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The distance between them has been unbearable lately..
It feels like their relationship has been reduced to quiet, creeping spaces between them, seconds where Hongjoong’s hand doesn’t quite find his anymore, moments where their laughter fades too quickly. It’s been trimmed down to fit into a schedule that allows no room for it.
Seonghwa has to keep reminding himself that it’s not sudden and that nothing happened, they are just tired and busy.
He lies on his side in bed, staring at the faint glow of the city slipping through the curtains. His phone rests face-down on the nightstand, silenced. There’s a dull ache behind his eyes that has nothing to do with exhaustion, though that’s there too, woven into his bones. He exhales slowly, fingers curling into the sheets. It’s fine. It’s temporary. Promotions are always like this—tight schedules, endless rehearsals, late-night recordings. They’ve been through it before. They know how this goes.
Once it’s over, things will go back to normal like they always have in the past four years. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.
It’s not like they don’t try. That’s what makes it harder to resent, harder to blame anything solid. They talk, so much sometimes, sitting across from each other in half-empty waiting rooms or whispering in the dark about how they miss each other, how they’ll fix it, how they just need a little more time.
The frustration never turns into anger toward each other. It turns outward, into the schedules that swallow them whole, into the managers knocking on doors and the ticking clock that never seems to pause long enough for them to just be.
They try to compromise, and carve out pieces of time and call them dates. Like a quick grocery run or a late-night convenience store trip where Hongjoong buys him snacks he doesn’t even really want but eats anyway because it feels like something. Falling asleep together has become a daily occurrence as sometimes that’s all they get, tangled in blankets for a few fleeting hours before one of them has to leave again.
It’s supposed to be enough. Seonghwa squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into the pillow. It has to be enough.
The door opens softly behind him. He doesn’t need to turn to know it’s Hongjoong. The shift in the air is familiar, the quiet way he moves even after all these years, trying not to disturb Seonghwa. The bed dips and warmth settles behind him that makes him smile slightly. An arm slips around his waist and Hongjoong presses in, chest to his back, nose brushing the nape of his neck. “Still awake?” he murmurs, voice low, rough with fatigue.
Seonghwa hums in response, something soft and noncommittal. He leans back slightly, letting himself be pulled closer, because this—this part still comes naturally. Hongjoong’s warm hand spreads over his stomach, thumb tracing idle patterns into naked skin. His lips follow, breath warm against Seonghwa’s neck as he presses gentle kisses along the curve of it.
It’s familiar and comforting and Hongjoong’s kisses linger longer than usual, trailing down his body which is exciting. His hand tightens at Seonghwa’s waist, pulling him back more firmly, bodies fitting together perfectly.
“Hyung…” Hongjoong breathes, softer now, the word brushing against his skin.
Seonghwa’s chest tightens. They don’t always have the energy for this. On most nights, it’s just holding each other until sleep takes over too quickly. But sometimes, on nights like this, when there’s just enough left in them—they try to keep this part alive too. It’s another way of staying close and not letting the distance win.
He swallows, nodding faintly. His hand comes up to rest over Hongjoong’s where it’s splayed against him, fingers curling lightly. “Okay,” he whispers.
A breath later a kiss lands against his shoulder. Hongjoong’s lips move over his skin, soft and warm and there was a time when this would have made Seonghwa laugh, when he would’ve twisted around to meet Hongjoong halfway, teasing and playful and completely there.
Sex with Hongjoong had always been like that; alive, full of energy and connection. Laughter muffled into pillows, whispered jokes, shared breaths and warmth and the kind of closeness that made everything else fade into the background.
Even on tired nights, there had been a spark. A sense of us.
Now—Now Seonghwa feels like he’s watching it happen from a distance as Hongjoong gently rolls him over to his stomach and climbs on top of him. His lips find his back again and follow a path down from his shoulder blades, making a constellation of points.
And Seonghwa’s body responds to the kisses, getting aroused from the constant attention he is getting. He tries to turn around and face his boyfriend but strong hands keep him just where he is, and a soft command is murmured against his skin to stay. He obeys the command and hugs his pillow close. His mind is somewhere miles away, but the feeling of something missing remains. He keeps waiting for that familiar feeling to bloom—that warmth that starts in his chest and spreads outward, that sense of being completely seen, completely held.
It doesn’t come, and in it’s place there’s a strange hollowness. He feels disconnected from his body, from Hongjoong, like there’s a layer between them that shouldn’t be there, keeping him just out of reach no matter how close their bodies are.
Seonghwa doesn’t realise Hongjoong has grabbed the lube until he hears the cap pop open, and a second later fingers are pressing against him. He presses his face into the pillow and breathes and waits, tension coiling at his spine.
If they had more time, if they weren’t both at the edge of exhaustion and it wasn’t the middle of the night, Hongjoong would open him up slowly, teasingly, pressing at Seonghwa’s every button until he snapped. Maybe he would even make Seonghwa come just on his fingers before even thinking of doing more.
Right now though, Hongjoong is desperate and tired, and he is doing his best to be efficient and quick while still trying to keep things pain free. Seonghwa has three fingers in him in record time, and it doesn’t necessarily feel like anything, which, he supposes, is worse than if it were painful. At least then he would feel something. He presses his forehead into the pillow and holds on and breathes and lets it happen, his body making its own accommodations, loosening and adjusting.
Hongjoong pulls out, his forehead coming to rest on Seonghwa’s back for a second before he straightens up. “Okay?” he asks quietly.
Seonghwa hums approvingly, even if he is the furthest thing from okay. His body craves this just as much as Hongjoong’s, it’s his mind that’s giving him a hard time. He hears shuffling behind him, and the next thing he feels is the blunt head of Hongjoong’s cock breaching him and filling him up. They both groan at the feeling, but at the same time Seonghwa’s thoughts start to scatter.
He usually loves to be filled, so he tries to focus on that, on the pleasant feeling of his walls sucking Hongjoong in deeper, but his mind keeps drifting, slipping through cracks he didn’t know were there. Hongjoong presses closer as he starts up a rhythm, murmuring something soft against his skin that should ground him and pull him back, but instead, Seonghwa feels used.
Which is not fair. It’s not true, not really—he knows Hongjoong would never intentionally make him feel that way. Hongjoong loves him. He knows that. He’s always known that. But right now it feels like they’re going through the motions of something that used to mean more and this is just another thing they’re squeezing into an already overfilled schedule as another attempt to hold onto something that’s slipping through their fingers.
It’s not fair because sex with Hongjoong has never felt like this before. He is used to the feeling of being embraced and made love to, of being pulled apart and put back together piece by piece carefully. He’s used to the feeling of being empowered, loved and taken care of.
Now he feels like he’s falling. His fingers clutch at the sheets, knuckles turning white. He presses his face deeper into the pillow, trying to ground himself, trying to push away the rising panic curling in his chest. Why does it feel like this? And why can’t he feel Hongjoong like he used to? They used to be so in sync, what happened to that?
Hongjoong is right there. He’s right there. And Seonghwa has never felt further away. His breathing falters and something inside him cracks, the weight in his chest growing heavier and pressing down, making it harder to breathe, harder to think.
He doesn’t want this. Or at least, not like this, not when it feels so empty. A sharp, unexpected sob catches in his throat before he can stop it. For a second, everything seems to halt—the movement, the rhythm, the fragile illusion they were trying to maintain and then another sob follows, louder this time, breaking free despite his attempts to swallow it down.
Tears spill into the pillow, hot and relentless as his chest heaves, breaths coming uneven and shaky as the weight of it all finally crashes over him. Now he doesn’t know how to reach across the distance that’s grown between them. He doesn’t know how to make it feel the same again, and that’s just devastating.
Hongjoong doesn’t notice it at first. Seonghwa has always been soft like this, too full of feeling, too easily overwhelmed. There have been other nights, other moments where emotion had spilled over in the middle of intimacy, where tears came quietly and Hongjoong only held him closer, pressing soft reassurances into his skin without stopping.
Those times had never felt wrong. If anything, they had felt like an extension of everything Seonghwa let himself be in Hongjoong’s hands; open, raw and safe.
But when the sobs keep coming Hongjoong shifts slightly, one hand tightening around Seonghwa’s waist, the other coming up to cradle the back of his neck, “Hey…” he murmurs, voice low and gentle, breath warm against his ear. “You okay?”
Seonghwa nods, even though it’s barely visible. He can’t speak. The words are there, somewhere, crowding his throat, pressing against his chest, but they won’t come out. He doesn’t even know how to shape them, how to explain something he barely understands himself.
What started as something quiet and contained begins to fracture, each breath catching harder than the last. His chest tightens painfully, like something is squeezing around his ribs, and suddenly it’s not just sadness anymore. A creeping, suffocating dread spreads through him without warning. His fingers curl tighter into the sheets, his whole body tensing as another broken sound tears out of him, louder this time and less controlled.
Hongjoong stills immediately. “Hwa—?”
There’s a shift behind him, a pause that feels too big, too sudden. What had once felt distant now disappears entirely, replaced by stillness and emptiness that Seonghwa just can’t take. It feels like his lungs won’t expand properly, every inhale gets caught halfway, tangled in the mess building inside him.
“Hwa, hey—hey, talk to me,” Hongjoong says, urgency creeping into his voice now. One of his hands slide up to Seonghwa’s shoulder, the other pressing more firmly at his side. “Did I hurt you?”
Seonghwa shakes his head quickly, almost frantically. His entire body begins to shake, small at first, then harder, uncontrollable tremors that run through him no matter how tightly he tries to hold himself together. The dread sinks deeper, settling heavy in his chest, making everything feel wrong—too much, too close, too far, all at once.
“Hwa—” Hongjoong’s voice cracks slightly now, panic bleeding through. “Hey, I’m stopping, okay? I’m stopping.”
Hongjoong pulls out of him, the warmth of him disappearing so quickly it makes Seonghwa’s chest ache even more. The loss of contact feels like being dropped into cold water, sharp and disorienting. “No—” his voice comes out broken, barely more than a whisper.
Hongjoong guides him onto is back and the world tilts as Seonghwa blinks through tears, vision blurred as he’s suddenly face-to-face with him.
Hongjoong looks terrified, his eyes are wide, searching, darting over Seonghwa’s face like he’s trying to find something—an injury, a sign, anything that explains what’s happening. His hands hover uncertainly, like he doesn’t know where to touch, where to help. “Did I hurt you?” he asks again, voice tight. “Hwa, you have to tell me if I did something wrong—”
“I’m sorry.” The words spill out before Seonghwa can stop them. They taste and feel wrong, but it’s all he can manage. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” His voice shakes, breaking apart with each syllable. “I didn’t mean—I don’t know—”
“Baby, why are you apologizing?” Hongjoong cuts in, confusion mixing with the panic. “You didn’t do anything, just—talk to me, please.”
Seonghwa shakes his head again, more tears spilling over. He wants to. He wants to explain it, to make Hongjoong understand that this isn’t his fault, that this isn’t something he did. But how do you explain something that doesn’t have a clear shape? How do you say I feel like I’m losing you even when you’re right here without breaking something irreparably?
His chest tightens again. Hongjoong has pulled back more than he realizes, instinctively giving him space, hands resting lightly on Seonghwa’s arms instead of holding him the way he usually would. That space and too much distance makes everything worse. Seonghwa’s breath stutters as he reaches for him, fingers curling weakly into the fabric of Hongjoong’s shirt he didn’t bother removing. “Don’t—” he chokes out. “Don’t pull away.”
Hongjoong freezes. “I’m not—” he starts, but his voice falters when he looks at Seonghwa properly, at his tear-streaked face, the desperation written so plainly there. “Hwa…”
“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa repeats, softer now, more fragile. “It just… it doesn’t feel right.”
Hongjoong’s expression shifts, confusion giving way to something more cautious, more careful. “What doesn’t?”
Seonghwa swallows hard, his grip tightening slightly. “Like that,” he whispers. “The position. It feels…” He squeezes his eyes shut briefly, trying to find the right way to say it without hurting him. “It feels too far. Like you’re not really… there.” Hongjoong goes very still and Seonghwa forces himself to keep going, even though his voice trembles. “I know you are,” he adds quickly. “I know you are, I just—I can’t feel you. Not like before. It’s awful.”
There’s a long, heavy silence.
Seonghwa’s heart pounds in his chest, dread creeping back in as he waits for a reaction—any reaction. “I’m sorry,” he says again, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “I don’t know why it’s like this, I just—”
“Hwa.” Hongjoong’s voice is softer now. The panic is still there, lingering at the edges, but it’s no longer overwhelming. “You don’t have to apologize for that,”
Seonghwa’s lip trembles. “I just—” He hesitates, then forces the words out. “I want to see you. I want to see your face,” he clarifies, voice barely above a whisper. “I want to know you’re here. I want to feel like… like it’s us.” The vulnerability in his voice hangs heavy between them.
For a moment, Hongjoong doesn’t move, then slowly he shifts closer again. He seems to be thinking over their options, and arrives at the one Seonghwa needs from him right now. To keep going, just differently, because he is desperate to get even a hint of that closeness that used to belong to them. “Okay,” he says gently. “Okay, we can do that.”
His hand comes up, brushing lightly against Seonghwa’s cheek, wiping away tears with a tenderness that makes his chest ache all over again, softer this time and less suffocating. “You’re okay,” Hongjoong murmurs, thumb tracing slow, calming patterns against his skin. “We’ll slow down, yeah? We don’t have to rush anything.”
Seonghwa nods shakily.
Hongjoong leans in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. “Breathe for me,” he adds quietly.
Seonghwa tries. It’s still uneven, still shaky, but with Hongjoong this close—looking at him, holding him—it’s easier than before. Bit by bit, the tightness in his chest starts to loosen. The dread doesn’t disappear completely, but it dulls, retreating enough for him to think again, to feel something other than overwhelming panic.
Hongjoong waits for him, letting his breathing even out and the trembling in his body ease. His gaze is soft, searching, filled with a kind of careful love, and Seonghwa finally feels seen. “There you are,” he whispers. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
Seonghwa’s breath catches. He nods weakly, fingers tightening where they rest against Hongjoong’s arm. “Please,” he manages.
Hongjoong gives him a small, reassuring smile and slowly pushes back into Seonghwa’s body, all of his earlier urgency gone, no rushed need to get somewhere. Seonghwa’s breath stutters at the feeling, but this time it doesn’t spiral.
Because Hongjoong is right there, right in front of him and looking at him, and he doesn’t look away, not for a second. His gaze is open, searching, filled with something achingly soft. He holds Seonghwa close, letting him adjust. His hands come up almost instinctively, gripping lightly at Hongjoong’s shoulders.
It feels different already. Not empty or distant, but full and warm.
Hongjoong leans down and his lips brush against Seonghwa’s cheek first before trailing lower, pressing gentle kisses along his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Seonghwa tilts his head slightly, giving him more space, his fingers loosening where they grip him. His body, tense just moments ago, begins to soften under the attention, under the quiet patience Hongjoong is giving him.
“Missed you,” Hongjoong murmurs against his skin.
Seonghwa swallows, his throat tight, his eyes stinging again. This feels… gentler. Hongjoong shifts just enough to look at him again, lifting himself slightly so their eyes meet. His hand comes up to cup Seonghwa’s face, thumb brushing lightly beneath his eye, catching the remnants of tears still clinging there.
Then he leans in and kisses him. It’s slow and deep and grounding, stealing the air from Seonghwa’s lungs in the best way, that replaces the lingering dread with something warmer, something steadier. He melts into it almost immediately, his grip on Hongjoong shifting and no longer just holding on, but pulling him closer, meeting him halfway.
When they part, Hongjoong doesn’t move far, just down, taking one of Seonghwa’s nipples into his mouth, his cock still resting inside him, unmoving. His back lifts from the mattress as Hongjoong lightly rolls the bud around with his teeth then soothes it with his tongue. His chest has always been sensitive, and on nights when they had time, Hongjoong would take great pride in playing with them until Seonghwa was reduced to a squirming, pleading mess.
And it feels like Hongjoong has decided that they do have time after all.
He switches to the other one, his hands splaying out on Seonghwa’s torso, gently pushing him back against the bed. A breathy moan leaves his mouth that vaguely sounds like Hongjoong’s name.
When he finally starts to move, it’s shallow, small little rolls of his hips, grinding into Seonghwa, who gasps softly, his head tipping back slightly, eyes fluttering before finding Hongjoong’s again almost immediately, his hands reaching out and pulling him upupup, until their mouths can connect again.
He doesn’t want to lose their connection again, and Hongjoong seems to understand. “You feel so good,” he murmurs, voice low and warm, the words slipping easily between breaths. “You always do.” Seonghwa’s fingers tighten slightly against him, a soft, broken sound leaving him. “You’re so pretty like this,” Hongjoong continues, quieter now, more intimate. His thumb brushes lightly over Seonghwa’s cheek again, lingering there. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” he manages, his voice soft, still a little shaky but no longer breaking.
Hongjoong’s expression softens further at that, something tender flickering across his face. “You’re loved,” he murmurs after a moment, the words almost lost between them. “You know that, right?” He follows this with purposefully grinding into Seonghwa’s prostate, making his head strain back with a loud whine.
He nods, eyes shining slightly as he looks up at his boyfriend. “I do,” he whispers.
He knows he is loved, and even if the feeling of it disappeared for a second, now it returns even more intense than before, overflowing in his chest.
Hongjoong leans down again, pressing another kiss to his lips, making Seonghwa sigh into it as he rolls his hips again. His body responds to Hongjoong’s, meeting his small thrusts halfway and grinding back on him, following the slow rhythm and gentle pace. Hongjoong’s voice continues softly, words slipping out between breaths, between small pauses where he leans in to kiss him again, to press his forehead against Seonghwa’s, to remind him—again and again—that he’s here.
The rhythm between them builds slowly as pleasure rises and they get more desperate for release. Seonghwa feels lighter, chasing his own high, being taken apart piece by piece by Hongjoong. They kiss again and don’t pull away much after that. Every time there’s space, even just a breath between them, one of them closes it again. Another kiss. Another brush of lips. Another quiet reminder that they’re here.
Seonghwa’s hands slide from Hongjoong’s shoulders to his back, fingers pressing in slightly, holding him closer. “Joongie…” he breathes, the nickname slipping out instinctively.
Hongjoong’s lips curve faintly at that. “Yeah?” he murmurs against his mouth.
Seonghwa doesn’t answer right away, just kisses him again.
And again.
And again.
At some point, it becomes hard to tell where one kiss ends and the next begins. Their lips barely part, breaths mingling, shared in short, uneven bursts between soft laughter and quiet sounds that don’t quite form words.
Hongjoong shifts slightly, adjusting the angle, making Seonghwa cry out in pleasure, his hips stuttering and twitching away. His body responds to Hongjoong beautifully, instead of lagging behind or feeling disconnected.
Hongjoong’s gaze flickers, something playful slipping into it despite the lingering exhaustion lining his features. His teeth nip at Seonghwa’s lips, biting down and pulling. Seonghwa lets out a startled sound that quickly dissolves into a laugh, his head tipping back slightly against the pillow. This feels familiar, playful and light, and fun. He kisses Seonghwa again and again, sometimes softer, sometimes with that same teasing edge. Seonghwa responds in kind, his hands moving more freely now, tracing over Hongjoong’s back, his shoulders, his arms, following a familiar path that no longer feels distant or foreign.
Hongjoong leans down again, pressing another kiss to his lips, then another to his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs again, voice quieter now. “Beautiful, my baby.”
Seonghwa’s breath stutters, he feels wanted, appreciated, adored. It shows in the way Hongjoong looks at him, in the way he keeps coming back to his lips, in the way he whispers small things that don’t seem like much but mean everything. Hongjoong always makes sure he feels the most loved and cherished when he is vulnerable like this, empowered and taken care of.
He exhales and feels himself go softer, which he hadn't thought was possible given how soft he already was, his body releasing something he hadn't known he was holding. Hongjoong's hand moves over him, unhurried, finding his sides, his waist, his thighs, and every place they land is warm in the aftermath.
He feels worshipped. That's the word that arrives and stays because it's the accurate one, even though it's a large word. He feels attended to and considered precious, handled with care. Hongjoong never once stops moving, drawing all kinds of sounds out of him while praises fall from his own lips, through his strained voice. He tells Seonghwa he is being good, that he feels incredible, that his body is beautiful, and that Hongjoong is the lucky one. Like Seonghwa didn’t hit the jackpot with his boyfriend but the other way around.
Soon after, pleasure overtakes his mind for him to think about these things, he is a mix of feeling too much, pleasure and moremoremore. His thoughts quiet down, the earlier spiral replaced by something softer, slower, sinking into warm water, drifting somewhere safe where nothing can reach him.
“Joongie…” he murmurs, voice softer now, almost hazy.
Hongjoong looks at him immediately, attentive as ever. “Yeah?”
Seonghwa swallows, his grip tightening slightly. “Don’t stop,” he whispers.
“I won’t,” he promises.
Seonghwa’s head tips back slightly as he keeps the same steady rhythm, breathing unevenly now. He feels full, overwhelmed in a way that feels good. Hongjoong’s hand closes around his cock and he gasps, his back arching. The pressure feels so nice, it makes his head spin, the added pleasure almost bordering on too much.
Hongjoong thumbs his slit, sending him to the edge of his release, the friction inside him building and pleasure coiling low in his stomach until his whole body is on fire, shaking with the need of release. It pulls his head deeper into that warm, honey-sweet haze where everything feels distant except the closeness between them.
“Please, I’m close.” he whines into the air between them.
Hongjoong’s pace picks up then, making him choke on his saliva and punching the breath out of him. Teeth scrape over one of his nipples while a hand plays with the other one, making him arch his back and push his cock deeper into Hongjoong’s grasp, who keeps it there, thumbing the underside of it, sending Seonghwa over the edge with a cry.
“That’s it baby, come for me. So pretty when you do.”
He paints Hongjoong’s hand white, coming all over his stomach. The latter lifts his hand, cleaning it off with his tongue, lapping up every drop of the salty fluid. Seonghwa whines at the sight, his body twitching from the aftershocks, but it’s so good and he wants more, and his mind feels like cotton-candy.
But Hongjoong always knows what he wants, fucking him through it even as his body twitches with the aftershocks. His head tips back, his breath heaving and chest rising and falling rapidly as the waves roll through him. It’s too much and not enough all at once, his body still buzzing, still wanting, even as it tries to come down from the high.
A soft, needy sound slips from him before he can stop it. Hongjoong coos at him, and his brows knit together as he follows after Seonghwa, coming deep inside him and painting his walls. He gasps softly at the feeling, his body jolting slightly. Hongjoong only stops grinding and fucking into him when both of them are trembling messes from oversensitivity. It’s only then that they still, and Seonghwa breathes and that’s the whole of it for a moment—just breathing, his face turned into the pillow, his body running through the last of whatever it's been through and settling back into itself incrementally. He is warm everywhere, heavy and satisfied, thoroughly, comprehensively spent.
Hongjoong is still on him, and makes no immediate moves to change this, which Seonghwa has no objections to. The weight over him is grounding. He’s always liked the comfort of being covered and having something solid and warm and real pressed against him while his body remembers how to be ordinary.
Lips find his shoulder. Then his neck, the curve of it, and it’s like Hongjoong really can’t get enough of him. Then the space between his clavicles, warm and soft and staying a moment before moving to the next place. Hongjoong's hands move over him as he does this, tracing the lines of him, settling him, bringing him back.
"So good." The words arrive pressed into his shoulder. "Always so good."
Their breathing slowly evens out, though it still comes in soft, uneven bursts at first, their chests rising and falling together like they’re trying to find the same rhythm again. Hongjoong stays hovering over Seonghwa, their foreheads pressed together, their lips brushing every few seconds as if neither of them is quite ready to let go of that contact yet.
Seonghwa’s eyes drift half-closed, his body heavy in that pleasant, spent way. He hums quietly against Hongjoong’s mouth, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along his arms, his shoulders, wherever he can reach without really thinking about it.
“You okay?” Hongjoong murmurs eventually.
Seonghwa nods, eyes still mostly closed. “Mm,” he answers softly. “Yeah.”
Hongjoong studies him for a second longer, like he’s searching for any lingering tension, any sign that something is still off. When he doesn’t find it, his shoulders relax just a little. He leans down again, pressing a lingering kiss to Seonghwa’s lips that’s slower than before, softer. They stay like that for a few more breaths, just kissing and existing together.
Eventually, Hongjoong shifts, one hand stretching toward the headboard without fully breaking contact. Seonghwa barely registers it at first, too wrapped up in the warmth still settling through him. There’s a faint crinkle and Hongjoong pulling back just slightly. He blinks his eyes open, watching as his boyfriend retrieves the wet wipes from where they’re tucked behind them. He lets himself be guided, shifting slightly when Hongjoong needs him to, his body pliant and relaxed as it’s being wiped down.
Hongjoong’s free hand occasionally brushes over his skin in absent, grounding touches and Seonghwa exhales softly, eyes drifting closed again, there’s something soothing about this. He floats down gently, drifting back down into his body. By the time Hongjoong finishes, he feels more present. Hongjoong tosses the wipe aside and reaches for the blanket, pulling it up over Seonghwa with practiced ease, tucking it around him. He lets out a soft sigh, sinking into the mattress as the warmth settles around him.
For a moment, he thinks that’s it. That they’ll just stay like this—curled up, drifting into sleep like they have so many times before. But Seonghwa blinks and then Hongjoong is climbing over him, straddling his hips and taking his hands into his own, their fingers lacing together. He lifts them slightly, holding them between them. Seonghwa looks up at him, blinking slowly, his mind still catching up to the shift. Hongjoong’s expression is serious, a small frown on his face that makes a small flicker of anxiety curl low in Seonghwa’s chest before he can stop it.
He brings Seonghwa’s hands up, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles, then another, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. “Are you back with me?”
Seonghwa swallows, his gaze softening slightly as he watches him. “I am,” he answers, voice still a little rough. “I’m here.”
Hongjoong studies him for a second longer, searching. “Yeah?” he presses.
He nods, a little more firmly this time. “Yeah.”
There’s a pause, then Hongjoong exhales, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He doesn’t let go of Seonghwa’s hands, if anything, his grip tightens slightly. “We need to talk about what just happened,” he says quietly.
Seonghwa’s chest tightens again, and he looks away briefly, his gaze flickering toward the ceiling. “I know,” he murmurs. His voice comes out quieter than he intends, a little rough, like something fragile still sits in his throat.
Hongjoong tilts his head, studying him carefully, his eyes searching in that way that always makes Seonghwa feel like he’s being seen all the way through and past whatever he tries to hide, past whatever he hasn’t figured out how to say yet.
Hongjoong tilts his head slightly, trying to catch his eyes again. “Hwa.” he says softer this time, almost coaxing. “Talk to me, don’t try to brush it off.”
“I’m not,” Seonghwa replies quickly, maybe a little too quickly. He exhales slowly, his gaze flickering away—to the wall, the dim light, anywhere but Hongjoong’s eyes for just a second—before returning. “I just don’t want you to think—” he starts, then stops.
The words tangle. Hongjoong leans forward, his face coming closer, desperate to understand. “Think what?” he asks.
“That it was your fault.”
There’s a brief pause before Hongjoong’s expression shifts, something conflicted crossing his face. “I do think it was my fault,” he says, brows pulling together. “You were crying, Seong—”
“It wasn’t because of you,” he cuts in, his grip tightening instinctively. “Not really. It was just—wrong. It felt wrong.” There. Out.
“Wrong how?”
Seonghwa hesitates. His fingers shift slightly in Hongjoong’s grip, tightening, then loosening, he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. “I don’t know how to say it without it sounding worse than it is,” he frowns.
“Just say it,” Hongjoong replies softly, urging him on.
Seonghwa looks at him, at the tiredness in his eyes, the worry, the way he hasn’t pulled away even once. “I felt used.”
The words leave his mouth before he can soften them and Hongjoong freezes on top of him, his entire body going still, his grip tightening sharply around Seonghwa’s hands, eyes widening with shock. “Hwa—” he starts, but the word catches halfway.
Seonghwa regrets saying it and wishes he could take it back immediately. “I know,” he rushes, his voice stumbling. “I know how that sounds, I didn’t mean it like—”
“You felt used?” Hongjoong repeats.
He winces slightly. “Just for a second,” he says quickly. “Not like—you weren’t doing anything wrong, it just felt that way in my head.”
Hongjoong shakes his head, like he’s trying to process it, trying to reconcile that word with everything he knows about them. “I would never—”
“I know,” Seonghwa interrupts again, more firmly this time. “That’s why it felt so wrong.” he takes a deep breath. “It wasn’t about what you were doing,” he explains more slowly. “It was about how it felt to me in that moment.”
Hongjoong nods faintly, though his jaw is still tight. “Okay,” he says. “Explain it to me.”
Seonghwa hesitates. The words don’t feel as stuck as they did before—but they’re still… difficult. “I just…” He exhales slowly. “It felt different. Empty. I couldn’t reach you, even though you were there. I know it’s not… intentional,” he adds that quickly, glancing up at him. “I know we’re both busy and tired and it’s just how things are right now. I know that.”
“But it still affects you,” Hongjoong finishes softly.
He presses his lips together, then nods. “Yeah.” A small silence settles and he exhales again, slower this time. “It’s like…” He struggles for the right words, his brows pulling together slightly. “We still talk. We still spend time together. But it doesn’t always feel like us anymore. Not the way it used to.”
Hongjoong’s expression flickers into something painful and his grip on his hands tightens slightly at that. “I didn’t realize,” he admits quietly.
“I didn’t either,” Seonghwa says, a faint, self-conscious smile tugging at his lips. “Not until it hit me all at once.”
“Is that what freaked you out?”
“Kind of.” he admits. “The position…like that—” he stops, feeling flustered for a second, his grip tightening slightly in Hongjoong’s hands. “I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t see your face, couldn’t see your eyes…I couldn’t tell what you were feeling, and it made everything feel further away. Like there was this…gap between us that I couldn’t cross.” He pauses, his throat tightening. “It felt like I was just—there,” he admits. “Like my body was there with you, but I wasn’t. Like I was giving myself to you but not actually connected to you.” The words come out clumsy, imperfect, but real. “That’s not us. With you it’s never supposed to be like that.” he huffs, a small smile tugging at his face.
“What does it usually feel like?” Hongjoong asks, genuinely curious.
“Like I’m floating,” he says after a moment. “And it’s just you and me. Nothing else matters.” His fingers loosen slightly in Hongjoong’s hands. “Like I’m safe,” he adds. “And warm. And… I don’t know. Fuzzy, I guess.” A faint, almost embarrassed smile flickers across his lips. “You make me feel beautiful,” he says. Hongjoong’s expression softens deeply at that, something in his shoulders finally easing. “And loved and cared for. It’s always felt like that before.”
“So what was different tonight?” Hongjoong asks, sounding small. He squirms nervously in Seonghwa’s lap but doesn’t drop the eye contact.
“I guess it’s just…With the distance between us that’s been there recently, not being able to see you made it feel impersonal.” he confesses. “It made me feel more disconnected than I already did and all the wrong kinds of emotions that I’ve never had to associate with sex before.”
Hongjoong’s thumb brushes lightly over the back of his hand. “And when we changed?” he asks gently.
Seonghwa’s shoulders relax slightly, just at the memory of it. “I could see you,” he says simply. “I could see your face, your eyes… the way you were looking at me, it changed everything.” Hongjoong watches him closely. “And it felt real again,” he continues, voice quieter now. “Like it was actually us. Not just… something we were doing.” Hongjoong’s chest rises with a slow inhale. “And I needed that,” he adds, a little more firmly. “To feel like you were with me. Not just physically.”
A small silence follows before Hongjoong briefly nods. “Okay,” he says.
Seonghwa blinks slightly. “Okay?” he repeats.
“Okay,” Hongjoong says again, softer this time. “That makes sense.”
Seonghwa studies him, a hint of uncertainty still lingering. “You’re not… upset?”
Hongjoong’s expression shifts immediately. “No,” he says, almost surprised by the question. “Why would I be upset?”
Seonghwa shrugs faintly. “I don’t know. It’s kind of… a lot.”
Hongjoong huffs out a quiet breath, shaking his head. “Hwa,” he says gently, lifting their joined hands slightly. “You just told me you’ve been feeling disconnected from me. Why would that make me upset at you?”
Seonghwa’s lips part slightly, then close again. “I don’t know,” he admits softly.
Hongjoong’s gaze softens further. “I’m glad you told me,” he says.
Seonghwa exhales, some of the tension leaving him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Hongjoong nods. “Because now I actually know. And I can do something about it. But you can’t hide that from me ever again, okay?” he closes his eyes for a second, sighing. His face softens—but it also breaks, just a little. Hongjoong’s grip on his hands tightens, almost unconsciously “You can’t just—” he exhales, shaking his head slightly, his voice lowering but not losing that intensity. “You can’t hide that from me. Not when what we’re doing feels wrong, or off, or—”
Seonghwa blinks, caught off guard. “I wasn’t trying to—”
“You were crying, Hwa,” Hongjoong says, quieter now, but his voice wavers just enough to give him away. “Sobbing. During sex, I though—I—”
Seonghwa swallows. “I know.”
“And you didn’t say anything,” Hongjoong continues, his eyes searching his face now, something almost desperate. “You just… stayed quiet.”
Seonghwa’s gaze drops. The guilt settles quickly, heavy and familiar. “I didn’t know how to,” he admits softly.
Hongjoong exhales sharply through his nose, his free hand coming up briefly to rub at his face before returning to hold Seonghwa again. “You have to try,” he says. “You can’t just let it get that bad and not tell me what’s going on.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide it,” he says quickly, looking back up at him. “I swear, I wasn’t. I just—” He falters. “I just couldn’t,” he finishes quietly. He frowns slightly, frustration flickering across his face. “The words just…wouldn’t come out,” he says. “I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know how to explain it. And the more I thought about it, the worse it felt, and then—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head faintly. “It just spiraled.”
Hongjoong watches him carefully, his expression softening again, though the concern doesn’t fade. “You can say anything to me,” he says quietly.
“I know,” Seonghwa replies immediately.
“Then why didn’t you?”
Seonghwa hesitates. Because that’s the question, isn’t it? “I think…” he starts slowly, his voice quieter now. “I think I was scared that if I said it out loud, it would mean something worse than it actually is.”
Hongjoong’s brows knit together. “Like what?”
He shrugs faintly, his grip on Hongjoong’s hands tightening just a little. “Like maybe we’re… drifting more than I want to admit,” he says quietly, barely audible.
The words hang there and Hongjoong’s jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. “We’re not,” he says firmly.
Seonghwa looks at him, something uncertain flickering in his eyes. “It feels like it sometimes.”
Hongjoong exhales, slower this time. “Yeah,” he admits quietly. “It does.”
That surprises Seonghwa. “You feel it too?” he asks.
Hongjoong gives a small, tired huff. “I’d have to be blind not to,” he says. “We barely see each other properly these days. And when we do, we’re exhausted. I hate it,” he adds under his breath.
“Me too.”
A small silence follows heavy with shared understanding. “So what do we do?” Seonghwa asks quietly. Hongjoong doesn’t answer immediately. He looks down for a second, then back at him, his expression thoughtful. “We’ve tried talking,” Seonghwa continues, almost to himself. “We’ve tried making time, even if it’s small. But it still feels like this sometimes.”
Hongjoong nods slowly. “I know.”
“And I don’t know what else to do,” he admits, his voice starting to waver again despite himself. “Because it’s not like we can just… stop everything. Our schedules aren’t going to suddenly disappear.”
Hongjoong’s grip tightens slightly as he notices the shift. “Hwa—”
“What if it keeps feeling like this?” Seonghwa presses, the edge of panic creeping back in. “What if we can’t fix it because it’s not something we can actually change?”
“Hey.” Hongjoong lifts their joined hands slightly, grounding him. “Look at me.” Seonghwa does, though his breathing has started to pick up again, uneven at the edges. “We’re not at the ‘we can’t fix it’ stage,” he says firmly.
“But what if—”
“No,” Hongjoong cuts in, not harshly but decisively. “Don’t jump there.” Seonghwa’s lips press together. “I’m serious,” Hongjoong continues, softer now. “We’re figuring it out right now. We can make it work because we want to.”
“I just don’t want to lose this,” he exhales shakily.
Hongjoong’s expression shifts immediately. “You’re not going to,” he says.
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise I’m not going to let it happen without fighting for it,” Hongjoong replies. That… lands and Seonghwa blinks, some of the tension easing out of him. Hongjoong leans down slightly, still holding his hands. “I love you, okay? That’s what matters. We can get through this.”
Seonghwa blinks up at him, the words soothing his lingering anxiety and the doubts that had been clawing at him earlier. It sounds so simple, but it’s true. They always chose to stay beside each other when things got hard, to not go to bed angry and to believe in their relationship, that they can make it.
Seonghwa believes in them.
He shifts slightly, lifting their joined hands just enough to press a soft kiss against Hongjoong’s knuckles. “I love you too.”
Hongjoong smiles down at him. He leans down and kisses the tip of Seonghwa’s nose, then his forehead. “Once this is all over I promise to steal you away for a weekend where we can recharge.” he murmurs, his face inches away from Seonghwa’s, looking at him.
“Can we even do that?” he asks through a bright smile, because the idea of that is one that makes him straight up giddy.
Hongjoong gives a small, determined smile. “We’ll make it happen.” He seals his promise with a kiss to Seonghwa’s lips.
A small silence settles again—but this one feels lighter. Hopeful, even. Hongjoong squeezes his hands gently before bringing them up to his lips and kissing them one last time. Then he shifts, releasing them only to slide down properly beside him, pulling Seonghwa into his arms without hesitation, who melts into it instantly.
Hongjoong tucks his face into the side of his.neck, his arms wrapped securely around him. “Come here,” he murmurs. Seonghwa hums softly, curling closer, one leg slipping between Hongjoong’s, his arms settling comfortably around him. They settle fully into each other, breaths syncing once more, bodies relaxed and tangled under the covers, the distance between them almost non-existent.
。。。
When Seonghwa wakes up warmth is everywhere, wrapped around him, pressed into him, seeping into his skin and it makes him curl further into it, nuzzling into Hongjoong. There is a soft knock at his door, and he thinks that must be what woke him. His brows twitch faintly, but he doesn’t make an attempt to move.
“Hyungs… can I come in?” San’s voice filters through the door, muffled but clear enough.
Seonghwa considers ignoring him, but that would be cruel so he wills himself to get up and see what his dormmate wants. However, before he can make a move to get up, Hongjoong is shifting and sitting up beside him. Cool air brushes briefly against Seonghwa’s skin where the blanket shifts but almost immediately it's pulled back into place. Hongjoong pats down the blanket around him, making sure every part of his body is covered.
“Come in, Sannie,” He then calls, his voice low—quiet, but just loud enough to carry through the door.
There’s a pause then the soft creak of its opening. Light spills into the room from the hallway, even through his closed eyes Seonghwa can sense it because it’s brighter than the dim, comfortable darkness he’d been resting in. He shifts slightly under the blanket, instinctively burrowing deeper, not ready to face it yet.
“Manager hyung just called,” San says, his voice clearer now. “The outside shoot we were supposed to have this morning has been cancelled because of the weather.”
Seonghwa’s mind catches on that slowly. Cancelled.
“We only have to head into the company this afternoon for dance practice,” San continues. “We’ve got the morning off.”
A small smile blooms at Seonghwa’s lips, even as his eyes remain closed. A slow morning with his lover in bed? Count him in.
“Really?” Hongjoong asks, and Seonghwa can hear the faint lift in his voice too—surprise, quickly followed by something lighter.
“Yeah,” San replies. “Weather’s bad enough that they don’t want to risk it.” There’s a soft shuffle, like San shifting his weight near the doorway. “You guys can sleep more,” he adds. “Or… whatever.”
Seonghwa can almost hear the grin in his voice.
Hongjoong huffs quietly. “Thanks for the update,” he says.
“No problem,” San replies. “I’ll tell the others.”
Another small pause, then the door clicks shut again, the light dimming as it closes, returning the room to its softer, quieter state.
Seonghwa stays exactly where he is, cocooned in warmth, his smile still faintly present as the relief lingers in his chest. With the door closed, Hongjoong lays down again, his fingers brushing lightly against his face, sweeping a stray strand of hair out of his face.
“I know you’re awake,” he murmurs.
Seonghwa hums in response, still not opening his eyes. He stretches slightly under the blanket, his body still heavy with sleep but loose, relaxed. His arms slide around Hongjoong’s neck, pulling him down and tucking his face against him, still half-buried in warmth and comfort.
Hongjoong lets out a soft huff—something between amusement and fondness. “Yeah?” he murmurs.
Seonghwa just hums again.
Hongjoong begins pressing kisses to his face, scattered across without much pattern. He doesn’t seem to care where they land, forehead, nose, jaw, just that he’s close enough to keep going.
Seonghwa squirms slightly under the attention, a quiet laugh slipping out of him despite himself. “Joong—” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep. Hongjoong leans in more, pressing another kiss just under his ear this time, making him laugh properly, his arms tightening slightly around Hongjoong as he tries to hide his face against him. “Stop,” he protests weakly.
“Why?” Hongjoong asks, not sounding particularly interested in stopping at all.
Seonghwa peeks up at him now, eyes still heavy-lidded but clearer. “Because I just woke up,” he says and sniffles. “And I need a shower.” he adds as an afterthought.
Hongjoong surges forward, burying his face in Seonghwa’s neck, taking a deep breath, sniffing him. It’s sudden enough to catch Seonghwa off guard and try to push him off, a startled laugh bubbling out of him as his head tips back slightly against the pillows. “Mm,” Hongjoong hums against his skin, voice muffled but pleased. “We both do. Let me join you?”