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A loud thud echoes through the dressing room. The lively chatter from moments before, still warm from the high of their final performance, dies instantly.
Shin Jaehyun ignores the stunned faces and hushed whispers of their staff—their curious eyes fixed on him. For someone who’s spent most of his life perfecting the art of being the ideal idol, effortlessly slipping into that polished image the second another living, breathing person was near, the man standing before them now is a far cry from the Cheongryeo they’ve always known.
The act—so second nature, so deeply ingrained it might as well be instinct—unravels, thread by thread. Because right here, in this moment, Shin Jaehyun couldn’t care less.
His brows furrow, jaw clenched tight as he stares at Ryu Gunwoo before him, pinned against the cold wall. Still, Shin Jaehyun hasn’t lost all control just yet—hasn’t grabbed his hyung by the collar and shouted in his face, even if that’s all he really wants to do. He simply stands there, staring, eyes locked on that blank expression looking back at him like a shard of glass in his chest, and says nothing.
He tries to speak, he really does. But when Jaehyun opens his mouth, all that escapes is a ragged, shallow breath.
He looks down. The fist pressed against the concrete wall trembles, shaking with the rest of him.
Silence stretches for a moment, until Ryu Gunwoo’s voice cuts through it, bringing everyone back to the present.
A hand rests on Jaehyun’s shoulder.
It doesn’t grip, doesn’t hesitate. It’s not comforting, not cold—just steady, detached. Placed with a measured calm that only twists the shard already embedded in Shin Jaehyun’s chest.
“I apologise for the inconvenience,” Gunwoo says evenly. “But could everyone give us some privacy? Jaehyun isn’t feeling well.”
The staff begins to shuffle out, uncertain and slow. Ryu Gunwoo murmurs his thanks, calm as ever. But three remain in place, frozen with concern.
“Hyung…” Chaeyul nervously starts.
“It’s fine, you guys. Everything will be fine,” Gunwoo assures. “Can you let the manager know that all the staff can take their leave? And get him to send you guys back first. Jaehyun and I need to talk.”
“But hyung—”
Gunwoo shakes his head. The three members hesitate, but eventually nod and take their leave, not saying a single thing.
When the door closes with a soft click, Shin Jaehyun feels a hand wrap around his own trembling one. There’s a quiet click of the tongue as Ryu Gunwoo notices the torn cloth of Jaehyun’s glove. He frowns. “You’re not the one quitting, so why are you going around punching walls and acting like this? Are you trying to ruin your image?”
The moment the words leave Ryu Gunwoo’s lips, Shin Jaehyun’s recoils, as if struck. His ears ring; his chest hollows. It lands like a blow to the gut, knocking the air out of him as he struggles to breathe.
It’s only a few words, a few questions, but Shin Jaehyun feels like his entire world has come crashing down.
Ah. So it’s true, then.
“You’re really not renewing your contract…” Shin Jaehyun says quietly. It’s not an accusation, just pure resignation.
Ryu Gunwoo chuckles under his breath and gives him a small nod. “...I am not.”
“Why?”
It’s a stupid question. He knows it is. Ryu Gunwoo is the type to keep his thoughts to himself—quiet, closed off, and oh so stubborn. The kind of person who wouldn’t give him an answer, even if he begged.
But right now, it’s the only thing Shin Jaehyun can seem to do.
When no answer comes, he asks again, softer this time. His voice thins, fraying at the edges. “Gunwoo-hyung. Why?”
“It’s… not something you’ll understand.”
“And why do you think I won’t?”
“Because you love being an idol,” Gunwoo replies, as if that answers anything. “The only reason you’ve made it this far is how much you love the stage.”
A strangled laugh leaves the back of Jaehyun’s throat. “What are you talking about, hyung? You…”
You and I are the same. You love this too. You love being an idol just as much as I do. You love performing, singing for the fans. Your heart softens when you hear them call out your name, your eyes wide and bright on stage.
“You can’t be serious. Are you joking right now? I find that hard to believe from you, of all people, hyung. You.”
He sounds frantic. Pleading. Lost.
“Jaehyun-ah,” Gunwoo calls out gently.
His dependable hyung, someone who’s always been by his side from the very beginning. The one who chose to walk into LeTi’s building after Jaehyun had convinced him—firmly, almost desperately—to debut together. His only hyung, who gritted his teeth and practiced through exhaustion without complaint, who stayed quiet about injuries just to keep the performance going.
And now, this same hyung looks at him with a smile so soft, and says: “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Jaehyun stands there, dazed. His mind reels, thoughts crashing into one another, slipping through his fingers before he can make sense of them. That look, that gaze—there’s no way that Ryu Gunwoo is telling him the truth. Not with those bloodshot eyes, not with that pained expression.
He’s always known that this hyung of his never says what he truly feels, always hiding them behind sharp words despite his actions that say otherwise. And this? This feels no different. Like another lie dressed in calm.
But then why?
Why would he want to quit at all?
Why won’t he stay?
“I know it’s hard to accept,” Gunwoo says quietly. “But you’ll have to, eventually.”
Jaehyun says nothing.
Then, after a beat, Gunwoo steps past him with a gentle nudge. “I’ll take my leave first, then.”
His tone is firm, like he thinks that’s the end of it, but the conversation is far from over.
Before Ryu Gunwoo can reach the door, Shin Jaehyun pulls him back and pins him down against the dressing table.
“Should I just kidnap you, tie you up and forge your signature?” he murmurs, a scoff curling beneath his breath. “I feel like that might actually work.”
“Hey, Shin Jaehyun,” Ryu Gunwoo warns. “I’ve always let you do whatever you wanted because, in the end, you still listened to me—and because you’ve always done what’s best for the group. But now? You’re not even going to respect my decision?”
“How am I supposed to listen to you when you won’t even talk to me, hyung?” Jaehyun laughs dryly.
Gunwoo’s voice rises, jaw clenched. “How hard is it for you to understand that I don’t want to renew my contract?!”
“But why?!” Jaehyun practically shouts—then falters. His voice drops to a whisper. “I keep asking you why, but all you do is hide the truth from me. You’ve never once acted as though you intended to leave. There were no signs.” He takes in a shuddered breath. “I’ve considered every logical explanation I can think of, but none of it makes sense. So why are you suddenly doing this now, hyung?”
“…It’s got nothing to do with you.”
“Of course it does,” Shin Jaehyun says through clenched teeth. “Even if… even if all we are are mere members of the same team, that should be reason enough for you to talk to me. But you won’t. It’s as if you don’t trust me.”
“That’s not…” But Gunwoo doesn’t finish. He just looks away.
Silence, again.
Jaehyun exhales slowly, something shifting in his eyes.
“If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine,” he yields. He places his lips next to Gunwoo’s ear, changing his tune. “Shall we do something else, then? Hmm?”
He doesn’t miss the way his hyung shudders. He pushes Gunwoo down with his full weight, bodies pressed together, as he palms Gunwoo’s flaccid cock beneath the thin material of his pants. Shin Jaehyun grins when the older man quickly grows erect. “Let’s do something you’d like to do too. Might as well while we still can. I mean, this is the last time something like this will ever happen, right? Haha.”
“What are you—!?”
He swiftly unbuckles Gunwoo’s pants, ignoring his struggle. “What? There’s no need to act shy now, hyung. You’re 5 years too late for that.”
“Are you crazy?” Gunwoo hisses. “There are people still outside.”
Shin Jaehyun is unmoved. “Does it even matter?”
“Of… course it matters. If somebody walks in, if someone finds out—VTIC will be ruined forever.”
VTIC will already be ruined forever, hyung. It’s already ruined.
Shin Jaehyun doesn’t respond. He simply tugs the black fitted slacks down, letting them pool at Gunwoo’s ankles.
“Then feel free to push me away anytime you’d like, Gunwoo-hyung.” He loosens his hold on the older man without hesitation, giving Gunwoo the freedom to make his decision. But he gently grinds his knee against Gunwoo’s hard-on, soft whimpers spilling from Gunwoo’s lips as he continues to tease him. With leather-gloved fingers, Jaehyun traces the curve of Gunwoo’s spine, exposed by the large cutout at the back of his shirt, part of the stage outfit styled for their latest title track.
“Not going to stop me and save VTIC, hyung?” Jaehyun murmurs, lips brushing the dip of Gunwoo’s shoulder blade, before sinking into it, tongue and teeth leaving behind a bloom of bruises like petals on pale skin. Gunwoo bites down on the back of his hand to stifle any sounds.
Shin Jaehyun smiles, ignoring the dull throb swelling inside.
“See. You can stop me—but you won’t.” His gloved hand spreads across the bare skin, admiring the masterpiece he’s left behind. “How pretty. Do you think people would think the same if you walked out of the room like this?”
“You’re insane,” Gunwoo breathes, chest rising and falling too fast.
Jaehyun carefully sweeps Gunwoo’s bangs aside, making sure they don’t fall into his eyes. “Mm, yeah. I think I might be,” he replies softly, pausing as his gaze lingers on the flush creeping down Gunwoo’s neck. Then, he bites gently at the shell of his ear, warm breath ghosting over it.
“But I’m crazier about you.”
Shin Jaehyun slips a hand beneath the band of Gunwoo’s underwear, chuckling when it’s all a sticky mess.
“You’re already this wet? I’ve barely done anything, hyung.” He brings his hand to Gunwoo’s face. “Look. You’re dripping all over my glove. We won’t be able to use it anymore.”
Gunwoo grits his teeth. “It’s not my problem you don’t even know how to take off your gloves, you crazy bastard.”
But he’s forced to bite back a moan when Shin Jaehyun pulls his underwear down, fingers wrapping around his length, stroking it roughly.
Quickening his pace, Jaehyun lets out a low hiss seeing the expression on Gunwoo’s face. His bitten red lips slightly parted, his glossy eyes lidded. With a free hand, he grabs Gunwoo’s chin and forces him to look at his reflection. He gently thumbs his leaking tip. “You seem to like it a lot, though. Did you have secret fantasies whenever you saw me wearing gloves?”
He glares at Jaehyun through the mirror. “I’m not you.”
“You’re not wrong,” Shin Jaehyun laughs and continues to play with his dripping cock, pumping it hard and slow. “Even now, I keep thinking about what it would feel like if I just thrust myself all over your back.”
“I— hahh —don’t wanna know,” Gunwoo says between haggard breaths.
“Haha. Well, that’s too bad! Then how about this?”
He turns Gunwoo around and lifts him up by the waist, propping him on top of the empty dressing table. Removing the bottom half of Gunwoo’s clothes entirely, he kneels down and presses his lips against the tip of Gunwoo’s throbbing cock as he speaks. “I’ll suck you off and let you cum on my face. I bet you’ve thought of that at least once. You like my face, don’t you?”
Jaehyun gives him one last smile before taking him whole, down his throat in one go. Hands immediately latch onto his head as he skillfully flattens his tongue to take Ryu Gunwoo in deeper, eagerly bobbing his head as the sweet sound of moans enter his ears.
“ Mngfh’ —Chaeyul’s is… better,” Gunwoo retorts, fingers naturally tangling themselves within Jaehyun’s hair.
Shin Jaehyun licks a stripe up Gunwoo’s cock in a teasing, languid motion, tongue flicking over his slit. “I know I’m not your type, but I’m still good looking. That’s undeniable,” he grins before wrapping his lips around Gunwoo again, leaning in further to let the shaft slide down his tongue. He hums contentedly when Gunwoo’s fingers tug on his hair to pull him closer, thrusting shallowly into his mouth.
When he feels Gunwoo’s cock start to twitch, Jaehyun simply grips Gunwoo’s waist to keep him in place, letting it graze the back of his throat. Gunwoo’s legs, wrapped around Shin Jaehyun, quiver as he convulses, back arching as he chases after Shin Jaehyun’s heat.
Just before Gunwoo reaches his climax, Shin Jaehyun pulls away from Gunwoo and lets him spill his cum all over his face, as promised. The hot and wet fluid sticking to his cheeks is not at all pleasant, and he even has to shut an eye, his lashes stained by Gunwoo’s semen, but Shin Jaehyun finds it hard to be bothered when Ryu Gunwoo is staring at him like that—eyes glazed over, cheeks tinged pink.
Soft panting fills the room.
“That’s a lot of cum,” Jaehyun observes casually, his voice hoarse but steady as Ryu Gunwoo fights to steady his breathing. “Pent up?”
“Shut up… we haven’t done… this in a while.”
“That’s true.”
And we won’t be doing it ever again, his mind adds quietly.
Shin Jaehyun swallows down the bitter taste in his mouth. He reaches out, grasping Gunwoo’s wrists and pulling him closer. Looking up, he offers a smile, wide-eyed and innocent, the kind of look his hyung always falls for.
“Hyung, can you help clean up the mess you made?” he asks, tilting his head, his bottom lip jutting out slightly.
Up close, Jaehyun notices the flicker of desire in Gunwoo’s eyes, a silent admission of the unspoken tension between them.
Gunwoo hesitates, his voice low. “Let go of me. I’ll go find some tissues.”
But Jaehyun only taps at Gunwoo’s lips playfully, his own voice a soft whisper. “Can’t you just use this?”
Gunwoo’s eyes dart away, the tips of his ears bright red. He waits for a reprimand, but instead, Jaehyun receives a silent nod.
Ryu Gunwoo closes the distance, licking the cum off his face. It tickles—soft and warm—and Jaehyun feels heat rise under his skin. He watches closely, eyes fixed on every subtle movement. Gunwoo huffs and covers his eyes with one hand.
“Stop looking,” he mutters, embarrassed.
But his hold is loose, and Shin Jaehyun can still see him through the gaps of his trembling fingers.
Jaehyun’s gaze shifts to Gunwoo’s tongue, watches as it glides across his lips and wonders how his hyung would taste. For the past 5 years since their entanglement began, not once have their lips touched—always hovering just a breath away, neither of them daring to close the distance. But since this was their last time, they should be able to kiss for once, right?
Shouldn’t he be allowed that much?
Almost magnetically, he lifts his chin as Ryu Gunwoo leans in. The kiss is chaste, tentative, and the bitterness of the situation feels a little sweeter the second their lips meet. He hears Gunwoo’s breath hitch, struck still, and Shin Jaehyun chases after his lips, eager to make the most of this fleeting moment.
He licks Gunwoo’s bottom lip impatiently, silently urging him to part his lips, to which Gunwoo complies after Jaehyun tugs it between his teeth. Jaehyun quickly pulls his gloves off, tossing them aside without a care. His fingers find Gunwoo’s back, pressing into the bare skin with a sense of urgency. His hands dance up his spine, splaying across the back of Gunwoo’s neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, which only turns more frenzied. A soft gasp leaves Gunwoo’s lips, and Jaehyun wonders why he hadn’t done this sooner. His head spins, overwhelmed. Is it too much to feel addicted after just one taste?
Ryu Gunwoo’s hands slowly begin to grip his chest, crumpling the fabric as he pulls him closer despite the uncertainty.
Sometimes, Shin Jaehyun finds that he likes his hyung better when he’s like this. Dishevelled, mind clouded with the high of pleasure, pushing aside any unnecessary thoughts to stop overthinking.
Relaxed. Not on edge.
Like he’s completely forgotten about everything that happened before this.
But Shin Jaehyun still needs Ryu Gunwoo to answer him.
They break apart—shallow, uneven breaths filling the space between them, mingling in the quiet aftermath as they rest their foreheads together. Everything feels warm and gentle. That is, until Shin Jaehyun shatters the fragile illusion with a pointed question.
“Why, Gunwoo-hyung?”
Gunwoo tenses, his jaw tightening before answering nonchalantly. “I thought we were over this.”
“We can’t be over this when you haven’t explained anything,” Jaehyun frowns. Frustration creeps into his tone as he narrows his eyes at Gunwoo. “Stop trying to run away.”
Gunwoo looks down, unwilling to meet his gaze. A brief silence hangs between them, the weight of the unsaid words pressing down on the room.
Then, without waring, Gunwoo lifts his gaze, eyes devoid of emotion, and says, voice dull: “Can’t you just shut up and fuck me?”
Shin Jaehyun stares at Gunwoo in disbelief. The brewing anger inside him momentarily stills, overtaken by a sudden wave of shock.
“We still have things to discuss—”
“You’re hard, though,” Gunwoo cuts him off. Shin Jaehyun grunts when Gunwoo presses on his hard-on with his foot.
“Hyung…”
“The only thing we need to discuss is this,” Gunwoo states flatly before spreading his legs apart. Brows knitted together, he bites his lip and uses his fingers to stretch his entrance open. “Here. Fuck me all you want.”
A strange heat builds behind Jaehyun’s eyes, his nose prickling as he watches his hyung come undone in that familiar, quiet, self-destructive way of his.
Was it so hard to just talk?
With a steadying exhale, he points out, “There’s no lube.”
Gunwoo’s voice is dismissive, tinged with finality. “It doesn’t matter. Just put it in already.” After all, it’s the last time, is what goes unsaid.
Jaehyun forces out a laugh, his voice tight. “I’ll just shove it in, then.”
“Sure.” Gunwoo shrugs, indifferent.
Despite how composed he sounds, Ryu Gunwoo doesn’t notice that he’s been shaking this whole time. But Shin Jaehyun does.
“Do you really have to go to such lengths?” he whispers, swallowing the heaviness lodged in his throat.
Ryu Gunwoo doesn’t answer him.
Jaehyun breathes in deeply, the cool air almost biting his lungs. He holds it for a moment, then sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he comes to a decision. He stands to his feet and dusts his knees, nodding at Gunwoo. “Fine. I’ll fuck you. Since that’s what you want.” Callously, he takes Gunwoo’s hands and brings them to his crotch. “Here. If you want me to fuck you that badly, you can take it off yourself.”
Gunwoo pauses for a moment, then begins to unbutton Shin Jaehyun’s pants—or he tries to, at least.
Jaehyun watches silently as he fumbles, again and again, all over one measly button. Unable to bear the sight, he grips Gunwoo’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Didn’t you want to do this?”
Gunwoo’s response is a vacant stare, eyes dim.
Releasing him, Jaehyun sucks in a breath. “I’ll do it myself. Just open your mouth, hyung.”
Gunwoo opens his mouth obediently and lets Shin Jaehyun stuff his fingers in his mouth. If Gunwoo was in the right state of mind, if this was his usual hyung, he would have scoffed at Jaehyun’s antics, saying, “Didn’t you say you were going to shove it in?” But the hyung before him merely sucks on his fingers, swirling his tongue around them. He doesn’t even blink as drool spills from his lips, all sloppy and dripping.
Seeing him like this, Jaehyun can’t help but add, “You said I wasn’t listening to you—that I wasn’t respecting your wishes. But haven’t I just been doing whatever you wanted?”
Gunwoo stays silent, continuing to take his fingers in deeper, all the way to his knuckles.
Jaehyun’s brow twitches.
“That’s enough,” he states, pulling his fingers away. He thumbs Gunwoo’s rim lightly, before slowly inserting a finger into the tight hole. “You’ll have to wait a bit longer, hyung.”
He stretches Gunwoo out, adding another finger once he’s more relaxed, Jaehyun’s other hand playing with the older man’s nipples protruding beneath the thin fabric. He leans down to suck and lick at it, regretting that he hadn’t just stripped his hyung completely a moment ago. But the damp spot clinging to his chest is just as sexy, and Jaehyun thumbs it with interest.
“Doesn’t it look like something came out of your nipples, hyung?” He squeezes it with a smile.
“Don’t…”
“Every bit of you is a wet mess,” Jaehyun remarks. “Just look at how much pre-cum your cock is dripping onto your clothes.”
He traces it lightly with a finger and laughs when Gunwoo jerks forward. “How cute. Don’t you think so? Perhaps you shouldn’t hold back your moans, so that everyone can come in and see you like this.”
His voice grows colder with each word, but Jaehyun can’t seem to stop no matter how surprised he is at himself. He’s never spoken to his hyung like this before—this biting tone usually reserved for dealing with the incompetence of their directors, the ones who sit in their offices making greed-driven decisions that affect their lives.
And maybe Ryu Gunwoo is just as shocked, his nails digging into Jaehyun’s skin, desperate as he tries to pull Jaehyun into a kiss to stop him from talking.
But Shin Jaehyun’s hand shoots up, blocking Gunwoo’s mouth before their lips can meet.
“What are you doing, hyung?” Jaehyun chuckles, the sound strained. His eyes are hot. “Are you really that desperate to get me to shut up? You could just open your mouth and tell me, but you never want to talk, do you?”
With a swift motion, Jaehyun unzips his pants, the sound loud and jarring in the silence.
He keeps his hand firmly over Gunwoo’s mouth, leaning in until his own lips rest just above the back of his fingers—close enough to feel the heat between them.
“It’s okay. Don’t say anything. We’re just going to fuck anyways,” he mutters with a laugh, his voice low. He lines his cock at Gunwoo’s entrance, then rams himself in, thrusting deep and slow.
Gunwoo doesn’t even try to push Jaehyun’s hand away or bite it to make him move, his sobs muffled in silence. Instead, he sits there. Letting Shin Jaehyun do whatever he wants, resigned, arms steady around Jaehyun’s neck. He doesn’t say a thing, just like Jaehyun asked.
This passivity—nothing like the Ryu Gunwoo he knows, who thrives on having things go his way, who can’t stand when anything throws off his plans—ignites something in him. His hands on Gunwoo’s waist clutch tighter as he pushes himself deeper into the warmth of his hole.
“Gunwoo-hyung,” he calls out, voice hoarse, thick with emotion. “Why?” A thrust. “Why, hyung?” Another thrust. The questions spill out in a steady, relentless rhythm as Jaehyun continues to fuck him—sometimes louder, sometimes softer.
But Jaehyun’s actions come to a slow, as he sees the first tear slipping down Gunwoo’s face.
The older man, drowning in his thoughts, doesn’t even realise the tears falling from his eyes. Jaehyun’s rib cage tightens at the sight, an ache spreading throughout him. Seeing his hyung this vulnerable before him pulls at something deep inside him, the fiery frustration that had been burning within him dissipating in an instant, extinguished by the very tears he had never wanted to see. The anger fades, leaving only a hollow sting that lingers in the pit of his stomach.
Gunwoo doesn’t notice any of this change, lost in his own turmoil. Distraught, he tugs on Shin Jaehyun’s choker, his fingers gripping the fabric with force, muttering frantically, “Stop talking, please.”
He pulls harder and harder, trying to regain control, until Jaehyun’s breathing begins to falter.
The pressure is sharp, and he feels himself choking, but in the strange stillness of the moment, at least Shin Jaehyun doesn’t have to think. Maybe this would be a good way to die. In his hyung’s arms. Before everything inevitably goes to hell.
But then, the pressure loosens. Air floods back into his lungs, and his eyes flutter as he gasps for breath. The fog in his mind clears for a moment, and as he fights to steady himself, he catches sight of Gunwoo—his hyung, staring at him with a mix of shock and guilt.
Gunwoo’s voice barely registers, but Shin Jaehyun hears it all the same.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s a phrase not typically spoken by someone like him—especially not to Shin Jaehyun.
Something inside Jaehyun shatters at those words. He doesn’t know if it’s from the lack of air earlier or if he’s really just lost his mind. The unshed tears that have been building finally fall, slowly sliding down his cheeks.
Jaehyun curls up into the crook of Gunwoo’s neck, pressing his forehead there, his breath shaking. “Does VTIC not mean anything to you? Do I not mean anything to you?”
He doesn’t notice how his shoulders start to tremble, nor the tears that continue to drip from the corners of his eyes, silently trailing down Gunwoo’s back.
His voice cracks as the words spill out, the pain in his chest palpable, aching with every question. “Can’t you stay? Why are you leaving me? Why, hyung?”
A pair of trembling hands hold the back of his head gently as Gunwoo draws him closer into an embrace.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs again, his voice wavering. “I’m sorry.”
Time passes in silence after that. Jaehyun sits alone in the dim dressing room, staring blankly ahead. Everyone else has already left the venue, and the place is completely still. Gunwoo included—quietly packing up his things, changing, and leaving without a word.
Jaehyun doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there. He doesn’t even know what time it is. He remains rooted in place, the apology that shouldn’t have come out of his hyung’s mouth replaying in his head.
Ryu Gunwoo didn’t need to apologise. There was nothing to apologise for.
He just needed to stay.
Streams of water fall over Ryu Gunwoo’s head as he stands beneath the shower, eyes fixed blankly on the white tiles. The water streaks silently down his cheeks.
When he arrived at the dorms just moments ago, the remaining members were still gathered in the living room—clueless, unaware. But they hadn’t asked anything when they saw his face. Not even when he walked past them without a word. Not even to ask where their leader was.
Now, there is only the sound of water dripping steadily down his back, over his lips, as though trying to wash away the traces of what happened in the dressing room.
But it doesn’t. It can’t.
He thinks back to it. Shin Jaehyun, of all people, begging. Shin Jaehyun, of all people, crying.
He remembers that single tear clinging to Jaehyun’s lower lashes for what felt like forever before it finally fell. The way more had followed, too easily.
It’s something he’s never seen before. And now that he has, he hopes he never will again.
His thoughts slip further back—to the first time they met. Cold, calculating eyes outside a coin karaoke room, asking if he wanted to debut together. Despite the sharp tone, the boy was still clearly wet behind the ears, desperate in a way he didn’t quite know how to hide. It was the only reason Gunwoo even considered the offer, moved by the other’s attempt.
The life they built from that fateful encounter was something harsh, demanding, and sometimes even cruel. But it was also beautiful. He found joy in it—the sweat down his back after every performance, the stage lights shining brightly above him, his four teammates always by his side.
But everything had shifted after a moment of weakness.
In a group like theirs—under a major agency, with never-ending schedules and relentless preparation—strict rules about personal lives weren’t just expected, they were enforced. They barely had time to meet anyone outside their team, not even fellow idols, so things like this were bound to happen. Two teammates, slightly tipsy after celebrating the end of their first tour. Two roommates, not thinking. The lock turned. Sheets tangled. Bodies pressed together.
Or maybe things were bound to happen because it was Shin Jaehyun.
Because when all is said and done, Ryu Gunwoo had grown fond of his younger teammate. The one who never listened to anyone but him.
The one who worked harder than anyone he’s ever known, staying behind after practice to perfect each movement, studying the best way to angle his arms or link one motion seamlessly into the next. Who trained his voice relentlessly, shifting his focus to tone and stability once he’d hit the ceiling of what he could improve. Who did everything he could for their team of five—for his dream—even if it sometimes meant resorting to underhanded methods.
Their late-night entanglements grew more frequent as time went by, but they never gave it a name. They couldn’t. They were teammates, and that was all they could ever be.
But things behind closed doors never stay hidden forever. One way or another, rumours start to spread. Management was the first to ask if there was something more between him and Shin Jaehyun. He denied it easily. It wasn’t a lie.
Because technically, there was nothing there to speak of.
Still, if whispers had reached the people in their building, what was to stop them from leaking further? From reaching fans?
And if that happened, everything that he and his members had worked so hard to build would come crumbling down.
He knows he could talk to Jaehyun about it. They could probably figure something out if they just sat down and discussed it.
But there are two main problems.
The first: Ryu Gunwoo isn’t sure if he can risk it—risk jeopardising everything Shin Jaehyun had worked so hard to achieve. Because he knows how much being an idol means to him, and there is nothing in the world that could justify taking that from him.
And the second, more important than anything else: there is no relationship to save.
Whatever this thing of theirs was, it had been nothing more than a way to relieve pressure. And in the 5 years since, this thing never became anything more.
So really, there is nothing to fix.
He shuts his eyes, presses his forehead against the cold wall, fists clenched tightly. He doesn’t want to waver, especially after it took everything in him to build his resolve.
It would be easier to simply pull away from the group, to step aside and give fans a valid reason they could symphathise with for why he wouldn’t renew his contract, just as he had planned. VTIC could go on without one member. He’s seen it happen with other groups. And VTIC has Shin Jaehyun.
A self-reproachful smile tugs at his lips, yet there’s a flicker of fondness in his eyes.
As it turns out, just as Shin Jaehyun is his weakness—he, too, will be Shin Jaehyun’s weakness.
He only joined VTIC to support someone else’s dream. And even if, somewhere along the way, that dream became his own, the reason he started never changed.