Seventeen was an eventful age for Kunpimook Bhuwakul.

He debuted, he performed in his homeland with his group, he might have grown a wisdom tooth (or that could just be Jackson forcibly looking into his mouth and ooh-ing really loudly for no reason) and he found himself waist deep in a ridiculous infatuation that honestly, taking himself into account, made no sense whatsoever.

Yugyeom wasn’t the type of guy Kunpimook, in the situation he was in then, had expected to crush on. He was younger (all the hyungs and you had to choose the one dongsaeng), he didn’t exactly stand out in terms of visuals (you try putting yourself in a room with a guy like Mark and noticing the one like Yugyeom first, you hypocrites) and most importantly, he was Kunpimook’s best friend.

Yeah. You don’t fall in love with your best friend. That’s like, illegal, in like, forty-something unsaid codes of conduct out there.

But whatever it is, when Kunpimook’s about half a year into it and realizes it isn’t some passing phase that’s going to get out of his hair anytime soon, he starts to panic. And when people panic, they inevitably do stupid things, right? Like start blatantly disobeying company policies and sneaking out at night, wander in the dark on your own questioning the meaning of life, maybe accidentally (and illegally) get drunk, and perhaps do all three and then stumble home and very angrily and unintentionally confess to the love of your life you hate them because all you can think about all day every day is how to slam them against the nearest wall and kiss them till you can’t breathe-…

Yeah.

Seventeen was an eventful age for Kunpimook Bhuwakul.

Two and a half years later, he wonders what’s changed. Certainly not the hating.

About four minutes before they’re supposed to report to the waiting area backstage for their newest comeback stage, Kunpimook’s dragged bodily into an unused changing room and slammed against the door once it’s closed.

“Ow, you stupid-…” Kunpimook hisses, trying to ignore the dark coils of pleasure that throb at the pit of his stomach at the action, and Yugyeom looms over him, slightly bemused. “That hurt.”

“You like it though,” Yugyeom says it lazily, as though it’s a well-known fact, and Kunpimook shivers at the rich undertones to his voice, the way puberty’s so very unfairly blessed this boy. “Don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Kunpimook grumbles, grabbing Yugyeom’s black tie and tugging him down with vindictive aggressiveness, not caring that he’s probably crumping the starched cloth. Some vague, tiny voice at the back of his mind is singing praises that the stylists have put them in suits again, as his eyes finally rake freely over the taller boy’s impressive stature, the way his shoulders fill out the crisp, expensive fabric of the blazer nicely, the smudging of his eyeliner and silvery grey contact lenses doing just right to make his face seem ethereally gorgeous, and the smug tilt to his lips isn’t helping much either.

They’ve all grown since debut, but there’s no denying that out of any of them, maturity looks best on their maknae. Over the two and a half years he’s somehow managed to grow taller, now clearly outstripping even Jaebum, and his features have sharpened, baby fat disappearing and replaced by a chiseled jaw, defined cheekbones, and a gaze that could pierce straight through you and come out the other side of your skull. And somewhere along the way some numbskull stylists (whom Kunpimook would really like to thank) thought it would be a good idea to put Yugyeom on the same bodybuilding program as Jackson and Jaebum, so even though Kunpimook’s shot up by quite a fair bit (which had led to a lot of joking questions directed at Jackson about how the weather was down there), Yugyeom still manages to trap him easily against the door, dwarfing him with his broad shoulders and built biceps, a growing smirk on his face that Kunpimook would very much like to slap off, that is, if his brain hadn’t short circuited, leading to a complete loss of motor control.

“Make me,” Yugyeom near breathes down Kunpimook’s neck, eliciting a pleasurable shiver, before he leans down, lips catching the older boy’s plush ones easily, the ghost of his cheeky smile leaving yet another invisible tattoo on Kunpimook’s lips.

Yugyeom’s kisses still manage to surprise him every time, even though he supposes he’s had enough to last him several lifetimes. They start slow, soft, like baby’s breath, before intensifying exponentially in a silent yet overpowering way, stealing every last bit of oxygen from Kunpimook’s lungs still he’s left dazed, crumpled against the taller boy, overwhelmed and yet still desperate for more. He gazes up at the taller boy through fluttering lashes, trying to collect himself, fingers still wound loosely in the material of his vest, and feels an arm slide around his back, the other curling around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

“You look good tonight,” Yugyeom says, almost shyly, and Kunpimook scoffs with whatever breath he’s managed to regain, half-heartedly pushing the boy away. It’s parts like these of Yugyeom that Kunpimook treasures, the childish innocence that hasn’t managed to fade in their ascent to fame, the sweetness he hasn’t yet outgrown. These are the fragments of Kim Yugyeom that Kunpimook’s sworn to protect to the death.

“Have you seen yourself?” Kunpimook mutters, knowing very well why he’s displeased and refusing to admit it. “I bet the fangirls will be all over you tonight.”

“Why the tone? Jealous?” Yugyeom grins, and Kunpimook pretends to kick him, rolling his eyes. “You know you’re all I can think about, Bambam-ah.”

“That was,” Kunpimook declares, hoping he drowns out the satisfaction in his voice at Yugyeom’s words. “Extremely cheesy. Go away.”

“Nope. I’m staying right here,” Yugyeom smiles, like the brat he is, and Kunpimook’s about to deal out the consequences when a very annoyed Bambam, where the hell are you rings out in the corridor outside, and both of them jump apart instinctively, fingers nervously straightening fabric and fixing hair. Kunpimook makes sure Yugyeom is ready before he opens the door hastily, yelping when he comes face to face with a rather stormy leader.

“Hi hyung,” Kunpimook does the first thing that comes to his mind in situations like these and tries to bluff his way out of it, pulling on a cheerful grin as he sidles cautiously past the leader, tugging Yugyeom along insistently. “Hey, don’t frown so much. I think I see more white hair back there.”

“Get to the waiting area now,” Jaebum hisses, pinning both of them with an Angry Look that has them scuttling backstage meekly in an attempt to escape the wrath of their leader. But Kunpimook can still feel Yugyeom’s fingers loosely interwoven with his, can still hear suppressed mirth bubbling out from behind him, and somehow that makes sure nothing else matters anymore.

Kunpimook supposes he should’ve seen it coming when Jinyoung calls them out of their room a few days after that, and they emerge to see everyone already seated in the living room, expressions oscillating between grave severity and slight embarrassment. There’s a space left specially for them (the two of them, he realizes) when usually the maknaes would have to start up several strikes and activist protests to fight for a space in their cramped dorm during meetings like these.

Jaebum clears his throat once they’ve sat down.

“Do the two of you have anything to say for yourselves?”

Kunpimook wears his best innocent face, but a rather unpleasant sensation is rising in his stomach.

“Uh…what are we having for supper tonight?” Kunpimook attempts, and Yugyeom stifles a laugh from beside him. Jaebum looks mildly annoyed.

“Alright look,” Jackson pipes up from where he’s leaning against Mark, who’s not-so-subtly attempting to push him off. “We know the thing the two of you have going on-…”

“Damnnit,” Yugyeom mutters.

“…-and we’re just going to say we have no opposition to it whatsoever.”

“Ugh, be quiet, you at this,” Mark groans, finally pushing him off, so Jackson rolls onto the floor like a tumbleweed, yelling, and Jaebum rolls his eyes.

“Look, yeah, but there is still a need for some sort of ground rules here, seeing as the two of you have already progressed to sneaking off on your own right before our scheduled performances-…”

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it,” Youngjae comments dryly from where he’s comfortably appropriated the beanbag, returning Jaebum’s affronted look with an unflinching gaze, while Jinyoung has the decency to at least look embarrassed. Youngjae’s another person whom maturity’s changed- after nineteen he’d gained a sort of diplomatic immunity amongst the hyungs that allowed him to walk over all of them without anyone so much as laying a finger on him. Kunpimook had very wisely decided not to give it more thought than he was probably supposed to.

“Well the point is,” Jaebum continues, waving irritably, as if that somehow erased all previous irresponsible expeditions on his part. “The two of you need to learn how to keep it on the down low or we’ll all get in trouble.”

“Excuse-…” Kunpimook splutters, straightening at the audacity of that statement. “You say that like you and Jinyoung-hyung-…”

“We don’t stare at each other all the time in public, at least,” Jaebum shoots back.

“…-and Jackson-hyung and Mark-hyung-…”

“You’ve no idea how much effort it took me to train him to stop trying to me during fansigns,” Mark laments, and Jackson makes an indignant noise.

“…-and this weird thing Youngjae’s had going on with all four of you ever since he turned legal-…”

“That,” Youngjae points at him, turning a steady shade of red. “Was uncalled for. And it’s Youngjae-hyung to you.”

Kunpimook ignores him.

“You’re saying you guys don’t pose as much of a risk as we do?” Kunpimook argues, and Yugyeom nods importantly from beside him, probably enjoying the show more than he’s making an effort to help.

“Well, we know how to keep it artificial,” Jaebum insists. “We trade partners,” this elicits four faces to flush rather spectacularly, and Kunpimook feels a wave of nausea wash over him at the implications of that statement. “We keep it above the belt. Make it exceedingly cheesy and public. That’s the sort of stuff the fans like.”

“It didn’t look very artificial when Jackson-hyung was putting his hand down the front of Mark-hyung’s swimming trunks during our last pool shoot,” Bambam retorts. Jaebum turns to look at Jackson accusingly, and aforementioned target turns red, spluttering as he tries to find something to respond with.

“Excuse you, young man,” Jackson finally settles on saying, as if he’s in a position to say something like that at all. “When we were your age-…”

“When you were our age, you were feeling Mark up in the back of the van,” Yugyeom suddenly interjects rather irritably, and a very stark silence follows, in which everyone turns to stare at the accused.

“Oh my goodness,” Mark’s eyes are wide when he leans forward after a while, genuine worry in his voice. “Yugyeom, I had no idea you were awake, I am so sorry-…”

Kunpimook then realizes that Yugyeom’s not just exaggerating and is actually telling the truth, and swells indignantly, about to go over and murder Jackson in cold blood for daring to commit such obscene acts around his baby when Jinyoung beats him to it, as a sudden frightened silence falls over the room when he stands slowly, turning on Jackson with an expression that can only suggest pure maternal fury.

“You mean to say,” Jinyoung starts in a hushed voice that somehow still manages to ring dangerously clear in everyone’s head. “You were touching Mark. In the back of our van. Right next to Yugyeom?” 

“Dear-…” Jaebum starts in a feeble attempt to calm him down.

“Don’t dear me, Im Jaebum!” Jinyoung says in a shrill voice, as he advances on a steadily paling Jackson. “You were touching Mark in the van right next to my baby?”

The situation escalates to the point where it takes the combined efforts of Jaebum, Mark and Youngjae to stop Jinyoung from castrating Jackson in the living room, and Kunpimook watches in mild interest as rather entertaining events unfold before him.

“They were really feeling each other up in the van beside you?” he whispers after a while, when Jinyoung’s kicking out from behind Jaebum and Mark in an attempt to gouge out Jackson’s eyeballs.

“Nah,” Yugyeom whispers back. “I was asleep the whole time. Lucky guess.”

Kunpimook has to stuff his knuckles in his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud, then, as Jackson continues to wail out apologies and repentance.

*

Things seem to slide back to their normal routines after that night, the usual seamless (yet somehow rather dysfunctional) interactions between all seven of them returning, except now Kunpimook feels he and Yugyeom have been recruited into some sort of circle that the five older ones had started a long time ago without their knowledge. It’s like they’ve passed a test- now Kunpimook can see the way they’re more relaxed around them, especially Jaebum and Mark, though Jinyoung still looks a little pensive when Mark makes a rather explicit statement or when Youngjae accidentally reveals rather juicy bits of information about one of the older boys’ “habits” (this usually occurs when the hyung in subject is being particularly mean or negligent). But then Jackson does stuff like parade around the dorms in racy studded leather underwear and Kunpimook realizes nothing much has changed between the seven of them at all.

(It doesn’t stop Kunpimook from standing on the couch to boo loudly and throw sofa cushions when this happens, though)

It’s a little weird, hearing their hyungs make crude jokes and references so much more openly around them now, but at the same time it’s nicer, comforting, almost like they’ve been added into some secret club they’d been kept in the dark about all this time. For once, Kunpimook feels like they’re in this team as all seven of them, not JJ Project and Martial Arts Tricking Duo and the Awkward Maknae Line.

At the same time, though, while he can safely say that both he and Yugyeom are growing comfortable with the new dynamic, there’s something Kunpimook feels the innate urge to protect in maknae still, regardless of how comfortable the younger boy may seem with the openness with which they speak of their relationships, or many centimetres taller or broader he may be than Kunpimook. Something about the relationship they share that Kunpimook can’t yet openly discuss or joke about like the rest of them do, maybe because he can’t say he’ll be sure it’ll still be the same after he does.

He’s reminded at the most critical of times of all the things he doesn’t know yet about this thing he has between Yugyeom and himself, all the little loose ends and gaping cracks in their relationship that makes him want to hide it, shield it from the world, until he can say as confidently as any of them that they’re invincible and still will be when everything’s over.

Kunpimook’s smile disappears when he hears Yugyeom let something slip over dinner about their first kiss, back when they were rookies and clueless about relationships, still growing out of adolescence and struggling to distinguish between infatuation and love. It’d been after a particularly gruelling dance practice session, when Kunpimook was exhausted, tired of trying to impress managers and fans and the hyungs they held in such high regard, and he’d fallen back on the only thing he knew then would be there forever by his side, had done the only thing he felt capable of doing back then, and had demanded attention and love and care from the maknae to the point Yugyeom had nothing else to give.

He’d always thought himself above the younger boy back then, had pressed himself hopefully into the crowd of much cooler hyungs, thirsty for attention and delighted when it was given, and expecting that Yugyeom be around to catch him when they weren’t.

It’s an unbearably selfish thought when he turns it over in his mind now, something he tries to pretend never existed- another fissure in the seemingly unbreakable bond between the two of them that Kunpimook doesn’t want anyone else knowing about, something he doubts even Yugyeom knows. So his lips thin at the memory as the guilt swirls in like a tidal wave, and he turns away from Yugyeom’s expectant grin as the others cackle at the recount, not watching as it falters and fades without his approval.

Kunpimook curls up in his bed after another day of promotions, after practice and radio shows and photoshoots, and though the lights are on he closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep. They’d moved into a bigger dorm after their first win, one with more bathrooms and a nicer kitchen and air-conditioning in every room, and even then Kunpimook had still found himself hoping for changes in rooming, hoping to be given an oh-so-elusive chance to get closer to one of the older boys, but when everyone seemed comfortable keeping things the way they were he never said a word, always ready to please.

It’s another reminder of that part of him he despises, the notion that rings cold and hollow and infectious in his mind that Yugyeom isn’t good enough for him, because he’s aware that this is the very reason he isn’t good enough for the younger boy either.

Because Yugyeom is precious and beautiful and understanding and everything Kunpimook knows he’ll never be able to reciprocate, not in a million lifetimes, and Kunpimook doesn't even deserve him, much less deserve better.

He doesn’t move when he hears the door swing open and shut quietly, goodnights being called softly into the living room area, footsteps padding silently across the room. Kunpimook can name all the things Yugyeom will be doing without looking- charging his phone, setting an alarm, putting his water bottle on the nightstand, like those actions have worn down riverbeds in his mind because of the number of times he’s seen the younger boy do them just before they sleep.

There’s the snap of the light switch, and the room is thrown into soft darkness that Yugyeom doesn’t bother to illuminate tonight with the cute disco light they’d received from their fan just after their debut, and Kunpimook feels impossibly guiltier than he had before. He wonders for a few nerve-wrecking moments if he should turn around and talk, but he knows that his pride would never allow him to do such a thing. It’s always Yugyeom who initiates things like these, Yugyeom who has to admit first that he’s wrong before Kunpimook grudgingly apologises as well.

All inner monologue silences, however, when he feels the bed dip with an added weight behind him, feels the blanket lift slightly to accommodate a new presence. Kunpimook shivers involuntarily when lean arms and legs slide to envelope his smaller frame from the back, making him feel tiny in comparison, and the bare skin of his arms burns like ice and lava where it meets Yugyeom’s, both pleasant and jittery at the same time.

They stay like that for a while, drifting together in a stretched limbo where limits have no meaning, frozen into a broken piece of a moment in their time they can’t quite place. Kunpimook’s arms and legs feel like dead weight and his mind is weary but he can’t sleep, imprisoned against his will in the present, unable to move on until he’s resolved the knot that’s tangled itself into a mess in his heart.

“You okay?” As usual, it’s Yugyeom who begins the conversation first, voice low and tender in Kunpimook’s ear.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Kunpimook doesn’t know why he’s avoiding the discussion, because he knows just as well, and perhaps even better than Yugyeom, that this crack in their relationship can only widen from here.

“You looked…upset,” Yugyeom’s choosing his words carefully, and Kunpimook realises just how cautious the younger boy feels he needs to be when he speaks to him, when Kunpimook himself speaks with total disregard to how cutting or coarse his words can be, and it drives yet another dagger of guilt into the older boy’s heart. “During dinner. When we were talking about Jackson-hyung and Mark-hyung’s first date at the ice cream shop.”

“It wasn’t about that,” Kunpimook mumbles, slightly relieved and yet irritated that Yugyeom hasn’t gotten wind of what exactly is bothering him.

“It’s because I talked about the first time we kissed, wasn’t it?”

Or, maybe not.

Kunpimook remains mute, too proud to admit it and too desperate to lie and say otherwise. He feels Yugyeom shift behind him, feels the mattress sink where he’s probably propping himself up with an elbow, and there’s the ghost of a warm breath across his cheek, just enough to make Kunpimook flinch slightly.

“Why?” Yugyeom’s voice is sad, if not a little confused, and Kunpimook hates that voice the most because he knows he’ll never be able to ignore anything said in that voice. He rolls over slightly so he comes eye to eye with the younger boy, the glare that he’s gotten all ready fading and dying a rather pathetic death when he sees the reproachful heartbreak in the other’s eyes.

Damn it.

“Look, I just-…” Kunpimook hopes the emotion behind every word he says isn’t as audible as it sounds to him, because he’s a nineteen-year-old young man, for crying out loud, and men don’t cry. “I just don’t like it when we say stuff that openly around the rest, okay? I know they’re comfortable with sharing about their own experiences but I’m just not ready for that, alright?”

“Why?” the confusion’s winning in Yugyeom’s voice now when he asks again, and Kunpimook feels a spark of unwarranted anger and frustration somewhere deep within the knot of conflict within him. “They’re our friends. I mean, it’s not like we’ve got anything to hide, right?”

“Of course that’s what you’ll say,” Kunpimook almost snaps, then, the bitterness and regret burning him up slowly from the inside, and immediately, he feels a stab of shame at the silence that follows, because he has no right, none at all to get angry at Yugyeom. He surprises himself by apologising grudgingly immediately after that. “Sorry. I’m just…not ready to talk about it yet, okay?”

Yugyeom doesn’t say a word, and the silence stretches like elastic, worn thin with tension, like someone’s hit the mute button in their relationship. It unnerves Kunpimook to the point he has to turn around, and something hits him like a hammer to his gut at the glistening in the corners of his boyfriend’s eyes, the trembling in his lower lip that so very easily betrays his feelings.

“Yugyeom-…” Kunpimook shifts hastily so he’s sitting up, guilt and panic crashing down in tidal waves in his chest that compound painfully when Yugyeom withdraws his hands before he can hold them.

“Kunpimook-ah, I know I-…” Yugyeom draws a breath that sounds like it’s driving knives into his lungs, one that makes Kunpimook want to kill himself for causing. “I know I’m not good enough-…I’ve never been, but I’ll try to be, I promise, I’ll be better-…”

“No no, it’s not like that,” Kunpimook’s babbling, almost, wrapping his arms around the younger boy, burying his face in his shoulder, because nothing could be further from the truth, and it’s Kunpimook’s fault, he’s the one who’s been living the lie that he deserves better than the treasure right before him. “That’s not true, don’t say that about yourself, it-…it’s because you’re too good for me, Yugyeom, I can’t-…”

“That’s a lie,” Yugyeom’s voice sounds tired, as though it’s a fact he’s long come to terms with, and Kunpimook’s heart splinters just a little further then. “You wish it was one of them, don’t you?”

Kunpimook doesn’t reply at that- he can’t, not with the lump that’s suddenly lodged itself firmly in his throat, and his arms falter around Yugyeom’s back. It’s as if that’s all the confirmation Yugyeom’d needed, because he continues, voice growing wearier with every syllable.

“Every time we’re about to be grouped up on variety shows, you’re hoping to be paired off with one of them, aren’t you? And when we’re in practice and being taught new choreography you’ll wish you have a special part with the others, right?”

“Stop it,” Kunpimook tightens his grip around Yugyeom’s shoulders, fingers winding tightly into the loose fabric of the back of Yugyeom’s shirt, as if holding onto the younger boy will prevent him from slipping away. “Stop it.”

“And you have to be stuck with me in the end because no one else wants me and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Kunpimook-…”

“No,” Kunpimook’s voice burns with a new resolve when he speaks now, separating from the younger boy to look directly into his eyes to convey every bit of sincerity he can now. Suddenly it’s like everything else is swept clear from his mind, all the now petty worries and fears pushed aside to make way for the one thing he knows with startling clarity. “Don’t you ever say that, Kim Yugyeom. You’re strong and talented and beautiful and if people don’t know that then they’re the stupid ones, okay?” Kunpimook’s breath catches in his chest, and he grips the younger boy’s arms a little tighter, surprised when tears start falling from his own eyes. “I-I’m the stupid one here, okay? I’m still working it out but I’ll get it one day, I’ll figure out how to treat you properly one day.”

“Just don’t go,” Yugyeom’s hugs still comfort him, even at a time like this. They still manage to envelop him, warm and soft and all-encompassing, so Kunpimook feels like he’s being swathed entirely in a blanket whenever the younger boy hugs him. “Just don’t ever leave me, please?”

Kunpimook’s heart feels like it shatters at the simplicity of that request, and he runs a hand through the taller boy’s soft hair slowly, lips numb with fear, fear of breaking the younger boy more than he already has.

“You too,” the words are sticky and dry off Kunpimook’s tongue, because to say anything more would be to uproot the words right from the bottom of his heart. Instead, he buries his face in Yugyeom’s shirt, tears staining damp tracks in the thin fabric, hoping it conveys whatever his pride won’t let him confess.

There are secrets Kunpimook buries in the deepest caves of his mind till he can almost swear he’s forgotten them himself, but at times like these all it takes is one glance, one tear, one moment of hesitation, and he knows the reminder of his faults will always live on in the people around him. At times like these, the guilt and regret swarms him, suffocates him, has him pleading for mercy, to the point he knows that even if he tries to make up for it for the rest of his life, he will never be able to pay Yugyeom back for everything.

At times like these, now facing the wall shrouded in darkness, pillow damp with tears, Kunpimook waits the silence out like the lapse after a storm, waiting for the catch, waiting to be charged and have the consequences he deserves finally dealt out.

But then he feels the warm, even breaths tickling the back of his neck in a steady rhythm, a nose nuzzled gently into the back of his head, an arm curled around his waist and fingers loosely interlaced with his, as he’s tucked under the soft comforter and into an even softer embrace, and at times like these-…

…-at times like these he thinks he might just possibly be forgiven.

a/n: yep. not proud. what are exams cries