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‘I look like a freak!’
Bin hurls the magazine across the room. It hits the wall, almost disintegrating on impact, a testimony to the power of his biceps and abs. Jinwoo looks up with repect. As the group’s leader, he’s had a fair share of frustrated moments and knows that smashing a stack of papers against the wall and ripping it in the process is much harder than one would think.
Without saying a word, he crosses the room and picks up the offending item, now torn and looking rather sad. He sets it quietly on the bed and pats the spot next to him.
‘Come here, Binnie.’
There is a knock on the door and Rocky sticks his head in, a silent question in his eyes. Jinwoo shakes his head and the boy gives a quick nod and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
Fuming and hardly noticing the interruption, Bin looks at the glossy cover, mocking him from the bed sheets. The front page is torn, slicing his body almost precisely in half.
Good.
The rage that is shaking his whole body is threatening now to become more tangible, to spill out in words, to hurt their leader who right now is watching him benignly, arm stretched to take his hand, to pull him onto the bed, to talk, to soothe.
The problem is, Bin doesn’t want to calm down. He doesn’t really know what he wants but calming down is not high on his agenda right now. Smashing random items and taking out his anger on something or somebody IS though, and he can see Jinwoo knows it.
His friend’s gaze turns from gentle to firm. It isn’t for nothing that Jinwoo is their leader.
‘Sit down.’
Sensing the command underneath the still smooth tone of Jinwoo’s voice, the autopilot of a band member listening to his leader kicks in.
He sinks into the crumpled mess of blankets on the bed. A sudden wave of exhaustion dampens his rage, almost extinguishing it completely. Now he is just tired – tired and teary and wants to lean into Jinwoo’s shoulder and cry.
So much effort and all for nothing.
He eyes the magazine and wishes he never agreed to the stupid interview in the first place.
He gives Jinwoo a sideway glance, ‘Sua sent me a message, asking if it was real or whether they just stuck my head onto someone else’s body. All her friends apparently think so.’
Jinwoo’s expression doesn’t change, ‘I like your sister but Sua should know when to keep her mouth shut.’
‘She is right though, isn’t she? I bet even you thought the same! Come on, tell me the truth!’
The challenge is out there in the open a he can see Jinwoo’s eyes shifting a little, his face guarded. ‘Well, at first it looked weird but after I had a better look I could see it was you. Just a little bit altered,’ he finishes with a slightly embarrassed shrug of his shoulders.
‘That’s the understatement of the month,’ Bin hisses and eyes the magazine furiously. He hates the photo. It is his body; as far as that goes, the picture is not a fake. But the shading is exaggerated to emphasise the muscle definition and his proportions have been altered slightly, the shoulders broadened, and there is something about his neck that doesn’t feel right but he can't even bring himself to look at it properly to analyse what exactly went wrong with that part of his anatomy.
The photos in the inner spread haven’t been fully spared either. One in particular infuriates him, although for a different reason than the one on the front cover. He wears more clothes in it, thank goodness, but his face looks almost beyond recognition.
Do I really look that bad that they needed to do this?
The thought of his body being judged inadequate and in need of editing scares him deeply.
He knows he is not as clever as Dongmin, or even MJ for that matter. Or maybe he is smart but all those years spent dancing and singing left him with very little time to study and now it shows. He finally took the university entrance exam this year, a decision which he had been putting off for a while, out of fear of failing first, later it felt like too much effort. He has forgotten almost everything he learned in high school. He has no idea whether he passed or not. If he failed, he has nothing, no plan B. He doubts he will ever try again; the workload on top of all schedules and his exercise regime was horrendous, so this will be his one and only try; if he didn’t pass, that’s it. Even if he passes the exam though, his results will unlikely be good enough to get him into the top three universities so he will have to make do with whatever college he can get in.
In moments like this Bin dreads to look at himself in the mirror.
What am I actually good at?
He is not a scholar; that much is painfully obvious. His baby voice will probably mean no main leads in serious dramas, ever. He might be a great dancer but Rocky is technically better than him, and always has been; he acknowledges that without any bitterness.
When all is said and done, his body is all he has.
All members have one thing that is theirs, partly down to what role they have been assigned by the agency but mainly what kind of niche they carved for themselves within Astro.
MJ is the resident clown with a beautiful voice, the eternal sunshine for them all when they feel down; Jinwoo remains forever the cool rapper and their leader, Dongmin is the visual and the brain of the group. Sanha is happy to be the cute maknae for now, although Bin can sense the boy getting impatient with the constant requests for aegyo. Rocky hides in the background, happy to be the observer for most of the time and only comes to life when dancing, his incredible skills indisputable, making him the dance king of Astro.
Bin decided early on that he would be the member with the best body. It was an easy decision. Working out comes easily to him, he doesn’t need to think too much about anything, he likes the flood of endorphins after a good session and the more he trains the easier things become. He loves performing on stage and the knowledge that he has a great body gives him a boost of confidence. It’s so easy to play sexy in front the audience when you know that hundred of fans are salivating over you, that they would give anything in the world to touch you, if only for a second.
Not that Bin wants to touch any of his fans; he is deeply grateful to all Arohas for all their love, he truly is, but he has already found the one and only person he wants to hold for the rest of his life. Nothing, no crowds of devoted fans, compares to the thrill of holding Dongmin in his arms.
Right now however, even Dongmin couldn’t lift his mood and Bin sinks into himself, wishing he could fall asleep and wake in two weeks time or so, when this embarrassment blows over.
Jinwoo wraps his arm around his shoulders, ‘It’s you on the cover, no matter what happened. It could have been someone else but they have chosen you. That’s a good thing. You are not the first victim of bad photo shopping but any exposure is better than none, I suppose. We just have to be pragmatic about it.’
The exhausted sobs come unsuspected, the bitterness pouring out of him despite his best effort to stop.
For years he had trained hard to achieve a perfect body one day; he is used to the discipline, the hard work, the exhaustion; when he slacks and has a break for couple of days, his body almost begs for it, but it was nothing compared to the regime he willingly imposed on himself during the last couple of months, particularly during the two weeks before the photo shoot. A gruelling exercise schedule combined with near-starvation almost cost him his sanity. All members were giving him a wide berth during the last couple of days, he was so on edge. Dongmin was generally viewed as a saint for being able to deal with him. Bin didn’t tell anyone that Dongmin was the anchor who kept him from having lost his mind completely.
But maybe Jinwoo knows that. The leader glances at his phone, gives him a reassuring pat on the back and gets up, ‘Have a rest, Binnie. Dongmin will be here any minute, he just texted me.’
Rather than the words themselves, it’s what remains unspoken is what causes his cheeks heat up. He doesn’t really mind though. All members know now he and Dongmin are together; they finally told them couple of months ago but all of them together decided to keep it low-key; their room arrangements therefore haven’t changed. It’s partly down to Dongmin’s hectic schedules; he feels bad about waking up the others when he gets home too late but the main reason is different – and they all quietly acknowledged it without much talk about it. If nothing changes, there is no need to explain anything to their manager or other staff members. The dorm is Astro’s home but people come and go, to pick them up for schedules, to drop off things, and Jinwoo was first to recognise that if Bin’s and Dongmin’s relationship was to be kept private, things should stay as they are. And so Dongmin still has a room to himself and Jinwoo rooms with Bin.
But Jinwoo is a wise leader. He turns a blind eye when more often than not he finds Bin’s bunk cold and empty in the morning and on the odd occasion he quietly swapped with Dongmin, with no fuss about it, a silent exchange of looks between the two of them before Jinwoo grabbed his phone and PJ’s and left to spend the night in Dongmin’s room.
The last week before the shoot was one of those times when Jinwoo didn’t see much of his own bed at night. When he offered a swap the first time round there were some giggles and lewd remarks from MJ but Dongmin didn’t even acknowledge them and Bin felt too weak and exhausted to care.
Later, with all lights out and the dorm quiet, he could have wept with gratitude, both towards Jinwoo and Dongmin, the first for his silent support that didn’t need any words, the latter for just being there and holding him in his arms silently until he fell into fitful sleep.
He needs Dongmin. He needs him like the air that he breathes.
‘Hey, baby.’ His boyfriend appears in the door. He is leaning against the doorframe, a slice of pizza in his hand, taking in the dried tears and the ripped magazine on the bed.
‘Hey.’
Dongmin sits down carefully, “You ok?’
Clearly news travel fast.
‘What do you think?’ The sudden desire to hurt is overwhelming. He is ashamed of it but can't help it at all; he needs someone else feel the same pain that is spreading in his chest right now. ‘Have you seen it?’
‘I have. Someone had it on the set tonight.’
‘I look so… fake,’ Bin buries his head in his hands, the humiliation twisting his stomach.
‘It’s not a fake. It’s you, just a little…’ Dongmin hesitates, looking for the right word.
‘Altered?’ Bin huffs sarcastically, repeating Jinwoo’s words.
‘Yeah, altered.’ There is a tiny hint of smile in Dongmin’s voice. ‘But I know it’s you, I can see it.’
‘But who else can, Min? Who else? Nobody will believe it’s me, not with me being shirtless on TV at the same time. People are not stupid, Min. All I did was completely wasted!’
Dongmin regards him calmly, his words measured, ‘That’s not true. You did it because you wanted to. You wanted a great body and you got it.’
‘Yeah, but what’s the point when nobody believes it’s genuine? When everyone makes fun of me?’
‘They will probably release a behind-the-scenes video and then everyone will see it was really you and your body. Don’t worry.’
‘But why did they have to photoshop me? Do I really look that bad?’
It is a rhetorical question; he is not expecting an answer and Dongmin is not supplying any, instead, he moves closer and hugs him quietly.
‘I know, Binnie.’ The soothing quality of Dongmin’s voice irritates him for some reason.
‘Do you? Do you really? You know how hard it was, the training, the diet?’ he pulls back, the anger in him swelling again.
‘I saw you, Binnie. I know it must have been hard.’ Dongmin’s eyes are soft but Bin turns away.
‘I fainted.’ He wants to shake Dongmin’s composure, he wants it really badly.
‘What? When?’ Suddenly Dongmin looks shocked to the core and it gives him a shot of satisfaction to see the panic in his eyes.
‘After the shoot. We were leaving when my legs just… gave. Manager Noh said I was out for couple of seconds, it wasn’t that bad.’ He tries to sound nonchalantly and almost succeeds.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It was nothing. I came to and they got me in the car and we drove straight home. It’s not a big deal. It was probably from not drinking on the day of the shoot. It’s supposed to help with water retention; if you sort of get rid of water, the muscle definition is better.’
‘Jesus Christ, Binnie, that’s just crazy! And why didn’t you tell me when you came back?’
‘You weren’t here, remember? You were shooting, as always.’ Another subtle dig but Dongmin doesn’t react.
‘Anyway, you would have been worried sick, I didn’t want that,’ he trails off, miserably.
‘I was worried sick! All those weeks when you were exercising like crazy and not eating at all, you think I wasn’t scared?’
The accusation lingers in the air but Bin doesn’t answer. There is nothing to say to that; he knows Dongmin was worried about him, it was visible in his every look, every gesture, in the way he held Bin in his arms every night, desperate, almost as if he was afraid to lose him.
Dongmin doesn’t move and keeps staring at the untouched slice of pizza in his hand. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘No.’ His huffy response is only partially caused by anger; after the dieting his stomach shrunk and since then he’s been struggling to eat enough.
‘You should at least try, ok?’ Dongmin scoots closer and holds out the pizza to him.
‘I said I fucking didn’t want to!’ His angry voice reverberates through the small room.
Finally, there is a shadow of hurt in Dongmin’s eyes and the stupid, instant relief that floods his system makes him feel ashamed of himself.
He ducks his head, ‘Sorry Min, I didn’t mean that. Give me the pizza.’
He doesn’t feel like eating but knows he has to try. For Dongmin, to stop him worrying about me. Every bite is turning into a stone in his stomach; he almost throws up but somehow manages to finish the slice. Dongmin is watching him silently, unease making his eyes darker.
‘Do you want more, Binnie?’
‘Jeez, no,’ he wipes beads of sweat from his forehead. ‘What about you, have you eaten something?’
‘No, it’s too late.’
‘What sort of stupid excuse is that? When did you last eat?’
Dongmin sighs resignedly. ‘You know what I mean. I don’t have enough time to go to the gym right now. If I start eating this late at night, the next clothes fitting will be a disaster, no trousers will fit me. I can hear the remarks already,’ Dongmin rolls his eyes and Bin watches him, sitting unhappily on the edge of bed.
For a moment he forgets his own misery. ‘Come on, face genius,’ he tries to keep his tone light, ‘don’t look at me like this, most of the people would kill for being able to swap bodies with you, even for one day.’
‘Really?’ He can hear the sarcasm in Dongmin’s voice. ‘Face, yeah, maybe, but not my body. Not in this industry.’
Bin opens his mouth to protest but decides against it. He can read between the lines. Dongmin might be strikingly beautiful, with a face that turns heads of strangers in the streets and legs that go on forever, but Bin knows Dongmin doesn’t really like his body.
I have a big butt, I have hips, my thighs are massive; nothing ever fits me.
Bin has given up convincing Dongmin that he loves him as he is, that he thinks his butt is hot; Dongmin might believe him but that doesn’t mean he likes himself any more because of that.
Bin wraps his arm around his boyfriend in silence. He knows how Dongmin struggles, how he always found it difficult to cope with dieting, with the never-ending criticism regarding his body, the constant camouflaging of his curves with millions of layers of clothing. He knows Dongmin tries, but no matter how hard the effort, the lean silhouette with slim, child-like hips and a nearly non-existent posterior, so desirable in a male idol, is an unattainable ideal for him. Even starved Dongmin had hips; Bin remembers it clearly from their trainee days and his mouth goes dry at the memory.
He walked in on him in the shower once; the image of it as clear as if it happened last week, not four years ago; him stopping in his tracks, the hand frozen on the handle and his eyes on Dongmin, before he was woken up from his daydream by Dongmin’s embarrassed huff, what you’re doing, stop staring at my dick and get out.
He found it hard to sleep that night, the beautiful curve of Dongmin’s hips, hipbones jutting out through the creamy skin, haunting him in the dark. He tossed and turned, grateful that, for once, his best friend didn’t suffer from his usual bout of insomnia and was sweetly oblivious to his agony.
He could barely look into Dongmin’s eyes the next day, to the point it made the other scared.
‘What’s wrong, Binnie? Is everything ok? You are not talking to me, have I done something?’
How could he talk to him, how could he tell the sweet, innocent, barely 18-year old Dongmin what happened? For a split of a second he entertained the idea of looking into his eyes with a smile and saying, everything is fine, honestly, I just jerked off to the mental image of my best friend’s hipbones last night but everything is absolutely fine.
It took him weeks to admit to himself that he couldn’t see Dongmin as his best friend anymore; he wanted more. It took him endless months to acknowledge he had to do something about it.
In the end Dongmin beat him to it; the shy, well-mannered, polite boy braved the unchartered waters of diving into love first. His confession was clumsy, panicked; it was beautiful. Their first kiss on the rooftop of their building was a single ray of sunlight in the last weeks pre-debut when all of them thought they wouldn’t survive.
He loves Dongmin. He loves his dorky laugh, his steely determination when working, the look on his face first thing in the morning, all dreamy and languid; his deep, velvety voice.
He loves his beautiful body. Everything Dongmin hates about himself Bin secretly loves but the feeling of inadequacy, instilled into them by the endless drill, criticism and nearly unattainable goals, is so deep seated that he doesn’t even try to cheer up Dongmin tonight; he is too miserable himself to muster enough willpower to try to convince his boyfriend again and again that he is beautiful, perfect as he is, from top to toe.
Instead he sinks against Dongmin’s shoulder as the memory of the conversation with Sua and the fear - do I really look that bad that I had to be photoshopped – twist his stomach unpleasantly.
’What’s wrong with us, Min? Why can't we be just happy with how we look?’
Dongmin shifts on the bed, turning to face him. ‘I don’t know, Binnie. But you are absolutely perfect the way you are, you know that?’ Dongmin smiles and his hands slide under Bin’s t-shirt, cool palms pressing into his chest.
He feels himself bristling with irritation when Dongmin pulls the t-shirt over his head and somehow it makes him infinitely sad. ‘I’m not in the mood, Min.’
How did we end up here? We have only been sleeping together for, what, nine months. What’s wrong with me?
‘I know. It’s fine, I don’t want anything.’ Dongmin’s quiet laugh is like velvet sliding over his naked skin; he can feel goose bumps creeping up his arms.
He pushes Bin down into the pillows, pressing butterfly kisses into his neck. ‘I love you. I love you, Binnie. You are such a beautiful person. You’re the best boyfriend I could ever wish for.’
The tears are starting to sting in his eyes.
Dongmin’s lips are on his chest, touching his heartbeat. ‘I love you, Binnie but I’m a shallow person; you know that, at the end of the day, I’m here just for your perfect, hot body.’ Even with his eyes closed, Bin can hear the soft laughter in Dongmin’s voice.
‘Look at the beauty, the perfection; it’s flawless, it’s mine and I wouldn’t change a single thing. I love every inch of it, every inch of you,’ Dongmin’s mouth is sliding lower, kissing his stomach and Bin can't take it any longer; with blurry eyes he reaches blindly for Dongmin and pulls him up. The exhaustion of the last weeks, today’s humiliation, the fear and insecurity that’s been plaguing him for so long, his love for this man who means everything to him, all the jumbled emotions pour out of him and he presses Dongmin against him as he sobs uncontrollably into his neck.
Sometimes tears are good.
Sometimes tears mean healing.
‘It’s ok, baby,’ Dongmin holds him close and lets Bin’s tears soak the white t-shirt he is wearing.
They say time heals all the wounds. Time and tears.
More and more tears are coming, flushing out the darkness that was threatening to flood his whole being.
Time tiptoes around them, as they lay in each other’s arms.
At some point there are no more tears.
‘Do you think I’ve overreacted?’ he buries his head in Dongmin’s chest. ‘God, I feel like an idiot now. I don’t usually explode like this. Poor Jinwoo, he bought the magazine with his own money, he wanted to surprise me.’
‘Well,’ Dongmin stares at the ceiling, cradling his shoulders, ‘maybe a bit but…’ he pauses.
‘You are turning into our leader, you know that? But take your time, baby.’ Bin’s sudden giggle is muffled by the fabric of Dongmin’s t-shirt.
‘Shut up,’ his boyfriend smacks him lightly on the head. ‘Leave Jinwoo alone. I simply think it was all too much, that’s all. If it had been me, I would have murdered somebody by now – so you did well. And it’s not like anyone else saw you losing it, it was just us. Remember me blubbering in front of the camera in Jakarta, for all the world to see? THAT was embarrassing – you’re ok.’
He exhales and feels his muscles relaxing, calm spreading over his body. Not his brain though, the nagging anxiety is omni-present, tugging at the fragile sense of balance that Dongmin has just about managed to restore.
‘Do you really think my body is ok?’
He knows how pathetic it sounds to ask such a question, to beg for praise, for validation, but can't help it. He did feel good about himself during the shoot, he could see the results of all the hard work he had put in – but everything got negated in an instant when people started making fun of him.
Dongmin lets out something between an exasperated sigh and an amused huff. In one swift motion he pins Bin underneath him and watches him so intently, Bin feels the first stir of desire in his belly, ‘Listen, Mr. Sexy. You are hot. H-O-T. You’re so beautiful, so perfect, I can barely stand it.’ Dongmin’s voice is light, he is smirking but there is a flash of something more in his eyes. ‘Do you know what I want to do right now?’
For the first time that day, he feels a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure, ‘Tell me.’
…………….
Afterwards, they snuggle underneath Bin’s blanket. Dongmin is pressing his toes against his calves and Bin shivers a little. ‘Jeez, your feet are freezing. Come here.’
He pulls him closer, tucking the blanket around them more tightly, ‘Better?’
‘Thanks.’ Dongmin is pressing into his side, face nestled in the crook of his neck.
They lay in silence for a while, a sense of floaty happiness permeating Bin’s whole body. He feels his eyes growing heavy. Dongmin next to him, however, starts tossing and turning, unable to settle.
‘You ok, babe?’
‘I'm starving.’ There is a hint of embarrassment in Dongmin’s voice as if he was ashamed of admitting to such a weakness as hunger and Bin’s heart breaks a little.
He runs his palm up and down Dongmin’s spine, ‘Shall I get you something from the kitchen?’
‘Nah, I shouldn’t,’ Dongmin sighs and kisses his shoulder. ‘I can have a bite of you instead.’
Bin giggles and pushes him off. ‘I’ll go and get something. I bet you haven’t eaten since lunch and it’s now half past one.’
‘Don’t,’ Dongmin grabs his arm as he is getting up. ‘I will stuff myself and then I’ll regret it tomorrow.’ His eyes have something broken in them and Bin’s heart contracts painfully.
This will never end. We will never be able to feel good about ourselves.
He prizes Dongmin’s hand off his arm but kisses his fingertips lightly, ‘MJ bought some oranges today. I will get those. An orange will not make your butt bigger.’
The look Dongmin gives him is so hopelessly grateful, it almost makes him cry.
Returning with the bounty, he sees MJ emerging in a cloud of steam from the shower.
He smiles at his band mate. No matter how bad a day, seeing MJ always makes him feel better. There has always been an easy-going lightness in their friendship, with a hint of mutual attraction running like an undercurrent through all their interactions. Bin sometimes ponders what would have happened if Dongmin never joined Astro.
Would I be together with someone else? He likes to think it would be MJ.
‘Hey, look who’s here, our resident hottie.’ MJ doesn’t make a secret of the fact he finds Bin attractive. It’s utterly disarming in its frankness and he never acts on it. Bin loves basking in the adoration though and today it feels especially touching.
‘Thanks hyung, only for you.’ He twirls in front of him and strikes a pose, grinning.
‘You ok, Binnie?’ The clown mask is dropped for a rare moment and MJ pierces him with a direct stare.
‘I was a bit pissed off but it’s ok now,’ he shrugs, trying his best to sound light.
MJ’s smile is kind, without the usual silliness. ‘It will blow off. Fans have a very short attention span, Binnie, there will be something else to obsess about in a week’s time. Go to bed and tell Dongmin to take good care of you tonight.’ A tiny wink leaves him in no doubt about what MJ meant.
Bin’s cheeks heat up.
He already did.
Back in the bedroom, Dongmin blinks at him sleepily from underneath the blanket. Bin slides back to bed and peels the first orange. The fresh, citrusy scent fills the room and Dongmin groans with pleasure as he bites into the first segment.
‘Oh, this is so good. Oh God.’
Bin pushes another piece between his lips and smiles. ‘You are turning me on when you eat like this.’
‘Shut up,’ Dongmin’s cheeks flush pink. ‘You have no idea. This is almost as good as sex.’
‘Great,’ Bin huffs in mock disgust. ‘I am being compared to an orange.’
Dongmin’s laugh is like treacle, smooth and sweet, and Bin can't resist and scoops him up in his arms. ‘I might be an orange, Min, but you taste like one.’
The citrus scent lingers around as they burrow deeper under the covers. Dongmin gives the last piece of orange to Bin and the sweet juicy taste in his mouth is the last thing he remembers before falling asleep, with Dongmin’s arms around him.
Life is good again.