After he finally wipes off all the layers of make up, face feeling raw and oversensitive, Heecheon still finds himself in the dim living room.   

He lingers at the doorway of Yoondong and Inhaeng’s room. Sungho’s even breathing soft against his ears.

He tells himself he just wants to avoid Younghoon’s overbearing affection, Jaeyong’s teasing. But when his feet shuffle back, the floor creaking, he considers turning back to it, he’s gotten used to both.

There isn't much time to retreat when the ajar door opens completely, Inhaeng's eyes are narrowed with the heaviness of sleep, hair pressed down from where he was laying down.

“Heecheon,” Inhaeng's voice breaks from disuse, catching at the end when he swallows and speaks again.

“Are they being noisy again?” Inhaeng asks, voice clearer, stronger, face pulling into one of sympathy.

Heecheon can only nod, feeling the beginnings of guilt form from his lie. But it ebbs away when Inhaeng’s large hand wraps around his wrist, tugging him forward gently into the room.

It's a strange feeling to feel so small when he's used to being so tall compared to the others. But with Inhaeng's height also comes width and strength that swallows Heecheon up. He lets himself be moved around easily, pushed into the bottom bunk wordlessly. Yoondong’s breathing is low and soothing as he sleeps, completely unaware of Heecheon’s loud thoughts, the creaks of Inhaeng’s bed as they try to squeeze in together.

His body presses completely to the cool wall the bed is pushed up against. He takes a shaky inhale when he pushes back, breathing becoming easy again as the bed dips behind him. There's a warm hand draping over his waist, digging under him to wrap around his stomach, linking their hands together to lay against it.

Knees slot in-between his, cold toes touching the thin skin of his ankles.

“Lets sleep well,” Inhaeng mumbles as his chin finds refuge in the crook between Heecheon’s neck and shoulder.

His hair tickles Heecheon's ear and he squirms for a second before he untangles his hand from Inhaeng's, reaches back to blindly tuck the strands of hair behind Inhaeng's own ear.

His fingers clumsily end up finding purchase with Inhaeng's lips. They're rough from tough treatment, nervous biting from the stress of a comeback. Heecheon allows himself to let his fingertips skim over the swell and bow of them.

He thinks maybe Inhaeng must fallen asleep with how still and pliant he is against Heecheon's touches. He’s about to pull back, close his eyes and sleep in the warmth of Inhaeng when the arms around him tightened before they fall away from Heecheon, hands holding on to him instead as arms flex and relax, turning Heecheon around with such ease he feels like he blinked and missed it.

His face is pressed against Inhaeng's chest for a second, taking in the crisp smell of laundry detergent and the sharpness of Inhaeng's body wash.

Inhaeng pulls him back, arms going back to hold Heecheon close, knees bumping together.

Heecheon stares back at Inhaeng's wide eyes, his gaze flickering to his sharp nose, full mouth.

The heat of their proximity lights up a fire in the pit of his stomach, makes it flare up when Inhaeng's eyes flicker down to Heecheon's lips. His heart feels like it's about to self destruct. His chest burns with the feeling, around his ribs, making his skin break out into goosebumps.

He lets out a shaky breath, tries to think of something to say. But it’s become harder with every visit he's paid Inhaeng. He can't figure out how he feels when he’s lying in his own bunk and misses the scent of the other. The way he holds him so close and gentle. The warmness that catches his skin on fire.

He opens his mouth to apologize for intruding on an opportunity for sleep, knows well how hard it is to get any now that they're promoting. But Inhaeng leans forward, mouth catching Heecheon's in a kiss that feels too hot, languid with Inhaeng's sleepiness and warmth but so sweet and innocuous, Heecheon's eyes widen in surprise, stumped beyond response.

Inhaeng pulls back, eyes calculating, flitting over Heecheon's face, settling back on his mouth before he presses a close mouthed kiss on his lips. He goes in for a quick succession of them, eight nine ten of them before he claims Heecheon's bottom lip for himself, teeth dragging against it, pulling it just a bit before he lets it go.

Inhaeng's cheeks are tinted pink, arms gone tighter.

There's a moment of nothing, Sungho's soft snoring from the living room, Yoondong’s breathing, Inhaeng's heart beating in time with Heecheon's attempts to breathe properly.

There's really nothing Heecheon can do but lean forward, he kisses the ridge of Inhaeng's cheekbones where his blush gathers. His mouth trails down to the bow if his mouth, where he kisses gently, hoping Inhaeng understands his feelings.

He can feel the rumble of Inhaeng's soft hum from where his chest is pressed to the others. It's a content sound and a pleased feeling when Inhaeng manages to bring Heecheon in closer, bodies flushed together.

“I'm glad Younghoon and Jaeyong are loud,” Inhaeng says.

-

The room is still dim when Heecheon wakes up, his eyes adjust to the low lighting, eyes burning with still lingering sleep.

They have an early rehearsal lined up first, Heecheon can’t remember for which music show.  His mind is fuzzy on the details but he can't bother to try to remember when his nose is pressed against Inhaeng’s chest.  He doesn't want to pull away but between the heavy duvet and the morning summer air he feels like he's burning up.  The air between them is balmy, their skin sticks together.

“It’s not time yet,” Inhaeng says, surprising him,voice rough, “it’s still too early, stay.”

He can hear Yoondong start to shift from the top bunk.  The bed shifts as he sits up, throws his legs over the side of the top bunk.

Heecheon closes his eyes when Yoondong makes it down, holds in his breath when he turns to look into the bottom bunk.

“Time to get up,” he says, Heecheon feels Inhaeng shift, the way his voice vibrates in his chest.

“Ok,” Inhaeng says slowly, “we’ll get up soon.”

The door opens and closes gently.  Heecheon opens his eyes again, eyes meeting with Inhaeng’s again before the arms around him retreat, legs untangling.

Inhaeng sits up, there isn’t much noise but the sound of Younghoon already being loud, movements in the kitchen.

He startles when there’s a kiss pressing warmly against his cheek.  The warmness of a blush rises up his neck to the tip of his ears.

“Wake up,” Inhaeng smiles as he pulls back, gaze fond.

Something inside reacts unexpectedly to the feeling, it rushes under his skin.

He closes his eyes, holds in his breath until Inhaeng’s weight lifts off the bed, the draft his body had been holding off getting under the covers.

He shivers with the morning air. A sigh leaves his lips when a hand pushes through his hair, a warm palm cupping the side of his face, thumb pressing the corner of his mouth.

“Get up before it's too late to shower.”

-

He ends up shoved against the window. They all crowd into the van, quiet with tiredness, shivering with the coldness still lingering in the morning.

Inhaeng ends up in the seat in front of his. Heecheon falls asleep with Sungho next to him, the cold surface of the window urging him to miss Inhaeng's warmth.

He tells himself to get over it, he doesn't need Inhaeng in order to sleep.

His body jerks with the turns and stops of traffic, startling him from sleep way more often than he can consider pleasant. Heecheon so desperately wishes Inhaeng was holding him.

-

He must have fallen asleep while getting his makeup done, he’s a little lost when he wakes up and he’s in another room, empty except for the table he’s slumped over.  The blazer covering his shoulders is bigger than the one he’s meant to wear.  Heecheon burrows into the warmth it provides picking up the scent of Inhaeng’s cologne.

He’s still a bit disoriented when the door opens, the soft click of the closing door making him look up as Inhaeng walks in.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Inhaeng smiles, walking forward, “that’s good we’re almost up...was coming to wake you up.”

Heecheon takes in the softness that edges Inhaeng’s voice, the smile that breaks easily over his lips.

“Thanks,” he says, “here.”

He pushes the blazer across the table, standing up when Inhaeng’s hand goes to grab it.  He wants to walk away before Inhaeng’s attention is back on him, but his body goes easily into Inhaeng’s one arm embrace, relaxing when both hands go to wrap around him.

“Are you ok?” Inhaeng asks, “are you feeling sick?”

Heecheon nods, sighs, “I’m tired.”

-

He doesn’t linger in the living room.

Younghoon walks into their room bare faced and so tired looking.

“Heecheonnie,” he says, “I missed you yesterday.”

Heecheon turns to face the wall, throws the covers over his head.

“He’s really tired,” Jaeyong says, Heecheon can’t believe how quiet his voice is, “leave him alone for a while.”

The lights are on for a while, Heecheon can’t bother to look back and see what’s taking the other two so long to go to sleep.  It’s mostly quiet until there’s a knock on the door, Younghoon getting up to see who it is.

“Can I speak to Heecheon?” Inhaeng’s voice is a little uncertain.  Heecheon closes his eyes again, holds his breath. The air under the covers is too hot, sweat starts to form over his temples.

“He’s sleeping,” Younghoon says, “I don’t think you should wake him up.”

“He doesn’t feel good,” Jaeyong adds, “he’s been acting like this all day.”

“Yeah,” Inhaeng says, “I’ve noticed.”

-

Nothing is ever complicated when it comes to Inhaeng.  Heecheon has been around him long enough to pick up on the simple nature of the other.  Just like everything Inhaeng, it’s not hard to figure out nor is it kept away.

Heecheon indulges in private thoughts and secrets.

He feels comfort in his solitude.

These feelings, the infatuation he’s grown for Inhaeng, don’t go well with him.  Inhaeng is so willing towards him, Heecheon can’t figure out why and it’s enough to drive him into a restless mood.  He’s stuck between wanting Inhaeng around him and wanting to be alone.

No one has bothered to ask him what’s wrong.  He goes into bouts of silences and grimaces so easily that the members expect him to be this moody at this point.

But in between putting on smiles for performances and having to do way too much in too little time, he can’t miss the looks Inhaeng gives him.  Questioning glances, arms always ready to reach for him, body always turning to him.

With how open Inhaeng is, Heecheon can’t figure him out.

-

He still finds himself lingering in the living room, blankly staring at the kitchen as the rest of the members go to their rooms and sleep.

There’s a cup of water hovering halfway to his mouth, bare feet tapping idly against the floor.

“Come here,” Sungho calls from the couch, voice quiet, “it’s kinda freaky with you just standing there.”

Heecheon moves slowly, watching as Sungho makes room on the couch, pulling up his covers.  Heecheon doesn’t talk as she pushes Sungho around, making himself curl around the smaller body of the oldest, laughing a little when Sungho huffs in irritation.

“Now that you’re comfortable,” Sungho says, voice stern, “tell me what’s going on.”

Heecheon knows he hasn’t done anything to gather attention, even in his Inhaeng dilemma he’s been acting normally.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Inhaeng talked to me,” Sungho starts talking again, “so you can’t just not say anything.”

Of course.

Inhaeng and his open expression.  It only makes sense that Inhaeng would go to Sungho of all people.

Heecheon turns to look at Sungho, his movement is too hasty, bumping their foreheads together into a painful clash.

“Ah,” Sungho hisses, hand going up to rub at the bruising skin, “you don’t have to kill me, I just want to talk.”

“Hyung,” Heecheon whines, trying to roll his eyes but they squint in pain, tearing at the corners.

“Heecheon,” Sungho says, hand dropping, “what are you doing with Inhaeng?”

“Nothing,” Heecheon says, voice starting to dip with his forming pout.

The thing about Sungho is that it always feels like Heecheon is an annoying kid and Sungho is too knowing.

Sungho hums at his answer, face softening in the way it always does when Heecheon goes to him for comfort.

“Inhaeng said you two kissed,” Sungho says, “to be honest I thought you and Inhaeng happening was too strange.”

Heecheon makes a sound, strained from his throat.

“But Inhaeng is a terrible liar,” Sungho sighs, “so why are you calling him nothing.”

Heecheon closes his eyes.

“Are you going to yell at me?” Heecheon mumbles, voice small.

Sungho moves back a little, holding on to Heecheon’s arms to avoid falling off, “no,” he sighs, “just want to know why you and Inhaeng are being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Heecheon whispers, “I just don’t know what to do.”

At this point Sungho’s laugh is too loud, Heecheon’s hand goes up to cover his mouth, wincing when Sungho his palm.

“Shut up,” Heecheon whines, “you’ll wake them up.”

“I’m sorry,” Sungho wheezes, “but this is Inhaeng,” he takes a deep breath, “as in read me like an open book Inhaeng.”

“It’s not that easy,” Heecheon grumbles.

“It’s Inhaeng,” Sungho repeats, “it’s literally that easy.”

-

He still hides, finding himself folded into his bunk, under the covers when others walk in.  Getting his makeup done and waiting behind the stage instead of their dressing room, hiding in empty ones when Inhaeng tries to follow.

Heecheon knows Sungho is right, like he always is, but he’s still not ready when he wakes up on a day off and Inhaeng’s wide eyes look at him, still falling a little with sleepiness.

“Sungho says to wake up,” he says, offering a smile, “he said you can’t sleep all day.”

Heecheon turns away, taking the covers with him, completely wanting to avoid the other.

He doesn’t hear the door close, or Inhaeng moving away.  He holds his breath.

“You know,” Inhaeng’s voice has gone into a soft whisper, “I really like you,” he pauses, “and I thought you liked me too.”

He wants to respond but can’t figure out how.

“I know you don’t like it...when Younghoon or Jaeyong act interested in you,” a hand curls around his shoulder, “or when anyone acts interested in you but I can’t help it.”

Heecheon lets himself be turned over, even with how gentle Inhaeng is with his movements, holding back his strength.

Their eyes lock together, they can hear the sounds of the others outside.  The clock ticking.

There's a lot of things he wants to say, a lot of ways he's thought of confessing. Of letting himself finally have Inhaeng's affection. But with the way Inhaeng's gaze has gone hopefuly, the way he bites his lip nervously, the way he seems to be holding his breath, waiting for anything. Heecheon lets it all sink in.

And then Heecheon finally knows what to say.

“I like you too.”

Inhaeng’s smile breaks out slowly, turning wide as Heecheon sits up, curled uncomfortably, offering his own tentative smile.

“I wasn’t sure,” Inhaeng confesses and Heecheon can’t help the way he gives Inhaeng a look.

“I let you kiss me,” he says, “you’re the only one who has.”

Inhaeng’s cheeks flare up, eyes lowering.

“You were my first kiss,” Heecheon says, “I...I know I wasn’t yours.”

Inhaeng looks up quickly, “but you were my favorite.”

Heecheon can feel his own cheeks heating up, blush rising to his ears.

They don’t say anything after that.  Inhaeng coaxes him out of bed, places a shy kiss to his cheek.  Heecheon tries to look unfazed, as their hands link together and Inhaeng pulls him towards the kitchen.

When Inhaeng smiles at him, from across the table, eyes fond, pink high on his cheeks, Heecheon wonders if this is really what he’s been missing.

As butterflies burst around his rib cage, brushing along his heart in a fuzzy feeling, he thinks he never wants to miss this feeling again.