woohyun looks at sungyeol when he’s just woken up and bleary, and then a mere two hours later when he’s all made up pretty by various pairs of hands - perfect hair and makeup and clothes, and thinks he’s not sure which one is more real. sungyeol the idiot he knows well; sungyeol the loud, sungyeol the stubborn, sungyeol the passionate, and it’s still surreal to him that that sungyeol as well as sungyeol the beautiful and sungyeol the idol with thousands of fans are all the same person. he thinks he understands why myungsoo is so in love. 

myungsoo is soft, soft, soft - there is no hardness in him at all, even when he’s tired or angry or hurting - but woohyun thinks there is a fire in him that can be mistaken for hardness. he finds it a little more difficult to see myungsoo the way the fans do because myungsoo is a baby, a child, a kitten, a squid, so innocent and so earnest woohyun doesn’t let himself dwell on the bad things and the bad times too much because his heart feels like it wants to burst when he thinks of how easily myungsoo can be shattered. he thinks he understands why sungyeol is so in love.

and himself - he’s on loan, he thinks, on loan to the fans and to the industry and to the world and it’s really not so bad, it really isn’t - not when sungyeol always knows what to say and lets him close the way he doesn’t let anybody else, not when myungsoo always laughs with him and shows his adoration for all to see. woohyun does need to be adored, you see, and he needs to be special. he thinks he understands why he’s so in love.