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Passed down through his mother’s line, Seungkwan's the only one out of him and his sisters to inherit the gift. His eomma comforted him when he realized at age five, that nobody else was hearing the fragments of thoughts and names he got whenever his father patted his head before leaving for work, or when his sisters pinched his cheeks before school.
It’d been a warm spring morning, and the sunlit kitchen smelled like oranges and kimchi. Seungkwan was holding onto his mother’s hand when he heard her planning out that night’s dinner in her head. She still likes to tease him by retelling how he asked her if they could please have something other than japchae for the fourth time in a week, just because Jinseol noona accidentally bought way too many noodles at the grocery store.
It took a good ten minutes for his mother to explain the difference between thoughts and words, laughing at his scrunched up face. He concluded it was kind of sad, that noona couldn’t hear the answers in appa ’s head when he taught her math, but hey, at least that was something Seungkwan had over his sisters!
“Of course it’d be my Seungkwannie,” his mother said after he figured it out, cupping his round cheeks with both hands. “My kind, sensitive boy. Of course the gift would choose you.”
There are rules, of course. Seungkwan cries a little when eomma tells him that the one exception to his gift are thoughts about himself. He won’t be able to hear his name in his mother’s head, or in his sisters’ thoughts when they’re giggling and brushing their hands over his forehead to put tacky hair clips in his bangs.
It's not fair . He knows everyone else in his family thinks constantly about each other: His father always thinks about his mother’s perfume when Seungkwan wedges himself between them to watch the evening weather report on their couch, and his mother always spends some time in the evening worrying about his sisters’ schoolwork, how their grades are doing, whether they’re happy when they get home. The only person he’ll ever be unsure of is himself .
“Ah, but Seungkwannie, let me ask you this, sweetheart,” his mother said, “do you know if I love appa ?” Yes, of course the answer is yes, and Seungkwan confusedly asks why she’d even question it.
“Mm, but your father and sisters can’t hear our thoughts. The rest of the world don’t have our gift, Seungkwan-ah, but appa knows I love him as much as he loves me, all without knowing when and what I’m thinking of him. People find their friends and loved ones all on their own. Trust the silence, sweetheart. Trust that when you’re holding hands with the person for you one day, they’re loving you and thinking of you in the silence.”
It’s a good explanation; it releases the knot of anxiety in Seungkwan’s chest like a warm bowl of guk after getting out of Jeju’s winter. He holds his mother’s words close to his heart as he grows up, nestled in the back of his mind like the smell of orange peel hands and salty ocean wind.
When Seungkwan starts elementary school, he gets into the habit of holding his mother’s hand after a long day navigating through dozens upon dozens of voices and thoughts, each treasuring the momentary silence in their heads, standing barefoot side by side on the kitchen tiles.
Then he goes and chases his lifelong dream of becoming a singer, gets into Pledis, and silence becomes something of a distant memory.
Beyond the expected ruckus of thirty-something trainees trapped in a single dorm and a handful of melona-green practice rooms, they’re all so tactile . It’s a survival instinct, born out of the shared experience of being away from their families for the first time, the faraway promise of debut more entangled in their thoughts and bodies every single day.
He gets to the eye-wateringly green practice room on his first day, and within an hour he’s reeling from how many new faces and thoughts are colliding at random with him. It’s not like middle school, where at least he could keep to himself, or hang out with just his close friends. Here, there are choreographies to learn, vocal techniques to master, and the ever-painful process of physically shoving through thirty teenage boys for ten minutes in the tiny shower at the end of the day. There are sweaty limbs and prying fingers everywhere, the desperate need for something to ground them in the mad chase for survival sticking each trainee together, a mismatched chimera of aching muscles and the terrified beat of their hearts.
Seungkwan is good with people, a natural performer. It’s what everyone back home has told him from the second he listened to a Wonder Girl’s song and fell head over heels with music. Extroverted, kind, observant. It doesn’t really make the transition easier.
He sucks it up after the first month of wearing long-sleeved pajamas just to fall asleep in the privacy of his own mind and one pathetic phone call back home, where he basically cried into his mother’s ear for fifteen minutes.
It takes another two months, but Seungkwan finds his friends there, learns their anxieties as intimately as their own through the course of exhausting late-night practices, and tells himself that he will carve a place in this world. His gift will not turn into a curse, not if he can help it.
The oldest trainees baby him, ruffling his hair and giving him messy side hugs during lives, praising their new kid’s voice and how funny he is. Seungkwan plays along and hears Seungcheol’s obsessive tracking of where everyone is, what he can do, what he should be doing for any of the kids running around the room. Soonyoung, who’s the touchiest out of all of them, nudging Seungkwan’s limbs into place as they get new choreography drilled into them every other day. Seungkwan hears the beats Soonyoung keeps careful track of in his head, a steel trap around any dance sequence he’s given, and the desperation, the burning desire for bigger, better, best .
He quickly gets pushed up to the highest level vocal class with the encouragement of their teachers, and gets to know Jihoon. Jihoon, who barely shows any outward signs of worry, but thinks himself into circles about production software, writing, and the debut that he and Seungcheol have already been chasing for two years. There’s always a stray melody in his head.
Everyone except for Seungcheol is kind of terrified of Jihoon, but Seungkwan manages to cement himself as a reliable presence at Jihoon’s side. The first time he gets asked to sing a guide for some song Jihoon’s working on, he beams with pride, and gets told off for sounding too happy for the ballad’s lyrics.
“Sorry, hyung,” he apologizes, throwing some aegyo into his voice as he clutches at Jihoon’s hand. There’s silence in Jihoon’s mind, but he smiles at Seungkwan and tells him to refocus.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Mingyu whines a few days after that, throwing his gangly limbs all over Seungkwan’s lap one night. They’re enjoying the five minute break Soonyoung has allowed them. Seungkwan makes a face at how damp Mingyu is.
“Jihoon hyung is so scary, but you’re like, smiling when you greet him, and he smiles back . I thought he only did that for Seungcheol hyung.”
“Yeah, well, maybe it’s because I don’t put my disgusting, sweaty head in the hyungs’ laps, Kim Mingyu,” Seungkwan retorts. Mingyu laughs and rolls over to clutch onto Seungkwan’s waist like a really gross, abnormally tall koala. Seungkwan ignores the remaining thoughts in Mingyu’s head about how scary and smart Jihoon is, and sets to jabbing his elbows into Mingyu’s side. Growing up with older sisters gave him some very specific skills, like where to pinch to make Mingyu yelp and finally roll off of him.
“Yah, stop wrestling, you two,” Soonyoung calls, “If either of you break an ankle before we memorize the footwork for this song, I’ll kick both your asses. Got it?”
There’s also the interesting experience of getting called hyung by the kids in the practice room. Chan, thirteen and staring with shining eyes at Soonyoung, and Samuel, who evokes the same cuteness aggression in Seungkwan as he had for the stray cats near his school in Jeju. Samuel’s thoughts are cute and exactly what you’d expect from a kid: a mix of admiration for Seungcheol and fear of that one terrifying rap coach all of them dread taking classes with.
Chan and Seungkwan bicker so much that Seungkwan doesn’t really hear, or care to hear what Chan is thinking, but he notes down how much Soonyoung occupies his thoughts on the rare moments they’re sitting together peacefully on the practice room floor, too tired to argue. It confirms a few things in Seungkwan’s own head, though, suspicions about his own lingering eyes when Seungcheol is doing that stupid thing where he flirts indiscriminately with Jihoon and Wonwoo and the handful of girls training with them, or Mingyu’s well, everything. He keeps his eye out for Chan. If he’s going to be a hyung, even for this annoying kid, he’ll do it right.
He doesn’t need Chan’s cute crush on Soonyoung to figure himself out, anyway. He’s got Hansol for that. Hansol, who is funny and wrestles with Samuel and speaks fluent English and looks at Seungkwan gratefully the first time he tells one of the trainees off for asking weird invasive questions about his family. Hansol, who is already handsome even though he and Seungkwan are only a month apart.
Seungkwan has baby fat rounding out his cheeks still, but Hansol is the one who gets almost as much attention from girls as Seungcheol does, thanks to his movie-star bone structure and big, dark eyes. Seungkwan cannot fucking believe it when Hansol tells him he used to get made fun of for his mixed genes.
He also scoffs when Hansol tells him he’s pretty too. Seungkwan knows exactly where they fall on the attractiveness scale, thanks. It’s a shame he can’t get confirmation that Hansol’s just fucking with him when he pokes Hansol’s cheek, though.
“Hey, you’re still the one who has all the hyungs around your thumb, Boo,” Hansol says. Mingyu makes a vague sound of agreement from where he’s lying facedown on the floor beside them. Ugh, teenage boys are disgusting. “ And all the vocal coaches are obsessed with you, while I’m dealing with the scary rap ssaem.”
“I guess,” Seungkwan concedes begrudgingly. He is kind of proud of how close he is to their teachers. “But come on, you’ve been on TV programs and everything, I just have that traumatic memory of dancing on a variety show when I was like, eight.”
“Please, my stint on TV programs is also painful to watch back,” Hansol snorts, “my dad loves embarrassing me with them.” Seungkwan disagrees, he found kid-Hansol endearing even if he couldn’t understand his English. Hansol’s thoughts are also peaceful in comparison to everyone else. Seungkwan gets a lot of silence and the occasional thought of his baby sister. It’s cute, and endearing, and more importantly Seungkwan can lean into Hansol’s side during their breaks without having to worry about skin-to-skin contact interrupting a nap. They stick together like a pair of barnacles. Chan’s words, not his.
(Of course, he thinks of the silence and his conversation with his mother all those years ago, but Seungkwan thinks Hansol is probably just zoning out. He talks animatedly enough for the camera, but prefers to stay out of the offscreen squabbling in favor of sticking in his earbuds and closing his eyes. Seungkwan’s not even sure Hansol likes boys, anyway.)
A year passes, inching upon two. More hyungs join and find their place in their closed off world of green walls and noisy dorms. Junhui is quieter than most, and Seungkwan can’t get anything out of the mess of Chinese in his head, but he eats the breakfast that his hyung makes and feels Jun’s affection for him anyway. Trusts the silence.
Then, Joshua and Jeonghan arrive within two months of each other, both in the same year as Seungcheol. Maybe two of the most important pieces in the puzzle that is Seventeen. (The word has been changed a few times by the company, but they’ve settled on this one for a good few months. Seungkwan wraps the English around his tongue. It’s a name for the dream he’s chasing.)
Seungcheol doesn’t say it, but he’s happy to have two same-age friends. Fond of Joshua immediately, and when Jeonghan joins in December, his thoughts get all mushy and flustered whenever they make eye contact. Seungkwan thinks it’s hilarious, and points out the heart eyes to Chan, the one person he’s sure of telling stuff like that to.
Joshua is interesting. He’s casted into Pledis well after Seungkwan's made himself comfortable with everyone, so he overhears everything the trainees whisper about Joshua the day before he arrives. The street casted trainee, all the way from America . Hansol doesn’t think of it as much as Soonyoung or Mingyu, but Seungkwan can tell he’s curious. He’s told Seungkwan he feels more Korean than American, all things considered, but the arrival of a fellow countryman would pique anyone’s interest.
Seungkwan’s parents raised him to be polite enough not to immediately go touching the new, pretty-faced hyung on his first day in their little Melona prison, as Soonyoung has so delicately worded it, but he can see the vague discomfort simmering under Jisoo ’s careful smile even from a distance. He gives it a few hours, gets into a loud scuffle with Seokmin and Mingyu for the camera where he hears both of their unspoken burning questions for the new kid, and then introduces himself privately after the live ends for the day.
“Hi, I’m Seungkwan,” he says, then repeats it in the English he forced Hansol to teach him the night before. Holds out his hand for Joshua to shake.
And oh, Joshua is American . Not in the way Hansol is, this is someone completely new. Hansol’s thoughts sometimes slide from Korean to English phrases Seungkwan tries to remember so he can look them up at the end of the day, but Joshua’s disorientation is clear from the first touch of their hands. Seungkwan can’t help but feel bad when he hears his new hyung reaching for Korean that isn’t within reach yet. Joshua introduces himself back as Jisoo, but Seungkwan can already feel the way he thinks and sings and dreams in English, like Junhui’s mess of Mandarin and Cantonese when he first arrived. A fish so far out of water that he’s visibly drowning in the unfamiliar Seoul air.
(Junhui is currently getting taught curse words by Soonyoung somewhere so he can keep up with their bickering, much to Seungcheol’s chagrin. Their leader is less worried about the swearing, and more about the cameras.
“ Only in the dorms, please,” he’d stressed as Soonyoung was giggling and dragging Jun into an empty room.)
Seungkwan does the one thing he knows will help, and pulls Hansol by the wrist towards Joshua, noting Hansol's brief observation of California before Joshua registers the English and visibly relaxes, shooting Seungkwan a grateful look. Joshua sticks close to Hansol and Samuel on most days, which means he sticks close to Seungkwan as well. There’s some words that Seungkwan picks up on from all the times he hears them in Joshua’s head, home and mom and friends .
Jeonghan, on the other hand, arrives in the Pledis company building and instantly shakes up their world. Especially Seungcheol’s.
Seungkwan is as intimidated as anyone else in the first week at how pretty Jeonghan is, big eyes and high nose with his dry humor and crackly voice. He gets nicknamed angel almost immediately after everyone finds out his birth date, and it fits him.
Jeonghan quickly attaches himself to Joshua’s side, and his slow, unbothered way of speaking is clearly a break from the rest of the group’s breakneck arguing for the latter. They make sense together, just as much of a pair as Seungkwan and Hansol are. Jeonghan dotes on the younger trainees as well, despite the year’s difference between their familiarity with each other.
It’s almost a comfort when Jeonghan slumps next to Seungkwan after yet another night of dance practice, their fingertips brushing, and Seungkwan hears Jeonghan’s inner monologue about how he’s keeping up, how much he has to learn, and whether he’ll survive.
Seungkwan has long learned that under all of their rehearsed smiles, the same unforgiving knot of fear is tying them to another hour in front of the dance studio mirror, or another vocal lesson, and to not trust outward appearances. He’s still selfishly glad to know , though, that even this pretty new hyung who gets Joshua laughing so easily and has Seungcheol making moon eyes over him worries just as Seungkwan does. Not an angel, just another teenage boy kicking his feet frantically under the water to stay afloat.
“Seungkwan-ah, good job earlier. Don’t worry, we’ll practice the choreo together, hm?” Jeonghan says, smiling tiredly at him. His hair falls wetly across his forehead. Seungkwan nods.
“Yeah, of course, hyung.” Hansol sits down beside them then, mumbling a greeting to Jeonghan. He says nothing when Seungkwan automatically shifts to lean his head on Hansol’s bare shoulder. He’s wearing a tank top because the air-con broke last week, and all of them have, miserably, had to deal with it because the company is doing badly financially again. Hansol says nothing, and Seungkwan can’t hear any thoughts from him either, just the sound of their shared breathing, in and out.
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
2022
Concerts are fun and fulfilling and easily in Seungkwan’s top three favorite parts of his job as an idol. Concert rehearsals , on the other hand, are a punishment sent from whatever devil Kwon Soonyoung made a deal with in exchange for his inhuman stamina.
It’s nearing one in the morning, which is the third day in a row they’ve pushed practice into the depths of the night. Minghao’s basically a puddle on the floor, cheek pressed against the wood when usually, he’d think of how their shoes have been all over that floor. That’s how exhausted they are, dermatologists’ advice overridden in favor of becoming one with the floor. At least the floor can’t be dragged up by a certain hyung to run through fucking Rock With You for the fifteenth time. Seungkwan would maim Soonyoung if he could still feel his legs.
“You good, Boo?” Hansol asks. Seungkwan grunts at him from his unflattering sprawl on the floor. It’s too late of an hour to worry about appearances, and the Inside Seventeen camera stopped filming an hour ago, anyway.
Hansol chuckles and sets down a water bottle next to Seungkwan’s head. “Yeah, dumb question. Drink some water, at least.” He walks off to peel Minghao off the floor, another water bottle tucked into his elbow.
He’s wearing one of his dorky polo shirts, because only Chwe Hansol would not think anything of wearing a polo shirt to dance practice on a filming day, and still look kind of good. God, Seungkwan’s stupid crush of ten years is so lame. He should tell Jeonghan about it when they get home later for the fifth time, just because.
The water turns out to be an electrolyte drink, and Seungkwan manages to sit back up after a long sip from the bottle and take stock of the rest of the group.
Hansol is talking Minghao into getting up, Soonyoung is miraculously still dancing, and Chan, bless his gay little heart, is dutifully sitting cross legged and monitoring their hyung. Jeonghan is fully sitting in Seungcheol’s lap because they’re gross and in love. He is absolutely not thinking that out of jealousy, or whatever.
In the corner of his eye, Hansol ruffles Minghao’s sweat-soaked hair with one of his giggles reserved for private moments away from the camera. Seungkwan turns away.
“You good, Junnie hyung?” Seungkwan asks, mirroring Hansol’s question to him. He taps Jun’s knee, which is poking out from ripped jeans that are significantly more distressed than they were when practice started six hours ago. Jun mumbles something like an affirmative, but his thoughts are more of a continuous loop of I want to go home, Kwon Soonyoung . Relatable.
“I’ll try to talk Hoshi hyung down later, don’t worry,” Seungkwan assures. He’s almost entirely sure Soonyoung is in one of his spirals where he talks himself into thinking they haven’t perfected their performance enough for the fans. It’s annoying as hell to deal with, but Seungkwan is a little more inclined to try and help because he hears the kind of obsessive thoughts that wriggle into his hyung’s head. Self-destructive perfectionism is basically drilled into their psyches, whether it be Soonyoung’s iron fist during practice, Seungkwan’s dozens of takes in the recording booth, or Jihoon’s hours spent in his studio.
“Love you, Kwannie,” Jun mumbles in Chinese. Seungkwan returns the sentiment and moves on to sit next to Chan.
“Aren’t you tired?”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“We should probably tell hyung to give it a rest for the day.” Chan looks at him like he’s stupid.
“The fuck do you mean, we ? Go beg Seungcheol hyung to do it. I’m like, in love with him, and even I’m not stupid enough to tell him to go home when he’s like this.” Seungkwan rolls his eyes. Brat. Also coward.
Fine, he’ll do it himself. Seungcheol’s busy being distracted by Jeonghan batting his eyes at him, and Seungkwan knows their leader hates pulling rank on Soonyoung.
“Hyung.” Soonyoung pulls out of a spin to look at him. “Isn’t it time to call it a night? Look at Minghao hyung; we’re all getting tired.”
“The last chorus,” Soonyoung says, frowning, “I wanna make sure we have all our positions down, cause they’re saying it might rain at the show next week, and I don’t want people slipping.” Ugh. That’s a legitimately good reason to practice, but:
“Nobody’s gonna be remembering their positions right now, hyung, we can barely move. You know that,” Seungkwan points out, tugging on Soonyoung’s sleeve for him to sit down. Chan, for all his dismissal of Seungkwan, shuffles closer to Soonyoung immediately. Brat . Making his hyung do all the work for him.
Seungkwan touches Soonyoung’s wrist lightly. As expected, he is worrying about the last chorus, but also that complicated little set of footwork during the bridge. A few of the members are dealing with foot injuries, Seungkwan’s own ankle included, and Soonyoung is trying to decide whether he wants to make them practice it just to be sure everyone’s comfortable with the movement, or letting them rest.
“Hey, stop worrying about footwork or whatever you’re thinking of, hyung,” Seungkwan says casually. “We’ve all got it down. Come on, we’re seniors by now, everyone here knows how to dance without injuring themselves.” And, because he does really want to go home already—
“—And think of my ankle, won’t you, hyung? Let’s rest already. Don’t we have a GoSe sports shoot tomorrow?” Soonyoung’s thoughts flick worriedly from silence to the various sprains and pulled muscles evidenced by the sports tape lying around the tables. Seungkwan feels the need to reassure him.
“Like, I feel okay right now, but I don’t want to push it into hurting again, you know?” After a second, Soonyoung sighs, and nods. Behind him, Chan is shooting Seungkwan a wide eyed look, clearly asking how the hell he did that. Ha . Never doubt him again, Lee Chan.
He does kind of ruin his victory when he sticks his tongue out childishly at Chan, but he digresses.
Jun cheers and drapes himself all over Seungkwan when Soonyoung finally announces that they can go thirty seconds later, mumbling thank yous into his shoulder. He runs off to join Minghao in the first car back to the dorm, and Hansol replaces him immediately at Seungkwan’s shoulder, hooking his chin so Seungkwan can smell his cologne and the sweat they’ve basically been swimming in since ten PM.
“You’re like, a superhero, Boo,” Hansol says, low and happy. Seungkwan resists the shiver that runs through his back at how his voice tickles his left ear. They’re facing the mirror, and he sees the little smile Hansol has on his face after he makes eye contact with his reflection. One of Hansol’s hands come to rest on Seungkwan’s hip, burning a mark through the denim of his jeans.
“Kwan-ah, let’s go,” Jeonghan calls from across the room. Hansol doesn’t let go for a moment, instead wrapping both arms around Seungkwan’s torso, where the shirt rides up a little. He’s thinking of food, mostly, and bed, and then his thoughts fall quiet.
“Good job today, Boo,” Hansol says quietly. His eyes trail slowly up Seungkwan’s body. There’s not much to see. He's in one of his ratty, stretched out t-shirts designated to “horrible late night dance practice” status. He might’ve stolen it from Hansol a few years ago, actually.
The point is, he’s in old clothes and worn-down volleyball shoes, his hair’s plastered to the back of his neck and his forehead, and yet. Hansol’s gaze seemingly snags on the sliver of collarbone visible above his shirt’s sagging neckline. It’s too much, too intense, in a room full of backup dancers and managers and phones. Seungkwan has to get out of here before he starts thinking bad, overly-optimistic thoughts. Hansol’s head gives him no clue, as usual, but now the silence seems twice as suffocating. Seungkwan wants , but:
“Going to let me go?”
“Maybe.” Even without looking, he can hear Hansol’s smile.
“Better do it before Jeonghan hyung gets mad at me.”
“Boo Seungkwan, come on ,” Jeonghan supplies, helpfully. Hansol sighs against the back of Seungkwan’s neck, cool air on damp skin.
“See you tomorrow, Boo,” he says simply, untangling himself and squeezing Seungkwan’s hand. His hand is warm, slightly callused. Seungkwan doesn’t know why the fuck he’s fixated on that; he’s held Hansol’s hand more times than he can count, on and off camera.
Jeonghan squints at him suspiciously as they shuffle down the hallway to the elevator. “If I were less tired, I would ask about why the fuck you two were cuddling, but luckily for you, Boo Seungkwan, I need to be horizontal to match my current state of corpse ,” he says slowly.
Seungcheol, who’s in the elevator with them mostly to hold Jeonghan upright, rolls his eyes fondly. Seungkwan hates gay people who are in love. Jeonghan leans against Seungcheol like a limp worm and looks at him smugly.
I will take up this topic again tomorrow morning , Jeonghan thinks in his direction when they’re piled into the car with Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seokmin.
Seungkwan tugs his arm out of his hyung’s cold fingers with an eye roll. Jeonghan, the chronic cheater he is, figured out the loophole of wording his thoughts just vaguely enough for Seungkwan to hear ages ago, and regularly abuses it.
“Go sleep on your boyfriend’s chest, or whatever,” he snipes. It’s a horrible comeback, really, could honestly count as a compliment, but in Seungkwan’s defense, he’s tired and horrendously single, and Hansol’s thrown another loop at his heart. He can be excused for one lame retort.
Seungkwan gets home, takes a piping hot shower, slaps on his moisturizer. Sleeps a good eight hours, wakes up, goes for a run, and then gets back to the dorm to find Jeonghan making good on his threat from the night before. Trust Yoon Jeonghan to wake up from ten hours of sleep and immediately set about making Seungkwan’s life difficult, instead of something normal, like calling his boyfriend. Seungkwan has eleven notifications from the top secret group chat to deal with because Jeonghan is incapable of letting something go.
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
So yes, there are some members who know. Specifically, everyone in the top secret, highly exclusive, invite-only gossip group chat. Jeonghan, Joshua, Minghao, and Mingyu. The last time they gained a new member was Minghao in 2017, actually, because he’d noticed Seungkwan’s uncanny ability to anticipate his thoughts and was convinced he’d gained fortune telling abilities. Minghao is also one of the members with the ability to fade into the background of a dramatic fight but be nosy enough to remember all the important details, so.
The group chat is important . There is highly sensitive information going through that chat at all hours. They consistently manage to get gossip tidbits an average of five days before the rest of the group does. It is quite literally the only group chat Joshua is active in.
Seungkwan holds the esteemed title of being the number one contributor to their cannon fodder for every single year the chat has existed, and he’s not planning on giving up that title anytime soon. Jeonghan and Joshua are currently vying for the title of “who can personally victimize Seungkwan for their own entertainment most frequently.”
untitled group chat
jjong jjong 👼 (11:04 AM)
guess who was cuddling with seungkwannie after last night’s hell practice
hmm 🐻❄️
shua 💞 (11:04 AM)
oh??
seungkwannie where are you
I want details seungkwan
seungkwan
!!
hao hao (11:08 AM)
why are you two awake enough for emojis and exclamation points
but also
seungkwan get over here now
kimja (11:10 AM)
you two should just kiss!! like I just spent twenty minutes doing with wonwoo hyung!!
boo🐻 has changed jjong jjong 👼’s display name to nosy bitch 👼
shua 💞 has changed their display name to nosy bitch #2
boo 🐻 (11:19 AM)
I hate you all so much
kim mingyu you better not be thinking gross thoughts about hyung when i see you this afternoon!!
kimja (11:19 AM)
ur just mad I get to make out with someone in bed and u don’t!!
Seungkwan hears an audible snort of laughter from the open door to Jeonghan’s room and debates going in there to give his hyung a good kick. He’s still fired up from his jog, he could make it hurt.
hao hao (11:21 AM)
I’m still waiting for details seungkwan
nosy bitch #2 (11:21 AM)
^^what he said!!
boo 🐻 (11:22 AM)
there’s nothing to say…
nosy bitch 👼 (11:23 AM)
lies I saw you two making fuck me eyes at each other.
gay!
boo 🐻 (11:24 AM)
you suck and I’m outing you as mafia the next time we play
idk he just came over to say thank you for talking hoshi hyung out of his pre-tour spiral
and then he just put his arms around me
and didn’t say anything
god
hao hao (11:27 AM)
you two are so dumb it makes me feel depressed
nosy bitch #2 (11:28 AM)
^^what he said
seriously seungkwan I don’t check this chat just to hear about you refusing to act on your gay ass crush
boo 🐻 (11:29 AM)
well fuck you too!!
“Seungkwan-ah, I left my coffee on the kitchen table,” Jeonghan calls. There are two gently steaming cups of fresh coffee, one with milk and the other black. Seungkwan sighs and takes a sip of the former before picking up both mugs to head to Jeonghan’s room. He only drinks black coffee when it’s an iced Americano, like a normal person. Jeonghan likes his coffee black and hot, because he’s some sort of strange gay creature sent to annoy Seungkwan and drink coffee that tastes like hot garbage.
Jeonghan is laid out like an octopus on his bed. The bed is made, even though he clearly just woke up twenty minutes ago, because Jeonghan liked how hotel bedding felt enough to learn exactly how to make his bed like hotel housekeeping does a couple of years ago, purely so he can recreate the sensation of flopping onto tightly tucked sheets.
“Thank you,” he says sweetly when Seungkwan hands him his coffee. Blatantly pretending he didn’t initiate another round of “let’s shame Boo Seungkwan for being gay and allergic to communication” in the group chat. They might be right, but Seungkwan doesn’t have to like it, and he doesn’t have to listen to them.
“Anyway, tell me what you’re actually thinking,” Jeonghan says, wriggling into a crossed legged position. Seungkwan sits on the end of the bed and stares at Jeonghan’s duck-patterned socks.
“I know you’re gonna tell me that the hug meant something,” he starts. Jeonghan scoffs.
“Well, no fucking shit.”
“And it didn’t! We cuddle all the time as well, it doesn’t mean he’s in love with m—”
“Seungkwan-ah, Vernonie is literally the only one allowed to touch you like that. If anyone else hugged him while sweaty and nasty, he’d make his disgusted face and shove them off. And if anyone else hugged you like that, you wouldn’t let them do it long enough to be gross and smiley.”
Seungkwan hates it when Jeonghan is right, specifically. He has such a way of laying everything out so it looks painfully, stupidly obvious, which is good for resolving fights, but not when Seungkwan feels like his whole existence is being dissected and spread out on the bed. It never feels that obvious in his own head, and he’s spent so long acting from his own thoughts and impulses. Jeonghan drags him out of the dark with a few well-chosen words and he instinctively cowers, sensitive to the glaring light directed at the section of his heart tied permanently to Hansol. An open heart surgery demonstration of all the ways Seungkwan has allowed Hansol to seep into his veins.
“Kwan-ah, come on,” Jeonghan tilts Seungkwan’s head toward him with two fingers. “I don’t actually have to tell you any of this, because you have it, somewhere in that noisy head of yours. You spend so much time listening to the rest of us that you don’t ever listen to yourself anymore. Stop taking Hansol’s silence for a no.”
“I’m not,” Seungkwan protests, but it sounds hollow even to his own ears. “Hansollie is already my best friend. What more could I ask for?” Jeonghan frowns at him.
They both know what Seungkwan wants, has wanted so desperately for ten years. His two goals as a trainee were the stage and Hansol. He has one of them already. Who is he, to be so greedy as to reach for both of his childhood dreams, when he has built a full life already, and even gotten to keep Hansol within reach of his heart? Who is he, to think he could shake the foundations of what he has and make it out unscathed?
“Be happy, Seungkwannie,” Jeonghan sighs, patting his cheek when he gets up. “Come on, then. Manager-nim’s gonna be here in half an hour.”
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
If there’s one area of idol life where Seungkwan is absolutely glad for his gift, it’s variety. He was fucking designed for variety. The darling of every program and talk show he’s ever been to; the perfect guest— funny, engaging, but polite. Gives the producers what they want, every single time.
All it takes is a few calculated handshakes with producers and hosts, and he can use the information he has to his advantage. He's had years of practice, honed it to a careful craft. Seungkwan is not the visual of Seventeen. He’s known since the beginning that that title would be Mingyu, or Jeonghan, or Wonwoo’s. He is, however, the best entertainer they have, and that counts for something. He’s not new to this. No longer the rookie of the industry, trying his hardest to learn how to twist himself into a TV-ready personality, the perfect mix of young, fresh, new, respectful, entertaining. Someone to watch for.
They’ve sent most of the group out for some generic variety program. All of the vocal unit, Jun, and Wonwoo. The pitch wasn’t particularly exciting, just the usual schedule of games, interviews, performance. Maybe a little skit if Seungkwan can find a good opening for it, according to the firm handshake he’d given one of the hosts. Usually, they’d pass, but it’s right before their album, and they’re in between tour dates. The woes of having a public image as a star entertainer to keep up.
The shoot started at six in the morning, and frankly neither the hosts nor the games have been very interesting so far. He could hear Joshua’s internal eye roll when they were asked how they were keeping up with working out and dieting in the middle of comeback season. Really, seven years in the goddamn industry, and somehow eighty percent of the interview formats haven’t changed. You’d think the producers would’ve learned at this point.
He can feel his members flagging as the first break is called. Jeonghan is experienced enough to not immediately flop onto the table they’ve been sat behind for the last two hours, but Seungkwan knows he wants to. Even he’s struggling to keep the energy up, where usually he’d be eagerly making everyone on set laugh by now.
“Hang on, hyung,” he sighs. Jeonghan gives him a subtle stink eye. Seungkwan’s not sure if the InSe camera is hanging around the set somewhere, but it doesn’t matter. Where there’s cameras, they behave themselves. First rule of idol life, or whatever.
“They should’ve sent Cheol with us,” Jeonghan sighs, “Me ‘n Wonwoo are about to topple over, seriously, Boo.”
“I don’t see why having Seungcheol hyung here would change that,” Seungkwan replies dryly.
“And that’s where I remember you are tragically, tragically single even if you also wish Hansol were here to do that dumb thing where you two hook your feet together under the table, Seungkwan-ah,” Jeonghan responds cryptically. Beside them, Joshua snorts.
“I literally saw you playing footsie with Cheol yesterday.”
“Shut up, Joshuji.”
The director of the shoot signals for the cameras to start rolling, so Joshua has to rein in his retort and visibly shake himself out of his bitchiness to smile prettily at the camera. Jun quickly reaches over to steal a sip of Seungkwan’s coffee, then sits up properly. Seungkwan is not one of the members who can get away with batting their eyelashes at the camera, so he straightens his shirt, looks over to make sure the members are all back to full attention, and does his job.
It doesn’t get much better. Seungkwan glances over at Seokmin, who’s unsubtly hiding a yawn, and Jun, who genuinely looks like he’s sleeping with his eyes open. Jihoon is so going to refuse to go on interviews for at least six months after this.
“So, another question we’ve heard the fans are dying to know, Seungkwan-ssi,” the host is saying, “Who has been your favorite member lately? Out of everyone in Seventeen. Don’t worry, some of them aren’t here to get offended!”
Seungkwan could bash his head into the wall. Carats absolutely have more burning questions than who his favorite member is, and his members have better things to do than get jealous over an established fact about Seungkwan.
It’s Hansol, obviously. Seungkwan knows that the writing team could know just from an hour of actual research into them, because he’s terrible at not wearing his heart on his sleeve and Hansol is kind enough to catch the stray pieces of Seungkwan’s heart when he fails to remember that they’re not together. It’s Hansol, but Jeonghan and Joshua have matching expressions on their faces like they’re already planning out the lecture they’ll give him in the car if he says it.
Seungkwan’s not stupid , he’s not gonna go gushing about Hansol when Hansol isn’t even here, he’s holed up with Bumzu working on a beat. “Well, it changes depending on my mood, who’s willing to share their food with me, you know?” he says, forcing humor into his tone. The host nods. Ugh, Seungkwan could do a better job hosting this if he were blindfolded and gagged.
“I would say… lately, Junnie hyung has been my favorite,” Seungkwan decides. Jun startles a little. Not enough to show on camera, but Mingyu notices and giggles. Seungkwan sees the cameramen latching onto Mingyu immediately. Ugh, his hyung and his stupidly handsome face. That's probably gonna be their thumbnail picture— Mingyu laughing at Seungkwan’s gay misery.
“Oh? Mingyu-ssi, Jun-ssi, do you have anything to say about that?” Jeonghan touches his hand. Such a fuckin’ liar. I’m shocked.
To Seungkwan’s absolute horror, Jun gets the same idea. “Oh, no, I just wasn’t expecting that answer, ‘cause Seungkwannie has a favorite. it’s not me, though.” Mingyu smirks.
“Yeah, we’ve always thought Seungkwan’s favorite was Vernonie,” he adds. Evil, evil man. See if Seungkwan goes on runs with him again.
He feels everyone’s eyes swivel back to him. It’s fine, he can twist this. The show is begging for drama, for lighthearted bickering. “Okay, Vernon doesn’t count, we’re same-age friends, of course I’m close with him,” he pouts, mock glaring at Jun. “I was just trying to appreciate hyung for taking me out for hot pot last month, but I guess he can go alone next time.”
The ensuing bickering that follows rouses everyone on set, finally. Well done, Boo Seungkwan, he tells himself, they’ve got their viral clip to save the entire interview, and the gossip group chat is going to be at his throat later.
His heart is still protected, though, wrapped up behind his attitude and practiced jokes. The cameras will not get this part of him, too well hidden from the world to show onscreen and make it out alive. Idols can only afford to show so much of their inner lives, because you can only poke so far into their media-trained psyches before the real, intensely competitive, easily hurt, jealous creature still preserved within each of them lashes out, burned one too many times by the forge this industry sharpens them in.
Hansol asks how the show went, naturally. He texts right at one PM, which was the time Seungkwan told him the shoot would wrap up. Seungkwan texts him a vague message, mostly complaining about how terrible the questions were and how tired they all are. He doesn’t mention his little deflection. The others will probably tell Hansol about it, sooner or later.
He’s going to put his phone away and take a nap, but then Hansol is calling him. “Hello?”
“Are you free tonight?” There’s a thumping synth beat playing somewhere on Hansol’s side. He’s speaking in that earnest tone he pulls out for favors, like when he drags Jihoon into the studio to listen to a freshly written rap verse, or when they crash at Mingyu and Wonwoo’s dorm and beg Mingyu to make ramyeon for them. Seungkwan ignores the flush rising in his cheeks at how much this sounds like the opening to getting asked out on a date. He blames the second Americano he’s been nursing. More than likely Hansol just has some track he wants to show Seungkwan before they drag Mingyu and Seokmin out for food.
“Well, yes, I mean, I think I need to drop by the company to film some challenges, and I have a hair appointment but I’ll be free for the day by four. Why?” Seungkwan’s waved into a car with Jihoon, Jun, and Seokmin, tucking his phone against his shoulder to put his seatbelt on while their manager rattles off the rest of their schedules for the day.
“There’s this animated movie I’ve been wanting to watch, and I was thinking, if you’re not too tired, you could come over and watch it with me?” Seungkwan beams, just a little.
“Any occasion? Hansollie hasn’t watched a movie with me in ages ,” he smiles. Jihoon’s head snaps to Seungkwan at the mention of Hansol’s name, but he ignores it.
These days, Hansol watches his films by himself, and then texts long winded reviews into their group chat, but there was a period right after debut where they’d curl up in Seungkwan’s bed and forget about the stress of trying to make it as a risky rookie group by pulling up Studio Ghibli’s filmography.
“You’ve been working so much for the album, Boo,” Hansol says softly, “And I haven’t seen you in a few days. I thought we could relax for the evening, like old times, you know?”
Seungkwan feels like his heart is in his throat when he replies, “Yeah, of course, Hansollie. Come over at six?” He can kick Jeonghan out to go bother Seungcheol or something. It gives him enough time to get home, shower, and order food. Maybe light one of those candles that Hansol likes, the one that smells like laundry.
He hangs up, and braces himself for the stares of the other three. Surprisingly, nothing much happens. Jun is buried in some game on his phone, and while Seokmin definitely heard all of that, he doesn’t say anything. Huh. Maybe Seungkwan’s just developed an automatic defense mechanism from living with Yoon Jeonghan.
Jihoon, though, fixes Seungkwan with a look that’s uncomfortably piercing, like he sees through all of the cheeriness that Seungkwan’s wrapped himself up in. “It's so like you, starting drama for the show and then agreeing to a date with Hansol right after,” he says mildly. Seungkwan feels something hot and embarrassed flare up regardless.
Jun pipes up. “Yeah, honestly, Seungkwannie, I’m hurt. Picking me as your favorite just to go on a movie date with Vernonie after the camera’s off.” Jun mimes crying for a beat, and then turns right back to his game. Seungkwan is relating more and more to Chan’s sentiment of none of his hyungs being useful by the second.
“It’s not a date,” he retorts. Jihoon snorts.
“Okay,” he replies dubiously.
“Hansol’s just being considerate, and we’re just hanging out like we always do,” Seungkwan insists. Seokmin chooses that moment to tune into the conversation, cooing.
“Aw, your old movie nights. We used to joke about how seriously you took them, you know. Seungkwan and Hansol’s little movie dates.” Useless and unhelpful. Jihoon is still looking at him with an unreadable expression. Seungkwan takes a chance, and reaches out to shove his hyung gently.
“Come on, stop being weird. It’s not like you don’t spend just as much time with Hansol in the studio as I do, hyung.” Jihoon frowns.
Chwe Hansol, I hope you know what you’re doing , Seungkwan hears in his head. He shrinks back from Jihoon, confused. Does he know something? Has Hansol told him something?
“I’m glad you’re taking time for yourself,” Jihoon says finally, “And that Hansol’s looking out for you.”
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
“You’re blond” is the first thing Hansol says to him when Seungkwan opens the door to the YoonBoo dorm. He touches a hand automatically to his freshly dyed hair. It’s a little dry, but he’s been getting back into his bleached haircare routine for this. Hansol follows the hand he runs through his hair. His hair is still in its natural brown waves, shoved under a black beanie as always.
“Oh, I forgot you haven’t seen it yet,” he says, “I got it done the day before yesterday for the music video shoot. You like it?” It’s a dumb question, he knows Hansol likes his blond hair. Says he looks like a dandelion every time he gets it bleached.
“Yeah, you look pretty,” Hansol says simply as he takes off his mask, then holds up the plastic bag of takeout. “I brought tteokbokki from that stand near the dorms.”
“Ah, we’re supposed to be on a diet already, remember?” Seungkwan says. He’d glanced out the window wistfully at the food truck an hour ago, actually. The lady running the whole thing is pretty familiar with him, and reminds him of the aunties back home.
“I know you like this the best, Boo, and you look fine. Music video shoot isn’t until next Thursday. Come on, I’ll pull up the movie before this gets cold.” He moves to the sofa in a few quick strides, pulling up Disney Plus. Seungkwan hesitates, then goes to get some tea from the fridge.
The movie turns out to be Turning Red. Seungkwan had seen a few advertisements for it around Seoul, and it’d popped up before his YouTube videos as well. The red pandas are cute; they remind him of Bookeu. Hansol’s wandered into Seungkwan’s room to find a blanket for them both. Well, mostly Seungkwan, who likes to feel comfortable before sitting down to do anything. Hansol has no problem flopping down anywhere, as evidenced by his many random naps during GoSe filming.
They watch with the original audio and Korean captions on. Seungkwan can see pretty quickly why Hansol was interested. He giggles at the opening sequence with the little mom-and-daughter portrait; Minghao and Jun both have childhood photos that look similar, probably from the same year the film was set in, actually.
“2002,” Hansol muses as Mei Mei stomps down the Toronto street. “What were you doing in 2002?”
Seungkwan laughs. “Hanging onto eomma in the kitchen any chance I got and being wildly jealous that my sisters were making friends in first grade already.” It was also the year before he had his gift explained to him, but he’s not about to derail movie night by getting into that. “You?”
“Probably getting really confused, cause we were in the process of moving back to Korea,” Hansol supplies. Seungkwan grins to himself at the image of a four year old Hansol running around New Jersey.
The film pivots into Mei Mei and her friends’ obsession with 4Town, which Seungkwan and Hansol both laugh at. “Oh no, Carats are going to see themselves in this movie,” Seungkwan giggles. He can kind of relate, though, growing up as much of a kpop fan as their fans are now.
They get to the fanart scene, and Seungkwan gasps and blocks out the screen with Hansol’s arm. “ Oh , that would be my worst nightmare, my god,” he mumbles. Hansol turns to look at him, smirking a little.
“What, were you drawing embarrassing art of yourself and the grocery store cashier, or something?” Seungkwan smacks Hansol’s arm.
“Shut up! First of all, you know I can’t draw, and second of all, no . None of them were cute enough for me to notice, anyway,” he says haughtily. Hansol hums consideringly.
“Anyone you find cute enough now?” Seungkwan restrains himself from reacting visibly. Hansol’s gaze is casual, but still burns through the facade Seungkwan’s hiding under.
“... Mingyu hyung,” he says, feeling awfully like he’s reusing his joke from that morning. He never reuses dumb jokes. Hansol pouts.
“Cliché answer, Boo, but sure,” he says, then turns his attention back to the movie. Seungkwan is still, ridiculously, holding onto Hansol’s arm. Not his bare arm; they’ve both changed into sweatshirts because it’s a weirdly cold March evening. He lets go awkwardly, and places his own hands in his lap. Beside him, Hansol still has his eyes on the screen, but he shifts, and—
Seungkwan is tugged into Hansol’s left side, his head leaning against the spot between his chest and shoulder. Hansol’s left arm is wrapped around Seungkwan, alternating between stroking Seungkwan’s hair and tugging absently at his earlobe in the same way Seungkwan does. This is— intimate . Not the cuddling, they’ve literally spooned each other before, but they haven’t hung out in private for a good while, and certainly not with Seungkwan tucked into Hansol like this, who seemingly doesn’t notice Seungkwan’s internal freakout. The lights are off too, with just a warm lamp in the corner and the glow of the TV screen illuminating the profile of Hansol’s nose and strong, focused eyes. Seungkwan feels a little like he’s about to pass out.
This is not a date. It’s not, except everyone kept describing it as one in the car five hours ago, and Seungkwan still has the clear memory of his conversation with Jeonghan about the cuddling at dance practice, and his own, treacherous heart is beating so fast he’s convinced Hansol has noticed the frantic pulsepoint on the side of Seungkwan’s neck.
He very nearly yelps when he hears Hansol’s voice in his head. Damn, Sandra Oh’s voice acting is good , he hears in English, and then in Korean, Ah, the fur animation is so realistic . Seungkwan feels the urge to start laughing hysterically. He’s sitting here turning a deep shade of pink (turning red, ha) from his horrendous gay feelings, and Hansol is thinking about fur animation . Seungkwan is still so in love with him.
“Wow, the fur looks so fluffy,” he comments, for lack of anything to say. Usually he loves adding his own little interjections when he’s watching a movie with someone. Hansol makes a sound of agreement.
“Hey, I was just thinking that.” His hand moves up to ruffle Seungkwan’s hair again, stroking his hair in gentle motions. Seungkwan listens, but gets abrupt silence from Hansol’s head. He’s not thinking about the movie anymore. And, well. What if. He’s not totally stupid. What if .
What if he turned around to face Hansol, and gripped his messy brown hair back and pressed their lips together, all sweet and spicy from the tteokbokki they’d been eating? What if he let Hansol press him into the throw cushions and kiss the words from his mouth until he stopped thinking about Hansol’s thoughts— stopped thinking entirely?
Seungkwan is scared of heights, though. He loves the process of getting to the top, goes hiking with Mingyu on the rare days they have enough energy and time. He loves the swoop in his gut when he looks out from the summit and sees the view of buildings and trees, dotted out like a painting, and the cerulean of the sky and sea. He always wants to stay on the summit forever, unwilling to let go of the reward of trekking all the way up, the way the wind blows through his hair.
This feels like a summit. The closest he’ll get to his version of heaven, painted in strokes of warm brown eyes and chapped pink lips. A warm body against the line of his back, a reliable hand to grasp in between sets at their shows. The sky always looks closer from the mountaintops.
Hansol went through a Greek and Roman mythology phase a year ago. The Icarus story was very earnestly explained to Seungkwan while they were lounging in a green room, bored out of their minds in between Music Bank interviews. Hansol probably wouldn’t be described as the sun by their fans; he’s got that serious, cool-headed image. Seungkwan has the privilege of seeing every side of him, though. The way he burns with affection and excitement, uncaring of who’s watching, because it’s always only Seungkwan watching. Hansol is sunrise and sunset all at once.
The sunsets are always beautiful when Seungkwan manages to time them to the end of his hikes. He’s got his summit, and his sunset. Hansol, who gives him peace like the liminal space found in the first rays of daybreak, and the last purple-and-pink rays of a sunset. Icarus’s story was a warning, to not venture too close to the sun. Bask in the warmth of the star, but do not presume you will survive a collision with its heat. What if the next step he takes will be off the side of a cliff, instead of a step closer to a sun that doesn’t actually want him?
Seungkwan stays put. Basks in the comfort he has, listens to Hansol’s occasional mental commentary of how Soonyoung would probably like the songs, and what that English word should’ve been translated to when he disagrees with the captions. They both chuckle and automatically repeat Abby’s angry Korean, a habit from years of doing the same to their members. It’s warmer and better than any hiking trail view he’s gotten, no matter how much his heart still yearns. It’s perfect. Really.
(Jeonghan gets back to their dorm early the next morning, takes one look at Seungkwan, and sighs. Seungkwan feels a little watery when his hyung tells him, “Boo Seungkwan, you are so good at making yourself sad.”)
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
Comeback season hits them with the usual force of a speeding truck, and then they’re dragged into tour rehearsals almost immediately after. There’s no time for any further personal revelations, not when everyone is stressed out of their minds preparing for the first tour since 2020 and the pandemic brought the last one to a grating halt. There are members to talk down (Soonyoung, Chan) and members to look out for (Jeonghan, Wonwoo), and through it all Hansol is still there, but Seungkwan has a job to do.
It’s not like they avoid each other, in fact the strange lingering intimacy continues. Hansol clings to him during rehearsal and tour outfit fittings and is always there as a shoulder for Seungkwan to slump into at the end of long days of preparation. They just don’t talk about it.
Tour starts up in the middle of the summer, fitting for its name, Be The Sun. It’s wonderful and exhausting and Seungkwan missed this, missed feeling so full of their fan’s love that he feels like exploding looking out in the crowd every night.
In their third week of tour, he catches Hansol’s eye during ments, and Hansol looks so warm with love that Seungkwan has to look away for fear of his blush showing up. There’s already too many fan-made compilations of them that Jeonghan gets from Seungcheol and promptly sends into the gossip group chat. He’s sure some stray phone has already caught the moment.
The only exception is the car rides back to their hotels. It’s the space between the last of the concert high and the adrenaline crash that sends Seungkwan to bed almost immediately. They can leave the post-concert lives to Jun and Soonyoung. He doesn’t know which manager Hansol bribed, but they almost always end up in a car together, and Seungkwan’s too breathless to overthink the way he always ends up squished next to Hansol while whichever member tags along ignores them.
Hansol always has a comment for Seungkwan, some hushed compliment about how he looked good during March, or did a good job with his high notes, or some sign mentioning Seungkwan that Hansol saw. It’s terrible for Seungkwan’s mental health, honestly. Hansol looking at him with sweat running down his neck, pretty stage makeup still on, and that intense, serious look in his eyes. The way he’s always holding onto Seungkwan’s hand when he says it and Seungkwan can only conclude from the silence that Hansol means it.
It’s bad enough on the days where they have shows, Seungkwan often going to bed with Hansol’s words sending sparks up his spine, smoldering and all-consuming on their path through his veins. On their days off, though, he’ll explore whatever city they’re in during the day and come back to the hotel, where a text from Hansol asking if he wants to eat dinner with him, or catch up on a volleyball tournament stream together. Seungkwan knows for a fact he’s the only one in their group passionate enough about the Red Sparks to be following the season even while he’s on tour.
Tour has that unique ability to send the whole group back to their initial codependency, joined at the hip out of necessity like how they’d been as trainees and for the first year after debut. That’s the only reason he’s getting away with whatever these evenings spent in Hansol’s bed are, because Minghao is doing the exact same thing with Jun, and Jeonghan doesn’t even bother unpacking in his room some days. The feeling of being unmoored for a few months in a foreign country isn’t new, but this, the added vein of loaded stares and the feeling of Hansol always wanting to say something, but letting Seungkwan steer their conversations is .
It feels like he’s fifteen with his first crush again, but worse, because this isn’t puppy love over a cute fifteen year old Hansol whose voice was still hovering between kid and teenager. This is twenty four year old Hansol and Seungkwan, with all the intimacy of growing up in a career and a group together, closer than Seungkwan will be with any other friend. This is Seungkwan knowing the feeling of Hansol’s newly muscled frame under his palm, evidence of him finally giving into the same gym rat agenda that Mingyu and Seungcheol had been spreading for the last few years.
Seungkwan’s grown up too, no longer has some of the insecurities of his teenage self trying to figure out his place between faces like Kim Mingyu and Yoon Jeonghan. He’s learned enough from their makeup stylists on how to apply lip tint and eyeshadow to look pretty, or at least cute. On the evenings he allows himself to be delusional, he shows up to Hansol’s room with glossy, red-stained lips, highlighter carefully swiped on the high points of his cheeks and nose, and watches Hansol’s eyes trail after the shimmer.
Nothing ever actually happens, and Seungkwan gets it, really, he does. They’re on tour, stuck with nobody else except themselves, and half of the group might be happily paired up with each other, but Hansol is still a man, after all. He’ll look if Seungkwan gives him something to look at. It can’t mean anything more.
“Seungkwannie, you’re having dinner with us and Hansollie,” Jeonghan informs him over the hotel phone one night, us obviously meaning him and Seungcheol. Seungkwan hates couples.
“Meet us downstairs at the hotel restaurant in twenty minutes.” He says it so briskly that Seungkwan can’t put together a protest before he's hung up on.
It’s not exactly an unappealing request, though. As insufferable as it sounds to himself, room service starts blending together after the fifth or six meal on uncomfortable hotel sofas, and he’s been wanting an actual meal with his hyungs. Even if Jeonghan has something up his sleeve, which he always does.
He takes his time getting ready, treating it as if he was going out for samgyeopsal with Soonyoung and Seokmin back home. Puts hair oil through his bleach-dried hair, pats on a BB cream. Hesitates when he looks at the couple of tubes of lip tint in his bag, but puts one on anyway, the shade a little darker than his natural lip color. Digs out a nice button up that’s only a little wrinkly from still being in his suitcase, and comfortable jeans. Sprays the vanilla perfume Joshua recommended because “it makes you smell like a piece of candy for Vernonie to bite, Seungkwan-ah.” His hyungs have such a way with words.
“Ahh, Seungkwannie dressed up and everything,” Jeonghan sings when Seungkwan’s led to a private corner of the restaurant. Everyone else is there already, Seungcheol and Jeonghan sitting on one side, and Hansol with an empty seat next to him. Of course.
Jeonghan is wearing his muted pink sweater— the one Joshua eloquently described as “something a middle aged lesbian married with three kids would wear”— and his hair is tied half up and half down. Seungcheol is in his usual uniform of a black tee and giant fucking watch. Seungkwan learned long ago to not ask about the watches; even if he has money now, their prices still make him cringe a little. Jeonghan is abysmally and embarrassingly into the watches.
Hansol, on the other hand is also in a sweater, some black-and white knit that he might’ve gotten from a brand shoot, and he actually took the effort of blow drying his hair properly instead of letting it dry into the bird’s nest hairstyle he always reverts to when not onstage or shooting for a schedule. Seungkwan doesn’t know why he’s the one getting noticed for dressing up when Hansol has actual non-sweatpant pants on.
“You look nice, Boo,” and he’s said it so many times over the course of the last year that Seungkwan doesn’t even blink anymore, but it still evokes the usual warm flutter in his gut.
“Thanks, Hansol,” he smiles, sitting down. There’s a good ten minutes spent figuring out the English menu that’s more French than English, before they all realize Hansol can just order for them, since he knows all of their preferences anyway.
Seungkwan watches Jeonghan nod blankly along to whatever Hansol’s saying to the waiter, and then the way Seungcheol looks at his boyfriend, open and fond. They don’t do this in public often, but it’s the American leg of the tour, and nobody else is around their table, so Seungcheol observes Jeonghan with nothing but raw honest love in his eyes and Seungkwan feels a violent wave of jealousy sweep through him, a tsunami crashing against a rocky beach. He wonders if he looks at Hansol the same way. If Hansol notices, if he feels like doing what Jeonghan is doing— looking back at Seungcheol and hooking their pinkies together in an act of simple, casual intimacy. So absolutely secure in the fact of them , that he’s able to just say “us” and their members will know what it means.
“So, what have you two been up to?” Seungcheol asks, pulling himself out of his Jeonghan-induced trance.
Hansol makes a face. “Ew, don’t talk like an actual dad, I feel like I’m videocalling my father right now.”
Seungcheol scoffs, reaching out to poke Hansol’s forehead. “Aish, don’t be a brat. What else am I supposed to ask, huh? We’re in the same team and unit, not like I can ask how the shows have been for you.”
“Yeah, but I don’t do shit in my free time,” Hansol laughs. Jeonghan and Seungkwan exchange a look . This is why the gossip group chat exists, truly. Men have no idea how conversation works.
“Hansol’s been watching volleyball with me,” he supplies. Seungcheol hums in interest, like Seungkwan knew he would. Jeonghan, naturally, is putting two and two together, but now Seungcheol and Hansol are shifting the topic to baseball stats, and that game the Dodgers just played, and Jeonghan isn’t interested enough in any professional sport to engage in the conversation.
The food starts arriving, and Jeonghan temporarily lets go of Seungkwan’s hand where he’d been making more and more ridiculous threats to get him to talk. The scheming look on his face shifts quickly to affection while he watches Seungcheol dutifully cutting up their steak, and Seungkwan's jealousy returns with a vengeance. This is why tagging along on dates is a bad idea— it takes all of the want he’s buried behind his ribs and presents it like an expired dish on the plate in front of him. He starts seeing himself in other people, like the way Jeonghan’s eyes go all crooked and droopy when he’s smiling at his boyfriend.
Hansol’s hand chooses that moment to reach out and settle heavily on Seungkwan’s knee, his thumb rubbing small circles against the denim. He says nothing when Seungkwan jumps and looks at him, just looks up from where he’d been working at a bowl of risotto and gives Seungkwan a private smile. It feels reassuring, like Hansol felt the acidic puddle of envy coming out of Seungkwan’s pores and did the exact thing he knew would make it better. Better, and yet worse at the same time.
“You okay?” Hansol asks quietly, when the other two are absorbed in their own little bubble of conversation.
“Yeah, of course. Do…Do I not seem like it?”
“Just a little quieter than usual,” Hansol shrugs, “I wanted to make sure you weren’t secretly stressing about something.”
“Ah, no, I’m just. Happy. For the hyungs.” Happy is certainly one way to describe the emotional turmoil he’s in, but Hansol seems to accept this.
“Mm, same. Love is real, or whatever,” he smiles, then turns back to his food. The hand he has on Seungkwan’s knee doesn’t move, though. In fact, it starts trailing up his leg, slowly and interspersed with searching looks at Seungkwan for any signs of discomfort. Seungkwan is the furthest thing from uncomfortable. He’s going to have a mental breakdown once he gets back to the safety of his own room, but he’s also in too deep to tell Hansol to stop.
This is a— a fantasy, he tells himself. A pantomime of something just a step above their usual clinginess. Some unspoken agreement between himself and Hansol to avoid being a third wheel to the couple opposite them. Jeonghan has his head on Seungcheol’s shoulder at this point, already halfway-ready to declare dinner over so he can go pass out in Seungcheol’s bed. Seungkwan can predict the fond look Seungcheol will have on his face while tucking Jeonghan into the crisp white blankets, having seen it so many times over the last decade.
It’s almost inevitable when his thoughts turn to Hansol, who allows Seungkwan to fall asleep on him the same way. Just as a friend, a friend of ten years with all the closeness that comes with it, but just that. Does he have the same fondness? Does he stroke Seungkwan’s hair like he’d done during their movie night months ago? No, of course not, Boo Seungkwan , he reminds himself. He’s being unfair again. It’s already a rare privilege for him to have so many people and friends by his side for a whole decade. Most people don’t even have a friend like Hansol, much less a romantic partner.
It's a unique curse, so often seen in people from their industry, to receive enough love for fifty lifetimes, and still run themselves raw and bleeding trying to chase after more. Hansol’s hand, still on his thigh, digs into that open wound. Seungkwan faintly notices he’s allowed himself to be pulled, centimeter by centimeter closer to Hansol until their thighs are pressing against each other.
The meal wraps up a few minutes later. Seungcheol and Hansol walk off to fight each other over the bill— Seungcheol’s leader instincts against Hansol’s oldest sibling upbringing. Jeonghan has no problem letting his boyfriend pay for him, and Seungkwan has always been the youngest, so.
“Seungkwan-ah, you two were awfully close to each other today,” Jeonghan says noncommittally, picking at his nails. Seungkwan doesn’t reply, waiting for the next part of Jeonghan’s breakdown of exactly how self-sabotaging he’s so obviously been.
“It felt like a double date, almost,” Jeonghan continues, a light puff of laughter in his tone. “You should’ve seen the way Hansollie was smiling to himself ‘cause you were beside him and sharing your food.”
“I share food with him every time we eat together, hyung,” Seungkwan sighs. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow.
“Really. In a fancy restaurant, with him wearing his nice clothes and your hair done up and makeup on your face? You two eat together like this often?” Seungkwan’s first instinct is to scoff at the clear implication, but god . It’s been such a confusing couple of months, all triggered by that odd, charged movie night back in March. Sue him for indulging in the moment, just this once.
“Sometimes things really are just that obvious, Boo,” Jeonghan says softly, “and I think if you just let yourself act for once, you’d see what we’ve been trying to tell you.” His hyung is pulled away right after, Seungcheol arriving back at their table pouting because Hansol had evidently convinced him to split the bill.
“Hansollie,” Jeonghan calls, “Seungkwan was telling me how he’s a little tired. Walk him back to his room?”
“Hyung is a dirty liar,” Seungkwan hurries to say the moment Hansol opens his mouth. “You can just head up to your room, Sol, I don’t wanna take up your time—”
“I’ll walk you back anyway,” Hansol interrupts, smiling, “and you could never take up my time. I’m always down to hang out with you, okay?”
He places a hand on the small of Seungkwan’s back, apparently uncaring of who sees. To be fair, the lobby is empty of any other guest; they’d picked a pretty late dinnertime. Seungkwan still jumps a little when Hansol slings both arms around his torso in the elevator, chin resting on his shoulder. It brings him back to that dance practice, except they’re not surrounded by people now, and Seungkwan can feel Hansol’s breath against his neck.
“You really did look pretty tonight, Seungkwan,” he says lowly. One hand smooths the fabric of Seungkwan’s button up, and Seungkwan can’t help the shiver that goes through him, which Hansol absolutely notices. His cheek grazes the side of Seungkwan’s neck, and he hears a single word, vanilla .
“You always say that.”
“It’s always true.” Fuck . Seungkwan is about to do something bad for his mental state, but honestly, it can’t get worse than this. The elevator doors slide open with a ding, and Hansol reluctantly unwraps himself from Seungkwan. They have their whole floor booked, but still.
Seungkwan gives himself credit for walking all the way to his room, Hansol at his heels, without doing something stupid like jumping his best friend in the hallway. He even manages to get his keycard out of his pocket and open the door before he turns around to find Hansol staring at him with a look so intense he feels a little like he’s being burned into ashes.
Not for the first time, Seungkwan admires how pretty Hansol’s eyes are, takes in the details of his thick eyelashes and big sparkly irises. He swallows. Hansol’s eyes drop to his mouth, which is probably still tinged with the lip tint and the single glass of red wine he had earlier.
“Hansol.” Hansol’s eyes snap back up to meet Seungkwan’s own heavy gaze.
“Seungkwan, I—” Seungkwan kisses him.
He wraps the front of Hansol’s stupid cashmere sweater in his fist, drags him into the room. For a single, horrifying split-second, Hansol doesn’t react, but then he’s kissing back , giving back what Seungkwan’s offered him twice over. The door slams shut behind them, and then Hansol is spinning them so he can press Seungkwan against it, one hand tangled in Seungkwan’s hair and the other gripping his waist. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when Seungkwan lets his lips part further, and licks into his mouth. The fingers in his hair tighten and then he’s pulling away. Seungkwan gets his eyes open long enough to see the flash of a smirk at the needy whine he makes at the loss of Hansol’s mouth on his own.
It’s remedied soon enough. Hansol moves down to press white-hot kisses down the line of Seungkwan’s jaw, and then on the crook of his neck, which falls back automatically to give Hansol more space to work with. Seungkwan gets his hands in Hansol’s hair as well, and Hansol is all too happy to let himself be guided down Seungkwan’s neck and then back up to his lips, where he swallows all the little noises Seungkwan’s been biting back, aware of the thin hotel walls.
“Inside,” Seungkwan gasps, “You’re not making out with me against a hotel wall, Chwe Hansol.” Hansol grins, bright and sharp, and walks Seungkwan backwards into the room, and onto the bed, nipping at Seungkwan’s lower lip the whole time. Thank god tomorrow is also a break day. He doesn’t think he could face their makeup artists if he wakes up with swollen lips in the morning.
The back of his knees hit the end of his bed, unmade since he’d spent most of the day in it. Hansol pulls back again, both hands cupping Seungkwan’s face.
“Seungkwan.”
“Yeah?”
“What do you want?” The question gives Seungkwan pause. Trust Hansol to know him this well, to know he likes to go into things prepared with his thoughts in order. What does he want? He knows what he could ask for. Hansol would probably give him anything he asked for, and Seungkwan has woken up hard and aching so many times, traced the outline of Hansol’s body in his dreams.
Touch has always been a sensitive thing for him. He doesn’t think much of clinging onto his family and his members, of course, and his same-age friends. Touch during sex is something different, though. Besides the absolute intimacy of the whole process, Seungkwan always feels a little like he’s being stripped down to a barer version of himself, hearing both his own babbling and the flashes of desire in his partners’ heads of what they want, what they’re thinking of doing. You only get so far with kissing, but sex opens up a whole chasm of possibility. The parts about him are left to inference, of course, but he also always feels like he’s being wrapped in somebody else’s thoughts along with their body.
That level of vulnerability both for himself and his partner is why he’s always kept his hookups to people he already trusts and is close with, unwilling to accidentally get into the head of someone who might not feel the same way. There was one awful night, when he hooked up with someone after a private event, and realized pretty quickly he was getting used as a rebound without being able to say anything about it. The images of some other girl in his own head while his hookup was in between his legs had put him off casual forever.
Seungkwan trusts Hansol more than maybe anybody else he’s ever trusted. If he’s being completely honest, he also loves Hansol with an all-consuming intensity he knows he’ll never have for anyone else in this lifetime. Evidently, Hansol feels something similar, at least in terms of attraction, but he’s not sure he could stand it if they fucked and then fell into an awkward back-and-forth of misaligned hopes for whatever they’re turning into. Seungkwan firmly believes Hansol is one of the central pieces to his heart, but he’s still terrified to ask Hansol about who Seungkwan is to him. If not a close friend, then what?
He should probably ask, but Hansol is still waiting and watching him with that hungry look on his face and Seungkwan just really, really wants something , even if it’s just a scratch on the surface of everything he wants to ask for. Seungkwan already has Hansol here, he can leave that conversation for some later date, can’t he?
“Kiss me,” he pleads, “kiss me and stay in my room tonight, and be there when I wake up?”
Hansol’s eyes soften, and he brushes a thumb over the skin below Seungkwan’s eye. “Of course, anything you want, Seungkwan-ah.”
He rejoins their lips, and then Seungkwan’s being lowered onto the bed, Hansol hanging over him with both hands by the side of his head. Seungkwan can’t help the giggle at the way Hansol’s hair flops in his face. “Get down here.”
The kiss turns intense dizzyingly quickly, the firm line of Hansol’s body pressing Seungkwan into the mattress as he pushes his tongue back into Seungkwan’s mouth. Seungkwan digs his fingers into the hard plane of Hansol’s back and whines again, breathy and desperate. Hansol makes a sound like a growl in response and bites down properly on Seungkwan’s bottom lip. They’re just kissing, but he slips his warm, guitar-callused hands under Seungkwan’s shirt to grip his waist bruisingly tight. Seungkwan vaguely hopes there’s a handprint shaped mark there the next day.
At one point he rolls them over so Hansol’s back is pressed into the pillows by the headboard, and he watches with blown-out eyes as Seungkwan crawls to him and swings a leg over his lap so he can straddle Hansol. He’s pulled flush against Hansol’s body with hands at his waist again, and as payback for earlier, he presses feather-light kisses down Hansol’s neck while he trembles under Seungkwan’s mouth.
The heat spreading down from Seungkwan’s core to his lower stomach is a constant presence, and he very nearly decides to do something reckless when he shifts and has to choke back a moan at the feeling of himself accidentally grinding against Hansol’s own arousal. Hansol looks as affected as Seungkwan is, but, sweet and perfect as he is, he adjusts their positions so Seungkwan’s the one hovering over where Hansol's laid himself flat on the bed. Following what Seungkwan’s told him, as always.
He doesn’t know how much time passes between the frantic exploration of each other’s mouths and all the little sounds Hansol draws out of Seungkwan that nobody else has drawn out of him because none of them were Hansol, but finally, Hansol pulls away with kiss-swollen lips and gently pulls Seungkwan up to the en-suite bathroom. He wipes his own face with a toner pad while Seungkwan removes what’s left of his makeup, blushing at the twin shades of red on their lips. Hansol just looks pleased and vaguely smug, like a cat with its favorite toy.
When they’ve both gotten ready for bed, Seungkwan pauses at the side of the bed where Hansol’s already tucked in. Is it a step too far, to sleep next to the man he’s been in love with for ten years after kissing him for god-knows how long? Will it be too awkward for Hansol?
“Seungkwan,” Hansol says gently, “I can hear you thinking from over there. Come to bed.”
Before Seungkwan falls asleep with Hansol’s arm slung over his waist, he hears one clear thought. God, this is everything I wanted.
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
The kissing remains a thing . A thing they still haven’t had an actual conversation about. Tour starts up again, so most nights they’re too exhausted to do anything anyways, but Seungkwan always wakes up next to Hansol now. It feels more intimate than if they’d just kissed. He’s too in love to really be willing to change anything, not when he can kiss Hansol awake and listen to him recalibrate his thoughts before mumbling a good morning to Seungkwan.
On the days where they can spend hours wrapped up in each other, though, Hansol seems to have made it his personal mission to learn every inch of Seungkwan’s mouth. The intensity from the very first night dies down to a bubbling simmer, one that burns just under the surface of Seungkwan’s skin, a burning trail of embers following where Hansol’s hands wander up and down.
It feels a little like he’s living in an extended dream. In his head, he’s sorted this to the area of his head reserved for tours. Something wild and exciting and bursting with love, but confined just to the couple of months they’re on the road. He feels like Icarus, despite all of his efforts against it, about to fall at any second. Even if the thing he and Hansol have twisted themselves into crashes and crumbles, though, it would’ve been worth it. Seungkwan may never recover, but he can’t bring himself to regret anything with Hansol.
He sees the days they have together in snapshots, always with Hansol in the center of the composition.
A hurried makeout in a New York cafe, the rest of the group laughing at their table while Hansol pulled Seungkwan into a shitty bathroom to kiss the powdered sugar from his lips, the name of the pastry Seungkwan had just eaten on the edge of his thoughts.
Hansol, straddling Seungkwan on another hotel bed after Seungkwan stepped out of the shower and kissing him sweetly while drying his hair.
The last night of the tour, where they stumbled back to Hansol’s room and kissed for hours while a corny rom-com played on the TV and they finished two bottles of soju together, warm and tipsy. Seungkwan grabbing at Hansol’s hair and clothes as he’s kissed within an inch of his life. The hollowness in his chest as they’d fallen asleep; a sinkhole in the ocean of complicated emotion he’s not ready to face. This is everything Hansol wanted, but Seungkwan, selfish to the end, wants more.
The day they get back to Korea, he sees in his mind Icarus bleeding out on the ground in the way all mortals do in the end, and Seungkwan runs.
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
Actually, he and Hansol don’t avoid each other, or anything. He stays active in their various group chats, replies to the silly cat videos Hansol sends him, and remains just as close when they’re filming together. He just also never brings up the conversation he’d meant for them to have, doesn't cling to Hansol once the cameras are off, and Hansol doesn’t push, even if Seungkwan knows he notices it.
How do you spend an entire tour shoving your tongue down your best friend’s throat every other night, and then stop? He feels unmoored, and the further away they drift from that last night together, the more terrifying of a ghost it becomes.
It’s not like Seungkwan has a lot of time to dwell on it, though. There’s two comebacks looming in the near future, on top of Caratland and GoSe, so he’s in and out of photoshoots, practices, studio sessions, and brand events for a whole month.
Hansol texts him a Happy New Year with a kiss emoji, and Seungkwan almost starts crying.
Then, a giant distraction manages to hit him off course entirely, in the form of Kwon Soonyoung, because of course it’s him.
They’re in a dance practice for Fighting , the first comeback from BSS in five years, and Soonyoung is being surprisingly blasé about it. Seungkwan and Seokmin are suspicious about it, naturally, but it could just be that he’s stressed himself into a whole other level above “obsessive practice to the point of self-destruction.”
Like now, where they’re all taking a ten minute break after the first hour and a half of going over the previous day’s choreography. Seokmin is whining about his poor choice to do a lower body workout that morning. Seungkwan has heard a little too much about his hyung’s “sore ass, like, my glutes are burning . Burning , Kwan-ah.” He gently directs Seokmin over to some of their backup dancers, apologizing mentally for the conversation they’re about to endure. Seokmin launches into his complaint immediately, of course, and Seungkwan makes a hasty escape, pulling out his phone from his bag.
He texts the gossip group chat to ask Minghao if Soonyoung’s been acting weird in their performance unit practices as well, then shoves his phone in his pocket to wander over to wear Soonyoung is staring into space on a plastic chair, slumped to one side so his stretched out tank top is slowly sliding off. He looks a little like Hansol, which is why Seungkwan knows something’s off. Hansol and Soonyoung both have their moments of drama, but Soonyoung is almost incapable of zoning out like Hansol.
“Hyung, you okay?” Soonyoung blinks and visibly shakes himself, looking up at Seungkwan uncomprehendingly.
“What? Oh, I’m fine. Super super fine.”
“You don’t sound fine,” Seungkwan replies, “Have you been getting enough sleep, hyung?”
He reaches out to squeeze Soonyoung’s shoulder, just as reassurance, really, not an attempt into his head, and then immediately has to jerk his hand back after a few seconds with a muffled shriek. He’d half expected some stress spiral about the choreo, or Soonyoung’s vocals, or anything else. This is not music related. This is an entire montage of highly detailed images of Chan , very very naked and very much under Soonyoung in a bed , and moaning . Saying all kinds of things no hyung should have to hear from their dongsaeng, except, apparently, Soonyoung. Seungkwan wants to fucking die . This is it, they're going to have to lock him away because Kwon Soonyoung has succeeded in pushing his sanity over the edge.
He comes back to himself to find half the room staring at him, Soonyoung included. This is so unfair. He should not be the object of concern right now, not when Kwon fucking Soonyoung has apparently gotten his head out of his ass and noticed Chan’s horribly intense thing for him that’s been the topic of frequent discussion in the gossip group chat. God , he never wants to hear exactly how much Soonyoung likes Chan’s mouth again.
“Static electricity,” he explains lamely, shaking his hand for added effect. “It's been super dry lately, huh?”
“Okay, Kwan,” Soonyoung says dubiously. Seungkwan cannot look him in the eye. He will actually die. He speeds out of the practice room to the nearest bathroom, pulling up the gossip group chat again with clammy fingers.
untitled group chat
boo 🐻 (4:32 PM)
hey minghao hyung has soonyoung seemed really weird and spacey in ur perf unit practices lately??
he’s been weird all afternoon and me n seokmin are kinda worried
also seokmin keeps talking about his sore glutes UGH men have no decorum
boo 🐻 (4:43 PM)
NO NEVER MINDB FUCK WHERE ARE ALKL OF YOU
SOS EMEGRYENCY
PLEASR GET OVCER HERE
kimja (4:44 PM)
wait what are you okay??
hao hao (4:44 PM)
what happened
jjong jjong 👼 (4:44 PM)
kwannie what’s wrong what happened
WAIT
did something happen with hansol!!
kimja (4:44 PM)
WAIT IS THAT IT
wait congrats!!!!
boo 🐻 (4:45 PM)
NODF FUCK ALL OF YOU
CHAN AND SOONYOUNG FINALLYK GOT THEIR SHIT TOGETHER
BUT I FOUND OUT
AFTER TOUCHING SOONYOUNG
I DON’T NEED TO KNOW WHAT CHAN LOOKS LIKE WHILE HES HAVIG SEX
jjong jjong 👼 (4:45 PM)
oh
OH
that is the funniest thing ive ever fucking heard seungkwannie
kimja (4:45 PM)
NOOOO SEUNGKWANNIE
but also im really happy for them!
hao hao (4:45 PM)
fucking FINALLY but also
no
wait
ew chan’s fuck me eyes during practice yesterday worked???
I don’t wanna think about hyung and my baby actually having sex :/
boo 🐻 (4:46 PM)
TRY ACCIDENTALLY SEEING HYUNG’S PERSPECTIVE OF THEM FUCKING
UGH I WANT TO DIE
shua 💞 (4:46 PM)
okay but tell us more
was I right about channie being a brat
jjong jjong 👼 (4:46 PM)
joshuji where even were you
ah who cares i agree seungkwan tell us more
boo 🐻 (4:46 PM)
I fucking hate you both absolutely no sympathy for the TRAUMA I just endured
…
yes. you were right.
please don’t say anything yet!!
we r still in practice and you know hyung checks his phone right after we wrap
too much staff around
hao hao (4:47 PM)
oh don’t worry tell hyung to enjoy his last few hours of peace
corrupting my baby like that smh count your fucking days kwon soonyoung
kimja (4:48 PM)
I love when you’re vengeful it’s hot
don’t tell wonwoo hyung I said that but it’s true!!
Seungkwan somehow puts his phone away, goes back to practice, and gets through learning the rest of the choreo without giving any hints of what he’s hiding. It takes every last bit of his idol instincts, and he almost cracks when he glances at Soonyoung again and realizes the mark on his collar, which Seungkwan had assumed was a bruise from dancing, is in fact a hickey. Seokmin, now suddenly left to be suspicious of both Soonyoung and Seungkwan, shoots him multiple questioning looks, to which Seungkwan can only feign ignorance. He knows if Seokmin actually starts asking, he’ll start talking, and Seokmin is loud . He will start yelling if Seungkwan tells him about this.
As bad as Seungkwan finding out in the way he did is, he has sense. This is not the time or place to potentially out his member’s hookup, even if he wants to mildly throttle Soonyoung. Not really, he has been rooting for Chan for a while, but seriously, he deserves a free pass for violence.
Practice comes to an end, finally. Soonyoung’s sex-distracted head doesn’t have the capacity for forcing them to stay two hours late, so Seungkwan escapes the practice room and all but drags Seokmin into the car waiting to take them back to their dorms.
“You will find out when we are back home ,” Seungkwan stresses, then for lack of anything to distract himself, shoves in his headphones and puts on SNSD. Maybe girl group songs will come in clutch again and blast the sound of Chan telling Soonyoung to fuck him out of Seungkwan’s head.
Seungkwan hurries out of the car and doesn’t relax until he’s kicking his shoes off in the hallway of the YoonBoo house, calling out an “I’m home!” to wherever the hell Jeonghan is holed up. Almost exactly ten seconds later, when Seungkwan’s hanging up his jacket and fishing his clothes out of his bag to toss into the laundry hamper, his phone starts buzzing from its place on their kitchen table, and just keeps going.
“Were you just fucking waiting for me to get home with your KakaoTalk open?” Seungkwan whines, slipping into Jeonghan’s room.
“Of course. Now shush, Cheol’s calling me,” Jeonghan says smugly. Seungkwan goes to shower; he doesn’t need to hear Jeonghan being domestic while reassuring Seungcheol that he doesn’t need to worry about Soonyoung and Chan. Between the 97 line’s surprisingly good relationship advice and Jeonghan’s meddling sensibilities, they’re got it covered.
Jeonghan’s ordered food by the time Seungkwan’s done washing and patting his skincare in. In that space, something ugly has managed to settle in Seungkwan’s bones. Jealousy. He’s been feeling it so much more than usual, but especially now.
Now, because Jeonghan is puttering around their kitchen absently telling Seungkwan about how nobody was really surprised, other than Seokmin yelling a little and Seungcheol stressing himself out like he hasn’t been in a relationship with Jeonghan since before they debuted. They’d all noticed Channie’s puppy crush turning into something more, hadn’t they?
Seungkwan is happy, yes, and relieved at their two brightest members finally getting the gentle push they needed, but he also feels humiliation rising unbidden. Humiliation at the fact that even Chan, who is younger and reckless and smart-mouthed and has had to be brought back down to earth by Seungkwan, has it figured out more than him. Chan, who has been able to be completely and wholly honest with himself ever since he realized a year ago that he wanted Soonyoung like that , and actually done something about it and been rewarded for it.
Meanwhile, Seungkwan is still here. Still self-sabotaging and miserable for a love that’s stuck with him for a decade. Ten years of reeling Hansol in and then running away, because Seungkwan might be able to hear people’s heads but he’s never been smart or brave enough to act on his own thoughts. He’s here, rotting in a prison of his own making, too scared to look Hansol in the eye and see exactly how much hurt he’s caused, and everyone is moving forward.
“Ah, Joshuji is going to be so mad he wasn’t the one to get this story,” Jeonghan laughs, “He’s never gonna beat your number one place in the group chat now. Anyway, come eat, Kwan-ah.”
“Hyung, I— I’m kind of tired from practice,” Seungkwan says, trying to ignore the wobble in his voice that he knows Jeonghan picks up on immediately. “I think I’ll go to bed early.”
He runs, again. Hurries from the kitchen where Jeonghan’s mouth is half open around a spoonful of kimchi jjigae and a concerned question. Seungkwan can’t look him in the eye either, shame rising high in his cheeks at the way he’s rendered himself incapable of even being happy for their maknae and his hyung even for one night. How has he gotten here, avoiding the fact of him and Hansol while being so absorbed by his own petty feelings that it’s smothering every interaction with his members?
There are hot tears staining his vision by the time he manages to get his bedroom door closed, and buried himself in his blankets. Irrationally, he wishes for home, for Jeju, and the peace of his mother cupping a hand around his cheek. The only remaining pocket of real silence he has, now that he’s ruined the foundation of him and Hansol when he promised himself that this would not happen. Where does that leave him— a bad friend, and a hypocrite too.
The tears roll down his face and onto his pillowcase. Seungkwan lets the silk stick damply onto his cheek, willing to sleep to take him, at least for a few hours.
Jeonghan comes in two hours later, when Seungkwan still hasn’t fallen asleep and is lying there, hot with embarrassment and still vaguely sticky from his crying. There’s the clink of a bowl of rice, and his hyung’s cold fingers run through his sweat-matted bangs. “Oh, Seungkwannie,” he whispers, “I told you to be happy, aegi . What have you been telling yourself again, huh?”
Seungkwan holds in his sob until Jeonghan’s shuffled out of the room and closed the door with a gentle click. He doesn’t need to tire his hyung with more of his problems.
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
Seungkwan gets out of bed when his alarm drags him out of an uneasy night’s sleep, hobbles into the living room with the empty bowl, and then immediately wishes he’d just stayed in his bed. Called in sick, or something.
Hansol is sitting at the kitchen table, mid-conversation with Jeonghan while he devours a kimbap triangle from the CU downstairs. His head immediately swivels to Seungkwan when he hears his slippers slapping on the cold floor. Seungkwan instinctively ducks his head, aware that he’s probably disgustingly bloated from crying so much and then eating right before finally falling asleep, not to mention the state of his hair, which he hadn’t even bothered to check.
Hansol is in front of him within a few heartbeats, though, and then he’s hooking a hand around Seungkwan’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. One thumb rubs at Seungkwan’s puffy under eyes, the finger cool against his heating skin. “Boo, you’ve been crying,” Hansol says softly, and Seungkwan feels his eyes stinging again when he looks up to see Hansol’s worried eyes and furrowed brow. There he goes again. Causing hurt.
“It’s nothing,” he manages, pulling away to put his bowl in the sink. He feels two pairs of eyes on him the whole time. He sets the bowl down, turns back around, and shuffles unsurely on his left foot, then his right. Hansol strides forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his side like he doesn’t know what to do when he stops just in front of Seungkwan.
“I’m going to my room,” Jeonghan announces, “And you two had better work this out when I come back out, or I’m bringing in Cheol, and nobody here wants that, do we?” God, no. Seungcheol hasn’t directly involved himself in most of the members’ affairs since 2019, but Seungkwan still has uncomfortably vivid memories of Seungcheol talking him through his spirals during their debut era. Seungcheol manages to pull the most uncomfortably raw sides of them out, and Seungkwan likes to think he’s mature enough to never have to experience getting bundled up off the bathroom floor by their leader after a panic attack.
Hansol clearly shares the sentiment, and nods sharply at Jeonghan. He turns back to Seungkwan and puts both hands on Seungkwan’s waist, guiding him towards the sofa. Seungkwan would really rather not keep experiencing relationship-changing conversations on this particular couch, but he suspects this is just going to be a trend for them.
“Okay, I think we need to talk now, don’t we, Boo?” Hansol starts, holding onto both of Seungkwan’s hands loosely so he can’t fidget with his cuticles.
“Listen, I… I feel like I need to apologize,” Hansol says, startling Seungkwan out of his doom spiral so badly that his mouth falls open. Hansol , apologize?
“Hansol, no , I’m the one wh—”
“No, listen to me, Seungkwan-ah,” Hansol interrupts, eyes wide and pleading, “I keep thinking back to the last ten months, and everything that’s happened, and I don’t know, I think maybe I moved too fast, too directly. I should’ve given you more time to figure everything out.” The guilt that Seungkwan’s been wallowing in is suddenly reflected back at him in Hansol’s tone. His eyes are downcast, eyelashes fluttering as he stares at their entangled fingers.
“I— I really do care for you. I like you, I like us so much, but if I pushed you into doing something you weren’t a hundred percent okay with, Seungkwan-ah, I’m really sorry,” Hansol finishes. Seungkwan flounders slightly for words to tell Hansol how wrong he is, how unnecessary his apology is.
“Hansollie, no, I’m the one who should be sorry. I’ve been a bad friend,” Seungkwan gasps, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “I’ve been leading you on for months and not talking to you about it, and I know I’ve hurt you. I wanted to kiss you, I want to spend every moment we have together. But I understand if you’re just looking for something fun, or casual.” The last sentence hurts on its way out of his mouth, scraping like a thorn in his heart, but he has to reassure Hansol of the fact that he has the choices here. Seungkwan’s squandered every choice he’s been given, but Hansol has not.
“Seungkwan,” Hansol says, and he’s clutching Seungkan’s face again, “You aren’t—you will never be just fun, or casual for me. You’re the most important person in my life, Boo.”
“R-really?”
“Really. I— I’ve realized over the last year that I really like you, Seungkwan.”
“But I’ve hurt you. I have .” Hansol sighs.
“It was my choice, baby,” and oh , that pet name does something to him, “I’ve always been happy to let you lead, but I should’ve been clear about what I want. Don’t beat yourself up over this. I’d choose to love you in every timeline.”
They both fall silent. Seungkwan can hardly believe he’s living reality, but he is, and his hands are still tangled with Hansol’s and he’s unconsciously leaning forward. Two magnets drawn to each other, as always. He looks for any remaining trepidation, and comes up empty.
He’d always thought love would be dramatic for him. Fireworks and thunderstorms to match his tendency to overperform. It makes sense, in hindsight, that he’d fall for the person who gives him peace and quiet in the simplest of truths.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “So, where do you want to go from here?”
“More of you,” Hansol says immediately, no hesitation in his voice. Seungkwan can’t help it, he starts giggling, slumping forward to press his forehead into Hansol’s chest. This has been so exhausting, but Hansol is sitting there and telling him that he just wants Seungkwan , and he just wants to laugh. Hansol’s fingers rake through his hair, brushing out the knots out as he giggles into his t-shirt and breathes in the combination of generic laundry detergent and that one cologne Hansol’s been using since Seungcheol took him shopping once in 2016.
“Mm, same here,” Seungkwan says a while later. He’s resting his head on Hansol’s shoulder. It feels easier to talk into the side of Hansol’s neck. Cozy and curled into his side instead of feeling like he’s setting confessions adrift like paper boats down a stream. Maybe he’s turning into a cat.
“And— and I really want to keep kissing you,” Hansol admits. Seungkwan reaches up to stroke his face with a thumb, the action instinctive.
“Yeah, so do I, Hansollie.” He pecks Hansol’s cheek before he can doubt himself.
“Can we take it slow, though?” he asks hesitantly. “Like, I know we’ve literally made out, but I don’t know. I get in my head about this stuff, and I keep talking myself out of actually doing anything, which is stupid, but I just. Can we have a redo? One step at a time, so I don’t feel like I’m dangling myself over a ledge.”
“Yeah, of course, Kwan-ah,” Hansol agrees, toying with the hair on Seungkwan's nape. “Do… Do I make you feel like we’re rushing? ‘Cause that’s never what I wanna be like for you—”
“Ah, no, Hansol,” Seungkwan pulls back, staring seriously into Hansol’s big brown eyes. “You’re my safe place, as cliché as it is. More than you could ever know, okay? I just,” and he has to look to the side to huff self-deprecatingly, “I think I need to readjust from ten years of assuming I was just gonna be in one sided love with you forever.”
He looks back, and Hansol looks devastated . “Ten years ?” Ah. Seungkwan. Seungkwan did say that, didn’t he? Ugh. Boo Seungkwan, you and your big mouth , he scolds internally, always saying something too far.
“Oh, no, that wasn’t meant to make you feel bad, Sol-ah, I was the one who just never acted on it,” he says earnestly. Hansol doesn’t look comforted.
“I know, Boo, and— I don’t. I just wish I’d figured myself out earlier,” he says miserably, “It must’ve been hard for you, Seungkwan-ah. I’m sorry if you were hurting, waiting for me.”
Oh. Seungkwan kind of wants to cry again. He also didn’t expect there to be this much crying in love, but maybe it’s a him thing. They’re happy tears, right up there with their first music show win and when they got out of quarantine back in 2020 and Mingyu let Seungkwan cling onto him for as long as he wanted. Maybe it’s also a Hansol thing, so kind and considerate and attentive to Seungkwan even when he’s been blind to it.
“Chwe Hansol, I have never regretted loving you for a second,” Seungkwan says sincerely, “And loving you has been one of the best experiences in my life. I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been when I was with you.”
Hansol surges forward to tilt Seungkwan’s face up, and kisses him, uncaring of the slightly stale taste of his lips, dry from waking up just fifteen minutes ago. It’s chaste compared to what they’d been doing all tour, but there’s an understanding present where there wasn’t before, and it makes it all the more better. Seungkwan sighs into Hansol’s mouth, and lets himself be kissed.
They part eventually, and Hansol follows Seungkwan into his bathroom and watches him brush his teeth and do his morning skincare. He waits until Seungkwan’s applied a final layer of lip balm, then pecks his lips just to grin at Seungkwan’s squawk of surprise.
“Let’s eat breakfast, Boo,” he says, “We both have schedules today, but I was wondering, when we get back, there’s this Nat Geo documentary, and if calling it a date is too fast, that’s fine, but. I really wanna hang out with you tonight?”
“It’s a date,” Seungkwan smiles, “And I expect a sleepover, ‘kay?”
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
So, they take it slowly. Seungkwan takes it as the only favor he’ll get from the universe that Jeonghan keeps his mouth shut and accepts Seungkwan’s explanation of how the conversation went, simply telling him he’s happy they’re working it out. There’s not really a perceptible difference in how they’re acting. He hangs off of Hansol’s arm or shoulder like he’s always done, and Hansol allows it to happen without complaint. Even leans into Seungkwan’s touches now, which is something he hadn’t done before.
“How are you two being more gross than Channie and Soonyoung,” Mingyu sighs as he sits down on the couch Seungkwan and Hansol are on. There’s enough room for one more person, what with Seungkwan being half on Hansol’s lap and Mingyu pettily squeezing himself next to Seungkwan.
“Sit normally, you freaks. There’s vlog cameras around here, you know.”
“The editors can cut this,” Hansol says blandly, one hand pulling Seungkwan back to his original position from where he’d started pulling away at Mingyu’s mention of the InSe team. He’s scrolling through a film review website while Seungkwan observes sleepily.
The shoot doesn’t start for another few hours, and he’s still waiting to get his hair and makeup done so he can press his cheek against Hansol’s shoulder without worrying about foundation stains on his shirt. Hansol is done up, though, hair pushed back artistically and traces of eyeshadow darkening and defining his eyes. He looks good, handsome as always.
Mingyu scoffs. “Soonyoung texted me last night that he and Chan were about to ‘fuck nasty against the wall’ when I tried inviting them out for barbecue, and they’re still more well behaved than you.”
He nods in the direction of Chan, who’s practicing the Super choreography, and Soonyoung, alternating between texting someone and calling out extremely toned down encouragement in consideration of the staff members around who don’t need to be subjugated to their odd dance-foreplay ritual.
“Whatever, at least you don’t hear it—” Seungkwan cuts himself off, exchanging a brief look with Mingyu. Hansol doesn’t seem to have noticed, because he’s really good at tuning out most conversations except when Seungkwan’s talking to him directly.
He also, crucially, does not know about Seungkwan’s gift, and Seungkwan has no fucking clue on how to approach the subject.
Jeonghan, for all his restraint regarding their relationship, has mentioned it in passing a few times, and unfortunately he’s right, as usual. There’s just not really an advice column he can find on Naver for “how do I tell my member/soulmate/boyfriend I have vague psychic abilities that I’ve been hiding since childhood, but it feels like something a soulmate/boyfriend should know?”
The thing is, he’s got his own rules about the gift. Getting dirt on inter-member relationships and the disaster that is Kwon Soonyoung’s mind aside, Seungkwan’s learned to ignore a lot of the thoughts he accidentally hears. He knows as well as anyone else that thoughts are meant to be private for a reason, and it’s often better to simply forget and move on. He no longer twists himself into the shapes of his member’s worst thoughts, trying to make it right and causing way more trouble for himself than necessary.
It also means he doesn’t tell anyone unless strictly necessary, like Jeonghan simply figuring it out and confronting him about it, or Minghao cornering him in the kitchen to ask about whether the group would make it in the future, or Joshua overhearing him talking about it to Mingyu, who also figured it out but chose to use that information to beg Seungkwan for information on whether Wonwoo actually returned his feelings or not.
(Seungkwan refused to tell him, again, privacy , but it didn’t really matter because they figured their shit out a week after that conversation anyway.)
If Seungkwan’s honest with himself, though, the main reason he’s hesitating about telling Hansol is because he knows he’s got complexes and issues from the gift. His tendency to assume, his overbearing nature that flares up at the worst times, his self-sabotaging isolation. They’re all exacerbated by the gift, and Seungkwan can’t stop the voice in his own head from putting all his worst fears on a vicious merry-go-round and overriding his rationality.
Hansol loves Seungkwan as he is now, but what if? They’ve gotten into squabbles in the past about each other’s flaws and fought like every other member, but what if Seungkwan revealing a secret this monumental starts a misunderstanding that breaks them apart? Seungkwan has just accepted the possibility of building something new, but his original anxieties about shaking a foundation too much remain.
“Seungkwan-ssi, your turn,” the makeup noona calls, and Seungkwan sighs and drags himself out of his very comfortable position, sticking his tongue out at Mingyu as he goes. He’s still got a job to do, after all.
Hansol looks up immediately after Seungkwan’s done getting dolled up for the camera, gaze flicking to the dusting of highlighter on Seungkwan’s inner corner and cheeks. “You look pretty, Boo,” he says, smiling as they’re herded out of the break room to run through the schedule for the day.
He says it again after the shoot ends, and it’s the two of them in the car together with Jun, who’s already pulled his hoodie down over his eyes and fallen asleep.
“I know Mingyu was just teasing,” Hansol says after a beat of silence, “But were you okay with… closeness like that? And the members and staff seeing? It’s really fine if you don’t, Boo. Your choice.”
They’ve had a lot more check-ins like this lately. Hansol comes over to eat with Seungkwan regularly now, despite their busy schedules and the impending comeback, and it would hang in that grey area between platonic and romantic if not for how much Hansol touches him.
He always okays them with Seungkwan now, but there’s a few points of contact that have become a given whenever Hansol’s in the same room as Seungkwan— a hand on Seungkwan’s waist the moment he steps through the door, chaste pecks on the cheek, hooking his ankle around Seungkwan’s while entertaining Jeonghan’s sly questions. It’s— nice. Less dizzying than their heated makeouts during tour, and more of a slow pull towards each other, learning all the new ways they can fit together as people, as friends, and. Well, they haven’t actually defined it, but Seungkwan supposes the closest word for what they are is boyfriends.
It doesn’t stop Seungkwan from being sorely tempted to turn their goodnight kisses into something more, though, or from waking up flushed and wanting, though. All the more so now that he’s often accompanied by Hansol’s warm body pressed to Seungkwan’s back and a muscled forearm wrapped almost protectively around his waist, which doesn’t exactly dispel his arousal. He’s had a few too many guilty early-morning orgasms in the shower while Hansol was still asleep in Seungkwan’s bed. It’s fine. They’re taking it slow.
“Mm, I don’t mind, Hansollie,” Seungkwan reassures now, “I’ve gotten used to cuddling with you, and we’ve been doing this forever, anyway. Oh. Unless you’re uncomfortable—?”
“No, I love being close to you,” Hansol says immediately. “I’m always down to cuddle, dude.” Of course he’d call Seungkwan dude while navigating their relationship. Seungkwan’s tragically fond of it.
He grins and kisses Hansol, quick and private. He hears Hansol think oranges , then remembers the citrusy perfume he’d sprayed that morning. He can allow himself this bubble in their hectic schedules for a little longer, he decides. Hansol’s hand finds its way on Seungkwan’s thigh, staying there as they both scroll on their phones and Seungkwan listens to the sounds of evening Seoul traffic and Hansol humming along to the music playing in his earbuds.
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
April is hard, and then abruptly, horrifically, terrible. His members are there, of course, but it’s still probably the worst time of Seungkwan’s life. He’s drifting for those first few months, barely noticing as the heat overtakes the mildness of spring. Summer comes in muted tones.
He feels like one of the old fisherman’s boats back in Jeju, pulling away from touch and solid ground because his own thoughts are almost enough to drown him without the weight of everyone else he knows is hurting. There have been so many times over the years when he’s been able to pull through and help his friends through a riptide. This is not one of them.
Jeonghan puts on long sleeves and holds him some nights despite the lingering heat and humidity. Seokmin is a constant loving presence in his texts, sending long messages and photos of his cooking, a flower he saw on the way home, the rare sight of stars and the moon, uncaring of Seungkwan’s dotty replies. Hansol, ever observant, gives Seungkwan space.
On the days he is over, though, he’s as dependably peaceful of a presence as ever. They watch artsy, complicated films on the days Seungkwan is up to it, falling asleep on the couch together. Hansol’s the one waking up early to make him coffee now, and keeping up a hum of conversation with Jeonghan because he knows it pulls Seungkwan out of his head. He’s still always touching Seungkwan in some way, whether that’s a simple hand around Seungkwan’s wrist or the press of their legs next to each other on the sofa. After one exhausting schedule, Hansol pulls out a pair of old wired headphones and shares them with Seungkwan so he can fall asleep to the smooth r&b that Hansol’s fond of, instead of searching through his largely girl-group playlists.
It’s all terrible on a lot of days, but he’s got his people. Lights at the end of the tunnel, even on the nights when he sobs and crawls further into the dark and the pain. The stars in his night sky, alive and bright above all of his stormclouds.
Seungkwan is an island boy, though. He grew up among sand and sea and the smell of salt and orange blossoms in the air, sun warming his face and painting the sky gold. The thing about the old boats is that they always came back to the docks, pulled in by workers or the current. Seungkwan goes home, back to solid ground.
He gets picked up from the airport by his mother, getting in the backseat like he’s a kid and presses his face against the sun-warmed window. Her perfume smells like vanilla, permeating in the air between them after the hug she’d greeted him with, wordless and everything he’s been missing. It’s been months since he’s been home. It lingers in the car too, a sensory cue that he’s back in his hometown.
An eighties ballad plays softly as he hums and nods to everything he’s missed, which his mother recounts warmly. “Everyone has asked about you, Seungkwannie,” she says gently, and Seungkwan dusks behind the sleeve of his thin sweater so she doesn’t see the stinging tears that abruptly rush up.
“Ah, tell them— tell everyone not to worry about me, eomma,” he manages, “I’ll be okay.”
“You’re not okay now, are you, darling?” It’s phrased as a question, but Seungkwan knows she doesn’t need him to answer. He’s made of hurt, the kind without words that she felt anyway, warm hands examining his face, paler than usual.
“N–no. But I will be. I’m back home, and I’ve got you right now, right?” Seungkwan smiles through the lump in his throat. He meets his mother’s eye in the rearview mirror, knowing his are still red from not sleeping well and all the crying. The thing about loss is it’s so much more physical than you’d think; grief manifesting in the permanent swoop in his stomach when he remembers, and the way tears come easily. His body, exorcised of its memories inch by inch.
“And in Seoul? The members, Jeonghannie, they’re taking care of you?”
“I can take care of myself, eomma,” Seungkwan says ruefully, and before she can interject, “but yes , the members have helped. A lot. Jeonghan hyung, and Seokmin hyung, and— and Hansollie.”
“Good, good, you kids, you’ve always been good, huh?” his mother smiles, “How is everyone?”
“The hyungs— I can tell they’re having a hard time, and I feel bad—” Seungkwan cuts himself off. He’d said something similar a few days ago, and gotten firmly rebuked. Jeonghan, speaking with his mouth full and pointing his chopsticks at Seungkwan, eyes serious and kind despite the smear of jjajangmyeon sauce on his chin. He’d been so firm about it that Seungkwan shut up immediately. It hadn’t felt like the past, honestly, when he’d worry himself into a ball trying to figure out what he could do for his hyungs. Perhaps that’s the meaning of finding family.
( “Seungkwan-ah, come on. Let yourself come first for once.”
“Hyung—”
“No. We’re a team, we’ll be okay, Kwan-ah. Eat your food.” )
“—but everyone has been supporting each other. Our teamwork is paying off,” Seungkwan finishes.
“And Hansollie? Channie?”
“Channie’s okay, and Hansol. Hansol has been really kind, and patient with me,” Seungkwan says quietly, looking down at his hands. Picks at the peeling leather in the seat. “I’m really very lucky to have a friend like him. We— we care for each other.”
“Our Hansollie,” Eomma says, voice the exact same shade of fond as when she speaks to Seungkwan. “He’s good for you, Seungkwan-ah. Keep him close to you, hmm? You always sound happier mentioning him.”
He feels better when he thinks of Hansol too, honestly. Maybe not happier, not yet, but he thinks of Hansol and thinks of steadiness and unwavering brown eyes. Years of unspoken trust and the recent months of giggling into Hansol’s mouth and slowly, slowly unravelling everything they haven’t vocalized in the last decade together. Hansol, who feels like the waves on Seungkwan’s beach, always there in their personal little routine of back and forth. A dance turned duet.
“Yeah. I’ll keep him close, eomma , don’t worry.”
By the time they get home to a kitchen full of simmering food, Seungkwan’s all caught up on the neighborhood gossip. An island boy back in the rhythm of his home. He pads around the kitchen with bare feet and helps his mother set up their late lunch. Sun streams through the window by the sink, illuminating the soapy dishes and water droplets on the faucet handle.
The rest of the house gets back by the time Seungkwan’s eaten lunch, unpacked his suitcase properly into his childhood bedroom, recently aired out, and gone for a jog around his old elementary school haunts. Retracing over old memories fifteen years later, repainting vibrancy back into the echoes and sketches of laughing with his classmates and eating sticky candies in the summer and his yellow nails from peeling too many oranges.
He tucks himself into bed and opens his phone that night. Doesn’t open social media, because Seungcheol had told him to stick to his circle right now, and there, in his messages with Hansol. Good night, Boo. Listen to the ocean for me at some point; we’re stuck in traffic getting home from rehearsal rn. Polar bear sticker. The set Seungkwan had found for Hansol, actually, telling him to spice up his texts a little. He sends back a string of pink hearts and tells Hansol to be sure to take his supplements before bed. Texts a good night into the member group chat, and a selca into the gossip group chat. Turns off his alarms, and closes his eyes.
Summer is slow that year, but in the way taking a slow bike ride through a bumpy field is. The view is always beautiful, but there’s bumps, of course. The bitter disappointment of having to watch the start of the Follow tour as an audience and missing the feeling of being surrounded by joy is soothed by the silly videos Jun sends him from backstage, yelling “ Seungkwannie, save me from these freaks ” in the background. The persisting bad days eventually followed by the balm of being home and being loved, still. The embrace of his family and the view of the landscape greeting him from the tops of mountains that he snaps a picture of to show Carats and Hansol later. The view of the moon, rising above the horizon, when he takes a final walk along the beach the night before his flight back to Seoul.
The sight of Hansol walking through the door after Seungkwan’s spent an afternoon putting his clothes back in his closet and tidying the areas Jeonghan ignored, half-heartedly complaining in their texts.
“Seungkwan-ah,” Hansol’s voice is warm, clearer than the long conversations they’d had over the phone about each other’s day and the new animes Seungkwan’s been making Hansol watch with him. “I missed you, Boo.”
Chapped lips on his, and Hansol’s unstyled hair flopping ungracefully in his eyes. Love , different from the one back in Jeju, but love nonetheless that’s transformed to a second home also waiting for his return.
“I missed you too, Sollie. Come on, I bought everyone food back from Jeju.” They unpack Seungkwan’s food, and the takeout Hansol orders, and sit down at the kitchen table, facing each other.
“You look better, Seungkwan-ah,” Hansol comments midway through their meal.
Seungkwan hums. “I feel better,” he says, “I’m not sure if good is the word for it yet, but it’s… less than what it was before.” He waves a hand, as if that could encapsulate the storm that had been April and May.
“You look loved,” Hansol nods, “By your family, and by your friends.” He picks up a piece of meat and puts it in Seungkwan’s bowl before getting a piece for himself, watching Seungkwan all the while. He’s always so matter-of-fact about these things, noting facts and observations about Seungkwan as if they’re carved into the laws of the universe.
“Hey, don’t act like you’re not part of it,” Seungkwan smiles, “I have my friends and my family, sure, but I have you too, don’t I?”
“Always,” Hansol agrees, hooking their ankles together in silent confirmation.
Seungkwan’s rested enough by August that he can almost approach each day with the same fervor as before, even if the new presence of grief is a permanent whisper in the back of his mind. It’s enough to meet up with his members and his friends again, and get back into the studio with Jihoon.
Seungcheol’s injury shakes them all, but especially Jeonghan. Seungkwan does what he knows best— keeps them both fed and sleeping, even through video calls to Japan. Heads over to Seungcheol’s house while the others are away to bully him into sleeping normally and eating according to Seungkwan’s recommendations and research. He suspects his hyung mostly listens just to humor him, but he’s not gonna question it. He calls Jeonghan every single night before Hansol to put relief back into his voice and send him dumb photos of Seungcheol and himself.
“Our Seungkwannie,” Jeonghan sighs one night, “You’re still following my advice as well, right? Look after yourself as well.”
“As much as I can, hyung,” Seungkwan says completely honestly. He’s back in his own bed after forcing Seungcheol into bed instead of gaming on LoL. That had taken some reinforcements in the form of Wonwoo texting their leader, and some lighthearted threatening to kidnap Kkuma. Seungcheol usually bends if Seungkwan gets Jeonghan or his dog involved. It’s all really stupid if he thinks about it.
“Good, good,” Jeonghan yawns. “Oh, Vernonie’s here. Hansol-ah, plug in my phone to charge after you’re done talking to Seungkwan, ‘kay?” Seungkwan muffles a laugh at Hansol’s eye roll, and Jeonghan, not waiting for an answer and faceplanting into his bed in the background.
“Love you, Jeonghan hyung,” he calls. Jeonghan groans something unintelligible in response.
“Love you, Boo,” Hansol says.
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
Seungkwan is just drunk enough to not start panicking halfway through the group’s giggly “kidnapping” when he realizes they’re headed to Hansol’s room next. Hansol has a habit of saying whatever’s on his mind when he’s sleepy— Seungkwan is very firmly the one with the variety skills in the relationship. He doesn’t know how to bring it up, is the thing. He’s grown close with Na PD over the last year or so, but certainly not enough to ask “Hey, could I be the only one to wake my boyfriend up so he doesn’t out the two of us in front of three different cameras?”
In the end, though, he doesn’t have to. He shoves his way to the front of the group easily, and slumps in relief when he doesn’t feel anyone else slipping through the door into the dark hotel room. It’s a little hard navigating through the pitch-black room in his tipsy state, but he manages to fumble in the direction of the bed.
“ Vernon ,” he hisses, hoping the use of Hansol’s English name triggers some kind of warning that they’re not alone. He feels Hansol jerk from asleep to awake through his hand on the comforter, and Hansol blearily groans out his name.
“Seungkwan? What—” Seungkwan flounders and turns the bedside table, flushing even more when he realizes Hansol’s shirtless. Of course. He knows this, knows both of their sleeping habits. Hansol blinks up at him, eyeshadow still smudged along his waterline. He looks good. Disheveled in an embarrassingly familiar way. God, Seungkwan needs to get it together. There’s cameras about to rush in within the next ten seconds.
“Cover your body, Vernonie,” he whispers panickedly, “You gotta get up, okay? The blanket—”
He grips Hansol’s wrist urgently, and hears nothing, until Hansol presumably realizes he’s going to be on camera in the next few seconds, and fuck, my makeup. I look terrible right now, what—
“Chwe Hansol, you look fine, stop thinking stupid things,” Seungkwan hisses into his ear before the lights come on with a click and the rest of the group tumbles in. Their time’s up. Seungkwan moves hurriedly to the back of the group, catching Jeonghan giving him a significant look. They’ll unpack that later, when he’s less drunk and more conscious of what he’s saying.
He furrows his brow at the way Hansol’s ducking his head, clearly caught off guard at the sudden transition from sleep to idol. He forgets, sometimes, that for all of Hansol’s nonchalance about his clothes or hair when they’re eating together or existing peacefully in private, he’s got the same hang-ups about appearance as the rest of them. He knows, even with Na PD’s reassurance, Hansol’s going into panic mode, shutting down out of embarrassment.
Another member quickly gets the camera’s attention, though, and they move on quickly to plan out the next entrance into Minghao’s room. Seungkwan keeps half an eye on Hansol, who’s pulled a cap over his eyes and is either panicking or falling asleep again in the corner. He’s a little concerned about the camera still clearly capturing all of it, but he trusts the editing team. It’s fine, they’re fine, he has to do his job .
Hansollie’s okay , Joshua thinks at Seungkwan while they’re heading to the bus, ruffling Seungkwan’s hair. It’s a little embarrassing that his members can all definitely tell that he’s more than preoccupied with his boyfriend.
By the time they’re in the bus and saying goodbye to their CEO and waving at Seungcheol (Jeonghan with a bittersweet air), Hansol’s definitely recovered a little. Seungkwan sees him sitting in his usual subdued slouch, but it’s still too risky to seek him out directly, with all the members and staff watching, on top of him still being a little tipsy.
They make eye contact once, and then Hansol looks away, drawn into a conversation by Minghao. Seungkwan feels the irrational need to shove his way next to Hansol’s side and pull his face toward him, make sure he’s really okay now. Minghao would have noticed, though, and he’s good at checking in on the members. He reluctantly accepts their distance for now.
It feels terribly reminiscent of the last tour that he’d done this often, stumbling tipsy and giggly into Hansol’s bed and letting the alcohol get kissed off of his lips. At least he has the soju to blame right now for his red cheeks, even if the real reason is just the memory of that one night they shared a bottle of wine with Joshua and then went back to Hansol’s room to kiss for another hour, breathless and sweaty until Hansol’s makeup looked similarly messed up. He’s still got that bad habit of not wiping off his stage makeup, much to the chagrin of Seungkwan and their dermatologists.
They haven’t done it much recently, despite the clear want still hanging between them. Seungkwan knows he wants it, knows Hansol would be perfectly happy to return to long makeout sessions at the end of their dates or after rehearsals together. And it’s not like they’ve gone entirely without .
There was last month, where Hansol came over after a morning in the gym with Mingyu and Seungkwan shoved him into the shower fully clothed to drag a hand through his sweaty hair and pull him in for a filthy kiss before flouncing off and leaving Hansol with his mouth hanging slightly open. And also two weeks ago, after that brand event— the point is, he’s gotten over his hangups about kissing. He’s starting to feel mild regret at his whole declaration of taking it slow, because Hansol has been obediently sticking to that rule, and Seungkwan would really like for his boyfriend to actually act on the increasingly obvious want between them one of these days and shove him into a wall or something. Christ.
There’s just the remaining guilt seeped into the corners of his head and in his worst impulses. Guilt, still, at how they started and how long he made the two of them dance around the issue, even if Hansol's been unravelling that tight spool around his heart with soft hands and sincere compliments every chance he can get.
There’s also the guilt about the secret burning a hole in his tongue every time he leans into Hansol and hears the fragments of whatever thoughts aren’t directed at Seungkwan. Grief, too. It’s been a year of loss and reward for him, and there’s a panicky little fear that if he opens himself up even further without talking to Hansol first, all of that fear and guilt is going to overflow, and flush out every bit of happiness he’s managed to rebuild for himself.
It doesn’t stop the pervasive wanting between them (or, as Joshua calls it, “tooth-rotting eye fucking,” because his hyung is absolutely terrible, gentleman image be damned), but it definitely gets in the way of Seungkwan pulling himself together long enough to finally clear the remaining air between himself and Hansol.
The logical part of his brain tells him, irritatingly, that he really should just talk to Hansol, and that there’s nothing to worry about. Seungkwan trusts Hansol with his life and he knows they’ll make it out of that conversation fine. Great, even. He’s just never been particularly good at logical, and besides, he’s going to have to push it at least a few weeks more. He’s not going to reveal a defining secret about himself and beg his boyfriend to finally fuck the overthinking out of him in a foreign country.
Hansol seems determined to make it fucking difficult for Seungkwan, though. He looks good in the Italian sun, even when he’s posing dorkily for the camera, or infodumping excitedly about Ancient Rome. Seungkwan just knows he’s going to have to watch documentaries about Rome for the next two weeks after they get back to Korea. It’s a little concerning how excited he is for it.
He feels underdressed in a plain t-shirt and shorts until Hansol thumbs the neckline of his shirt and calls him pretty in that specific tone of his. Seungkwan bats his hand away before he can react, but Hansol has that satisfied little grin he adopts when he successfully flusters Seungkwan anyway.
He decides to avoid his own inner turmoil/horniness with his most well-worn trick, which is fussing over everyone else. Looking out for the producers and cameramen, making sure the show stays entertaining, and sticking close to Jeonghan, whose thoughts wander off to Seungcheol more and more. They’ve got a short break in between the scheduled activities, and they're sitting on a pool chair together while Seokmin and Mingyu fuck around by the pool. Seungkwan absently notes that he needs to remind them to put sunscreen on later. It’s only mid-morning, and the sun’s already burning hot.
“Hey, stop being grumpy,” Seungkwan pokes Jeonghan’s shoulder, like he isn’t doing the same thing with Hansol, “Seungcheol hyung is happy enough knowing you’re having fun here.”
Jeonghan purses his lips, sighs, and leans his head on Seungkwan’s shoulder. “I know, I know. It’s just. He was so excited, you know? Mentioned it so much when we were talking about filming schedules, and there’s this Italian place back home that we go to sometimes for dates. And maybe I just wish he were here, to hold my hand and complain about you kids, or something.” Seungkwan doesn’t say anything, just smoothes out his hyung’s hair and marinates a little in the silence.
Jeonghan and Seungcheol have always been the blueprint of love for Seungkwan, ever since he found out in their dorms. The perfect balance of hot and cold, Jeonghan happy to let himself be pulled into Seungcheol’s warmth, and Seungcheol always looking back at Jeonghan to see what he can do for his boyfriend. They bring out the best in each other, always have.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t feel that vague ache of envy he used to feel around their love, equal parts admiring and painfully jealous. He just feels empathetic, listening to Jeonghan wistfully recall Seungcheol’s pasta order in his head. Seungkwan has his own person now, grounding and calming amongst the storm of emotion Seungkwan gets caught up in so often. He suddenly thinks about the couple of months he spent without Hansol. He hadn’t really thought about whether Hansol missed him, whether he also looked for Seungkwan in the crowd of members the way Jeonghan’s done a couple of times over the last few days. Selfishly, he kind wishes that were true, that he's as dear of a presence in Hansol's life as he is in Seungkwan's.
“Ah, you ‘n Hansollie are cute,” Jeonghan sighs abruptly. Seungkwan seriously thinks his hyung might also have mind-reading abilities. He doesn’t, but it would really explain so much.
“Hansol doesn’t know about… the thing yet,” Seungkwan says quietly. Jeonghan hums.
“Are you overthinking it again, Kwannie?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know, hyung, there’s no guide for this. I get scared every time I think about it.”
“Does thinking about Hansollie make you scared, or just yourself, Seungkwan-ah?”
“Stop trying to psychoanalyze me.”
“Answer the question.”
Seungkwan sighs. “Myself. Obviously. I’m always the one overthinking, between the two of us. Hansol’s always so sure of himself, doesn’t even have to think about it. He just knows things about himself.”
“Mm, I think Hansollie is a lot more unsure than you think, Seungkwan-ah. He’s always staring at you like a lost sheep when you’re upset about something.” Jeonghan lifts his head up, looking at Seungkwan with inquisitive eyes. “Don’t downplay yourself so much, okay? And talk to him, soon. I have no qualms about locking you two in a room together, you know.”
“You’re terrible, hyung.”
“Love you too,” Jeonghan smiles, and gets up to go bother Seokmin. Seungkwan listens to Jeonghan’s creaky laughter and Seokmin’s whining, and smiles.
“Hey, Boo,” Hansol says from behind him. Seungkwan jumps a little, looking back at his boyfriend. Hansol clambers onto the pool chair, leaning back onto his palms. He’s got a little bit of a tan already, skin bright from the hours they’ve spent running around in the sun. Seungkwan wants to kiss the freckle on his nose and knock off the dumb snapback Hansol still has on.
“Hansollie,” he says, tearing his eyes away to meet Hansol’s gaze. “You look cute.”
“So do you,” Hansol replies easily, knocking their feet together. Seungkwan looks around for cameras. There is a cameraman, but he’s more preoccupied with Mingyu, who’s just jumped into the pool. Bless Kim Mingyu and his barely-hidden exhibitionist streak. The pool water is really doing everything for his tits. Carats are gonna love this. Hansol follows Seungkwan’s gaze and whines a little.
“Hey, I just complimented you, stop looking at Mingyu hyung’s abs,” he complains. Seungkwan snorts and shoves him.
“Aw, is Hansollie jealous?” he teases. Hansol scowls at him, mostly for show, but it still makes Seungkwan melt a little.
“Don’t worry, you’re the only one I want, Sol-ah,” he says, and then, feeling a little reckless from the food and the sun, “And you’re the only one who’ll get to have me, right?”
He can’t help his smirk at the way Hansol tenses and relaxes, knuckles tightening on the edge of the pool chair, shivering at Seungkwan’s hot breath against his ear. Seungkwan might be an overthinker and kind of neurotic, but he’s no stranger to flirting and teasing.
“Boo,” Hansol breathes out, “Don't say that to me while we're in public.”
“Just wanted you to know,” Seungkwan grins, “You don't need to get jealous, okay, baby?” He throws in the pet name just to be evil. He's only ever called Hansol that name while wishing him goodnight in the privacy of his room, or when he's pressing the word along the line of Hansol's neck. He can tell from the tension in Hansol’s frame he’s thinking of exactly that.
“Mingyu hyung, come put on sunscreen before you get a burn,” Seungkwan calls, jumping up before Hansol's hand on his knee can tighten. He throws a look over his shoulder just for fun, though, and is met with two brown eyes, dark from Seungkwan's teasing.
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
Honestly, it’s the best Seungkwan has felt all year, honestly, eating as much as he wants without too much thought for diets and looks for now. He can tell this trip is going to become one of those memories locked in his heart, surrounded by Italian sun and the salty ocean breeze. The smell of pasta in the kitchen, laughing hysterically playing the whisper game, and always, always, reaching through the wall of noise to reach for Hansol.
It's Hansol he wants when the talent show is over and he's doing his best to keep it together in Seokmin's arms, and Hansol who pulls him into a blind spot away from the cameras, kisses the tears from his cheeks. Seungkwan rubs the moisture from his eyes to meet Hansol’s worried gaze, offering a weak smile.
“You did great, Seungkwan-ah,” he says honestly, “You sounded beautiful.”
It's an I love you without Hansol actually saying it, and Seungkwan feels his eyes sting again at how unbearably in love he is. “You'll be okay going back out there?”
Seungkwan nods. “Mhm. I just. I forgot how healing it is to just sing, you know? Singing for the sake of the music. And for the people.”
“Okay,” Hansol says simply, hugging Seungkwan tightly before letting go and allowing the hyungs to pull him away. Minghao and Joshua take Hansol’s place after a beat. Minghao slings an arm around Seungkwan and murmurs encouragement, telling him he did a great job. His accent curls comfortingly around the words, steady and confident like the man himself.
Seungkwan still feels a little shaky, but it’s okay, all things considered. The members are there, and all the staff compliment him as he’s helping with the cleanup, and Hansol is always there in the corner of his vision.
The cameras turn off for the night a few hours later, and Seungkwan stays awake, despite adjusting to the time difference already. He can hear Mingyu snoring gently, and the murmurs of the staff slowly disappearing as the house falls asleep.
He wants Hansol, even with the members around them. It's reckless, and usually he's got a better grip on his impulses, but:
“Seungkwan?” Hansol mumbles immediately when he's jostled awake. Big brown eyes blinking up at Seungkwan looming over his bed. He’s suddenly aware of how ridiculous they look. “Sorry, am I getting kidnapped again?”
“Shut up,” Seungkwan huffs, feeling Hansol shake with laughter. “I just. Would you want to go stargaze with me? God, that sounded really dumb, you can go back to sleep if you want—”
“Seungkwan-ah. Of course, Boo. I’d be down to hang out with you any time of the day.”
“Oh.” Hansol swings himself upright, shoving a hand through his hair and allowing Seungkwan to noiselessly lead him out to the patio area.
It's a gorgeous night, and the stars are vibrant, stunning in a way they'd never be able to get in Seoul. Seungkwan stares up for a long moment. The stargazing had been a half-assed excuse, but the view really is something out of a painting. There's the moon, and probably a good few constellations he can't name. Hansol would know them; he had an astrology phase for a month and a half once. He takes Seungkwan’s hand, pulling him toward a chair and tugging him into his lap.
“What’s up, Boo?” Seungkwan doesn’t respond for a moment, head on Hansol’s shoulder, breathing in the unfamiliar smell of the cheap shampoo they’d been provided with. Hansol usually smells like sandalwood and lavender. He finds himself missing the scent.
“Today was… kind of tough. In a good way, I mean, I had a lot of fun. I just wanted some time alone with you, I guess. It’s peaceful with you,” Seungkwan mumbles in Hansol’s neck.
“I’m glad I’m a help to you,” Hansol says. Seungkwan hears the barest trace of uncertainty in his voice.
“Of course, Sollie. You’ve always been my quiet spot, sweetheart.” Hansol relaxes a little at that, and they fall back into a comfortable silence.
He feels Hansol raise one hand up to stroke down the length of Seungkwan’s back, coming to a stop on his waist. Again, that feeling of deja vu. He raises his head, pulls back to look at Hansol’s expression— wide open and inviting. Waiting for Seungkwan to make the first move.
He sucks in a breath and slots their lips together, eyes fluttering closed as Hansol deepens the kiss, teeth scraping lightly on Seungkwan’s bottom lip. His hands tighten on Seungkwan’s hips, pulling him closer to Hansol, palms spread out on his solid chest.
It gets messy, fast, Seungkwan wound up from the teasing earlier and the last month of wanting. Hansol indulges him, taking the lead and tilting his head up so Seungkwan has better access. He has to muffle a groan when Hansol bites down properly on his lips; they’re not alone here, this is already pushing the limits of what they can do.
Eventually, they have to pull back for air, separating with a slick pop. Seungkwan pants shallowly and stares at Hansol’s swollen lips; he’s sure he looks worse. Hansol’s always so bitey when they kiss, teeth digging into the soft pink of Seungkwan’s mouth if the kiss lasts for longer than a few seconds. Hansol’s eyes are blown out and dark in the moonlight. Seungkwan hums. Shifts his legs so he’s properly straddling Hansol. Licks his lips, tasting the last remnants of his lip balm. Hansol’s eyes follow the movement greedily.
There’s a whine in the back of Seungkwan’s throat when Hansol brings a hand up to the back of his neck and tugs him back into a kiss, red-hot and perfect. Hansol’s hands start wandering again, up and down Seungkwan’s back and then down to the top of his ass, pulling Seungkwan flush against him and making both of them gasp at the friction.
Seungkwan can’t help himself— it’s been literal months since they did anything close to this, and he feels drunk on the countryside air and the little groans Hansol’s making with each slide of Seungkwan’s tongue in his mouth. Overdue communication be damned, he wants something .
He grinds down experimentally, and is rewarded with Hansol moaning into his mouth, hips jerking up. Seungkwan loses himself in the feeling of rocking on top of Hansol for an undetermined amount of time, desperation fueling his movements. Hansol’s hands might bruise his hips with how hard he’s gripping Seungkwan, keeping him pressed up against their clothed erections. He feels another spike of heat at the thought of hand shaped bruises on his hips; a pantomime of what else they could be doing.
Then Hansol pulls back, one hand in Seungkwan’s hair, and he smiles a little at the needy sound Seungkwan makes. “Wait, Boo. I— how far do you want to go here?”
God . Seungkwan wants to say as far as we can , but his boyfriend is tragically clear headed. This is already toeing the edge of what they actually can do. As much as he fucking needs it, he’s also an idol in a house full of cameras and nosy members, half of which are extremely light sleepers.
“Goddamnit,” he mutters. A laugh vibrates through Hansol’s chest. “ Fuck . I want— but we can’t. Not here.”
“I figured,” Hansol says sympathetically, like he’s not also part of the problem. “‘M sorry, baby. We’ll have to wait.”
“This is so unfair .”
“I know, Boo, I know.”
“Fuckin’ cameras ,” Seungkwan sulks. Hansol cups his cheek with one hand and kisses him simply, sweet, but still intense.
“Wanna head to bed? I’d suggest stargazing, but you look really hot, and I’m kinda suffering here as well,” Hansol says ruefully. Seungkwan pouts.
“Fine. Only ‘cause I’m getting sleepy anyway.” They both shiver a little as Seungkwan reluctantly clambers down from Hansol’s lap, still visibly worked up. Hansol stands up, offering a hand to Seungkwan.
They walk back into the house holding hands, and Hansol is about to turn to his room when Seungkwan pulls him to a stop, still feeling a little insane from having Hansol right there, and having to pull back again. He brings his mouth to Hansol’s ear, and hisses, “I know you’re right about us stopping here tonight, but when we get back to Korea, Chwe Hansol, you’d better come over and fuck me like you mean it, got it?”
He turns sharply and hurries away, but not before he hears the sharp breath Hansol sucks in.
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
They mostly return to normal the next day, and Seungkwan is fully prepared to compartmentalize like he’s always done until they’re done with Italy and done with the video shoot, but then they’re playing the mafia game, and Hansol’s grinning and accusing him even though he knows from Jihoon that Hansol’s the mafia, not him.
“You never even look at me this closely outside of games,” he scoffs, and Hansol pauses for a second before retorting:
“Hey, I look at you more than you think!” Seungkwan flounders a little at that. What does that even mean? Jihoon audibly snorts a little beside Seungkwan, tugging him back down in his chair. Yeah, no shit, Hansol-ah. Why say something that obvious in front of a camera, seriously, this kid.
Any reaction Seungkwan could’ve had to that particular thought is immediately drowned out by the continued arguing. Soonyoung is in his element, predictably, and Seungkwan knows to play along, getting confirmation from Mingyu that Hansol is the mafia. He gets killed, which he kind of expected, because Hansol is perceptive as hell and sneakily smart with these games, and he dutifully lurches out of his seat to play up the betrayal. It’s a very standard couple of mafia games, all things considered. The only thing missing is Soonyoung and Mingyu’s bickering, but Mingyu luckily removed himself from the equation, so Soonyoung turned to tormenting Wonwoo and Minghao instead. Seungkwan could see Chan looking fond the whole time, idiot.
Jihoon’s thoughts are still on his mind at the end of the day, when they’re getting ready for bed again. He really shouldn’t be up this late for the second day in a row— they’re leaving tomorrow morning and going straight into dance practice— but he’s not going to get any rest anyways.
meet me outside again? Seungkwan texts, and then, remembering, not for anything weird!! I just wanted to ask you about something earlier. The ‘read’ marker pops up a few seconds later, and Hansol sends back a single thumbs up.
“Hey,” Hansol greets, wrapping himself around Seungkwan.
“Hi.”
“So, what’d you want to ask me about?”
“Earlier. What did Jihoon hyung mean about it being obvious that you ‘looked at me more often than I knew’?” Hansol stills, turning the question over in his head.
“I mean… I do look at you more than you notice. Hyung’s been the one to mention it to me a couple times, and uh, I kind of talk about you a lot in the studio? He says it’s like, gross.” Seungkwan laughs at that, but Hansol peels himself off of him, turning to look at him.
“When did Jihoon hyung say that, though? I didn’t see him say anything to you earlier.”
Oh. Oh, Seungkwan is so fucking fucked. Jihoon didn’t say that out loud, he thought it, except Seungkwan is stupid when it comes to Hansol and he told Hansol. Who is, again, extremely perceptive about these kinds of things, and inquisitive to a fault. He’s going to want an explanation. One that Seungkwan hasn’t thought of yet, because he thought he had more time for this. God fucking damnit. He’s terrible at lying to Hansol as well; that was the whole reason Hansol clocked him as mafia immediately.
“... Seungkwan?”
“I— fucking hell, I can’t even lie, huh?” Hansol’s eyebrows draw together.
“Uh, is there something to lie about? I probably just didn’t notice Jihoon talking to you—”
Seungkwan makes a noise of distress. This is what he gets for his recklessness yesterday. All of his sense and caution thrown out the window, just like that. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Yoon Jeonghan suggests, snarkily, that maybe he should just go ahead and say it. He hates when Jeonghan is right.
“You need to promise me you’ll believe me,” Seungkwan starts. Hansol nods, eyes wide and confused.
“Jihoon hyung didn’t tell me it was obvious. He just thought it, and I heard him. I. Uh. Can hear thoughts, when I make physical contact with someone.”
There’s a long beat of silence. It’s quite possibly the most painful experience of Seungkwan’s life. He wants to jump off this patio. Hansol visibly works through that thought. Seungkwan desperately wishes he could hear what his boyfriend is thinking, but he gets the same old silence.
“Think anything, anything from today,” he bursts out. Hansol cocks his head, and then: Dokeyom was the doctor?
“Yes, Dokyeom was the doctor,” Seungkwan says, “and honestly I don’t know why we spent so long debating that— anyways. See? Think of something else.” Silence.
“No, not me ,” he huffs frustratedly, “I can’t hear it if the thoughts are directly about me. You’re always doing that, aren’t you?”
Pasta. “Pasta.” Seungcheol hyung . “Seungcheol hyung.” Oranges? “Oranges.” Silence. “Seriously, Hansol, I mean it. I can’t hear it when it’s me.”
Hansol purses his lips, and Seungkwan’s stomach drops horribly. What if he still doesn’t believe him, or he’s pissed at Seungkwan, or any other of the myriad of things that could ruin them? “Wait, you really can’t hear when I think of you?” Seungkwan blinks.
“Yes. I just told you, like, ten seconds ago.”
“But you can hear everyone else?”
“Yeah, if they’re touching me, but again, not if they’re thinking about me.” Hansol’s frown deepens.
“Okay, but that seems unfair.” Seungkwan throws up his hands.
“God, what did I even expect? I thought you were going to like, break up with me over this or something, oof —” Hansol pulls Seungkwan in and hugs him. He softens into it after a surprised jerk.
“Hey. I’d never do that to you, okay? Did you really think that?”
Seungkwan stammers, looking for words. “I mean, this is kind of huge, and I’ve been hiding it from you, and most of the group, but it’s not really something to spread around, you know? I’ve just always thought if I could help people with it, it would be enough.”
Hansol tucks a strand of hair behind Seungkwan’s ear. “This is really big to carry, Seungkwan-ah. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you, trying to account for everyone on this kind of level.”
Ah. Chwe Hansol, always managing to surprise Seungkwan. He kind of wants to cry. “It makes me useful,” he mumbles. Hansol grasps both his wrists, pinning Seungkwan underneath the weight of his gaze.
“Boo Seungkwan, don’t ever reduce yourself to how useful you are, got it? The whole team loves you for who you are. I love you as you are, and if you can’t hear that, I’ll spend the rest of my life saying it to you just to let you know.”
Seungkwan kisses him, what else is he supposed to do? Hansol’s head is predictably blank as usual, except this time Seungkwan can’t convince himself that it’s not firmly about how much Hansol likes— no, loves him. He tastes like toothpaste. Seungkwan pulls back, pecking the corner of Hansol’s mouth one last time.
“I love you.”
“Love you too, Boo.” They’re just looking at each other for a moment, before Hansol tilts his head again.
“Wait. I remember you heard me, back in the hotel.”
“What?”
“Yeah, when we were getting kidnapped! You told me to stop thinking stupid things . I thought I’d just spoken out loud, but you heard me, didn’t you?” Seungkwan groans. He barely remembers saying that, actually, but it checks out. He’s always had a big mouth after he gets halfway through a bottle of soju.
“Ugh, why do you have to remember everything I say?”
“I just pay a lot of attention to you, Boo.”
“This would’ve been really helpful a year ago when I was convinced you didn’t actually want me,” Seungkwan says grumpily. Hansol’s frown comes back with a vengeance.
“But if you could tell I was thinking about you—”
“Not entirely! I mean, yeah, I figured you were thinking of me, but we were making out. I’d be really offended if you were thinking of someone else, not to mention I’d know . I just. I wasn’t sure if you were thinking what I felt, and I was too scared to say anything to you ‘cause I didn’t want to ruin it,” Seungkwan explains. Hansol chews on his bottom lip.
“I still think it’s unfair,” he says finally, “‘Cause I’m always thinking about how kind and smart and beautiful you are, Seungkwan. And I wish you could hear it, but,” and he looks determinedly at Seungkwan, “I meant it when I said I’d spend the rest of my life telling you, Boo. I was always thinking about how much I liked you last year.”
“Oh,” Seungkwan says pathetically. He’s feeling a little fuzzy around the corners, actually. Hansol doesn’t seem to mind his silence, kissing Seungkwan again, and nudging him back towards the house after a few minutes. A breeze ruffles through their hair, cool on Seungkwan’s heated face.
“I’m glad you told me, Boo, even if it wasn’t planned. I’m always here to talk if you’re worrying about something, ‘kay?”
Hansol squeezes Seungkwan’s hand, eyes soft. This time, they cling to each other for as long as they can, until Hansol lets his outstretched hand drop. “‘Night, Boo.”
The cameras are all packed away by the time they wake up the next morning. Seungkwan’s grateful he doesn’t need to monitor his expression as he mournfully begins organizing the souvenirs he’d picked up over the course of the last week, Jeonghan observing. He somehow managed to convince Mingyu to carry the couple of items he has. Seungkwan doesn’t ask; his hyung works in odd ways.
“Oh,” he says, remembering. “I told Hansol last night.”
Jeonghan’s face goes through a comically fast series of emotions— surprise, disbelief, curiosity, and then his scheming face. The one where his eyes go all dead and glassy, like a dead beetle.
(Seungkwan knows Seungcheol thinks it’s cute, but that’s because Seungcheol is into weird scheme-y freaks who weaponize their pretty faces to convince people to do stuff like buy a Valentine’s exclusive Dyson set.)
“Joshuji,” he calls, raising his voice. Seokmin is apparently the only one who hears him, but just as well, because he yells loud enough for the rest of the house to hear. “ Shua hyung! Jeonghan hyung’s asking for you! ”
“Yoon Jeonghan, don’t you have shit to do?” Joshua greets them with, flopping down on Seungkwan’s bed. He was trying to make his bed, goddamnit. All of his hyungs are fucking slobs. He tugs pointedly on the creased duvet. Joshua doesn’t move.
“Seungkwannie, tell us everything.”
“Wait, you told Hansol?” Joshua’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open dramatically. He rolls onto his stomach to better grace Seungkwan with his disbelieving face.
“Are you two also hiding psychic abilities from me, or something?” Seungkwan grumbles. Joshua rolls his eyes. “Fine, okay, yes. I told him last night. Accidentally, actually, ‘cause I forgot that Jihoon hyung hadn’t actually said something out loud and asked Hansol about it, and he’s, like, annoyingly smart.”
“You’re into it,” Joshua says smartly, “Why were you asking Hansol about what Jihoonie was thinking?”
“He, uh.” Seungkwan ducks his head down in embarrassment, hand fluttering through the air, “He thought something about Hansol apparently staring at me all the time. Is it really that obvious?” The matching deadpan looks he gets are answer enough.
“Oh. Okay, well, clearly I’ve been missing some clues,” Seungkwan huffs.
“I mean, we did try and tell you,” Jeonghan yawns, “You just didn’t listen.” He shoves his feet under Joshua’s shirt, apparently done with the mini-interrogation. Hansol chooses that moment to open the door, blinking at Joshua dragging Jeonghan off of him by the collar of his shirt, cursing up a storm in English. Their hyungs are a disgrace to society, seriously.
“Ignore them,” Seungkwan calls. Hansol’s attention snaps to him, and his face splits into a soft smile. Is that how he looks at Seungkwan all the time? He likes to think he’d have noticed it, but Seungkwan is discovering his ability to block out painfully obvious moments, like Hansol’s eyes visibly trailing down his body and back.
“Hi. There’s breakfast on the table if you’re hungry,” Hansol offers, “and we’re leaving in an hour or so.”
“Okay, let me just finish checking the room for my stuff. And make my bed again, when these two remember to act their age.”
Seungkwan expects the warm line of his— boyfriend pressing up against his back now, especially now it’s just them and the members. Hansol presses a good morning kiss into Seungkwan’s neck, then lopes out of the room smirking at the flush crawling up Seungkwan’s neck. Jeonghan looks up from tussling with Joshua and tells him he looks “ so gay.” Seungkwan throws a pillow at his face.
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
It’s not like Seungkwan’s waiting for something to happen when they finally get back to Korea and readjust back to a normal sleep schedule. The second comeback of the year looms immediately in their schedules. He’s a pro, he knows they just don’t have time for the next month or so.
In his downtime, though, sinking into the sheets after another day of music shows and interviews and variety shows, Seungkwan doesn’t have to be pro idol of eight years. He’s only human, and he wants Hansol . Especially now, because Hansol seems to have made it his personal mission to make it increasingly difficult for Seungkwan to not just drag him into the Inkigayo bathrooms and work out his incessant horniness.
Their dynamic hasn’t changed on camera, but Hansol keeps running his mouth off the camera, whispering in Seungkwan’s ear about how good he looks, or how he did a good job answering a question earlier, or even just a quick squeeze of Seungkwan’s wrist and a smiley “fighting!” It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to Seungkwan.
“Maybe he’s just figured out your praise kink,” Chan snorts when Seungkwan corners him in a corner of their practice room to complain about it. The rest of the group know the barest details of the situation of Seungkwan-and-Hansol, but it’s an established fact that they’re together now. Chan had simply texted Seungkwan, finally, hyung. You guys are so slow .
“ You have a praise kink,” Seungkwan snaps back extremely maturely. It’s not like he’s wrong , though. The problem of Soonyoung and Chan thinking too much about all the nasty things that happen in Chan’s bed when the group is together is still going on.
Chan punches Seungkwan in the shoulder. “Whatever, but like, come on. Anyone who knows you can see the way you light up when producers or staff compliment you. It’s not exactly a hard guess, and Hansol knows you better than anyone else.”
“It’s really not like that, he just keeps telling me ordinary things, like how he liked my joke during yesterday’s shoot, or my makeup, or some song that reminds him of me. He never says this stuff to anyone,” Seungkwan says, not exactly frustrated.
“Yes, well, when two people are in a relationship, they generally tend to let their partner know they like them,” Chan says waspishly. “I know you have that whole complex of thinking you can just tell ,” because Seungkwan generally can, “but I’m gonna assume Vernon hyung is just doing the very normal thing of letting you know he’s thinking about you, the person he’s in love with, hm?”
“You’re not supposed to be smarter than me,” Seungkwan grumbles.
“I’ve always been smarter than you, couldn’t you tell?” Soonyoung calls them both over before Seungkwan can really get into the slap fight that ensues, but he’s a little more reassured. He thinks back to Italy, that very last night with just the two of them. I’d spend the rest of my life telling you, Boo. I was always thinking about how much I liked you last year.
Chwe Hansol is a person who keeps his promises, Seungkwan knows. He doesn’t make them often, but when he does, he follows through with the same dedication he gives to his music and his dorky film reviews. Seungkwan supposes he’s just going to have to remind himself that he’s one of Hansol’s serious promises now.
He’s greeted the next day in a greenroom before a GoSe shoot by Hansol handing him an Americano— he’d been a little late getting out of the house and hadn’t wanted to risk delaying hair and makeup, so he’d just dealt with the sleepiness by dozing in the car and sending Hansol an unhappy text about it.
“I love you,” he sighs when Hansol nudges the straw to Seungkwan’s mouth. His boyfriend blinks a little, mouth parting. Seungkwan realizes he said that out loud, and immediately ducks his head in embarrassment. Nobody’s really paying attention to them— Seokmin is singing his heart out in the corner while Minghao fumbles for his earbuds. Seungkwan’s makeup artist is rearranging her station.
“Love you too,” Hansol recovers. Seungkwan grins at the monotone timbre of his response. Hansol must be sleepy too; his voice always flattens when he’s either falling asleep or just waking up.
“Thanks for always thinking about me,” Seungkwan says honestly. He realizes halfway to the makeup stations how that sounds, but he glances back and Hansol is smiling back softly. He understands it.
Perhaps this is what growing up feels like, cracking open his head and heart because he’s learned to trust himself and trust his people. Maturing past the teenage paradox of trying to grow into a distant, adult version of himself and still desperately trying to stay unchanged from the nostalgia of childhood. Seungkwan’s always counted himself lucky to have this group of people at his side to allow into his messy, imperfect self. He thinks he’s starting to appreciate the depth of his luck.
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
boo 🐻 (10:30 PM)
there’s that free weekend coming up..
I’m not going to plan anything on those two days
like seriously
hansol 🐻❄️ (10:31 PM)
ah I mean I was going to hang out in the studio or something
boo 🐻 (10:31 PM)
stop working so much!! you’re going to stay up too late and mess up your sleep schedule!!
you could just
yknow
come over and eat a meal with me?
hansol 🐻❄️ (10:33 PM)
…
sure eomma
boo 🐻 (10:33 PM)
chwe hansol don’t be a brat
I’m allowed to be concerned for your health as your boyfriend you know!!
hansol 🐻❄️ (10:34 PM)
of course, baby
Finally, finally, they see a brief lull in activities before award show season ramps up and eats up all of their energy again. Seungkwan’s carried through the last couple of schedules with the knowledge that there’s a whole weekend where he doesn’t have to do anything at all, confirmed through begging his manager to not agree to anything for those two precious days.
He has a plan , okay?
One that involves begging Hansol ’s manager to not schedule anything for Hansol that weekend either, which mostly meant keeping Hansol out of the studio because he isn’t expected on variety shows the way Seungkwan is. His bad habit of lose track of time in the studio is definitely Jihoon’s fault.
The other part of the plan is convincing Jeonghan to get out of the apartment to go sleep over at Seungcheol’s for two nights. that part isn’t actually hard, but Jeonghan does spend the week leading up to the weekend teasing him relentlessly for “sexiling me for the first time in all the years we’ve lived together. Ah, my baby is growing up.”
He’s suspiciously silent on Thursday, but then Seungkwan comes out of his shower that night to find an obnoxiously glittery hot pink box with lube and condoms in it on his bed. Jeonghan refuses to elaborate or look up from the Lego house set he’s building for his goddamn rock. Seungkwan has to change his stupid sheets because of all the glitter fallout. There’s an entire strip of condoms that are bedazzled , and he knows it’s Jeonghan’s handiwork because Jeonghan’s stolen like, five of Joshua’s bedazzlers.
The group has a meeting at the company on Friday morning, and Seungkwan dresses up for it. Not to the extent where it’s obvious, because his members are vultures about this kind of stuff, but still— he looks good. Hair glossy and bouncy, curling around his ears prettily. Blue button up, the top three buttons undone, tucked into jeans that Minghao picked out for him. Seungkwan trusts very few people with his clothes, but Minghao is one of those miracles who can put together outfits within a few passes around a store.
He dabs a little concealer around his eyes and nose, swipes highlighter on his cheekbones, and then debates on the couple of bottles of lip tint he’s been gifted by their stylists for so long that Jeonghan shuffles in to nag, takes one look at him, and taps one of the tints wordlessly.
“We’re leaving in five, Seungkwan-ah, don’t spend all that time fussing,” he calls on his way out, “You look great.” The absolute certainty is his hyung’s voice pulls Seungkwan out of his head, and he applies the tint quickly before tossing his phone into his usual bag just in time for their manager to knock on their door.
They stop to get coffee, and then abruptly hit Friday morning traffic. The managers call ahead after ten minutes of inching through Seoul to let the rest of the group know, but Seungkwan feels the first signs of restlessness kicking in. He doesn’t like to be late to schedules, even if it’s just the members fucking around and getting updated on their plans for next month.
It’s just ten minutes , he hears Jeonghan think, mostly for his benefit.
They’re only around twelve minutes late (he was counting), which is far from the worst case of tardiness Seungkwan’s seen from the group, so he pulls himself together. He’s got a plan that involves Hansol seeing him pretty and put together so he takes Seungkwan home after to finally do something about that last unresolved bit on tension burning a hole in Seungkwan’s chest. He can work with this, make a fashionably late entrance.
Jeonghan can probably tell Seungkwan’s trying to subtly check his hair in the elevator mirror, but he’s being nice enough to not comment on it. They can hear Seokmin in the middle of an impassioned speech about something when the manager knocks and opens the door.
Jeonghan flounces into his seat beside Jisoo as usual, opposite Seungcheol like how the three of them always been arranged. Minghao’s saved Seungkwan a seat between him and Hansol.
He looks like he always does, handsome even in a plain black t-shirt and black sweatpants, headphones around his neck. He probably came directly from Jihoon’s studio, having texted Seungkwan earlier that they were working on a new demo for the vocal unit.
you’ll sound really pretty with this verse I’m writing , Hansol had said, all confident and matter-of-fact.
He’s currently examining Seungkwan with assessing eyes that stick onto the way Seungkwan’s chest heaves slightly from the jog down the hallway they’d done to get to the meeting as soon as possible. The shirt is just open enough that he knows Hansol can see the whole line of his throat bobbing when he swallows. He checked in the elevator that his lip tint survived the nervous coffee sipping in the car, and Seungkwan restrains himself from smirking at Hansol’s obvious, sudden fixation on his slightly parted lips.
“Sorry we’re late,” Seungkwan says briskly, sliding into his chair smoothly.
“Ah, no worries,” Seungcheol assures him, “we’ve barely started anyway, and it’ll be good to run through the schedule again for any questions.”
A staff member pulls up a blown-up color coded calendar for the upcoming month, and Seungkwan could pay attention, but someone will text the schedule into the group chat later anyway, and he has a boyfriend to distract.
He tips his head back, feigning fatigue, and has to swallow a shiver when Hansol’s large hand automatically goes to the back of Seungkwan’s head. His fingers brush against the nape of Seungkwan’s neck, and wind around until Hansol’s arm is loosely wrapped around Seungkwan’s shoulders.
After a minute, Seungkwan feels fingers on the edge of his collar, tracing the line between his shirt and the exposed sliver of collarbone, back and forth like Hansol doesn’t even notice he’s doing it. His head is silent, though, which is how Seungkwan knows this is purposeful. Ha. Game on, Chwe Hansol.
He yanks his attention back to the meeting, leaning forward to pay attention to the variety shows they’re being sent to and the upcoming tour. Ew, rehearsal four nights in a row is going to be terrible for his ankles. Minghao slumps down to his right, evidently sharing the sentiment.
Hansol’s arm is still on his shoulder, and he hears him make a dissatisfied little noise at Seungkwan moving.
“You’re being kind of obvious,” Seungkwan breathes when he allows himself to be pulled back, almost into Hansol’s side like there’s not ten of their staff and all the members.
“I could say the same for you,” Hansol replies after a beat. His fingertips press into the side of Seungkwan’s neck, right on his pulse point, and this time he can’t help the way he stiffens, almost imperceptibly but enough that Hansol definitely feels it.
“Did you dress up for this meeting, Seungkwan-ah?” Hansol continues quietly. The room is distracted by Soonyoung and Mingyu loudly negotiating hair and makeup times, and Hansol takes full advantage, leaning in so his mouth is directly beside Seungkwan’s mouth. “I don’t think you did, hm?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Seungkwan says, just to be difficult.
The raucous cheering from Soonyoung drowns out Seungkwan’s gasp at fingers pressing hard at his pulse again. Hansol was always handsy when they were tangled up in that situation on tour, Seungkwan remembers. He’d drag his hands down the length of Seungkwan’s waist and lace their hands together before joining their mouths, pinning Seungkwan to whatever surface they were making out on.
Seungkwan recovers just in time for Minghao to turn and shoot them a suspicious look.
“You two are being weird,” he squints, then evidently decides he doesn’t care. Seungkwan huffs a laugh when his hyung turns away to yell for Soonyoung to shut up. God, what is he even doing? If he’d told the Boo Seungkwan of a year ago that he’d be letting Hansol feel up his neck and whisper into his ear at a monthly meeting as boyfriends , he’d probably think himself insane.
Then Hansol curls a hand in the hair on the back of Seungkwan’s neck and pulls , and most of his thoughts escape him. “You being all done up and fuckin’ pretty has nothing to do with how much you wanted to have me over for a meal , huh?”
Seungkwan knows his window for teasing unnoticed is coming to a close, but he has a few seconds left. “Do something about it when we’re done with this, then,” he hisses back, then pulls himself away, resting his chin on his palm in that specific way he knows makes his side profile look good.
Hansol’s gaze is a simmering presence next to him for the next twenty minutes.
Time softens and elongates, each minute taking its time to pass. Hansol seems to have understood their silent agreement to not touch each other again, at least until they’re somewhere without oblivious managers and nosy members. The couple of times Seungkwan chances a look back at Hansol, though, his eyes are so intensely focused on Seungkwan that he has to take a deep breath, pressing his legs together.
“Seungkwannie, you and Hansol can share a car,” Jeonghan grins when they’re let out and crowded into the elevator. “Me ‘n Cheol are going out to eat lunch at our usual samgyeopsal place.”
Jeonghan absolutely does not have the energy for a restaurant, not on a Friday. Seungkwan knows he’s just going to doze on Seungcheol’s couch until Seungcheol orders takeout and eat together like the gross couple-of-ten-years they are. Seungcheol nods along to Jeonghan, only half listening. Disgusting.
“Ah, okay, hyung,” he agrees, “Hansollie can eat lunch at our place, then?”
Hansol hums in assent, although his eyes glint. He’s definitely going to be eating something , but it’s definitely not going to be takeout tteokbokki. Seungkwan can’t think about that right now. Chan isn’t listening right now, but he could. Unfortunately, Seungkwan definitely gave him his tendency to meddle.
They got lucky and had Friday afternoon cleared for them as well, unlike a few of the members who have their respective shoots and commitments booked into the late afternoon. Seungkwan makes conversation in the car instead of paying attention to Hansol for the sake of not going insane. Asks about his manager, how busy this quarter has been, how he’ll recharge these couple of days and be back caught up on sleep, of course. Lies— if things go his way, Seungkwan will be doing the opposite of resting this weekend.
“Eat well, Seungkwan-ah,” his manager says outside the door to the dorm, “And remind Hansol to do the same, okay? Don’t let him stay up all weekend.”
“Yes, of course, hyung,” Seungkwan agrees dutifully.
He waits until his manager’s disappeared around the corner of their hallway to shut the door with a click, and then Hansol’s on top of him.
Seungkwan flushes at the strangled sound that comes out of his mouth when he turns around and is immediately pinned to the door. He’s about to duck his head in embarrassment, but one of Hansol’s hands grips his waist and the other tilts his head up so Hansol can attach his mouth to the exact same spot he’d been pressing his fingers into.
Seungkwan can feel Hansol groan into his neck when he whines, high and needy at the first scrape of teeth on his skin, hips jerking up to grind against the thigh Hansol’s slotted in between his legs. Hansol kisses up his neck and jaw to capture Seungkwan’s lips in his own, tugs on Seungkwan’s bottom lip and pulls out every breathless sound he’s been holding back for the last two hours.
“Hansol— ah , Hansol. Let’s go to my room,” Seungkwan gasps out, and then: “Chwe Hansol, you’re not fucking me for the first time against my front door.”
Hansol’s hands tighten on Seungkwan’s waist, and his breath stutters for a beat, but he pulls away. Examines his work. Seungkwan has no doubt he looks like a complete mess already, shirt crumpled and pulled to one side, neck shiny with spit where Hansol raked his teeth and tongue across. Hansol shifts his leg experimentally, and Seungkwan chases the friction with a moan, blush rising high in his cheeks again.
“ Hansol .” Hansol grins, and tugs Seungkwan off the door, kissing him once on the lips before leading the walk to Seungkwan’s room.
He flops onto Seungkwan’s bed, leaning back against his hands with his hair falling boyishly in his face. And Seungkwan usually disapproves of manspreading, is the one to tap on Hansol’s leg to get him to make space, but he looks good like this, legs falling open and the evidence of how much he wants Seungkwan back pressing against the front of his sweatpants. Seungkwan can’t believe Hansol’s wearing fucking sweatpants. He wants to ruin him.
“Seungkwan, what—” Hansol cuts himself off when Seungkwan takes one step, then two, and drops to his knees in front of Hansol. The hardwood floor is going to do nothing for his knees, but he doesn’t really care, not when Hansol’s got one hand cupping his cheek, thumb swiping over where Seungkwan’s mouth is still wet and bitten.
He watches his boyfriend’s throat bob and gasps out a “please,” aware how wrecked he sounds without them actually having done anything yet. He’s waited fucking months , sue him.
“Please?” he repeats, “you’ll let me, right? I want it, Hansol, please, please —” Hansol cuts him off with a sound close to a growl, and slips two fingers into Seungkwan’s mouth, guitar calluses rough against his tongue. He takes it easily, mouthing messily around the fingers and blinking up at Hansol through his lashes.
Hansol looks undone , eyes dark and fixated on Seungkwan’s mouth, which is red from the lip tint stain and Hansol’s teeth. His fingers are a solid weight on Seungkwan’s tongue, like a promise of the real thing.
He pulls his hand away abruptly and Seungkwan whines again, chasing after the pressure. “Shh, baby, you’ll get what you want,” Hansol promises. His voice is low with arousal and scrapes like gravel along the torn-open rawness of Seungkwan’s entire being, oil on fire.
Seungkwan gets Hansol’s sweatpants off in record time, giggling at the ridiculousness of tossing five-year-old sweats across his bedroom floor. He’s never laughed before sex in the past, always too caught up in caution and worry to really let himself go. Hansol is different, of course he is. Smiling down at Seungkwan achingly gently even with blown out pupils and the hard line of his dick straining against his boxers. Seungkwan loves him so much.
He keens a little when he tugs Hansol’s underwear down to free his cock, flushed and leaking against his stomach already. “Desperate, much?” Seungkwan teases. Hansol groans, throwing his head back. Seungkwan wants to bite the line of his neck.
“You have no fucking clue what you do to me, Boo. Looking like that in front of everyone, running your mouth— I want you all the time,” he says in one breath. Seungkwan kisses up the inside of Hansol’s thigh, just to distract himself from the white-hot desire brewing in his lower belly.
Hansol keeps talking, saying more than Seungkwan’s herd from him in one go since they were kids. Babbles about how gorgeous Seungkwan is, how good his mouth feels when Seungkwan kisses up the underside of his cock wetly. He sucks the tip of Hansol’s cock into his mouth, and tunes out the rest for a little bit, focusing on the weight of his boyfriend in his mouth and trying to make it as good for Hansol as possible.
It’s been a while, and Seungkwan is not about to embarrass himself, so he goes slow. Bobs up and down while using his hands to wrap around what he can’t reach, and smirks as best as he can when Hansol gasps out a “ baby ” at the press of Seungkwan’s tongue into his slit.
He feels fingers in his hair, tugging gently on the dyed brown strands, and pulls off to stare up questioningly at Hansol. He meets his boyfriend’s gaze, and this time he giggles a little at Hansol’s slack mouth, the way his chest is heaving from how much he’s been running his mouth.
Seungkwan knows from his limited experience that he always looks good on his knees. He blushes easily, and he knows exactly how to let his lips part to paint a picture of being absolutely debauched. Hansol’s expression burns against Seungkwan’s skin, and the hand in his hair tightens. He moans quietly, and he rests his head on Hansol’s thigh, tongue darting out to lick at the taste of Hansol and his lip tint.
“ Fuck , Seungkwan, I— I’m not gonna last if you keep—” Seungkwan smirks.
“Keep what?” he asks innocently, and just to be difficult, wraps his lips back around Hansol’s dick before he can answer.
“Keep doing tha— ah, Boo, please ,” Hansol gasps, letting his head fall back again. He sounds cute when he’s begging, Seungkwan thinks distractedly, but he did also come here to get fucked, and Seungkwan’s never been a particularly patient person.
He redoubles his efforts, humming around Hansol’s cock and feeling a jolt of satisfaction at the way Hansol groans and fucks shallowly into Seungkwan’s mouth like he can’t help himself. A hand comes to cup Seungkwan’s face apologetically, but he simply loosens his jaw a little more and blinks wetly up at Hansol. Permission.
Understanding flashes across Hansol’s face, quickly replaced by desire. Ah, Hansollie’s always been smart , Seungkwan thinks, before Hansol adjusts his grip on Seungkwan’s hair and begins fucking his mouth in earnest, shallowly first and steadily getting more uncoordinated at he chases his release. Seungkwan lets his eyes flutter shut and he takes it , satisfaction curling around every fiber of his being.
The sounds coming from their room are obscene , Hansol’s open mouthed grunts combined with the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of Seungkwan’s mouth, punctuated by the keening coming from Seungkwan. He doesn’t even really notice he’s making sound, until Hansol pulls out of his mouth and a whimper escapes his mouth.
“Hansollie, why ,” Seungkwan whines, head too fuzzy to say anything beyond that. Hansol takes a second to examine him— glossy eyes, blush high on his cheeks, erection pressing against his pants, and then apparently comes to a decision.
Seungkwan’s pulled up from his spot on the floor and tossed onto the bed, an oof escaping his mouth when his back hits the soft mattress. Hansol’s on top on him in a second, gathering his arms and pinning them above Seungkwan’s head. He presses their bodies together, cock still hard against Seungkwan’s leg. He scrapes teeth along Seungkwan’s collarbone, free hand toying with the buttons on his shirt.
“Off,” Hansol hums, already unbuttoning and chasing each new inch of skin with his mouth. Seungkwan isn’t too sure what he’s planning, but he’s also not complaining about lying there and letting Hansol undress him. He can kind of make out words between the sounds of Hansol’s mount on his skin, compliments about his waist and body, how good his mouth felt.
“Hansollie,” Seungkwan drawls after a few minutes, trying to sound less desperate than he actually is, “Are you gonna kiss me, or are you gonna fuck me like you said you would?”
Hansol pauses from where he’s been sucking a bruise into the spot above Seungkwan’s hip, and his eyes flash before he grins , all teeth and spit. “‘Course, Boo,” he says sweetly, hands working at unzipping Seungkwan’s pants, and then finally, finally , gets his boxers down. He’s so hard he might actually die if Hansol doesn’t touch him, but he also can’t really move. Hansol only bothered to get his pants down far enough that he could access Seungkwan’s dick, and the weight of his firm, toned body is keeping Seungkwan’s hips in place.
Hansol’s being a fucking tease about it as well, nipping and leaving blooming bruises into the skin on Seungkwan’s legs until Seungkwan swats him impatiently. Hansol hums in acquiescence, stroking Seungkwan’s thigh gently before he moves up to lick into Seungkwan’s mouth once, and pulls away.
“Lube?”
“In the first drawer,” Seungkwan pants. He rolls his eyes when Hansol raises an eyebrow at the bedazzled condoms. “Jeonghan hyung.”
Hansol snorts, and grabs a couple of the normal ones. “Of course,” he mumbles, and then opens the lube bottle with a crack, leaning back down to capture Seungkwan’s mouth in his own again.
The first, cold press of a finger at his rim has Seungkwan gasping into Hansol’s mouth, the sound sharpening into a whine that he can barely register, too busy drowning in the feeling of Hansol stretching him open. He hears Hansol mutter the word tight into the seam of his lips as he slips in a second finger.
By the time he gets up to three fingers, he’s found Seungkwan’s prostate, but is only occasionally brushing against it, chuckling into Seungkwan’s ear at every breathless plea to “fucking touch me , Hansol , please .” Seungkwan is two steps away from sobbing into the sheets from the constant stimulation on all fronts, unable to do anything but writhe against Hansol. The bottom of the t-shirt Hansol still has on is damp from the precome Seungkwan’s been steadily leaking with every drag of cotton against the sensitive skin.
“You make the prettiest sounds, baby,” Hansol breathes. His tone is casual, but Seungkwan knows that tone, knows how to identify the raspiness in his voice that means Hansol is just as affected by this. He’s been grinding absentmindedly into Seungkwan’s hip, the slide eased by sweat and precome.
“Why are you still talking,” Seungkwan complains.
“Gotta make sure you know exactly what I’m thinking, hm? I promised,” Hansol replies easily. He reaches for the condom to start rolling it on, though. When Seungkwan is a little more in his right mind, he’ll feel things about his boyfriend still thinking of his promises in every situation. For now:
“ Ah– god, yes ,” Seungkwan hisses at the first press of Hansol’s cock into him, a slight burn in the stretch in exactly the right way. Hansol moans, long and low into Seungkwan’s neck, and presses in up to the hilt with one fluid movement. They both moan at the feeling, Seungkwan’s fingernails digging crescents into Hansol’s back. He thinks of the marks that will be left in the morning, and feels warm satisfaction.
Hansol gives Seungkwan a moment to adjust, and then he starts moving in earnest, pulling out halfway and slamming back in until they get into a fast, dirty rhythm.
Seungkwan tries to say something, but ends up letting his head fall back onto the pillow as he’s shifted up the mattress from the force Hansol’s using to fuck him. He hears himself whimpering again, and Hansol mumbling deliriously with each deep grind back into Seungkwan.
“Shit, hah , fuck, you feel good, Boo,” he manages, one hand pressing Seungkwan’s arms above his head again and the other wandering all over Seungkwan’s body, from his waist up to his neck, and then finally reaching down to jerk him off in time with each thrust.
Seungkwan feels a familiar heat coil in his stomach, setting the blood in his veins on fire, and he really wants Hansol to finish inside him first, so he hooks a leg around Hansol’s waist and tilts his chin up in a way that shows off his neck. he can’t help but feel smug at how easily Hansol takes the bait, mouthing messily at Seungkwan’s neck and speeding up.
His movements get sloppier and more desperate by the second, and Seungkwan ends up only having to gasp out a “ good boy ” into Hansol’s ear for his hips to stutter and slow into shallow thrusts as Hansol comes into the condom. Huh. Seungkwan files that interesting piece of information away for a next time.
Hansol rides out his orgasm gingerly, propping himself up to check for discomfort on Seungkwan’s face. There’s not any, but Seungkwan makes an unhappy noise when Hansol pulls out. He remedies the emptiness quickly, though, pressing two fingers back in and locating Seungkwan’s prostate with devastating precision. This time, he abuses it shamelessly and takes Seungkwan’s dick into his mouth at the same time, sucking and licking around the tip until Seungkwan’s hips buck, and he comes with a moan of Hansol’s name.
Hansol’s lips are wet with their combined fluids when he moves back up to kiss Seungkwan, and it should be disgsting, tasting himself on Hansol’s tongue, but Seungkwan can’t find it in himself to care, letting Hansol stroke comforting circles into his belly as they slowly catch their breath.
“You okay?” Hansol asks. Seungkwan nods, blush settling in as he processes how loud he’s been for the last hour, how filthy .
“Four-point-nine stars,” he says a little hoarsely. Hansol ducks his head and laughs into Seungkwan’s chest.
“What would I have to do for five?”
“Promise you’ll do that again,” Seungkwan grins. Hansol looks at him with serious eyes.
“I promise,” he says assuredly, “now c’mon. We should shower, and I know you’re gonna be annoyed if we don’t change these sheets soon.”
They go for round two halfway through showering, Seungkwan giggling at how talkative Hansol still is in the unflattering fluorescent lighting. He calls Seungkwan gorgeous as he sinks to his knees, smile bright and unflinching.
⋆☀︎.☁︎·₊°
Jeonghan looks incredibly amused at the state of Seungkwan’s neck when he returns two days later from Seungcheol’s house. Seungkwan has seen worse from Mingyu and Wonwoo, though, but Jeonghan obviously doesn’t care.
“Did Vernonie turn into a werewolf, or something?” he snorts. Seungkwan looks up from where he’s been aggressively patting concealer into his neck.
“Do you mean vampire.”
“No, vampires don’t maul people,” Jeonghan says matter-of-factly, “I watched a documentary on vampires with Cheol last night.”
“Of course you did,” Seungkwan sighs. He probably chose it to scare the shit out of Seungcheol, who is famously terrible at watching horror of any sort, but also eternally weak to Jeonghan’s whims.
He sends a text complaining about the hickeys to Hansol, but only gets a smug good in response. Horrible man.
It ends up being fine, they’re all back to a regular schedule by the middle of the week, and the bruises have faded enough that Seungkwan’s not too paranoid. He feels Hansol’s eyes on him constantly, though, and knows they’re both aware of what he’s still hiding. He can’t deny the pleased smile that creeps on his face at the memory of the two days they’d spent all over each other, though. His world has revolve around touch for almost his whole life, and having physical evidence of someone who has touched him and spent the entire time trying to press his love and devotion into Seungkwan’s skin is— he couldn’t ask for anything better. He imagines, wildly, getting a tattoo some day far into the future. A tattoo of all the words that Hansol etched into Seungkwan with his teeth. This will do for now.
It’s a few weeks after their schedules have kicked up again, and they miraculously have another free evening. Seungkwan thinks he must have saved a puppy in his past life for this.
Hansol’s coming over in a bit to pick him up for a date at some Italian place Dokyeom hasn’t shut the fuck up about for weeks, and then they’re going to come back after a walk along the Han to watch this new horror movie Hansol hasn’t shut the fuck up about. It’s going to be a perfect evening, and then Hansol’s going to take Seungkwan to bed and they’re going to have to be very quiet about fucking, because Jeonghan refused to leave out of nosiness.
The doorbell squawks. Seungkwan opens the door to Hansol dragging him in for a kiss, and hears warm, loving, silence.