[oneshot] i learn by going where i have to go
Title: i learn by going where i have to go
Pairing: lee jongsuk/kim woobin
Rating: pg13
Genre: slice-of-life, mild romance
Warnings: swearing
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: yeaaaa buddy, you knew this was gonna happen sooner or later. sorry it's so terrible!! the timeline is probably super fucked up because i played it fast and loose, but hopefully things are kind of chronological. (fyi: woobin's real name is hyunjoong.) 2,859 words.
It takes Hyunjoong about an hour into his first day on set to remember that Jongsuk's a veritable Energizer bunny of weirdness.
Hyunjoong's got his fair share of off-the-wall friends, to be sure. The model circuit's peppered with strange (albeit ethereally beautiful) people, like Hyuksoo who locks himself in and spends hours on the PS3 when he's stressed, and Jonghyun who swears off coffee every couple of weeks only to come slinking back to caffeine dependency when work starts piling on again.
He's not sure how he'd forgotten about Jongsuk's specific brand of eccentricity, because it's hilariously overt. Maybe they just haven't seen each other in too long. Filming brings it all back, not least because he's the only one Hyunjoong really knows at the outset. Jongsuk does shit like run around taking selcas with everyone and asking them whether they like Heungsoo or Namsoon more, even when they're all exhausted from twelve continuous hours out in the cold. He seems somehow more amped up the further they get into the shooting day, flits from person to person with teases and sly grins and wide, animated gestures, like he hemorrhages self-control rather than energy when he's tired.
By the end of his first week, the others have started pawning Jongsuk off to him when they're too dead on their feet to deal with his shenanigans anymore. "You guys are chingus," Youngchoon points out, when they're in the lounge next to craft services. He pats Hyunjoong on the shoulder, a sort of half-pleading look on his face. "You knew him before. You can actually keep up with him when he's being ridiculous."
"Which is always," Seyoung adds drily. Her puffy anorak nearly swallows her whole as she sits down.
Hyunjoong laughs and puts up some token resistance, but he doesn't really mind. They're almost always acting opposite each other anyway, and Jongsuk keeps things interesting when they're shuffled to the side in between individual takes or just loitering in the lounge, waiting for Minhong-hyung to call them back out for the next scene. Jongsuk develops this habit of passing out in the middle of some long, involved story he's telling when his batteries finally do run too low, voice drifting off as his head droops down to rest heavy against Hyunjoong's shoulder. It's a lot cuter than it should be, and Hyunjoong invariably loses circulation in his arm-but it's comfortable and familiar and good. And it is, of course, what they also want for the characters. He doesn't have much of anything to complain about.
On their occasional days off from filming, they meet at the coffee shop close to the school and go over scenes together. "I'm still not used to calling you Woobin-sshi for the interviewers," Jongsuk remarks, jiggling his foot against the table. They've just begun trawling through episode eight and Jongsuk's already on his second latte.
"It took me a while to remember to respond to it on Vampire Idol," he says, and Jongsuk laughs, head cocked to the side, his nose scrunched up with it.
Absurdly, Hyunjoong feels a real sense of accomplishment bloom deep in his chest. It's not like it's especially hard to get Jongsuk to laugh.
He buries his face back in his script to get rid of it, eyes scanning the page they're on. "They really loved each other, don't you think?"
When he looks up again Jongsuk's studying him with an unimpressed expression.
"What?"
"The most important thing in Namsoon's life is you, idiot," Jongsuk says, the corners of his mouth turning up. "That's why I'm giving you away." He takes another sip of his coffee and wipes cream off his lip with a flick of his finger. "It isn't about whether I loved you or not. It's so far beyond that."
Hyunjoong raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Yeah," Jongsuk says. He leans forward, eyes clear, chin balanced on his hands. "You were my entire world. Family, best friend, soul mate-whatever you want to call it. You were everything."
Hyunjoong lets out a breath he hadn't known he was even holding.
"That's how it is on my end, anyway," he continues, voice lighter. He shrugs and makes a face. "I don't know how it is for you."
Hyunjoong snorts, fiddling with the edge of his script. "Come on, I've been playing Heungsoo as a jilted ex-lover since day one," he says casually, and grins when Jongsuk throws his head back and starts laughing again. When his chest goes tight this time, he doesn't question it.
In retrospect, it's probably the Vogue Girl shoot that does it. The cold's finally settled in fully by mid-December and they've been crying at each other for days, tears freezing on their faces, uniform blazers so stiff that Hyunjoong's surprised that they can get out of them without ice picks. It feels nice to be indoors and dressed in warm clothes, even if the camera's still flashing in their faces.
They're attached at the hip for what feels like the entire day, from make-up to hair to costuming to the actual sets. Jongsuk keeps up a steady stream of chatter about what everyone else has been doing and, later, the script for episode eleven. "Have you read it yet?" he asks, swaying in so close Hyunjoong can smell the jasmine extract in his cologne, can see the edge of dark brown to black from Jongsuk's iris to pupil. It feels like something's just lodged itself so thoroughly in Hyunjoong's throat that he can barely breathe. The feeling doesn't subside until Jongsuk finally moves a comfortable distance away again. "I think we're supposed to be making up."
"There's no crying in the screen directions this time," is all he can think to say, tongue coming out to wet the corner of his mouth.
"There aren't," Jongsuk agrees, lips curling up, "but it'll probably happen anyway."
Hyunjoong attempts to retain marginal seriousness whenever the interviewers and BTS people come by, but Jongsuk acts exactly the same whether he's on the record or off, still says things like Don't give them the answers your publicists prepared for you! and Yes, he's very rebellious even when the cameras are rolling. By the third time this happens, Hyunjoong's given up trying to stop himself from getting sucked into doing stupid peace signs or trying to teach Jongsuk how to dance without looking like an idiot.
It's frighteningly easy to slide into it and go along with whatever gag Jongsuk's thought up for the day. There's just something about the way Jongsuk looks at him when Hyunjoong's a willing participant, latching onto Jongsuk like a leech or playing up the aegyo to disastrous effect: eyes wide, a terrible pout pulling at his mouth.
"Your face is going to freeze like that if you aren't careful," Hyoyoung says in passing, on her way back to the make-up noonas so they can touch up her foundation. "It's good, though," she continues later in the classroom, when Jongsuk's filming an individual stairwell scene. She perches on the desk in front of his while the crew sets up around them. "You seem a lot more relaxed now than when you first came."
He considers this for a minute. "Was I not relaxed before?"
"That's not what I meant," she says. She runs a hand down her skirt to smooth the cloth out. "You were just so serious, you know? I mean-you're still serious, in a good way. Jongsuk just knows how to set everyone at ease. It's like-all he has to do is walk into the room and your shoulders don't feel as tense anymore." She laughs. "Sorry, that sounds stupid."
"No," he says, leaning back in his chair and squinting into the middle distance. "I think you're right on the money."
January brings rave reviews and critical approval and weather that's a little better than December's dire straits. Jongsuk walks in the morning after the KBS Drama Awards to a deluge of congratulations and a lot of facetious glad-handing. "You've made it," Youngchoon says, wiping an invisible tear off his cheek. "Don't forget us when you're famous, Namsoon."
Everyone still shares body heat beneath the thick parkas when they're filming outdoors, clumped together in groups of three and four and studying the monitors over Minhong-hyung's shoulder after each shot. Even Jongsuk's tired beyond belief. They do more outrageous dancing to keep their limbs from locking up in the cold, and Jongsuk still dozes off occasionally while standing, breath coming out in white plumes, his hands tucked in Hyunjoong's jacket pockets with the deluxe-sized hand warmers.
He doesn't seem aware of Hyunjoong's nascent infatuation. It's both a blessing and a curse. He thinks it's all part of the joke, which makes it easier for Hyunjoong to do or say whatever he wants without fear that Jongsuk will look at him funny. "Namsoon is Heungsoo's reason to live," he tells 10Asia, and Jongsuk sends him this shit-eating grin from over the interviewer's head and goes back to finagling chips from the huge bag in Jihoon's hands.
The thing is-Hyunjoong thinks too much, feels too much, gets attached too easily. He's never liked doing things by halves. Acting appeals because it's something he can throw himself into wholeheartedly, a role to live and breathe and flesh out, another entity that co-opts your headspace for weeks on end.
Compartmentalization is the difficult task, then. Jongsuk isn't Namsoon. Hyunjoong isn't Heungsoo. It's like he tripped and fell into this stupid crush just by virtue of proximity: life imitating art at its finest. Except Jongsuk is someone he's been friends with for years already, of course. Even if it is character bleed, he thinks-when he glances across the room and sees the familiar line of Jongsuk's body leaned back against the lockers, legs crossed delicately at the ankle, eyes crinkling at the corners as he meets Hyunjoong's gaze head-on-that it might not even matter.
The last week of filming sneaks up on all of them. It's only been two and a half months, but the idea of waking up in the morning and not having to be on set anymore feels somehow foreign. No more coffee at six AM, no more seeing each other's faces day in and day out, no more lunch and dinner with the same people every afternoon. New habits die hard, too.
They actually do shoot Daniel and Nara's scene last. Minhong calls it a wrap outside the lounge to excessively teary fanfare. "There's still the special," Dongsuk shouts, waving his socked hands around in the air, and it becomes the running mantra. Still the special, still the special, until they're finally there at the very end of January, sitting in a KBS studio with the central heating blasting straight in their faces, dressed up in their uniforms for the last time.
It takes all day, what with all the montages to screen and segments with their actual high school teachers and the bit where they have to pretend the stage is a catwalk. Cultwo brings the love line stuff up and there's a collective roar of approval from both the live audience and the people sitting behind them. Youngchoon nudges at their shoulders, crowing. Hyunjoong's throat clicks drily as he swallows.
"Be honest," Taekyun says at last, matter-of-fact. "You two are really dating, right?"
Jongsuk lets out this little huff of laughter and turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. Hyunjoong slides his hand off his own lap and palms Jongsuk's thigh with spontaneous ease, feels the muscle tighten imperceptibly beneath his fingertips before anyone else can react.
And they do react in spades: Nara makes a squeaky noise into her microphone and the audience screams and Youngchoon yells something incomprehensible into his ear. He can hear Changyub's loud cackling from five seats away. Jongsuk hangs his head and starts laughing in earnest when Hyunjoong can't keep his face straight anymore.
"You've learned well from the fanservice kings," Daniel says later, patting his back when they're filing off backstage to change out of their uniforms.
"Yeah," Hyunjoong says, and tries to pretend he means it.
There are far too many people crowded inside the restrooms next to the dressing areas. It's definitely some sort of fire hazard. Hyunjoong walks two levels down to find one with cooler air and less chatter, splashes water in his face and just closes his eyes for a minute. The only thing left on his schedule for tonight is the farewell party-if he just showed up for a bit and left early, maybe he could curl up in bed and sleep away the inexplicable feeling of dread curdling in his stomach-
The door bangs open. "Oh, I found you," comes Jongsuk's voice from the entrance. The hinges squeak shut as Hyunjoong's eyes fly open. Jongsuk's regarding him with an unreadable expression, eyes narrow.
"Hi," he says, blinking. "Does someone need me?" He looks down. "Uh, I'll return the uniform soon, I just needed to be alone for a second-"
"Can we talk?" Jongsuk interrupts, tugging at the string of his hoodie, and shit if that doesn't send a thrill of fear straight up Hyunjoong's spine.
"Sure," Hyunjoong says, and hopes the look on his face is put together enough to pass whatever test this is.
"Why did you-what-" He trips over his words and makes an exasperated noise in the back of his throat. "Did you-on purpose-fuck." He runs a hand through his hair, laughs.
"Take your time," Hyunjoong offers numbly.
"Do you like me?" Jongsuk asks, and the way he blurts it out makes it seem like he never in a million years thought something like this would happen, which just makes Hyunjoong feel even worse about it.
"Yeah, I do," he says, because it seems disingenuous to lie about it now that it's all laid out in the open. "But don't worry," he appends hastily, "I'm not going to do anything so you don't have to feel like you're obligated to-I can just quietly-"
"Wait, wait," Jongsuk says, putting his hands up. "Are you under the impression that this whole thing is unrequited?"
Hyunjoong gapes at him. "What?" Then: "It isn't?"
Jongsuk frowns. "I mean, have you even asked me how I've felt about it?"
"I thought-"
"You think too much," Jongsuk says with feeling-which is, of course, patently true. "You just assumed. There's not enough doing in this equation."
Hyunjoong pinches the bridge of his nose and waves his other hand in the air. "Can you blame me? It's always been difficult to tell when you're joking around and when you're actually being serious."
"This isn't a joke," Jongsuk says, folding his arms.
He exhales slowly. "Let me just-"
"Stop," Jongsuk cuts in. He takes two steps forward and falters on the third. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"Overthinking it." He licks his lips, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.
Hyunjoong tilts his head. "I'd really like to kiss you right now."
Jongsuk rocks forward on the balls of his feet, tucks his hands into his hoodie pockets. "Do it, then."
"We have a farewell party to get to," Hyunjoong reminds him.
"Would they ever start without us, though?"
"Do you really want to do this for the first time in a KBS bathroom?"
"Now you're just making up excuses," he says, vaguely annoyed.
"Maybe I'm a really bad kisser," Hyunjoong says, grinning, and Jongsuk rolls his eyes.
"Don't you think I should be the judge of that?"
"Alright," Hyunjoong says, and presses Jongsuk back against the linoleum countertop. He tastes faintly of lemon lip balm and smells of jasmine cologne again. Jongsuk's hands come around to splay over Hyunjoong's back, and he hooks an ankle over Hyunjoong's calf, as if he's the only thing keeping Jongsuk pinned upright. Hyunjoong cradles Jongsuk's neck, thumbs grazing over his jaw, and feels his mouth open wider. As with everything, Jongsuk kisses like it's a game he's playing to win, all tongue one moment and teeth scraping Hyunjoong's bottom lip the next. There's no chance to get used to anything before he's moving on to the next variation.
They come up for air a minute later and Jongsuk wheezes out a low laugh, rests his forehead against Hyunjoong's collarbone. "You're a liar," he says into the navy material of Hyunjoong's blazer. "You've been holding out on me."
"We could've been doing this all month if you'd made your intentions clearer from the beginning," Hyunjoong points out, rubbing absent-minded circles into his skin.
"I made my intentions plenty clear," Jongsuk mumbles indignantly, but he doesn't push the issue. His lips part with little resistance when Hyunjoong folds his mouth over his again.
They arrive at the party fashionably late, Jongsuk's t-shirt askew and a thick beanie mashed over Hyunjoong's hair. Seyoung and Hyoyoung send them matching looks of intense and knowing interest, and it's all terribly reminiscent of another fictional late arrival, but Hyunjoong doesn't particularly care. At this point, not thinking about these things so hard seems a much wiser route.
fin
A/N: I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT. (title from the waking, by theodore roethke.)
Pairing: lee jongsuk/kim woobin
Rating: pg13
Genre: slice-of-life, mild romance
Warnings: swearing
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: yeaaaa buddy, you knew this was gonna happen sooner or later. sorry it's so terrible!! the timeline is probably super fucked up because i played it fast and loose, but hopefully things are kind of chronological. (fyi: woobin's real name is hyunjoong.) 2,859 words.
It takes Hyunjoong about an hour into his first day on set to remember that Jongsuk's a veritable Energizer bunny of weirdness.
Hyunjoong's got his fair share of off-the-wall friends, to be sure. The model circuit's peppered with strange (albeit ethereally beautiful) people, like Hyuksoo who locks himself in and spends hours on the PS3 when he's stressed, and Jonghyun who swears off coffee every couple of weeks only to come slinking back to caffeine dependency when work starts piling on again.
He's not sure how he'd forgotten about Jongsuk's specific brand of eccentricity, because it's hilariously overt. Maybe they just haven't seen each other in too long. Filming brings it all back, not least because he's the only one Hyunjoong really knows at the outset. Jongsuk does shit like run around taking selcas with everyone and asking them whether they like Heungsoo or Namsoon more, even when they're all exhausted from twelve continuous hours out in the cold. He seems somehow more amped up the further they get into the shooting day, flits from person to person with teases and sly grins and wide, animated gestures, like he hemorrhages self-control rather than energy when he's tired.
By the end of his first week, the others have started pawning Jongsuk off to him when they're too dead on their feet to deal with his shenanigans anymore. "You guys are chingus," Youngchoon points out, when they're in the lounge next to craft services. He pats Hyunjoong on the shoulder, a sort of half-pleading look on his face. "You knew him before. You can actually keep up with him when he's being ridiculous."
"Which is always," Seyoung adds drily. Her puffy anorak nearly swallows her whole as she sits down.
Hyunjoong laughs and puts up some token resistance, but he doesn't really mind. They're almost always acting opposite each other anyway, and Jongsuk keeps things interesting when they're shuffled to the side in between individual takes or just loitering in the lounge, waiting for Minhong-hyung to call them back out for the next scene. Jongsuk develops this habit of passing out in the middle of some long, involved story he's telling when his batteries finally do run too low, voice drifting off as his head droops down to rest heavy against Hyunjoong's shoulder. It's a lot cuter than it should be, and Hyunjoong invariably loses circulation in his arm-but it's comfortable and familiar and good. And it is, of course, what they also want for the characters. He doesn't have much of anything to complain about.
On their occasional days off from filming, they meet at the coffee shop close to the school and go over scenes together. "I'm still not used to calling you Woobin-sshi for the interviewers," Jongsuk remarks, jiggling his foot against the table. They've just begun trawling through episode eight and Jongsuk's already on his second latte.
"It took me a while to remember to respond to it on Vampire Idol," he says, and Jongsuk laughs, head cocked to the side, his nose scrunched up with it.
Absurdly, Hyunjoong feels a real sense of accomplishment bloom deep in his chest. It's not like it's especially hard to get Jongsuk to laugh.
He buries his face back in his script to get rid of it, eyes scanning the page they're on. "They really loved each other, don't you think?"
When he looks up again Jongsuk's studying him with an unimpressed expression.
"What?"
"The most important thing in Namsoon's life is you, idiot," Jongsuk says, the corners of his mouth turning up. "That's why I'm giving you away." He takes another sip of his coffee and wipes cream off his lip with a flick of his finger. "It isn't about whether I loved you or not. It's so far beyond that."
Hyunjoong raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Yeah," Jongsuk says. He leans forward, eyes clear, chin balanced on his hands. "You were my entire world. Family, best friend, soul mate-whatever you want to call it. You were everything."
Hyunjoong lets out a breath he hadn't known he was even holding.
"That's how it is on my end, anyway," he continues, voice lighter. He shrugs and makes a face. "I don't know how it is for you."
Hyunjoong snorts, fiddling with the edge of his script. "Come on, I've been playing Heungsoo as a jilted ex-lover since day one," he says casually, and grins when Jongsuk throws his head back and starts laughing again. When his chest goes tight this time, he doesn't question it.
In retrospect, it's probably the Vogue Girl shoot that does it. The cold's finally settled in fully by mid-December and they've been crying at each other for days, tears freezing on their faces, uniform blazers so stiff that Hyunjoong's surprised that they can get out of them without ice picks. It feels nice to be indoors and dressed in warm clothes, even if the camera's still flashing in their faces.
They're attached at the hip for what feels like the entire day, from make-up to hair to costuming to the actual sets. Jongsuk keeps up a steady stream of chatter about what everyone else has been doing and, later, the script for episode eleven. "Have you read it yet?" he asks, swaying in so close Hyunjoong can smell the jasmine extract in his cologne, can see the edge of dark brown to black from Jongsuk's iris to pupil. It feels like something's just lodged itself so thoroughly in Hyunjoong's throat that he can barely breathe. The feeling doesn't subside until Jongsuk finally moves a comfortable distance away again. "I think we're supposed to be making up."
"There's no crying in the screen directions this time," is all he can think to say, tongue coming out to wet the corner of his mouth.
"There aren't," Jongsuk agrees, lips curling up, "but it'll probably happen anyway."
Hyunjoong attempts to retain marginal seriousness whenever the interviewers and BTS people come by, but Jongsuk acts exactly the same whether he's on the record or off, still says things like Don't give them the answers your publicists prepared for you! and Yes, he's very rebellious even when the cameras are rolling. By the third time this happens, Hyunjoong's given up trying to stop himself from getting sucked into doing stupid peace signs or trying to teach Jongsuk how to dance without looking like an idiot.
It's frighteningly easy to slide into it and go along with whatever gag Jongsuk's thought up for the day. There's just something about the way Jongsuk looks at him when Hyunjoong's a willing participant, latching onto Jongsuk like a leech or playing up the aegyo to disastrous effect: eyes wide, a terrible pout pulling at his mouth.
"Your face is going to freeze like that if you aren't careful," Hyoyoung says in passing, on her way back to the make-up noonas so they can touch up her foundation. "It's good, though," she continues later in the classroom, when Jongsuk's filming an individual stairwell scene. She perches on the desk in front of his while the crew sets up around them. "You seem a lot more relaxed now than when you first came."
He considers this for a minute. "Was I not relaxed before?"
"That's not what I meant," she says. She runs a hand down her skirt to smooth the cloth out. "You were just so serious, you know? I mean-you're still serious, in a good way. Jongsuk just knows how to set everyone at ease. It's like-all he has to do is walk into the room and your shoulders don't feel as tense anymore." She laughs. "Sorry, that sounds stupid."
"No," he says, leaning back in his chair and squinting into the middle distance. "I think you're right on the money."
January brings rave reviews and critical approval and weather that's a little better than December's dire straits. Jongsuk walks in the morning after the KBS Drama Awards to a deluge of congratulations and a lot of facetious glad-handing. "You've made it," Youngchoon says, wiping an invisible tear off his cheek. "Don't forget us when you're famous, Namsoon."
Everyone still shares body heat beneath the thick parkas when they're filming outdoors, clumped together in groups of three and four and studying the monitors over Minhong-hyung's shoulder after each shot. Even Jongsuk's tired beyond belief. They do more outrageous dancing to keep their limbs from locking up in the cold, and Jongsuk still dozes off occasionally while standing, breath coming out in white plumes, his hands tucked in Hyunjoong's jacket pockets with the deluxe-sized hand warmers.
He doesn't seem aware of Hyunjoong's nascent infatuation. It's both a blessing and a curse. He thinks it's all part of the joke, which makes it easier for Hyunjoong to do or say whatever he wants without fear that Jongsuk will look at him funny. "Namsoon is Heungsoo's reason to live," he tells 10Asia, and Jongsuk sends him this shit-eating grin from over the interviewer's head and goes back to finagling chips from the huge bag in Jihoon's hands.
The thing is-Hyunjoong thinks too much, feels too much, gets attached too easily. He's never liked doing things by halves. Acting appeals because it's something he can throw himself into wholeheartedly, a role to live and breathe and flesh out, another entity that co-opts your headspace for weeks on end.
Compartmentalization is the difficult task, then. Jongsuk isn't Namsoon. Hyunjoong isn't Heungsoo. It's like he tripped and fell into this stupid crush just by virtue of proximity: life imitating art at its finest. Except Jongsuk is someone he's been friends with for years already, of course. Even if it is character bleed, he thinks-when he glances across the room and sees the familiar line of Jongsuk's body leaned back against the lockers, legs crossed delicately at the ankle, eyes crinkling at the corners as he meets Hyunjoong's gaze head-on-that it might not even matter.
The last week of filming sneaks up on all of them. It's only been two and a half months, but the idea of waking up in the morning and not having to be on set anymore feels somehow foreign. No more coffee at six AM, no more seeing each other's faces day in and day out, no more lunch and dinner with the same people every afternoon. New habits die hard, too.
They actually do shoot Daniel and Nara's scene last. Minhong calls it a wrap outside the lounge to excessively teary fanfare. "There's still the special," Dongsuk shouts, waving his socked hands around in the air, and it becomes the running mantra. Still the special, still the special, until they're finally there at the very end of January, sitting in a KBS studio with the central heating blasting straight in their faces, dressed up in their uniforms for the last time.
It takes all day, what with all the montages to screen and segments with their actual high school teachers and the bit where they have to pretend the stage is a catwalk. Cultwo brings the love line stuff up and there's a collective roar of approval from both the live audience and the people sitting behind them. Youngchoon nudges at their shoulders, crowing. Hyunjoong's throat clicks drily as he swallows.
"Be honest," Taekyun says at last, matter-of-fact. "You two are really dating, right?"
Jongsuk lets out this little huff of laughter and turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. Hyunjoong slides his hand off his own lap and palms Jongsuk's thigh with spontaneous ease, feels the muscle tighten imperceptibly beneath his fingertips before anyone else can react.
And they do react in spades: Nara makes a squeaky noise into her microphone and the audience screams and Youngchoon yells something incomprehensible into his ear. He can hear Changyub's loud cackling from five seats away. Jongsuk hangs his head and starts laughing in earnest when Hyunjoong can't keep his face straight anymore.
"You've learned well from the fanservice kings," Daniel says later, patting his back when they're filing off backstage to change out of their uniforms.
"Yeah," Hyunjoong says, and tries to pretend he means it.
There are far too many people crowded inside the restrooms next to the dressing areas. It's definitely some sort of fire hazard. Hyunjoong walks two levels down to find one with cooler air and less chatter, splashes water in his face and just closes his eyes for a minute. The only thing left on his schedule for tonight is the farewell party-if he just showed up for a bit and left early, maybe he could curl up in bed and sleep away the inexplicable feeling of dread curdling in his stomach-
The door bangs open. "Oh, I found you," comes Jongsuk's voice from the entrance. The hinges squeak shut as Hyunjoong's eyes fly open. Jongsuk's regarding him with an unreadable expression, eyes narrow.
"Hi," he says, blinking. "Does someone need me?" He looks down. "Uh, I'll return the uniform soon, I just needed to be alone for a second-"
"Can we talk?" Jongsuk interrupts, tugging at the string of his hoodie, and shit if that doesn't send a thrill of fear straight up Hyunjoong's spine.
"Sure," Hyunjoong says, and hopes the look on his face is put together enough to pass whatever test this is.
"Why did you-what-" He trips over his words and makes an exasperated noise in the back of his throat. "Did you-on purpose-fuck." He runs a hand through his hair, laughs.
"Take your time," Hyunjoong offers numbly.
"Do you like me?" Jongsuk asks, and the way he blurts it out makes it seem like he never in a million years thought something like this would happen, which just makes Hyunjoong feel even worse about it.
"Yeah, I do," he says, because it seems disingenuous to lie about it now that it's all laid out in the open. "But don't worry," he appends hastily, "I'm not going to do anything so you don't have to feel like you're obligated to-I can just quietly-"
"Wait, wait," Jongsuk says, putting his hands up. "Are you under the impression that this whole thing is unrequited?"
Hyunjoong gapes at him. "What?" Then: "It isn't?"
Jongsuk frowns. "I mean, have you even asked me how I've felt about it?"
"I thought-"
"You think too much," Jongsuk says with feeling-which is, of course, patently true. "You just assumed. There's not enough doing in this equation."
Hyunjoong pinches the bridge of his nose and waves his other hand in the air. "Can you blame me? It's always been difficult to tell when you're joking around and when you're actually being serious."
"This isn't a joke," Jongsuk says, folding his arms.
He exhales slowly. "Let me just-"
"Stop," Jongsuk cuts in. He takes two steps forward and falters on the third. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"Overthinking it." He licks his lips, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.
Hyunjoong tilts his head. "I'd really like to kiss you right now."
Jongsuk rocks forward on the balls of his feet, tucks his hands into his hoodie pockets. "Do it, then."
"We have a farewell party to get to," Hyunjoong reminds him.
"Would they ever start without us, though?"
"Do you really want to do this for the first time in a KBS bathroom?"
"Now you're just making up excuses," he says, vaguely annoyed.
"Maybe I'm a really bad kisser," Hyunjoong says, grinning, and Jongsuk rolls his eyes.
"Don't you think I should be the judge of that?"
"Alright," Hyunjoong says, and presses Jongsuk back against the linoleum countertop. He tastes faintly of lemon lip balm and smells of jasmine cologne again. Jongsuk's hands come around to splay over Hyunjoong's back, and he hooks an ankle over Hyunjoong's calf, as if he's the only thing keeping Jongsuk pinned upright. Hyunjoong cradles Jongsuk's neck, thumbs grazing over his jaw, and feels his mouth open wider. As with everything, Jongsuk kisses like it's a game he's playing to win, all tongue one moment and teeth scraping Hyunjoong's bottom lip the next. There's no chance to get used to anything before he's moving on to the next variation.
They come up for air a minute later and Jongsuk wheezes out a low laugh, rests his forehead against Hyunjoong's collarbone. "You're a liar," he says into the navy material of Hyunjoong's blazer. "You've been holding out on me."
"We could've been doing this all month if you'd made your intentions clearer from the beginning," Hyunjoong points out, rubbing absent-minded circles into his skin.
"I made my intentions plenty clear," Jongsuk mumbles indignantly, but he doesn't push the issue. His lips part with little resistance when Hyunjoong folds his mouth over his again.
They arrive at the party fashionably late, Jongsuk's t-shirt askew and a thick beanie mashed over Hyunjoong's hair. Seyoung and Hyoyoung send them matching looks of intense and knowing interest, and it's all terribly reminiscent of another fictional late arrival, but Hyunjoong doesn't particularly care. At this point, not thinking about these things so hard seems a much wiser route.
fin
A/N: I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT. (title from the waking, by theodore roethke.)