Chapter Text
0.5. When you walk in on the resident couple making out and get slapped with a reality check
It takes Keonho walking in on Martin and Juhoon making out on the couch to lose the biggest shit he’s lost in a very long time.
In his defence, Keonho thinks he had good reason to crash out. They weren't even JUST kissing; they were making out like their life depended on it! If Keonho had been in another room, he'd have thought they were straight up going at it in the living room, with all the sloppy lip locking and sounds of wet smacking. Jesus Christ, do people have no semblance of basic decency nowadays?
And–and he's already standing right here, yet they're still kissing! Keonho doesn't know what's more offensive; the fact that Juhoon and Martin are so engrossed in their little session they didn't even notice Keonho's presence, or the fact that even if they noticed they didn't bother to stop. Both are equally as terrible.
So obviously, in order to make his presence known, Keonho lets out the most ear curdling, anguished scream ever screamed and falls to his knees, covering his eyes in agony. “Why are you guys making out on the couch,” is what Keonho would've asked if he were even a smidge more distinguished, but alas, he is not, so acting like a dramatic bitch comes naturally.
For a few seconds, time freezes in place.
Finally (finally!) acknowledging Keonho's presence at the sound resembling that of a fucking banshee, Martin and Juhoon stop eating each other’s faces (temporarily, Keonho fears), both turning to stare distastefully at Keonho, who is currently still kneeling at the side of the sofa.
Juhoon, from where he's perched on Martin lap, contorts his expression into an impressive mix of pure confusion and disgust, but with his own bitten lips, red and swollen, Keonho thinks that Juhoon has no right to judge him this way, while Martin levels him with a blank stare.
“Keonho-yah,” Juhoon starts slowly, “Do I need to call the mental institution again?”
Below him, Martin nods grimly. Ugh! Keonho has never once been to any mental institute, and he certainly doesn't need one now, he fumes silently. He'll get back at them later in the form of stealing Juhoon's novels that he has no use for and Martin's new ps5 game that he's totally gonna play with Seonghyeon.
Okay, Keonho admits he may be overdoing his hissy fit just a little. However, self consciousness does nothing to quell the pent-up frustration bubbling in the pit of his stomach. “If you guys don't stop committing PDA in broad daylight, especially in front of me, I'm going to start foaming at the mouth, and you both are going to be responsible for my funeral,” pants Keonho, still winded from his anguished screaming stint. Seriously, he is going to start growling and running around like a feral animal the next time the universe decides to bestow more exhibitionism loving freaks upon him.
Rolling his eyes, Juhoon entangles himself from Martin's arms to squint suspiciously at Keonho. “Says you, you Seonghyeon hogging hypocrite,” Juhoon sniffs haughtily, pointing a dainty finger in Keonho's general direction. Keonho decides to assume that something on the wall behind him is what triggered Juhoon instead of him.
Momentarily stunned by Juhoon's comeback, Keonho stares at him, mouth agape.
Hey, Keonho's brain supplies helpfully. Hey, I think Juhoon just said something about us hogging Seonghyeon. Keonho takes a good few moments to process the meaning of the whole sentence, namely, “hypocrite” and “Seonghyeon hogging”. A flash of indignation passes through Keonho. He ain’t no hypocrite, and what does Juhoon mean by hogging Seonghyeon, when he’s the one lip locking with Martin on the couch?
Keonho may have processed this new information longer than expected, because before he knows it, Juhoon and Martin are on the verge of making out again. Keonho interrupts their moment with a well timed shout, and the lovebirds separate with a startled jump. If Sunghoon didn’t know any better, he would’ve run far away with how deadly Juhoon's eyes were looking.
“What do you mean by Seonghyeon hogging, huh? I don’t hog Seonghyeon, I just do friend things with him like a normal friend!” Keonho insists, clearly dead set on getting to the bottom of this, even if it meant Juhoon was going to kill him in his sleep later. Oh well, at least he has James to settle his will after he dies.
(He actually wrote his will in advance on shitty notebook paper because that one time, he got a bit overexcited after some apple vinegar that had a measly 1% alcohol content, and had nearly blabbed about their new comeback on the live they were having, and if not for James forcefully clamping his mouth shut to some degree of successful avail, his big mouth probably would’ve spilled everything while a red faced, vein-popping-out-of-forehead Martin sat right next to him. It’s a good thing they ended the live real quick, or else Keonho might’ve already been six feet under by now. So anyways, he got on writing his will the following morning. He still gets nightmares about Martin almost strangling him.)
“Nuh uh,” Martin interjects. Oh, so now he wants to be part of the conversation when Keonho's in distress, the little shit. “You and Seonghyeon definitely have something going on. Every time we go out you mention him ten quadrillion times, I’ve caught you guys cuddling before me and Jju even got together, and you definitely look at him differently from how you look at the rest of us.” This is all announced triumphantly by Martin, although he starts to look slightly distraught at the amount of evidence he’d claimed to have found. Amused at his boyfriend’s rant, Juhoon coos at him, ruffling his blond hair affectionately. Keonho fakes a vomit. Ew, couples, the pubescent boy in his brain yells.
“That’s just normal friend bonding,” Keonho retorts. “It’s totally different from you and Juhoon making out on the fucking couch in our shared living area!”
”I’d rather you guys make out instead of whatever lovey dovey couple stuff you do on the regular,” Martin mumbles. Keonho decides to ignore him.
Turning his pointed gaze on Keonho, Juhoon peers at Seonghyeon with a scrutinizing gaze. By the calculating expression on his face, Juhoon must be planning some evil scheme again, Keonho thinks glumly. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in him, Juhoon's eyes lit up as if he’d just realised something. “Martin,” Juhoon mutters, gripping his boyfriend’s shoulders harder, “when are you betting they're gonna get it together?”
“Eh,” Martin shrugs, “it's been like since what? Pre-debut, even. I'd give it one more year.”
This only leaves Keonho more baffled than before this whole conversation ever happened, and he’s utterly lost. “What? We’re just friends, and I’m sure Seonghyeon agrees with me too! He totally agrees with me. We’re not even that affectionate!” Keonho cannot believe he’s having this conversation right now. First he walks in on a toe curdling, puke-inducing make out session by two of his members, then gets his tables flipped in an interrogation he was supposed to be leading, and now they’re implying he has something going on with Seonghyeon. What on earth is going on with his day? Ugh! Fucking self help book readers(Juhoon).
Casting a pitying glance over Keonho, Juhoon faces his boyfriend again. “He’s quite dense, isn’t he?”
Martin nods solemnly, and Keonho feels the undeniable urge to slam his own head into a wall.
Juhoon sighs, finally deciding to put Keonho out of his misery. “Keonho,” he starts, and his tone is so sincere compared to just minutes ago that Keonho gets whiplash. “Have you ever really, really thought about your friendship with Seonghyeon? Like seriously, really go over it for a bit, and maybe you’ll get what we’re always talking about.”
Keonho opens his mouth to argue, to say that no, there isn’t much to say about this, is there? But as Juhoon's words register in his brain, and a million different things flash through his mind, Keonho realises he may have something on his hands to think about.
Keonho opens his mouth, then closes it again. By now, Martin is back to sucking hickies into Juhoon's neck, yet Keonho can’t find it in himself to react anymore, and pads back to their shared bedroom quietly.
(“D’you reckon he's finally getting it?” Martin asks, and from beneath him, Juhoon turns his head to glare at him weakly. “Can you not bring Keonho up while you’re balls deep in my ass,” Juhoon snaps irritatedly, squirming at the sudden lack of stimulation. “I'm going to get soft if you keep talking about Keonho-hhngh-” he's interrupted, because Martin starts thrusting into wet heat again, hips flush against Juhoon's ass, cackling devilishly. Sorry, babe,” he giggles, pressing a chaste kiss to his neck in apology.)
- When you backhug your bro at 7 in the morning with socks on (platonic!)
Keonho starts his day by biting into an absolutely tasteless, cut-up apple cube.
Still half dazed from sleep, he doesn't really find it in him to react logically, like spit the apple out, so the only solution is to keep chewing the soulless apple cube, devoid of any juice and sweetness, miserably. He swallows the chewed up piece with some effort, sighing as soon as his mouth cavity rids itself of tasteless apple.
What the fuck? Is Keonho's first cohesive thought.
Today is going to be a shit day, is Keonho's final conclusion.
The next thought that spawns is the fact that he’d just eaten a juice-less, flavour-less apple cube. What? How was that even possible? Weren't apples supposed to taste at least somewhat apple-y? How? What on god’s green Earth did Keonho just consume? The post apple clarity starts to kick in, as well as the gears of Keonho's brain. Gradually, his eyebrows start to furrow, knitting together tightly as he ponders the semantics of apple.
It's only Monday, and Keonho is already going through a crisis. He's disturbed, perturbed, appalled, bewildered, even, by the monstrosity he can barely call an apple. He doesn't even notice when his facial features start to contort into one of immeasurable disgust, focused on processing the bizarre experience he'd just gone through.
Amidst his internal turmoil, Seonghyeon surfaces from their shared room, the shuffle of his footsteps and the creaking of his bedroom door distracting Keonho from his thoughts momentarily. Seonghyeon rubs a hand over his face sluggishly while groaning, obviously fighting the last remnants of sleep from his body. He plops his ass onto the bar stool next to Keonho, and promptly faceplants into the counter, to which Keonho discreetly slides him a cup of much needed coffee.
Seonghyeonie's bedhead is horrendous, Keonho notes absentmindedly. His normally well-groomed, silky (not that Keonho knows how Seonghyeon’s hair feels, of course) hair is stuck up in all directions, parts of it flying askew. It makes him look like a rooster, kind of, and Keonho stifles a laugh at the mental image.
So anyways. There are more pressing matters on hand.
As soon as Seonghyeon's had his first sip of coffee, Keonho deems him fit for his rant immediately. Keonho plants his palms onto the kitchen counter, leveling Seonghyeon’s lidded eyes with a solemn stare. “Hyeonie, I’ve just had the worst apple experience of my life ever,” said so seriously any unassuming person might've thought he was delivering his thesis. “You know, I was planning to have an apple for breakfast, so I bit into this random apple from the fruit basket,” he pauses to inhale deeply, “and I chewed it some more, and there was still no sweetness! No taste, no nothing at all! Just chomp chomp and nothing! Can you believe it?” Keonho continued, becoming increasingly agitated with each syllable, he'd even started using hand gestures.
Vaguely, he registers Seonghyeon mumbling something along the lines of “too early for this bullshit”, so obviously, the next choice of action was to keep describing his experience in graphic detail. “There was this horrendous, sensory nightmare fluid in the apple cube. It wasn't even like, water! It was kinda nature flavoured, I guess. Like grass. I ate a whole piece of nothing. Wait no- a piece of apple cellulose,” Keonho goes on, arms flailing animatedly in the name of a terrible apple.
All the while, Seonghyeon remains half-asleep, though by now, he must be reconsidering his life choices, or more specifically, his choice of roommate, if the exasperated expression on his face is anything to go by.
“Come onnn, Seonghyeonie, I just had a really traumatic experience! Can't you at least show some sympathy?” Keonho pouts, now opting to stretch his long, tan arms over the counter in a cat-like manner and turning his head to look at Seonghyeon with a pitiful gaze. Rolling his eyes, Seonghyeon swiftly raises his hand and flicks Keonho right in the forehead, earning a pained shout from the other.
“Hey! What was that for?”
“That was for all the bullshit you bestowed on me a mere 5 minutes into my awakening,” Seonghyeon sniffs dismissively, now moving away and opening the fridge to scavenge some cereal and milk.
Keonho feels a bit sorry for bombarding Seonghyeon with his yapping at 7am(only slightly, don’t tell him that), and can also feel that Seonghyeon's exasperation radiating across the kitchen, so he crosses the area in three quick strides, and wraps his long arms around his waist, enveloping him in a comfy back hug.
Nuzzling his face into the side of Seonghyeon’s neck, Keonho mumbles unabashedly, “Sorry for being loud again, Hyeonie,” sending low vibrations across the smooth expanse of Seonghyeon's skin. Beneath him, he feels him shiver lightly, the hand holding his cereal spoon now frozen in place. Seonghyeon sighs, and pressed to his back, Keonho revels in the way Seonghyeon's chest rumbles with the sound.
“Can’t stay mad at you for long,” Seonghyeon grumbles, then warns, “but if you ever pull this shit again, you bet I’m taping your mouth shut for the rest of the morning.”
Still holding him, Keonho feels his face break into a brilliant grin, squeezing Seonghyeon's waist tighter in appreciation. And if Seonghyeon's breath hitched or his ears turned a fiery red, Keonho hadn’t been one to notice at the time. (see, you dense fuck, Juhoon's voice echoes.)
“Feed me cereal,” Keonho demands like a petulant child, now that he’s received confirmation of Seonghyeon's forgiveness. It only takes a bit of grumbling and groaning and wheedling before Seonghyeon lifts his own spoon, scooped to the brim with milk and cereal, and feeds it into Keonho's eager mouth reluctantly. In the meantime, an unsuspecting James had wandered into the kitchen.
While Keonho chomps on his cereal happily, James looks on with mild confusion, performing a series of body movements that included squinting at them like they were a national zoo exhibit, rubbing his eyes, pulling his grandpa spectacles from his pajama pocket to put them on, and blinking at the them, his mouth shaped in an o.
“Ohhhhh. Thank god. Carry on,” James says, clearly relieved for reasons unknown. Keonho's pretty sure the two of them have mirroring perplexed expressions on their faces, because James notices them staring and quickly elaborates, “I thought you guys were Martin and Juhoon for a second there. You know, after walking in on them in the studio–”he breaks out in a full body shudder, “you can never be too careful about where you're going. Especially in the kitchen. I was fearing for my life that I walked in on their foreplay.”
“But turns out it's just you two,” James continues cheerily, a full 180° from the traumatized tone he was using. “Lovely weather today, eh?”
He turns to open the fridge in a truly comical manner.
Martin and Juhoon? But they're a real, proper couple. Why would've James mistaken him and Seonghyeon for them? They couldn't have possibly be doing anything that resembled the disgusting pda Martin and Juhoon frequented, right?
“Keonho,” Seonghyeon mutters, “Get off me,” pushing Keonho's head away from where he’d made a home in Seonghyeon's neck.
“Noooooo,” Keonho whines, pulling Seonghyeon into him, readjusting his grip on his small waist because holding it tighter wasn't physically possible anymore. “Ish cozy,” Keonho mumbles, voice muffled from pressing his face into Seonghyeon's shoulder.
Seonghyeon tsks like a disappointed mother, rolling his eyes in faux offense, but he's no stranger to Keonho's clinginess anyways, so he just carries on with eating his cereal, ignoring the familiar hotness coiling in his gut as Keonho runs his palms over his waist.
Just like that, their morning continues as usual, even as Martin stumbles out from their room looking so haggard he might as well have crawled out of a car crash, takes one look at their intertwined position, and mutters something about denial being a river in Egypt under his breath.
“Whatever,” Keonho thinks to himself, basking in Seonghyeon's body warmth lazily, content. “He's just jealous he didn't think of doing this with his friends.”
- When you admire your homie’s beautiful facecard in the car and cuddle (platonic: uh)
Let's go to the beach, beach, let's go get away–
Shut the fuck up, Keonho thinks gloomily, yet his brain offers him no reprieve from the repetitive chorus, replaying it again and again in his head.
beach, beach– shut up!
Fed up with beaches and waves, Keonho lets out an abrupt yell in the middle of the company car, efficiently startling almost literally everyone in the car, in which James is woken from his nap with a disoriented “uh?”, drool still leaking from the corner of his mouth in a thin trickle.
He’s been yelling uncontrollably a lot lately, huh. Maybe he really should consider Juhoon's offer for a psychiatrist.
Really, Keonho didn't mean to cause a mini scene. It's just that ever since he'd accidentally stumbled upon the song on the streets of LA when they were on their off day a few weeks ago, the café’s speakers blaring the catchy tune, it'd been stuck in his head ever since, and worst of all, he didn't even know the name of the song in order to get rid of the non-stop looping. Although, even if the theory that when you listen to the full version of a song, it'll stop playing in your head is real, Keonho feels skeptical that it'll work on him.
Muttering a quiet apology into the resumed silence of the van, Keonho tucks himself back into his padded jacket, his ear dusted a light pink, from both the embarrassment or the cold. Furrowing his thick brows, he whips out his phone, determined to end this beach fiasco once and for all.
l-e-t apostrophe s-g-o t-o t-h-e, Keonho types–or rather, carefully pokes at the English keyboard, racking his brains for the spelling of the lyrics. “Fuck,” he swears quietly, when he accidentally deletes half of the little characters he already typed because the car hits a nasty pothole.
How do you spell beach?
He looks around the car carefully, mentally surveying the conditions of everyone to find someone coherent and awake to help him in these trying times. He turns body to look behind him. Juhoon and Martin are sleeping peacefully, their hands intertwined loosely, while Juhoon rests his head on Martin's shoulder. Basked in soft light, Keonho thinks honestly that they actually look cute together as long as they don’t start eating each other’s faces in front of him.
Ultimately though, Keonho doesn't know what's the point of looking, because his eyesight eventually lands on Seonghyeon, who’s the obvious choice. He would ask James, except James is snoring in the seat next to their manager, and Keonho is too lazy to get up from his own seat, nor is he especially enthusiastic for an earful from James if he wakes him up just for this insignificant thing.
Seonghyeon is asleep. Is that a problem for Keonho? Of course not. A sneaky gleam flashes in Keonho's eyes, biting his lip in anticipation of what he's about to do. He raises both his palms, splayed open to prepare for a tickle attack, leaning over Seonghyeon's peaceful figure.
As he's about to descend his fingers of torture, a cloud blocking the sun must've moved, because sunlight streams in through the van’s window, casting soft, golden streaks across Seonghyeon's face, and it's in this moment that Keonho halts, freezing in place.
Oh, Keonho thinks. Seonghyeonie’s really pretty, isn't he?
Slowly, he lowers his hands, staring at Seonghyeon’s slumbering figure. Sunset had already started, rays of molten gold encasing the environment in hues of soft yellow and orange. Under the sunlight, Seonghyeon only looked even more ethereal, and that's saying something. The sunlight spilled across his chiselled features, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and high nose, yet softened them around the edges. His usually slicked back stage hairdo made an absence today, opting to let his bangs down due to the lack of a schedule. His hair was fluffy from moving around in his nap, forming a glowing halo around his head, sun-kissed strands drifting slightly in the gentle breeze. Somewhere along the way, Keonho had decided to open the window to freshen up the stuffy space.
In his sleep, Seonghyeon twitches sporadically as Keonho stares, his fist clenching at his side weirdly. Clench, unclench. Seonghyeon’s nose scrunches up cutely, like he's about to sneeze. Or maybe he's bitching at someone in his dream, which would explain the fists.
Then, Keonho's line of sight shifts to Seonghyeon's lips. For some reason, Seonghyeon's lips looked especially juicy and plush today, especially under the sunlight, thanks to the Torriden lip gloss he put on earlier. Keonho couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to touch Seonghyeon's lips. Would it be soft and pillowy, like how he's imagining it now? Then a thought pops up. How would it feel like to kiss him?
Oh, what the fuck. Surprised at himself, Keonho feels his face heat up immediately, shaking away the dangerous idea in his head. Why would he even think that?
Wanting to kiss your best friend is sounding really suspicious, bro, the pubescent boy in his head shouts, like warning bells going off in his brain, but that voice is quickly muffled and smothered by other voices and then probably murdered in the basement.
Somewhere in his brain, Martin's voice saying something about denial registers that he pointedly ignores.
Martin is so wrong, he thinks. There's tons of beautiful men in the industry. It's literally in the job description. Not getting awed by someone’s insane visuals occasionally has to be physically impossible when you’re surrounded by god gifted faces every day. He lets the fact that he definitely wouldn't kiss any idol, no matter how handsome, fly over his head.
He justifies his own point by arguing to himself that Seonghyeon is his best friend, and Seonghyeon is also very pretty. Surely friends also wonder how it would feel to kiss each other? You can't blame him for being a naturally curious child.
Next to him, Seonghyeon shifts closer to him and sniffs. The tip of his nose is a rosy pink, and his body is curling on itself like a snail. Keonho had been so deep in thought, he hadn’t even realised that it was getting chilly, but seeing Seonghyeon hold his sweater tighter sparked worry in Keonho. What if he caught a cold?
As Keonho moves to close the windows back up, he feels something grab at his arm, and turns to see a still-asleep Seonghyeon curling his arm around Keonho's. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s doing, Keonho realises, the corners of his lips curling upwards at the endearing sight. He settles back into his seat slowly, as to not jostle Seonghyeon awake.
His attempts soon prove to be futile, as Seonghyeon cracks open a half lidded eye blearily around 5 minutes later, nosing his face into Sunghoon’s padded jacket, groaning. “Why..why’s it so cold," he slurs, rubbing sleep from his eyes. A barely awake Seonghyeon looks just like a disgruntled little kitten, and Keonho fights the overwhelming urge to coo at him or ruffle his hair. His Seonghyeonie is just so cute. No wonder so many coers go crazy over his aegyo on twitter.
“I’ve just closed the windows,” Keonho reassures, rubbing Seonghyeon's arm affectionately. “I think the temperature will go back up soon, so just go back to— oomph!” Keonho doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Seonghyeon has just shifted his body to lay halfway on him, and planted his head right on top of Keonho's chest. He pulls Keonho's arm around him, a crease appearing in between his eyebrows. “I’m fucking cold, so hold me,” he demands, and who is Keonho to say no?
Seonghyeon seems to have found a good position, because he finally stops squirming, and hums contentedly from where his head nestles cozily in the juncture of Keonho's neck, his body sideways. Keonho watches as Seonghyeon floats in and out of consciousness, his eyelids drooping as if there were thousand pound weights tethered to them. Belatedly, Keonho also watches as Seonghyeon's long eyelashes cast gentle, delicate shadows on his cheeks. Pretty, pretty. “Yah, you idiot, go to sleep…. Or else…you’re gonna regret it when we're 3 hours into practice,” Seonghyeon mumbles sluggishly, clearly on the verge of passing out again. “I will, don’t worry about me,” sighs Keonho, nicking a jacket from his bag with his spare hand to drape it over Seonghyeon's body.
A comforting weight on his lap, breathing in Seonghyeon's familiar, soothing scent of jasmine perfume, Keonho knows it isn’t long before sleep overtakes him too. Seonghyeon has already fallen asleep once more, letting out small snuffles while Keonho cards his fingers through his hair. After some more doomscrolling, Keonho succumbs to his drowsiness. Drifting asleep to the steady puffs of Seonghyeon's breathing, a warm body on top of his, all thoughts of kissing and lips have been long forgotten, thrown to the back of his mind where he's probably not touching in this lifetime.
Even when they wake up to the sounds of cameras clicking around them, the members undoubtedly taking more photos for their so-called Keonhyeon album (what is it with you guys wanting to record every instance of our friendship, Keonho had previously snarked), Keonho just sighs, and holds Seonghyeon closer to his chest while flashing the finger towards their phones.
- When you find out homeboy isn't coming to practice and sulk the whole time (concern for a friend:platonic)
“Where’s Seonghyeonie,” Keonho asks as soon as he steps into the practice room. Flinging his plastic bag to the side (he spilled juice in his last one), he launches himself across the floor on the nearest skateboard he could find like a wet fish.
Screaming for the entire trajectory of his skateboarding stint, he crashes disastrously into Juhoon, who tips backwards and lands on the hard floor with a loud shriek, novel flying into the air at the force. “Ugh,” Juhoon complains once he'd finished releasing a deadly string of curses. “You better find me the page I left off on, you brat. Do you know how long it took me to get to that–”
“Sorry,” Keonho interrupts. He grinning, and he's also obviously not sorry at all. “Do you know where Seonghyeonie is? I lost track of him after he went off to god knows where during lunch.”
“No respect for elders nowadays,” Juhoon grumps moodily, picking up his battered novel from the floor. “Even have to pick up my own book that,” he raises his voice, “you bulldozed to the floor, mind you, with my back aching and knees cracking.”
“Pretty sure the age of retirement is 60 and not 18,” Keonho mutters, before receiving a cheeky slap to the back of his head. “Alright, alright,” he yelps, clutching his head protectively. “I'm sorrrrryyyyyyyy.”
“Lack of sincerity,” Juhoon harrumphs, giving Keonho the side eye. He's smiling, though, so Keonho knows it's all in good nature.
I haven't seen Seonghyeon lately,” Juhoon vocalizes, answering his previous question just as Keonho was about to open his mouth. He deflates slightly, pouting as he rolls on the floor childishly. The rest of the members are yet to arrive, so Keonho hasn't fully given up yet. He clings onto the hopeful thought, the corners of his mouth curving up at the mental image of Seonghyeon's face. The practice room lapses into silence once again.
“Mmmpf,” he's muttering against a mouthful of floor, having already waited 30 long, arduous minutes; sue him for being an early bird, when the door handle clicks. Immediately, he shoots up from the floor, excitedly bounding over to the entrance.
“You're such a dog,” Juhoon chuckles, but he's also gotten up. Probably to see Martin. Disgusting couples. Keonho ignores him, and pulls open the door, already grinning so wide it spans his whole face.
“Wassup, besties and oooh,” he wolf-whistles appreciatively, “beautiful boyfriend,” flashing double hand horns at them. Juhoon blushes. He blushes! Keonho throws up a little in his mouth.
“Never associate my name and terms of romantic endearment in the same sentence again,” James tells him, shoving past Martin to get into the dance studio. Thank god for sane people, Keonho thinks.
But…where's Seonghyeon?
James had already started putting songs on blast on their speakers, and Martin was parading Juhoon around the room as per his unusual daily schedule. Seonghyeon had once asked what kind of weird courting rite this was and received no response.
Thoroughly confused, Keonho sticks his head out of the door, eyes tracking down every crevice of the long hallway. Maybe Seonghyeon's playing a prank on him. Maybe he's going to jump out any moment, screaming bloody murder, and scare the absolute shit out of Keonho. Keonho would much prefer this. “Seonghyeon?” Keonho calls out meekly, though really, he already knows what's going on. He just doesn't want to admit it just yet.
He turns back to the studio, where James is now freakishly locking and popping in the corner of the mirrored room. What the fuck? How his arms are not dislocating is probably one of the unsolvable mysteries of biology.
“Why isn't Seonghyeon with you guys?” He calls out to the air, eyebrows furrowing unconsciously.
Martin wrangles himself into a sitting position, manhandling Juhoon from where he was flopped across his stomach. He looks at Keonho with a surprised expression. “Don't you know? Seonghyeon went home early.”
“What?” Keonho yelps, his eyes widening. This is news to him. “What happened to him?”
“He said he felt sick,” James yells from his secluded corner, and Keonho jumps. Didn't know James's brain was still in the human world, he thinks, but that thought is quickly overpowered by the news he was just notified of. “Seonghyeonie's sick? Why didn't I know about this?” His voice pitches higher and higher, even as the weight in his stomach sinks deeper and deeper.
“Well, obviously you do now,” Juhoon snarks. Keonho bends down and throws his shoe across the room in retaliation. Ignoring Juhoon's lackadaisical groan, he stares at the birch floor at his feet, feeling the familiar feeling of disappointment creep up on him. He looks up, and suddenly, the room looks drab and dull, like the built-in saturation in his eyes just got turned down a million degrees. Huh. That's weird.
“It's fine, man. He's gonna be up and jumping around after some rest,” Martin says cheerfully, clapping Keonho on the back and completely oblivious to his current state of misery. “Come on! It's practice time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Keonho mumbles half-heartedly, trudging over to them. Practice hasn't even started, and he already wants to go home. To Seonghyeon, his mind supplies.
Music blares through the speakers. Usually, Keonho would be varying degrees of enthusiastic for dance practice, but today, Keonho feels a whole lot of nothing. For some baffling reason, dance suddenly feels just as boring as math lessons do. Or any school lesson, for that matter, which basically means this whole session was torture. Keonho emphasizes with all his same-age peers who have to go through the compulsory education system while the instructor yells at him to swing his arms on beat for the tenth time in an hour.
If any of the other three take notice of him wallowing in a 100-acre swimming pool of self pity, they don't bring it up. Or they at least have the decency to not talk about it in front of Keonho, which he appreciates greatly.
“What's up with you,” James huffs raggedly, dropping onto the floor next to him. Nevermind. Seems like he spoke too early. It's the mid-session break, and Keonho has made so many mistakes he doesn't have enough fingers and toes to count the amount of times he got called out.
“Nothing,” Keonho lies, like a liar. James clearly thinks so too, if the dubious look on his face is anything to go by.
“I'm sure it's nothing,” Martin smirks, a shit eating grin on his face that could only be achieved by fatigue induced insanity. “And I'm sure it's nothing to do with someone not being here. Someone whose name is spelled with an s, then an e, then o, n , g, h, y, e, o, and an n who you don’t want to admit you have a crush on.”
“I'm illiterate today,” Keonho tells him, pointing at his head. The start of a migraine is brewing in his temples, and he tries to tune it out by sheer willpower. Not like he has any, but he would much prefer not to continue the dance session with a raging headache.
“No you aren't. Selective illiteracy isn't a thing.”
“It is today,” Keonho shoots back, then adds, “because I said so.”
“You're such a kid,” Martin sighs, so Keonho blows a fat raspberry at him, cackling gleefully at how Martin screeches and stumbles away, yelling about hygiene and bacteria and disgusting saliva dna.
He hates that Martin is right. He does miss Seonghyeon, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud for a billion years. Not even if Mr Beast bribed him with a new penthouse and enough stacks to wrap around the perimeter of the earth. He misses the way Seonghyeon would lean on him, sweaty and tired, during breaks like these, misses the way he would immediately reassure him when he saw the instructor's scoldings had struck a sore spot, and most of all, he misses Seonghyeon’s familiar, grounding presence here, with him. Stuck with the thought, he’s glum for the rest of the hours, even when Martin falls on his ass and rips his jeans.
When the instructor calls for the end of their gruelling practice at long last, Keonho is the happiest he’s been that day. He’s the first to pack up all his things, and waits by the door restlessly when normally, either Martin or Juhoon have to wheedle him into getting up from his sweaty puddle on the ground. He rushes them along all the way into the company car, spirits soaring so high at the mere idea of seeing Seonghyeon again he almost doesn’t snipe back at Martin’s relentless teasing.
“You’re so whipped,” Martin sing-songs annoyingly, before narrowly dodging the punch aimed at his arm, laughing.
“Am not,” Keonho protests weakly, “I’m—just excited to see my best friend.”
“Your best friend that you brooded over for the whole afternoon because you couldn’t see him for a few hours?” Juhoon questions in that knowing tone of his, and Keonho doesn’t entertain him with a response. He stares out the window instead, trying to ignore the stirring emotions in his chest.
It’s all forgotten the second he steps through the doorway, though, and realises with a happy start hat Seonghyeon is awake, by the way light seeps through the cracks under the door to their room. He barely manages to kick off his shoes before he’s off again, bursting through the door and tackling a doomscrolling Seonghyeon in a hug. Seonghyeon chides him not to go in his bed with outside clothes with his voice hoarse and Keonho laughs, content at how much his voice sounds like home, feeling like yes, this is it, this is what I missed so dearly during all these hours,
He changes out of his outfit and into a random clean shirt orphaned on the floor, collapsing onto Seonghyeon’s bed as he starts recounting his day animatedly. Of course, he leaves out the part where he sulked for 10 hours straight because Seonghyeon wasn’t there. He doesn’t need to know that.
“And then during the verse part, Martin fell on his ass so hard I literally felt it through my shoes. I’ll be damned if he didn’t accidentally caused a earthquake in the area,” Keonho says, and revels in Seonghyeon’s cute giggles with a wide grin on his face, although secretly, his heart squeezes painfully hearing the sick rasp in his voice.
“You missed me sooo much, didn’t you,” Seonghyeon teases, pinching his cheek playfully.
Yes. Yes, I did, Keonho thinks. I missed you so much. “Hell nah,” is what comes out of his mouth, and Seonghyeon shoves at him in mock offense. The next second, he doubles over, hacking and coughing, which has Keonho leaning over him in worry until Seonghyeon waves him away, claiming that he’s fine.
They sit in silence for a few moments. Keonho strokes the back of Seonghyeon’s hand out of habit; a habit he developed since they were trainees, one that pops out when he’s nervous, and pipes up: “thank god Martin wasn’t in here just now. I think he’s developing ocd these days. He would’ve had an aneurysm at your coughing fit earlier, and we would’ve had to find a new leader.”
Seonghyeon breaks out in peals of laughter; Keonho’s favourite sound in the entire universe.