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“You have four rooms, split up however you’d like,” their manager sighed, looking at his watch nervously for the ninth time. It had been a long day, and their next schedule would be painfully early. “It’s too late, please go to bed straight away?” he asked, knowing perfectly well from the wicked smiles he received that his request wouldn’t be obeyed. Well, some of them might go to bed, but going to sleep would be a different thing entirely.
“Can we share a room?” a small voice asked behind Hongjoong’s shoulder. The leader turned around, already smiling tiredly.
“Yes, please,” he half-whined at the idea of having to be with anyone but Seonghwa. He knew the two of them actually would go to sleep, and he needed the rest bitterly.
“Cool,” the oldest chuckled, picking up his bags and heading towards the stairs. Hongjoong ignored San’s knowing smile. He’d tried too many times to convince him that there was nothing to know, and he was too tired to deal with it again.
***
Hongjoong had, in fact, been sorely mistaken. As soon as the hotel room door slammed behind the two of them, Seonghwa turned around, almost all of the exhaustion gone from his face.
“No, Seonghwa, not tonight,” Hongjoong fake sobbed. “I’m tired…”
“We never get to hang out just the two of us anymore,” the oldest pouted, pulling out what was very clearly two bottles of soju from his coat pockets. “Please?”
And really, one would have to be entirely devoid of humanity to resist Seonghwa’s puppy eyes. Or maybe that was just Hongjoong, and his faltering heartbeat he desperately tried to ignore.
“Fine, but we’re only sharing one bottle. I genuinely am exhausted.”
“Yes,” Seonghwa cheered, jumping on the bed.
Ah. The single bed. They must have taken San’s and Wooyoung’s room on accident. Hongjoong shrugged. It wouldn’t take very long for the couple to come claim it back anyways, he’d enjoy the peace and quiet until then.
Hongjoong set his bags down and quickly changed to his pajamas, unbothered by the other man’s presence. Privacy had long stopped existing between the eight of them, and it wasn’t like he didn’t actually share a room with Seonghwa back at the dorm. He missed the older man’s lazy eyes on him, missed the gulp when he removed his shirt.
“So, what has you in such a festive mood?” he asked, pulling the hood over his head and getting ready to wash his face. He’d want to slide into bed and fall asleep as soon as Seonghwa would be done drinking, so it was best to get it all out of the way.
“I just miss you,” Seonghwa mumbled, shrugging. “I know the deadline for the album is soon, and you’re busy, but I wish you’d come home from time to time.”
“Aww, are you lonely?” the leader teased, unsure where the sudden overt affection was coming from and frankly a little unsettled by it.
“Yeah, I guess,” Seonghwa chuckled. He opened the bottle, pouring the alcohol in two shot glasses and holding one out for Hongjoong to take.
The leader smiled a little sadly, taking the glass and knocking it back quickly, chuckling through the slight burn in his throat. “Aren’t we getting a little too old for this?” he asked, hiding his cough. If soju was this hard for him to drink, he really had turned into an old man.
“We’re twenty-two,” Seonghwa dead-panned, refilling his glass. “You’ve just gone soft.”
“Oh, it’s on,” Hongjoong laughed, handing him his glass.
***
They did not stop at one bottle. In fact, they didn’t stop at two either. Seonghwa had packed four, and they drank every drop, inventing silly games as their heads spun and their blood warmed.
“If you can land your shoe upside down, I’ll drink,” the older giggled, pointing to his Vans before laying down on the bed.
“The bottles are empty, dumbass,” Hongjoong laughed, joining him.
“Oh fuck, really?” The leader raised a brow, amused at the language.
“I think it’s time to go to bed,” he chuckled, sitting up.
“No, wait,” Seonghwa mumbled, wrapping his fingers around his wrist. Hongjoong was drunk enough to admit to himself that the touch electrified him. When he turned around, his jaw dropped a little.
Seonghwa’s eyes held heat he hadn’t expected, hooded as he looked at him, expectant. Hongjoong was swimming in alcohol, and yet he had never felt more sober in his life. He didn’t think, his hand reaching out to brush the ruffled hair from Seonghwa’s forehead. This was dangerous, he was distantly aware of it. They had danced around each other for years, no matter what sober-him argued. Alcohol and solitude and a single bed room were a very dangerous combo, he should have known that.
“Seonghwa…” he murmured, pulling his hand back. He couldn’t. Seonghwa was all he had. He couldn’t risk it.
“Sorry,” he chuckled, closing his eyes as he dropped his head back into the mattress. Hongjoong very pointedly did not look at his throat, stretched out beautifully in the moonlight.
Instead, he fled to the bathroom. When he stepped back out, half an hour later, Seonghwa was already deeply asleep.
***
Sleep didn’t come. Hongjoong was exhausted, and he wanted nothing more than to get in bed and finally close his eyes. But as he sat on the window ledge, staring at his sleeping roommate, he stayed frozen in place.
Wooyoung and San hadn’t come to claim the room. By some unexpected turn of events, they had kept the double, and Hongjoong was now stuck with this feeling bubbling in his chest, glaring at the single bed he was expected to share with the man who owned his heart.
Fuck. The man who owned his heart.
He watched Seonghwa sleep, his chest rising and falling with soft, quiet breaths, for what felt like hours. The moonlight turned his skin silver, and all Hongjoong could think about was the art history class he once took in hopes of becoming a better writer. Seonghwa looked like those marble statues he had nearly cried over, incapable of coming with anything other than “they’re pretty.”
He would have had no problem writing page after page to describe the magnificence of Seonghwa’s features in that moment. He was incapable of shutting down his mind, too vulnerable to stop the cheesy compliments he might have let slip if Seonghwa had only been awake.
As long as he was thinking about his beauty though, Hongjoong was safe. Everyone could see how attractive his friend was, this didn’t mean anything other than that Hongjoong wasn’t blind. But when he considered his lips and thought of how much he had wanted to kiss him earlier, when he found his closed lids and could so clearly picture the exact color of his irises underneath, he would have had to be a fool not to realize what was happening.
Thoughts of the man’s beauty inevitably turned to thoughts of how important Seonghwa had become to him over the years, despite his best efforts to remain the lone wolf he had always been. Hongjoong hadn’t been able to admit it, but he missed him too. He hated album deadlines, hated that he couldn’t invite Seonghwa to sit in his studio while he wrote and composed because he wouldn’t get any work done with him around. He hated how much he needed his presence to breathe. The only reason why he was this exhausted was because being away from him kept him awake, obsessively worried and attention starved.
But most importantly, he hated how incapable he was of expressing any of it. Seonghwa was laying there, blissfully asleep and utterly unaware that he owned Hongjoong’s entire world.
The leader felt his own eyes burn with frustrated tears. He watched San and Wooyoung every day and burned with jealousy at how easily they loved each other. He wanted that for himself so badly. And how difficult could it be, when Seonghwa had never judged or hated him for anything? He’d been there for him from day one, shouldering the pressures of leadership and standing up for him when no one else dared to. He had never refused him anything, never looked at him differently after any of the breakdowns he just couldn’t hold back anymore.
Seonghwa might not love him back, but he would never stop being his friend, Hongjoong was sure of it. So why in the world wasn’t he in bed, cuddling him to sleep?
A soft ding rang from his phone. He picked it up with a flinch, immediately silencing it. San had texted him. Why was he still up?
So? How’s the room?
Fuck off.
It took quite a bit of convincing to get Wooyoung to give it up. You could at least be thankful.
Of course, you did it on purpose…
Did I make your wildest dreams come true?
I don’t know what you’re talking about. Go to bed.
Oh, trust me, I am in bed.
Eww.
The question is why aren’t you?
I’m not doing this right now.
Your loss
Hongjoong sighed, exiting the messaging app. He hated how transparent he seemed to be, even when his own silence tortured him. His phone vibrated in his hand again, and he almost ignored it before realizing that it was a notification from his calendar app, and not another pushy message.
“Last song due in one (1) week.”
Hongjoong sighed again. He was well aware of the deadline, and yet he had been struggling to produce the last part of the album for days. He knew that the company had plenty of producers standing by with songs already made for them, but he really wanted to be the one to make it.
Seonghwa shifted on the bed, pulling a pillow between his arms with a soft whine. Hongjoong bit his bottom lip, hating how much he wanted to be that pillow. He shook his head, thudding it against the window. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about this? He had a song to write, or at the very least sleep to catch up on. Now was not the time to tear his hair out over his own cowardice and utter inability to express any kind of affection, ever. Hell, at this point, singing about it might be easier.
And then it clicked. He brought a finger to his mouth, nervously biting the polish and nail off as he wondered if he should really be even considering this. The company had been very clear. They wouldn’t enforce a dating ban, and they wouldn’t try to separate Woosan, so long as they kept it as hidden as possible. Not that Wooyoung and San were the most subtle couple to have ever walked the earth. Still, they weren’t going around writing love songs about each other. Well… they weren’t asking for those songs to be put on any albums anyways.
But as time went by and the sky lightened again, it became evident that Hongjoong wouldn’t be able to think of anything else. The thought had popped in his head already, it wasn’t going anywhere.
***
“You want to write Seonghwa a love song?” San choked on his drink, clumsily wiping down his face and the table.
"No,” Hongjoong rolled his eyes, hiding his blush because, yes, that was exactly what he wanted. “I was just thinking that he’s always there for me, and I’m an ass to him, like, ninety-eight percent of the time. You know how he loves all that cheesy stuff. I just want to do something nice.”
“You want to court him,” San chuckled, eyes mischievous.
“Are you going to help, or not?”
“No, I’m not,” San smiled.
“Excuse me?”
“If you’re going to write Seonghwa a love song, I’m not going to help. You need to be the one to do it, otherwise it doesn’t mean anything.”
“It’s not a love song,” Hongjoong muttered in his glass.
But maybe San was right. If he wanted Seonghwa to understand how he felt, he’d have to be the one to write the words. He let his head fall on the table with a loud, painful thud, San chuckling as he reached out to ruffle his hair affectionately.
"It’ll be the best one ever written, I’m sure of it,” the younger man smiled, proud.
***
“This is good,” their manager nodded, taking out the headphones from his ears. “Who’s the lucky lady?” he asked, nudging his shoulder playfully.
“Yeah, about that…” Hongjoong chuckled nervously.
"It’s okay, I know,” the man smiled, putting the phone down. “I trust that you know the rules.”
“It’s not like that,” Hongjoong panicked, gripping his phone.
“Even if it was,” he generously played along. “I know this isn’t the fun part of being an idol, and I really wish I didn’t have to ask any of you to hide. But I’m on your side, no matter what. If you feel like this is something you need to put out into the world, I’ll approve the song. It’s subtle enough.”
“Thanks,” Hongjoong whispered.
“You did good, kid,” the manager smiled. “He’ll like it.”
“God, I hope so,” the leader chuckled nervously, wiping his palms on his thighs.
***
ATEEZ had a little ritual when discovering the tracks for their new albums for the first time. They were always given the demos by the company and were expected to have listened to all of them by the next day, especially those they hadn’t helped produce at all. Some artists liked to do so on their own, to sit with the songs for a while before discussing them with the rest of their team. They could make them their own that way, before being influenced by the opinions and feelings of others.
ATEEZ wasn’t like that. The company had long stopped sending the files to every member. Instead, they gave Jongho a single USB stick - he was the least likely to actually lose it. The eight men would then get in their pajamas, grab the fluffiest blankets and pillows they had, face masks and warm drinks, and meet in their living room to listen to the demos as a group, sharing enthusiastic responses as they discovered them together.
"This album is gonna be so good,” Wooyoung exclaimed when there was only one track left. He snuggled a little closer to San, stealing a sip from his boyfriend’s hot chocolate. He smiled wide when San just handed him the entire mug to finish.
“Wonderland will be amazing, I can just feel it,” Yunho agreed, casually throwing his arm around Mingi’s shoulder. Everyone pretended not to see. It was no secret that something was happening between the two of them, but Mingi had always been shy and anxious. They all knew the panic they could cause. It was best to leave them to figure things out in their own time.
“What’s the last song?” San asked with a smirk most of the members missed.
“It’s uh…” Hongjoong stuttered, blushing furiously. “It won’t be the last song on the actual track list, or at least I don’t think so. But it’s something a little different, I guess. Let’s just play it,” he shrugged instead of trying to explain.
“Did you write it?” San pressed. The leader rolled his eyes.
“Yes, San, I wrote it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about it?” Seonghwa asked, small.
“I…”
“Okay, let’s play it,” San winced. He pulled away from Wooyoung long enough to hit play on the laptop, quickly going back to his whiny, clingy boyfriend.
Hongjoong pointedly avoided Seonghwa’s pout. He stared at his own fidgeting fingers as the song played, his own shaky, nervous voice too loud through the speakers scattered around the room. He couldn’t help but focus on all the flaws, the notes he barely missed because emotion had choked him up. He thought of the clumsy words, how they didn’t seem enough anymore.
When the final notes resonated in the room, and they had yet to break the silence, he wanted the disappear. He wished for someone to say something, anything, so that they might get the conversation over with and he’d never have to face Seonghwa again. He had been painfully aware of the slightly increasing distance between them, the older’s face falling ever so subtly as the song went by.
Hongjoong blinked back the tears, suddenly regretting whatever drunken, midnight instinct had overtaken him in that hotel room. What had he been thinking?
"I have to go,” he said when the silence was too heavy to bear. “I have a meeting with the producers, we still have stuff the discuss.”
“It’s ten,” Yeosang deadpanned.
“They were busy before, I just… I have to go.”
And as every other time emotions had gotten too real, Hongjoong fled.
***
Seonghwa slammed the door shut behind himself, facing the ever-empty room he was supposed to share with Hongjoong. The lyrics of the song were burned in his mind, playing on a loop. Jealousy burned his throat and chest, he thought he might choke on it. His fingers itched to break something, anything. He had never been a violent person, but then again no one had ever been so cruel to him before.
“Hey, Seonghwa,” a small voice called from behind the door. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m great,” he scoffed, already knowing Wooyoung would come in whether he wanted him to or not. They had all agreed when they moved in to not install locks on their doors to keep from isolating themselves when things got hard. He was deeply regretting that decision. “I’m not doing this,” Seonghwa said when Wooyoung sat on the bed. “I’m not singing that stupid song. I don’t want it on the album.”
"Seonghwa…”
"All those nights he spent in the studio… Is that even where he was? When did he have time to meet anyone? He talks about them like they’re always together, so how long has he been hiding this?” His head was spinning. The floor was disappearing beneath his feet, everything he thought he knew crumbling away. Did he even know Hongjoong at all?
“Did you listen to the lyrics?” Wooyoung asked.
"Of course, I did, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes.
"Then what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? He wrote a love song.”
“Yes, he did,” the younger nodded patiently.
“And he wants us to sing it for him. He wants us to help him tell that person how much they mean to him. He wants me to…” he tried, choking on the tears. “I can’t…”
"Wait, you really think…”
“I can’t,” Seonghwa cut him off. “I know I had all the time in the world to tell him and it’s my fault that it’s too late. I know I shouldn’t have taken this long. He has every right to… But I can’t do this.”
“Seonghwa…” Wooyoung sighed again, shaking his head.
“I’m happy for him,” the older tried. “He sounds happy, they sound great. But Wooyoung, I love him.”
"I know.”
“I love him and he loves someone else and I can’t help him tell them how much. I can’t sing that song over and over, in the studio or on stage. I’ll die.”
“You’re not going to die,” Wooyoung chuckled sadly, patting the bed next to him. Seonghwa sat down, all but falling his arms. “But don’t come to conclusions too quickly. Talk to him about it.”
“To say what? If he wanted to talk about them, he would have told me. He didn’t even tell me…”
“I think he’s been trying,” Wooyoung said. “Give him a chance to explain.”
***
“He didn’t even say anything,” Hongjoong scoffed in his empty glass, words slurring. “It’s been a week since he heard the song and he hasn’t said anything. Why did you let me do this?” he asked, a little angry as he pointed an accusing finger to his drinking partner for the night.
“Have you talked to him?” San asked, a little annoyed. This was the third time they were having that conversation that evening. The alcohol seemed to have thrown the leader in a loop of self-pity and unjustified anger at San.
“Of course, I haven’t talked to him. That’s what the song was for! Why hasn’t he talked to me? It’s his turn to make a move.”
“Have you thought about the possibility that perhaps he didn’t realize the song was for him? I mean, it’s not like you were very explicit about that part.”
“He should know! I don’t have any friends. He’s the only person for me, it can’t be about anyone else,” Hongjoong said, a little annoyed that San seemed to be questioning Seonghwa’s intelligence.
“I don’t think anyone expected something like this from you, though,” San said carefully. “You don’t express yourself a lot with him, maybe he just needs a bit of a hint and then he’ll be right there with you.”
“But we’re always on the same page!”
“Why don’t you want to tell him the song is about him? You already wrote it, what’s the point in doing that if you’ll let him misunderstand it?”
“I can’t tell him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I just…” Hongjoong sighed, frustrated. “Do you know how many times I worked late on purpose just so I wouldn’t have to stumble through small talk like an idiot? I don’t know how to talk to people in general. But he makes me lose my mind entirely. He’s just so…”
“So what?”
“So Seonghwa.”
"Okay,” San chuckled. “You’re not an idiot for being nervous around the man you love.”
“I don’t love him,” Hongjoong quickly said, the words nothing but a knee-jerk reaction, a reflex after years of denying it.
“Hongjoong,” San frowned, disapproving.
“I love him…” the leader pouted.
"Progress. Good.”
“I don’t want to tell him. I already did. The song,” he rambled drunkenly.
“Do you want me to tell him?”
“No!” he quickly shouted. “Yes?” he amended, smaller.
“I’ll tell him then.”
“No, you can’t,” Hongjoong panicked. “What if he figures out I like him?”
“I thought that was the point?” San chuckled. “Don’t you want that? You can’t be with him if you don’t tell each other.”
“What if he doesn’t like me back?” Hongjoong asked, scared.
“Trust me, he does,” the younger rolled his eyes.
“Then why hasn’t he talked to me?” the leader asked again.
“Okay, I think it’s time to go home,” San sighed, standing up.
***
It took another week for Seonghwa to realize that Hongjoong had written his love song for him. Seonghwa spent those two weeks absolutely miserable, missing studio sessions as often as possible to avoid the time when he would be called to record his part of ‘Thank U.’
No matter how many nights he cried himself to sleep, suffocating with the now permanent weight of Hongjoong’s absence from their room, the pain didn’t go away. He had listened to the song obsessively, desperately trying to figure out who it could be about. It tore his heart apart every time. Hongjoong’s voice was beautiful. Slightly shaky with raw emotions, but beautiful. In the darkest hours of the night, he allowed himself to imagine, just for a moment, that perhaps those words were meant for him. That Hongjoong had been thinking of him when singing them, that maybe he was the cause of the shakiness.
“Hey Seonghwa,” San called, opening the door without knocking, as usual. Seonghwa flinched, putting the phone down. He had been wearing headphones, but still he felt like he had been caught reading Hongjoong’s diary. “We’re all having dinner together tonight, do you want to join?”
“Yeah,” the older sighed, getting up to grab a sweater. He could use an evening of distraction.
“Cool. Wooyoung’s cooking.”
“Obviously,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like anyone else could.
Seonghwa had been very wrong to agree. When he walked into the living room, they were all already there, Hongjoong discussing with Yeosang and Jongho. The oldest panicked for a moment, glaring at San.
Hongjoong sounded so tired. His eyes lacked their sparkle, purples shadows drowning them out. Seonghwa hated it. He imagined why he was so tired, what could have kept him awake. Jealousy left a bitter taste on his tongue.
Seonghwa’s cheeks burned when everyone sat in their usual order around the table, leaving him a seat right next to Hongjoong. He took it silently, keeping his head down and his eyes focused on his food the entire evening. If there had been a polite way to leave, he would have done it.
“So,” San started when they were all done with desert, everyone full and content. “What are we recording tomorrow?” he asked.
“’Thank U’ I think,” Jongho piped up. He had been softly braiding some of Yeosang’s hair, his eyes still focused on his task. Seonghwa’s cheeks burned, fists tightening in his lap under the table.
“Yeah,” Hongjoong replied quickly, clipped.
“Are you ever going to tell us who you wrote it for?” San continued.
“Yeah, we want to meet the lucky lady,” Mingi said, paying along.
“I bet it’s a guy,” Yunho joined.
“Is it?” Wooyoung asked, catching on to his boyfriend’s antics. “A guy, I mean.”
“Yes,” Hongjoong replied quickly.
“Do we know him?” San pressed.
“Yes.”
“Wait, we do?” Seonghwa asked despite himself. He bit his own tongue immediately, running through the possibilities in his mind quickly.
“Technically, I guess?” Hongjoong winced, shrinking in his chair.
“Oh my god,” San rolled his eyes.
“I can’t,” the leader said, apologetically whining.
“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” Seonghwa said, polite but cold. So cold. He wanted to leave.
“Oh my god,” Wooyoung echoed, gripping his boyfriend’s arm.
“See, I told you,” San said, looking at Hongjoong meaningfully.
“You guys are being so cryptic,” Mingi mockingly sighed in faked frustration. “If it’s about me, you can just say it.”
“What?” Seonghwa and Hongjoong gasped at the same time, blushing as they avoided each other’s eyes.
“You’re an idiot,” Yunho chuckled, pinching Mingi’s cheek.
“I don’t know who the biggest idiot here is,” Wooyoung laughed, looking between the two oldest. “Should we just tell him?”
“I think we should,” San nodded.
“Please…” Hongjoong fake sobbed. Seonghwa’s head was spinning, incapable of catching up with the riddle everyone else seemed to have already solved.
“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” he asked, frustrated beyond words.
“We’re talking about you,” San finally said, leaning back in his chair.
“San,” Hongjoong gasped.
"Excuse me?” the oldest choked out.
"Who do you think the song is about?” San asked, ignoring the leader.
“How should I know? Hongjoong hasn’t told me anything, we barely see each other lately.”
“This isn’t working,” Wooyoung whined.
“No, it’s not,” Yunho sighed.
“What’s not working?” Seonghwa asked, anger bubbling in his chest.
“You’re not understanding,” San said, still not explaining anything.
“What am I supposed to understand?”
“That I wrote the goddamn song about you,” Hongjoong finally exploded. Silence settled over them, heavy and uncomfortable.
Seonghwa’s jaw dropped a little, confused noises escaping his throat. He tried to meet the members’ gazes one after the other, but none of them looked at him, not really. Hongjoong’s presence next to him was unbearable.
He was having difficulty finding a way to rationalize what Hongjoong had just said. How could the song be about him? Sure, he had done everything the lyrics said, had helped Hongjoong through thick and thin, when the responsibilities of leadership had been suffocating and he had wanted to give up. They had fought more times than he could count, though the threats had been empty. They went to sleep and woke up in the same room often, and his own singing practices had often disturbed Hongjoong’s naps. It could be about him, he supposed.
So perhaps the song hadn’t been a love song at all, he slowly realized. Maybe he had been overthinking it. Maybe this was nothing more than a ‘thank you’ song, as the title suggested. Disappointment bit at his heart sorely.
“I see…”
“Do you?” Hongjoong asked, hopeful.
"You didn’t have to write a whole song, you know?” Seonghwa laughed dejectedly. “A simple thank you once in a while would have been enough.”
“What?” the leader asked, frowning.
“Okay, this is ridiculous,” Wooyoung intervened. “Seonghwa, dear, he’s in love with you.”
"What he said,” Hongjoong nodded, seemingly relieved.
“Why are you doing this?” Seonghwa asked, tears burning his eyes. “What have I ever done to you? How could you be so cruel, all of you?”
“Wait, what?” It was Jongho’s turn to be surprised.
Seonghwa shook his head, incapable of holding back the tears any longer. So instead, he stood up, fleeing from the living room.
Before he could close the bedroom door, a hand pushed it back open. Seonghwa groaned in frustration when Hongjoong stepped in, closing it behind himself.
"Seonghwa…”
“You are the worst person I’ve ever met,” the older said through the tears. “I can’t believe you would do something like this to me. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be in love with you? To have everyone know it? You do nothing but disregard every effort I ever make to get closer to you. I mean, you’re never here, it’s like you’re constantly running away from me. You don’t have to love me back. I certainly don’t expect you to. But to play with my heart like this…”
“Seonghwa…”
“Is there even someone else? Did you write the song about someone real, or did you make it all up to make sure I’d know I could never be yours? Because if I made you that uncomfortable, you could have just told me. You could have talked to me; you didn’t have to…”
“Seonghwa, please…”
“I mean, I’m not an idiot. I remember how you looked at me that night, when we drank together, when I... You couldn’t even get in the bed. I know you don’t love me back. But this… This was completely unnecessary. And to have the boys play along as well…”
"Seonghwa!” Hongjoong shouted. “Stop it!”
Seonghwa’s mouth shut tight, a little taken aback by the leader’s sudden burst of anger. He watched him rub his face tiredly, sighing deeply. When he met Seonghwa’s eyes again, there was deep sorrow in them.
“The song is real. It’s about you, and it’s real. I wrote it because I have been catastrophically in love with you for years, and not being able to tell you was killing me. I didn’t get in bed with you that night because I couldn’t trust myself with being so close to you. Not when you looked at me the way that you did, not when you were too drunk to know what you were doing or saying. I couldn’t risk it. And I know I’ve been a terrible friend to you, especially recently. I know I don’t say what I’m thinking or feeling nearly enough, and I know that I shouldn’t run away from you so often. But the truth is, I am terrified of who I become when I’m with you.”
“Who do you become?” Seonghwa asked distantly.
“Someone who wants to write love songs to share with the world. Someone who stays awake for hours because I’m afraid I’ll wake up and realize you were a dream.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I love you,” Hongjoong said, the words devastatingly simple and complicated.
“Why didn’t you tell me the song was about me? Why didn’t you talk to me? I thought…”
“I know what you thought now. But Seonghwa, I assumed you knew, that you understood the song and your silence was your response. I thought you were saying no.”
“No to what?”
“To me? To being with me?” Hongjoong said, so small and scared it shattered Seonghwa’s heart.
"I could never say no to you… You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
Hongjoong chuckled through relieved tears, stepping closer to wrap his arms around Seonghwa’s waist. The older felt it all collapse inside of him, the fear and the jealousy and the pain of the past weeks. He covered his own face in shaky hands, gasping through the sobs.
“I thought I was too late… I thought…”
“I know,” Hongjoong said, shushing him gently. “I love you. Only you.”
“I love you, too,” Seonghwa cried, allowing himself to bury his face in the leader’s neck.
They spent hours laying together in Seonghwa’s too small bed, their legs and hands comfortably tangled between them. They talked about everything they had done on their own recently, Hongjoong explaining how difficult the production process had been for their new album, and Seonghwa telling him about their singing rehearsals and the bickering he had had to endure in the leader’s absence. It was difficult to grasp, really, how much and how little had changed.
“I don’t think I ever told you how breathtaking you are,” Hongjoong whispered, tracing Seonghwa’s cheekbones and brows with a careful finger. That was definitely new.
“Stop,” Seonghwa blushed. He had been told he was attractive millions of times before; it came with the job. But the words sounded different in Hongjoong mouth, important.
“Get used to it,” the leader smiled easily, brushing his lips against the tip of his nose. When his gaze dropped to Seonghwa’s mouth, the older’s heart skipped a beat.
“You can kiss me if you want,” he quickly said, nervous.
“What?” Hongjoong chuckled, amused.
"It looked like you were going to kiss me, and I wanted to tell you, in case you might think I wasn’t ready or something.”
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Hongjoong asked, smiling teasingly.
“Yes?” Seonghwa said, blushing as he closed his eyes. When nothing happened, he opened one up again, confused.
“I can’t believe I was ever scared to tell you,” the younger shook his head, pressing a thumb into Seonghwa’s bottom lip. “I can’t believe I didn’t write that stupid song sooner.”
“It’s not a stupid song,” Seonghwa pouted, gripping Hongjoong’s wrist to softly kiss his knuckles.
“Did you like it then?”
“I hated it. It was everything I ever dreamed of you saying, and I thought you had written it for someone else. I hated it even more because it’s one of your best songs yet.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t clearer… I’m sorry I didn’t make it more obvious that it could never be anyone else for me.”
“Kiss me?” Seonghwa asked after a pause, small.
It wasn’t like anything Seonghwa had ever imagined, and he’d imagined this a lot. He’d wondered if it would be soft and full of tears after years of avoiding the inevitable. He sometimes wished it could be a little violent, a firm break from all the forced numbness between them. But Hongjoong kissed him like he was the most precious, fragile thing in the world, and he was fighting some instinct to break him entirely. He kissed like he was at first, cautious and so clearly holding back.
Seonghwa whined, hands reaching out to bring Hongjoong’s face closer. He rolled on his back, pulling the man on top of him and wrapping a leg around his waist. He wanted more, he wanted to feel what Hongjoong had said in the song.
“Seonghwa, sweetheart,” the leader whispered against his lips. “Should we slow down? I don’t want to make you feel like…”
“I don’t want to slow down,” the older interrupted him, a little breathless. “Do you want to slow down?”
“Not really,” Hongjoong groaned, wrapping a hand around his jaw, fingers firm on his cheeks. “But…”
“I love you. I want you to kiss me like you love me too,” Seonghwa said. That seemed to do the trick.
When their lips met again, Seonghwa’s entire body stopped belonging to him. With every kiss and lick and bite and pull, Hongjoong took a little bit more, and the older hated every day that they could have done this and hadn’t.
“I love you,” Hongjoong murmured against his neck, sucking on the skin slowly until his words were marked there, soft red and deliciously sore. Seonghwa’s fingers tangled in his hair, tight and possessive.
“You don’t know how long I waited for you to say that,” he said, pulling him closer.
“I think I have a rough idea, actually,” Hongjoong chuckled, pressing dozens of kisses all over his face until Seonghwa giggled with glee.
“The boys are probably behind the door,” he sighed when his mind cleared up just enough to hear a very soft giggle.
“Oh, they’re definitely behind the door,” Hongjoong laughed, loud enough to provoke six rushed sets of footsteps, scrambling to leave before they could be discovered.
“You look exhausted,” Seonghwa said, brushing his fingers through the leader’s hair and realizing that he didn’t need to map out his features anymore. He knew his face by heart already.
“I am exhausted,” Hongjoong confessed. “I couldn’t sleep…”
“Stay here tonight?”
“You couldn’t get me to leave even if you wanted to,” the leader smiled, kissing the tip of Seonghwa’s nose.
They held each other close that night. And when the sun came up, and their manager called to tell them it was time record Hongjoong’s song, Seonghwa smiled, pressing small kisses into his neck as the leader received their instructions for the day. They easily sat through the members’ teasing at breakfast, and laughed when their makeup artist scolded Hongjoong’s for the bruise on Seonghwa’s throat. She hadn’t even needed to be told to guess.
But when Seonghwa stood alone in the recording room, and he couldn’t hold back the tears as he sang the words, when Hongjoong held him close while they listened to the others singing as well, when they chuckled at Mingi’s overenthusiastic ‘Thank you for being on my side,” it all slowly settled in. The happiness wouldn’t stop coming. They never had to let go of each other if they didn’t want to. It would always be the two of them.