Chapter Text
It was nearly midnight when the last echo of music faded from the practice room. Sweat clung to every inch of Shownu’s skin, his breath heavy, but the familiar satisfaction of a good rehearsal lingered in his chest. They had been preparing for their upcoming concert, running choreography over and over until even their shadows looked tired.
“Alright, that’s it for today,” he said, voice deep but gentle. “Go shower, eat something. Don’t stay too long.”
“Hyung, you should rest too,” Minhyuk replied, slumping dramatically against the mirror. “If I move now, I might die.”
Jooheon groaned somewhere from the floor. “Then I’m already dead.”
Shownu only chuckled, shaking his head. Typical.
But out of habit, his eyes wandered — searching for one particular member.
There, in the corner, Kihyun was still crouched down, organizing water bottles and wiping the floor near the mirrors. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his lips pursed in concentration, mumbling to himself about someone spilling sports drink again.
“You don’t have to clean that,” Shownu said softly, approaching him. “The staff will handle it tomorrow.”
Kihyun didn’t even glance up. “If we leave it, the floor will be sticky tomorrow. Then you’ll complain your shoes don’t slide right, and Minhyuk will slip again.”
“…That only happened once,” Shownu tried to defend.
“Exactly,” Kihyun replied, throwing him a look. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Shownu laughed quietly. There was something comforting about that voice — sharp but warm, scolding yet soft.
It always filled the room like a melody the group couldn’t function without.
He offered to help, but Kihyun shook his head. “Leader-nim should go home first,” he said, teasing with a little grin. “I’ll lock up.”
“I’ll wait for you,” Shownu replied simply.
Kihyun blinked, a bit startled by the seriousness in his tone, then chuckled. “Suit yourself.”
So he did.
Shownu sat down on the studio bench, eyes following Kihyun’s movements — the way his hands wiped every corner, the way he hummed softly under his breath. Even in exhaustion, he looked radiant, his presence wrapping the room in quiet light.
For years, Shownu had thought of Kihyun as the group’s heart — the one who held them together through sheer willpower and affection. But that night, something inside him shifted, slowly, quietly, like the turning of a page.
Because it wasn’t just admiration anymore.
It wasn’t just gratitude for how Kihyun took care of everyone.
It was something heavier.
Something warmer.
---
The next morning, Shownu woke up early, intending to go for his usual jog. When he stepped into the kitchen, he found Kihyun already there — hair still damp from a shower, wearing an oversized hoodie, and cooking something that smelled divine.
“You’re up early,” Shownu said, rubbing his neck.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Kihyun replied. “You’ve got practice today, right? I made soup. It’s not much.”
Shownu stared at him for a moment, watching the steam rise, watching the little smile Kihyun gave without even looking at him.
It was so natural — so Kihyun — to think of others first.
“Thank you,” Shownu said, his voice softer than he meant it to be.
Kihyun turned, blinking. “Hmm?”
“Nothing.”
He smiled faintly. “It smells really good.”
Kihyun grinned proudly. “Of course. I made it.”
Shownu sat down, taking a spoonful. Warm. Comforting.
And suddenly, he realized that maybe this was what love felt like — not a dramatic spark, but something that seeped quietly into your bones until you couldn’t imagine going a day without it.
He didn’t say it out loud, of course.
He never did.
But as Kihyun fussed over whether the soup was too salty, brushing a stray hair out of his face, Shownu thought to himself:
Maybe I’ve loved him all along. I just didn’t know what to call it.