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⟢⟡⟣
It's never really a good sign when Kyuhyun meets Hyukjae at the door of the dorm with a frown and an, "Oh, good. You're here. Finally."
To be perfectly honest, Hyukjae doesn't have much to base this on, other than the fact that Kyuhyun is frowning and has a line between his brows and has literally never met him at the door before. All that feels like evidence enough, though. Hyukjae feels a swell of concern as he frowns back.
"What?" He quickly shucks off his jacket and steps out of his shoes, then frowns deeper when he realizes that Kyuhyun is doing the opposite: he's shrugging on a jacket, winding a thin scarf around his neck, and looping a mask over his ears. "What's happening? What's going on?"
"What's going—" Kyuhyun's eyebrows go up in surprise, then come back down as he cuts himself off with a grimace. "I don't know. He just showed up here looking for you, but he wouldn't tell me why. He didn't message you or anything?"
"He? Who? Donghae?" Hyukjae asks, bewildered, before he catches sight of the person sitting on their couch. He lowers his voice. "Is that Kim Kibum? SHINee's Kim Kibum? He's looking for me?"
"Yeah. He's been here for twenty minutes," Kyuhyun says, shouldering past Hyukjae to get to his shoes. "Look, I have a schedule. I was supposed to leave already, but I was waiting for you. There's dinner in the fridge if you want it. Don't forget to wash the dishes."
"You—He—" Hyukjae sputters, bewildered, before settling on, "Yah, don't act like I don't always do the dishes! I know my responsibilities in this house."
"Sure," Kyuhyun says, and then glances pointedly over at Kibum on the couch. "Bye, hyung. I'm staying out until morning. Don't wait up for me."
"I never do," Hyukjae grumbles, but it's more to himself than to Kyuhyun, who's already disappearing out the door. As the lock engages with a soft beep, he barely manages to repress a groan. Instead, he takes a deep breath and makes his way to the living room.
It isn't that Hyukjae dislikes Kibum; he actually likes him perfectly well. But they just— They're not... friends. They never have been. They're hyung and dongsaeng, certainly, but not in the same way that Hyukjae is with Minho or even Taemin. They just don't click in the same way, and that's fine. They make good coworkers, good colleagues.
But here Kibum is, sitting in the living room that Hyukjae shares with Kyuhyun and Yongsun-hyung, and he looks—
Hyukjae comes to a stop by the couch and studies Kibum's pale face and rigid posture. He clasps his hands in his lap so tightly that Hyukjae is suddenly sure that if he lets go, they'll start trembling. He looks... shaken.
Hyukjae takes a breath and another step forward and watches Kibum startle as he registers Hyukjae's presence.
"Hey," he says, watching Kibum's hands flutter a little before settling back in his lap. "Sorry, I'm... I wasn't expecting you here. Did we have plans?" Hyukjae is certain that they didn't, but it feels more polite than outright asking What the fuck is happening?
"What? No! Sorry. No. Sorry, I should've messaged you." Kibum's voice doesn't waver or crack, but there's something unsteady about it regardless, something stilted. "Hi. Hyung. Hello."
"Hi," Hyukjae echoes, sinking down on the opposite end of the couch to give Kibum some space. "Okay, look, I'm... Sorry, I'm a little confused about what's going on here. Are you okay?"
Almost immediately, Kibum's face shutters.
"I'm fine," he replies, so stiff and sharp that Hyukjae lifts his hands defensively.
"Okay," he says quickly, fighting a little against the urge to snap back. "Okay. Just asking. Just making sure."
He expects Kibum to soften or apologize or explain or... something, anything—but Kibum says nothing. The silence stretches, empty and awkward, as Hyukjae watches Kibum grit his teeth and twist his fingers and avoid Hyukjae's gaze. Hyukjae begins to wonder if Kibum will snap, if he'll stand and say it was a mistake to come over and disappear out the door without another word.
"Right," Hyukjae says once it becomes clear that Kibum is too stubborn for that to happen. "You know what, let me get you water. Unless you want something else?"
"Water's fine," Kibum replies, and Hyukjae knows he's not imagining the relief in his voice. "Thank you."
Hyukjae nods and stands and definitely doesn't flee into the kitchen; instead, he makes a strategic retreat. It's very dignified and hyung-like.
Once he's there, he leans against the kitchen island and takes a few deep breaths, thinking over the situation. And then he takes out his phone and scrolls through his contacts, searching desperately for someone who might help him deal with... whatever it is that's happening right now.
His first thought, as it often is, is to text Donghae, though he dismisses it just as quickly as he has it: Donghae would be of no use in this situation and would be more likely to make it worse. Minho? Hyukjae's thumb hovers over his name for a long moment before reluctantly scrolling away. If Minho could help, Kibum would've gone directly to him instead, and the fact that he didn't means there's a non-zero chance Minho is the cause. Jinki and Taemin are similar cases. Who does that leave? Teukie-hyung? Taeyeon?
One by one, Hyukjae considers and dismisses names, until there's no one left and he's spent far too long in the kitchen to be getting water.
"Did you have to go draw that from a well?" Kibum asks when he returns with two full glasses in hand, because even when he's upset, Kibum is still Kibum.
"Little shit," Hyukjae says, not entirely under his breath, before he hands over a glass. A flicker of amusement crosses Kibum's face, and for a beat, Hyukjae wonders if this will be it—but the moment passes and Kibum draws into himself again. It's all Hyukjae can do not to sigh.
And then, because he doesn't have any better ideas and it's been a long day, Hyukjae gives up and does what he'd been planning to do before he came home to all this: he sits back down on his end of the couch and grabs the TV remote.
"Anything you don't want to watch?" he asks as he turns the TV on.
"No sports," Kibum says immediately, then gets this very strange look on his face. "Definitely no basketball."
It's a strange stipulation, but while Hyukjae takes note, he doesn't question it.
"Fine by me," he says, and turns on a variety show rerun that miraculously features no one they know personally.
⟢⟡⟣
They're about twenty minutes into the episode when Kibum finally cracks.
"Hyung," he says, waiting for Hyukjae to tear his focus away from the TV. When he does, there's an odd, unplaceable glint in Kibum's eye for a moment, and something in his expression wavers.
"Yeah?" Hyukjae asks, trying his best to project that he is, in fact, hyung, and therefore very trustworthy and able to help with whatever Kibum's issue is. "What's up?"
Kibum's lips purse briefly, like he's not sure if he actually wants to say anything. Then he takes a breath, and on the exhale says, "My boyfriend dumped me."
Hyukjae, who's only ever heard about Kibum's boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—in passing and has never actually met him, does his level best not to wince. He fails miserably. Kibum snorts.
"Sorry," Hyukjae says, genuinely apologetic. "I didn't mean to do... And, uh, sorry that that happened? To you?"
"You suck at this," says Kibum, but doesn't look angry or any more upset than he already was, which is a relief.
"A little bit, yeah," Hyukjae admits. He waits for Kibum to keep going, to talk about what happened and why it's shaken him up so badly, but he's shut down again, looking at the TV with laser focus. For a moment, it's at the tip of Hyukjae's tongue to prod, to say something along the lines of This seems like something you'd go to your friends about. Maybe someone you're close to. Even in Hyukjae's head it sounds a little cold, though.
Maybe what Kibum needs right now is someone he isn't close to. Maybe he needs someone who's never met the ex-boyfriend before. Maybe the other non-Hyukjae queer people in his life wouldn't be as sympathetic for one reason or another.
So Hyukjae swallows back the pointed questions and looks at Kibum and nods firmly, more to himself than anything else.
"Alright. What do you need here, Kibum-ah? I can do advice, if— Yah, don't give me that look, I give good advice sometimes!" Kibum snorts, eyebrows raised high. Hyukjae mimes like he's going to throw his glass of water in Kibum's face before he continues. "Okay, fine. Are you looking for a rebound fuck? Because—"
"Hyung!" Kibum squawks, skepticism melting away in favor of something mortified and indignant and scandalized and a tiny bit tickled. It's a response that makes Hyukjae feel a little more like he's on solid ground, like he's not completely failing as a hyung. He grins.
"What? I was going to say, you're not my type, but I wouldn't mind it just this once."
Kibum makes an exasperated noise and very primly says, "I'd mind it. And you're not my type, either."
"Well, that just leaves one option, then, don't you think?" Hyukjae's grin widens as he heaves himself up from the couch. "Come on. Let's go raid Kyuhyun's alcohol stash."
For the first time that night, Kibum's shoulders relax and a smile finds its way onto his face.
⟢⟡⟣
They don't go straight to drinking; Hyukjae hasn't actually had dinner yet, and he's not really itching to get blackout drunk in a hurry. So, much to Kibum's dismay, he takes the time to pull Kyuhyun's leftovers out of the fridge and starts heating them up. After a moment, he also pulls out two packets of ramyeon and starts making those, too.
In the meanwhile, Kibum searches through the alcohol, making appreciative noises now and then. By the time Hyukjae finishes preparing the food, there's hardly any space on the table to set it out between the impressive number of bottles Kibum selected.
"That bad, huh," Hyukjae says, and just like that, Kibum opens the floodgates. Admittedly, Hyukjae doesn't listen to much of the first bit, too busy sating his suddenly ravenous hunger to focus—but it doesn't seem like Kibum particularly cares. Hyukjae is a wall for him to talk at, and he only tunes back in once he has enough in his stomach to focus.
"—and then he said my schedule sucks and that I'm emotionally unavailable," Kibum complains between a tiny bite of food and a large gulp of beer.
"Was he right? Are you?" Hyukjae asks through a mouthful of ramyeon, and laughs when Kibum gives him an absolutely acid look. "'m just asking!"
"Yeah, well. Don't." Hyukjae waits for Kibum to keep going, and unlike earlier, he does, sighing quietly. "Fine. Yeah. Probably. He's probably right. But really, isn't that just part of the job? Even if it's another idol, how am I supposed to know if I can open up to him like that? It takes time. But no,, that's my fault."
Hyukjae hums and pointedly transfers a little more ramyeon into Kibum's bowl, a silent encouragement to get something more in his stomach to soak up the alcohol to come. "He ever bring it up before today? About your schedule and your..." He waves his chopsticks vaguely, as if a different way of saying this will magically appear in the air between them. When it doesn't, he grimaces and gives up. "Your emotional unavailability. Did he ever say anything about it?"
Kibum heaves another sigh, this one louder and heavier.
"Maybe?" he makes a face. "No. No, actually, I don't think he did. We weren't exactly, you know. Talking a lot when we met up. At least not recently."
Hyukjae snorts lightly. He's had that sort of relationship before. "Healthy. How long were you dating, anyway?"
Kibum shrugs. "Three... Four months?" Kibum's brow furrows as he visibly does the math. "Four and a half months. Yeah."
"Wait," Hyukjae says, doing some math of his own and realizing— "Hold on, I thought... This isn't the same guy I was thinking of. I saw a picture once, I think. He was—He had stupid hair and an earring. Is that not...?"
"What?" Kibum sits up a little, looking very amused. His reaction only confuses Hyukjae more. "I mean, this one also had stupid hair, but no, that was... That was, what, two boyfriends ago? Come on, keep up, hyung."
"Right," Hyukjae says, a little bewildered. He feels like there's something missing here, something he isn't getting. "No, right, of course. Sorry, I haven't been paying enough attention to my hoobaes' love lives."
Kibum snorts, and then laughs loudly when Hyukjae very deliberately takes a long gulp of beer.
"Four and a half months, though," Hyukjae starts after he's had a moment to think and readjust his understanding of the situation. "That's not very long."
"It's long enough," Kibum replies, just a touch defensive.
"No, I understand. I just mean..." Hyukjae considers how to word this without it backfiring. "You seemed pretty upset earlier. I guess I just thought it was a longer-term thing." He watches Kibum carefully, and sees the slow tensing of his jaw, the way his eyes dart around, the flex of his fingers on his chopsticks.
It's enough for Hyukjae to conclude that the breakup was never the reason for Kibum coming here. He has no idea what the real reason is, and he's not sure Kibum will actually tell him before the end of the night, but he hopes he does. Just for the sake of his own curiosity.
For now, though, Hyukjae is willing to play along a little longer.
"Well, I don't mind being wrong," he says lightly. "It must've been an intense four and a half months."
"You have no idea," Kibum grumbles, relaxing. "Do you know what he said to me once? This was after—"
Hyukjae hums and listens and waits.
⟢⟡⟣
They've finished eating and have just moved back into the living room with the unopened bottles of alcohol when Kibum asks a question that fills Hyukjae's lungs with a rush of bittersweet nostalgia.
"Hyung," Kibum starts, then hesitates briefly before he visibly decides to forge ahead. "Do you remember the club?"
Hyukjae blinks, then huffs out a laugh. Kibum doesn't even have to specify further than the club; there's only one in their shared history that doesn't need a name to distinguish it.
Because at twenty-four, Hyukjae has what one might call a wild phase.
It's not too wild, of course; it can't be. But it's wild enough for him to start going out at night, first to regular clubs and bars, and then to more exclusive places when he almost gets caught out a few too many times. These new places cater to celebrities and other people with money and fame; people who require discretion and privacy. And one of those places is... It's...
It's a gay club.
Hyukjae isn't gay, or— Well, he isn't sure what he is, at this point. He has his suspicions, but he wants confirmation, wants—wants the experience. So when he overhears a hushed conversation in the hallway of a broadcast studio during a break in filming, Hyukjae keeps the name of the club in his head for weeks until the next time he can sneak out.
And when he does, it's nerve-racking and he nearly turns back and goes home a dozen times. He lingers outside the building for an unwise amount of time, wondering if the knowledge is worth it, if the experience will outweigh the possibility of getting caught and ruining everything.
But then he steps into the club for the first time, and as he looks around, he feels something slot into place in his head and his heart. His pulse races and his blood feels hot underneath the thinness of his skin, and he's terrified and exhilarated and—
And in the dimness of the dance floor, Hyukjae accidentally sways into another man and neither of them flinch or move away, but instead make eye contact as they shift closer together. When the song shifts to something slower, more syrupy and hypnotic, Hyukjae gathers his courage and moves closer still, and by the end of this song, he's laughing giddily against the man's mouth. And it's good.
Nothing else happens that first time, but Hyukjae still feels drunk on it, on the freedom and wonder of being among people who know what it's like to want what he wants. And he knows he'll come back again, just for another taste.
And he does. Weeks pass, then months, and he goes back to the gay club again and again and again. Not every time he goes out; as time goes by, he comes to find that it doesn't particularly matter to him what gender his partner is. He's heard other terms for people like himself, but some of them feel downright derogatory, and the ones that don't instead feel too technical, too clinical. And even besides all that, he just... It feels too dangerous to even think about any of them in relation to himself, let alone say anything aloud. It doesn't matter to him, anyway: a label won't change who he is and what he likes.
So he goes out and sometimes he hooks up with women, sometimes he hooks up with men, sometimes he hooks up with people who fit neither category, and sometimes he doesn't hook up with anyone at all. Sometimes he goes out just to dance without the restriction of choreography, with people who don't work with him. Once in a while, he tags along with one of the other members to a straight club he hasn't been to yet, or they tag along to one of his usual haunts.
Never to the gay club, of course. Right now that's a secret just for him, though Teukie-hyung knows that Hyukjae's been sleeping with men; it'd really only been a matter of time before he found out. Not that Hyukjae knows exactly how he did it. It's bad enough that he does, and that they'd had to have a horrible conversation about discretion and subtlety and the reality of personal happiness in their profession that'd left Hyukjae with a roiling mess of anxiety and misery in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't cry about it, though; he's in his wild phase, after all. Instead, he ends up going out to the gay club and feeling the bass thrum in his bones. If his throat feels tight and his eyes burn while he dances, well, that's no one's business but his own.
And then it's been six months, and Hyukjae is back at the gay club. Specifically, he's on the dance floor grinding against a guy who might be a professional soccer player and who unfortunately appears to have more muscle than rhythm. But the muscle feels nice under Hyukjae's hands and his mouth feels nice against the underside of Hyukjae's jaw, and he's just about to suggest they go somewhere else when he turns his head a little and startles badly. In a moment, he's shoved the soccer player away, staring at a wide-eyed Kim Kibum in dread.
"Fuck, what's wrong with you?" the soccer player says, barely audible over the thumping bass. He sounds pissed off, and Hyukjae understands why, he does, but he and Kibum haven't broken eye contact yet, and all he can think is someone else knows.
"Sorry," he manages to get out, and then repeats it as he moves away without another glance, wading through the crowd to get to Kibum. For a moment, Kibum looks like he's about to try and flee, but in the time it takes to make his decision, Hyukjae is already on him, gripping Kibum's wrist tightly and pulling him away to the fringes of the dance floor, then beyond, to one of the few quieter areas. Kibum doesn't resist.
Hyukjae keeps hold of Kibum as he draws him just close enough to have a private conversation. Kibum looks nervous, perhaps even a little cowed, and Hyukjae thinks he can feel the racing of Kibum's pulse under his fingers.
Good, Hyukjae thinks, a little viciously. It means they're equally afraid and therefore on a level playing field. He glances around, searching for other familiar faces. There's a heart-stopping moment when he thinks he sees Jonghyun dancing closer to the DJ booth, but then the strobe lights flash over his face and it's a man who looks nothing like him. Still, Hyukjae's guard stays up, and it makes him lash out.
"What are you doing here?" Hyukjae hisses, tightening his grip on Kibum's wrist and shaking it roughly. It's a mistake: When he opens his mouth to keep going, Kibum draws himself up, eyes narrowing and his mouth hardening into a line. Hyukjae hardly has time to realize what's happening before Kibum rips his arm out of Hyukjae's grasp, then steps back to put space between them.
"What does it look like? I'm gay. What else would I be doing here?" Kibum snaps. There's venom in the way he looks at Hyukjae, and his tone turns accusatory. Hyukjae doesn't even have time to wonder at the matter-of-fact way Kibum says I'm gay, as if he's said it before and wouldn't hesitate to say it again if he had to. "I think I'm the one who should be asking what you're doing here. Don't you have other places you could be, instead of invading this space? You're straight, Eunhyuk-ssi."
Hyukjae gets why he says it: Kibum has been around to watch Hyukjae flirt with women, both seriously and for fun. He's met a few of Hyukjae's girlfriends—all of them brief, intense flings that never seem to last very long—in passing. He's even heard Hyukjae say stupid shit about being gay, things that make him bite the inside of his cheek when he remembers them late at night. For all intents and purposes, and barring what Kibum witnessed a few minutes ago, Hyukjae is a straight man in a place he doesn't belong, breaching the sanctity of a place that is supposed to be a haven for someone like Kibum. To him, Hyukjae doesn't belong.
Hyukjae knows this. And it still hits this tender place that Hyukjae has tried so hard to keep hidden away; it still makes him flinch sharply, shoulders coming up and hands clenching. Kibum stares at him defiantly, almost goading, and Hyukjae knows that the longer he stands and says nothing, the worse it looks, and the worse it feels. He could just go, he could let Kibum think what he thinks, and they'd both leave disappointed in Hyukjae, but perhaps that would be safer. But as he thinks about it, the churning tangle in his gut builds, and it keeps building and building until—
"I'm not."
It falls out of Hyukjae's mouth much too quietly, much too ashamed and hurt. And there's no relief in acknowledging it, or in watching the momentary satisfaction flash across Kibum's face before he smooths it out and crosses his arms over his chest.
But it's done, and all Hyukjae can do is force his shoulders to relax, take a steadying breath, and repeat it: "I'm not. I'm not straight, and I belong here. Clearly. And fuck you."
Strangely, it's the fuck you that makes Kibum's expression crack into something softer, something more understanding, if pitying.
"Okay," Kibum says, relenting. "Sorry, I guess. But you have to see—"
"I get it," Hyukjae interrupts snappishly. He feels too big in his skin and at the same time like he doesn't have any skin at all, and the combination is prickly and stifling and painful. He shifts from one foot to another and reminds himself that he's the senior between them. He has a kind of responsibility to Kibum, regardless of how little he wants it right now, so he offers his best attempt at an olive branch: a stilted, "I haven't seen you here before."
It seems to take Kibum off-guard, because he answers more honestly than Hyukjae expects. "It's my first time here. Or anywhere like this. I, uh... A... friend of mine told me about it a while ago. I haven't been... I haven't had the time to come before tonight, though."
Hyukjae glances at Kibum sharply. "Did your friend come along with you? Or are you alone?"
"I'm alone. Why?"
Hyukjae bites his tongue to keep from swearing effusively. He almost certainly has a responsibility towards Kibum now, but he's still struggling with the aftermath of... coming out? Is that what he did? He supposes it is, technically. He can't say he enjoyed it.
"Just checking," he says, and rocks back a step, putting a little more distance between them. "Okay. Well. Enjoy your night. I'm not going to get in your w—"
"Actually," Kibum cuts in, slow but assured. There's this glint in his eye that Hyukjae doesn't know how to read. "You're a regular here?"
Hyukjae presses his lips together and shrugs cautiously. "I've been here a few times."
"Great," says Kibum with a smile that Hyukjae doesn't like. "Then you can help me out. What do I need to know? About this place, I mean, not—anything else."
Hyukjae very nearly turns on his heel and leaves the club entirely in that moment. But for all that Kibum projects confidence and self-assuredness, he's still a newcomer in this space; and even more than that, Kibum is still a dongsaeng, and Hyukjae still has a responsibility to him even if he wishes he didn't.
So instead of leaving Kibum to fend for himself, Hyukjae takes a deep breath and does his best to exhale the frustrated discomfort in his lungs. And then he begins to talk.
He tells Kibum the rules—the official ones, of course, but also the tacit, the ones Hyukjae had to figure out on his own through trial and error. He slowly leads Kibum around the perimeter of the dance floor, pointing out the men Hyukjae's been warned not to accept a drink from, let alone go home with. He nods at the DJ and tells Kibum that out of the ones who play here regularly, he's the one Hyukjae likes best—though all of the ones he's heard have been good. They walk past the bar and Hyukjae explains the best way to get a bartender's attention, though he keeps to himself that he only ever orders soda or water; even if he did drink, he wouldn't do it here, not where one slip up around an indiscreet patron could do irreparable damage to his career.
And then, because the club isn't all that big, they're back where they started, awkwardly standing together in that quiet area like a little bubble of privacy. Kibum looks like he wants to thank him, or perhaps ask more questions, and Hyukjae realizes in that moment that he'd rather not deal with either of those options. He thinks quickly, and just as Kibum opens his mouth, he fishes a condom and a packet of lube out of his jacket pocket and shoves them into Kibum's hand. His mouth immediately snaps shut as a horrified look comes over his face.
Hyukjae can't help but laugh.
"A welcoming gift," Hyukjae says, watching Kibum's cheeks go mottled pink and his lips move soundlessly. "Maybe don't use them tonight, though—just enjoy the night. Or do use them. I don't care, I'm not your boss."
"Hyung," Kibum says, high and a little cracked, but Hyukjae's had a long, bad night and doesn't particularly want to hear anything else from Kibum. He waves him off and takes another step away.
"Have a good time, Kibum-ah. Just don't be stupid or anything. I don't want to see your face on any news sites tomorrow morning." He gives a little nod. "I'll see you when I see you."
"Hyung!" Kibum calls out, but Hyukjae's already turned around and started for the exit.
It's only after he leaves that he realizes he never asked Kibum to keep this strictly between the two of them, and that, combined with everything else, has him ducking into a secluded alleyway to hyperventilate a little. He calms down eventually, and manages to get home in one scandal-free piece, but he's on edge.
He stays that way for a while—long enough for Donghae to start hovering around him worriedly, though he knows better than to ask what, exactly, is stressing Hyukjae out—until it becomes clear that Kibum isn't going to even subtly allude to it in their private conversations, let alone outright tell anyone they work with. Hyukjae eventually realizes that he'd never actually needed to ask Kibum for secrecy; this is a shared secret, and Kibum has just as much to lose as he does if either of them let anything slip.
And once Hyukjae realizes that, he relaxes enough to start going back to the club. He and Kibum rarely cross paths there, but when they do, they share a nod and do their own separate things. Even in this space, they aren't quite friends, even if they share an understanding.
And time passes. Things change. Hyukjae changes, slowly but surely, until the shame and discomfort is distant and disconnected and then, eventually, gone altogether. He still goes to the club, albeit less frequently as the years pass: work becomes busier and busier, especially after he and Donghae become a unit.
The last time he goes is right before he enlists. It's a good night, even if he doesn't hook up with anyone. The dancing is fun, and the drinking is good, but... At that point, there are other places with an atmosphere he likes more, and men—friends, not strangers—whom he can sleep with without any fear of getting caught. It's just not the place for him anymore.
And as he leaves the building that night, he takes one last look and commits it to memory, knowing that he probably won't see it again.
So yes. Hyukjae remembers the club. He couldn't possibly forget it, even if it's been years.
"I do," he tells Kibum. "Why?"
Kibum smiles, rueful. "Oh, I heard it closed down pretty recently. I wondered if you knew anything about it."
"Oh. No, I don't. I didn't realize." Hyukjae isn't entirely surprised; lockdowns and gathering rules took their toll on a lot of those sorts of places, and if anything, it feels like a little miracle that it hadn't closed years ago. Still: "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Yeah. I was, too." Kibum pauses, picking at the couch cushion seam, before he continues quietly: "I think about it sometimes, you know. About that club and about how many of those men had wives or girlfriends at home. We didn't really think about it back then, did we? But there must have been at least a few that had other people waiting for them. I wonder how many of those men lied to us and to their partners."
"What—" Hyukjae starts, but Kibum keeps going, brow furrowing.
"Do you think they lied to their friends, too? Like, about where they were going when they went to the club? About themselves altogether? Do you think— Is that even friendship? If you can't tell someone who you are? Like that?"
Hyukjae frowns slowly. "That's not... It's not that easy. You know that. Come on, it's bad enough now, and it was worse then. You— Some people can't be out. We can't be out to everyone. You know that. I know you know that."
Hyukjae expects Kibum to relent a little, to understand, but for some reason, all he does is shrug noncommittally and look down at his glass.
"What is this about, Kibum-ah?" Hyukjae asks when Kibum doesn't continue, and then watches the walls come up all over again.
"Nothing. Just thinking." Kibum gives him a smile that doesn't entirely meet his eyes. "You know what? Let's skip the wine. Where's the— Is the soju by you?"
"Yah, I went through the trouble of stealing this out of the fridge in Kyuhyun's room when you complained about the wine we had in the kitchen and now you don't want it?" Hyukjae grumbles, but he swaps out the bottle of expensive wine for a bottle of soju and resigns himself to getting mildly wasted in the pursuit of comforting a dongsaeng.
⟢⟡⟣
"I'm tired of talking about him," Kibum says half an hour later, drunk enough not to realize that he's spent a grand total of five minutes of that time talking about his ex-boyfriend. It may not even be the one he just broke up with; he tends to avoid referring to his exes by name, which is as understandable as it is confusing. "Let's talk about something different."
Hyukjae, who is still rather more sober, can only nod and hide a smile behind his glass. "Okay," he says easily. "Fine. Let's talk about—"
"What about you?" Kibum interrupts. "What about your love life? Who're you dating these days? You can tell me if it's a woman this time, I'll still accept your choices."
Hyukjae chokes on a laugh. "You'll still— Okay? Thank you. But it's not... There's no one. I'm not dating anyone. I haven't for a while."
Kibum gives him a mildly annoyed look, as though Hyukjae's singleness is an affront to him personally. "No one? Nobody at all? Why?"
"I've been busy," Hyukjae says, but Kibum rolls his eyes.
"We're all busy. I'm busy, and I dated—"
"And look how that turned out," Hyukjae mutters, then holds his hands up in surrender when Kibum shoots him a dirty look.
"I dated. And you've been busy in the past and you've still dated around. C'mon, hyung, there must be someone, but I haven't heard any rumors lately. You can tell me. You always have someone."
"I do not!" Hyukjae protests, laughing loudly. "Why are you doing this? You're not always like this when you're drunk. I swear, I don't have anybody."
"Seriously?" Kibum squints at him, then sighs. "Fine. I don't believe you, but fine. Who're you hooking up with, then?"
"My hand," Hyukjae retorts crudely, hoping that that gets Kibum to relent, but knowing from the skepticism in his stare that it won't. "Seriously? Fine. The last time was with Choi Youngjun. Not recentl—"
"Old news!" Kibum sighs, loud and dramatic. "You've hooked up with him before. Everybody knows that. Ah! Unless—"
"It was about a year ago, not during Street Man Fighter," he cuts in, anticipating where this is going. Kibum boos.
"You're no fun at all," says Kibum, thunking his head back against the couch backrest. "Where's your sense of adventure and scandal? You used to be fun. Is this what it's like to get old?"
Hyukjae snorts. "Sorry that my sex life no longer amuses you, but I really have been busy."
"With what? What's more important than amusing me?" Kibum says, nudging Hyukjae with his foot. "Come on, tell me. Quickly."
"Tour, for one," Hyukjae retorts, shoving Kibum's foot away. "And schedules, and contr—"
"Wait, wait. That's right," Kibum interrupts, face scrunching up into something even more skeptical. "You're telling me you didn't even get laid on tour? Seriously?"
"I don't hook up on tour." Hyukjae huffs, mildly annoyed, and then more than mildly annoyed when Kibum mutters, "Since when?"
"Since always," he snaps, reaching for the soju again. He quickly refills Kibum's glass and nods his grudging thanks when Kibum returns the favor. "Do you really think I could hook up when Lee Donghae's always around, constantly barging into my hotel room? Or nagging me about where I've been and why I didn't take him with me?" He shakes his head and does his best to keep his scowl from morphing into a fond smile. He's fairly certain it doesn't work.
"Ah," Kibum says, and then goes quiet for a moment, turning his glass around in his fingers, staring at it like it holds the answers to the universe. He's so drunk. "Well. I guess it's not something he has to think about for himself, so..."
Hyukjae pauses with his shot of soju halfway to his mouth, confused. "Oh? It's not?"
"Well, yeah." Kibum drains his own cup and shrugs, easy and nonchalant, but there's something off about it, a certain tightness in his shoulders. "He's with Minho now, isn't he?"
Hyukjae stares. "He's... what?"
"With Minho," Kibum says, a little impatient. "Choi Minho. They're dating."
"Donghae," Hyukjae says. "My Donghae. Super Junior's Lee Donghae. He's dating Choi Minho." Hyukjae can't help the incredulous laughter that bubbles around the words. "Yah, what are you... How much have you had to drink? Were you sneaking shots while I wasn't looking? What are y—"
"Ah, hyung, seriously?" Kibum makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, eyeing Hyukjae like he wants to kick him or something. Hyukjae scoots out of range just in case. "Seriously, are you... You don't have to pretend. You don't have to keep it a secret for them anymore, it's fine. I walked in on them earlier."
"You walked in on them... What? Hanging out? Working out? That's not—"
"Fucking," Kibum cuts in, face pinched, and all the laughter drains out of Hyukjae's body, leaving only a rictus of a smile on his lips. "I walked in on them fucking in the dining area at Minho's place."
"What," Hyukjae somehow manages to say through lips that suddenly feel numb.
"Yeah. They had basketball on in the background like porn," Kibum says mirthlessly, and starts tipping to one side like he's lost the will to stay upright. The couch cushion gives a soft poof when his head lands. Hyukjae feels like he's out of his body a little bit. "Jocks. So, anyway, yeah. It's not a secret anymore. You don't have to pretend you don't know."
"I don't," Hyukjae says faintly. "I didn't. I didn't know. What."
He watches Kibum blink, then lift his head an inch. "What? You have to. Donghae-hyung tells you everything. You tell him everything. What are you talking about, you didn't know?"
"I didn't know," Hyukjae repeats. Distantly, he feels the way his heart thunders in his chest, the way his breath shakes. Kibum looks at him for a long moment as the blood rushes loudly in his ears.
"Oh," Kibum whispers. His eyes are wide. "Oh, shit. You really didn't know."
Hyukjae's chest goes painfully tight, and he looks away, at the empty glass in his hands. After a beat, he hears Kibum sit up, and shortly afterward, a bottle drifts into his field of view, refilling the glass.
"C'mon, hyung," Kibum says firmly, shoving the bottle into Hyukjae's hand to prompt him to return the gesture. "We're not drunk enough for this shit."
Hyukjae laughs. It's a little hollow, but it's a laugh all the same.
"Cheers, Kibum-ah," he says, and downs the shot.
⟢⟡⟣
The empty bottles accumulate on the table, bit by bit. Hyukjae wishes he had the wherewithal to care that they're probably drinking too much too fast, but... he doesn't. He's drunk and that's great, even though it means his coordination sucks and he can't get through a girl group cover dance with Kibum without whacking his shin against the coffee table and laughing so hysterically that he needs to lie down.
"Hyung, you're runnining— No. Ruining. The cover," Kibum whines, and tries to kick him. It misses wildly. "Ugh. Ugh."
"Don't throw up," Hyukjae calls up to him from where he's starfished on the floor. "Kkyu, he says you gotta keep it in. If you throw up, your body's gonna, like... adapt. To the throwing up. And then you're gonna keep doing it. You know?"
"No? Stop talking about throwing up." Kibum sighs, then carefully lowers himself to the floor beside Hyukjae. It takes a very long time. "I hate it when it gets all... spinning."
Hyukjae laughs and fumbles to pat his knee. He mostly makes it. "We're fucked up."
"A little bit," Kibum admits. "You still sad?"
Hyukjae snorts. "Sad? Why— Pfft. 'm not sad. That's stupid. Why would I be sad?"
"I dunno." Kibum leans his head back against the couch. "I'm not sad. I don't care. Right? Like. Minho can fuck whoever he wants."
Hyukjae wrinkles his nose at the weird wobble in his stomach, lacing his hands over his belly like that will help soothe it. "Yeah. Exactly."
"Who even— Like, over the dining table? That's so. What about hygiene? What about everybody who's gotta eat at that table now? Huh?" Kibum thumps his fist against the floor. "I don't even care. I don't wanna know. He doesn't have to come out to me."
Hyukjae blinks. "Yeah. Nobody has to come out. To anybody."
"But it'd be nice if they did," Kibum grumbles. Hyukjae wonders fleetingly if the hurt he hears in Kibum's voice is really there or if it's a soju mirage. "It'd be nice to know. Especially if I've been out to them since... fucking forever, it feels like. It just—it doesn't make sense. And it sucks. Does he not trust me?"
"Maybe he didn't know," Hyukjae says, a little resigned to having to talk this through. "Until recently, I mean. Like. That he's... not... straight? Whatever he is. Maybe he just. Looked at Donghae across the gym one day and he fell in love all of a sudden. With Donghae's... back. Shoulders. Or whatever."
"You think they're in love? Not just sleeping together?" Kibum sounds skeptical, but Hyukjae nods as best he can without lifting his head off the floor.
"I know they are," he says, all too soft around the edges, almost wistful. He doesn't care enough to rein it in. "Gotta be. It's Lee Donghae. He doesn't just... mess around. He falls in love. He likes romance and promises and all that." Hyukjae breathes, and his hands shift up from his stomach to press against the ache in his ribs. It doesn't help, but he hadn't thought it would, really; still, it's worth a try. "Soft shit, you know? Flowers. He doesn't sleep with friends."
"I mean... Clearly he does, actually." Kibum tips his head to the side, looking at Hyukjae like he's trying to solve a puzzle. "You knew, then? That he— That Donghae-hyung's like us? He told you?"
"No," Hyukjae admits. He swallows thickly. "We don't... talk about that. But I used to wonder."
He'd wondered a lot, actually, yet he'd always convinced himself that he'd imagined the way Donghae's eyes lingered on another man's body, the way he seemed almost indifferent to the women he'd dated over the years. That what he'd seen in Donghae was just... projection and hope.
"Huh." Kibum frowns. "He knows about you, though? Or is that part of what you don't talk about?"
Hyukjae snorts softly. "He knows. I don't... It's not a secret. I don't keep it a secret anymore. And he has eyes."
"True," Kibum says. "We don't, though. Apparently."
"Apparently," Hyukjae echoes, but even as he says it, he begins to remember certain small details: Donghae's restlessness during the Latin American leg of their tour, like he'd been even more eager than usual to return home; a condom wrapper on Donghae's bedside table, somehow missed during a clean up; the odd new tension and awkwardness packed into Donghae's frame when Minho came to the radio show for the first time. There are more of those moments, he's certain of it, and he feels stupid for not having fit those pieces together before now.
"Hyung? Are you listening?" Kibum has apparently crawled over: his face looms over Hyukjae's, swaying just a little bit. Hyukjae blinks away memories and focuses. "You fall asleep with your eyes open or something?"
"No. Just thinking." Hyukjae swallows, then pushes Kibum away and sits up slowly. "Trying to remember."
"Remember?"
"Mm. Yeah. He can't usually hide stuff from me, you know. It always slips out." He looks down at his hands, at the lines in his palms and the birthmark on his third finger. "Trying to remember what I missed."
Kibum is quiet for a long moment. "You blame yourself for not noticing?"
"Maybe? Not blame, just—" He shrugs a little helplessly. "I dunno. This... Does he think I wouldn't approve?"
"Would you?" Kibum asks. There's something tight in his voice, strained. "Do you? Approve of them?"
No, I don't.
"Yeah. Of course I do," Hyukjae says, and it's like ash in his mouth, gritty and acrid and horrible. "Whatever makes Donghae happy. Whoever makes Donghae happy. And Minho is great. I like Minho. Of course I approve. Don't you?"
He smiles at Kibum. Kibum does not smile back.
"Ah, hyung," he sighs after a few long seconds of silence. It's soft enough to make Hyukjae flinch. "You're so full of shit."
⟢⟡⟣
They end up drinking Kyuhyun's fancy wine after all.
"These're the wrong cups," Kibum complains for the millionth time since they popped the cork, holding his coffee mug up to the light. "You have the right glasses. I saw them. Why're we using these?"
"Because," Hyukjae says, and pulls his knees up to his chest, cradling the mug between both hands. "I feel like it. And we never use these for coffee. And it's my apartment. And I'm sad."
"It's the dorm," Kibum says. "I saw Omnipotent Interviewing—No. That's not it. Omni...vo... Fuck, whatever. You know what I mean. I saw that. And it's Kyuhyun-hyung's apartment more than it's yours." He pauses to take a dainty sip of wine. "Why're you sad? You said you weren't. Be angry!"
"Why should I be angry about love?" Hyukjae says a little morosely. "Good for them."
"If it's so good, why're you sad?" Kibum prods stubbornly. "If it's all fine, why're you drinking? C'mon, hyung. Tell me. Why—"
"Because I'm in love with him," Hyukjae interrupts, and Kibum's mouth snaps shut with the click of teeth. "Donghae, not Minho. obviously."
"Okay," Kibum says after a moment, and Hyukjae wonders if he's too drunk to pretend to be surprised. "Of course you are."
"Of course I am," Hyukjae echoes, quiet. "But I gave up. I did. Seriously, Kibum-ah, I gave up. A million years ago. I never even... I didn't expect anything from it anyway. You know?" He waits for Kibum to nod.
Kibum doesn't nod. Instead, his brow furrows. "Why, though?"
"Why what?"
"Why didn't you expect anything? Or, like. Did you try? Sounds like you didn't try." Kibum makes a face that Hyukjae can't interpret and his voice turns wistful. "Minho always says you should try."
"Well, then, maybe that's why he's with Donghae now and I'm not," Hyukjae says. He means for it to sound snappish and annoyed, but it's just resigned and sad. He's sad.
"Hyung," Kibum says, soft and pitying. Hyukjae looks down into his mug so he doesn't have to see that same pity written on his face. "Oh, hyung."
"Shut up," Hyukjae mutters. "It's fine. Everything is fine. I'm happy for them. They're good together. They both feel so much. And they like all the same things. They watch sports and exercise for fun and probably—probably go on gym dates. I hate going to the gym with him." He swallows. "They're a good match. It's great."
"You don't believe that." Kibum sounds so certain of it. "Why are you pretending you believe that? Also— Also, I don't get you."
Hyukjae snorts. "The feeling's mutual."
Kibum makes an impatient noise. "That's not— I just mean. 'Cause you gave up, right? That's what you said, but... Did you really?"
"Of course I did," Hyukjae says, but even as it comes out of his mouth, he wonders if that's still true. And if it's not—and it's not, he realizes with a jolt—when did it all start to change? When was it that he started to let himself hope again? How long ago?
Was it over the course of their latest tour? Was it when they started doing the radio show together three days a week? Was it after the lockdowns? During? Before? He knows for certain that it wasn't right after they'd both been discharged from the military. So was it—
Was it when they started talking about not renewing with SM? Was that it? Was that what did it?
It was, he realizes. It was somewhere after that warm night in Bali where they'd sat together by the pool and Hyukjae had talked about all the things he wished they could do and Donghae had said, Why don't we just do it ourselves? and meant it. It'd been sometime during the subsequent talks about their future, one where they'd always be tied together not because a company had mandated it but because they'd chosen it.
Somewhere along the line, in the midst of all that, a part of Hyukjae that'd lain dormant for a decade had woken and started to sprout wings. And that part of him had thought about getting to have forever with Donghae, about maybe: maybe when everything is said and done, maybe when they retire, maybe, maybe, maybe.
Maybe then they'd be together.
And now all Hyukjae has is dead hope weighing down his lungs and a mug of wine between his hands and an annoyingly perceptive dongsaeng at his side.
"I thought I did," Hyukjae quietly amends, because Kibum is looking at him expectantly. "I thought I gave up. I really did."
"But you didn't," Kibum says. He watches Hyukjae take a too-big swallow of wine and for once isn't judgy about it. "And now..."
"And now everything sucks again." Hyukjae tries to smile but can't. "Kibum-ah... Kibum-ah, what do I do."
Kibum looks away, then sets his jaw and looks back at Hyukjae. Not for the first time in the evening, Hyukjae wonders if the reason why Kibum was (and still is, even though he's doing his best to hide it) so upset is because he's in a similar boat as Hyukjae's. He knows better than to ask.
"You just have to move on, hyung." It's soft and kind and merciless. Hyukjae closes his eyes against the sting.
"Yeah," he says, and breathes through the hurt. "Just gotta move on."
⟢⟡⟣
Hyukjae falls in love with Lee Donghae over the course of almost a decade. He gives up on him over the course of a single conversation.
"Who you choose to sleep with is— I can't stop you. But you have to understand this: Even if you fall in love with someone," Leeteuk—because this is Super Junior's leader Leeteuk speaking, not Teukie-hyung or Jungsoo-hyung—says in that terrible conversation after he finds out about the gay club, "and even if he loves you back... Hyukjae-yah, you have to understand. You absolutely can't da— No, listen to me."
"I don't want to," Hyukjae says, trying to shake off the hand Leeteuk has on his wrist. And he's being childish and desperate, he knows he is, but he sees Donghae in his mind's eye and his heart shakes. "Why not? Why can't I have this one fucking thing? I can keep it secret, I already—"
"There's a difference. This isn't... What you're doing is dangerous enough. But a relationship?" Leeteuk squeezes his wrist, shakes it firmly. "We're not meant for that. It doesn't work. You're an idol. You're part of a group. You represent more than yourself."
Hyukjae stares at Leeteuk, at the man who is his leader and his friend and his brother, and feels this deep, horrible sense of betrayal sink in.
"I don't want to represent more than myself," Hyukjae says, stubborn even if he knows he's fighting a losing battle. "I want to be me. I want—"
"Then you chose the wrong profession." Leeteuk looks at him, firm and inflexible. "And you should've thought about that before you debuted. We've lost too much. We— This doesn't affect only you, no matter how much you wish it did. Do you understand that? Tell me that you do, Eunhyuk-ah. Tell me you can see beyond yourself."
It's a low blow. It's such a fucking low blow and Hyukjae hates it because it's effective. Because Hyukjae—like all the rest of them—can see the cracks spiderwebbing across the façade that is Super Junior. They've lost too much in such a short time. They can't lose Eunhyuk, too.
Hyukjae tongues at his cheek and blinks rapidly against the burn in his eyes.
"What if I already have someone I love?" he asks, shaky and cracked. "What if I know he's it for me? What if he's— What if he's also an idol?" Wouldn't that be okay?
He doesn't know why he says it; he has the answer even before Leeteuk meets his eyes, steady and pitying.
"Then you give him up. For both of you."
Hyukjae nods, looking away. He breathes, deep and steadying, and nods again.
"Okay," he says, because it's the only thing he can say at this point. He's a little wild, but he's not stupid. He understands. He does.
⟢⟡⟣
He doesn't, but he will.
Years later, as he lies in bed after one simple slip on someone else's part nearly ruins his entire career, he thinks of that conversation with Leeteuk. He turns it over in his head, remembering it differently. He thinks of it with new context, without the anger and the despair of the moment, and realizes:
Ah. This is what hyung meant.
Because no matter how careful they'd been, it'd all come crashing down on their heads, hers just as much as his. He can only imagine how bad it might've been if he'd been with another man; if he'd been with Donghae.
He texts Teukie-hyung later that night. It's nothing long, just a simple you were right. He knows he won't see it anytime soon, but he has to send it anyway. And maybe, when Teukie-hyung gets his first enlistment leave, Hyukjae will explain and apologize face to face.
⟢⟡⟣
(It's years after that, after he's finished his military service, that he looks at himself and his peers and the world around him and thinks:
My life is too short to be unhappy.
And in the years that follow, he starts dating again—women and men and anyone else who wants him—soon after that realization. And maybe he vacillates between too clingy and too reserved, and never quite settles in; maybe his relationships are more like flings that burn bright for a short while before they inevitably flicker out. It doesn't matter: he enjoys them for as long as they last and tries to stay friends with his exes.
He's fine.
He's happy with that.)
⟢⟡⟣
"Hyung."
Kibum's voice is close to Hyukjae's ear, his hand resting lightly on Hyukjae's shoulder. Hyukjae doesn't remember when he'd closed his eyes, but they blink open slowly. The world is blurry and gray.
"Hyung," Kibum says again, tired but insistent. "'m going home now."
"K'bum-ah," Hyukjae slurs, then groans as he realizes he's flat on the floor again. He doesn't remember when that happened, either, but he regrets it; hauling himself upright is a little like moving through molasses on a cold day. He groans again. "Wha' time's it? I fell asleep? When?"
"Dunno. I didn't notice when." Kibum scrubs his hand over his face. "It's, like... almost three in the morning. I'm gonna go home now. Just saying bye."
"Bye," Hyukjae says, squinting at Kibum blearily. "Wait. Ah. You wanna stay over? I got a tent in my room. I can sleep there. You can take my bed. Or sleep out here. One of us. Ugh."
"Don't throw up," says Kibum, and Hyukjae makes a sound that's supposed to be a laugh, but comes out a bit more like a gurgle. "Thanks for offering, but I wanna go home. I miss my bed."
He sounds drunkenly plaintive, and Hyukjae understands it deeply. He also misses his bed. He should probably get into it.
"You sure? It's no trouble."
"I'm sure."
Hyukjae looks at him for a few seconds, then shrugs. "Okay. Your choice. Whatever you want."
Kibum nods and clumsily pats Hyukjae's shoulder, then uses it to push himself to his feet. "Thanks, hyung. For... this, I guess." He gestures at the empty bottles scattered around the coffee table. "And listening. And sorry for telling you about them."
Hyukjae gives a sigh that's bone-deep weary. "It's fine. Get home safe, Kibum-ah."
Kibum waves, just a little bit awkward, before he stumbles away to the door. Hyukjae doesn't have it in him to do more than watch his retreating back, then listen closely for the beep of the door opening and closing behind Kibum.
And then the apartment is quiet and still, lonelier than it's ever been before. Hyukjae wonders if Kyuhyun felt this lonely when it was only him living here while he was enlisted. He should ask, even if he's fairly certain Kyuhyun won't tell him the truth. But Hyukjae is usually pretty good at hearing the things other people don't say, at picking up the missing information hidden away in their expressions.
Or maybe he isn't. Maybe—
Hyukjae shakes his head sharply and then has to close his eyes against the way the room spins.
"Okay," he whispers to himself. "Okay."
He takes a few deep breaths, then looks at the mess he and Kibum made of the living room. For a brief moment, he eyes the bottles they didn't get to and considers pouring himself a few more shots. Even in his current state, that seems dangerous, though, so he just sighs and heaves himself to his feet. He sways a little, then begins the arduous task of cleaning up.
He does a half-assed job at best. The unfinished bottles do mostly make it back where they belong, because the threat of what Kyuhyun will do if he sees them out is excellent motivation. The glasses also make it into the sink, though he knows better than to attempt to wash dishes in this state, even if he's sure to be scolded about it tomorrow. He runs out of steam entirely when it comes to the empty bottles; the best he can do is move them to the dining table.
And then, as he stands in the dining area with a half-empty glass of water in his hand, the exhaustion truly hits, and with the exhaustion, a gut-wrenching sadness. It's all he can do to drag his feet to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, then to his bedroom to change his pants and shirt.
He sinks into his bed with a soft groan and falls asleep before he can even think to peel off his socks.
⟢⟡⟣
Because Hyukjae simply cannot catch a break, he startles awake hours earlier than he wants to, thanks to the person he least—and most—wants to see.
"Yah, Lee Hyukjae, wake up!" Donghae calls, much too loud for the time of day, and Hyukjae snaps out of a dreamless sleep, flailing wildly and sending a pillow to the floor in the process. He's barely opened his eyes before Donghae throws his body fully onto the bed, knocking the wind out of Hyukjae's lungs as he lands on Hyukjae's torso.
"Wha—" Hyukjae gasps out, disoriented, as he shoves at the arms that trap him in place. It's a losing battle. "What the fuck?"
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Donghae says as he finally rolls off of him, moving back onto his knees. "Rise and shine!"
Hyukjae glares and turns over, then shoves his head under his pillow for good measure. His heart races. "Get out."
Donghae, naturally, does not get out. Instead, he laughs brightly and digs under the blankets until he finds Hyukjae's ankle, tugging insistently. "Hyukjae, it's time to get up."
"If you don't leave right now, I will kick you in your stupid handsome face," Hyukjae grumbles, and immediately regrets it, clenching his jaw. Will he have to stop calling Donghae handsome, now that he's with Minho? It's been so long since Donghae last dated that he can't remember how this used to go. Will they still have this? Will Donghae still burst into Hyukjae's space unannounced, like he belongs there? Or will this fade away? They're older now; maybe the things that didn't change before will change now. Maybe Hyukjae will have to get used to—
Too late, he realizes that Donghae has shifted again, his fingers creeping into Hyukjae's sock and brushing against his foot as he peels it down. Hyukjae hates how it makes his breath catch, how strangely intimate that one stupid thing feels.
"What are—" And then Donghae's fingers press against the arch of his foot, tickling, and Hyukjae makes a noise that's mostly a screech, but a little bit an ugly laugh. Donghae doesn't relent even when Hyukjae tries to kick him, just takes hold of his ankle again and keeps going.
(Hyukjae wishes he didn't relish this just a little. Wishes there wasn't a part of him that soaks in this contact, this attention.)
"Stop that! Oh my god, Lee Donghae, what—" He finally manages to tug his ankle out of Donghae's grasp, scrambling upright with his knees tucked against his chest and his feet safely out of Donghae's range. "What is wrong with you?"
Donghae takes that as the rhetorical it is, instead rolling onto his back and laughing. The sound of his laughter makes Hyukjae's heart clench painfully. It's so bright and warm and he just—
He loves it. He loves Donghae. He doesn't think he'll ever stop loving Donghae.
And that hurts. Hyukjae wonders if it'll ever stop hurting. Wonders if maybe it'll dull with time, if he'll learn to be genuinely happy for him. He hopes so.
Hyukjae listens to Donghae's laughter taper into something quieter, then takes a breath and asks, "What are you doing here?"
"Do I need a reason?" Donghae turns, grinning—and then looks at Hyukjae, really looks, and the grin slowly melts away. Hyukjae isn't totally sure what he sees, but he knows that he's too hungover and upset and aches too much to smooth over his edges the way he normally would. After a beat, Donghae sits up. "I wanted to talk to you about something."
Hyukjae can hear the change in Donghae's voice, the contriteness, like he wants to placate whatever's making Hyukjae upset, but it's what he says that makes him even more upset. It's so obvious now that he's come here to tell Hyukjae about Minho; that Kibum catching them in the act has spurred him to confess. He's trying to get ahead of it, and Hyukjae doesn't blame him for it. He just wonders if he's the first person Donghae's telling like this, or if Teukie-hyung was, or—
Hyukjae drops his head to his knees and inhales, trying to steady himself for what's to come. He can do this. He can. He can.
No, he can't.
Not now. Not yet.
"I need a shower before I can do this," Hyukjae says as he gets off the bed, eyes on the wall. He can hear the way his own voice shakes with emotion, but he hopes that Donghae can't.
It's a small mercy that Donghae doesn't say anything as he grabs a towel and slips out of the room without a backwards look.
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He takes probably too long in the shower, but it's necessary. He needs the time to coach himself on how he'll react, on what face he'll show to Donghae when he comes clean. He doesn't think he has it in himself to be effusively happy for him, but he thinks he can manage a smile and a few questions about when and how before he begs off with a hangover headache. He can do that.
He takes a deep breath and rinses the conditioner out of his hair and the soap off his body. He turns off the water and goes about his post-shower routine and wishes that going through those motions was more soothing than it is. And then he's moisturized and dressed and brushed and combed and—
And he stares into the still-foggy mirror and lets himself have one more minute.
One minute to wonder if there'd been a moment he'd missed somewhere in their shared history: a moment where he could've just told Donghae and it would've been... alright. Where they could've started something. He wonders if he'll be thinking about that moment for the rest of his life.
Probably.
And then the minute is up. He straightens up and pads to his room.
Donghae sits at the edge of his bed, anxiously fidgeting with the drawstring of his hood in his hand. Hyukjae looks at him and feels... so much more for him than he's ever felt for anyone else. He loves him.
He loves him.
And he can let Donghae go once more. It'll be okay.
It has to be.
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(And it is.)
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SHINee Kim Kibum
March XX, 2023
Super Junior Eunhyuk: 👍 👅 🍑 💞│
SHINee Kim Kibum: ?????│
SHINee Kim Kibum: oh GROSS│
SHINee Kim Kibum: but congratulations, i guess│
SHINee Kim Kibum: oh my god you're fucking again aren't you│
Super Junior Eunhyuk: minho's single, by the way│1
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