Work Text:
kun drifts in and out of slumber. it takes him a while to fully gain consciousness. and it takes a bit more for his vision to adjust to the darkness of the room. he'd left the light on before he slept, that much he remembers. he slipped out of the post-concert dinner early, excusing himself because he was minutes away from diving headfirst into his bowl of soup.
he hadn't slept a wink the night before, but he went straight to rehearsals and pulled himself through their three-hour finale concert in hong kong as he should.
the clock on the bedside table reads three fifteen. and without the light on, he can't see much except the silhouettes illuminated by the city lights flitting through the floor-length windows of the hotel room. but his stream of consciousness flows steadily, and kun finally realizes.
he crept into bed alone, yes. but now, he no long was.
he feels warmth seeping through his skin on every single point of contact. the leg thrown over his own. the arm draped across his waist. the steady breath hitting a patch of skin right above his collarbone. it's warm, warm enough to fool him into thinking that there was still more to this than just a simple gesture of comfort.
warm enough that he could feel the steady release of the pressure building up in his chest, worries somehow placated for now.
and kun could close his eyes again and pretend that this doesn't mean as much to him as it does. he'll fall asleep again and wake-up a few hours later to an empty bed, because in reality, they don't share the room since he won the right to sleep alone in the biggest room for this tour stop. he would go on and pretend that the extra keycard he slipped into a certain someone's coat pocket went unnoticed, go about his life, and act like he never even did it in the first place.
because he knows he made a mistake, rehashing old habits like this.
it had been an uncalculated risk, tucking the extra keycard into the pocket that contained a silver zippo lighter and a half-empty pack of raison, the pocket he knows would be reached into as soon as the plates and cans were emptied.
he shouldn't have done it, and yet he could only feel relief at its outcome.
they danced around each other for years, from the dimly lit basement practice rooms in seoul to the full-packed arenas with blinding spotlights across the globe. it's been nine years since they've met, and for a long time, kun wondered if the timing would ever be right.
kun lost him in a year of meeting him, got him back almost three years later. he took his chance then, but kun quickly realized that it'd be selfish of him to hold back the star that would shine no matter what.
and while the permanence is somewhat clearer now, if simply having him by his side for as long as their group exists is all he'll have, so be it.
he feels the dull ache in his chest, knowing he brought this upon himself. he was the one who insisted on building a wall and distancing himself. he cut sicheng off, and that's on him.
and yet, sicheng was here, like a fever dream he doesn't want to wake up from. he feels so warm, like he hasn't felt in a long time. he knows. this warmth would linger for quite some time. and it's an indulgence he silently thanks sicheng for.
so kun closes his eyes and lets the steady breath now fanning across his cheek lull him to back to sleep. in the morning, he knows what he'll wake up to, and that's okay.
it's been raining since his plane landed at the beijing airport that afternoon. and as the night creeps on, it only grows stronger.
he spent two days in fujian to attend a high school friend's wedding, where he was teased to no end when the bouquet the bride threw towards the crowd landed in his hands. fittingly, they said, being the only one in their friend group left unwed. he had to be next. he laughed it off, of course. jokingly saying that he's long been married to his job anyway.
he's twenty nine, at the peak of his career, is what he told them. it's not a lie, nor is it an overestimation. wayv's sold-out concert tour just ended a month ago, and it was a miracle he was able to squeeze in two days off to fly to fujian for the weekend.
as soon as the week-long break they were given after their final concert in hong kong ended, they were each handed a piece of paper that contained their schedules for the next two months.
which is why it's no surprise that dorm is empty when he gets there.
it's not unusual. while it took a while for them to settle into the fast-paced, jam-packed schedules that came with their permanent relocation to beijing, kun has gotten used to not seeing the other members on a regular basis despite the fact that they still lived together.
they're split between two adjacent townhouses. they each got a room for themselves, significantly bigger than the ones they had in seoul before the move.
and despite their initial apprehension of living in a residential area by the outskirts of the city, they've renewed their leases twice. they lived far enough from the city center that coming home almost feels like going on a break, and he'd like to think they all agree they've found a place akin to a home.
kun can't help but count the days until he gets to see at least one of the members again. he might see yangyang in seoul in a few days when he flies in for a meeting with the a&r team to settle a few things before they start recording their new album in a few months time. but he's not even sure if yangyang would have the time to meet him.
yangyang's busy promoting with the rest of the members born in 2000 in a new nct u unit. ten's in thailand as a host and mentor for an idol survival show. xuxi, guanheng, and dejun are in shanghai for fashion week. and sicheng is just about to wrap up filming for his new drama airing in a few months time.
it's barely six in the evening on a monday, but kun lets himself go a little. he has the rest of the day off, and his scheduled live with mistine the next day isn't until five in the afternoon. so he grabs a random bottle of wine on their refrigerator door and heads straight for his room.
it's probably ten's, the gift from their company for the successful tour. but he remembers stashing a similar bottle in his closet which he could use as a replacement.
he tries not to let his thoughts wander, even considering booting up his laptop to work on some projects he's left untouched since they started touring.
but he knows the dam has broke, and this downwards spiral is inevitable.
he sighs, taking a swig directly from the bottle.
as expected, that night in hong kong had been unspoken of. he woke up alone, and for a while he wondered if he'd just imagined the entire thing. but the other side of the bed was warm, and that was enough proof for him.
in retrospect, they couldn't have talked about it either way. he hasn't even seen sicheng since the day they were handed their schedules. sicheng flew out to hangzhou that very night to start preparing for the romantic comedy wuxia drama where he would be playing the second lead.
and knowing sicheng meant knowing that sicheng wouldn't initiate that conversation. after all, it's been three years since their last night in their dorms in seoul, and not once did sicheng ask why.
at the cusp of spring, they packed everything up in boxes and bid their goodbyes. by the end of it, kun bottled up all his feelings up and put an end to things.
"i'm sorry."
it was all he could say without breaking the pandora's box wide open, the one that would reveal the ugly sides of him out in the open. sicheng only looked at him and nodded, never questioning his decision. never asking why. only ever enduring.
and that's what haunts him the most.
"it's okay, ge. i know you," sicheng held his gaze, his eyes glassy, "so i know why you're doing this. which is why... i'm sorry too."
it had been too much at that time. the move to beijing meant the company was finally taking the risk, that they're banking on a return on investment. and kun, who had been fighting so hard for this opportunity, felt like he had to shed every ounce of his pride, every source of indulgence.
in seoul, he had been somewhat complacent, working steadily but away from the limelight and competition of the market they were supposed to fight their way into. which meant that moving to beijing almost equates to being thrust into a battlefield with people who have been trained to fight a battle they haven't exactly prepared for.
he felt like he had to do his damn hardest to make sure that every single one of them made the best out of the chance they were given. and he felt that he could only do that if he'd gotten rid of everything that would cause him to waver.
it had been too much, and he knew he had to make a decision that would hurt. because he knows the constant pressure and fear would eventually mold his feelings into something ugly. because leading up to that moment, he had already started feeling like he didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of the affection everyone else had been vying for, even though he'd been treasuring that novelty for years.
he'd slowly been plagued by the thought of being undeserving of what sicheng had been willingly giving him, and it felt wrong.
it made him feel awful, because sicheng didn't deserve that. he didn't deserve to be repaid in tainted feelings.
so he's kept him at an arm's length, the only way to save sicheng and himself from what could have been an even more bitter end. but all it took is a single misstep. a need so intense, that it had spilt over. he felt like he was drifting away. and he had only thought of one person who could help keep him grounded.
he'd kept himself away for years, and now that he's allowed himself to reach out again, he’s willingly breaking down all the walls he's built around himself.
because three years is a long time to unlearn old habits, but kun slowly and begrudgingly got rid of his only vice, only for him to slip and backslide.
"oh."
kun blinks, confusion etched all over his face. he's been able to sweep everything under the rug the past month. he's been busy. he's been working on a lot of projects recently, and that alone managed to take his mind off of things. plus, the only people he's seen at the apartment the entire time are dejun and guanheng. out of sight, out of mind.
now though, their schedules have been cleared. and they're set to stay in seoul for two weeks to record songs for their new mini album, learn the choreography to their title track, and film parts of their music video.
for some reason, they're staying in their old dorm which was recently vacated by a group of trainees. they were supposed to sleep in their old rooms, but yangyang insisted on playing games to decide.
he lost, and he's supposed to share the room with guanheng. except sicheng just walked into the room with his suitcase, looking like he's about to pass out.
"hi ge, xuxi asked me to switch with guanheng… and i couldn't say no, so… i- uh…"
sicheng looks like he's seconds away from bolting out the door. and the fact that kun had been the reason why he looks so hesitant puts things in perspective.
he knows he's been selfish, deciding on his own and hurting sicheng in the process. and he still could be hurting him now. after all, he tried to keep up appearances. he tried not to make anyone else worry, because a shift in their relationship could affect the group. so not much has changed in front of the cameras, even in front of their members.
but behind closed doors, things are different.
"no, it's fine. don't worry about it. you can go shower too. you're recording first tomorrow, right?"
sicheng nods, but he doesn't say anything else. kun watches silently as sicheng takes out stacks of clothing from his luggage and moving them into the closet by the door. that's when he realizes.
they're in sicheng and xuxi's old room. kun blinks, and a memory creeps back on him.
"sicheng?"
sicheng looks at him over his shoulder, and his eyes are wide, like he couldn't believe that kun was initiating a conversation with him comfortably like this.
he feels a pang in his chest. "um, i… i just… i remembered something. uh, yeah. sorry, never mind."
sicheng smiles at him kindly, the way he doesn't deserve, as if he understands what kun means. "oh, yeah. it was in this room, right?"
kun nods, not trusting his words. he first kissed sicheng in this room, while the other members were in the living room drunk out of their minds. they were sober, but kun remembers feeling like he was floating, like he couldn't believe that sicheng was kissing him back. and for a while, it didn't feel real.
they weren't even together, not officially, because they didn't think they needed to label whatever they had. and yet kun had the gall to simply apologize to sicheng and tell him he couldn't do it any longer. but he never got to tell him why, and kun knows it's long overdue, but he doesn't even know if sicheng would even want to hear it.
would he even want to hear how kun's fears and worries ate at him then? sicheng three years ago would have sat down and listened to him if he had the courage to share his burdens, but kun isn't in any place to make that decision for sicheng now.
"ge?"
it's kun's turn to be caught off-guard. sicheng has a determined look on his face, and kun braces himself for what's to come. "yeah?"
"do you think you made the right choice then?"
kun thinks it's more complicated than that, that a simple yes or no won't suffice, and he tells sicheng as much. "i think, at that time, i did. but it was a selfish choice, and i still feel like i don't deserve your understanding. but if you'll ask me if i regret it…"
he looks sicheng in the eye and tells him the words he's been holding onto for so long. "i do. i do regret it."
sicheng holds his gaze, eyes always so expressive. kun knows his words don't hold much weight, that whatever he says couldn’t erase the decision he made and the repercussions it brought about.
but sicheng had always been understanding, even when he doesn't deserve it. and that small smile that graces his face tells kun more than words could.