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Hongjoong honestly didn’t know what have gotten into him this summer to teach kids.

Maybe Hongjoong was lonely, maybe his adventure spirit had woken up in the most inappropriate time when he should have been resting from never ending cycle of part-time jobs and catching up with his studies, or maybe his weak spot for Choi Jongho was way too big.

“Come on, hyung,” he practically whined, making those adorably irresistible puppy eyes. “I have been working there every summer since I have turned seventeen, it will be fun!”

Hongjoong honestly didn’t know how fun can be connected with working in summer, especially with kids, but Jongho was way too convincing and the prospects of this summer were exceptionally boring.

Arriving at the place of their stay – all valleys, and mountains, and small cozy houses, Hongjoong really thought he doesn’t regret it. Thinking of all the inspiration he could get from all those views alone didn’t make him regret it. Meeting Chan, who turned out to be a music major as well made him think it was, indeed, a good decision to spend summer in here.

Until he sees Park Seonghwa and his little gay world collapses.

“Hyung, come here,” Jongho waves with his hand signalling for Hongjoong to come closer. They are still at unpacking stage – bags, suitcases, and cardboards with props thrown around everywhere, as the kids are only coming in two days. “Hongjoong, this is Seonghwa,” Jongho smiles, almost mischievously, but Hongjoong is way too engulfed in the big, sparkly eyes looking at him.

If perfection was a person it would definitely have a name Park Seonghwa. He is tall, almost having to look down at him when he speaks. His hair is dark, but shines so brightly under the heat of June sun that Hongjoong has to squint. His smile is warm, and welcoming, and if we’re being honest, Hongjoong doesn’t expect that kindness from that pretty face. Seonghwa’s lips part, but the only thing Hongjoong hears is a melody, and he thinks he can make the most beautifully composed song out of—

“Hongjoong?” Someone grips him on the shoulder. Hongjoong blinks through several times, feeling as his foggy mind finally gets clearer and the senses are coming back. “You okay?” Jongho’s grip gets fiercer, as he arches an eyebrow at him.

“Huh?” Hongjoong huffs, feeling as his cheeks get redder. Killer first impression, Kim Hongjoong. “I—sorry, you asked something?” He mumbles, trying to keep his voice even.

Key word: tries.

But Seonghwa smiles. Smiles as if Hongjoong hangs all the stars in the skies at night – with same sparkly eyes and warm expression. “I asked what are you teaching,” he says, and if Hongjoong thought that Seonghwa’s voice sounds like a melody when his mind was all foggy and clogged, now, when everything is distinct and clear, Seonghwa’s voice feels like the best sound in the world – low, but not too much. Quiet, but enough for it to make a lasting impression. Soft, but—

“Music,” Hongjoong answers before his mind drifts away again, forcing lips in a pursed smile. “I will be teaching music.”

“Oh.” Those sparkly eyes open up in surprise just when Hongjoong have thought they can’t get any bigger. “That’s so cool, I love music!” Seonghwa exclaims and fucking claps, and the pure sincerity in his voice tells Hongjoong that his words and excitement come directly from the heart.

“Maybe I will drop by your lessons as well,” Seonghwa says, and the only thing keeping Hongjoong sane is Jongho’s tight grip on his shoulder.

And something tells Kim Hongjoong that he is solely and undeniably screwed.

*

First counselor meeting passes with Hongjoong's attempts of not having his eyes glued to Seonghwa.

Rather hopeless attempts, so to say.

The boy is dressed in same black t-shirt and jeans that he was wearing yesterday, while smiling and nodding enthusiastically at everything Minho says. The latter is supposedly teaching dancing, at least that what people were saying, and he looks as crisp and impeccable as Seonghwa – all of the grace and elegance in the world concentrated in his moves.

Definitely a dancer.

Hongjoong thinks they kind of match each other, almost as if met by fate, so unknowingly he lets out a desperate sigh, while drawing fanciful patterns on the wooden table with his fingers. Somewhere near him Jongho blatantly rolls his eyes, and Hongjoong thinks that his attempts of being subtle were, for sure, pointless.

“Just talk to him,” Jongho whispers, leaning down to his ear.

“Who is him?” Hongjoong whispers back, voice calm and full of innocence.

“Maybe I’m younger, hyung, but not a fool,” Jongho snorts, crossing arms on his chest. “And his stolen glances are as obvious as yours.”

Stolen glances?

Hongjoong looks up, fingers still tracing the table surface. And almost immediately Seonghwa catches his eyes, softly smiling back at him. Hongjoong almost whines from how effortlessly beautiful he is, even with messy hair and in plain clothes. He tries his best to smile back, but, in the end, it comes off as a pursed smile, Hongjoong putting in all the efforts not to squeal like a baby.

“Nice to see that no one’s late.” The magic is ruined by a head counselor – Yuri – walking in with a wide smile on her face. Hongjoong immediately straitens up in his place, hoping that he has managed to make a reliable first impression.

And not an impression of a whipped person.

Yuri starts talking – voice still rather enthusiastic as she draws some schemes and schedules on the impromptu whiteboard that is made of A3 paper. Hongjoong tries to take notes of everything – schedules of all the cabin groups, age of every cabin group, timetables of breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“Not everyone will have their own cabin group, but each one of you has a responsibility zone,” Yuri says, now much stricter. “Responsibility zone means that everything that happens there is solely under your control, including the kids, even if they are not from your cabin group.”

To no one’s surprise Hongjoong’s responsibility zone ends up being a small studio at the attic, where singing lessons will be held. And Hongjoong is happy because it’s a great opportunity to arrange the space in a way that he wants.

He doesn’t have a cabin group assigned, since Hongjoong is not that experienced yet, but Jongho and ends up getting group number two with Yuri, which consist mostly of teens. Minho and Chan get the smallest kids – group one to which they are assigned together, Siyeon gets group number three, along with Minji, and Seonghwa is assigned to group number four.

Alone.

“Sorry,” Yuri sighs. “We’re uneven number, so you have to handle it alone,” she purses hers lips almost guiltily. “I know you can do it, though!” Yuri throws up her fist in the air and Seonghwa smiles at that, nodding.

Yet the smile is less sincere than the one that is always directed at Hongjoong.

After discussing a few more details – mostly room arrangements and organizing moments – everyone’s dismissed, and the room is filled with claps and cheers. Some people go outside, probably for a smoke, from what Hongjoong knows. Chan pulls out his laptop – god knows where from, to be honest – and Jongho starts stretching his arms in his place, yawning loudly.

Hongjoong gets up, going to the kitchens that is located near by the dining room they had a meeting in. He goes straight to the tea-kettle, and takes a package of instant coffee out of his pocket. It’s almost midnight, but old habits die hard.

“Care to spare some?” Hongjoong jumps in his place at the sound of a voice that is way too familiar. He knows Seonghwa for less than a day, but is sure that it would take him no time to recognize his voice everywhere.

Hongjoong turns around, gulping loudly. The place with a tea-kettle is separated by something that looks like a bar counter, and there are some bottles with different syrups and toppings, as if they are in a fancy coffee shop. Seonghwa places himself on the stool, leaning over the counter on his elbows. He smells like cigarettes and sandal wood, an odd combination, but Seonghwa makes it work.

“It’s disgusting, though,” Hongjoong huffs, but pulls out everything he has. “There is caramel, vanilla, and cherry, but it all tastes like cheap coffee.”

Seonghwa laughs, sound getting under Hongjoong’s skin. “Cheap coffee – best coffee,” he shrugs, pointing at the caramel flavored package.

Hongjoong nods, taking one more mug from the cupboard. “You look like a fancy bartender,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong is thankful it’s his back that is facing him, because his cheeks are probably as red as the instant coffee package.

“Yeah?” Hongjoong squeals, mentally slapping himself. “Glad I look fancy enough for such a fashionable place,” Hongjoong throws a look at the numerous dents in the wall and cracks in the ceiling.

“I like your style,” Seonghwa says, completely ignoring the jab. “Your nails are so cute!”

Hongjoong huffs, feeling as his pulse picks up. He got so used to his always colorful nails that he sometimes forgets that there is something extraordinary about them. “Yeah, I painted them myself,” he shyly admits, scratching the back of his head.

“Really?” Hongjoong can’t see, but Seonghwa’s voice expresses nothing but pure interest. “Could you paint mine some time?”

“You like it?”

The tea-kettle clicks with an audible sound, signaling that the water is boiled. Hongjoong places two mugs closer, poring everything in.

“Yes!” Seonghwa says, as Hongjoong places the mug in front of him. “I told you, I like your style.”

Seonghwa is wearing a hoodie over his shirt now, so his hands are kind of hiding in the sleeves, as if they are sweater paws. Hongjoong’s heart clenches at the sight, and he prays to all the music gods for a mercy this night.

Or, rather, this summer.

“You smoke?” Hongjoong blurts out, but immediately flinches at the question. “God, sorry, I just--,” he sucks in a breath. “You smelled like cigarettes and I can’t shut up.”

But Seonghwa just laughs, looking at the coffee in his hands. “It’s okay, Hongjoong,” he smiles, and Hongjoong almost dies because it’s the first time Seonghwa says his name. It rolls on his tongue almost naturally, as if Park Seonghwa was made for saying his name only. “I do, from time to time,” he continues with a shrug. “I don’t smoke throughout the year, but as soon as I come here all the stress and pressure takes over, so I can’t just deal with it healthily.”

“My only unhealthy habit is drinking way too much coffee.”

“That’s cool,” Seonghwa laughs. “You’re cool, Kim Hongjoong.”

Although Seonghwa looks tired, his eyes are still sparkling, as if they never stop. Hongjoong doesn’t like posh and flaunty metaphors, but the way Seonghwa looks at him can’t be described in any other way as drowning. As if Hongjoong still hangs all the stars.

And Hongjoong gets sucked in so easily, millions of galaxies bursting inside of his chest.

“I could paint your nails every time you’re stressed,” Hongjoong suddenly says, putting a small smile on his lips. “I mean, if you want a healthier stress reliever, of course.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa’s lips part and Hongjoong notes how he does it rather often when he’s surprised or confused. Cute. “If that’s not a bother?” He asks, squinting cheekily.

“It’s really not,” Hongjoong laughs. “I have a lot of colours, and even stickers so,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “You can drop by our room anytime.”

After a few seconds of processing, Hongjoong realizes how that could have sound. His eyes bug out as he is opening and closing his mouth like a fish deprived of water. Did it sound like I was flirting? Was it an invitation to my room? Was it too mu—

“Sure,” Seonghwa interrupts the train of thoughts that already does a roundabout in Hongjoong’s head, making everything spin.

And the taste of cheap coffee on his tongue suddenly feels not that awful.

*

Working with kids is …. interesting, so to say.

Most of the time it’s fun, Hongjoong likes the atmosphere of carelessness and pure happiness that kids radiate, likes the way they smile, and listen to him. Likes how they are so boastful with stuff they do in art classes, bringing them to Hongjoong to show off. It’s nice.

But sometimes it feels too much, especially when it comes to certain type of kids.

San and Wooyoung, for example.

The loudness that those two elude when they are together can only be compared to that one time when Hongjoong was responsible for organizing one of the school events, and even then, he was rather proud of the level of control he held, without being way too hysterical.

But with San and Wooyoung the only thing Hongjoong wants is to scream.

And it’s not like they are stupid, or untalented. Hongjoong would say that both of them have very good potential – not only in music, but with other subjects out there as well, from art to dancing. The problem lies not only in way they are too curious and nosy – not something that surprising considering they are eight years old, and the world still seems big and mysterious for them. It also lies in the fact how popular Wooyoung and San are among the kids, as if they are that special kind of mafia, holding all the power and authority in this cruel camp universe.

But if Hongjoong manages to stay collected, Seonghwa practically loses his mind, as Wooyoung and San are members of his cabin group.

“Why me,” he whines during one of their nights spent together. It becomes a usual occurrence after curfew – Jongho would excuse himself out of the room, and get lost in the showers, while Seonghwa would come over instead of going smoking, asking Hongjoong to paint his nails with a new shiny colour every day. “They could have been assigned to any cabin group but noooo,” he snorts, “those devil spawns had to be in the one assigned to me.”

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong tries to sound scolding, but it comes out as something more compassionate. They chose a nice peachy colour for his nails today that nicely accompanies Seonghwa’s bronze skin tone. “They are kids.”

“They are monsters,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “I feel like they get a special satisfaction from getting on my nerves.”

“See? That’s the problem!” Hongjoong says, taking Seonghwa’s hand closer to even out the polish. “You act like you’re their friend, and give them the reaction they want.”

“So, you imply they are different with you.”

“I imply, that you’re just way too kind with them.”

Hongjoong is still fixated on nail polish in his hands, but he knows that Seonghwa’s gaze is boring into him, it’s hard to miss that feeling as Hongjoong knows it way too well by now.

Fuck, he’s screwed.

Seonghwa’s hand is still placed in Hongjoong’s, all warm and soft, and the slight size difference makes his breath hitch.

“Kind, huh,” Seonghwa huffs, looking at their locked hands.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong rasps. It takes all the last bits of control to keep his own hands steady with the way his pulse quickens at the touch. “Kind. Soft. Way too considerate,” he continues, tracing his thumb over Seonghwa’s skin. Barely, though, with a feather touch. “You should show them that you’re the boss here!” Hongjoong suddenly changes the topic, making the atmosphere shift.

Sometimes it’s too much for his weak gay heart.

Seonghwa throws his head back in a hearty laughter. “Boss?” He asks, big sparkly eyes disappearing in a warm eye smile. “I don’t think Wooyoung and San can resign themselves to any type of authority.”

“Oh, so they are rebels.”

“Oppression party,” Seonghwa winks, and the room fills with laughter again. “Thank you,” he says softly, catching Hongjoong’s hand with his long fingers, nails glistering with peachy beige.

Hongjoong sucks in a breath – rather audibly, so to say, feeling as if his ears are on fire, probably having turned crimson by now. “For what?” He asks in a low whisper, feeling as the places where Seonghwa touches him start tingling under pressure.

They sit in silence for a few minutes – hands locked and breathes hitched, and there is some type of magic to the whole ambience, almost as if the stars in Seonghwa’s eyes start bursting, filling the room with grains of warmth.

Either that, or Hongjoong is way too in love.

“For being you, I guess,” Seonghwa replies, and, honestly, it’s everything that Hongjoong has ever needed.

*

“My plushie is bigger!”

“Well, my plushie is much prettier than yours!”

Hongjoong closes his eyes shut in a slight annoyance, preparing music sheets and tuning in the piano. Chan has dismissed Seonghwa’s group from their art class ten minutes earlier today – Hongjoong is already preparing a long hearty rant about that – so now the kids are running around the impromptu attic studio, loudly quarrelling about their hand-made plushies, the loudest being San and Wooyoung, of course, with interference of other campers.

“Your plushie doesn’t even have eyes!” San takes away Mingi’s plushie, and the latter looks like he is about to cry.

“It has eyes, they are just small!” Mingi pouts, leaning back to other kid – Yunho – for protection. Yunho just smiles at that, obviously not interested in bickering.

“Can you both just shut up, you’re loud,” Yeosang, sitting somewhere near Wooyoung, rolls his eyes, looking way too serious for an eight-year-old kid.

“Language,” Hongjoong finally snaps, hitting the keys to attract attention. It works, as the room finally gets silent, but San pouts, crossing his tiny arms on his chest.

“Joongieeee,” he whines, leaning closer. “Tell Mingi I have a prettier plushie!” San practically shoves the toy into Hongjoong’s face. It looks pretty, indeed, shaped in a form of a little lion, and Hongjoong can’t help but smile at that.

“First of all, I’m Hongjoong during the lessons, not Joongie, okay?” He ruffles San’s hair as the kid’s lips curl into the pout even more. “And I like everyone’s plushies, they all are pretty!”

“Liar!” Wooyoung screams and everyone around giggles.

Devil’s spawn, indeed.

Hongjoong lets out an exasperated sigh. “Jung Wooyoung,” he tries to put all the warning tones in his voice. “I don’t want to be a bad cop, but let’s not test my patience, shall we?”

Wooyoung opens and closes his mouth, as if he wants something to say, but immediately gets quieter, shrinking in his chair. Mingi laughs somewhere beside him, and Yeosang gives him a shove in the shoulder. “Sannie’s plushie is the prettiest anyways,” Wooyoung quietly mumbles, looking down to the ground.

Rest of the lesson goes pretty well – with San and Mingi managing to bicker, once again, but generally it’s rather calm. Hongjoong feels as the kids have this kind of respect for him, either from being scared, or out of fondness, but every Hongjoong’s comment and note is taken seriously. He also sees how the kids love to sing, and that’s something that is like a source of energy to him. Everything is smooth, calm, and crazy to the needed extent.

Unless Seonghwa casually cradles – literally – in the studio in the middle of the lesson.

Hongjoong feels as all the air is caught up in his lungs at the bright smile directed at him, as Seonghwa lazily leans back at the side of the door, crossing his arms on his chest.

What the fuck.

As if Wooyoung and San feel Seonghwa’s presence, they turn their heads in his direction, waving at the man enthusiastically. Seonghwa lightly scowls at them, gesturing with his hand to pay attention.

Cute, Hongjoong thinks, feeling a small smile forming on his lips.

“Don’t mind me,” Seonghwa mouths, and Hongjoong blatantly rolls his eyes, smirking to himself. As if that is easy, Park Seonghwa.

Every time Hongjoong talks, or sings, he feels someone’s curious eyes on him – and it’s not only from kids, obviously – Seonghwa’s eyes being rather hard to miss. It’s exciting and scary at the same time, and Hongjoong feels as if he is, himself, a little kid who fell in love for the first time.

So pathetic, Kim Hongjoong.

“That will be all for today, you may be free,” Hongjoong says in a cheerful voice, and the room is filled with yelps and howls, as kids rush out of the studio.

“Careful on the stairs!” Seonghwa exclaims at their backs, trying to steady the kids’ run. “Wait for me on the first floor, I will come down in few minutes.”

Hongjoong smiles, and watches as Seonghwa comes closer, so gracefully as if his feet are not even touching the ground. “They love you,” he says, plopping down near Hongjoong by the piano. The latter can’t help but smile at the way Seonghwa’s peachy shirt matches his nails today, everything about him screaming ‘soft’.

“I’m hard not to love,” Hongjoong says in a faux surprise, clutching onto his heart.

“Indeed.” There is no laughter or joking undertones in Seonghwa’s voice, as he looks at him.

Hongjoong wonders if that is even fair – to be that pretty for a human being. To have all the stars of the galaxy encompassed in tiny little orbs of a human eye, feeling tiny little shivers going up and down your body every time they look at you.

Not fair at all but who is Hongjoong to judge.

“Is it hard?” Seonghwa asks, tracing his fingers over the keys.

“To what?”

“To play. I always wanted to play, but my maximum is a few chords on the guitar.”

The images of Seonghwa playing the guitar fill every part of Hongjoong’s brain and he almost whines at the sight. The image is way too powerful. “That’s still cool, though,” Hongjoong says cheerfully, clearing his throat. “Do you sing?”

“A bit? Not as good as Jongho or Siyeon.”

“Doesn’t matter, to be honest,” Hongjoong shrugs, looking up to catch Seonghwa’s gaze. The latter looks up as well, eyes big and shiny, lips curled in a small smile.

“And what matters?” He asks softly, darting his tongue to wet the unusually chapped lips, and Hongjoong thinks he stares way too obviously.

“What’s here,” Hongjoong’s voice breaks slightly in the middle, as he raises his hand to Seonghwa’s chest, barely touching the area somewhere around the man’s heart. “Let’s try something.”

Hongjoong turns his gaze to the piano, playing a first chord. From the corner of his eye he sees As Seonghwa’s lips curl in a small smile, probably recognizing the song as the amount of time they listened to it together is rather striking. Hongjoong starts softly mumbling the lyrics under his breath, looking at Seonghwa encouragingly through the lashes.

Don't touch me

Boy I want you

Not allowed to

You have someone that loves you

If Seonghwa’s eyes are like galaxies, his voice is more like a feather touch of a wind on a fervor summer day, when every ray of sun feels too much, and you take in every gust of air you can, as if devouring it. Hongjoong feels like he stopped breathing and is suffocated by breath all at once, looking how Seonghwa’s gleaming lips form the words softly, letting out the most beautiful sounds. His cheeks are tinted with pink, and eyes are glued to the keys as Hongjoong backs him up in a lower voice.

I'm waiting

And I'm patient

I'm deluded

You have someone that loves you

Hongjoong’s fingers suddenly stop as he notices how Seonghwa is leaning into his touch, shoulders brushing gently. All the sounds disappear and the room submerges into dull quietness where only Hongjoong’s heartbeat is audible, pumping in unison with his pulse. And it almost feels like that kind of moment, and their faces are only centimetres away and Hongjoong has only to—

“Seonghwa, Mingi started eating crayons because he thought they were candies,” San stumbles in the room along with Wooyoung and Seonghwa and Hongjoong leap aside, all the tension breaking down in less than a second.

“Mingi did what?” Seonghwa jumps to his feet, longing on his face swiftly changing to a shocked and panicked expression. If Hongjoong’s heart didn’t beat as hard in his chest he would have probably laughed. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

“Yeosang tried, but Mingi won’t believe us,” San whines, swaying on his feet. “It was so funny, hyung,” he giggles, nudging Wooyoung, but the latter’s gaze is drifting from Hongjoong to Seonghwa, squinting into a rather knowing look, way too knowing for a kid.

Hongjoong doesn’t like that.

“Come on, I will help,” he gets up from his place, and all four of them head to the stairs. “Take Mingi to the infirmary, I will look after the kids.”

“You sure?” Seonghwa’s voice is tired, but the look in his eyes is rather grateful.

“Of course,” Hongjoong shrugs. “What are friends for, right?”

Seonghwa huffs under his breath, coming ahead. San and Wooyoung are already in the room, screaming something at Mingi and Yeosang, but the noise gets drowned somewhere in the space left between Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

And then Seonghwa looks over his shoulder, the usual bright sparkles in his eyes seeming much duller, for some reason.

Either from tiredness, or something else, much more complex and tricky.

“Right,” he replies, and the room gets swallowed in a loud noise again.

*

People who say that funniest parties are at the clubs probably haven’t been to a camp disco at least once. Hongjoong is pretty much positive about that.

He wasn’t even sure that he would attend those weekly events, but, when Chan approaches him the day before with a freshly made coffee – and only a healthy sleep is more precious than a brewed coffee in their surroundings, being the main currency – Hongjoong starts getting rather suspicious.

“Can you DJ for event on Sunday?” Chan says in one breath, smiling shyly at him.

“Well, not like I mind, but thanks for coffee?” Hongjoong gladly takes it in his hands, inhaling the precious scent. “Though, I would say your music taste is more fitting for a kids’ disco than mine.”

“Shut up,” Chan snorts, plopping down near him. “I’m just tired.”

“Have your own Woosan in your cabin group?”

“Luckily no, but Hyunjin and Jisung are close to that,” Chan takes a sip of his own coffee, and Hongjoong feels a rush of guilt as it is obviously cheap instant one that they have in storage. “I promised the kids to go the shop to buy some snacks – don’t tell Yuri,” Hongjoong places a hand over his heart, crossing the fingers in promise. “If I don’t Jisung would knock the living daylights out of me.”

“He is a kid, Chan,” Hongjoong rolls his eyes, nudging him in the shoulder.

“That’s a misleading statement,” Chan replies, looking at the set of notifications on his phone. Hongjoong nods, feeling the warmth spreading all over his chest. “How’s Seonghwa?” Chan suddenly breaks the silence and Hongjoong almost chokes on the drink, coughing loudly.

“Good,” He rasps in reply, shooting a quick smile in Chan’s direction. “Why are you asking?”

Chan stays silent for a few seconds, as if weighing something in his head. “He started smoking again, you know.” Not a question – definitely a statement, and Hongjoong grasps on the cup in his hands tightly, heat coming from it almost burning his hands now.

Something shifted after the studio incident, and not in the direction Hongjoong had expected. Seonghwa still gives him the warmest and brightest smiles, still looks at him with sparkles practically dripping from his eyes, but, at the same time Hongjoong feels tension, and not a good one. Seonghwa started avoiding any close contact and any possibility of them being left alone, out of everyone’s sight, and their usual night hangouts with nail polish and music are canceled by giving same excuses – too tired, not in the right mood, promised to help Minho with a choreography. And Hongjoong shouldn’t be disappointed, really. He shouldn’t be sad, feeling as a crippling feeling of loneliness eats him from the inside. He shouldn’t.

But he does anyway.

“And?” Hongjoong sucks in a breath, dizziness suddenly taking over.

Chan looks at him like he knows, with a same tired smile. “Ridiculous,” he mutters under his breath. “But you do you, I guess.”

“Hey, what does that mean?” Hongjoong asks but the question is left unanswered, as Chan leaves the dining room in one swift motion.

That’s how in the evening Hongjoong finds himself behind Chan’s laptop, playlist and equipment ready for a loud party. The smaller kids are already there – not really dancing but playing games with a ball, older ones are already dressed up – with make up and fancy hairstlyes, and even counsellors look especially pretty today, trading usual sweats and shorts for much nicer pieces of clothing.

His eyes catch Seonghwa’s kids, as Wooyoung, San, Yeosang, Mingi and Yunho are sitting in a tight circle, discussing something vividly, Wooyoung being almost louder than music. As much as they are rather hard to handle, Hongjoong can’t help but feel some type of special affection to them – maybe he recognized himself as a kid, or maybe he is intrigued by the adventurous spirits and innate curiosity, but the bond is special, and Hongjoong can’t deny that they are definitely his favourites, though he promised not to develop soft spot for anyone, treating every kid equally.

“Nice playlist,” Hongjoong is snapped back to reality by Siyeon’s voice, as she takes a sit beside him. She dressed up today as well, and her make up seems to be a bit brighter than the one she usually wears.

“Thank you,” Hongjoong replies with a smile. “I’m more of an indie guy, but tried my best to fit in the mood of mindless consumption.”

“You could have just used Chan’s playlist, you know that?”

“Nah, won’t do that.”

Siyeon laughs, covering her mouth with a hand. Hongjoong likes Siyeon, he truly does, as she is always very bold and clear about the things she feels, and always voices what is on her mind. Hongjoong’s Scorpio soul can relate to that greatly, but considering Siyeon is a Libra—

“Seonghwa is the life of the party, isn’t he?” She asks, gaze wandering somewhere ahead. Hongjoong follows her gaze, watching as Seonghwa places all of his kids in a circle, awkwardly moving to the music. He looks stunning, he always does, but today he is dressed in a nice mint coloured shirt, first two buttons hanging open, but not in a suggestive way, making him look even softer. He must have styled his hair today as well as it is brushed to the side, and his usual shorts are traded for black pants. “How is he?” Siyeon asks and Hongjoong groans, pretending that he is fiddling with something on Chan’s laptop to avoid Siyeon’s gaze.

“Why everyone is asking me this,” he mumbles, clicking mindlessly on a touchpad.

Siyeon blatantly rolls her eyes, shoving him in the shoulder. “Maybe because you both keep staring at each other like there is no tomorrow? Even kids noticed,” she snorts.

“I am not staring.”

“Yeah, sure, we all are just collectively hallucinating.”

Hongjoong clicks with his tongue and looks at the impromptu dance floor again. Laugh bubbles somewhere in his chest as he catches Wooyoung hanging down Seonghwa’s arm, playing some type of game he can’t yet figure out. San is tucking on his clothes from the other side, and Mingi is jumping around the place, clapping with his hands.

Hongjoong catches himself thinking that he would be glad to join the chaos.

“Go,” Siyeon nudges him.

“Where?”

“To him,” she groans. “I will keep an eye on everything’s here.”

“Chan asked me, and I’m responsible.”

“These demons would drag you on a dancefloor sooner or later anyway,” she says, grinning wide. “Speaking of the devil,” her eyes drift ahead again.

Hongjoong follows her gaze and sees Wooyoung and San running to him enthusiastically.

Oh no. No no no no.

“Hongjoongie!” San whines, instantly grabbing Hongjoong’s elbow. “Dance with us!”

“I can’t leave a place, Sannie,” he laughs, slightly resisting the touch. Wooyoung gets on his other side, grabbing his arm as well.

“You can, the music just plays in order, I know!!” He jerks up his head looking at Hongjoong sternly. “I’m smart!”

“Of course, you are,” Hongjoong says with sincerity.

“Come on then!” San tags on his elbow a bit harder, and Hongjoong gives is, laughing loudly and letting the kids to lead their way. He throws a last look at Siyeon, but she just waves him goodbye, occupying Hongjoong’s place behind the laptop.

A shameless frameup.

A nice bubblegum-pop song is playing through speakers, and Hongjoong gets pumped up solely from the energy that is accumulated on the dance floor – kids are screaming, dancing, playing, doing everything at once, and it practically swallows you, coating in rather energetic feelings. Minho is dancing with younger kids somewhere by the side as well, looking as happy and as cheerful as ever, and the whole ambience just screams ‘joy’. Hongjoong feels livid.

Then he sees Seonghwa up close and his world bursts into thousands small galaxies again.

“Hongjoong!” Mingi almost knocks him off with a tight hug. Seonghwa laughs at that, watching as kids surround Hongjoong in a tight circle of cheers and embraces.

“Hey there, little demons,” Hongjoong ruffles Yunho and Yeosang’s hair, taking everyone under his wing. Wooyoung and San are still hanging off his elbow, looking up at him with eyes full of hopefulness and mischief.

“I am not a demon,” Mingi pouts, leaping aside.

“Yes, you are a demon in disguise,” Seonghwa says with a warm smile, hugging the kid by the shoulders, bringing him closer to his side. His eyes meet Hongjoong’s the first time, and a tight lump forms in Hongjoong’s throat as he feels unable to form any word or sound. “Hi,” Seonghwa quietly says, corners of his eyes squinting in a smile as well.

“Hey,” Hongjoong replies meekly, feeling as his face and ears gets hotter. He sees as Seonghwa’s cheeks are tinted with light pink as well, and for a glimpse of a second it seems like all the awkward tension from past few weeks finally breaks, as if everything is in right places again.

Is it?

“In my defence, I have zero control over them,” Seonghwa says apologetically, trying to pull Wooyoung and San from Hongjoong.

“You’re literally a camp counsellor?”

“Shut up.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, but ignores the jab, loosely wiggling laughing Mingi in his arms. The kid radiates the warmth everywhere he goes, lighting up the place just with his smile.

“Let’s play again!” Wooyung says, trying to get louder than music. Yunho and San beside him nod enthusiastically, but Mingi shuffles closer to Hongjoong.

“I don’t want to play, you bully me!” The kid whines, furrowing his eyebrows in a cute matter.

“I don’t want to play, the game is stupid,” Yeosang mumbles under his breath.

“Yeosang, language,” Seonghwa grits through his teeth, giving a light cuff on his nape, but immediately soothing it with caressing moves, ruffling Yeosang’s hair there. “What do you want to play?” Seonghwa asks exhaling loudly, and the kids around start cheering again.

“The game we played before!” San shouts, his voice not as loud as Wooyoung’s so he practically has to scream in Seonghwa’s ear.

“Oh, the Dance game!” Yunho and Mingi yell in unison, jumping around.

“So, we’re moving again?” Yeosang asks, sighing loudly.

“We are at the disco, Sangie,” Wooyoung rolls his eyes, nudging Yeosang with a shoulder.

“Dance game then, let it be,” Seonghwa shrugs, still looking at Hongjoong. “You know the rules?” He asks, and Hongjoong shakes his head at the question. “Basically, every person in circle should come up with a move, but before doing your move you should repeat all the previous moves until someone messes up.”

“Easy!” San chimes in.

Not when a certain someone is looking at me like that, Hongjoong thinks but gives out a small smile.

“The loser receives a punishment,” Wooyoung says, and the look in his eyes glimpses with something coy as he smirks.

Hongjoong tenses up immediately, feeling that everything is, indeed, a shameless frameup, but Seonghwa remains rather unbothered, more occupied with keeping his kids calm.

“No one will receive a punishment, Wooyoungie,” Seonghwa says in a scolding manner and a smile falls from Wooyoung’s face.

“But what’s fun at that!” San pouts, making puppy eyes at Seonghwa with a pout – a low blow, because no one is sane enough to resist that.

“It’s okay, Hwa,” Hongjoong says and Seonghwa’s head jerks up at the nickname arching an eyebrow at him. “We are not cowards, aren’t we?”

The kids cheer enthusiastically at that, and Mingi engulfs Hongjoong in a hug again.

“Worse than a kid,” Seonghwa shakes his head but smiles, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

And Hongjoong is definitely not staring.

Observing. Spectating.

Seonghwa starts arranging them all in a circle, making sure that Wooyoung is not next to San, and San is not next to Mingi, and Mingi is not next to Yeosang who shouldn’t be next to Wooyoung. A complex mathematical equation, so to say. That’s how Hongjoong and Seonghwa end up facing each other, on the different sides of the circle, Hongjoong making his best to avoid the man’s gaze full of sparkles.

Hongjoong thinks he has a good memory, that’s why for a few first rounds he even feels slightly guilty for wining, watching as Mingi’s dare as a loser is to ask a cute girl from Seonghwa’s cabin group – Gahyeon – to dance. Mingi’s cheeks get as red as his t-shirt, but in the end Gahyeon just smiles cheerfully at them, joining their impromptu circle. Hongjoong remembers Gahyeon – she likes pink, and always bring unicorn stickers to every teacher before the lessons. Siyeon says she is her favourite.

But Hongjoong’s biggest mistake was in looking at Seonghwa when he has no idea he is being observed. He laughs, quite a lot, actually, and covers his cheeks and eyes with his hands every time the dance moves are funny or a bit awkward. Seonghwa smiles lovingly at his kids, smiles when Gahyeon asks him for a piggy ride, smiles when he finally manages to make usually quiet Yeosang burst into laughter with his dancing.

Hongjoong’s heart wrings with a pain in his chest, and then almost drops right to the stomach. And he knows that it’s what they call ‘catching feelings’.

As if there were any other outcomes to this.

“Joongie missed his turn!” A loud voice brings him back, as Hongjoong blinks through several times.

“Huh?”

“You missed your turn, hyung!” San says coyly, glints of mischievousness matching those that are seen in Wooyoung’s eyes. “That’s why you lost!”

“That’s not fair, wait!” Hongjoong whines, almost as if he is, indeed, a kid as well, looking at the kids with expression full of unfeigned betrayal. “I just spaced out!”

“No justification, hyung!” Wooyoung chimes in, smirking.

Hongjoong looks up at Seonghwa with a cry of help, but the latter just shrugs, as if saying ‘it was your idea’. Hongjoong just rolls his eyes at that, quickly sticking out his tongue at him. “Rules are rules,” Seonghwa says with a smirk, but quickly masks it with a warmer type of smile as kids are looking.

Huh.

“And what do I have to do? I can let you go from classes ten minutes earlier tomorrow, you know?”

“Nah, boring,” Yeosang snorts.

“Yeosang!” Seonghwa gives him a warning look again. “You will end up getting detention today.”

“Deserved,” Mingi mumbles.

“Back to business!!” San screeches in a serious tone. “After a long round of thinking our team decided that the punishment will be to give Seonghwa-hyung a kiss on the cheek.”

What.

Hongjoong takes a minute to process the information.

Even kids noticed.

“I will actually crucify you both if you won’t stop,” Seonghwa’s expression gets rather serious as he crosses his arms on his chest. “And you will be on kitchen duty for the whole week.”

“But it’s just a peck,” Wooyoung whines. “Not like it’s a big deal, you kiss us every day.”

“It’s—” Seonghwa sighs tiredly. “It’s different.”

“Different how, hyung?” Yunho asks, nudging him on the arm.

Hongjoong’s cheeks are crimson by then, and everything seem to happen through the dense layer of water, as if it’s a fever dream. Their eyes meet and Hongjoong wants to joke it off, or say something silly, or just do something at that point, but all the coherent sentences disappear from his mind.

At least Seonghwa stays collected.

“Out of my sight before all six of you got the detention,” he crouches down on their level to say that, the look in his eyes stern and serious. “Now go,” he tickles at San’s stomach, and the latter giggles loudly, grabbing Wooyoung and running somewhere ahead.

Seonghwa comes closer, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Sorry for that,” he says, scratching at the back of his head. “They get overwhelmed easily.”

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong smiles. “I had a lot of fun, actually.”

A wide grin blooms on Seonghwa’s face and his eyes soften all at once. “Thank you,” he says quietly, the words almost getting lost in the loud music playing around.

“For what?” Hongjoong fiddles with his fingers, knuckles making a stiff crackling sound, and a slight feeling of déjà vu catches him off guard.

“I told you before,” Seonghwa looks up, coming closer. “For being you.”

The music is here, but the only thing Hongjoong hears is his heart beating loudly in his ears, almost as if it is ready to break out of his chest. And the only thing that he sees is Seonghwa, it feels as if the whole universe is focused on him now, engulfing everything in a light and brightness.

That’s when Hongjoong gets braver, and when the music ends, he tip toes to place a quick peck on Seonghwa’s cheek. His lips burn after the feeling of the skin on them, tingling with a slight anticipation of more.

“You’re welcome,” he says, and with that the music fills his ears again.

*

Hongjoong loves his impromptu made studio.

The attic brings the room more of mysterious feeling, and the old piano makes you think you are the main character of a classic movie. Hongjoong also hung all the kids’ drawings that they brought from art classes on the wall, and some pictures along with handcrafted items are made by his own hands with Chan’s help, as the classes are held just on the floor beneath him. The studio feels like his own little corner of comfort, as Hongjoong has to share his room with Jongho and sometimes being alone with his thoughts, or organize stuff in the way that he wants is rather complicated. And the attic studio is like his fortress.

It’s rather early in the morning when Hongjoong starts preparing for classes, going over note sheets and revising the songs that they have to learn today. He mumbles the lyrics under his breath softly, almost inaudibly, and quickly realizes how much he missed actual singing – with his whole chest, and with the lyrics that are coming directly from the heart.

“Hey, you needed something?” Hongjoong is too engulfed in the music, so when he looks up and sees Seonghwa leaning on the piano he almost squeals, hitting a chaotic chord that scares the latter away, as he jumps. “You didn’t notice me,” Seonghwa says laughing, with a playful pout on his lips. His hair is still a bit messy as it is morning, curling into different sides on his forehead, but it only adds cuteness to the pink hoodie that he is wearing, hiding his hands in sweater paws.

 “Hello to you too,” Hongjoong huffs, rubbing his hands together. “Thank you for visiting at this early hour, but I didn’t need anything.”

Seonghwa furrows in confusion. “You didn’t?”

“No, I ate and went straight to the studio.”

“Weird,” Seonghwa leans back, putting hands on his hips. “I was in the dining room, and San came to me and said—”

As if in a snap, the realization hits them both as their eyes meet – Hongjoong confused ones and Seonghwa’s filled with a fear bordering with a pure anger. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, and just when he turns around and starts sprinting back to the door it closes shut, and the sound of the key turning in the lock strikes the room like a thunder, sending shivers down Hongjoong’s spine.

These little demons fucking locked them.

“I will fucking end them,” Seonghwa grunts, and it must be the first time Hongjoong sees him in a state close to anger, not made up or the one that can be joked off – a real anger. His cheeks are burning red and brows are knitted in a tight line, lips pursed.

“Hey,” Hongjoong carefully comes closer, step by step. “It’s okay.”

“It’s fucking not,” Seonghwa hides his face in his hands, and the sound becomes muffled.

Hongjoong hesitates for a second, before raising his hand and placing it over Seonghwa’s shoulder. The height difference finally strikes, as the man is towering over almost by a head, but right at that moment Seonghwa seems unbelievably smalls, as if trying to hide from the world. “Do you want to sit on the floor?”

“Huh?” Seonghwa shudders, turning around and looking at Hongjoong through the fingers – action so childlike that he can’t help but let all his worries away.

“Let’s sit on the floor, like kids usually do in here,” he says, gripping on his shoulder even tighter. “We are locked anyways,” Hongjoong shrugs.

“Your phones is…?”

“Still with Jongho. Yours?”

“Left in the dining room because I was rushing to you,” Seonghwa shakes his head.

After a minute of persuasion – not like Seonghwa is even trying to oppose – they plop down on the floor, blankets covering their legs and backs pressed against the wall. Seonghwa rests his chin on his knees, hugging them closer and titling his head to the side.

“How did they even get a key,” he asks in a low whisper, trying to catch Hongjoong’s gaze.

“It’s always at the same place, on the hanger on the first floor.”

“Smart bastards.”

Hongjoong huffs a laugh, still looking down at his hands. The whole accident is rather surreal, but somewhere at the back of his mind, where no one can ever find him, Hongjoong is happy that they are finally alone, as a lot of unresolved and unanswered questions are still hanging in the air. Seonghwa bumps his head on the wall, Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps loudly. A familiar smell of sandal wood and a slight trace of cigarettes practically hit Hongjoong in the guts, as he sucks in a breath.

“You started smoking again,” he states, a lump forming in his throat.

Let’s start from afar then, Park Seonghwa.

“I told you it’s a stress reliever. Either that or getting drunk like you and Jongho every night.”

“We are not getting drunk,” Hongjoong deadpans. Yes, as much as he enjoys working with kids it must be one of the toughest jobs in the world, and eventually, without soothing this out, your nerves just let you down. So, when Seonghwa stops coming in every night and Jongho suggest getting two cans of beer after the curfew and the meetings, Hongjoong gladly joins, partly drowning all his worries away in the alcohol, just like Seonghwa does with cigarettes. “Just drink a bit.”

“Sure.”

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong sucks in a breath, voice almost breaking down in the middle. “Why have you stopped coming in?”

The silence is almost killing. It fills every fibre of the room, every cell, every corner, every part of Hongjoong’s body, almost getting insufferable, at this point. Seonghwa’s chest rises up and down slowly, as if he is actually calm, but the fiddling of his fingers gives in his nervousness.

“Look, it’s okay, I understand,” Hongjoong breaks the tensed quietness when it all gets too much, way too impatient. “But if you don’t like me you could just—”

“Don’t like you,” Seonghwa lets out a bitter chuckle. “You think it’s because I don’t like you?”

“What the fuck I was supposed to be thinking, Seonghwa?” Hongjoong groans, anger starting to bubble in his chest. “You just started avoiding me, ignoring me and I--,” he sucks in a breath, biting down hard on his bottom lip. “I didn’t understand why, okay? And it fucking hurts because--,” Fuck, why is it so hard. “Because I do like you,” Hongjoong whispers, looking on his exposed knees and the only wish he has is to disappear.

From the corner of his eyes he sees as Seonghwa shuffles in his place. “Like a friend?”

Hongjoong laughs. Bitterly, almost rolling his eyes. “You are so fucking dense, Park Seonghwa.”

“I am dense?” Seonghwa huffs a laugh. “It’s--,” he groans, head hitting the wall again. “Unbelievable,” he mumbles.

“I don’t understand a thing,” Hongjoong observes his actions in confusion, feeling like his heart is somewhere at his feet now.

Instead of answering, Seonghwa stands up with a loud sigh, and for a second, Hongjoong thinks that he is running away again. But suddenly, he crouches in front of him leaning closer. Hongjoong’s knees are still pressed to his chest, so Seonghwa places his hands over, pressing them down. Hongjoong lets him, feeling as the pulse rings loudly through his ears. Just when his knees straighten, all at once it feels like Seonghwa is everywhere, as he jumps right into his lap, legs at the both sides of his hips.

“Hongjoong,” he mumbles softly, cupping his face with his hands. “I liked you since I saw your stupid ass coming out of the bus with your stupid yellow beret on your head and nails painted in same colour to match to it.”

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong rasps, something tight and heavy on his chest not letting him for coherent sentences.

“I thought that the sun came out,” he whispers, completely ignoring Hongjoong’s interruptions. He leans in again, bumping their foreheads together. Seonghwa’s breath is now on his lips, and for once Hongjoong can’t say that his eyes are sparkling – they are tinted with something darker, and heavier, yet still glister with a tentative shine. Like a galaxy.

And Hongjoong feels like he is the centrepiece of it, only thing that he is feeling being Seonghwa.

Only thing that matters being Seonghwa.

Hongjoong doesn’t think when he jerks his head up and let their lips brush. Not even a single trace of thought in his head, because finally, for the first time in a fucking week, Hongjoong just does as he feels, not really caring about the consequences that his brain tries to come up with. They part quickly, but then Seonghwa looks at him, and his eyes sparkle again, absorbing every grain of sanity that is left.

This time they pull in together, the press of the lips being firmer, stronger, causing Hongjoong to gasp into Seonghwa’s mouth. The latter’s hands tangle somewhere in Hongjoong’s hair, and Hongjoong’s hands slide down from his shoulder to Seonghwa’s hips, gripping tightly. Seonghwa tastes like mint gum and cigarettes, and Hongjoong wishes it is the last time he feels that taste on his tongue.

“You really should quit smoking,” he croaks as they pull away to take a breath.

Seonghwa laughs, placing a small peck to his jaw. “Or what?” He mumbles somewhere into his skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses along his jawline and down to his neck.

Hongjoong hits his head against the wall, giving Seonghwa more space to leave soft touches on his body. “Or I won’t kiss you again.” A lie, but Seonghwa doesn’t need to know that.

“Then I can kiss you, problem solved,” he looks up to wink, then leaning down to place kiss along his collarbones.

Hongjoong thinks the world is collapsing with the way his poor heart is breaking away from his ribcage, tearing it down in pieces. And as he lets out a soft moan under his breath there is a loud thump, and they both stop at once, staring at each other with confusion mixed with fear.

“You guys are here?”

Chan.

The classes, right. The classes must be starting.

Fuck.

“Yeah?” Seonghwa yells back but still doesn’t move, sitting onto Hongjoong’s lap with hands on the both sides of his shoulders, holding him tight.

Not like Hongjoong is complaining.

“Man, they really locked you,” Chan groans, and something falls to the ground again. Hongjoong flinches and laughs, with Seonghwa following along, pressing their foreheads together. “Hang in there, I will find the spare key.”

“It’s okay, no need to hurry,” Hongjoong yells and Seonghwa rolls his eyes, hitting him playfully on the arm. “What?” Hongjoong mouths, looking at him with a wide grin.

“Worse. Than. A kid.” He whispers, a slightly scolding tone of his voice framed with a warm smile.

“But you still love me,” Hongjoong shrugs and the mischievous glint in Seonghwa’s eyes tells him that it’s a ‘yes’.

*

“Look at them,” Wooyoung whispers, nudging San in the shoulder. It’s a naptime but it has never stopped any adventurous spirit of any kid in the world. They are currently hiding in the middle of the bushes – caps carefully hiding their faces as they peep out of them to look at the sight.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa are sitting on the steps – sides pressed together tightly as they watch something on Hongjoong’s laptop. From time to time he sings – and Seonghwa tries to follow along, laughing loudly while trying to cover his mouth.

“Do you think our plan worked?” San whispers, pushing Wooyoung slightly to see the picture with his own eyes. The boys in front of him do look happy, smiles on their faces as bright as the sun that is blinding San’s eyes. “Told you it will work,” he smirks.

“They are in love,” Wooyoung sighs. “I want to be in love too,” he mumbles but it’s barely audible, hopping that San doesn’t hear.

“You will, Wooyoungie!” San exclaims enthusiastically, grinning so wide that his dimples get same size as his cheeks. “I’m sure you will! You will because you are the coolest person!”

“Definitely cooler than you, Sannie,” Wooyoung pinches his cheeks, and San flinches with a pout.

“Shut up,” he huffs, but quickly gets engulfed in a hug.

Somewhere ahead Seonghwa squints in distrust, pointing out that the bushes are oddly movable. But Hongjoong just laughs, kissing the doubt away.

Wooyoung and San let out a relieved sigh.