Choi Yeonjun didn't have the slightest clue what he was doing. He wasn't supposed to be here, shouldn't be here.

Well, technically, he wasn't there yet, but there wasn't much room for imagining, not when his fingers were tapping against the wheel, a lifestream of the cutest man alive on the planet on and playing at the other screen.

Red light. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck. How was he supposed to get there on time with this? He was running late, though he knew the show hadn't started yet, and they were simply doing sound checks. But anxiety settled over him like a tsunami, cold warring in his stomach, spurring him on. Adrenaline ran through his veins like tainted drugs, and it took all the self-control he had not to just slam the accelerator and go.

But an accident, a scandal, was the last thing he needed. It'd just add to Soobin's plate, and Yeonjun didn't want that. Mind half wandering, he wondered how the younger boy would react if he did get into an accident. But his face eluded his grasp, slipping from his memory at the thought, despite the fact that he'd memorised each and every line of Soobin's face by now, down to the very last detail.

Well, not exactly- it changed as the boy did, but there was one thing that was certain.

He'd never forget Choi Soobin.

His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his feet tapping anxiously against the accelerator. One, two. One, two. One, two. The taps fell into a staccato rhythm, both soothing and making Yeonjun more anxious.

Once he saw a green flash, he slammed down on the accelerator, and the rest was a blur. He ignored the blaring texts that flashed across his screen, undoubtedly from the manager- telling him to stay put, or Beomgyu, telling him to get there faster. But he'd taken the bulletproof car for a reason, and heck, there was no way in hell he'd turn back now, not when he was so close.

By the time he made it to the stadium, he'd already forgotten how he got there. Frantically, he grabbed his pass, sprinting to the entrance backstage. Half of his mind knew it was stupid, somewhat reckless of him to do that, with so many fans around, but the other half of him didn't quite care, he just needed to be there.

Because looking at Soobin, at whatever they were now, he wasn't sure if he could see anything clearly, or see anything clearer. I love you, Choi Soobin.

I'm sorry.

Please, wait for me.

He screwed up big time, that much he knew.

If the redness in the younger boy's eyes were any indication, he'd been crying again. This time, Yeonjun knew it hadn't been because of the comeback, or anything else. There was nothing else to blame, but himself.

There weren't any excuses for what he'd done, but he'd been fucking terrified. What if he messed up? What if people caught onto them faster than they were ready? What if he messed up somehow, what if he misread the whole thing? What if the younger boy didn't feel the same way? Half of him was terrified of hurting the younger boy somehow, of defining whatever was between them, as desperately as he craved it.

He'd wanted to be able to love the younger boy freely, the way he could behind doors when no one was watching. Without fear, but most of all, without restraint. He hated the spurned look in the younger boy's eyes when he thought he glanced away when it hurt so badly pretending not to look at him that he wished he could just grab him and run away. Sometimes he wondered how easy that'd be. To just grab the other boy, and walk away. To leave whatever it was behind, as long as he had him.

Part of him knew it wasn't healthy, part of him knew it wasn't fair. Not to either of them. Because as much as he loved Soobin, he also loved being an idol. There was never a situation in which he'd ever be able to choose between them, or one where he would ever be able to. Performing, be it dancing or singing was his life, his passion. But Soobin was his heart, in a sense. He couldn't operate without one or the other, and that was one of the parts he loved the best about the other boy.

He never pressed. He would never force Yeonjun to choose between him and his career, no matter what.

Was it selfish for Yeonjun to say he wished he could have both?

The security check must have passed in minutes, but it felt like hours to Yeonjun, even as he dashed down the halls. He'd lost count of the times he'd almost tripped and fallen over stray equipment, or almost ran into walls. He'd subconsciously memorised the map at some point. Half of his brain knew that the boy didn't technically invite him to this show, because he'd never asked. But when backstage passes and tickets showed up, slipped under his door...

Half of Yeonjun internally swore at his own stupidity, going back and forth between going and not going.

In some way, he knew it was Soobin's way of extending an olive branch, after a few...days? Or was it weeks? Yeonjun couldn't really keep count, somehow. He'd never quite been the one for dates. But it'd been sometimes since their...stalemate, and for him to hand him the tickets.

Without realising it, Yeonjun ended up exactly where he wanted, albeit breathless and slightly sweaty.

But instead of a head of fluffy blonde hair that greeted him, three pairs of eyes stared back at him, ranging from mildly confused to mildly disappointed.

"Where's he?" The words tumbled out of his mouth frantically, as he tried to scan the walls for any sign of him.

But all that came back up were useless racks of clothes, of anything and everything except the exact thing he was looking for.

"You just missed him, hyung," Beomgyu answered, something almost accusatory in his gaze, but there was an undercurrent of worry and hurt to them. "What happened?"

Yeonjun sank to his knees.

I missed him.

It wasn't until much later, that the words really, really began to sink in. 

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A/N: 1065 words! A short update, I know- I wasn't supposed to write or publish this yet, but I had to for a while so I could calm down...I'm so sorry if this is really messy, I hope you guys will enjoy it!
Thank you for reading!