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“They all say you’re the type who never lets go once you form a bond, right? Looks like that was complete nonsense.” He sucked on his straw with that smug little tilt, leaning his whole upper body forward. If he weren’t the younger one, Wooyoung would’ve kicked him hard under the table.
Nothing happened. Even if something did, it wouldn't have been anyone else’s business.
Hard to pinpoint. One missed KakaoTalk call left hanging, a group chat photo of drunk idiots with flushed faces, and the familiar worry about that particular someone was going to spend the night throwing up in the dorm again. At some point he stopped wanting to show up at these gatherings. And if he didn’t go, he couldn’t be the default “designated carrier” anymore. Someone else would take care of it. Still, thinking about it, he couldn’t help remembering the hot breath brushing past his ear when that weight slung over his shoulder. It should’ve been familiar enough to ignore. It should’ve been. What felt unfamiliar was the unfamiliarity itself.
No one would dare intervene except a nutjob like Choi Soobin. Jealous? Anxious? Tired? Like one of those talking buttons you lay out for a pet dog. I already pulled strings with Seventeen sunbaenim ages ago, what is there for me to be jealous about? Wooyoung rolled his eyes. If I wanted to go, I could. I just didn't feel like moving.
Then why’d you come out to meet me? Wow, so I matter that much to you, hyung. Should’ve said so earlier!
Drink your milkshake and stop talking nonsense, will you?
The invitation sitting above the missed call stayed unresolved. If he didn’t reply, there’d be no second message. If it were just pouting and whining about being left on read, something that could be fixed with a little coaxing and an apology, he would’ve said something. But after hesitating forever, he couldn’t bring himself to lie.
They had never once felt awkward with each other. That was exactly why this left him helpless.
He wasn’t even sure what he was afraid of. He actually was happy for Junnie. Finding his own voice had always been a kind of thirst. When his dream came true, shouldn’t he be there to witness it? But what help could he possibly offer? Then again… wasn’t he the one who knew better than anyone what his most captivating self looked like?
Or was he?
When they hid in the fire escape of the old building flicking a lighter, the orange glow swayed in the dark. They had gotten it from an older trainee—one cigarette each. They touched their cigarettes end to end carefully, afraid of the flame dying, afraid of being caught. The lighter was in Junnie’s hand; he never shook out of nervousness. The firelight cast a huge, almost haunting shadow of him on the wall behind.
He pulled the half-burnt cigarette from his lips, the tar biting harshly at his throat. Even gasping for breath, he still leaned in again. They didn’t pull apart until the heat at the filters bit deep enough to tear their fingers loose.
He couldn’t decide what was more beautiful—those hands cupping his cheeks or the eyes that curled when Junnie smiled.
In truth, neither of them ever missed any part of the other’s “content.” Both cared too much about every version of themselves the other might overlook. Under the flash of cameras, a person goes blind. You always need someone whose eyes you can trust.
Hard to recognize. Panic came instinctively. Is it good? Wooyoung couldn't answer. It’s the version he wants to be, right? It suits you, he said; it wasn’t a lie. Just do whatever you want.
Junnie’s expression was unusually serious.
The fans will love it.
But do you like it?
Nothing happened. Even if something did, it wasn’t anyone else’s business.
Letting go was impossible. If he wanted to stay honest, maybe forgetting would be the best—but then what would trustworthy even mean? He hated distant, empty words spoken only to echo others. If he couldn’t help, silence was better.
What would he understand anyway? He shot a resentful look at the person across the table, then returned to the endlessly popping notifications on his phone. He fished two hangover drinks from his bag and pushed them across. “Make sure you give these to him when you get back to your dorm.”
Hyung, you're hilarious. I'm not touching this one.