final
irradiantContrary to popular belief, Jihoon falls in love incredibly easily. He knows it’s ridiculous, finds it completely absurd, because he’s all prickly and stoic and sky-high defenses, and yet the faintest smile or the slightest attention gets his pulse racing double time. Irradiant, his mother used to , when he would flush bright red, warming the tips of his ears and causing his palms to sweat. My little glowing boy.
He blames it on all the time spent indoors, the only light he gets most days from the glare of his computer screen, which makes him the palest creature alive. Blushing practically sets his face ablaze, gets his cheeks glowing, and recently no amount of hiding behind sweater paws and burying his head between his knees can hide the telltale flush from the rest of his bandmates.
He’s embarrassed! Look how red his ears are, Seungkwan cackles. But as Jihoon stares resolutely at the floor, he refuses to correct Seungkwan that it had been less of the way his voice cracked earlier, and more of the way Jisoo had pushed his chin up with a single finger after the laughter had died down, and tipped the contents of a bottle into his mouth with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
Jisoo hadn’t said anything, but the knowing smile he had given Jihoon as he turned away spoke volumes. And it doesn’t just happen around Jisoo either, because Jihoon can feel the prickling heat of affection creeping up his neck when Soonyoung grins at him, or when Jeonghan runs his fingers through his hair, or when Seokmin wraps an arm around him and laughs into his shoulder -
Contrary to popular belief, Jihoon falls in love incredibly easily.
It is a good thing, some days, when Jihoon can channel these heart palpitations into lyrics. Early on in his life as a trainee he had penned down the lyrics to an embarrassing song called Look at Me which went into embarrassing detail on the crush he had been harbouring on one Choi Seungcheol. Back then, he hadn’t thought of affection as something abstract; all of it had been real and raw and incredibly cringe-worthy. In his defense, he had simply been following the advice given by Bumzu when he was just starting out: “Lyrics should always be about real feelings; no one is going to believe a song that doesn’t have real feelings behind it.”
This translated into Jihoon’s first attempt at songwriting. Look at Me wasn’t anything of a chart topper, it was his preferred genre of a slow ballad that had lyrics like I have dreams of you every night and I wish you would smile at me every day and even when you’ve just woken up you’re still the most beautiful person I see.
It was cheesy and old fashion and ridiculous, and thinking about it now makes him feel all kinds of embarrassed. And yet, his sentimentality refuses to let him throw that song away; it’s hidden deep within the bowels of his computer with an extra copy on his hard drive, and everything is secured with a password that he had hidden in one of his favourite books on a certain dog-eared page that he locks away in a padlocked box at the back of his cupboard.
Yes, he has been and always will be a sappy and sentimental piece of ; no, that did not mean that he would ever let anyone find out about it.
And in those early days, that stupid, cursed folder is slowly but surely filled with a ridiculous number of songs dedicated to his crush on Seungcheol (and more recently, his crushes, plural, on his bandmates - Jihoon being a very gay boy stuck in a band filled with incredibly good-looking people), and soon these feelings take shape as the band’s first single: Adore U.
That song had been the last song Jihoon would dedicate to Seungcheol. The whole thing seemed ironic in its own way: their band’s debut song becoming his personal farewell song to his feelings for Seungcheol. This is where his propensity to fall in love becomes something awful, because try as he might he is horrible at hiding how he feels about others, and that had started to put a strain on his and Seungcheol’s friendship. A strain that lasted all the way through the first couple of months of the band’s debut. His nerves were frayed and the added stress of debuting did nothing to quell his bad-temper. Adding his volatile personality to the jealousy that burned in his gut whenever Seungcheol hung out with anyone that wasn’t him did not make for a great combination. It all just built and built and at some point (Jihoon is lying, he remembers the exact moment: the day he’d seen Seungcheol flirting with one of the makeup artists, all boyish charms and lowered lashes) he’d just snapped.
The fight in the dorm that night was brutal, and ended in tears for both Seungcheol and Jihoon. Someone had yelled “You’re a ing ,” and someone else had yelled “You’re a useless piece of ,” and they would have thrown fists in the middle of the living room if it hadn’t been for Soonyoung and Jeonghan pulling them apart. This led to Jihoon hiding out in his studio for three days until Seokmin, ever the peacemaker, had forced his door open and dragged him back to the dorms.
They talked it out that night, and there had been even more tears and confessions that ran far deeper than Jihoon’s one-sided affection, and by the end of the night Jihoon had resolutely put down and aside his feelings for Seungcheol. Seventeen before all else, they had agreed, and Jihoon had resolved that he would move on with quiet determination.
And he had, unfortunately. Because for him moving on meant falling in love with Jeonghan one day when he caught him sweeping his hair out of his eyes. Jihoon could feel the telltale burn of his ears as he turned away, but not before Jeonghan caught him watching and had given him one of the prettiest grins in reply. Pretty U had been Jihoon’s ode to Jeonghan, as well as five other failed songs that went into his treasure chest of feelings. A couple of months later Jihoon knows his crush has run its course and finds himself moving on from Jeonghan by falling straight into Soonyoung (Very Nice and Boom Boom) and then Wonwoo for a few confusing weeks (two songs in his treasure chest) followed by a series of very awful and painfully heartbreaking months for Seokmin, whom he had quietly watched pine after Soonyoung from afar (Don’t Wanna Cry, Habit, and more than ten other heart-wrenching ballads that will never see the light of day).
And Jihoon knows this about himself, knows how to recognise the feelings churning in his chest and the warm flush on the back of his neck. Despite having never dated anyone, he is pretty sure he understands better than most what it feels like to fall in love. Knows about the slow descent into a warmth that fills his ribs and makes his fingers tingle pleasantly, knows about the single moment when the light streaming through the curtains awakens something longing in his chest, knows about the heartbreak of looking at someone who is always looking at someone else.
He knows , more than most he likes to think, which is why the situation he finds himself in is a little strange.
It’s almost dinner time, and Mingyu is wearing a frilly pink apron, humming an off-key tune as he fries something that smells amazing. It’s strange because this has happened countless times: Jihoon sitting on the table and glued to his phone, swinging his legs almost violently (because yes he’s short but he will happily kick anyone who might bring it up) until Seungcheol or Jeonghan or Jisoo or someone who can actually get Jihoon to listen asks him to “Get the hell off the table”. Occasionally, Mingyu turns around with a piece of meat and makes cooing noises to get Jihoon to open his mouth and eat. Jihoon doesn’t look up from his phone and today is no exception, but he can practically feel the grin that stretches across Mingyu’s face when Jihoon makes a distant noise of appreciation.
And there is nothing special about this moment, they’ve been doing this for years. It comes with being roommates and bandmates that spend almost every single minute together. Mingyu always knows when Jihoon is hungry, and is always more than willing to cook something for him, and who is Jihoon to complain? So this situation is nothing new, Jihoon mindlessly scrolling through his phone while Mingyu cooks and occasionally feeds him from the pan.
What is new is the heat that’s started crawling up his neck the longer this goes on. And the moment Mingyu lets out a giggle when Jihoon gets a bit of sauce on the side of his face, Jihoon can literally feel his heart do a flip in his chest and drop straight to the bottom of his stomach. It’s strange because there is no slow and inevitable fall this time, no heart-stopping moment where he’s watching the gold of Mingyu’s skin glow in the midday sun. His eyes haven’t left the screen of his phone and he doesn’t plan to look up any time soon. But Jihoon finds himself, in this single moment, hyper-aware of Mingyu’s every move: counting his breaths absently, listening to the way his socked feet drag across the floor in that unique gait of his, plotting the notes to the off-key melody MIngyu is absentmindedly humming.
Here we go, he thinks, and grimaces as he thinks about the countless nights he’s going to spend churning out lyrics the longer this goes on.
“Does it taste bad,” Mingyu winces, snapping Jihoon out of his reverie. He realises the screen of his phone has gone dark and he’d spent a good 5 minutes staring aimlessly at the kitchen floor.
“What?”
“You made a face when you ate it,” Mingyu replies, and Jihoon can literally feel the pout forming. Goddamn he’s never thought a whining Mingyu is adorable but today? Today he is a weak, weak man.
“Oh no no your food is great!” and even Mingyu looks skeptical at Jihoon’s cheeriness. “I mean, it tastes fine. I’m just thinking about some song I’ve left unfinished in the studio.”
“Our Jihoonie,” Mingyu coos and flies another piece of meat into Jihoon’s mouth before he can tell him off for disrespecting a hyung . “Always working so hard.”
Jihoon knows that his face is practically glowing by now. “Shut the up,” he mumbles, but Mingyu just grins sunnily at him, apparently undeterred by (or more likely completely immune to) Jihoon’s abrasiveness, and turns back to the stove.
“Why is Jihoon hyung blushing?” Minghao asks as he walks into the kitchen, leaning over Mingyu’s shoulder to see what he’s cooking.
“I was just telling him that he shouldn’t work so hard,” comes Mingyu’s reply. Jihoon decides that he’s had enough of the babying (by two younger members no less), so he slides off the table and sticks his tongue out at both Mingyu and Minghao as he leaves. “Jihoon hyung! But you haven’t finished eating - “
“Stop bothering him,” he hears Minghao chastise and he doesn’t stay to hear the rest.
Stupid heart, he thinks as he puts on his shoes with unnecessary force. Stupid heart, stupid brain, stupid stupid stupid -
“You okay?” and Jihoon stops in his tracks, looking up to see Jeonghan, Jisoo and Seungcheol watching him warily.
“I’m good,” is his reply, and his voice comes out weird and high-pitched and squeaky, but he books it down the hall and out of the building, heading straight for the safety of his studio.
His heart is thrumming at a ridiculous pace and he can feel the heat spreading from his neck to the tips of his ears. “Stupid Mingyu and his stupid tallness,” Jihoon grumbles with every step he takes towards his studio. “Who is it gonna be next, stupid Junhui with his stupid girly hair?”
The sky is turning dark, and as Jihoon makes his way to the studio, he takes his time watching his shadow stretch across the pavement. It makes him feel larger than life, in a funny way: head deforming and limbs elongating to the point where he’s barely recognisable. He thinks of how Soonyoung would probably quip that this is some metaphor or another for his propensity to fall in love.
He briefly wonders if it’s karma, for all the affection he is so desperately unwilling to give out. It’s a defense mechanism for him: being small and having the softest roundest face in existence means that people don’t take him as seriously and treat him like a young child all of the time . By the age of 15 he’d learnt how to glare so hard anything in his line of sight immediately turns to ash, and how to extricate himself from every friendly head rub and casual arm-around-shoulder.
He’s snapped out of his musing by his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he squints against the brightness of his screen only to see Mingyu’s name glaring right back at him.
I made extra for you! Hid it in the back of the fridge so that it won’t be stolen. Take care Jihoonie hyung and love you <3 Don’t work too hard!
There is a picture attached, of a plate of japchae hidden behind the junk that fills the communal fridge, and Mingyu’s toothy grin taking up the other half of the screen, eyes squinted into crescents from the force of his smile.
A sudden bone-deep exhaustion hits him, and he stops in the middle of the street and feels the inexplicable urge to cry. Constantly falling in love . There’s nothing fun about the churning in your gut and the butterflies in your chest when all it does is tell the world how ridiculously pathetic you are.
“Pull yourself together Lee Jihoon,” he murmurs to the darkened sky. “Pull yourself to-ing-gether. A stupid crush isn’t going to beat you, you’ve been through worse.”
And in the silence of the street, all Jihoon can think about is how he’s spent his entire life trying to appear larger than life, and in this moment in time, with the street lamps flickering on and under the rapidly darkening sky, is the smallest he’s ever felt.
Time is a strange thing for Jihoon. He feels like 24 hours in a day is far too few when he is on what Soonyoung calls a “creative-puke-moment”, and yet 3 hours can stretch on infinitely when he is struck with a particularly rough bout of writer’s block.
He’s been sitting at his desk for nearly an hour now staring at the blank page of his notebook.
Somehow the words for Mingyu just won’t come to him. They are trapped in some distant part of his brain that refuses to process the thumping in his ribcage and the flush of his ears. It’s getting late, the clock slowly but steadily marching towards the early morning of the next day. Jihoon knows he has been unproductive; ridiculously so. Without the band hurtling towards a comeback the pressure isn’t enough for him to feel the need to produce. It’s like his brain has unanimously decided to take a holiday without informing the rest of his body.
His eyes won’t close for longer than 5 seconds at a time, his fingers keep playing meaningless chords on his keyboard, his feet twists his chair round and round and round until he can’t tell up from down. His gaze keeps shifting, from the darkened screen of his monitor to the framed picture of the band he keeps on his desk to the one stain on his studio ceiling that is a result of an errant burger during a particularly grueling recording session.
The blank page mocks him. He scrawls out a smiling face with X’s for eyes. He thinks about how Mingyu would probably buy a large black shirt with that as a print. Except that Mingyu never gets the size right when he shops online and it’d be too small for his freakishly tall frame. Sooner or later that same shirt will find its way into Jihoon’s closet.
“God I’m so ing ed,” he groans to the ceiling.
The stain glares back at him.
By the time his alarm goes off, signalling that it’s 3 in the morning, Jihoon is no closer to completing his first song for Kim Mingyu, and has broodily concluded that if he were to kill Mingyu everyone would be upset with him and he would have no one that would be willing to help him hide the body. ing hell.
He is still staring at the stain on the ceiling, but now Jihoon thinks he sees how it resembles a puppy instead of existing as an arbitrary blob of grease. Jihoon has half a mind to name it.
“I’m losing my ing mind,” he groans, and presses the heel of his palms into his eyes until stars burst across the black of his vision.
“Creative-constipation?” and Jihoon nearly falls out of his chair, only to find Soonyoung grinning at him from the doorway, sweaty, hair a tousled mess. He shoots Jihoon a slimy wink that Jihoon wrinkles his nose at.
“Stop trying to act cool you ,” but it lacks its usual bite, just comes out tired and resigned. “And stop thinking of disgusting ways to describe our creative process. Normal people usually just call it writer's’ block .”
“But we aren’t normal people,” is Soonyoung’s sunny reply, which is a little too bright and cheery for Jihoon to handle at 3 in the morning.
“Yeah but we should at least try to be.” When Jihoon has pushed everything back in place and picked up his bag, he turns to find Soonyoung watching him with that worried little twist at the corner of his lips.
“You okay?”
Jihoon shrugs. “Never better. It’s great that we don’t have to rush for anything at the moment.” Soonyoung pushes the door open for Jihoon to exit, and then leans against the wall in that way of his and watches as Jihoon locks up for the night. “Just trying to recuperate and, well, find my sound again I guess.”
Soonyoung doesn’t say anything in reply, but Jihoon knows he gets him. Amongst the members Jihoon has always felt that Soonyoung understands him the best because of the roles they play in the band. He’s always thought that if no words were needed between him and Seungcheol, Jihoon and Soonyoung could probably choreograph and produce an entire album without exchanging anything more than scribbled notes on music sheets and formation plans.
“What are you doing up so late at the company?” Jihoon asks once they enter the elevator. “I thought Seokmin wanted to get some late night snacks?”
“Didn’t feel like going out with the rest I guess,” and Jihoon makes a noncommittal sound in response. “What about you? I’ve never known you to turn down late night snacking.”
“Needed some time alone. Wanted to do some writing, but nothing is coming to me.”
“In need of some inspiration?” and it’s coupled with an eyebrow waggle that makes Jihoon roll his eyes.
“Not everything becomes an innuendo just because you make that stupid face when you say it.”
Soonyoung grins in response and the twinkle in his eye is all mischief. “Oh really?” and Jihoon knows from that drawl that it’s going to be a long walk back to the dorm.
By the time they reach the dorm it’s almost 4 in the morning, and they have exchanged increasingly ridiculous statements coupled with eyebrow waggles in an attempt to make the most ridiculous innuendo (“You can be the stop sign to my road.” “What the , Soonyoung that doesn’t even make any sense - ” “You can turn my traffic light green any day baby - ” “Okay that is just outright flirting - ”) and they are both giggling quietly as they sneak into the darkened dorm.
Soonyoung passes his fingers through Jihoon’s hair and although Jihoon swats his hands away and rewards him with a pinch in his side for his efforts, he can’t help but notice how his shoulders are less knotted up and the rock that had been sitting in the centre of his chest the entire night has gotten lighter. The grin that Soonyoung shoots him as he rounds the corner is cheeky in that Soonyoung way of his, and Jihoon is momentarily reminded of why he’d fallen in love with him all those years ago.
“Thanks,” he murmurs under his breath, half-hoping that Soonyoung hadn’t heard him and missed it completely, because god knows that he’ll relentlessly for it in the morning.
He isn’t so lucky. “You’re welcome Jihoonie,” he quips as he pops back up in front of Jihoon. “Good night sleep tight don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he whispers in a rush and squishes Jihoon’s cheeks hard before booking it down the hall so that Jihoon can’t physically harm him again.
“I’ll get you back for that!” he whisper-shouts to the dark corridor, earning him a few “Shhhhh’s!” from members in the various rooms.
His room is dark when he finally gets to it, Mingyu wrapped up in his comforter with his feet awkwardly sticking out the end. Jihoon sighs and goes to drape the extra blanket over Mingyu’s exposed feet, all the while telling himself that it’s just so Mingyu doesn’t spend the whole morning complaining about how his feet are cold again.
In the dark of the room Jihoon can’t make out Mingyu’s features from the other bed, but he can make out the overall shape of him. He’s suddenly struck with how small Mingyu looks curled up like that; he always sleeps like he’s trying to keep all the warmth in. Jihoon is aware that he, on the other hand, is a starfish sleeper that occupies as much space on the bed as he can.
He spreads his limbs out and stares at the ceiling, willing himself to fall asleep. (All he can think about is what it’d be like if they shared a bed, immediately banishing the idea when he finds himself even considering being the little spoon.)
And it is in the darkness of the early morning, with nothing but Mingyu’s soft breathing in the next bed filling the quiet sounds of the room that the first words of Mingyu’s song hit him like a punch to the gut.
Would it be so bad, Jihoon thinks, if you were to come to me?
Mingyu’s voice cracks during a test recording.
Seungcheol is in the booth with Jihoon, and when the crack in Mingyu’s voice happens Jihoon feels the way Seungcheol flinches like it’s a physical thing.
“Let’s do that again,” Jihoon says, dismissing the “Sorry hyung! I’ll do better! ” with a wave of his hand.
He can feel Seungcheol staring at him like he’s grown an extra head.
When Mingyu is finished and has left the recording booth, Seungcheol swings his chair around and pins Jihoon with an accusing glare.
“You’re playing favourites today.”
“No I’m not,” but the heat is creeping up his neck, because yes Jihoon is playing favourites. He’d rather die than admit it however.
“Yes you are,” and Jihoon just busies himself with organising sheet music when Seungcheol narrows his eyes at him. “When my voice cracked earlier you almost exploded in your seat. Now when Mingyu’s voice cracks all you say is ‘ Let’s do it again ’?”
“Mingyu feeds me. Do you?”
That shuts Seungcheol up, but not before one last disbelieving huff. “Let’s just get the rest of the recording over and done with.”
The next day is a rare afternoon that they have off and Jihoon is sprawled across the couch with his head in Junhui’s lap. He can practically feel the way the other boy is holding himself back from pinching his cheeks and calling him adorable. He ignores the obvious squealing that Junhui is working hard to conceal in favour of keeping his surprisingly comfortable pillow lap.
“Hyung,” and he can hear the pout in Mingyu’s voice. When he looks up from his phone, he notices Mingyu is looking at the both of them with a small frown on his face.
“Aww Mingyu! Are you feeling left out?” Junhui cooes, and makes grabby hands at the younger. Jihoon rolls his eyes, but adamantly refuses to move from his comfortable spot even as Mingyu looms over him with sad puppy dog eyes.
“Why are you frowning at me?” he asks, and it comes out defensive, which just makes Mingyu’s sad pout even sadder. “If you want another pillow lap you gotta find someone else, I’ve booked Junhui for the rest of the afternoon.”
“That’s alright Mingyu, I’ve got two legs! So you and Jihoonie can share,” and he pats his other thigh and beckons Mingyu over to lie on the other length of the couch. But Mingyu’s frown just deepens and he doesn’t move, clearly trying to think of the correct words to say as he continues to squint down at Jihoon.
All the staring is making Jihoon’s face heat up, and he can’t help the way his eyes keep moving from Mingyu to Junhui, and then to the ceiling, before looking back at Mingyu again. Mingyu still looks like he’s trying to figure out what to say, and Jihoon can guess that Mingyu’s testing out the words in his head over and over, making the awkward moment drag between them, causing the warmth at the tips of his ears burn even hotter.
“Woozi hyung!” Seokmin announces, bouncing happily into Jihoon’s periphery, before stopping abruptly at the awkward atmosphere in the living room. Grateful for the distraction, Jihoon rolls off the couch and ducks beneath Mingyu’s form, making a beeline for the door.
“We’re going for lunch!” he announces to no one in particular, and grips Seokmin’s sleeve and yanks him out the door when he doesn’t move fast enough.
He speed walks out of the apartment, mind racing a mile a minute as he replays every single moment from the encounter over and over again, wondering what in the world Mingyu had been trying to say. “Hyung,” and he hears Seokmin jog quickly to catch up to him, draping an arm around his shoulders and pinching his ears. “Why are you blushing so hard?”
He dismisses the question with an annoyed huff and storms ahead, leaving Seokmin behind, willing away the red that he’s sure is staining his cheeks.
“Wait but I just want to ask you about this new song I’m working on!”
“Woozi hyung?”
Jihoon’s eyes snap open in an instant, but he refuses to move from where he’s sprawled comfortably under his blankets. The silence lengthens and stretches between them, and for a moment Jihoon is reminded of the strange encounter from the afternoon, the way Mingyu had stared at him so imploringly, words lost on his lips but somehow begging Jihoon to understand. When Mingyu doesn’t follow up with his usual incoherent ramblings (that Jihoon will deny helps him sleep more soundly most nights), he wonders what could be so important that Mingyu is actually waiting for an answer from him for once.
When he finally brings himself to roll over and peek over at Mingyu from beneath his pile of blankets (so sue him, he gets cold easily), he finds Mingyu staring wide-eyed at him from across the room, curled towards him and eyes trained unblinkingly at him.
He lets out a quiet sigh. “Wassit?”
There’s a few beats of quiet, and Jihoon starts to feel his eyes close again before a quiet rustling comes from Mingyu’s side of the room. “I just - Nothing actually. It’s not important. Nevermind I probably won’t say it properly.”
Jihoon forces his eyes open and frowns when he finds Mingyu has somehow managed to curl himself into an even smaller ball than before. “Just say it anyway. If you don’t say anything I won’t be able to even try to understand what you want to say.”
Briefly, he wonders if he’s being too harsh. But just when he’s about to give up and has turned to sprawl out in his usual sleeping position, he hears a quiet creak and feels the frame of his bed shake.
“What the - ”
A head tucks itself under his chin and Mingyu is suddenly and abruptly curled up in his bed, wrapping his freakishly long limbs around Jihoon and hugging him like an overly-affectionate koala.
There isn’t an explanation and Jihoon doesn’t bother to try and ask for one. He’s positive that Mingyu must be able to hear his heart thundering in his ribcage, but he doesn’t make any comment on it. He can feel Mingyu’s stuttered breathing, and Jihoon knows that he’s crying, but chooses not to comment on it either. The two of them just lay like that in silence, until Jihoon’s hand finds its way to Mingyu’s head and he slowly starts running them through the younger boy’s hair.
Mingyu lets out a shaky breath, and somehow Jihoon hears everything that Mingyu doesn’t say in the dark room. Sorry for invading your bed like this , and instead Jihoon feels the way Mingyu’s arm tightens around his waist. I know you don’t like sleeping with others but thank you for letting me stay here anyway , and that’s the hand that finds his and interlaces their fingers together.
But just then, Mingyu shifts and presses his nose into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and for the first time, Jihoon has no idea what Mingyu’s trying to say, has no idea what to read into that action. Even so, his fingers don’t stop combing, and his heart doesn’t stop thundering.
He stays well awake into the early hours of the next day, eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling. And even as Mingyu’s grip on him goes slack and his breathing evens out, Jihoon makes no move to pull away.
Soonyoung is draped over the back of his chair and it’s starting to make Jihoon’s head hurt with how much his seat is shaking. He’d barely gotten three hours of sleep last night, before the manager had come into their room and roused Mingyu for his first schedule of the day, leaving Jihoon feeling cold and bereft in his bed. He’d wanted to go back to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come; everywhere he turned he could smell Mingyu on his sheets, and the longer he lay in bed the more his brain started to go into overdrive about what had happened in the night.
What had Mingyu been trying to say? Why was this happening to him? Why couldn’t he just write his feelings away and move the on so that he wouldn’t be over-analysing every interaction with the overgrown puppy of a human in the future?
He’s snapped out of his thoughts by a particularly loud sigh that rattles his chair and reminds him that his head really ing hurts
“Remind me why you’re here again?” and he prays to whatever god there might be that Soonyoung takes the ing hint and decides to leave him alone.
“To bother you,” is Soonyoung’s reply, and he rests his chin on the top of Jihoon’s head, which does nothing to help the pounding in his head. There’s a beat of silence as Jihoon tries to ignore Soonyoung’s presence in a vague attempt at chasing him away, because by now he knows that ignoring Soonyoung is the best way to get him out of his studio.
Either Soonyoung is being incredibly dense, or Jihoon has lost all his powers of intimidation, because 10 minutes later Soonyoung is still in the studio with his head hanging off the end of the sofa. Just as Jihoon is about to give in and call it a night - he knows he’s not going to get anything done at this rate - Soonyoung’s breathing changes and it stops Jihoon short because he recognises that breath. It sounds like a breath before a storm.
“I need to ask you something.”
Worry starts churning in Jihoon’s gut at those words. If it took Soonyoung all that time to work up the courage to ask, this probably isn’t something stupid, like Soonyoung’s “If you were the leader of a cult what kind of cult do you think it’d be?” Neither is it something work related, because Soonyoung wouldn’t hesitate otherwise. Nevertheless, Jihoon figures that the sooner he answers Soonyoung, the sooner he can get back the solitude of his studio.
He heaves a sigh and turns in his chair. “What’s up?”
“It’s about Mingyu.” Jihoon narrows his eyes in response.
“What about him?”
Soonyoung’s posture gives nothing away, but his eyes flick to Jihoon’s face before going back to staring absently at his fingers. “Your face is already burning and I only said his name.”
Jihoon knows he’s blushing bright red, feels the heat crawling up his neck and prickling the tips of his ears. Curse Soonyoung and his perceptiveness .
“I mean, I thought I noticed something. You spoke up for him the other day when we were teasing him about eating too much.” He’s watching Jihoon carefully, looking at him like a feral animal seconds away from attacking him.
“So?” and Jihoon feels the weight of Soonyoung’s gaze like a physical thing so he turns back to his screen because looking at his computer feels like a safer option. “He’s sensitive about it, and I don’t want to have to deal with him whining in the room at night.”
“It’s not just that though is it?” and the question hangs heavy in the air and for the second time that day, Jihoon feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.
“What are you accusing me of here?”
And without turning around Jihoon can feel the way Soonyoung moves, like he’s reaching out to breach the gap between them as some form of apology. “I’m not accusing you of anything - ”
“Yes you are,” and when Jihoon whips around Soonyoung is sitting up on the sofa, expression unusually serious. It steals the words from Jihoon because there is something knowing about the way Soonyoung’s looking at him.
“I know you Jihoon. This isn’t just nothing.”
“Well then, whatever you think this is, I’ve got it handled and you can off and leave me alone.”
Soonyoung sighs in response and it’s like all the fight leaves his body, filling the empty spaces in his bones with something resigned instead. Jihoon abruptly feels guilty, but hates being picked apart and scrutinised the way Soonyoung is trying to right now, so in lieu of an apology he just starts scribbling nonsense in his notebook. “I just want you to know that I know you’ve sacrificed a lot for the band. And I just - ”
“It’s fine Soonyoung, the band comes first-”
“You’re not listening Jihoon,” and this shuts Jihoon up almost immediately. “I know the band is important. All of us have given up a lot for it. God knows how much we’ve given up. But if by some miracle you can find some happiness here, you deserve to have it.”
Jihoon’s hand is shaking. It’s shaking and it’s shaking and Jihoon doesn’t even realise how tense he is until Soonyoung touches his shoulder and it’s like all the tension snaps out of him in an instant. There are tears prickling the corners of his eyes but he refuses to let them fall out of sheer force of will.
“I can’t do anything Soonyoung. There’s nothing to be done. Just give me a bit of time and everything will be back to normal.” The silence that stretches after is quiet and sad in the way that most things are when Jihoon and Soonyoung talk about the things that could have been.
The squeeze of Soonyoung’s fingers and the final click of the door closing leaves Jihoon slumped in his seat, all the fight drained from him. His phone informs him that it’s 3 in the morning, and tears of frustration cloud Jihoon’s vision.
There’s nothing to be done, that much was true. All Jihoon can do is try his best to get over it. Songs are his cathartic outlet, but the writer’s block that’s been plaguing him when it comes to Mingyu’s song is making it impossible.
“Falling in love ing ,” he groans to the empty room, and he thinks about Mingyu curled up next to him in the early hours of the morning, breath soft against his neck and fingers interlaced with his; he’s not going to be able to sleep at this rate.
So instead of heading home and facing the giant problem that will be sleeping a short distance away from him, he settles himself on the couch and decides that this is where he’s staying for the rest of the night.
The next morning, Mingyu keeps hovering over him as the rest of the house starts waking up, with worried little huffs and an extra portion of rice for breakfast. Jihoon feels guilt sitting somewhere in the pit of his stomach, but can’t bring himself to apologise for not coming back - even if he had tried to sneak back into the dorm before Mingyu woke up. Soonyoung had shot him a knowing look when Mingyu spooned another serving of meat onto his plate, but Jihoon had resolutely kept stuffing his face even though he’d felt his cheeks warming up again.
“Is Woozi hyung okay?” Chan had whispered to Soonyoung not so quietly when Mingyu’s quiet fussing finally causes Jihoon to snap and retreat to his room.
He knows Mingyu is shooting him sad puppy eyes, and he knows Soonyoung’s reply is probably some passive-aggressive jibe at his behavior, but he doesn’t stick around to find out.
Jihoon’s song starts to take actual shape. I want to be your comfort when things get hard he writes, when Mingyu comes home late every Sunday, exhausted from Inkigayo recording. You share a light, keeping me warm he writes, with every smile and little pick-me-up text message Mingyu sends everyday.
You can come to me, at any time. Because Jihoon knows that he’s been acting differently with Mingyu these past few weeks, aloof and awkward and terrified of discovery. His brain is in overdrive with every errant smile sent his way, or whenever Mingyu comes up behind him and drapes his large, overgrown self over Jihoon’s smaller frame, making him feel ridiculously tiny.
And the worst thing is that Mingyu hadn’t actually behaved any differently, it had all been Jihoon: Jihoon being hyper-aware of every moment the words “Woozi hyung” are said by one Kim Mingyu; Jihoon frowning whenever someone picked on one Kim Mingyu; Jihoon being ridiculously indulgent of anything one Kim Mingyu does. It all started with Jihoon and ended with Kim Mingyu, every word and every action and every interaction that took place, and every time Mingyu would turn to him with that eye-crinkling smile and a grin so wide his canines would show, Jihoon would feel his insides turn to complete mush.
With the band going through some downtime, this meant that Jihoon saw more of Mingyu everyday as well, where during crunch time he could usually be found camping out in his studio for days on end trying to work and rework their albums. This led to another development: Jihoon’s lack of rejection to that one night resulted in the both of them squished together on Jihoon’s bed more nights than not. It would always be after dark, and it would always be Mingyu who would creep over, and they would always fell asleep the same way: Mingyu clinging onto Jihoon like his life depended on it.
One night, when they’d both settled in, Mingyu sleepily tells Jihoon that “I’m glad we can spend more time together Jihoonie hyung” before promptly falling asleep, leaving Jihoon to deal with the aftermath. Those simple words shake Jihoon’s entire world, tilting it entirely off its axis, and he spends the rest of the night wide awake, feeling like someone had decided to yank his heart right out of his chest.
You’re getting too attached, he keeps telling himself, even as he writes if it’s you, anything is okay. And he takes to avoiding his room each night, turning his studio couch into a temporary bed. Soonyoung comes by some nights and makes vaguely disapproving noises about his tendency to run away from problems, and Seungcheol, Jeonghan and Jisoo have taken it upon themselves to gang up on him and corner him for answers.
But how can Jihoon give them any answers when he himself isn’t sure about this thing growing in his chest? An entire tree digging its roots into his heart and branching out in his lungs. It makes breathing hard around Mingyu, and it makes something solid sit in his stomach whenever Mingyu looks sad and lost when he catches Jihoon sneaking in early the next morning.
If only my comfort could reach you, that’s all I wish for .
There’s a knock on his studio door, and Jihoon huffs out an angry noise. He isn’t ready to deal with Soonyoung and his cryptic conversations, or Seungcheol and his “I’m so worried about you Jihoon-ah” lectures. Just as he pulls his headphones over his ears and settles in for another day of his infamous cold-shoulder, a quiet “Jihoonie hyung?” stops him from blasting an old song he’s tinkering around with at full volume.
He recognises that voice, a huge downside to being the one working on recording and producing the band’s songs. He can already feel the telltale flush working its way across the back of his neck, and he holds his breath waiting for the person at the door to either continue speaking, or to leave him alone.
“Jihoonie hyung? Sorry to bother you.” He hears the door swing shut with a soft click, and feels the looming presence behind him. “I - uh - I need your help with something.”
It takes Jihoon three seconds before he can find it in himself to turn around. Sitting in his giant chair puts him at a severe height disadvantage, and he ends up looking up to Mingyu who is nervously wringing his hands as he stands in the middle of his studio. It’s strange, because despite being so tall, the way Mingyu is hunched, eyes darting around the room, makes him appear so ridiculously small that Jihoon feels the abrupt urge to offer his lap to Mingyu to curl up on.
Instead, he only lets himself raise an eyebrow in question.
“Uh, uhm, I know you’ve been busy? But I, uh, kind of need some help with something I’m working on? You know how bad I am with words but I need to say something with a song. And you are someone that is really good with words. So do you think, uh, you could help me out? A little? You won’t have to help me more than you have to but I just want to make sure the song says the correct things and sometimes I’m just really stupid and I just don’t say things correctly and -”
Jihoon holds up a hand because he knows that Mingyu would ramble on endlessly if he doesn’t stop him. “Yeah I’ll help you out. Give me the lyrics you have so far and I’ll see what I can do.”
Mingyu’s lyrics are hastily scribbled on a crumpled sheet of paper, letters smeared from how rushed they are. As Jihoon scans the words, he feels his heart stop and then plummet into this stomach.
A love song. Mingyu is asking for his help with a love song.
He’s reading through it for the third time, when Mingyu quietly clears his throat. “Is it really bad?”
“No,” and the way Jihoon shakes his head is probably too fervent. “No not at all. It’s actually pretty good. I think you did well with this.”
“Really?” and the way Mingyu is crouching next to his seat, looking up at him (with eyes that are practically sparkling ) stirs something in Jihoon’s gut.
“Is this for someone?” and Jihoon notices the way a flush spreads across Mingyu’s face, eyes downcast and surprisingly shy. Well me , he thinks, feeling disappointment weigh deep in his gut. But apparently because he’s a masochist, he forces a grin and teases with effort, “Awww, is our Minggu in love?”
Mingyu’s expression turns serious, but the blush is still high on his cheeks and Jihoon just feels more and more sick with each passing second. “I think I am. I really, really like this person. Will you be able to help me?”
Jihoon wants to say no. Jihoon wants to scream and cry and spend a whole afternoon curled up on his couch and away from the world as he thinks about Mingyu and how ing unattainable he is. Jihoon wants to stab his own heart out and ask the universe why he is cursed with errant feelings and too much warmth in his bones.
Instead, because he is Lee-ing-Jihoon, he pastes a smile on his face and grabs a pen. “Yeah I’ll help you out. Just give me a couple of minutes.”
When he turns around an hour later, Mingyu is curled up on the sofa and sound asleep. Jihoon watches him, a feeling that is between fond and despondent warring in his chest. He watches the quiet rise and fall of Mingyu’s chest, lips pursed as he murmurs something in his sleep.
Because he is a weak weak man, Jihoon takes out his phone and snaps a quick photo, immediately feeling guilty after. The picture of Mingyu sleeping on his couch is bittersweet in its own way, and briefly Jihoon wonders: if he’d just been stronger, would he have been able to keep sharing a bed with Mingyu each night? That way he would’ve been able to keep some kind of token memory for these darker days, instead he’s just left with more regrets and a sinking feeling of unrequited love that he has no idea what to do with.
The lyrics Mingyu handed to him earlier crumples under his hand. Jihoon shakes those thoughts from his head and refocuses on the paper in front of him.
Maybe it’s better if you don’t come to me at all, Jihoon thinks, collapsing back into his seat and settling himself in for a nap in his chair. Because I don’t think I’d know how to let you go.
Jihoon wakes up, and finds himself pressed into Mingyu. He hadn’t even remembered moving onto the couch, or what had happened after he’d finally found a comfortable sleeping position on his desk. But he wakes up and Mingyu is curled around him. The warmth is irresistible and Jihoon doesn’t want to leave the couch despite being able to feel a crick in his neck.
The events of yesterday hit him like a bullet however, and he sits up abruptly, waking Mingyu in the process.
“Hyung?” and the sleepy way Mingyu says it stirs something in Jihoon’s chest, something distantly reminiscent of forever , but instead of staying he chooses to book it out of there, hightailing it to the nearest washroom.
He bumps into Soonyoung along the way, who shoots him a worried look, but he speed walks into the first empty stall he finds and slams the door shut. One hand he presses to his thundering heart, chest reverberating with the shock of waking up the way he did; the other hand he wraps around his mouth, because he’s breathing incredibly hard and the sound echoes around the empty washroom.
“Jihoon?” and the washroom isn’t empty. It’s Seungcheol, from the sound of it, and Jihoon sits on the covered toilet bowl and buries his face between his knees, willing the older boy to just leave it .
Instead, the shameless er sticks his face under the divider between the stalls, and Jihoon nearly steps on his face with how hard he startles when he notices the worried eyes of one Choi Seungcheol looking up at him from the toilet floor.
He’s sure he must make quite the sight, red in the face and hyperventilating into his hands.
“You motherer,” he hisses through his teeth, and has half a mind to hit the divider and make him suffer some kind of bodily injury.
Seungcheol’s head vanishes from the ground but it is soon followed by a knock on the door of his stall, and the rattling of the handle. “Let me in Jihoon-ah. Otherwise I’m just gonna wait out here until you come out.”
They come to some kind of standstill, and Jihoon briefly wonders if it would be so bad to stay locked in the toilet stall for the rest of his life. (Yes probably, they would break open the door and forcibly drag him out kicking and screaming.) “ing Christ,” he curses under his breath and decides that the quicker he deals with it, the quicker he can hide out at home.
Seungcheol is perched against the side of the sink, staring at his door like he wants to set it on fire. He doesn’t look amused when Jihoon finally emerges from the stall, hair a mess and probably looking worse for the wear. It isn’t the first time he’s seen that expression on Seungcheol’s face, the downside of knowing him for the better part of a decade, and Jihoon knows that the coming conversation isn’t one that’s going to be a fun one.
“What’s your deal Jihoon? What’s up with you?” and the disappointment in Seungcheol’s voice is a physical thing. “Something’s wrong with you and I know you don’t want to talk about it, but it’s affecting the whole team.”
“There isn’t -”
“- anything to talk about, yeah right,” which is coupled with an eyeroll. “Nice try, you gotta do better than that.”
Jihoon breathes out heavily from his nose, and rubs a tired hand over his eyes. The words are running around his brain, I fall in love too easily or Mingyu is becoming a hugeass problem in my life or Help there’s this pain in my chest and I don’t know what to do with it . Instead he chooses to keep his mouth shut and keep staring at the ground, thinking that it’s way too ing early to deal with this .
“Is it… it’s Mingyu, isn’t it. It’s got something to do with him.”
“ing hell Seungcheol, what’s that supposed to mean,” and he attempts a chuckle that comes out sounding sad and tired.
“You’ve been weird with him these past few weeks.” Seungcheol is watching him warily, and his eyes keep flickering to the door of the washroom like he’s expecting Jihoon to try and make a break for it at any moment. “So what’s up with that? Did he piss you off? Did he do something weird and annoying? You’ve always had a soft spot for the maknaes so unless he’s upset you so badly that it’s unforgivable - “
“No it’s not - it’s not that.”
“Then what the hell is your problem?”
They’re interrupted when the door rattles, but Seungcheol somehow had the foresight to lock it ahead of time. An extended interruption would’ve been nice , but instead Jihoon is stuck here with Seungcheol and his mounting frustration and feelings that are so much bigger than he knows what to do with.
“If you tell me it’s something about him being an annoyance - “
“I’m ing in love with him okay!”
Seungcheol just stares at him, wide-eyed.
“I’m an idiot that went and fell the in love with stupid Kim Mingyu and I don’t know what to do about it.”
The silence that descends afterwards is a tangible weight in the otherwise silent washroom. Jihoon is staring resolutely at the floor and it isn’t until he feels a wetness on his face that he realises he’s crying.
Immediately Seungcheol is in front of him, pulling him into his chest, and for the first time since he’d realised he’s fallen irrevocably in love with Mingyu, Jihoon lets himself cry, hopes the tears will act as some kind of cleanse, wishes that he can sob out his entire heart so he won’t have to deal with these emotions any longer.
They stay there, Jihoon sobbing into Seungcheol’s chest, tears running down his cheeks and nose burning. They stay there, Seungcheol with his arms wrapped around Jihoon and Jihoon with his fingers clenched in the fabric of Seungcheol’s shirt. They stay there as Jihoon curses, not for the first (or last) time, the fact that he falls in love so incredibly easily.
(Mingyu is gone when he gets back, but he’s too exhausted to think straight. Follows Seungcheol who keeps one hand on the back of his neck as he leads him out of the company building and into the waiting company car, fingers running through his hair.
Mingyu isn’t anywhere to be found back in the dorm either, but Jihoon just wants to fall into his bed and sleep the rest of the day away. Soonyoung drops by sometime in the afternoon and Jihoon feels the sheets rustle when he tucks Jihoon in.
Mingyu doesn’t return even when the sky turns dark, but Jihoon doesn’t worry. Can’t bring himself to worry. He just shuts his eyes and hopes for a better tomorrow.)
It takes a week for things to go back to - well not normal, but at least somewhat normal. It takes a week for Mingyu to start showing up in the dorm, and another before he is willing hold a full conversation with Jihoon again. Jihoon knows it’s all on him, it’s all his fault for creating this giant up. So he tries to play it off as him being antisocial as he does occasionally.
The worst part of it all is that this is a repeat of Seungcheol. Jihoon had sworn that his stupid feelings wouldn’t get in the way of his relationship of with the rest of the band, but now it’s creating a rift between him and Mingyu which the rest of the band can’t simply ignore, and leads to most of the younger members tiptoeing around Jihoon, while the older members shoot him varying degrees of disapproving looks.
Soonyoung and Seungcheol seem to have volunteered themselves to be on Jihoon duty, staunchly refusing to let Jihoon be alone (which he is both incredibly annoyed about and also immensely grateful for). Jihoon finds Seungcheol walking him to the company building every morning and Soonyoung walking him back each evening, with the two of them trading off on who ends up eating lunch and dinner with him. He assumes someone is taking care of Mingyu as well, because he catches Wonwoo and Mingyu spending more time together, and Seokmin coming in late with Mingyu some nights.
Mingyu’s lyrics are still on his studio desk. Apart from the notes he’d made on the first evening, he can’t seem to bring himself to look through the lyrics again. (He doesn’t actually need to, the words are burned into his memory and he can’t seem to forget it.) Most evenings are spent thinking about who Mingyu might be writing to. Most days are spent wondering what the person Mingyu is in love with is like: if they’re tall or short, what kind of hair they have, if they’re fashionable the way Mingyu is, if Mingyu takes them out on dates, if Mingyu cooks for them too.
(He wonders if Mingyu would curl around them the way he curls around Jihoon in the evenings, face pressed into their neck, breath soft and even, fingers interlaced.)
Another thing that changes is that Mingyu doesn’t try to crawl into his bed each night anymore. When he finally starts coming home to sleep, he and Jihoon lay silently in their own beds, no words exchanged, and Jihoon tells himself that it doesn’t bother him, although it does, more than he will ever admit. Each night a million words seem to pass between them in a silent haze, and Jihoon closes his eyes and imagines that there is a warmth curled around him. It’s ridiculous because Jihoon is used to sleeping alone, and suddenly all he can think about is how empty and cold his bed feels when he’s the only one in it. He wakes up every morning with his blankets wrapped tight around himself, and an aching emptiness in his heart.
The song he’d written for Mingyu still sits unfinished on his studio workstation, he just hasn’t had the heart to finish it. The lyrics are done and all the chords are there, but Jihoon just can’t bring himself to finish putting everything else together. In a strange way, he doesn’t want the song to be done. Doesn’t want to finish it, doesn’t want it to ever be completed, feels like he can keep working on the song forever .
A part of it is about the feeling of longing, this twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach that he knows is because something’s shifted between him and Mingyu and a larger part of him is terrified that they can never go back to before, with how easy it was between them. A part of it is also about his heart being exhausted. Because Jihoon knows that for him, finishing a song means moving on, means falling in love again. It’s a vicious cycle, the endless repetition of falling in love and falling out of it and on and on, and he’s exhausted at the mere thought of having to go through it again.
But there’s a part of his brain that is unwilling to let go of his feelings for Mingyu. Something that wants him to stay in this state of limbo, between letting go and holding on, until he’s forcibly pushed to one side or the other. All these emotions are driving him more than a little stir-crazy so he finds himself joining Soonyoung in the dance studio more evenings than not. He doesn’t ask any questions, but somehow seems to know what’s going on with Jihoon anyway, and makes vague attempts at conversation when they’re both drenched in sweat and lying on the floor at the end of each rehearsal.
For now, Jihoon decides that he won’t stuff up even further with how things have already played out between him and Mingyu, so he keeps his head down and keeps with his daily schedules and finds comfort in the time he can spend with Seungcheol and Soonyoung instead.
“You can’t keep avoiding him. You can’t hide away forever.”
“I know that Seungcheol hyung. I just - give me some time to figure out what to do.”
“Over thinking this isn’t going to help. Cheol hyung is right, you should just tell him how you feel.”
Jihoon sighs and puts on his best glare. “Who invited you to lunch again Soonyoung?”
He and Seungcheol watch as Soonyoung steals the fries from Jihoon’s plate.
“No one, but I figured since Cheol hyung’s buying I would invite myself along.”
“You er,” Jihoon grumbles, and watches as Soonyoung squawks and flails when he’s hit with a fistful of fries.
Jihoon hears the door of his studio swing open and immediately feels the groan building in his throat.
“I swear to god Soonyoung if you don’t leave me the alone - “
“It’s not Soonyoung hyung. It’s me.”
He tenses in his seat immediately, fingers gripping the side of his desk hard. “Mingyu.”
“Hey hyung.”
He feels ridiculously out of his depth, all awkward finger movements and rapid foot tapping. Suddenly, the thought of taking up Soonyoung’s stupid idea of having him and Seungcheol in his ear to deal with a Mingyu confrontation seems like a great plan, and Jihoon briefly wonders why he hadn’t said yes when Soonyoung had suggested it three days ago.
“Are you busy right now? I can come back later,” and the way Mingyu says it sounds despondent and resigned, like Jihoon has already rejected him and turned him away, and Jihoon isn’t too sure what he can possibly say or do to make it better.
“No, no I’m free right now. What do you need?”
There’s something off-putting about the way Mingyu won’t look him in the eye, how he keeps his head trained on floor, fingers clasped in front of him like he’s a schoolboy being called into the principal’s office. He shuffles nervously from foot to foot, before ducking his head to the side as he mumbles out, “The lyrics from three weeks ago. Do you still have them?”
“O - oh. Right yeah. I do. Have them. Right here.” The sheet of paper is still sitting, visible, on his desk. He picks it up and hands it over to Mingyu, watching the way the younger boy snatches it out of his hands like it’s a cursed object.
Jihoon feels his heart twist in his chest, knowing that Mingyu is probably going to give it to whoever it’s meant for.
“You did pretty good actually. There isn’t much to change.”
“You - you think so hyung?”
And Jihoon can’t help the bittersweet smile that twists the corner of his mouth. “You’ve been getting really good with lyrics Mingyu, don’t sell yourself short.”
Something flickers across Mingyu’s face, something longing, then something serious, and he keeps watching Jihoon as though he is trying to figure something out.
When the silence stretches on unbroken, Jihoon takes that as his cue to turn back towards the computer. Despite how tight his throat feels, Jihoon still manages to tell him the one thing that has been rattling around his brain since Mingyu showed him those lyrics. “Whoever they are, they are incredibly lucky.”
He’s yanked out of his self-pitying when Mingyu forcibly spins the chair around, a determined look on his face and lyrics completely crushed in his fist. “Are they really - do you really think so?”
“Yeah - yeah of course. What’s going on Mingyu-ah - “
“Minggu.”
Jihoon frowns in confusion. “What?”
“I like it when you call me Minggu.”
“Uh - “
“And I like when you tell me that I’ve improved and how you’re always willing to help me with lyrics and how you take care of me when I’m having a bad day and how you always work so hard for the band because you really really love us.”
“Mingyu I don’t - “
Mingyu inhales a breath, breathes in so hard that Jihoon feels the way it rattles his entire person. “It’s you Jihoon hyung. The lyrics, the song? It’s for you.”
To say Jihoon is stunned would be an understatement.
“The person I want to confess to? That’s you.” And there’s a self-deprecating smile that twists his mouth. “And I know you probably don’t feel the same way and I’ve just been - making things awkward and it’s all my fault hyung I’m sorry - “
“Mingyu, Mingyu stop.”
Mingyu looks on the verge of tears, bottom-lip trembling, and desperately swiping at his eyes. Jihoon wordlessly pulls up the song he’d been working on and hits the play. The studio fills with the beginning chords, and they stay there in silence as the song plays out. Jihoon can’t help but watch Mingyu’s face, watches as he listens, really listens to the song, mouth agape and eyes wide. There are nerves in his stomach, and something that he isn’t used to feeling spreading across his chest. He feels like an entire garden of flowers has started to bloom in his ribcage, and he has no idea what to do with this - with this hope that has taken root in his lungs.
As the song dies out Mingyu’s expression has slowly morphed into something hopeful, and he turns to Jihoon with an expectant look on his face. “Is that - hyung is that song for me?”
Jihoon smiles, cheeks bright with how happy he is, ears burning hot, the back of his neck flushed a radiant warmth. And for the first time in forever, all he can think about is how he doesn’t feel like he needs to hide the blush staining his face, or the lovesick grin that’s spreading across his lips. For the first time in forever, Jihoon feels invincible.
That night, Jihoon is the one who crawls into Mingyu’s bed.
“I am not the small spoon,” he whispers into the dark, and the way Mingyu eagerly wraps an arm around Jihoon and pulls him into his chest makes Jihoon feel a little less pathetic for missing this. “I will share a bed with you, but I refuse to be the small spoon.”
“Whatever you say hyung.”
Jihoon knows he’s beaming as he listens to the steady heartbeat of his (his!) boyfriend, their fingers interlaced and Mingyu’s breaths soft against his hair. Can feel the smile that Mingyu’s wearing too, understands the happiness in the palm that is splayed on the small of his back and holding him close , like Mingyu never wants to let go.
(In the morning, Jihoon is woken by Soonyoung screeching “Finally! The two idiots got their together!”. He’s left a drool stain on Mingyu’s shirt and somehow they’d both shifted so that most of Mingyu is dangled precariously off the edge of the bed, but Jihoon decides that he’ll deal with Soonyoung’s noisy and the rest of the world later. For now, he’s going to cuddle the out of his boyfriend and enjoy it.)
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