Honesty

by InimitableOriginal

Summary:

“We all have a tendency to sit in our own pain because we don’t want the conflict of expressing it.”

“Historically, those conversations haven’t gone well for us, hyung,” Jisung said, and Minho felt his words like a slap.

Chan reached out and took the younger’s hand. “I know,” he said. “But that’s part of the problem, yeah? We wait until things explode, and then we don’t wait around to talk it out.”

Or...they get their shit together. Mostly.

Minho leaned against the railing of the balcony. He wasn’t a smoker…but this would be the night to start. “Hyung?”

He turned, and Jisung was standing in the door, framed by the light from inside the dorm. He looks like an angel , Minho thought, and his chest ached. “What’s up, Sung?”

“Everybody’s getting ready for bed.” 

“Okay. I’ll be in soon.”

He turned back to the view -- which wasn’t much, but it was better than the stifling feeling in the dorm -- fully expecting Jisung to leave. Instead, the younger crossed the balcony and leaned beside him. “You can talk to me, you know.” He nudged into Minho’s shoulder. “We were never really good at that, but we could try.”

Minho wanted to argue that he and Jisung used to do nothing but talk…but, admittedly, their conversations could lack depth. If they’d talked more, maybe their relationship wouldn’t have imploded the way that it did.

“Yongbok was so scared,” Minho said. “Like actually afraid of us. I never thought I would see that look on his face.”

Jisung hummed beside him. “I don’t think he was afraid of us,” he said after a moment. “I think he was overwhelmed. If his emotions are starting to hit him again, that would have to be terrifying, right?”

“I guess.” Jisung nudged him again, and Minho sighed. “Fine, you’re probably right.”

Jisung patted his arm. “We just have to wait him out. He’ll come talk when he’s ready.” Minho knew that he was right, but it didn’t make him sit in his skin any better. “Want me to get Seungmin?”

The words were soft, and Minho knew how much it cost Jisung to even ask. “If you don’t mind,” he said.

Jisung pasted on a smile that would have fooled anyone who wasn’t Minho; he patted his arm. “I’ll send him out,” he said. 

Jisung disappeared into the dorm, and moments later, Seungmin appeared. The effect of seeing the younger man was almost instantaneous: his shoulders relaxed, and the tension in his gut let go. “Hyung.”

Minho turned and opened his arms, and Seungmin rushed into them. Although Minho was shorter, he never felt like he was the one being cradled. Seungmin buried his face in Minho’s neck, breathing him in. His own worries seemed to melt away. “You all right, Meong?” he asked, running his hands up and down Seungmin’s spine.

The younger shook his head. “I’m worried about Yongbok.”

“Me too.” Minho threaded his fingers up into Seungmin’s hair. “What are you worried about?”

“Other than he hates us?” 

Minho hummed. Because he knew it wasn’t the only thing that Seungmin was worried about. He tugged on at the strands of hair wrapped around his fingers. “Out with it, Meong.”

“What if --?” He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t want --”

Minho pushed him back so that they could look at one another. “Seungmin.”

The younger bit his lip. “You know how I feel about him,” he said.

Minho did. Seungmin, like all of them, had a soft spot for Felix, but that deepened after Felix’s Hanahaki surgery. Maybe it was almost losing Felix that spurred him to realization, maybe he truly fell for Felix now that he was blunt and honest in a way that he never was before, maybe it was a lot of different things. 

All Minho knew for sure was that Seungmin had fallen in love with Felix as he was, not the ghost of who he used to be, and he was fairly certain that Felix knew about it. It was why he suggested that Minho take care of Seungmin in the first place: because he didn’t think he would be able to care for Seungmin in the way that he deserved.

The fact that Seungmin fell in love with Minho as well felt like a blessing. At first, Seungmin was a balm for the wound that opened when he and Jisung tore apart, an arrangement that helped both of them, but now?

He would always love Jisung, that wasn’t a question, but Seungmin occupied an equally large chunk of his heart.  

“It’s okay to love him, Meong,” he said. “It would be hypocritical if that bothered me.”

“Jisung loves you back,” the younger said. “If the two of you would actually pull your heads out of your asses and talk, you could end up back together.”

“Watch it.” Seungmin sank his teeth into his lip. It let Minho know just how he was struggling to keep his words polite, and Minho softened, just a little. He reached out and ran his thumb over the younger’s bottom lip. “Talk to me.”

“Hyung --”

“I’m listening, Meong,” he said.

“I just know how this all is going to end,” Seungmin said.

He sounded so utterly defeated. “What does that mean?”

Seungmin was quiet for a long time, but Minho was ready to wait him out. Sometimes the younger got like this, stuck in his own head, and it took him a while to find his words. Sometimes, Minho had to help him…but he got the feeling this wasn’t one of those times. 

“I’m a stand-in,” Seugnmin finally said. His voice was flat; his eyes had gone distant, like he was trying to detach himself from the moment. “Yongbok needed someone to treat him like he was normal after his surgery, even if he never said it, and I was there.” He glanced at Minho, and the older’s stomach jolted sickeningly. “You needed someone after your breakup, to make things easier, and I was there.” He took a breath. “But Yongbok will work things out with Hyunjin eventually, and he won’t need me anymore. And you --” Seungmin’s eyes grew wet. “You and Jisung are soulmates.”

Minho felt like he was going to choke. “Seungmin --”

“You’re not my replacement.” He and Seungmin turned at the same time. Jisung was standing in the door frame again. His face was twisted into an angry snarl. “Don’t think so lowly of yourself. Or of hyung.”

Seungmin sputtered. “I don’t --!”

“But that’s what you’re saying,” Jisung argued. “That you’re temporary.” 

Minho watched as Seungmin’s expression clouded, filled with anguish. How long have you been holding this in? What did it say about Minho that he couldn’t recognize it? “You’ll always be in his heart,” the younger said.

Jisung shrugged. “He’ll always be in mine as well, but it doesn’t mean we have to be together or that we’re even good for each other.” His eyes flicked to Minho, and he smiled, soft and sad. “Hyung and I get too caught up in each other. We aren’t good at separating and being whole people without each other, and while I used to think that was romantic, I can see how unhealthy that is now.”

It felt like a door that had been left cracked open finally closed. When Minho had pictured this moment, he thought that he would feel agony, but besides a gentle, mournful throb in his chest, he was okay. “Jisung, go inside, okay? Let me and Seungmin talk?”

A tear dropped down Jisung’s cheek, but he nodded. “Okay, hyung.” He reached up and ruffled Seungmin’s hair, quick and affectionate. “Don’t get caught in your head, okay? Trust me.”

Then, he was gone, and Seungmin was standing in front of him practically gnawing on his bottom lip. “You honestly think that you’re a stand-in, Meong?” 

Seungmin shrugged. “I just thought --” He sucked in a breath, like something was squeezing at his throat. “I thought when Jisung was better, you would…you know…go back to him.”

I am a failure . That was all Minho could think. He must have given Seungmin some sign that this wasn’t as important to Minho as it was to him. Well, that changes right the fuck now . He held out a hand. “Come with me.”

“Hyung, it’s not a big deal, really --”

“Meong.” His tone had gone flat. “Now.”

Seungmin stared at him for a split-second, deliberating, and then he put his hand in Minho’s, allowing the older to tug him inside. The living room was empty, and when they started up the hall, Minho noticed that Seungmin’s door was closed. 3racha is gonna owe Seungmin a new bed , he thought absently, but he didn’t voice it out loud. He didn’t want Seungmin distracted. 

He led the younger into his room and shut the door behind them. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked. “Huh?”

Seungmin’s eyes were on the carpet beneath their feet. His hands hung at his sides, fingers digging into the edges of his t-shirt. “Whatever you want, hyung,” he murmured.

It was the perfect answer…but not what Minho wanted today. From the beginning, everything between them had been a game. A push and pull: brat and tamer. It was something that Seugnmin needed -- it helped him relax in a way that nothing else did -- but maybe it wasn’t all that he needed. 

Minho cupped Seungmin’s face, keeping his touch tender. “How can I show you what you mean to me?” he asked. 

“I know how you feel, hyung.”

“Clearly, if you think I’m just amusing myself with you, then you don’t,” Minho said. “So, what can I do to make sure that you know how much I love you?”

Seungmin blinked. He looked absolutely gobsmacked. “Well…saying it kind of helps.”

Saying --? “I’ve told you that I love you before.”

The younger shook his head. “You’ve implied it,” he said. “You’ve told me that I’m important to you.” A soft smile curled the corner of his mouth. “You’ve said that you could feel me in your heartbeat. But actually saying the words?” He shook his head.

Minho ruffled his hair, so full of affection that he was afraid he might burst. “You couldn’t have deciphered any of that? I know how clever you are, Meong.”

The small smile on Seungmin’s face fell away. “Words matter, hyung,” he said. “I thought since you’d only ever said those words to Jisung before…that you might not be interested in saying them to me.”

Oh…fuck. How could he be so dumb? “I love you,” Minho said, cringing at how utterly unromantic he sounded. “I’m in love with you.”

Seungmin’s breath stuttered; his eyes grew wet. “I love you too, hyung,” he said. 

Minho knew that, but Seungmin was right, actually hearing the words sent a bolt of lightning through his veins. He wasn’t sure who moved first, but they were suddenly kissing, deep and wet and perfect, and when Seungmin bullied him onto his back on the bed, Minho didn’t take control like he normally would.

Seungmin pulled out of the kiss, seemingly surprised by his position between Minho’s thighs, and a look of uncertainty touched his brow. “You can have whatever you want,” Minho assured him softly. “No games tonight, unless it's something you need.”

“Can I--?” He swallowed hard. Minho could see his Adam's apple bob. “Can I take care of you?”

Minho had expected for him to ask to top at some point: it was the one thing they hadn’t done, and even he could admit that he’d been holding back because it was something that he and Jisung had done pretty much exclusively. Jisung had bottomed maybe a half a dozen times in their entire relationship, and he just…didn’t care for it at all. He’d wanted to like it for Minho’s sake, but he didn’t, and Minho was ambivalent enough to not care who did what when it came to Jisung. He loved having Jisung inside of him.

Minho hadn’t been sure that he was ready to let someone else intrude on the last bit of real estate that had only ever belonged to Jisung.

But instead of flat-out asking to fuck him, Seungmin asked to take care of him instead. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, of course.” Seungmin grinned and leaned down and pressed their mouths together again. He was eager, a touch sloppy, and Minho smiled into the kiss. “Slow down, Meong,” he murmured against the younger’s mouth. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Seungmin whined softly, and Minho had to tamp down on the need to coo at how cute his puppy was. Tonight wasn’t one for games, he’d promised, and he wanted Seungmin to do whatever it was that he wanted. Whatever he needed. 

Because maybe it was something that Minho needed too.

Seungmin pushed his shirt up as far as it would go before he leaned down to mouth at Minho’s chest. His tongue, wet and warm, flicked over Minho’s nipple, and he groaned at the zing of sensation that danced down his spine. “You like that, hyung?” Seungmin asked with such genuine interest that it was cute. 

Where Minho might have schooled his expression before, he let himself smile wide. “Yeah, Meong, I do.” He threaded his fingers into Seungmin’s dark hair, scritching softly at his scalp.

Seungmin preened, and then his mouth was back, worshiping Minho’s chest, sending tendrils of pleasure through the older’s body. Minho was achingly hard by the time Seungmin reached for the zip on his jeans. 

Minho lifted his hips and allowed Seungmin to pull his jeans and boxers down. He expected Seungmin to strip as well, but the younger settled, fully clothed, on his belly between Minho’s thighs. “Wha --?” The question broke off in a moan when Seungmin took his cock in his mouth.

Seungmin swallowed Minho nearly completely down his throat, let the older feel how he struggled to take him in for just a second, before coming up to breathe. He grabbed Minho’s hand and put it against his throat. “Feel, hyung,” he said, voice raspy.

What the --? But then Seungmin took him back down, and Minho groaned as he felt himself sliding down Seungmin’s throat. “Holy shit .” 

Seungmin let out a happy, gurgling sound, and it made him flutter around Minho, bowing the older’s spine. The younger held it for a second before sliding back, taking in a lungful of air. “You could fuck my throat, hyung. If you want.”

Minho carded his fingers through his hair. “Is that what you want?” he asked.

“I want to make you feel good.”

He could just squeeze this boy’s cheeks. “You do, Meong,” he promised. “I feel so good right now.” He hauled Seungmin up and kissed him soundly. “You know what would be good?”

“Huh?” Seungmin breathed.

“If you were inside me.”

Seungmin sucked in a breath, like he hadn’t expected Minho to actually say it. “You’re sure?”

Minho nodded. “Please.”

He expected Seungmin to protest a little more, or ask again if Minho was sure; instead, he kicked off his jeans and underwear before he  reached over and dug into Minho’s side table and grabbed their lube. It was incredibly attractive to watch him coat his fingers and reach between Minho’s thighs.

Minho felt Seungmin’s fingertips against his rim, petting and pressing, and a shiver ran up his spine. “ Seungmin ,” he whimpered as the younger’s fingers breached him.

“So tight, hyung,” Seungmin muttered. His fingers press against Minho’s walls, stretch him and make room for himself. Little ah ah ah ’s leaked from the older’s throat as Seungmin toyed with him. When he curled his finger, brushing against Minho’s prostate, the older cried out, surprising them both. “Are you okay?”

He trembled with pure want , and he clutched at the younger, needing him closer. “Please,” he murmured, shivering uncontrollably. “Please, Seungmin, I need you.”

Seungmin looked absolutely thunderstruck; the smile that spread across his face was absolutely beautiful. He pressed kisses to Minho’s face: his cheeks, the corner of his mouth, his chin. “I’ve got you, hyung,” he promised, pressing in a second finger, swallowing the whines and whimpers that came from Minho’s mouth. 

Fuck , how could he forget how good this felt? He rode Seungmin’s fingers; pleasure knotted in his gut, licked up his spine. “M’ready,” he moaned. “ Please .”

Seungmin’s expression flickered, like he was going to ask if Minho was sure, but then he gently pulled his fingers out and reached for the lube again. “Can you turn over?” Seungmin asked, voice gruff. “I want --”

He wants to watch himself fuck me , Minho thought and shivered. He couldn’t blame the younger; it was one of his favorite things too. With shaking limbs, Minho rolled onto his belly, bringing his knees up so that he was presented for Seungmin. It was a position that he’d put the younger in more than a dozen times, and even as embarrassment squirmed in his belly, the deep groan that eked from Seungmin’s throat was well worth it.

Minho inhaled sharply when he felt the blunt head of Seungmin’s cock against his rim, and he mewled when the younger pushed inside. His lungs locked up, and Seungmin petted at his flank. “Breathe, hyung,” he murmured.

He tried, but everything in his brain was Seungmin Seungmin Seungmin . Who needed to breathe when his synapses were turning into cotton candy? Minho wiggled back against him. “Move,” he begged. “Need you to move.”

Seungmin rolled his hips, and it kicked the air from Minho’s lungs. “Oh, fuck ,” the younger groaned, thrusting eagerly, sloppily, for just a moment, as if he was too excited to be exacting. It would be something that, in any other situation, Minho would tease him for, but now, it just made him cry out, gripping the sheets beneath him.

The younger took a breath, calmed himself for a second, before his hips found a rhythm that was steady, deep, and perfect. Minho couldn’t get enough air into his lungs to make any sound. Instead, he rocked himself back into Seungmin, meeting his thrusts, whining all the while. 

“You look so perfect like this,” Seungmin murmured. His hands ran over the long slope of Minho’s back. His hips quickened, and Minho practically wailed at the way he was battering into his prostate. “So fucking sweet, hyung,” he panted.

Minho was going to implode. His body buzzed with the kind of addictive tension that came before a really good orgasm. The want to wrap a hand around his cock was there…but Seungmin fucking him through the mattress was going to get him there. Soon . He just needed a little more.

“ Meong ,” he moaned, rocking back into Seungmin’s thrusts harder now. He felt restless, unsure of what would tip him over the edge, and that sweet tension kept right on building and building.  

Seungmin’s hand smoothed up his back; his fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of Minho’s neck, and on his next thrust inward, Seungmin tightened his grip, yanking Minho upwards. 

That spark of pain shot down his spine and down to where Seungmin’s cock stretched him wide. “Holy fuck --!” He tumbled into his orgasm, crying out as the younger rode him through it, drawing out the sensation for longer than Minho thought possible.

He collapsed into the ruined sheets, whimpering as Seungmin kept fucking him in that same heady, deep fashion. It was too much, but Minho loved the sharp painpleasure that rocked through him. 

“ Close ,” Seungmin panted. “M’close, hyung.”

Dully, Minho realized that so was he. “Meong,” he groaned, wriggling back against him. “ Please .” Seungmin’s rhythm faltered, and Minho practically wailed. “No, no, no --” 

Seungmin chuckled, low and mean, and his hand tightened in Minho’s hair as his hips sped up again. Minho let out a deep, wounded sound. “Aren’t you being a little greedy, hyung?” he asked. “Gearing up to cum again when I haven’t yet at all?”

Minho sank his teeth into his bottom lip in an attempt to keep another whine from leaking from his throat. He couldn’t string a thought together, let alone put together a response to a question that had his stomach twisting and turning in heady shame. 

Seungmin seemed to understand his struggle. He kept his grip tight, and he sped up the rocking of his hips again. “It’s okay, hyung,” Seungmin said, laughing breathlessly when Minho cried out. “I don’t mind you being greedy tonight.”

Seungmin drew him up onto his knees, changing the angle of his thrusts so that the pleasurepain of overstimulation became almost too much. A scream built in his throat, and Seungmin clapped a hand over his mouth, muffling Minho’s cries. 

“Touch yourself,” Seungmin panted against the older’s neck. Minho shook his head. It would be too much: he was so sensitive . The younger hummed softly. “Do it, hyung,” he murmured, digging his teeth into the back of the older’s neck. “For me.”

Trembling, Minho wrapped a hand around himself, but it was hard to coordinate stroking himself with the heavy thwack thwack thwack of Seungmin fucking into him. 

“You look so pretty, hyung,” the younger murmured. “I’ve never seen you so fucking desperate before.”

Desperation didn’t begin to describe the way he was drowning in pleasure. His body ached in all the best ways. Every time Seungmin bottomed out, it was like lightning flashed behind Minho’s eyes. When Seungmin’s hand dropped from his mouth to bat away the hand Minho was half-heartedly jerking himself off with, Minho had to bite down on his tongue to keep from screaming. 

Minho’s second orgasm hit him like an 18-wheeler, and he lost track of what was up and down or left and right…and in the middle of that, he heard Seungmin cry out before he painted Minho’s insides with warmth. 

They slumped into the soiled sheets together, breathing hard. “I love you, hyung,” Seungmin said, peppering his shoulders with kisses. 

Minho hummed, utterly wrung out. “Love you too, Meong.” He turned so that he could look the younger in the face. “You know you’re in for it next time, right?”

Seungmin’s answering grin was pleased. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Eventually, Seungmin pulled Minho out of the bed and into the shower. In a way, letting Seungmin wash him was even more intimate than what they’d done in Minho’s bed. Allowing the younger to see him in such a state made him feel like he was on shaky ground. But with each kiss they passed back and forth, Minho found himself smiling wider and wider. “You look high,” Seungmin teased, but his smile was stretched just as comically big.

After their shower, they came back to find the bed stripped. The soiled sheets were in a heap on the floor, and Felix was lying on clean ones, knees drawn up to his chest. “Yongboks?” Minho breathed. It shouldn’t  feel so surreal -- Felix and Seungmin often curled up in his bed -- but he hadn’t seen Felix with such a…vulnerable expression on his face in so long.

Felix held out his arms. “Hold me? Please?” he asked. His voice was hoarse from crying, and even from the door, Minho could see that he was puffy from the same.

He and Seungmin nearly tripped over themselves getting to the bed, but they wrapped Felix up between them. His body trembled against Minho’s chest. “Do you want to talk?” he murmured against the younger’s blond hair.

Felix shook his head. “Can we just lay here?”

“Of course,” Seungmin murmured from Felix’s other side. “We can do anything you want.”   

*Jisung -- an hour before*

Jisung shut the balcony door behind him, and while he left a part of his heart outside with Minho, he felt…freer, in a way. His chest ached because he and Minho both knew that they’d let each other go, finally, but it was a good thing. He and Seungmin deserved the space to be truly in love.

And Chan and Changbin deserved more from Jisung. They’d been beyond patient, letting him play voyeur for months, but he knew that they wanted more…and so did he.  

“Baby?” He looked over at Chan and Changbin, who were sitting at the kitchen table, playing cards spread between them. “Are you okay?”

Jisung opened his mouth to say ‘yes’ but then shook his head. “Will you come with me?” he asked. “Both of you?”

Chan was on his feet before Jisung had even finished the question; Changbin followed after him. Jisung held out a hand for each of them and then led them down the hall. Hyunjin and Jeongin had retreated to his room; Felix’s door was firmly locked.

Jisung dragged them into Seungmin. Sue me , he thought. He had given Seungmin and Minho as much of a blessing as he was ever going to; he was allowed to be a little petty.

Or…not allowed, but --

Whatever , he thought. I’m being a petty bitch using his bedroom; I don’t care . He could feel bad about tomorrow. Tonight, he just wanted to be alone, behind a locked door, with the two people who had helped to put all of his broken pieces back together.

“Sung, what’s going on?” Chan asked when Jisung threw the lock on the door. 

“You’re scaring us a little,” Changbin added.

“Minho and Seungmin are in love.” 

Chan’s frown deepened. “Baby, I’m --”

He held up a hand, cutting off the older man. “I don’t need to be comforted,” he said. “I knew they were falling in love; I’m not stupid.” 

Changbin crossed his arms over his chest. “Then, what are we doing in here, Jisung-ah?” 

Jisung’s gaze dropped to the ground. This doesn’t have to be hard. It was just Chan and Changbin; they wouldn’t judge him for whatever he had to say. They weren’t going to reject him.

Probably, anyway.

But there was a vast difference between Jisung being a weird observer in their relationship and him actually being a part of it. Maybe they won’t --

Chan thumped him on the forehead. “Stop spiraling,” he said. “Take a breath and talk to us.”

Jisung huffed out a laugh, but he sucked in a lungful of air through his nose and let it out through his mouth. Then, he did it again. When his pulse wasn’t trying to pound its way out of the big artery in his neck, Jisung tried again. “I’ve been hanging on to ‘someday’ with Minho-hyung,” he said. “Maybe, someday, he’ll take me back; maybe, someday, I’ll be good enough for him.” Jisung’s lip trembled, and he sank his teeth into it. Now wasn’t the time to cry. “But I don’t want to waste my time waiting for someday.”

Chan was starting to look nervous, as much as he was trying to hide it. “What does that mean, baby?”

When Changbin moved to take Chan’s hand, Jisung realized that Chan wasn’t the only one who was nervous. Jisung and Changbin had never talked about their feelings for each other before: he had assumed that Changbin was capitulating to what Chan wanted. But what if that wasn’t the case? What if they both --?

Warmth spread through Jisung’s chest. He could do this. 

“I’ve been neglecting you,” Jisung said. “You’ve opened your hearts to me, and I haven’t done the same for you, and that’s not fair.”

“We would never ask you for what you can’t give,” Chan said. 

“But I can,” Jisung insisted. “I want to.”

Changbin was starting to look frustrated, and Jisung couldn’t figure out why . “What are you saying, Sung?” he demanded.

“Touch me,” he said. Jisung had said back when this started that they weren’t allowed to touch him, outside of the normal, casual touches they all shared, unless he said otherwise. Jisung had kept himself largely outside of their sexual escapades: besides that first time while on tour, he had mostly played voyeur and stuck around for cuddles afterward.  

They never begged for more or pushed Jisung’s boundaries, never questioned why he needed to back off a little, and that was the very thing that made Jisung fall for them in the first place. 

“Are you sure, baby?” Chan asked, and he glanced at Changbin. He looked afraid. Because of Jisung . Ice water slipped down the youngest's spine; all that lovely warmth in his chest dimmed.  

Changbin let go of their hyung’s hand and looped his arm instead around his waist, bringing him close. “Don't do something that you're going to take back,” he said, looking at Jisung for the first time like he didn't trust him, like he couldn't believe Jisung had overstepped like this. “This isn’t like what happened while we were on tour, okay? If we take this step, and then you regret it later it --” Changbin shook his head. “It would be better if we didn’t.” 

I fucked up. Jisung tried to ignore the sting from the rejection, but he couldn't. He was embarrassed, and his chest felt flayed open. 

Fundamentally, he understood where they were coming from: Jisung wasn’t a safe bet. He had been loudly and vehemently hung up on someone else, and getting involved with him could leave them at a huge risk for heartbreak. Of course, keeping things as they were made the most sense. No matter if the thought made Jisung's guts twist into knots.

Fuck . Jisung was being selfish again. Chan and Changbin weren't obligated to be with him. They hadn't made him any promises. 

His eyes began to burn, and he rubbed at them furiously, begging all the gods in Heaven not to let him cry in front of them. “I --” He cleared his throat. “I understand,” he said softly. “We don't…we don't have to do this. It's fine.” He reached behind him and unlocked the door, keeping his face down as the first tears began to fall. “You guys should stay here. Seungmin won't mind. I'll stay on the couch.”

They called his name, but Jisung slipped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. He was met with Minho's sex noises. Jesus fucking Christ . He needed something heavy to fall on his head, erase this whole fucking night. 

Tears flooded his eyes, and Jisung stumbled back down the hall to the living room half-blind. The blankets that Jeongin and Seungmin had fetched from the closet were still folded on the couch. He grabbed the first one on the pile, wrapped it around himself, and curled up in the corner.  

It was terribly dramatic of him, Jisung was aware, but he just couldn’t be damned to care. He felt like his heart had sunk into the depths of his stomach, and he could hear Minho and Seungmin going at it, loud and clear. It was like they were mocking his heartache. 

Jisung clenched his eyes shut and tried to force himself to sleep. You’ll wake up tomorrow, and this will be no big deal , he told himself. He’d go back to being everyone’s friend and figure out a way to seal all of the holes in his heart. Maybe he’d be in good enough working order for someone someday down the line; until then, he would keep working with Dr. Park. 

I’ll call for a session tomorrow , he decided. That would be the safest thing to do. 

Sheer force of will must have won out and allowed him to fall asleep because when someone touched his shoulder an unknown amount of time later, he came back to consciousness with a jolt. “Wha--?” He froze when he realized that Changbin was sitting beside him. He sat up. “What do you need, hyung?”

Changbin’s expression was guarded. “Chan thinks I ran you off when you were about to say something important, and now, he’s mad at me.”

Jisung winced and drew the blanket more tightly around his shoulders. “I didn’t mean for you two to fight.”

Changbin nodded, and the pair sat in silence for a long moment. “I can’t let you hurt him, Jisung,” he finally said hoarsely. Emotion had clogged his throat. “Channie has to be strong for everyone else, so I have to be strong for him. Do you understand?”

He did. Jisung understood better than anyone just how much Chan relied on Changbin. “I understand why you think he wouldn’t be safe with me,” he said, sounding as hollow as he felt. “Why would you? I fucked up one relationship spectacularly, and then treated you guys like my own private peep show for months. I wouldn’t trust me either.” 

Changbin’s eyebrows drew together. “That’s not --” He reached out and touched Jisung’s cheek, bringing the younger’s eyes to his. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Sungie. I know you wouldn’t do anything to purposely hurt hyung…but I can’t let you do something impulsive because you’re sad about Minho. You punishing yourself by finally really being with us would break something in Chan, and I can’t let that happen.”

It was worse than he thought. Changbin genuinely thought that Jisung was offering himself to them, asking to join them, as a form of self-punishment. How selfish did he think Jisung was? “Okay,” he said. “Message received.” Jisung rolled over so that he was facing the couch. “Tell Chan-hyung that we’re fine. I won’t punish myself anymore.” He didn’t expect Changbin to haul him back around, and something about being manhandled set off a fireball in his gut. “What do you want!?” he demanded, clearly surprising the older.  

Changbin blinked, absolutely gobsmacked. “Sung --”

Jisung shook off his hands. “You can’t let me hurt Chan, okay, I get it. I should thank you for allowing me to be a weird little leech on your relationship for as long as you did…but it’s done now, okay? I can’t --” He was crying again, and he couldn’t hide it this time. “I want more, but if you’re not comfortable with that, then I need it all to end.”

Dr. Park would be proud: Jisung was setting a boundary and prioritizing his own mental health. It was one of the things that was hardest for him, or any idol really, but he was getting better at it. She didn’t mention that it would hurt like hell, though.

Jisung didn’t realize just how badly he was sobbing until Changbin gathered him into his arms. “Sungie,” he hushed him softly, rocking him back and forth. “It’s okay, yeobo.” He tipped Jisung’s chin up and pressed their mouths together for the first time. Jisung gasped but quickly melted into the older’s arms. 

Changbin kissed him for a long time, until he was lightheaded. When the older slid back, panting just as much, Jisung felt a stab of confusion in the lovely haze. “Wha--?”

“You want to be with us,” Changbin said. “For real, not just because you can't have Minho-hyung.”

Jisung stared at him. Was he just now figuring that out? “Yeah.” Duh .

Changbin leaned forward and kissed him again, soft and sweet. “I'm sorry that I didn't believe you earlier. Channie and I talked about it so many times before, but --”

Oh, I see . “But I kept you waiting so long that you lost hope,” Jisung filled in for him.

Changbin looked sheepish. “I just didn't want for Chan and I to get our hearts broken.”

Jisung cringed. “I'm sorry.”

The older shook his head. “ I’m sorry, Sungie,” he said. “We said we weren't going to push you, and then I got so impatient that when you did come to us, I pushed you away.”

Jisung realized that they could go back and forth here for hours, and he didn't want that. There was still a thread of hurt in his belly, but overwhelmingly, he just wanted to be in their arms. “I didn’t even realize that you felt that way about me,” he said softly. 

The tips of Changbin’s ears turned red. “Well…I mean…” He nodded. “Yeah, I do, Sung. Is that okay?”

Jisung reached out and cupped the older’s cheek. “I think we’ll need to work on communicating a little better,” he said. “So, we don’t give Channie-hyung too many gray hairs.”

Changbin chuckled, just a touch breathless. “So, does that mean what I think it does?”

Jisung wasn’t sure who moved first, but their mouths met somewhere in the middle. After seeing him so often with Chan, Jisung assumed Changbin would take the lead, but he was pleasantly surprised to see that he yielded just as easily. “You know that I don’t bottom, right?” Jisung asked when he drew back. “It’s not some macho bullshit thing. I just…don’t like it.”

Changbin just smiled. “That’s not a problem.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Chan’s pretty much a --”

“A power bottom,” Jisung said with a laugh.

The older’s smile grew wide. “Don’t let him hear that.”

“Too late.” 

They turned to find Chan standing at the mouth of the hall, arms crossed over his chest. His hair was mussed, as if he’d been trying to sleep. Jisung smiled: this was his favorite version of Chan. Sleepy and a little angry, yeah, but he was utterly adorable. 

“If the shoe fits, hyung,” he said softly, ignoring the little indignant squeak, before he looked back at Changbin. “You were saying?”

Changbin flushed. Not just his ears, but his cheeks too. “While Chan’s, you know, I’m --”

“He’s less picky,” Chan said, a little more warmly now.

Oh . Heat flooded Jisung’s chest. “Great,” he squeaked out. “That’s…that’s good.”

“So, you two talked?” Chan asked. He was trying to sound neutral, but Jisung could hear the veiled hope in his voice. Poor Channie , he thought. We made him so nervous . 

Jisung nodded. “We did.” He wriggled out of his blanket burrito and stood up, only stumbling a little. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine, baby.”

“It’s not,” Jisung insisted. “What I should have said earlier is that I realized that I’m falling in love with you, and I want to be with you if that’s what you want.” He nodded towards Changbin. “What you both want. I’m just…shitty at words.”

“You write songs for a living,” Chan pointed out.

Jisung’s eyebrow cocked upward. “Seriously? That’s what you took away from all of that?”

Chan shook his head. “I’m just processing the rest of it.” 

Jisung’s heart dropped again, but he forced himself to nod. We need to get better at communicating , he reminded himself. His heart couldn’t take him jumping to conclusions anymore. “Take all the time you need, hyung. I’m sorry I dropped it on you guys like that.”

Chan stood for thirty seconds, and then he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Jisung. “You mean it?” he asked, and although Jisung couldn’t see his face, he could hear how choked the older’s voice was. 

Jisung wrapped his arms around Chan’s broad back. “I mean it,” he said before drawing back. “Don’t be mad at Changbin-hyung. He just wants to protect you.”

Changbin stood up. “He’s allowed to be mad. I did exactly what he said: I chased you off before you could say something important.”

Jisung sighed. They were going to talk themselves into circles at this rate, and that was the furthest from what he wanted. The conversation that he and Hyunjin had after the older got back together with Jeongin came to mind. “Can we just skip this?” he asked. 

Both of his hyungs looked confused. “What?” Chan asked.

“All of…this,” Jisung said, gesturing at the air between them. “The hurt feelings and  forgiveness and talking things to death. I know we need to talk about all of this…but for now, can we just skip it?”

Changbin stared at him for a moment, and then a smile cracked. “Are you pulling a Yang Jeongin on us right now?” he asked.

Jisung smirked and cocked his eyebrow. “Maybe. Is it working?”

Chan and Changbin shared a look, and then Chan reached down, grabbed Jisung under the thighs, and hauled him up. Jisung squealed and clutched at Chan’s shoulders. “It’s definitely working,” Chan said, and he carried Jisung back down the hall to Seungmin’s room with Changbin trailing behind them. 

Jisung and Chan were kissing by the time Changbin had the door shut and locked again. His fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of Chan’s neck; he licked into the older’s mouth and danced their tongues together.

When they broke apart, Changbin gripped Jisung by the back of the neck and turned him so that their mouths met. Jisung groaned softly: there was something heady about being pinned between them like this. 

“What do you want, baby?” Chan asked. His breath brushed Jisung’s ear, making the youngest shiver. “We’ll do anything.”

Heat speared through his gut. What did he want? Jisung shivered: he wanted everything all at once. The better question was where did he want to start?

“I want you in my mouth,” he said finally and dropped to his knees with a soft thud .

“Who --?” Changbin started to ask, but his question was cut off in a soft groan when Jisung reached out and cupped them both.

Jisung practically purred. “So hard for me already,” he said, grinding his palms against his hyungs’ clothed cocks. He peeked up at them, and the blood rushed to his groin: both of the older men were staring down at him like they were starving. “Get naked,” Jisung demanded.

He smirked watching them practically rip off their clothes, leaning back enough so that they didn’t inadvertently knee him in the face. As they yanked off shirts and pushed down pants, Jisung watched with the knowledge that he would touch this time. That he would allow them to touch him. 

Jisung licked his lips, and Chan let out a punched-out groan. As if seeing the barest peek of the youngest’s tongue was enough to set him off. “ Baby ,” he whined.

Jisung tutted softly. “Be patient, hyung.”

Changbin’s fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently. “He’s been patient, yeobo,” he reminded softly. “Don’t make him wait anymore.”

Glancing up at Chan, seeing the long line of Chan’s body practically trembling as he held himself back, Jisung couldn’t agree more. He let Changbin guide him to the older man and, steadying himself with a hand on Chan’s hip, swallowed the older’s cock down his throat. 

All three of them groaned.

The weight of Chan on his tongue, the way he stretched his jaw to accommodate him, made Jisung’s head swim. He bobbed his head, pushing himself to take more and more of Chan’s cock until he felt fit to burst. “ Fuck ,” he heard Changbin swear. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t have a gag reflex.”

Jisung preened at the word, losing himself in the scent of Chan’s skin, the salt-sweet taste of his precome. After he worked the older up and up and up , he pulled back, wrapping a hand around him so that he could continue to stroke him.

He shifted and, without a word of warning, sank his mouth down on Changbin, who cried out loudly enough that Jisung worried that they’d wake everyone else. He pulled back enough to shush him. “You got to be a little quieter than that, hyung,” he chastised before swallowing him again. Changbin was thicker than Chan -- he stretched Jisung’s jaw to the max -- but he didn't hit the same depth in Jisung’s throat. Between the two of them, he got the best of both worlds. 

He felt a thumb brush against his bottom lip. “You look so good like that, baby,” Chan said in awe. “He’s stretching your mouth so much.”

Jisung groaned. His head felt fuzzy around the edges, and he gave himself over to giving his hyungs pleasure, alternating between stroking and sucking them, listening to their moans and praises.

He was so hard, pressed against the fly of his jeans, but when he tried to reach down and palm himself, to give himself some sort of relief, Jisung was suddenly hauled to his feet. “But, I wasn't --” he protested blearily.

Chan shushed him with a kiss. “Our turn, baby,” he murmured. “Please?”

It took him two tries to swallow and even longer to force our, “Okay.”

“Are you sure, Sungie?” 

He nodded. “I’m a little nervous,” he admitted, flushing. “I don’t want to embarrass myself.” His eyes roved over both of his hyungs, and he throbbed in his jeans. “I’m not going to last long.” The last was a whispered confession; Jisung turned pink with shame.

Chan’s expression was so soft that Jisung was afraid that he’d melt into a puddle. He cupped the back of Jisung’s neck, pulled him in for a sweet kiss. “It’s not a competition, baby,” he murmured. “We just want you to feel amazing.”

He kissed Jisung again, and he and Changbin swept him towards the bed, yanking his clothes off as they went. Jisung ended up leaning against Changbin’s bare chest with Chan seated in his lap. He was trembling as Changbin sucked marks into his shoulders, along the edges of the “safe” zone on his neck, as Chan worked himself open. 

“He feels so good inside, Jisungie,” Changbin murmured in his ear. “So hot and tight. I’ve fucked him almost every day for months -- he’s that insatiable -- and I still almost lose my shit when I first push inside.”

Jisung started to shiver all the more. His hands gripped at Chan’s thighs, uncaring if he left bruises. Hoping that he did. “Don’t tease him, Binnie,” Chan panted, spreading himself with three fingers.

“Then hurry up, jagi,” Changbin bit back.

A few moments later, Chan deemed himself ready and raised up on his knees. He wrapped a hand around Jisung’s cock, slathering it with the lube they pilfered from Seungmin’s drawer and positioning it against his rim. Chan’s eyes locked on his. “Breathe, baby,” he said.

Chan sank down, taking the head of Jisung’s cock inside him, and Jisung sank his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from wailing. Changbin was right: he felt so good stretched around him. That feeling only intensified as Chan sank down until his ass met the cradle of Jisung’s groin. “If you move,” he panted up at Chan, “this will be over in about two seconds.” Chan giggled, and his inner muscles squeezed around Jisung. “That, too!” the youngest yelped, hips bucking up involuntarily. “ Christ , hyung!” 

“Sorry,” Chan murmured, sweeping the hair off of Jisung’s forehead. “You just feel so good, baby.” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to Jisung’s.

Jisung focused on Chan’s lips on his; it allowed him the breathing room to ease back from the edge. When he didn’t feel like he was rushing headlong into an orgasm, he pulled back. “I’m good.”

Chan smirked. “Want me to ride you, baby?”

Isn’t that what you were going to do? Jisung bit back the bratty replay -- he’d hear no end to it from Changbin -- and nodded instead. “Please, hyung. Make me feel good.”

Changbin’s teeth nipped at his throat, harder than he’d done previously. “Don’t use your cuteness to get what you want.”

Jisung leaned his head back enough to bop a kiss to his hyung’s chin. “What’s the point of being this cute if I don’t use it sometime?”

Chan planted his hands on Jisung’s chest. “You asked for it, Sungie,” he said and began to roll his hips in a delicious grind that sent fire up the youngest’s spine. Chan’s inner muscles squeezed around him, milking him, as he began to ride him properly. 

Jisung couldn’t breathe for the pleasure that seemed to be crushing his lungs. Chan was beautiful all of the time, and he’d seen Chan ride Changbin enough times to know just how pretty their leader looked while riding cock. But there was something breathtaking about staring up at Chan as he drove them both into outer space. 

Between Chan trying to pull his soul out through his cock and Changbin grinding, helpless, against his back, Jisung’s head went fuzzy. “Holy fuck,” he moaned. “Holy fuck, holy fuck .”

Changbin chuckled. “Told you.”

Jisung didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he reeled Chan in and kissed him, wet and messy and desperate, until the eldest began to lose some of that pretty rhythm that he’d established. “ Jisung ,” he moaned. 

“He’s close, yeobo,” Changbin murmured in his ear.

The youngest reached to wrap a hand around Chan’s cock, aching and red, but on second thought, he grabbed his hips instead. Jisung held Chan in place and, planting his feet on the bed, fucked up into him. Their hyung wailed at the way Jisung thrust over his prostate again and again. “Cum for me, Channie,” he begged, practically pulling the eldest down on his cock. 

He watched Chan’s face scrunch a second before the eldest’s inner muscles clamped down around him. The first ropes of Chan’s cum painted his stomach, and Jisung spiraled over the edge with a cry, cumming harder than he had in months.

Chan collapsed against him, panting hard, and Jisung rubbed at his back absently, humming at the feel of their bodies pressed so closely together. He’d been denying them all this feeling for so long: guilt would lodge itself in his lungs if he let it. Instead, he tipped his face to look at Changbin; his back was growing tacky with his hyung’s release, and the older looked just as winded as he and Chan felt. “Are you okay?”

Changbin pressed his lips to Jisung’s temple. “I’m perfect, yeobo.” He glanced down and grimaced. “Though…we may owe Seungmin a new mattress. He’ll never sleep in here again if we tell him what happened.”

Jisung chuckled. “Worth it.”

Chan brought his head up from where it was buried in Jisung’s neck. “Definitely,” he agreed dreamily. 

*Minho*

Waking up in the morning, Minho was a little shocked that Felix was still lodged between him and Seungmin. He looked at the blonde, and he startled a little when their eyes met: Felix hadn’t slept a wink. “You should have woken one of us up,” Minho scolded gently.

Felix shrugged. “You were both tired.” The tiniest of smiles worked at the corner of his mouth. It was enough to knock the air out of Minho’s lungs. “He took a lot out of you, huh, hyung?”

Minho tweaked his chin, teasing. “Hush, you.”

Seungmin’s face appeared over Felix’s shoulder. “Don’t shush him, hyung,” he pouted.

Felix’s smile grew into something real and substantial, albeit small. He twisted around and threw his arms around Seungmin. Minho could see the shock on his puppy’s face before it melted into pure pleasure. He wrapped Felix in a hug. “Sorry for interrupting, Min,” Felix murmured.

Seungmin shook his head. “You’re always welcome,” he assured, and then his eyes found Minho. “Right, hyung?”

Well, not alwa -- But his thoughts hit an almost literal brick wall. The idea of Felix joining them anytime wasn’t a bad one. In fact, the thought made his heart pound in his chest. He wondered if Felix could feel it. “Right,” he said, breathless. “Anytime, Yongboks.”

He and Seungmin shared a look of understanding, and Seungmin gave him a watery, thankful smile. “Why don’t you two stay here for a while?” Minho suggested. “Try and sleep a little more. I’ll start breakfast.”

Seungmin and Felix both nodded, and Minho left them in his bed, curled around each other like the puppy and kitten that Stay called them. He very nearly took a picture of them and regretted not doing so the second he closed the door behind him.

But there was no time for all that: he had breakfast to get started. 

Walking to their kitchen, he realized that he wasn’t the only hyung awake. Chan was poking at Seungmin’s overly complicated coffee pot. “Too many buttons,” the oldest muttered.

“Need any help, hyung?” Chan glanced at him, disgruntled and half-asleep, and Minho chuckled. He took over getting coffee going, and soon enough, the smell of brewing coffee filled the kitchen. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I wanted to check on Felix,” he mumbled. “He’s not in his room.”

“He’s in mine with Seungmo. He came in late last night.”

Chan was suddenly more awake. “Did he say anything?”

Minho shook his head. “He just wanted to be held. I think he’s…overwhelmed.”

The older snorted. “I’d be more concerned if he wasn’t. When they told us that his emotional block might be permanent, I didn’t want to hope, but --”

“It’s hard not to,” Minho agreed. He poured Chan’s coffee into a mug and added a heaping tablespoon of sugar before handing it to him. “Help me with breakfast?”

His hyung nodded, and the pair spent the next twenty minutes putting together breakfast: juk with leftover fish cakes and fried eggs. The smell of cooking brought Hyunjin and Jeongin out of the maknae’s bedroom. Hyunjin shooed Innie to a chair at the dining table before he fetched the cold brew that Jeongin kept in the drink fridge.

“So…did we have to listen to the two of you get railed last night?” Jeongin asked.

Minho felt his ears go hot. “Subtle as a brick wall, Innie,” he mumbled, topping each bowl with a fried egg. 

“About as subtle as you and Seungmin, hyung,” Hyunjin said, smirking over the top of his cold brew. 

“Or Channie-hyung and Changbin,” Jeongin threw in. “I didn’t know Jisung-hyung could get so loud just watching.”

Minho glanced at Chan, who had a strange, stilted expression on his face. It was like smelling blood in the water: now that he saw his hyung’s expression, he couldn’t just let it go. He turned and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you mean Jisung ‘just watches’?”

Jeongin’s eyes went wide. “Oh…uh…hyung?” He looked at Chan, who had gone completely still. It was like he thought if he didn’t move an inch, they’d get bored and ignore him. Like hell , Minho thought.

“Have you not been taking care of Jisung?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he studied Chan. His hyung wasn’t the selfish type; it didn’t make sense that he and Changbin just wouldn’t touch him for months. “Hyung?”

Chan was a pretty shade of pink now. “He --” He swallowed hard. “I --”

“Leave hyung alone,” Jisung said as he breezed into the kitchen. “He and Changbin-hyung take care of me just fine.” He crossed to Chan and pressed his mouth to his flushed cheek. “Calm down, naekkeo. Minho-hyung is just teasing,” he murmured, softly enough that it was meant to be just them, but Minho heard him loud and clear. A look Minho had never seen broke over Chan’s face, like he couldn’t quite believe what Jisung had said. 

He waited to be jealous, but it didn’t happen. Instead, he felt the same warmth looking at Jisung and Chan that he’d felt when Felix had wrapped his arms around Seungmin. It was such a bizarre feeling. He had been jealous in the past: he can remember getting jealous and possessive of Jisung when he would laugh with other producers in the recording studio. Or if he playfully flirted with MCs on variety shows, even if it was just to cover up his nerves.

But watching him be soft with Chan? 

It made him feel like he was going to melt into a puddle. 

He turned and started putting food on the table, afraid if he stared at them for too much longer, he would coo or something else ridiculous like that. It was bad enough that Hyunjin and Jeongin could see him right now, and judging by the smile on Hyunjin’s face, they knew what he was thinking.

“Not a word,” he growled at them, and Hyunjin mimed zipping his lip. Jeongin, the ballsy little bastard that he was, just grinned. “Go wake up the rest of our heathens, yeah? Make yourselves useful?”

Hyunjin tugged Jeongin out of his chair, and the pair disappeared down the hallway, giggling to each other. Minho watched them go with an uncomfortable amount of fondness. What the hell is wrong with me today? He loved the Kids, no doubt, but he didn’t think he’d felt this…sentimental since their first music show win.

“Hyung, are you helping me with breakfast or not?” he called, hating himself just a little because of how soft the words come out.

Chan grinned, and after nuzzling Jisung once more, eliciting a squeak from the younger, he went back to helping Minho load the table down with breakfast. “Treat him well, hyung,” Minho murmured as they worked side by side.

“Of course,” Chan said with a scoff. He snuck a peek at Minho. “You know it wouldn’t be impossible if you two --”

Minho shook his head. “We’re better off as friends.” He wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but Minho didn’t know if he and Jisung would be any better for each other now than they were before…and the stakes were higher now that other people were involved. 

“I think you’re both letting your fear win.”

He glared at the older. “Drop it, hyung.”

Chan dipped his head in acknowledgement. “For now.”

Minho was about to where he could shove his “for now” when the rest of the Kids came trampling back down the hallway. The very last to come into the living area was Felix, grasping Seungmin’s hand like a lifeline. 

He met Chan’s eyes, and whatever irritation he’d felt only moments before fell away entirely. Now, they had a shared goal: make Felix feel comfortable enough to talk to them. 

They watched their dongsaengs gather around the table, and Minho’s heart swelled to see Felix scoot his chair closer to Seungmin, as if he were scared to be even six inches away from him.

“Thank you, hyungs,” they all intoned.

It was uncharacteristically quiet as they began to eat: the only sound was the tinkling of plates and silverware. It would be nice if they weren’t wound so damn tight. He let out a sigh and rolled his shoulders.

“Are you okay, hyung?” Seungmin asked.

He smiled. “I’m fine.” Jeongin leaned against Hyunjin and murmured something to him. Hyunjin clapped a hand over his mouth to keep the laugh from billowing out; his eyes landed on Minho for a moment, and his shoulders shook all the more. 

Instead of getting upset, Minho just tilted his head to the side. “How many degrees on the air fryer, Hyunjin-ah?” he asked, sweetening his voice to what the others called a “creepy” degree.

Hyunjin blanched. “Hyung --”

“How many?”

“Twenty minutes at 180 degrees,” he muttered, sullen, and it was like the tension in the room broke. They all laughed, Felix included. Minho’s heart felt like it could fly out of his chest. 

“Don’t tease him, hyung,” Jeongin scolded, ruffling his boyfriend’s hair. “You make him nervous.”

Oh . Well…Minho kind of liked that idea. “I can make you more nervous if you’d like, Hyun,” he cooed and giggled when Hyunjin turned a pretty pink.

“Hyung,” he whined softly, and the sound skittered down Minho’s spine.

Chan cleared his throat. “Minho-yah,” he said. “Ease down a little.” He didn’t want to, but when Chan raised an eyebrow at him, he sighed and nodded. Fine , he thought. Minho would leave Hyunjin alone…for now. 

Things settled again, with markedly less tension, and as they were finishing up, Felix cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for panicking yesterday and scaring you all,” he said, voice soft and unsure. “Everything kind of hit me all at once, and it was a lot.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Lix,” Chan said. “I can only imagine how disorienting all of this must be.”

Felix hummed softly in agreement. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”

“Like what?” Hyunjin asked, fear so evident in his voice that it made Minho’s chest ache. 

“I thought it would all creep back,” Felix said, “if any of it came back at all. At first, that’s what it felt like. I would feel something , almost like a shadow, but then it would be gone.”

“But it was different last night?” Changbin asked.

Felix nodded. “It was like a wall came down in my head, and I could feel everything all at once. The world just felt…loud.” He leaned into Seungmin. “Still does.”

“What can we do to help?” Chan asked.

Felix shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Do you need time?” the older pressed, just a little. “I can get you some leave from our schedules.”

The blonde thought about it for a moment, and then he nodded. “I want --” He faltered, and they all waited, patient, as he collected himself. “I want to see my family.”

Chan smiled. “Then, I will make sure that happens.”

***

Officially, Felix went on hiatus for unspecified “health concerns.” Minho tracked the rumors online, and it seemed that the internet settled on his back problem being the cause. JYPE didn’t seem inclined to fight these rumors, and Chan made it clear before any interviews that Felix’s “condition” was off-limits.

Felix spent a week in Sydney. Then another. Then another. He didn’t contact anyone but Chan, and all the older would say when any of them asked was that Felix wasn’t ready to come back yet.

Minho was content to wait for the younger to come back, but it was becoming apparent that Seungmin and Hyunjin were both struggling. Chan told Minho that Seungmin had struggled in the recording booth at dance practice, and as they were talking, Hyunjin spun into Jisung, sending the smaller boy sprawling.

Minho and Chan moved at the same time. “Ji --”

“Baby, are you okay?”

Hyunjin looked near to tears. “Jisung, I’m so sorry. I --”

Jisung waved them all off. “It’s fine,” he said, voice gruff. “I’m fine.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Hyung, do you know when Felix is coming home? I don’t know about anyone else, but I just feel…not right with him gone.”

“Me too,” Hyunjin admitted softly, and from across the room, curled as he was with Jeongin, Seungmin hooted his agreement. 

Chan’s lips twisted into a frown. “He hasn’t given me the day for his return flight yet.”

“Maybe when you call him tonight, we could all talk to him?” Changbin suggested. “We could remind him how much we miss him.”

Surprisingly, it was Hyunjin who rejected that idea. “Maybe it should just be Minho-hyung and Seugnmin.” When they all turned to look at him, the tall dancer did his best not to curl in on himself. “He’s been the closest with them since…well, since everything, right? Maybe he’d be the most comfortable talking to them first.”

As much as Minho didn’t like the idea of hoarding Felix, they all agreed to start small. Ease Felix back in, as it were. 

Later that night, Chan came to their dorm for the call while Jeongin headed over to be with Hyunjin. When the phone rang, they were greeted with a somewhat pale version of Felix’s sunshiney smile. “ Chris, hey ,” he greeted in English. 

“ Felix ,” Chan all but cooed. “ How ya’ goin’ ?” 

“ I’m --” Felix finally noticed Minho and Seungmin, and his smile grew. “Hyung! Seungminnie!”

Chan laughed. “I was waiting for you to see them. They want to talk to you, if that's okay.”

Felix nodded. “Of course.”

Chan handed the phone to Minho. “I’m going to head back to my dorm. Call Binnie's phone if you need me. I’ll grab mine tomorrow at dance rehearsal.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Are you sure, hyung?”

Chan waved awkwardly. “You two go on. Enjoy your talk.” He was gone before Minho could say a word…but it didn’t matter, anyway. His focus was on Felix. 

“Are you doing okay?” he asked. 

Felix’s smile dimmed around the edges. “I want to tell you that I’m fine,” Felix said, “but I’m working on this honesty thing. My mom and I had a long talk, and we agreed that what started this whole mess was my not telling the truth.”

“So…you’re not okay?” Seungmin asked softly.

Felix shrugged. “I’m working on it,” he said. “I want to be able to come back and be myself, but…I’m not sure if that person entirely exists anymore. I can’t go back to smiling my way through things.”

“You don’t have to,” Minho assured him. “Not for us, not for anyone.”

Felix’s jaw clenched as he swallowed. “It’s not just me who needs to be honest,” he said. “It’s everyone. If I come back --”

“If?” Seungmin yelped, and Minho grabbed his hand and squeezed. 

Felix’s jaw clenched again. “I want to come back,” he insisted, “but I can’t with the way we talk around issues. We have to be more straightforward with each other, and I know that’s hard for all of us…but it’s what I need.”

“Have you talked to hyung about this?”

Felix chuckled. “Chris and I have had a few really long talks about honesty, actually.” His cheeks pinked. “He’s given me a lot to think about.”

“Like what?” Seungmin asked.

The blonde shook his head. “That’s not my truth to tell,” he said. “But, what I can say is that I agree with him.” Agree with him? What the hell did that mean? “Hyung will tell you when he’s ready.”

“So…how can we assure you that we’ll be more straightforward?” Seungmin asked. “We can say it until we’re blue in the face, but how do we show you?”

Felix didn’t know how to answer them; it was clear on his face. “I think that’s my hang-up to get over,” he said finally. “I have to trust that you mean it, and that we can all sit down and talk.”

“We can,” Seungmin was quick to say. “The minute you get back.”

Minho squeezed his hand again. “Don’t push, Meong.”

Seungmin huffed, but it made Felix smile. “I’m glad that he has you to take care of him,” he said to Minho. “You suit each other well.”

“I owe it to you for opening my eyes,” Minho said. 

Felix shook his head. “You would have figured it out eventually.”

Minho wasn’t sure that that was true, but Seungmin’s head plopped his head onto his shoulder, and his bergamot cologne filled his nose, and something inside of Minho settled. Having the younger around made him feel more certain about himself. Felix was a part of them, and they would figure it out. “Could we call you? All of us?” he asked. “This weekend?”

Felix hesitated for a moment, but he nodded. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do that.”

They chatted for a while longer -- mostly Seungmin and Felix talking about Sydney and where Felix would take them the next time they traveled to Australia -- but it was getting late. “We have to be up early, Meong,” he said gently. 

Seungmin pouted. “But --”

“Go,” Felix said. “We’ll talk again soon.”

Seungmin looked at him. “Promise?”

Felix nodded. “I promise, Minnie.”

When they hung up, Seungmin burst into tears. Minho pulled him into his arms. “It’s okay,” he murmured over and over. “We’ll talk to him soon.”

“He’s not coming back, hyung.”

“He will,” Minho assured him. “I promise that he will.” He tipped Seungmin’s chin up and pressed their lips together softly, reassuringly. “He’s right. We all need to be more honest; we need to make sure that nothing like this happens ever again.” Seungmin pursed his lips, and Minho kissed him again, humming softly. “Let’s go to bed.”

***

“Yongbok said that you and he have been talking a lot. About everything,” Minho said, shoulder pressed against Chan’s, at their next dance rehearsal. 

“Yeah, we have.” The older didn’t take his eyes off of where the younger members were leaning against one another, eyes buried in their phones. 

“You knew that he was thinking about not coming back?”

The question came out harsh, but Minho didn’t back down. He didn’t want to be angry at Chan for not telling them, but it sat in his gut like spoiled milk. 

Chan sighed. “If I thought he was serious, I would have brought it up.”

“You should have told us!” His voice carried across the room, and when the younger members looked up, Minho shrank back. “Yongbok said we had to be more honest, yeah? Is that your way of showing him that we’re going to talk more openly?”

Chan glanced at him, and Minho was almost taken aback by the sadness in his eyes. “I didn’t want anyone to worry,” he said, “unless we needed to worry.”

Looking at Chan, something shifted in Minho. His anger evaporated. He wanted to reach out, but it wasn’t their relationship to lean on each other when it wasn’t a joke. Chan gave hugs, yes, but it was mostly to make Minho laugh or scream. It was for the cameras…and for once, their rehearsal room was devoid of the usual camera crew.

Tell the truth , he told himself. That was what Felix wanted. It was what they all needed . Taking a breath, Minho pulled Chan into a hug. “You don’t have to take all of this on yourself,” he murmured into the older’s neck. 

Chan stood, stock still, for a moment before he wrapped his arms around Minho’s shoulders. He didn’t say anything, but Minho could hear him sniffling. “I told Yongbok that we would all talk this weekend,” he told the older. “But let’s talk tonight, okay? I’ll make dinner.”

Chan nodded. “I’ll help.”

“I’d like that, hyung.”

*Chan*

Chan was a nervous wreck the rest of the day, and he couldn’t point to why. Eating dinner with his Kids was one of those things that always brought him joy…but a part of him was dreading it. “Channie.”

He startled and looked at Changbin. They were alone in the studio for once: Jisung had opted to spend their “free afternoon” at home. He was supposed to be writing, but Chan would put money on finding him in bed, watching YouTube videos. “Yeah?”

“Are you here right now?” He shook his head, and Changbin scooted his chair closer. “What do you need?”

Chan wasn’t sure, and he said as much. “I’m nervous about dinner tonight, and I can’t figure out why.”

Changbin twined their fingers together. “You’re afraid of what everyone’s going to say, aren’t you?”

He shrugged: he could feel the way his muscles bunched in his shoulders. It felt like the muscles didn’t un-bunch. “I’m afraid they’re going to look at me like I’m a freak,” he admitted. “Hyunjin and Jeongin only know a bit of how I feel, and I know it weirds them out.”

Hyunjin mostly spent time at the other dorm, or in his room; Chan didn’t see that as a coincidence, and he said as much. 

Changbin shook his head. “I think he and Jeongin are just back in that honeymoon phase again.” 

That, Chan knew, was true. They had been in each other’s back pockets since they reunited. It wasn’t like he, Changbin, and Jisung were any better. They could barely be in a room with a lock on the door without being all over each other. 

“The last thing I want is to make them uncomfortable around me,” Chan confessed softly. “I don’t want to lose them.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Changbin stood and pulled him to his feet. “Come on,” he said. “We’re not doing any good here. Let’s go home and bother Jisung until it’s time to go over to the other dorm.” 

“What if he’s actually writing?”

Changbin snorted. “Then, I’ll find some other way to distract you from yourself.” He winked, and Chan chuckled despite himself. He knew that he should insist that they stay and work on whatever music they could…but Changbin was right. He was no good like this. Instead, he allowed himself to be pulled back to the dorm, to be distracted. 

Whatever happened later would happen whether he worried himself to death over it for the next few hours or if he let the beautiful men who he was in love with use him as they wished. He might as well enjoy it.

***

*Minho*

Minho had done most of the prepwork for dinner before the other dorm arrived. Chan came in with his hand in Jisung and a few bitemarks peeking out of his collar; Changbin was behind them, smiling sheepishly.

“I see that you had a productive afternoon,” he said flatly, putting a hand on his hip.

Chan flushed. “It was productive enough.”

“I wrote half a song,” Jisung said.

“Was that before or after one of you did that to hyung’s neck?” Minho asked and reached out to press on the visible bruise.

Chan all but shrieked and jumped away from him, and Minho gave chase, giggling maniacally. He tackled the older in the living room, bringing them both to the floor in a heap. He dug his fingers into Chan’s sides, making the older laugh and struggle. It set his heart alight to see Chan smiling so freely. 

“Hey, hey, what’s going on here?”

Minho glanced over to where Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Seungmin had gathered. They must have heard the noise. He reclined against Chan, as if he weren’t pinning him down. “Nothing,” he chirped as innocently as he could manage.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at him. “So, you and hyung just hang out on the floor like that all the time, do you?”

Minho smirked. “And if we did?” He shifted a little and froze…and so did Chan. He didn’t think anyone else noticed -- they were all busy laughing -- but Minho could feel how hard Chan was against his back. That was definitely new.

Or, glancing back at his hyung, whose ears were a blistering red, maybe it wasn’t. 

“Are you okay?” he murmured, low enough that the others didn’t catch it.

Chan cleared his throat, but Minho saw him nod. “Just… don’t move for a second?”

“Sure.” Minho felt, rather than saw, Chan adjust himself so that when they moved, he wouldn’t be tenting his sweats. “Okay,” he said loudly and climbed to his feet after Chan patted his back. “Enough playing around, hyung. You said you’d help me with dinner.” He reached out a hand and helped Chan to his feet. 

“Mario Kart, anyone?” Jeongin asked, and the others hooted and rushed to get the Switch set up.

Minho and Chan disappear into the kitchen, and as they start cooking, they both listen to the boys in the living room, shouting at each other. When they seemed fully into their game, Chan said, “I’m sorry about that.”

Minho shrugged. “It’s no big deal,” he said. “We’re all guys. Weird things get us hard all the time.”

Chan snorted. “I’m not sure I should let you call yourself a weird thing, Minho-yah.”

Minho blinked. His heart stutter-stopped in his chest. “So that… that was because of me?”

Heat flashed through him, and he couldn’t decide whether it was because he was embarrassed or not. It wasn’t like he’d never been lusted over before. Obviously. But this was Bang Chan . There was no way that his hyung was interested in him. Not like that. 

Right?

Besides, even if he was, Minho wasn’t interested in return. He had enough on his plate with Seungmin and whatever was happening with Felix. He didn’t have it in him to add more to his plate. 

… Right?

Chan rubbed at the back of his neck and chuckled in the way he did when he was extremely nervous. “Would you hate me forever if I said yes?”

Minho felt a knot forming in his shoulders. “Pass me the kimchi, hyung?” he asked

Chan sighed but didn't say a word as he passed the kimchi over. Minho could feel his eyes as he cut the long pieces of cabbage into bite-sized pieces. 

He swallowed hard. “I wouldn't hate you, hyung,” he murmured. “I could never hate you.”

“I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable.”

Minho shook his head. “You didn’t.” He threw the prepared vegetables into a pan to saute. “I was just surprised.”

Chan chuckled. “Why?”

Minho didn’t have an answer for that. Instead, he let the conversation drop, and they went back to cooking in companionable silence. 

In a little more than a half an hour, dinner was ready. “Call them to the table?” Chan asked.

Minho smiled, knowing exactly what Chan wanted. “Hey!” he shouted across the dorm. “Yah!”

The living room fell silent, and Minho saw Chan’s smile grow ridiculously wide. He would never understand why the older loved when he yelled, but he was always so genuinely happy when he scolded the Kids. 

“Dinner!” Chan called, half-giggling.

Minho heard the din of feet pounding across the floor, the movement of chairs as they settled in their spots. He and Chan took the plates of seared meat and sauteed vegetables and bowls of rice to the table. 

The younger men all hooted their thanks, and food was dispersed amongst them. It was perfect… except for the hole where Felix should be.

Minho sat opposite Chan and ate, but his eyes kept dragging to the empty seat, and he saw Seungmin do the same. He’d promised Seungmin that he would bring Felix home, and he meant it.

“Chan-hyung,” he said, and when the older looked at him, his expression flattened out. 

“Could we finish eating, please?”

Minho shook his head. If they didn’t talk soon, he had this fear that they never would. “Felix wants us to stop avoiding conversations. He wants us to open up, right? That’s what is going to get him home.” Minho could feel the others’ eyes on him, but he couldn’t look away from their leader. 

Chan stared at him for a moment before he sighed and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s right.”

“What does he think we need to talk about?” Jeongin asked.

“He told us that he can’t come back and smile through anything anymore,” Seungmin said, wrapping his arms around himself. “He’s not that person anymore.”

Minho saw Hyunjin cringe. “I wish he would have never done that to begin with,” he mumbled.

“That’s it though,” Chan said. “He did because he didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable or start a fight… and we all do that, probably more than we should.” His eyes flicked to Jisung, momentarily, but it was enough to make the younger frown. “We all have a tendency to sit in our own pain because we don’t want the conflict of expressing it.”

“Historically, those conversations haven’t gone well for us, hyung,” Jisung said, and Minho felt his words like a slap.

Chan reached out and took the younger’s hand. “I know,” he said. “But that’s part of the problem, yeah? We wait until things explode, and then we don’t wait around to talk it out.”

Jisung’s chin wobbled, but he nodded. “True.”

Chan squeezed Jisung’s hand, and Minho watched as the gesture went from comforting to seeking comfort as his expression shifted. “So, I promised Felix that we would start talking more,” he said, “so… I guess there is something that I have been holding back.”

Despite his declaration, Chan stalled. His hand slipped out of Jisung’s, but Minho watched him pet at the younger’s sleeve. It was a nervous habit  that they all knew well. “Chan-hyung loves us,” Hyunjin piped up eventually. 

Minho chuckled. “I think we all know that, Hyun.”

“No,” Hyunjin said, eyes on Chan. “Hyung really loves us. All of us.”

Chan ducked his head, embarrassed, but he nodded after a moment. “Hyunjin’s right,” he said. “I do.”

Minho shared a look with Seungmin, and he was glad to note that he wasn’t the only one who was confused. “What does that mean, hyung?” he asked.

Chan was staring at the table, unable to look at any of them. “It can mean anything you want it to,” he said. He steeled himself and then met Minho’s eyes. “I’m yours, all of yours, in whatever way you want me.” His voice cracked, and Jisung and Changbin scooted closer to him, almost instinctively, and Chan leaned into them. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable or feel like you have to… reciprocate in any way. I just -” He shrugged. “It just feels good to say, at least once.”

It was quiet for a moment, and then Seungmin said, “Felix said he ‘agreed’ with you? What did he mean?”

Chan blinked, obviously surprised. “He said that? Really?”

“He didn’t tell you that?”

Chan shook his head, but a soft smile was curling at his lip. “We hadn’t had a chance to talk again, so --” The small smile grew, and he chuckled and shook his head. 

“So,” Seungmin prompted, and Minho would correct him for being overly eager… but he was curious too.

“Felix and I were talking about… everything, and he asked me what I wanted. Like, the best case scenario that I could imagine.” He stalled again, flushing all over again, and it took a squeeze from Changbin for him to continue. “It looked a lot like this, honestly. Just us around a table, sharing a meal, laughing, enjoying being around each other. I’m not worried about the labels and all that. I just want to get to love you in whatever way that would be comfortable for you.”

“With the added bonus of getting railed seven ways to Sunday?” Jeongin added, but his smile softened what could have been a harsh, crass question.

Chan, to his credit, didn’t get flustered. Instead, he just shrugged. “I am not opposed, no,” he said, almost primly, and wow did that make Minho’s heart go crazy. He pressed a palm to his chest, as if that could slow it back down.

“So, Felix agreed with that vision,” Hyunjin said, voice thick with an emotion that Minho had trouble identifying. A little bit of sadness, a lot of longing, maybe regret as well. Despite everyone’s assurances that Hyunjin wasn’t at fault for any of what had happened, Minho knew that he still struggled with it. He probably always would. 

His words caught up with Minho, and his heart was off racing again. Chan and Felix shared this vision of some kind of… kitchen table polycule. He felt winded just thinking about it. “That’s a lot, hyung.”

Chan nodded. “I know, and believe me, I have absolutely no expectations that any of you will feel the same way, okay?”

Minho looked at Jisung and Changbin, who had been largely quiet. “What do you two think?”

Changbin’s grin was an answer in and of itself, but he also explained: “I’ve known from the start that Channie had a big heart. It’s just taken him a while to figure it out too.” 

“I didn’t understand it at first,” Jisung admitted softly. “I worried that I was intruding… or worse that whatever was happening between us wouldn’t matter as much. But it’s not like that at all. Chan and Changbin have a relationship all their own, just like I have with each of them. When we overlap all together --” He shivered a little, and Minho didn’t like the ugliness that flared in his gut. “That’s my favorite.”

“You haven’t been jealous?” Jeongin asked.

Jisung shrugged. “Here and there,” he admitted, “and we’ve had to work on talking about things.” He glanced at his hyungs, and they shared a smile, like it was some kind of inside joke between them. “But I don’t begrudge them time alone, if that’s what you mean. I get time alone with each of them too.”

It sounded so complicated. It would take a massive amount of communication to make work and --

Was he really entertaining this idea? Really? Minho had the momentary feeling that he was losing his mind. 

“Do you want us all to be with you?” he found himself asking. “Or for everyone to be with everyone?”

Chan shrugged. “I can only speak for how I feel,” he said. “I can’t dictate how you all feel about each other… but if you’re asking if I would be upset if Changbin or Jisung had a relationship that didn’t involve me, the answer is no.” He gave Minho a significant look, and Minho had to look away, ignoring the kicking in his chest.

“How would this even work?” Jeongin asked. Minho was beginning to feel like he was in an episode of the Twilight Zone . Everything was normal… except that the whole world had flipped on its head.

Chan shrugged. “I think regardless of the…intricacy, you have to treat each connection as its own thing, like Jisung said. No two relationships are the same, and you can’t expect that they will be.” 

He looked at all of them, and Minho let himself see Bahng Christopher Chan as the 26-year-old, sexy as hell man that he was and not his leader, not his friend, for a moment. He imagined what their impromptu wrestling session could have become if the boundaries of friendship weren’t in the way. Warmth spread across his cheeks and crept into his ears. 

“This is me telling you how I feel,” Chan added with a little shrug. He was back to fidgeting with his hands. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way; I don’t expect it, like I said.” His hands balled into fists, and he fought to take a breath. “I don’t want this to get in the way of what we already have. I would hate it --”

Despite the turmoil roiling in his stomach, Minho rushed to soothe their leader. “Of course, hyung,” he said. “Nothing could ever change that.”

Seriously, they got through Felix nearly dying . Channie’s love confession paled in comparison.

“Anyone else want to confess something?” Minho threw out, needing something to break the tension that felt like it would crush them all. “While we’re at it?”

The silence was almost deafening…and then Jisung hiccuped out a laugh. “I was the one who scalded the bottom of your good soup pot when we were back in the old dorm, but I let you yell at Seungmin and Jeongin for it.”

There was a moment of absolute silence before chaos erupted. Both Seungmin and Jeongin launched themselves at Jisung -- they could remember the absolute thrashing that Minho had given them over that pot -- and the rest were too shocked to try and stop them. They tackled him to the ground, knocking over his chair as he did so. 

Jisung shrieked as the two youngest dug their fingers into his body. “Help!”

Minho snorted. “Suffer, Hannie,” he said. “That soup pot was expensive.”

“You’re so mean , hyung!” They wrestled across the floor of the living room; Jisung screamed when Jeongin leaned down and bit him on the arm. 

“Okay, okay,” Chan laughed,  wading into the fray to drag Seungmin and Jeongin off of him. “I need you to not kill him, okay? He writes good songs, and he’s pretty.”

“Good stroke game too,” Minho added absently. The words were out of his mouth before he even thought about it…and when both Chan and Changbin agreed, the room erupted in screams again.

“I feel like Jisung has fucked an inordinate amount of the hyung line,” Jeongin muttered. 

And because Jisung was an absolute menace, he looked at Hyunjin and gave him an exaggerated wink. “Three down, one to go, Hyun.”

Hyunjin squawked . “Pervert!”

Minho kept waiting for Jeongin to protest, to tease, to say anything , but instead, he was staring at Jisung with a startling amount of heat in his eyes. Like he was imagining what it would be like to see Hyunjin and Jisung together.

Imagine what he and I could do to Seungmin .

Minho shook his head. That was a dangerous fucking thought. It was one thing to think about Chan, or even Changbin, but Jisung wasn’t an option. Not for him.

“I think --” Six pairs of eyes turned to him, and he was struck dumb for a split-second. He cleared his throat. “I think we should take some time to think about what we want. There’s no need to rush, right?”

They all agreed, and their family dinner was concluded. 

“I’ll do clean-up, hyung,” Seungmin said as the dorm emptied out. Jeongin opted to go with Hyunjin back to his dorm; 3racha were due back in the studio to make up for what they didn’t get done this afternoon.

“We’ll do it together.”

They ended up working side-by-side at the sink, quietly, for a while…but Seungmin finally sighed. “Hyung, what do you think about what Chan-hyung said?”

“I think it’s complicated.” Not impossible, necessarily, but definitely complicated. 

“But are you attracted to hyung?”

Minho snorted. “I’m pretty sure anyone with eyes who also liked dick would be attracted to Bang Chan, Meong,” he said, wincing as he heard the words. Sarcasm or silence seemed to be his default setting when he was nervous. He took a breath and tried to center himself. “But if you’re asking me if I have feelings for him?” Minho shrugged. “I’ve never had more than one partner at a time before.”

Seungmin was quiet for a moment. And then, “But…that doesn’t really answer my question, hyung.”

“I know.” He glanced at Seungmin and tried to smile, but he knew that it didn’t quite form on his face. If his hands weren’t wet, he would reach out and touch the younger. “ You’re my priority.”

Seungmin’s expression went soft. “I know that, hyung.” 

Still the inevitable but hung between them.

But what about Felix?

But what about Jisung?

But what about the very intriguing thought of allowing themselves to think and feel things for the others that they might have been denying themselves out of sheer principle?

“I wouldn’t begrudge you for exploring your feelings, Meong, even if I decide that I don’t want to.”

The younger blinked, obviously surprised. “You…would be okay with that?”

“I think so,” Minho said. They grew quiet, contemplative, and they finished putting away the dishes and pots. He could feel the younger’s eyes on him the whole white, and he tried not to cringe under the weight of his gaze. “I don’t think I’ll know definitively unless something happens,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Seungmin shook his head. “There’s no need to apologize, hyung.” He wrapped his arms around the older’s neck, wet hands be damned, and pulled him in close. Minho hummed, happy, and tucked his face against Seungmin’s neck. They stood together for a long moment, and then Minho felt Seungmin take a deep breath. “What about Jisung?”  

“That’s not going to happen, Meong.”

Seungmin tutted. “But --”

“He and I need to leave well enough alone,” he insisted, despite how his stomach tried to make a pit out of itself. 

“Chan-hyung said we sit in our pain,” Seungmin pressed. “Isn’t that --?”

“ Drop it , Meong.” Minho pulled out of their embrace and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. Seungmin’s dark eyes were full of fire; he wasn’t in the mood to back down. Minho went for a distraction. “Besides Felix, have you thought about any of the others? Tell me the truth.”

Seungmin blushed softly. “I’m not in love with any --”

“That’s not what I asked, and you know it.”

Seungmin’s soft pink cheeks turned red. “I have eyes, hyung,” he muttered, said eyes dropping to the floor. “ Of course I’ve thought about other members before. It would be impossible not to.”

Minho quirked his eyebrow up; his smile was sharp and a touch cruel. “Seung min ,” he singsonged.

“It’s not like I want to --” Seungmin let out a frustrated groan at Minho’s soft tut tut . “I’ve always wondered what it would be like if Chan and Changbin punished me,” he said, practically whispering the words. “Like, when I’m having a bad day in the booth, and I get bratty. I’ve thought about them doing what you do to get me out of my head.”

Well…fuck . Heat flared through the older. The idea of the two most muscular members of their group towering over a bratty Seungmin was…hot. Very, very hot. “What else?” he asked, hating himself just a little for how breathless he sounded.

If Seungmin heard it, he didn’t comment. “I want to see you and Yongbok together.”

He wasn’t expecting that. “Why would you want that?”

“Hyung.” Seungmin sighed and shook his head, as if Minho were being purposely obtuse. “Yongbok is soft, and I just…want to see you be soft with someone.” When Minho’s eyebrows crinkled in the middle, he rushed to add, “Not that we aren’t sometimes! It’s just…it would be different.” He sighed, almost dreamily. “You and Yongbok would be lovely.”

Lovely . It wasn’t a word that Minho had ever heard used to describe him. Felix was lovely, sure, but him? He didn’t think so. “If that’s what he wanted,” Minho said.

“Of course,” Seungmin said, as if that were a given. “Is…was what I just said okay? I didn’t hurt your feelings?”

Minho shook his head. “It was perfectly fine, Meong,” he said and held out a hand and grinned when Seungmin immediately took hold of it. “In fact, why don’t we go talk a little more, huh?”

Seungmin quirked his eyebrow at him. “You just want to hear about what I’ve thought about Chan and Changbin doing to me.”

Minho all but cooed. “My Meong is so smart.” 

***

When Felix answered the Zoom call, he laughed when he saw all of them gathered in one room around one screen. “Why are you all together?” he asked. “It’s Zoom.”

We all share a fucking brain cell sometimes . “We just wanted to be together,” Minho said. 

Felix’s nose wrinkled. “You didn’t think of it, did you?”

“No,” Jeongin admitted. “We were all too excited to finally talk to you.”

Felix’s smile lost some of its shine, but it didn’t melt entirely away. “I’m sorry about that,” he said.

“Don’t be sorry,” Hyunjin said softly. “You deserve all the time you need. We just --” He took a breath. “We just want you to come home.”

Felix’s eyes flicked to Hyunjin, and Minho was shocked to see how…shy he seemed to look. It shouldn’t be possible for Felix to have feelings for Hyunjin. The surgery should have dug them out with the plant that had taken root in his lungs. 

But it wouldn’t be the first time that the experts were wrong…or maybe Felix’s love for Hyunjin was so strong that even pulling out the plant couldn’t take it away from him. 

“I have a flight scheduled for next week,” Felix said. “I want to be able to get on it, and I swear I’m working on it…but every time I think of coming back, my chest feels like it’s going to explode. I’ve started working with a therapist, and she thinks it’s a form of PTSD.”

It wasn’t entirely surprising, but it didn’t stop the deep hurt that sank in Minho’s gut. The others looked equally as devastated. “Felix,” Chan breathed out, obviously close to tears. “If that’s how you feel, maybe it would be best --”

“It’s not you guys,” Felix cut him off. “You all are not the problem, I promise. You’re the reason I want to come back at all.”

Seungmin caught on a lot faster than the rest of them. “You said you couldn’t smile through it anymore,” he said.

Felix nodded. “Before my Hanahaki’s diagnosis, I smiled through everything because that was my role, you know? When I did cry, it was because I was overwhelmed with gratitude and love for Stay. I was so afraid to let anyone see my bad days because I didn’t want to end up in some fan edit on the internet or worse. After my surgery, I still pretended to be that smiley person because it was expected. I didn’t feel anything, but I could pretend so well that most people didn’t know anything was wrong. I can’t --” 

His eyes welled with tears, and they began to fall fast and faster. It wasn’t pretty: his face turned red, and snot dripped from his nose. But he didn’t mop his face. He didn’t try to hide from them. Minho couldn’t begin to guess what any of the rest of them were thinking, but he was in awe. Felix was a mess; he was raw and hurting. Minho had never seen him look more beautiful because he looked so absolutely real.

It wasn’t a stretch to think that the others would agree that they all ached to hold him, comfort him. 

When Felix finally ran out of steam, he sucked in a breath, wrapping his arms around himself. “The thought of not being allowed to feel again, after I finally got it all back, is terrifying,” he admitted, voice thick. He sniffled and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “What if --”

“No what ifs ,” Chan said. “We never want you to hide who you are.”

“Stay might not feel that way,” Felix pointed out. “The company might not feel that way.” 

The people closest to them -- their managers and bodyguards and crew -- were amazing people who would support them no matter what. But the board that controlled what content and music they dropped and when might not be as forgiving. 

“Fuck them,” Jisung all but snarled.

“Baby,” Chan said softly, putting a hand on the younger’s.

“Sung’s right, hyung,” Changbin piped up. “The company needs us way more than we need them at this point. If they have a problem with Felix being authentic to himself, we’re nearing the end of our contract. Other companies would jump to have us.”

Felix’s eyes went wide. “You --” he spluttered. “We can’t do that.”

“We would for you,” Minho insisted, and the rest of them agreed. 

“In a heartbeat,” Jeongin added. 

There were more tears, on both sides of the computer this time, and Felix looked even more of a mess than before. Minho glanced at Seungmin: the younger was practically swooning. “Would it help if one of us came to you?” Minho asked. “To help with the plane ride home?”

Felix started to shake his head, but then stopped. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But how would that even work?”

“We could make it work,” Chan said. “Whoever you want, I’ll make sure their schedule is clear.”

“I don’t --” His eyes flicked to each of them, holding for no longer than a second. “I can’t pick. Please don’t make me.”

“Okay,” Chan said, smiling kindly. “We’ll figure that part out and just send you the flight information.”

“Thanks, Chris.”

They spent the next little while catching Felix up on what he’d missed in the last few weeks, and it was nice to giggle and be silly with everyone again. Minho didn’t miss the dips into contemplative quiet here and there, but he didn’t comment on them. If Felix wanted to share his thoughts, he would.

When they hung up, with Chan promising to send him flight information in the next hour or so, Minho felt like a weight had been taken off his chest, and he knew that he wasn’t the only one. “Who’s going to Sydney?” Seugmin asked, leaning back against Minho. 

They all looked around at each other: any of them could make the argument as to why they should go…but Minho glanced at Chan. “Fancy a visit home, hyung?”

Chan shook his head. “I have too much to do in the studio. They’d never okay it.”

That took out the rest of 3racha then. “Obviously you or Seungmin should go,” Hyunjin said, trying so hard to sound casual and failing miserably.

Seungmin tipped his head back so that he could look at Minho. It would be easy to agree and put the younger on a plane…but then he subtly shook his head, and Minho’s chest went warm. “Seungmin and I both have extra vocal lessons coming up with a teacher the company paid a lot for.” It wasn't even a lie, Jeongin was expected at those same lessons, but if Minho pressed, he knew he could get it moved. 

Or…

Minho looked at Jeongin, and the younger had definitely caught on…and he didn't seem all that bothered. “Hyun,” Jeongin said softly. “I think it'll have to be you.”

Hyunjin couldn't have looked more shocked if they slapped him. “What? Why?”

“We’re all busy,” Minho said, “and while I’m sure Chan can actually perform miracles for us sometimes, wouldn’t it be easier if he didn’t have to for this?”

Hyunjin’s teeth sank into his lower lip, and he looked at Jeongin, nervous. “It’s okay, Hyun,” he said. “I think it would be a good idea.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “I do.”

***

*Felix*

Felix tapped his foot against the ugly tile of the baggage claim. The flight that he was waiting on had arrived twenty minutes ago, and taking going through customs into consideration, whoever he was meeting should be here soon.

His stomach felt like a pit of vipers: he’d woken up with his anxiety ramped up to an eleven and could barely choke his way through breakfast. His mother hadn’t wanted him to come. “We could send someone else to pick him up,” she’d said. 

But Felix didn’t want that. He hadn’t been lying when he told Chan and the others that they weren’t keeping him from going back to Seoul. It was entirely his own inability to stifle himself. His moods swung wildly, from the happiest he’s ever been to shaking with a new-found rage that terrified him. There were frequent bouts of tears. Attacks of hysterical laughter. He felt half-crazed most of the time.

His therapist Dr. Harlan told him that it was normal to feel this way, especially after the trauma of nearly dying the way that he did. Felix’s mother had taken him to Dr. Harlan because the man had experience with patients who had Hanahaki surgery. He wasn’t at all surprised when Felix told him that when his emotions came rushing back, everything came back with it. 

“Removing the roots that embed into your lungs should take everything you feel for that person with it,” Dr. Harlan had said on that first visit. “But, sometimes, that person has dug in even deeper than the roots have a chance to manifest.”

It had scared Felix, at first, to realize that he was still very much in love with Hyunjin… but when he realized that Hyunjin wasn’t the only one in his heart anymore, it helped. It gave him room to breathe… and to think. The love he felt for the taller man was deep and true, but it wasn’t all-consuming. He thought about Seungmin often, about his soft, brown eyes and wide smile. And Chris’s dimples. He could think of all the wonderful things that he loved about all of the men in his life.

Before Hanahaki’s, Felix wouldn't have been able to do that. 

“ Hey, Felix .” 

He would know that little singsong call anywhere. He turned, and Hyunjin was standing there, fidgeting with the shoulder strap on his bag. “Hey, Hyunjin.” A smile stretched across his face. “They sent you, huh?”

He nodded. “They all think we need to talk.”

Felix nodded. “I think they’re right.” Their return flight to Seoul was in three days. It gave them a little time. 

They walked side-by-side out of the airport towards the parking complex. “You’re driving?” Hyunjin asked.

He shrugged. “I have my license here.”

In the parking complex, things were quiet. Their footsteps echoed off the walls: Hyunjin picked a truly un-busy day to fly in. When they got to Felix’s mom’s SUV, he opened the back for Hyunjin to throw in his bag. 

Hyunjin looked around at their surroundings: Felix had parked in a corner of the complex, well away from the other cars. Hyunjin reached out and took hold of Felix’s wrist. “Come here?” he asked, drawing Felix around to the side of the car that was nearest to the wall.

“Hyun?” Felix’s heart leapt up into his throat. “What --?”

“I’m in love with you,” Hyunjin said. “Before we say or do anything else, I wanted to say that to you.”

This is how it feels to be hit with a two-by-four . Felix’s chin wobbled, even as he tried to bite the sob stuck in his throat back. He could break down later: he wanted to stay in the moment now. “And Jeongin is okay with that?”

Hyunjin nodded. “We’ve done a lot of talking, Lix, and he and I know exactly how we feel about each other. About everything. We’re solid.”

“What --” Felix swallowed hard. This all felt very surreal, like he was in one of the thousands of dreams he’d had over the years. “What does that mean, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin reached out with shaking fingers and brushed Felix’s cheek. “I have no idea,” he said with a shaky, wet laugh. “But the rest of our boys sent me to figure it out.”

Felix raised one of his eyebrows in question. “Our boys?”

Hyunjin shrugged. “You and Chan started something, I think. You'll have to come home and help us suss it all out.” He bit his lip, and Felix couldn't help but look at it. 

His throat was suddenly so dry. “Uhm… can I --? Do you think we could --?”

“Felix,” Hyunjin breathed out. His tongue darted out to lick at his lip. Felix watched it with far too much fascination. “I know we’ve got a lot of… getting to know each other again, but --?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me?”

Felix leaned in, and the world slowed down. How many times had he fantasized about Hyunjin’s perfect, lush lips? Their mouths brushed against each other once… and then again. And then a third time.

No fantasy could ever live up to the way Hyunjin sighed into the kiss. He let Felix lick into his mouth, but his fingers tightened in Felix’s long, blonde hair, keeping him in place. It was the kind of heady give-and-take that he always imagined. Only better.

When Felix pulled back, Hyunjin looked as breathless as he felt, and oh boy did that do funny things to his gut. “Ready to go? My mom will be waiting.”

“To interrogate me?”

He grinned. “And feed you.”

Hyunjin brushed a thumb over the apple of Felix’s cheek, as if he were petting over his freckles, before he darted in for one more quick kiss. “Okay,” he said, breath tickling over Felix’s lips. “Let’s go.” Felix all but floated back around to the drivers’ seat. Hyunjin was in the passenger seat, grinning wide when he saw him again. “We owe the others a call, after your mother feeds me.”

“And questions your intentions.”

Hyunjin’s hand slipped into his own; he threaded their fingers together, squeezing tightly. “I’m ready.”

Felix wasn’t entirely sure that he was… but with Hyunjin and the others beside him, he’d get there.

Notes:

Sooo...I truly intended for this to be the last in the series, but this bitch got long. So, instead, I will finish up with a multi-chapter fic of "firsts" for these boys. No major angst there: just the boys settling into new dynamics.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 5 of In Need of...