Moments- One Direction

To say I didn’t know what I felt for Sandeul from the start would be telling the truth.

To say I didn’t feel anything, however, would be a downright lie.

There was something about him I couldn’t exactly identify, something that seemed to draw him magnetically to him each and every day spent together as trainees, then as idols.

At the surface, of course, it was his natural cuteness and sweet personality. For someone who was going to spend the next four years or so in such a risky and unstable career, he was particularly naive. Everything seemed so simple to him. He believed everything he heard and saw, and his childish curiosity often lead him astray.

It was enough to make anyone close to him want to hold and protect him forever.

I was no exception.

It also helped that we were literally born within six months of each other. The close age proximity allowed me to understand a lot of what he was facing, and vice versa for him. We always had something to talk about, be it music, television dramas, movies, other idols, or relationship gossip.

I later discovered that we both shared an insatiable thirst for fun and mischief, immediately making us the perfect partners-in-crime. It felt good, not being alone in whatever I did, having someone watching my back or at my side when I dished out a prank and faced the music for it. Wherever Baro was concerned, Sandeul was probably tangled up somewhere there as well. 

But it was what I uncovered in one of the deepest parts of Jung Hwan that made me fall the hardest. Watching him on his regime to lose weight, honing his singing to perfection, sharpening his dance steps, I realised that behind that pure smile, that clueless, innocent face, he had a resolve and determination that far surpassed any of us. He was obstinate in getting what he wanted, a quality in him that struck me.

It was inevitable then, that I started feeling something more than just friendship for my best friend.

But that was just it: friendship. The Friendship that set a clear boundary between what I wanted and what I was allowed to have.

I knew what it was like to lose someone you loved because of saying something stupid. I knew exactly how the pain would taste when you made someone hate you because you went too far. So when the feelings for him started skulking around in the back of my mind, I kept them all locked tightly behind a forced smile and fake nonchalance.

Sometimes though, I’d stumble and let something slip. Things that, if heard or seen by anyone other than Sandeul, would send off alarm bells immediately. But Jung Hwan was Jung Hwan, always too lost in his own world to take particular notice.

I wasn’t sure if this was a gift or a curse.

The dorm was particularly quiet one evening when I came back from God of Cookery Road filming, and the only person in the living room was Jin Young, who was completely immersed in his composing. I immediately knew that something had to be wrong.

Heading for Sandeul’s room, I opened the door (which was almost never shut before bedtime) and walked over to his bed. Said friend was then in the form of a miserable ball under the blanket, an empty bottle of pear juice lying on his pillow.

Sighing, I sat down at the foot of his bed, dumping my bag beside the nearby closet, before poking the aforementioned lump in the rear.

“Get up, you’re making me depressed,” I said, loud enough for him to hear under the blanket.

He ignored me for a while, and I prodded him again.

“Go away,” he said, voice muffled.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” I grunted, elbowing something pointed that I supposed must be his feet as I shifted further onto the bed.

He groaned, before pushing the blanket off and kicking me off him. His brown hair was in a fluffy caramel mess, and his thick glasses were slightly lopsided from lying down with them on.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong now?” I made myself comfortable, trying not to think about how adorable he could look even when he was upset, resisting the urge to reach up and comb out his hair.

“Nothing’s-…”

“Jung Hwan,” I said warningly.

He remained silent for a while then, rubbing at his eyes with his fists, before gathering his knees to his chest, curling up into a ball once more.

“Baro, answer this honestly…” he said hesitantly, his voice slightly hoarse. “Am…am I…ugly?”

“As a pig,” I said, before glancing over and sensing that he wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

“Okay, Jung Hwan,” I sat up properly, looking him in the eye. “Who said it this time?”

He muttered something that sounded like “nobody”, rocking nervously back and forth, avoiding my eyes.

“Doesn’t sound like a nobody.”

Jung Hwan stayed silent for a while, before sighing, rubbing his eyes again.

“Some people were commenting on…one of our forums,” he said wearily. “And…and I’ve gained weight, Manager spoke to me about it after dance practice today…”

He retreated into his little ball again, tears pooling in his dark eyes behind the lenses of his glasses.

I sighed, before shifting closer to his form, nudging him gently.

“Deul, you know that people don’t always speak the truth, especially on the internet, right?” I said softly. “And Manager was just reminding you to stay on your diet. We had a pretty stressful week, it’ll be better starting tomorrow. Besides,” I rolled my eyes here. “He wasn’t exactly the Almighty King of Eloquence, last time I checked.”

Jung Hwan giggled nervously here, and I grinned, relieved that I was able to make him laugh.

“And what anyone says shouldn’t make you think you’re ugly,” I continued, not checking what I was saying. “It’s what’s inside that matters, and I think you’re beautiful no matter what anyone says-…”

“What?” He asked, perking up from his little ball, turning to stare at me. I almost swallowed my tongue upon realising what I’d said.

“W-what? That it’s inside that matters?” I stammered, wishing I could just slap myself for letting something so stupid slip.

“No, what you said after that,” he said curiously, leaning a little closer. My throat tightened, and I laughed nervously.

“I mean, w-we’re pop idols and all, and it’s not like they can say anything,” I forced out, surprised that my currently jelly-fied and incoherent brain could actually come up with such an acceptable excuse. “They’re probably just jealous, Jung Hwan, you know that.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugged, letting his legs fall onto the bed, so he was sitting cross-legged now. His smile as he turned to me was a lot happier.

All I could think about then, however, was how close I’d been to wrecking everything I’d worked to preserve, how dangerously close I’d gone to spilling everything I’d hidden from him.

Then again, there were moments when everything seemed to sail smoothly, too smoothly, as if deliberately taunting me with what I couldn’t have by dangling it in front of my face. These moments started to erode away at the walls I’d hastily constructed around myself to keep Sandeul out, and the rest of my feelings in.

These were times when I slid dangerously close to crossing the delicate, filmy line of just friends.

The room was still dark when I heard the mattress creak and dip beneath a new weight through my sleep-hazed mind, so I knew it couldn’t be Jin Young or Dong Woo coming to wake me up, because I was pretty sure we didn’t have schedule until later in the afternoon that day, and unless Jin Young was struck with a sudden bestowal of inspiration to force us up at four in the morning to practice a dance routine in the delusional belief that it would vastly help, in which case I was going to give him a good kick in the -…

“Sun Woo,” a cool breath fanned over my exposed ear, and I recognised the voice of that person immediately.

“Nnngh?” I muttered, turning my head and cracking open an eyelid.

His slim frame was silhouetted by the moonlight pouring into the dorm through the tiny bedroom window, but I could see his tired, lidded eyes, jet crescents against his fair skin. He was wearing his favourite yellow duckie hoodie, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“I had a nightmare,” Sandeul said matter-of-factly, sliding underneath the blanket behind me. His skin felt deliciously cool against mine, especially his toes. I shuddered slightly as his breath tickled the back of my neck.

“You’re nineteen,” I grumbled, but I shifted a bit towards the wall all the same.

“You’re annoying,” he draped an arm over my shoulder, snuggling into the small space between me and the mattress. Like a cat, I thought, just minus the fur and the claws.

Silence reigned for a while more, except for the steady hum of the air-conditioner, and the sounds of the bed frame creaking as Sandeul searched for a comfortable position. I was prepared to drop back off into sleep when he spoke again.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he whispered, slightly uncertain.

If only you knew how much more I wanted.

“It’s what best friends are for, Deul,” seemed the safest reply.

The statement, however, sent sudden pain rippling through my body.

Yes, best friends, because that was just what we would remain as, no matter how much more I craved.

He seemed satisfied though, as I felt his head drop contentedly onto the pillow.

“Thanks Sun Woo.”

“No problem,” I muttered. “Don’t steal the blanket.”

Over the course of the next few weeks, I questioned myself. I questioned my relationship with Sandeul. I questioned my chances of ever being able to tell him how I felt.

But I knew I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t throw our friendship onto the rocks and risk never getting it back again by telling him.

For several nights at the recording studio, the thoughts seemed to manifest in themselves onto the keyboard. Jin Young had tasked me with preparing a song for our next album, and with nothing to lose, I converted the frustration, the sadness, the uncertainty into music.

The song was slow, slower than most of my other compositions, and darker too. It had a melancholy touch that made it real, yet it was angry and tired and seemed to cry.

Jin Young barely listened to the first ten seconds of it.

“It’s okay,” he said with noncommittal shrug as he pulled out the earbud. “But it’s not what WM’s looking for, like I already told you. Our next album’s supposed to have a brighter image. We need the song soon, Baro. Don’t forget, you still have to create a guide and get it properly produced.”

I was left, alone, emotions raw and exhausted, to start from scratch and create something I didn’t feel for.

That night, I was haunted worse than ever by thoughts of Sandeul. I barely noticed when Jin Young left the studio first to go back to the dorms.

Being alone, listening to nothing but the harsh whir of the air conditioning and loops of a failed piece of music, hurt more than I thought possible.

“It’s cold,” A loud, intrusive, obnoxious complaint rang through the tiny studio. I sighed, swivelling around in what I’d dubbed the “Jin Young chair”, watching the supposedly-older-than-me-by-six-months boy on the sofa rub his hands together rapidly, before blowing on them, all the while a rather endearing expression of annoyance knotting his brows together.

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” I said, amused.

“I’d rather be here than at the dorms,” Sandeul rolled his eyes. “Jin Young would be forcing me to practice singing, and Dong Woo-hyung would probably make me do the laundry again. Have you seen the underwear Jin Young supposedly wears? It’s painful just looking at it.”

I snorted. “The ones with the lace?”

“He has ones with lace?” Sandeul went wide-eyed. “I only knew about the red Speedos.”

Both of us went silent for a moment, before bursting into a chorus of muffled laughter and snorts. Sandeul had to hold a hand up for quiet as his phone started ringing shrilly, still laughing weakly himself. He mouthed “it’s Jin Young” at me, before picking up.

“H-hyung?” he choked slightly over the phone, a mad grin still splitting his face. “At the studio with Baro, why?”

I immediately pulled a funny face at him, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent another round of explosive laughter.

“No...” he giggled weakly. “We’re talking about your underwear, hyung. Okayokayokay, sheesh, we’re coming back soon, kaythanksbyehyung.”

He hung up, just as I heard a loud round of protests erupt from our leader’s end. I snickered, spinning around in the studio chair.

“He needs a vacation or something, or he’ll explode,” I said, glancing back at my computer screen, where a half-finished song remained.

“Is your song done?” Sandeul slouched back onto the couch, propping his legs up on the coffee table. I gave it a brief once-over, before shrugging and saving and closing the program.

“Almost,” I said, standing to walk towards the couch, wincing when I felt the kinks in my joints crack from sitting in a chair for four hours straight. “Move over.”

He shifted, and I sat down, sighing in relief at the soft surface.

Sandeul leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. “Let me hear your song.”

“It’s not even done yet,” I said lazily.

“I just want to see what’s been keeping you at the studio all these nights,” Sandeul whined, as he stood and walked over to the computer, and I panicked.

“Waitwaitwait! Uhm…!” Hey, I’m composing a song about you and the closet feelings I’ve been hiding for the past five years, and I don’t want you to see it? Nope, not a good idea.

“Jin Young doesn’t want anyone to touch the computer,” I scrambled for an excuse, hoping the feeble one I whipped out was enough.

“He lets you touch it,” Sandeul gave me a strange look.

“Only because I compose too,” I said hastily.

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment after I said that, in which an expression I’d never seen before crossed Jung Hwan’s face, but in a split second, he shrugged, and walked back to the couch.

“You never let me hear your compositions,” he sighed, and I immediately sensed an imminent sulking session.

“It’s only ‘cause they ,” I pouted at him, hoping to lighten the atmosphere around us.

“Well, how would I ever know, if you never show anything to me?” he ignored it, looking away pointedly. I inwardly winced, realising that he was serious about it.

“Okay…when I’m done, you’ll be the first one to hear it, I promise,” I said in an attempt to appease him, conjuring my best bambi eyes in the hopes it would help.

He huffed, before turning towards me, a smile involuntarily tugging at his lips upon seeing my face.

“You look creepy, stop that,” he retorted, grinning. “Only I’m allowed to do cute and get away with it.”

I snorted, leaning back on the couch, though I was majorly relieved on the inside that I’d averted the crisis.

“If you take all the cute to yourself, then what do I do?” I said in mock hurt, expecting a sarcastic jibe as an answer. What he said, though, made every muscle in my body tense up uncomfortably.

“Handsome,” he shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He shifted slightly, so he leaned flush against me, and my heart rate took what had to be an extremely unhealthy hike. I tried not to think about how his head fit so well in the crook of my neck, and how warm his body felt, and what I would have given in the past for this to become a reality-…

“I’m hungry,” he murmured against my neck, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, this was Jung Hwan, and motion-picture moments were out of the question with him.

Though, really, I knew I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“We can stop by a diner for some jjigae on the way back,” I suggested, now absently running my fingers through his hair.

“But Jin Young said we had to get back immediately,” Sandeul said in an annoyed tone.

“And I care because…” I said pointedly, and Sandeul giggled, the bubbly sound sending goosebumps rising on my skin.

“Chansik’ll be awake though, he might tell on us,” he said, after a moment’s thought.

“We’ll bribe him with cucumber kimchi,” I declared. “And strawberry milk.”

“Yes, yes we shall,” Sandeul agreed heartily, though he made no movement to get up off me and begin on our journey back to the dorm.

It was a given, then, that neither did I.

I slammed a fist on the table in frustration, narrowly missing Jin Young’s precious keyboard by an inch, before gripping onto a handful of my hair and tugging in anger.

It must have been near midnight when I started off from the studio that night, but in the span of that three hours, I got close to nothing done at all.

I hated the feeling. I hated being rejected, I hated being useless, I hated the fact that my emotions were messing my life up so badly. That night, I wanted nothing more than to be able to forget the feelings I had for Sandeul, because I was tired of the anger, tired of the emotions, tired of the emptiness I knew he would never want to fill.

I just wanted something real from him, something that I knew wasn’t a product of his oblivious nature or his genuinely kind heart.

I wanted to love him, and for him to love me back.