Heeseok can’t stand it.

The other groups are beginning to leave the practice room, arms thrown over each other, laughs and loud conversations carrying through.

He hovers by the door, looking into the small room Gunhee and the small keyboard have been squeezed into.

Dongsu and Sunghyuk crowd over him, holding wrinkled lyric sheets, folded over and over again out of nervous habit, scribbled over with notes, ideas, divisions of parts.

Heeseok’s own papers are clutched in his hand, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Gunhee mark his own paper, the other two following suit, changing parts, notes, rearranging as Gunhee deems fit.

He considers leaving, suddenly feeling so out of it.  Even in the small room he’s managed to put great distance between himself and the others, has managed to escape time and time again during their aired practice, with the camera crews not so subtly following his attempts.

He knows the tension between them has risen, knows that he has let his emotions built up too quickly in him, pricking under his skin, setting his nerves on a constant unpleasant buzz.  

He’s missed something, he concludes as Dongsu gets up, offering his hand to let Sunghyuk up, watching as their fingers interlock, the soft sleepy smiles they exchange with Gunhee.

“Sleep well,” Dongsu murmurs as he passes by Heeseok, leading Sunghyuk through, Heeseok takes a step to the side.  He can’t offer an answer other than a grunt, gravelly with how little he has talked.  

He’s not sure why he stays there once the other two leave.  Gunhee’s eyes flicker towards him, lower their gaze when he sees Heeseok’s still there.

It’s awkward.  

Heeseok can feel it, the lights start to flicker, the rooms and hallways now empty, people leaving for the dorms, cameras following.

He’s not sure.

Why he’s standing there.  Why he’s not saying anything.  Why Gunhee doesn’t just leave.  Why Gunhee doesn’t push past him.

“You should go to bed,” Gunhee pauses, “hyung.”

Heeseok doesn’t respond, eyes caught in the bright smile Gunhee manages to give.

His eyes are tired, his hair is ruffled, from frustrated fingers running through it.  The bags under his eyes are dark, his skin clammy under the lighting.

He doesn’t say anything and Gunhee’s eyes flicker back to his papers, pen held up for a second before there’s a sigh.

Heeseok watches as he folds the paper, pen left on the floor.  Gunhee has long legs, the lines of his body are long, narrow, broad in his shoulders.

He hunches over as he turns off the keyboard, eyes still wavering.

Heeseok can see the way something changes Gunhee’s face, flickering to uncertainty.  He takes a step forward, fingers subtly putting his folded papers into his pocket.  His jaw sets and Heeseok waits.

“If you want to say something just say it,” Gunhee murmurs, his hair falls over his eyes, unable to meet Heeseok in the eye.

He doesn’t say anything, even if he does want to.  These words boil in his gut, claw up to reach his throat.  These feelings that surge when he looks at Gunhee, when he catches himself trailing his eyes over the shapes of his body, the sweet ring of his voice.

“Hyung,” Gunhee calls again, voice breaking a bit, “I know you...don’t like me,” Gunhee takes a deep breath as if willing himself to push through, “lets just do what we have to do to survive.”

Heeseok finally moves, shifts his weight from foot to foot.  

They’re close enough now, in the small room, Heeseok pushes him.  Gunhee stumbles back, just enough that Heeseok feels the air break between them.

To survive.

He knew, Heeseok knew he wasn’t going to.  

He can’t stand it.  

Looking at Gunhee and knowing that he’ll lose to him.  Looking at Gunhee and seeing how bright, how open he is, how fitting he is to fame, to the light of an idol.

He hates it, hates how he can’t hate him for taking away his one chance.  Hates how these feelings melt and all he feels is the way his stomach drops every time he sees him, how butterflies bursts, fluttering against his insides, his heart burning, stuttering.

He wants it, god he badly wants to step into the spotlight, wants to be loved, wants to sing his entire life.

But Heeseok doesn’t want it as much as Gunhee.

Heeseok doesn’t want it as much as he wants Gunhee.

And he can’t stand it, he hates it.

Hates that Gunhee doesn’t fight him.  

He straightens and still offers a smile, tired but still so dazzling.

“I...won’t push you back,” Gunhee tries to take a step forward, “just let me leave hyung.”

Heeseok hesitates, Gunhee notices, stays still.

“Why won’t you fight back,” Heeseok demands, voice rough, “all you do is smile and laugh but you never fight back.”

Gunhee blinks at him, his shoulders drop, tension gone from them.

“I like you,” Gunhee simply says, “I don’t hate you how you hate me.”

Heeseok takes a step forward.

His voice softens with a tone of sadness, “I know a lot of boys here aren’t here to make friends or...to like people but,” Gunhee pauses, “I’m not like that.”

There’s the faintest of blush rising, dusting the high lines of his cheeks.  Heeseok’s throat goes dry.

He pushes him again, his hand gentle, almost guiding Gunhee to press against the side wall of the practice room.  Gunhee’s mouth opens into a soft gasp.  It stirs something inside Heeseok, it scares him.

The door is open and the light of the room falls over the scaffold into the larger room, casting a line of light through the floor up the wall.

Gunhee is just a bit taller, almost unnoticeable.  

His fingers curl over the soft material of Gunhee’s blue shirt, willing himself, willing himself to take what he wants.

He presses against the hard line of Gunhee’s chest, a meek attempt to keep him in place.  His other hand finds purchase on the smooth surface of the wall.  Gunhee’s eyes flicker to the movement, his hands curling into fists, arms limp at his sides.

His eyes are big, eyelashes curling away.  Heeseok can almost see the stars that shine in them, the entire world that Gunhee holds.

His eyes take into the swell of Gunhee’s lower lip, plump, tempting, lips almost a watermelon pink.

He leans down, presses softly, lips meeting in a fleeting kiss, shy, unsure.

Gunhee’s eyes begin to flutter, Heeseok swallows nervously.

He kisses him again, harder, lips sliding in stilted moments.  Kissing and pulling away.  It burns him up, Heeseok feels the way flames around his ribcage, chest aching with the feeling.  He can’t do this, can’t kiss Gunhee without the fear of burning up, searing his insides.

He settles on these string of kisses, their lips slick against each other, breathing heavy between them when Heeseok pulls away again and again.

Gunhee’s gone pliant under him, between Heeseok and the wall.  He startles when he feels a hand inch under his shirt, long fingers warm, skimming over his skin, grazing over the lines of his ribs, before dipping down again, curling, resting over the jut of Heeseok’s hip.

With his surprise Gunhee surges forward, catching Heeseok by the mouth, ferocious in his energy, his need to keep Heeseok’s mouth on his.

Gunhee presses hard against him, his playful demeanor gone as he finds way into Heeseok’s mouth, tongue sweeping his own, tasting every inch of Heeseok’s mouth, urging him to stay.

Gunhee’s tongue curls over his own, pulling teasingly, their lips have gone slick, his jaw aching, his insides feel like he’s about to explode, nerves raw.

He chokes when Gunhee shifts, pressing closer, a solid thigh rising, pressing against Heeseok’s crotch.

With the heat between them, the softness of Gunhee’s mouth, his thumb rubbing small circles over the warm skin of his hip, he’s hard.

Gunhee presses again, thigh rocking into him.  Heeseok has to pull away, ears feeling hot, blood pumping.

He tries half heartedly, but Gunhee keeps him close, teeth biting into his bottom lip, pulling playfully, challenging.  The look in his eyes makes Heeseok’s hips stutter, riding up against the line of Gunhee’s thigh.

Heeseok pushes him again, pushing away from the other boy.  He breathes heavily, trying to catch his breath, cheeks hot and red.

Things have changed too quickly, Gunhee offers him a bashful gaze, chest rising and falling, cheeks pink, lip swollen and red.  It sends his mind reeling.

“Does hyung like me,” Gunhee asks, voice thick, eyes alluring.

Heeseok can’t do anything but admit, he nods, a small movement for such a big feeling, which how much he does like him.

“Then why...why did we stop…” Gunhee asks softly, blush darkening.

Heeseok can’t do this now, Heeseok can’t do this knowing he’ll leave and more people will fall in love with Gunhee.  But he wants it so bad.

“Not like this,” Heeseok finally says, an excuse, “when things are different.”

Gunhee’s eyes harden for a fraction of a second, and then they’re soft again, hopeful, determined.

“Ok,” he says, “promise?”

Heeseok promises, no matter how bitter it tastes.

-

When they get back to the dorms, the lights are off and the cameras are gone.  Gunhee kisses him one last time, at the corner of his mouth.

Gunhee falls asleep but all Heeseok can feel is the way his lips still burn against his.