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Hyeongjun wakes up with a splitting headache.
The light from the window is just bright enough to make the pounding in his head worsen, and he quickly covers his eyes with both hands and groans out loud. His head is swimming, he can hardly form a thought, and the only thing that comes to mind at the moment is: am I dying?
Thrashing around from discomfort, his elbow lands into something solid and warm, and when he hears a muffled noise from next to him, he realizes it’s a body. No one was in his bed besides himself when he went to sleep last night. Could it be Jooyeon? Only Jooyeon and Jungsu are that clingy, and Jungsu has a little more respect for Hyeongjun’s personal space than Jooyeon does. Hyeongjun shuffles away, unused to the intimacy, and quite uncomfortable to have a body right next to his own.
He figures he must have woken Jooyeon up from the elbow to his side, because even with his eyes closed he feels the way the figure next to him sits up, their weight distribution on the mattress shifting. The covers are suddenly pulled back and now, not only is his head still throbbing, he’s cold.
“Stop,” he mumbles, reaching for the covers again. The voice that comes from the figure next to him isn’t Jooyeon’s.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Hyeongjun forces himself to open his eyes then, even if the light hurts. He turns and blinks away his bleary vision. The figure has dark hair, a little bit longer than Jooyeon’s, and it’s wild and curly and not silky like Jooyeon’s. The figure backs away from Hyeongjun and he rubs his eyes until he can finally focus his vision on the stranger’s face—downturned eyes, sharp nose, small mouth gaped open. Hyeongjun wonders if he’s having a stroke or some other kind of neurological emergency, because he’s seeing his own face looking back at him.
The figure backs away from him, jumping out of the bed. Hyeongjun can only stare at him. He never really sees other angles of his face, only the straight-on reflection he gets of himself in the mirror every day. He had been forced into taking lessons recently to practice his expressions and gestures when on stage and he hated it—seeing his face so much, so unnaturally, forced to be so conscious of every movement he makes. This is different from those lessons. He’s watching his own face make every awkward, wrong movement. It’s uncanny in a way he can’t explain.
Hyeongjun figures he must be dreaming. All the stress over their upcoming debut has been getting to him recently, manifesting in ways he doesn’t like. He’s not sure what it means psychologically for him to be dreaming about his own doppelgänger, though.
The other Hyeongjun keeps staring at him, not taking his eyes off of him as he shouts, “Hyung! Seungmin!”
He realizes that the room he’s in isn’t familiar. It’s not his shared room, it’s a single bedroom with a desk and a computer and shelves decorated with manga and figurines. There are posters on the wall of J-Rock bands he likes and a little teal rabbit plush on the bed next to him. He spots Hota on a stand with another unfamiliar guitar next to it, the body bright yellow like a lemon.
The sound of footsteps are heard down the hall, and then the door to the bedroom is opening, and Gunil and Seungmin walk in.
They, too, look different. Seungmin’s hair isn’t white-blonde, it’s cut shorter, dyed a vibrant orange. Gunil’s hair is still black and about the same length, but even though he isn’t sporting a new haircut like the other two, he still looks different somehow. Hyeongjun stares at the three of them and realizes that their features are settled well into their face, a little slimmer, less plushness in their cheeks.
“Please tell me you guys are seeing him too,” Not-Hyeongjun begs, eyes darting between him and the other two.
Gunil looks speechless, pale as a ghost. His mouth opens and closes and Hyeongjun doesn’t think he has ever seen their chatty Gunil at a loss for words before.
“Is this some kind of prank?” Seungmin’s voice is high-pitched and edging on a delirious laugh. “What the hell am I looking at?”
Hyeongjun frowns and looks down at himself. He’s just wearing a tee and shorts, and his hair is probably a mess because it always is when he wakes up, but surely he can’t look that bad. The AC in the room rattles to life and cool air ghosts across his skin, bringing goosebumps to his arms. Are physical sensations supposed to feel this real in your dreams?
“I just woke up and he was in my bed!” Not-Hyeongjun shouts, fists clenched in his hair.
Gunil starts walking towards him, slow and cautious, like Hyeongjun is going to bite him if he gets too close. He places a warm hand on Hyeongjun’s shoulder and squeezes as if he’s testing to see if he is real.
“I’m really confused right now,” Hyeongjun mumbles. Not-Hyeongjun looks like he’s about to faint.
“Oh, he can talk.” Seungmin’s words aren’t condescending—instead, it sounds like pure fascination.
“That’s my voice,” Not-Hyeongjun says.
Hyeongjun pulls his knees up to his chest, curling into himself. His heart is starting to race as he realizes he’s still not waking up.
“Am I not dreaming?” he whispers, mostly to himself, but then the others share a look between themselves. Hyeongjun pinches the skin of his arm between his thumb and index finger hard enough to hurt, and even after that he still digs his nails into his arm too, just as painful as the pinch. He still hasn’t woken up, and panic is really starting to set in now.
Gunil backs away from him, digging his phone out of his pocket. “I’m gonna call the others,” he mumbles, then steps out of the room.
-
Hyeongjun comes to learn that the six of them don’t live in the same dorm. It’s split between two separate dorms, with everyone given a room of their own and a dedicated space. He’s so envious of this Hyeongjun, because spending every hour of every day with people surrounding him is draining at times, especially when he had been used to living at home, an only child with parents that knew he needed his space. Adjusting to dorm life had been really difficult in the months following his contract signing.
When Jungsu, Jiseok, and Jooyeon finally arrive, he’s stunned at their appearances, too.
The first thing he notices is how long Jooyeon’s hair has gotten. It’s down to his collarbones, cut into layers that frame his face prettily. Jungsu’s hair is shaggy, grown out at the nape of his neck, and his body looks so much broader than before. Jiseok is sporting silver hair with his bangs falling in his face, but his eyes are still just as big as they always were.
He assumes that Gunil didn’t fill them in on the situation when he called them over, because every single one of them are taken aback when they walk in and see Hyeongjun on the bed. It makes him feel like a zoo animal or a circus freak, something to stare at for how strange and fascinating it is.
“Can you guys stop staring at me?” he mumbles.
Jiseok has the same laugh, stuttering and squeaky. “Dude, how else are we supposed to act when a clone shows up in our dorm?”
Jungsu plucks a lock of Hyeongjun’s hair, feeling it between his fingers, and he swats him away. “How are you just normal about this? Do you know what’s going on?” Jungsu asks.
Hyeongjun actually isn’t very normal about this. He’s really confused—his quick heartbeat hasn’t slowed down quite yet and his mind is still racing, but this just still doesn’t feel real. He recognizes that he isn’t dreaming, but it’s like the situation is failing to process in his mind, too fantastical to believe.
“I have no idea what’s happening.” His voice is small, eyes trained on the sheets in front of him. “I just went to sleep last night in my bed and woke up… here.”
“So, like, is he actually a clone?” Jooyeon asks, and Hyeongjun still doesn’t like being spoken about as if he’s not a real person. “He looks like you when we debuted.”
Hyeongjun furrows his eyebrows. “We haven’t debuted yet. It’s still a week away.”
The six in front of him share a look of disbelief.
“Hyeongjun,” Gunil starts, voice careful, “What year is it?”
“Twenty twenty-one.”
The expression of the others and their muffled conversation makes Hyeongjun think that right now, wherever he is, that answer probably isn’t true.
“Am I wrong?” He sounds a little hysterical. This only keeps getting more confusing—has he jumped timelines? Skipped further into the future?
“Um.” Gunil’s hands are clasped together, fidgeting awkwardly like he does when he doesn’t know what to say. “So, right now, it’s twenty twenty-five. November twenty-ninth.”
The date is the same. December sixth, their debut day, is just a week away. But if Gunil is right, that means in this universe, their four year anniversary is a week away.
Four years already? That seems like a lifetime to Hyeongjun. It’s more than half of their seven year contract and they’re still together, they even have new dorms and their own rooms now.
“So you’re from the past? We haven't debuted yet?” Jungsu asks him. He comes to sit on the bed next to Hyeongjun, and it’s kind of a relief, because the rest of them have kept their distance as if he’s diseased.
“No, we’re preparing for the showcase and everything right now.”
It’s been a mess for Hyeongjun recently. He feels like he hasn’t had time to breathe, it’s just been constant filming and practicing and worrying over his performance to the point he feels sick. Everyone has been nervous, of course, but he has felt insecure in a way he thought he had grown out of. Hyeongjun puts on a brave face because he has to, he doesn’t want to let down the members or the staff or his parents, but he’s never been more scared in his life. His decision to commit to music felt so relieving at first—he had a passion, a spark for something, and it met him at a point in his life where he felt a bit directionless. He doesn’t regret dedicating himself to music, but dedicating himself to the life of an idol is something else entirely.
He was the last to be added to the team, and when he first received news of his acceptance he was so excited. It was obvious to him that things would be difficult and he would be taken far outside of his comfort zone, and even though he told himself he could stick it out, everything seems to be piling up on him more and more as they prepare for their debut. For a while he was scared to be in front of cameras. He was always the shy kid that never wanted to draw any sort of attention to himself, now being made to record his progress monthly, to pose for photoshoots, to vlog their daily life. The cameras were difficult, and the thought of performing in front of large crowds still scares him. He recalls being so nervous to speak in front of Park Jinyoung that his voice was trembling. Hyeongjun has found himself second-guessing his decision at times, although he’d never share that thought to his mentors or bandmates. Having felt so out of his depth, it’s weird to see the six of them, four years older and more comfortable in their skin, all standing in front of him.
“Tell me something only the real Hyeongjun would know,” Jooyeon demands, half-playful and half-serious.
Hyeongjun bites his lip. He barely contains a smile when a thought comes to mind.
“You were the one that hid Gunil’s drumsticks.”
It was a few months ago, they had each been practicing their dedicated parts for their debut track, trying to perfect their instrumentals with help from their teachers, and there was one night where Jooyeon had confessed to Hyeongjun that he had been slacking on his practice when they were meant to have a full ensemble session the next day. He had proposed playing a prank on Gunil and hiding all his drumsticks so they wouldn’t have to practice. Hyeongjun refused to take part in it, but he said he’d keep Jooyeon’s secret.
The result was Gunil getting near furious, demanding that whoever was messing with him just give it up already and tell him where his drumsticks went. No one fessed up, and he had to root around the practice room, digging through his bag and peeking under equipment to find spare sticks he could use, grumbling the rest of the day. Hyeongjun could tell that he had a suspicion it was Jooyeon, but he had swore up and down that it wasn’t him, theorizing Gunil had lost his collection of sticks somehow. They never reappeared, and Hyeongjun still has no idea where Jooyeon had hid them.
Present day Gunil turns to look at Jooyeon, arms crossed over his chest. He’s laughing, but it’s a laugh that Hyeongjun knows is dangerous. Four years later and it seems that he’s still mad.
He looks between Not-Hyeongjun and Jooyeon and asks, “Is that true?”
Not-Hyeongjun nods. Jooyeon laughs awkwardly, lips stretched into a stressed smile, and that’s all it takes to give him away.
“Okay, well, I’ll deal with you later. We need to figure out what to do with Hyeongjun,” Gunil says. Not-Hyeongjun spares Gunil a look and he corrects himself: “The other Hyeongjun. Hyeongjun number two.”
“Should we give them different names so we can differentiate them?” Seungmin ponders, a finger to his chin.
“Easy, he can be Junhan,” Jiseok points to Hyeongjun, “And our Hyeongjun can be Hyeongjun.”
He frowns and looks at the ground. “I don’t want to be Junhan,” he says. He sounds juvenile, but it comes out before he can think twice about it.
When the topic of stage names came up, Hyeongjun hated the idea. The producers had essentially decided his stage name for him, and he could do little but just accept the arrangement. Although his stage name is composed of syllables in his actual name, it still feels so foreign and awkward introducing himself as Junhan. It makes him feel as if he’s playing a character in a movie.
After becoming acquainted with the members of Day6, he had spoken about the topic with Younghyun. He had described Young K as a persona that he uses on stage, something to turn into when he’s performing, the best version of himself. He advised Hyeongjun to think of his stage name in that light, and he had thanked his senior for his advice, but Hyeongjun can’t get it to resonate within him yet. He wants to be his real, authentic self one-hundred percent of the time. He doesn’t want to be Junhan—not there, and not here, either.
When he looks up, he immediately meets the gaze of Not-Hyeongjun. He looks troubled.
“Listen, you guys can call me Junhan, Jun, whatever. He can stay Hyeongjun.”
They seem content with the decision from Not-Hyeongjun (Junhan?) and the topic isn’t pushed. Hyeongjun breathes out a sigh of relief.
“So, like…” Hyeongjun begins, voice quiet, “Are we famous yet?”
-
It turns out that fame isn’t measured by one single factor. They’ve won awards from ceremonies, even won Rookie of the Year, but they haven’t scored a music show win just yet. They’ve gone on tours (multiple!), performed at countless festivals, collaborated with a musician as big as Yoon Dohyun, and they literally opened for Muse.
Hyeongjun couldn’t believe it when they dropped that one on him. Even just the mention had Gunil grinning ear to ear, eyes bright and eager to brag about all the details to Hyeongjun. They share all their accomplishments with him, happy to have them to their name, and also seemingly enjoying the way that Hyeongjun perks up at every new piece of information.
He learns that they’ve been given time off for the week leading up to their anniversary as a reward for the nonstop grind they’ve been up to this year, and this is their first free day in a while. No one really knows what to do with Hyeongjun, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so they agree to just keep him hidden away in the dorm for now.
Jiseok is hyping up a guitar solo that Hyeongjun supposedly performed at the Muse concert when he asks the question, “Can I watch it?”
Jiseok sucks his teeth and looks at the others. “Is it okay if he listens to our music? If he gets sent back to his, I don’t know, timeline, would it cause problems if he’s already heard songs we haven’t even written yet?”
“I’ll pretend I don’t know them,” Hyeongjun says immediately.
Junhan laughs, pointing a finger at him. “Yah, I know you’ll be writing them down and practicing them as soon as you can.”
Hyeongjun huffs. He can’t even attempt to defend himself because it’s essentially him calling himself out. There’s no use in denying it when it’s coming from someone that looks, thinks, and talks the exact same way he does.
“C’mon, we should let him have some fun,” Jungsu says. He grabs Hyeongjun’s wrist and tugs him up and out of bed, leading him down the hall and into the living room. Pairs of thudding footsteps can be heard behind them as the rest follow in line.
He ends up sandwiched between Jungsu and Jooyeon, with Seungmin and Jiseok perched on the arms of the couch, and Gunil and Junhan seated at their feet in front of the couch. He feels a little smothered but he tries to not let it bother him, he just clasps his hands together in his lap and tries to make himself small so as to not take up too much room on the couch.
Gunil has the remote in hand, already pulling up YouTube on the TV. “So, where should we start? Muse?”
Once Gunil queues up a video of their opening set, Hyeongjun learns that they’re fucking rockstars. Jooyeon already has natural charisma in Hyeongjun’s timeline even if they haven’t officially debuted yet, but it’s nothing compared to the way he commands the stage in the videos they play for him. Him and Jiseok are the stars of the show, bright and energetic and playing with the crowd as much as possible, and it wows him just how comfortable they seem on stage in front of thousands.
Jungsu, who was already undeniably talented at the piano, is even better now. There’s a song that Hyeongjun asked the name of but has already forgotten where Jungsu opens with a beautiful, haunting stretch on the keyboard, his fingers flying across it quicker than the camera can pick up, just for the song to crash into loud guitars and drums. Even through the heavy rock the sound of his piano is bright and clear.
The drum solo Gunil performs, aided by Seungmin on the synth and Hyeongjun’s own guitar, is so insane that Hyeongjun is staring in awe the whole time. It doesn’t surprise him that Gunil is capable of something like this, he went to university for this, after all, but he just hasn’t been given the chance to perform something like this yet. So far, they only have one song to their name. Hyeongjun can’t believe that they’ll be executing performances like this in his future.
Seungmin, too, seems to be having a great time. Every time the camera pans over to him he’s jumping, smiling, playing with Jooyeon to his right. Hyeongjun thinks back to his Seungmin—although he says he’s content with his position in the band these days, Hyeongjun remembers the story he was told of a time before he came to the company, one where Seungmin cried because he had trained so hard to be an idol and was pushed onto an instrument instead and told that this could be his only chance at debut. He reassures the members that he’s happy with where he is now as a part of a band, a part of their team, but sometimes when he messes up his parts, Hyeongjun catches the upset and discouraged expression he tries to hide. He wishes his Seungmin could see this one.
And then it comes to his part. Flanked by Jooyeon and Jiseok, he makes his way out onto the thrust stage, hands constantly in motion. His hair, much longer than it is now, whips into his face from the wind, but it doesn’t hinder his focus. Hyeongjun wonders how much time his future self spent practicing this. With the other two dancing and nodding their head behind him, he stays still, but he doesn’t look awkward. He looks cool.
Hyeongjun knows it’s technically him, but he still looks so alien. He’s not trying too hard, and he’s not tucking himself away in the corner timidly, either, he’s just performing like it’s nothing. Current Hyeongjun is so painfully aware of every movement he makes on stage, and this Hyeongjun just does what he wants.
At his feet, Gunil turns around and grins at him. “Aren’t you so cool now?”
Hyeongjun, bashful, just breathes out a laugh and nods his head.
“Was I not cool back then?” Junhan interjects, looking between Gunil and Hyeongjun.
Holding his hands up to pacify him, Gunil starts backtracking, “No, that’s not what I meant. You were cool back then!” He looks at Hyeongjun and places a hand on his knee. “You’re cool, I swear!”
“Wow,” Jooyeon says, eyes bright, immediately jumping at the opportunity to pick on Gunil. “Nineteen-year-old Hyeongjun time travels four years in the future and the first thing you tell him is how lame he is?”
“No, no,” Gunil says between bouts of laughter. “You were just more cute than anything during that time.”
Hyeongjun stares at his hands in his lap. They continue to argue about his cuteness compared to his coolness, and suddenly, his head starts to hurt again. The light from the window begins increasing in exposure and Hyeongjun has to close his eyes, dropping his head and clutching it in his hands as the sound of their conversation makes his ears ring. The rest quickly notice his worsening state.
“Are you okay?” Jungsu asks from next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“My head hurts,” he mumbles. All the sensations around him are becoming too much.
“Do you want to lay down?” Junhan asks, and then when Hyeongjun nods he grabs his hand and leads him back to his (their?) bedroom.
Once in the room, Junhan draws the blinds and closes the door to shut out the noise. Hyeongjun crawls into the bed and lays his head down. The sensation overload is mostly gone, but his headache persists, leaving him dizzy even after he closes his eyes. Junhan crouches down in front of him and brushes his hair out of his face.
“Better?”
Hyeongjun makes an unintelligible noise before mumbling, “Kinda.”
“Do you think this has something to do with you… being here? Time traveling?” Junhan wonders aloud. The headache feels the same as the one he woke up with, so he can only assume that it’s probably related in some way. Hyeongjun is too dizzy to be able to actually ponder it.
“I dunno,” he replies, words slurring together.
“Do you want me to stay with you or do you want to be alone?”
Hyeongjun knits his eyebrows together, eyes still squeezed shut. “Alone,” he whispers. Junhan accepts, telling him that they’ll be in the dorm if they need him, and he stands and slips away with the sound of socked feet, careful to close the door gently as he leaves. The room, quiet, dark, and solitary, lulls him to sleep.
-
By the time Hyeongjun wakes up, the sun is going down. He’s still a little groggy but his head is no longer throbbing, so he crawls out from beneath the covers and blindly stumbles his way through the dark bedroom to the door.
The rest of the apartment is quiet. He wanders down the hall and into the bathroom.
Flicking on the lightswitch, he stares at himself in the mirror. His hair, processed multiple times over with bleach, relaxer, and dye, sits messy on top of his head. He combs his fingers through it in an attempt to get it to lay down flat, but it’s fruitless.
Hyeongjun hadn’t fully closed the bathroom door, so when a hand from outside nudges it, it swings open easily. He makes eye contact with himself in the mirror for a second time as Junhan peeks his head in.
“I thought I heard footsteps. Are you feeling better?”
Hyeongjun nods at him in the mirror. With Junhan’s face reflected right next to his own, he studies it. There isn’t much difference in their features despite the gap in age. Their nose, mouth, and eyes look exactly alike, although it seems Junhan has lost a bit of the baby fat in his cheeks. He lifts a hand to swipe the hair out of his face, and Hyeongjun’s eyes zero in on his fingers.
“Are those tattoos?”
Junhan’s face brightens. “Yeah, look.”
He splays out his left hand so Hyeongjun can see. His nails are painted black and chipping at every corner, but he’s more interested in the lines drawn on Junhan’s fingers. Simple and geometric, he has straight lines drawn down his fingers, rings circling them, dots and diamonds in between. The ink has fallen out in a few spots but it’s not an eyesore, it just looks lived-in, as does his nail polish.
“They’ve faded in some spots and I want to get them touched up, I just haven’t found the time.”
“They’re really cool,” Hyeongjun breathes out. He traces the lines with the pad of his index finger in fascination. “How bad was the pain?”
“It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable.” Junhan gives him a crooked smile. “The pain kinda makes it fun.”
Hyeongjun just hums to show he’s listening as he finishes tracing the designs. He wonders if they’ll get even more tattoos after these. He’s surprised by the tattoos considering how heavily the company monitors their appearance, but he figures that Junhan wants to take advantage of as much autonomy and self-expression as he is allowed.
“Are you hungry? We ordered takeout earlier and there’s leftovers in the fridge.”
Hyeongjun nods eagerly. He follows Junhan to the kitchen, and when he reaches for the styrofoam boxes to peek at the selection, Junhan is already pulling out the dishes Hyeongjun likes the most and putting the others back in the fridge. Perks of having a clone with the same brain and tastebuds, he supposes.
After reheating the food and settling at the kitchen table, Junhan comes to sit across from him. He scrolls silently on his phone while Hyeongjun eats. It’s a comfortable silence. They don’t require much chatter.
Junhan places his phone down on the table and slides it over to Hyeongjun. The screen displays a stream of chat messages.
“Our fan app,” he explains. “You can read what people send to us.”
Hyeongjun blinks to readjust his vision to the brightness of the screen and starts skimming through the messages.
oppa i hope you’re having a good day ♡
it’s cold outside tomorrow, dress warm!!
can you tell jooyeon to post a selfie?
would you rather have all your teeth fall out or never play guitar again?
Hyeongjun nearly splutters on his food. Some of these messages are really… creative. He keeps reading the messages, soaking them all in. He can’t believe this many people care about him like this. He’s browsed social media to see what the world is saying about their debut and their teasers, how people are anticipating their debut and already dedicating themselves as fans, but they don’t really know anything about him beyond his name. These people, the ones sending Junhan messages, know things about him. They ask about music he has recommended before, they know his favorite anime and movies, they bring up anecdotes from his childhood that he assumes he has shared with them before. The messages praise his playing and his appearance and his style. Hyeongjun has never gotten this much attention before in his life.
oppa, i started learning guitar because of you! i started listening to xdinary heroes this summer and i see myself in you a lot. i’m a really quiet and shy person, but watching you inspires me. i hope i can be like you too. do you have any tips for a beginner?
Hyeongjun reads over that message a few times. He wants to respond, but he doesn’t know exactly what to say. He didn’t really grasp Park Jinyoung’s words when he said that fans could see him, relate to him, and think, if Junhan can do it, I can do it too. At his point in the timeline, he doesn’t feel like anyone could be inspired by him. As it turns out, Park Jinyoung’s sentiment really does have some weight to it.
He looks up from the phone to see Junhan watching him. He offers a small smile and passes the phone back to him.
“Everyones really nice,” he says. “There’s some that were a little weird.”
Junhan laughs. “Yeah, some of the messages we get are kinda strange. Most are sweet, though.”
Once finished with his meal, Hyeongjun insists on cleaning up after himself, and once he’s done he asks if he can take a shower.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll get some clothes for you to change into,” Junhan says.
When he returns, the graphic tee he passes to Hyeongjun is one that he recognizes, something he has worn since high school, but the shorts are unfamiliar. He shuffles his way to the bathroom and closes the door behind himself.
Once the water is warm enough, he steps inside, wetting himself under the spray. Most of the bath products are unfamiliar and he doesn’t know which one is his, so he just takes a guess and grabs whatever looks reasonable. He stares at the porcelain wall as he scrubs shampoo into his coarse hair.
Hyeongjun still has no clue what to think of this. Will he be stuck in this timeline forever? Did his past self just disappear, or is he a copy sent to another universe? He still wants to believe this is a dream, despite how realistic the sensations are, and how detailed his future appears to be. Some of these things he can’t imagine his brain conceiving on its own. He doesn’t want to be stuck here forever.
He quickly rushes through the process of cleaning himself up, rinsing himself off a final time, and then shutting the water off. As he towels himself dry, he hears muffled voices from outside the door.
“—he’s feeling better? That’s good.”
It sounds like Jiseok’s voice in the hallway. Hyeongjun stills, listening in on the conversation.
“Yeah, he ate just a bit ago, too,” Junhan says. “I don’t really know how to talk to him yet. I mean, it’s literally me, but I feel like I need to be careful with him. I guess I forgot how timid I was back then.”
Hyeongjun frowns. He can’t necessarily deny being timid, but he doesn’t want the others to feel like they need to tiptoe around him.
“Yeah, even after you got more comfortable with us, you were still pretty quiet for a while,” Jiseok recalls. His voice gets a little lower when he says, “He’s so cute, though. Can I hang out with him for a bit?”
A dull smack is heard, followed by Jiseok’s laughter.
“I’m not letting you take my innocence a second time,” Junhan scolds him. Hyeongjun’s eyes go wide.
“As if you were ever innocent,” Jiseok retorts.
Their voices get quieter as they walk away from the door. Hyeongjun stares at himself in the mirror, a blush spreading across his cheeks, and not from the steam. He clumsily fumbles through the drawers in search of a hairdryer and attempts to block out what he had overheard with its deafening squeal.
Once his hair is sufficiently dry, he exits the bathroom and tiptoes his way to Junhan’s bedroom again. When he opens the door, he spots him reclined against the headboard, phone in hand.
Hyeongjun doesn’t say anything as he walks over to him, looking at the bed, but Junhan picks up on his thought process. Shuffling to the side, he makes room for Hyeongjun to sit next to him.
“What are you watching?” Hyeongjun mumbles, peering over Junhan’s shoulder.
“One of our concerts from last year.” Junhan holds his phone closer to Hyeongjun so he can watch.
In the video, the camera jumps around quite a bit, focusing on each member during their singing parts. It doesn’t focus on Hyeongjun or Gunil much, but when he does get to see himself, he watches intently. His hands are so fast in the performance, executing things he knows must have taken hours and hours of practice. He likes observing his appearance, too, the long hair and the half skirt tied around his waist.
“I like the hair,” he murmurs as he watches. Hyeongjun has always felt more comfortable with shaggy hair compared to short, and the thought of growing it out further has crossed his mind before, but he never fully committed to it. He thought he might stand out too much.
“It looks nice, but it’s a lot more to take care of. I should show you the red I had earlier this year,” Junhan laughs.
“I like that we get to… express ourselves, I guess,” Hyeongjun says. Junhan looks at him, curious. He elaborates: “Like, the hair and nails and tattoos.”
Junhan hums in agreement. “Yeah. You get more freedom after a while.”
“I wish I had freedom over the styling right now. I hate our stupid plaid clown outfits,” Hyeongjun says miserably.
Laughing loudly, Junhan tells him, “Oh, trust me, you still have more weird outfits to look forward to.”
As Junhan speaks, his cheek twitches, then his eyebrows pinch together, then his cheek twitches again. The movements are familiar to Hyeongjun, but they seem bigger now.
“Has that gotten worse?” He asks when Junhan’s face spasms again.
As soon as Hyeongjun asks, Junhan’s mood drops and he looks a little frustrated, a little guilty. He doesn’t make eye contact when he says, “Yeah. Sorry.”
Hyeongjun’s tics are also something he’s hyper-aware of. He has attempted to suppress them during filming but it doesn’t work, it will just get worse or manifest into something different. The members have never really brought it up with him before, and he had a brief conversation about it with the staff members, but it’s been minimal enough that he can scrape by with little detection. Junhan’s movements are larger and more prolonged. He wants to tell Junhan that he shouldn’t feel sorry, but he knows the intention behind the apology: he doesn’t want Hyeongjun to have to deal with it in the future.
Hyeongjun is aware that not everything about his future will be perfect, but Junhan only wants to show him the good parts. Hyeongjun knows himself, and he knows he prefers to hide when he struggles.
The next video in the queue autoplays, and as the ads roll, Hyeongjun’s unsated curiosity gets the better of him.
“I heard you and Jiseok in the hall earlier,” he begins quietly. “You said, um… you said you didn’t want him taking your… innocence… again.”
Junhan breathes out a laugh, locking his phone screen and silencing the video. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“Does that mean that you’re, like… that we—”
“It doesn’t mean it’s anything serious, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Junhan interrupts. “It’s just for fun.”
Hyeongjun nods silently. He had caught Jiseok and Jooyeon making out once after coming home early, and after a lot of flustered excuses, blushing, and dancing around the topic, he was told that they just ’help each other out’. It’s not unheard of for hormonal, not-so-straight young men to fuck around when they have no other outlet to let off steam. It’s safer for it to be between themselves than adding an outsider into the picture.
He learned early on that homophobia was something he’d never have to experience from his bandmates, but it’s not easy to come out with something that could easily ruin his life. Even when he found out Jiseok and Jooyeon mess around for fun, he still didn’t divulge his sexuality to them, he just told them to be careful and kept it at that. It appears that his resolve slipped after a while.
“Does everyone know?” Hyeongjun asks in a small voice.
“About being gay? Yeah, all the members know,” Junhan answers breezily, like it’s nothing to him. “No one cares. You don’t have to be afraid to tell them.”
Beyond the coming out aspect, Hyeongjun is still flustered that he has apparently had sex with someone.
“Was it not scary? Being with someone?” he questions.
Junhan leans back, looking at the ceiling in thought as he recalls the memory. “Not really. I thought I would be really scared by it, but in the moment, you just stop caring. Jiseok was good at making me feel comfortable.”
Hyeongjun nods in agreement. Jiseok has always been good at that—he plays around with Hyeongjun and loops him into his and Jooyeon’s shenanigans to try and coax him out of his shell, but he still knows when to stop. He knows exactly how to lure Hyeongjun into having fun without pushing him too far.
“Who was—like, which one of you was doing the—“
“Are you wanting to know who topped?” Junhan asks, a little grin on his face at Hyeongjun’s awkwardness.
Hyeongjun’s cheeks feel hot. He doesn’t even know why he’s embarrassed when he’s talking about this topic with himself, but he can’t help it. He nods wordlessly.
“It was me at first. It’s less complicated than bottoming, so for my first time, we just… did it like that.” Junhan gets a little sheepish at the end, and Hyeongjun is relieved to see him getting shy, too.
“But you’ve also…?” He trails off, but Junhan gets his drift.
“Yeah, I’ve done both.” Junhan eyes him up and down, amused. “What we did in high school doesn’t compare, by the way.”
Hyeongjun groans and covers his face with his hands. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the time he nearly melted into a puddle of embarrassment buying lube at the convenience store, then took it home and did a little self-exploration while his parents were out of town. It felt weird at first, then kinda good when he found where to touch, but he was scared to do more than two fingers. The process was also too inconvenient to attempt very often when he could still get the job done with his right hand.
“Was Jiseok being serious earlier?”
“I think he was just being silly. Why, do you wanna fuck him?”
Hyeongjun elbows Junhan in the side for his crassness. “No!”
“You seem really curious about this,” Junhan teases.
Hyeongjun huffs. He feels like it’s an entirely reasonable thing to be curious about. He did not expect to hear that four years in the future, he has not only lost his virginity, but had sex with a member of his band.
“I guess I’m curious,” he concedes, “But I don’t think I’m ready for someone else to see me like… that.”
Junhan turns to face him more. Hyeongjun can feel his eyes on him.
“What about me?”
Hyeongjun blinks. “What do you mean?”
“Would you want to try it with me? I mean, isn’t that the thing everyone always asks? If you had a clone, would you have sex with it?”
He stares at Junhan in disbelief, but there are no signs that he’s just messing with him. He seems genuinely intrigued at the idea. Hyeongjun hasn’t fully considered what it would be like to lose his virginity—the idea seemed too unrealistic due to the life he lives, but apparently the opportunity arises with Jiseok later on. Maybe he would be comfortable with it in the future, but right now, he wouldn’t want his bandmates to see him so vulnerable. Would it be different if it was himself? Hyeongjun wouldn’t be overthinking about the way his body looks or what his reaction to stimulation might be if the person witnessing it has seen it all before.
From his hesitation, Junhan can tell he’s thinking about it. With a smile, he whispers, “Wouldn’t it be fun? I know what makes us feel good.”
Hyeongjun stares at him. Junhan is leaning against the headboard, his posture loose and relaxed as he asks the question. He’s not scared by the thought of sex.
“Can we stop if I decide I don’t want to do it anymore?” Hyeongjun requests, apprehensive.
Junhan plucks a stray hair off of Hyeongjun’s face. “Yeah, of course.”
Taking a deep breath, Hyeongjun nods slowly. His heart is racing but it’s coupled with the feeling of butterflies in his stomach. With a little more conviction, he gives Junhan an okay.
As soon as he is given the green light, Junhan gently tugs Hyeongjun’s body toward the center of the bed, encouraging him to lie down instead of being propped up. Hyeongjun is well aware that he’s lanky, his limbs usually awkward when they move, but Junhan seems self-assured in the way he moves around Hyeongjun. When he climbs over Hyeongjun, the heavy pendant attached to his necklace sways beneath his throat. His arms cage Hyeongjun in and it makes him feel trapped at first, but he just reminds himself that the person above him shares his body, his thoughts, his memories, and he doesn’t have to be scared of him.
Junhan studies his face for a moment. “Can I kiss you?”
“Um… sure? Would it be weird?” Hyeongjun mumbles into the space between them.
“Not any weirder than fucking your clone,” Junhan replies, then closes the gap between their lips.
His lips are warm against Hyeongjun’s own as he places a brief closed-mouth kiss onto him. He curls a hand around the back of Hyeongjun’s neck and kisses him again, teasing Hyeongjun’s mouth open to slot into it. He really has no idea what he is supposed to be doing—the feeling is wet and foreign and he doesn’t know what to do with his lips or his tongue but the intimacy of it warms the top of his ears. Junhan is likely aware that Hyeongjun doesn’t know what to do but he kisses his clumsy lips anyway, licking into his mouth without warning in a way that makes Hyeongjun squeak beneath him.
Laughing with Hyeongjun’s lower lip tucked between his teeth, he places one last sloppy kiss onto him and pulls back.
“That was weird.” Hyeongjun is a bit breathless. “I don’t know if I like it.”
Junhan’s lips are shiny and slightly swollen, pinker than usual. “Sorry. It is weird at first.” His hand, still tucked behind Hyeongjun’s head, curls into the hair at the nape of his neck and tugs his head back gently, exposing his neck. “Here, I’ll do something that you’ll like.”
His wet lips return, pressed to his jaw this time. Junhan trails kisses down his throat, nibbling the soft elastic skin as he goes. Hyeongjun quickly realizes the flesh of his throat is sensitive as Junhan kisses and bites him. He arches up into his touch, small, soft sounds escaping his parted lips as Junhan’s warm mouth explores the curve of his neck. He belatedly realizes that he is clutching Junhan’s upper arms, fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt in search of something to ground him as he squirms beneath his touch. Junhan drags his tongue over a particularly sensitive spot, closing his lips around it and sucking the flesh, his teeth biting just enough for the pinch to hurt. Hyeongjun briefly worries about the fact that Junhan is likely leaving a mark, but he doesn’t voice it, too mindless to seriously care in the moment.
He pulls on Hyeongjun’s hair again, harder this time, and it draws a particularly whiny noise out of him. Mortified, he clamps his mouth shut. Junhan just laughs at him.
“That’s another reason to enjoy the long hair,” he teases.
Junhan sits up and reaches for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and off his torso so he can toss it to the side. His body hasn’t changed much at all—he’s still just as boney and unathletic as he always was. Plucking at the hem of Hyeongjun’s shirt, he quirks his head as if to ask, yours too?
Hyeongjun agrees, lifting himself up briefly so Junhan can pull his shirt off. When he lies back down, he stares down at himself, his bare torso and his twiggy arms. He doesn’t like the way it looks from his vantage point, but when he looks up and sees Junhan above him wearing the exact same features, he looks different. Maybe it’s just because Hyeongjun only ever sees his bare body from one angle in the mirror, but seeing Junhan move, the things he is insecure about don’t stand out as much as he thought they did.
When his gaze travels down, he notices the bulge in Junhan’s shorts. Hyeongjun was well aware of how he had been stiffening up in his boxers himself, but he didn’t expect to see Junhan so affected by it, too. It’s strange to him. Junhan hadn’t even been touched, he had just kissed Hyeongjun and sucked marks into his neck, and still, he’s hard. Turned on solely by himself—does that make him a narcissist?
“Can I take these off, too?” Junhan asks, hooking his fingers into Hyeongjun’s waistband.
He gives Junhan the okay without much thought. Hyeongjun isn’t as nervous as he thought he would be, and he’s not sure if it was all the mental reassurance he gave himself, or if Junhan was right and it’s not that scary when he’s lost in the moment.
Soon enough, they’re both unclothed. He hasn’t gotten over how strange it is to see his own body in front of him, separate from him, but still just as turned on as he is. It’s kinda funny—he only ever sees his dick from the top down, and now he gets a full three-sixty view. It looks equally as foreign as it does familiar.
Another benefit to fucking his clone is that he knows how to touch him. Junhan curls loose fingers around Hyeongjun’s dick, carefully dragging his hand up and down slowly, just the teasing ghost of his touch. Hyeongjun likes to draw it out when he has the time—unhurried, gentle stimulation, working himself up slowly until he can’t take it anymore.
Junhan’s other hand skirts up his torso to brush a thumb over Hyeongjun’s nipple. He makes an embarrassing noise and clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle any further ones as Junhan teases the flesh between his fingers. He is leaking precum onto Junhan’s knuckles, barely holding himself back from bucking up into his touch. Junhan’s eyes trail over his body as if he is equally as intrigued to see himself like this.
Under his breath, he murmurs, “Can I fuck you?”
Hyeongjun’s heart leaps to his throat. Junhan had said earlier that he topped for his first time because bottoming was more complicated, but he can’t lie, the thought of lying back and letting Junhan guide him through it seems appealing. They don’t have anywhere to be—Junhan has no schedules to attend, and Hyeongjun has no idea how long he is going to be here, so they could take their time. And he had said that he would stop if Hyeongjun ever changed his mind.
“Sure,” Hyeongjun squeaks.
Laughing at his demeanor, Junhan leans down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Gunil was right, you are kinda cute. I guess I didn’t see it back then.”
Junhan leans to the side and fumbles around his bedside table for a moment before returning with a bottle of lube clutched in his hand. Hyeongjun is a bit mortified that he apparently keeps that lying around his bedroom, easily accessible.
Returning to his spot on the bed, Junhan coaxes Hyeongjun into rolling over onto his stomach, placing a pillow beneath his hips to keep them propped up as he takes his place behind him. Hyeongjun is immediately burying his warm face in his arms as Junhan pushes and pulls him into such a compromising position. He’s embarrassed but he’s also buzzing with excitement, barely resisting the urge to grind his dick into the pillow beneath him. Junhan had said that their brief experiment with fingering didn’t compare with what's to come.
“It’s gonna be a little cold at first,” Junhan warns with the sound of the cap squeaking behind him.
Hyeongjun jumps when cool, slick fingers brush against his hole. Junhan briefly massages him, letting him get used to the feeling while smoothing a hand down his back. Hyeongjun realizes he’s trembling slightly.
“I’m gonna put one in, okay?”
Hyeongjun mumbles okay back, muffled by his arms, but Junhan still hears it. He starts to press one finger inside, going slowly and carefully inch by inch until he’s down to his knuckle. Gently, he pulls it back out just as slow, then pushes back inside once more to get Hyeongjun used to the feeling. He has technically done this before, he’s not entirely out of his depth, but it’s new to be on the receiving end of someone else’s hands.
Once satisfied with his reaction to one finger, Junhan returns with a second. It sinks inside equally as slowly and Hyeongjun is wringing his fists in the sheets, both overwhelmed and still needing more at the same time. He jolts when cold lube is unexpectedly poured onto where Junhan is fucking his fingers inside him—it aids the glide but it also increases the noise, the slick sounds of Junhan working him open getting louder. Hyeongjun realizes then that he, too, is also making noise, small whimpers into the sheets.
Junhan works his fingers in and out of him for a bit, scissoring the digits apart to gradually stretch him, and soon enough he is squeezing in a third finger alongside the other two. It makes Hyeongjun’s breath hitch in his throat. He has only ever tried two fingers inside himself, mostly because the only times he has tried fingering, he wasn’t planning on putting anything bigger inside himself. He was content to just fuck himself on two digits and prod around until he found the spot that really made him feel good. The stretch is new but it’s not unpleasant, especially with Junhan being careful and slow and guiding him through it.
Junhan begins to crook his fingers inside of him. His heart races, he knows what Junhan is doing, and it takes just seconds for him to find what he was looking for. Hyeongjun lets out a strangled noise when Junhan finds his prostate and starts nudging at it, sending shock waves of arousal straight to Hyeongjun’s dick. He has already been leaking onto the pillow shoved beneath him but the new, direct stimulation to his prostate has him jerking violently and rutting against the already wet fabric. He tries to stifle himself but it seems impossible with how Junhan targets that spot inside him.
“Stop, Hyung, stop, I’m gonna cum,” he begs, his voice sounding so pitchy and pathetic. He doesn’t realize what he has said until Junhan repeats it back to him.
“Am I your hyung now?”
“Oh my God,” Hyeongjun whines into the sheets, mortified. Hyeongjun had been speaking to Junhan informally so far because, well, they’re the same person, but technically he’s still four years older than Hyeongjun. Maybe Junhan’s demeanor at the moment, more confident and self-assured, had triggered something inside Hyeongjun’s brain to remind him that Junhan is older. He hadn’t meant to let it slip out.
“It’s okay, I can be your hyung.” Even without seeing Junhan’s face, he can hear the mirth in his voice. Nudging him, he instructs, “C’mon, turn around.”
Hyeongjun flips around onto his back, now facing Junhan. His chest rises and falls, breathing heavily from arousal as he looks down at Hyeongjun, apparently still getting off on nothing but himself. Junhan quickly slicks himself up with more lube and when he tugs Hyeongjun by his legs into his lap, what they’re doing really starts to set in.
“Is this incest?” Hyeongjun blurts out.
Junhan really seems to ponder it for a second. Eventually, he comes to the conclusion: “I think it’s just, like, masturbation with extra steps.”
Hyeongjun breathes out a laugh, but soon all the air is taken from his lungs when Junhan grips his cock and presses the tip up against Hyeongjun’s slick, stretched hole. “You ready?” Junhan asks, and when Hyeongjun says yes, he starts pushing inside.
Three fingers inside him doesn’t compare to the feeling of an actual cock stretching him open. Junhan had been thorough when working him open to avoid pain but the fullness is still a bit uncomfortable at first as he sinks inside slowly, his fingers digging into Hyeongjun’s thighs. Junhan is biting his lip, eyebrows drawn together as he presses into Hyeongjun until their bodies are flush against each other. He stays still for a moment to let Hyeongjun get used to the feeling and as soon as his body is relaxing he playfully drags his fingertip up the underside of Hyeongjun’s leaking dick, making him arch his back and clench around Junhan.
“Fuck,” Hyeongjun swears under his breath, slinging an arm over his face to hide himself. The pressure of Junhan inside him, so near to that spot he had been targeting with his fingers earlier, makes him tremble.
“Can I move?” Junhan’s voice sounds strained, just as equally affected as Hyeongjun is.
“Please,” Hyeongjun whispers, and so Junhan does.
He draws his hips back until just the tip remains inside, then thrusts his way back in, causing both of them to let out twin moans. Hyeongjun, a little delirious, can’t help but laugh. He’s fucking himself. He literally has his own dick inside himself.
Junhan gradually picks up the pace once Hyeongjun shows no signs of discomfort, readjusting his grip on Hyeongjun’s thighs so he can fuck him a little harder. He’s making noise, letting out little whimpers and moans that he would surely be embarrassed by if he wasn’t so drunk off sex, too focused on how good it feels to care about how needy he sounds.
He peeks at Junhan from beneath the arm slung over his face. He’s focused, staring down at where they’re connected as he fucks into Hyeongjun. His fluffy, unkempt hair falls into his face, and that heavy Vivienne Westwood necklace thuds against his sternum with each movement he makes. Out of curiosity, Hyeongjun clenches around him, and it makes Junhan’s hips stutter with a moan, throwing his head back. Hyeongjun has never thought of himself as sexy—he’s always been awkward, inelegant, too long-limbed—but the familiar stranger in front of him proves him wrong. Junhan looks hot, confident, everything Hyeongjun has never seen in himself. Hyeongjun watches like he’s in a trance.
Junhan’s head drops down again and he makes eye contact with him. Breathless, he asks, “Good?”
“Yes,” Hyeongjun replies immediately. The feeling is intoxicating. Desperate, he requests, “Touch me?”
Junhan lets go of Hyeongjun’s legs in favor of wrapping a hand around his sensitive, leaking cock. “You’re so whiny,” he teases. “I need to ask Jiseok if I was this whiny at first.”
Hyeongjun wants to make a jab at him in return but he doesn’t get the chance to when Junhan drags his thumb over the head of his cock at the same time he thrusts into him hard, drawing a strangled noise out of Hyeongjun.
While experimenting with fingers, Hyeongjun didn’t know if he would actually enjoy real penetration or not. The thought of something bigger than a couple fingers felt really daunting, but now, having felt an actual cock inside him, he gets why people like this so much. Every time Junhan thrusts into him it jolts him up the bed, probably knocking the headboard into the wall as well, and he sends a mental apology to whoever is on the other side.
When Junhan drops down to lean over him, one arm planted on the mattress and the other still jacking Hyeongjun off, he gets close enough to attach his mouth to Hyeongjun’s neck again. He keeps fucking him while kissing and licking and biting all over the column of his throat. Hyeongjun, keen to have something to hold onto, tangles his hands into Junhan’s hair and clutches at the strands, earning him a pleased noise.
He feels smothered with Junhan covering his body like this. They’re both feverish, warm and sticky, and eager to reach their climax.
“Hyung, I’m close.” Hyeongjun’s voice is high and airy, hardly able to get the words out with the distraction of Junhan’s lips on his windpipe.
Junhan seems to take this as a challenge. He sucks on the side of his neck, moaning into his skin while both his hand and his hips pick up their pace. Hyeongjun feels attacked from all sides with stimulation, and it doesn’t take long for him to break and start spilling cum all over his stomach.
“Yeah, there you go, that’s it,“ Junhan praises into his skin.
He bites his lip to stifle his strangled moans as Junhan keeps working his fist over his cock, stroking him into overstimulation just the way he likes. Weak spurts of cum dribble down Junhan’s knuckles and only once he’s trembling under his touch does Junhan let go, pulling out and jerking himself off over Hyeongjun’s stomach. His cum joins Hyeongjun’s, splattered across his abdomen. The sight is so dirty yet Hyeongjun can’t bear to look away.
Junhan touches himself until he’s sensitive and shaking as well, then exhales all his tension in one heavy breath as he slumps back down. They sit for a minute to catch their breath, but the cum is starting to dry on Hyeongjun’s skin, and he really doesn’t want to scrub off flaky, dry semen later.
He sits up on his elbows, staring down the cum on his stomach. “Do you have tissues?”
Junhan, only realizing just now that Hyeongjun still needs to be cleaned off, quickly stands from the bed and hastily redresses himself. “I’ll get a towel, hold on,” he calls over his shoulder.
Hyeongjun holds his breath the entire time the door is ajar as Junhan slips out of the room. He really doesn’t want anyone walking past and peering inside. Oh God, did the others hear them? He wasn’t being very quiet, was he?
Soon enough, Junhan returns with a damp washcloth in hand. He carefully wipes the cum off, then folds the towel in on itself to wipe between Hyeongjun’s legs with the clean side, then tosses the towel in his hamper. Hyeongjun doesn’t want to think about how the washcloth is going to look when it dries.
Junhan tugs the damp bedspread down the mattress and leaves it crumpled at the foot of the bed and procures a blanket from somewhere else, although it’s not quite big enough to cover the entire bed. Still, it fits over Hyeongjun, whose skin had been collecting goosebumps as the sweltering heat inside him died down.
Climbing into bed next to him, Junhan crawls his way under the blanket as well. Normally, Hyeongjun isn’t very big on skinship. He usually just has to grin and bear it when the others try to be touchy with him. One thing he did notice is that now, they seem to respect his space more. During the time they were all on the couch together, no one was touching him or Junhan unsolicited. Maybe they’ve grown used to his preferences by now. They know he doesn’t like it.
Still, despite his typical aversion, he crawls closer to Junhan, tucking himself into his chest. Junhan doesn’t seem put off by it, he doesn’t even seem surprised, he just wraps an arm around Hyeongjun and holds him.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs into Hyeongjun’s hair.
“Yeah. I really hope the others didn’t hear.”
He can feel the vibration of Junhan’s laugh beneath his head. “It’s okay, they know by now to put on headphones if they don’t want to listen.”
Hyeongjun grumbles out a few words, unconvinced, but he doesn’t say much else. He liked the experience. Quite a lot, actually. He didn’t realize how easy it would be to stop caring about what he sounded like, what he looked like, how he moved, when it was someone he trusted. He didn’t have to think about anything except feeling good. It definitely helped that Junhan knows exactly where and how he likes to be touched.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Junhan asks.
“Mm, it felt really good,” he mumbles, voice barely audible. The post-orgasm exhaustion is starting to sink in now. “I liked that I didn’t have to think for a while. I’ve been so stressed lately.”
Junhan huffs out a breath. “Yeah, I remember. Debut wasn’t easy.”
Their debut hasn’t really felt real for Hyeongjun until just recently, and then everything hit him all at once. The anticipation, the excitement, the fear, the need to prove himself. They’re not just individuals, they’re a team, and Hyeongjun can’t crumble and let his own failings take the rest down with him. He’s been staying strong because he has to, but he has felt like he has the world on his shoulders.
“It gets better, right?” His words are muffled into Junhan’s shirt, so quiet even though they’re the only ones in the room.
Junhan’s hand comes to rest between his shoulderblades, fingers warm against Hyeongjun’s naked skin. He rubs circles into his back the same way his mom did when he was a little kid and he would come crawling into his parents bed late at night. Hyeongjun tightens his arms around Junhan.
“Mostly.” Junhan stays quiet for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. “Being an idol isn’t easy, but you know that. There’s times where it gets really hard to keep going at the pace they set for us. You’ll have hard times. Some stuff stays difficult, but a lot of things get easier.”
Hyeongjun sighs without thinking about it, earning him a chuckle from Junhan. “I know it’s not what you want to hear,” he continues. “Don’t get discouraged, though. There are so many things you still have to look forward to.”
He’s not naive. Hyeongjun knows that the life he has signed himself up for is hard, and here Junhan is, telling him that it’s hard, but when he looks at himself in Junhan, and the videos he witnessed of himself on stage, he can’t help but be excited by it. One day in the not so distant future, Hyeongjun will be performing on stage after stage, an actual musician. That’s the ultimate goal, isn’t it? To be an artist. He looks at Junhan and his style, his technical skill, and his passion that hasn’t wavered, and he thinks:
“I can’t wait to be you.”
Junhan laughs at him once more. It would frustrate Hyeongjun if it came from anyone else—he wants Junhan to know his sincerity, and he trusts that he does. With the hand not rubbing his back, he ruffles Hyeongjun’s hair. It tickles his face but he doesn’t complain.
“Okay, I’m not that impressive. But who knows, maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up four years in the future and get to see if we’re even cooler at twenty-seven.”
Hyeongjun thinks about it for a moment before coming to the conclusion: “We’ll probably be bald and serving in the military.”
He ducks his head and yawns into Junhan’s chest as their conversation gradually slows. He had napped for at least a few hours earlier, but he’s still sleepy from having all the energy fucked right out of him.
“Tired?” Junhan asks needlessly.
Hyeongjun nods his head, relaxing against Junhan’s chest and letting his eyes close. He’s still naked, but it’s warm enough under the covers with another body pressed to his. He’ll probably be tender tomorrow, but for right now, the soreness in his muscles feels nice.
Before they get too comfortable, Junhan asks, “Do you want to sleep alone again, or do you want me to stay?”
The same question, when asked earlier, resulted in a negative. Hyeongjun’s head was pounding at the time and his gut instinct when asked if he wants company or to be alone is to always choose solitude. He likes his personal space, his peace and quiet, but now, he couldn’t bear to be alone in Junhan’s bed.
He doesn’t have to think twice about it, a whispered ’stay’ is his immediate answer.
So stay Junhan does. He leans over to tug down the pull of his lamp, plunging the room into darkness. He shuffles his way back to Hyeongjun and allows him to return to his spot, arms tucked around Junhan’s body with his cheek pressed to his chest. Once Junhan adjusts the blanket so that all their extremities are properly covered, he places his hand onto Hyeongjun’s back once more, rubbing between his shoulder blades in that familiar manner. Other than some soft footsteps every now and then the dorm stays quiet, and it doesn’t take very long for Hyeongjun to begin to drift off, warm and safe.
When Hyeongjun wakes the next day, tucked in his bunk in the room he shares with Gunil, the memories don’t linger. They fade away like most dreams do in the few minutes after waking. And when Junhan opens his eyes to an empty bed, he trusts that Hyeongjun is going to be alright.