Work Text
YoungJae’s grip on his iced americano tightened as the café door swung open. The little bell on the door rang cheerfully, but the person stepping inside was anything but small.
Junhong.
Bigger, broader, and
unfairly attractive
.
His military service had turned the once lanky maknae into a full-fledged titan. His training had added muscle to his already towering frame, and the confident way he carried himself now made it impossible to ignore.
YoungJae immediately regretted coming.
Junhong spotted him instantly, his face lighting up in that familiar, wide grin. "Hyung!"
Before YoungJae could even react, Junhong was moving towards him—fast. Instinctively, he took a step back, only to be enveloped in a very firm, very muscular hug.
“W-what the hell did they feed you in there?” YoungJae stammered, his voice muffled against Junhong’s solid chest.
Junhong pulled back with a smirk. "Nothing special. I just worked out a lot."
YoungJae scoffed, trying not to stare at Junhong’s biceps as he rolled up his sleeves. He was
not
about to let this get to him. “Aish. You’re just showing off now.”
Junhong laughed and plopped down across from him, taking a sip of YoungJae’s drink without asking. “You missed me, right?”
YoungJae snatched his cup back trying to fight back a smile. “Not if you keep stealing my coffee.”
For the next week, YoungJae made it his personal mission to avoid standing too close to Junhong while they were in meetings and dance practice. It was bad enough that his
little
dongsaeng was now a giant—he didn’t need photographic evidence to remind him of it. Not to mention the way his heart skipped a bit every time the younger was next to him made him a blabbering mess.
But Junhong was no fool. He noticed every dodge, every last-minute change in group photos, every excuse YoungJae made when someone suggested taking a picture.
It wasn’t until his best friend, Daehyun, caught on that YoungJae realized he was in trouble.
“You’re acting weird around Junhong,” Daehyun said, watching as YoungJae
physically
moved to the other side of the room when Junhong walked in. “You like him or something?” Daehyun was half joking, half trying to get his friend's head out of his ass.
YoungJae choked on his drink.
“What?! N-no! He's just too big!"
Junhong, overhearing, smirked and leaned down next to him, way too close. “Too big for what, hyung?”
YoungJae felt the heat crawl up his neck. He turned around, face red, eyes trying to pull a glare but failing miserably. “T-too big to be human! You look ridiculous.”
Junhong just chuckled and ruffled YoungJae’s hair. “Whatever you say, hyung”
Junhong, of course,
did not
let it go. Instead, he made it worse.
He stood unnecessarily close whenever they talked, far more than needed. He started taking sneaky pictures of YoungJae—mid-eye roll, caught in a glare, or side-eyeing Junhong’s ridiculous body.
And then he posted them on his instagram.
“Hyung’s still in denial,” the captions read. And while for everyone else it was a joke about their size difference, YoungJae knew Junhong wasn't an idiot and was calling out his cowardice.
Still, YoungJae retaliated with old pictures from before Junhong’s military service, captioning them with: *“This is the only Junhong I acknowledge.” He posted it while he was in a coffee shop catching up with his friend.
Daehyun was entertained, to say the least, and of course, added fuel to the fire. “YoungJae, you’re blushing.”
He definitely was not.
YoungJae threw a napkin at Daehyun's face and kept sulking.
The final straw came a month after Junhong's discharge, at a reunion dinner, the comeback preparations were in full swing. As usual, YoungJae expertly dodged every attempt to stand near Junhong for photos. But this time, Junhong wasn’t having it.
As the group gathered for a picture, YoungJae was about to move to the other side of the frame when
Junhong grabbed his wrist.
YoungJae’s heart skipped a beat. “Yah—”
“Hyung, stop running from me.” YoungJae was frozen in place, the determined look in Junhong's eyes told him he didn't mean just running from pictures but from
him
The room was loud with laughter, conversations, and clinking glasses, but all YoungJae could hear was Junhong’s voice, low and steady, and his own heartbeat loud in his ears. The warmth of the younger's fingers curled around his wrist.
For once, he didn’t move away.
The picture was taken.
YoungJae barely processed it. He was still staring at Junhong until the younger finally let go. His wrist felt strangely cold afterward.
Later that night, Junhong posted the photo with the caption:
“Hyung finally accepted his fate?.”
YoungJae sat in bed, staring at the post for a long time before, finally, he responded to the story.
“Maybe I should.”
Junhong’s reply came instantly.
“Come over then?”
YoungJae let out a breath, his heart pounding as he reached for his jacket and his car's keys.
YoungJae stood outside Junhong’s apartment, the night air cool against his flushed skin. He raised a hesitant fist to knock, but before he could, the door swung open.
Junhong leaned against the frame, arms crossed, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You actually came.”
YoungJae rolled his eyes, trying to play it cool. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Junhong smiled and stepped aside, letting him in. “Too late.”
The atmosphere inside was warm, a big contrast to the nervous energy rolling off YoungJae. The older stepped into the living room, his fingers fidgeting. He hesitated near the couch, feeling a bit vulnerable. But that was until Junhong tugged him forward, pulling him into a hug—firm and steady. It felt like home.
YoungJae sighed against Junhong’s chest, hugging him back. “Are we really doing this, huh?”
Junhong hummed, resting his chin on YoungJae’s head. “Yep.”
A beat of silence passed before YoungJae grumbled, “You’re still too big.”
Junhong chuckled, squeezing him just a little tighter. “And you still fit just fine.”
YoungJae leaned up
slightly
, just enough to press a hesitant, fleeting kiss to Junhong’s jaw before saying, “Shut up.”
Junhong only grinned. “Never.”
YoungJae stayed in the younger’s arms longer than necessary. And maybe, just maybe, he was okay with it.
The end
