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Odd things have a habit of happening on otherwise ordinary days—Niki knows this well. Isn’t that how fairy tales usually begin? Once upon a time, in a faraway land... —a soft prelude before something strange unfolds.
For Niki, it didn’t begin in some distant kingdom. It started in the most mundane way possible; in a testosterone-filled dorm, with him sprawled out and determined to do absolutely nothing. His once upon a time was a movie playing in the background.
That was the beginning, apparently.
The dorm had long since settled into its own rhythm, each member drifting toward whatever pocket of comfort the little free time they had could offer. Sunghoon and Jake often slipped out to roam the streets of Hongdae. Jay followed Jungwon, and whatever they were getting into, Niki decided he was better off not knowing. Heeseung was more of a ghost—his bedroom door perpetually shut, only occasionally betraying his presence with a muffled curse or the rapid-fire clicks of a keyboard mid-game.
Sometimes, Niki tagged along with his hyungs—usually Jake or Sunghoon—joining them for long sessions at the gym. There was something grounding in it: the steady burn of muscle, the clean ache of effort, a sharp contrast to the messier weight of mental strain. Other times, when the pressure felt unbearable and he was feeling particularly reckless, he’d find himself tucked into the shadows of some discreet club, a stranger’s lips parted around his cock, chasing release like it owed him something.
Today, though, he feels content—like a cat stretching out its back under the summer heat. Practice yesterday had been torture, and he desperately needed the rare mercy of a week-long break. He decides to spend it exactly like this: sprawled out on the couch, letting it cradle him and his aching body. He could’ve gone upstairs to his bedroom, but after eating in the kitchen and catching sight of temptation in the form of the cushions, he found himself sinking into them in less than a second.
He hears the television flick on first, followed by the familiar rhythmic clicks as the remote cycles through menus. Then the couch dips—someone settling into the cushions beside him. He cracks one eye open.
Sunoo is there, sitting right by his head, legs tucked beneath him, scrolling through movie options with practiced ease.
“Movie?” Niki mumbles, eyes still half-lidded.
Sunoo nods without looking away from the screen. “Yup.” Then, glancing down at him, “Scoot over.”
Niki doesn’t argue. He shifts lazily, pressing his back against the couch to make room.
Sunoo finally settles on a movie—some psychological horror with a suspiciously cute poster—and presses play without asking for a final vote. Not that Niki minds. He’s already halfway folded into the couch, arm tucked under his head, waiting.
The couch is too small. It’s always been too small. At this point in their careers, they could definitely afford a new one—maybe even two, side by side—but no one’s bothered. Not even Jungwon, and if anyone were going to take the initiative, it’d be him. But even he just shrugs and perches on the armrest when there’s no space left.
Niki figures they’ve all grown attached to the stupid thing. The couch’s seams are frayed. One leg wobbles. The cushions are half-deflated and permanently smell like the mix of cheap detergent and burnt ramen. But it’s been with them since debut—before the tours, before the dorm upgrades, before the exhaustion that felt like second skin.
He can’t bring himself to hate it.
Honestly, it’s the only place he can lie down next to Sunoo anymore. Their bedrooms are on separate floors now—Niki’s upstairs, Sunoo’s down—and the days of sneaking into Sunoo’s room late at night are long gone. Even when he does try, especially during those rare moments when all of them end up sprawled in the living room after midnight, it always ends the same way: Niki attempting to squeeze into Sunoo’s bed, and Sunoo kicking him out with an eye-roll and a muttered, “Get off, you’re too huge.”
Gone were the days of peaceful bed-sharing, of curling up beside each other without someone’s foot ending up in the other’s face. But the couch? It still makes space for them, even if barely.
Sunoo drops beside him now, the line of their shoulders barely touching. He pulls a blanket over both of them and nudges Niki’s knee with his own, wordlessly claiming his spot.
Niki smirks, nudging back. “You could’ve picked a better movie.”
“We haven’t even started, and you’re already whining.”
“I’ve seen this one before.”
Sunoo rolls his eyes, settling deeper into the cushions. “Then, by all means—shut up and suffer.”
“Whatever.” Niki relents with a small grin as he drapes an arm around Sunoo’s waist and pulls him closer, more instinct than thought.
They’re halfway through the movie when it happens.
The room is dim, lit only by the soft, shifting glow of the television. The blinds are drawn, muffling the outside world into silence, save for the occasional hum of dialogue and distant sound effects drifting from the screen.
Sunoo’s warmth is steady beside him, like a heater pressed close in the quiet. It seeps into Niki’s skin, heavy and comforting, dragging him deeper into the pull of sleep. His body relaxes on instinct, breath slowing, limbs going slack.
They often end up this way, with Niki's head tucked into the curve of Sunoo’s neck, breath ghosting over skin, his senses full of his hyung. Sunoo smells like he always does—clean and sweet, like freshly dried laundry, all powder and soft fabric and something just distinctly him.
When Sunoo shifts, pressing his back more firmly against the younger's chest—maybe just to get comfortable, maybe without thinking—Niki feels it.
Something soft and barely there, but undeniable. Two slight bumps are digging into his chest, impossible to ignore with how close they are.
He stills, breath catching for a moment, uncertain whether to move or say something—but Sunoo doesn’t seem to notice. He just keeps watching the screen, eyes fixed on the movie, expression calm and completely at ease, like nothing’s out of the ordinary.
Confused, Niki slips a curious hand between them, like maybe he imagined it. His palm grazes the spot on Sunoo’s back, pressing lightly against the subtle rise. His curls his fingers just slightly, aiming for a soft squeeze.
Then—like a jolt—Sunoo jerks as if electrocuted.
He lurches forward with a sharp inhale, scrambling to get away, but in his panic, his footing slips. Niki reacts on instinct, arms reaching out just as Sunoo grabs at him for balance. They crash to the floor in a heap, limbs tangled, a mess of static-charged blanket and flailing elbows. Niki cages Sunoo in his arms at the last second, shielding him from the worst of the fall.
The breath rushes out of him as they hit the floor—but he doesn’t loosen his hold. Sunoo’s tucked against his chest, wide-eyed and flushed, and Niki’s not entirely sure which one of them is trembling harder.
Before either of them can say another word, the front door clicks open. Jungwon steps inside, tugging off his sneakers with practiced ease, a hoodie pulled over his head, and a faint flush on his cheeks from outside.
He pauses in the hallway, eyes landing on the two of them tangled on the floor. His expression doesn’t shift much—just a blink, slow and unreadable, like he’s trying to decide if he actually walked into this.
Then, without a word, Jungwon turns and heads for his room, as if finding his members in a heap on the floor is just another Tuesday night.
Sunoo shoves at Niki’s chest with both hands, face flushed and full of panic. “Get off!”
Niki startles, arms loosening reflexively. Sunoo scrambles upright just enough to wriggle out of his hold. But before he can fully escape, Niki catches his wrist.
“What are you doing?” Sunoo blurts out, eyes wide, cheeks bright pink, voice high with a mix of shock and confusion.
Niki opens his mouth. Closes it. Then tries again. “I… uh…”
They’re still on the floor, they're too close that their breaths are mingling. Sunoo’s hair is mussed, while Niki’s stupid heart is pounding.
“There was something, I think? On your back,” Niki says finally, fumbling. “I’m not sure.”
Sunoo blinks. “Huh?” He instinctively reaches behind him.
Niki doesn’t move. Sunoo, on the other hand, scrambles to his feet in a panic, hands flying to his back. When his fingers brush over something—something small and foreign—his face twists in alarm.
Without a word, he spins on his heel and bolts to the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Niki stunned, still lying flat on the floor, staring at the ceiling like it might have answers.
The practice room hums with low chatter and the thump of bass leaking from the speakers. In front of the mirrored wall, Niki sits on the floor, one leg stretched out, the other bent in, reaching lazily for his foot in a half-hearted stretch. Beside him, Jake, Sunghoon, and Heeseung are sprawled out doing their own versions of warm-ups—more conversation than actual movement.
“You look like you’re constipated,” Jake says, squinting at Niki through the mirror.
“He wishes that were the problem,” Sunghoon adds with a smirk. “Sunoo’s ignoring him again.”
Heeseung lets out a low whistle. “Oof. Cold.”
Niki doesn't respond at first. His eyes are fixed on the other side of the room, where Sunoo is running through the new choreography with Jungwon and Jay. He’s layered up today—a vest over a fitted turtleneck, during practice, no less—and that doesn’t skip Niki’s notice. In this heat, wearing that is less about comfort and more like willingly trying to make yourself melt.
Sunoo moves with sharp precision, but there's a flicker of hesitation when he turns and catches Niki’s gaze through the mirror. Their eyes meet for a moment before Sunoo looks away quickly, pretending to refocus on Jungwon’s cue.
Niki groans, slumping forward over his knee. “What did I even do? I just touched him a little—barely—and now he won’t even look at me.”
Jake raises a brow. “You finally made a move?”
“It’s not like that!” Niki snaps, sitting up with a glare. “Seriously, hyung. Nothing even happened. He just started acting weird out of nowhere.”
Sunghoon crinkles his nose. “Well, between the two of you, it’s never really nothing, is it?”
Heeseung snorts. “Seriously. They fight about nothing and everything. Remember the bungeoppang?”
Jake and Sunghoon say it in unison, “Ohhh yeah.”
“Okay, first of all, the bungeoppang had a reason. I was starving, okay? And I didn’t know he claimed that one.”
Jake laughs. “You didn’t see the sticky note with his name on it?”
“It fell off!” Niki lies immediately. “And anyway, he had three more.”
“Ownership means nothing to hunger,” Heeseung mutters, stretching his arms overhead like he’s imparting ancient wisdom.
“Exactly.” Niki gestures at him, then points toward the far end of the room where Sunoo still hasn’t looked back. “But this? This isn’t about fish bread. This is something else.”
Sunghoon grins. “Yeah. It’s about your little touch.”
Jake doubles over. “Okay, definitely didn’t need that phrasing.”
Niki groans again, dragging his palms down his face. “I hate all of you.”
Heeseung pats him on the back, totally unsympathetic. “Love you too, buddy.”
He knows Sunoo isn’t just being moody—this is deliberate. Niki can always tell the difference. They've gone silent on each other before, sometimes for weeks, and by now, he’s learned the rhythm of it, of the specific weight of intentional distance. They both love to play this kind of game together—mostly to get under each other's skin.
It’s been a week. A week where he’d planned to do nothing but lounge around in gym shorts, and perhaps enjoy the rare break. Instead, he’s been stuck turning that moment on the couch over and over in his head. Sunoo’s reaction had been sharp, panicked, and since then, he’s avoided Niki completely. No eye contact. No casual comments, just absence. And Niki doesn’t know what unsettles him more; what happened that day, or the silence that followed.
He’s thought about cornering Sunoo when they’re alone—it sounds a little sinister, and he catches himself smiling at the idea before he can help it. But really, what else is he supposed to do? Every time he tries to approach, Sunoo ducks out with some flimsy excuse and disappears like clockwork.
He wants to go over there. To talk to Sunoo. To ask him—if he even could—about what the hell those raised bumps on his back were.
It hadn’t been anything obvious. Just… two small shapes beneath the fabric, barely noticeable. Like something resting just under the skin still forming. Niki hadn’t known what to make of it at the time, and he still doesn’t. It hadn’t felt like anything he could explain. Not muscles nor bones.
And then Sunoo had bolted, eyes wide like he’d been caught.
Now, Niki can’t stop thinking about it. Turning the moment over in his head until it loses shape. He doesn’t even know if he’s supposed to bring it up. Maybe it really was nothing. But if it was nothing, then why was he being punished like this?
“Before you start brooding over there,” Jake says, nudging Niki’s leg with his foot, “why don’t you come with me and Hoon tonight? There’s a new rooftop bar in Itaewon.”
“Can I come too?” Heeseung perks up from where he’s lazily stretching his arms overhead. “It’s been a while since I went out.”
Sunghoon snorts. “You sure, hyung? You’re not gonna miss any tournaments?”
Heeseung rolls his eyes, tossing a sweat towel at him. “The streets have missed me. Besides, you two have been terrorizing them long enough.”
Jake grins, leaning back on his palms. “Can’t argue with that.”
Niki stays quiet for a beat, still folded over his leg. His eyes drift to the far end of the room where Sunoo is stretching now, back turned as he eases into the splits. Jungwon is beside him, holding his hand for balance as Sunoo folds forward.
Niki's gaze lingers as Sunoo’s shirt rides up slightly, the hem of his thick vest lifting with it, bunched awkwardly around his waist where the fabric pulls against his raised arms. It exposes a sliver of pale skin just above the waistband of his pants. Something about it makes Niki stare longer than he should—like maybe, if he looks hard enough, he’ll catch another glimpse of whatever he felt that day.
He thinks for a moment, then exhales. Maybe he really did need to unwind.
He turns back to his hyungs and says, “I’m not paying for drinks.”
[]
He ended up paying for the drinks.
The moment they stepped into the building, everyone scattered into the shadows like cockroaches, disappearing into the dark corners of the rooftop. A little while later, they reemerged with more people—other idols from the industry—mingling freely, without a hint of worry about being recognized.
Niki drifts toward the edge of the rooftop, settling into a spot by the ledge. The city stretches out before him, glittering and alive—a maze of lights, motion, and distant noise. Seoul’s skyline is sharp and endless, full of towering glass and flickering signs, too vast to take in all at once. He tries to stay present, to enjoy the moment, smiling as people pass by and greet him. He plays the role without thinking. Hi, hello. Oh, great to see you.
A couple of girls glance his way, giggling behind their hands. He catches their eyes for half a second, then looks away. He’s not in the mood for that tonight.
“Look alive, my child,” Jake jokes, ruffling Ni-ki’s hair with a grin. He leans back against the railing, raising a sleek vape to his lips. A cloud of sweet, synthetic bubblegum drifts into the air, the scent curling around Ni-ki’s nose until it almost makes him dizzy.
He watches Jake exhale, the white smoke at odds with his hyung’s bright eyes and easygoing smile. The dissonance makes Ni-ki pause—Jake looks like the kind of guy who helps your grandma cross the street and shows up to dinner with flowers for your mom, not someone casually leaning into a habit that would make their managers seethe if it ever went public. Then again, he probably would still do those things. Two truths can exist at once. Isn’t that what makes them human?
And it’s not like Niki is entirely innocent. None of them are. The company keeps a vice-like grip on their image for the camera. They're presented as livestocks, pure and untainted—but behind closed doors, they’re free to indulge in whatever helps them survive, as long as it doesn’t interfere with work.
Except Sunoo.
However he presents himself to the public, it isn’t far from the truth. Sure, there’s a layer of performance—no one can be bright and beaming every hour of the day—but it’s not fake. Niki’s seen him smooth over details, toss out the occasional white lie to keep things tidy. But it's nothing serious. Just selective honesty to maintain the version of himself the world wants. Sunoo is sweet and charming—that much is real. But he’s also bratty and petty, and they argue like alley cats until Jay throws a pillow to make them shut up.
And unlike the rest of them, Sunoo never really dips into the mess the others lean on when things get too heavy. No late-night hookups, no smoking, no slipping into clubs through back doors. He keeps his head down, keeps his hands clean.
Or at least, Niki thinks he does.
Because when he tries to picture Sunoo tangled up in the kind of shit he gets into—someone else standing in a dark, piss-smelling bathroom stall, with Sunoo’s pretty face bowed under fluorescent lights—something about it makes his stomach twist. It doesn’t fit. It feels wrong. Like imagining a stain on something that’s never been touched.
Jake picks up on Niki’s sour mood almost immediately. He sidles up beside him, a cloud of sweet vape trailing from his lips. “Want to tell hyung how he can help?”
Niki doesn’t look at him. His eyes stay fixed on the skyline, jaw tense. “Do you perhaps have a time machine on hand?”
Jake huffs a laugh, clearly unfazed. “No,” he says, taking another puff, “but I do have important information on hand.”
That gets Niki’s attention. He glances over, suspicious. “Yeah? Like what?”
Jake exhales slowly, the white smoke curling around them before drifting off into the night. “No one’s at our dorm tonight.”
There’s a pause, “So?”
Jake grins. “Sunoo is there.”
Niki’s brain stutters, trying to piece it together—and then it hits. The empty dorm. Sunoo. Alone.
He whirls on Jake, eyes narrowing. “You set this up.”
Jake shrugs, the picture of innocence—except for the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m just saying... seems like a good time for a conversation.”
Niki’s already moving. He pushes off the railing and heads toward the exit with purpose, muttering curses under his breath.
He doesn’t get far.
Sunghoon and Heeseung materialize in front of the stairwell like they’ve been waiting, flanking the exit like a pair of smug bouncers. Sunghoon’s holding a drink, lazily swirling the contents, while Heeseung stands beside him, arms crossed, expression far too amused.
Niki skids to a stop. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Sunghoon extends a hand, palm up, expectant.
Heeseung tilts his head. “Payment, please. House rules.”
Niki groans loudly and digs into his pocket, slapping a wad of cash into Sunghoon’s palm. “There. Are you both happy now?”
Sunghoon pockets the money with a satisfied smirk and lifts his glass in a mock toast. “Break a leg.”
“Try not to cry,” Jake calls out from behind them, barely holding back his laughter.
“Shut up,” Niki grumbles, already pushing past them toward the stairs.
“Good luck!” Sunghoon calls after him, grinning widely.
Heeseung leans forward with a hand around his mouth. “Pull up your pants!”
Niki yanks them up with one hand, face burning. “They weren’t even that low!” he yells back.
Behind him, their laughter rises into the warm night, bright with mischief and unmistakable affection. The hyungs are clearly enjoying this way too much.
Niki nearly misses the door in his rush, breath catching as he skids to a stop outside Sunoo’s unit. His heart hammers against his ribs—fast, insistent, like it’s trying to outrun him.
The dash down the street had passed in a blur. By the time he reached the building, he was already stabbing at the elevator button with restless fingers, shifting from foot to foot as he waited. The ride up felt agonizingly slow with several floors ticking by with every flicker of the panel light. His fingers fumble with the keypad. He has to punch the code in twice before it finally accepts, the door unlocking with a soft click and a sigh of air.
He pushes it open slowly. Inside, the dorm is still.
Dark, mostly—only the soft, yellow glow of the kitchen light spills into the living room, casting long shadows across the floor. Shoes by the entrance. A hoodie slung carelessly over the back of a chair.
Niki steps in, eyes scanning the dim interior. “Sunoo hyung?” he tries, voice too low to carry.
Maybe he’s asleep? The thought sends a nervous flutter through his chest. Maybe he’s curled up under the covers, breathing softly, completely unaware that Niki’s about to corner him—no, talk to him. Just talk.
Niki moves quietly toward the hallway, the familiar creak of the floorboard beneath his foot grounding him for a second.
Then it comes—a scream.
A high-pitched scream that could shatter glass. There's only one person capable of that.
It rips through the stillness of the dorm like a blade, unmistakably coming from the bathroom at the end of the hall. Niki reacts on instinct. His body moves before his mind catches up, feet flying down the hallway, shadows stretching around him as he barrels past the darkened rooms.
A thin slice of light glows beneath the bathroom door, pale against the floorboards. It’s the only sign of life in an otherwise sleeping world.
He doesn’t think to knock, and doesn’t stop to breathe. He throws the door open.
Warmth crashes into him like a wall.
The bathroom is dense with steam, clinging to the air, clouding his vision in a soft, white haze. The mirror is completely fogged over, the glass slick with condensation, droplets sliding slowly down its edges.
The scent hits him next—faint and familiar. Powdery and sweet. Clean and distinctly Sunoo.
The light overhead glows too bright against the mist, scattering across the wet tile floor, where water looks like shallow puddles. Mist curls around his ankles as he steps inside, heat curling up his neck, heart racing with confusion and dread.
“Hyung?!” he calls, voice tight, eyes darting.
Sunoo stands in the center of the bathroom, frozen.
He’s soaked, with damp hair plastered to his temples, bare skin glistening under the light. His shoulders rise and fall with shallow breaths, arms halfway lifted in startled defense
But what stops Niki cold are the wings.
Two small, trembling wings press against Sunoo’s back, slick and glistening, pulsing faintly like they’re alive. Not decorative. Not some costume or illusion.
Niki knows he should look away—should offer the hoodie from the living room, say something, anything—but he’s rooted to the floor, stunned into stillness. Sunoo stares at him, wide-eyed, horror scrawled across every line of his face. His lips part like he might scream again, but nothing comes out.
Niki feels heat rush violently to his face, and lower, shamefully, confusingly. But it’s drowned under a heavier, colder rush of disbelief.
Not just because Sunoo is naked.
Because what he’s seeing is impossible.
“What... the hell?” Niki whispers.
He’s nursing a bump on his head—courtesy of a shampoo bottle Sunoo had hurled at him.
The chaos in the bathroom had escalated fast, especially with Sunoo screaming at him for barging in, then screaming at his reflection in the mirror, followed by a high-pitched wail so shrill that Niki was pretty sure he’d ruptured an eardrum. God, he could really use a pair of earplugs.
But none of that compares to the wings.
That’s what really matters.
Once the screaming subsided, Sunoo’s rage gave way to something more fragile. Niki had moved without thinking. He wrapped him in the biggest towel he could find, careful not to jostle the trembling wings on his back, and carried him out of the bathroom and to his bedroom.
Sunoo didn’t fight him. Didn’t protest. He just cried quietly into Niki’s shoulder, letting himself be held. Now, he’s perched on the edge of his vanity, wrapped in that same towel, skin still damp, eyes glassy and fixed on the mirror.
The wings shimmer faintly in the light, half-unfurled behind him—soft, fragile things that look too otherworldly to be real. They twitch, slow and uncertain, still finding their place on his back like they hadn’t just exploded into existence less than an hour ago.
“It’s been happening for a while,” he starts, eyes locked on the mirror but not really looking at it. “Since... last week. When you poked those bumps and said there was something on my back.”
“I thought they were just—clogged pores or something. Annoying, but manageable. But then they didn’t go away. They kept growing and itching. And throbbing.” He makes a face. “I started Googling symptoms, obviously.”
Niki opens his mouth but Sunoo only cuts him off.
“Yes, I know. It was a bad idea. I went down a terrible rabbit hole. I read about cancer, spinal deformities, and even bone tumors! There was this one forum thread about a guy who thought he was growing a tail—don’t ask —and I spiraled so hard.”
He pauses, brows knitting together.
“They got worse. I tried hiding them—baggy hoodies, vests, everything. But then one day I saw, like... pus. And when I checked in the mirror, I could see bone under the skin. Actual bone. I almost passed out.”
Niki winces. “Okay, yeah, that’s—gross.”
Sunoo nods. “Thank you. It was.”
He goes quiet for a second, fiddling with the edge of the towel.
“And then there were the feathers,” he adds. “At first, I thought maybe it was my pillow shedding, but it was always the same kind. Thin, white, and soft. On my bed, on the floor. On me. Like a weird trail I didn’t know I was leaving.”
He glances back at his wings, half-unfurled now behind him. “I even tried vacuuming my room twice in one night. It didn’t help.”
“Then today, I thought, fine, I’ll just shower and reset my brain. I like the water hot—it helps me relax. I cranked it up, like usual. But while I was rinsing my hair, I felt this pull. Like something inside my back was shifting.”
His voice drops, more puzzled than afraid. “And then they just—burst out. Like poof. No warning. No music cue. Just pain, feathers, and screaming.”
“You did scream,” Niki affirms.
“Of course I screamed!” Sunoo says, incredulous. “Wouldn’t you scream if wings tore their way out of your spine during a peaceful rinse and repeat?”
Niki raises a hand in surrender. Fair point.
Sunoo finally leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, towel still clutched tight. His voice is softer now, like the storm of panic has ebbed just slightly.
“I didn’t want to tell anyone. I didn’t even know what to say. I thought I was losing my mind. And now...” He gestures vaguely to his back. “Now this is just... real. And I don’t know what to do with that.”
He looks at Niki for the first time. “So yeah. That’s where I’m at. Surprise.”
Niki doesn’t know what to say. Not really.
He’s never been the go-to for comfort—not in regular situations, let alone ones where someone literally sprouts wings in the middle of their dorm bathroom. His brain’s still short-circuiting, partly trying to process the sight of Sunoo with feathers curling off his back like something out of a dream that took a wrong turn. While the other part is replaying the image of Sunoo standing nude in front of him.
And then there's the bigger problem—the real problem.
They’re idols. Every moment of their lives is under a microscope. Even the way they breathe sometimes feels dictated. How the hell are they supposed to keep something like this under wraps?
And right now, with Sunoo sitting across from him, wrapped in a towel and shaking from something even he doesn’t understand, Niki knows one thing for certain:
Whatever this is, it’s not going away quietly.
“We should tell the members,” Niki says. It’s the first thing that comes to mind, and frankly, the only thing that makes sense.
Sunoo stares at him like he’s lost his mind. “Are you serious?”
“Well… yeah? I mean, what else are we supposed to do?”
“What else—Niki, how exactly do you expect me to explain this to them?” Sunoo gestures wildly toward his back, toward the small, ivory wings curled in tight folds just beneath his shoulder blades. “I could barely handle showing it to you . And to be clear, that wasn’t a choice—you barged in on me.”
Niki shrugs his shoulders. “Okay, fair. But come on, hiding it is just going to make things worse. You’ll drive yourself insane trying to cover it up. At least if we tell the others, you won’t have to do that alone.”
Sunoo hesitates, eyes dropping to the floor. It’s a good point, and he knows it. But still, there’s a difference between Niki seeing it and everyone seeing it. The thought alone sends another wave of discomfort rippling through him.
Niki watches him wrestle with the decision, expression softening. He inches forward, gaze flicking toward the wings, and then slowly, his hand reaches out to touch.
Sunoo flinches.
“Ah—sorry,” Niki mutters quickly, drawing his hand back a little. “Can you… feel it?”
“Only the bony part,” Sunoo mumbles. “Not really the feathers. Also—why are you touching it?”
Niki scowls lightly, “You ignored me for a whole week over this, so let me be, okay? I just want to see if it’s really real.”
Sunoo rolls his eyes. “Are you blind? It’s fused onto my back.”
He stops mid-sentence.
Niki’s fingertips have found the lower edge of the wing, tracing gently along the curve where feather meets skin. The motion is slow and deliberate.
“Wow…” Niki murmurs. His voice has dropped, awed. “It’s so smooth. Like—not just the feathers, but here—” his finger glides just beneath the ridge where the wings emerge, “—it’s like skin and bone and silk all at once.”
The wings are small, not yet fully formed—more cherub than angel, delicate and pale like doves’ wings, with just the faintest hint of opal iridescence under the light.
Niki’s still talking when he notices the silence.
Sunoo’s gone completely still. His head is bowed slightly, lips parted.
He blinks, his hand still resting lightly against the lower edge of Sunoo’s wing. The feathers flutter beneath his fingertips, unbelievably soft, like air spun into something tangible.
He swallows. “...Does this feel good?”
Sunoo doesn’t speak. He just nods—once.
The silence that follows is anything but.
Heat climbs up the back of Niki’s neck, spreading across his cheeks in a full, unforgiving flush. And then—lower, again. A sudden, mortifying throb in his gut.
Oh no.
His hand jerks back like he’s touched a live wire. He nearly trips over his own feet in the process, stumbling back a half step, fist coming up to his mouth in an awkward cough.
“Right,” Niki blurts, voice an octave too high. He clears his throat again, louder this time, trying to scrape the heat out of it. “We should, um—yeah. Call the hyungs.”
“Holy shit,” Jake says, breathless. “You’re an angel.”
“I think you're confusing anatomical anomalies with divinity,” Jay replies, brows raised, but his voice is quieter than usual, like even he’s a little stunned.
“No, I agree,” Heeseung says, nodding slowly as he crouches nearby. "Sunoo always seemed like one though.”
“Am I the only one freaking out?” Sunghoon blurts from ten feet away, arms stiff at his sides. “This is freaking me out.”
They’re all gathered in the living room now—scattered like magnets drawn in too close. Sunoo is seated on the couch, still as anything, draped in one of Niki’s oversized shirts. The back has been hastily cut open, two ragged slits snipped clean through the fabric, allowing the pale curve of his wings to slip free.
They’re not large enough to be dramatic, not yet—just soft arches rising from just below his shoulder blades, delicate and downy at the base, with feathers that shimmer faintly in the light whenever he shifts. Like the underside of a seashell. Or snow before it melts.
Niki sits firmly beside him, one knee up, shoulder touching Sunoo’s.
Jake leans in a little. “Can I—”
Smack.
Niki’s hand darts out, slapping his away. “No.”
Jake cradles his fingers dramatically. “Ow. Okay. Noted.”
Heeseung inches forward. “I’m not trying to touch them—I just want to look up close—”
Smack.
“Still no.”
Sunoo makes a small, helpless noise. “You don’t have to hit them, Niki.”
“I do, actually,” Niki says without looking away from Heeseung, eyes narrowed. “They can look from over there.”
Jay crosses his arms, taking a slow breath like he’s trying to reset the room. “Okay, let’s all calm down. This is clearly... something. But we’re not going to get any answers by freaking out or—” he glares briefly at Jake and Heeseung—“trying to pet him like a zoo animal.”
Sunghoon, still rooted to the same spot near the hallway, gestures wildly. “Guys, he has wings. Literal wings. This is not normal. Like. What? What?"
“I’m right here,” Sunoo mutters, shrinking a little into the cushions.
“I know,” Sunghoon says immediately, “and you look great as always, this is just—objectively insane.”
“It’s not like I planned this!” Sunoo snaps, glaring at the floor.
Jake exhales through his nose, the humor finally draining from his expression. “Seriously though... are you okay?”
Sunoo doesn’t answer right away. “It’s…a bit painful, actually.”
The room falls into silence. The tension shifts, dread creeping in now that the shock is wearing off.
It hadn’t been easy to believe at first. None of them had the words—just stammered questions and exchanged glances, some of them laughing out of disbelief until Sunoo, trembling, turned his back and let them see for themselves.
Jake and Heeseung had accepted it almost instantly—Jake with wide-eyed awe, Heeseung with stunned disbelief. Jay, though calm, was already caught in his own mental loop, clearly running through every possible scientific explanation, trying to file the impossible into something he could define. Sunghoon, meanwhile, hadn’t stopped pacing since. His arms had gone stiff, his mouth hadn’t stopped moving, and at this point, he seemed to be panicking enough for all of them.
Niki reaches over and tugs the shirt gently at the shoulder, adjusting it so the wings aren’t bunched awkwardly. “It’s okay, hyung. You’ll be okay.”
“Damn right he will be,” Jake says, smiling again—this time, less teasing. “Still prettier than any angel I’ve ever seen.”
Heeseung chuckles. “Bet the Vatican would riot.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the room, calm but firm. He’d just gotten off the phone with their manager.
Since their manager lived with them in the same dorm, it had felt natural to consult him first—someone who might know what to do, or at least who to call. And amid everyone’s awe and panic, it was Jungwon who had taken the lead, pulling Sunoo aside to check in quietly before making the call—with Sunoo’s full consent, of course. No one else had been thinking that far ahead yet.
Jungwon reenters the room, slipping his phone into his pocket. The others turn to him at once—expectant, uneasy.
“He says Sunoo’s not allowed to leave the dorm,” Jungwon announces, voice steady. “At least for now. Until we figure out what this is, or if it... changes.”
Sunghoon groans, low and anxious. “So we’re grounded?”
“No,” Jungwon says, shaking his head. “Just Sunoo. He’s spinning a story for the higher-ups—said he’ll tell them your health’s acting up again,” he says, glancing briefly at Sunoo. “That you need time to rest. He said it’s believable, considering your medical history.”
Sunoo’s expression folds in on itself, somewhere between discomfort and relief. He nods once.
There’s a moment of silence, then Niki leans back slightly, eyebrows raised. “Huh.”
“What?” Jake asks.
“It’s just...” Niki shrugs, mouth twitching. “Kind of impressive that he believed us. No questions, no accusations. If it were anyone else, I think we’d all be getting tested for drugs right now.”
Jay huffs out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
“I think he’s seen enough of us to know when we’re bullshitting,” Heeseung adds. “And when we’re not.”
“Yeah,” Niki says, smirking faintly. “We get into a lot of shit, but at least we’re honest about it.”
There’s a collective nod, quiet and strangely proud. For better or worse, their manager knew them—had seen the chaos, the mess, the scrapes they didn’t always report right away—and maybe that’s why he believed them now. Because this was insane, sure, but it wasn’t a lie.
Jungwon exhales, shoulders dropping. “For now, we just keep this quiet. No pictures, no windows, no dumb ideas.”
Jake slowly reaches out again, fingertips hovering just above the delicate curve of Sunoo’s wing. He doesn’t even get close.
Niki slaps his hand away without so much as glancing at him. “Seriously?” he says, deadpan.
Jake recoils with a wounded noise, shaking out his hand. “You’ve got insane reflexes,” he mutters.
“And you’ve got a death wish,” Niki replies.
Once upon a time in Seoul, there lived a boy who loved to sing. One morning, he woke to wings—white as pearl, soft as spring. They shimmered like skies at the edge of light, glowing faintly in the hush of night. But beauty, he learned, can carry a price—For every day of grace, a night of ice. Pain like fire beneath his skin, as his back split wide for those beautiful wings.
Well, isn’t that a fucked-up fairy tale? Niki thinks as he watches Sunoo curled up on his bed, muffling his cries into the pillow. It’s the first week since the reveal.
The members have been taking turns helping however they can—rotating shifts to stay with Sunoo, managing meals, and making sure the dorm stays quiet when the pain gets bad. Their schedules had to shift, too. With Sunoo officially on hiatus, the rest of the group had to reorganize planned appearances, training blocks, and interviews. Management seemed appeased for now, likely because promotions had just wrapped before everything happened. There wasn't much on the line, at least not immediately.
The official story stayed intact: Sunoo’s health had flared up again. It wasn’t entirely a lie—not with the way his body writhed at night, with the way he bit down on pain just to breathe normally. He hated using that excuse with his family, but it was the only option that wouldn’t send them into a panic. So he reassured them with soft words and practiced smiles, promised them he just needed rest. The fans, too, had rallied behind him—well wishes pouring in by the hour, flooding the official accounts with messages of love and concern.
But in hindsight, Sunoo wasn’t doing well.
It was mostly just the wings—the raw, tearing growth of them. His body trying to keep up with something it had never been built for. Niki remembers his own growth spurt, a year after debut—how his legs ached constantly, how his back would seize up some nights. That had been rough.
This? This was something else entirely.
Bones and blood were restructuring inside Sunoo’s body. Every night, the wings grew faster—at least an inch a day. That kind of speed wasn’t natural. It sort of explained the pain. Niki couldn’t even begin to imagine what that must feel like. What kind of agony lived under Sunoo’s skin now.
He slips into the room quietly, a tray in hand—congee, some side dishes, and two pain relievers balanced beside a half-filled glass of water.
Sunoo doesn’t move when the door opens. He’s lying on his side, curled up near the edge of the bed, face flushed and damp with sweat. The back of his shirt is already sticking to him again.
“Sunoo hyung,” Niki says gently, setting the tray down on the bedside table. “I brought food. And meds.”
A small, broken sound leaves Sunoo’s throat. “Don’t think I can eat.”
“You don’t have to finish it,” Niki says, sitting on the bed now. “But take the meds at least. It’ll help, even just a little.”
There’s a pause. Then, slowly, Sunoo rolls halfway over, wincing as his wings drag behind him. His fingers tremble when Niki presses the pills into his hand and lifts the water glass to his lips. He drinks in small sips, like even swallowing hurts.
When he’s done, Sunoo leans forward without warning—just tilts until his forehead against Niki’s shoulder, then slides down until his cheek is pressed to the younger boy’s bicep. He stays there, trembling, a soft whimper escaping him.
Niki exhales slowly, not moving an inch.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs, voice steady. “You’re doing so good, hyung. Just hang on a little longer.”
Sunoo nods against his arm, barely perceptible. But he doesn’t let go.
For a while, it’s quiet—just the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft, unsteady rhythm of Sunoo’s breathing.
Then Niki says, softly, “Where does it hurt the most?”
Sunoo hesitates before answering. “Around the base,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “Where they’re… growing out. It’s tender. It aches. Like my skin’s being stretched too tight from the inside.”
“That sounds awful.”
Sunoo lets out a breath that’s halfway to a sob. “It is.”
Niki shifts slightly, his brain pulling pieces together before he can stop himself. He remembers the moment from last time—the way Sunoo had stilled under his touch. And that one question, barely whispered: Does it feel good?
The answer had been a nod. Just one.
Niki swallows, tentative. “Hyung… earlier, when I touched them—your wings—you said it felt good, right?”
Sunoo stiffens slightly. “I didn’t say that.”
“You nodded.”
“That’s not the same as saying it.”
“But you didn’t stop me.”
Niki moves his arm to give Sunoo space, but doesn’t pull away entirely. “What if… I try that again? Just gently. I don’t know, maybe it’ll help ease the pain?”
Sunoo doesn’t answer right away. His fingers curl slightly into Niki’s shirt.
“I don’t know if it’ll help,” he finally says. “But right now, everything hurts so much that I don’t think I’d care if you set me on fire.”
Niki huffs a soft, nervous laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes?”
A weak noise of reluctant agreement leaves Sunoo’s throat. He doesn’t lift his head.
So Niki shifts behind him, just enough to see the wings—still small, still half-folded and trembling. His fingers hover near the base where soft, pale feathers give way to flushed, swollen skin.
“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he says, voice low.
Niki’s fingers hover just above Sunoo’s back, the space between them humming with hesitation. Then, slowly, he lets his touch land—two fingers, featherlight, brushing the base of the wings. He draws them upward, tracing along the ridges where soft skin meets the strange, budding limbs. Then down again. Up. Down. His motions are slow, deliberate.
Sunoo hisses through his teeth.
Niki’s hand stops instantly. “Too much?”
Sunoo shakes his head, his voice low and frayed. “No. It’s okay. Keep going.”
Niki nods once and resumes, still careful, but firmer now, more confident. His fingers skim the tender stretch of skin where bone presses close to the surface, the smallest tremor running beneath his touch. But the fabric clinging to Sunoo’s back—damp and bunched from sweat—makes the contact too uneven. It drags. Dulls everything.
Frustrated, Niki reaches for the hem of the shirt. It’s already half-torn from earlier, the seams split open. With one tug, he rips the fabric clean down the middle.
The sound makes Sunoo flinch. “What—Niki!”
“It’s just your shirt,” Niki says, voice tight with control. “It’s in the way.”
Sunoo opens his mouth to protest, but Niki’s hand returns before he can speak, and whatever he was about to say disappears in a breath.
Niki presses his fingers to bare skin now, smoothing over the exposed curve of Sunoo’s back. It’s hot to the touch. Damp. His skin is flushed a soft pink, goosebumps rising under his touch. And yet Sunoo leans into it, shoulders drooping, head bowed.
A slow, shaky sigh escapes him.
Niki swallows, throat suddenly tight.
This… doesn’t feel like just helping anymore.
Every nerve in his hand is lit up with awareness of Sunoo’s skin, soft and warm; of the fine sheen of sweat clinging to the curve of his spine; of the subtle twitch of muscles beneath his palm. He’s never been this close before. Not like this. Not with Sunoo breathing like that, trembling under him, half-undressed and vulnerable and quiet.
And yet all Niki can do is keep touching him—up and down, tracing the new shape of him.
His gaze drifts to the wings again, small and delicate, curled in on themselves. He grazes the base again, more slowly this time, and watches as Sunoo shivers.
“Does it still hurt?” Niki asks, voice hoarse.
Sunoo doesn’t answer at first. Then, almost whispering, “A little. But… not when you do that.”
That’s when Niki feels the heat flood his face again. Rising up his neck, curling in his chest, and pooling low in his stomach. But this time, he doesn’t pull away his hand. Instead, his voice drops.
“Why don’t you lie down, hyung?” he says. “Let me help you feel better.”
Maybe he’s just too exhausted, but Sunoo doesn’t even protest. With a soft breath, he shifts onto his stomach, face turned to the side, arms limp at his sides. Niki climbs over him carefully, straddling his hips, hands hovering above the flushed expanse of his back.
A quiet thrill runs through him. He hates it.
Because Sunoo’s suffering—his body trembling, breath ragged, skin hot with pain—and here is Niki, heart pounding for all the wrong reasons. The sick excitement curling in his gut feels almost perverse. He’s trying not to shake from how giddy he feels at the thought of touching his hyung like this.
“Okay…” Niki starts, voice low, as he lays his palm gently across Sunoo’s back. His touch is light, careful—mindful of the bruised skin and the feathers still damp from sweat. The wings twitch beneath his fingers, tender and curled close to Sunoo’s frame.
He starts to move his hand in slow, steady circles, tracing around the edges where soft skin gives way to muscle, where the strain seems to knot the deepest. His thumbs press down, featherlight, just enough to coax tension out.
Sunoo exhales, a trembling breath through his nose.
“Yeah… just like that,” Niki murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. His hands find a rhythm—slow, methodical, tracing every curve of Sunoo’s back. He adjusts his pressure when Sunoo winces, returns to the safer spots when he sighs. “You’re doing good, hyung.”
It’s impossible not to notice everything—Sunoo’s warmth beneath him, the quiet hitch in his breath when Niki’s thumbs graze the base of his wings, the way his skin feels under his palms.
Niki swallows hard.
His hands move lower, then up again. Sunoo shifts, just barely, a soft sound escaping him—almost a hum.
“Don’t worry,” Niki says, quieter now. “I’ll make the pain go away.”
The wings twitch once, then settle.
Niki keeps going, steady, focused. But every second that passes makes him more aware of the situation—how close they are, and how he could feel the growing hardness in his pants.
Sunoo’s soft, even breaths are the first sign that he’s finally fallen asleep—leaving Niki frozen in place, stunned. The massage must have helped more than he expected; Sunoo never falls asleep this easily because of the pain. Normally, the discomfort keeps him up, especially at night.
Well, Niki has to deal with his own discomfort now, hissing at the tightness that’s threatening to burst soon.
He carefully climbs off Sunoo and pulls the blanket up to tuck him in. Then, without wasting a second, Niki hurries to the bathroom, locking the door with a slam.
He slipped his boxers down, wrapped his palm around his shaft, and gave one, slow, experimental stroke, and then instinct took over. Fuck, it was maddening how he had tried so hard not to come right then and there at the image of Sunoo under him, the exposed pale skin etched itself into his sight, hot and vivid.
Niki made a sound like a whimper, then groaned, long and deep, imagining what else he could do to make Sunoo feel good. To have his hyung make those soft, breathy sounds every time Niki presses down just right. Of course he's had thoughts of Sunoo this way. It was something he'd reluctantly acknowledged as soon as he noticed erections forming every time he slept next to Sunoo. Fuck that he's a guy, or that he's one of his band members. Niki's throbbing dick could care less about that in moments like this.
His orgasm hit him hard and fast, his release pulsing over his fingers, spurting up towards his chest.
When clarity finally hits, Niki is slumped against the door, back pressed to the wood, clutching his soiled shirt like it might hold him together. Guilt knots in his stomach. Confusion scrapes at the edges of his thoughts. He doesn't know what he just crossed—but one thing is certain:
He wants to touch Sunoo again.
It’s strange what the human mind can conjure when desperation takes hold. Niki finds himself growing bolder, crafting excuses—unbelievable, yet painfully convincing—just for the chance to feed his newfound desire.
At this point, Niki has all but claimed the role of Sunoo’s full-time caretaker. He’s the one bringing meals, staying behind at the dorm, checking in more often than anyone else. The other members have noticed, and they don’t bother hiding their confusion anymore.
“You sure you want to keep doing this?” Jungwon asks, brows raised.
Niki just rolls his eyes. “Look at him,” he says, nodding toward the living room. “He’s doing better, isn’t he?”
And he is. The pain has lessened—dramatically, even. Their near-daily massage sessions have made a real difference. Sunoo no longer spends his days curled up in bed, gritting his teeth through the worst of it. Now, he moves around, he speaks more, and he even laughs sometimes.
Jungwon just gives a reluctant, “Okay… if you say so.”
Niki’s glad he doesn’t push further. He’s not ready for anyone to question the quiet control he’s carved out of this situation.
Right now, Sunoo is perched on the couch, watching a movie with his legs tucked beneath him. Niki sits on the floor at his feet, close enough to feel the occasional brush of Sunoo’s wings—larger now, nearly spanning the width of his back, the feathers soft and downy. Every time Sunoo shifts, they tickle the edge of Niki’s ears.
“Don’t you ever get ticklish?” Niki asks, glancing up from where he sits at Sunoo’s feet.
Sunoo blinks, tearing his gaze from the screen. “From the feathers?”
“Yeah.”
Sunoo shrugs, shifting slightly. The wings rustle behind him, one loose feather brushing lightly against Niki’s cheek again. “Sometimes, I guess. Especially when the tip of my wings brushes against my back.”
“Hm.” Niki hums, turning the thought over in his head, and of feathers brushing against skin. His eyes flick briefly to the delicate slope of Sunoo’s wing, then back to the screen. “I read somewhere that tickling activates the same nerve endings as pleasure. Or, like, laughter. Which technically reduces stress and helps with pain.”
Sunoo gives him a side-eye. “Are you seriously trying to cite science right now?”
“I’m experimenting ” Niki replies, mock-offended. Then, more earnestly, “I mean, look—you said they’re sensitive, right? So maybe if the massage helped because of nerve stimulation or whatever, maybe tickling would… do something similar? Shift the sensation?”
Sunoo stares at him. “You want to tickle me.”
“No,” Niki says quickly. “I want to use the properties of involuntary nervous response to create a therapeutic effect.” He grins. “Big difference.”
Sunoo snorts. “Stop mimicking Jay hyung.”
“I’m just offering an alternative solution,” Niki shrugs. “You’re already in pain, right? This doesn’t require meds or stretching or even getting up. You just sit there. I do all the work.”
Sunoo narrows his eyes, but there's a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. “This is stupid.”
“And yet you haven’t said no.”
That earns him a sigh and a grudging, “Fine. But if I scream, you die.”
“Fair,” Niki says, already shifting closer, eyes dark. His fingers hover just beneath the curve of Sunoo’s wing. “Let’s see what happens.”
Niki plucks a fallen feather from the floor—white and downy, light as air between his fingers. It’s absurd how soft it is, almost delicate.
He can’t pretend he’s not enjoying this—the way Sunoo looks right now: tense, shoulders drawn tight, eyes flicking between the feather and Niki’s face, bracing for whatever comes next. There’s anticipation in every inch of him, like he’s holding his breath.
Niki doesn’t know exactly what expression he’s wearing, but the way Sunoo’s features shift, nervous and uncertain, tells him enough. He’s probably smiling like a maniac.
He begins lightly, feather grazing near the base. Just slow, subtle movements that flutter more than poke. Sunoo twitches almost immediately.
“That’s—uhm, weird,” he mutters, pulling his shoulders up. But he doesn’t tell Niki to stop.
Encouraged, Niki continues, pushing Sunoo down onto the couch with a gentle touch. Sunoo gives in without resistance, soft and yielding in his arms. A part of Niki shivers—he can’t help but compare. Most of the girls he’s been with had a bit of defiance in them, a bratty edge. That could be fun, sure. But it gets tiring after a while. He's always disliked it when people's dont listen to him after all.
But with Sunoo, it’s different. He likes how his hyung eventually complies to him no matter what Niki puts him through. Sure, it’s a completely different situation—but Niki can dream. And more than that, he can make Sunoo react like this: squirming beneath him as he drags the feather upward in slow, lazy strokes, adjusting the speed just enough to pull a response.
“See? Something’s happening.”
“It’s okay, I can take it,” Sunoo tries to smile, though there’s a breathy noise tangled in the back of his throat, caught between a laugh and a gasp.
Niki’s eyes glint with mischief as he watches Sunoo writhe, the feather tracing up the curve of his waist again. This time, Sunoo lets out a stifled squeak, kicking lightly at the couch cushions.
"Wait—stop, that tickles now!" he giggles, curling in on himself. His voice is high and breathless, the sound bubbling out of him like it’s been waiting to escape.
But Niki doesn’t stop. He laughs too—really laughs—as he climbs over Sunoo to keep him in place, straddling his thighs and gently pinning his wrists above his head. “You said you could take it,” he teases, voice low and teasing as he resumes the feather’s path along Sunoo’s side, slow and merciless.
Sunoo thrashes lightly under him, laughter now coming in waves. “Niki!—ah, please—” he gasps between giggles, tears starting to prick at the corners of his eyes. “I c-can’t—!”
Niki’s own laugh falters into something heavier. His smile stays, but his breath hitches; the sound of Sunoo’s laughter, the squirming beneath him, the way their bodies press together—it’s all starting to blur into another territory. His fingers tremble slightly as he tosses the feather aside and lets his hands slide lower, still teasing. But his pulse is loud in his ears now, and the warmth pooling in his gut is impossible to ignore.
He swallows hard, trying to keep his voice light. “You’re really sensitive, huh?”
Sunoo tries to nod, still breathless and pink in the face. His laughter’s softened to hiccups now, chest rising and falling fast beneath Niki’s.
And Niki knows—he should stop. Should pull away, breathe, cool off. But instead, he stays right there, eyes fixed on Sunoo.
Because right now, the feeling of want is heavy and far too easy to sink into.
Sunoo’s cheeks are flushed, lips parted as he tries to catch his breath. A sheen of sweat clings to his skin, and the giggles have faded into soft, shaky exhales. His wrists are still pinned, though Niki isn’t holding him tightly anymore.
“So sensitive,” Niki repeats, quieter now. His voice dips lower, smoky around the edges.
Sunoo blinks up at him, dazed, and then the air shifts between them. Niki feels it—the weight of it settling over his shoulders, crawling down his spine.
He realizes he’s leaning in.
His hands slide down from Sunoo’s wrists to his forearms, fingers tracing the outline of bone, of warmth. He feels the tremor under Sunoo’s skin, the way his breath stutters again, and not with laughter this time.
Niki’s hips are still pressed against Sunoo’s thighs. The arousal that had sparked during the tickling...well, he can’t laugh it off anymore. It’s thick in his throat, curling low in his stomach. His body reacts before his mind catches up, leaning closer, nose brushing along Sunoo’s own, breath warm against flushed skin.
“You’re really warm, hyung,” he murmurs.
Sunoo’s eyes flutter shut, lashes trembling.
And then, just barely audible, “So are you.”
It should’ve been the perfect moment for Niki to let go of all pretense and give in—to reach for what he wants without hesitation. But instead, to his own surprise, he pulls back. Not all the way, but just enough to slide his hands to Sunoo’s sides and start tickling again.
Sunoo shrieks with laughter, twisting beneath him, his wings pinned awkwardly beneath his back as Niki laughs too—loud and breathless, almost desperate.
The movie plays on, forgotten. Their laughter fills the room, but it can’t quite smother the tension that lingers—thick and unresolved, hanging between them like a held breath.
Some things have changed between them—and yet, in many ways, nothing has.
They still bicker, their arguments short-lived and mostly trivial, often dissolving into snide remarks and eye rolls. Sunoo’s wings, now longer, reaching past his thighs, have started to react more visibly with his emotions. When he’s irritated, they flare out instinctively, sometimes smacking into Jake or knocking over a lamp. He’s learning to control them, one awkward mishap at a time.
But a haze has settled between him and Niki. Whatever closeness they had before has only intensified. Niki spends nearly all his free time with him. After schedules, he heads straight for the downstairs unit where Sunoo’s room is. The couch in the living room has become his second bed. His own room, unused and gathering dust, is little more than a storage space at this point.
The others have noticed—how could they not?—but no one says a word. They're too busy excusing themselves from the possibility of one day walking in on their youngest doing unholy things to one of their members. No one comments when Sunoo casually settles into Niki’s lap during conversations, or when Niki starts kneading the arch of Sunoo’s foot like it’s second nature. There’s a quiet understanding now, unspoken but ever-present. Wherever Sunoo is, Niki won’t be far behind.
It's like their early debut days once again, but also not. Because Niki is nineteen now, with experience sharpened by hedonistic wants. And his attachment to Sunoo runs far beyond what anyone would call normal between members.
And whether it’s fortunate or not, the touches have evolved too. Niki’s grown shameless, like the boldness might drown out the quiet war inside his head. What began as simple massages turned into tickling, and then into something else entirely. A slow, tentative exploration under the guise of comfort, of pleasure, of whatever they dared call it.
Just recently, Niki suggested a massager—one of those vibrating wands. Sunoo agreed without much thought, trusting him without question. Niki had only smiled, the corner of his mouth curling with something unreadable.
“Don’t worry, hyung,” he said. “You’ll definitely like it.”
And, unsurprisingly, he did.
By the end of a few slow, deliberate rounds—Niki pressing the massager to every tender point he could find—Sunoo was left heady and breathless, trembling against him. The vibrations pulsed through his skin in deep, rolling waves, sending shivers up his spine and loosening every last knot of tension in his muscles. Each contact left a warm, buzzing echo in its wake, like a hum beneath the surface of his body, making him melt further with every pass.
Now, Sunoo lies boneless in Niki’s lap, chest rising and falling with shaky exhales. Niki wraps his arms around him, grounding him with gentle strokes along his back, his palms smoothing over the warm skin where wing meets shoulder. He massages the sensitive juncture with practiced ease, murmuring soft praises into the shell of Sunoo’s ear, letting him come down slowly.
“Feel good?”
“Mhmm…” is the only response he gets.
Niki nips at Sunoo’s ear and presses a kiss on his temple.
But of course, there’s the unshakeable truth. The wings haven’t stopped growing. It’s been nearly three weeks now, and while the pain has started to subside, the uncertainty has only deepened.
The tension is immediate the moment Niki steps into the room. The conversation hushes, and all eyes shift toward him—not accusatory, but expectant. Jay is leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Jungwon straightens up. Heeseung pats the empty spot on the couch.
“Sit for a second,” Jungwon says. Calm, but firm.
Niki does, though he already knows where this is going. He doesn’t bother asking.
Jay gets straight to the point. “It’s been almost three weeks, Niki.”
“The wings haven’t stopped growing,” Jungwon adds. “They’re still changing, and no one knows what the limit is—if there even is one.”
Heeseung’s voice is softer. “We’ve held off from interfering. We wanted to give you space. Give him space. But we can’t ignore this anymore.”
Jake’s gaze is steady but warm. “We’re worried. Sunoo might be in less pain now, but we don’t know what’s happening to him. Or what it means in the long run.”
“And we’re worried about you, too,” Sunghoon says. “You’ve been shouldering this alone.”
Niki says nothing. His jaw is tight. He nods once, a quick jerk of acknowledgment.
Jay folds his hands. “You know this isn’t sustainable. You two have built something that works for now, but it’s reactive—not a real solution.”
“Even if it feels manageable,” Jungwon says, “it’s not. We have to get ahead of this.”
Heeseung meets Niki’s eyes. “It might mean reaching out beyond us. Hell, maybe even the agency.”
He hears everything they’re saying. Knows they’re right. He nods again. Nods when Jungwon says they’re running out of time. Nods when Jay says this could get worse, fast. Nods when Jake tells him it’s okay to ask for help.
But even as the weight of their words sinks in, something inside him twists—tight and hot with frustration.
Because yes—he understands what’s at stake. He knows this isn’t normal. He knows they can’t go on like this indefinitely.
But the closeness he’s built with Sunoo—the quiet routines, the unspoken trust, the way their bodies seem to understand each other before words are even exchanged—it’s become the most consistent thing in his life. The way Sunoo turns to him first for comfort, for pleasure, for everything—it’s intoxicating.
If they fix this, if they find a cure, if the wings stop growing and Sunoo no longer needs him the same way...
Then what?
The idea of losing that—of losing him —sends a bitter, restless ache curling in his chest.
Still, he just says, “Okay.”
[]
There are three sharp knocks on his bedroom door—urgent, uneven.
“Niki? Are you there?” a soft voice, muffled but unmistakably trembling.
Niki’s heart stutters. He’s already moving before he even processes it, crossing the room in a few fast strides. He pulls the door open—
—and Sunoo’s standing there, furious and wrecked.
His face is flushed red, cheeks streaked with fresh tears. His lower lip trembles, eyes glassy with emotion. His wings are folded tightly around his body like a cocoon, feathers ruffled and drawn inward in that way they only do when he’s upset.
“Oh, hyung…” Niki barely breathes it, but Sunoo’s already lunging forward.
He crashes into Niki’s chest—arms wrapping around him, face burying into his shoulder. The wings lag behind, dragging on the floor as they spill into the room like heavy fabric. Niki staggers a step back from the impact but catches him easily, arms instinctively locking around Sunoo’s waist.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, feeling Sunoo shudder against him. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
Sunoo doesn’t answer—he just sobs. His hands clutch at Niki’s shirt, knuckles white, and Niki understands instinctively that underneath the upset is anger.
But why?
Niki holds him tighter and gently guides them backward, toward the middle of the room—toward the black caterpillar sofa that swallows the space like a soft, open mouth.
They sink into it together, Sunoo still pressed to him. Niki pulls him onto his lap, cradling him as if he were something fragile. The wings slowly unfold, spilling out around them in restless, trembling arcs. Feathers brush Niki’s arms and legs, surrounding them in a kind of private world.
Niki keeps one hand at the small of Sunoo’s back, the other stroking slow circles between his shoulder blades.
“I’m here,” he says again, voice low and certain. “Tell me what happened.”
For a moment, Sunoo just shakes his head, breath hitching in quiet, uneven sobs. Then his voice breaks through, hoarse and wet.
“I was sleeping,” he whispers. “In the dorm.”
Niki stays quiet, listening.
“I woke up because I heard voices. At first, I thought it was just background noise, but then I recognized them—Jungwon, Heeseung, and Jay.” He pulls back slightly, eyes red and glassy. “They were talking about me.”
“About what to do with me,” Sunoo says, voice trembling now with more than just grief. “Like I’m a problem they need to fix.”
Niki’s grip tightens.
“They mentioned surgery. Said maybe my wings need to be removed. Heeseung brought up getting a specialist. Then Jay said it might be time to involve the agency—that they can’t keep up the hiatus excuse much longer.”
Niki’s jaw sets, but he stays silent as Sunoo keeps going, words tumbling out, brittle and fast.
“Jungwon said they were just considering possibilities. Like it’s not my body. Like I wouldn’t hear them deciding things for me without even asking.”
His fists curl in Niki’s lap. “Why didn’t they talk to me ? Why didn’t they ask what I wanted?”
There’s no good answer. Niki just pulls him closer, rests his chin on Sunoo’s head.
“I confronted them,” Sunoo says thickly. “Told them they were acting like I wasn’t even real. And Jay—he said they’re trying to protect me. That I’m emotional because I’m in pain. That I might not be thinking straight.”
Niki exhales through his nose, slow and sharp, holding his temper by a thread.
“I told them,” Sunoo chokes, “I’m not something to be debated on.”
He starts crying again.
Niki presses a kiss to his hair.
“You’re not,” he murmurs. “You’re you. And they should’ve known better.”
Sunoo nods against him, still trembling, but slowly starting to settle. His wings pull in close—no longer lashing, just holding him the way Niki does.
“Who cares if I’m in pain? It’s my pain,” Sunoo bites out. “I get to decide how I deal with it.”
Niki nods, slow as syrup, hands gliding in lazy, possessive circles down Sunoo’s back. “Yeah,” he says, voice low. “You do.”
His touch never wavers, never rushes. Just the same deliberate pressure, the same steady rhythm, like he’s grounding Sunoo—or sedating him. “You get to want something that feels good too,” he adds, almost absently, like it's a truth too obvious to question.
Niki stays there, warm and steady, like he’s offering something righteous. Like relief is a choice Sunoo made all on his own, not something Niki coaxed out of him. Sure, he’s livid at the members, at what they dared to suggest. But that anger is eclipsed by hunger.
A hunger that lives inside Niki—carved from countless encounters, a confidence that could take whatever it wanted. But with Sunoo, he holds it back. Softening the desire, though the intensity never lessens.
He turns it into something Sunoo will need.
And in the quiet certainty that follows, Niki tells himself he’s done well—that he’s made Sunoo believe that the only thing that doesn’t hurt is him.
Niki shifts Sunoo gently, guiding him into his lap—effectively straddling him. His hands drift from the curve of Sunoo’s back down to his thighs, palms gliding in slow, deliberate strokes. When Sunoo’s breath hitches, Niki knows he’s feeling it.
“It’s alright, Sunoo hyung,” he says softly, gaze lifted to the dazed flush blooming across Sunoo’s face.
“I’ll help you forget,” he adds, watching closely as Sunoo shivers at the implication.
And there are no more words left between them the moment Niki surges forward, capturing Sunoo’s lips—soft at first, then with a growing hunger. Sunoo lets out a faint sound of protest, but it’s swallowed by Niki’s gentle “shhh, it’s okay,” before he kisses him again, deeper this time, licking into him like he can soothe everything away.
He grounds him with slow strokes along his arms, pulling him in closer as he grinds up against him—slow and deliberate, in the way he knows they always liked.
The difference is, Niki used to do these things to feel something—to take the edge off, to tame whatever restless thing clawed inside him. But now, he’s doing it for Sunoo. To make him feel so good, he forgets whatever the fuck the hyungs were scheming.
“N-Niki,” Sunoo whines, flushed and trembling. His wings twitch erratically as he shifts on Niki’s lap—half trying to pull away, half chasing the sensation building inside him. Niki catches on quickly. He lifts a hand to the base of Sunoo’s wings and strokes gently. The response is immediate: a full-body shiver tears through Sunoo, his mouth falling open on a sigh—one that Niki steals with his own.
He doesn’t stop, but keeps stroking the base of Sunoo’s wings with a careful, practiced rhythm, slow but insistent, coaxing out every shiver and twitch.
Niki watches it all—how Sunoo’s body arches into him, how his fingers curl against Niki’s shoulders like he’s holding on for dear life.
He kisses him through it, soft presses to his lips, then his cheeks, the curve of his neck, the shell of his ear. His voice a steady murmur against skin.
“You’re doing so good,” he breathes, between kisses. “So perfect like this. Just let me take care of you."
“What is this—” Sunoo gasps, confused, eyes wide and glassy. “Why am I—”
“You like this, hyung,” Niki says softly, but it's more or less a damning statement. “Doesn’t it feel good?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. In one smooth motion, he flips them over, pressing Sunoo down against the couch, wings pinned tightly to his back. Niki’s hand trails lower—dangerously close now, teasing the edge of Sunoo’s shirt. It’s only now that he really notices what Sunoo’s wearing—just a pair of skin-tight black boxers and his—Niki’s—oversized t-shirt, hanging loose on him.
Niki’s eyes darken instantly, something low and possessive stirring in his chest.
He’s not a patient man—who is he kidding? His fingers hook into the edge of Sunoo’s boxers and tug them down in one smooth pull. Sunoo instinctively tries to close his legs, but Niki places a firm hand on his knee and gently pushes them apart.
"W-wait!"
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmurs, soothing, like a promise meant only for him.
"Niki, p-please—"
Any of Sunoo’s weak complaints evaporate into nothing as Niki hitches his knees up, pulls each leg on either side of his heaving chest. Honestly, this part is the one that gets him the most compliments.
Sunoo is bare—cheeks flushed, eyes unfocused—laid out perfectly for him, trembling and exposed like he was made to be seen this way. Only by him, though. No one else.
“I’ve been wanting to do this to you,” Niki growls shortly before leaning forward to suck wetly on the pink flesh, relentlessly tickling the inside of his rim until Sunoo is moaning into the back of his hand. Niki licks his way easily into the unresisting, quivering channel. Pushing his tongue in as far as he can, his mouth wide.
Sunoo writhes beneath him, trying to twist out of his grasp, but Niki’s always been the stronger one between them. He pins him down with ease—one hand covering Sunoo’s mouth, the other lifting his hips—and continues the slow, agonizing pleasure he’s been drawing out.
He catches sight of Sunoo’s cock—pretty and flushed—and with a wicked sort of intent, wraps a hand around it. His thumb teases the sensitive tip, slow and precise, even as his mouth stays busy at Sunoo’s rim, tongue relentless and hungry.
Sunoo’s breath stutters, his hips moving helplessly against Niki’s in that desperate, instinctive rhythm that only comes when someone is teetering on the edge.
His release hits with a muffled cry, swallowed behind Niki’s soft murmurs of “Fuck, you look so pretty.”
It spills over Niki’s hand, warm and sticky, and the younger doesn’t waste a second—licking it off slowly while holding Sunoo’s gaze.
He smiles down at Sunoo now—body trembling, wings unfurled in disarray, eyes dazed and glassy from the overwhelming pleasure—and thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful.
“Don’t worry, hyung,” Niki whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’ll always be here for you.”
[]
Niki’s greed is sickening, to say the least—and it seeps into everything. Practice. Interviews. A rare day out with his hyungs.
Normally, he’d be back at the dorm, wrapped around Sunoo, teaching him how to feel good.
The last time, it was Niki’s fingers—and he couldn’t stop himself from finishing at the sight of Sunoo trembling, writhing on the bed, his wings trembling every time Niki’s fingers moved knuckle deep inside him.
"Mm, yeah..." Niki says as he curls two fingers inside, "Hyung likes it when I do it this way, right?"
Sunoo can only nod, eyes tearing as he hopelessly tries to land a kiss on the younger's mouth.
They’ve done this so many times now that Sunoo’s favorite way of asking for it is simple: he’ll take Niki’s hand, all wide-eyed and innocent, and slip a finger into his mouth.
Another time, Niki teaches Sunoo how to take him whole—guiding his hips forward, pressing Sunoo’s head down onto his arousal. He watches as Sunoo slips into that dazed, glassy-eyed state, pliant and obedient. When Niki fists a hand in his hair and finally finishes deep in his throat, Sunoo pulls back slowly, lips slick, and looks up at him with that same sweet smile before swallowing without hesitation.
Fuck, he misses him now.
But alas, he’s dragged into yet another bar by his hyungs, all smiles and hands on his back, urging him to loosen up. To go out, have fun, and socialize like every other teen in the goddamn industry. Maybe even find an easy hookup—“When was the last time you got laid?” one of them jokes.
Niki hits them back with "I must have been too quiet then," before slipping inside Sunoo's room with a smile.
The hyungs, of course, can only stand there bewildered. They must’ve noticed it—that tight, unshakable dependency that’s wrapped around their youngest like a noose.
Niki thinks they should just mind their fucking business.
“It’s okay, you can go,” Sunoo had said softly.
He was lounging on the maknae's bed, wearing nothing but Niki’s shirt again—bare underneath, hair still tousled from their last encounter, legs tucked beneath him as he flipped through one of Niki’s old comics. His wings are fully spread now, flapping in a slow, steady rhythm. They’ve grown massive—arching high above him, the tips brushing against the backs of his thighs.
A sight that Niki’s fifteen-year-old self would’ve shamelessly jerked off to, more than once.
“I don’t want to leave you here,” Niki mutters, sullen, almost childlike.
“You won’t,” Sunoo replies, calm and sure. “You’ll come back home to me. You always do.”
And he’s right. Niki knows it. Something tightens in his chest, throbs low and deep, and before he can stop himself, he’s surging forward—kissing Sunoo hard.
Sunoo giggles, wrapping his arms around Niki’s neck as they tumble back onto the bed together, laughter giving way to something more.
The bar hums with low conversation, the clink of ice against glass, and the muted bass of music that no one’s really listening to. Niki sits hunched over his drink, fingers wrapped tight around the sweating glass, eyes distant—thinking too hard the way he only ever does when Sunoo isn’t beside him.
He doesn’t hear Jake approach—just feels the familiar presence settle beside him, casual as always.
“I’m glad you came with us,” Jake says, signaling the bartender. “You’ve been off the grid lately.”
Niki shrugs, eyes still on his drink. “Busy.”
“Uh-huh.” Jake’s beer arrives, and he takes a sip before turning fully to face him. “It’s been almost a month, man. Since we hung out properly.”
Niki finally glances sideways. “So?”
“So, everyone’s noticed. You’re always with Sunoo these days.”
There’s no accusation in Jake’s voice, not really. He’s infuriatingly nice that way—the nice, big brother. It used to make Niki feel cared for, but right now it feels more patronizing.
Niki scoffs quietly, taking another sip of his drink. “If this is about hookups or whatever, I don’t have time for that anymore.”
Jake hesitates, then says, “This isn’t about hookups. I know you’ve cut all that out. That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what?” Niki asks, voice flat.
Jake sighs, fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “It’s the rest of your life, Niki. You’re letting everything else go. Practice, us, even sleep half the time. Don’t let this… thing with Sunoo consume you.”
Niki’s head turns sharply at that.
“This thing?” he repeats, bitter. “Kindly explain to me what you meant by this thing?”
Jake doesn’t back down. “I mean this ridiculous fixation! We’re not trying to pull you away from him. We’re trying to remind you there’s more to who you are.”
"I still do what I can for the team," Niki argues. "I go to practice, I attend every fucking schedule—"
"But that's the point, Niks." The nickname catches him off guard. "You used to love practice. You used to stay behind just to dance even after training hours."
"So do you expect me not to get tired after all of that?"
"Are you really just tired, or is it because of what you’ve been doing with Sunoo behind our backs?”
Before Niki can snap back, another voice cuts in—low, firm, and unexpectedly sharp.
“He’s right,” Sunghoon says, sliding into the seat on Niki’s other side. He looks calm, but there’s a tension around his mouth. “We’re not attacking you. We’re worried.”
Niki lets out a bitter laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Jake tries again to ease the mood. “Look, we know things have changed. We’re not saying stop seeing Sunoo—just don’t disappear into him.”
But Niki’s already shutting down, gaze hard and distant. “You all need to stop interfering. Whatever this is, it’s mine. Not yours to pick apart.”
Sunghoon’s jaw tightens. For a moment, he looks like he might stay silent like he usually does—but then he speaks, each word deliberate.
“We’re not picking anything apart. But you need to know what’s coming.”
Niki looks at him, eyes narrowing.
Sunghoon continues, quieter now. “Our manager is planning to talk to the agency.”
Niki frowns. “About what?”
Sunghoon doesn’t flinch. “About Sunoo and his wings.”
The words hang heavy in the air.
“And… they’ve scheduled surgery,” he adds.
The world inside Niki tilts.
“What the fuck did you just say?” he says, voice low and dangerous.
Sunghoon meets his gaze. “It’s going to happen either way, Niki.”
Rage hits him like a wave. He stands abruptly, the bar stool scraping against the floor, fists clenched at his sides.
“You’re letting them cut into him?” he spits. “Like he’s some sort of rag doll? Do you even care what he wants?”
“We do,” Jake says quickly. “That’s why we’re telling you—”
“No.” Niki shakes his head, voice rising. “You’re betraying him. You’re betraying me.”
Other people in the bar are turning to look, but Niki doesn’t care. He feels like he’s drowning.
Because underneath the anger is something worse—fear. If they go through with this, if they take Sunoo’s wings, take what’s made him different, beautiful, theirs—then what happens next? What’s left between them?
Niki doesn’t know, nor does he want to find out.
[]
The door slams open with a thunderous crack. Niki storms into the room like a force of nature, barely stopping to breathe as he grabs the nearest bag from under the bed and yanks it open. Clothes are pulled from drawers and shoved in messily—shirts, pants, socks, whatever his hands can find. His movements are fast and frantic, like the walls themselves are about to close in.
Sunoo jolts awake with a sharp inhale, eyes wide and wings flaring upright in alarm. His voice is thick with sleep and panic.
“Niki? What—what’s happening?”
Niki doesn’t answer. He’s moving too fast. Zipping the bag shut with one hand, reaching for his coat and one of his beanies with the other. He walks over and throws both around Sunoo, wrapping him up tightly, trying in vain to conceal the enormous wings that still flare behind him. It’s not enough—but it’ll have to do.
Sunoo’s voice cracks this time. “Niki?”
Niki finally looks at him—really looks—and something wild glints behind his eyes. He grips Sunoo’s shoulders, firm but not unkind, and says only:
“We’re leaving.”
Sunoo stares. “Leaving where?”
He grabs Sunoo’s hand and pulls him out of the dorm, not stopping for explanations, not looking back. They make their way across the Sunoo’s unit, slipping inside as quietly as possible. Niki moves like a machine, heading straight for the closet, grabbing a second bag, and gesturing for Sunoo to do the same.
But Sunoo has had enough.
“Niki,” he says, voice firmer now, planted in place. “Stop. Just—stop. You need to tell me what’s going on. Now.”
Niki freezes. The bag hangs from his fingers, half-packed. His eyes find Sunoo’s across the room, and his expression crumbles for a moment, like the weight of everything is finally crashing down on him.
“They’re going to do it,” he says, barely above a whisper. “They’re going to tell the agency and have some sick bastard operate on you. They’re going to take you away from me. And I—I can’t let that happen.”
Sunoo goes still. His wings twitch, then fold in close. His mouth parts slightly, stunned into silence.
For a long second, neither of them moves.
Then Sunoo crosses the room in two quick strides, cups Niki’s face in his hands, and kisses him, like kissing Niki might ease the fear that had gripped his body in that moment.
“You should’ve told me sooner,” he murmurs against Niki’s lips. His voice is thick with emotion.
“I know,” Niki breathes back, resting his forehead against Sunoo’s. “I know.”
They breathe together in the dark for a long moment. Then Sunoo turns, walks to his dresser, and pulls it open.
“Alright,” he says. “Help me pack.”
The zippers bite down on overstuffed fabric, everything important shoved inside with frantic urgency. Sunoo stands by the door, hoodie drawn over his head, wings folded as tightly as they’ll go beneath Niki’s coat.
The door opens with a soft click.
The hallway is dim, cloaked in late-night stillness. They step out like shadows, wordless. Sunoo walks a half-step behind, the echo of their steps almost swallowed by the silence.
“Sunoo? Niki?”
They both freeze.
Jungwon is at the end of the corridor, hair damp from a shower, wearing slippers, a half-drunk glass of water still in his hand.
Niki slowly turns. His mouth opens, then closes again. He swallows.
“…I’m sorry,” he says.
Jungwon doesn’t move for a long moment. His eyes shift from Niki’s face to the bags at their sides, then to Sunoo—his slight figure bundled up in layers, the impossible shape of wings pressing against the fabric.
Jungwon’s jaw tenses, but when he finally speaks, his voice is calm.
“The key to one of the cars is in the blue bowl by the kitchen counter.”
Niki blinks.
He doesn’t ask why. He just nods once, the tension in his shoulders unreadable. The kitchen is faintly lit by the stove light. The ceramic bowl on the counter sits where it always has. The key glints beneath a spare set of earbuds. Niki grabs it without hesitation.
When he returns to the hallway, Jungwon is still there.
Niki moves past him again, Sunoo already waiting by the door. He places a hand on the knob—but just before he twists it open, Jungwon says:
“Stay safe.”
Niki doesn’t turn around.
He just breathes in, presses the key tighter in his palm, and opens the door.
Then he and Sunoo vanish into the night.
[]
He doesn’t know how long they’ve been driving—two, maybe three hours? The clock doesn’t matter. There’s no destination, no plan, just white-hot panic steering the wheel. That’s all he has to run on. It’s reckless, and he knows it. But he doesn’t stop.
Sunoo doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he looks content, leaning into the passenger seat, window cracked open, wings curled beneath the coat. Maybe it’s the wind, or maybe it’s the simple freedom—after so long trapped in the dorm like some caged, fragile thing.
They’re still somewhere along the city’s edge when Niki spots it: a modest motel tucked off the highway, neon sign humming faintly in the dark. It’s not flashy, not completely rundown either. The lot’s mostly empty, the lights above the reception glow a pale yellow, flickering slightly like a pulse.
Better than the sketchy ones they passed earlier.
He parks around the side, away from any obvious cameras, then slips out of the car. Sunoo follows silently, hood drawn low, wings pressed tight beneath his layers.
Inside the front desk area, the clerk doesn’t look up from her tablet. The place smells faintly of cleaning fluid and old air freshener. Niki pulls out the fake ID—one Heeseung had given him when he was sixteen, back when sneaking into underground clubs had been his only thrill—and slides it across the counter.
He pays in cash, so there's no paper trail.
The keycard is handed over without a word.
As soon as they step into the elevator, Niki exhales sharply, shoulders finally sagging. He clutches the key in one hand and reaches for Sunoo’s with the other, lacing their fingers tightly together as the elevator doors slide shut.
The motel room is small but clean—one queen bed, a chipped dresser, and a TV mounted slightly crooked on the wall. The wallpaper peels faintly in the corners, and the air smells like old linen and lemon-scented disinfectant. A dusty lamp casts a dim orange glow over the room, softening the edges of everything.
Sunoo wanders in first, wide-eyed, moving with the quiet wonder of a child in a place he’s never been. He brushes his fingers over the curtains, the chipped paint on the windowsill, then opens the closet just to peek inside. He doesn’t say anything, just moves slowly—like even this run-down motel room is a breath of fresh air after the weeks spent locked away.
Niki sits down on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands hanging between them. His thoughts churn loud and fast in his skull, unstoppable. There is no plan. No money past the next few days. No idea where to go next. All he has is Sunoo and the sick, unbearable thought of someone slicing his wings open in some sterile, fluorescent room. And that’s enough to keep running.
He knows he’s intense—he’s always been intense—but this? This is madness. Pure, desperate madness.
He’s still spiraling when he feels soft feathers press against his back, a quiet rustle, then warmth cocooning around him. Sunoo’s arms wrap around his shoulders from behind, and his wings follow, folding over both of them like a shelter.
Niki closes his eyes.
And for the first time in hours, he breathes.
“It’ll be okay,” Sunoo says softly. “I’m here.”
Niki gathers him close, arms wrapping around his smaller frame, careful not to crush the wings that fold so naturally between them now. His hand finds the base of them on instinct, rubbing slow, steady circles, muscle memory at this point.
He doesn’t speak. He never really could. Words have never come easily to him.
But his body has always known what to do—on the field, on the stage, in bed. Physicality is his first language, the one he trusts when everything else falls apart.
And now, with panic still thrumming under his skin and the weight of what they’ve done pressing down on him, it’s the only thing that makes sense. The only way he knows how to hold himself together.
Sunoo knows it too. Niki made sure of that—shaped him into someone who could understand what Niki's hands are trying to say when his mouth can’t.
They kiss—slow at first, then deeper. Sunoo parts his lips the way Niki taught him to, soft and yielding, and Niki licks into his mouth, sucking gently on his tongue. He watches as Sunoo's eyes glaze over, the tension bleeding from his body, relaxing into something pliant and familiar—conditioned to respond this way.
Niki lays him down on the bed, peeling off the coat, then the shirt, until Sunoo’s left in nothing but his boxers. He strips off his own shirt too, tossing it somewhere onto the floor without care. Then he presses a finger to Sunoo’s lips—watching as Sunoo takes it in, sucking softly, eyes never leaving Niki’s. Arousal coils hot and steady in Niki’s gut as he palms himself through his jeans, gaze locked on the way Sunoo looks up at him, flushed and expectant, every inch of him lit with delicious anticipation.
Niki trails a hand over Sunoo’s chest, fingers brushing lightly over a nipple—drawing a shiver from him. Sunoo’s legs part instinctively, inviting Niki to settle between them. He leans down, licks over the sensitive nub, teasing it with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue, and feels the way Sunoo gasps, breath hitching.
“N-Niki…”
He presses a kiss to Sunoo’s chest, then sucks a hickey just beneath the collarbone. His mouth moves lower, down to the tented front of Sunoo’s boxers. He mouths at the outline of his erection, hot breath making Sunoo squirm—until a hand presses gently to his shoulder.
Niki glances up, brow raised. “What is it?”
“I… I want to do that,” Sunoo says, voice breathy but certain.
“Do what?”
“Grind on you.”
Niki swallows hard, desire flickering in his eyes. He understands exactly what Sunoo means. Without a word, he shifts their positions—grabbing Sunoo by the hips and flipping them so Sunoo straddles him now, thighs snug around Niki’s waist, his ass pressed against Niki’s bare abs.
Sunoo sticks his tongue out in that teasing way he knows drives Niki wild. Niki obliges, slides a finger into his mouth, watching intently as Sunoo sucks on it with practiced ease—then begins to move, slow and steady, hips rolling forward in lazy arcs. The friction is so fucking delicious.
And exactly what they both want.
Niki watches, entranced, as Sunoo’s wings flutter with every slow thrust of his hips—movements instinctive, beautifully in sync. And god, the sounds he makes—soft, breathy moans spilling from parted lips—make something inside Niki unravel.
He can’t help himself; his hands slide down to cup Sunoo’s ass, squeezing firmly, guiding him to move faster, grind harder. Sunoo obeys, movements growing more desperate, more needy.
Niki feels the wet heat of him through the fabric, boxers damp and sticky, slick smearing across the ridges of his abs with every pass. It’s obscene and addictive.
“Fuck,” Niki breathes, voice low and wrecked, as he grabs Sunoo by the nape and pulls him in for a hungry, possessive kiss. “Look what you’ve become.”
Sunoo just sighs into his mouth, lips parting, lost in the heat of it—still trying to grind down on him, even though Niki’s grip around his waist keeps him from moving the way he wants. It only makes him whine, more desperate, as Niki holds him there, trembling and eager.
Niki’s hand glides to the base of Sunoo’s wings, pressing gently—just enough to make him shiver and let out a sweet moan. Niki leans in, licks Sunoo’s ear, and whispers, rough and knowing. “Yeah… you like that, don’t you?”
Before Sunoo can respond, Niki moves fast—rolling him onto his side, guiding him down until his face meets the pillow. His wings curl inward instinctively, twitching with tension. Niki places a steadying hand on the back of Sunoo’s neck, not hard but firm enough to hold him still, to anchor him.
“Stay just like that,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.
Sunoo breathes out shakily as Niki slips off his boxers, exposing him fully. The air feels cool on his skin, a stark contrast to Niki’s heat. Niki takes a moment, gaze heavy, then lets his palm land roughly on the curve of Sunoo’s ass, watching the way it reddens.
He moves to the bedside drawer, already knowing what he’ll find. He’s stayed in enough motels like this to know the layout by heart. Sure enough, there’s a small bottle of lube tucked in the back. Practiced and efficient, he flips the cap open and squeezes a generous amount into his palm.
Without so much as a warning, he pushes two fingers into Sunoo’s waiting heat. It welcomes him easily—already loose from that morning. Sunoo jerks, muffling a cry into the pillow at the sudden stretch. Niki doesn’t offer comfort, only moves with purpose, fingers curling just right until he finds the spot he’s looking for. Sunoo’s breath hitches, sharp and shaky—a confirmation. Niki brushes lightly against that sensitive bundle inside him, slick and practiced. Sunoo sobs against the sheets, and Niki presses a kiss into his hair.
“Pain will feel good soon,” Niki murmurs sweetly. “It always does, doesn’t it, hyung?”
And despite everything, Sunoo nods. He arches his back, instinctively pressing into Niki’s fingers, chasing the friction. Niki notices—of course, he does—and brings his hand down hard on Sunoo’s ass again.
“Patience, hyung.”
Just when Sunoo feels like he’s on the edge of release, Niki pulls his fingers out. The sudden emptiness makes Sunoo jolt, a soft whine of protest caught in his throat—until Niki rubs the base of his wings again. That touch draws a shuddering sigh of relief, melting the tension right out of him.
Niki brings his slick fingers to his mouth, licking them clean while watching Sunoo watch him. Their eyes lock, and then he smirks as he grips Sunoo’s chin with his free hand.
“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he says, voice low. “You know what that means, right, hyung?”
Sunoo shakes his head yes, still trembling, still empty.
“Don’t worry.” Niki unclasps his belt, the sound sharp in the quiet. ”I’ll be gentle.” He frees himself, and when Sunoo’s eyes widen at the sight, Niki lets out a soft laugh. “Maybe.”
“I’d love to do it while you’re facing me,” Niki murmurs, squeezing more lube onto his length, coating himself slowly. “But your wings are in the way.”
His hands slide over Sunoo’s waist, fingers pressing into his skin. “So, since I can’t see you, hyung…”
He lines himself up, positioning at the entrance, then pushes in—so slow that the tight heat draws a hiss from his lips. Shit, his dick is welcomed by the soft, moist walls, and it takes all of Niki's control not to release right there and then.
“You can make noises instead,” he breathes.
The sounds Sunoo makes when Niki pushes into him only fuel his hunger more. With Sunoo’s wings spread flat, Niki has no choice but to brace himself against the headboard, using the leverage to drive into him hard. The way Sunoo’s body clings—tight, hot, pulling him in with every thrust—gives Niki the friction he’s been craving for weeks.
“How does it feel?” Niki breathes out, a dark laugh escaping him. He’s never felt this high, this raw—like his entire body’s burning with possession. “For me to have you here, like this… in some cheap, forgotten motel?”
Sunoo’s only answer is a broken sound, his body trembling beneath every movement, every press of Niki's cock in him. He clutches the pillow like an anchor, breath hitching with each unforgiving rhythm Niki sets. His wings twitch helplessly, spread wide as if to surrender.
Niki watches the way he responds—every flinch, every sound like a prayer pulled from his lungs. There’s something heady in the way Sunoo gives himself over, not just with his body, but his whole being.
“It f-feels good!” Sunoo says, his ragged breathing drowning everything else. Niki's had him with his tongue and fingers before, but nothing compares to the stretch of dick, ramming into his prostate with purpose. It doesn't help that Niki only chuckles when he sees Sunoo flail, desperate to hold onto something—anything.
“Ah– Ah—AH–!” are the only sounds that escape his mouth, thoughts turning into pleasant buzzing. Niki feels himself pushing so deep inside, he wishes Sunoo had a womb so he could mold it to his shape—if that’s even possible.
He pulls Sunoo to him, and now they’re both kneeling on the bed. Niki cages him in his arms, palms pressed to the wall. He sees it—the way Sunoo is losing coherence as time goes by. Whether it’s from pain or pleasure doesn’t matter, as long as it’s because of him.
“More, please!” Sunoo rasps, thrusting his hips toward the younger. His tongue lolls out, and Niki slides a finger into his mouth like he always does. Watches as Sunoo takes it gratefully, saliva dripping down his chin.
“Yes, take it, hyung,” Niki whispers, voice hoarse from the effort. “Only me. I’m the only one who can love you like this.”
Sunoo cries out at the ruthless pace, their hips colliding with a sharp, wet slap each time. “O-only?” he repeats, breath catching.
“No one else,” Niki snarls, thrusting harder—deeper. He shifts his grip to Sunoo’s hips, ramming into him until he finds that sensitive spot again. “Just me.”
Sunoo whimpers, the strength in his legs finally giving out. He collapses onto the bed, trembling—and Niki grabs hold of his wings. His fingers dig in at the base as he pulls, thrusting deeper still. Sunoo yelps, then moans raggedly as Niki pulls him into a bruising embrace, kissing the back of his head just as his cum spills deep inside him.
God—Niki’s never felt release like this. The pleasure of it nearly makes him black out.
The sensation is too much for Sunoo—because the moment Niki releases inside him, his body jerks, trembling as he comes with a broken cry. Niki doesn’t let go. He holds him through it, tight and possessive, lips finding him mid-release.
He needs Sunoo to remember this. The way they were—and how it felt for him to lose his virginity in some cheap, rundown motel after everyone had turned their backs on him. That the only place he’ll ever belong to—the only arms he can ever fall into—are Niki’s.
No one else. Ever.
[]
There are a couple more rounds after that.
At one point, Sunoo rides him—and Niki watches in awe as his wings flutter behind him, iridescent like pearls.
It’s wicked, the way he looks like a fucking angel, yet the expression on his face is nothing short of a bitch in heat.
But what he likes best is being taken from behind, Niki’s hands gripping his wings. There’s no pain there anymore—everything narrowing to the stretch he feels the moment Niki buries his huge cock inside with a groan and a low, breathless, “Moan for me.”
The agency, the hyungs, the surgery—everything else fades into nothing. In this room, with Sunoo moaning sweetly beneath him, begging for more—when just hours ago he was untouched—Niki feels a dark, electric thrill pulse through his veins.
He kissed him—driven by a need to claim. To brand every inch of Sunoo’s skin as his, until there’s no part of him left untouched.
“N-Niki,” Sunoo cries out just as Niki pushes into him again, thrusting deep—relentless, one more time that night. “Please don’t leave me.”
Their bodies are slick with sweat, exhausted but still burning with the heat between them.
Niki finds his mouth and kisses him—slow at first, then hard enough to bruise. And when he comes inside him again, he murmurs against Sunoo’s lips, “Why would I?”
Sunoo shivers, melting into him.
“You’re mine,” Niki breathes, “just as I’m yours, hyung.”
[]
Niki wakes to light filtering through pale curtains in the soft hush of morning, brushing across his face. He blinks slowly.
And then he sees them.
Feathers.
Scattered like snowfall—thin, weightless tufts of white tangled in the bedsheets, clinging to his clothes, drifting in the air. They cover the mattress and the floor, dust the window sill, and hover near the ceiling like remnants of a dream already slipping from memory.
His heart drops.
In one breathless motion, Niki sits up. The covers slide off his chest as he turns, eyes locking on the figure curled beside him.
Sunoo.
He lies on his side, breath soft and steady, face tilted toward the light. But his back—Niki’s eyes scan over it—is bare. No wings. There's no shimmer beneath the skin. No faint, familiar rise of hidden bones. Just smooth, unmarred skin, and a mess of feathers around him like the aftermath of something divine being ripped away.
“Hyung?”
Niki reaches out, fingers trembling as they hover above Sunoo’s shoulder blades. He touches—slowly, carefully. He receives no reaction. Not even a twitch or a flicker of movement from phantom limbs. The warmth is there, the shape of him still familiar—but the wings—the wings are gone.
“Sunoo hyung, wake up.” His voice cracks.
Sunoo stirs with a soft noise, lips parting in a sleepy breath. He blinks up at Niki, lashes fluttering as his vision clears. “...Niki?”
Niki swallows, glancing at the feathers still suspended in the air like ghosts. “Your wings,” he says quietly. “They’re—” He falters. “They’re not there.”
For a moment, Sunoo only stares at him—confused, heavy with sleep.
Then he shifts, slowly sitting up. His hands brush over his shoulders, down to his sides, like he’s expecting to feel the weight that’s always been there.
Realization dawns slowly, stretching across his face like sunlight cutting through fog.
His breath hitches.
And then he laughs.
Breathless and bright, wild with disbelief.
“Oh my god,” Sunoo whispers. His eyes are wide as he turns to Niki, awe painted across every inch of him. “Niki—I—oh my god.”
He stumbles out of bed, barefoot against the wood floor, spinning once in place like a boy trying to see his own back. As if still not feeling the wings means they might suddenly return. His hands fly to his mouth, his expression raw—almost childlike.
“They’re gone. They’re actually gone!”
Niki stares, frozen. Something inside him breaks—quietly, like a crack beneath the surface. A dark, slow, heavy thing unfurls in its place, coiling through his chest, grappling for a semblance of control.
Sunoo turns to him again, beaming. “We can go back,” he says, voice trembling with hope. “We can go back to the dorm. We’ll say it was a shaman or—someone who healed me. We’ll come up with something. It'll work.”
He’s smiling at Niki. Thinking that this might have been a miracle. Like he hasn’t just lost something sacred—something that tied him to Niki in ways deeper than either of them could name.
Niki rises slowly from the bed. His bare feet sink into a carpet of feathers.
He crosses to Sunoo and gently cups his face in both hands, thumbs brushing over Sunoo’s cheekbones, tender and soft. But his gaze is unreadable.
“Hyung,” he murmurs, voice deep but sweet. “Remember what they wanted to do to you.”
The words are like salt to a festering wound.
Niki leans closer, his breath warm against Sunoo’s skin. “They were going to cut into your wings.”
Sunoo’s smile falters. The shine in his eyes dims. His breath hitches differently now—not with joy, but memories of how the members acted without his consent. And how he had been treated as some sort of biological anomaly by people he'd considered his family.
“Oh,” he whispers, voice thin. “Right…”
He looks up at Niki, eyes a little lost, searching for what to do next. “What am I gonna do?”
Niki doesn’t answer. He doesn’t really need to.
He pulls Sunoo in—and kisses him.
It isn’t gentle. It isn’t meant to soothe—but Sunoo wouldn’t know the difference. He only gasps into it, fists curling into Niki’s chest, his resistance dissolving under the weight of the kiss.
Because Niki taught him how to confuse pain with comfort, how to blur the line between roughness and affection—until even this felt like love.
When Niki finally pulls away, Sunoo’s eyes are glazed and his lips are parted—the sight tugs something triumphant out of Niki, cruel and pleased all at once.
“Don’t worry, hyung,” he says. “From now on, leave everything up to me, okay?”
Sunoo nods, and Niki watches as his thoughts begin to slip, folding inward—retreating into that quiet, pliant headspace Niki always knew how to lead him to. He smiles sweetly, presses a kiss to Sunoo’s cheek.
“Good,” he says, satisfied.
Finally—a happily ever after he can live with.
[]
When they walk through the door, it’s quiet.
Too quiet for a dorm full of boys who’ve spent the night oscillating between panic and forced normalcy. Then the silence breaks.
“Are you insane?”
Jay’s voice slices through the room. He’s already crossing the living area, expression dark. “You just left in the middle of the damn night. Without a goddamn license. Without telling anyone!”
Sunoo flinches slightly, but Niki steps forward before he can say anything, squaring his shoulders like a shield. Jake notices the subtle shift in him—calm, too calm.
“I got us there and back just fine,” Niki says coolly, like he's almost bored of the conversation even though it hasn't even started yet.
“That’s not the point.” Jay's jaw is tight. “You ran away and you stole the car. What if something happened to you? To him?”
“I let them go,” Jungwon says quietly from the kitchen.
Jay whips around. “You what?”
“I let them go,” Jungwon repeats, a little firmer. “They were already set on it. I figured... if I tried to stop them, they'd just run anyway. So I made sure there was a tracker on the car.”
Jake sees it then—how Niki stiffens for half a second, and how his jaw twitches. Like he was thinking, Of course there was a tracker. Of course.
Jay throws his hands up in disbelief. “So we’re just fine with letting them go rogue now?”
Heeseung stands from the couch, raising both hands in peace. “Okay, okay. Look—everyone’s here. Safe and in one piece. And hey—” He gestures toward Sunoo. “No more wings. We don’t have to worry anymore, right?”
There’s a pause as everyone looks at Sunoo.
He smiles, small and shy, the way he used to.
Jake knows that smile. It’s the one Sunoo puts on when people expect him to be okay.
“Yeah,” Sunoo says softly. “They’re gone.”
Jay sighs hard through his nose, pacing away. “I still think this was reckless.”
Sunghoon hasn’t said a word. He lingers near the hallway, eyes flickering between them. The last time Jake saw Sunghoon and Niki in the same room, there were raised voices—Sunghoon accusing, Niki on the verge of a crash out.
Now, Sunghoon steps forward and wraps both Sunoo and Niki into a careful, slightly awkward hug. “I’m just glad you’re at least safe,” he says, voice thin with emotion. “Both of you.”
For a moment, it looks like everything is fine. Sunoo’s giggling softly into Sunghoon’s shoulder, Heeseung is teasing Jay into finally sitting down, and Niki—
Niki turns to Jake.
Their eyes meet.
And Jake knows.
He knows because the eyes looking back at him don’t belong to the same boy who used to curl up on the couch and fall asleep with his head in Jake’s lap after practice. Niki had always been intense—sometimes unsettling, like when he’d offhandedly say he wanted to die with all his hyungs. He was absolute in his convictions, stubborn to the bone. But he was also sweet then, warm, still a little childish.
What Jake sees now is different. The gaze is colder, sharper, and laced with a possessiveness he can’t quite name. It’s just a second—but Jake sees it. Feels it like ice water through his spine.
Then Niki’s face shifts.
He smiles.
“We’re home, Jake hyung,” he says. Cheerful and easy like nothing’s ever changed.
Jake tries to smile back. But something in his chest tightens.
Because something has changed.
Sunoo’s transformation wasn’t just physical—it carved into something deeper, something invisible. Not just in him, but in Niki too. They weren’t just two people anymore, but two halves of something twisted, something wrong. Jake couldn’t pinpoint when it started, if there had been a single moment where things tipped past the point of no return. All he knew was the weight of failure pressing down—that somehow, all of them had a hand in causing this.
And Jake’s not sure they’ll ever come back from it.