Chapter Text
It was August, the transition from summer to autumn. It was August, where rain felt heavier than it’s supposed to, though really the burden in the humans' hearts could never compare. It was August, when Yeonjun realized what he had harbored in his hefty chest for a long time was something beyond his comprehension.
The brunet took a look at himself on the practice room mirror. It was enormous, covering the whole side of that room’s wall. Only one of the lights were on, so it was pretty dim, since he was the only one there anyways. It was a little chilly as he could hear the heavy rain from outside the building, although the walls were almost sound proof. But the air wasn’t the only one that made him feel cold in that room.
Technically, the break wasn’t over just yet. Taehyun was still flying somewhere in Greece or Spain, who knows? That boy was everywhere around the world, as if he spun with the earth’s rotation, spending his time travelling to lengths the other members didn’t expect him to cover. The other maknae was busy catching up with his sisters, though he would always claim to despise them. Kai visited his family’s hometown, to stay with his grandmother and his mother, while continuously bothering Lea, and hanging out with Hiyyih during her free time. Beomgyu was busy… catching up his sleep schedule. Recently, he got his anxiety disorder medicated, so he tried his best to rest his body and soul, so the moment he came back, he could be easy with everything. Though, really, he was the one who called every other member the most, asking them how they had been doing, telling them what’s up. It’s almost like everyone missed each other. They did.
Only Yeonjun was in the company’s building a week before his break was over, as far as he knew. He was already bored out of his mind since his workaholic ass had love for his art ingrained in his head and coursing through his blood. So, there he was, all alone, staring into the ominous abyss that was his own reflection.
If he was younger, he would be startled by any sudden noise. But he was old enough to become a parliament member by then, so he could embrace himself enough to let himself drown in the silence, not bothered if anything came up. Not even mice. Not even ghosts. Not even Bang PD.
He sighed. The quietness that settled scared him as it grew, and it wasn't for the very thing that might come and take him away, but rather the way it's forcing him to acknowledge his own self in a way he didn't want to.
So, he shifted.
Yeonjun knew he was unable to not live for the life he had sacrificed for art, so he did. He breathed that same air to push himself further, and further, even though at times he would be losing himself so much, he forgot he was merely a human with limitations.
Slowly, he curled his arms on his chest, then stretched it straight to reach his toes, then back and forth to warm himself up, letting his muscles know that he was going to tear himself into dance. He had given up his whole world and life to be an idol, so why not go all in? Or so he thought to himself. There was no point in turning back, anyways. At least, that’s what he told himself, frankly, quite a lot.
Yeonjun took a deep breath before releasing it then jumping on his own feet dramatically. His hand automatically hovered to sync his phone to the speaker, then randomly picked a song from his freestyle playlist. He threw his phone to the couch, and just moved, stiffly at first then surely as the song moved on.
“Youth” by Troye Sivan had never disappointed him once on expressing himself. Yeonjun felt his body precisely moved, but flowing too like liquid. He could feel every single tune empowering his nerves, shooting his synapses, engraving the lyrics into his ears, and drowning himself in the moment.
It wasn’t hip hop-ish, sure. But it was freeing. Like Yeonjun was able to be someone else for a moment. Like he didn’t have to strangle himself into a little box, but rather give himself a chance to write a story in cursive without putting on the frames one by one. He was liberated.
The brunet found himself fond of his own freestyle choreography, though it was unusual he could be satisfied easily with his own self. Perhaps it was because the familiar movement was something he once had learned to do as a couple routine, though heavily modified to suit his own liking. Perhaps it was how the lyrics resembled what he once felt when he was young and in love. Perhaps it was how it felt like his shackles were taken away. It didn’t really matter. He was just so indulged, enjoying the time passing, that he found himself humming to the lyrics while not paying attention to whatever could come since he closed his eyes shut.
“And when the lights start flashing like a photo booth, and the stars exploding, we’ll be fire proof,” he chanted softly.
Then, he felt a familiar warmth seeping through the grip on his wrist. Though he brushed it off as a mere figment of imagination.
“My youth, my youth is yours, tripping on skies, sipping waterfalls,” continued a voice. It was soft, sickly. Like the voice of an angel, drawing Yeonjun in. Like the sounds of nature, calling Yeonjun to lie down on the ground of his home, the earth.
Yeonjun couldn’t help but open his eyes. He awoke to the sight of whom he thought was just a hallucination, a dream he wished so hard to be true in a split second. He was glad it wasn’t just a dream.
The man who gripped his wrist was exactly whom he had longed for. He smiled, as a piece of hair fell off his face, though it made Yeonjun’s blurry sight of the man dreamier instead. He was blond, a bit different since he last met him, though almost the same as he was a couple years prior. Well, he was the same to Yeonjun, still someone held so dearly to the heart, someone whom Yeonjun would choose over himself in a heartbeat.
The elder had tugged a smile on the corner of his lips after mouthing the blond’s name with a little hesitation, tilting his head a little, a bit puzzled on how to react. But he continued anyways, persistent, picking up where he left right away.
“My youth, my youth is yours, runaway now and forevermore,” sung Yeonjun softly. “My youth, my youth is yours, a truth so loud you can't ignore.”
Then they synced while their gazes were stuck on each other. “My youth, my youth, my youth. My youth is yours.”
It was like Yeonjun never danced alone from the start. The younger instantly matched Yeonjun’s energy and movement, dragging his body to mirror the elder. He, too, was immersed in the song, keeping up with Yeonjun as their bodies remember the choreography they once learned back when they were trainees, even though it became heavily modified enough to be called freestyle then as it was personal.
Soobin.
It was like there was nothing in the world but the two of them, completely engulfed by the moment. They danced without watching eyes, or cheering fans, just letting themselves exist for the sole reason of art and their passion for it. As if swallowed whole, they stirred without thinking, dancing as if the world was ending and the only thing they could do was to wait for the time to take them both as they were in each other’s embrace.
The lyrics dragged on, crossing another verse and another chorus. And what felt like forever—not because of the sadness it brought but rather the presence of each other that had tinged their souls with serenity—finally came to an end.
Their youths belonged to one another.
The silence after the last note hung heavier than the rain outside, remaining. For a moment, Yeonjun thought the universe itself had paused to witness their reunion, to let him hear only the sound of his own heartbeat and the faint breath of the man before him.
Choi Soobin.
The name reverberated inside him, sharper than the beat of any song, louder than the applause of any crowd. He hadn’t said it aloud yet, but his lips trembled, on the verge of letting it slip past, fragile and real.
The younger smiled faintly, though his eyes carried the same depth that had always pulled Yeonjun in—gentle, yet heavy with everything left unsaid. The ending of the choreography had Soobin facing Yeonjun as the younger held the elder’s wrist up on the air. But he lingered on Yeonjun’s wrist for some passing seconds, thumb brushing circles unconsciously, as if reminding him he wasn’t just a ghost from memory.
“You never change, hyung,” Soobin whispered, his voice soft but cutting through the thick air. “Dancing when no one’s watching, like you’re trying to burn yourself alive. The break isn’t even over yet and you’re here, trying to do whatever you’re doing.”
Yeonjun almost laughed, except it cracked somewhere in his chest. “And you always had a way of catching me when I didn’t want to be caught.”
The younger tilted his head, lips twitching into something between a grin and a wince, and for a moment it was like they had slipped back in time—before the breaks, before the silences, before the weight of being who they were crushed the air between them.
“Why are you here?” Yeonjun asked finally, though his tone betrayed him. He wasn’t demanding an answer. He was afraid of one.
Soobin’s hand tightened ever so slightly around his wrist. “Because you’re here.”
It was such a simple answer, and yet it made Yeonjun’s chest ache more than any lyric ever could. He realized then that no matter how many times he tried to bury it under choreography, under perfection, under the idol façade, this feeling had been waiting. Patient, persistent, untamed.
Yeonjun hadn’t realized back then. Sure, he knew how much he loved Soobin as a dongsaeng, as a leader, and vice versa as Soobin looked up to Yeonjun, as an inspiration, as the eldest member, as a friend. Sure, they had lived together for seven years by then, knowing each other’s preference by detail like no one else. Sure, Yeonjun knew that there was some kind of raw unexplainable connection between them that it just clicked whenever they’re around each other. But Yeonjun had let it be, ignoring it deliberately though aching, praying that if he didn’t care about it enough, it would just pass with the wind and the seasons. That it was just how he would normally see his friends at times, then moments would pass and he would simply revert to how he originally thought of them. That it was nothing as he convinced himself, lying for his own sanity and their bond’s sake.
But it never did. It was one adamant feeling.
“Soobin-ah,” he murmured.
The younger loosened his grasp, letting Yeonjun just stand in front of him.
“Yes?”
What could a one-time thing do any harm to them? Or so, Yeonjun thought.
For once, Yeonjun couldn’t look at the mirror. He didn’t want to see himself anymore. He only wanted to see the man in front of him. He betrayed himself, letting it slip from his lips. “Then dance with me,” he muttered, almost like a plea, hand finding Soobin’s wrist to pull him closer into the dim light that felt rather like a spotlight.
The younger blinked in surprise, but his lips curved softly, knowingly, like he had been waiting for that all along.
“What song do you have in mind?” asked Soobin, gently, innocently. But he pulled Yeonjun closer until Yeonjun could feel Soobin’s breath on his skin. “Another couple-coded song?” He teased playfully with a small smirk as if he knew Yeonjun was all bark no bite, and that he would fold the moment Soobin flirted back. "In the Middle of the Night? In the Name of Love?"
Yeonjun huffed and rolled his eyes, before pushing the younger away, trying to play it off as he was annoyed instead of flattered, knowing his ears were burning red as he was flustered. “You know back then they only chose us to do this song because our height difference isn’t that much, right?”
“No, they didn’t,” replied Soobin defensively. “It was because I was equally good with you and we had undeniable chemistry.”
“Says who?”
“Me,” answered Soobin, before chuckling softly.
“Whatever, I’m annoyed now,” said Yeonjun, walking away to the couch to sit and retrieve his phone. “Seriously, what are you doing?”
“I’m here because the upper management wanted to talk about our upcoming schedules and contract renew. What are you doing though?” Soobin raised one of his eyebrows, as he turned to face Yeonjun who was already slouching on the couch with his phone in his hands. “I thought you promised me–no, all of us–to take as much rest as possible and hang out with your friends.”
“Well, you got me there,” said Yeonjun. “Everyone’s already busy again, so now I’m bored and being here is much more comfortable than watching sappy rom-coms alone in the dorm.” Emphasis on alone. “Besides, I’ve run out of ice cream and ‘m too lazy to go to the supermarket.”
“Too lazy to go to the supermarket but energetic enough to dance here?” Soobin scoffed. He walked over to the couch as he scooted so he could lay his head on Yeonjun’s lap just like the old days. “You’re so weird, Yeonjun hyung.”
"How was your mom and sister? I really miss Dokyung and Odi." Yeonjun tried his best to seamlessly change the topic, though failed miserably.
"Don't change the topic, hyung," replied Soobin. "You're so unbelievable."
Yeonjun couldn’t budge. His eyes were fixated upon the angel beneath him, and his hand found its way automatically to caress Soobin’s hair in a manner of a partner. Fuzzy. His hand instinctively moved to fiddle with Soobin's ear. Soft, stretchy.
The brunet felt an odd kind of warmth pooling his chest and stomach.
“But you love me,” joked Yeonjun, although he wasn’t fully playing around. His stoicism of a mask slipped a little.
“Unfortunately.”
“You can get off my lap if it’s that unfortunate,” added Yeonjun, as if he was hurt. But even then, the sight of Soobin was so intoxicating, undeniably irresistible. He tried to pull himself together, clearing his throat and pulled himself from having his gaze towards the younger, so that the thought of kissing him right then and there could disappear in a moment.
Yeonjun had thought about it for a while. He knew there were times where he could put himself in the shoes of dating his friends, purely out of curiosity. There was a time where Taehyun looked so good as he was fresh out of the gym that Yeonjun imagined if it would be fun to present Taehyun as his boyfriend in the parties they would attend, thinking of how it would make him so proud. But it was there for just a fleeting moment. There was a time when Beomgyu was so funny that he imagined if he could laugh together and do mischievous things in the dorms together, but that figment of thought didn’t last longer than a mere ten minutes. There was a time where he thought Wooyoung’s outfit was so amazing and matched with his that he thought it would be nice to go on shopping dates with the latter, though then it passed in a minute the moment San showed up and Wooyoung’s smile bloomed because he was head over heels for that man, in which to Yeonjun's defense was mildly disturbing and highly disgusting to a certain extent of how whipped Wooyoung was. And all those were fleeting moments, just things to pass on his overthinking head, before it disappeared with almost no trace left behind, but just a funny moment that could be recalled only if he tried to remember them hard enough.
But at that time, Yeonjun finally realized what he thought of Soobin was never a fleeting thing. At nights when Yeonjun would feel lonely and Soobin would crawl up his bed to cuddle him to sleep, the brunet thought if he could have the blond in that way for the rest of his life. At days where he would see Soobin in the clothes he had borrowed from the elder, Yeonjun would think of a life where they could always be themselves like that, domestic and all soft, not having to think about anything else in the world, and how badly he wished he could have that in this lifetime.
Reminiscing, he did.
The brunet remembered the time Soobin looked so good in that same hair color a couple years ago, and how he constantly begged the hairstylist to let him keep the color for some while because “the fans love the look,” though secretly he just loved how it enhanced Soobin’s natural beauty. Yeonjun got reminded on how Soobin would always make him laugh with the insurmountable amounts of absurd jokes, be it just to lift Yeonjun’s mood up when he’s down, or at random times, blurting out peculiar things. His mind got drifted to times where he would match Soobin’s outfit accidentally, and Soobin would be clapping his hands adorably before pleading to take mirror selfies together.
Yeonjun hadn’t had the chance to rethink before, to conclude how he felt towards the younger, how Soobin had affected him.
But when it hit him, it was clear then and there.
Soobin had always been charming, intriguing. He was the kind that was unknowingly hypnotizing, strangely always magnetic. But thoughts of kissing him out of nowhere, without any possibly reasonable excuse were absolutely not platonic. Soobin had always been wonderful, a home that Yeonjun would call comfort and anchor. But thoughts of living a life together for the rest of it the way they had spent their whole youth by each other, adopting some dogs on the countryside, were anything but just friendly.
Yeonjun loved Soobin.
No, he was in love with Soobin. And it made him yearn, so desperately.
“Your lap is mine,” replied Soobin nonchalantly as his hand reached to grip on Yeonjun’s knees. “And no one will ever be able to take it away from me. Not even you.”
“Oh yeah? Watch this,” remarked Yeonjun, jokingly, before swiftly moving to stand up, trying to leave Soobin hitting his head on the couch.
But instead, Soobin got up a little and found Yeonjun’s waist, before pulling the elder to stay seated and let his thighs be Soobin’s personal favorite pillows. And, Soobin’s strength startled Yeonjun—half because of the grip around his waist, half because of the way it felt too natural, too easy, like Soobin had done it countless times in dreams neither of them dared to admit having.
“Hey,” Yeonjun muttered, pretending to protest, but the words came out weak, breathless. His hand had landed against Soobin’s shoulder, palm flattening as if holding himself steady when, in truth, it was Soobin who anchored him.
“You’re not going anywhere. Even if you're leaving, I'll follow you to the ends of the earth,” the younger said, his tone casual, but there was an undertone—low, certain, intimate—that made Yeonjun’s pulse trip over itself. “You said it yourself. You’re bored. So let me keep you company.”
Yeonjun wanted to laugh, wanted to brush it off like he always did, but the atmosphere had shifted. The dim studio, the rain pounding faintly outside, the ghost of their dance still humming in their veins—it all weighed heavy, pressing them closer.
“Ugh,” groaned Yeonjun though he was grinning sheepishly. “You’re so annoying,” he continued, not wanting to address the tension in the room. Even when Soobin was smiling and bothering him, Yeonjun couldn't help but fall even harder.
“And you’re going to have to deal with it for the rest of your life.”
“Oh-ho? One day, I’m going to get married and then you will no longer be doing whatever prick shit you’re doing to me right now,” joked Yeonjun.
But it landed harshly, horribly.
There came the wave of silence neither expected to crash. Soobin stiffened, so did Yeonjun. There was something in Yeonjun’s statement that made the air around them tighten a little, in a way that made them lose their coziness.
Soobin sat back up. “Right.”
Yeonjun froze. He hadn’t meant it to come out like that—not so blunt, not so dismissive. He meant it as banter, another line to push away the pounding in his chest, but Soobin’s silence was heavier than the rain outside.
The younger’s gaze dropped to the floor, the faintest shadow crossing his face. “Right,” he repeated, quieter this time. His fingers had slipped from Yeonjun’s waist, leaving behind a ghost of warmth Yeonjun wished he could reclaim.
Yeonjun cursed himself silently. He wanted to reach out, to pull the words back, but his tongue felt tied. The way Soobin’s shoulders squared, guarded, told him he had touched something deeper than he realized.
It was August, plain and set across the streets and opened in the grey skies. It was August when Yeonjun finally knew what the name of how he felt towards Soobin, though it was silly for him for being so hypocritical after writing countless love songs only to not be able to differentiate his obvious romantic interest than his usual platonic love and care. It was August when Yeonjun made a mistake with one said line, not recognizing the heavy meaning it brought until it was said.
“Do you want to practice our songs?” Soobin smiled as he asked, but he couldn’t hide the pain behind his eyes. “It’s been some time, so it’s nice to practice so we can perform our best for MoA later, right?” But the tinge of hurt in his tone scared Yeonjun. Like the truth underlying was him telling Yeonjun that their closeness was just a performance, a mere public display of affection for the sake of it.
And Yeonjun wanted so badly to tell Soobin to discard that thought immediately, but he found his throat dry.
“Yes,” answered Yeonjun. He gulped.
It was August when Yeonjun made a mistake with one said line, not recognizing the heavy meaning it brought until it was said.
So, Yeonjun just sighed, blaming his stupid self and carried on with the practice he initially intended to do.