[b1a4] le fiabe della felicità ; 동화같은 이야기; jinyoung/gongchan; r; [1/2]
Title: le fiabe della felicità ; 동화같은 이야기
Pairing: Jinyoung/Gongchan
Rating: R; Warning (highlight to see) SI, Eating Disorders.
Summary: Jinyoung’s a model. Chanshik’s new to the industry. There are no fairytales in the world of fashion.
Word count: ~11,000
A/N: Originally a pinchhit for the B1A4 Secret Santa, posted at #14 - For: scarredknees from your Secret Santa
le stagioni ; 계절
It could be a happy ending, but there are no fairytales in the world of fashion. One could be as fair as Snow White and fit into Cinderella’s glass slippers, but that still doesn’t guarantee a thing.
l’inverno ; 겨울
There are sprinkles of snow in Jinyoung’s hair when he steps into DCM's photography studio
one. Winter’s almost over, though snow’s still falling in Gangnam -- just odd swirls here and there, but it settles in and melts into his styled hair, and he gently tries to pick out the white flecks before it ruins his hairstyle.
“Good morning,” he greets, bowing, and the staff bow back to him. He’s here to take some headshots for the upcoming High Cut photoshoot he’s been cast for, and he’s already halfway to the clothing racks when he notices that there’s someone already standing on the white floor draping of the studio. A boy, no older than him, dressed in a black suit. Armani, Jinyoung recognises. Standard agency photoshoot uniform for newcomers.
“Ah, good morning,” the boy says quietly, bowing, and Jinyoung hesitantly bows back in acknowledgement. He checks the time, then the studio number, and finally looks at the photographer in puzzlement.
“I thought I was booked in for ten,” he says, and the photographer pulls a face.
“Yes, Jung Jinyoung right? You are, but...” he sighs and motions towards the boy in the middle of the room. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says apologetically, “he’s new, and management ordered we make a composition card for him so we can try squeeze him in for something next week.”
“That’s fine,” Jinyoung replies politely, and arranges his fringe. “When can I come on?”
“In about half an hour,” the photographer says. “Jieun can fix up your hair and makeup while you’re waiting.”
Jinyoung nods, and heads over to where the cases of makeup and brushes are laid out on a small table, and seats himself on the stool as Jieun starts powdering his face. He can see the shoot quite clearly from where he’s sitting, just behind the reflectors and display. His eyes wander to the boy.
His facial features are sharp. His eyes aren’t quite even; one is smaller than the other, but his gaze is still intense. His nose is prominent, and his hair’s styled in a windswept fashion, which frames his face well. The way he poses is still unpractised, and he makes awkward angles with his arms at times, but he has definite potential.
Jinyoung doesn’t realise he’s staring until Jieun sighs and tells him to close his eyes so she can touch up on his eyeliner.
Half an hour passes quickly. Jinyoung’s in the changeroom putting on a sweater when he hears an earnest “you’ve worked hard!” coming from the studio. He fixes his hair one last time, and steps out to almost walk into the new model. He’s about to sidestep and excuse himself when the boy rubs his neck sheepishly and holds out a hand.
“I’m Gong Chanshik,” he introduces. “Um, sorry for that, I didn’t know I was taking someone’s time, I’m new and--”
“It’s fine, we can’t do anything about management’s orders anyway,” Jinyoung cuts him off, taking his hand. “And I’m Jung Jinyoung.”
Jinyoung doesn’t normally find himself almost colliding with the same person twice in the same week, but when someone trips over, kind of screams, and grabs onto the tail of his coat in front of the photo studio he’s headed towards for High Cut, he recognises the face immediately.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Chanshik says, standing up and brushing the snow off his knees, as Jinyoung gapes at him. “I was trying to catch up to you, ah, I’m Gong Chanshik in case you don’t remember.”
Jinyoung looks at him, slightly out of breath, nose red from the cold, and laughs.
“I remember. From last week right?”
Chanshik nods and beams. “They told me I’d be pairing up with you for High Cut!”
Jinyoung regards him with surprise. It had taken him two months from his composition card shooting to even be considered for a magazine publication, and he had gotten next to no pay, but it’s been less than a week for Chanshik, and he’s already been booked for High Cut of all magazines. But then again, the world is fickle -- and fashion’s fickler.
“Well, congratulations on your first job,” Jinyoung says, pushing down his resentment and putting on a smile. “We should head in before we’re late.”
The concept is fruits. Jinyoung’s eyebrow twitches.
“We’ll have apples on set to match the refreshing spring vibe of these clothes,” the stylist explains, picking out a bright red and bright green shirt from the rack and handing them to the assistants who start tugging the clothes off Jinyoung and Chanshik. Jinyoung simply raises his eyebrows and stretches his arms out, but Chanshik looks kind of panicked at the flurry of hands going at his shirt buttons, pulling at his sleeves, and Jinyoung laughs to himself. He was like that once.
“Just stay still, they’ll dress us,” Jinyoung murmurs, amused, and Chanshik nods and clamps his mouth shut. He looks like he’s concentrating really hard not to squirm away from the assistants’ hands, but he lets out a small yelp when their fingers brush across his chest. Jinyoung snorts.
“I’m ticklish,” Chanshik pouts as they’re ushered out towards the set, and Jinyoung’s lips twitch into a smile.
“You’ll get used to it. Let’s go pose with the, uh, fruits...” he nods towards the middle of the room. There’s a big white table with a straw basket full of green and red apples on top. The assistant arranging the apples notices them and signals to the photography team.
“You know, apples are my favourite,” Chanshik says happily, and picks up a red and a green apple from the basket. He holds them up next to his face and grins. “Aren’t I pretty?”
Jinyoung doesn’t normally muck around with his coworkers on set -- strictly business -- but Chanshik’s smile is kind of infectious. He ends up scoffing and whacking Chanshik on the arm.
“Okay, okay, concentrate,” he whispers as the director starts shouting garbled instructions at them. Half the words go over his head, but he hears phrases like represent spring colours and the youth of boys and he’s pretty sure he gets the gist of it.
“Set one! And try to use the props,” the director yells, and nods at the photographer to start.
“What do I do?” Chanshik whispers between his teeth to Jinyoung as he holds the apples awkwardly, smiling nervously at the camera. Jinyoung groans.
“Just, do what you were doing before,” Jinyoung replies, picking out an apple from the basket. Chanshik looks at the apples in his hands, and then back to Jinyoung, and there’s a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He pushes the green apple to Jinyoung’s face.
“What--” Jinyoung splutters, caught by surprise, and grabs onto Chanshik’s wrist to regain his balance.
“Yes, good, Jinyoung, now you can pretend to wrestle with Chanshik, fight for the apple,” the director instructs, folding his arms, and Jinyoung shrugs his shoulders and grins as he makes for the apple in Chanshik’s other hand.
The photographer signals OK after ten minutes. They’re ushered back into the makeup room to touch on their makeup, then into the changeroom to change out of the green and red shirts into bright yellow and purple ones. When they’re out on the set again the apple basket’s been replaced with bananas and grapes -- and a miniature palm tree, for whatever reason.
“Oh my god,” Jinyoung mutters under his breath. “What. Bananas don’t even grow on palm trees.”
This concept is just a bit out of his comfort zone and slightly too fruity for him, but he glances over at Chanshik and there’s a confident smile spreading over his nervous expression. He recalls his first photoshoot, how eager he was to please and make sure that nothing was out of place.
“You’re doing great,” he mutters, and he’s not sure who he’s reassuring, but Chanshik’s smile grows a little wider.
Sometime during the second set, Chanshik picks up a banana and pretends to shoot Jinyoung, grinning cheekily. Jinyoung has an overwhelming temptation to throw grapes back at him, but that would be both mean and unprofessional.
“Good,” the director praises, “that’s the mood we’re after,” and so Jinyoung gives in and picks up a handful of grapes and holds them above Chanshik’s head, smile spreading on his face.
The High Cut photoshoot ends well. The director’s pleased -- he gives little approving 'hmm's and nods as the photographer runs through all the pictures, and he beams at both Jinyoung and Chanshik as they emerge from the changerooms, back in their own clothes.
“You’ve worked hard,” he says, and Jinyoung bows to him. “You’re free to go now; we’ll contact DCM after publication so you can put it on your portfolio.”
“Thank you, you've worked hard,” Jinyoung replies, and bows to all the staff. Chanshik quickly follows suit, then tails him as he walks out of the building.
The cold hits Jinyoung the moment he pushes open the door, and he curses, pulling his coat closer to himself. Chanshik’s still behind him, biting his lip nervously, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to leave before him.
“Good job today, you did well for your first photoshoot,” Jinyoung starts, extending his hand, “Good luck for your future shoots, too.”
Chanshik looks at the proffered hand. He hesitantly takes it, but when Jinyoung’s about to pull his hand away and leave, he feels Chanshik’s hand tightening around his.
“Um,” Chanshik says, and Jinyoung furrows his eyebrows.
“Is there something wrong?”
“Actually, I was wondering, are you free now? For a coffee or something? I mean, like,” Chanshik continues, gaze dropping to the floor. “Since I’m kind of new and all, I don’t really understand modelling and I have a few questions...”
Jinyoung thinks. He was going to go restock his fridge, and maybe do a bit of cleaning, but that could wait.
“Sure,” he says, and Chanshik grins. “I can spare some time.”
They end up in a little café on a side-street which serves a decent enough Americano by Jinyoung’s standards. Chanshik is sitting opposite him, slurping on an iced mocha, which Jinyoung glances at warily. That’s 300 calories.
“Didn’t the agency tell you to watch what you eat?”
Chanshik looks up, and licks his lips. “Oh, actually, that was kind of what I wanted to ask about.”
Jinyoung blinks. “What, diet tips?”
Chanshik laughs, and puts down his drink. “No, no, I meant the agency. DCM. Can you...explain what they actually do?”
Jinyoung frowns in confusion. “But weren’t you trained at DCM Academy? I mean, all models receive the same basic training...I did when I joined the agency.”
Chanshik purses his lips. “No...well, they said I’d start training next week, but what’s DCM Academy? I’ve never heard of that.”
“They put you on a job without training?” Jinyoung frowns. “And you’ve never been to the Academy?”
Chanshik nods. “Actually, I was scouted two weeks ago by some agent guy. He said I had the right looks or something, and I was curious.”
“So you never wanted to be a model?” Jinyoung’s shocked. Chanshik had seemed rather comfortable in that first photoshoot, and today, as well. He’d never have guessed.
Chanshik shakes his head, then shrugs. “Well, I don’t know. It sounded exciting, and it doesn’t hurt to try new things.”
Jinyoung blows a stream of air through his lips, and thinks back to when he joined the agency. If he counted correctly, he received at least six months of training before DCM decided they would post his headshot on their website and create a composition card for him. Two weeks was absurd.
“You don’t know how lucky you are,” he murmurs, “landing a High Cut photoshoot as a rookie. I know some people in the agency who would kill for that.”
Chanshik shifts nervously in his seat.
“I’m going to work hard though,” he says after a pause. “My mum always told me that I should see things I start through to the end. And I’m a fast learner. And I know I’m lacking a lot but...”
Jinyoung smiles slightly. “No, sorry, that was mean. It’s okay, you don’t have to justify yourself, if you’re in then you’re in.”
Chanshik grins, and finishes off his drink. He takes a breath, and presses his palms together in front of his face. Jinyoung raises an eyebrow at him.
“What’s--”
“Can you help me? With modelling?”
Jinyoung looks at the earnest face staring back at him, the slightly unsure smile, the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows, and he hesitates.
“Please?”
Jinyoung hardly has the knowledge or experience to teach anyone -- he hasn’t been in the industry for all that long -- but he feels really bad turning Chanshik away when he’s asked so nicely. He figures he knows enough to give a few tips to a beginner.
“I guess I could try,” he says, and Chanshik bursts into a happy round of applause.
Jinyoung’s phone beeps ten minutes after he’s left the café. It’s a text message -- from Chanshik.
thanks for today ^^ you can’t change your mind ok! oh and be careful of the cold ♥
Jinyoung rarely gets text messages: Dongwoo normally calls him, as do the people from DCM, and he’s not really on close terms with anyone else. Jinyoung feels a smile spreading on his lips. It’s a nice change.
No problem. You too.
His step is lighter the rest of the way home.
Their High Cut photoshoot is positively received. They’re booked for two more magazine shoots, as a pair, and it’s the most work Jinyoung’s ever had.
Chanshik wasn’t lying when he said he was a fast learner, Jinyoung thinks as he watches Chanshik’s solo Elle Girl shots from the sidelines. Chanshik’s already picked up the odd tips Jinyoung told him on the way to the shoot, just little things like tensing the jaw for a more defined jawline, or parting the lips slightly in profile shots, but he executes them with what looks like practised precision.
He’s good. Very good.
la primavera ; 봄
By April, the toll of travelling between cities every three days has left Chanshik worn out.
“I’ll probably have to move up to Seoul permanently,” Chanshik murmurs sadly as he stirs his iced mocha with a straw. "I'll have to transfer schools too. I’ll miss my parents."
“What a mama’s boy,” Jinyoung laughs, but it’s one fraction envy -- he’d long since moved out of his parents’ home in Chungcheong.
“Hyung, can you help me find a place?” he hears Chanshik say, and he blinks. The tip of Chanshik’s tongue is between his teeth, and his hands are clasped together again. Jinyoung groans.
“Chanshiiiiik. Stop it, don’t make that face, you look like a dog.”
“I can be a duck too, watch,” Chanshik sticks out his lips and quacks, and Jinyoung’s laughing more than he should be.
“Anyway, yeah, hyung, I need to find somewhere to live by next week and I have no idea where to start looking.”
Jinyoung thinks. When he’d decided to move out of the goshiwon to somewhere closer to the agency, perhaps a bit bigger, and to give himself a new start, Dongwoo had offered up his apartment in Gangnam. It was gathering dust, Jinyoung was told, because Dongwoo was always at his photography studio anyway, so he might as well help out a friend and earn some rent from it. The apartment's cosy, and Dongwoo drops by every so often with some soju and chicken and spends the night -- but recently he has his project to focus on so he hasn’t been coming around.
He looks at Chanshik, who blinks back at him with hopeful eyes, and Jinyoung purses his lips. Suddenly moving out and living alone is a big change. It'd also be better for Chanshik to be around a familiar face.
Jinyoung hesitates.
“Would you mind living with someone else?” he asks, and Chanshik frowns.
“Like, rooming? I’ve never roomed before...”
“No, no, you’d get your own room, I mean, it’d be small and I’d have to clean it up first--”
A smile spreads across Chanshik’s face, and Jinyoung realises what he’s said.
“Hyung,” Chanshik says, “do you have room at your place?”
Jinyoung scratches the back of his neck. “Well, yeah, there’s a spare room in the apartment I’m renting. It’s pretty close to the agency too, so I figured you might like it, but um,” Jinyoung backpedals, “only if you’re okay living with me--”
“Are you kidding, hyung? That’s the best I could ever ask for.”
“You’d have to help out with the rent though, Dongwoo won’t let you freeload,” Jinyoung warns, and Chanshik nods happily.
“Of course, oh man, I think I love you, hyung.” Chanshik beams, gets up from his chair and does a little dance, and Jinyoung can’t help but laugh.
“Oh? A hubae from your agency? What’s his name?”
“Gong Chanshik,” Jinyoung says, balancing the mobile between his right ear and shoulder as he towels his hair. “Is it alright if he stays here? He was asking if I could help him find a place to stay in Seoul, and you have a spare room, so.”
“It’s not like I’m using the apartment anyway.” Dongwoo chuckles over the phone. “Is this the same kid who did that High Cut photoshoot with you?”
“The ridiculous palm tree one? Yeah.”
“And Elle Girl?”
“Yeah, that too.” Jinyoung sighs. “What about it?”
“Nothing, nothing, I just kind of want to meet him in person now. Make sure he doesn’t touch any of that photography gear in the storeroom though.”
“Yeah yeah, but Dongwoo, you don’t even need to meet him, he acts just like a little kid,” Jinyoung mutters, and Dongwoo laughs.
“He seems interesting. And cute. You know, your type.”
Jinyoung drops the towel onto his bed and sighs. “Oh believe me, I know. He acts all shy and awkward in front of the staff, but then he goes and makes these stupid animal faces at me every time we’re at the café. I don’t know what to think.”
“Well maybe--”
Jinyoung’s phone vibrates against his ear, and he almost drops it in surprise.
“Just a moment,” he says to Dongwoo, and looks at the screen.
jinyoung hyung! the message reads, and Jinyoung chuckles, i hope you got home ok ^^ hehe
He quickly types something in reply, and presses the phone back to his ear.
“Sorry, Chanshik just texted me,” he explains. “Go on.”
“Aww. Anyway I was saying, maybe you should learn to be stupid too,” Dongwoo muses. “You know, instead of acting cool all the time. You don’t have to be perfect.”
Jinyoung scoffs. “No thanks, I’d rather not be photographed imitating rabbits or something. And I should sleep, I’ll tell him he can move in next week, is that okay?”
Dongwoo chuckles. “No problem. I’ll catch you later.”
It takes less than five minutes to unpack all of Chanshik’s belonging. He has only one small suitcase filled with clothes, two volumes of manhwa, and a laptop. Jinyoung eyes the contents of the suitcase warily.
“Are you sure that’s everything? Don’t you have other stuff?”
“They’re still being packed,” Chanshik answers, dumping the last of his socks into the drawer, and Jinyoung ‘ahh’s in response. “This is just what I need for this week. My mum said she’ll send the rest of my stuff over later.”
Jinyoung falls silent. He hasn’t contacted his parents ever since he moved out. I’m going up to Seoul, he’d announced rashly after his high school graduation, I’m going to become a model, and he’d left his parents’ wishes of becoming a doctor at the doorstep in exchange for a cramped room in a goshiwon and a deferred university enrolment. It had never really even been his dream, but it was a way he could find freedom, and really, how difficult could modelling be?
But it was, much more than he’d expected. It wasn’t just missing all the things he took for granted -- his mother’s cooking, a room bigger than a toilet cubicle -- it was juggling two part time jobs while looking for an agency that would accept him. He’d been told he was handsome, but that was in a small farming town. He’d underestimated how much competition he had.
“Your parents are very supportive,” he finally remarks.
Chanshik shrugs. “They want me to be happy.”
Jinyoung bounces onto the mattress. He’d vacuumed and dusted the room, and dragged a couple of old drawers and the spare mattress in, but it still seemed so bare. Jinyoung frowns.
“You’re going to need a desk, and a bookshelf...and an actual bed,” he says apologetically, but Chanshik shakes his head.
“Don’t worry about that, hyung, I’ll manage,” he says, and sits down next to Jinyoung. “Thank you so much for this.” He grins, and Jinyoung reaches over to ruffle his hair.
“When’s your next shoot?” Jinyoung asks, standing up. Chanshik purses his lips.
“Next Wednesday, I think. Beanpole’s spring and summer collection, and I have to go to the agency on Monday for a briefing and more training,” he says, pouting at the word training, and sprawls over the mattress. “Hyung, training’s so boring, how did you stand it? All they make us do is look at the camera over and over and over and tell us to place our hands a certain way and angle our head juuuuust right and it’s stuff they’ve already told us a thousand times,” he whines.
Jinyoung hides a smile and puts on a stern face, hands on his hips.
“Gong Chanshik, you have to listen during training. Didn’t you promise you’d work hard? They’re giving you valuable advice that you won’t get from just anywhere.” His face softens and he smiles. “Okay, it might be boring, but you have to bear with it.”
Chanshik pouts again, and rolls over. “I’d rather learn from you, hyung,” he mutters, “you’re much more interesting.”
Jinyoung feels a flush creeping up his face.
At that moment, he hears a familiar beeping, and Jinyoung sticks his head out from the room. Dongwoo’s at the entrance, two plastic bags in his hands.
“Hey,” Dongwoo says, smiling and taking off his shoes, and Jinyoung stares. He was not expecting Dongwoo. “I brought dinner. And drinks.”
“I thought you were busy with your project,” Jinyoung remarks, motioning for Chanshik to get up from the mattress. Dongwoo chuckles and places the bags onto the table in the living room.
“Oh, yeah, I’m still working on it, but I could use a break.”
Jinyoung grins. “It’s been at least two months since your last visit. I was getting lonely.”
“Three months, actually. Anyway, that’s not the point! We gotta welcome our new flatmate, right?” Dongwoo smiles. “Where is he?”
“Ah, hello...”
Chanshik appears from behind Jinyoung, fiddling with the bottom edge of his shirt. He bows to Dongwoo, and kind of edges back to stand half behind Jinyoung before Jinyoung takes Chanshik by the shoulders and pushes him up to Dongwoo.
“You don’t need to be so scared Chanshik, he doesn’t bite. This is Dongwoo, he’s the owner of this apartment and my sometimes flatmate,” Jinyoung introduces, and Chanshik smiles sheepishly. “And Dongwoo, this is--”
“I know, I know,” he says, laughing, “Gong Chanshik, hubae at your agency. Chanshik, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Hyung, what did you say?” Chanshik asks, alarmed, and Jinyoung glares at Dongwoo.
“Just that you were cute, and his type,” Dongwoo answers for him, and Chanshik blushes.
“I didn’t say that, I just said he made stupid animal faces,” Jinyoung protests, and Chanshik ducks his head. “Enough of that, let’s eat. Dongwoo, I hope this chicken isn’t fried like last time.”
“Honey-soy,” Dongwoo says, opening up the boxes, and Jinyoung makes a face. Soju and sugar -- there goes his carb intake for the week.
“Marginally better. I’ll get the shot glasses.”
Chanshik doesn’t handle his alcohol very well. Neither does Jinyoung, but he’s good at pretending.
“Jinyoung hyung,” Chanshik slurs, smile on his face, leaning against Jinyoung’s shoulder. All three of them are sitting on the rug, empty bottles and lids from the soju strewn around them. “Hyuuuung.”
He’s had maybe one bottle of soju, but Chanshik’s face is already heating up. He wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s neck, and Jinyoung pats his back gently.
“Hyuuung, you smell nice. Like chicken,” Chanshik adds, and his head promptly slides down into Jinyoung’s lap. Chanshik’s hands grab at his upper thigh, and Jinyoung winces, a reflexive action, and it’s more psychological than real, but Dongwoo’s sharp eyes catch it.
“It’s okay, none of us have anything tomorrow,” Jinyoung reassures Dongwoo, who’s looking concerned. “My next job’s on,” he pauses and thinks, “Sunday, and his is on Monday.”
“No, no, not that,” Dongwoo says softly, and rubs at his wrist. “It just...it reminded me of the first time you got really drunk and I had to carry you back to your goshiwon. Your,” Dongwoo runs his index finger over the top of his own thighs. The sentence hangs in the air.
Jinyoung’s smile freezes. His head’s swimming from the soju, but he knows where Dongwoo’s going with this.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up...but,” Dongwoo’s eyebrows furrow, “you...haven’t started again right?”
Jinyoung grits his teeth. “I stopped when I moved here, I told you. It’s only surface scarring now.”
"Sorry," Dongwoo says, looking down. "I was just worried. It looked kind of painful when…"
Dongwoo trails off, hesitating before he reaches over and touches Jinyoung's thigh. He barely grazes it, but even then Jinyoung has to fight not to flinch.
"When Chanshik did that." Dongwoo murmurs as he sits back, offering a sad smile. "I'm allowed to be worried for a friend, right?"
Chanshik rolls over in Jinyoung’s lap. There’s silence.
“Thank god I changed your jeans that night,” Dongwoo murmurs. “Otherwise I never would’ve found out.”
Jinyoung sighs. “Yeah. Yeah. No one was supposed to. I’m glad you did, though.”
“I hope you’re still using the scar cream I got for you,” Dongwoo continues gently. “Anyway. We should...I’ll go clean up, you take that one to bed,” he says, pointing at Chanshik. He stands up, empty soju bottles in his hands.
Jinyoung looks at the boy sleeping in his lap, and sighs. He looks so peaceful.
“Hey, Chanshik, get up,” he says, and pokes him in the arm. Chanshik groans, batting Jinyoung’s hand away, and Jinyoung huffs.
“Gong Chanshik, come on, bedroom’s only three metres away.”
Chanshik lifts his head and smiles stupidly. “Jinyoung hyung,” he mumbles, rolling off his lap and onto the floor. Jinyoung grabs him by the arm and pulls him up, and Chanshik stands unsteadily, arm around Jinyoung’s shoulders.
“To bed!” he sings, and Jinyoung snorts. He walks Chanshik to his new room, and lets him fall down onto the mattress.
“Sleep well,” Jinyoung says, clearing the hair out of Chanshik’s face. Chanshik opens his eyes, and grins.
“Hyung,” he whispers, and grabs Jinyoung’s collar, pulling Jinyoung towards his face. Jinyoung blinks.
“Yes?”
“Am I cute? Really?”
“Yes, you are,” Jinyoung says, prying Chanshik’s hands off, but he grabs Jinyoung’s collar a second time.
“But hyung, cute is for kids, and animals, you’re supposed to tell me that I’m handsome...”
“You’re handsome, Chanshik, you wouldn’t be a model if you weren’t,” Jinyoung mumbles tiredly, and pulls the covers over Chanshik. Chanshik grins in contentment. “Go to sleep.”
“Oh, and hyung?” Chanshik grabs Jinyoung’s wrist.
His voice is a bit deeper, and it’s lost its playful tone.
“Hm?”
“Don’t hurt yourself again.”
Chanshik doesn’t seem to remember anything the next morning. It’s probably for the better, Jinyoung decides, sipping his espresso as Dongwoo pushes a bowl of Haejangguk in front of Chanshik.
“My head really hurts,” Chanshik groans, burying his face into his arms. “I’m never drinking again.”
That’s a lie, because three weeks later, Chanshik stumbles into the apartment at two in the morning, reeking of barbeque and alcohol. Jinyoung’s lying on the rug in the living room, mobile phone next to his head.
“Where were you?” he asks, voice laced with irritation as he sits up. Chanshik kicks off his shoes and collapses onto the sofa.
“Modelling...class dinner,” he mumbles, and Jinyoung understands, but it doesn’t stop his irritation. He’d been to one of those before -- a year ago, with his modelling classmates -- and one drink had turned into two, into three, and Jinyoung had lost count by the end. It’s not easy being beautiful, one of the girls had bemoaned, and they’d toasted to their harsh reality.
“You should’ve told me you’d be late.”
“Sorry,” Chanshik mumbles, shifting on the sofa. “I was gonna text you.”
“I couldn’t even get through to you, why was your phone turned off?”
“My battery died. Hyuuuung, I’m sorry, why are you so angry? I’m back aren’t I?”
Jinyoung sighs and rubs at his temples. He is being irrational -- it’s not like Chanshik has an obligation towards him. Chanshik’s not a kid, Jinyoung tells himself. He can handle things on his own.
“Just...charge your phone next time so I can reach you, okay?” Jinyoung says, poking Chanshik’s side. He yelps with laughter and curls up.
“Aww, hyung, were you worried about me?” Chanshik beams, rolling over onto his stomach and cupping his face between his hands. He kicks his legs childishly. “I’m so touched.”
“Chanshiiiik,” Jinyoung groans, fighting a smile, and covers his face. He should’ve known Chanshik would pull out the aegyo.
“Were you worried? About me?” Chanshik repeats. He slides off the sofa and sidles up to Jinyoung, resting his head on Jinyoung’s stomach.
“Not at all,” Jinyoung murmurs, chuckling. Chanshik sits up, pouts, and whacks Jinyoung on the chest.
“Jinyoung hyung, you don’t care about me?” Chanshik suddenly swings a leg over Jinyoung, straddling him, and pushes him flat onto the rug. He draws closer, only an inch away from Jinyoung’s face. “You care, don’t you?”
Jinyoung’s heart thumps loudly in his chest. It’s because he’s surprised, he convinces himself, not for any other reason, but Chanshik’s lips are really close, and he can feel his warm breath on his cheek.
“Channie, what are you--”
“Do you like me, hyung?” Chanshik blurts out.
Jinyoung blanches. How does he answer this?
“Well, yes, otherwise I wouldn’t have offered to live with you,” he replies carefully, avoiding Chanshik’s eyes, and his line of vision trails to Chanshik’s adam’s apple. Chanshik frowns, and shifts his weight. He’s sitting directly on Jinyoung’s crotch now, and Jinyoung holds his breath as he gently tries to push Chanshik off.
“Not like that, hyung, like like like,” Chanshik says, looking at him earnestly. Jinyoung turns his head to the side.
“What, why,” he splutters, avoiding an answer. Chanshik’s right hand travels to Jinyoung’s cheek, fingers warm on his skin, and Jinyoung’s brought back to face him.
“Because I like like you, hyung,” Chanshik whispers, trembling slightly, and presses a kiss to Jinyoung’s lips.
Everything goes blank in Jinyoung’s mind -- oh my god, Chanshik’s kissing me -- then he comes to his senses.
Chanshik’s still half-sitting on him, and his lips are still pressed against Jinyoung’s, warm and tasting like soju and barbequed chicken. It dawns on him in horror that he’s been still for much too long, and he’s actually enjoying this.
No, he couldn’t, Chanshik’s just a hubae, he shouldn’t take advantage of Chanshik while he’s drunk--
Jinyoung grabs Chanshik roughly by the shoulders, and pushes him away.
Chanshik’s smile disappears.
“Why?” His lower lip trembles. Jinyoung gulps, heart thudding in his chest. His mouth is dry. He can’t deal with this, not now; he can’t handle intimacy like this, and there’s the problem that he actually cares for Chanshik, and he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship.
“You’re drunk, Channie, you won’t remember anything in the morning,” he murmurs, fishing for an excuse. There’s a flash of hurt in Chanshik’s eyes.
“But--”
Jinyoung sits up. Chanshik topples off him.
“You’ll regret it.”
“Oh,” Chanshik murmurs, standing up and stumbling backwards. “Oh, I see. You’re wrong, hyung, I won’t regret this, but you sound like you do, so.”
Jinyoung buries his face in his hands as he hears the door slam.
Jinyoung’s woken up by a loud thumping sound the next morning. He trudges out into the living room to find Chanshik at the table, head resting on the wood.
“Ow, my head,” Chanshik moans, rubbing at his temples. “I could use some of Dongwoo hyung’s Haejangguk right now. Hyung, did anything happen last night?”
Jinyoung freezes. Chanshik’s tone is casual, and it’s probably an innocent question, but Jinyoung’s heart thuds in his chest.
“No, nothing happened,” he lies. “Why?”
Chanshik smiles weakly. “I was just wondering. I guess it’s good I didn’t do anything stupid.”
Jinyoung just places an apple in front of Chanshik.
“Eat it. It’ll make you feel better.”
Part 2
Pairing: Jinyoung/Gongchan
Rating: R; Warning (highlight to see) SI, Eating Disorders.
Summary: Jinyoung’s a model. Chanshik’s new to the industry. There are no fairytales in the world of fashion.
Word count: ~11,000
A/N: Originally a pinchhit for the B1A4 Secret Santa, posted at #14 - For: scarredknees from your Secret Santa
le stagioni ; 계절
It could be a happy ending, but there are no fairytales in the world of fashion. One could be as fair as Snow White and fit into Cinderella’s glass slippers, but that still doesn’t guarantee a thing.
l’inverno ; 겨울
There are sprinkles of snow in Jinyoung’s hair when he steps into DCM's photography studio
one. Winter’s almost over, though snow’s still falling in Gangnam -- just odd swirls here and there, but it settles in and melts into his styled hair, and he gently tries to pick out the white flecks before it ruins his hairstyle.
“Good morning,” he greets, bowing, and the staff bow back to him. He’s here to take some headshots for the upcoming High Cut photoshoot he’s been cast for, and he’s already halfway to the clothing racks when he notices that there’s someone already standing on the white floor draping of the studio. A boy, no older than him, dressed in a black suit. Armani, Jinyoung recognises. Standard agency photoshoot uniform for newcomers.
“Ah, good morning,” the boy says quietly, bowing, and Jinyoung hesitantly bows back in acknowledgement. He checks the time, then the studio number, and finally looks at the photographer in puzzlement.
“I thought I was booked in for ten,” he says, and the photographer pulls a face.
“Yes, Jung Jinyoung right? You are, but...” he sighs and motions towards the boy in the middle of the room. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says apologetically, “he’s new, and management ordered we make a composition card for him so we can try squeeze him in for something next week.”
“That’s fine,” Jinyoung replies politely, and arranges his fringe. “When can I come on?”
“In about half an hour,” the photographer says. “Jieun can fix up your hair and makeup while you’re waiting.”
Jinyoung nods, and heads over to where the cases of makeup and brushes are laid out on a small table, and seats himself on the stool as Jieun starts powdering his face. He can see the shoot quite clearly from where he’s sitting, just behind the reflectors and display. His eyes wander to the boy.
His facial features are sharp. His eyes aren’t quite even; one is smaller than the other, but his gaze is still intense. His nose is prominent, and his hair’s styled in a windswept fashion, which frames his face well. The way he poses is still unpractised, and he makes awkward angles with his arms at times, but he has definite potential.
Jinyoung doesn’t realise he’s staring until Jieun sighs and tells him to close his eyes so she can touch up on his eyeliner.
Half an hour passes quickly. Jinyoung’s in the changeroom putting on a sweater when he hears an earnest “you’ve worked hard!” coming from the studio. He fixes his hair one last time, and steps out to almost walk into the new model. He’s about to sidestep and excuse himself when the boy rubs his neck sheepishly and holds out a hand.
“I’m Gong Chanshik,” he introduces. “Um, sorry for that, I didn’t know I was taking someone’s time, I’m new and--”
“It’s fine, we can’t do anything about management’s orders anyway,” Jinyoung cuts him off, taking his hand. “And I’m Jung Jinyoung.”
Jinyoung doesn’t normally find himself almost colliding with the same person twice in the same week, but when someone trips over, kind of screams, and grabs onto the tail of his coat in front of the photo studio he’s headed towards for High Cut, he recognises the face immediately.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Chanshik says, standing up and brushing the snow off his knees, as Jinyoung gapes at him. “I was trying to catch up to you, ah, I’m Gong Chanshik in case you don’t remember.”
Jinyoung looks at him, slightly out of breath, nose red from the cold, and laughs.
“I remember. From last week right?”
Chanshik nods and beams. “They told me I’d be pairing up with you for High Cut!”
Jinyoung regards him with surprise. It had taken him two months from his composition card shooting to even be considered for a magazine publication, and he had gotten next to no pay, but it’s been less than a week for Chanshik, and he’s already been booked for High Cut of all magazines. But then again, the world is fickle -- and fashion’s fickler.
“Well, congratulations on your first job,” Jinyoung says, pushing down his resentment and putting on a smile. “We should head in before we’re late.”
The concept is fruits. Jinyoung’s eyebrow twitches.
“We’ll have apples on set to match the refreshing spring vibe of these clothes,” the stylist explains, picking out a bright red and bright green shirt from the rack and handing them to the assistants who start tugging the clothes off Jinyoung and Chanshik. Jinyoung simply raises his eyebrows and stretches his arms out, but Chanshik looks kind of panicked at the flurry of hands going at his shirt buttons, pulling at his sleeves, and Jinyoung laughs to himself. He was like that once.
“Just stay still, they’ll dress us,” Jinyoung murmurs, amused, and Chanshik nods and clamps his mouth shut. He looks like he’s concentrating really hard not to squirm away from the assistants’ hands, but he lets out a small yelp when their fingers brush across his chest. Jinyoung snorts.
“I’m ticklish,” Chanshik pouts as they’re ushered out towards the set, and Jinyoung’s lips twitch into a smile.
“You’ll get used to it. Let’s go pose with the, uh, fruits...” he nods towards the middle of the room. There’s a big white table with a straw basket full of green and red apples on top. The assistant arranging the apples notices them and signals to the photography team.
“You know, apples are my favourite,” Chanshik says happily, and picks up a red and a green apple from the basket. He holds them up next to his face and grins. “Aren’t I pretty?”
Jinyoung doesn’t normally muck around with his coworkers on set -- strictly business -- but Chanshik’s smile is kind of infectious. He ends up scoffing and whacking Chanshik on the arm.
“Okay, okay, concentrate,” he whispers as the director starts shouting garbled instructions at them. Half the words go over his head, but he hears phrases like represent spring colours and the youth of boys and he’s pretty sure he gets the gist of it.
“Set one! And try to use the props,” the director yells, and nods at the photographer to start.
“What do I do?” Chanshik whispers between his teeth to Jinyoung as he holds the apples awkwardly, smiling nervously at the camera. Jinyoung groans.
“Just, do what you were doing before,” Jinyoung replies, picking out an apple from the basket. Chanshik looks at the apples in his hands, and then back to Jinyoung, and there’s a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He pushes the green apple to Jinyoung’s face.
“What--” Jinyoung splutters, caught by surprise, and grabs onto Chanshik’s wrist to regain his balance.
“Yes, good, Jinyoung, now you can pretend to wrestle with Chanshik, fight for the apple,” the director instructs, folding his arms, and Jinyoung shrugs his shoulders and grins as he makes for the apple in Chanshik’s other hand.
The photographer signals OK after ten minutes. They’re ushered back into the makeup room to touch on their makeup, then into the changeroom to change out of the green and red shirts into bright yellow and purple ones. When they’re out on the set again the apple basket’s been replaced with bananas and grapes -- and a miniature palm tree, for whatever reason.
“Oh my god,” Jinyoung mutters under his breath. “What. Bananas don’t even grow on palm trees.”
This concept is just a bit out of his comfort zone and slightly too fruity for him, but he glances over at Chanshik and there’s a confident smile spreading over his nervous expression. He recalls his first photoshoot, how eager he was to please and make sure that nothing was out of place.
“You’re doing great,” he mutters, and he’s not sure who he’s reassuring, but Chanshik’s smile grows a little wider.
Sometime during the second set, Chanshik picks up a banana and pretends to shoot Jinyoung, grinning cheekily. Jinyoung has an overwhelming temptation to throw grapes back at him, but that would be both mean and unprofessional.
“Good,” the director praises, “that’s the mood we’re after,” and so Jinyoung gives in and picks up a handful of grapes and holds them above Chanshik’s head, smile spreading on his face.
The High Cut photoshoot ends well. The director’s pleased -- he gives little approving 'hmm's and nods as the photographer runs through all the pictures, and he beams at both Jinyoung and Chanshik as they emerge from the changerooms, back in their own clothes.
“You’ve worked hard,” he says, and Jinyoung bows to him. “You’re free to go now; we’ll contact DCM after publication so you can put it on your portfolio.”
“Thank you, you've worked hard,” Jinyoung replies, and bows to all the staff. Chanshik quickly follows suit, then tails him as he walks out of the building.
The cold hits Jinyoung the moment he pushes open the door, and he curses, pulling his coat closer to himself. Chanshik’s still behind him, biting his lip nervously, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to leave before him.
“Good job today, you did well for your first photoshoot,” Jinyoung starts, extending his hand, “Good luck for your future shoots, too.”
Chanshik looks at the proffered hand. He hesitantly takes it, but when Jinyoung’s about to pull his hand away and leave, he feels Chanshik’s hand tightening around his.
“Um,” Chanshik says, and Jinyoung furrows his eyebrows.
“Is there something wrong?”
“Actually, I was wondering, are you free now? For a coffee or something? I mean, like,” Chanshik continues, gaze dropping to the floor. “Since I’m kind of new and all, I don’t really understand modelling and I have a few questions...”
Jinyoung thinks. He was going to go restock his fridge, and maybe do a bit of cleaning, but that could wait.
“Sure,” he says, and Chanshik grins. “I can spare some time.”
They end up in a little café on a side-street which serves a decent enough Americano by Jinyoung’s standards. Chanshik is sitting opposite him, slurping on an iced mocha, which Jinyoung glances at warily. That’s 300 calories.
“Didn’t the agency tell you to watch what you eat?”
Chanshik looks up, and licks his lips. “Oh, actually, that was kind of what I wanted to ask about.”
Jinyoung blinks. “What, diet tips?”
Chanshik laughs, and puts down his drink. “No, no, I meant the agency. DCM. Can you...explain what they actually do?”
Jinyoung frowns in confusion. “But weren’t you trained at DCM Academy? I mean, all models receive the same basic training...I did when I joined the agency.”
Chanshik purses his lips. “No...well, they said I’d start training next week, but what’s DCM Academy? I’ve never heard of that.”
“They put you on a job without training?” Jinyoung frowns. “And you’ve never been to the Academy?”
Chanshik nods. “Actually, I was scouted two weeks ago by some agent guy. He said I had the right looks or something, and I was curious.”
“So you never wanted to be a model?” Jinyoung’s shocked. Chanshik had seemed rather comfortable in that first photoshoot, and today, as well. He’d never have guessed.
Chanshik shakes his head, then shrugs. “Well, I don’t know. It sounded exciting, and it doesn’t hurt to try new things.”
Jinyoung blows a stream of air through his lips, and thinks back to when he joined the agency. If he counted correctly, he received at least six months of training before DCM decided they would post his headshot on their website and create a composition card for him. Two weeks was absurd.
“You don’t know how lucky you are,” he murmurs, “landing a High Cut photoshoot as a rookie. I know some people in the agency who would kill for that.”
Chanshik shifts nervously in his seat.
“I’m going to work hard though,” he says after a pause. “My mum always told me that I should see things I start through to the end. And I’m a fast learner. And I know I’m lacking a lot but...”
Jinyoung smiles slightly. “No, sorry, that was mean. It’s okay, you don’t have to justify yourself, if you’re in then you’re in.”
Chanshik grins, and finishes off his drink. He takes a breath, and presses his palms together in front of his face. Jinyoung raises an eyebrow at him.
“What’s--”
“Can you help me? With modelling?”
Jinyoung looks at the earnest face staring back at him, the slightly unsure smile, the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows, and he hesitates.
“Please?”
Jinyoung hardly has the knowledge or experience to teach anyone -- he hasn’t been in the industry for all that long -- but he feels really bad turning Chanshik away when he’s asked so nicely. He figures he knows enough to give a few tips to a beginner.
“I guess I could try,” he says, and Chanshik bursts into a happy round of applause.
Jinyoung’s phone beeps ten minutes after he’s left the café. It’s a text message -- from Chanshik.
thanks for today ^^ you can’t change your mind ok! oh and be careful of the cold ♥
Jinyoung rarely gets text messages: Dongwoo normally calls him, as do the people from DCM, and he’s not really on close terms with anyone else. Jinyoung feels a smile spreading on his lips. It’s a nice change.
No problem. You too.
His step is lighter the rest of the way home.
Their High Cut photoshoot is positively received. They’re booked for two more magazine shoots, as a pair, and it’s the most work Jinyoung’s ever had.
Chanshik wasn’t lying when he said he was a fast learner, Jinyoung thinks as he watches Chanshik’s solo Elle Girl shots from the sidelines. Chanshik’s already picked up the odd tips Jinyoung told him on the way to the shoot, just little things like tensing the jaw for a more defined jawline, or parting the lips slightly in profile shots, but he executes them with what looks like practised precision.
He’s good. Very good.
la primavera ; 봄
By April, the toll of travelling between cities every three days has left Chanshik worn out.
“I’ll probably have to move up to Seoul permanently,” Chanshik murmurs sadly as he stirs his iced mocha with a straw. "I'll have to transfer schools too. I’ll miss my parents."
“What a mama’s boy,” Jinyoung laughs, but it’s one fraction envy -- he’d long since moved out of his parents’ home in Chungcheong.
“Hyung, can you help me find a place?” he hears Chanshik say, and he blinks. The tip of Chanshik’s tongue is between his teeth, and his hands are clasped together again. Jinyoung groans.
“Chanshiiiiik. Stop it, don’t make that face, you look like a dog.”
“I can be a duck too, watch,” Chanshik sticks out his lips and quacks, and Jinyoung’s laughing more than he should be.
“Anyway, yeah, hyung, I need to find somewhere to live by next week and I have no idea where to start looking.”
Jinyoung thinks. When he’d decided to move out of the goshiwon to somewhere closer to the agency, perhaps a bit bigger, and to give himself a new start, Dongwoo had offered up his apartment in Gangnam. It was gathering dust, Jinyoung was told, because Dongwoo was always at his photography studio anyway, so he might as well help out a friend and earn some rent from it. The apartment's cosy, and Dongwoo drops by every so often with some soju and chicken and spends the night -- but recently he has his project to focus on so he hasn’t been coming around.
He looks at Chanshik, who blinks back at him with hopeful eyes, and Jinyoung purses his lips. Suddenly moving out and living alone is a big change. It'd also be better for Chanshik to be around a familiar face.
Jinyoung hesitates.
“Would you mind living with someone else?” he asks, and Chanshik frowns.
“Like, rooming? I’ve never roomed before...”
“No, no, you’d get your own room, I mean, it’d be small and I’d have to clean it up first--”
A smile spreads across Chanshik’s face, and Jinyoung realises what he’s said.
“Hyung,” Chanshik says, “do you have room at your place?”
Jinyoung scratches the back of his neck. “Well, yeah, there’s a spare room in the apartment I’m renting. It’s pretty close to the agency too, so I figured you might like it, but um,” Jinyoung backpedals, “only if you’re okay living with me--”
“Are you kidding, hyung? That’s the best I could ever ask for.”
“You’d have to help out with the rent though, Dongwoo won’t let you freeload,” Jinyoung warns, and Chanshik nods happily.
“Of course, oh man, I think I love you, hyung.” Chanshik beams, gets up from his chair and does a little dance, and Jinyoung can’t help but laugh.
“Oh? A hubae from your agency? What’s his name?”
“Gong Chanshik,” Jinyoung says, balancing the mobile between his right ear and shoulder as he towels his hair. “Is it alright if he stays here? He was asking if I could help him find a place to stay in Seoul, and you have a spare room, so.”
“It’s not like I’m using the apartment anyway.” Dongwoo chuckles over the phone. “Is this the same kid who did that High Cut photoshoot with you?”
“The ridiculous palm tree one? Yeah.”
“And Elle Girl?”
“Yeah, that too.” Jinyoung sighs. “What about it?”
“Nothing, nothing, I just kind of want to meet him in person now. Make sure he doesn’t touch any of that photography gear in the storeroom though.”
“Yeah yeah, but Dongwoo, you don’t even need to meet him, he acts just like a little kid,” Jinyoung mutters, and Dongwoo laughs.
“He seems interesting. And cute. You know, your type.”
Jinyoung drops the towel onto his bed and sighs. “Oh believe me, I know. He acts all shy and awkward in front of the staff, but then he goes and makes these stupid animal faces at me every time we’re at the café. I don’t know what to think.”
“Well maybe--”
Jinyoung’s phone vibrates against his ear, and he almost drops it in surprise.
“Just a moment,” he says to Dongwoo, and looks at the screen.
jinyoung hyung! the message reads, and Jinyoung chuckles, i hope you got home ok ^^ hehe
He quickly types something in reply, and presses the phone back to his ear.
“Sorry, Chanshik just texted me,” he explains. “Go on.”
“Aww. Anyway I was saying, maybe you should learn to be stupid too,” Dongwoo muses. “You know, instead of acting cool all the time. You don’t have to be perfect.”
Jinyoung scoffs. “No thanks, I’d rather not be photographed imitating rabbits or something. And I should sleep, I’ll tell him he can move in next week, is that okay?”
Dongwoo chuckles. “No problem. I’ll catch you later.”
It takes less than five minutes to unpack all of Chanshik’s belonging. He has only one small suitcase filled with clothes, two volumes of manhwa, and a laptop. Jinyoung eyes the contents of the suitcase warily.
“Are you sure that’s everything? Don’t you have other stuff?”
“They’re still being packed,” Chanshik answers, dumping the last of his socks into the drawer, and Jinyoung ‘ahh’s in response. “This is just what I need for this week. My mum said she’ll send the rest of my stuff over later.”
Jinyoung falls silent. He hasn’t contacted his parents ever since he moved out. I’m going up to Seoul, he’d announced rashly after his high school graduation, I’m going to become a model, and he’d left his parents’ wishes of becoming a doctor at the doorstep in exchange for a cramped room in a goshiwon and a deferred university enrolment. It had never really even been his dream, but it was a way he could find freedom, and really, how difficult could modelling be?
But it was, much more than he’d expected. It wasn’t just missing all the things he took for granted -- his mother’s cooking, a room bigger than a toilet cubicle -- it was juggling two part time jobs while looking for an agency that would accept him. He’d been told he was handsome, but that was in a small farming town. He’d underestimated how much competition he had.
“Your parents are very supportive,” he finally remarks.
Chanshik shrugs. “They want me to be happy.”
Jinyoung bounces onto the mattress. He’d vacuumed and dusted the room, and dragged a couple of old drawers and the spare mattress in, but it still seemed so bare. Jinyoung frowns.
“You’re going to need a desk, and a bookshelf...and an actual bed,” he says apologetically, but Chanshik shakes his head.
“Don’t worry about that, hyung, I’ll manage,” he says, and sits down next to Jinyoung. “Thank you so much for this.” He grins, and Jinyoung reaches over to ruffle his hair.
“When’s your next shoot?” Jinyoung asks, standing up. Chanshik purses his lips.
“Next Wednesday, I think. Beanpole’s spring and summer collection, and I have to go to the agency on Monday for a briefing and more training,” he says, pouting at the word training, and sprawls over the mattress. “Hyung, training’s so boring, how did you stand it? All they make us do is look at the camera over and over and over and tell us to place our hands a certain way and angle our head juuuuust right and it’s stuff they’ve already told us a thousand times,” he whines.
Jinyoung hides a smile and puts on a stern face, hands on his hips.
“Gong Chanshik, you have to listen during training. Didn’t you promise you’d work hard? They’re giving you valuable advice that you won’t get from just anywhere.” His face softens and he smiles. “Okay, it might be boring, but you have to bear with it.”
Chanshik pouts again, and rolls over. “I’d rather learn from you, hyung,” he mutters, “you’re much more interesting.”
Jinyoung feels a flush creeping up his face.
At that moment, he hears a familiar beeping, and Jinyoung sticks his head out from the room. Dongwoo’s at the entrance, two plastic bags in his hands.
“Hey,” Dongwoo says, smiling and taking off his shoes, and Jinyoung stares. He was not expecting Dongwoo. “I brought dinner. And drinks.”
“I thought you were busy with your project,” Jinyoung remarks, motioning for Chanshik to get up from the mattress. Dongwoo chuckles and places the bags onto the table in the living room.
“Oh, yeah, I’m still working on it, but I could use a break.”
Jinyoung grins. “It’s been at least two months since your last visit. I was getting lonely.”
“Three months, actually. Anyway, that’s not the point! We gotta welcome our new flatmate, right?” Dongwoo smiles. “Where is he?”
“Ah, hello...”
Chanshik appears from behind Jinyoung, fiddling with the bottom edge of his shirt. He bows to Dongwoo, and kind of edges back to stand half behind Jinyoung before Jinyoung takes Chanshik by the shoulders and pushes him up to Dongwoo.
“You don’t need to be so scared Chanshik, he doesn’t bite. This is Dongwoo, he’s the owner of this apartment and my sometimes flatmate,” Jinyoung introduces, and Chanshik smiles sheepishly. “And Dongwoo, this is--”
“I know, I know,” he says, laughing, “Gong Chanshik, hubae at your agency. Chanshik, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Hyung, what did you say?” Chanshik asks, alarmed, and Jinyoung glares at Dongwoo.
“Just that you were cute, and his type,” Dongwoo answers for him, and Chanshik blushes.
“I didn’t say that, I just said he made stupid animal faces,” Jinyoung protests, and Chanshik ducks his head. “Enough of that, let’s eat. Dongwoo, I hope this chicken isn’t fried like last time.”
“Honey-soy,” Dongwoo says, opening up the boxes, and Jinyoung makes a face. Soju and sugar -- there goes his carb intake for the week.
“Marginally better. I’ll get the shot glasses.”
Chanshik doesn’t handle his alcohol very well. Neither does Jinyoung, but he’s good at pretending.
“Jinyoung hyung,” Chanshik slurs, smile on his face, leaning against Jinyoung’s shoulder. All three of them are sitting on the rug, empty bottles and lids from the soju strewn around them. “Hyuuuung.”
He’s had maybe one bottle of soju, but Chanshik’s face is already heating up. He wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s neck, and Jinyoung pats his back gently.
“Hyuuung, you smell nice. Like chicken,” Chanshik adds, and his head promptly slides down into Jinyoung’s lap. Chanshik’s hands grab at his upper thigh, and Jinyoung winces, a reflexive action, and it’s more psychological than real, but Dongwoo’s sharp eyes catch it.
“It’s okay, none of us have anything tomorrow,” Jinyoung reassures Dongwoo, who’s looking concerned. “My next job’s on,” he pauses and thinks, “Sunday, and his is on Monday.”
“No, no, not that,” Dongwoo says softly, and rubs at his wrist. “It just...it reminded me of the first time you got really drunk and I had to carry you back to your goshiwon. Your,” Dongwoo runs his index finger over the top of his own thighs. The sentence hangs in the air.
Jinyoung’s smile freezes. His head’s swimming from the soju, but he knows where Dongwoo’s going with this.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up...but,” Dongwoo’s eyebrows furrow, “you...haven’t started again right?”
Jinyoung grits his teeth. “I stopped when I moved here, I told you. It’s only surface scarring now.”
"Sorry," Dongwoo says, looking down. "I was just worried. It looked kind of painful when…"
Dongwoo trails off, hesitating before he reaches over and touches Jinyoung's thigh. He barely grazes it, but even then Jinyoung has to fight not to flinch.
"When Chanshik did that." Dongwoo murmurs as he sits back, offering a sad smile. "I'm allowed to be worried for a friend, right?"
Chanshik rolls over in Jinyoung’s lap. There’s silence.
“Thank god I changed your jeans that night,” Dongwoo murmurs. “Otherwise I never would’ve found out.”
Jinyoung sighs. “Yeah. Yeah. No one was supposed to. I’m glad you did, though.”
“I hope you’re still using the scar cream I got for you,” Dongwoo continues gently. “Anyway. We should...I’ll go clean up, you take that one to bed,” he says, pointing at Chanshik. He stands up, empty soju bottles in his hands.
Jinyoung looks at the boy sleeping in his lap, and sighs. He looks so peaceful.
“Hey, Chanshik, get up,” he says, and pokes him in the arm. Chanshik groans, batting Jinyoung’s hand away, and Jinyoung huffs.
“Gong Chanshik, come on, bedroom’s only three metres away.”
Chanshik lifts his head and smiles stupidly. “Jinyoung hyung,” he mumbles, rolling off his lap and onto the floor. Jinyoung grabs him by the arm and pulls him up, and Chanshik stands unsteadily, arm around Jinyoung’s shoulders.
“To bed!” he sings, and Jinyoung snorts. He walks Chanshik to his new room, and lets him fall down onto the mattress.
“Sleep well,” Jinyoung says, clearing the hair out of Chanshik’s face. Chanshik opens his eyes, and grins.
“Hyung,” he whispers, and grabs Jinyoung’s collar, pulling Jinyoung towards his face. Jinyoung blinks.
“Yes?”
“Am I cute? Really?”
“Yes, you are,” Jinyoung says, prying Chanshik’s hands off, but he grabs Jinyoung’s collar a second time.
“But hyung, cute is for kids, and animals, you’re supposed to tell me that I’m handsome...”
“You’re handsome, Chanshik, you wouldn’t be a model if you weren’t,” Jinyoung mumbles tiredly, and pulls the covers over Chanshik. Chanshik grins in contentment. “Go to sleep.”
“Oh, and hyung?” Chanshik grabs Jinyoung’s wrist.
His voice is a bit deeper, and it’s lost its playful tone.
“Hm?”
“Don’t hurt yourself again.”
Chanshik doesn’t seem to remember anything the next morning. It’s probably for the better, Jinyoung decides, sipping his espresso as Dongwoo pushes a bowl of Haejangguk in front of Chanshik.
“My head really hurts,” Chanshik groans, burying his face into his arms. “I’m never drinking again.”
That’s a lie, because three weeks later, Chanshik stumbles into the apartment at two in the morning, reeking of barbeque and alcohol. Jinyoung’s lying on the rug in the living room, mobile phone next to his head.
“Where were you?” he asks, voice laced with irritation as he sits up. Chanshik kicks off his shoes and collapses onto the sofa.
“Modelling...class dinner,” he mumbles, and Jinyoung understands, but it doesn’t stop his irritation. He’d been to one of those before -- a year ago, with his modelling classmates -- and one drink had turned into two, into three, and Jinyoung had lost count by the end. It’s not easy being beautiful, one of the girls had bemoaned, and they’d toasted to their harsh reality.
“You should’ve told me you’d be late.”
“Sorry,” Chanshik mumbles, shifting on the sofa. “I was gonna text you.”
“I couldn’t even get through to you, why was your phone turned off?”
“My battery died. Hyuuuung, I’m sorry, why are you so angry? I’m back aren’t I?”
Jinyoung sighs and rubs at his temples. He is being irrational -- it’s not like Chanshik has an obligation towards him. Chanshik’s not a kid, Jinyoung tells himself. He can handle things on his own.
“Just...charge your phone next time so I can reach you, okay?” Jinyoung says, poking Chanshik’s side. He yelps with laughter and curls up.
“Aww, hyung, were you worried about me?” Chanshik beams, rolling over onto his stomach and cupping his face between his hands. He kicks his legs childishly. “I’m so touched.”
“Chanshiiiik,” Jinyoung groans, fighting a smile, and covers his face. He should’ve known Chanshik would pull out the aegyo.
“Were you worried? About me?” Chanshik repeats. He slides off the sofa and sidles up to Jinyoung, resting his head on Jinyoung’s stomach.
“Not at all,” Jinyoung murmurs, chuckling. Chanshik sits up, pouts, and whacks Jinyoung on the chest.
“Jinyoung hyung, you don’t care about me?” Chanshik suddenly swings a leg over Jinyoung, straddling him, and pushes him flat onto the rug. He draws closer, only an inch away from Jinyoung’s face. “You care, don’t you?”
Jinyoung’s heart thumps loudly in his chest. It’s because he’s surprised, he convinces himself, not for any other reason, but Chanshik’s lips are really close, and he can feel his warm breath on his cheek.
“Channie, what are you--”
“Do you like me, hyung?” Chanshik blurts out.
Jinyoung blanches. How does he answer this?
“Well, yes, otherwise I wouldn’t have offered to live with you,” he replies carefully, avoiding Chanshik’s eyes, and his line of vision trails to Chanshik’s adam’s apple. Chanshik frowns, and shifts his weight. He’s sitting directly on Jinyoung’s crotch now, and Jinyoung holds his breath as he gently tries to push Chanshik off.
“Not like that, hyung, like like like,” Chanshik says, looking at him earnestly. Jinyoung turns his head to the side.
“What, why,” he splutters, avoiding an answer. Chanshik’s right hand travels to Jinyoung’s cheek, fingers warm on his skin, and Jinyoung’s brought back to face him.
“Because I like like you, hyung,” Chanshik whispers, trembling slightly, and presses a kiss to Jinyoung’s lips.
Everything goes blank in Jinyoung’s mind -- oh my god, Chanshik’s kissing me -- then he comes to his senses.
Chanshik’s still half-sitting on him, and his lips are still pressed against Jinyoung’s, warm and tasting like soju and barbequed chicken. It dawns on him in horror that he’s been still for much too long, and he’s actually enjoying this.
No, he couldn’t, Chanshik’s just a hubae, he shouldn’t take advantage of Chanshik while he’s drunk--
Jinyoung grabs Chanshik roughly by the shoulders, and pushes him away.
Chanshik’s smile disappears.
“Why?” His lower lip trembles. Jinyoung gulps, heart thudding in his chest. His mouth is dry. He can’t deal with this, not now; he can’t handle intimacy like this, and there’s the problem that he actually cares for Chanshik, and he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship.
“You’re drunk, Channie, you won’t remember anything in the morning,” he murmurs, fishing for an excuse. There’s a flash of hurt in Chanshik’s eyes.
“But--”
Jinyoung sits up. Chanshik topples off him.
“You’ll regret it.”
“Oh,” Chanshik murmurs, standing up and stumbling backwards. “Oh, I see. You’re wrong, hyung, I won’t regret this, but you sound like you do, so.”
Jinyoung buries his face in his hands as he hears the door slam.
Jinyoung’s woken up by a loud thumping sound the next morning. He trudges out into the living room to find Chanshik at the table, head resting on the wood.
“Ow, my head,” Chanshik moans, rubbing at his temples. “I could use some of Dongwoo hyung’s Haejangguk right now. Hyung, did anything happen last night?”
Jinyoung freezes. Chanshik’s tone is casual, and it’s probably an innocent question, but Jinyoung’s heart thuds in his chest.
“No, nothing happened,” he lies. “Why?”
Chanshik smiles weakly. “I was just wondering. I guess it’s good I didn’t do anything stupid.”
Jinyoung just places an apple in front of Chanshik.
“Eat it. It’ll make you feel better.”
Part 2