Chapter Text
Yeosang isn’t replying to Seonghwa's texts.
They had a talk in the past about keeping their notifications on when it comes to the other members’ chats so they don't get worried about each other. Ever since then, messages from each other have been replied to as soon as possible. Yeosang is an airhead most of the time, but he respects that rule religiously.
However, when it so happens that he doesn't want to talk to one of them, he leaves them on ‘seen’. It's enough to keep Seonghwa from worrying about him while also letting him know that he's upset. His heart clenches tight.
Mingi is discussing lyric writing with Faust, while Alec and Vivi are exchanging concert stories with San, and Seonghwa has been on the outskirts of both conversations, drifting in between them. Each time, he was welcomed and included, yet he wasn't able to find his place, and he didn't want the rain cloud that had loomed above his head for the entirety of today to darken everyone else's good mood. He found himself reflecting on everything that happened, and belatedly came to the conclusion that he’d been an absolute jerk to Yeosang. And on top of that, instead of dropping the hoodie and leaving, like he’d planned, he ended up staying and spending time with the band. Something that he should have seen, should have known that Yeosang wanted to do.
So he texted him and asked him if he and Yunho would like to come over. Seen. Then, Seonghwa texted Yunho.
Yunhogizer 🐶
He doesn't want to, hyung
He’s obviously upset but he keeps saying he's not
Ddeonghwa 🌟
it's my fault
i’m coming over
He apologized to Yeosang, but apologies over text could come off as lacking genuineness. No, Seonghwa needs to do it in person.
Awkwardly, he excuses himself, thinking that no one would really care that he's going away, but the three actually look sorry to see him go, and they assure him that he can come by whenever he likes. They all fist bump him. Mingi and San tell him they’ll go back soon too and playfully threaten to beat him up if he locks the dorm room.
He gets back inside through the living room, and almost jumps out of his skin when he sees you lying on the couch. You're on your back, phone on your chest and your head turned at an angle that tells him that you probably didn't intend to fall asleep. He feels a pang of guilt; if not for them showing up, you'd have been able to lay down properly and sleep. The thin blanket on the couch is thrown in a heap on the floor next to it, yet you’re curled up into yourself as if you're cold. On impulse, he grabs the blanket and gently lays it out over your body. You shift in your sleep, but this doesn't wake you.
However, when he sneaks through the small space between the table and the couch, his clothes rustle, and your eyes open, alert.
“Hm?” you say, clearly disoriented. “Paul?”
“He’s not here yet,” Seonghwa says. “It’s just me. I’m sorry for waking you.”
You smile softly, rising up in a seating position and undoing Seonghwa's work with the blanket, which you hadn't realized had slipped in the first place. “It’s okay. I wasn't sleeping deeply.” You're actually not sure how you fell asleep at all; this hardly ever happens to you. Usually it takes you a long time to convince your brain that it's time to sleep, no matter how tired you are. Seonghwa nods, a little awkward, and lingers for a moment. “Did everyone go to bed?” you ask him, checking the time on your phone.
“No,” he replies. “Just me.”
The awkwardness is a little easier to handle now, compared to how your earlier conversation with him went, but there's still some left. “Has something happened?” you ask, sobering up a little more. You know that your friends don't have the best filter, and you’re afraid that they might have unintentionally said something that upset him.
“No, they're great, I…” He takes a deep breath. He could use some advice. And your expression is kind, open, understanding. You may not have joined them outside, but based on what the Cactuses said about you, and on what he himself has gathered from the unreserved kindness you showed him, you’re soft-hearted yet quick and pragmatic. “Doctor-nim, did you mean it when you said…” he mumbles in Korean, shy at first.
“Hm?”
You don't rush him, yet he still blushes at the slip-up, and struggles a little when it comes to wording his thoughts in the intermediary language between the two of you. He’s gotten better at speaking English, but he still has a difficult time sometimes. And you're here speaking it like it's second nature to you. Maybe one day he’ll dare to ask you how you learned so well. “You said… I’m thinking— I was thinking,” he corrects, “when you told me that everything we tell you will be kept… between us…”
Understanding what he means, you put an end to his struggling. “Of course I meant it,” you say, gentle but firm. You make sure to hold his eyes when you say it, wanting him to believe you wholly. “You can tell me what's wrong, if you want. Nothing leaves this room.” He nods, and you know that he believes you. The atmosphere between you having become a little lighter, you pat the spot next to you.
He takes your invitation, but sits a little further, on the couch’s arm. He doesn't face you, a tiny frown of concentration appearing between his brows as he tries to word the problem. You notice him absentmindedly touching his arm, where he was scratched. He’s wearing long sleeves now.
You haven't seen the spot, and you’re not sure how badly that girl managed to hurt him. Those nails did look sharp, and you can't exclude the fact that a small scratch or two might still be present on his skin. Not enough to cause any physical damage, not the kind that lasts, but in cases like this, the mental impact is harsher.
“Is it about earlier?” you ask testingly, gentle enough to assure him of the fact that he can always back away.
Seonghwa shakes his head. “No… these faded.” He toys with the hem of his sleeve, pondering his next actions, and decides to pull it up and show you his arm. You don't touch him. It's true, his skin is smooth and free of any marks. “I’m sure it was an accident,” he brushes off. “I shouldn't… think too much about it.”
“It’s okay if you do, Seonghwa,” you say gently.
“I didn't talk so much with her,” he says quietly. “Maybe—”
Anger flashes through you. You don't let him finish that sentence. “Seonghwa, please look at me.” Startled, he turns his head. A shiver passes through both of you as his lost eyes meet the certainty in yours. You shift a little closer to him. “It’s not your fault. She never should have touched you without your permission. She never should have tried to hold you back when you wanted to leave.”
“I know,” he replies, barely above a whisper. He doesn't know what's happening, or why the heavy words are coming out so easily in a foreign language, but he can't stop the flood, and you’re listening to him intently as if there's nothing else you'd rather do. “But whenever things like this happen, I ask myself if I could have done anything to stop them. If I’d have dressed differently. If I’d have acted differently, if I'd have...c”
“You can't know that,” you say, a shadow crossing your face. You’ve had the same thought many times before, and tortured yourself by making up scenarios in your head. “What other people do and feel is not your responsibility, and it's out of your control. Do I want to shake her and tell her to get a life? Of course. Would she understand her mistake if I did? That, I don't know. And it's frustrating, and terrible and fucking baffling, the fact that we as a society have gotten to the point where some people forget about common decency…” You take a breath. “But I digress. I’m sorry.”
You can't decipher the look in Seonghwa's eyes, and you barely manage to stifle a gasp when his hand comes to rest above yours. Slowly, tentatively, you move around in his hold so you can give him a reassuring squeeze. His breath catches. “You aren't wrong,” he says, a wistful laugh on his lips. “Society really is…” He says a word in Korean that you assume is a curse.
“Yeah,” you laugh softly. “I couldn't have said it better.”
“Thank you,” he says softly. But the look in his eyes, as well as the way he’s still holding onto your hand, tell you that there's more under the surface.
“Is there something else bothering you, Seonghwa?”
Distantly, Seonghwa is surprised at his own acceptance of you calling him by his name without any honorifics. He tries to guess how old you are and can't; you’re certainly in your twenties or older if he bases his guess on your profession. And it's strange, because he’s always been good at telling other people's ages, but with you, his detector is malfunctioning. Maybe it's your eyes, the way you care, the way you seem to treasure the trust he's giving you, or simply the energy you radiate. He tells you. “It’s Yeosang. I was brief with him earlier, and I upset him.”
Something sad crosses your face, but Seonghwa can feel that you're not judging him. “I see.”
“He offered to come with me,” he continues. “Earlier. I couldn't tell that he really wanted to, and I said no, because I thought he just wanted to support me, and I… didn't need that at the moment.”
You frown, confused. “To support you? What for?”
Seonghwa flushes and pulls his hand away. It returns to his lap, and he starts absently toying with his sleeve again. “You,” he says.
His voice is an octave deeper than usual, and it makes your heart jump. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you curse your stupid, expressive face for never learning how to hide. But Seonghwa doesn't seem to notice. Slightly strangled, you ask, “Am I that scary?”
“A bit,” he jokes. “But it's in a good way.” Feeling a little lighter, you laugh too, and allow him a reprieve so he can get back on track with his thoughts. “I was surprised. And embarrassed. And thankful, and scared. And I felt so stupid for not being able to talk to you earlier, at the elevator.” To say that you're surprised is an understatement. Not that he felt all those things, even though you haven't really expected him to care so much, but by the fact that he’s standing here in front of you and admitting to it so blatantly.
“It’s okay. I'm a bit lost when talking to strangers too,” you downplay it. You can only imagine what went through his head, especially after that happened with that fan— 'is she a fan too? What kind of fan? Is she trying to mock me with this, or just get close to me?'
Seonghwa meets your eyes and gives you a shy smile. “We’re not strangers now.”
“I—” you duck your head, shy. “Okay.” He watches you. Many people have blushed in front of him, because of his closeness, because of his words. He can't quite pinpoint what’s different this time, with you. Maybe it's simply the fact that he’s feeling a warmth of his own. You remain quiet for a long moment, and then raise your eyes again. “I’m sure Yeosang will understand if you talk to him.”
“I know that,” Seonghwa says. “And I will, I just…” He lets out a small, wistful laugh. “I called him a fool for always keeping his head down when other people are mean to him and discredit him. And I promised to always defend him, but… this time, I’m the one who hurt him. I didn't see that he was looking forward to talking with you guys, but he was too scared to do it on his own.”
“Seonghwa, it's okay to make mistakes. You're already on the right track with this. Look, it's not that late. If he's up and he still wants to, you can tell him to join us. He's Vivi’s favorite, you know? I’m not sure if she told you by now.”
Seonghwa brightens. “Not in these exact words, but she did, actually.” The happiness only lingers briefly on his face, though, replaced by an almost melancholic laugh. “He won't want to come, though. I know him.”
You’re deep in thought for a moment. And maybe the jet lag has affected you more than you thought, because you hear yourself suggesting, “I can try and help you convince him, if you want.”
You expect an immediate and awkward rejection, but his eyes glint, and it looks a lot like hope. “You’d like that?”
“I promised you I'd be here when you need me, didn't I?”
Seonghwa still hesitates for a moment, as if afraid that he's bothering you. God. You lift yourself up from your seat and give him a warm smile. "Tell you what," you say, "I'll go to the bathroom to freshen up. I'll be out in..." you check the clock on your phone, then show it to him so he can see the time. "...four minutes. If you're still here by the time I'm back, I'll go with you. If not, it's totally okay, alright?"
Seonghwa softens, pleased and relieved at seeing you taking control of the conversation this way. "Alright," he replies.
You give him a final smile, and turn to him one last time, "Oh, and Seonghwa?"
You can swear that his breath catches. "Y—yes?"
"Make up your mind fast," you say, just a tad playful. "I make a habit out of being... very... punctual."
You disappear into the bathroom, freshen up, and surely enough, precisely four minutes later, you emerge. He's still right where you left him, and he gives you a broad smile, his shyness from earlier forgotten. It's your turn to be slightly breathless. "Let's go?"