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2023
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[ this is my favorite chapter yet, so comments are extra encouraged! also, this goes back to when joong and san were photographed! love you all 🧡 ]
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The picture surfaced and San disappeared as the internet erupted with chaos, news sites and fans leaping at any taste of information involving the two distorted figures in the photo.
The picture was dark, colors blurry, but the idols were both undoubtedly male and unreasonably close, vibrant locks of blond and ocean blue tangled together.
They had all come home from the bar that night with terror in their eyes and dread in their stomachs, unable to look at each other as they alerted the company and were sent scouring the internet for the photo.
Mingi found it first, and the poor boy had barely managed to hand Hongjoong his phone before he bursted into tears, hands shaking as he drew up his knees to his chin and hid behind his sleeves.
Hongjoong stared at him, speechless even with his heart racing, unable to reach out to comfort when his own world was toppling over.
He stood up from his seat with nauseating uneasiness, phone clutched in hand, and allowed Yeosang and Seonghwa to take his place.
Seonghwa hardly had the chance to settle down in a seat before Jongho was throwing himself into the older man's chest, hiding his face just in time for a sob to crumble out of him.
Yeosang curled into the youngest from behind, arms looped around his waist, face buried in the back of his hair where he nuzzled playfully.
He pouted as he squeezed Jongho close and left comforting kisses across his neck.
Hongjoong watched them through heavy eyes, feeling a tug in his chest that was sticky and painful, horribly unfamiliar beneath his skin.
"It's going to be okay, Hongjoong. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it." Wooyoung said, somewhere, sounding close but too far to touch.
Usually Hongjoong would be grateful for the space when his anxiety was at its worst, too breathless to even speak, but he glanced down at the picture with furious eyes and suddenly his knees were giving out beneath him, arms flailing out in search of stability.
He would have toppled to the ground if Wooyoung hadn't been there to catch him at the last second, pulling him up and into an embrace that Hongjoong wasn't sure was meant to crush him or piece him back together.
Either way, he wanted to drown in it more than anything.
Hongjoong's body melted willingly, growing completely languid in the arms around him.
Wooyoung groaned sharp against his ear.
"Hyung- shit, just- oh god please stand up-"
His grip slipped and Wooyoung let out an anxious curse even before Hongjoong fell hard onto the bone of his knees, shoulders collapsing around him.
Hongjoong turned away from each pair of hands that reached out for him, chest rippling with an ache that felt beyond sickening.
He made the mistake of letting a sound escape him, a wheezing, groaning, throbbing hitch in his throat that made his eyes swell instantly, and Wooyoung was there again like he always was, grabbing at Hongjoong's shoulder to steady him when in reality the touch shattered him whole.
"I'm gonna lose him, Wooyoung. I'm gonna lose him and you told me I wouldn't!" He shoved at a chest he couldn't see, crashing against hard muscle.
Hands clamped around his wrists and Hongjoong fought them off, chest exploding like a caged animal refusing death.
"You told me everything would be fine and you lied- you're a liar! They're gonna take him away from me, they'll fucking ruin us-"
The hands disappeared, the warmth vanished, and Hongjoong cried out at the loss of them, heart yearning even as his body slumped in relief.
"Then don't let them." Wooyoung demanded, his voice pressed against Hongjoong's hairline, and it took an unreasonably long time for Hongjoong to figure out that the younger was hugging him.
Took even longer for Hongjoong to find the strength in his arms to hug him back, hands flattening over his shoulder blades.
"Don't let them speculate, don't let them assume. Don't let them look at that picture and assume the worst- just fucking show them and let yourselves be happy, hyung."
Hongjoong pulled him closer, burrowing himself into Wooyoung's neck to make himself smaller, and it occurred to Hongjoong that he wasn't used to being this close to Wooyoung, ever.
The others were affectionate by default, tugging at Hongjoong's arms to cuddle the night before performances, pawing at his feet beneath the covers just to piss him off, but Hongjoong was never Wooyoung's first choice for a snuggle buddy, and being this close to him while his heart was oozing out of his chest made him feel painfully young.
Made him feel like he was fresh out of high school again, bangs long and skin oily, rapping underneath stage lights that were close enough to make him sweat through his ripped jeans, pockets heavy with a weeks worth of change he had to save just to afford his next meal.
It made him feel like he did before they debuted.
Small and miserable, but taken care of.
Protected in a way that he never was back in Anyang.
"You can't seriously be saying we're still planning on releasing San's solo." Seonghwa laughed incredulously, chin resting on top of Jongho's head, but the sound was drained of amusement and his sparkling eyes were narrowed with disapproval.
Jongho tensed against him, lips pulling into a frown as Yeosang shared a wavering glance with Yunho and Mingi.
Wooyoung sighed.
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
"Are you sure, hyung?" Jongho asked, prepared to drop everything and follow Wooyoung blindly.
"Look at this."
Hongjoong pulled away as the others closed in around the two of them, focused on Wooyoung as he took Mingi's phone and held up the picture for all of them to see.
Yunho's forehead creased with worry, and Yeosang let out an insuppressible gasp that made nausea swirl in Hongjoong's gut.
Unless told, there was no way for anyone to tell what two men were in the photo.
Hongjoong was sure of it, and even if he wasn't he had to be, for his own sake.
There was nothing tangible that could make people trace the photo back to either him or San, but that didn't make it any less terrifying.
Or any less traumatizing, because even if the world didn't know it was them, people still had plenty to say.
"You can't see shit. Not really. There's people speculating it's from our group, but even then nobody can tell for sure. Some are thinking we went to a gay bar or some club, a late birthday celebration maybe, but others don't even believe it's Hongjoong at all. This is exactly what we needed."
"Huh?" Seonghwa gaped.
Wooyoung huffed, exasperated as he reached forward and clamped the eldests mouth shut, teeth clacking together.
"We're seeing reactions before they've even made the announcement. That puts us ahead on what to expect." He turned to Hongjoong, blinking wide and expectant with a question waiting on his tongue, and Hongjoong wasn't sure if he could take what he knew was coming next.
"Hyung, I know you think this is all bad, but there are so many good responses too-"
Hongjoong slapped the phone away the second Wooyoung tried to show him, eyes burning bright and violent where he stared up through his bangs to watch the way Wooyoung's expression softened.
"Our own fucking country isn't even on our side in this. How good can they possibly be?" He spat, refusing to meet Jongho's eyes that were peering down at him from over Wooyoung's shoulder.
Jongho slowly reached out and grabbed the phone that had been tossed across the floor, nose wrinkled.
"Hyung..." Wooyoung breathed out, appearing so warm and understanding that Hongjoong wanted to just give in and trust him like he always had.
Like he learned to do, but the fear was still there, thrumming against his lungs, and his eyes were enormous as he watched the younger step closer.
"How many times have we talked about this?"
"I think you should leave him alone." Yeosang grumbled, voice distant, and when the members turned around to look for the voice behind them, the tanned boy was scowling at Wooyoung with sharp eyebrows, arms crossed.
"This isn't your place, hyung."
"Yeo." Jongho muttered, lips parted in shock.
He reached for the boy's hand, urging him to sit down, but anger on Yeosang was always something ugly, fueling off of him in silent waves capable of choking anyone nearby.
He gently pried off Jongho's fingers, jaw clenching around a prodding tongue.
"I mean it. You can't ask this of him."
"I agree with Yeosang-ah." Yunho stepped forward suddenly, olive skin unnaturally pale.
"This...this doesn't feel right."
Hongjoong shook his head, temples straining as the tension in the room doubled, sensing an oncoming argument that he knew wouldn't settle the conflict that was unraveling in his chest, shredding apart his insides.
It was never a good sign when Yeosang and Wooyoung started to argue.
It sounded unnatural hearing Yeosang speak so strongly, blatantly disagreeing with the man he clung to exceptionally often, seeking him out for nature explorations and tours through art museums.
Yeosang and Wooyoung never argued.
Hongjoong could feel Wooyoung's mind screech to a stop in front of him, ears flaming red at being called out by the member he least expected.
"Hongjoong." He cupped the back of his neck, fingers curling into his hair, and Hongjoong found himself holding on desperately, waiting for the right words that would make the bad go away.
Make whatever hesitance he felt snap and disappear, because if Wooyoung was good at anything, it was bringing people back from the edge with the tone of his voice alone.
"I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to. I mean, fuck- you know that right? That I would never do that to you?"
The last breath, the last hope.
A burning memory.
The night when Hongjoong couldn't stop crying, couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop being in love, couldn't stop- and Wooyoung had been there.
Among street lights and moonbeams with the shadowed plains of their fingers shaking in front of the vans heaters.
When Hongjoong had asked for help, a reason not to, something that would keep him from giving in, and all Wooyoung had been willing to do was shake his head.
I can't do that to you.
"I should've never told you about San." Hongjoong confessed, heart breaking silently, brilliantly, painfully in the center of his chest, and he wished Wooyoung didn't look like that.
So confused and hurt.
"I should've never breathed a word of any of it. I should've kept my fucking mouth shut like I had my whole life-"
"No. Stop- hyung, look at me." Hongjoong hadn't even realized he had dropped his head, eyes brimming with tears, but Wooyoung was lifting him up by the chin now, his own eyes wet, and Hongjoong wanted to believe so badly.
"You did not work this hard just for you to have to lock yourself away. All those hours in the studio, the sleepless nights, the fucking secrets- hyung, we're strong enough now. We can take this hit, good or bad. You just have to trust us to be there for you and San, no matter which outcome."
Hongjoong didn't deserve this.
The trust tethered between them, the friendship he could feel clogging his veins, choking his lungs, squeezing his throat.
His heart was so full and it hurt, looking up and meeting the eyes of five other boys who loved him more than anything hurt.
Jongho was crying again, pawing at his eyes with sleeve covered hands, and Hongjoong wanted to smile at him.
Tell him everything was going to be okay, because he could.
He could do that now.
But Yunho was wrapping an arm around him before he could get there, giving the youngest a smile of his own, and Hongjoong knew it was enough.
The way Yeosang was chewing at his lips and locking hands with Seonghwa from where they hovered over Wooyoung's shoulder, it was enough.
"Why are you doing this?" Hongjoong asked, because he had to.
Because he couldn't make it make sense, and Wooyoung's dimpled smile was almost enough to piece it together.
"We can't hide our true selves and expect to send our fans an honest message about loving themselves. It's just not possible." His smile was a little sad, a little nervous, but still beautiful enough to make Hongjoong nod instinctively.
"Isn't that what this album trilogy's about? The entire reason that we're here right now?"
Youth.
Love.
Acceptance.
The eight of them would have never found any of it without their fans.
The fans were the ones who made it real, made their music more than music, more than eight boys from Korea pouring their hearts out into a studio booth or a dance floor.
Their fans made it into hope and laughter and light.
They made Mingi feel seen and Yunho feel cherished, made Yeosang feel cute, they helped Jongho get over his deathly stage fright and made Wooyoung feel confident enough to smile more.
They gave San a reason to live and Seonghwa a reason to laugh and led Hongjoong to the one person he needed more than he ever thought possible- and Hongjoong loved them.
Loved every single one of them.
For caring, for giving a shit about someone like Hongjoong, and maybe it was illogical to think he could have both.
Have fans who adored him and a boy who loved him, but god did he want to try.
He wanted to try so badly, wanted to show that he could so that they could.
Hongjoong raised his hand, slowly, watching with amusement as Wooyoung's eyes followed closely, and knocked against the younger's forehead with his knuckles.
Wooyoung flinched, browns knitting together.
It made Hongjoong smile, and the rest of the room was left staring in amazement.
"Sometimes I worry if this thing is a little too big." Hongjoong mumbled, pulling away before he could witness Wooyoung's entire face contort with confusion.
Jongho broke out into a warm fit of giggles almost immediately, hands flying up to cover his ears as he hid behind Seonghwa.
Yunho smiled at him, humored, but Yeosang couldn't help but stare with leveled eyes, a disbelieving laugh launching out of him.
"Dude, get your mind out of the gutter." He complained, but his hands were gentle when they pushed teasingly at Jongho's shoulders, unintentionally starting up a wrestling match that had them both screeching in an instant.
Hongjoong stood up before he could get trampled by them.
"I need to go find San. We should talk first before...deciding." He explained, but he knew what his job was now and that was to convince San.
Wooyoung nodded eagerly, and patted Hongjoong's chest in silent encouragement.
"Of course. Whatever you need."
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When searching, Hongjoong wasn't surprised to find San's own bed empty and cold to the touch, sheets wrinkled and drawn back whereas Yunho's were freshly washed and patted down, tucked into the corners neatly.
Hongjoong smiled at the difference and walked back out quietly, always surprised to learn just how organized Yunho could be when he tried.
Hongjoong checked Yeosang and Wooyoung's room next, feeling almost certain that he'd find the blond rolling around in the younger's silk sheets, cheek pressed against his mountain of stuffed animals, but the blinds were drawn and the beds were made, showing no signs of San.
He stood in the doorway for a moment, thinking, assessing, before pushing his way down the hall and taking a deep breath against the front of his and Seonghwa's bedroom door, hand shaking as he twisted the knob.
"Sannie?" He spoke through the door, head poking inside as though this wasn't his own room and he had no right to be there.
The room was quiet apart from the air drafting through the vent or the occasional voice hovering in from the living room.
Hongjoong stepped in and passed the towering bookshelf that divided the two roommates, splitting apart Seonghwa's white interior and plush toys from Hongjoong's dark wooden chest and cd racks.
He glanced at Seonghwa's bed on instinct, not really knowing what to expect, but found that his thoughts were proven gloriously wrong when he heard a body rustle beneath his own cotton sheets, hands reaching out into the dark.
"Hongjoong." The boy whispered, the sound drawing back like a whine as he grabbed the elder's wrist once he was close enough, and Hongjoong felt his heart rupture at the sight of him.
"I'm here, baby. Everything's okay." He told San, leaning down blindly to kiss him on the forehead, but San straightened up at the last second and suddenly their lips were melded, exchanging deep and flavorful kisses that made heat flare up Hongjoong's skin.
The younger still smelled like the bar, hair tinted with a lingering coat of smoke, skin flushed with dried sweat, and Hongjoong could taste vodka on his tongue, the very thing that fucked them over in the first place.
They should stop.
He should pull away.
San whimpered the moment Hongjoong's mouth left his, hands delving into his hair to pull him back in, and Hongjoong grimaced even as he let himself fall back into the easiness that was San.
The softness of his lips and the pressure of his hands, basking in the comfort that laced through his chest whenever San thumbed over the swell of his cheekbones, holding him close just to breathe him in.
It was hard to say no when San was like this.
Almost impossible to pull away from something he'd wanted for so long, each time harder than the last.
An inch between them felt like miles for Hongjoong, their chests tethered by a string that kept them sewn together but punctured at heart, becoming tangled when others were near, strained and thin when separated.
It was times like this when the lines were blurred.
When Hongjoong had to remember that the cameras were gone, and the chaos was quiet, and it was okay to touch.
It was okay to retrain his hands to slip around the younger's waist in the morning, when his back was turned and his eyes were swollen and he barely had enough energy to lace his hand with Hongjoong's on his stomach, mouth foaming with toothpaste.
He had to remember that the world wouldn't end if he gave San more attention than he did the other members, or if he woke up to the younger biting hickies into the softness of his stomach where no one could see.
It was okay to be themselves.
And that's what made it hard to resist the way San kissed him, slow and full at first, hot and dizzying in an instant.
His hands were wandering, soft little noises spilling past his lips every time he got a chance to breathe, and Hongjoong couldn't stop himself from being pulled in by a nail biting grip at his hip, body falling forward until he was hovering over San by his forearms.
The boy opened his legs to let Hongjoong fall against him, fit effortlessly between his thighs, and Hongjoong was surprised to find a groan punch out of him the moment they collided, hips crashing as their tongues met.
San clutched at Hongjoong's back, fingers brushing up beneath his shirt, drawing him closer still, and when he finally released Hongjoong's bottom lip so that he could latch himself to the elder's neck, teeth scraping against the underside of his jaw, Hongjoong finally had to wade through the haziness to curl a hand around the boy's wrist.
"Hey, no. We can't." He whispered, serious, but his voice was raspy and bathed in darkness, and it only made the younger giggle underneath him.
San went to pull off Hongjoong's shirt, hands dashing out across his chest, and the elder hurriedly pulled the material back down.
"San- stop."
"You're not gonna lose me." He said, a tremble against Hongjoong's lips that the elder couldn't help but lean into.
San kissed him, hand traveling through his hair, before pulling away to press his forehead to Hongjoong's with an anxious sigh.
"You're not. Ever."
Hongjoong felt his heart ache when the boy's eyelashes fluttered across his cheek, breath ghosting over his lips.
San began peppering the elder in kisses when the silence continued, nuzzling into his hair, rubbing soothingly at his shoulders, and Hongjoong wanted to fucking cry, because San knew.
Knew that Hongjoong had been just as scared as him.
"You heard?"
San nodded, soft and subtle like he didn't want to startle him.
"I just wanted you to know that."
"I know." Hongjoong answered easily, because even though it might have taken years to accept, Hongjoong knew that San loved him.
He knew that San wouldn't leave, not after everything.
But that didn't mean things couldn't change.
That didn't mean they were safe.
"You do?" San questioned, lifting an eyebrow, and Hongjoong couldn't stop smiling as he leaned forward for more kisses, barely letting San breathe as he struggled through his words.
"I thought... this might... be a good... way- Hongjoong stop." He laughed incredulously, pushing Hongjoong away by a hand to the face, and the elder rolled onto his back dramatically, pouting.
"I like kissing you." Hongjoong said simply, and San was back on him in a second, smiling in the darkness.
He was shirtless, bare chest catching the slightest stretch of moonlight from the window on Seonghwa's side of the room.
He was also wearing the most ridiculous pair of pajama pants that Hongjoong could recall being a present from Yeosang, the fabric decorated in tiny ice cream sandwiches and various sushi rolls.
Hongjoong ran his hands over the material, smiling brightly when it made San's thighs jump beneath his fingers.
"I thought this might be a good way to make sure you know." He finally finished, grinning in triumph, and Hongjoong felt terrible when he had to once again pull away from the hands that trailed down his stomach.
"Now's not the best time." He muttered, frowning, and San leaned back on his heels with a tug of annoyance on his features.
"Why? Because we need to talk?" San groaned, hiding his face into Hongjoong's chest.
"I don't want to talk-"
"Fine, then just listen to me." He ran a hand through the younger's hair, coaxing him to relax.
"The plan hasn't changed. The release is still set for September."
San's body tensed automatically, bones turning rigid and heavy beneath his skin.
He pulled away before Hongjoong could even think of what to do, crawling back to the top of the bed where he refused to stare anywhere but his feet.
"Is that what Wooyoung or Seonghwa convinced you was best?"
Hongjoong winced, eyes softening as he tried to reach out.
"San..."
The boy ignored the hand that fell on his knee, moving away with an anger that made Hongjoong retract immediately.
San's anger was always silent, boiling inside of him in a way that made his expression melt and freeze over into a look that you couldn't help but feel weary of.
He rolled his jaw, tugging vehemently at his hair.
"After what just happened, you still want to announce to the world that we're fucking? That we're gay? What the hell is wrong with you?" He demanded, sounding aghast, and Hongjoong wished desperately that he could sink into himself and disappear as he watched San get up and stalk across the room.
He headed straight for the door, violently snatching up a shirt on the way out, and Hongjoong was only able to reach him in time by throwing himself forward and tugging San back with both arms wrapped around his chest, the two of them colliding together against the door.
"Hongjoong!" San cried out, sinking into the door, and suddenly there were tears building all too quickly for Hongjoong to register and it took everything in him not to just run away from it all, the rising dread in his gut and pressure in his lungs.
"This is bigger than us now." He spoke, shaking so prominently that he was surprised San didn't notice.
Hongjoong wished he could take it all back.
Start over and never leave the bed and the warmth and the feeling of San's skin on his; never pull away from the hands that ignited a fire in his chest, from the body that blushed and moaned so prettily beneath him.
He just wanted the room to stop spinning, for San to stop crying long enough to kiss him and hold him and know better than to let go this time.
"It was always bigger than just us, Hongjoong. That's what made it so hard." San whispered brokenly, head rolling back against the door.
"What happened to us doing it so that we could be happy? What happened to wanting to be ourselves?"
"Nothing."
Hongjoong's hands were trembling as they rose up to cup San's face, uncertain of where to settle, thumbs dashing across his chin, along his jaw, holding him close enough to see the tears in his eyes clearly, bright and painful.
"Nothing changed, San. That's still a reason why just- there's more now. Imagine what this could do for us, what it could mean for the industry. Do you realize how many idols this could impact? How many fans will look at us and think I'm not alone? Isn't that what we do? Why we write music? San, this could be so much more than an announcement. This could start a movement."
Hongjoong watched something pass over San's eyes, an indescribable breakage shining through, and then the boy was sobbing hysterically into the drilling silence, sucking in dry heaving breaths that he turned into Hongjoong's palms to conceal, and the elder was reaching out to him without the slightest thought, guiding San into his chest with a hand in his hair.
Hongjoong wished he could say this wasn't familiar.
That he wasn't used to feeling San's frail body shake against him, the wet press of tears on his shoulder, the absolute agony in his chest, but loving San had never been an easy task, and it had come with plenty of this over the last few years.
More tears than they could count.
"I never wanted it to be a movement, Hongjoong. I never wanted any of this." He whispered against Hongjoong's ear, nails raking down the small of his back.
"I just wanted you."
"You have me." Hongjoong assured, eyes wide and deathly serious as they sought out San's, hand tilting up his chin just to feel the warmth of him, to watch the way the younger caved into the touch and kissed gently at his palm, hand wrapping around his wrist.
"Baby, you have me."
He pressed Hongjoong's hand to his face again, closing his eyes with a twist of pain.
"Is that not enough?"
Hongjoong was shaking his head before he could even gather his thoughts, frantic and reckless and desperate, because San wasn't thinking clearly and this was never something they were meant to discuss again.
They had made up their minds, hadn't they?
They had made the choice to be free, to not love each other because no one else knew- but to love each other despite everyone knowing, because fuck everybody else.
Hongjoong certainly didn't need anyone but San.
"You're forgetting," He swallowed harshly, vision swaying as he tried to find whatever sense he could still offer.
"You're scared and upset and you're forgetting what it's like. You have to remember, please."
"Remember what?"
Hongjoong felt another tear join the rest, rolling down from San's eye where it seeped into Hongjoong's hand that was still cradling the boy's cheek.
It lingered, warm and cool at the same time, and Hongjoong didn't move to smear it away or wipe it clean, instead keeping it as a reminder.
As another feeling that shouldn't be familiar but was.
"What it's like to be us."