Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s crazy to me that we have such a legit youtuber on stream with us. Like, what are you doing hanging out with us, man?”

“Eugene literally has more subscribers than me,” Moondae says, because this is how their streams are supposed to go anyway: Sejin is gregarious and charming, and Moondae remains blunt and un-charmed, and the chat loves it so there’s no need to fake anything else.

“But I just do stupid shit,” Eugene says, casually undermining a gaming and movie review channel with multiple millions of subscribers as if everyone’s got one. “You actually contribute to society or culture or whatever.”

“I don’t know that singing some songs that other people already sang is contributing to our society, but thanks.” He knows what Eugene and Sejin mean about it being unbelievable. There’s little overlap between their youtube spheres, so the fact that he’s blundered into being a regular fixture in Eugene’s loose alliance of youtubers and streamers who share a somewhat collective fandom is a little baffling.

Eugene being associated with Raebin: set from the beginning, Raebin started his nearly-as-popular gaming and tech review channel a bit before Eugene started his, and their pretend (and sometimes not so pretend) beef between channels was a major factor in a, both of their channels blowing up, and b, the massive amount of shippy RPF fic that exists about them.

Eugene becoming friends with movie, TV and book reviewer Ahyeon: sure, they overlapped in the movie review sphere and met in person at cons where Eugene adopted Ahyeon faster than the latter could blink. Raebin accidentally befriending streamer Lee Sejin: naturally, Lee Sejin had a sixth sense for networking, the moment Raebin took him up on a collaboration stream request playing some new game it was inevitable that he’d become embedded in their circle.

But Park Moondae, singer, far below the average subscriber count of their circle? Sure, he had blown up thanks to the PopCon cover, long may it lie dead in a ditch, he considers deleting it at least once a week despite it still being the biggest way people discover his channel, but otherwise his videos are bland white noise compared to the loud and colorful impact of Eugene’s videos or Sejin’s streams. Even Raebin’s minimalist setup and Ahyeon’s carefully curated bookshelf backdrop, with their crisp editing and professional thumbnails, look positively sparkly next to Moondae’s channel.

Every single video takes place in his jury-rigged home recording studio (closet with terrible lighting), starts with him softly saying “Hello, I’m Park Moondae” (always in the exact same intonation), and has a nearly identical thumbnail of his face mostly covered by the microphone with the title of the song in basic font over the whole thing. Scrolling through his backlog of years of videos, the only deviation in thumbnails is the color of the shirt collars and his face getting a little younger. And at one point he changed the font because he got a new computer and editing program and couldn’t find the old font anymore, and it was practically all his comments talked about for three videos straight.

“Oh, I died,” he says, only just noticing. He had zoned out for a minute and been moving his mouse automatically under the assumption that it wouldn’t make a difference whether he attempted to move with strategy or not. In response, the chat fills with viewers spamming the custom Moondae PopCon emoji that Moondae almost killed Sejin for adding to his Twitch channel.

“Dude, you’ve been a ghost for a while now. Chat, I don’t think Moondae is paying enough attention to this very important game for,” Sejin checks something on another tab, “ten-to-fourteen-year-olds.”

“And after we specifically chose something at his level, just for him!” Eugene adds.

“I got distracted by the terrible background music. Doo dee doo dee doot doot doot.” He does his best impression of the electronic beeping masquerading as music that the game uses as background noise.

“Oh please, someone clip that.”

“Anyone who clips that is dead to me.”

“Okay, well, you’re already dead yourself, so go ahead chat.” Sejin punctuates this by shooting Moondae’s character with a little lazer beam.

“What the hell? Why can I die more if I’m already a ghost?” Moondae demands, trying to navigate his blinking-red, health-losing ghost icon over to Sejin. He mashes buttons in an attempt to do violence back, but he’s not sure he can as a ghost. His character continues to blink and float through Sejin.

“Moondae, you need to collect gems to come back to life!” Raebin helpfully informs him, as if Moondae is realistically going to collect gems. Instead he follows Sejin’s character, phasing over and through him again and again as Sejin runs through the map looking for Eugene, presumably to turn him into a ghost as well.

Sejin tries and fails to lose him a few times, annoyed by the visual interference, then gives up. “Hey, if you have a crush on me, just say so.”

“I’m haunting your ass.”

“Romantic.”

- so true soulmates stay together after death <3
- LMAOOO
- Jinjin’s flirting more than usual lately
- fellas is it gay to haunt your best friend’s ass

A smirk flits across Sejin’s face, and Moondae’s willing to bet it’s because he caught the “best friend” comment in chat. He’s scarily good at keeping up with both the game and the chat at the same time.

- moondae sing popcon at the wedding
- If PopCon plays at that wedding Sejin will be divorced within the hour
- the fact that we’re debating the playlist rather than if the wedding’s happening….. tru

“I just got back, why is the chat shipping Moondae and Sejin again?” Ahyeon asks, video reconnecting after a break to grab a snack. His snack is a plate of bread, cheese, and berries, because he’s actually a fae prince or something.

“Oh, finally, someone else who’s bad at this.” Moondae peels off from Sejin to go locate Ahyeon’s character. “Ahyeon, meet up with me, we need to collect gems.”

- OH THE BETRAYAL
- Sejin you’ve lost your man…..
- the fact that moondae thinks ahyeon is anywhere near as bad at this as he is. baby no
- another relationship wrecked by Seon Ahyeon’s face. f
- f
- f

“Abandoned faster than usual,” Sejin notes, because he’s incapable of not feeding them. Moondae’s pretty sure he’s been doing it on purpose since the trend of jokingly (he thinks it’s mostly joking?) shipping them picked up. Sejin knows what that kind of attention did for Eugene and Raebin’s popularity, and Moondae doesn’t think he’s above trying to recreate it artificially. “Ahyeon, how’s it feel to take everything I have from me?”

“I’ve been AFK,” Ahyeon says, puzzled.

- ahyeon doesn’t even realize he’s a homewrecker
- yall are so annoying there is no home to wreck
- no homo to wreck???

Moondae sighs. The chat is getting too offtopic.

This kind of parasocial nonsense is normal among the others’ audience because, well, they’re just too popular for it not to be. But it’s new to him. Before Eugene’s group started regularly bugging him to join them on stream, his audience was 80% people who liked his singing voice, 15% people who stuck around for the occasional video where he’d indulge in a long, offtopic rant after the cover ended, and 5% people going “Wait, this is the PopCon guy? He sings other stuff?”

Now that he’s also known as the weird deadpan guy who fails at games on Eugene’s (friends’) streams, his comment section has expanded to a good 50% “Sejin’s boyfriend!”/“Here to support Moondae at what he’s actually good at”/“Wait it’s all just singing?”

Sure, he’s grateful for the increased revenue with more Patreon supporters, but it’s weird. It’s especially weird that the monetary aspect of it means he doesn’t know how to bring it up to Sejin, since he’s profiting from it too.

Honestly he’s not against lightly gay-baiting Sejin’s audience because anyone with a brain can tell Sejin’s just joking and Moondae doesn’t have to do shit for chat to run with it regardless, so anyone playing along with it is doing so of their own free will, but… he would like for Sejin to acknowledge it out loud, one on one, just to him? Just once? Look him in the eye and admit that he’s dropping words like “crush” and “romantic” for mercenary reasons that have nothing to do with feelings?

Yeah. He would definitely feel a lot better about the whole thing if Sejin would do that. Because then he would know. Not that he doesn’t already know. He knows it’s all fun and games and profit. He just thinks that, ethically, Sejin should disclose that to him.

Speaking of talking privately. He somehow receives a discord DM from Sejin despite not seeing him take a pause from the game.

JinSe: let’s facetime after stream. gotta annoy you about something
Moon123: ? We’re literally talking rn, just say whatever it is
JinSe: i’m being polite not bringing up tubecon in front of chat :)
Moon123: I’ll call you

If Sejin brings up TubeCon in front of an audience, they’ll make a big deal of begging Moondae to go. Not even just chat, but Eugene and Ahyeon too. Raebin’s too dignified (in his own way) to beg, but he would make cute big eyes while Eugene, undignified, did the begging.

Moondae doesn’t know why they’re so hung up on it. They never did anything more than ask if he planned to attend other cons (the answer is always no). But Sejin has fixated on this one, which is happening in Moondae’s city, as the one Moondae can, should, and must attend with them. He’s crude enough to try to bribe him with getting to do a panel with them, and then, when he realized that made Moondae dig his heels in in panic, promise that of course no one said he should join a panel or anything, who threatened him with that?

It’s Moondae’s fault, really, for dropping first his time zone, then his general location, then finally his city into casual conversation with them. This is why they tell you to keep all your information private on the internet. Now Lee Sejin knows his full name, his approximate location, and several social media handles to contact him on, and is threatening to acquire the con creator pass for him. Nightmare situation.

The real nightmare, of course, is that Moondae’s letting himself be convinced.

“It’s just two weeks after Ahyeon’s birthday, so we’re basically going to be celebrating!” Sejin says, audio full of the clink and clank of dishes he’s haphazardly unloading from a dishwasher, because Lee Sejin makes enough money as a streamer to rent an apartment nice enough for a dishwasher, without a roommate.

Moondae knows because he knows a lot more about Sejin’s home than he ever expected to before the guy started calling him several nights a week. Because apparently it’s not enough to blow up Moondae’s phone with DMs, and Sejin doesn’t seem to believe in audio-only calls. He always calls with video, regardless of what he’s doing – chores, walking around the block, stretching, answering emails.

Moondae would think Sejin calls him up for background noise, but it’s Sejin who does most of the talking. Moondae, forced to turn on his own camera because Sejin whines if he doesn’t, just sits at his desk, chin propped on his hand, and mostly stares and listens. Trying to figure out what it is that makes all this work for Lee Sejin. Why he’s magnetic through a screen, whether it’s on stream or on a call.

Once Sejin glanced at the video call and said, “This is what I imagine having a cat would be like. Just always there, watching you, silently.”

Moondae hung up on him. Sejin called back. Moondae, operating on what must be the world’s worst instincts, picked up.

“You called me. Don’t complain if I don’t have shit to say.”

Sejin was laughing. “I’m sorry! I don’t care if you don’t have shit to say! Stay on the line, I think my food just got here.”

Moondae has no excuse for why he was still on the line when Sejin got back from his lobby with his delivery. No excuse for why he reheated yesterday’s leftovers and ate while Sejin did, even though he normally wouldn’t eat for another hour or two. No excuse for entertaining Sejin now.

“Ahyeon’s birthday? When is it?”

“Well.” Sejin’s face says he’s been caught, but Moondae can’t yet tell how. “It’s… soon.”

“What day? I want to be able to message him.”

“Next week,” Sejin muttered.

“Hey, Lee Sejin.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you fail math?”

“I think you’re stereotyping me as a stupid gamer just because I–”

“If Ahyeon’s birthday is next week, and TubeCon is in a month and a half, how did you manage to calculate two weeks between his birthday and the con?”

“His birthday is the closest to TubeCon, so we’ll be celebrating it. You don’t get it because you never come, we always do a birthday cake for whoever’s birthday passed since last time we saw each other.”

Moondae takes a moment to consider whether this, like the two weeks, is a lie, and decides it probably isn’t. It’s the sort of cute thing Eugene’s group would do, the kind of thing that makes him feel a little left out. But it’s still bullshit that he tried to fudge the timing to make it seem like Ahyeon’s birthday was a reason to come.

“Forget it.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn, man.” His words are softened by the whininess in his voice. “We just wanna hang out.”

“Who’s we? Everyone else is being respectful of me not caring to attend.”

Sejin scoffs. “Uh, no, everyone else just left it to me to do the convincing.” He scans Moondae’s face, then picks up his phone, jolting the video. “Check your DMs in one second.”

Ping. A message from Sejin with screenshots of a conversation that happened in a chat titled “MISSION MEET UP WITH MOONDAE.”

JinSe: [TubeCon website link] let’s fucking go it’s in moondae’s city
YouGenius: HELL YEAH HELL YEAH
Raebbit: !!!!!!!!
Ahyawn: Yay!
Ahyawn: Why isn’t he in this chat?
Raebbit: Is he going?
YouGenius: he’s going right?
Ahyawn: He has to go
JinSe: so
JinSe: it’s moondae
JinSe: just leave it to me k
Ahyawn: Why don’t I feel reassured
Raebbit: Let’s have Ahyeon tell him
JinSe: i’ll take care of it
YouGenius: im gonna message him
JinSe: i said i’ll do it
YouGenius: ohhhhhhhhhhhhh
YouGenius: i see i see
Raebbit: See what
Raebbit: Let’s just ask about it next time we stream together
JinSe: he will def see that as an ambush
JinSe: do i need to call and explain the strategy
Raebbit: Yes. Why is there a strategy
JinSe: ok everyone get on voice right now, we can’t have anyone messing this up

Moondae blinks down at the screenshot, disconcerted.

They all seem really excited about it.

He goes back to the video call, because Sejin’s face is easier on his eyes than the screenshots.

“By the way, even if you don’t come, Eugene’s gonna jump right to ‘why don’t we meet up afterwards’ so consider that the war’s not over even if you win this battle.”

The thing is, it no longer feels like a battle worth winning.

What’s the worst that can happen? It turns out to be incredibly awkward and they all drift away from him and his life, both online and offline, returns to exactly what it was a year ago? That’s completely survivable. Maybe even preferable. No more weirdos invading his comment section or strangers pretending Sejin is into him or Sejin pretending to be into him. That sounds great, he tells himself, so really the worst case scenario is a great possible scenario, and it’s fine that he’s on the TubeCon website checking how much tickets are.

“There’s two days? Which day should I…?”

Sejin breaks out into a colossal grin. “Don’t be an idiot, your creator pass is for both days. I’ll tell the con organizers to email it over. You’re doing the panel, right?”

Moondae glares at him balefully. He should say no just to ruin Sejin’s night, make him have to run back to the con organizers with his tail between his legs and admit he lied about having secured Moondae’s participation, which he clearly did. But he saw the price of tickets and it’s probably worth an awkward panel of letting the others talk while he nods along to not have to pay for his attendance. “Yes, fine, I’ll do the panel too.”

“Great. Awesome. You won’t regret it. One hundred percent satisfaction guaranteed.” Sejin’s stupid grin must be tied to whatever mechanism in his mouth makes him say stupid things.

“Or what?” Moondae asks. “It’s usually ‘satisfaction guaranteed or your money back.’ What are you putting on the line if I’m not satisfied?”

“Absolutely nothing. We’ll let you know when we’re getting in and stuff, where we’re staying, etcetera, actually hold on. I’m adding you to the chat.”

Ping. Moondae accepts the invite.

“Just don’t backread, okay?”

“Why would I backread?” he asks, mystified.

Splat! Moon123 has joined! Say hello!
YouGenius: MOONDAE
YouGenius: MOONDAE
YouGenius: MOONDAE
Moon123: Hi
YouGenius: MOONDAEEEEEEEE
JinSe: as promised
Raebbit: Are you coming to TubeCon????
Moon123: Yeah
YouGenius: HELL YEAH HELL YEAH
YouGenius: tbh i did not believe in sejin
YouGenius: i thought i was gonna have to step in
YouGenius: wait hold on you’re here
YouGenius: man that was a bold choice
Moon123: ?
YouGenius: sejin adding you to this chat lol
JinSe: all our discussions about travel are in here
YouGenius: so’s your [glass of milk emoji]
Moon123: ?
Raebbit: What does that mean
YouGenius: lmao he’s deleting the messages
JinSe: shut up. moondae you can backread it’s fine
YouGenius: ahyeon’s gonna be so happy when he wakes up
YouGenius: he was sooooo sad sejin was failing his mission
JinSe: i wasn’t failing i was laying the groundwork
YouGenius: ok and are you still laying the groundwork on your overall mission or
JinSe: moondae feel free to mute this chat whenever
Moon123: I always feel free to mute you

Chapter Text

“Oh my God,” Moondae says when Eugene lifts him fully off the ground. He did not realize how tall the kid was, or how touchy. In the first hour they spend hanging out at the hotel visiting creators are housed in before the con starts, Eugene hugs Moondae about five times, playfully punches Sejin’s arm or shoulder innumerable times, hangs off Ahyeon’s arm until he’s gently removed, and fully drapes himself over Raebin any time he isn’t in physical contact with anyone else. They act like this is normal.

Moondae has no idea how Raebin, the biggest victim, doesn’t even react beyond sometimes reaching up to pet Eugene’s hair. Picturing someone (Sejin? Tell him why in his head it’s Sejin) leaning their whole body on him like that makes him feel like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. But Raebin acts like this is normal, like it’s neither surprising nor annoying that Eugene clings to him like saran wrap. Moondae truly doesn’t get it, and it gives him a weird feeling to see it.

In the weeks leading up to TubeCon, Sejin was unbearably smug about his success.

“It’s so okay that you suck at this, I’ll give you some pointers in person.”

“I’ll leave the stream,” Moondae threatens as he dies and regenerates for the third time.

“But you’ll never leave my heart. Watch out, zombies.”

Moondae dies again.

Somehow, he hadn’t been expecting Sejin to have the guts to flirt in person.

Honestly, it was mild. There’s no reason for him to be so off kilter because of one joke in the midst of their panel. But it feels more personal because it’s happening in real life, no screens or thousands of miles between them. He’s a little angry and that makes him a little bold.

In the chaos backstage as the con organizers scoot them along so they can get the next panel running on time, he pulls Sejin aside. “You really just do that in front of everyone.”

“Do–?” Sejin doesn’t get it, and then he does. “Oh.” He looks surprised, probably because Moondae’s never said a word about it before.

“Well, shouldn’t you say something to me about it eventually?” Oh, he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s all been going so well, there’s no reason to do this here and now, except that Sejin looked at him and smiled like that in front of all those people and it felt different because he was only five feet away when he did it and suddenly it felt real real.

Sejin says awkwardly, “I guess I thought it was… going well?”

What was going well, exactly, though? Embedding the idea of their ship in the depths of the internet to boost their fame, like what naturally happened for Eugene and Raebin? Moondae has to just ask. He has to make Sejin say it out loud.

“So you just want to do what Eugene and Raebin did.”

Sejin’s face goes blank, and then bright red. “W-well, yeah, I guess you could say that. Yeah. Yes. I do. That’s, that’s what I want.”

Great. That’s completely great. Moondae is very happy to finally hear him admit that. On an unrelated note, there’s a giant weight in his stomach sinking like a lead pipe, but that’s probably because he got food poisoning or something.

“Let’s find the group,” he says. He’s pretty sure he sounds perfectly fine.

“What? Don’t you have something to tell me now?” His voice is urgent.

Of course, it’s urgent to him to know if it’s okay to keep going with his strategy. And Moondae’s got no real reason to oppose now that Sejin’s done the only thing he had mentally claimed to need from him, so. He’s chill and furthermore completely fine.

“Yeah, I was just checking that we were on the same page. But, like Eugene and Raebin are, you know, that’s fine.” The two of them don’t actually put on a show, he’s gathered, they just let the internet run with it, and he can live with that as long as Sejin doesn’t push it any further. He just wants Sejin to keep in mind that the blueprint they’re following is pretty tame.

Sejin doesn’t seem to mind the warning. He grins like Moondae made his day.

And the rest of the day passes in a blur of being dragged around by Eugene, punctuated by periods of calm when Ahyeon is able to detach Eugene from him so they can sit and have a snack or water for a moment.

As if he hasn’t been to tons of these, Eugene zooms around looking at everything and meeting everyone like it’s his one and only chance. Moondae can get exhausted just watching him but at least Eugene’s antics can always provide a distraction from Lee Sejin acting strangely. Which he is. He sticks so close to Moondae’s side that Moondae almost wants to remind him of the conversation they just had, but, well, he can’t really argue that Sejin isn’t following Eugene’s model.

He supposes that makes him Raebin, and if he were Raebin, he would reach up and brush his hand through EugeneSejin’s hair when he leans on his shoulder. He’s definitely not Raebin, because he could never in a million years do that.

It’s the weirdest day he’s ever had. Lee Sejin smiling at him (and bumping his shoulder and leaning on him and saying his name and sharing his french fries) in person. The difference between Ahyeon’s vibe and Eugene’s with Raebin bouncing between them. High levels of stress yet somehow a lot of fun, if he doesn’t think about the conversation with Sejin. Finally, it’s time for dinner, and then he’ll get to slog across the city to his apartment and curl up until he does it again tomorrow.

“We’re going to drop stuff off in our room!” Eugene informs them, Raebin at his side, which makes sense because his arms are full of merch from the artist booths and he probably needs Raebin’s help to make sure he doesn’t lose any of it. “Ahyeon said he’ll meet us at the restaurant after changing, can you guys grab the table?”

Moondae agrees and waves them off, despairing. Left alone with Sejin in a backstage hallway that exits the convention. Okay. He can do this, that’s fine.

He turns to find that Sejin is just inches away and actively sliding even closer. Moondae literally trips backward in shock and has to be thankful Sejin catches his arm to steady him, and then he isn’t grateful at all because Sejin pulls him forward and kisses his hand as if that’s a normal thing to do to– well, to anyone, but especially to Park Moondae.

“Hey, what the fuck?” he whisper-yells, panicked.

Sejin quickly looks around. “What? There’s no one here. I checked first. Don’t worry, I can be careful.” He says it like it’s the only possible reason Moondae would have freaked out, no other thoughts in his brain, which mildly confirms Moondae’s suspicion that he doesn’t actually have a brain. And then he has the nerve to cup Moondae’s face in one hand, tilting their heads together to bump foreheads, and say, “So now’s fine, right?”

Moondae stares at him. He has no idea what the answer is. What he knows is that Sejin’s mouth is a scant inch or two away from his and from this close his eyelashes look so long and the hand on his wrist is rubbing circles on his skin that make him feel weird and fuzzy. What. What was the question. He could not tell you the fucking question if his life depended on it, which it might.

“Park Moondae?”

“Yes?” He says automatically. Oh. Wait.

There’s no waiting. Sejin kisses him. Once very gently and again just as softly and a third time that lasts longer, easing into it until Moondae hesitantly parts his mouth and lets Sejin pull gently on his bottom lip, which turns his whole body to jelly. Sejin hums like that was exactly what he wanted, a Park Moondae made of gelatin clutching his shoulders for balance.

It’s all Moondae can manage to stand there as Sejin wraps his arms around his waist, nuzzles against the top of his head, and mutters in a voice too close to adoration for him to process, “You’re so cute, I can’t believe you made me wait ten months to see you in person.”

Oh, Moondae thinks. He likes seeing me. It’s always gotta be a stupid video call so he can see me.

Other than that, he has no thoughts and no idea what’s happening.

“So you two had a good time,” Eugene says, impolitely acknowledging the fact that Moondae and Sejin are both visibly rumpled as he slides into the booth. Raebin follows him with a quizzical look; unclear if he can pick up the vibes Eugene can.

Moondae glares at Eugene, perhaps undeservedly. But he feels like this situation is partly Eugene’s fault. He’s sitting here having been made out with by Lee Sejin, not a clue why that happened, and he has a sneaking suspicion Cha Eugene is in some way at fault, because the the point at which things went sideways was “So you just want to do what Eugene and Raebin did.”

He can’t ask, though. Sejin’s right next to him.

“Look at the menu,” he tells Eugene severely.

“Okay,” Eugene says cheerfully, picking up the laminated menu. But then he goes and shoves his entire foot in it, by putting the menu back down and saying, “Oh! Me and Raebin have been meaning to tell you but we never got to see you in person till now. We’re dating! But you can’t tell anyone because it’s a secret. You know, so people on the internet won’t be massively weird about it.”

“Okay,” Moondae says faintly.

“Dumbass,” Sejin says cheerfully, “you already told him about that.”

“Nuh-uh.” Eugene looks at Sejin with big, offended eyes, without care for the fact that Moondae is making sharp hand motions at him to just stop and shut up. “We never told Moondae because we kept saying we’d do it at the next con and then he never came.”

“I’m telling you Moondae already knew.”

“No–”

“Eugene, stop it,” Moondae mutters.

Sejin says, “He literally said to me earlier, ‘like Eugene and Raebin are,’ or whatever. He knew.”

Now Eugene glances at Moondae’s red face. Moondae mouths stop it but Eugene just grins widely. “Nah, he didn’t. He must’ve meant something else.”

“Cha Eugene,” Moondae says out loud, hating where this is going, “shut up.”

“What else is there to mean?” Sejin says, he’s probably rolling his eyes, if Moondae were brave enough to look.

“Something like ‘the way the internet thinks Eugene and Raebin are gaybaiting for views?’” Eugene laughs loudly, but Moondae… feels like crying.

He can feel Sejin staring at him like a cold and clammy cloth against his neck. No one’s laughing with Eugene, which is what shuts him up and makes him notice whatever terrible thing Moondae’s expression is currently doing.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” He can’t seem to tell what’s wrong, but he’s too nice not to see that something is wrong and be apologetic.

“I told you to stop,” Moondae says, ready to pass out. “Now he’s angry.” He couldn’t for the life of him tell you why he said that out loud. It sounds so childish.

“Is that what you were asking me earlier? If I was using you for views or some shit?”

Moondae stares at the tabletop, stomach sinking.

Yeah. That’s what he thought. And that’s because at every single opportunity in the time they’ve known each other, Moondae has assumed the worst of Sejin. Taken it as fact that Sejin wriggled his way into Eugene’s group uninvited seeking popularity. Assumed that Sejin only flirted with him for viewers’ attention. Acted like it was a grand mystery why Sejin always sought him out because it couldn’t possibly be that he just enjoyed Moondae’s company regardless of how comparatively few subscribers he had.

And he didn’t even think those things because he hated Sejin or anything, he’d always been impressed by him and maybe, okay, attracted to him, but he still thought them. And Sejin had liked him anyway, not knowing that Moondae had the world’s suckiest brain. Sejin had wanted to see him and kissed him and held his hand over to the restaurant. Moondae didn’t deserve that but he thought for a moment he would get away with having it because the universe had conspired to make it possible.

It’s not fair. He almost got to have this.

Sejin’s hand around his wrist tugs him out of his seat and Moondae follows him wordlessly to a back corner of the restaurant.

“Park Moondae.” His name in Sejin’s mouth has become something hard and stern.

He didn’t even have to do anything and Sejin fell right into his life, bright and perfect and beautiful, but now he’s mad and because Moondae never did anything to get him in the first place he doesn’t have the first clue how to keep him.

Does he just have to stand by, useless as a statue, as the universe gives him Sejin and takes him away? Can’t he have any say in this?

It’s pure instinct and the need to do something that makes him grab Sejin around the waist and stuff his head against his chest. “Don’t be mad.”

“Hey,” Sejin says in a strange voice.

“Don’t, just don’t be. I liked it. So don’t take it back.”

“Park Moondae.” This time it sounds like he’s being strangled, just a wheeze in the shape of his name. Moondae presses his head against his chest, harder, one more time before daring to peek up, scared of what will be written on his face. It turns out, Sejin is very pink and looking at the ceiling. “D-don’t be cute, what the fuck? I’m j-just trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“Don’t try to figure it out! Just leave it.” Remembering the way Sejin held him after the kiss, he presses in as close as possible and puts his cheek on Sejin’s shoulder. It lets him hide out of Sejin’s sight, in case he looks down, while being close, which sounds like the best possible combination right now. “It doesn’t matter at all, so just leave it.”

“You really didn’t realize that–”

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Moondae kisses him.

“Gross, we all saw that,” Eugene informs them when they’re back at the table. Ahyeon has arrived, coat already elegantly thrown over the back of his seat, and he’s beaming.

“Congrats, Sejin! Oh, and Moondae too, I suppose. Sejin got the better deal, though.”

Moondae almost chokes, he didn’t know Seon Ahyeon could make jokes like that with his angelic face.

It’s a very inaccurate joke too, given that Sejin just had to deal with a show of extreme and humiliating clinginess in the back corner of a restaurant behind a fake plant just because his boyfriend of less than six hours (Moondae isn’t sure whether they started dating after the panel or after the kiss, but whatever) freaked out that he was about to lose the relationship he hadn’t even consciously wanted when he woke up today. Sejin definitely got the worse end of this deal.

(As Moondae kept attempting to bury his face in Sejin’s shirt: “Hey, chill, I’m not mad. I was a little mad but I’m already not mad so, please, Park Moondae, I am not strong enough for this.”)

It turns out, to Sejin, “Eugene and Raebin’s whole deal” means going from online friends with a vibe to offline boyfriends who don’t let on that the vibe is now real, and he would like to know if Moondae is agreeing to that kind of deal.

“So now you can thirst on main without having to delete your messages, I guess,” Eugene notes. “I mean, it’s still really embarrassing for you, don’t get me wrong, but at least you don’t have to hide it from Moondae.”

“Shut up,” Sejin tells him earnestly.