.
Yeosang is on a roll tonight, if the satisfied nod Hongjoong gives him when he plays his creation out loud through the studio speakers is anything to go by. The pieces are fitting together a little bit too well, and the lessons Hongjoong tried to impart on him day after day all suddenly make sense. Maybe Yeosang’s hard work is finally paying off. Maybe there’s hope for him after all.
And then Wooyoung flounces into the room, bringing with him enough energy to raise the tension in the room by at least twenty percent. He startles for a moment, doing a double take when he sees Yeosang sitting in the chair next to Hongjoong, before visibly shrugging it off and continuing on his way into the room, only a little bit more hesitant than before. Yeosang can see the way Hongjoong instinctively grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes at Wooyoung’s presence. Normally he would agree with that reaction, but it must be raining outside, because Wooyoung’s hair and clothes are damp in a way that makes the loose fabric cling to Wooyoung’s skin. Yeosang can see the way Wooyoung’s collarbones glint in the dim light, the definition of his pecs and his stomach through his shirt, and his mouth goes dry against his will.
“What are you guys up to?” Wooyoung asks, flopping onto Hongjoong’s couch, wet hair and all. Hongjoong grinds his teeth harder before taking a deep breath, no doubt trying to shake off the excess enthusiasm Wooyoung brings with him wherever he goes.
“Working.” He replies, sounding almost entirely normal. Yeosang is impressed.
Wooyoung hums in reply, sounding just the slightest bit agitated. “Working, working? Or just working.”
Yeosang wonders if there’s a difference. Wooyoung says the words like they mean different things, putting emphasis in all different places. Hongjoong is always working. That’s kind of his whole thing.
Hongjoong sighs and saves whatever he’s working on before spinning around in his chair. “What do you want, Wooyoung?” He asks, elbows resting on his knees. Yeosang sees the way Wooyoung’s eyes linger on Hongjoong’s hands, how his tiny hands connect to the knobs of his wrist and his forearms, and takes back whatever thought he had about them not sleeping together. Good for them, he supposes.
A couple things click in Yeosang’s head. Hongjoong is safe, and Yeosang knows he isn’t the only person who thinks that, but it’s especially obvious at this moment. Wooyoung has something he wants to say, and it must be pretty important, since he’s made his way to the company building at night in the rain. Whatever the two of them are about to talk about is probably private, considering Wooyoung’s obvious surprise at Yeosang’s presence. And, more importantly, Hongjoong is willing to put his work aside to entertain Wooyoung, which means that whatever this is, it’s doubly important. Also they’ve slept together. Possibly more than once.
Yeosang knows when he’s not wanted. He can take a hint, and quietly starts packing his stuff. It’s better to remove himself than inevitably be asked to leave. Not that he thinks Wooyoung will ask him go, but he’ll probably give him some sort of sad puppy dog look that Yeosang is actually completely one hundred percent immune to but will still make him feel bad, probably because there’s a shred of kindness at the very bottom of his cold and lifeless heart. Or something.
“You don’t have to leave.” Wooyoung says, sitting upright suddenly. Both him and Hongjoong turn to look at Yeosang, concerned. “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you guys were doing. I just wanted some company.”
Yeosang shrugs. It’s not really that important, at the end of the day. It’s not like anything he creates will ever be released publically, after all. Wooyoung always has a little more spirit than the rest of them, but tonight he’s thrumming with more anxiety than anything else, and Yeosang knows it would be selfish to stay. Selfish to claim Hongjoong’s much needed safety for himself, selfish to think that he can do or say anything to help solve Wooyoung’s problems. If Wooyoung wanted Yeosang, he would have sought him out to begin with. It doesn’t make Yeosang jealous, or settle a pit of guilt in the bottom of his stomach for being a bad friend. Why would it? Wooyoung is a grown man who can make his own decisions, and so is Yeosang.
And hey. Silver linings. Hongjoong (probably) won’t agree to having sex with Wooyoung in his studio, if that’s what he’s here for.
He gives Wooyoung a little wave, to show that there’s no hard feelings, and bows once in gratitude to Hongjoong as he leaves. He leaves the file he was working on unsaved, open, with the cursor flickering right where he left it. It’s up to Hongjoong if he wants to delete it or keep it, and Yeosang, in all honesty, does not want to know which option he picks.
Fortunately, the manager who dropped Wooyoung off is available to take Yeosang back home. Unfortunately, the rain has picked up significantly since Wooyoung showed up. In the short time that Yeosang is outside, he finds himself soaked to the bone, forced to contort his body in such a way that drips the least amount of water onto the nice leather seats of the manager’s car.
He makes it back to the dorms with no further obstacles. Seonghwa, who is sitting on the couch listlessly watching T.V., jolts upright when Yeosang enters, already tracking rainwater onto the floors as he wrestles off his shoes.
It’s fine. He’ll clean it up later.
“I thought you were with Hongjoong tonight.” Seonghwa says, tilting his head like a baby bird. “Did he come home with you? Wait there, I’ll get you a towel.”
Yeosang shakes his head in reply, but Seonghwa is already headed down the hall. He wants to tell Seonghwa that Hongjoong is with Wooyoung, only he doesn’t know if he should be sharing Wooyoung’s personal business like that. Plus, then he’ll have to explain why he left, and it’s too much work to find the words to explain the complexity of his relationship with Wooyoung, and more importantly, Wooyoung’s feelings. Now that he’s home, all he wants to do is go to bed, bury himself in blankets and forget about the world around him for a little bit.
He accepts the towel Seonghwa offers him, running it messily through his hair. He shakes his head like a dog, spraying droplets of water onto Seonghwa’s face to make him laugh and swat at him in fake anger, before they work together to clear up the puddle Yeosang created.
“Shower time?” Seonghwa asks, wrinkling his nose at Yeosang’s wet clothes. He looks like he still wants to mop over the area Yeosang is standing in, so Yeosang nods in agreement and escapes into the bathroom to let Seonghwa do his thing.
By the time Yeosang has showered, gone through all twelve steps of his company assigned skincare routine, and tucked himself into bed, Wooyoung still isn’t home. Yeosang lies in bed, eyes wide open, and hums the melody he was working on until he finally falls asleep.
5
Contrary to what people might think, Yeosang doesn’t mind it when Jongho moves into their room. He’s actually very excited about it, seeing as he is just one more barrier Yeosang can put between himself and Wooyoung, even in the private sanctity of their bedroom.
Wooyoung, he knows, hates it at first. Not because he hates Jongho; Yeosang doesn’t think any of them are contractually allowed to hate Jongho. But they had gotten used to a certain way of life, a push and pull that has become normal for two best friends living in a room together. Yeosang doesn’t think Jongho likes the change all that much either, but that’s probably more to do with him missing Mingi than anything else. It could also be Wooyoung’s lack of a volume control. There is that problem, too.
Yeosang mentally says goodbye to the privilege of being able to sneak into Wooyoung’s bed unnoticed, welcomes Jongho with open arms, and just like that, they’re roommates.
(Oh my god, they were roommates.)
It’s fine. They adjust. They’ve been working together for so long that it doesn’t really matter who’s living with who. At this point, they’ve all seen each other in various states of undress, half awake and groggy. Yeosang thinks that the only dick he hasn’t seen at this point is probably Jongho’s, because he pays far too much attention to his surroundings to be caught off guard, and Yeosang hasn’t had a reason for Jongho to purposely show him his dick.
Of course, that might change very soon.
Wooyoung’s method of adjustment, however, is quite interesting. Once it becomes clear that Jongho moving in isn’t a temporary fix, he becomes determined to make a new normal as quickly as possible. Yeosang loses count of the number of times he comes into the room at night only to see Wooyoung invading Jongho’s bed, forcing Jongho to entertain him. Wooyoung starts seeking Jongho out more than any other member (other than San, of course), and Jongho lets him, and soon enough, Yeosang starts to feel like a third wheel in his own room.
On this particular night, Yeosang is exhausted. That might just be his default state these days, what with the insanity that is idol hood and comeback periods. He enters the bedroom to see Wooyoung in Jongho’s bed terrorizing him, which really isn’t anything new.
What is new is this:
“Oh good, Sangie, you’re here. Come join us!!”
Yeosang doesn’t think there’s anything untoward going on, per se. At first glance it looks like both Wooyoung and Jongho still have their clothes on, and are generally keeping their hands to themselves, laughing at something together on Wooyoung’s phone. But Yeosang sees the way Wooyoung tilts his head towards Jongho naturally, the way Jongho doesn’t let anyone touch him but allows Wooyoung into his bed, and suddenly, he can’t be here anymore.
Call him selfish, call him cruel, that’s all fine. But Yeosang’s the only one who never had a problem with Jongho moving in, so he doesn’t need to sit here and watch Wooyoung love someone else the way Yeosang has always loved him. The way Yeosang loved him first.
So he turns around and walks out. Down the hall, into the living room. No one comes after him, and he makes it all the way to the front door before anyone says anything to him at all.
“Where are you going?” It’s Mingi, standing in the kitchen holding a half-empty water bottle in one hand and his phone in the other.
Yeosang shrugs in reply, shoving his feet into his shoes. Who knows where he’s going. On a walk maybe, or to the convenience store. He’s not hungry, but suddenly he’s wide awake, and if he doesn’t get outside of this apartment right now he might just lose his mind.
“Can I come with you?” Mingi asks, chugging the rest of his water. Yeosang shrugs again, but waits for Mingi to grab a mask and steal a pair of Yunho’s shoes.
The night sky is beautiful. It’s a cloudless day, and the air is crisp and fresh. Even through the light of the streetlamps, Yeosang can see the stars shimmering in the sky above. It’s nothing like the night sky he used to look at back when he was still living with his parents, but it’s a lovely sight nonetheless.
Mingi wordlessly guides him to a park that Yeosang had no idea existed. It’s late, which means there are no children out, so Yeosang takes advantage of the opportunity to softly swing himself back and forth like he’s a child again, unaware of just how harsh and cruel the world can be.
Sometimes, Yeosang wishes he was young again. He wonders what it would be like to wake up, ten years old again. What choices he would make differently. Maybe he wouldn’t run away this time, and stick to the life plan his parents had always wanted for him. Maybe he would never meet Wooyoung.
They stop at a convenience store on the way home. Mingi buys a popsicle, and Yeosang buys a bottle of herbal tea. He’s not particularly thirsty, either, but he drinks it all anyway, savoring the way the bitter taste spreads through his mouth and down his throat. He’s grateful for Mingi’s silence, his steady presence at Yeosang’s side. They’re not the closest of members, that’s been made abundantly clear, but it doesn’t change the fact that Yeosang trusts him with his life, and vice versa.
By the time they get back to the dorm, it’s completely silent. Even the faint sound of computers that can nearly always be heard from Yunho and San’s room is off. Mingi heads off to his room with a one-armed side-hug, because being close doesn’t mean they can’t still be awkward together.
When Yeosang cracks the door open to his own room, both Wooyoung and Jongho are fast asleep in Jongho’s bed. Jongho is lying rigidly on his back, the little freak, but Wooyoung has buried himself into all the spaces Jongho has left open: his neck, underneath his arms, legs tucked around Jongho like an octopus.
Yeosang sneaks up to his bunk and firmly does not wish he was in Jongho’s place. He made his choice to leave, to not take part in whatever crazy bonding activity Wooyoung was going for, and Yeosang made his bed, so he’ll lie in it. Both physically, and metaphorically.
Yeosang wonders briefly what it would be like to be Woooyoung’s first choice, but that’s selfish. Wooyoung has a lot of love in his heart, and there’s a lot of people who deserve it. San, Hongjoong, Jongho. There’s no point in hoping for something that will never happen.
+1
Yeosang is lying in bed on his phone, not sleeping, but just scrolling through twitter aimlessly. It’s a rare afternoon off, but even the thought of joining the other members in the living room with their FIFA tournament makes his head ache, so he hides out here where it’s safe and comfortable. If he also stole Shiber from San’s bed to snuggle with, well, that’s no one’s business but his own.
That is, until Wooyoung shuffles into the room. He looks, for lack of better words, completely drained. His hair is greasy, the bags under his eyes dark smudges of pigment, and Yeosang knows he’s been fighting off a nasty cough recently. He figures the safest and most polite thing to do at this moment is probably leave. Maybe by now, the members in the living room will have calmed down to a more tolerable dynamic.
He hears Mingi scream, followed closely by San screaming back. Well, he winces, there goes that thought.
Yeosang makes it down the ladder and two steps away from the bed, Shiber tucked under his arm for emotional support, before a hand wraps itself around his wrist tightly. Wooyoung is sitting upright in his bed, hunched over miserably, looking like death warmed over while he holds onto Yeosang in a death grip.
“Why do you always leave?” Wooyoung asks.
Yeosang tilts his head curiously. He has no idea what Wooyoung is talking about.
“You’re always doing this.” Wooyoung glares at Yeosang. Yeosang has had years to learn all of Wooyoung’s facial expressions, and he thinks this might just be a stronger version of the look Wooyoung gave after the very first time they slept together. Yeosang hadn’t put much thought into decoding the look then, and regrets it now.
But Yeosang thinks that’s an unfair statement, and also kind of an extreme. Always? What “always” is Wooyoung going on about?
Wooyoung must see the confusion on Yeosang’s face, because he sighs heavily before letting go of Yeosang’s wrist. He rubs at his eyes angrily, and Yeosang wants to tell him to stop touching his eyes, but if Wooyoung is really angry with him, he doesn’t want to cross any more lines.
“You leave when I want to watch a movie with you and Sannie, or engage in some roommate bonding with you and Jongho. You leave when I tear the company building apart looking for you only to find you when I give up and go to complain to Hongjoong, like it doesn’t matter that we haven’t hung out with just the two of us in months, or like he’ll be able to command you to spend time with me. You leave after every time we have sex, like I’m nothing more than a cheap whore you can use for your own pleasure. And now, when I come back to our room in hopes that you’ll keep me company when I feel like shit, you’re leaving again.”
Yeosang rubs his wrist where Wooyoung had grabbed it. The skin is turning red from the pressure, stinging from Wooyoung’s tight grip.
He can’t move. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s had his reasons in all of these moments, but telling Wooyoung will mean admitting his feelings, and the last thing Yeosang wants is to tell Wooyoung the truth and finally, officially, be asked to leave.
“Is it because I’m in love with you?” Wooyoung asks, when Yeosang doesn’t reply. “Because of my feelings for you? You’re smart, you’ve probably noticed by now, but I’ve been trying to get over them, I swear.”
Yeosang’s breath catches in his throat. He hears the words, but there’s so many things wrong with what Wooyoung just said that he doesn’t even know where to begin.
“You love me?” Yeosang’s voice cracks at the end of the question. His face flushes red, but Wooyoung isn’t looking at him anymore, instead staring at where his hands twist together in his lap.
“Of course I do.” Wooyoung says like it’s obvious, like it’s something everyone knows. He looks so miserable. “I’ve loved you since we were seventeen.”
Wooyoung looks defeated. Yeosang has never seen him this upset before, leaking distress instead of his usual vigor, and Yeosang can’t help it when his legs instinctively lead him to sit on the bed next to Wooyoung. It’s a tight fit, but it feels right.
“And you want me to stay?” Yeosang looks at Wooyoung’s face closely, at the smear of bb cream still on his nose from their morning activities, at the acne that dots the bottom of his chin from stress. Somehow, he’s still the most beautiful person Yeosang has ever seen.
“Yeah.” Wooyoung wraps his arms around himself, still not looking at Yeosang, and Yeosang can’t have that. What kind of best friend would he be if he let the love of his short life stay so sad?
So Yeosang takes advantage of their close proximity to unwrap his own arms from Shiber and wrap them around Wooyoung instead. He tugs him down so they’re lying on the bed together, Wooyoung on top, Shiber squished between their bodies. For the first time (possibly) ever, Yeosang feels bigger than Wooyoung. He presses Wooyoung’s ear against his chest, pretends like he doesn’t feel deathly ill from how exposed he feels, and lets Wooyoung listen to the way his heart thunders violently in his chest.
He feels brave. He feels absolutely terrified.
“You’re shaking.” Wooyoung says into Yeosang’s shirt.
“I am.” Yeosang agrees. His hands are shivering, like he drank too many cups of coffee. His neck is twitching, like he’s too cold and too hot all at the same time, and he thinks he might actually throw up soon. Still, he holds tight to Wooyoung, because if Wooyoung really wants him to stay, if he’s always wanted Yeosang to stay, then he will.
He thinks, maybe, he might have been wrong about a couple of things.
“Are you okay?” Wooyoung asks.
Yeosang has never been more okay in his life.
“I’m nervous.” He says slowly, because if he’s going to spill his heart out, then he’s going to do it right. “You’re so easy to love. I didn’t think I stood a chance. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.”
The sentences are disjointed, but so are his thoughts. Still, Wooyoung’s weight on his body keeps him grounded when he thinks he might just float away into the sky.
“You love me back?” Wooyoung sounds hopeful. Still, doubt laces his tone, like he wants to believe Yeosang’s words but can’t quite bring himself to.
“I don’t know how to stop.” Yeosang confirms. He tightens his arms around Wooyoung, and Wooyoung makes a soft noise in acknowledgement.
“And you’ll stay?” Still hopefully. Still doubtful. Yeosang takes a deep breath of Wooyoung’s shampoo, and feels the way Wooyoung settles against his relaxing body.
“If you really want me to.” He says, carefully. Yeosang doesn’t know if he knows how to stay, if he knows how to fight through the instinctual anxiety in his lungs that says he shouldn’t, but for Wooyoung, he’ll try.
“You have to.” Wooyoung mumbles, biting at Yeosang’s chest gently. “You have to stay forever. You can’t leave after we fuck or when we hang out anymore, or I’ll die. I really will.”
Yeosang hums in agreement. Wooyoung is warm, a comforting weight in his arms. He imagines night after night of this, maybe cuddling in bed even when Jongho is in the room, like it isn’t something taboo. Being able to lean against Wooyoung’s shoulder when they’re in the van with the other members, or holding his hand even when he’s bickering with San.
But for now, Yeosang stays, and falls asleep to Wooyoung’s rhythmic breathing as he naps, tucked safely in Yeosang’s arms.