Chapter Text
The air in the BIGHIT practice studio was thick with the scent of floor wax and cooling sweat. It was nearly midnight, but the harsh fluorescent lights showed no mercy, reflecting off the mirrors that lined every wall. CORTIS had been running their dance break for five hours straight.
"One more time from the second chorus!" James shouted, his voice hoarse but commanding.
Seonghyeon wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his eyes instinctively darting to the mirror. He wasn't checking his form. He was looking for Keonho.
In the reflection, he saw the younger boy leaning over, hands on his knees, gasping for air. Before Seonghyeon could even think about stepping toward him with a water bottle, Martin was already there. Martin slung an arm around Keonho’s shoulders, shaking him playfully to keep his energy up. Keonho looked up and flashed Martin a bright, tired grin—the kind of grin that used to be reserved exclusively for Seonghyeon.
Seonghyeon looked away, a sharp, cold knot tightening in his chest.
It was December 20th. Exactly one year ago, they had been trainees huddled in a cramped, unheated practice room, sharing a single puffer jacket between them to stay warm. Back then, Keonho had been like a shadow, always tucked under Seonghyeon’s arm, whispering about how scared he was that he wouldn’t make the debut lineup. Seonghyeon had spent that entire Christmas season promising him they’d make it together.
Now they were CORTIS. They were successful. They had the world’s attention. And somehow, in the middle of all that noise, Keonho had drifted to the other side of the room.
"Okay, that’s a wrap for tonight," a staff finally announced, clapping his hands. "Everyone back to the dorm.”
While the other members scrambled for their bags, Seonghyeon lingered, slowly peeling the tape off his fingers. He watched Keonho out of the corner of his eye. Usually, Keonho would wait for him. They would walk to the van together, arguing about what convenience store snack to buy.
"Keonho-ya, you coming?" Juhoon called out.
"Yeah! Just a second," Keonho shouted back. He didn't even glance at Seonghyeon. He grabbed his backpack and headed straight for the door, falling into step with Juhoon and Martin, their voices fading as they headed toward the elevators.
Seonghyeon stood alone in the center of the empty studio. The silence was deafening. He—being an INFP—prided himself on being able to analyze any situation with logic. But there was no logic here. Only a hollow ache that felt dangerously like grief.
The van ride back to the dorm was quiet, the members drifting off to sleep against the windows. Seonghyeon sat in the very back row, staring at the back of Keonho’s head three rows ahead.
A while ago, Seonghyeon had deliberately took the back row, hoping Keonho would follow. For a second, it looked like he would. Keonho paused at the door of the van, his hand on the handle, looking at the empty seat next to Seonghyeon.
Seonghyeon’s heart hammered against his ribs. Sit here. Just for twenty minutes. Let’s just be us again.
"Keonho-ya! Over here, I want to show you the rough cut of the teaser!" Martin called out from the middle row.
Keonho hesitated. He looked at Seonghyeon for a fraction of a second—a look that was unreadable, almost pained—before he turned away. "Coming, Hyung!"
He slid into the seat next to Martin.
Now, Keonho was leaning against Martin’s shoulder, his eyes closed.
Seonghyeon turned his head toward the window, staring at the blurred lights of Seoul. The Christmas decorations were everywhere—garlands wrapped around lampposts, neon trees in shop windows. It was supposed to be the most together time of the year, but Seonghyeon had never felt more alone.
Why is he doing this? Seonghyeon wondered, his reflection in the glass looking tired and pale.
Last week, they had been fine. Or at least, Seonghyeon thought they were. But over the last five days, Keonho had become a ghost. He didn't sit next to Seonghyeon at meals anymore. He didn't ask for feedback on his lyric drafts. He didn't even make eye contact.
The jealousy was a physical weight. It wasn't just that Keonho was spending time with the others; it was the way he was doing it. It felt intentional. It felt like Keonho was building a wall, brick by brick, and Seonghyeon was being left on the outside in the cold.
As much as he tried to deny it, Seonghyeon knew this wasn't just brotherly concern. You don't feel like your heart is being shredded when a close friend sits with someone else. You don't memorize the exact way the light hits the bridge of a best friend’s nose.
He pulled his hoodie strings tight, trying to disappear into the fabric. He was in love with him. He had been for a long time. And the thought that Keonho might have finally noticed—and was disgusted by it—was enough to make Seonghyeon demand the driver stop the car so he could walk the rest of the way in the freezing cold..
When they reached the dorm, the members shuffled inside, half-delirious with exhaustion.
"I'm taking the first shower," Martin announced, heading for the bathroom.
Seonghyeon dropped his bag by the sofa. He saw Keonho heading toward the kitchen to get water. This was his chance. Just a simple question. A check-in.
He followed him. The kitchen was dim, lit only by the light from the open refrigerator. Keonho was standing there, staring at the shelves as if he’d forgotten why he opened the door.
"Keonho-ya."
Keonho jumped, nearly dropping the water pitcher. He turned around, his eyes wide and startled. "Hyeon. You scared me."
"Sorry." Seonghyeon stayed by the doorway, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. "You’ve been... really busy lately."
Keonho took a quick sip of water, his eyes darting toward the exit. "Yeah. End of the year, you know? Rehearsals are intense."
"It's not just the rehearsals," Seonghyeon said, his voice dropping an octave. He stepped into the kitchen, the small space suddenly feeling much smaller. "You haven't said more than ten words to me since Monday. Did I do something? If I was too hard on you during the vocal check, I'm sorry."
"It's not that," Keonho said quickly. Too quickly. He placed the water pitcher on the counter with a loud clack. "I'm just tired, Seonghyeon. Everyone is."
"You don't seem too tired to hang out with Martin and Juhoon," Seonghyeon countered. The words tasted bitter. "You were laughing with them all day. But the second I walk into a room, you stop talking. You won't even look at me."
Keonho gripped the edge of the marble counter so hard his knuckles turned white. He still wouldn't meet Seonghyeon’s eyes. "You're overthinking it. You always overthink things. That's your problem."
"My problem?" Seonghyeon felt a spark of genuine anger through the sadness. "My problem is that my best friend is acting like I’m a stranger. We spent last Christmas practically attached at the hip. Now I feel like I have to make an appointment just to get you to look at me."
Keonho finally looked up. His expression wasn't one of anger—it was one of pure, raw panic. His chest was heaving, and for a second, Seonghyeon thought he might cry.
"Maybe I don't want to look at you!" Keonho snapped, his voice trembling.
The words hit Seonghyeon like a physical blow. He froze, the air leaving his lungs. "What?"
Keonho’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He looked trapped, cornered by the very person he was trying to avoid. "I just... I need space, okay? Can't you just give me some space?"
Without waiting for an answer, Keonho brushed past him, his shoulder clipping Seonghyeon’s as he bolted out of the kitchen.
Seonghyeon stood alone in the dark kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound in the room. The rejection felt absolute. He had pushed, and Keonho had pushed back—hard.
He walked over to the kitchen window, looking out at the snow falling over the city. Five days until Christmas. Last year, they had made a promise to always be together.
Now, Seonghyeon had never felt further away.