“You’re so pretty,” Wonsik says, and Hongbin has stopped looking askance at him whenever he says such things – Hongbin’s learned, they’ve all learned, that Wonsik wears his heart on his sleeve and it took them a very short time to reign in their surprise and instinctive jabbing teenage boy-jokes in an unfamiliar but strident reluctance to see Wonsik’s softness harden, his hugs become brief and cold, his effusive praise dry up like a river in summer. They closed ranks – the Wonsik Protection Squad, Jaehwan had joked – and soft, loving, gentle Wonsik had gone on being soft, loving and gentle where he could have drawn inwards and bottled himself up. It’s strange being around someone like Wonsik – Hongbin chalks it down to ego. It does his self-esteem no end of good to have Wonsik regularly reminding him how beautiful he is, voice no less sincere be it the first or hundredth time the words leave his lips. And self-esteem is something they need in spades – debut is less than a week away and it is savagely eating away at them.

“Can I?” Wonsik asks, and it’s the tentativeness of his voice rather than the question itself that makes Hongbin turn to look at him. Wonsik’s hand is hovering a centimetre or so from Hongbin’s ear and the curls of his fringe radiating around his face like a downy halo. The light of the setting sun frames him so whenever his head hits the light just so he looks like a lion with a fiery mane, Wonsik smiling to see it. They’re all distributed around the dorm’s rooftop during a break in their neverending practice – “Alone time, but together” Hakyeon had insisted, nerves getting the better of him lately and refusing to let anyone out of his sight – and so Taekwoon is sitting tucked into a corner listening to his music; Hakyeon, Sanghyuk and Jaehwan are watching something on one of the manager hyungs’ laptop and laughing quietly together, Hakyeon having beckoned Sanghyuk over to sit closer by them and not alone. It’s good to see Hakyeon laugh these days.

And the two of them are sitting on the edge, dangling their feet over, Wonsik having explained repeatedly to Hakyeon how there is no way they can fall and even if they do fall they’ll just land on the parapet a couple of feet below them until Jaehwan had yanked Hakyeon away, bored already with the argument. It was a little victory, and Wonsik had poked a finger fondly into one of Hongbin’s dimples.

Hongbin doesn’t know what Wonsik is asking for now, his face hopeful and fingers still waiting beside Hongbin’s face.

“Can you what?”

“Touch your hair.”

Hongbin startles, trying to mask his surprise with bumbling protests. “But I’m all sweaty from dancing. It’ll be gross.”

“No,” Wonsik promises, and slides his fingers over Hongbin’s head, going to undo the little ponytail Hongbin had gathered his hair back in to keep it away from his face. Wonsik chases the slight curls as they fall about Hongbin’s jaw and temples, pleasure in his eyes as he pulls gently at them to see them spring back into place, and Hongbin can’t look away. Wonsik twirls a lock around his finger and holds it up to the sun to see the gold play off Hongbin’s darker brown hair, the light picking up burnished copper and deeper bronze in the strands.

“So pretty,” Wonsik murmurs again, and Hongbin finds he has stopped breathing as Wonsik smoothes the damp hair at Hongbin’s forehead and nape, letting the hair trail through his fingers, combing absently and enjoying the soft feel of it.

Wonsik tries to tie Hongbin’s hair back into a ponytail when he’s played his fill with it but finds tying someone else’s hair up is very different from tying your own, and Hongbin swallows and breathes again when he discovers his voice once more and starts teasing Wonsik about not being able to do this one simple thing. Wonsik’s hands are careful not to catch Hongbin’s hair tightly in the tie, smoothing down errant strands and making sure the ponytail isn’t off-center when he finally manages to put Hongbin’s hair up decently. He bounces his fingers off the ponytail, pleased with his work, and Hongbin self-consciously runs his own awkward hands over his hair to neaten it unnecessarily.  

“If you dyed it lighter it would really be so beautiful,” Wonsik tells him seriously. “Not some crazy colour like mine. Something close to blonde but still brown. Gold, like how it looks now in the sun.”

“I’ve been waiting till I can cut it short,” Hongbin says instead, and immediately regrets it when he sees the horror on Wonsik’s face.

“No,” Wonsik pleads, like it’s a matter of life and death. “Don’t cut it. You look – like this-” Wonsik’s hands cup Hongbin’s face in his urgency and Hongbin laughs, hands gripping Wonsik’s wrists to tug them down. Wonsik’s skin is warm and soft underneath his fingers, and his thumb rests over a pulse point. Hongbin lets go, uncertainly.

“Okay, time’s up,” Hakyeon’s voice cuts across them and they get to their feet immediately, Hongbin feeling slightly off-kilter. Wonsik has a careful hand on his arm to make sure Hongbin doesn’t fall off the ledge – he feels indignant at this. He wasn’t going to fall – and whispers into the back of his neck in the crowded lift down: “Don’t cut it. Don’t cut your hair. Don’t.” Hongbin leans back to bump his head into Wonsik’s face.

Wonsik bounces Hongbin’s ponytail again as they re-enter their dance studio, sadly this time as if saying goodbye, and Hongbin has to laugh.

“Maybe I’ll keep it long for now,” he finds himself saying, mouth completely not obeying his brain, and Wonsik’s entire body lights up.

*

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