Work Text:
“The three of you are going to become sports commentators alongside Changmin-ssi,” declares the director, who’s sitting at the head of the long table together with his assistant, whose polite smile seems to be plastered on her face in a manner bordering on creepy, at least from Changbin’s perspective.
“Wait,” says Eunkwang with a skeptical look. “Were we randomly picked, or do we have something in common I don’t know about?”
Changbin places one elbow on the armrest and hides his grin behind his hand. He hears Wooyoung choke on air beside him, which only makes it harder to contain his reaction.
It’s the director’s turn to smile. “How do I put this delicately… You were all chosen because of your ability to set and maintain a positive, energetic atmosphere with your naturally bright personalities.”
“In other words, we don’t know how to keep our mouths shut,” remarks Changbin.
Wooyoung and Eunkwang burst into laughter, and Changbin joins them almost immediately.
“Yes, well, that too,” says the director, chuckling. “Not to mention, we’ve noticed that Changbin-ssi and Wooyoung-ssi are really good friends, so it would be nice to show a bit more camaraderie in the midst of this ‘war’ you’re all in right now.”
“Well not right now,” corrects Wooyoung. “Kingdom’s a fantasy, and this is reality. Here and now, I’ll go to war for Changbinnie, not against him.”
Changbin fails to control his signature child-like giggle, which triggers another round of fits among everyone else in the small conference room. Wooyoung playfully whacks him on the arm twice.
“I can already tell it’s going to be chaotic,” comments Eunkwang, grinning from ear to ear. “Great! What should we do to prepare for it?”
“We’ll be providing you with a loose script on the day of filming,” explains the director. “We’re giving you the freedom to make commentaries however you’d like, but of course there are a few key statements you’d have to say so we can smoothly go from one part of the show to the next. Here are copies of the schedule as well as the descriptions of the sporting events and other details you may want to know beforehand.” He gestures for his assistant to hand each of them two pieces of paper stapled together. “As you can see, the first event will start at 8 AM and the call time for all the groups is an hour prior to that. However, we’d like you three and Changmin-ssi to come in two hours in advance so we can rehearse a little bit.”
“It’s like going to school all over again,” remarks Wooyoung, “but without surprise math quizzes.”
“I think you should give this one a 50-point math test when he arrives,” suggests Changbin, who only snickers when Wooyoung whines in protest and softly headbutts the very edge of his shoulder.
“I second the motion,” teases Eunkwang from the other side of the table and laughs the moment Wooyoung throws him a look of pure disbelief and betrayal. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, Wooyoung-ah.”
“I’m not,” admits Changbin with a straight face.
Wooyoung turns red and cries, “Ya!”
~
Sixteen minutes later, the five occupants leave the room after having said their goodbyes to one another. Wooyoung and Changbin bow and wave to a smiley Eunkwang until he’s out of sight, leaving the two younger idols in the hallway by themselves.
Changbin checks his phone and sees a message from his manager telling him to get to the van as soon as the meeting’s over. He’s supposed to send a short reply, but a hand covers his screen and pushes down on the phone so he’s forced to look at the owner of the body part, who’s none other than his ever-handsome friend with mischief sparkling in his eyes.
“I’m not sure if I want to hear whatever it is you’re going to tell me in the next three seconds,” says Changbin while glaring at the other.
“Let’s play hooky,” invites Wooyoung, practically vibrating in excitement.
Changbin raises an eyebrow to indicate his confusion. “O-on sports day?”
“No, now,” answers Wooyoung and clutches the back of Changbin’s shirt. “Let’s not go back to our dorms yet. Have dinner with me!”
For a fraction of an instant, Changbin’s convinced that the best thing to do is to turn Wooyoung down knowing there’s food along with the other Stray Kids members waiting for him in their apartment. However, it’s been a while since he’d spent time with this particular friend, especially since the competition their respective groups are participating in had started.
Every week has become a cycle of conceptualizing, planning, recording, practicing, getting pre-show heart attacks, filming the show, freaking out over the results, and recovering. There’s barely enough time for anything else given that in between those activities they also have to work out, attend fittings, and do more filming for extra footage. The few hours left over are then devoted to sleep and entertainment, sometimes V Live, which is a part of their job but feels more like an outlet, a form of stress relief.
Within the past month, Changbin has focused on nothing but the team and the fans. He figures it wouldn’t hurt to turn his attention to something else that’s just as important.
“So how do you propose we get out of here?” he asks. “There are people waiting for us outside.”
“The answer to that lies in your discography,” replies Wooyoung, his mouth curving up into a smirk.
“This isn’t the most ideal time for mind games, Wooyoung-ah.”
“The back door, you idiot,” says Wooyoung in a matter-of-fact tone. “Or rather, the other back door I noticed last week. We can avoid our managers if we go through there. Come.” Holding Changbin’s hand, he deliberately heads in the wrong direction to lead his friend to freedom.
The staff members they encounter greet them but don’t seem to find their presence anywhere near suspicious, so Changbin feels more at ease. Actually, he doesn’t know why his nerves are even in a frenzy—it’s unlike him to fret over breaking the rules and whatnot. He suddenly becomes aware of how the tension in his body has translated to sweat on his palms, but Wooyoung either doesn’t notice it or doesn’t mind it.
The second possibility makes Changbin feel fuzzy for reasons he can’t and won’t fathom.
“Ah!” goes Wooyoung, stopping in his tracks. “Our clothes are a bit…attention-grabbing, don’t you think?”
An idea pops in Changbin’s head. “Let’s take a quick detour.”
~
“Seo Changbin, you’re a genius!” declares Wooyoung for the second time, his words punctuated by laughter. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down, buddy.”
They’ve managed to get T-shirts, hoodies, cloth face masks, and caps with the help of one of the Stray Kids stylists still in the premises. Changbin had remembered that they stay behind after filming to gather the dancers’ outfits and tidy up the dressing room. The stylist had been a bit shocked to see them but had assisted them nonetheless, leaving them for a while and coming back with casual tops and accessories from BTOB’s stylists.
“Is this really okay, noona?” Wooyoung had asked upon seeing the clothes.
“Yeah, I’m friends with them anyway,” the stylist had answered, clearly amused by the entire situation. “But I’ll need them back in two hours max, got it?”
“We swear we won’t take long,” Changbin had said. “Thank you so much.”
“You have our eternal gratitude,” Wooyoung had added.
They’d folded and entrusted their previous clothes as collateral to the same stylist before resuming their journey. Now, they’re on a side street almost a block away from their original location and looking for a restaurant or café with as few people as possible.
“You knew?” asks Changbin. “So you planned for this to happen?”
“I saw the opportunity when I saw you in the meeting room,” says Wooyoung, not hiding how proud he is of himself. “But I’ve been wanting to ask you out on a friend date for, I dunno, two weeks? I didn’t think today would be my lucky day.” He bumps into Changbin and drapes an arm over his shoulders.
Changbin gets a whiff of Wooyoung’s perfume, which he guesses to be a mixture of cucumber and melon. “And here we go,” he says, lifting his hand so the other can see his phone notifying him of a call from his manager. “Why did we not tell anyone about this again?”
“Because I want you all to myself,” answers Wooyoung. Before his friend can react to the statement, he grabs the mobile, presses the green phone icon, and places the device against his right ear. “Hello, manager-nim! This is Jung Wooyoung of ATEEZ!”
“You’re not on a variety—”
“Yes, he’s with me at the moment, and I’m afraid we won’t be available in the next hour or so,” continues Wooyoung without batting an eyelash. “Don’t worry; I’ll take good care of him and return him to you in one piece. I assure you that this impromptu excursion will serve to boost his wellness and restore his soul so he can keep being the amazing producer that he is—ack!”
“I’ll send you a message once we’ve settled somewhere,” says Changbin into his retrieved phone. “No, none of them know. They can go ahead and eat without me. My kidnapper’s going to treat me to an expensive meal, including dessert.” Wooyoung chuckles at that. “Alright, thanks, hyungnim.” He hangs up and places the phone inside the front pocket of his hoodie. “Hasn’t your manager contacted you?”
“My mobile’s been buzzing nonstop, but it can wait.”
“I don’t know if you’re brave, arrogant, or both, though I’m assuming you’re both.”
“It takes one to know one.”
Changbin cackles. “You’re on fire today, Wooyoung-ah!”
“It’s because you’re here with me,” coos Wooyoung, stretching the last vowel and squeezing his friend sideways. “We should round up the gang once this show’s over. I love ATEEZ, I really do, and San is the Patroclus to my Achilles—”
“How in the world are you comparable with Achilles?” probes Changbin with a scowl. “Did you recently duel with someone to their death and dragged their corpse around using a chariot?”
“Apart from being drop-dead gorgeous and bisexual but leaning toward men, I’m prone to leg injuries.”
“…That’s a solid argument right there, bro. Color me impressed.”
“As I was saying, I love ATEEZ, and San is the Patroclus to my Achilles, the blade of my electric fan, the tub of my washing machine, the handle of my toilet plunger—”
“I take back what I said about being impressed because those have to be the most deranged analogies I’ve ever heard someone use for their partner.”
“I can’t function without him in my life is what I’m saying,” argues Wooyoung.
“Dude, there are a billion things out there you could’ve used to express that and you went for toilet plunger?” Changbin laughs so hard he almost falls backward, but Wooyoung keeps him steady while giggling with him. “You’re easily the worst boyfriend in the history of human relationships.”
“Is that right?” challenges Wooyoung. “Let’s hear your analogy for Yongbokie then.”
Changbin pauses to think. “Lee Yongbok is the oasis in my desert, the first blossom to awaken after an arduous stretch of winter, the—”
Wooyoung makes a repulsed face and clicks his tongue. “You stick to your clichés and mushiness, and I’ll stick to my originality and creativity,” he says.
“Ass.” Just then, Changbin spots a small pizzeria with exactly zero people inside. “How about this one?”
“Perfect,” chirps Wooyoung before walking ahead to open the glass door for Changbin. “After you, skin of my potato.”
Changbin pinches his friend’s side in retaliation as he passes by, earning him a yelp. “If you write me a poem or a love song at any point in your life, Jung Wooyoung, I’m calling the police and having you arrested faster than you can blink.”
“Ooh, handcuffs,” says Wooyoung in a gruff voice, following the other inside the restaurant. “Kinky.”
Although Changbin voluntarily ignores the remark, his face heats up against his will.
They take the square, four-seater table nearest the cashier and farthest from the window. Changbin opts for one of two chairs that would allow him to conceal his face, and Wooyoung grabs the other. Once they’ve looked through the menu and decided on the dishes they want, Changbin stands up to go to the counter, but Wooyoung tugs at the hem of his hoodie to make him sit back down.
“I asked you out, so I’m paying,” he says in a whisper and approaches the cashier.
To distract himself, Changbin opens KakaoTalk on his phone, and sure enough, the Stray Kids group chat is alive and filled with messages for him. A member has brought up the concept of “bros over hoes,” which has been invalidated by a different individual using the fact that Wooyoung also falls under the “bro” category. Another person has put in a casual request for iced Americano and cheesecake, followed by someone else with the same drink order but without the tart. Two people have sent a sticker each: a cheerleading bear and a bunny-like creature giving Changbin two thumbs up.
In their private chat, Felix has sent a photo of himself smiling and putting up a finger heart together with the message, ‘Have fun with Wooyoungie-hyung~! Say hi to him for me and tell him I miss him~!’
‘I will, babe!’ replies Changbin. ‘See you later~.’ He also sends the name of the restaurant to his manager via text.
“Hey, I ordered chicken,” informs Wooyoung as he slides back onto his chair. “My tummy told me pizza and pasta aren’t enough for sustenance. We’ll still share it, though, okay?”
“My spring flower says hello,” says Changbin, angling his phone to show Wooyoung Felix’s photo and message.
“Mother of all things holy, Yongbokie’s a stunner!” remarks Wooyoung without taking his eyes off the selfie. “You’re one lucky sonuvabitch, you know that?”
“Luck has nothing to do with it, but you’re a fortunate bastard, too—your partner’s the personification of sex appeal.”
“That reminds me: I have to tell that beautiful idiot where I am. Hold on.” For the first time since the start of their mini field trip, Wooyoung takes out his phone from the back pocket of his leather pants. He snickers at the notifications that have accumulated on the device before pressing on the screen several times to initiate a call. “San-ah, hey—whoa, whoa, I’m fine! I’m okay! I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I? Yes, I’m 100% safe and alive and in love with you.” He keeps his laugh silent upon seeing Changbin’s eyes turn to saucers because of his sappiness. “I’m about to eat pizza with Changbinnie, but I’ll return to the dorm right after this. Can you be the one to tell our manager and everyone else? It’ll take too long for me to do it and—hello, my dearest Hongjoong-hyung.”
Changbin watches in amusement as ATEEZ’s leader reprimands Wooyoung nonstop so the latter can’t interject in any way. The restaurant is quiet and the volume of Hongjoong’s voice is loud enough for Changbin to catch some of his words, which are crispy on the outside with irritation yet soft on the inside with concern. Wooyoung politely says “yes” to every point the older man makes until the scolding comes to an end and San returns to the call.
Their food arrives, so Changbin busies himself with the task of serving each of them with a big slice of potato and bacon pizza, some spaghetti, and two pieces of fried chicken. He removes his mask in preparation for eating but doesn’t touch his plate yet to wait for Wooyoung, who’s already wrapping up the conversation.
“No, we’re wearing different clothes,” says Wooyoung, his tone slightly brighter. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Alright, love you, too. Bye.” With that, he hangs up and heaves out a long sigh.
When Wooyoung doesn’t give any indication that he’s going to speak again soon, Changbin takes it upon himself to break the ice. “I know you don’t like cold pizza, darling,” he chimes in his sweetest voice.
Although his facial expression doesn’t change, Wooyoung pulls his mask off and leans forward so he can take a bite of his slice and chew for a bit before saying, “As much as I love ATEEZ and San, you and Yeonjunie plus Youngtaekie-hyung and Seungkwanie-hyung are incredibly important to me, so it’d be good if we could all spend more time together. Just the five of us. No one else.”
“That can be arranged,” says Changbin while twirling pasta around his fork. “I’ll ask for their schedules for the next three months, and you give me yours. We’re bound to have at least one free weekend in common.”
“Thanks, Changbin-ah.” Wooyoung has picked up a chunk of fried chicken with his chopsticks, but he pauses once it’s midway the plate and his face. “Don’t you feel…suffocated sometimes?”
Changbin swallows the food in his mouth and looks at his friend. “Suffocated by what?”
“Everything,” answers Wooyoung, his manner of speaking as somber as his features. “Everyone. Like, why can’t I bond with you out of the blue without any consequences? My days are already rigidly structured, and I’m not one to step out of line, so why do I still have to give up control of my personal relationships with people outside of ATEEZ? Those at least should be mine, right? I signed over the rest of me when I started training to become an idol, but it’s only fair for me to leave something for myself, correct?”
“Yes,” says Changbin, gently treading through the volatile waters of the other’s emotions, “so asserting yourself in order to do what you want isn’t wrong. But Wooyoung-ah, your manager and fellow members care about you a lot, which is why if you go missing when you’re supposed to be heading back to the dorm, naturally they’ll look for you. Wouldn’t you do the same if San suddenly went radio silent?”
“I would, but I wouldn’t talk his ear off,” scoffs Wooyoung and meets Changbin’s gaze. “You don’t do that to me. None of my friends do.”
“It’s probably because I don’t see you often enough,” chuckles Changbin in hopes of lightening the mood. “Ask our five youngest members about the countless times I’ve scolded them. It’s an act of love. I don’t want them to get into trouble, and I’m only looking out for their best interests.”
Wooyoung ponders on his friend’s words as he works on his chicken and pasta. After a couple of minutes, he mutters, “You can tell me I’m being selfish. C’mon, I can handle it.”
“You’re not,” says Changbin and reaches out to rub Wooyoung’s left earlobe between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re just exhausted. Get as much sleep as you can tonight. Personally, I don’t mind your being a grinch every now and then since, well, I’m the same, but that’s not you. You’re sweet and kind and crazy fun to be with, and if you take care of yourself, you won’t have to keep morphing into a miserable blob.” He takes back his hand so he can use it to pick up his pizza.
Fondness sweeps across Wooyoung’s face, and it’s most apparent in his eyes and his smile. “You always did know how to cheer me up, Binnie. But what about you? Are you okay?”
“Hmm? Is there any reason for me not to be?”
“The evaluation results…”
Changbin shrugs. “You win some, you lose some,” he says. “It’s not the end of the world. Besides, I know we poured everything into the performance, and it went exactly how we’d envisioned it, so I couldn’t be more satisfied and proud.”
“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” admits Wooyoung. “No doubt the editors will use footage of my reactions again, but I can’t help that my friend’s a rap god.”
“I think I was too absorbed in ATEEZ’s performance to react properly,” says Changbin, having some of his chicken. “I didn’t think I could like Rhythm Ta more than I already did, but you guys proved me wrong.”
“You know how after you watch an emotional film there’s this sort of weight that lingers in the air and it’s almost like you can touch it but of course you can’t? That’s how it was for me by the time the kid was hugging Channie-hyung.”
A line forms between Changbin’s eyebrows when he frowns at his friend and asks, “Who are you, and what have you done with my beloved Jung Wooyoung?”
Wooyoung gives him the same confused look. “What’re you going on about?”
“The Wooyoung I know isn’t capable of saying something that profound.”
The sudden jest has Wooyoung snorting and slapping Changbin’s upper arm. “You’re so bad! I was being sincere and you make fun of me? What kind of friend are you?”
“You’re not usually like that, though!” claims Changbin while laughing and trying to grab Wooyoung’s mildly abusive hand. “How do you expect me to believe that a person who equates his lover to a plumbing tool and a person who talks about the palpability of feelings are the same?”
“Meanie!” says Wooyoung, landing one last smack on the other’s body. “I can go deep anytime I want.”
“Oh, I have no qualms about that whatsoever. You’re a master in that department.”
“What do you—oh god.” Wooyoung buries his face in his hands upon recognizing the accidental sexual innuendo in his statement. “Changbin-ah, you’ll be the death of me.”
“Glad you brought that up ‘coz I’d be more than happy to rap at your funeral,” suggests Changbin. “Do you prefer Streetlight? Or maybe Cypher?”
Although Wooyoung opens his mouth to answer, it takes him a couple of seconds to say in a soft voice, “Am I allowed to choose the song you wrote for Yongbokie?”
At first, Changbin doesn’t understand what his friend’s talking about, but when he does, he silently asks all the deities for help because he’s pretty sure the warmth he feels in his entire face has manifested as a dusting of pink on his cheeks that Wooyoung can clearly see. He pretends to cough, reaches for his glass of water, and gulps down half of it in hopes of extinguishing the flames blazing inside him.
If it’s a sin to like you, sorry.
“My bad,” chuckles Wooyoung. “I shouldn’t have even considered that.” He then shoves pasta into his mouth and follows it up with enough pizza to render himself unable to speak.
Changbin wills himself to calm down and practice rationality. He’s being stupid, foolish, an award-winning example of a dumbass. With a bit of hesitation, he covers Wooyoung’s hand on the table with his. “It’s okay,” he says, grinning. “I’ll do it. I wouldn’t want you to haunt me in my sleep for turning down your request.”
Wooyoung beams and turns his hand over so he can wrap his fingers around Changbin’s. “Sweetheart, if I turn into a vengeful ghost, I’ll terrorize you even when you’re in the shower.”
Raising both eyebrows to look smug, Changbin remarks, “That’s fine. I’m sure you’ll be impressed with what you’ll see.”
The bellowing laughter that escapes Wooyoung reverberates in the tiny space and causes the cashier to make an almost inaudible sound of surprise that Changbin nonetheless hears. Due to the physical effort of expressing his mirth, Wooyoung melts on the spot, removing his cap before allowing the right side of his face to land on the back of Changbin’s hand, the one he hasn’t let go of. Once he has quieted down, he looks up at the other through his eyelashes and asks, “Do you know what I’ll sing at your funeral, Changbin-ah?”
Sorry for liking you so much.
Everything touched by time deteriorates. The destruction could be slow or quick, the viscous crawl of tar or the heart-pounding rush of a waterfall, but it’s inevitable, the only true unstoppable force.
Yet despite the tens of thousands of hours that Changbin has known Wooyoung, instead of fading due to familiarity, the latter’s colors have only grown more brilliant, more saturated. Perhaps in the infinite ocean of time there are pockets of perfection kept intact, and the two of them are in one right now, free from flaw and filled with nothing but appreciative love.
“If it’s not Inception from start to finish, with strong emphasis on the falsettos, I’m not going to accept it,” teases Changbin, his heart still thumping at an irregular pace.
His lips curved up in a smile, Wooyoung sings as though he’s chosen a lullaby, “F is for friends who do stuff together. U is for you and me. N is for anywhere and anytime at all down here in the deep blue sea.”
Changbin claims that moment as his turn to giggle uncontrollably. He has tears in his eyes by the time he’s able to speak properly. “I’m not sure what’s funnier: the fact that all this time you’ve had that English verse secretly memorized, or that you’ve somehow managed to find the single most appropriate time to sing it.”
“I’m a prodigy, I know.” Wooyoung straightens his posture and slackens his grip, allowing Changbin full use of his two hands.
Upon realizing that they’ve spent more time talking and messing around than eating, Changbin and Wooyoung agree to focus on their food for a while. They become fully aware of how famished they are, so they don’t even have to force themselves to keep eating. After a little over a third of an hour, empty plates are all they have to show for their meal. They then stand up, thank the cashier who’s also the server, and start their stroll back to the studio.
Once again, Wooyoung rests his arm on Changbin’s shoulders, but this time, Changbin matches the gesture by firmly holding the other’s waist. He listens to his friend hum the song he’d requested for his memorial service. Afterward, they make small talk, mostly about their partners, nice places to go to once the world has normalized, and the cute stray dogs they meet that don't bother to give them the time of day.
Sorry for making it obvious, although I tried not to show it.
“Thank you for indulging me today, Binnie,” says Wooyoung as they turn the corner to walk along the road where the filming site is located. “The competition and the draining routine and the pressure were starting to get to me, but I think I just needed a break, particularly with one of the greatest loves of my life.” He places a quick kiss on the apple of Changbin’s cheek.
“I should tell San to put you on a short leash,” remarks Changbin jokingly.
“What, I can’t show my friends some affection?” demands Wooyoung, turning his head in the other’s direction.
“Of course you can,” answers Changbin with a tickled grin.
“Don’t you love me?”
“I do.”
“Say it then.”
Changbin glares at Wooyoung. “I just did.”
“You did not,” insists Wooyoung. “Tell me you love me.”
“Actions speak louder than words.”
“Actions can suck it. Say you love me, Changbin-ah.”
Knowing how stubborn and tireless his companion can be when he’s in the right mood, Changbin gives up and goes, “I love you, my Wooyoungie.”
“I love you as well,” coos Wooyoung, smiling like an idiot. An endearing, captivating idiot. “Hey, send me a message once you get home, alright?”
“Look at you turning over a new leaf,” remarks Changbin proudly. “You better send me a message, too.”
Wooyoung releases him and clutches his own shirt as though he’s been stabbed in the chest. “When have I ever not? You wound me, bro.”
Changbin rolls his eyes as they enter through the same door they’d exited nearly two hours prior. The stylist is relieved at their arrival, and she’s quick to get the clothes they’ve borrowed and bring them to BTOB’s dressing room.
Wooyoung and Changbin head for the parking lot, where their managers are waiting for them. Before going their own ways, they give each other a tight embrace, with Wooyoung bending his knees slightly since he’s a good two inches taller.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” whispers Changbin before kissing the spot where Wooyoung’s jaw and ear meet, triggering the other’s laughter for the nth time that day.
“I’ll be gentler next time, babe,” teases Wooyoung the moment he pulls away and turns to jog toward his company’s van.
Changbin shakes his head, caught off guard, and approaches his manager, who for some reason is smiling when it would make more sense for him to be frowning because of everything that’s happened.
“I really like that Wooyoung kid,” says the manager, pulling the van’s door open for his charge. “You can always tell when someone’s a good person, and he meets all the criteria.”
“Yeah,” says Changbin, the flames within him pacified once more to give way to the smoldering embers he’s long learned to live with. “I really like him, too.”
I like you so much it hurts.