The wait is agonizing.

It’s not like he’s anxious or anything, (or maybe he is) but not having Jungshin in the same room much less on the same continent makes him itch somewhere inside, and he hates it. Stupid show. Why did Jungshin have to take this one, when we are so obviously going to be busy touring the damn world? Stupid show. Stupid company. Stupid Jungshin.

Yonghwa doesn’t stop pacing until Jungshin calls him to tell him about his day.

*

Jungshin doesn’t realise it, of course.

Or maybe he does, in that sly way of his, but he doesn’t show any signs of anything; doesn’t even admit to himself that something is brewing. Everything is normal and Yonghwa-hyung is just being his crabby old self as he always is with me. Silly hyung. What does it matter that I’m in Korea and he’s—the rest of them are in London? I’ll see him—them in 18 hours anyway. Did he really have to send me twenty messages? Seriously, hyung.

But something doesn’t feel right, and the niggling feeling doesn’t go away, until he hears Yonghwa’s voice—

“YAH! JUNGSHIN AH! It’s one in the ing morning here, where the have you been, you were supposed to call THREE HOURS AGO—”

Jungshin half-sighs, half-smiles; Yonghwa was being unnecessarily impossible again, but the distinct note of worry underneath all that fury was a balm to his exhaustion: 5,000 miles away and Yonghwa was still the only thing that made Jungshin feel like he was home.

*

Jungshin leaves for the airport only to receive three messages, all from Yonghwa, one after another.

Did you remember to bring your shades? You know you hate it when the cameras flash.

I hope you’re wearing something insanely comfortable because the plane ride is ridiculously long. Bring your jacket though; London is unbearably cold.

Be safe.

Jungshin laughs, backtracks to grab his shades and jacket, and closes the door of their dormitory. He knows me far too well.

*

“You do know that this will be happening quite a bit now, right, hyung?” Jungshin asks when he is finally in London, finally by Yonghwa’s side, finally here. Yonghwa frowns, annoyed by the reminder that this won’t always be the case. “I mean we’ve got that Arena Tour going on in Japan, and some concert in Chile or something, right? I don’t know how many of those I’m going to miss. Hopefully none, but that might not be the case… Hyung?”

Jungshin gapes as Yonghwa stalks off, muttering to himself. Yonghwa had gone insane—that was the only plausible explanation Jungshin could give for his sudden mood swings. He was perfectly normal when Jungshin had first arrived, albeit a tad more boisterous than he usually was; he had put Jungshin in a headlock when they met, something Jungshin only ever allowed the leader of the band. If Jonghyun-hyung had tried that at all (which he occasionally did, doofus that he was) Jungshin would have started punching him, regardless of all that Judo training he had. Yonghwa was allowed to though, because he was Yonghwa, and that was that.

But now this? What was hyung’s problem anyway, it wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter. And it’s not like you haven’t done this to me—us—before, anyway, Jungshin chides under his breath. You left me stranded in Japan whilst you made googly eyes at— Jungshin catches himself before he mumbles anything he regrets—whatsherface.

*

In his room, Yonghwa paces the floor, annoyed, ticked off—monumentally pissed at everything and everyone. No, not everyone. Just Jungshin.

Yonghwa hates that Jungshin doesn’t get it.

He hates that Jungshin can speak so coolly of their imminent parting because he doesn’t want to go a day without seeing Jungshin; he hates that Jungshin is so goddamn content, when he is anything but.

It isn’t, of course, that he isn’t happy for Jungshin, because of course he is. He is proud of his band member, proud that Jungshin was making a name for himself in the acting industry; he is insanely proud, seeing how easily Jungshin adjusts to the hectic schedule. As the leader of the band, Yonghwa is jubilant for him—

But he didn’t just want to be the leader, and maybe that was the problem. With Jungshin, he could be anyone he wanted to be. With Jungshin, he wasn’t the leader of the band, or an actor, or an emcee, or any other public personality he had built over the years. With Jungshin he could be plain old Yonghwa.

He sighs, frustrated as hell, but mostly just tired of being so many different things to so many different people. Yonghwa sits, and he waits, even if the wait is agonizing, even if it physically hurts.

Then the wait is over because Jungshin is there, sitting beside him, his head on Yonghwa’s shoulder, the scent of him filling the room—and maybe he does get it after all. Yonghwa leans into him, head to head, and takes a mental picture of them in his room: two boys sitting at the edge of a bed, on the edge of everything they wanted to be but couldn’t.