Chapter Text
Nicholas lets out a sharp huff and slams the refrigerator door hard enough to rattle the plates and cutlery in the nearby cabinets. He hasn’t even taken anything out; he just needs something to punish.
His appetite is gone. His throat feels dry and raw, but the thought of drinking makes his stomach turn—water doesn’t even sound appealing, not with the residual sourness of alcohol clinging to his breath.
“Careful there,” a soft, melodic voice says from the other side of the kitchen. “If you break that, it’ll take the company forever to replace it.”
Nicholas turns around and is greeted by a person who seems to have materialized out of thin air.
Kei stands in the doorway—effortless and impossible to ignore. In a white tank top and pale blue jeans, all bare arms and easy posture, he looks unfairly put together.
The kitchen light reflects warmly on his golden skin and chestnut hair. With the relaxed tilt of his frame, the space around him seems to rearrange itself in his favor.
Furious and immediately feeling defeated, Nicholas releases a heavy sigh.
“I didn’t slam it that hard,” he mutters.
“Sure,” Kei says, pushing off the doorframe and crossing toward Nicholas.
Nicholas tracks him without meaning to as he moves closer. He feels antsy in his own body—itching to do something, anything.
“You okay?” Kei asks as he leans against the kitchen counter.
“Yeah,” Nicholas says. Lying.
The older man makes a soft hum of acknowledgment and then silence settles between them. Kei studies his face—dark-eyed, quiet, more observant than Nicholas cares for.
Nicholas breaks away first, unable to bear the scrutiny of feeling seen.
That was the problem with Kei. He was always looking.
It was flattering. And annoying.
With the mood Nicholas was in, it was pissing him off more than anything.
He had no desire to bask in the glow of Kei’s—or anyone’s—unwavering attention.
His nerves were frayed wires—sparking, on the verge of combustion.
He’s too hurt.
All because of something that happened a couple hours ago.
It had been one of those rare nights the members had all decided to drink together. The living room had filled with bodies—guys sprawled across the floor, others slouched into the couches and chairs—as bottles of soju, sake, and far too much room-temperature beer made their way around the group. It was an uncommon sight; none of them drank often, if at all. Maki had only just come of age this year, and members like Kei and Fuma usually preferred to prioritize their health over alcohol. Nicholas wasn’t much of a drinker either.
He hated the hangovers, and it always did terrible things to his skin.
But tonight was different. It was fun. Tonight, they shared drinks and stories and laughter, their usual inhibitions dampened by alcohol—especially the quieter, more reserved members, like Jo. Sweet, soft-spoken Jo, who had shyly admitted at one point that he was interested in dating a girl from his hometown.
Fuma had warned him to be careful, his tone stern, almost fatherly, while Yuma had simply slapped him on the back and wished him luck.
After Jo’s confession, Maki admitted that there was someone he liked, but it was a little more complicated, and he was still feeling things out. Yuma, forever the champion of bad advice, had immediately goaded him into just going for it with whoever the lucky girl was. Maki only laughed shakily, shaking his head as Yuma continued to egg him on.
Nicholas found himself downing more soju at the thought of it, his head growing hazier by the second. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for Jo or Maki. On the contrary, he was thrilled by their excitement. Neither of them seemed able to suppress their smiles.
The giddiness was almost palpable in the room, heightened by everyone’s tipsiness.
But the whole thing only reminded Nicholas that he was still alone.
That he had yet to confess to the person he liked.
The person who sat across from him with wide eyes and a pretty smile, his cheeks glowing coral pink under the dull overhead light.
Euijoo, the always-dedicated leader of their group, looked handsome in that disarmingly gentle way he always did.
It had been six years. Six years of Nicholas routinely blowing it with the other boy—never getting any further than platonic smiles and a lot of harmless skinship.
And they were best friends.
Nicholas knew he had no one to blame but himself. Well, he could try to blame Euijoo for never making a move, but he would never pin that on him. Between the two of them, Nicholas had always known he would have to be the instigator. That had simply always been their dynamic.
But instead of trying to approach Euijoo with something as safe and harmless as chocolates, like he had when they first met, he would have had to approach him with the riskier offer of—well—himself.
Euijoo had rejected the chocolates. Nicholas wasn’t so confident that he would fare much better.
As they all sat red-cheeked in the sticky heat of an underperforming air conditioner, the most devastating blow of all came.
“I’m actually seeing someone,” Euijoo said, voice low and bashful.
Harua had turned slack-jawed, and Taki had shouted a “WHAT” that was so loud it echoed the voice inside Nicholas’s head.
Dozens of questions began to roll off the members’ tongues. The usual “who is it?” and “where did you meet?” and “what are they like?”
But nobody was asking the question that Nicholas wanted to ask.
Why?
Why would Euijoo be seeing someone?
Why was Nicholas only finding out about it now?
And better yet, why would Euijoo be seeing someone who wasn’t Nicholas?
Then a sudden wave of nausea rolled over him. He extricated himself from the conversation with a feeble excuse about having drunk too much too fast, fleeing to the bathroom. After shutting and locking the door, he spent the next hour dry-heaving before finally sinking onto the closed toilet seat to stew in his misery.
His heart was wrecked before he had even gotten the chance to confess to Euijoo.
A love story over before it had ever begun.
How pathetic.
And now he stood there in the pale amber light of the kitchen, confronted by the oldest member who had likely figured out more than Nicholas ever meant to reveal.
It wasn’t like Nicholas had ever been exactly subtle about his feelings for Euijoo either. He had seen the TikTok edits of himself staring at Euijoo with yearning, lovesick eyes.
Stupidly, he had thought Euijoo had been looking back at him the same way.
“If you don’t want to talk, that’s okay,” Kei says finally, eyes raking over Nicholas in a way that makes Nicholas want to wrap his arms around himself. Any sort of shield would do. He just didn’t want to be perceived. “But when you disappeared earlier, everyone was pretty worried.”
“I’m fine,” Nicholas chokes out, frustrated by how close he sounds to crying.
“Everyone thought you were throwing your guts up in the bathroom,” Kei continues like he hasn’t heard Nicholas. “But you got sick right at the moment Euijoo started talking about his girlfriend...”
“Girlfriend?” Nicholas repeats, not letting Kei finish. His mouth is hanging open.
“GIRLFRIEND?!” he says again, loud enough that Kei jerks forward and slaps a hand over his mouth. Nicholas’s brows pull together in a tight frown.
“The others are in bed already,” Kei whispers, looking apologetic as he slowly pulls his hand away, but he stays close. “And yeah, that’s what it sounded like. I might’ve missed part of it—I kind of got distracted when you ran off…”
“I can’t believe it,” Nicholas mutters, starting to cross to the kitchen table. This was more information than he could possibly comprehend. Was this what it was like to enter a fugue state? “Girlfriend…”
“For what it’s worth, he seems happy,” Kei remarks, almost sounding miserable himself, likely for Nicholas’s sake.
“I just…” Nicholas’s words drift off as he tries to form a coherent thought. “I just don’t understand what we’ve been doing all these years—what I’ve been doing. I really thought he was…” His body starts to tremble before he can stop it.
“Hey,” Kei whispers gently, closer than before. He must have followed him. “I’m sorry, Nico.” Warm hands brush down Nicholas’s biceps as the taller man turns him around and pulls him into his chest.
It feels good for a moment—solid arms, soft skin, another body keeping him in place when his own feels on the verge of falling apart.
When Nicholas finally has his face burrowed into the space where Kei’s neck meets his shoulder, he releases a wretched-sounding sob he didn’t know he was holding in.
“Oh, Nico…” Kei mutters.
“He wasn’t even gay,” Nicholas says wetly, all defenses lost. He wraps his arms tightly around Kei’s middle, fat tears soaking the fabric of the taller man’s shirt.
“He might be bi or pan,” Kei supplies unhelpfully. When Nicholas lets out another sob, Kei’s hands move over his back, slow and careful. “Sorry, sorry. Wrong thing to say…”
“He still didn’t choose me though,” Nicholas chokes out, eyes bleary as he pulls back. He starts to push away, but he has no idea what to do with himself, so he continues to cling to Kei.
“Nico…” Kei says, seemingly lost for words—a rarity for him.
“It’s true,” Nicholas insists, dejected and pained. “Even if he likes guys, he didn’t want...” he chokes on the rest, more tears slipping out.
“Nico…” Kei repeats without anything to follow it up, hands continuously stroking up and down Nicholas’s back.
“I was right there,” Nicholas whispers, eyes unfocused with tears. “I was so fucking obvious too. So transparent—I liked him. I—I really liked him.” He could feel a migraine starting to build behind his eyes. “Just sitting there with stupid fucking hearts in my eyes while he was out finding a girlfriend.”
“If you didn’t tell him, he probably didn’t know,” Kei says gently, lifting a hand to brush away the tears cascading down Nicholas’s cheeks. “He couldn’t choose you if he had no idea.”
“Is that what you’ve done with Fuma?” Nicholas snaps. “Have you told him?”
As soon as the questions leave his lips, he regrets them. He knows it feels a bit cruel. Like he’s trying to prove something—that pursuing a friend—a teammate—is pointless.
“Ah,” Kei presses his lips together momentarily before nodding. “Actually, I did.”
His body becomes slightly rigid in Nicholas’s hold.
“He wasn’t interested.”
This information shakes Nicholas out of his stupor. He stares up at Kei trying to get a read on his expression, which is frustratingly neutral.
He was wildly expressive on stage. Indecipherable in real life.
“When?” Nicholas asks, fingers mindlessly flexing against Kei’s narrow waist. “I thought maybe you two…”
“Probably a year ago?” Kei replies, eyes drifting off to take interest in something else in the room. He takes a hand off Nicholas to rub the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his own hair. “And yeah, I thought maybe we would too. But it wasn’t meant to be, I suppose. Actually, I think he might have a girlfriend.” He pauses to return his hands to Nicholas’s arms and gives them a squeeze.
“I think I made the mistake of thinking I knew him better than I did. I mean, I do know him. But sometimes the way he looked at me or touched me, I just thought that—ah, I guess I read into things wrong.”
“Are you okay?” Nicholas asks, question slipping out before he can stop it.
He forgets why he was annoyed Kei was here in the first place.
Kei’s mouth quirks, but only faintly.
“It was a while ago,” Kei says, as if it’s enough.
“That’s not an answer,” Nicholas prods gently.
Kei’s mouth twitches again, like it’s at battle with another expression taking over. “I just know, now, that not everyone we think is meant for us actually is.”
Nicholas tightens his hold on Kei’s waist.
“Clichés aside,” he says growing quieter, “are you okay?”
Kei is silent for a beat. Then, in a hushed voice, he admits, “I was miserable for ages. Luckily, I had such a packed schedule, I didn’t get a lot of time to think about it. I couldn’t fit in many crying breaks between all those dance practices and photo shoots.”
He offers up a weak smile at his own attempt at a joke.
“Kei hyung…” The honorific that isn’t part of either of their native languages feels funny on his tongue as Nicholas buries his face in the space between Kei’s shoulder and neck once more, breathing in the faint trace of sweat and Kei’s favorite musky cologne.
It was hard to imagine Kei being rejected. By Fuma. Or by anyone.
He’d always figured that once Kei decided he wanted someone, they would inevitably be his.
Because why wouldn’t someone want him back? He was tall and well-built, had delicate features that made him simultaneously pretty and somehow handsome too. A loyal friend. Also, wildly talented on top of it all.
Not that Nicholas had been paying attention.
“I’m really okay now,” Kei insists, dark eyes flickering back and forth between Nicholas’s. “And that’s enough about me anyway. We’re talking about you.”
“There’s not much else to talk about at this point,” Nicholas mumbles, scratching his head. “I pined over the same person for years thinking I had a chance. I’m so dumb I—.” He barely gets the words out before he’s pushing down another broken sob that’s trying to escape.
“You’re not dumb.” Kei places a hand against Nicholas’s face, thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “Don’t say things like that. There’s not a single thing about any of this that makes you dumb.”
“I lost him before I ever had him, hyung.”
“Well, then I’m dumb too,” Kei says, like an act of solidarity.
“At least you tried,” Nicholas replies, the words tasting more bitter than the leftover tang of booze. “I can’t even say anything to him now. I’d just look like an asshole that’s only interested in him after finding out that he’s dating someone else.”
“Oh Nico.” Kei’s lips curl down as his thumb continues to brush against the apple of Nicholas’s cheek. “Oh, sweetheart—your pretty eyes are going to be so swollen.” The tears are gone by then, but his hand stays.
Nicholas sniffles violently.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Kei asks more quietly, his hand sliding down to dab beneath Nicholas’s nose before brushing across his upper lip.
Nicholas doesn’t think anyone has wiped his snot since his mom.
“Anything that might actually make you feel better?” Kei asks.
Nicholas swallows, then quickly shakes his head. “I probably need to sleep for now. We have practice really early tomorrow.” He lightly shakes Kei by the hips. “And why are you even up right now?”
There’s a pause, then Kei gives him a tight-lipped smile—mournful.
“I wanted to check on you,” he admits, letting Nicholas jostle him a little.
“You scared me when you went flying out of the living room earlier. Whether you were actually sick from drinking or… something else, I—” he pauses, then says, “I was worried about you.”
Nicholas blinks up at him, then nods.
“Thanks,” Nicholas mumbles in response, almost embarrassed by how earnest Kei was being.
Maybe he was too raw.
It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve talked about something real or heavy, but it also wasn’t common for them to have conversations like this.
Hell, Nicholas had never been sure that Kei was interested in men before now. He had his suspicions, of course. Especially when he witnessed Kei and Fuma interacting—the two oldest often sharing secret glances, hands brushing along arms or resting on inner thighs with open admiration. But like Nicholas’s own situation with Euijoo, it seems like it was also one-sided.
Nicholas doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse.
It didn’t help, not really. But at least someone else knew what this kind of humiliation felt like.
Even if it didn’t feel good.
“I think I’m going to be a bit of a wreck for a while,” Nicholas admits, unable to meet Kei’s eyes fully still. “I don’t know how I’m going to sleep tonight. I wish I could just pass out.”
“Do you want to watch anime with me until you fall asleep?” Kei asks, offering a small smile.
His hand drifts to Nicholas’s neck to wrap around it on one side.
It’s warm.
Stabilizing.
Nicholas considers the man in front of him for a moment. This isn’t typical for them. Kei isn’t the one that Nicholas usually seeks comfort from, nor is he the one who typically offers a safe haven to Nicholas. Even when it had only been Kei, Nicholas, Euijoo, and Taki, Kei had gravitated more toward Taki. As the youngest of their group of four, Taki had been the most fragile and it was obvious Kei had thought he needed the most protection. That dynamic had been set in motion back in their I-Land days.
Nicholas and Euijoo, on the other hand, had been older and more self-sufficient. Then when Nicholas had first taken notice of Euijoo’s gorgeous smile and kind disposition, he decided who was going to become his best friend and closest confidant.
Euijoo was still his closest friend. That hadn’t changed.
But Nicholas had.
How Nicholas felt toward Euijoo had evolved into something bigger—more amorphous. A monster shaped like attraction and desire, with a hunger for something beyond simple friendship.
And because of all of that, Euijoo wasn’t the one Nicholas could turn to right now.
Nicholas only blamed himself for that.
Which is how he ends up saying, “Wanna watch it in my bed?”
⨳⨳⨳
“So, are you and Kei hooking up?”
Nicholas’s head snaps up from his phone, staring incredulously at Harua, who’s painting his nails.
He glances around quickly, making sure none of the other members are close enough to hear, before giving Harua a gentle kick under the coffee table they’re both hunched over.
“Of course not!” Nicholas responds. “Why would you even ask something like that?”
“Because,” Harua says, giving Nicholas a kick back just for the sake of it before continuing, “I came out for a bottle of water the other night and you were—” he makes a vague lewd gesture, “—were, I don’t know. Sucking on his neck or something? I saw about two seconds of it before I ran back to my room.”
“I wasn’t sucking his neck!” Nicholas protests, fighting to keep his voice down. “And stop doing weird shit with your hands! We were just… he was comforting me. I was upset about something, okay?”
“Upset because he rejected you when you asked him to fuck, or?” Harua asks, front teeth protruding cutely as he gives Nicholas an impish grin.
“I didn’t—fuck, Harua. No, that isn’t at all what that was about. I was not trying to,” he lowers his voice, “do that with Kei.” He’d always assumed Harua was more observant than this.
“Was it about Euijoo then?” Harua asks, ever so casual.
Fucking Harua was too observant.
“I don’t know if I want to talk about it right now,” Nicholas hisses, seriously considering abandoning this manicure-slash-impromptu interrogation.
“Not talking about things is how you end up having a crush on someone who you’ve never bothered to learn the sexual orientation of,” Harua comments. His tone is gentle, but the words land like daggers.
“It never came up,” Nicholas says slowly, trying to disguise the hurt in his voice.
“Or maybe you didn’t want to know?” Harua asks, his tender tone again at odds with how blunt his question is.
“Maybe, Harua,” Nicholas concedes. He’s already grown weary from this exchange. Getting his nails done was supposed to be relaxing. Leave it to Harua to bring up the one thing he didn’t want to think about.
“If it’s any consolation, I was surprised to hear Euijoo talking about a girlfriend too,” Harua says, like something isn’t adding up. He shakes it off. “I hate to see you hurt, Nico. I really do.”
“I knew Euijoo had had girlfriends before. A while back. But I hadn’t heard anything for a long time, so I kind of thought he was out of that phase.”
Harua pauses his work momentarily.
“The phase of what?” he asks. “Dating? Or girls?”
He tilts his head slightly.
“Or did you think he was just… what? Permanently stuck in some lukewarm pool of sweet, platonic love? Which phase is that?”
“Harua, I adore you, but are you trying to start a fight with me?” Nicholas asks, carefully pointing a still-wet nail toward himself.
“You’d never. You love me too much,” Harua says confidently as he pulls one of Nicholas’s middle fingers toward him. At least this way Nicholas can fantasize he’s flipping Harua off.
“That’s up for debate.” Nicholas mutters, tapping his foot against the ground. He stops. “Does everyone know I liked Euijoo?”
He knew his feelings had been obvious, but the idea that every member might have known is making him want to get up and pace the room. Harua’s grip keeps him tethered where he is.
“I don’t think so,” Harua says after giving it some thought. “Probably the ones that like boys. Kei. Me. Maki. Fu—”
“Maki?” Nicholas asks, shocked but not entirely surprised. “Wasn’t he saying he was talking to someone? Is it not a girl like Yuma was thinking?”
Yuma assuming anyone was straight made Nicholas snort.
“He better not be talking to any girls,” Harua mutters, expression turning sour.
Nicholas frowns while studying Harua for a moment. He then erupts into laughter so loud that Harua slaps him on the arm.
Doubling over, he tries not to hold his stomach as he giggles, afraid he might ruin Harua’s hard work. Harua might actually kill him.
“You’re having a great time over there, huh?” Harua says dryly. “Sure, laugh it up, Nico. Seems like you could use one. You’re like a sad, wet cat otherwise.”
With that, Nicholas springs up and glares at Harua. “That was cold as fuck.” He pauses, then wiggles his eyebrows obnoxiously. “So, Maki…”
“Yes, Maki,” Harua replies with a sigh, like they’ve already been through this. They hadn’t. “Nico, he’s only 20.”
“You’re 21?” Nicholas replies, as if he’s doing the math in his head.
“And he’s gotten so tall,” Harua adds breathlessly. “At 20, he might grow some more.”
“And… that’s a bad thing?” Nicholas leans over the coffee table conspiratorially, as if they are sharing top-secret intel.
Harua shakes his head, cheeks tinted pink.
“Ohh. It’s a good thing,” Nicholas confirms, biting his lower lip.
“He’s so big, Nico,” Harua sighs, a faraway look in his eyes.
Nicholas turns his lips down into a grimace.
“Are we still talking about height, or…?”
“He’s so hot, Nico,” Harua whispers, ignoring Nicholas’s last question. “He’s like—ugh, and he looks at me like… I don’t know. He used to remind me of a kicked puppy, but now he—he always looks at me like he wants something, and I—I don’t know. I don’t have words for it…”
Harua trails off, fanning himself with his hand.
“I’m envious,” Nicholas admits before he can stop himself. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m happy for you. And him. But I’m envious. I wish I could—I don’t know—just get out of my head and go find someone else.
It feels like it was so easy for Euijoo to find a girlfriend, and I’m not sure if I want to find a boyfriend. Even if I did, everyone from back home feels too far away and I haven’t kept in touch with most of them like I thought I would.
I think I need to just, like, make out with someone or something.”
As soon as he says it, he knows it doesn’t sound great.
“Do you think that would help?” Harua asks while adding the final touches to one of Nicholas’s pinky nails. “Would it make you feel better?”
“Um. Not sure,” Nicholas says, pulling the finished hand back toward himself to admire Harua’s work. Little designs of fangs, blood drops, and metal black hearts greet him. He beams for the first time in days. “Wouldn’t know who. Or where to begin, where to go. Meeting someone feels… impossible. The logistics are all complicated and risky.”
Harua rests his chin in his palm, thinking.
“What about Kei?” Harua asks after a beat.
“Kei?” Nicholas repeats. “Why are we back on Kei again?”
“I’m almost positive he’s single,” Harua answers with a shrug. “He wouldn’t be as risky as, say, a stranger.”
“Wait, hold up,” Nicholas says, wagging his finger at him. “How do you know Kei likes guys?”
“How do you?” Harua asks, squinting one eye suspiciously.
“Fair point,” Nicholas concedes. “Go on.”
“Thank you,” Harua says, giving a solemn nod. “As I was saying—he definitely thinks you’re pretty.”
“He thinks everyone in our group is pretty,” Nicholas argues. “He gives us all compliments. He’s the oldest. At this point, he probably thinks it’s part of his job.”
“I mean, sure,” Harua says, “but he checks you out. That’s not the same thing. He obviously thinks you’re hot.”
“I am hot,” Nicholas grumbles. “That still doesn’t mean I can just walk up to him and ask for something like that because I’m miserable and heartbroken and hoping it might make me feel better. I can’t ask him to be a rebound.”
“It doesn’t have to be a rebound. You could just see it as an opportunity to make out with a super-hot guy!” Harua says, clapping once like he’s solved the problem.
“We can’t just ask our friends to make out with us, Harua,” Nicholas hisses.
“Why not? I did it with Maki,” Harua says, face blank, like he genuinely doesn’t see the issue. “And you would have done it with Euijoo if you’d gotten the chance.”
Nicholas’s eyelid twitches at the words.
“Kei is sexy.” Harua continues, unbothered. “And he’s probably too busy not to be single. He’s safe. It’s a win, win, win.”
“It sounds more like you want to make out with Kei,” Nicholas says, sneering performatively.
“Maki would kill me,” Harua says cheerfully. “But you’re acting like Kei wouldn’t get anything out of it. He’d also get to make out with a super-hot guy!”
“Well, well, well. Now you’re trying to make out with me too, aren’t you?” Nicholas says, acting playfully smug.
“Maki would bring me back from the dead just to kill me again.” Harua appears positively gleeful at the thought. “I can’t wait to see him when he’s home. I’m going to make out with him. Just because.”
“That’s disgusting,” Nicholas says grumpily, though he can’t hide his smile. “Remind me to put earbuds in then.”
“Whatever. And hey, Nicholas,” Harua says, softer than before. “Maybe it’s something Kei needs too. You never know.”
“Yeah, yeah. I doubt that, but I’ll think about it,” Nicholas says, mostly to shut Harua up. As if he isn’t already thinking about it.
He already knows he’ll keep thinking about it too—probably far more than what’s normal, healthy, or socially acceptable.
But he’d rather die of embarrassment than ever let Kei find out.
⨳⨳⨳
Nicholas can’t stop thinking about making out with Kei.
And the thing is, he knows that makes him a terrible person.
Euijoo is still right there, after all—sitting close enough to brush shoulders with during practice, close enough that Nicholas hasn’t figured out how to look at him without feeling like he’s been splashed with ice water.
On the bright side, at least he’s self-aware.
“This is fucking brutal,” Nicholas says, wiping his lips after chugging half of his water bottle in one go.
“We’re a little over halfway done,” Euijoo says, sounding more hopeful than sure.
Optimistic Euijoo. Smiling to hide his exhaustion.
At least, that’s what Nicholas thinks.
Nicholas is about to respond—just to make some sort of small talk, or crack a joke he thinks might make Euijoo laugh—when he notices that Euijoo is staring down at his phone with a dopey grin, eyes crinkling with how hard he’s smiling.
Biting his lower lip, Nicholas leans toward Euijoo a fraction closer.
It’s not like Nicholas is intentionally trying to peek at Euijoo’s phone.
But it’s not an accident either.
That’s when he spots it. A string of Hangul characters he doesn’t have time to piece together. All he really catches is the heart emoji that follows them.
He leans away and quickly shifts his eyes elsewhere, not wanting to be caught invading Euijoo’s privacy and definitely not wanting to be called out for being nosy. Usually, he wouldn’t have thought twice about looking. But these aren’t normal circumstances.
And, ultimately, maybe he doesn’t want to know.
He didn’t want to see the name of this faceless person who could make Euijoo’s entire face light up in the middle of an exhausting, soul-sucking practice.
For the first time in their friendship, there were parts of Euijoo’s life that Nicholas simply didn’t want to learn.
Nicholas had yet to bring up the whole girlfriend thing to Euijoo yet. But Euijoo hadn’t mentioned it to him either.
Somehow, Nicholas wasn’t sure which part hurt more.
Obviously Euijoo hadn’t felt the need to tell Nicholas that he was seeing someone – let alone dating someone—even though they spent so many of their waking hours together. So Nicholas didn’t feel as if it was his responsibility to start a conversation that he didn’t even want to have.
He didn’t want to pretend. Nothing about bringing up the topic of Euijoo’s newfound love life and having to feign interest in it was appealing.
Trying to steady himself, he scans the room, desperate for anything to focus on other than his own thoughts.
Harua has his limbs all over Taki, despite how sweaty and out of breath they both are. Maki hovers nearby, watching them like a hawk.
Yuma is showing off his biceps to Fuma, who seems to be giving him some kind of workout advice while occasionally glancing at his phone, smiling. Nicholas makes a mental note to check in on that later.
Maybe getting back into the gym would help him stop dwelling on what a pathetic, lovesick idiot he is.
Then his attention catches on Kei and Jo.
They’re too far away for Nicholas to hear them, but Jo is doing a sequence that Nicholas recognizes from their choreography, repeating it more slowly the second time. He says something to Kei, and Kei is watching Jo with razor-sharp focus, listening so intently it’s like they are cut off from the rest of the room.
Kei says something and Jo nods. Kei’s hands move to him—careful at first—then glide down his arms, palms settling above his hips. He moves Jo like a doll, rotating him this way and that, as if trying to press the choreography directly into his body.
In the rehearsal room mirror, Kei’s attention is undivided—consuming in a quiet way that makes the rest of the room disappear.
He moves Jo like he belongs exactly where Kei puts him.
Every touch is deliberate. Exact.
Everything Kei does has purpose. Even when he’s being silly for the cameras, there’s always something measured about him. Nothing is accidental. His words are chosen; his touch never lingers too long or goes too far.
Even his restraint feels intentional.
What if Kei let go?
Nicholas wonders what it would be like to be touched by him.
There’s physical closeness in their friendship. Boundaries that blur here and there. Casual ones.
But it wasn’t the same as what he had with the other members.
They didn’t cuddle much. They didn’t hold hands when the cameras were off. Sometimes, if Nicholas was especially tired, he might rest his head against Kei’s thigh, and Kei would watch him fondly. Though he wouldn’t stroke his hair the way he did with the others. Not off camera.
He knew better.
Or, if Kei found something Nicholas did particularly endearing, he might playfully tackle him and trap him in a tight hug, murmuring about how cute he was into his ear.
In fact, Kei’s physical affection usually involved hurling his whole body at people. The thought makes Nicholas snicker.
In retrospect, it’s not very funny.
He remembers the night after Kei found him in the kitchen, trying to assault the refrigerator. The way Kei had encouraged him to cry against him—a literal shoulder to cry on. The way Kei had gently touched his face. How warm and sweet-smelling he’d been.
So intimate that it made Harua get the wrong idea.
Nicholas wonders what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that kind of touch when it isn’t filled with sympathy.
The thought makes his stomach twist. In a pleasant way.
When they finally curled up on Nicholas’s bed that night—a bed barely big enough for one person, let alone two grown men—they tried to lie shoulder to shoulder but quickly found it impossible. Nicholas ended up in the crook of Kei’s arm, face pressed against bare, soft skin. He had tried desperately to focus on whatever anime Kei had playing on the laptop, one earbud in each of their ears, but he grew too aware of the closeness of it all: the skin-on-skin contact, the way one of his legs had curled instinctively around Kei’s thighs, and how, just as sleep began to settle in, Kei pulled him closer.
Sure, he was heartbroken, but he still had a pulse.
He woke up alone the next morning, and his bed had felt cold ever since.
By the time he notices himself noticing, it’s too late. He glances up to find Kei no longer helping Jo across the room, but looking back at him, faintly amused.
Nicholas’s cheeks flush as he realizes he’s been caught—like, for a second, Kei might actually be able to read his mind—and he’s already starting to look away.
But Kei arches an eyebrow and flashes a smile so radiant Nicholas finds it impossible not to smile back.
Sheepishly, he does.
Then, because Kei has an audience, he sticks out his tongue and does a weird, exaggerated little shoulder shimmy in Nicholas’s direction.
“Why are you making that dumb-looking face, Kei hyung?” Harua shouts from his spot on the floor, still tangled up with Taki, who can’t stop giggling. Maki lingers nearby, pretending to be fascinated by his own fingernails.
Kei shoots Harua a glare and turns to Jo. “Excuse me while I just—,” he says, loud enough for Nicholas to hear.
The next thing Nicholas knows, Kei is sprinting in Harua’s direction. Harua has already flung Taki aside and is skirting around the edge of the room like a trapped mouse.
Nicholas laughs. It’s a real, genuine laugh that comes from somewhere deep in his chest. The kind that makes the other members ask if it’s illegal for him to laugh at home.
And Kei is across the room imitating it—loud and obnoxious.
He feels lighter than he has in days.
And then Nicholas wonders what it would be like to make out with Kei.
⨳⨳⨳
Nicholas couldn’t stop thinking about making out with Kei.
It was worst at night—lying in bed, trying to sleep, with nothing to distract him. He was at the mercy of his own intrusive thoughts.
Thoughts of having Kei in a myriad of ways crossed his mind.
Kissing Kei. Touching Kei. Fucking Kei. Being fucked by Kei. Kei taking him on a couch. On a bed. Against a kitchen counter. Bent over a table. Under the spray of the shower—all slick, hot, and steam-filled.
Every spot was an opportunity for him to imagine Kei in a compromising position. Clothing optional.
Nicholas knew it was questionable. Dubious morality and all that.
He also knew he was still avoiding Euijoo. Whenever Euijoo tried to start a conversation, Nicholas found an excuse to leave. When Euijoo smiled at him, Nicholas smiled back, but it never quite reached his eyes. And when Euijoo texted, Nicholas replied with clipped messages or, at most, a single emoji.
There was no way Nicholas was already over Euijoo. That would take a miracle. His feelings for Euijoo had been such a massive part of his adult life—too long-lasting to just fade away after a few weeks of trying to will them away.
But that was a separate matter.
Euijoo is Euijoo.
And Kei is… well.
Kei is a fantasy.
Nicholas had met Kei around the same time he had met Euijoo. Lankier back then, Kei was already stupidly handsome at twenty-two. A marathon runner who’d traded his running shoes for a career in entertainment.
And Kei was good. Kei was really good. Good in a way most people weren’t when they started in their twenties.
Nicholas had also spent years being an athlete, though nothing on the level of Kei’s running. He hadn’t been on track for any athletic scholarships.
They were both guys from foreign countries trying to survive a soul-draining competition while speaking a language neither of them were fluent in. Their situations weren’t exactly the same, but they were close enough that Nicholas felt like Kei was a kindred spirit.
But Kei was one of those infuriating people who got good too fast. He excelled in ways that made him feel farther and farther out of reach. Sometimes he even pissed Nicholas off with how arrogant he could be—not that it wasn’t earned. And despite that, he and Nicholas had built something real between them, a genuine friendship that existed outside of just being two people stuck competing side by side.
Even so, Kei had become something else.
Kei had become the standard. Unattainable and untouchable.
Nicholas became aware of how the other boys in the competition flocked to Kei almost immediately. He’d been one of them too, even if he hadn’t realized it at the time. But Kei was cool. A little flashy at times, but mostly good-natured, and almost always well-intentioned. Everyone wanted him as their older brother. Or they had a big, useless crush on him.
Boys like Taki. Nicholas was never completely sure which category Taki fell into.
Nicholas had thought it was some kind of intense puppy-love thing when the much younger boy latched onto Kei. Like a kid making heart eyes at a teacher.
But then he saw how sweet Kei was with Taki. How, for whatever reason—whether he meant to or not—Kei had turned Taki into a central part of his world. Always squeezing Taki’s plump cheeks. Endlessly doting on him. To the point that Kei had nearly gotten booted from the competition because he just couldn’t stop talking to the kid.
Hell, Nicholas probably would’ve had a crush on Kei too if he were Taki.
Or maybe he was projecting.
Sometimes it made Nicholas ache to think about what it might’ve been like to be about three years younger—young enough to be taken care of like that. Maybe even Japanese.
When the competition didn’t work out for any of them—not Nicholas, Kei, Taki, or Euijoo—they became a small group of four with a shared dream of debuting in Japan, and suddenly Nicholas and Euijoo were the odd ones out.
Not that either Kei or Taki or anyone ever treated them like outsiders. But it was now Euijoo and Nicholas, trying to get by in a language neither of them knew.
Nicholas was pretty sure he was going to forget Mandarin one day.
And somewhere along the way, he found himself paying more attention to Euijoo—how unfairly cute he was when he got tongue-tied over a word or phrase in Japanese.
Nicholas had struggled with the language himself, but it was so much more adorable when Euijoo did.
Then Nicholas would catch himself on the receiving end of Euijoo’s doe-eyed stare or a smile so sweet it left him just as tongue-tied.
He’d known he wanted to be friends with Euijoo the moment he first laid eyes on him. But after becoming his friend, he realized he wanted more.
They were so close. If one of them was somewhere, people just expected the other to be there too.
Nicholas told Euijoo everything. Stories of his childhood. Things about his family. Embarrassing stories from his school days. Everything.
Except for the whole being in love with him. Or whatever.
Now Euijoo had a girlfriend, so he didn’t exactly tell Nicholas everything either. So that was cool.
10 out of 10. He loved that for them.
And Nicholas was totally going to deal with that like a normal, well-adjusted adult.
So Nicholas kept thinking about making out with Kei.
Would Kei even be interested? Really?
God, why was Nicholas even entertaining this idea now?
Harua had said that Kei checked him out—something Nicholas was still pretty skeptical of. Did Kei actually think he was hot?
Or was Harua just mistaking the way Kei looked at the members—all sentimental and fond—for something more?
But if Harua said that, surely, he was basing it on something.
Harua was a menace, but he wouldn’t intentionally lead Nicholas astray.
He didn’t say Kei checked out everyone. Harua said Kei checked out Nicholas specifically.
Well, Kei had been checking out Fuma too at one point. Nicholas knew that much.
And Fuma and Nicholas were not alike.
Then again, Euijoo and Kei weren’t anything alike.
Nicholas realizes—
Oh, fuck.
Nicholas really, really can’t stop thinking about making out with Kei.
⨳⨳⨳
They are wrapping up dance practice when Taki says to Nicholas,
“Rua and I are going to check out an omurice place if you want to come with.”
“No thanks,” Nicholas responds, slinging his bag—overpacked but effortlessly stylish—over his shoulder. He’s ready to go home, strip out of his sweat-soaked clothes, and take a shower that uses so much hot water that it pisses off his dormmates.
Plus, he doesn’t want omurice. The last time he had it, it was anxiety-inducing. Trying to fold the egg with cameras shoved in his face had been more stressful than actually performing for an audience.
“Kei hyung is coming,” Harua remarks as he walks past Nicholas to join Taki. He gives Nicholas a toothy grin, one corner of his lip curled up like a mischievous rabbit.
“I mean, I guess I could eat,” Nicholas says offhandedly without missing a beat.
“We should probably get going,” Kei remarks, placing a hand on the small of Nicholas’s back.
Nicholas practically jumps out of his skin.
The touch itself isn’t unusual, but Nicholas really needs to talk to Kei about his habit of appearing out of thin air.
“It’s not too far,” Taki says with a clap of his hands. “The protocol hyungs are going to follow along, so we can walk there.”
Walk?
Walk?
They’d just spent the last however many hours dancing their asses off. Nicholas can’t believe he agreed to this. He glances at Kei, who’s still by his side.
Well, he can believe it, actually.
Harua is looking at him smugly—like he knows exactly what he is thinking.
Obnoxious little imp.
“Did you ask Juju?” Taki asks, turning to Harua as they head down to the first floor of the company building.
“Ah,” Harua says, glancing back at Nicholas before readjusting the bag on his shoulder. “He and Fuma-san had other plans. Some sort of leaders’ stuff, I guess.”
Kei’s palm stays on Nicholas’s back as they exit the building. At the mention of Euijoo—or maybe Fuma—his hand shifts, slipping around Nicholas’s waist to pull him closer. It’s warm. Reassuring.
But Nicholas wonders which one of them Kei is trying to comfort.
Harua loops his arm with Taki’s as they stroll a little way ahead, and Nicholas vaguely wonders if he heard the wrong name ending with ‘-aki’ when Harua had been gushing the other day.
No.
That doesn’t make sense.
Taki isn’t twenty. He’s also not all that tall.
“Should we do the same?” Kei asks, bumping into Nicholas’s side as they meander down the street. Even with a destination in mind, the walk feels wonderfully aimless. That might have something to do with the company.
He removes his hand from Nicholas’s back, only to loop their arms together instead.
Nicholas rolls his eyes, even though he enjoys it.
“We’re not as cute as them,” Nicholas mutters, leaning into Kei’s side.
“That’s because Harua is short,” Kei says, raising his voice slightly. “Everything he does is cute because he’s so tiny.”
“I heard that!” Harua declares loudly, never sparing them a backward glance.
Nicholas hears him make a snarky remark about Kei needing to be careful not to bump his head on tree branches.
Kei smiles to himself, satisfied.
Shaking his head, Nicholas smiles along, pretending he doesn’t notice.
“Harua is going to kick your ass one of these days,” Nicholas says, glancing at Kei’s profile as they make their way down another side street.
All this walking isn’t so bad after all.
Kei makes a dismissive sound, his eyes glittering in the glow of the streetlamps – like he always knows how to find his light. “I’ll just use Maki as a human shield,” he says with a wink.
“That’s—” Nicholas presses his lips together, nodding. “That’s a really solid plan, actually. No notes.”
When they finally arrive at the restaurant, Taki and Harua are already chattering away as Harua pulls out his phone to snap photos of the storefront. Kei lets his arm slip from Nicholas’s.
“Do you want to take pictures, too?” he asks, nodding toward the building.
Nicholas shakes his head.
Then he reconsiders.
“Wanna take a selfie?” he asks, already digging through his bag. He finds three tubes of the same lip gloss, an unopened Dior hand cream, and a condom he doesn’t remember putting there—probably expired—before finally pulling out his phone.
“After sweating for hours?” Kei asks, sounding somewhat incredulous. “It won’t be our best look, but yeah, sure.”
Nicholas doesn’t mention that he wasn’t planning on posting them anywhere.
He opens the camera. Standing on his toes so that he can get closer to Kei’s height, he manages to angle it so both of their faces fit in the frame. Kei huffs a quiet laugh and bends slightly to meet him there. Cheek to cheek.
Nicholas tries not to think too much about the proximity or the heat radiating off Kei’s body as he snaps a series of quick photos, adjusting the angle multiple times as an excuse to get closer.
When he’s satisfied, he pockets his phone. He doesn’t dare look at them right now.
He’ll look at them later.
Maybe when he’s alone. In bed.
Harua and Taki have disappeared. They must have already gone inside. Nicholas hadn’t realized he’d spent that long taking pictures.
Kei holds the door open, lingering like he’s waiting for him.
“You know, I didn’t really want omurice tonight,” he says with a shrug. “I just came because Harua said you were coming.”
Nicholas exhales a soft laugh at that, like it doesn’t tilt his whole world off balance.
“Oh,” he says. “That’s… nice.”
The tiniest hint of a frown flickers across Kei’s face, but he keeps smiling.
God. Nicholas sounds like a total asshole.
He walks through the open door but stops when he’s next to Kei.
Glancing sideways at him, he says, “For the record, I only came because Harua said you were coming, too.”
Kei blinks at him, his mouth parting slightly.
Then Nicholas is off, heading toward the table where Harua and Taki are sitting before Kei can respond.
He slides into the booth next to Harua while Kei hangs back for a moment longer to greet the server before joining Taki.
Harua drops his chin onto Nicholas’s shoulder as soon as he’s seated, peering at the menu like it’s somehow different from his own. “What are you getting?” he asks.
“Well, since it’s an omurice place,” Nicholas says, scanning the options, “probably omurice?”
He feels Kei’s attention linger on them from across the table.
“Smart ass,” Harua grumbles, jabbing Nicholas lightly in the side with his elbow.
They fall into easy conversation for a minute or two before the server comes to take their order. They all end up ordering variations of the same dish, since that’s what the restaurant specializes in—but before the server can leave, Kei stops him.
“Excuse me,” he says politely. “He doesn’t like vegetables.” He gestures toward Nicholas. “Could you please make his without?”
“What a gentleman,” Harua whispers, low enough that only Nicholas can hear.
Nicholas jabs him in the side in return.
“Don’t,” Nicholas warns.“No fighting over there,” Taki says, fiddling with his freshly bleached hair, which he adamantly insists is “beige.” Maki has been trying to teach him the English word for “blond” but Taki has politely declined any additional lessons, saying that he is no longer in school—he’s a song-and-dance man now.
Kei reaches over to brush Taki’s bangs off his face. The touch is almost like second nature, and Taki preens under his attention.
“This color suits you,” Kei comments, fixing Taki’s hair until he’s satisfied. “Cute.”
Taki flashes a perfect smile, all uniform white teeth.
Nicholas gets lost in how easily the two of them move around each other.
Under the table, Harua absentmindedly plays with Nicholas’s fingers.
The conversation flows comfortably. They talk about their favorite bits of choreography. Taki mentions that his mother has been calling him more than usual. Kei says he’ll give her a call when he has time, just to reassure her Taki is doing okay—that he’s safe and healthy. Harua brings up Maki at least fifty times before their meals arrive.
Nicholas nods along, not having much to add.
His eyes keeps drifting back to Kei. They settle on the shade of his castaneous hair—the color almost seems natural. The slight slope of his petite nose. The way his lips round into a pout on certain words when he speaks.
Nicholas has never noticed that before.
He wonders what his mom would say if Kei gave her a call.
Across the table, Kei glances up.
His lips quirk upward.
Fuck.
Caught again.
Before Nicholas has time to react, he’s saved by their meals arriving, plates sliding onto the table between them.
He turns his attention to the food, picking at it with as much interest as he can manage.
Across from him, Kei is chatting away with Taki, occasionally brushing a stray grain of rice from Taki’s lip or cheek.
It’s adorable.
It’s whatever.
It doesn’t even matter.
Nicholas’s stomach twists. It’s unpleasant.
When he’s finished eating, he pushes his food around his plate. Harua pesters him to eat more, but he shakes his head.
He should be on a diet anyway.
“Turn this way, Nico,” Kei says from across the table.
Letting out an audible sigh, Nicholas turns toward Kei. He’s tired, his clothes sticking to his body from leftover sweat, and he’s full in a way that makes him feel like he needs to jog around the block.
Reaching over, Kei hesitates for a moment, before gently swiping his thumb across the corner of Nicholas’s mouth.
“Sauce,” he says quietly, popping his thumb into his mouth to clean it.
For a fleeting moment, his body tenses, his posture straightening suddenly.
But then he quickly relaxes, diverting his attention back over to something Taki is saying.
Harua almost snaps one of Nicholas’s fingers off under the table.
Nicholas is still very much in need of that shower when he gets home.
He takes a cold one.
⨳⨳⨳
The next time Nicholas finds Kei alone, he’s back at their dorm on a day off.
Most of the other members are taking advantage of their free time by visiting their families. Harua had invited Euijoo and Nicholas to his family’s home for yakiniku since neither of them could easily see their families in South Korea and Taiwan.
Euijoo had accepted the invitation. Because of course he had. Nicholas had declined, making an excuse about needing the day to sleep, but had thanked Harua for thinking of him nonetheless.
Harua, who normally might have insisted, doesn’t ask twice.
Nicholas is on his way to the kitchen to make ramen when he freezes in his tracks at the sight of Kei lounging on the couch in the common area. The TV is on, some American movie playing without subtitles, but Kei seems more interested in scrolling through his phone, completely zoned out.
To Nicholas’s dismay, Kei is wearing one of those damned tank tops again—this time in black. It shows far too much arm. He also has on loose, comfortable gray sweatpants that he somehow manages to make look far better than they have any right to.
Nicholas thinks about how, in his daily life, he has to try so much harder than Kei does. Every article of clothing he picks is a strategic choice. Styling his hair—especially now that it’s getting longer and shaggier—takes ages. At least now that it’s back to black, the stylists didn’t have to burn his scalp into oblivion with constant bleach jobs. But everything else—his accessories, his shoes, his make-up—it’s all carefully decided.
It’s not that he thinks he looks bad. He knows he looks good. But it’s the kind of good that takes time and effort.
Well, today he hadn’t put in much effort at all. He is wearing a baggy band t-shirt and faded army green sweatpants, but he hadn’t expected to see anyone.
On any other day, he could look hot as fuck if he felt like it.
Kei, meanwhile, seems effortless all the time. Nicholas knows better, of course. That kind of effortless takes work, and it shows in his forearms, in the definition of his biceps, both on display as he sprawls out lazily.
Nicholas leans against the wall, taking him in.
“Zoning out while staring at me again?” Kei asks, and Nicholas is jolted out of his thoughts.
Nicholas scoffs, pushing off the wall like he hadn’t just been caught doing something embarrassing.
“No,” he replies. Lying. “What are you doing here?”
“No time to go anywhere. My schedule was too packed,” Kei says simply. “You’ve been acting weird lately, you know that?” Kei drops his phone beside him and pats the couch cushion next to him. “Wanna watch TikToks?”
Nicholas hastily makes the decision to abandon his quest for ramen and throws himself onto the couch beside Kei.
“Y’know, if you just downloaded the app, you wouldn’t have to bum TikToks off other people.” Despite his words, Nicholas pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens the app without thinking.
“Don’t feel like it.” Kei pouts and snuggles into the couch beside him.
“You could finally be up on the latest trends!” Nicholas teases, scrolling past the first few videos that pop up. Mostly dance challenges that they’d probably have to do eventually, and he really doesn’t want to think about work right now. He just wants to be lazy.
“Too old for all that,” Kei mumbles, dropping his head onto Nicholas’s shoulder as Nicholas pauses on a clip of a fuzzy black kitten with dark eyes, meowing fiercely. It looks like a tiny panther. “Ha. That’s you.”
“What?!” Nicholas recoils. “No way! I’m at least a… full-grown cat! A tough one, too. One that’s really fuckin’ cool.”
“So cute,” Kei says with a soft laugh, nuzzling closer.
The feeling of skin on skin is distractingly nice, and Nicholas is hyperaware of it.
He craves more of that feeling, and the realization makes him fight the urge to squirm. Instead, he stays very still, afraid that if he moves too much, Kei might move away.
“I’m not cute,” Nicholas grumbles. “And you’re not old, so stop saying dumb shit like that all the time.”
“I am, though,” Kei protests softly, trying to shrug despite how their bodies are pressed together. “I mean, everyone says I am. And I know I am as far as the group is concerned.”
Nicholas lets out a quiet snort. “You have more stamina than most of the younger guys.” He pauses, thinking for a moment, then asks, “Wait. Are you… are you self-conscious about your age?”
At this, Kei lifts his head from Nicholas’s shoulder, and Nicholas mourns the loss at once. He could kick himself for asking that question. Especially now, when Kei is being unusually open with him.
“Not really,” Kei says. “I wouldn’t change anything. Truly. I just wish we could have started doing this,” he gestures vaguely, “earlier. That’s all.” He swallows, like the words are thick in his throat. “Maybe I wish I wasn’t so close to thirty already while we’re just starting to gain some momentum.”
Nicholas shifts onto his left side so that he’s facing Kei. He reaches out, stops to reconsider, then settles on placing his hand on Kei’s thigh, giving it what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze.
“I think it’s perfect,” Nicholas says finally. “All of it. Were we ready to debut earlier? Maybe. You definitely could have. Not so sure about Euijoo, Taki, and me. We needed time. Especially Taki. He was so young. So I think it worked out the way it was meant to. And I love all the members we gained along the way. Even Harua.” Kei chuckles, and he feels smug at that.
“And hey,” he says more softly now. “You’re perfect. You know that, right? Right here and right now. At the age you are. You’re the…” he pauses to find the word he wants in Japanese. “The destination? Euijoo and Fuma are the leaders, and they’re phenomenal, obviously. Couldn’t ask for better. But you’re different than that. You’re like the destination of a journey the rest of us are on.”
He scratches his forehead then takes Kei’s hand into his, momentarily playing with his fingers. It was nice when Harua did it with him. Maybe Kei will like it too.
“And it’s, uh, a great journey. The destination is beautiful. I’m happy it worked out this way.”
He knows he’s been rambling, and he’s sure that he’s beet red right now. Kei squints at Nicholas suspiciously, sitting up so that his face is closer to Nicholas’s. The proximity is dizzying.
“Did you just indirectly call me… beautiful?” Kei asks, his expression unreadable enough that Nicholas has no idea what he is thinking.
“This isn’t my first language,” Nicholas says, for lack of a better response. He pulls his hand back and raises both in the air. “I’m not good at expressing myself.”
Kei keeps looking at Nicholas like he isn’t quite sure what to make of him. “I don’t know about that.”
“It’s what I think,” Nicholas replies, turning away from Kei and shrugging—trying to look casual. “I say you’re handsome all the time. I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised.”
“Never beautiful, though,” Kei says with a whistle, then he laughs it off.
“It’s what I think,” Nicholas repeats begrudgingly.
Kei narrows his eyes at him.
“That was a lot of nice things you said just now,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you sure you’re Nicholas? You’re not an imposter, are you?”
“That wasn’t Nicholas,” he says matter-of-factly. “That was Yixiang.”
“Yixiang,” Kei repeats. Nicholas likes the sound of his given name on Kei’s tongue. “I see.”
“Yup.” Nicholas crosses his arms over his chest.
Kei lays his hand on Nicholas’s thigh, wiggling his fingers. An invitation. Unfolding his arms, Nicholas starts to play with them again.
“In that case,” Kei says, as though seriously considering it, “the person who was being all self-conscious about their age was Yudai. How embarrassing for that guy.”
It isn’t often that Nicholas hears Kei refer to himself by his birth name, and something about it makes him smile.
“We’re even then,” Nicholas says, glancing up at Kei who is already smiling at him. “You saw me crying my eyes out over a boy.”
“Not just some boy,” Kei says softly, smile slipping. He tilts his head to side thoughtfully. It’s endearing. For a moment, he reminds Nicholas of a puppy.
“I’m not being mean!” Nicholas says quickly. He would never talk poorly of Euijoo, even with his feelings hurt. He knows this was all self-inflicted. “I just didn’t want to dwell on it too much. Of course he’s not just some boy to me. But I’m trying to get over it—him.”
“Yeah?” Kei asks, searching Nicholas’s face. “How’s that going?”
“Uh, well. We were both invited to go to Harua’s house.” Nicholas shrugs. “He went, and… here I am.”
“I avoided Fuma too for a while,” Kei says with a faraway look, as if he’s trying to recall a distant memory. “I thought it would be impossible with us working together, but now I just see him and it’s…” He pauses, searching for the right word. “Fine.”
“I’m going to be honest, hyung. That doesn’t sound all that promising,” Nicholas responds. He traces a finger over the tender skin of Kei’s wrist.
Kei chuckles. “I won’t pretend it’s easy to watch someone you like be happy with someone that isn’t you. I know that’s probably not reassuring, but I care about you too much to lie—even if it’s not what you want to hear.”
“That’s nice. I think?”
“Eh. I try.”
“I—uh, well, Harua figured everything out too. About the whole Euijoo thing. Just like you did.”
Kei hums in acknowledgment. Nicholas’s leg starts to bounce where it’s propped against the coffee table.
“I think that’s why he didn’t push about me going back to his house with them. But yeah, he kind of roasted me about the whole thing.”
This time, Kei snorts a laugh. “Sorry, sorry. That’s just such a him thing to do.”
“I know. People think he’s so cute and sweet, but then he opens his mouth, and I swear it’s like there’s a demon waiting to crawl out,” Nicholas says, shaking his head with a fond smile. “He made me feel stupid, but not in a bad way—if that makes sense. But then I thought if Euijoo is out there totally oblivious to how I felt and living his best life, then maybe I should be doing the same. Like I should be putting myself out there too. What’s the point of just sitting around feeling sorry for myself, y’know? I’m only ever going to be this young and this hot once.”
The words make him feel a little ridiculous, but he clings to the bravado anyway.
“You are,” Kei says simply.
“What?” Nicholas asks. Maybe Kei is simply agreeing he’s youn—
“Hot.”
Nicholas is desperate to believe him. He also thinks he might be having heart palpitations.
“That all sounds very liberating,” Kei says, using his free hand to play with a hole in his sweatpants. “Is that what you want?”
“Probably,” Nicholas says with a shrug, pushing his finger through the hole, brushing against Kei’s knee.
“So, what does that look like for you?” Kei asks, his hand twitching where it rests against Nicholas’s.
“Good question,” he says with a wobbly laugh.
His teeth indent his lower lip as he thinks for a moment.
“Actually, my conversation with Harua started because he asked if you and I were, uh...” Nicholas trails off, not wanting to say it outright—that would be mortifying—so he settles on, “a thing.”
“Huh,” Kei says, raising an eyebrow and sitting up slightly. “A thing. How’d he come up with that?”
“He saw us in the kitchen the other night. When you were checking on me.” Nicholas gulps. He knows he is skirting what he actually wants to say—he’s trying to find the right words to say it out loud. God, this is going to go horribly. Kei’s definitely going to think he is pathetic and weird. Maybe he’d never talk to him again.
No, no—that wouldn’t happen. Kei is a peacemaker in the group. Maybe he’d avoid him for a while, like he did with Fuma. But surely things will go back to normal eventually.
“Wow. That’s flattering.” Kei says, eye widening as he nods. “Harua thinks I can pull you.”
“What?”
Nicholas needs to stop saying that.
“Good for me—or, well. Good for the me in Harua’s vivid imagination.” He huffs quietly, like he’s amused with himself. “Well done, Yudai.”
He pulls away just enough to pat himself on the back.
Nicholas gapes at him. “Good for you?” He repeats, astonished. “No way. Good for me!”
“What do you mean, good for you?” Kei asks, tilting his head slightly, like he’s trying to follow the logic rather than actually challenge it. “Harua thinks I’ve seduced a gorgeous younger man.”
His mouth curves, faintly. “It’s very scandalous, Nicholas.”
“Yeah, sure,” Nicholas scoffs with an exaggerated eye roll. “On the other end of that is me seducing a sexy older guy. Which is… amazing. For me.”
Then he adds, “Not that five years is bad. It’s not even a big age gap.”
“Hm.” Kei’s gaze flickers over him—quick, deliberate—before he shifts his attention elsewhere again. His neck is a little pinker than before.
He clears his throat.
“I suppose you’re right.”
Nicholas feels wildly pleased with himself.
“And you could, you know,” Nicholas says. He shifts restlessly in his spot. But this situation is a monster of his own making, and he’s determined to see it through.
“Could what?” Kei questions, sinking back into the couch as he watches him with a look Nicholas can’t quite decipher.
He wets his bottom lip—more out of nerves than anything—and notices the way Kei’s gaze flickers to his mouth before returning to his eyes.
“Pull me,” he says, so quietly it barely sounds like a real request at all. More like a thought that had slipped free.
The words hang between them, fragile and impossible to take back.
Nicholas lets his gaze drift over Kei’s face, not lingering on any one detail for long, just enough to steady himself. He’s suddenly acutely aware of how close they are. His finger is still hooked through the hole in Kei’s sweatpants.
“Nico,” Kei says, like he’s warning them both.
But the words are already out, too honest to fold back into a joke.
“No pressure though,” Nicholas says, giving Kei an out before he has to ask for one. After all, he’s always been better at rejecting himself first.
“Hold on, Nico.” Kei leans in, his hand settling at the back of Nicholas’s neck—careful, avoiding his hair. “What are you saying? I just need to know what you mean,” he says, quieter now.
“I think it’s pretty obvious, hyung…” Nicholas mumbles.
“If you’re looking for—” Kei starts, then stops. He exhales.
“I’m not a stand-in for Euijoo.”
His hand falls away from Nicholas’s neck, like he’s only just become aware of the contact.
It stings. Nicholas sits in it for a moment.
“That’s not what this is. You’re nothing like Euijoo,” he says, voice unsteady.
Kei nods, looking away at the TV like he’s trying to focus on it—then glances back.
“You’re not some kind of consolation prize, hyung,” Nicholas says, softer now. “You’re not a stand-in for anyone.”
“And… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Nicholas admits, pulling his hand back into his lap.
Kei opens his mouth to respond—then closes it again.
“I’m really hoping you don’t also have a girlfriend you forgot to mention,” Nicholas mutters, rubbing the back of his neck with a shaky laugh.
Kei lets out a quiet laugh, but it fades quickly, his brows drawing together. “No, Nico. I don’t have a girlfriend. I—” He pauses. “We wouldn’t be talking about this if I did.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Nicholas says, lips trembling. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Silence settles between them for a moment.
Kei tugs absently at the ends of his hair, his gaze drifting over Nicholas like he’s not quite sure what to make of him anymore.
“I’m thinking about it,” he says finally, quiet.
Nicholas shifts closer, turning toward him.
He wants to touch him. Take his hand. But he doesn’t.
“Do you ever get lonely, hyung?” Nicholas asks instead.
Kei tips his head back against the couch, still watching him. He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “What kind of question is that?”
“I’m just curious,” Nicholas says. “But you don’t have to answer unless you want to.”
“Of course I get lonely, Nico,” Kei says. He hooks a pinky with Nicholas’s, glancing briefly at their hands before looking back. “I’m human.”
“I know,” Nicholas murmurs, nudging their pinkies together.
“I do get lonely,” Kei adds, softer. “Often.”
Nicholas unhooks their fingers, turning Kei’s hand over, fitting their palms together.
“Do you…” Nicholas shifts a little closer. “Do you ever think about me?”
Kei huffs out a laugh—but it doesn’t land. His brows knit together a second later, like he’s weighing something.
He shakes his head—
and Nicholas’s heart drops.
Then Kei nods. Barely there. If Nicholas wasn’t watching closely, he might’ve missed it.
Color rushes up Kei’s neck. Or maybe it never left.
“I see,” Nicholas says, like that’s enough. He’s trying for composure and failing. “That’s really good to know, actually.”
“Is it?” Kei asks, still studying him, like he’s taking him in, piece by piece.
“I think about you constantly,” Nicholas blurts. “I… like being near you. Talking to you.”
“I like it when you touch me,” he trails off.
Kei stills.
“Oh…”
“Yeah,” Nicholas says, laughing awkwardly.
Kei lets out a small laugh too—lighter, but unsteady. “And… are you wondering in what way I think about you?” he asks, sitting up.
Nicholas smiles despite himself. “I was dying to ask that, actually.”
Kei snorts.
Then he lingers there for a moment, like he’s deciding something.
His hand lifts—
then pauses, just short of touching him.
Then he reaches for Nicholas.
Carefully, he takes Nicholas’s arm in his hands. “Is this okay?” he asks, fingers brushing lightly over his skin.
“Yeah,” Nicholas answers.
Kei traces along the scar that stretches across Nicholas’s forearm, a shiny leftover thing from a childhood accident. He often forgets it’s there—it’s been a part of him for so long—so he doesn’t expect anyone else to pay attention to it.
Kei’s thumb stills there for a beat.
Then he leans in—
and presses a tentative kiss to it.
Once. Then again.
Nicholas exhales softly, unable to look away.
Kei presses one last quiet kiss to Nicholas’s wrist, then releases him.
“That’s how I think of you,” Kei says.
“Like that.”