Work Text:
-Sakuya-
There was already a restless buzz at the airport when the boys stepped out of the car.
Flashes erupted in rapid bursts.
Voices overlapped, calling their names from behind the barriers while staff moved quickly to form a loose corridor through the noise.
It was always like this.
Louder now than it used to be.
Sakuya adjusted the strap of his bag and let his gaze sweep the scene out of habit.
Without meaning to, his attention settled on Sion and Yushi.
Sion walked half a step behind Yushi, their shoulders nearly brushing.
His hand hovered briefly at the small of Yushi’s back, guiding him through the tight gap between staff and security without pressing.
A stable anchor in the shifting crowd.
It was the kind of gesture easy to miss unless you knew to look for it.
Fans shouted louder when they recognized them, the sound swelling and breaking like waves against the barriers.
Yushi kept his expression composed, offering small nods and restrained waves, the practiced ease of someone long accustomed to being observed.
But Sion didn’t look at the cameras much today.
His gaze stayed lowered, scanning the space ahead, adjusting his pace whenever Yushi slowed.
Sakuya found himself watching the space between them more than anything else.
How Sion subtly angled his body whenever the crowd pressed closer, creating just a little more space without making it obvious.
It wasn’t something fans would notice.
But it was there, different from before.
Sakuya wondered briefly if Sion even knew he was doing it.
Then he looked away before he could name what that meant.
-Yushi-
The cabin air felt warmer than the terminal, carrying the low murmur of passengers settling into their seats.
Engines hummed beneath the floor, and for the first time that morning, with the outside noise finally gone, Yushi could hear the steady rhythm inside his own chest.
He leaned toward the window as he fastened his seatbelt, the soft click sounding louder than expected in the enclosed space.
Outside, runway lights blurred against the pale haze, distant and unreal.
Sion settled into the seat beside him a moment later, movements careful in a way Yushi knew that carefulness immediately, as if he were consciously trying not to take up more space than necessary.
Their shoulders brushed when Sion reached for his belt.
The contact was light, but unmistakable.
Neither of them moved away.
For a moment, they remained like that, hands resting near each other on the shared armrest, Yushi aware of the heat of Sion’s skin without actually touching him.
Yushi kept his gaze on the window, watching ground staff move in slow, distant patterns.
Sion glanced at him, quick and almost cautious, then looked down at his hands, fingers loosely intertwined as if holding a fragile thought in place.
“Are you scared?” Yushi asked, voice contained, his own still rough from the early hour.
Sion frowned slightly.
“Of flying?”
“No,” Yushi said softly. “Of consequences.”
The words settled between them, heavier than the cabin air.
Sion exhaled gradually as his thumb traced the edge of his boarding pass before he set it aside.
“Yeah.”
There was no hesitation in it.
The honesty sat there, simple and exposed.
Yushi let out the faintest breath, almost a soundless laugh.
“That makes sense. And?”
Sion held his gaze this time.
“I’d rather deal with them than pretend they don’t exist.”
Yushi studied him for a long moment, searching his face for a feeling he couldn’t quite name.
“That’s new.”
Sion’s mouth curved slightly, though not playfully.
“I’m trying.”
The plane lifted, turbulence rippling through the cabin.
Yushi’s hand shifted on the armrest, his knuckles brushing Sion’s for a brief second.
Neither of them withdrew immediately.
The contact lingered tentative, uncertain before Sion slowly moved his hand back to his lap, as if unsure whether he was allowed to leave it there.
Yushi caught it.
He hadn’t meant to move closer, but he hadn’t meant to retreat either.
For a second, he considered saying something ordinary, some small throwaway line to soften the space between them.
"You're quiet hyung."
Sion glanced over.
"Trying not to assume we're okay."
Yushi looked at him.
"Good."
After the steward delivered their drinks, Yushi glanced at the schedule on his phone.
“We land at eleven… film set at four,” he murmured absently.
Then he looked over.
“Didn’t you say you had something at lunchtime?”
Sion hesitated briefly.
“Yeah.”
Yushi turned slightly toward him.
“What is it?”
“I booked a test.”
Yushi blinked.
“A test?”
Sion nodded, gaze calm but firm now.
“STD panel. Just to be sure.”
The words weren’t defensive or dramatic, just factual.
Sion didn’t look away.
“Wonbin and I should’ve used protection,” he added quietly.
“I didn’t think clearly.”
Yushi’s breath paused for half a second.
“Oh.”
The admission landed quietly because Sion owned it instead of pleading with it.
The first knot inside Yushi loosened slightly.
Recognition came first, long before forgiveness.
"Okay," Yushi said, then after a beat. "Good."
The rest of the flight passed in muted fragments.
The constant hum of engines and a few minutes of half-sleep neither of them fully surrendered to.
When they landed, the schedule folded them straight back into staff instructions and the rhythm of being watched.
It wasn’t until later, when his phone vibrated in his palm, that the morning finally fractured.
Wonbin:
Can we talk?
Rooftop.
Please.
Yushi stared at the message longer than he intended. Rooftop.
Of course it had to be there.
He typed a short reply before he could overthink it and immediately called his manager.
“Hi Noona, um, I left my other in-ear mold in my locker at the company. I need to grab it. ”
“Yushiya, that’s not urgent right now, we-“
“Noona please, it is… for me… I promise I’ll be back before we’re heading to the next film set at 4 p.m. I set an alarm already. “
A long sigh answered him, followed by reluctant permission.
Yushi ended the call before he could change his mind.
***
The rooftop door opened with a metallic scrape and cold air rushed in first.
Brighter than he expected. Sharper.
Snow had settled unevenly along the railing, softening the hard lines of the concrete.
The city below glowed faintly beneath a pale winter sky, distant and subdued.
Yushi stepped further out, the thin crunch of snow under his boots the only sound.
The rooftop felt smaller than it used to, or maybe he had simply grown into someone who no longer fit here the same way.
He moved toward the edge without thinking, fingers brushing the railing where rust had once warmed under summer heat.
The metal was unforgiving now, stripped of the memory of warmth.
For a second, just a second, the rooftop altered in his mind.
Summer air. Sweat-damp shirts.
Music bleeding faintly from someone’s speaker.
Anton’s voice carried by warm wind.
Wonbin flat on the concrete, staring at the stars like the sky had made room for him first.
And Sion beside him, closer than anyone else had been, knee brushing his, fingers warm at the back of Wonbin’s neck like the world outside that circle didn’t exist.
Their first kiss, Sion’s and Wonbin’s, had been unplanned, unpolished, reckless in the way only youth could afford to be.
Back then, everything had seemed open.
Now the sky seemed closer, lower, as if it expected something from him.
Yushi rested one hand against the cold metal railing and leaned slightly forward, watching headlights drift below like slow-moving constellations.
The memory of the summer night here didn’t hurt the way it had in Fukuoka.
But it lingered, a muted melancholy settling into the spaces that used to feel effortless.
This damn dude. Why does it have to be here?
He didn’t turn when he heard the door close behind him. Instead, he exhaled slowly through his nose, guarded, buying himself a few more seconds before facing him.
“Yushiya,”
Wonbin’s voice carried differently up here, softer, almost uncertain.
“What are you doing? Be careful… come away from there.”
Yushi’s mouth curved faintly, eyes still on the city.
“Maybe I like the thrill,” he murmured before he finally turned to him.
“Just like you do.”
The wind changed between them. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Their breath lingered in pale clouds.
Wonbin rubbed his hands together, giving his nerves somewhere to go.
“You shouldn’t stand that close to the edge.”
“Why?” Yushi tilted his head slightly. “Afraid I’ll jump?”
“Afraid you’ll slip.”
That landed differently, stripped of teasing, stripped of defense.
And snow shifted softly under Wonbin’s boots as he stepped closer, but not too close.
“See, I asked you to come here,” he said, his voice steady but low, “because I didn’t want the last time we stood here to stay like that.”
Yushi’s gaze flickered briefly and the summer night flashed again, but not just the kiss.
The easy closeness.
The way the three of them had belonged to something uncomplicated.
“You remember it differently than I do,” Yushi said, voice contained.
“I remember you,” Wonbin replied without hesitation.
Silence followed, heavier this time.
“I’m really sorry, Yushiya,” he said, with no smile hiding behind it now.
“And I hate that the last memory of that night in Fukuoka is you seeing us like that.”
His voice wavered slightly at the end and he scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
"I don't even know what I was thinking."
A humorless laugh escaped him.
"Actually, that's a lie."
He looked away briefly.
"I knew exactly what I was thinking."
The admission sat between them.
"I just didn't think about what it would do to you."
He swallowed. “That’s on me.”
Snow drifted faintly from the railing as wind brushed past them.
“I know I’m Sion’s best friend,” Wonbin continued, finally meeting Yushi’s eyes.
“But you’re… more than that to him.”
He paused, measuring the words before he let them out.
“You’re not just someone he loves. You’re the person he leans toward, his pillar … right? The one he goes quiet around.
The one he looks for in a room without realizing he’s doing it." His voice softened.
“And I crossed a line that wasn’t mine to touch...not like that."
A breath.
"I don’t ever want you to think you were secondary. Or convenient. Or an option.”
Yushi held his gaze now.
“You didn’t make me feel replaceable,” he said after a moment.
He let that sit before continuing.
“You just reminded me that even people we love can be selfish.”
Wonbin nodded slowly, accepting it without argument.
“We’re okay,” Yushi said at last.
Not perfect, but okay, Yushi thought to himself.
Relief loosened Wonbin’s shoulders visibly.
He bent down without thinking, scooping up a small handful of snow, rolling it between his palms, as if he needed somewhere to release the last of his tension.
He tossed it lightly toward Yushi.
It hit his shoulder with a soft thud.
Yushi blinked and then laughed, the sound catching in the cold air.
“Oh. So that’s how we’re resetting?”
The next snowball hit Wonbin square in the chest.
Soon they were both laughing, breath fogging around them, the heaviness thinning into something familiar and almost gentle.
For a moment, it was almost uncomplicated again.
Their relationship wasn’t untouched, but it was mended enough to hold.
***
Back in the dorm, Sion found him standing in the hallway outside their rooms, a towel draped over his shoulder, the ends of his hair still damp.
He slowed when he saw Yushi.
“Hey.”
Yushi hummed in acknowledgment, not expecting more than that. Sion watched him a moment longer than necessary.
“How was the rooftop?”
Yushi blinked. “The… rooftop?”
Sion’s mouth curved faintly, but there was something measured in his eyes.
“Binna texted me. Said he asked you to meet.”
The pause that settled between them was direct rather than accusatory.
Surprise flickered across Yushi’s face before he smoothed it away.
“Oh.”
He hadn’t told him, and for half a second, his chest tightened around the omission.
Of course they would talk.
They always had.
He swallowed the thought before it sharpened.
“It was fine,” Yushi said evenly. “We talked.”
"Just fine?"
"What answer are you hoping for?"
"I'm not hoping for one."
"Liar."
Sion huffed a quiet laugh.
"Maybe a little."
"There it is."
"What?"
"The interview," Yushi said, tilting his head slightly.
Sion looked almost offended.
"I wasn't interviewing you."
"You absolutely were."
"Was not."
Yushi tilted his head.
"Then why do you look disappointed by the short version?"
A breath left Sion, almost amused.
“I just wanted to know.”
Silence stretched between them, delicate rather than tense.
Sion shifted his weight.
“So… are we good?”
Yushi studied him.
“With Wonbin?”
“Yeah.”
A beat passed. The corner of Yushi’s mouth lifted faintly.
“In the end…” he said lightly, gaze dropping for a second before lifting again,
“it was wet.”
Sion froze, visibly thrown.
“…Wet?”
Yushi nodded, composure intact, but with a mischievous smile on his lips.
“Very much.”
Sion’s jaw sharpened for half a second before he caught himself.
“Please, explain.”
Yushi finally laughed tenderly.
“It snowed, Hyung.” A pause. “We threw snow at each other.”
Sion exhaled through his nose, caught somewhere between relief and embarrassment.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You looked like that too,” Yushi replied considerately.
“You should see your face right now.”
“Like what?”
“Like you were imagining something worse.”
Sion stepped closer, narrowing the space without taking it from him.
“Were you trying to make me jealous?”
His tone wasn’t sharp.
What flickered in his eyes looked less like jealousy than a need to stay included.
Yushi met his gaze.
“No… but I wouldn’t hate it if you were.”
That earned a reluctant smile from Sion.
“I deserved that.”
Yes, he did.
Sion lowered his voice slightly.
“I’m glad you went.”
Yushi studied him.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want anything unfinished between the three of us.”
“And?” Yushi pressed, his tone restrained.
Sion held his gaze, his eyes stable and unguarded now.
“And I don’t want you feeling like you have to choose sides.”
Yushi’s expression softened slightly.
“I’m not choosing sides,” he replied quietly, his words firm but not defensive, like he had already thought about it longer than Sion suspected.
“I know,” Sion replied, and this time there was no doubt in it.
“That’s exactly why I don’t want to make it harder for you.”
Sion’s hand lifted, then paused near Yushi’s wrist.
The pause caught his attention more than the touch.
Instead of stepping back, he stayed.
That was all the permission Sion needed.
His fingers settled around Yushi’s wrist, warm and steady, thumb resting where he could feel the quiet pulse beneath the skin.
It wasn't a claim, it was reassurance.
Yushi exhaled slowly, his shoulders loosening almost imperceptibly as the warmth of Sion’s hand settled in.
“You don’t have to monitor everything, not me.” Yushi said softly.
“I’m not monitoring,” Sion said. “I’m trying to be more deliberate.”
The honesty didn’t demand forgiveness.
It simply existed.
Yushi stepped closer by half a pace until their shoulders brushed.
Sion didn’t pull him in.
He simply stayed and the contact lingered.
Voices echoed faintly from the living room, the ordinary rhythm of life continuing around them.
Sakuya and Ryo hurried in, eating from their ramen bowls before they all set off, and somewhere down the hall, Riku’s door closed, signaling he was ready too.
***
Later that evening at the filming location, the house lights glowed against the early dusk. Staff moved in and out through the main entrance, cables trailing along the ground, someone laughing too loudly inside already as cameras were tested and repositioned.
Instead of following immediately, Sion veered slightly toward the side steps that overlooked the small yard behind the house.
He sat down first, stretching his legs out in front of him, palms resting against the cold concrete. Yushi hesitated only briefly before lowering himself beside him.
This time, their shoulders touched naturally. Inside the house, the others’ voices rose and fell in bursts of excitement, but out here the noise softened, blurred by the open air and the fading light.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Sion leaned back slightly, gaze lifting toward the pale evening sky.
After a few seconds, he reached into his pocket and untangled one earbud, holding it out without comment.
Yushi took it.
Music filtered through softly, dissolving into the evening around them.
They sat shoulder to shoulder, knees almost touching, sharing sound without explanation.
Sion adjusted subtly whenever Yushi shifted, maintaining contact without forcing it.
“You don’t have to prove anything every minute,” Yushi said, barely above the music.
“I’m not proving anything,” Sion answered.
“I just don’t want to be careless with you again.”
The words settled between them, purposeful but not heavy.
The music faded as the song ended, but neither of them removed the earbud immediately.
Inside, someone cheered loudly.
Laughter spilled into the evening air and then dissolved again.
Yushi tilted his head slightly, studying the side of Sion’s face in the dim light.
“You’re quiet,” he murmured.
“Just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
That almost earned a smile.
Yushi let his knee drift nearer to him, warmth pressing lightly against Sion’s thigh.
The contact lingered a fraction longer than necessary.
There it was.
That familiar spark, the pull that had always come easily between them.
He leaned in slightly more, shoulder pressing fully into Sion’s arm, breath brushing his jaw.
Sion turned his head, and Yushi could suddenly see the focus in his gaze, the way it sharpened on him.
Usually, this was where the moment tipped. Where hands wandered, restraint loosened and Yushi’s fingers slid lightly over Sion’s wrist, testing the current between them.
It was there, strong and instant.
Sion inhaled slowly, his hand tightening slightly as if to secure the moment.
But instead of closing the distance, Sion rested his forehead gently against his.
Just that. No rush. No surrender to instinct.
His thumb brushed against Yushi’s knuckles, grounding rather than igniting.
Yushi waited half-expecting the shift.
The hunger was there. The heat too.
But it didn’t take over, not in the way it used to.
Sion’s voice dropped lower. “I want this to feel clear.”
Yushi frowned faintly. “It does.”
Sion shook his head. “I don’t want us fixing things with instinct.”
Yushi stilled.
What Sion meant hovered unspoken between them, that familiar script where intimacy blurred into bodies and heated relief.
“I don’t want you wondering later if I reached for you because it was easy.”
Yushi searched his face for doubt, but there wasn’t any.
There was desire there, undeniable and simmering just beneath restraint, but it was chosen. It was controlled.
Yushi swallowed. “So what are you reaching for?”
"You," Sion answered without hesitation, "not as a distraction, not because of momentum. You."
Then he pulled Yushi into his chest, slow and intentional, while Yushi’s cheek pressed against his shoulder.
The closeness was there, safe, but without urgency.
Without escape, and most of all, without heat overtaking clarity.
For a moment, something unfamiliar shifted beneath Yushi's ribs, too soft to be rejection and too complicated to be frustration.
He'd been expecting repetition.
He hadn't been expecting restraint.
Sion’s palm moved gently up and down his back, grounding and calm.
Inside the house, someone shouted their names again.
"We'll go in," Sion murmured into his hair.
"In a minute."
And they stayed.
-Sion-
The kitchen lights were almost painfully bright, reflecting sharply off the stainless steel counters and the half-open cabinet doors, while camera staff moved in hushed motions around the edges of the room, adjusting angles and checking focus.
Sion stood at the center island like he had accepted a sacred mission, apron tied securely around his waist, sleeves rolled up with almost ceremonial precision.
“I’m cooking,” he announced with confidence that already bordered on suspicious.
Sakuya leaned against the fridge, arms crossed.
“Why does that sound like a threat, Hyung?”
Daeyoung was already washing vegetables at the sink.
“At least let me chop hyung,” he said mildly, glancing over his shoulder.
“You hold knives like you’re negotiating with them.”
Riku had claimed the job of taste tester, hovering near the cutting board like it was officially assigned to him.
“For quality control,” he insisted, stealing a slice of carrot.
Ryo observed from near the stove with calm uncle-authority.
“Remember we are being filmed.”
“That makes it worse,” Sakuya muttered under his breath, earning a snort from Riku.
Sion allowed himself a faint smile but kept his hands deliberate as he adjusted the seasoning in the pan.
The rhythm of cooking anchored him: oil heating, vegetables sizzling softly, the weight of the knife in his palm.
Yushi lingered near the sink at first, quieter than the others, watching. Sion sensed it without looking.
Yushi occupied a different place in his attention now, no longer sharp or anxious, but constant.
A low hum beneath everything else.
He straightened slightly, checked the flame twice, and wiped the counter with more care than usual.
He joked with Sakuya and Ryo in between steps, keeping the mood light, but underneath it he was careful.
Small, responsible gestures with nothing to do with performance.
When Sion reached across him for a bowl, their arms brushed.
The contact was brief but warm through the thin fabric of their sleeves, Sion didn’t pull away.
He turned slightly instead.
“Can you hand me the soy sauce?”
He asked it casually, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
Their fingers touched when Yushi passed it over.
The touch was deliberate in the quietest way, familiar rather than charged.
When Sion checked the flame for the second time, Yushi laughed quietly.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That's suspicious."
"You've wiped that counter three times."
Behind them, chaos bloomed.
Daeyoung attempted to flip food in a pan and missed by centimeters, oil splattering harmlessly but dramatically.
Sakuya laughed too hard at his expression and nearly knocked over a glass in the process.
The filming crew loved it, cameras zooming in eagerly to capture every minor catastrophe.
Riku stepped in smoothly to rescue the pan like the composed group mother he secretly was.
Ryo clapped once sharply, voice half amused and half desperate.
“Focus, everyone. Or none of us eat.”
The room dissolved into laughter again.
And for the first time since SMTown, the laughter didn’t feel fragile or forced.
It felt real again.
At one point, Sion turned toward Yushi and murmured under the noise,
“Careful, it’s hot.”
He meant the pan, but his palm settled briefly at the small of Yushi’s back to guide him aside.
The gesture was instinctive, measured, protective without spectacle.
Yushi’s shoulders relaxed almost immediately and he offered a small, shy smile in return.
Relief settled in Sion’s chest, quieter and steadier than pride.
Across the room, Sakuya caught the exchange but pretended not to.
When they finally sat down to eat, crowded around the table with bowls overlapping, elbows bumping, and everyone talking at once.
Sion didn’t hesitate when choosing his seat.
He didn’t sit across from Yushi.
He sat beside him, choosing closeness without making it possession.
Ryo raised his glass dramatically.
“To surviving each other.”
“To not burning the kitchen,” Riku added dryly.
“To Chef Sion,” Sakuya declared with theatrical devotion.
"Don't encourage him."
"I have to. If I don't, next week he'll call himself Executive Chef."
The maknae of the group was just as cute as ever, and Sion's ever-loyal supporter.
Daeyoung gave Sion a measured nod as they began tasting the dishes they’d made.
“It’s actually good.”
Heat crept faintly up Sion’s neck. He glanced sideways at Yushi despite himself.
“Well?”
Yushi took his time, chewing thoughtfully as always, then turned to him.
“It’s delicious,” he said approvingly. A beat passed.
"You were worried?"
"No."
"I think you were."
A reluctant smile tugged at Sion’s mouth.
“Eat your dinner.”
Yushi’s smile widened slightly.
Sion knew the word carried more than flavor, and the tension behind his eyes eased.
It wasn’t pride. It was release.
***
Most of them had drifted away in uneven waves, with Ryo still arguing with Sakuya about dishwashing technique, Daeyoung calmly reorganizing the counter they had just destroyed, and Riku finishing the cleanup with quiet, almost parental efficiency.
The kitchen was different once the noise thinned out: dimmer, quieter, and less performative.
Sion stood at the sink, drying the final plate with more attention than necessary.
The soft scrape of ceramic against cloth grounded him.
He sensed Yushi behind him before he heard him shift.
That quiet pull had followed him all day, but now it settled in a different way, no longer tense, but intentional.
“You did well,” Yushi said gently.
“It was just food.”
“No.” Yushi replied, closer now and his mouth twitched.
"You've been saying that a lot today."
Sion looked up.
"'Just.'"
When Sion finally turned toward him, Yushi was leaning lightly against the counter, fingers resting at its edge.
His gaze was unwavering in that way that always unsettled Sion, like it saw past surface things.
“You mean me,” Sion said quietly. “Today.”
Yushi nodded.
The air between them shifted, heavier now with everything they were not saying yet.
Yushi moved first this time, only a small step forward.
Neither impulsive nor careless.
He chose the distance and closed it himsel
His fingers lifted to adjust Sion’s collar, smoothing a crease that did not need smoothing.
The touch was familiar and weighted with meaning.
Sion’s hand rose instinctively, settling at Yushi’s waist.
Warm and firm, but not drawing him closer.
He was acutely aware of that difference.
Their faces hovered so near that he could feel Yushi’s breath against his skin. And they were there again.
And they were there again.
That threshold where instinct usually overruled intention.
Where apologies blurred into kissing mouths and unrelenting heat.
And he wanted to. Oh God, he wanted to.
His thumb shifted at Yushi’s waist, fingers cinching in quiet acknowledgment of the current running between them.
Yushi leaned closer, no hesitation this time.
Sion inhaled quietly and, instead of closing the gap further, he rested his forehead gently against Yushi’s.
Warm skin against warm skin, both of them listening to their shared breath, with no rush forward.
Yushi’s fingers slid over his wrist, and the familiar spark beneath the contact, old habits whispering as desire rose easily.
He could take this further, he knew exactly how.
But that wasn’t what he wanted this time.
“I don’t want us reaching for each other because it’s easy,” he murmured gently.
Yushi stilled. “It’s not easy,” he replied, equally soft.
Sion shook his head faintly.
“I mean… I don’t want you wondering later if I reached for you because I needed comfort.”
That honesty cost him something, but he held it there anyway.
His thumb traced along Yushi’s side, grounding rather than igniting.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, low enough to feel like an offering rather than a test.
Yushi searched his face, and for a second, Sion braced himself, uncertain of what he might see. But there was no doubt in Yushi’s expression, only presence.
“Stay,” Yushi said.
Something in Sion’s chest loosened in a way he had not expected.
So he wrapped his arms around Yushi and pulled him closer, chest to chest, without urgency, just presence.
Yushi’s cheek settled against his shoulder.
For the first time, the closeness did not feel like repair.
Nothing had needed fixing. They had simply chosen each other anyway.
-Sion-&-Yushi-
Later that night, the house had settled into silence.
Doors clicked shut down the hallway.
The water pipes hummed briefly before falling silent.
A burst of laughter rose from upstairs and faded just as quickly.
Sion stepped into the room and paused just inside the door.
Yushi was already there, sitting at the edge of the bed, sleeves pushed back, hair still damp at the ends from his shower.
He looked up when Sion entered, unsurprised and quietly waiting.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Sion closed the door behind him with a muted click.
The air felt warmer than the rest of the house, heavier with anticipation.
“You tired?” Sion asked quietly.
Yushi shook his head. “No, not really.”
Sion watched him for another second, gentle in a way that made Yushi’s chest tighten.
It was care without distance, the kind that knew the shape of the wound and refused to press where it still hurt.
“You’re sure?” Sion asked.
Yushi knew what he meant without needing him to say more.
About this.
About them.
About whether closeness could feel like a choice again.
“Yes,” he said, quieter now. “I’m sure.”
Sion crossed the space unhurried, deliberate in every movement, stopping just in front of him.
Near, but not touching yet.
Yushi stood and closed the last inch between them without breaking eye contact.
There was no dramatic shift. No visible cue.
Just breath shared in the small space between their mouths.
Sion lifted his hand at the same time Yushi did.
Their fingers brushed along each other’s jawlines, a mirrored instinct.
They stilled for half a second, almost amused by the symmetry of it.
“You’re-” Sion began, voice low.
But Yushi’s breath brushed his lips before he could finish, neither of them leaned first or waited.
The distance disappeared in the same breath.
The kiss landed warm and slow at first, certain.
-Sion-
The first thing he registered wasn't heat. It was alignment.
Yushi wasn’t leaning into him out of uncertainty or searching for reassurance.
He was present, choosing.
Sion deepened the kiss gradually, attentive to every shift of pressure, every subtle response.
When Yushi’s fingers tightened in his shirt, Sion answered with equal intent, his palm sliding along Yushi’s waist, firm and contained.
-Yushi-
The difference in their kiss was immediate.
Sion wasn't consuming him, no, he was matching him.
The passion between them spread slowly, unfolding rather than igniting.
When Sion’s palm pressed more securely at his side, Yushi stepped closer without hesitation, chest aligning fully, thigh brushing against him.
There was longing, but it was grounded.
When they broke apart briefly, their foreheads rested together, noses brushing, breaths uneven, still composed.
-Sion-
He traced his thumb lightly along Yushi’s side, asking without words.
Yushi answered by pulling him closer again.
The next kiss deepened, fuller, bit-by-bit and heat expanded through them, building rather than exploding.
Hands began to wander, unhurried and attentive.
Fabric shifted. Fingers slipped beneath hems.
Bare skin met Sion's palm and he exhaled softly at the contact.
They moved toward the bed slowly, letting want stay honest instead of made it feel like every shortcut they were trying to leave behind.
This time, Sion did not let instinct carry them faster than trust could follow.
-Yushi-
Yushi noticed.
Missing it had never been an option.
And somehow, that made him want him more.
The mattress dipped behind his knees and he sat back, pulling Sion down with him.
Shirts loosened.
Buttons slipped free one by one. Breath mixed against skin now exposed to cooler air.
Under that gaze, Sion looked at him with hunger, but the hunger stayed controlled.
When his fingers slid beneath fabric and pushed it higher, Yushi lifted his arms willingly, letting the material fall aside.
Half-undressed and bare skin against bare skin.
Heat gathering between them.
Sion leaned down again, his mouth traced unhurried along Yushi’s shoulder before returning to his lips, there was no uncertainty left, only intent.
Eventually, Sion broke the kiss and looked at him.
The shift in Sion reached him before he saw it.
It was subtle, the way his jaw sharpened slightly, the way his grip firmed at Yushi's side when he tried to move.
“Stay,” Sion said, and this time the hold at Yushi’s waist left no room for misunderstanding.
The word was quiet, but it landed like instruction.
Yushi stilled under him, breath catching.
Trust moved beneath the heat this time, fragile and hard-earned.
Sion lowered himself further, forearm braced beside Yushi’s head, effectively caging him in without applying force.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
Yushi did, and Sion kept his gaze as if he meant to keep him there.
The intensity in Sion’s eyes wasn’t wild. It was focused, darker now and controlled.
“I want you to feel everything,” Sion said low.
Yushi believed him.
That was the problem.
Sion was not trying to turn hunger into a cure, or force into proof.
He was watching him too closely for that, catching every breath and every shift.
It should have made Yushi feel exposed.
Instead, it made him feel held.
Sion’s hand slid down Yushi’s side again, slower, fingers firm and warm as if memorizing him.
When Yushi’s breath hitched, Sion didn’t smile.
“You react so easily for me,” he murmured near Yushi’s ear.
“And you still pretend you’re unaffected.”
Yushi swallowed. “I’m not pretending,” he replied, his voice thinner now.
“Good.”
The approval in that single word made his stomach tighten.
Sion shifted his weight with purpose, aligning their bodies fully, letting the friction build instead of chasing it immediately.
It was maddening, that control.
When Yushi tried to move for more, Sion’s grip locked at his hipbones, holding him in place.
“Patience baby,” Sion murmured. “Let me.”
The restraint sent a sharp wave through him.
And Yushi had expected hunger.
The easy slide into instinct, the kind of closeness that could make everything else blur if they let it.
He had not expected this.
Sion looking at him like he was something to be cared for even while he was being wanted.
Sion holding back when he could have taken more.
Sion making every second feel less like apology and more like proof.
For a moment Sion kissed him again, his tongue dominating his, teeth grazing slightly before softening.
His touches moved with measured precision, building the tension instead of releasing it. Yushi was unraveling because of it.
“Tell me when it’s too much,” he whispered, and the way he anchored Yushi made it clear he expected an answer.
Yushi shook his head, panting uneven. “It’s not.”
Sion watched him for another second, as if confirming the answer in his body before trusting the words.
Then he moved.
His grip pressed more firmly at his hipbone and his eyes greedily roved over Yushi’s body.
Sion bit his lip as he pressed at the thin black fabric that covered Yushi's length.
His fingers went up to Yushi's nipples to pinch and rub them alternately, sending an electric charge down his spine, causing him to shiver slight pain and pleasure.
Yushi watched the swipe of his tongue as Sion licked and sucking at his already sensitive buds, like a hungry man.
Shortly after, he moved between Yushi’s legs, using his tongue to lick his way down at his skin.
Yushi’s back arched off the bed and moaned lightly, fingers curled into older one's hair at the sensation.
Sion was giving featherlike kisses on his covered cock before pulling the slip out of his way.
He brought a hand around the base, licking at the head before his lips closed gingerly over the tip, his lashes fanning across his reddened cheeks as he engulfed him.
Next he bobbing his head up and down along the length, hitting the back of his throat with intent, just to made the younger one squirm and whimper beneath him.
If Yushi had looked closely, he would have seen tears beading in the corners of his eyes.
Sion didn’t cry easily, but when he did, he looked so pretty that, for some reason, it made Yushi’s length harden even more.
He bucked his hips instinctively, the first thrusts were cautious and measured.
But when lust overtook Yushi, Sion didn’t pull him back.
He gave him that little freedom.
Yushi had the sense Sion had expected it, in the way his thrusts grew harder in Sion's mouth.
Eventually, his grip steadied the older one's head as he face fucked him relentlessly, breath breaking into sharp, ragged pants.
“You… deserve this, Hyung,” Yushi whispered low.
Sion just hummed at his words, the sound sending vibrations straight back to him.
The way Sion responded told Yushi everything. Every hot, heavy pulse reached him in his mouth.
Sion sighed with satisfaction as he tasted a few a drops of him, twirling his tongue right back into the slit, drawing a keen from Yushi.
After a few more seconds, he removed his mouth from him and replaced it with one hand, continuing to stroke while sucking the fingers of his other hand.
Sion tightened his grip and gave him a languid pump as he stared at the unblemished rim in front of him.
His own manhood in full presence now and hard between them.
He sank two of his slick fingers inside Yushi with excruciating slowness.
Yushi whimpered loudly at the intrusion.
Pleasure flared sharp and almost painful as his fingers scissored him open, careful at first, then searching for that spot.
Sion smiled pleased, when he hit the bundle of nerves, that made Yushi gasp.
The pace increased after that, intentional and powerful, instead of a chaotic excitement.
Each movement was guided, held, controlled.
Sion only watched, mesmerized, as he fucked him straight into an orgasm with his hands.
Pressure built unbearably, heat spreading through Yushi until his body arched without permission.
“Sion- Hyung-”
“I know,” Sion murmured.
He adjusted instantly, pushing his fingers in a slightly different angle even deeper and faster into the sensitive edge.
His other palm tightened hard at Yushi's cock as it moved, holding him in that rhythm until he trembled uncontrollably.
“Now,” Sion said softly.
That was all it took.
Yushi shattered beneath him, breath stuttering and fingers digging into Sion’s shoulders as the pleasure hit deep enough to overwhelm him.
Sion stayed with him, held him through every shudder as Yushi moaned his name into the dark.
His cum splashed across his fingers, into the air, and the space between them.
Sion took a taste of it, his head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut.
He kissed him right away and lingered there, breathing against his mouth.
“Mhmm, I can never get enough of you.”
Sion didn’t rush for his own release.
Even then, all of his attention stayed on Yushi.
Only when he softened beneath him, shaking and breathless, did Sion let himself follow, slow and contained, his gaze fixed on Yushi like a promise.
Afterward, the heat had not faded so much as settled, changing the shape of the room around them.
Sion didn't pull away immediately.
Instead, he lowered himself beside Yushi, one arm sliding around his waist.
His fingers moved gradually over Yushi’s stomach again, grounding, his index finger brushing small circles.
“You okay?” he asked gently, the question sounding like a real check-in.
Yushi’s limbs remained heavy, oversensitive in the best way, but he nodded faintly.
“Yeah.”
Sion leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his temple.
“You were wonderful, my love,” he murmured.
The dominance had dissolved now, replaced by the softer side of him Yushi knew just as well.
Yushi exhaled slowly and turned into him, pressing his face against Sion’s chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Sion wrapped both arms around him, firm and protective, and this time there was no hunger left in the hold, only warmth.
The realization arrived as sensation rather than thought:
being held afterward could be just as powerful as being undone.
Somehow, with Sion so intense and controlled and contradictory, there was nothing unsafe left in the space between them.
It landed as love.
Love that moved through the wound, not around it.
It did not ask him to forget.
It reached the places that still ached and held there, steady and warm, until Yushi could finally rest inside it.
For the first time since Fukuoka, the closeness was no longer repair.
It was home again.
***
At some point, Yushi must have drifted off to the slow rhythm of Sion’s breathing.
When he opened his eyes again, the room was pale with morning, and Sion was still there, arm warm across his waist as if he had never let go.
On the bedside table, a notification light blinked. Yushi reached for his phone and unlocked it without fully lifting his head.
New schedule updates: Overseas dates confirmed, album recording sessions moved forward, additional choreography rehearsals added, a collaboration rumor already gaining traction online.
The world was already moving again.
He stared at the screen for a moment longer than necessary before silencing it and setting the phone face down.
Sion stirred slightly behind him, tightening his hold in his sleep as if he’d registered a change in temperature rather than Yushi moving.
The younger one allowed himself a small, almost private smile.
Before the rest of the house began to wake, they stepped quietly out onto the small balcony outside their room.
The morning air stung faintly against their skin, but neither of them commented on it.
The sky was lightening by degrees, caught in that in-between shade before sunrise fully commits to day.
They stood side by side, not touching at first.
The stillness between them no longer seemed uncertain.
It had been earned.
Then Sion’s hand found Yushi’s, palm against palm, a quiet warmth in the cold air.
Below them, the city was already beginning to move.
Cars rolled unhurriedly through intersections.
Streetlights blinked off one by one.
Somewhere inside the building, a brief emergency notification tone cut through the stillness, sharp and official, gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
Sion’s head tilted instinctively toward the sound, his posture tightening for a fraction of a second before easing again.
The reaction didn't escape Yushi, but when Sion simply shook his head and murmured,
“Probably nothing,” he let the moment dissolve with the morning light.
Yushi watched the horizon as the first thin edge of sunlight broke over the buildings.
He didn't feel fragile, or like he had to brace himself.
He was simply aware.
Sion shifted slightly closer until their shoulders brushed this time.
The contact was subtle, but intentional.
“We’re going to be busy,” Yushi said, voice contained, offering it as fact rather than complaint.
Sion gave a small nod. “I know.”
There was no dramatic promise after that. No vow.
No reassurance layered in too many words.
Just a small, certain squeeze of Yushi’s hand.
The kind that says I’m still here.
The sun rose higher, washing pale gold across the balcony railing and catching in Yushi’s hair.
The cold stayed with them, no longer sharp enough to matter.
The day would move quickly, the way it always did.
But this time, as the light spread across the city below them, Yushi no longer stood at the edge of unstable ground.
He was standing beside someone.
Together.