Chapter Text
You forgot the small detail that Yeosang lives with Yunho, and as Seonghwa leads you down the hallway, you find yourself falling further and further behind him.
He lets it slide a few times, but you keep doing it, and you keep getting more and more shy. He can't not notice that, can he? Maybe you were only being polite when you suggested this; he doesn't doubt that you’d help them with any medical issue, but this is no such thing. He feels like a hypocrite— that fan crossed the line with him, and here he is, crossing the line with you. “It's okay if you changed your mind,” he tells you, smiling reassuringly.
You shake your head immediately, because you haven't changed your mind. You have an inkling about what the problem is; you don't blame either of them for it. If the two of them would have been a little less caught up in their own insecurities, Yeosang would have told Seonghwa more clearly that he wanted to come along— or Seonghwa would have figured out that something was wrong and would have pressed.
Seonghwa doesn't seem to believe you, though, and tilts his head at you curiously. You don't quite want to tell him about your stupid fancall with Yunho; especially now when you’re so close to his door, for fuck’s sake. Your brain chooses this exact moment to remind you of the overwhelming fact that you are interacting with them in person. You thought you've processed this by now, but apparently you have not. “Uh, I…” you try, and clear your throat when your voice comes out raspy. Seonghwa, for his part, is suddenly reminded of how much he likes it when girls have deeper voices. “What if someone, uh… do you guys ever get checked on?” A sliver of panic creeps in as you realize that this is indeed possible. It was an excuse meant to conceal your real doubts, but for fuck’s sake, it would definitely not be a good thing if you were caught in their room. At this hour, no less.
He frowns. “Not… exactly,” he says. “We did as trainees, and… well, sometimes Gihun-hyung comes over to see how we’re doing, but it's not…” His eyes widen, and he blushes as he realizes the same thing you just did. “I’m… sure it won't happen tonight. And we won't stay for long, right?” He tries to smile. You try to smile back and draw a little closer.
You gain a little more courage, but it unsurprisingly fades as soon as you find yourself outside the YunSang dorm. You take a few steps to the side as Seonghwa knocks, and he gives you a long appraising look, but doesn't have the time to ask you again if you changed your mind, because the door opens.
Jeong Yunho, in the flesh.
“Oh, and… this is my cat! Her name is Zelda, and she’s really been looking forward to— Zelda, come here. No, don't—” A swear word. Another swear word, directed at Zelda’s mother, who for all ends and purposes was also you. A thump as your phone falls. You, fumbling to pick it up, only to get scratched over the face by your own cat, your little child! Yunho, keeping on asking you if you're okay, and you, hoping that the scratch isn't bad enough to be seen on camera. But your bothered cat’s claws were sharp, and the fucking quality of those fancalls was mind-boggling.
Yunho's eyes turned sad and worried. “Are you okay? You're bleeding— I’m so sorry.”
The call itself was only two minutes long, so the rest of it consisted of Yunho apologizing over and over and trying to comfort you while you were trying to apologize to him and reassure him that you're fine.
You pray to whoever’s up there listening that he doesn't remember.
Even though in the end it turned out… alright, you suppose. When the timer announced to you that you have twenty seconds left, you told him you appreciate his work a lot and thanked him for his time.
But he talked to many fans throughout his career, and you doubt that your scratched face was anything memorable.
“Is Yeosang okay?” Seonghwa asks in Korean, but that's about as much as you manage to understand. You stand aside awkwardly and try not to think too much about the flicker of recognition in Yunho's eyes when they meet yours.
You pick up Yeosang's name and a few words, but not enough to properly understand what they're talking about. Still, you can guess. A part of you hopes that Yunho will say that you can't come in.
“Come in,” he tells you, his eyes as kind and sweet as they were the last time you talked to him. Seonghwa sees you hesitating and gives you a reassuring smile. Overwhelmed and more than a little awkward, you slip inside, the clicking of the door shutting after you making you jolt.
Seonghwa knocks on Yeosang's door, and you can take a hint. Obviously it wouldn't do for a stranger to show up in his room like this— and fuck, both you and Seonghwa had such a bad idea, because now you're alone with Yunho, and he can't quite meet your eyes.
“Do you— uh, would you like something to drink?” he asks you, and you really aren't sure you can stomach anything right now, but you nod and thank him anyway. He leads you to the kitchen so you two can give Yeosang and Seonghwa privacy. “Is Cola okay?”
“Definitely. Thank you.”
He pours the contents of the can in two glasses and hands you one, unbothered by the fact that your fingers brush. He offers you a seat at the table, but he stands, leaning back against the counter. You don't know where to look; if you cast your eyes around the room, he might think you're scrutinizing his living space, and if you look at him, he’ll think you’re scrutinizing him.
You feel your cigarettes slipping from your wide pockets and push them back in. He catches the movement. “If you want to smoke, you can.”
You shoot him a grateful look. You aren't really craving a cigarette right now, but it will give you something to busy yourself with, and if he gave you the okay… You slide a cigarette in your device and place the pack on the table in front of you as you wait for it to heat up.
He studies the inscription on the pack intently, but it's in your language and he doesn't understand a thing. “What’s the…” he searches for the word, “...the taste?”
“I still haven't figured it out,” you say with a small laugh as you take a drag. “Before I light it, it smells of tropical fruit, but the actual taste feels more like… pudding? The kind of pudding that was made out of questionable ingredients and was left in the back of the fridge for three months.”
He laughs, soft and genuine, and your insides flutter. His eyes are so intense on yours, as if he's giving you his undivided attention. You're sure he's like this with everyone, but it still makes something in you snap. You’re rarely ever looked at like that. “Can I try?” he asks.
You ponder it. Normally you’d have no qualms sharing a cig, even after you smoked from it first. “You're a smoker?” you ask. “I have this rule of not giving cigarettes to non-smokers. I don't want to be responsible for anyone picking up this habit,” you explain, shrugging apologetically.
“Oh, I’ve tried stuff before,” he replies. “I don't like how Mingi and Wooyoung's taste. Seonghwa-hyung’s cardboard cigarettes are better, but I'm not… I like it, in a way, but I don't plan to start… you know,” he finishes, turning a little pink. It's even more apparent on his skin, as he’s papery pale, and you start feeling a little more confident about your own face’s tendency to show everything you're feeling.
You playfully raise a brow. “Smoking, you mean? You’re not allowed to say the ‘s’ word?” you tease. He flushes deeper, but there's a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, letting you know that he appreciates the joke. You check your device and take another drag. There's about halfway left. “I’ll finish this and you can have one,” you say.
“I don't think I can smoke an entire one,” he admits, lowering his eyes. “Can I just, uh…”
You’re a little surprised by this. You haven't expected him to want to share with you like this. Still, you get up from your seat and pause in front of him, holding out your device for him. His eyes flicker, and he takes it. You linger there, at a respectful distance but still close, as you're curious of his reaction. He takes a deep drag and doesn't cough, but he grimaces.
You can't help grinning. “That good, huh?”
“Oh, it's not— it's not bad,” he defends. “I guess I could get used to it.”
“Well, we don't want that, do we?” you tease softly, but you don't attempt to ask for it back. It gives you a strange feeling, watching Yunho smoking from the cig you just had in your mouth, and if you were to tell the past version of yourself who nervously paced through her apartment in anticipation to his call that this would happen, she would have laughed in your face. Even now, you can hardly believe that this is happening. “You're not supposed to inhale so much, by the way.””
He gives you a tiny pout. He's as beautiful up close as he is through a screen, if not more; the red hue still lingering on his bare face, the slight dryness of his lips, the faint shine of moisturizer on his skin… it brings out his marbled, sweet eyes, and humanizes him in yours. Not that you haven't acknowledged him as part of the human species before; but seeing him this way makes it easier for you to look back on your failed video call with him more indulgently. You're just a person who made a mistake in front of another person.
“You inhale like this too, doctor-nim,” he says lightly.
“It’s because I started out with vapes,” you say in a similar tone. “Besides, Yunho… you should do what the doctor says, not what she does.”
He laughs, gentle and deep. “I’ll keep that in mind.” The cigarette beeps its announcement of completion, and you can tell that he doesn't want to waste it, so he takes another puff, but doesn't give it back to you just yet. His intense eyes on your face are holding you captive. There's a long moment of silence, and it's when you realize that he’s looking at your cheek that you're certain he remembers you. “I’m happy it didn't scar,” he says, barely above a whisper.
His direct acknowledgement of it strikes you down. You stammer, unable to get a word out. “I, ah— Yunho, I… you…”
“I knew I recognized you before,” he says, “but I thought, ‘there's no way’.” His lighthearted, gentle confidence slips a bit, replaced by something caught and almost fearful in the face of your overwhelmed silence. “It was you, wasn't it? If it wasn't and you don't know what I’m talking about, please ignore me.”
You suppose you could play along and say that you have no idea what he's on about, but what would that do? Mina has the fan call’s record. If you outright lie to him, it would be even more embarrassing when it gets exposed. Plus, Yunho seems so nice. If you're wrong and he's going to mock you for it, then at least you’ll know what kind of person you're talking to. “If you're referring to the fan call,” you say, “then you’re not wrong. It was me. I'm the girl who traumatized her cat in front of you.”
“She seemed fine to me,” Yunho says with a small smile. “You're the one I was more worried about.” His eyes flicker to your cheek again. “You were bleeding.”
“I asked for it,” you reply, relieved and slightly flustered at the direction this conversation is taking. The worry in his eyes is obvious, and it makes your stomach flip. If there was a contest of whose face is redder, you’re certain you’d win. “I raised that cat to be spoiled, and she forgot how to listen to me!” He laughs. “No, but really. Zelda’s the best diet stimulator,” you joke. “If I can’t find her, all I need to do is set the table, and she’s at my side in an instant. I look at her, she looks at me, and I’m losing the battle. Either I give her some or I stop eating altogether. And it's not as if I’m not feeding her! Purina One, mind you. And she has so much energy, always running around…”
Caught up in the fond and slightly exasperated memories of your cat, your eyes were fogged up, and when they clear, you see the soft look in Yunho's eyes, looking at you so fondly that your breath hitches and your mind momentarily blanks. “She sounds like a fun companion.”
“She is,” you say, slightly breathless and unable to look away from him. Slowly, he raises his free hand to your cheek and brushes his thumb over your skin. Your face cooled off, but now you feel it growing hot again. You’re weak. Now you can be certain that he wasn't faking his worry back then, on the phone. He's even touching the right cheek. “I can't believe you remember all that,” you manage.
His touch lingers for a moment longer before he releases you, and then he removes the cigarette from the device and throws it away. He hands it back to you with a small smile, and he's blushing too. “Hard to forget,” he mumbles, then a few words in Korean escape him. You don't ask him what he meant. Instead, you look at him curiously.
“Oh, yeah? How so? I’d have thought that you’re used to seeing girls getting nervous in front of you by now.”
Yunho relaxes against the counter. “Is this what happened to you, doctor-nim? Did I make you nervous?”
You back away slightly, a tiny smile on your lips. You try not to read into this too much. “You were sweet,” you say, avoiding his question just like he avoided yours and making him blush again.
“A—and now? Did that… am I…?” His coherence flies out the window, but you think you understand what he’s trying to ask.
“If you're still my…” You want to say bias, but something stops you. “...favorite?” you ask. Yunho lowers his eyes, shy, but you see him nodding weakly, almost fearfully. You keep quiet for a while, pondering your answer and leaving both of you in anticipation. Just as you open your mouth to reply, though, you both hear steps approaching. Yunho stands up a little straighter. So do you. Yeosang and Seonghwa are coming.