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"What do you want, hyung?"
Startling, Sunoo looked up to Jungwon's expectant face. He dislodged an Airpod, the video on his phone freezing, pixels dotting the screen.
"For dinner. I'm team pizza, but Riki wants chicken. We're split 3 to 3," Jungwon said, gesturing to the other side of the practice room where Heeseung and Jake were engaged in what appeared to be an elaborate arm wrestle, the rest of the members spectators. They had an hour break before practice resumed for tomorrow's stage. It'll take a week before the exhaustion fully sets in, weighing on their achy muscles, tracking footprints on the shiny hardwood floor; a year was long enough to get the routine down pat.
But Sunoo also knew that was a problem meant for seven days later.
"Pizza?"
"Is that a question," Jungwon squawked, but Sunoo could see that he's pleased, smiling in that inward way he does when he thinks no one's looking. Although maybe the person not paying attention was Sunoo. Jungwon's gaze slid over, always unnecessarily sharp.
"What are you watching?"
Sunoo slapped his hand over his phone screen, grateful when Jake's whoop swallowed the sound of his palm hitting the floor. He fumbled for the power button, hoped it was subtle.
Anything to dispel Jungwon's well-intended curiosity.
"Just monitoring some old performances," he said. Perhaps two half-truths could make a whole, by way of technicality.
Jungwon nodded, left it at that. He turned to the rest of the room, calling out, "Okay, pizza it is!"
They weren't supposed to meet. Or rather, there was no reason for them to meet. Still, it could be considered fate, made possible by the universe's divination and Sunoo's disposition to losing rock paper scissors.
The hallway of their dressing room was a bit too packed for comfort, so Sunoo slipped past the rush of idols coming off stage, bowing quickly as he went. He favored the vending machine two floors above; there were mostly offices on that floor, leaving the corner with the machine empty, peaceful.
Well, usually. When he turned the corner, he saw the blinged out sneakers first, then the white nylon-clad legs, salon-touched face, a bottle of tea swinging in his free hand. Sunoo knew him, in the way you know people without ever talking to them.
"Hello," he greeted, bowing his head.
Intak stood abruptly, mirrored Sunoo.
Smiling, Sunoo paused in front of the machine, scanned the display. His back was to Intak. Actually, he was waiting to see if Intak would leave. But for some reason, Intak had resumed to sitting, scrolling through his phone.
Sunoo tried to mind his own business, he really did. Except after he swiped his card and punched in the buttons for Jay's request of corn silk tea, nothing happened. The machine didn't budge. He stared at it, betrayed, and jabbed in the display number another time. Nothing.
"Um, you might have to hit it a little."
Sunoo turned. Intak had risen again from the bench, hovered nearer.
"Here, let me," Intak said. Sunoo scooted out of the way, but not before he caught a whiff of Intak's cologne, bright and clean.
"This machine's a little funky." Intak grinned. His openness caught Sunoo off-guard.
"Oh, is it?"
"Mainly with the corn tea, for some reason." He shook the bottle in his hand, the same brand trapped behind the glass. "It takes a bit of finesse." With a delicate air, he gripped the side of the machine and tipped it forward, before yanking it back, rebounding. Then he tapped in the number. The bottle edged forward, then clunked down to the bottom.
"Here you go." Intak's finger brushed against his. The bottle was cool to the touch. Sunoo resisted the urge to press it against the sudden warmth of his cheeks.
"Anything else?" It was a banal question, made consequential by Sunoo's slipping restraint. Isn't it natural for everyone in this industry to be attractive? Sunoo had certainly thought he'd reached a state of immunity, HYBE Bermuda triangle and all. By intuition, he could feel the weight of Intak's stare, the blatant interest. And he could feel it too, the tickling in his chest, the opening of a chamber he thought he'd clamped shut.
"No, that's it, thank you," Sunoo said, smiling wide. Then he turned, speeding down four flights of stairs to the next open vending machine before his heart could stop to decipher what else there is to have.
Before, Sunoo didn't think wanting could be an issue. It had never been a complicated emotion for him. He did want he wanted, casted prying eyes as a hostage audience. To be unabashed was so simple, required little thought, all action.
But on camera, everything carried weight. An unintentional glance, when framed by a slant angle and the right lighting, could turn into anything. To be seen in the way you wanted, to be seen on your own terms, meant thinking ahead. Always with intention.
He thought he knew it then on I-Land, that miserable million-dollar box, how to package his desperation in a way that was palatable. Being cute was second nature to him. Whatever he lacked in the agility of his dance, the unstable lilt of a note, could be made up with a face of personality, a face of a protagonist.
He'd been so wrapped up in that vein that the debut snuck up on him. The cameras dragged differently, then. Sunoo couldn't put a finger on it, when exactly he started to tweak his smiles, learned to tone it down. He didn't hate it per se, nor did he feel oppressed in the way some people thought he was. Let it be known he wasn't bullied for being gay; he just adjusted.
But some nights, it followed him to the quiet of his bunk. It slipped under his sheets, sat at his feet in the darkness, listened the rise and fall of six other chests.
In the moonlight, you can mistake yourself for a stranger.
Which is all just a slightly fucked-up and roundabout way of saying: wanting scared him a little, now.
If he was any more inclined towards lying, Sunoo would say that the second time they met was a coincidence.
He won't—it'd be a pretty shit lie. Because the next time was just a week later, and he'd lost again, this time on purpose. It was ridiculous of him to assume Intak would be there, right by the vending machine on the fifth floor, but perhaps Intak had made the same gamble on the other side.
"Do you use this as your dressing room?"
If Intak was offended by the lack of greeting, he didn't show it. He laughed instead, gestured towards the vending machine.
"Are you getting another corn tea?"
Sunoo nodded, waving his card. "I lost again."
"Lost?"
"Rock paper scissors. Loser buys the rest of the group drinks, they get bored in the dressing room."
"Ah, I see," Intak said. After a beat, "you only bought one last time?"
Flushing and thanking God (makeup artist noona) for his thick foundation, Sunoo occupied himself with the machine. This time, he took a page from Intak's book, jerking the machine. Still, no use.
"Sorry to say it's an acquired skill." Intak looked smug and still, somehow, attractive.
"Can I get some help then?" Sunoo asked, stepping aside for Intak to crowd in. This time, another deliberate calculation, a few centimeters short of appropriate distance. Sunoo thought his eye makeup looked particularly good today.
"Of course."
Intak worked his magic. In a few minutes, Sunoo's arms were laden with drinks, and him, struggling to figure out what to say next. He planned so much, but not enough. The hallway rung quiet with their sudden awkwardness, two strangers in stage costumes, three feet away.
So really it's thankfulness that he felt when Intak asked, "Could I get your Katalk ID?"
Some fun facts about Sunoo that are better left off his profile:
- Even in winter, he ran hot like a furnace. When he lived at home, this meant that his sister would monopolize him as a personal space heater, digging her cold hands into the crooks of his elbows and ignoring his yelp.
- He tended to shy away from other people's touch. It's okay, though, when he reached out first.
- His crush on Jake during I-Land was real, just as it was completely delusional and poorly informed. He knew better now. Let's not go there.
- His first kiss had been in high school. The boy had been the student council president, his sunbae by a year. An hour after they pressed up against each other in the empty board room, he bought him ice cream and wished him the best of luck with the trainee thing.
And a general one, for the ghosts in the walls:
- HYBE boys are not good kissers. Most of them are straight, unfortunately.
"What are you doing out here?"
Sunoo turned as the balcony door slid open and Jungwon padded out, cocooned in his blanket. Sleep marks marred his right cheek. Sometimes, Jungwon's natural softness made Sunoo feel like he'd have to work a little harder for his money.
"Getting some air. You?"
"Was getting water," Jungwon mumbled. He carried with him the cotton warmth of the bedroom, without the stuffiness that Sunoo had wanted to get a temporary relief from. "Saw you out here."
Sunoo hummed, glad Jungwon hadn't followed it up with the obvious, are you okay? Jungwon wasn't the type of leader who prodded unless it came to it, though whether that was because of his age or tact, Sunoo wasn't sure. They stood in silence, watching the faint skyline in the distance.
Four in the morning brought a liminal quality to the night, straddling between the bold dark and the ashen morning to come in hours. Their residential neighborhood was serene, asleep except for the occasional lit window, small patches of night owls or maybe early risers. Sunoo skimmed his eyes over their fences, the well-trimmed bushes, and wondered what kind of lives were led on the other side. Some nights he wanted to climb over, find out.
"I think that'd be illegal, hyung," Jungwon said sagely.
Sunoo blew into the air, watched it turn into a vague wist of fog. "I thought you were falling asleep."
"While standing?" Jungwon shuffled, his blanket falling to his shoulders. His hair fluffed, lopsided. "Don't be ridiculous."
Sunoo shivered. After half an hour out here, the chill was starting to get to him, dismissing his usual body temperature. He would be almost offended, if Jungwon hadn't opened his cocoon, offering him a spot.
"Has anyone told you that you're a really good leader, Jungwon-ie?"
"Yeah."
"Who?"
"You, just now." Jungwon's dimples winked. Sunoo rolled his eyes, but he laughed, despite himself. Four in the morning made a lot of things funny. It also loosened your jaw, lets out words that can't be taken seriously in the daylight.
"I mean it, Jungwon. You're good at thinking about other people. You put other people first, almost to a fault. There are times I wished I was more like you."
When he looked back on Jungwon, he didn't expect to catch such a tender expression. Jungwon hadn't meant for him to see; it flashed by, like a flicker of movement behind a shutting door. They were close, but not that close yet. Sunoo supposed he might find out the intended audience of that face in a few years.
But for that moment, Jungwon's calm exterior slid back into place.
He didn't look at Sunoo when he said, "I don't think it's a bad thing to put yourself first, sometimes."
intak
hello, this is intak ^^
just saw your mubank stage, you were really cool out there :)
sunoo
heh, we're the same age right...
let's drop the formalities, intak-ah 😌
intak
oh! okay 🤭