A/N: The title is from the line “Two shadows end up becoming one” in Wooseok’s Red Moon. It's also supposed to reflect Wooseok coming to terms with being a soloist, becoming one rather than one of X1 a group.

Wooseok smiles as he sees the good luck! hwaiting 💪 text from one of his drama co-stars. They’ve been very supportive of him and he’s grateful for it, and yet he can’t help but think of another group of people whose absences he feels like a physical pain. Like a phantom limb; even if it’s not there, it throbs in remembrance of what you once had.

It’s ironic, really. It’s not like he’s never thought about having a solo debut. Far from that, it’s always been one of his dreams, or rather, goals. And it’s not that he’s not happy now that he’s realized it, it’s not that he’s not grateful, it’s just… It’s not the same.

He has backup dancers and coordi noonas and makeup stylists bustling around him, he has fans and friends and family rooting for him, but he doesn’t have them. He’s used to being a we and now he’s just an I. An I taken away from X. Everything reduced to ex. And it… It hurts.

Surreptitiously, Wooseok brings a hand to the corners of his eyes, but his fingers come away dry. He fixes his hair in the mirror and gives a smile.

It looks convincing.

When he first sees Victon passing by backstage, he only has time to give them a quick smile. There are cameras on them, so he doesn’t let his eyes linger overly long on Seungwoo, but he doesn’t miss the brief but soft look Seungwoo gives him from under his bangs. The warmth in his gaze gives an extra burst of energy to Wooseok, sends a surge of strength to his lead-lined legs.

Usually, he takes styling time as a chance to close his eyes and rest for a bit, if not doze off, when he’s waiting for the other members get their hair and makeup done. He’s always been a member of a large group so it takes quite a bit of time. Now, however, he’s on his own and it feels almost impossibly fast as the stylist puts some finishing touches and pronounces him good to go.

“Thank you,” he says politely.

“It’s my pleasure,” she says affably. “If everyone were as handsome as you, my job would be a lot easier.”

He chuckles. “You flatter me, noona.”

“Nonsense,” she says briskly. “Do you know how many idols I work with? There’s no shortage of pretty faces coming through here but yours is one of the prettiest. Now, go on and delight everyone with that pretty face.”

That’s what he’s here to do, after all. He was (is?) the visual of both his groups, a pretty face and, sometimes he feared, not much more than that. A pretty face doesn’t mean much in an industry saturated with them, unless you’re one of the very top visuals, and Wooseok is not arrogant enough to think he counts as one of them.

He doesn’t want to be known for his face, anyway. He knows he’s lucky to be reasonably attractive, but he wants to attract fans for more reasons than his appearance. He had been so happy to be allowed to contribute to the production of his album, to put more than just his voice into the songs, to put his words, his thoughts, his emotions. To put pieces of him. Kim Wooseok the person, not just Wooseok The Idol.

He hopes that the people who listen to his album can hear those pieces.

When the knock on his door comes, Wooseok feels both like he had been expecting it all along and completely taken off guard. Either way, he opens the door and his mouth pulls helplessly into a smile.

Seungwoo had removed most of his makeup, and he looks younger like this, barer. Less eyeliner and foundation between them. Less Seungwoo and Wooseok, and more Han Seungwoo and Kim Wooseok.

“Wooseok,” he says warmly, and the door has barely closed behind him when he pulls Wooseok into his arms.

Wooseok doesn’t even let himself feel embarrassed as he practically melts into Seungwoo’s arms, burying his face against the crook of Seungwoo’s neck and reacquainting himself with the feel of him. It’s been so long.

He doesn’t realize he’s said those words out loud until Seungwoo’s arms tighten around him and he says, “I know.” He lifts a hand to run it through Wooseok’s hair; he always likes to do that, and Wooseok would that he treats Wooseok like a cat. He doesn’t want to admit how much he likes it, but he knows Seungwoo knows anyway. “I’ve been thinking about seeing you ever since they told us about the comeback.”

“Us,” Wooseok repeats. “You mean Victon.”

Unbidden, something close to bitter slips into his voice, and Seungwoo looks at him in a way that’s a little too knowing.

“Yes, Victon.” Seungwoo hesitates. “Wooseok. Are you—”

“I’m not jealous,” Wooseok says quickly. “I mean, that you have Victon, or that they have you. I’m happy for you. Really.”

And he is. How could he not be? He knows that Seungwoo loves Victon and, more than that, feels responsible for them. That he had felt guilty for making it into X1, for leaving behind his kids, as he called them. Seungwoo has always been a far greater leader than he gives himself credit for.

“I know you are,” Seungwoo says, “but you can be happy for me but still…” He trails off. “I worry, sometimes, that you’re lonely, Wooseokie. Are you lonely?”

Of course I am, Wooseok thinks, but all he says is, “I think we’re all a little lonely, even when we’re surrounded by people. And I mean, I am. I may be promoting as a soloist but I have a lot of people around me.” He only realizes how defensive he sounds when Seungwoo’s eyes go soft and concerned, and he hangs his head, surrendering. “But none of them are you,” he lets himself admit. “I wish you were here, hyung. You and the other members.”

“I know,” Seungwoo says softly. “I wish that too.”

Wooseok blinks several times in rapid succession. His lashes feel heavy. “I know I’m being ungrateful. It’s just—”

“You’re not being ungrateful,” Seungwoo interrupts. “Wooseok, you’ve never been ungrateful or unappreciative. Only the opposite.”

“It’s too bad that… That we don’t always appreciate what we have enough when we have it.” Wooseok keeps his eyes on his lap as he says this, his voice almost fading away at the end.

“It’s too bad,” Seungwoo agrees, and his voice hitches. Wooseok’s eyes dart to him, alarmed, but Seungwoo’s eyes are dry, his expression steady. He has to be the pillar, of course, the foundation that holds everyone together.

Wooseok reaches his hand over, palm up, and Seungwoo’s hand slides into his with the surety of a well-practiced routine. “Are you ever lonely, hyung?”

“I am at times,” Seungwoo admits. “I know I shouldn’t be, because I’m never alone, but you’re right, we can feel lonely even when surrounded by people. But they’re not just ‘people,’ you know? They’re my members. My kids. I know they worry about me, that I’m pushing myself too hard, but.”

Wooseok smiles a little. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t push yourself too hard.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Seungwoo says, his mouth quirking up, and Wooseok tightens his hold on Seungwoo’s hand. “I miss Byungchan,” he suddenly says. “I’m glad, of course, that he’s taking time to recover, but it’s not the same without him. Not just because there’s only six of us now but because…”

“He’s the only one in the group who knows what it’s like,” Wooseok finishes.

“Yes,” Seungwoo says. “You always know what I’m thinking, Wooseok.” He his thumb over Wooseok’s knuckles, absently, like he doesn’t even register he’s doing it.

“I feel the same way. I miss Jinhyuk.” Wooseok lets out a dry chuckle. “Except we have a group to go back to but we’re not allowed to. We’re not even supposed to acknowledge their existence.”

“Wooseok,” Seungwoo says softly.

Wooseok swallows. “It’s—not fair,” he says lamely.

“It’s not,” Seungwoo says, and there’s a world of pain in his voice. He doesn’t follow up with any hollow reassurances, and Wooseok is glad because they wouldn’t do anything, anyway. It’s enough to know that there’s someone who understands, who has been through the same things as him and come out stronger for it. When he feels lost or scared or unsure, he knows he can look to Seungwoo. It’s not that Seungwoo has all the answers, but Seungwoo has always been there for him, first as a friend and then a leader and then a lover. Wooseok is so lucky to have him.

“Thank you, hyung,” he murmurs.

Seungwoo gives him a surprised look. “For what? Not having anything useful to say?”

Wooseok smiles a little. “I don’t expect you to give me magical words of wisdom that’ll fix all my problems. That’s impossible. Just—thank you for being here for me. There for me?” His face scrunches up. “Anyway, thank you.”

Seungwoo laughs and his hair again. Wooseok fights back a shiver. “You never need to thank me for that,” he says, “and if you do then I need to thank you too.”

“Thank me by not treating me like your cat,” Wooseok says, batting Seungwoo’s hand away even though he rather likes it where it is.

Seungwoo grins. “But you’d make an adorable cat, Wooseokie. Did you see the face you made just now? I’ve seen kittens make faces just like that.”

“Have you seen cats make faces like this?” Wooseok says, scowling at him.

“Yes,” Seungwoo says with a straight face. “Exactly like that.”

“Hyung,” Wooseok says, and somehow he’s whining in the way only Seungwoo ever brings out of him, and Seungwoo only laughs and cards a hand through his hair again.

And when Seungwoo pulls him closer, Wooseok burrows into his side.