Archive of Our Own ^beta

Byounggon, his cheeks red from the cold, says, voice barely above a whisper, “I wrote you a song.”

Seunghun almost doesn’t hear him. It’s windy on the company building rooftop, and Byounggon’s sentence almost gets lost under the loud whistling of an upcoming winter storm.

Almost.

Because his ears are trained to hear Byounggon’s voice whenever and wherever, through years of paying close attention to the smallest sounds that leave Byounggon’s lips, because his brain is automatically attuned to everything Byounggon does, Seunghun does hear him. And the words send his heart racing, excitement and joy bringing a smile to his face.

“Really, hyung?” he asks, a little too loud. Byounggon winces, then nods and ducks his head, shy. Seunghun tugs on his hand. “Show it to me, show it to me!”

Byounggon looks down at their joined hands, then at Seunghun again. His cheeks are even redder, the blush dark and pretty, but his eyes are determined, serious, fiery. Seunghun feels a shiver travel through his body under Byounggon’s gaze.

“Okay,” Byounggon nods. “I’ll show it to you.”

They take the stairs down to Byounggon’s small studio. They hold hands all the way there, Byounggon’s grip strong, almost too strong, like he’s holding onto Seunghun for dear life.

Seunghun doesn’t really get it. He’s heard Byounggon’s songs before, ones he had just started or finished or was half-way there, and he thought they all sounded great. Byounggon is great, really, talented and hard-working and handsome and funny. Seunghun is sure the song is going to be amazing.

But still it’s Byounggon, who gets shy and insecure about the silliest things. Like how he once told Seunghun he doesn’t really like wearing shorts because his knees are ugly, and Seunghun spent half an hour telling him not only his knees, but everything about his body was great, leaving Byounggon a blushing, stuttering mess.

He’s not stuttering now, but his hand does shake in Seunghun’s as they sit on the chairs in front of the computer. Byounggon opens a mp3 file titled to_you. He hesitates before hitting play, his breathing heavy and eyes unfocused.

“Hyung,” Seunghun says, gentle. He gives Byounggon’s hand a squeeze. “Byoungonnie-hyung, it’s okay.”

Byounggon looks at him, his gaze full of— something. Something fierce again, sharp. But then it softens, and his face lights up with a small smile.

“Okay,” he says, and hits play.

It starts with a guitar, soft and sweet. Seunghun wonders if Byounggon’s played the instrument himself, because he’s been learning for a few months now and he’s getting really good. After a few seconds the beat kicks in, still nice and slow, still sweet, but then the lyrics come, and Seunghun thinks he stops breathing for a second or thirty.

It’s a love song. And, okay, most of Byounggon’s lyrics are about meeting a hypothetical someone, or wanting to be by somebody’s side, or please say yes, girl, but this one sounds… different. Real, almost.

To you, who has been on my mind all day and all night
I ask this question with my trembling heart
Can you love me as I love you?
Is this real?

It’s over after a couple of minutes. Seunghun sits still for another minute, processing what he’s just heard. He can feel Byounggon’s eyes on him, can feel his restless energy, his sweaty palms, and he knows he’s waiting for Seunghun to say something, anything.

But the thing is, if the lyrics are real, then Byounggon is in love. And if he’s in love, then, well.

Seunghun feels like crying, but he forces a smile onto his face instead.

“This is amazing, hyung!” he tells Byounggon, as genuine as he can. It’s true, the song is great, just like he knew it would be. The fact that it breaks Seunghun’s heart has nothing to do with it.

Byounggon smiles at him, tentative. “Yeah?” he asks, quiet.

“Yeah! I can’t wait to sing it!”

Seunghun swings their hands that are still clasped together in the space between them. Byounggon frowns, tilting his head to the side.

“Sing it?”

“Of course,” Seunghun nods enthusiastically. Maybe a little too enthusiastically. “You wrote it for me to sing, right?”

“You think I wrote this song for you... to sing?” Byounggon sounds genuinely confused, which makes Seunghun frown too.

“Of course,” he says. “Why else would you write me a love song?”

Byounggon stares at him for a long moment, his face blank. Then he sighs, and his shoulders hunch forward like he’s been defeated. “Or course,” he echoes. “Right, yeah, it’s for you to sing.”

“I’m excited!” And Seunghun tries to sound excited, too. “My first solo song! How’d you want me to sing it, hyung?”

Byounggon grimaces. He looks about as happy as Seunghun feels, which is not very much at all.

*

It’s a weird week after that. Seunghun tries to pretend he’s okay, that the love of his life didn’t just announce he’s in love with someone else (who is it?), and it’s really hard for a couple of days. He feels like crying whenever he looks at Byounggon and whenever he listens to the song, but also, the more he thinks about it, the more things don’t make sense.

First, why did Byounggon want him to sing the song? Seunghun is the better vocalist out of the two of them, that’s true, but Byounggon’s voice is lovely, just like everything else about him, and wouldn’t it be better for him to sing his love confession himself? And when Seunghun approaches him after memorizing the lyrics, saying “I’m ready to record, hyung”, Byounggon just gives him a tight smile and retorts with “Let’s do it later, Seunghun-ah”, again and again, like he doesn’t actually want him to sing the song at all.

For a wild second, when Seunghun is brooding alone in the practice room, he thinks Byounggon is just being cruel. That he knows about Seunghun’s crush on him, is disgusted by it, and just wanted to rub his love for someone else on Seunghun’s face to make him suffer. But Seunghun knows him. Byounggon isn’t like that at all, and he would never intentionally hurt Seunghun, even if he doesn’t love him back.

But then again, maybe Seunghun doesn’t know him as well as he’d like to think he does. Because, and that’s the second thing that doesn’t make sense:

Byounggon has been avoiding him.

A pretty difficult feat, considering they’re just a couple of weeks away from starting comeback preparations. They’re meeting with their creative team all the time, they practice dance covers together, they have Japanese lessons with the members, they go to the gym, they’re roommates. There’s barely a meter between their beds, but still Byounggon barely talks to him, barely looks at him. Seunghun hasn’t held Byounggon’s hand in a week, and he’s honestly going a little crazy with it.

It gets so bad that Hyunsuk, who has been filming a drama and has spent maybe five hours together with them this week, total, looks at Seunghun one morning and asks “What’s going on between you and Byounggon-hyung?”

Seunghun groans. His phone tells him it’s 5AM, which is entirely too early for this conversation. Or any conversation, really.

“Nothing’s going on,” he says, trying to keep his voice as level as possible.

It doesn’t really work, or Hyunsuk knows him too well, because he scoffs and says, “You’re not hanging off of each other like you usually do. Something’s definitely going on.”

Seunghun sighs. Hyunsuk is right; they’ve been really distant lately, and Seunghun misses Byounggon. Byounggon has taken to hanging out with Jinyoung a lot now, even sleeping in his bedroom for a couple of nights this week, which also makes Seunghun jealous. He feels pathetic.

“Hyung wrote me a song,” he tells Hyunsuk. It’s been driving him crazy to keep this all bottled up, so maybe he’ll feel better if he shares it with someone. Hyunsuk is a good listener, caring and responsible, and he’s asking, so.

Hyunsuk frowns. He finishes chewing a mouthful of the bibimbap Seunghun put together from their leftover rice and vegetables before speaking. He’d been feeling antsy, in the same room as Byounggon after who knows how many days, but unable to sleep. Byounggon wasn’t sleeping either, Seunghun knew, because he wasn’t snoring. But he had his back to Seunghun, a clear sign he didn’t want to talk, so Seunghun decided to get up at 4AM and make himself useful by cooking for Hyunsuk, who would certainly come back hungry from his late night filming.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“A love song,” Seunghun clarifies.

“That’s great, hyung!” Hyunsuk beams at him, then frowns again when Seunghun makes a face. “Isn’t it great…?”

“It would be if he’d written it for me,” Seunghun whines. “But he wrote it for somebody else.”

Hyunsuk’s brows furrow so deep Seunghun is afraid he’s going to give himself a headache. He looks genuinely confused, more confused than Seunghun’s seen in all the years he’s known him.

“I don’t understand,” he says.

“Me neither,” Seunghun sighs. “Why does he want me to sing a love song he wrote for someone else!”

Hyunsuk looks even more confused, if that’s even possible. “Did he tell you it was for someone else?”

“Not really.”

“What did he say, exactly?”

“He said ‘I wrote you a song’.”

Hyunsuk tilts his head to the side. His frown’s not that deep anymore. “Just that? He never mentioned someone else?”

“Just that,” Seunghun nods. “But I know what he meant. I just don’t get it.”

Hyunsuk gives him a look, incredulous and a little annoyed, like he thinks Seunghun is really dumb. Seunghun is offended.

“You know what, I would laugh at you, but I’m too tired to do that,” he says. He gets up and gathers the dishes while Seunghun gapes at him. “Also, it’s kinda sad.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seunghun frowns.

“Don’t worry, hyung,” Hyunsuk has the balls to pat his shoulder on his way to the sink, all patronizing. What a brat. “I’ll fix it for you.”

Somehow, Seunghun seriously doubts that.

*

After another week of Byounggon basically pretending Seunghun doesn’t exist, Seunghun is ready to lose his mind.

He’s exhausted, recording new songs late into the night and practicing choreography for their title song, and all he wants to do when he gets home is cuddle Byounggon to sleep, but he can’t, because Byounggon has practically moved to Jinyoung’s room at this point. Also, Jinyoung has been glaring at him a lot, giving him the stinky eye whenever they cross paths. That one he doesn’t get at all.

Hyunsuk has been telling him everything is going to be okay. Even their manager has taken Seunghun aside and kindly asked him to fix whatever’s wrong with him and Byounggon, because news of their weird vibes has now reached the CEO.

Which, great. Just great.

It’s not like Seunghun isn’t trying. He’s texted Byounggon countless times, gone to his studio on breaks, even tried to corner him in the bathroom at the dorm. But either Jinyoung is always around or Byounggon manages to escape and doesn’t talk to Seunghun at all.

Seunghun is grasping at straws here.

When he’s completely out of ideas on how to get Byounggon to talk to him, after he cries ugly, fat tears for twenty minutes because he’s losing his best friend and he doesn’t even know why, he decides it’s time for desperate measures.

And that’s how Yonghee finds him one hour later, the night before they’re supposed to shoot their MV, sitting on the floor of an empty practice room with the lyrics of To You in front of him.

“What are you doing, hyung?” Yonghee asks. Then he tilts his head to look at the piece of paper in front of Seunghun on the floor. “Is that the song Byounggon-hyung wrote you?”

Seunghun blinks at him. “How do you know about that?”

“Hyunsuk told me,” Yonghee says. He sits next to Seunghun, their knees knocking together. “He told me he was too busy, so I should help you. Like I’m not busy, too.”

Yonghee rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, fond.

Seunghun sighs. Hyunsuk did say he was going to fix it for him, and sending Yonghee might not be a bad idea at all.

“I’m trying to figure out who this song is about,” he tells Yonghee.

“Why?” Yonghee asks, incredulous.

Seunghun gets it. He also thinks it’s stupid and will only lead to heartbreak, his heartbreak, but it was the only thing he could come up with.

“Maybe if I figure out who it is and help them get together,” he says, his voice small. “Then he’ll be grateful to me and will stop ignoring me.”

Yonghee gives him a look very similar to the one Hyunsuk gave him a week ago, like Seunghun’s just said the stupidest thing he’s ever heard.

Rude.

But unlike Hyunsuk, Yonghee just sighs and picks up the paper on the floor.

“Okay, let’s go over it,” he says, as his eyes travel over the lyrics. “What have you got so far?”

“Nothing,” Seunghun shakes his head. It’s frustrating; he’s been at it for an hour, reading the lyrics again and again, and he’s come up with nothing, no one. No one but himself, but it isn’t him. It just isn’t.

“This part here,” he points to a line Seunghun’s underlined, that says We’ve been friends for six years now, hey. “Who has he been friends with for six years?”

“Lots of people,” Seunghun says, then proceeds to count on his fingers. “Jeon Woong, Choi Hyunsuk, Park Jihoon…”

“Okay, then this,” Yonghee’s finger taps a line with lots of ???? written in pencil next to it. It says Your voice rings in my ears all day and all night, our shared space is my home. “Who has a great voice and shares his space?”

“I don’t know,” Seunghun is this close to tearing out his own hair now. He had been agonizing over that line before Yonghee came, because it just doesn’t make sense. “Has he been meeting with people I don’t know?”

Yonghee actually looks pained now. He abandons the piece of paper back on the floor and groans, hiding his face behind his hands.

“This is impossible,” he mutters, then drops his hands and levels Seunghun with a serious, no-nonsense look. “Hyung, when someone says ‘I wrote you a song’, what do they usually mean?”

“That they wrote a song for you to sing,” Seunghun answers, sure of himself, like he’s getting the answer right on a test.

“Or,” Yonghee says. “They can also mean they wrote a song for you. About you.”

Seunghun blinks once. Twice. Three times. He looks at the lyrics on the paper, then at Yonghee, then at the lyrics again.

“I’m an idiot,” he says, after a few seconds, when his brain has finally caught up. “Oh my god, I got the answer wrong on the test.”

“What test?” Yonghee asks, confused.

Seunghun barely hears him. He’s up and out the door in an instant, mind and heart and legs racing.

Sometimes I think you can tell
So if you’re going to let me down, please do it gently
To you, who has been my one constant for years
I ask this question, but I don’t really know if I want to know
Can you love me as I love you?
Is this real?

*

“Yes!” Seunghun yells, as he bursts open the door of Byounggon’s studio. “The answer is yes!”

He watches as Byounggon and Jinyoung jump in their seats, turning around to look at him. He’s trying to catch his breath, but it’s difficult, especially when Byounggon is finally, finally looking at him, after two weeks of avoiding his gaze. Byounggon looks so thin and sad, his eyes red like he’s been crying, and surprised too, mouth hanging open in shock. Seunghun wants nothing more than to hold him and never let go.

Jinyoung looks at him sharply, then at Byounggon. He gets up from his chair, squeezes Byounggon’s shoulder and makes his way to the door.

“Finally,” he says, pushing past Seunghun and walking out of the studio. He slaps Seunghun’s butt, hard. “Be happy.”

Then he closes the door, and Seunghun is alone with Byounggon.

Seunghun quietly sits on the now vacant chair. Now that he’s here, in front of Byounggon, he doesn’t really know what to say. He takes a moment to just look at Byounggon, his delicate wrists and pretty hands and handsome face. He missed this face.

“What do you mean, the answer is yes?” Byounggon asks, his voice so quiet Seunghun almost doesn’t hear him.

Almost.

Because his ears are trained to hear Byounggon’s voice whenever and wherever, through years of paying close attention to the smallest sounds that leave Byounggon’s lips, because his brain is automatically attuned to everything Byounggon does, because he loves him, Seunghun does hear him.

“Yes, I can love you as much as you love me,” Seunghun whispers back. “I do. Yes, this is real, hyung.”

Byounggon’s voice is all wet. “You mean it? You’re not joking around?”

“Hyung, I would never play with your feelings like that,” Seunghun says, and his voice is all wet too, his eyes filling with tears. “I love you so much. I’ve been in love with you for years.”

“Me too, Seunghun-ah,” Byounggon says, then reaches for his hands. “Me too.”

They stay like that, holding hands and smiling at each other for a minute or two. Until Seunghun says, his face flushed, “I thought the song was about someone else.”

That startles a laugh out of Byounggon.

“Who else would it be about, Seunghun-ah?” he asks, an incredulous smile on his lips. “There’s no one else but you.”

Something warm swims in the pit of Seunghun’s stomach. He giggles, happier than he’s ever been.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “And, anyway, what was I supposed to think when you started avoiding me after showing me the song?”

“I thought you saying you wanted to sing it was your way of letting me down,” there’s a blush high on Byounggon’s cheek, embarrassed and shy. Cute. “I thought you knew the song was about you, but didn’t feel the same, so I thought maybe if I avoided you for a while, my feelings would go away.”

Seunghun shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“We both are.”

“That’s true,” Seunghun laughs.

Byounggon sighs. He squeezes Seunghun’s hand, gives him a nervous smile. “Now what?” he asks. “I already wrote half a song about being rejected by the love of my life.”

The love of my life. Seunghun feels giddy.

“Give it to EPEX,” he says.

“Aren’t they a little young for such heartbreak?” Byounggon frowns.

“Hyung,” Seunghun whines, pouting. “I don’t care. Just kiss me already.”

“Ah,” Byounggon’s face grows a darker red. His eyes drop to Seunghun’s lips. “Okay.”

When their lips connect, finally, Seunghun swears he hears a song in his head.

*

“I wrote you a song,” Seunghun says, a few months later, lying on top of his boyfriend in their bedroom.

“You did?” Byounggon asks. He smiles, surprised, and rubs circles on Seunghun’s back.

Seunghun nods. He wanted to do something for Byounggon, to give him a gift as special as the one he was given. He figured a song would do, so he even enlisted the help of Lee Daehwi to teach him the basics of song producing.

“A song for you. About you,” he clarifies.

Byounggon laughs. “Show it to me, then.”

So Seunghun does.