Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

⸻

The dorm was quiet, still vibrating with the aftershock high of the concert. The van ride back had been filled with the usual post-stage buzz—half-mumbled conversations, scattered laughter, Heeseung humming the chorus of their last song under his breath while Jake nudged him for the hundredth time to rest his voice. But now, in the thick silence of the night, fatigue had finally won.

Sunoo stepped out of the shower, steam curling around his ankles like a gentle ghost. The concert had drained him, the dancing, the fan service, the emotions, all of it. His muscles ached in the satisfying way they always did after a good performance. He patted his face dry and reached for his toner, dragging slow cotton pads under his eyes. Routine calmed him, even when his thoughts didn’t.

He moved through his skincare like muscle memory, essence, ampoule, moisturizer, each step soothing, but not enough to distract him completely. His brain still hummed. Not from adrenaline, not from nerves—just…the tiredness.

He sat on his bed afterward, wet hair falling into his eyes. He flipped open his laptop and clicked on the drama he’d been watching. Something romantic and ridiculous. The kind where people confess their love in the rain and sleep in the same bed after a mix-up. Something he’d usually scream at the screen for, all giggles and sarcasm.

Tonight, he just watched quietly. Hoping to fall asleep soon.

The soft glow of the screen painted his room in warm tones, but his body remained stubbornly awake. He turned over. Turned back. Tried lying on his stomach. Fixed his pillows.

It was no use.

With a groan, he rolled out of bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen, fingers combing through his damp hair. Maybe a drink would help. Something warm.

The fridge light was already on.

He blinked, surprised and nearly jumped when a figure moved by the fridge.

“Jesus,” Sunoo hissed, hand flying to his chest. “You scared me.”

Ni-ki looked up, backlit by the fridge light. His hair was messy, and he was holding a carton of milk like it was the holy grail. “Hyung. You scared me. Why are you creeping around in the dark like that?”

“I wasn’t creeping, I live here.” Sunoo huffed, rubbing his arm. “You’re not even supposed to be in this dorm.”

Ni-ki didn’t respond immediately. He just looked… tired. More than usual. The soft, rumpled look of someone who hadn’t planned on being awake this late either.

“I was gonna sleep upstairs, in my room,” he finally said, shutting the fridge. “But Jake and Heeseung are…loud.”

Sunoo blinked.

Ni-ki raised his brows. “Loud.”

“Oh.” Sunoo paused. “Oh. Ew.”

Ni-ki nodded like a man traumatized.

“Jay’s in Jungwon’s room,” he continued. “And Sunghoon’s passed out in Jake’s bed. So.” He gestured with his milk. “Couch.”

Sunoo tilted his head, considering. “That’s dumb. You can’t sleep on the couch. It sucks.”

“Better than Jake’s floor. It gives mad carpet burn and Sunghoon took all the blankets.”

Sunoo bit back a laugh. “Still. It’s not like—just—” He hesitated, voice softening. “You can sleep in my room, we can share my bed. If you want.”

Ni-ki’s brows shot up, shocked.

The silence stretched.

Sunoo felt it too. The weight of what wasn’t said. The memories hanging between them like soft threads, like the corners of blankets never quite tucked in.

It had been a long time since Ni-ki had slept in his room.

Years ago, it had been an almost-nightly thing. A quiet voice. A shy, mumbled “Hyung, can I?” And Sunoo would scoot over automatically, already making space. No questions. No shame.

Just warmth.

Ni-ki was still staring at him.

Sunoo looked down. “It’s okay, you don’t have to. Just offering.”

“No, it’s not, I just—” Ni-ki shifted his weight. “It’s been a while.”

“I know.”

There was a beat. Then Ni-ki gave a small smile, like an apology. “I’ll take the couch. But thanks.”

Sunoo nodded. “Okay. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

He turned and padded back to his room, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against it for a second, exhaling.

He shouldn’t feel like this. Like he’d reached for something already lost.

Back in bed, he pulled his blanket up to his chest and stared at the ceiling. The faint sounds of the city outside were familiar, but not comforting. He closed his eyes, but sleep still wouldn’t come.

All he could think about was the past.

When Ni-ki was fifteen and stubborn. When he hated bugs and loved microwaved strawberries. When he’d sleep in Sunoo’s bed during storms, after hard days, or just for no reason and never explained why, just curled up with his body pressed to Sunoo’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He used to smell like vanilla and lavender shampoo. Used to sleep like a starfish and complain about Sunghoon’s snoring in the morning. Used to stay up whispering until one of them fell asleep mid-sentence.

Used to.

Sunoo curled in tighter, a lump forming in his throat.

He missed it. Missed him. The him from back then. Or maybe he just missed the version of himself who still had Ni-ki close, before all the growth spurts and distance and quiet misunderstandings.

'I wish I could go back', he thought.

"If I could turn back time, I'd do everything in my power, to keep us together." He muttered.

And then, somehow, he fell asleep.

⸻

It was the quiet that woke him.

Not the kind of quiet you get in the city. Not the low hum of traffic or the buzz of old wiring. No, this was… stillness. A strange, eerie calm.

Sunoo groaned, rubbing his face, and rolled over—

And paused.

His sheets felt different. Stiffer. The air smelled faintly like the old detergent they used to use, lemony and overly strong. His pillow was… too flat.

He sat up slowly.

And froze.

This wasn’t his room.

This was the room.

The old one. The one they all used to share when they were rookies. Bunk beds stacked like puzzle pieces, clothes hung over bedposts, a small whiteboard by the door with schedules written in messy handwriting.

His heart pounded.

‘No.’

‘No way.’

His gaze darted around wildly. His fingers gripped the blanket. He looked down at himself, an old pajama set but the layout, the scent, the air—

He turned to his side.

There was an extra pillow there.

That same pillow. The one he’d always wake up next to, telling him without words that Ni-ki had snuck in his bed during the night. That he hadn’t been alone.

He swallowed, mouth dry.

He reached out, hesitated, then touched the pillow.

It was warm.

‘What is happening?’

Footsteps.

His head jerked up, eyes wide.

The door opened.

And in walked a boy.

Shorter. Messier. Blonde hair a little too long, face rounder, pajamas slightly oversized.

Fifteen-year-old Nishimura Riki was staring at him.

“Hyung, breakfast. Come on.”

Sunoo stared at him like a ghost.

Ni-ki frowned, confused. “Why do you look like that?”

Sunoo’s breath caught in his throat.

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Could barely breathe.

Because that was him.

The Ni-ki from the past.

The one who used to grab his wrist to drag him to the kitchen. The one who used to fall asleep next to him and tease him every waking second. The one who hadn’t yet pulled away.

His Riki.

He’s here.

⸻

Chapter Text

⸻

“Hyung, breakfast. Come on.”

The voice echoed in his head again, light and teasing, unburdened by anything heavier than hunger.

Sunoo blinked hard.

Riki was standing in the doorway. Not the Ni-ki he’d seen just hours ago in the kitchen—taller, broader, quieter—but Riki. With his round cheeks, messy hair, oversized shirt. Still fifteen. Still soft. Still here.

And alive with the sort of warmth that time hadn’t dulled yet.

Sunoo’s throat was so tight he couldn’t speak.

Riki’s brow furrowed. “Why do you look like that, you okay?” he asked, stepping forward. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I—no, I’m fine,” Sunoo managed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just tired.”

“You always say that.” Riki rolled his eyes but grinned. “I’m saving a spot next to me. And an extra pancake, but only if you hurry.”

Sunoo’s heart clenched. That voice. That smile. That care.

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll be right there. Just gonna wash up real quick.”

Riki nodded and disappeared down the hallway.

The door shut, and Sunoo was alone again.

He bolted out of bed and rushed into the tiny bathroom, clicking on the fluorescent light overhead. His hand gripped the edge of the sink as he stared into the mirror.

There he was.

Seventeen-year-old Kim Sunoo.

His face was rounder, cheeks a little plumper, eyes a little less tired. No eye bags. No sleepless nights from back-to-back world tours. No month long burnouts. No burned threads of friendship he didn’t know how to hold onto.

Just him, untouched by time.

His heart pounded. He reached up to touch his cheek, breath shaking as his fingers met skin that hadn’t yet learned what future emotional burdens felt like.

He looked like he did back when Ni-ki used to crawl into his bed and fall asleep with one hand curled around Sunoo. When the nights were filled with whispered jokes and dreams. When their friendship had been the kind of closeness that didn’t need to be spoken out loud to be understood.

He blinked rapidly, and the tears finally broke through.

Sunoo didn’t sob. It wasn’t loud. But his shoulders curled inward, and his face crumpled, and the kind of sound that only ever escapes in private left his lips.

Because now he knew.

He knew what came next.

How they’d grow up and grow apart.

How the hugs would get shorter, the conversations more forced, the inside jokes would die out without either of them noticing until it was too late.

He knew the weight Ni-ki would grow into. How he’d stretch into someone taller than everyone, deeper-voiced, a little colder, a little less reachable. How Sunoo would mourn it quietly. Would cry alone sometimes, when no one else noticed, over something as simple as not being the person Ni-ki came to anymore.

But now…

Now Riki was here. This version of him. The one who still saved food for Sunoo. The one who called his name like it meant something sacred.

Sunoo sniffled, gripping the sink tighter. His reflection blurred.

This is a second chance.

He didn’t know how or why.

But it was real. Or it felt real enough to matter.

He wiped his face. Washed away the tears with cold water until his eyes weren’t red anymore. Patted his cheeks, straightened his shirt.

And smiled at himself—forced, but determined.

He had work to do.

⸻

The sound of laughter hit him first when he stepped out of the bathroom.

It wrapped around him like a warm blanket—the soft murmur of voices layered over the clink of dishes and the sizzling of something on the stove. He followed the scent of pancakes down the hallway and turned into the small kitchen-dining area.

And froze.

There they were.

All of them.

Younger. Brighter.

Jungwon sat at the table, rosy-cheeked and sleepy-eyed, still in his pajamas, hair sticking up at odd angles. Sixteen years old and months into being the newly appointed leader, still figuring out how to balance authority and friendship. He was laughing at something Jay had said.

Jay, who stood by the stove, flipping pancakes like he’d been born for it. The way he used to cook in their rookie days. Before exhaustion made it a rare occurrence. Back when feeding the group was something that brought him joy instead of something he had scheduled in once a month between practices and adulting, when they had time off.

Sunoo’s breath caught.

He’d forgotten how soft Jay looked when he was focused on others. How his crush on Jungwon used to sit just below the surface, visible in every glance, every plate handed over with too much care.

He watched as Jay placed a perfectly golden pancake on Jungwon’s plate.

“Made that one extra fluffy,” Jay said casually.

Jungwon’s ears turned red. “I—thanks.”

Sunoo felt his heart squeeze. He remembered thinking how obvious Jay was. How sad it was that Jungwon would never notice.

Except—he had.

Even back then, Jungwon had felt it too. He just didn’t know what to do with it. Not with the weight of leadership on his shoulders and the entire group’s dreams balanced in his hands.

Sunoo turned his gaze, breath hitching.

Jake and Sunghoon were sitting side by side, eating and laughing. The comfort in their body language was immediate. Natural. They were shoulder-to-shoulder, like magnets, like they’d never known how to not be close.

Sunoo remembered the endless teasing the group used to throw their way. Questioning how close they actually were.

Sunoo followed Jake’s gaze, only to find Heeseung across the room—pretending to scroll through his phone, but watching Jake when he thought no one would notice.

Sunoo’s heart twisted.

Even back then, Heeseung looked at Jake like that. Like the sun shined just a little brighter where Jake stood. But Heeseung had always kept it quiet, assuming Jake’s bond with Sunghoon meant something more and his feelings were unrequited.

He thought Jake would never notice.

And maybe… at the time, he hadn’t.

Sunoo looked at Heeseung longer, remembering their own closeness once upon a time. The quiet conversations after practice. The way Heeseung used to check if he was eating enough, used to walk next to him on their way back from late-night schedules. It hadn’t faded because of anything bad.

They had just changed.

That kind of grief was quiet. Like noticing one day that your favorite song didn’t sound the same anymore.

He scanned the room again—

And his breath left him.

There.

Sitting at the edge of the table, a plate with two pancakes in front of him, was Ni-ki.

He was smiling so big it hurt.

His hands waved when he saw Sunoo, practically bouncing in his seat. His eyes were so bright.

Sunoo took a step forward, eyes stinging.

“Hyung!” Ni-ki called. “I saved the seat next to me.”

Sunoo didn’t think—he ran.

A full sprint down memory lane.

He came to a stop beside Riki and dropped into the seat. His cheeks were stretched so wide from smiling, he thought his face might crack.

Ni-ki pushed the extra pancake toward him. “I told you I’d save it.”

“I know,” Sunoo said softly. “You always do.”

Ni-ki blinked. “You’re being weird today.”

Sunoo just laughed. His hands trembled slightly as he picked up his fork.

He looked at Ni-ki again—really looked. Every childlike feature that time had slowly taken. The fullness in his cheeks. The rounded jaw. The way his eyes crinkled in a way that hadn’t yet hardened into sarcasm or stoicism.

He was still the same height as Sunoo.

Not the tallest in the group. Not yet.

His voice was still high.

Not the deep baritone that surprised everyone when he grew up.

He was just Riki. Just a kid. Just Sunoo’s best friend.

And he was right here.

“Thanks for the pancake,” Sunoo said, voice catching.

“You’re welcome.” Ni-ki grinned, then whispered, “Don’t tell Jungwon, but I think I stole the biggest one that Jay made for him.”

Sunoo laughed, teary-eyed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

The kitchen buzzed around them.

Jungwon and Jay bickered playfully.

Sunghoon handed Jake a juice box and teased him about acting like a baby.

Heeseung mumbled something sarcastic, probably a dad joke under his breath and got a chorus of groans in return.

And Sunoo just sat there, drinking it all in.

This life. This moment. This group of boys—his family—before they were worn down by industry pressure and adult responsibilities. Before things were complicated and busy and cold.

Here, in this moment, everything was soft.

Everything was warm.

Everything was the way it used to be.

And beside him, Riki was real.

Smiling. Talking. Eating his pancakes too fast. Giggling when syrup got on his chin.

Sunoo wiped it away without thinking, then paused. His fingers lingered.

“You’re real,” he whispered, barely audible.

Ni-ki blinked. “Duh?”

Sunoo swallowed.

If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

⸻

Sunoo couldn’t stop staring.

He tried. He really did. He even told himself to act normal, not to draw attention, not to scare anyone—or worse, break the illusion. But every time he looked away, his eyes drifted right back to Ni-ki.

To Riki.

And Riki… well, he didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy devouring the pancake in front of him, syrup on the corner of his mouth, grinning between bites like a puppy who’d just gotten a treat.

Sunoo thought he might cry again.

“You good?” came a voice to his left.

Sunoo startled. “Huh?”

It was Sunghoon, raising a skeptical brow as he buttered another pancake. “You’ve been staring at Ni-ki this whole time.”

The entire table turned their heads.

Jungwon looked over from where he was sipping juice, cheeks puffed.

Jake, mid-chew, blinked slowly.

Jay smirked.

Ni-ki finally paused, fork mid-air. “Huh? What?”

Sunoo’s ears turned red. “I wasn’t— I just…”

He cleared his throat, flustered. “I just like being with Riki, that’s all.”

Everyone blinked at him.

Ni-ki tilted his head, smiling. “Really?”

Sunoo nodded, trying to seem casual, but his voice was soft when he said again, “Yeah. I do.”

And no one at the table caught it—how Sunoo used his real name. How he was the only one who called him that, not “Ni-ki” like the others.

Just Riki.

And Riki noticed.

He didn’t say anything. He just beamed.

“Cute,” Jungwon muttered under his breath, glancing away with a small, fond smile.

“I mean,” Sunoo rushed, realizing the silence had stretched a little too long, “I like being with all of you. I’m just… really happy lately, I guess.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Okay, heartfelt moment at 8 a.m., let’s go.”

“Let him be,” Jake added, nudging Sunoo’s shoulder.

Sunoo laughed, heart feeling lighter.

He cleared his plate. Then he turned to Riki, who had just finished his last bite and was licking syrup off his thumb.

“You done?” he asked gently.

“Yup!” Riki chirped.

“Here, I’ll take it.”

Sunoo took Riki’s plate and stood, walking the dishes over to the sink. It was a small thing—but it made Riki’s heart stutter a little in his chest. He didn’t know why.

The others exchanged glances as Sunoo and Ni-ki walked away.

“I mean, he is acting a little more clingy today,” Jake whispered.

“Yeah but the other day, he literally bought Ni-ki a pack of strawberries and even microwaved them for him, he’s always clingy.” Sunghoon added.

“Wasn’t that because he lost a bet?” Jungwon asked.

“Nope,” Jay said. “He won that bet.”

“Oh,” Jungwon blinked. “That makes it worse.”

Jake leaned in. “You don’t think they’re like—”

Heeseung shook his head. “No way. Sunoo and Ni-ki? That’s just—” He paused. “…Wait.”

They all turned to look at Sunoo again. He was gently ruffling Ni-ki’s hair as they both walked back to the room, Sunoo saying something low and fond that made Ni-ki laugh until he nearly tripped on his own feet.

Sunghoon sighed. “Okay. Maybe they are.”

⸻

They prepped for their schedule quickly—outfits laid out, hair brushed. It was a promotional shoot, the camera team was strict about time.

As the group settled into the van to head to the studio, Sunoo found himself clinging close to Riki—more than he had in years. He adjusted Riki’s seatbelt for him without being asked. Fixed a loose thread on his sleeve. Let their knees press together in the backseat.

“Hyung,” Riki said, amused, “You’re really babying me today.”

Sunoo smiled. “Maybe I just missed this.”

“Missed what?”

Sunoo hesitated. “Us.”

Riki looked at him, puzzled, but didn’t question it further. He just leaned his head on Sunoo’s shoulder for the rest of the ride.

⸻

The shoot itself was exhausting, but Sunoo powered through it with practiced ease. He didn’t even have to think about poses, they came to him like instinct. Years of future experience built into his body like muscle memory. The staff complimented his poise and precision more than once.

Jungwon glanced over his shoulder toward Sunoo. “He just seems… different today.”

“More confident,” Jay agreed. “Did you see him during the duo shots? He took charge like it was nothing.”

Sunghoon nodded. “Yeah. He’s more sharper. More sure of himself. Almost like he’s already done it before.”

They all paused, momentarily puzzled by the thought.

Sunoo caught Riki watching him with wide eyes.

And he smiled every time.

He was trying, without being obvious, to stay close. To rebuild the warmth. To protect what they once had.

But the day ran long.

He knew what was coming. The whirlwind years ahead. The distance. The emotional fatigue. The feeling of being close to everyone but never quite enough.

But right now?

He felt weightless.

⸻

By the end of the shoot, they were all drained—but happy.

Everyone piled into the van back to the dorm, all except for Sunoo and Heeseung, who still had solo cuts to finish.

He wanted to go back with Riki.

Wanted to sit beside him, laugh over nothing, maybe sneak a nap on his shoulder. But he was stuck finishing up with Heeseung. And for the first time in years, he felt genuinely bitter about it.

They finished up their individual shoots quickly and went into the van together.

“You good?” Heeseung asked, adjusting his hood and watching him from his seat.

“Yeah,” Sunoo said, too quickly.

Heeseung gave him a look. The one he used to give during I-LAND whenever Sunoo was trying and failing to hide something.

It hit him like a wave—how long it had been since they’d had one of those talks. The kind where they stripped the stage personas and just… talked like teens again.

“You’ve been weird today,” Heeseung said as the van started.

“Weird how?”

“Clingy. With Ni-ki. Like…more than usual. You’ve always been close, but this morning was kind of next-level.”

Sunoo sighed, his stomach twisting. “I know. I just…”

They sat in silence for a moment, then Sunoo spoke up.

“I just really love him,” he said quietly. “And I wanna be with him as much as I can. While I can.”

Heeseung looked at him carefully. “While you can?”

Sunoo froze for half a second too long.

But then he recovered. “I just mean…time passes fast, you know? I don’t want to miss it.”

Heeseung didn’t push. He nodded, sitting beside him.

“I get that,” he said. “I mean… I wish I could be that close with Jake.”

Sunoo turned, surprised. “You’re not?”

Heeseung smiled—wry and small. “We’re close. But it’s weird. I don’t know if he sees me like that. He’s always with Sunghoon. They’ve got this thing—”

Sunoo’s heart bloomed with bittersweet warmth.

He knew this Heeseung. The one who quietly pined. The one who thought he’d never be enough for Jake because Jake’s attention was always split between the group and the endless chaos of their early years.

But Sunoo also knew what Jake felt.

He knew how, on Heeseung’s 22nd birthday, Jake would experience Heeseung’s confession that involved music metaphors, nearly dropping his phone into the Han River, and cake by the end of it. He knew how Heeseung would cry—not because of the anxiety induced from the confession, but because he finally could call Jake his.

He knew that right now, in the future, they were together for almost two years.

That they couldn’t go a day without calling each other.

That they would become the kind of love everyone had wished for—loud, soft, and sure.

But Sunoo didn’t say any of that.

Instead, he reached over and patted Heeseung’s shoulder. “You’ll be okay. You and Jake… you’re meant to find each other.”

Heeseung looked at him, surprised. “You think so?”

Sunoo smiled. “I know so.”

Heeseung smiled back, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Then I’m rooting for you and Ni-ki too.”

Sunoo froze.

His heart thudded painfully.

He looked away, his smile faltering.

Because that’s what no one knew.

There wasn’t a happy ending for him and Riki. Not in the world he came from.

There was distance. Growing pains. Silence where laughter used to be. And then just… nothing.

But maybe—just maybe—that’s what this was.

A chance to rewrite it.

To make the ending different.

He turned back to Heeseung, voice soft but sure. “Thanks, Hyung.”

Sunoo stared out the window.

The city blurred past, familiar but not. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the road.

And in his heart, a quiet promise bloomed.

If this was really a second chance…

He was going to make it count.

⸻

Chapter Text

⸻

At first, it felt perfect.

Better than perfect, even—surreal in a way that made Sunoo scared to blink in case it all vanished. Every moment with Ni-ki felt like being given a chance to breathe again after holding it in for years.

They clung to each other without shame.

Ni-ki curled up next to him during breaks, dozing off against Sunoo’s shoulder. He giggled when Sunoo brushed something from his hair, and he didn’t flinch when Sunoo called him by his real name. He seemed to like it, even—his eyes would soften just slightly every time Sunoo whispered “Riki,” like he was being seen for the first time in a long time.

And Sunoo was seeing him—really seeing him.

He remembered how close they’d once been. Ni-ki had used to follow him around like a shadow during the early days. If Sunoo was in the practice room, Riki was curled up in the corner, watching. If Sunoo said he liked strawberry milk, Riki bought two just to have one to give him.

“You’re really clingy this week,” Ni-ki muttered one night, his voice soft and teasing as they lay in the dorm’s shared living room, both curled up in the same oversized blanket.

Sunoo looked over. “I’ve missed this.”

Ni-ki blinked. “We hang out all the time.”

Sunoo smiled, eyes aching. “Not like this.”

Ni-ki didn’t ask what he meant.

He just smiled, tucked his arm under the blanket, and let their hands bump once, twice, before quietly intertwining their fingers. The gesture was small, almost unnoticeable, but it sent a jolt through Sunoo’s chest.

It wasn’t just that he missed this. It was that he knew it wouldn’t last.

Because no matter how tightly he held on—

He couldn’t stop what was coming.

They’d always been together.

Until they weren’t.

And now that Sunoo had somehow been dropped back into this moment, into this exact window of time, he realized something horrible.

He hadn’t gone far enough in time.

Not far enough to fix the real damage.

Because no matter how much Ni-ki smiled at him, no matter how close they sat or how much they laughed…

The comments were already there.

⸻

It started after one of their group lives. Something silly, casual—just the members playing games, eating snacks, teasing one another.

It was harmless.

At least it should’ve been.

But Sunoo had been stupid—he had opened the comments later. Just out of habit.

And there it was, like a punch to the gut.

Sunoo had stared at his phone, throat tightening.

He’d forgotten this part.

He’d forgotten how fast it started. How a few edits and misinterpreted interactions turned into a running narrative online. How once fans decided there was tension, it became the only thing they saw.

He remembered now.

Ni-ki had read the comments too. He didn’t say anything at the time—but Sunoo had noticed how he laughed less during lives. How he stopped leaning into Sunoo when the cameras were on. How he chose to stand next to others, how he kept one step of space between them in group shots.

Not always. But enough.

Enough that it chipped away at what they’d had.

And the worst part?

Perception had power.

Riki had thought he was the problem.

Sunoo hadn’t known it back then. But he saw it now—in the way Riki’s smiles were hesitant when they were live, how he overcorrected, making sure not to touch Sunoo too long, not to joke too harshly, not to linger on camera.

At the dorm, he was still himself. Still playful. Still Riki.

But even there… even now… Sunoo saw the hesitation creeping in.

He thought about the way things had gone before. How, slowly, almost imperceptibly, Riki had started hesitating around him. How he’d toned down their jokes, stopped clinging to Sunoo in public. How he’d retreated in the way a person does when they don’t feel safe to be themselves.

Because the world had convinced him that he was doing something wrong by being close to Sunoo.

And Sunoo understood now, in a way he hadn’t then.

Riki had never pulled away because he stopped caring.

He pulled away because he was scared.

Of hurting Sunoo.

Of hurting their group.

Of becoming someone people hated.

And it had crushed him.

Sunoo pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, trying to shut the memories out.

⸻

That night, the dorm was quiet.

The others had fallen asleep one by one, after hours of shooting and dance practice. The familiar chorus of soft breathing filled the room. Blankets rustled. Someone muttered in their sleep.

Sunoo sat up in bed slowly.

He looked to the other side of the room—at the bunk where Ni-ki slept now, instead of next to him.

Ni-ki had one leg sticking slightly out from under the blanket as he laid turned toward the wall, curled in on himself the way he always did when he wasn’t quite asleep but didn’t want to be bothered.

They used to share a bed without thinking. Curl up after practice, limbs tangled, falling asleep to whispered jokes and Sunoo brushing Ni-ki’s bangs from his face. It had been their unspoken thing.

But now—even in the quiet safety of the dorm—there was space between them.

Sunoo hadn’t even realized it was happening, back then. Not until it had already grown into something wider. Something that kept them apart even when they were sitting side by side.

And now, reliving it… he could feel it again.

Sunoo’s chest ached. It was happening again, wasn’t it?

Even with all his memories, even with all this knowledge… he still couldn’t stop it.

The ache of that same slow drift.

He told himself it was the comments. That it had to be. The hate. The misinterpretations. The fans who didn’t know them but still shaped how they acted—made Ni-ki scared to laugh with him the way he used to.

But late at night, when the world was quiet and the truth was too loud to ignore, Sunoo remembered something else.

Back then… he had doubted, too.

He had wondered if maybe Ni-ki wasn’t just pulling away because of the comments.

Maybe he was just… growing up.

They had debuted so young. They were still learning how to carry the weight of fame and find themselves in front of thousands, then millions. Sunoo had always known Ni-ki would mature faster than anyone else—he had to, to keep up.

But maybe somewhere along the way… Ni-ki had started to outgrow him.

That’s what Sunoo had believed back then. Quietly. Painfully. He had tried not to take it personally.

Maybe the jokes were too childish. Maybe the clinginess started to feel suffocating. Maybe Ni-ki had just needed space to become someone new. And maybe Sunoo wasn’t part of that anymore.

That thought had killed him once.

And now, even standing here with the knowledge of what comes next, it haunted him still.

Because what if he was wrong?

What if the comments weren’t the whole story?

What if Ni-ki had started drifting away on his own?

Sunoo blinked up at the ceiling, eyes burning with unshed tears. His fingers curled tightly in the blanket.

He didn’t know.

He would never know.

But even if that was the truth—even if Riki had been pulling away for reasons that had nothing to do with hate, or fans, or fear—Sunoo knew one thing for sure.

He wasn’t going to let it happen again without a fight.

If Riki was growing up, then Sunoo would grow with him.

If Riki needed more space, then Sunoo would stand beside him from just a step away.

If Riki changed, then Sunoo would learn to love every version of him.

He would adjust, and bend, and meet him in the middle—wherever that was.

Because losing Riki once had nearly broken him.

And now that he had him again—young and smiling, eyes still full of mischief and curiosity—Sunoo wasn’t going to take a single moment for granted.

Even if they didn’t end up the same as they once were.

Even if they became something entirely new.

He would take it.

He would take anything, aslong as Riki was still by his side.

Sunoo’s thoughts consumed him, he needed some air.

He slipped out of bed silently.

Unnoticed.

Or so he thought.

⸻

The balcony air was cooler than expected, sharp with the scent of the city life and night wind. It smelled exactly like it used to, and somehow not at all.

Sunoo leaned against the railing, arms folded, trying to steady his heartbeat.

How do you stop something that already started?

How do you make a child ignore the voices of a thousand faceless strangers?

He gripped the metal tighter.

What if I told everyone? he thought. What if I warned them? Showed them what the future becomes?

But then what? Who would believe him?

They were young. They wouldn’t understand. Even he didn’t fully understand what was happening to him.

Was this a dream? A miracle? A curse?

The sliding glass door opened behind him, breaking the silence like a ripple across still water.

He stiffened.

Footsteps padded closer.

“Hey.”

He turned slowly.

The voice was quiet, rough from sleep and something else. Something heavier.

Sunoo turned slightly. “Hey, Jungwon.”

Jungwon stepped out with slippers, arms crossed over his chest, his oversized sleep shirt wrinkled and slipping off one shoulder. He moved to stand beside Sunoo at the railing, staring out at the blur of Seoul below them.

“I heard you come out,” Jungwon said, stepping beside him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sunoo replied.

“Me either.”

Silence stretched between them, comfortable at first. Then it began to tighten, the kind of silence that carried the weight of words unsaid.

After a few beats, Jungwon spoke again.

“Ni-ki’s… been acting different lately.”

Sunoo’s stomach twisted. He didn’t respond, but the ache in his chest deepened.

Jungwon didn’t look at him. Just stared straight ahead.

“Especially around you. Like he’s trying too hard not to be close.“

Sunoo finally turned his head. Jungwon’s eyes were still on the city, but his expression was raw — tired, confused, burdened in a way that had nothing to do with the hour.

“He’s quieter now,” Jungwon continued. “Like he’s scared of saying the wrong thing. He doesn’t laugh as loudly when you joke. Doesn’t sit as close. I thought I was just overthinking it, but then…”

He paused. His voice dropped lower, barely audible over the wind.

“I saw the comments.”

Sunoo didn’t say anything. He just swallowed hard and looked down at his hands gripping the railing, white-knuckled.

“I should’ve stopped it,” Jungwon said. His voice trembled—barely, but it did.

“You can’t control everything,” Sunoo said gently.

“I should be able to,” Jungwon snapped, then winced at his own voice.

The word landed like a slap.

Jungwon said suddenly, voice shaking. “I should’ve said something earlier, or told the company, or told him not to read anything online at all. I should’ve done something. Because I’m the leader, right? That’s my job.”

Sunoo turned sharply. “Jungwon—”

“I’m supposed to protect you guys.” Jungwon’s voice cracked. “But I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time. We’re all just kids. You, me, Ni-ki — he just turned fifteen! We’re all so young and they expect us to carry a whole group, a whole brand, this was our dream but it’s so hard. And I’m the one who’s supposed to have it all together.”

He laughed bitterly. “Do I look like I have it all together?”

“Won—”

“And now Ni-ki’s pulling away from you and I know he’s hurting, I know he’s scared he’s going to ruin something. And you’re hurting too, I can tell. But neither of you say anything, and I’m just supposed to sit here and—”

He cut himself off suddenly, voice catching.

“And then there’s Jay—he just…”

Sunoo’s breath caught. He looked at Jungwon carefully, watching the younger boy’s face fall open for the first time in years.

Jungwon’s eyes widened a little, like he’d said too much. He looked down quickly, biting his lip.

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Jay?” Sunoo said softly.

“It’s not important,” Jungwon said quickly, trying to recover. “Forget it.”

But Sunoo’s eyes were already wide, heart twisting.

He hadn’t known. Not back then. Not this early.

He remembered Jungwon always being near Jay, always watching him with a quiet sort of admiration—but he’d never realized just how deeply it went. Not until years later. Not until it was too late to ask if he’d ever needed help holding it in.

And now, here Jungwon stood, barely seventeen and already shouldering the weight of everyone’s futures. Everyone’s hearts.

Sunoo moved without thinking.

He turned and pulled Jungwon into his arms.

The younger boy froze.

But then, slowly, his body caved in. His head dropped onto Sunoo’s shoulder. His fingers gripped the back of Sunoo’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping him together.

They stood there in silence, the youngest leader in K-pop and the boy who came back from the future where things weren’t okay, clinging to each other under the weight of everything they couldn’t say.

“I’m sorry,” Jungwon whispered, voice trembling. “I’m trying so hard to be good. To be a real leader. But I don’t know how. I don’t know if I’m enough.”

Sunoo’s heart shattered.

He tightened the hug. “You are.”

“How do you know?” Jungwon choked. “You don’t know what it’s like. To wake up and wonder if every step you take is going to break something. To be the one they all look at when something goes wrong. I’m just— I’m just me.”

“I do know,” Sunoo whispered. “I see you. I always have.”

Jungwon didn’t speak. He just clung harder.

“You’re everything this group needs,” Sunoo said, tears pricking his eyes. “I mean it. You’re strong. Thoughtful. You care about everyone more than yourself. That’s what makes you perfect for this. You care. And that’s what makes you the best leader anyone could ask for.”

Jungwon pulled back just a little, enough to meet Sunoo’s gaze. His cheeks were damp now, too.

“Then why does it feel like I’m always behind? Like I’m watching everything fall apart, and I can’t hold it together fast enough?”

“Because you’re human.”

Jungwon let out a shaky laugh.

Sunoo reached up and brushed a tear from his cheeks, smiling softly.

“You and Jay will be okay too,” he said gently.

Jungwon’s eyes widened.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. The vulnerability in his expression was breathtaking.

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do,” Sunoo said. “And it’ll be okay.”

Jungwon nodded slowly, eyes lingering on him.

Then, after a long pause, he said quietly, “You’re different these days.”

Sunoo blinked. “Different how?”

Jungwon tilted his head, studying him. “More mature. Calmer. You speak like you know things we don’t. Like you’re not scared anything.”

Sunoo looked down.

“I’m scared of everything,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to see what happens when I don’t try. When I let fear take over.”

They stood there together a little while longer. Two boys. Two different timelines. Both carrying too much. Both learning how to hold each other up in the quiet.

And Sunoo promised himself one more thing:

If he had to carry this future alone—if no one else could know—then so be it.

But Jungwon would not fall.

And Riki would not fade away.

Not this time.

⸻

Chapter Text

⸻

Sunoo hadn’t questioned it at first.

The how. The why.

He hadn’t cared.

Not when he woke up surrounded by a world he thought he’d lost. Not when he looked over and saw Ni-ki—still fifteen, still wild-eyed and sharp-tongued and softer than anyone ever realized—smiling at him, and clinging to him like nothing had changed.

Sunoo hadn’t asked why the universe had pulled him back.

Because he was too busy holding on.
Too busy gripping tightly to every moment Ni-ki gave him, memorizing the warmth of his laugh, the chaotic tangle of his thoughts, the way he used to look at Sunoo like he was still his favorite person, before everything got complicated.

For those first few days, Sunoo had chased the familiarity.

He’d tucked himself beside Ni-ki in practice room again. Thrown playful jabs and old jokes across the dinner table. Watched the younger boy dance when he thought no one was watching.

And he hadn’t stopped to think.
Because if he had, he might’ve realized it was impossible. Might’ve broken the spell.

But now, somewhere deep in the quiet, that question was starting to press at the edges of his thoughts:
Why him? Why now?

Was it fate?
A dream?
Some strange twist in time brought on by longing so deep it rewrote reality?

Sunoo didn’t know.

But maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t about how.
Maybe it was about what he would do with it.
What he would change.

Because deep down, he knew the truth.
This wasn’t just a rewind.
It was a rescue.

And if the universe really had handed him a second chance…

He would save them.
He would save Ni-ki.
He would save their friendship.

He would choose him.

⸻

But even though fate had gave him a second chance—gave him a song, he didn’t get the voice to sing it.

So, Sunoo hadn’t done much.
Not really.

Not in the way he was supposed to.

He had come from the future—had been handed something most people could only dream of, a second chance—and yet, all he’d done was hold on. Smile more. Laugh a little louder. Cling to Ni-ki like that would be enough.

But it wasn’t.

Because reliving everything… it broke him.

Watching Ni-ki pull away again, hearing the whispers again, feeling that cold distance seep in again—it all hit like it was happening for the first time.

The ache.
The confusion.
The unbearable silence that used to live between them.

It dragged him back into the skin of his seventeen-year-old self, into the helplessness he thought he’d grown past.

And the worst part was, even with the knowledge of what would happen, with all the memories and regrets tucked inside his heart—he still couldn’t stop it.

Every time he tried to move, to change something, the fear paralyzed him.

The pain felt just as fresh, just as sharp.

And in that hurt, he didn’t know how to fix it.

He had promised.

He had told himself that this time—this time—Riki wouldn’t fade. That he wouldn’t let him slip through his fingers again.

But promises were easy when they were just thoughts whispered to the night.

Now, faced with the same unraveling, Sunoo didn’t know what to do.

He was trying. God, he was trying.

But even now, with all the time travel and second chances in the world—

He still felt like a boy watching someone he loved disappear, and being completely powerless to stop it.

⸻

Time passed. Riki was slipping. They were fading.

Like the slow unfurling of a ribbon, slipping from where it had once been tied in a perfect bow. Sunoo noticed it in the little things: the way Ni-ki didn’t call out his name as often, the way his laughter — once unrestrained and bouncing off the practice room walls — had grown quieter, rarer. He still smiled, still teased, still practiced like his life depended on it. But something essential was missing.

Him.

They had always been together. Since debut. Since I-LAND. Always stuck to each other like gum on the bottom of a shoe. Ni-ki and Sunoo. Sunoo and Ni-ki.

But Sunoo had been here before.

The deja vu came in cold waves. There’d be moments where he would glance up during practice and see Ni-ki across the room talking to Jungwon or Jake, his head bowed in focus or nodding along seriously. There’d be moments where Ni-ki would laugh at someone else’s joke, head tilted back the way he used to with Sunoo, and Sunoo’s chest would ache with recognition.

He had lived this. Felt this distance. Once, he had brushed it off as Ni-ki growing up. He was fifteen. Already impossibly mature, always pushing himself past what any normal teenager should have to carry. Sunoo remembered watching him back then — in the original timeline — thinking that maybe this was just what happened. Maybe Ni-ki was growing out of their friendship.

He hated how much he had accepted it.

He didn’t remember every detail of the past. Some things were fuzzy, gaps in conversations or expressions that felt oddly new despite having supposedly lived them once before. Jungwon had mentioned it one night at dinner, side-eyeing him across the table.

“You okay?” he asked casually, picking at his rice. “You’ve been… forgetful lately.”

“Just tired,” Sunoo said quickly. “Why?”

“You didn’t remember what we talked about in the green room before that music show,” Jungwon replied. “You were the one who brought it up.”

“Oh…” Sunoo had to force a laugh. “Yeah. No idea what I was saying. I was probably sleep-talking.”

Heeseung looked up from his phone, raising a brow. “You forgetting lyrics too?”

“No! God, no,” Sunoo said quickly. “Songs, dances, schedules — all still in here.” He tapped his head for emphasis. “It’s just… the little stuff.”

“Are you okay, hyung?” Ni-ki asked that time, voice soft but curious.

The use of hyung pierced a little. Not in a bad way, just in the kind of way that made Sunoo’s chest feel full. Full of what, he didn’t know. Longing? Guilt? or Love?

“I’m fine,” he said, smiling. “Promise.”

But he wasn’t. Because every second, he was reliving what he lost.

And worse — he was starting to notice things he hadn’t before.

The comments. The way Ni-ki read them. It hadn’t been obvious at the time. They were all under pressure, under scrutiny, living with cameras around them and expectations crushing down like invisible hands. But now, Sunoo saw it — the way Ni-ki’s smile dimmed after scrolling on his phone, the way his jokes came slower, like he was second-guessing them.

And the irony of it all: he was a child. Fifteen. A kid. A gifted, brilliant kid in an industry that never let him act like it.

So Ni-ki had adapted. Began to speak less in public spaces. Hid the wild side of him that used to cling to Sunoo during breaks, who used to make weird faces in the mirrors during practice, who used to throw his legs over his hyungs lap and demand attention. He stopped doing all of that. Because somewhere along the way, someone told him that wasn’t okay.

Sunoo saw it now in his body language. Always a little more reserved when the cameras were on. Always a little further from Sunoo, like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to be anymore.

And Sunoo hated that too.

⸻

He’d watched Ni-ki retreat inward. And he let it happen. Because everyone around them was moving on. Because part of him had whispered—

“Maybe he doesn’t need me anymore.”

But Sunoo had needed him. They needed each other. And now that he was here again, watching the same slow fade happen right in front of him, Sunoo couldn’t stand it.

Still, he hesitated.

Because changing things felt like trying to stop a glacier. How do you reverse time when everything’s already set in motion?

And then, like before, it happened again.

The moment that had never left his memory.

It started like deja vu.

“Ni-ki,” he said that afternoon, casually leaning against the dorm kitchen counter, “I was thinking of going to the river later. Want to come?”

Ni-ki blinked, brushing his bangs out of his face. He looked tired—more than usual. “Ah… I can’t. I’ve got extra dance practice. Want the choreo to be perfect.”

Sunoo nodded. “Ah, okay. No worries.”

It was almost too easy to fall back into the past. Because that’s exactly what he’d said before. Word for word.

No protest. No push.

He remembered going out anyway, just to feel something. He remembered the cold air against his cheeks. The bakery he stopped in just to smell sugar. The night settling in around him like loneliness.

And then—he remembered walking past the glowing restaurant window.

He didn’t mean to glance inside.

But he did.

And there they were.

Ni-ki. Heeseung. Jake.

Smiling, laughing. Leaning into each other like warmth. Food filling the table. Ni-ki’s smile wide—a real one. A kind Sunoo hadn’t seen in what felt like weeks—or to him, years..

And Sunoo had froze.

His breath caught in his throat. Because Ni-ki had said he was busy. Because Sunoo had believed him.

And then—Ni-ki looked up.

Their eyes met through the glass.

And time slowed.

Sunoo had stood there, in that first timeline, for only a moment. But it had stretched into forever. He hadn’t even cried. Just stared. At Ni-ki. At the apology in his eyes. At the end between them, quiet and unspoken.

And he had walked away.

Back then, they never spoke about that night.

Not once.

Not ever.

And something between them had changed.

Forever.

But not this time.

Sunoo stood again on the same street. Same cold air. Same glass window.

And once again, he saw them.

Heeseung, pouring water. Jake making some big gesture that made Ni-ki laugh so hard he almost fell off his chair.

And Ni-ki looked up.

Saw him.

And Sunoo saw it again. That look. That same “I’m sorry” behind those tired eyes. That same hesitance.

But this time—Sunoo didn’t walk away.

He walked in.

The door chimed softly.

Jake was mid-laugh. “Sunoo?”

All three of them turned.

Ni-ki’s eyes widened, but his expression was unreadable.

Sunoo forced a small smile. “Hey. I was in the area.”

Heeseung gestured toward the table. “You eat yet?”

Sunoo shook his head, then looked at Ni-ki. “Can I sit?”

Ni-ki hesitated. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Of course.”

The tension hung there, fragile.

Sunoo slid into the seat next to him. The waitress came over, surprised at the late addition, and Sunoo ordered whatever they were having.

Jake grinned. “Man, it’s been a while since we all ate together like this.”

Heeseung nodded. “Felt like old times.”

Sunoo glanced sideways. Ni-ki’s chopsticks were poised midair, but he hadn’t touched his food since Sunoo walked in.

The conversation flowed around them. Jake talking about a new game. Heeseung chiming in with something funny staff had said during practice.

But Sunoo could only hear the silence between him and Ni-ki.

Until finally, under the hum of overhead lights, Sunoo leaned a little closer and whispered:

“I saw you smile.”

Ni-ki froze.

Sunoo continued, quieter. “It was a good one. I haven’t seen you laugh like that in a while.”

Ni-ki turned to him, expression unreadable. “I—”

“You said you had practice,” Sunoo said gently.

Ni-ki looked away. “I didn’t know how to say no.”

And there it was. The truth that had haunted Sunoo for years.

⸻

The night outside was quiet, but inside the dorm, everything buzzed with unspoken words. The hallway lights flickered above them, casting long shadows across the floor. Their shoes squeaked against the tiles, echoing in the stillness as Sunoo and Ni-ki made their way back.

Neither said a word.

They’d walked home from the restaurant in silence, close enough to feel each other’s presence but too far to touch. Sunoo’s heart pounded the whole way, fists clenched at his sides, willing himself not to say anything too soon.

He had to be careful. Had to get this right. He’d already messed this up once.

And now he was back. He still didn’t know how or why, but that didn’t matter—not when Ni-ki’s fifteen-year-old self walked beside him, face carefully guarded, like he’d already built a thousand walls Sunoo would never break through.

But he would.

He had to.

They slipped inside the dorm. The bathroom light was on—someone else must’ve been showering.

Sunoo stopped in the living room, turned, and said softly, “Ni-ki.”

Ni-ki froze, his hand still on the hallway railing. “Yeah?”

“Can we talk?” Sunoo’s voice was too gentle. He hated how small he sounded.

Ni-ki hesitated. Then nodded once. He walked over and sat on the armrest of the couch, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Sunoo sat on the edge of the coffee table, knees almost touching Ni-ki’s. “You’ve been pulling away.”

Ni-ki looked away. “I’ve just been busy.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Sunoo took a breath. “You’re pulling away from me. Don’t say you’re not.”

“I’m not.” Ni-ki snapped, voice firm. “I’m growing up. That’s what happens. People change.”

Sunoo stared. “That’s an excuse.”

Ni-ki’s eyes flashed. “It’s the truth.”

“No, it’s not. You used to tell me everything. Now I feel like I’m on the outside of your life. You’re acting like—like the people talking about you are right, like I’d ever think that about you.”

Ni-ki flinched.

“I’m saying it’s okay,” Sunoo said desperately. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Just… stay close. Please.”

Ni-ki stood up. “It’s not that easy, Sunoo. You think if we just ignore everything, it’ll go away? That people will stop talking? That I’ll stop feeling like this? I’m just trying to do what’s best for both of us.”

“That’s not what’s best for me,” Sunoo shot back, standing too. “What’s best for me is you.”

Ni-ki stared at him.

Sunoo stepped closer. “You matter to me. You always have. So stop pretending like I don’t matter to you.”

“I’m not pretending,” Ni-ki said through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to make this easier.”

“Easier?” Sunoo repeated, voice cracking. “Easier for who? Not me.”

Ni-ki’s jaw clenched, and suddenly the words burst out of him. “Then why don’t you do something?! Why haven’t you tried harder to hold onto me?!”

Sunoo froze. His heart lurched.

“I’m hurting too,” Ni-ki whispered, voice shaking now. “And while I slip away, you do too, we’re both letting it happen.”

“No,” Sunoo whispered. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to. I was—” His voice broke. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either!” Ni-ki said, eyes wide and wet now. “But I gave up. You let it happen. We’re just watching us fall apart and not stopping it, so don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

Sunoo’s legs were about to give out, his breathing hard. The pain of losing Ni-ki, the guilt of getting another chance and still almost ruining it—it all came crashing down.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “I didn’t fight hard enough. I thought… I thought maybe I wasn’t allowed to.”

Ni-ki didn’t say anything.

“I thought maybe you’d be better without me.”

Silence stretched between them like a crack in glass.

Then Sunoo moved fast.

He wrapped his arms around Ni-ki and held on tight.

Ni-ki’s arms stayed limp at his sides, frozen.

Sunoo pressed his forehead to Ni-ki’s shoulder and whispered, “If you’re growing up, I’ll grow with you. I’ll catch up, I promise. If you’re pulling away, I’ll come closer. I’ll push until you stay.”

Ni-ki’s breath hitched.

“I don’t care what they say about you. You’re not a bully. You’re my anchor. You always were.”

Ni-ki didn’t move.

Sunoo held tighter. “I’ll fight for this. For us. Even if I’m the only one.”

Ni-ki’s hands lifted, slowly. They hovered just above Sunoo’s back.

His fingers twitched, about to curl around him—

“Hey,” came a voice behind them. “Shower’s free.”

Heeseung.

Ni-ki jumped, pulling back fast. His arms dropped, and he took a step away from Sunoo, his face turning unreadable again.

“I’ll go,” Ni-ki muttered. He didn’t look back as he walked toward the bathroom.

Sunoo stood frozen, staring at the space Ni-ki had just left.

Heeseung walked over, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Sunoo shook his head.

“You will be,” Heeseung said. His voice was soft but firm.

Sunoo looked down, voice hollow. “What if I made it worse?”

Heeseung gave him a small, sad smile. “Then fix it again. That’s what second chances are for, right?”

Sunoo didn’t answer.

Later that night, the dorm lights dimmed. Everyone was winding down. The room light was off. The shower had stopped running fifteen minutes ago.

Sunoo sat on his bed, his back to the wall. His knees were pulled to his chest, eyes wide open in the dark.

His conversation with Ni-ki played on repeat.

He turned toward the wall and buried his face in his pillow. “It’s all gone wrong,” he whispered. “I ruined it again.”

His mind raced. What if Ni-ki hated him now? What if he’d pushed too far, too soon? What if—

A pillow was placed gently beside him.

Sunoo stilled.

He didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.

Then the blankets lifted.

A moment later, the bed shifted again—more weight.

And then Sunoo heard it. So quiet, it nearly broke him.

“I’m sorry, Hyung.”

Sunoo’s breath caught.

Ni-ki.

Sunoo didn’t turn around. He didn’t have to.

“I’ll stay close.”

His eyes welled with tears that slid silently down his cheeks.

Because in that moment, everything was okay again.

Maybe not perfect. Maybe not completely fixed.

But safe.

He closed his eyes, finally able to sleep for the first time in what felt like weeks.

And for the first time in what truly was years—he wasn’t carrying the weight of it alone anymore.

⸻

Sunoo woke up slowly, the weight of sleep still pulling at his limbs. His body felt heavy. His eyelashes fluttered with effort, vision blurry, the world around him hazy and quiet. The room was dim with the early light of morning seeping through the curtains, casting a soft glow against the walls.

Something felt off.

Not in the ‘something’s wrong’ way—more in the ‘this isn’t where I’m supposed to be’ kind of way. His fingers twitched against the sheets, unfamiliar but also weirdly familiar at the same time fabric beneath his touch. It was soft, well-washed, and it smelled like vanilla.

His heart skipped.

And then he blinked fully awake.

This was his room. His real room. From the present. The same posters on the wall, the same huge monitor he bought when he learned he’d have his own room, The framed photo of their debut stage sat on his bedside table, right where it had always been. His breath caught in his throat.

“What—?”

His eyes flicked to his side instinctively, and that’s when he saw it. Saw him.

Someone was sleeping next to him.

Sunoo froze, pulse skyrocketing.

His entire body went stiff, muscles locked in place like a startled deer caught in headlights. Because the boy sleeping soundly next to him, facing him, so close, was not 15-year-old Ni-ki. It wasn’t the young version he’d went to bed with the night before.

It was him. The real one. Nineteen-year-old Nishimura Riki. Grown up. Taller. Sharper-jawed. His hair was platinum blonde now, shorter, a little messy from sleep. He was facing Sunoo on his side, breath steady. One arm was tucked under the pillow, the other curled loosely toward Sunoo like instinct had drawn him there in the night.

Sunoo’s brain blanked.

His body jerked back with a panicked gasp, his breath hitching in his throat, hands gripping the blanket like it might anchor him to something real. His vision swam for a second — sleep still clinging to his eyes — but the image in front of him didn’t waver.

“What the—?!”

Ni-ki stirred at the sudden movement.

His brow creased, eyes scrunching a little as he adjusted to the sound and sensation of Sunoo jolting upright. A few beats passed as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. Then, groggily, he looked up at Sunoo.
And with a sleepy frown, voice raspy and low from just waking up, he mumbled:

“…What’s wrong, babe?”

Sunoo’s soul left his body.

Babe?

BABE?!

No.

No. There was no way. He had to be dreaming, right?

His mouth parted, but nothing came out. His throat had gone dry, and his brain refused to form a coherent thought. He stared down at Ni-ki, at the slightly confused but very real look on his face, at the soft way his brows drew together, at the way he didn’t seem surprised to see Sunoo there. Like he belonged there.

Sunoo’s chest squeezed so tightly it hurt.

He wasn’t seventeen anymore. He wasn’t in the dorms with their younger selves. He wasn’t still clawing his way through the past, trying to undo something impossible.

He was here.
Back in the present.

Back in a world where he and Ni-ki—
Were apparently together?

He couldn’t breathe.

Ni-ki was blinking now, starting to sit up slowly, concern growing on his face as he rubbed a hand across his eyes.

“Sun?” he asked again, a little clearer this time. “Are you okay?”

SUN?

Sunoo was going to pass out.

Because somehow, somehow, everything had changed.

The loneliness. The distance. The aching silence that had once settled between them like a fog thick enough to choke on — it was gone.
Ni-ki was here. Ni-ki was close.

And judging by the way he said babe, and had used a nickname Sunoo had never heard from his mouth, and the way he reached for Sunoo’s wrist now, brows drawn in soft worry, they weren’t just close again.
They were… something else entirely.

Sunoo blinked down at the hand on his wrist. It was bigger than he remembered. The fingers more calloused. But the way it held him — gently, like something precious — was unmistakably Ni-ki.

The version of Ni-ki he thought he’d lost.

He remembered. The past. The second chance. The tears in the dark, the confrontation. The decision to walk into that restaurant and sit down beside the boy who had once drifted away.

He had changed it.
And it worked.
But now—now—they weren’t just close again.

They were… together?

His eyes darted to Ni-ki’s face, then to the bed, then to the tiny space between them (which, honestly, was barely there), then back to Ni-ki, who was now watching him with amusement. Like Sunoo hadn’t just been hit by a reality-defying truck.

“I—” Sunoo stammered. “What—Ni-ki—what did you just—what did you just call me?”

Ni-ki tilted his head, confused. Still sleepy, but now smiling a little like Sunoo was being silly. “I called you Babe. Like I always do..?”
Sunoo felt dizzy. The room spun.

“I—wait—hold on.” He clutched his head, trying to breathe through the chaos in his brain.

“Are we—are we—ARE WE—?” Sunoo sputtered, hand flailing around between the two of them like he could just mime his way through the absolute existential crisis he was going through.

Ni-ki tilted his head. “Huh?”

“Are. We. DATING?!” Sunoo finally yelled, a little too high-pitched, like his voice had been dunked in helium and panic.

Ni-ki blinked. “...Yes?” he answered slowly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re dating…did you forget? Is this a prank? Are you still mad at me for pinching your cheeks on live yesterday?”

Sunoo made a noise that could only be described as a dying squeak. He slapped both hands over his face, then dragged them down dramatically.

This couldn’t be happening.
This couldn’t be happening.

He couldn’t believe it.

Sunoo gaped. “We’re—we’re what?”

Ni-ki frowned. “Dating? Together? In love? I confessed to you a year ago? In Japan? Ringing a bell?”

Yeah, Sunoo HAD to be dreaming.

“Yo—You confessed? What?”

“Yes,” Ni-ki said, deadpan. “You started going on about fate, saying how time led to this moment, it was cute though, don’t get me wrong..”

Sunoo groaned, covering his face with both hands.

The weight of it hit him all at once—like every version of himself, from the heartbroken 17-year-old who had watched Ni-ki slip away, to the shattered 22-year-old who’d begged the universe for another chance, were all screaming in his head at the same time.

And now they were dating? DATING?!

He whipped back around to stare at Ni-ki again, who had the audacity to just lie back down like this was just any normal morning.

“OH MY GOD,” Sunoo gasped, absolutely feral, his hands still hovering mid-air like he didn’t know where to place them.

Ni-ki gave him a lazy grin. “You’re being so dramatic, hyung.”

Sunoo blinked. “I just woke up in an alternate timeline where we’re suddenly dating and you’re calling me dramatic?!”

Ni-ki yawned again. “We’ve been dating for a year, babe. You literally made me cry when you accepted my confession. Are you sure you’re okay? Did you have a weird dream?”

Sunoo’s brain had stopped running entirely.
He stared into the void.
Then, very softly, he whispered again:

“…Oh my god.”

Chapter Text

⸻

Sunoo’s whole body had turned to stone. His lungs refused to function, his brain refused to process. The words sat on his tongue, unmovable, only managing to leak out in a strangled whisper.

“…Oh my god.”

The silence after felt deafening. The sound of Ni-ki’s breathing, steady and slow, filled the room like a drumbeat Sunoo couldn’t escape.

Ni-ki was sitting up now, platinum hair sticking out in all directions, eyes still puffy with sleep. His expression was equal parts confusion and amusement, like Sunoo had just announced that the grass was blue and forks weren’t found in kitchens.

“Hyung,” Ni-ki said slowly, voice husky with sleep, “what’s going on? You’re acting…weird. Did you have a bad dream or something?”

Sunoo’s eyes flicked toward him like he’d just been caught committing a crime. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. He had a split second to decide whether to tell Ni-ki the truth that he had literally gone back in time, fought to save their friendship, and apparently changed the future enough that now they were dating or to come up with an excuse.

His brain short circuited.
And his mouth…absolutely betrayed him.

“I—uh—I have to take a massive shit!”

The words left his mouth before he could even process them. His whole body went rigid, realizing what he just said.

Ni-ki blinked. Once. Twice.

“Um…what?” he said flatly.

But Sunoo was already scrambling off the bed so fast he nearly tripped over the blanket tangled at his ankles He almost landed face first onto the floor. He caught himself on the edge of his nightstand with a loud clunk, sending his framed debut photo wobbling dangerously before it toppled onto the carpet. Not even bothering to pick it up.

“I gotta go!” Sunoo squeaked, snatching his phone quickly, and bolted for the door. “Will probably take long! Don’t wait up!”

The bathroom door slammed shut behind him with a bang.

Ni-ki just sat there on Sunoo’s bed, staring at the door like he was trying to decipher if that had really just happened. Well, he was used to Sunoo’s antics by now, he flopped back down against the pillows.

“…He’s so weird,” he muttered into the blanket with a smile. Then he sighed, rubbed his face, and said loud enough for Sunoo to hear, “Okay. I’m gonna go upstairs and get ready then!”

Sunoo locked the bathroom door behind him, his chest heaving. He leaned over the sink, palms braced on the counter, and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

The boy staring back at him looked exactly the same as he had before he’d ever slipped through the cracks of time. Same black hair, same smooth skin, same faint dark circles from the group’s busy comeback schedule. He lifted a hand to his cheek, touched it like maybe he’d find proof that he wasn’t really himself anymore.

But no.
It was him.
He was real. He was here.

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, eyes wide. “Okay. Okay. Everything is fine.”

His heart was still trying to climb out of his throat.

Sunoo gripped his phone and he scrambled to unlock it, staring at the date at the top of the screen.

July, 2025.

His vision blurred, and he blinked rapidly, almost expecting the numbers to rearrange themselves into something impossible. But they didn’t. It was the morning after he asked Ni-ki to share a bed again, that night he traveled back in time.

“Holy crap,” he muttered. “It’s real. It’s actually real.”

He pressed the back of his phone against his forehead, trying to ground himself. His breath came in shaky bursts, laughing and sighing simultaneously.

Because somehow, somehow he wasn’t seventeen anymore. He wasn’t stuck in the dorms with their teenage selves. He wasn’t clutching to Riki like he might slip away any second.

He was back.
In the present.
In his room.

And Ni-ki…
Ni-ki had been lying in bed next to him like it was the most normal thing in the world. Calling him babe.

His hands slapped down on the sink again, grip tight.

“Babe,” he repeated to himself, tone laced with disbelief. “Babe??”

The word echoed in his head like a song stuck on repeat. His entire body curled inward, like just thinking about it made him combust.

Sunoo stumbled back a step, his back hitting the door with a quiet thud. His mind flashed with fragments of past memories that also felt so recent.

That night in the restaurant when he had chosen not to let Ni-ki drift away.
The argument, the tears, the promises.
The way he had sworn Ni-ki wouldn’t fade again.

He thought he had just returned to the present but it wasn’t the present he had left.
It was different.
Changed.

Because they weren’t just close again.
They weren’t just fixed and best friends again.
They were dating.

In love.

Sunoo squeezed his eyes shut, chest tight.

Sure, he had said he loved Ni-ki in the past. He had even admitted it aloud, to Heeseung of all people. But it hadn’t been meant romantically. It had been desperation, devotion, a plea not to lose someone who mattered more than the whole world.

The tiny crush he’d had in their early days, the way Ni-ki’s smile had done something uncomfortable to his chest, lighting something up within him. The way he’d secretly thought he was too kind, too magnetic. He’d buried that deep down, convinced it was impossible. They’re idols, they couldn’t risk something like that. And Ni-ki? Ni-ki had always felt unreachable, too far out of Sunoo’s grasp.

So, Sunoo had given up. He’d buried his feelings and swore he’d never let them see the light of day again.

But now?

Now Ni-ki was nineteen. Grown up. Beautiful in that sharp jawed, platinum haired way that made Sunoo’s stomach twist. Still Ni-ki, still blunt and quietly gentle but older and steadier.

And he was Sunoo’s boyfriend.

What Sunoo had deemed impossible had become a reality.

Sunoo’s reflection stared back at him, eyes wide and trembling.

“What the hell happened?” he whispered.

Because whether or not he understood it, whether or not he thought it could last, the truth was staring him right in the face.

Things had changed for a reason.
The universe had listened.
And somehow, impossibly, he had been given a new timeline.

His mind scrambled, digging through years of buried feelings.

Sunoo squeezed his eyes shut, dragging his fingers down his face until they stretched the skin in ridiculous ways. His reflection looked as horrified as he felt. He buryed his face in his hands, muffling the wild laugh that slipped out.

“Oh my god,” he whispered again, because no other words existed to describe how he felt.

A million versions of himself screamed inside him. The seventeen year old who’d watched Ni-ki drift away. The eighteen year old who’d begged the universe for a do over. The twenty year old who had lived with the ache of what they’d lost.

And now the twenty two year old, sitting in his bathroom, realizing that somehow the universe had listened.

He didn’t understand it. He didn’t know why. But one truth glowed so brightly it hurt.

Things had changed for a reason.
The universe had answered.

And Sunoo wasn’t about to waste it.

He lifted his head, breath steadier now, though his pulse read anything but calm. His lips pulled into the faintest, trembling smile.

“This is fine,” he said softly to his reflection. “I’ll give it a try. If this is what I fought for then…

it’ll be worth it.”

Sunoo composed himself and deemed it was time to live his new life. The cold water hit Sunoo’s face like a slap, jolting him out of the spinning loop in his head. He pressed his palms into his cheeks, watching droplets trail down into the sink. His reflection stared back at him, flushed and frazzled, but steadier than the mess who had locked himself in here fifteen minutes ago.

“Get it together,” he muttered, patting his face with a towel. “This might be crazy but it’ll be worth it…hopefully.”

The towel muffled his nervous laugh. He straightened, shoulders raised like he could force confidence into himself. He didn’t understand how or why the timeline had twisted into this new version of reality, but one thing was clear, Ni-ki was his boyfriend now, somehow. And he had promised himself he’d give this new life a try. It was a second chance and he couldn’t waste it.

Still, his stomach flipped as he combed through his hair with his fingers. His hands kept trembling.

When he finally unlocked the door, he peeked into the hall expecting the universe to smack him in the face with another suprise. Nothing happened. Just the quiet hum of the dorm in the morning, the faint chatter from the kitchen bleeding down into the hall.

Sunoo slipped back into his room, quickly pulling on a soft oversized sweater and jorts, he was trying to pretend this was any normal morning.

“Normal,” he whispered under his breath as he slipped his phone into his pocket. “Just… be normal.”

He padded out into the hall, following the smell of toast and eggs. The kitchen came into view, and his breath caught.

All six of them were there. Jungwon was sitting near the counter, legs swinging as he peeled an orange. Jay stood beside him, pretending not to pay attention but obviously hovering. Jake and Heeseung were bickering over playing league later tonight,and Sunghoon was sipping coffee with an eyebrow raised at the whole scene. And Ni-ki—

Ni-ki was already looking at him.

“Sun!” he called, voice bright in a way that always made Sunoo’s chest ache. Sunoo was also still getting used to the new nickname. He patted the empty chair beside him at the table. “I saved the seat next to me.”

The world stuttered.

For half a second, Sunoo wasn’t twenty two in a dorm kitchen. He was seventeen again, waking up in their first dorm walking into the kitchen and fifteen year old Ni-ki had been waving him over with that same grin. “Hyung! I saved the seat next to me!” he’d chirped, voice higher, face rounder, eyes sparkling with the same warmth.

The memory hit so hard Sunoo’s eyes burned.

But then he blinked, and it was now again. Ni-ki, taller and broader, platinum hair falling over his forehead, still waiting for him with that same look in his eyes, only a bit different in a good way.

Sunoo’s heart thudded. His feet moved before his brain could catch up. He practically jogged to the chair, plopping down beside Ni-ki like he was afraid someone else might steal it. Their knees brushed under the table.

For a breathless moment, they just looked at each other. Ni-ki’s mouth curved into the smallest, softest smile, and Sunoo’s insides turned warm. His own lips tugged up, eyes wide and bright with something he hadn’t truly let himself feel in years. A newfound love that was embarrassing and impossible to hide.

He was doomed. Completely doomed.

But maybe he was okay with that.

A laugh broke his trance.

“Wow,” Jungwon said, shaking his head with mock despair. “Must be nice.” He threw an orange peel into the trash can. “You guys are the only couple here and it shows. Way to shove it in our faces.”

The kitchen erupted with laughter.

But Sunoo froze.

Only couple?

His pulse spiked. Jungwon’s words echoed in his head. The only couple?

That couldn’t be right. Because Jay and Jungwon had been together. And Jake and Heeseung—he had seen it, atleast in the original timeline.

His gaze flicked between them, panic prickling at the edges of his chest. Had he… messed everything up?

“Sunoo?” Jay’s voice cut through, calm but curious. “You look…confused. What’s wrong?”

Sunoo blinked at him, throat dry. The rational thing to do would be to laugh it off. To play along. But the words tumbled out before he could stop them.

“Aren’t you and Jungwon dating?” he asked, voice small.

The laughter died instantly. Jay’s ears turned red. Jungwon’s orange slice slipped from his fingers onto the counter.

“I—what—no!” Jay stammered, hands flying up defensively. “We’re not dating…”

Sunoo’s stomach sank. He turned quickly, desperate for further confirmation. His eyes landed on Jake and Heeseung. “Then…aren’t you two—”

Jake choked on a laugh. “What? No, Sunoo!” He waved his hands frantically. “We’re not dating either. What gave you that idea?”

Heeseung, normally calm, was frozen wide eyed like Sunoo had just spilled his darkest secret. Jungwon mirrored him, face pale, lips parted. Only Sunoo knew why, they’d both confessed their feelings to him back in the past.

The realization hit him like a punch, their loves were still secret here. Untouched and hidden.

Sunoo’s face burned up. His hands flew up. “Sorry! Sorry, I just—uh—I had this weird dream last night, and I guess I’m still…groggy. Forget I said anything.”

The tension cracked. The others laughed, shaking their heads.

“Dreaming about us dating?” Jake teased. “Weird, but I don’t blame you. Heeseung’s a catch.”

“Shut up,” Heeseung muttered, ears pink.

Across the table, Ni-ki snorted, nudging Sunoo’s shoulder. “He’s serious, though. You were acting weird this morning. And you didn’t even know we were dating even though we woke up in the same bed.”

The whole group burst out laughing again, the sound bouncing off the kitchen walls.

“Well you guys did share a bed a lot back then before you started dating, he’s probably used to it.” Sunghoon added.

Sunoo forced a smile, but his mind was spinning. His secret knowledge pressed heavy in his chest. He’d changed things. He didn’t know how much, or why, but something was different now.

And there were only two people who could help him figure it out.

His eyes flicked to Jungwon and Heeseung. Both still staring at him, unsettled.

He needed to talk to them. Fast.

⸻

Breakfast had been chaotic as usual, half the members fighting over toast, someone spilling juice, and Jay making more pancakes then needed which had only been for Jungwon but could feed the whole group. Sunoo laughed along, mindlessly picking at his food, more caught up in the swirl of voices around him.

It almost felt normal.

Almost.

Because every second he sat there, Sunoo was hyper aware of Ni-ki next to him. The way his hair fell over his eyes, the way he chewed, the way he stretched his legs under the table so they brushed against Sunoo’s. Small, ordinary details that shouldn’t matter. But they did. They mattered so much that Sunoo felt dizzy from it.

And then Ni-ki broke the spell.

“I’m hanging out with Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon today,” Ni-ki said casually, setting down his glass of milk. He glanced at Sunoo, as if this were nothing important and unusual, as if they had always talked about their plans for the day. “But I’ll be back in time for our date later.”

Sunoo froze.

He dropped his fork, hitting his plate. No one seemed to notice except Ni-ki, who tilted his head like he always did when he was confused.

Wait.

Date?

They had a date later?

Sunoo’s chest seized, heart pounding so fast it was almost painful. He must’ve misheard. He had to have misheard. But Ni-ki was already wiping his mouth with a napkin, standing, like he’d just said the most casual thing in the world.

Sunoo’s mind raced. He had just landed in this timeline, hadn’t even had the chance to accustom himself. And now he was being told he and Ni-ki were going on a date?

He managed to speak up, though his voice came out too high pitched. “Wait, a date?”

Ni-ki paused, looking at him. “Yeah.”

Sunoo blinked. “Later today?”

“Mmhm. Later…today.”

Sunoo gripped the edge of the table. His heart felt like it had grown too big for his chest, pressing against his ribs, threatening to burst right out. Excitement and panic clashed violently in his stomach. He’d dreamed of this, being close with Ni-ki, holding onto him, having another chance. And now it was here. Already here. But it was more than he dreamed of. Beyond the relationship he had wished would come back.

And he wasn’t prepared at all.

“Oh,” Sunoo muttered. He cleared his throat, trying to seem calm. “Right, right. Our…date. I just, uh, remind me, what am I supposed to wear again?”

“Whatever you want. You look good in anything.”

Sunoo’s face went hot so fast, his ears burned. His fingers gripped the table so tight his knuckles went white.

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Ni-ki, of course, didn’t wait for an answer. He just slipped on his sneakers, waved vaguely, and left with a quick, “See you later, hyung.”

The door clicked shut.

Sunoo sat frozen for a solid ten seconds.

His heart was in his throat, his stomach tumbling. They had a date. He and Ni-ki had a date. And Ni-ki thought this was completely normal.

But for Sunoo, who had just been dropped into this new reality, it wasn’t normal at all.

He didn’t even know what kind of date it was. Dinner? A movie? Some plan from weeks ago he wasn’t around to experience? How was he supposed to act like he remembered something he didn’t?

He had time to prepare himself, but for now he needed more answers. Answers on what changed and why.

One person came to his mind first.

Heeseung.

Heeseung’s room was half lit, blinds pulled mostly shut, the faint glow of a screen reflecting in his eyes. He was hunched over his keyboard, tapping the keys furiously, completely absorbed in whatever game he was playing.

Sunoo hesitated at the door. He hadn’t talked closely with Heeseung in recent years. Back when they had just debut they’d been inseparable, whispering secrets on the same bunk, complaining about practice, Heeseung helping Sunoo with his vocals, laughing until their stomachs hurt. But time had shifted things. Careers, schedules, personalities. They’d drifted, and it was different from the drift with Ni-ki. So, he accepted this drift.

But now, standing in the doorway, it felt like stepping into the past.

He knocked gently. “Hyung?”

Heeseung flinched hard enough that he accidentally quit his game. “Yah!” He whipped around, eyes wide. “Sunoo!”

“Sorry!” Sunoo held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Heeseung sighed, raking a hand through his hair, clearly trying to calm himself. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I didn’t sneak! I knocked!” Sunoo protested weakly. He shuffled in, awkward in the silence that followed. “Uh…sorry.”

Heeseung waved it off, “It’s fine.” He turned back to his screen, restarting the game. “What’s up?”

The awkwardness pressed down heavy, thicker than Sunoo expected. This wasn’t like before, when they could talk about anything. The air between them now felt fragile, like stepping on thin ice.

Sunoo swallowed. “Can I…sit?”

“Yeah.” Heeseung nodded toward the chair by his desk, not looking away from the screen.

Sunoo sat, fidgeting with his sleeves. For a while, the only sounds were the clicks of Heeseung’s keyboard and the hum of the PC. Sunoo’s chest tightened. Was this what they’d become? Two people who used to be close, now barely knowing how to speak to each other?

He hated it.

Finally, Heeseung paused the game and turned towards Sunoo, giving him a wary look. “So? You came here for a reason, right?”

Sunoo nodded, heart hammering. “Yeah. Um. I wanted to ask you something.”

Heeseung raised a brow, curious but cautious. “Okay…”

“It’s kind of random.”

Heeseung leaned back. “Random how?”

Sunoo took a deep breath. “Like five year old conversation…random.”

That caught Heeseung’s attention. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing slightly. “Um. What?”

“Yeah okay. So, I had this…weird dream.” A dream which had actually been time travel but he couldn’t tell Heeseung that. “Or memory. Or…something and it got me thinking.”

Heeseung tilted his head, intrigued. “Alright. Thinking about what?”

Sunoo hesitated, then just said it. “Do you remember that one time, a long time ago, in the van…when you told me you liked Jake?”

Heeseung froze. Completely froze.

Sunoo rushed to explain. “You said you didn’t know if he saw you that way. And I told you that you and Jake were meant to find each other. Do you remember?”

The silence was thick. Heeseung stared at him, unreadable, lips pressed together in a tight line.

Sunoo shifted nervously. “I know it’s random. But I…just kept thinking about it. And I wondered…” His voice softened. “What happened? Did you never confess? Is that why you two aren’t…you know, dating?”

He winced at his own bluntness. He didn’t want to sound invasive. This wasn’t about prying, it was about understanding. About anchoring himself in this new timeline where the pieces didn’t quite match.

Heeseung’s shoulders slumped slightly. He looked away, staring at some spot on the floor.

“Sorry,” Sunoo said quickly. “You don’t have to answer that. If it’s too much, just forget I asked.”

For a long moment, Heeseung stayed quiet. Then, with a soft exhale, he said, “No. It’s fine.”

Sunoo blinked.

Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve…wanted to talk about it. But I never told anyone what happened. I didn’t want the others to know. So I just…kept it to myself.”

Sunoo leaned forward, heart aching.

Heeseung’s voice was quiet, raw. “But yeah. I liked him. Still do.”

The words hung heavy in the air, the silence stretched between them.

The weight of Heeseung’s confession pressed into the small room, the hum of the console filling the gaps that neither of them moved to close. Sunoo sat forward, hands clasped, heart aching for his hyung who looked like he was carrying far too much for one person.

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, gaze still on the floor, as if speaking those words had stolen whatever composure he’d been clinging to. His fingers drummed against his thigh, restless.

“Well…that night in the van, when you told me Jake and I were meant to find each other…” Heeseung said.

Heeseung huffed a laugh—humorless, fragile. “You encouraged me so much, it was like I actually started believing it. Like…maybe I wasn’t just imagining things. Maybe Jake really did like me back, and I was just too much of a coward to see it.”

Sunoo bit his lip. His chest tightened. He remembered saying those words to him back in the van, remembered the way Heeseung’s eyes had softened as though someone had finally given him permission to hope.

“I told myself,” Heeseung went on, “that I’d confess soon. That if I kept waiting, I’d lose my chance.” He hesitated, then looked at Sunoo. “So I did. That night you saw Jake and me in the restaurant.”

Sunoo froze. His breath caught. “Wait. That night?”

Heeseung nodded slowly. “Yeah. Originally it was supposed to be just me and him, but then Ni-ki tagged along and then you. So, my plans were kinda ruined but I didn’t wanna give up. After dinner I came out of the shower and heard you and Ni-ki arguing down the hall. Then later that night, I saw him go into your bed. And for some reason, that pushed me even more. Like, if he could be brave enough to stay by your side even after everything that was going on between you two…then maybe I could finally tell Jake how I felt.”

Sunoo’s heart thudded painfully. He remembered that night vividly. How messy it had been with Ni-ki, how desperate he was to fix what they were about to lose. And all the while, Heeseung had been making one of the biggest choices of his life.

Heeseung’s eyes dropped again, his voice lower now. “I saw a chance, Jake had been awake on the balcony. Just…standing there, looking out at the city. So I went out and told him.”

Sunoo held his breath. “And?”

Heeseung let out a laugh. But it cracked. “And he rejected me.”

The words landed like stones in Sunoo’s stomach.

“He said he didn’t feel the same way,” Heeseung continued, his tone almost flat. “That we should focus on the group, not on stuff like that. And that was it. He went back inside, and I just…gave up. Tried to bury it. Pretend I’d never said anything.”

Sunoo’s throat tightened. He wanted to reach across the space between them, shake him, hug him, something. Anything to erase the look on Heeseung’s face, the mix of shame, sadness, and resignation that no one should ever have to carry alone.

“I’m so sorry, hyung,” Sunoo whispered.

Heeseung shook his head quickly. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“No, but…I feel like I pushed you into it,” Sunoo said. His words spilled out, thick with guilt. “If I hadn’t told you what I did in the van that day, maybe you wouldn’t have confessed so soon. Maybe you would’ve confessed until the right moment—”

“Sunoo.” Heeseung’s voice cut him off gently but firmly. He finally looked at him again, eyes steady. “It’s not your fault. You gave me hope, yeah, but I made the choice. And honestly? Even if it hurt, I don’t regret telling him. At least I wasn’t left wondering forever.”

Sunoo bit his lip, unsure how to respond. The room was quiet again, except for the faint hum of the paused game.

But then Heeseung hesitated. Sunoo could see it, his shoulders tensing, his lips parting as though he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure if he should.

Sunoo waited. Patient. Gentle.

And eventually, Heeseung exhaled. “There’s…something else.”

Sunoo tilted his head. “What is it?”

Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “Well…a couple weeks ago, Jake and I were hanging out. Just us. We…got drunk.”

Sunoo’s eyes widened.

Heeseung’s ears turned pink. “And we kissed. Then…one thing led to another.” He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Sunoo. “And now we’ve got this…um friends with benefits thing going on.”

Sunoo’s mouth dropped open. His brain scrambled for a response, any response, but came up empty. He’d expected a lot of things, but not this.

Heeseung winced at his expression. “I know how it sounds.”

Sunoo stared. Heeseung shifted awkwardly.

Finally, Sunoo let out a slow breath through his nose, “Wow. Friends with benefits. Um…that’s…not what I was expecting! Does anyone else know?”

Heeseung choked, seeming startled. “Don’t even say that. If anyone, especially Jungwon ever found out, it’ll end in him giving us both the longest lecture of our lives and everyone else teasing us.”

Sunoo’s lips curved into a sly smile. He remembered how in his original timeline, when Jungwon found out Heeseung and Jake had begun dating he lectured them for hours until it became too much and one mention of Jay had shut him up. “You’re right. He’d sit you down and do a whole speech thing about how, “‘as your leader, I expected more from you!’” for like, two hours straight.” He raised his voice in a mock-serious tone. “‘Lee Heeseung, do you know what image this can give enhypen!?’”

Heeseung barked out a laugh despite himself, shaking his head. “Exactly. Just like he did with you and Ni-ki.”

“Yeah just like-“ Sunoo’s cheeks flamed instantly. “Wait what?”

Heeseung tilted his head. “Yeah. When you two first got together? He freaked. Said it was cute and he saw it coming, but still gave you a whole talk about being professional.”

Sunoo froze, a little dazed. He had completely forgotten, again, that in this timeline, he and Ni-ki were actually dating. The mention sent his thoughts spiraling, picturing Jungwon with his arms crossed, scolding them like some panicking parent while Ni-ki just nodded and Sunoo probably wanted to sink into the floor.

“R-right,” Sunoo stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “That…totally happened.”

Heeseung eyed him curiously. “You okay?“

Sunoo forced a laugh, his blush refusing to fade. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just…remembering the embarrassment of Jungwon’s scoldings.”

They shared a smile at that, the moment easing back into something lighter.

“Jokes aside,” Heeseung spoke up, burying his face in his hands for a moment before dragging them down. “I still love him, and probably always will, but I don’t know what to do with this. I can’t keep up the whole friends with benefits thing forever. It’s like he’s giving me pieces of what I want, but never the whole thing. And sometimes-“ He hesitated, eyes flicking toward Sunoo. “Sometimes I swear he looks at me the same way I look at him. Like he wants more too. But then it’s gone, and I’m left wondering if I’m just imagining it.”

Sunoo’s chest ached. He wanted to cry for him, for all the confusion, the heartbreak, the longing that stretched between them, a feeling he was familiar with.

“Hyung,” he said gently, “I think you need to ask yourself what you really want. If it’s just this, just the physical relationship, then fine. But if it’s more? Then you deserve to know where he stands. You can’t keep tearing yourself apart over something he’s not willing to admit.”

Heeseung stared at him, eyes glassy, as though the words were both a band aid and a burn. Then he nodded, slowly.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “I just…needed to hear it from someone else.”

Sunoo gave him a small smile. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Heeseung let out a long breath, then looked at Sunoo with something that almost resembled relief. “I missed this, you know. Talking to you like this. It’s been a long time.”

Sunoo’s heart squeezed. He nodded. “Yeah, I missed it too.”

For a moment, the years fell away. It was just them again, two boys whispering secrets, trusting each other with the things they couldn’t say out loud to anyone else.

Eventually, Sunoo stood. “Thanks for telling me all that. I’m glad you did.”

Heeseung nodded. “Thanks for listening.”

Sunoo gave him one last reassuring smile before slipping out of the room.

And as the door closed behind him, his mind spun.

Heeseung and Jake. Ni-ki and him. All the tangled threads that connected them, pulling tighter, threatening to snap.

He needed to talk to Jungwon.

⸻