Chapter Text
Chan's POV,
“How did you know that after exercising, I had to take off to meet with the dance instructor alone?”
“Well, isn't that you need some physical assistance, but you can't always seek our medical advisor, especially so late in the night?”
“Uhm, yeah, I mean. I do need to consult with Yujin sometimes.”
“If you wanna fix your posture, she is a good choice.”
“Right, she is…”
#
Chan prided himself on being someone who took control of his life, well, he was sure not someone who easily got mindless with his work and overslept until a member came to wake him, but here he was, slipping on the spin chair in his studio, oversleeping and was woken up by Hyunjin, a resident late riser.
“Channie hyung,” the younger male slid a hand through Chan's collar to catch Chan's nape and knead it while Chan's head was ducking from his side to the back of his neck. Chan frowned in a stupor and thought idly about why Hyunjin was calling him. Hyung.
“Jinie? What are you doing here? So late?” Chan mulled out loud in raspy whispers which were soaked in a sleep haze. He took a deliberate breath, preparing himself to assist Hyunjin with anything from an idea for his new beat, a night drive and accompanying him as he painted to bulk-buying his favourite snack and munching them with him in an indoor pillow fort with rhythm and blues in the background.
“Is it past midnight yet?” Chan asked again, wearily, when Hyunjin seemed to stand there without a word slipping through his lips. Pretty, pinched lips.
“Hyunjin?” He tried, this time with knitted brows when Hyunjin looked like he might want to burst out in anger or tears, both of which definitely too soon was something Chan wanted to face after he was just up from a shuteye.
“Hyung, you have been cooped up a whole night in your den,” Hyunjin caved, his face crumbled in glum, and his hand on Chan's nape was squeezing so fucking tight. Chan winced and whimpered. He wondered whether it was because of Hyunjin's sudden force in his thumb or his voice that affected him.
They were in his studio, which oddly was all too bright for Chan's blurry eyes; he squinted, making a wrinkle evident on his forehead. There were, Chan reckoned, noises outside that were like faint tapping and shuffling and weren't unthinkable, but rarely did they occur when he was usually having his late studio time.
“You told Changbin hyung before he went back last night that it only took you a lil bit more to finish up and return to our dorm, didn't you?” The young male pinched Chan's neck before he stroked the sore spot gently. What was he saying? Changbin was gone...
The sound of a whirling fan in the aircon above him made weird thumps as it ran. He should have turned off the appliance by now. No wonder he had chills on his back, Chan reasoned.
“I was under the impression that you were home, Channie.” Hyunjin continued tightening and loosening his grip on Chan's flesh. Chan prided himself on being methodical with his work, having carefully drafted plans for almost every day. But he could not find the perfect balance between his work and personal affairs just like he had yet to grasp the perfect version of himself.
Chan blinked—his eyes looking up at Hyunjin's even more pinched face and stayed within his grip because Hyunjin rarely demonstrated blatant concern like this. Their Hyunjin would rather die than go out of his way to break into anyone else's space, for he was one to guard his privacy like a squiggly ferret defending his cave from other animals, bunnies, and the like.
“Yeah,” Chan acquiesced with a tired smile, “I was working late, but what do you mean ‘a whole night’, Jinie?” The older rapper inclined his head that was still in Hyunjin’s growing warmer palm. Chan inhaled a bit sharply as Hyunjin crowded his space, successfully blocking Chan’s view of anything other than his thighs.
“You did not go back, and it’s eight in the morning, hyung,” the younger rapper said in a grave tone. “Even if this eyesore has a padded cushion, you shouldn’t have stayed here.” He suddenly sounded like Minho to some extent, inferring Chan’s swivelling chair, Chan pondered—particularly when Minho wanted Chan to learn a certain dance move that he did wrong during their practice. Did they spend that much time together? Wildly, Chan mused before he registered those words. It’s eight already?
“Oh, fuck. I’m dead meat.” Chan yelped, scrambling woefully out of Hyunjin’s feverish grip and away from his cushioned office chair to dash out of his studio and obliviously, leaving a thank to a muttering Hyunjin.
“What’s with him… He hasn’t even had breakfast.”
#
“You should have alerted me when the game console broke.”
“I know you might get it fixed, Chan, but you were still asleep.”
“It's fine. I won't be mad or anything.”
“I know you won't, that's why I didn't. Felix, Jisung and I can afford more game consoles if we really want. But we can't, won't afford your sleep to be cut short.”
“Since when you kids became Chan-weary huh?”
“Chan ah, we all saw it when you moaned about your headache. And obviously, we could take care of it ourselves.”
“Chan,” a peck on the older's forehead. “It is time you have us take care of you. Put up with it.”
“Your peck resembles my mother's.”
“That's a complete buzzkill. I'm overjoyed.”
#
“Hyunjin, what're you doing?” The leader asked, feeling quizzical at the things Hyunjin was doing to his hands, especially his wrists.
Hyunjin, who presumably came to watch Chan work on their tracks, had been glaringly eyeing Chan instead. There were quite a few times when Chan caught his stealthy eyes darting to and fro, with an ineffable message.
Hyunjin, who was watching Chan mixing an echo in the pre-chorus, had come with three beverages, one regular espresso for Jisung, one latte with hazelnut milk for himself and for Chan, an almond tea. It must have been one of those nights when Hyunjin decided to not spend his night polishing his dances to perfection.
Jisung had gone out to receive their deliveries of Jajang-bap and jjajangmyeon since Changbin, the occasional producer and always their errand boy, wasn't here today in the first place. Hyunjin joined Chan and Jisung's producing sprint as they shouldered through a third track.
The dark-haired dancer gave some feedback on the newest bass (one that only a subwoofer could reproduce) added to the punchline, his hands a blink away from Chan's waist, and his arms casually leaning on his hips.
Chan sipped on his tea and smiled per Hyunjin's prompt while the younger was drinking his latte. They were working diligently for the past hour or two, quite productive, if Chan dared say, having two new ideas crafted and one track done.
With bleary eyes and a pretty ask, Hyunjin began to tug his chin on Chan's shoulder as the leader needlessly continued his work.
He was gentle, Chan sensed it in the way he moved, and he’d feel his feet brush against his ankles multiple times. He appreciated it—the physical closeness Hyunjin offered.
Therein lay a bit of a problem when, out of the ordinary, the young 00z grabbed Chan's hands and started rubbing his fingers and wrists with rapt attention.
“Hyunjinie?” Chan glanced over his shoulder where a chin was rested, trying to catch Hyunjin's eyes.
“Hm,” murmured Hyunjin, who was giving Chan a hand massage, making Chan blither happily.
“Hyunjinie?” Chan tried, again after getting only a shrug from the said male. Chan couldn't help feeling a bit humoured by this gesture at the same time, Chan was in silent bliss getting this treatment for his tired wrists (though Chan had said nothing about it.)
“Wow, there. I'm jealous over here,” whined Jisung, witnessing Hyunjin's little administration, but neither Hyunjin nor Chan was stopping their so-called brotherly affection. Chan hummed in his throat the beat of one of their mixtapes.
“Thanks, Jinie ah. I can't say I know what reason you would do this for, but I am happy nonetheless.” Chan spoke with wonder on his lips and warmth in his heart.
Hyunjin shrugged noncommittally. His longer fingers slotted themselves between Chan's stumpier ones. Chan looked at their hands, they looked like they were joined together. His stomach fluttered.
“That should be me, holding your hand,” lamented Jisung in a singsong manner. Chan looked back at him who was sitting just by his left, on his own padded chair.
“Oh, shush,” Hyunjin told him with a bite, faint by the tone of it.
“Oi, shouldn't you feel honoured to hear my incredible vocal?” Jisung made a whiny comeback, and Chan winced, guessing whether he might witness one of their infamous spats or not.
“Do you wanna know my answer?” Hyunjin quipped comely.
“Sure,” Jisung was pouting, but looked interested after all, regardless.
“Baby, it was never you.” And Hyunjin laughed, his lashes batting. Chan wanted to feel bad for Sungie, he did, but he felt quite smug inside. He still patted Sungie's head and ruffled his hair just for good measure.
#
“How do you know I need a new bedroom chest?”
“Well, it's easy to notice the changes you made in organizing your clothing and footwear. You always have a set of rules for such things.”
“I suppose, but still, why did you buy me a new five-drawer chest?”
“You need a place to put the new toys I bought you, Channie. It was obvious.”
“It was?”
“It was, but don't panic, babe. No one ever notices that unless you let it slip. Will you keep it a secret, Channie?”
“I will.”
“Good boy. Now, what do you want as a reward, dear Channie?”
#
“Hyung,” there he was, Chan mused, the silent visitor to his abode. The leader grinned, settling down his well-used headphones before turning around to meet Hyunjin's brown hickory eyes.
“Heya, did the dance practice for your solo being goin' well?” Chan intently asked, feeling keen despite the late timing and his body ache. He prodded himself up and prompted his chair in Hyunjin's direction, taking in Hyunjin's straightened shoulder line and forward stance, wondering why the young fellow hadn't settled down on the studio couch already.
“It's all good, hyung. Why don't we go out for a bit?” The boy in a grunge tee said, passing the couch in the middle of the enclosure and bending down over Chan's chair to gaze down at his leader. Chan fidgeted under the tall boy's stare and cleared his throat, enunciating:
“Uhm, I've got a bit of work undone,” Chan offered an apologetic smile and drifted his eyes to anything that wasn't the younger man. Hyunjin probably had his choreography learnt already; he would be fine for the Inkigayo special which was scheduled in two days, but Chan wasn't—fine, that's it—when he still got his neck deep in these demos.
“Maybe next time, Jinie.” He averted, but then Hyunjin abruptly pivoted himself away from Chan, taking away the silent heat that Chan unconsciously craved. The young dancer plopped down on the leather couch with a grunt, calculatingly eyeing Chan before he informed him:
“Then I'm gonna stay here until you can wrap it up.” In Chan's defence, he had never seen Hyunjin act like this, with all confronting and no downcast eyes, hence, at that moment, it was only a matter of time before his breath hitched.
“Aren't you a bit strange today, Jinie?” Chan scratched his neck, a little too forceful as he felt Hyunjin's stares. Perhaps, Hyunjin needed company, and today, and it was Chan whom he picked out of the other seven members. That couldn't be right? Changbin would be much more fun to hang around, and Jisung and Minho too, whatever they might be doing right now, they would have spent time with him. Any of the kids, actually. Just not me.
“Well... I don't know when I can get them done. But wait for me a bit.” Hyunjin let out a low noise, indicating his stubbornness as his legs crossed before him and arms crossed behind his head. Chan corked his brow, his stomach negligibly stirred.
Behind Chan, Hyunjin's little commotions were there when he was playing match 3 on his mobile. The younger's feet made little tapping noises when the synth of one of the demos started. They stayed this way for a while; the clicking sound of Chan's mouse and the beat snared from Chan's headphones made him unaware of the passing time.
Soon, Chan got a track done and thereon calmly accepted his fate, resigning to put aside the remaining tracks or have Jisung help in arranging them. He moved the finished track quickly from the engineering software to the ‘on track’ folder on his screen and stood up from his chair.
“Hyunjin, let's go.” Chan took his beanie with him and was a step out of the door when Hyunjin's grip on his wrist stopped him. “I bring your jacket with me. Lemme give it to you,” said Hyunjin.
Chan blinked his dry eyes, feeling the parchedness under his heavy lids, “Ah, thanks a bunch. I left it in the practice room, right?” Maybe Hyunjin had wanted to give him back his Givenchy all along and wasn't having a thing he wanted to do afterwards.
“Here,” Hyunjin's feet stopped before Chan as he put the black outer garment on Chan's shoulders, pausing at the motions and running hands on the clothed body. He was smoothing out his jacket as though it was a shirt instead of a jacket.
Chan blinked sluggishly, thinking this wasn't what he expected when Hyunjin offered help. This supporting gesture was too useful, insistent, and powerful for Chan's evening sentiment. In truth, Chan thought it was bizarre.
“What is this, Jinie? You never acted like this,” Chan pushed his heels forth to look at Hyunjin's profile, searching and was taken aback when Hyunjin's hand seized his skull before it gradually and gently cupped his blond locks. Hyunjin looked like he wanted to say something—but it was nothing either easy or explicit.
“I do, Channie. You mustn't have noticed it, and you should by now.” Hyunjin moved his lithe and awfully warm hand down Chan's nape, effectively bringing Chan back to that time when he woke Chan up after an overnight in this same studio. Chan reckoned his heart thudded, for he was suddenly so panicked he could feel each of his own heartbeats.
Chan didn't know why, but in his experience, life was full of thrills because here he was, feeling them prickle on his scalp. Chan asked, “Hyunjin, do you have something you want to tell me?”
When Hyunjin divulged that Chan was the one to not notice his doings, momentarily he was reminded of the little things. Things like Hyunjin started to get up earlier to check on Chan wherever he was and began to schedule his meals at the same time Chan would take his. He would bring him food—well, to be fair, Hyunjin brought enough for anyone who was with Chan during those times that he did.
“You should stay away from this little cubby of yours and come hanging out with me, you know?” Hyunjin grinned, but in his brown eyes, Chan saw no joviality and tease. There was only an overlay of something he wished he could reach. Chan stood there, looking for that emotion, and before he could decipher what it was, the younger looked away, striding to the studio doors.
Chan frowned, gaining his composure, and out with Hyunjin he went.
They talked a bit about the track Chan was working on before Hyunjin pulled him to a different route from the usual jogging track the members frequented and suggested, “Let's get ramyeon and bibimbap from the store.”
It was a serene night with people scarcely on the street. The streetlights were practically blinding, and there were no stars in the immense black sky. Out there, in the open, on their own, they were both contemplating something, Chan learned. There was this solid unintentional stillness that was rooted between them like a grey elephant.
“Hm, we might have puffy faces tomorrow, even eating ramyeon at this time of the night,” Chan mulled aloud, his pointer finger and thumb under his chin, waiting for Hyunjin's contribution. The stylist and make-up artists would toot at them, knowing where they were heading. But wherever it was they arrived, it wasn't the usual convenience store, for sure.
“Alright, how about ox bone soup?” The younger male said, without a second delay, and pulled Chan nearer to his side. They were just a touch, probably a hint away from each other. Chan was shell-shocked at the turn of the event and the atmosphere that hung between them.
“Really? Right now? I don't have that much with me now, though.” Chan worried his lips, thinking about the expense of that steamy bowl of bone broth in their district. The nutritious soup that took hours, up to a day to cook probably cost at least their pay per day, theoretically, if they had wages instead of, well, idols' income.
“It's okay, Channie. My treat,” said the long-haired boy, and Chan was frankly, what was it, he thought, awed, “Are you actually trying to win me over?” Chan laughed; his laugh echoed in the boiling silence.
“Hyunjin if you really need Hyung's favour, just say the word.” He nudged the young rapper hard enough to make him wobble, feeling as though the laughter drained his scratchy voice. I fucking need more water, Chan mulled.
“No need to bribe me, you dolt,” Hyunjin berated and Chan heard shoes shuffling, and in no time, he was pulled into a dingy byroad that had been there since the time of South Korea Industrialization age.
Hyunjin argued, “Hyung, listen to me. I'm not a child you need to take care of. Well, not anymore that is. I am well past twenty, and soon, I have to take care of those I love. Besides, I have yet treated you to that infamous grilled ribs, remember?”
“Okay,” Chan nodded, his hands were restrained by Hyunjin on the wrists. He was clutching him hard while Chan racked his dehydrated brain for anything to distract him from their proximity—a concept that seemed less real by the minute as Hyunjin was leaning in and in.
“Hyunjin, tell me the truth if I ask you this.” Chan's voice was a touch too rough when he looked up to stare into Hyunjin's eyes, unflinchingly.
“Do you have feelings for me? You can just brush it off if what I asked was ridiculous.” Chan's eyes began to roam on the young face before him. His nose bridge, his brow arches, and his Adonis lip bows.
“What do you intend to do after you have my answer, Channie?” Chan saw a slight twist on the pretty lips.
“I don't know, now, do I? But I suppose I want to be sure of something in my life.” He heard himself saying.
“That sounds fair.” Chan heard a deeply considering tone and saw the twist of those amble lips flattened.
Chan wryly smiled, “It does, doesn't it? To feel sure of something you have been wondering for a while.”
“Have you been wondering whether I love you or love love you, Channie?” Hyunjin smirked slightly. In the dark, it had a tremendous effect on Chan's mentality. He had always been weak for pretty boys. Under his beanie, Chan's hair started to get damp with sweat.
“I have, yeah. You know, Jinie, I think it's best to set it straight...since you know,” Chan attempted, flicking his eyes up at Hyunjin, smiling and wanting to appear more calm than he was feeling, his insides squirmed funnily.
“No, I don't, unfortunately,” Hyunjin said, and he was practically looming over Chan while the older tried to suppress a shudder.
“Since those squeaky little creatures aren't waiting for us to hang around any longer,” Chan replied, looking at the fat, furry little monster that just scampered near them a moment ago. By the time Hyunjin registered the leaping rat in the byroad, he groaned and took Chan far, far away from the spot.
“I have feelings for you, and this isn't how it is supposed to go. My confession.” Hyunjin pulled him, sounding off and kept pulling him until Chan asked him to slow down.
“It's okay,” Chan spoke up, holding his hand tightly still while Hyunjin spun his chin to the other side so that even if Chan so wanted, he couldn't see his expression.
“Just eat with me,” muttered Hyunjin.
They continued their way to the ox bone soup restaurant. In the chillness of the night, it felt right to have his hand warmed and perhaps, Chan thought, more than his hand would have that chance to be comforted.
“Okay.”
#
“Do you mind sleeping with me? Just hold me for a little while.”
“Oh, silly Chan, you could have asked for more.”
“Is that so? What should I have asked for, Hyunjin?”
“You could have asked for scented candles and memory foam pillows, and I could get them all for you.”
“I know you could.”
“Then why not ask for them, dear Channie? That implies I wasn't attentive to my baby these days.”
“No, you silly. You could always get them for my birthdays, you human heater.”
“I don't know if I should accept the implication, but alright.”
“What implication?”
“That implies I was only able to use my body right.”
“Well, ain't that right. Look at that, it's almost midnight already.”
“I think you need to see how right I can use my body.”