Heated Confessions

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at [Link]

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: ZEROBASEONE | ZB1 (Korea Band)
Relationships: Sung Hanbin/Zhang Hao, Sung Hanbin & Zhang Hao
Characters: Sung Hanbin, Zhang Hao (ZEROBASEONE), Original Characters
Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, the title says it all, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional,
Possessive Sung Hanbin, Possessive Zhang Hao (ZEROBASEONE),
Zhang Hao is Bad at Feelings (ZEROBASEONE), Sung Hanbin is Bad
at Feelings, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, They argue, Feelings
Realization, Love Confessions, kinda toxic ngl, Not Beta Read, First
time writing something like this
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2025-02-09 Words: 6,246 Chapters: 1/1
 Heated Confessions
by moonlightandtulips

Summary

What was supposed to be a lazy and cozy Sunday between the two, quickly turned into a
space charged with raw emotions, unfiltered intentions, and heated confessions.

Notes

communication is the key in every relationships but not every conversation can be voiced
out. :)

Notes to note before you guys start to read:

- There might be grammatical errors which I missed, pardon me for that.

- English is not my first language, so I am not sure of the quality of this writing.
- Please do not associate the characters with real life people.
- Work is still under editing.
- I tried to keep it as realistic as possible.
- Humans are imperfect but that is what make them human, I suppose.

See the end of the work for more notes

Sunday mornings always felt softer than the rest of the week. The sunlight streamed through
the white curtains, spilling warm patterns onto the wooden floor. A light breeze made the
leaves outside rustle, carrying in the faint scent of flowers. Somewhere in the distance, birds
chirped, their songs blending with the chatter of kids riding their bikes. Their laughter, bright
and unbothered, mixed with the occasional ring of a bicycle bell, making the city feel a little
warmer as it slowly woke up.

Inside the small apartment, the warm scent of strawberries and butter filled the air, carried by
the heat of the stove. The soft sizzle of pancake batter meeting the pan echoed in the empty
space, accompanied by the clatter of utensils against ceramic plates. Zhang Hao stood by the
counter, dressed in a loose sweater and pajama pants, his hair slightly tousled from sleep.
With practiced ease, he flipped the pancakes, their golden-brown surface tinged with a faint
pink. A quiet hum left his lips, a tune absentmindedly picked up from the song he had been
listening to the night before.

Just as he reached for the jar of maple syrup, two arms wrapped around his waist, warm and
steady. The hold was firm but gentle, pulling him back against a familiar chest, the soft fabric
of a hoodie brushing against his pale skin. Sung Hanbin rested his head against the back of
Zhang Hao’s, letting out a quiet breath, like he was releasing tension he hadn’t even noticed
before. His grip tightened slightly, fingers pressing into the fabric of Zhang Hao’s sweater—
seeking something solid, something grounding.

Zhang Hao didn’t startle—he was used to this. Used to Hanbin’s sudden need for affection,
used to the way Hanbin sought warmth without words. Instead, he let the moment settle,
feeling the steady breathing of Hanbin against him.

“What happened, Bin-ah?” Zhang Hao finally asked, his voice gentle yet knowing.

It wasn’t unusual for Hanbin to cling to him like this, but there was usually a reason behind
it, even if it was small. Sometimes it was stress from his job at the café, sometimes it was his
way of silently asking for forgiveness—like a guilty puppy—after knocking over Hao’s vase
by accident. And sometimes, it was the weight of unspoken words, the kind he wasn’t ready
to say out loud.

If anyone walked in on them now, they probably wouldn’t call it just friendly. The way
Hanbin clung to Zhang Hao, the way he sought comfort in his touch—it was more than just
being friendly. But then again, no one really knows what happens behind closed doors, do
they?

To the rest of the world, they were just "best friends"—a label Hanbin himself liked to
emphasize whenever anyone asked. They had met in their freshman year of university,
thrown together as roommates by chance. Somehow, that chance had turned into something
unshakable. Through late-night study sessions, shared meals, and quiet moments when words
weren’t needed, their bond had only grown stronger. No matter the ups and downs, they
always found their way back to each other.

However, in quiet moments like these, where Hanbin held onto Hao just a little too tightly
and Hao let him, neither of them dared to question the lines which were getting blurred. Not
out loud, at least.

“I had a dream last night,” Hanbin murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. “And you were
in it, precioso .”

The pet name slipped from his lips so naturally, like it was something as simple as breathing.
As he spoke, he nuzzled into the curve of Hao’s neck, taking in his scent—a soft yet distinct
mix of coconut, ylang-ylang, and sandalwood. It was a scent that just felt like Hao hyung—
warm, refined, and lingering, the kind that reminded him of a hug after a long, tiring day. If
he had to put it into words, maybe he’d say Hao smelled like sunshine touched with a hint of
spice—effortlessly elegant yet comforting, like a sunset sinking into the ocean in shades of
gold and crimson.

Zhang Hao, who had been focused on plating the pancakes, switched off the stove with a
quiet click. He turned within the embrace, the warmth of Hanbin’s arms still snug around his
waist. Their bodies were practically glued to each other, so close that Hao could feel this hot
breath fanning against him.

“Oh?” Hao’s voice was laced with curiosity as he curled an eyebrow and gazed at his baobei.
He could see the slight crease between his brows and the way his lashes fluttered against his
cheeks. “What was the dream about?”

Hanbin shook his head, his expression unreadable before he ducked down again, tucking
himself against Hao’s neck as though willing himself to disappear. “It’s probably stupid…”
he grumbled, his breath hot against the sensitive skin just below Hao’s jaw. “You’re going to
laugh at me.”

The words were muffled, but the hesitation in them was crystal clear.

Hao let out a soft sigh, somewhere between amusement and concern, before reaching up to
cup Hanbin’s face. His fingers gently tilted Hanbin’s chin up until their eyes met—dark
brown meeting warm, unreadable profound black.

“Nothing you say or do will be stupid in my eyes, Bin-ah.” Hao gently assured with his
unwavering voice, which was only reserved for his Hanbin. He punctuated his words with a
small squeeze to Hanbin’s cheeks, watching as a reluctant pout formed.

Hanbin huffed, clearly debating with himself before nodding slightly. “Okay… but after we
eat.”

Zhang Hao gave a simple nod in response, though his gaze lingered on Hanbin for a moment
longer before he turned back to the counter.

The breakfast passed in comfortable silence, save for the occasional clink of the cutleries.
The food was warm which served as a contrast to how quiet the atmosphere was. Hanbin was
usually talkative but today he was lost in the maze of his thoughts, idly pushing pieces of
pancakes around his plate. Zhang Hao stole glances at him in between bites, concern creeping
into his expression.

‘Whatever happened in that dream…’ he thought, watching Hanbin absently chew on his
lower lip. ‘It must have impacted him a lot.’

After breakfast, the apartment settled into a quiet stillness, heavier than usual. Hanbin wanted
to lounge around on Hao’s bed, and really, who was Hao to say no?
In Hao’s bedroom, the two of them lay in silence, wrapped in a cocoon of soft blankets and
unspoken thoughts. Hanbin sprawled on top of Zhang Hao, his head resting against the
older’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was comforting—though, in a
way, everything about Zhang Hao was comforting to Hanbin.

Hao, the ever patient one, gently combed his fingers through Hanbin’s dark hair, brushing
away the loose strands that had fallen onto his forehead. His other hand traced absentminded
circles at the nape of Hanbin’s neck, a soothing gesture he had learned calmed him down.

He didn’t push. Didn’t demand words Hanbin wasn’t ready to say. Because he knew the latter
would say it when he felt like saying it.

An hour passed like that—quiet, heavy with anticipation. Hanbin hadn’t spoken a word about
what had been bothering him.

With a resigned sigh, Hanbin finally shifted himself to sit straight. The warmth of Hao’s body
left his skin, and he almost regretted moving. Without a word, he pulled the other into a
sitting position as well, grasping both of Hao’s hands in his own. His grip was firm, fingers
curled slightly as if trying to prepare himself.

Taking a deep breath, Hanbin finally spoke.

“So, what happened was…”

The bell above the café door chimed aggressively as a girl stormed inside, her heels clicking
against the tiled floor with purpose. The café was filled with its usual morning hum—soft
chatter, the whirring of coffee machines, aroma of coffee beans, milk, chocolate, and vanilla
—but all of that was quickly overshadowed by her piercing voice.

“Hey, you!”
Hanbin, who had just finished wiping down the espresso machine, barely had time to register
what was happening before the girl grabbed him by the collar.

“The hell—?!” His voice was laced with shock as he stumbled forward, caught completely off
guard.

The customers turned to watch, murmurs rippling through the space. Clearly aware of the
attention she was drawing, the girl huffed and dragged him outside, practically shoving him
against the brick wall of the café’s exterior.

“Tell your boyfriend to stay away from mine!”

Hanbin blinked. Once. Twice. “What the hell?”

“You heard me! Your boyfriend—Hanuel, or whatever his name is. Tell him to stay away from
my boyfriend!” She crossed her arms, her glare sharp enough to cut glass.

Hanbin stared at her as if she had just told him she was an alien from another planet.

“First of all, miss—whatever your name is—I’m not sure what made you think I have a
boyfriend.” He let out a sharp laugh, exasperated. “I am the most single person on this
planet. And I don’t know who the hell Hanuel is.”

The girl looked at him like he had grown two heads. “At least make your lie sound
convincing, dude.” She scoffed, arms tightening across her chest. “This is your last warning
—tell your bf to leave my bf alone!”

Hanbin felt his patience snapping, his frustration bubbling over. “I don’t even know who the
fuck this Hanuel person is! Just leave me alone!”
But the girl wasn’t done. With a sharp huff, she turned on her heel and tossed one final
statement over her shoulder.

“My boyfriend leaves me to text them every single day. They even call this Hanuel guy
‘Prezioso’.” She shot Hanbin a pointed look. “If you don’t believe me, go and ask your
Hanuel.”

And just like that, she walked away, leaving Hanbin standing there, fists clenched, heart
pounding.

He felt like his brain had short-circuited.

‘What. The. Actual. Heck.’

There was only one person in this world whom he called Prezioso.

And that person was undoubtedly Zhang Hao.

A storm brewed inside him as he stormed into the café, ripping off his apron with a muttered
curse. “I’m taking the day off.” He barely waited for his manager’s response before heading
straight for their apartment.

The moment he stepped inside, he slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing through
the space. Zhang Hao, curled up on the couch in a cozy blanket with a bag of chips in hand,
startled so hard he nearly dropped the bag.

Hanbin didn’t give him time to react. He marched straight toward him, his entire body
radiating heat.

Taking a deep breath, he tried—tried—to keep his voice steady.

“Does someone else also call you Prezioso, apart from me?”

Hao blinked up at him, completely unfazed.

“How did you know?”

The world seemed to tilt.

Hanbin’s hands clenched into fists. “So, you mean to tell me,” he began, voice dangerously
low, “that a name which is sacred between us—just us—you’re allowing someone else to call
you that?!”

His frustration was spilling over, but before he could say another word—

Birds chirped.

Sunlight peeked through the curtains.

Hanbin jolted awake.

Hanbin exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling as if he had actually lived through every
moment of that dream. His fingers were still tightly wrapped around Zhang Hao’s, his
knuckles slightly pale from the pressure.

“So, yeah…” he finally said, voice hoarse. “That’s what happened.”

His breath was uneven, his emotions still tangled in the remnants of the dream. He felt
ridiculous.

On the other hand, Zhang Hao sat there, utterly baffled yet undeniably amused by the entire
‘dream’ situation. A soft snort of laughter slipped past his lips before he could stop it. There
was something so endearing about the way Hanbin was all but combusting with emotion over
a dream. With an affectionate huff, he lunged forward, cupping Hanbin’s face in his hands
and squishing his cheeks between his palms.

“Hanbinnie, you are so adorable,” he cooed, eyes twinkling with fondness.

Hanbin immediately puffed out his cheeks in defiance, his brows furrowing deeply as he
swatted Hao’s hands away.

“You don’t get it!” he huffed, voice laced with frustration. “I’m still mad at you. Angry.
Fuming . I’m so jealous I could turn green from it!”

Zhang Hao chuckled, utterly unbothered by the outburst. He leaned in again, fingers
twitching with the urge to pinch those pouty cheeks once more. “Okay, lovely. I’m sorry~ ”
he singsonged, voice dripping with amusement.

Hanbin groaned, exasperated beyond belief. “Ugh! You just don’t understand, do you?” His
hands flailed in the air, emphasizing his point. His voice, usually warm and playful, now
carried an edge of genuine frustration. “Dream or not, I still can’t believe you did that to me!”

His expression was a mix of betrayal and disbelief, his dark eyes glistening with emotions too
overwhelming to contain. He wasn’t just upset —he looked like he was on the verge of
exploding.

Some might call him dramatic for getting this worked up over a dream.

But to Hanbin?
It wasn’t just a dream. It was a nightmare. A nightmare so vivid it left an imprint in his chest,
twisting his heart until it physically ached.

“I am so disappointed!” His voice cracked with emotion. “And so, so hurt. Do you know how
close I was to kicking you out? In the dream, I almost threw you out —out of this apartment,
out of my life , out of everything. ” His breath hitched, his hands tightening into fists. His
throat burned from holding back the emotions swelling inside him. “I don’t even remember
whatever else that girl said to me because the only thing that mattered was you . I love you so
much, and you did this to me?”

By the time those last words left his lips, Hanbin was trembling with frustration. His
emotions, so raw and unchecked, had reached their boiling point.

Zhang Hao softened instantly. “Bin-ah, it was just a drea—”

“I DON’T CARE!” Hanbin practically screeched, his voice cracking under the weight of his
emotions. “It felt real, okay?! It felt so real.”

His breath hitched and before he could stop himself, his hands flew up to his face, shielding
his expression from Hao’s view. The first tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another,
then another. His shoulders shook as soft sobs wracked through his frame, his hiccups the
only sound filling the heavy silence between them.

Zhang Hao watched, his heart squeezing painfully at the sight of his bel— best friend —
breaking apart over something he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He gently pat the
other's shoulder until he could calm down.

For the first time that morning, amusement faded from his eyes.

Hanbin wasn’t just upset.

Hanbin was hurting.

For a while, the room remained thick with silence, broken only by Hanbin’s muffled hiccups
and the occasional sniffle and pats from Hao.

Then, Hao finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Hanbin.” He hesitated for a beat,
searching for the right words. “This isn’t just about the dream, is it?”

Hanbin’s breath hitched once again. His shoulders stiffened.

As if Hao had struck a hidden chord, Hanbin lifted his tear-streaked face to meet his gaze.
His eyes, usually so bright, were now glassy with raw emotion. The tears didn’t stop, flowing
like a broken faucet, continuous and heavy.

“Do you have any idea how it feels,” Hanbin whispered, his voice hoarse from crying, “to
hear from somebody else that you’re with someone else? Spending time with someone else?
While I’m here, waiting— day and night —just to get a moment with you?”

Zhang Hao blinked, stunned for a second.

Then, realization hit him like a freight train.

Hanbin wasn’t just talking about the dream. He was talking about them . About real life .

The past few weeks had been hellishly busy—Hao had been drowning in work, engrossed in
meetings and deadlines, barely getting a moment to himself. There was an important project
coming up, and their boss had personally entrusted him with making sure everything went
smoothly.

He had been so caught up in the pressure… he hadn’t realized what it was doing to Hanbin.
Hanbin let out a shaky breath, pressing his palms together as if grounding himself. His voice
was shaky, but the words were endless.

“I know life’s been hard on you,” he continued. “And I gave you space. I know I can get
annoying sometimes, but you are going to deal with it, whether you like it or not.” A dry
chuckle left his lips. “You’re stuck with me, precioso. And there’s nothing you can do about
it.”

His fists clenched slightly before loosening again, as if he were grappling with everything
inside him at once.

The past few weeks had been a slow burn of loneliness and frustration. Hao was always busy.
Always working . Whenever Hanbin tried to make plans, the answer was always the same:
I’m busy, Bin-ah.

But what really hurt him?

The silence.

The way Hao had stopped responding to his I love you’s .

Before, it was effortless—Hao would always respond, always say it back with a smile, a soft
gaze, a playful flick to Hanbin’s forehead. But recently? The responses had dwindled into
nothing but quiet hums, an occasional distracted nod, like an afterthought.

Like it didn’t matter .

Hanbin swallowed hard. “I don’t care if you have thousands of friends. In fact, I’d be happy
if you did.” His voice trembled with suppressed emotion. “But letting them call you the name
I gave you—the name that’s ours —like it’s nothing? Like it’s not something sacred between
us?”

He shook his head, frustration flaring in his eyes. “That’s something I can never allow, not
even in my wildest dreams. Hell, I don’t care if they give you nicknames but I cannot let
anyone use the name that only I can use on you!”

A deep breath. He unclenched his fists, eyes drifting toward the ceiling as if searching for an
answer in the stillness of the room.

“I don’t say I love you for the sake of it, you know?” His voice was raw and unbridled with
emotions. “I say it because I mean it. Because I love you . I say it over and over, like a
mantra, hoping— praying —that it’ll get tattooed in your brain somehow.”

He let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking his head again.

“I hate this dream,” he admitted, “because it feels like it could actually come true.”

His eyes fluttered shut for a second, as if trying to shut out the terrifying thought.

“I’m so used to having you around, to getting your attention, to being loved by you.” His
voice cracked at the last part. “So even the mere idea of someone else barging in, saying, ‘I
love Hao more’ or claiming that you’re theirs ?” His breath shuddered. “It makes my blood
boil .”

His fingers now clenched into the fabric of his own shirt, gripping it as if trying to hold
himself together.

“But more than anything…” His voice broke, barely above a whisper now. “It scares me …”

His lower lip trembled as his gaze, filled with unshed tears, locked onto Hao’s.
“Because I don’t want to live a life where I don’t have you by my side.”

Immediately after that outburst, Hanbin pushed himself off the bed, his movements abrupt,
almost frantic. His chest still heaved slightly from the weight of his emotions, but his resolve
burned stronger. He strode toward the door, his footsteps heavy with unspoken words.

Hao sat frozen in place, his expression unreadable, as if his brain was still trying to process
everything Hanbin had just unloaded onto him.

The room felt colder without Hanbin’s warmth.

But before Hao could even begin to decipher his own feelings, Hanbin’s voice cut through
the quiet, sharp and unwavering.

“Since I’m already spilling out everything, I might as well say what I never got to say.”

Then, in a flash, he was gone.

The sound of a door swinging open, hurried footsteps down the hall—Hao could hear
everything.

Hanbin was in his room, rummaging through drawers, shuffling through stacks of papers, his
breathing uneven as he threw aside documents in search of something. The occasional thud
of things hitting the floor punctuated the silence.

His fingers trembled slightly as he sifted through the mess, his frustration mounting—until,
finally, his eyes landed on it.

A small, well-worn diary .

He exhaled shakily, wiping away the remnants of his tears with the back of his hand. His
chest was still tight, but he didn’t let himself hesitate.

Gripping the diary, he turned on his heel and marched straight toward Hao’s room.

Meanwhile, Hao sat motionless, still reeling from everything.

He had known Hanbin was upset. Had seen the way the light in his eyes had dimmed, had felt
the weight of Hanbin’s unspoken words lingering in the spaces between them.

But he hadn’t realized just how much it had been hurting him.

And now, he felt like an idiot.

Yes, he had his reasons for creating a bit of distance between them. He had tried to convince
himself it was for the best. Because how could he ever say those reasons out loud when— to
Hanbin —he was just a best friend ?

The thought made his stomach twist.

But before he could spiral deeper, the door flew open.

A breathless Hanbin stood there, gripping something in his hands. His face was flushed, his
hair slightly disheveled, as if he had sprinted across the apartment without stopping to
breathe.

Without a word, he climbed onto the bed and all but threw the diary onto Hao’s lap.
Hao stared at it for a moment before slowly picking it up. It was small, its edges slightly
worn from years of use. With careful fingers, he flipped open the cover, his eyes scanning the
pages.

And now it was Hao's breath that hitched.

Every single page —every single word—was directed to only one person.

To my dear Hao.

Hanbin exhaled deeply, his fingers curling into the bed sheets as he spoke. His voice was raw,
unfiltered, the weight of years pressing down on each syllable.

“You’re an idiot,” he said, his lips twisting into a half-hearted scoff. “You’re the only person
in my life who has an entire journal dedicated to them. And a playlist too—it’s twelve hours
long, did you know that?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze flickering to the diary still clutched in Hao’s
hands.

“I’m not sure if you remember, but I told you I’d share a playlist with you when we were…”
he paused for a second before resuming

…together.”

Hao’s breath caught.

The words slammed into him like a tidal wave, pulling him under.
Memories—ones he had buried deep, ones he had refused to let resurface—crashed over him
without mercy.

He felt it.

That sharp pang in his chest.

That ache of something sweet yet devastating.

His mind dragged him back, all the way to their freshman year.

To the moment he first met Sung Hanbin—his roommate, his sun, his inevitable downfall.

He had fallen. So easily . So deeply .

He had loved Hanbin before he even realized what love truly meant.

But Hanbin hadn’t loved him back—not the way Hao had wanted.

Hanbin had loved someone else, someone who wasn’t him . And when that person left
Hanbin shattered, broken beyond belief, Hao had been the one to pick up the pieces.

He had offered comfort, peace, a quiet place to heal.

And for a while, Hanbin thought he loved him too.

Hao had been so happy .

Until the moment Hanbin realized the truth—that what he felt for Hao wasn’t romantic, but
purely platonic .

It had crushed him.

But what could he do?

He had smiled. Swallowed his pain. Accepted his fate.

And tried to move on.

But now, here they were.

And Hanbin— his Hanbin —was looking at him like he was unraveling at the seams.

“I’m a fool too,” Hanbin continued, his voice softer now, laced with something unbreached.
“Because by the time I realized, it was already too late. Of course, you won’t understand half
the things I’ve written because of the language barrier.” A breathy chuckle left his lips,
humorless and self-deprecating. “And no, I won’t translate them. But to summarize?”

He took a shuddering breath rubbing away the snot from his nose.

“It’s all about us. About meeting you, becoming friends, about realizing things too late, about
pushing you away, about wanting you to leave me alone, and finally getting a taste of my
well-deserved karma.”

Hao could only stare, frozen in place, as Hanbin continued.

“After everything that happened between us—after I broke your heart, after I ruined us—you
still stayed. You never asked for anything, never once demanded anything from me.” Hanbin
laughed, but it was hollow, his lips trembling. “After our mutual decision, I learned to be
patient. To respect your wishes. To watch you from a distance. To make you jealous. And to
feel jealous in secret .”

His eyes burned, and when he blinked, tears slipped free, trailing down his cheeks.

“You only realize what’s important to you once it’s taken away from you, right?” His voice
cracked at the end, and the sound shattered something in Hao’s chest.

“Honestly, I came to terms with it two years ago— that I can never have you,” he admitted.
“Now, I just look at you and admire everything you’ve accomplished. I look at you and still
see hearts surrounding you.”

His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white, nails digging into his palms.

“But I hate this.”

Hao stiffened.

Hanbin lifted his head, meeting his gaze, his entire body trembling.

“I hate that I lost my chance to redeem myself. I hate that I know you don’t feel the same for
me anymore. I hate myself for being so fuckin' stupid back then. And I hate that I’m being
selfish right now, but I can’t keep it in anymore.”

A sharp inhale and suddenly he wasn’t just crying—he was sobbing .

“Hao-ya…” he gasped, each word laced with desperation. “I love you.”

The room stood still.

“I love you,” Hanbin whispered again, voice thick, barely above a breath. “Not just as best
friends or comrades. But more than that. So much more.”

He hiccuped, his entire body shaking.

“I’m sorry.” A broken laugh. “I know I can’t do anything about it—I just needed to—”

“Shut up.”

Hanbin blinked.

His breath stalled as he processed the two sharp words that had just been thrown at him.

“What—”

“I said,” Hao’s voice boomed , low and furious, “shut the fuck up.”

Hanbin barely had time to react before Hao’s voice cut through the thick silence like a blade.

“You know what?” Hao let out a breathless laugh, one that held no humor. His eyes gleamed
with something unreadable—anger, frustration, years of pent-up emotions clawing their way
out. “You are the blindest person alive on this planet.”

Hanbin’s breath hitched.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Hao continued, voice trembling. “You’re still as dense as
ever, baobei .”

Hanbin stiffened at the nickname.

“Hyung…” he uttered, suddenly hesitant, suddenly scared . Had he made a mistake by

spilling his heart out like that?

But then Hao inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again
—red-rimmed, glossy, but steady.

“You’ve said what you wanted, right?” His voice was softer now, but it carried the weight of
a thousand unsaid things. “Now, let me speak as well. Please. ”

Hanbin could only nod.

Hao’s lips curled into a rueful smile.

“Years have passed, and you are still the same.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Actually,
maybe that’s a good thing. You are still the kindest, most innocent, bubbly, witty, cute, and
adorably clingy Hanbin who brings sunshine into my dark life.”

Hanbin’s chest ached.

But Hao’s next words made it worse.

“You always ask me if your antics annoy me, if your presence is too much.” A sharp exhale.
“No, Hanbin. Not at all. I really am cramped with work. I really am sorry if I made you feel
neglected in any way. And I’ll endure whatever punishment you want to give me for that.”
He looked away for a moment, as if gathering his courage.

“But there’s more to it than just being busy.”

Hanbin’s brows furrowed. “Hao—”

“Do you remember when I said I would make myself forget every romantic feeling I had for
you when we broke up?”

A lump formed in Hanbin’s throat.

“It was a lie.”

Hao’s fingers tightened around the diary in his lap, gripping it as if it was the only thing
keeping him together.

“I still love you.” His voice cracked, and his eyes fluttered shut as he let the tears spill freely.
“Platonically, yes. Romantically? Even more so.”

Hanbin sat frozen as if he was struck with a lightning.

Hao let out a broken laugh.

“When you talked about your new crushes after we broke up, did you even realize how much
jealousy I had to swallow? How much I had to hold back ?”

Hanbin stayed silent, frozen.

“I should be given a damn award for the level of patience I had to reach just being around
you.” Hao snorted before sighing deeply. “But that’s not the point.”

His hands trembled as he lifted the diary again, flipping through its pages as if looking for an
answer that didn’t exist.

“The point is—I never stopped loving you.”

A sharp inhale.

“I tried to erase you from my heart after what I went through. I tried so damn hard.” His
voice wavered. “But no matter what I did, I couldn’t .”

Hanbin felt his own eyes sting again.

Hao let out a shaky breath.

“The love I hold for you?” He let out a humorless chuckle. “It started as a small sapling. And
now, it’s a full-grown tree, blossoming into something beautiful.”

Hanbin’s lips parted, ready to say something—anything—but then Hao’s expression twisted,
something dark flashing across his face.

“But the roots underneath?” His voice dropped. “They’re ugly . They’re vicious . And they’re
strangling me.”

Hanbin’s breath caught.

“In the beginning, after we decided to let go of everything, it was fine. I thought I could
handle it. I thought I could be content just staying by your side.” Hao laughed bitterly. “But
the more I listened to your I love you’s , the more ashamed I felt. The more I hated myself for
harboring these ugly feelings.”

He clenched his fists around the yellowish pages, voice trembling.

“The need to possess you. The need to keep you away from everyone else . It just kept
growing stronger and stronger .”

Hanbin’s stomach twisted.

“So I did what any sane person in my situation would do.” Hao let out a breath. “I pushed
you away. Or at least, I tried to create some distance between us.”

Hanbin’s eyes widened.

Of all the responses he had expected, this was not one of them.

But maybe—just maybe —Hao was right.

Maybe Hanbin really had been blind.

Back then. And even now.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to softly interject, “Hao… you could have at
least talked to me about it…”

Hao’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing fury.

“And tell you exactly what , Hanbin?!”

Hanbin flinched.

“Tell you that— Hey Hanbin, I’m still in love with you even after all these years and that I
couldn't erase you from my heart —when all you do is tell the whole damn world that we’re
just best friends ?”

Hao’s breathing grew ragged, his chest rising and falling with each heavy exhale.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?! Tell me!”

And just like that—

The dam to his locked emotions shattered .

And everything— every single thing —came flooding out.

Hanbin didn’t hesitate. He just pulled Hao into his arms, holding him as if letting go wasn’t
an option. His hands moved in slow, soothing strokes along Hao’s back, fingers tracing gentle
patterns, to ground him.

Hao, however, struggled in his grasp. His breath was ragged, his hands gripping Hanbin’s
shoulders in a weak attempt to push him away.

“You don’t know how hard it was for me to act like it was nothing,” Hao’s voice cracked, raw
and heavy with emotion. “When everything inside me was screaming to pull you close.”
Hanbin swallowed the lump in his throat, but Hao wasn’t done.

“You don’t understand, Hanbin! You don’t understand at all !”

His voice wavered, his frustration bleeding through. He tried to wiggle out of Hanbin’s hold,
but the younger only tightened his grip, refusing to let him go.

“I’m sorry,” Hanbin choked out. His own tears spilled freely now, his body trembling with
the weight of guilt. “I’m sorry for not noticing. I’m sorry for being so blind . I’m sorry for not
realizing what I had until I lost it .”

Hao stiffened.

And just like that, the last of his resistance crumbled.

The two of them sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, holding on for dear life. Silent sobs
wracked their bodies, their tears soaking into fabric, their hearts spilling into the spaces
between them.

After what felt like an eternity, Hanbin pulled back just enough to see Hao’s face. His eyes
were red and swollen, his cheeks blotchy and damp, his nose slightly runny.

And yet—

He was still so beautiful .

Hanbin’s lips curled into the softest of smiles.

“So…” His voice was barely above a whisper, laced with something fragile, something
hopeful. “You still love me...”

It wasn’t a question.

It was a statement—one that begged for reassurance.

“Yes,” Hao breathed out, voice trembling. Then, almost immediately—

“And you don’t .”

Hanbin blinked.

A second passed. Then another.

And suddenly, he let out a small, incredulous laugh.

“ Pabo-ya ,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I just gave you a long-ass speech about
my feelings. I literally confessed , and you still think I don’t love you?”

A teasing smile danced on his lips, dimples forming in his cheeks—the same dimples that
made Hao’s heart ache with longing.

But Hao didn’t smile back.

His lips wobbled. His throat bobbed. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
“Last time you said that,” he whispered, “and then you left me .”

Hanbin froze.

“How am I supposed to believe you won’t do the same thing again?” Hao’s voice cracked,
and his fists clenched in Hanbin’s hoodie. “What if this is just… a fleeting moment for you?
What if—” His breath hitched. “My heart can only take so much, Hanbin-ah.”

His vision blurred as he bit down on his quivering lip.

“If it happens again, I won’t be able to take the blow.” His voice wavered, barely above a
whisper now. “I’ll lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Hanbin’s chest ached.

God, it ached like someone had stabbed him with a dagger, so painfully slow and deep,
twisting with each second.

Because he understood .

Hao had endured so much. Hao had suffered in silence. Hao had given everything for him.

And Hanbin—selfish, foolish, blind Hanbin—had never seen it until now.

But this Hanbin—this Hanbin who had learned, who had felt , who had lost —

This Hanbin knew .

And he would never take Hao’s love for granted again.

He inhaled sharply, his grip on Hao tightening ever so slightly.

“You don’t have to give me an answer.” Hanbin’s voice was steady, but there was a tremor in
his grip, his hands still cradling Hao’s face like he was something precious . Like he was
everything .

“But can you please let me show you how much you mean to me?”

Hao’s breath hitched.

“Can you not push me away this time?” Hanbin’s thumbs traced soothing circles along his
cheeks, eyes pleading, open, earnest . “Can you let me make up for everything? Let me
grovel for all the times I was blind and stupid?”

Hao inhaled sharply.

God, he wanted to say no. He wanted to shove Hanbin away, to scoff, to tell him that Hanbin
might be saying all of this in the heat of the moment , that the latter’s feelings might be
fleeting unjust like this moment they shared.

But deep down—buried beneath the doubt, the fear, the ache—

A small part of him wanted this .

A small part of him wanted Hanbin to grovel .

To chase. To work for his love.

To earn it .

A small, triumphant part of him wanted Hanbin to kiss the ground he walked on, to worship
him like he was royalty, to pour every ounce of his existence into proving that this time , it
was real.

However before he could even voice it out, his body moved on its own.

And he nodded .

Hanbin’s eyes widened for a split second before they crinkled into the purest, most joyous
smile.

And then—

He peppered kisses all over Hao’s face.

Hao let out a strangled noise of protest, weakly attempting to shove him away, but Hanbin
only laughed , his lips brushing against his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose.

And Hao—

For the first time in months—

Hao smiled .

A smile that reached his eyes.

A smile that felt real.
End Notes

I cried while writing this. It has an ambiguous ending, I know. But I am thinking of making
an epilogue or continuation of this. Let me know if you guys would like any. I never thought
of posting this because I wrote this while I was depressed and heartbroken lmao.

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