Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

November 23, 2022

“Junmin,” Minjae’s voice cut through the track, sharper than the music. “You’re off.”

The music cut with a suddenness that made several of them flinch. Yechan leaned forward, hands on his knees, panting. Seeun groaned under his breath. Jinsik took a long swig from his water bottle, then tossed it across the floor without looking.

Junmin froze mid-pose, blinking away sweat. “What?”

“You’re late on the drop. Every time.” Minjae stood with his arms folded, expression flat, the heel of his foot tapping against the floor in a way Junmin recognized immediately. Irritation. Like Junmin was an obstacle.

“I wasn’t late,” Junmin said, more calmly than he felt. “That was the tempo from yesterday’s session. The one we all agreed on.”

“No,” Minjae replied, voice clipped. “We adjusted it. You were there.”

Junmin felt his pulse quicken, a heat blooming in his chest that had nothing to do with dancing. “No one said we locked that version in.”

“I did.” Minjae walked toward the speaker, fiddling with the laptop. “And Sumin backed it. We even counted it out last night.”

“Did you tell me that?” Junmin asked, crossing his arms. “Because I don’t remember having that conversation.”

“You were literally standing right next to me.”

Junmin turned to Sumin, who looked caught mid-stretch, eyes wide. “Did we agree on that change?”

Sumin blinked like someone had just turned a spotlight on him. “Uh… I think we talked about it. Kinda briefly.”

Minjae gave a humorless laugh. “Not ‘kinda.’ We said it. Clearly. You just weren’t paying attention.”

Junmin’s stomach twisted. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. A dozen sharp retorts gathered on the tip of his tongue like birds on a wire, ready to fly.

Why was Minjae doing this? More importantly, why here? Why in front of the kids?

They could’ve fixed this in private. Talk through it, like they usually did- after the kids went back to the dorm, or even just quietly in the corner like they do when they don’t have time. But this? This felt almost purposeful. Like a performance. 

Junmin clenched his jaw, trying to stay calm. “You didn’t have to call me out in front of everyone.”

“You were off. Everyone saw it.”

“You could’ve said it differently.”

“What do you want me to do, Junmin?” Minjae snapped, finally looking at him fully. “Pretend you didn’t fuck up so your pride doesn’t take a hit?”

Junmin felt something in his chest snap like a loose string being pulled too tight. “Wow,” he said, the smile curling on his lips completely fake. “So that’s what we’re doing now.”

Minjae didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look away. That irritated tapping of his heel had stopped, but the tension in his shoulders only got worse.

“You think I’m the one with the pride problem?” Junmin continued, low and sharp, walking toward the speaker. “You’ve been nitpicking me since we got here.”

“You’re making it personal,” Minjae said.

“It sure as hell feels personal,” Junmin shot back. “You’re not talking to Sumin like this. Or Seeun. Just me.”

Minjae’s jaw flexed, but he still didn’t answer.

The silence stretched too long, too uncomfortable. A single bead of sweat slid down Junmin’s temple and into the corner of his eye, but he didn’t move to wipe it. He was too focused on the flicker of something in Minjae’s eyes- anger, maybe. Or guilt. But Junmin didn’t know which one would be worse. 

“You want to go again?” Junmin asked, voice thick now, still holding onto the last shreds of composure. “Let’s go again. I’ll fix it. No point in arguing with the leader, right guys?”

The room didn’t move. 

Junmin let out a breath through his nose, sharp and bitter. “What? Nothing to say now?”

Silence.

Minjae still hadn’t moved. He stood by the speaker, posture too stiff, eyes hard- but Junmin knew him. Knew the way his fingers curled slightly when he was holding back. The way his brow twitched, just a little, when guilt tried to break through.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just stared.

“I’m serious,” Junmin went on, laughing under his breath. “Let’s do it again. I’ll adjust to your tempo this time. Hell, maybe I’ll even hit it right, and you won’t have to humiliate me again.”

Minjae’s jaw tightened, but still, nothing came out. Not a word, not a flinch. Just that same unreadable stare that Junmin was starting to see more often these days. And he hated it. Because it wasn’t just blank. No, Junmin knew blank. He’d seen Minjae’s real ‘shut down’ face a hundred times over, after long practices and even longer meetings. This wasn’t that look. 

This was Minjae holding something back. 

The others still hadn’t said a word, barely dared to shift, as if moving would shatter whatever fragile thread was still holding the atmosphere together.

“I’m not doing this,” Minjae finally muttered. The words came slow, flat. “Not here.”

Junmin stared at him, stunned. “Not- not here? ” he laughed. “So now you care where we do this?”

Minjae’s jaw worked. He looked down at the laptop again, hands braced on either side of the table. “We have a schedule.”

“Yeah, and you decided five minutes ago that what I needed was to be torn apart in front of everyone- again ,” Junmin hissed, stepping forward. His voice stayed low, venomously soft. “But now that I’m the one reacting, suddenly you want to be professional?”

Minjae’s head snapped up at that. There was something behind his eyes now- less guarded, more exposed. His voice dropped too. “You think I enjoy fighting with you?”

“I think you’re really fucking good at starting it.”

Junmin hadn’t meant to say it. Not like that. But the words spilled out before he could stop them. His heart was pounding from weeks of quiet jabs and forced smiles. Of not being kissed goodbye after late practices. Of Minjae brushing him off in the name of work, and then making Junmin feel like the selfish one for missing him.

And now here they were.

Minjae inhaled deeply, and for a second, Junmin thought he might finally snap, not just the clipped, leader-mode irritation that he usually defaulted to. But instead, Minjae closed his eyes and turned, walking toward the others. 

“Take ten,” he said, not even sparring a glance back. “Go get water. Fresh air. I don’t care. Just go.”

Yujun glanced nervously between the two of them. “Hyung, I don’t thin-”

“Out, Yujun.” 

The room shuffled reluctantly. Yechan mumbled something under his breath, Junmin caught the word “awkward,” as he dragged his feet toward the door. Jinsik picked up his bottle with a dramatic sigh and was the first to leave, not even pretending to hide his relief. Seeun lingered a second longer, his mouth pressed into a thin line, but one glance from Minjae was enough to send him scurrying out after the others.

The door clicked shut. The silence that followed was thick, suffocating.

Junmin didn’t move. Neither did Minjae.

The air felt colder without the others’ body heat, but Junmin’s skin still burned.

“Happy?” Junmin asked, arms still crossed. “You got your audience out of the way. So what now, Minjae? You gonna tell me what this is actually about, or are we gonna keep pretending it was just about practice?”

Minjae didn’t answer right away. He rolled his shoulders once, as if trying to loosen something wound too tight beneath his skin. His back was still to Junmin, and that alone irritated him more than anything else. The lack of eye contact. The refusal to meet him where he was.

“I told you,” Minjae said slowly. “You were off.”

“No,” Junmin snapped. “You say it’s that. But you’ve been taking shots at me for weeks . Every little thing. Do you even hear yourself?”

Minjae finally turned, his expression unreadable again- except now Junmin could see the anger in his eyes. Controlled, for now. But barely.

“I hear myself just fine. You’re the one who doesn’t listen.”

“Bullshit,” Junmin said, stepping forward, hands clenched at his sides. “I do listen. I bend over backwards to listen to you. I show up early, I adjust on the fly, I keep my mouth shut when you’re micromanaging everything down to the goddamn angle of my neck. And for what? So you can look at me like I’m one of the kids and not your fucking-”

He caught himself, but he could see Minjae’s gaze soften anyways. Even just a little bit.

“I didn’t mean to humiliate you,” Minjae said at last. “But I won’t apologize for expecting more from you.”

“That’s the thing,” Junmin said, stepping in close enough to drop his voice. “You don’t expect more from me. You expect perfection. Every time. You don’t treat me like your boyfriend anymore, you treat me like a liability.”

Junmin felt his anger start to ebb away, drained by the reminder that this was what his once loving relationship turned into. His hands slowly unfurled at his sides, fingers trembling just slightly. The fight had emptied out of him all at once. 

“I’m not trying to fight with you,” he said, softer now. Quieter. “I’m tired, Minjae. I’m really tired.”

Minjae’s expression flickered. “Then why-”

“Because I don’t know what we are anymore,” Junmin said, cutting him off wearily. “And every time I try to bring it up, you act like I’m making it worse.”

Minjae said nothing.

Junmin’s voice thinned at the edges, like paper that had been folded too many times. “Do you even like me anymore?”

Minjae blinked. “That’s such a stupid question.”

“I’m serious.” Junmin didn’t look away. “Because I can’t tell. I wake up next to you and I don’t know if I should say good morning or just leave quietly. You don’t kiss me after rehearsals. You barely even look at me unless something’s wrong.”

Minjae’s jaw tensed, but he stayed quiet, like he couldn’t decide whether to deny it or admit it.

“And I know things are hard right now,” Junmin continued, voice shaking slightly, “but it feels like you’re mad at me all the time. Like I have to earn your attention just to not get pushed away.”

“That’s not true,” Minjae said, too fast.

“No?” Junmin asked, still calm, still quiet. “You don’t smile at me anymore. You don’t laugh at my dumb jokes. You barely even look at me unless I’ve done something wrong.” His voice cracked, brittle at the edges. “You used to look at me like I was your favorite part of the day. Now I feel like I’m just another thing you have to manage.”

Minjae opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but Junmin beat him to it. 

“Are you embarrassed of us?” The thought had been rotting in the back of his head for days now, and he’d been trying to find any reason to not believe them. 

Minjae flinched, blinking at him. “What?”

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Junmin questioned, backing up a step, like he was about to bolt out of the door. “You don’t want them to know. You don’t want anyone to know. That’s what you said when we started all of this. Is it that embarrassing to be with me?”

Minjae recoiled slightly, as if the accusation physically struck him. “No. Junmin, no. That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Junmin demanded, voice cracking with frustration. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you’ve been pulling away more and more ever since we decided not to tell the others.”

“I’m not hiding you!” Minjae snapped, his voice finally rising, raw with exasperation. “This isn’t about being embarrassed, it’s about protecting us.”

“From what?” Junmin scoffed. “From them? They’re not idiots, Minjae. You think they haven’t noticed the way you treat me now? Like if they see you looking at me too long, they’ll figure it out and what-what’s the worst-case scenario here? That they know you care about me?”

Minjae ran a hand through his hair, visibly unraveling. “You don’t get it. We don’t know these guys well enough yet to tell them, we don’t know what they’ll do.”

“Minjae, we practically raised Yechan! We’ve known him for years , and you won’t even let him know!”

Minjae ran a hand through his hair, pacing a short distance before turning to face Junmin again. “You don’t get it. It’s not just about Yechan. It’s all of them. We don’t really know these guys yet. We’ve trained with them, sure, but trusting them with this?” He gestured vaguely between the two of them. “This is different.”

Junmin frowned. “We’ve lived with them. We’ve slept in the same beds as them, we’ve treated them like family for months. If we don’t know them by now, then when the hell will we?”

“That’s not the same as trusting them with something that could ruin all of us if it got out,” Minjae snapped. “What if they say something? What if someone leaks it? One wrong comment and it’s over . For us. For the team. Everything.”

“So you don’t trust them.” Junmin’s voice was quiet, but cutting.

Minjae hesitated. “I trust them to show up to practice. To do the job. But this?” Again, that vague gesture. “This isn’t part of the job. This is our lives, this is…”

“This is what, Minjae? Our problem to deal with?” 

They both went silent, and Junmin could see how Minjae was trying to find a way to explain himself, but he didn’t want to hear it anymore. He let out a shaky breath. “You know… When we first started dating… It was good. Like really good.”

Minjae didn’t respond, but Junmin could see his hands twitching. 

“I used to think about you all day. Couldn’t wait to see you after practice. We’d sit in the studio and just… Talk. Sometimes not even about anything important. You’d pull me out during breaks just to kiss me-”

Junmin’s voice cracked slightly, and he smiled, but it was sad and bitter. “And then more trainees were added. And the team started to take shape. The stakes got higher because we found out we finally made it. I understood where you came from, the pressure, the fear of ruining everything we’ve worked hard on.” He laughed under his breath, but there was no humor in it. “So I sat back. I let you pull away when they told you that you’d be the leader. I got over you not pulling me out anymore, I let you act like we were just friends.” 

His voice turned sharper. “But then it stopped being about distance. You started picking at me. Calling me out. Only me. And I told myself you were just stressed. That you needed space. That if I kept being patient, you’d come back around.”

Junmin took a slow step forward, eyes never leaving Minjae. “But you didn’t. You got colder. And it stopped feeling like you were protecting us and started feeling like you were punishing me.”

Minjae looked away.

“And the worst part is… I let you.” His voice was quieter now, but it carried more weight than anything he’d said before. “I let you treat me like I was a liability. Like I was fragile. Like I was in the way. And I understood, at first. I did. Because I knew you were scared. I was too. I didn’t want to lose this either. The group. The dream. Us .”

Minjae’s eyes flicked back toward him, and there was something in them now. Regret, maybe. Or fear. But Junmin didn’t give him space to interrupt. “But at some point, it stopped being about protecting us. And it started becoming about control. About keeping me small so I wouldn’t be noticed. So I wouldn’t be yours in any way that might make someone uncomfortable.”

Minjae opened his mouth, then closed it. The words, whatever they were, got lost somewhere behind his teeth. He looked at Junmin, really looked at him for the first time that night. Junmin could feel the weight of that look, the subtle shift in the air. For a moment, he let himself hope.

But, Junmin let out a shaky sigh and the hope crumbled. He knew what he had to say, and it felt like pulling teeth. “Maybe we should take a break,” Junmin said, the words barely a whisper.

Minjae’s eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected it. “What?”

“A break,” ironically, Junmin’s voice cracked that time, he gestured between them. “I-I mean… We’re both miserable doing this, and-” Junmin ran his hands down his face, trying to wipe the tears that had started falling. “Maybe some time apart can fix us. If we just wait until we debut, maybe we’ll be okay.”

Minjae looked gutted, like Junmin had knocked the wind completely out of his lungs. “You don’t mean tha-” 

Junmin didn’t wait. He couldn’t. Not when everything inside him felt like it was on the verge of splintering. He took a slow, shaky breath, turned toward the mirrors, and pressed the heel of his hand against his eye, trying to get the tears under control. “I do. Minjae, I love you, I have stood by you and your decisions for years now, but I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to ‘trust’ these boys that are supposed to be our team. None of them have ever given us any reason to not trust them, they’ve been nothing but kind and reliable since the day-” 

The door opened again, promptly shutting Junmin up as he froze. Jinsik stepped in first, he stopped when he saw the redness around Junmin’s eyes. But before he could say anything, Junmin straightened out. “We’re fine,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t even make it to his eyes. “You guys can come back in.”

The others trickled in slowly, cautious and quiet. Yechan lingered near the door before following Jinsik inside. Seeun muttered something to Yujun under his breath. No one asked what had just happened. But Junmin could feel the shift in the room. They knew.

Junmin rolled his shoulders back. “Let’s run it again.”

Minjae gave a tight nod and hit play.

They went through the routine. Once. Twice.

Junmin danced like nothing had happened, hitting every beat, his breathing was steady, his eyes fixed on the mirror. Like muscle memory had taken over. Like the ache in his chest could be danced out of him.

But Minjae couldn’t stop watching him.

He didn’t say anything about the tempo. Didn’t nitpick the transitions. He just stood at the back, quiet, watching Junmin like he finally understood what he had just lost.

They got through two run-throughs, and then, halfway into a third, Minjae finally broke, he paused the track. “We’re ending here.”

Everyone froze again.

“We’re done?”

Minjae nodded once, eyes not moving from Junmin. “Yeah. Go home.”

Jinsik opened his mouth, maybe to push back, but then thought better of it. They filed out slower this time, glancing between the two of them, but no one said anything. Just quiet footsteps and the soft click of the door closing behind them.

Junmin stayed by the mirror, still catching his breath, his reflection hazy with sweat and exhaustion and something much heavier. “Good night, Minjae.” He muttered softly, then he was gone. Just picked up his bag, threw his sweater over his shoulder and walked out.

Chapter Text

November 28, 2022

The dorm was unusually quiet for a Monday night. Usually, someone would be yelling over a video game, or Junmin would be cooking something for the dorm. But tonight, the living room lights were off, the kitchen was empty, and the only noise in the house was Yechan working on music in his room. 

Yujun lingered in the hallway, barefoot and fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie, eyeing Junmin’s door as he debated going in. 

It had been five days. Five days of Junmin haunting the dorm like a ghost, wandering around quietly instead of his usual banter with the members. He tried to act as normal as possible, but it was hard when he couldn’t even manage to be in the same room as Minjae for more than five minutes without feeling like his heart was being ripped from his chest. 

He was silent during practice, dancing and staying late until he felt like he’d disappear into the floor. Even Minjae had stopped calling him out. He just watched, quiet and careful, like he was afraid any sudden movement might cause Junmin to shatter into pieces in front of everyone. 

Yujun stood there for a moment longer, chewing his bottom lip and listening to Yechan’s distant hum a few doors down. When he finally found it in him to knock, he was met with silence. He tried again, a little firmer this time. “Hyung?” he called, his voice careful. “Can I come in?”

Still no answer. Yujun hesitated, then slowly pushed the door open. 

The room was dim, lit only by the hazy orange glow of the streetlight bleeding through the blinds. Junmin laid curled on his bed, hoodie from practice still on, hunched over with his back to the door. His phone was clutched tightly in both hands, and from the shake of his shoulders, Yujun could already tell that something was wrong, not just the kind of bad mood Junmin sometimes got into when practice had gone to hell. 

Yujun stepped inside cautiously, his toes curling against the cool wooden floor. “Hyung?”

Junmin didn’t move. His fingers stayed tight around his phone, knuckles pale, and his back rose and fell in uneven, trembling breaths. The sound of a choked inhale broke the silence, so faint that Yujun almost didn’t catch it.

Yujun swallowed. “Hyung, are you okay?”

That got a reaction. Junmin let out a broken noise, something between a laugh and a sob, and buried his face in the pillow. His shoulders shook harder, the phone slipping from his hands and landing on the comforter with a quiet thud . Yujun caught a glimpse of the screen before it dimmed.

A text thread. 

Yujun tried not to be nosey, he really did, but the words stood out to him and he blinked in mild confusion. “Hyun-”

“Yujunnie,” Junmin interrupted, “Has Minjae said anything to you guys?”

Yujun froze at the question.

“Minjae-hyung?” he repeated cautiously. “What do you mean?”

Junmin laughed again, bitter and slightly breathless. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his hoodie, not that it helped much. His voice cracked as he said, “It’s a yes or no, Yujun. Has he said anything about me? Anything at all?”

Yujun hesitated. He thought back to the last few days, the way Minjae kept his head down in practice, how he glanced at Junmin when he thought no one was looking, how he’d gone unusually quiet in group chats and disappeared to the studio a few nights in a row. But none of that made sense. None of it connected.

“No,” Yujun admitted softly. “He hasn’t said anything. Why?”

Junmin nodded once, like that somehow confirmed the worst of what he’d been spiraling about. His hands curled into fists, knuckles still raw from who knew how many nights of clenching them too tightly. “Right,” he said hoarsely. “Of course not.”

Yujun shifted closer, uneasy. “Hyung, what’s going on?”

Junmin gave a shaky exhale, shoulders trembling. “You really had no clue, did you?” He wasn’t looking at Yujun anymore, just staring blankly at the crumpled bedsheets beneath him like they held some kind of answer.

“About what?” Yujun’s voice came out quieter than he meant it to, edged with something unfamiliar in the younger’s voice.

Junmin’s laugh came out sharp and bitter. “Ah, nothing. Nothing at all, Yujunnie.”

Yujun didn’t buy it. “Hyung,” he said gently, “you don’t get to cry into your pillow and then tell me it’s nothing.”

Junmin let out a shaky breath. “I told him we needed to stop. Just for now. Until after debut. I thought… if we still wanted it then, we could figure it out.”

“Figure… What out? Hyung, I’m confused.”

The older turned over, finally facing Yujun. “Our anniversary was supposed to be in two weeks.” 

Yujun let in a sharp breath, he stared at Junmin, the words settling in slowly. “Your… anniversary?” he repeated, slower this time. 

Junmin gave a weak nod, eyes red and slightly distant. “Mhm.”

“You were- Since when?”

“Last year. December 9th.”

“Holy…” Yujun sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, like his legs couldn’t quite hold him up anymore. “You’re serious?”

Junmin let out a tired, humorless laugh. “Yeah. I didn’t just imagine a whole relationship, Yujunnie.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…” Yujun shook his head, at a loss. “You two were so normal around us. You didn’t even slip up once.”

“He didn’t want you guys to know,” Junmin said quietly. “We didn’t know you guys well enough. He didn’t trust you yet.”

Yujun frowned, watching the older boy wipe at his eyes again with the sleeve of his hoodie. “You do?”

Junmin smiled faintly at that, the kind that barely lifted the corners of his mouth but still held something real beneath it. “You’ve never given me a reason not to,” he said softly. “You’re… my kids, practically. We’re the oldest. We’re supposed to take care of you. I’ve seen you at your worst and your weirdest and your most annoying, and I still love you guys.”

Yujun’s chest tightened. There was something so heartbreakingly sincere about the way Junmin said it, not like he was trying to convince anyone, just stating a truth that lived in his bones.

“Minjae… Needed more time. He still does. So I just… gave it to him.” Junmin’s voice lowered again, “I-I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he really did love me at one point.”

“You don’t think he still does?”

“I think he does, but I don’t know if he likes me anymore. I don’t know if he likes being with me enough to deal with the stress of it.”

Yujun was quiet for a long moment, turning over Junmin’s words in his head. He glanced down at his hands in his lap, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “That’s not the same thing,” he said eventually. “Liking someone and loving someone. They’re not the same, but they’re not opposites either.”

Junmin let out a bitter breath. “It doesn’t matter if they’re not opposites. You can love someone and still leave them.”

Yujun looked up, eyes soft but steady. “You can also love someone and come back to them.”

Junmin’s eyes flicked toward the ceiling, blinking hard. “That’s the problem, I don’t think he will come back to me.”

Yujun’s heart clenched at the vulnerability in Junmin’s voice. The older looked smaller somehow, less like the steady hyung everyone counted on, and more like someone barely holding himself together.

“Maybe,” Yujun said slowly, “But that doesn’t mean you should lock yourself in your room, it’s only going to hurt more doing this.”

“I can’t even look at him right now, how am I supposed to go out there and pretend everything’s fine? You’re not even supposed to know about any of this, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Yujun hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching thick between them. Slowly, Yujun moved closer and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly beneath his weight, and for a long moment neither of them spoke. Junmin’s shoulders shook with uneven breaths, his back still turned away from the door. The hoodie from practice was bunched up beneath him, and Yujun’s eyes caught the way Junmin’s fingers curled tightly, white-knuckled, against the sheet.

Without thinking, Yujun reached out, letting his hand fall gently over Junmin’s. His fingers brushed against the cold, trembling skin, curling carefully around Junmin’s clenched hand. The older boy didn’t pull away. If anything, his fingers twitched, loosening just enough to meet Yujun’s hold.

“I’ll stay quiet,” Yujun said after a long pause, his voice low, steady but soft. The words felt fragile as they left his lips, but somehow firm. “I have my own secrets I have to keep too.”

Junmin didn’t respond at first. Instead, he swallowed hard, a quiet breath that caught somewhere deep in his chest.

Yujun squeezed Junmin’s hand just a little, careful not to be too sudden. “I get it,” he finally said, eyes fixed on the hand they were holding. “Being scared. Not wanting everyone to know. Not trusting who you are around enough to say it out loud.”

Another long moment passed between them. Junmin’s fingers twitched again, brushing lightly against Yujun’s palm, and something unspoken passed in that small movement.

Yujun shifted closer, letting his shoulder brush against Junmin’s. “It’s not easy,” he said quietly. “I understand where you’re coming from. I’m scared, too.”

Junmin’s head finally turned just a little, enough to catch Yujun’s face in the dim light. His eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, searched Yujun’s with a hesitant curiosity, like trying to find a truth hidden beneath the words.

“You…” Junmin’s voice cracked, barely audible, “You’re also…?”

Yujun didn’t say anything right away, just gulped quietly, eye flickering away before meeting Junmin’s again. “I think so,” he said after a moment, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ve tried not to think too much about it. But… Yeah. You don’t have to worry about me saying anything.”

The silence between them stretched, long and heavy, but no longer unbearable. Junmin laid still on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Yujun remained beside him, their hands still loosely clasped between them, fingers faintly intertwined now. There was something grounding about the contact, something that made the air feel less suffocating.

Junmin blinked slowly, the shadows from the streetlight above tracing lines across his face. After a moment, he asked, voice low and even, “When did you know?”

Yujun froze. His thumb stopped its absent movement over Junmin’s hand. For a moment, Junmin wondered if the younger boy had heard him. But then Yujun shifted slightly, just enough for Junmin to catch the tension that coiled up in his shoulders.

“I…” Yujun started, and then stopped, the word trailing into silence.

Junmin glanced over, brow furrowing. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Yujun was quiet for another moment before he whispered, “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just… don’t want the answer to upset you.”

Junmin turned to look at him, his voice soft, careful. “It won’t upset me. Is it one of the members?”

There was a beat, then Yujun let out a shaky breath that might’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t so nervous.

He brought his free hand up to cover his face. “God,” he muttered, fingers dragging through his hair, “it’s probably the worst one I could’ve had a crush on.”

Junmin blinked, confused at first. Then realization hit, soft, slow, and melancholic.

“Minjae,” he said, more a breath than a question.

Yujun didn’t answer. He just groaned and let his face fall against the pillow, the tips of his ears turning red in the dim light. His hand twitched in Junmin’s like he meant to pull away, but Junmin didn’t let him. He held it gently, not tight, not pressing, just enough to keep him there.

Yujun finally mumbled into the pillow, “I’m sorry, hyung. I didn’t know you two were… y’know.”

Junmin didn’t respond right away. The quiet stretched again, not cold this time, just hesitant. His fingers stayed loosely laced with Yujun’s, the warmth of the younger’s skin grounding him, steadying the ache in his chest.

“I’m not mad at you,” Junmin said finally, voice hoarse but soft. “It’s not like you did anything wrong.”

Yujun shifted, turning his face slightly so his voice wouldn’t be muffled by the pillow. “Still… It feels wrong.” He let out a nervous laugh. “It’s not even a real crush, just like a stupid little puppy thing. I know he probably just sees me as a kid, which is completely fair, but I don’t know… He was just nice to me, and I liked that.”

Junmin let out a breath, quiet and thoughtful. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s how he gets you.”

Yujun let out a quiet snort, the sound muffled into the pillow. “No kidding.”

Junmin gave the barest hint of a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but at least felt like a step away from the edge. “He doesn’t mean to,” he said, voice distant again. “He just… has this way of making you feel like you matter. Even when you don’t think you do.”

Yujun was quiet at that, their hands still resting between them. His thumb moved again, “I think he still cares about you,” he said, the words slow, like he wasn’t sure if he should be saying them. “Even if he doesn’t know what to say right now. He looked wrecked the other day when you didn’t come to dinner.”

Junmin didn’t answer, but the way his breath caught said enough.

“I hope you two can work things out. I don’t… I don’t want either of you hurting.”

Chapter Text

February 3, 2023

The studio door slammed shut behind Minjae hard enough to make the soundproof panels on the wall rattle. The hum of the computer was the only thing that filled the silence for the first few seconds before Junmin spun around from the couch, jaw already tight. 

“Are you seriously going to keep storming off every time we talk?” He snapped. 

Minjae was still wearing his coat, eyes sharp, movements jerky as he dropped his phone onto the desk. “You weren’t talking, Junmin. You’re accusing me, again.” 

Junmin laughed once, dry and humorless. “God, you are so good at twisting things.”

Minjae narrowed his eyes. “Don’t start. Not again. Not after this morning.”

“Oh, you mean when you called me childish in front of the kids because I didn’t want to redo a choreo segment at seven a.m. after staying up all night learning the new bridge?” Junmin stood up, arms crossed tightly. “Yeah, that was really supportive of you.”

“You were being childish,” Minjae snapped, turning to face him now. “This isn’t just about you anymore. We have a group to carry, and the rest of us showed up ready.”

“I’m always ready!” Junmin shot back, voice rising. “You just can’t stand that you can’t control me anymore!”

Minjae let out a breath that sounded like it was trying very hard not to be a scream. “This is what you do. You act like every time I push you, I’m trying to hurt you-”

Junmin interrupted, voice sharp and loud. “You are! You don’t push anyone else the way you do me.”

“That’s because I know what you’re capable of!” Minjae yelled, eyes burning. “I know how good you are and you settle for half of it! You’ve been holding back since you-” He stopped short, like he realized he’d said too much.

Junmin’s voice dropped to a cold murmur. “Say it.”

Minjae looked away.

“Say it, Minjae.” Junmin stepped forward, tension radiating from every part of him. “You’ve been punishing me since I called for the break. What’s one more punishment added to the list?”

“I’m not punishing you,” Minjae bit out, but it was weak. “I’m trying to keep this damn group from falling apart.”

“Like you give a fuck about the group right now-” Junmin laughed bitterly. “You care about control. That’s all it ever is with you. You think if you push me hard enough, I’ll fall right back in line. Just like before.”

“That’s not true.”

“You act like this whole group is going to fall apart just because we-” Junmin stopped himself, breathing hard. “You don’t want anyone to know because you’re scared. You’re ashamed.”

Minjae recoiled. “I’m not ashamed of you, how many times do I have to say that?”

“Then why do you act like this? Why does every single conversation feel like that’s the case?”

“Because it’s not just about us anymore!” Minjae shouted. “We have people we have to take care of. There are cameras following us everywhere now, Junmin.”

“And you think you’re the only one who gets to decide what’s worth protecting?” Junmin’s voice cracked. “We’re not even the only queer people in the group. They should get a say too.”

Minjae’s face changed, sharp confusion cutting through the anger. “What?”

Junmin froze.

Minjae took a step forward, cautious but pointed. “Junmin. What did you just say?”

“I-” Junmin’s eyes darted away. “Forget it. I didn’t mean-”

“Baby-” Minjae started, and Junmin almost flinched back at the unfamiliar sound of it. “Who are you talking about?”

Junmin swallowed hard, shaking his head like he could rewind the last ten seconds just by refusing to acknowledge them. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“But you did ,” Minjae said, voice lower now, less angry, more careful, like he was also afraid of what Junmin had just said. “Did one of them tell you that?”

Silence. 

“Did one of the kids tell you that?” Minjae urged gently, no judgement, just slight panic. 

Junmin felt like his ribs were collapsing, he didn’t know how to get himself out of this. This wasn’t something he could just laugh off and say he was joking about, because he’d said it out of desperation, in hopes that maybe Minjae wouldn’t think too hard into it. And now, the older boy is pleading with him, and Junmin has never been good at telling Minjae ‘no.’

“You know I wouldn’t say anything,” Minjae said, trying to get close to Junmin, who just backed away again. 

Junmin swallowed thickly. “You know- -” his voice broke. He started again, quieter. “It wasn't my place to say that, Minjae.”

Minjae’s eyes traced his face, and Junmin almost felt like he’d break then and there. “Junmin,” the older started, voice gentler now, “Is it someone we should be worried about? You don’t have to give me a name. But is he safe?”

Junmin closed his eyes. He hated the question, not because it wasn’t fair, but because it was. And it shouldn’t be something they’re worried about, but it is. And Minjae’s always known how to get even the smallest bit of information from him, even if he wants to keep it to himself. 

“He’s okay,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper. 

Minjae let out a slow breath, “Okay…” He said gently, “Okay, I trust your judgement.” Minjae went quiet for a moment. “Did he tell you because he was afraid? Or was it just… A conversation?”

Junmin’s lips parted like he was about to deny it again, but then he let out a short, almost exhausted sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. “No. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t like that.” He paused, voice softer now, almost bitter with disbelief. “It was just… a conversation. Late night. Stupid stuff. You know how the guys are when they get tired.”

The room had quieted again, the fight drained from both of them like a fuse had burned out.

Minjae ran a hand down his face, breath coming slow. “So… it wasn’t fear. That’s good. Means he trusted you enough.”

Junmin didn’t respond right away. His arms were crossed tightly, his shoulders hunched like he was bracing for something sharp. “He did,” he said at last, voice low. “Too much.”

“God…” Minjae let out a soft breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t be nosey, I get it. I do. I just-” he hesitated, gaze drifting toward the floor. “It’s just hard not to worry. Especially with the younger ones.”

Junmin’s jaw twitched. “He’s not a child.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It sure as hell sounds like it.”

Minjae flinched, just slightly. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, more careful now, quieter. “I just meant… they’re younger. This industry is already going to be hard enough on them, it matters how we go about this.”

Junmin was still tense, eyes fixed somewhere past Minjae, like he couldn’t quite look at him. “You think I don’t know that?”

“No,” Minjae said after a pause, “I think you know exactly how much it matters. That’s why you’re so scared that you think you broke that trust.”

Junmin’s shoulders tensed further, almost like he wanted to fold inward, disappear into himself. His voice, when it came, was thin around the edges. “I didn’t mean to let it slip. I just-” he dragged a hand through his hair. “I was angry. I wasn’t thinking. And now I’m wondering if I ever had the right to know in the first place.”

“You didn’t betray him,” Minjae said, not quite reaching out, but his voice was closer now, softer. “You didn’t say his name. You didn’t tell me anything I can’t choose to ignore.”

Junmin gave a humorless laugh. “You won’t ignore it.”

“No,” Minjae agreed, quiet. “I won’t. But I won’t say anything, either. Not unless you tell me I need to, you’d know when to come to me.”

Junmin went quiet. He did know, unfortunately. He ran his tongue over his teeth, “Listen-”

“You said I was punishing you-” Minjae spoke over him, moving to sit on the edge of his desk. “Maybe you’re right, but it wasn't intentional.”

Junmin blinked, eyes narrowing at him. “Why?”

Minjae exhaled slowly. “Because I was scared. I know I should trust these kids, you were right when you said they’ve never given us a reason not to.” His hands fidgeted in his lap. “And everything was… too much. I’ve had time to realize that, now.” He paused, “I don’t want to keep doing this. I can’t stand the fighting anymore, It’s turning us into something we’re not.”

Junmin crossed his arms over his chest again, staring blankly at him. “Then stop,” he said simply. 

Minjae looked up, brow furrowed. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got until you stop pretending we’re the only two in this group who knows what’s happening.”

“I’m not pretending.”

Junmin scoffed. “Minjae. We’ve never been good at being subtle, and they’re not stupid. They may not know the specifics, but they probably know something.”

Minjae finally said, “So what, then? You want me to make an announcement? Tell them we were-”

Junmin cut him off sharply. “ Were? ”

Minjae hesitated, then looked away again. “Are. I don’t know. You’ve made it really hard to know where we stand right now. Does it even matter?”

“It matters,” Junmin said, voice rough around the edges. “Because that’s what this has been about for me. This whole time. You think I care that you get controlling during practices? That I snap back when you push too hard? That’s just noise. That’s not the real fight.”

Minjae’s throat tightened. “Then what is?”

Junmin’s arms dropped to his sides, open, vulnerable in a way that hurt to look at. “It’s that you hide me. That no matter what we’ve been to each other, what we’ve done together, you still act like I’m a liability when anyone else is around.”

Minjae didn’t say anything. Just stood there, frozen, like he was hoping silence would save him. 

But Junmin was sick of the back and forth, he’d waited long enough. 

“I can see that you know where I’m coming from now, Minjae. You weren’t always like this. I don’t like us fighting either, we used to never fight. It’s just now, because the second pressure started building, you gave up on us.”

Minjae stayed quiet, jaw tight, staring down at the floor like it might offer him some way out. But Junmin didn’t let up. His voice softened, but he stood his ground. 

“Minjae, I want my boyfriend back. I want my boyfriend who treated me like I was the only one in the room sometimes. Who snuck out with me to have random date nights. I want physical touch and yet you haven’t even kissed me in months.”

Minjae’s breath caught at that, like he’d just realized how long it’s been. “I didn’t-” he went quiet again, and Junmin watched the way his shoulders curled in. “I didn’t even realize, I got caught up in everything.”

“You got stuck in your head, it happens, I get that. But we can’t keep dancing around each other like this. I love you, you know I do. I didn’t want to hurt you when I said we should take a break.” Junmin stepped closer, fixing stray hairs from Minjae’s forehead. “You needed time to think, but I think you’re starting to understand.”

“I think it hit me right when you said it actually,” Minjae laughed bitterly. “But after a few days I just felt angry about it.”

Junmin gave a small, almost sad smile. “I figured.”

“I wanted to apologize,” Minjae admitted, voice low. “Every night, but every time I almost went in there, Yujun was with you, and you always sounded like you were having a serious conversation, and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Junmin’s smile faltered slightly, eyes dipping away from Minjae’s for a beat. “Yujunnie’s been… going through something,” he said, tone careful. “He’s been needing someone to talk to lately.”

Minjae nodded slowly, but Junmin could practically see the cogs turning in his head. But he didn’t press, and that’s how Junmin knew what he’d just done, he’d given it away. His breath caught lightly. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“It is. And that’s okay. We can… Deal with things as they come. I trust you, and I think I’m trusting them a little more.”

Junmin inhaled, letting his eyes fall shut. “So… What then? I can’t keep pretending I’m mad at you everyday.”

“I’ll do it.”

Junmin looked up, cautious hope flickering in his eyes. “Do what?”

“I’ll tell them. The others. About us.” Minjae’s voice was quiet but steady. “I’ll do it before the MV shoot. Two weeks. That’s enough time for me to figure out how.”

Junmin’s brows lifted. “You’re sure?”

Minjae nodded. “Yeah. I owe you that much. I owe them that much too. I just… I need to think through how to do it without turning it into some announcement or spectacle.”

Junmin let out a slow breath, like some tightly wound part of him was finally loosening. “Okay. Okay, I can work with that.” He hesitated, then added with a half-smile, “At least you don’t have to worry about telling one of them.”

Minjae blinked. “What do you mean?”

Junmin huffed out a nervous laugh. “You never asked if he told me because I was scared. Just if he was.”

“Why did he tell you, then?”

Junmin’s smile faltered. His gaze dropped to the floor, voice lowering as the weight of the memory sank into the space between them.

“…He didn’t,” he said softly. “Not first.”

Minjae tilted his head slightly, brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Junmin sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like he was trying to keep himself from sinking too deep into it. “It was a couple days after our fight. I’d barely slept, hadn’t eaten right. I thought I could keep it together, but…” His throat tightened. “He came to check on me. I’d spent hours just staring at our old texts and… I guess when he asked if I was okay, I just cracked.”

Minjae’s breath hitched, the weight of it all settling over him like a fog. He looked up at Junmin slowly, something wounded and deeply apologetic in his gaze.

“I didn’t know,” he said, voice low, reverent like the moment deserved it. “I didn’t realize you were hurting that much.”

Junmin shrugged, but there was no indifference in it, only resignation. “I didn’t want you to know. I wanted you to think I was doing fine without you.”

“That’s not fair,” Minjae murmured. “To either of us.”

“I know that now.” Junmin rubbed the back of his neck, like he couldn’t quite get the tension out of his body. “But back then? I just wanted to prove I didn’t need you. That if you were done with us, I’d be okay on my own.”

“But I wasn’t, I never was.” Minjae stepped forward again, moving to cradle Junmin’s face. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, and I’m sorry for continuing to fight even after all of this. I’ll work on it, okay?”

Junmin’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment before landing on Minjae’s again. “I’m sorry too, I should’ve said something before it turned into that.”

“We’re both idiots.” Minjae laughed softly. 

“Mainly you.”

Minjae headbutted Junmin lightly, “Brat.” He mumbled, but he caught the faint smile on Junmin’s lips. His eyes trailed over the younger’s face, leaning in slowly. 

Junmin met him halfway. But just as their lips brushed, the vibration of Junmin’s phone startled them. They both froze, Junmin’s forehead dropping to Minjae’s shoulder with a groan. “You gotta be- I can’t catch a break, can I?”

Minjae let out a soft huff in amusement. “Answer it. Before someone thinks we killed each other and comes looking.”

Junmin pulled his phone from his pocket, still halfway leaning into Minjae as he answered. “What now, Seeun?”

Seeun’s voice came through, low and a little tentative. “Sorry, hyung. I know you’re… probably busy. But Yujun’s been in your room since practice ended. He won’t come out.”

Junmin straightened up, concern flashing across his face. “How long?”

“Since we got back. I think he skipped dinner too. Didn’t say anything to anyone, just went straight in and closed the door. I figured you should know.”

Junmin ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll check on him.”

Minjae’s hand lingered briefly on Junmin’s arm before slipping away. “Go,” he said, and though his voice was calm, Junmin could tell Minjae was feeling just as unnerved as he was.

"You can come to my room tonight, okay? Just be quiet in case Yujunnie's asleep."

Chapter Text

The hallway light had been left off, just the low hum of the refrigerator filling the dorm with a faint noise. The others were scattered somewhere- probably their bedrooms, it didn’t matter though. Junmin’s focus was just on getting to Yujun. 

He stood in front of his door longer than he meant to, palm hovering just above the knob, listening, hoping that he’d at least hear some kind of noise on the other side. But all he was met with was silence. 

Junmin swallowed hard, guilt pressing against his chest. He’d been so caught up in the fight with Minjae, dragging it out as long as he could just to get something out of the older boy, that he didn’t even notice how fast Yujun had left the practice room earlier. 

Of course Seeun was the one to notice. Seeun always noticed when something was off with Yujun. 

Finally, he turned the knob, pushing the door open slow enough that it didn’t creak too loudly. The faint light spilled into the room and he made sure to shut the door behind him quickly. Junmin exhaled, a mix of relief and worry tightening in his chest at the sight of Yujun curled up in his bed. His eyes were red and looked like they could only open halfway from how puffy they were. The younger boy was peeking through the small hole left in his hood, hoodie strings drawn so tight Junmin could hardly make out any other features. 

He took another step forward, careful not to be too loud. His voice was low even with how his throat felt tight. “Yujunnie,” he whispered.

Junmin crouched at the edge of the bed, his hand tightening against his knee as he tried to make out more than just Yujun’s red eyes and the thin strip of his face between the pulled strings of the hood.

“Yujunnie,” he whispered again. “Talk to me.”

For a moment, Yujun didn’t move at all, and Junmin wondered if he’d already fallen asleep. But then a faint sound came, more like a weak sigh than an answer.

Yujun shifted, and Junmin realized his shoulders were trembling. Not from crying- or, at least, not only from that. The blanket moved just enough to reveal how tightly Yujun’s arms were pressed against his stomach.

Junmin blinked, his chest tightening. “Wait. Are you hurt?”

“…no,” came the hoarse murmur. It was too quick, too automatic.

Junmin reached out, brushing his knuckles against Yujun’s sleeve. The fabric was damp. His frown deepened. “You’re sweating-”

The younger boy winced, curling tighter in on himself as if the act of being noticed was unbearable. His voice cracked low through the hood. “I’m okay- just need to sleep, hyung.”

Junmin didn’t believe him for a second. The words were too brittle, breaking apart at the edges, and the way Yujun’s hands were still pressed so hard against his stomach made something cold crawl down Junmin’s spine.

“Sleep doesn’t make you shake like this,” Junmin murmured, softer than before. He lowered himself onto the mattress, careful not to jostle the blanket too much, and reached for Yujun’s hood again. “Let me see you.”

Yujun turned his face deeper into the pillow, the drawstrings cutting tighter around his cheeks. “I’m cold…” He whined quietly, voice thin..

Junmin hesitated, his thumb brushing over Yujun’s trembling hand. The heat under his skin made his stomach twist, but something didn’t add up. He needed to be sure.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” he whispered. He tried to pull away, but Yujun’s weak grip clung to his sleeve.

“I promise I’m not leaving,” Junmin said quickly, gently prying his hand free. “Just two seconds.”

He slipped out into the hall and back into the bathroom, rummaging through the drawer where Jinsik kept the first-aid box. When he came back with the thermometer, Yujun hadn’t moved, still curled tight into himself, hood drawn around his face.

Junmin crouched again, holding it up. “Let’s just check, yeah? Humor me.”

Yujun groaned softly, but after a long pause, he parted his lips just enough for Junmin to slip the thermometer under his tongue. Junmin sat beside him, watching the seconds tick by, chewing at the inside of his cheek.

When it finally beeped, he pulled it out and stared at the little glowing numbers.

…Normal. Barely above thirty-six.

Junmin blinked at it, frowning. “That can’t be right. You’re burning up, you’re-” He stopped, realizing how little sense it made. Fever wasn’t the problem.

His eyes flicked back to Yujun, who still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Yujunnie… if it’s not a fever, then why-”

“I’m anxious.” The words tumbled out, rough and quiet, like they’d been trapped in his throat all day. Yujun finally turned, just enough for Junmin to see his glassy eyes, the exhaustion weighing them down. “It’s stupid, I know. But it’s been like this all day. My chest feels tight and I can’t eat, and then-” He grimaced, swallowing hard. “I just keep… throwing up. I can’t stop.”

“Hey, hey…” Junmin sat fully on the edge of the bed, setting the thermometer aside. He reached for Yujun’s hand again, firm but gentle. “It’s not stupid. Don’t say that.”

Yujun’s lips pressed tight, eyes watering again as he muttered, “I didn’t want to bother anyone. Everyone’s already stressed over the debut. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Junmin’s chest ached at the words. He gave Yujun’s hand a squeeze, steady and warm. “Hey. You’re not making anything worse,” he said softly. “You’re just not feeling good. That happens.”

Yujun sniffled, tugging his hood further over his face. “Everyone else is fine. I’m the only one like this. I can’t even eat without…” he trailed off, grimacing.

Junmin shook his head quickly. “So what if the others are fine? You don’t have to match them. You’re allowed to feel like crap sometimes.”

Yujun gave a small, weak laugh, though it sounded closer to a sob. “It’s not just sometimes.”

Junmin sighed quietly and leaned forward, tugging the hood looser so he could brush sweaty hair off Yujun’s forehead. His skin was clammy, his eyes glassy with exhaustion. “You should’ve told me earlier. I would’ve helped you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you…” Yujun murmured.

Junmin’s grip tightened gently on his hand. “Yujunnie. You don’t bother me. Ever. I’d rather you tell me than run yourself into the ground like this.”

For a while, the only sound was Yujun’s uneven breathing, the rise and fall of his chest slowly evening out under Junmin’s steady presence. Junmin just sat there with him, thumb brushing over his knuckles in slow circles, patient. No rush, no pressure.

Then, a soft knock came at the door. Just one. Then another.

Yujun flinched, his shoulders stiffening immediately under the blanket. His wide eyes darted toward the door, panic sparking in them as if the outside world had finally come crashing in.

Junmin leaned in quickly, whispering, “Hey, hey- don’t tense up. It’s probably just Minjae.”

The way Yujun’s eyes flickered at the name made Junmin soften his tone further, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We… worked things out,” he explained gently. “No more fighting. He’s not mad anymore.”

Yujun blinked at him, uncertain. “Really?” His voice was barely audible.

“Really,” Junmin promised. He smoothed his hand over Yujun’s damp hair, brushing it back from his forehead again. “I promise, no more fighting.”

Another quiet knock came, less hesitant this time.

Junmin glanced toward the door, then back at Yujun. He hesitated, careful not to push, and asked softly, “Do you want me to let him in? Just for tonight. He can sleep here with us, if that’s okay.”

Yujun’s lips trembled, his voice so faint Junmin almost missed it. “He can come in…”

Junmin nodded immediately. He gave Yujun’s hand one last squeeze before standing to answer the knock.

When he cracked the door open, Minjae was there, leaning against the frame like he’d been waiting too long. His eyes flicked past Junmin, toward the faint lump under the blankets, but he didn’t say a word. Whatever questions he had, he swallowed them down.

Junmin just stepped aside, voice low. “Come in.”

Minjae didn’t argue. He slipped off his hoodie, kicked his slippers to the side, and crossed the room. Yujun shifted when the mattress dipped under Minjae’s weight, shoulders tensing, but Junmin was quick to sit back down beside him, grounding him with a gentle hand to his arm.

“Move over,” Junmin murmured, nudging carefully at Yujun’s blanket. Yujun blinked up at him, red eyes wide, but he let himself be guided. Junmin tugged him gently until he was lying in the middle, his hood slipping loose around his face.

“Hyung-” Yujun started, voice small, uncertain.

Junmin leaned down, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “Shh. You’ll be warmer like this.” He shot Minjae a quick look, and the older boy didn’t hesitate, just slid in on Yujun’s other side, settling without a word.

The three of them lay in silence for a while, the room soft with the sound of their breathing. Yujun stayed tense at first, caught between them, but Junmin wrapped an arm lightly around his waist and pressed close enough that he couldn’t mistake the warmth for anything but steady comfort.

“If you have to throw up again,” Junmin murmured into his hair, “just tell me to move. Or shove me out of the bed if you have to.”

That pulled the tiniest, broken laugh from Yujun’s chest, half a sound, really, but it loosened the tightness in his shoulders.

Junmin smiled faintly, his thumb tracing slow circles against Yujun’s arm. “I mean it. I mean like- shove me, I won’t care.”

Yujun didn’t say anything after that. His chest hitched once, then steadied, and he let out a long breath that trembled at the end. Junmin kept his arm looped around him, thumb drawing light circles against his sleeve until the boy’s eyelids began to droop.

Junmin could feel it in the way Yujun’s body finally began to sink against him. His shoulders uncurled a little, and though he still looked uneasy, the exhaustion written all over his face started to pull him under.

“You’re okay,” Junmin whispered, more for Yujun than himself. “We’ve got you.”

Yujun gave a tiny hum in response, barely there, then went still. His breaths began to even out, slow and shallow but steady, his lashes lowering until they brushed the tops of his cheeks.

Junmin stayed quiet, watching for a while just to make sure. Each breath Yujun took loosened a knot in his chest that he hadn’t realized was wound so tight.

Eventually, the boy’s lips parted, his breathing soft and regular, his face slack with sleep.

“He’s out,” Minjae murmured from the other side, his voice so low it almost blended into the hush of the room.

Junmin nodded, eyes still on Yujun. “Yeah.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The dorm felt impossibly still, the faint hum of the fridge in the hall the only reminder of the world outside this room.

Junmin finally tore his gaze away from Yujun long enough to glance across at Minjae. The older boy was lying on his side, one hand resting loosely on top of the blanket near Yujun’s shoulder. His expression was unreadable, the kind Minjae often wore when he was holding back more than he wanted to say.

Junmin let his hand drift up to brush once more through Yujun’s damp hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. The boy didn’t stir.

“He was throwing up,” Junmin said quietly. “But it wasn’t from being sick. He said he’s been anxious all day.”

Minjae’s eyes softened, and he exhaled through his nose. “Figures.”

Junmin tilted his head.

“He’s always been like that,” Minjae murmured. “Pushes it down until his body can’t anymore. You remember when we busked for a bit? Same thing. He almost didn’t even make it to the street.”

Junmin frowned, a faint crease between his brows. He hadn’t known that. Or maybe he’d known something was wrong but hadn’t realized just how bad it had been.

“I should’ve noticed earlier,” he muttered. His thumb brushed absently against Yujun’s knuckles where their hands rested together on the blanket. “Instead of wasting time fighting with you.”

Minjae gave a quiet huff, not quite a laugh but close. “Yeah, that was really productive of us.”

Junmin winced at the memory. The fight felt so pointless now, so small compared to the way Yujun had curled up shaking under the blankets.

“I thought…” Junmin hesitated, lowering his voice even more. “I thought if I pushed you, maybe you’d finally- I don’t know. I just wanted something out of you. But it was stupid”

The guilt pressed heavier on his chest, and he looked down at Yujun again, at the small frown that lingered even in sleep.

Junmin’s gaze lingered on Yujun’s face, the faint crease in his brow even in sleep, the way his lashes clumped from tears. His chest tightened again, guilt twisting sharper, but then Minjae’s voice cut quietly through the silence.

“It wasn’t just you,” Minjae murmured. His eyes stayed on the ceiling, his voice low, measured. “It was stupid of me too.”

Junmin glanced across Yujun at him, brow furrowing.

Minjae let out a slow breath, the kind that sounded like he’d been holding it in for too long. “I kept expecting you to just be okay with it. With hiding. With me pretending there was nothing between us when we were around everyone else.” His jaw tightened, eyes flicking down to Yujun before he quickly looked away again. “That wasn’t fair. At all.”

Junmin’s lips parted, but the words caught in his throat.

“I kept telling myself it wasn’t the right time. That the others had enough on their plates, that we couldn’t afford distractions.” Minjae’s voice softened, regret heavy in it. “But really, I was just scared. Scared of how they’d look at us. Scared of what it’d do to the group.”

Junmin swallowed hard, shifting his hand slightly against Yujun’s just to keep himself grounded. “You think I wasn’t scared too?” he whispered.

“I know you were.” Minjae’s eyes met his then, steady and open in a way that left no room for deflection. “But you still wanted to be honest. And I kept shutting you down. That was on me.”

Junmin didn’t know what to say to that, not immediately. The silence stretched, filled only by Yujun’s faint, even breaths between them.

“…So,” he whispered, his voice almost drowned out by the quiet of the room, “does that mean we’re… dating again?”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately bit the inside of his cheek, wishing he could shove them back down his throat. His stomach twisted; it sounded too fragile, too unsure.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Minjae huffed out a soft laugh, low enough not to wake Yujun but warm enough to ease the tightness in the air.

“Babe,” he said, amusement lacing his tone, “I never took that break seriously in the first place.”

Junmin’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “You- what?” he whispered, half incredulous, half indignant.

Minjae’s lips curved into a small, crooked smile. He tilted his head against the pillow, finally meeting Junmin’s gaze with something softer than he’d shown in weeks. “Yeah. After the first week I kind of just assumed everything would work out again. We always fix our problems.” He gestured vaguely with his hand, then let it fall back onto the blanket near Yujun’s shoulder. “I might’ve been stupid, but not that stupid.”

Junmin blinked at him, mouth opening and closing once before he dropped his gaze back to Yujun, who stirred faintly but didn’t wake. His face heated, though he tried to play it off with a muttered, “You’re unbelievable.”

Minjae chuckled again, quieter this time, his eyes soft. “Maybe. But, you love me anyway.”

Junmin groaned under his breath at that, the tips of his ears burning. He was glad Yujun was asleep between them, he couldn’t stand the thought of the younger boy overhearing and teasing him later. He smoothed a hand down Yujun’s blanket instead, focusing on the slow, steady breaths beneath it.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he whispered, though the words lacked their usual bite.

Minjae shifted, settling deeper into the mattress, his voice low. “You just admitted it by not denying it.”

Junmin shot him a look across Yujun, but Minjae only smirked faintly, too tired to keep pushing further. “Shut the fuck up. And, for the record, if you ever pull that singling me out bullshit again, you’re gonna be sleeping in the streets.”

Minjae smirked at that, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to fire something back, but instead he just kept his mouth shut. His hand flexed once against the blanket, then stilled, fingers resting near Yujun’s shoulder like he was careful not to press too close.

Junmin sighed softly and leaned back against his pillow. “Okay- now we need to go to bed before we wake the child up.” 

The older snickered, “Yeah, yeah. You love the kids more than me, we already knew… Goodnight, baby.”

Junmin rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth tugged upward despite himself. “Go to sleep, idiot,” he whispered, his voice softer than the words.

Minjae only hummed in response, already letting his breathing slow into something steadier, quieter.

Junmin glanced down at Yujun one last time, taking in the peaceful slack of his features, the faint crease between his brows finally easing. His eyes grew heavy, the hush of the room pulling him down.

Chapter Text

The practice room was quiet, no one else had gotten there yet. The room was still pleasantly cold, the computer turned off, lights dimmed ever so slightly. The silence had settled long enough that Junmin’s focus drifted entirely to the glowing screen in his hands, thumbs flicking rapidly as he concentrated on this ridiculous game he’d found himself playing since last week. Bright colors flashed across the screen, annoying sound effects leaking out every time he entered a new stage. 

Behind him, Minjae’s arms stayed looped around his middle, chin resting comfortably over his shoulder. He wasn’t even pretending to watch the game, his eyes stayed on Junmin instead, half-lidded and softened. The steady sway of Minjae’s body had Junmin shifting slowly with him, slow and unhurried. 

“You’re going to make me lose-” Junmin murmured without looking up, though the corner of his mouth curved slightly. 

Minjae hummed against his neck, completely unbothered. “I don’t care about your game, I’m comfortable.”

“You never care about my game.”

“Because it’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

Minjae laughed under his breath, his arms tightened fractionally, enough to draw Junmin back against his chest as if to make his point. Junmin rolled his eyes but didn’t bother fighting him off, not when he could feel the small smile pressing into his skin. 

Junmin’s thumbs slipped, the game flashing a loud “FAILED” across the screen. He groaned, dropping his head back against Minjae’s shoulder.

“See what you did?” he muttered.

Minjae only smirked, his chin nudging against Junmin’s hair. “You were gonna lose anyway.”

Junmin turned his head just enough to shoot him a glare, though the effect was ruined by the small laugh that escaped him. “You’re insufferable.”

“Mm,” Minjae murmured, tightening his arms around him again, “Maybe. But you love me anyway.”

Junmin tried to retort, but the words caught somewhere in his throat, his lips parting without anything coming out. Instead, he scoffed softly and went back to his phone, pretending he hadn’t heard.

Then, the door creaked.

Minjae’s arms froze. His chin lifted slightly off Junmin’s shoulder, his whole body going taut in a way that was familiar. Junmin felt the shift immediately and nudged his elbow back into Minjae’s side in quiet reassurance, but his eyes were already flicking toward the sound.

Junghoon stepped inside, hair sticking up at odd angles, his bag slung carelessly off one shoulder. His gaze flicked from Junmin to Minjae, taking in the way they were still pressed together, Junmin sitting back against Minjae’s chest.

For a long second, he just… stared. Then his brow quirked upward, dry as ever.

“Morning.”

Junmin cleared his throat, shifting slightly but not pulling away. “Morning.”

Minjae, though… Junmin could feel the tension still wrapped in his arms, like he was waiting for some kind of judgment to land.

Junghoon dropped his bag onto the floor with a thud, kneeling to dig out his water bottle. “Hyunwoo hyung’s not coming yet,” he said casually. “Too tired from last night.”

Junmin frowned. “Too tired? From what?”

Junghoon twisted the cap off his bottle, the faint crack of plastic filling the silence. He took a slow drink before answering, shoulders lifting in a lazy shrug. “Just tired. You know how he is.”

Something about the way he said it was too careful, Junmin opened his mouth to press further, but Junghoon’s gaze slid toward him first, sharp in its quiet warning.

Junmin shut his mouth.

Minjae’s grip around him eased a little more, tension giving way to something warier. He stayed quiet too, though Junmin could feel the shift in him, the weight of unasked questions lingering heavy between them.

Junghoon leaned back against the mirror, tilting the water bottle in his hand idly. “Anyway,” he said, tone flat, as if the subject of Hyunwoo didn’t matter enough to dig into. His eyes flicked deliberately back toward them, the way Junmin was still nestled against Minjae. 

Junmin felt the back of his neck grow hot under that pointed stare. His instinct was to pull away, but Minjae hadn’t moved, hadn’t budged an inch. If anything, his arms were still set stubbornly around him, chin hovering just shy of his shoulder again.

Junghoon’s brow arched ever so slightly, his silence doing more than words ever could. Then he tipped the bottle back, took another drink, and said nothing.

The unspoken hung there, until Junmin finally turned his eyes back to the dim glow of his phone screen. He flicked the game open again, though his focus never fully returned to the bright colors and noisy effects.

The silence stretched on, but Junghoon didn’t speak again, didn’t explain himself further. He just leaned against the mirror with that same unreadable calm, sipping his water like it was nothing at all.

Junmin shifted slightly in Minjae’s arms, pretending to be absorbed in his game, but his heart thudded louder than the quiet sound effects spilling from his phone.

Junghoon’s eyes stayed steady on them for a beat too long before sliding away, and Junmin almost wished he’d said something, anything, to break the tension. Instead, the silence swallowed them again, only broken by the faint hum of Junmin’s game.

The next creak of the door made Minjae jolt, not much, but enough that Junmin felt it ripple through him.

“Morning!” Yujun’s voice was light, sing-song, tumbling into the quiet like it didn’t belong there. Seeun trailed in right after him, half laughing at something he’d said.

Junmin looked up in time to see Yujun toss his bag toward the wall, Seeun shaking his head with a fond little sigh as he settled his down more neatly. Neither of them seemed to notice the heavy silence that had been lingering just seconds before.

It was only then that Minjae finally moved. His arms slipped away from Junmin’s waist, leaving the air oddly cooler where his warmth had been pressed. He straightened abruptly, clearing his throat as he crossed the room in a few long strides.

“I guess I’ll boot up the computer…” he muttered, already crouching in front of it. He busied himself, trying to feign innocence. 

Junmin watched him go, lips twitching faintly. For a moment he just sat there, the phantom of Minjae’s hold lingering against his skin. He inhaled slowly before moving to the corner of the room, avoiding eye contact with everyone else. 

By the time most of the members filed in, the room was almost too warm for Junmin to handle. He scrunched his nose in distaste, dropping next to Yechan to stretch. The youngest gave him a lopsided grin, unbothered as ever, and bent until his forehead touched the ground. 

Everything was quiet for a few more minutes, the only sounds being the idle chatter between Yujun and Seeun, who were now starting to wonder what was taking so long. 

Junmin leaned forward into his own stretch, arms reaching out across the polished floor. His palms pressed flat, the slight ache in his shoulders grounding him. Yechan grunted beside him, dropping back into a lazy sprawl, his flexibility making it look effortless.

“Still no Hyunwoo hyung?” Seeun asked after a moment, glancing toward the door.

“Guess not,” Yujun answered, already folding himself into an awkward split that had Seeun snorting under his breath. “He probably overslept. Again.”

It took twenty more minutes of their quiet meandering before Hyunwoo finally stepped in, hoodie only half zipped, grin stretched wide despite the tired look behind his eyes. He looked wrecked, pale, jittery, but his body language suggested otherwise, which was… Odd. To say the least. 

“Sorry, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Hunter barked out a laugh before anyone else could react, shaking his head. His grin tilted sharp as he looked Hyunwoo up and down. “Was it even your bed?”

“Mind your business-” Junghoon shot from across the room, his eyes shooting from Hyunwoo over to Hunter. 

Hyunwoo only grinned wider, unfazed. “Why, jealous?” he teased, voice dripping with mockery as he tugged his hoodie down like it might cover the dark circles under his eyes.

“As if, dude. Junghoon’s a freak, I don’t even want to know what goes down in there.” 

The room erupted with laughter at Hunter’s jab. Yechan collapsed onto the floor, clutching his stomach, while Yujun nearly tipped backward from laughing too hard.

Junghoon, as always, stayed maddeningly unreadable, leaning against the mirror, water bottle in hand, gaze fixed somewhere just past the chaos. No denial. No embarrassment. Nothing.

Junmin’s head snapped toward Minjae before he could stop himself.

But Minjae wasn’t tense. Not the way Junmin expected. His shoulders weren’t stiff, his jaw wasn’t clenched. Instead, he looked… calm. Almost startlingly so. 

The realization struck Junmin all at once. He swallowed, heart tugging in a strange mix of relief and confusion.

At the very least, it meant he hadn’t outed Yujun. Back then, he’d worried the other might have connected dots that weren’t there. But now… now it could have been anyone.

The laughter lingered, echoing even as the music kicked on. Junmin tried to concentrate. He really did. But Minjae was right there, steady, precise, and every so often, Junmin caught his eyes in the mirror. Calm. Still calm. Like nothing had shifted for him at all.

They made it through a couple rounds before Minjae paused the music. “Break,” he whispered, feigning breathlessness he didn’t feel. 

The others didn’t question it. Junghoon however, barely made it to his water bottle before Minjae’s hand closed firmly around his wrist. 

“Outside,” Minjae murmured, tugging.

Junmin blinked, startled. “What? Why-”

But Minjae didn’t explain. He pulled him straight out the door, shutting it behind them with a quiet click.

Junmin stared at him. “You’re insane. You just stopped practice for this? What, you suddenly can’t survive five minutes without me?”

Minjae leaned back against the wall, a crooked grin forming, though his ears burned faintly pink. “You told me not to worry.”

Junmin tilted his head. “I did.”

“You told me nothing would happen. That no one would care. That I was being paranoid.”

Junmin crossed his arms, fighting a smug smile. “Because you were.”

Minjae groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate when you’re right.”

Junmin’s smirk widened. He stepped forward, looping his arms casually around Minjae’s shoulders, leaning in just close enough to make his point sting. “Say it louder, maybe. I don’t think I heard you the first time.”

“You’re unbearable,” Minjae muttered, though his hands slid naturally to Junmin’s waist, holding him there like he didn’t actually want him to move away.

Junmin hummed, grinning against the small space between them. “And right. That’s two for me.”

They were too close now. Their foreheads almost touched, Junmin leaned in that last dangerous inch, their foreheads brushing lightly. Minjae’s hands had stilled on his waist, firm but steady, keeping him close like he had no intention of letting him go. The air between them was too warm, too charged, like the smallest push would tip them straight over the edge.

The door swung open.

“Oh-” Yujun yelped, sharp and startled, before slapping a hand over his mouth. His eyes went wide, darting between the two of them. He froze like he’d walked in on something he was never supposed to see.

“Sorry, I-” He rushed out, stepping back a bit. “Didn’t mean to- I didn’t see anything, I’m just-” He yanked the door open again, ducking in so fast it was almost funny. “Ignore me!”

The door clicked shut.

Junmin dropped his forehead against Minjae’s shoulder with a groan. “I’m going to be sick.”

Minjae’s laugh vibrated against him, quiet but far too amused. “He didn’t scream that loud.”

“He screamed,” Junmin hissed, voice muffled. “Like he just saw a ghost. That’s it. It’s over for us. He’ll never recover.”

“He already knew,” Minjae reminded gently, like that fixed anything. His hands didn’t move from Junmin’s waist. “He was just surprised.”

Junmin dragged both palms over his face. “I’m never showing my face in public again.”

The door creaked a second time.

Junmin went rigid.

“Man,” Hunter’s voice came first, a low chuckle echoing into the hall, “What the hell did you guys do to- oh!” 

Junmin jerked back just enough to see Hunter leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed, grin wide enough to make his stomach sink. His eyes flicked over them, Junmin’s arms still draped around Minjae’s shoulders, Minjae’s hands undeniably at his waist- and his grin sharpened.

“Poor Yujun,” Hunter continued, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “It’s like he walked in on his parents making out.”

Junmin’s entire face burned hot. “We weren’t- It wasn’t like that!”

Hunter barked out a laugh, leaning heavier into the doorframe. “Oh, come on. Don’t even try it. I always knew you guys had a thing for each other, you’re not as secretive as you think.”

Junmin groaned, covering his face with both hands. “I hate you.”

“Relax,” Hunter said, still grinning. “It was kinda cute. Gross, but cute.” He pointed between the two of them. “Still not over the fact that I had to witness it, though. My poor innocent eyes.”

“Innocent?” Junmin dropped his hands just enough to glare. “You? Please.”

That only made Hunter laugh harder. “Okay, fuck you? I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.”

Junmin was still glowering at Hunter when Minjae finally spoke up, his tone steady, cutting clean through the teasing.

“Alright, enough.”

Hunter’s grin faltered, just slightly, at the evenness of Minjae’s voice. He glanced between them, eyebrows lifting in mock innocence. “What? I’m just messing around.”

“You’re bothering him,” Minjae said simply, not raising his voice, but the weight behind it was enough. His hand at Junmin’s waist tightened briefly, grounding him. “So stop.”

Junmin blinked, startled by the quiet firmness, but didn’t move, didn’t argue.

Hunter’s smirk curved back into place, but it softened around the edges this time. “Fine, fine. I’ll quit. Didn’t think you’d get all protective about it.”

Minjae held his gaze, unflinching. “We were going to tell you guys soon anyway. Just… not like this.” His voice stayed calm, measured, but there was no hesitation in it. “So keep it to yourself. Just for a little while.”

Hunter tilted his head, considering him. The silence stretched long enough for Junmin’s pulse to trip over itself, but then Hunter huffed out a laugh and lifted his hands in surrender.

“Alright. My lips are sealed. For now.” His grin sharpened again, though not unkind. “But next time, try not to practically eye fuck each other in the company hallway. Not the best idea if you’re trying to stay ‘secret.’”

Junmin groaned, shoving his face back into Minjae’s shoulder with a muffled, “Kill me now.”

Minjae’s lips quirked, brushing against the top of his hair as he murmured back, low enough that Hunter almost didn’t hear, “Not happening.”

Hunter shook his head, amused. “Man, you two are gross.” He turned on his heel, pushing the door back open. “Hurry and call for practice again, I’m getting hungry.”

“We’ll be back in soon, just give us a second.”