Work Text:
Wonwoo pushes his glasses up his nose with the tip of his third finger, careful not to touch the lens. Despite the aid of his eyewear, he still squints his eyes from where he sat at the bar to focus on Chan, happily dancing away with a friend on the club’s designated dance floor. Their small group of two became larger as the song progressed, reminding Wonwoo to continue squinting as he kept an eye on whoever got too close to Chan.
Well, I earn six figures a month for this, he jokingly repeats to himself to fight the drowsiness in his eyes. He had decidedly ignored his drink, opting to fully set his eyes on Chan. It was actually the younger who wanted Wonwoo to drink, insisting that the other should also enjoy himself with him. Wonwoo said yes and ordered despite already knowing that he might not touch it throughout the night. Chan’s grin made everything worth it.
“Hyung, you haven’t finished your drink yet!” Chan finally comes closer as he makes an effort to scream out his words so Wonwoo could hear him from the head-pounding bass.
Wonwoo smirks. Chan was definitely far from sober. Maybe two more shots and he’s about to drop.
“Come on, let’s get you home.” Wonwoo pushes himself up from the bar stool and drapes his arm over Chan’s shoulders.
“What, no. I went here to ask you if you wanted to dance…” the younger states with a pout just as his arms made their way around Wonwoo’s back, keeping him in place with an embrace. Wonwoo found it amusing and hugged back.
“Nah, dancing was never really my forte. Plus, we have a meeting tomorrow by 10, remember?” Wonwoo sneaks in their morning schedule, hoping that Chan sobers up a little with the reminder.
Chan doesn’t, unfortunately. “Just one, plea–“ Chan doesn’t even get to continue his request before his face contorts into sudden confusion. Just as Wonwoo was about to move the both of them aside, expecting Chan to vomit his guts out, the younger suddenly smiles sheepishly.
“Mmm, yeah, maybe no. I kinda really have to pee.”
Wonwoo howls out a laugh. “If we dance, you’ll spill.”
Chan giggles with him, all sparkly despite the darkness of the club.
“Okay. Toilet, then we go.” Wonwoo adds before they stagger to the restrooms.
Wonwoo opens one of the company building’s offices to first find Seungcheol, one of Chan’s other managers, on one side of the room. He waves his hand, turns his head, and finds Chan on the other side, likely doing a livestream judging from the phone propped up in front of him.
The mild shock was present on the younger’s face as the sudden entrance clearly disturbed the live. Although, Chan still manages to beam at him just as they made eye contact.
“Oh, hyung! Hey.” Chan then turns to the phone. “It’s one of my managers.”
Wonwoo’s shoulders ease as he moves closer. He raises his hand to emphasize the coffee he’d brought. Chan notices this and smiles gratefully as Wonwoo hands him the drink. He retreats after and settles next to Seungcheol.
The live continues, with Chan talking about anything and everything. Seungcheol left minutes later, prompting Wonwoo to come closer and sit near the table instead where Chan was doing his live.
He drowns out the fan’s questions and requests, focusing on scrolling through Twitter to check people’s reactions. His attention soon comes back to Chan when the younger started talking about his wrist.
“Yeah, I’ve been doing some heavy lifting lately, and since I’m new to it, my wrists have been hurting,” Chan explains as he circles the fingers of his right hand to his left wrist.
Chan pauses to look at the comments, then continues the live by reading one out loud. “’Oh no, you should probably get your form checked-‘ Yes! When my instructor came back, he eventually spotted me and told…”
Wonwoo mostly forgot about Chan’s voice, too fixated on the way Chan pouted and then laughed, all while still holding his wrist gently.
Then, without thinking, Wonwoo suddenly speaks in a hushed tone. “Oh? Your wrists hurt?” It was a genuine question, an inquiry he voiced out as he mostly felt worried, of course as his manager. But deep down he was unconsciously trying to bury that tinge of betrayal, of the fact that he didn’t know Chan was hurting all this time, no matter how small the pain was.
Chan was a little surprised but didn’t show it. “Yeah, but it’ll be good soon.”
Again, without being fully aware of his own actions, Wonwoo reaches out until his hand slightly came into view within the camera. He gently reaches for Chan’s wrist, stroking it to feel if it was swollen.
Wonwoo then nods, pleased to feel that any swelling already went down, the pain already reduced to a mild sprain. “Alright. You let them rest, okay?”
“Yup. Will do.” And just like that, Chan turns back to his live.
It only happened for a second, but looking back at it now, Wonwoo felt like it happened for more than that. As he casually sat back in his seat and returned his focus to his phone, his actions replayed in his head. Throughout the duration of the live, Wonwoo was continuously hoping that Chan doesn’t notice how he felt embarrassed after what he had suddenly done.
And, much to Wonwoo’s relief, Chan spoke nothing of the incident. They went on to another one of his schedules for the day, with Chan mostly chatting away throughout the drive. Wonwoo’s boss soon berated him after, though that didn’t make him feel as bad as the heat on his cheeks.
He soon watched the replay to see if his arrival in the room, and of course the way he spoke and how his hand came to view, bothered the fans.
But, in seeing the playback and all the other recordings and translations posted, the entire incident was met with enthusiasm. A lot of it, actually.
Wonwoo’s screen fills with awws and omgs as he scrolls, eyes scanning each post related to him and the whole incident. As soon as he found out that people actually knew who he was, he further ventures online, later then ending up knees-deep in varying photos of him escorting Chan to his schedules.
Despite being nameless, he was quite shocked to see all this admiration towards him. Throughout his years of being a staff member, he never once thought of how Chan’s fans viewed him. He smiled to himself as he read how some admired him from his style to even his work ethic due to his full attendance at almost every event where Chan was present. Even though no one was looking, he soon changed his expression and shifted back to his previous blank face. He may not want to admit it to himself, but the fans’ acknowledgment of him felt comforting, in a way. It was, for some reason, almost akin to the feeling of being accepted.
Wonwoo soon sees a photo of him and Chan side by side, the contrast in height apparent but expressions almost the same. Despite being hidden beneath a mask, Chan’s smile was clearly recognizable as he looks up at the elder, shoulders high from laughter. Wonwoo, although not as discernable, also had a smile on his face, judging from how his eyes also curved on the sides.
His heart jumps. He didn’t know why.
Well, maybe he did know. Wonwoo cared for Chan.
As he should though, he thinks, because that’s what he was supposed to do.
But then, in the course of time, he no longer felt like it was supposed to be what he needed to do. Wonwoo cared because he naturally did.
Wonwoo stares at him now, the younger too busy to notice as he was perfecting an acute angle with his leg. Despite it being one of their many practice days, Chan’s eyes held almost the same fire as when they blazed onstage.
“I’m okay, hyung. Really. You should go,” Chan says as soon as the dancers and other staff members have exited the room. Wonwoo liked how passionate he was; liked Chan’s fire. But sometimes, Wonwoo’s afraid the younger might burn himself with his own flames.
Today, or tonight, rather, was the last run-through for tomorrow’s special stage. With the way that Chan continued to mark his steps in front of the mirror, Wonwoo knew he was about to stay behind with him.
“No. I’m staying. Either way, I’m not really needed for tonight’s meeting,” he replied, fully knowing that Seungcheol and Jeonghan, Chan’s other manager, can take care of the rest of the preparations for tomorrow.
“Yeah. But— I mean, you should go home. Get some rest.”
“Not without you Chan.” Wonwoo then sits up straight, legs flat on the floor and back against the mirror as he crossed his arms together. He pushed his glass up and Chan laughs at his attempt to look somewhat authoritative.
“I’m good. I’ll stay here with you,” he continued with a smile.
Chan beams, and with a shy expression, says okay. He faces himself in the mirror again, heaves a sigh, then starts to move.
Wonwoo hopes that his presence can somewhat lighten the weight on Chan’s shoulders.
Eventually, something shifts. Chan was always at work.
He was already passionate enough then that he decides to work whenever he can. But now he submerges himself; dark circles heavier under his eyes behind all the makeup and stance less confident than they once were.
Other than that, if Chan wasn’t given the option to work, he drinks. Wonwoo can tell. The younger smelled of whiskey sometimes, even too early in the morning.
“Chan, you can’t go to the studio now. It’s literally 1 am.” Wonwoo said it lightheartedly, thinking that Chan wasn’t too serious. Although, with the lack of a reply— not even a short laugh or anything, Wonwoo looks through the rear-view mirror and sees Chan’s creased forehead. The younger insists.
“It’s fine if you don’t take me. I’ll just grab a taxi as soon as you drop me off.”
Wonwoo was shocked at the sudden change of tone. It was pretty rare to hear Chan like this. Still, he understood since Chan’s schedule was packed that week, with the bulk of his album photoshoot scheduled today.
“What? No, Chan. You need to rest, okay?”
When he was met with silence, he continues. “Hey… look. I’m sorry but you—”
“This ‘bring a manager with you at all times’ is bullshit,” Chan suddenly complains, the first time he’s ever protested against their set-up.
“I’m just doing my job, Chan.” I just want to keep you safe.
Something in Chan’s expression shifts, like he was disappointed, like he wanted more from Wonwoo and Wonwoo didn’t know what.
He adds, “Ever since that… thing, seeing you struggle like that, I wouldn’t want to let that happen to you again. That’s why I’m here.” As he says it, the events flash before his eyes; of Chan enjoying his time alone outside, of fans suddenly swarming his space, of him leaving the scene bruised after nearby security escorted him out of the commotion. Chan never went out alone from then on. Always bring a manager with you at all times.
After a long pause, Chan snorts, evidently unamused.
Wonwoo peaks through the mirror again and sees Chan looking out the window.
The silence was too loud it started ringing in his ears.
Chan leaves unprompted the next day. He was gone by morning and everyone searched for him.
Jeonghan, especially, had gone frantic. His eyeballs practically stuck to his phone’s screen as he scrolled through various social sites, thinking that maybe a fan had spotted him. Seungcheol cools him down by handing him one cold drink after another while he began to tell several of their company drivers to roam around their area.
Wonwoo had a hunch about where Chan might be but decides not to tell the others about it, afraid that if Chan was really there, the arrival of reprimanding staff members may make the situation worse.
Although very worried himself, Wonwoo decided to give it some time as he knew Chan desperately needed it. He waited for a few hours until it was later in the afternoon, then proceeds to tell Seungcheol that he needed a breather, to which the other agreed.
Just as Wonwoo was about to turn, Seungcheol adds, “Take care of him, okay?”
Wonwoo’s brows furrow to feign confusion, but just seeing Seungcheol’s look was enough for him to drop the act. He sighs, then smiles.
“Of course.”
Chan was just a trainee then, and Wonwoo was just an intern.
About a year into Chan’s training under the company, one could really tell that his health— both physical and mental, was slowly deteriorating with the number of eyes on him, pressuring him into doing better with each passing day. At the same time, Wonwoo was having a hard time adjusting to all the tasks given to him. He had never been a part of this kind of company, and the amount of work being asked of him was drowning. Add the fact that he was way younger than the others, making him the center of his senior’s observing eyes.
Just a few minutes walk from the old building was a small shop buried down an alley where an auntie and her son sell fried chicken. That was where Wonwoo and Chan officially met. It was supposedly Chan’s little secret, a place where he can stay peacefully, where no one would watch him as he ate. To Wonwoo, it was the only shop nearby where he can buy good food as his small pay was just enough for their meals.
The food was good, and each other's company was better. Since their initial meeting when they stumbled upon each other one afternoon, they made it a habit to eat there whenever they can.
Everything soon changed. Chan debuted, Wonwoo was given a good starting spot at the company, and the shop closed just as the company left the building and moved to a bigger one.
But now, Wonwoo finds himself back where it all began between him and Chan, back where everything began, on very humble beginnings.
True enough, Chan was there. From a distance, Wonwoo sees him sitting on the curb directly in front of the closed shop. As he got closer, he notices that the younger was slurping on convenience store noodles while he watches something on his phone.
He always recognized how Chan’s career made him seem more mature. But now, he definitely looked his age. Wonwoo admits to himself that he always preferred this Chan. As much as he liked Chan as Dino, as the performer who he knew shined the best, he adored Chan as is, stripped of expensive jewelry and any other alias. Just the guy he met years ago, messily munching on chicken without a care in the world.
Wonwoo’s presence finally makes itself known as his shadow appeared within Chan’s peripheral vision.
Chan drops his phone and sighs. “Knew you’d be the one to find me.”
A sad smile appears on Wonwoo’s face. He sits down next to Chan. “Tried to give you some time. But well, Jeonghan hyung…”
Chan knowingly smirks. “Ah, as expected. It’s okay.”
They sit in silence for a while. Wonwoo glances at the rolled-down shutter door behind them, the closed shop a reminder of the countless changes they’ve lived through.
Chan was the first to speak up. “Hey, look. I’m really sorry, about the way I acted last night.”
“I can’t stop, hyung. Practicing, working… it keeps me sane. Because, well, it’s what I’m good at.”
Wonwoo lets Chan speak.
“I also just want to have some time to myself, you know. Time to spend however I want it, without anybody telling me what to do.”
Wonwoo listened. It must be difficult, to have lived years of your life following something that’s fixed for you. What’s worse, he was following this path alone, without a group to share the weight with. Despite entering the industry at an age a little older than others, the bulk of Chan’s life had still gone under the spotlight.
Chan begins to ramble on.
“But, I just… I don’t know. I keep working because I feel guilty if I don’t. Like, I have to keep up with the younger ones. And then, when given some time to do whatever the hell I want, I still decide to practice. If I don’t practice, I sometimes distract myself from the fact that I’m not practicing by drinking at home so it’s easier for me to fall asleep. I—” Chan shakes his head and chuckles to himself. “Oh my god, I’m crazy.”
Getting used to a fixed schedule, of Chan’s time not being completely his. Of the confusion as well. On how living his life hung between what he had done for so long and what his soul was currently yearning for, the agency, to be oneself without the burden of a role to play. Not to mention the other things that may worry him. Family, friends, relationships, everything piled on top of one another.
Chan ignored his inner turmoil and pushed to do what he did best, which was performing. And now, the world was going too fast for him, not letting him breathe. Wonwoo wishes he could slow down time for him.
“You’re not crazy, Chan. You’re human.” Wonwoo conveys warmly, hoping his words bring comfort to the chaos in Chan’s mind. “There’s too much on you right now. You have every right to feel that way.”
“Sorry I don’t tell you guys. I just don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
“You won’t disappoint us. Feeling this way doesn’t make you any less of the amazing person that you are.”
Chan’s eyes start to glisten. Wonwoo opens his arms to ask if Chan wanted a hug. Chan gladly accepts and buries his head in the crook of Wonwoo’s neck as his arms circled the elder’s back.
“I’m proud of you.” Wonwoo tightens the embrace and gently rubs his palm on the other’s back.
A good minute in, with Chan quietly sniffling, he speaks, “And also, I understand you were only doing your job and I shouldn’t keep being difficult and all. You were also tired last night.”
This somehow rubbed off on Wonwoo the wrong way. He’d been thinking about what he said since last night, and he really didn’t like it.
“Yeah, about that.” Wonwoo slightly pulls away. “No, Chan. This is not just me doing my job. I want to make that clear. I’m sorry I worded it that way.”
“Of course, the truth is that I care about you. It goes beyond just me doing my job. I’m here for you because I want to be,” he carefully explained.
The younger, despite the apparent exhaustion, smiles at him, so genuine it pierced him.
Chan then squints and, with an air of amusement in his voice, says “I knew it.” They laugh.
“Talk to me Chan. I’ll always be here for you, okay? I can be your rest.”
As the sun begins to set, they eventually came to an understanding. Wonwoo promises to talk to the higher-ups about giving Chan some time to rest, fully rest.
A few days on, a meeting commenced regarding Chan’s short hiatus after finishing a couple of other scheduled matters. As Wonwoo saw Chan’s small smile, the way in which his eyes disappeared into crescents as he bows and says his thanks to his staff, Wonwoo’s own feelings finally catch up to him.
Over time, Wonwoo completely understood, and accepted, that the way in which he cared for Chan was more than just being a manager, and even more than just a friend.
Although, he didn’t exactly want to act on it. Now was not the right time. After his hiatus, Chan was stronger than ever. He was reaching his peak, and to burden the younger with Wonwoo’s feelings, he felt that Chan would want to spend his mental energy on other things.
But the thing is, when will there ever be a right time?
Wonwoo didn’t want to answer this question in him, afraid of the answer. But still, he was content. He had the best job ever, in his opinion, despite how tiring it may be.
Currently, the two of them were alone again. Chan stayed after practice, and Wonwoo was there, as usual.
It was close to midnight and Chan took a short break. They were sitting side by side, propped up against the wall as they faced their reflections on the other side of the dance studio.
Chan starts the conversation while Wonwoo scrolled through his phone. “You know why you’re… well, the one always with me?”
“Hmm?” Wonwoo speaks absentmindedly.
“I mean, when they told me that I have to bring a manager with me all the time, they made me choose which one.”
At this, Wonwoo looks up to Chan. He finds the other still staring at their reflections.
Chan continues after having seen Wonwoo’s reaction in the mirror. “They made me choose. It’s obviously Jeonghan hyung, Seungcheol hyung, or you.”
“Okay. And?”
“Well, of course I’d choose you, any day.” Chan finally looks at him, then smiles, the types where his eyes smile as well.
Wonwoo only managed to voice out an oh.
Chan seemed to realize what he just said. His eyes widen and he vividly starts to gesture with his hands.
“Ah— because you, because you were the youngest, you know. And the others, they don’t really get me sometimes.” Chan scratches the back of his head, looking everywhere else other than Wonwoo.
The signs, the light bulbs, the signals, whatever else, go off all at once in Wonwoo’s head. Maybe now’s the time.
He smirks. And, with whatever ounce of confidence he had in his body at that moment, he starts.
“Hey, Lee Chan.”
Chan turns to him, still trying to avoid eye contact but Wonwoo follows the younger’s eyes with his own.
“Yes?”
“I’d choose you too. Any day.” God, even he himself cringed at that.
“Hyung,” Chan exclaims, hiding his face behind his hands. “That does not suit you.”
“Hey! I tried, okay. That’s the best I can do at flirting.”
They continue to giggle, but Wonwoo reiterates. “Wait, no, but seriously…”
“Seriously?”
Wonwoo shifts and finally faces him full-on. “I care about you. More than… anything else.”
When Chan leans in and asks since when? Wonwoo answers, honestly.
“I guess, about a year. But I know it’s longer than that. I just didn’t know then.”
Chan nods and exhales.
“I’m sure of it now though,” the elder reiterates.
Chan was still at a pause, not a single word was yet to be said. He was deep in thought, it seems. Wonwoo felt nervous and felt himself suddenly breaking into a cold sweat. He swallows the sting and continues with a light tone.
“Hey. No pressure though. Sorry. Just wanted to say it. I hope this doesn’t ruin—” he says hurriedly.
“Oh! No, no,” Chan cuts him off mid-sentence. “I…”
Then Chan starts to make weird noises, as if he were exasperated, and constipated. Wonwoo, despite the vagueness of it all, found it amusing.
Chan then sighs, like he had just given up, then leans forward to put his lips on Wonwoo’s.
It was just a gentle peck, a soft touch that didn’t last for more than a few seconds. Wonwoo stays frozen as his brain tired to piece things together.
Chan then pulls back and tilts his head, gauging Wonwoo’s reaction.
And of course he grins, grins like it was the best day of his life. Well, maybe it is.
As a reply, he places a hand on Chan’s cheek, one so gentle against the younger’s skin. This time, he surges in, far less hurried compared to Chan's previous advance.
They both melt into it, with Chan’s contented sigh filling their space as soon as their lips meet again. Wonwoo feels a strange kind of warm, a good one that he hasn’t felt with anyone else. Maybe it was Chan’s fire seeping into him. Maybe it was the fire in him, coaxed out by the presence of Chan so close.
Before the kiss could last longer, Wonwoo pulls back and asks, “You? Since when?”
Chan snorts, “Probably way longer than you,” and proceeds to pull him in again.