Archive of Our Own

“Moondae-hyung,” Cha Eugene murmurs, scratching his chin while looking up thoughtfully. “Isn’t it your anniversary with Lee Sejin-hyung soon?” 

Park Moondae chokes on the water he’s drinking. 

Both of them are left alone in the dorm’s kitchen since everyone else has their own schedules to deal with. As usual, Park Moondae is on food duty, because he’d rather not leave Cha Eugene to his own devices and make burnt toast again. Cha Eugene is a low-maintenance guy, though. He doesn’t wake up until noon when he has the day off, giving Park Moondae more quiet time. But when Cha Eugene is awake, he makes sure that the things that come out of his mouth will make everyone uncomfortable. 

“What,” Park Moondae manages to say, holding back a cough. 

“Hey, there’s no need for you guys to hide it from us anymore. We’re all best friends here,” Cha Eugene nods excitedly, playing with the food on his plate in front of him. He pauses for a brief second, his eyebrows furrowing before choosing the rest of his words in English. “It’s okay to be in love. Congratulations!” 

If Park Moondae didn’t know Cha Eugene any better, he would’ve thought he was making a fun joke. However, given the way Cha Eugene is looking at Park Moondae with the eyes of a supportive parent, like he knows something Park Moondae doesn’t, he can tell that the little shit is completely, utterly, one hundred percent serious. 

“What nonsense are you talking about?” 

Cha Eugene sighs exasperatedly, leaning back on his chair while crossing his arms. He taps the dining table with his finger once, twice, thrice until he jumps up and points right at Park Moondae’s face. “You guys are dating. No one has said anything because we thought you two would be embarrassed about it, but I’ve had enough! I hate this. You can keep it from the fans all you want,” he switches to English, “but TeSTAR is family. We should tell each other everything. How could you?”

There’s something akin to the sound of a string snapping inside of Park Moondae’s head. He’s sure the world is spinning beneath his feet, tilting on its axis. He pinches himself on the thigh to confirm that isn’t a dream. Then, he does it one more time just for safe measure. 

“It’s not our anniversary—wait. We aren’t even dating. Where on earth did you get that idea fr—”

“Ahhh! No, I can’t do this. Come to me when you’re ready to tell the truth. I’m hurt, hyung,” the younger stomps out of the kitchen, pulling his own hair like he’s lost his mind. Then, from far away, he can hear the sound of Cha Eugene dialing Kim Raebin on his phone and complaining, saying “We need to get to the bottom of this, you fool!”

Park Moondae is left in the kitchen all alone, eyes wide open and lips parted. 

Here’s the truth: Park Moondae and Lee Sejin are not dating.

So, what exactly is going on right now? 

—

It’s days later, and Cha Eugene’s voice still taunts Park Moondae in his dreams. 

He’s staring daggers into Lee Sejin from across the music show’s waiting room, trying to come up with some reasonable explanation as to why such words would even come out of Cha Eugene’s mouth. He can’t have rumors spreading, especially among the general public where they’d be chewed out relentlessly. TeSTAR’s currently at their prime, with their fanbase growing more and more each day. If that momentum were to currently cease due to a dating scandal—among groupmates at that—Park Moondae could practically wave goodbye to his career and quite literally die. 

We’re just close friends. There’s nothing weird about that. 

Park Moondae nods inwardly, convinced that he’s just overthinking things and that he shouldn’t be so quick to believe the words of others. It’s fine. 

He’s still scanning Lee Sejin cautiously, even when they make eye contact and Lee Sejin approaches him with his touched-up makeup and a new, all-black outfit. He looks… well put together, to say the least. 

“Admiring how perfect I am, Moondae-Moondae?” 

“Not a chance,” his eyes quickly flicker to Cha Eugene from the couch beside him, who, to no one’s surprise, is already staring at them. His eyebrows are wiggling up and down with a mischievous smirk on his face. Park Moondae feels a headache coming in.

“Hm?” Lee Sejin follows Park Moondae’s line of sight and also looks at Cha Eugene curiously, his head tilted slightly. “What’s wrong?” 

“I think I’m losing my mind,” Park Moondae grumbles under his breath, glancing down at his neatly folded hands in his lap. 

Lee Sejin gapes at him for a while longer with a feeling that Park Moondae can’t exactly pinpoint. Eventually, he ends up shrugging before plopping down on the empty seat next to Park Moondae. Lee Sejin stretches his arms and legs out in a way that invades all of Park Moondae’s personal bubble, and he stays in that position, rubbing against him like a cat. To make matters worse, he rests his head right on Park Moondae’s shoulder, stray strands of hair tickling his neck. 

“What are you doing.” It comes out as more of a demand than a question.

“I’m resting~” 

“Go rest somewhere else.”  

“Anyway, wake me up when it’s our turn to perform,” Lee Sejin ignores him completely and laughs. Park Moondae can feel the other’s breath on his neck. His skin crawls. He’s really, really going crazy. 

He blinks. “You’re annoying.” 

“You love me, Moondae-Moondae.”

“I tolerate you,” he shifts his body carefully and adjusts his arms, making it more comfortable for Lee Sejin to lean on. It seems like the other notices because his arm snakes its way behind Park Moondae’s back. 

And if his heart is beating a little faster than normal, no one would have to know.

(Except for Cha Eugene, who’s still watching them intensely like they’re artifacts in a museum. He might know a thing or two.)

—

Just as Park Moondae finishes getting ready for the night and begins getting comfortable in his bed, there’s a knock on the bedroom door. The knock seems to only be a warning and not a request though, since he doesn’t get a chance to process it before the door swings open, and Lee Sejin barges it with a shit-eating grin on his face, his hands proudly on his hips. 

“Chungwoo-hyung~ Can I steal Moondae from you tonight?” Lee Sejin turns to Ryu Chungwoo who’s sitting on the bed across the room. He has an eyebrow raised but doesn’t look too surprised, as if it’s a common occurrence. Funnily enough, neither of them acknowledge the subject of the conversation, the man of the hour: Park Moondae. 

“As long as you don’t stay up too late, it’s fine. We have a photo shoot in the afternoon tomorrow,” Ryu Chungwoo hums. Maybe Park Moondae is imagining it, but he’s pretty sure there’s an amused look that passes by on his face. 

Park Moondae sits up. “Do I not get a say in this?” 

“C’mon, Moondae-Moondae. I found the perfect scary movie for us to watch!”

“I’d like to go to bed early today.” 

“Oh, is somebody afraid? Making excuses now, are we?” 

This causes a twitch in Park Moondae’s eyes. He hates being challenged, so he falls for the bait immediately. 

“I’m giving you two hours,” he grumbles, removing the blanket from his body and getting up. 

Lee Sejin cheers, reaching out and grabbing him by the wrist. Naturally, their fingers meet and somehow become entwined. His heart does that peculiar, unknown thing where it starts drumming harder. They’re about halfway through the door before Ryu Chungwoo calls out. 

“Have fun, you two. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Moondae,” he smiles. 

Park Moondae tilts his head in confusion. “Tomorrow? I’ll be back later tonight after the movie is over.” 

“Haha, we’ll see,” Ryu Chungwoo stops there and doesn’t elaborate further, simply giving them a wave and a small grin.

The conversation lingers on Park Moondae’s mind until they’re both in Lee Sejin’s single bedroom. He’s always been quite jealous that Lee Sejin had the honor of getting a room all to himself. It’s even more ridiculous that Lee Sejin seems to dislike it. If Park Moondae had been in his position, he would be flying in the clouds every day, thanking every person imaginable. He shrugs off the thought quickly, eyes focused on Lee Sejin fiddling with his laptop and pulling the movie up. 

They both get under the covers of Lee Sejin’s bed while lying on their stomachs. It’s more uncomfortable than it sounds, though, because the bed is only made for one person, so they’re both squishing up against one another. Oddly enough, Park Moondae doesn’t seem to hate it. He usually runs cold while Lee Sejin is something of a living heater, so he finds himself leaning into the touch, gradually, softly, slowly. Lee Sejin lets him. 

Horror movies, unsurprisingly, are not Park Moondae’s cup of tea. Which is why he finds himself trying to casually hide his face behind his hands throughout the entirety of the movie (which doesn't work. Lee Sejin starts laughing at him). The movie is an old one, with expected and unnecessary jump scares here and there, but Park Moondae is reduced to a mere fool when said jump scares do show up, swearing each and every time. Lee Sejin laughs at him for this too, which doesn’t make sense because he screams at every scene. 

By the time the movie is over, Park Moondae feels a growing headache coming in from staring at a bright screen while sitting in the darkness. He wouldn’t be surprised if his eyes were red and veiny. 

Lee Sejin closes the laptop and places it on the nightstand beside his bed, flipping over to sleep on his back. “Wanna have a sleepover?” he chirps excitedly, nudging the other’s shoulder.

It takes Park Moondae a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, but once he does, he can see Lee Sejin looking up at him with expecting eyes. “I’d rather sleep in the comfort of my own bed, thank you.” 

“Please?”

“No.” 

“I’m lonely,” Lee Sejin whines, his hand repeatedly pulling on Park Moondae’s pinky. “Don’t you feel sorry for me?”

Say no. Say no. Say no.

“Fine.”

Fuck.

As soon as the words come out, there’s an instantaneous grab on Park Moondae’s waist, and he’s trapped within Lee Sejin’s arms before he knows it. He smells like lilies and laundry detergent, and he’s so, so warm that Park Moondae cannot find it in him to pull away. Slowly, his body melts into Lee Sejin’s, and he loses feeling in his arms and legs. With his head buried in the crook of Lee Sejin’s neck, he melts, and melts, and melts. He can't help but note how naturally they fit together, and just for a second, everything seems like it's going to be okay. 

“Moondae-Moondae, is it uncomfortable?” Lee Sejin whispers while his chin is resting on top of Park Moondae’s head. He’s rubbing circles on Park Moondae’s back lightly, treating him like a fragile entity that could disappear at any second. 

It’s nice. He feels his eyes growing heavier the more he lets himself unwind, but he wants to bask in the moment for a bit longer. Hesitating, Park Moondae allows himself to wrap his arms around Lee Sejin as well, adjusting his own position in the meantime. 

“No, not really,” his lips brush against Lee Sejin’s neck, and he can feel the way Lee Sejin tenses up with a choked sound before allowing himself to relax again, letting out a hum of acknowledgment in lieu of a response. 

Lee Sejin starts tracing patterns on Park Moondae’s back with his finger. The touch is so delicate, so tender that he can’t feel it unless he solely puts his whole attention on it. He can easily identify the shapes as they’re drawn—squares, circles, hearts, stars, smiley faces—and before he knows it, his eyes are fluttering closed, his breaths slowing down. He thinks he could stay like this forever, with the familiar scent enveloping him.

While he’s caught in between the realm of consciousness and dreams, he’s sure he feels Lee Sejin tracing specific, purposeful words onto his back, the bend and curve of the Hangul undeniable. Lee Sejin repeats and rewrites them so many times along his spine with utmost attentiveness that he’s almost certain it’s all a dream because of how absurd it seems. 

I like you.

I like you.

I like you.

—

It’s not Park Moondae’s first time waking up next to Lee Sejin. 

It’s not his first time, but it’s different than usual. There’s something in the way the air shifts around them, the way the sunlight peaking through the curtains is hitting Lee Sejin’s face, casting a soft, golden glow. It plays across his features, highlighting the gentle curve of his cheek and the flutter of his eyelashes. His eyes trace the lines of Lee Sejin’s face, the way his mouth is slightly open, and the rise and fall of his chest, burning the image into his brain and saving it for later.

And he realizes it immediately. He's probably the only person who gets to see Lee Sejin like this, without the fake smiles, without the idol outfits and microphones and wires attached to his body; he is probably the only person in this world who can see Lee Sejin's face at peace like this, gentle, vulnerable; the only person who knows that he has a mole underneath his chin, the only person who knows the way his breath catches when he dreams, the only person who sees Lee Sejin stripped of his armor, unguarded. 

The atmosphere is much too intimate, with the two of them trapped in a quiet, private moment. With the light of the early morning, the kind that washes over the world with gentleness and tranquility, Park Moondae isn’t aware of how enchanted he is until he almost reaches out to brush away a stray lock of hair that’s sprawled across Lee Sejin’s forehead. He stops, his fingers centimeters away. 

He’s discovered that memories are created when time seems to stand still, suspending the moment in a golden light that lingers long after it’s passed. It embeds itself into a person’s mind like a delicate imprint, etched in the senses. 

This moment, this picture, here, now—Park Moondae knows this will become a memory. He knows he will never, ever forget about it, and he will hold this fragment of time in a corner of his brain for eternity. The pace of his heart quickens at an alarming rate. 

A low groan comes from beside him, and Lee Sejin shifts in his sleep, curling his fingers around Park Moondae’s side and burying his face into his chest, both their legs entangled underneath the covers. Park Moondae holds as still as possible, almost scared that the boy in his arms would suddenly jolt awake and hear the uncoordinated rhythm in his chest—scared that he’d figure out something that’s better left unsaid, unknown; something that Park Moondae has yet to put a name on himself. 

“Kim Raebin, go wake Lee Sejin up,” Bae Sejin calls out from the hallway. Park Moondae freezes. He hopes and prays that the door is locked because there’s no reasonable explanation for whatever’s going on in here. 

“I’m on it!” Kim Raebin sounds like he’s going to the army with how firm his voice is. It’s too early for this. Too early.

Within the next ten seconds, a few things happen. 

First, Kim Raebin, unfortunately, does end up getting inside the room. He opens the door with a swift swing. 

“Hyung! Our manager is on the wa—oh.”

Second, Kim Raebin is standing at the doorway in pure shock with wide eyes and his jaw dropped, which attracts Bae Sejin over. 

“Why are you just standing there, Raebin?” Bae Sejin walks into the room with his eyebrows furrowed. “Oh my god.” 

Third, Lee Sejin does not wake up from the commotion. He doesn’t even stay still. He somehow manages to tighten his grip around Park Moondae, pulling him in impossibly closer, and snuggles his head on his chest. This does absolutely nothing to help their case. 

Before Park Moondae can shove Lee Sejin off or try to explain himself, Bae Sejin has already grabbed Kim Raebin by the back of his collar and pulled him out of the room, shutting the door quite harshly from behind. 

He can hear the two quietly discussing something from beyond the walls, though. “Let’s… keep this between us. Okay, Kim Raebin?” 

“Yes!” 

Park Moondae regrets nothing when he wakes Lee Sejin up with five punches to the stomach. 

—

Snap.

They’ve just finished filming for a music video and are currently taking celebratory pictures with the set. As usual, Park Moondae finds himself being the group’s personal photographer for their social media posts. Not that he minds, though. If anything, he works naturally and finds it particularly enjoyable. 

“Me next, me next!” Cha Eugene hollers, raising a hand in the air.

“We—we should let Moondae have a turn,” Seon Ahyeon states with glittery eyes, reaching out to pat Cha Eugene’s head when he starts frowning. “Who wants to t–take the picture?” 

All eyes immediately fall on Lee Sejin. Park Moondae nearly suffocates on nothing. 

Lee Sejin looks especially confused, his head wobbling to the side. “Hm? Why? I’m not so good at this, everyone~” 

“You know exactly why,” Bae Sejin snorts, his arms crossed. Both of them begin having a staring contest with rather irritated looks on their faces, but no one says anything, too used to their continuous head-butting. 

Oddly enough, all the members seem to be in perfect agreement with Bae Sejin, with looks of understanding passing through all of their faces. Park Moondae can’t help but wonder how bad the rumors of them have gotten within the group, and just hopes it never reaches Lee Sejin’s ears or else he’d get a field day out of it and practically make Park Moondae’s life miserable for eternity and beyond. 

Park Moondae coughs loudly to get everyone’s attention. They turn their heads toward him like a group of lost chicks, curious. 

“I don’t need it.” 

Then, he simply whirls around and paces away, hoping that no one notices how red his ears are getting. 

—

“Moondae-Moondae, do you believe in fate?” 

TeSTAR’s currently in a large tour bus made for an entertainment show. The drive is rather long and tedious though, with them having to go from Seoul to the mountainsides. The plan was for them to have a “healing” show where they could be free from their idol duties and relax, but Park Moondae knows better. After all, no good things came for free in the world. 

The production crew turned all the cameras and mics off, telling them that filming would start back up again once they reached their destination. As a result of this, all the other members besides Park Moondae and Lee Sejin are already fast asleep. Of course, the two of them ended up sitting beside each other, which can’t really be counted as a coincidence since Lee Sejin had been following Park Moondae around even before filming started. 

“More or less.” 

“Is that so~” 

Park Moondae seriously considers it. With the way things have turned out, with the system and the missions, he can’t be sure if fate exists, or if he was meant to live a life like this at all. Fate, he’s learned, has a sadistic sense of humor; cruel and unwelcoming and vicious. Fate is always changing its plans like a tornado in the worst way possible, dragging him in, pulling him up, and hurling him back down. But, if there’s one thing fate has done correctly, it would be allowing him to be surrounded by people who love him. If fate means something—if it means anything—it would be TeSTAR. That is his fate. 

“I guess,” Park Moondae responds after a brief pause, staring out the window and taking note of the myriad of tall pine trees passing by in a blur of green. “I don’t like thinking that everything I’ve ever done is just stuff falling into place like it’s all been predetermined.” 

Lee Sejin stares at him, then leans his head back against the seat’s cushion and smiles. “‘Cause we should be in charge of our own destinies and all that, right?” 

“Right.” 

“Well, Park Moondae,” Lee Sejin closes his eyes and brushes their knuckles together, there feels to be another meaning behind the action, but Park Moondae can’t identify it. “Regardless of fate, I think I was meant to meet you. Even if I’m doubtful about a lot of things in my life, I couldn’t be more sure of you.” 

The words come out of his mouth so matter-of-factly that Park Moondae stops breathing, and he feels like his chest is curling into something of a disgusting, nasty, inexpressible mess. He’s scared to look at Lee Sejin, he’s afraid to know what expression he’s making right now, and suddenly the oxygen is leaving his lungs and the walls are closing in, trapping him in his own brain. 

When he does end up glancing at Lee Sejin out of the corner of his eye, he short circuits and it feels like smoke is leaving his head. 

Lee Sejin is not looking at him but at a random, empty space in the bus. But his face is foreign, unknown, and entirely unforgettable. Park Moondae has come to know every expression, every habit, every face that Lee Sejin could possibly make; but he has never seen the way his lips are slightly parted like now, his cheeks rosy, and his eyes full of honey, oozing out until it practically consumes and drowns Park Moondae. 

He thinks he wants to see every expression that Lee Sejin can ever possibly make, to know everything there is to know about Lee Sejin, to understand the way Lee Sejin’s mind works—and it frightens him.

—

Park Moondae loves being on stage. 

It’s as easy as breathing, as routinely as eating, and he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t mind simply dying on stage. He was born to perform, he thinks, born to be an idol, and born to sing. He could never get tired of it. Even if he has to dance until his limbs stop working and his vocal cords get damaged, he wouldn’t mind as long as he can still stand in front of thousands of lights, all focused on him. 

There is something so lovely about it. There is something so lovely about being able to be surrounded by people who love him and to perform with people who love him, too. He’s sure he would choose this route again and again in every life, even if he had a rocky start in the beginning. 

He takes out his in-ears and listens to the audience singing along to their latest release. It doesn’t get better than this. 

It’s fun, it’s fun, it’s fun. 

With the current choreography formation, Park Moondae is standing on the sidelines as the three main dancers get their own solo parts. Cha Eugene is currently standing in the middle, while Lee Sejin and Seon Ahyeon are to the left and right of him respectively. All three of them have real, genuine smiles on their faces, and that, in turn, makes Park Moondae smile too. 

He thinks he likes it like this. 

After a few seconds, it’s Lee Sejin’s turn to be in the center. His movements are precise yet fluid, each step infused with the utmost care and intensity. He moves with freedom, with happiness, and he gleams so brilliantly that it wouldn’t be a surprise if he attracts every one toward him, like the way a moth follows light. With every step he takes, the stage shrinks around him. 

Lee Sejin is a star. It’s a hard fact that Park Moondae has been aware of ever since they first performed together during their survival show days. 

Lee Sejin is a star. He is not like a star or akin to a star. He does not act like one or feel like one. He is one. He shines so brightly, so effortlessly, that Park Moondae’s eyes naturally go to him when he performs. Like a single star in the center of the universe, Park Moondae is intrinsically attracted to it—attracted to the way it radiates like venom and drags him in. There is something of a gravitational pull acting on his mind, tugging on his heartstrings when he watches Lee Sejin. His presence is a cosmic phenomenon, a singularity, and even though stars are meant to be admired from afar, Park Moondae thinks he wants to hold one, to see if he would incinerate on the spot or be pulled into its orbit. 

Perhaps Park Moondae is too captivated, too entranced at the star, because he practically misses his cue to join the rest of the group on stage again. Unfortunately, they all notice the blunder, especially Lee Sejin, who glances at him for a second longer than normal, with an unreadable emotion making its way over his face. 

That’s when it clicks inside Park Moondae. Like two puzzle pieces finally fitting together, like a clue finally falling into place, it clicks inside of his brain; the noise is loud and unbearable, like it’s ridiculing him and telling him it’s about time! 

Here’s the truth: Park Moondae and Lee Sejin are not dating.

Here’s the truth: Park Moondae wouldn’t mind dating Lee Sejin.

—

When the concert is over, Park Moondae is backstage with the rest of TeSTAR.

They’re all breathing hard, shirts sticking to their bodies because of sweat. No one seems to care, though, because they’re all conversing amongst themselves about the highlights of the concert, their favorite parts, and silly signs and posters the fans had made. No one brings up Park Moondae’s small mishap. He’s not sure if he should be thankful or concerned. 

Surprisingly, Lee Sejin is one of the quieter ones. He’s leaning against a wall while drinking out of a plastic water bottle, taking slow sips. However, his gaze is fixed on Park Moondae, like he’s reading a book he doesn’t understand. It’s not until the group has run out of things to say and has gotten rather quiet that he decides to speak up. 

“You were staring at me, Park Moondae.” 

This causes everyone to completely shut up. Park Moondae freezes on the spot. His hands start feeling clammy, and he wipes them on the sides of his shirt, simultaneously trying to find the right words to say. All the eyes in the vicinity are focused on the two of them, and he’s just grateful there aren’t any staff members nearby. 

Ryu Chungwoo is the first to speak up, and he sounds awkwardly robotic. “Okay, how about we start getting ready to go back to the hotel now?” his eyes quickly shift between Lee Sejin and Park Moondae. “You two can have your conversation first. Meet us in the van.” 

There aren’t any objections, but that’s only because no one else knows what to say in the stifling atmosphere. Seon Ahyeon touches Park Moondae’s shoulder understandingly while nodding, and Cha Eugene whines as Bae Sejin pushes him and Kim Raebin away, mumbling something about a lover’s quarrel. It’s so ridiculous that Park Moondae almost finds himself scoffing. 

They’re finally left alone after the chaos, and suddenly he misses the noise and chattering. He feels like his heart is about to crack and his skin is about to tear because he’s not sure what will come out of this conversation and if he’s exactly ready to admit that he realized he might be in love with his group member, and more significantly, his best friend. 

Lee Sejin is still looking at him, quite intensely, and he feels chills running up and down his spine. “Why were you,” he starts and hesitates, his voice small, “staring at me like that?” 

“I can’t look at you anymore?” Park Moondae begins to get defensive. He isn’t sure why he’s acting like this.

“It’s not about why you were looking at me. It’s how you were looking at me,” he glances down at his feet. Park Moondae has been around him for long enough to know that he’s feeling nervous. “You never look at me like that, Moondae.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like the way I look at you when I think no one’s watching,” Lee Sejin blurts out, and he probably immediately regrets it because he slaps a hand over his mouth in shock. 

The world does not stop. It actually spins even faster, moving so rapidly that Park Moondae is sure he’s bound to fall if he doesn’t hold on tightly enough. He does not know what to say, and he’s sure that if he says something right now he’ll regret it permanently. Park Moondae is not one to choose his words right without sounding too blunt or serious. He opens his fist, clenches it, and repeats the actions about thirty more times. There are waves hitting his brain, and he feels like he’s freezing to death, maybe burning up at the same time. 

“I’m sorry,” is all Lee Sejin says before walking away, his back getting smaller and smaller as it fades down the long, dark hallway. 

Park Moondae doesn’t stop him.

—

Gazing at a star is one thing. 

The star gazing back is another.

—

Things are very, very awkward between them for the next few weeks. The tension is palpable in the air, given the way all the members exchange glances with one another every time Park Moondae and Lee Sejin are within a five-foot radius of each other. It’s fine. Perfectly fine. 

Until it isn’t.

The actual problem starts when their dispute begins affecting their schedules too, and rumors begin spreading online about a battle of silence going on between the two. That, Park Moondae asserts, is something that is absolutely inexcusable. He’s pledged to himself that he would never, ever allow personal matters to affect the group's livelihood. 

TeSTAR’s Park Moondae and TeSTAR’s Lee Sejin are fighting? 

According to fans, ever since TeSTAR’s most recent concert in Japan during their Asia tour took place, Park Moondae and Lee Sejin have been publicly uncomfortable with each other. This comes as a shock since the two are widely known to be especially close…

[Read more]

 

— i hope everything’s okay…

— just give them privacy. it’s none of our business. 

— it seems like a publicity stunt to me? looks like they’re running low on money lol.

ㄴ do you people ever shut up? 

— i guess idols can get pissed too. 

— can we get another comeback already?? useless drama.

“Fuck,” Park Moondae fumes, the grip on his phone tightening so hard that his veins are popping out. He’s about to throw something, preferably the phone in his hand, but he stops because Seon Ahyeon, who’s sitting next to him on the living room sofa, is looking at him with shaking pupils, his hands cautiously in the air. “Sorry,” he quickly adds.

Seon Ahyeon frowns. “Moondae… Are you okay?” 

The silence is suffocating. Seon Ahyeon seems to analyze him for a few seconds, searching for a clue or an answer. There’s a brief look of understanding in his eyes, and then it morphs into compassion, and then he’s back to looking weirdly serious while knitting his brows together, his hands fidgeting. A while later, a hypothetical lightbulb pops up above his head.  

“It might not be my place to say anything right now, but… I think you should talk to Sejin. I think—I think he wants to talk to you too,” he takes a deep breath like he’s about to take a leap of faith and squeezes his eyes shut. “Because the two of you… love each other, am I wr–wrong? And it’s not in the same way as the rest of us.” 

Park Moondae is wholeheartedly convinced that if he were drinking water right now, right at this instance, he would’ve spit it all over Seon Ahyeon’s face on accident. He’s glad the cup on the table in front of him is empty, minus a few cubes of ice stacked on top of each other, and he feels inwardly grateful, nodding to himself.

He leans over a bit and lowers his voice, skimming left and right to make sure no one’s eavesdropping. “Is it obvious?” 

Seon Ahyeon tilts his head. “Well… i–isn’t it only natural? You guys are dating.” 

“We’re not.”

“What?”

“We’re not dating.”

“What?” Seon Ahyeon gasps and covers his mouth with his hands. For some reason, it looks like his world has just been flipped upside down, with him standing in the epicenter of it. He also ends up reducing his voice to a whisper. “Are you being honest r–right now? You can—you can tell me anything, Moondae,” he gives a wary nod, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“We aren’t dating. I promise you,” Park Moondae blinks, dragging his finger across the side of the couch. 

A few more clarification questions and distrustful looks come from Seon Ahyeon for the next five minutes, but he eventually gives it up. Nevertheless, there’s still a suspicious glint in his eyes. Park Moondae is sure he’s putting on a one-man show in his brain with the way he’s continuously scrunching his eyebrows and rubbing his chin. 

“Besides that,” Seon Ahyeon changes the topic, but it’s obvious the previous conversation is still lingering on the tip of his tongue, “you won’t have peace of m–mind until you resolve things with Sejin. Th–then, wouldn’t it be better to talk to him as soon as you can? We’re all worried about you two, and it’s not just because of public opinion…” 

He’s not wrong. Park Moondae knows this already and knows it too well, but his pride is holding him back and he’s feeling rather petty. He bites his lip, deep in thought while his feet are tapping the ground quickly. 

“Okay,” Park Moondae belatedly grumbles, and Seon Ahyeon, for some reason, looks even happier than he does, his eyes getting shinier than before and his cheeks dusted a light pink. 

“S–say… Are the two of you actually dati—”

“No.” 

—

He finds himself pacing back and forth in front of Lee Sejin’s room the following night. 

Bae Sejin catches him in the act while walking out of the bathroom from across the hall, and he raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” 

“Thinking.” 

A snort comes out of Bae Sejin before he’s serious again. “About what? Just… knock on the door.” 

“Right. Knock.”

“Exactly. Knock,” Bae Sejin drags his words out steadily like he’s observing a wild animal. “So… what’s stopping you?” 

“That’s a good question,” Park Moondae mumbles under his breath, and it sounds like he’s saying it to himself rather than using it as a response. Bae Sejin looks at a wall and starts slowly moving his head from side to side like he’s doing hundreds of calculations in his brain. 

Within the next three seconds, the greatest betrayal in Park Moondae’s life occurs. Perhaps he’s being overly dramatic, but he’s certain his destiny somehow changes in that moment. The threads of fate weave their way around each other, cross, split apart, and overwrite each other until everything is set in stone again.

Knock, knock, knock. 

It’s not Park Moondae that knocks on Lee Sejin’s door. 

It’s Bae Sejin. 

Before he even gets a chance to protest or simply crawl into the ground and die, Bae Sejin is already out of his sight, the only proof of his existence being the two words he leaves behind: Good luck.

Seconds pass—hell, maybe even a whole year—before the door opens with a tiny click. 

When Park Moondae’s eyes meet Lee Sejin’s, there isn’t an ounce of surprise in them, as if he had been anticipating this to happen. Lee Sejin smiles, but Park Moondae knows it’s the smile he uses when he’s being cautious and deceitful, because why wouldn’t he know? 

“Oh, it’s Moondae~ Need something?” 

“Let’s talk,” Park Moondae says, firmly. “And no, you don’t get a choice in this. Move,” he pushes his way through Lee Sejin, who’s been leaning against the doorframe, and plops down on the edge of his bed. Lee Sejin doesn’t seem to care—or maybe he’s so shocked that he just allows it all to happen—because he follows Park Moondae obediently and sits beside him, creating about an arm's length of distance between them. 

Lee Sejin’s bedroom is rather dark, with only a small table lamp giving them light. Maybe he had been getting ready to sleep before Park Moondae decided to come barging in. There’s a smell of lavender cascading around them as well, and he figures that it’s probably coming from the small, purple candle that’s set on the nightstand. Park Moondae notices how the curtains are closed, and that’s when he thinks he likes it when it’s night since it acts like a shield, concealing the gymnastics that his facial expressions are currently cartwheeling through. 

Surprisingly, it’s Lee Sejin who opens his mouth first. 

“I know what you’re here to say,” he shifts on the bed, folding his hands and placing them on his lap. “First… I’m sorry for acting like that at the concert. I think I was just a little shocked,” he takes a breath, “because I got the feeling that you… liked me or something.”

Park Moondae stays silent, his lips sealed shut. His heart starts speeding up, getting louder and louder until it’s so loud that he’s worried it’ll echo throughout the whole room. Lee Sejin continues speaking without giving him time to think. 

“I don’t expect an answer, but I think you should know,” he pauses, looking away from Park Moondae and at a random plushie on the bed. “I like you.”

Oh, what the hell. 

“I know,” Park Moondae responds a little too quickly, much faster than he’d like to, and he feels relatively dumbfounded. He’s far beyond words at this point. Lee Sejin never fails to surprise him whenever he’s being blunt because he’s always hiding behind his two-faced mask, so when truthful words come out of his mouth so quickly, so eagerly, it feels like the earth is being flipped upside down. 

“Okay. Was it obvious?” 

“A little. I don’t know.”

“Okay. Do you hate me for it?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Okay,” Lee Sejin says for the third time, but this time he lets his shoulders relax, leaning his head back with his gaze fixed on the ceiling. 

There’s another long bout of silence, and Lee Sejin doesn’t try to pry or get a response from Park Moondae. Instead, he closes his eyes, as if savoring the moment, allowing the silence to stretch and fill the space between them. He seems content, with a softer expression now, almost peaceful. The world around them gets quieter, and time seems to slow down within the small, dark bedroom. 

Park Moondae finds himself changing the topic after carefully considering all the possible outcomes in his brain. “Everyone thinks we’re dating,” his voice is barely above a whisper, gazing at Lee Sejin’s eyelashes. Have they always been that long? 

“Is that so bad?” 

“Hm?”

“The idea of us dating, I mean,” Lee Sejin coughs, turning away quickly. The back of his neck is painted a rosy red. 

Park Moondae’s heart lurches. “Not particularly.” 

If Lee Sejin were to have dog ears, they’d be sticking straight up right now. There’s a glint of hopefulness in his eyes with a tinge of doubt. Maybe it’s the fact that his hair is messy, falling all over his face; and the sweater he’s wearing is much too big for him, but he looks rather cute. Park Moondae almost reaches out to touch his face and trace his thumb under his eyes, memorizing the way they feel under his touch; he almost wants to give him the universe and the galaxy, but how could that be when he’s already a star? His breath hitches in his throat before he gets the chance to act on those thoughts—because Lee Sejin is gazing at him with soft eyes and a sweet smile, and all his emotions are swirling around him and crashing into him like tides, lava traveling inside his veins. 

“Can I take this as a confession? Did you just profess your undying love for me?” Lee Sejin scoots nearer until their arms are touching, a playful glimmer in his eyes. 

Park Moondae looks at the floor. He feels the corners of his mouth twitching up. “Think what you will.”

Lee Sejin sits up straight at that, greedy. “Then, can I kiss you?” he looks nervous, inching closer and brushing their hands together, asking for permission. It’s a familiar action—a familiar touch—yet it couldn’t be more foreign. There is hesitation behind the touch, but there’s also curiosity, and there’s also something that Park Moondae might even call tenderness. He’s been doused in flammable liquid, his heart set on fire. 

“I guess,” he mumbles awkwardly, and he feels blood rushing to his head. This has got to be the most embarrassing day of his life. “If you want to.” 

Lee Sejin furrows his eyebrows, looking strangely earnest. “Park Moondae, I have never wanted anything more in my life,” he jokes (or maybe he’s serious, Park Moondae can’t tell) like he’s just heard the most ridiculous thing. 

This is what Park Moondae wants to say: I really, really like you. Hell, I think I’m actually in love with you.

This is what he says instead: “You’re an idiot.” 

Lee Sejin simply tilts his head to the side and lets out a soft laugh, his eyes turning into crescents. Perhaps he already knows what Park Moondae is trying to say, like he always does. 

Park Moondae feels the way Lee Sejin’s fingers are gently tracing his knuckles, drawing unidentifiable patterns and etching them into his soul, and it suddenly feels like he’s submerged underwater, unable to hear or think or breathe because he can’t think about anything besides the fact that Lee Sejin is inches away from his face, and if he just leans in a hair closer they’d be kissing. His brain is hazy and disconnected from reality, and he’s not sure what exactly it is that he wants right now besides Lee Sejin. He wants, he wants, and he wants. 

A gasp leaves his mouth when Lee Sejin’s fingers make their way up his hand and find his wrist, giving a harsh tug and closing the gap between them. He feels Lee Sejin’s eyelashes on his cheeks before his lips. Park Moondae can’t help but smile a little—because it tickles, and his heart feels so full, and because, wow , who knew he’d be kissing Lee Sejin today—and before he knows it, there’s a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him in closer, closer, closer; so close that he’s sure they’ve exceeded some kind of limit, like the way a galaxy starts as a single, luminous point, and then it pulls in everything within its grasp using gravitational force, and the stars will learn to know each other for eternity. Slowly, unsurely, unsteadily, his fingertips reach up, gliding against Lee Sejin’s jaw before cupping his cheeks, their noses bumping against each other. 

Theoretically, it is impossible to touch a star, to hold one, to kiss one; it is as impossible as capturing a planet in a jar, as dancing atop the sun, as riding the tail of a comet through space. Yet here Park Moondae is, doing just that. He is undeniably, pitifully, irrevocably in love with a star. 

He thinks he could get used to this. Because he will look up at the star, and it will be in the same place as it was yesterday and the day before that. It will be there tomorrow as well, waiting for him. Amidst the one billion trillion observable stars in the universe, the star that shines the brightest will find him, and he will find it, too. 

Carefully, Lee Sejin pulls away for a second, treating Park Moondae like he’s the center of his life, like he’s the only thing that matters, like he’s the only person he sees. Yet again, like all the other countless times, Park Moondae feels so much adoration bubbling up in the pit of his stomach that he feels like he’s drowning deeper than before. 

He does not say I love you . Instead, the words are translated into his strange, alien language and come out before his brain gets a chance to proofread them, like a dam is broken, like the world has just collapsed. “You’re a star,” Park Moondae drawls, and he feels his body freezing and growing warmer in embarrassment because he’s sure he’d get teased about this for the rest of his life. 

He gets a smile in return. Lee Sejin throws his head back and starts laughing, looking unexplainably giddy. “Then you must be the moon, no?” he articulates his words slowly, strongly, eagerly, like he wants them to be drilled into the crevices of Park Moondae’s brain so that they are an unmistakable, undeniable truth. He does not elaborate on the thought, but Park Moondae is sure he knows exactly what it implies, and he feels his body liquefying into goo again. 

Park Moondae kisses the star again. His star. He can feel Lee Sejin’s smile on his, and they both have no idea what they’re doing, teeth clanging against one another’s. 

Eventually, Park Moondae shoves Lee Sejin away, trying to catch his breath. He glances up at Lee Sejin’s narrowed eyes, then down at his lips, then back up at his eyes. His cheeks are definitely flushed red, but he’s too focused on the sound of his heart hammering erratically, sending shockwaves throughout his whole body. “If the press finds out about this, I am going to break up with y—”

“Yeah, yeah. You can kill me too, if that’s what you want,” Lee Sejin giggles, leaning back in for the umpteenth to shut Park Moondae up. He sighs contently into his mouth, like he’s just won a war. 

—

By the time they’re out of Lee Sejin’s room the next morning, there’s a sound of shuffling in the living room as well as whispering. 

“Hmm, it seems like they’re up to something again~” Lee Sejin grins, his hand reaching out to smoothen Park Moondae’s tangled hair. 

Park Moondae finds himself leaning into the touch before slapping the hand away. Not here. Not now. He has a reputation to uphold. “Stop that,” he whispers, pulling Lee Sejin by the hem of his shirt toward the source of the sound. 

While cautiously taking steps toward the living room and poking his head out from the hall, he sees it. 

There are about ten balloons floating astray from every direction, and there appears to be a large, two-layer cake sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. All the members are chattering amongst themselves, but he can tell Cha Eugene is the main orchestrator given the way he’s standing in front of them with his hands on his hips, commanding them. Seon Ahyeon notices the two of them first, and he alerts Cha Eugene. The red blob of hair runs toward them at an alarming pace. 

Before Park Moondae can even react, there’s a deafening pop! sound, and then confetti is flying everywhere in his face. A few pieces get caught on his eyelashes, the sparkly golds and silvers blinding his vision momentarily. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Park Moondae blurts out in pure horror, his eyes fixed on the confetti cannon in Cha Eugene’s hand. He thinks he’s going to lose his mind. He hears Lee Sejin cackling from beside him, shaking the stray pieces of confetti out of his hair. 

“Happy anniversary and congratulations on making up, Moondae-hyung and Sejin-hyung!” Cha Eugene sings, putting cone-shaped party hats on both of their heads. Upon closer inspection, it looks like all of the other members are wearing them too, albeit against their will. 

Lee Sejin looks rather amused. “Anniversary?” 

Cha Eugene beams. “Yes! You guys have been dating for a year now, right? Am I right?! This calls for a celebration, of course,” he quickly pushes the both of them toward the cake. It’s a heart-shaped, plain white cake with heaps of tiny red and pink hearts splotched everywhere in a pattern-like manner. “I planned this whole thing out, as you can see. It’s perfect!” 

Park Moondae feels the spirit leaving his body. “I told you already, Eugene, it’s not our ann—” 

“Wow! How’d you know?” Lee Sejin inquires, grabbing both of Cha Eugene’s hands excitedly. Now, both of them are jumping up and down like idiots. 

No one’s listening to him. 

Ryu Chungwoo hesitantly approaches Park Moondae, patting his shoulder. “I’m sorry for this, Moondae. He took matters into his own hands. We tried to stop him,” he scratches the back of his head, looking apologetic. 

“No. It’s okay,” Park Moondae sighs while rubbing his temples, watching the two fools cheering triumphantly. He’s not even sure what they’re so happy for. 

Kim Raebin, who has been standing nearby and assessing the situation, quickly whips his head around. “Wait, so it’s not your anniversary?”

Park Moondae suppresses the urge to burn the dorm down.