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The thing is, Wonwoo has always been a good listener. He likes it that the members trust him with their problems, likes doling out warmth and understanding when any of them need an ear and no opinion. Listening has always been integral to his identity. So when Mingyu asks him to talk after practice one day, he doesn’t question it. Assumes the discussion will be about Mingyu’s life, Mingyu’s troubles.
He’s a bit shocked when Mingyu pulls up a video of him, instead.
“Hyung, is there something you wanted to share with me?” Mingyu’s tone is teasing, but Wonwoo can hear the hurt hidden in it.
The thing is, Wonwoo knows Mingyu well. Mingyu likes being loved, likes loving in return. He enjoys being close to people. If he thought it were possible, Wonwoo thinks Mingyu would use every oversized muscle in his oversized body to squeeze the sadness out of all of his friends, and then make them ramyun with eggs after. Ages ago, Wonwoo had fallen in love with Mingyu because of how effortlessly loving people came to him. He’d fallen out of love because he wasn’t sure his capability matched Mingyu’s.
That didn’t change the fact that Mingyu was once his whole world - still was, in full honesty, just in a different shape. So he finds himself sheepish as he watches the video, which shows all the fondness of his smile directed at Chan in excruciating HD. “Mingyu-ah…”
“You could’ve told me hyung! I wouldn’t have told any of the members, promise.” Wonwoo knows. That’s not why he didn’t tell him.
“I know, Mingyu-ah, that’s not why I never talked to you. I’ve not talked to anyone about this, for that matter. It’s just… Now's not the right time for it. That’s all.” He doesn’t know what to do about the emotion simmering in Mingyu’s eyes. “It’s not so serious Mingyu, please don’t be upset.”
“I know hyung, but isn’t it serious? If you like him you should do something about it. Don’t pretend to yourself that it’s nothing.”
“It’s just a little crush, Gyu-ah. It’ll pass” Mingyu doesn’t seem mollified, but he nods and leaves. Wonwoo doesn’t have the heart to be honest about his feelings right now.
The thing is, whatever monster was eating at Wonwoo’s chest was not just a little crush.
He’s very frightened of it, as he sits with Chan and watches him devour a bowl of jjigae with gusto. He’d offered to buy it for him, and the speed with which Chan accepted made it feel like not much had changed. They were still growing boys with bad haircuts and bottomless stomachs, stuck in that headache-inducing pistachio room.
Except.
Things had changed, hadn’t they? They could afford choreographers other than Soonyoung. People recognized them, in public, asked for photographs and signatures with burning red faces. Wonwoo had even taken his shirt off on camera, of all the insane things in this world. But that wasn’t really the change that scared him.
Chan had always been young, in a way that had very little to do with his age. He’d always shrugged off members who coddled him, wanting equal footing. He threw himself into everything he did, worked himself to the bone to gain others’ respect. Chan thrived with praise, lived off of it (Wonwoo had a type, looking back on Mingyu), but never believed the remarks of “good dancer,” “amazing performer.” None of it was enough. There was something incredibly adamant about the way he refused complacency.
But then, as Wonwoo had watched, Chan had changed. He’d become less insistent on turning down the members’ coddling. He still worked hard but there was less insecurity behind it, more surety in his focus on the studio mirror. And, well, respect wasn’t all that Chan chased anymore. He’d become softer, sanding down the edges of his critique and letting the others and himself go home earlier from practices. Chan had changed, but his boyish smile had always been there, his square jaw and boisterous laughs.
So when Wonwoo suggests Chan head home to rest rather than go to the studio to perfect himself raw, he’s happily unsurprised by Chan’s agreement. The muscles in Chan’s arms shift as he picks his backpack off the restaurant floor (another change). Wonwoo tells himself to not stare.
What scares Wonwoo is the enormity of feeling inside his chest. Chan’s shoulders are broad and his smile is broader, and Wonwoo would do insane things to see them every day. Including taking his shirt off on camera (Chan had wolf-whistled in solidarity, that time).
Mingyu had shared a theory with Wonwoo, once, too close to the truth to be comfortable at a bustling coffee shop. “Hyung, I don’t think you’re actually an introvert.” Wonwoo chokes on his latte and coughs violently, tears gathering in his eyes. Mingyu scoots closer to thump his back.
“Everyone says you’re an introvert, but I don’t think you actually are. I know you’re a quiet person, but you don’t dislike being around people. You look so happy when it’s just you and some of the members, right? You don’t seem tired at all.” Wonwoo considers this for a second, and nods.
“I guess that’s true. But sometimes being around the members makes me feel so tired, even if there’s no cameras.”
“I think you aren’t an introvert, hyung, but I think some situations make you nervous. You think so much about everything that a lot of situations feel very high-stakes to you. That’s why you get tired, not because you can't handle people.” Though he’s loath to admit it, it’s true. He’s a chronic overthinker, making mountains out of molehills and regretting every word as soon as it leaves his mouth. “I have a theory that that’s why you like video games so much. They’re the one place you can do things without having any possible consequences in the real world.” Wonwoo bites back a comment, at how an action in shooter RPGs was very different from an action that could ruin his career. Despite the flawed logic, Mingyu is right. There he went again, being loving so easily. Giving Wonwoo love in a file format he couldn’t accept.
“I guess.” He wonders if Mingyu has a theory for the tightness in his throat. Around them, the coffee shop hums.
When Chan calls him and says he’s coming over in half an hour, Wonwoo does the reasonable thing and immediately goes to the bathroom to check his reflection. Because he’s still a fucking adolescent, apparently.
His face is… well. It’s a face, for sure. He needs to shave soon, if he doesn’t want Seungcheol hopping on his ass. It’s a problem for tomorrow. His eyes are red from straining at his monitor all day, though it’s hard to tell behind his glasses. There are three dark acne scars running along his cheek bone, accompanying the hyperpigmentation near his sideburns. His hair is a bit shorter than he’d like. He looks remarkably average.
He’d been called handsome when he was younger, long before the insanity of idol life, but it had felt different back then. It was one thing for a girl to approach him in the hallway between classes; it was another for strangers to salivate over his chest and post thirst edits about his glasses (of all things). It’s jarring, the visible difference between the man he is online and the man he is in the mirror, in the practice room, in his apartment. He doesn’t know how to tell people that their thirst edits aren’t about him, not quite. There is some overlap between his real self and the persona he’s cultivated: being quiet was real. Wearing glasses was real. But to them, his glasses were sexy and his silence was mysterious . He’s neither of those things.
He wonders what Chan sees, when he looks at him. After all, Chan got both worlds - him with perfect skin and meticulous outfits, him with acne scars and nighttime stubble. He decides to stop thinking and leaves the restroom, intent upon tidying up before Chan arrives.
His buzzer rings soon and he can see Chan’s face through the small screen, the poor quality distorting his image. It’s a little funny. Chan’s head looks too big for his body, like it did at tender fifteen. Wonwoo can feel himself grinning as he lets him up. He doesn’t really know why Chan presses the buzzer when he lives in the same building. He hears a knock and goes to open his door, but Chan doesn’t come inside.
“Can we go for a walk, Wonwoo? The weather’s nice today.” The weather is nice, the night time bringing cooler air with it. It would be good to leave his apartment today.
“Sure, Dino-yah. But call me hyung you brat.” Chan just snickers, though it’s subdued. He had an interesting habit of biting his tongue when he was up to mischief, the pink flashing between his pearly teeth. It’s not healthy for Wonwoo to think too much about that tongue. He pulls on sneakers and grabs a jacket, pocketing his keys and locking the door behind him. He fires off a text to Mingyu, letting him know that he’s out with Chan.
Mingyu responds immediately with a singular eggplant emoji. Idiot . He can picture those canines glinting.
The area near the apartment building is still somewhat active, despite the late hour. Wonwoo has half a mind to ask Chan what he was doing out so late in the first place, but the sweats and t-shirt under his jacket are a good enough indication. As is the smell of sweat, if Wonwoo’s honest. “How was practice, Channie?”
“It was okay. I’m trying to pull something together for a new Danceology, but I don’t know. Something about it feels too stilted. I don’t have the same brain for choreo that Soonyoungie does.”
“He’s your hyung too, punk.” Chan sticks his tongue out at him. Wonwoo doesn’t have a response for his self-deprecation, at least not one that would be appropriate. He doesn’t know how to tell Chan that he’s amazing without letting his feelings spill into it, without turning the solace into an ode. He tries, anyway. “Don’t be so harsh on yourself, kid. Doesn’t the choreo always go through different rounds before you decide on something? Your brain is just tired. You’ll be brilliant once you’ve rested.” Chan is silent.
Wonwoo can feel himself slipping into a daze, the pavement against his shoes rhythmic, the voices around them blurring together. The streetlight above is bright, but it’s not much against the yellow glow of the moon. It’d been some time since he could walk outside without a manager and hordes of cameras. He feels insignificant, then, and it’s idyllic.
“Hyung, why do you still call me kid? I’m not even three years younger than you, and we’re all in our mid-twenties.” Oh. Is that what made Chan quiet? “I just… I don’t really know how to say all this right.”
“There’s not a right way to say what’s on your mind, Chan. You just need to say it. I’ll listen.”
“I know you will. Earlier, before we left your place. You called me Dino, not Chan. It started making me think.” He pauses. “When I was younger, I used to hate it when you guys would pull \age rank on me. I didn’t want you guys bossing me around, yeah, but I also didn’t want you being nicer to me just because I was younger. I wanted to earn it all.”
“You did so much to earn it Chan. You still do, even though you don’t need to.” Wonwoo can’t get it out of his mind, how hard Chan tries.
“I feel weird about it all, lately. I really did dislike being the youngest of such a large group. There was one point when I kind of started hating my stage name, Dino, because I felt like it made me seem too childish. Like, look, this punk is short and has a baby face and has a name only a toddler would pick out.” A breeze flows through the street and kicks Chan’s bangs up. “I’m kind of… okay with it now, though? I thought I hated being young and being associated with it, but now that I’m not so young I miss it.”
Wonwoo thinks he understands it, perhaps not to the same degree as what Chan feels. He does miss being young, in the ways that mattered. He misses having the freedom to make mistakes, the assumption of stupidity that came with youth. Expectations were much more pressing once you got older - no one expected much of the young. Had he gone to college, stayed away from the idol path, he could’ve clung to it for longer.
“I don’t think you hated being young, Chan, I think you had high expectations for yourself, even back then, and you felt insulted that people didn’t think the same. You thought high expectations and respect went hand in hand.” Voicing his thoughts was difficult. “I think we all realize that being young is nice only once we’re older. It’s one of those hindsight things.” He feels like there’s more in there that he needs to say, but he doesn’t know how to get it all out. He wasn’t used to giving so much input. “This is nothing against you, but I think you also forced yourself to grow up too fast because of your expectations. It was one thing, when the expectations were your own, but it’s another when you have outside ones weighing on you too.”
“Was it stupid of me, to do so much back then?” Chan sounds bitter, listless. Wonwoo can’t have that.
“Being stupid is part of being young, Channie. And even so, look how much everything has paid off. None of your work was ever wasted. But it’s okay, too, to not try all the time.” Wonwoo’s heart is in his throat, wondering if his next words will give Chan the love he needs but not the love he didn’t ask for. “You don’t need to try around me.”
“You’re so wise when you actually speak, hyung. You should talk more.” There’s a tremor in Chan’s voice, so Wonwoo loops his arm through Chan’s and falls into step beside him. It’d been a heavy night, and he figures Chan would want some privacy after the way he’d just bared his mind to him. He wonders, too, if Chan actually wants him to talk more. His throat hurts a bit, after so much use.
Practice is exhausting and Wonwoo’s voice hurts. It had been a weird change, when Jihoon started giving him lines to sing. He kind of misses when he was just a rapper.
Chan walks over to where he’s lying spread-eagle on the floor and joins him, though he’s much more controlled in the way he sits down. Wonwoo’s too tired to overthink, right now, so he closes the distance and puts his head on Chan’s lap, prepared to take a power nap before practice starts again. Chan pulls off his beanie without asking and starts carding fingers through his hair. It tickles, but it’s nice. Soothing. He’s surprised Chan isn’t grossed out by the sweat.
He opens his eyes. Chan is looking at him, smiling, but he’s not fully present. He has a double chin from this angle, and Wonwoo delights in reaching up to poke it. Immediately, Chan’s face squeezes into an annoyed smile and he swats his hand away. Wonwoo’s used to being taller than Chan, used to looking down to see him. He wonders if Chan can see something new from above.
He closes his eyes. Chan is warm, if a little sweaty, and his thighs are excellent pillows.
Some time later, as he’s packing up to head home, he sees Jeonghan and Mingyu talking to each other in hushed whispers. Jeonghan has a knowing smile and Mingyu keeps shaking his head. It doesn’t bother him at first, until he hears snippets of ‘Wonwoo’ and ‘Chan’ and ‘Wonwoo and Chan’ thrown around. For a brief moment, it makes him oddly relieved. He likes the sound of their names together, likes thinking about what it would mean if the two of them were a unit. Then his stomach twists. He couldn’t… he couldn’t handle it, if everyone in the group knew about it. He doesn’t want that kind of attention. The concern of just one person was suffocating enough - eleven people would crush him. Not to mention the catastrophe if Chan found out.
He stops Mingyu and waits until everyone has left the room. Chan shoots him a smile and a “Bye hyung!” but it just makes him nervous, this time. “Be honest. Did you tell Jeonghan about me?”
“Hyung, what…”
“Kim Mingyu. Did you tell Jeonghan about my feelings? I saw you two, you mentioned our names and you were all hush-hush about it.” Wonwoo can’t keep the desperate edge out of his voice.
“Hyung, why do you think I’d ever up and tell Jeonghan that?”
“Not on purpose, but by accident maybe. You know Jeonghan’s clever, he can figure out anything-”
“Stop it, hyung.” Mingyu sounds miffed. “I may not be smart like Jeonghan, but I’m not dumb. I know better than to let anything slip. And for the record, hyung did ask about you two, but he figured it out on his own. I didn’t confirm or deny anything to him. He saw you staring at Chan during practice, hyung.” Mingyu’s voice is wobbly, and he sniffs out a laugh. “You’re not subtle.” Wonwoo’s stomach is in knots, and he feels nauseous. He’s paranoid. He hurt Mingyu and he’s paranoid.
“I know you don’t like being the center of attention, but none of us would judge you. Even if all of us knew, would it be so bad?”
“Mingyu-ah, I’m sorry, I just… I get worried that if one person knows then it’ll spread, and Chan will hear about it. He doesn’t need to deal with that, now.”
“I know you won’t believe me hyung, but Jeonghan asked me about it because he saw Chan staring first.” Wonwoo is at a loss for words. “The results won’t be as bad as you think, if you do something. Don’t make the decision for Chan.” Mingyu picks up his bag and rushes out the door, still distraught. Wonwoo doesn’t know how to fix this, any of this.
“Hyung, how come you and Mingyu aren’t talking? Did you two fight?” Of course people noticed. Of course Chan noticed. He and Mingyu were usually on top of each other during practice, trading hugs and compliments and pats on the ass. Mingyu is sitting on the other end of the room today, scrolling through something on his phone while Soonyoung keeps poking him. Wonwoo could easily lie to Chan and say they weren’t arguing, everyone was just busy - Chan would probably believe it. He wasn’t the most perceptive, if the way he’d never noticed Wonwoo’s heart eyes was any indication.
Wonwoo doesn’t want to lie to Chan, though. Never Chan. “It wasn’t really a fight. There was just a misunderstanding.” Chan, ever curious, doesn’t hesitate to pry.
“What was it about?”
Wonwoo would never lie to Chan, but he doesn’t deny skirting the truth. “I thought Mingyu told Jeonghan one of my secrets, by accident. He was hurt by the insinuation.”
“Ah. I’m sure you two will make up, you always do. I think that’s why you two are so good together.” He sounds sullen. Wonwoo’s about to hum his assent until he hears that second part. Together ? The wording throws him off.
“Chan, what do you mean by together?” Wonwoo is very, very confused.
“What?”
“You said Mingyu and I were good together. What do you mean by together?”
“You and Mingyu-hyung are dating.” When Wonwoo’s expression doesn’t change, Chan starts to look confused himself, his eyebrows pulling down into a frown. He tilts his head to the side. “Right…?”
Wonwoo doesn’t really know what to say. He can’t even begin to wrap his head around how strange of a misunderstanding it is. His current… whatever Chan is, thinking that he was in a relationship with his past whatever-Mingyu-was, who was also his current best friend. That line of thinking would give him an aneurysm, so he tries to not dwell on it.
“We’re not dating, Chan… We never dated?” Chan’s face is unreadable, not because it’s blank but because it’s cycling through so many different expressions. Wonwoo remembers a joke about someone going through the five stages of grief at once, except whatever’s on Chan’s face is not quite grief.
“ What ?” Wonwoo shakes his head. “ Never ? Not once?” Wonwoo shakes his head again. “But don’t you like him? Like, romantically?” Wonwoo shakes again, but pauses.
“Nope. I mean, I did a long time ago, but not for a while now.”
“Hyung, what ?” Chan’s voice is almost shrill, and it would be comical if not for the insanity of their discussion. Wonwoo doesn’t change his stance and stares at him. Chan looks away, then looks back, then looks away again. Rubs his face. He’s turning an alarming shade of red which, again, would be endearing under different circumstances. “I’m just gonna go, I can’t-” He starts grabbing his water bottle, his hoodie, shoving everything into his bag in a mad rush. Wonwoo reaches out to grab his shoulder and stop him. God this is awkward . He wants a lobotomy.
“Chan, wait, please stop. What gave you the impression that Mingyu and I were dating?” Chan’s eyes are wide, embarrassed, nervous.
“I mean, you two have always been close? And you live together, and you’re super touchy…” Wonwoo knows his own face must be blank right now, one of his inscrutable expressions. Resting bitch face , Jeonghan would call it. He truly doesn’t know what to do with his face, or his words, or his anything, in light of all this. “Never mind, just forget I said anything, please forget this happened.” Wonwoo can see Seungkwan looking at them from across the room, one eyebrow raised as he sips on an Americano. The momentary distraction is enough for Chan though, who pulls Wonwoo’s hand off his shoulder and rushes out the door. Wonwoo can only stare, his mind on the brink of imploding.
Seungkwan had crossed the room in the four seconds it took Chan to rush out. “Lovers’ quarrel?” he asks, somehow managing a smirk even as he takes another sip. Wonwoo makes as if to punch him, then grabs his shoulder and lets his head fall.
“I don’t even know what that was,” he groans. It’s true. He can’t even dredge up a reason why Chan would be so embarrassed, so frantic, but then he remembers Mingyu’s words.
Don’t make the decision for Chan.
Chan may have been massively wrong about certain things, but he hadn’t been wrong about this. Wonwoo and Mingyu make up after a few days. All it takes is a hug and a few kind words, and they are back to normal.
Chan, though, is not normal. Not at all. Wonwoo knows the expressions of a person who has things to discuss - he’s used to seeing it on people’s faces when they approach him. Chan walks around for days on end with that expression, but whenever he sees Wonwoo he just turns the other way. He’s not quite avoiding him: he still sits near Wonwoo between practice sessions, still looks at him when they’re talking among the larger group. All his weirdness is wrapped up in plausible deniability and tied with a ribbon. Wonwoo has the mental image of Chan’s head in a gift box.
One time, while he’s sitting near him, Wonwoo slings his arms around his waist, giving Chan a backhug. He's had time to accept that he feels an inordinate number of things for the man, had time to recalibrate his actions to normal levels of touchy and sickly sweet. Maybe, given more time, he could recalibrate his thoughts too. That was how he’d gotten over Mingyu. But that's not the point. He can feel the moment Chan realizes it’s him, because every muscle in his body goes stiff and he lurches. If Wonwoo wasn't bigger than Chan, he probably would've been thrown off.
"Chan, is everything okay?" He tries to be quiet to not alert the members, unlike their last little conversation, keeping his voice low and leaning close to Chan's ear. Chan jumps again.
"Yeah, everything's fine, hyung. I'm just tired, the Danceology is coming out soon." Plausible deniability. Wonwoo's perplexed as ever, but he decides to not press it. If Chan wanted to talk, he'd do it in his own time. Practice resumes a few short minutes after that, and all is kept aside.
The Danceology is out less than a week later.
It’s always a little jarring to see Chan dance. It’s almost as if Chan’s mind inhabited two very different bodies. Normally, Chan wasn’t particularly sophisticated or smooth in his movements. He walked like a normal person, slouched every so often. He wasn’t like Minghao, whose body exuded elegance regardless of time or place.
Chan’s second body was another matter. Wonwoo watches the video with its desaturated colors, observes the lines of Chan’s body, notices how he matches some motion in his body with every single beat. He has incredible control over his body, no part too small to be curated to perfection. For fucks’ sake, his hair flops in time with the beat. Whatever stiffness he’d complained about weeks ago was gone.
Wonwoo gets jealous, once in a while. He wonders what it’s like to love something as deeply as Chan loves dance, to love something so strongly that it becomes synonymous with his existence. He’s never felt anything like that in his life. He may have those murmurs in his chest for Chan, but he’s not capable of turning himself into a shrine to Chan. Not the way Chan has turned his body into a shrine for dance. He’s seen the way Chan grits his teeth at the gym, the way he’s melted the young softness off his body.
The more he thinks about it, though, the more tragic it gets. Chan’s body would fail him, eventually. All of their bodies would. They’d already begun the slow descent into aging. Jeonghan’s elbow, Seungcheol’s back. Wonwoo’s eyesight worsens by the day, enough that his doctor suggested an eyepatch, and he can’t pretend to miss the crows’ feet etching themselves onto Dokyeom’s face. Some day, none of them would be able to dance. None of them would be beautiful enough to be idols, to compete in an industry where youth was traded like currency. And what would Chan do then?
He’s surprised by his phone buzzing, a minute later. It’s a video call request from Chan. He opens it, and he has to school his expression when he realizes that Chan is shirtless, in bed.
“Did you see the Danceology? It got posted a few minutes ago.” Wonwoo can't place the tone of Chan’s voice. He sounds almost… wistful?
“Of course I did, Chan-ah. You did so well.”
“Thanks, Wonwoo.” A pause, as Chan swallows. The video quality is grainy, but Wonwoo can almost see the way his Adam’s apple bobs. He doesn’t bother reminding Chan of honorifics. “Sorry I’ve been kind of weird lately. I think you noticed.” Wonwoo doesn’t know whether to be satisfied he was right, or to be concerned that Dino is admitting it.
“It’s okay. I mean, I did notice, but sometimes we all just have weird days.” He tries to adopt a reassuring expression. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“Don’t say that. I do need to apologize. I shouldn’t have shut you out just because I was being weird.” Oh, Chan was too good. Wonwoo remembers acting strange when he’d first realized his feelings for Chan, avoiding him and drowning out the world with some PC games. He’d never insisted on an apology like Chan was doing right now.
“Chan, I mean it. It’s okay. You honestly don’t need to apologize. Make it up to hyung by coming over more, hmm?” He tries to not let his throat catch on the next part. “I’ve missed you.”
“Okay hyung.” Chan’s face breaks into a yawn, his eyes shutting as his mouth goes wide. It’s kind of funny. Wonwoo would screenshot it, if not for Chan sitting up and stretching suddenly, more of his chest revealed as his blanket falls off. His nipples are a tawny brown against his pale chest. Wonwoo panics.
“You seem sleepy, we can talk more later, okay?” He ends the call and stares down at his home screen, trying to collect himself. He is an adult. He has had sex. Seeing a shirtless man should not faze him, especially not when he’s seen countless shirtless men in his lifetime. It’s practically an industry requirement.
Industry requirements didn’t really account for Chan’s nipples.
Wonwoo restarts Chan’s video and watches it. The singer’s voice is breathy, and combined with the bass pounding in the background, it’s undeniably sensual. It’s impossible to take his eyes off Chan, off the way he slides his leg against the ground, the lines of his body as he pushes his chest in and out in time with the music. He wants to drag his hands across that chest.
He can feel the warmth stirring low in his belly as he loses control of his thoughts, wondering what it would be like for Chan to use every bit of that body control in bed, what it would take for Chan to forget that control. For Wonwoo to be the only one who got to see Chan like that, for Chan’s hair to not flop around and to stick to his forehead with sweat. He can picture how Chan’s flush would go down his chest, tinting the skin coral. Chan wasn’t pale but he was paler than Wonwoo, and the juxtaposition of their skin tones would be resplendent.
Wonwoo sighs, accepting defeat. Somehow, age hadn’t diminished his abysmally horny imagination. He feels guilty, knowing he’s objectifying Chan, and he can imagine the kind of lecture Minghao would give him. His guilt doesn’t outweigh his want, though. Making sure his door is locked, he palms himself through his shorts, once, letting out a breath at the pressure. It’s not nearly enough.
Anime fanboy that he was, Jihoon had recommended Spy x Family to Wonwoo, so when Chan comes over during a free day he suggests they watch it. Chan approves.
They’re lying on his bed, Wonwoo’s laptop near his footboard, their legs stretched straight out. It’s a little amusing, how much further his legs reach than Chan’s. The animation style of the show is adorable, and Wonwoo finds himself chuckling often. Yor is walking across the screen when Wonwoo notices Chan has his tongue between his teeth again, cheeky smile on his face.
“Do you think Jihoon watches this for the plot, hyung? Or do you think he does it to stare at Yor’s tits?”
Wonwoo bursts out laughing, hiding his face in his hands as his eyes tear up. God help him but Chan was absolutely going to hell. His stomach hurts from the force of his laughter and Chan’s cackles are even louder than his own, filling the room with joy. Wonwoo thinks of people in old times, carrying pictures of lovers in necklaces. He wants to keep Chan’s big laugh in a little golden locket, wants to feel the weight of it on his chest at all times.
“I bet he does it to watch Loid, actually.”
“That’s not fair, I would watch this just for Loid. Loid is stupid hot.”
Chan is stupid hot too, but Wonwoo doesn’t think he can say that out loud yet. It’s not just in the musculature of his arms, revealed by a white tank top, or the prominence of his Adam’s apple. His entire body is a study in contrast. The delicate slope of his cheekbones with the square set of his jaw, the silky sweep of his hair brushing the texture of his stubble, the high pitch of his voice against the enormity of his shoulders. All of it was so beautiful, when boxed in the parcel of this man. He tells his past self to screw off, the past self that thought he could ever get over Lee Chan.
“You remind me of Loid, a little bit.”
Wonwoo can sort of imagine why, but he wants to hear Chan’s thoughts. “Chan-ah, are you crazy? Why?”
“You both have that whole strong, silent type thing going on.” Wonwoo had anticipated that. What he hadn’t anticipated was this: “You look like him, too.”
“Really? I haven’t had yellow hair in a while though.”
“Yeah but-” he waves his hand vaguely at him, seemingly flustered. His ears are a lovely peach-pink. “It just works, that’s all. Don’t ask me why.”
Wonwoo is flustered too. He tries to not let himself think too hard about it, but he’s learned by now that he’s terrible at controlling his thoughts. He’s already turning red as he does the mental gymnastics. Chan thinks Loid is hot, Chan thinks I look like Loid, therefore Chan thinks I’m- Order of operations. Deductive reasoning. Whatever the right math term was. He’s absolutely a grown adult, but it’s a little impossible to convince himself of it whenever he reacts to Chan.
“Okay. That’s very sweet of you, regardless.” Chan is definitely blushing and Wonwoo feels a little giddy, running through the possibilities.
He’s reminded, once again, of Mingyu’s words from ages ago. Don’t make the decision for Chan . Had so much time really passed since that day? It’s hard to keep track. He’d been trying to listen to Mingyu, for once, and see what would happen. He’d been trying to figure out what decision Chan would make, if Wonwoo did ever decide to do something.
This is what he’s learned: Chan blushes around him, sometimes a light peach and sometimes a burning red. He’d spent a while avoiding Wonwoo just as Wonwoo had avoided him, when he first realized his feelings. He goes to Wonwoo when there are things on his mind, but he also listens when Wonwoo relates to him. He wants Wonwoo to talk more, he stares at Wonwoo, he says Wonwoo looks like stupid hot anime characters. Chan started being more… present, once he realized Wonwoo wasn't dating Mingyu. And he definitely flexes around him. Wonwoo should think it’s stupid of him, too much like a teenaged boy, but if he’s being honest it’s ridiculously endearing. And sexy.
He sees Chan staring again, out of the corner of his eye, and he wonders if he’s ever palmed himself through his sweats with thoughts of Wonwoo. He wonders what triggers it - the width of his shoulders, or the cut of his jaw. The dip between his pectorals in v-neck shirts.
The greed was so much stronger when absolution felt within reach.
Wonwoo is sitting on the floor of the practice room when Chan comes to him, doused in sweat, bag slung over one arm.
“Soonyoung said you wanted to talk to me about something? He said it was urgent.” Wonwoo huffs at the lack of honorifics. One of Chan’s eyebrows is raised, but it’s a little hard to tell whether it’s intentional or not. One of his eyebrows usually seemed higher than the other.
“What? I never said anything to hyung. Maybe he meant someone else?”
“No, he definitely said your name. Are you sure…?” Wonwoo just shakes his head, but he sort of has an idea as to why Soonyoung would tell Chan this. Most, if not all of the members know that he’s in love with Chan. They’d been trying to push the two of them together on various occasions - seating them together in interviews, shooting him a thumbs up if they saw them talking, making the two of them take pictures together. It isn’t as bad as Wonwoo had feared, long ago. Their antics are more entertaining than anything, because somehow their stupidity knew no bounds. Chan seemed as unaware as ever. All was well.
“Actually, hyung, I wanted to talk to you about something, if that’s fine?”
“Yeah, of course. Did you want to talk here or somewhere else?” Chan has his hands folded in each other, his eyes flitting from Wonwoo’s face to the floor.
“I’ll come over tonight.”
It’s nearly nine o’clock when Wonwoo hears the buzzer ring. Somehow Chan still refused to use his own key to enter the building. He lets him up and unlocks the door, yelling “It’s open!” once Chan knocks. Chan toes off his shoes and Wonwoo ushers him to the sofa, but then remembers Mingyu will be home soon and diverts him to his bedroom instead.
“Do you want snacks, water? We have some ramyun, I know I can’t make it as well as Mingyu but if you want some-”
“It’s fine, hyung. I’m not hungry, I just wanted to talk.” His eyes are like they were earlier that day, moving from the bed to Wonwoo to his gaming console back to Wonwoo again. Wonwoo wants desperately to soothe whatever phantom worry is chewing at Chan, but he doesn’t really have the faintest idea where this is going.
“Whenever you feel ready, Chan-ah.”
“Wonwoo, I…” His throat bobs. “I think I like someone? I might even be in love with them?” Wonwoo can feel his stomach drop, thinks he might shit out his heart. “I don’t know if they like me back, though.” His voice sounds so, so small. Wonwoo tries to be a good hyung and push past his own possessiveness. He tries to push past the urge to lock the door, to keep Chan all to himself.
“Oh, Lee Chan.” He thinks this is what Chan needs right now. A sincere tone, a gentle hand on his knee. “They’d have to be stupid to not like you back.” Chan doesn’t need to hear the mantra of who is it who is that bastard who the fuck running through his chest, bubbling in his stomach.
“It’s one of the members, hyung. He’s definitely not stupid.” Wonwoo tries to not let it get to him, but somehow it feels worse, knowing it is one of his loved ones that has won Chan, not some faceless, nameless stranger. Not stupid, eh? So it’s one of the smarter ones. Jeonghan, perhaps, though he mothered Chan often. Maybe Hansol? Wonwoo didn’t have a clue as to everything the maknae group got up to. “I tried to be more obvious about it, you know? That’s the worst part. I tried to spend more time with him, joke around with him. I’m so bad at reading people and he’s so quiet, hyung, I can’t tell what he’s thinking half the time.”
This makes Wonwoo’s internal rampage pause. He thinks back to it, the little checklist he’d made of everything Chan did around him, how he’d started to become sure of Chan maybe feeling the same way as him. He thinks of Mingyu: Don’t make the decision for him . He thinks of how Chan complained that he never talked enough, the desperation in his eyes that night.
He makes a decision, not for Chan but for himself.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about, Chan, not really. But before you keep going and… and beating yourself up, I just wanted to say. I like you.” Chan’s eyes are widening, his mouth open as if he’s unsure whether to say something or just stare. “No. I’m in love with you, actually. I have been for a while now. You may not feel the same way for me, and you’re probably talking about someone else right now, but everything you’re saying makes me think you’re talking about me and I just-” he’s overcome with emotion, with feeling, with so many unnamed things. “I know I’m not particularly wonderful, or spectacular, or loving, but I really, really hope I’m not wrong about this.” He’s not above begging. “ Please tell me I’m not wrong about this.”
Chan just stares at him, eyes wide, face turning a brilliant red that Wonwoo can’t decipher anymore. The silence is painful. Wonwoo can feel the remnants of his courage slip away by the second.
“You idiot hyung, you’re so fucking stupid. I was talking about you.” He’s had enough. Wonwoo lunges forward and grabs at Chan’s face, pulling him in. He can feel Chan’s arms go around his back, fingers tickling the nape of his neck as he presses his lips against him. It’s shockingly desperate, messy in a way that makes his soul burn. When Chan parts his lips and slips his tongue in, he can’t even comprehend the sound he makes. He’s a quiet person but God does Chan make him want to be loud.
Because the world is turning upside down and because he’s frantic, he pulls away and nearly crumbles at the whine Chan lets out. There’s not enough time for that though, not when his hands drop to the hem of Chan’s shirt and push up, up, pulling it off and rejoicing in the feeling of muscle, at the give in his stomach, the bumps of his ribcage. Because he thinks he’s allowed to do this, now, he trails kisses down Chan’s neck and collarbone until he reaches a hauntingly perfect nipple and licks, sucks, bites. There’s a beautiful motif of whines coming from Chan’s mouth, the most perfect symphony.
He brings his mouth away from Chan to just look at him, look down at the man that made him unafraid. Chan is flushed a gorgeous pink, a shade Wonwoo sincerely hopes is reserved for him.
“I take it back hyung, you’re an absolute idiot. You give me food and listen to my problems and make me think everything might be okay and say you’re not loving? Such a dumbass.” And Chan is pushing him down before he can respond, hands pushing his own shirt off. He feels burning hot under the hand that’s tracing over his sternum, rolling a nipple between its fingers. He wants to tear his vocal cords out over the absolute filth he sings when Chan puts soft lips against the tattoo on his ribcage and says “Stupid.” He bites, soothing the sting with tongue after. Wonwoo hadn’t worn a crop top in a while so he hadn’t shaved his happy trail, and he thinks of the transcendent when Chan swirls a finger through the hair there.
He pulls his mouth away and grins up at him. Wonwoo is beyond delirium at this point, and he can only muster a feeble smile back once he realizes that Chan’s hair is still floppy despite the sweat on his forehead. He has his tongue between his teeth again, mischief written all over his face. He crawls up Wonwoo’s body - crawls! - and smirks down at him, straddling his hips and bracing his arms against Wonwoo’s shoulders. And then he rolls his hips down and Wonwoo curses because fuck Chan for being a fucking dancer
and then his brain catches up with his dick because oh my God Mingyu would be coming home soon and that would be a nightmare. He gasps out a “Wait, wait-” and grabs for his phone on the corner of the bed, shooting Mingyu a text warning him to not come to the apartment or else. Chan keeps up his assault and Wonwoo feels like he’s being set on fire, the way his hands shake because he can feel Chan’s hard-on pressing against his own as he texts his roommate. The smile on Chan’s face is absolutely devious once Wonwoo sets his phone down.
“You don’t ever talk hyung, who knew you could be so loud, hmm?” Chan’s hands are pressing into the button of his jeans and Wonwoo wants to slap him but also wants to suck his dick.
Wonwoo has about a million notifications on his phone from the members’ group chat, because of course the members put two and two together. Vernon would have noticed Chan not coming home, Mingyu would have mentioned that Wonwoo exiled him. All of them noticing is inevitable, really.
He’s not terribly worried about it. They'd always been like that: nosy, dumb. Loving. He only hopes he doesn’t have to hear jokes about Chan’s chili pepper.