Chapter Text
It wasn’t easy being the one who understood first.
Jay had always thought the worst part of liking someone would be the uncertainty. The not knowing if they felt the same. But this patient waiting while watching someone else figure out their own mess of feelings?
This was worse.
He hadn’t expected Jake to take it well. In fact, he’d braced for worse than a few cold glares and that tight-lipped silence the night after their talk. But now, a full day later, Jake wasn’t angry. Not really. Just… withdrawn.
Jay caught him avoiding Sunoo at rehearsals, subtly rerouting his path around the younger like it was muscle memory. He sighed.
Of course Jake would react like this.
“Idiot,” Jay muttered under his breath. Not cruel. Almost fond.
The day passed in a haze of choreography tweaks and stage cue reviews. It wasn’t until the sun began to dip beyond the windows of the practice room that Jay noticed Sunoo lingering by the mirrors, eyes fixed on Jake. Concern threaded through his features like light catching on glass.
He walked over and nudged Sunoo lightly with his elbow.
“You gonna ask him what’s up, or keep throwing him sad puppy eyes from across the room?”
Sunoo pouted, gaze drifting back to Jake. “He looks tired.”
“He is,” Jay said carefully. “He’s also not talking because he’s terrible at handling his emotions.”
Sunoo turned to him, blinking. “Emotions? Like… stress?”
Jay hesitated. “Sort of. More like—” He exhaled. “More like emotional feelings.”
Sunoo tilted his head, lips parting slightly. “Oh.” A pause. “Did something happen? I thought he was just avoiding the center spot… Or is it because I made him hold my mic pack earlier? I said thank you…”
Jay gave a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, Sunoo. It’s not the mic pack.”
Sunoo frowned, clearly puzzled. “Then what is it?”
Jay looked at him for a beat too long, eyes gentle, almost sad. “You really don’t notice how people feel about you?”
Sunoo’s gaze flickered, clearly lost. “No? Should I?”
Jay smiled. Not unkindly, but a small, weary curve of his lips. “No. It’s kind of your charm.”
Sunoo opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue, then paused. His brow furrowed, whisker dimples peeking faintly as he pressed his lips together in thought. Still uncertain. Still adorably lost.
Jay stared at him for a moment longer, his expression shifting—something wistful, closer to longing.
“He’s overwhelmed,” he said. “You… kind of do that to people.”
Sunoo’s brows lifted. “Do what?”
Jay looked away, lips twitching like he didn’t trust them. “You walk into a room, and somehow the whole air just changes.”
Sunoo slowly blinked this time, his eyes tracing Jay’s face like he was discovering something new. “That’s dramatic.”
Jay shrugged. “It’s not untrue.”
A small pause hung between them. Sunoo glanced down, tugging at his sleeve with a mischievous smile before looking back up with bright, teasing eyes.
“Hey, do I do that to you too? You know, change the air and all?”
Jay didn’t answer right away. He just fixed his gaze on him, really taking him in. Then gave a tiny, crooked smile.
“You should probably go talk to Jake before he self-destructs.”
Sunoo blinked, caught off guard by the dodge. “Why would he—?”
“Just go,” Jay said, voice softer now, the playfulness fading.
But Sunoo didn’t move right away. He lingered beside the older, shifting his weight, hesitant. “Hyungie,” he said quietly, “what am I supposed to say?”
Jay looked at him sideways. “I don’t know. Something normal? Maybe start with hi.”
Sunoo’s lips pressed together in a mild grimace. “That sounds suspicious.”
Jay pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not interrogating him, you’re just checking in because you care.”
Sunoo didn’t reply right away. He glanced up, eyes softer and uncertain. Then, without a word, he leaned in and nudged Jay’s arm with his shoulder, a blink of contact that made Jay huff under his breath.
"You’re so annoying.” Jay muttered fondly. Before Sunoo could pull away, he reached out and gently pinched one of Sunoo’s cheeks.
“Hey!” Sunoo squawked, swatting his hand with a giggle, cheeks puffed up like an affronted bunny. “Don’t!”
He followed it up with a flurry of light punches to Jay’s chest—tiny fists, rapid-fire and full of flair, with all the impact of a feather. Jay barely flinched.
“Is that supposed to hurt?”
Sunoo scowled playfully, landing one last harmless smack before spinning away with his nose in the air. Jay watched him go, still smiling, gaze lingering as Sunoo padded off toward Jake. He was half-sitting on the floor by the mirror wall, pretending to scroll on a phone that hadn't moved in minutes.
Sunoo stopped a few feet away, hovering as if he wasn’t sure if he should stay or go. His fingers curled and uncurled at his sides. “Hey.”
The other looked up, guarded. “Hey.”
A beat passed. Two. Sunoo shifted his weight, glancing around like he wished he had something to do with his hands. Then, as if remembering his purpose, he scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat.
“Um. Thanks for earlier, hyungie.”
Jake blinked. “Earlier?”
Sunoo made a vague wave with one hand, eyes darting away. “You know. The mic pack thing.”
“That was like... four hours ago.”
Sunoo flushed slightly. “Right. Well… still. Thank you.”
Jake opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. He gave a single, small nod, eyes flicking down to where the younger's hands were nervously tugging at the hem of his shirt. “You’re welcome.”
Another pause. Then, more subdued: “…Are you okay?” Sunoo asked.
A brow twitched. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Sunoo tilted his head again, lips parting like he wanted to answer, but he faltered. “I… don’t know. You’ve been quiet.”
Jake didn’t answer right away. His thumb resumed its idle slide across the phone screen, even though he wasn’t looking at it.
Sunoo took a step closer, cautious, the way you might approach a wary animal. His voice dipped. “If I did something wrong…”
Jake looked up sharply. “You didn’t.”
Sunoo blinked, startled. His lashes fluttered. “Oh. Okay.”
Jake exhaled, finally setting his phone aside. “I’m just tired.”
Sunoo nodded, but didn’t leave. He crouched next to him instead, arms resting on his knees.
“Jay-hyung said the same thing,” he murmured, almost like he was talking to himself.
Jake’s mouth twitched. “He talks too much.”
Sunoo let out a soft hum of amusement. “He also said you’ve been avoiding me.”
Jake stilled.
Sunoo looked at him, curious. “Are you?”
Jake didn’t answer. His jaw moved slightly, but no words came out.
Sunoo waited, patient. “Because if you are… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Jake’s eyes settled on him, fully focused. His gaze dragged over every unsure line of Sunoo’s posture—the slight slump of his shoulders, the way his damp hair clung to his temple, how his shirt collar had slipped down one side and he hadn’t even noticed.
He shook his head. “You don’t make me uncomfortable.”
Sunoo smiled, slow and genuine, like someone easing into sunlight.
Jake looked away.
From across the room, Jay watched them quietly, sipping from his water again. He felt the tension that had been building all day finally crack, a small, delicate sound he could almost hear.
The evening moved in pockets of silence, broken only by casual chatter and the low murmur of a variety show on the TV. But Jay found himself watching them all. He saw Jake disappear into his room without a word, and then caught sight of Sunoo standing near the balcony door, fingers lightly pressed to the glass. His gaze followed something outside—streetlights, maybe—but Jay could tell he was distracted.
He looked like he wanted to move, like he wanted to speak.
But in the end, he didn’t.
Not yet.
Jay couldn’t sleep.
Not because of the heat or the dull ache in his legs—though those still clung to him—but because his thoughts wouldn’t soften. The stillness made them louder, looping until they blurred.
He eased out of bed, careful not to wake Jake, and wandered into the living room. The kitchen nightlight cast a soft golden glow across the floor. Just enough to catch the outline of someone curled on the couch.
Sunoo.
Hood up, blanket over his knees, both hands wrapped around a mug. His cheeks rounded as he sipped, warm mist brushing past his lashes. There was something almost disarming about how he looked right now, as if the late hour had smoothed away his usual energy.
Their eyes met without surprise. “Couldn’t sleep either?” came the soft question.
Jay shook his head and sat nearby, letting his body sink into the armchair. “Didn’t feel like being alone with my brain.”
A hum in reply, attention returning to the drink. The steam curled between them, catching on the faintest curve of a smile.
“You always drink tea when you can’t sleep?” he asked, nodding toward the mug.
Sunoo glanced at it, then back at him. “Mm… it helps sometimes.”
His gaze lingered on the way Sunoo blew gently on the surface, careful, like he was coaxing the warmth to stay. Without thinking, Jay smiled. “You kind of look like a kitten right now.”
A blink of confusion. “Huh?”
“All curled up in your blanket,” Jay said, the words slipping out before he could rethink them. “Taking tiny sips like you’re testing the temperature with your whiskers.”
Sunoo made a muffled sound—half laugh, half groan—and tugged the blanket higher, hiding most of his face. “You always say weird things like that…”
“And I’m always right,” he replied, still watching him.
Sunoo didn’t answer, just peeked over the rim of his mug, eyes catching the dim light. The smile there was small but certain.
And in Jay’s chest, that familiar pull returned—stronger now, threaded with something he’d stopped trying to push down.
Jay had told himself the stillness would help.
But even after the apartment lights dimmed and the faint hum of the night wrapped around him, he lay awake, one arm folded behind his head, the other draped over his stomach, eyes fixed on the dark.
Sunoo’s voice kept looping in his mind, light as steam off his tea: “You always say weird things like that…”
And with it, the picture came into focus, clear enough to make his chest tighten: the boy on the couch, half-hidden under a blanket, his cheeks flushed and his eyes catching the glow from the lamp.
Jay hadn’t meant to say it out loud. It just slipped—an observation, half-joking, half-true. But it fit too well. The way Sunoo moved when he was tired: reserved, folded in on himself, like something small and soft trying not to take up too much space. He was so easy to read, and still somehow so hard to reach.
He rolled onto his side—and froze.
Jake was asleep on the other mattress, back turned, steady in the dark.
A dull weight settled in Jay’s chest.
He hadn’t lied when he told Jake he wasn’t mad. But it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt a little. Watching someone else be the reason for a smile he used to know by heart. Watching Jake inch closer while Sunoo—sweet, unknowing Sunoo—kept letting him in without realizing how much space he was giving.
Jay had always told himself he could wait.
Letting people come to him in their own time—without pressure, without expectations—that was what he believed love was. Real love. The kind that didn’t need to be earned through grand gestures or constant reminders. Just… being there. Steady.
But lately, it hadn’t felt steady at all.
Every time Jake slipped behind Sunoo and wrapped his arms around him in a quiet backhug, holding on like he needed the warmth to keep himself steady, Jay felt his quiet patience twist into something sharper. It wasn’t anger exactly—more like the ache of watching someone else claim the space he wished was his.
He wanted to move. To stake a claim. To make it so obvious that Sunoo was his that Jake wouldn’t dare.
Instead—hesitation.
He told himself it wasn’t the right time. That Sunoo didn’t need the weight of someone else’s feelings dropped in his lap all at once. That Jake wasn’t trying to cause trouble, even if it sometimes felt that way.
More than that, he was waiting because he wanted to give his best friend a fair chance—a chance to face his own feelings without burden. He knew Jake struggled with confrontation, that rushing him wouldn’t help. So he held back, hoping Jake would find the courage to step forward first, even as the distance between them became harder to cross.
And yet… It was getting harder to believe his own excuses.
Because love was patience, yes—but wasn’t it also wanting?
And if he kept waiting, if he kept pretending time was on his side… would Sunoo even look back?
Jay exhaled through his nose, eyes pressing shut.
Without pressure. Without expectations. Those were the rules.
But rules had never felt so much like chains.
He pressed the heel of his palm over his eyes and let out a low, resigned laugh.
“This is a mess,” he muttered.
But even as he said it, the ache in his chest twisted into something hotter, something like resolve. Because if it was a mess, then at least it meant Sunoo mattered enough to fight for.
Tomorrow, he’d keep it easy, keep it light.
But he will make sure Jake would feel it. The shift. The edge.
And maybe, if Jay was lucky, Sunoo would, too.