Hakyeon awakes with a pounding headache and a sour mouth that makes him grimace and wish he was dead. His body feels gross, and lifting the two thick duvets that cover his body, sees he’s wearing his pajamas, which he doesn’t remember putting on.

Probably Taekwoon changed him, that silly, thoughtful hamster.

He first plans to go take a shower, take off the layer of dry sweat that clings to his body and plain honestly, stinks. Brush his teeth and just to be sure, be certain that nothing died in there. His movements feel sluggish, and Hakyeon promises himself he won’t ever drink that much again, not matter how upset he is; he can’t record much past the moment when Wonshik left him standing like a fool in the middle of the dance floor.

… The sad and pathetic larva.

Hakyeon hoped he would step on a Lego. That all the chocolate chips on his cookies be in fact raisins.

He had made his priorities very obvious on the club, preferring to tend a drunk friend – Hakyeon ignores that part of him that insists the action was very honorable and that he undoubtedly would have done the same without even blinking in the direction of whoever was with him – at staying with him, Cha Hakyeon, the most desired body of all B1, the whole college, counting his reputation. Damn him to hell, Hakyeon had let Wonshik touch him, scolded him lightly after he kissed his neck. They were, for all effects, grinding against each other on that dance floor.

Ugh, Hakyeon wants to forget all of this. Never look in the stupidly handsome face ever again or think of the caring actions Wonshik seemed to have when he wasn’t trying too hard.

And he still has to resolve this situation with Sanghyuk; they couldn’t continue to ignore each other’s presence. Hakyeon wouldn’t pry on the youngest problems, as much as he wants to help. Sanghyuk has this abominable habit of thinking he can keep everything to himself, deal with his problems alone, despite him and Taekwoon proving over and over again that no, doing everything by yourself doesn’t work, their maknae is stubborn.

His head throbs painfully, and Hakyeon stops worrying. After a bath and his toothbrush, a change of clothes and breakfast – his phone says it’s a little past 9a.m – preferably made by Taekwoon, he will be capable of meditate his options.

Twenty minutes later and he’s showered and starting to feel like a human being once more; he smells bean sprout soup, the noise of the rice-cooker and the constant thumping that usually means Taekwoon cutting something for a side dish. Oh, how Hakyeon loves Sunday, when none of them has to go somewhere – the brat is almost always out somewhere with his camera, filming… everything and Taekwoon stays in the B1 to use their instruments on the days he doesn’t need to work on the cake shop until it’s dark – and so can enjoy a cuddle on the couch, seeing some stupid anime or a rerun of a historical drama or a tearjerker movie, while eating snacks and leftover cake Taekwoon brings from the shop. On Sundays they talk about their weeks and plan to go out, to the zoo or an exhibition and put Sanghyuk and Taekwoon’s bed together so they all can nap in a dog pile.

With the vision in mind, Hakyeon steps into the living room, where a countertop divides the small room from the kitchen; he halts altogether, eyes threatening to jump out of its sockets.

Taekwoon is indeed cooking, his broad back still covered with his pajama shirt, and Sanghyuk does sits by the countertop, hair shaggy and shirt falling from a shoulder like the oldest expected.

What he didn’t expect is to see a boy – distastefully pretty, with the complete set of double eyelids, masculine face, straight nose and a hint of dimples – standing on the kitchen, bustling from a place to other, asking in a voice annoyingly deep – it reminds him of that larva prototype – where are the plates and if he should help Taekwoon with making the side dish, or if it is better for him to wash what they dirtied. The final strike to cause Hakyeon a cardiac attack is when Taekwoon turns to the boy with that blank face of his and quietly answers that yes, he could do with some help.

Of course, being Taekwoon, what really passes through his mouth is a soft: “Cut the radish,” which is more than he ever lets Hakyeon do.

Annoyingly Pretty – somewhere in his mind the nickname sounds familiar, but before he can place the why, his head throbs painfully – smiles in Taekwoon’s direction, and yes, he has dimples, deep holes on each cheek that only make one pay more attention to his white, perfectly lined teeth. His lifelong friend opens discreetly a space near him for the intruder to fit with his body, evidently toned even clothed… Wait a second.

Are those Taekwoon’s clothes?????

“Hakyeon,” his name brigs him back to reality – more annoyed than ever, slightly scandalized and moody – and he meets Taekwoon’s slated eyes looking straight at him, a big bowl on his hands. His expression is just as blank as ever, no a signal of embarrassment for having someone over or irritation at him and the admittedly stunt he pulled the night before. It’s reassuring, if not a little disconcerting.

Sanghyuk and Annoyingly Pretty both turn towards him, and their reactions are so completely opposed it’s funny; while the intruder – how dare he? – widens his orbs and flushes a pretty – his mouth curves downwards, honestly peeved at so much good looks at once – pink, brown hair helping to hide his face as he lowers his head, Sanghyuk pales and closes his eyes, seeming to take a deep breath.

“Hyung.”

At this, Hakyeon feels his whole body stiffening and the smile on his lips tastes forced. “Good morning to you all! What do we have for breakfast, Taekwoonie? And who happens to be this cute stranger that’s helping you?”

A tiny crease appears in between Taekwoon’s brows, as he doesn’t buy his cheerful act; he refuses to answer to it, plainly stating: “Take these.”

‘These’ are headache pills, two white capsules being held out to him. On Taekwoon’s another hand, a glass of water.

“Oh? Thank you~” Hakyeon manages to singsong, his own voice ringing on his ears.

He gulps down the medicine, smiling broadly as he gives the glass, now empty, back to Taekwoon. The younger turns his back at him, nudging Annoyingly Pretty – who seems very confused with everything, and goddammit, even confused he is adorable. He’ll steal Taekwoon away from him with this face, and Hakyeon hates him for this, hates his entire presence – slightly to the side, continuing to prepare breakfast. The boy stares at Taekwoon with evident bewilderment, eyes focused only on his life-long friend, infatuated like all before him, who dared to approach Taekwoon.

Another nudge and Annoyingly Pretty turns to him, bowing briefly. “I’m Lee Hongbin, Hakyeon-sunbaenim.”

“Hongbin-ah then? It’s a pleasure to meet you, but what are you doing here?”

The boy – Hongbin, ugh – blushes and looks at his friend. Hakyeon follows the interaction, purposely avoiding meeting Sanghyuk’s gaze, unwavering and cutting.

“Well I… I… I accompanied hyungnim yesterday… I met him at the bus-stop and…”

Hakyeon stops listening right there, suddenly consumed by mortification. If this guy met Taekwoon yesterday, that means he saw his pathetic self at his worst, drunk and too honest, too earnest on his opinions, and specially, on his sorrows. Normally Hakyeon wouldn’t drink so much, but with Sanghyuk ignoring him and after being… dumped by Wonshik, it got too much. One shot became two, two became five until he lost count and in one last rational thought, called Taekwoon to go pick him.

“Oh,” he can’t think of anything more to say. “Oh.”

Hongbin rubs the back of his neck, seemingly embarrassed. He attempts to say something, but Taekwoon looks at him with that pretty eyes of his, blinking repeatedly,  head tilting to the side in a mix of puppy and kitten, silent and soliciting all at once, too irresistible to be denied by anyone, not needing to say a word; Hongbin immediately opens his mouth – this time to gap – and freezes. Taekwoon turns the stove off, walking away and entering the room he shares with Sanghyuk, promptly followed by Hongbin.

Hakyeon doesn’t know if he should thank his friend or curse him to hell, the prospect of being alone with Sanghyuk equally bad and good.

“That dude has been trailing after hyung since yesterday, it’s ridiculous,” Sanghyuk says, still fixatedly staring into Hakyeon’s soul.

“I don’t like him,” Hakyeon answers quietly, the air heavy with awkwardness.

His tone makes Sanghyuk sigh, the creases in his forehead deepening. “Look, hyung, we need to talk– Better, I need to talk.”

He gulps, nodding. Walking over to where the maknae is, he is surprised when two long arms wrap around his waist, pulling him close, Sanghyuk hiding his face on his belly, a blonde halo surrounding it. Warmth spreads through Hakyeon’s body, and he knows that whatever comes out of the younger’s mouth, he is already forgiven; Sanghyuk doesn’t act childish, he doesn’t initiate touches that don’t imply possessiveness – a hand on the waist when someone is staring too long at him or Taekwoon, a intertwine of hands in clubs – and he doesn’t say sorry.

That doesn’t mean Hakyeon isn’t eager to hear the boy stumbling to say whatever he needs to. Preferably to apologize.

“Hyukkie–”

“Iwmsowwy.”

Muffled by Hakyeon’s belly, Sanghyuk’s words are lost in meaning. “What?” Hakyeon asks.

The youngest doesn’t answer, shaking his head in negative. Feeling his patience running thin, the headache still present and pounding on his ears, Hakyeon grabs the sides of the boy’s head, pushing it roughly so he can see his handsome face, a little of his childish features still clinging to the more defined angles. “Say it properly, Sanghyuk. You’re not a child anymore to hide in the skirts of your mother, someone I’m not.”

Dark brown orbs blink and Sanghyuk pouts ever so slightly, angelical when framed by his dyed hair, down and soft around his face. “Hakyeon-hyung, I…”

He stops, and thirty seconds pass with the struggle clear in his entire face.

It would be pitiful, if it wasn’t so funny.

“Breathe deeply, Sanghyuk-ah, it’s not that hard,” Hakyeon concedes a bit of mercy. He caresses Sanghyuk’s cheeks, brushing the hair aside.

The youngest does what he’s told, breathing in and out for another thirty seconds, then: “I’m sorry hyung. I… What I did a few days ago was stupid. I shouldn’t have– That day went badly for me; a dude thought he could teach me manners and I was really pissed. He’s the freaking best in his class and I need his work, and I can’t just rip his hands off, as much as I want to. Because of that, I didn’t want to talk to anyone and I lashed out on you. I’m sorry hyung, I truly am, so can you forgiv–”

Biting his lips to avoid cooing, Hakyeon climbs Sanghyuk’s lap, hugging him close, nuzzling into his hair, softly the boy’s cheeks. The body underneath him freezes, the arms around his waist go slack.

“Oh, my baby Hyukkie, of course you’re forgiven! This was so cute, I wish I had filmed it!”

Bubbly with delight, Hakyeon hugs him closer and closer, kissing his forehead several times, giggling like a mad man. His headache is forgotten, and all the can focus on is Sanghyuk’s light relived sigh, his breathy chuckle and how he fully accepts the embrace, settling his face on Hakyeon’s chest, hands loosely set on his hips. Moments like these are Hakyeon’s favorite; the intimacy, the quiet love they feel for each other glowing bright and strong, felt through the touch of their bodies.

He rocks them both back and forward. “I love you, Hyukkie.”

The answer comes after a beat of silence, in a whisper. “I love you too, hyung.”

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.

Still on the minuscule apartment, Taekwoon and Hongbin stared silently at each other. Every now and then one would look at their cellphones, before going back to staring.

Honestly, it doesn’t bother Taekwoon; he is used to communicating with small gestures and tilts of head, a prolonged silence and a blink or two. Hakyeon and Sanghyuk are more than accustomed to his ways, and are able to easily read what he means, even if he’s not that opposed to talk near them; habit has made their situation comfortable and no one wishes to change it, yet, Hongbin clearly has no idea of what to do.

“Do you think they’re going to… fix things? The atmosphere out there seemed tense.”

Hongbin looks genuinely concerned; Taekwoon thinks it’s nice… How he seems to care for people he don’t know.

He hums, agreeing, not offering another input on the situation. He counts the time on his head, perceiving that thirteen minutes have passed. There’s no yelling or curses or the sound of anything breaking, so he supposes they are doing alright by themselves; Sanghyuk and Hakyeon’s relationship is one of a kind, too complicated to deal with some days.

“Are they… together?” Hongbin asks, fiddling with his phone, checking the time. He couldn’t stop moving, how aggravating. “They seem close.”

Taekwoon blinks confusedly at the question, suddenly thoughtful. He never really imagined his friends together in a more serious way; their three-way relationship is very platonic, too touchy and possessive, but something profound? An actual lover relationship? Hakyeon and Sanghyuk as boyfriends, loving each other more than they love Taekwoon? They would leave Taekwoon behind.

Taekwoon doesn’t like it. “They’re not,” he says, maybe too venomously, “Hakyeon and Sanghyuk are not together.”

Judging by Hongbin’s face – almond eyes and mouth open in shock – he overdid it. “Ok…”

“I’m sorry,” hanging his head low, he apologizes. That was uncalled for and he’s sorry for losing control.

There’s a shuffling noise, and after, Taekwoon feels a hand – with callouses he knows come from playing the guitar, fingers tanner, shorter and stockier than his – lay on top of his, trembling a little of what he thinks is nerves. It’s warm, and when he lifts his eyes, he meets Hongbin looking down at their hands, his ears and cheeks tinted pink, on his bottom lip. His dimples are noticeable and… so cute Taekwoon wants to poke at them.

“Hey hyungnim, it’s okay,” the younger boy tries to soothe him, “that was insensible of me. I didn’t have the right to pry.”

He’s so clumsy it’s cute, Taekwoon thinks, tilting his head.

Still too forward. Yesterday was one thing, now it’s different; he takes his hand away from Hongbin’s, hugging his own torso, trapping his bottom lip in between his teeth. He’s now worried, analyzing the moments he spends with the other two, trying to see if there is any indicative that one or both of them nurture something more. Hakyeon does enjoy plunging into Sanghyuk’s lap more than he does his, and Sanghyuk prefers Hakyeon’s massages. Hakyeon is always clinging to the boy’s neck, and Sanghyuk mock-complains about the constant piggyback rides, going back and forward with the oldest.

“I don’t like this idea,” he finds himself saying, eyes widening at the unexpected declaration.

Hongbin appears just as surprised, blinking repeatedly at him with his hand still awkwardly in the air, where Taekwoon’s hand was just a minute ago. “Can I ask why, hyungnim?”

“No,” Taekwoon hisses, angry with the situation’s unexpected development and the constant use of ‘hyungnim’. He’s angry, angry and tired and his Sunday morning just took a turn to the worst.

The dimpled boy nods in understanding, not pressing further. He plays with the sleeves of his shirt – Taekwoon’s shirt – and looks around, waiting.

Another thirteen minutes later and even Taekwoon is starting to get impatient; whatever the oldest and youngest have to discuss, it can’t possibly take this long, especially when one of Sanghyuk’s traits is straightforwardness. No diva-show Hakyeon puts on can last for more than five minutes with the boy.

“I should go,” he turns to see Hongbin getting up, smiling with his dimples clear on his face; a bit forced, but the dimples do their work in slightly dazing Taekwoon. “I never got back home from my d– college, and my roommates at this point must be buried underneath a pile of dirt, the pigs.”

Interesting motive for going back home.

Also standing, Taekwoon observes as Hongbin picks up his neatly folded – obsessively so – clothes, turning to take his shirt off, only to gasp under Taekwoon’s unwavering gaze; he admires the hard planes of the younger’s chest, the sinuous dips forming his abs and the muscled biceps, for he is human, and knows when someone is beautiful.

“I’m sorry hyungnim, that was so inappropriate! Geez, I’m stupid beyond reason!” Hongbin exclaims, making a mad dash to the bathroom.

Hmm, such a kid.

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Well, here I am...?

On a little break from college, exhausted because of a infernal week with mean relatives and way too many tests.

But Happy New Year! I wish that every single one of you conquer all you want for this year, that your lives are filled with love, happiness and health - wealth is nice too - and that you all surround yourselves with the people you love!

New chapter with the Chasang things finally getting their sh*t straight. And who would've thought Taekwoon was a jealous baby~?

I hope you all enjoyed, thank you so much you who reviewed and subscribed to this, I really love and appreciate it all! I'm sorry for my mistakes and please feel free to tell me about them!

Next chapter I'll focus more on Raken...

And people, one last thing... What are your thoughts about how the story is progressing? Is it too slow? And what about the developing relationships? Should I focus more on one or in all of them?

See you all (hopefully) soon~