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Zihao might’ve acted a little silly sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind or somewhere in the furthest parts of his body that Xinlong was going to make it into this final group.

But when seven rolled past and it was Sanghyeon, six was Leo, five was Jiahao, and four was Geonwoo, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Xinlong had it in him, he always had and he always would, no matter what happened on that stage today or yesterday or four weeks ago. But for Xinlong to jump up again felt unlikely. Maybe he’d skate by in eighth, there was no way he wouldn’t place at all. 

Zihao would turn to the guys beside him each time they started to call out another name, looking to see if maybe they knew more than he did about who might be next, but they didn’t. They never did. When Yunseo patted him on the shoulder, it felt like he knew something. Zihao couldn’t imagine what he knew, but it was there. It was something besides crossed fingers and mutterings of the same few words over and over under hushed breaths, words Zihao had practically learned to pray out in the moments he’d had to learn them.  

Xinlong next. 

Please.

Xinlong had told him a little bit about Yunseo, not a whole lot, but enough for Zihao to feel something special about it. Xinlong, without even knowing it necessarily or meaning to have done so, had taken what Zihao did for him and passed it onto someone else who needed it. He had never been sure he’d done enough, protected Xinlong from enough, but seeing him take on the same role he did and doing exactly what he did, maybe he’d done exactly what he had needed to do all of this time. 

“The trainee coming in third place is… He Xinlong, congratulations!”

Zihao was almost sure he heard it wrong the first time, but then he looked over, he saw it. He saw the way Xinlong crumbled to the floor and he knew he had. He knew this was happening because it had to be. Zihao knew it had to happen eventually. 

The feeling hit him like a wave: no warning, abrupt, all of a sudden entirely there, almost alarmingly present. But there was no way for him to convey how proud he was, how long he’d been waiting for Xinlong to have a moment like this, all to himself, all of the glory he deserved times ten. All of that work, all of it for this very moment, for Zihao to watch his brother walk up to that podium and put his words together like they were shattered pieces of a mirror, never perfectly fitting together, but always casting a reflection back to him. He could see it in his eyes, he knew it was there.

It had been there the whole time. 

He knew it, rather well, he'd felt it not ten minutes prior when Jiahao heard his name be called, but this time it was worse. This time he felt he couldn’t hold himself back from it anymore. This time it was here and it would hurt and he felt it burning in his chest already. 

The tears stung at first, when he started to cry. He wasn’t even sure why he was crying, he didn’t even know why he cried for Jiahao either but this, this was different. This filled his entire body with something, both good and bad and painful in his shaking hands and painful behind his ribs to breathe and… god, if anything at all, it was pride.

Zihao firmly believed that everyone was deserving of having a Xinlong in their life, and now, Xinlong wasn’t his secret anymore. The world could know more about him, separate from when he debuted so young, hear about him now, as a 20 year old. Just like Zihao had taken in a little piece of Xinlong the moment they met, everyone else, now too, could do just that. He could share himself with the world in a way only someone like him could. 

He could barely pull himself together, watching each person called walk up and join his best friend sitting higher and higher at the top of those stairs. It was Anxin, it was Sangwon, it was Junseo.

But it was always Xinlong. It would always be Xinlong. 

He wasn’t even sure how long had passed, him sitting there, trying to hold back his tears, smiling because he meant it, looking up at Xinlong standing there, proud almost like a parent. He didn’t even care to be up there with him, it was just that he was up there. He’d done it. 

A promise they’d never fulfill, now left on the floor with the confetti, broken but unwavering still. It pooled at their feet, or maybe it floated into the air they breathed in. It was there, somewhere; Zihao felt it around him, that familiar sort of warm feeling that carried with in an err of nostalgia or comfort, but also a longing for something that he couldn’t put his finger on. 

When things came to a conclusion, Zihao’s body almost developed a mind of its own. It knew what to do, where to go.

And it seemed Xinlong did too, pointing over at him, walking through every other person there and not saying much of a word, and it felt like a finale. The whole show had been a finale, yes, but this, this was a finale for the two of them, right where they’d hoped it would happen. It might not have gone exactly how they wanted it to, but they were here, now, and that was what mattered. 

Zihao hit a little too hard when he pulled Xinlong in, practically colliding with his chest, but it didn’t matter. Xinlong didn’t flinch, pulled him in like he might slip out of his grasp if he didn’t hold on tight enough. And Zihao held him, too, like he always had and always hoped to. 

It felt like forever ago - so far ago that he wondered if Xinlong even remembered it - that the two of them were kids blowing out candles on a birthday cake. And it was Zihao’s, but Xinlong blew them out before he was even able to think about doing so. And sure, no one likes when the kid in the room blows your candles out, but Zihao? Zihao didn’t mind.

Sometimes kids just need to have moments like that, so they can remember them in moments like this. So he smiled over at Xinlong, whose face was practically glowing with not-my-birthday birthday excitement. And Xinlong smiled back at him. 

He remembered it, when Xinlong asked him last where he thought he’d been in ten years, not all that long ago, and he responded with, “By your side.” And he meant it. He’d be on Xinlong’s side until the day he died. If there was ever an argument, he’d be on Xinlong’s side. If Xinlong was ever sad, Zihao would always be there to make sure he felt better as quickly as he could. If Xinlong was ever angry at someone, Zihao was right there behind him to stand up for him. If Xinlong ever needed a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on or a person to hug, Zihao was there. 

No one else in the group had felt like they did. There were dozens of other guys who had friends from groups before this there with them, guys they were surely close to, but none of them stuck like Zihao did to Xinlong. 

And he thought about those words he wrote, the “I hate you so much, so don’t come back and just debut in Korea,” and he worried, maybe for just a moment, that Xinlong had taken his words for something other than humour, a genuine distaste at the hands of a man who so strongly cared for him. It wrecked him to think about it, the idea of something, anything, hurting him like that. 

All that the two of them had lived through, it all brought them right here, to this very moment on this very stage.

“Remember when we were little and you blew out my birthday candles?” Zihao asked him, trying to get him laugh a little. He always wanted that, seeing Xinlong cry gave him a feeling in his body that made him feel like he was going to throw up. It made him feel like he had to do something, except, what could he do now? 

Xinlong laughed along with him, at least for a moment, before falling back into crying quite quickly again. 

“Don’t bring that up right now~” Xinlong whined. “God, we were just kids. Look where we are now.”

“Look where you are now, Xinlong. Everyone loves you,” Zihao pointed out, nodding against his shoulder to further push the point in. 

“I’m sorry it’s not both of us,” Xinlong told him, just him. Zihao didn’t know why he would say such a thing. That didn’t matter, look at him. Zihao almost had it in him to laugh. 

“Who are you kidding? Fuck that, it’s you!” he responded, smiling so much he was sure Xinlong could feel it against his neck. He wasn’t sure he could tell if he was crying or if he was laughing. Maybe it was both, it felt like both. “You did it, Xinlong. It’s always been you, you’ve always done it.” 

The two of them wouldn’t let go, couldn’t let go. At least, Zihao couldn’t let go. If he let go, what if Xinlong slipped away. What if this time it was for good? What if Zihao was running out time, and this was the final seconds he had left? Letting go would be final. It would mean changing things, and it would mean he'd have to leave Xinlong sooner and that in itself was terrifying. 

And so, they let it happen. They stood, they said not much of anything. Zihao echoed as many “I’m so proud of you”’s as he could manage to get out, and Xinlong would get bored of it but at least he’d hear it said again and take it in, store it away for when he might need those extra ones more.

“Don’t go too far, okay?” he found the words to ask, still unmoving, unwavering against Zihao’s hold on him. Zihao nodded against his shoulder again, rubbing his hair against the material of Xinlong's jacket. The pressure of it all felt somewhat relieving, like he'd be able to remember it years from now when Xinlong would call him and they'd catch up about everything going on with Boy Story and everything going on with Alpha Drive One. It'd feel weird, but Zihao would bring it up and they'd laugh about it. Zihao would remind him, again, how proud of him he was, and Xinlong might roll his eyes but he'd smile back at him, almost running out of those very sentiments Zihao had given him today. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Zihao insisted, holding him just a little tighter. “You’ll always know where to find me.”