The Weight Of A Whisper

The silence in the practice room stretched, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the distant thump of the bass from another group's rehearsal down the hall.

Yoonhyeok stared at Seojun, his mind racing, trying to process the weight of that single, whispered word: “You.”

Was he hearing things?

Had the exhaustion finally caught up to him, conjuring fantasies in the dimly lit corner? Seojun’s gaze was still locked on his, filled with an intensity that made Yoonhyeok’s palms sweat.

There was a vulnerability there he’d never witnessed before, a stark contrast to the composed and charismatic performer the world saw.

Seojun, as if realizing the bomb he’d just dropped, suddenly shifted, his cheeks flushing a deeper crimson.

He looked away, his gaze fixed on the worn wooden floor. He nervously ran a hand through his dark hair, a gesture that betrayed his usual calm demeanor.

“I… I didn’t mean…” Seojun mumbled, his voice barely audible. “It just… the feeling of the song, I guess… it just slipped out.” He avoided Yoonhyeok’s eyes, his embarrassment almost palpable.

Yoonhyeok finally found his voice, though it came out a little breathier than he intended. “The song… it’s about me?”

Seojun nodded slowly, still looking down. “It… it started a while ago. Little things, I guess. Your laugh after we nail a difficult choreo, the way you always make sure the younger members eat enough, even just the way you focus during recordings…

they just… stuck with me.” He finally looked up, his eyes flicking to Yoonhyeok’s and then away again, as if afraid of what he might find there. “It’s probably stupid. You probably don’t feel anything like that.”

A whirlwind of emotions crashed through Yoonhyeok.

Surprise, definitely....

A strange, fluttering warmth in his chest.

something akin to… relief?

He’d always felt a certain pull towards Seojun, a quiet admiration for his talent and his gentle nature.

He’d noticed the way Seojun sometimes lingered near him, the fleeting touches during group photos that seemed to last a fraction too long.

But he’d always dismissed it as just camaraderie, the closeness of their shared life as idols.

“Stupid?” Yoonhyeok echoed softly.

taking a step closer.

Seojun flinched slightly, but didn’t move away. “Seojun-ah…”

Before Yoonhyeok could gather his thoughts, the practice room door swung open, and Minjun’s voice boomed, shattering the fragile intimacy of the moment.

“Alright, break time’s over! Let’s go, team! We need to perfect that formation before dinner.”

The other members started to filter back in, stretching and joking, oblivious to the charged atmosphere in the corner.

Seojun visibly tensed, his earlier vulnerability replaced by a familiar guardedness.

He stood up quickly, picking up his guitar and tucking it away with practiced ease.

“We should… we should probably just forget I said anything,” Seojun said quickly, his voice back to its usual quiet tone, though a hint of nervousness still lingered. He avoided Yoonhyeok’s gaze and headed towards the rest of the group.

Yoonhyeok watched him go, a knot forming in his stomach. Forget? How could he forget something like that? The raw honesty in Seojun’s voice, the vulnerability in his eyes… it was all swirling in his mind.

As they launched back into the choreography, Yoonhyeok found it difficult to focus. Every glance he stole at Seojun, every accidental brush of their arms during a synchronized move, sent a jolt through him. Seojun, for his part, kept his eyes strictly on the mirror, his expression carefully neutral.

The rest of the practice went by in a blur. Yoonhyeok’s mind was a chaotic mess of lyrics about starlight and the weight of a whispered confession. He kept replaying Seojun’s hesitant words, the way his cheeks had flushed, the fleeting intensity in his eyes.

Finally, Minjun called it a night, and the members began to gather their things, the earlier exhaustion returning with full force. As Yoonhyeok reached for his bag, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Seojun standing there, his eyes downcast.

“Yoonhyeok-ah,” Seojun began, his voice low, “about what I said earlier… I really didn’t mean to make things weird. It’s just… please don’t feel like you have to say anything or… reciprocate. I just needed to… get it out, I guess.”

He looked up briefly, a hint of sadness in his eyes. Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked towards the door with the others.

Yoonhyeok stood there, his bag heavy in his hand, the weight of Seojun’s words even heavier on his heart.

Things were definitely weird now. But not necessarily in a bad way. In a… complicated, potentially exciting, and definitely life-altering way.

As he walked back to the dorm with the rest of AURORA, the city lights blurring past the window of their van,

Yoonhyeok couldn't shake the image of Seojun's vulnerable gaze and the melody that had poured from his heart.

He had a feeling that quiet corner of the practice room had just become the most important place in their world.

And he knew, with a certainty that surprised even himself, that he couldn't just forget what had happened there.

Not at all.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***