12. Unspoken Confessions

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Jeonghan sat quietly at the dining table, his eyes tracing the delicate patterns of the cup in front of him. The room was filled with the familiar chatter of SEVENTEEN members, but he found himself unable to focus on anything but the silence that lingered between him and Seungcheol. It wasn’t that they weren’t talking—on the contrary, they had exchanged pleasantries all day. But it felt different, like the weight of unspoken words was beginning to pull them apart.

Seungcheol, seated across from him, was deep in conversation with Mingyu and Wonwoo. Jeonghan observed him carefully, noticing the way Seungcheol’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, how his laughter seemed a little too forced. He knew Seungcheol well enough to recognize when something was bothering him.

But then again, the same could be said about Jeonghan.

Lately, their usual banter and easy-going interactions had taken on a new layer—one filled with tension that neither of them had addressed. And the longer it went on, the more difficult it became to ignore. Jeonghan wanted to talk to him about it, to get everything off his chest, but he couldn’t quite find the right moment.

“Hyung, are you okay?” Joshua’s voice broke through his thoughts.

Jeonghan blinked and turned to his friend, offering a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

Joshua studied him for a moment, his perceptive eyes narrowing slightly. “If you say so.”

Before Jeonghan could respond, the conversation at the other end of the table grew louder, drawing their attention.

Mingyu was laughing as he ruffled Wonwoo’s hair playfully. “Come on, admit it, you lost fair and square.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes but smiled. “You got lucky this time. Next game, I’m winning for sure.”

Seungcheol’s hearty laugh filled the room, but Jeonghan couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off. His eyes met Seungcheol’s across the table, and for a brief second, time seemed to stop. The noise around them faded, leaving only the two of them in that moment. But just as quickly, Seungcheol looked away, resuming his conversation with Mingyu.

Jeonghan sighed softly. He knew what he had to do.

---

Later that evening, after everyone had dispersed to their rooms, Jeonghan made his way to Seungcheol’s room, his heart pounding in his chest. He hesitated for a moment before knocking gently on the door.

“Come in,” Seungcheol’s voice called from inside.

Jeonghan pushed the door open and stepped in, closing it quietly behind him. Seungcheol was sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling through his phone. When he looked up and saw Jeonghan, a hint of surprise flickered in his eyes.

“Hey,” Seungcheol greeted, setting his phone aside. “What’s up?”

Jeonghan leaned against the door, crossing his arms. “Can we talk?”

Seungcheol’s expression softened, and he nodded. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Jeonghan took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’ve been… thinking a lot lately. About us. About how things have changed between us.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrowed slightly, concern etched across his features. “Changed? How do you mean?”

Jeonghan bit his lip, unsure of how to articulate the complex emotions swirling inside him. “It’s just… we used to be so in sync, you know? Everything felt natural, easy. But lately, it feels like there’s this invisible wall between us, and I don’t know how to break through it.”

Seungcheol stood up from the bed, closing the distance between them. “Jeonghan, if something’s bothering you, you can always tell me. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Jeonghan whispered. “But it’s not just me, Seungcheol. I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me either.”

Seungcheol sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I’ve been holding back.”

Jeonghan’s heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to make things awkward between us,” Seungcheol admitted. “I didn’t want to risk ruining what we have.”

Jeonghan felt a lump form in his throat. “But by not saying anything, we’re only drifting further apart.”

Seungcheol looked down, his voice soft. “I know. I’m sorry.”

There was a long pause as both of them stood in the silence, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging heavy in the air.

Finally, Jeonghan took a step closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Seungcheol… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Seungcheol replied firmly, meeting his gaze. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Jeonghan nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. For the first time in weeks, the tension between them began to ease.

Seungcheol reached out, gently cupping Jeonghan’s cheek. “We’ve been through too much to let this come between us.”

Jeonghan leaned into his touch, closing his eyes briefly. “I just want things to go back to how they were.”

“They will,” Seungcheol promised. “As long as we keep talking to each other.”

Jeonghan smiled softly, feeling the warmth of Seungcheol’s hand against his skin. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

In that moment, the invisible wall between them began to crumble, and for the first time in what felt like forever, they were back in sync.

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