Chapter Text
The rain had started sometime during the last encore. Nobody had noticed at first.
The stage lights had been too bright, turning everything beyond the edge of the platform into a blur of colors and movement.
The music had been loud enough to vibrate through the floor beneath their feet, and the crowd had spent the final song screaming every lyric back at them with such force that even the members could barely hear each other through their in-ear monitors.
By the time the showcase ended and they were hurried through backstage hallways by managers carrying umbrellas and garment bags, the sky above Seoul had already opened completely.
Now the rain drummed steadily against the roof of the van as they made their way back to the dorm.
The city outside looked strangely different at night when it rained. Every traffic light stretched across the wet roads in long streaks of color, red and yellow and green melting together on the pavement.
Buildings that had looked sharp and familiar only hours earlier now seemed softer around the edges, their reflections trembling in puddles as cars passed through them.
From where he sat, Seonghyeon could barely make out individual signs anymore. Everything beyond the glass had become a watercolor painting of moving lights.
The inside of the van was warm enough that the windows had started to fog around the edges. The heater hummed quietly beneath the sound of rain, filling the silence left behind by a day that had been far too loud.
Most of the members had fallen asleep almost immediately after leaving the venue.
James occupied an entire row by himself, his head tipped against the window at an angle that honestly looked uncomfortable.
He had somehow managed to fall asleep with his headphones still hanging loosely around his neck, one hand curled inside the sleeve of his jacket. Every now and then the van hit a bump in the road and his head knocked softly against the glass, but he never woke up.
Juhoon sat across from him with his hood pulled low over his face, arms folded comfortably across his chest. Whether he was actually sleeping or simply avoiding conversation was impossible to tell.
It had always been impossible to tell.
Juhoon possessed a level of stillness that sometimes made him look less like an eighteen-year-old guy and more like somebody's exhausted grandfather trapped inside a young body.
Martin, unfortunately, was awake.
Or at least awake enough to continue being a nuisance.
From the front passenger seat came the occasional sound of muttering, followed by aggressive typing. Every few minutes Martin would sigh dramatically, delete whatever he had just written, then immediately start recording another voice memo into his phone.
Earlier he had apparently become inspired by something during the showcase and had spent the entire drive trying to save a melody before he forgot it.
The manager had already threatened to take away his phone twice.
Martin had responded by speaking quieter.
Seonghyeon smiled faintly to himself before turning his attention back toward the window.
Everything hurt.
Not in a serious way.
Just the familiar exhaustion that followed a successful performance. His legs felt heavy from hours of choreography, his shoulders ached pleasantly, and his throat carried the roughness left behind by singing for nearly two hours straight.
It was the kind of tiredness he had grown strangely fond of over the years. The kind that made him feel like he had actually accomplished something.
Beside him, Keonho sat unusually still.
Most people wouldn't have noticed.
After years of training together, however, Seonghyeon had become very good at recognizing when his friends were behaving differently.
Keonho wasn't upset. He wasn't sick. He wasn't even particularly tired. He was simply quiet.
Quieter than usual.
The realization drifted through Seonghyeon's mind for barely a second before disappearing again. He was too exhausted to think much about it.
Keonho, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking. That was the problem.
No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept circling back to the same place. Or rather, the same person. Which was ridiculous.
Completely ridiculous.
Nothing had happened. Absolutely nothing.
He had repeated that fact to himself so many times over the last few weeks that the words had started losing meaning. Every explanation he came up with sounded reasonable for approximately five minutes before falling apart again.
Maybe he was stressed. Maybe he was tired. Maybe comeback season was making him emotional. Maybe he simply needed more sleep. All perfectly logical explanations.
The issue was that none of them explained why he suddenly found himself paying attention to things he had never noticed before. Or perhaps had noticed before, but never cared about. Now it seemed impossible not to.
His gaze drifted sideways.
Seonghyeon was staring out the window, completely unaware.
A reflection from a passing streetlight slid briefly across his face before disappearing again. The dark strands of hair falling over his forehead shifted slightly whenever the van moved. He looked tired. Comfortable. Familiar.
The familiarity should have made everything easier. Instead, it somehow made things worse.
Keonho couldn't remember a time when Seonghyeon hadn't been there.
Not really.
They had trained together. Performed together. Eaten thousands of meals together. Shared hotel rooms, practice rooms, waiting rooms, airplanes, and dressing rooms.
There were memories of Seonghyeon scattered through nearly every important moment of the last several years. Which was exactly why this was becoming so annoying.
How was he supposed to figure out what had changed when nothing had actually changed?
Seonghyeon was still Seonghyeon.
Still the first person to notice when somebody skipped a meal. Still the one who remembered everyone's favorite drinks and everyone's little habits.
If James looked tired, Seonghyeon noticed. If Juhoon hadn't spoken all day, Seonghyeon noticed. If Martin had spent twelve hours locked inside his studio corner surviving on nothing but energy drinks, Seonghyeon definitely noticed.
He was still quiet in front of cameras, polite during interviews, and awkward whenever too much attention was directed at him.
Fans often described him as calm, reserved, even shy.
Which would have been funny to anyone who actually lived with him.
Because the moment the dorm doors closed behind them, that version of Seonghyeon disappeared completely.
At home, he laughed loudly enough to be heard from the opposite side of the apartment. He argued passionately about things that didn't matter. He had an almost unbelievable talent for falling directly into Martin's traps whenever the leader decided to start trouble. Sometimes all it took was a single comment before Seonghyeon was protesting dramatically while the rest of them watched in amusement.
He was embarrassingly easy to rile up.
And somehow, despite complaining the entire time, he always came back for more.
Most importantly, he was still the person who instinctively gravitated toward the people he cared about.
He was still Seonghyeon.
Which was exactly the problem. Because nothing about him had changed.
Keonho lowered his head slightly and closed his eyes.
Maybe he was overthinking.
Actually, he was definitely overthinking. That much was obvious.
The problem was that every time he decided to stop thinking about it, some completely normal moment would happen and ruin all of his progress.
A laugh.
A smile.
A casual touch on the shoulder.
A glance across a room.
Things that had never mattered before suddenly seemed capable of occupying his thoughts for hours afterward.
It was exhausting.
The van rolled over a small bump in the road. Without really thinking about it, Keonho let his body lean sideways.
At first he intended to correct himself immediately.
Then he hesitated.
The hesitation lasted less than a second. Just enough time for a terrible idea to form.
The worst part was that he knew exactly what he was doing.
Slowly, carefully, he allowed his head to settle against Seonghyeon's shoulder.
Warm.
That was the first thing he noticed.
The second was the immediate acceleration of his heartbeat.
His eyes remained firmly closed.
Idiot.
Absolute idiot.
Why was he nervous?
This wasn't unusual.
This wasn't even remotely unusual.
There had been flights where they practically slept on top of each other because the seats were too small. There had been hotel rooms with one bed. There had been countless schedules where somebody ended up using somebody else's shoulder as a pillow.
Nothing about this should have felt significant.
And yet suddenly every point of contact felt impossible to ignore.
Beside him, Seonghyeon shifted.
Keonho's stomach immediately dropped.
For one horrible second he was convinced he had made everything weird.
That Seonghyeon would move away.
Or look at him strangely.
Or ask what he was doing.
Instead, Seonghyeon merely adjusted his own position slightly, making sure Keonho wouldn't slide off when the van turned a corner. The movement was absent-minded, effortless, the kind of thing somebody did without even thinking about it.
Then he returned his attention to the rain outside.
That was all.
No confusion.
No realization.
No awareness whatsoever.
To Seonghyeon, this was completely normal.
Keonho wasn't sure whether that made him feel relieved or disappointed.
Maybe both.
The realization lingered unpleasantly in his chest as he listened to the rain tapping against the windows and watched the blurred city lights through half-closed eyes.
Outside, Seoul continued glittering beneath the storm.
Inside the van, nobody noticed anything unusual at all.
Except Keonho.
And that, perhaps, was the beginning of the problem.
By the time the van finally pulled into the parking beside their dorm building, the rain had somehow become even heavier than before.
The moment the sliding door opened, cold air rushed inside.
Martin immediately recoiled and pulled his hoodie tighter around himself as he stared out into the rain.
"Why is Korea trying to drown us?" he complained, sounding personally offended by the weather.
The manager didn't even bother looking up from his phone. "Get out."
Martin turned toward him with an expression of genuine betrayal. "I'm serious."
"Get out of the van."
Martin pressed a hand to his chest. "I'm the leader."
The manager finally looked up from his phone. "Martin."
"Yeah?" Martin asked, already trying to look innocent.
"Get out."
A dramatic sigh escaped him as he climbed out into the rain.
Seonghyeon laughed quietly under his breath while pulling his hood over his damp hair. Then he followed after Martin, stepping around a puddle near the van door. The others were much quieter, too exhausted to participate in whatever argument Martin was trying to start.
For a moment, Keonho remained where he was.
Not because he was tired.
Well.
Not only because he was tired.
The warmth of Seonghyeon's shoulder had disappeared the second the van doors opened, yet somehow he was still painfully aware of it.
Get a grip.
The thought arrived immediately.
Firm.
Unhelpful.
Keonho grabbed his famous tote bag from under the seat and stood before his brain could embarrass him any further.
Outside, cold rain brushed against his face.
Good.
Maybe that would reset whatever was wrong with him.
Ahead of him, Seonghyeon was already complaining about the weather.
Or maybe Martin was complaining and Seonghyeon was laughing at him.
It was difficult to tell.
James had his hands shoved deep inside his jacket pockets, walking half asleep toward the building entrance.
Juhoon moved beside him in complete silence.
As usual.
Keonho fell into step behind them.
Normal.
Everything was normal.
The showcase was over.
The schedule was over.
They were going home.
Nothing had happened.
Absolutely nothing.
Then Seonghyeon glanced back over his shoulder. "Keonho, hurry up."
The words were casual.
Mindless.
The kind of thing he probably would've said to any of them.
Yet somehow Keonho's stupid heart reacted as if he'd been personally summoned by royalty.
This is ridiculous.
"Coming," he muttered.
Seonghyeon nodded once and immediately turned back around, already distracted by whatever Martin was saying now.
Of course he was.
Meanwhile Keonho followed them into the building while trying very hard not to think about the fact that he could still remember exactly how warm Seonghyeon's shoulder had felt.
The first thing Seonghyeon did when they entered the dorm was kick off his shoes.
The second thing he did was nearly trip over Martin's.
"Seriously?" He caught himself against the wall before glaring down at the sneakers lying directly in the middle of the entrance.
Behind him, James quietly stepped around the obstacle without comment.
Juhoon did the same.
Neither looked surprised.
Martin, meanwhile, was already halfway through pulling off his soaked hoodie.
"What?" he asked, his voice muffled somewhere inside the fabric.
The hoodie finally came off.
His hair immediately sprang in twelve different directions.
Seonghyeon pointed dramatically at the shoes. "Why are your shoes always everywhere?"
Martin followed his gaze as if he had never seen the shoes before.
"Because that's where I took them off."
Seonghyeon stared at him. For a full second.
"That's not a good answer."
"It answered your question."
Keonho quietly hung his jacket on the rack near the door while watching the exchange unfold.
A smile threatened to appear despite himself.
Some things never changed.
The funny part was that Seonghyeon never actually expected Martin to change.
Half the time he sounded annoyed. The other half he sounded entertained. At this point the complaints had become part of the routine.
Like James making tea.
Or Juhoon silently judging everyone.
Or Martin forgetting where he left something important.
Somewhere behind him, the front door clicked shut. The familiar sound echoed softly through the apartment. For a brief moment, everyone simply stood there.
Tired.
Damp from the rain.
Relieved to finally be back.
Seonghyeon bent down and moved Martin's shoes out of the way himself, still muttering under his breath. "One day I'm going to throw these away."
"You say that every time."
"One day I'll mean it."
"You won't."
"I will."
"You like me too much."
Seonghyeon immediately looked offended. "I absolutely do not."
Martin's grin widened. "See? That's exactly what someone who likes me would say."
"Oh my god."
The apartment felt different after midnight.
Quieter.
Not because Martin had finally stopped talking — he hadn't — but because the energy that followed them home from schedules had started to settle.
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
The living room lights remained on.
Somebody had left a half-finished bottle of water on the coffee table.
One of Martin's notebooks sat abandoned beside it, already forgotten despite the fact that he had spent the entire van ride insisting it contained the greatest idea of his career.
The couch creaked.
Keonho looked up from where he was sprawled across a bean bag.
Seonghyeon had somehow managed to take over nearly the entire couch.
Not intentionally.
Probably.
He had dropped onto one end of the couch the moment they entered the living room and had gradually expanded from there.
One arm was draped along the backrest.
One leg was stretched out.
The other hung over the edge.
A blanket he definitely hadn't been using five minutes earlier was now somehow draped across his lap.
"You stole my blanket." The accusation came from James.
Seonghyeon looked down. Then at James. Then back at the blanket. A pause followed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"It's literally mine."
"You can't prove that."
James pointed toward a small embroidered patch sewn into the corner. His initials.
Seonghyeon immediately folded that corner underneath himself.
James stared. Seonghyeon stared back. The silence lasted approximately three seconds. Then James sighed.
"You are impossible."
A grin appeared on Seonghyeon's face.
Not a victorious grin. Not a smug grin. Just a grin that suggested he enjoyed annoying people far more than he should.
Keonho looked away.
Then immediately looked back.
Nothing about this interaction mattered.
Nothing.
Yet somehow he found himself noticing the way Seonghyeon's eyes disappeared slightly whenever he smiled. Or the way he leaned farther into the couch whenever he thought he'd won an argument. Or the way he automatically looked around the room to see if anybody else found him funny.
Why am I noticing this?
Across the room, Martin was still talking. Nobody knew when he'd started. Or what exactly he was talking about anymore. Something involving lyrics. Or maybe chord progressions. Possibly both. The details had become difficult to follow ten minutes ago.
"...and then if I move the chorus here instead of after the second verse—"
The manager appeared in the doorway.
Martin didn't notice.
"—because then the build-up feels more emotional, right? Like it hits harder—"
The manager cleared his throat.
Nobody reacted.
Martin kept going.
"—and then maybe the bridge comes back but slower—"
"Why," the manager interrupted, his voice dangerously calm, "are all five of you still in the living room?"
Silence.
Martin stopped mid-sentence. James slowly lowered his mug with tea. Juhoon glanced up from his phone. Seonghyeon looked over the back of the couch. Keonho turned his head.
The manager stood in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. His expression suggested he already knew the answer and wasn't going to like it.
Nobody spoke.
The manager looked at Martin.
Then at everyone else.
Then he looked back at Martin.
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Not one of you has showered yet."
It wasn't a question.
Martin pointed at himself. "I was about to."
"You've been about to for twenty minutes."
"That's actually fair."
The manager didn't let up. "Spotify interview tomorrow."
The reminder worked immediately. Not because anyone had forgotten. More because hearing it out loud made it feel real again.
The manager glanced around the room.
"Recording starts in the afternoon. Hair and makeup before that. Which means you need sleep."
Martin opened his mouth. The manager pointed at him instantly. "No."
"I didn't even say anything."
"I know exactly what you were going to say."
Martin looked genuinely offended. "You don't know that."
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
The manager slowly removed his glasses. That alone made James start laughing.
Meanwhile, Seonghyeon was watching the exchange with complete fascination. The blanket argument had already been forgotten. His attention shifted effortlessly from one source of entertainment to the next.
Like a dog spotting a squirrel.
The comparison made Keonho snort quietly before he could stop himself.
The sound wasn't loud.
Barely more than a breath.
Yet somehow Seonghyeon heard it immediately.
His head turned toward him from the opposite end of the couch. "There you are."
The words were casual. The kind of thing he probably said without thinking.
Keonho looked up. "What?"
Seonghyeon shifted slightly, pulling the blanket higher over his lap. The grin he'd been wearing moments earlier had faded.
Not completely. Just enough. Now he looked more confused than amused.
His gaze lingered on Keonho for a second longer than necessary. "You've been quiet."
The room didn't stop moving around them.
Martin was still trying—and failing—to convince the manager that creating music was somehow more important than sleep.
The manager looked unimpressed.
James sat quietly with a mug of tea between his hands, occasionally glancing up from the steam rising from the cup.
Juhoon occupied the armchair across the room, saying nothing, simply watching everyone the way he always did.
The apartment carried on around them exactly as it had a minute ago.
Yet suddenly Keonho felt like every sound in the apartment had become distant.
"What?" The question came out a little too quickly.
Seonghyeon frowned. Not suspicious. Just puzzled. "You've barely said anything since we left the venue."
Keonho immediately looked away.
Toward the television.
Toward the rain-darkened window.
Anywhere except Seonghyeon.
"I've said things."
"Like three."
"That's not true."
"It is." The answer came without hesitation.
As if Seonghyeon had already been keeping track.
The realization settled somewhere uncomfortable beneath Keonho's ribs.
"I'm tired."
The explanation sounded reasonable.
At least to him.
Apparently not to Seonghyeon.
"You were tired after practice last week and still talked for three straight hours."
Keonho stared.
Seonghyeon stared back.
Completely unaware of the damage he was doing.
Because that was the thing.
There was no accusation in his voice.
No teasing. No hidden meaning.
Just genuine confusion.
As if he couldn't understand why Keonho had spent the entire evening sitting slightly outside every conversation.
And maybe that was what made it worse.
Because Seonghyeon noticed people.
Always had.
"I’m much more tired than usual," he said again.
This time more quietly.
Seonghyeon studied him. For a second. Then another.
The room felt strangely warm.
Stop looking at me.
The thought arrived immediately.
Uninvited.
Seriously.
Stop looking at me.
Eventually, Seonghyeon leaned back against the couch. "Okay."
Just like that.
No argument. No pushing. No interrogation.
He accepted the answer immediately. Because apparently he trusted it. Or trusted Keonho.
The conversation moved on.
Yet Keonho remained exactly where he was. Staring at the coffee table. Because somehow a thirty-second conversation had left his heartbeat completely out of rhythm.
And the worst part?
The absolute worst part?
Seonghyeon had already forgotten about it.
Keonho knew that.
By now Seonghyeon's attention was probably somewhere else entirely.
Meanwhile Keonho was still thinking about every word.