Sungjong is beyond upset when Myungsoo pulls him aside, his eyes soft, his voice sorrowful, his touch gentle. “What’s wrong? Has something been bothering you lately?”

Sungjong is positively livid.

You. He thinks. You’re what’s wrong with me. “Nothing, Myungsoo-ah.” You’ve been wrong with me. He lifts his head, meets Myungsoo’s eyes. He doesn’t say, everything is fine. He doesn’t say everything is perfect. “In fact, I’m better than ever.”

He leaves with the kind of smile that isn’t quite fake, but couldn’t possibly be real. He leaves with a smile that makes Myungsoo even more confused. He leaves with a smile that makes him unbelievably hot.

And Myungsoo is positively livid.

The way Sungjong saunters off, struts about the room, with a smile that says nothing is right, it makes him beyond upset. The way Sungjong saunters off, struts about the room, with a smile that says it’s your fault and you can’t fix it, it makes him beyond upset.

But when he’s done glaring at the pert swaying from side to side, and the fumes begin to disperse, Myungsoo finds another emotion beneath all the frustration and anger.

Devastation.

Sungjong is sitting by Sunggyu today.

Sunggyu can be trusted to glance appreciatively over Sungjong’s body, without actually molesting him. This is because Sunggyu has Woohyun, the way Dongwoo has Hoya.

The way that Myungsoo has Sungyeol.

Sungjong shifts in his seat, leans his head against Sunggyu’s shoulder. “How much longer is this movie? I’m sleepy.” Woohyun sends Sunggyu an alarmed glare, dissipated two seconds into Sungjong’s very real, and very adorable yawn.

Myungsoo moves to bring Sungjong to his room, moves to act as his pillow for the remainder of the movie, moves to be closer to the maknae than he is now.

Sungjong’s arms wrap around Sunggyu’s neck. Myungsoo freezes. Sungjong’s body is lifted upwards, his overly long legs dangling sensually, by someone other than him. “Daddy,” and Myungsoo is about to break, “can Mommy come read me a bedtime story?”

Woohyun is still in Sungjong’s room, fighting with Sunggyu over what story would be suitable to read a child, when Myungsoo finds his strength, his voice, his mind. But when he tries to stand up, he falls back down. When he tries to open his mouth, to call out to Sungjong, nothing comes out. When he tries to think, everything comes out a blur.

Myungsoo-ah, don’t you know?

Sungjong is in his room, whispering as quietly as he knows how, to the windows, to the walls, to the wasteland that is his room when Myungsoo is not there.

And Myungsoo is not there quite often nowadays.

Myungsoo is Japan; Sungjong will call him, will cheer him on with fake enthusiasm in his voice –I miss you –“Hwaiting hyung!” and everything will be fine.

Myungsoo is filming; Sungjong will practice, will become good enough to go on as many programs as Myungsoo does, and maybe everything will be fine.

Myungsoo is in Sungyeol’s room, whispering even more quietly than he knows how; Sungjong will wait for him, will pretend he doesn’t know anything, will pretend that everything is fine.

This is already your fourth foul.

Sungjong is in his room, snuggled against Woohyun one night with Sunggyu’s charismatic voice sending him to sleep –“And they lived happily ever after,” –and snuggled against Hoya another, with Dongwoo’s deep voice singing him to sleep.

Sungjong is in his room, because Myungsoo is not here.

Out.

Sungjong thinks it’s absolutely lovely, the way he doesn’t have to worry about where Myungsoo is anymore. He doesn’t have to pretend Sungyeol isn’t in the same room as Myungsoo. He doesn’t have to pretend Myungsoo wants to spend his time with the maknae. He doesn’t have to care anymore.

Right?

Sungjong smiles at Sungyeol, who jumps up from his seat to come speak to the maknae. A sideways glance at Myungsoo. A seductive glance towards Sunggyu. A pout at Hoya.

“Can we talk?” Sungjong smiles. What is there to talk about? There’s no such thing as compromise, because there’s nothing Sungjong wants. He doesn’t want Myungsoo. He doesn’t want to see Myungsoo. He doesn’t want to love Myungsoo.

So he decides to hate Myungsoo.

Because it’s easier to hate Myungsoo than it is to stop loving him.

Sungjong has to pretend it isn’t lovely, the way he doesn’t have to worry about where Myungsoo is anymore, not with those drowsy eyes trained on his every movement. Sungjong has to pretend it isn’t lovely, the way it doesn’t matter if Sungyeol is in the same room as Myungsoo, not when it’s Myungsoo cursing Sungyeol in his place.

Sungjong has to pretend it isn’t lovely that he doesn’t have to pretend that Myungsoo wants to spend his time with the maknae.

If I keep pushing you away, will you come running to me?

If you only come to me when I push you away, when will you run to me?

The words that come from those pretty lips are harsh.

“Sunggyu,” a smile. Woohyun tightens his grip around Sunggyu’s hand. Sungjong places his in Woohyun’s. “Umma.” His grip loosens.

“Hoya,” the inflections in his voice say more than needs to be said. Muscular arms are wrapped around him. Dongwoo ruffles his hair affectionately. Sungjong’s smile becomes a little more real.

“Sungyeol,” he purrs, and Myungsoo wants to rip Sungyeol’s legs off so he can’t jump up the way he did, so he can’t run to Sungjong the way he did.

The words that don’t come from those lips are harsh.

The way they no longer whisper secrets to him in the dark. The way they no longer giggle at every word that leaves his mouth. The way they no longer call his name in the dreariest of days, just for the sake of calling his name.

The way those lips don’t directly tell him that they hate him, but they still beckon to him with every purse, pout, and pucker.

I can’t go away, not when you keep calling me.

Because it’s always been the unsaid words that matter most in this relationship. The silences when whispers aren’t enough to say what’s on their minds. The unsaid hate on those lips. The unsaid confession that Myungsoo will never be able to release now.

I don’t have to act a fool.

When I’m around you, I am a fool.

So I promise I don't hate you guys! I just got stranded in the desert without wifi.

Okay, exaggeration. My mom is awesome, I got taken on a surprise vacation and I just got back. Unfortunately, I didn't plan ahead and wifi in the middle of nowhere is sporadic and horrible for AFF. BUT I did promise fics this Spring Break, and fics there shall be! 

I also got a weird inspiration tick from the desert so watch out for something weird. As soon as I finish up these other fics. Aigoo.

Expect Through My Lens to END as in epilogue up and completed by first week of school (so by April 8th). Himduro is being a pain in the , but I will get to work on that as soon as I pretty much memorize all the lyrics to the song I'm using for it (hint hint, check out Hoya's chappie again. Major clues in there). I've been working on Hot Maknae even while stranded in the desert (because I love you all so much), so expect another chapter... well sometime after *crossed fingers* I receive an explosion of love for this chapter?

I don't know... your explosions of love are weird. But I love them. 

So I'll now shut up and get back to writing. Please know that I love your comments to death, whether it be a super helpful "This was my favorite part" or just a "Please update," I WILL RESPOND TO YOU. Because I love you.

Except delib. If you dare give me a "please update" I will avoid you on skype for a week. I kid.