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SEUNGHYUN POV - FLASHBACK

The music thumped through the walls like a second heartbeat. I’d found a relatively quiet corner of the party—a couch in the back, near the speakers but not right in front of them. I’d barely touched the alcohol tonight. Too many people, too many cameras, too many chances to slip up. So I just sat there, sipping something watered-down, letting the rhythm sink into me. The beat was decent. Catchy, even. Maybe I could bring it up in the studio. We could twist it into something darker, something ours.

“Hyung!~”

I looked up just in time to catch Ji Yong practically floating toward me. His smile was loose, his words even looser. Oh, god.

“Ji? How much have you had to drink?”

“Not... enough?” he giggled.

I couldn’t help but laugh with him, even as my stomach turned. He dropped next to me, too close. His head found my lap without warning, like it belonged there. My breath hitched. His hair smelled like something sweet and spicy—his cologne, probably. His cheek pressed against my thigh, and I forgot how to breathe for a second.

His voice was lower than usual, slower. Raspy in a way that made something low in my chest clench.

“Hyung.”

“Mm?”

“Are you having fun?”

I glanced around the room. People dancing, shouting, flashing lights everywhere. But here, with him like this, I didn’t need anything else.

“Yes,” I said. “A lot.”

“Good, good.” He yawned, half a smile curling on his lips. “I think I want to leave.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

He looked up at me with heavy eyes, lashes fluttering. “Pleaseeeee.”

God, how was I supposed to survive this?

“Alright,” I said quietly, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. “Let’s go.”

He nodded lazily, not moving. I had to coax him up, carefully sliding out from under him. He whined a little, then laughed. I steadied him on his feet, one arm around his waist, guiding him out into the night.

His body leaned into mine all the way to the car, all the way to his building, all the way up the elevator. He kept smiling, kept calling me “Hyung” like it meant something more. Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t. But in that moment, I let myself believe it.

And when we got to his apartment, he threw himself on the couch like a rag doll. I fetched him some water, helped him get out of his jacket. And when he looked up at me, dazed and grateful, he whispered:

“You’re always so good to me.”

His words rang in my head like a bell I couldn’t unhear. Ji Yong’s hand slipped into mine—small, warm, and slightly clammy from the alcohol—and he tugged me gently down the hallway, past closed doors and muffled basslines. My heart thudded in my chest, each beat louder than the last.

“Stay, pleaseee,” he murmured when we reached his room. He looked up at me through half-lidded eyes, a lazy, drunk smile on his face. There was something fragile about the way he said it, like he was asking me not just to stay the night, but to not disappear at all.

I swallowed hard. “O-Okay.”

I followed him inside, heart stuttering, head a little dizzy—not from drinking, but from him. Always from him.

His room was dim, the curtains only half drawn, letting in a soft halo of streetlight through the window. He flopped onto the bed, dragging me down with him. I stayed stiff for a second, unsure where to put my arms, unsure if breathing too loud would wake the storm behind my ribs.

Then, suddenly, he turned.

“Hyung,” he said, voice quieter now. The playfulness had faded a little, replaced with something curious, almost childlike.

I looked down at him, barely able to speak. “Yeah?”

“I have a question.”

My stomach tensed. “What is it?”

He looked at me directly now, really looked. His eyes were wide and glossy, but clear enough that I knew he meant it.

“Have you ever kissed a boy?”

It hit me like a slap. Not because I hadn’t thought about it—God knows I had—but because it was him asking. Ji Yong. The boy who was now lying next to me, cheeks flushed, lips pink, so painfully close I could count his lashes if I dared.

I froze. My throat felt dry. “I…”

Do I lie?

Do I joke?

Do I run?

My heart was pounding loud enough I was sure he could hear it. I glanced at the ceiling for a moment, then back down at him. He was watching me, waiting, his gaze steady even through the haze of alcohol.

“Yes,” I said finally. My voice cracked a little, but it came out.

His brows lifted just slightly, curiosity lighting up his face. “Really?”

I nodded. “Just once. A long time ago.”

“Did you like it?”

I let out a shaky breath. I could lie. I could say it meant nothing. I could tell him it was weird or awkward or forgettable.

But then I remembered why I hadn’t drunk that night. Because I knew I’d be around him. And drunk me? Drunk me would have told him everything. Sober me was already struggling.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I did.”

He was silent for a moment, then his lips quirked up in the faintest grin. “Hmm.”

“What?” I asked.

“I haven’t.”

“Haven’t what?”

“Kissed a boy.” He blinked slowly. “But I think about it a lot.”

I felt like the air was sucked out of the room. “Oh.”

“Yeah…” he trailed off, rolling onto his back. “Especially… you.”

I could have died right there.

He wasn’t even looking at me anymore, just staring at the ceiling, voice dreamy like he was speaking thoughts before they could be filtered.

He turned his head again and gave me a soft smile. “But you’d never kiss me, right?”

I stared at him. Frozen. Torn in two. Every part of me wanted to say yes, yes, I would kiss you in a heartbeat, if you let me, but—

I swallowed. “Ji…”

He closed his eyes. “’S okay. I’m just drunk.”

But I didn’t say anything.

And God help me, I leaned just a little closer.

Not close enough to kiss him.

Just close enough to hear his breathing. To watch the corners of his mouth twitch in sleep.

To whisper, after I was sure he was asleep:

“I would kiss you every day, if you let me.”

Present – Seunghyun’s POV

The soft whirring of the washing machine was oddly soothing. I sat on the cold tiles of the laundry room floor, legs bent, arms draped over my knees like a tired doll. Ji Yong’s shirt spun slowly in the machine, the fabric twisting and curling like it was dancing underwater. The soap bubbles clung to the glass window, foaming up at the corners before they slid down, disappearing into nothing.

I couldn’t stop staring at it. That stupid, now-clean shirt. As if scrubbing away the stain on it would erase the memories it soaked up with it.

You’re always so good to me.

My chest tightened. That was from the party. That night—his head in my lap, the gentle drunken smile, that damn question. Have you ever kissed a boy?

I had. Him. But he didn’t remember, did he?

The machine beeped, soft and final. I didn't move.

And then I heard it. The soft click of the bathroom door opening. Bare feet padding softly against the floorboards. I didn’t even look. I just listened. Each step felt like a heartbeat.

One. Two. Three. Four. Faint creak—his bedroom door opening.

He was waiting.

He wanted me to come.

God.

I pressed my head back against the cabinets, staring at the ceiling for a second before I stood. My hands were clammy. Ridiculous. I wasn’t the one naked in someone else’s apartment post-breakdown and emotional confession.

But still. The air felt heavy with the things we hadn’t said. The things we were starting to say. The things we used to pretend didn’t matter.

I made my way toward his room slowly, dragging my hand along the hallway wall as I walked. Not because I was lost. Just… steadying myself.

I stopped just outside his door.

And waited. Just like I had been waiting for years.

Just say my name, Ji. Just one more time.

“Seunghyun-ah.”

And that was my cue to entering.

He was already in bed, sitting up, swallowed in fabric way too big for him. His pajama shirt hung off one shoulder, sleeves drooping past his fingers. The pants barely clung to his hips. The image knocked the air out of me—he looked like the ghost of someone I used to know, and yet exactly the same.

“You’re staying, right?” he asked, eyes on mine.

My throat tightened.

“You want me to?”

His answer came instantly. “Yes. I do.”

I smiled before I could stop myself. Like a total idiot. I smiled like someone had just handed me everything I didn’t think I deserved anymore.

He forgave me, then. Or at least… something close to it.

Ji Yong handed me a folded set of clothes. “I hope the pajama fits you. I don’t want you uncomfortable.”

I took them, careful not to brush his fingers even though every part of me wanted to.

“I’ll go change,” I said, already backing toward the door.

“Okay.”

And I left the room like my feet were floating, pajamas clutched in my hands, heart loud as hell in my chest.

He wanted me to stay.

God, I was so screwed.

I had already changed—pants fit fine, a little loose at the waist. The shirt was snug on the shoulders and barely reached my wrists, but I didn’t care. It smelled like him. Faint detergent and that something I could never name but always knew was Ji Yong.

I stood in front of the mirror. My reflection looked wrong. Off. Like someone had pulled on my skin but hadn’t made it fit.

Suddenly the room felt smaller.

You’re going to hurt him.

The thought came fast. Uninvited.

Run. Now. Before you do.

I pressed my hands to the edge of the sink. My knuckles went white. I tried to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth—fuck, it wasn’t working.

He was mad at you. He cried because of you. He hated you.

My chest clenched. Everything started pulsing, like the walls were breathing with me—too fast, too loud.

You break everything you touch.

“Stop,” I whispered. “Stop. Stop.”

But the voice in my head wasn’t stopping.

You can’t stay. You shouldn’t have come. You’re a virus. You’ll ruin him again—

Knock knock.

“Hyung?”

His voice. Muffled through the door.

“...You good?”

Silence.

My head snapped up.

The mirror stopped spinning. My hands stopped shaking.

Ji Yong.

He was just outside.

Waiting for me.

I swallowed hard. My chest still ached, but something—some tiny thread inside me—pulled taut and held me together.

“I’m okay,” I managed, not trusting my voice. “Just… gimme a sec.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll be in my room.”

His footsteps faded.

And the monster in my head quieted.

For now.