Work Text:
1)
It's not Suho’s fault he blurted that out.
Maybe a bit.
A lot.
But when his eyes landed on the weather reporter–he felt air leave his lungs.
[7 months ago]
Suho lets a crowd of maskers dust powder across his cheeks and forehead–his skin glows excessively under the bright reflectors. He repeats his opening line quietly, trying hard not to be nervous, but the slight twitch in his fingers gives him away at first sight.
The cameras are counting down. The producer calls the cue.
5.
He takes a deep breath.
4.
Okay, he's got this. Last five minutes of on-air narrating.
3.
He'll do good. He worked hard all evening.
2.
On the monitor behind Suho, the live feed switches to the weather reporter standing outside, snow sticking to his knitted brown jumper. The wind tosses his dark hair across his forehead, his face calm and focused.
Suho swallows, his eyes glued to the screen.
1.
Then, before he can stop himself, his mouth moves on its own. “Welcome back after a small commercial break, our weather anchor… is really pretty.”
His words hang in the air like a lightning strike. The control room freezes. The weather anchor blinks once, then chokes on his own spit.
Suho’s heart hammers in his chest. He clears his throat awkwardly and tries to move on, but the damage is done–the weather boy wheezes hopelessly, one hand covering his mouth while the other tries to push the camera lens away from his face in a try to keep the last bits of his dignity. Even fighting for his life he's angelic.
“I apologize,” Suho blurts out. Please, someone cut back to commercials, he wishes silently, but nothing happens. “Please share your forecast with us.”
The reporter finally recovers, regaining control of his lungs and facial expressions. He blinks once, then twice, before clearing his throat and opening his mouth.
“Good evening, Seoul. Yeon Sieun here. Wind speed has increased drastically, temperatures dropped below zero degrees Celsius. Expect similar conditions for the next two days. If possible, avoid all over-ground transport and plan your day around the subway,” he rambles professionally, voice flowing in a calm line, eyes focused on the camera.
When Suho hears something that sounds suspiciously like “back to the studio”, he perks up on his chair, heart beating excitedly against his ribcage. “Marry me.”
Silence.
“W-what?” Sieun stammers, the pixeled feed capturing his jaw hitting the metaphorical ground, eyes wide–a complete opposite to the calm, composed man was two minutes ago.
“Someone cut the feed!” a voice yells from behind the studio camera.
“We're trying to!” another voice answers, accompanied by frantic button-smashing.
“I’m in love with you,” Suho continues, completely unfazed.
“You met me two minutes ago…?”
Suho smiles. As if he could tell his heart not to jump at the sight of this man. No–Suho's decided. He'll make this Yeon Sieun like him. Hopelessly fall for him, even. To hell with his job. Seriously, have you seen those eyes? Really, really pretty. Criminal, even.
As if things couldn't get worse, Seokdae, YTN's general manager and Suho's hyung, bursts through the door, storming in like Hurricane Patricia–taking anything and everything with him. “Ahn Suho!” he hisses, waving at him with a stack of papers like it's a sword. “The script! Stick to the script!”
Sieun stares, then shakes his head slightly. “Jokes aside. I'd like to keep my job.”
“Is that a no?”
Someone in the background finally yells, “off-air! We turned it off! Back in 30 seconds.” A loud chorus of long and appreciative sighs and hums fills the studio. A few colleagues drop to their knees, cheeks stained with happy tears.
Suho doesn't care, instead, he turns around to stare at the bigger screen behind him even more intensively. The object of his ogling seems to be fighting the outside weather, holding his beanie down with one hand while wind attacks the pinkish apples of his cheeks. Sieun, who keeps sticking his index finger up, licking the pad, then angling it repeatedly, seems completely unaware of being watched.
“Hyung,” Suho asks, barely glancing over his shoulder at Seokdae. “Who is he?”
“Yeon Sieun, Doctor of Climate Studies and Meteorology. And very much off limits, you rascal,” his hyung replies dryly.
“What's he doing?”
“Measuring the direction of where your stupidity came from,” Seokdae snaps. “What were you thinking!”
“Back in 3…2…1!”
Suho presses a hand to his chest, sighing happily. “He's so dedicated. And pretty.”
Seokdae throws the script down and stomps on it with the force of a man who inflicts pain for breakfast. He rages in controlled silence–careful not to interrupt the broadcast even more–feet kicking the air, buttons popping from his tight button up shirt.
~
In mere hours, they go viral for the first time. The clip of Suho calling Sieun pretty and the latter blushing (blushing, definitely not just freezing cold as Suho insists while rewatching the footage late at night in the comfort of his apartment, slightly tipsy from company dinner) reaches unfathomable numbers.
By the next morning, said video has over three million views, thousands of comments, mostly positive feedback. YTN’s strategy meeting lasts all of five minutes.
It's decided the moment Seokdae walks in, dumps a folder of analytics on the table, and sighs. “They’re back on together tonight. Don’t let him agree to a date unless we get sponsorship first.”
Neatly drawn graphs, excel sheets showing–up until now–unreachable stats. Viewership increased by 70%, engagement almost doubled.
So YTN pairs them together the next day. And the next day. And the day after that…
2)
[now]
“...and assemblyman Oh left the courthouse with a four year old sentence for abusing his underaged child. We'll continue to monitor the situation and report back in tomorrow's news.”
The camera pans to Ahn Suho, a sharp-dressed man in his late twenties, with distinct features, prominent cheekbones and a really, really charming smile. A smile that says he knows the majority of people watch this channel for him, not for the reports. He taps the glass table with the freshly restacked pile of papers, half composed of outlined reports, half scribbled with the offhand jokes he'd managed to write down during off-air makeup breaks.
“That's all you'll get from me this week, Seoul. Now let's look at the weather,” Suho says and then–almost like the universe heard him out–a face pops up on a screen behind him.
Meet Yeon Sieun. A forecast reporter. And Suho's colleague-slash-crush of seven months. Sieun who rejected him exactly twenty-seven times, one for each Friday they've known each other.
Suho drags his eyes over the pixelated feed, taking in the man's focused expression, the way he holds himself a bit too straight, the way his dark eyes glow. He checks him out maybe too boldly for a weekday broadcast and then lets out an appreciative whistle.
“Well, if you ask me–” he starts, just as Sieun visibly flinches, the feedback from his earpiece connecting mid-sentence, “–I'd say the weather is looking pretty hot. What's up with the new haircut, Sieun-ssi? Trying to impress me?”
Sieun's face drops instantly, almost comically, like the sheer presence of Ahn Suho weighs him down, the man aging ten years in a span of two sentences.
He stands in the middle of the Han River park, hair disheveled and wind-swept. A couple of small twigs stick out of his dark locks, a big sweat stain around the collar of his shirt.
Even though he can't see Suho, Sieun knows exactly what that tone means: Suho's being his usual flirty, confident self, making advances while the whole country watches from the sidelines. It's the tone that secures them the number one trending hashtag on Twitter over and over again.
“It's hot and windy. Not everyone gets to slouch in a temperature-controlled studio all day, Suho,” Sieun shoots back, scoffing before slipping on his composed and empty work mask.
Suho leans forward, grinning as if this isn't the fifth time he's seen Sieun this week. On TV, of course, not in real life. As much as Suho would love to meet the Yeon Sieun, the man of his dreams, they don't do real.
They live in entirely different worlds: Suho, pampered in a sterile studio, surrounded by reflectors only barely brighter than his careless smile. Loved by many, envied by even more, always the centre of attention. Sieun, on the other hand, spends his days alone, getting challenged by outer elements–sharp wind that slaps him across the face, sun hot enough to burn maps into his honey-colored skin, cold rain that soaks him to the bone and often leaves him sneezing and trembling through the night.
And yet, he’s always there. Always on time. Earset in, posture straightened, ready to present his findings with utter devotion, focus and quiet excitement.
Sieun clears his throat. “Expect similar conditions tomorrow. The chance of rain has increased by 2.4%, though the drop in humidity–currently below 25%–is unusual for early June in Seoul. According to my calculations, the wind tomorrow will, once again, be southeastern and considered low-risk. Residents should stay hydrated and avoid direct sunlight for extended periods.”
Suho pretends to take him seriously. He really does. He keeps nodding along, offering charming smiles here and there, even a polite hum when Sieun finishes his monologue.
“Hydration...hmm, got it. What coffee do you drink, Sieun-ssi?”
Sieun opens his mouth, then closes it again like the mere sound of Suho asking him something not-weather-related pains him. “I don't see how that's relevant.”
Suho grins, completely unbothered by Sieun's sharpened tongue. “I thought we could hydrate together tomorrow. Since you're free and I’ll be off work by noon–it’d be a shame not to see each other on a pretty sunny day, wouldn't it?”
“I have plans,” Sieun says almost immediately.
Suho tilts his head, frowning just slightly.
Sieun isn't a sociable person. Far from it. In fact, Suho knows his only friend is Youngyi, a phenomenon-hunter streamer who posts absolutely adorable pictures of Sieun every other weekend–usually with captions like “moments before he snatched the phone from me” or “look who i lured out”, always making sure to discreetly tag @ytn.ahnsuho.
(Suho still remembers the day he found the gold mine overflowing with these candids.
It was midnight. His twenty-sixth birthday. And Suho couldn't sleep–not unusual–but tonight, his restlessness had a sharp edge. He had been rejected again. Politely, firmly. The way Sieun always did it. Cold front, words sharp like the winter wind.
It stung more than the previous ones. Maybe because it was today of all days. Maybe because he'd hoped this time would be different. Stupid.
Out of habit, he reached for his phone, typing a simple “Yeon Sieun YTN news” into the search bar. He didn't think much of it. It was supposed to be just another pointless scroll, something to dull the throbbing pain that settled in the pit of his stomach over the time.
Until he saw it.
A candid shot of Sieun smiling, just with his eyes, up at the sky. Soft, almost melodramatic. A smile Suho hadn't seen before.
It was an account he wasn't familiar with and so he clicked on it.
And there it was. Tons of pictures of Yeon Sieun in the park. Sitting on benches. Walking in front of the camera, head turned upward, eyes glowing whenever they made it into the shot.
It wasn't just him in the photos. Suho noticed he was always accompanied by a girl with a sharp raven bob. The girl, even just in photos, gave off the same vibe as Suho–loud, expansive, really touchy as well. Three for three. By the fifth photo of them linked by elbows–Suho wanted to turn it off. He really did.
Instead, he scrolled down until he was blessed with a much calmer photo–Sieun with a sleeping cat in his lap. He double-tapped and took a screenshot.
The next day, there was a message sitting in his inbox and a notification “youngyi started following you” on his timeline.)
“Like what?”
“Meteorology stuff.”
“But I’m like waaay more fun,” the taller man pouts, sticking his bottom lip out.
“Doubt it,” Sieun says, face stone cold. “Back to the studio.”
“Well, thanks, now I'll spend my time thinking about you the whole time I'm at home, all alone, by the way. Don't you think my longing and sadness will summon a sad, grey cloud?”
Sieun doesn't blink, doesn't flinch–just deadpans, “you’ll live.”
Suho clicks his tongue and stands up. “Anyway, you know the drill by now. Here I come.”
He brushes off the nonexistent dust from his blazer and shakes out his hands, cracking his knuckles like he's about to enter the ring–an MMA fighter in the body of a primetime news anchor. He pats over his heart almost theatrically.
“Yeon Sieun. Go on a date with me.” A dramatic beat passes. “I promise to treat you well.”
He hears the static on the other side, sees the live video of Sieun tilting his head back and looking into the sky for a moment, his habit as it seems.
“Suho-ssi,” he addresses him formally with a calm voice, “do you know what a low precipitation event means?”
“You tell me, handsome. Being smart is your jam.”
Sieun doesn't miss a beat. He delivers: “It means that while there is some moisture in the air–enough to register–it isn't enough to make an impact. That's what a low precipitation level is: you getting a yes from me.”
Ouch.
The silence stretches and stretches, the static hum between two live feeds blurring. Sieun stares into the camera, eyes void, a perfectly trained stoic expression on his face as if he hadn't just effortlessly pierced right through the big heart of Ahn Suho. The latter almost falls to his knees, eyes snapping wide open, bottom lip trembling slightly.
“Yah, Sieun-ah. How can you say that?” he asks, but doesn't wait. “So mean…and hot. Very hot. Concerningly so. But I know a thing about weather myself and let me tell you–”
He leans closer to the camera and smirks halfheartedly. “It changes daily.”
3)
To say they're trending would be an understatement. The hashtag #MoistureInTheAir becomes the number one topic across all social platforms in a couple of hours. There are small snippets of Suho's reaction when he received the meteorological punch in the gut, Sieun's empty face as he crossed the line and played into Suho's delusions, live reactions of people watching the footage.
Some clips have a melancholic background music, some are black and white. Very few are on the funnier side.
It's like a dam broke.
And it was entirely Sieun's fault. He sighs and closes his laptop, ready to enjoy his weekend without his annoyingly handsome, loud colleague.
youngyi: how do you think suho would react if he knew you're an absolute goner for him too?
sieun: am not.
youngyi: your situationship wants you backk
i swear if you don't snatch him right now, someone else will.
sieun: i’ll be happy for him, he doesn't mean harm
youngyi: coward
[attached pictures] look at thisss, guy's down real bad
It's a couple of screenshots of Suho's X account, starting from some older tweets, up to the most recent one, posted only a few hours ago.
@ytn.ahnsuho
first day at work, kinda nervous
[560 likes, 6 comments]
@ytn.ahnsuho
AM I IN HEAVEN? WHO IS THAT GUY
[1.6K likes, 55 comments]
@ytn.ahnsuho
might just propose again next week…he's so unbelievably pretty
[2,4K likes, 80 comments]
@ytn.ahnsuho
chat, i got told i’m like a hurricane today–way too predictable and come off strong. is that him asking for my number?
[20.3K likes, 1.1K comments]
@ytn.ahnsuho
maybe if i don't tease him today, he'll agree to meet me?
[7.8K likes, 583 comments]
@ytn.ahnsuho
“expect a storm” he said as if my heart wasn't hammering enough
[9.1K likes, 340 comments]
@ytn.ahnsuho
beige looks good on you
[34.1K likes, 5.3K comments]
@ytn.ahnsuho
went on a date today, my heart didn't flutter the same
edit: fyi no, it wasn't him
[56.7K likes, 7.8K comments]
@ytn.ahnsuho
sometimes i wonder if it's worth the chase, but then i see the look in his eyes as he tells me about the weather and i fall in love w him all over again.
[78K likes, 12.3K comments]
@ytn.ahnsuho
he smiled at me today
[234K likes, 17K comments]
@ytn.ahnsuho
i apologize for that nasty nosebleed, guys. but the way he said “a long wet night”–what was I supposed to do??
[568K likes, 36K comments]
@ytn.ahnsuho
ouch
#MoistureInTheAir
[765K likes, comments were turned off by creator]
~
When Sieun comes back to work on Monday, he promises to ignore each and every one of Suho's advances. He's going to brush him off politely, turn him down for the final time. He can't be the only one to feel bothered–this whole situation must be humiliating for Suho as well.
His earpiece beeps, a familiar signal he's live.
“Now let's look at the weather,” he hears Suho announce.
Sieun waits for the usual: a bad pick-up line (Sieun-ssi, you must be really tired from running through my mind all day), maybe a jab aimed at his pathetic appearance–he's drenched with sweat, hair pushed back, cheeks surely red from the excessive sun exposure.
But it never comes. Suho introduces him, asks him for weather and that's about it. No teasing, no flirting, nothing. It's almost professional. If Suho wasn't so obviously sulking.
The next few days become a blur of quiet and strained “let's check the weather"s and “back to you, Suho-ssi"s. They don't exchange a word outside of their pre-written lines.
By Thursday, Sieun caves. He pulls up last week's broadcast replay on his laptop one night, wine glass in one hand, the other still ink-stained from pre-writing tomorrow's report. He swiftly skips over to the moisture moment and watches the recording carefully.
There it is. A flicker of something right before Suho's face composed itself back together. A slight delay right where their handoffs usually went smoothly. Suho's eyes reflecting the light a bit too good for someone who allegedly wasn't holding back tears.
It's not just the drop in views that's concerning to the producers, it's the way Suho seems to lose his usual carelessness and spark, stumbling over his words more often than he used to. And while he continues to flash smiles, ad-libbing his way through showtime–there's no heart in it. Sure, he comes and delivers, but not nearly as flawlessly as before.
Sieun feels a pang in his heart. His fingers hover over the touchpad, trembling slightly.
Then, he checks the Monday footage. Suho's eyes, usually wide and lively, are bloodshot red. He laughs it off as an eye infection, skims right over it and into his next opening–
On Tuesday, Suho looked absolutely pitiful. His tweets seem to have stopped as well.
Sieun might just wish for a cyclone to take him–somewhere far away from Suho, Seoul, or preferably South Korea.
After reminding himself that: no, a tropical cyclone won't save you from your own mess, Sieun (suspiciously in his mother's voice)–he logs into his old, ancient even, X account. The moment his feed updates and refreshes, he's met with his inbox flooded with hundreds of messages and mentions. While most of them are random people (some with questionable usernames), he finds a few colleagues there as well.
Park Humin, a sports news anchor, shares a post with the caption:
my parents broke up, #HeartBroken #DivorceEra.
It's a screen record of the incident looped five times. Sieun's mean comment, Suho's reaction over and over again.
Even Juntae, Sieun’s shy cameraman, has a few threads addressing the delicate situation:
this *may* the closest thing we've gotten to a k-drama, guys. i'm invested!!
btw, shirts available. link in bio #MoistureInTheAir
Sighing, he clicks into the thread, comments rolling in one after another, stacking fast.
—me when my situationship stops flirting [543.2K likes]
liked by @ytn.ahnsuho
—he looks like a kicked puppy…is this even legal?? [301.2K likes]
—y'all are sick, ahn suho's basically trying to baby-trap him w those smiles [43.2K likes]
—guyss, shipping aside. what sieun said was MEAN, but imagine getting cornered by suho every day. [36.5K likes]
—switching channels, i can't keep getting edged by them [231.9K likes]
Sieun shuts the laptop with a thump.
He has a forecast-themed apology to think of.
4)
Sieun waits for his earpiece to signal the end. The Friday forecast segment goes smoothly as he recites his findings, his face neutral and voice steady, but his hands are definitely too sweaty.
“Make sure to look after your loved ones in these hot temperatures and don't forget to hydrate,” he finishes off his report. “Before I leave, I'd like to say a few words about the weather back in the studio.”
He lets the words hang for a moment, watching Juntae shoot him a thumbs-up with his free hand, camera propped on his shoulder, smiling slightly as his eyes peek from behind the lens.
“I apologize for my previous statement, it wasn't my intention to cause frostbite.” He clears his throat just once. “As I've been told…weather changes. Even the coldest fronts can shift. Even the strongest tsunami settles.”
He pulls his phone from the pocket of his pants. “So I hope to make up for it. I got your number from your staff.” He pastes in the message he’s rehearsed five times too many, thumb hovering above the buttons for a fleeting moment.
“Text me back,” he says, hitting send. “That is if you still want to know what my coffee order is.”
@ytn.ahnsuho
he's not a cold front. quite the opposite, he's like the sun: shining so brightly from distance, keeping on blinding me day after day.
edit: for everyone wondering–he likes cappuccinos.
[834K likes, comments were turned off by creator]
5)
[one year later]
@ytn.ahnsuho
looking for rings, is he more of a silver or gold type of guy?
[1.4M likes, 79.8K comments]
–reply: @gray: silver
–reply: @swarovski: we'd love to offer a sponsorship
The internet explodes.
Ahn Suho, for once not in his usual spot in front of the cameras, sits on one of the wooden benches in the park near the Han River, letting the wind run through his hair. It's a bit past midnight, but the heatwaves don't seem to get better. His palms are sweaty, eyes fluttering closed with every tiring breath. But maybe it's his insides that are too warm. Too excited.
He checks his messages, clicking on the number he now knows by heart.
Sieun.
i’m running late, sorry.
had to write a report for tomorrow
it's okay, babe :)
take your time, i’ll be here
He pockets his phone and looks at the river in front of him. The leaves rustle their way through the otherwise silent park, the sound of cicadas echoing around him.
He's not sure how long he sits like that, unmoving and quiet, staring into the dark before he hears it. The familiar clinking of metal against metal. Sieun’s Doppler Weather Radar 2000 Turbo, as Suho calls it–really, is an overpriced “weather notebook” in a safety box that Sieun would marry if he could.
His baby, he called it the other day when Suho accidentally knocked it over when he wanted to straddle Sieun's thighs during yet another heated make-out session.
Suho lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff before turning his head towards the source of the sound. “Look who the wind dragged in,” he says, trying to come off nonchalantly but failing–his voice jumps an octave higher. If he had a tail, he's sure it'd be wagging like a helicopter blade.
Sieun stops a few steps away, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair untidy, his black strands sticking in all directions. Cute. “Coffee?” he asks instead of saying hello, lifting the coffee tray with two cups.
After receiving an affirmative nod from his boyfriend, he sits down beside him, their shoulders brushing. Warmth blooms at the contact, familiar and welcome now.
“Is that supposed to be an apology for taking the wind out of my sails with that tweet? Really? Silver?” he whines, scoffing softly. “Do you know how long I've been courting you? I was supposed to break the news to them.”
Sieun just shrugs. “We can always break up and redo it.”
“And risk you rejecting me again? I don't think I could take it.” Sieun smiles softly at that, turning his gaze to the river.
A moment of comfortable silence passes between them.
Sieun’s pinky finger finds Suho's, intertwining them together. “Tomorrow is Friday,” he reminds him. “Just do what you usually do.” Then he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Suho's cheek, leaving them both pink and flustered even after months of dating.
~
Sieun's words left Suho jittery, the man spending hours tossing and turning in their shared bed, kicking the duvet off them multiple times.
“I’ll kick your pretty butt if you keep this up.”
“Sorry.”
The mattress dips as Sieun shifts, turning slightly toward him. “Are you nervous?”
“I’ll- uh, I’ll try to tone it down,” Suho blurts out quickly, not wanting to upset the tiny man any further.
Sieun's sigh breaks the tension around them. “Suho-yah,” he starts, propping himself up on his elbows, half-sprawled across Suho's right side. “It's going to be okay.”
“I know that. It's just– are you sure? I don't want you to feel like I forced you into this.”
“Am I someone who can be forced into doing something I don't want to?” Sieun asks gently before reaching out, fingers brushing Suho's sweaty bangs from his forehead. “So don't stress it. Just be yourself, I might surprise you.”
~
Ahn Suho waits for the feed to connect just as he had countless times before. But today, his stomach twists, the muscle clenching on itself, his insides fluttering with the anticipation of what's about to happen in his boyfriend's weather report.
This time it's not just Sieun's presence that has him on the edge of his seat, or another announcement of a possible earthquake in the area–no. It's so much more than that.
It's Sieun's trust in him. Sieun's love for him.
His coworker of almost three years, friend, boyfriend–his pillar, both in work and personal life.
The familiar countdown blinks on the screen.
5.
He adjusts his stance, wiping off his sweating palms on the soft fabric of his costume pants.
2.
1.
The feed clicks on.
And there he is.
Yeon Sieun stands beneath the soft glow of Seoul Tower, its lights casting a warm tint over him, complimenting the gentle angles of his face and completing that boyish charm he still somehow carries–despite being nearly twenty-eight. Stray streaks of light shine through the dark strands of his (for once) perfectly neat hair, making him look almost surreal. His expression is calm, composed, giving little away. At least to the untrained eye.
But Suho isn't untrained–quite the opposite.
He sees it in the barely-there twitch at the corner of Sieun's mouth. The slight lift that keeps threatening to break into something brighter. Sieun looks... happy. Excited, even.
“Good evening, Seoul,” Sieun begins, voice smooth, steady, pulling everyone in. “Tomorrow, we can expect a very diverse climate. We start off with a cold front moving in from the north, but get ready for high temperatures by the afternoon and–”
Suho barely hears it. His heart is beating somewhere in his throat. He’d spent the whole night staring at the ceiling, trying to decode the way Sieun had said "Just do what you usually do."
And now he knows. He knows Sieun. He knows himself. The script in front of him is nothing but a mere formality–it always has been.
As Sieun wraps up the forecast, Suho leans forward just slightly, hands folded neatly on the desk, camera on and running. “Yeon Sieun.” His voice is clear. Steady. Public, but more intimate than it's ever been on-air.
Sieun pauses, just a breath–but he doesn’t look surprised. His eyes seem to brighten up.
At that, Suho smiles softly, eyes crinkling at the edges. “You know the drill by now.” And Sieun nods, once.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” Not a dramatic pause. No hesitation. No rejection. Just an answer long overdue. “Yes, Ahn Suho. I will.”
Suho can’t help it–he grins wide and breathless, eyes stinging.
On-screen, Sieun is still looking at him, impossibly calm, that hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Then, returning to his usual tone, he adds, “And now, back to you in the studio.”
Suho lets out another disbelieving laugh, covering his face with both hands just as the feed cuts to commercial.
And just like that, the world knows.
They all know.
~
@gray: to the most persistent (and handsome) primetime newscaster who came into my life like a flood–rushing in, unstoppable–slowly breaking down every wall i built around myself;
i love you, ahn suho
[2.3M likes, 487K comments]
—reply: @ytn.ahnsuho: i love you too, yeon sieun