Archive of Our Own

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Is this Sungho's fault?

It isn’t, is it? It isn’t his fault Dongmin feels this way. Hell, it could've been something inevitable. It could've been someone else entirely, could've been any of the other four. The proximity is the exact same.

The thought of Dongmin doing this with anyone other than Sungho makes something gross bubble up in the back of his throat, but he pretends not to feel it.

He flips the script. If not him, then who? Who else could've made Dongmin this miserable?

No one else could see it. Dongmin was hiding a lot back then, still is. And Sungho, ever perceptive and soft-hearted, saw his cowardice and took it upon himself to be brave enough for the both of them. He pushed when Dongmin pulled. He's the one who took note of this latent, insufferable need that Dongmin had in him, this craving to be looked at and desired and touched by someone just like him. It just so happened that, on top of seeing this in him, Sungho was also so painfully similar. He felt Dongmin boring holes into the back of his skull and knew exactly how it felt to be on the other end of it. He knew what it was like to window shop; he knew what it was like to see something you wanted only to come up with empty pockets.

That's probably why he acquiesced in the first place. He saw Dongmin practically begging for attention– how could he say no to that when everybody else was?– and it was then that he made his first mistake. Letting this get to him was one huge mistake.

It started easy, simple. They'd stand against the wall in the practice room and talk. Hometown, childhood, high school, pets, family, dreams, aspirations, more practice; Sungho admittedly knew a lot of this at that time in their life, but he took in every little detail he didn’t know before and stored it deep inside the part of his brain labeled “Important”. He took the bait, too, until talking to Dongmin felt more familiar than breaking away to run through their choreography again. Mistake number one.

Mistake number two was taking it outside the practice room. The vocal room was far, and outside the building was even farther. Just down the road, then the convenience store, then outside Dongmin’s door. It's like Sungho couldn't control his own feet. He remembers standing outside in the cold and feeling the hot air radiating from the inside of Dongmin’s dorm and wishing he could barge in and stay the night instead of taking the flight of stairs down to his own. He didn’t, because that would be wrong, but he could see in Dongmin’s face that he wanted him to. If he had really done that, Dongmin would've let him.

The third mistake comes when they're alone. All these places they've been before, they've never really been alone. They talk and air out the things they've been needing to say to someone who'll get it, but it’s never deathly personal or anything like that. They both have half the mind to keep private information to themselves; no venting your deepest, darkest secrets to other trainees.

But Dongmin slips.

They're tucked in an alley between the convenience store and another building, hiding and taking as much time as they can get before their feet are dragged back to the squeaky practice room floor. Dongmin had been off, like his mind was somewhere else entirely, and while Sungho wasn’t sure he'd consider them “friends”, he was still observant enough to pick up on subtle changes like that. He didn’t ask, but Dongmin answered anyway.

He'd gone out with some of his school friends. They did normal high-school boy things, talked about normal high-school boy stuff. They have normal high-school boy mindsets. 

But when they told some offhanded joke about Dongmin being gay, he said it really surprised him. They know he likes girls. He's had plenty of girlfriends before. He’s not gay, but…

“What's wrong with that?” He'd mumbled, quiet and muffled under his own breath. He said the pause between them speaking and them bursting into laughter hurt worse than anything. They just… looked at him, like he said something ridiculous. And it hurt. It hurt a lot.

He explained to Sungho that he isn't gay, but that’s not the problem. The problem is– he– he didn’t think they were like that. And maybe that’s his fault, for being too naive or purposefully overlooking the obvious, that kids his age are like that, more often than not, but he never… It never crossed his mind that maybe his friends were the exact type of people he wanted to avoid.

Listening to this, Sungho saw it again. Something Dongmin would never say, something he thought nobody could see, either. He’s vulnerable. He’s young. They only have an age gap of eleven months, but Sungho learned this lesson much earlier than Dongmin had. He probably looked very sad, because Dongmin forced out a bitter laugh. 

“I mean, it's not like… y'know. They weren't just trying to be mean. They weren't seeing something that wasn't there.”

Sungho's stomach twisted. “Don’t,” he whispered, then firmer, “Don’t.”

Dongmin’s shoulders tensed. Sungho knew that he knew why this was a bad idea, but he didn't listen. He scoffed and hung his head a little lower.

“You don’t have to tell anyone I'm bisexual. I just want to say it at least once.”

Sungho remembers not being able to inhale for a few seconds, like he’d been winded. It wasn’t surprise, necessarily, that knocked the breath out of him– this was something he had come to terms with a long time ago. Dongmin never had to tell him, but he did, and that was probably the worst thing he could've done.

The silence was cold. Dongmin’s breath came out in puffs of white. He looked like he might throw up.

“... I didn’t mean to bring you into this. I'm sorry, hyung. You can forget it.”

Dongmin doesn't cry, but if there's one thing Sungho can recall from that night, it's the gloss over his eyes. Vulnerable. Pitiful, like a little kid confessing that he did something bad.

His bottom lip wobbled. “You don’t understand what it feels like. I can’t expect you to understand that. But, uh… Thanks, I guess. For hearing me out.”

There were a million things Sungho wanted to say. For some reason, after an inappropriate pause, he settled on, “Your friends are real dickheads.” It wasn't anything close to what he wanted to get out– it's okay, I understand, I'm like that, too– but it made Dongmin laugh and kept his tears from spilling over, so it was good enough. For now, anyway. And that was mistake number three.

It's not like much changes from an outside perspective. They still talk. They still walk. They still wake up every morning and practice and go home just to do it all over again. But there’s something brewing. A quiet discontent, a rift threatening something terrible. There's a catastrophe on the horizon.

Dongmin snaps at him one day. Someone says something about the newest trainee Myung Jaehyun looking handsome, more than usual. Sungho knows that Myung Jaehyun is probably queer in some regard, and because of that, as soon as it's said, his gaze shoots to Dongmin. His brain makes that connection before he can even recognize that Dongmin’s eyes are trained on him instead. When their eyes meet, Sungho leans into it. He points his gaze to Jaehyun, as if to say, “What do you think?”, like he has the jurisdiction to offer him up. Dongmin’s eyebrows rise, like he can’t believe what Sungho's implying. Then he scoffs and turns away and says some obvious excuse about needing to use the restroom. When he leaves the practice room, he heads in the wrong direction.

Sungho finds him in an empty vocal room. He's sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest and his head down like a toddler in timeout. Sungho's nauseous, but he locks the door behind him and slides down the wall next to Dongmin. Their positions mirror each other in a way that seems cruel. Sungho's never had to deal with this because he's always kept his private business private. That's just how he's always been. Dongmin, though, is clearly different. He wants to be loud. He feels like he has nothing to hide, as if their entire lives won't be centered around secrecy. For Sungho to copy him as he is now, miserable and out like Sungho can’t be, is fucked up. Maybe he’s just a little fucked up.

Their shoulders brush and Dongmin pulls away from it. He curls in on himself further and it makes Sungho want to die. He didn’t mean it. 

He should probably say something, but nothing he could force out of his mouth would make anything better.

Someone's calling for him in the hall; he did turn tail and sprint out of the room without a word. Whoever it is isn’t close to the room yet, but Dongmin lifts his face from his arms and looks at the door. “You should go,” he mutters. Sungho frowns and digs his fingertips into the meat of his arm. 

“I don't want to yet.”

Dongmin’s brows furrow and he huffs through his nose. “That was me trying to tell you to fuck off without hurting your feelings.”

It would be inappropriate to laugh, so Sungho keeps it in. “Hurt my feelings. I want you to.” He turns his head to rest against his arms and face Dongmin. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Dongmin’s ears are a little red. He bites his lip like he has something to say, but nothing comes out. It's Sungho who needs to be talking, anyway.

“I'm sorry,” he begins. “I didn’t think about it.”

“Fucking clearly. I'm just– I'm so pissed off at you, I can hardly stand it. I didn’t expect that and I didn’t expect to get this angry about it but it’s like I can’t control it.” Quieter, he adds, “... I just didn't think it'd be you.”

Sungho swallows the guilt swelling in his throat. It hurts on the way down. “I didn’t think it'd be me, either.”

Dongmin scoffs. “Yeah,” he huffs. “Yeah.”

They're quiet again as footsteps and an echoing voice pass in front of the door. Neither of them want to be found, not yet. 

“I didn’t mean it that way. You know that, right?” 

Dongmin nods, but it’s sad. It doesn’t make Sungho feel much better at all.

“Can you blame me for thinking you might?” Dongmin asks, picking at the frayed ends of his jacket sleeves. “You never know what’s gonna come out of someone’s mouth. I probably should, but I… I just don’t trust you yet. So don’t do that again.”

Sungho huffs out a dry laugh. “You ‘don’t trust me yet’, but you’re the one who told me you like guys in the first place.” He can tell Dongmin’s getting prickly, so he softens his tone. “We aren’t even supposed to be talking about these things. This is why.”

“It’s not like it affects you,” Dongmin snaps. “Or them, or anybody else. It’s my stupid fucking problem that I have to deal with. You just have to coexist with it.”

The sick feeling in Sungho’s stomach resurfaces. 

“You don’t know them, and you don’t know me, either. That’s how it’s supposed to be. There’s a reason I’m not airing out my business to anyone who’ll listen.” Subconsciously, he brings his fingers up to his mouth and chews on his nail. “Not that I think you’d go broadcasting it to the world or anything, but there’s a reason we don’t talk about stuff like this.”

Dongmin sighs harsh and heavy through his nose. “Y’know what? I shouldn't have brought this up to you in the first place. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s not that I’m upset you told me,” Sungho quickly interjects. “I’m kinda flattered, I guess, that you felt like you could trust me with that. I-It’s just hard, y’know? To do all of this and still be normal about it.”

“... Are you worried about me?”

Sungho lifts his head off his arms. “Huh?”

“You just… sound like you’re really worried about me. Are you?”

“... No,” he lies. “No, I think you’ll be fine.”

Dongmin hides his face in his knees. “I won’t be,” he murmurs. “I’m not.”

Sungho’s teeth cut through his fingernail. “Me neither.”

A groan is muffled in Dongmin’s arms. “Look, I appreciate you a lot, but can you please stop acting like we’re in the same boat here?”

Sungho’s chewing is starting to hurt. “... Dongmin, you haven’t even asked me what kind of boat I’m in.”

“You’re not gay. You’re– you’re just not. You don’t feel the same way I do.”

“I am.” Sungho bites down a little too far; the space right under his nail is red and raw. “I do.”

Dongmin stills. Sungho can see the way his body shakes, even under the jacket he’s hiding in. He’s shaking, too, but it’s all fear. 

The silence makes Sungho feel like he might actually throw up. He shouldn’t have said that.

“... You–”

“I’m not gay.” Sungho blurts. “Not, like, gay gay, but I do, y’know… like men… and stuff. B-But I like girls, too. I’m, uh… like you, I guess. Bisexual. I guess.”

He hasn’t just shot himself in the foot. He’s unloaded the whole damn magazine. 

It’s being vulnerable like this that’s gonna cost Sungho his entire career, but the way Dongmin lifts his head to properly look at him for the first time since they’ve locked themselves in here makes it a little more worth it. His eyes are rimmed red and exhausted, but there’s a little more light in them. The more he thinks about it, the more Sungho realizes that maybe that’s all Dongmin needed to hear. That he’s not alone here, that not all guys their age are homophobic assholes, that they’re both just as fucked up over the same exact thing. The only difference is that Sungho never in his life expected those words to come out of his mouth. 

Dongmin hasn’t said anything yet. Sungho can’t stomach the quiet any longer.

“So… I’m sorry. That was weird. I got that. I won’t do it again.”

No answer. Barely even a blink.

“... Hyung. You’re, like. Actually bi?”

Sungho’s so uncomfortable. He thinks about slamming his head into the keyboard just to end this relentless torture he’s being subjected to. He switches to a different nail. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Dongmin turns to look at the door. His expression would be hilarious, if Sungho wasn’t spiraling over the fact that he just did the number one thing he said he’d never do– and yet, despite his impending meltdown, Sungho finds that he’s glad it was Dongmin.

He’s not a hugger, but he opens his arms for one anyway. He feels bad. 

Dongmin isn’t a hugger either, but he still approaches Sungho– slowly, he notes– and humors his pitifully loose embrace. It barely feels like anything, but it’s not bad. It’s better than not touching at all. 

Sungho thinks about how lonely Dongmin’s probably been. He knows it’s been bad for him because he’s been worse. Dongmin has friends, both here and outside of their small group of trainees. Sungho has Sanghyuk on a good day, his bed on the worst. For Dongmin to feel ostracized sounds like a cruel joke when you put him next to Sungho. He’s different, though, in the sense that this is all he’s known. He’s used to living in a bottle, while Dongmin is itching to break the glass and spill out into the real world. He doesn’t find any comfort in being contained. 

This whole time, he was under the impression that he didn’t know anyone else like him. Sungho knew from the beginning. He tightens his grip on Dongmin’s shoulder. 

Dongmin makes a quiet, confused noise in the back of his throat, but he does what he thinks Sungho’s telling him to do and hugs him tighter. They’re almost fully facing each other now, and while you’d expect the circumstance to prompt some sort of deeply emotional and cathartic connection between the two of them, it just feels kinda… weird. It’s too quiet. No one’s crying and nothing’s really been resolved, necessarily, and they’re both too tense to relax in each other’s arms. But they’re hugging for the first time (if Sungho’s memory serves him right) and it isn’t terrible.

Sungho’s not really sure what they are at this point. “Friends” seems a little too close, but acquaintances wouldn’t do all this, either. They kind of work together? But no, “coworkers” is even further from what they’ve got going on. There’s camaraderie of some sort here, but friendship might be pushing it. They’re just… Sungho and Dongmin, he guesses. Dongmin who smells really good when they’re this close together and Sungho who tries really hard to ignore it. 

They don’t make much eye contact when they pull apart. They sit there for a second, breathing it all in, before Sungho sighs and pushes himself to his feet. He offers Dongmin his hand, but he chooses to grab his forearm instead. 

“Y’know,” Dongmin speaks up as he’s dusting off his pants, “now that I know you’re gay, I can finally confess something to you.”

Sungho pauses. He blinks several times in quick succession, a nervous habit. “W-What?”

Dongmin smirks. “Myung Jaehyun is totally into you, dude.”

That presents a new problem. 

Jaehyun is nice. He’s handsome, too, but everybody knows that. On top of it all, he’s definitely queer. From a logical, outside perspective, he’s kind of perfect. Perfect for Sungho.

A part of him feels like he’s supposed to feel something for Jaehyun, some sort of obligation to be attracted to him because he sounds like the ideal man on paper. The reality is a little different, though, because Sungho doesn’t find himself stuttering or fantasizing or pining like he should be. Whether Jaehyun’s actually into him or not is irrelevant– what matters is how Sungho feels, and he feels like Jaehyun could be a really good friend. 

They start talking more, but it’s nothing like Sungho was worried it might be. Jaehyun’s normal. When Dongmin said something about him being so obviously attracted to Sungho, he was worried it might affect their ability to be normal around each other. Luckily, Sungho doesn’t feel anything other than platonic interest, and he convinces himself that Dongmin was overthinking things.

Even as Jaehyun starts to exhibit his love for skinship and flirting and general closeness, Sungho doesn’t feel anything. Nothing. Nothing at all.

Which is strange, because usually, when a beautiful man starts showing even the slightest bit of interest in him, he starts to freak out a bit. But not this time. 

So, is this an identity crisis? 

Sungho wittles his nails down thinking about it. It’s been a few weeks and he can’t stop agonizing over whether his attraction to men was a lie or a phase or if maybe his type’s just changed. Jaehyun is sickeningly handsome and taller than him and sweet and funny and ridiculously talented. A few months ago, he probably would’ve tripped over his own feet running to him. Now he’s just… romantically indifferent. That’s probably not good, is it?

But then… then he sees other people. Other men. Men with dark hair and fake brooding attitudes who can’t help but play the stupidest pranks on the other trainees just because. Men who wear band tees and sweat through them during practice. Men with pretty arms and pretty legs and pretty lips. Men who he feels nothing for, but that he can’t take his eyes off of. Men he admires from a distance and realizes “yeah, I’m still gay”.

Maybe his type has changed. Maybe he likes emo boys with rotten personalities. That’s cool.

He can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong, though. He’s running out of fingernails to bite. 

He’s sitting against the wall and zoning out and starting on his thumb when a body slides down next to his. The cap to a water bottle snaps open and then there’s gulping not far from his ear. 

“You okay?” Dongmin asks. Sungho doesn’t blink, just nods a little and gives a quiet affirmative hum. He can see Dongmin shuffle around in his periphery.

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“Quit biting your nails.”

Sungho startles out of his trance and promptly places his hand back in his lap. Right. That’s a bad habit for an idol to have.

Dongmin breathes out a quiet laugh, and as Sungho turns his gaze to him, he’s pleased to see him smiling. “Sorry,” he says, though he’s not really sure what he’s sorry for. Dongmin shrugs and shifts his attention to the rest of the room. He nods his head towards Jaehyun, who’s currently standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Sanghyuk as they inspect their faces in the mirror. “You two have been talking a lot.”

That’s what most of their conversations have been about these days. Not work, not friends or family, just Myung Jaehyun. Sungho understands Dongmin’s rooting for him, but he’s delusional. He tells him as much, but he just shakes his head and ignores it. It’s no different this time around. 

“Will you drop it?” Sungho sighs. Dongmin grins and rests his head against the wall. 

“Why? Are you embarrassed?” 

Sungho narrows his eyes at him. “Are you?”

Dongmin scoffs. “Why would I be embarrassed? You’re the one who’s being dense. He’s constantly eyeing you like a piece of meat.”

Sungho’s ears start to burn. “Not once have I thought that about him. I’m seriously not interested.”

An idea occurs to him. “You’re not interested in him, are you?”

Dongmin’s face gets a little pinker. “No. We haven’t even talked that much. Plus, if I was into him, why would I try to get you two together?” It’s a reasonable argument, but he seems nervous. Sungho doesn’t know whether to believe him or not. He’s tired of talking about this, though, so he just sighs and drops the topic altogether. “How’s vocal training?”

“Bad.” Dongmin answers curtly. Sungho snorts. 

“You’re being hard on yourself again.”

Dongmin lets out a dramatic sigh and launches into some spiel about perfectionism and being overworked and how uncooperative his tone is. Sungho listens, he does, but his eyes focus in on Jaehyun. Because his shirt is halfway up his stomach. Because he’s sweaty and pushing Sanghyuk around and laughing like he just said the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Because he locks eyes with Sungho and for just a split second he thinks he might see what Dongmin’s talking about. It makes his stomach feel weird. 

His wrist is roughly yanked away from his mouth. When did he start biting again?

“You’re bleeding,” Dongmin chides. “How did you do that?” Sungho looks down and, sure enough, the tip of his thumb is beading red. Sungho blinks, confused. He hadn’t even felt it. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. Dongmin rolls his eyes in faux annoyance and lifts him to his feet. 

“Let’s go wash it. You’ll get mouth germs in there.”

Sungho frowns and pops his thumb into his mouth. “I can just suck it off,” he murmurs, but lets himself be led to the bathroom anyway. 

He stands against the wall next to the sink as Dongmin turns it on and waits for the water to heat up just a bit. “To kill the bacteria,” he explains. 

“You’re an expert on cleaning wounds. Like a personal EMT.”

Dongmin laughs and runs his fingers under the faucet. “I’ve never doctored you before.”

Sungho sits up a little. “That’s not true. You helped me when I skinned my knee on the sidewalk.” It was icy and he slipped and tore his skin open like an idiot. Dongmin helped him hobble back to the company building and scrounged together some bandages from a stash in a practice room cabinet. Injuries aren’t uncommon, but being treated is, and Dongmin did a good job. He lifts his head and shakes the water from his hand. “Ah, right. I forgot.” He steps aside and gestures for Sungho to take his place.

It stings a little when the water hits Sungho’s thumb, but the heat feels nice, too. Dongmin hovers close by, as if Sungho will somehow fuck up washing his hands. He normally wouldn’t spend too much time making sure his hands are as clean as humanly possible, but with Dongmin watching, he makes sure to take his time. By the time he’s shut the water off, his thumb is clean and has finally stopped bleeding. It hurts and it’s red and angry, but it’s better.

“Good?” Dongmin asks as Sungho dries his hands. Sungho nods and inspects the tiny wound. He chewed too far down. 

Sungho turns to leave, but Dongmin’s standing there with his arms crossed, looking discontent. He freezes in his tracks and returns to rest against the wall instead. “What’s got you all pissy?” His tone is light, just in case Dongmin’s genuinely upset over something. 

“... I don’t like Jaehyun like that.”

He’s kinda surprised Dongmin’s still on that. “Oh… Okay. I believe you.”

That’s not enough. Dongmin’s still frowning. 

“I don’t like him like that either, by the way. While we’re on the topic.” Dongmin’s frown deepens and clearly that was the wrong thing to say. 

“You were ogling him the whole time we were talking.”

Sungho bristles. “I was not! I was just zoning out.” Dongmin squints. “I swear.”

“Why are you so hung up on this, anyway? You said yourself you don’t like him.”

Dongmin’s nose wrinkles like a cat. “... Dunno. Probably because I can tell how badly he wants you.” Sungho huffs out an irritated laugh and rolls his eyes. 

“Give it a break, Dongmin! It’s not happening.”

“You promise?”

Sungho falters. What a weird thing to promise. “Yeah. I promise.”

Dongmin’s shoulders relax and Sungho wishes he knew why. 

When they get back, Jaehyun’s practically shirtless. He makes a pointed effort not to look. 

It’s only until everyone’s gone home that Sungho can breathe. It’s just him and Dongmin again. They’d never admit it, but they get lonely without each other. Dongmin must like Sungho’s company, and Sungho just likes any company at all. It’s mutually beneficial.

It also helps that Sungho’s a little more vocally advanced than Dongmin is, so he can guide him on the things he’s been fretting over. Sungho’s sitting on the floor by choice this time; he forfeited the chair to Dongmin, but he’s not even using it. It’s probably better if he stands, anyway. 

Sungho thinks it’s kinda funny how distraught Dongmin was over this when he’s so nice to listen to. There are a few pointers to give, sure, but Sungho’s no vocal expert, either. He can hear certain nuances and pick up on things that need to improve, but he can’t exactly instruct Dongmin on how to fix them. What he can do, though, is close his eyes and listen to his voice and relax for an hour or two.

He might’ve dozed off. There’s a gap in his memory between Dongmin asking for feedback and then suddenly kneeling in front of him and shaking him back to consciousness. “Hyung,” he calls, sounding frustrated. “Have you been listening at all?” Sungho lifts his head and mumbles groggily. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. ‘S good.” Dongmin clicks his tongue and Sungho can practically feel his patience slipping away. He stands back up and his lack of presence makes Sungho open his eyes all the way.

“Let’s just go home,” he mutters, turning his attention to the exit. Sungho feels bad. 

“No, it’s okay. It was good, really. So good I… dozed off.” He adds a little quieter, “You have a really nice voice.”

Dongmin pauses. He swallows and, still looking at the door, resumes his kneeling position. “... Really?”

He’s bashful. That’s a new look on him. Sungho thinks he likes it.

He nods and picks idly at the carpet. “Yeah. I don’t know what you were so worried about.” Dongmin can’t meet his gaze, but Sungho can tell he’s enjoying the compliments. His ears are even a little pink. He smiles and pokes his leg with his foot. “It’s not like you to ask for help, either. Did they say something to you?”

Dongmin shrugs. “Not really. I’ve just been feeling kinda weird about my voice recently. About my everything. I dunno.” He speaks with a pout and it reminds Sungho that there is an age gap between them. Not a large one, but it’s enough to make Sungho think he’s cute. He’s like a kid sometimes. 

Again, Sungho doesn’t love skinship, and he never initiates it, but his body moves before he can tell it not to. His hand plants itself on Dongmin’s head and aggressively ruffles his already disheveled hair. Predictably, Dongmin shouts and reaches up to wrestle Sungho’s hand away, but the damage is already done. When he catches Sungho by the wrist and pries him off, his hair is sticking up in all different directions. Sungho grins. That was actually kinda fun– it feels like, somehow, his impromptu nap put him in a playful mood.

He tries to go back in, just to piss him off a little more, but Dongmin doesn’t let him. The moment he feels some resistance, he pushes back. “Stop it, hyung,” he bites, uncharacteristically harsh. Maybe he isn’t used to being the one played with. He’s always up to something, always scoping out his next target for whatever prank he wants to play next. He can dish it, but he can’t take it. 

Sungho scrunches his nose and laughs a little. He thinks it’d be fun to push this a little further, so he twists his arm and attempts to wiggle out of Dongmin’s grip. Despite his own retaliation, Sungho catches Dongmin fighting back a grin of his own. 

Their wrestling is pointless. Dongmin is just a little bigger than Sungho, but he’s a little stronger, too, and he’s not up against a wall like Sungho is. It doesn’t take much at all for him to regain control and nail Sungho’s wrist to the cold surface just next to his head. Sungho gives in fairly easy; he doesn’t even try with his other hand, because he knows how that will end up, too.

He’s tired. Now that he’s exerted a little energy, he can feel it even stronger. It’s like there are weights on his eyelids and a thick fog turning his brain to syrup. In his sleepy delirium, he manages to meet Dongmin’s gaze. Dongmin, who’s so close now that Sungho can feel every wave of heat radiate off of him. When he blinks, he can feel a gust of air on his face. His breath ghosts against his cheeks. He’s seeing this and, in his sleepy delirium, he doesn’t immediately turn away.

Sungho can’t even catch his breath like this. Not when Dongmin’s just a few centimeters away. Not when he’s putting his weight on his wrist. Not when he’s definitely moving closer. His chest hurts. How is he supposed to breathe?

Their noses brush and Sungho finally manages to inhale. He turns his head down and breaks any contact they had. 

“I’m… tired.” His words are a little slurred. He blames it on exhaustion and not on his brain momentarily shutting down because there’s a pretty boy hovering an inch from his mouth. Dongmin lingers for a moment like he’s taking it all in. He breathes in through his nose and releases Sungho’s wrist. 

Dongmin sits back on his heels. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Sure.” He turns to grab his bag off the back of the chair and slings it carelessly over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

The walk home was quiet. The following week was worse. They don’t talk. They don’t even look at each other, really. It’s weird. It feels wrong.

It’s probably for the best– that’s what Sungho would’ve thought a month or two ago, anyway. Now, he feels like he’s lost something really important. 

They’re doing live vocal training when Sungho decides it’s time for him to be brave again. 

Dongmin finishes his stint and finds solace in the cold sturdiness of the wall. Sungho’s out of his mind when he slides up next to him. He spares one glance at Dongmin’s face– turned away and ignoring him on purpose, he knows– before saying, “You sounded really good.”

Dongmin looks at him and Sungho’s heart nearly flies out of his throat when he sees that his entire face has turned bright red. He glances between Sungho and the floor and then back again. “Oh. Um… thanks.” Sungho finds himself growing warm, too. He wrings his hands together.

This quiet always seems to haunt them. If they don’t fill it, it suffocates them. 

Just when it starts to get unbearable, Dongmin groans and shoves his face in his hands. “Eurgh… Sorry.”

Sungho doesn’t ask what he’s apologizing for. He just scoots a little closer. With their shoulders touching, it’s like he’s saying, “It’s okay”.

It’s not. It’s not okay. None of this is. Sungho’s lost count of how many mistakes he’s made so far. He’s gotta be pushing fifty, at least.

It’s like he can’t quit. He’s drawn to Dongmin like a tragic magnet. Out of everyone here, he’s the one person who knows Sungho’s secret, and that’s a comfort he can’t afford to get out of anyone else. They don’t even talk about it, necessarily, but being able to make eye contact and say something that no one else will understand feels good. It’s selfish and a terrible idea but his claws have sunk in too deep to let go– not without drawing blood, anyway.

He knows he’s fucked when a few days later, Dongmin suggests spending time together alone. To practice. Alone. That’s what started this whole disaster. Of course he doesn’t say no. 

In Sungho’s defense, they do practice, but it isn’t for very long. They take a quick break from dancing to stretch some more because Dongmin’s already on the verge of pulling something. It doesn’t hurt to be thorough; Sungho knows that, and Dongmin does, too, but this was something Sungho was trying to avoid. When Dongmin stretches, he stretches. He pulls his back taut like a bow and spreads his legs and touches the floor and reaches his arms up to the ceiling to tug his muscles into pretty perfect lines. And he’s sweaty now, too, on top of it all. Great. 

Sungho tries not to look, but he’s right in front of him. This is why he asked Dongmin to warm up while he went to the restroom– he can’t stand being confronted with his desires so plainly. It kind of makes him feel sick. He’s ashamed of himself.

He plants his hands on his knees and pushes them back. It hurts, but it’s satisfying, and he’s forced to look at the floor in this position. He squeezes his eyes shut and counts to ten hoping that, maybe, just maybe, Dongmin will be done by the time he looks back up.

Unfortunately, Dongmin’s staring straight at him. At his arms. At his neck. At the bead of sweat rolling down his hairline. He’s flushed, but it’s not from exercising. 

Once Sungho manages to shake the hair from his face, they lock eyes. The silence hangs heavy, as it always does. 

For once, Sungho doesn’t panic. He doesn’t know where this sudden composure comes from– the need to ignore what's very clearly in front of him and pretend it isn't happening, maybe– but like he hasn’t noticed a thing, he straightens up and walks right past Dongmin. He bends down to pick up his water bottle from the floor and he can feel Dongmin watching him the entire time. He doesn’t perform, doesn’t exaggerate any movements, just takes a drink and tries senselessly to fix his hair in the mirror. “Are you about ready?” He asks without so much as glancing at Dongmin. He’s right there, his reflection is in the mirror just to the left of Sungho’s head. It takes a lot of restraint.

“A-Actually,” he begins, uncharacteristically timid, “my phone just died. We might have to call it.”

Sungho turns all the way back around and takes on a more serious tone. “You didn’t bring a charger?”

Dongmin shakes his head. “I didn’t think about it. Yours doesn’t work for my phone, does it…?”

Sungho frowns. It doesn’t. 

“Oh!” He exclaims. “The closet. There’s a few stashed in there.”

Dongmin visibly brightens. He jogs to the other side of the room and opens the closet door. As he releases the handle, he goes for his phone, presumably to use the flashlight, only to remember why he’s looking in the closet in the first place. He looks back to Sungho with a pitiful expression. “Hyung…”

Sungho sighs and grabs his phone from its resting place on the floor. He gets the flashlight on by the time he reaches Dongmin’s side. “Go on. I’ll help you look.”

It’s not a big closet, and with only one light source, they have to contort in strange ways to be able to see. They stand shoulder-to-shoulder at first, then back-to-back, then Sungho decides that they should probably look behind the door, too. When he gets that shut, it’s much darker. They’re a lot closer now, and there’s no charger. They’re toe-to-toe and empty-handed.

Sungho sighs. It smells like dust and Dongmin in here. 

Dongmin does one final sweep like it’ll count for something, but of course, he doesn’t find anything they haven’t already seen. “Thanks for helping me look. I’ll just tough it out.”

“You sure? We can go home for the night, I don’t mind.”

“No, no,” Dongmin reassures as he reaches for the door. “It’s okay. Let’s keep going.”

He pushes forward, but a little too forward, because Sungho’s phone and their only source of light gets knocked right out of his hand and clatters to the floor. Even worse, they both move to recover it at the exact same time, and instead of doing anything useful, their heads collide in a painful knock of bone. Sungho yanks away with a yelp. The back of his head bumps into a shelf.

Dongmin doesn’t know whether to go for the phone or Sungho first. “Shit, I’m sorry–” He fumbles for a moment before settling both his hands on Sungho’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Sungho holds his forehead and nods. “Yeah. Sorry. Are you?”

“Fine,” Dongmin huffs. “I’m hard-headed.” One of his hands leaves Sungho and instead fumbles around behind him. “What did you even hit back here?” 

Sungho groans, but he can’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. “The shelf.”

Dongmin squeezes his shoulder and ghosts his fingers over the knot forming on Sungho’s head. “It doesn’t feel like you’re bleeding…” Sungho winces and laughs. “I didn’t think I was.”

The room is barely illuminated, but Sungho can still see Dongmin pout. “I just wanted to check.”

Sungho’s stomach swims with a warm, pleasant feeling. It’s weird. It’s kind of gross, too. “... Thanks.”

…

… …

… … …

“Um.”

Dongmin speaks first this time. That’s rare.

“I… don’t think I want to practice anymore. I think I just– I don’t know– I wanna stay here.”

Sungho gets it. He knows what he means. His face feels like it’s been set on fire. “... We don’t have to go anywhere,” he murmurs.

Would it be appropriate to touch him back? That’s the real question here. There’s only one way to find out.

Sungho’s hands come to rest lightly on Dongmin’s hips and just that tiny bit of contact has him full-body shivering beneath Sungho’s palms. He doesn’t pull away, though, or make a weird face. He just slips the tips of his fingers between a few strands of Sungho’s hair; that’s a good sign. Imbued with a new sense of purpose, Sungho grabs Dongmin by the waist with a steady, sure grip. His entire spine straightens and he goes rigid. “O-Oh,” he blurts quietly. It’s so dumb it makes Sungho laugh right in his face. Dongmin chuckles, too, but Sungho’s pretty sure it’s mostly out of embarrassment. 

Right. So it is appropriate to touch him back. Good to know. 

They’re close enough as is, but it’s obvious Dongmin wants to get closer. He nudges his foot between Sungho’s and drapes his arms over his shoulders. He’s breathing quick and shallow– they both are– and it’s clear he’s nervous, but he’s also thrumming with so much want, he can hardly contain it. As much as he tries to deny it, Sungho feels it too. They’re queer, deprived teenagers seeking some sort of intimacy in a world where they’re not allowed to have anything like that. Sungho’s used to window shopping, but now, his pockets are full. It’s an odd hour in the early morning and they’re tucked in a dark closet in an empty practice room. No one’s here. No one in their right mind is gonna just show up, either. This might be it. This might be his one and only chance to feel something.

Sungho has to be brave. 

He bypasses Dongmin’s jacket and slides right under his shirt. His palms meet soft, warm skin and Dongmin sucks in a sharp breath through his mouth. How he’s still wearing more than one layer, Sungho has no idea; he’s in a tanktop and sweats and he feels like he might have a fever. 

Dongmin crosses his arms behind Sungho’s neck and the sudden tightness pulls their bodies even closer. Their foreheads bump again, but this time, it doesn’t hurt in the slightest. Dongmin’s looking at Sungho through his lashes, his eyes shaky and dark and pleading for God-knows-what. He looks about as wired as Sungho feels. 

Sungho drags his nails lightly over the ridges of Dongmin’s rib muscles and it causes him to suck in a sharp breath through his teeth. It’s not funny, but Sungho smiles to himself. It feels good to make someone else feel something. Dongmin’s shuddering and gasping and clinging to Sungho because he’s feeling something so intense he can’t contain it and it’s Sungho who’s giving it to him. He’s never in his life had someone react to him this way, but he understands now why people want it so bad. He gets why Dongmin’s been pushing for this kind of freedom.

One scratch of his nails a little too hard into his side has Dongmin flinching forward into Sungho’s body. Their hips bump together and it all feels too real. Even worse, even more real, Dongmin doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t pull back and instead, he leans into it, aligns their hip bones in a way he knows is bad. It’s terrible because they’re both chock-full of disgusting hormones and a grocery list of mistakes and neither of them have it in them to care anymore. For once it’s just them, and for once they can do exactly what they want to do. 

It’s a long shot, but Sungho’s palms are itching to hold a little more. He grabs Dongmin’s ass.

Just as he predicted, Dongmin yelps and lurches forward. The arms around Sungho’s neck tighten and his head drops to rest against Sungho’s shoulder. He must not be turned off necessarily, though, because his dick is still half-hard and pressed into Sungho’s pelvis. 

“S-Sorry,” Dongmin breathes, winded already. “I’ve never done this with a guy…”

Sungho huffs out a laugh through his nose. I’ve never done this with anybody. He doesn’t say that. He just squeezes again, this time a little softer, and whispers, “It’s okay.” Dongmin bites back a whine– Sungho thought he liked Dongmin’s voice before, but this… This is something else.

Dongmin’s being quiet and letting Sungho grope him in a dirty closet like it’s nothing and it’s normal and really very fine, actually. He’s whining and trying to be subtle in the way he pushes his dick into Sungho’s hip bone; Sungho’d be lying if he said he wasn’t trying to do the same, too. The friction is gross and dry and it’s so stuffy in this fucking closet that Sungho’s struggling to take a breath that isn’t seventy-percent vaporized sweat. 

Dongmin tucks his face into his neck and each breath he forces out condenses into a glossy sheen on Sungho’s skin. Every sound, however small, is delivered directly into Sungho’s ear. It’s torture and Sungho drinks it up like he’s never wanted anything more in his life. 

He should probably feel worse about this. He had a set of clearly-defined rules he swore by, rules he tried to get Dongmin to swear by, too, and he’s gone and broken almost all of them from just the tiniest bit of coercion. Dongmin didn’t even say anything. He didn’t even ask. Before, Sungho would’ve considered himself strong-willed. He isn’t sure that applies anymore. 

Above all else, Sungho is a teenage boy with a craving for other boys. Boys with brooding eyes and awkward personalities and a penchant for childish pranks, maybe. Boys who confide their secrets in him and seek out his attention like they need it to live. Boys who, against all odds, find themselves more wrapped up in Sungho’s guilt-ridden homosexual warfare than they’d really like to admit. And yes, it’s Sungho who’s at fault for this, as he always is. It’s his fault for letting this drag on and on and on, for letting Dongmin think this was okay, that he had a chance– though, truth is, the chance has always been there. Sungho felt him staring since week one. Week one, his resolve began to crumble. 

He’s gonna shove all the blame onto his hormones, but there’s a little more than that. Feelings and urges and cravings like this don’t develop overnight. 

Sungho’s lower abdomen buzzes and flexes with deep heat. It rolls through him in sweltering waves, enough to make him light-headed. He didn’t think it’d be this easy to get swept up in Dongmin, but like a turbulent undercurrent, he can’t fight his way out. He’s being pulled under the surface whether he wants it or not. 

Dongmin jerks his hips forward and their dicks brush and Sungho has to bite his lip to keep anything embarrassing from coming out. “Fuck,” Dongmin gasps into Sungho’s ear, his voice rough and gravely. Sungho won’t say it, but he feels the same. He’s so hard now it hurts– the adrenaline and deep-simmering guilt is forcing his blood to pool in his cock far more than it should. Right now, in this fleeting moment, he convinces himself it’s a good thing.

Lips brush against his neck. It feels like lightning. They ghost along his skin, leaving goosebumps in their path, traveling up and over and up and over until hot breath is puffing against his jaw. Dongmin rocks his pelvis again and the heat is on Sungho’s cheek now, making his face warmer than it already was before. His heart races as he swallows hard around a lump in his throat. 

Dongmin’s nose nudges just under Sungho’s eye and, in a realization that makes him sick, Sungho knows what he wants. His brows furrow and he pulls his head back just a smidge, but Dongmin follows, entirely none-the-wiser. That makes Sungho feel worse, somehow. 

Right when Dongmin goes in for the kill, Sungho manages to turn his head all the way to the side. It’s quick and jarring and very clearly shows Dongmin just how abstract Sungho’s boundaries are; Dongmin stills and Sungho half expects him to lose interest all together. Over a kiss, he thinks in a disgusted sort of way. What does he think this is?

He’s only able to breathe again when Dongmin gives up. He’s observant enough to see that Sungho doesn’t want that from him, can’t want it. He audibly gulps and tucks himself back into Sungho’s shoulder. Sungho’s body relaxes and a pleasant sigh falls from his lips as Dongmin turns his mouth’s attention to Sungho’s neck instead. That’s much more acceptable in his book– it’s distant, but just as satisfying. Dongmin’s tongue feels incredible against his skin. 

In his own twisted display of appreciation, Sungho uses his hold on Dongmin’s ass to pull him closer. It’s nice for him, too, to hear Dongmin try to muffle a moan in his neck like it would keep him from hearing it. “Cute” wasn’t necessarily a word he’d use to describe Dongmin before, but seeing him clingy and desperate and wanting so badly is starting to change his mind. 

They fit together like puzzle pieces. They’ve settled against each other’s thighs, perfect for subtle rutting and a dry friction to further fuel the fires in their bodies. Sungho barely even has to move; all he needs to do is dig his fingers into the flesh of Dongmin’s ass and he reacts accordingly, pleasuring them both. His hands find purchase on Sungho’s hips, too, giving him greater leverage. 

Sungho wants to squeeze his thighs together, but he can’t. Dongmin is forcing him open. He feels like a frog that’s being dissected to teach some sort of lesson he won’t fully understand. His brain isn’t in any state to digest any of this beyond what feels good and what doesn’t. It feels good when Dongmin nips at that space behind his ear; it doesn’t feel good when he accidentally drools a little on his shoulder. Little things like that make sense, but he’s up too close to even attempt to see the bigger picture.

Dongmin’s fingers meet the bare skin of Sungho’s hip bones and the pressure borders on painful, but it’s definitely not unwelcome. Sungho sucks in a sharp breath and purposefully makes sure the sensitive head of his dick is pushed firm into Dongmin’s thigh. It must feel good for Dongmin, too, because he moans and presses his groin down to chase the sensation. Sungho hopes whatever noises he’s making aren’t as loud or embarrassing as Dongmin’s are. 

It’s really scary to think he might cum from this. It’s building fast, faster than what he’s used to when he’s doing this by himself. The damning mix of physical and mental stimuli is fucking him up in a way he wasn’t sure was possible. Park Sungho, pitiful virgin and bisexual disaster, coming apart from just the thigh of the only other boy he knows that might get off on this. He wishes he didn’t like it all so much, but if there’s one thing he knows by heart, it’s that he has no control over this. He never did. 

His breathing is ragged and strained. He prays to God Dongmin isn’t paying too much attention to him and is focusing more on himself instead, but he’s almost certain that isn’t the case. He nibbles on Sungho’s earlobe and it crushes him that that’s all it takes for his orgasm to finally build. It burns like wildfire in his stomach, courses through his veins in a miserable, scorching heat. He’s holding onto Dongmin’s ass like it’s the only thing grounding him. It probably hurts. 

Sungho cums quietly. His hips stutter pathetically on Dongmin’s thigh, and though his lips are pursed shut, little whines are still punched out of his throat. His forehead falls on Dongmin’s shoulder, mirroring their earlier position. He smells good, like sweat and soap. Dongmin’s hands go from his hips to the small of his back; he holds him closer through his orgasm. 

“Did you cum?” Dongmin pants like the dark stain blooming on Sungho’s sweats wasn’t obvious enough. Sungho doesn’t answer, focuses instead on trying to regulate his breathing, but Dongmin whimpers anyway and humps his thigh a little harder. “Shit. That’s so hot.”

Sungho can’t even appreciate his post-orgasm bliss, let alone properly drink in Dongmin’s desperate, pretty noises. He feels stupid. He knows he looks like a stupid fucking virgin. Dongmin’s gonna know he’s never done this before. He’s gonna know he’s inexperienced and cums too fast and doesn’t reciprocate the way he should. Dongmin clearly knows what he’s doing, too, which only rubs dirt in Sungho’s dick-shaped wound. Where he’s supposed to feel relief, all he feels is dread.

Dongmin’s moans slightly increase in volume. When he finally cums, his hips still and he sucks in a sharp breath and holds it. Sungho can feel him twitch against his thigh and it makes his stomach feel swoopy and hungry, almost. He just made another guy cum in his shorts. There’s some redemption in that, isn’t there?

Now they’re both sweaty and burning up and uncomfortable in their underwear. It takes a long time for them to both catch their breath and an even longer time to stop touching each other. Sungho releases Dongmin first– he feels kinda bad for squeezing his butt like that for so long. When Dongmin finally takes a step back, he hangs his head and slides his hands up to hold Sungho’s arms instead. Not that Sungho's in the best shape for it, but he keeps Dongmin steady. 

He doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t want to speak. He doesn’t want this to end.

Dongmin inhales through his nose. With his exhale, he lets go of Sungho and reaches down to pick up his phone. The flashlight is still on; without asking, he turns it off and hands it back to Sungho like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Sungho takes it and slides it in his pocket. 

It’s too dark and too quiet. Sungho keeps waiting for Dongmin to break the ice, but he never does, and Sungho doesn’t think he can say a word without bursting into tears or throwing up or jumping Dongmin’s bones for a fitful round two. He decides he should just open the door instead. 

The light is blinding. They both squint and Dongmin makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “Shit,” he hisses. It’s much colder outside, too, and the air isn’t as heavy to breathe. Sungho’s quick to step out of the closet and beeline straight for his water bottle. He tips his head back and chugs as much of it as he can without choking. He almost manages to finish it off without making too much of a mess, but he ends up spilling all over his chin and down his shirt. He lurches forward and curls in on himself, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth like it’ll minimize the damage. He doesn’t look up, but he hears Dongmin snort from across the room.

When he finally feels like he might have some wits about him again, he lifts his head and catches sight of Dongmin waiting by the door with his bag slung over his shoulder. He wasn’t expecting him to be so… nonchalant. Not after he tried to kiss him. Not after they dryhumped each other in a dark dirty closet. Not after he just completely and totally uprooted Sungho’s life like it was nothing. 

“Let’s go,” he calls. Sungho’s unnerved. He grabs his belongings and does as he’s told. 

They don’t speak on the walk home. They part ways and Sungho is so fucking tired when he gets home that all he can do is change his underwear and crawl in bed. He leaves his phone unplugged. 

The moment he gains consciousness in the morning, his eyes snap open. Two words stare back at him in bold, oppressive font:

“Oh, fuck.”

How does he move on? How does anyone move on after messing up that royally? He– He fucking– They had sex in a practice room closet. It can not be overstated just how bad that is. 

He obsesses over it while he brushes his teeth. He thinks about it as he gets dressed for the day. He should eat, but he chews nothing but his own nails. Between studying and vocal lessons and dance practice and more unbearable individual schedules, it’s like he can’t breathe anything but stress and shame. His half-dead phone is nothing but a cruel reminder. He has to excuse himself to the restroom to hyperventilate more than once. 

He can’t tell anyone. Dongmin can’t, either. He can’t. 

As much as Sungho would like to give Dongmin his full unbridled trust, he isn’t quite there yet. Unfortunately, this means he has to be the one to seek him out on a day where they’d normally hardly see each other. 

Sungho knows exactly where his dorm is. He knows the passcode, too, because he’s seen Dongmin punch it in a handful of times, but instead of barging in like a madman after a long and strenuous day, he knocks. 

It’s Kim Woonhak who answers. He’s a nice kid, cute and eager and talented. He calls Sungho “hyung” and invites him in, but Sungho just asks to see Dongmin. It probably comes across as rude, but he’s too busy gnawing his bottom lip and preparing himself to feel something unpleasant to care too much.

Dongmin looks surprised to see him, but not upset. It’s cold out, but Sungho still refuses to come in– he makes Dongmin come out to him instead. 

Sungho knows he’s visibly keyed up. Dongmin picks up on that energy and crosses his arms over his chest with a tense expression. “What’s up?” He asks, forcing normalcy. 

Sungho glances between Dongmin and the door. Nobody’s listening, he’s sure, but he’s so nervous he feels like his heart might explode out of his chest.

He starts with something he should’ve asked yesterday. “Are you… doing okay?”

Dongmin’s eyes widen. His guard falls as his shoulders relax. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” He scratches idly at his skin. “... Are you?”

That’s a loaded question. Sungho gives the easy answer. “Fine. Just…” He coughs up a dry laugh. “Paranoid, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t say anything to anybody,” Dongmin quickly reassures in a hushed, urgent tone. “I know you wouldn’t want that. It’s for the best, anyway.”

There’s a bad taste in Sungho’s mouth. That’s rich, coming from you.

“Nobody. Not now, not ever.”

Dongmin frowns, but he nods slowly. “... Yeah. Nobody. Let’s just forget about it, hyung.”

Well. Hold on a second.

“I-I didn’t say we had to forget about it.”

Dongmin just stares at him for a moment. A bit too long, because Sungho starts squirming and his ears start burning. 

He scoffs. “Oh, yeah? What do you suggest we do with it, then? Compartmentalize it ‘till it becomes everyone's problem?”

Oh, Sungho hates that. He hates when Dongmin acts like he knows more than he does. He’s not as high and mighty as he thinks he is. 

“Do you want to forget about it?” He retorts. “Because if you do, say the word and I promise I’ll never breathe within three feet of you again.”

Dongmin gulps. He looks taken aback. “... It’s not that serious, hyung,” he murmurs. “And of course I don’t want to forget about it. I wanted it. You did, too, I’m pretty sure.” Sungho shrugs. That’s as close to an affirmative as he’s gonna get. Dongmin tenses his jaw and turns his gaze to his feet. “If you think you should forget about it, you can. I don’t think I ever will.”

Sungho’s stomach starts doing funny stuff. “I won’t,” he agrees, hesitantly and solemnly. “Let’s just keep this between us, okay?”

“Of course.” Dongmin doesn’t sound fully convinced when he says, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Sungho leaves without ever stepping foot inside Dongmin’s dorm. In fact, in all the months between them talking and the debut lineup being announced, he never saw any further than the front entrance. That’s a piece of him he never got to learn.

There were other ways to get familiar with Dongmin. To see and feel every inch of him, all you had to do was catch him at a good time in a bad place. The first time Sungho touched his dick, they were in a bathroom stall. The first time Sungho had his dick touched, it was at a noraebang. Dongmin sucked him off in a vocal room. Bad places became their thing.

This wasn’t supposed to be a thing in the first place. Obviously, if they had any control over it, they’d put an end to it. Obviously.

Career was supposed to come first. It turned out that Sungho would come first, then Dongmin. Real embarrassing stuff.

They let this go for a little under three months, which is way too long to be considered a mindless fling. As anxious as it made Sungho feel, he couldn't quit. The momentary pros far outweighed the permanent cons. It was all a monumental lapse of judgement– one of many, as he would soon come to understand.

Because then the debut lineup is announced. Because then, reality comes crashing down on him that this is happening, and that he’s done something that could ruin this for the both of them. Because then, Sungho and Dongmin are set to debut. Together.

It hurt to see Dongmin slipping prior to the announcement. He wasn’t practicing nearly as much, his work ethic became sloppy, and he was leaning more towards producing than exerting himself dancing on an empty stomach every single day. Sungho couldn’t really blame him, necessarily, but deep down, he thought he knew why. Idols can’t really date, especially not if they’re queer. If Dongmin wanted to be with someone in this same group as him, well… There wasn’t really a point in trying to debut anymore, was there? That’s what Sungho’s stupid brain came up with, anyway. He never asked if that was true. He never got the chance.

Sungho should’ve been excited– and in a way, he was– but it was quickly overshadowed when he realized just how big of a mess he had to clean up. He would look at Dongmin’s face and immediately feel sick; how could he be expected to do this for the rest of his life? If nothing had happened between the two of them, this would be the best news of his life, but he got careless and let things get out of hand. He hasn’t just destroyed his career, but Dongmin’s, too, and all over some quick and easy sex. It’s shameful.

The first day of group practice, Sungho has a panic attack. It’s something he’s more than acquainted with at this point, but it hits him so hard and so suddenly and so viciously, he has to excuse himself. Sanghyuk almost follows him and knowing that someone cares makes it worse. If Sanghyuk knew why, he wouldn’t be so eager to comfort him.

Sungho’s gotten pretty good at not throwing up, so he turns to a vocal room instead of the restrooms. Quiet and soundproofed with a soft couch and a door you can’t see through. It’s perfect. He falls into the cushions with a barely-concealed sob. Like a ragdoll, he folds over himself; he feels like he has no control over his body anymore, and not a single one of his limbs will listen to him. It takes an egregious amount of effort just to bring his hand to his forehead so he can support his neck. He feels pathetic– it’s a deep-rooted feeling, tendrils stretching out from every inch of his brain down through his aching chest and trembling knees. He can’t work like this. He can’t live like this. Another breathless sob wracks his body.

He isn’t sure how long he sits there fighting to keep himself conscious, but it feels like years. He jumps when the door handle is rattled and there’s knocking against the frosted glass door, but he makes no move to get up and answer it. He didn’t lock the door. He should’ve locked the door.

“I’m coming in,” he hears. Before he can shout that no, he’s fine, don’t come in, Dongmin practically throws the door off its hinges. He enters and closes it behind him just as fast. Sungho spares him a glance and though his stomach churns, he feels a little relieved that Dongmin looks worried. He realizes how much this is affecting Sungho. How is he not terrified? This pertains to him, too. He opens his mouth to say as much, but all that comes out is a pitiful choked noise, so he buries his face in his hands and forgets it. He can hear Dongmin take in a labored breath, sharp like he’s physically hurting.

Dongmin has the audacity to ask, “What’s wrong?” Sungho’s bottom lip quivers, and as much as he’d like to just keep his mouth shut and have Dongmin figure it out on his own, he can’t help but cough up a bitter laugh. He sniffles and rubs his palms over his damp face. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”

He can feel the air around Dongmin shift and bristle. “I’m asking. Genuinely.”

Sungho’s still shaking. He’s shivering deep in his body; it’s like his bones and muscles are covered in a thick frost. “Genuinely–” he pauses to gasp, shaky and watery. “Genuinely, I– I don’t want to answer you. I’m not going to.”

Dongmin’s frustrated, Sungho can hear it. He exhales through his nose and shuffles his feet. “You’re mad when I try to help you, mad when I don’t? What the fuck am I supposed to do here?”

“I don’t know,” Sungho mumbles. “You followed me. I don’t know.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Sungho’s head is spinning like a fucking top and nothing he can ever do will get it to quit.

Dongmin kneels between his legs. He grabs Sungho’s wrists and pries his trembling hands from his face. Sungho looks everywhere but him. 

“It’ll be okay.” Dongmin chews the words in his mouth like a bitter pill. “We’ll be okay.” Sungho frowns and shakes his head and the waterworks come back into full swing. Dongmin squeezes his wrists tighter and scoots closer on his knees. “I promise. I promise on everything, we’ll be okay. Stop crying, hyung.”

Sungho wants to believe him. It’d be so much easier that way. To give in and believe the lie and shirk his responsibility for this entire shitshow onto Dongmin, that sounds like a dream. As much as he wishes he could let go, his shoulders are built to hold this kind of weight. It wouldn’t be right to expect Dongmin to take this from him– he’d crumble under it, worse than Sungho is now. It’s not his fault, as much as Sungho wishes it was. 

He hangs his head and sniffles through his last few falling tears. He doesn’t like being comforted by Dongmin like this, but it’s all he has. Dongmin tightens his fingers around Sungho’s wrists– Sungho begrudgingly nods in response. Dongmin’s thumb rubs over his protruding bone and he sighs, heavy and exhausted. “Yeah. You’re okay.” A fluttering kiss to one wrist, then to the other. It’s an inappropriate thing to do to someone you hardly know, but Sungho wants him to do it over and over and over again. 

Dongmin kisses up his arms. He lifts himself on his knees and presses his lips to the soft, unmarked skin of his forearms. It dries Sungho up, sobers him, gives him something to focus on besides the unending pressure crushing his ribs and unraveling his insides. It’s nice to experience a sensation that doesn’t make him feel like he’s dying. Dongmin kisses the bend of his elbow before rising a bit more. He’s fully situated between Sungho’s knees now, silently soothing his body the only way he knows how. One hand plants itself on the couch just on the outside of Sungho’s thigh and the other strokes down his bicep. Sungho shudders, but it’s not from the anxiety anymore.

Dongmin's neck stretches uncomfortably just to press a kiss to Sungho’s collarbone, peeking tantalizingly out from the hem of his tanktop. Sungho exhales lightly from his nose. When Dongmin pulls away and sits back on his feet, he looks a little less distraught. “Okay?”

Sungho chews nervously on his lip. He nods. Dongmin offers him a soft smile and crawls right where Sungho needs him to be.

Sungho’s familiar with the feeling of a mouth on his neck, but not like this. Dongmin isn’t ravenous or clumsy or rushing like he usually is; he takes his time, works Sungho up just to pull him down from whatever miserable dark cloud he was wasting away in. Instead of the raging arousal he’s used to, he feels strangely calm, like he’s floating. The light-headed aftermath of a panic attack combined with Dongmin so sweetly pulling him apart like an ooey-gooey cinnamon roll is doing wonders for his turbulent brain.

Dongmin takes a small bite and Sungho lets himself melt into the feeling. He lets Dongmin crowd into his space, lets him hover over his body and mouth tenderly along his jaw, lets him guide Sungho back against the throw pillows by his shoulders. He lies limp and willing as Dongmin situates himself over his fragile frame. Sungho’s eyes are still rimmed red and his nails are bitten to bits and he knows he looks like he’s just been in a terrible fight with himself, but Dongmin still gazes down at him like he’s something beautiful. He leans down on his hands and kisses Sungho’s cheek and he wants to cry all over again.

“You still okay?” He asks as he gives Sungho his full weight and nestles his face into his neck like a cat. Still checking up on him, even though Sungho can feel his cock twitching to life against his hip bone. Sungho breathes steadily through his nose and, though his limbs still feel like jelly, reaches up and rubs his palm over the broad expanse of Dongmin’s back.

“... Mm. I’m okay.”

He can feel Dongmin smile against his skin. “Good,” he punctuates with a kiss. “You just gotta relax.”

Sungho’s eyes roll up towards the ceiling. That’s easy for you to say. He appreciates the sentiment regardless and presses a little firmer against Dongmin’s back as he continues kissing down his collar. No amount of mild irritation could ever make this not feel good. 

Each gentle press of Dongmin’s lips trailing down Sungho’s torso has his brain leaking out of his ears, pooling into an ugly, over-complicated mess. Dongmin’s forcing him not to think. He’s determined to break something in Sungho; he hikes up the bottom hem of his shirt and laves his tongue over his stomach and it makes Sungho’s entire body scream, but it’s not from panic. Sungho breathes out a trembling sigh as Dongmin rubs his cheek just shy of the head of his cock, not fully awake but definitely seeking pleasure. Dongmin must catch on, because he laughs a little and plucks teasingly at the waistband of Sungho’s shorts. “Can I?”

It’s a no-brainer. Sungho nods and Dongmin gets to work with a barely-concealed grin. His nails graze Sungho’s sensitive hip bones as he shimmies his shorts and briefs off in one quick movement. Sungho’s dick is still trying its best to fill after such a sudden shift in atmosphere, but instead of waiting or stroking it to full mast, Dongmin takes half of it into his mouth, still soft. 

Sungho gasps and knocks his head back against the arm of the couch. He’s hyperaware of every pass of Dongmin’s hot, wet tongue, the way he hollows his cheeks and sucks like he’s trying to get the blood to flow all by himself, his cold fingers holding the base of his shaft steady– it’s working, the blood is flowing. The muscles in Sungho’s chest and abdomen are sore from his hyperventilating, but the ache is almost pleasant as they begin to contract for a much better reason.

Dongmin pops off and switches to licking the underside with his tongue flat and dripping saliva. Sungho whimpers and reaches out to grab his hair– Dongmin intercepts and interlocks their fingers together instead. He squeezes and Sungho squeezes back.

Dongmin pulls Sungho’s half-hard cock to the side and places a delicate kiss right next to it. “Why don’t…” He trails off, uncharacteristically nervous all of a sudden. He gulps. “Why don’t we call this the last one?”

Sungho’s fingers twitch against Dongmin’s knuckles. His stomach drops like he hasn’t been begging for those words to come out of Dongmin’s mouth. Is this really it? His tongue feels like a desert. But it feels so good. 

What Sungho wants isn’t relevant anymore– not when it has been for months now– and it’s time for his needs to become his priority. What he needs is for this grand dream of his to become true. It’s almost there, they’re almost there, on the cusp of the stardom they’ve been chasing this whole time. Dongmin’s so good at what he does. He’s gonna be such a good fucking idol.

Sungho worries the inside of his cheek between his molars. He lifts his head and blinks down at Dongmin’s pretty face nuzzled into the joint of his thigh. He’s looking up at him, too, his eyes wide and dark and waiting for an answer. Sungho honestly doesn’t know why he asked. It’s not like they have a choice.

“... Yeah,” he nods. “Okay.”

Dongmin’s eyes fall. He nods, too, but it’s wistful and bittersweet. He kisses that same spot on Sungho’s pelvis. “Okay.”

The air is so tense, Sungho can feel it weighing on his ribcage. Dongmin inhales, holds it for a second, then breathes out with a soft smile. His gaze rises and meets Sungho’s again.

“Remember this.”

Sungho has goosebumps before Dongmin even sinks back down on him. He’s more sensitive now that he’s gotten harder, and Dongmin seems revitalized, too, more and more eager to imprint this feeling on Sungho’s brain forever. He makes a loud, wet sucking noise with his spit around Sungho’s cock and it has Sungho groaning and reaching back with his free hand to fist the pillow behind him. “Q-Quiet,” he pants. Dongmin lifts his head off with a gross sound just as noisy as the one before. 

“Right.” He strokes Sungho to full mast. “I didn’t lock the door.”

Sungho lunges up onto his elbows. “What?!”

“I didn’t come in here to do this!” Dongmin refutes with an incredulous laugh. “I just came to see if you were okay, not…” He gestures to Sungho’s dick. “... this.”

Sungho bends one of his legs and uses his foot to push Dongmin away. “Go. Go lock it. Now, before you piss me off.” Dongmin knows better than to take any of this to heart, so he pushes himself up on his hands and crawls backwards off the couch with a feline grin. Sungho only relaxes and collapses onto his back when the telltale click of the lock sliding into place reverberates around the room. 

Dongmin is more than happy to pick up where they left off. He wraps his fist around Sungho and pumps it a few times before mouthing on the head. Sungho wants to be mad, but he can’t feel anything other than pleasure when Dongmin’s using his tongue like that. Sungho’s cock twitches and the precum that leaks out of him is immediately sent straight down Dongmin’s throat. He drinks up every bit of Sungho like he’s starved for it, like this is all he’s ever wanted. He acts like feeding off of Sungho is the only thing keeping him alive.

Sungho’s not too pressed about it, clearly, as he writhes and moans and searches blindly not for Dongmin’s hair, but his hand. Dongmin takes it again and Sungho uses it as an anchor while Dongmin mercilessly devours as much of him as he can take. It feels good to be eaten like this, as vulnerable and terrifying as it is. Sungho’s fight-or-flight instincts have been screaming at him since this whole thing started, and since this whole thing started, he’s blissfully ignored them. This time is no different. He’s going to let Dongmin eat him until there’s nothing left.

Dongmin does that loud sucking thing again and the sensation of his spit bubbling around Sungho’s cock is enough to have him gasping and arching off the cushions. “O-Oh– Hey, I said– Ah, quiet–!” He has to bite his own lip to keep his whining at an appropriate volume. Dongmin hums in amusement and that’s even worse. Sungho’s lashes flutter and his teeth dig into his bottom lip a little harder. 

Fuck Dongmin and his stupid perfect cock-sucking skills. It’s just not fair. 

He must realize how good it feels, because Dongmin hums again, except this time it’s more drawn out. Sungho groans low in the back of his throat and, against his own will, his hips buck up into the vibrations. Dongmin chokes and gurgles and his throat muscles constrict and loosen and constrict and loosen so quickly and aggressively, it has Sungho gasping for breath. He can hardly believe how good it feels. He doesn’t even want to apologize.

Not that he gets the chance to. Dongmin pulls off halfway to catch his breath before forcing himself back down. Sungho’s not big by any means, but he’s still quite the mouthful, and Dongmin’s never done this. He’s never bitten off more than he could chew and Sungho’s never asked him to, either, because he never thought that something could feel so good at Dongmin’s expense. Still, Dongmin pushes, and he predictably gags himself again. His back bends and convulses as he fights against his own reflex, all for the sake of giving Sungho pleasure. It feels better than anything he’s done so far, bitterly enough, and Sungho wishes he would’ve tried this sooner. 

He doesn’t want to cum yet. If he could just drag this on forever, he’d be fine never cumming again in his life. He just wants this, and only this, forever.

Just when he feels his climax start to crest, Sungho wrenches his hand from Dongmin’s and yanks him off by his hair. He makes another not-sexy sound as he comes up, but his face is flushed dark red and his eyes are watering and there’s a line of some liquid (a concoction of thick spit and precum, Sungho’s sure) connecting him to Sungho’s angry pink cock, so he can’t be too put off by it.

“I’m gonna cum,” Sungho manages through heaving breaths. Dongmin’s struggling to catch his breath, too, but before he can even fully recover, he rolls his eyes and cocks his head and then he’s back down like nothing happened. Sungho arches like he’s in pain and tugs on his hair harder. “Fuck!” He cries, muffled by his own clenched teeth. This isn’t right. It isn’t fair. If he wants this, he should be allowed to have it all the time. He has the right to want Dongmin. He should be allowed. He should.

He doesn’t mean to, but Sungho comes right down Dongmin’s throat. It chokes him even more, forces gag after gag out of his abused throat, but it feels so good and Sungho’s so far gone from everything that’s happened to him, he can barely register what Dongmin’s put himself through. He grinds his cock up into it even further, pulling addictive little whimpers of protest from Dongmin’s sealed lips. He can feel himself pulsing against the roof of Dongmin’s mouth.

Dongmin swallows it all, but it’s not like he had a choice in the matter. Through Sungho’s entire orgasm, he never pulled back. He kept his lips around Sungho’s dick like his life depended on it, like he didn’t want a single drop of his spend to go to waste. Even now, after Sungho’s finished and coming down from his high, Dongmin’s mouth is occupied. He looks up at Sungho with tearful eyes and an expression that’s pleading for… something. Sungho isn’t sure. 

Sungho loosens his grip on Dongmin’s hair, but doesn’t let go. He uses his hold to pry Dongmin off of his softening, overstimulated cock. He goes easy, but he doesn’t look thrilled, and that’s putting it lightly. At least they didn’t make a mess. Sungho releases his hair and instead drags his thumb along his plump, spit-slicked bottom lip. Dongmin’s so pretty. 

Without breaking eye-contact, Dongmin crawls up Sungho’s body like a predator cornering its prey. His erection bumps against Sungho’s knee and even though he literally just came, Sungho's dick stirs in interest. He couldn’t get hard again if he tried, but it’s a nice thought.

Dongmin brings their linked hands up and pins them next to Sungho’s head. His other hand comes to rest against Sungho’s cheek, abnormally tender and delicate for the situation. Sungho finds himself leaning into Dongmin’s palm; his head fits so perfectly in his hand, like they were molded for this exact purpose. Dongmin thumbs over his cheekbone and Sungho’s eyes instinctively flutter. 

It feels good to be taken care of. This was something Sungho had to learn after priding himself on being so self-sufficient and independent all the time. It was something he taught Dongmin, too, during one of their first times together. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but he’s learning. They both are.

Dongmin leans in closer. It’s at this point that Sungho should turn away, but he… doesn’t. Decidedly, he doesn’t. Dongmin notices, and Sungho knows he notices because they’re still locking eyes and Sungho just watched his widen and gleam with a newfound desperation.

Their noses brush and Sungho’s lips part all on their own. This is so fucked. They’re so fucked.

A thunderous series of knocks nearly rattles the door out of its frame. Dongmin reels back like he’s been shocked and Sungho does the same. He rolls off the couch and falls unceremoniously to his knees. He struggles to tuck himself back into his underwear and pull his shorts back over his legs, but Dongmin’s got it worse with trying to hide his glaringly obvious boner. They both scrub their hands over their faces like it’ll do anything to clean up what’s just happened. Dongmin looks especially rough, dried spit crackling at the corners of his mouth and down his chin. He gets most of it scrubbed off by the time Sungho fixes his hair and opens the door.

It’s Sanghyuk, just like he thought it’d be. He looks worried, but Sungho must look pretty bad, because his expression just deepens. “Hey…” he begins, trailing off as his eyes focus not on Sungho, but on something behind him. “I just– wanted to check on you. See if you were doing okay.”

Sungho nods despite himself. He knows he looks like a mess. He still hasn’t fully recovered from his panic attack, let alone his orgasm. He probably looks like he got hit by a double-decker bus. A double-decker bus named Han Dongmin, more like. It’s not funny. He shouldn’t laugh.

Sanghyuk notices Sungho wringing his hands before he does. Sanghyuk’s eyes fix on them and Sungho immediately stops. His hands come to an awkward, fitful rest at his sides. He’s a bad liar and Sanghyuk knows it.

Still, he doesn’t press. He glances between Sungho’s hands and his face and then to whatever it is behind him, then takes a step back and concedes. “... Okay. Go home and get some rest. Text me when you get there safe.” Sungho nods again. Speech won’t save him anymore than silence will. 

Before Sanghyuk can walk away, Dongmin slides up beside him. “Are you sure you don’t feel like throwing up again?”

“You threw up?”

Sungho grimaces and hangs his head. Right. A cover story. “... Yeah,” he groans. “Just a little. I feel better now, though.”

Sanghyuk frowns even deeper and shoots Dongmin a pointed look. “Get him home safe, please. No more running off to throw up without telling anybody. I was worried.”

Sungho wasn’t queasy before, but he is now. Knowing he made anybody worry over his stupid little fling with Dongmin makes him nauseous. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Sanghyuk pauses and looks between the two of them before exhaling through his nose and dragging his feet back down the hall to the practice room. Sungho watches him go with a sharp pang of guilt worrying his stomach. 

Dongmin does get him home safe. The weather’s started to warm, so they walk without thinking too much about the cold. There’s no ice to slip on, but there are nails to bite, and Dongmin has to physically grab Sungho’s wrist and pry his fingers from his mouth to get him to quit. He knows he’s a worrywart over-thinker, but he can’t help it. The dog has been put down, but its fur is still stuck to every single piece of clothing Sungho owns. How is he supposed to shake this? Can he?

He’s not given a choice. Dongmin walks him to his dorm and leaves after a simple goodbye and that’s that. Sungho clambers into his bed feeling both heavy and light and that’s the end of it. It’s done. It’s over.

All those empty promises he made in the night that fell through the moment the sun came up are gone. The light is burning them away like a persistent frost, still desperately clinging to dead blades of grass. There’s nothing left for them here.

It’s an unspoken rule, or maybe just the natural progression of things, but they keep their distance from that day onwards. Courteous, of course, but not overly friendly. They’re cordial, if a little uncomfortable, and as jarring and upsetting as it is, Sungho knows it’s necessary. He doesn’t find himself worrying like he used to– he gets so swept up in practice and recording and perfecting the image he’s portraying that he doesn’t even have the time to chew his nails down to the skin. Sungho becomes a machine; they all do. 

They work well enough as colleagues, and if anybody notices the sudden shift in their behavior, they don’t say it. Jaehyun doesn’t, and neither do Donghyun or Woonhak, but they were never close enough to see the difference. Sanghyuk, maybe, because he’s the quiet-observer type, but he’s only acknowledged it once. He ends up firing off at Sungho for being distant and secretive when Sanghyuk could clearly see the distress he was in. They fight about it and Sanghyuk bitterly throws in Sungho’s sudden and obvious bias towards Dongmin. He argues that he’s known Sungho longer, and he thought they were friends, and he just wants to help. Sungho can’t exactly say why he couldn’t turn to Sanghyuk for this specific situation, so he does what he can and leaves the wound to fester. It grows worse and worse and angrier and more painful every day they don’t talk about it, but there’s not much for Sungho to say. They eventually get over it, but their relationship is never the same. Would it be wrong to blame Dongmin for that, too?

Still, despite it all, their debut preparations wrap up smoothly. It took months and months of non-stop work, but when Sungho finally gets to stand on stage with the name BOYNEXTDOOR permanently stapled to him for the rest of his life, it feels worth every second of torture he was forced to endure. He almost looks back on it fondly, like a traumatic kind of nostalgia. 

They do well and Sungho feels good. Not the good he felt with Dongmin, nothing fleeting or uncertain, but steady and solid good. The adrenaline rush he got from sneaking away to exchange half-hour handjobs is replaced by the thrill of performing in front of massive audiences. It takes swaths and swaths of strangers to replicate the feelings he got from one person; he still catches a bitter taste lingering in his mouth from time to time, but it’s a decent enough payoff. 

Months pass, then a year. Normalcy tries to return, and it almost does, but there’s a dark cloud looming over the both of them every time they start to think something could change for the better. Dongmin starts touching him again– that’s good– but then Sungho starts getting weird about it and then Dongmin does, too, and even though he doesn’t stop, Sungho still feels awkward when it happens. He likes it, but it’s always such a surprise, he can’t help but react like he hates it. A brush of their arms or hands or their feet touching under the table, it’s all a lot. Normal for everybody else, but never for them. 

Work isn’t even an ample distraction. Everything Sungho does leads back to Dongmin one way or another. When he dances, he asks Dongmin for a peer review. They monitor their vocals and subconsciously seek feedback from each other before anybody else. Even during individual endeavors, Sungho can’t keep to himself. He tells himself that he’s ignoring Dongmin, but it’s completely the opposite. He eavesdrops. He stares. He watches Dongmin write love songs that don't quite hit the mark and wonders who they're for because they've never held hands and he’s never called Dongmin “baby”. These lyrics can’t be about him. 

That may be the most crushing part, that Dongmin moves on. He doesn’t stay hung up on a ninety-day fling like Sungho does. He carries an air of pride about him that Sungho can’t seem to muster for himself. He so freely and so casually mentions girlfriends, boyfriends, hookups and men he thinks are attractive, comfortably slips in mentions of homosexuality when it’s just the six of them. It’s never official, but he comes out, and worse, it’s… fine. It’s like nothing happens at all. No one picks or bullies or even acknowledges it, really, except for Jaehyun, but that's because he comes out as queer, too. That one wasn’t a surprise. 

So Dongmin lives his life the way he needs to and Sungho… what, stays ruined forever? How is that fair?

Sungho doesn’t sleep with another man after Dongmin. He can’t bring himself to do it, and he wishes there was a better reason for why. Women are lovely and not at all a problem, and he does find himself in bed with them when time allows, but he can’t lay his hands on another man. The thought is nice, but the further he digs into it, the more he realizes he wouldn’t be able to without remembering who it was that touched him first. 

In a lot of ways, Dongmin ruined his life. But now, as they release album after album and move from music shows to festivals to full tours, he finds he can’t think about it like he used to. At some point, Dongmin became Taesan, and he became his groupmate rather than his friend.

They’re friendly and playful and have no problem interacting on camera, but once it’s off, they push away from each other like repulsed magnets. It’s never nasty and it never causes any issues and everybody else just assumes that as they grew up and became adults, their personalities twisted and morphed until they were entirely incompatible. Admittedly, it’s not the furthest from the truth, so they make a silent pact to run with that story. It gets them far enough.

Things start to ease after a year or two. Dongmin touches him more, no doubt the influence of Myung Jaehyun and his constant need to put his hands on Sungho’s body. Dongmin finds a weird sort of pleasure in grabbing Sungho’s ass, of all things, and Sungho wonders if there isn’t some sort of special influence in that, too. He reacts in a way he thinks is appropriate– shrieking, yelling, pulling away and throwing Dongmin’s hand off, threatening to hit him– and Dongmin always laughs like it’s the most entertaining thing he’s ever seen in his life. It started as something he’d do when the cameras were rolling, but one night they were standing in the kitchen and he just did it and everyone else cracked up. Sungho thinks that outside validation is what pushes him to do it off-camera, too.

It’s deeply embarrassing to admit and Sungho would never say it out loud, but he doesn’t hate it. To receive some sort of attention from Dongmin is nice. There are a myriad of other things he could’ve picked, so the fact that he chose ass-grabbing of all things is a little strange, but it’s not bad. Sungho reacts the way he does because he can’t help it, but seeing Dongmin enjoy it pleases him, too. He fights a little harder sometimes just to see Dongmin beam and look at him a bit longer. 

And yeah, maybe it reminds him of groping Dongmin’s cute butt in the closet all those years ago. But that’s not relevant. He doesn’t think of that often. That would be weird.

He becomes a victim as the dorm arrangements change and he ends up with Dongmin and Sanghyuk. In a way, he thinks things might finally be healing, but at the same time, everything Dongmin’s doing contradicts that. He doesn’t seek out Sungho’s company, he just uses him for a quick, unfunny bit. It’s self-gratification above anything else; he does what he wants and then leaves. Sungho’s finding the silver lining, that Dongmin’s looking at him and speaking to him and touching him when there’s nobody around that he has to act for, but it’s as close to the bare minimum as he can get. Sungho’s scraping the bottom of his optimism barrel and it’s starting to hurt. 

Not to mention, the way Dongmin looks at him feels… predatory, almost, like he’s suppressing some instinct to go over and use his teeth to rip Sungho’s flesh clean off his bone. That’s another thing Sungho doesn’t hate, but it confuses him. Sure, he’ll eye Dongmin in the mirror or out of the corner of his eye and fight the urge to salivate, but it’s nothing but lingering memories of something that doesn’t exist anymore. Sungho really thought that they buried that ages ago, but maybe Dongmin kept a piece without telling him. That’s the most uncomfortable thing about this whole song and dance, the idea that maybe Dongmin wants to be bad again. 

They’ve been doing so good following the rules. They don’t do anything they aren’t supposed to. They keep their distance, they don’t overshare, they do what they’re told. 

Sungho does, anyway. But Dongmin’s always been different.

Sungho comes home one day and opens his bedroom door and seeing Dongmin perched on the edge of his bed makes his heart drop further than anything ever has in his life.

It hurts to see him vulnerable again. He isn’t showing it on purpose, but with his shoulders hunched and his expression apprehensive and the general air around him tense and heavy, Sungho knows. He’s seen this– felt this– more times than he can count. It was painful before, but now it makes him want to die. In all honesty, he’d rather die than have to face this.

Sungho isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do here, so he chooses to pretend like this is normal and not currently sending him into a mental spiral. “Taesan,” he greets casually as he drops his bag onto the floor. “What’s up?”

Dongmin watches him without a word. He plants his elbows on his knees and keeps his hands clasped like a prayer. Sungho shakes his hair out and turns to face his dresser so he can take off his jewelry, but as he unclasps his necklace and pulls his rings off and removes his earrings, Dongmin doesn’t say a word. He spins back around and finds Dongmin in that same position, brooding and pensive. Sungho’s arms fall hesitantly to his side and he feels a dark pit of dread start to build in his stomach.

“... Taesan?”

They lock eyes and Sungho shivers. Dongmin’s fingers tense and he runs his tongue over his dry bottom lip.

“Hyung.”

His gaze is dark and familiar. Dongmin’s ringing the bell and Sungho’s salivating like a Pavloved dog.

Tentatively, Sungho takes one step after another. In four, he’s halfway to Dongmin. He stops and fidgets with a frayed thread on his sweatpants. “Did you need something?” He tries to sound cool and uninterested, but as soon as the words are ejected from his throat, he gulps and blinks rapidly like he’s trying to erase the sight laid out in front of him.

Dongmin’s faux composure is starting to slip, too. Instead of looking serious and gloomy like he did when Sungho first entered, he’s starting to chew his bottom lip and become restless. It’s not lost on Sungho, who starts to realize that whatever this is may be hard for Dongmin, too.

“I–” he begins, stuttering like he’s choking on his own words, “I just– I wanted to, um. See. See you.”

“...”

Sungho stares down at him, completely dumbstruck. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I’m here, aren’t I? What else would I want?”

The last part comes out a little too snarky for Sungho’s liking. Knowing, like Dongmin’s peeking into Sungho’s brain and seeing every naughty memory he’s held onto. It makes Sungho’s blood run a little hotter.

“... Well, here I am. You’ve seen me.” Sungho knows he sounds awkward, he can hear it like nails on a chalkboard in his own ears. It makes the corners of Dongmin’s lips curl up. 

His gaze lands on Sungho’s… stomach? That’s what it feels like, anyway, as Sungho tracks his gaze.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you.”

Sungho’s ears burn. Dongmin isn’t even trying to be subtle anymore. If anybody else heard that, they’d be able to feel the intent from a mile away. It’s intense and obvious and not right for a plethora of reasons. Sungho’s embarrassed and ashamed and angry, but above all else, a twisted feeling of desire and relief bubbles to the surface. Yes. He wants this. He wants Dongmin to remember. He wants Dongmin to toss and turn in bed at night and wrap his hand around himself and fuck into his fist at the memory of it, of him, of them touching each other and whimpering each other’s names and tasting each other’s cum. He wants Dongmin to be so torn up about it he can’t think. He wants Dongmin to feel guilty for remembering, but not enough to stop. He wants Dongmin to see him.

The butterflies in Sungho’s stomach are violent and fluttering with one express purpose. He wonders if it shows on his face. 

“... Okay. That was me telling you it’s probably time for you to leave.”

Dongmin’s smile deepens and Sungho breathes out a poorly-disguised sigh. He turns again and starts emptying out his pockets onto a nearby shelf. “I’ve gotta shower and get ready for bed and stuff, so we can hang out another time, okay?” He tries to sound like he means it, but he doesn’t, and it just comes out kind of clipped and irritated. Dongmin watches him like a cat, and just when Sungho starts to worry that he won’t take the hint, he dips his head and pushes himself off of Sungho’s bed. Sungho exhales in relief.

Except Dongmin doesn’t leave. He hovers in front of Sungho, watches him dump his stuff onto his shelf with a curious look in his eye. Sungho glances at him once, questioning, then again, angrily, when he realizes he isn’t going anywhere. “Taesan, I’m serious.”

Dongmin’s eyebrow cocks just a smidge. “I am, too. I’m trying to see you, but you keep moving around and twitching like a bug.” And whose fault is that? Sungho snarks to himself. He huffs through his nose and pretends like he isn’t thriving under this amount of attention from Dongmin. 

“You can see me later.”

“I want to see you now.”

Sungho doesn’t have anything else to say. He could push Dongmin out and lock the door, but he won’t, because he doesn’t really want to. They can’t do this either, though; they can’t play games like they used to. Things are so much different now.

Sungho doesn’t answer, so Dongmin takes things into his own hands. Literally. He reaches up and grabs Sungho’s bicep. 

Dongmin’s forceful, but Sungho’s stronger now, so he’s able to quickly and easily shove him off. He’s frantic and panicked and scared. He reacts like he’s been electrocuted, and once he’s pried free, he takes a step back and stares at Dongmin like he’s just shot him in the chest. 

They stay in a quiet, loaded stalemate until Sungho finds his voice again. “... What is this about?” 

Dongmin takes a step forward, so Sungho takes a step back. “I-I just… y’know, I…” He trails off, nervous and uncertain, but he stalks Sungho like he knows exactly what he’s doing. He backs Sungho into the wall and takes his forearm into his hand; this time, Sungho lets him. 

“I miss you,” he confesses. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” Dongmin’s expression is nothing but lost and desperate and it stirs up a similar feeling deep within Sungho, too. His eyes search Sungho’s face as he purses his lips and takes in a big breath. “Just… one more time. One last time. That’s all I want.”

“We had our ‘last time’.” Sungho breathes. He states the obvious like Dongmin doesn’t know this, too, like he wasn’t the one who said it. Dongmin’s brows furrow and his gaze drops. 

“I know. I know, but… I mean, y-you want it too, don’t you…?” 

Sungho doesn’t answer.

“... You look at me like you want it.”

“I do not.”

“You do! You absolutely fucking do. Woonhak asked me about it the other day, he said, ‘Hyung, why does Sungho look at you like that?’. What was I supposed to tell him? That you still want me? That you still need me? … That I still need you, too?”

Sungho swallows hard. He needs this to stop. He needs Dongmin to stop talking.

“... Just one more. That’s all I’m asking for, please. Please, hyung. I’ll do anything.”

God, he’s pitiful. Just pitiful and pathetic. He’s begging for Sungho like a dirty abandoned dog begging for a home. Is that what Sungho is? Is Sungho his home, his owner? Dongmin wraps his other paw around Sungho’s arm and his claws dig into his skin like he really needs this. He doesn’t need Sungho, he never has. Who put this idea in his head? Who else can Sungho blame besides himself?

This isn’t his fault. It isn’t. He won’t claim this.

Still, what is he supposed to do?

Sungho’s hands slide up the backs of Dongmin’s elbows, his fingertips ghosting beneath the hem of his sleeves. “You know we can’t.”

Dongmin tightens his grip on Sungho’s arms. “We can. You can. You can take me right here and no one would ever know.”

Sungho bites the inside of his cheek and turns his head to the side. He can’t face him.

“Why are you being like this? You were like this before, too, y’know. So pent up and miserable all the time.” It hurts Sungho because it’s true. He is pent up, he is miserable. Dongmin could fix it.

Dongmin inhales and holds it. With his exhale, his quiet voice cracks.

“... I want you so bad.”

Sungho breaks. He chokes out a bitter laugh and hangs his head between his shoulders. “Fuck,” he croaks, “I– I don’t know. I do… want it, but I– Fuck, what am I supposed to do here?! As an idol, as someone who cares, I just… I don’t know, Taesan. I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then Dongmin shuffles closer. Then, even closer. Closer and closer until his mouth is right next to Sungho’s ear. 

“If you want it, then take it. It’s that easy.”

Shivers of cold arousal travel through Sungho’s body. “It’s not,” he protests, but it’s weaker than it should be. 

“It is. I’ll show you.” Dongmin’s hands slide up his arms and down his torso until they come to rest on his waist. “I’ll show you how easy it is.”

Dongmin squeezes his waist and noses against his ear and Sungho’s head falls back against the wall. It feels good. His eyes flutter shut and his hips push forward with the subtle guidance of Dongmin’s fingers. “We… We can’t. I’m not– I haven’t even showered yet…”

“Don’t care.” Dongmin nips the outer shell of Sungho’s ear. 

Frustrated, Sungho pushes against his shoulders. “N-No, that’s not– I mean, if we’re doing this, I have to… y’know… I have some stuff I gotta do first.”

Sungho’s entire face is red. He thinks he probably looks like a complete and total disaster, but then Dongmin pulls back and nope, he’s definitely worse. It flows from the tips of his ears down past the collar of his t-shirt. 

“I– um. I took care of that. On my end. If you’re okay with that.”

Sungho blinks. 

…

“... Oh!”

“Is that okay…?”

Sungho holds his biceps. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s, um, fine. That’s good. I just thought that with you, like, g-grabbing my butt and stuff, you’d… have a different preference. But no, that’s good. Good with me.”

Dongmin bites his bottom lip. “... Yeah. Okay.”

… It’s awkward again.

Just how many times is Sungho going to have to be brave? Dongmin came to him, he should be the one guiding. Instead, Sungho’s the one who has to ease him back and coax him into bed. He’s the one who crawls between his legs and situates him against his pillows and makes sure he’s comfortable. He kneels between Dongmin’s knees and slides his hands over the rough fabric of his jeans and nearly drools over how tight they are over his thighs. It feels so real to be nestled in his legs like this. He missed his smell. 

Dongmin doesn’t stop watching him. When they did this before, they had some trouble with eye contact and being watched– performance anxiety, shame, embarrassment, all of those normal things that come with hooking up with your teenage-hormone-riddled coworker– but clearly, that isn’t the case any more. Dongmin stares at him like he can’t afford to blink just in case he misses something. It’s not unattractive, necessarily, but it does make Sungho nervous. He slides his palms down Dongmin’s thighs and pushes his fingers into the knee holes of his jeans.

“I thought you took a shower,” Sungho comments. 

Dongmin shifts around on his elbows. “I did.”

Sungho chuckles. “You’re still in your outside clothes. On my bed, mind you.”

Dongmin blushes and turns his gaze to the wall. “I was in a rush! I wanted to be in here before you got home, so I just got in and did what I needed to do and then put my clothes back on.”

“You could’ve just left them off. I’ve seen you in your underwear before.” Sungho pushes his fingers a little farther under the layer of denim– the fabric pulls taut around his hand as his fingertips graze the soft skin of Dongmin’s thighs. Goosebumps rise under his touch.

“I didn’t wanna be too obvious in case you told me to fuck off,” Dongmin explains, but his volume gets lower and lower as Sungho inches further down his jeans. “But… you’re going to be taking them off anyway, aren’t you?”

Sungho glances up at him. They exchange sheepish grins and Sungho tucks his head down. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Sungho’s heart is thundering. He can hear it in his ears and feel it just behind his eyes, pulsing and throbbing with an unexpected spike of adrenaline. He squeezes Dongmin’s thighs; Dongmin jolts, surprised, and Sungho’s satisfied enough to remove his hands completely. He slides his palms down the sides of his legs, following the seam with his middle finger.

“Well…” Sungho anxiously taps Dongmin’s thigh. “... Ready?”

Dongmin stutters out a nervous laugh and fidgets around with his hands. “Y-Yeah. Let me just, uh–” He reaches hastily into his pocket and throws whatever was in it onto the bed. 

It’s a travel-size bottle of lube. It’s half full. Sungho’s face goes up in flames. 

Dongmin follows Sungho’s line of sight and scoops the bottle back up in his hand. He cradles it in his palm and picks at the label with his nail. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Sungho blinks at him. “... You think I don’t have my own?”

“I took all this effort to prepare, and you’re chastising me for it?”

… He’s right. Sungho turns his attention to Dongmin’s pants instead, and he hopes that the angle his face is at now does a better job of obscuring how flushed he is. He reaches boldly for Dongmin’s belt. 

Dongmin meets Sungho’s hands over his buckle. He looks frightened for a moment, but when Sungho looks back up and they make eye contact, he steadies his breath and lets go. Sungho tries not to let his nerves get the best of him and, though he trembles with every move, he gets his fingers under the leather strap and pulls it out of the loop. Hearing the metal clink sends shivers down his spine– it’s familiar but terrifying, especially now that it’s paired with the scent of Taesan, not Dongmin. He never thought he’d be able to associate the sound of a belt being unbuckled to this new version of an old friend, but it’s happening. His stomach swims in a sick sort of excitement. 

He hesitates as he reaches for Dongmin’s button. There’s no point, really, in being bashful, but he can’t help it. This is something he’s done before. With Dongmin, he’s practiced. He knows what his dick looks like, so something as simple as unbuttoning his jeans should be nothing. Still, every move is cautious, and the button popping makes both of them hold their breath. The zipper is worse, because the sound drags on for ages, and the tension just gets thicker and thicker each second Sungho stalls. 

Sungho hooks his fingers in Dongmin’s waistband and his breath hitches. Dongmin shifts his hips on the bed, half-helping and half-anxious. Sungho looks up at him for permission and he nods, chewing restlessly on his bottom lip. Sungho inhales through his nose and, with a forced air of confidence and nonchalance, begins tugging on Dongmin’s jeans. They don’t go easy, because all his jeans are well-fitting (read: tight), but Dongmin’s kind enough to lift up and use his own thumbs to push them over his backside. 

It’s humiliating, but Sungho gulps when he sees Dongmin in his boxers. He’s not really chubbed up enough to be visible through his underwear, but Sungho can just make out the outline of his cock and it’s already driving him nuts. His boxers are cute and blue, too. He used to wear almost exclusively black or grey or red, like he was being performatively dark and mature, but the blue suits him a lot more. It’s kind of boyish and soft, like the Dongmin Sungho used to know. His heart aches a little.

He pulls Dongmin’s jeans around his ankles and fights to tug them off of his feet. Once he’s got them removed, he balls them up and throws them on the floor. It’s uncharacteristic; Sungho isn’t a clean freak (he is), but he likes things to be orderly. Dirty laundry goes in the basket. Unless it’s Dongmin’s, he decides. That can go on the floor. He’s got bigger and better things to worry about right now.

Sungho glances back up at Dongmin to make sure he’s okay and God, he’s so fucking beautiful. He was handsome before, but they were barely more than children then, toeing the line between the end of puberty and the beginning of adulthood. Dongmin’s face has grown, along with his body, and he’s become a gorgeous, perfectly-chiseled masterpiece of a man. Sungho knows he isn’t bad– better than back then, he tells himself– but Dongmin… He’s something special. And he’s eye-fucking Sungho. Staring at him like they’ve already started having sex in his head. He’s flushed and a little sweaty even though he hasn’t done anything and his eyes are dark and half-lidded like he’s drunk off of anticipation. Sungho starts to sweat a little, too.

Sungho slides his hands over Dongmin’s upper thighs and up his hip bones. Dongmin shudders and Sungho swears he can see his dick twitch a little. He purposefully avoids it. 

He stops when his palms align with Dongmin’s navel. “Are you still okay?” He murmurs. 

Dongmin nods. “Great,” he breathes in response. “Are you?”

The corners of Sungho’s mouth quirk up. “Yeah,” he confirms quietly. He thumbs at the very edge of Dongmin’s waistband. “Can I keep going?”

Dongmin’s fingers brush softly against Sungho’s right arm. He nods without a word and Sungho mentally steels himself for what he’s about to confront.

This isn’t just about the sex. Yes, that’s a pretty major part of it, seeing as he’s about to get his hands all over Dongmin in a way that is absurdly inappropriate, but that’s not really the crux of it. 

Sungho buried all this a long time ago. Feelings. Feelings he wasn’t sure he had at the time, but now, with a more mature and experienced mindset, he knows were there. Some angry monster he let sit behind his ribs until it became feral and insatiable. A beast he fought without ever learning its name. He knows it now, at twenty-two years of age with twenty-twenty hindsight. He’d never say it out loud, but there was something there. There was a reason Dongmin was so hard to quit. It became more than just sex, and the more Sungho thinks about it, it started before then, too, with Dongmin’s pleading gaze boring holes into the side of his head. It began to fester when Dongmin came out to Sungho, bloomed when Sungho came out to Dongmin not long after. It grew so large and so quick, Sungho’s not sure how he missed it. The sex only made it worse, more obvious and dangerous. Sungho still can’t believe he let that happen. He can’t believe he’s letting it happen now.

But Dongmin’s too pretty. He’s too dedicated and thoughtful and tsundere in a way Sungho really likes. He touches too much and smiles too brightly. He responds too easily under Sungho’s hands, sparking like a chemical reaction. It’s hot, both literally and in the way that makes Sungho’s head spin. 

His fingers graze the skin under Dongmin’s last layer of clothing and it genuinely makes him feel like he might be dreaming. The thought of doing this again was nothing more than that, a sick, far-fetched dream. He’d think he was dreaming if he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of Dongmin’s body and see the beginnings of his happy trail peeking out of his boxers. Sungho takes a tentative hold of Dongmin’s waistband and begins pulling, one millimeter at a time. More of the hair is exposed, along with more pronounced lines pointing downwards like arrows. He follows them mindlessly, lifts the fabric up a little higher when he reaches the head of Dongmin’s cock. It’s almost fully hard now, likely driven by the heavy tension that Sungho's been dragging out for what feels like decades. His stalling paid off.

Dongmin’s dick is as nice as Sungho remembers it: dark pink and a little shiny and definitely bigger than Sungho’s. Dongmin sucks in a sharp breath as the cool air hits it and Sungho gets a bad idea.

He leans down a bit and blows cold air on the head. Dongmin yelps and scrambles up to a near-sitting position. Sungho pulls back right as Dongmin lands his palm heavy on his shoulder. “Hey!” Dongmin cries in annoyed disbelief. Sungho grins to himself and pushes Dongmin’s hand off– they end up in a childish pushing match until Dongmin can finally catch Sungho by his wrists. They’re both panting through laughter now. It feels strangely intimate, and not in a way they have been before. 

“Now is not the time.” Dongmin drops Sungho’s wrists and scolds him with a tone that says, “I can't believe you just did that.” Sungho feels bad and realizes he probably shouldn’t have done that– not when this is supposed to be something serious and not at all like the stuff they did when they were younger– but for some reason, seeing Dongmin smile and laugh and act like he usually does made this feel a little heavier.

Sungho remembers this one time years ago where they were feeling each other up in some tucked-away corner of the company building and Dongmin accidentally stepped on Sungho’s foot. Sungho yelled and tried to pull his foot away, but Dongmin didn’t release him quick enough and Sungho ended up falling flat on his ass. It was embarrassing and Sungho laughed mainly because Dongmin did, but as painful and humiliating as it was, it’s a memory Sungho cherishes. He remembers it when Dongmin laughs at some ridiculous thing Woonhak says. He sees that same amused glint in his eye when he spins around to hit Dongmin after his palm ghosts over his ass. Back then, all those years ago, he took Dongmin’s outstretched hand and swallowed down the butterflies threatening to fly out of his stomach and they touched each other with more confidence than before. He wants it to be like that this time, too. 

Maybe he should’ve tried something other than blowing cold air onto Dongmin’s erection. That was pretty stupid.

It’s not like Dongmin’s mad, at least. He’s staring at Sungho with a complex expression, but the fondness is there. Awkward, yes, and surprised, sure, but still kind. 

“Sorry,” Sungho manages. Dongmin scoffs and shakes his head. Sungho curls his fingers in the fabric of Dongmin’s boxers and begins to shimmy them further down; he smiles privately to himself and murmurs, “It was kinda funny, though.” Dongmin lightly kicks him in the stomach and Sungho laughs a little. “Don’t kick me. I’ll stop,” he threatens like this isn’t every fantasy he’s ever had for the last half-decade. Dongmin seems a little more domesticated as he nestles himself back against the pillows. 

Dongmin’s naked from the waist down now. Sungho’s seen him bare before, but never fully naked. He’d usually have his pants around his ankles, at least, just in case they had to pull them up super quick to keep from getting caught. Now, he’s laid out for Sungho in nothing but his t-shirt, and Sungho is fully intent on devouring him whole.

He discards Dongmin’s boxers and plants his hands over his hip bones. Sungho’s thumbs rest just shy of Dongmin’s dick, and with every soothing rub into his skin, his cock twitches. It’s mesmerizing to watch; each jerk soothes a panicked voice in Sungho’s overworked brain. He drags his thumbs down with a harder pressure until they just barely graze the base of Dongmin’s shaft. Dongmin’s hips jolt and Sungho’s pretty sure he whimpers, too. 

“Hyung,” he pouts. “Don’t– I’m not in the mood for teasing.” He’s out of breath already. Sungho’s bruised ego perks up. He pushes down further until his thumbs bracket Dongmin’s balls, then further, brushing curiously over his taint. Sungho’s never touched this part of another person before.

Dongmin whines again and reaches around blindly on the bed next to him. When he finds what he was searching for, he thrusts it in Sungho’s direction. “Just get on with it already, please.”

Sungho takes the lube, but he doesn’t use it yet. He rests his head against Dongmin’s bent knee and watches him try to keep his composure instead. “Are you sure?” He asks. He purposefully lets his lips brush against the sensitive skin of Dongmin’s inner knee and is deeply pleased by the shivering it produces. “You don’t wanna drag this on a little longer? Our ‘last hurrah’?”

Dongmin huffs like an angry kid and rolls his head to the side. “No.” 

Sungho hums and, without really thinking about it, presses a quick kiss to his knee. “Okay. I’ll start, then.” Dongmin exhales in what Sungho can only assume is relief.

This is the part he was worried about. Sure, he’s done this to himself, but only once or twice. Even then, he doesn’t think he was doing it right, so doing it to another person is a little…

He’s embarrassed to voice as much, but he probably should.

“I haven’t really, um…” He begins as he takes the lube and starts shaking some down to the cap. “Done this. So you’ll have to tell me what’s good and what’s bad, okay?” Dongmin licks his lips and swallows. 

“Okay. I don’t usually, like– y’know, I’m usually on top, so this is… kinda new for me, too. But I’ll tell you what to do, if you need me too.”

Sungho nods. That’s kind of hot.

He doesn’t need Dongmin to tell him to pour a generous amount of lube on his fingers and gently pry his legs apart, though. That much is obvious. Unfortunately, just looking at Dongmin’s hole is making Sungho freak out. He’s really about to put his fingers in there. And then– after that, he– he’s gonna–

Sungho’s cock is fully awake and pushing eagerly against his sweats. Not yet. 

Without too much of a nervous breakdown, Sungho scoots closer on his knees and properly situates himself between Dongmin’s legs. He’s primed and ready, he just needs to suck it up and actually do it. 

Sungho gingerly rubs two of his fingers against Dongmin’s hole with just the faintest amount of pressure. Dongmin sucks in a breath through his teeth and when Sungho’s gaze shoots up, he just wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “‘S cold.” Sungho gives him a soft apology under his breath and presses a little harder. He can feel Dongmin’s legs tense around him and distantly, he worries he’s already doing this wrong. Dongmin’s dick is still hard, though, which means he can’t be doing anything too bad. As long as Dongmin stays aroused and interested, Sungho can make just about anything work. He’s determined to not lose this chance.

The tip of Sungho’s middle finger presses tauntingly into the muscle of Dongmin’s rim. The feel isn’t too unlike a girl, and he has enough experience there to play around a little bit. He teases it, just barely dips his fingertip in and watches Dongmin’s legs twitch with anticipation. One of Sungho’s arms comes up to wrap around Dongmin’s left leg– he uses his knee as a headrest while his right hand learns this part of Dongmin he never got to see.

It feels unfair to compare Dongmin to Sungho’s past lovers, but it’s the only experience he has. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Dongmin feels wet like a woman, too. The sensation on his fingers is familiar and equally as pleasant as it always is and it stirs the boiling pot of arousal in Sungho’s stomach even more. His body is conditioned to know what comes next. 

Sungho slips his finger in up to the first knuckle and it makes Dongmin whine. He’s met with no resistance, but that’s to be expected, given Dongmin prepared for this. He doesn’t hesitate to keep pushing until his middle finger is fully inserted. Dongmin’s knees shake and Sungho can see him fighting the instinctual urge to close them. 

He wonders if he feels like this inside, too, all hot and tight in a way that makes Sungho start to salivate. 

“You good?” He asks after a hard swallow. Dongmin nods and Sungho’s cock jumps as he feels Dongmin purposefully clench around his finger.

“Do another already,” Dongmin breathes. “I’m so impatient I feel like I’m about to explode.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” Sungho protests, but he’s already circling his index finger around Dongmin’s rim. 

Dongmin purses his lips and tilts his head back. “You won’t hurt me, I promise. You’re hurting me by not doing it.”

Sungho isn’t sure that’s really the case, but he can’t deny that he wants to see Dongmin take more, too. Just the beginning of added pressure on his hole has Dongmin breathing heavier. When Sungho finally gets his index finger in and moves just a smidge, Dongmin starts making those embarrassing noises Sungho used to hear all the time. Admittedly, he missed them; he doesn’t think they’re embarrassing now, either. Dongmin’s still quiet, because that’s just how he is, but that’s what makes every sound, no matter how small, that much more rewarding. Sungho curls his fingers up and Dongmin flinches and hums out a moan. Fingers out, he holds his breath, and fingers in, he whimpers deep in his throat. It’s pretty. Sungho really, really likes it. 

Wordlessly, Sungho switches his index finger out for his ring finger, and the new control he has allows him to angle his fingertips in a way that makes Dongmin’s breath hitch. He pushes forward, shifting his pelvis into the motion as well, and Dongmin’s hips buck as a choked gasp is ripped from him. Sungho likes what he’s seeing, but he has to ask anyway. “Does it feel good?”

Dongmin squeezes his eyes closed and nods. He brings his arms up to cover his eyes and croaks out, “Yeah, fuck. Feels really good. I missed this.” He inhales sharply and exhales shakily as Sungho gently moves his fingers inside him. “Missed you so bad.”

This isn’t the time. It isn’t the time for Sungho’s heart to clench like Dongmin’s taken it out of his chest and is crushing it in his own fist. 

He’s wanted to hear that for so long. Sungho didn’t think he’d ever live to see the day Dongmin said something like that. Alluding to their past was one thing, but saying anything about enjoying or missing it was exponentially worse. They were forced to ignore it, and it was for the greater good, but that’s not something you can just forget overnight. They never spoke about it or even implied that they had been anything more than acquaintances, but Sungho held onto those memories for a long, long time. He still has them, shamefully tucked away in a dusty corner of his brain labeled “Emergency Use Only”. When Sungho would catch a glimpse of Dongmin’s midriff or when he would toss and turn in his bed at night, unable to sleep, or when he’d find himself standing in the exact spot in the exact vocal room Dongmin once gave him head, he’d dig those memories up for “emergency use”. When he was sure no one was looking, he’d pore over them like a man deprived, guiltily consuming and consuming when he knew he had no right. When he was done, he’d stash them away and pretend it never happened.

Dongmin has more-or-less just confirmed he’s been doing the same thing. 

Sungho stills. His brain struggles to fully compute what he’s being told– it’s so outlandish to him, Dongmin feeling what he’s been feeling, too– but once it’s settled enough, he turns his head and kisses the protruding bone of Dongmin’s knee. 

“... I missed you, too.”

Dongmin smiles a little, but his bottom lip starts to quiver. 

“Y’know, I– I really regretted it. I still do. I regret it so much, it makes me sick.

But I’ve regretted a lot of things. I regret missing school to become a trainee, I regret things I’ve said and done, I regret becoming an idol at all, and… look where it’s got me. I’ve regretted so much stuff that’s turned out okay and I just… I don’t know, I’m… I’m really grateful you’re still here. That you’re with me and doing this with me and that we get to do this together. That we still turned out okay. 

I mean, you’re… hah, you’re here. Now, like this, years after we…” Dongmin sniffles. “Fuck, you can just ignore all of this, but I really, really missed you, hyung. Like, really bad. You’re literally right here in front of me and I still miss you.” His voice tapers off, like he’s debating saying his next words. “… Is that bad? Is that bad of me?”

Sungho feels broken. He’s so used to over-thinking, over-analyzing every move and every word, that when his mind is clean and pure and empty, he doesn’t know what to do. It feels like something’s wrong, when really, he’s been given clarity. 

He leans over Dongmin. 

“... Are you crying?”

Dongmin hiccups and peeks out through a gap in his arms. “No. No, I– hmmph–!”

Sungho presses his fingers in deep. Dongmin’s knees try to turn inwards, but Sungho’s body prevents them from closing too much. In a strange, sadistic turn Sungho didn’t know he had, he fingers Dongmin a little harder and prepares him for a third. “You are. You’re crying.”

Dongmin shakes his head, but no amount of denial can mask the teary cracks in his moans. “Show me,” Sungho commands breathily. “Let me see.” Predictably, Dongmin’s bottom lip juts out and he tightens his arms over his face. 

If there’s one thing that’s changed since their trainee days, it’s their physique. Dongmin’s always been taller, but he was a little stronger back then, too. Now, their height difference is more than obvious, but Sungho’s caught up in the strength department. They’re about evenly matched now, but in this moment, it’s clear who’s stronger.

Sungho uses his free hand to pry Dongmin’s arms from his face. He fights a little at first, but once he realizes he won’t win, he relaxes and lets Sungho pin his hand next to his head.

His lashes are covered in glittering, unshed tears. His face and eyes are red and his lip is bitten almost raw and he looks so pitiful with his brows scrunched up like a crying child, all sad and pathetic. Sungho can only stare in admiration as his index finger rejoins the other two inside Dongmin and he gets to see his expression contort even more. 

“Pretty,” Sungho murmurs. He raises his voice and, with a stronger conviction than ever before, says, “You’re good, Dongmin. You’ve always been good. I’m gonna make sure you never regret me ever again. I promise you, you’ll never regret this.”

The first full tear rolling down Dongmin’s face seals the deal. Sungho’s always needed this. He’s needed to hear and say these things for a long, long time. 

Sungho curls his fingers with just the right amount of pressure to bend Dongmin’s back off the bed. He whines and turns his head to the side and Sungho can’t help but smile. He does it a few more times, just to hear the sweet little noises it pulls from Dongmin’s throat, before he relents and stops moving. He pulls his fingers out and Dongmin falls back onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

Sungho leans back on his legs and presses his cheek into Dongmin’s knee.

“You okay?”

Dongmin nods.

“... Still want me to fuck you?”

“God, yes,” Dongmin exclaims, good-humored and raspy from his crying. Sungho laughs and wipes his fingers on his sweatpants. 

“I just had to make sure.”

“I was sure hours ago,” Dongmin complains as he kicks his foot against the mattress in protest. Sungho furrows his brows and hooks his thumbs in the waistbands of his pants and boxers. He begins pushing them down together. 

“You wouldn't happen to have a condom in your pocket, too, would you?”

Dongmin sits up on his elbows. “... No.” He seems embarrassed– prepared for one thing, but not the other. “Do we need one?”

A fresh wave of heat rolls through Sungho’s body. He shimmies a little, nervous as he thinks it over. His thumbs fidget under his boxers. “I mean… we probably should.”

“ … But we don’t need to.”

Sungho flushes. “Well, no, but with everything else, I just assumed…”

“Assumed I would've thought that far ahead?” Dongmin grins a little. “Can't say I would've brought one even if I had remembered.”

Sungho groans and rolls his eyes to the side. “Don't say stuff like that,” he complains as he shifts his pants and underwear down another few centimeters. Dongmin follows the movement like he’s hypnotized. Sungho tries to be unceremonious as he finally reveals himself in full, but both he and Dongmin suck in a quick breath as his cock is exposed. 

Dongmin licks over his dry lips. “I mean it, though. I'm serious.”

Sungho ignores him in favor of pushing his clothes down over his knees and pulling them off of his ankles. They’re both bare from the waist down now and, despite the absence of layers, Sungho's hotter than he was before. 

Dongmin’s staring again. Sungho resituates himself between Dongmin’s legs and the new position nearly lines their dicks up perfectly. Without a shred of hesitation, Dongmin reaches for Sungho. His fingers land on the sensitive head of his cock and Sungho hisses through his teeth. His hips jerk back, overwhelmed from the sudden touch. Dongmin pulls back for a moment, like he’s reconsidering, or maybe even feeling a little guilty, but then he doubles down and wraps his entire hand around Sungho’s shaft.

Sungho gasps. He can't tear his eyes away from the sight of Dongmin’s pretty hand wrapped so nicely around his cock– Dongmin gives him one good tug and Sungho’s already starting to leak a little. He wants to bite back, tell Dongmin to keep his paws off, but it feels so good to be touched again. Touched by a man, by Dongmin, the only boy he's ever let experience this part of him. He turns this thing Sungho’s only ever seen as dirty into something precious, something to be treated kindly and gently. It isn’t a dirty side of him if it's being shared with Dongmin. It’s always been clean and right with him.

Dongmin’s fingers caress his tip and Sungho moans. It isn’t muffled or painful like it used to be, either. It's normal. He echoes what he’s learned from Dongmin, this new appreciation for being open and transparent. Dongmin must be pleased, because his cock jumps against his stomach. “Fuck,” he murmurs as he repeats the action. “Need this in me.” Sungho moans again and Dongmin laughs like he can’t believe it.

When Dongmin releases him, Sungho feels like he can breathe again. He regains control and takes Dongmin by the hand. Impatiently, he throws his arm back against the mattress and pushes him down onto his back by his chest. “I'm trying.” Dongmin blinks up at him, all wide-eyed and pleading in a way only Dongmin can do, and Sungho resolves once again to make this good for him. 

Sungho reaches around for the lube. He probably doesn't need it, given Dongmin’s thorough preparation and the amount of self-lubricating Sungho’s doing himself, but he wants this to be as smooth and enjoyable as possible. Once he finds it, he hastily squeezes some straight onto his dick. It’s cold and makes him twitch, but it warms up the moment he gets his hands down there to spread it around. The confident friction feels so good, he almost forgets why he’s there in the first place, but then Dongmin whines quick and low in his throat, like watching Sungho pleasure himself is hurting him somehow. He’s getting impatient, too.

Sungho takes a deep breath and lines himself up. Dongmin’s hole is fluttering with anticipation and Sungho feels like he could drool just brushing the head of his cock against it. He’s never done this before. Dongmin knows that, and he wouldn't give him hell for it, but Sungho really doesn’t want to mess anything up. As excited as he is, he's still scared. He doesn’t want to lose this.

“Are you–”

Dongmin cuts him off with agonized, fed-up laughter. “Oh my God, just do it already! You're driving me fucking crazy, hyung.”

Sungho gulps and nods. “Right. Okay. Let me know if it hurts.”

Dongmin doesn’t answer, just shifts his hips further down the bed. Sungho tries to steady his breathing as he angles his shaft and comes to terms with what he’s about to do. This is something he used to punish himself for thinking about; if little eighteen-year-old him knew what he was getting ready to do, he'd probably get sick on the floor. That all-too-familiar sickness is still boiling in his stomach, but instead of pure anxiety like it used to be, it's happiness, too. He’s going to make this good for the both of them.

There's minimal resistance as he finally pushes against Dongmin’s rim. He slips in without much of a fight, and the moment he does, a breathy moan is pulled from both of them. Sungho glances up to gauge Dongmin’s reaction. His face is scrunched up, but he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. He pushes in a little further and Dongmin’s head falls back against the pillows. He whimpers and grasps the sheets for dear life.

Sungho wants to go slower, but Dongmin’s literally sucking him in. It feels so much different than what he’s used to. Dongmin’s tight and the pressure is almost crushing, but Sungho really likes it; he finds likes it even more as he inches deeper and deeper into Dongmin. Every centimeter has Dongmin gasping and twitching and grimacing like he can’t decide if he loves the feeling or hates it. Sungho reminds himself that Dongmin isn’t too experienced with this, either, and that eases his nerves a little more. 

By the time he bottoms out, they're both panting and breathless. Dongmin’s flushed dark red down past the collar of his shirt. Sungho leans over his torso and just that slight movement makes Dongmin’s breath hitch.

“You okay?” Sungho murmurs as he brushes a strand of hair from Dongmin’s sweaty forehead. 

Dongmin purses his lips and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it's just–” He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale as Sungho shifts inside him again. “It's just a little weird.”

“Does it hurt?”

Dongmin shakes his head.

“... Does it feel good?”

Dongmin scoffs and throws one of his arms over his eyes. “I don’t know. I think so.” There's a beat of silence before he follows up with, “... You should move so I can make sure.”

Sungho doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls out, as gently as he can, before pushing back in at the same pace. It feels incredible on his end, but he’s more concerned with Dongmin's pleasure than his own. A moan is finally punched out of Dongmin’s throat on the third restrained thrust Sungho does and it's like an award ceremony goes off in Sungho’s head. 

Sungho strokes Dongmin’s cheekbone and fucks him in a gentle rhythm. “How’s that? That okay?”

Dongmin whines pitifully and pulls his knees back towards himself. His ankles press into Sungho’s back. “Do more,” he brats. 

Like a well-trained dog, Sungho does exactly what Dongmin asks. He pulls back faster and pushes back in rough and the sound it produces out of Dongmin is like music to his ears. It’s loud and unforgiving and leaves Dongmin open and bare for Sungho to see. Just when he thought he knew everything there was to know about Dongmin, he shows him something new. 

Sungho does it again and gets a similar response. Then again. Then again. Then again. 

Dongmin isn’t ashamed like Sungho is. But he’s always been like that, since the day they met, and it’s a quality Sungho can’t imagine him without. It carries over into sex. Dongmin’s embarrassed, sure, but it’s an embarrassing position he's in with an equally-embarrassing partner in an overwhelmingly embarrassing location. Sungho’s bed hasn't seen a naked body that wasn't Sungho’s himself. As much as Sungho would love for Dongmin to spill every fibre of his being into his sheets, he has to teach him the beauty of being contained, too.

One moan too many has Sungho pausing to catch his breath and assess the situation. “You have to be quiet,” he pants as Dongmin trembles like a leaf in a windstorm. Sungho isn’t even entirely sure Dongmin heard him, but he manages to get out a choked “sorry” and slides his arm over his mouth. The new visual makes Sungho want to rail him silly, but he composes himself for their sake and their peers’. 

Sungho pulls out and Dongmin shakes like he’s being electrocuted; his dick slaps wet and needy against his toned stomach. He looks at Sungho like he’s just betrayed him. In a gesture he hopes is soothing, Sungho leans down and kisses the center of his chest. His heart, he thinks. “Roll over for me.”

Dongmin is very much the questioning type, but in this moment, he doesn’t so much as bat an eye at the request. He crawls onto his stomach and buries his face in one of the pillows, just like Sungho had hoped he would. 

Sungho gets to see even more of Dongmin like this. The cute dimples just above his butt, the silhouette of his waist, the nape of his neck, red and sticky with sweat. Sungho pushes his shirt up over his back and he can see even more of him then, the valleys and bumps of his muscle and bone. He presses a kiss to Dongmin’s spine and he flinches away from it. “Quit it,” he mumbles into the pillow. Sungho smiles. He doesn’t apologize.

Sungho uses one hand to pull at Dongmin’s ass cheek. The other steadies his dick, wet and eager, and he allows himself only a few seconds for admiration before he's pushing back in.

Dongmin groans into the pillow. It isn’t completely silent– that’s not what Sungho would've wanted, anyway– but it’s much better than before. Sungho plans to show him as much.

Sungho bottoms out and begins his first thrust by caging Dongmin in between his arms. “See?” He breathes against his shoulder blades. “Much better. Sanghyuk won't hear a thing.”

“He’s not even home,” Dongmin bites. Always so eager to bicker, even when Sungho’s five-and-a-half inches deep inside him. 

Sungho just huffs out a laugh against his skin. “He will be, eventually. It'd be bad if he caught us.”

Dongmin clenches around Sungho’s dick. Sungho’s hips stutter. That's interesting.

Dongmin doesn’t talk back after that, so Sungho rewards him by sitting up on his knees and giving him a few hard thrusts. Dongmin hugs Sungho’s pillow to his face and moans freely. Sungho’s amused by the way he can feel Dongmin’s muscles contract around his dick. He’s doing a very good job at keeping himself level-headed, but deep down, he's spiraling because he knows he won't be able to quit this. It’s like the first drag of a cigarette: it seems like a one-time rush of adrenaline and dopamine, but there’s no way Sungho won't get addicted. Dongmin’s just so perfect, and he feels like heaven when Sungho’s deep inside him like this. His rich heat engulfs Sungho from the outside in. 

Sungho watches himself plunge into Dongmin over and over again. It only serves to fuel the flame licking cruelly in his abdomen. Dongmin must be feeling it, too, because he hikes one of his legs up, granting Sungho a better view. Sungho grinds his hips against Dongmin’s and commits everything– the sound, the feel, the smell– of this exact moment to memory. 

Sungho isn’t sure he’s ever felt this much pleasure before. He lends part of that to the catharsis of it all; this release has been long-awaited, and now that it’s happening, it’s a tidal wave of pure bliss. But Dongmin’s been really good, too, at setting this mood and carving out the path to get Sungho here. Sungho doesn’t think the whole body-touching thing was done with ulterior motives, but it definitely guided his brain back to all the inappropriate thoughts and feelings he’d shoved down. Dongmin was upfront with his desires and carefully constructed the atmosphere to be heavy and tense and electric. He willingly gave up a part of himself to Sungho that he’d never given to anybody before. Sungho took the bait– he’s lucky the hook isn’t so sharp.

He uses Dongmin’s bent leg as leverage and pushes in as far as he can. Dongmin muffles a low, drawn-out groan and arches back into Sungho’s hips. Sungho swears under his breath; he can feel Dongmin’s insides flutter and pulse and it makes his lower abdomen clench. He’d dreamt of something like this, of course, but in all his years of fitful fantasizing, he’d never once thought it could feel this good. It’s nothing like the sex he’s had before. It feels wrong and selfish to be given this much pleasure. He can only hope Dongmin’s feeling it, too.

Sungho has to take a moment to catch his breath. As physically fit as he is, this whole situation has taken a lot out of him, and his chest is starting to ache. Still, he doesn’t want to deprive Dongmin, so he switches to a gentle grinding instead of thrusting. He uses one hand to push his damp hair out of his face and the other rubs up and down the expanse of Dongmin’s back. 

“How are you doing?” He asks softly. Dongmin groans and buries his face deeper into Sungho’s pillow. Sungho huffs in amusement and pinches the sensitive skin on the side of Dongmin’s hip– he yelps and flinches and tightens around Sungho, a prime example of instant karma. “That’s not an answer,” Sungho scolds with a lazy grin. 

Dongmin releases his pillow for long enough to give Sungho a shaky thumbs up. Sungho laughs. It may not be the verbal answer he was looking for, but it’s good enough. As a reward, he lays himself over Dongmin’s body and grinds into him a little harder. Sungho’s inches from his face now, and the closed distance makes every little sound that gets punched out of Dongmin’s throat ring loud and clear in Sungho’s ears. Sungho noses against his neck and smiles. “Yeah? Good?”

A watery “Yeah” is smothered in Sungho’s pillowcase. Sungho’s quite pleased with himself. 

He plants a kiss on Dongmin’s neck and that seems to get a rise out of him. He starts moving his hips on his own now, rutting against Sungho’s pelvis while simultaneously fucking his weeping cock into the mattress. Sungho lets him for a while, because it’s cute to watch him struggle, but he can’t leave him helpless for too long. He mouths along the sweaty base of his neck and inhales the scent like he needs it to breathe. It’s good, it’s familiar. It makes him want even more. 

Sungho pushes himself up on his hands and finally gives Dongmin some relief. He pistons into him and is given several beautiful moans in return. Every time Sungho thinks he might get used to the feeling, Dongmin’s insides quiver and he’s left breathless once again. Even worse, he’s doing this. Sungho’s the one making Dongmin hot and wet and desperate. He’s the one pulling all these pretty noises out of him, he’s the one making him clench and cry and beg. The very worst part is that he can’t imagine having this with anyone else.

Sungho thinks about Dongmin touching himself. Reaching around to rub against his hole for Sungho’s sake and no one else’s, imagining it was Sungho’s fingers pushing into him instead of his own. Whining and pleading for his hyung without ever knowing if he’d answer his call. Pathetic and deprived, just like Sungho’s been all this time.

They’ve both had partners between their separation and present day. Sungho got to know the touch of someone that wasn’t Dongmin, and Dongmin got to play like he’d always wanted to. It was nice, of course, and a welcome distraction, but it never fully scratched that itch. Sungho always felt like he was missing something. He could have the best orgasm of his life and still be left wanting more. That frustration of never being fully satisfied steadily burned a hole in him, one he had come to terms with never being filled. He was fine with it. He grew to understand that sometimes, loss is necessary.

But now? With Dongmin’s claws deep in his skin once again? Dongmin, so eager to fill and be filled? He can’t fathom how he ever thought he could live without this. Without him. He’s perfect. He’s the perfect solution.

Dongmin’s pitiful moans are noticeably louder now, even with the pillow to muffle them. If he’s feeling anything like Sungho is now, he’s half out of his mind and drunk on deep hot pleasure. Sungho nearly reminds him to be quiet, but as Dongmin trembles and grasps behind his back for Sungho’s hand, he knows he can’t say anything. He can hear everything Dongmin’s feeling. He can feel it in the way he tightens and twitches. Sungho takes his hand and pins it behind his back with a reassuring squeeze. He uses his grip to push Dongmin further into the mattress and Dongmin gasps sharply. “Hyung,” he garbles into the pillow. “Hyung.”

Sungho’s more-or-less deduced what angle and depth makes Dongmin feel the best. He tries to keep his thrusts consistent, hitting that spot over and over until Dongmin’s legs are shaking uselessly against the bed. It pleases him, too, both physically and mentally. Dongmin’s muscles convulse every time Sungho drills into that spot, adding more and more fuel to Sungho’s building climax, but he loves knowing he’s making Dongmin experience something just as good. He’s giving him what he needs. 

Dongmin thrashes and balls up a handful of Sungho’s pillowcase in his fist. Sungho can’t see his face, unfortunately, but he can imagine it. His brows knit and his mouth hanging open and dried tear tracks staining his bright red cheeks. Sungho won’t be able to see him orgasm this time, but he thinks he can live with that.

Dongmin cums like he used to. His moans increase in pitch and volume until he ultimately sucks in a sharp breath and holds it. Sungho can feel his orgasm roll through every part of his body. He throbs and clenches around Sungho’s dick as his hips stutter against the sheets, painting them with his cum. Sungho can’t help but groan and dig his fingernails into the meat of Dongmin’s hand. When the initial waves subside, Dongmin yanks his face out of the pillow and lets out a final cry. He can’t stop twitching and the extra movement is driving Sungho crazy. That was so hot.

Once Dongmin’s breathing steadies, Sungho steels himself and pulls out. Dongmin whimpers and trembles at the sudden loss. “No,” he whines as he rolls onto his side. He tries to support himself on his elbows, but they don’t do him much good. They buckle and he collapses onto his shoulder instead. “Keep going.”

Sungho swallows hard and gropes Dongmin’s thighs. “A-Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

Dongmin glares at him– as much as he can in his exhausted post-orgasmic bliss, anyway– and lifts his hips up on unsteady knees. “Yeah,” he assures, breathless. “Want it.”

Sungho’s body is screaming at him for release. He can’t take it anymore. He’s never felt so on the edge, so ready to break. Dongmin’s offering up something he can’t refuse. 

Sungho leans back on his knees. “Roll over.”

Dongmin is quick to situate himself just how Sungho needs. He lies on his back, head cushioned in the pillows he so lovingly covered in drool, sweat and tears. He spreads his legs for Sungho and lazily palms his softening dick. It’s a sight Sungho swears he’s gonna burn into the back of his eyelids. 

Sungho keeps a cautionary eye on Dongmin as he pushes back in. He knows he’s probably reaching his limit, if he hasn’t hit it already. Sungho doesn’t want to hurt or overstimulate him. He’d be happy just jerking off and calling it a night, but Dongmin is insistent, and when Sungho hesitates about halfway in, Dongmin rolls his hips down onto Sungho’s cock. 

When he’s all the way back in, Dongmin whines and reaches out for Sungho. He wraps his arms around his neck (the closet, the shelf, the knot on the back of Sungho’s head) and pulls him in close. Sungho moves like a man possessed, staring in awe and fondness at Dongmin’s fucked-out face. Dongmin tugs harder and whimpers in overstimulation. Sungho can smell his breath in the air between them. How can he still smell the same as he did back then? When he’d tried and failed to kiss Sungho, when they would pant in each others’ faces as they got each other off, it’s all had the same smell. It takes Sungho back to that special place in his brain reserved for bad ideas and monumental mistakes. He remembers their last time (centimeters apart, aching for something heavier) and how it reminds him of the way he feels now, except it’s Dongmin underneath him this time and he has the control to do what he knows he needs to do. 

It’s no question. If not now, then when?

Sungho takes the plunge. 

He’d thought a lot about what their first kiss would’ve been like. Clumsy, awkward, unsure… All these things that reflected their relationship when it first began. Sungho never let himself imagine what it’d be like now, as adults. 

It’s like a firework. A sparkler, lighting and firing embers in every direction. Pretty like glitter but hot enough to burn. It makes Sungho feel like a garden is blooming deep inside his chest, pushing hard and painful against his sternum, begging to be let out. He uses his mouth to open Dongmin up and uses his tongue to keep him there. It’s hot inside his mouth and he tastes just how he’s always smelled. 

Dongmin kisses like he’s been starved for it. He probably has been, Sungho reckons. How long has he been waiting for this? Four years? More? When did this craving start for him? Was it when he came out, or was it before that? Was it when he first laid his sorry eyes on Sungho? Sungho wishes he knew just how deep this ran, and how deep it still runs to this day. 

Sungho’s orgasm builds with each pass of their tongues. It’s messy and gross but it’s full and passionate and unloads years of unspoken confessions and apologies and vows to do better. Sungho pushes his “I’m sorry”’s and his “I love you”’s down Dongmin’s throat. It’s the only way he knows how. 

He fucks Dongmin harder and harder until finally, he can’t take it anymore. He cums and it’s like explosions are set off behind his eyes. He sees white stars on a black background and moans directly into Dongmin’s waiting mouth. He spills deep inside Dongmin, paints his insides and marks his place. Dongmin wraps his legs around Sungho’s midsection and locks him in. He kisses Sungho frantically, like he’s making up for all the time they lost. Time they may continue to lose. 

Sungho can hardly breathe. Dongmin inhales his every exhale. Dongmin keeps him, selfishly, and licks into him like he’s trying to memorize every point of his teeth and every ridge in the roof of his mouth. Sungho’s more than happy to take it– the sensation makes him feel complete, somehow. He leaves himself open for Dongmin to taste.

He does have to pull out eventually, though, and it’s unpleasant for both of them. They lock lips as Sungho pulls back and they both grimace as his half-hard cock falls between their legs. Cum threatens to dribble out of Dongmin’s hole and Sungho can tell it’s making him uncomfortable. His legs try to close, but Sungho’s in the way. When they break their kiss, they both pant and struggle to catch their breath. It’s hard to bring this moment to a close, but Sungho knows they don’t have a choice.

Sungho leans back on his knees and Dongmin goes limp on the bed. Through his heaving breaths, Sungho rubs his palms over Dongmin’s thighs and down his legs. It only feels appropriate to soothe him after everything they’ve just been through. Dongmin sniffles and lets himself be caressed. 

He always hates being the one to interrupt the silence, but Sungho knows he has to. “... Are you okay?”

Dongmin laughs briefly through his nose and stares at the ceiling with a dazed look in his eyes. “Oh my God.”

“Is that a good ‘Oh my God’?”

Dongmin grins. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Fuck.”

A wave of relief washes over Sungho. His shoulders relax and he rubs his palms over Dongmin’s knees. “Good.” He sighs before quietly adding, “Me too.”

Sungho crawls back on his knees until he can swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He feels weak, but not too weak to move like he assumes Dongmin is. He takes a beat to admire Dongmin in his most vulnerable state. Half-naked on Sungho’s bed, flushed and blissed-out and covered in drying sweat and cum. He’s beautiful. 

Standing on his feet is disorienting. He feels light-headed and distant as he pads over to his discarded clothes and shimmies his boxers back on. He’s still dirty and uncomfortable, but at least he’s covered. 

He walks back to the bed and rests his hand on Dongmin’s calf. “I’ll be right back, okay?” Dongmin’s eyes flutter shut and he hums in acknowledgement. 

Sungho’s really glad Sanghyuk hasn’t come home yet. He checks the time and realizes they were in there for at least three hours. It felt like fifteen minutes. 

He takes time in the bathroom to wipe himself down. He washes his face and upon seeing himself in the mirror, he doesn’t feel immediate shame or guilt. It’ll come later, he’s sure, but right now, he sees his reflection and thinks it looks happy. A hopeful little butterfly reemerges from his stomach and settles contentedly in his chest. He pats his face dry with a washcloth before running the same cloth under warm water. Maybe… Maybe, for once, this can be okay.

Sungho listens for the tell-tale beeping of the keypad being punched, but still, nothing comes, so he darts out of the bathroom and back to his bedroom, a damp cloth in one hand and a dry one in the other. 

When he opens his door, Dongmin’s sitting up on the edge of the bed. He’s slipped his boxers back on, which kind of defeats the purpose of Sungho fetching him a washcloth, but he doesn’t mention it. They make eye contact and Sungho knows he must turn red because Dongmin smiles at him and turns red, too. He doesn’t say anything, though, so Sungho just approaches him without a word. He extends his hand to offer Dongmin the damp cloth and he’s quick to take it. He drags it over his face, scrubbing away the remnants of his drool and tears. Sungho perches on the bed next to him, waiting pensively for… something. He isn’t sure. 

Dongmin finishes wiping his face and drops his hands into his lap. Sungho half-expects him to speak, but he doesn’t. That awkward air they’ve grown so used to returns with a vengeance. 

Sungho doesn’t think they should talk about it. Not yet, anyway. Not while they can still be under the illusion of carelessness. 

Dongmin looks up at the exact same moment as Sungho. It’s like their gazes meeting ignites a spark, a current of static electricity that crackles between their bodies. It’s tense. 

Then Dongmin’s lunging for Sungho. 

He grabs him by the shoulders and shoves him back onto the bed. Sungho yelps, but before he can come to terms with what’s happening, Dongmin’s looming over him. He presses his lips firmly into Sungho’s.

This kiss is different. It isn’t wet, it isn’t messy, it isn’t rushed. It’s not being done to reach some sort of goal. 

Dongmin kisses him like they’re lovers. 

It takes Sungho a moment to catch up, but once he does, he’s all in. His eyes flutter shut and he knows that he has to take what he’s being given. This is like waking up on Christmas Day and opening all your gifts all at once. This is like that time when Sungho told Dongmin all those years ago that they’re the same. This is what it feels like to complete your bucket list just to kill yourself the following day. He’s been spoiled, and this is his last chance to enjoy it. 

Dongmin’s lips are so soft and plush. Sungho nips and kisses and chases like he’s addicted. Dongmin pushes, too, seeking out Sungho’s mouth and taking every inch of it he can get. There’s no tongue, no spit, no rush. It’s just them, on their time. They both understand what this means and how they may never get this back. 

Sungho could do this forever. If it weren’t for their damning circumstances, he would. He could get lost in this. 

Dongmin pulls back slowly. They separate, and then Dongmin presses a quick chaste peck to Sungho’s lips as punctuation to that sentence. He starts a new one by brushing Sungho’s hair out of his eyes. Sungho doesn’t know why, but Dongmin laughs and drags his thumb over Sungho’s browbone.

“Hyung. You’re crying.”

Sungho blinks. What?

He didn’t even notice his eyes were welling up until Dongmin pointed it out. Now that he thinks about it, his eyes are stinging. Sungho’s eyes widen and he reaches up to rub his fingers over one of them. Dongmin just laughs again, soft and fond, and leans down to kiss his cheek. “It’s okay. It’s only fair that you cry, too.”

Sungho sniffles and chuckles tearfully. “I guess so.”

Dongmin flops down next to him with a satisfied sigh. Sungho swallows around the lump in his throat and wills his tears to subside. Now’s not the time to be crying. This is a good thing. A happy thing. 

Dongmin reaches around until he finds Sungho’s hand. He links their index fingers together. 

Silence isn’t always bad. Sungho had associated it with anxiety and fear and regret. He doesn’t feel much of that now. Silence is a warm blanket now, wrapping around them and keeping them in their cozy little bubble.

After a minute or two, Dongmin has to pop it. 

“I…” He pauses like he’s rethinking his words. “I’m really glad we did that.”

Sungho stares up at the ceiling and nods. “... Yeah. Me too.”

“You’re okay, then?”

“I’m okay,” Sungho confirms with a slight smile. “I wasn’t sure I would be, but I am.”

Sungho feels like he’s dreaming. This doesn’t feel real. Looking back, none of it has. Not Dongmin sitting on his bed waiting for him, not the admission of lingering feelings, not the crying or the sex or the kissing. It feels distant, like it didn’t even happen to him at all. It’s like he watched everything happen from a third-person point-of-view, detached from his body as a whole. He doesn’t think he deserved any of this. 

It’s his fault in the first place that Dongmin ran away. He shoved him away like a corned animal because he couldn’t come to terms with his own hunger. It all worked out in the end, and maybe this was really the best case scenario, but it still hurts to think about. He caused Dongmin so much grief, and it only reflected back on himself. The sleepless nights and tense, awkward silences during work and the toeing of a line that Sungho drew when he felt he had no other choice. 

Dongmin, who’s out and open and stole Sungho’s bravery right out from under him. Sungho, a pathetic coward who only formally came out to Sanghyuk just last month. He can’t tell his family, his friends, his groupmates. Dongmin can brandish the same thing Sungho sees as a curse as something to be proud of. 

Sungho has some deep-rooted shame to work through. He could do it alone, but he isn’t sure he wants to. 

Dongmin curls his finger around Sungho’s a little tighter. “I’m really happy you’re okay, hyung. Really happy.” 

Sungho smiles as the butterflies return to their home in his stomach. “Don’t get all sappy on me right now, please.” Dongmin laughs and bumps their shoulders together. It feels good. 

Sungho inhales deep through his nose. He turns his head to look at Dongmin and, to his surprise, he’s already looking straight back at him. It isn’t often he feels seen like this, but Dongmin’s staring at each and every part of him and loving it for what it is. It’s a little embarrassing, but he finds he doesn’t mind it. Dongmin’s the only one who’s ever truly seen him at his most vulnerable. If he can still like him like this, then Sungho’s not worried.

Sungho exhales while smiling like a lovesick idiot. Dongmin mirrors it and the butterflies become a bit too violent for Sungho’s liking. “Alright!” He exclaims, pushing at Dongmin’s shoulders. “Up! Go to the bathroom so we can go to bed!”

Dongmin groans and ragdolls against Sungho’s hands. “But I’m tired,” he pouts. Still, despite his complaints, he eventually lets himself be pushed into a sitting position. Sungho sits up on his elbows and nudges Dongmin’s back with his foot. He shoos him off and Dongmin stumbles out of the room and down the hall. 

Sungho takes this moment to remake his bed. He strips his sheets and balls them up in the hamper– Dongmin’s pants are quick to follow, along with the sweats Sungho refuses to put back on. His pillowcases are a lost cause for the night, so he gets rid of them, too. It takes a fresh set of sheets and a new change of clothes for Sungho to feel right again. 

When Dongmin comes back, he’s fully changed, too. He must’ve stopped by his room after he got cleaned up– Sungho wouldn’t have turned him away if he wanted to get into his fresh bed with dirty clothes, but he wouldn’t have been thrilled, either. It goes without saying that Dongmin’s staying here tonight. 

Sungho crawls under the blankets and, with his back against the wall, gestures for Dongmin to join him. It’s a little awkward, but he manages to slot himself right up against Sungho. He turns so he’s facing away; it might be nice to lay face-to-face, but it’s day one of God knows how many, so Sungho decides he won’t push for it. He rests his arm over Dongmin’s midsection and buries his nose in the hair at the nape of his neck. He smells like sweat and shampoo and his unique personal scent that hasn’t changed a bit in over four years. 

The bedside table calls to Sungho. He reaches over Dongmin and fumbles for his phone– Dongmin barely stirs, not asleep but too comfortable to react. Once he gets it, he opens his messages and shoots Sanghyuk a text. He asks when he’s coming home. 

Almost immediately, he gets an answer. He’s staying with Jaehyun, so don’t worry about it. Sungho smiles into Dongmin’s hair and tightens his hold around him. “Sanghyuk’s staying downstairs tonight.”

Dongmin chuckles sleepily. “So you won’t kick me out at three in the morning?”

“Mm, probably not. Just don’t crush me. And if I get too hot, you’re gone.”

Dongmin curls in on himself, looking content like a cat in a sunbeam. “I won’t,” he murmurs, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Sungho nuzzles into his neck. 

“Good. I don’t want you to leave again.”