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The cashier stares at the grainy photo on the ID card and then back up at them, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Yeonjun shoots him a beaming smile, although it’s effectiveness is somewhat diminished due to the mask covering the entire lower half of his face. Beside him, Soobin fidgets nervously, not helping their case in the least.
“Hyung, are you sure this is a good idea?” he whispers behind a hand, probably under the impression he’s being way more inconspicuous than he actually is. Yeonjun just elbows him in the side by way of response, the universal code for shut the hell up.
Finally, after what seems like ages, the cashier shrugs, sliding Yeonjun’s ID back across the counter. “Whatever, man.” he says, looking bored. “Seems legit.”
They rush out of the convenience store as soon as Yeonjun gets back his change, giggling and shoving each other, high off their success. The bottles in the plastic bag clink together when Yeonjun holds it up in triumph.
“What if we get caught?” says Soobin, even though his eyes are sparkling.
“Well, technically we’re not doing anything wrong.” Yeonjun reasons, as they start making their slow way back. “I’m legal. You’re sort of legal.”
“Manager-hyung won’t see it that way.” Soobin says darkly. Yeonjun doesn’t need to be told twice — it’s not hard to imagine the shit-storm they’d face if their managers ever discovered they’d gone out so late, let alone brought back alcohol to the dorms. But Yeonjun doesn’t want to think about that tonight.
“Yah, Soobin-ah.” Yeonjun stops in his tracks, dragging Soobin back by his coat. “Stop worrying, huh? It’s gonna be your birthday, in what, an hour? Try to enjoy it.”
Soobin sighs, but he doesn’t complain when Yeonjun loops their arms together, seamlessly falling into step. Like they’re a couple… or something, Yeonjun definitely does not think. The outside air is freezing and the streets, dimly lit. Only a fool would take a late night stroll in Seoul this time of the year, but Yeonjun figures that’s exactly what they are. Just a pair of fools.
“Anyways, what the hell was that back there? The dude definitely thought we were underage ‘cause of how suspect you were acting.”
“Me? Hyung, you’re the one with the baby face.”
Yeonjun scoffs, disbelieving. “Bold of you to say that when you’re out here with these dimples.” He pinches one of Soobin’s cheeks between a thumb and forefinger. “Dead giveaway.”
“Dermatologists do hate me.” Soobin allows. “Also ffffu — your hands are cold.”
“Warm them up, then.” Yeonjun says immediately. He’s half-joking of course, he doesn’t actually expect anything, but Soobin rolls his eyes and makes to unhook their elbows. Dammit. Yeonjun doesn’t have time to be disappointed, though, because then Soobin is taking Yeonjun’s hand in his and slipping them both into his coat pocket like the charismatic male lead in some kind of romantic drama. Yeonjun hadn’t even noticed when the plastic bag had changed hands.
It’s kind of smooth, actually. If this really were a drama, Yeonjun’s heart would skip a beat.
"Better?" Soobin says, and Yeonjun can hear the smile in his voice. "Not really." he singsongs, trying to keep his tone even. As it is, he feels like his cheeks are on fire, too warm for the December chill. He clears his throat, willing himself to calm down.
“Yeah so, uh, we’re not sharing any of this with the others, 'kay?”
“Mm.” Soobin agrees. “Beomgyu will make a fuss, though.”
“Serves him right for being born too late.” Yeonjun says, very aware of the way his palm slides against Soobin’s with every step they take. “Also, we gotta sober up before going live at 12.”
“Got it, got it.” Soobin laughs and Yeonjun has to look away before his face betrays too much, suddenly infinitely grateful for his mask.
The walk back to the building that houses their dorms seems a lot shorter than usual. Soobin is making quiet noises of relief but Yeonjun wants to stretch this moment out, make it last just a little longer. It’s ridiculous, how the temperature could be dipping into the negatives but Yeonjun would still rather stay outside, if it meant Soobin was with him.
“Hey, Soobinie, actually, why don't we drink it out here?” the words slip past his tongue without much thought. Soobin stares at him like he’s grown horns on his head.
“Hyung, it’s like, minus billion degrees.”
“Please?” he’s struck with an idea. “The sky’s pretty clear tonight… we could watch the stars.”
Yeonjun internally pats himself on the back when Soobin’s eyes light up. To the perplexity of everyone who knew him, Soobin’d recently developed a strange and confusing interest in stars and their alignment. He had a book and everything. Every time they went places — airports to recordings to award shows — he’d point at random constellations through the sunroof of their company car and proudly name them. He was only right about a third of the time (Yeonjun knows, he’d checked) but it was cute, nevertheless. And it would be enough to make Soobin stay.
It’s an underhanded trick, but Yeonjun convinces himself that his cause is worthy. He’d always been kind of selfish that way — it probably came from growing up an only child.
They end up on the steps outside the rear of the building, passing the bottle of soju back and forth as they talk about nothing and everything — about the awards they’d won earlier that night, the tteokbokki they’d had for dinner, how beer is an acquired taste. Soobin had taken one sip of it and gagged. People go crazy over this ? He’d said in astonishment as Yeonjun laughed into his shoulder.
“That’s Ursa Minor.” Soobin says, waving a hand at an indiscriminate point in the night sky. “And that! That’s Cassie— Cassie something, shit.”
“Cassiopeia?” How exactly Yeonjun knows this is a mystery even to him.
“That’s right!” Soobin beams.
Yeonjun feels pleasantly buzzed. He’s no longer cold, that’s for sure. It’s nice, just sitting out here with his back against the wall and his knee pressed against Soobin’s. He doesn’t think he’s tipsy yet, but the alcohol’s making his mind feel fuzzy and soft, loosening his inhibitions enough to not feel hyperaware of the fact that the other members could come downstairs to find them or that their manager could drop by at literally any moment.
He's making to reach for the bottle again when he catches sight of his hand.
“Fuck, Soobinie!”
Soobin barely lifts his head from where it’s resting against the doorframe. “Yeah?”
“We have an international emergency! Dial 119.” Soobin, bless his heart, dutifully fumbles with his phone for a couple of seconds before stopping to blink at Yeonjun. “Yeah, ‘course, but why?”
“One of my rings is missing!”
“Oh no!” Soobin says, sounding unreasonably dismayed. He grabs the hand Yeonjun is holding out. “This… this sucks.”
“I know.”
“Where,” Soobin’s forehead wrinkles as he tries to form coherent sentences through his alcohol-induced daze. Yeonjun wants to reach over and smooth it out with his fingers. “Where did you last leave it?”
“Dunno, I’ve been here with you the whole time. Wait, don’t tell me you stole it!”
Soobin dramatically clutches his heart. “Hyung, I can’t believe you would ach— accu— think I would do such a thing!”
“You steal my jumpers all the time!”
“S’cause hyung’s clothes are the most comfortable.” Soobin says, as if this is any excuse. Then his features sharpen, as if struck by a thought. “Hey, I know!” Yeonjun watches as he briefly rummages around in his coat pockets before pulling his hand out again in glee. He uncurls his fist to reveal the aforementioned ring — It must have fallen off earlier when Yeonjun's hand had been in the pocket.
"Aha! So you did steal it!"
"The only thing I steal is people's hearts." Soobin says solemnly. He's not, like, wrong, but Yeonjun snorts anyway, aiming a half-hearted kick at him for this corniness. It’s unwise, considering the angle, and he ends up toppling over sideways, right across Soobin’s thighs. Soobin makes an attempt to help him up but seems to be struggling with coordination himself, if the way he accidentally smacks his own face is anything to go by. They end up slumped against each other, giggling like idiots.
“Hey Yeonjun-hyung?” Soobin says, after a few moments of comfortable silence. ”Thanks for this.”
Yeonjun raises his head to say something — probably to tell Soobin to stop making the moment awkward with his sappiness, probably to confess every desperately intense emotion he’s ever felt over the past year when Soobin does so much as smile in his direction, who knows — only for the words to die in his throat when he notices their proximity.
Soobin’s face is startlingly close to his, dark hair falling over his eyes in a curtain. The freckles that Yeonjun had spent many a distracted moment daydreaming about were within counting distance.
Yeonjun's skin feels alive, buzzing with electricity and something else that has absolutely nothing to do with alcohol. He searches Soobin’s face for a second and wonders if he isn’t just imagining his own desire reflected back at him. There's warmth pooling somewhere right below his ribcage.
"Wow," Soobin says softly, suddenly sounding a lot more sober than Yeonjun thought he was. "What the hell, hyung, your eyes are full of stars."
Yeonjun swallows around the cotton in his mouth, but the heat rises, spreading all the way up to his throat. It would be so easy to just lean over and press his lips against Soobin’s. It would be so easy, but it would mean risking everything, potentially the end of their relationship as he knew it. Sober Yeonjun wouldn’t consider it for a second.
But Yeonjun isn’t sober right now. Without meaning to, his eyes flutter closed.
His phone dings in his pocket.
txt beomgyu: where are u guys??? >:((( vlive in 15 remember
Yeonjun taps out of the Line chat, the moment gone like mist in the morning.
"We better, uh, get back to the others now." He says, his heartbeat a deafening roar in his own ears. "Don't wanna miss your birthday." He looks everywhere but at Soobin as he scrambles to his feet, brushing imaginary dust off his clothes.
"Hyung, wait—"
There are excuses ready on the tip of Yeonjun's tongue — how he was just joking, how he must be drunker than he thought. But before he can voice any of them, Soobin is taking his hand in his for what feels like the dozenth time that night (but never enough).
"You forgot this." He says, and Yeonjun feels the momentary bite of cold metal as Soobin slides the ring onto his fourth finger. It's disgustingly romantic. Honestly, could anyone blame Yeonjun for falling as fast and hard as he had when this was the kind of shit he had to deal with.
"Come on hyung, we can't be late!" Soobin says as he jogs past him up the stairs.
Yeonjun exhales after what feels like a year. There are a million things running through his mind, but he supposes (dimly, in the part of his brain that still works) that they can wait until tomorrow.