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Hongjoong has been feeling like this again, and for a while now.

Sexually frustrated.

But that's what you get from the constant excitement of the stage and never hooking up. Not since debuting… Well, except that one time that didn't even end up with an orgasm, so it doesn't count, not really.

So he deals with it as most people do and tries to jerk off when he finds the time. The thing is, personal time is sparse. And even if he does find two nights and an afternoon to indulge himself–somehow, it’s not enough.

For how successful they've become and how happy it makes him feel, the frustration only grows and grows. There's this nagging feeling for him to do something. Something more. Preferably, with somebody else.

Hongjoong isn't sure if it's desire or, maybe, loneliness.

Squashing the feeling, he continues on, until he does a really fucking stupid thing.

It’s after practice, already dark outside and there’s more chill in the air than April weather ought to warrant. Jongho has made plans with Daehwi or Sanha, or both. Hongjoong has been pretty spaced out after the extensive choreo drills that leaves him light-headed and thirsty as hell. San tries to drag Wooyoung to the gym, which sounds ridiculous after what they've just been put through. Wooyoung hides behind Hongjoong and whines as if San isn't shrugging at his second “no”.

Seonghwa pats San on the shoulder, urging them to go. They don’t even change into fresh clothes–there’s no use when they're about to sweat even more. For a second, it gives Hongjoong ideas he pushes down, irritated at himself. He huffs a breath and, almost gently, dislodges Wooyoung from around his neck.

“Fancy a drink?” Hongjoong asks when they get into the parking lot.

Wooyoung jumps onto the back seat, sprawling his limbs in all directions.

“Hyung’s treat?” he asks, because he knows Hongjoong might be their captain, but he’s also a very weak hyung.

“Of course,” he agrees easily, too exhausted to put up a fake fight.

He gets them soju on their way back, with a black beanie pulled all down to his brows and a mask on. Wooyoung cheers but quickly gets back to what they were talking about before, a little bit of company gossip, parents and hairstyles for the impending comeback.

At the apartment, they shower first, then sit on the living room floor in front of the sofa so they don't stain it while eating leftovers they microwave because they’re too tired to do it properly on the stove.

It only gets one bottle shared between the two of them for Hongjoong's tongue to loosen.

“I miss sex,” he says after swallowing a shot in one go.

There’s a beat of silence that makes him flush with embarrassment, and then an even worse wave of it when Wooyoung laughs.

“As if you ever fuck, hyung.”

Busted. He really, truly doesn't. But it doesn't mean he doesn't want to.

“Do you, Wooyoung-ah?”

Humming, Wooyoung turns to lay on the floor fully. His bangs are messy and clumped together, dried down haphazardly with the towel that he’s now using to wipe the condensation that dripped down onto the floor from the soju bottles. He’s changed into a sleeveless tee, his biceps lean but rounding when he moves his arms the right way.

His smile turns coy when he looks up at Hongjoong.

“Of course,” he sing-songs, “I can get it anytime I want!”

Hongjoong's brows lift up, his interest piqued.

“Can you, now?”

“Can't you, hyung?” Wooyoung throws the question back at him. “Ateez captain, genius producer Kim Hongjoong can’t get laid?”

“As if I can risk it,” Hongjoong grumbles, taking another shot he pours for himself.

“There's little to no risk if you have the exact same thing on the line.”

It clicks in Hongjoong's mind right away and before he can think one rational thought, he leans over Wooyoung, the kiss landing askew on the corner of his lips.

“Hyung!” Wooyoung whines, giggling, but not in the way Hongjoong would expect him to. It’s not flirty, doesn’t sound like he’s interested in pushing the thing further. It’s in the “you’re being weird” way or “are you drunk?” one. But neither of them is drunk, not even tipsy yet; they’ve barely started the second bottle.

Hongjoong drops next to Wooyoung ungracefully, the previous embarrassment nothing in comparison to the one he’s feeling now.

“Yeah, um,” Hongjoong groans, “sorry about that.”

“Are you this desparte, hyung?”

Wooyoung doesn’t turn to him but he also doesn’t move away, clearly not bothered by the proximity with their shoulders touching. Hongjoong fights down the urge to move away.

“You’re h-hot, Wooyoung-ah,” he stutters, because he doesn’t know what else to say and because that’s just the truth.

Wooyoung hums noncommittally. It makes Hongjoong’s mood sour even more, knowing how the younger sometimes struggles with his self-esteem. He leaves it be, this time around. There’s no use to pursue the topic and make Wooyoung dwell on it more.

“Sorry,” Hongjoong repeats himself, tapping Wooyoung’s hand before he sits up, filling both of their glasses with more soju. “As a leader, I shouldn’t have–yeah.”

“That’s right!” Wooyoung brightens, a bit of the alcohol spilling when he pushes himself off the floor, catching the glass with his foot. “Besides, what’s really hot is monogamy.”

Hongjoong chokes on the next sip, eyes wide as he looks up at giggling Wooyoung.

“What?”

“Wouldn't you want to know,” he laughs some more and Hongjoong stays mum.

It can mean only one thing, and once again Hongjoong is reminded of how stupid of an idea it was to impose on Wooyoung. But it's also peculiar that Wooyoung would maybe be in a relationship and yet wouldn't say anything about it up until now. Not necessarily with who he’s in a relationship with, but not to say anything at all is a surprise. It might be a brand new thing, though. Hongjoong ponders on it, but he’s not one to pry so he doesn’t ask.

There's something he has to say, though.

“Wooyoung-ah,” he calls, turning his half-empty drink in his hand, fingers sticking to the moist glass. “I don't need to tell you to be careful, right? You know what’s on the line.”

“I know, hyung,” Wooyoung sighs. He picks at the hem of his tee, twisting it between his fingertips. “We both do, you know?”

Hongjoong smiles up at him, his worry appeased. Not completely but well enough.

“Good,” he nods, emptying the last sip from his glass; he points at Wooyoung’s drink, still full of liquor, prompting him to take the shot. “That’s good.”

Wooyoung’s timid curl of lips slowly turns up more. He pours Hongjoong another drink with what’s left from the green bottle and it almost spills over the brim. He doesn't pay attention to that, though, because he’s a menace and it’s Hongjoong’s drink. He lifts his own in a cheering gesture.

“I don't kiss and tell, Hongjoongie-hyung,” he says sweetly. “Both mine and yours secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone you tried to–”

The lock on the front door chimes, and Jongho stumbles through the threshold, cursing under his nose.

“Jongho-ya!”

Hongjoong, stunned, looks at Wooyoung scrambling to his feet only to ask the maknae how drunk he was while jostling him. He doesn't believe it when Jongho protests that he's not drunk, no, not after two beers.

Hongjoong wonders if the headache that starts to brim at the back of his head is alcohol or Wooyoung induced. Nevertheless, he picks himself up and brings out another bottle. He shakes it at his bandmates and then laughs at Wooyoung who starts whining when Jongho disposes of him the second he sees what's in Hongjoong's hand.

Better make the headache worth it.

After that night, the awkwardness never comes. Not on Wooyoung's part, at least, as he behaves just as always. When it comes to Hongjoong, it's short-lived and pushed to the deepest end of his consciousness and mostly forgotten. Mostly, because the need for sexual gratification comes and goes in waves, unresolved, to the point of getting hard on stage.

There are hands on his shoulders after they get another win on a music show, and somehow Hongjoong knows it's Seonghwa even before he opens his mouth to speak.

“Hongjoong-ah,” he murmurs, pushing his thumbs into the base of Hongjoong's neck. “Are you okay?”

The question is warranted. Just earlier, before the recording, Hongjoong snapped at Yeosang, and even though he apologized right after, he remained tense, full of unresolved energy.

If anybody were to approach Hongjoong and calm the storm that keeps brimming inside of him, it would be Seonghwa. Could have been Yunho, too, but chances of them butting heads were higher.

Funny, but this time sending the younger one would benefit all of them. Especially Seonghwa.

As Hongjoong turns, Seonghwa doesn't take a step back. His hands are still on Hongjoong, and his expression flickers from concerned to an encouraging tilt of gloss-covered lips. Those lips open but Hongjoong doesn't think about how Seonghwa might prod more, maybe even plead with him.

The only thing that's on his mind at that moment is putting his fingers on his bottom lip and pushing them inside, against the tongue that Hongjoong gets a glimpse of as Seonghwa considers his next words.

He catches himself in time before he does something stupid yet again and puts his thoughts into action. He stumbles back and away.

In the end it's also a bad move, just less severe, as Hongjoong watches Seonghwa’s face fall.

Lately, Hongjoong has been getting so much better with physical closeness. He keeps trying harder to become more comfortable, with both giving and receiving. There's lingering hesitation whenever his members initiate it first, and he still doesn't like kissing, but outwardly rejecting gentlessnes, like right now–he’s been past it. Especially with Seonghwa, with whom this kind of interaction has always had two sides to it. Hongjoong has been putting in extra work to make it less awkward with him.

It feels like all that hard work might go to waste, with one single unkind gesture.

Hongjoog’s jaw tightens and he doesn't even have it in himself to smile. It wouldn't be pretty anyway.

“Sorry, Seonghwa-ya,” he says, taking that one step back in. “I’ve been in my head way too much lately. There's so much going on…”

He trails off, because that's a weak excuse, even in his own ears.

Ever so helpful, Seonghwa doesn't call on his bullshit and nods, the uncertain little smile back on his face. His hands, though, remain by his sides.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his stance relaxing. “But everything is going great, so let's look at the bright side of things, hm?”

Hongjoong hears maybe half of it, still a bit dazed. He licks his lips, the tip of his tongue catching on the fake lip ring. His eyes travel back to Seonghwa’s face, jumping from his pink pink mouth to his dark, glittering eyes. That's how he catches Seonghwa–he’s doing the exact same thing, gaze shifting back up to meet Hongjoong’s stare.

It should be awkward, mortifying even, but somehow Seonghwa laughs, shaking his head a little. His perfectly styled hair doesn't move, not even the purposeful stray of hair on his forehead.

“I think we should unwind a little bit,” Seonghwa says. “I know we have another recording tomorrow, but–for a bit, yeah?”

Hongjoong doesn't ask what unwinding Seonghwa has in mind but the quicker they end this conversation, the faster Hongjoong will be able to excuse himself and take a chance on jerking himself off in a Music Bank toilet.

The conversation does come to an end but by the third party–their manager ushers them to record some more content and then they're going back to the dorms.

There goes easing the tension Hongjoong’s had in mind. He can’t even take some time alone, because Seonghwa pulls him to his room in the other apartment right away.

It’s been a couple of days since the move, but Seonghwa’s room is slowly coming together. As expected from him.

Hongjoong doesn't want to think of the mess his own room has been so far. It’s going to be hard to find either time or energy in the near future, and now there's no Seonghwa to take care of the room. Of course, he's glad to have his own space, but here, in this instance, it stings.

“Hongjoongie,” Seonghwa calls, “let's build some lego.”

“Yah,” Hongjoong says, flabbergasted. “I thought you wanted me to unwind, not to get mad.”

Laughing, Seonghwa waves his hands.

“You don't have to do anything,” he promises. “You can just watch. Atiny says it can be really relaxing to just watch.”

Hongjoong doesn't really feel like watching either, but protesting more will make Seonghwa sad, this much Hongjoong knows, so with a sigh, he perches himself on the edge of Seonghwa's bed and waits.

They really are incompatible sometimes.

During the whole ordeal, Seonghwa keeps talking, as if he was doing a live. He says what he’s doing, or compares it to his other sets, or strays to babble about something unrelated to lego at all. Hongjoong's answers are sparse, and soon his eyelids grow heavy.

For some time, he’s been laying on the bed instead of sitting up, not paying attention to what Seonghwa is doing but just listening to the softness of his voice, recognizing an occasional pout in his tone when he can't find a matching piece or he recalls something specific that made him upset recently.

When Hongjoong wakes up, because of course he drifts off into deep slumber, exhausted after who knows how many days full of schedules, it's dark in the room. There's a blanket laid over his middle and legs, and he’s not alone on the bed. He shifts, and beside him, Seonghwa groans.

“Go back to sleep, Hongjoongie,” he mumbles, moving closer. “I put an alarm on.”

Seonghwa's long fingers curl around Hongjoong's but before he can think of returning the gentle squeeze, Seonghwa turns around and settles with a sigh.

It’s hard to fall back asleep then but curiously he does. It's a bone deep sleep then, and a dreamless one.

When Hongjoong stirs awake again, it's not because of the alarm on Seonghwa's phone. 

It's dark in the room but he’s not sure if it's because it’s still the middle of the night or the blackout curtains work this well. It's too warm in the room so he kicks the blanket off and that's when it dawns on him–he’s hard in his pants, his thighs tingling with arousal and hands itching to touch himself. Then comes the horror of his predicament, with Seonghwa still asleep right beside him.

Hongjoong stills himself, fear rising up from within until it catches up in his throat. Way too quickly, he sits up, drawing his knees up. The abrupt movement is what alarms Seonghwa who turns his head to squint at him. 

“Hongjoong-ah?” he mumbles, voice deep and scratchy.

Hongjoong swallows with difficulty.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispers, too anxious to speak louder. “I’m going to mine.”

“Hm?” Seonghwa frowns, picking up his phone from the ground. “It’s 3am,” he whines, letting it slip back from his fingers and clatter on the carpet. “Let’s just–”

“I’m going to take a shower,” he insists, shuffling down the bed. He runs his hand down his face, and he lets the lie roll off his tongue, “I couldn't fall back asleep for a while now, anyway.”

If Seonghwa wasn't barely awake he'd argue with him. Hongjoong is sure about it, because it wouldn't be the first time. There's a pause in which Hongjoong fears that he might, but the protest doesn't come. 

“If you're sure,” Seonghwa sighs.

Despite the urge to flee, Hongjoong leans over for a brief moment to pet Seonghwa's hair awkwardly. Just to soothe him and to make him believe Hongjoong's words more.

“Sleep,” he whispers once again, smiling at the tiniest little sound Seonghwa makes as he burrows himself in the sheets.

The walk back to his room in the other apartment is with fear kicking at Hongjoong's feet, the slowness in which he tries to be quiet only adding to the dread of being found out. He's not even hard anymore and yet it feels that if anybody looked at him right now, they would know.

And then, there's a similar yet different kind of fear when he jerks himself off in the shower, with thoughts going to dangerous places he’s always pushed back–at the back of his traitorous mind.

Usually, it's easy to imagine pretty much whatever. Some foreign celebrities. The pretty noona that sometimes does their makeup as a fill-in. One of the sunbaenims, especially those with pretty lips.

But sometimes they all morph into well-known features of somebody way closer to him, and after, when he’s cleaning himself more thoroughly than on a daily basis, he feels empty. Not particularly disgusted at himself, or regretful in a shameful kind of way, no. If there's any regret, it’s stored in the what-ifs and doubt in how he perceives others and his own relationships with them. With this one particular person, especially.

There's a reason, he fears, of why he likes pretty lips. There's a reason he imagines the shape of them stretched around his cock. The slope of groomed brows, lifting up to look at him from the floor. The unshed tears sparkling in the pair of eyes blown wide.

Hongjoong presses his forehead to the wet tile in the shower, taking calming breaths. It’s surely the horniness speaking. It’s because he’s craved sex for months now and it might be high time to do something about it. It's time to stop this madness.

Later that week, Hongjoong calls his older brother.

“Hyung,” he whines, just as any dongsaeng would. “Help me.”

Bumjoong laughs, knowing the tone very well.

“Coming to the rescue right away, Hongjoong-ah,” he says, over-seriously. “But with what?”

“During Chuseok, you said–” Hongjoong pauses, suddenly unsure about the whole thing. “You said one of you friends–”

“Ah!” Bumjoong almost yells. “Are you ready for Minjungie to rock your world?”

Fuck, his brother is so embarrasing.

“Hyung,” he whines again. “It’s not… You know I can't–uh.”

“Oh, you want a booty call type of a date?”

It’s hot outside. Hongjoong moves the curtains to take a glimpse of the outside. The air simmers with heat bouncing off the tall buildings, rising from the stove-hot asphalt down on the ground. Their comeback is in less than two weeks. It's now or never.

“Kind of,” he mumbles into the phone.

Bumjoong laughs.

“Then I don't know if I can offer you Minjung, she's too good for you.”

Hongjoong can't even argue. His intent is too obvious and he doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

“But I know somebody who can be of help.”

“Trustworthy?”

His brother hums in agreement.

“They have some to lose, so yeah. Yeah, I promise,” he says surely. “Give me a date and I can arrange it.”

“I’ll check my schedule.”

There's brief silence after which Bumjoong snorts.

“You really must be desperate, little brother. Not even going to ask if they're hot?”

Hongjoong pinches between his eyes.

“Hyung,” he says, suddenly tired. “Please.”

“Okay, okay,” Bumjoong sighs in surrender. “Text me when you know. Love you.”

The end of a call signal reverberates in Hongjoong's ear before he can reply.

So it's done.

It doesn't feel real until it’s a few hours before the set date, their practice soon coming to an end.

Hongjoong feels too big for his own skin. He misses a step when they repeat the dance routine for the nth time so he calls it a day. Most of the group agrees they won't go any further, not after entering the autopilot mode after too many hours in the dance studio.

He checks his phone, for the fourth or fifth time since morning, to make sure he remembers the details right. He wipes the sweat from above his upper lip, and he doesn't register somebody approaching from behind until it's too late.

There's a scratch against his back, over his sweat-damp shoulder blade where his tank top ends. Hongjoong almost drops his phone in haste to hide the screen.

Wooyoung drapes himself over him, sweat and smell be damned.

“Will you buy us meat, hyung?” he asks, straightforward, without using any aegyo. “Please?”

He glances at Wooyoung and then at the rest of them. Seonghwa is talking with San, but Mingi and Yeosang have heard the question, and are looking expectantly at him. They're not backing Wooyoung up with words, but their expressions are clear as day.

Three hours. That's how much time he has before his date. He can make it work. And still make an excuse of going back to his studio to make up for the practice cut short. 

Then, Yunho catches up with what's going on after a quick bathroom break and Hongjoong knows it's a very much lost battle. He can't say no to Yunho’s earnest, puppy eyes.

“Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes at all the delighted faces.  “Not sogogi, though.”

Wooyoung scrunches his nose.

“It was worth a try,” he says easily, “let's go, then!”

They spill from the building in a rush, too hungry after dancing for hours, and go to the nearest samgyeopsal restaurant they visit often enough for the owner to recognize them. They’re being served a mountain of meat and even more side dishes. It's all familiar, comfortable. Or it would be if Hongjoong wasn't checking the time every five minutes. He doesn't even know he's been jumping his knee until Seonghwa nudges his leg under the table. He raises his eyebrows at Hongjoong, questioning. It makes Hongjoong even more nervous.

“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa says in a low murmur. “What is it?”

His eyes are round and imploring. Hongjoong, not for the first time, finds it hard to maintain eye contact with him. He looks down, at his nose, but he gets distracted by the grease on Seonghwa's lips, glistening in the too-white lights scattered on the ceiling of the restaurant.

Hongjoong grows hot, but not because of the big grill on the table.

“Just–still have stuff to do at the studio,” he remembers his excuse, laughing awkwardly as he averts his best friend’s gaze. “I’ll have to go soon.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa breathes, “I bet you do… I’ll walk you, then.”

“No!” Hongjoong protests, way too loudly. He feels Yunho’s eyes on him, then Jongho turns to them, alarmed, so he laughs again, even more awkward. “Stay with the kids and enjoy the food. I’ll order more meat before I go.”

Yunho’s gaze on Hongjoong feels too intense, even though Hongjoong clearly sees it isn’t.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, leaning over.

There’s something about Yunho that makes Hongjoong panic, more than Seonghwa’s well-measured insistence. Sometimes, it's like Yunho's a mind-reader.

Hongjoong would have to dig his own grave, as he stands, if Yunho actually could read his mind right now.

“Studio,” Hongjoong replies curtly.

Maybe it’s because Yunho is sitting rather far away from him, or maybe he’s not paying as much attention to Hongjoong’s body language and anxious expression, but he lets it go.

Hongjoong tries releasing the breath he’s been holding in very quietly.

“Don’t stay for too long,” Seonghwa repeats the same old phrase, nudging his leg under the table once more as if to say: I mean that.

Hongjoong is sure that Seonghwa really does mean it. He always does, and for the first time that day the lie he keeps repeating to cover his hookup date, spills sourly at the bottom of his stomach. It gets even worse when he notices how Seonghwa’s ankle stays pressed to his.

Hongjoong can’t stay any longer. He has to go before his resolve crumbles. Or worse, he just blurts everything out, spills his guts on the table somewhere between ssamjang and kkakdugi.

“Eat lots,” Hongjoong squeezes past the tightness in his throat and almost jumps to the cash register to pay for their whole table.

There’s still plenty of time and Hongjoong stops by the company to shower quickly and wash away the taste of greasy meat and beer from his mouth.

When he looks at his own reflection in the mirror, he groans. It’s not that he doesn't look good, he does, it's just that he can see the insanity in his eyes. More so, he feels insane. But there's not much he can do now. He does feel horny, still, and the opportunity to have sex is too good to pass on.

He puts a mask on and takes a taxi to the apartment complex on the other side of Han River.

Hyojung’s a lovely girl. On the shorter side, with her hair dyed a little lighter, a pointy nose and a smile that makes the corner of her mouth turn upright. She has the kind of beauty that you might overlook at the first glimpse but the more she smiles and talks animatedly, the more lovely she appears.

Yet, in the end Hongjoong can't do it. There's something about her lips, the upper one thinner and soft-lined, that is not the type he imagines every time he dreams of somebody sucking him off. He doesn't even expect that of her, but there's this wall in his mind, like somebody was holding onto his wrist, asking: are you sure?

So they talk, make out for a while, but he doesn’t make his hands wander, and when hers do–he stops her.

Hyojung cocks her head at him, calculating.

“You're trying to forget somebody, is that it?”

It makes Hongjoong laugh.

“What?”

But she doesn't give up, tilting her head to the other side.

Hongjoong's laugh dies abruptly.

“No, what are you–no,” he insists, because that is not what this is about.

It’s not like he was thinking about anybody else when he kissed her. It wasn't like when he’s alone and his fantasies more often than not turn dangerous. When he does imagine round eyes and prominent lips between his legs.

Well, now he does, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’m not in love with anyone at the moment,” he sighs, making himself comfortable on the big sofa that's the main point in Hyojung’s living room.

“Hm,” Hyojung also goes back to her previous laid-back pose against the colorful pillows. “But aren't you?”

Again, he laughs. This is becoming more like an interrogation than a hook-up. Or a therapy session.

There's an insistent honking outside that distracts him from his own thoughts.

“I’m not, but I feel like I won't be able to convince you,” he shrugs. “Well, I still have work to do–sorry, Hyojung-ssi.”

“Ah, don't be sorry,” she says easily. “I’d rather not have good dicking than cause an existential crisis with my–sorry, don't mind me.”

It feels like the first real laugh this time around when he doubles over, giggling.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, standing up. “It was nice meeting you, Hyojung-ssi.”

She only smiles and gives him a bright goodbye at the door.

Still, it's hard not to feel embarrassed about the whole ordeal. He’s able to forget about it as he immerses himself in work, but it comes back to him when he goes back to the apartment. Nobody's in the living room, and he moves as quietly as possible to his room. He doesn't even feel like jerking off, he's too frustrated with himself.

He’s drifting to sleep when there's a knock on his door.

“Hm?” he inquires, blinking his eyes open. “Yeah?”

His room is dark but he recognizes the silhouette at the door, illuminated by the light in the hall.

“Hongjoong-ah? Did I wake you up?”

“Not really,” Hongjoong yawns and stretches his hand to turn the bedside lamp on. “What is it, Seonghwa-ya?”

Seonghwa takes a step into the room, hesitant.

“Can't sleep,” he laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, if you're tired I’ll just–”

“Want to crash here?”

Saying Hongjoong is surprised with himself would be an understatement. It’s probably his selfish side speaking, or the fiasco of the evening, or all of the above. He almost takes it back, feeling stupid, but Seonghwa closes the door and sits on the bed.

In the end, it's not like they've never shared a bed. He stayed at Seonghwa’s just the other week.

Now, everything that Seonghwa does to settle beside Hongjoong is slow. Tentative, even, like Hongjoong might spook with any sudden movement. 

It would be his own fault, playing hot and cold for years now.

So, Hongjoong wriggles a little, in a getting-comfortable kind of way, and hums when Seonghwa relaxes against him.

Hongjoong falls back asleep to Seonghwa's soft breathing in a blink.

In the morning, he opens his eyes unprompted. For a second, he thinks he somehow ended up sleeping with Hyojung, and that's where he is, because he's not alone in bed, but the next moment he remembers.

It's Seonghwa that's next to him, and him moving around is what made Hongjoong stir awake.

“Ah, sorry,” Seonghwa murmurs, voice even rougher than last night, “I have to pee.”

Somehow, during the night, they switched and it was Seonghwa on the side by the wall, so now he has to crawl over Hongjoong. It takes a bit of maneuvering, which includes Seonghwa almost stradling Hongjoong. It makes his mind go places it shouldn't, and his hands itch to reach out. Then he just has to, because Seonghwa almost topples over, foot tangled in the sheets. He laughs, sliding to the floor in a heap.

“I’m fine,” he says laughing, “sorry, Hongjoongie, go back to sleep.”

As if Hongjoong would be able to, winded by almost nothing.

A bitterness so profound he chokes on it makes him spiral a little bit. Why did he allow his fantasies go this far? About one of his group members? About his best friend? His eyes prickle because of shame. He’s the leader of their team first, and being horny should be the very last thing on his neverending list of priorities.

He turns onto his stomach so he can hide his face in the pillow. Groaning into it, once but loud, is all that he allows himself to do.

Then, the alarm on Seonghwa’s phone goes off and he ignores the message that pops up when he picks it up to turn the obnoxious melody off. He ignores the question with a date and tries not to regret at least five decisions he’s made in the last couple of days.

“Looks like my bladder has a better alarm system then my phone,” Seonghwa snickers when he gets back. “I’m going to wake the kids up. I think Wooyoung is already awake. Do you need–”

“I’m going to wake Jongho up,” Hongjoong says quickly. “If Jongho ends up showering last again, there might be blood,” he laughs awkwardly. “Um, see you at practice?”

And with that, he bolts to the youngest room, heart in his throat, leaving Seonghwa to walk himself out.

Fortunately, they don't fight about the shower order. Hongjoong goes last, trying to sound normal when they ask about Seonghwa spending the night; they must have heard him earlier this morning. Then, when they’re in the practice room, all together, it gets easier. Hongjoong switches to the work mode and psychs himself into staying in this mindset indefinitely.

For quite a long time, it works. If Hongjoong treats the members when they're off schedule the same way he treats them in front of cameras, nobody comments on it. He's calmer and nicer, so of course they prefer it. 

This time around, the comeback is so much fun. Even if the piling schedules borders on overwork, even for them, they seem happy. The world tour resumes straight away, soon after deciding on the unit songs.

It isn’t hard to work on music. Hongjoong does most of it alone anyway, so coming up with something for their unit song goes fine. He enjoys creating something a little bit different.

Then comes the time to work on it with Seonghwa. Seonghwa, his best friend that Hongjoong fantasizes about sometimes and who’s been kind of, maybe, dating somebody now. Or was, because he’s been that tiny bit timid lately, and Hongjoong isn’t sure if it’s because he’s missing that person as the band is away from Seoul, or because it’s called off. Hongjoong’s too afraid of the answer to ask, and Seonghwa doesn’t say anything on the matter.

As predicted, the two of them work together just fine. Seonghwa is very driven for their unit song, even if he lacks confidence in lyrics making. He makes up for it with effort that seems to be never-ending. Sometimes, Hongjoong wonders if he’s ever not going to be in awe of Seonghwa. Of how hard he works and how much thought he puts in every little aspect of their team. That’s why he can do nothing less but put extra effort in being gentle and encouraging when they finally sit to record, in the hotel room no less, recording the whole thing for the future vlog.

At some point, Hongjoong forgets the camera is even on, and Seonghwa must have to, because he relaxes and they joke around more than do actual work. They record over the top lines that Hongjoong backtracks on to actually get something out of it.

“This is exactly how you should accentuate this verse,” he says, replaying it for Seonghwa to hear on the headphones.

He listens to it two more times, focused, and then his round eyes pull up on Hongjoong.

“Really? Like that?”

Something tugs at Hongjoong's stomach and he has to fight for his smile not to falter.

“Yeah,” he says, “just… a little more serious.”

Seonghwa laughs, but gives him a nod and they record the verse two more times, dissecting it for a couple more minutes, before Hongjoong looks at the time.

“Shit,” he curses, pushing his hair away from his forehead. “We should sleep.” There's not much time left before the morning schedule, no more than six hours. “I'll work on it on the plane.”

Seonghwa groans.

“Ah, fuck, there’s still some parts–shit, is the camera still going?”

“Yah,” Hongjoong snickers, “stop cursing, then!”

Seonghwa glares.

“Like they won’t cut it all out,” he grumbles. “Fuck you.”

It only makes Hongjoong laugh even more.

“Yah!” he scolds, louder. “You dickhead!”

The chair scrapes against the floor with an infuriating sound as Seonghwa lunges for Hongjoong.

Hongjoong’s fast to react, moving onto the bed before they do something risky like push each other onto the floor and get injured.

But Seonghwa doesn't relent. He starts poking at Hongjoong, trying to tickle him here and there. Light swatting doesn't seem to discourage him, so Hongjoong doesn't think much before he catches Seonghwa's wrists and holds them between them.

“Brat,” Hongjoong huffs. “Let's just sleep.”

All of the fight leaves Seonghwa's body at once, and Hongjoong's stomach twists again at the smile Seonghwa gives him.

“Here?” Seonghwa asks, his hands still in Hongjoong's, even when the grip loosens.

He should send him to his room. He really should, because he’s one touch away from getting a boner.

In the end, he’s nothing but a weak man.

“Yeah, let's sleep,” he agrees, finally pulling away. “I’ll turn everything off, you just lay in.”

A low hum, followed by soft rustling, makes for the background sound as Hongjoong rushes through the motions. When he kicks his sweatpants off and slips under the covers, Seonghwa lets out a low rumble again.

“G’night, Hongjoongie,” he mumbles, curling into himself.

It’s Hongjoong's heart that squeezes faintly this time.

“Y-yeah,” he mumbles, turning away and trying to think about anything but the man falling asleep a few centimeters away.

Go back to the work mindset. That's what Hongjoong tells his own reflection in the mirror the next day. There’s nothing else to do, anyway. It’s the concert day, so it's practice, soundcheck, makeup–all of this in the kind of weather that’s almost torturous, with rain and humidity so thick it feels like ten degrees more than it actually is.

It's like any other concert. They go hard, and by the end of the day they’re beyond exhausted. Happy, too. It’s the next day that's actually a challenge. After the fansign, for the photoshoot they're doing, Hongjoong is not only challenged by wearing something more revealing than usual, but he's also confronted with what Seonghwa gets to wear. He’s not sure which outfit is worse: the brocade dress or the sheer hooded blouse. With his hair growing out, Seonghwa looks extremely good. 

Beautiful.

“Hongjoong-ah? Are you coming?”

They're back in their regular clothes, with makeup still on. It takes a second for Hongjoong to remember they're supposed to go to the dinner with some of the staff, as a thank you.

Hongjoong looks at his scattered belongings and starts packing haphazardly.

“Yes, yes,” he says in a rush. “Just let me–”

He hears a laugh, and then Seonghwa is kneeling and moving a chair away.

“Your airpods, pabo-ya,” he snickers, handing him the little box. “Let's go.”

What would Hongjoong do without him? He squeezes Seonghwa’s arm in gratitude. They join the others and go for the same van with San and Yeosang.

Seonghwa spends the whole ride on his phone, sighing and biting his lips.

The curiosity is eating at Hongjoong but he doesn't have the right to every last bit of Seonghwa's or any of the members’ privacy.

During dinner, Seonghwa keeps getting notifications to which he first replies to, but when the food arrives, he silences his phone altogether.

Hongjoong licks his lips.

“You don't seem to catch a break, do you, Seonghwa-ya?” he asks, throwing his sentiments away.

Surprisingly, Seonghwa snorts.

“But I do!” he says, ignoring the real question that's being asked. “I want more prawns, please!”

Hongjoong swallows his dissatisfaction and grabs the whole platter with prawns for Seonghwa to pick some for himself.

“Eat a lot,” he says, as kindly as he can manage, and then focuses on his own food.

To his left, he hears Yunho asking in a staged whisper if Hongjoong is jealous again. He’s too observant for his own good. Purposeful too, because he says it to Wooyoung, and Wooyoung is nothing but a meddlesome little gremlin.

“Hongjoong-hyung?” he snickers, not even trying to lower his voice. “When is he not?”

Hongjoong can play off a lot of things, but this time he feels exposed in a way that makes him forget his tongue. He gives Wooyoung a stink eye, ready to reprimand the younger.

But the conversation spreads around the table and it spreads fast.

“Jealous of what?” Mingi asks, squinting his eyes.

“Of whom,” Jongho adds, swirling the drink in his hand slowly.

On the other side of the table, San is clamping his mouth hard, trying not to laugh. His barely visible eyes and dimpled cheeks betray it easily enough though.

“Kids,” Hongjoong warns, half-serious. “don't start writing fairy tales now.”

“But hyung!” Wooyoung gasps. “You’re like a fairy from a tale!”

With his cheeks full, Seonghwa sends a glare around the table. He tries reaching for Wooyoung who's sitting two people away from him. The action puts him almost across Hongjoong’s lap but even then Seonghwa is not able to reach the younger who starts screeching-laughing and almost knocks a vase with curry off the table.

It’s hard to tell if Seonghwa is more pressed about the comments or about how they disturbed his meal and turned his focus off of food.

It takes Hongjoong a second to move his hand away from Seonghwa's waist after helping him regain balance in his seat.

He should have slept with Hyojung back then. Maybe he wouldn't be spiraling out of control yet again now.

For the rest of the dinner he keeps his hands to himself and when he takes a different van back to the hotel, he hopes it comes off as natural as he attempts it to be.

Recording of the rest of the album goes smoothly. The unit song he's doing with Seonghwa? Almost goes great as well. Almost.

Seonghwa has been practicing after they recorded the guide and when he goes into the recording booth, he's fully in his element. It’s hot when he decides which take of the particular verse sounds better. He’s so hot, Hongjoong hovers his finger over the contact list for half the recording session–over Hyojung’s name. He can’t go on like this. He has to fuck it all out of his system.

“Hongjoong-ah?”

Hongjoong flails in his chair, almost dropping the phone. He blinks up at Seonghwa through the glass panel, dazed.

“Yes?” he replies, and then again when he remembers to turn the mic on. “What is it?”

“I asked you to play it for me.”

Seonghwa’s expression is open and relaxed, but his brows draw together when Hongjoong apologizes–he didn’t press the record button and the verse is gone. He hasn’t even paid attention if it was good and worth keeping. It might have been, because Seonghwa’s face remains scrunched in a grimace.

“Sorry,” Hoongjoong says for the third time. “Let’s go again, you’re on a roll.”

And it’s true. Seonghwa had been committed to today’s recording like it was the last thing he was ever going to do in his life.

But Seonghwa slides the headphones off, puts them on the hook and leaves the booth.

“Let’s take a break,” he says, sprawling himself on the couch. “You’ve been distracted lately,” he continues, not looking at Hongjoong. “You’ve been staring at your phone today–who is it?”

Not what, but who.

Hongjoong almost drops the said phone again, accidentally pressing the send button on the half-written message to Hyojung. He panics, backtracks and gives an easy excuse of his members harassing him, it was all an accident, a somehow cute apology coming out of it.

All he receives back is a laughing emoji.

Seoghwa’s observing him, and he shakes his head when Hongjoong at last puts his phone down.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says, smiling, “Just–If you need a break, let me know.”

If only he could tell him. But it's embarrassing, more than what happened with Wooyoung a couple of months ago. Remembering it now makes Hongjoong squirm in his seat, words like lead on his tongue, unable to leave his mouth. He could say anything, even half of it, and yet.

“Thanks,” he croaks, his lips twitching up involuntarily. “I–I’m…”

Despite his best effort, Hongjoong just can't do this.

“Let's do this,” Seonghwa says, sitting up, “We power-through this, half an hour, and then go grab something to eat. What would you say?”

Not for the first time Hongjoong wonders if he’d have ever gone that far without Seonghwa by his side. He would've perished, most probably.

“It's really nothing,” Hongjoong says when, bundled up in warm jackets, they leave the studio forty minutes later. “I’m not–seeing anybody, or anything like that.”

“No?” Seonghwa asks, the tone of his voice neutral and unreadable. “Really?”

“No,” Hongjoong confirms.

There are no further questions, just their soft steps on the pavement and the street sounds all around them.

They’re waiting for their food to arrive when Seonghwa’s phone starts ringing. He dwells on whether to answer it or not, but with Hongjoong’s prompting gaze, he excuses himself to take it outside. The fact Seonghwa doesn’t just answer it in Hongjoong’s presence makes him feel a certain way. A bitter kind of way.

You don’t have a claim to that, he reminds himself.

“Sorry,” Seonghwa says when he comes back after less than two minutes. “I know we’re about to have dinner but–” he grimaces, fiddling with his chopsticks. “Well, if it’s not a bother to go back to the dorm alone, I’ll go meet some friends.”

Hongjoong blinks up at him. Is he asking for his permission? His stomach feels uncomfortable again, but it has nothing to do with him being hungry.

“Sure?” he says in the form of a question, because it feels bizarre. “Why are you even asking, Seonghwa-ya?”

Seonghwa’s face turns pink.

“Ah, it’s just that we kind of made plans for dinner and…” he laughs nervously. “Don’t mind me, Hongjoong-ah. For now, let’s eat.”

Like magic, their food arrives, and they get busy stuffing themselves full. Predictably, Seonghwa finishes first. Then, he keeps taking glances at Hongjoong’s bowl.

“Seonghwa-ya,” he sighs. “You can go, if you want. I got this.”

“No, no,” Seonghwa protests. “It’s just–are you really leaving all the veggies out?”

On Hongjoong’s plate, most of the meat in his tangsuyuk is gone, leaving an assortment of paprika, onion and carrots untouched.

“I don't–” Hongjoong huffs. “Do you want them?”

Seonghwa clicks his tongue.

“Hongjoong-ssi,” Seonghwa says, “You should eat your vegetables.”

Squirming in his seat, Hongjoong pushes his plate to the center of the table.

“We both know I won't eat them,” he whines. “Please.”

With a resigned sigh, Seonghwa reaches for the plate and starts moving the untouched vegetables onto his own plate.

Seonghwa finishes in silence, and starts gathering his things when every plate and bowl on his side is scrubbed clean.

“I’ll pay and go,” he says, finishing out his wallet.

“Don't be silly,” Hongjoong protests. “Go, I'll take care of it.”

“But I ate twice as much–”

“Seonghwa-ssi,” Hongjoong says. “Go have fun.”

Hongjoong knows Seonghwa loves to be pampered. He knows by the always present smile on his face when somebody insists on paying or just at the mere suggestion of being treated to something nice.

It's the same right now. He doesn't object more and gives Hongjoong the prettiest smile, his eyes sparkling.

“Thank you, Hongjoongie,” he says in a lilting voice, and when he leaves the restaurant there's a spring to his step.

Hongjoong’s stomach can't stop twisting and turning. He never finishes his meat.

Paris fashion week takes Hongjoong's mind off his internal conflict. There's too much going on. There's the anxiety that's tinged with excitement when it comes to the Balmain show, and the concern about Jongho’s knee surgery.

In Paris, he meets with Wooyoung, and the familiarity of one of his members by his side soothes Hongjoong's worries a bit. Despite Wooyoung asking him about his sex life between vlog recordings. When Hongjoong won't budge and says nothing, he whines.

There's nothing to tell, anyway.

He throws the question back at Wooyoung and has him fumbling and ending the topic swiftly.

Fortunately, everything goes well, including the surgery, and Jongho insists on joining them as fast as possible.

Two weeks is not much time at all, and being back in Paris feels like Hongjoong hasn't left at all.

After the performance, Jongho is happy if not a little tired, limping the second they go off stage.

“Aish, even with sitting through most of the thing–” Seonghwa fusses over the maknae, trying to give him a hand.

Jongho grumbles and still tries to walk on his own.

Exasperated, Seonghwa turns to him.

“Hongjoong-ah,” he pleads, “Captain, say something.”

“Jongho knows his limits,” Hongjoong says, pointing his finger at the youngest, “and that's why he’s going to the car right away.”

“-but the clothes!” Jongho protests.

“Like it's an issue,” Hongjoong points out. “We can as well just get the room service and skip the restaurant.”

Jongho clamps his mouth shut, just to mutter something to Mingi a minute later, in full banmal.

Hongjoong is too exhausted to reprimand him further. Their set wasn't as tiresome as a full concert, but with soundcheck in the morning and a neverending jetlag, he does feel it down to his bones.

Seonghwa is placated but not exactly pleased, and he whispers something to Yeosang which is probably a subtle guide to helping Jongho nevertheless. If he's going to listen to anybody, it'd probably be Yeosang, so it's a good call.

In the face of food, the mood lifts up. It's the usual ordeal of laughing, stealing food and some drinking.

Hongjoong has one beer he downs in three big gulps and he's on the verge of tipsy. It passes quickly and when they go back to their hotel, he doesn't feel the alcohol anymore. Despite the exhaustion, he turns his laptop on to play around in Cubase. He’s tweaking one of the beats that he just can't get to his liking, when there's a knock on his door.

He checks his phone first.

There's a message in his private chat with Seonghwa, one that ends with ㅠㅠ, and Hongjoong goes to open the door immediately.

“Why would Wooyoung kick you out?” he asks, faced eye to eye with Seonghwa’s pout and still damp hair falling into his eyes; it’s gotten long and it makes Seonghwa look even prettier.

Seonghwa flops onto Hongjoong’s bed with his arms spread wide.

“It’s the woosan thing,” he says. “They wanted–you know.”

Confused, Hongjoong sits beside him.

“What about woosanhwa?”

“Fuck, no,” Seonghgwa laughs, “There’s no woosanhwa in that equation.”

“What?” he asks, the confusion only growing more. “What equation?”

Seonghwa turns his head to give Hongjoong an exasperated look. Then, his expression changes, and keeps changing as he observes Hongjoong’s face.

“Wait,” he says at last, propping himself up. “Wait a moment, you–you don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

If the enigma isn’t going to be spelled out for Hongjoong, he's going to go insane any minute now.

“Ah, shit,” Seonghwa mumbles, putting his head in his hands. “Shit, I thought you knew.”

“Park Seonghwa, I swear, what are you talking about?”

There’s a pregnant pause. Then, Seonghwa is taking in a big breath, and without looking at Hongjoong he reveals the truth.

“They’re what now?!”

It shouldn’t be as shocking as it feels, but maybe it’s not the mere reality that Wooyoung and San are sleeping together, are together in a way, but the fact that it never occurred to Hongjoong something like that is going on right under his nose.

Then, he suddenly remembers what Wooyoung said back then: that he can get sex if he wants to, and that both parties would have the same thing to lose if it came to it.

The clue has been there all along. Hongjoong was just too focused on his own unsatisfied urges that dimmed his perception of everything and everyone around him. Maybe except Seonghwa, of whom he’s been too aware of for a while now, and who’s looking at him with morose eyes now.

“Please don’t say anything?” he pleads. “Wooyoungie would be so–”

“Seonghwa-ya,” Hongjoong interrupts. “Is this–are they–”

He just can’t wrap his head around it, even if it’s quite easy–they know what they’re doing, obviously.

“Who else knows?” he settles on asking.

Curling into himself, Seonghwa throws himself back onto the bed. The ends of his hair tickle Hongjoong’s bare calf; it’s almost dry by now.

“Yeosang, of course,” he mumbles. “But that’s it, as far as I know.”

“Yeosang, of course…” Hongjoong repeats, the cogs in his mind twisting and turning. “Wait, is he also–?”

It’s just a gut feeling, and Seonghwa flushing only confirms what Hongjoong suspects.

“I don’t know about that,” Seonghwa says, squirming. “If anything, it’s–it’s complicated.”

“Well,” Hongjoong sighs, “they never not get along, so… Whatever works for them, I guess.”

He starts to gather his things to move them away from the bed. He saves the audio on his laptop, unplugs the headphones and scoots to pull the covers up and slip under them.

“C’mon,” he says, nudging Seonghwa with his foot, “let’s go to sleep.”

After Seonghwa fluffs the pillow to his liking and pulls the covers all the way to his nose, Hongjoong turns the lights off. But even in the darkness, he can feel Seonghwa’s eyes on him.

“What is it, Seonghwa-ya?”

“You’re not mad, are you?”

Hongjoong takes a deep breath. His own eyes are directed at the ceiling. All he sees is darkness.

“No, I’m not,” he says truthfully. “I’m just surprised, I guess.”

“So if I hug you now, you won’t bite my head off?”

If there was any tension left in his body, it leaves Hongjoong’s body now, like the last trapped air in a balloon gently being released.

“C’m here,” Hongjoong mumbles, and waits.

Seonghwa shuffles closer, finding Hongjoong’s bicep with his hand. That's where his tattoo is, right under  Seonghwa's fingertips, and his hold is relentless even when he glues himself to Hongjoong's side and fits himself into the curve of Hongjoong's body.

It’s hard to say if the hug is more for Seonghwa’s benefit, or for Hongjoong’s.

Hongjoong doesn’t know what possesses him then. The tiredness makes him act on instinct and feeling. Craning his neck, he presses his lips to Seonghwa’s forehead. It’s a firm kiss, and a little bit long, but there’s no alarm ringing in Hongjoong’s ears when he moves away. There’s just silence. Hongjoong doesn’t even move far–he turns his head back into a more comfortable position on the pillow, but his face stays pressed against Seonghwa’s head.

It only registers, what Hongjoong really did, what he started, when Seonghwa moves away and does something that renders Hongjoong speechless. There’s a soft caress of lips on his jaw and then a warm moistness when they wrap around the sharp hinge of it.

And maybe nothing would come out of it, maybe they’d go to sleep and never talk about it, if Hongjoong didn’t let out a strangled sound which is too close to a whine.

It feels good. Really good.

But it brings Seonghwa to awareness.

“Ah,” he gasps, a little confused, a little alarmed. “Um, Hongjoong-ah…”

It tickles Hongjoong’s ear, the breathy whisper hitting his lobe, his cheek, his neck. Seonghwa’s nose catches on the same spot on his jaw he’s just kissed, and Hongjoong moves towards it, shifts his head and dips down into a real kiss.

This time, it’s Seonghwa who lets out a needy sound right into Hongjoong’s mouth, and then they’re kissing like it’s not their first kiss–there’s no hesitation, no tentative learning of how the other likes it. It’s urgent, wet, tongues meeting in the middle of it all.

It’s toes-curling and euphoric, like nothing Hongjoong has ever felt before.

Seonghwa’s hand curls around his chest, squeezes one of his pecs, moans against him again, and it’s all it takes for Hongjoong to move his hands. He finds Soenghwa’s waist, then the skin under his sleeping shirt and brings him closer, almost on top of himself. Seonghwa’s leg slips between his, and he arches into him, moves his hand to brace himself on the bed and the next push against Hongjoong is absolutely on purpose–he’s trying to get off, just like that, with his hard cock pressed against Hongjoon’s thigh. Hongoong tightens his muscles on pure instinct and is rewarded with a gasp he drinks off Seonghwa's lips.

Through all of it, they keep kissing, slowing down at times only to dive deeper the next moment, and Hongjoong shoves his hand down his pants and starts stroking himself hard and fast. It jostles Seonghwa a little, and he curses into the kiss, soon breaking it to push himself up just so he can look down to where Hongjoong’s cock keeps disappearing and reappearing between the tight ring of his fingers.

In measured movements, Seonghwa opens his legs wider, one knee pushing Hongjoong’s leg away. He goes faster against his thigh, forehead falling onto Hongjoong’s clavicle so he can keep looking.

Now, Hongjoong doesn’t only feel Seonghwa’s cock, but his balls as well. And before he can fully appreciate it, or maybe guide Seonghwa to move a little bit slower, a bit more fluid, Hongjoong starts coming, panting through his open mouth, half-surprised and half-ecstatic.

Surprised, because he just jerked off to Seonghwa, his best friend, and in his presence. With his help. Not literal help, because it was Hongjoong's own hand on his dick, but it's just a detail.

He’s so shocked he almost doesn’t catch when Seonghwa’s climax hits him, but in the end there’s no way he could have missed it–there are teeth closing on his shoulder, a whimpered groan pushing a hot gust of breath against his skin that feels like it’s burning him alive. And then he registers how it feels against his thigh, even through the fabric of Seonghwa’s sleeping shorts, his cock jumping a little, and then the sticky wetness that seeps through.

It’s the hottest thing that has ever happened to him. Not like it’s that hard, with his limited experiences, but still. It wasn’t even a competition.

“Next time, I’m going to fuck you properly,” Seonghwa groans into his neck, low and breathy.

Hongjoong wonders if his post-orgasm mind just made it all up. Next time?

Seonghwa interprets the silence as something else entirely.

“Or you can fuck me,” he murmurs, pressing a shadow of a kiss into his skin. “I’d more than like that too.”

Hongjoong’s mind kick-starts again, and he absentmindedly pats Seonghwa’s back.

“Uh,” he grunts. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

There’s a quality to Seonghwa’s voice Hongjoong can’t decipher. He does sound eager, so maybe the prospect of more sex excites him. It definitely excites Hongjoong. A lot. He tries not to sound too eager interested when he hums an agreement, melting into the bed.

They don’t even clean up, just get rid of the soiled clothes and stay in bed, naked under the covers, which surprises Hongjoong. Seonghwa tends to be neurotic about things like this, but this time it goes as far as huffing a command at uncooperating Hongjoong about taking his underwear off. In the end, Seonghwa does it all himself, swatting at Hongjoong’s bare ass.  Had they not just had sex, Hongjoong would have gotten excited and maybe even told Seonghwa to do it again.

But the night ends like so many of their nights lately–sans the nakedness. Barely touching each other, they go to sleep in the same bed, only to end up tangled together in the morning. Sometimes it’s only their ankles, sometimes one of them curls an arm around the other, but almost never they wake up straight up spooning–like now. Seonghwa holds Hongjoong like he’s a pillow, or a rag doll, just clutching him to his chest. It’s better this way, anyway, because if they were pressed together from the waist down… well. Not for the first time, Hongjoong wakes up half-hard, and the more he thinks about last night, the more blood rushes down.

Then, his mind goes to San and Wooyoung. ALl this time, they’ve been able to keep their relationship under wraps. What they show to the outside world is easily written under fanservice. It’s a perfect disguise. But it makes Hongjoong conjure dangerous thoughts. Could Hongjoong do the same with Seonghwa? Nobody needs to know what they’ve done last night.

And nobody needs to know if it happens again.

It does happen again, but not right away. Hongjoong wants it and he's pretty sure Seonghwa does too. If the looks he sometimes catches are anything to go by.

And it's not like it's new for Seonghwa to give him glances. It's natural, not only because of the specifics of their job. They've always gravitated towards each other. Hongjoong is the captain, but Seonghwa is the oldest. Maybe there's something to pairing them up from the beginning. Or maybe they did it themselves.

When the next time happens, they don't have sex–not the way Seonghwa has wished for. Two weeks later Seonghwa goes down on Hongjoong in a company bathroom, of all places.

One moment they’re cleaning up the last bits of choreography for Crazy Form, and the next Seonghwa follows him to the bathroom, makes him take two flights of stairs to the more secluded one, and pushes him into a stall with so much force he seats on the toilet lid, half-annoyed and half-hard in his sweats.

Seonghwa doesn’t even make him stand up, just goes down to his knees, barely fitting between Hongjoong’s legs and the door.

It happens a couple more times, but the extra schedules kick off way before the comeback. Neither of them have time nor energy to do anything, and then the preparation for the next tour starts and they fall back into it like a day has passed and not the entire month and a half.

But they still take it somewhat risky. Seonghwa lures him into secluded rooms to climb him like a tree, even though Hongjoong is that tad bit shorter than him. There’s no lack of trying, he can hive Seonghwa that.

When Wooyoung corners him about their little secret just a few days before the Seoul concerts, Hongjoong is not ready. He’s been sure they’ve been keeping it under wraps well enough.

How come he and San have done it this far without Hongjoong noticing, but Wooyoung discovers them so soon?

“It’s not–” Hongjoong stutters, squirming on the sofa he almost falls asleep on after too many hours at his studio. “We don't–uh.”

“Seonghwa-hyung told me,” Wooyoung admits airily, “You can drop the act, hyung.”

Hongjoong rubs his eyes; they keep itching, probably too dry after staying awake for 18 hours straight.

“What about it, then?” he asks defensively.

They might not have been discovered because of their carelessness, but it doesn’t mean Hongjoong is inclined to discuss it with anyone. He doesn’t even talk about it with Seonghwa. Shushing each other when one of them moans too loudly is as far as they go in the regards of discussing their arrangement. It can’t even be described as discussion, really.

Before answering, Wooyoung joins Hongjoong on the sofa. He lays down, wiggling his way into Hongjoong's lap.

“Well,” he says, looking up at him, “Seonghwa-hyung is very sexy.”

It gives Hongjoong a start. He laughs nervously.

“I’m aware,” he says, way too shyly for his liking.

“Mm,” Wooyoung sighs, “Aren't you lucky–”

He yawns, pushing his head into Hongjoong's stomach. He keeps pushing, until Hongjoong relents and starts petting his hair.

“You're quite lucky yourself, aren't you, Wooyoungie?”

“Pretty much,” he giggles, “much and a lot!”

They don't speak on their predicaments further. Wooyoung asks about the solo songs Hongjoong has been slowly working on for them.

His heart feels a little bit lighter, and it doesn't take long for him to fall into slumber, Wooyoung’s little snores lulling him to sleep.

Seeing Seonghwa own the stage at the January concerts make Hongjoong feel both proud and horny. The more Seonghwa works out, the more insane his body becomes, and with the stage clothes, teasing the perfect lines of his body, the muscles only half-way on display–no wonder their fans go insane. He’s seen enough about it online.

Hongjoong doesn't know how it’s possible for him to look even better now than when they were shooting the music video for Matz.

Hongjoong remembers how, on standby, Hongjoong tried kissing Seonghwa, behind one of the thick pillars of the undeveloped building, with their grillz on. It was more uncomfortable than hot and they laughed in each other's faces, stumbling from around their cover and almost falling to the ground. He also remembers, when he looked at Seonghwa for too long, admiring the fake tattoo on his neck, the corners of Seonghwa’s mouth lifted in a coy smile. “Do you like it?” He asked when the vlog camera’s battery ran out and nobody was paying attention to them. Used to be shy about compliments, not really believing in them, has slowly disappeared and nowadays Seonghwa takes the flattering words in stride, proudly and happily.

And maybe it rubs off on Hongjoong too, because it comes somehow easier to give those compliments to him. Even in front of the camera, his natural tendency of encouraging his members easily expands to Seonghwa now. Then, there are their fans who are happy about the slight shift in Hongjoong’s behavior towards Seonghwa and it only convinces him more–not to purposely try, but to just let it go and simply play along.

It’s surprisingly easy to praise Seonghwa after the first day, even if it's hard to meet his eyes after he lets himself be hugged, briefly but fiercely. After the second concert, it gets harder because Hongjoong wants to convey his feelings through a kiss he can't lay on Seonghwa's lips. First, there are the cameras, and after they get turned off, the members are there, their managers, bodyguards, and all their staff, but there's this one thing he can have–Seonghwa’s hand in his when they finally get on the van home, squeezed between their thighs.

It’s the middle of the night when Hongjoong crawls into his bed, memories of two last days on stage mingling with those of the last couple of months–Seonghwa the center of them all. Before Hongjoong can dwell on why he keeps thinking about his best friend or maybe try to stop the whirlwind of scenes going behind his eyelids like a kaleidoscope, Seonghwa joins him in bed. Freshly showered, smelling only of fresh skin and the herbal shampoo, he goes straight for Hongjoong’s mouth. But after just one heated kiss, he slumps against Hongjoong’s chest, exhausted, and despite a half-hard cock pressed into Hongjoong’s thigh, he settles for sleep.

And maybe it’s a good thing that’s all they do, because in the morning, Wooyoung slips into his room with one purpose only, and it's to rudely awaken them.

“Omma! Appa! Wake up!”

The members mostly grew out of their phase of calling them that, just sometimes using it–either to gain something or just to be annoying. It’s without doubt the latter case now, and Hongjoong strains to pull the pillow from under his head and chuck it across the room at his housemate. He misses by a mile, to Wooyoung’s infinite delight.

Then, it’s Seonghwa who grabs another pillow and he’d have hit his target if Wooyoung wasn’t fast enough to escape the room and jump behind the closing door.

Wooyoug’s loud cackle sounds from down the hall.

“I’m going to eat him for breakfast,” Seonghwa grumbles.

His voice is rough with sleep and it thrums against Hongjoong’s skin.

“Season him well,” Hongjoong adds, stretching under Seonghwa’s limbs.

Snorting, Seonghwa pulls himself up and then drags Hongjoong off the bed with him.

In the kitchen, Jonho’s drinking water straight from the bottle, his hair a tangle on top of his head. Seonghwa lets out an exasperated sigh and tries to tame Jongho’s unruly hair to the younger’s great dismay.

They eat together, the four of them, just rice, eggs, kimchi and instant corn soup. It’s only half an hour of peace before they all scatter for schedules or free time they spend however each of them desires. As usual, Hongjoong goes to the studio, and spends half of his time there to think about Coachella. And then, he thinks about something else entirely, something Seonghwa has mentioned before.

Team rings.

He pulls a search engine on his phone and for the first time he doesn’t stay at the studio way past midnight because of music.

On the short break, Hongjoong gladly goes on a family trip. He tries to truly relax. He’s mostly successful, except getting a couple of calls: from their manager, from Eden and from the Cartier artist creating the team rings. It doesn’t take away from enjoying his time with his family and the snowy scenery of Hokkaido. It’s beautiful enough, even though it’s not his dream destination, but he’s glad they’ve come to the trip nonetheless.

Then, on the last day of his overseas stay, he reads something in the group chat that makes his brain malfunction and his heart to stop for a second.

Seonghwa sends a picture of himself. It’s his reflection in a full length mirror, asking for validation of his outfit. It’s a hard task to dress up in cold weather. On one hand, you don’t want to look like a kid going for a sleigh ride but on the other, you don’t want to freeze to death in something stylish but unfunctional. Except for when you go by car and can get away with wearing something thin, which must be the case now. Seonghwa looks like it’s spring already and not a temperature that turns the puddles on the pavement into mini ice rings.

Hyung always looks good!

That’s what San replies with, followed by a couple of thumbs up from the other members. Predictably, Mingi doesn’t reply at all. And Wooyoung–he asks if it’s for a hot date.

When Hongjoong first reads the conversation, there’s no answer from Seonghwa yet. Then, he keeps checking their chat, and only after quite some time, Seonghwa sends his answer. There’s a giggling emoji, and a cryptic “i don't kiss and tell!” and even after Wooyoung keeps insisting on telling them, all that Seonghwa replies with are cute stickers.

Hongjoong’s stomach churns. It’s not like they’re exclusive. Or rather, they’ve never established if they were. To Hongjoong, it’s a given. It’s safe. He doesn’t need to have sex with more people. Who’s even hotter than Seonghwa, anyway?

That might be the exact problem–Seonghwa is so hot there’s plenty of people who’d die over having one chance with him. And Seonghwa could pick anyone he wanted.

Even on the flight back to Korea, Hongjoong’s stomach feels queasy.

The schedules pick up right away. It’s back and forth between Japan and rehearsals, with all the other things inbetween. Added to that mix is their excitement but also soon, even after their break, the exhaustion and a little bit of anxiety. It’s peculiar that even after all those years, they at times can feel insecure. They’re the first korean boy band to be invited to Coachela, and yet Hongjoong sees the hesitation in his members’ eyes. In his own too, when he looks in the practice room mirrors, when they miss a beat or a step.

Like right now. Hongjoong puts his hands on his hips. The mistake is forgotten, and Hongjoong's hesitation soon disappears, because a hot dispute about dinner among the ‘99 line erupts, faster than lightning. Jongho tries to be an arbiter between those who want chicken and those who want pizza. From the floor, Seonghwa tries to intervene, without much success.

“Yedeul-ah,” he calls, waving his hand.

He’s covered in sweat, damp hair plastered to his forehead, sweats hanging low on his hips. He calls them again, between taking deep breaths, but it gets lost with how high the tone of Wooyoung’s voice goes, accompanied by Yeosang’s timid whines and Yunho’s rich laugh.

The longer the cacophony of sounds continues, the higher probability of Hongjoong developing a headache.

He claps his hands twice.

“I’ll order jjajangmyeon for all of us,” he says, and without waiting for their reaction, goes to pick up his phone.

He should have known better. The new kind of chaos ensues, because of course they don’t want to eat jjajangmyeon. Even Seonghwa sits up on the floor and is looking at Hongjoong with betrayed eyes and a pout.

“What?” Hongjoong asks inaudibly, shrugging his shoulders.

Seonghwa frowns and joins the others.

“What about that place where we ordered both pizza and chicken from the last time?”

“Their soy-garlic chicken wasn’t that good…” Yeosang sighs.

Jongho nods, but Wooyoung groans.

“Ahh,” he whines. “We're going to starve here!”

Resigned, Hongjoong starts browsing the internet.

“I’m ordering pizza,” he says, and before any objections can arise, adds, “and Seonghwa is going to order chicken. Go wash up.”

He squirms away from the sweaty hugs from the members, whining about the risk of dropping his phone for good measure. With the corner of his eye, he catches Wooyoung giving Seonghwa a kiss on the cheek, and San nuzzling into his shoulder before they bounce out the practice room.

The one that stays behind is Jongho, murmuring suggestions to Seonghwa–using his maknae privileges for his own benefit. When the order is placed, he saunters off with a satisfied little smile.

The only other one that lingers is Mingi. He’s propped under the pillar, with his eyes closed and half-drank bottle of water by his side; it’s uncapped, and Seonghwa notices it right away.

“Mingi-ya,” he says, plopping beside him. “You good?”

“Of course,” Mingi replies after he blinks his eyes open. “'m just tired.”

Hongjoong wonders if he should leave them be. To this day, Hongjoong struggles with vulnerability. More with his own and with showing it in front of others, but still. 

Closing his eyes, Hongjoong pushes his hair away from his forehead. Sometimes, there are more important things than your own comfort. He joins the other two on the floor. He’s picked a towel for Mingi and now hands it over to him.

“When’s your next appointment?”

Mingi’s out of therapy, for the most part, but they all get checkups once in a while. Mingi just has them a bit more often. And the princess that he is, he whines at the question.

“I’m fine! Hyungs, please!”

Hongjoong lays down, propping his head on Mingi’s legs. He taps on his ankle.

“That’s not an answer to my question, Mingi-ya.”

He says it gently, trying to catch his gaze.

“Before Coachella,” Mingi says at last.

Then, Seonghwa asks him about some fashion brand and Hongjoong only listens in, content to just stay with them; the low murmur of their voices almost luls him to sleep.

When food arrives, Seonghwa urges Mingi to go wash his hands, and then, drags Hongjoong with him to the other bathroom.

“Taking care of six kids…” Seonghwa muses, lathering his hands. “Wow.”

Beside him, Hongjoong snorts. He reaches to squeeze some soap onto his own hands. They stand side by side in front of the sink, their hips bumping into each other.

“Three for each of us,” Hongjoong adds, “it’s not that bad, is it?”

Seonghwa laughs.

“Sounds like an excuse a father would give.”

This time, when their hips touch, it’s on purpose. Hongjoong pushes into Seonghwa, startling him. What he doesn’t expect is for Seonghwa to retaliate by splashing him with water.

“Yah!”

Instead of replying with the same, Hongjoong puts his wet hands on Seonghwa’s face.

“Shit, you–”

He cages Hongjoong against the sink, wriggles his hand into Hongjoong’s tank top and wipes his hands into the skin there.

Hongjoong yelps, trying to move away from the uncomfortable feeling, but there’s no other way than to move forward–right into Seonghwa. Without realizing it, Hongjoong finds his hands tangled in Seonghwa’s hair. There’s only a second of eye-contact before they’re kissing.

They press into each other harder. 

Seonghwa’s lips are a bit dry and Hongjoong sucks on the bottom one, licks over the upper lip like he wants to paint on it with the tip of his tongue. Seonghwa lets him, but not for long, whining into his mouth with impatience.

Hongjoong is on his way to letting Seonghwa step even closer, right between his legs, when they hear voices outside the bathroom; they’re getting closer impossibly fast.

Instead of just–separating, leaving, anything, they freeze. Their chests keep moving with every inhale and exhale as they try catching their breaths, but beside that, they’re motionless.

There’s a hand on the handle, jostling it a little, but nobody enters yet. They’re laughing outside–Wooyoung and Yeosang.

With the last bit of sanity, Hongjoong drops his hands. But Seonghwa doesn’t move away from him. He untangles his fingers from Hongjoong's clothes and cradles Hongjoong’s face, tipping it up.

“Don’t move,” Seonghwa says, furrowing his brows.

The door opens.

“And then, Yeonjunie sent the most ridiculous–oh.”

Wooyoung stops in his tracks, mouth open in a gasp. From behind him, Yeosang peeks inside the bathroom.

“I don’t see anything,” Seonghwa says, turning Hongjoong’s head this and that way. “Where–oh, wait. Blink.”

Hongjoong does blink, and it finally catches up to him–the ploy. He keeps blinking, and then lets out a distressed sound.

“What are you doing, hyungs?”

Hongjoong wants to answer, but Seonghwa presses into the inner corner of his right eye, swiping out.

“Here,” Seonghwa muses, finally stepping away. “You have too long lashes for your own good, Honjoongie.”

More intangible sounds fall past Hongjoong’s lips, and he’s sure he’s flushed by now.

“A lash fell into Hongoong’s eye,” Seonghwa explains at last. “Please, tell me there’s any food left for us.”

Yeosang drags Wooyoung back, making way for Seonghwa to leave.

“You coming, Hongjoong-ah?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Seonghwa loops his arm around Hongjoong’s shoulders, casually, and Hongjoong wonders if his neck warming up is simply because of them being almost caught, or it’s Wooyoung burning holes in his back.

Later that day, Hongjoong does something incomprehensible once again.

Both Seonghwa and San stop by the other dorm, and Wooyoung is draped all over Seonghwa, whispering into his ear. Seonghwa tries to dislodge him, but only playfully, because he keeps giggling at whatever Wooyoung is saying.

San doesn’t pay them any mind, leaned over the phone with Jongho.

Hongjoong has been feeling on edge after the whole bathroom–well, not fiasco per se, but a situation that keeps repeating in his head. Not the part where they almost got caught, but everything that happened before that. He remembers Seonghwa’s wet hands on him, the shape of his mouth against his, the texture of his tongue.

The press of his cock right over his own.

He’s sure they were both a step away from getting each other off yet again. Their makeout session was too desperate. And now, looking at Wooyoung wrapped all around his best friend, his hands moving from Seonghwa’s waist, to his shoulders, and back, pinching him a little, hiding his face in Seonghwa’s nape–

Hongjoong isn’t jealous. Not only because he loves Wooyoung and the way he shows affection for the members, but because it’s not his place to be jealous. If anything, it’s envy. He wants to be the one to touch Seonghwa, and pin him against any and every surface, and put his mouth on him again.

You’re ridiculous, he thinks, and fails to look away in time to avoid Seonghwa catching his gaze.

There must be something in Hongjoong's expression, because Seonghwa whines, and reaches his hands for him.

“Save me, Hongjoong-ah!”

Wooyoung tugs at Seonghwa’s arm, and Hongjoong has no other way but to help for real. Letting it go on further might end up in nonsensical injury.

Or so Hongjoong tells himself.

“Wooyoung-ah,” Hongjoong says, and, miraculously, that’s enough.

That’s enough but Hongjoong still takes Seonghwa to his room, with Wooyoung following them with his eyes.

For good measure, Hongjoong locks the door, and then they’re on each other, like hours haven’t passed since their bathroom encounter, but mere seconds. It is different this time though. Hongjoong feels frantic. He paws at Seonghwa’s pants–soft sweats cut around the knees–and when he catches the hem, he tugs them down all at once.

Seonghwa has the audacity to laugh, breaking the kiss, so Hongjoong mouths at his neck instead. Then, Seonghwa moans, too loud, when Hongjoong scratches at his bare asscheeks–from the center to his hips. He ends up gripping him around the bones, hard.

He can see Seonghwa’s cock filling up in real time, and the desire just overflows, spilling over, guiding Hongjoong’s actions.

He falls to his knees.

Over him, Seonghwa curses, squeezes Hongjoong’s arms, and grips the hair at Hongjoong’s nape when he puts the tip in his mouth.

Hongjoong has never done this before. Sure, he was on the receiving end a couple of times, most of them from Seonghwa, and he wanted to do it too, but never to the point of just going for it.

Now, he needs to close his eyes, because it feels better than he’s imagined. The taste, the texture of skin is new, but what really matters is the feeling. His mouth waters and he almost chokes on his own spit.

Seonghwa’s hold on him tightens.

Mindlessly, Hongjoong thinks about marking Seonghwa, despite the obvious risk, and his teeth catch on the delicate skin.

“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa hisses, pulling him off himself.

“I know, I know,” he promises and surges back in, to suck on the head, hard.

Seonghwa doesn’t soften at all, and when Hongjoong palms his ass, he comes.

Caught off-guard, Hongjoong coughs, some of the come sliding down his throat, and the rest dribbling onto his chin. He wipes it off with his hand, and then onto his shirt.

He needs help standing up, his knees sore and locked in to the point that he stumbles into Seonghwa when he tries to straighten them. He only remembers how pent-up he is himself when Seonghwa palms him through his trousers. Before he knows it, Seonghwa is kissing his own come off Hongjoong’s lips and then his hand is not over but under his clothes.

It maybe takes a minute for his climax to hit him like a truck.

After, Hongjoong can barely keep himself up. Seonghwa might have the same problem, because they just stay leaning against the closet.

“I don’t think I’m brave enough to leave now,” Seonghwa admits after a while.

Snickering, Hongjoong gets rid of his clothes all together. He opens the other door to the closet and starts looking for something for both of them to wear.

“Just stay,” he says, handing Seonghwa a t-shirt and some pants. “It’s not like, um, like it’d be the first time.”

Seonghwa doesn’t reply to that. Hongjoong is too embarrassed to look at him, busying himself with the discarded clothes, piling them at the foot of his bed–the laundry baskets are outside, and, just like Seonghwa, he’s not too keen on leaving the room just yet.

But he has to. He’s supposed to go to the studio; it’s still early enough to squeeze a couple of hours of work.

Trying to stay distracted from Seonghwa settling on his bed, he scrolls through his phone mindlessly. He bites his lip, braving himself to leave.

The bitter taste in his mouth lingers, and he clears his throat. 

“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa says, the sheets rustling. He taps his fingers on Hongjoong’s waist and it takes all Hongjoong’s willpower not to flinch. “Will you bring us some water?”

“Mhm,” Hongjoong hums agreeably and leaves as fast as if a fire was chasing him, forgetting what might await him outside.

In the kitchen, Wooyoung is preparing tea, with Jongho waiting patiently. San must have left in the meantime.

Hongjoong’s sure he’s safe when he turns away from the fridge with a bottle of water in his hand, but he’s not in luck. Jongho asks him what they’re up to. It’s a simple question that shouldn’t make Hongjoong sweat, and yet.

“Just–talking,” he replies, laughing nervously. “You know, with Coachella and everything… uh, yeah.”

“It didn’t sound like you were talking,” Wooyoung snorts, pouring hot water into the cups.

Only now Hongjoong sees four cups lined up on the counter. His stomach does a somersault.

Jongho cocks his head.

“We’re–we,” Hongjoong stutters, sweating even more. “We were fighting.”

“Fighting?”

Now, Jongho looks worried.

Fuck.

“Not like that!” Hongjoong protests, almost dropping his bottle. “I mean, like–you know, play-fighting?”

He shouldn't have phrased it like a question. Jongho looks at him like he doesn’t believe him, and Wooyoung gives him an incredible eye-roll.

“Old people activities,” Wooyoung says, winking at Jongho.

Finally, Hongjoong gets his bearings.

“Yah,” he says, lifting the water bottle and pointing it at Wooyoung, “you want to talk in my room?”

“Hongjoong-hyung.” Wooyoung looks him dead in the eye. “Your room is occupied.”

Hongjoong wants to scream. He can never get a break, can he?

“It can be arranged in your room,” he threatens.

“Sorry, dad,” Wooyoung says in a cute voice.

Hongjoong takes the swing of the water, finally remembering he’s supposed to bring it to Seonghwa.

Jongho gives him another concerned look. It feels like Hongjoong is stuck at being one step from a disaster.

“I’m going to the studio,” Hongjoong announces loudly.

“What about the tea?” Jongho asks.

Everything, absolutely everything is against Hongjoong today. The urge to start screaming intensifies. He wants to just leave already.

“Give both to Seonghwa,” he mumbles, retreating to his room before he gets interrogated any further.

Seonghwa is on his phone when Hongjoong comes back.

“You’re leaving?”

It’s a simple question. Seonghwa isn’t whining like he doesn’t want him to leave, or gets angry because Hongjoong wants to work overtime again. It’s a simple question, yet Hongjoong gets nervous.

He bites the inside of his cheek. Putting the bottle on the bedside table, he continues avoiding Seonghwa’s eyes.

“Yeah, but you can stay,” he repeats the previous sentiment. “I might turn in late.”

Seonghwa sits up. He picks up the water bottle but doesn't open it yet.

“Will you sleep on the couch if I stay?”

The question brings back memories. It also brings up a smile. They're good memories and he knows it’s something that still could happen. Hongjoong has changed, they all did, but not that much. It only makes him smile wider.

But with the team divided between different apartments now, there's an easier way to solve it.

“I might just go claim your bed,” Hongjoong teases. “It’ll only be fair!”

“Don’t,” Seonghwa says. “Just–go back to sleep when you’re done, Hongjoong-ah.”

It sounds like there’s more to it. Hongjoong isn’t sure, but there’s something in Seonghwa’s eyes. Something that makes Hongjoong want to touch his face, his hair. All he manages is touching his arm, very briefly.

“Rest, Seonghwa-ya.”

Seonghwa doesn't argue further. After drinking the water, he settles back down.

This time, when Hongjoong is leaving, he wants to take the last look at Seonghwa–of him lying in his bed, but again, he refrains. He tries not to regret it.

At the studio, Hongjoong’s endeavors aren't as fruitful as he’s hoped. He considers going on live, but he’s not in the right mindset for it. He doesn’t feel like talking.

Instead, he keeps thinking.

Hongjoong wonders if what he feels is something you feel towards your best friend. But it also doesn’t feel like something he’d feel for a lover. It’s a secret third thing he’s not sure about, still, but he does know for sure there’s this constant desire for Seonghwa that simmers right beneath his skin, cracking and burning up every time they eyes meet or their skin touches. But when it doesn’t burst out to the surface, when it’s way after they have sex or when they don’t want it, it’s just as they were before: close, taking care of the younger ones, with that bit of awkwardness that’s still the same amount but somehow, with changed colors.

It’s 3am when Hongjoong decides nothing of substance will come out of the session. Trying to make a new song fails, so he pulls up some unfinished ones, tweaks some of them, and writes a couple of lines down. He discards the idea of working on any of the solo songs for the members. Again, not the right mindset for that. He’d rather not ruin those.

It’s wasting time at this point–wasting precious hours of sleep. On autopilot, he goes to his dorm, to his room. Only when he sits on the empty bed, he remembers that it shouldn’t be, in fact, empty.

He checks his phone. Looks around the room. Nothing. Seonghwa must have returned to his own room without bothering Hongjoong while he was working. He must have wanted for Hongjoong to rest comfortably.

But Hongjoong said he might take Seonghwa’s bed instead. Did he come back to his own bed hoping Hongjoong would go there in the end?

He shakes his head. Don’t be silly. Why would he do that?

Deep down, Hongjoong knows it’s not the right question. It’s not the right question at all. Because the right one should be if Hongjoong would like for Seonghwa to want to be in the same bed with Hongjoong tonight. Or any other night.

He doesn't want to ask himself that question, because he'd have to answer it. And, deep down, he knows what the answer would be.

He goes to sleep, alone.

It’s long after it happens that Hongjoong learns about Seonghwa’s date.

Most often than not, Hongjoong is busy. Busier than other members–by his own choice. With the rehearsals and his collaboration with Chungha coming out on top of that, he kind of blanks out. He’s excited, of course, and proud as everyone congratulates him, including Seonghwa. He doesn’t even suspect that at the same time he leaves Hongjoong an excited voice message, with the cocky “I told you so!” at the end, he might have been also getting ready to go meet somebody.

They’re not together, though, him and Seonghwa. He keeps reminding himself that when his mind spirals and his heart squeezes uncomfortably.

It doesn’t help that he finds out about it from Wooyoung and that the younger won’t tell him who Seonghwa went on that date with.

“Didn’t Seonghwa tell you?”

It’s a perfectly normal counter-question from Wooyoung, if not a little deflective. But Hongjoong knows the tone Wooyoung uses is too casual, his voice lilting, and so he clamps his mouth shut before he starts demanding answers he’s not entitled to get. He could go for the staple line of the good of the team, of course. But he knows it’d be a lame excuse.

So Hongjoong just shrugs in reply.

“I must have forgotten the name,” he says, trying not to cringe at how fake it sounds.

At this point, it seems like there’s a game they’re all playing. A very stupid game which if Hongjoong wanted to end… he’d come up a loser.

It’s obvious Wooyoung is going to tell Seonghwa about Hongjoong’s inquiries, and so he decides to face the music head on.

“How was your date?”

They’re, as always these days, in the practice room. For the last three days they've been working on the whole set, checking their stamina, working on it so they don’t collapse in the middle of it.

There’s a break now, and some of the members discuss new songs they’re recording in the middle of it all.

Seonghwa is repeating steps in front of the mirror, and he stops at the question, hands flopping down.

“It was just a date,” Seonghwa smiles, then laughs out loud after a moment, “A first date–you think I’d put out on the first date?”

I know everything about you, Hongjoong thinks, except that.

They’ve never been on a date, because they’re not dating. They just fuck sometimes, and make out when they’re too tired for anything else, or look at each other for a second too long. And they never talk about it, or about romantic cravings of their hearts.

Then, Hongjoong remembers something, and asks before he can stop himself.

“Wouldn’t that be a second date, though?”

He gets an absolutely confused look in return.

“What?”

“Um, you know, last month–”

Seonghwa's expression turns incredulous.

“It wasn’t a date,” Seonghwa snorts. “I was meeting my brother and his girlfriend. Well, fiancee now.”

Hongjoong flushes. Way to make a fool of himself. Especially since Seonghwa did tell him about the engagement right around that time.

He makes a sound that’s supposed to be an agreement. It sounds more like he might be dying, and it’s not far from the truth. Yes, Hongjoong is dying–of mortification.

But Seonghwa is merciful, and he leaves it at that.

And so Hongjoong never learns about the date. They don’t talk about it again. Maybe that’s for the best.

Hyojung messages him when they’re filming for Wanteez a couple of days later. She asks if Hongjoong is free anytime soon. He doesn’t reply right away, even though he knows what he’s going to say.

He retypes the message a good three times. He knows he doesn’t have to give an elaborate explanation why he won’t be meeting her anytime soon. Or ever, probably. He even considers not replying at all, but he doesn’t want to be rude. In the end, she’s his brother’s friend.

There’s a passing thought of what if he decides to meet with Hyojung in the end, but he knows the reason why he considers it for even a second.

These past few days, Seonghwa has been keeping his distance. It’s not even that obvious, and Hongjoong wonders if he’s imagining it. Occasions not spent talking as much as usual happen sometimes, as they spend their free time in their own ways. There are six other members to have their fun with, plus they do need some alone time too.

There are signs of that distance now, though.

Hongjoong doesn’t confront Seonghwa about it. There’s already enough on their plates. It can’t be anything serious–nobody else seems to catch on that.

Some of the jokes, during recording, don’t land well. Hongjoong hopes they don’t make it into the final footage. The agency wouldn’t put that out in the world, but it’s what finally brings some attention to the nonexistent conflict.

With Wooyoung helping Seonghwa in the kitchen, it’s no wonder it’s him who corners him later, when they get the break before going to sleep.

“What’s up with you two?”

Hongjoong’s too tired to try playing dumb.

“Nothing,” he says and, despite his better judgement, he asks, “Why?”

Wooyoung scoffs.

“I know it’s hard for you to talk about feelings, hyung,” he says sternly, “but, c’mon! If there’s anyone you can talk to, it’s Seonghwa-hyung!”

“What feelings?” Hongjoong tries to laugh it off. “What are you talking about, Wooyoungie?”

There’s no other way to describe the downturn of Wooyoung’s mouth but as sad.

“Seonghwa-hyung was right,” he sighs. “Well, if you figure it out, talk to him. Talk, not fuck.”

It renders Hongjoong speechless.

“W-Wooyoung-ah,” he hisses. “That’s not–”

“Please, Hongjoongie-hyung.”

Somehow, instead of more threats, Hongjoong gets a hug. He doesn’t want to argue further, so he returns the gesture. It’s–nice. Wooyoung is always such a nice kid, even if he has the ability to raise Hongjoong’s hackles like an angry kitten.

When it’s his turn in the bathroom before they resume filming, Hongjoong replies to Hyojung’s message. Politely, but skipping any important details, he declines.

Almost instantly, a new notification pops up.

Worked it out with that person?

Last time, Hongjoong denied being in love. It wasn’t even a lie–he believed he wasn’t.

Now, even though he should follow up unchangingly, it comes way harder. He’s not so sure anymore. And how could he, when the moment he reads the question, there’s only one person that comes to his mind immidiately.

He knows that he shouldn’t say anything, but he messages her with just two words that say it all.

Not yet.

So there’s that. It feels like admitting something to himself, too. It’s scary, but not as much as he’d thought it’d be.

Hyojung gives him a cheer, and he smiles sadly at his phone.

It must still be somewhat present on his face, because he bumps into Seonghwa outside the bathroom and he stares at the phone in Hongjoong’s hand. The silence between them is awkward, in a new, agitating way.

Hongjoong hates it.

“Sorry for taking so long,” he says nonsensically, because it didn’t take him long at all.

“It’s the only time to get some private time, right?” Seonghwa murmurs tightly.

“Well, that’s not why–I don’t–”

Seonghwa shakes his head, his long hair moving in waves around his face.

“You don’t have to tell me, Hongjoong-ah, I–”

“My brother wanted me to meet somebody,” he blurts out the half-truth. It was him wanting somebody to have sex with, but he can’t say that. Definitely not now. “But I, uh, I don’t want that.”

I want you, he thinks and bites on his tongue so it doesn’t go spilling out his mouth.

“Oh, okay.” Seonghwa’s eyes are round like two sparkling gems. “Me neither.”

Then, right away, his face reddens.

“I mean,” he laughs, grabbing Hongjoong’s arm and shaking him a little, like he wants to rattle the words he said out of him. “I’m not going on any more dates.”

Hongjoong doesn’t know what to make of it. His heart wants to take a leap of faith, but his brain tells him to be rational. It doesn’t have to mean what he wants it to mean.

But it can also mean something else, something terrible Hongjoong is not ready to hear, so he doesn’t try to clarify. 

“If that’s what you want,” he says, and gets another shake in return.

All in all, what really matters is the smile that he gets at the end. Hongjoong wonders what Seonghwa is up to, taking a step closer and curling his fingers into Hongjoong’s sweater, but the ruckus in the living room breaks the moment.

Seonghwa lets out an exasperated sigh and Hongjoong laughs, stepping away.

“I’ll check on the kids. Go wash up, Seonghwa-ya.”

Just before he joins the members, something occurs to him.

With the message he sent Hyojung, she might say something to his brother. Then, he’ll know and most probably interrogate him about it.

Fuck.

Fortunately, nothing of the sort happens. It’s easy to push that thought in the back of his mind, because they leave for the USA, and right before that, the team rings are delivered.

Seonghwa is even more pleased and placated, excited to the point of undulated glee. He chatters Hongjoong’s ear off with praises and giggles, and it fills Hongjoong with so much joy he’s not sure what to do with it.

Still, they don’t go back to kissing or fucking. It’s exactly like before before. Except for the knowing.

They focus on preparing for the show even more intensely and despite the difficulty of an incredibly intense set and not ideal weather conditions, they complete it almost perfectly. 

The high they're all on continues way into the night and there's not a moment when Hongjoong doesn't think about kissing Seonghwa. Even during the live, he catches himself thinking about it. Would Seonghwa allow it, if he invited him to his room? He should be taking the well-deserved rest, they all should, as it’s getting closer to the morning, but he can’t. He takes a shower, a long one, and his imagination runs wild. He wonders if they would ever fuck–go all the way–since all they ever did was fool around. Despite Seonghwa's promise from all those months before. Oh, how much Hongjoong would like that…

It doesn’t take long to wring an orgasm out of himself.

After, he considers actually crawling into his bed with how sore the muscles in his legs are.

In the group chat, some of the members started making plans for upcoming days. But before that, there’s a message he’s overlooked before. It’s a simple thank you, captain with a heart emoji, and likes by almost all of the members. Hongjoong knows they couldn’t have made it this far without hard work from all eight members, but it still makes his heart swell.

He buries his face into the pillow and is out like a light in seconds.

It’s fun to participate in the festival as an audience. Hongjoong feels inspired, and he works on his music after enjoying a couple of performances. He doesn’t expect a knock on his door, especially not this late. The clock on his phone says it’s after eleven. He opens the door cautiously. But it’s only Seonghwa. If Hongjoong can even describe him as only.

“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa says with a solemn expression. “I made Mingi mad. I tried encouraging him like you always do, but I must have said it all wrong.”

It feels natural to put his arms around his friend–to soothe his worries.

“I’m sure he’s not really mad,” he murmurs, close to Seonghwa’s ear. “He knows you do this because you love him.”

“I know,” Seonghwa whines. “But how do you do this, Hongjoong-ah? They don’t get mad at you.”

Hongjoong brings Seonghwa to sit on his bed. Crossing his legs, he stalls with an answer to gather his thoughts.

“I’m their hyung,” he says after a moment.

There’s no better explanation than that. Seonghwa rolls his eyes at him, because he’s their hyung too.

“I’m also their leader, so it’s a little bit different,“ he continues. “I always try to encourage them but without… let’s say, nagging? Oh, and I’m no stranger to begging.”

They both laugh at that.

“I wouldn’t be able to tell,” Seonghwa muses, nudging Hongjoong’s knee with his.

There’s a playfulness in Seonghwa’s tone, as well as in the smile he gives Hongjoong. Any other time, he’d play along and turn to shy flirting. Asked for a kiss, maybe. But since the knowing, Hongjoong keeps on hesitating. He’s deciphering every word and every little gesture. Is Seonghwa giving him signals to take the next step or is he just–being himself. Playful and lovely. And, damn, he is so so lovely.

Even now, with his eyelids puffy over his eyes, with the slightest shadow of hair up his mouth and down his chin. There are some tangles in his hair, the hair spray useless against the desert wind.

Still, Hongjoong wants to entertain Seonghwa a little bit and keep the light atmosphere.

“Let’s sleep first and worry about Mingi tomorrow,” he says, clearing the bed. “Although there’s nothing to be worried about, I’m sure. C’mon, tell me a bedtime story.”

“What?” Seonghwa asks, laughing.

“Just–tell me about your day.”

With a snicker, Seonghwa drags Hongjoong down onto the bed. They try to wriggle themselves under the sheet but they get tangled in them instead.

“Release me,” Hongjoong groans, trying to free his left leg that starts cramping with the unnatural angle it's bent to.

Even when Hongjoong catches Seonghwa in the shin, through his groans, Seonghwa doesn’t stop laughing.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” he gasps out, when Hongjoong grabs the sheets and tightens them around Seonghwa.

When he loosens his fists, Seonghwa almost falls off the bed; he’s been struggling too much against it, and Hongjoong’s action takes him by surprise.

“Maybe we should just sleep,” Hongjoong says, helping put the sheets over them.

He inhales deeply. There’s a faint smell of Seonghwa’s perfume. With wear, it’s sweeter than usual, the heaviness and spice almost completely gone. All Hongjoong can think of is: warmth.

His eyes keep opening up to stare at the ceiling. He considers changing position, but he likes to sleep like this–on his back, hands up on his pillow. It’s not the best for his back, he knows it, but it also means he doesn’t have to either face Seonghwa or turn his back on him completely.

Seonghwa makes the decision for him. He runs his fingers over Hongjoong’s tattoo, scratches lightly over his biceps.

Hongjoong turn his head.

“Hmm?”

But Seonghwa is not looking at him. His face is ducked down, and he can feel his legs shifting next to him.

“Hongjoong-ah,” he whispers.

“What is it?”

Hongjoong shifts, bringing his hand down so he can swipe Seonghwa’s hair away from his face. He can’t stop himself from doing these little gestures that he’s normally so sparse with. Seonghwa seems to enjoy it, or he wouldn't be nuzzling his cheek into Hongjoong’s open palm.

Finally, closing his eyes when Hongjoong swipes his thumb over his cheekbone, Seonghwa continues.

“Instead of a bedtime story… Can I kiss you?”

Hongjoong’s pretty sure when he swallows, it’s audible. He wills his hand not to tremble, when he tilts Seonghwa’s face up so he’d look at him.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one begging?”

“Please.”

It surprises Hongjoong–the lack of desperation in their kiss. He simply catches Seonghwa’s upper lip between his mouth, curling around it ever so slowly, and feels Seonghwa responding with gentle pressure of his own lips.

Hongjoong brings him closer in increments. With his other hand, he guides Seonghwa’s palm onto his chest. He turns his head to the side for the kiss to be easier. First, it’s just with his lips. Then, with his tongue teasing the seam of Seonghwa’s mouth; when he gathers Seonghwa closer, he helps him settle half on top of him.

It reminds him of the very first time they ended up in the same position. Even though kissing Seonghwa has always been very comfortable, somehow, right in this moment, it feels like the most satisfying one so far.

First to break the kiss is Seonghwa, but Hongjoong chases him with little pecks, barely gives him time to take in proper breaths, before he’s squeezing him closer to himself, pressing his mouth to his cheek, chin, jaw, and again diving to lick over his lips.

“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa calls in a broken voice, “Hongjoongie–”

Hongjoong releases him, or rather his mouth only. He noses at Seonghwa’s neck, smelling the faint vanilla where it lingers the most. It feels like if somebody would try to pray Hongjoong away from Seonghwa right now, he’d have a tough nut to crack.

“I-ah!” Seonghwa moans as Hongjoong nips at his neck. “I haven't showered.”

Hongjoong falters. The implication is clear. But actually, Hongjoong haven't intended on going further tonight. Just kissing Seonghwa feels amazing. Like it's almost too much.

“Seonghwa-ya,” Hongjoong says slowly, “we're going to sleep. It’s just–a goodnight kiss.”

Exhaling against Hongjoong, Seonghwa moves his head away. He doesn't respond, and Hongjoong starts to panic. But before he tries to backtrack and trips over his next words, Seonghwa leans his cheek against Hongjoong's shoulder.

“Let's sleep then, Hongjoong-ah. Good night.”

The panic subsides. There's something that still leaves Hongjoong unsettled, though. Even after Seonghwa's breath evens out, it still takes some time for him to fall asleep.

They're back in the same limbo they've been in before. Hongjoong is afraid it can't be as sustainable for him as it was before.

He wants more.

Through the sleep fog that clings to his mind, Hongjoong barely registers his phone is vibrating on the bedside table. Before he can even start to consider reaching for it, it stops.

He scrunches his face, unhappy with his sleep interrupted. 

Just as he fell asleep last night, he’s still on his back. Seonghwa has turned in his sleep, his back now to Hongjoong, but pressed close. It’d be so easy to curl around him… Hongjoong does just that.

Then, the phone goes off again.

Seonghwa doesn’t wake when Hongjoong gets closer, but when he moves away to sit up and answer the phone at last, he turns his head, a frown marring his face.

“Hello?”

“Hyung,” San’s voice greets him. “Where are you?”

“Where am I?” Hongjoong parrots back, confused. “I’m… in my room? In bed?”

“What time is it?” Seonghwa asks, from behind him, his breath hitting the back of his neck.

Hongjoong moves the phone away from his ear to look at the screen. Despite the distance, he catches San’s gasp of realization. 

Perplexed with the whole situation, Hongjoong fidgets.

“It’s nine am, what is it?”

“We’re about to go out,” San whines into the receiver, “did you forget?”

Hongjoong did, indeed, forget.

By the time he wraps up the conversation, Seonghwa is by the door, waving goodbye with a timid smile.

“See you in a bit,” he says, and then he’s gone.

Hongjoong flops down onto the bed.

He’s not one step from a disaster. He’s already in the middle of one.

At the festival, he gets roped into going on the ferris wheel. The shorter the line gets, the more Hongjoong regrets not going to see the performance with Mingi. He just couldn’t really say no. Not to Seonghwa. If it’s been anyone else, Hongjoong would have most probably refused.

When the ferris wheel starts to move, Hongjoong lets out a distressed sound. Then, it fastens, and Hongjoong yelps, covering his eyes.

San laughs at him, and Seonghwa, the traitor, takes a photo. Then, he gets distracted from Hongjoong’s demise by the view.

“Ah, it’s so pretty,” he says excitedly, “Look, Hongjoong-ah!”

With a groan, Hongjoong takes a peek from between his fingers. The sights are incredible, in a way that feels unreal. Scary, too, but mostly unreal. Maybe that’s why it’s not that hard to let his hands fall to his sides. But when he takes a glimpse down, he flinches back, a wave of dizziness washing over him.

“Oh, it’s really high,” he says, surprised.

For somebody being afraid of heights, Seonghwa is faring quite well. He giggles at Hongjoon’s words, eyes moving around as he takes everything in. Well, he’s not glued to the glass, but still. He’s brave and resilient, even in something like this.

Hongjoong spends the rest of the ride looking at Seonghwa instead of the view.

“I’ll leave the two of you alone next time,” San whispers into his ears when they get off and are on their way to find Mingi. “Sorry, hyung.”

Hongjoong wants to scold him, because denying seems to be pointless by now, but he can’t–not in face of the dimples. And it’s not like Hongjoong hasn’t considered it just moments ago.

Would it be a date, if San wasn’t there?

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head at San.

Fortunately, Seonghwa is too far ahead to hear them. Hongjoong wonders what they even assume about him and Seonghwa. He wonders what Seonghwa is thinking about them.

Hongjoong doesn’t suspect that he’s going to learn about it the very same day.

Maybe they should’ve booked one room instead of two separate ones, because in the evening Seonghwa knocks on his door again.

Hongjoong has just showered and isn’t even dressed yet. He almost dismisses the knocking until he hears Seonghwa’s muffled voice through the door.

“Hongjoong-ah, open up.”

With Seonghwa trying not to be too loud, Hongjoong barely catches the words. The voice, though, he’d recognize it anywhere.

He knows it’s a bit risky to open his hotel room doors in the state of undress he’s in, but it’s Seonghwa. There shouldn’t be other people anywhere near. Just to be safe, though, he opens the door and stands behind it, closing it swiftly after Seonghwa slips in.

“Aren’t you going to the dinner with–”

Hongjoong doesn’t have time to finish the question before Seonghwa is kissing him.

There’s nothing laughable about this situation, yet Hongjoong laughs against his insistent mouth.

“Seonghwa-ya,” he says between giggles, “what is it?”

“You promised,” Seonghwa says, yanking the towel from around Hongjoong’s hips without any preamble. “You promised to fuck me, remember?”

It wasn’t exactly a promise. It was Seonghwa’s idea, from what Hongjoong remembers. He barely agreed, back then. Not from the lack of want, though.

It doesn’t really matter at the moment. The very mention of sex makes Hongjoong goes from being relaxed to being horny in a millisecond. He turns them around and pushes Seonghwa onto the bed. For a breath-stealing moment Seonghwa just lays there, with his eyes blown wide and hair a dark halo around his head. The image makes a desire shoot right into Hongjoong's cock–as if he wasn’t already hard. And Seonghwa is still fully clothed, which is unacceptable.

Both of them surge for Seonghwa’s clothes at the same time. Hongjoong is trying to stay calm, because Seonghwa is dressed really prettily. He was supposed to go to dinner with–Wooyoung, maybe? Or Jongho? Hongjoong can’t remember, he’s too busy unzipping Seonghwa’s pants. When he tugs them down a little too harshly, he wonders if it’s Isabel Marant.

Well, if Hongjoong ruins them, he will buy Seonghwa a new pair.

Soon, they're both naked. And it’s a first. Up until now, they were always in a rush, stripping from the waist down at best. Half-dressed, half-undressed, it didn't matter.

It's hard not to savor this opportunity and drink the image up when it’s right in front of him, like a meal on a silver platter.

Seonghwa is beautiful inside and out, and now that Hongjoong has access to all of his outside, he looks and looks, and when Seonghwa makes a distressed noise, he touches too. There's something about his hips and waist, the line of his body so beautiful Hongjoog would like to paint it–if he had the talent. He could try, maybe halfway succeed, but Seonghwa deserves more than that.

On a whim, Hongjoong drags his tongue across the flat plane of Seonghwa's stomach. He tries to kiss him over the faint curves of his abs. Going up, he tugs on a nipple with his teeth, then with his mouth.

Throughout all of it, Seonghwa's hands don't stop moving. He touches Hongjoong's shoulders, tangles fingers in his hair, squeezes on his other nipple while Hongjoong sucks on the other one. It's so fucking hot.

When they kiss, pressed together from head to toe, it's messy. They lick each other's lips, curl their tongues together, and bite.

They're both hard, but Hongjoong doesn't do anything about it yet. It's Seonghwa who pushes his hips up. They gasp into each other's mouths.

Hongjoong moves his hands over Seonghwa's arms, over the taut muscles, up until he has his hands wrapped around Seonghwa's wrists. He pins them down to the bed.

He slows down the kiss. If they're going to fuck, he wants to savour it.

When Seonghwa tries to break free from his hold, Hongjoong tuts at him. It makes Seonghwa whine.

“Hongjoong-ah,” he says, trying to dislodge Hongjoong's hands again.

“What do you want?”

Seonghwa spreads his legs, their cocks sliding even more intimately together.

“I told you,” he replies in a soft voice. Then, more firmly, “I want you to fuck me.”

It distracts Hongjoong enough for Seonghwa to finally slip his hands free. He huffs, triumphantly, and squeezes Hongjoong’s ass. Hard. It makes Hongjoong buck against him, not once but two times in a row. And then Hongjoong does it again, on purpose. He does it slower this time.

It already feels like they’re fucking.

“My bag,” Seonghwa says, panting against Hongjoong's ear. “There’s–in the bag.”

Hongjoong hasn’t even noticed there is a bag. He rolls off the bed, and there it is–right by the door. Seonghwa must have dropped it the second he threw himself at Hongjoong.

“So you came prepared,” Hongjoong laughs, throwing everything he finds inside on the bed.

There’s not one condom but a whole packet. And two different tubes of lube.

When Hongjoong fumbles with the first condom he picks up, almost ripping it apart, Seonghwa snatches it and throws it away. He takes a new one and puts it on Hongjoong himself, unbelievably focused. 

Throwing a probably teared condom on the floor is no problem, but when Hongjoong pushes the lube off the bed, they hear the sound–a wet squelch–that can be nothing else but the substance escaping the tube. 

This is not exactly how Hongjoong pictured the whole thing to go.

He decides to ignore it. Seonghwa is still looking to the side, concerned, as if he’s ready to really check the damage and start cleaning if it's bad enough, and Hongjoong can't have that. Not when the lube on his hand is slowly dripping down his wrist. 

He prompts Seonghwa to bend his knees, prop them up. The closer he gets, the more Seonghwa has to open his legs up. His focus is fully on Hongjoong again.

Hongjoong pushes one finger between the cheeks, sliding it up and down, without catching on the rim just yet. Naturally, the rest of his fingers curl around Seonghwa's cheek, and the thumb rests right under the balls, on the perineum. He puts pressure there first.

The moan is so loud, Hongjoong snaps his head up, almost missing how Seonghwa's cock dribbles onto his stomach.

Hongjoong’s surprise renders him unmovable and it's Seonghwa who lifts his hips, keeps the movement going. The way his body sways against Hongjoong's hand is hypnotizing. But it also reminds Hongjoong of how hard he is and how much he wants to be inside already. Licking his lips, he takes the next step and turns his hand around. He pushes one finger inside.

There’s resistance, but not in the way Hongjoong expected. Because, still, it goes just right in. Seonghwa is struggling against it, but not because he tries to escape the intrusion. On the contrary–he plays along, pushes against the finger until Hongjoong is knuckles deep.

“C’mon, Hongjoong-ah,” he breathes, his hips not stopping. “Go on.”

Hongjoong has no other option but to obey.

When he pushes another finger in, it takes both of them by surprise. Hongjoong is overwhelmed by how tight it feels. For Seonghwa, judging by the sounds he’s making, it’s a lot too. He keens so high Hongjoong wonders if he’s maybe uncomfortable. Or worse, in pain. But when he stalls, Seonghwa whines in frustration.

With the next thrust, Hongjoong makes a point and goes harder. Seonghwa’s fingers clutch the sheets, making them go undone around the bed.

Hongjoong leans over him, to take every detail of his face, as he starts going for it in earnest.

The look Seonghwa gives him, if Hongjoong was fucking him with his cock, would probably undo him.

“How do you–want it,” Hongjoong asks with a haggard breath, and before he can stop himself, “Seonghwa-ya, baby–”

They kiss and it’s almost frantic. Seonghwa moves his hands from gripping the sheets to gripping Hongjoong’s hair. It’s painful in a sort of satisfying way, and Hongjoong whimpers right into Seonghwa’s mouth. It’s so wet it feels like it’s gravity that pulls some of the spit off Hongjoong’s tongue into Seonghwa’s mouth.

It’s filthy but so hot when Seonghwa moans and sucks on his tongue like he’d suck his cock.

It only reminds Hongjoong again about how hard he is, and he hisses when he touches his cock, the kiss breaking. He can only squeeze himself, because it feels too dry with the condom on but no lube.

That’s when Seonghwa pushes him away. But there’s not enough time to ask what’s wrong, because nothing seems to be wrong–Seonghwa just turns around, with his legs tucked underneath himself, and it’s better than any wet dream Hongjoong has ever had.

Reinserting his fingers, Hongjoong looks for the other tube of lube. He curses, because he can’t see it anywhere. It must have fallen off the bed too.

There’s no other way but to turn away from Seonghwa’s body, which is plenty difficult, and dive down to find one of the lube bottles.

Hongjoong’s fingers find the spilled content first, and only after the opened bottle. So it’s the same they’ve already used, which is actually better. Hongjoong didn’t even take notice of what kind the other one was.

“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa calls, still adjusting himself on the bed. “Hongjoongie, hurry up.” When he feels what fills him up are Hongjoong’s fingers once more, he groans. “Fuck me already, please, Hongjoong–”

A moan breaks his mumbling, because at last Hongjoong finds his prostate. He tries multitasking: fingering Seonghwa with purpose and getting his cock wet enough to replace the fingers with it.

Finally, it’s happening.

When he presses the head of his cock against the rim, he’s careful, and uses too little pressure. He slips out, his cock sliding between Seonghwa’s cheeks.

The visuals are hot too. The feeling–not worse. Not worse at all.

But it’s obvious it’s not what both of them want. Seonghwa manages to reach his hand behind himself, tapping Hongjoong’s hip insistently.

This time, Hongjoong pushes through. This time, Seonghwa does try to move away from it, but also tries to fight it with bit-off whines.

Hongjoong barely keeps it together when he bottoms out. His tights are shaking, but he can’t lean on Seonghwa and count on him to keep both of them upright. He adjusts his legs and tries a couple of shallow thrusts.

“Please,” Seonghwa moans brokenly, bucking back. “Please, fuck me.”

Another thrusts almost make them tumble onto the bed, so Hongjoong sits down, bringing Seonghwa down with him. Now, sitting in his lap, Seonghwa props himself up better but it’s harder to properly fuck in this position. For Hongjoong, that is, because Seonghwa is doing a pretty good job of fucking himself on Hongjoong’s cock. Still, it’s more grinding than thrusting, and soon Hongjoong’s legs start cramping.

He pulls out, despite Seonghwa’s protests.

“Lay down,” he instructs, palming Seonghwa’s hips to guide him. “C’mon.”

Seonghwa straightens on the bed, his legs opening up, but Hongjoong has another plan. He puts them together, sits on Seonghwa’s thighs and nudges his cock back inside.

Then, it’s a matter of minutes before Hongjoong’s nearing his climax. Seonghwa is tight, and his asscheeks are snug around his cock every time he pushes up.

But Seonghwa isn’t there yet. He’s moaning on every downstroke, but Hongjoong won’t be able to go for much longer, and he wants Seonghwa to be the first one to come.

He moves down, pushing his hands under Seonghwa’s arms that are gripping the pillow he had his face burrowed in. Seonghwa finds them with his mouth. He licks over Hongjoong’s fingers, struggling to suck the thumb between his lips. He’s driving his hips against the bed, seeking friction there.

“I can’t–Seonghwa-ya–” Hongjoong slurs against Seonghwa’s back, sucking on his shoulder blade. He shouldn’t be doing it, and stops himself before he can do too much damage. “Seong–baby, ah, fuck.”

Seonghwa only sucks on his thumb harder with muffled whimpers.

With the last coherent thought, Hongjoong decides on the last adjustment. He pulls out, almost coming from the obscene sound of it alone. He flips Seonghwa over, which proves to be difficult with the little cooperation he gets from him. He’s like a ragdoll, letting himself be handled however Hongjoong pleases.

It goes both to Hongjoong’s head and cock.

He hooks Seonghwa’s legs around his hips and goes right in, hard and deep.

“Ah, Hongjoongie, please, I’m–” he pleads, reaching up for him. “Shit, you feel so good, I–I’m–”

They reconnect their lips, mostly panting against each other.

“Are you–” Hongjoong gasps, his hips stuttering. “Are you close?”

He himself is almost there.

“Yes, yeah, I just–”

Seonghwa moans, his hole tightening, but it’s not the end yet.

“Touch yourself,” Hongjoong whispers against his lips.

It’s a tight fit, but Seonghwa wrestles his hand between their stomachs, and the next moment he’s coming with his head thrown back. His eyes roll back far, tongue almost lolling out. It’s a better picture than any porn Hongjoong has ever watched. But it’s not that hard–not when Seonghwa is so beautiful and Hongjoong is very much in love with him.

Hongjoong’s vision goes blurry, the prickling under his eyelids making him close them and try to focus on seeking climax before Seonghwa gets too sensitive. If he does, then Hongjoong could–

The mere thought of pulling out, rolling the condom off and spilling his release on him is what makes Hongjoong come undone.

Seonghwa must be too tender by that point, hoarse little gasps coming past his reddened lips. But he says nothing, letting Hongjoong take whatever he wants.

Hongjoong can’t feel his legs, and he lets himself relax on top of Seonghwa, bucking against him the last time as the last tremble rolls down his body.

“I can’t believe we haven’t done it before,” Hongjoong mumbles, pecking Seonghwa on his breast bone. “It was–”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa says, laughing a little. “Let’s–Let’s clean up, Hongjoong-ah.”

When they pull away, fighting to get their limbs to cooperate, Seonghwa doesn’t look at Hongjoong. There’s something in the air. The atmosphere is getting tense, and Hongjoong’s heart kicks up to an anxious scattaco.

He licks his lips, opens them up, but his throat feels clogged.

“S-Seonghwa-ya, did you–”

“Mm,” he hums an assent, his back to Hongjoong.

He doesn’t even know what the question was, Hongjoong thinks as he pulls the condom off. He doesn’t–

Hongjoong gets up and goes to the bathroom to fetch a towel on shaky legs. His heart is threatening to beat out of his chest. He doesn’t know where to go from here.

When he comes back, Seonghwa hasn’t moved from his spot on the bed. He has his head down, one leg up on the bed. Despite the urge to run, Hongjoong swallows down his worst impulse and sits beside him.

He keeps his distance though.

“Seonghwa-ya,” he says with caution. “Hey, are you–”

“Why did you kiss me last night?”

Hongjoong’s stomach clenches. There are plenty of possible answers, yet there’s only one that would explain everything. But it would also reveal his heart, and Hongjoong isn’t sure if Seonghwa is ready for it. He’s not ready for it.

It’s even more nerve-wracking because they're just sitting on the bed, naked. 

Hongjoong curls his fingers in his lap and even before he opens his mouth, he knows it's not a good answer.

“Because you asked?”

It is not, indeed, a good answer, because Seonghwa lets out an unhumorous laugh.

“If somebody else asked, would you kiss them too?”

“N-no,” Hongjoong stutters, “I don't think I would–”

“What if they asked to fuck?” Seonghwa asks, unrelenting.

“No! Seonghwa–”

At last, he turns to look at Hongjoong; he has such a sad expression on, Hongjoong wants to hold him. But he’s rooted in his seat like a spell was put upon him.

“What does it mean, then, Hongjoong-ah?” Seonghwa asks. He turns his whole body towards him. He reaches his hand to Hongjoong, but settles it on the bed, right beside Hongjoong's thigh. “Tell me, please.”

Even though his heart is settled, the answer anchored deep inside of it, heavy with its finality, Hongjoong’s thoughts are all in tangles.

One thing, though, is what comes to the surface now. It’s not the secret third thing that he’s been feeling towards Seonghwa. It’s the other two between which he couldn’t decide before: Seonghwa is his best friend and he also is the person he's in love with. They don't have to cancel each other out–both can be true. And they are very true. Ideal, even. That's what Wooyoung once told him and, to Hongjoong dismay, he often is right. This time, for sure.

It's taking too long for Hongjoong to find an answer.

Shaking his head, Seonghwa slips off the bed.

“Fuck, I really thought–” he says, that hollow laugh once again bubbling out of him. “I get it. I’ll just–” he starts moving around, wipes himself off with the towel hastily and picks up his clothes. “I’ll get out of your hair, you’re probably tired, sorry, I–”

“You went on a date!”

It’s the most ridiculous thing to say, and bet on Hongjoong doing just that. But it’s still a valid statement. They’ve been hooking up for all those months and Seonghwa went out with somebody. It means no strings attached, right? It means no feelings attached, too, doesn’t it? It’s what Hongjoong thought was being suggested by Seonghwa going on a date.

Angry now, Seonghwa throws the clothes onto the floor.

If he ruins his designer clothes, I'll buy him new ones, Hongjoong thinks again, and he wants to smack himself for getting distracted.

“You never said anything!” Seonghwa shouts, clenching his hands into fists. “Not even that first time when you thought… What was I supposed to think, Hongjoong-ah?”

“What was I supposed to think, then? Because to me, it seemed that it was just–”

Hongjoong can't finish that thought. It stings, more than when it was just in his head.

Seonghwa deflates. Then, like an afterthought, he remembers they’re still naked and there are still remnants of lube and other fluids on his skin.

“We should clean up first. I can’t…” he waves his hands with a grimace. “Can I go first?”

“Of course.”

Hongjoong wonders if they would be showering together if the conversation has never happened. Would they make out under the water stream? Hongjoong closes his eyes, distraught.

The whole time Seonghwa showers, Hongjoong spends in a daze, ten thousand scenarios going through his head about what happens next.

After Seonghwa is done, Hongjoong all but dashes inside, without looking at the other.

When the water is hitting him right in the face, he remembers he didn't even strip the bed. He left the ruined sheets just as they were, the towel Seonghwa used laying in the middle of the floor. What if he thinks Hongjoong left it for him to deal with? It’s Hongjoong’s hotel room, not his, but if they’re going to talk more…

Somehow that's what makes Hongjoong finally tear up. One second he’s washing shampoo out of his hair and the next he's stifling a sob against his fist. The dam just breaks, the overwhelming amount of feelings just too much for him to sort through and comprehend.

The door to the bathroom opens.

“Sorry, I left my–Hongjoong-ah?”

As if something worse could happen to him.

Hongjoong opens his mouth to deny but it’s another sob that comes through instead of words.

“Go!” he shouts over the running water. “Please.”

Even though Seonghwa just showered, he steps in and turns the water off. Then, Hongjoong is being wrapped in a towel and walked outside the cabin. He slips only once on the wet tiles, but Seonghwa holds him the whole time. Mostly dried off, he’s sat on the bed. Of course Seonghwa has taken the top sheet off. The bed is made.

It brings a fresh set of tears he still cannot simply swallow down.

“Hongjoong-ah, what is it?”

Everything, Hongjoong thinks, you.

“I've been stupid, Seonghwa-ya,” he says in a broken voice. “I’m really sorry.”

Seonghwa takes his hand in his, slowly, as if he's trying not to spook Hongjoong.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks when he closes his other hand around Hongjoong's fingers.

“Just–all of it.”

Seonghwa sighs.

“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa squeezes his fingers, “Hongjoongie, I’m going to tell you something. You know how I cried reading your birthday message, right?”

Hongjoong presses his lips together. It’s embarrassing to address his own words, because it's still hard for him to open up completely. And it's easier to write something than to say it out loud.

Slowly, he nods his head.

“I cried because not only those words mean so much to me, and I really needed them, but–I thought that you've finally wanted to acknowledge us.”

Hongjoong takes a glance and Seonghwa’s ears are pink. Now he can't look away. 

“I mean, I thought you already started… you've been more indulgent with me for a while now,“ Seonghwa smiles and his lips tremble. Hongjoong turns his hand to be the one squeezing  Seonghwa's fingers now. “You know… I become hopeful.”

When Seonghwa looks up, Hongjoong has to fight the urge to turn away. He blinks, holding onto Seonghwa’s hands tight.

“You thought right, Seonghwa-ya,” he says, feeling another tear sliding down his cheek. “You're right.”

“Why are you crying again, silly?”

“I’m not!” Hongjoong protests, wiping at his cheek. “You're the silly one. You shouldn't have gone on that date–Park Seonghwa pabo.”

Seonghwa tugs on his hand. Hongjoong tugs back, thinking Seonghwa is just playing with him, but he pulls at him more insistently and the next thing Hongjoong knows he’s being hugged.

“You know you once said that calling somebody pabo could replace the word for love,” he muses, whispering the words into his ear. “And you've been calling me that for years.”

“Seonghwa-ya, I–”

“I've loved you for the longest time, Kim Hongjoong.”

It’s Hongjoong's time to hold him tighter. He scoots on the bed, sitting so close he’s almost in Seonghwa's lap.

“Pabo-ya,” he murmurs against Seonghwa’s hair, kissing the side of his head with reverence when he hears him sniffle. “I’m–It’s how I feel.”

Hongjoong knows they're going to kiss before any of them move. And when they do, cheeks sliding against each other, their noses touching, lips a breath away, somebody knocks on the door.

Seonghwa moves away with a groan, visibly disappointed. Hongjoong can't stop himself from giggling.

“Great timing,” he laughs, standing up to find some pants in his suitcase. “Did we miss some schedule?”

“Ah.” Seonghwa curls on the bed. “It must be Yunho.”

“Yunho? Here?”

Seonghwa gives him a sheepish look.

“When you were in the shower, I called him to come pick me up in twenty minutes. I was sure that you–that we–”

“And you called Yunho?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa says. “He’s the one not to ask questions.”

Hongjoong gives him a look.

“Not to ask them yet.”

Seonghwa rolls over when there's another knock. Then his phone goes off somewhere from within his bag and he puts the pillow over his head.

Hongjoong, in turn, puts a hoodie on, and moves to answer the door at least.

“Yunho-ya,” he greets him, smiling.

Yunho looks a bit flustered, as if he didn’t expect Hongjoong there. In his own hotel room.

“Um, Seonghwa-hyung has told me to pick him up?”

Hongjoong leans on the door.

“Seonghwa-ya,” he calls, turning his head. “Do you want to be picked up?”

At least three different emotions appear on Yunho's face consecutively.

“Uhh,” Seonghwa groans. “Yunho-ya, I’m really sorry! Hyung has miscalculated everything.”

It takes a moment, but Yunho's face brightens, as if he received a sudden blessing.

“No problem, hyung!” he says with the biggest smile. “Have fun!”

And with that, he dashes away. When Hongjoong takes a peek out the door, he can see Yunho typing on his phone.

“I think we're busted,” Hongjoong says, leaning on the now closed door.

Seonghwa doesn't respond. He’s looking at Hongjoong like–like he's looked at Hongjoong so many times before. The previous words have flown over his head, but now it slowly comes back to him.

He’s been loved by Seonghwa all this time.

This time, when they kiss, it's sweet. They just share the same air, small touches, and don't say anything for a long time.

“I love your hair,” Seonghwa mumbles sometime later, when they're just laying with their legs tangled together. “It takes me back to when it was, you know, that bright strawberry color.”

It's been some years since then.

Hongjoong whines a little, because does that mean that Seonghwa–

“Did you–even then?” he asks, curiosity winning over embarrassment.

A hand on his cheek guides him up, prompting him to open his eyes.

“Even then,” Seonghwa says, and then, “thank you, Hongjoong-ah.”

Hongjoong lets out a distressed breath.

“What for?”

Seonghwa's eyes are so round and pretty when he searches his face, his smile growing wider and wider.

“Just because,” he says, his smile lines deepening and nose scrunching. “Because you're here.”

It's a lot to take in. Seonghwa just says these things that make Hongjoong’s heart thump and his face flush. He turns his head to kiss  Seonghwa's wrist. He ends up biting at the tender skin there, making Seonghwa fake-grumble.

“I’m happy to be here,” he mumbles, hiding his face in Seonghwa's neck. “With you,” he adds, kissing Seonghwa there too.

It doesn't come easy for Hongjoong to say these things, but for Seonghwa he’s willing to try. He needs to know how much Hongjoong loves him. He breathes him in, content, and thinks about kissing him again, and again, forever, when a phone buzzes. It keeps buzzing, but it's not a call. It must be kakaotalk.

“Are you going to check it?” Hongjoong asks, because his own phone has been put on silent for hours now.

“Must I?” Seonghwa laments but despite his unwillingness he moves to grab the device.

Then, he gasps.

“This little–” he hisses, fingers flying on the little keyboard on screen.

Hongjoong, too worn out to move and take a look, taps on Seonghwa's thigh.

“What is it?”

“You mean who, and it's Wooyoung,” Seonghwa says, lips pursed in an unhappy grimace. “I swear, he’s a terrible child.”

“He's your favorite child,” Hongjoong teases.

“That's Yeosang,” Seonghwa replies without a stutter.

Hongjoong laughs, finally seating up.

“What did that troublemaker do this time,” he asks.

Seonghwa bites his lip. And then, slowly, he gets really red–both his face and ears, and he turns the screen off.

“Oh, c'mon,” Hongjoong laughs. “Do I need to reprimand him?”

“I don't think you’d like to… step into this one.”

With an exasperated huff, Hongjoong reaches his arm with his palm up. He wriggles his fingers when he sees Seonghwa still hesitating.

Finally, Seonghwa surrenders. He unlocks the phone and gives it to Hongjoong, with the chat pulled up.

He doesn't read Seonghwa's string of replies, even though they're the last ones visible. He scrolls up, and then he sees it: one emoji, the one of an eggplant.

Seonghwa is hiding his face behind his hands so he doesn't see what Hongjoong does next, which is to dial Wooyoung's number, right from Seonghwa's phone.

Then, it's too late, because Wooyoung picks up, and the cackle is so loud Seonghwa hears it and looks up in panic. Hongjoong doesn't remember when was the last time he saw this kind of expression on Seonghwa's face. The pure horror, the wide eyes, slack jaw and a choked-off squeak–it’s such an overreaction it’s comical.

Hongjoong grins, the mortification turning into glee so fast he surprises himself. He rubs Seonghwa's arm, and his smile turns into a smirk.

“Jung Wooyoung, do you want to die?”

He's skipped the rest of the conversation in the chat, so he doesn't know yet that he might be the one dying soon–dying of mortification. Wooyoung has just spilled their little secret to Seonghwa and now he knows Hongjoong has almost propositioned Wooyoung last year.

He's never living it down.