❛ sanghoon

@『 ✮ 』eunsang seo。 Ah... he's said something wrong, hasn't he? Not that Sanghoon is surprised at this point — he can only ever seem to say the wrong thing these days, no matter how pure his intentions may be.

Still, seeing Eunsang like this — so openly suffering, so openly pained — Sanghoon truly cannot help the anger he feels towards himself. That's right, he had caused this — caused the tears to spill from Eunsang's eyes, caused the band to fall apart, caused pain to the man he claimed to love. Yet another apology almost falls from his lips, before he shuts his mouth, skin prickling with warmth when he feels the sensation of Eunsang's palm against his cheek.

The touch is comforting, somewhat — so much so that he lets his eyes fall shut. (He completely misses the way Eunsang looks at him, like he always has.) Eunsang's thumb brushes against his cheek, and Sanghoon has the most oddly placed memory of these hands, rough and callused from years of playing guitar — years that he'd seen for himself. They'd been children once, struggling to stretch their aching fingers to press against the strings of their guitars — and Sanghoon misses that. With Eunsang, it had been so easy to forget the oppressive atmospheres of their own homes, so easy to let themselves get lost in learning the art of music, so easy to let themselves laugh and brush aside all their worries and pains.

It's not nearly as easy now, not nearly as simple — and Sanghoon finds himself longing for those simpler days. Responding to Eunsang's simple request with compliance, Sanghoon stays quiet as he lets himself get lost in a past he'd told himself he'd forget, in a past where he stayed by Eunsang's side, a constant beacon of support and compassion.

When had that changed? When had he become so selfish? When had he left Eunsang in the dark like this?

He opens his eyes then, just in time to savor the sensation of a hand running through his hair, warmth collecting at the base of his nape — and a tear rolls down Eunsang's cheek.

A question is just about to leave his parted lips, before Eunsang closes that distance between them (when had they gotten so close?), and Sanghoon feels a light pressure against his lips.

His first thought: Eunsang tastes like the ty six pack beer he'd purchased at the convenience store a few blocks down the street.

His second thought? Nothing.

Sanghoon's mind is empty as he registers the familiar sensation of a kiss — except, this is completely unfamiliar. Yes, it's lips against his own, but it's utterly different from what he's used to. This kiss is wet with tears, behind it lying a familiar stranger, one that Sanghoon's known his whole life, but /not like this./ Never like this. It's then that he realizes — how much of Eunsang does he not recognize? He doesn't recognize the inkling of these lips upon his, and he certainly doesn't recognize why Eunsang would... kiss him.

And yet, Sanghoon isn't the first to pull away. He simply stays still in his spot — a myriad of emotions, comprised of everything and nothing at all. Why he doesn't move, why he doesn't react, he doesn't know. All he knows is this:

Eunsang should taste better than that ty beer he bought last night — Sanghoon should have bought better alcohol.

@『 ✮ 』sanghoon yoon。 He wonders if it would be easier if Sanghoon had told him that he needed some space like Yeonwol. That he didn’t need someone as useless, as incompetent as Eunsang to tell him that everything will turn out alright in the end (which he could not bring himself to say even if he tries). He can still feel the ghost of Sanghoon’s arms around his body when the latter had pulled him into a hug, the warmth of his touch lingering on his mind and tormenting him. He wonders if it would be easier if he had kept his mouth shut instead, because when Sanghoon’s answer comes in the form of more touches, Eunsang finds himself unable to return it without feeling as though he has committed a sin.

And the muffled apology that slips out of the younger’s lips, the faint trace of alcohol that enters Eunsang’s nose as he feels his breath against the curve of his neck — /god/.

Yoon Sanghoon is a sun in a faraway galaxy, a star he will never be able to grasp even if he were to reach for him from the clouds. And Eunsang — how /foolish/ had he been to think that he has forsaken his chances? How much longer can he hold out until he finally succumbs to his greed, until his body moves against his will and his lips crash against Sanghoon’s—

“Stop,” he chokes out, fingers trembling as his nails dig into the fabric of the sofa. Since when did Sanghoon become so /cruel/? He tilts his head upwards and blinks the tears away from his eyes, only for them to come back in an instant and blur his vision. “Please don’t,” comes out of his mouth in a hoarse whisper, a plea for Sanghoon to stop torturing him with whatever the hell this is.

Because it hurts. It ing hurts.

Eunsang can’t help but let out a humorless chuckle when their eyes meet, both glinting in the same utter desperation under a thin layer of tears. He can’t remember the last time he cried in front of someone, yet here he is, wiping the tears from his eyes as if it would change the fact that he’s /crying/ in front of Sanghoon. He curses how easily he crumbles in front of the younger, how it only takes some semblance of hope and reassurance from his words for Eunsang to drop his act, letting his vulnerability seep into his facade he’s kept up for so long.

And he /hates/ how his gaze ends up returning to the other’s lips as he speaks, and oh how desperately he wants to shut him up with a kiss before he could say another apology—

Forgive him just this once for being selfish.

He brings a hand up to cup the younger man’s face and runs a calloused thumb across the soft skin of his cheeks. Sanghoon is here now, and that’s all that matters. Eunsang lets out a quiet, gentle shush as he stares at him with intent eyes, committing even the most subtle details of his features to his memory, no matter how disheveled Sanghoon may look. “Don’t say another word. Please.”

Then he runs another hand through Sanghoon’s locks, making its way down to his nape. The image of Yeonwol’s apathetic, distant look crosses his mind once. And then comes Sungjoo, bless Sungjoo, his slurred words speaking out his utmost sober thoughts that had caught him off guard. And Eunsang feels terrible — of course he does. But Sanghoon is right here with him, and in the end, they’re two lonely souls trapped in the uncertainty of their lives. Their future.

So forgive him for being selfish.

“Sanghoon-ah,” he whispers, a stray tear rolling down his left cheek. “I hope you forgive hyung for what I’m about to do.”

And with that he tilts his head to the right and closes his eyes as he guides himself closer towards the younger with the help of his arms, tears soaking the corner of his parted tiers as he presses them against Sanghoon’s, planting a fervent kiss on his lips.

@『 ✮ 』eunsang seo。 Ah.

It seems that maybe, some things can't be fixed with an attempt at humor. The reminder of their fans and expectations sits heavy on Eunsang's lips, and weighs even heavier on Sanghoon's mind. That's right — he didn't just disappoint his friends, didn't he? They had thousands of fans waiting for them now, all because he had chosen to break /his/ heart so cruelly. And worse, the fact that Eunsang let such a heartbreaking fact slip from his lips so easily — it's a sign that things cannot be brushed aside with an attempt at making things easier, simpler. Even if Sanghoon tries, maybe there's nothing that can truly distract them from the reality that they've been forced to face.

And who forced them to face it? None other than Sanghoon himself.

Still, it's easier to listen to Eunsang's steady breathing from his place against his shoulder, and Sanghoon lets it relax him into thinking that maybe things aren't as bad as they seem. (Lies. They're worse.) Eunsang's touch soothes him nonetheless, sedated into a sense of calm that he's sure he doesn't deserve. Why had he even bothered trying to make things lighter, knowing that Eunsang probably feels responsible for all this as the leader?

And then Eunsang speaks, deep, shaky breaths leaving his lips, and Sanghoon knows that whatever this is, it's serious. He looks up at his old friend then, preparing himself for the worst — accusations, anger, blaming, criticism, rebuking, reprehension — all the things he'd told himself the others would direct towards him. In the silence of his room, Sanghoon had convinced himself the others would hate him, would blame him, and fear grips his heart as he steels himself for whatever Eunsang will ask him, a chance at his worst fears coming to fruition.

But instead, Eunsang doesn't seem angry — no, it's worse than anger.

It's misery.

And Sanghoon thinks, how selfish must he have been? How selfish must he be to stay locked in his apartment, depriving Eunsang of the company he so rightfully deserves? Sanghoon would argue that he knows Eunsang best, that the older has the tendency to whittle away at his own feelings for the sake of others — and yet, Sanghoon could only ever care about himself as Eunsang was forced to look after the others. It may be his responsibility as the leader, but the sorrow and distress in his tone alone speak volumes of the tribulations he's had to endure. And yet, Sanghoon had done nothing to help his friend. He'd only kept everyone at a distance, wallowing in his own self pity.

No, this is worse than anger. Nothing tears him apart better than the guilt of seeing Eunsang so utterly lonesome in his endeavor to help the others cope.

Sanghoon can't say anything at first. So instead, all he can do is pull Eunsang even closer, wrapping his arms around the older's waist as he buries his face into the crook of his neck. What Sanghoon can't say in words, he makes up for with actions — and right now, the only thing he can muster is a tight embrace.

Pathetic.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, and tears begin to sting at his eyes. ", I'm so sorry. You must have had it hard, hyung. And I didn't— I couldn't even help you. What kind of friend am I?"

He laughs then, but it's bitter. Hollow. Empty.

Sanghoon keeps his arms wrapped around Eunsang securely, but he looks up to meet his gaze, almost begging for him to understand. (It feels similar to the sensations that had stormed in his heart on the night that everything changed. Sanghoon wonders when he'll stop trying to excuse his own actions.)

"I don't have any excuses," he says, and a bitter smile plays at his lips. How much more pathetic is he going to get? "I just— I'm sorry, hyung. It's my fault, I should have... I should have called you sooner." Deep breath. "But I'm here now."

@『 ✮ 』sanghoon yoon。 Eunsang murmurs a small “thank you” as he pulls the tab open and brings the can up to his lips, but the cold metal has barely touched his bottom tier when he stops moving his arm. He watches Sanghoon down his beer with ease — too much ease that it scares him, as if the heap of empty cans in the trash isn’t enough to make his heart drop. He casts his gaze downwards before the younger could notice the glint of worry in his eyes, unable to see the state Sanghoon is in. Sanghoon, who Eunsang considers to be even more put together than he is at times. Sanghoon, who Eunsang finds himself relying on more often than he’d like to. Sanghoon, who just… deserves so much more.

And if he could, he would shoulder all the burden Sanghoon carries if that’s what it takes to see him happy again.

But for now, he reminds himself that he’s their leader, that he’s still responsible for them — for Sanghoon. Eunsang takes a tiny sip of beer from his can and sets it aside, forcing a chortle out of his mouth as Sanghoon accepts his banter and sways them further away from the issue, much to his surprise. “Right, that tweet,” he says, snapping his fingers twice as he rests his elbow on the couch’s armrest. He fixes his gaze on the ceiling and pretends to mull over it — anything to avoid looking at the younger man. “The fans thought that it was some sort of spoiler or something, thought we were coming back—”

He doesn’t know whether he should thank or blame himself for his slip of the tongue, because now there’s no way to dance around the tension in the air anymore. He doesn’t say another word as he grabs his can and drains more than half of its content. An audible sigh escapes his parted lips. He says a silent prayer in his head before he gathers the last bit of courage in him to finally meet Sanghoon’s eyes.

But before he could do that, he feels the familiar plumpness of the younger’s cheek pressing against his shoulder. The sight of Sanghoon’s long, delicate eyelashes greets him upon turning his head, eyelids concealing the tired look in his eyes. Eunsang’s gaze trails down to his lips as he speaks, breath hitching upon hearing the distinguishable low timbre of the younger’s voice. He looks… peaceful, and Eunsang feels bad for taking it away and making the air feel heavy again. He tries to compensate for it by tilting his head and resting his temples against Sanghoon’s locks, which only made him feel guiltier. Sanghoon doesn’t shy away from physical contact — he’s picked up that much after knowing and observing him for many years. But somehow it’s different when they’re both seeking comfort from each other, when Eunsang is still hopelessly, madly in love—

He wonders if he should be doing this at all.

Does he have any questions for him? The short answer would be yes, his mind has been flooded with a plethora of questions, each and every one of them hanging at the tip of his tongue, but Eunsang can’t bring himself to ask them all. But perhaps there are some things he’s better off not knowing. Right now, he too, just wants some company. Eunsang is tired — he’s tired of putting on a facade and pretending to be strong. He’s tired of acting selfless.

He doesn’t bother to hide the shakiness of his breath as he responds, “I do have something I’ve been wanting to ask you.” A fleeting moment of silence surrounds them as his mind scrambles for words. This isn’t something he has rehearsed before, no — it’s him going against his conscience for once.

“What took you so long to call me, Sanghoon?”

@『 ✮ 』eunsang seo。 Eunsang's eyes drift off to the trash bin, chock full of already discarded beer cans, and Sanghoon truly wonders what's on the elder's mind. It's been a while since he's fallen into a rut like this, and since they've begun their career as Ozone Layer, Sanghoon doesn't think he's ever let it get this bad. He's grateful, somewhat, that Eunsang hasn't really said anything about his disheveled state just yet — but then again, Eunsang knows him better than almost anyone. Surely, he knows how to handle a situation like this.

Or maybe he doesn't — because if he doesn't, that's okay too. Just his company is enough.

Sanghoon makes a beeline towards his fridge, pulling it open to retrieve two cans of beer. It's then that he takes a seat beside Eunsang, popping one open and handing it to the older. He's quick to open and start drinking his own, leaning his head back against the plush of the couch to listen to Eunsang intently. He'll live, or so he says — but at this point, Sanghoon doesn't know if that's good enough. Because even though he feels hollow inside, deprived of one of the only things that give him joy, he'll live, won't he? It can't exactly classify as being /fine/, and the years they've spent together have made Sanghoon somewhat observant of the older's feelings. It can't be easy, having to be the one to hold himself together when everything around them is falling apart.

And yet, here Eunsang is. Sanghoon isn't sure he deserves someone so... comforting.

But he isn't going to kick Eunsang out just because of his insecurities. No, instead he chuckles along with the older, taking a lazy swig of his beer as he tilts his head, smiling. "She's as crazy as ever. Tweeted something about tuberculosis the other day, did you see that? Sometimes I think her weird rambling is enough to give me TB," he jokes, playing along with the attempt at easing the tension. Because that's what they need right now, isn't it? A reminder of how light-hearted things used to be, how... easy. How natural.

It's definitely not natural now, considering all the clutter and garbage littered around Sanghoon's normally spotless apartment. Not to mention the beer — he thinks his alcohol tolerance has increased since the break up.

But then Eunsang asks him a question, and Sanghoon focuses his gaze on the older, inspecting him closely. He's hesitant, or so it seems — tiptoeing around the issue, around the tension that had been building up between the band, only for it to explode at an inopportune moment — and Sanghoon doesn't blame him. Why would he? To visit the cause of the band's hiatus to offer him support that he doesn't deserve? It's something Eunsang, and only Eunsang could do. And Sanghoon thinks that it's probably why he'd asked for him, out of all the others.

Eunsang just knows him best.

Sanghoon shuts his eyes, leaning his cheek against Eunsang's shoulder in an attempt at easing both of them out of this tension they've found themselves in. Eunsang is comforting in so many ways, and if Sanghoon rests his weight on the older's own, he just hopes it doesn't bother him. "Nothing in particular," he murmurs, and it's true. His head feels too empty to prompt any serious discussions. "I just... I just wanted your company, you know? Plus, I'm not sure if the others would be open to seeing me right now," he admits the latter half in a small voice, before covering it up with a thin smile, peering up at the older. "What about you? Got any questions for me?"

@『 ✮ 』sanghoon yoon。 Eunsang pushes his shoes against the wall before rushing over to help him clean up, picking up a couple of empty cans and tossing them into the nearest trash bin. The smile on his face drops upon further inspecting the living room, eyebrows knitted into a slight frown. Despite having known each other for a long time, it's his first time seeing Sanghoon this... pitiful. It's not just the mess in his apartment, no — it's the exhaustion reflected against his dark eyes, the hoarse voice that finally greets him after a moment of prolonged silence as they bury themselves in each other's embrace. It's the way Sanghoon pulled him in without even the slightest hint of hesitation, catching him off guard and leaving him in an odd state between numbness and feeling everything at once.

He plops himself down the couch once they've cleared the space, gaze trailing after Sanghoon in mild confusion. "Beer..." he repeats, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes then darts towards the trash bin, empty cans sticking out among its other content. His chest drops as he lets out a breath of air, fingers idly tapping against his thighs. He wonders if it's a good idea to have another drop of alcohol when they're both a train wreck of emotions, with Sanghoon having too many cans overflowing his bin already and Eunsang... well, the fact that he barely remembers what he's like when he's drunk speaks for itself.

The winters in Los Angeles is nowhere as cold as the ones they have back home, but somehow the air has gotten more frigid lately and he finds himself craving for more liquor than usual. "That's fine," he says with a shrug, finally giving in after taking his time to ponder. It's one stupid decision after another, he thinks, but when is he ever not irrational and dumb with Sanghoon around? "I suppose having a can won't hurt."

If there's anything he picked up after living life under the spotlight — no, after having people expect him to be fine at all times, it's the ability to tell those people that he is indeed /fine/, regardless of what he actually feels. So why does he find it hard to tell Sanghoon that? He's alright, he's not about to fall into pieces and let himself rot, he'll find a way to make it work — he has it all rehearsed in his head, so why can't he let those words escape his mouth?

Is it because deep down, he knows that Sanghoon won't believe him?

"I'll live," is what he settles for instead, voice laced with enough nonchalance to not draw worry from the other, but also not too indifferent to let him know that he cares. "I haven't had the chance to check up on noona, but she seems to be doing alright from what I've seen on social media. Hopefully." He lets out a small chuckle in a vain attempt to lighten the mood. The air still feels heavy with the events leading to the announcement of their hiatus looming over them, and of course, the news itself.

"Was there anything you wanted to talk to me about?" he asks tentatively. It's been ages since they last had a proper talk (which is entirely Eunsang's fault), and he just... doesn't know how or where to begin.

@『 ✮ 』eunsang seo。 Distractions have always been Sanghoon's safe haven — at first, distracting himself had come in the form of working himself to the bone, poring over books and notes and assignments. And then, distraction came in the form of music, slowly making way for a distraction in the form of his friends, always so ready to welcome him with open arms. But now that his friends have drifted off, he's stuck wallowing in self pity, in dire need of something to pull his thoughts away from the heartbroken tears he'd seen that fateful night, seemingly etched into the confines of his vacant, hollow mind.

Maybe distraction can come in the form of Eunsang this time — Eunsang, who so readily accepted the responsibility of watching over them all since day one. Deep down, maybe Sanghoon knows that he shouldn't be so selfish, that the hiatus has affected them all, that maybe Eunsang needs his own support — but he's been selfish for so long now, hasn't he? He's cruel, and unfair, and selfish, and the words seem to reverberate in his head in a voice that sounds suspiciously like /his./ Surely Eunsang wouldn't mind if this once — just this once, he could be selfish.

(Stupid. He had that same thought with a certain ex lover, and look where that got him.)

"Thanks, hyung," he says, and he means it. Eunsang brings comfort in a way that nearly no one else can, and when he gestures towards the living room, Sanghoon is rather quick to rush over, cleaning up the discarded clutter laying around — paper, tissue, takeout boxes, beer cans — it's a mess, really, and maybe he should have thought this through. He's known to be quite neat and orderly, so he has to wonder how it must look to the older — how he must look right now. As awful as he feels, he wonders? "Sorry, it's kind of a mess right now— didn't really clean up."

He takes a seat on the couch once finished expecting Eunsang to follow after him — before he realizes. "Ah, wait, — want anything to drink? Or something? I have some beer and... well, beer," he asks sheepishly. Is he normally this awkward? He can't recall. It feels like it's been forever since he's been around his friends, even though it probably hasn't even been that long. It's easy to forget how things used to be — how he used to be, now that everything's a mess. "I also haven't gotten to ask yet, but... how are you? After... well, everything I mean."

@『 ✮ 』sanghoon yoon。 The door swings open much quicker than he had anticipated. His eyes widen for a split second upon seeing Sanghoon behind it, but before he could regain his composure, he finds himself falling into the younger man's embrace. Eunsang lets the silence following the firm click from the door envelop them, his arms finding their way around Sanghoon's torso before returning the hug, albeit quite reluctantly. He can only pray that Sanghoon is unable to feel how his heart is pounding against his chest. He'd blame it on his fear, his anxiety — but he's well aware that it's something beyond that.

God, why does this have to be so damn awkward?

But at least he can breathe out a sigh of relief now, because at least Sanghoon doesn't seem to want him to leave. He lets Sanghoon pull away first before he finally lets go, returning the smile adorning his (pretty) face with the most natural-looking smile he could muster. "No, no, don't worry," he dismisses with a wave. Eunsang locks his eyes onto his for as long as he can manage and immediately notices how exhausted the other looks, perhaps even more than he is. The usual sparkle in his eyes has disappeared, and it breaks his heart to see him like this.

"I can imagine." He can't. "Just know that I'm here for you no matter what." How many times is he going to repeat that to his bandmates over and over again? It feels like an empty promise the more he says it — especially now that the band is in an absolute shambles and there's /nothing/ he can do about it. It'll be okay, he wants to say, but they both know that it would be a blatant lie. He decides not to continue speaking and instead reaches an arm out to pat Sanghoon's back.

He motions towards the living room with a raised eyebrow as a silent way to ask if he could come in. "Let's just take our minds off this for a bit, yeah?" he says, shifting his gaze towards the floor as he removes his shoes out of habit. Granted, it's not the best idea, but Eunsang just can't bring himself to address the elephant in the room. Not when he feels the all too familiar lump in his throat, telling him that it's only a matter of time before his tears start coming back.

@『 ✮ 』eunsang seo。 Sanghoon doesn't know how to feel.

Although that's not really a surprise, is it?

It's been... awfully quiet these past few days, despite everything that's been going on, and Sanghoon thinks it's just a testament to how much his life had revolved around his friends — Sungjoo, Hayan, Hojoon, Eunsang, and... well, him, of course. Even his name is painful to think about, and what with the awkward tension between the others, Sanghoon's quickly realized that this had quite possibly been the worst decision of his entire life. Not simply because he misses his ex lover, no — it's also because he misses his friends, and how they used to be. But he's made his choice, and no matter how many empty snippets of sad songs he can come up with, he doesn't think they'll go back to how they used to be any time soon.

But at least, Eunsang is trying. Ever so responsible, selfless Eunsang — leave it to him to be the most put together in a time like this (that he knows of, at least).

And so, Sanghoon doesn't question it when he hears the doorbell ring a little too quickly, only pulls open the door to see Eunsang standing there, and relief fills his heart. Call him paranoid, but the treacherous parts of Sanghoon's brain can only blame himself for this whole ordeal — he'd broken /his/ heart, hadn't he? He'd been the reason the band had to take a hiatus in the first place. He is the reason they're so much more distant now, the reason he can't look any of them in the eye, the reason everything has gone to . And he wouldn't blame then — any of them — if they hated him. Because right now? Sanghoon hates himself.

Still, when Eunsang stands in front of him, a welcome sight — it's almost a reflex for him to tug the older into his apartment, shutting the door behind him and pulling him into a tight, desperate hug.

He'd say thank you, if he could — thank you for coming here, for not hating me. But the words don't leave his lips, and he instead takes a moment to inhale Eunsang's presence — soothing, comforting, reassuring.

And then he pulls away, a sheepish smile playing at his lips, tired eyes glazing over. "Sorry, hyung," he chuckles, throat raspy. "I guess I've just been a little lonely."

@『 ✮ 』sanghoon yoon。 Eunsang arrives in front of Sanghoon's door exactly twenty-nine seconds after he left his unit, which leaves him enough time to linger around the hallway before he announces his presence to the latter. He doesn't know why he even counted in the first place, but somehow it helps him take his mind off the burden weighing down on him — until it starts flooding back again.

Whatever remaining strength he has left starts slipping away from his body, legs trembling as he struggles to support himself. Regret starts crawling into his thoughts, telling him to turn back and retreat into the safety of his own place. The last time he checked, Yeonwol didn't want to see him and he can't help but wonder if the other band members feel the same — if Sanghoon feels the same. The mask he has so skillfully put on for the past god-knows-how-many years is slowly chipping away, cracking with every second he passes succumbing to the voices in his head telling him how he has failed them.

Eunsang doesn't feel like a failure. He /is/ a failure.

But he keeps his feet as steady as possible on the ground for the man on the other side of the door. Sanghoon has had it worse, much worse — and he can't afford to crumble especially in front of him. So he brings a hand up to rub away the tears glossing his eyes, a smile forcing its way to his lips before he gives the doorbell a gentle push. He's done this countless of times before. There's no way Sanghoon would notice, would he?

"Sanghoon?" He curses the way his voice falters ever so slightly as he calls his name — the way he immediately becomes /weak/ at the mere thought of the other man. "Sanghoon? It's me."