(no) Strings Attached

No Need To Pretend

The second time he sees light reflecting on Seonghwa's face was just a few minutes after. Seonghwa's adam's apple bobbed when he forcefully gulped down.

Without any words this time he stood up.

Seonghwa stood by the long windows of the upstairs hallway, his fingers wrapped too tightly around the stem of a half-empty wine glass. He focused on the dark stretch of garden below, letting his eyes blur the lights into soft smudges. The buzz of the party hummed from behind the walls like a distant swarm.

He had made it through most of the night.
Smiled at the right moments. Laughed when expected. Accepted compliments with grace. Avoided San. Mostly.

He had performed.

And yet, here he was—alone, hiding, trying to exhale the tightness in his chest.

"I thought I might find you here."

The voice was unmistakable—smooth and almost too casual, like it belonged somewhere closer. Seonghwa didn't flinch, but he didn't turn either.

"I just needed a moment," he replied, calm and neutral. The exact tone he'd practiced for years.

Hongjoong stepped beside him silently, hands in his pockets. The scent of his cologne drifted in like a soft nudge, subtle but confident. Seonghwa hated that he noticed.

"I could tell." Hongjoong leaned slightly toward the glass, eyes flickering over the garden. "You get this look when you're pretending not to be overwhelmed."

Seonghwa's brows twitched. "I don't pretend."

"Sure," Hongjoong grinned, and the single word held so much teasing patience that Seonghwa nearly scoffed. He didn't.

They stood in silence for a moment, the quiet growing heavy, but not uncomfortable. Not quite.

"You really do like control, don't you?"
Hongjoong finally asked, his voice lower this time, more curious than mocking.

"I just like being prepared." Seonghwa's answer was too fast.

Hongjoong's gaze dropped to his hands. "Even when you're holding a glass like it's about to shatter?"

Seonghwa blinked, looked down—and loosened his grip by a hair. His knuckles were white. He let out a breath, eyes closing briefly.

"You're observant."

"I've always been observant when it comes to you."

Seonghwa's eyes snapped to him then. But Hongjoong wasn't looking back—he was studying the garden, like he hadn't just slipped a confession into the air like a coin into water.

Like he hadn't just made Seonghwa's pulse pick up.

"You say things..." Seonghwa began, but stopped. His voice had dipped, soft and uncertain.

Hongjoong turned his head toward him, smiling lazily. "Things?"

"Things like that," Seonghwa said more firmly now, defensive without knowing what he was defending. "You say them so—so casually."

Hongjoong tilted his head, stepping half a pace closer, and Seonghwa noticed that he didn't smell like wine or sweat or even the smoke in the air. He smelled warm. Clean. A little sharp.

"I only say what I mean."

His words were gentle, but there was steel under them.

Seonghwa swallowed. He felt the ground beneath him shift a little—like standing too close to a cliff's edge, where a breeze might push you somewhere you're not supposed to go.

"And what do you mean, exactly?" he asked, voice quieter now.

Hongjoong met his gaze at last, and something in his smile softened. "That you don't have to be a fortress around me."

Seonghwa held his breath.

He could feel the usual instinct creeping in, rebuild the wall, retreat behind it, stay flawless.

But something in the way Hongjoong was looking at him—unafraid, unfazed, unbothered by the layers—made Seonghwa's grip on that instinct loosen just slightly.

Just for a moment.

He let his shoulders drop by a fraction. Let out a real breath.

"Sometimes I forget how exhausting it is," he murmured, as if to the window, as if not speaking at all.

"What is?"

"Being... who they want me to be."

Hongjoong didn't respond immediately. His hand brushed over Seonghwa's just slightly, only to take the wine glass from him. He set it on the table behind them.

Then, with both hands free, he turned—facing Seonghwa fully now, close but not imposing.

"I'm not 'they.'"

And before Seonghwa could react, Hongjoong gently reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Slow. Unassuming. Like he had every right to.

Seonghwa froze—not because he was afraid, but because for the first time all night, someone touched him and it didn't feel like a performance.

He didn't move. Didn't pull away.

Instead, he let his eyes fall closed for just one heartbeat.

It was enough.

And then, the wall started to rebuild. Not coldly, but out of habit. His spine straightened, jaw set just a little tighter.

But Hongjoong had seen it.

That second. That softness.

And he didn't call it out. Didn't press for more. He simply smiled again, hands sliding back into his pockets.

"Come back downstairs when you're ready," he said, and then started to walk off—like he hadn't just shaken Seonghwa to his core with a single touch.

Left in silence, Seonghwa finally exhaled again.

But this time, it sounded less like a performance.

A/N
Unedited, but I had to upload eventually 😭👍

I hope you liked this chapter ❤️