Archive of Our Own

Hongbin is running.

He knows that it’s just his luck to get off work late, then get cornered by his boss, and then get caught in the afternoon traffic, but none of that matters. He’s made it to the café in record time (courtesy of a few traffic violations along the way). Before he joins the massive queue gathered outside of the eatery, Hongbin ducks into the bookstore across the street, careful to keep his hood up, his face mask on, and obnoxiously overlarge sunglasses hiding his face. He bypasses an employee who tries to hand him a flyer and nearly bowls over the bestseller display before he manages to locate the washroom at the back of the store. Slipping inside and quickly locking the door behind him, Hongbin heaves a sigh of relief and dumped the nondescript tote bag he was carrying onto the ground.

Out spilled the tools he’ll need to face his upcoming battle: a pair of wash-out jeans, limited edition fan t-shirt, a sweater, a pair of round tortoise shell glasses, and a wig. It’s an attractive light brown that does a pretty good job of hiding Hongbin’s black hair; it’s the most essential part of his disguise. He changes in a hurry, stuffing the brand name clothes he was wearing with a baggy sweater pulled overtop into the tote bag without an ounce of care (his manager would definitely chew him out for it later). Once the wig is pulled securely over his head and the glasses are perched on his nose, Hongbin gives himself a quick once-over. No loose strands? Check. Overlarge spectacles hiding the shape of his face? Done. Ass looking good in those jeans? Of course, he picked them out knowing how nice his butt would look in them.

Satisfied, Hongbin reached into the front pocket of the bag and pulled out his platinum level fan pass, tucked away inside a protective plastic sleeve and covered in little stickers. It dangles from the lanyard he’d brought at his favourite concert. Pulling it over his head, he slides the straps of his bag over his shoulder and sneaks out of the bathroom unnoticed.

The lineup outside the café has grown even longer in the five minutes he’d spent in the washroom, if that was possible, but Hongbin walks up to the front of the crowd and flashes his badge at the organizers on site. They check it, nod, and then wave him through. Hongbin flounces by, trying not to appear too smug as the rest of the crowd, with their general passes and one-day admissions, grumble behind him as he gets priority access.

It’s warm and cozy inside of the café, even with the entire layout re-formatted to accommodate for the stage and crowd attending the autograph event today. Hongbin treats himself to a large soy milk latte before he selects a seat up at the front row with a handful of other platinum level fans, all of them decked out in official fan goods with large, professional-looking cameras hanging around their necks. Hongbin unzips his sweater to show off his t-shirt too, wishing he had enough time to drop by his apartment for his own camera. His phone will have to do for today.

The event officially starts at three in the afternoon, and at with fifteen minutes to spare, the rest of the fans are allowed into the venue. It gets noisy real quick, and Hongbin slouches a little in his seat, fiddling with the edge of his pass as he watches the fans (mostly female) file in and pick their seats. They carry all sorts of things with them: posters, photobooks, individual photo cards and gifts.

Hongbin rarely prepares presents; he knows from personal experience that they’ll either get thrown away or randomly distributed to other members in the agency mostly because there is no way one person can store the sheer amount of miscellaneous objects by themselves. The only time he did bring a gift was for the birthday event and the fifth anniversary fanparty nearly a year ago.

The lights suddenly dimmed, and a tidal wave of shrieks sound from the audience in the back. Hongbin winces, but then the announcer is speaking and Kim Wonshik is walking up onto the stage, smiling and waving and bowing to his screaming fans.

Hongbin cheers along with them. This is the only time he’ll get to do it out loud and in public, even if it does embarrass him a little yelling like that.

Wonshik takes a seat at the table at the center of the stage and picks up the microphone, smiling as he spoke into it.

“Good afternoon, everybody.”

The low timbre of his voice, magnified several times by the speakers in the corners of the room, is the same voice wrecks a catastrophic effect on Hongbin’s internal psyche at least several times throughout the day. Sometimes it’s in the form of listening to Wonshik’s music through his headphones during car rides, sometimes it’s listening to him perform live, and other times it’s when they run into each other at performance locations or at award shows. Those are the times Hongbin really has to fight to pretend Wonshik doesn’t have an impossibly knee-weakening affect on him at all.

“How are you guys doing today? You didn’t skip class to be here, did you?”

Choruses of yes and no’s sound at varying intervals from the audience, and Honbing cringes internally. Most of the fans here are from high school, and while he’s not old old, thank you very much, he’s on the tail end with some of the elder fans, most of the university or college-aged ones. Wonshik laughs, a deep baritone that reverberates around the room, and Hongbin barely manages to keep himself from melting into a puddle of goo.

“Don’t go missing classes on my account,” Wonshik scolds lightly, shaking his finger at them. “Now, let’s get this autograph session underway so you won’t have to walk home in the dark, shall we?”

Stupid Wonshik, Hongbin thinks as he’s ushered into the line of platinum pass holders. Stupid dumb Wonshik, being sweet and kind to his fans. Hongbin doesn’t think his heart can take that kind of sappiness.

He shuffles along and keeps his head down as he waits his turn. There’s always a part of him that’s terrified of being exposed, or worse, have someone in the crowd recognize him and out him to Wonshik. He discreetly adjusts the back of his wig and finds that it’s still in place. Small comforts, Hongbin supposes.

Wonshik is a devastating mix of handsome and beautiful when Hongbin finally walks up to him, photobook open in shaky hands. His hair is black, like Hongbin’s, but it’s longer and hangs low around his eyes, making Wonshik tip his chin up slightly to look up at Hongbin. Thin silver hoops glitter in his earlobes, and sitting on his head is an honest-to-god flower crown, one laced with pretty white roses and green stems. Wonshik’s mouth curves upwards when he recognizes Hongbin, who’s feeling slightly dazed by the whole image.

“Sanghyuk! You’re here again,” Wonshik greets, extending a hand for Hongbin to shake. He takes it and tries not to tremble even more.

“Yup, I’m back,” he mumbles quietly, ducking his head as he watches Wonshik flip open to the middle of the book, the one with the two-page spread of him reclining in a leather armchair while wearing a red and gold three-piece suit. It’s a really, really nice picture.

“How’s life?” Wonshik asks, and Hongbin watches as he scribbles out the name he pulled out of his ass to give to Wonshik at the first fansign Hongbin ever snuck into, way back in the day. Because of that, he now has several photobooks, posters and album covers autographed for one Han Sanghyuk, thank you for always supporting me, my most dedicated fan, hope to see you again, and not a single one under his own name. That’s fine though, because if Wonshik ever found out Hongbin’s true identity he might actually die of embarrassment.

“Life’s good, the usual, you know.”

Wonshik raises his head with an expectant look in his eyes, and Hongbin notices that he’s dawdling with the marker and the book, waiting for Hongbin to elaborate. He swallows hard and tries to stop the fluttering of his heart. Motions like that can’t be healthy for him.

“Uh, midterms are almost over, so... yeah. I’m planning on taking a long break after that,” Hongbin lies. He hasn’t done a midterm in ages, but he does plan to take a really extended vacation once he’s done the last leg of his collaboration stage with Jaehwan. Eighteen shows packed into a little more than three weeks’s time had been hell on his sleep schedule.

“That’s great!” Wonshik says, brightening. He hands the photobook back to Hongbin and beams at him. “I’m sure you did well. Get some rest, soon, alright?”

Hongbin looks down at his feet again, struggling not to smile. If he did, his dimples would be a dead giveaway.

“Thanks,” he whispers, and Wonshik chuckles, reaching out to pat his arm fondly.

“I’ll see you at my next event,” he says, and Hongbin nods. He’ll try to be there, alright.

“Yeah. See you.”

One of the guards ushers him offstage and he’s given a complimentary gift as a part of his platinum pass pack: it’s one of those rubber bracelets with funny patterns or words printed on the side. The one he gets today has the title of Wonshik’s latest song and a cheer up message written on the bright yellow material. Hongbin has about a billion of those just sitting around in mason jars and collecting in small piles on top of his vanity, but he never threw any of them away. He can only hope Wonshik’s management comes up with a wider variety of gifts soon.

He wants to head back to his spot, but his phone is suddenly vibrating in his pocket, and when Hongbin pulls it out to check, he gulps, because the caller ID is flashing ‘Han Sanghyuk’. He glances around furtively before hurrying to the back of the café, barricading himself inside the bathroom.

“Hello?” he whispers, wincing at the echo of his voice in the empty men’s room.

“Hey, where the heck are you?” Sanghyuk— the real Sanghyuk— asks.

“I went... out,” Hongbin says evasively, fidgeting with the material of his lanyard. “Why? You need me?”

“No duh,” the assistant manager says, exasperated. “Hakyeon’s ready to tear the place down to look for you, he thinks you’ve been abducted by another crazy fan.”

“What— god, no, I just went out to get something to eat, to take a breather. Is he still looking for me?”

“No, because I stopped him and called you,” Sanghyuk says, and somewhere in the back Hongbin fancies he hears Hakyeon swearing at him. Hakyeon almost never cusses. He’s in trouble. “Anyway, just hurry back as soon as you can, alright? Can’t have the company’s biggest pop star wandering by himself in the streets without supervision.”

“I’ll be right there,” he sighs, scratching the back of his neck, where the strands of fake hair tickles him. “And tell him not to send a whole group of bodyguards looking for me if he wants to stay subtle.”

“Be back in ten minutes then,” Sanghyuk counters before hanging up, snickering. Hongbin looks down at his phone screen and grumbles, upset that he’d miss the general chat segment of the fansign. On the other hand, he counts it lucky that neither Hakyeon or Sanghyuk had pressed him for his location, so it’s probably best not to push his luck any further. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Hongbin leaves the bathroom and sneaks out of the café with no small amount of regret. Who knows when Wonshik will hold another event, or if he’ll be able to attend.

He swaps his spectacles for the big sunglasses and hurries down the block to find his car.

+

It began with an incredible lapse of judgment on Hongbin’s part and from there on he supposed he only had himself to blame for the sheer swiftness of his descent into the pit of no return.

He and Wonshik debuted as pop stars around the same time, so of course the media turned it into a huge competition frenzy between the two of them. Two young guys, born only months apart, both equally talented and eager to get their name out in the crowds. The first six months of the debut had, arguably, been the most apocalyptic downward spiral the entertainment spectrum had ever witnessed. Performance dates clashed. Song styles overlapped. Fans quickly took sides and forum wars exploded on the internet. It was madly overwhelming, and Hongbin, naive and dumb, had fallen for the trap the spun for him. Wonshik, also naive but a little smarter, did not.

All it took was one terrible, misguided diss from him at Wonshik’s music during some random teen music award show to create the image of pop singer Lee Hongbin, the eye-candy heartthrob and relentless Wonshik-hater that despised everything Wonshik did or said. That’s the side of him that gets thrown around a lot, even though it’s been six years since he became a big name, even though he’s six years older, and even after he did his best to dispel most the rumours about him ‘feuding’ with Wonshik. Somewhere in that madness, twenty-two year old Lee Hongbin, the awkward bean and quiet guitar player that wrote his own music and shied away from the incessant harassment of the press, got lost along the way.

+

Hakyeon is a good manager. Hongbin loves the man. But Hakyeon is also scary as hell when he’s annoyed, so sometimes Hongbin is a little bit afraid of him. Right now would be a prime example of being afraid of Hakyeon.

“How many times have I said it?” Hakyeon asks, smiling far too widely to actually be happy at Hongbin through his reflection in the mirror. Hongbin gulps as he grips the armrests of the make up chair; Hakyeon chose the best possible moment to ambush him because he knows the stylists won’t let Hongbin out until their work is done. He is, effectively, trapped. “I don’t mind you going out to catch a break, Lee Hongbin. I know how tough the idol life can be. God knows when the last time you or I slept in past three in the morning was. But I’ll say it again for you, in case you forgot: if you’re going to slip out on your own, you have. To. Let. Me. Know.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, wincing as a comb drags out all the tangles in his hair in preparation for his upcoming stage. “I won’t do it again.”

Hakyeon exhales through his nose, making his nostrils flare. Sanghyuk immediately pops up beside him and pokes Hakyeon in the nose, making him shriek.

“Sanghyuk! Will you stop doing that!”

“You guys are way too serious sometimes,” Sanghyuk chortles. “Hakyeon, stop mothering Hongbin so much, he’s not a kid. And Hongbin, think about your situation a little more. If you actually did get mobbed in the street I for one would not be stepping in to yank you back out.”

“Thanks,” Hongbin says through gritted teeth. The hiss of the hairspray coats a sticky mass of chemicals into the back of his head, adding as much volume as possible to his hair. He looks like a damn mushroom.

“You’re pretty but you’re not pretty enough to die for,” Sanghyuk singsongs as the stylists usher Hongbin out of the chair. He waits for them to clear out of the room before he forces his bangs back to the sides of his face and forcibly flattens his hair back down onto his scalp.

“What’s the schedule for today?”

“After your performance with Jaehwan we’re going to head down to that athletic wear photoshoot,” Hakyeon informs him as he scrolls through a document on his tablet at terrifying speeds. “Then you’ll get the rest of the afternoon off. Make sure you pack your bags tonight because the flight tomorrow morning is at six. If you sleep in and forget your toothbrush again, you can buy your own for five bucks at the airport.”

“That was one time,” Hongbin whines, smoothing down the front of his shirt. Sanghyuk passes him his headset and the wireless system to clip into the back of his belt. They struggle to get all the wires in place before briskly making their way backstage, with Hongbin trying to fix the unfortunate wedgie he’s gotten while Hakyeon fields a call in Japanese on his left and Sanghyuk reads the latest manga update on the tablet as he walks on Hongbin’s right. A rookie rock band is standing outside of their dressing room, faces still pimply and wardrobe choices a mess of classic clichés, and their eyes go wide as Hongbin walks past. Hongbin stares straight ahead and tries to look like he knows what he’s doing while his underwear rides further and further up his butt.

Jaehwan is already waiting backstage when Hongbin arrives. He greets his partner in hushed voices as they do a quick sound check together.

“Can’t believe we’re on our final leg of this tour,” Jaehwan says giddily as he bounces on the balls of his feet. Hongbin envies the man’s energy from time to time, but most of the time he just wears himself out watching Jaehwan act cute and cheesy to his fans.

“Are you gonna cry at our finale?” he teases instead, nudging Jaehwan in the ribs. Jaehwan fakes a pout and wiggles around.

“Are you saying you won’t?!”

“Duh,” Hongbin says, his tone sounding dangerously like Sanghyuk’s petulant voice, and shakes it off. Then a member of the stage crew arrives, hair sticking up all over his head and a frazzled expression on his face as he hustles them off, and Hongbin promptly forgets all about his troubles as he performs. It’s a good crowd today, a combination of his own fans and Jaehwan’s admirers, so they get a healthy amount of cheers, cute banners and only one pair of panties flung onstage. It was orange. Hongbin covers it with a microphone stand so he doesn’t have to look at it when he sings.

He’s satisfied when he and Jaehwan disappear behind the curtains at the end of their performance and meet up with Hakyeon, squeezing through the people taking care of the next performance and the props being wheeled around backstage. Jaehwan has an arm slung around him and Hongbin’s got a bit of a goofy grin on his own face as well, his good mood elevating him until they walk out into the hall and he accidentally runs headlong into a very solid chest.

“Hurmph!”

He staggers backwards at the unexpected recoil, and hands shoot out and grab his shoulders and steady him. Hongbin manages to regain his balance and looks up, an apology on the tip of his tongue until he finds himself face-to-face with Wonshik.

“Careful,” Wonshik rumbles, arching an eyebrow as he smiles sheepishly down at Hongbin.

And Hongbin, articulate as ever, blurts out a panicked, “Why are you here?”

Hakyeon jabs Hongbin’s back with two sharp fingers and he has to fight back a squawk at the sudden pain.

“I’m performing after you,” Wonshik says, wonderfully unaffected by Hongbin’s bluntness. “Didn’t you read the schedule for today?”

Hongbin flushes and looks away. “Not exactly,” he says, shooting Hakyeon a look. He’s silently praying to whatever god might be listening that Sanghyuk, who’s currently gone to get the car, wouldn’t come back until Wonshik left. Meanwhile, Hakyeon shrugs back, unconcerned by Hongbin’s flustered appearance.

“You didn’t ask,” he accuses, and Hongbin rolls his eyes, only to settle them on somebody he didn’t notice standing nearby because of all the confusion: Jung Taekwoon, who is in fact not anything remotely close to being a singer but is instead a player on the national soccer team that would normally have no business nosing around a performance venue. But he’s also Jaehwan’s sweet, adorable, romantic boyfriend (Jaehwan’s words), and is presently eyeing the close proximity between Hongbin and Jaehwan with a bone-chilling, goosebumps-inducing, terrifying death glare (his words). He practically flings Jaehwan’s arm off him and in the process sadly dislodges Wonshik’s hands on his upper arms.

“Taekwoon!” Jaehwan cries estatically, already distracted, and takes a running leap at his boyfriend. Taekwoon caught the singer mid-jump and grunted as the weight made him walk backwards into a wall. “You came to see me!”

Taekwoon mutters something incoherent, but he tilts his face up to press a kiss to Jaehwan’s cheek, and Jaehwan squeals happily, wiggling in Taekwoon’s arms. Hongbin pinches the bridge of his nose as Wonshik chuckles.

“Cute, aren’t they?” he asks Hongbin, smiling. “I ran into Taekwoon backstage and brought him over so he wouldn’t get lost.”

Hongbin fixes his gaze somewhere around Wonshik’s shoulder and nods once, fighting to steady the crazy beating of his heart. “Sure, cute.”

“Good job on stage today, by the way,” Wonshik adds, apparently happy to keep the conversation going, oblivious to Hongbin’s internal struggle to draw the balance between casual indifference and his constant gaze towards the end of the hall, watching in case Sanghyuk re-appears. He looks like he’s developing a really bad twitch. “You sounded amazing.”

“T-thanks,” Hongbin says, awkwardly lacing his fingers together, wondering how he could usher Wonshik along without appearing rude or shortening the already limited amount of time they get to talk to each other.

“I’d come watch your stages if I had more time,” Wonshik started to say, wistful, and Hongbin barely had a moment stare at him, cheeks growing red at the sincerity of Wonshik’s tone before the stage crew approached them, gesturing for Wonshik to go on stage. Wonshik nods at them and waves to Taekwoon, Jaehwan, and Hakyeon before patting Hongbin on the arm, reminiscent of the same way he’d done to the ‘Sanghyuk’ at the fansign the other day. “I’m up! See you guys around!”

“Bye, Wonshikkie!” Jaehwan yells. “Thanks for helping my boyfriend get un-lost!”

Taekwoon scowls and pinches Jaehwan in the hip, making the man yelp. Wonshik winks at them and strides away after that, the tail of his customized silver suit flapping as his long legs carried him forwards. Hongbin watches him go, doing his best to keep his jaw from unhinging itself as he admired Wonshik’s broad shoulders, the elegant line of his neck to his shoulders, and the fit trim of his waist. 

This was terrible for him.

“Hongbin,” Hakyeon calls, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We have to shut the door when they’re performing.”

“What? O-oh, right,” he mumbles, abashed, and shuts the door to the backstage, but not without one final peek at Wonshik, who was adjusting his in-ear piece as he got ready to walk on stage. Wonshik doesn’t use a headset when he performes, often choosing to rap and, on the rare occasion, sing directly into a handheld microphone instead. Hongbin bit his lip and pushed the door shut. He wanted to listen to Wonshik rap live today now that he knew the man is here, but he has the photoshoot to attend and they’ve already loitered around long enough.

He turns around to see Sanghyuk standing amongst them now to supposedly retrieve him and Hakyeon, but is now bullying Taekwoon by lifting him and Jaehwan up together and spinning them around at the same time. Hakyeon contributes to the absurdity by taking a million photos on his phone for future ammo.

The crisis had been adverted, but sometimes Hongbin has to wonder if he’ll ever hang out with normal people. Then again, none of them would understand the difficulties of fame the same way his friends do.

+

He misses Wonshik’s next fansign because of his and Jaehwan’s performance finale, but there’s a quick meet-and-greet scheduled at the radio station Wonshik is doing an interview at that he can attend after a hectic morning of practice, vocal training, and exercising. Hongin practically blazes through his day with incredible energy and nearly runs over his trainer when he’s done at the gym for the day. He launches himself into the shower, cleaning in record time and drives down to the location. After parking a block away, he sneaks into the building at one of the less-used side visitor’s entrance, trying not to appear too suspicious as he signs in and scurries along.

He finds an empty bathroom and heads off to change inside of it. His outfit is better coordinated this time around; black skinny jeans, a nice shirt, and a loose jacket thrown over top. The tortoise shell glasses are back on his face and he is squeezing himself back out of the stall, adjusting the back of his wig when he nearly walks into another person coming in.

“Whoops—” a horribly familiar voice says, and Hongbin snaps his head up, staring in horror at Wonshik again as he stepped into the men’s room. Hongbin has to physically bite down on his lips to cut off an embarrassing scream, but Wonshik, just like their meeting backstage a week ago, brightens when he recognizes Hongbin’s alter-ego and remains unaware to Hongbin’s internal panic.

“Sanghyuk!” Wonshik says, grinning at him. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Y-y-you—” Hongbin splutters. “Aren’t you supposed to be recording?”

“Yeah, but we’re on a commercial break,” Wonshik says, heading over to the sink to wash his hands. He’s dressed up today again, wearing a floaty white shirt made of the thinnest material possible. The narrow tattoo inked onto Wonshik’s clavicle peeks out from the front, where a few buttons sit undone, and the whole ensemble is shoved into past a leather belt into tight pants. Hongbin has to physically force his head to turn the other way so Wonshik won’t see him staring at his ass as he bends get some soap.

“That’s nice,” he croaks, and Wonshik chuckles, inspecting the faint amount of eyeliner accenting his cutely droopy eyes before he faces Hongbin again.

“Are you here for the meet-and-greet?” he asks, and Hongbin nods, clutching his bag for dear life.

“That’s great!” Wonshik enthuses. “You weren’t at the fansign last time so I was a little disappointed, but I figured you probably had school and couldn’t make it.”

“You remembered that I didn’t come?” Hongbin says, blinking in surprise. Wonshik chuckles and claps him on the shoulder.

“Of course, I remember all of my fans,” he grins. “Especially since I don’t get a lot of male fans, but you show up almost every single time.”

“Ah,” Hongbin says, staring helplessly at Wonshik as the other practically glows at him. But then he notices, even under the light layer of makeup and perfectly coifed hair, there’s something a little off about Wonshik. He looks tired, worn out, and Hongbin couldn’t help but blurt out, “Are you resting well?”

“Me?” Wonshik says, taken aback. “Oh— yeah, yeah, it just gets hectic on the road, you know?” This time, Hongbin knows he’s not imagining it; Wonshik’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he shuffles his feet a little, a nervous tic he’s had since debut.

“Your fans will worry,” Hongbin says solemnly, and that’s a feeling he’s familiar with. When he fainted after a performance because of overwork once, his fans flooded his social media sites with concern, well-wishes and sad emojis. He’d felt so utterly bad for scaring them like that, and knowing Wonshik, with his big grins and bleeding heart, would feel even worse about it.

“Fans like you?” Wonshik teases, and Hongbin wills himself not to turn red. “Don’t worry, I’m good. I’m just very busy with schedules and promotions, but seeing you guys show up even for something as simple as saying hi really makes my day.”

“You’re cheesy,” Hongbin says without thinking, and Wonshik throws his head back and laughs, loud and clear.

“Can’t deny that one,” he agrees. “Well, I gotta jet now, but I’ll see you later outside, right?”

“For sure,” Hongbin nods, and Wonshik gives him one last smile before exiting the bathroom. The door swings shut, and only then does Hongbin allow himself to slump against the wall. He didn’t know if Wonshik had lied to him just to make him feel better, but if he did, Hongbin could practically feel his heart melting at the gesture. Wonshik really did take care of his fans, and it made him look sadly down at his ridiculous get up. He’s such a coward, still too embarrassed to properly confront Wonshik about the comment he made all those years back. Now he’s reduced to sneaking around in between his own job and hiding out in bathrooms to swap outfits; the only upside is Hongbin’s gotten mad efficient at changing out of costumes in between performances. He can’t even give Wonshik encouraging words as Lee Hongbin, and really, Hongbin thinks with a dejected sigh, he only has himself to blame for that.

Then his hand brushes against the automatic hand dryer, accidentally setting it off, and this time he really does shriek out loud when the machine’s noisy whirring scares the living daylights out of him.

+

He discovers what’s eating at Wonshik the next day.

For a pop star, Hongbin is notoriously bad at keeping up with gossip and tabloids, but he maintains that it’s Hakyeon’s job to deal with all that nonsense. It just so happens that Hakyeon was away at his second job at a dance academy yesterday, and thus unable to update Hongbin on all the inner workings of the entertainment industry. But he’s back today and strutting around the office while Sanghyuk taps away on the laptop and Hongbin clutches the neck of his guitar until his fingers go white as he re-reads the latest headline from some trashy celebrity site on the tablet with disbelief.

“—starts a diss battle with rapper Kim Wonshik and calls his music ‘garbage’, ‘unoriginal’, and ‘not the work of a real rapper’— is this shit for real?!” Hongbin yells, glancing around the room at the other two.

“Smack talk and disses in this industry aren’t uncommon,” Hakyeon says. “And don’t raise your voice indoors.”

“Have these people never heard Wonshik rap?” Hongbin demands, jabbing his finger at the screen. “Don’t they know that he composes all of his own work? Have they even read his lyrics? Why don’t they love themselves more and listen to Wonshik’s songs?”

“Maybe they should listen to you talk about him instead,” Sanghyuk jokes, and Hongbin slants him a glare.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Hard not to. Why don’t you tell him this stuff yourself instead of screaming it at us?”

“It’ll be weird,” Hongbin mutters, forcing his fingers to uncurl from their death grip on his guitar. Hakyeon snorts loudly.

“Oh my god, Lee Hongbin, if this is about that so-called feud between you and Wonshik we all know it’s bull. Wonshik doesn’t think badly of you for something you said when you were a fresh noob and had no idea how badly things could be blown out of proportions, so he’s certainly not gonna be like that now.”

“But all this— all this trash talk,” Hongbin says, and he finds his voice dropping into a shamed, mortified whisper as he forces the words out of him, “That’s all the things I bashed him for back then.”

Hakyeon, damn him, just stares down at Hongbin like an exasperated parent. “And you apologized for it, didn’t you? And Wonshik accepted your apology, right?”

“Yes—”

“So what’s the problem then?”

“I’m no better than them, and it’s just so hypocritical of me—”

“To be a good friend to Wonshik?” Hakyeon says incredulously. “How exactly is it a bad thing to show just how much you’ve changed in a situation like this and be supportive of him?”

Hongbin has to bite his lip then, because Hakyeon has a really good point.

“I don’t know what to say to him though,” he says meekly, and Hakyeon sighs, reaching over to ruffle Hongbin’s hair.

“Nobody’s making you run out and make a speech about why Wonshik is great and those morons who said all those things about him probably know jack-all about music themselves. In fact, don’t even think about doing that, PR will have our heads if you go off the charts like that.”

“Obviously,” Hongbin grumbles, kicking Hakyeon lightly in the shin. “I’m not that dumb.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sanghyuk says mischievously, and Hongbin throws his guitar pick at him. “Just go meet up with Wonshik later on today at that award show pre-recording everybody’s attending and give him a little pep talk.”

“I don’t do pep talks,” Hongbin says, dangerously close to whining, but his brain is already turning, trying to find some way around this. How could he actually find a way to drop by and talk to Wonshik?

A sudden thought occurs to him, and he looks down at his tote bag. The light brown strands of his wig peek out at him from under his bunched-up sweater. Hongbin swallows the lump in his throat and clutches at his guitar.

Maybe there is a way around after all.

+

It’s a coward’s way, but it is a way, nonetheless, and Hongbin’s sunk this far anyway. At least, that’s what he tells himself over and over as he practically books it out of the stage the moment the shoot ends. He doesn’t even give Hakyeon a moment to stop him in the stands before he’s racing past the camera crew, other famous people and their management loitering around in the seats. His tote back whacks against his back as he throws himself into the closest storage room and strips off his clothes. The only thing left in his bag from the night before is a pair of baggy sweatpants, a hideous t-shirt Jaehwan left behind with him during their tour, and a snapback. He tosses the snapback back into his bag and pulls out the pants and shirt, which is patterned with bright yellow pineapples. Hongbin grimaces at the sight of it and tugs it over his head. If the paparazzi caught him now...

This time, he hangs a volunteer badge from his neck when he walks out to avoid suspicion. It’s a busy place, but Hongbin would really rather not have anyone question him about this or catch him in this ridiculous get up, for that matter. Famous or not, he wouldn’t want to be caught dead in those clothes either way.

He runs down the hall towards the dressing rooms and stops by the vending machine to buy a bottle of iced coffee. That’ll be his Trojan horse into Wonshik’s room, because it’s already creepy enough of him to disguise himself and pretend to sneak into the recording hall to see Wonshik. But a peace offering could potentially smooth things over, right?

Who am I kidding, Hongbin thought blandly as he came to a halt in front of Wonshik’s dressing rom. This was going to look so sketch.

He knocks twice and waits, palms clammy and knees jittery. He can already envision all the ways this could go wrong. What if Wonshik’s managers were in there? What if Wonshik freaks out and calls security?

The door finally opens, and Hongbin jumps a foot into the air, startled despite the fact that he’s the one who knocked. Wonshik appears in the doorway, and he looks a mighty surprised to see him.

“Sanghyuk? What are you doing here?” he asks, and Hongbin realizes, quite belatedly, that he hadn’t thought far enough ahead to plan what he wanted to say.

“Uh,” he says eloquently, and Wonshik’s eyes dart down to the pass around his neck.

“You’re volunteering here?” he says, and Hongbin looks down too.

“Um, yeah! Yeah, I am. I just. Some of my friends are here too so I thought I’d help out as well,” he lies, and then holds out the coffee to Wonshik. “Got you something. You looked, uh, tired on stage.”

“Oh, thanks,” Wonshik says, taking the bottle from him. “I am tired, but you didn’t have to go out of your way to get me anything.”

“I wanted to,” Hongbin mumbles, rubbing his arm self-consciously. “I— I saw what they were saying about you in the tabloids yesterday, and I just wanted to drop by and tell you that, um, you have a lot of fans that don’t agree with that at all, and they’re all behind you, and they’ll always support you, so you shouldn’t let any of those comments get to you! And, yeah,” he finishes a little lamely, and for a moment there’s silence. Hongbin rather got the feeling that Wonshik had not been prepared for any of this at all.

“Wow,” Wonshik says, and he grins, looking a little flustered. “Thanks for telling me that, man. That’s real nice of you.”

Oh Wonshik, Hongbin thinks. You’re the one who’s too nice, even to the random dude that basically stalked you to your dressing room to sprout motivational talk.

“I’m just telling the truth,” he says, ducking his head and stares into Wonshik’s dressing room, face too hot to maintain eye contact. Instead, he takes in the little messes that is Wonshik’s personal space: the designer backpack, clothes scattered on top of chairs and tables, a notebook with some pens, headphones, and Wonshik’s phone, which is playing a rather familiar song Hongbin hadn’t noticed until now. That’s when he realizes, it’s not just any song; it’s one Hongbin knows very well because he’s the one who composed it.

“Are you listening to Lee Hongbin?” he asks in shock.

“What? Oh! Oh, yeah, I am,” Wonshik says excitedly, leaving the door open as he reaches over to grab his phone. “You listen to him too?”

Impossible not to, seeing that I am him. “Kind of,” Hongbin mumbles, willing his face not to turn red. “But I don’t know him, uh, well.”

“You should definitely check out his songs,” Wonshik enthuses, immediately showing Hongbin the cover art. He blushes to the roots of his hair when he sees it’s the shirtless one they did for him a while back. “They’re really soothing to listen too, especially his guitar compositions. I usually play them when I’m trying to de-stress myself or relax before I sleep.”

Hongbin’s head spins. “D-do you actually?” he asks, because this is not what he’d expected to learn about Wonshik when he came barging over with coffee.

Wonshik laughs, cheeks tinted a little red as he rubbed his nose bashfully. “Yeah, I really love his stuff. I’ve downloaded all of his albums too. My manager loves to make fun of me, saying I’ve got a crush. But I’ll admit to that only when I get Hongbin to actually autograph one of the CD cases or photobooks I own.”

A crush. This is officially too much for his poor heart to handle.

“That’s nice,” Hongbin stammers, trying and failing to compose himself, and Wonshik grins lopsidedly, about to say something else, but then they’re interrupted by a familiar voice shouting from down the hall.

“Hey!”

Hongbin turns, and to his absolute horror, it’s Sanghyuk that’s running towards him, a hassled expression on his face. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no.

“Where on earth did you run off to again?” Sanghyuk demands when he skids to a stop in front of Hongbin, breathing hard. “Thank god Hakyeon’s in the bathroom right now or you’d be in so much trouble.” He pauses, taking a breath, and then looks down at Hongbin’s attire. “And what the heck are you even wearing— isn’t that Jaehwan’s shirt?”

Hongbin opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Rather, he’s not even sure what he can say; he’s just certain this train wreck has already bypassed its point of no return long, long ago.

“...do you know him, Sanghyuk?” Wonshik asks, sounding lost, and the damage is done.

“What did you call him?” Sanghyuk asks, looking between Wonshik and Hongbin with furrowed brows. Wonshik blinks.

“Sanghyuk? His name is Sanghyuk,” Wonshik says, pointing at Hongbin.

“No he’s not,” Sanghyuk frowns, and before Hongbin could stop him, says, “I’m Sanghyuk; that’s Hongbin.”

“Hong— wait, what?” Wonshik asks, eyes going wide in confusion. “What are you talking about?” Now Sanghyuk is staring at Hongbin and Wonshik is looking between them and Hongbin’s eyes are trained onto the floor, feeling the heat creep up his neck and into his cheeks as the tense silence stretches on and on.

Then Hongbin exhales shakily and reaches up to slowly pull the wig off, letting his rumpled black hair spill out from under the fake brown strands. He can see Wonshik’s jaw drop in his peripherals as he combs his bangs back down with his fingers.

“Hongbin?” Wonshik says, sounding more stunned than he did angry or even disgusted. If possible, that just made everything worse and the sense of shame spread further in his chest.

“I don’t get it,” Wonshik stammers, and Hongbin removes the glasses from his face as well, folding them down with shaking hands. He is resolutely staring at anything but Wonshik.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, feeling the telltale prickling of tears in the back of his eyes. “I just— I’m sorry.”

He turns to go, unable to stand the silence anymore, but Wonshik reaches for him and grabs his wrist. It’s a soft touch, gentle and comforting, and Hongbin jerks, the tears really welling up in his eyes now. Why is Wonshik still so nice, after all that he’s done to the man?

“Hongbin, wait—”

“Just leave me alone,” he gasps, twisting out of Wonshik’s loose grasp. “I fucked up, I wasn’t— I didn’t—”

He drags his sleeve furiously over his eyes, and Wonshik falters when he sees Hongbin’s tears. Without a glance back, Hongbin turns on his heel and runs for it, footsteps loud against the tiles and throat constricting with barely restrained sobs. He hears Sanghyuk curse and apologetically bid Wonshik goodbye, running after him and shouting Hongbin’s name. He doesn’t really care where he goes, so long as he’s not back there, making a fool of himself and withering under the good will he’s receiving from Wonshik.

But he still feels the weight of Wonshik’s gaze on him the whole way out. He doesn’t have to look to know it’s full of concern he doesn’t deserve.

+

Hakyeon drags the proper story out of him when the three of them are eating lunch together two days later, and Hongbin spills about how he’s been attending Wonshik’s concerts, fansigns, and meet-and-greets pretending to be Sanghyuk for the past two years or so in between sad bites of his pizza. When he finishes, there is a very loaded silence, and Hakyeon and Sanghyuk are staring at him, food completely forgotten.

“I gotta say,” Sanghyuk finally says, pulling bits of cheese off his pizza as he talks, “That’s some pretty hardcore dedication you have for Wonshik.”

“Thanks,” Hongbin says miserably, chewing on a bell pepper. Hakyeon rolls his eyes at Sanghyuk.

“What!” Sanghyuk complains. “He wore a wig and glasses for two years just so he could see the guy outside of work. Imagine the hell we would’ve been through if Hongbin slipped up at any point in time.”

“Yeah, imagine that!” Hakyeon says, a little shrill. Hongbin winces, ready for the verbal lashing that was about to come. But then Hakyeon just takes a huge, shuddering breath, and then sighs heavily, shaking his head.

“Well, you weren’t caught,” he grouses. “But that was really irresponsible of you, Hongbin. We’re all lucky nothing ever happened.”

“I know,” Hongbin mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

“You should probably save that apology for Wonshik,” Hakyeon advises. “Sanghyuk messaged him to check up on him, but he doesn’t seem mad. He’s just really confused, if anything.”

“I’m the worst,” Hongbin groans, dropping his head onto the table with a thump.

“Nah,” Sanghyuk says, patting him soothingly on the back. “You’re just in love.”

“The worst,” Hongbin reiterates, and wishes the floor could lower him into the abyss.

“I know you don’t want to, but you’re going to have to talk to him,” Hakyeon says gently. “At least tell Wonshik what’s going on. You owe him that much.”

“I will,” Hongbin mutters, lifting his head and propping his chin up onto the table. “I’ve messed with him enough.”

“He won’t hold it against you,” Hakyeon says, and he’s smiling a little. “Oh, cheer up, Hongbin, you’re young. You didn’t do it maliciously. To be honest, it seems like all the nicest things you’ve ever said to Wonshik happened when you were wearing that dumb disguise.”

“It’s ‘cause I couldn’t face him myself,” Hongbin says, chewing his lip. “I’m a coward.”

“Not this time you’re not,” Sanghyuk says pointedly. “You’re really going as Lee Hongbin this time, so don’t fret too much about it man. Just be honest with him, and you can finally get this off your back.”

Hongbin picks up his cola and takes a morose sip, nodding warily. “No more lies,” he agrees, and Hakyeon and Sanghyuk both smile at him.

“I know Wonshik has a break in his schedule tomorrow around noon,” Hakyeon says. “Do you want to call him and meet up so you can sort this all out?”

The bite Hongbin takes has trouble going down his throat, but he nods regardless. “Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll text him.”

Hakyeon beams. “You’ve grown up so much, Hongbin,” he says brightly as he adds Wonshik’s number into Hongbin’s phone. Hongbin pulls a face at Hakyeon.

“Yeah yeah, you goof. I got it.”

They fall into amicable silence after that, eating their pizza and sipping their drinks until Sanghyuk speaks up again.

“But do you know what the weirdest part of all this is?” he asks nobody in particular. “The fact that there’s a whole collection of posters and albums and photobooks addressed to me even though I’ve never even spoken a word to Wonshik until, like, two days ago.”

Hongbin really couldn’t stop the unattractive, snorting laugh that bursts out of him this time.

+

Wonshik is waiting for him at the all-day breakfast café the following afternoon, looking more nervous than Hongbin felt, which he found odd. But he greeted Wonshik nonetheless, nerveless hands clenched together until Wonshik gives him a pointed look and curls his fingers around Hongbin’s wrist again, soft and loosely-held. He’s giving Hongbin the opportunity to pull away, but this time, Hongbin lets Wonshik hold fast. If Wonshik’s surprised by that, he manages to keep it cool as they walk into a secluded part of the restaurant, taking a seat by a quiet booth in the very back.

“So, how’s it going?” Wonshik starts, offering Hongbin a tentative smile. Hongbin smiles back weakly, gaze lowered as he speaks.

“It’s good. What about you?”

“I’ve been well,” Wonshik nods, and the conversation lulls a little after that. They pick out their food silently, and after the waitress takes their order and their menus, Hongbin inhales shakily and steels himself. It’s now or never.

“Wonshik,” he says, catching the other man’s attention. “I want to apologize to you. What I did— I swear it wasn’t done out of malice, or to make a fool out of you, but either way, I’ve been really dishonest, so I owe you an apology for my actions.”

“Oh, Hongbin,” Wonshik starts to say, and Hongbin knows he’s about to wave things off. He holds a hand up and stops Wonshik, because seriously, the man is being too nice again.

“I know you’re going to say it’s okay, but it’s not,” he says softly. “I’ve been really cold to you these past few years. I’ve never had anything against you, but I’ve always felt like those hurtful comments I made about your integrity as an artist was always a huge elephant in the room between us, and I was too scared to confront it. So I chickened out, and then went and did some of the craziest shit just to talk to you.”

Wonshik laughs softly, shaking his head. “I’ll admit you really shocked me,” he says. “But then I also remembered all the times you showed up to meet me, all of the praise you made for my music and how you tried to cheer me up after that tidbit of gossip on the internet and I just— I wasn’t even mad to begin with, really. I just wished it was you who said all those things, not the persona you were sporting at all those meet ups.”

“But it was me,” Hongbin says hurriedly, eyes wide as he leans forwards. “I meant all those things I said, I was just too chicken shit to actually say them to your face without a freaking wig or glasses on.”

Wonshik blinks at him, and then he blushes, honest-to-god blushes, turning so red his cheeks are quickly starting to resemble a tomato.

“R-really?” he stammers. “I thought— you were just saying that—”

“I brought a platinum fan pass to get your signature and to cheer you on every time you held an event,” Hongbin says, feeling his own face heat up. “I mean it. Everything I said, I meant it all.”

“Holy shit,” Wonshik says, hiding his face behind his hands, and Hongbin can’t help but think he’s cute. “I’m sorry, I’m really flustered; I can’t believe it’s been you I’ve been seeing all this time.” He pauses, and then peeks out at Hongbin through his fingers, a horrified expression on his face.

“I confessed that I had a crush on you to you,” Wonshik whispers in mortification, and Hongbin’s heart jumps into his throat. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing, please don’t look at me.”

“D-don’t say that,” Hongbin stammers, heart jackhammering in his chest, and he has to take a deep breath before admitting: “I also— also feel the same way.”

Wonshik’s eyes widen and his hands drop from his face. He’s staring open-mouthed at Hongbin. “You what?” he nearly squeaks, and the sound is so unlike anything Hongbin’s ever heard from Wonshik it makes him break out into a wide grin.

“Yeah,” he says softly, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “I’ve kind of had a crush on you for a while too.”

Wonshik stammers, starting and stopping his sentences, and thankfully he’s saved by the waitress returning with two plates, one piled high with chocolate chip pancakes and the other with blueberry waffles. They accept their food a little distractedly, and Hongbin can’t take his eyes off Wonshik, who’s shaking his head in disbelief.

“We’re such morons,” Wonshik finally says, the corners of his lips curling. “How did we manage to get this far in life?”

“Hakyeon constantly questions that about me too,” Hongbin says, remembering that terrifying smile. “But he really encouraged me to come meet with you today to sort everything out, so. I guess he really does manage everything in my life.”

“...do you like it?” Wonshik asks, playing with his fork as he stares down at his tower of pancakes. “Hanging out with me, I mean.”

“I do,” Hongbin says honestly, and warmth spreads in his chest when Wonshik’s face practically lights up. “I’d like to hang out with you more, in the future, if you’re, you know, okay with that.”

“I’m more than okay with that,” Wonshik says enthusiastically. “I feel like we’ll have a lot to chat about.”

He thinks about the past six years as he spears a blueberry onto the prongs of his fork, and nods in agreement.

“Me too,” Hongbin says, feeling a huge weight has finally been lifted from him. “Me too.”

+

They start off slow, carefully getting used to each other. It’s a little odd, seeing as they’ve technically known each for a good half of a decade already, but the dynamics have changed drastically between them. Wonshik suggests that they text, even if it’s something small like a ‘good morning’ or a picture of something they’ve had for lunch. Their chat is mostly filled with Wonshik making small talk or uploading audio clips and Hongbin sending him the pictures he doesn’t upload onto Instagram and saves for himself. They still see each other at venues and at shows, and when Hongbin hosts his own fansign even later on that month, he’s surprised by the gigantic flower basket waiting for him on the table.

“A gift from an anonymous admirer,” Sanghyuk stage-whispers to Hongbin, who’s too busy taking in the multitude of roses and forget-me-nots and the little teddy bear plush sitting in the midst of all the flowers to playfully shove Sanghyuk back.

He sends a picture to Wonshik that same day with a simple ‘thank you, I loved it’ as the caption. He knows his sincerity carries across because the next time they meet up backstage, Wonshik dares to curl his hand around Hongbin’s and quietly ask him, “Want to go out on a date sometime soon?”

Hongbin’s only regret is how restrictive their famous lives can be, so he and Wonshik have to get creative with where they go or their personal plans. First they watch a movie premiere that they can blend in with other famous people. Next, they book a private booth at an upscale restaurant downtown, and most recently, they attend a late night art show masquerade together. Protected by the flexible, decorated plastic covering his face, Hongbin links his fingers with Wonshik’s and nearly bounces off the wall in excitement, especially when he sees there’s a whole exhibition by his favourite photographer on display. They stay quite late, watching dance performances and listening to slam poetry before sneaking off for refreshments and champagne. That’s when Wonshik pulls Hongbin aside, out into the open gardens and simply draws him close, long arms wrapped around Hongbin’s lean waist as they sway comfortably under a combination of alcohol and happy exhaustion.

Hongbin twitches when Wonshik boldly tips his mask off his face, his own already pushed off to the side. Up close, he can almost see the shining adoration in the rapper’s eyes.

“May I...?” Wonshik asks quietly, his nose brushing against Hongbin’s, and Hongbin responds by kissing Wonshik first. The tentative, gentle press of lips quickly dissolves into more frantic kissing, because Wonshik is a really good kisser and now that he’s armed with that knowledge, Hongbin intends to find out just what Kim Wonshik’s tongue is capable of doing. Wonshik groans low in his throat and cradles the back of Hongbin’s head with one hand while the other spans across Hongbin’s lower back, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Come home with me tonight,” Wonshik says, his voice pitched low with want, and Hongbin melts against him, nodding frantically. “Please, Hongbin—”

“Yes,” he says, revelling in the way Wonshik’s arm tightens around him and his eyes go dark. He lives for this, can’t imagine anything better than feeling Wonshik’s warm body press against his, his mouth pressing insistent kisses against Hongbin’s lips, and he wants it all. “Yes, yes, yes.”

+

“You know what’s strange?” Wonshik asks conversationally the morning after, busy brewing coffee while Hongbin watches him from the couch, legs curled underneath him and boxers covered by the large t-shirt Wonshik loaned him earlier on.

“What?” he asks sleepily, resting his chin on a cushion as he admires the flex of muscles on Wonshik’s back as he hefts a cast iron pan onto the stovetop for breakfast.

“I’ve been addressing all the messages I wrote in your photobooks and albums to your assistant manager this whole time,” Wonshik says, shaking his head, and Hongbin laughs.

“Sanghyuk found it weird too,” he says. “But it won’t be like that anymore.”

“Are you going to attend my fansigns in person now?” Wonshik asks, grinning, and Hongbin contemplates it for a moment.

“One day I will,” he says, and doesn’t miss the way Wonshik’s eyes truly light up with joy at that promise.

+

It takes a little over four months for Hongbin to realize two things.

He first comes to acknowledge the steady disappearance of the line between them when he’s uprooting his house trying to search for one of his favourite guitars when he remembers, a little belatedly, that he left it at Wonshik’s apartment after staying over two nights ago. That’s also when he looks around his place and sees little remnants of his boyfriend scattered around his life, whether it’s the sweatshirt tossed over the back of a chair or the bulletin board covered that’s completely covered with pieces of Wonshik’s songs, little to-do lists, and polaroids of him and Hongbin together. 

He’s got a whole half of the wardrobe to himself at Wonshik’s place too, along with some books and photographs, not to mention his precious guitars. Perhaps the most difficult part of this realization is his inability to share it with Wonshik, who’s touring overseas at the moment, and Hongbin has to sprint back to the company and harass Hakyeon and Sanghyuk into listening to him rant. They listen to him spill his guts from start to finish, and then look at each other.

“He’s in love,” Sanghyuk says solemnly, and Hakyeon nods.

“He’s got it so bad,” Hakyeon adds, barely able to hold back a wide grin as Hongbin flops face-first into the couch.

“Don’t tell me you’re having a crisis over this too,” Sanghyuk says, poking Hongbin in the butt with his foot.

“I’m not,” Hongbin protests. “The realization just came really quickly, that’s all.”

“Go call Wonshik,” Hakeyon suggests.

“It’s like, four in the morning where he is.”

“He’ll wake up for you,” Hakyeon laughs, and Hongbin swipes at him. “Well, what do you want to do about this newfound knowledge of yours, Hongbinnie?”

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the hole on the ceiling Sanghyuk made when he tried to punch a fly and missed. “I’m not sure,” he says. “I just wanted to share this thought with you guys. I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“Not the first time you’ve done that,” Sanghyuk chortles, and dodges the pillow Hongbin lobs at him.

“Well, if you have a wedding, we’ll be expecting an invitation,” Hakyeon says matter-of-factly. That leads up to Hongbin’s second realization, which he dwells on a lot more seriously once Wonshik returns two weeks later, incredibly jet lagged and exhausted from his tour, but eager to see Hongbin again.

“I think I’m getting old,” Wonshik jokes as he lets Hongbin give him a massage in bed that night, moaning when Hongbin works apart a particularly tense knot. “All the new songs in this album have such a fast tempo, I literally have no breaks in between any of them.”

“But you said this one was your favourite,” Hongbin teases, bending over to brush a kiss against Wonshik’s shoulder blade. He feels his boyfriend shiver underneath him. “It’s the one I like to most too, if that counts for anything.”

“Just because it’s my favourite doesn’t mean I enjoy singing it,” Wonshik chuckles. “I’m glad you like it though, I wrote a hell of a lot of those songs with you in mind.”

“I’m flattered,” Hongbin grins, pressing his fingers into the stiff muscles in Wonshik’s neck. “Which album of mine would you say is your favourite?”

Wonshik pauses to think about it then, chewing his lower lip absentmindedly in thought.

“Probably your first entirely self-composed one,” he finally says after a moment’s deliberation. “I remember pre-ordering it when it came out and then listening to it for days on end when it finally came in the mail.”

“Is that the one you still keep in its plastic covering?” Hongbin asks, snickering, and Wonshik pouts at him.

“I treasure it, okay?” he grumbles in between a wide yawn, and Hongbin immediately smoothes Wonshik’s bangs away from his face.

“I know, I know,” he says, sliding off Wonshik’s lower back. “I think you should sleep first though. You’re exhausted.”

“Mm,” Wonshik hums, rubbing his eyes as he crawls up to his pillow. “Your massage turned me into a limp noodle. I wanted to chat with you more.”

“Do it tomorrow morning,” Hongbin tells him, and even as he drags the blankets up to Wonshik’s chin, his boyfriend’s eyes are already drifting closed, his answer lost in a fading mumble. Chuckling, Hongbin leans over to give him a quick peck on the lips before turning the lamp off, leaving Wonshik to rest peacefully in the dark room.

He’s ready for bed too, but before he sleeps, Hongbin slips into Wonshik’s study and flicks on the desk lamp. He walks up to the bookshelf and scans the rows for the album Wonshik mentioned. When he finds it, Hongbin plucks it off the shelf, pulls out the photobook, and sets it carefully down on Wonshik’s cluttered desk. He takes care not to bend the spine too far as he uncaps a marker and looks down at the glossy spread of himself modeling with one of his guitars. This was back when he had that weird, chocolatey-blond hair colour that, for some reason, none of the stylists ever manage to re-create again after it grew out.

He thinks of the messages he writes for his fans. It always starts with their name, and branches out to various re-wordings of thanks and appreciation.

He thinks of Wonshik and his love for Hongbin playing his guitar, how he kisses the stress away from Hongbin’s furrowed brows when something goes wrong, and the small gestures he does when he thinks Hongbin doesn’t notice, like re-organizing his notes for him, staying up to make sure Hongbin ate dinner, or simply sitting down and offering Hongbin advice and companionship when he needed it.

Wonshik isn’t just a fan. 

With that in mind, Hongbin titles his message to the most important person in my life, and lets it go on from there.

+

Wonshik sleeps like the dead on a regular basis anyway, so combined with fatigue and time zone differences, he doesn’t get up until an hour after Hongbin returns from work with a whole container of rice balls Hakyeon made for him tucked under his arm. He sits inside Wonshik’s office and fiddles around with his guitar until inspiration runs out and he drops into Wonshik’s bedroom to see if his boyfriend is up yet.

And Wonshik is indeed up, but he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless and tousle-haired, blankets pooled around his waist as he reads something. Hongbin walks in, knowing Wonshik heard him open the bedroom door, and sits down on the mattress next to him.

Wonshik’s got the photobook of his favourite album opened onto the page Hongbin write his message on, which he bookmarked yesterday night with one of those cute animal sticky notes and left it on the nightstand next to Wonshik, where he knew his boyfriend would see it when he wakes up. The message is quite lengthly, so Hongbin’s taken up the lower half of both pages, his writing a little cramped from the thick pen. Wonshik’s fingers are tracing over the words as he reads, and when he finally looks up, his eyes are shining and wet.

“When did you write this?” he asks Hongbin, his voice thick with emotion, and Hongbin has to take a moment to compose himself as well. He reaches out and brushes Wonshik’s messy hair back.

“Yesterday night, after you fell asleep,” he says. “Do you like my message?”

“Do I like it?” Wonshik repeats, a little incredulously, and he gives an almighty sniff as the tears drop down his face. “Fuck, Hongbin, I don’t think— I don’t think I’ve ever read anything that’s made me spontaneously burst into tears.”

“I hope they’re happy tears,” Hongbin laughs. “I poured a good portion of my soul and feelings into that for you.”

“I can tell,” Wonshik sniffles, wiping at his face as he looks down at the I’m grateful that you gave me another chance, the I truly admire you as an artist and a musician, and the I’ll always treasure you immortalized in ink. “Thank you. I’m really— I’m so moved. What brought this up?”

Hongbin pulls his legs up and sits cross-legged, facing Wonshik as he speaks. “Well, you were away for a while, and you know what they say about the heart growing fonder while someone’s away, right?” Wonshik gives a watery chuckle and nods. One of his hands finds Hongbin’s, and he holds it tightly in his own. “And then I remembered something you said a long time ago, about you not admitting you’ve got a crush until you got me to autograph one of the CD cases or photobooks you own.”

“Holy crap,” Wonshik says, eyes widening. “I’ve forgotten about that.”

“Good thing I didn’t then, right?” Hongbin smirks, tapping the message inside the book. “So now that I’ve autographed it, I think you have to hold up your end of the promise.”

“You’re not playing fair,” Wonshik says, shaking his head fondly. “I wasn’t even prepared for this.”

“A promise is a promise, Kim Wonshik.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wonshik says, jutting his lower lip out. “But I can’t do it.”

Hongbin raises an eyebrow. “And why not?” he asks.

For a man that had been on the verge of bawling just from reading his message a moment ago, Wonshik’s gaze held Hongbin’s quite calmly as he says, “I can’t admit to having a crush because I don’t have one anymore.” Their interlocked fingers separate when Wonshik reaches up to cup Hongbin’s face tenderly, a beautiful smile on his face as he whispers, “I’ve fallen in love instead.”

Hongbin’s heart is beating hard in his chest, and he isn’t surprised to find his vision blurring ever so slightly as a wave of emotions crashes over him. He was doomed by the wide-eyed boy with big dreams, big smiles and an even bigger heart right from the start, and he finds that he doesn’t regret it at all, not one bit.

Wonshik leans in and kisses him, and the three little words murmured softly against his lips before Hongbin kisses back are the ones Hongbin knows he’ll treasure for the rest of his life.