The thrill from the crowd buzzed in Jiyong's ears for minutes after the concert was actually over. Loud screaming and synced chants felt as though they'd never really leave but soon the overwhelming heaviness of exhaustion consumed Jiyong. As he strode through the corridor, delivering high fives and hugging fellow team members, he spoke softly in english, "I'll be taking a short nap, thank you for all your hard work." He bowed and dismissed himself, shutting the door behind him.

The small couch in the dressing room wasn't as comfortable as he'd hoped but it would do. He curled into the couch and shut his eyes. He dreamt too much, or maybe too little, because the moment he'd shut his eyes and dreamt of things he's wanted for the last few months, a hand shook him awake, "You have a visitor, GD." The voice, that he'd guessed was his manager—too lazy to open his eyes yet—said.

Jiyong hummed and nodded his head as he sat up, signaling that it was okay for the visitor to do their visiting. He rested his elbows on his knees as he rubbed at his eyes. The sound of the door shutting still didn't cause him to look up, the tiredness taking a toll on his ability to open his eyes.

The visitor finally spoke after long seconds of silence, "Your english is really good." His deep voice rang and startled Jiyong. The tiredness that once took a toll on him vanished almost immediately and his eyes opened slowly, looking up at the figure that stood on the other side of his dressing room. His voice was deeper than Jiyong remembered—smoother than before but rougher in so many ways—it was a scary thought. Almost forgetting what Seunghyun sounded like frightened him.

"Thanks." Jiyong said in english, his voice soft and wavering. He feared that if he stood he would break this, that he would triggered his dreaming sequence and wake himself up—if this were truly a dream. Jiyong ran his hand over his forearm and pinched himself as Seunghyun looked away. Not a dream—this is not a dream. It's reality and he's really standing there. Close enough for Jiyong to reach out and—

"Your voice is stronger." Seunghyun's said as his eyes scanned the small dressing room, peering over at the mirror and running his ring covered fingers over the desk sat in front of the mirror before finally connecting his eyes with Jiyong's, "And your music is amazing." He smiled and Jiyong practically sighed to himself. That smile, the same smile that hasn't changed one bit despite everything he's been through, everything he's suffered through. Jiyong finds it too much to handle and looks down, cutting the contact between their eyes because it said too much—told too much.

Then, he was angry. Seunghyun left him, he was discharged and the minute he walked out the door, Jiyong never heard from him again. He stood then, proud of himself for not stumbling back, "You didn't call." Jiyong mumbled, "You didn't text, didn't email, didn't even send a ing letter." His voice got louder as the list grew longer. He ripped his beanie from his head he took one step towards Seunghyun. Did he really have the right to be angry?

Seunghyun sighed, "I'm sorry." He shrugged off his jacket and draped it on the desk.

"You're sorry?" Jiyong scoffed, "All you have to say is that you're sorry. Are we even still a thing? Did you forget about us? Have you come all the way out here to break it off?" Thousands of questions flew through Jiyong's head but he could only settle on those three. He finally finished the distance between them and gave Seunghyun a solid punch in the chest, not enough to hurt him but enough for Seunghyun to know he was undoubtedly angry.

Being that close to Seunghyun made Jiyong see everything. His sharp jaw line, how long his hair had grown as it was styled into a quiff, he'd gotten buffer, and he had the saddest eyes Jiyong had ever seen. Jiyong's balled fists on Seunghyun's chest flattened out, sliding up the cotton fabric of his sweater and stopping at his shoulders. Jiyong took one hand and held up one finger, holding it up in front of Seunghyun's face and in his view.

"One text. One letter. One anything to tell me you were okay. One, hyung, just one. Instead, I had to find out everything from news articles." Jiyong was close to crying now, tears welling up in his eyes as he remembered when he first read that Seunghyun was in the hospital, in a coma, possibly unresponsive. Then Seunghyun touched him, cupping his face hesitantly.

His soft hands burned against Jiyong's aching to be touched skin, "I came here to tell you I'm alright and that I don't want us to end." Jiyong could tell that Seunghyun wanted to kiss him but thought it was too much for this moment. And it could be, it could be too much for this moment but Jiyong still wanted it to happen, he still wanted the moment to be embedded into his head for the rest of his life with this kiss.

He cupped Seunghyun's hands, still placed on his face, "Prove it, then. Prove that you don't want us to end." Jiyong whispered, eyes flickering down to Seunghyun's lips in hint to what kind of proof he wanted—what kind of proof he needed.

Seunghyun's lips tasted like peppermint, cigarettes, and worry. Pure worry that had Jiyong pushing forward and deepening the kiss in more worry. The move of Seunghyun's lips against his overwhelmed him, made his hands travel down to circle Seunghyun's wrists and grip there for dear life. Seunghyun was the first to pull away, resting his forehead against Jiyong's and sighing deeply.

The kiss told Jiyong that everything would be alright, that they'd be alright. As Seunghyun's arms wrapped around him tightly and he buried his face against Jiyong's neck, Jiyong held him. Told him that everything would be okay and that they'd be okay—that he'd be okay.