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To say that Jay is not prepared is an understatement.
Jay is bewildered. He is dumbfounded. Gobsmacked, even. Enough for the vast collection of vocabulary that is usually ready at his beck and call to vanish into thin air, a disbelieving wisp of “what?” floating out of his mouth.
It hasn’t been long since they landed in Frankfurt, Germany. Immediately after unloading from their flight, the seven of them had been carted off to the stadium for soundcheck and their performances. After scrambling from place to place for so long, Jay had been yearning for the sweet comfort of a mattress and a pillow under his body; even first class on a plane couldn’t beat an actual bed.
How had he been supposed to know that this is what would be waiting for him?
Their manager, somehow more tired than all of them, passes him a hotel card, cementing the reality of this situation—this isn’t a figment of his exhaustion-addled mind. “It appears that there’s been some sort of mix-up. It’s too late to switch anything, especially for one night, so you two will have to figure something out.”
Jay blinks blankly at the hotel card in his hands. He looks over at Jungwon, because surely, he has something to say about this, right? The seven of them all strongly value their personal space and-
Except Jungwon is nodding as if this makes perfect sense, already wheeling his luggage towards the elevator. “It’s only for a night, it’s fine,” he says, uncaring as he stifles a yawn with his hand. That must be enough assurance for their manager, who proceeds to walk off without a care in the world about Jay’s feelings! Are his opinions of this situation he’s been shoved into (without his consent, nonetheless!) not important?
A strangled breath wheezes itself out of Jay. Clearly, none of their members will be of any help, because all of them with their respective roommates have already abandoned the lobby. There’s nothing he can do but hurry after Jungwon, head spinning with equal parts dread and disbelief.
“Jungwon-ah,” he begins as he catches up to where the younger has already jabbed at the elevator button, “you’re okay with this? You don’t want to switch with one of the others or something?”
Jungwon glances up at him, head tilted to the side just slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with this?”
“There’s—there’s only one bed.”
“Everyone shared beds in I-Land before.”
“Yes, but…”
He trails off, at a loss. And that’s just it, isn’t it? Why is Jay making such a fuss about this? They’ve all shared beds at one point or another, whether in I-Land or during their trainee days. Hell, it’s only recently Riki has stopped crawling into one of their beds in the middle of the night.
The elevator bell rings and the two of them step in. Jungwon leans his chin on the handle of his luggage, lashes fluttering as he fights exhaustion. He must be one moment away from falling asleep. Meanwhile, here is Jay, wondering if he’ll even be able to sleep tonight.
Maybe it isn’t about sharing a bed; if it had been Heeseung or Jake that Jay would be sharing the covers with, he wouldn’t have batted an eye.
Maybe, it’s about sharing a bed with Jungwon.
Jay swallows. This isn’t new. Back in I-Land, where Jungwon had been his singular grounding force and his presence was an overwhelming comfort in a world so unpredictable, the two of them had shared a bed. Jungwon would hog all the covers and Jay would let him, because as long as the other was comfortable, that is all that mattered.
This should be the same. In fact, this should be easier, with months of living together and the members of their group set into stone between them. It should be, but it isn’t, and Jay would be a liar if he pretended as if he didn’t know why.
Since the very beginning, Jungwon has always taken up more space in the soft cavern of his chest than he probably should. Their members had noticed it, their fans have noticed—there’s only so many times Jay can choose the other for something, only so many times he can trail behind him before it starts becoming comical. Enough times to warrant the compilations that show up on his YouTube recommendations: Jay being whipped for Jungwon for thirteen minutes straight.
This bias is only normal, it’s comfortable—it’s how it’s always been. Jay has a soft spot for Jungwon, and Jungwon indulges him with teases and smiles.
Except.
Recently, things have been different.
Somewhere between Jungwon waking him up daily and the two of them going out to eat frequently together, between late night walks along the twinkling lights of Han River and the other wandering into his room at midnight on his own birthday because he knew that Jay would want to be the first one to wish him, his interactions with Jungwon has been nudged out of the territory of normal.
Is it normal for his spirits to be lifted simply by seeing the back profile of Jungwon slumped over his computer? Is it normal to shuffle closer to press their thighs together just to savor in their shared body heat? Is it normal for his stomach to swoop when Jungwon turns to him with those round, round eyes and that beautiful, beautiful smile?
Jay isn’t sure if he wants to know the answer.
The elevator comes to a stop and the meager number of passengers aboard it spills out. Jay hurries out, about to head down right when a hand catches his shoulder, stopping him in place. It’s Jungwon, eyeing him quizzically. If he notices something off, he doesn’t comment on it. “That’s the wrong way, hyung,” he says, pointing left. “Our room is that way.”
Not trusting himself to speak, Jay nods and changes his course. He can’t remember what size bed their room is supposed to have and for the love of all that is good, he hopes against hope that it will be at least a size queen.
The door unlocks with a tap of the card and Jay pushes his way in. Jungwon is in far less of a rush than him, trailing behind him sluggishly, wheels of his luggage clicking and clunking. Jay sucks in a breath.
All things considered, it’s a nice room. Large and spacious with plenty of room for them to move around. The walls are painted a homely beige, abstract artwork hung up on them in golden frames, the curtains framing the window heavy and dark. It would’ve been perfect, if not for one, significant detail.
The bed is fucking tiny.
Even for an average-sized man and woman, it’s a tight fit. It’s clearly not meant for two, growing boys to sleep in. One of which harbors less-than-ideal thoughts about the other. With their long legs and broad statures, there’s no way their limbs won’t end up nudging against each other, if not entangled.
And sure, it’s a prospect Jay has entertained before, in the darkness of his room—Jungwon pressed up against him, slumbering away. But that had been a harmless fantasy—not reality like now, with Jungwon blearily-eyed beside him as he toes off his shoes and slings off his backpack, setting it onto the bed. Their bed.
Fuck. Jay is definitely taking the floor.
“I’ll take the bathroom first, alright?”
“Go for it.”
With a sense of finality, the bathroom door swings shut, leaving Jay alone with his thoughts. His unwelcome thoughts of Jungwon’s torso curved against his, hot breath ghosting Jay’s jugular as his shirt rides up over the course of the night-
The shower turns on and Jay shuts off that particular train of thought. For heaven’s sake, this is his bandmate, this is Jungwon! Just Jungwon, as he’s always known him.
Jungwon, the boy who had stayed a little too long in the practice rooms at night and Jay had had to finance his taxi back home. Jungwon, his salvation in the volatile world of I-Land. Jungwon, the leader of their team, who is guiding the six of them with such determination and passion it awes him. Jungwon, who is growing up so well, getting prettier and prettier by the day, with his rosebud lips that Jay’s eyes linger on for longer and longer these days, with his narrow waist that he searches for any excuse he can find to wrap his arms around it.
So maybe it isn’t just Jungwon.
He sets on winding down himself—unloading his duffel bag and retrieving his slippers and clothes for the night, determinedly not thinking about the boy behind the bathroom door at the moment. There aren’t any spare duvets or pillows in the closet, but he’s sure he can call room service to request some extra…
Eventually, the sound of running water tapers off. The door clicks open once more. “I left a towel for you, hyung.”
“Mhm. Thanks.” Jay looks up and instantly regrets doing so. Jungwon is still rubbing his wet hair, dressed in shorts and one of his big, white shirts that somehow make him look even more adorable than he already is. His cheeks are flushed rosy like they always are whenever he takes a hot shower, and the strangest urge to cry seizes Jay.
A streak of pink hair dye-stained water trickles down his neck. If Jay was close enough, he would have reached out to wipe it away with a thumb.
Surely, this isn’t normal either. This desire to snatch up Jungwon and wrap him up in his arms, shelter him from the world and give him everything he could ever need or want. Instead of dwelling on it, Jay brushes past him into the shower.
This must be some sort of test from God. To not only force him to share a room with Jungwon, who he’s been steadily trying to limit his interactions with before these strange feelings of his spiral into something else, something dangerous, but to also only have one bed in the room.
Jay closes his eyes and turns the shower on.
The hot water, at least, blissfully drowns out all his thoughts and soothes his muscles, wound up after their eventful day of flights and performances. With all that has been going on, he hasn’t even managed to put much thought into how they had done on the stage. Even now, the cheers of the crowd ring in his ears, the thrill of performing in front of such a massive audience still humming through his veins.
This is what being an idol is all about, Jay muses, lathering soap suds into his hair.
The peace doesn’t last for long. No sooner has he toweled himself dry and stepped out is he struck once more with the circumstances he is stuck in—namely, Yang Jungwon and a single bed.
Now, this isn’t what being an idol is all about. What in his idol training had prepared him to deal with his less-than-ideal affections towards his bandmate?
Said bandmate is already curled up in the bed, strawberry red hair stark against the white pillow. He’s scrolling on his phone, either watching cat videos or checking the reactions of their fans on Twitter. He looks up as Jay emerges, a grin already unfurling across his lips.
“Oh, Seattle Hot Guy,” he sings. “That’s what they’re calling you. How do you think they’ll react to the comeback?” When Jay doesn’t make any comment, his brow furrows delicately and he sits up. “What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong?
Nothing much. I’ve been thinking of you in an admittedly-unfriendly way, and now I need to share a bed with you as I continue to try to not think about you in this admittedly-unfriendly way. No biggie.
Nothing much. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep today at all.
Nothing much. I think I love you.
“...Just thinking about our performance today,” Jay says. It’s not entirely a lie, but it sure as hell isn’t the truth either.
Jungwon releases a little “ah” of understanding. “No need to be worried.” He holds out his phone to show Jay a picture of himself, captioned with plenty of expletives. “They’re amazed. We did well. You did really well. Your biceps have worked hard and gained many new fans.”
Now, this is easy. Playful conversation between the two of them, reassurance tucked in between jokes. This is normal. Jungwon does this with all the members. Jay does this with all the members.
“I’ll call room service,” Jay says. He reaches for the phone only to be stopped as Jungwon fixes him with a look of bewilderment.
“What? Why?”
“To bring more covers?”
“Are you worried I’ll take yours? I stopped stealing blankets long ago.”
“It’s not that. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
The confusion deepens on Jungwon’s face. “Why would you sleep on the floor? I told you, we’ve already shared beds before.”
"Yeah, but…”
“Are you not comfortable with-”
“No!” Jay interjects, wincing as his voice comes out louder than he had intended. “It’s… It’s not that. I just thought that maybe you’d be more okay with sleeping alone…”
Jungwon studies his face and for a moment, Jay’s afraid his expression has given everything away. What would happen then? Would he be disgusted? Would he indulge Jay as he always does? Or…
Would he have a different reaction entirely?
“I’m fine,” Jungwon says. “So that settles it.” He pats the mattress. “Come on, we need to sleep at least a little before tomorrow morning. The floor won’t be comfortable.”
Jay hovers, uncertain. Jungwon continues to look at him expectantly and in the end, he is nothing but a weak man. Caving in, he crawls onto the bed next to Jungwon, their shoulders knocking against each other. He extends his legs and his thigh presses against the younger’s.
…This bed is fucking tiny.
“The bed is really small,” Jungwon says, and Jay nods as if this is new information to him and he hasn’t been agonizing over this exact thing since they had arrived at their room. “How are we even going to be able to sleep?”
He speaks without thinking. “I don’t think I’ll be able to anyway.”
“Hm?”
“Nothing.”
Thankfully, Jungwon doesn’t push him. “It’s probably better if we stay close to the middle than one of us falling off,” he muses, and before Jay can ask him what he suggests, he moves closer and Jay goes stiff. “I think this is better.”
How this is better, Jay can’t fathom. From where there had been a respectable distance between him, there is nothing now, Jungwon’s head pillowed against his shoulder and his arm pressed flat against Jay’s. Some part of him expects his fight-or-flight reflexes to kick in to scream at him to run.
But Jungwon’s looking up at him again and Jay forces himself to nod jerkily.
He won’t be getting any sleep tonight.
Something flits over Jungwon’s face but it must be a trick of the light as it dissipates the moment Jay notices it. “I’m not really sleepy,” he says. “Want to watch the new episode of the K-drama that’s airing?”
“Weren’t you watching that with Sunoo?”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
His silence is taken as confirmation. Minutes later, Jay can only marvel at the situation he’s in—the two of them curled into each other on a bed in a hotel room plunged in darkness, Jungwon’s phone propped up against a pillow as they watch Shin Hari make a complete fool of herself for the nth time.
He can’t quite concentrate on the chaotic events as they unfold, however. Not with Jungwon pressed so close to him, not when if he squirms around just a bit, he’ll be able to hear how wildly Jay’s heart beats inside the concave of his chest.
And what then? How would Jay defend himself? How would he explain how deeply Jungwon has rooted himself into him? That if Jungwon asked him of it, he would cut open his chest and offer his still-beating heart on a silver platter?
“Jay-hyung.”
Jungwon is quiet, too quiet. Jay responds with a hum.
“You’ve been too quiet.”
“We’re watching.”
“I don’t mean now. I mean… you’ve been too quiet.”
He can’t figure out what Jungwon is trying to get at. “Well… I talk too much, right?” He chuckles so that the other knows he is joking. “So I thought maybe I should tone it down-”
“But not with anyone else. Just with me.”
Huh?
His chin jerks down but Jungwon’s face is tilted downwards, his eyes still trained on the little phone screen cradled between their thighs. Jay blinks, opens his mouth, and closes it again. He opens it once more. “I have?”
Jungwon hums. When he speaks, his voice comes out small.
“You don’t touch me much anymore,” he whispers, and the words spear through Jay, leaving him gutted. “Why?”
Why?
(Because Jay was trying to put a stop to these stifling emotions within him. Because his touches were no longer innocent as they were before. Because the last thing he had expected was for Jungwon to notice , let alone care.)
Silence suspends between them. And then: “...You noticed?”
How does Jungwon’s face look right now, Jay wonders? He wants to see, but all that fills his line of sight when he looks down is strawberry red.
“How would I not?”
“I didn’t think you would.”
Sitting here now, he realizes how stupid it had been of him to think that Jungwon wouldn’t have noticed when this had been the very reason he had been chosen as a leader: his perceptiveness in noting the conditions of his members and skill in pinning down the smallest things about each of them.
Of course, he had noticed. How Jay would reach out to curl an arm around his shoulder before pulling it back to himself. How Jungwon would slip into a spot next to him and he would create some stupid excuse to switch places. How he’d go tense whenever Jungwon would drift a little too close to him.
Like right now, frozen under Jungwon’s warm weight.
“You aren’t very subtle,” Jungwon says. He laughs, but it lacks mirth. “Better luck next time.”
His tone isn’t accusing, but Jay’s stomach twists into knots anyway. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, as if there is someone else in this room that may hear him. “I didn’t want to put any more stress on you.”
“How would it put stress on me?”
It’s a question that travels too far into uncharted, dangerous territory. A question Jay can’t answer without changing the trajectory of their friendship forever, without potentially upsetting the balance of their group. He opens his mouth and searches for an answer within all those buzzing in his head-
My feelings are a burden. You already carry the weight of seven on your shoulders.
Feeling this way is selfish of me.
Actually, I don’t think I love you; I love you.
Nothing comes out.
Jungwon sits up. The mattress dips and the covers shift as he twists in place until their eyes meet.
“Jay-hyung.” His fingers brush against Jay’s, careful, cautious. “You feel so far away.”
“I’m right here.”
Another little, mirthless laugh. “You are.”
The K-drama is still playing in the background but both of them have stopped paying attention to it long ago. Jungwon faces him fully now, his fingertips pressed to Jay’s, their knees brushing. They’re close, close enough that everything in Jay’s vision is pink.
Pink hair, pink cheeks, pink lips.
(In a polychrome fantasy in Jay’s head, one of them leans closer. They kiss.)
The hand loose at Jungwon’s side reaches up. His fingers ghost the angle of Jay’s jaw and linger there, as if confirming that he is truly here, right before him.
“Don’t go too far, hyung,” he says. “I need you.”
Oh.
Abruptly, it all vanishes: Jungwon’s fingers, his warmth, his lack of distance. Collecting his phone, Jungwon shuts it off, turning away to fluff up his pillow. “We should sleep,” he says. “Especially since we’ll have to wake up early tomorrow.”
With that, he slips under the covers, his back to him. Jay stares at it, the full weight of everything that has just occurred sinking into him.
Don’t go too far, hyung. I need you.
All this time, he’s been going about this all wrong. Instead of reaping the results he had expected, all he’s done is hurt Jungwon.
And now here they are: Jungwon’s back to him, a distance of only a few spaces between them and yet, so great.
Fix it, something whispers to him. Bring him close.
Jay isn’t thinking much—no, scratch that, he isn’t thinking at all when he reaches out. Right now, all that matters is making the other smile once more, to turn his eyes back to him.
His hands settle onto the curve of Jungwon’s waist and he doesn’t pause to think as he drags the other back against him, the sudden movements reaping a squeak from Jungwon.
Soft hair tickles the underside of his chin and Jay nestles himself closer. Here, with Jungwon tucked between his chest and arms, he can feel the other’s rabbit-quick heartbeat, can hear his quickening breath. “How about this? Is this close enough?”
For one, agonizing moment, Jungwon doesn’t reply. It drags on long enough that Jay nearly releases him and backs away, already readying himself to apologize profusely and attempt to preserve their friendship even a fraction.
It never comes to that. Jungwon twists in his grip, arms coming up to curve around his chest. His hands snatch fistfuls of the back of Jay’s shirt, anchoring himself close as he can be as he buries his face into the crook of his neck.
His voice comes out muffled. “This is good.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
His response is nothing more than a soft sound, but it’s enough. Because it’s always been simple for him and Jungwon, it’s always been easy—he had been an idiot to complicate it.
Jay’s hands tangle themselves behind Jungwon’s back, pulling the two of them closer—until the sounds of their breathing meld into one, until it’s impossible to tell whose heart it is that sings so loudly in the quiet. His nose nudges against the other’s temple.
“Don’t go too far from me either, Jungwon-ah. I want you so much it scares me.”
Jungwon doesn’t reply. His fingers curl further into the creases of Jay’s shirt, and for now, it’s enough.
(In a fantasy in Jay’s head, they wake up entangled, thighs slotted between each other and hands tangled through. And it’s normal, it’s comfortable.
Jungwon smiles at him.
Jay smiles back.)