Archive of Our Own

Leo felt too much, or maybe he just couldn’t tell what he was supposed to feel anymore. He wore all these fake smiles like props, practiced in bathroom mirrors and for the cameras. Just muscle memory at this point. He knew exactly when to laugh, when to nod, how to tilt his eyes so he looked thoughtful and not just empty. Just act like you’re fine. That’s what he told himself. Being fine was what they expected from him. Fine meant nobody asked questions.

Tonight, sitting in the kitchen, pretending once again. Everyone was there—Jiahao, chewing lazily, minding his own business, Geonwoo talking nonstop with a silly smile, Anxin glued to his phone, only half-listening, Junseo lounged back in his chair, Sanghyeon waved his hands around as he talked, Xinlong laughed at the wrong parts just to keep the mood light. It was loud, but the kind of scene that should’ve felt like home.

Then there was Sangwon. He sat a few seats away, turned toward Geonwoo, eyes crinkling as he laughed, shoulders relaxed. Sangwon’s laugh was bright, like muscle memory that refused to fade. Geonwoo cracked another dumb joke, and Sangwon laughed brighter, leaning in with his hand brushing Geonwoo’s arm for a split second.

The fans would eat that up.

Leo already knew all clips, posts, slowed-down gifs. Fans speculating, connecting invisible dots, screaming every time Sangwon and Geonwoo stood too close or shared a glance that stayed for half a second longer than necessary. Trending hashtags and heart emojis. “Their chemistry is insane.” “Tell me I’m not just imagining this.” “Geonwoo is better for Sangwon than that person.”

He kept telling himself it didn’t matter. He should be happy, right? Sangwon was coming out of his shell, laughing more, finding his place, not just as a trainee, not just as a teammate, but as himself. That’s all Leo had ever wanted. For Sangwon to feel safe, to belong, to feel included.

So why did it hurt?

Why did his chest tighten every time Sangwon laughed with someone else? Why did his presence at that table feel like something Leo wasn’t allowed to touch anymore?

Maybe Sangwon would be happier with someone else.

The thought came out of nowhere, cruel reality. Maybe someone hotter, more simple, someone the fans could love publicly, no secrets, no hiding behind locked doors.

Was Leo even still dating Sangwon?

That question scared him more than he wanted to admit. They never broke up. There was never a conversation, never a dramatic ending, no harsh words, never tears or slammed doors. Life just got busy, practices ran late, schedules stacked up, exhaustion replaced all those late night talks and texts went unanswered, not because anyone was mad, just because they were tired.

And they were never official anyway. It just sort of happened, years ago. Their first late nights sneaking out for convenience store ramen. Their first matching things, the pants they pretended were coincidental, jacket exchanged and never returned. Their first kiss, awkward and clumsy, laughing into each other’s mouths because neither of them knew what they were doing. Their first fight, over nothing and everything, followed by silence that hurt worse than the argument itself. Their first I love you whispered like a secret that might shatter if said too loudly. That first night together, tangled up in sheets and promises neither dared to say out loud.

They wanted to be idols. They knew what that would cost. They knew it might mean never being real in the way other people could.

Leo just hadn’t expected this. Not this slow, quiet fading. This feeling that he was just a background extra in someone else’s story.

Anxin suddenly said something and Sangwon’s laugh cut through the noise, louder, brighter.

That was it. Leo got up without a word. Chairs scraped, voices overlapped, the room kept spinning without him. He slipped out, steps soft, disappearing into his room.

The room felt colder than the kitchen, the silence heavy as soon as the door closed behind him. He dropped onto his bed, eyes on the ceiling, breathing slowly like that might keep everything from breaking down.

But it didn’t help.

Leo still heard everything. Laugh muffled by the walls, plates clinking, someone calling out Sangwon’s name. It was impossible to miss. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched, he pressed his forearm over his eyes, like that could block out the noise, like it could keep the memories from flooding back.

He loved Sangwon. Always had.

But the worst part? It wasn’t jealousy, or fear, or even the fans screaming someone else’s name right next to his. No, it was this quiet, terrifying idea that maybe Sangwon was already moving on, without even noticing Leo was still stuck in the same place, right where he’d been left.

Leo opened his phone, sighing, a long, tired thing that felt more painful than it should. His thumb scrolled without thinking. Doomscrolling. He hated that word, hated how true it was. Just a minute, he told himself, just enough to numb the pain, to quiet his head so he could breathe properly for at least a second.

Twitter, or X, or whatever you wanna call it. Always a mistake, honestly.

He should get up, go back to the kitchen, sit across from Sangwon, look him in the eye and say something, anyhting. Talk, like they used to. But instead, he stayed where he was, laying on his back, room gray and dim, phone close to his face.

The first few posts were harmless, even cute. Anxin grinning so wide it looked like it hurt, Sangwon ruffling his hair. Leo couldn’t help but smile. They both adored Anxin. Everyone did. He was sunshine in human form, all fun and sincerity, the kind of kid you wanted to protect without even realizing it. Someone you could tease endlessly and still feel loved.

Then Leo tapped into the comments. And his smile faded.

People picked at everything. A hand on a shoulder, a glance, the way Sangwon leaned in when Anxin spoke. Screenshots with circles and arrows pointing at nothing, paragraphs analyzing intention behind every micro expression.

At first, it was almost funny. Absurd, really. How could strangers find so much meaning in moments that barely meant anything?

But Leo kept scrolling.

Clips of Sangwon filled the feed—smiling, laughing, eyes shining, face soft in a way the fans loved. He looked beautiful, not just handsome, but pretty in that devastating way that made people fall for him without even realizing it.

Then a fansign video appeared. Leo recognized it immediately. The background, the lighting, Sangwon’s outfit. His thumb hovered, then pressed full screen.

The fan’s voice was excited, trembling just a little. “What’s the most caring thing Leo has done for you that really stuck with you?”

Leo held his breath.

Sangwon hadn’t hesitated. Not even for a second.
“Sometimes,” he’d said, smiling softly, “Leo looks out for me without saying anything.”

He knows, he noticed. Sangwon remembered those moments, the ones no one else saw. Adjusting Sangwon’s mic pack before he even noticed it slipping. Leaving water bottles in his car after long schedules. Standing just close enough in crowded rooms to make sure Sangwon wasn’t overwhelmed.

Loving him without needing credit.

Leo scrolled again. Another edit, this one with questions for him.
“When did you think, ‘I can’t do this without Sangwon’?”
“Always.”

The video cut immediately to a question for Sangwon.
“Was there ever a moment when you felt like you wouldn’t be okay if Leo left you?”
Sangwon laughed softly, eyes dropping for half a second before he looked back up.
“Every time.”

Leo laughed too, quietly, the sound turning into something almost like a sob.

Damn, he loved him.

Their bond was still there. It has always been there. It wasn’t something fans could edit into clips or rip apart with theories. It was built from shared exhaustion, shared dreams, shared silence. From staying when it would’ve been easier to walk away.

Leo kept scrolling. Posts he thought were long gone kept popping up again. Headlines he’d hoped would disappear for good. The same old controversies, harsh words, mistakes he’d never be able to erase. The comments section was a mess, mostly with people doubting him.

And still, Sangwon was there. Always, somehow. Every time, every place, right there beside him. Sangwon had been the first one who believed in him, back when nobody else wanted to. When sticking by Leo made things harder, he never left.

Leo’s eyes burned. He loved him. He loved him so much it scared him. But he couldn’t let Sangwon to get involvedin his mistakes. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Loving someone meant you protected them, sometimes even from yourself. Sometimes that meant stepping away, even when it broke your own heart.

A sudden knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He didn’t want them to hear his voice like this. He didn’t want their pity or their questions.

Another knock followed with a quiet voice. “I love you Leo.”

Leo smiled weakly, eyes squeezing shut.

Then another voice, louder and teasing. “I love Leo!”

Of course it was them. Anxin and Xinlong. Leo really loved these two. They made this place feel like home, even when nothing else did. And yet… he stayed still. Didn’t move, didn’t open the door, didn’t say goodbye.

After a while, their footsteps faded down the hall.

He stared at the door, heart beating slow and uneven, waiting. All he could think about was Sangwon. Would he knock, too? Or did he just left?

The voices outside his room faded away one by one, doors opening and closing, the dorm slowly settling into that fragile, late night quiet mood that only existed when everyone was too tired to pretend anymore. Leo lay on his back, phone pressed to his chest, screen gone black, thoughts still far too loud.

He stopped, stuck somewhere between I should text him and I have to talk to him, not avoid him. Between the comfort of keeping his distance and the fear of telling the truth.

In his dream, he thought he would see Sangwon again. He always did. In dreams, Sangwon was always smiling, untouched by fear or schedules or consequences. In dreams, Leo could hold his hand without thinking.

But not this time. This time, there was only darkness that washed out into light way too fast.

Morning, if you could call it that, slammed into him. Not sunlight, just alarms, people talking and the pain in his bones and muscles that came from not sleeping enough for too long. It felt like the night was only pretending to be morning.

Another day that didn’t belong to them, just schedule after schedule.

The thoughts stacked up in his mind as he climbed into the van with the others. He took his spot by the window, head pressed to the glass, watching the city smear by. It felt like he was drifting through his own life, just filling a seat. Closing his eyes, trying to find his lost peace.

Sangwon was somewhere behind him, but Leo didn’t dare turn around. He didn’t trust himself to.

What if he slipped up? What if he kissed him and the staff saw? What if someone noticed the way Sangwon leaned in, or how Leo’s hand stayed for too long? What if someone started talking? What if rumours started? What if the company found out? What if the fans blamed Sangwon instead, or decided Leo was the problem? What if they didn’t care enough about Leo to forgive him just for existing in Sangwon’s life?

What if Sangwon got hurt because of him?

Leo dug his nails into his palm, twisting the fabric of his hoodie. He wanted to hold Sangwon’s hand so badly it hurt. Just once, just to feel steady again, to remember that I’m here didn’t always need words.

~

“Hyung?”

Sanghyeon leaned over with a small, crumpled bag and a sleepy grin. They were parked in front of the dorm. He hadn’t even noticed the ride was over.

“Dubai chewy chocolate? I saved you one.”

Leo stared at it, then shook his head. “No, it’s okay.”

They all stepped out of the car, the late night air cool and quiet, the world already half-asleep. Someone stretched, someone yawned, someone complained about their feet.

Leo stayed quiet. He walked inside without a word, head down, just moving because that’s what his body knew to do. He didn’t look over his shoulder, didn’t pause, didn’t dare. If he did, he’d probably fall apart right there in the hallway.

His room greeted him with silence. He closed the door, leaned back against it, let his eyes fall shut, breathing uneven. He was exhausted. Not just tired, drained. He felt empty, but somehow too much.

All he wanted, pathetic as it sounded, was to curl up with Sangwon again, the way they used to. Just the two of them, crammed in that tiny apartment, squeezed onto a bed that barely fit both of them. Back when it was just the two of them, legs tangled, breaths syncing in the dark. Back when Sangwon would tug him closer, press a kiss to his hair, and laugh softly.

“You’re cute,” Sangwon would say, teasing, but like he meant it with his whole heart.

Leo dropped onto his bed, face first into the pillow. He wished Sangwon would say it again. Just once.

His phone buzzed, notifications slicing through the quiet. Their group chat…

junseo:
should we go eat out?

long:
yeahhh!

runo:
I’m starving!

Leo stared at the messages longer than necessary, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Just thinking about getting up, about restaurants and lights and pretending to laugh, made him want to sink deeper into the bed. He typed fast, before he could start feeling guilty.

I’ll skip
you guys go eat a lot

A few replies came in immediately, sad emojis, teasing complaints, promises to bring leftovers, but Leo didn’t respond. Instead, he rolled onto his side, curled up a little, phone clutched loosely in his hand, but he wasn’t sure for what.

Barely thinking about it, he opened twitter… again. He didn’t bother scrolling, he just searched one word.

leowon

And suddenly, his lips curved before he could stop it.

There they were—videos, photos, posts from fans who always noticed. Sangwon sneaking glances at him. Leo reacting instantly whenever Sangwon spoke, not even realizing he was doing it.

And then there were all the tweets about Sangwon. So many of them. People praising his beauty, calling it unreal, eternal, almost unfair. Talking about his talent, his stage presence, the way he owned the stage without even trying. Fans sharing how cute and genuine he was offstage, how kind he seemed to fans, how carefully he listened when others spoke.

Leo read every single one.

That’s him, that’s the Sangwon he knows.

There was no use pretending. He was down bad, completely, totally in love.

Out of nowhere the door swung open with no warning.

Leo nearly jumped out of his skin, heart slamming violently against his ribs. His head snapped up, panic in his eyes.

And there he was.

Sangwon standing there, hair slightly messy, shirt sleeves pulled over his hands. His eyes met Leo’s for just a second, soft, but uncertain, before he quietly closed the door behind him.

Without saying anything, he walked toward the bed like it was instinct, like he’d done this a thousand times before. He lay down beside Leo and immediately turned, pressing himself close, burying his face into Leo’s chest like that was the only place he knew how to breathe.

Leo locked the phone screen without looking, dropped it somewhere behind him, and wrapped his arms around Sangwon without hesitation. His hand came up automatically, fingers sliding into Sangwon’s hair, gentle. He held him closer, tighter, like he was afraid Sangwon might disappear if he didn’t.

And then he felt Sangwon’s body trembling. Quiet sniffles followed, small and broken, like he was trying so hard not to cry out loud. Leo’s chest tightened painfully as Sangwon’s voice came, muffled and shaking against him.

“I missed you.”

That was all it took. Leo pressed his lips to the top of Sangwon’s head. He held him like he was something precious and fragile, like something he never wanted to let go again.

“I’m here,” Leo whispered, steady somehow, even with everything shaking inside him. “I’m right here.”

His fingers continued to comb through Sangwon’s hair, slow and soothing, as if trying to calm not just Sangwon, but himself too. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside that room, the fans, rumours, schedules, fear, it all fell silent.

It was just them, being together.

Leo still listened to Sangwon’s quiet trembling, the sniffles that sounded like they were being swallowed back out of habit rather than strength. His hand kept moving through Sangwon’s hair in slow, steady motions, muscle memory doing what his mind couldn’t yet figure out.

He didn’t know what to do, but he knew what he had to do. Sangwon had come here. Sangwon crossed the hallway, opened the door, hugged Leo. That meant it was Leo’s turn now. To talk, to explain, to stop hiding behind silence. To be the safe place he’d always promised to be for Sangwon, his Sangwonie.

Leo swallowed, heart pounding, and finally spoke softly.

“…Did you eat?”

It sounded dumb, but it was all he could manage.

Sangwon let out a soft sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, his grip on Leo tightening.

“How can I eat,” he mumbled into Leo’s chest, voice shaking, “when all I can think about is you?”

Leo took a deep breath.

“This whole thing,” Sangwon continued. “Not talking, not spending time together, acting like strangers even when we’re in the same room. It’s killing me, Leo. Every time I see you, I have to think about it, about us. Every single time.”

Leo closed his eyes, forehead resting lightly against Sangwon’s head.

“Are you scared to talk to me?” Sangwon asked quietly.

The question hurt more than the answer.

“I know our schedules are crazy, I know sometimes we need space, time to breathe. And we can’t do many things in front of some certain people. I understand that. I really do. But not like this. I don’t want us to be like this.”

He moved slightly, still clinging to Leo. “I know you want to get close to the other members. And I want that too. I want us to be a real team, but sometimes I get scared.”

“What if you get too close to someone else?” Sangwon whispered. “What if one day there’s no space left for me in your life?”

Leo pulled back just enough to speak clearly. “That’s impossible.”

Sangwon scoffed quietly in disbelief, lips pouting instinctively, and finally he looked up. And Leo nearly broke. Those eyes were red and glassy, lashes stuck together with tears that were still holding on. The same eyes that used to be so sure, now just scared. And that was Leo’s fault.

“Sangwon,” Leo said softly, voice slightly trembling now. “You will always be the one in my heart. Always. There isn’t anyone else. There can’t be.”

Sangwon scanned his face like he was trying to find the truth hiding behind the words. Then Leo reached behind his back, fumbling briefly, and pulled out his phone.

“Here,” he said, placing it gently into Sangwon’s hands. “Open it.”

Sangwon frowned, confusion written all over his face looking at Leo with his boba eyes, the one look Leo adored the most.

“Why?”

“Just trust me.”

Slowly, Sangwon typed in the password.

It worked.

“You didn’t change it?”

Leo shook his head.

Three years ago. The day, when Sangwon had said I love you for the first time, not as a joke, not as a friend, but as something promising and terrifying and real. The night he’d slipped Leo a folded note with a short poem he’d written himself, hands shaking as he pretended it wasn’t a big deal.

Sangwon looked back down at the phone. Tweets about Sangwon. His smile, his talent, his kindness, his beauty. Thread after thread praising him, defending him, loving him.

And then it all was about them… Leo and Sangwon.

Sangwon scrolled slowly, realization hitting with every movement of his thumb. He noticed the red little heart icons, the blue bookmarks. Almost every post about him, about them, all of it saved.

“You…” Sangwon whispered.

“That’s what I was doing. Right before you came in.”

Sangwon’s eyes filled again, but this time the tears fell freely, landing on the phone screen as he pressed it to his chest.

“You idiot,” he breathed, voice cracking. “You’re such an idiot.”

Leo laughed weakly, tears burning in his own eyes. “I know.”

Sangwon dropped the phone and squished himself into Leo’s chest, holding him like he was afraid to ever let go again. Leo hugged him back just as tightly, burying his face into Sangwon’s hair.

“I was never going anywhere,” Leo whispered. “I was just scared of hurting you.”

Sangwon shook his head against Leo’s chest. “You hurt me more by not sending me those videos and pictures from fans.”

Leo chuckled, holding him closer. “I’m sorry. I will send you all of them, I promise.”

Sangwon’s breathing slowed down, his body relaxing against Leo’s.

They were still here, finally together.

Leo stayed quiet for a long moment after that, his arms still wrapped around Sangwon, his chin resting lightly against the top of his head. The room felt smaller in a good way now, like the outside world had finally been peaceful.

“I honestly don’t know how to act anymore,” Leo admitted quietly.

Sangwon shifted slightly, listening.

“With you,” Leo continued, voice low and honest. “I don’t know how to interact with you in front of cameras. In front of fans. Every time I move, I’m thinking—is this too much? Is this being watched? Is this going to hurt you?”

Sangwon was silent for a second, then let out a soft sigh. “I noticed.”

Leo stiffened a little. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Sangwon said gently.

He pulled back just enough to look at Leo, expression calm now, honest.

“You think I don’t see it, but I do. You’re still there, always. You stand farther away, but you watch me. You clap for me. You look at me like you’re checking if I’m okay. You give me those little looks, like approval, like reassurance.”

Leo felt his throat tighten.

“But,” Sangwon added softly, eyes shutting for a moment, “I also notice when people talk. When things get… pushed.”

Leo knew exactly what he meant.

“The times with Geonwoo,” Sangwon said. “I know we’re good friends. I like him. But lately it feels… staged. The way they always put us next to each other when fans react well.”

Sangwon hesitated, then said, “If you want, I can talk to the company. Ask them to stop.”

Leo’s head lifted immediately. “No, it’s okay, really. I know you and Geonwoo are close. He’s a good friend. I trust you.”

Sangwon stared at him for a second. Then he laughed. Not loudly, just a soft, fond laugh that made his eyes crinkle.

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Leo said instantly, brows knitting.

Sangwon scoffed. “You absolutely are.”

Leo opened his mouth to argue, but Sangwon cut in smoothly. “Remember that one time? When we had to do those poses together? And the fans screamed?”

Leo froze.

Sangwon grinned. “You leaned over and whispered, ‘How is this getting a better reaction than Chains?’”

Leo’s ears burned. “That was—”

“You were sulking the whole night,” Sangwon finished proudly.

Leo groaned and dropped his forehead to Sangwon’s head. “I was not sulking.”

Sangwon laughed again, warmth returning fully now, and Leo pressed a kiss to his forehead without thinking.

Sangwon blinked up at him. “Why are you suddenly acting so cute in front of fans these days?”

Leo sighed.

“All those pictures,” Sangwon continued, voice teasing but curious. “That smile. That expression. You know that used to be just for me.”

Leo hesitated, then exhaled slowly.

“Because it still is,” he admitted. “I just… didn’t have you around like before. We’re busy. We don’t live together anymore.”

Sangwon’s teasing faded.

“So every time I did that,” Leo said quietly, “every time I took one of those pictures, I was thinking about you. Because I know you like that side of me. And because I know you save them, definitely all of them.”

Sangwon’s breath caught.

“I wanted you to see me and think… that smile is for me. Even if I couldn’t say it.”

Sangwon surged forward and kissed him and of course Leo kissed him back just as softly, hands warm and steady against his back.

After that they talked, really talked. About nothing important and everything at once. About Anxin’s terrible jokes. About Junseo’s snoring. About old dorm memories and future dreams they were too scared to name out loud. Sometimes they kissed. Sometimes they just lay tangled together, fingers tracing familiar paths like they were relearning each other.

At some point, the words faded.

Leo pulled Sangwon closer, arms wrapping around him like a shield, holding him tight. Protecting him from everything, everyone and especially the world that didn’t get to take him away.

Morning arrived quietly, like it didn’t want to disturb them.

Leo woke up slowly, awareness returning in gentle pieces, the weight of another body against his chest, the warmth tucked perfectly into his arms, the steady rise and fall of breathing that wasn’t his own. He didn’t move right away. He was afraid that if he did, the moment might slip through his fingers like a dream you forget too fast.

Sangwon.

Still there. Still real.

Leo tightened his hold just a fraction, careful not to wake him, and let himself really look. Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and pale, catching in Sangwon’s hair, smoothing over the curve of his cheek, the gentle line of his lips parted slightly in sleep.

Such a beautiful person.

The thought hit him with overwhelming force. What had he done in his previous life, what kind of impossible luck or mercy had followed him here, that someone like this existed beside him? Someone this kind, this patient, this loving, this willing to stay, even when it hurt. An angel, Leo thought stupidly, fondly. And somehow… he chose me.

Leo reached for his phone with his free hand, careful not to move too much. The screen lit up dimly.

Too early.

He checked their schedule, habits ingrained too deep to disappear overnight. More than five hours before they had to be anywhere. Plenty of time. A rare gift.

Good.

He locked the screen again and set the phone aside, deciding immediately that nothing else mattered. Just a few more minutes. Just this. Sangwon in his arms.

As if he could sense it, Sangwon moved. His eyelashes fluttered, eyes opening slowly, unfocused at first, then they landed on Leo. And instantly, a bright smile bloomed across his face, soft and unguarded, like the sun rising just for him.

“Cute,” Sangwon said softly, voice still rough with sleep.

“Cute,” Leo replied at the exact same moment.

They stopped, then burst into quiet laughter, shoulders shaking, foreheads touching. The sound felt familiar in a way that made Leo’s chest ache with something sweet and nostalgic.

For a moment, it felt like a year ago. Like nothing had ever gone wrong. Like they were back in that tiny apartment, back before tension and distance and fear had crept in and made everything heavier than it needed to be.

“I missed this,” Sangwon murmured, rubbing his nose lightly against Leo’s.

“Me too,” Leo admitted, brushing a thumb under Sangwon’s eye. “So much.”

Sangwon stretched a little, still half tangled in Leo’s arms, then tilted his head. “We should shower.”

Leo raised an eyebrow, amused. “Now?”

Sangwon grinned. “We have time, right?”

So they did. They moved together easily, like their bodies already knew the way, no awkwardness, no hesitation. Just two lovers who had memorized each other long before the world tried to make it complicated. Steam filled the bathroom, warm drops of water wrapping around them, laughter echoing softly off tiled walls. Nothing rushed.

For the first time in a long while, Leo felt free.

When they finally returned to the room, Sangwon sat on the edge of Leo’s bed, dressed and relaxed, towel draped over his shoulders as he dried his hair. His cheeks were flushed from the warm water, eyes bright, movements careful. He looked comfortable, safe, happy.

Leo leaned against the door frame, watching him like he was seeing him for the first time all over again. And maybe he was. Because right then, standing there with his heart wide open, Leo realized something quietly weird.

He was falling for Sangwon again. Not because he had to. Not because of history or habit. But because even now, after everything, he still wanted to choose him. Every morning. Every schedule. Every life.

Sangwon looked up, catching Leo staring.

“What?” he asked, smiling.

Leo crossed the room, leaned down, and pressed a gentle kiss to Sangwon’s forehead.

“Nothing,” he said softly. “Just… you.”

And for once, that felt like enough.

They stayed like that for a while. Not doing anything special, just existing together in Leo’s room, sitting on the bed, shoulders brushing, fingers occasionally tangling like it was the most natural thing in the world. Time passed softly, the way it only ever did when Leo was with Sangwon. He almost forgot where they were.

Until an alarm went off. Loud and annoying. From the room next to them.

Jiahao.

Leo groaned quietly and leaned back on his hands. “Of course,” he muttered, glancing toward the wall. “He always sets three alarms.”

Sangwon laughed under his breath.

Leo sighed, rubbing his face. Reality crept back in, gentle but unavoidable. “You should probably go,” he said reluctantly. “Before my roommates start asking questions.”

They both knew it already. The members weren’t blind. They’d noticed the looks, the gravity pulling Leo and Sangwon toward each other no matter how hard they tried to pretend otherwise. But no one had ever said anything out loud. No teasing, no pressure. Just quiet understanding. Like they were all silently agreeing not to make things harder than they already were.

Sangwon tilted his head, lips curving into something dangerous.

“Oh?” he said lightly. “Should I?”

“What do you—”

Too late.

Sangwon stood up, took Leo’s hand without asking, and dragged him out of the room and into the shared space. The living area was empty for the moment, early morning light spilling in through the windows. Sangwon stopped right there, didn’t let go, just stood facing Leo, staring at him like he was holding back laughter.

Leo blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Sangwon didn’t answer. He just laughed suddenly, soft at first, then brighter, and before Leo could even process what was happening, Sangwon leaned in and kissed him.

Leo froze for half a second out of pure shock, but then melted, hands instinctively finding Sangwon’s waist, heart racing like it didn’t know whether to panic or celebrate. The kiss was over almost as fast as it started, leaving Leo breathless and stunned.

Sangwon pulled back just enough to whisper, “I love you,” and sealed it with one more quick kiss, lighter this time, sweet and lovely.

Then he stepped away, grinning like he’d just committed a crime he fully intended to repeat, and walked off down the hall.

Leo stood there, blinking, mind completely blank.

“What the—” he started, still staring after him.

A voice behind him cut in, far too amused.

“Next time,” Geonwoo said, rubbing his eyes as he shuffled out of his room, “you two should just get a room.”

Leo spun around, mortified. “You… how long were you—”

Geonwoo smirked. “Long enough.”

Leo groaned and somewhere down the hall, Sangwon laughed. Of course he knew exactly what he was doing. Especially in front of Geonwoo…

And honestly?

Leo didn’t hate it.

That was how it went for the next few days. No matter how busy the schedules got, endless practices, shoots that dragged on, interviews that blurred together, Leo always ended up in Sangwon’s room by the end of the night. Or sometimes, when they were too exhausted to move, Sangwon would message him instead.

do you think penguins get jealous?

if I steal your coat again does that mean we’re married?

I saw you smile today
it was cute…
that’s all

Leo would read them and smile like an idiot, warmth spreading through him no matter how tired he was.

Silly Sangwon, but only his.

And for the first time in a long while, Leo felt steady, like no matter how loud things got outside, no matter how complicated everything else became, this was something real he could hold onto. Something worth choosing. Again and again.

Their promotions finally came to an end.

Not with fireworks or dramatic tears, just a quiet exhale after weeks of living on wasted energy. The schedules loosened, the alarms stopped being annoying. For the first time in a long while, the word tomorrow didn’t immediately come with an obligation attached.

And Leo knew that if he didn’t do something now, if he let things simply drift again, that tension would creep back in. The fear. The silence. The almosts. He couldn’t go through that again. Not with Sangwon. Not when they had just found their way back to each other.

So that night, after they returned from their last schedule, Leo sat on his bed for a long moment, phone in his hands, heart pounding like he was about to step onto a stage alone.

Then he typed.

grab a jacket and a mask
meet me at the building exit in 10 minutes

He sent it before he could lose his nerve.

It was almost midnight and the apartment felt too quiet. Leo pulled on his jacket, shoved his hands into his pockets to stop them from shaking, and headed down.

Two minutes later, the elevator doors opened again.

Sangwon stepped out from the upper floor, hair tucked under a cap, mask already on, eyes bright with curiosity even in the dim light.

“Where are we going?” Sangwon asked softly.

Leo didn’t answer, just reached out and took Sangwon’s hand.

Sangwon blinked, surprised, but didn’t pull away. His fingers curled back immediately, warm and trusting, and Leo led him out into the cold night.

The city felt slower at this hour. They walked in silence, footsteps echoing softly on the pavement, shoulders brushing now and then. Leo didn’t let go once.

The walk was long. Purposefully so.

Until they reached a small hill, easy to miss during the day, unremarkable to anyone who didn’t know where to look. From there, the Han River stretched out below them, dark and endless, city lights trembling across its surface like scattered stars. The skyline reflected in the water, the moon hanging low above them, real stars faint but visible if you tried hard enough.

Sangwon stopped.

He slipped his hand free gently and stepped closer to the edge, eyes widening. A soft smile spread across his face without him even realizing it.

“Wow…” he breathed.

He took out his phone instinctively, snapping a few photos of the city, the river, the way the lights danced. Then he turned around, lifting the phone to take a picture of Leo, but stopper. Leo was standing a few steps behind him, shoulders stiff, hands trembling slightly as he held a small paper box in front of him. He looked painfully shy, nervous in a way Sangwon had rarely seen, eyes flicking up and down.

Sangwon lowered his phone slowly.

“…Leo?”

“Open it,” Leo said, voice quiet but steady enough.

Sangwon walked back toward him, confusion melting into something softer, something careful. He took the box, fingers brushing Leo’s for a brief second that felt electric.

“What is it?” Sangwon asked.

“Just… open it.”

So he did.

Inside was a ring.

Clear, with a faint shine that caught the city lights. Nothing expensive. Nothing grand. But unmistakably intentional.

Leo rushed to speak before Sangwon could say anything.

“I know it’s cheap,” he said quickly, words tumbling out. “It’s not gold. It’s not what I imagine someday, in my dreams, when things are easier and I can give you everything properly. But I—” He laughed weakly. “I didn’t want to wait anymore.”

Sangwon didn’t respond.

“I just… I hope you’ll keep it,” Leo finished softly. “I don’t want us to lose each other again. I don’t want silence. Or distance. I want you to know I choose you, even when it’s hard.”

Sangwon stayed very still, but ten Leo saw it. The tears. They welled up silently, spilling over before Sangwon could stop them. His lips trembled as he snapped the box shut with shaking fingers and stepped forward, closing the distance in one breathless movement. He wrapped his arms around Leo and held him so tightly it felt like he was trying to fuse them together.

“I don’t need gold,” Sangwon said into Leo’s shoulder, voice breaking. “I don’t need anything like that.”

Leo’s arms came around him automatically, just as tight.

“When I have you,” Sangwon continued, crying openly now, unashamed. “When I have the most romantic person in my life, always by my side. That’s enough. That’s more than enough.”

Leo closed his eyes, pressing his face into Sangwon’s hair, holding him like the world might try to take him away if he loosened his grip.

Under the moonlight, above the quiet river, with the city watching silently, they stood there.

No cameras. No fans. No fear.

Just Leo and Sangwon.

Choosing each other.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, softly, Sangwon broke the silence.

“How do you still remember this?”

Leo blinked, then let out a quiet chuckle, chin resting against Sangwon’s head. “Remember what?”

Sangwon moved back just enough to look up at him, eyes still glossy but shining now with love. “That night.”

Leo’s breath stilled.

“One of those nights,” Sangwon continued, voice distant with memory, “when we weren’t allowed to sleep as trainees. When neither of us had ever been in a relationship. When we were just… kids with too many dreams and not enough rest.”

Leo smiled faintly.

“We stayed up talking the whole night,” Sangwon said. “About how it would feel to be in love. What we would expect. What would matter.”

Leo nodded slowly. He remembered everything.

“And I said…” Sangwon hesitated, then laughed softly through his nose. “I said I wouldn’t expect anything. That if I truly loved someone, I wouldn’t care about money or status. That even if they gave me a plastic ring, I would accept it. I would keep it. Treasure it.”

He looked down at the small box in his hands.

“And now,” he whispered, voice breaking again, “it’s real.”

Sangwon smiled then, soft, disbelieving, overwhelmed. The kind of smile that said I feel seen and loved. The kind that the reason behind his smile could only be Leo.

They stood there a little longer, the memory settling between them like something sacred.

Then Sangwon laughed quietly. “We also talked about our future house.”

Leo’s lips curved before he could stop them.

“A house on a hill,” he said, voice gentle. “With a view of the town. Somewhere quiet.”

He glanced around them, gesturing subtly to the place they stood now. “Something like this.”

Sangwon bit his lip, hard. Because it was true. Too true.

Leo really loved him. Not just in words, not just in feelings, but in memory, in intention, in the way he carried Sangwon through time without even realizing it.

“I still want to keep this private,” Leo admitted. “Just for us.”

Sangwon turned his head slightly, listening.

“I’m scared,” Leo continued honestly. “We’re finally living the dream we’ve been building together for eight years. I don’t want to risk it. I don’t want to lose you because of it.”

Sangwon exhaled slowly, understanding settling in immediately.

“I get it,” he said softly.

No hesitation.

“So it’s okay,” Sangwon added, “if we don’t interact in front of fans or cameras. As long as…” He paused, then looked up at Leo, eyes serious but warm. “As long as you promise me something.”

“Anything,” Leo said without thinking.

“Come to my room at the end of the day,” Sangwon said. “Even if it’s late. Even if you’re tired. Message me in between schedules. Let me know you’re okay. Be there for me when the cameras are off.”

Leo didn’t hesitate this time either.

“Always,” he said firmly.

Sangwon smiled, satisfied, and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Leo’s jaw.

“But you know, your conditions are kind of demanding,” Leo murmured, obviously teasing.

Sangwon huffed quietly against his skin. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I lower my standards?”

“Too late,” Leo said, turning his head just enough for their foreheads to touch. “You picked me already.”

There was a moment, half a second, before Sangwon broke into a quiet laugh. It warmed the space between them, easing whatever tension had lingered from their earlier conversation.

“Yeah,” Sangwon admitted, softer now, like the joke had revealed something honest in him. “I did.”

“You’re stuck with me, forever,” Leo added.

Sangwon squinted at him. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It is.”

“Wow.”

Leo smiled, a small but genuine one. “A lifelong one.”

Sangwon stared at him for a moment, as if deciding whether to laugh or get emotional. Somehow, both happened at once. He lightly pushed Leo’s shoulder.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“Only with you.”

“Oh shut up” Sangwon said, grinning too widely for it to mean anything.

“Okay,” Leo said after a moment, now thoughtful. “Let’s be clear then.”

Sangwon looked at him curiously. “Hm?”

“End of the day, I come to your room.”

“Obviously.”

“I text you between schedules.”

“Minimum requirement.”

“I check on you. You check on me.”

Sangwon nodded approvingly. “Communication is the key.”

Leo glanced at him sideways. “And—”

“There’s more?”

“There’s always more.”

Sangwon groaned quietly, already preparing himself.

Leo smiled, a bit mischievous now. “You stop pretending you don’t like my cheesy lines.”

Sangwon almost wheezed. “Absolutely not.”

“You smiled.”

“I did not.”

“You laughed.”

“That was a reflex.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not—” Sangwon immediately covered his face with his mask, which only made it worse.

Leo laughed quietly, gently pulling it down. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, it was you who said always like your life depended on it.”

Leo didn’t even blink. “It kind of does.”

That silenced him. For once, genuinely, Sangwon had nothing to say. His expression softened, teasing fading into something quieter, something deeper in his heart.

“Eight years,” he murmured.

Leo nodded.

“That’s… insane.”

“It is.”

“And we’re still like this,” Sangwon added, vaguely gesturing between them.

Leo followed the motion, then looked back at him. “Like what?”

Sangwon hesitated, as if struggling to find the right words. His lips pressed together, then curved slightly.

“…stupid.”

Leo chuckled. “That’s your conclusion?”

Sangwon shrugged. “Maybe now… stupid in love?”

“Yeah,” Leo agreed softly. “That sounds about right.”

“If we’re keeping this private, but not a secret…” Sangwon’s lips twitched. “Does that mean I can post pictures of us now?”

Leo blinked at him. “You already do that.”

“True,” Sangwon said thoughtfully. “So nothing changes.”

Leo shook his head, but he was smiling again.

“Nothing important changes,” he corrected.

“I love you,” Sangwon said.

“I know, I can feel it. But I love you more.”

Sangwon sighed at that, then huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“That’s not how it works,” he murmured, nudging Leo lightly.

“It is,” Leo insisted, already grinning, completely unbothered. “I decided.”

“Of course you did.”

And somewhere between the teasing and the quiet, between eight years and everything still ahead of them, nothing changed, except that now, they knew exactly what they had.