Chapter Text
Yeosang was not, it had to be said, a particularly successful soloist. Even now, three years into his career, he still occasionally wished that he had debuted in a group. Idol groups were all the rage now after all; maybe fortune might have smiled more kindly on him if he’d had other members to help cover up his weaknesses.
Unfortunately, his company had at some point decided that a pretty face was all that was needed for a successful career. One recorded mini album and one cheaply-filmed music video later, they had eagerly thrown Yeosang to the wolves. He had been quaking in his shiny silver boots for the entirety of his debut showcase, any confidence he might have had crushed beneath his terror, but he had certainly looked extremely pretty.
In some ways, it had worked for the company. Yeosang wasn’t a household name by any means, but he wasn’t a complete flop in the industry either. He had a small, dedicated fanbase, and he sometimes wondered how much of it had to do with his visuals. Either way, his comebacks made enough to cover production costs and even a bit of profit, which was all that really mattered.
What worked for the company, however, didn’t necessarily work for the artiste. Yeosang’s trainee debt might not have increased since his debut, but it didn’t change the fact that he was still millions of won in debt and would probably be working until he was sixty to pay it all off.
There was definitely some kind of twisted irony to the fact that the very first text he received on his first free day in at least five months was from his loan shark.
Unknown 10:07 AM
This is Mr. Jung. My son will be coming by your place this afternoon with a proposition. Please be sure to make yourself available.
Those three sentences alone made Yeosang feel distinctly ill. Said loan shark was a prominent member of society and an immensely wealthy businessman with ties to the underground; his illegal loans were probably an open secret in the country, and he certainly had no reason to be personally texting a nobody like Yeosang.
Besides, why would his son be paying Yeosang a visit? Maybe he had texted the wrong number, or maybe ‘son’ was some sort of code for an enforcer who would demand even more money on top of the monthly instalment that Yeosang was already paying.
Yeosang was a nervous wreck for the rest of the morning and spent at least half an hour listlessly stirring his noodles until he gave up on the idea of finishing lunch. Tossing his chopsticks into the trash, he dumped the wrapped-up remainder of his meal in the fridge and sank down onto the couch instead, turning his phone over and over in his hands.
Thankfully, his uninvited guest was kind enough to show up early in the afternoon rather than late.
Yeosang jumped up the moment his doorbell rang, the few mouthfuls of lunch he had managed to swallow roiling sickly in his stomach. He sucked in a fortifying breath before pulling the door open, and then blinked stupidly at the sight before him.
He had expected a hulking man ready to crush his face in at the first wrong look, or someone with a slimy smile and unwashed hair ready to talk circles around him. He had expected almost anything except the stranger standing on his doorstep, looking hardly older than Yeosang himself, with slicked-back blonde hair and a black suit jacket thrown over a leopard print shirt. The combination should have looked ridiculous, possibly even greasy, but somehow he carried it off in the same way idols managed to pull off even the silliest stage outfits.
“Kang Yeosang?” The young man raised his brows unsmilingly, and Yeosang felt a chill go down his spine. This guy definitely meant business.
“Yes,” he said stiffly, somehow managing not to squeak. He stepped back to let the stranger in, and only then did he notice the tall, slim man in a suit just a step behind. Despite the black sunglasses on his face, Yeosang could clearly feel the bodyguard staring into his soul. He was on the verge of fainting from fear when the man turned and took up a stiff stance in the corridor instead, probably deeming Yeosang to be so negligible a threat that there was no point in him entering the apartment.
He hastily shut the door with a quiet click, then turned to find that the loan shark’s son, if that was truly who he was, had already made himself quite at home on Yeosang’s couch. His jacket was slung over the armrest and Yeosang was treated to the unwanted sight of a rather large sliver of chest, considering the number of buttons on his shirt that were not serving their intended purpose. He felt vaguely nauseous once more, his palms damp with sweat as he tried not to think about what this man might want with him.
“Are you here to ask for more money?” His voice came out small and shaky, and for the first time he wished he had another chair in the living room so that he could take a seat instead of standing foolishly in the middle of nowhere.
The young man giggled at that, a sudden smile splitting his face as he shook his head. He suddenly looked open and friendly, almost like a fellow idol Yeosang might meet backstage at a music show, blonde hair and all. The smile was so utterly incongruous with what he had been expecting that he froze, unsure what to do or say. Loan sharks didn’t smile at their debtors, and they definitely didn’t giggle in an octave more commonly reserved for hand puppets than actual human beings.
“I’m not here for money,” the other scoffed, as if he couldn’t imagine anything mattering less. “Didn’t my dad tell you anything?”
When Yeosang hesitated, the man rolled his eyes and patted at the seat next to him. “Come and sit down. I don’t bite, I promise.” And then he flashed another smile, just as wide and oddly mischievous as before.
Yeosang settled as comfortably as he could manage on the adjacent seat, resisting the urge to perch on the edge in case he needed to make a sudden escape. Looking pleased, the other stuck his hand out in what struck Yeosang as an extremely un-Korean gesture, but he extended his hand for the handshake anyway.
“I’m Jung Wooyoung.” His eyes were bright as they fixed on Yeosang’s face, with enough intent to make him shift uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know what my dad told you, but basically I need your help with something, and if you’re okay with it my dad will forgive all your debt. Cool?”
Yeosang knew he hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words since Jung Wooyoung had darkened his doorstep, but once again he found himself gaping silently at the other. The amount he owed wasn’t small, not for Yeosang anyway, and he felt a conflicting surge of fear and hope at the thought of wiping that debt out in a single sweep.
“Okay,” he said slowly, dragging his gaze across Wooyoung’s form as surreptitiously as possible considering the man was sitting less than three feet away from him. Besides the leopard print shirt, which was admittedly slightly garish, Wooyoung didn’t look like someone who had particularly depraved habits, but Yeosang supposed that looking decent didn’t necessarily mean very much.
Despite Yeosang’s less-than-enthused response, Wooyoung brightened at the acknowledgment, shifting even closer as he began to speak. “So the thing is, I’m interested in someone,” he said, voice hushing as if there was anyone else around to overhear, “and they’re a huge fan of yours. Huge. The deal I’m proposing is this – for the next six months, you provide me with free merchandise, get me into your fansign events, concerts, whatever. Just get me anything you release or endorse that has your face on it.”
Yeosang could feel his brows inching higher with every passing second. Was Wooyoung really suggesting what he seemed to be suggesting?
“Are you seriously going to woo this girl with, well, me?” he asked flatly.
He almost missed the way Wooyoung’s gaze flickered for just a moment, before he slapped Yeosang’s shoulder in excitement and crowed, “Exactly! Then you end up debt-free and I get into a relationship. It’s a total win-win situation.”
Truthfully, Yeosang thought that it sounded too good to be true. “And your dad is okay with this?” he asked, baffled. “He’ll just…stop asking me for money?”
Wooyoung shrugged, leaning back with the very satisfied expression of a well-fed cat. “He is a hundred percent in support of my love life,” he said smugly. “If you agree, he’ll draw up an official contract for our deal and everything.”
Yeosang shook his head slowly, still reeling at the thought. “I mean, how can I say no?” he said, feeling a reluctant smile beginning to tug at the corner of his lips. “Like you said, no one’s losing out here.”
Wooyoung’s smile was so wide that his eyes were crinkled into slits, and Yeosang wondered how he could ever have found this man intimidating in the least. It probably had quite a lot to do with the fact that Wooyoung had quite literally dropped a miracle into his lap, but Yeosang was suddenly much more kindly disposed towards him, regardless of how shady his father was.
“Awesome, let’s exchange numbers and you can let me know whenever something new drops. I’ll get someone to come down and pick the stuff up,” Wooyoung said cheerfully. “For merch I’ll only need one of whatever it is, but for tickets two would be great so I can tag along, you know?” He looked so pathetically hopeful at the thought of winning his crush over that Yeosang almost felt sorry for him.
He had no idea what kind of person would be won over by some little rich boy flaunting his wealth and connections in their face, but he hoped for Wooyoung’s sake that they were nice. He seemed like exactly the kind of person to get robbed blind and crushed emotionally by the first gold digger he met.
“Sure, good luck with your love life, I guess,” he said, although Wooyoung didn’t seem to notice the dryness in his tone.
“Thanks! I hope it’ll go well,” he said brightly, handing Yeosang’s phone back to him. When Yeosang glanced down at it, he saw that Wooyoung had saved his own contact name as ‘Wooyoungie,’ with a random fox emoji to accompany it.
“I’ll text you about my schedule,” Yeosang promised solemnly.
He waited for Wooyoung to shrug his jacket back on before opening the front door, taking a startled step back at the way Wooyoung’s waiting bodyguard appeared before him in the blink of an eye. “Calm down, hyung,” Wooyoung said with a laugh, and no matter how open and friendly Wooyoung seemed, Yeosang was relieved to see the back of him anyway.
As a master of minding his own business, Yeosang was of the firm belief that it was best not to get too involved in other people’s romantic endeavours, and this held especially true when he owed money to that person’s father.
Wooyoung, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have gotten the memo.
Wooyoungie 🦊 10:02 AM
there’s literally nothing good to eat at my uni
i’m suffering!!
Doberman 12:49 PM
?
Did you text the wrong person?
Wooyoungie 🦊 12:57 pM
no??
unless you’re not kang yeosang??
Doberman 12:59 PM
I am…
Wooyoungie 🦊 12:59 PM
ok cool!
anw I hate food that isn’t home-cooked
life is so hard
Doberman 1:05 PM
Uh…yeah
Sorry to hear that
Not wanting to antagonise his lifeline, Yeosang sent a couple of replies that he deemed suitably polite and noncommittal, which turned out to be the worst thing he could have done, because Wooyoung promptly began texting him at what felt like every minute of every day, about seemingly every tiny occurrence in his life.
My groupmates are literally the worst!!! he would send, his vehemence somehow transmitting easily through his texts, or they played your song on the radio omg. Other times he would ask random questions about Yeosang that he never knew how to answer, like why did you borrow from my dad to pay your company back? That’s so weird lol. Fortunately, Wooyoung never seemed to mind Yeosang’s often severely delayed replies, or the fact that he simply straight-up ignored questions he didn’t want to answer.
If Yeosang hadn’t actually experienced Wooyoung’s magnetic cheeriness for himself, he would have believed that the person incessantly texting him day and night was some sort of recluse with no one else to talk to. It was all very strange and distracting.
Nevertheless, with a whole host of post-promotional events and performances to prepare for, Yeosang had very little time to ponder the enigma that was Jung Wooyoung.
Doberman 9:29 PM
25/4, 5/5, 8/5, 9/5, 21/5, 22/5, 28/5
Fansign dates
Go check when your crush is free and let me know
Wooyoungie 🦊 9:33 PM
omggggg
thanks you’re the best!!
…yuck crush sounds so embarrassing tho
Doberman 9:34 PM
Then what?
The object of your affection?
Wooyoungie 🦊 9:34 PM
nooooooo
maybe…my future boyfriend?
hehehehe
Boyfriend. Yeosang hesitated, fingers pausing in surprise at the unexpected admission. Was he supposed to acknowledge it or just reply as if nothing had happened? He blinked and looked away from his phone, lost in thought with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and by the time he looked back there were new messages lighting up his screen.
Wooyoungie 🦊 9:36 PM
hey uh
sorry did I make it weird?
bc I like guys?
Doberman 9:37 PM
No I was just surprised
I said girl last time and you didn’t correct me
Idc who you like
Wooyoungie 🦊 9:39 PM
yay ok that’s a relief!!
you’re a nice person kang yeosang
his name is san and he’s my classmate and the cutest person in the entire world and you’re gonna meet him at the fansign anw sooooo
glad that’s out there!
Doberman 9:45 PM
Cool, can’t wait
The simple act of reading Wooyoung’s excited messages left Yeosang feeling breathlessly exhausted, and he let out a long sigh. He didn’t dislike the guy or anything like that, but the next six months really couldn’t pass fast enough.