“Since 2008, I feel like nothing has changed.”

The corner of Ten’s mouth quirks up when he begins to watch his friend’s broadcast. He’s taken a break from individual practice just in time to catch what will surely be something he can tease Johnny about later on when he returns that night. Ten watches as Johnny stumbles over his words, his own toes curling in secondhand embarrassment.

Johnny mutters something about not being able to express himself properly, and a sliver of Ten’s teeth show in a half smile. It’s something Ten knows about all too well.

“I’m a big fan, and I always will be.” Something in Johnny’s voice changes as he looks away from Yoona, and it takes Ten by surprise. “Thank you....for being you.”

Johnny buries his face in his hands, hides behind his long fingers and chestnut swoop of hair, and suddenly Ten’s stomach’s in knots. Not once has Ten ever seen Johnny so flustered. Nobody has ever had this kind of an effect on Johnny.

After the live broadcast is over, Ten looks for a clip of Johnny’s confession to Yoona. It isn’t difficult to find. The netizens are going crazy over Johnny’s fanboying. The infamous image from a year earlier of Johnny finding a Yoona pillow even resurfaces again. Ten remembers the moment clearly, but back then, Johnny’s obsession with Yoona was something Ten about.

It feels different now. Watching Johnny articulate his devotion to Yoona, and seeing him so self-conscious and vulnerable forces Ten to recognize that Johnny will never look at anyone the same way he looks at her, with that soft adoration. Ten realizes that Johnny will never look at him that way, and he feels something shatter inside of him.

“Thank you….for being you.”

Ten replays the video, and it stings. It stings and then it aches. Ten loses himself in the sound of Johnny’s voice, listening to the words he’ll never hear from Johnny himself. It’s a different kind of pain than bruises and sore muscles. When it’s physical, Ten can focus first on the white hot center of the pain and then the soft, warm edges surrounding it. But this kind of pain….Ten doesn’t even know where it begins.

Jaw clenched, fingernails biting into his palms, Ten lets out a strangled, self-indulgent wail. And then he returns to practice.

The other guys are about as kind as Johnny expected when he returns from the live broadcasting that night, which is to say, not at all. Most of his teammates about, well, just about everything that was captured on camera, as well as some things that occurred off-camera. Such as Johnny’s near-mental breakdown when he found out that he’d be interviewing Yoona, and the nervous wreck he was when it really, truly sunk in that he would be interviewing Im Yoona.

Somehow, dancing for her was less intimidating and embarrassing than telling her how he’s felt about her for all these years, even if it was in English. It's the most forthright Johnny has ever been when it comes to matters of the heart. Even in spite of his clumsiness, Johnny is surprised he managed to choke out his feelings to Yoona at all.

After taking a shower, Johnny finally notices the absence of something—or rather, someone. He wraps a towel around his hips and wipes off the layer of steam on the mirror. In his reflection, Johnny sees that his hair is plastered to his scalp in a decidedly unattractive way. He shakes his head, loosening excess water from his hair and then runs his fingers through his bangs. When Johnny decides that his hair is aesthetically disheveled, he leaves the bathroom to find Ten.

“Still?” Johnny asks when he's informed that Ten still hasn't left the dance studio. It isn't unusual for Ten to practice by himself until unfathomably late, but usually when they're separated for even a few hours there's a ceaseless stream of messages sent between them, constant contact building up until they see each other in person again.

Today though, radio silence. Johnny had expected to find a million messages from Ten after the broadcast wrapped up, but there was nothing.

It's not a big deal, Johnny tells himself, trying to convince himself that he's not disappointed. Because being disappointed would imply that he expected something. He refuses to fret over the fact that his friend is a who probably forgot that Johnny would even be on television tonight. And what was Johnny looking forward to anyways?

It’s strange—when Ten returns to the dorms that night, he discovers that Johnny has gone to sleep already. In some ways, it's a relief. He doesn't have to think about what to say to Johnny, not after watching what made Ten have a minor emotional breakdown.

Still, after spending an entire evening without Johnny, Ten can't shake the unsettling feeling of a blank space where there should something written.

Ten’s relationship with Johnny is the simplest, most natural thing in the world, but at the same time he doesn't understand it at all. Or maybe Ten has finally started to understand what it really is, as opposed to what he wishes it could be.

Ten’s heart jumps to his throat when he sees Johnny the next morning. Ten sits at the dining table, chopsticks halfway between his mouth and a bowl of rice going cold, watching Johnny navigate the kitchen with sleepy clumsiness. Neither of them say a word, and Johnny doesn't even meet Ten’s eyes.

The air is laden with tension that shouldn't be there. Ten doesn't want it to be there, and he's never wanted so desperately to break the silence. Usually he has no trouble doing so, but when Ten casts around in his mind for something to say, he comes up empty again and again. He feels ineffectual, useless, like a singer without a voice.

Johnny looks like he’s had another sleepless night, and Ten drinks in the sight. For some reason, Ten loves Johnny the most when he looks the worst, with tired eyes and a scratchy voice.

Ten’s attention keeps returning to Johnny’s hands—those long, thick fingers with immeasurable strength and delicacy. Ten imagines Johnny’s fingertips dancing across black and ivory piano keys with grace and precision, and then somehow that morphs into the feeling of pressing his lips against Johnny’s warm, strong hands.

In his mind, Ten’s lips move from Johnny’s hands to the hollow of his throat, to his jaw. And then from his jaw, Ten has to only crane his neck a little bit for their mouths to touch, and—Ten stops himself. There's no way this can happen. Feeling hurt about not being the person Johnny adores the most is one thing, but fantasizing about kissing Johnny is something else entirely. Ten has allowed his imagination to get the better of him.

The illusion fractures, and through the shards Ten realizes that Johnny is staring back at him. Those dark, restless eyes are focused solely on Ten, and for an absurd moment Ten wonders if Johnny can read his mind, if he's thinking about the same thing that Ten is. Embarrassed and ashamed, Ten is relieved when the silence is disrupted by a stream of hungry teenage boys straggling into the kitchen.

Ten polishes off the rest of his rice bowl as quickly as he can, leaving the room before anyone can stop him.

If Johnny was suspicious before that Ten has been avoiding him, he’s sure of it now. Practicing late into the night is understandable, leaving quickly after meals is forgivable, but now they’re sharing a hotel room in a foreign country, and it’s five minutes until curfew, and Ten is nowhere to be found.

Johnny calls Ten with the intention of demanding to know where he is, but Ten’s phone starts ringing from inside his suitcase. It's just like Ten to accidentally forget his phone on the one occasion he might be in danger. Or he might not be, Johnny reminds himself. He probably isn't. Johnny trusts Ten enough to hope that he’ll keep himself out of trouble. Ten is probably just being an idiot, as usual.

Two more minutes, and nothing. Johnny groans and turns on the shower and then closes the bathroom door, leaving the light on inside. He sits on the bed and waits for their room to be checked on.

“Ten’s in the shower,” Johnny lies casually when Taeil knocks on the door to make sure that they’re in their rooms.

If it had been Taeyong, he would have gone into the bathroom to make sure that Ten was really inside. But Taeil just nods sleepily and wishes Johnny goodnight before moving onto the next room. God bless Moon Taeil.

Looking back, it probably wasn't the best idea to hide in the hotel lobby bathroom. It’s cold, and lonely, and uncomfortable. He should have found his other bandmates and begged to stay with them instead.

For the past few hours, Ten had wandered the underbelly of the hotel building for as long as possible to avoid being alone with Johnny. Ten hadn’t thought much about the consequences. He just knows that he can't handle the heartache of sharing a room with Johnny while trying to hide his feelings for him. Even at the dorm, it drives Ten crazy every morning when he sees Johnny—his hair flattened on one side and twisted on the other, eyes half shut and his face soft and filled with sleep.

Ten wonders if Johnny gets the same little jolts when he sees him, if Johnny’s heartbeat spikes when he sees Ten’s smile. The more Ten remembers the way Johnny looked when he confessed to Yoona, the more Ten manages to convince himself that Johnny doesn't think about Ten nearly as much as Ten thinks about him. It's all in his head, this imagined romance of his.

In fact, Johnny probably doesn't even think of Ten as a friend. Just someone he works with. But of course that isn't true, Ten suddenly remembers, Johnny isn't like that. He thinks of most of the other guys as friends, they all do. Still, it's just another fear to shove in the dark closet in the back of his mind.

Ten has to face the truth and accept where he really stands. The little wound in his heart has been growing larger and larger over the past few days, but forcing himself to accept his friendship with Johnny should help heal over the hole in his chest. Or at least, he hopes it will.

Just as the agony in his veins begins to settle, Ten hears the creak of the door followed by soft footsteps. Ten goes still as a burst of adrenaline shoots through his system, and his heart jumps to his throat. It has to be past curfew by now. Ten isn't sure what the managers will do if they find out that Ten broke the rules, but anything seems less scary at this point than confronting Johnny.

“Ten?” a voice calls out, and the air evacuates Ten’s lungs. “Are you hiding in the stall? Come out, you're not in trouble.”

The voice is soothing, and Ten finds himself fumbling with the cold metal sliding lock and stepping sheepishly into the open. It isn't their manager or Taeyong, or even Johnny. It's Taeil, and somehow his presence is immensely soothing to Ten.

Taeil gives Ten one of his reserved little smiles with a quick jerk of his hand gesturing for Ten to follow him. They're both quiet on the elevator ride up to the floor where all of the boys are rooming. The silence is a relief to Ten, who was afraid of being questioned and scolded.

Finally Ten breaks the silence and asks, “How did you know I was there?”

“I was doing room checks, and you weren't with Johnny,” Taeil says.

“Oh.”

Fear flits across Ten’s face, and Taeil adds, “Don’t worry, I won't tell the managers.”

“Thanks,” Ten mumbles. “Did Johnny tell you I was missing?”

Taeil shakes his head. “When I stopped by, Johnny was using the shower trick to cover for you. But I know you guys always shower together, so I came to look for you.”

Ten doesn't know whether to be grateful for Taeil trying to find him or embarrassed that their shower habit seems to be a common piece of knowledge among everyone.

They reach Ten and Johnny’s room, and Ten’s stomach is in coils as he reaches into his pocket for his hotel key. Taeil waits for him to swipe in, but Ten pauses at the door.

“Can you let me sleep with you and Mark tonight?”

Taeil shakes his head sadly. “I can’t, sorry. Is there something wrong between you and Johnny?”

Ten hesitates and then says in one breath, “It’s kind of a long story, but I think I’m in love with Johnny and there’s no way he’ll ever feel the same.”

Ten finds himself spilling everything to Taeil as all the feelings he kept imprisoned inside suddenly overflow.

It feels a little better now that all of his fears are out in the open, but now the problem is that Ten can’t stop crying. He lets loose all kinds of personal expression, weeping into Taeil’s shoulder until he feels the firm, warm grip of Taeil’s hand on his back like an anchor.

“The things you're telling me now,” Taeil says patiently, “tell them to Johnny.”

“I can’t!” Ten wails, forgetting to keep his voice hushed.

The door swings open, and Johnny’s standing there in the doorway, eyes wide as he takes in the sight of Ten burying his face in the crook of Taeil’s neck.

“What’s going on?” Johnny asks in bewilderment. Ten refuses to look at him, and Johnny yanks him away from Taeil by the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you? Where the hell have you been?”

“Shh, let’s try to stay calm,” Taeil says gently, sounding truly for once like the oldest hyung. “I think you and Ten have a lot to talk about.”

Ten’s head hangs low as he continues to hide his face from Johnny, but he lets Taeil lead him into the hotel room. And then Taeil is gone and the door swings shut again, and there’s another tense silence thick enough to carve out of the air.

“What are you crying about?” Johnny asks. His voice is gruff, annoyed, but under that brusqueness is concern that almost approaches tenderness.

Ten is in too raw of a state to be in the same room as Johnny, let alone have a heart to heart conversation with him. Gritting his teeth, Ten just bites out, “I’m sorry I can’t be Yoona.”

“What do you mean?” Johnny asks, genuinely confused. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

The hot, familiar ache of tears pangs at Ten once again, and he manages to choke out, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Johnny asks quietly. “Is that what this is all about?”

Close to hysterics again, Ten lets out a laugh startlingly abrasive in texture. It comes out bitter and harsh-sounding.

“Yes, you ing idiot,” Ten says in English before continuing in Korean, “I’m in love with you, Johnny Seo, and I’m sorry but you really can’t expect me to stay sane around you.”

“I really shouldn’t have taught you the f-word,” Johnny murmurs. “All you do is insult me.”

A smile inadvertently lifts the corners of Ten’s lips, and then he schools his face into a scowl again.

“Let’s just pretend this never happened,” Ten mumbles. The initial stinging pain of contact is subsiding, replaced instead by a dull, inconsolable ache.

“Why would I do that?” Johnny asks. “Are you really that clueless?”

Ten goes still, a feeling of dread crawling over him. Hears soft wry laughter and glances up to meet Johnny’s eyes, which are watching him with a careful, venerating look.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” Johnny continues, and Ten feels a familiar spike of annoyance, the kind that makes him wonder again why he’s even friends with this .

Johnny reaches out for Ten’s hand and wraps his long fingers around Ten’s wrist. When Johnny rubs the pad of his thumb over the delicate bones in Ten’s wrist, Ten starts to feel lightheaded, almost like he wants to smile. A tingly special feeling bubbling in Ten’s stomach reaches up to his chest.

“Ten,” Johnny says. His voice goes lower, and he covers his mouth self-consciously with his other hand. “It’s you. Before I even knew you, it was you. It always had to be you.”

For a moment, Ten can hardly comprehend what Johnny has said. And even when it does sink in, Ten still isn’t sure if he can trust his own ears. He doesn’t know if what Johnny says is true, but the words sound so good.

Johnny reaches out to brush his fingertips along Ten’s jawline and down his neck. Fingers glide across Ten’s skin, and where Johnny touches him, he feels a vibration like a violin string. Using both his hands, Johnny kneads the juncture between Ten’s neck and shoulder until he relaxes into his touch.

Ten closes his eyes as the tension leaches out of his shoulders. He bites his lip involuntarily and when he opens his eyes again, he finds Johnny watching him with a hungry look in his eyes. They’re standing so close that Ten is sure that Johnny can hear his heart pounding, ready to burst out of his chest.

He’s almost certain at this point that Johnny wants to kiss him, but not as much as Ten wants to kiss Johnny.

One second, Ten is staring at Johnny’s lips, full and shapely and inviting, and before he knows it, he’s tasting Johnny’s mouth, warm and slick, his breath cool with the taste of mint toothpaste. Johnny’s hands migrate upwards to the nape of Ten’s neck, his fingertips teasing into his hairline before tugging at black strands of hair and pulling out a delicious moan from deep inside Ten’s throat.

Ten starts ing Johnny’s shirt and he slides his hands over the discs in Johnny’s spine, which sends shivers dancing down his limbs at the sensation of Ten’s soft hands against his bare skin. Johnny kisses Ten more fervently, his lower lip between his teeth in his eagerness. Ten cries out breathily and kisses Johnny back harder.

Johnny’s tongue slithers into Ten’s mouth, and it’s like he’s forcing a substance into Ten’s system—it takes only a second for Ten’s body to become addicted.

All Ten can hear is the sound of their lips, and all he can feel is Johnny’s hands on him, sliding across his skin and tangling in his hair. Before he knows it, Johnny is lifting him and hoisting him onto the bed. Ten’s body hits the mattress, his black hair fanning out around his head on the white sheets.

Johnny pulls away from him and takes the sight of Ten’s debauched slick red lips and mussed hair. His head tilts, and he gives half a smile.

“So,” Johnny says, “Do you still want to have XXX with me?”

a/n: thanks for reading! somewhat new to nct fandom, and looking for people to fangirl with! feel free to @ me on twitter (@bespokenboy) and say hi! c: