best of the best (on first class)

[kat_lair]

***

Title: best of the best (on first class)
Author: kat_lair,
Fandom: Stray Kids
Pairing: Kim Seungmin/Yang Jeongin | I.N.
Tags: Mutual Pining, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Pining, Jealousy, Self Confidence, Friends to Lovers, Background Relationships, Power Dynamics
Rating: E
Word count: 19,420

Summary: Jeongin has a problem. The problem is Seungmin’s face.

Author notes:

Listen, we live in the Seungmin fuckboi era now. I don’t make the rules. But I do enforce them.

This fic was obviously inspired by Seungmin’s face in the S-Class MV, which made him a problem for me, like personally. I realise the fic is published now like two albums later but turns out the problem of Seungmin’s face has only increased with every comeback so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Title is obviously from S-Class.

Many thanks to dreamersdare for the beta read and to her and pushkin666 for all the enthusiastic noises they made in my direction during the writing of this.

 

best of the best (on first class) on AO3


Jeongin doesn’t see it until they all watch the final music video.

Okay. That’s not technically true, because he’s probably, definitely must have seen it during the countless rehearsals, concept meetings, the filming itself, but only to the degree of ‘seen’ that his eyes must have registered a visual input. The problem (and yes, it most definitely is a problem, thanks for asking, and no, Jeongin is not happy about it) is that none of that stimuli had been carried all the way to his brain where it would’ve gotten processed into actual information. Because if it had, then the information would have condensed into a thought, maybe even a feeling. Because Jeongin sure as fuck is having thoughts and feelings right now when none existed before. Well. Not about this specific thing.

It is, Jeongin guesses, understandable. He shouldn’t be too hard on himself. There are, after all, mitigating circumstances. Firstly, Jeongin is behind Seungmin for that part of the choreo, and even with the mirrors right there, everyone is too focused on looking at themselves, trying to get their own limbs and faces to do what they need to, to have much attention span left for others. Secondly, yes, Jeongin intellectually knows that the director and the scriptwriters had used words like ‘fierce’ and ‘maybe a little… condescending?’ and ‘meaner, Seugmin-ssi, if you please’, during the MV shoot, but he’d been too busy listening to his own set of instructions to really comprehend what it might all mean. Thirdly, Jeongin has made it a policy not to let himself focus too much on what Seungmin does or doesn’t do because he’s here to make a career in music, not to be a cliché.

Right. Back up. What happens is this: They record an album, which is hard, yet rewarding work, and Jeongin is maybe a little nervous, maybe a lot excited, but there are no actual problems. They plan a comeback and learn new choreos and film several new music videos, and Jeongin is exhausted, both body and mind, but that’s okay, that’s to be expected, it’s not a problem. They have wardrobe fittings and take promo pictures and get primped within an inch of their lives and like every time they move from the ‘studio hermits’ mode to the ‘idols under spotlight’ stage Jeongin is jolted anew over the fact that he works with some ridiculously gorgeous people. It’s… a little jarring, the way it always is, until he gets accustomed again. It’s absolutely not a problem though.

Then, the S-Class music video is ready for the preview, all of them excited as they gather to watch it, and suddenly, suddenly, Jeongin has a problem.

The problem is Seungmin’s face.

For sure, the rest of him too, but specifically his face and what he does with it; the exposed forehead with his hair swept back, the haughty, almost superior expression he affects for the camera, the slightly unhinged head-tilt, the barely there smirk that says ‘I could fuck you up if you wanted me to’ and the thing is, the problem is…

Jeongin wants him to.

This both is and is not new.

That Jeongin wants is familiar, old news. He acknowledged his stupid puppy crush on Seungmin almost immediately after realising what the nervous fluttering in his stomach, the clammy hands and the desperate, embarrassing need to impress meant. He acknowledged it and worked hard at shaping it into an excellent working relationship and a great friendship, and any leftover fluttering or urges to earn an approving nod are things that Jeongin has a firm grasp on.

That Jeongin wants this, however…

Seungmin is handsome. Seungmin is insanely talented and wickedly funny and adorable in a way that lives up to his nickname. He’s goofy and cute and playful about almost everything that isn’t work or his singing. And Jeongin loves that about him, of course he does. But it’s also something that he’s built a certain… immunity against over the years. Out of self-preservation.

But this.

This Seungmin who is openly aggressive in his stance? This Seungmin who sneers, whose arched eyebrow says that he knows he’s ‘the best of the best on first class’ and is finding it amusing watching you try and fail to reach his level? This Seungmin?

Jeongin has no defence against him.

It helps a little that everyone seems to be, if not in the exact same boat as Jeongin, then at least in the same, uh, flotilla? All the members are exclaiming over Seungmin’s segments in the MV, oohing and aahing over how handsome and badass he looks, while Seungmin himself seems… Surprised but quietly pleased. And that too looks good on him.

After the filming, the others are still clapping Seungmin on the shoulder, Jisung fake swooning and Chan gearing up to what seems like an embarrassingly heartfelt speech about his acting skills that Seungmin clearly sees coming if the slightly terrified widening of his eyes is anything to go by. He manages to slap a hand over Chan’s mouth and starts talking about the special effects again, successfully derailing the conversation. Jeongin doesn’t say much at all, certainly nothing to Seungmin directly, because he is still… processing. Or not, his brain mostly just wheeling in place like a loading screen.

This, in hindsight, is a mistake. He should’ve just joined in with the praise when everyone was doing it, when it was expected, natural.

But he didn’t, too busy trying not to stare at Seungmin’s stupidly handsome face, features arranged into a familiar ‘aww shucks’ smile, and reconcile it with the Seungmin in the video.

Three hours later, when they are back in the dorm, Jeongin is still doing that. Okay, well, he is also trying to do some writing and folding his laundry with music on the background, but part of his mind is still stuck on the cocky lift of Seungmin’s chin, the way it looked like he was daring people to…

“Innie?”

Jeongin startles so badly he drops the pile of t-shirts he’d just been taking to the dresser, his head whipping around to find Seungmin leaning on the open doorway.

Well, by the time Jeongin’s turned around, Seungmin is already walking toward him, a surprised look on his face.

“Shit, sorry,” he says, bending to pick up the t-shirts now scattered on the ground. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Jeongin can feel himself blushing, suddenly feeling like he’s sixteen or seventeen again, too clumsy in his own body. “It’s fine,” he says, “It’s fine, hyung. Here, I got them,” quickly crouching down and scooping up his shirts, practically wrenching them out of Seungmin’s hands.

“O-kay…” Seungmin holds up his palms and steps away, eyebrows raised, probably because Jeongin is behaving like a crazy person.

Jeongin stuffs the garments into the drawer without any effort to be neat about it. He knows it’s going to drive him crazy later and he’s probably going to be refolding his shirts in the middle of night when he can’t sleep but that’s a problem for future Jeongin, one that seems refreshingly simple compared to the problem hovering behind him right now.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jeongin says, schooling his expression into something he hopes passes for normal rather than ‘gay panic’ before he turns to face Seungmin again. “What’s up?”

“Oh, just…” Seungmin shifts a little in place, crossing and uncrossing his arms, and Jeongin is once more taken back by the dissonance between the Seungmin in front of him and the Seungmin in the music video, because like, he knows Seungmin is a good actor, hell they all are to a varying degree, but it has to come from somewhere and this…

“Okay,” Seungmin says suddenly, effectively interrupting Jeongin’s increasingly hysterical thoughts. “Tell me honestly. Did you hate it? Was it… stupid?” And now he’s standing stock still, shoulders back, chin tilted up, like he’s squaring for a punch.

Jeongin is lost. “Hate what?”

“The video,” Seungmin says. “Or well, the…” He waves a hand over his face and does a weak approximation of the sneer, and the choreo of his part for that specific section. “You know. The others said it was fine but…”

“I said it was good,” Jeongin protests because he had, he definitely had. Well, he’d made approving noises, he’s sure of that much. “What’s this really about?”

Seungmin narrows his eyes at him for a moment but then relents. “I don’t know, it was just… a bit different from the usual, I guess. And I know what the director said, and everyone but… Does it look stupid? Like I’m pretending to be a cool tough guy or something when everyone knows I’m a nerdy choirboy? Like I’m trying too hard?” He cringes a bit at his own comment, shoulders hunched.

Jeongin stares at him. “You… You played baseball. You’re an idol. In a group that’s smashing all expectations.” The album pre-sale figures had dropped earlier in the week and everyone had gone quiet and wide-eyed. Chan had disappeared into his studio for twelve hours and had come out with red-rimmed eyes that everyone pretended were the result of too much work and too little sleep. The point is…

“I think you moved beyond ‘nerdy choirboy’ years ago, if you ever really were one. Besides,” Jeongin asks, “who says you can’t be both? That’s kind of our schtick, right? Soft and approachable, and then cool as fuck?”

It has the intended effect and Seungmin laughs, his posture opening back up. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, I’m being…” He waves a hand. “I just thought; Innie will tell me like it is even if everyone else is babying me.” He flashes a grin, bright and devastating. Jeongin wishes he could sit down without making it obvious that he was doing it because he was suddenly weak at the knees.

“Hyung,” he says instead, leaning on the dresser heavily, “it was good. You were…” And he doesn’t want to say this. But it’s something Seungmin needs to hear, so. Still, Jeongin definitely cannot say this whilst looking Seungmin in the eye, so he focuses hard on his left ear and blurts out…

“Hot. You were so hot, hyung. You looked… dangerous. And kind of arrogant.” There’s a sharp inhale and Jeongin barrels right over any comments before they appear. “And I know you’re not that. You’re not arrogant.” Dangerous however… Well, Jeongin is not going to comment on that, now or ever. “STAY know you’re not arrogant. That’s part of the appeal, right? The difference, you mentioned, it’s… It’s going to blow everyone away when the video drops. In a good way. Trust me.”

The silence after Jeongin’s outburst is deafening. After counting to ten, Jeongin cautiously flicks his eyes over the rest of Seungmin’s face. It, like the tip of the ear Jeongin had been staring at, is dusted pink. Seungmin looks stunned. But he’s also smiling.

“Okay,” Seungmin says softly. “I trust you. That’s why I asked.” And god fucking dammit, why does he have to be like this? Jeongin resists the urge to rub at his sternum, because his chest honest to god hurts. “So, guess I should just… Keep doing that then?” Seungmin asks, and there’s something… Calculating, in his expression. Like curiosity but with an edge. “For the live performances?”

“Yes,” Jeongin hears himself say, “Absolutely, hyung,” like a goddamn idiot with the self-preservation instincts of a blind lemming.

“Great!” For a moment Seungmin looks like he might go in for a hug, but he must notice the way Jeongin flinches against the dresser like a cornered rat, because he settles for patting him on the arm briefly. “Thanks, Iyen-ah,” he says. “I really mean it.” With that he blessedly departs, leaving Jeongin to suffer in peace.

He guesses this is what shooting yourself in the foot feels like. Or… other parts. Jeongin has a bad feeling that this comeback is going to cause him the kind of full-body damage that he might not recover from.

***

Apparently, Jeongin hadn’t ducked fast enough when Apollo yeeted the gift of prophecy his way because one month and several live stages later, he is, in fact, suffering.

Seungmin has taken Jeongin’s unwitting advice to heart and is doing the Face™ every single time they perform S-class, which, given it’s the title track of their comeback, is a lot. Sometimes several times a day.

The only saving grace is that Jeongin never has to see it live. Silently, he blesses their choreographers and Minho-hyung every time they step on stage, knowing that he will be safely behind Seungmin for the parts where his expression goes haughty and wicked, looking like he owns the place and everyone in it. Probably because, for those moments, he does.

The irony of course is that if Jeongin was a stronger man, he’d never have to see it at all. No one is forcing him to find the videos of their performances on YouTube, to watch Seungmin’s fancam if one is available, to search for shaky audience clips if not. Oh no, this is torture that Jeongin inflicts on himself. He wouldn’t call it entirely voluntary though because it feels like his fingers are working independently of his brain, picking up his phone every night, typing things into the search bar, clicking ‘play’ on a video after video. Then again, it’s probably at least partly because his brain is not doing its job and instead displaying any kind of executive function, it’s mostly just going ‘hrrrr Seungmin-hyung!!’ and this? This slight, borderline, barely counts but guess some would use the word, obsession Jeongin is developing is another problem.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop there.

Jeongin had been right about not just his own suffering, but about their fans’ reaction to the MV and Seungmin’s part in it too. The comments that flood in are full of praise for everyone but Seungmin’s name does seem to feature more than usual. Jeongin doesn’t read them all, because no one has that kind of time and also because he’s learned that on most occasions he does not, in fact, want to know everything their fans say. Still, he’s skimmed enough, eyes snagging on Seungmin’s name, to know that in this he and the STAY seem to be eerily in synch.

Some are relatively tame.

      Calling it now, Seungmin owns the S-Class era.

      Seungmin came to eat and left no crumbs.

Some are funny. Jeongin has taken to screencapping some of the better ones and sharing them on their group chat.

      Seungmin oppa looks like a Korean Lex Luthor, only with hair.

      Always thought they should cast Seungmin in a K-drama, but never thought he’d be the bad guy until now…

      Ngl, loving the amount of teeth this boy is showing, post-braces, even if it’s a sexy sneer. Wait. I meant especially because it’s a sexy sneer.  🥵

Others… Well, let’s just say Jeongin understands them a little too well and will also deny all knowledge of such comments if questioned.

      Hold up girl, a new candidate for the ‘rich chaebol who treats me mean and loves me keen’ just dropped and you’ll never guess who it is…

      If he looked at me like that whilst backing me into a corner, I would not complain.😏💦

      Whoo, someone’s been getting lessons from Chris on how to make people say please. *volunteers as a tribute*

Yeah. It’s…

Jeongin exits out of YouTube, Twitter and about three other apps, clearing his history and cache for good measure before tossing his phone to the bedside table with a clatter he instantly regrets. One, because it’s not his phone’s fault Jeongin is an idiot. And two, the noise of it is much louder than he expected. Worried, Jeongin looks over at the other bed, holding his breath, but there is no movement, Felix sleeping on undisturbed.

Slowly, Jeongin exhales in relief. They are on a promo tour, far enough to warrant some hotel nights. Sometimes they get their own room, sometimes they’re doubling up, either defaulting to old roommate arrangements or just indiscriminately pairing up, too tired to really care. So far, Jeongin has managed to avoid outright declining to share with Seungmin because it just hasn’t come up. Oh, there have definitely been a couple of times where Seungmin has looked at him when the room allocations have been made but Jeongin has successfully pretended not to notice and Seungmin hasn’t pressed the issue. Yet.

With a sigh, Jeongin turns to his side, scrabbling for the charger lead and connecting it to his much-abused phone, before curling up under the covers. Seungmin’s face is a problem. His own habit of exposing himself to it when he doesn’t have to is a second problem. And yet both of them pale in comparison with the third problem, titled ‘Spillover’ in Jeongin’s head. It’s apt. Very descriptive. Because what’s happened is that everyone’s reaction to Seungmin’s attitude, expression and body language during the choreo has caused a noticeable uptick in his confidence. This in turn is manifesting in Seungmin expanding his behavioural repertoire to adopt some of the said attitude, expressions and body language in everyday interactions. With an added verbal component too. Hence, Spillover.

It's not that Seungmin had been unconfident before. Everyone has their insecurities, but on the whole Seungmin’s always known his own strengths as well as his weaknesses and been at peace with both. But this… This is different. It’s not the way Seungmin is confident about his singing, product of innate talent sure, but mostly hard work. And it’s not how he’s confident about his social skills, how he can go from professional MC to class clown, how he knows exactly how far to push people when teasing and then goes beyond that, confident in his ability to handle the consequences.

No, this is… Well, no point being coy about it. This is about sex. Or, well, Seungmin’s seemingly sudden realisation that he’s not just cute or classically handsome, but also sexy. And not just ‘romantic lead vibes’ sexy. Oh no, the S-Class choreo has somehow caused the world, but most importantly, devastatingly, Seungmin himself to realise that he can absolutely be ‘push me into a wall and ravage me’ sexy if he so chooses.

Unfortunately for Jeongin’s mental equilibrium, Seungmin has been choosing that with increasing regularity. The ‘Boy Next Door’ and ‘Polite Young Gentleman’ are still his default settings when interacting with people outside the group, but new behavioural modes have been introduced to the rotation. Jeongin has titled them ‘Preppy Fuckboi’ and ‘Spicy Mobster’, largely in an attempt to minimise the effect by using ridiculous nicknames. Sadly, as a defence mechanism it’s as effective as calling a charging tiger ‘kitty, kitty, kitty’.

Jeongin grits his teeth and resolutely keeps his eyes closed and hands tucked safely under the covers even though the temptation to reach for his phone is almost overwhelming. He needs sleep. He does not need to find fanvideos of Seungmin’s face when he he’s got barely six hours until he’s going to be exposed to it all live and in 3D.

Blessedly, somewhere between one thought and the next, sleep finally claims him.

***

It’s barely two days later that Jeongin is forced to witness the ‘Preppy Fuckboi’ mode in all its gratingly bright glory. They’re doing some kind of photoshoot for an athletic clothes brand that Jeongin could probably remember if someone asked him, but as it is, he’s not required to talk about it, only look good wearing it.  
 
The clothes are loose and comfortable, mostly in muted or neutral colours, and Jeongin is impressed enough that he kind of hopes they’ll be given some free samples at the end of the day. Otherwise, he may just have to remember the brand name after all, if only to purchase the joggers and the sleeveless tank they’ve put him in. They’re soft and stretchy and would make an excellent dance practice slash lazing around at home outfit.  
 
At first, Jeongin had been relieved when he’d seen the schedule for the day. The concept is relaxed and fun, the shoot itself outdoors in a corner of a park, and they are mostly just allowed to goof around with various sports-related props. Changbin makes a beeline for the park ‘gym’ equipment, quickly engaging in a chin-up competition with Jisung who is losing but having fun and Minho who is holding his own in a way that is clearly rocking both Changbin’s and Jisung’s worldviews. Chan and Felix are kicking a football around, talking in English, accents broad, shoulders loose. It’s good to see Chan smiling. Despite his current personal breakdown, Jeongin is not blind. There’s something going on with their leader, they all know, but for now it seems Felix is handling it.  
 
Meanwhile, Jeongin is sitting on the grass, half in sunlight, half in the shadow of a tree – for aesthetics he assumes – and changing positions every few seconds. By now it’s routine – cross legs, look up, eyes closed, lean back, head in hands, smile, smile wider, then serious – and the photographer is only murmuring instructions every now and then. It’s a nice day and despite ostensibly being at work, he’s enjoying himself, enough that he’s almost zoning out, watching the members from the corner of his eye while he tilts his head this way and that.  
 
Hyunjin and Seungmin had been the last two with the stylists, and Jeongin watches the two of them walk out of the wardrobe trailer, suddenly very grateful that he’s sitting down. They’ve put Seungmin in shorts, again. A part of Jeongin’s mind is wondering if there is a petition he could sign to stop that – he is very willing to bribe, blackmail or beg too – while the majority of it is going ‘hngh thighs’. Embarrassing? Very.  
 
“Oh, that’s wonderful Jeongin-ssi!” the photographer says. “Perfect dreamy look. Keep that a bit longer.”
 
Golden in the afternoon sun, Seungmin laughs, flipping the cap he’s wearing backwards, his hair pushed out of his face, and Jeongin has no problems following the photographer’s instruction.  
 
Sometime later, they’re doing photos with props. Jeongin is awkwardly flailing about with a tennis racket, or maybe it’s a badminton one, he wouldn’t know, while Chan is trying to defend the basketball hoop against Changbin and Jisung but giggling too hard for it to be very effective. Not that it matters much, seeming as neither of them is very good at getting the ball where it needs to go.  
 
Seungmin, predictably, has gravitated toward the baseball bat. There’s no ball to go with it, and a public park busy with people just outside the cordoned photoshoot area is no place for hitting one anyway. Seungmin is taking swings regardless, his movements smooth and practiced, and even when he’s hitting nothing but thin air, Jeongin can see the power in them, can imagine the crack of wood on leather, the high arch of a ball flying across the field.  
 
More devastating than all of that, however, is the uncomplicated joy on Seungmin’s face, the easy confidence in the way he’s holding himself. Jeongin is so focused on Seungmin that he only catches the end of Hyunjin’s joke, and the groans that follow. It’s something about Seungmin’s bat handling skills, clearly more than a little suggestive judging by the way others are reacting, Chan trying to shush everyone, his face pink, Minho going ‘ooooooohhhhhhh!’ loudly while Jisung is outright cackling. Jeongin expects Seungmin to blush, maybe push Hyunjin violently away, but this new Seungmin, this post-S-Class Seungmin, ‘Preppy Fuckboi’ Seungmin with his slim thighs on show and his jaw tilted up, just a bit, does neither.  
 
Instead, he arches an eyebrow, and asks, “You mean these kinds of skills?” before twirling the baseball bat one-handed; a showy move made even more impressive when he switches hands on the fly and does it again, like it’s nothing. Jeongin’s mouth goes dry. He tries not think what else Seungmin’s hands would be able to do with the same kind of surety and fails miserably.
 
“Oh, I’ve got ’em,” Seungmin says. And then he winks, obnoxious and obnoxiously attractive. It too looks like it’s aimed at Hyunjin, who by now is pretend swooning and snorting with laughter, but Seungmin’s eyes track to the side and catch Jeongin’s and then he…
 
Then he twists the bat behind his neck, arms looping over the ends on both sides, posture loose and cocky, and winks again, the smirk on his face softening to a more familiar smile.
 
Jeongin is fucked.  

***

“You’re fucked,” Felix tells him sometime later when they are finally allowed to break for lunch.

Jeongin coughs, trying not to choke on his apple. “I… what?”

“Fucked,” Felix repeats, plopping next to him.

“Or at least he’d like to be,” Hyunjin’s voice says behind them. He squeezes onto the same bench, on Jeongin’s other side, until he’s trapped between the two of them uncomfortably.

“Oh, true that,” Felix says. He and Hyunjin high-five behind Jeongin’s back while he rests his forehead against the wooden table.

He doesn’t want to do it, but to not to ask is as good as admitting he already knows the answer, which… He still has some dignity left. Maybe.

“What are you two gremlins even talking about?” Jeongin turns his head enough the roll a baleful eye in Felix’s direction. “And why are you talking about it to me?”

“Awww,” Hyunjin coos, ruffling Jeongin’s hair. “Denial. Remember what that was like, Lix? When you still tried to pretend like you weren’t disgustingly in—”

“We’re talking about Seungmin,” Felix interrupts, flashing a glare in Hyunjin’s direction before looking down at Jeongin much more softly. “And the giant heart-eyes you’ve been giving him lately.”

Hyunjin snorts. “The heart-eyes are old news,” he says. “The intense boner-eyes, however, they’re new.” He pats Jeongin’s head again, completely ignoring the vicious elbow jab Jeongin aims at his ribs. “They grow up so fast.”

Jeongin contemplates his options. Flight would require him to slither under the table to get away and would only delay the inevitable anyway. Fight is a possibility. Not to brag but he’s been hitting the gym lately with Changbin and Chan hyungs and he could definitely take Felix and Hynjin both, just… Maybe not at the same time. With a sigh Jeongin straightens from his slump.

“Yeah,” he says. “I am fucked.”

Felix and Hyunjin both go wide-eyed with surprise, amusement draining out. They clearly hadn’t expected him to just… admit it.

“And I don’t want to talk about it,” Jeongin says. “At least not right now,” he amends. “Please, hyungs?” He doesn’t even have to fake the wobble in his voice, the way the words catch in his throat, hot and sticky.

“Iyen-ah…” Felix starts but Jeongin can handle that kind of gentleness even less than he can handle the teasing right now, which is to say not at all.

“Let me out,” he says, “I need the bathroom.” It’s brusque enough to border on rude but he’s not kidding, he needs to be out of this conversation right now or else he’s going to do something he’ll really regret. Like pick an actual fight with his hyungs. Or cry.

Hyunjin gets up wordlessly and Jeongin wastes no time swinging his legs over the bench and grabbing the remains of his lunch. Hiding in the bathroom for a while sounds like a great idea.

***

Jeongin thinks he would be able to deal with this new version of Seungmin if it wasn’t so confusingly, intimately mixed with the old Seungmin, the one who throws his legs over Jeongin’s when they play video games, who grabs his arm without hesitation at a variety show recording, loudly declaring ‘vocalracha for life!’, the Seungmin who buys them matching clothes and then looks smugly pleased when he gets Jeongin to wear them, twice as much if they manage to generate emoji-filled social media commentary with their choices. As it is, however, that Seungmin is still very much around, sleepily slumping against Jeongin’s shoulder in the early mornings, sharing a sly side-eye just before roasting one of their hyungs, telling him ‘you can do better’ at vocal lessons, not as criticism but as a statement, an unshakeable belief in Jeongin’s ability to rise to Seungmin’s expectations, to exceed them even.

And there’s comfort in all of that, of course there is, in knowing that his place in Seungmin’s life is still secure, still safe, no matter the changes. The problem is that the place is the same as it has always been. The problem is that Jeongin doesn’t know how to change that.

“Hey,” Seungmin says, leaning on the kitchen doorway. It’s relatively late and he’s bare faced, in an old ratty t-shirt and sleep shorts, no sign of silk pyjamas or smirk, only the tired, blank expression Jeongin is used to seeing. It used to intimidate him to begin with, until he realised it was just the way Seungmin’s face settled, when he was exhausted and comfortable enough not to consciously control his expression.

“Hey,” Jeongin replies. He’s slumped over the table, idly poking at his phone. He finished his dinner a while ago and has been gathering energy to get up ever since. “Didn’t know you were still up.”

“I was waiting for you,” Seungmin says, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t suffuse Jeongin’s whole body with warmth, shocked pleasure squirming in his belly. “Thought you might want to watch the final episode together?”

Jeonging perks up. They’ve been watching the latest hit drama – with warring crime families and star-crossed lovers, a classic – together, but the last episode released two days ago. Jeongin has been avoiding spoilers to the best of his ability because his schedule has been too busy for him to actually watch it yet. He didn’t really expect Seungmin to wait since he’d been speculating about the outcome via their chat ever since the cliffhanger of the penultimate episode and then just stopped. Jeongin had assumed that he’d watched it already and was being careful not to spoil Jeongin, something that had already made him happier than what was essentially common courtesy really warranted.

“You haven’t watched it yet?” he asks.

Seungmin shrugs and repeats himself. “I was waiting for you.”

“…oh.” Jeongin… Well, there’s no kind way to put it. He full on flusters, feeling himself go pink in the face, fingers fumbling the chopsticks and the empty bowl he picks up in an effort to hide what is a complete, utter overreaction, why is he being like this? “That’s… that’s cool,” he says, risking a glance at Seungmin from the corner of his eye.

Seungmin is rolling his eyes at him but there’s an uptick to the corner of his mouth. “C’mon,” he says. “Quit being such a dork about it and let’s go watch this thing. I need to know if Migyeong is going to find Junghwa‘s letter in time.”

They go to Seungmin’s room since he clearly already has the episode queued up, both of them cramming onto the bed, laptop over their legs, shoulders pressed together. There’s nothing unusual about the set-up, but the cognitive dissonance between the familiarity and comfort of the situation and the distinctly unfamiliar and uncomfortable way Seungmin’s presence has affected him lately means Jeongin is unable to relax. Despite the series finale being everything it’s promised to be with explosions, plot twists and last minute love confessions, he can’t seem to settle and concentrate. They get about halfway through before Seungmin finally loses patience with Jeongin’s shifting.

“Right,” he says and lifts the laptop up without even pausing the video, throwing his legs over Jeongin’s and effectively trapping them in place. “Enough of this.” Seungmin settles the laptop back and unceremoniously pulls both of Jeongin’s hands between his.

Jeongin can feel the way his eyes widen, grateful of the way the relative darkness of the room hides what he’s sure is a completely dumbstruck expression on his face. Not that Seungmin is even looking at him, his eyes firmly fixed on the screen, even while the rest of his body is preoccupied with keeping Jeongin’s still and close. Something about that, being ignored but not really, the way Seungmin treated Jeongin and his body so matter-of-factly, like he has the right, makes Jeongin burn. He wants to get annoyed, to say something, but can’t get past the hot shivery feeling that turns his tongue thick and useless, wants to pull and push and laugh it off but can only twitch, legs jerking, fingers curling, mouth opening, closing, opening.

“Innie,” Seungmin says, distracted but with a hint of warning. His legs tighten around Jeongin’s, thumbs digging into the meaty, vulnerable centre of Jeongin’s palms, and just like that, all tension runs out of him, smooth and clean like water.

There’s a gunshot on the screen but neither of them jumps. Little by little, Jeongin lets himself slump against Seungmin’s shoulder. The plot grabs him finally and by the time the credits roll, both of them are humming in satisfaction. Seungmin clicks on the behind the scenes video without a comment and somewhere between one blooper and the next, Jeongin drifts off.

He wakes some indeterminable time later, the pale grey dawn just starting to lighten the room. Seungmin is lying on his stomach, stretched out on top of the covers, arms under his pillow, face turned to the wall. Jeongin himself is curled tightly next to him, toes under Seungmin’s thigh, fisted hands pressed against the hard knob of his elbow.

Jeongin gives himself a minute to breathe before he gets up, slow and careful. He wants to stay. He wants to stay too much so he needs to leave.

***

It’s Felix who corners him less than forty-eight hours after Jeongin sneaks out of Seungmin’s bed, feeling inexplicably guilty. Neither of them mentions falling asleep together, or Jeongin leaving, even though they dissect the drama itself thoroughly at lunch break the following day.

“So,” Felix says, sitting next to Jeongin on the greenroom sofa. “How are things?”

Jeongin, who is in the middle of a late lunch, puts his chopsticks back into the container and carefully places it on the table. They are already in their performance outfits and he’s pretty sure the stylists are going to murder him if the shirt ends up covered in noodles because his fine motor control lapsed due to the emotional distress this conversation is about to cause him.

“Hyung,” he says, “Just ask what you want to ask.”

Felix raises an eyebrow and looks around but despite the room being full of people no one is paying them any attention. The staff are busy with their phones, clipboards or lunches, and most of the members are already in make-up. It’s only him and Felix and Changbin who looks like he’s fallen asleep on another sofa, all the way to the opposite wall.

“Maybe this isn’t the time…” Felix demurs.

Jeongin huffs a laugh. “You’re the one who brought it up,” he says. “But it’s okay, I’m not going to run.”

Felix regards him silently for a few beats as if looking for something. Finally, he seems to find it and nods. “Okay,” he says. “Is this a new thing? With Seungmin,” he clarifies.

“You know it isn’t,” Jeongin says. He’s glad for the few weeks he’s had to come to terms with the fact that apparently his feelings aren’t as subtle as he thought. He’d also spent a day or two panicking that if Felix and Hyunjin knew, maybe everyone did, and maybe that included Seungmin himself which… But then he’d realised that there was absolutely no way that was the case. If Seungmin knew, he would’ve confronted Jeongin about it already. He wasn’t cruel. If he knew, he would’ve let him down gently but firmly a long time ago.

“I guess,” Felix says, “but I don’t really know anything. You don’t talk to anyone, not about these kinds of things.” There’s no admonishment, but the concern laced through the words is clear enough.

“What’s there to talk about?” Jeongin snaps, feeling the way his shoulders hunch defensively but unable to do anything about it.

“Innie…” Felix scoots closer, a distressed look on his face, clearly fighting the urge to pull him into a hug. “I didn’t…”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jeongin sighs. “I’m sorry, hyung.” He doesn’t want to fight. It’s not Felix’s fault Jeongin is fucking malfunctioning right now.

“Okay,” Felix says. He restricts himself to knocking their shoulders together companionably. “So not new. But…” He hesitates, glancing at Jeongin from the corner of his eye. “Something’s changed recently, hasn’t it?”

“Seungmin,” Jeongin answers.

“What?”

“Seungmin’s changed. He’s just… He’s different, lately. Haven’t you noticed?” There’s a whining quality to his voice he doesn’t much care for, but on some level Jeongin would like some external validation for this, and not one that comes from anonymous internet comments. “More… I don’t know? Outgoing? Confident? …Flirty?” The last one comes out sharp.

Felix’s mouth twitches. “Oh,” he says. “I see. Well… Yes, I guess you could say that. Seungmin has been a bit more…” He waves his hands around, looking for a word. “Forward, this comeback. That’s not a bad thing,” Felix adds in a voice that brooks no arguments.

“No, no, just… I don’t know how… I’m not used to it,” he finishes lamely.

Felix regards him silently for a while, clearly measuring his words. “Everyone changes, Innie,” he finally says. “Life is about change. You’ve got to roll with it or be left behind.” The words are harsh, but Felix’s tone is gentle, kind.

Jeongin flinches anyway. He doesn’t want to be left behind. And yet, that’s exactly what happens. At least for a while.

***

The first concrete proof that Seungmin’s new ‘Preppy Fuckboi’ persona might not be only skin-deep comes a few weeks later, at another photoshoot. This one involves another set of over-sized clothes, styled to look like a team outfit for an ambiguous sport and ripped in strategic places. It looks slightly awkward on some of them (Hyunjin, Felix, Jisung), okay on most (Jeongin himself, Minho who looks good in everything, Changbin) and outright indecent on Chan and, somewhat surprisingly, except maybe not, Seungmin.

Changbin full on whistles when Seungmin comes out and Jisung looks distressed, claiming being overwhelmed by so many dirty sports related puns and yet unable to voice any of them surrounded as they are by staff, most of them external. Seungmin smacks the two of them on the head in passing and directs a polite bow at the photographer and her crew, apologising for his members being immature. Then he tops it off with a smile Jeongin thinks the word ‘rakish’ was invented for and he can practically see the photographer’s assistant, a young woman their age, swoon, clipboard clutched to her chest. Jeongin can’t even blame her, reluctantly impressed even when she recovers quicker than he thinks he would have, cocking her head slightly and sending Seungmin a slow smile in return. Jeongin expects Seungmin to pretend not to see it, or for his smile to drop back to the distant, professional one they all employ when faced with outright flirting.

Expect this time it doesn’t. Instead, the smile on Seungmin’s face deepens into something that can only be called encouraging. Jisung, who is the only one still observing the scene beside Jeongin, looks outright gobsmacked. Jeongin doesn’t know what his own expression does but judging from the way Jisung’s turns pitying when his eyes flick to Jeongin, it isn’t anything good. Sick to his stomach, Jeongin walks off, as far as he can in the limited space of the photoshoot area.

It's nowhere near far enough. During the break, Jeongin watches as Seungmin drifts over to talk to the woman, watches the two of them fall into what looks like an easy conversation, watches the way she tucks her hair behind her ears, the way Seungmin touches her arm in goodbye when they are all called back to work. Jeongin watches and watches and watches even though he knows he shouldn’t, even though it makes jealousy, illicit and ugly, churn inside him, makes his whole chest ache.

At the end of the photoshoot, she gives Seungmin a piece of paper. Jeongin would bet a billion won that it has her phone number written on it. Seungmin pockets the slip of paper with a smile, one that shows all his teeth, bright and confident.

Jeongin never sees him throw it away.

***

Seungmin goes out with Youngmi for a couple of months. Jeongin is pretty sure that no one else knows about it, and technically neither does he since Seungmin never actually says anything, certainly not to Jeongin. Not until it’s over. Jeongin is just… paying attention. Noticing the details. Like going through the fine print on the photoshoot related paperwork for the express purpose of finding the assistant’s name and then looking her up on social media. Jeongin tells himself that he’s just making sure she’s not someone who is going to hurt Seungmin. He tells himself he’s relieved, not disappointed, when he finds nothing even a little bit alarming about her.

Because of this, Jeongin doesn’t bring it up either. But while he can avoid the excruciating ordeal of talking about it, he can’t stop himself from witnessing it all unfold. He’s so good at tuning out everyone when he needs to, a necessary survival mechanism in a group as chaotic as theirs, but it’s never worked on Seungmin. Which means that over the next several weeks Jeongin registers every message and call Seungmin exchanges, knows for certain the ones that aren’t from members or his family. He knows the face Seungmin pulls when Felix sends a meme or Chan calls him in for a retake at a studio. He knows the way Seungmin’s eyes crescent with fondness when it’s his parents on the phone. He has never seen this expression before, the small, secret smile, almost smug if not for the softness of it.

Jeongin hates it. He hates it because it’s not aimed at him.

Then there are the dates. Seungmin disappears from the dorms when there is nothing on his schedule and without any vlogs or social media content to follow as would usually be the case if it was a simple shopping trip or a visit to a cafe. The first time it happens, the first time Jeongin realises what it means, the sheer surprise of it almost overwhelms the hurt that follows on its heels. He just… He never imagined it would happen. Which is… stupid, and childish of him. But the lifting of the dating ban has always felt more symbolic than anything, a sign of their success and longevity, not something that any of them would really take advantage of. Except… Maybe they have. Maybe everyone is out having dates and relationships and Jeongin is just too young and naïve to notice.

He almost wants to ask except he doesn’t actually care about the answer, because he doesn’t care if the other members are dating or… Or, maybe just… fucking around? That’s the phrase, isn’t it? When you just have sex for fun, with a lot of different people? Jeongin has a hard time picturing any of his hyungs doing that. Felix is too romantic, Hyunjin too, Changbin too shy, Minho and Jisung are… Whatever Minho and Jisung are, Jeongin makes it a point not to ask any questions. And Chan… Chan looks the part in the hands of the right stylist but is at a heart a family man just waiting for a family to add to the one they already have. But Seungmin… A few months ago, Jeongin would have laughed at the mere idea of Seungmin going on dates, never mind just… Getting his leg over without any feelings being involved.

But now…

Now Jeongin is thinking about how pretty Youngmi is, how tiny and delicate her hands would look in Seungmin’s, how big his would be, spanning the small of her back, pulling her long, black hair free from its ponytail. Now Jeongin is thinking of all the comments about Seungmin acting like he could back someone into a wall with just a look – the one that says he knows all your secrets, the one that says he’ll use them against you in the best of ways – and wondering if Youngmi would like that, or if she’d push back, trail her perfectly manicured nails over Seungmin’s skin and…

The first time Seungmin goes on a date with Youngmi, or at least the first time Jeongin realises that’s what’s happening, he goes to the gym and works out until he’s so exhausted he’s shaking, the sweat stinging his eyes until it’s perfectly fine to blink back moisture, to bury his face into a towel and breathe and breathe through the ache in his muscles and in his heart.

The second time Jeongin knows for sure it happens is after they are back from a week-long mini tour of promotions and performances. As always, the schedule has been too packed and too public to think of anything except the exact thing he’s supposed to be doing, the exact way he’s supposed to be looking, and in a way it’s been a welcome break. One that appears over almost as soon as the dorm door closes behind them and Seungmin’s phone rings.

It's so unusual for his – or any of theirs, really – phone to even be on anything except silent that all of them startle to a varying degree. Felix looks pained but then he’s been shying away from loud noises for the last day with a headache and takes the ringing as a sign to make a beeline straight to his room with barely a backward wave. Minho stays long enough to watch Seungmin fumble the phone out of his pocket, eyebrow raised in curiosity though he asks no questions, before he too walks off, muttering something about making real food.

In the end it’s just Jeongin and Seungmin standing in the cramped entrance way, with Seungmin’s phone playing a cheery melody between them. Jeongin glances at it automatically, but it’s angled in a way that makes it impossible to see the screen. At least the tone sounds like one of the preset ones that comes with the phone, and not something personalised. Jeongin doesn’t know if that’s better or worse.

“Shouldn’t you get that, hyung?” he asks, knowing that he’s bordering on rude but unable to help it. The polite thing, the smart thing, would be to leave and give Seungmin the privacy he’s clearly waiting for but something petty and mean and ugly raises its head inside Jeongin, so he stays rooted to the spot and stares at Seungmin challengingly.

Seungmin’s gaze, which had been glued to his phone, snaps up. His expression is tired, as tired as Jeongin knows his own must be, but there is surprise there too, a frown starting to take shape. “What?” he asks, as if he genuinely doesn’t know what Jeongin just said. Maybe he doesn’t, too focused on Youngmi to listen to Jeongin.

“Pick it up, hyung,” Jeongin says, acid on this tone. “It’s not polite to keep people waiting.” And fuck, he knows, knows he’s being a dick right now, for no good reason, but he can’t seem to help himself.

“Iyen-ah…” Seungmin starts. The ringing stops, the person either giving up or automatic call divert kicking in. Seungmin doesn’t even glance at the phone now. “Is something the matter?” he asks. “Did… Did you want something?” And Seungmin should be irritated, angry, but he sounds gentle instead, and bewildered.

‘You,’ Jeongin thinks and bites his lip hard enough to hurt to keep it inside. He wants to cry. He lashes out instead. “You don’t need to worry about me,” he says. “I don’t need looking after.” It comes out harsh enough that Seungmin actually rears back a bit, eyes wide.

Before he has a chance to say anything, the phone starts ringing again. This time, Seungmin answers. His “Hello,” is smooth if a little flat and he’s walking away fast enough that that’s all Jeongin hears of the conversation before he’s alone, left staring at the wall, his suitcase still in one hand.

The next time he sees Seungmin he’s on his way out, less than an hour later. Jeongin and Minho are in the kitchen, eating the meal Minho put together and watching as Seungmin walks past the kitchen doorway, not even pausing to say goodbye. He’s clearly showered and changed his clothes. Jeongin’s stomach twists at the realisation.

“Where’s he going?” Minho asks, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, after the front door has shut behind Seungmin.

“I don’t know,” Jeongin lies, not daring to look Minho in the eyes.

Minho hums thoughtfully. He doesn’t sound like he believes Jeongin but mercifully he doesn’t push him for the truth either.

Jeongin apologises after Seungmin comes back from another date, about a week later. They’re still on relative downtime, just normal practice and no appearances, which means that it’s been easy to avoid each other almost without anyone really noticing. Well, Minho isn’t saying anything which is as good as, Hyunjin’s been spending most of his time drawing, and 3racha have sequestered themselves in the studio. It’s only Felix who keeps giving Jeongin the kind of concerned doe-eyed looks that make all of them crumble even under the best of circumstances, which these are, Jeongin is prepared to admit, decidedly not.

And it’s not like Felix and his brimming eyes emoji expression are wrong. Jeongin needs to fix this. It’s a mess of his own making, after all. He may have whined at Felix about Seungmin being different, but it’s Jeongin who is acting in a way that he has no business doing. He can’t do anything about the sick feeling of jealousy burning up inside him, but he can at least try very hard not to let it turn him into an asshole.

Jeongin comes home from a singing practice determined to make things right, only to find that Seungmin isn’t home.

“He went out,” Felix says. He’s pretty good at keeping his voice neutral, but his eyes give him away. “Didn’t say when he’d be back.”

Jeongin knows immediately what that means. It’s half past eight in the evening now. If Seungmin isn’t back by now maybe he isn’t planning on coming home at all tonight. The thought makes his gut curdle.

“Okay,” Jeongin says. “Okay. I’ll… Wait up for a bit. I have to talk to him about something.”

Felix’s expression turns hopeful and radiant and Jeongin is quick to snuff that shit out immediately.

“Not that.” He shakes his head, grimacing. “Not… I’m not going to… I just need to apologise over something.”  

“Oh,” Felix says, looking like Jeongin just stole his kitten. He seems like he wants to argue but mercifully keeps his mouth shut, only ruffling Jeongin’s hair on his way out.

Jeongin showers and changes into his pyjamas, determinedly keeping his mind blank. He needs to apologise to Seungmin. He wants… He wants the two of them to be okay. He can’t let his stupid feelings ruin their friendship. He’s going to do it tonight. And if Seungmin doesn’t come home until the morning… Well, then Jeongin is going to do it in the morning and not say a word about anything else.

He settles on the lounge sofa, putting a random movie on for background noise more than anything. His fingers twitch toward his phone but he knows that if he picks it up, he’s only going to go find new video clips of Seungmin, new social medial commentary about his ‘good boy gone bad, just a little’ image as the fans have dubbed it. Or worse yet, he’s going to check Seungmin’s own posts like an obsessive stalker, looking for signs that would confirm where he is and with whom, even though Jeongin knows Seungmin isn’t as stupid as to let something like that slip.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knows is the dip of the sofa cushions as he’s blinking awake to Seungmin’s face.

“Iyen-ah,” he says, hand cupping Jeongin’s shoulder, and the familiarity of the address and the touch make Jeongin feel small and warm, despite everything. “What are you doing sleeping in here?”

“Waiting for hyung,” Jeongin says, head too fuzzy for anything except the unadorned truth.

It seems to take Seungmin a few seconds to realise that Jeongin means him, and then his face settles onto something almost… cautious.

“I… I’m here now,” Seungmin says. “What is it?”

“I…” Seungmin is still in his outerwear, dressed in a stylish peacoat with his hair swept up, off his forehead. He looks so handsome, like a man back from a date. Jeongin pushes the thought away. Not his business. Not his anything. Except a friend. “I wanted to apologise, hyung,” he says. “For the way I talked to you last week.” There’s a pause where Seungmin clearly expects some explanation, some excuse and Jeongin thinks about lying, then thinks about telling the truth and eventually disregards both in favour of a simple. “I’m sorry.” He adds in a clumsy, seated bow.

“It’s okay.” The forgiveness is quick, as is Seungmin’s own, unnecessary apology. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have avoided you. I wasn’t mad, just thought maybe you needed some… space.”

And, well, maybe he had. Just not for the reasons Seungmin thinks. Jeongin shakes his head anyway. “No, I just…” He takes a deep breath and smiles, nothing wide that would look as fake as it is despite his best efforts, but enough to soften the words. “Did you…? I hope you had a good time tonight, hyung. On… On your date.” Jeongin is an adult. Adults talk about their relationships. He can do that with Seungmin, if that’s what he wants.

If Seungmin is surprised that Jeongin knows where he’d been, he doesn’t show it much beyond a few rapid blinks of his eyes. Instead, he shrugs, non-comital, and leans back against the sofa cushions, settling next to Jeongin properly instead of just perching on the edge.

“It was fine,” he answers, head tilted back and gaze firmly on the ceiling. “Nice. I just…” There’s a pause, long enough that Jeongin can feel the questions crowding at the back of his throat, but he knows better than hurry Seungmin along. Plus, he’s not altogether sure he wants to hear it anyway.

He lets himself slump against Seungmin’s shoulder, just a bit. It somehow seems to help.

“I don’t think I’m going to do it again,” Seungmin finally says.

Jeongin can feel the way his expression goes slack with surprise, thankful that Seungmin is still looking at the ceiling like he’s expecting the answers to life’s mysteries to fall from it and not at him.

“Oh?” He wants to ask if Seungmin means ‘ever’ or just with Youngmi, but Seungmin’s expression is closed off and kind of sad, so he just leans closer, head coming to rest against Seungmin’s shoulder.

Seungmin hums in response and after a while wraps an arm around him. Jeongin squeezes his eyes tight and squeezes himself small against Seungmin’s side and pretends everything is normal, that it doesn’t hurt, just a little, to be this close and somehow still not as close as he’d like to be. He slides lower, head settling on Seungmin’s chest, fingers tucking under his coat for warmth, and thinks that it’ll be okay, even if this is all he’s ever going to get, that it’ll be enough. More than.

In the morning, Jeongin wakes up to a stiff neck and the sound of Felix’s camera phone. Seungmin’s voice, rough with sleep, rumbles under his ear, something about Felix meeting a certain death, or at least a violation of his personal possessions, but he makes no move to actually get up from under Jeongin and give chase.

***  

As the 5-Star promotions wind down and the occasions of Seungmin smirking at the camera with that particularly devastating head-tilt that has caused something of a paradigm shift for Stay and Jeongin both grow fewer, Jeongin starts to feel cautiously optimistic. That is, until he remembers that the concept for their follow-up mini-album is ‘same but make it dirtier’. He overhears the stylist noonas using terms like ‘grunge-emo fusion’ and ‘street corner groove’ and once, worryingly, ‘softcore menace’. The results are…

Well.

The photoshoot is a blur. He registers Seungmin’s outfit – over-sized jeans with both knees generously on show through the rips, a white tank top under a white jacket – as something he shouldn’t look at too closely, but the amount of people and activity make it relatively easy to avoid, even in group shots. Later, when the proofs drop into their emails, Jeongin looks at the concept photos in the privacy of his room and learns anew what despair feels like. The outfits are one thing, sure, but they are a familiar trial – even if the number of gloves and harnesses seems to increase with every comeback – something Jeongin has built a certain amount of resistance to. But the way Seungmin looks at the camera from under his fringe, defiant and steady, like he’s sure of himself and the person on the other side of it, makes Jeongin’s breath catch, hot and stuttering.

And he gets it, Jeongin does, the concept demands something challenging, something deliberately provocative that says ‘look at me, look at me and want in vain’ but the way Seungmin takes to it feels like a targeted attack. If 5-Star had been an experiment, a pilot study of sorts, to test Seungmin’s new look, then Rock-Star feels like a whole project dedicated to the cause, with their stylists and make-up and hair artists as eager lab assistants and Jeongin himself a helpless guinea pig... Okay, Jeongin has maybe lost the plot of the metaphor somewhere there but he is also about to lose his whole goddamn mind over the prospect of sharing the MV set and then stage after stage with Seungmin who has realised that he can own it without even opening his mouth, so as problems go, it’s a minor one.

A much bigger problem is how Seungmin, newly single once more and without anyone else occupying his time, is suddenly just there, all the time. And by ‘there’ Jeongin means ‘everywhere’. They all have their own schedules, but the group ones take precedence and it’s not like they have a lot of opportunities or energy to hang out with other people so living in each other’s pockets is pretty much business as usual. But lately it seems that every time Jeongin walks into a room, Seungmin is either already there or shows up soon after, practically on his heels.

Their singing practice times suddenly align more often than not and Jeongin would chalk that up to a weird coincidence if it wasn’t for Seungmin cheerfully admitting responsibility.

“I asked Hyorin noona to switch things around,” he says as they’re waiting for the car. It’s early in the morning, the sky still dark, and the winter cold feels biting, the memory of Jeongin’s warm bed fading with every breath that escapes in a white cloud.

Jeongin cuts his eyes to the side. Seungmin is standing close, really close, but then… It is really quite cold. “What? Why?”

“So we could share a ride,” Seugnmin says, as if the answer is obvious.

Jeongin is still processing that when the car turns up. Seungmin’s hand is warm against the small of his back even through all the layers of clothing as he opens the door, guiding Jeongin inside, and it’s distracting enough to derail any further questions.

Jeongin finishes with his lesson first, like a full thirty minutes first, and he could, maybe even should, just get a car back to the dorms on his own but… Seungmin’s smile when he finds Jeongin waiting in the corridor outside the practice rooms is wide and wholly unselfconscious. It makes something warm curl in Jeongin’s stomach.

“Innie,” Seungmin says, holding out a hand to pull Jeongin up from his chair. “Let’s get some lunch, yeah? Hyung’s treat.”

Jeongin allows Seungmin to drag him to his feet and drag him out into the bright winter day, the sky robin egg blue and the sun dancing over Seungmin’s hair, newly dyed and gleaming mahogany. They find an out of the way restaurant and eat the best tteokbokki Jeongin has ever tasted, served by a toothless halmeoni who pats them both on the head with a self-satisfied hum after they present her with empty dishes and profuse thanks.

Next practice day, Seungmin is there again, a solid line of warmth next to him in the car, a blinding smile across the café table afterwards. The food changes, but the pattern holds. And it doesn’t stop there.

***

“I’m going to the gym,” Seungmin tells him one afternoon. He doesn’t look happy about it, but he does look determined.

Jeongin raises an eyebrow from where he’s lounging on the bed, Seungmin leaning on his doorway.

“Tsk,” Seungmin waves a hand at him. “Not a word about it.”

Jeongin presses his lips tightly together to suppress a grin and mimes locking them up and throwing away the key. He expects Seungmin to disappear after his announcement, but he lingers, thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his jeans, his oversized sweatshirt bunched up. There’s nothing particularly stylish or provocative about this outfit, not a lick of makeup on him, and yet… Jeongin’s gaze keeps meandering around, catching on the large rip in Seungmin’s jeans, the flash of pale skin under it.

When he finally looks up, he finds Seungmin watching him back, eyes dark and unreadable. Jeongin flushes, realising he’s been caught, pulse kicking up. Words come well in advance of thoughts.

“You need someone to spot you, hyung?” he asks and then scrambles up from the bed, panicking, because that’s probably the worst possible thing he could have suggested. Seungmin is definitely going to realise now that Jeongin is… That he’s… “I mean, I haven’t been yet today either and so, if you wanted to, we could…”

“Innie,” Seungmin interrupts. He’s smiling with all his teeth, little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Grab your gear and let’s go.”

Jeongin snaps his mouth shut and does as he’s told.

That too becomes a semi-regular occurrence. Jeongin still goes with Chan and Changbin hyungs for the more serious workouts and Seungmin still prefers almost any kind of cardio over the weights but the label’s sports facilities are good and they end up either going together or crossing paths even when they don’t do the same thing.

“The weights are not going to help with your lung-capacity,” Seungmin claims almost weekly, and Jeongin whines his way through jogs and rowing machine sessions and an occasional game of something or other. Doesn’t matter what, if it includes a bat or a racquet and a ball or something to hit around, Seungmin is distressingly good at it. Jeongin still agrees to a match every time, even though he knows he’s going to lose.

“It keeps me humble,” he tells Hyunjin, straight-faced, when he teases him about it and ignores the near hysterical laughter that follows, Jinnie and Felix leaning on each other, too overcome to coo at him like usual.

The truth is the whole experience keeps Jeongin permanently horny. Seungmin’s never been interested in getting buff, has no intentions of building abs or biceps to flash around, perfectly confident in his body as it is. He exercises for the sole reason of being able to cope with the choreographies, to improve his singing endurance, and because, well, when it comes to hitting flying things with a stick of some kind, Seungmin simply loves it, unabashedly. The visuals of that are torturous; Seungmin in shorts, white t-shirt – and, on one painful occasion that will remain seared to Jeongin’s mind for the rest of his life, a tank top – clinging to his body damply, hair messy, cheeks pink with exertion…

“That the best you can do?” Seungmin asks, breathless and taunting, challenging, like he knows Jeongin can do better, a little mean in a way that zings through Jeongin’s entire body with electricity. “C’mon, baby. Try harder!” He smacks the flat of today’s racquet – squash – against Jeongin’s ass in passing, and he knows that the ‘baby’ is supposed to be a dig at their age difference, but it’s not annoyance or indignation that burns in Jeongin’s stomach over it, that makes his grip tighten on the handle of his own racquet.

And when Seungmin succumbs to the inevitable and engages with the actual gym equipment and the free weights… Well, he’s clearly not into it, not like some of the other members, Jeongin himself included, are, but he is as perfectly, distressingly, competent with that as everything else. He doesn’t try to show off or overdo it, displays no self-consciousness over selecting weights lighter than everyone else.

Jeongin hovers nearby until Seungmin rolls his eyes, already on his back on the bench.

“Iyen-ah,” he says. “Come spot me then like you promised.”

Jeongin goes, determinedly keeping his eyes trained on Seungmin’s grip on the bar, the quiver of his muscles, trying to focus on nothing except the health and safety aspect of his role, even though the rest of Seungmin is right there, his face red with the effort, legs splayed open on either side of the bench, chest heaving…

“Ten,” Seungmin huffs out and the weights rattle back onto their hooks, no assistance from Jeongin necessary. “Give me a minute and I’ll do another rep.”

“You can do two more,” Jeongin says. “Fighting, hyung!”

Seungmin mock snarls at him but he does two more reps.

***

Aladdin, as Prince Ali Ababwa, is just making his big entrance when Seungmin wanders into the lounge.

“A movie night?” he asks. “And no one told me.”

Hyunjin barely lifts his head from where it’s resting on Changbin’s lap on the sofa. “We did. But you were too busy gaming with Yongbokkie to check your messages.”

Seungmin opens his mouth but then digs out his phone and scrolls through it instead. “Fine,” he says. “You’re forgiven. But only because I won.”

Jeongin doesn’t quite believe that but Felix is at the other dorm for the night so he can’t verify either way. Something about taking advantage of the bigger kitchen there even though Jeongin is pretty sure the kitchens are identical and what Felix is really taking advantage of is the fact that everyone else is here so he can get some quality time in with Chan-hyung. Jeongin can’t even blame him, not when he could feel his whole body come to attention as soon as Seungmin entered the room. He does his best to not actually turn toward him but can’t help the way his gaze snaps to him immediately. At least the dim lighting offers some cover.

Seungmin is surveying the scene, clearly looking for a place to sit. Changbin and Hyunjin have taken over the whole sofa, which is impressive considering it should seat four in theory, although Hyunjin’s spindly legs are long enough for a whole other person on their own. Minho and Jisung are sprawled on the floor, cosy in a nest of pillows and blankets they’ve made even though it isn’t even cold. Neither pair looks like they’d be inclined to make space for Seungmin.

Jeongin, curled up in the room’s sole armchair, knows what’s going to happen before Seungmin even turns into his direction, and he hates, loves, hates the way his insides flutter with nerves and anticipation and something sweeter still when Seungmin picks his way toward him.

“Innie,” he says, voice quiet as he bends over the chair, hair falling over his face, “can hyung sit with you?” In the darkness with everyone’s attention on the film, it feels almost dangerously intimate.

Jeongin nods and curls himself tighter even though there is no way Seungmin can actually fit into the chair with him. Seungmin seems to realise the same thing as he doesn’t really try, perching on the arm instead, only his feet on the seat, one wedging itself between Jeongin’s back and the cushion and the other to the side until Jeongin is more or less sitting between Seungmin’s legs.

Jeongin loses several minutes to that, to the feel of Seungmin bony knees, the warmth of him, the way he shifts so that Jeongin can lean back, just a bit, until he’s slumped enough for his head to rest against Seungmin’s slim thigh. He comes back to Seungmin’s fingers tapping a rhythm to the slope of his shoulder, singing Whole New World under his breath while Jasmine and Aladdin soar over the night sky. Jeongin finds himself humming along, irresistibly pulled along by the melody and Seungmin’s voice like always.

“We should cover this,” Seungmin whispers when the song fades out. “We’d sound good.” It doesn’t seem like a joke, but Jeongin doesn’t dare to say yes because what if it is, because he wants it too much, so he only pokes Seungmin’s shin and then leaves his hand there, fingers twisted in the soft fabric of Seungmin’s jogging bottoms.

The movie progresses. Jisung falls asleep and starts snoring, much to everyone’s amusement, Changbin is typing something on his phone and slowly, inch by inch, Seungmin slides lower and lower into the chair proper. Jeongin tries to shuffle closer to the edge to make room but there just isn’t any to give in a piece of furniture very clearly not made for two grown men. In the end, he huffs, puts his feet down and goes to lower himself onto the floor. Not the first time, nor the last, he’s had to give up his seat for a hyung even though Seungmin hasn’t asked.

Before he gets his ass off the cushions though, Seungmin snags the back of his hoodie in a firm grip. Jeongin halts, expecting Seungmin to ask where he’s going or maybe even send him to get snacks or something. Instead, Seungmin’s arm snakes around his middle and Jeongin finds himself tugged back, flush against Seungmin’s chest.

“Iyen-ah,” he murmurs, breath warm against Jeongin’s ear. “Stay. Stay with hyung, okay?”

And Jeongin can do nothing but shiver and nod and press himself close, closer, tucking his face into his knees and himself into the crook of Seungmin’s body. He stays there until the credits roll, he stays until everyone else leaves, pretending to sleep, fingernails digging into his own palms when Seungmin shushes the others with “If you wake him, I will make you suffer the next live recording we have,” which is the kind of threat everyone knows to take seriously. Jeongin stays until the rhythmic movement of Seungmin’s fingers through his hair falters as he drifts off and Jeongin falls asleep for real, between one carefully measured breath and the next.

***

At this point, it’s only a matter of time until Jeongin fucks up. Unfortunately, the time in question takes them right into the award season, where Stray Kids have more nominations than they ever dared to hope for, and about twice as many live performances. The only consolation is that Jeongin doesn’t fuck up on the red carpet or on stage or in front of the reporters with flashing cameras. Oh no, he saves it for the afterparty, witnessed only by those he looks up to and those who, bewilderingly, look up to him. This is obviously much better.

It’s a good night. For one, they win, which never stops taking all of them by surprise, the joy of it bursting like fireworks in Jeongin’s chest as they go up to accept the award, Chan and Changbin making their thanks. For a moment Chan looks like he wants to shove the mic at Jeongin who takes a casual half-step behind Seungmin who ends up getting tapped to represent the maknae line. He’s full of charm with just enough edge to it to be palatable for an award show but even so Jeongin can practically see the audience – by which he means the other idols near the stage – swooning.

Afterwards, there’s a party. There’s always one, at these things, but they don’t always attend and it’s rarely all of them when they do. This time, Seungmin says he wants to stay – something about wanting to catch up with a couple of people – and Jeongin is nodding along before he’s really had a chance to think it through. If Seungmin is staying, so is he. Chan and Minho engage in a wordless conversation for a few seconds and in the end Minho, and by extension Jisung, stay behind too, while the rest of the group heads home. Jeongin makes a token protest about being an adult who doesn’t need a minder, not when at least two of their senior staff are staying too, but he’s honestly kind of relieved to have Minho and Jisung there, especially as he realises that Seungmin’s plans weren’t just talk.

As soon as they are inside, Seungmin walks off with a casual wave, and gets swallowed by the crowd almost immediately. Jeongin refuses to acknowledge the pang of abandonment he feels and squares his shoulders determinedly.

“I’m going to have a look around,” he tells Minho, who unexpectedly doesn’t protest in any way, although Jeongin can feel the way his and Jisung’s eyes follow him as he deliberately heads in the opposite direction from Seungmin and does his best to just forget about him and enjoy himself, for once.

It works surprisingly well, and for an hour, Jeongin lets it all get to his head, just a bit. There's something intoxicating about knowing their hard work has paid off, is acknowledged, not just by the fans but by their peers, reflected in the faces of everyone he passes. Most of the smiles and congratulatory nods, bows and claps on the shoulder, are sincere and well-meaning, or at least they are good enough that Jeongin can't tell otherwise. There are some - because there always are - whose flattery is tinted with jealousy or outright derision. But for the most part Jeongin ignores it and lets himself drift from one group to the next, exchanging greetings and being introduced to more people than he can possibly remember the names of, except when those people are the same ones who had occupied the walls of his teenage self. It's a heady feeling, made headier by the glass of something bubbly and alcoholic in his hand. The manager with them had strongly suggested they limit their drinking to three glasses after which Minho had very emphatically said "Two" and so, two it is. Jeongin makes the second one last until it turns warm and flat in his grip and in the end, he abandons it in favour of cold water and the selection of snacks he finds on a side table.

Plate in hand, he observes the crowds, no one vying for his attention at the moment. He spots Jisung and Minho easily enough, also off to the side but surrounded a group of other people, some of whom Jeongin recognises in that vague way that suggests he's seen them on his phone screen more than once. Seungmin, however, is nowhere to be seen, at least not in the time it takes Jeongin to sate his hunger. There's no real reason for that to make him anxious. There's almost as much security at the venue as there are guests, and some of it is theirs. The staff or Minho would have come to get him if something had gone wrong. And yet...

Eventually, Jeongin gives into the jittery feeling and wanders over to his hyungs. He waits politely to the side until Minho breaks off from his conversation and turns to him.

"What's the matter, Iyen-ah?" he asks, quietly enough not to be overheard. "You want to leave?" He scans Jeongin from head to toe, a little crease of worry forming between his eyebrows.

Jeongin shakes his head. "Where's Seungmin hyung," he asks. The words come out sounding perfectly casual, but Minho sees right through him.

"He's fine," he says. "I saw him talking to someone in the other room not too long ago." Minho points to the left, Jeongin following his direction and... Oh. Oh, he hadn't even realised there was another room.

"Thanks, hyung," he says, already turning to go. "I'll... I'll go look there." He hears Minho call something to his retreating back but not clearly enough to make out the actual words.

Later, Jeongin wonders if some part of him had known what he would find, the subconscious trepidation of it manifesting as a hollow, sick feeling in his stomach that replaces the earlier buzz of pleasure with every step he takes. For now, he simply pushes through it, walking steadily toward the entrance to the side room.

It's smaller than the one for the main party, and quieter, the thump of the background music dimming noticeably, while the hum of conversations stays almost the same. The room is furnished with comfortable chairs and sofas, many of them occupied by couples and groups in various stages of relaxation. A few pairs of eyes flick to his direction when he enters but none linger, no one interested enough to break away from their current interactions. For that, Jeongin is grateful. He scans the room quickly and then when he still doesn't see any glimpse of Seungmin's shimmering blue suit, he makes himself take a slow walk around so he can see even those who are sitting with their back to the door.

No luck.

Jeongin bites his lip with a mix of annoyance (Seungmin knows better than to just wander off like this) and worry (because Seungmin knows better than to wander off like this which means...), already turning back to return to Minho when he spots it. A balcony door, half hidden by the curtains, but revealed by the group of women walking through it and the cool night breeze that slips past them.

Jeongin follows them out. The balcony is impressive, wrapping around two sides of the building, with more seating areas and plants dotted with fairy lights, and beyond them a picture-perfect view of the river, the lights of the city reflecting on the water. There are people here too but not as many as inside. The group of women Jeongin had trailed take possession of one of the large corner seating areas and he walks past with a brief polite bow, acknowledging their years of experience that far exceed his. The balcony is dimly lit and Jeongin recognises Seungmin's voice before he spots him, the familiar cadence of it snagging at his hearing before his eyes locate the source.

Off to the side, out of direct eyeline of everyone except Jeongin who has been deliberately looking, is Seungmin. He's leaning on the balcony, his back to the view and both elbows resting on the railing, posture the very picture of relaxation.

He is not alone.

Jeongin doesn't know the other man, but he recognises him as a member of one the new groups that had debuted this year. Unlike many of them, he's probably around Jeongin and Seungmin's age, old enough that the conversation Jeongin is starting to decipher snatches of as he slowly moves closer seems mostly devoid on honorifics. Something about that makes Jeongin bristle. No matter the lack of age difference, Seungmin is this guy's sunbaenim. They've just won another award. Seungmin deserves real respect, not the... The stunned look of adoration that is visible even in the dim lighting, the helpless way the guy sways closer when Seungmin smiles, slow and more than a little wicked and it's...

Jeongin freezes in the spot, his feet refusing to take him any closer, Seungmin's name stuck in his throat like a fish bone. He's seen glimpses of this Seungmin before, been devastated by the tilt of his jaw on countless video clips, the easy confidence of his posture on publicity shoots and appearances, even the flashes of interest, of heat, banked but there when Seungmin had spoken to Youngmi or pushed back against jokes meant to fluster, but this... This is different. This is worse. Because all those times have been in front of an audience, in one way or another, and Jeongin could tell himself that it was all a role, like a new song Seungmin has learned and added to his repertoire and was now able to pull out whenever he wants.  

Jeongin can't do that now. There is no audience, or at least none that Seungmin is aware of, all of his attention on the man with him. And yet... There is something predatory about Seungmin, the glint of his perfect teeth making Jeongin shiver, even when Seungmin's stance stays so seemingly open, inviting.

The recipient of his invitation sure seems eager to accept, his fingers grazing at the lapels of Seungmin’s jacket, touching the buttons of his shirt in a way that suggests he’d quite like to open them.

Jeongin wants to rip the guy’s arms off. The jealousy that slams into him at the sight is an ugly, jagged thing, red hot and a hundred times worse than what he’d felt with Youngmi. She might have done exactly what this guy was doing now, and more, but Jeongin never had to see it, never had to watch the way Seungmin allows it, likes it even, judging by the pleased little smile on his face, the way his eyes half-lid, gaze going dark, and it hurts, seeing it hurts.  

Seungmin’s hand comes up to grasp the guy’s wrist and for a moment Jeongin thinks he’s misread things and Seungmin is going to push the man off him, to tell him to stop, Jeongin’s foot already taking a step forward in order to, to, to intervene, something, but then…

Then Seungmin pulls instead pushing, using the momentum to flip their positions in a move that is TV-drama smooth, the other guy’s back hitting the balcony railing, Seungmin’s arms bracketing him in neatly.

“Fuck!” the guy breathes out, as shocked by the turn of events as Jeongin, and as turned on by the sound of it.

Seungmin grins, bright and wicked. “Maybe,” he says, and the word, the implication of it hits Jeongin low in the stomach, a sharp wedge of want made sharper still by the knowledge that what he’s witnessing isn’t for him, will never be for him, and he knew it already but seeing it…

He must make a noise then, something loud enough, distressed enough, to prick Seungmin’s hearing at just the right frequency, because his head snaps around, gaze landing on Jeongin unerringly and with an almost physical impact.

“Iyen-ah?” Seungmin sounds surprised, his eyes wide, his body still pressed almost right against the other boy and Jeongin…

Jeongin flinches.

Seungmin straightens up, the surprise on his face morphing into a worried frown. “Iyen-ah,” he says again. “What…?”

“I… No. No. Nothing.” Jeongin’s hands come up like he’s protecting himself against an attack. “It’s nothing, I…” He shakes his head, heart pounding in his chest, panic clawing at his insides because no, no, he can’t let Seungmin see, can’t let… “Sorry, sorry, hyung, I’m sorry, I’ll just…” He takes a step back. Then another.

“Wait!” Seungmin’s call is loud enough to draw attention, the weight of it pressing Jeongin’s shoulders inwards, until he can feel himself cringing, the backs of his eyes burning humiliatingly.

He pivots on his heel and runs.

It may not be literal running because Jeongin doesn’t want to cause any more of a scene than he thinks they already have, but if being an idol has taught him anything it’s the skill of moving from one place to another with the kind of stride that seems leisurely but actually eats distance quickly whilst projecting the air of someone with important business to attend to elsewhere. To really sell it, Jeongin pulls out his phone and pretends to be deeply focused on texting someone, thumb hitting random keys on his notepad app while his eyes grow blurry with tears he absolutely refuses to let fall where anyone could see.

He clears the balcony in less than fifteen seconds, using Seungmin’s surprise to his advantage and weaving between the seating areas with the sole purpose of making his progress more difficult to gauge from a distance. By the time he reaches the door, he’s certain that Seungmin hasn’t followed him. It’s a relief at first until his mind reminds him how Seungmin has no reason to do that. Because why would he, when he already has someone quite literally in his arms, someone pretty and perfect who Seungmin clearly wants, having turned all his charm and confidence into getting.

“Hello?” Jeongin lifts the phone to his ear, pretending to take a call as he makes a beeline for the next exit. “Yes, I’m coming right now,” he says to no one and ignores the way his voice wavers, syllables thick and fuzzy. Terrible diction. Seungmin would tell him to take better care if he heard.

Jeongin swallows, forces back the wave of bitter hurt that threatens to spill, ducks through the door, to the left, and then finally comes to a halt by the corner of the bar. The main room is still busy, the atmosphere having turned even more raucous in the short time Jeongin has been gone. The urge to flee still flutters inside him like a trapped bird, but he doesn’t know which way to go now. He can’t risk running into their staff, who will take one look at him and know something is wrong, or Jisung and Minho who will take one look and probably know exactly what’s wrong, and worse still, attempt to fix it.

Jeongin looks around, keeping the phone to his ear and making occasional ‘hmm’ noises to maintain the illusion of ‘yes, very busy with an important call, do not disturb’. He just needs… He just needs somewhere private, just for a few minutes, long enough to get his face under control, so he can share a car home with everyone, with Seungmin, without…

Except, who’s to say Seungmin is coming home with them? It’s their evening off, there are… There are hotel rooms in this very building that Seungmin could choose to stay in, if he wanted to, with…

Blindly, Jeongin turns toward the corridor he knows leaves toward the restrooms. He walks past the ladies, the gentlemen and the disabled bathrooms and keeps going, focusing on appearing like he has a destination in mind, even when the people passing him are now mostly venue employees, giving him startled looks.

Suddenly, a door opens in front of him, almost hitting Jeongin in the face. He sidesteps clumsily, only to collide with the person exiting the room. They both bounce back in a flurry of arms, Jeongin’s phone flying to the floor.

“Oh my god!” the woman says, and then, doing a visible doubletake as she clearly recognises Jeongin, if not specifically then at least as one of the party guests rather than as staff, repeats it even more empathically. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” She’s bowing in apology before she’s finished the sentence, which makes Jeongin’s manners kick in despite the shock.

“No, no, please, it was my fault,” he says, bending to pick up his phone. “I wasn’t watching where I was going, please don’t worry.”

The woman looks relieved that he’s not about to make a scene and get her fired like some asshole celebrity, but she also clearly doesn’t know what to make of him, a young idol wandering alone this far from where he’s supposed to be.

“Seonsaengnim… May I show you back to the party?” she asks, tentatively.

Jeongin is about to politely decline when he catches sight of the room over the woman’s shoulder. “Actually,” he says, “may I ask for a different favour?”

The staff office is not needed at the moment, and the woman – a hotel manager of some kind Jeongin surmises – is all too happy to let Jeongin use it. He barely even needs the lie of a having to make a business call.

The door closes behind her with a gentle click and just like that, Jeongin is alone. The room is small, and functional. There’s a desk, bare except for the computer and a mug with pens, a couple of chairs, some shelves with folders and a window that looks out toward the city. For several long seconds Jeongin stares at the view, at the distant streaks of lights from the constant flow of traffic, the silhouette of the skyscrapers against the night sky, and thinks of nothing.

Then, as if someone takes their finger off the pause button, the events of the last fifteen minutes come crashing down on him. A low keen, wet and thick and terrible, pushes past his lips and Jeongin doubles over with the force of it, elbows crashing into the desk painfully as he collapses into the chair. The tears that have been threatening for a while finally spill over. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, hard enough to see stars, but it makes no difference.

God, he hates this, hates feeling out of control when there is no anchor, so solid point to cling to, no Seungmin to… His breath hitches on a sob, panic pushing at the edges of the hurt, because what if he can’t pull himself together, what if he’ll just be stuck like this, a pathetic, whimpering mess too stupid to let go of something that was never his to begin with, too…

A sound of the door opening jerks him right out of his spiralling thoughts. Startled, he looks up, expecting a random hotel employee and dismayed that he’d forgotten to lock the door, what kind of idiot…

“Innie?”

Of course. Of course it’s Seungmin.

Jeongin whirls around in the desk chair, desperate to hide his face, hands coming to wipe at his cheeks.

“I’m fine,” he says, even though the lie of it is obvious, his voice muffled, cracking like brittle glass. “I’m fine, I just… I just need a minute.”

There’s three seconds of silence and then the click of the lock, Seungmin doing what Jeongin had forgotten. Unlike normally, this brings him no comfort.

“What…” Seungmin sounds so concerned, so sincere, and it twists in Jeongin’s gut because the last thing he wants is pity. “What’s wrong?” Footsteps. “Did something happen?”

Seungmin’s hand on his shoulder acts like a trigger and Jeongin scrambles up, almost tripping on the chair in his haste to get away. He can’t, he can’t let Seungmin comfort him over this, but he can’t come up with a story convincing enough to stop him either and…

Seungmin is gaping at him, visibly taking in the signs of distress, the incriminating tear tracks on Jeongin’s face, made only more obvious by his scrubbing. “Iyen-ah,” he breathes, reaching out with both hands, obviously trying to pull Jeongin into a hug.

Jeongin flinches, backing away. The hurt that flashes over Seungmin’s face is impossible to miss. It makes shame curl in the pit of Jeongin’s stomach, but it also makes him irrationally angry, makes him lash out in self-defence like a cornered animal, because what right does Seungmin have to be hurt when…

“Don’t touch me,” he hisses, mouth twisting in a snarl, shoulders hunching.

Seungmin’s face goes carefully neutral. “I’m just trying to help,” he says. “You ran out before I could ask what happened. You’re upset. I can see that you’re upset. If you just tell me, hyung can…”

“You can go back to, to your boytoy,” Jeongin spits, “that’s what you can do.” He’s horrified by the words spilling out, too bitter, too revealing by half, but entirely unable to stop himself. “No need to bother yourself with me.”

Seungmin’s expression cracks, frustration drawing his brows together, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “That’s what this is about?” he asks, incredulous. He takes a step forward, then another, looming right into Jeongin’s space. “That I wasn’t immediately available?”

Yes. But also… “No.” Jeongin shakes his head. Seungmin is close enough now that Jeongin would have to tilt his head back and to the side to look him properly in the eye. Which is something he’s not willing to do, already feeling small and vulnerable without adding an exposed neck to the mix. “No,” he says again, addressing the crisp line of Seungmin’s button down, the perfect angles of his jacket lapels. “I know I’m not your priority.”

At the same time Seungmin says, “Iyen-ah. Don’t you know that hyung would drop anyone and anything if you needed me?”

“What?” Jeongin says.

“What?” Seungmin says.

They stare at each other, wide-eyed, Jeongin’s earlier reluctance to look up overtaken by pure surprise.

Then something shifts in Seungmin’s expression, the concern in it sliding into something… contemplative. Calculating.

Jeongin’s gaze flickers downwards in a way he knows, knows, Seungmin will catch and oh no, oh no, no, no, because there is a definite uptick to Seungmin’s lips, the beginnings of a smirk – the confident-bordering-on-arrogant kind that says ‘I’m in control now and that’s how we both like it’ that has haunted Jeongin’s whole fucking existence for the last several months – clear as a day.

“You don’t know, do you,” Seungmin says and it’s shaped like a question, but it really isn’t. He steps somehow impossibly closer still until their chests are practically brushing against each other and Jeongin is forced to crane his neck back whether he likes it or not. Somehow, not looking is not an option, not when Seungmin’s gaze is keeping him pinned like a butterfly in a museum exhibit. He tries to back away but there’s nothing but bookshelves behind him, and everywhere else…

Seungmin.

“You really think I would choose someone else over you,” Seungmin says with a shake of his head, disbelief colouring his voice.

Jeongin can only stare. He knows his mouth is hanging open in a way that’s probably unattractive but… Why wouldn’t Jeongin think that? It isn’t him Seungmin had taken on dates…

…except for the countless lunches and gym sessions and movie nights and…

It isn’t him Seungmin had invited into his space, into the circle of his arms…

…except for all the times they’d curled together over a laptop, fallen asleep, limbs tangling, feet knocking under the table, shoulders…

It isn’t him Seungmin had smiled at tonight, slow and knowing. It isn’t him Seungmin had crowded close to, had looked at with eyes dark and glittering like he wanted to…

…except right now. Right now, it is.

Jeongin swallows. Nods jerkily. Seungmin is so close. So close and looking like he wants to be closer.

“Iyen-ah,” Seungmin says, “baby,” and Jeongin’s knees buckle, his chest feeling like it’s about cave in from the impact. “I didn’t know you were an option,” Seungmin says, his hand coming up, slow but unhesitating, two fingers ghosting over the corner of Jeongin’s jaw, nudging the underside of his chin, a mere hint, a suggestion of intent, but that’s all it takes, in the end, to make Jeongin snap.

He surges forward, clumsy and whining, but Seungmin catches him, meeting him halfway, nothing on his expression except joy and want in the scant seconds before their lips meet. The kiss starts off-centre, but Jeongin has no time to feel embarrassed over his eagerness, not when Seungmin’s hands come up to cradle his face, tilting it just right, guiding the angle, and Jeongin’s whole body keeps shaking, shaking, because this is Seungmin holding him, moving him, arranging Jeongin as he pleases, for their mutual pleasure. The thought sparks like livewire all over, spills out in a helpless whimper that Seungmin swallows, curls his tongue around like he’s starving for it.

“Hyung.” Jeongin wants to touch, wants Seungmin to touch him, frantic with the need for Seungmin to know that he can. “Hyung, please, I…” He pulls off just enough to talk except Seungmin’s mouth latches onto the side of his neck, wet and hot and way more careful than Jeongin wants it to be even though he knows all the reasons why leaving marks is out of the question, and the words dissolve on his tongue like sugar. He moans, sticky sweet and high-pitched, Seungmin’s teeth grazing over his pulse point briefly in response, until he wrenches himself away.

“Iyen-ah,” he rasps, his voice, usually so smooth, so perfect, breaking on Jeongin’s name like surf crashing against rocks. “Fuck, you’re so…” Seungmin’s fingers are gentle, brushing at the smudged makeup in the corner of Jeongin’s eyes. The way he keeps looking at him is not. “Tell hyung what you want,” he murmurs. It’s not a request. “Tell me, and I will give it to you.”

Jeongin’s breath hitches on a sob, his hands burying themselves under Seungmin’s jacket, skating over the curve of his ribs, arms wrapping around his slim waist as he presses close

“Choose me,” he blurts out. “I want you to…” He tucks his face into the collar of Seungmin’s shirt, the clean citrus of his cologne making his head spin, the humiliation of asking, of begging, burning in his veins. “Hyung. Choose me.”

“Baby,” Seungmin breathes. And then Jeongin is being kissed again, deep and bruising like Seungmin has stopped holding himself back, like he can’t help himself.

Jeongin moans into it, pushing closer, closer, his thigh slipping between Seungmin’s, hips stuttering forward, and he wants, he wants, he wants…

“Yeah,” Seungmin says, “Yeah, okay, let’s…” He keeps one hand on Jeongin, fingers tangling into his hair briefly before sliding down over his side, while he gropes blindly for the chair with the other. Finding it, Seungmin collapses into it, cheeks flushed, gaze heavy as he looks up.

It’s so dirty, the way Seungmin sprawls on the innocent piece of office furniture, his hair mussed, legs spread wide, hands leaving Jeongin to rest on his own thighs instead, framing the clear, indecent outline of his hardon.

“You want to sit on hyung’s lap, Innie?” he asks, and Jeongin’s mouth waters, saliva pooling on his tongue until he thinks he’s in danger of drooling. “Let hyung take care of you? Thats what you want, isn’t it?” Seungmin hums, his eyes raking up and down Jeongin’s body, blatant, assessing. “For hyung to take care of this?” He makes no effort to hide what he’s looking at.

Jeongin’s cock twitches in his trousers and it’s obvious Seungmin sees it, his smirk deepening into something downright predatory. He doesn’t lift a finger to help Jeongin when he crawls into Seungmin’s lap, straddling his thighs, hands clutching at his shoulders for balance, just sits there and lets Jeongin do all the work, lust clumsy and burning from the look in Seungmin’s eyes, the one that says he’s very much enjoying seeing Jeongin like this.

It’s only when Jeongin is fully seated, mouth dropping open from the feel of Seungmin’s hard cock pressing against the seat of his trousers, that his hands come up to squeeze Jeongin’s waist, catching him just as he starts to tip backward, his usually excellent balance shot to hell.

“Steady on baby,” he murmurs, voice soft but with an underlying lilt of mocking that makes Jeongin flush harder, makes desire glitter-glide over every nerve-ending, everything going blurry around the edges. “You wanna move this way,” Seungmin whispers, mouth feather light against the underside of his jaw, then over his lips as his captures the whimper falling off them. He grips Jeongin’s hips and tugs, guiding him into a rocking motion that drags his cock against the long line of Seungmin’s thigh on every pass.

“Ah, ah, ah.” The moan, breathless and obscene, punches out of him at every roll of his hips.

“Look at you, baby, you’re ready to come and I haven’t even gotten a hand on you yet,” Seungmin says and Jeongin whines into the crook of Seungmin’s neck, feels his cock spurt precome, his briefs turning wet and sticky with it “Needy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, hyung please touch…” He gasps, pressing mindless kisses against every available patch of skin, and begs.

Seungmin curses as he works a hand between them, fingers curling around the hard shape of Jeongin’s cock through his trousers. “Yeah,” he breathes, “Let hyung…” He makes quick work of the button and zipper, shoving Jeongin’s trousers and underwear out of the way with gratifying impatience.

It’s a tight fit, far from comfortable, but they are both too far gone to really care. With a little wriggling on both of their parts, Seungmin manages to pull Jeongin’s cock free enough to wrap his hand around it. They both groan at the contact and Jeongin’s hips snap forward almost violently as he arches, back bowing, fingers scrabbling for a hold on Seungmin’s shoulders, clutching at the back of his suit jacket.

He comes way too quickly, in less than ten strokes. Seungmin’s thumb circles the head of his cock, pressing down in a way that wrenches a hitching sob from Jeongin’s mouth, wrenches his orgasm from him in a way that he is helpless to stop, shaking through it as he comes all over Seungmin’s knuckles, his rings, the cuff of his jacket, the front of his expensive shirt. Seungmin doesn’t seem to care, his grip loosening only when Jeongin’s hiccupping cries turn pained from the oversensitivity.

Blindly, Jeongin turns his head, mouth open and searching. Seungmin doesn’t make him ask, kissing him deep and hungry, tongue fucking into Jeongin’s mouth like he can’t get enough, even now when he’s already had him. He’s still hard, hissing sharply when Jeongin shifts in his lap, teeth stinging over Jeongin’s bottom lip briefly.

“Stop that,” Seungmin bites out when Jeongin shifts again, this time deliberately. “We’ve already got enough cleaning up to do if we have any chance of leaving here without causing a scandal. And giving Minho-hyung an aneurysm.”

It’s an easy way out; a joke to diffuse tension, to get them back onto normal footing, and maybe Jeongin should take it, should give himself some time to process, but…

“I can take care of that,” he says, voice still hoarse as he pushes himself up on wobbly legs, barely wincing as he tucks himself back into his trousers before immediately folding down to his knees, more of a barely controlled collapse than anything graceful. “Let me,” he says, the curl of his fingers into Seungmin’s waistband leaving little room for misinterpretation.

Seungmin stares down at him, wide-eyed, mouth hanging open, clearly completely taken by surprise, which… Jeongin bristles a little at that. Did Seungmin think he wouldn’t reciprocate? That he was only interested in getting off himself without…?

“Innie…” The sheer wonder in Seungmin’s voice, as if he’s been handed an unexpected gift that he doesn’t think he deserves, wipes all traces of doubt from Jeongin’s mind. Seungmin licks his lips, and his hand comes up to slowly card through Jeongin’s hair. “Have you done this before?” he asks, quiet.

For a second or three Jeongin thinks about lying but Seungmin would see through that immediately. “No.” He shakes his head. Part of him wants to ask if Seungmin has but a bigger part of him doesn’t want to know the answer so he settles on rubbing his cheek against Seungmin’s thigh, the fabric of his trousers high quality enough to feel smooth and soft against his skin. “But I want to.” He looks up at Seungmin through his lashes, lets his mouth drop open, tongue lolling out just a little, a deliberate tease that he’s frankly impressed with himself for being capable of, given how desperately, shamelessly, he wants this.

“Fuck,” Seungmin grits out, his grip in Jeongin’s hair tightening abruptly, making him inhale through his teeth at the sting.

Jeongin has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smirking in victory. There’s something intoxicating, something deeply satisfying, about being able to crack through Seungmin’s control with little more than a heavy-lidded gaze and flutter of his eyelashes. If he’d known it was this easy…

Their fingers tangle in the fastenings of Seungmin’s trousers and Jeongin says nothing about the way Seungmin’s fingers are shaking, not when his own are no better. Seungmin’s cock is… Well, it’s pretty, in a way Jeongin never thought he’d think about this specific part of anyone’s anatomy; it’s slender, thinner than Jeongin’s but probably a bit longer, rosy pink and curving to the left. Jeongin stares at it for long enough for Seungmin to start visibly squirming, his hands twitching as if he’s going to cover himself, and no, nope, absolutely not.

Jeongin knocks Seungmin’s hands out of the way and leans over his lap, fitting his mouth over the head of Seungmin’s dick, his hand around the rest of it. Seungmin chokes on a curse and from his peripheral vision Jeongin can see the way he digs his nails into the meat of his own thigh. Jeongin hums his satisfaction at the sight.

“Oh fuck, Iyen-ah, baby, fuck, your mouth…” Seungmin’s other hand flies back to Jeongin’s hair, not gripping, just cupping the back of his head.

Jeongin pulls off, experimentally drags his tongue over the underside on the way up before sinking back down, and is rewarded by another string of curses, each one even filthier than the last. The taste is not entirely unfamiliar. Jeongin has tasted himself before, because everyone does that, and the same bitterness is there, salty and not entirely unpleasant. And yet, it’s new. Everything about this is new. The ache in his knees, pressed against the hard floorboards. The shocking intimacy of the weight of Seungmin on his tongue, how it stretches his mouth almost to the point of discomfort. The way Jeongin can’t stop drooling, a long string of spit stretching from his mouth to Seungmin’s cock when he pulls up to gasp a breath. It’s obscene and somehow perfect at the same time and Jeongin sinks back down, fast enough to make himself gag, the burn at the back of his throat bringing tears to his eyes, adding to the mess on his face.

He never really gets into a proper rhythm, unable to focus, too caught up in trying every trick he can think of to make Seungmin feel good, make him curl over Jeongin, muscles taut, groaning out his name like it hurts, but like it would hurt more not to say it. Seungmin comes like that anyway, hips jerking up, up, fucking himself deeper into Jeongin’s mouth as he spills, because Jeongin had not had the presence of mind to try and keep him still, not that he’d chosen to even if he had, not when the proof of Jeongin being good, being wanted, is coating the roof of his mouth, his tongue, thick and undeniable.

Afterwards, when Seungmin has tucked himself back into his trousers with a soft, sated noise that lodges itself somewhere behind Jeongin’s breastbone, he has to hide his face against Seungmin’s knees, just for a bit, while he gets his breathing under control. He’s waiting for the panic, for the insecurity, for his mind to spiral down to the whys and what ifs but… It doesn’t come. Seungmin is here. With him. Jeongin had asked him to choose him but he thinks Seungmin already had and Jeongin had just been slow to catch up.

“Iyeh-ah,” Seungmin says. “Baby, look at me.” His hand is gentle as he coaxes Jeongin to tip his head back, gentle when he wipes a smear of semen and saliva from the corner of his mouth, groaning when Jeongin’s tongue instinctively comes out to swipe at the tip of his thumb. “You good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Jeongin says, wincing slightly at how fucked his voice sounds. Good thing they don’t have any performances for a few days because he definitely doesn’t want to explain to Chan-hyung just why he can’t hit the notes with his usual ease. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Seungmin trails off, getting out of the chair and helping Jeongin to his feet too. “I’m really,” he ducks into to brush a kiss over Jeongin’s lips, “really,” and then another one, “really happy.”

Jeongin huffs a laugh because his hyung is being sappy, and maybe he should’ve expected this, but he’d been so caught up in Seungmin’s cocky confidence, the razor-sharp glint of his smile, that he’d somehow forgotten all about his fundamental sweetness. Fuck, he was probably in for some old-fashioned romancing down the line. Oh well, guess he’ll cope.

They find a box of tissues after rummaging around, feeling only moderately bad over going through some innocent hotel manager’s desk, although Seungmin draws a line at leaving them in the wastebasket under it.

“No, absolutely not, I will not leave come-stained tissues for some poor cleaner to have to deal with,” he says, stuffing them into his jacket pockets instead while Jeongin doubles over in laughter. “We’d probably inadvertently ruin someone’s reputation! They’d be caught in a maelstrom of workplace rumours!”

“Maelstrom,” Jeongin mocks, wiping at his eyes, and leans in to kiss Seungmin, slow and thorough, his heart near hurting from happiness.

Their post-coital make-out session is rudely interrupted by first Seungmin’s phone and then Jeongin’s, vibrating insistently in their pockets.

“Minho,” Seungmin says, pulling his phone out.

“And Jisung.” Jeongin eyes his own like it’s about to bite him. “Should I answer?”

“I’ll do it,” Seungmin sighs.

Minho’s voice is audible through the speakers, and even though Jeongin can’t make out individual words, he can make out the irritated cadence of them just fine

“Yes. Yes, hyung. I’m fine.” Seungmin is blushing, but he still rolls his eyes at Jeongin in a way that is familiar from countless shared times of being in the receiving end of their hyungs’ ire and caretaking, the two often indistinguishable from each other. “We’ll be right there,” Seungmin says, eyes flicking to Jeongin. “Jeongin,” he says, in response to Minho’s obvious question. “He’s here,” Seungmin’s voice is firm and his hand where it tangles with Jeongin’s is warm and sure. “With me.”

Jeongin grins, wide and joyous because yes, yes he is.

***

A few weeks later finds Jeongin chilling in his room, scrolling through animal videos on YouTube and bookmarking all the ones that he can later send to his members with ‘it you!’ tagged to the end. He’s not exactly staying up late just to wait for Seungmin to come back home but he’s not not doing that either. Like, if his boyfriend – and yes, the thrill of that hasn’t gone away and probably never will and Jeongin refuses to feel anything but smug about it – just happens to feel like knocking on his door when he finally returns from whatever MC gig he’d foolishly said yes to this time, then Jeongin plans on being awake to hear it. They’ve all had a few days of individual schedules, and he hasn’t seen Seungmin properly for aeons. And by ‘properly’ he means ‘long enough to find somewhere private to do private things’ and by ‘aeons’ he means ‘coming up to four days now’ which is an accurate definition in his books.

So, for now, Jeongin is killing time with videos and social media and enjoying the rare moment of having no other demands on his time. He’s expecting the memes on the group chat Jisung sends, he’s expecting the frankly indecent gym selfie that Changbin shares and Chan immediately forbids him from posting publicly, and he’s even expecting it when Minho pokes his head through the doorway and asks if Jeongin has had dinner yet (the answer is yes, which earns him an approving nod from Minho). What he is not expecting, however, is Seungmin pushing his door open hard enough that it bounces off the wall, startling Jeongin so badly he drops his phone on his face in his haste to scramble up.

“Hyung? What…?”

“This!” Seungmin talks right over him. “What is this?” He’s waving his phone in the air as if Jeongin is supposed to know what that signifies.

Seungmin looks… Well, he looks good, like always, and especially now, having clearly come back from filming something or other, hair artfully tousled and at least one extra button on his shirt unbuttoned than he’d normally go for. Jeongin may be staring a bit but that’s fine, he’s allowed now. Encouraged even. The point is that Seungmin has clearly left in a hurry, without bothering to change before heading home.

Couple that with the frankly wild look in his eyes, the kind of slightly crazed gleam that makes Jeongin shift awkwardly on the bed, and, well, it’s enough to make him worry.

“What do you mean?” Jeongin asks. “Has something happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Seungmin hisses, striding into the room like it’s his and all but kicking the door shut behind him. Jeongin swallows and then swallows again when Seungmin flips the lock on the door without taking his eyes off Jeongin. “And no, I am not okay.”

“What… I don’t…” Seungmin isn’t making any sense. He’s clearly distressed but not in a sad way so Jeongin is pretty sure nothing truly terrible has happened, but beyond that he has no clue.

“This!” Seungmin repeats, stalking to the bed and leaning close until he’s full-on looming. It should not make Jeongin light up like a firework, every cell in his body coming to attention because Seungmin’s attention is so clearly, obviously, on him.

“Yang Jeongin.” Seungmin’s voice has gone tight, like he’s trying very hard not to shout. “Kindly explain to me what. the. fuck. you think you’re doing?” He thrusts his phone in front of Jeongin’s face and holds it still enough for Jeongin to finally be able to see that what’s gotten Seungmin so worked up is… a message from Felix with nothing but a link in.

Jeongin raises his eyebrows questioningly and Seungmin makes a wordless noise of frustration, stabs a finger over the link which opens up to a video of…

Oh.

Oh, it’s Jeongin.

Or more to the point, it’s a video compilation of clips of him. Jeongin doesn’t need to try and parse the English title to get the theme. Every clip is him on the stage, dance practice, sometimes just in a photoshoot and every clip… Well. In every clip Jeongin sticks his tongue out, sometimes just touching the corner of his mouth, sometimes licking over his bottom lip as if by accident, sometimes trapping his tongue between his teeth playfully, while the rest of his face cycles through a variety of expressions from faux innocent to outright wicked, and…

And Jeongin thinks he should maybe feel embarrassed but one look at Seungmin wipes all that clear.

“Uhh…” He says, intelligently. “I was… trying a thing?” He looks up at Seungmin, takes in the way his eyes are blown wide, the flush colouring his cheeks, running all the way down to the open collar of shirt, and rapidly re-evaluates the last couple of minutes of their interaction.

A slow smirk starts to work its way out and Jeongin doesn’t fight it. It feels good.

The way Seungmin’s eyes narrow in response feels better.

“A thing?” Seungmin asks. His voice cracks a little. The phone in his hand is tossed carelessly onto the bedside table.

Jeongin grins widely now. He feels like he’s going to float off, a giddy feeling of being wanted, this blatantly, bubbling inside him. “Yes, hyung,” he says, and bats his eyelashes. “It’s… It’s not a problem, is it?” he asks, and then, because he can, because he wants to and because he knows Seungmin wants him to, he pokes his tongue out, just a bit, just the tip.

“Your face is a problem,” Seungmin growls. And then he tackles Jeongin onto the bed.

Which, it turns out, is something neither of them has a problem with.
 

***

Comments

[pushkin666]

Oh yes, I was very happy to make enthusiastic noises on this. Gonna download and read it later.

[kat_lair]

I mean you have already read it but I guess AO3 offers a better formatted download :D Enjoy!