“Thank you Starlights for--” (sob) “--supporting VIXX LR--” (sniffle) “--you are--” (shaky exhale) “--the best!”

Improvising speeches used to be a struggle, but he’d gotten pretty good at them, especially since he started hosting.  That doesn’t mean that people should go around making it an outright obstacle course for him.  

First there was the face buried in his shoulder, nose sharp against his collarbone, making all sorts of wet smothery noises that were all too familiar when it came to Wonsik.  And always meant another soggy patch on his shirt (and another load of laundry tonight).  

And which were now being projected over the sound systems, thanks to the mic at Hongbin’s cheek.  

“Congratulations~  You worked so h--” (loud snuffle) “--hard, we’re so proud of you!”  And now his eyes were getting wet, damn it, and the smile that felt like it would eat his face off threatened to squeeze the embarrassing tears right out of his eyes.  

Just like the arm around his waist threatened to squeeze the life out of his lungs.  Wonsik was clingy enough on any given day, but was nothing short of a boa constrictor right now, fingers digging hard into his ribs and squeezing tighter with every shuddery breath that huffed against his neck.  Hongbin shot a pleading look to Taekwoon, but the other still stood staring, wide-eyed and distant with his mouth a cute little “o.”  He hadn’t moved since the first obnoxiously loud burst of confetti.

The speech was shorter than he liked--there was too much to say and too much to feel--but even so he was still relieved when the first few notes of the song rang out over the speakers and drowned his increasingly halting words.  He shuffled towards Taekwoon, Wonsik still attached like a six-foot koala, and squeezed his shoulder as soon as he was within arms reach.  Taekwoon blinked, once, twice, before his eyes sharpened.  He picked up the song mid-note, belting as clear and sharp as ever, but not before absently ruffling a hand through the silver hair still half-tucked under Hongbin’s chin.

The giggles were hitting him now (making Wonsik’s sobby noises waver like he was riding in a bumpy car) and his cheeks ached like never before.  He’d for weeks over this but for now he just tightened the arm around his waist and beamed even wider at the still-dazed Taekwoon singing his heart out.  Just then Wonsik looked up, face wet and puffy and eyes more reddened than the eyeliner could ever make them, and grinned suddenly.

“You’re crying,” he snickered, voice still thick.

Hongbin hit him.