Work Text:
The sunlight of the golden hour dripped between the crevices of the blinds as Yeosang attempted to shake off the sleep that was bound to overcome him. If the warmth of the plush duvet wasn’t enough of a convincing reason to lounge around in bed for the rest of the evening, then the sight of Wooyoung sprawled across the sheets on his stomach, arms wrapped around his pillow, was. There was no sight better than that of his significant other sleeping soundly; running amuck in whatever dreamscape that made the muscles in his arms flicker ever so often. He had come to know the difference between the sweet dreams and those that were not. There was no forgetting the ear splitting screams that used to send him running down the hallway in the middle of the night into San and Wooyoung’s room. Ever so slowly, the rare nights that Yeosang would spend laying on the floor of their bedroom turned into a nightly occurrence, until Wooyoung proposed switching rooms with Seonghwa. They’ve been together like this ever since.
He sighed at the thought of having to get up and go to the recording to the studio. It had only been a day since they touched down in Incheon and returned to Seoul from their time in the States; they hardly had enough time to properly sleep and unpack—and by unpack, he meant unzipping his suitcase and placing his travel bag on the bathroom counter. His body was exhausted, he could hardly concern himself with having to actually sing . Luckily for Wooyoung, it was his day off. So, he would get to escape the dreadful walk to the studio and sleep for a few hours longer.
He knew that he couldn’t laze around any longer as he recognized the familiar rhythm of Seonghwa’s footsteps fading down the hallway; he pushed back the sheets and grunted softly as he quietly stood from the bed. He pulled the sheets across Wooyoung’s shoulders just enough for him to be comfortable before grabbing a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom.
He had greatly underestimated how tired he actually was until he stepped into the blinding light that paved the hallway. His eyes were practically closed the entire walk to the bathroom.
Seonghwa was brushing his teeth at the double vanity counter, he raised his eyebrows as a means of greeting.
“Can we just pretend that we died and not go to work?” Yeosang groaned.
The elder actually choked on his toothbrush before spitting out the foaming toothpaste, “Did you not sleep?”
“Not really,” he mumbled as she shoved his own toothbrush into his mouth, “You know better than anyone that my sleeping patterns have a mind of their own, especially after we’ve had a long flight.”
Seonghwa made a face of silent agreement before rinsing his mouth and then moving to work on his hair.
“Hopefully, we won’t have much work to do today,” he offered.
Yeosang rolled his eyes, “That’s easy for you to say.”
Seonghwa reached into his cabinet and grabbed a tall canister of hairspray, “I’m just recording today...Why? Do you have something else on your schedule?”
Yeosang flipped on the water and rinsed his mouth before answering, “I have to work with one of the choreographers today to start learning the parts of the choreo I missed prior to leaving for the States. So, it looks like I’ll be getting home late today.”
His elder brother offered a look of half-concern before going back to working on his hair.
After changing into the clothes he had pulled from his suitcase, and threw his used ones in the laundry basket, Yeosang was surprised to walk into the half-clean kitchen to see Wooyoung standing at the stove.
“Woo…”
The blonde turned with a slight flinch in surprise to reveal a dazzling, sheepish smile. He stepped away from the stove and closed the space between them, taking him in his arms without any sense of hesitation. Yeosang mirrored the sentiment by pressing his lips firmly against his cheek.
“I thought I had missed the opportunity to make you some hot chocolate before going to work,” Wooyoung mumbled against his shoulder.
Yeosang half-sighed, “You should be sleeping, not worrying about me.”
“You’re my boyfriend,” Wooyoung whined, “It’s my job to worry about you.”
The whistling tea kettle tore the pair from their harmless bickering. Wooyoung half-skipped to the pot and turned off the heat, while Yeosang noticed that his favorite crystal mug was already out and sitting on the counter with the hot cocoa powder sitting in a small mound at the bottom of the glass.
“I must have saved a country in my past life to deserve someone truly as amazing as you,” Yeosang lovingly muttered with his hand against his chin as Wooyoung poured the boiling water from the kettle.
Yeosang could see the way that Wooyoung was trying his hardest to keep the corners of his mouth from practically touching his eyes. He admired the way his best friend of five years, turned lover, took care of him—the way they took care of one another. Even after all of these years they continued to prove to one another that moving from one company to another was the greatest decision that either of them could have ever made. However, from time to time, he couldn’t help but feel that perhaps Wooyoung may have felt some sort of regret as a result of the decision he made. But he would never let him know that. If it was something that Wooyoung wanted to internalize for himself, he would keep his thoughts to himself. Until he was willing to voice his true thoughts and feelings, and after, he would continue to love and support him endlessly.
Wooyoung placed the mug in front of him; the steam swirled at the lip of the mug as the heat rose to skim his nose, “Do you have a busy schedule today?”
Yeosang merely nodded as he took a small sip of the hot liquid.
“Do you want me to pick you up after work?” Wooyoung asked as he twiddled his thumbs.
He shook his head as he wrapped his fingers around the sides of the mug to warm his hands, “Stay home and rest. It’ll be a lot colder by the time I leave. I know you’ll be here waiting for me when I get back.”
Yeosang closed his eyes briefly to take a long sip of his cocoa and not even a moment before opening them again, he could feel Wooyoung wrap his arms around him from behind. The younger had a habit of doing so and then burying his head in the crook of his neck, and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Yeosang was tip his head back just enough to feel Woo’s hair against his jaw.
Wooyoung parted his lips ever so slightly and traced them against the sensitive areas of his neck; it took everything in him not to satisfy him with a response.
“Oh god, can you guys not do this in the kitchen?” Seonghwa complained, “Like, come on guys, not in front of my coffee.”
A round of laughter echoed throughout the communal space as Wooyoung pulled Yeosang even closer to his body, just enough to tempt him to stay home for the remainder of the evening. But Yeosang forced himself to walk out of his grasp to fetch his shoes, leaving Wooyoung and Seonghwa in the kitchen to bicker about PDA for what seemed like the thousandth time. The forecast hadn’t predicted rain, so Yeosang settled for wearing a pair of black and white checkered Vans instead of having to fiddle with shoe laces; he grabbed his long maroon peacoat and folded it over his arm before making his way back into the kitchen.
Wooyoung and Seonghwa had quit their quarreling. Wooyoung was now sitting in front of the television watching the latest episode of some variety show, while Seonghwa fiddled with his phone and iced his coffee.
Yeosang rushed over and leaned down to peck Wooyoung on the cheek, “Okay, I’m going now. Get some rest okay?”
Wooyoung caught his hand as he made a move to walk off and drew him in for a short, sweet kiss, “Be safe, okay? Let me know when you get there.”
He merely nodded as he slightly ruffled his partner’s hair, he stared an extra moment longer before tearing himself away and headed for the door.
“Yeosang!” Seonghwa called out, “Wait for me! Jeez!”
“Wait, Yeosang!” Wooyoung beckoned simultaneously, “What time are you going to be home?”
He stopped short at the door to consider Wooyoung’s question and to wait for Seonghwa to pull on his shoes; a small hum rumbled in his throat as he found Wooyoung’s searching eyes, “I have dance rehearsal for four hours, then I’m supposed to go to the studio to record with Seonghwa and Yunho for however long it takes me to record. I would say about midnight or one o’clock would be the latest.”
Wooyoung appeared to be calculating the number in his head before slumping against the couch and nodding. Seonghwa offered a quick farewell before practically pushing Yeosang out the door.
~
Yeosang was practically dragging his feet by the time his dance instruction was over for the evening. He was sure he had sweat the equivalent of several buckets by the time he had learned the second chorus.
He had never been more grateful for the ice box that was the recording studio.
Seonghwa turned quickly and smiled as he walked through the door, “Nice timing. Yunho is almost done, so all we have to do it record your lines and we’ll get to go home for the night.”
Yeosang glanced to the digital clock that hung on the wall, which read 10:37pm. Not bad.
“You guys must have done some stellar recording to manage that,” he joked.
A laugh passed through Seonghwa’s lips, “How was dance practice?”
Collapsing onto the couch with a groan, his head in the elders lap, was the only answer he offered.
“That bad, huh?”
Yeosang half cried as Yunho stepped out of the recording booth and eyed him with a devilish smile.
“Is it time to go home yet?” he whined as he rolled his eyes.
~
Roughly an hour later, Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Yunho were all crawling into the back seat of the van to go back to the apartment. He hadn’t heard from Wooyoung in several hours, which was probably a good sign that he had fallen asleep. One small victory, considering that Wooyoung had hardly slept in the last two weeks—all of them, if he was being honest with himself.
Yeosang was grateful that neither Seonghwa nor Yunho said a single word for the entire duration of the car ride home. He was too tired to speak; too tired to even muster a single thought. The mere idea of crawling into bed and snuggling up to Wooyoung was enough to make his eyes droop with exhaustion. His head bobbed from side to side as the muscles in his neck relaxed further, and it was almost startling when the car came to a sudden halt. Yeosang whipped his head up to survey his surroundings, he noticed the familiar alley way in front of their apartment building and found himself being unbuckled by Seonghwa just a few short moments later.
“Yeosang,” Seonghwa whispered, “Wake up, we are here.”
He hummed in acknowledgement as he slumped over to grab his duffel bag from the car floor. He was the last to shuffle out with his things and he didn’t hesitate to grab Seonghwa’s open hand to help him out. Seonghwa slung his arm around his neck as they walked up the porch steps; Yunho punched in the four digit code that keyed them into the building, and Yeosang was feeling uncharacteristically restless as they inched closer and closer to their front door. Almost as if on cue, he and Seonghwa stiffened at the loud music that was coming from their apartment. Yunho’s hand hovered over the knob as he turned to them, brows knitted in confusion.
Yeosang turned to Seonghwa, who pulled his phone from his pocket, and when the screen lit up, it read 12:24am. He knew they were a night-owl type of bunch, but it seemed out of the ordinary for the music to be blaring at such a late hour. Especially since they had many neighbors who were either college students or working citizens. Seonghwa’s arm fell to the small of his back, guiding him in as Yunho pushed the door open. Unsurprisingly, the lights were still on, and everything had been left exactly where they had been when they left: the television was on, his half-empty cup of hot chocolate and Seonghwa’s empty glass were still on the kitchen counter, but there was no trace of the other members.
He dropped his bag on the floor and kicked his shoes off as he eyed Seonghwa, who was also concentrating on trying to determine where the music was coming from. The two of them looked at one another and it was almost like a lightbulb went off between them.
“ San ,” they agreed in unison.
Yeosang couldn’t help but roll his neck in irritation as he opted to ignore the music for a couple of extra minutes to clean up the mess they had left in the kitchen. He wasn’t prepared to be scolded by any of the other members in the morning for leaving the dirty dishes on the counter.
“I’ll go tell San to shut the hell up, I’ll be right back out to help you,” Seonghwa said just loud enough as he walked down the hallway.
He let out a sigh as he grabbed the handle of his mug and dumped the remainder of its contents down the drain. He flipped on the faucet and let the water run long enough for it to get hot, but the slamming of a door down the hall startled him into dropping the mug before he was able to get ahold of the sponge.
“Is everything okay?!”
Seonghwa appeared at the opening of the hall looking semi-distraught.
“I thought he was going to turn the music down?” Yeosang wondered aloud as he eyed the dimly lit hallway.
“Yeosang,” Seonghwa’s voice was tight, “I-I’m hungry, why don’t we go and get something to eat?”
A twinge of suspicion shifted uncomfortably in his stomach at the offer, “It’s midnight, Hwa. Just eat a bowl of cereal or something and go to sleep.”
“Can you at least sit out here until I finish eating? I don’t want to eat by myself.”
Yeosang turned off the water, leaving the dirty mug in the sink to deal with for later, and sighed, “You sound like Mingi right now. I’m tired, so I’m going to bed. Don’t forget to do the dishes, okay?”
He walked around the island and past Seonghwa, who looked fifty and a half shades of some emotion he couldn’t pin, but he could hardly find the strength to care. Not only that, he was growing more and more irritated with San’s music, and there was no way in hell he was going to sleep across the way from that all night. He huffed in defeat as his fingers wrapped around the door knob.
“Yeosang! Wait!” Seonghwa hollered. Yeosang was vaguely aware of his quickening pace towards him.
He twisted the knob and the door flung open, “San...if you don’t turn down your music, I’m—”
He could have sworn that his heart stopped in his chest. Just half a second ago there was blaring music, now he could hear nothing but the blood rushing and the sound of his heartbeat pulsing in his ears. Not even five feet from where he stood, he saw San and Wooyoung, completely tangled in the sheets of San’s bed. He knew a compromising situation when he saw one, and he knew that they knew it as they frantically scrambled for words and clothes.
“Yeosang,” Wooyoung’s voice was husky and breathless as he jumped up and rushed towards him.
He stumbled backwards into who he assumed was Seonghwa standing behind him. The eldest member revealed himself by wrapping a hand around his arm and pulling him to his side.
“Don’t, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warned, “ Don’t. ”
“ Yeosang , please ,” Wooyoung pleaded, “It’s not what you think—”
A swift coldness settled in his veins, and he was grateful for Seonghwa’s touch, which was keeping him anchored to his rationale.
“Shut your mouth,” Seonghwa gritted through his teeth as he firmly tightened his grip around his wrist.
He was hardly aware of the fact that a distance was being forced between him, Wooyoung, and San. It wasn’t until he recognized the familiar and unmissable fiery red hair that was Hongjoong’s, who sat at the furthest corner of the room with his laptop splayed across his lap.
“What’s going on?” Hongjoong asked as he pulled his earbuds from his ears. He glanced at his watch, a short fleeting look of confusion crossed his features, “I know we are a bunch of night owls and all but—”
“Don’t ask,” Seonghwa stated plainly, locking the door behind him.
Yeosang’s knees gave out from underneath him, and he landed with a hard thud when he hit the floor. He knew it should have hurt. Logically and physically, it should have. And yet, he felt nothing. He wasn’t even entirely sure if he was referring to his sudden fall or the emotional betrayal that managed to shatter him whole in a matter of seconds. All he knew was that he was in a safe space...for now. It would only be a matter of time before either Wooyoung or San, or both of them, came sprinting down the hall in a desperate attempt to explain a situation that hardly needed any.
He wanted to curse his weak heart for even considering the idea of hearing them out, but he knew he would. He knew he would have to, whether he wanted to or not—whether he liked it or not. Because before anything else, they were teammates. Coworkers . Somehow, someway, he would have to come to terms with what he had uncovered, so that he could lock it all away and pretend like everything was going to be alright. He knew he could do it: go to work, smile and joke around as if everything was completely normal; he would embody and endure that persona for however long it would take him to forget the feeling that passed through his veins like a stinging venom.
“Hwa…” His voice was husky despite the tears he had not shed. Their eyes met with a mutual understanding that he was not ready to talk, but he that needed him to stay by his side anyways. And he would oblige, for he knew Seonghwa’s character just as much as he knew his own. A brother who would never abandon his own during a time of need.
He let his back rest against the cool wood of the bedroom door, and the back of his head hit it with a soft thunk . He closed his eyes against the harsh white-yellow light of the room and took several deep breaths. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if Seonghwa hadn’t been there to steer him away from catastrophe. Would he have fought? He most likely would have yelled, but he could barely believe that he would have been violent towards either Wooyoung or San. At least that’s what he liked to think. He let that path, which was nothing more than a what-if or could-have-been, fall away from the forefront of his mind, and pushed it away to consider for another time. He wanted to cry, needed to, but there was nothing. There wasn’t even a kernel of energy left in his body for him to muster even a single tear. He was at a new limit, one that was both emotional and physical, one that was indescribable, he most likely would never be able to put it into words.
It wasn’t a feeling. At least, that’s what it seemed like. If it had been a feeling, he should have felt something. Anything . And yet, he lay barren amidst a waterless sea of emotions.
“Talk to me.”
He slowly cranked his head towards Seonghwa, who had found a seat next to him against the wall, and seemed to stare at him endlessly with that concerned, loving gaze, but there didn’t seem to be enough words in the world to describe how he was feeling.
“I know you’ve never been good with words,” Seonghwa prefaced as he shifted slightly closer to him, “You’ve always been the most timid and closed-off amongst the eight of us, and I understand the desire of wanting to keep everything locked up. But...I can’t help but think that this isn’t the sort of situation that calls for silence. I know you must be feeling extremely overwhelmed and hurt, and I’ll give you whatever time you need to sort out those emotions, just don’t forget that it’s okay to talk about these sort of things. I’ll be here to listen.”
Yeosang’s eyes flickered to where Hongjoong was suddenly standing, laptop discarded in his sitting chair, “Yeosang, what’s going on?”
He could feel the warmth of Seonghwa’s hand slipping into his—an anchor. The familiar feeling of his friend’s presence instilled security, as if he was brought back down to Earth, one that established a sense of order amidst the chaos.
“What am I going to do?” He croaked out.
They were the only words he managed to get out before completely crumbling. Seonghwa engulfed him in his arms as he noiselessly cried. There was no hyperventilating, no hiccuping, no screaming, no lashing out of any sort. He was merely pressed up against Seonghwa’s chest, taking deep breath after deep breath, as the icy tears slid down his face.
Hongjoong crouched down in front of the pair, equal parts confused and concerned, until Seonghwa recounted the chain of events that brought them here.
“Oh my god…” Hongjoong whispered as he hesitantly placed a hand atop his and Seonghwa’s.
Yeosang shuttered at the warmth of their touch as a knock shook the door behind them.
“Yeosang, Seonghwa ...please, I know you’re in there, open the door,” San plead, his voice muffled by the wooden barrier between them.
Neither of them said a thing. They remained completely and utterly still; Yeosang was sure that his breath caught in his throat, he wouldn’t even risk exhaling. He didn’t want to hear anything from San, or Wooyoung for that matter. He didn’t want an explanation, didn’t want his pitiful excuses. It wouldn’t change what happened, it wouldn’t change how he felt, and it wouldn’t change the outcome of the situation.
He waited until he heard San’s fading footsteps to finally breathe.
The numbness was finally beginning to settle, and (almost contradictingly) with it came a kaleidoscope of emotions. He had wasted all of his love on a cheater. Time, effort, and emotions devoted to a person who couldn’t resist the sweetness of temptation.
Seonghwa fit a hand underneath Yeosang’s armpit, and with the help of Hongjoong, helped him up from the floor and over to the empty bottom bunk. He hardly cared about the worn and used clothes from training as Seonghwa made every effort to make him as comfortable as possible, while Hongjoong pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed up to his shoulders.
His eyes began to droop with a new sort of exhaustion than he experienced in the car as Seonghwa stroked his hair, his fingers diving deep into his brown locks, almost in a massage-like manner.
“Sleep, Yeosang,” Seonghwa urged softly.
There was a familiar sound of slippers hitting the floor as the bed shifted slightly. He turned enough to see that Seonghwa had settled himself on top of the blankets next to him, their eyes met briefly before the edges of his vision began to blur again. His eldest friend wrapped an arm around him, drawing him closer, and then tucked him underneath his chin. His warmth was comforting enough to soothe the ache in his heart, just long enough for him to slip into a distant dreamscape.
Seonghwa continued to smooth his hair until he recognized the deep and steady pattern of breathing that indicated he was fast asleep. He pulled back just enough to look at Yeosang’s expression, which seemed to be emotionally distraught, even in sleep.
He did hesitate to lift his hand and cup Yeosang’s cheek. His thumb lightly grazed the soft skin that warmed his palm, “I’ll protect your heart,” he whispered, “I promise.”