Chapter Text
Where’s the line?
It’s lonely here, but I’m fine
Huening Kai’s acting weird.
He’s normally in high spirits during the insane amount of time it takes to prep him for the stage, so when Soobin slips into the Big Hit dressing room at the start of his shift and says “nice hair” at Kai’s wildly curled bangs, only to be met with troubled silence, Soobin immediately shifts to medium alert.
“What’s up?” he asks, casually.
“Nothing,” Kai just says, looking up at him through the mirror, a line dipping between his perfectly shaped eyebrows.
That’s the first sign.
The second sign is later, in the company van, as they make the journey to Inkigayo’s recording building. Kai normally spends the ride plugged into his headphones and snoozing, mouth parted hilariously, but today he’s kind of... twitching in his seat, like he’s seconds from combusting from what must either be some bizarre form of stage jitters or too much coffee. Kai doesn’t handle caffeine well. Soobin found that out the hard way, his first year working as Kai’s bodyguard. It had involved coffee and trampolines and Soobin nearly losing his mind attempting to bounce after Kai, who’d been unstoppable. Yeah. Definitely a memory for his highlight reel.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Soobin asks, after he spends a minute trying to ignore Kai’s incessant twitching. “Did you drink too much coffee again?”
Kai breathes out a short laugh. “No,” he says. “I’m fine.”
I’m fine?
Kai never says I’m fine.
That’s the third sign.
In the one year Soobin has worked as Kai’s personal bodyguard, he's made the observation that Kai’s usually either on the side of My life is a disaster!!! or on the other side of the spectrum of I’m so happy, hyung, I could scream. And then he actually does. Out the window. It’s half impressive and half extremely embarrassing, but then again Kai’s a world-famous solo singer-songwriter-dancer who can do whatever he wants, so. No one’s going to fault him for screaming happily out of a window — though there had been that one time with the cat, who’d been shocked so badly it almost fell off the side of the building.
Kai’s a lot more careful about checking for lifeforms near windows now.
“Ensuring the quality of your personal well-being is literally my job,” Soobin reminds him. “Tell me what’s bothering you. Please.”
Kai mumbles something, drowned out by the low rumble of wheels on asphalt.
“What?” Soobin says. Thunderclouds gather in the distance ahead. Ominous.
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing. You said something. I saw your mouth move.”
“You’re not even looking at me,” Kai says, a little fondly, which strikes Soobin as wildly offensive. He’s always looking at Kai. It’s his job. So what if he was checking the weather outside the window? He just needs to mentally prepare ahead of time whether he’ll have to grab the umbrella from the boot before escorting Kai out of the van later. Won’t be good to get rain on Kai’s hair and makeup. The stylists already tease him enough.
Soobin turns to look at Kai, who looks — good, as usual, but also not good. His face is as troubled as the skies ahead.
“You’ll tell me later?” Soobin tries.
“Later,” Kai promises, and then it starts pouring.
—
He’ll never admit it out loud, but Kai probably takes the cake for being the sweetest, nicest, most self-sacrificial idol Soobin has ever had the honour of guarding.
It’s not that Yeonjun wasn’t any of those things. But Yeonjun had always accepted Soobin’s assistance without question.
Kai on the other hand is always pushing the boundaries of what’s necessary and what’s not, which Soobin personally thinks is in actual fact completely unnecessary, but maybe a little endearing. Go home, hyung, Kai sometimes says, when shoots creep late into the early hours of the morning. I can take care of myself. No one in their right minds will be out at this hour, anyway.
It’s not the people in their right minds I’m protecting you against, Soobin usually says in response. He always stays.
So that night, when Kai asks him to escort him not just to the lift lobby of his apartment building but straight to his door, Soobin‘s more than happy to do so.
“Is later now?” Soobin finally asks, when they’ve traipsed into the lift. Kai’s still a little bit twitchy and oddly clingy to boot, pressing close to him and vibrating like there’s a current running through his veins. He normally gets like that immediately after performing, but for him to still be vibrating like this now is... weird.
Something’s definitely up.
“Patience, hyung,” Kai says evasively.
“You’re being very weird about this,” Soobin remarks. “Should I be concerned?”
“Maybe.”
“What’s wrong?” Soobin asks, immediately shifting into high alert and lowering his hand to his belt, where he keeps his taser.
“Not that, hyung,” Kai says, laughing, placing a hand on Soobin’s forearm.
The lift doors open.
“What is it?” Soobin asks, struggling to keep his patience in check as they walk down the corridor towards Kai’s apartment.
“Come in,” Kai says, scanning his fingerprint to unlock the door.
Soobin halts in his tracks.
“Hyung?” Kai prompts, when Soobin doesn’t follow him in.
Technically, nothing in his contract says he can’t follow clients into their houses, but still. There’s a line, right? Why would a bodyguard ever need to enter the home of his client, unless it’s to protect him from, like, burglars?
Maybe there are burglars, just waiting behind the door to jump him.
Soobin’s hand subconsciously moves to his taser again.
Kai laughs, noticing Soobin’s hand. “What are you, like, planning to tackle my house plants?”
Right. Well, Kai housing burglars in his apartment seemed rather unlikely, anyway.
Soobin lowers his guard and toes his shoes off, stepping cautiously into Kai’s living room.
The first thing he notices are the plushies.
It’s kind of impossible not to notice them, given that they’re literally everywhere. On the couch. The TV console. The kitchen counters. And, improbably, in one of the pots of said house plants. It’s a bright green parrot plushie, Soobin realises, with great disconcertment. No doubt to match the plant.
“I got this in the mail,” Kai says, shoving a piece of paper at Soobin.
It says, in what looks like Arial, font size 12: UR MINE
Soobin flips the paper. It’s blank on the other side.
“I mean, the least they could have done was use a nicer font and proper spelling,” Kai says, like he’s trying to make the situation lighter with humour.
Soobin frowns.
“Where’s the envelope it came in?” he asks.
“Here,” Kai says, picking it up from the table. It’s a nondescript envelope that Soobin recognises from basically every stationery shop in South Korea.
“Strange,” Soobin remarks.
“What?” Kai asks.
“Isn’t fan mail supposed to wax poetic about your beautiful eyes and, like, demand that you marry them immediately?”
“Uh,” Kai says, squinting.
“I’m kidding,” Soobin says. “Whoever sent this knows your address. That’s... problematic.”
Kai’s eyes go very, very large.
“I mean, it’s creepy, but it’s not that bad, right?” Kai says. “I was a little embarrassed to tell you about it earlier, which is why I thought showing you would be easier.”
Soobin slides the note back into the envelope. “I’ll keep this and report it to management,” he says. “Your address has been compromised. I’ll call for back-up.” He’ll probably call Taehyun, who’ll probably want to kill him. Oh well.
“Back up?”
“We’ll have to place a bodyguard at your door,” Soobin says. “Just extra precautions, until we figure out who’s behind this.”
“You’re scaring me,” Kai says, and the line between his brows is back.
Oh, god.
“I’m sorry,” Soobin says, crossing the distance between them in two strides and touching Kai gently by the elbow. “Don’t worry. You’re right — it’s probably nothing. Just some weirdo.”
But it’s too late.
Kai’s eyes go as large as plates. His fists clench. He looks, ridiculously, like he’s about to A) pass out, or B) punch something. Maybe both.
“Am I going to be murdered in my sleep?” he whispers, exaggeratedly.
“No, you’re not —“
“What about my plushies?” Kai continues, just as dramatically.
“I don’t think —“
“Do you think they‘re watching me literally? Like, with a telescope? That’s what stalkers do, right? Spy on you through your windows and shit?” Kai glances nervously at the window.
“Kai!” Soobin says, using the voice he normally uses for barking orders into his in-ear transmitter. He takes Kai by the shoulders. “You’ll be fine.”
“Oh,” Kai says, deflating. He lowers his eyes, then looks at Soobin through his eyelashes. This close, he smells like the stage, like summer sweat, like the stray remnants of this morning’s cologne. This close, Soobin could count his eyelashes, if he wanted to. “You’ll protect me, right?”
Soobin has no idea why that makes his palms start sweating, but he sure as hell isn’t about to let Kai find out. He takes his hands back and steps backwards.
“You know I will,” he tells Kai.
“Will you stay the night?” Kai asks. He stuffs his hands into his pockets.
“Uh,” Soobin says, his brain clearly sorely unequipped for such a request.
“Never mind!” Kai squeaks, pushing Soobin back by the shoulders. “Ignore that!”
“Wait,” Soobin says, as Kai continues to push him backwards and, presumably, out the front door. “I can do that, if that makes you feel better?”
“No no no it’s okay,” Kai says. “No. It’s okay!” It almost sounds like a mantra. “I’m okay!”
Soobin puts his feet down and starts resisting. Kai struggles against him, planting his hands on his chest. “Really,” Soobin says. “It’s my job.”
“I don’t — I don’t even pay you OT,” Kai says, voice small. He’s looking at their feet.
“This isn’t some office 9-to-5,” Soobin says, amused. “Why would you pay me OT?”
“You barely get any time off,” Kai says.
“I get Sundays off,” Soobin reminds Kai. “You don’t even get the weekends to yourself, you’re so busy.”
“That’s different,” Kai says, looking up, fire in his eyes. “I want you to have a life.”
“Bold of you to assume I don’t already have one,” Soobin says, raising an eyebrow.
Kai shoots him a dark look. “You don’t.”
“Hey!”
“I know walking Sean in the park might seem good enough, but that’s not a life,” Kai informs Soobin haughtily.
“Rude,” Soobin says. “Bodyguarding is a very stressful job. Walking Sean helps me unwind!”
“Well, Sean’s waiting,” Kai says, trying to push against Soobin’s chest again. “Ugh, why are you so — solid?”
“Let me call Beomgyu, and then I’ll stay the night, okay?” Soobin says, trying not to let the amusement creep into his voice.
“Hyung,” Kai whines.
“I’ll need a change of clothes and a bed,” Soobin says, using his authoritative voice again.
“Okay,” Kai says meekly, and goes.
—
In the one year he’s serviced Kai, the last thing he expects to be distracted by is Kai’s toes.
Kai is widely adored around the world for his very many exceptional attributes — his angelic voice, his meaningful, sometimes heart-wrenching lyrics, his dancing. His beautiful eyes, the curve of his lips, the breadth of his shoulders. The Kai of yesteryears, according to the family photos framed up on the TV console that Soobin might or might not have stared at a little too fondly while Kai showered in the bathroom, was tiny. Soobin had always been too tall for his age, so it’s a struggle to wrap his brain around how a human being can possibly grow that much.
In any case, Kai’s adolescent growth spurt means there’s a lot of Kai to be appreciated. It also means Soobin’s sudden and all-consuming fixation on Kai’s bare feet is just — just weird.
But is it really his fault, when Kai’s feet look so dainty? Almost too fragile for the kinds of choreography Soobin has seen him execute, to be honest.
It doesn’t help that said feet are also on his lap.
“I didn’t know being your personal bodyguard warranted being your personal footstool as well,” Soobin comments, unsure of where to put his hands.
“Well, this is how I lie down on the couch, and you happen to be here,” Kai mumbles from beneath his phone. If just-got-off-the-stage Kai smelled nice, though a little stale, freshly-showered Kai smells even nicer. Which doesn’t even make sense, because they just used the same body soap, but — for the strangest reasons, it smells different on Kai. Better.
Yup. He’s definitely going bonkers.
“This also happens to be my bed for the night,” Soobin informs Kai. “That I should be lying down in. And sleeping.”
Kai peeks out from behind his phone. “Come lie down then,” he says, straight-faced.
“I — you — there’s not enough space,” Soobin says, weakly.
“Sure there is,” Kai says, a touch coy.
Soobin finally settles for folding his arms awkwardly.
“Come on, hyung,” Kai says, now a little whiny. “Do you always have to be so... so professional?”
“This is kind of my job,” Soobin reminds Kai.
“But,” Kai says, a little hesitant. “We’re friends. Right?”
Soobin blinks. “I... guess.”
“I guess?” Kai echoes, indignant.
“Yes,” Soobin says hastily. “No. I mean. Yes! We’re friends!”
Kai pouts. He looks ridiculous.
Maybe a little cute.
But mostly ridiculous.
“You should go to sleep soon,” Soobin says, when the silence stretches on a little too long. “You have a 6am tomorrow.”
Kai stretches lazily, toes going all pointy in Soobin’s lap. Soobin refuses to stare. “Okay dad,” he snarks.
“Friend,” Soobin corrects, and tries not to notice the way Kai smiles in response, small and pleased.
Sending you all the signs
But this line, it’s hard to climb
Fanmeets stress Soobin out.
Most fans are civil, really, but some fans can be a little crazy. Crazy nervous. Crazy in love. And just plain crazy — especially the fans who address their love letters to him. Not Kai. Him. Choi Soobin. Bodyguard to global pop sensation Huening Kai. He’s a nobody. Why on earth are people giving him love letters?
You have really cute dimples one of them reads. Okay. He’ll take that. He likes his dimples too.
You and Kai look so cute together! another one says. Soobin frowns. What does that even... mean?
You’re so handsome and cool <3 say a few others.
The worst thing is, Kai won’t stop laughing at him every time it happens.
“Stop that,” Soobin hisses, when the sixth — seventh? He’s lost count — fan shyly hands him a letter and stands there, starry-eyed, while Kai laughs obnoxiously at Soobin.
“It’s true, you know,” Kai says casually, after gesturing for Soobin to come nearer so he can whisper it into Soobin’s ear. “You are handsome and cool.”
Soobin clears his throat and doesn’t respond in his valiant attempt not to turn beetroot.
He receives 37 letters by the end of the fanmeet, which isn’t much compared to the 592 letters Kai receives (Soobin knows, because he’d kept a mental count as Kai passed him the letters for safety checks), but still. It’s a record number of letters addressed to him since he started working for Kai.
“The fans love you,” Kai remarks, as Soobin ushers him through the corridors after the fanmeet ends. “We might need to get a bodyguard for you too.”
“Good thing we have Taehyun and Jaehoon then,” Soobin says, amused.
They’re nearing the exit of the building, and already Soobin can hear the chattering of fans crowding near the exit for one last glimpse of Kai.
“All clear?” he asks into his in-ear.
“Clear,” Taehyun says.
“Clear,” Jaehoon says as well.
“Okay, approaching,” Soobin says.
Kai perks up and walks ahead with a little bounce in his step. It’s been a year since he debuted, but the novelty of meeting his fans clearly hasn’t worn off on him yet.
They exit, and Kai raises his hand to wave, and then Soobin sees it. Someone’s hand, holding up a lightstick. That by itself isn’t out of the ordinary, so it’s purely out of instinct and years of training that he darts forward anyway, just in time to shield Kai from the lightstick that soars through the air and hits Soobin on the shoulder instead.
It bounces off and shatters upon hitting the ground.
Kai startles.
“Come on,” Soobin says brusquely, bringing a hand to Kai’s back and basically shoving him into the van, where it’s safe. God. Some fans are crazy, and not in a good way.
Soobin slams the door, and the cheers of the fans immediately go mute.
“Oh my god, you’re bleeding,” Kai gasps, bringing a hand to Soobin’s shoulder. The shoulder of his shirt’s a little torn where the lightstick must have cracked and scratched him, and there’s a small smear of blood that, slowly, expands across his sleeve.
“It’s okay,” Soobin grunts, rolling his sleeve up to inspect the wound. It’s just a small scratch, nothing a little time won’t heal, but from the way Kai goes frantic with worry, it's almost like he'd lost an arm.
“I’m so sorry,” Kai gasps, fingers flitting over Soobin’s shoulder, one hand clutching his bicep. “Oh my god. Here — Beomgyu? Do we have a first aid kit?”
Beomgyu hands it over from the front seat. “He’s been through worse, he’ll be fine,” he says, quirking an eyebrow at Soobin. “Thanks, Soobinie. I can always count on you.”
“My pleasure,” Soobin says, quirking his lips in a smile. He’s worked with Beomgyu for years now, as the power manager-bodyguard duo — together with Yeonjun, at first, and now together with Kai.
“I’m really sorry,” Kai says, sounding wrecked, tearing open an alcohol swab with shaking hands.
“It’s not your fault,” Soobin says, settling back into the seat as the van starts off. “Just a small scratch.”
“But,” Kai says, brows drawn together. “You’re hurt.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Soobin says, turning to look at Kai, who’s cleaning his scratch with great care. “You don’t have to — I can clean it myself.”
“Let me, please,” Kai murmurs, swiping delicately at the cut.
“O-okay,” Soobin says, heart thrumming from what must be the remnants of leftover adrenaline, and lets Kai clean up the blood and stick a plaster over the cut. Kai‘s biting his bottom lip the way he does whenever he’s upset, and Soobin refuses to examine why he notices these things. Probably just an occupational hazard from spending nearly all his time looking out for Kai.
“I don’t ever want you to get hurt,” Kai says lowly, so soft Soobin nearly doesn’t hear him over the sound of the engine. Kai rolls Soobin’s sleeve back down but doesn’t let go of Soobin’s arm, just peers up at him after he’s done.
“Better me than you,” is all Soobin manages to say, and he doesn’t know why it comes out breathless.
—
For a bodyguard, Soobin knows he’s paid more handsomely than most.
He knows why, but it pains him to think about it, so he just accepts it silently and makes sure he does an excellent job at being Kai’s bodyguard.
In any case, he’s perfectly happy with his salary, which is why he has to stop himself from raising both eyebrows in utter disbelief when Beomgyu goes: “Hey, so, upper management’s offering to double your pay if you move in with Kai.”
“What,” Soobin says.
“Your salary,” Beomgyu says, slowly, like he’s speaking to a child, which Soobin doesn’t really appreciate. “Multiplied by two. If you pack your stuff and stay in Kai’s apartment. Basically 24/7 duty. Until they figure out how Kai’s address got leaked and find the culprit.”
“What about guarding his door?” Soobin asks.
“They figure it’s better to have you inside. In case someone tries to, you know, break in through other means.”
Kai lives on the twelfth floor, so Soobin highly doubts anyone will be scaling his building to break in through the window, but then again. The first lesson he learnt was to never underestimate fans, especially the crazy ones.
“Is Kai okay with this... arrangement?” Soobin asks, glancing at Kai, who’s warming up his vocals on the other side of the room in preparation for his performance later.
“Oh,“ Beomgyu says. “He requested for it."
This time, Soobin does raise his eyebrows. Kai must be more unnerved by the letter than he’d thought.
“You’ll still have your Sundays off,” Beomgyu continues. “So you’ll get off work on Saturday nights and return on Sunday night.”
“Who’s watching him on Saturday nights?”
“We’ll alternate between Taehyun and Jaehoon,” Beomgyu says.
Kai‘s distinctive laughter echoes through the room — he’s looking at the phone of one of his backup dancers, probably laughing at a stupid meme or something, and Soobin can’t help his lips twitching.
Yeah. Watching over Kai day and night doesn’t seem so terrible if he gets to hear Kai laugh like that more.
“Okay,” Soobin says.
“Great,” Beomgyu says, pulling out his tablet. “I’ve already drawn up the contract, so you just need to sign here.”
“Wow,” Soobin says. “Someone’s confident.”
“Please.” Beomgyu rolls his eyes. “You’re already whipped backwards and under for Kai. There’s no way you were gonna say no.”
“Hey,” Soobin protests, scrawling his signature on the screen. “I’m just good at what I do.”
“Too good,” Beomgyu says, accepting the tablet Soobin hands back. There’s a short pause, and then he says: “Tread carefully, Soobinie.”
“I always do,” Soobin says.
“Don’t lead him on.”
“There’s nothing to lead on.”
“You’re supposed to be the observant one,” Beomgyu says. “You’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“You mean, like, with the crazy eyes?” Soobin asks, thinking back to all the times Kai tried, for unfathomable reasons, to imitate a seagull‘s expression for Soobin’s viewing pleasure.
Beomgyu sighs. “He’s writing a new song. Guess what it’s about.”
“The ever-relatable pain of unrequited love?” Soobin guesses drily.
“Go figure,” Beomgyu says. “Go home and get packed. Taehyun’ll cover you tonight. I’ll see you at Kai’s place later.”
“Yes sir,” Soobin says, saluting, and laughs when Beomgyu flips him off.