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When Youngjae wakes, all is well with the world, but it takes him several moments to realise why.
Then he processes the weight of a small body pressed against his, and the warmth of soft skin beneath his touch, and he remembers.
Hanjin
.
Youngjae’s heart swells as he recalls the way Hanjin comforted him last night, softly and without judgement. Gentle in all of the ways he needed most. He can’t resist the urge to snuggle in closer, burying his face in Hanjin’s neck and trying not to blush when his lips momentarily brush over the younger boy’s pulse point.
At some point during the night, Youngjae’s hands have slipped underneath Hanjin’s shirt and travelled more than halfway up his back. He can feel the sharp ridge of Hanjin’s spine, and makes a note to pay more attention to how much the younger boy is eating, because he’s sure it’s not enough.
He wants to take care of Hanjin,
always
, but now that Youngjae knows what it feels like to be cared for in return, the urge has increased tenfold. He wants to make Hanjin feel just as safe under his watch as Youngjae feels under Hanjin’s. He wants to keep Hanjin happy and healthy, because his smile gives him butterflies, and as long as Youngjae has anything to say about it, he’ll never let it disappear.
That thought has only just entered Youngjae’s mind when Hanjin stirs beside him. Both boys look up, and when their eyes meet, it’s like time stands still. For an indeterminate length of time, no words are spoken, but so much is said nonetheless.
Youngjae reaches up and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind Hanjin’s ear, then revels in the way the younger boy’s cheeks are immediately coloured by a subtle pink flush. Hanjin retaliates by letting his hand hover over Youngjae’s face, hesitating before finally making contact and ever-so-gently tracing the dark circles under the older boy’s eyes with his fingertips. Youngjae watches contentedly as Hanjin slowly blinks awake, gradually divesting himself of the last vestiges of sleep.
He looks so pretty like this
.
The thought comes to Youngjae unbidden, but it’s not like he can argue against it. Hanjin is always pretty (like, just
objectively
), with his big, bright eyes and delicate features resembling those of a porcelain doll so closely that Youngjae is sometimes afraid he might break him if he’s not careful. But the way Hanjin looks right now, with his bed-ruffled hair and sleepy smile, is enough to take Youngjae’s breath away entirely.
He says none of this to the boy in question. It would only make things awkward, and honestly, Youngjae can’t think of any way to phrase it that wouldn’t feel intensely uncomfortable on Hanjin’s end, so he lets it go. It’s enough to simply observe Hanjin’s beauty in silence, without feeling the need to comment on it.
“Good morning, hyung,” Hanjin murmurs eventually. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Youngjae answers honestly. “Thank you. For last night, I mean. You didn’t have to do all that, but it really helped.”
Hanjin nods minutely.
“I’m glad. But, please, come to me sooner next time? I hate seeing you cry, hyung. I really,
really
hate it.”
Youngjae’s face must fall, because in the next moment Hanjin is rushing to correct himself.
“That doesn’t mean you
shouldn’t
cry! Or that you should feel bad about it! It’s good to express your emotions like that, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to bottle things up for my sake, I just meant I really hate seeing you in pain, and I wish I could just—”
“Hanjin-ah,” Youngjae interrupts. “It’s alright, aegi.”
The younger boy’s mouth clamps shut, but the guilty expression remains. Youngjae decides to switch tracks.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” Hanjin replies, averting his eyes. “Better than I have in a while.”
Youngjae frowns.
“Are you still having trouble sleeping?”
“I guess,” Hanjin says with a shrug. “I’ve missed you.”
Youngjae willfully refrains from pointing out the fact that it was
Hanjin
who put this distance between them, not him, and chooses to close that distance instead.
“Well, I’m here now. And I missed you, too. You know I’ll never say no when you need me, right? I’ll always be here for you, Jinie.”
“I know. I just… don’t want to be a burden, y’know?”
“I do know. For the record, though, you’re
not
. A burden, I mean. You’re the one who helped
me
last night, remember?”
Hanjin still looks unconvinced, so Youngjae tilts the younger boy’s head up with two fingers under his chin, making him meet his eyes.
“Jin-ah, listen to me. I’m being serious—if there’s
any
way I can help you, with
anything
, I’ll do it. All you have to do is ask.”
“But what if I ask for too much?” Hanjin whispers, his voice small and wavering. “What if I ask for something you can’t give, and you get hurt trying to take care of me?”
Hanjin’s wide eyes betray the true depths of his anxiety, and Youngjae wishes, not for the first time, that he could make all of his dongsaeng’s worries disappear in a puff of smoke.
Instead, he simply shakes his head.
“That’s impossible,” Youngjae says. “It will never be too much. Not if it’s you.”
Hanjin’s skin burns under Youngjae’s touch as the younger boy’s cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink the elder has ever seen.
“
Hyung
,” Hanjin whines, hiding his face in his hands. “You can’t just
say
that kind of thing, oh my
god
.”
“Why not?” Youngjae asks. He gently pulls Hanjin’s hands away from his face to reveal the younger boy’s pouting expression, then presses their palms together and interlaces their fingers. “It’s true.”
“It’s embarrassing! What am I supposed to say to that?”
“You don’t have to say anything. You can just stay here with me, and that’ll be enough, okay?”
Hanjin nods, expression still doubtful but also seemingly relieved.
Youngjae continues holding Hanjin’s right hand, but releases the left, freeing up an arm to once again encircle the younger boy’s waist. Hanjin uses his free hand to cradle Youngjae’s cheek, running his thumb over sallow skin. Youngjae knows he must look physically terrible, courtesy of his chronic sleep deprivation and current lack of makeup to hide it, but Hanjin doesn’t seem to mind.
Hanjin curls in closer to Youngjae, and they stay like that for a long while, gazes locked as they lie together in comfortable silence, broken only by their own steady breathing. Their breathing rhythms have synced up perfectly, and Youngjae wouldn’t be surprised if their heartbeats have, too.
As long as they remain here, in this sacred space they’ve created, delineated by the edges of Hanjin’s bed and their own bodies, the world can’t touch them. For a time, Youngjae can pretend that Hanjin and himself are all there is, safe inside their own little bubble universe, surrounded by a storm of chaos. Hanjin is Youngjae’s eye of calm in that storm; it’s only when he’s in the younger boy’s arms that Youngjae truly believes everything will be alright.
But nothing good ever lasts forever, and their brief period of shared peace ends far, far too soon, with a sharp knock on the door.
Youngjae rolls over reluctantly, without disentangling his limbs from Hanjin’s, and is greeted by the head of one Han Jihoon poking into the room from the hallway beyond.
“
Yah
, you two, it’s time to get up,” Jihoon announces, with detectable irritation in his tone. “We’re going to be late if you don’t hurry.”
Then Jihoon’s face twists into a mischievous smirk, and Youngjae knows it can mean nothing good.
“Hyung, this isn’t even your room—get a move on, will you?”
Before Youngjae can respond, Jihoon moves on to his next target.
“And Hanjin-ah, stop checking hyung out for two seconds and get dressed. Breakfast is first-come first-served, and there won’t be anything left if you take too long.”
“I—I wasn’t—” Hanjin splutters, turning even redder than before and propping himself up on one elbow so that he can meet the other boy’s eyes. “I’m not ‘checking out’
anyone
, Jihoon-ah!”
Jihoon laughs, clearly delighted by the other boy’s overly defensive reaction.
“
Relax
, Hanjinie. It’s just a joke.”
“Well, it’s not funny.”
Jihoon’s expression shifts, looking genuinely contrite for a moment.
“I know. I’m sorry, Hanjin-ah.”
Hanjin looks ready to grudgingly accept Jihoon’s apology when the smirk reappears.
“That said, if you really want to come off platonic, you should probably stop
literally
dragging hyung to bed,” Jihoon points out with a teasing wink. “People might get the wrong idea.”
Hanjin pushes himself fully upright in bed, seething.
“Oh, you
obnoxious
little—!”
Hanjin grabs a pillow and hurls it at the other boy, but Jihoon has already disappeared behind the door, which clicks shut after him. Youngjae can hear his laughter receding down the hall. The pillow drops to the floor, and the room is once again empty save for an irate Hanjin and a very confused Youngjae looking up at him.
Once he’s calmed down at least a little, Hanjin looks down, realising at the same time Youngjae does that their hands are still locked together. Sensing the younger boy’s discomfort, Youngjae retracts his hand and pulls away, putting some space between his and Hanjin’s bodies, so that he too is sitting upright, on the far corner of the bed.
Hanjin barely reacts, staring at his now-empty hand with an inscrutable expression.
“Jin-ah? Is everything alright?” Youngjae asks.
“Hm?” Hanjin hums, still not looking at Youngjae. “Oh. Yes, hyung. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Youngjae pushes further, concern bleeding into his tone.
Hanjin looks up and smiles, but it’s like he’s gazing
through
the older boy rather than
at
him.
“I’m sure. Don’t worry about me.”
“I always worry,” Youngjae replies truthfully. “I can’t help it.”
“I know. But there’s really no need.”
Youngjae nods, and realises only after a few moments of awkward silence that Hanjin is waiting for him to leave. The older boy can’t say he isn’t a little bit hurt by that, but it’s not Hanjin’s fault—it’s Youngjae’s, for expecting such a rare, precious moment between them to last forever, when such things can only exist as fleeting touches and gentle words murmured in the first light of dawn. The connection between them has always been transient in some sense, and Youngjae has only himself to blame for forgetting that fact.
Still recovering from that realisation, Youngjae pushes himself up and off the bed, then turns to give Hanjin an awkward wave.
“I’ll see you at breakfast, then?”
“Yeah. See you soon, hyung.”
Seeing his cue, Youngjae turns to leave, and makes it all the way to the door before he’s stopped.
“Hyung, wait.”
Youngjae’s hand freezes on the doorknob, and he looks back at the younger boy over his shoulder. Hanjin bites his lip uncertainly, a conflicted expression on his face.
“Yeah, Jinie?”
“You… you know I’ll always be here for
you
, too, right? You take such good care of me, and I want to do that for you. So if you’re having trouble sleeping, or anything like that, you never need to be afraid of asking me for help. It’ll make
me
feel better, knowing you’re okay—does that make any sense?”
Youngjae’s insides flood with warmth once again. Hanjin’s voice is so completely sincere, even with the undercurrent of nervousness running through it, that he can’t help but smile.
“It makes perfect sense,” he reassures the younger boy. “I’ll remember that.”
Hanjin beams, and it’s just about the cutest thing Youngjae has ever seen.
“Thank you, hyung.”
Youngjae laughs under his breath.
“What for? I haven’t done anything.”
“Yes, you have.” Hanjin doesn’t elaborate on that thought before he cocks his head to the side, and says: “We should get ready.”
“Oh. Right,” Youngjae says. “Going now. Sorry.”
Hanjin sends him off with a smile, and Youngjae shuts the door behind him. He sighs heavily, slumping against the opposite wall and doing his best to silence the whirl of butterflies in his stomach.
Maybe all of this is actually some colossal mistake, but Youngjae doesn’t care. He’ll gladly ruin himself if it means being so close to Hanjin, even if it’s only after sundown.
If this is all a dream
, Youngjae thinks,
I’m not sure I want to wake up
.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Cold. Dark. Airless.
Hanjin knows this place all too well. He’s been here what feels like a thousand times, yet somehow it never gets easier.
The icy water drags him down, and Hanjin knows that it’s useless to fight against it, but he can’t just give up. He can’t just die like this, knowing that there’s an entire world up there that will keep on turning without him. He has so much left to do, so much to say. So many people he can’t bear to leave behind.
He resists the urge to scream, knowing he’d be wasting what precious little air he has left. He has thirty seconds, tops, remaining, and he plans to use every one of them fighting to re-enter that world. Fighting to not be forgotten, secreted away at the bottom of the ocean. He has to try. He has to.
But it’s no use. The surface remains impossibly far away, moving further and further out of his reach, and it takes his last hopes of survival with it.
The thirty seconds are up. He has nothing left, and no one. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise—maybe it’s better if he’s never found, because then the people he leaves behind will still have hope. Or maybe he’s flattering himself by thinking anyone would miss him in the first place.
Hanjin doesn’t care anymore. He can’t. He’s just so, so
tired
, and staying awake any longer has become an impossible task.
Finally, Hanjin’s eyes slip closed, and the silence swallows him whole. It’s a sensation terrifyingly, blessedly similar to falling asleep.
Until a strong hand latches onto his wrist, and wrenches him into the light.
Hanjin gasps violently, his entire system shocked by his abrupt emergence from the water, and is suddenly blinded by the harsh sunlight of the world above the surface. He doesn’t register who exactly has just saved him, too occupied with desperately refilling his lungs with air to investigate or even care. He dimly notices that he’s still being pulled along through the water, until he’s being dragged onto hot, coarse sand that sticks to his skin and gets into his mouth somehow, prompting him to choke on the air itself.
His coughing fit persists for several minutes, and when it finally ends he collapses flat onto his back. Everything hurts, and his head still reels with vertigo, but Hanjin doesn’t care, because he’s
alive
. Somehow, against all logic and probability, he survived.
His eyes search desperately for the person responsible for his impossible salvation, but he doesn’t need to look long before his gaze lands on a familiar face, staring down at him with a panicked expression.
Youngjae hyung?
There’s no mistaking it—it’s
Youngjae
leant over Hanjin on the shore, with dripping hair and eyes full of pure terror. He’s shaking, presumably from the adrenaline crash he’s doubtlessly experiencing. Yet even with how much distress he’s in, Youngjae still focuses all of his attention on the boy in front of him.
“Hanjinie?” he asks. His voice trembles almost as much as his hand, reaching out to gently cradle Hanjin’s cheek.
Hanjin’s own throat burns from contact with saltwater, but he still finds it within himself to croak out:
“
Hyung
.”
Before Hanjin can even blink, Youngjae has surged down to meet him, wrapping his arms around the younger boy and clutching him close to his chest, albeit cautiously, clearly afraid of accidentally hurting him.
“Thank god,” Youngjae whispers brokenly. “You’re okay. You’re actually okay.”
Youngjae pulls away, holding himself up on his hands as he hovers over the younger boy. He’s now far enough away to meet Hanjin’s eyes—his own brimming with tears—and says in a single pained breath:
“I thought I’d lost you.”
He says it like the end of the world has just been averted, rather than a single person’s death; like Hanjin
is
his world, and the thought of going on without him is far too devastating to bear. Like he’d be utterly lost without Hanjin, in the same way that Hanjin would’ve been—and almost
was
—lost if it weren’t for him.
He may have narrowly escaped literally drowning just a few minutes prior, but that doesn’t stop Hanjin from grabbing Youngjae’s shoulders and pulling him down into a tight hug that knocks the breath out of both boys simultaneously. They’re both drenched, their clothing soaked through and skin coated in wet sand, and shivering violently from the combined effects of the freezing water and the unbearable heat of the sun, but none of that matters. All that matters is that they’re alive, and they’re
together
, and Hanjin is never going to let the world take him away from Youngjae again.
Never
.
Hanjin holds onto the older boy like his life depends on it; he’s not sure if he’s crying or just going into shock. Youngjae responds in kind, squeezing Hanjin so tightly it’s sure to leave bruises. All caution has been thrown to the wind, replaced with overwhelming, unbelievable relief.
Both boys laugh, despite it all, incredulous. Youngjae’s eyes are shining as they look straight into Hanjin’s, betraying a depth of emotion that completely defies the younger boy’s comprehension.
Somehow, they’ve shifted so that their mouths are only inches apart. Hanjin catches Youngjae’s gaze flickering down to his lips, for just a moment, and his heart trips over itself in his chest.
Youngjae’s hands tangle in Hanjin’s wet hair, and then he’s leaning in closer, slowly, giving the younger boy ample time to push him away if he chooses to. Hanjin doesn’t, though, because he
wants
this. He wants anything Youngjae is willing to give him, and he’s prepared to give up all of himself in return, if Youngjae asks.
Their lips are only a heartbeat away from meeting, and Hanjin’s head spins. Everything about this moment feels so impossible, and wonderful, and so, so
right
, and—
And then it’s over.
Hanjin gasps for breath again, but there’s no ocean to fight against. He’s met with the same taste of salt, except it’s not seawater on his tongue this time, but tears.
Fuck
.
He’s been having the same dream almost every night these past few weeks, but it never hurts any less when he wakes up. He’ll be underwater again, but instead of drowning, he’ll be miraculously saved. It’s always the same person pulling him from the depths, and Hanjin realises with a jolt of panic that that exact person is currently sleeping peacefully beside him, arms curled loosely around his waist.
Youngjae.
It’s always Youngjae. It always has been, and Hanjin is horribly afraid that it always will be.
He pushed the older boy away, before, as soon as he realised what that fluttering feeling in his heart every time they were together meant. But now Youngjae is
right there
, close enough for Hanjin to feel his warm breath ghosting over his neck, and it’s simply too much for him to handle.
Hanjin presses a hand to his mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound of his ragged, difficult breathing. Unfortunately, the only thing that action accomplishes is to jostle Youngjae just enough to have the older boy blinking awake a moment later, brow furrowing as he becomes more aware of the world around him.
“Jin-ah? Are you okay?”
Hanjin wants to lie, and to assure his hyung that nothing at all is the matter; but when he uncovers and subsequently opens his mouth to do just that, all that comes out is a small, choked noise somewhere between a whimper and a sob. His face heats up with shame, even as the tears continue to fall.
“Oh, jagiya,” Youngjae murmurs, without missing a beat. “Come here.”
He guides Hanjin’s head to rest against his chest, and threads his fingers through the younger boy’s hair. The sensation gives Hanjin so much déjà vu that he worries he might legitimately be sick.
“
Hyungie
,” Hanjin whines, sounding absolutely pathetic even to his own ears. “Hyung, I—I don’t…”
Hanjin can’t finish that sentence, dissolving into a tearful, sobbing mess before he gets the chance. Youngjae lets him cry, waiting patiently and gently petting Hanjin’s hair to help bring him back down to earth.
“I’m here, jagi. You’re safe. Nothing can hurt you here.”
Hanjin wants to find that statement comforting, but in reality it just makes his heartache even worse. Being reassured of his hyung’s proximity only reminds Hanjin that Youngjae is so, so close, yet forever beyond his reach regardless.
I love you, hyung
, he wants to say.
I’ve always loved you, and I think it might kill me
.
But Hanjin can’t say that, because he knows Youngjae will never say it back.
Why would he ever love
you
? You don’t
really
think you’re good enough for him, do you? You’re not smart, like he is. You’re not charismatic, either, or funny, and you’re certainly not talented. Hell, you’re not even that pretty, even though your visuals are the only reason they let you debut in the first place.
You’re
not
good enough. You never have been, and you never will be. Youngjae knows that—he’s just too kind to say it.
Hanjin’s thoughts continue to spiral, dragging him into a dark pit of self-doubt and insecurity from which he has never managed to escape alone. They scream at him inside his head, until all he can hear is the endless litany of reasons he doesn’t deserve any of this—his position as an idol, his fans’ admiration, Youngjae’s kindness. He hasn’t
earned
any of it.
Youngjae silences those thoughts with a soft, chaste kiss pressed to Hanjin’s forehead, heartbreakingly gentle in the precise way Hanjin won’t allow himself to want.
“You’re overthinking, Jinie. Just focus on breathing, and it’ll be alright. You can get through this.”
Hanjin can only nod, and burrow even further into his hyung’s chest. Youngjae is warm, and comfortingly solid; Hanjin thinks he could survive just about anything, if he had his hyung with him.
And the thing is, Hanjin has never wanted anyone’s protection, no matter how much they try to baby him; it makes him feel useless, and like a burden. But Youngjae is different (Youngjae is
always
different for Hanjin, but that’s another problem entirely). Hanjin doesn’t mind when Youngjae is the one caring for him, because Youngjae
always
treats him like an equal, even when he’s an absolute mess.
Youngjae knows Hanjin is more than capable, but he also knows when and how to provide reassurance when the younger boy finds himself floundering. He’s a strong shoulder to lean on, never making Hanjin feel weak for needing help, but he still makes sure that he feels strong enough to stand on his own two feet when all is said and done, every single time.
That said, if Hanjin could change exactly one thing about Youngjae, he’d convince him to stop seeing that help as a one-way street. They got a step closer yesterday night, and the memory still makes the younger boy feel warm inside. Hanjin feels
special
, in the pulse-quickening, butterflies-inducing sense of the word, knowing that Youngjae is willing to be so vulnerable in front of him, in a way he isn’t (as far as Hanjin knows) with anyone else.
He
likes
being able to take care of Youngjae, especially with the older boy constantly working himself to death taking care of everyone else. When Youngjae finally let down his defences and simply asked to be held, Hanjin felt
valued
in a way he didn’t even know he
could
feel, before he met the older boy.
That’s what falling in love feels like for Hanjin—Youngjae showing him new and beautiful facets of existence, expanding his universe, but always keeping him grounded at the same time. Hanjin tries his best to return the favour, but really, how do you pay off that kind of debt? How can Hanjin ever hope to change Youngjae’s life just as monumentally as Youngjae has changed his?
Hanjin doesn’t know, but that’s a dilemma for another time regardless. Right now, he just has to do as he’s told. So he focuses all of his attention on the warmth radiating from Youngjae’s body, and the sound of his slow, even breathing, in the hopes that it’ll convince his heart to slow down, too.
Eventually, Hanjin’s breathing settles and the all-consuming panic is replaced by even more overwhelming exhaustion. But he can’t fall asleep yet, because his hyung is still wrapped around him, and Hanjin knows he can’t just leave things here without saying
something
.
“I thought you weren’t having nightmares anymore,” Youngjae says, when he’s sure Hanjin has recovered. It’s not accusatory in the least, only concerned, but Hanjin still feels guilty.
“I’m sorry, hyung.”
“You
really
need to stop saying that.”
“I’m sor—”
Youngjae shoots him a look, and Hanjin winces.
“Right. No apologising for apologising, either.”
“That’s right,” Youngjae replies. “When did they come back?”
“They never left,” Hanjin admits, after a moment’s hesitation. A frown appears on Youngjae’s face, and Hanjin
hates
that he’s the one who put it there. “I know I should’ve told you. I didn’t want you to worry.”
“But why did you stop coming to me? I could’ve helped. I thought I
was
helping, before.”
“You were!” Hanjin swallows nervously, surprised by the sudden urgency in his own words. “You were, hyung. It wasn’t anything about you. It was my own issue, and I’m sorry you got hurt by it, too.”
“What kind of issue?”
“It really doesn’t matter. I can handle it,” Hanjin lies.
“No, Jinie.” Youngjae gently holds either side of Hanjin’s face and guides it upward, making the younger boy look at him. “If it’s hurting you, it
matters
.”
Hanjin inhales sharply. The way Youngjae is looking at him right now reminds him far too much of the
other
Youngjae—the one who only exists in his dreams, and loves him back. It hurts to remember, so Hanjin pushes it down, tries to ignore the pain.
It doesn’t work.
“This issue,” Youngjae continues. “It’s more than just the nightmares, isn’t it?”
Hanjin feels the colour drain from his face. He still nods, though, because he can’t bring himself to lie to Youngjae outright. Not right now.
“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong if you don’t want to,” Youngjae continues, watching Hanjin’s expression change. “You don’t owe me an explanation. But I promise, you
can
tell me anything, with no fear of judgement. No matter what, it won’t change the way I see you.”
You don’t know that
, Hanjin thinks.
You cannot
possibly
know that this won’t change
everything
between us.
“I know,” Hanjin whispers. “But, hyung, I just… I
can’t
. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Youngjae reassures, even though his voice sounds noticeably sadder than it did the moment before. “I understand. I still want to help you, though. Just tell me what you need.”
“
You
,” Hanjin blurts out before he can stop himself. Youngjae raises his eyebrows in surprise, and Hanjin blushes redder than his native country’s flag as he rushes to cover his mistake.
“I didn’t mean—That’s not—” He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “What I
meant
is I want you to stay with me. Just until I fall asleep.”
Youngjae doesn’t answer for a few seconds, and Hanjin is afraid he’s
really
fucked up this time.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, obviously. I know you’ve already done so much to me, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do even more just because I had a nightmare, which I
should
be able to handle myself, but—”
“Hanjin-ah,” Youngjae interrupts. “It’s okay—I
want
to stay.”
Hanjin blinks.
“You do?”
“Of course I do,” Youngjae answers with a quizzical look. “I’m just confused about why you think I would leave you at all.”
Seeing how earnestly Youngjae is looking at him, with overwhelming concern and care written all over his features, Hanjin suddenly finds himself at a loss.
“Because… because you’re
tired
, hyung. And I’m keeping you awake,
again
, and maybe you just want to go to
your
bed and get some sleep, since I’ve been denying you that. I wouldn’t blame you.”
“Jinie, listen to me. When I said I would always be here for you, I meant it. I won’t ever disappear when you need me, no matter how difficult it gets. Taking care of you isn’t an obligation—it’s a privilege, and it’s not one I’m going to give up willingly, now or ever. Do you understand that?”
It’s moments like this when Hanjin remembers why he fell for Youngjae in the first place. He always knows exactly what to say to put Hanjin’s racing thoughts to rest—or to send them spiralling in a rush of oxytocin and stuttering heartbeats, depending. Sometimes, like right now, it’s both, all at once.
Youngjae’s always so calm, so caring. So gentle and patient it genuinely makes Hanjin feel like crying, because he knows he doesn’t deserve it. He has never done
anything
that would make him worthy of all the inconceivably vast kindness his hyung has shown him, but somehow Youngjae has never held that against him. The older boy treats Hanjin like something precious, as if Youngjae is lucky to know him and not, as it is in reality, the opposite way around.
Hanjin wants to tell Youngjae all of this, but he can’t. If he gives voice to his adoration, he risks losing the object of it forever, and Hanjin is far from brave enough to take that chance. Instead, he tucks his head into Youngjae’s shoulder and tries to tune out everything that isn’t his hyung’s heartbeat.
“Thank you, hyung,” Hanjin whispers. “For everything.”
Even without seeing, Hanjin can
sense
the sad smile on Youngjae’s face as the older boy pulls him impossibly close, bodies pressed flush from end to end.
“Anything for you, Jinie.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’s late when the TWS members finally pile into the van, since their dance practice ran longer than expected and only ended when all six members were on the verge of collapse. Youngjae, for one, is more exhausted than words can describe, but he knows that even now sleep will be nearly impossible if he doesn’t have Hanjin to guide him into it. Why his insomnia insists on continuing to cause problems even when his body is more than ready to shut down completely, Youngjae may never know.
But he can’t dwell on that for long, because there’s something much more important demanding his attention at present, and that something happens to be Hanjin himself, groggy and disoriented as the two slump into the van’s backseat. Hanjin immediately curls up against Youngjae’s side, head leaning on the older boy’s shoulder and eyes quickly falling shut.
Hanjin is asleep within minutes, snoring ever-so-quietly and melting Youngjae’s heart with his cuteness. Even with how tired he is, the older boy can’t help but smile, seeing Hanjin like this, so peaceful and content without all of the pressures of idol life weighing him down as they do when he’s awake.
Youngjae can sense someone’s gaze on his skin, and looks up to find Dohoon staring back at him.
“What’s up?” Youngjae whispers, meeting his friend’s eyes inquiringly.
Dohoon gestures at Hanjin’s sleeping form.
“He looks… comfortable.”
“Yeah,” Youngjae replies, suddenly feeling a strange and inexplicable surge of pride. “Isn’t he so cute?”
Dohoon’s eyes narrow, squinting at Youngjae as if he’s trying to psychically tap into his thoughts. It’s unclear whether he succeeds.
“Yes. You two are really cute
together
.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Youngjae is genuinely confused—why did Dohoon say it in that tone of voice? Why did he feel the need to drag Youngjae into it when they were previously focusing just on Hanjin?
And why did Dohoon phrase it like he was talking to a couple?
Youngjae doesn’t get the chance to ask any of those questions, though, because Dohoon is already saying “oh, nothing…” and turning back around in his seat, promptly putting on his headphones to tune out the world around him, Youngjae included.
Though his confusion hasn’t lessened any, Youngjae shakes it off, deciding that Dohoon was just being weird for the sake of it. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He focuses on Hanjin instead, still looking peaceful and angelic in his arms. Youngjae loses all sense of time, watching the steady rise and fall of Hanjin’s shoulders as he breathes, deeply and evenly, and before he knows it, the van is pulling up to the front door of the dorm.
The doors roll open, and the other members begin to stumble out of the vehicle, eager to finally get some real rest. Jihoon and Kyungmin sleepily accompany their manager, Sungjae, inside, while Dohoon, ever the diligent hyung, grabs their bags for them.
Shinyu is about to follow with the rest when he looks back to see that Youngjae (and by extension Hanjin) still haven’t moved. He pauses, catching Youngjae’s attention with a small wave.
“Hey, come on. We’re home.”
“You guys go on ahead,” Youngjae tells him quietly. “I’ll stay here with Jinie.”
Shinyu’s brow furrows.
“Are you sure? We could just wake him up.”
Youngjae shakes his head, careful not to jostle Hanjin too much as he does so.
“Let’s let him sleep a little longer. He’s been so tired lately, I’d feel bad disturbing him.”
“So have
you
,” Shinyu points out. “You deserve to rest properly, too.”
“I’m fine, hyung. We won't be long.”
Hanjin shifts slightly, face nuzzling further into Youngjae’s neck. Youngjae can feel the younger boy’s breath on his collarbone, but he doesn’t understand the way his heart rate spikes and his mouth goes dry in response, nor the way Shinyu looks at him, as if he knows something Youngjae doesn’t.
“Okay, Youngjae-yah. If you’re sure. I'll let Sungjae hyung know. But I’m coming to get you both if you don’t come in within the hour, alright?”
“Of course. Thank you.”
Shinyu simply nods, then finally exits the van, sliding the door shut behind him. Youngjae leans back into the uncomfortable vinyl seating, moving slowly to avoid disturbing the rest of his sleeping dongsaeng. Once he’s gotten settled once more, he carefully shifts Hanjin so that the younger boy is sitting fully in his lap, supporting him with an arm gently curled around his waist.
Now that they’re alone, Youngjae takes his time to study Hanjin more carefully than he could before. He’s beautiful, as always, but now that Youngjae looks closer, there’s a strange sadness about his features that leaves the older boy incurably uneasy. That look hasn’t lifted from Hanjin’s face for weeks, seemingly getting worse by the day—with the exception of the time Hanjin spends on-camera, when it is unfailingly replaced by his signature sunny, almost painfully cheerful disposition.
Something is clearly wrong, but every time Youngjae asks, Hanjin dismisses his concerns with a wave of his hand and a broad smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Poor Hanjinie,” Youngjae murmurs. “You worked so hard today. I’m so proud of you.”
Hanjin doesn’t stir, even when Youngjae runs his fingers through the younger boy’s ruffled, slightly wavy hair, so Youngjae figures it’s safe to continue.
“I’m always proud of you. You’re so passionate about what you do. You’re always improving, even when you think you’re not. But you overwork yourself too much. That’s probably why you've been so tired recently. Part of it, at least. I know you think no one notices, but I do. I’m worried about you.”
For some reason, all of this is easier to say knowing Hanjin is far too out of it to properly hear or comprehend Youngjae’s words. It’s so much easier to be honest about the anxiety over the younger boy’s wellbeing that has plagued him constantly as of late.
“I just want you to be happy, more than anything,” Youngjae admits, ghosting his thumb over Hanjin’s cheek. “Because you deserve it so, so much. I just don’t know how to tell you that, and have you believe me.”
In the wake of that confession, silence reigns, broken only by the sound of both boys’ breathing. Eventually, Youngjae releases a heavy, resigned sigh, and drops his head back against the seat.
“I’m sorry. For being so bad at just
saying
things when you’re awake. I don’t know why it’s so hard.”
The minutes tick away as the two remain in that position, Youngjae periodically shifting to ensure Hanjin is getting proper neck support, because he
really
doesn’t want to be the reason the younger boy wakes up stiff and pained the following morning.
He tries to focus on the here and now, but Youngjae’s mind can’t help but be pulled back to Shinyu’s time limit. Hanjin deserves so much more than an hour of uninterrupted rest, and it makes Youngjae feel nauseated to consider waking him before he’s ready.
Thankfully, just as Youngjae is about to reluctantly nudge his dongsaeng back into consciousness, Hanjin wakes up by himself. The younger boy blinks sleepily and rubs his eyes before noticing the arm encircling his waist. Youngjae watches as Hanjin’s gaze migrates upward, finally landing on his face with a look of utter bewilderment.
“Wh…
hyung
?”
Youngjae nods, and Hanjin looks around, searching for context clues but clearly still too groggy to process anything he does find.
“What’s going on? Where are the others?”
“They went inside already. We’re still in the car—you fell asleep on the way home, and I didn’t want to wake you.”
Hanjin blushes as Youngjae’s words gradually register in his exhausted brain.
“Oh god, hyung, I’m sorry—you didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t. But I wanted to.”
Hanjin bites his lower lip, flushing an even brighter pink.
“I’m still sorry. That’s really selfish of me, keeping you awake just because I couldn’t manage the same.”
Youngjae’s forehead creases. He hates hearing Hanjin talk about himself this way; doesn’t he know he’s insulting one of Youngjae’s favourite people, straight to his face?
“It’s nothing to apologise for, Jinie—you had a long day, and you needed your sleep.”
“You say that like
you
didn’t, too,” Hanjin points out. “You worked just as hard as I did today.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Hanjin blinks, then looks down at his lap and mumbles something under his breath, low enough that Youngjae can’t quite catch it.
“What was that?”
With a sigh, Hanjin meets Youngjae’s eyes again, looking into them so intensely that Youngjae is almost afraid he’ll see into his soul.
“I said you’re a hypocrite, hyung. Telling me not to worry when you spend so much time taking care of
me
. Why don’t you ever let people look out for you like you do for them?”
“I—I don’t…” Youngjae scours his brain for a reasonable answer, and comes up empty. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
Hanjin’s expression softens again, and he finally reaches out, settling a hand on the older boy’s shoulder.
“That’s okay. Just… promise me you’ll think about yourself first next time? I know it’s not that simple, but please
try
, at least?”
Youngjae swallows nervously. He’s not sure how to respond in a way that won’t set Hanjin up for disappointment. For now, he settles on what has become an extremely familiar refrain, and prays it’s true.
“Anything for you.”
“Come inside with me?” Hanjin asks, tilting his head with a small smile.
“Of course,” Youngjae replies, with a sigh of relief. “My room, or yours?”
Hanjin’s cheeks colour slightly, and for a moment Youngjae is afraid he’s misspoken, that it was too much to assume the younger would want to continue such intimacy further after such an awkward awakening. But in the next moment, the hesitant expression is gone, and Hanjin takes Youngjae’s hand with an obvious feeling of determination.
“Mine,” the younger boy answers. “Now come on—you need your rest.”
So Youngjae goes.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“We’ll be back soon,” Dohoon promises. The other three members have already left TWS’ waiting room, off on a mission to secure snacks from the famous Inkigayo cafeteria. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”Hanjin shakes his head.“I’m alright. Thanks anyway, hyung.”Dohoon nods his understanding, and is about to leave when Hanjin stops him with “But…”“Yeah?”“Maybe a strawberry latte for Youngjae hyung?” Hanjin suggests, looking down at the hyung in question, sleeping peacefully with his head in Hanjin’s lap. “It’s his favourite. Some ppeongtwigi, too—I know hyung really enjoyed it last time we were here.”When Hanjin looks back up, Dohoon is frowning, and his own face falls in response.“Is that too much trouble, hyung? You don’t have to get it if you don’t want to.”“Hm? Oh, no. It’s no trouble at all,” Dohoon quickly assures him. “I’ll go get it now. Just… look after Youngjae while I’m gone, okay?”Hanjin is puzzled by Dohoon’s concern, given that one of their managers is still in the room with them (even if he is currently engrossed in his phone) to deal with any problems that should arise. Nevertheless, he nods, if only to put Dohoon’s mind at ease.“I’ve got him.”“I know,” Dohoon answers cryptically, and is gone before Hanjin can ask what he means.Feeling the telltale creep of nausea that always appears when the other members question his behaviour towards Youngjae, Hanjin swallows thickly and elects to simply ignore the feeling. If he doesn’t think about it, it doesn’t have to affect him. All he has to think about in this moment is the softness of Youngjae’s watermelon-red hair beneath his fingers, and the serene expression on the older boy’s face.Hanjin wonders if Youngjae has ever looked at him this way, while he’s asleep, knowing that he won’t see the adoration painted all over the other’s face. Then he stops, because nothing good can come from that kind of delusion.No, Hanjin decides. It’s better to simply enjoy this moment while it lasts, than to drive himself insane with baseless, wishful speculation.Still, his heart aches. The feeling is so familiar it’s almost comforting, now. He can sit with it without feeling like he’s going to die, as long as he never allows himself to hope things could be different. It is enough, Hanjin tells himself, for Youngjae to be the love of his life, but not know it. As long as Hanjin can stay close to him, it is enough.It tastes like a lie. To placate himself, Hanjin pretends that he and Youngjae are alone together in the universe. That they’re just two stars, a binary system. Or maybe Hanjin is only an asteroid, caught in Youngjae’s orbit. The comet that fell in love with the moon.“Hyung,” Hanjin whispers, so softly he can be sure their manager, Sungjae, has no chance of hearing him. “Why do you have to make this so hard? Don’t you know how much it hurts me to go on like this? It’s cruel.”A tinge of frustration seeps into Hanjin’s voice as he looks down at how peaceful Youngjae seems, even as Hanjin burns up inside.“You’re so kind to me, always, even though you know I don’t deserve it. How am I supposed to move on? How am I supposed to forget how much I—”Hanjin’s voice suddenly leaves him, but he has to say it. He needs to experience the catharsis, the closure , of telling Youngjae, even asleep, just once. He smooths back Youngjae’s hair and lowers his voice to a mere murmur.“Youngjae hyung, I love y—”In a cruel twist of fate, that is the exact moment that Kyungmin decides to burst through the door, grinning like he’s just won the lottery. Catching Hanjin red-handed, in the sense that said hands are still threaded through Youngjae’s crimson hair.“Hey, Hanjinie hyung, we got that ppeongtwigi you wanted, so… what are you doing?”“Nothing!” Hanjin insists, far too quickly. “I was just… fixing hyung’s hair. Wouldn’t want him going on stage with it tangled, right?”Shinyu is right behind Kyungmin, with the Hoonz following soon after.“You know you can let the makeup noonas take care of that, right?” the eldest points out. “You might end up making it worse if you try to fix it yourself.”“I know, but—” Hanjin tries, cheeks heating up with embarrassment.He’s cut off by Youngjae stirring in his lap, opening his eyes with a dreamy, unfocused expression. Hanjin retracts his hands as quickly as possible, prompting a soft noise of discontent from the older boy.“What time is it?” Youngjae asks groggily, and Hanjin finds himself too flustered to answer even that most basic of questions, staring down at him awkwardly until Jihoon comes to the rescue.“It’s time for snacks, hyung,” he says. “I’ve got a strawberry latte with your name on it right here.”That’s all it takes for Youngjae to sit up quickly, his eyes glimmering with excitement. He takes the proffered drink without hesitation, and melts into his seat after a single sip.“Thank you, Jihoonie,” Youngjae says, reaching out to ruffle the younger boy’s hair affectionately.Hanjin grimaces, hit by a momentary pang of jealousy for which he can’t help feeling ashamed. He buries the emotion by accepting a sandwich from Shinyu and biting into it before any of his groupmates can question the look on his face.The others settle down, and the next few minutes are spent eating and idly chatting. Hanjin deliberately looks anywhere but Youngjae’s face throughout, afraid a confession might come spilling out if he so much as makes eye contact for even a moment.He still has a third of his sandwich left when their manager comes over with an apologetic expression and informs the group it’s time to return to the stage for the winner announcement. Everyone groans except for Hanjin, who simply can’t get up and out the door fast enough.Before he can manage it, though, Youngjae catches him by the shoulder and pulls him back down while the other members are getting themselves ready to go around them.“I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier, but thank you, Jinie.”Hanjin nearly chokes on his own breath. Youngjae’s head is cocked to the side playfully, and a small smile passes over his agonisingly pretty face.“For what?” he manages.“For letting me sleep. And for looking out for my interests,” Youngjae adds, tilting his head toward his half-finished, pale pink beverage. “Dohoon told me,” he whispers conspiratorially.“Oh,” Hanjin replies simply, even more flustered. “I—You’re w-welcome, hyung.”Youngjae’s grin broadens as Hanjin trips over his words.“You’re so cute, aegi.”Before Hanjin can respond, Youngjae is standing, taking the younger boy’s hand and pulling him up with him.“Let’s go.”Hanjin doesn’t resist, floating on the high of Youngjae’s affection all the way to the stage. This boy will be the death of me , he realises. And I’m not sure I mind .
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hanjin dreams of the ocean again, and of Youngjae.
This time, the older boy doesn’t even wait until they’ve hit the shore before he’s pulling Hanjin as close to him as physics will allow, and then some. His lips, when they brush against Hanjin’s for only the briefest of moments, are wet, and taste of saltwater. Like always, Hanjin can’t get enough, and can think of nothing but his own desperate desire for
more
.
And like always, it’s over far, far too soon.
Hanjin is shaken awake, and finds himself in an unfamiliar place. One that is very much
not
his own bed, but isn’t Youngjae’s, either, as he’s come to expect. For some reason, that thought is extremely distressing to Hanjin, who gropes blindly in search of something—or, preferably, some
one
—to hold onto.
He doesn’t need to look long before someone comes to
him
, pulling him upright by the waist and guiding him to walk forward. Hanjin can tell, now, that he’s in the dorm’s living room, and that the space he’s just left was the couch, though he hasn’t a clue why he ended up there in the first place. They proceed into the hallway, though Hanjin is, in reality, doing very little of the work himself. He’s mostly just leaning heavily against the other person, allowing them to take most of his weight while his legs remain weak and poorly articulated.
In Hanjin’s groggy, just-awoken haze, still without his glasses, all he can make out about the person half-supporting, half-carrying him is a strong arm around his waist and a flash of jet-black hair.
“
Hyungie
…” Hanjin whines. He grasps at the other boy’s shirt and pulls them off-course until his own side hits a wall, forcing them both to stop. “Why are we…?”
“It’s just me, Hanjinie,” says a voice that is
definitely
not Youngjae. Hanjin freezes as he realises his mistake.
“Jihoon-ah? What are you—where is Youngjae hyung?”
Hanjin’s blurred vision finally clears enough to make out the fuzzy outline of Jihoon frowning beside him.
“Hyung isn’t here, Hanjin-ah—he’s at his family’s house, for his sister’s birthday, remember?”
Hanjin
does
remember; he remembers hugging Youngjae goodbye as he got into the car, where one of their management staff members was already waiting, ready to begin the four-hour drive to Gimhae. He’d taken the chance to bury his face in Youngjae’s shoulder and hug him so tightly that the older boy had to tell him to loosen up so he could breathe properly.
It’ll be alright, Jin-ah. It’s only two days
, Youngjae reassured him then.
I’ll be back before you know it
.
I know
, Hanjin answered.
But I miss you already anyway
.
Is that completely stupid of me
?
No—it’s not
. One of Youngjae’s hands trailed over Hanjin’s back as it moved to gently pet his hair.
I miss you, too
.
Hanjin also remembers the sinking pit of dread in his stomach as he watched the car pull away. Because it might be only two days, but that was also two
nights
—nights Hanjin would have to spend alone, for the first time in over a month. He already felt a little colder, a little
emptier
, just thinking about trying to sleep without Youngjae’s arms around him, the familiar warmth and weight of the older boy being something Hanjin has grown so accustomed to that he’s no longer sure how to manage without it.
When evening came, he ended up watching a movie with the other members, watching as they left to turn in for the night, one by one, until he was the only one left. He promised Jihoon, the last to leave, that he would go to bed within half an hour. He was lying through his teeth, of course, but he didn’t want his best friend to worry. And how was he supposed to say ‘I can’t sleep because I’m hopelessly in love with Youngjae hyung and when he’s not here to hold me my heart hurts so much I don’t know what to do with myself’, anyway?
Well. Probably exactly like that. But telling Jihoon can only lead to utter mortification for Hanjin, so he’ll pass on that one, thanks.
And he
did
end up falling asleep, anyway, which he can’t help feeling guilty for. Hanjin wonders if Youngjae is still awake, and then thinks better of it. He already knows the answer to that question, and it makes him feel sick to his stomach.
Checking the hall clock, Hanjin learns that it’s currently two in the morning. He can picture Youngjae, who doubtlessly hasn’t slept a wink, staring at the ceiling and slowly going insane. And there’s nothing Hanjin can do about it.
“Hey. Hanjin-ah.” Hanjin blinks when Jihoon waves a hand in front of his face. “You okay?”
“Hm? Oh. Yes. Great.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Then why did you ask?” Hanjin retorts with a huff.
“Because I wanted to see whether you’d lie to me, which you just did.”
“So what?”
“
So
, that’s not healthy. Bottling things up. You know you can talk to me, right?”
Hanjin hates this. He hates the way that Jihoon is treating him like something fragile, and he hates that Youngjae isn’t here to do it instead.
“Whatever,” Hanjin says simply. “I’m going to bed.”
“Hanjin-ah,” Jihoon interrupts, his grip on Hanjin’s shoulder tightening marginally. “I know, okay?”
Hanjin is about 70% sure he knows what Jihoon is saying with that remark, but he plays dumb anyway.
“You know
what
?”
“You’re in love with Youngjae hyung.”
Despite already expecting to hear those words, Hanjin’s blood runs cold. He swallows thickly and tries to preserve his mask of nonchalance, but he can’t help the way his voice shakes when he speaks next.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. I won’t even make you confess to him. I just… you’re my best friend, and I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt, Hanjin-ah.”
“I’m not stupid. I know he doesn’t feel the same.”
“But you’re still sleeping in his bed every night.
And
you’re wearing his shirt right now, do you know that?”
Hanjin’s face burns with shame. He looks down at Youngjae’s faded t-shirt, hanging loosely on his own significantly smaller frame.
“It’s just a stupid shirt. And it’s just to help hyung’s insomnia,” he tries, but even to his own ears it sounds hollow. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Maybe not to him. But I know it means something to
you
.”
Hanjin exhales slowly, fighting to remain calm.
“I’m tired, Jihoon-ah. I just want to get some sleep.”
Jihoon looks like he wants to push further, but he evidently decides against it, because he just sighs in exasperation and squeezes Hanjin’s shoulder.
“Okay, Hanjinie. You’ve had a long day. Let’s get you to bed.”
This time, Hanjin doesn’t resist when Jihoon steers him down the hallway, towards his bedroom. The other boy opens the door as silently as possible, to avoid waking Kyungmin. Jihoon leads him to his bed, and even goes as far as tucking him in before saying goodnight and turning to leave.
Jihoon is halfway through the door when he pauses and looks back over his shoulder, his dark silhouette juxtaposed against the warm light of the hallway.
“Hanjin-ah?”
“Yeah?” Hanjin asks, even as he turns his body away from the door. He feels bad for wishing Jihoon would just
leave
already, but he also just wants to sleep, and to stop being asked so many questions seemingly tailor-made to break his heart.
“Please, just think about what I said, alright? I’m only trying to look out for you.”
Hanjin nods, but he still won’t look at his friend, too ashamed to meet Jihoon’s eyes.
“I know.”
He hears the door click shut as Jihoon leaves, and lets out a guilty sigh of relief. He hates the way Jihoon seems to be able to see straight through him, even past the mask that Hanjin has built up over months spent gradually accepting his fate, one letdown at a time. Hanjin already knows he’s doomed to be alone, so why does Jihoon feel the need to remind him?
Whatever. Hanjin doesn’t want to think about that—about Jihoon, or his own unrequited feelings, or even Youngjae. He just wants to sleep.
But even a desire as simple as that, the universe denies. Hanjin tosses and turns, but it’s no use. His bed feels like it belongs to a stranger, cold and empty and alien. He feels like a completely different person from the one who used to feel at home here. Maybe it’s because his home is now a person, and that person is currently far beyond his reach, in both a literal and metaphorical sense.
God, what is
wrong
with him?
As pathetic as the fact is, Hanjin can’t sleep. Not here, not in a place utterly devoid of everything that makes him feel safe. If he stays here, he’ll be awake for the rest of the night, and he’ll be far too tired to perform well in tomorrow’s schedules. He’ll disappoint the team, almost as much as he’s already disappointing himself.
Then Hanjin gets an idea.
It’s a foolish, impulsive, and wholly self-destructive idea, which he would be a complete idiot to indulge. Which is precisely why he does it anyway.
Slowly, Hanjin sits up in bed. A glance at the other side of the room informs him that Kyungmin is still fast asleep. He’s willing to bet Shinyu is, too. He’d better be, or else Hanjin will never be able to face him again.
Hanjin swivels himself out of bed, feet meeting the cold hardwood floor. He holds his breath as he creeps across the room and through the door, then down the hallway to Youngjae and Shinyu’s room. He opens that door as soundlessly as possible, suppressing a sigh of relief when he hears the mathyung snoring softly.
Hating himself more with every step he takes, Hanjin navigates to Youngjae’s bed, and climbs in. The effect is immediate—already, he feels safer, more at ease. Maybe it’s the lingering fragrance of the older boy’s green tea-scented conditioner on the sheets. Maybe it’s simply the memory of every time Hanjin has woken up here, crying, and been immediately comforted in every way he needs most.
Whatever it is, it’s unspeakably soothing, and allows Hanjin to shed the tension wound up in his entire body and truly relax for the first time since Youngjae’s departure. And maybe that’s completely pathetic, but right now, Hanjin doesn’t care. Right now, he decides, he’s allowed to be selfish.
He schedules an alarm on his phone for about an hour before he knows Shinyu’s will go off, and sets it to vibrate. If he sneaks out and returns to his own bed before anyone can see him here, no one will know. Not even Jihoon, as omniscient as he seems to be about the state of Hanjin’s heart.
What does Jihoon know, anyway? Hanjin might be in love with Youngjae, but that doesn’t mean he’s entirely dependent on him. He knows how to keep his distance, to not get pulled so far into the older boy’s orbit that escape becomes impossible. He can handle it.
That’s what Hanjin tells himself, anyway. And as he falls asleep in his hyung’s bed, buried under the covers and the still-vivid sensory memory of Youngjae’s body heat, he can almost make himself believe it.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’s 3 a.m.—the witching hour, as he was once told—and Youngjae is still awake, watching his own fancams and picking apart every flaw in his performance. He scours the comment section, masochistically searching for even one hateful comment, but if such a thing ever existed, it has since been entirely buried in a flood of 42's love and blue heart emojis.
Youngjae’s head hurts, and he can’t help thinking of the look on his little sister’s face when he insisted he was alright, despite not getting a wink of sleep the night before. On the way to Gimhae, he’d been confident that being home with his family for the first time in months would be just what he needed to get some proper rest, but instead it had almost the opposite effect. His family kept commenting on how tired he looked, as if he didn’t know.
To make matters even worse, his mother kept asking if he was seeing anyone, no matter how many times he explained the “no dating” clause of his contract. That would be irritating on its own, but it was made a thousand times more confusing by the momentary flashes of a certain face his brain provided whenever the question resurfaced, and often even when it didn’t.
During a momentary lapse in Youngjae’s concentration, the fancam ends and the next autoplays, which means he’s suddenly met with the very face he’s been trying not to think about for two days now.
Immediately, Youngjae becomes fixated on every tiny nuance of Hanjin’s performance—the slight furrow of his brow as he focuses on getting the choreography just right; the smooth, graceful movement of his slim frame, noticeably smaller than anyone else in the group; the dazzling brightness of his smile as it lights up the whole room.
Youngjae has no choice but to shut off his phone halfway through the video’s runtime. His lungs have tightened to an almost painful degree, partially from the sheer effect of Hanjin’s…
everything
, and partially from how much Youngjae misses him.
He tries to summon up the same kind of feeling for the other members, but to no avail. This ache, this
emptiness
, is unique to Hanjin for Youngjae, and it always has been.
“I wish you were here, Jinie,” Youngjae whispers into the night. “I need you.”
The confession comes with tears suddenly spilling from the corners of his eyes. All Youngjae wants is to reach out, and to find Hanjin lying beside him—but Hanjin is hundreds of kilometres away, so far out of his reach that healing the hole in his heart seems truly hopeless.
And that’s pathetic, isn’t it? This dependence Youngjae has built up on Hanjin’s presence? It can’t be healthy to need someone more than air, surely.
A solution comes to him then, but it’s one he fears will hurt him more than help him, in the long run. He also fears that he doesn’t care.
Hanjin doesn’t pick up the first time he calls, and maybe it’s a testament to Youngjae’s desperation that he tries again anyway. This time, though, he only makes it to the second ring before there’s a soft click, and a moment later a soft, sleepy voice from the other end of the line.
“Hyung? Are you okay?”
Youngjae’s mind goes blank, void of all but a single thought:
When did Hanjin’s voice get so pretty?
“Youngjae hyung? You there?” Hanjin asks again, a few moments of silence later. “’Cause if this is a mistake call, I’m just gonna hang up now.”
“No!” Youngjae blurts out. He flushes bright pink, and thanks the universe that Hanjin can’t see it. “I mean, yes, I’m here. Did I wake you?” he amends guiltily.
“Yeah, you did. I don’t mind, though.”
“Have I ever told you you’re way too nice?”
Hanjin laughs quietly.
“You have. Many, many times.”
“Oh. Well, it can’t hurt to say it again, can it? It’s not like—”
“Hyungie,” Hanjin interrupts gently, “you’re stalling. Tell me what you need from me.”
“I…”
Youngjae searches for the right words to explain his predicament without sounding completely pathetic. He quickly comes to the conclusion that those words don’t exist, so he tells the truth.
“I just wanted to hear your voice. I couldn’t sleep, and I thought maybe… maybe it would help?”
Youngjae cringes at himself, but Hanjin doesn’t seem to mind.
“What do you want me to talk about?”
“Whatever you want. Something that makes you happy. Something you love.”
“So what I’m hearing is I should wax poetic about mala xiang guo for the next hour,” Hanjin suggests, a smile audible in his voice.
“If you want.”
“Hmm… tempting, but no. I think I have a better idea.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Have I ever told you about my favourite arcade in Xinxiang?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, it wasn’t really a proper arcade. It was this tiny place in my local mall, and it had maybe ten machines in total. But they had a DDR machine, and I used to spend
hours
in there playing after school. There was only one though, so I had to fight off this one ahjussi who always wanted to use it at the same time.”
Youngjae can’t help himself. He bursts out laughing at the thought of that fairly ridiculous scene, and he hears an indignant huff of breath from Hanjin.
“Look, I get that it wasn’t exactly a sophisticated way to discover my love of dance, but—”
“No, no—that’s so perfect. So
you
. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Hanjin replies. His voice has softened out again, lilted and musical once more. “Anyway, that’s how I spent my allowance every week, but the owner would give me extra tokens every Friday for being such a loyal customer. I still remember her smile. I hope she’s doing well.”
Youngjae’s imagination fills in the wistful smile on Hanjin’s face in the small silence before he launches into another anecdote.
“Oh, and then there was one time with a classmate…”
Youngjae doesn’t respond any further, outside of a few soft hums to show he’s still listening. His eyelids are already growing heavy as Hanjin continues his story. There’s just something soothing about his voice; Youngjae wishes he could bottle whatever that
something
is up and keep it with him at all times, right over his heart.
Hanjin keeps talking for an indeterminate amount of time after that. Youngjae can barely pay attention to most of it. He’s not really hearing the words themselves, really—Hanjin’s voice has become a peaceful rhythm he can simply fall into, like the gentle lull of waves crashing into the shore.
The last thing Youngjae hears before he finally gives in to unconsciousness is this:
“Good night, hyung. Sweet dreams.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’s strange, Youngjae thinks, how many different things the word ‘home’ can mean. It can be a place, or multiple places. A sensation, an emotion. A memory. And sometimes, home can even be a person.
That’s the thought that comes to him when he opens the front door of the dorm and finds Hanjin curled up on the couch, half asleep and just barely holding onto consciousness in the hopes of being the first to greet an equally exhausted Youngjae.
Hanjin stumbles groggily to his feet and has his arms wrapped around Youngjae before the older boy even has a chance to put his bags down.
“Welcome home, hyung,” he murmurs.
Youngjae melts into the embrace without hesitation. He buries his face in the collar of Hanjin’s pyjama shirt; the scent of Earl Grey clings to the fabric, filling his body with an automatic, involuntary sense of calm.
“I missed you, Jinie.”
“I missed you more.”
“Not possible. Like, genuinely,” Youngjae replies. “It’s been a long two days.”
Hanjin pulls away; when Youngjae’s eyes open, the younger boy’s are closed again. He looks like he’s about to fall over at any second, so Youngjae wastes no time in dropping his luggage to the floor (internally vowing to put it away properly later) and grabbing Hanjin’s hand purposefully.
“You’re coming with me, jagi.”
“Hm?” Hanjin hums inquisitively. “Where’re we going?”
“My room.
Bed
.”
Hanjin’s eyes snap open.
“What?” he chokes out. His expression has warped in a way Youngjae doesn’t comprehend, but also doesn’t like in the slightest.
“We both need to sleep,” he says slowly. “We can go to your room, if you want.”
Youngjae tells himself that Hanjin is just disoriented from being suddenly awoken, not really as shocked and apprehensive as his face would suggest, but the quickening pulse he feels in Hanjin’s wrist indicates otherwise.
“No, no, it’s fine. Your room works,” Hanjin insists nonetheless, voice strained. “Let’s go.”
It doesn’t take long after that for Youngjae to herd Hanjin to his bedroom and then wrangle him into his bed. Honestly, Hanjin’s muscle memory does most of the work—it’s like he was made to fit there.
Once he’s crawled under the covers, Youngjae presses as close to Hanjin’s body as he can, maximising the physical contact between them. He wants to soak up as much of Hanjin’s presence as he can, now that they’re finally back together.
The younger boy hums softly and nuzzles closer, like a moth drawn to the flame of his hyung’s body heat.
“You’re so good to me, Jinie. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
“You’re you, hyung,” Hanjin says plainly, as if that explains everything.
Youngjae can’t help himself. He allows his fingertips to trail over Hanjin’s skin, working his way up from his collarbone to his defined cheekbones.
“You’re so pretty when you’re sleepy,” he whispers. “My sleeping beauty.”
“Yours?” Hanjin asks. “You promise?”
Youngjae’s breath catches in his throat. He swallows the sudden trepidation, because he refuses to let Hanjin fall asleep without hearing the answer.
“I promise,” Youngjae vows. “Always.”
He feels Hanjin nod against his chest, and a few seconds later he feels the younger boy’s breath even out as he succumbs to sleep.
Left alone with his thoughts,
Youngjae can’t help but wonder why such a perfect moment hurts so badly.
His chest feels tight. It’s painful, but it’s also the most exhilarating feeling he’s ever had. Like every moment spent with Hanjin is a lifetime of emotion and dreams both fulfilled and abandoned, all tied together with a bow. Or maybe it’s simpler than that—just an implicit understanding that this boy sleeping soundly in his arms is someone he can trust, with anything.
Youngjae thinks he’s read about this sensation before. He mentally scours the pages of his favourite novels, of medical journals and magazine articles, chasing after the unending stream of words until it finally leads him to the conclusion he thinks he’s known all along, deep down.
The feeling is
love
.
It’s an epiphany that feels so freeing that Youngjae wants nothing more than to laugh and cry of relief. He finally has the answers. He’s finally found the person he’s been looking for, all these years. A best friend. A confidant.
Home
.
Suddenly, it all makes sense—the overwhelming desire to protect Hanjin he’s felt since the very beginning; the strange, magnetic pull that draws his body towards Hanjin’s, anywhere and everywhere; the way the younger boy never fails to be on his mind, whatever the situation.
Youngjae knows having feelings for a groupmate is less than ideal. He knows that a confession could blow up in his face, but he doesn’t care. He can’t live with keeping this love to himself, if there’s even a small chance Hanjin might feel the same. A chance that they could be happy together.
Hanjin shifts slightly in his sleep; Youngjae makes a promise to himself.
“I love you, Hanjin-ah,” he whispers. “I’ll tell you when you wake up.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When Hanjin wakes up, the first thing he can think is a single word:
Stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
What is
wrong
with him? He can’t stop reliving everything he did wrong last night—from his completely insane reaction to a word as innocent as ‘bed’ to the way his entire body lit on fire when Youngjae called him pretty. Everything about his hyung makes Hanjin lose every shred of common sense. Just being near Youngjae makes Hanjin utterly and incorrigibly
stupid
.
Even now—Youngjae’s arms are still wrapped vice-tight around him, after all, and it’s doing things to Hanjin’s heart that would horrify any decent cardiologist.
I want to kiss him
, Hanjin thinks, when he realises just how close Youngjae’s lips are to his own.
Oh
god
, I want to kiss him
.
This is bad. These feelings could ruin everything. One foolish decision, and everything he’s ever worked for could disappear. Hanjin knows this, and yet it’s still a constant battle to keep his impulses in check. One of these days, his resolve will break, he’s certain of it—which means he needs to do everything in his power to prevent himself having the opportunity to act on those impulses.
That realisation comes with a sickening pit of dread that widens in Hanjin’s stomach, just as Youngjae’s eyes flutter open, squinting in the pale morning light.
“Good morning, bǎobèi.”
There Youngjae goes again, sending a shiver down Hanjin’s spine. He needs to put a stop to it.
“Don’t call me that.”
“But it’s
cute
,” Youngjae complains with a pout, not noticing the sharp edge of Hanjin’s voice. “I looked up a bunch of Chinese nicknames for you, y’know. Would tiánxīn be better? Or xiǎo kě ài? What about—”
“
Hyung
,” Hanijin snaps. He sits up with a jolt, forcing Youngjae’s arms to retract from where they were tangled around his waist. “Just, fucking—just
stop
.”
From this angle, looking down at his hyung, Youngjae looks so small—so vulnerable. His voice is small, too, when he speaks.
“Jinie? Did I do something wrong?”
“Did you—” Hanjin laughs bitterly. “
Yes
, hyung. Everything about this is wrong.”
Youngjae’s eyes widen, just slightly.
“What does that mean? What’s ‘this’?”
“This whole sleep thing. I know we both have our problems, but this isn’t the way to solve them.”
“Why not? Can’t two friends help each other out?”
“You aren’t listening to me. This isn’t normal. This little routine we go through, every night, isn’t fucking normal. It’s not something ‘friends’ are supposed to do for each other. You treat me like we’re dating, but we’re not. How do you not understand that?”
The venom the words are laced with is undeniably excessive, and each one feels like another stab to Hanjin’s heart, but deep down he knows it’s necessary. He has no other choice, really. He’s fallen too deep already—if he doesn’t drive Youngjae away now, then it’s only a matter of time before he confesses everything, and both their worlds fall apart. He’s doing this for Youngjae’s own good, really, as well as his own.
He can hear Jihoon’s voice in his head:
I don’t want you to get hurt
.
That’s what this is. He’s saving himself from being hurt. It’s for the best.
“Don’t you get it? We’ve gotten so dependent on each other that we can’t even function when we’re apart. It’s unhealthy. We need to stop.”
Youngjae’s expression hardens, going from bewildered and hurt to angry in an instant. He sits up, holding Hanjin’s eye contact like a vice.
“You didn’t seem to think it was so wrong every time you woke up crying, and I was there for you. You were in pain. What did you want me to do?
Nothing
?”
“Yes!” Hanjin snaps. Youngjae startles. “I’m not a child. I don’t need you to manage my emotions for me.”
“It’s not childish to need help, Jinie. Is that really what you think of yourself? And what about me, huh? Am I weak for needing you, too?”
Hanjin’s mouth goes dry.
“I—I don’t know. Maybe.”
Youngjae draws in a ragged breath. Hanjin realises for the first time that they’re both crying. He hates being the reason for Youngjae’s tears, more than anything.
“Then that makes two of us,” Youngjae retorts. “Thanks for letting me know.”
In a moment, Youngjae is up and off the bed and storming his way to the door. He’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and wipes his tears away with the sleeve of his button-up shirt.
“Hyung,” Hanjin calls out when he realises what he’s said. “Hyung, wait! That’s not what I meant!”
Youngjae doesn’t even look back.
“Don’t, Hanjin-ah. It’s too late.”
The door clicks shut behind him with deafening finality.
Hanjin’s vision blurs with tears. The loss of Youngjae’s warmth beside him feels like an amputation.
It was supposed to be for the best, so why does it hurt so much?
It’s all my fault.
Which must be true, right? Youngjae is in pain, and he wouldn’t be if it weren’t for Hanjin. In fact, none of this would have happened if Hanjin had just kept his mouth shut after his nightmare, all those months ago. Sure, he’d doubtlessly still fall for Youngjae—that was more or less inevitable, but it never would’ve gone this far. There would be no chance of Youngjae himself becoming entangled in the horrible, sticky, contagious web of irrational emotion Hanjin always seems to be at the centre of.
If he’d only kept his mouth shut, Hanjin would be the only one crying right now.
With a start, Hanjin realises that he’s still in Youngjae’s room. He whips his head around, breathing an audible sigh of relief when he finds Shinyu’s bed already empty. Heaven knows how disastrous it would be if their leader had heard any of that.
“Okay,” Hanjin whispers to himself. “I’m fine. This is fine.”
Lies
, his brain screams at him. Hanjin ignores it.
The only way out is to let himself run on autopilot. He dries his tears and walks out of Youngjae’s room, hurrying through the hallway to minimize the risk of running into anyone on his way.
Mercifully, Hanjin’s room is empty. He lets out a relieved sigh as he slumps back on his door, letting it click shut. The others must all be having breakfast already. One less thing to worry about.
He dresses mechanically, and heads to the bathroom to wash up with the same level of automaticity. Right now, Hanjin’s life must be no more than a simple sequence of tasks—it’s the only way to keep himself from completely melting down.
His methods almost fail the moment he steps into the kitchen, and sees Youngjae’s face. His eyes are swollen, his skin is red and blotchy, and his hair is a mess. He looks almost as horrible as Hanjin feels.
Shinyu must be the only other member awake, since Hanjin doesn’t see anyone else out of their rooms. The mathyung sits beside Youngjae in silence, watching something on his phone; the only indication that he’s noticed anything wrong is their interlocked hands on the tabletop. It makes Hanjin sick with jealousy, but he doesn’t have any right to feel that way anymore, so he grits his teeth and finds his seat at the opposite end of the table.
Youngjae doesn’t look at him. Hanjin supposes he deserves it, but it still makes him angry.
The first person to speak, strangely enough, is Shinyu, without looking up from his phone.
“So, Hanjin-ah,” he begins tonelessly. “How did you sleep?”
“Well, hyung.”
“Yeah? And how are you doing now?”
Hanjin can feel himself being backed in a corner, so he swallows his pride, and lies with a smile on his face.
“Perfect,” he says, willing his voice not to crack. “Absolutely perfect.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’s the evening before TWS’ very first MAMA awards, and Youngjae should be the happiest he’s ever been, but he’s not. Outside of short, completely unavoidable exchanges at practice or in the dorm, and when they’re on camera (when he at least has the decency to keep up appearances for 42), Hanjin hasn’t spoken to him in two weeks. Not since the morning that destroyed them.
The others have definitely noticed. The hyung line keep shooting Youngjae concerned looks every time Hanjin brushes him off, while the maknaes huddle around Hanjin and glare daggers at him. He assumes they must think he’s done something, and he doesn’t blame them. He wonders what Hanjin told them, or if he told them anything at all.
He doesn’t have a clue what Hanjin feels about any of it. Every time they interact, the younger boy bears a carefully-practiced neutral expression, and he stays silent whenever he can help it. Any time Youngjae is foolish enough to try to strike up a conversation, it’s like talking to a brick wall, and Hanjin always finds some paper-thin excuse to leave as quickly as possible.
Sometimes, though, Youngjae catches Hanjin staring at him from across the practice room. Whenever that happens, Hanjin looks away the second he notices Youngjae looking back. Those are the only times Youngjae can detect any emotion from him, and even then, it’s only a flush of humiliation and a flash of pain in his eyes.
Youngjae doesn’t know where Hanjin gets off, acting like he’s the one who got hurt the most in this. Sure, Youngjae said some harsh things in the heat of the moment, but all of that pales in comparison to what Hanjin himself said without a second thought.
Everything about this is wrong.
This isn’t normal.
It’s unhealthy.
We need to stop.
What Youngjae doesn’t understand is
why
. Hanjin seemed perfectly content to fall back into their pattern of codependency—if that’s what it really was, and Youngjae would argue it wasn’t—when they went to sleep, but by the time he woke up, he was determined to end it.
What happened while Youngjae slept? What could possibly justify Hanjin’s complete 180?
What did I do wrong?
That question haunts Youngjae all through the plane journey to LA, then all through rehearsals, and then on the car ride to the hotel. Hanjin sits on the far opposite side of the van, and presses himself hard into the window as if to put as much distance as possible between them.
It’s melodramatic as hell, so it’s no wonder the other members take notice. The surprising part is when someone says something about it.
“Hey,” Dohoon whispers from the seat beside Youngjae, who pretends not to hear him.
Undeterred, Dohoon tries again.
“You need to tell me what’s going on with you and Hanjin,” he says quietly.
“No, I don’t,” Youngjae replies at an equal volume.
Dohoon stares at him levelly, clearly unimpressed.
“You do, actually” he replies matter-of-factly. “Because this isn’t just about you anymore. It’s affecting the whole group. Do you really think the company hasn’t noticed you two avoiding each other like the plague?”
Youngjae bristles. Of course Dohoon had to go and point out the work side of all of this.
“It’s fine,” he insists. “We’re professionals. The work is getting done, isn’t it?”
Dohoon scoffs. “Please. You can barely practice together. We keep having to do retakes because
you
can’t keep your expressions under control. It’s stressing out the maknaes, and Shinyu hyung is getting harassed by the managers for not keeping the group dynamic in check. You call that ‘professional’?”
“You know what?” Youngrae retorts, sitting up straighter. “That’s enough. This conversation is over.”
He’s about to put on his headphones and tune out the world when Dohoon’s voice softens, tone suddenly tuning apologetic.
“Hey, I’m sorry. That was too far. It’s just that… We can all see you’re hurting, you know? What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t try to help?”
“I don’t need your help,” Youngjae whispers back.
“Yes, you do,” Dohoon insists gently. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two. I don’t know whose fault it is. But I do know that
you
need to be the one to fix it.”
“Why should I?”
“Because Hanjin is the best thing that ever happened to you, and you need to get him back.”
The words hit like a knife to the chest, but Youngjae can’t even call them a lie. Even now, after everything the younger boy has done to hurt him, he can’t think about Hanjin without remembering how happy he made him. Or how every night they spent together, Youngjae wished that night would never end. He can’t forget Hanjin’s light-up-the-room smile, or his kindness, or his work ethic. He can’t forget the suffocating ache in his chest when they were apart, or the immeasurable relief he felt when they came back together.
And they always did come back to each other, like magnets drawn irresistibly closer time after time. Polar opposites in some ways—Youngjae soft-spoken and mischievous, Hanjin bubbly and surprisingly thoughtful—yet forever the same in their exhaustion and pain. Each the only cure to the other’s hurt.
It hurts, but the image is a painful reminder that sparks a new sense of determination in Youngjae: he and Hanjin have always found a way to be together before, so why should this time be any different? He can’t let Hanjin push him away again. Not before telling him how he really feels, at least.
He should’ve told him that night, shouldn’t have let Hanjin fall asleep without knowing how much he loves him. Even if it wasn’t reciprocated, Youngjae wouldn’t care. He can find a way to heal and move on from an unrequited love—what he
can’t
do is allow this secret to eat him alive any longer.
Tonight. I’ll tell him tonight. I can fix this.
Then the van stops in front of their hotel, and every bit of Youngjae’s newfound resolve crumbles in an instant. A pit of fear opens in his gut as the door slides open, and Hanjin jumps out like he can’t wait another second to get as far away from Youngjae as possible.
I can’t do this.
Because there’s no way Hanjin feels the same, is there? Which means that telling the truth now can only lead to heartbreak. Youngjae isn’t sure his heart can take another devastation like that.
Dohoon snaps his fingers in front of Youngjae’s eyes, bringing him back down to earth. The look on his face is questioning, asking:
So? What’s it going to be?
“I’ll think about it,” Youngjae mumbles, unable to look his friend in the eye. Then he follows the rest of the group out of the car and into the hotel lobby.
The lobby is almost completely empty, save for a few employees, since the entire hotel has been rented out for the groups attending MAMA and their staff. Security concerns and all that. Sungjae gathers the group into a small huddle, holding three keycards.
“It’s two to a room, and the roommates are randomly assigned,” Sungjae tells the members. “We’ve got Shinyu and Jihoon in 426, Hanjin and Youngjae in 427, and Dohoon and Kyungmin in 428. I’ll be 430, so if you need help, go straight there. Wake-up is 7:00 a.m., in the car for rehearsal by 7:45. Any questions?”
While the rest of the group is sluggishly shaking their heads and accepting their keycards, Youngjae can feel dread creeping in on the edges of his vision. There’s no escaping Hanjin if he’s his roommate, which means at best he’ll be kept awake all night by want and fear, and at worst he’ll plummet into Hanjin’s orbit and past the point of no return, however disastrous the results may be.
If Hanjin shares Youngjae’s anxiety, his face doesn’t show it. His expression remains entirely, pointedly impassive as he follows Youngjae to the elevator and down the hall to their room. Neither boy speaks a word on the way there.
Hanjin swipes the keycard, and upon entry Youngjae is irrationally, ridiculously relieved to see that there are, in fact, two beds in the room. He knew that already, of course, but the rush of cortisol running through his veins had him fearing otherwise for a split second.
Youngjae showers first, pushing past Hanjin on his way to the en-suite. He knows it’s impolite to not even ask first, but he does it anyway because it means that afterward he can get into bed and pull the covers over his head, without ever having to see Hanjin with wet hair, sleepy and pyjama-clad, stumbling into bed in the way that has always made Youngjae’s heart do flips in his chest, long before he knew what that feeling truly meant.
He hears it instead, and it’s almost worse. He hears the water shutting off and the muffled sounds of Hanjin getting dressed behind the bathroom door, then soft footsteps across the carpeted floor and the shifting of the mattress settling under the weight of a small, frail body he longs to hold. He hears Hanjin’s breathing even out as he falls asleep, and feels obligated to match that rhythm, to feign sleep even though they both know it’s a lie.
Youngjae stares at the ceiling until it turns to static. Maybe, he theorizes, if he can just make his entire body go numb, his heart will follow suit. Maybe it’ll stop pounding in his chest, urging him out of one bed and into another.
He wonders what Hanjin is dreaming about. They haven’t really talked about it, after that first night. Youngjae remembers how Hanjin’s hands shook as he described the blackness of the depths, how afraid he felt. How
alone
.
If anyone deserves to never feel alone, Youngjae thinks, it’s Hanjin. The boy who lets Kyungmin and Jihoon climb all over him, taking their endless teasing with perpetually untiring good humor; who listens to Dohoon talk fashion for hours on end, chiming in with observations and encouragements; who sits quietly with Shinyu when the leader is too overwhelmed to speak, helping him through his skincare routine before bed. Hanjin, the boy who has
always
been there for Youngjae when he needed him most, who held him close all those dark, empty nights.
Then again, maybe Youngjae wants Hanjin to feel alone right now. Maybe he wants Hanjin to hurt, the way he’s made him hurt. Isn’t it only fair, after Hanjin threw everything they had away, just as Youngjae was beginning to hope it could become something more? Doesn’t Youngjae deserve some sort of vindication after all he’s been through?
Youngjae rolls onto his side and resists the urge to scream into his pillow.
God, what is
happening
to him? Thinking about Hanjin always makes Youngjae’s stomach twist itself into knots, even under the best of circumstances, and it’s only gotten a thousand times worse now that he has a choice to make. Does he wake Hanjin up and bare his bruised and bloodied heart, or does he lie awake and torture himself, this night and countless nights after, until the sun comes up just to mock his suffering?
A break in the silence—a soft cry in the dark—and Hanjin decides for him.
Youngjae knows immediately that Hanjin is having a nightmare, just from the quickening of his breath, the small, distressed whimpers and sobs that cut through the silence. His body reacts immediately, automatically. He physically can’t stand by and let Hanjin suffer.
In a heartbeat, Youngjae is up and striding across the room, then sitting on the edge of Hanjin’s bed. He doesn’t hesitate before placing his hands on the younger boy’s shoulders and softly shaking him awake.
Despite how gentle Youngjae tried to be, Hanjin wakes with a violent, shuddering gasp. His wide, dark eyes dart about frantically, like a wounded animal backed into a corner. Youngjae moves to hold Hanjin’s face, hoping to ground him.
“Shhh, jagiya, it’s all right. You’re safe,” he murmurs. “You’re safe. I’m here.”
For a moment, Hanjin doesn’t seem to recognize him, eyes unfocused and glassy. Then his gaze sharpens, even as his breathing continues to accelerate, rapidly spiraling into hyperventilation.
Youngjae pulls Hanjin upright and hugs him tightly. The younger boy trembles in his arms, seemingly still mentally trapped in whatever hell Youngjae woke him from.
“I need you to breathe with me, baby. Follow my lead.”
Youngjae spends the next fifteen minutes guiding Hanjin through a breathing exercise, never allowing his grip on the smaller boy to falter, even for a moment. He knows from experience that Hanjin needs pressure to ground him, so that’s what he provides.
Only when the younger boy’s breathing has slowed enough that he no longer fears oxygen deprivation does Youngjae broach the question that’s been eating away at him all this time.
“Jinie. Can I hold you?”
Hanjin shudders, but doesn’t pull away.
“Please,” he answers in a raw, hoarse voice.
Youngjae nods, and carefully maneuvers himself so that he and Hanjin are both under the covers. He doesn’t dare let go of Hanjin in the process, even if it makes the movement substantially more awkward.
“Better, baby?”
Hanjin doesn’t respond verbally, just burrows further into Youngjae’s embrace, hiding his face.
“Jagiya?” Youngjae tries again, lowering his voice even further. This time, it works.
“You weren’t there,” Hanjin whispers into his chest, after a long pause.
“I’m right here, Jinie.”
“No, I mean you weren’t—you weren’t
there
, in my dream.”
Youngjae’s heart feels a little bit tighter after that statement. His grip on the younger boy tightens, just a little.
“Oh. Am I usually?”
Even in the dark, the flush spreading across Hanjin’s face is obvious from the heat Youngjae feels pressed against his t-shirt.
“I don’t know. Yes? I was—I was in the water again, and lately you’ve been there to pull me out, but…”
“But I wasn’t this time,” Youngjae finishes for him. His heart breaks a little as he says it.
Hanjin nods minutely, and the two boys fall into silence.
Youngjae tries to just sit with the moment, focusing on the slow rhythm of Hanjin’s breathing, but he can’t get the younger boy’s admission out of his head.
Does it mean what he thinks it means? That he makes Hanjin feel just as safe as the reverse? That the loss of Youngjae, even in a dream, is indistinguishable from the loss of life?
In an attempt to stop his imagination from running away from him, Youngjae pulls away slightly and tilts up Hanjin’s chin to see his face. In the small shaft of moonlight streaming in through the window, he can just make out that the younger boy’s dark eyes are still shining with leftover tears, his cheeks raw and pink from crying.
“Hyung?” Hanjin murmurs uncertainly. “What is it?”
“Hanjin-ah, I—I wanted to tell you…”
Kiss him
, Youngjae’s mind screams.
This is your chance.
He can’t, can he? He’d be risking everything. Isn’t it better to assess the situation further, to be caref—
Stop being a fucking coward already. Kiss him.
So Youngjae does. And for one beautiful moment, the whole world stands still.