Chapter Text
Jeonghan had just managed to fall asleep when, at 2 am, his bladder decided to wake him back up again.
Irritated, he kept his eyes half-closed to avoid complete wakefulness and shuffled over Dino’s sleeping bag next to Jeonghan and Seokmin’s bed, careful not to step on the boy. He opened the door to their shared room quietly, and stepped into the tiny hallway that led to the dorm’s shared bathroom.
He had his hand on the doorknob to the bathroom when a sound from the other side of the door had him freezing.
It sounded like a moan, a pleasured moan.
Suddenly wide awake, Jeonghan nearly burst out laughing. It wasn’t his first time catching a group mate in the middle of a masturbation session — a workplace hazard of living with twelve other hormonal boys.
He raised a hand to knock on the door, cursorily wondering who it could be. He didn’t care too much about who it was — he wouldn’t even tease the member too much! He just wanted to take a piss and go back to bed. But just as his knuckles were about to make contact with the door, another sound seeped through — words.
“Shit, yeah baby,” Seungcheol said, voice unusually deep. “Wish I was there with you too, touching you just right.”
A sharp current passed through Jeonghan’s body, goosebumps erupting all over.
There was a gasp, the wet sound of a hand around a cock, and then another low moan. Jeonghan shivered, barefoot and half-naked in his boxers.
Seungcheol was probably on the phone with his girlfriend, Haneul, who wasn’t really his girlfriend, and they were…
Jeonghan knew he should leave, he knew it was wrong to linger, to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help but press closer to the door.
It sounded as if Seungcheol was standing with his back against the door. Jeonghan could hear every breath that left his lungs, could hear the rustle of his arm moving, the sound of his pleasure pouring past his lips as if he was standing right beside Jeonghan, as if he was moaning into Jeonghan’s ears, moaning because of Jeonghan.
He didn’t know where that image came from — he knew he was attracted to men, but he wasn’t attracted to Seungcheol — but once it took root, all Jeonghan could imagine was the flush of Seungcheol’s body as he brought himself to orgasm inches away from him. All he could see was his own hands exploring Seungcheol’s strong body, wrapping his fingers around Seungcheol’s thick cock and making his breath hitch.
He was hard before he could really accept the images his mind was bombarding him with, and he closed his eyes with shame.
He shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be getting off to it, but his feet may as well have been cemented to the floor. He pressed his forehead to the door, trying to breathe through the heat inside his veins and refusing to touch himself.
“Yeah? You’d be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth?” Seungcheol was saying on the phone. His voice was just above a whisper, but pressed so close to the door, Jeonghan could hear everything. “Take me down your throat?”
God, who knew Seungcheol was this filthy?
They’d known each other for four years now, and although Seungcheol had mellowed out quite a lot since their debut, Jeonghan still saw him as the same uptight guy with power issues. He saw him as the kid who took on too much and was responsible to a fault — refusing to have fun or let anyone else have fun. But this? It was new, it was jarring.
Seungcheol sounded depraved, his voice desperate as he poured filth out of his soft mouth.
Jeonghan, who hadn’t even really watched porn before, was stuck to the door, scandalized. He felt shocked by the strength of his own arousal. Was this what he was into? Voyeurism and dirty talk?
“If I was with you?” Seungcheol continued in the same low tone. “I would spread you open and eat you out until you begged me to stop. Fuck, you like that idea, baby?” His hand sped up on his cock, and the wet squelching sound of it was doing something to Jeonghan. “You like the thought of me between your legs, licking you up and spitting it back into your mouth?”
Jeonghan gasped, his hands clenching against the surface of the door, and his cock twitching in his boxers.
He’d never seen Seungcheol like this before, never heard him like this, but the image he was painting in Jeonghan’s mind was startlingly clear. He could see his own skinny thighs spread apart, could see Seungcheol’s dark eyes looking up at him from between them, could almost feel the rasp of his morning stubble against his ass, and it nearly pushed him over.
“Ah, yeah, keep touching yourself for me,” he said and Jeonghan nearly whimpered, nearly followed the command. “Are you close, Hanni?” Jeonghan slapped a hand over his mouth, shuddering at the sound of his name. “That’s my good girl, fuck yes. Keep going, sweetheart,” he said, and Jeonghan’s breath hitched in his throat, the words leaving him dizzy with arousal, “keep touching yourself. Yeah, come for me, c’mon.”
Jeonghan’s eyes slipped close, his spine pulled taut, and then he was coming without even touching himself. He gasped and shivered, streams of his cum painting the inside of his boxer.
Inside the bathroom, Seungcheol’s voice turned strained and then he was moaning through his own orgasm. But Jeonghan wasn’t listening anymore, too shell-shocked and orgasm-dumb to do anything but watch his own cum leaking down his leg. There was static ringing inside his head, and he felt far away, removed from his own actions.
The sound of the water running pulled him out of his guilt, and he jerkily pushed himself away from the door. On soft feet, he walked to their tiny kitchenette, using a wad of tissues to clean up his leg as much as he could.
He returned to his room before Seungcheol could leave the bathroom, his twinging bladder forgotten, and didn’t sleep the whole night.
*
“Oh Jeonghannie, did you have trouble sleeping again?” their make-up artist, Eunbi, asked the next morning. “Your dark circles are back.”
Shame colouring his cheeks, Jeonghan just shook his head in response. He didn’t deserve to have someone worry over him, not after what he’d done last night.
Eunbi still pouted at him with sympathy, lathering concealer under his eyes. “Just a few more weeks and then you’ll have your own room at the new dorms. Fighting!”
Jeonghan sunk inwards and nodded.
“Jeonghan didn’t sleep well?” Jisoo asked, getting his hair done next to him.
“No, it’s fine,” Jeonghan finally said. “Just tired from rehearsals.”
“Your hair is getting so long,” Taejoon, the hairstylist, said. He ran his fingers through the length of Jeonghan’s bleached blond hair and whistled. “Isn’t this the longest it’s ever been?”
Jeonghan nodded. His hair was way past his shoulders now, and as much as the fans loved them, his hair was becoming a hassle for Jeonghan to style on his personal days. “I can’t wait to chop them off after the promotions for this album are done,” he said.
Jisoo watched him for a second and then smiled. “I think I’ll miss your hair when you cut them,” he said. “It’ll be the end of an era.”
Personally, Jeonghan didn’t think he’d miss them at all.
He had never much liked the concept he had been granted for the Seventeen Project, and he hadn’t been happy when they’d asked him to grow his hair out. It had become clear to him in the very beginning, even before the company had sat them down for a formal discussion, that his concept was to be the feminine guy that their fans could ship the other guys with.
It had irked him some, and he had wondered if someone in the management knew about his sexuality, if that was why he was being molded into an effeminate, motherly figure in Seventeen.
But privately, away from prying eyes and straining ears, Jisoo had assured him that the concept had less to do with Jeonghan’s sexuality and more to do with his looks. He had overheard one of the concept developers discussing possible ‘ships’ they could create within the team, and apparently they thought people would enjoy the idea of the leader S.Coups with his shoulder-to-lean-on, age-mate, and pretty boy, Jeonghan.
It didn’t sit right with him — the idea of being forced to hide his very real sexuality but profiteering off his mythical, romantic relationship with another man. But he rolled with it, and as they came closer to their debut, he worked hard to ensure that he was next to Seungcheol every time a camera was pointed in his direction.
The company turned out to be right. JeongCheol was a success, and a hand to Seungcheol’s arm was all it took for their fans to turn rowdy at their fansigns. Some company directed ships sunk and some sailed, but none came close to the appeal and demand for Jeonghan and Seungcheol.
Jeonghan was surprised at how quickly he became habituated to indulging their fans in their delusional shipping. The oddness of the whole situation faded away quickly after their debut, and now, a couple albums in, Jeonghan barely ever thought about his intentions when he carefully slipped close to Seungcheol whenever there were eyes on them, when he touched Seungcheol, let him touch him back.
It became instinct.
Until, of course, last night.
Now, Jeonghan couldn’t even look at Seungcheol, let alone touch him, let alone meet his eyes.
His guilt was eating him alive, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He couldn’t confess his crime to anyone, he would rather die than have anyone know that he was a demented pervert, sick in the head.
But he couldn’t just carry on as if nothing had changed.
He couldn’t act as if his whole life hadn’t turned on its axis, as if he hadn’t just discovered something dark and demanding inside himself.
The truth was, he couldn’t get himself to stop thinking about it — the way Seungcheol had sounded on the other side of that door as he pleasured himself, the way his own body had reacted to his voice, his words. He couldn’t get it out of his head, couldn’t stop thinking about Seungcheol’s deep voice moaning out, “That’s my good girl.”
He couldn’t stop wanting.
*
Jeonghan returned to the dorms as soon as their shoot was done, letting the other guys go out for dinner without him.
He grabbed his towel and headed straight to the shower. His cock had stayed half-hard the whole day and he was at his limit.
Under the spray of the shower, Jeonghan bit down on his arm as he wrapped his fingers around his dick. Seungcheol filled his senses, and he shuddered, turning his head to look at the door to the bathroom.
That’s where Seungcheol had been last night, back to the door as he masturbated. Jeonghan moaned, imagining Seungcheol coming all over the floor, head thrown back in pleasure and mindless of the consequences. He wondered what Seungcheol would have done if he knew Jeonghan was right beside him, separated by a flimsy door, listening to every sound he made. Would he have been mad? Embarrassed?
Or maybe he would be intrigued, anger fading into lust as he found Jeonghan standing outside with his cum staining his boxers, white seeping down his leg. Maybe he would make Jeonghan pay for his mistake, make him take Seungcheol’s cock down his throat the way he’d clearly done with Haneul before, and apologize for sneaking in on him.
Jeonghan groaned, body twitching, and he came to the thought of being on his knees for Seungcheol.
He showered quickly afterwards, shame sitting heavy and cold inside his belly. He scrubbed himself forcefully, no amount of soap leaving him clean, and when he stepped out of the shower, he was pink. He stared at himself in the mirror and couldn’t help but wonder what Seungcheol would think of him.
Would he find Jeonghan pretty?
Everyone was always telling Jeonghan how pretty he was, how well he suited his concept, and he was conceited enough to agree. He didn’t see himself as very effeminate, but he knew that he was pretty the way girls were pretty. His body was slim, his hips slightly rounded, and he had a little fat on his chest. He’d never liked his puffy chest or his pink nipples, but maybe he could lean into his femininity if it enticed Seungcheol.
Almost absent-mindedly, he brushed his fingers through his long hair, let them fall past his shoulders.
Maybe he could even lean into his long hair if it worked for Seungcheol.
He let his hands trail down his stomach and then up to his chest. He ran his pruning fingers over his nipples and jerked at how his body reacted to the sensation. He’d never thought to touch them before, had never known he was sensitive there.
He flushed a deeper red, and his cock twitched between his legs, half-hard again.
Jeonghan looked at himself in the mirror again.
He wasn’t small or anything, but his dick wasn’t the biggest in the group either. If he could hide it, he could be mistaken for a girl.
Not giving himself the time to think about it, Jeonghan pushed his cock between his thighs and pressed them closed. He gasped when he looked back up in the mirror.
A shock went through his body, a depraved sense of thrill leaving goosebumps down his spine — he looked like he had a pussy.
He looked like a girl.
Jeonghan’s mouth parted, and in the steamed over mirror, his mouth looked ruby red. His body looked erotic, sexy, lewd.
His cock pulsed between his legs and a part of Jeonghan, a part he had never known existed, wished that Seungcheol was here to see him. He wished that Seungcheol could see him be a good girl for him.
Hands shaking with nerves, Jeonghan picked up his phone and broke the cardinal rule of being an idol — he took a photo of himself naked.
The first photo was a full-frontal and he bit his lip at how sinful his body looked, his stomach lean and taut, and his cock tucked away from view. He leaned his body sideways for the next photo, tilting his hips to the side until his ass was in the picture.
Wasn’t this how gay guys took photos?
He shook his head at the thought. He didn’t want to be a gay guy right now, he wanted to be Seungcheol’s baby. His sweetheart.
He wanted to be the one that Seungcheol could talk to in that low, deep voice of his. Wanted to be the one that Seungcheol guided into an orgasm, the one Seungcheol thought about as he came into his own hand. He wanted to be the one to spread his legs for Seungcheol, wanted to be the one to warm his cock in his throat.
He just wanted, no matter how unreasonable his desire was.
Jeonghan turned back to the mirror and let his mouth part again. His cheeks were flushed, his lips still red from the warm shower as he tucked two of his fingers into his mouth. He pushed them past his teeth and pressed down on his tongue, moaning in his throat at the pressure.
With his other hand, he raised his phone up again. He hooked his fingers inwards, let his eyes fall shut, and he took a close-up of his mouth; desperate and empty.
*
When Jeonghan had agreed to debut in Seventeen, when he had pushed past all hurdles and the hurt to stick with his boys, he had made the decision without any delusions about his future.
He had known that debuting itself did not mean success. He knew that their group could very well tank and fail before they even hit the seven year curse. He knew that coming into the public eye meant letting go of his right to privacy completely, and living for the performance.
He knew that, as a gay man, debuting meant that he would never get to date.
Some of the guys in the team had already had flings and Seungcheol had his situationship with Haneul, but Jeonghan had always known that realistically, he would never have the freedom to date someone if he wanted his group to stay free of scandal and ruin.
If the other guys got caught with girls, it would hurt the group, yes, but it wouldn’t cause them to fall apart. But if Jeonghan were to date a man and be caught doing so, there was no doubt in his mind that Seventeen would never be able to recover from the fallout. That his relationship with the rest of the boys would never recover once they found out.
Jisoo, the only person in the world who knew about Jeonghan’s sexuality, often reassured Jeonghan that he could date secretly and that it would be fine. But Jisoo also had the dumb idea that if Jeonghan ever came out to the group, they would accept him readily, so he didn’t take Jisoo too seriously.
But now, with his recent obsession with Seungcheol getting out of hands, Jeonghan was starting to consider if he should actually try to date someone on the downlow, as Jisoo called it.
He had to do something to get Seungcheol and the related horniness out of his system. He just didn’t know how.
“Jisoo-ah,” he whispered one day and Jisoo looked at him suspiciously, probably wondering why he was whispering when they were all alone in the living room. “If you found someone that you, you know, really liked, would you…Would you find a way to date them?”
Jisoo’s eyes widened and he straightened up next to Jeonghan. “Don’t tell me you’ve found someone!” he whispered back excitedly. “Who is it? It’s that backup dancer from that MV, isn’t it? Noah from Scotland!”
“What?” Jeonghan exclaimed loudly. “Where did you even get that from?”
“Well, I saw the way he was looking at you during the shoot,” Jisoo said, cheesing wide. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
Heat flooded Jeonghan’s cheeks and he shifted uncomfortably, embarrassed beyond words. “I-I think you’re seeing things that aren’t there,” he said. Surely he would have noticed if a fellow queer person was around him, especially if they were checking him out. “I didn’t see him look at me.”
Jisoo rolled his eyes. “But I did! He was definitely checking you out. Are you thinking of ‘hanging out’ with him?”
Jeonghan wasn’t a fan of the suggestive way Jisoo was moving his eyebrows. Or the air quotes.
“Of course not,” he said, flustered. “He’s from Scotland, we don’t even speak the same language.”
A salacious grin widened on Jisoo’s face, and he did the eyebrow thing again as he said, “But you both speak the language of bodies.”
“Jisoo!”
“What? I can help you dress for it. A little see-through, a little form-fitting, and there won’t be a need for any words between the two of you.”
“Why are you pimping Jeonghan out?”
Jeonghan yelled, jumping in surprise when he turned to find Seungcheol standing a couple feet away from the couch. He was wearing his disapproving-leader look — arms crossed tightly over his chest and eyebrows furrowed severely.
Jisoo had a hand to his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“I asked you a question.”
It was pre-debut Seungcheol all over again, from the tone of voice, down to the posture. But Jisoo was no longer intimidated by their leader and he rolled his eyes in response.
Jeonghan, heart going 300 kilometres an hour, bit his lip and looked down at his lap. His stomach was tied tightly in a knot, worried if Seungcheol had overheard them talking about Noah, worried that Seungcheol would figure out that he was gay.
He knew that the boys would one day find out the truth about Jeonghan, but he wasn’t ready for it yet. And he certainly didn’t want it to happen this way.
“I’m not pimping him out,” Jisoo said, and Jeonghan flushed deeper. “We were talking about dating people we don’t share a language with.”
Seungcheol’s frown deepened. “Dating is not allowed.”
Then what is Haneul to you, Jeonghan didn’t ask.
Jisoo rolled his eyes again. “Damn, what’s crawled up your ass?” he said. “Are we not allowed to imagine things either now? Is it forbidden? Are we to be hanged for making up scenarios, oh mighty leader?”
Seungcheol watched them for a second, mouth pursed, and Jeonghan wanted to curl inwards, to hide away from his all-seeing gaze.
Normally, Jeonghan would be talking back and teasing Seungcheol with Jisoo. He’d give him a cheeky grin, maybe even a wink, and he’d ask him to lighten up a little. But he couldn’t find it in himself to meet Seungcheol’s steady gaze, not after everything he had done in the last few days.
“Jeonghan-ah,” Seungcheol said softly when he couldn’t look up.
Jeonghan hummed in answer, staring holes into his knees.
Seungcheol sighed and then there were warm fingers pinching his chin, tilting his face up. Jeonghan’s mouth fell open, his heart thundering inside his chest, and his whole body heated up when he met Seungcheol’s dark, serious eyes.
“Don’t do anything dumb,” Seungcheol said. He was so close that his breath fanned across Jeonghan’s face. “Be smart.”
Jeonghan swallowed hard. Looked up and then looked away. “Of course,” he said in a foreign voice.
Seungcheol held him for another second, still frowning, and then let him go with another sigh. “You’re usually better at lying,” he said and then walked away. “I’m heading to the gym.”
Jeonghan’s lips were trembling — the heat of Seungcheol’s skin had been so close to his mouth, his lips were tingling with it. His body felt electrified from the simple touch, and Jeonghan dreaded their upcoming fansigns. How was he supposed to touch Seungcheol normally again? How was he supposed to bear the feel of Seungcheol’s hands on his body again?
“Jeonghan,” Jisoo said and something about the tone of his voice made Jeonghan look up. His face was creased with worry, his voice devoid of all teasing, all humour. “That’s a really, really bad idea.”
Jeonghan looked away again. Something close to humiliation burnt at the bottom of his tummy at being caught out so easily.
“I know,” he replied simply.
*
“Na-neun dance cho-aa,” Noah said slowly, enunciating each syllable awkwardly in Korean. “And I’m, oh gosh, I’m forgetting the words. Hangugeoreul pay-oo-go? Issoyo.”
Jeonghan huffed. It was a cute attempt at Korean, made cuter by the flush spreading down from the hinge of Noah’s jaw. Still, he clapped his hands softly and cheered him on like he would an elementary school kid.
Noah hid his face behind his hands and groaned. “Oh, stop it,” he said and Jeonghan was starting to really love his accent — a more full-bodied version of English that he hadn’t ever heard before. “I know that was terrible.”
“No, no,” Jeonghan insisted. “Very good!” He gave him a double thumbs up and then looked around for Jisoo, finding Hansol instead. “Hansol-ah, tell him that his Korean is good and that he’ll keep getting better with practice!”
Hansol looked up from his phone blankly and translated for him like a good dongsaeng.
Noah grinned at Hansol’s passed-on message and bowed to Jeonghan slightly. “Gamsahamnida.”
“You are welcome,” Jeonghan said, beaming.
“Can we get back to practice?” Seungcheol said from the other side of the practice room. He was looking at Hoshi. “I would love it if we could return to the dorms before midnight.”
He sounded annoyed but Hoshi let it roll off his shoulders good-naturedly and clapped his hands for everyone’s attention.
Jeonghan scraped himself off the floor, Noah helping him up with his hands on either sides of Jeonghan’s waist. He thanked him with a smile, and caught Jisoo’s eyes as he came back to the practice room. He was doing the annoying eyebrow thing again.
Jeonghan rolled his eyes, amused, and got into formation.
They went over the choreography three more times, until Hoshi and Heylim ssaem were both satisfied that they were as close to perfection as possible. Sweat dripped down Jeonghan’s spine and he collapsed back on the ground as soon as the music turned off, the rest of his group members and dancers sitting down as well.
“Why. The fuck. Is this choreo so tough,” Seungkwan asked, panting. He was lying flat on the ground somewhere behind Jeonghan, cheeks ruddy with exertion.
Mingyu groaned incomprehensibly in response and Jeonghan laughed.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Seungcheol get up and walk towards the pile of their stuff in the corner of the room. He didn’t seem happy. If anything, he seemed pissed off and Jeonghan had no idea why.
He was trying really hard to normalize his relationship with Seungcheol again, was trying to focus his attentions elsewhere, but he hadn’t quite managed to spend any more one-on-one time with their leader again. He didn’t know if he could handle it just yet, not when he had wet dreams about Seungcheol every night.
Maybe once Noah replaced Seungcheol in his fantasies, he could go back to being besties with Seungcheol again, but as it stood, he had no idea why Seungcheol was acting so standoffish.
Or why he was angrily going through their bags to find his own, and stomping out of the practice room.
Jeonghan turned questioning eyes to Jihoon, who was also watching the whole thing happening. But Jihoon only shrugged and lay back down on the floor again, and Jeonghan figured he would hear about it soon enough.
He turned back to Noah.
“Speak after me,” he guided the Scotsman, holding his hands gently. “Jeonghan-ineun yeapo-neyo.”
The words made Noah grin, and he responded in English, "You are pretty."
*
He was returning to the dorm after a coffee break with Noah and Jisoo, his translator, when Chan intercepted him.
“Ah, hyung,” he said, forehead creased with worry. “Seungcheol hyung wants to see you. He went back to the studio.”
Jeonghan froze, unease tricking down his gullet. “Did he say what for?”
Chan shook his head. “But I don’t think it’s for anything good. He really wasn’t in a good mood.”
His stomach clenched with sudden anxiety. Had Seungcheol somehow figured out what Jeonghan had done that night? Did he know what Jeonghan was?
He cleared his throat, and tried to give Chan a reassuring smile. Patting Chan on the shoulder, Jeonghan turned back around and started walking to the company building, only a ten minute walk from their home.
He patted his back pocket for his phone, only to find it missing. He must have left it in the practice room, and now he had no way to contact Jisoo for a hint.
Jeonghan considered stopping by the practice room to search for his phone, but his heart would probably give out under the stress of the bad news he could sense coming his way. He swallowed down the stress burbling in his belly and marched up to Seungcheol’s tiny studio on the fifth floor.
He didn’t knock, and when he entered the room, Seungcheol was sitting in his chair, arms folded tightly over his chest, and watching the door in anticipation.
Jeonghan’s heart thudded against his sternum and he closed the door behind him fearfully, unsure of what was about to happen.
“Hey,” he said softly, sitting down on the couch by the door. “You wanted to see-?”
“Is there something you want to tell me, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol interrupted, lips pressed into a straight line.
Jeonghan turned his eyes downwards, to the floor. What was he supposed to say here?
Sorry, Seungcheol, I know I shouldn’t have, but I listened to you have phone sex with your not-girlfriend and then I came in my pants like a tween.
Sorry, Seungcheol, I haven’t been able to stop imagining us having sex since then.
Sorry, Seungcheol, I know you’re straight, but I can be a good girl for you, I promise. I’ve been practicing.
What, exactly, was he supposed to say here?
Anxiety pooled like lava at the bottom of his belly and the tips of his fingers turned cold. “Seungcheol-ah,” he said, “you’re scaring me.”
Seungcheol exhaled harshly, loudly, and said firmly, “Good.”
Jeonghan’s chin wobbled, his eyes turned teary. Seungcheol never treated him like this, never spoke to him like this. “I-I…” He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how Seungcheol had found out.
Seungcheol wheeled his chair closer and Jeonghan flinched away. He couldn’t look at Seungcheol, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t.
“Be fucking honest with me, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol said. “Do not fucking lie to me, okay?” Jeonghan nodded, refusing to look up. “How long have you been seeing Noah?”
Jeonghan’s head snapped up, startled, and he made wide-eyed contact with Seungcheol. “What?”
Nostrils flaring, Seungcheol repeated, slowly, “How long have you been dating Noah?”
“Noah from Scotland?”
Seungcheol scowled in answer.
Jeonghan stared wordlessly at Seungcheol for a few seconds, mouth opening and closing like a fish’s. “What in the world are you talking about?” he exclaimed, relief flooding in. This wasn’t about that night, wasn’t about Jeonghan’s perversion. “I am not dating Noah. We don’t even speak the same language!”
“But you both speak body, don’t you?” Seungcheol sneered, quoting Jisoo from all those weeks ago.
Jeonghan frowned, shaking his head. “I am not dating him, Seungcheol. Why would you even come to that…” he trailed off, the coldness seeping back into his body. He swallowed, hands shaking. “H-He’s a man. Why would you…”
Seungcheol turned blank, eyes dark. “And that’s your type, isn’t it?”
A tidal wave of nausea washed over Jeonghan, and a strange dizziness came over him. There was a weight pressing down in the centre of his chest and he couldn’t quite breathe right anymore.
“How do you…Who told you?” he found himself asking. Jisoo would never tell and Jeonghan had never shared his secret with anyone else. Who else knew? How many people knew about him and were ridiculing him behind his back?
What gave it away?
Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. “I’ve always known,” he said and then folded his hands in front of him. “Now be honest. How long have you been with Noah?”
“I-I’m not dating him, I’m not,” Jeonghan insisted. There were black spots dancing in front of his eyes, and he didn’t know how to stop the room from spinning around himself.
“Are you sure? Because dating is not allowed. No exceptions. You know this, Jeonghan-ah.”
Jeonghan nodded and prayed for the conversation to end so he could go home and lie in complete silence until the world righted itself again. Until the walls stopped closing in on him, and the breath returned to his lungs.
Seungcheol reached for his pocket and pulled out a phone. It wasn’t until he unlocked it that Jeonghan realised that the phone was his, not Seungcheol’s.
“Why do you have that,” he asked faintly, distantly.
Seungcheol didn’t respond to the question. Instead he clicked around on Jeonghan’s phone as he said, “I couldn’t find any phone calls or text messages, which is good.” His thumb pressed down one final time and his face tightened as he turned the screen back to Jeonghan. A photo of Jeonghan hooking his fingers into his mouth lay open on the screen. “But I did find these.”
Jeonghan felt his face flush, embarrassment and shame colouring him red. He hadn’t even looked at those photos again, and to have them shoved in his face like this was humiliating.
He snatched his phone out of Seungcheol’s grip with shaking hands and tucked his phone away, underneath his thighs.
“Who did you send those to?”
“No one, I swear.”
“Jeonghan.”
“I’m not lying.”
There was a pause, and Seungcheol reached closer, pulled the phone out from underneath Jeonghan’s thighs and easily unlocked the phone again. Jeonghan didn’t even know how he knew the passcode.
He flipped to another photo, the one with Jeonghan’s dick tucked between his legs. “Your face is clearly visible here,” Seungcheol said and swiped to the next photo, the one with his ass in the frame, “and here.”
“Why are you doing this?” Jeonghan whispered, eyes ashamedly fixed to his own lap.
Seungcheol held him by the chin again, fingers a firm, two-point pressure on his skin as he tilted Jeonghan’s face up forcefully. He looked furious. “Tell me that no one else has seen these before.”
Jeonghan’s eyes watered helplessly and his voice quivered when he said, “No one has seen them before you, no one. I didn’t send them to anyone.”
An odd satisfaction spread across Seungcheol’s face and he released Jeonghan slowly. “Good,” he said with a sigh. He returned the phone back to Jeonghan and gestured at him. “Delete them for me.”
Fingers trembling, Jeonghan did so.
“Do you have cloud?” Jeonghan shook his head. “Permanently delete them from the trash folder. Good.”
The word sent a flurry of something down his spine, something confusing. It was too close to what Seungcheol had said that night on the phone, too close to what Jeonghan had been fantasizing about hearing from Seungcheol, and it confused his body. Made it react when it shouldn’t.
“You know how badly this could have gone if someone else had found these? Someone from the management?” Seungcheol asked but Jeonghan’s mind was elsewhere.
He looked at the photos sitting in his deleted folder, his finger hovered over the ‘delete permanently’ option, and he felt a different emotion bud inside his anxiety — resentment.
He didn’t look up, didn’t know if could, and asked, “Why is Haneul the exception? Why her?”
Seungcheol blinked, seeming surprised at the line of questioning. “Haneul and I, we’re not like that. We’re not dating. We’re not exchanging photos, no texts. We both have a lot to lose, and we’re both being careful.”
“Then what’s the point of your relationship?” Jeonghan asked, bitterness seeping into his tone.
Why was it that he, a gay man, couldn’t even pursue a romantic relationship lest it cost his whole team their entire careers, but Seungcheol was allowed to fuck around with another idol? But Mingyu was allowed to date his middle school sweetheart? But Jihoon was allowed to fuck a fellow producer?
Why did Seungcheol corner him, and not any of their other band members?
“It’s not a relationship,” Seungcheol said. “It’s a release. It’s a way to cope with the stress. Nothing more.”
“But I’m not allowed to seek the same?”
Seungcheol stilled, his face going expressionless in his displeasure. “Is that what all of this is? A way to find release?”
“What if it was?”
Anger, undeserved and unreasonable, flashed across Seungcheol’s face for a brief second before he wiped it off again. “Delete them,” he said through his teeth.
Jeonghan scowled, straightening his shoulders, his spine, and deleted the photos permanently. “Whatever,” he said, getting up and heading to the door.
He was halfway out when Seungcheol stopped him again.
“And Jeonghan,” he said. He met Jeonghan’s gaze calmly, steadily. “The next time you need it that bad, your release, come to me instead of a stranger.”
Jeonghan’s heart stilled inside his chest, and the world turned upside down.
*