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The last notable time he ever spoke to Jeonghan, Chan thinks, was a couple of weeks before it happened. Of course, the real last words they exchanged were something so painfully mundane he can't recall it exactly, between practices and recordings and Chan-ah, could you pass me that bottle and You did well today , offhand and insignificant.
He pretends it doesn't hurt as much as it does that he can't pinpoint exactly what they were, that he doesn't have some meaningless sentence to hold close to his chest whenever he thinks of Jeonghan.
Chan finds it morbidly funny that his faulty memory can't remember Jeonghan's last words to him, but can, inexplicably, recall that last dinner down to exact details.
It ended like this: two weeks before it happened, Jeonghan had dragged Chan out to dinner after practice, insisting in that Jeonghan way of his, pushy and dramatic. He remembers the familiar zing of satisfaction that zipped through him, an instinctive reaction that came with being chosen by Jeonghan.
Chan has thought about it a lot since then, and concluded that Jeonghan had that strange power over everyone he met, instilling a sort of inclination to vy for his affection, to crave his approval. Chan knows Jeonghan was semi-aware of it, too, having watched him use it on girls, boys and authority figures alike. They always joked about him 'brainwashing' the members to love him, but Chan thinks there was always an unacknowledged undercurrent of truth there.
Not that it mattered much now.
Back then, Jeonghan had probably felt the way his back straightened minutely, and laid it on even thicker until, before he knew it, they were seated at a table at a shitty fried chicken joint. The place had been half-empty at the late hour, the floors tacky with spilled beer, the wall a lurid red and a teenager at the counter doing their homework.
Exactly Jeonghan's type of place, then.
Knowing him, he had probably chosen it because he could get a discount, nevermind the fact that he had plenty of money to spend.
The conversation had dwindled as they ate, both too hungry after a long day, and too familiar with each other to be polite about it. Chan remembers letting his gaze wander to the window, recognizing the large SUV parked near the curb.
"Why didn't you invite manager-nim in?" he had asked through a mouthful of chicken, tone half inquiring and half condescending.
"I can't spend time with my favourite maknae, now?" Jeonghan had pouted, big doe eyes blinking dramatically. "I want to catch up! Know what's going on in your life!" He had punctuated his statements with a single delicate, pointed finger.
"Right." Chan had raised an eyebrow.
"Also, he wanted to have a smoke, he was fingering the packet in his pocket the entire way here. He should be around the back of the restaurant by now." Jeonghan had winked. "Just thinking of others, Chan-ah."
And that was Jeonghan. Good intentions, through and through. Because, it was nice. He was attentive enough to notice it, and caring enough to actually give a fuck. And of course, it just happened to line up with his own intentions. Chan has no qualms about the fact that, if Jeonghan had wanted the manager here, he would be here, cigarette craving or not. He had an uncanny tendency to get what he wanted.
"So," Jeonghan had leaned forward, chin propped on his hand, "What're you up to these days?"
And it's only because he'd known Jeonghan for nearly a decade that he had caught the glimmer in his eye.
This was a trap.
"Nothing much," he had said carefully, "I mean, we see each other everyday, hyung." He had chuckled, trying to play it off as a joke.
Jeonghan had been undeterred by the obvious dismissal, "We have a day off tomorrow, though," he pushed. "Any plans?"
"Uh, no, not that I can think of," Chan mumbled. Jeonghan had stared at him silently, a slight smirk on his face, and suddenly Chan had felt pinned under his gaze, caught out.
"Well, I mean, there's a thing in the afternoon, but-" Chan blurted, then had immediately wanted to jump in front of heavy traffic.
Hook, line and sinker.
"Oh? Isn't that interesting! With a friend?" Jeonghan had leaned forward, a smile threatening his features.
"Yes," Chan coughed defensively. "Just a friend, god hyung-"
Jeonghan let his face betray his shiteating grin, that nosey motherfucker. "You're lying." He had said it as a fact, no room for argument. His body had relaxed back into the metal chair, his mission accomplished.
He had been right, because of course he was. Chan had been seeing a girl, a cute dancer from their company. He had been so, so , enamoured with her at the time. Now, he can barely remember her name.
Chan had gaped for a moment. "You are just- you are so-" he had sputtered, almost disbelieving that Jeonghan had played him so easily. "Fine! A girl, wow , and here I thought you actually wanted to spend time with me, I see how it is. Who wanted to know, huh?"
"Well, if you must know, it was Seungkwan," Jeonghan had laughed, openly and bright at Chan's suffering. "I was curious, too," he added.
"Of course," Chan scoffed, "I hope he's at least paying you." He had slumped on the table, resigning himself to the fate of merciless questioning from Seungkwan. "How did you even know I was lying, anyway? And you know what, you can go and tell Seungkwan to fuck off , seriously, since he apparently can't live without inserting himself into my business. Honestly, with all his schedules, you'd think that he'd be a little busy-"
Chan had broken off his train of thought, seeing Jeonghan had suddenly gone silent, a strange expression on his face, almost contemplative.
"What?"
"You asked me just now, how I knew you were lying," Jeonghan spoke carefully. His posture had changed again, straightening from his previously slumped position into something almost forcibly relaxed.
Chan paused, caught off guard. "Uh. Yeah, I did," he said. He had been expecting ruthless interrogation, not- whatever this was. "Is that. Not- What about it?"
Chan watched as Jeonghan's face changed, just for a split second, before relaxing into something neutral. It took Chan a second before he placed it as what it was:
Bone-deep, sheer resignation.
Even then, he had known something was off. That Jeonghan shouldn't look like that, that something was going on. But he hadn't pushed, too gleeful at having gotten out of questioning, not wanting to say something, not wanting to shock Jeonghan back into the reality where he told Chan secrets all of a sudden.
God, if Chan could go back, he would've said something. Anything. He's stayed awake too many nights, thinking of what he'd say then. Maybe it would've changed things, maybe not, but at least he would've tried .
Jeonghan had leaned forward, then, and lowered his voice to a mock whisper, a Yoon-Jeonghan-Classic-Mischievous-Half-SmileTM on his face. "Well, here's the secret, Dino-yah. You had best write this down, it's very important."
Chan had rolled his eyes and played along, pretending to write on an invisible notepad.
Smiling affectionately, Jeonghan nodded approvingly at Chan's charade, before dropping the bomb. "You have a tell."
"A what?" Chan asked, baffled, hands still poised over his non-existent notepad.
Jeonghan had laughed, seemingly haven gotten the reaction he wanted, before elaborating, "A lying tell. You know, an action that you subconsciously do when you're lying. It's how I can tell when you're lying."
Chan had been dumbfounded, shocked into silence for a few seconds while he processed this fact. "You- what? Why- Who else? How?"
"I think there was a question in there somewhere," Jeonghan teased lightly. "But to answer them, I've known since our debut, for years. And as for 'how', I just pay attention, I guess. It's easier when you look out for it, specifically."
Chan opened his mouth, but Jeonghan beat him to it, "And before you ask, I know all the member's tells. Some staff and higher-ups in the company, too. It just-" he shrugged, "-makes life easier, I guess."
Chan had been vaguely horrified, both because Jeonghan had been able to tell whenever he was lying for years (he didn't even want to think of the implications of that) and also at the fact that the elder was apparently way, way too close to evil genius territory for Chan's comfort.
Chan went quiet again, not quite sure how react to this new information. Because, on one hand- it was kind of an invasion of privacy, right? But Chan can't kid himself into thinking that if he knew everyone's tells, he wouldn't use it all the time. And Jeonghan wasn't using it for like, evil. It's Jeonghan. Genuinely caring, if a bit nosey, Jeonghan.
Chan, now, clearly remembers thinking this: Was he going to be Righteous Chan, or Cool Chan?
Jeonghan had interpreted his silence as disdain, because he spoke up carefully, "Look, Dino-yah, I-"
"What's my tell?"
Cool Chan it was.
"-What?" Jeonghan had said, surprised.
"My tell? That's how you knew I was lying, just now, about meeting up with Seolhae tomorrow."
Jeonghan had scanned his face for a couple of seconds, eyes searching. Chan didn't know what his face was doing right now, but apparently Jeonghan decided he liked what he saw, because he moved on.
"It's cute that you think me telling you your tell will prevent me from knowing you're lying."
Chan coughed, caught out, "No, I-"
"You square your shoulders a little." Jeonghan had acted out the action, shifting up in his seat. "Like you're about to start arguing with someone."
Chan imitated the movement, and somewhat morosely found it to be quite familiar to his muscles.
So, it was real.
Honestly, he hadn't expected Jeonghan to tell him so directly, without lying about it or bargaining for it.
Excited, he pushed aside the chicken to lean forward.
"That's so cool. Creepy, but cool."
"Hey, it's not-" Jeonghan protested weakly, but clearly happy with having blown Chan's mind.
"What's Seungkwan's?" Chan cut him off. "I am so going to get my sweet, sweet revenge for today."
And again, Jeonghan just...told him.
"Seungkwan tilts his chin up slightly, like he's performing, or acting on stage."
Chan nodded, thoughtfully, "That makes sense."
Jeonghan had continued, uncharacteristically forthcoming, "Myungho enunciates his words more carefully when he lies."
Jeonghan's willing openness was strange at the time, but no stranger than everything else that had happened that evening, so Chan hadn't paid attention.
He should have.
"Seungcheol-" Here Jeonghan's face did something complicated, his lips twisting with some sort of bitter fondness "-fiddles with his ring."
"Oh." Chan's hand instinctively went to his own ring, one of the thirteen in the world. "That's. Well, that's pretty sweet of him."
"Yeah," Jeonghan pursed his lips, "His tell was the first one I figured out, right before we debuted. So obvious."
Chan had spoken up carefully, then, voicing the one question he was painfully curious about.
"You don't- I mean, you don't use it as much as I...thought you would." Chan coughed, uncomfortable, and rambled on. "I mean, if it were me, I'd use it for everything, all the time."
Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully, totally unoffended. "I used it more, back when I was the group therapist."
Chan had grimaced- they were unfair to him, then. He guessed it stemmed from both Jeonghan's desire to be irreplaceable in a group of thirteen, and everyone else falling too far into his image as the "mom" of the group. It got better, over the years. Jeonghan less insecure, and everyone else more mature.
Now, Chan has a real therapist, a nice woman that he goes to see once every fortnight. They all do. Looking back, they probably should've had one back then, too.
Jeonghan had looked at his expression and had laughed, "I'm joking. It wasn't just that." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "Before, when I was a trainee, I didn't know everyone's tells. And I kind of struggled with...myself. And when I did, it really helped with, like, confidence."
Chan scoffed, "Confidence?"
"No, wait." Jeonghan shook his head, frustrated. "More like...self assurance. Especially with company management, and staff. I used it a lot, at first, because it was like- the one advantage I could use."
"Okay," Chan said slowly. "And now I know. Does anyone else know?"
"Joshua."
"Of course he does. You two are seriously evil twins, you know that?"
"I do," Jeonghan laughed. "He was the only one who noticed, so he was allowed to know. He actually made me stop taking advantage of it so much."
"He really is your entire moral compass, isn't he?" Chan joked along, and steadfastly ignored the sting that came with the knowledge that he wasn't, in fact, the first person Jeonghan shared this with.
Because of course Joshua would know. Even now, Jeonghan long gone and Joshua doing his best to run away from everything in LA, Chan knows Joshua knows more about the situation than he's let on.
"So, now you know," Jeonghan had said. "Use it wisely."
If Chan had thought about it more, he would've wondered why Jeonghan had told him this. He wasn't stupid enough to brush over the ridiculous advantage that this knowledge gives him, and Jeonghan is not one to ever give up an advantage, ever .
To this day, Jeonghan is the only person he's ever known that has the upper hand in every situation. Always in control, always two steps ahead.
Chan understands, now. Why Jeonghan told him. What it meant.
If he could just go back-
And as they had moved to leave, Jeonghan had turned to him, and said, "Here's a challenge, Dino-yah. What's my tell?"
Jeonghan had grinned at him, in that musty chicken joint, with sticky floors and red walls and the SUV parked outside and his hair messed up from work and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows.
Chan thinks that image is ingrained in his mind forever, the details as clear as a photograph.
Two weeks and three days after that dinner, Yoon Jeonghan was declared missing.