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Soft SpotDongwoo had always had a soft spot for Howon.
He didn’t know why, really. All he knew was that when he first met Howon- really met him- on one Friday night eight months before their debut and heard his soft, shy voice and seen the small quirk of his lips, he had wanted to love and care for the boy like his own biological brother.
But time passed and Dongwoo soon realised that maybe Howon doesn’t need a protector as much as I’d thought.
Because Howon is quietly independent and self-sufficient. He doesn’t whine when he needs something like Sungyeol, doesn’t sulk when he doesn’t get his way like Myungsoo, and doesn’t throw a big fuss when things annoy him like Sungjong. Instead, he gets up and takes what he needs for himself, stands up and makes his point for himself and sorts out his own things by himself. Dongwoo thinks it might have something to do with the fact that Howon is neither part of the hyung-line or the maknae-line and is the perfect middleman of the group, the stoic, neutral centre.
But then debut draws nearer and soon Infinite is overwhelmed with dance practice and recording sessions and photo shoots and schedules that they barely have time to catch their breaths, barely have time to think about the magnitude of what they are doing, what they are stepping into. They’re leaving everything behind, leaving their old selves behind, to mould themselves into the image that the public shapes for them, that the media shapes for them.
There’s no more awkwardshytimidconfused, because now it’s all coolsuavecharismatichandsome.
And on the night before they’re set to debut Dongwoo so happens to return to their dance studio because he’s left his wallet behind, but he does a double take when he sees Howon standing right in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors, both hands pressed against the gleaming glass panes and body moving up and down in time with his heavy breathing, sweat rolling down his neck and shoulder blades.
“Howon?”
Howon jumps a little and stares at Dongwoo through his reflection in the mirror. Dongwoo offers an embarrassed smile and shifts his weight from his right foot to the left. Like always when he’s feeling shy, a hand goes up to rub sheepishly at the back of his neck as he averts Howon’s steady gaze.
“Um, what’re you still doing here?” Dongwoo tries.
A few awkward moments pass and Howon says nothing, so Dongwoo lets out an embarrassed, awkward laugh and steps away.
“Okay, well, uh, I’ll head back first then, see you- ”
“Dongwoo hyung?”
Dongwoo’s head snaps back up immediately. “Yeah?”
Howon looks at himself in the mirror. “I don’t know if I can do it,” he murmurs finally, softly, tiredly.
Dongwoo takes a step closer, “What d’you mean?”
Howon’s gaze finally drops to his old, worn black sneakers, “I don’t know if I can be Hoya.”
There’s silence for a few seconds as Dongwoo tries to understand what his dongsaeng is telling him and then- oh.
A soft smile graces Dongwoo’s features as he stops in front of Howon. Ever so gently, he tilts Howon’s chin up carefully with a finger. “Isn’t this what you’ve- what we’ve- wanted for so long? To debut?”
Howon nods slowly and Dongwoo’s finger slips from his chin. He smiles a small smile. Encouraging, “Then Hoya is just that, Howon. He’s the thing you’ve been chasing after for all these years.”
Howon suddenly thumps his head against Dongwoo’s shoulder, and Dongwoo’s arms wind around Howon’s back- soothingly, comfortingly- almost as if it’s natural.
“I’ll always be Howon, right?” Howon asks, voice muffled by Dongwoo’s shirt. (But Dongwoo knows it’s still shaky.)
Dongwoo chuckles and when he takes in a breath that distinct, musky smell of Howon fills his lungs, and he tightens his arms around his bandmate. “You’ll always be Howon.”
That night, Dongwoo plays the role of Howon’s protector, comforter, solace, as Howon curls himself around Dongwoo on their sorry excuse of a mattress in the squeezy dorm of seven boys with big dreams.
(And that night, although the night is cold and the wind is chilling to the bones, Dongwoo’s heart feels so strangely warm.)
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