Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lost Signal didn’t start with a dream. It started with a Craigslist ad, a busted amplifier, and Yunho showing up to Hongjoong’s studio with a half-working drum machine and a look that said I don’t have much else going on, either. Jongho joined because his old band imploded after a fight over someone’s girlfriend, and Mingi was recruited after showing up to a show they played in a bar, telling Hongjoong afterward that he “liked the vibe” and would “figure out how to be good enough.” He was already good enough. A bit reckless, but good.

The pirate thing was a joke at first. Mingi said one of their early songs sounded “nautical,” and Yunho, bored and sleep-deprived, started drawing anchors on his snare heads. At some point they called a rehearsal a “voyage,” and they’d call Hongjoong “captain” half-seriously, mostly because he was the oldest and the only one who ever remembered to bring a spare cable, or email back a venue, or budget the merch.

Two years in, they weren’t famous, but they had a name, a logo and loyal following. They played shows that weren’t just to their friends anymore, and had strangers in the crowd singing back choruses. Their demo tape was somewhere in a college radio rotation. Some guy once got their lyrics tattooed, which freaked Hongjoong out for a whole week.

And now, they were standing backstage at a summer festival in Seoul.

Hongjoong could already feel sweat sliding down the back of his neck, it was really hot today. Mingi had dropped his bag somewhere and was lying flat in a patch of grass, arms outstretched like he was about to ascend.

“I’m dying,” he said.

“You’re dramatic,” Jongho muttered, squatting next to their gear.

“I want it in my will that we play an encore at my funeral.”

“Encore of what? You forget half your solos live.”

“That’s part of the charm.”

Yunho appeared with iced coffees for all four of them, balanced precariously in a drink tray.

“It’s like hell out here,” he said, handing Hongjoong his. “But at least there’s coffee.”

Hongjoong took a long sip. “Thanks. We go on in forty.”

“I know. I checked with the sound guy.” Yunho paused. “He complimented our demo.”

“Oh no,” Mingi groaned. “Now Yunho’s gonna fall in love.”

“He had a nice voice,” he replied with a smirk.

They stayed in the shade a little longer, then wandered over toward the side of the crowd near the smaller stage, where a band was already starting their set. Vesper or something like that. Mingi said someone told him they were worth watching. Lost Signal was the next slot after them, so it made sense to scope them out.

They were all dressed in black. The frontman had a long-sleeve mesh shirt and leather pants despite the heat. The guitarist looked like he had been lifted from a 2007 Tumblr post, all long dark hair and eyeliner. The drummer was dead silent, with his posture straight.

And then the bassist.

Hongjoong noticed him before he meant to. He had long silver hair and was wearing a sleeveless top, leaving his collarbones exposed, and his bass hung against his hip. He wasn’t flashy, not like Mingi, at least. He barely moved, but he didn’t need to.  There was something about the way he played that made Hongjoong stop listening to the song entirely and just watch. Watch the subtle drag of his fingers, the way he leaned into rests. He looked cool without even trying. And when he turned just slightly toward their side of the crowd, his eyes scanning lazily past the rail, Hongjoong swore for a second that their eyes met. He looked away fast.

“That bassist is sick,” Yunho said, nodding.

“Told you they were good,” Mingi said.

“They’re tight,” Jongho agreed. “The drummer looks cool.”

Hongjoong just tried not to look again. They stayed until the end of the set, and when final note rang out, the crowd clapped loudly. That band had something; maybe it was the aesthetic, or the playing. Maybe it was just that they were handsome as hell.

But then it was Lost Signal’s turn. The transition was fast. Mingi cracked his knuckles and slipped his guitar over his shoulder. Jongho rolled his neck. Yunho tapped his sticks against his palm and counted to four under his breath. Hongjoong adjusted the strap of his bass, looked out at the crowd, and said, “Alright. Let’s show ‘em something.”

They didn’t need to answer.  Mingi kicked off the set with the punchy intro riff to XO, and they were off.

The crowd picked up fast. It always helped to go on after a good band, people were already amped, and Lost Signal hit hard from the first note. Jongho started singing with his powerful voice, and Yunho kept the rhythm steady behind him. Mingi looked possessed by the music. But Hongjoong wasn’t like that, he didn’t jump around. He didn’t yell into the mic or shove anyone out of the way, he just played steadily. His fingers moved on instinct, and his head stayed mostly down, but when he looked up, when he sang backup on the chorus or took a verse, everyone listened. They usually tell him it’s his vibe.

He felt the way sweat dripped down his spine, and his shirt was sticking to him. He could feel the bruise forming on his thigh where the bass hit too hard, but it didn’t matter. What mattered is that the music was good tonight.

Somewhere during the third song, Hongjoong glanced toward the back of the crowd again, and he was there. The bassist. He wasn’t distracted or on his phone. Not even making small talk with the other band members. Just watching them. Hongjoong didn’t look away this time.

The song built up, the chorus was punching hard, and when the final chord hit, the crowd erupted. They didn’t need an encore; they weren’t that kind of band. They bowed quickly, smiled, waved, and got off stage fast. Back behind the curtain, Hongjoong dropped into a plastic chair and exhaled like he hadn’t taken a breath the whole set.

“We did good,” Mingi said, grinning, and Jongho agreed.

Hongjoong wiped his face with a towel. “You knocked over the monitor again.”

“Worth it.”

They didn’t plan to go out after the show; most of them were already half-dead from the heat and still rehydrating backstage when some guy Mingi knew came over with a grin and said, “Warehouse party in Itaewon. All the bands are heading there. Free drinks and shit. You guys down?”

Mingi didn’t even wait for a vote. “Absolutely.”

And that was that.

By the time they got there, Lost Signal was still sticky with sweat and half in their stage clothes. The venue was a gutted warehouse with cheap LEDs and exposed pipes. It was packed already, the floor filled with spilled beer and someone’s shitty vape cloud.

Hongjoong stepped through the entrance last, watching his band scatter like they were already familiar with the place. He sipped a drink that someone shoved into his hand that tasted like Sprite and cheap vodka and let himself sink into the noise for a while. The blur of shouting, laughter, and loud music. He watched Yunho dancing with someone who clearly didn’t know how to dance.

Hongjoong didn’t like this kind of place; it was too much. So, when everyone was distracted, he slipped through a side door without a word. The alley behind the warehouse felt like a breath. Hongjoong stepped out into it and leaned against the wall, sliding a cigarette from the crumpled pack in his back pocket. He pressed it to his lips and reached automatically for his lighter.

Nothing.

He checked again, in his jacket pocket, jeans, shirt. No lighter.

“Need a light?”

The voice came from a few steps away, making Hongjoong turn. The one talking was the bassist from the other band. He hadn’t changed much since the set; he was still wearing black, but now it was a loose, sleeveless mesh top tucked to high-waisted jeans that clung just right, cinched in to emphasize his waist. His silver hair was pushed back, still damp from sweat, and a chain hung from his neck. He had a cigarette between his lips, already lit.

He stepped close enough for Hongjoong to smell the faint trace of cologne, sweat, and smoke clinging to his skin. The bassist didn’t ask again; he just leaned in slowly and brought his own cigarette to meet Hongjoong’s, tip to tip. The ember flared between them, almost brushing lips. For one brief second, it felt more like a kiss than a favor. When he pulled back, letting the smoke drift between them, his eyes were half-lidded and amused. Hongjoong was still holding his breath when he heard the bassist say in a satisfied murmur:

“There.”

It took him a second too long to respond, the heat still curling at the edges of his jaw, and when he finally managed a quiet “Thanks,” it came out rougher than intended.

“You looked like you were about to chew on it out of frustration.” The guy smiled as he said it. Hongjoong took a drag just to give his hands something to do.

“I didn’t realize I left my lighter.”

“Well,” the guy said, tilting his head. “Lucky for you, I like dramatic entrances.”

He was still a little stuck in his head, replaying the moment over and over. The guy said something else, but Hongjoong didn’t catch it.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, what’s your name?” His smile didn’t falter. If anything, it got a little more amused, like he knew the effect he was having.

“Hongjoong,”

“Seonghwa,” the guy replied. Seonghwa.

Hongjoong let it sit on his tongue a second before nodding. “Cool.”

Cool. Jesus.

They stood like that for a moment. Hongjoong took another drag and exhaled slowly, while Seonghwa leaned against the wall beside him.

“You guys were good,” he said after a moment. “I watched your whole set.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ve got a good presence. It’s easy to tell you’ve been together for a while.”

Hongjoong looked over at him. “That’s weirdly specific.”

Seonghwa grinned. “I mean it in a good way. You’re the bassist, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I figured.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Seonghwa took a slow drag, then turned his head just enough to look at him directly, and lowered his gaze.

“Because you’ve got nice hands.”

Hongjoong blinked. “What?”

He gestured vaguely with his cigarette. “I always notice the bassists. Maybe out of habit.”

Hongjoong tried to act unbothered, but he was suddenly very aware of his fingers. He glanced down at them briefly. “They’re just hands.”

“Mm.” Seonghwa tilted his head, still watching him. “Not really.”

Hongjoong let the silence sit for a second before asking, “Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Kind of flirty.”

Seonghwa laughed. “Only when I’m interested.”

That pulled a small, involuntary twitch from the corner of Hongjoong’s mouth. He inhaled again, his eyes drifting sideways. Seonghwa’s outfit really did nothing to help. It wasn’t even about how pretty he was. Hongjoong had seen plenty of people who knew how to be pretty, but there was something different about him.

“You’ve been staring for like ten seconds,” Seonghwa said, still facing forward.

“I haven’t.”

“You definitely have.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. Another moment of silence. 

“You don’t really seem like the party type,” Seonghwa pointed out.

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My band wanted to come.”

Seonghwa hummed. “I hate these kinds of parties, too. I just come here for the free drinks.”

“And to flirt with strangers?”

“Only the ones with nice hands.”

Hongjoong exhaled a short laugh and looked away, feeling something warm flicker low in his stomach. He hadn’t felt this off-balance in a long time, maybe ever. He was used to being in control: of his image, his band, his music. But something about this conversation, about Seonghwa, was knocking that control loose in little pieces, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop it.

He looked back, and Seonghwa was already watching him. He hadn't noticed how big his eyes were, or how soft his gaze was, and the fact that he slightly tilted his head didn't help. He didn’t say anything, but he leaned in just a bit. Hongjoong didn’t pull away; his pulse was thudding in his ears. Their arms brushed, their fingers grazing for half a second. And just when it felt like something was about to happen… Seonghwa’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He closed his eyes like it physically pained him.

“Fucking hell.” He fished it out, glanced at the name, and answered. “What? … He’s what? God. Okay. I’m coming.” He hung up and sighed, already shifting back. “Our vocalist is puking in a sink. Wooyoung can’t carry him.”

Hongjoong blinked. “Sounds like a blast.”

Seonghwa smiled, then he dug into his pocket, pulled out a pen, and scribbled something on the back of a flyer pinned to the wall. He gave it to Hongjoong.

“In case you ever want to talk again. Or have me light another one.” Hongjoong took it, and Seonghwa turned without waiting for an answer, disappearing back into the door they came from, the sound of the party bleeding out behind him.

Hongjoong stood still, his hand clutching the slip of paper. His cigarette had burned low, forgotten between his fingers. He stared down at the messy scrawl of numbers and the name Seonghwa written in a nice handwriting.

He could still feel the warmth of where their arms brushed.

Now that Hongjoong remembered, people had always joked about the bassist from that band. About how every girl wanted to sleep with him, or about how ridiculously attractive he was. Hongjoong had always rolled his eyes, but now he understood. He couldn’t blame them one bit.

They didn’t stay much longer after that. The party had started to thin out anyway; most people slouched on couches or slipped out in pairs. Hongjoong rounded them up around 2 a.m. like the designated adult he was, and somehow, they all made it into a cab, Mingi yelling from the backseat that he wasn’t drunk even though he’d definitely tried to fist bump a traffic cone on the way out.

Their apartment wasn’t big; it barely fit all four of them, but it had enough floor space for a couch, some instruments, and a table covered in energy drinks and takeout containers. They’d been living together for about a year and a half now. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was theirs. They dumped their jackets as soon as they got inside. Mingi went straight to the fridge and pulled out a couple of leftover beers.

“Round two?” he asked, already tossing one to Yunho.

“God,” Yunho muttered, catching it anyway. “It’s two in the morning.”

Jongho flopped onto the couch and kicked his boots off. “And we just played one of the best sets of our lives. Let us live.”

“Okay,” Yunho said, opening the bottle with a sigh. “But if you try to freestyle again, I’m throwing you off the balcony.” He said, pointing at Mingi.

“No promises.” He replied, smiling.

Hongjoong hovered by the table, grabbing one of the unopened drinks Mingi had set down. He wasn’t planning to finish it; he just needed something to hold. His brain still felt a little far away. He sat on the edge of the armchair, drink in one hand, and his phone still in his pocket.

“You good, hyung?” Mingi asked, stretching out across the floor.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got that ‘I’m writing lyrics in my head’ look,” Yunho said.

Jongho grinned from the couch, “Or he’s thinking about someone.”

That made Hongjoong look up. “I’m not.”

Mingi snorted. “He totally is.”

“I’m not,” he repeated, but the protest was weak.

Jongho pointed a finger at him, wobbly. “Was it someone at the party? That girl in the ripped tights who kept asking if we had a Soundcloud?”

“No,” Hongjoong muttered.

“The guy in the harness, then?” Yunho said with a grin.

“None of your business.” He didn't even remember the people they were talking about, but still, they all whooped.

“Holy shit, it was someone!” Jongho said, clearly delighted. “Why didn’t you bring them back here?”

“Ugh, not while we’re here!” Yunho replied.

Hongjoong just shook his head, trying not to smile. It wasn’t like him to play along, but the teasing felt somehow warm. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, standing and stretching out his back.

“Don’t sext too loud,” Jongho called after him.

“Tell your boyfriend we said hi!” Yunho added, already curled into a ball on the couch.

Hongjoong waved them off with one hand and shut the bathroom door behind him.

When he got back to his room, it was quiet and dim, save for the soft glow of the streetlights bleeding through the blinds. He sat on the edge of his bed and finally pulled his phone from his pocket. The screen lit up. There were a lot of notifications, a few new followers, and a DM from someone asking what pedal setup he used. He remembered the note. He unfolded the crumpled paper again, the name Seonghwa written in dark ink, and the number scrawled below it. He added the contact without thinking too hard. Then hovered over the screen, but he couldn’t bring himself to text.   Instead, he set the phone down on his nightstand, lay back on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. He could still hear Mingi laughing loudly at Yunho doing a dramatic reading of a beer label.

Hongjoong closed his eyes, his hands still smelled faintly like smoke. and all he could think about was Seonghwa.

Weeks passed like that. Lost Signal wasn’t blowing up exactly, but they were doing well. They had signed to a small but promising indie label that specialized in alternative and experimental rock. It wasn’t flashy, but they cared, and they liked the band enough to set them up for a full-length release in a few months. Deadlines were being tossed around already. Fall drop, maybe. Doing a few shows after that if things went well.

Hongjoong, ever the planner, didn’t wait. He liked to get a head start on things, liked knowing he’d done more than enough by the time anyone asked. But when he opened his laptop and sat down in front of a blank document, his fingers hovering above the keys… nothing came.

He tried again, now opening his notepad. Nothing.

It was easier when he was pissed off or anxious or lonely or broke; those things spilled out. But things have been good lately, and they didn’t want to be a song. It was frustrating.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. He thought briefly of Seonghwa. The way he’d almost texted him and then didn’t. He hadn't meant to forget about that night; it had just gotten lost under the rest of it: practice, meetings, his part-time job, and writing. Still… he thought about him now. Then scowled, because even that wasn’t helping.

He stared at the blinking cursor like it was mocking him.

Of course, that’s when Yunho knocked gently on his door and stuck his head in. “You okay?”

Hongjoong tilted his head back and groaned. “Blocked. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually.”

“You’ve been staring at that screen for three hours.”

“It’s called the creative process.”

“It’s called overthinking.”

Hongjoong opened one eye when Yunho leaned against the doorframe.

“Come on. Let’s get coffee or something. Get you away from your keyboard before you break it.”

Hongjoong hesitated, then sighed and stood. “Fine. But you pay.”

The café was quiet, indie, and just the right amount of pretentious. The kind of place that sold matcha and cold brew in recycled jars and had a display case full of pastries that were probably vegan. It was perfect. Hongjoong liked places like this, where people pretended not to be looking at you, and everyone was wearing headphones. He was halfway through deciding whether he wanted something hot or iced when the bell over the door jingled, and he looked up just in time to see him.

Seonghwa.

Wearing a cropped leather jacket over a sheer white shirt, low-slung jeans, and looking like he hadn’t slept enough. He was standing at the pickup counter holding four drinks, perfectly balanced in his arms, like it was a regular thing he did. Hongjoong blinked.

“Wow,” Yunho said quietly. “He’s handsome.”

“I’m gonna stand over here,” Hongjoong muttered, turning toward the napkin dispenser.

Yunho raised an eyebrow. “Do you know him?”

“Sort of.”

Before Yunho could ask more, the barista called his name for their order, and he disappeared to the other side of the café, which was exactly when Seonghwa spotted him.

“Hongjoong,” he said in a light tone.

Hongjoong turned slowly. “Hey.”

“You never called.” He said it without bite, but it still hit something low in Hongjoong’s stomach.

“I… meant to.”

“Mm.” Seonghwa stepped closer. “You left with my number and never used it. Kind of mean.”

“I was busy.” Hongjoong shifted his weight. “Work stuff.”

“You could’ve texted that,” he replied. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

That threw him. Not the flirt, he’d been expecting it, but the ease of it. Like they’d done this ten times already. Hongjoong exhaled slowly.

“Are you always like this?”

Seonghwa shrugged. “I told you. I flirt when I’m interested.”

“And you’re still interested?”

Seonghwa looked at him for a moment, eyes flicking across his lips. “I haven’t decided.”

That made Hongjoong smirk. “What’re the criteria?”

“You showing up might be a start,” Seonghwa said, sipping one of the drinks like it wasn’t a big deal. “Actually… I’ve been stuck too. Creatively. I’ve been trying to write some new stuff for our next set, but nothing’s coming. Thought maybe it’s time for new energy.”

Hongjoong tilted his head. “New energy?”

“You. If you’re free.”

He said it casually, but the meaning was clear. Hongjoong knew exactly what he meant. And maybe it was the creative block or the caffeine buzz or the memory of smoke on his fingertips, but he nodded.

“Alright. I’m free tonight.”

Seonghwa smiled. “Thought you might be.”

Just then, Yunho returned with a tray in hand, raising an eyebrow at the two of them. Seonghwa glanced over, then back to Hongjoong.

“Gotta get these to the rest of the guys. But maybe I’ll see you later?”

“Maybe,” Hongjoong said, barely hiding the grin.

Seonghwa stepped back, gave him one last glance, then turned and walked out the door, the bell chiming behind him. Yunho stared at him, expecting something, but Hongjoong only grabbed his coffee and sat at the nearest table, Yunho following him.

“What?” Hongjoong asked when he noticed his friend’s gaze still on him.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You so are. Did he ask you out?”

“Not exactly.”

Yunho took a sip of his latte, then narrowed his eyes. “Did he ask you in?”

Hongjoong snorted and nearly choked. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m just observant,” Yunho said proudly. “So are you gonna go?”

“...Maybe.”

“Oh, you’re so going.”

Hongjoong didn’t reply, just sipped his drink and looked down at his phone, where Seonghwa’s name still sat in his contacts and texted him, asking where they’d meet. Seonghwa replied minutes later.

When they came back, Hongjoong took a shower, and now, two hours later, he was seriously considering taking another one. He wasn't even sweaty in a normal way, just nervous sweat. The worst kind. He stood in front of the mirror, towel slung around his neck, running a hand through his hair for the fifth time. This was ridiculous.

He'd never felt weird about hooking up before, not that it happened often, but something about this felt more... exposed. Not because of Seonghwa, necessarily. But because everyone else was home.

It was a Saturday. Why was everyone home?

Mingi had called in sick to his shift, Jongho was doing laundry and singing loudly off-key, and Yunho was deep into a game on the couch. The second Hongjoong stepped out of his room dressed in real clothes and cologne, it was over.

“Where are you going?” Yunho asked immediately, not looking away from the screen. As if he didn't already know.

“No one,” Hongjoong said.

“I didn’t ask who, I asked where.”

Mingi popped his head out from the kitchen. “Wait. Is this about the café guy?”

“Who told you?” Hongjoong asked, looking at Yunho.

“Oh my god, it is.”

“He has a name,” Yunho said, turning to Jongho. “What was it again?”

“Something hot, probably,” Jongho called from the hallway.

Hongjoong pulled on his jacket and opened the door.

“Use protection!” someone yelled behind him. He didn’t turn around to check.

The car rattled a little when it hit the speed bump near the exit, but he knew its quirks well enough now. It wasn’t fancy; just a used hatchback he bought after saving every tip from his past job. The drive was short, just a few neighborhoods over. As he pulled up to the apartment complex, he wondered if Seonghwa was going to meet him at the door. Maybe pull him in by the collar, back him into a wall, kiss the breath out of him before they even make it to the couch.

But that... was not what happened.

The door opened before he could knock. Seonghwa stood there, wearing soft black pajama shorts and a white button-up sleep shirt, undone at the top, hanging loose off one shoulder. His silver hair was slightly messy and still wet. Hongjoong swallowed.

“Hey,” Seonghwa said with a small smile. “You came.”

“I said I would.”

“I wasn’t sure.”

Hongjoong stepped inside. “I like to keep my promises.”

He expected something to happen right then, but instead, Seonghwa gestured toward the small living room and said, “I was just pulling up some demos and wanted your ears on them. I’ve been kinda stuck.”

That caught Hongjoong off ward.

He shrugged off his jacket as Seonghwa disappeared into the small kitchen, calling out, “Do you want tea or something?”

“Water’s fine,” Hongjoong replied.

He glanced down at the coffee table. There was a laptop and a couple of lyrics sheets. Without waiting, he sat down on the couch, settling into the corner. It still felt a little strange being here, and more strange that he was helping out someone from a band that, technically, was their competition, but music had always mattered more to him than the ego of the scene. If there was a good song buried in that laptop, he wanted to hear it.

Seonghwa returned a moment later with two glasses and dropped onto the cushion beside him, their thighs bumping lightly.

“Okay,” Seonghwa said, exhaling. “I have a hook I like, but nothing else. It’s kind of stuck in my head and won’t go anywhere.”

“Play it.” Hongjoong replied.

Seonghwa clicked through his laptop, and a rough demo came through the speakers. There were a few layered guitar lines and a clean but slightly haunting melody. It had a theatrical edge, but the bones were there, and they were good.

“You’re playing with 6/8?” Hongjoong asked.

“Yeah,” Seonghwa nodded. “I wanted something that swayed, but I feel like it's missing something.”

Hongjoong leaned in to listen again, their arms brushing as he reached for the volume. Seonghwa didn’t move.

“I like the rhythm,” Hongjoong murmured. “But the pre-chorus needs lift. You’re looping it too tight.”

“You think?” Seonghwa asked, his knee tapping softly against Hongjoong’s.

“Yeah. Try spacing the chords more. Give it air, let the vocal climb.”

He wasn’t trying to flirt, but his voice always dropped a little when he was focused. Seonghwa clicked around, but didn’t hit play. Hongjoong turned his head slightly, catching him just… looking.

“Your lips are so soft,” he said with a faint smile.

Hongjoong blinked. “You’re losing focus.”

Seonghwa didn’t deny it. He just smiled again and leaned closer.

“Sorry. It’s distracting.”

Hongjoong cleared his throat and looked back at the screen. “I could say the same thing.”

Another brush of knees, another soft click of keys. They played the demo again, this time with the altered progression. Seonghwa hummed under his breath, catching onto the shift quickly. It was easy to fall into it with him, easier than Hongjoong expected. He took a break to look around. The space was clean but lived-in; there were a lot of posters on the wall, and a bass leaned against the corner. One mug on the coffee table and a soft blanket draped over the armrest.

“Do you live alone?” he asked, glancing around.

“No, Yeosang lives here too. He’s our drummer and the other vocalist. But he went to see his family and is staying overnight.”

“And the other two?”

“San and Wooyoung?” Seonghwa smirked. “They live together. That’s a whole... thing. I don't ask questions.”

Hongjoong nodded, letting his eyes drift. Seonghwa’s legs were tucked under him now. His shirt gaped a little where the first few buttons were undone and he made a point not to stare too much.

They kept listening, throwing out ideas, sketching lyrics on the back of an envelope when they couldn’t find paper fast enough. It didn’t feel like the first time they’d worked together. It felt natural, like they had the same kind of messy brain. Hongjoong gestured toward the screen, and their hands collided. Seonghwa didn’t pull away.

“You get very serious when you produce,” he noticed.

“That’s how good ideas come through,” Hongjoong replied.

“I noticed,” Seonghwa reached out, brushing a knuckle along the back of Hongjoong’s hand. “I really do like your hands.”

Hongjoong tried not to notice how soft his voice got when he said that, or how warm his legs felt pressed against his own.

“You’re not even pretending to work anymore,” Hongjoong muttered.

“I am,” Seonghwa said, but his eyes were fixed on Hongjoong’s mouth. “I’m multitasking.”

Hongjoong licked his bottom lip without thinking, and Seonghwa’s gaze dropped instantly. He could feel that slow and magnetic shift in the air. They weren’t talking about music anymore.

“I thought you were gonna kiss me the second I walked in,” Hongjoong said in a quiet voice.

“I was, but then I got shy,” Seonghwa admitted while smiling.

“You got shy?” Hongjoong let out a soft laugh.

“A little. You have an intimidating face.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Shut me up then.”

It didn’t take much. Hongjoong leaned in, and Seonghwa met him halfway. Their lips touched, light at first, then firmer. Hongjoong moved closer on instinct, cupping the side of Seonghwa’s jaw, feeling the curve of his waist beneath the loose shirt. Seonghwa sighed into him, his fingertips tightening around his. It was slow, unhurried. Not rushed like he’d expected, just... warm. When they pulled back, Seonghwa kept his forehead against Hongjoong’s for a second.

“See?” he whispered. “Worth the wait.”

Hongjoong didn’t answer; instead, he kissed him again. The kiss deepened before Hongjoong even realized he was moving. Seonghwa’s lips were soft, slightly parted, and when Hongjoong slid a hand into his hair, he felt him exhale, sending heat curling low in his stomach.

Seonghwa’s fingers found the front of Hongjoong’s shirt, gripping just enough to pull him closer. Their knees bumped, thighs pressing together as Hongjoong tilted his head, licking into Seonghwa’s mouth with a slow, deliberate drag that made him whimper. Hongjoong had expected him to be more dominant, had braced himself for it, but the way Seonghwa melted under his touch was something else entirely. His hands slid up Hongjoong’s chest, fingers tracing the lines of his collarbones before curling around the back of his neck, pulling him in like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa breathed between kisses, voice already wrecked. “You kiss good.”

Hongjoong didn’t let him continue; instead, he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently before soothing it with his tongue, and Seonghwa’s grip tightened in his shirt, a sharp gasp escaping him. He could feel every shift of Seonghwa’s body beneath him, the way his hips rolled up slightly, seeking friction, the way his breath hitched when Hongjoong’s fingers traced the dip of his waist.

“You’ve got no idea,” Seonghwa murmured against his mouth, “how much I’ve thought about this.”

Hongjoong answered by ducking his head and pressing open-mouthed kisses along Seonghwa’s jaw, down the column of his throat. Seonghwa tipped his head back with a sigh, fingers threading through Hongjoong’s hair as he worked his way lower, nipping at the sensitive skin just above his collarbone.

“Joong…”

The nickname sent a jolt through him. Hongjoong sucked a bruise into the hollow of Seonghwa’s throat, relishing the way his breath stuttered and his hips jerked up against him.

“Can I leave marks?” he asked.

Seonghwa’s fingers tightened in his hair. “Fuck yeah.”

Hongjoong didn’t need to be told twice. He bit down, not hard, but enough to make Seonghwa gasp, then soothed the spot with his tongue, kissing his way back up to his mouth. He met him eagerly, lips parting, tongue sliding against his in a slow, filthy rhythm that had Hongjoong’s pulse pounding. He could feel Seonghwa’s hands roaming down his back, under his shirt, fingers skimming over the ridges of his spine before settling at his waist. Then, suddenly, Seonghwa shifted, pushing Hongjoong back against the couch and straddling his lap in one smooth motion, catching Hongjoong’s breath. Seonghwa looked down at him with his lips kiss-bitten, and Hongjoong couldn’t stop his hands from sliding up his thighs, gripping the soft skin just above his knees.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Hongjoong muttered, dragging his palms up Seonghwa’s sides, thumbs brushing the underside of his ribs.

Seonghwa smirked, rolling his hips down in a slow grind that made Hongjoong’s fingers dig into his waist. “You like the view?”

Hongjoong exhaled sharply. “Yeah.”

Seonghwa leaned down, his lips brushing Hongjoong’s ear. “I look better with my shirt off.”

Hongjoong didn’t hesitate. His hands slid up Seonghwa’s stomach, his fingers grazing the warm skin before moving to the buttons, undoing them one by one. When the shirt hung open, Seonghwa lifted his arms, letting him slide it off completely. The second it was gone, Hongjoong’s mouth was on him again, kissing down his chest, tongue flicking over a nipple just to hear the way Seonghwa’s breath hitched.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa arched into the touch, and his fingers tightened in Hongjoong’s hair.

Hongjoong smirked against his skin, hands sliding down to grip his waist again. “I couldn’t stop looking at you,” he admitted in a low voice. “That night at the party. Your fucking waist drove me insane.”

Seonghwa laughed breathlessly. “Yeah?”

Hongjoong answered by biting down on the soft skin just above his hipbone, sucking a bruise there before dragging his tongue over it. Seonghwa shuddered above him, hips jerking forward.

“Hongjoong…”

Hongjoong ignored him, kissing lower, tracing the lines of his abs with his tongue, relishing every twitch of Seonghwa’s muscles under his mouth. Then, suddenly, Seonghwa grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up.

“Bedroom,” he panted. “Now.”

Hongjoong didn’t need to be told twice. Seonghwa grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the bedroom, their hips still bumping and grinding along the way in between kisses.

"You’ve been driving me insane all night.” Hongjoong admitted.

Seonghwa smirked, fingers already working to open the buttons of Hongjoong’s shirt. “You were staring a lot.”

“Obviously,” Hongjoong scoffed. His hands roamed greedily over Seonghwa’s chest, his abs, the sinful dip of his waist. “Look at you. All that muscle, and then this.” His fingers spanned the narrow curve, squeezing possessively. “Makes me want to ruin you.”

Seonghwa arched into his touch, a breathy laugh slipping out. “Then do it,” he murmured.

Hongjoong didn’t hesitate, dragging his lips down Seonghwa’s throat, biting at his collarbone just to hear the sharp inhale it earned him. Seonghwa then pushed him onto the bed, climbing over him. Seonghwa’s silver hair cascaded over one shoulder, and Hongjoong couldn’t resist reaching up to twist a strand around his finger.

"Pretty," he murmured.

Seonghwa leaned down, his lips brushing Hongjoong’s ear. "You should see how hard you make me," he said as he ground down just enough for Hongjoong to feel the heat of him through their clothes. "All from just your eyes on me."

That made Hongjoong’s breath hitch. Seonghwa slid off the bed, kneeling between Hongjoong’s legs, his fingers making quick work of his belt and zipper. The second his pants were shoved down, Seonghwa’s hand wrapped around him, stroking slowly, his thumb swiping over the head just to watch Hongjoong’s hips jerk.

"Fuck."

Seonghwa’s smirk was wicked as he leaned in and slowly took him into his mouth. Hongjoong’s head slammed back against the pillows, and a ragged curse tore from his throat. Seonghwa’s mouth was perfect; hot, wet, his tongue pressing against the underside of Hongjoong’s cock. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking him deeper with every bob of his head, and the slick, filthy sounds alone were enough to make Hongjoong’s thighs tremble.

"Seonghwa…" His fingers tangled in silver strands, holding on, because Seonghwa was relentless, taking him to the back of his throat like it was nothing, like he’d been starving for it. And then, god, he moaned around him, the vibration shooting straight to Hongjoong’s core.

"Look at me," he demanded in a breathy voice.

Seonghwa obeyed, lifting those dark, drowning eyes, lashes fluttering, lips stretched obscenely around him. The sight was too much. Hongjoong’s grip tightened in his hair, his hips lifting off the bed on instinct.

"Fuck, you take me so good." Hongjoong’s breath came in sharp bursts. "Just like that, baby."

Seonghwa hummed, the sensation wringing another broken moan from Hongjoong’s throat. He pulled off with a slick pop, tongue darting out to lick a slow stripe up the underside. "You taste even better than I imagined."

"Get up here," Hongjoong ordered, but Seonghwa didn’t. Instead, he sank back down, swallowing him whole again, his rhythm turning ruthless, sucking hard at the head before plunging deep again, his throat working around him in a way that had Hongjoong seeing stars.

"I’m not, fuck, I’m not gonna last."

Seonghwa’s only response was to press deeper, his nose brushing against Hongjoong’s stomach as he took him all the way, his fingers digging into his hips to keep him still. Hongjoong’s back arched off the bed, a strangled groan tearing from his lips as he came hard, down Seonghwa’s throat. Seonghwa swallowed every drop, his lips still working him through it, milking him until Hongjoong was shuddering, oversensitive and breathless. When Seonghwa finally pulled away, his lips were slick, and he was panting. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes locked on Hongjoong, then crawled back and captured his lips in a deep, filthy kiss.

Hongjoong groaned into it, tasting himself on Seonghwa’s tongue, and his hands roamed greedily over his body. He dragged his nails down his back, gripped the plush curve of his ass, squeezing hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks, making Seonghwa shudder, breaking the kiss with a gasp, his hips rolling down slowly.

"Need you," Seonghwa breathed in a wrecked voice. Their cocks slid together, slick with precome. The friction was maddening, making Hongjoong growl, so he flipped them in one fluid motion. Now Seonghwa was beneath him. Hongjoong trailed his mouth down the column of Seonghwa’s throat, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin, then lower, licking a stripe over a peaked nipple, biting at the sharp V of his hips. Seonghwa whined, twisting his fingers in the sheets.

"How do you want it?" Hongjoong murmured, lips brushing the sensitive skin just above Seonghwa’s cock, making Seonghwa’s breath hitch.

"You inside. Now. There's lube and condoms on the nightstand."

Hongjoong smirked, reaching for them. He coated his fingers thickly, watching the way Seonghwa’s thighs fell open further before pressing one finger in slowly, savoring the way Seonghwa’s body yielded to him.

"Fuck," Seonghwa arched off the bed, lips parting in a silent gasp, his rim fluttering around Hongjoong’s finger.

"Look at you," Hongjoong murmured. "So fucking tight for me."

Seonghwa moaned, his hips lifting impatiently. "More, please."

Hongjoong added a second finger, stretching him carefully, but Seonghwa chased it, rocking down, his cock leaking against his stomach. 

"There! Right there," he sobbed when Hongjoong scissored his fingers, rubbing relentless circles against his prostate.

Hongjoong leaned down, nipping at Seonghwa’s earlobe. "So good, taking my fingers so well." That made Seonghwa shudder, a whimper escaping his lips as he arched into the touch.

"You like this, don’t you?" Hongjoong realized suddenly, watching the way Seonghwa’s entire body thrilled at the praise. His breath caught and his thighs trembled, like he was starved for it.

Seonghwa whimpered again, clenching around him, his cock twitching. "Joong, fuck—"

"Gonna make you feel even better," Hongjoong promised, adding a third finger, thrusting deep, until Seonghwa was a writhing, gasping mess beneath him. Hongjoong preferred the teasing, so he kept up the fingering until he had Seonghwa sobbing, with his brows knit together and eyes nearly rolling back. Hongjoong loved it.

"Ah! Joong," Seonghwa whined, his fingers clawing at the sheets. "Please…"

But Hongjoong just smirked, curling his fingers just right, watching the way Seonghwa’s breath hitched.

"You sound so pretty like this," he murmured, dragging his free hand down Seonghwa’s chest. "But I think you can take a little more."

Seonghwa sobbed, his back arching off the bed.

"I can't! Please, I, ah, need you inside me, now." His voice cracked into a beg.

Hongjoong kissed him before giving him what he wanted, but the second he pulled back, Seonghwa flipped them, pressing Hongjoong into the mattress.

"I need to ride you." Seonghwa’s voice was raw. His fingers dug into Hongjoong’s chest. The hunger in his gaze was feral, his pupils dilated wide, his lips parted around uneven breaths. Hongjoong grinned up at him, which made Seonghwa want to throttle him and fuck him harder in the same heartbeat.

"Fuck, that look," Seonghwa groaned, his hips twitching where he was straddled over Hongjoong’s thighs. His neglected cock was flushed deep red, already leaking against his stomach. His fingers fumbled between them, tearing open the condom packet with his teeth before rolling it onto Hongjoong slowly, making him gasp.

Seonghwa braced himself with one hand on Hongjoong’s chest, the other guiding the tip against his entrance. He inhaled sharply before sinking down, slowly. His body yielded inch by inch until Hongjoong was fully sheathed inside him, stretching him open in a way that punched the air from both their lungs. Seonghwa’s thighs trembled violently, his back arching as he forced himself to relax, to take it. His fingers still clawed at Hongjoong’s chest, leaving red marks.

"God, you’re so thick," he whined, his head falling back as he rolled his hips experimentally, gasping at the overwhelming stretch. His silver hair clung to his damp forehead, sweat already beading along his collarbones. "Fills me up so good."

Hongjoong’s grip on his hips tightened, his fingers pressing hard enough to bruise, and his own breath ragged as he watched Seonghwa fall apart above him.

"Move," he ordered. "Show me how bad you wanted this."

Seonghwa obeyed. He started with slow rolls of his hips, grinding down in tight circles that made Hongjoong curse, his own cock twitching. But then the rhythm shifted, became sharper, more desperate. Seonghwa lifted himself up, only to drop back down, taking Hongjoong deeper with every punishing bounce.

"Fuck, yes, just like that," Hongjoong rasped, watching with attention as Seonghwa’s body moved above him. His cock bounced between them, neglected and dripping, precome smearing across both their stomachs. "So fucking perfect, baby."

Seonghwa whimpered at the praise, his rhythm faltering for a second before he doubled down, fucking himself harder on Hongjoong’s cock. His breath came in ragged gasps, his thighs burning with exertion. Then Hongjoong thrust up sharply, and Seonghwa’s vision whited out.

"Ah! Fuck, right there!" His back arched, fingers scrambling for purchase on Hongjoong’s chest, and his nails leaving angry red trails in their wake. Hongjoong hissed at the sting, but it only spurred him on, fucking up into Seonghwa with brutal precision.

"You gonna come like this?" Hongjoong taunted. "Just from my cock? Without even touching yourself?"

Seonghwa sobbed, his thighs shaking, and his body tightening around Hongjoong. "G-Close, so close…"

Hongjoong reached between them, wrapping a firm hand around Seonghwa’s leaking cock, stroking twice and that was all it took. He came with a broken cry, spilling over Hongjoong’s fingers, his stomach, and his thighs. His body clenched around Hongjoong, milking him as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, his hips stuttering uncontrollably.

But Hongjoong wasn’t done.

He flipped them without warning, pressing Seonghwa into the mattress with a growl. Seonghwa gasped, but Hongjoong didn’t give him a second to recover. He slammed back in, fucking him through the aftershocks, chasing his own release.

Seonghwa’s legs locked around his waist, his arms looping around Hongjoong’s neck as he was driven deeper and harder. Tears streaked down his flushed cheeks, his silver hair plastered to his face.

"Joong, ah! Too much!" he choked out, but his body arched into it, his nails raking down Hongjoong’s back in retaliation, making Hongjoong groan.

"You love it," he panted, leaning down to bite at Seonghwa’s throat, sucking a bruise into the sweat-slick skin. "You love, ah, being ruined."

Seonghwa keened, his cock twitching weakly between them, still half-hard despite his earlier release. His hands flew to Hongjoong’s wrists when he guided one of them down between their bodies, pressing against his own stomach.

"No…" Seonghwa whined, shaking his head, but his fingers twitched, betraying him.

"Go on," Hongjoong murmured, slowing his thrusts just enough to watch. "Touch yourself. Show me how much you want it."

"I can’t—" Seonghwa protested, but his hand drifted lower anyway, fingertips brushing his flushed cock before wrapping around it with a shudder. His hips jerked, a broken moan escaping him as he started to stroke himself slowly.

Hongjoong’s breath hitched, mesmerized. "Fuck, look at you," he rasped, his thrusts already turning uneven. "So fucking pretty."

Seonghwa’s thighs trembled when his strokes grew frantic, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Gonna come again?" Hongjoong murmured against his ear, his own rhythm faltering. "Gonna let me feel you squeeze around me one more time?"

Seonghwa shook his head, overwhelmed, but his body tensed around him. He spilled over his own fingers with a sob, his back arching off the bed as Hongjoong fucked him through it. He followed him over the edge with a ragged groan, burying himself deep as he spilled inside the condom, his hips jerking through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, they just breathed. Sticky, spent, tangled together in a mess of sweat and come and tear-streaked skin. Then Seonghwa lifted a trembling hand, brushing Hongjoong’s damp hair from his forehead.

"Damn," he exhaled in a wrecked tone.

Hongjoong laughed breathlessly, collapsing onto him with a satisfied hum. "Yeah."

After a moment, he shifted, pulling out with a gasp before carefully peeling off the condom and tying it. He tossed it aside lazily, his other hand still tracing idle patterns over Seonghwa’s hip. He watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, too exhausted to protest when Hongjoong leaned down to kiss him slowly and deeper this time.

They lay like that for a bit, bodies still half-entwined. Then Seonghwa tilted his head and said, “Are you hungry?”

Hongjoong blinked. “What?”

Seonghwa shrugged, not moving much. “I haven’t eaten since, like, noon. I’m thinking pizza?”

For some reason, that threw Hongjoong off more than anything that had just happened between them. He had expected to get dressed, maybe do the awkward hunt for his socks. He thought Seonghwa would hand him his shirt at the door and say that was fun with a wink.

But he just... wanted pizza?

“I mean... yeah,” Hongjoong said, uncertain. “Sure.”

Seonghwa grabbed his phone from the nightstand and rolled slightly to the side, grimacing at the stickiness of the sheets. “You cool with mushrooms?”

“Uh, yeah. Whatever works.”

A few taps later, the order was placed, and they migrated to the living room while they waited. Seonghwa pulled on a pair of sweats, and Hongjoong tugged on his boxers and pants again, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to his still-sweaty skin.

“Pick a movie,” Seonghwa said, already digging through the cabinet. “Wait, actually, no. I’m picking. Have you seen Star Wars?”

“Star Wars?” Hongjoong asked, raising an eyebrow, making Seonghwa gasp.

“Have you not seen any of them?”

“I mean... no? I’ve heard they’re kind of long and boring.”

Seonghwa clutched his chest like he’d been physically wounded. “You take that back.”

Hongjoong smirked. “You just had sex with a Star Wars hater. How do you feel?”

“Emotionally devastated. But also determined to educate you.”

Seonghwa put on A New Hope and settled beside him on the couch, pulling the blanket over both of them. That’s when Hongjoong noticed the shelf of Star Wars LEGO sets: ships, mini-figures, a tiny Death Star. He pointed.

“You’re a fan-fan.”

“Loud and proud,” Seonghwa said. “I used to build them with Yeosang. Now he’s too cool for it, but I still do sometimes when I’m stressed.”

“I didn’t picture you as a LEGO guy,” Hongjoong replied.

“I contain multitudes,” Seonghwa smiled.

They talked through the opening scenes, Seonghwa explaining too much, and Hongjoong pretending not to enjoy it. When the pizza arrived, they ate on the floor, now wrapped in the blanket. It felt... domestic. In a way that made Hongjoong a little nervous. After the movie ended, Seonghwa glanced toward the clock and then toward him.

“Yeosang’s not coming back tonight. You can crash here if you want.”

Hongjoong hesitated. This wasn’t how things usually went. Hookups were fast, sloppy, and always somewhere between convenient and forgettable. But this felt different. He liked the way Seonghwa’s voice dipped at the end of a sentence, the way his hair was still messy, and his mouth still a little swollen from earlier. He liked how quiet it was with him.

“I could stay,” Hongjoong said after a while. “But I need a shower first.”

Seonghwa grinned. “Only if I get to join.”

“You’re not gonna let me clean anything,” Hongjoong argued.

“In my defense, I don’t think you want to clean anything.”

...He wasn’t wrong.

They took longer than planned. Hongjoong dropped to his knees before the water even fully warmed up, swallowing Seonghwa down with a hunger that surprised even himself. When Seonghwa finally dragged him back up, their mouths crashed together. They kissed until their lips were raw and the water ran cold, but at least they managed to get somewhat clean. After, Seonghwa dug through his drawer and tossed Hongjoong a black t-shirt, a pair of lounge pants, and a fresh set of boxers. Hongjoong held them up, eyeing the underwear skeptically.

"These are gonna be tight."

"Why? You're tiny."

"Only in height," he said, stepping into the boxers. The fabric hugged his thighs snugly, and Seonghwa’s gaze lingered a bit too long.

"See? Fits perfectly." Seonghwa said, smiling.

"Pervert." Hongjoong rolled his eyes.

"You like it."

They settled under the covers after changing the sheets. The room smelled faintly of shampoo and fresh detergent. For a while, they talked about bands they liked growing up, embarrassing stage mishaps, and the first song they ever wrote. Then, somewhere in the middle of Seonghwa talking about buying his first bass at a pawn shop, his words started to slur. He shifted a little closer, and then he was out. Just like that.

Hongjoong watched him for a minute, amazed by how easily Seonghwa let his guard down. How calm he looked, with his mouth slightly open, and one arm loosely draped across his stomach. Like they’d done this a hundred times. He reached over, brushing a bit of hair from Seonghwa’s forehead. The silver strands were soft between his fingers.

What the hell are you doing, Hongjoong?

He sighed and rolled over, grabbing his phone off the nightstand. He had one new message from Yunho asked where he was.

Hongjoong:
sleeping here

Yunho:
ohhh
Don’t abandon us pls
We need you to split rent

Hongjoong stifled a laugh, silenced the phone, and tucked it away. Sleep didn’t come immediately. His thoughts were loud, but eventually, lulled by the warmth of Seonghwa’s breath, he let himself drift.

Chapter Text

The first thing that Hongjoong noticed was that the sun was too bright; it was warming the side of his face, and at first, he didn’t think much of it. He just shifted slightly, groaning under his breath, and rolled over to escape the brightness. His body felt heavy in that particular way it did on Sundays, and everything around him was quiet and warm enough to tempt him back to sleep, so he reached lazily for his phone to check the time. It was 9:02 a.m. That was earlier than he liked to be awake on a Sunday, way earlier. He considered turning back over and slipping under the covers again. That’s what he would do…

Except something didn’t feel right.

His brow furrowed. The sheets were too soft, and the room didn’t smell like his room. He blinked harder, now a little more alert, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar walls, the furniture, how everything was too clean… Then it hit him. He wasn’t home.

His body shot upright, and his heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest as his mind tried to catch up with reality. He turned, half expecting someone else to be in the room, already awake and waiting, but he was alone. The bed beside him was empty.

Right. Right.

Seonghwa.

Hongjoong ran a hand over his face, trying to decide if he was more embarrassed or confused. Had he overstayed? Was he supposed to have left earlier? He wasn’t exactly an expert in casual hookups, especially not the kind that involved sleeping over. He was the “leave before it gets weird” type.

What if Seonghwa’s out there, pissed off and waiting for me to get the hell out?

He started to panic, and the fact that his clothes were nowhere in sight didn’t help. Great. He rubbed his temples and debated whether sneaking out barefoot was even an option.

That was when he heard footsteps coming into the room. The door creaked open a second later, and Hongjoong turned, ready to apologize. But there was Seonghwa, standing casually in the doorway, looking unfairly good for this hour. His silver hair was tied loosely back with a few strands curling around his ears, and he wore an oversized T-shirt with a band logo and a pair of pale gray pajama shorts. He didn’t look angry, at least.

“You’re up,” he said with a smile.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong replied, still trying to mask how off-balance he felt. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to crash so hard.”

Seonghwa tilted his head, confused. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought… maybe I stayed longer than I should’ve?”

“It’s nine in the morning,” Seonghwa said slowly, like he was trying to understand a very bad joke. “Do you want to have breakfast?”

That caught him off guard. “You made breakfast?”

“Yeah. Come eat before it gets cold.”

Hongjoong blinked. “You didn’t have to—”

“I also tossed your clothes in the wash. They were kinda everywhere, so I hope that’s okay.”

“Wait. You did my laundry?”

Seonghwa leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed loosely. “You looked dead to the world. I figured you’d appreciate not having to put on wrinkled jeans. You’re welcome, by the way.”

It was a lot. It was so much.

Not in a bad way, just in a Hongjoong-didn’t-know-how-to-process-this kind of way. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I could’ve helped, you know.”

“You were asleep. What was I gonna do, shake you awake and hand you fabric softener?”

“I just mean you didn’t have to do all that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Look,” Seonghwa said with a playful sigh, “are you really gonna make me stand here and let the food get cold, or are you gonna stop being ungrateful and brush your teeth? There’s a new toothbrush in the second drawer.”

There was no edge to his voice; he didn’t sound annoyed or rushed, just amused, like this was exactly how he expected the morning to go. Hongjoong had no argument left. 

“Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

“Thought so,” Seonghwa said with a smug little smile, then turned and disappeared down the hall. After that, Hongjoong walked to the bathroom, closed the door behind him, and exhaled. There, alone, it was easier to admit he was freaking out a little.

He found the toothbrush where Seonghwa said it’d be; still unopened in the box, sitting neatly beside the floss and backup razors. That tiny detail made something twist in his chest. Why does he have extra toothbrushes? Not that it meant anything. Maybe he just liked being prepared. Maybe it was for Yeosang. Maybe it was just normal.

But it didn’t feel normal.

Hongjoong braced his hands against the counter, staring at his reflection. His blonde hair was a mess, his eyes were puffy, his lips looked vaguely swollen, definitely from all the kissing, and he was sure he had marks all over his back to pretend last night hadn’t happened.

He brushed his teeth in silence, trying to focus on the task instead of his spiraling thoughts, but it was difficult. This wasn’t how mornings after hookups usually went, not that he had them before, but he’d seen enough secondhand to know how it should go. Quietly collect your things, send a thank-you text if you feel like being polite, and try not to make eye contact on the way out. But Seonghwa had made him breakfast, washed his clothes, and kept an extra toothbrush in his drawer like he expected someone to stay.

And that someone was him.

Hongjoong rinsed his mouth, spat, and wiped his face with the towel, staring at himself again. Was this normal for Seonghwa? Did he do this every time someone stayed over? Was this just his version of being polite?

The thought made his stomach twist. He didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to know if this was normal for him, but he was also thinking about it a little too much.

He stared at his reflection one last time, smoothing his hands down his wrinkled borrowed shirt. It was too big at the shoulders but soft, and it smelled like Seonghwa. He took a breath and opened the door.

The smell of homemade meals hit him as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, still drying his hands on the towel tucked by the sink. It grounded him, a strange sense of domesticity pulling him further out of the haze of sleep and the mini crisis he'd just had in the mirror. He was still a mess, but his teeth were clean, and he hadn’t had a full breakdown. That counted for something. He followed the smell down the hall barefoot and rounded the corner to the kitchen.

Seonghwa was standing at the stove with his back turned. He was humming to himself as he was flipping something in a pan with practiced ease. There was already one plate set on the table, along with two cups of coffee, a tiny bottle of orange juice, and napkins folded neatly beside the plates. Hongjoong hovered at the edge of the room. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it definitely wasn’t this.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said after a while.

Seonghwa turned a little, smiling over his shoulder. “You say that like I made a four-course meal.”

“You’re...literally making pancakes.”

“They’re easy to make,” Seonghwa replied, flipping one more onto the plate. “There’s also eggs and bacon. Very basic stuff.”

Hongjoong stepped closer, eyes scanning the table. It looked good. It was the kind of thing he used to imagine making for someone someday if he ever got the chance, but now he was the one being served, and it messed with his head more than it should.

“I could’ve helped.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, “But you didn’t. So sit down before it gets cold.”

Hongjoong obeyed, slowly pulling out the chair and sinking into it.

It smelled even better up close, and the presentation was clean, even a little artsy: pancakes stacked, fruit on the side, a bit of powdered sugar dusted on top. The coffee was exactly how he liked it, too.

As Seonghwa set the last plate down and joined him, Hongjoong glanced up, catching the faint, dark smudges across his collarbone. His gaze trailed lower. There were marks along his neck, and he was sure there were even more beneath the shirt.

“Shit,” Hongjoong muttered under his breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think…”

Seonghwa followed his gaze, then waved it off with a laugh, grabbing his fork.

“I like them,” he said casually.

Hongjoong shook his head. “Still. I got a little carried away.”

“That’s the point,” Seonghwa said around a mouthful of pancake. “Isn’t it?”

Hongjoong didn’t know what to say to that. So he took a bite of his own, pretending to focus on the food. It was good, a little too good, which made everything worse, somehow.

There was silence for a while, just the clink of utensils and the sound of the fan whirring somewhere overhead. It was a classic Seoul summer morning, already heating up before noon, except he should’ve been home, working and preparing for the week. But he was here, across the table from someone he’d only known for a few weeks. Someone who cooked for him, cleaned up after him, and smiled like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re quiet,” Seonghwa said eventually, nudging his knee under the table.

“I’m eating.”

“I can almost hear your thoughts.”

Hongjoong laughed, took a sip of coffee, and said: 

“It’s just… a lot. All this. I don’t usually…”

“Sleep over?” Seonghwa offered.

“Do all of this.”

Seonghwa looked at him for a second, then a worried expression passed his face.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, no. I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It’s just… new.”

Seonghwa took a sip of his coffee, considering what Hongjoong said. “Well. I don’t usually do this either, if that helps.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So why?”

Seonghwa looked at him, and Hongjoong could swear that his gaze was softer. “Because I wanted to.”

Hongjoong’s stomach flipped, so he pushed more syrup onto his pancakes to hide it.

“Did you have any plans today?” he asked instead, trying to steer them into safer territory.

Seonghwa nodded. “Sort of. I got these amusement park tickets a while ago. Yeosang and I were supposed to go, but he had some family issues and he’s not coming back until later tonight.”

“Oh.”

“I was just gonna waste them. Unless…”

Hongjoong glanced up, and Seonghwa was already watching him.

“Wanna go with me?” he asked, sounding a bit insecure. “We don’t have to stay long. Just thought it might be fun.”

Hongjoong stared at his plate. He hadn’t planned anything for today. Sundays were usually for writing, maybe checking in with the band about arrangements. But he hadn’t been feeling inspired lately. He’d been in a weird, half-empty creative rut for weeks now. And despite the part of his brain screaming that this was a bad idea, that this was happening too fast, he found himself saying:

“Yeah, sure.”

Seonghwa brightened immediately. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, but I’ll drive,” Hongjoong replied.

“It’s my idea, you don’t have to—”

“I have to repay you, this food is delicious.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. When they finished, Hongjoong insisted on doing the dishes.

“You made breakfast,” he said, standing by the sink before Seonghwa could protest. “At least let me feel useful.”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were the domestic type.”

“I’m not. I just hate sitting around when someone’s doing everything.”

They fell into a quiet rhythm, Hongjoong washing and Seonghwa drying. For a while, it felt stupidly normal. This was the kind of domestic shit that belonged to people who’d been together for a while, not people who’d just met, hooked up, and accidentally turned it into a Sunday date.

Once the last dish was set to dry, Seonghwa grabbed a rag to wipe down the counter, and Hongjoong excused himself to go to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He sat on the closed toilet lid, with his back against the cool tile, and took out his phone. The group chat had twenty missed messages, mostly memes and Jongho complaining that they finished the cereal and no one told him. He hesitated a second, then typed:

Hongjoong:
not coming back til tonight

The reply was instant.

Yunho:
???
You're alive
Jongho:
Should we be worried or proud
Yunho:
Did you get kidnapped
Mingi:
Is he good in bed
Jongho:
Say “no” if you’re in danger

Hongjoong:
 stop
 I’m not dead
 and don’t make it weird

He tossed the phone onto the edge of the sink and stared at himself in the mirror.

Too fast.

When he came back, Seonghwa was on the couch again, flipping through TV channels. “Want to watch something before we head out?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Sure.”

They settled on some random movie. Hongjoong slouched comfortably into the couch cushions, and before long, Seonghwa’s legs were draped casually over his lap. It was easy. Strangely easy. But then Seonghwa muted the TV and turned to him with a grin.

“I want to work on something. You down?”

Hongjoong was shocked for a second, then agreed. 

They moved to the low table in front of the couch. Seonghwa reached under it, pulling out a small stack of notebooks, flipping through until he found one with a glossy black cover. It was covered in doodles, some tiny X-wings drawn in the corners, and a faded Darth Vader sticker on the back. He handed it over. 

“This one’s empty. You can keep it.”

Hongjoong raised a brow. “You give all your hookups Star Wars notebooks?”

Seonghwa just laughed. After bringing back his equipment, Seonghwa had gone back to working on the piece from the night before, mentioning offhandedly that it had to be perfect for some festival in the U.S. Hongjoong had heard of it, he was pretty sure their band had received an invitation too, but they hadn’t decided anything yet, mostly because of money.

After a while, it became clear Seonghwa didn’t need much help, so Hongjoong figured it was a good time to try writing again. He clicked his pen and opened the notebook. At first, it was nothing serious, just some phrases or ideas, but his mind kept drifting back to Seonghwa. His soft laughter, the way he kissed, how everything felt quieter when he was around. He stared at the page, the pen still in his hand. Then sighed, shut the notebook gently, and set it aside. Maybe later. He offered to help Seonghwa again.

By the time the clock read nearly 2 p.m., Seonghwa stood up and stretched, his shirt rising slightly to reveal the sharp line of his waist.

“I should change,” Seonghwa said, looking down at himself. “Unless you want to be the only one looking cool.”

Hongjoong scoffed. “You think I look cool?”

“You always do. It’s annoying.”

With a soft laugh, Seonghwa disappeared into one of the rooms, only to return a minute later holding a small stack of folded clothes. “These are Yeosang’s,” he said, handing them over. “He was going to donate them anyway. I think they’ll fit you better than my clothes.”

Hongjoong took the pile with a murmured thanks, inspecting the contents: all black, of course. A fitted t-shirt, worn-in jeans with subtle rips at the knees, and a thin bomber jacket. When he changed in the bathroom, he was surprised that the clothes did fit, surprisingly well. In the mirror, Hongjoong looked a little sharper than usual, the monochrome look contrasting with the pale of his hair. He ran a hand through his hair, then smoothed out the shirt, before stepping out.

Seonghwa was changed now too, and Hongjoong’s breath caught for a second. All black, like him, but he was wearing a black turtleneck, fitted pants, and black boots.

“You look good,” he said, maybe a little too quickly.

Seonghwa raised a brow. “You sound surprised.”

“You just… look too good.” God, Hongjoong. “Turtlenecks fit you well.”

Seonghwa smirked. “I had to hide the damage someone did.”

Hongjoong flushed, looking away, but Seonghwa was already slipping his phone into his pocket and grabbing his wallet. He gave Hongjoong a slow once-over, lips quirking.

“Damn,” he said. “The clothes look better on you than they ever did on Yeosang.”

“Should I be flattered or terrified he’ll find out and murder me?” Hongjoong asked, raising a brow.

That made Seonghwa laugh, stepping closer. “He’d probably thank you. He hates wasting anything.” His gaze dipped deliberately lower, and his voice dropped in a way that made Hongjoong’s skin prickle. “Also, you have a nice ass.”

Before Hongjoong could react, Seonghwa’s hand landed in a playful, unapologetic smack that made him jolt. Hongjoong shot him a glare that wasn’t entirely serious.

“Was that necessary?”

Seonghwa’s grin was infuriating. “Absolutely.”

Hongjoong chuckled under his breath, patting his pockets and fishing out his keys. “Alright. Let’s go before this turns into something else.”

Seonghwa nodded, but then he looked like he remembered something. “Wait, I have to bring an extra change of clothes for us.”

“What? Why?” Hongjoong asked in confusion.

“You’ll see.”

When he came back with a backpack slung over one shoulder, Hongjoong offered to carry it. They walked in comfortable silence. Outside, the sun had started its slow descent, casting long shadows across the street. They climbed into Hongjoong’s car. It rattled a little when he turned the key, but Seonghwa didn’t say a word. Instead, he pulled out his phone, opened his music app, and queued up a playlist. The first song was Taylor Swift.

“Seriously?” Hongjoong laughed, not at Seonghwa, but in surprise.

“What? You thought it’d be all emo?”

“…Yes?”

“I like good pop,” Seonghwa said simply. “Fight me.”

Seonghwa started to sing along, and Hongjoong couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, but his fingers were tapping the wheel to the beat. The drive didn’t take too long; they hit some weekend traffic near the Han River, but with Seonghwa’s singing in the background, Hongjoong realized he didn’t mind that much.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot of Seoul Land, the sun had finally warmed the air enough to make the breeze feel pleasant. Families were already pouring in with kids with sticky fingers holding giant balloons, couples wearing matching bucket hats, and girls posing for photos before the entrance gate. It wasn’t as flashy or chaotic as Lotte World, but there was something comforting about how normal it all felt. Hongjoong hadn’t been to a place like this in years.

They joined the entrance line. Seonghwa fished two crumpled tickets from his pocket and scanned them at the gate, nodding toward the turnstile. He walked ahead a few steps, then turned around with bright eyes. “Come on.”

“Are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?” Hongjoong called after him.

Seonghwa pulled a pamphlet from his back pocket, unfolded it, and pointed at a spot on the map. “Water gun fight. That’s the whole reason I brought extra clothes.”

“You’re joking.”

“It’s in the foam zone near Sky X. You pick a team, rent gear, and go wild!”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “You brought us all the way to Seoul Land just to get into a water fight?”

“You seemed like you could use a distraction.” Seonghwa smiled as he said it.

Hongjoong blinked, not sure what to say to that. “Right, a water gun fight. Very therapeutic.”

“I mean, it works for me,” Seonghwa said, adjusting the strap on his bag. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

Hongjoong considered it for a bit, then sighed. “No, I’ll do it. Might as well earn my free breakfast.”

Seonghwa let out a soft laugh, the tension breaking just slightly.

“I just hope you know I’m competitive,” Hongjoong added as they walked. “If you shoot me, we’re no longer on speaking terms.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Seonghwa said while laughing.

They made their way through the park, passing bright signs and screaming children. Near the back, just past the kiddie coasters, they found the foam zone. The courtyard was split in two, each side marked with flags and inflatable obstacles. Staff handed out color-coded vests and water guns, then ushered them to their respective corners. They stuffed their belongings into nearby lockers and changed into light clothing that Seonghwa had brought: shorts that were too big for Hongjoong, tank tops, and some sandals. 

Hongjoong barely had time to adjust his goggles before a horn blew and the chaos started. Kids and adults alike ran screaming through foam and water. People sprayed each other mercilessly. Hongjoong ducked behind a foam wall, loaded his gun, and caught Seonghwa in the back with a clean shot.

“You little—” Seonghwa spun around and charged.

The next fifteen minutes blurred into shrieks, soaked shirts, and foam flying everywhere. They lost their vests halfway through and didn’t bother going back. Hongjoong slipped on a slick tile and dragged Seonghwa down with him; Seonghwa retaliated by dumping a bucket of water over both their heads. By the time the final whistle blew, they were breathless, dripping, and laughing so hard it hurt.

They collapsed near the lockers, sitting on the pavement with water pooling around them. Hongjoong wiped his face with the hem of his shirt.

“You’re a menace, I’m filing a complaint.”

Seonghwa laughed. “You can complain once we’ve gone on a ride.”

Hongjoong looked at him. “A ride?”

“I bought tickets for the Black Hole.”

“The Black Hole?” Hongjoong asked.

“It’s iconic.”

“I thought we were getting fried chicken after this.”

Seonghwa leaned back on his elbows. “You’ll like it.”

They changed again and made their way toward the rollercoaster. The line was long. They moved slowly, the sounds of screams and metal grinding growing louder with every step. Hongjoong tried not to look at the steep drops or the loops twisting into the air while Seonghwa watched him with a worried expression.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Hongjoong tried to sound brave, but when they boarded the ride, strapping in side by side, the restraints clicked down, and the ride began its slow, painful climb, he didn’t realize that he started to grip Seonghwa’s hand until they reached the top.

The drop hit like a punch to the chest. Hongjoong couldn’t tell if he was yelling or just silently praying, but Seonghwa’s hand never left his. When it was over, they stumbled off the platform, breathless and shaking. Hongjoong wiped some tears from his face. They sat on the nearest bench in complete silence. Then, out of nowhere, Seonghwa laughed. A real, full-body laugh that made Hongjoong feel something warm on his chest. He laughed too, slumping sideways until their shoulders bumped.

“Never again. I hate you,” he muttered.

“It was fun!” Seonghwa said, still laughing.

“You’re crazy,” Hongjoong replied with a smile on his face. 

They sat there a while longer, letting the adrenaline settle. Around them, the park still moved on with kids crying, roaring rides, and music. The sun was still high, but the heat felt softer now. Eventually, Seonghwa nudged him.

“Want to get food?”

“God, yes.”

They walked without speaking at first, just the sound of the occasional drip of water from their still-damp hair trailing down the backs of their necks. Their shirts clung to them in awkward places, the extra clothes Seonghwa packed now the only thing standing between them and a walk of shame through Seoul Land. Hongjoong had to admit it: the water gun fight was kind of fun. Kind of. Even if a group of middle schoolers had cornered and soaked him from head to toe.

“Chicken?” Seonghwa asked, pointing toward a little food court near the carousel.

“Sure,” Hongjoong replied. “But I’m paying.”

Seonghwa turned to him, skeptical. “Why?”

“You got the park tickets, the clothes, and the food this morning. I’m not trying to get adopted.”

That earned him a laugh. “Fine. I’ll allow it.”

They ordered spicy fried chicken with tteokbokki on the side. Hongjoong handed over his card before Seonghwa could even try to argue again. When they finally sat down, Hongjoong took a moment to stretch his arms behind his back. He felt wrung out, like his body hadn’t caught up with how much energy he’d burned in the past few hours, but it wasn’t a bad feeling.

“You’ve got good aim,” Seonghwa said, biting into a wing.

“I used to be on a laser tag team,” Hongjoong replied, mouth half-full. “But only because I was short and could hide better.”

“That tracks,” Seonghwa said, nodding.

They ate quietly for a few minutes, trading bites and wiping their hands on the thin napkins. The sun was beginning to tilt a little lower now, casting softer light over the tables. It wasn’t golden hour yet, but it was close enough that the edges of everything looked warmer. Hongjoong leaned back a bit, chewing on a piece of tteok.

“You know,” he said, “I haven’t been to a place like this in years.”

“Seoul Land?”

“No, just… any amusement park. Carnival. Whatever.”

Seonghwa looked up. “Really?”

“Yeah. I think the last time I went to one, I was like, twelve. Maybe younger.”

Seonghwa tilted his head. “Why?”

Hongjoong shrugged. “My parents weren’t really the type. They weren’t big on outings. Or, you know…” He gestured vaguely at the chaos around them. “This.”

There was a pause. Seonghwa didn’t press, but he didn’t look away either.

“I used to ask,” Hongjoong went on, “when I was little. I’d beg them to go places like Everland or the aquarium or whatever. And they’d always say they were tired, or busy, or that it was too expensive. After a while, I just stopped asking.”

Seonghwa frowned a little. “That sucks.”

Hongjoong nodded. “It is what it is.”

“But still.”

“I mean, yeah,” he said, poking at the chicken bone on his plate. “I always hated these kinds of places, or thought I did. But today didn’t feel so bad.”

He glanced up, and Seonghwa was watching him with something softer in his expression. He had a soft smile on his face. There was a kind of stillness in his face that made Hongjoong feel like the rest of the park had gone dim, like everything else had been pushed just a little out of focus.

“I think it’s just you,” he said before he could stop himself. “Like… it’s easy to be here because you’re easy to be around.”

Seonghwa blinked, clearly surprised. Then, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’m glad.”

Hongjoong looked down again, suddenly self-conscious. He wasn’t the type to say things like that, but he hadn’t been lying. The day had gone by fast because Seonghwa made all of it feel manageable. It was less like a test of patience and more like something he was allowed to enjoy.

He watched as Seonghwa licked a smear of sauce from his thumb, talking about the last time he’d gone to Seoul Land with his cousins. His hands moved when he spoke, and his eyes crinkled when he laughed. There was a mark just above his collarbone that the turtleneck didn’t quite cover, and Hongjoong tried not to look at it. He focused on his food instead. He chewed slowly, savoring the spice on his tongue and the sound of Seonghwa’s voice cutting gently through the distant noise of the park.

“I’m full,” Seonghwa announced, wiping his mouth.

Hongjoong looked at the few pieces left on the plate. “You gonna eat that?”

Seonghwa pushed it toward him. “All yours.”

He popped it in his mouth, licking sauce from his fingers. “So what now?”

Seonghwa leaned back in his chair, squinting at the sky. “Want to walk around? Or just sit here till we turn into puddles?” Hongjoong pretended to consider.

“If I sit too long, I think I’m gonna fall asleep. Let’s walk.”

Seonghwa just smiled. They stood and dumped their trays, slowly making their way back toward the heart of the park. They wandered aimlessly for a while, letting the fullness settle and the midday energy wear off. They stumbled into a souvenir shop near the edge of the main plaza, it was filled with overpriced plushies, cheap fans, and themed water bottles. Seonghwa immediately gravitated toward a small shelf stacked with plush toys. He reached out for a white bear with a tiny pink cap and stars on its cheeks and turned it around in his hands with his eyes a little too fond. Hongjoong noticed.

"You like it?" he asked, leaning slightly to peek.

Seonghwa blinked, like he was caught. “It’s cute. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Hongjoong said, already walking toward the cashier. “Stay here.”

“What? No—Hongjoong, no.”

But he was already at the counter, pulling out his wallet.

“You don’t have to do that,” Seonghwa said, following after him, looking genuinely flustered. “Seriously.”

“It’s just a thank you,” Hongjoong replied, waving him off. “Let me do this.”

The transaction was quick, and before Seonghwa could protest again, the bear was in his hands. He stared at it like it had just been handed down from the gods.

“I’m going to fight you,” he muttered, but he was smiling.

“I’d win.”

Seonghwa hugged the plush to his chest dramatically. “Still worth it.”

They walked again, trailing behind the louder parts of the park. The sky had turned golden, the edges of buildings catching the light, and the shadows growing longer with each passing minute. They found a quieter path that curved behind one of the big rollercoasters, where fewer people wandered.

“Hey,” Seonghwa said while pausing, making Hongjoong turn to him. “Can I take a picture?”

“Of me?”

Seonghwa nodded, already pulling out his phone. “You look cool right now.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “Cool how?”

“Cool in general. Now stand by that fence, the light’s perfect.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes but obeyed, placing a hand on the rusting metal railing. He tilted his head and smirked a little.

“No, no,” Seonghwa said from behind the camera. “Try facing me. Okay, now serious face. Chin down… a little more. There.”

Click.

“Now pretend you’re annoyed.”

“I don’t need to pretend.”

Click.

“Smile.”

Hongjoong let out a small huff of a laugh that made his eyes crinkle. Click. Seonghwa lowered the phone with a soft laugh.

“You’re good at this.”

“Maybe I should go into modeling.”

“Maybe,” Seonghwa replied. He raised the plushie up and tucked it under his arm, then posed with it against his chest, looking dramatically into the distance. Hongjoong snorted.

“Wait, wait. That’s actually kind of good,” he said, grabbing the phone. “Let me take a few of you now.”

He directed Seonghwa without thinking: “Look over your shoulder,” “Turn a bit,” “Hold the bear like it’s your child,” and Seonghwa followed, laughing the entire time.

The light hit just right. The silver in his hair glowed, and the black outfit contrasted perfectly with the warm tones behind him. He looked like a magazine spread. Unfairly beautiful. Hongjoong took a step back to capture a wider shot, lowering the camera for a second just to look at him. Just… look.

“You okay?” Seonghwa asked after seeing him pause.

“Yeah. Just… you look good.”

Seonghwa blushed, and before either could say more, a girl nearby approached, her boyfriend trailing behind.

“Sorry, excuse me,” she said, “Would one of you mind taking a photo of us?”

“Of course,” Seonghwa replied, already stepping forward. He took her phone and positioned them with the golden hour behind. He took at least five photos.  

“Thank you!” she said after checking them. Then, after a moment: “You two look great, by the way. Want me to take one of you together?”

There was a small beat of silence, then Seonghwa said, “Sure,” handing her his phone.

Hongjoong blinked in surprise, but stepped closer. Seonghwa looped a hand casually around his arm and threw up a peace sign with the other. Automatically, Hongjoong mirrored it. They smiled. The light behind them was brilliant. Seonghwa tilted his head toward him, just slightly, enough that their cheeks almost touched. The plush was still tucked under his other arm.

Click.

When she handed the phone back, they both thanked her. She waved and left, and for a moment, they stood there together in silence.

Seonghwa opened the photo app and scrolled to the last one.

In the picture, it wasn’t obvious he was holding onto Hongjoong’s arm, but it was there if you looked. Their smiles looked genuine and the sunset behind them made everything glow. They looked good, really good.

Seonghwa showed it to him. “We look good together.”

Hongjoong’s heart stuttered for a bit too long. Together like what? Like this? In the picture? In this moment?

“Yeah,” he said finally. “We do.”

They kept walking, neither saying much after that. The sky turned pink, then purple. The park lights flickered on one by one. And slowly, they made their way to the exit. The drive back was quiet, but not in a bad way; it was comforting. Hongjoong kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting in his lap, fingers drumming absentmindedly. The sky outside had darkened completely now, and Seoul's lights blinked through the windows. Seonghwa was reclined slightly in the passenger seat, the plushie still tucked into his arms.

“I’m glad you came,” he said quietly, glancing over. Hongjoong gave a small smile, keeping his eyes on the road.

“You’re the one who invited me.”

“To Seoul Land,” Seonghwa clarified, nudging his shoulder lightly. “But yeah. Thanks for driving and… everything else.”

They pulled into the curb outside Seonghwa’s place, but neither of them moved to open the door.

“Kind of weird how nice it was,” Hongjoong said after a moment, trying not to look at Seonghwa.

“Yeah,” Seonghwa replied. “I thought you didn’t like amusement parks.”

“I don’t.”

Seonghwa laughed under his breath, and there was another pause. A car passed by slowly behind them.

“You really haven’t been to one since you were a kid?” Seonghwa asked, turning toward him.

Hongjoong nodded. “Not since… I don’t know, maybe elementary school?”

Seonghwa didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, gently: “That sucks.”

“Yeah. It’s fine, though. Just… not really a thing I got used to doing.”

“Well,” Seonghwa said in a softer voice now, “I’m glad today gets to count, then.”

Hongjoong looked at him. Seonghwa was smiling again, that same expression he’d worn earlier, but there was something different this time. His fingers fiddled with the edge of the plushie’s hat, like he was thinking of something else.

Neither of them moved.

And then Seonghwa said, a little too casually, “I really don’t want to get out yet.”

Hongjoong laughed quietly. “Then don’t.”

“Then I’d fall asleep here.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Seonghwa turned slightly in his seat to face him more fully. “Thanks again. I mean it.”

“Yeah.”

Another silence. This one heavier. Hongjoong could feel the air shift, feel the weight of Seonghwa’s gaze even when he tried not to look at him directly. But then he did. Seonghwa was looking at him. No, he was looking at his mouth. Hongjoong swallowed. His pulse picked up before he could reason it down, his thoughts spiraling into panic and different possibilities. He couldn’t decide if the heat rising in his chest was nerves or want. Maybe both.

And then… buzz.

Seonghwa blinked and looked down. His phone screen lit up with a message. Hongjoong could see Yeosang’s name on the notification.  Seonghwa exhaled through his nose.

“Well,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Guess that’s my cue.”

Hongjoong felt something sink low in his gut. “Yeah. Right.”

Seonghwa paused with his hand on the door, then glanced back at him with a small grin. “Best date I’ve ever had.”

The word landed like a firecracker in Hongjoong’s head. Date.

He didn’t think. Didn’t stop.

He just reached out, grabbed Seonghwa lightly by the front of his shirt, and pulled him back. Their mouths met; soft, fast, hungry.

Seonghwa inhaled sharply through his nose but didn’t hesitate. He leaned into it, tilted his head slightly to deepen it. His fingers slid up into Hongjoong’s hair without asking, cradling the back of his neck like he didn’t want to let go.

Hongjoong kissed him like he’d been holding it back for the whole day. Maybe he had.

Seonghwa pulled back first, just barely. His lips were red and his breathing uneven, and god, he was beautiful. Hongjoong leaned in again, and caught another kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Another buzz. The phone again.

Seonghwa groaned softly, resting his forehead against Hongjoong’s for a second before pulling away completely. He looked at his screen and sighed.

“I should go before Yeosang starts thinking I got kidnapped.”

Hongjoong nodded, still in a daze. “Right.”

Seonghwa lingered at the door, hand on the handle, but his eyes were still on Hongjoong.

“I hope we get to do this again,” he said quietly.

Hongjoong’s chest ached. “Me too.”

Seonghwa smiled, opened the door, and slipped out into the night. Hongjoong watched him walk to the door of his building with one hand waving back and the other still clutching the plush bear.

Then he was gone.

Hongjoong sat there in silence for a long moment. He didn’t put on music on the way back; he just drove. No thoughts. Just the taste of Seonghwa still lingering on his lips.

When Hongjoong opened the front door to the apartment, the scent of hamburgers hit him first. Jongho’s voice called out from the living room.

“Ya! Took you long enough.”

They were all gathered on the couch, halfway through a movie, burger wrappers and paper cups spread across the table. Yunho was curled into one end of the couch with a blanket, Jongho in the middle, a half-eaten burger in one hand, his eyes fixed on the screen. Mingi sat on the floor, leaning back on the couch with his laptop open, probably trying to work and watch at the same time. All three of them looked up when they noticed Hongjoong’s silhouette in the doorway.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Jongho asked, immediately suspicious.

Hongjoong looked down at himself. Definitely not his usual mix of clothes and clunky accessories.

“You look really good,” Yunho added with his mouth full.

“Okay, first of all,” Hongjoong kicked his shoes off, “this is Yeosang’s old stuff. Don’t get used to it.”

Mingi raised an eyebrow. “Yeosang? That’s the name of the bassist?”

“No, no. His name is Seonghwa.”

The room fell quiet for a second. Jongho narrowed his eyes.

“You were with Seonghwa, wearing this Yeosang’s clothes… what exactly did you do?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Hongjoong said, trying not to smile. “Seonghwa invited me to Seoul Land. He said Yeosang, the other vocalist, couldn’t go, so…”

“You went instead and wore his clothes,” Yunho said with a grin. “Damn, substitute boyfriend arc unlocked.”

“Shut up.” Hongjoong plopped down between Mingi and Jongho, eyeing the takeout bags. Jongho slid a wrapped burger toward him.

“We got you one too,” he said.

“Thanks.” Hongjoong unwrapped it, the smell making his stomach growl.

“So,” Jongho smirked, watching him take a bite. “Is that why you look like you’re glowing and also traumatized?”

Hongjoong felt his face flush. “We did almost die on a ride.”

“And then what?” Yunho leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “You guys held hands and swore eternal friendship?”

Hongjoong focused on his food. “You guys are so annoying.”

They laughed and let it go. The movie continued, but Hongjoong could barely focus. His heart was still beating too fast, and his mind was still rushing. Every time the movie got quiet, he heard Seonghwa’s voice in his head. Best date I’ve ever had.

He didn’t even realize he’d stopped eating until Jongho offered him a drink, which he waved off. The others were half-asleep by the time the movie ended. As the credits rolled, Hongjoong stood up and stretched.

“Shower and bed,” he said.

“Sweet dreams, loverboy,” Jongho muttered without looking up. He ignored him and walked to the bathroom. When he looked in the mirror, it hit him again; none of what he was wearing belonged to him. The shirt, the jeans, the jacket. All of it was Yeosang’s. All of it was still a little Seonghwa, too. And he’d completely forgotten to take his own clothes back from Seonghwa’s place. He grabbed his phone, ready to text him, but there was already a message waiting:

Seonghwa:
Today was really fun. Thank you again.

Hongjoong stared at the screen for a moment, then typed:

Hongjoong:
I forgot my clothes at your place lol

Seonghwa:
you were too distracted…
I’ll keep them safe for next time.

Next time.

Hongjoong stood there a moment longer, the phone warm in his hand. Then he smiled, set it down, and turned on the shower. Later, when he walked back into the living room with a towel around his neck, he found Mingi sitting on the couch again, laptop reopened with headphones on. He could see that he was editing something. Hongjoong flopped down beside him, still damp, watching the screen in silence. When Mingi noticed, he slid the headphones off one ear.

“You good?”

Hongjoong nodded. Then shook his head. “I think so.”

“Want to talk about it?” Mingi said after pausing the music. Hongjoong thought about it a bit, but he really didn’t want to go to sleep overthinking this. He exhaled.

“I don’t know. We spent the whole day together and it was fun, really fun, but…” He hesitated, then added, “It scared me a little.”

Mingi turned to look at him properly. “Scared you how?”

“I don’t usually do this,” Hongjoong said in a quiet voice now. “Hang out with someone like that. Click so easily. And he’s… he’s not what I expected. It wasn’t just fun, it felt like…” He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “It felt a little too real.”

Mingi was quiet for a moment, then said: “And that freaks you out?”

“Kind of. Yeah.”

“Well…” Mingi leaned back. “He invited you, spent the whole day with you, and let you see him scream his lungs out on a ride. If that’s not real, I don’t know what is.”

Hongjoong let out a breath, not quite a laugh. “You’re more romantic than I expected.”

“I’ve been writing ballads lately,” Mingi said with a shrug. “But seriously, if it felt good, maybe don’t run from it. You don’t have to know what it is right now.”

Hongjoong nodded, slowly. His fingers tapped against his leg.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, maybe.”

They stayed like that in silence for a bit, until Mingi was falling asleep. Hongjoong went back to his room and shut the door with a soft click behind him. He put on his usual pajamas: an old black tank and sweatpants that had definitely seen better days. Then he plugged in the hairdryer and began to towel out his hair. When he finally flopped into bed, he grabbed his phone to check the time and found a series of notifications waiting for him. One new message from Seonghwa. He tapped it open.

Seonghwa:
Here, I figured you’d want these.

Attached were a handful of shots from the park. The first few were the ones Seonghwa had taken: Hongjoong leaning against the fence, serious-faced; the half-smile one, sunlight catching in his hair; one where he was laughing, mid-protest, at Seonghwa’s direction. There was also one of Seonghwa himself that he probably sent by accident and, at the very end, the picture the girl had taken of them together.

Seonghwa:
You look good. We both do.

Hongjoong stared at the message, then went back to the last photo. It made his stomach do something stupid. He stayed there a long moment, just cycling through the small set. Then another message popped up.

Seonghwa:
Hey, what’s your insta? I wanna tag you.

Hongjoong blinked; he hadn’t expected that. He almost never posted personal stuff; his Instagram was mostly band updates, clips from shows, and the occasional landscape shot. He hovered his thumb over the keyboard, chewing the inside of his cheek, then sighed. Screw it.

Hongjoong:
no1likeme8_8

It only took a few seconds before the notification came in: @_starhwa_ started following you.

He tapped the profile and followed him back. Seonghwa’s feed was cohesive without trying too hard. All of the photos were of him alone, and his highlights were organized by city: Seoul, Busan, Gyeongju, Jeju. Mixed in between were clips of his band, videos of them onstage, in rehearsal, or at some party. In every highlight, Seonghwa looked completely at ease. His hair changed color in nearly every reel. Blonde, black, long, short, pink.

He was really handsome.

Just as he was scrolling through a reel from Seoul, Seonghwa in a green coat, walking in the rain, a new notification popped up.

@_starwha_ mentioned you in a post.

Hongjoong’s thumb froze. Then he clicked.

The post was a small photo dump of five pictures. First came the one of them together, the second was Seonghwa alone, leaning against the railing. Then one of their shadows stretched long across the pavement, but he didn’t know when Seonghwa took it. The fourth was Hongjoong from behind. And the last was a shot of the small plushie that had to be from Seonghwa’s apartment, perched on the edge of a windowsill. The caption read:

"i love summer."

And Seonghwa had shared it in his story, too. Hongjoong stared at the screen with his heart doing something traitorous in his chest. He wasn’t the type to post much. Most of his Instagram was archived, and what remained were some blurry gig photos and one mirror selfie from four months ago.

He didn’t want to overthink it, but… He tapped the little paper airplane icon and shared Seonghwa’s post to his own story. He didn’t know what to write, so he just picked a recommended sticker of summer vibes or some shit. That was enough.

He locked his phone and let it fall to the bed beside him.

It was stupid to feel this way. They’d only spent two days together. It was a little ridiculous, wasn’t it? He didn’t know Seonghwa. Not really.

And yet…

His eyes flicked to his desk, where the notebook Seonghwa had bought him still sat, unopened. He’d almost left it in the car earlier, but figured it might come in handy. Hongjoong got up and padded over, flipping it open to a fresh page.
He stared at the blank paper for a second. Then, without thinking too hard, he began to write:

hot and miserable, but totally in love

i love the way you have with me.

i love your big eyes and soft gaze.

i love like a boy loves a boy.

i love being up at 9 am.

i love the night.

i love summer.

i am loving this.

and you and everything.

you cant miss me, baby boy, we’re doing big things.

He stopped there, blinking at what he’d just written. It didn’t make much sense. It was too exaggerated and a little messy, definitely over the top. It wouldn’t work as lyrics yet, he’d have to fine-tune it later, but at least he wrote something.

He let the pen drop onto the page and rubbed at his eyes, suddenly sleepy again. After a moment, on impulse, he grabbed his phone. There was still one more thing buzzing in his mind. He opened a message to their manager.

Hongjoong:
hey
random question
what’s the timeline for that U.S. festival you mentioned?
should we try to go?

He hit send.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Hongjoong was already at the table, with his spoon idly dragging through a half-finished bowl of yogurt while his phone lit up every few seconds at his side. His heart hadn’t slowed down since last night, and sleep had come and gone. He was thinking about the festival, about money, about the possibilities. About Seonghwa. Mostly Seonghwa. Yunho sat down across from him first, dressed neatly as every morning; he was working part-time at a dance academy nearby, teaching kids and helping choreograph idol auditions.

“You look like hell,” he said, yawning as he poured milk into his cereal.

“I’ve been thinking,” Hongjoong muttered.

Yunho gave him a long, cautious look. “Dangerous.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know,” Yunho replied, spoon halfway to his mouth. “That’s why I’m worried.”

Before Hongjoong could argue, Jongho stumbled in, still in pajamas. He dropped into the chair next to Hongjoong and groaned, “Finals are killing me.”

“Morning,” Hongjoong said.

Jongho just grunted and started picking the marshmallows out of Yunho’s cereal box. Mingi appeared last, with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“You okay, hyung?” he mumbled around the foam.

“Can you not?” Yunho said, wrinkling his nose, but Mingi just ignored him, shuffling toward the sink. After Mingi came back, Hongjoong tapped his phone against the table, trying to gather enough courage to speak.

“Alright. About that festival in L.A.,” he said. The room went a little quieter. Everyone knew what he meant; they’d talked about it before, thought about it, and dropped it once the numbers started looking ugly.

Jongho looked up from his cereal with his brows raised. “Didn’t we already decide it’s too expensive?”

“Yeah, but hear me out.” Hongjoong leaned forward. “If we split housing and food, it’s not impossible. And I’ve got some savings, enough to cover extra if we come up short.”

“Wait, you’re actually saying we could still go?” Mingi asked.

Hongjoong nodded. “I talked to the manager to check flights. It’s not as bad as we thought.”

“Hold on. Why do I feel like this sudden motivation has something to do with Vesper?” Yunho asked, making Hongjoong freeze.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Yunho continued, narrowing his eyes. “I saw their name on the lineup.”

“Okay, yes. They’re going, but that’s not why.” He sat up straighter, defensive. “Look. Even if they weren’t going, this is the kind of thing we’ve been saying we want. We can do local gigs forever, or we can try something bigger. I believe in our music. And if I need to put my own money in, I will.”

The table went quiet except for the crunch of Jongho eating marshmallows. After a while, he shrugged.

“I mean… it’s kind of crazy. But I’m not against it.”

“I’ve never been to L.A.,” Mingi said with a grin. “And I’ve always wanted to perform outside of Korea. Imagine us, in some bar on Sunset Boulevard or something.”

Yunho sighed, rubbing his temple. “It’s a good opportunity, but I just don’t want you to get distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” Hongjoong said quickly.

Yunho didn’t look convinced, but he nodded anyway. “Fine. Let’s try.”

“I’ll talk to the manager again today,” Hongjoong said, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips.

By the time Yunho went to work and Mingi and Jongho to their classes, Hongjoong stayed in his room for a while, working on the band logistics and checking emails. But no matter how hard he tried to focus, his thoughts kept drifting to the photo Seonghwa posted, to the words: I love summer. How cute he’d looked holding that stupid plushie. To his voice. His laugh.

It was stupid.

It wasn’t like him. Hongjoong had dated before, casually and seriously, but this… this felt different. Or maybe it was just him who was different now. He hated not being in control of his emotions, hated the way one person could change the temperature of his entire day just by existing in his mind. He’d barely known Seonghwa for what? Two days? That shouldn’t be enough to drive him this crazy. And yet here he was, staring at his phone, waiting for another text from Seonghwa. Annoyed at himself, he threw his phone across the bed and forced himself back to work.

His shift at the recording studio was the same as always, just checking cables, setting up microphones, and running small errands between sessions. He didn’t have an important title, more like an assistant, but he didn’t mind. The pay was good, and he enjoyed meeting different artists and being close to the kind of environment he aspired to for himself. Sometimes he was asked to sit in and take notes, to tidy up after a session, or just to wait until someone needed an extra pair of hands. That afternoon, he clocked out a little before sunset and drove home.

When he got back to the apartment, kicked his shoes off, and dropped his keys onto the dish by the door, he remembered: the manager. He’d forgotten to check his reply. Hongjoong grabbed his phone and opened the message thread.

Manager:
Flights are available. I checked the festival details, it’s July 2nd to 4th, so in three weeks
You’ll need to submit forms next week for lineup confirmation. If you’re sure, I’ll start on bookings. Let me know how long you plan to stay

Hongjoong exhaled, three weeks. He typed back.

Hongjoong:
  we’re in
 let’s try to stay at least until the 6th if flights allow
 I’ll talk with the guys again just in case, but you can start looking
 thank you so much, hyung

Once it was sent, he walked into the living room, where Jongho was lying on the couch with his laptop on his stomach. He plopped down beside him, reached for the remote, and chose a movie that looked interesting. Fifteen minutes passed in silence, just the sound of Jongho clicking away at his keyboard, and a car chase on screen. After a while, he pulled out his phone and opened Seonghwa’s chat.

Hongjoong:
 we’re going to the festival too

It only took a few minutes before Seonghwa replied.

Seonghwa:
Really?! that’s amazing
I’m so glad. I hope we get to hang out there too<3

He looked at the little heart for a moment, then tapped into Seonghwa’s profile again, and his recent post; the one with them together. Hongjoong scrolled down. Curiosity got the best of him, so he opened the comments. There were mostly comments praising his looks, but one comment stood out.

seonghwa-ssi, who is he?

And Seonghwa’s reply:

just a friend :)

Just a friend.

Something twisted in his stomach; it didn’t sit right. Sure, technically, “friend” was already stretching it; a stranger might’ve been closer considering they had sex and spent a day together by chance, nothing more official than that. Still, the word didn’t feel right.

His eyes skimmed further. Another comment: you two look good together, to which Seonghwa had replied with nothing but a soft smiley emoji. Hongjoong turned his phone face down and sank deeper into the couch, making Jongho glance over.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah, just tired.”

The following night, they dragged themselves into Hongjoong’s studio. It wasn’t really a studio; it had once been his father’s workshop, but Hongjoong had begged to take it over when his father planned to rent it.

“Are you sure the neighbors don’t care that we practice this late?” Mingi asked while dropping his backpack with a thud.

Hongjoong smirked. “There are no neighbors. The closest house is a fifteen-minute walk, that’s why it’s perfect.”

“Perfect for murder, too,” Jongho muttered, pulling out his laptop.

“Shut up and set up your mic,” Hongjoong replied.

They started by preparing everything while talking about their days. When everything was set up, Hongjoong was the first one to talk.

“Alright. We need to discuss the setlist before we start.”

Yunho leaned against his amp. “Festival sets are shorter, right? Like, thirty minutes max?”

“Depends on the slot,” Hongjoong replied. “Opening acts usually get twenty. If we’re lucky and it’s not the parking-lot stage, yeah, thirty”

“So what’s the plan? Our classics, or are we throwing in the new stuff?” Mingi asked.

“We don’t have classics. We have like ten singles and some demos.” Hongjoong replied.

“That’s classic for us,” Jongho replied, making Mingi snort.

“Okay, but for real,” Yunho said. “Crowds at festivals don’t wanna hear deep cuts, they need energy.”

“Then we open with Sugar, We’re Going Down,” Mingi said immediately. “That one always hits.”

“Yeah, that works,” Hongjoong agreed. “Then maybe Dance, Dance? It’s short.”

“Dance, Dance has to stay,” Jongho said.

“Grenade Jumper could be fun too,” Yunho added.

“And we can finish with XO!” Mingi proposed.

Everyone paused, thinking it over.

“Yeah… that’s actually perfect,” Yunho admitted.

“Finally, my genius is respected,” Mingi said, grinning.

“Shut up,” Jongho muttered, but he was smiling too.

Hongjoong jotted it all down in the notebook Seonghwa had given him.

“That’s five. If we get more time, we can throw in another one.” He smiled at his band members. “We’ll test them at practice and see what feels right.”

They all nodded; they could already feel the excitement. And so, the setlist started to take shape.

Their days bled together: work, school, then the long ride to the studio. Sometimes they left sweaty and exhilarated; other times, frustrated and sore, but slowly, the set took shape. They argued a lot, and they laughed even more.

Meanwhile, finals season crushed the younger two. Jongho and Mingi arrived late more often than not, citing group projects and presentations. Hongjoong let them nap during breaks, even though it meant less rehearsal. He wasn’t heartless. When finals finally ended, it was like watching two prisoners released from solitary confinement.

By then, the songs sounded good. Not perfect, they never felt perfect to Hongjoong, but good enough that he caught himself imagining Lost Signal on the stage. And then, inevitably, imagining Seonghwa in that crowd.

Life outside the studio didn’t stop. Yunho spent his mornings drilling kids through choreo routines, Mingi balanced his student life with working at a café, and Jongho basically lived in the library until finals ended, then celebrated by sleeping twelve hours straight.

And Hongjoong… he worked his shifts at the recording studio, then stayed up too late tweaking setlists, emailing the manager, stressing about money. His savings were going to shrink faster than he liked, but he refused to admit it.

One night, after a particularly rough run-through, they collapsed in the studio, sweaty and exhausted.

“Okay,” Mingi panted. “That was… actually good. Like, festival-worthy good.”

“Really?” Yunho asked.

“Yeah.” Mingi grinned. “I’m proud of us.”

“Don’t get sappy,” Jongho warned.

“Shut up. I’m being sincere for once.”

Hongjoong sat back against the wall, watching his bandmates tease each other. His chest felt heavy, but not in a bad way. They were good. They were ready.

The last week of June blurred into the same loop: rehearsals, last-minute changes, and rushing home half-dead. Everything Hongjoong had expected, but what he hadn’t expected was the quiet that followed after Seonghwa’s last text. Not a single message since.

He told himself it made sense; everyone was busy practicing for the festival. The second the band stumbled into the apartment after practice, they collapsed. Weekends weren’t any better, either spent discussing arrangements or just catching up on sleep. Still, somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d been waiting for Seonghwa to ask him out again, but he never did. And Hongjoong, being just as stubborn, hadn’t tried either, so he couldn’t really complain.

Their flight was scheduled early in the morning, and the group stumbled into the airport with their sunglasses, caps, and travel bags. Their manager checked them in, fussed over the passports, and they boarded. On the plane, Jongho sat next to Hongjoong. Mingi and Yunho ended up a couple of rows behind, already bickering about who’d get the aisle seat. Hongjoong just put his AirPods on and slept.

Hours later, the L.A. skyline came into view, sprawling and glowing in the late afternoon haze. By the time they cleared customs and piled into a van with their luggage, Hongjoong’s body ached from sitting, but his excitement overlapped it. This was it. Different continent, bigger stage, more opportunities.

At the hotel, their staff handled most of the check-in while the boys waited in the lobby, still yawning. Yunho and Hongjoong ended up in one room, while Mingi and Jongho shared another down the hall.

They didn’t want to waste the little daylight left. After changing clothes, the four slipped out onto the street. The city was really different from Seoul; louder, more chaotic, but beautiful. They wandered for a while until they finally ended up at a burger joint. Ordering in English was a bit of a challenge, but with some pointing and their best effort, they managed. Soon enough, each of them sat down with a double burger, a side of fries, and a soda.

They were talking while eating, when Hongjoong’s phone buzzed against the table. He unlocked it without thinking, then froze when he saw the name.

Seonghwa.

did you guys land already?

His stomach twisted, but he forced his fingers to move.

Hongjoong:
 yeah, just got to the hotel
 we went out for food real quick

Seonghwa:
which hotel?

He hesitated for a second, then typed it out. And, almost immediately, another message blinked across the screen.

Seonghwa:
oh, that’s right around the corner from us
guess I’ll see you soon
I gotta run for now, but I’ll text later

Hongjoong stared at the screen, chewing slower, pretending like his pulse hadn’t just jumped. He slipped the phone face down on the table, trying not to smile.

The first evening in L.A. passed quicker than Hongjoong wanted. After dinner, they strolled lazily through the streets near their hotel, still feeling the jet lag. By the time they got back, Yunho collapsed face-first into the bed with his shoes still on. Hongjoong lay back on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He tried not to let his thoughts drift too much toward Seonghwa; he needed to rest for tomorrow, but it was useless. And then, just past ten, his screen lit up.

Seonghwa:
my friends are heading to a bar near here
do you guys want to come?

Hongjoong stared at it, biting his lip, then looked at Yunho. He was already sitting up, scrolling through his phone.

“Bar?” he repeated when Hongjoong told him. “Yeah, I’m down. Let’s ask the others.”

It didn’t take much convincing; Mingi and Jongho wouldn’t say no to a drink. Hongjoong sent a quick reply to confirm they were in. Seonghwa answered almost immediately with the name of the place, and when Hongjoong checked the map, it turned out to be only a short walk, just a couple of blocks away.

They took quick showers and started getting ready. Hongjoong spent longer than he meant to standing in front of his suitcase, pulling out options and second-guessing himself until Yunho teased him for taking so long. He ignored it, finally settling on a white t-shirt under a leather jacket, paired with black pants and black boots. A few sprays of his cologne and he was done. Yunho went for something sleeker: a dark coat layered over a black collared shirt and matching trousers.

By the time Mingi and Jongho came to knock on their door, it was obvious each of them had interpreted “going out for drinks” differently. Together, they looked less like a group and more like tourists on their way to four different occasions. They laughed it off and headed out.

The nightlife hit different; it was brighter, louder, and even more crowded than the day. They walked through the streets, stopping here and there to snap a few photos before reaching the bar. It was a simple spot, nothing fancy, just the kind of place where friends reunited on a weekend. Near the back, Hongjoong caught sight of Vesper tucked into a booth. Seonghwa was facing the door, and the second their eyes met, his lips curved faintly, making Hongjoong’s pulse flutter.

“Hey, you made it!” A boy with long, black hair waved them, so they walked in their direction.

It was a little awkward at first. Yunho ended up across from the black-haired boy, who wasted no time striking up a conversation with him. Mingi sat opposite a boy with blonde hair, who only nodded politely. Jongho in front of the one with green-tinted black hair. And, as if luck was playing some kind of joke, Hongjoong found himself right in front of Seonghwa.

Seonghwa took the lead, gesturing around the booth as he introduced his bandmates one by one: Wooyoung on guitar, San as the main vocalist, Yeosang on vocals and drums, and himself on bass. Then, the spotlight shifted to Hongjoong, who cleared his throat and did the same: Yunho on drums, Mingi on guitar, Jongho as the main vocalist, and himself as the bassist.

Just as they finished introducing themselves, the waitress appeared with menus now that the table was finally complete. There was a pause as they skimmed through the menus, just the low hum of the bar filling the space. The only voices Hongjoong could hear were Wooyoung and San discussing what to order.

Hongjoong tried to concentrate on the menu in English in front of him, but then he felt something; Seonghwa’s foot brushing lightly against his under the table. His head lifted instinctively, and when their eyes met, Seonghwa was smiling at him. It was a subtle smile enough to send heat crawling up Hongjoong’s neck. He forced himself to smile back before glancing down again, cursing silently at how ridiculous he felt for overthinking Seonghwa’s distance all this time when here he was, right in front of him.

The waitress returned to take their orders. Beers all around, a couple of cocktails, and a spread of appetizers they agreed to share. When the drinks came a few moments later, the first round went down easily. And, with that, the stiffness began to ease. It was Wooyoung who cracked the ice, leaning across toward Yunho.

“So, this is your first time here?”

“Yeah,” Yunho said with a big smile. “It feels huge. Really different from Seoul.”

“That’s L.A.,” San muttered, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Wooyoung nudged him dramatically. “Don’t act like a local, we’ve only been here twice.”

San rolled his eyes, but for a moment, there was a softness in the way they looked at each other before turning back to Yunho. Hongjoong caught the subtle exchange but didn’t linger, because Seonghwa leaned in slightly at that moment, his full attention on him.

“Long day?”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong admitted, his fingers circling his beer. “It feels like I haven’t stopped moving since we landed.”

Seonghwa’s smile curved, like he understood too well. “That’s L.A. for you.”

Hongjoong let out a quiet laugh, taking a sip of his beer. As the drinks settled in, the atmosphere loosened. Wooyoung had a way of pulling threads between people, weaving them closer without anyone realizing. They laughed at some things Wooyoung said or how he teased his bandmates, and even gained some glances from the other table, but they were having a great time. Soon, the two groups were effortlessly bantering, as if they’d known each other for years.

Hongjoong found himself laughing along, easing into it more quickly than he expected. He was still a little on edge at first, but the warmth and familiarity in their interactions made it feel easy, almost comforting. He glanced toward Seonghwa from time to time, catching him mid-laugh at something one of his bandmates said, and when Seonghwa’s gaze met his, Hongjoong offered a small, quick smile and pretended to turn back to his own conversation.

Seonghwa was leaning slightly back, dressed in a black shirt with the top two buttons casually undone and dark jeans. His silver hair caught the low light of the bar, and a hint of makeup made his sharp features stand out even more. He genuinely looked good, too good to ignore, and Hongjoong felt himself getting distracted.

“By the way,” Yeosang interjected, tilting his head, “how do you guys usually put your setlists together? We had some issues with that.”

Jongho spoke first, outlining a couple of songs they’d worked together on, describing how they layered the arrangements and added small touches during practice.

“You mostly write them, right?” Seonghwa asked, leaning in a little toward Hongjoong.

Hongjoong shook his head. “We all contribute, really. Everyone has ideas.”

Jongho scoffed softly. “When we try to contribute, our hyung already has half the song done.”

They all laughed at that, then Seonghwa tilted his head, silver hair catching the light again. 

“Have you written anything lately?”

Hongjoong shrugged. “Not really… I don't feel inspired right now.”

“Well,” Seonghwa replied, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he lifted his beer to take a sip. “I hope you find the inspiration you need here.”

Hongjoong’s eyes met Seonghwa’s for a fleeting moment before he turned away, taking a drink of his own beer. He didn’t know what to expect.

By the second round, Yunho and Wooyoung were practically fused at the hip, cracking jokes and talking with the others, even singing sometimes. At one point, Wooyoung dragged Yunho toward the bar to order shots, San and Mingi trailing behind them. Jongho was pulled into a conversation with Yeosang that Hongjoong couldn’t really hear.

Wooyoung and Yunho came back with a tray of shots, clattering them onto the table with exaggerated flair. “We’re celebrating,” Wooyoung declared, sliding glasses toward everyone. “New city, new festival, no sleep!”

The group cheered, lifting their glasses. The burn of liquor chased down the beer, and suddenly everything was warmer, looser, easier. As Hongjoong watched both bands laugh and talk over each other, he remembered something: he still had Yeosang’s clothes. He leaned in a little closer.

“Hey, about your clothes,” he called. “The ones I borrowed last time. I still have them. I’ll give them back once we’re in Seoul, I swear.”

Yeosang blinked at him, a little dazed, then let out a soft laugh. “Oh, you’re… ah, right. Don’t worry about it. I was planning on donating them anyway.” He waved a hand like it was nothing, already turning his head toward Jongho, who leaned in to say something.

That was when Hongjoong felt something; a light touch on his knee. At first, he froze, unsure if he’d imagined it, but the gentle pressure moved slightly upward along his leg. He stopped mid-thought, heart thudding, and slowly glanced to the side, past Yeosang.

Seonghwa had his eyes locked on him, lips wrapped around the neck of his beer bottle, with his cheeks faintly flushed. The heat in Hongjoong’s chest surged; his gaze inadvertently lingered on the curve of Seonghwa’s lips as he took a slow sip. He lingered, slowly drawing the liquid in, letting the tip of his tongue press against the edge as he swallowed, maintaining eye contact the entire time. When he finally pulled the bottle away, his lips were slightly glistening, parted just a fraction. Before Hongjoong could react, Seonghwa turned back to his bandmates beside him, laughing lightly, and Hongjoong felt a sudden, dizzy warmth spreading through him. He was pretty sure the alcohol had already hit him.

He tried to refocus on the conversation, but the image of Seonghwa’s flushed expression kept looping in his mind. Then Seonghwa leaned past him, brushing his shoulder almost casually as he murmured something about heading to the bathroom. Hongjoong felt a subtle thrill running through him, and he muttered quietly to Jongho, “I… I’ll be back too,”

Jongho barely glanced up, still engrossed in the conversation with Yeosang, nodding absentmindedly, completely unaware of the situation.

Hongjoong eased out of the booth, careful not to attract attention, and followed Seonghwa. They didn’t even head toward the bathrooms. Instead, they slipped down a quieter hallway near the back exit, the bar’s music and chatter muffled, leaving them in a private, dimly lit space.

Seonghwa pressed him lightly against the wall, and before Hongjoong could fully register it, Seonghwa’s lips were already on his. He tasted the faint sweetness of Seonghwa’s beer.

“I missed this,” Seonghwa murmured against his lips, teeth brushing briefly against Hongjoong’s bottom lip. “I’ve been so busy… really busy lately.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened; he felt a rush of frustration and longing all tangled together. He wanted to tell him he had overthought everything, that he had been obsessing over the fact that Seonghwa hadn’t messaged him, but he realized suddenly that Seonghwa had been just as busy. They had both been running on fumes, their own worlds pulling them in different directions. And yet, here they were, the tension of the past weeks dissolving in the press of lips.

He let himself sink into it, gripping Seonghwa’s arms, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, sloppy in the best way. Their bodies pressed together. Hongjoong could feel Seonghwa’s chest against his, the subtle shift of weight as their hips aligned. Every brush of a hand, every tilt of the head drove the desire higher, the urgency of the moment making it impossible to think clearly.

Seonghwa’s fingers tangled in Hongjoong’s hair, tugging lightly, and Hongjoong gasped against him, biting back a moan. The taste of alcohol mixed with the faint scent of the city clinging to Seonghwa’s skin was dizzying, intoxicating. He could feel the line of Seonghwa’s jaw pressing against his, hear his ragged breath, feel the pulse racing in the tight space between them.

The world outside the doorway faded completely. All the neon signs, all the music, all the laughter of their friends inside, it was gone. There was only the raw, messy heat between them, the way Seonghwa’s tongue traced the corner of his mouth, the way their bodies seemed to fit together.

They shifted slightly, hips brushing, thighs pressing together, both a little clumsy from the combination of beer and adrenaline. Hongjoong let his hands roam, mapping the familiar terrain of Seonghwa’s back, memorizing the muscle in his shoulders, the curve of his spine. Seonghwa’s hands moved lower, under the hem of Hongjoong’s shirt, tracing along his ribs, sending shocks through his system.

Every second stretched. Neither of them spoke; it was replaced by the gasps and soft moans that broke through between kisses. It was messy, urgent, and the longer they went, the more it demanded of them.

After what felt like both an eternity and a moment, Hongjoong pulled back slightly, chest heaving, forehead resting against Seonghwa’s. The world started to seep back. He could hear Wooyoung’s laugh in the distance.

“We should go back…” Hongjoong murmured, brushing lips against Seonghwa’s jaw. “Our friends are inside.”

Seonghwa hesitated for a moment, then replied softly. “Yeah… Yeah, you’re right.” He straightened, running a hand through his hair. They stayed like that for a moment, catching their breath and fixing their clothes.

When they stepped back into the bar, immediately the shift in energy was obvious. Wooyoung’s head snapped up from the table, eyes narrowing at the corner they’d disappeared to. He leaned back in his seat, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Took you two long enough. What, the line in the bathroom was that fun?”

The table erupted with laughter. Hongjoong and Seonghwa exchanged a glance, barely suppressing smiles, their hands brushing when they reached the table. 

They settled back, ordering another round for the table. Both bands continued laughing, stories bouncing back and forth. The initial awkwardness was gone, and the connection was already established. Wooyoung kept nudging Yunho with exaggerated commentary on their earlier conversation, drawing everyone into small bursts of laughter.

The night stretched on, but even as other groups started to filter out, the energy between the two bands stayed high. San yawned openly, trying to hide it behind his hand, but Wooyoung wasn’t having it.

“C’mon, we’re not done yet!” he teased, dragging him toward the jukebox. The rest groaned but followed in half-hearted protest, laughter spilling as they argued about which track to play.

Hongjoong caught Seonghwa’s gaze again, and this time there was no hiding it. The city lights glinted faintly in his big eyes, the way he watched him making it impossible to think of anything else. Hongjoong’s heart thumped with a familiar ache, a longing that didn’t even bother pretending to be casual.

“I’m calling it,” Seonghwa murmured when Wooyoung and Yunho finally argued themselves into submission over the playlist. “I’m heading back. You coming?” His voice was low, meant only for Hongjoong.

Hongjoong swallowed. The truth was, despite having a great time and being happy from seeing his friends like this, he wanted nothing more than to go with him. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m going back too.”

The tease and gentle ridicule from the others came immediately. Jongho’s grin was big as he said. “Aw, the lovebirds are leaving the party early?”

Hongjoong shot Jongho a look that made him chuckle. The rest waved them off, shouting half-hearted warnings to behave and to take care.

The streets outside were quiet, and the hum of the city was softer now. Streetlights lined the sidewalks, casting long amber reflections across the wet pavement. The air smelled faintly of food from a corner diner. They walked close together, Hongjoong matching his pace with Seonghwa’s, their hands brushing occasionally until finally, one lingered on the small of his back.

“Do you want to come back to my hotel?” Seonghwa asked after a pause, his voice low. Hongjoong glanced at him for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah… I do.”

A satisfied curve tugged at Seonghwa’s lips. “This way,” he murmured, guiding him with a hand at his back as they crossed the street.

Inside the lobby, Hongjoong couldn’t help but notice how luxurious it was, so far from the modest hotel his band was staying in. Was Vesper really that popular?  He thought, but it was quickly drowned out by the heat coiling in his chest as Seonghwa keyed the elevator, pressing the button for his floor. Hongjoong’s hand lingered close to his, almost daring to close the distance, and when their skin brushed, the brief, electric contact sent a shiver up his spine.

They rode up in silence. If anyone got into the elevator at that moment, they would feel the tension and anticipation threading between them. As the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, they stepped out into the quiet corridor of Vesper’s floor. Seonghwa led the way to his door, unlocking it with a quiet click. He paused, letting Hongjoong step inside first, then closed the door gently behind them. The room smelled faintly of his cologne, and the dim lighting made everything feel intimate.

Hongjoong leaned back slightly, letting the door click shut fully, and finally, Seonghwa turned to him. They stood there a moment, just looking at each other, with their breaths slow and hearts racing, before Seonghwa stepped closer, tilting his head, letting his lips brush against Hongjoong’s. It was soft, teasing, and Hongjoong’s hands found his waist, pulling him in closer, desperate and careful all at once.

The kiss deepened almost without thought, Seonghwa’s mouth hot and insistent against Hongjoong’s, his fingers tangling in the shorter man’s hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, pleased sound from him. Hongjoong could taste the lingering sweetness of the cocktails they’d had earlier and the faint bite of alcohol mingling with the heat of Seonghwa’s tongue sliding against his own.

He didn’t resist. He couldn’t resist.

Not when Seonghwa pressed into him like this, all desperate hunger and barely restrained need, his body warm and solid against Hongjoong’s. Not when his hands were now gripping Hongjoong’s hips like he was afraid he’d slip away.

Hongjoong broke the kiss just enough to murmur against his lips, “Do you share the room with anyone?”

Seonghwa let out a shaky breath. “Yeosang,” he admitted, but then, as if remembering, added, “but he’s staying with San and Wooyoung tonight.”

Hongjoong swallowed, trying, and failing, not to let that information coil tight in his stomach. He should think. He should pull back, consider what this meant, what they were doing…

But then Seonghwa kissed him again, and all rational thought dissolved into static.

Hongjoong guided them backward, hands firm on Seonghwa’s waist, until the back of his knees hit the edge of one of the beds. He pulled away just enough to ask, “Which one’s yours?”

Seonghwa nodded toward the one closest to the window, and Hongjoong sat down on the edge, looking up at him.

God, he was beautiful like this.

Silver hair tousled from Hongjoong’s fingers, lips swollen from kissing, cheeks flushed with want. The dim light caught the sharp lines of his face, the curve of his throat as he swallowed, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

Seonghwa didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, straddling Hongjoong’s thighs, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of him as he settled into his lap. Hongjoong’s hands instinctively gripped his hips, fingers digging in just to feel him.

For a moment, they just looked at each other.

Seonghwa’s gaze was dark, pupils blown wide, and Hongjoong could see the same hunger reflected back at him that had been simmering between them for weeks. Then, slowly, Seonghwa reached up, brushing Hongjoong’s hair back from his forehead, his fingers lingering against his temple before sliding into the strands. Hongjoong exhaled, shuddering at the touch.

Then Seonghwa leaned in, capturing his mouth again, and this time, it was fiercer.

Hongjoong kissed him back just as fiercely, hands sliding up his sides, feeling the shift of muscle beneath his shirt. Seonghwa rocked against him with a slow, deliberate grind of his hips, and Hongjoong groaned into his mouth, fingers tightening on his waist.

The friction was maddening. Seonghwa moved against him again, dragging himself over Hongjoong’s thighs. Hongjoong could feel him hardening through his jeans, could feel the way Seonghwa’s breath hitched when their bodies pressed together just right. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, swallowing every soft sound Seonghwa made, every gasp when their hips met.

Seonghwa’s hands were everywhere; tangled in Hongjoong’s hair, gripping his shoulders, sliding down his chest like he wanted to memorize the shape of him. His movements grew less controlled, more desperate, his hips rocking faster now, chasing the friction, the pleasure coiling tight in his stomach.

Hongjoong let him take what he needed, hands roaming over Seonghwa’s back, down to the curve of his ass, pulling him closer, urging him on. He could feel his own arousal under his pants, every drag of Seonghwa’s body against his sending sparks through his veins.

They were both breathing hard now, their kisses turning messy, open-mouthed and hungry. Seonghwa’s forehead dropped against Hongjoong’s shoulder, his hips still moving in slow, sinuous rolls, his breath hot against Hongjoong’s neck.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice wrecked.

Hongjoong could only agree.

He slid a hand up Seonghwa’s spine, fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make him lift his head. Their eyes met again; Seonghwa’s lips were parted, his gaze hazy with want, and then Hongjoong pulled him back in, kissing him deeply, swallowing the soft, desperate sounds he made.

Hongjoong couldn’t stop this. Not when every movement sent heat pooling low in his stomach, not when Seonghwa felt so good above him, around him, against him. Not when the weeks of tension had finally boiled over into this, into Seonghwa’s hands on him, his body moving with his, his breath mingling with Hongjoong’s in the space between kisses. Suddenly, Seonghwa put a hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder, indicating him to pause. He got up and went to his suitcase. 

Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on him, tracing the lines of his body as he moved; the lean muscles of his back, the curve of his waist, the way his black jeans clung to his thighs. And then, despite himself, Hongjoong’s eyes dropped lower.

Fuck.

Seonghwa’s arousal was unmistakable, the hard outline of him pressing against the fabric, and Hongjoong’s breath caught. A sharp, unwelcome thought sliced through the haze of desire: Had he planned this? Had he been expecting someone else?

He gritted his teeth, forcing the thought away. It didn’t matter. They were here now, and whatever this was, whatever they were doing, it was between them. Nothing else existed.

When Seonghwa turned back, Hongjoong’s pulse stuttered. In his hands were a bottle of lube and a box of condoms, his own body responding instantly.

Seonghwa stopped in front of him and, without a word, he began to undress.

Hongjoong watched, transfixed, as Seonghwa’s fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, revealing smooth skin inch by inch. He did it slowly, as if he knew exactly how much it was affecting Hongjoong. And maybe he did. Maybe he wanted Hongjoong to feel this; the ache, the need, the way his own hands trembled slightly as he started to undress as well.

They didn’t speak. The only sounds were their breathing, the rustle of fabric, and the quiet click of their belts being undone. Their eyes stayed locked, the tension between them thickening with every second, with every piece of clothing that fell away.

When they were both bare, Hongjoong reached for him, hands settling on Seonghwa’s waist. His skin was warm, almost feverish under Hongjoong’s touch. He leaned in, pressing kisses along Seonghwa’s stomach, chest, collarbone, up the column of his throat, feeling the way Seonghwa’s breath hitched when Hongjoong’s teeth grazed his pulse point.

Seonghwa tilted his head back, giving him more space, his fingers tangling in Hongjoong’s blonde hair. Hongjoong took his time, savoring the taste of him before finally capturing his lips again in a deep, lingering kiss.

Then, with a gentle push, Seonghwa guided Hongjoong back onto the bed, following him down. He stretched out beside him, reaching for the lube, and Hongjoong’s throat went dry as Seonghwa slicked his fingers, warming it between them.

The first touch was tentative. Seonghwa’s breath shuddered as he pressed a single finger inside himself. Hongjoong watched, mesmerized, as Seonghwa’s body tensed, then relaxed, his lips parting on a quiet gasp. He couldn’t look away.

The sight of Seonghwa like this, spread out beneath him, lost in sensation, his skin flushed, his cock hard against his stomach, was almost too much. Hongjoong grabbed the lube, coating his own fingers, and when he touched Seonghwa, sliding a finger alongside his, Seonghwa arched off the bed with a sharp inhale.

“Hongjoong—” His name was a plea, a prayer, torn from Seonghwa’s lips.

Hongjoong kissed him again, swallowing the sounds he made as their fingers moved together, stretching him. He mapped every reaction; the way Seonghwa’s thighs trembled, the way his nails dug into Hongjoong’s shoulders, the way his breath came faster, shallower. When Seonghwa finally pulled away, his voice was wrecked. “I’m ready.”

Hongjoong nodded, reaching for the condom. His hands weren’t entirely steady as he rolled it on and slicked himself with more lube, but Seonghwa’s gaze was still fixed on him.

Hongjoong positioned himself between Seonghwa’s thighs, his pulse roaring in his ears. He gripped the base of his cock, guiding himself to Seonghwa’s entrance, and the first press was electric; Seonghwa’s body yielded to him, pulling him in with a slow, intoxicating resistance. Seonghwa’s breath stuttered, his fingers digging into Hongjoong’s biceps as he adjusted, his lashes fluttering shut for a brief moment before his eyes locked onto Hongjoong’s again.

“You feel so good,” Seonghwa breathed.

Hongjoong didn’t rush. He pushed in gradually, savoring every inch, every tiny shift of Seonghwa’s body beneath him. The way Seonghwa’s lips parted, the way his thighs tensed, the way his fingers scrambled for purchase against Hongjoong’s skin. He drank it all in, committing every reaction to memory.

When he was fully sheathed, Hongjoong stilled, letting them both adjust. He leaned down, capturing Seonghwa’s lips in another deep kiss, swallowing the soft whimper that escaped him. Then, with a slow roll of his hips, Hongjoong started to move.

Seonghwa’s nails raked down his back, his breath coming in uneven gasps against Hongjoong’s mouth. Every thrust was deliberate, measured, dragging out the pleasure until Seonghwa was writhing beneath him, his legs hooking around Hongjoong’s waist to pull him deeper.

Hongjoong wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, but he knew this time it was different. Something had shifted between them, and he confirmed it when he looked down at Seonghwa and met his eyes. His brows were furrowed, tears clinging at the corners, but there was something new in his gaze. Hongjoong’s thoughts scattered when he felt Seonghwa’s hand brush softly against his cheek.

“Faster,” he demanded.

Hongjoong obeyed, snapping his hips forward, and Seonghwa arched off the bed with a sharp cry, one that Hongjoong silenced with another kiss, swallowing the sound as if he could devour it.

The pace built, the slap of skin against skin filling the room, mingling with their harsh breaths and muffled moans. Seonghwa’s hands were everywhere, as if he couldn’t decide where to hold on. Suddenly, a broken gasp tore from Seonghwa’s throat, making his entire body tense. Hongjoong knew exactly what had just happened.

He did it again, angling his hips just right, and Seonghwa’s reaction was instantaneous: his back arching off the bed, his thighs clamping around Hongjoong’s waist, a high, desperate noise escaping him before he slapped a hand over his own mouth.

Hongjoong grinned, predatory, and did it again.

Seonghwa’s eyes screwed shut, his free hand fisting the sheets as pleasure wracked through him. Hongjoong could feel him tightening around him, could see the way his cock twitched against his stomach, leaking precum.

“I, ah, I’m close,” Seonghwa choked out behind his hand.

Hongjoong reached between them, wrapping his fingers around Seonghwa’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Seonghwa’s hips jerked, his breath coming in short, frantic pants, and then he broke. Seonghwa came with a muffled cry, his release spilling over Hongjoong’s fingers, his body clamping down around him in waves. The sight alone was enough to push Hongjoong over the edge; he buried himself deep, his own orgasm crashing through him with a groan, his forehead dropping against Seonghwa’s shoulder as he rode it out.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, their breathing the only sound in the room. Then Hongjoong pulled out slowly, tying off the condom before tossing it aside.

Seonghwa was still sprawled beneath him, boneless, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes were half-lidded, and when Hongjoong leaned down to kiss him again, Seonghwa hummed into it, content.

Hongjoong went to the bathroom and brought back a towel to clean Seonghwa, then himself. Once they were both somewhat freshened up, Seonghwa tugged at Hongjoong’s wrist, pulling him close.

"Lie down with me," he murmured.

Hongjoong didn’t resist, settling beside him, their legs tangling together as they melted into another slow, deep kiss. The alcohol was making everything softer, slower, more intimate.

"Stay with me tonight," Seonghwa whispered against his lips, fingers tracing idle patterns along Hongjoong’s spine. "If you don’t have other plans."

Hongjoong didn't have the energy to think about it. He just smiled, nuzzling into the curve of Seonghwa’s neck. "Yeah, I’ll stay."

The room went quiet, limbs still lazily entwined. The alcohol helped, easing them both into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.

The alarm went off too soon. Hongjoong groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow, clinging to the last remnants of sleep. Just as he was about to drift off again, a hand brushed gently across his forehead, tucking some strands of hair away.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, still heavy with sleep, and the first thing he saw was Seonghwa watching him. His silver hair was messy, his chest bare, and Hongjoong noticed for the first time a tiny mole in his eyebrow. He lost count of how many times he thought Seonghwa was beautiful.

“Good morning,” Seonghwa’s morning voice made Hongjoong’s chest tighten. “Do you want to shower first?”

Hongjoong shook his head faintly. “I can shower in my room. I’m already bothering Yeosang enough.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Seonghwa laughed softly.

“Then you go first,” Hongjoong replied.

But Seonghwa didn’t move. He had his gaze fixed on Hongjoong in a way that made his skin prickle.

“What?” Hongjoong laughed nervously, his voice coming out a little breathless.

Seonghwa’s smile widened. “I never noticed how long your eyelashes are. They’re ridiculously pretty.” His tone dropped lower as he leaned in. “Almost unfair, actually.”

Hongjoong froze, heat blooming across his cheeks. No one had ever told him that before. His right eye fluttered shut instinctively when Seonghwa’s finger hovered close, and he felt the lightest brush before that same hand trailed down to his cheek.

“You’re blushing,” Seonghwa teased gently, the smirk tugging at his lips only making it worse.

Hongjoong turned his face away with a laugh, hiding behind the pillow. “Stop saying nonsense. Go shower, we need to get ready for the festival.”

Seonghwa chuckled, clearly satisfied, and finally got up, disappearing into the bathroom, giving Hongjoong a moment to press his burning face into the sheets.

When it was his turn, Seonghwa told him to use his shampoo and soap. He showered quickly, then pulled back on the same clothes as yesterday. They chatted idly as they got ready, but before long, Hongjoong decided to leave, not wanting to be perceived by his bandmates. He doubted they’d be up at seven a.m. after last night’s drinks anyway.

At the door, Seonghwa leaned in slightly. “I’ll see you at the festival.”

Hongjoong nodded, fighting the urge to kiss him, “Yeah, see you there.”

Chapter Text

Hongjoong slipped quietly out of Seonghwa’s room, still feeling a bit sleepy despite the shower. It was early, after all. The hotel hallway was hushed, and as he stepped outside, he took in the grand entrance one last time, appreciating how polished and extravagant everything looked. Again, he wondered how famous Vesper was here.

When he returned to his own hotel, he passed the lobby café and hesitated for a moment before deciding to enter. He ordered four americanos, thinking about his bandmates and how they’d probably need the caffeine even more than he did. The barista slid the cups across the counter, and he balanced them carefully on a tray as he stepped into the elevator.

When he unlocked his door, the sight waiting inside made him let out a sigh. All three of them, Jongho, Mingi, and Yunho, were piled on his bed. There were some empty beer bottles on the tiny table in the room, and by the depth of their sleep, it was obvious they’d stumbled in sometime in the early morning, and the younger two were too tired to make it to their own room.

Hongjoong set the coffees and his things down with care, shaking his head. He rolled his suitcase into the corner and pulled out fresh clothes. The sound of zippers and fabric shifting was enough to stir Yunho, who cracked one eye open. His hair was a mess, and he had a thin trail of drool in the corner of his mouth.

“You just got back?” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong answered simply.

“What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty,” Hongjoong replied, tugging on a more comfortable shirt.

Yunho groaned, but against all odds, he pushed himself upright and stumbled into the bathroom. The shower came alive a moment later.

Hongjoong turned to the bed, planting his hands on his hips. “Mingi, Jongho. Wake up. We need to get ready for the festival.”

Mingi made a noise in protest and buried his face deeper into the blanket, while Jongho just shifted slightly. Hongjoong had to tug at the covers and raise his voice at them, threatening to leave without them.

“Come on,” he added, nodding toward the cups on the table. “I brought you coffee.”

That did the trick. Slowly, the two of them dragged themselves up, reaching for the drinks. They muttered something like thanks before stumbling off to their own room to prepare themselves.

Hongjoong sank into a chair with his own cup, holding it between both hands, already piecing together a mental checklist of how to keep everyone on schedule.

By nine a.m., Lost Signal’s van rolled into the festival grounds in Los Angeles. The streets were already teeming with vans, crates, and stagehands. From the window, Hongjoong could see massive stages, trucks unloading drums and amps, and crew members. Even from outside the gates, they could hear faintly how other bands were practicing.

“Wow… this is big,” Mingi muttered, leaning forward to press his forehead against the glass.

Yunho gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah. It’s… a lot.”

Hongjoong tried to talk in a calm tone, even though he probably was the most nervous one. “We’ve got this. Just focus on our set.”

Their manager ran through instructions once they’d parked, he told them about passes, stage times, where their green room was, and who to talk to if anything went wrong. Hongjoong caught most of it without translation, but it was still comforting to have someone discussing details with security and the tech crews.

As they passed through the festival gates, the scale of it hit him fully. They watched the towering stages, barricades, and power cables crisscrossing the ground. People with clipboards walking through the crowds with urgency, and vendors already setting up tents lined with merch. It was as if reality hit him at that moment.

“Okay… so we’re really doing this,” Hongjoong muttered under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else. His chest felt tight, in the same way he remembered from the very first time they’d played together.

They were led into a backstage tent tucked near one of the bigger stages. It just had folding chairs, a couple of tables, and a rack of bottled water. A few other bands were already there, talking and checking their instruments.  

“Alright, green room rules,” their manager said in a firm voice. “You stay here unless it’s soundcheck or stage time, the staff will escort you. Don’t wander before your stage; after it, you can leave.”

Hongjoong nodded, though his fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting. He caught a few festival staff glancing his way, and he started to feel self-conscious. His outfit suddenly felt too much. He tugged at his sleeve. He’d spent way too long that morning deciding, and landed on black pants, a fitted black shirt, and a half-red skirt layered on top. He liked it and thought it looked good. But now, under their gazes, maybe it was too much.

“Do you think the crowd will like us?” Mingi asked in a low voice, leaning toward Hongjoong.

“I… don’t know,” Hongjoong admitted, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s a new audience.”

Jongho, who was already sitting in one of the chairs holding his phone, looked up briefly. “It doesn’t matter. We play our music. If they like it, great. If not, at least we played.”

Yunho stretched, looking around nervously. “I just hope the soundcheck goes well.”

As they were talking, Hongjoong pulled out the Star Wars notebook. He didn’t want to admit that it helped ease his nerves, but he found comfort in having it with him. He began scribbling a few things. And, after a while, Seonghwa and the rest of Vesper appeared nearby, looking less nervous than they were. Yunho waved, and they came over. They were all dressed all in black, as always, and Hongjoong wondered how they weren’t burning alive under the leather.

“Are you ready?” Seonghwa asked, leaning casually against a table.

Hongjoong nodded, with his fingers tightening around the notebook. “I think so.”

“You’ll be fine,” Seonghwa said, then glanced down at the notebook. “Wait, that’s the notebook I gave you! What are you writing?”

“Just stuff,” Hongjoong replied. “Random things, it helps me relax.”

Seonghwa tilted his head, as if that made perfect sense, and offered a small smile. “Write something for me too,” he suggested lightly, holding out his arm, making Hongjoong raise an eyebrow.

“What if I draw a penis?” he joked.

Seonghwa shrugged and grinned. “I guess I’ll just have to play with a penis on my arm.”

They laughed together, joking with Seonghwa eased some of the tension in Hongjoong’s chest. He thought about what to write, but his thoughts kept drifting to last night, and he had an idea. He tried writing first with his pen, but they quickly realized it wouldn’t work on skin. Seonghwa looked around and found a marker that was probably meant for announcements. Hongjoong started with a single, innocuous word: “fuck.” Seonghwa relaxed for a moment, feeling relieved he hadn’t gone too far. But then, on impulse, Hongjoong added -ed. Fucked.

Hongjoong burst into laughter while Seonghwa tried to rub it off, but the ink wouldn’t budge.

After a few more casual exchanges between both bands, Lost Signal was called for soundcheck. Vesper wished them luck, and just before Hongjoong got up, Seonghwa grabbed his arm.

“You’ll do great,” he murmured. “I’ll be cheering for you.”

Hongjoong returned a genuine smile and then walked with his bandmates.

There was chaos backstage. There were technicians running around adjusting amps, checking drum kits, and moving microphones while the crew radios crackled intermittently. The chaos didn’t help at all with the band’s anxiety.

“Okay, let’s do our best,” he muttered to himself while his fingers brushed over the bass strings. Yunho nodded beside him. “We’ve rehearsed this a thousand times. It’s just… bigger.”

“Got it, captain,” the others said in unison, making them all laugh. It helped to ease the tension a bit.

As they stepped onto the stage for soundcheck, the vastness of the festival grounds stretched before them. The crowd wasn’t fully there yet; there were just a scattering of early attendees and crew, but the enormity of the space compared to the venues they played in Korea made everything feel monumental.

Hongjoong adjusted his strap and nodded to the others. “Let’s go.”

The first few notes were tentative, a little jittery. And, of course, they made some mistakes. Yunho’s drumming faltered slightly on the third measure, Mingi’s fingers slipped two times, and Jongho’s voice wavered just enough to twist Hongjoong’s stomach. But as they settled into the rhythm, the familiar patterns clicked into place. Each member leaned on the others for balance, which was a strength they always had. The soundcheck ended more quickly than they thought, the crew nodded in approval, and instantly they collapsed on the ground, wiping their sweat.

“Not bad for a first run,” Mingi whispered, and then they saw their manager walking towards them.

“All set,” he said. “You have twenty minutes on the main stage later. Relax, stick to the setlist, and most importantly, enjoy it,” he finished with a smile.

Twenty minutes. It was short, yes, but enough for them. Enough to show what Lost Signal could do. They bowed to their manager, thanked him, and decided to grab some food; the nerves had left them really hungry.

By mid-afternoon, the festival was already starting. The crowd had grown exponentially. Lost Signal’s crew hustled them toward the stage entrance when it was their turn.

Hongjoong’s fingers tightened around his bass strap. “Twenty minutes…” he muttered under his breath. The others looked at him and grabbed his shoulder, reassuring him. They all had sacrificed many things for this moment.

When their cue hit, they stepped onto the stage to the roar of anticipation. For a moment, the nerves threatened to swallow them whole. They had prepared a full speech, but they couldn’t think of anything at that moment. Only Mingi broke the silence, shouting, “Are you ready?” and his deep voice caused several girls in the front to scream.

The first notes of Sugar, We’re Goin Down hit, and the crowd’s energy surged back at them. People raised their hands, shouted along with the intro, and the tension began to melt. They weren’t sure if people would actually enjoy a new band, but they seemed to like them.

“Here we go,” Yunho said, hitting the first drumbeat. While they were good at what they were doing, they all knew that the power of their songs was Jongho and his voice. That’s why Hongjoong was glad he had joined Yunho and him. His voice was really strong, and it carried the weight of the songs, shocking and captivating anyone who listened.

The twenty minutes passed in a blur. They stuck to the setlist, and though it was short, the audience’s energy fed them, leaving them with a feeling of triumph. They thanked the crowd, and stepped off-stage while catching their breaths. Hongjoong could hear the cheers of the audience, and he couldn’t help a small, incredulous smile.

“They liked it,” Mingi said with disbelief in his voice. “They really liked it.”

They were all too stunned to respond immediately; it didn’t feel real. Hongjoong felt tears threatening to well up, so he looked around to ground himself, trying not to let them fall.

“How aren’t they sweating?” Yunho asked, drawing everyone’s attention to where he was staring.

Hongjoong followed his gaze and caught a glimpse of Vesper stepping onto the stage. They had an entirely different aura from Lost Signal. Their usual black outfits were even more elaborate now, layered with capes, and their makeup was heavy. Hongjoong could catch a glimpse of Wooyoung, who had full eyeliner and black eye shadow. Somehow, they didn’t look the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Hongjoong signaled his bandmates to move to the side, around a food truck, to watch. More people were arriving, which made sense since opening acts usually drew smaller crowds, but there were still enough fans.

Vesper began setting up, and Hongjoong noticed that Seonghwa hadn’t erased the word Fucked he had written on his arm. In fact, he might have even raised his sleeve to make it more visible. Honestly… it looked good, even matching his outfit. They didn’t bother with introductions. San yelled something in English that they couldn’t really catch and started.

The crowd erupted immediately, some singing along, some screaming the lyrics. Hongjoong was surprised by how popular they already were outside of Korea. He leaned against the side, absorbing the performance. They were undeniably skilled performers; they didn’t look nervous like Lost Signal. And San’s voice… Hongjoong’s jaw dropped. From what he remembered, San hadn’t spoken much last night, probably because he was too drunk, but on stage, his voice was raw, powerful.

The chorus repeated the lines I’m not okay, and Hongjoong guessed that must be the song title. They were enjoying the performance when something unexpected happened. After the second chorus, Wooyoung launched into a guitar solo that was genuinely impressive. But midway through, San leaned in and, without warning, lifted his face and kissed him.

Immediately, some fangirls screamed, camera flashes went off, and gasps rippled through the crowd. San just went back to singing as if nothing had happened, and Wooyoung didn’t even look fazed; he just kept playing while smiling.

Hongjoong froze, unable to process what he’d just seen. Then someone said:

“We should do that.”

He and Jongho turned toward the familiar voice, stunned, and found Mingi grinning at Yunho. Yunho shook his head emphatically, whispering, “No. Absolutely not.” And they couldn’t help but burst into laughter, even earning a few side-eyes from nearby people.

Hongjoong glanced back at the stage, trying to hold his laugh. Vesper continued through four more songs. Each one of them was really good, and Hongjoong made a mental note to check out their discography when they returned to Korea. One song in particular caught his attention, Disenchanted. It was the one he helped Seonghwa with, and now he could hear all his suggestions incorporated perfectly. He remembered asking if Seonghwa usually wrote or produced for the band; he didn’t, but he loved contributing, and this song was personal to him. And now, watching Seonghwa play the bass with such passion, singing the chorus alongside San with so much feeling, Hongjoong couldn’t help wondering what had inspired such a heartbreakingly beautiful track.

When Vesper’s set ended, Lost Signal regrouped at the side-stage area. They were exhausted, but something about watching Vesper had been inspiring; different, yes, but it reminded Hongjoong of why he loved music.

“They’re intense,” Mingi admitted. “Totally different from when we saw them in Korea.”

Jongho nodded. “Yeah, definitely something else.”

The afternoon passed in a blur. They watched a few more acts, Hongjoong always loved to see different bands, checked in with festival staff, and coordinated with their manager. The schedule left some downtime, which they used to review notes and prepare for the next day.

By evening, Lost Signal gathered near a lounge tent where multiple bands’ crews hung out. Most were American, and the conversations were in English, so Hongjoong didn’t pay much attention to. His focus was on a group of four boys at the back, changing to more casual clothes, but still black. Lost Signal moved toward them, and Vesper greeted them immediately, exchanging congratulations. It was a relief to have another band speaking their language. Seonghwa walked alongside Hongjoong immediately.

“You guys killed it,” he said. Hongjoong couldn’t help noticing how good he looked with his stage makeup. “Not bad for a first festival.”

“Thanks,” Hongjoong replied, avoiding the intense eye contact Seonghwa was making with him. “You guys… wow. That was truly incredible.”

Seonghwa smirked faintly. “Thanks. I couldn’t erase your little word on my arm.” He held up his sleeve, making Hongjoong laugh.

“But it made you look even hotter on stage.”

“Hotter?” Seonghwa asked, tilting his head.

Fucking hell.

Seonghwa laughed softly, and Hongjoong caught the faint blush on his cheeks. He definitely liked compliments.

“You looked really hot on stage, too. I forgot to say it earlier, but I love your outfit. Where did you even find a skirt like that?” Seonghwa asked. The question caught Hongjoong off guard. He was still a little self-conscious about it.

“I made it,” he admitted. “I like altering my clothes.”

That answer lit up Seonghwa’s face, and it sparked another easy conversation between them. Later, both bands watched the remaining acts from the side while chatting. Hongjoong occasionally jotted mental notes, tweaking ideas for tomorrow. Once the festival ended, and with no further responsibilities, they said their goodbyes to Vesper and returned to the hotel. Both bands looked exhausted, which made sense since they had gone out drinking the night before.

The first day had left them drained, more than twenty minutes on stage should have. Back at the hotel, Hongjoong and Yunho flopped onto their respective beds while Mingi and Jongho retreated to their room. Hongjoong stared at the ceiling, processing the day. Yunho had probably fallen asleep instantly. Before sleeping, Hongjoong and Seonghwa texted for a bit, and then he took a long, hot shower, letting the warm water wash away the sweat and tension of the day. He slid under the cool sheets afterward, falling asleep almost immediately.

The second day came earlier than anyone really wanted. Sunlight filtered through the hotel blinds, bothering them. Hongjoong rolled over, stretched, and groaned softly. Their morning routine was simple: shower, dress, grab breakfast, check instruments, and then head back to the festival grounds.

Before the festival officially began, Vesper came to find them. Everyone was becoming really close friends, faster than Hongjoong had expected. After talking for a while, Seonghwa and Hongjoong exchanged a glance across the room and spoke almost in unison.

“Let’s grab a snack.”

Everyone looked at them, waiting. Hongjoong added, “Maybe some coffee for everyone before we start?”

Seonghwa nodded, smiling. “Good idea. I’ll help you carry them.”

Hongjoong realized how obvious they probably seemed to everyone. And it wasn’t exactly a secret what was happening between them, either. But the other six didn’t care, or maybe they got used to it now, and simply nodded, continuing their conversation.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa walked to the café in silence, which felt surprisingly calm for a festival morning. After Hongjoong ordered eight iced americanos, Seonghwa leaned against the counter, with his eyes flicking toward him.

“I liked what you wrote on my arm yesterday,” he said.

“Weren’t you complaining that you couldn’t rub it off?” Hongjoong teased, making Seonghwa laugh.

“Yeah, but after I saw the photos from our set, I realized it looked cool as fuck,” Seonghwa said. “Could you write something again?”

Hongjoong blinked. He hadn’t expected that, but he liked their little game. A grin spread across his face. “Sure, I just need something to write with...”

He looked around and spotted a red lipstick on the empty table next to them. It was completely new. He raised an eyebrow at Seonghwa, who laughed and nodded. They made sure it was untouched, and Hongjoong paused to think before deciding on the first word that came to his mind. Easy. With Seonghwa, everything felt easy.

Seonghwa raised a brow, laughing softly. “Easy… why?”

“It was the first word that popped into my head,” Hongjoong admitted. “Looks good, right?”

Seonghwa shook his head, smirking, and tapped the word with a finger as if approving. “Perfect. I’ll be even hotter today with the lipstick.”

Hongjoong nudged him, and they both laughed. When their order was ready, they also grabbed a few snacks for their friends and carried them back, chatting along the way.

Once breakfast was finished and they were back at the stage area, Lost Signal set up their equipment. This time, the crew allowed them a slightly longer warm-up. They felt more relaxed this time.

Their setlist had shifted slightly. They decided to include one of their demo track, which was almost finished, but they never performed it live. It was risky, yes, but they wanted to show something new.

When they hit the stage, the audience’s energy was immediately different from the previous day. People were already moving toward the barriers, waving their hands, even shouting some of the lyrics. Hongjoong felt a thrill shoot through him. They really did like Lost Signal?

It was clear they were more confident today. They delivered their speech, introducing themselves and hyping the audience. Hongjoong felt a rush while energizing the crowd, and even Yunho got them clapping along during Dance, Dance. It was as if they were a completely different band from yesterday.

The twenty-minute set felt longer this time. They felt the adrenaline through them, making everything feel ten times better. The applause was louder this time, and the fatigue they felt seemed irrelevant. They thanked the audience, and while Hongjoong let the others speak for a moment, he felt the tears prick at the corners of his eyes again. He didn’t know why he was so sensitive during these performances, but this… this was his dream. Their dream.

After stepping down, they grabbed a few sips of water. They couldn’t stop talking about how incredible the set had been. Hongjoong watched his bandmates laugh while teasing him gently for almost crying, but he just rolled his eyes. He couldn’t be mad when even the demo track had gone over well. He felt pride in it, since he had spent so long working on it. Hongjoong knew Lost Signal had potential, and this festival was proving it. They could go even further.

Vesper went on afterward. Hongjoong noted that the transition from Lost Signal to Vesper might have been jarring. Even though both were rock bands, their styles were completely different, yet the crowd seemed to enjoy it.

They started as they had yesterday, with I’m Not Okay, and Hongjoong watched the crowd react with the same intensity. This time, there were more girls screaming and hyping them up. He guessed it made sense since all four of them were undeniably attractive, and whatever San and Wooyoung’s dynamic was, it added to the excitement.

This time, instead of a kiss after the chorus, San now grabbed Wooyoung’s hair mid-guitar solo while maintaining eye contact. The fangirls screamed, recording videos and cheering as if it were the highlight of the festival.

When the set ended, Vesper thanked the audience, but Hongjoong noticed Seonghwa scanning the crowd. When their eyes met, he smiled and raised his arm. He looked cute even with that black outfit. Hongjoong laughed, earning a side-eye from his bandmates.

When Vesper got out of the stage, both bands reunited near the side stage and decided to grab something to eat. Even though Hongjoong had wanted to watch a few other acts, he couldn’t deny that he was really hungry. They walked together, praising each other’s performances, until they reached a nearby Mexican restaurant. Everyone ordered different dishes and decided they would share to taste everything.

While waiting for their food, Mingi suddenly asked, glancing at San, “By the way… why do you kiss on stage?” The Lost Signal members turned to him, and Hongjoong wasn’t sure if they could ask that. “Is it popular these days or what?”

Wooyoung glanced at San and seemed to think for a second. “That’s true. Why didn’t you kiss me today?”

“Fans also like the hair pull!” San said, defending himself.

Wooyoung nodded. “Well, that’s why,” he said to Mingi, and they moved on.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but be curious. He wondered how Vesper handled this in Korea; he had no idea how the Korean public would react to the same performances.

The food arrived quickly, and they ate while talking. Hongjoong found himself enjoying Vesper’s company more than he’d expected. Not just Seonghwa, but Yeosang, San, and Wooyoung too. When they finished and paid the bill, everyone debated where to go next, probably to a basketball game that was happening that day. That’s when Hongjoong felt a light tug on his sleeve.

“Do you want to take a little walk? I can show you the city,” Seonghwa asked casually.

Hongjoong hesitated, glancing at his bandmates. “I could… don’t you mind?”

“Of course not,” Seonghwa replied. “I’ve been here before. I’ll show you some spots you might like.”

Their friends didn’t waste time teasing them. And, of course, Wooyoung was first.

“Wow, so you’re just going out with your boyfriend and leaving us behind?” Hongjoong froze at the term boyfriend, while Seonghwa didn’t know where to hide.

Yunho feigned a sob. “Yeah, you don’t even want to spend time with us anymore, hyung.”

Hongjoong’s ears burned, but before he could protest, Yeosang shook his head, laughing. “Relax, and enjoy yourselves. Don’t worry about us.”

After a few more laughs, Wooyoung added, “But you owe us something, hyung!”

Seonghwa waved it off. “Yes, yes,” he said. And before leaving, they promised to meet in the evening and said their goodbyes.

As they walked, Hongjoong spoke first. “Are you sure your friends don’t mind us? We could go with them, too.”

“Oh, don’t worry. When we come here, we usually split up,” he replied. “Even Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang like to go out together while I rest for a bit. They’re just teasing us. What about your friends?”

“We don’t really care,” Hongjoong laughed. “We go out together or not, depending on the day. It’s just… our friends seem to have such a good time together.”

“Mm, talking about that,” Seonghwa added. “I’m really glad our friends got along. I didn’t expect it.”

Hongjoong agreed, and they continued walking. The streets of L.A. had a different energy in the early evening. Hongjoong looked around, taking in the details and snapping photos, while occasionally stealing glances at Seonghwa, who was telling him stories from their past visits.

They ducked into a quiet coffee shop, far from the tourist zone. While Hongjoong ordered two drinks, a young Korean girl approached them hesitantly, holding a notebook, followed by two friends.

“Seonghwa-oppa? Could you sign this, please?” she asked.

Seonghwa’s expression softened. “Of course,” he murmured, scribbling neatly before handing it back. He smiled gently as they praised him, his expression almost charming. Hongjoong was struck by how different he seemed to his fans.

Then one of the girls noticed Hongjoong and gasped. “Oh my God… are you the one from Instagram?”

Hongjoong froze. “Uh…”

Before he could respond, her friend added, “Yes, he is!” Hongjoong blinked, unsure why they were acting like this.

The first girl leaned closer. “What’s your duo name? You know… like together?”

Hongjoong blinked, catching on. He had enough fandom culture knowledge to understand. He turned to Seonghwa and was surprised to see him seriously considering it.

“Hmm… we have to find something in common,” Seonghwa said, holding a hand to his chain. Hongjoong shot him a look that clearly said Are you seriously doing this? But Seonghwa continued. “We’re the oldest in our groups, right?... Mathyung?”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, but if Seonghwa wanted to, he would join him. “Matz,” he suggested after a moment.

Seonghwa paused, considered it, then laughed. “Matz… yeah, I like it.”

The girls squealed. “Yes! I love it! Matz!”

Afterward, they said goodbye, and Seonghwa waved at them before turning to Hongjoong.

“Seriously?” he asked.

“What? They like it!” Seonghwa replied.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes and went to collect their coffees.

They continued walking through the city, passing through murals and art installations, snapping photos, and pausing to admire every corner. Hongjoong found that he liked the simple and quiet intimacy of exploring together. Teasing, brushing hands accidentally on purpose, and laughing about random things.

When they walked through a commercial district, Seonghwa’s gaze caught on a small toy store tucked between two larger shops. He suggested they go inside to check something out, and Hongjoong agreed. After searching through a few aisles, Seonghwa suddenly lit up.

“Oh! They do have the new Animal Crossing LEGO set!” he exclaimed.

Hongjoong tilted his head. “Animal Crossing?” he asked, trying not to sound puzzled.

Seonghwa’s smile softened. “Yeah… I’ve been waiting for this one. I love these little sets. They’re relaxing to build, and I like collecting them, like you saw in my apartment.” He looked at Hongjoong, then back at the display. “Look, it’s Tom Nook’s store!” He pointed at the tiny LEGO model with wide eyes.

Hongjoong smiled quietly. He didn’t fully get it, but he could see how much it meant to him. “It looks… really detailed,” he said, not sure what else to say.

Seonghwa nodded. “Yeah. I wish I could take it home right now.” A moment later, he frowned slightly. “Oh, I just need to run to the bathroom real quick. Could you wait outside?”

“Sure,” Hongjoong said.

As he watched Seonghwa ask an employee where the bathroom was, Hongjoong suddenly had an idea. Without thinking twice, he bought the LEGO set as quickly as he could and stepped outside. Now standing there with the box awkwardly pressed to his chest, he thought about what he had just done. Maybe he’d gone too far. What if Seonghwa was just admiring it and felt uncomfortable that Hongjoong bought it? Should he really have spent that money?

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a gasp. Hongjoong looked up and saw Seonghwa in the store entrance, with his hands covering his mouth.

“Wait, what?!” Seonghwa exclaimed, blinking at the LEGO in his arms.

Hongjoong handed it to him without a word, but Seonghwa shook his head.

“Take it, or I’ll give it to the first kid that walks by,” Hongjoong said, faking annoyance.

Flustered, Seonghwa glanced back toward the store. “No, no… I didn’t mean for you to buy it. Sorry if it seemed like that, I just—”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. Maybe he’d been right, maybe Seonghwa really did feel uncomfortable, but he couldn’t just return it. “Just take it.” He said with a lower voice this time.

“Thank you…” Seonghwa murmured with a flush on his face. He hugged the bag carefully as they continued walking, and Hongjoong’s worries eased when he saw how ridiculous he looked: all black clothes, silver hair, heavy eyeliner, and still somehow adorable, clutching the LEGO like it was everything.

Seonghwa smiled at him and repeated, “Thanks. I really mean it.”

Hongjoong just waved it off, saying it was simply a thank-you for showing him the city.

The sky was getting darker now. They paused to take photos of each other while continuing; Seonghwa took a few candid shots of Hongjoong examining a tiny mural of a cat, and Hongjoong snapped one of Seonghwa laughing at something he had said.

At one point, Seonghwa stopped to gesture toward a small plaza. “When we come here, I always love walking this way. There’s a little fountain I like, and sometimes there’s someone playing music here. I thought you’d like it.”

“Yeah, I really like it…” Hongjoong said, looking at Seonghwa. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Hongjoong looked away. They were standing in silence until one bench was free, and they hurried over before anyone else could take it. They chatted for a while, but then Seonghwa’s phone buzzed with a notification, and his expression dropped as soon as he saw it.

“San just texted,” he said, frowning slightly. “The manager wants us back at the hotel to talk about last-minute stuff for tomorrow.”

Hongjoong’s stomach sank a little. “Ah… so that’s it for today?”

Seonghwa nodded with his lips pressing into a soft line. “I wanted to show you more… but I guess not.”

“Don’t worry,” Hongjoong said, brushing Seonghwa’s hand briefly. “We can come back another time.”

Seonghwa’s smile returned. “Yeah, we can come back.”

They left the plaza and continued walking toward his hotel, stopping again for more photos. Seonghwa handed Hongjoong his phone and asked him to take a photo of him holding his LEGO, which Hongjoong agreed. He posed first smiling, then making a playful kissy face.

Hongjoong laughed at him, and Seonghwa immediately stopped posing. “What? My fans like it!”  

“Your fans, huh? Alright, one more,” Hongjoong said, snapping another picture. Seonghwa suggested a selfie since he wanted a picture of them both before they left. They positioned themselves in front of the fountain and posed. Hongjoong ran a hand through his blonde hair, made sure he looked good, and smiled. Seonghwa lifted the LEGO box to be visible in the shot and grinned. After three selfies, they looked at the pictures together and laughed softly. When they reached the front of Seonghwa’s hotel, he hugged the LEGO box to his chest and looked at Hongjoong earnestly.

“I really enjoyed today, I hoped I could’ve shown you more.”

“Don’t worry,” Hongjoong replied. “Any other day, we can go out like this again.”

Seonghwa hugged the LEGO tighter. “Thanks again,” he whispered. Hongjoong watched him for a moment, struck by how cute he looked.

“Promise me one thing,” he said suddenly. “You have to invite me to build it with you. I’ve never done a LEGO set before.”

Seonghwa’s eyes lit up. “I will,” he said eagerly.

“Excuse me.”

They moved aside to let someone else enter the hotel, creating a brief awkward silence when they noticed how close they were now. Hongjoong saw Seonghwa biting his lip, and their eyes met for a second.

“Well… see you tomorrow then,” he said softly.

Hongjoong hesitated. He really wanted to kiss him.

Stop being a coward.

He had to remind himself that they were nothing yet, they hadn’t decided what they were, and maybe a kiss was too much. But then again, they had kissed before, outside of anything sexual, like the day at the amusement park.

After what felt like an eternity, he gathered the courage to cup Seonghwa’s cheek and leaned in for a gentle kiss. It was soft, brief, nothing like the others they’d shared. Seonghwa froze for an instant, then relaxed into it. His phone rang, but Seonghwa didn’t move to answer.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Hongjoong whispered as they pulled apart.

They shared one last smile, and Hongjoong watched Seonghwa enter his hotel, waving one final time. With a soft exhale, Hongjoong turned toward his own hotel.

On the third day, Lost Signal’s nerves were running high. They were sitting in the green room, trying not to think about the worst-case scenario since their manager was called for last-minute changes. When he came back after being called to the staff tent, the four of them looked up like they were waiting for their death sentence.

“What did they say, hyung?” Hongjoong was the one to ask, trying not to sound scared.

Their manager looked at them with a big smile on his face, “Relax, you’re not cut. In fact, you just got ten extra minutes! One of the other acts dropped, so your set’s now thirty instead of twenty.”

The relief was so big that they couldn’t help but laugh.

“Thirty minutes?!” Jongho’s eyes went wide. “That’s like a real set.”

“Oh, thank god…” Yunho sighed, running his hands through his hair.

Hongjoong just let out a big breath. He was really scared that they could lose this opportunity. It got even better when Vesper came in a little later, sharing the same news. That’s why Seonghwa had been called the night before, to discuss the setlist. After their short soundcheck, they decided to grab breakfast together since there was a small café nearby that looked good. It was half-empty, which worked out perfectly since they needed space to push two tables together. They all ordered bacon, eggs, pancakes, and coffee, and started chatting about their sets.

“So,” Seonghwa said, sipping his coffee, “what are you all adding to the set?”

“We actually had a plan for extra songs,” Hongjoong said. “A demo for our new album, and another track.”

“Oh, you’ve got a new album coming?” Seonghwa asked, and Hongjoong nodded. “We didn’t really know what to add, but we chose some of the less known songs. We think they’ll fit.” Hongjoong agreed.

They kept talking about the festival until Yeosang leaned back and said, “You know what’d be funny? If we switched members for the extra songs.”

Everyone turned to him.

“What do you mean, switched?” Yunho asked.

“Like, change members for one song,” Yeosang explained. “Some of you play in our set, and some of us play in yours.”

They thought about it for a moment, then the idea started sinking in.

“That’d be chaotic,” Yunho said while laughing.

“It’d be amazing,” San cut in. “Imagine the reaction.”

Hongjoong set his fork down, thought for a second, and said, “It’s actually a good idea. We’d just have to be smart about who switches, since we’d only have like ten minutes to practice. No vocal swaps though, that’d be too messy.”

“Yeah, no way I can cover Jongho,” San said while shaking his head. “My poor throat.”
That made Jongho laugh.

“So vocals stay as it is,” Seonghwa summed up. “That leaves instruments.”

“Okay, let’s see.” Wooyoung tapped his plate with his fork. “Who here can actually play something else?”

Mingi raised a hand immediately. “I can play bass, Hongjoong taught me.”

“Good,” Yeosang said. “Then maybe I can switch with Yunho?”

“Yeah, we can do that,” Yunho agreed.

Vesper’s side of the table exchanged looks.

“So, let’s map this out,” San said. “If Jongho stays on vocals for Lost Signal, and I stay on vocals for Vesper, then who fills the rest?”

Seonghwa set his coffee down and turned to Hongjoong. “You can play guitar, right?”

“Yeah, why?” he asked.

“Then Hongjoong can play with us, and Wooyoung can play with Lost Signal,” Seonghwa suggested.

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung muttered. “I actually like the idea.”

“Wait, let’s write this down,” Mingi said, pulling a pen from who-knows-where and scribbling on a napkin. “For Vesper’s extra time: San vocals, Seonghwa on bass, Hongjoong on guitar, Yunho on drums.”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa confirmed.

“And for Lost Signal’s extra time,” Mingi continued, “Jongho vocals, Wooyoung on guitar, Yeosang on drums, and me on bass.”

Everyone sat in silence for another moment while processing the idea. Then Wooyoung slapped the table.

“This is insane, we have to do it.”

“Yeosang, you’re a genius,” San said, and Yeosang just rolled his eyes while smiling.

Hongjoong glanced at San, then raised an eyebrow. “Wait, if I’m on guitar, you’re not gonna kiss me like you do with Wooyoung, right?” That made the whole table burst into laughter.

“Only if Seonghwa doesn’t get mad,” San shot back, making them laugh even harder.

After they finished eating and split the bill, they walked back toward the small rehearsal rooms the festival had set aside for bands. There were just a few, but two were empty. They could hear through the hallways the other bands practicing, but they were too focused on their new plan. Both bands agreed to skip running through the regular setlists since those were already polished. When they got inside one of the side rooms, Lost Signal gathered up first.

“So, which one are we letting Yeosang and Wooyoung play?” Jongho asked.

Mingi glanced at Hongjoong, then said, “The demo. It’s already half-duet between me and Jongho, and I think Yeosang’s voice would actually fit the low parts.”

“Yeah, he’s got the range,” Jongho agreed, looking thoughtful. “And he’s already a vocalist.”

Yunho raised a brow. “Wait, are you sure about asking Yeosang to sing, though? It’s a lot of pressure.”

“We’ll ask him,” Jongho said firmly. “If he’s not into it, we change plans.”

With their final decision, they stood and crossed the hallway to the room where Vesper was setting up.

“Hey,” Hongjoong called as he knocked and pushed the door open. “We have a suggestion for you guys.”

Wooyoung looked up from tuning his guitar. “Sounds serious.”

“Not really,” Mingi replied. “We were thinking that for our switch song, we’d play the demo. But… It’s a duet. Yeosang, we’d want you to sing with Jongho. Is that okay with you?”

Yeosang was clearly surprised at the suggestion.

“Me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jongho said. “We’ve got the lyrics printed already, and Yunho can hand you the drum sheet. It won’t be much, I sing most of the song. But if you’re not comfortable—”

“I like it,” Yeosang cut in with a faint smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll do it.”

Jongho’s face had relief all over it, and Hongjoong made a mental note to thank their manager again for having the lyrics ready. Yunho dug into his bag and passed Yeosang the drum notes, while Mingi handed Wooyoung the guitar sheet.

“Okay, team switch,” Wooyoung said, clapping once. “We’ll take this room. You guys go over there.”

After that, Lost Signal’s temporary lineup claimed one side of the room and began working through the demo, while he rest headed next door to get set up. Seonghwa slung his bass over his shoulder and turned toward them.

“For our extra song, we’ll do this one called The World is Ugly.”

Hongjoong flipped through the sheets Seonghwa handed him. The chords looked deceptively simple for a Vesper song. He thought it could be a sad song, hence the title.

“San’s not here?” Yunho asked, glancing around. Hongjoong did too, only realizing now that San was missing. Seonghwa shook his head while adjusting the tuning pegs.

“He got a call from his dad, but said he’d be back soon. We’ll just practice the instrumental for now.”

“Got it,” Hongjoong said, already testing the opening progression.

They counted in and started running through the song. Hongjoong’s brows were furrowed, since he really tried to focus. Every time his fingers slipped, he clenched his jaw, determined to fix it. He had that tendency to want to do everything really well, even if it was his first try. By the second run-through, he felt a little more confident.

Through the walls, they could hear Lost Signal’s swapped lineup rehearsing. Jongho and Yeosang’s voices blended together surprisingly well. It almost sounded like the song had been written for the two of them.

“Damn,” Yunho muttered during a pause. “We’ll have to use Yeosang for the recorded version.”

They all laughed at that, then kept going. Time slipped by faster than they expected, until a knock on the door from a staff member announcing that they’ll have to be ready soon jolted them back. They packed up quickly and regrouped with the others in the hallway. Lost Signal’s switched lineup looked more drained than they did, but they all looked satisfied.

“How’d it go?” Hongjoong asked.

“Better than expected,” Jongho said with a grin. “Yeosang is really good.”

Yeosang gave a small shrug, though there was big smile on his lips. “No, no. Jongho’s really good.”

“And Wooyoung didn’t fuck up anything,” Mingi added.

“Thanks for the faith,” Wooyoung groaned, which only made everyone laugh.

Just then, San jogged down the hallway, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Sorry, sorry! Family stuff. Were you guys okay without me?”

“We managed,” Seonghwa replied. “But you’ll pay for the beers later.”

“What?!” San yelped, making everyone laugh again.

At that moment, the festival staff appeared down the hallway, signaling Lost Signal’s turn to head backstage. Both bands shared quick pats on shoulders and encouragements before the group moved toward the stage.

Lost Signal were first. They played their same setlist from day one and the extra song, but this time it felt entirely different since they weren’t as nervous as on the first day. Confidence truly played a big role, and the crowd noticed too. The cheers were louder than before, and they sang the lyrics back. For Hongjoong, the sight of strangers singing along, and actually vibing with their songs, sent a jolt of pride through his chest. Even at one point, Mingi crossed the stage to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, bass and guitar lines together, and the audience roared. When they finished the second-to-last song, Hongjoong stepped forward.

“We’ve got a surprise for you guys today.”

The crowd made sounds of confusion, but they were quickly drowned out by excitement when Wooyoung and Yeosang walked onto the stage. Of course, their fangirls screamed louder than everyone else. Hongjoong and Yunho gave quick waves, then hurried offstage, practically running down to the pit so they could watch.

The stage looked strange with the new lineup, but once they started playing, they did surprisingly well.

The demo they chose was one of Mingi’s songs. It was something he had written almost entirely on his own, inspired by one of his deepest heartbreaks. Hongjoong still remembered the night clearly: Mingi sitting stiff in the living room, his phone abandoned on the table after his girlfriend had called to end things. He had phoned her first, hoping to clear up rumors about her cheating, only for her to admit it outright. Mingi had acted like it didn’t matter, brushing it off, but for the rest of that week, he wasn’t himself. His eyes were so sad that the band started to really worry about him, so Hongjoong had suggested writing, saying it might help.

At first, Mingi didn’t want to record it or add it to an album since it felt too personal. But when they finally played it together in practice, they realized how good it was, and reluctantly, Mingi adjusted a few things, just in case it ever found its way onto a record. It still didn’t have a proper title; “Thanks for the Memories” was just a placeholder. But, to be fair, none of them were particularly good at naming songs.

Yeosang’s deep voice came in first, then Jongho’s powerful voice. They were grounding the song in a way that made the hair on Hongjoong’s arms stand up. He never had the opportunity to hear Yeosang’s singing voice before, but it was a totally different experience. And Wooyoung… he wasn’t their guitarist, but he quickly adjusted to Lost Signal’s style. It was admirable.

When it ended, the reaction was explosive. The screams were so loud that Hongjoong got scared, and Vesper’s fangirls in particular shrieked like they’d been given the greatest gift of their lives.

Hongjoong could see the pride on Mingi’s face, followed by relief. They bowed, thanked the audience, and cleared the stage.

Now it was Vesper’s turn.

While they launched into their setlist, Lost Signal regrouped in a side tent. Hongjoong and Yunho decided to run through their part one more time. Hongjoong hated missing Vesper’s final stage, but he couldn’t risk messing this up. He wanted to do it justice. More than that, he wanted to impress not just the audience, but the people he was about to share the stage with.

Suddenly, San’s voice carried through the speakers outside, announcing their extra song.

“That’s us,” Yunho said.

They exchanged a quick nod, packed away their nerves, and walked toward the stage entrance. Yeosang and Wooyoung jogged off, high-fiving them as they passed. The crowd was filled with anticipation as San stepped to the mic and said:

“This one’s called The World is Ugly.”

A wave of screams rippled through the audience.

Hongjoong strapped on Wooyoung’s guitar, Yunho got into position, and the first notes rang out. The three of them: Hongjoong, Yunho, and Seonghwa, started with the instrumental, and then San started singing:

These are the eyes and the lies of the taken,
These are their hearts, but their hearts don’t beat like ours…

Oh. So it was a love song.

Hongjoong tightened his grip on the guitar, forcing himself to stay locked to the rhythm. He glanced at the crowd, swaying to the slow tempo, then at San, who sang with such raw intensity it was almost tangible. Hongjoong noticed that his gaze wasn’t wandering over the audience; it was locked on a single spot. Hongjoong followed it, and he could see in the audience someone with long, black hair. Oh. Well… He turned back to his guitar, pushing the thought away.

They continued playing; it was honestly a beautiful song. Hongjoong couldn’t understand why it was one of Vesper’s lesser-known ones. Sure, it was calmer, slower, but beautiful. Hongjoong was lost in the flow of it when suddenly another voice joined San.

I just wanted you to know,
I wanted you to know…

Hongjoong’s head snapped up, and he saw Seonghwa singing, his deeper tone blending perfectly with San as he played. But… he wasn’t watching at the crowd.

He was watching him.

Right at him.

Their eyes met, and Seonghwa’s lips curved into a faint, secret kind of smile as he sang,

I’m thinking of you,
every night, every day.

For a second, Hongjoong forgot how to breathe. His hand slipped on the fretboard, nearly throwing him off. He started to feel heat and panic in his chest.

Oh shit. This is going too fast. Way too fast.

He really, really shouldn’t be obsessing over this, whatever this was. But then, why was his heart beating so hard? Why did it feel like the whole damn stage narrowed down to just the two of them, like the screaming crowd and San’s voice faded to background noise? He tried to pull himself back into focus, but the lyrics didn’t help.

‘Cause the world is ugly,
but you’re beautiful to me

Oh no. Oh, fuck. This is bad.

It wasn’t supposed to matter this much. They were just friends? Or barely even that, they were still figuring each other out. He couldn’t be falling into something already, not like this.

But it was too late. Way too late.

Are you thinking of me,
like I’m thinking of you?

Hongjoong swallowed hard, forcing himself to play through the rest, with his jaw locked and eyes down, because if he looked up again, he was afraid of what his face might give away. He forced his fingers back into motion, but before he could steady himself, the song was over.

The last note faded, and the audience erupted, but Hongjoong barely heard them over the pounding in his ears. He didn’t even notice when both bands crowded the stage, shouting thank-yous, waving, bowing together. Hongjoong clapped along automatically, but a burn rose behind his eyes that he couldn’t blink away, and the tears slipped before he could stop them.

This was it. This was what he’d dreamed of since he was a kid, scribbling lyrics in the margins of his school notebooks. Standing here, with his band beside him, strangers screaming for their music. It was real. It was happening.

Mingi clapped him on the back, and when Hongjoong looked around, all of his bandmates were smiling at him, wide and proud. It made the tears fall faster. He ducked his head, trying to hide, but then felt Seonghwa’s hand brush his. He looked up, met that same quiet smile from the stage, and couldn’t help but return it.

This was their dream. They were living it.

After their sets, both bands hung around backstage, watching the artists still left on the lineup. Some were people they knew by now, and others complete strangers, but the music was good. Every now and then, someone would pass by and greet them, praising their performances.

When the final act wrapped up, the crowd started spilling out, but the night had only just begun. It was July 4th in L.A., and the whole city was celebrating. There were flags draped over balconies, fireworks already starting to crackle in the sky, and the air began to smoke like a mix of smoke, barbecue, and ocean breeze. Both bands decided they weren’t ready to call it a night.

After walking for a while, they ended up at a bar Wooyoung swore had cheap cover, a decent crowd, and “actually good music.” Inside, it wasn’t much, but all they really wanted was to drink. When they walked in, a few heads turned their way. Fair enough, they probably looked a little out of place. They hadn’t had the chance to change out of their stage clothes, so Lost Signal was in their usual loose pants and oversized shirts, while Vesper was still dressed head-to-toe in black, and each of them had a different hair color. Hongjoong got why people were staring.

The group grabbed one of the big couches in the corner and ordered a round. They chatted and laughed while drinking, but like always, people started drifting. Mingi was the first one to disappear, since he was pulled onto the dance floor by a girl, and Yunho leaned into the group at the next table until he was basically part of them. Wooyoung and San had tucked themselves into their own corner of the couch, and the rest decided to give them some privacy. They migrated to the bar, ordered another round, and leaned against the counter as they waited. The bartender slid their beers over, and they clinked bottles before moving a step away from the crush of bodies.

“It’s funny that now that Seonghwa and I decided to stay with you, everyone split up,” Hongjoong said, sipping from his bottle.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t run the second we sat down,” Yeosang replied, which made them all laugh.

Hongjoong didn’t notice at first how close Yeosang and Jongho had gotten, there was something about the way they leaned into each other when talking. The two of them kept the conversation going, and Hongjoong just nodded along, smiling when they pulled him in, but his eyes kept drifting toward Seonghwa, who was sipping his drink quietly. He wasn’t smiling like before, just kind of zoning out.

Hongjoong tilted his head, then leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Wanna get out of here for a bit? Go for a walk or something?”

Seonghwa hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Hongjoong turned back to the other two. “We’re gonna head out for a bit. Jongho, cover the beers for me, I’ll send you the money later.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Jongho replied, already wrapped up in his argument with Yeosang about which festival act had been the best.

Hongjoong laced his fingers with Seonghwa’s as they tried to track down Mingi and Yunho, first scanning the dance floor, then the couches, but after a few minutes, they gave up. No luck. The only ones in sight were Wooyoung and San, slumped together on the same couch. They’d definitely had more drinks since both were flushed, and Wooyoung was practically in San’s lap.

“Hongjoong and I are going for a walk,” Seonghwa announced as they approached.

Wooyoung smirked instantly, leaning back. “A walk… right.”

San burst out laughing, almost spilling his glass. Seonghwa just rolled his eyes and kicked Wooyoung’s leg under the table, hard enough to make him yelp.

“Don’t get lost out there,” San slurred while his head dropped lazily onto Wooyoung’s shoulder.

“Bring him back in one piece,” Wooyoung called after them with a wink.

Seonghwa just shook his head, sighing, but Hongjoong caught the little smile tugging at his mouth as they pushed through the bar’s front door. They walked in silence for a while, but with Seonghwa, it was always the good kind of silence. The streets around them were filled with drunk people, cars rolling by blasting music, and fireworks cracking in the distance. But none of it really mattered to Hongjoong. Right then, all he cared about was Seonghwa.

Eventually, they stumbled on a small park tucked away from the noise. It wasn’t crowded, just a couple of people passing through, and the clearing was open enough to give them a clear view of the sky.

They sat side by side on the grass, with the faint hum of the city around them, and only hearing the red and blue fireworks. Neither spoke; it was enough just to sit there. But Hongjoong was worried about Seonghwa, so he glanced over and asked softly, “Is something bothering you? I mean… we’re not exactly close friends, but… I’d like to try, if you want to talk.”

Seonghwa let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t say things like that. You’re more important to me than you think.”

Hongjoong was caught off guard, but before he could answer, Seonghwa continued.

“Events like this… they always make me emotional. It hasn’t been easy to get here. My family… they don’t hate what I do, but they don’t really accept it either. I love them, but sometimes I wish my dream wasn’t… something we never talk about.” He exhaled, looking down at his hands. “When I met Yeosang, I felt less alone. He’d just been kicked out by his dad for wanting to be an artist, and we decided to rent a place together. Then Wooyoung came around all the time since he’s Yeosang’s best friend, then San… and somehow, we became a band. They’re my family now. I’m proud of them. Of us.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened. Without thinking, he reached out and took Seonghwa’s hand, squeezing it lightly. Seonghwa didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked up at the fireworks again and smiled faintly. “Anyway, enough heavy talk.” He turned toward Hongjoong. “How did it feel, playing with us?”

“Different,” Hongjoong admitted. “We’re both rock bands, but you guys… it felt like another world.”

Seonghwa’s smile widened. “Funny thing, I wasn’t supposed to sing that part tonight. It’s just San, but I told him before I wanted to try. Thought you might like the surprise.”

Hongjoong couldn’t shake the image of Seonghwa on stage, singing while looking directly at him; it kept replaying in his head. His stomach twisted with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to. What does this mean for Seonghwa? Is this just… sex? Or does he actually want something more?

Seonghwa didn’t seem like the type to mess around with something like this. Suddenly, he wished he could just ask and get a straight answer, without overthinking it a hundred times first, but he never really liked this type of conversation. His throat tightened. He swallowed hard before finally asking, with his voice rougher than he meant it to be.

“What did it mean? Those lyrics… No, all of this. What does it mean?”

Seonghwa didn’t answer right away. He kept his eyes fixed on the night sky, watching as a firework cracked open into blue sparks that scattered and disappeared into smoke. Every second of silence made something in Hongjoong’s chest ache.

After a while, Seonghwa said quietly, “It means what it means.”

The answer should’ve frustrated him, but instead it left Hongjoong even more drawn in. The glow of the firework lit Seonghwa’s profile, and he could see his sharp jaw, the slope of his nose. Hongjoong had always thought Seonghwa carried a kind of contradiction: everything about his face was sharp, striking, but there was this softness in his big eyes that could undo him completely.

That softness was there now, and it made his heart ache.

Almost without thinking, Hongjoong reached up, his fingers brushing gently through Seonghwa’s hair. The gesture felt fragile, tentative, like he was testing whether he was even allowed this, even though they’d kissed before. Seonghwa finally turned at the touch, meeting his eyes, and every alarm in Hongjoong went off. But, with those wide eyes and slightly parted lips, how could he think about anything else?

So, he leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t like the other kisses they’d shared. This one was slower, deeper, as if he needed to pour everything he’d been holding back into it. Gratitude. Confusion. Longing. Fear. Hope. He kissed Seonghwa like it was the only language he had left, like maybe if he did it right, Seonghwa would understand everything he couldn’t say aloud.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Hongjoong kept his forehead resting against Seonghwa’s for a few seconds, searching his face. His voice trembled as he spoke.

“Wanna go back to my hotel room?”

Chapter Text

The walk back to the hotel felt strangely suspended, like the night had pressed pause on the rest of the world. People were still celebrating around them, but none of it seemed to touch them. Hongjoong knew exactly why he had suggested going to his hotel room; he wanted to escape, to distract themselves from the questions that had been hovering between them all night. As long as things stayed physical, as long as they didn’t name whatever this was, maybe it would stay manageable.

At one point, he remembered his friends, so he got his phone out and sent Yunho a short message to let him know not to expect them back, and if he could sleep with Mingi and Jongho tonight. Hongjoong really hoped he’d see it before deciding to show up at his room in the middle of the night. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and tried not to picture what Yunho’s expression would be when he read it.

When they finally stepped into the hotel, Hongjoong felt suddenly insecure. Compared to the hotel where Vesper stayed, this was nothing. He stupidly worried that Seonghwa would see it as lacking, but he didn’t say anything; he only stood there for a moment looking around the lobby with curiosity. That tiny detail let Hongjoong breathe easier.

He led the way into the elevator, pressing the button, and when the doors opened on his floor, he guided Seonghwa down the hall to his room. He couldn’t help but mentally thank the cleaning staff when he turned the key and saw the room spotless. He didn't even remember how they had left the room before going to the festival, but it wasn't clean.

He let Seonghwa step inside, and they agreed to shower first. But when Seonghwa suggested doing it together, Hongjoong was caught off guard. Seonghwa only reminded him that it wasn’t like they hadn’t done it before. Well, that's true, the first time they had sex, they took a shower afterward. Resignated, he nodded, following him in. 

Except, this shower was nothing like the other; there wasn't even a single kiss or that same desperation; it was the opposite. They helped each other wash slowly while Seonghwa hummed a song under his breath, and when he asked Hongjoong to help him wash his back, he first noticed the line of his muscles, then how the tan of his skin stood out more now, probably since he spent more time here under the sun than in Seoul, and the silver hair only made it more noticeable. He thought, not for the first time, how unfairly hot Seonghwa was.

When Seonghwa turned around and they made eye contact, Hongjoong wanted to escape. He didn't even want to think about his expression while Seonghwa made comments like:

“I didn’t notice this mole before.”

or,

“Your skin’s softer than I thought.”

Hongjoong just tried his best to focus on anything else.

After they finished, they helped dry each other off. Hongjoong slipped into one of the hotel robes and handed the other to Seonghwa, feeling guilty about Yunho. He mentally promised that he’d make it up to him by asking for another one tomorrow. They walked out of the bathroom, and Hongjoong pointed to the bed while telling Seonghwa to wait there while he got what they needed. As he rummaged through his bag, he remembered that twist of jealousy he’d felt a couple nights ago because Seonghwa had brought condoms and lube. It was ironic since he’d packed his own for the same reason.

When he turned back, he didn't find Seonghwa on the bed, but instead stood by the window. Fireworks burst outside, splintering into the night sky around him, illuminating his figure in flashes of red, blue, gold. For a second, Hongjoong just stared. If Seonghwa only wanted sex from him, then maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe this was still worth it, because how could he ever want to look away from this view?

He approached quietly, slipping his arms around Seonghwa’s waist from behind, resting his head against his shoulder. He felt Seonghwa stiffen for a second too long and eventually relax into the embrace. It struck Hongjoong that this simple, wordless touch was more intimate than anything they’d done before, and the realization that he was the one who’d initiated it made his chest tighten.

“The sky looks beautiful like this,” Seonghwa murmured, with his voice almost drowned out by another burst outside. Thankfully, they were on one of the highest floors, and no other buildings were in sight, so they had a clear view.

Hongjoong nodded against his shoulder. “Yeah.”

He pressed a slow kiss against Seonghwa’s neck, felt the way his breath hitched, then another kiss, trailing lower. His fingers moved to undo the belt of Seonghwa’s robe as his lips mapped a line down to his shoulder, his back. Seonghwa’s soft sighs filled the space until one came out deeper, louder.

“Are you sensitive here?” Hongjoong asked, and the small nod he got in response only made him keep going, kissing along his spine until the robe slipped from Seonghwa’s shoulders to the floor.

Hongjoong guided him to turn around, and his breath caught. Seonghwa’s face was flushed, glowing faintly under the glow of the fireworks, eyes wide, lips parted. Hongjoong barely had time to take it in before Seonghwa closed the distance, kissing him with urgency, pulling at Hongjoong’s own robe until it fell too. He couldn’t help smiling against his mouth when their kiss became messy, desperate. Hongjoong’s hands came up to cradle Seonghwa’s face, his thumbs stroking the high arches of his cheekbones as he tasted him, savoring the moment. When they finally broke apart, both were breathless.

Hongjoong let his actions convey everything his words couldn’t, so he began a slow, worshipful descent down the length of Seonghwa’s body. His lips found the pulse hammering at the base of his throat, then the sharp line of his collarbone. He paid homage to the elegant slope of his shoulders, biting down gently on the taut muscle, eliciting a gasp from Seonghwa.

He lowered himself further and touched the flat plane of Seonghwa’s stomach, feeling the muscles quiver under his touch, before his mouth closed over one peaked nipple. He tasted it with his tongue, circling and sucking until Seonghwa’s fingers tangled in his hair, then he gave the same attention to the other, reveling in the sounds falling from Seonghwa’s lips.

His journey continued downward, over the delicate skin of his abdomen, tracing the defined lines of his hips, the sharp V of his pelvis. He mouthed at the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, feeling the powerful muscles there tremble. Finally, he was on his knees, face to face with the evidence of Seonghwa’s desire, hard and flushed against his stomach.

Hongjoong looked up, and their eyes locked. Seonghwa was a mess, the sight of it making Hongjoong’s lips curve into a wicked smile as his eyes drifted down Seonghwa’s body, realizing that he was completely hard. Hongjoong wasn’t the only one wanting this.

“Look at you,” Hongjoong murmured, looking directly at him. “So fucking beautiful.”

His hands skimmed up Seonghwa’s thighs as he glanced around for the lube, and when his fingers found the discarded bottle and the condoms on the floor beside them, he slicked his palms, warming the gel between them before slowly wrapping his hand around Seonghwa’s hard cock.

Seonghwa jolted immediately, a choked-off moan escaping him as his hips gave an involuntary thrust into the tight, wet heat of Hongjoong’s fist. Hongjoong began a slow rhythm, his strokes long and firm, while his other hand held Seonghwa steady by the hip.

“So responsive tonight,” Hongjoong breathed against his skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the jut of his hip bone. He swiped his thumb over the leaking tip, spreading the moisture, and Seonghwa cried out while his head fell back.

“Hongjoong, wait,” Seonghwa panted, lowering his hand to cover Hongjoong’s, stilling his movements. “I don’t want to come like this.”

Hongjoong stilled, looking up at him. The raw need in Seonghwa’s voice sent a jolt straight through him. He wanted to draw this out as much as possible, to wring every last drop of pleasure from him until he was mindless and he could remember this night forever, but he also needed him. Knowing exactly what Seonghwa wanted, he released him with a final squeeze, rose to his feet, and captured his mouth in a kiss.

“Turn around,” he whispered against his lips.

He turned Seonghwa toward the window, pressing him against the cool glass. In the reflection, he caught Seonghwa’s dazed expression and his own flushed face, the fireworks exploding behind them. Hongjoong retrieved the lube again, coating his fingers generously, and pressed close behind Seonghwa with one arm wrapping around his waist to hold him steady, his mouth finding the shell of his ear.

“Watch,” he commanded softly.

He pressed his first finger against him, circling slowly before pushing in past the initial resistance. Seonghwa gasped, his hands splaying against the glass, and his breath fogging a small circle on the pane.

“So tight,” Hongjoong groaned, his own cock twitching at the sensation. He worked his finger in deeper, crooking it gently. He added a second finger, the stretch more pronounced. Seonghwa’s head dropped between his shoulders, letting out a low moan. Hongjoong scissored his fingers carefully, stretching and preparing him, while his eyes were glued to their reflection. He could see the exact moment the pleasure began to override the slight pain, the dazed, overwhelmed look on Seonghwa’s face in the glass.

“You see that?” Hongjoong murmured. “Look at yourself. Look how beautiful you are like this, right here for the whole world to see.”

The truth was, even if Hongjoong could be a bit possessive, he didn’t mind the thought of the world catching a glimpse of this. Maybe because deep down he knew it wouldn’t last. Seonghwa wasn’t his and probably never would be. And yet, being here with him, hearing his voice falter and seeing that rare softness slip through, Hongjoong wanted to memorize all of it, burn it into himself like proof it had happened.

It was a cruel kind of happiness, and still, if this one fragile moment where he could pretend was all he could ever get, he would take it, treasure it.

When a third finger joined the others, Seonghwa sobbed.

“Joong, I’m gonna come… please, can I?”

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong soothed, and quickly wrapped his lubed hand around Seonghwa’s cock, stroking him in time with his fingers. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

It was all the permission he needed. With a cry, Seonghwa came apart in his arms, his release stripping the window in front of them as his body shuddered violently. Hongjoong held him through it, his fingers still gently working inside him to draw out the last waves of his climax, and whispering praises. He was mesmerized by the ruined, blissful expression reflected back at him. He watched, captivated, as the man in the glass was completely unraveled, and the sight branded itself onto his soul.

Hongjoong let him ride the aftershocks and catch his breath. Seonghwa’s chest heaved against the cool glass, his body spent and pliant. After a while, he spoke.

“Please, Hongjoong… I need to feel you inside.”

Hongjoong only answered by kissing him on the cheek and carefully withdrew his fingers, earning a soft whimper at the loss. He took a moment to tear open a condom and roll it on, adding more lubricant, then positioned himself, the head of his cock pressing against Seonghwa’s stretched and sensitive entrance.

“You okay?” he murmured, pausing to give him one last chance to change his mind and continue catching his breath.

“Yes,” Seonghwa gasped, pushing back against him. “Please.”

Hongjoong pushed in, slowly, inch by inch, giving Seonghwa’s time to adjust. He held himself perfectly still, with his forehead pressed against Seonghwa’s shoulder. When he was fully sheathed, both of them moaned. And just as he was about to ask if Seonghwa was alright, he rolled his hips slowly, taking Hongjoong even deeper and making him gasp. That was all the invitation Hongjoong needed. His grip tightened on Seonghwa’s waist, and dug his fingers into honey skin. He drew back slowly, savoring the exquisite drag, before pushing back. The only sounds were their mingled breaths, the soft, wet slide of their bodies, and the occasional dull thud of Seonghwa’s palms shifting against the glass.

Hongjoong’s hands gripped Seonghwa’s hips as he watched their reflection, mesmerized by the way Seonghwa’s body yielded to his. But suddenly, Seonghwa’s free hand came up, tangling in his own hair, then sliding down to cover his eyes, obscuring his expression from the mirror. Something flared in Hongjoong’s gut. He needed to see, he needed to know what was happening. So, without warning, he pulled out completely, making Seonghwa whine at the sudden emptiness.

“Why…?”

Hongjoong ignored the question, his hands gently turning Seonghwa around to face him. The sight was even more devastating up close; Seonghwa’s face was flushed, his lips swollen and glistening, and his eyes glazed with a need so profound it made Hongjoong’s heart clench. He crashed their lips together.

“I need to see you,” Hongjoong said against his mouth. “You were hiding from me.”

He shifted them both; now Seonghwa’s back was against the window, and he guided one of Seonghwa’s legs around Hongjoong’s waist to pull him closer, drawing him in with the strength of his own body. The new position was uncomfortable at first, but more intimate. A sharp cry escaped Seonghwa as Hongjoong entered him again, face-to-face, his arms immediately wrapping around his neck for balance.

“Is this better?” Seonghwa whispered, his breath hot against Hongjoong’s ear.

“So much better,” Hongjoong groaned, his hands gripping Seonghwa’s thighs to help him set a new, slower rhythm. He could watch every flicker of pleasure cross Seonghwa’s face. He drank in every gasp, every flutter of his lashes, every time his perfect lips parted on a sigh.

Slowly, inevitably, the rhythm began to change. It was more desperate now. Hongjoong’s thrusts lost their control, becoming sharper, faster. Seonghwa’s fingers tangled in Hongjoong’s hair, his head thrown back against the glass.

It was during one particularly deep, angled thrust that Hongjoong saw a single tear running through Seonghwa’s cheek. Hongjoong stilled for a second, worried, but the way Seonghwa’s body clenched around him gave him the answer. Seonghwa pulled slightly at Hongjoong's hair and tried to move since he slowed his rhythm, which only made him smirk.

“I know,” Hongjoong whispered against his neck. “I know, baby. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He shifted his angle, aiming for that same spot again and again, each thrust now a targeted assault on Seonghwa’s senses. Another tear escaped, and then another, until Seonghwa was crying silently, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the pleasure coursing through him. Seeing Seonghwa so beautifully undone, so perfectly wrecked by his touch, ignited something primal in Hongjoong. He needed to push him over that final edge. So, with a growl, Hongjoong reached between them, his fingers wrapping around Seonghwa’s weeping erection. He stroked him in time with his thrusts, and the dual sensation was too much.

“Come on, baby,” Hongjoong urged while his pace became relentless. “Let me see you. Let go for me.”

The use of the nickname, the sensations, and the pace was too much for Seonghwa. As his orgasm crashed over him, his body went limp, all strength leaving him as he collapsed forward, burying his face in Hongjoong’s neck. A sob escaped his lips as he spilled over Hongjoong’s fist, his body clenching even more. The feeling of Seonghwa tightening around him was enough for Hongjoong, and with a groan, he drove into him one last time, his own release crashing over him.

As he held him impossibly close, shuddering through the waves of his climax, he could feel the hot tears on his shoulder and the occasional hiccup. He kept his hand moving, gentle now, stroking him through the sensitive aftershocks until he felt Seonghwa whimper softly against his neck.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong murmured and wrapped his arms tightly around Seonghwa. “You were so perfect, so good for me.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that, slumped together, their harsh breaths the only sound in the quiet room. Then, Hongjoong slipped out carefully, making them whine. Seonghwa’s silver hair clung to his damp forehead, so Hongjoong brushed the strands back gently, revealing his flushed face, and leaned down to press a kiss against his lips.

He helped Seonghwa to the bed, steadying him when his legs wavered, and guided him to lie down against the sheets. For a few seconds, Hongjoong simply looked at him, all stretched out, still catching his breath, and his chest rising and falling. He pulled himself together, went to the bathroom, removed the condom, grabbed a towel, and returned. In silence, he cleaned Seonghwa first, then himself. When he was done, Hongjoong sat at the foot of the bed and began to massage Seonghwa’s thigh, which made him let out a short laugh.

“How did you know it was almost cramping?” he asked, still a bit breathless.

Hongjoong laughed softly. “I could tell.”

Hongjoong’s hands kept working slowly, while Seonghwa leaned his head back against the pillow. His eyes drifted to the window, watching as the last bursts of fireworks fizzled out.

“It’s almost over,” Seonghwa murmured.

Hongjoong followed his gaze. “Yeah. Honestly, I don’t really like the noise,” he admitted, “but they’re beautiful.”

“Mm,” Seonghwa agreed.

Switching to the other leg, Hongjoong’s fingers pressed carefully into the muscle. After a pause, he asked, “Do you feel better now?”

Seonghwa smirked faintly, turning his head toward him. “After fucking, do you really think I wouldn’t?”

Hongjoong laughed, shaking his head. “No, seriously. Do you feel better?”

Seonghwa went quiet for a minute, his lips pressed together as if he had to think about it. Finally, he said, “Don’t you ever get that feeling… when everything’s going too well, like something bad has to happen?”

Hongjoong froze, and his hands stilled on Seonghwa’s knee. He knew that feeling too well. That voice in his head that told him not to trust happiness, that if he let himself believe in it, it would only get ripped away. He lived with it constantly, forcing himself to shove it down so it wouldn’t consume him. Before he could form a reply, Seonghwa let out a sigh and cut in.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.” He said. “It’s just… whenever I’m happy, something bad follows. Like maybe I don’t deserve happiness. And honestly… I could understand that.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened. He’d never been good at comforting people; what was he supposed to say when he barely knew how to handle it himself? Seonghwa really did seem like a good person, though. He tried, cared about his friends, and even if his family didn’t accept him, he still loved them anyway. How could he not deserve to be happy? Hongjoong hesitated, searching for the right words before finally asking,

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

Seonghwa shook his head and smiled more softly this time, almost like he was the one trying to reassure Hongjoong.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just thinking too much.”

Before Hongjoong could protest, Seonghwa leaned forward, cupping his cheek with one hand, and kissed him deeply.

“Let’s do it again,” Seonghwa murmured when they separated, already guiding Hongjoong back against the pillows, and climbing over him. Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa was trying to distract him. Part of him wanted to stop, but another part knew that they weren’t that close. So he let him take control, let himself get lost in the warmth of his body. When they finished, Hongjoong cleaned them both again, then his hands lingered on Seonghwa’s back, memorizing the warmth and soft shiver under his fingers. Seonghwa didn’t move much, only pressed his face against Hongjoong’s neck.

They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other. This kind of intimacy was still strange for Hongjoong since he rarely let his friends touch him, and even with his family, it always felt awkward. With past partners, it had taken time before he could get used to it. But when Seonghwa’s arm slipped across his chest, and rested his head there, he didn’t flinch or pull away. He just let it happen. Maybe it was the drowsiness, but instead of tensing, he found himself nudging gently at Seonghwa’s back, keeping him close until they fell asleep.

Hongjoong woke up in a quiet room, and the space beside him was empty. His body tensed before his mind even caught up, and he scanned the dark room, but he was alone. He turned toward the nightstand, and his phone was there, so he checked it and realized that it was 5 a.m. He only had two notifications: one from Yunho last night, telling him not to profane his bed, and another from the group chat: the others figuring out a ride back to the hotel about an hour ago. No Seonghwa.

Hongjoong felt disappointed, but forced himself to push it down. He shouldn’t feel that way. Instead, he got up, slipped into casual clothes, and headed to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, he thought about distracting himself, so he got out and decided to go to Mingi and Jongho’s room, but on his way, something caught his attention. In the smoking area, he could see Seonghwa dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. Hongjoong froze, feeling relief and surprise at the same time. Before he could second-guess it, he crossed the hall and pushed the door open, making Seonghwa turn around, surprised.

“Sorry,” he said immediately. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Hongjoong shook his head. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just couldn’t sleep.” He exhaled and held up the pack in his hand. “Do you want one?”

Hongjoong nodded immediately; he hadn’t smoked in a while. He lit it, but it felt strange. He turned it over on his tongue. It didn’t taste like the ones from home.

“Did you buy these here?” he asked.

“Yeah, as soon as we landed,” Seonghwa replied. “I usually carry a pack, in case I get nervous.”

“Nervous?” Hongjoong asked, watching him.

Seonghwa laughed softly. “Same as yesterday. Don’t worry about it.”

But Hongjoong did. He remembered the conversation from the night before, and the way Seonghwa had said he didn’t deserve happiness. Even though it’s difficult for him to comfort someone, he really wanted to help with whatever was happening to Seonghwa. He looked at the sky for a moment, smoking occasionally while thinking, and after a moment, he spoke.

“I don’t know why you think you don’t deserve to be happy. I mean, yeah, I’m almost a stranger to you, but even from here I can see how much you try, how much you care for your friends. And despite everything, it’s obvious you still love your family. That doesn’t look like a bad person to me,” Hongjoong looked at him. “You do deserve happiness, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa stared at him, frozen in place. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything until his cigarette burned down too far, and the ember kissed his finger. He hissed, jerking it away, making Hongjoong laugh. Seonghwa shook his head at himself, put it out, and immediately lit another. 

“Stop saying you’re like a stranger to me, far from it.” He looked at Hongjoong, then at the city view. “What you just said… it means more than you think. Really, thank you.”

Hongjoong smiled at that, feeling a bit relieved. They smoked in silence after that, looking at the cloudy sky. Seonghwa offered him another, and Hongjoong took it. After that, they started to talk about nothing in particular until the sky lit up. At around six, Seonghwa decided it was time to leave.

“I should check on my friends. I hope I don’t have to clean vomit today.”

“It has happened before?” Hongjoong asked while chuckling, and Seonghwa nodded.

They stayed in silence for a moment. They really never knew how to say goodbye; it was always this awkward. Finally, Hongjoong said, “Do you want me to walk you back to your hotel?”

Seonghwa shook his head gently. “Don’t worry about it, you should go see your friends.”

They smiled at each other, and Seonghwa left. Hongjoong decided to stay there to finish his cigarette alone. A minute later, the door opened suddenly, and Yunho stepped out, surprising Hongjoong.

“Knew I heard your voice.”

Hongjoong smirked and held out the half-finished cigarette. Yunho’s face twisted instantly in disgust, which only made Hongjoong laugh. That was the point. They headed back inside together while Yunho started telling him what had happened last night.

“First, Yeosang drank so much he was practically draped over Jongho. Poor kid had to take care of Yeosang in the bathroom while he puked. You should’ve seen his face!” He said, and both laughed. Hongjoong could picture it.

“And then,” Yunho lowered his voice a little and closed the door to their room. “I sat down with San and Wooyoung for a drink, and suddenly Wooyoung kissed me on the cheek! I was shocked. For a second I thought he was… you know, into me.” He paused, shaking his head at himself. “But then we kept talking, and I realized San and Wooyoung are actually together. Like, they’re boyfriends. Which is crazy, because I’ve seen them kiss before, but I guess I never thought about it.”

That caught Hongjoong off guard. He wondered how Yunho, being as perceptive as he is, didn’t notice before. They sat on Yunho’s bed while he continued.

“And Mingi,” Yunho was almost wheezing with laughter now. “He actually got the number of the girl he was dancing with, but he lost it! He was too drunk, then messed around with me and some other guys, and poof. Gone.”

Hongjoong let him ramble, but Yunho suddenly paused and glanced at him with a worried look.

“Hyung, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Hongjoong asked, surprised.

“You just seemed a little lost,” Yunho said carefully.

“I’m fine,” Hongjoong answered quickly. Yunho studied him for another moment, then let it go, going back to his story. When he finally finished, Yunho grabbed his things and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

“Hyung! Don’t we have bathrobes?!” he shouted through the door.

Hongjoong got up immediately and checked near the window. He hadn’t noticed before, but it looked like Seonghwa had tried to wipe the glass clean and had folded both bathrobes neatly on the floor. He exhaled and called back to Yunho, “I’ll ask for one while you shower.”

When he returned, he lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Surprisingly, he didn’t think of anything. Eventually, though, exhaustion caught up to him.

Hongjoong woke to the sound of someone calling his name and a light shake on his arm. He blinked against the sunlight filtering through the curtains and groaned, rolling over.

“Hyung,” Jongho’s voice came again, a little louder this time. “It’s already twelve.”

That caught his attention. Hongjoong sat up quickly, his hair sticking up in all directions. “Twelve? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Jongho said, looking too awake for someone who’d been the designated babysitter last night. “The guys from Vesper invited us to grab lunch and then hit the beach.”

Hongjoong just stared at him, still sleepy. He didn’t expect to go to the beach, but the thought actually sounded nice. He’d even packed clothes in case his friends wanted to go.

“Lunch and the beach,” he repeated, rubbing his face. “Okay. Did you tell the others?”

“They’re already getting ready,” Jongho replied. “So you better move unless you wanna be last.”

Hongjoong forced himself out of bed to take a shower, then pulled on fresh clothes and grabbed the bag he’d packed with his swim shorts and a towel. By the time everyone was ready, they called a taxi and piled in. The restaurant Vesper had recommended wasn’t too far. After paying the fare, they stepped out and headed inside. Vesper was already waiting for them, and to everyone’s surprise, it was the first time they’d seen them in casual clothes, Seonghwa being the only exception for Hongjoong.

“You look good,” Yunho said as they slid into the booth across from them, and everyone laughed while greeting each other. The moment the waitress brought their menus, Yeosang leaned closer to Jongho.

“Hey,” He said, bowing his head a little. “About last night, I’m sorry you had to deal with me.”

Jongho laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Really, it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was!” Yeosang insisted.

“He was even apologizing to you in his dreams,” San said, and that made everyone laugh.

As the conversation carried on, Hongjoong couldn’t help noticing how quiet Seonghwa was. He still laughed with the others and chimed in here and there, but his energy felt different. Hongjoong kept catching himself glancing over, though this time Seonghwa never looked back. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but it made his stomach sink. Still, he wasn’t going to push if Seonghwa didn’t want to talk about it. By four o’clock, they decided it was time to leave.

“We should rent cars,” Seonghwa said once they stepped outside. “Two would be enough.”

“Where?” Jongho asked.

“There’s a rental place a few blocks down,” San replied, checking his phone. “We can go there now.”

The process was pretty straightforward. Inside the small office, the clerk checked their licenses, IDs, and asked for a credit card, which San handed over without hesitation. Hongjoong tapped his foot through the paperwork, listening carefully as the guy explained the insurance policy in English before sliding the contract across for them to sign. Within half an hour, two midsize cars were ready for them.

“Manhattan Beach?” San asked, glancing at the group.

“We don’t know any beaches here,” Mingi replied quickly.

“It’s our favorite one, you’ll like it,” Yeosang assured, and everyone nodded.

“Okay then,” San said. “I’ll drive one. I know the way.”

“I’ll take the other, I’ll be following you,” Hongjoong said.

They found their cars and started sorting seats. Hongjoong ended up behind the wheel of the first, and was surprised when Seonghwa slid into the passenger seat beside him. Yunho and Mingi claimed the back. In the other car, San drove with Jongho in the passenger seat, with Wooyoung and Yeosang in the back.

Hongjoong handed Seonghwa his phone and told him to look for the beach on Maps. He was going to follow San, but just in case. He tried and failed to connect his phone to the radio, so he left it on the first station it landed on, in which they were playing an indie song, and he was just starting to vibe with it when Yunho groaned.

“Hyung, play something else,” he said, leaning forward toward the console.

“Hands off,” Hongjoong warned, keeping one hand on the wheel.

“This is boring!”

Before Hongjoong could swat him away, Seonghwa reached forward calmly, and his hand brushed against Hongjoong’s as he took the knob. He flipped through a few stations until he found a pop station. His touch was warm against Hongjoong’s skin, which made his grip tighten on the wheel.

“Better,” Seonghwa said with satisfaction, glancing at him.

From the backseat, Yunho burst out laughing. “You two are like an old married couple. Look at this!”

Hongjoong shot him a sharp glare through the rearview mirror, which only made Yunho laugh and slap Mingi’s arm for backup. Mingi was already wheezing.

“I’m gonna kill you both,” Hongjoong muttered, his eyes back on the road.

“Sure you will,” Yunho kept laughing.

Seonghwa didn’t say anything; he only adjusted his sunglasses and nudged the volume up slightly, but Hongjoong caught the faint smile tugging at his lips. He refocused on the road.

The drive felt shorter than expected. They pulled into the lot, rolled the windows down, and handed over cash for the day rate at the booth before squeezing into a spot. Together they helped Wooyoung and Yeosang haul out the oversized bag stuffed with umbrellas, extra towels, and the cheap volleyball they’d insisted on buying on the way. They carried everything across the warm sand, and to their surprise, the beach wasn’t nearly as packed as they’d imagined. Sure, there were a lot of people, but there was still plenty of space. When they found a good spot, they stabbed the umbrellas into the sand and spread the towels. Some took their shirts off, tossed their bags, and everyone started settling in.

Hongjoong sat cross-legged on his towel, squeezing the sunscreen into his palm. He rubbed it over his arms and neck, careful not to smear it on his tank top. When he glanced up, he saw San running sunscreen across Seonghwa’s back while talking with Yeosang.

Hongjoong’s gaze lingered longer than it should have. He admired Seonghwa’s shoulders, his muscles, the honey-colored skin catching the sunlight, and couldn’t look away. His mind betrayed him, flashing back to the night before, the way that same back had been under his hands. He barely noticed the sunscreen drying tacky on his own palms.

“Be more subtle.”

The voice snapped him out of it. He turned, startled, to find Wooyoung standing over him, slipping on his sunglasses. He was holding a plastic bag with drinks, and pulled out a can, handing it over.

“Here,” Wooyoung said. “Before you burn up.”

Hongjoong took it quickly, thanking him. Wooyoung smiled, then walked toward the others with the rest of the drinks. Hongjoong cracked the soda open immediately and started drinking. Mingi dropped down beside him and tried to start a conversation, but before Hongjoong could reply, a sudden burst of laughter erupted behind them. Both turned in time to see San get up from his towel and run across the sand with Seonghwa following him immediately, yelling something.

“Don’t! You just put sunscreen on!” Yeosang shouted after them, but neither of them listened. San darted toward the shoreline, and Seonghwa closed the gap, caught him right at the edge of the water, stumbling. Seonghwa started splashing San while he laughed so hard he could barely fight back.

Hongjoong watched, with his soda forgotten in his hand, how Seonghwa seemed so happy, his smile so big. So why, he thought, was it only with him that Seonghwa seemed distant? Why was he laughing so easily now, after barely smiling at him? He shoved the thought aside immediately and told himself to stop exaggerating, to stop reading into things. These were his best friends, he was allowed to have fun with them.

Eventually, San and Seonghwa dragged themselves back and collapsed onto their towels. Wooyoung scolded them for getting sand everywhere, but neither cared. They chatted lazily until the sun dropped lower, and Yunho suggested going for a walk. They packed up a few things and wandered down the beach until they stumbled on an empty volleyball court tucked close to the dunes.

“Let’s play a game,” San suggested, holding up the ball they’d bought. “Vesper versus Lost Signal.”

“That’s unfair,” Mingi complained instantly, pointing at Vesper. “You’ve got San! He’s insane.”

“Oh, so you’re chickening out?” Wooyoung teased.

There was no way out after that. They split into teams, sorted out the rotations, and began. The game itself turned messy fast, but it was fun. Hongjoong threw himself into it, even if he knew he couldn’t keep up with the others. His legs burned, and when their side managed a point, he celebrated hard.

They played until Vesper scored 15 points and continued their walk. Hongjoong hung toward the back, his eyes drawn inevitably to where Seonghwa was talking with Yunho. Not to him. When the sunset started, they stopped to take some pictures. Yeosang lifted his phone and called out to Seonghwa.

“Stand there, I’ll get some good ones of you.”

Seonghwa humored him and posed with his shirt unbuttoned and his silver hair catching the breeze. Hongjoong watched, and suddenly Seonghwa turned his head, met his eyes, and smiled.

“Come here,” he said. Hongjoong froze. The feeling of being ignored, then smiled as if nothing made him feel dizzy. His first instinct was to retreat, but then he forced himself forward. Just go, he told himself. Yeosang snapped a few shots of them together before Yunho’s voice interrupted them.

“Excuse me, could you take a picture of all of us?”

He was asking a stranger walking past, and they agreed easily. They posed in front of the ocean, first facing the camera. Then Seonghwa suggested that they turn to face the water, so their backs were facing the camera. When the stranger handed back the phone, they thanked them, and everyone crowded to see the picture. Hongjoong noticed that they really seemed like a big friend group now.

“I’m hungry,” Seonghwa told San.

“It’s late already. Do you guys want to grab dinner?” San asked the others, and they all agreed. “There’s this restaurant close to the rental place. We can drop the cars off first.” Then he turned to Seonghwa. “It’s the one with the smoking area.”

Seonghwa’s face lit up. They gathered their things and headed for the cars. Seonghwa figured out how to connect his phone and played his playlist while taking suggestions from Mingi and Yunho.

At a red light, Hongjoong glanced sideways. Seonghwa was turned toward the window, watching the streets, and Hongjoong let himself admire him until Seonghwa turned back suddenly, catching him in the act. He smiled, and Hongjoong’s ears burned hot. He smiled back before snapping his gaze forward again, gripping the wheel tighter as the light turned green.

Back at the rental place, they returned the cars and walked to the restaurant. Everyone looked worn out, but nobody seemed ready to go. They slid into a booth and ordered beers when the server came; everyone except Yeosang. They teased him, but he decided to order soda, saying that he was done drinking. They did small talk until the food came, and the conversation flowed more naturally once everyone was eating. When the plates were nearly empty, Jongho suggested ordering some snacks, but before the server came back, Seonghwa stood.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” he said, patting his pocket for his lighter.

“Go, go,” Wooyoung waved him off.

“I’ll come with you,” Hongjoong blurted before even thinking, making all eyes snap to them. Wooyoung made an exaggerated little “ooh,” and their friends teased them, but they just ignored it.

Outside, the air was cooler. The smoking area was just a narrow patio, but they could get a full view of the night sky. Seonghwa tapped a cigarette loose, then offered one. Hongjoong took it, and they lit up in a silence that felt intoxicating. Hongjoong wanted to ask what was wrong, if he’d done something, if the distance he’d felt all day was real or only in his head. But the words wouldn’t form.

“You’re quiet today,” Seonghwa said finally.

Hongjoong exhaled the smoke and glanced sideways. “Me? I’m the quiet one?”

It came out sharper than he meant, more like a complaint. He regretted it instantly and shook his head. “Sorry.” Seonghwa looked at him, surprised, and Hongjoong wanted nothing but to look away and escape that gaze.

Seonghwa dropped his eyes to the ground, like he was thinking, before saying softly, “If I made you feel bad somehow… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Hongjoong rushed out, leaning harder against the railing. “I’ve just been tense, I guess.”

Seonghwa studied him for another moment, then stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray. His voice was quieter when he spoke again.

“These four days… they’ve meant a lot to me. More than I thought they would. I don’t know how to express this, but…” He trailed off, searching for the words. “With all the stress from the shows, the rehearsals, the pressure from my family, I don’t know. Having you around was a relief.”

Hongjoong froze, feeling guilty. Maybe he’d been selfish, pushing too much onto Seonghwa when he was already carrying so much. He opened his mouth, and his words fumbled. “I’m sorry, I—”

But Seonghwa turned fully toward him, cutting him off. His eyes searched Hongjoong’s face, lingering on his lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question knocked the air out of him. Here we go again, he thought. But he wanted it. God, he needed it. Needed some proof Seonghwa still wanted him. So he nodded.

Seonghwa leaned in, pressing their lips together. He tasted like cigarettes and beer, and Hongjoong loved it. He kissed him back, letting himself melt into the warmth. They pulled apart after a few seconds, and Seonghwa laughed under his breath, almost embarrassed, fiddling with a new cigarette between his fingers as if he needed something to do with his hands. Hongjoong’s heart raced.

Eventually, they slipped back inside, sliding into the booth like nothing had happened. Their friends didn’t tease this time, too focused on their talk. They suggested making a group chat so they could keep in touch in Seoul, and planned to go out together once they were back. Hongjoong liked the idea; he really wanted to keep in contact with all of them.

The next morning, Hongjoong found himself at the hotel restaurant with Mingi, Yunho, and Jongho. Their manager had already taken care of everything for the return, so their luggage was waiting in the lobby, neatly lined up for pick-up. The four of them sat around a small table, poking at their plates of eggs and toast while scrolling on their phones. They decided to tell Vesper that they were leaving.

Yunho:
We’re heading to the airport now.

It didn’t take long for a reply.

Seonghwa:
Our flight leaves in a few hours
safe travels!

When they finished breakfast, Lost Signal rolled their bags across the lobby and climbed into the van. Hongjoong stopped for a moment, looking back at the city through the glass doors. Los Angeles had been exhausting, overwhelming, but it felt like they’d actually achieved something here. He had this hope that if the new album did well, maybe they’d be back sooner than expected.

The flight home was quiet since everyone was too drained to talk. Thankfully, before the trip even began, Yunho, Mingi, and he had agreed to ask for time off until the eighth, and when they finally landed, they allowed themselves the luxury of doing nothing but sleeping.

Almost immediately after, Hongjoong tried to slip back into his routine. He had errands to catch up on, and the small tasks kept him busy, giving him something to focus on other than stop and think. Because even now, days after they’d returned, Seonghwa hadn’t sent him a single personal message.

The group chat was still active, sure. They’d just finished spamming all the photos from the trip, everyone posting their favorites on Instagram, and swapping accounts. Seonghwa had messaged him privately once, asking for the pictures they’d taken the night they went out together, but that was it. Nothing beyond that.

Hongjoong kept telling himself Seonghwa might just be busy. He didn’t even know what Seonghwa’s daily life looked like; maybe he had a job, maybe he was still studying, or he was focused on the band. The truth was, he didn’t actually know much about him at all.

And yet here he was, waiting for a message like an idiot, irritated at his own impatience. He tried to push it down because the frustration wouldn’t change anything, and buried himself in his to-do list, ignoring the part of his brain that still wanted Seonghwa’s attention. Two weeks after they’d returned, Seonghwa finally texted him.

Seonghwa:
Sorry for disappearing
The last weeks of school have been killing me
but I have vacations now!

Hongjoong stared at the screen, considering ignoring it just to prove he wasn’t waiting. But he had been waiting for a long time. Maybe this was the opportunity to get to know Seonghwa more.

Hongjoong:
it’s okay
what do you study?

Seonghwa:
oh no, I already graduated
I’m an elementary teacher

That explained everything, no wonder he was busy. Hongjoong tried to picture Seonghwa in a classroom, surrounded by kids, and the irritation he’d been carrying started to disappear. It just fit him.

Hongjoong:
I should have expected it
it suits you a lot
don’t worry, I understand that you’re busy

Seonghwa:
Yeah..
it’s not personal, I swear
In between planning and resting, I just lose most of my days :(
I’ll try not to disappear again though

Hongjoong reassured him, and just like that, the conversation continued. Somehow that night they ended up texting until sunrise, about random topics. Hongjoong laughed at his screen until he realized it was nearly 6 a.m. and he hadn’t slept at all. They continued like that the whole week. They messaged almost every night, some days just short check-ins, sometimes hours-long conversations that left Hongjoong smiling like an idiot at his phone. He truly felt like a teenager texting at Seonghwa like this.

And again, Seonghwa stopped replying.

This time, it didn’t bother Hongjoong. He was busy too, meeting friends when he could, working on the album, and making edits to the songs the others suggested. He tried again to write since he felt like he had to be inspired now; a love song could work, even if he had to exaggerate the lyrics, like when he wrote after the amusement park. but still, nothing.

One particular Saturday night, Hongjoong and Mingi were enjoying the silence of the house. Jongho was out drinking with some old friends, and Yunho had gone to see his family. Mingi was on his computer working on a song with his headphones on, and Hongjoong was scrolling through his phone on the couch. He noticed that Wooyoung had uploaded some stories about a party and was about to tap past them, disinterested, until a video made him stop.

Seonghwa was sitting next to a guy Hongjoong didn’t recognize; he had brown hair brushing his chin, his arms covered in tattoos, and was undeniably attractive. The clip showed the two of them downing shots in sync, grimacing at the taste before bursting out laughing. Then Seonghwa leaned his head on the guy’s shoulder dramatically, pretending to faint. The video cut there onto the next story, and then the next. Hongjoong didn’t watch them. He dropped his phone onto his lap and sat there, staring at nothing.

Don’t start, he told himself. Don’t.

He understood that Seonghwa was busy and that he needed time for himself, but he looked really happy with that guy. Hongjoong wondered if he was being replaced this soon. Maybe he should’ve texted more, invited him somewhere, done something before it got to this, but if Seonghwa didn’t reach out either, what was he supposed to do?

“Hyung, can you listen to this real quick?” Mingi asked, turning his screen toward him.

Hongjoong looked at Mingi, but the knot in his chest made it impossible to focus. “I’m going to sleep,” he muttered, and it came out harsher than he meant.

He earned a look from Mingi, then he just shrugged and turned back to his work. Hongjoong felt guilty, but he was more annoyed, mostly at himself. He rubbed his face on the way to the bathroom, going through the motions of brushing his teeth and washing up before retreating to his room.

Fuck. He was jealous. Badly. And the worst part was he didn’t even know if he had the right to be. They weren’t anything official. He knew they should’ve talked about it before things got this messy, but they hadn’t. And now it felt like it was slipping out of his hands before he even knew what he wanted.

The next day was a slow Sunday, which made everything worse. Hongjoong tried to keep himself busy with chores, laundry, talking with his friends, anything to stop him from reaching for his phone, but there wasn’t much to do, and when there’s nothing to do, you start to think. Around twelve, his phone buzzed. He almost didn’t look, but he saw Seonghwa’s name on the screen.

Seonghwa:
Heyy
sorry again
we started working on a new song and we’re drained
Are you okay?

Hongjoong stared at the screen, weighing every option, before finally typing:

Hongjoong:
I’m fine

Seonghwa answered with a couple of small messages about how his week went, and that this song was Yeosang’s first work. He tried to ask about Hongjoong’s day, but he answered in short sentences. He knew he was being childish, but the ache in his chest made it impossible to say more.

Seonghwa:
Seriously, are you okay?
sorry again, I really was busy

Hongjoong:
You didn’t seem very busy

He didn’t think of it until he hit send, and immediately his stomach knotted. Seonghwa saw the message immediately, but he didn’t answer anything for a minute. Hongjoong was sure he had messed it up this time.

Seonghwa:
We should talk in person

Hongjoong felt scared. He remembered the guy in the video and how Seonghwa seemed really happy with him. Maybe this was it. Maybe Seonghwa was done and just waiting for the right excuse to end things, and Hongjoong had handed it to him.

Hongjoong:
There’s no need, it’s fine

His phone rang almost immediately, and Hongjoong considered ignoring it, but maybe it was time to face it. He accepted the call, and Seonghwa’s voice came a little sharper.

“Is this about yesterday’s party?”

Hongjoong’s hands trembled on the phone. He wanted to say something, but he truly had no right to be upset. Shit, if Seonghwa wanted to end things now, maybe it was for the better. Why would he want someone this insecure? When Seonghwa didn’t receive an answer, he spoke again.

“If you mean the guy in the video,” Seonghwa paused a moment, “that’s my friend. We’re in the same company. He’s another artist, and we went to celebrate with the band.”

Ok, now he felt stupid, truly stupid. Pathetic, even. It was his friend. He was being ridiculous now that he thought about it better; Seonghwa acted like that with his friends. The fact that Hongjoong wasn’t as affectionate as Seonghwa made him see things differently. He felt his lips tremble as he tried to find the words to apologize.

“I—,” before he could finish, he heard Seonghwa sigh in frustration.

“Believe what you want.”

The line went dead.

Hongjoong froze with the phone still pressed to his ear. His throat felt tight, and his heart was slamming like it wanted to claw its way out of his chest. Thank god everyone was in their rooms, because anyone who saw him would’ve known, would’ve seen the exact second his heart felt like it broke. He sank to the floor, letting his phone slip from his hand. The phone vibrated a second later. Then again, and again. Seonghwa was calling him and sending messages.

Seonghwa:
I’m sorry
I didn’t mean to say that
call me back?
please, don’t ignore me

Hongjoong saw the screen blink and show the messages, but he didn’t answer.

He felt stupid and a little proud of himself at the same time. Stupid because he’d let himself get hurt, knowing this would happen; proud because he thought he was protecting whatever fragile piece of himself had started to trust Seonghwa. Maybe Seonghwa had every right to be exasperated, and maybe Hongjoong had been childish and possessive and unreasonable. He didn’t know which part of him hurt more: the part that wanted to apologize immediately, or the part that wanted Seonghwa to come back begging.

He started to feel the tears, but a door creaked open in the hall, and he immediately grabbed his phone and ran to his room, locking the door. He told himself he needed a distraction, and his eyes fell on the Star Wars notebook on the bedside table. Someone had told him once that writing helped clear the head, so he sat on the bed, opened it, and the first page greeted him:

i love summer
i am loving this
and you and everything

He snorted at how corny it looked. He’d exaggerated that night, planning to use it as lyrics, but now it felt embarrassingly naive. He tore the page out and balled it up, then fished a pencil out from between the other pages and started to write.

He didn’t plan the words; they might not make sense tomorrow, but right now, they calmed him. He wrote about the small, stupid fantasies that had kept him afloat, about the way someone could be tender one minute and impossibly distant the next, and how humbling it felt to shrink when it happened. The sentences got meaner as he got tired. He cursed himself for feeling jealous over a party video and how he acted about it.

His hand cramped after a few pages, and he decided it was time to stop. He wrote at least four pages of incoherent words, but it made him feel better. He shut his phone without looking. He couldn’t tell if he was being cruel or reasonable. If he answered, would it fix anything? He curled up on the bed, exhausted in every sense. The notebook lay open beside him while his tears started to spill.

The worst part, he realized, was that none of this had really surprised him. He’d always known it could come to this, but still, that knowledge didn’t make it hurt any less.

The day at work passed in a blur, like he’d left his body on autopilot. He forced his best face on, spoke when he had to, and kept himself busy enough that nobody would ask him questions. He even came earlier because the thought of one of his friends seeing him like this made his stomach twist.

When he came back home, the first thing he noticed was Yunho at the dining table with his phone pressed to his ear. When he looked up and saw Hongjoong, he paused and lowered the phone.

“Hold on a second,” Yunho said into the call, then muted it. He squinted at Hongjoong. “Did you invite Seonghwa hyung over? He’s asking for our address and—” His sentence cut off when his eyes settled on Hongjoong’s face. Whatever expression he had made Yunho stop.

“Oh.”

He looked like he didn’t know if he should say something, then he unmuted the call. “Yeah, he’ll call you right now,” he told whoever was on the line, before hanging up.

The apartment went quiet after that. Yunho set his phone down, studying Hongjoong.

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hongjoong replied. Yunho leaned back, still watching him carefully, as if thinking how far he should push.

“Seonghwa hyung sounded worried and was asking if he could come.” He paused, and his voice was softer now. “You should talk to him.”

The last thing Hongjoong wanted was to drag his bandmates into this mess, especially now that they were all getting closer to Vesper. He forced a small nod.

“Thanks, I’ll handle it.”

He walked past Yunho without another word, carrying his bag down the hall until he reached his room. He shut the door behind him, dropped his things by the bed, and finally reached for his phone. The screen showed the calls and messages he’d been ignoring since yesterday. He hesitated, staring at Seonghwa’s name, then tapped call.

The line barely rang before Seonghwa answered, desperate.

“Joong, I’m so sorry—”

“We should end this.”

Chapter Text

A week had passed, and Hongjoong no longer knew what to do.

Every day blurred into the next, as if time itself had slowed just to mock him. He’d expected; no, he’d needed Seonghwa to fight for him, to tell him not to end things, to insist they talk in person instead. He knew himself well enough to admit that if Seonghwa had said that, he would’ve agreed, and they wouldn’t have reached this point. But Seonghwa only left him in silence long enough for Hongjoong to hear his own heartbeat before finally saying,

“If that’s what you want.”

Hongjoong had hung up, thrown his phone against the floor, and stared at it for an hour, hoping Seonghwa would apologize like he had the day before, but he didn’t. That same night, Hongjoong blocked Seonghwa’s number, only to decide the next morning it was better to just delete it entirely. It didn’t make much difference since both of them were still in the group chat with their bands, but deleting it gave him the illusion of control. At least the temptation was gone, and he wouldn’t have to see his name every time he made a call.

The first week was the hardest. On the fifth day, he came home from work, curled up on his bed, and stared at the ceiling, listening to his bandmates' muffled voices outside his door. He hated himself for it; he didn’t want to be the one dragging down the mood of the apartment, but he couldn’t stop.

The breaking point came when three knocks sounded on his door, followed by the slow creak of it opening. Mingi leaned in first, awkward as ever, followed by Jongho and Yunho.

“Hyung,” Mingi said carefully, like he was testing the air. “Come on. Let’s get out of here, let’s go for fried chicken or something.”

Hongjoong sat up slowly, his heart already pounding. He didn’t want their pity, or whatever this was.

“I don’t want to,” he replied, looking at them.

“Just for an hour,” Yunho stepped inside. “You don’t have to talk about it, we just don’t want you—”

“I said I don’t want to!” The words tore out louder than he intended, and his voice cracked on the last syllable. He could already feel the tears forming, but the look on their faces only made him angrier for some reason. “Just leave me the hell alone, all right? I don’t need this.”

The silence afterward was worse than anything.

“Do you think this is easy for us?” Mingi shot back, stepping forward with a look Hongjoong was sure he’d never seen before. “We’re trying to help you, so stop treating us like crap just because you’re miserable.”

Hongjoong almost jumped out of bed without thinking, and Yunho started, “Mingi—” But Jongho moved first, stepping up to the bed and gripping Hongjoong’s shoulders, holding him in place. For a split second, Hongjoong thought he was about to hit him, but instead, Jongho just looked him straight in the eye.

“Calm down,” he said.

Hongjoong’s eyes burned with shame. He wanted to apologize right then, but the words stuck in his throat.

“Let’s go,” Jongho murmured, guiding Mingi toward the door, who was muttering under his breath. Yunho stayed in the doorway with his arms crossed, just watching him.

“I knew this was going to happen,” he said calmly, then closed the door, leaving Hongjoong alone again.

He collapsed back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and this time he couldn’t hold the tears back. He was frustrated with them, with himself, with everything. But as the hours dragged on, it shifted into guilt. They hadn’t deserved it. They had only been trying to help for the past week, and he had turned his pain into a weapon, aiming it against the people who least deserved it.

By midnight, he couldn’t stand himself anymore. When he opened his door, he found the TV casting its glow over the living room, and his friends sprawled across the couch, scrolling on their phones. The second they noticed him, they shifted, like they weren’t sure what to expect.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong said quietly, his voice hoarse from crying. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” Jongho looked at him for a moment, then sighed.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, and Hongjoong nodded, then Jongho patted the spot beside him on the couch. Yunho gave him a small smile, but what hurt most was seeing Mingi’s red, swollen eyes. Hongjoong felt like the worst person alive. He knew how sensitive Mingi was, and still…

He sank into the cushions and rested his head on Mingi’s shoulder, catching him off guard.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No… I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry, hyung,” Mingi murmured, and they stayed like that until sleep took them both. For the first time all week, Hongjoong felt the faint relief of knowing he wasn’t completely alone.

After that night, he tried… just not in a healthy way. By burying himself in work so no thought could escape him. He drove to his studio and spent long hours there working on the demos they already had. He didn’t write anything new, not because he didn’t want to, but because he felt empty. It didn’t make much sense; when people went through a breakup, they usually had so much to say, but Hongjoong didn’t. Then he remembered that their “relationship” had never been like a normal one, so…

When they were called for a meeting with the label, none of them expected to be greeted by the staff smiling at them, congratulating them on their jump in popularity after the festival. They showed them how the streams had increased, and how their name was being mentioned in international forums more than ever. Hongjoong sat straighter, feeling proud; everything they’d worked so hard for was finally showing results. But then, their manager spoke.

“Everyone’s been asking about the song you performed on the third day, during the exchange with Vesper,” he said.

It felt like a punch to the gut. Hongjoong tried to force his mind blank, but his memory betrayed him, showing Seonghwa singing to him across the stage. He lowered his gaze, trying to stay composed while everyone turned to Mingi and congratulated him. That’s when Hongjoong was reminded that this wasn’t about him. This was Mingi’s song. His pain, his effort, he deserved to celebrate it. Hongjoong forced himself to breathe.

“See?” Hongjoong said after a moment, nudging Mingi with a faint smile. “And you didn’t even want to release it.”

Mingi got all red, and they laughed.

They agreed Mingi’s song would be the one they’d promote, so they made small adjustments, recorded it, and rushed into preparing the music video. It was all happening really fast, but it was better for Hongjoong. Better to keep moving, better to stay busy, anything was better than being still long enough to think.

The day before shooting, Mingi appeared in the doorway of the living room, looking nervous.

“Hyung,” he said suddenly. “Can you dye my hair?”

Hongjoong looked up from his laptop, and blinked. “What?”

“I want to bleach it and cut it short,” Mingi said, scratching the back of his neck. “I was thinking… I don’t know, I need a change.”

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “And you want me to do it instead of going to a salon?”

“Come on, you’ve been doing yours for years. You’re practically a pro. Besides…” Mingi hesitated, then smiled. “We’ll get to spend time together.”

Hongjoong had the suspicion that Mingi just wanted to cheer him up in a more subtle way, and it made him feel a little bad. But he reminded himself: this was his friend. It was fine.

“Fine,” Hongjoong sighed, closing his laptop. “Before you regret it.”

They headed out in the car, and after parking near the shops, they picked up bleach, toner, dye, gloves, and a decent pair of scissors. Mingi insisted on stopping by the corner store for snacks and drinks, and then, saying he was hungry, invited Hongjoong to a café. Each stop stretched the trip out longer, and Hongjoong began to suspect this was Mingi’s plan all along. Strangely, he didn’t mind. For the first time in weeks, he was out, and he realized he was enjoying it.

They turned a corner and passed a tattoo studio that caught Hongjoong’s attention. He had seen recommendations for the place online, and he’d been thinking about getting a tattoo for a long time. He even had a design planned, but he was still uncertain about the idea of something permanent on his skin.

“Would you get one?” Mingi asked, catching the look on his face.

“Yeah, maybe,” Hongjoong replied.

“You should. It’d look good on you.”

“Do you think so?” Hongjoong asked, and Mingi nodded. “What about you?”

“I’ll have to think about it,” he laughed.

When they returned to the apartment, Mingi spread everything out on the dining table and studied it for a moment.

“So,” he said, pulling up a couple of reference photos on his phone. “I was thinking something short, like really short.”

Hongjoong leaned over to look and was surprised. The cuts Mingi showed him were far shorter than his current style. He’d look like a completely different person, but Hongjoong could see it working.

“That’s bold,” he said. “But it’ll look good on you.”

Before he could study the pictures further, a message flashed across the screen, and Mingi immediately locked the phone, but Hongjoong caught a glimpse of the sender’s name: Wooyoung. The name wasn’t what startled him; it was his reaction. Mingi never hid his phone like that.

“You don’t have to do that,” Hongjoong said after a moment.

Mingi froze. “Do what?”

“That.” Hongjoong gestured at the phone. “Hiding the messages, or acting like I’m going to be upset. I know you guys still talk to Vesper. Of course you do, they’re our friends. What happened with me and Seonghwa…” His voice cracked at the name, but he forced it out. “…that’s between him and me. Not you guys.”

Mingi shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking down to the table like he was being scolded.

“I mean it,” Hongjoong went on. “Don’t cut them off because of me, and don’t tiptoe around me either. I care about those guys too, and I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be their friend. It’s fine.”

They were silent for a moment until Mingi nodded.

“Okay,” he said softly.

“Good,” Hongjoong smiled at him, though he felt guilty. The fact that Mingi felt like he couldn’t be honest around him made him feel worse. This whole thing was hurting the wrong people. They didn’t bring it up again; instead, they spread an old towel across the bathroom floor and got to work.

It took hours of cutting, bleaching, toning, and then dyeing, with breaks in between, but Hongjoong found himself oddly absorbed in the process. He was too focused on not screwing up Mingi’s hair to think about anything else. When he started to apply the dye, Mingi leaned back with his eyes closed.

“Don’t move,” Hongjoong muttered, brushing through his hair.

“Hyung,” Mingi said, opening his eyes to look at him.

Hongjoong glanced down. “What?”

“Thank you.”

For a moment, Hongjoong was caught off guard. Then he smiled faintly. “Stay still.”

By the time they finished, the sun had already gone down. Mingi stared at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his newly dyed pink hair. Hongjoong had no idea how he pulled it off, but he did. When Mingi stepped into the living room, the others immediately turned their heads.

“Whoa,” Yunho said, whistling. “You look like you just joined Vesper.”

“Yunho,” Jongho muttered when he noticed Hongjoong. He felt all their eyes flick toward him and sighed, dragging a hand through his own hair.

“I already told Mingi this, but I’ll say it again,” Hongjoong said, looking at them. “Whatever happened between me and Seonghwa has nothing to do with you guys. I don’t want you cutting off Vesper because of me. And I don’t want you to stop talking to him either. I get it, okay?”

They all looked like they weren’t sure what to say, but no one argued.

“Okay,” Yunho finally said.

Hongjoong nodded once, feeling a bit of relief. He knew they’d been walking on eggshells around him, avoiding the subject like it might crack him open. And maybe it would, but it wasn’t fair to let them carry that weight.

He knew, in the small rational part of his head, that the way he’d been avoiding everything would cost him. Avoidance didn’t make the ache go away; it simply hides it until some random day it all comes crashing down.

That day for Hongjoong was a random Thursday. He lay half-awake on his mattress after a hard day at work, scrolling on his phone, when the screen showed a face he had sworn he’d erased. He almost didn’t recognize him at first, since it looked like he’d dyed his hair from silver to black, but still had long hair. Hongjoong took his time to study his face, before coming to the fact that yes, he was seeing Seonghwa. He wondered why he was seeing him if he made sure to remove him, but he saw San’s comment on the video, and he realized that the universe had a petty sense of humor. Still, he couldn’t fight the curiosity and tapped it.

It started with Seonghwa setting down the video while smiling, and seeing him this close made his heart ache. He noticed that his eyes now had black circles under them, and that the background was the same hotel room from L.A., or at least it matched the memory of it, so they’re back again. Seonghwa sat down and tuned his guitar, then began to sing.

Can you hear me cry out to you?
Words I thought I’d choke on figure out,

The sound of his voice hit Hongjoong like a physical thing. Part of him wanted to slam the phone down and run; another part wanted to keep listening to his voice all night long. He felt angry first, though he didn’t know exactly why. Maybe because after all of this, hearing his voice again felt so good. Seonghwa kept going.

I’m really not so with you anymore
I’m just a ghost
So I can’t hurt you anymore
So I can’t hurt you anymore…

He didn’t recognize the lyrics; it wasn’t a Vesper song, and the post didn’t say it was a cover. That meant it was something Seonghwa had written, which made everything worse somehow. The clip ended as Seonghwa did the last note with his guitar, reached up, and turned the phone off. Just thirty seconds. Hongjoong didn’t know how many times he watched it; the number blurred after ten. Each repeat undid him a little more, until he sat on the bed with his knees pulled up, and his fingers trembling.

Curiosity got the best of him, and he decided to tap Seonghwa’s profile. The first thing he noticed was that the photos from the amusement park were still there. He hadn’t looked at them in months, but if he saw them now, he’d probably cry. After that post, there was the L.A. photo dump and finally the video he just saw. Hongjoong noticed that it was the only video Seonghwa had ever uploaded as an actual post. Seonghwa seemed like the type of person to meticulously plan his aesthetic, and that video broke the pattern of his feed.

Hongjoong tapped on the L.A. post, realizing he’d never studied it carefully. Most of the pictures were of Vesper performing, the group together, a few cityscapes. And the photos he remembered too well; the photos he had taken of Seonghwa when they spent the day exploring, the selfie they took together, and, last of all, the picture of them together at the beach.

He wondered why Seonghwa hadn’t deleted them. Surely it must hurt him too… Or maybe it didn’t.

He opened the comments, and most of them were from Vesper members, some fans praising the set, and other people he didn’t recognize. He was about to exit when one caught his eye: “matz!” And others replied with the same word, some of them confused.

Hongjoong stared at the word in shock, then let out an unexpected laugh; he had forgotten that stupid nickname. It was ridiculous, really, but the more he laughed, the more his eyes burned. He didn’t even notice when the first tears fell, or when they kept coming, until he was sobbing.

Fuck, he missed Seonghwa. He missed whatever it was they had; Seonghwa had said just friends, probably to mask that it was only casual sex, but nothing about them had ever felt casual. From the first day together, Hongjoong knew it was different, and they should’ve talked about it. If Seonghwa had only wanted him for the sex, maybe he would’ve taken it, to stay close. But it hadn’t been like that, and losing what they had been worse.

His gaze drifted to the Star Wars notebook on his nightstand; he had thought about throwing it away, but never could. After his last outburst, he had been too embarrassed to reread anything he’d scribbled, so he ignored it, but maybe now was the time. Maybe putting something on paper would help.

He picked it up and flipped through, scanning the mess of thoughts he had written. He slowly began to accommodate his ideas, and the lyrics turned out to be a way to let out his frustration about their strange, undefined relationship. Those rambling words from before gave him somewhere to start, and he wrote for at least two hours, crying on and off, until he felt exhausted and set the notebook aside.

When he was finally ready to rest after letting out some of his frustration, he began to remember. It was easy to admit that Seonghwa had hurt him, but it was harder to admit that part of it was his own fault. What if they had actually talked? What if he had pressed Seonghwa to explain what ‘it means what it means’ really meant instead of letting him stay vague? He remembered that Fourth of July night so vividly: the glow of fireworks on Seonghwa’s face, the way it felt like something else entirely. It made his heart ache. They lasted like two months, and the ghost of it haunted him more than entire past relationships. He couldn’t stop wondering what they might have been.

He couldn’t sleep and, with a sigh, Hongjoong reached for the notebook again. This time, the lyrics felt softer in a way, more emotional. He lost track of time until the sunlight began to spill through the curtains, and he cursed under his breath since he had to be at work in only a few hours.

For the next week, Hongjoong worked on those two tracks. He completely focused on polishing and producing them, even asking his colleagues for advice, which he rarely did. Somehow, he finished both in a matter of days. He didn’t know how he managed it, except that maybe wanting to keep his mind occupied really did wonders. Some nights, he fell asleep on the studio couch, only waking up when one of his friends called to check on him.

When the demos were ready, he took them to his manager. He handed over the USB, feeling suddenly nervous.

“What’s this?” his manager asked, holding up the drive.

“I know we only planned for ten tracks,” Hongjoong said quickly. “But these are two more that I think should be on the album.”

His manager frowned. “Hongjoong, we’ve already settled on the tracklist. Adding songs at the last minute is risky, you know that.”

“I know,” Hongjoong admitted, tightening his jaw. “But I really believe in these. Please, just listen. Trust me on this.”

The silence stretched, and his manager looked at him for a long moment. Finally, he sighed, took the USB, and tucked it into his pocket.

“Alright, I’ll talk to the higher-ups. No promises.”

Hongjoong nodded, holding back the rush of relief until he was outside. Later that day, his phone buzzed.

Manager:
We can add them

Hongjoong’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately replied.

Hongjoong:
Thank you, hyung

Manager:
Don’t thank me yet
Tell the boys to come in tomorrow
We’re on a tight schedule now

Hongjoong didn’t care about the stress. He practically ran home to give them the news, but when he told them, Jongho looked like he might strangle him.

“Hyung,” he groaned. “You told us we’d finally get a break before the shows. I was already pacing myself, taking care of my voice, and now—” He stopped, looked at Hongjoong, and exhaled hard, shaking his head. “Never mind. Do you have the lyrics?”

Hongjoong handed them over, feeling suddenly exposed as the others leaned in to read. He now realized that the songs could be a bit personal. None of them knew the details of what had happened with Seonghwa, and Hongjoong had no intention of spelling it out, but his lyrics could give them an idea. Still, no one said anything and didn’t ask. They just nodded and told him they were good.

The next two days were spent recording until late at night, with Jongho always being the first to arrive, and the others coming after work. Hongjoong got to be more involved in the process this time, which made him happy since he already had a clear vision for both songs. After some brainstorming, they settled on calling the songs Bang the Doldrums and Fourth of July. The latter was easy, but for the first one, he’d originally wanted The Summer of Like, but they said it didn’t fit much. When they finally wrapped, he clapped Jongho on the shoulder.

“I owe you. Let me buy you something to say thanks,” he said.

Jongho seemed to think for a second before saying, “You’re paying for dinner tonight.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes but agreed, and they ended the night at a small spot near the studio, grilling thick slices of pork belly with all the sides and celebrating with soju.

Two weeks later, the album officially dropped, with a total of twelve tracks.

1. Thriller
   02. “The Take Over, The Breaks Over”
   03. This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race
   04. I’m Like A Lawyer With The Way I’m Always Trying To Get Off You
   05. Hum Hallelujah
   06. Golden
   07. Thnks fr th Mmrs
   08. Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am?
   09. Bang The Doldrums
   10. Fame < Infamy
   11. Fourth of July
   12. I’ve Got All This Ringing In My Ears And None On My Fingers

They gathered around one copy in the practice room, and Jongho turned it over in his hands before passing it around. When Yunho got a look at the tracklist, he laughed.

“Wow, we really don’t know how to name songs, do we?” That made everyone crack up, even Hongjoong, who suggested most of the names.

“Hey, they’re iconic!” Mingi said, and Yunho shook his head, laughing. They all kept looking down at the CD like it was the most precious thing they had ever seen. It was the result of their hard work, and they felt really proud of it.

The weeks of promotion passed really fast; they moved from one show to the next, fitting in interviews, performances, and photoshoots. During interviews, they were asked about Vesper more often than not, about how they had become friends and what it meant for both bands to be so close. Since Hongjoong usually ended up being the one who answered most questions, he couldn’t even remember how he managed to get the words out without his voice breaking. The first few times, Yunho had stepped in and handled it for him, giving Hongjoong a chance to breathe.

Aside from that, they were doing great. Of course, they weren’t recognized on the scale of K-pop groups, but the response was better than any of them had dared to expect. The sales, especially international ones, surprised them the most.

One night, he was surprised to see a message on the group chat with Vesper.

Wooyoung:
Congrats on the release, you guys

San:
The album is really good

Hongjoong:
thanks

Unknown number:
I really liked it

The last two messages were sent almost at the same time, making Hongjoong freeze. The messages stopped for a moment until Yeosang broke the silence.

Yeosang:
When’s your first show?

Jongho:
In a week

Yeosang:
Damn
We won’t make it to the first one
What about the second?

They continued talking, but Hongjoong stopped reading after that. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, telling himself he’d ask the boys later what else had been said.

During promotions, they only performed Thnks fr th Mmrs and This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race, so when rehearsals began, it felt strange to play his two songs. Each time they ran through them, Hongjoong felt too aware of his own lyrics, almost like everyone could see through him. Before practice, a staff member pulled him aside to explain that since the last songs had been added late, they’d have to split them: one on the first show, the other on the second. Hongjoong nodded and made a quick decision: Bang the Doldrums would be the first, then Fourth of July.

He was so focused on rehearsal that he didn’t notice the missed calls from his mom until hours later. His stomach dropped when he saw the screen since he hadn’t spoken to her in a while, and the panic made him call back immediately.

“Joong-ah, is everything okay?” his mom answered, laughing when she heard Hongjoong’s nervous response. “Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to tell you that your dad, your brother, and I want to come see your first show. Could we?”

Hongjoong was surprised. “Why are you asking like you need permission?”

“I don’t know,” she said, a little nervous. “I just wanted to make sure it’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is,” he said quickly. “I’d like that.”

They said goodbye, his mom ending with a soft, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Hongjoong replied, smiling despite the heaviness in his chest. When he hung up, he sat there for a while, realizing how long it had really been since he’d last talked to his mom.

The day of the first show came faster than Hongjoong could process. In between rehearsals and trying to clear his workload, he barely noticed the time slipping away until suddenly it was here. The four of them felt even more nervous than the first day at the festival.

Their manager drove them through Seoul’s narrow streets to the venue. It wasn’t massive, but a well-known club that regularly hosted alt bands. The place fit about three thousand, each with a seat, and it felt like the right size for Lost Signal. Their manager had told them the tickets had sold out so quickly that the venue had added a second show. That part still surprised Hongjoong.

“Sold out…” Yunho muttered, staring out the window. “Can you believe that? People actually paid to hear us scream in their faces.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jongho replied. “I sing like an angel.”

Mingi gave him a side eye, and they all laughed, but Hongjoong still felt tense. He tugged on his black hoodie, which was hiding his stage fit underneath. His outfit had a short-skirt hybrid piece that felt risky, but he’d decided to go for it. If there was ever a night to own it, it was tonight. He faintly remembered Seonghwa saying that he looked good in that type of skirt.

When they arrived, some small groups of fans were already waiting outside, and Hongjoong noticed a few holding homemade banners. His stomach flipped when he realized they were there for them. It was different from the festival, since they had a more diverse audience.

Inside the venue, it smelled like beer and dust. The staff waved them toward the back, where their dressing room was, and the four of them dumped their bags and instruments, then headed out for soundcheck.

The stage looked small under the glaring lights but standing there with his bass slung across his chest, Hongjoong felt taller. They ran through the opening of Thriller twice since it didn’t feel right; it was their first time in a closed venue, so it made sense.

“Alright,” the sound tech called out. “One more time from the top, then you’re good.”

Hongjoong played the riff again, trying his best to calm his heart. The sound echoed cleanly across the empty floor, and he imagined it filled with people, making him feel more nervous.

After soundcheck, they went backstage again to prepare themselves. They dressed quietly, each of them focused on their own thing; Mingi was looking at himself in the mirror, Jongho was practicing his vocals, and Yunho sat bouncing his knee, tapping a rhythm on his thigh with his sticks.

“Are you guys nervous?” Mingi asked when he sat back.

“Nope,” Jongho said flatly, though his frown betrayed him.

“Liar,” Hongjoong told him, and Jongho looked at him with a look that made him laugh.

The manager poked his head in. “Ten minutes, be ready.”

Those ten minutes felt like an eternity, and when the stage crew finally waved them out, Hongjoong’s palms were slick with sweat. The roar of the crowd hit them as soon as they stepped into the side corridor, and seeing all those people, it felt huge.

“Okay,” Hongjoong said, looking at them. “We good?”

“Yes, captain,” They all said in unison, and Hongjoong laughed, gripping his bass tighter.

When they walked out, the crowd erupted, surprising them. The stage lights blinded Hongjoong for a moment, but when he adjusted, he could see the packed floor; their faces, hands, phones lifted. They were really here.

Jongho stepped up to the mic. “Seoul!” he shouted, his voice filled with adrenaline, and the crowd screamed back.

The instrumental started, and Hongjoong leaned into his mic to do the intro, trying to keep his voice steady even though his stomach flipped:

“Yeah, what you critics said would never happen,” He tried to keep his voice steady. “We dedicate this album to anybody people said couldn’t make it. To the fans that held us down ’til everybody came around.”

He stopped for a second, looked at the crowd, and smiled. “Welcome. It’s here.”

They started with Thriller with Yunho pounding the drums, Mingi’s guitar, and Hongjoong’s bass. Then Jongho started singing, and the audience followed the song. For the first few minutes, all Hongjoong could think was: This is real. We’re actually doing this.

The setlist rolled out in the same order as the album since they wanted to promote it completely, but they’d added a couple of Lost Signal’s most popular songs. Hongjoong noticed quickly which song lit the place up the most. When the opening chords of This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race started, the crowd started singing even before Jongho sang the first line. Probably because it was the other track they promoted, but still, the way people jumped and clapped along felt unreal.

Yunho leaned into his mic for the bridge, “All the boys who the dance floor didn’t love, and all the girls whose lips couldn’t move fast enough.” He screamed, then paused for a second, and smiled.

“Sing, until your lungs give out.”

And the crowd did. The entire room started to chant “This ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race,” and they screamed with so much force that the stage itself seemed to vibrate. The four of them exchanged a look, surprised, then smiled widely.

Hongjoong’s heart clenched as he scanned the sea of lights and faces, and for a second, he thought he wouldn’t spot them. But then he saw his parents in the seats he’d reserved for them, and his older brother between them, he felt relieved. Both of them were clapping along, and his older brother waved at him. Hongjoong smiled back before snapping his gaze down to his bass again, feeling more energy.

The set moved into calmer songs, giving them all a chance to breathe. And while they were playing, Hongjoong realized something that made his stomach twist. Almost every lyric, whether it was his or not, felt tied to Seonghwa. Those songs weren’t even written about him; most of them came almost finished, and others were his friends’ experiences. But during the weeks Hongjoong had spent obsessively editing them, he’d probably added some parts that related to him. And now that they were playing them live, it was impossible not to notice how much of Seonghwa lived in them.

After Golden, Jongho took a moment to hype the crowd before they continued with Thnks fr th Mmrs. When they hit the infamous line “He tastes like you, only sweeter,” the crowd completely lost it, screaming it so loud they couldn’t hear the track.

Hongjoong thought about how that line had haunted Mingi for weeks, since his ex had said it about the guy she cheated with. But hearing thousands of people shout it back surely felt like something different, like he reclaimed it. During the second verse, Hongjoong walked over to Mingi, and they locked eyes as they played. For a second, it was just the two of them, their instruments almost touching as they leaned in, grinning. Their fans shrieked at the sight, and Hongjoong’s smile widened as he tried to pour every ounce of pride he felt for Mingi into that look. Mingi grinned wider in return before Hongjoong finally pulled back.

They followed with Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am?, which was a song they wrote together following a bit of the pirate theme they had going on. They had fun performing it, but when they finished it, Hongjoong felt nervous again. Bang the Doldrums was next.

He gripped his bass tighter, feeling the cool metal under his fingers, the weight grounding him as the intro riff pulsed through the monitors. They all gave him a comforting look before starting to play. Yunho’s sticks twirled over his drums, counting them in, and then Jongho started singing.

I wrote a goodbye note
In lipstick on your arm when you passed out
I couldn′t bring myself to call
Except to call it quits

When they were rehearsing, Jongho had asked how he should sing this song. Hongjoong told him to go with whatever he felt from the lyrics, and Jongho described it as a mix of frustration and hope; frustrated with the person, yet still hoping they’d return to the way they used to be. Hongjoong had paused, looked at him for a moment, and said that yeah, he could sing it like that, whatever it meant. Now, on stage, he was pulling it off perfectly.

Best friends
Ex-friends till the end
Better off as lovers
And not the other way around

He wondered what it would’ve been like if Seonghwa had asked him to keep things as friends, and he realized that it wouldn’t have worked. From the very first moment they met, it had been different in a way that friendship alone could never contain. The idea of stepping back felt impossible. Shaking the thought away, he kept his focus on Jongho as their voices blended into the chorus.

You’re wrong
Are we all wrong?
You’re wrong
Are we all wrong?

By the time they reached the next chorus, Hongjoong was already halfway lost in thought. He couldn’t stop picturing Seonghwa somewhere across the world, and a part of him ached to know if he heard this song and realized it was meant for him. Or if he’d even care. His throat tightened, and a sting of tears formed in his eyes, catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, forcing his focus back to the stage.

The tombstones were waiting
They were half-engraved
They knew it was over
Just didn’t know the date

He sang the bridge alongside Jongho. It was his favorite part of the song, since he poured the most sentimental pieces of himself. As the words left his mouth, he felt his voice crack and a tear slip down before he could stop it. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jongho glancing at him, then continued singing. Hongjoong forced himself to continue, but hated that he couldn’t hold back a few tears just as the next line came.

And I cast a spell over the west to make you think of me
The same way I think of you
This is a love song in my own way

When Jongho sang the chorus again, he blinked rapidly, fighting to compose himself. The audience really liked the song, and Hongjoong focused on that, letting the bass pulse harder.

By the final lines, Hongjoong exhaled fully while looking at the audience, then his family, and at his bandmates who had carried him through the set with their energy and smiles. The tears were gone now, replaced with a strange mix of relief and longing. The song ended, and the crowd screamed. Hongjoong gave a short nod to the audience, letting them know they had given everything, and thanking them for appreciating his song. Jongho slapped him on the back as the next song came.

They closed the night with the last track on the album, and the final chorus was a favorite of Hongjoong. Each of them played with everything they had left in them, while Jongho hit the last note with an intensity that gave Hongjoong chills.

When the song ended, there was a moment of silence before the room erupted into applause. The sound washed over them; it was overwhelming. Hongjoong felt like he could finally breathe for the first time that night. They gathered at the front of the stage, and each of them took turns thanking the crowd, then bowed.

Finally, with one last goodbye, they waved and walked offstage. There was a moment where no one spoke, then they pulled each other into a tight group hug. Their dreams were becoming a reality. They separated to walk to the green room, and the moment they were inside, the four of them collapsed on the couch and floor like they’d just run a marathon. Mingi grabbed the nearest water bottle and downed it in seconds.

“Holy shit,” he said, dropping the empty bottle on his chest. “Did you hear them? They were louder than Yunho’s snare.”

Yunho flicked a towel at him. “My snare was perfectly balanced, shut up.”

Jongho sank into the cushions, closing his eyes, and Hongjoong dropped beside him, still in shock. He leaned back, starting to feel sleepy, when the door swung open.

“Joong-ah!” his mom’s voice called as she stepped inside, immediately pulling him upright. His dad and brother followed close behind, and right after came Mingi’s mom and Yunho’s parents, carrying small gift bags in their hands.

“Congrats, you guys,” Mingi’s mom said, holding out a neatly wrapped package. “I’m so proud of you.” Mingi didn’t waste a second, rushing into her arms with a big smile.

Yunho’s mon gave his son a clap on the shoulder. “You did really well tonight,” he said, and Yunho gave him a shy smile, then hugged them both.  

Hongjoong turned back to his own family when his mom pressed a small bag into his hands, which contained clothes, of course. His mother always loved to gift him clothes for some reason, but Hongjoong appreciated it a lot.

They chatted for a while, but from the corner of his eye, he noticed Jongho standing off to the side, not really joining in. Jongho had told them before how his parents didn’t support his music career, saying that he should focus on law school. He was about to call Jongho over when Mingi moved first.

“Hey, come on,” Mingi said, throwing an arm around Jongho’s shoulders and pulling him toward his mom. She greeted Jongho with a hug, and Hongjoong let out a small sigh of relief, grateful.

The conversations stretched on, until they had to leave before it started getting too late. His father and brother hugged him before heading out first, but his mom stayed. She stepped closer, studying him with a look only mothers seemed to have.

“You were crying on stage, weren’t you?” she asked softly. “Is everything okay?”

The question startled him. He hadn’t thought anyone would notice from that far away, and he was sure he’d masked it well under the lights. She studied his face for a moment, placing a hand on his cheek.

“You looked so sad,” she murmured, pulling him into a gentle hug before he could answer. “Whatever’s on your mind, you can tell me. You can always call, you know.”

Hongjoong felt the urge to cry again. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this, her arms, her voice, his mom. He rested his head against her shoulder, letting himself sink into the comfort he hadn’t realized he was starving for.

“I… yeah, I’m okay,” he whispered. “I’ll call more, I promise.”

She squeezed him once more before pulling back, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I love you, Joong-ah.”

“I love you too, mom,” he said, smiling softly.

They stayed a little longer, exchanging a few words with Mingi’s mom and Yunho’s parents before they had to leave.

They were so exhausted after the first show that Hongjoong couldn’t even remember how they got back to the apartment. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, completely drained. The next day was usually meant for the second show, but for scheduling reasons there was a day off in between, which gave them a chance to rest.

Hongjoong thought it was a good idea to work on something, but when Yunho arrived and told them that he wanted to go for a drink, Hongjoong agreed without hesitation. He rarely went out like this, but he genuinely felt like he needed it. Usually, he ended up standing outside, smoking quietly, not interacting much, so it didn’t wear him out. And that was exactly the plan.

Hongjoong drove them to a bar they sometimes went to, they found some seats at the bar, ordered their drinks, and started talking about random things, mostly about the show and how surreal it all still felt. After a while, Yunho nudged him lightly.

“There’s a guy staring at you,” he said.

Hongjoong frowned, lifting his glass. “What?”

Yunho tilted his chin toward the far end of the bar, and Hongjoong followed the gesture, spotting him immediately: a guy with black hair, a white shirt, and fitted jeans. He was a bit taller than Seonghwa, and had a beautiful smile. The guy watched him quietly while sipping his own drink, occasionally speaking with his friends, then returning his attention back to Hongjoong.

“He’s cute,” Yunho muttered. “Go talk to him.”

Hongjoong shook his head quickly. “I’ll pass.”

Yunho gave him a look, but Hongjoong ignored it, and focused back on his drink. Later, when Yunho and the others became more social, too much for Hongjoong’s mood, he went outside for a smoke. He lit his cigarette and leaned against the wall, watching the smoke curl upward, then looked around to see if the guy might be out there, but the alley was empty. Halfway through his cigarette, though, he spotted him. The guy stepped out, catching Hongjoong’s eye almost instantly. He smiled and gave a small wave.

“Hey.”

Hongjoong straightened slightly. “Hey.”

The guy came closer. “I’m Jihoon.”

“Hongjoong,” he replied, taking another drag before offering the pack. “Want one?”

Jihoon shook his head. “No, I don’t smoke. But thanks.”

There was something about the way he smiled, and Hongjoong found himself smiling back.

“You come here often?” Jihoon asked, leaning against the wall beside him.

“Not really, just sometimes with my friends,” Hongjoong said, flicking the ash to the side.

Jihoon tilted his head, studying him. “You don’t look like the type that enjoys this kind of place.”

Hongjoong chuckled; Seonghwa had told him the same thing. “Guess I don’t. But it’s nice to get out once in a while.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon said softly, looking at him. “You’ve got this mysterious vibe, it makes me curious.”

Hongjoong looked at him and raised an eyebrow.  “Mysterious, huh?”

Jihoon’s smile widened. “Yeah. In a good way.”

They noticed more people coming out of the bar, and glancing at them, so Jihoon motioned toward the street outside.

“Hey… want to go for a walk? It’s a little quieter out there.”

“Sure,” Hongjoong replied.

As they walked, they started talking more casually about their lives, work, and interests. Hongjoong learned that Jihoon was studying medicine and was a year younger than him. There was something refreshing about how Jihoon expressed himself, and he seemed genuinely interested in everything Hongjoong said.

They drifted into the quieter streets, leaving the noise of the bar behind. The air was cooler here, and as they walked, Hongjoong caught the way Jihoon’s gaze lingered on him now and then. His eyes were a soft, light brown, almost golden under the lamplight, and Hongjoong found them beautiful, but his mind refused to let go of some wide, dark eyes that had once held him so completely. Hongjoong swallowed, forcing the thought aside, and tried to focus on Jihoon.

After a few minutes, they ended up in a more secluded spot and sat down on a bench to keep talking. Jihoon paused mid-conversation, and his gaze flicked to Hongjoong’s lips, then back up, making clear what he wanted. Hongjoong swallowed, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if maybe this was what he needed; something new and different, to finally loosen Seonghwa’s hold on him.

“Can I kiss you?” Hongjoong asked, the alcohol giving him more confidence.  

Jihoon smiled softly. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

He leaned down just enough so Hongjoong could meet his lips. The first kiss was tentative and sweet, soft and careful, but as the alcohol eased the tension, the kiss deepened. Jihoon touched Hongjoong’s arm, steadying him as they broke apart.

“My place isn’t far,” he said, still holding his arm gently. “Do you want to come?”

Hongjoong nodded. “Yeah.”

Jihoon’s apartment wasn’t far, it was in a zone Hongjoong actually knew. As they started walking, Hongjoong slipped his phone out and quickly typed a message into the group chat, letting the others know where he was before sliding it back into his pocket. He tried to focus on Jihoon beside him while chatting,

They hadn’t gone far when Jihoon said something that made Hongjoong laugh and the sound was still fading from his lips when a voice cut through.

“Hongjoong.”

A hand caught his arm from behind, making him turn, but he moment his eyes landed, his body froze. The air seemed to vanish. For a second, he didn’t recognize him since the black hair threw him off, but there was no mistaking it. It was Seonghwa. Dressed head-to-toe in black, and his chest heaving as if he’d sprinted there.

The shock paralyzed Hongjoong. It felt like an eternity, as if everything else around them had disappeared and it was only the two of them. Then he saw Seonghwa’s gaze shift to Jihoon, frown, and open his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He let go of Hongjoong’s arm, and his voice cracked as he spoke.

“I… sorry. I didn’t know. Sorry.”

He stayed there for a second, looking at Hongjoong as if expecting something, but Hongjoong was frozen in place, unable to respond. Then, Seonghwa smiled faintly, apologized again and turned to leave, disappearing into the crowd before Hongjoong could process anything. It wasn’t until Jihoon spoke that he was pulled back to reality.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worried.

“…Yeah… yeah, sorry,” he said automatically, with a shaky voice. He followed when Jihoon moved, but each step felt mechanical, like his body was on autopilot. Hongjoong had no idea how much time had passed, since he lost notion of everything, but at some point Jihoon stopped.

“I don’t know what just happened,” he said, glancing at Hongjoong. “But if you want, we can head back. You don’t have to feel obligated.”

Hongjoong took a deep breath, and he suddenly felt guilty, “No, I don’t feel obligated. It’s just…” He quickly realized that there wasn’t a way to explain it and sighed. “Sorry. I made you waste your time.”

Jihoon gave a small understanding nod, and they walked back in awkward silence, but Hongjoong couldn’t stop scanning the streets, half-expecting to see Seonghwa again, but he didn’t.

When they returned to the bar, Hongjoong saw his friends talking with another group, but when Yunho spotted Hongjoong, they immediately approached him.

“He was that quick?” Jongho said, making the others laugh, but the humor vanished when they saw Hongjoong’s face.

“What happened?” Yunho asked, concerned.

“I ran into Seonghwa,” he said quietly.

They stayed in silence for a second before exchanging concerned looks.

“Maybe we should go back to the apartment,” Yunho suggested gently.

Hongjoong felt guilty since he ruined his friends’ night out, the thought making his stomach twist even more. He already felt like he might throw up. Jongho offered to drive, sensing Hongjoong wasn’t in the right state to do it. And from the backseat, Yunho and Mingi kept their eyes on him, their concern so obvious it made him feel worse. He hated that he’d made them worry.

When they finally made it back to the apartment, Hongjoong realized that his hands were trembling. Yunho noticed immediately and gently guided him toward the couch.

“Hyung, sit down. I’ll make you some tea,” Yunho said softly before heading toward the kitchen, and Jongho followed him.

Mingi dropped down beside him on the couch, while Hongjoong stared at the floor until they returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup. He accepted it with both hands, trying to steady himself, and took a sip. The warmth soothed him a little, but when he set the cup down, his eyes drifted back to his arm, right where Seonghwa had grabbed him.

“What happened out there?” Mingi asked carefully.

Hongjoong exhaled and told them everything. From Jihoon to Seonghwa calling his name, the look on his face, how sudden it all was. By the time he finished, the others looked surprised.

“Hyung, sorry if this is too blunt, but…” Yunho said. “What exactly were you two?”

The question that had tortured Hongjoong for months. He dragged his hands through his hair, elbows on his knees, and his head fell into his palms.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I don’t know what we were.”

“You never talked about it?” Yunho asked, leaning forward.

Hongjoong shook his head without looking up.

“But… was it just casual sex?” Mingi continued. “Or did it seem like it was turning into a relationship, or…?”

Hongjoong kept shaking his head, faster this time, the words tumbling out. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.”

They stayed in silence for a while, letting Hongjoong breathe, then Jongho continued.

“What do you want, hyung?” He asked, making Hongjoong lift his head. “What were you hoping for with Seonghwa?”

Hongjoong looked at him for a long second, then looked at his arm again. What did he want? The answer felt obvious, but terrifying at the same time. He hadn’t cared only about the sex, and honestly, that wasn’t even the part that mattered most to him. What had mattered was waking up beside Seonghwa, the way those dark, gentle eyes softened when they looked at him, his smile, the way he lit up about the smallest, nerdiest things. Hongjoong didn’t want to stop seeing that, he didn’t want to lose it.

But talking about it had always felt impossible. The thought of saying it out loud, only for Seonghwa to feel nothing in return, left him terrified. What if Seonghwa laughed at him for being stuck on a handful of encounters that barely lasted two months? But… after tonight, he didn’t know. Could Seonghwa feel the same? Or maybe not.

Finally, Hongjoong let out a shaky breath. “…I don’t know.”

Jongho exhaled, Hongjoong could tell they also felt frustrated.

“Then you’ll have to figure it out. But…” he continued. “You should know that Vesper’s coming to the show tomorrow. They just got back today.”

Hongjoong stayed quiet, then nodded faintly.

“I could tell them that you don’t feel comfortable,” Jongho suggested, but Hongjoong shook his head; it’d only make him feel worse.

They looked at each other, not knowing what to say, until Yunho changed the topic, and they chatted until they started to feel sleepy. Hongjoong told them he’d stay on the couch a bit longer. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, with his thoughts circling endlessly, replaying Seonghwa’s face, his voice, the touch of his hand.

The next day, Hongjoong looked worse than he had the night before. There were red circles under his eyes, and his skin seemed paler. The others didn’t press him much, but they obviously knew it wasn’t the stress of the show this time.

By the time they got into soundcheck, Hongjoong’s chest finally loosened just a fraction; music always had that effect on him. Holding the bass grounded him in a way, and for a while, he could almost breathe again.

Until they got to Fourth of July.

The moment the intro played, his mind betrayed him. He imagined Seonghwa out there in the empty seats, watching him, and his throat tightened. It knocked him off balance, and his fingers slipped, making the wrong note rattle through the amp. Everyone froze and glanced over immediately.

“Sorry,” Hongjoong muttered quickly, gripping the neck of his bass tighter.

“We can play another song,” Yunho suggested after a moment, but Hongjoong shook his head firmly.

“No, keep going.” He said, and they did after some hesitation.

The rest of the day blurred; all the pre-show chaos kept him busy enough to push the thoughts of Seonghwa aside. At least until minutes before they were due onstage.

“Can you guys give me a second?” Hongjoong asked.

They nodded without hesitation, and he slipped outside, the heavy door clicking shut behind him. The cool air hit his face, and he lit a cigarette with shaking hands, the smoke filling his lungs. He leaned back against the brick wall, exhaling slowly.

He had never been good with words. Expressing himself through music was one thing, but when it came to confronting his own feelings directly, everything tangled. He’d wanted to tell Seonghwa what he meant to him, how much he’d changed his world, but instead, he’d made a scene over a misunderstanding, and now it felt like everything was ruined.

He let out a long breath, looking at the gray sky. If he couldn’t say it out loud, maybe the songs could say it for him. Every one of them carried a piece of Seonghwa anyway. Maybe, when he heard them, he would understand.

The door creaked, surprising Hongjoong. Yunho stepped out, poking his head around.

“Hyung, five minutes.”

Hongjoong nodded, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his heel.

Inside, the guys were waiting. They clapped him on the back, Yunho squeezed his shoulder, and they all muttered encouraging words. It was funny, since Hongjoong, being the oldest one, should have been the one encouraging the others. He still managed to smile; there was no point in being sad before the stage.

When the lights hit and the roar of the crowd exploded, that familiar rush surged through him. He gave everything he had: jumping, shouting, leaning into Jongho’s mic with a smile so convincing it almost erased the fact that an hour ago, he’d been breaking apart. The crowd believed it, screamed it back at him, and for fleeting moments, he believed it too.

But at every pause between songs, his eyes betrayed him. They swept the crowd again and again, desperate, restless, searching for some familiar faces, but all he could see was a blur of faces, hands, and lights. Nothing more.

After what happened yesterday, maybe they decided not to come. The thought clawed at him, heavier with every track. He played harder, shouted louder, trying to drown it out, but the ache stayed.

He couldn’t stop wondering what Seonghwa thought when he saw him with Jihoon. It made him feel gulty since Jihoon, of all people, didn’t deserve being pulled into this mess, and he knew that using Jihoon just to test if Seonghwa would get jealous was cruel. But in the most selfish corner of himself, Hongjoong wanted to believe Seonghwa cared.

Still, the show continued as it had on the first day, and finally, the last block of the set began. Hongjoong tightened his grip on his bass, swallowing hard as he scanned the sea of faces, hoping, praying, that somewhere, Seonghwa was there, watching.  Because if he wasn’t… Hongjoong wasn’t sure how he could keep all of this locked inside. His head was a mess, and he knew someday he’d look back at this and laugh, but right now, it was unbearable.

Then it felt like fate gave him a bit of mercy.

Mingi’s brows furrowed after Fame < Infamy ended, and his gaze shifted sideways. Not at the crowd, but toward one of the hidden sections of the venue. When Mingi looked back, worry was written all over his face, and that’s when he knew. Hongjoong followed his line of sight, and everything stopped.

There, he saw four figures half-hidden from view. He knew instantly. His breath caught, his chest seizing tight as if the strings of his bass had snapped and wound themselves around his ribs. He stared, terrified to blink, terrified they’d disappear if he looked away. Then one of them shifted and turned his head, looking down.

Hongjoong’s heart dropped so violently it hurt. He didn’t need to see the face. He was too familiar with the posture, the curve of his shoulders.

It was Seonghwa.

The crowd kept screaming, the lights were bright, but all of it was muted. It was him. He came.

Hongjoong’s throat worked around air that wouldn’t come. He gripped the mic with white knuckles. It was his turn to make a speech, but he had one thing in mind. At that moment, he realized something: it was now or never. He swallowed and spoke before the fear could paralyze him.

“We’ve been together for almost three years,” he started, “and while we’re doing it slowly, we’re making it great. We want to take this moment to say that this is a fucking dream for us, and thank you for letting us have this dream.”

He exhaled shakily, eyes scanning the crowd before finding their way back to where he knew Seonghwa was. His chest ached, but he kept going.

“And, um, there’s some way to put this, uh... I’m sorry.”

His voice cracked, and it came out louder than he intended. But he pressed on, his eyes locked on Seonghwa.

“Every single song is about you.”

The crowd seemed confused, even his friends, but for him, what mattered was the way Seonghwa was startled, his attention snapping back to the stage as the people beside him turned to look at him. Hongjoong let out a soft smile, feeling some kind of relief. He looked at the crowd as the opening instrumental of the next song began, lifting the mic once more.

“This is Fourth of July.”

Chapter Text

He could never forget the way Seonghwa made him feel.

The memories of that Fourth of July followed him like smoke, clinging to his skin no matter how much time passed. He didn’t know how many times he’d dreamed of that night, of the way his arms fit perfectly around Seonghwa’s waist from behind. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint scent of his shampoo as Hongjoong buried his face between his shoulders. He could still see Seonghwa’s blissful expression with fireworks exploding in the sky behind him like a cruel metaphor. And worse, the way they stayed wrapped around each other after, their bodies still trembling and hearts slowing in sync. That was what Fourth of July was about: those haunting memories that refused to fade.

“You and I were, you and I were fire…”

As Jongho sang the opening lines, Hongjoong felt the weight of every word settle in his chest. He knew he had to make Seonghwa understand what this meant, what he meant.

It was the fourth of July
   You and I were, you and I were fire, fire, fireworks
   That went off too soon
   And I miss you in the June gloom too

Hongjoong kept his eyes on Seonghwa’s silhouette. Even with the stage lights and the noise, he knew Seonghwa was watching him too. It was almost unbearable how much meaning could fit in a single glance.

I'll be as honest as you'll let me
   I miss your early morning company
   If you get me
   You are my favorite what if
   You are my best I’ll never know

As the verse went on, Hongjoong found himself wondering what would have happened if they had just talked, if one of them had stayed. Could they have avoided all this pain, or would they have ended up here anyway, standing on opposite sides of a stage pretending to be fine?

And I’m starting to forget
   Just what summer ever meant to you
   What did it ever mean to you?

He really meant these lyrics, he constantly thought about what summer had meant to Seonghwa. Had it ever meant the same thing it did to him?

Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean any of it
   I just got too lonely, lonely
   In between being young and being right
   You were my Versailles at night

He adjusted the strap of his bass, trying to focus and stay grounded in the rhythm. The crowd was still alive, hands raised, lights flashing. But the rush that usually lifted him was gone; it was all static, numbness, and adrenaline tangled together.

My 9 to 5 is cutting open old scars
   Again and again 'til I'm stuck in your head
   Had my doubts but I let them out
   You are the drought
   And I'm the holy water you have been without

He looked toward Seonghwa again. How many times had he tried to move on? How many times had he gone back to replay Seonghwa’s voice in his head?

And all my thoughts of you
   They could heat or cool the room, and no
   Don’t tell me you cried
   Oh, honey, you don’t have to lie

After Seonghwa uploaded the video singing, Hongjoong had played it on loop for a long time. He’d asked himself over and over if Seonghwa was hurting too. If the tremor in his voice while singing meant something, or if it was just Hongjoong’s wishful thinking, turning everything into proof. Maybe that video was a message, or maybe it wasn’t. But it kept him awake for nights, wondering if Seonghwa was trying to tell him that he still cared.

The bridge came, and Hongjoong took the mic, moving closer to Jongho and, inevitably, closer to where Seonghwa was. His voice came out raw, it felt like bleeding onstage, opening every wound he’d tried to hide under the lights.

I wish I'd known how much you loved me
   I wish I cared enough to know
   I’m sorry every song’s about you
   The torture of small talk with someone you used to love

His voice cracked. He wasn’t even sure if the mic picked it up, but he knew Seonghwa heard it. He could feel it in the way Seonghwa turned away, but Hongjoong stared back, desperate for him to understand how much it still hurt, yet how much he still hoped. But before he could even breathe again, Seonghwa pushed his chair back.

Hongjoong’s stomach dropped.

Seonghwa stood, looking away, and turned toward the aisle. Someone followed him immediately while he kept shaking his head and walking.

Walking out.

For a moment, Hongjoong just stood there, frozen, the sound around him fading. His hands had stopped moving, the bass hanging heavy against him. Mingi shot him a look from across the stage, nodding toward his instrument to tell him to keep playing, but by the time Hongjoong came back to himself, the song was already ending.

He blinked under the blinding lights, still trying to process what had just happened. After pouring everything out, after turning himself inside out in front of everyone, had it still meant nothing?

He didn’t even realize he’d stopped breathing until Yunho spoke, trying to continue the show.

“Alright! Let’s keep it going. This next one’s called Sugar, We’re Going Down!”

Cheers and applause.

And all Hongjoong could think was: He’s gone.

He swallowed hard, forcing his lips to move, fingers fumbling against the strings. His hands remembered what his mind didn’t, but every lyric felt wrong, and each chord too sharp. He could still see the back of Seonghwa’s head disappearing

When the final song ended, the others patted his shoulder, smiling for the cameras, shouting thank-yous to the fans. But Hongjoong’s gaze went straight to the spot where Seonghwa had been sitting, now empty.

After the concert, they were all backstage, sorting out the last few details for the remaining shows. By the time they finished, Hongjoong noticed Wooyoung and Yeosang approaching.

“Yo!” Wooyoung called out with his usual energy. “You guys fucking destroyed it out there.”

“We try,” Mingi replied while grinning, his voice still hoarse from screaming through the set.

“That last song sounded insane live,” Yeosang added, his voice softer, but then his eyes met Hongjoong, and suddenly everyone went silent. Everyone could feel how uncomfortable it felt. Mingi glanced between them, then at Hongjoong, like he wanted to break the tension but didn’t know how.

For the sake of peace, for himself and for them, he decided to excuse himself.

“I’ll just… hit the bathroom real quick,” he muttered, forcing a smile.

“Sure,” Yeosang replied too quickly and smiled back.

Hongjoong noticed Yunho raising a brow to him, but he just gave them both a small wave before walking off, his fake smile slipping the moment he turned away.

After a few minutes, Hongjoong finally found the staff-only bathroom. But just as he reached for the door, he caught voices from inside. It was a small space, usually empty, reserved for artists and staff. He was going to turn away to give them privacy, but what he heard made him freeze. 

“But how am I supposed to forget him?! Everyone keeps telling me to move on, to get over it, but tell me how? How could I?!”

Hongjoong’s stomach twisted. He knew that voice. He knew it too well.

There was silence after that until he heard someone quietly sobbing. Hongjoong’s hand clenched around the doorframe.

“Sorry, I just feel like I ruined everything… again. I really tried to make it different this time, but I don’t know why I ended up running from it all. I’m sorry for dragging everyone into this… and dragging you too.”

A softer voice responded, gentle and comforting:

“You didn’t ruin anything, and you didn’t drag me. You’re my friend, Seonghwa. I care about you. Don’t try to handle everything on your own, please.”

Then silence again. Hongjoong didn’t hear anything more.

He pressed his back against the cool wall, his breath shallow. The impulse to push the door open, to step in, and say something, anything, was almost unbearable. But he stopped himself. Seonghwa needed privacy.

But most importantly, Hongjoong wasn’t ready to face it. He still felt a little hurt by Seonghwa for walking away, and he was scared he might say something he shouldn’t. So he just looked one last time at the door and walked away.

Three weeks passed.

Hongjoong finally made up his mind: he was going to talk to Seonghwa the first chance he got, whenever their schedules stopped spinning.

Between playing back-to-back shows in Busan and Daegu, and preparing for three last-minute U.S. dates that had been added after their surprisingly large American fanbase asked for it, Lost Signal barely had time to breathe. The chaos, though, was almost a relief.

For the first time in months, Hongjoong didn’t feel consumed by thoughts of Seonghwa. The desperation had eased, replaced by some kind of acceptance.

He even started going out more, which for him was strange. It was just simple things like dinner with his friends, short walks, and he even visited his family. It wasn’t anything special, but it grounded him. He felt like he was learning how to exist again without everything revolving around Seonghwa.

By the end of the third week, Hongjoong was certain of one thing: Seonghwa wasn’t going to be the one to reach out. He probably felt guilty about what had happened, the same way Hongjoong did. They were both caught in this endless loop of waiting for the other to make the first move.

They just needed to talk.

How hard could it be?

…

Apparently, very.

Because now, Hongjoong was sitting at his desk, staring at the piece of paper with Seonghwa’s number on it. It was the one he’d given him the first time they met. He’d found it tucked away in one of his drawers, and somehow, that gave him the push to try talking to him again.

His hands were shaking while his phone screen glowed with the call window open. Then he slumped back in his chair, completely defeated.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s hard.”

Across the room, Yunho was lying on his bed, eating popcorn out of a giant bowl while scrolling on his phone.

“Maybe I should just leave him a message,” Hongjoong said, rubbing his face.

“For stuff like this, it’s better to call,” Yunho replied without looking up.

Hongjoong groaned, letting his forehead drop onto the desk. 

“The second I hear his voice, I’m gonna freeze.”

Yunho finally looked over at him. “Then maybe don’t do it tonight. You don’t have to force yourself.”

Hongjoong met his gaze, sighed, and stayed quiet for a moment.

“Wanna go out somewhere?” he said.

“You?” Yunho asked, surprised. “Suggesting going out?”

“I need a break,” Hongjoong replied.

Yunho looked at him for a long second, then grinned.

“Should I tell the others?” he asked.

Hongjoong nodded, already standing to grab his jacket. He didn’t care where they went, he just needed to get out of his head for a while. After a quick chat with the others, they decided to go to their usual bar, and Hongjoong offered to drive.

When they arrived, they took one of the corner tables. The good thing about tonight, and the main reason Hongjoong had picked this place, was that it was a Wednesday evening. The bar was quiet with only a handful of regulars scattered around.

“Alright, what do you guys want?” Hongjoong asked, standing up.

“Beer,” Mingi said immediately, raising a hand.

“Same,” Jongho replied.

“Soju,” Yunho added, leaning back in his chair.

Hongjoong nodded. “Two beers, two sojus. Got it.”

He made his way to the counter, ordered, and leaned against the bar. The bartender nodded and said, “Just a minute, I’ll grab some ice.”

“No rush,” Hongjoong replied.

He sighed, eyes wandering around the dim room, until he heard familiar laughter from near the entrance. When he turned, his stomach dropped.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

Jihoon had just walked in with two friends.

Instinctively, Hongjoong tried to turn away, pretending to study the bottles behind the counter, but it was too late. Jihoon spotted him almost instantly. There weren’t many people in the bar, and Hongjoong, standing alone at the counter, was hard to miss.

He smiled and waved. Hongjoong forced a smile back and lifted a hand in return. He felt his ears burn, still feeling guilty. Jihoon said something to his friends and walked over, smiling, and Hongjoong straightened up.

“How have you been?” he asked when he was in front of Hongjoong.

“Better,” Hongjoong replied honestly. “You?”

“College is killing me,” Jihoon laughed, running a hand through his hair. “But, you know, good overall.”

They shared a small laugh, then silence. Hongjoong honestly wanted to run.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Jihoon asked, glancing at the bar.

“Yeah, just waiting for the bartender. He went to get ice.”

Almost on cue, the bartender came back with a tray of two beers, two bottles of soju, and a few glasses. Hongjoong reached for his wallet, but before he could try to balance everything, Jihoon stepped in.

“Here, let me help you carry those,” Jihoon offered.

“Thanks,” Hongjoong replied.

After paying, they reached the table, and Jongho was the first to talk.

“Hyung, what took you so long?” he started, then noticed Jihoon and froze mid-sentence. Mingi and Yunho exchanged looks with their eyebrows raised.

“The bartender went to get ice,” Hongjoong said quickly, setting down the drinks. He gestured toward Jihoon. “This is Jihoon.”

“Hey,” Jihoon said, giving them a small, polite smile.

The others nodded, returning his greeting, but Hongjoong could feel the stares, making him tense.

“Hey, Jihoon, wanna sit over there? It’s a bit quieter,” Hongjoong said, nodding toward one of the empty tables near the back.

He nodded easily, so Hongjoong grabbed his bottle of soju and two shot glasses. Jihoon followed, and Hongjoong exhaled quietly as they sat down. The younger man looked at him, waiting, in a kind of patient, soft look that made Hongjoong chuckle despite himself. He poured Jihoon a shot, then one for himself.

“Here,” he said, sliding the glass over.

Jihoon took it with a small nod, and they both drank.

“Listen… I wanted to apologize for last time.” When the warmth hit his chest, Hongjoong finally spoke. “You’re a really good guy, and I actually had fun with you. You make people feel comfortable, you know? It’s just… things got complicated, and I hate that you got caught up in it. I’ve felt guilty ever since.”

Jihoon looked surprised for a moment, then waved his hands quickly.

“Oh, no, don’t feel bad. Really. I don’t hold it against you at all,” He replied. “It was weird, sure, but I wasn’t upset or anything.”

“Really?” Hongjoong asked, still doubtful.

“Really,” Jihoon said firmly.

“Still,” Hongjoong smiled faintly, holding out his hand, “let me apologize anyway. Properly.”

Jihoon laughed and took it. “Apology accepted.”

They shook hands, both of them laughing quietly after. Hongjoong poured them another round.

“Hey, is it okay if I get your number?” Jihoon asked after a moment, taking out his phone. “I’d like to stay in touch. You’re cool, and I’d like to hang out with you.”

“Yeah, of course,” Hongjoong replied, a little surprised. They exchanged numbers, clinking their glasses once more before Jihoon got up to rejoin his friends.

Hongjoong watched him go, then turned back toward his own table and froze when he saw three other people sitting there. After a deep breath, Hongjoong walked toward them and recognized Yeosang, Wooyoung, and San. His friends exchanged glances as he approached.

“Hey,” he greeted, forcing a small smile. They all returned it, but they also seemed nervous.

“It’s been a while since we were all together,” Hongjoong said, laughing lightly to ease the tension. The others chuckled under their breath, but it did little to loosen the air. He could feel the quiet discomfort threading between them.

“I think…” Yeosang started. “Seonghwa-hyung wants to talk to you.”

Ah, Hongjoong knew it. Of course this was coming.

He turned to his friends, his eyes narrowing slightly as if asking did you know about this? Yunho just met his gaze and subtly nodded toward the door. For a moment, Hongjoong wondered if they’d all planned this.

“…Where is he?” he asked finally.

“Outside. He went for a smoke,” Wooyoung replied, trying to give him a comforting smile.

“Thanks,” Hongjoong said while nodding, then turned and started walking toward the exit.

Fuck.

The way to the door suddenly felt way too long. Every step made his stomach twist tighter, but he’d already decided that he was going to talk to him. Whatever happened next, he’d face it.

When he pushed the door open, the night air rushed over him. He looked around and there he was.

Seonghwa sat near the corner of the building on the ground, his head resting against his knees. A cigarette burned weakly between his fingers while his other hand tangled in his hair like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong called softly as he approached.

Seonghwa’s head lifted at the sound of his voice, startled. The dim streetlight caught the side of his face and Hongjoong froze when he saw his red eyes, he obviously cried.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The smoke curled up between them, disappearing into the cold air.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said again, more quietly this time, stepping closer.

Seonghwa blinked up at him, as if he wasn’t sure whether Hongjoong was real. His cigarette trembled slightly between his fingers before he flicked it aside, and the ember died on the pavement.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Seonghwa murmured, his voice hoarse.

“You asked for me,” Hongjoong replied, crouching slightly so their eyes met. “Of course I did.”

A long silence followed. Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, then he looked away, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek like he was holding back words.

“Why were you with him?” he said suddenly.

Hongjoong frowned. “What?”

“That guy.” Seonghwa’s gaze finally met his again, burning. “I saw you with him the last time too.”

Ah. So that’s what this was.

Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“It wasn’t like that,” he replied.

Seonghwa laughed under his breath. “Sure looked like it.”

“Seonghwa—”

“Forget it,” he cut in, resting his head on his knees again. “Just… go with him if that’s what you want.”

Hongjoong froze. He didn’t know whether to argue or walk away. His heart clenched hard, and he hated that this was the way their first real conversation after weeks was going.

He stared at Seonghwa for a moment longer and realized they weren’t going to get anywhere like this. Seonghwa’s walls were up, his tone brittle, his body tense. If they tried to talk now, it would only end up hurting them more.

So, a bit frustrated, he exhaled and turned as if to leave, took one step, but then he felt trembling fingers curl around his wrist.

“No, sorry,” Seonghwa said, his voice breaking apart. “Please don’t leave me.”

Hongjoong turned back slowly to find Seonghwa’s hand clutching his arm like it was the only thing holding him together.

“Please,” Seonghwa whispered, head still buried between his knees. His shoulders shook, and Hongjoong swore he heard him sob. He hesitated, then knelt down beside him.

“No, don’t cry,” he said softly. “I’m not leaving.”

He sat down on the ground next to him, close enough for their knees to touch. For a while, the only sound was Seonghwa’s quiet sobs and the faint buzz of the city around them. His hand never left Hongjoong’s.

When Seonghwa finally lifted his head, his eyes were glassy and red, and Hongjoong felt the urge to hug him.

“Jihoon and I… we’re not anything,” he started, quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was nothing. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Seonghwa swallowed hard, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“I had no right to get angry,” he murmured.

“Yeah, well,” Hongjoong laughed weakly. “Me neither.”

They fell into silence again, waiting for the other to talk. Hongjoong decided it was the moment to confess everything.

“I was just… scared,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “That’s what really happened. I ruined it because I was too insecure. I kept thinking you didn’t feel the same way. And instead of talking to you about it, I started acting like I didn’t care. I thought if I pretended it didn’t matter, I wouldn’t get hurt. But I just…” 

He let out a shaky breath before continuing.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Not like this,” he confessed. “And in trying to protect myself, I ended up ruining the one thing I didn’t want to lose.”

Seonghwa looked at him for a long time, the faintest flicker of sadness softening his features.

“I get it,” he said quietly. “You’re not the only one who felt that way.”

He rested his head back against the wall, eyes distant. 

“When everything happened between us, I’d just quit my job at the school. It was getting too hard to balance with the band. And… I thought I’d feel free, but…” he sighed. “I don’t know. Every time I stop doing something I’ve done for a long time, it hits me hard, you know? I get stuck in my head. And I kind of… get depressed.” 

He smiled at Hongjoong then exhaled.

“And then losing what we had after that just made it worse. I couldn’t even get out of bed for days.” he chucked softly. “It got to a point where my friends dragged me to another country, can you believe that?”

Hongjoong felt a pang of guilt deep in his chest.

“I didn’t know that,” he replied softly. “And I’m sorry. I just made it worse for you, didn’t I?”

“No. Don’t apologize.” Seonghwa shook his head immediately. “If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. I wasn’t honest from the beginning. I should’ve told you what I wanted instead of assuming you’d figure it out.”

Then he laughed, embarrassed.

“If I’m being honest… I didn’t plan for anything serious at first,” he confessed. “But that changed faster than I expected. That night when you came to my apartment, sat there and actually listened to my lyrics, and you helped me fix that one verse instead of going straight to sleep with me… I don’t know.” 

He started playing with one cigarette in his hand, now avoiding Hongjoong's gaze.

“Something about that moment just… stuck,” he continued. “And then when we went to the park together…” he smiled faintly, “that was it. There was no going back for me after that. I kept telling myself not to feel too much, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I should’ve said something.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened, his heart beating fast. Then he huffed a small, helpless laugh.

“We’re idiots,” he said finally.

Seonghwa laughed too, and kept playing with the cigarette, still avoiding Hongjoong's eyes.

“So… what now?” Seonghwa asked after a while.

“We can start over,” Hongjoong replied. “If you still want to, and you’re still interested in me.”

Seonghwa looked at him, surprised, then let out a small laugh that came from deep in his chest.

“You really think I’m not?” he said, smiling. “For your information, in my twenty-four years of life, this is the first time I’ve ever suffered over someone like this.”

Hongjoong was surprised. He looked at Seonghwa for a moment before shaking his head. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, making Seonghwa laugh again. 

Then he reached for his pack of cigarettes, sliding one between his fingers and lighting it with a small flick of his lighter. The flame briefly illuminated his face, and Hongjoong admired him while he took a slow drag, the tip glowing faintly in the dark. Seonghwa then turned to Hongjoong and offered him one, holding it out between two fingers before bringing his own back to his mouth.

Hongjoong didn’t take it. He just looked at the way Seonghwa’s lips curved around the cigarette, at the smoke that slipped past them, curling lazily into the cool air. He leaned a little closer, drawn in before he even realized it. And, without warning, he reached out and plucked the cigarette from Seonghwa’s mouth.

“Hey!” Seonghwa was startled.

But Hongjoong only laughed quietly, his voice low, and set the cigarette between his own lips. He took a slow inhale, exhaling just enough to let the smoke hover between them. Seonghwa’s eyes flicked instantly to his mouth, his throat moving as he swallowed.

They were silent for a moment. The world around them seemed to shrink. Hongjoong took another drag, slower this time. He held the smoke in his mouth and reached out, his fingers finding Seonghwa’s cheek. 

Seonghwa’s breath hitched, his hand twitching as if to reach back, and when Hongjoong leaned in closer, until their noses almost touched. Seonghwa met him halfway.

Their lips brushed, a small contact, and Hongjoong exhaled, the smoke slipping from his mouth into Seonghwa’s, who inhaled it. The air between them turned hazy and warm, and the smell of cigarettes and cologne surrounded them.

When they pulled back slightly, both of them laughed softly, breathless. Seonghwa’s eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, the corner of his mouth lifting as he looked at Hongjoong like he was something fragile and familiar all at once.

Then, Seonghwa leaned in again, closing the space between them completely now. Their kiss deepened quickly, slow at first, then more sure, desperate. Hongjoong could taste the faint bitterness of smoke and soju on Seonghwa’s lips.

When they broke apart, still catching their breath, Hongjoong let out a small, dazed laugh.

“Fuck,” he murmured in a barely audible voice. “I missed this.”

Seonghwa smiled faintly, brushing his thumb over Hongjoong’s cheek.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.”

He leaned in again for a short kiss, almost shy this time. After separating, Hongjoong leaned his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder, feeling like he couldn't contain his sudden happiness. Neither of them spoke, just watched the distant glow of the city lights in silence while Seonghwa smoked the rest of his cigarette, the faint smell of tobacco mixing with the night air.

“I’ll go to the States for two weeks,” Hongjoong said, his a little insecure.

Seonghwa nodded slowly.

“Maybe we can use that time to think about what we really want,” Hongjoong continued. “And by the time I’m back, my schedule will calm down. And we can start again… properly this time.”

Seonghwa looked at him, with an expression so soft that made Hongjoong's heart ache.

“That sounds good to me,” he replied quietly.

When the cigarette burned down to the filter, Seonghwa dropped it, crushing it under his shoe. Then turned to Hongjoong with a small, content smile.

“Should we go back in?” he asked.

Hongjoong met his gaze and nodded.

“Yeah.” 

When they walked back inside, the shift in atmosphere was immediate. Everyone’s eyes flicked toward them at once. Wooyoung was the first to talk, leaning forward with a grin that was far too knowing.

“So…”

Seonghwa set his jacket on the back of a chair, looking composed but with the faintest redness still around his eyes. 

“We talked,” he simply said.

That didn’t seem to be enough for anyone. The table stayed quiet, their eyes darting between the two until Hongjoong rolled his eyes and muttered, “We’re good.”

A collective sigh of relief spread across both groups. Jongho clapped once, as if a great tension had finally broken. Wooyoung leaned back with an exaggerated groan. 

“You have no idea how much he cried over you,” he said, pointing at Seonghwa, who immediately gasped.

“Wooyoung!” Seonghwa warned.

“I’m just saying!” Wooyoung raised his hands in defense. “We were this close to calling a therapist.”

Hongjoong glanced at Seonghwa while everyone laughed, his embarrassment only making him look softer.

“At least you didn’t have to sing his own heartbreak songs,” Jongho added, which caught Hongjoong off guard.

Yunho snorted into his drink. “Oh, but you know those were the best tracks on the album,” he said. “We were all suffering, but at least it was worth it.”

“To our suffering!” San said while raising his glass dramatically. 

Everyone echoed the toast, laughter bubbling up as their soju bottles clinked. The teasing continued, crossing between both bands now, and Seonghwa kept laughing at Hongjoong since his face was all red. But he had to admit that he honestly missed all of this: the teasing, laughs, his friends. 

The following week, Lost Signal flew out for their three shows in the U.S. The flight was long, but the adrenaline of performing abroad again made it worth it. The audience there was different, even more eager than they’d expected. From the first chord, Hongjoong could feel the energy wrapping around him.

The shows went by fast. For the first time in months, he felt completely himself onstage, he could pour all his energy into the performances now. Between shows, he found himself looking out over the unfamiliar skylines and thinking how far they’d come. Something deep inside him said that their career was only beginning to rise, and that quiet certainty filled him with pride, for all of them.

After the concerts, the band spent a few days exploring the city. Hongjoong and Seonghwa texted every day, keeping things light with casual messages, some songs, and pictures of the city. They both knew the real conversation would happen once they were home.

And true to his word, the first thing Hongjoong did when he landed back in Seoul was text Seonghwa and ask him out for coffee.

He took extra care getting dressed that day: a gray button-up, navy pants, and a jacket that made him look put together without trying too hard. The others noticed right away.

“So you’re going on a date this soon, huh?” Mingi teased, leaning against the doorframe.

“It’s just coffee,” Hongjoong replied, rolling his eyes.

“I can smell your cologne from my room!” Yunho shouted from down the hall.

He ignored them, though a faint smile tugged at his lips as he grabbed his keys. He had to admit that he’d missed the teasing a little.

When he arrived outside Seonghwa’s apartment, he sent a quick text. A moment later, Seonghwa appeared, dressed in black as always. The fitted shirt hugged his frame, and the matching pants sat perfectly at his waist. A soft sweater was thrown over his shoulders, making him look effortlessly elegant.

Hongjoong stepped out of the car and opened the passenger door for him.

“You look good,” he said before he could stop himself.

“So do you,” Seonghwa replied, a smile flickering on his lips as his eyes swept over him. “Gray suits you.”

Hongjoong smiled back.

As they drove, Seonghwa connected his phone to the car and played his playlist. The music filled the silence between them, which still felt familiar and comforting in a way. Strangely, even though months had passed, it felt like nothing had changed between them.

At the café, they found a small table by the window, then ordered two lattes and a slice of strawberry shortcake to share.

“So,” Seonghwa started once they sat down, stirring his coffee absentmindedly, “how was America? Did you like it?”

“Yeah, actually.” Hongjoong smiled. “It was different, but I really liked it. I think we're doing well.”

“That’s good,” Seonghwa said softly, smiling back. “You deserve it.”

They ate quietly for a while, sharing some stories about those months when they didn’t talk, until the silence settled comfortably again. Then Hongjoong leaned back slightly, glancing at Seonghwa.

“Did you think about it?” he asked.

Seonghwa set his coffee down, fingers lingering on the cup before he nodded. 

“I did.” He took a breath, making eye contact with Hongjoong before sighing. “If I’m being honest, I’m a bit scared of commitment. I had… a relationship once that really messed with my head. I fell hard for someone, and it ended badly… humiliatingly, actually. Since then, I’ve been afraid of letting myself fall like that again. I always end up running before things get serious.”

He paused, looking down at his hands. “But with you, I couldn’t stop it. I really did fall for you, Hongjoong. And I know it’s not fair to carry my old fears into something new, but I thought you should know.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened, the honesty in Seonghwa’s voice both painful and tender.

“I want to try, though. With you,” Seonghwa continued, his expression softening. “I don’t think there’s a way back from this, honestly,” he said with a small laugh.

Hongjoong smiled, the tension easing.

“What about you?” Seonghwa asked.

“What about me?” Hongjoong echoed, amused. “Well, as you might’ve noticed, I’ve got my own share of insecurities.”

Seonghwa huffed a small laugh, nodding.

“But,” Hongjoong continued, “for you, I want to work on them. I thought I was over that part of myself, but then… well, this was the first time I’d felt that kind of connection again. It made every fear I’ve ever had come crawling back. Still…” he looked at him directly, “I want to try, too.”

A small silence stretched between them before Seonghwa chuckled softly.

“Wow. Our exes really fucked us up, huh?” he said.

“Yeah, they did,” Hongjoong replied while laughing.

They both smiled, their conversation drifting to small, random things again. After finishing their coffees, they decided to take a short walk before heading back. The air outside had cooled in that tender way it did before sunset, and the sky was streaked with soft pink and amber, casting a gentle light over everything.

They walked side by side in comfortable silence. Hongjoong kept his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, thinking that the silence between them shouldn’t be this peaceful after everything they’d been through, but it did.

As they turned a corner and passed into a small park, something stirred in Hongjoong’s chest. Maybe it was the nostalgia of walking next to Seonghwa again, or maybe it was realizing that just being here with him was what he’d missed the most.

He glanced sideways. Seonghwa was looking up at the sky, hands in his pockets, his profile catching the golden light.

Hongjoong’s heart began to race. The words formed somewhere deep in his chest before he even knew what he wanted to say. He exhaled, stopped walking, and turned to face him. Seonghwa was a little confused as Hongjoong reached out and took his hands.

“Can I be your boyfriend?” Hongjoong asked, feeling his face burn.

For a second, Seonghwa just stared at him. Then, to Hongjoong’s complete disbelief, he started laughing so hard that he had to cover his mouth. His jaw dropped. 

“I-I just confessed, and you laugh?”

“I, no, no, I’m sorry!” Seonghwa said between laughs, wiping the corner of his eyes. “It’s just… It’s awkward!”

“Are you saying I’m awkward?” Hongjoong frowned, crossing his arms.

Seonghwa tried to compose himself, still chuckling.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” He took a deep breath, finally calming down, and smiled at him, his eyes still bright from laughter. “Yes. Yes, I’d love that. If you still want to be my boyfriend.”

“No,” Hongjoong squinted at him dramatically. “You laughed at my confession.”

“Nooo,” Seonghwa groaned, leaning in and taking Hongjoong’s cheeks gently between his hands. Hongjoong tried to pout, but Seonghwa only smiled wider, his thumbs brushing his skin softly.

After glancing around to make sure no one was nearby, Seonghwa leaned in and kissed him softly. When he pulled back, he whispered against Hongjoong’s lips, “My boyfriend…”

Hongjoong could feel his ears go red.

“Yeah, that sounds weird,” he muttered, making Seonghwa laugh again.

They continued laughing as they walked.

“So,” Hongjoong said after a while, glancing at him, “where do you want to go now?”

Seonghwa thought for a moment. “Do you want to come over to my place? We can order dinner.”

“Is Yeosang not home?” Hongjoong asked.

“No, he’s with Wooyoung and San,” Seonghwa replied.

“Uh-huh. Why do I feel like you tell him to leave every time I come over? Poor Yeosang.”

Seonghwa gasped dramatically. “No, I’d never do that to him.”

“Sure you wouldn’t,” Hongjoong teased, bumping his shoulder playfully.

They both laughed again, walking back toward the car together.

When they got to Seonghwa’s apartment, everything felt too familiar for Hongjoong. They sat on the couch and, after ordering a pizza, they decided to put on a movie while they waited.

“This time, I’m picking,” Hongjoong said as he scrolled through the options.

“You?” Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “I feel like you’ll put on something like one of those black and white indie films where no one talks for fifteen minutes.”

“What concept do you have of me?” Hongjoong asked and clicked on La La Land.

“Really?” Seonghwa tilted his head, a little surprised. “I didn’t expect you liked romance movies.”

“I figured you’d like it,” Hongjoong shrugged, settling next to him. “And it’s one of my favorites.”

“I do like it,” Seonghwa admitted quietly, his lips curving into a small smile before standing up. “Wait here, I’ll grab some water.”

As Seonghwa disappeared into the kitchen, Hongjoong leaned back against the couch and let his eyes wander around the room. It looked almost the same as before, too tidy for Hongjoong’s liking. But then, his gaze stopped.

On the shelf by the TV, sitting side by side, were the teddy bear he’d bought for Seonghwa months ago and the unopened Tom Nook’s Cranny LEGO set. Something in his chest tugged. He’d honestly thought Seonghwa would’ve gotten rid of them, or at least shoved them into some forgotten box. But they were still there, out in the open.

When Seonghwa came back with two glasses of water, Hongjoong nodded toward the shelf. “You kept those.”

Seonghwa followed his gaze, then smiled softly. “Of course I did. They’re valuable to me.”

“Valuable?”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa said, setting the glasses down. “Even if we had never talked again, I wouldn’t have thrown them away. They remind me of you.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, no one outside my friends ever gave me stuff like that. So I really appreciate it.”

“Did you ever build the Lego?” Hongjoong asked, feeling some kind of warmth and ache in his chest.

“Obviously not.” Seonghwa let out a small laugh. “I promised I’d build it with you.”

For a moment, Hongjoong couldn’t find words, just staring at the LEGO box.

“Then…” he started, “why don’t we build it now?”

“Really?” Seonghwa’s face lit up immediately. Hongjoong nodded. “Okay, wait here.”

He got up and returned holding the box, holding it as if it were fragile. Hongjoong sat on the floor while Seonghwa cleared some space on the coffee table. Then he took out the packages of pieces and placed them on the table.

“Alright,” Seonghwa said, sitting cross-legged beside him. “Step one.”

“I’ve never done this before,” Hongjoong looked down at the chaotic pile of tiny colored pieces and frowned. “You’re gonna have to be patient with me.”

“I am always patient with you,” Seonghwa said, beginning to analyze the packages.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Hongjoong murmured, squinting at the instruction booklet like it was written in another language.

They started working, sorting out pieces, and following the tiny diagrams. Within minutes, Hongjoong was scowling.

“This makes no sense!” he muttered, trying to attach two pieces that clearly didn’t fit. “Who makes this stuff? Evil people?”

Seonghwa laughed.

“You just have to find the right piece! Look, this one goes here.” He leaned closer, guiding Hongjoong’s hand. Their fingers brushed, and Hongjoong pretended not to notice how his heartbeat jumped.

Minutes passed, the soundtrack of the movie blending with their voices, laughter, and the click of Lego pieces snapping together.

After a while, Hongjoong sighed. “You’re starting to get frustrated, right?”

“No,” Seonghwa said easily, not looking up from the structure.

“Liar,” Hongjoong teased. “You have that tiny wrinkle between your brows.”

“I’m focused,” Seonghwa replied in a comforting voice. “I’m fine, really. You’re doing great.”

They were halfway through when the doorbell rang. Seonghwa stood up to grab the pizza while Hongjoong stayed there, studying the half-built model with an exaggerated level of concentration. A minute later, Seonghwa came back, balancing the box and two cans of soda.

“Dinner’s here,” he said, setting it down on the table.

The smell of melted cheese filled the room, and they ate as they continued building, alternating between bites and small chat. By the time the Lego set finally started taking shape, the movie had finished. They finally placed the last brick, the tiny store standing perfectly in front of them.

Seonghwa held up the Tom Nook figure, smiling.

“Aww, look at him,” he said, his voice soft with amusement as he set it in front of Hongjoong, who rolled his eyes and pretended to look anywhere else. But he truly loved this side of Seonghwa.

Seonghwa snapped a quick photo of the finished set before Hongjoong helped him move it to the shelf, where Seonghwa carefully made space among his other models. They stood there for a moment, admiring it side by side.

When they finally sat back down, Hongjoong stretched his arms above his head.

“That was harder than I expected,” he said with a small groan.

Seonghwa chuckled, turning slightly to face him, one arm resting on the back of the couch.

“But it was worth it, wasn’t it?” his other hand found Hongjoong’s. “Spending time with your boyfriend.” He said in a teasing tone.

Hongjoong froze. His ears went hot immediately, the word boyfriend echoing in his head once more. Fuck, he felt like a teenager again.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he muttered while covering his face.

Seonghwa laughed immediately at Hongjoong’s reaction, so Hongjoong leaned forward and grabbed Seonghwa by the collar, pulling him in before that laugh could turn into another teasing comment, and their lips met halfway. Seonghwa’s surprise melted quickly, his hand finding the side of Hongjoong’s neck as he smiled into the kiss.

The kiss was sloppy at first, all the pent-up tension making it clumsy. But as the seconds stretched, the desperation began to morph, shifting into a deep, languid sensuality. The frantic pace slowed, and the kisses grew deeper. Hongjoong’s tongue traced the seam of Seonghwa’s lips, and when they parted for him, the world narrowed to the slick, hot slide of their mouths, a slow, intoxicating dance.

When they broke apart to gasp for a breath, their foreheads rested together.

“Come here,” Hongjoong ordered. His hands slid from Seonghwa’s jaw to his shoulders, applying gentle but firm pressure. Seonghwa understood, and with a fluid movement, he shifted, straddling Hongjoong’s lap and settling his weight onto him. The new position was impossibly closer, the heat of their bodies searing through their clothes.

Seonghwa’s arms circled Hongjoong’s shoulders as they dove back into the kiss, now with a new, thrilling intensity. Their hands began to wander, mapping the familiar territory with a fresh, desperate hunger. His palms slid down the strong plane of Seonghwa’s back, feeling the shift and flex of muscle beneath his fitted shirt. Seonghwa, in turn, roamed over Hongjoong’s shoulders and arms, his touch both possessive and reverent.

Driven by a need to feel more, Hongjoong slipped his hands beneath the hem of Seonghwa’s shirt. His fingertips encountered the smooth skin of his lower back, and Seonghwa arched into the touch, gasping. Hongjoong’s hands slid upward, splaying across the taut muscles of Seonghwa’s stomach and back.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing a wet, burning path down the column of Seonghwa’s throat. Seonghwa groaned, his head falling back to give him more space. Hongjoong nipped and licked at the sensitive skin, his hands still moving under the shirt.

“Off,” Hongjoong breathed against his damp skin, his fingers hooking into the fabric. “This needs to come off.”

Seonghwa didn’t hesitate, pulling back just enough to grab the hem and pull the shirt over his head in one swift motion. He tossed it aside, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The sight stole the air from Hongjoong’s lungs. In the dim light, Seonghwa’s torso was a masterpiece of sculpted muscle: the sharp cut of his collarbones, the firm swell of his pecs, the tight, defined lines of his abdomen. Hongjoong’s gaze was pure, unadulterated worship.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, his hands returning to their exploration, now on bare skin. He palmed the hard muscles of Seonghwa’s chest, his thumbs brushing over his nipples, which tightened instantly under the touch. Leaning in, he sealed his mouth over one, and Seonghwa cried out, his fingers clenching in Hongjoong’s hair. Hongjoong lavished attention on the left one, then the other, with his tongue and teeth, painting blooming roses onto his honey skin before returning to his neck and shoulders to leave more possessive marks.

Overwhelmed by the sensation, Seonghwa sought Hongjoong’s mouth again, capturing his lips in a deep, searing kiss.

Even through layers of fabric, the friction of their bodies was a delicious torment. Then Seonghwa shifted his hips. A deliberate, slow, grinding roll that pressed the hard line of his own erection against Hongjoong’s.

A sharp, punched-out moan escaped Hongjoong’s lips, his head falling back against the cushions. Seonghwa’s lips curved into a smile against the skin of Hongjoong’s neck. He did it again, this time with more pressure, his hand sliding down from his shoulder to palm him firmly through his pants.

“Seonghwa…” Hongjoong gasped, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

“Shh,” Seonghwa soothed. Hongjoong could feel his gaze as his own face contorted in pleasure, his eyelids fluttering. Seonghwa applied pressure again, rubbing his palm in a slow, maddening circle, feeling the hard length of him twitch in response.

Seonghwa’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze dark and utterly focused. He was drinking in every single one of Hongjoong’s reactions, which made him feel more exposed.

Seonghwa truly had spoiled and ruined him for anyone else. The last person he’d been with like this, the last person who had touched him, known him this much, was Seonghwa. It felt like a lifetime ago, turning the simple touches into something overwhelming.

Without a word, Seonghwa slid off his lap, sinking to his knees on the floor between his legs. His eyes never left Hongjoong’s as his fingers worked open the button and zipper of his pants with practiced ease. He tugged them down just enough, along with his underwear, freeing Hongjoong’s aching erection.

The cool air was a shock, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Seonghwa’s gaze. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over the slick head, making Hongjoong shudder.  

Then, Seonghwa took him in, and the world dissolved.

It was sloppy from the first second, gloriously so. Seonghwa’s obvious goal was to overwhelm Hongjoong. He swallowed him down deep, his throat working around the head before pulling back with a lewd, slick sound. Spit slicked his length, dripping down onto his shirt.  Seeing the mess on the fabric, Hongjoong’s hands went to his own hem.

"Let me, ah, take this off," he murmured, "so I don't ruin it."

But before he could lift it, Seonghwa’s hand shot out, capturing his. He pulled Hongjoong’s hand away from the shirt.

"No," he said after pulling out, his voice rough. "Don't take it off. I like how it looks on you."

Hongjoong raised his eyebrow, then a smirk tugged at his lips.

"Okay," he conceded. With one hand, he lifted his shirt, and the other came up to cradle Seonghwa’s jaw, his thumb stroking the flushed skin of his cheekbone before he gently guided him back down to his cock.

When he continued, his tongue was everywhere: flattening against the underside, tracing the prominent vein, circling the tip before diving back down.

Hongjoong’s free hand flew to Seonghwa’s hair, tangling in the dark strands. His hips stuttered, trying and failing to stay still.

"F-fuck, Seonghwa... just like that," he choked out. He was seeing stars with every skillful swipe of Seonghwa’s tongue, and every deep, throaty hum that vibrated through his very core.

Seonghwa was relentless, bobbing his head with a rhythm that was both punishing and reverent. He’d pull off almost completely, only the tip in his mouth, his tongue playing there, before plunging again, taking him to the hilt, his nose buried in the hair at the base. The sounds of wet gulps, choked gasps, and the slick, rhythmic slide of lips on his erection were filthy.

And Hongjoong could only take it, his release feeling both impossibly distant and terrifyingly close. Seonghwa had ruined him for anyone else, and at this moment, on his knees, he was claiming him all over again. The coil in Hongjoong’s gut tightened unbearably.

"Seonghwa, I'm—" he tried to gasp, but the words were strangled.

Desperate to warn him, Hongjoong’s hands fisted in Seonghwa's dark hair, a sharp tug meant to pull him away. But instead of retreating, Seonghwa groaned and drove himself down further, taking Hongjoong impossibly deeper. Hongjoong could feel the head of his cock nudge the back of Seonghwa’s throat, and the sensation shattered his last shred of control.

"Seonghwa...!" he cried.

His world exploded into blinding white, his body arching off the couch. Through the haze, he was dimly aware of Seonghwa swallowing around him, refusing to let a single drop escape. He didn't stop until Hongjoong was completely spent, sensitive and trembling, before finally pulling away with a final, wet pop.

Then he stood up and captured Hongjoong’s lips in a deep, slow kiss, allowing him to taste himself on Seonghwa's tongue.

"Wait," Seonghwa murmured when they parted for air. He disappeared into his bedroom, leaving Hongjoong sprawled on the couch, trying to reclaim his breath and his sanity.

And when he returned, in his hands was a small box of condoms and a bottle of lubricant. Without a word, Seonghwa shed his trousers and underwear, his erection springing free. Hongjoong felt his mouth water at the sight, his eyes drinking in the elegant length of him.

Seonghwa positioned himself over Hongjoong again, straddling his hips. Hongjoong’s hands instinctively rose to Seonghwa’s chest, mapping the warm skin. Seonghwa took one of his hands, lacing their fingers together for a moment, a surprisingly tender gesture. Then, he moved, reached for the lubricant, and poured a generous amount over Hongjoong’s fingers, making them slick and cool, before guiding that hand down between his own legs.

"Go on," Seonghwa breathed, his eyes locked with Hongjoong's.

Hongjoong groaned as his fingertip pressed against his entrance. Seonghwa hissed at the sensation, his body tensing for a second before relaxing into the touch. He guided Hongjoong’s finger inside, the first knuckle, then deeper, until he was fully adjusted.

Only then did Seonghwa guide a second finger beside the first, a sharp moan escaping his lips. This time, Hongjoong took the lead. He began to move, scissoring his fingers. Hongjoong watched, utterly captivated, as he worked to open him up, each push earning a soft, ragged sigh. The tight heat around his fingers was overwhelming, and he focused on the way Seonghwa’s body yielded for him, becoming pliant and receptive.

When he was sure Seonghwa was ready, Hongjoong pressed forward with a third finger, and the effect was immediate. A broken, throaty moan was torn from Seonghwa’s lips, his back arching off as he was filled completely. It was then, watching Seonghwa come undone under the stretch of three fingers, that Hongjoong started to truly admire him. He was mesmerized by the flutter of his eyelashes against his flushed skin, his lips parting around silent gasps, the elegant line of his throat as his head fell back in a low, pleased sigh. He realized, with a sudden clarity, that he had never truly admired how perfectly the black hair framed Seonghwa's expressive face.

His detailed observation was interrupted when Seonghwa let out a soft laugh, the sound breaking the intense atmosphere.

"Sorry," Seonghwa murmured, a little breathless. "It's just... it's been a long time since someone looked at me like that."

Hongjoong didn't stop his intense gaze; if anything, he doubled down, watching with satisfaction as Seonghwa’s blush deepened.

Flustered, Seonghwa suddenly asked, "Can I try something?"

"What is it?" Hongjoong’s voice was rough.

Seonghwa shifted, pulling Hongjoong’s fingers out and drawing a whimper from him. He leaned over to the side table, and when he turned back, he was holding a simple black blindfold. Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, questioning him.

"It's not for what you think,” he smiled. “We use them for one of our shows."

He hesitated, his own confidence wavering for a second.

"Can I put it on you? You can say no."

Hongjoong considered it. He’d never tried anything like it, but he found he wasn't closed off to the new experience.

"Okay," he agreed.

Seonghwa leaned in and carefully placed the blindfold over Hongjoong's eyes, not tying it too tightly. Hongjoong felt a bit anxious at the sudden loss of sight, but it was instantly quelled when Seonghwa’s lips found his in a soft, reassuring kiss.

"Just feel," Seonghwa whispered against his mouth, and Hongjoong surrendered to the sensation.

The world dissolved into a symphony of touch and sound. A slick, lubed hand closed around his cock, stroking, and Hongjoong jolted. He realized that, deprived of sight, the sensation was magnified tenfold.

"You look so hot like this," Seonghwa's voice was a low thrum, vibrating through the darkness, and Hongjoong could only gasp in response, his head falling back against the couch. "I'm gonna put it in."

Hongjoong managed a jerky nod, his breath hitching. He heard the rustle of foil, the soft snap of the condom being rolled on, and then the cool shock of more lubricant being poured onto him.

"We should get tested soon,” Seonghwa spoke again. “Now that we're exclusive... I really want to feel that cock inside me completely."

A guttural groan was ripped from Hongjoong’s throat. He felt the couch dip as Seonghwa positioned himself over him, his hands guiding Hongjoong’s erection. Then, he felt the most exquisite, maddening pressure at his tip, followed by the slow, breathtaking slide as Seonghwa began to sink down.

A shared moan filled the air, and Hongjoong couldn't tell where his ended and Seonghwa's began. It was a tight, wet, impossible heat, sheathing him completely. His hands flew to Seonghwa’s waist, gripping the sharp bones of his hips.

Seonghwa began to move, a slow, deliberate roll of his hips that made Hongjoong shut his eyes. But then the pace quickened, building into a rhythm that had Hongjoong gasping for air, his head thrown back against the cushions. As he adjusted his own position slightly on the couch, a sharp, broken whimper tore from Seonghwa’s lips, and Hongjoong felt him clench hard around him. He’d found the spot.

His grip on Seonghwa’s hips tightened, his fingers pressing into the honey skin as he began to thrust upward, aiming for that exact, sensitive place again and again, faster now. A string of high-pitched, desperate moans fell from Seonghwa’s lips, each one climbing higher in pitch and volume than the last. Hongjoong could hear the slick, frantic sounds of Seonghwa touching himself.

They continued like that for a while, until Hongjoong felt Seonghwa’s entire body tense. The tightness around him became almost unbearable a second before Seonghwa let out a gasp, his legs trembling violently and clamping tightly around Hongjoong’s thighs as he fell apart. Only then did Hongjoong still his movements, slowing as Seonghwa rode out the last waves of his climax.

He sought Seonghwa’s face with his clean hand, cupping his jaw, and pulling him down into a deep, messy kiss. When they parted, breathless, Hongjoong’s voice was raw.

"Let me... I'll take care of it," he panted, suggesting Seonghwa get off so he could finish himself since he didn’t feel close.

But Seonghwa only rose up almost completely, only to sink back down with a devastatingly deep thrust. A soft, breathy moan escaped directly into Hongjoong’s ear. Seonghwa’s forehead came to rest on his shoulder, his entire body going pliant and heavy. The sensation forced a ragged groan from Hongjoong, who let his own head fall back against the couch cushions as Seonghwa began to move again.

Hongjoong was lost in the rhythm, in the feeling of being so deeply connected, when Seonghwa’s voice broke the silence.

"Mine."

The word, so possessive and sure, shocked Hongjoong into a momentary stillness. Before he could process it, Seonghwa whispered again, his lips brushing the shell of Hongjoong’s ear, "All of this... it's only ever been you, Hongjoong. It will only ever be you."

Then, a bit insecure, Seonghwa added, "I love you."

The words, so simple and profound, slammed into Hongjoong with the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. The combination of the overwhelming physical sensation and this raw, final confession shattered something deep within him. A hot, silent tear escaped, tracing a path down his cheek and getting caught in the fabric of the blindfold. Then another. Seonghwa stilled instantly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

Hongjoong’s only answer was a sharp, upward thrust of his hips, burying himself to the hilt and wrenching a loud, surprised cry from Seonghwa. That was all the confirmation he needed. Hongjoong began to move in earnest, fucking up into that tight heat, the tears now falling freely. This was his problem; once he started crying, he couldn't stop.

He was only vaguely aware of the tears, his entire being focused on the sounds Seonghwa was making. In the moans that grew louder, higher in pitch, the way his nails dug into Hongjoong’s shoulders, the way his body tightened around him, pulling him deeper. He was close, so close.

Suddenly, he heard a sharp, choked cry from Seonghwa and felt him clench violently around him, his legs trembling violently against Hongjoong’s sides. It was too much. Hongjoong came with a groan, his head throwing back so hard the blindfold shifted, slipping down just enough for his blurred vision to capture the sight of Seonghwa above him, his expression utterly fucked-out, beautiful and ruined.

Seonghwa collapsed forward, his head finding its place on Hongjoong’s shoulder again as they both fought for air, their hearts hammering against each other in the quiet room.

After a few minutes, Hongjoong reached up and pulled the blindfold the rest of the way off. He cupped Seonghwa’s face, kissing him deeply, before carefully maneuvering them so Seonghwa was lying spent on the couch. When they parted, Seonghwa looked dazed.

"I came untouched," he murmured, his voice wonderstruck.

"What?" Hongjoong was surprised.

"I don't know, it's never happened to me before.” Seonghwa hid his face in his hands, a blush creeping up his neck. “It felt weird, but your tears... when I saw you like that, I don't know what came over me. I couldn't help it."

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow.

"You're a freak," he said while smiling,

Seonghwa peeked through his fingers. "You are too!"

Hongjoong laughed and leaned in to kiss him once more before pushing himself up to fetch a damp towel from the bathroom and throw the condom. He returned and gently cleaned them both. As he did, Seonghwa’s eyes fell on Hongjoong’s shirt.

"Noo," he whined softly. "It got a little stained."

Hongjoong followed his gaze to the small, drying mark on the fabric.

"If you like how I look in this shirt, I can always buy more." He shrugged and laughed softly when Seonghwa nodded instantly.

“Stay here,” Hongjoong said after he finished cleaning Seonghwa, and disappeared down the hallway. He returned a minute later with a blanket from his room, shaking it out before draping it over them both as they sank back onto the couch. Seonghwa leaned against the armrest, and Hongjoong settled beside him, resting his head against Seonghwa’s chest. The steady rhythm of Seonghwa’s heartbeat under his ear felt grounding.

They stayed like that for a while. Seonghwa’s fingers moved slowly through Hongjoong’s hair, making him sleepy.

After a few minutes, Hongjoong spoke, his voice muffled against Seonghwa’s chest.

“Did you ever listen to the songs I wrote about you?”

Seonghwa’s hand stilled for a second. Then he let out a small laugh.

“Yeah… I did. Honestly, they made my stomach turn the first time.”

Hongjoong chuckled. “Good.”

“But,” Seonghwa continued, his voice gentler now, “after that, I couldn’t stop listening. It was like having you close again. I kept trying to figure out what every lyric meant, maybe they would tell me something you never said out loud.”

Hongjoong tilted his head up to look at him, his gaze soft. “Did you figure it out?”

“Not really,” Seonghwa said, smiling faintly. “But I think I got close.”

He hesitated for a moment.

“Those two… Fourth of July and Bang the Doldrums, were those the only ones about me?” he asked.

Hongjoong thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“When I was editing the album, I realized I’d put a bit of you in everything,” he laughed. “But yeah. I wrote those two about you.”

Seonghwa hummed, resuming his slow strokes through Hongjoong’s hair.

“I’m glad you decided to talk to me again,” he said quietly. “I’m terrible at taking the first step… but I’m really happy we found our way back.”

Hongjoong turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss against Seonghwa’s chest, right where his heartbeat was strongest.

“Me too,” he whispered.

The room fell into a peaceful silence again. Hongjoong could feel Seonghwa’s warmth and smell the faint trace of his cologne. His mind drifted, thoughts blurring at the edges as his body relaxed completely. For the first time in months, he felt like things were where they were supposed to be.

As sleep began to pull him under, Seonghwa’s hand kept moving gently through his hair. The world outside went on, but for Hongjoong, everything he needed was right there.