“Took you long enough.”

Hyukjae almost trips on his own feet and falls face first into the floor.

“For ’s sake,” he says under his breath, his heartbeat running at a frankly concerning speed. He shakes his head to himself and slams his hand on the light switch with less grace than usual, only to reveal the source of those words in all his glory—lying on his bed, calmly, like he didn’t just traumatize a man. “Hyung. Why.”

Yesung straightens his back and sits up, his knees up to his chest. His phone lies abandoned next to him on the mattress, screen on, its dim glowing light almost lost in the much stronger one now filling the room, as if he’d just thrown it aside the second Hyukjae came in.

“I told you I would come,” he says, his head slightly tilted to the side, an innocent look in his eyes. Like, you know—he didn’t just traumatize a man. Hyukjae blinks at him, a wide-eyed gaze on his face that he’s sure is making him seem a little more out of his mind than usual. He did tell him. Hyukjae was also in the middle of pre-recording a performance when Yesung sent that text, so maybe it had slipped his mind. “Yongsun hyung wasn’t happy about being woken up, I’ll tell you that much.”

Hyukjae lets out a chuckle on autopilot. “Kyuhyun?”

“He’s not here,” Yesung says, offering him a shrug and his hand at the same time. Hyukjae reaches out, already several steps closer to the bed, and lets Yesung pull him in. “Maybe he’s spending the night somewhere else.”

“Okay,” Hyukjae says, not all that interested, in the process of holding back a yawn. It’s so late that it’s almost morning, depending on which perspective you’re looking at it from, and Kyuhyun’s a grown man, so he really can’t spare the brain power to think about it. Yesung pulls a bit too hard, and Hyukjae comes crashing down on him, sending them both into the mattress in a sprawled mess of limbs. “Ouch. Hyung.”

“Shut it.” Yesung gently pushes him aside, somehow untangling the disaster, until he manages to have him lying next to him. More or less. Hyukjae’s arm is draped across Yesung’s torso, and his face is hidden between Yesung’s neck and the pillow, so calling it that would sort of be a stretch. And maybe it’s too close for comfort, but they both like it better that way. “You look exhausted.”

“I am,” Hyukjae says, instantly, without giving Yesung the time to add anything else. Yesung laughs at that. It’s a soft one, and it’s nice, and it reverberates through Yesung’s body and into Hyukjae’s chest like a comforting embrace. “I’m fried. I think I almost fell in the shower. My life flashed before my eyes.”

“I heard it,” he whispers, his breath warming up Hyukjae’s cheek. That same warmth catches on, somehow, pooling in Hyukjae’s chest, and he’s so, so glad that Yesung came. “You’re very noisy.”

“And you’re a creep who gave me a heart attack,” Hyukjae shoots back, no real heat behind his words. The gentle touch of fingertips on his scalp draws a brief groan out of him and a giggle out of Yesung. “Do that again.”

Yesung brushes a wild strand of hair off Hyukjae’s forehead. Hyukjae wouldn’t bet on it, especially not when he can’t actually see it, but he’s pretty sure Yesung is smiling.

“Hyukjae-ya,” he says, and that im