Chapter Text
They were in that tentative stage between floating ideas and full-blown album preparation, meaning that there were no official plans for a release but that didn’t stop them from being holed up in their studios. Their last album dropped months ago and festival season was slowing; getting ahead now was the most efficient option before the next wave of schedules overwhelmed them. They could’ve taken a break but you would have to drag Giuk tooth and nail out of his studio just to see the sunlight.
Hyungu used to have no time to read. The more books he received from fans, the more desperate he was to disappear into a corner with a huge stack of them. The lapse in schedules meant he could finally start again. Considering how fast he read, he could get through a considerable portion of the stack before official comeback preparation came.
The weight of a book in his hands brought more comfort than he would admit. Sunken into the couch with the remnants of his late dinner still on the coffee table, he felt at ease. Dongmyeong was already sleeping, Giuk and Yonghoon were still in their studio, Harin was at the gym—there was absolutely no noise in the dorm besides the rustling of pages.
Or there used to be.
The tick of the front door unlocking rang through the living room and he looked up to see who would be walking through. The breath hitched in his chest when a familiar mop of dark hair appeared.
Yonghoon stuck his head into the room and carefully scanned it. Strands of hair stuck up on the top of his head, probably from his headphones in his hands. “Dongmyeong? Oh, you’re not Dongmyeong. You’re home already?”
“Well, don’t sound too disappointed,” Hyungu said, voice rough from disuse. “He’s asleep.”
Yonghoon lowered his voice. “You’re back early, it’s only like 1:30 in the morning. I thought you were still at the company.” He entered the dorm completely and kicked off his sneakers, opting for a pair of pink house slippers.
“I could say the same for you. I thought I would have more peaceful time to read.”
“I’ll try not to bother you to the best of my ability,” Yonghoon mused, the sarcasm clear in his tone. He headed down the hall and into their shared room, out of sight and out of mind (mostly).
Hyungu went back to his book but now he was so much more aware of the other presence in the dorm. Words swam across his mind but he still heard the slam of drawers and rustling of movement from the other room. He shook his head and focused on the words on the page. At least Yonghoon trying to be conscious of their sleeping bandmate meant that the noise would be kept to a minimum.
The book had been gifted to him by one of his fansites. The note that came with the book went something along the lines of “I think you would like this because the author shares the same sentiments as you.” Based on the blurb alone, he could tell that the fansite was completely right and wondered if he was sharing too much on Fromm.
He let himself fall completely into the book and before he knew it, he was already halfway through it and Yonghoon’s light steps were pattering behind him.
“What are you reading?” Yonghoon asked, putting his hands by Hyungu’s shoulders on the back of the couch and leaning against them.
“A book about fate versus choice. It’s pretty interesting but I’m starting to think I need to be a lot more awake to read it.” Hyungu could smell the scent of their shared body wash and felt drops of water fall onto his head. “Back off before you get water on it. Why didn’t you dry your hair properly?”
The smell of body wash became distant then the sound of cups clattering came from the kitchen. “I was gonna get water but got distracted. Plus, I feel like we haven’t talked all day.”
“Didn’t we talk the entire way to the company?”
Suddenly, Yonghoon placed a cup of water on the table in front of him and took his usual spot on the couch: right against Hyungu. “Yeah and then we didn’t speak for the rest of the day.”
Hyungu scooted away. “Your hair still isn’t dry! You literally have a towel on your shoulder. Do something about it.”
Yonghoon playfully glared at him as he dried his hair but he didn’t say anything. There was never any real malice behind the looks he sent in Hyungu’s direction and both of them were aware of it. Maybe too aware of it. Too aware that the underlying feelings of the looks between them were anything but malicious.
But when the fake glare softened just a bit, Hyungu looked back down at the book in his lap. The words swam the same way they did earlier but now it felt impossible to try to read again—the damp warmth of Yonghoon pressed against him consumed him.
He made the mistake of glancing up at Yonghoon’s face and the glare was completely gone, replaced with something so fond that it scared him. How could he look at me like that when he knows what it does to me?
Perhaps it was the post-shower flush that spread across his face or his bare skin that boasted freckles like stars. He wanted nothing more than to run his fingers across Yonghoon’s face and connect all the possible constellations. The patterns in his freckles taunted him because how could they be in his proximity all the time and so out of reach?
How could he explain the urge to feel every freckle without sounding like a crazed maniac? You can’t just ask your bandmate if you can sit them down and trace patterns onto their skin until they’ve memorized the way your fingertips feel grazing across their face.
But he was broken out of his gaze when Yonghoon dropped the towel to his lap, his hair mostly dry and all over the place. “I’m bored. Can you tell me about the book?”
Hyungu cleared his throat, trying to get control of his thoughts again. “Uh, it’s about what it would mean if fate was real and how that would affect choice. Like, if you believe fate determines every decision we’ve ever made, does that mean we’ve never made a choice for ourselves?”
“Huh. I think I’ve made choices for myself.” At this point, Yonghoon turned to face him, folding his legs in front of him. “I’m in control of my own life, not some magical force of nature.”
“How do you know that that thought wasn’t predetermined either?”
“I don’t but that’s what I want to believe. I want to believe that everything I’ve done is a result of my own actions.”
Hyungu laughed. “That’s a little egocentric, isn’t it?”
“No? Well, yes, sort of but not in that way!” Yonghoon said. “I am technically the center of my own universe and the only experience I know to be true is my own.”
“You’re doubling down on the egocentrism.”
Yonghoon’s opened and then closed shut with a comically loud clack. “What do you think then, huh?”
What do I think?
Everyone knew him as a believer in fate; it must’ve been obvious enough if his fansites were sending him books about it. He has written countless songs—released and unreleased—about it because that question has lingered in his mind for years. He wanted fate to be real so desperately, like the stars had a plan for him. In some way, it was a continuation of his obsession with space but it was also comforting. It reassured him to think that whatever choices he made in the past were the best possible choices at the time.
The idea of fate protected him from regret. If he regretted anything, he wasn’t regretting the choices he made but what the stars planned for him. But he also didn’t like thinking that he was completely helpless in the hands of fate. If the stars wanted something tragic for him, then what?
“I don’t think my beliefs are as extreme as believing fate controls everything about me, but I do think that there are just some things that I’m destined for,” he mused.
Like falling in love with you. I am destined to fall in love with you regardless of the choices I make.
“Like becoming a part of ONEWE?” Yonghoon asked.
Oh, that too.
“Yes, exactly that.”
Yonghoon paused like he needed to collect his thoughts. “I don’t think I believe in fate in the same way you do but I like the idea of you being destined to meet me.”
Hyungu rolled his eyes. “Don’t forget the others.”
“Of course, but everything is about me, remember?”
“Sure, hyung.”
Love was such a finicky topic that none of them had a firm grasp on. The public eye didn’t exactly cultivate the best environment for it and every attempt from any of them didn’t last long. In terms of lyrics, Giuk probably got the closest but all of them have written love songs before. It wasn’t hard: they’ve all yearned before. They’ve all been in love before, romantic and platonic.
But coincidentally, none of the demos they pooled together for the new album were about love. Not that there needed to be but it was just odd; there were usually a few, depicting all kinds and different stages of love.
So, Hyungu decided to do something about it because he can. Writing lyrics with the intention of the song appearing in their very real next album was different than putting together compositions just to get them out of his head before he forgets them. Music flowed through his blood and exhaled out of him with every breath but the pressure of a set deadline hung over his head.
Gryffindor sat in his lap, the weight familiar against him and he could still hear the ticking of the metronome from a few minutes ago bouncing around his head—the melody he played was slow, sweet, and almost hauntingly empty.
He messed around with the chords with the intention of turning it into a love song and hated the way his mind immediately went to Yonghoon, to the way he would’ve started grinning ear to ear when he found out he was the inspiration behind another one of Hyungu’s songs.
“Everything is about me, remember?”
Eventually, he would have to face the “more than friends but less than lovers” nature that both of them had been ignoring for months. The push-pull couldn't go forever; how many almost-confessions did he sense from Yonghoon and consequently avoid? How many times did Yonghoon do the same?
But they both knew there was too much at risk and that was exactly why nothing happened. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why they never went farther than flirty glances and physical affection that fans could pass off as fan service. Even without the prying eyes of the public, they risked the entire group’s dynamic. And maybe they were fine with the way things were. If Hyungu could be in love for years, knowing it was reciprocated would be fine—not being able to do anything about it would be fine too. It was just like when he didn’t know it was reciprocated and couldn’t act on anything. Everything would be fine.
Enough of that.
He hummed the melody as he opened the Notepad application on his computer, ready to jot down anything that came to mind. If he heard the melody enough times, lyrics would eventually flow through him and onto the empty document. Writing about someone he loved couldn’t be that hard.
It proved to be the opposite—nothing was good enough. The past thirty minutes only resulted in a couple of meager lines that he couldn’t confidently present to the others. The next couple of hours would’ve gone the same way if there hadn’t been a knock at his studio door.
“Come in,” he called out, not bothering to turn around.
The door clicked open. “Hyungu-ah, do you mind if I just sit here while I work?”
His stupid heart fluttered a little bit when he registered whose voice it was. “Go ahead, Yonghoon-ssi.”
Yonghoon laughed. “Aw, that was tame. I always look forward to the ridiculous honorifics you call me.”
An attempt to slump into his chair was interrupted by the guitar digging into his chest. “I’m too tired to think of anything creative right now.”
Then it was silent again aside from the rustling of Yonghoon trying to get comfortable on the floor and the sounds of Hyungu typing, followed by the rapid tapping of the delete key.
Writing about his feelings for the person sitting right behind him made him feel self-conscious, like Yonghoon would be peaking over his shoulder at any moment. There was no way he wouldn’t notice if it did happen but still, writing about someone in the same room felt invasive and suddenly words were harder than before.
Explaining his feelings wasn’t the hard part either. He knew exactly how he felt. He was in love with his friend of eleven years and he knew that friend loved him back. The aforementioned friend didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to. Hyungu could see it in his eyes. He could see the way Yonghoon looked at him when he thought he wasn’t looking. There were other ways to tell but nothing said more than the way his eyes followed Hyungu. When their eyes met, Yonghoon was already looking.
One of the first times Hyungu caught him staring with more than platonic intent (the eyes gave it away), he called him out on it. Jokingly, of course. That was one of the only times he’d ever seen Yonghoon speechless. It seemed like he didn’t even know he was staring. He snapped out of it quickly but Hyungu still saw the way he faltered.
The reciprocation was undeniable. It had to be or else all the “undeniable” signs Hyungu saw were just a way for his brain to cope with loving someone for so long and not being able to do anything about it. But that didn’t explain everything Yonghoon did of his own free will.
“Hyungu, you believe in fate, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said. He turned his chair around and looked down at Yonghoon sitting on the floor, legs crossed and a notebook in his lap. “Didn’t we talk about this like a month ago?”
“Great, I need help writing a song.”
“About fate?” Hyungu put Gyffindor to the side, being careful to not place it down too hard. “I thought you didn’t believe in it.”
Yonghoon shrugged. “I don’t but we didn’t have a demo about love in the pool and I think it would be a good challenge.”
Hyungu couldn’t stop the slight look of surprise on his face. “Wow, hyung. I thought you would’ve defaulted to one of your soul-destroying ballads.”
Yonghoon frantically scanned his surroundings, presumably for something to throw but gave up and threw his notebook at Hyungu’s legs. “I have range! It’s just that there are only so many ballads about love we can release before people get tired of it!”
“I’m just joking! I know you have range,” Hyungu said. “And don’t throw stuff at me in my studio. Do you want help or not?”
The glare Yonghoon sent at him felt a little more real than the one he had the last time they talked about fate. “What do I even ask you?” He stared at Hyungu, who was more than happy to stare back. “Uh, do you think fate and love are related?”
When he asked Hyungu if he believed in fate a month ago, he answered with ease but his studio was infinitely more intimate than their living room—now he couldn’t get the words right. Not because he didn’t know the answer but because he didn’t know if he actually wanted to admit it. It felt too real in his little studio which made it feel like they were the only people in the world.
It would also reveal how he thought about love to the person he was in love with and it doesn’t help that that person knows how he feels. The first part was embarrassing enough.
But he truly thought he was fated to love Yonghoon. How could he not? All he had to do was look at Yonghoon. The freckles across Yonghoon’s face that he adored so much looked like a map of the stars that led Hyungu to him. If he memorized the placement of every freckle and mole on Yonghoon’s face, he could find him in every lifetime.
That’s so embarrassingly cheesy, shut up before—
He didn’t realize he was staring directly at Yonghoon until he waved his hand in Hyungu’s line of sight to get his attention. “Hyungu-ah?”
He cleared his throat and broke eye contact before he lost his mind. “Right, sorry. I’ve been awake for twenty-eight hours,” he muttered. He saw Yonghoon open his mouth to tell him off but waved him away. “Um, I think fate decides the big things in our lives and love probably falls under that category. Like what if there is someone that the universe made for you exactly and you are made for them in the same way?”
“Isn’t that just soulmates?” Yonghoon asked, eyebrows furrowed as he was probably thinking too hard about it.
“If that’s how you want to word it. What you call it doesn’t matter.”
“So you believe in soulmates?”
“I guess.”
Yonghoon wrinkled his nose but reached across the floor to pick up the notebook he had thrown. Hyungu watched with great curiosity as he started writing things down. “I don’t know, Hyungu-ah. I don’t think I like the idea of something else dictating my life for me. Like sure, maybe I spill a coffee and there’s nothing I can do about it but deciding who I love? That’s kinda weird. Not that I’m judging you or anything.”
“But wouldn’t it be less stressful if you let the universe handle everything?” Hyungu asked. He watched Yonghoon’s expression as he jotted notes down, mesmerized by the way the shadows fell across his face.
Yonghoon stopped writing and looked up from his notebook. “Less stressful? What do you mean?”
The moment their eyes met, Hyungu felt every nerve in his body light on fire and suddenly he was reminded of exactly why he said “less stressful.” Sure, he could write about love and explain the meaning behind his songs for interviews but to be in love was an entirely different beast.
He wasn’t good at being in love. Just looking at Yonghoon was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Love was stressful. When he realized Yonghoon liked him back, that should’ve been the end of it. That was the end for so many other people but not for him. Instead, they stood in a weird limbo where they loved each other but couldn’t love each other. Not the same way regular people could. Not the way they could’ve if they chose literally any other occupation.
“Love doesn’t come naturally to me. Romantically, I mean. I’m not good at it. Nothing comes out of it,” he said halfheartedly. Saying that to the person he loved was probably not a good idea.
If they weren’t making direct eye contact, he would not have caught the slight furrow of Yonghoon’s brows. “Huh, I see.”
That was definitely not a good idea.
He waved his hands in front of him in a hurry. “I mean, hah, it’s less stressful than the thought of picking the wrong person, y’know? Like, uh, I’m not that good at love but if I believe the universe has the right person for me, I just have to find them.” He laughed nervously and then looked deadpan at Yonghoon. “I’m not a complete loser, I promise.”
Yonghoon actually laughed, causing his face to light up and Hyungu genuinely felt his heart skip a beat. “You kind of are but it’s okay. You’re my favorite loser.”
Hyungu leaned forward in his seat until his elbows were resting on his knees. He did it with the intention of putting his face in his hands to continue the loser bit but he made eye contact with Yonghoon again and faltered. “Thanks?”
He could see Yonghoon examining him with how close they were. Yonghoon’s eyes wandered all over his face: from his eyes, down to his cheekbones, then finally down at his lips, his gaze lingering there too long for comfort.
Frantic, Hyungu leaned back into his chair and turned around to face his monitor—anything to avoid Yonghoon looking at him like that. This was what he meant about the way Yonghoon looks at him giving everything away. But again, they can’t just give in like that. Leaning back and turning away was the best option; at least to him it was.
He cleared his throat. “But besides me being a loser and my lack of love life, that’s what I think fate is. Can you write about it now?” He clicked already mindlessly on his monitor, trying to pretend he was so much more focused than he actually was.
”I’ll see what I can do…” Yonghoon trailed off and Hyungu knew he wanted to talk more—he could hear it in his voice.
“But?”
“Huh, what do you mean ‘but?’”
“You want to say something else. I can hear it in your voice.”
“No…?”
He clicked around his desktop some more, trying to organize the files scattered everywhere. “Just say it, hyung.”
“I just think that the universe can decide whatever it wants but I’d also like to think I choose who I love,” Yonghoon said simply. He said it like it was without a doubt, his voice firm.
Which meant that Hyungu had to challenge it. Who would he be if he didn’t egg his members on? “What if you choose someone who isn’t good for you?” Click, click.
“I don’t think I have to worry about that.”
“Mm, what do you mean by that?” Wow, his desktop was a mess. How did he let it get into a state like this? He must’ve been—
“I mean, I chose you, didn’t I?”
Chose me?
Hyungu whipped his chair around once again and saw Yonghoon already looking at him like he was the only other person in the world.
God, of course he was already looking.
“You what?” Hyungu choked out. That was not what Yonghoon was supposed to say. He was supposed to continue the banter, keep arguing about fate and choice, literally anything else.
What, it must’ve been like at least seven months? Seven months of the most torturous back and forth he has ever experienced and the first time any of them said anything about it was like this? He did not spend years pining and months ignoring what he could’ve had just for it to come crashing now.
Every prolonged glance, every stare, every slight brush of their hands during their evening walks, everything night spent holed up in each other’s studios and baring the purest parts of their souls through music—it comes down to this?
You’ve got to be kidding.
Yonghoon tilted his hand to the side, hair falling onto his eyes and Hyungu wanted so badly to reach out and brush it away. “Oh, sorry. I thought you knew.”
Hyungu’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Of course I knew! But this cannot be how you’re finally bringing this up.”
“What do you mean ‘finally bringing this up?’” The tone of Yonghoon’s voice pierced through him. “I was just respecting your boundaries! You didn’t reciprocate when I made things so obvious that there was no way you didn’t know so I just didn’t say anything! How was I supposed to know it was mutual?”
What?
“No? I’ve been very interested for years but there’s nothing I—“ he paused, “we, there’s nothing we can do about it. Look at the industry we’re in. If anything about anyone got out then our entire career is destroyed. I can’t do that to you all just because I like someone.”
“Am I just someone?”
All the air in Hyungu’s lungs left. “No, of course not. That’s not what I meant—“ He stopped when he saw the grin on Yonghoon’s face. “You asshole.”
“I know what you mean, don’t worry. I’m just messing with you,” Yonghoon said, the laughter in his voice barely contained. His eyes were bright. “But you know you never mentioned that before. Like the industry thing.”
“Well, we never mentioned anything at all.”
“I guess. But apparently you haven’t mentioned anything for years.”
A groan rumbled from the back of Hyungu’s throat. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe this is how you find out.” He lifted his hand to run it through his hair, a habit he slowly absorbed after a decade of friendship with Yonghoon.
But his hand stopped—not because he stopped but because something else did. Someone else stopped it. The height difference from one person sitting on a chair and the other sitting on the floor made the action more awkward than it had to be but Yonghoon still lunged forward to grasp Hyungu’s arm. Neither of them said anything as he brought Hyungu’s hand low enough for him to be facing the palm of his hand.
“Yeah, I can’t believe it either.”
Hyungu didn’t know what was happening, his focus rapidly switching between the hand on his arm and the palm of his hand being close enough to Yonghoon’s face to feel the faint warmth of his breath.
When Yonghoon put his hand against Hyungu’s, the entire world seemed to stop. The hum of his PC disappeared, the flickering light outside stayed on, the hammering in his chest stilled—the entire universe stopped for him at that moment. He sat there, perfectly frozen in time and staring at their hands pressed against each other.
But time kick-started itself again the moment Yonghoon gingerly laced his fingers in between Hyungu’s still upright hand. Hyungu could see the way Yonghoon’s eyes darted all around his face, trying to detect any change in facial expression that might give away anything he might feel about the sudden development.
He wanted this. This represented years of emotional turmoil finally coming to fruition. Every part of his mind was screaming because this was exactly where he wanted to be for years: reciprocated feelings that were acknowledged by both parties. Still, why did it terrify him?
Was it the fear of what would happen to them if the public were to ever find out? The fear of the reality he used for years as a shield to stop himself from feeling too much finally changing? Just simply the fear of change?
Or was it the fear of Yonghoon not being the one the stars meant for him? He spent so many years believing in fate; it wasn’t a doctrine he lived by because he had to but something akin to hope. Staying stagnant with his and Yonghoon’s relationship felt safe because going further meant testing his own beliefs.
Would he be content if the universe told him no? Would he be content if the universe told him there was someone else for him that wasn’t Yonghoon?
No, he wouldn’t.
He closed his hand around Yonghoon’s, so slowly he could barely tell he was moving. Before he could react to their hands being fully conjoined, the most beautiful smile stretched across Yonghoon’s face, crinkling the corners of his eyes and baring the stars on his face.
That was a risk he was willing to take.