Wooseok has moments, sometimes, of staring into space, but it doesn’t seem like he’s zoning out so much as deep in thought, absorbed in musing or reminiscing. Yohan always feels like he’s intruding on something when he sees Wooseok in one of those moments, like he interrupted some private occasion, but at the same time he can’t pull his eyes away.

Wooseok looks different when his face is in repose. He looks—colder, more remote, like the statue of some forgotten prince once worshipped. He has a certain aura about him, one that simultaneously draws you in and makes you feel like you can’t get too close. Yohan understands why some people think that he’s standoffish, but he’s really not anything like that once you get to know him.

The cold resting expression crumbles when he laughs, giving way to something so bright Yohan wants to tuck it into his pocket for later, a gem to run his fingers over until the sparkling edges have softened. And that’s not to mention his smile, not his smouldering smirk or extra-wattage grin for the cameras, but his soft smile, the one that only makes an appearance once in a while. Yohan treasures those occasions, and he wonders if he’s deluding himself when he thinks that they happen more often when it’s just the two of them.

He worried, before, irrationally and briefly, that the ranking would drive a wedge between them, create a rift. He knows that Wooseok isn’t that petty or obsessed with a number, but he’s just—he can’t bear the thought of Wooseok being distant with him. Wooseok would never go as far as outright ignore him or treat him harshly, but what if he won’t lean against Yohan when he laughs anymore, or feed Yohan chicken feet that he patiently deboned, or call him “Yohannie” in that affectionate way? What if Wooseok treats him just like any other friend?

Then again, that’s all they are, right? Friends.

And when Yohan realizes that he’s not satisfied with that, that it’s not enough… Well. He’s in trouble.

“So,” Hangyul says apropos of nothing one day. “When are you going to make a move on Wooseok hyung?”

“W-what? What do you mean by that?” Yohan splutters. “Who said I was going to make a move?”

Hangyul has a triumphant look in his eyes. “So you do like him.”

Yohan glares. “You tricked me.”

“I didn’t trick you into liking him, just admitting it. And you should really admit it. At least to yourself.”

“You mean, you don’t care?” Yohan asks hesitantly.

“Well, I care if it’s making you miserable, and it clearly is, but I’m not against it, if that’s what you mean.” Hangyul’s expression softens. “Yohan, you’re my friend, and Wooseok hyung is too. I want you to be happy, both of you.”

Yohan swallows. “I want that too. I want him to be happy.” He wants more than that, he wants to be the reason for Wooseok’s happiness, the cause of that smile. He loves being Wooseok’s friend and group member and dongsaeng but he wants more than that.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Hangyul says. “Go get him, tiger.”

“You are actually the worst,” Yohan groans. “Who says that?”

But secretly, he’s grateful for Hangyul’s encouragement and support, just maybe not worded like that.

Yohan watches as Wooseok and Seungwoo talk about something in low, intimate tones, heads bent together, Wooseok reaching out and touching Seungwoo’s knee at one point. Yohan is grateful they’re so absorbed in each other they don’t see him staring, because god knows what his expression is like right now.

“Yohan,” comes a voice beside him, and he almost jumps. Seungyoun is looking at him with an expression that’s concerned and just a little too knowing. “You okay?”

He clears his throat. “Y-yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Seungyoun gives him a narrow-eyed, considering gaze for a second, and then his expression relaxes into something more casual. “Have you seen Hangyul? He borrowed my shirt and said he’d give it back but it’s been a week.”

“You should probably give up on that shirt.”

“And you should probably give up on acting. You’re so bad at it.”

“What?”

“What you’re thinking is written all over your face. You don’t have to be like that, they’re just friends.”

Yohan is too tired to pretend he doesn’t know what Seungyoun is talking about. “If I were Wooseok hyung, I’d probably like Seungwoo hyung too.”

“But he doesn’t like Seungwoo hyung. He likes you.”

Yohan scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yohan.” Seungyoun claps him on the shoulder. “Haven’t you noticed the way Wooseok lights up around you? Trust me, he doesn’t do that around everyone.”

Yohan can’t help the way his eyes are drawn to Wooseok, like a magnet to a pole. As if sensing Yohan’s gaze on him, Wooseok looks over and catches his eye. He smiles. That smile, the soft one, boyish and sweet and oh god, Seungyoun is right, he’s a horrible actor and he’ll definitely give everything away if Wooseok keeps smiling at him like that.

Yohan jerks his eyes away. Seungyoun sighs and looks like he wants to say something about how pathetic Yohan is being but all he says is, “Want to help me with my new song?”

“Okay,” he says, because he can’t stay here any longer, not with Wooseok so close but forever out of reach. They’re almost at the door when he’s stopped in his tracks by Wooseok’s voice.

“Yohan. Do you have a moment?” Wooseok asks, and Yohan summons his best fake smile.

“Sorry hyung, I promised Seungyoun hyung I would help him with his new song. Is it important?”

“Oh – no.” Wooseok falters. “No, it’s not important. You go ahead.”

“We can talk later. You know where I live,” he adds with an awkward chuckle. Oh god, why is he allowed to talk? If Hangyul were here, Yohan bets he would be doing a face palm.

Wooseok smiles, not that smile but it’s warm and amused and fond and Yohan would normally revel in it a bit but he’s too busy wishing he could sink through the floor. “Yes, somehow I managed to find that out,” he says dryly. “Unless you suddenly decide to move.”

“I’ll let you know if he does,” Seungyoun says, starting to pull Yohan away with the arm slung around his shoulder. “Hey, if you see Hangyul, can you remind him that he owes me a shirt?”

“Sure,” Wooseok says slowly, eyes not leaving them as Seungwoo guides Yohan away like a sheepdog herding a lamb. Yohan carefully avoids eye contact.

Seungyoun gives Yohan thirty seconds once they get into his room before he bursts into laughter. “‘You know where I live’?” he chortles.

“Shut up, hyung,” Yohan mutters.

“Hangyul was right. You really do need help.”

“Hangyul told you about this?!”

“Relax, he didn’t actually say anything, but I just mentioned you and Wooseok while talking about something else, and he rolled his eyes and said something about you needing help and I just pretended I didn’t know what he was talking about but – well, I do.”

“How do you know?”

“I know everything,” Seungyoun says airily. At Yohan’s skeptical expression, he says, “It’s not hard to put two and two together when you look at Wooseok like he’s the greatest thing since fire noodles.”

Yohan’s cheeks warm. “Do I really look at him like that?”

Seungyoun doesn’t even dignify that with a response.

“But…” Yohan swallows. “If I do, shouldn’t he have noticed by now?”

Seungyoun shrugs. “Wooseok is usually pretty smart, but I guess everyone has their moments of oversight, especially when matters of the heart are involved.”

He actually sounds quite wise and philosophical just then, but since he’s Seungyoun, he ruins it two seconds later by bursting into laughter again.

“Hey Yohan, you should really talk to him, since you know where he lives too.”

“Shut up, hyung,” Yohan says again. “I know where you live too.”

“Yeah but I don’t think you want to be acquainted with my bed—” Seungyoun has to duck to avoid the hoodie Yohan throws at his head. “Hey, save that energy for Wooseok!”

Yohan stalks out of the room before he gives in to the urge to kick Seungyoun.

“Are you looking for Wooseok?” Seungwoo asks when he sees Yohan staring at Wooseok’s closed door like a lost puppy.

“Huh?” Yohan whips around. “Oh, yes. I knocked but I don’t think he’s in there.”

“He’s not. He’s in my room.” Yohan’s mouth starts to fall open, and Seungwoo adds, “So are Dongpyo and Minhee and Eunsang and – basically all the kids and Wooseok.”

“Ah.” Yohan nods awkwardly. He and Seungwoo normally get along very well, but he can’t think of a single thing to say right now.

Seungwoo spares him when he asks, “He was looking for you earlier, right?”

“Yeah, I just… I was talking to Seungyoun hyung.” Yohan scratches his head. “But I’ve finished now, so…”

“Right.” Seungwoo looks amused. “Yohan, you know Wooseok is…very fond of you, right?”

“Yes?” It comes out like a question.

“Good. Keep that in mind.” Seungwoo claps Yohan on the shoulder, much like Seungyoun had done before. “Believe in yourself, Yohan. Don’t be afraid of taking a risk.”

“Hyung, you sound like either a fortune cookie or a horoscope right now.”

Seungwoo chuckles. “Okay, I’ll get out of your way. Well actually, come with me for a minute.”

Yohan follows him automatically, used to doing so, and they end up in front of Seungwoo’s room just as the door opens and a familiar figure steps out.

Wooseok’s face brightens when he sees Yohan, who remembers what Seungyoun had said about Wooseok lighting up around him and wonders if there’s some truth to that after all. Then Wooseok turns to Seungwoo and it’s not that his face falls, per se, but his expression definitely isn’t as bright.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just going back to my own room, if there’s enough space for me,” Seungwoo says. “If you guys need to talk or—anything else, just remember we have an early start tomorrow.”

“We have an early start every day, what does hyung mean,” Wooseok says in a confused tone, watching Seungwoo enter his room, and Yohan is more than grateful Wooseok isn’t looking his way at that moment.

Yohan clears his throat. “I think all the candles hyung lights have gotten to him. The scents might have clouded his mind.”

Wooseok laughs. “Then he isn’t going to be happy. Minhee and Eunsang wanted to know what different scented candles would smell like together so they dug out all of hyung’s candles and lit them all. I got a headache being in there and had to come out.”

Now that he mentions it, Yohan does smell some odd mixture of fragrances coming from Seungwoo’s room. It’s not unpleasant, it’s just…overwhelming. He can’t believe he didn’t notice it until now, but then again Wooseok has a way of taking over his senses.

“Yohan?” Wooseok sounds oddly hesitant. “Are you free to talk now?”

“Yeah,” Yohan says, something tensing up in his stomach while oddly something else relaxes, like a pressure valve finally releasing. “Yeah, I am.”

They end up in Wooseok’s room, Yohan lagging a step behind Wooseok the whole way, hesitating at the threshold before crossing it. Wooseok takes a seat on his bed and pats the spot next to him. Yohan can hear Seungyoun’s voice in his head, I don’t think you want to be acquainted with my bed, and he almost wants to dig his fingers into his temples to rid himself of the sound.

“Stupid Seungyoun hyung,” he mutters under his breath.

Wooseok looks bemused. “What?”

“Nothing! I just said, uh, did you change your sheets?”

“No?” Wooseok gives him a strange look. “These are the same sheets I’ve always had.”

“Oh, they’re—nice. Very, um, you.”

“What’s up with you, Yohan?” Wooseok says, now looking like he’s questioning his sanity. “Did Seungyoun’s song blow your mind or something?”

“His what?” Yohan says blankly.

“Seungyoun’s new song. You said you were helping him with it, didn’t you?”

“Oh, right. I was. I mean, I was supposed to, he asked me to help him, but then he was being annoying so I left.” Yohan is grateful that’s all true because he’s a terrible liar and he’s sure he would give something away if he tried to lie.

“Seungyoun, annoying?” Wooseok clutches a hand to his chest in an exaggerated gesture of shock. “No way.”

Yohan grins. “His feelings would be hurt if he were here.”

“He’ll survive,” Wooseok says airily. “Plus, he’s not here, he probably doesn’t even know where I live.”

“Hyung,” Yohan whines. “I don’t know what my brain was doing when I said that. Please don’t bring it up again.”

“Why has your brain been so scrambled today, Yohannie?”

“Because of you!” Yohan blurts out.

Wooseok blinks. “Me?” he says, pointing to himself like Yohan could be talking about someone else, and god he’s so cute, cute and funny and caring and witty and kind and everything Yohan has ever wanted.

“You,” Yohan says, and it comes out like a surrender. “Wooseok hyung.”

“Yes?”

“You’re—” Yohan reaches out, not even knowing what he intends to do, and ends up merely poking Wooseok’s chest, a little off-centre, closer to the left, to his heart. “—Wooseok hyung,” he finishes lamely, unable to conjure more words than that.

“And you’re Yohan,” Wooseok says, and he sounds warm and amused and fond again. “Do you have something to say to me besides my name?”

He has so much to say he might burst, not just with the words but the emotion behind them, the longing, the fear, the affection, all of it twisted into such a thick tangle that he’s left choking on it, rendered mute.

Wooseok seems to take his silence as an answer, as he continues, “Because I have something to say to you.”

Yohan raises his eyes to him, something he’s used to doing even though Wooseok is quite a bit shorter. It’s never stopped him from being someone Yohan looks up to.

“I know it’s been hard on you, these past weeks,” Wooseok says softly. “You’ve always tried to endure everything on your own, and I can’t say too much about that because I do that too. But – you know that you can come to us, right? To me?”

Yohan nods and somehow pushes past the knot to croak. “I know.”

“And I don’t just mean as a hyung.” Wooseok swallows. “Of course I’m – I’m happy to be your hyung, to be your friend, but. I want to be there for you in another capacity as well, if you’d like that too, if you—” He frowns. “Yohan?”

“What do you mean, hyung?” Yohan’s voice sounds strange to his ears, raw and scratchy, but at this point he’s impressed he can even speak.

Yohan can see Wooseok steel himself, gather some of his legendary composure and wrap it around himself. “I like you, Yohan,” he says bluntly. “Not just as a friend, but as—” He swallows again, and Yohan’s eyes trace the curve of his Adam’s apple, fascinated, never having seen Wooseok so nervous. “I like you,” he repeats. “Do you feel—”

“Yes,” Yohan blurts out. “Yes, I feel. I feel all the things. I feel everything. Because of you. For you. Wooseok hyung. I—yes.”

At this point, he might as well just be stringing random words together, his mouth running off like it has a mind of its own, or perhaps a heart of its own, but then Wooseok smiles, that smile, and Yohan knows that Wooseok understands all of it, understands all of him.

“You know, I never really thought that I was eloquent, but I’m really starting to think so,” Wooseok says in a thoughtful voice. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

“Hyung?”

“Yeah?”

“We don’t need to talk now,” Yohan says decisively, and brings his mouth to Wooseok’s before something else idiotic escapes it.

Wooseok laughs, a warm huff of breath against his lips, and then they’re too occupied with putting their mouths to a better use.

“So did you really have a song to talk about with Seungyoun?”

“Yes,” Yohan says. “Well, he said so anyway, but it was really an excuse to get away.”

“To get away from me,” Wooseok says, as if to make sure.

“Well, I was pretty sure everything I was feeling was written all over my face.”

“It was,” Wooseok says, “to an extent. I could tell you were feeling—something, and it looked like how I felt, but I thought maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part.”

“It wasn’t,” Yohan says, and it’s not like Wooseok needs him to tell him that, but Wooseok still smiles at him like he just gave Wooseok some priceless secret knowledge. “Hyung, I—you—yeah.” Once again, he’s left wanting to sink through the floor. Seriously, why is he allowed to talk?

Wooseok laughs. “I—you too. We can put another word between there. One that starts with l.”

Yohan stares at Wooseok, caught between hope and fear. Wooseok had already told him “I” and “you” with an l word between the two, but it’s not the one he’s thinking right now, the one he can feel swelling in his ribcage, beneath his skin, filling him up with its warmth and vastness.

Wooseok bites his lip. “I know I told you I like you earlier, and of course I like you, but I don’t think I can stop at that. Yohan, you—you don’t even know what you do to me.” He breaks off suddenly, exhaling and closing his eyes for a moment, before opening them and locking them on Yohan’s. “I’m consumed by you.”

And because Yohan is a complete idiot who should come with a mute button, he says, “That sounds like I’m having you for dinner or something.”

Wooseok stares at him, and Yohan is already starting to flush furiously when Wooseok grins and says, “You’re welcome to eat me if you want. I hope you’ll let me have a taste of you too.”

Yohan’s face bursts into flames. He can only manage, “Hyung,” in a choked voice, and Wooseok throws his head back and laughs, such a free, open laugh that Yohan can only gape, feeling like he’s watching a sight as elusive as an eclipse, only this one is filled with light rather than darkness.

“God, I love you,” Wooseok says, and he’s still half-laughing as he says so, and it just sounds like an I love you bro but Yohan still freezes.

“W-what?”

Wooseok sobers. “Yohan,” he says very seriously. “I love being beside you through all of this, from the show to now, I love watching you grow, not just as a performer but as a person, I love making you smile and smiling because of you, I love our talks late at night and our jokes early in the morning, I love all of this, but beyond all of that… I love you.” He searches Yohan’s expression, his own transparent and rather fragile. “You know that, right?”

Yohan can’t breathe. It’s one thing for him to know that Wooseok cares for him, that Wooseok is attracted to him, but it’s another to know that Wooseok – that Wooseok—

Wooseok loves him. Wooseok loves him. Wooseok, with the cold resting face that melts into a warm smile when Yohan comes near, with the unapproachable aura that has transformed into an irresistible pull, with the soft open smile that feels like it’s just for Yohan.

Maybe it is.

Yohan says the only word he’s capable of. “Hyung.”

“Yes, Yohannie?” Wooseok says, smiling patiently. He’s always been so patient while Yohan could barely string three words together and was so obvious literally every other member of hyung line knew before him, but in the end he still had to make the first move. He put his heart on the line while Yohan was too busy choking on his.

And Yohan finally manages to say the words reverberating in his. “I love you too.”

(“I really was writing a song though,” Seungyoun says. “It’s about two people who are so obviously, disgustingly in love everyone around them can tell, but somehow they remain clueless.”

“That sound really cliché,” Wooseok says without looking up from his phone, while Yohan avoids everyone’s eyes. “I think there are enough songs like that out there.”

“There are enough stories like that out there too, yet people keep making more,” Seungyoun sighs. “I guess that’s how love works.”

“You sound very disappointed at not experiencing that, Seungyoun,” Seungwoo says dryly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure somebody out there would want you.”

“Somebody really out there,” Wooseok adds, glancing up from his screen to flick a smirk at Seungyoun.

“Hey, I know where you live, Kim Wooseok,” Seungyoun says, and this time Yohan gives in and kicks him. Very lightly, of course, but Seungyoun still winces.

“Hey.” Hangyul walks in and throws something at Seungyoun’s head. “You can stop whining. Here’s your shirt.”

“You didn’t have to throw it at me!” Seungyoun protests. “Everyone’s so cruel to me.” He sulks and sinks down in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“There, there,” Seungwoo says, patting his head. “It comes from love.”

At that word once again making an appearance, Yohan can’t help but glance at Wooseok, who is looking right at him, and in the midst of the crowded living room they exchange a private smile.)

A/N: The line “I—you too. We can put another word between there. One that starts with l.” is inspired by an exchange from Shoot to Kill: by Lirazel.