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A survival show is not exactly where one would expect love to find them.
It’s not exactly a place for anything at all, but a perpetual limbo of work, work , and occasionally, the few glimpses of rest and relaxation. The entire dorm and set thrums with a constant nervous energy, even when they are filming light-hearted behind-the-scenes or even extra content, like Sports Day. Not everyone is going to survive, and as much as this is a place full of friends, it’s equally filled with enemies.
Perhaps that’s why Sung Hanbin seems to be the only one unaffected by it, his rank of P01 the only truly unchanging variable, the calm in the storm, forever cheerful. Zhang Hao was almost jealous of it, at first, but he has little energy to spare for such emotions nowadays.
When the first song selection for the K vs G battle had begun, he had been disappointed, to but it lightly, that he was not even in the top 5 when it came to fancam views. A shallow number to base his worth off certainly, but he had been certain coming here, that he would get to the top, no matter what. What was a center if he was a G group one?
Hanbin came to approach him that day. That was the first time he and Hanbin truly talked, the cursory conversation made before when filming the signal song meant nothing much, he knew this. This, this ? The Sung Hanbin approaching him after the cameras are off and the lights are dimmed? This is not nothing.
Zhang Hao doesn’t notice Sung Hanbin approaching him, too caught up in his own thoughts, till the other plops right down beside him, and asks, “How are you feeling?” Zhanghao startles at the sound, breaking him out of his thoughts.
“Nothing much,” Zhang Hao replies, the Korean syllables in his mouth garbled and unfamiliar.
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Sung Hanbin says in response, then pauses, “Sorry, that came out wrong, I just mean that you look kind of upset right now.”
Zhang Hao doesn’t know how to respond to that, the other Yuehua trainees know better than to bother him when he’s like this and he’s conflicted about how he feels about this. Should he be honoured? Touched?
Zhang Hao feels nothing as he stares blankly back at the boy in front of him and asks, “Why?”
Sung Hanbin flushes red, and his mouth gapes open before he catches himself and says,” Well, you just look like you were having a bad day, I’m sorry if I bothered you.”
Regret hits Zhang Hao almost immediately upon seeing the dejected look on the other’s face. Just as he opens his mouth to interject, Sung Hanbin speaks up again, “I’ll leave now, sorry again hyung.”
Well, then, fuck.
“No, wait—I’m sorry, stop getting up—you were right I was just having a bad day. Sorry I took it out on you, I didn’t mean it.” Zhang Hao calls out, his hand reaching for the other.
Zhanghao’s hand locks right on target, which would, in theory, be a good thing if it didn’t send Sung Hanbin down, limbs flying. All of a sudden, there’s a warm weight in Zhang Hao’s lap, which is strange because why would there be something on his lap—
Oh .
Sung Hanbin is in his lap. The Sung Hanbin is currently sprawled on his lap, dazed and confused, but mostly embarrassed if the look on Hanbin’s face is anything to go off. The boy in his lap is rapidly turning red now, evidently flustered as he brings his palms up to his face in a sad attempt to cover up the flush that has long since spread to his neck.
Zhang Hao can only stare at the boy in his lap, his head completely blank other than a single word, cute . Maybe Zhang Hao is not really that bothered about this entire fancam situation, after all. It really never was that deep.
Again, Sung Hanbin makes the first move by scrambling off his lap, breaking the moment, as he shoots up and bows, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
“No—What? Wait. No, it’s my fault, I didn’t mean to do that, really,” Zhang Hao babbles, standing up to bow back in return anxiously. “I’m really sorry about that, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have touched you like that, I really shouldn’t have pulled you down like that, you could have gotten really hurt.”
“It’s okay, really,” Sung Hanbin replies, then bursts out laughing when Zhang Hao shoots him an incredulous look.
“No, I’m serious, it’s nothing—” Sung Hanbin manages to force out between peals of laughter, slapping his thigh. “Let’s—let’s start over?”
Zhang Hao blanks for a second, staring up at the boy above him. He gets it now, he really does, why the world is so obsessed with the boy in front of him. Even in the harsh white light of the practice room, even dressed in nothing but a grimy grey shirt that has no doubt seen better days, Sung Hanbin shines . He’s radiant even flushed and slightly sweaty, perhaps even because of it, the paragon of the ‘star’ this show is so desperately trying to create.
Ah , Zhang Hao thinks, he’s been silent for far too long and Sung Hanbin’s large smile is growing dimmer with every passing second. That can’t be.
So Zhang Hao beams back, and says, “Let’s start again, I’m Zhang Hao, from Fujian, China. I’m 23 years old this year.”
Sung Hanbin looks startled for a second, and returns the smile back in equal force, eyes twinkling, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, officially . My name is Sung Hanbin, and I’m from Chungnam, Korea. I’m 22 years old this year.”
That’s how it starts.
★
“Did you actually join the group for me?” Zhang Hao asks, tilting his head. They are hiding in the stairwell, the designated spot for any conversation or well, any situation that involves privacy.
“Of course? Why would I lie about that?” Hanbin hums, sounding mildly amused. His bangs hang lowly on his face, clumped together with sweat, and yet somehow, he manages to pull off the look anyways.
Zhang Hao hates him. (He doesn’t.)
“I don’t know, I thought you were playing it up for the cameras,” Zhang Hao replies, as he leans his head back onto the cool concrete wall.
Hanbin’s eyes track his movements carefully, like they always do, almost imperceptible. But Zhang Hao knows now, because he’s always looking back.
Tomboy was a calculated decision, of sorts, half made out in hopes to recreate the success of his Kill This Love stage and half made out due to his own love for the song.
He’s kind of a girl group stan. Sue him.
There’s a comforting familiarity to be found within these same songs, they remind him of home, back when he was still in China, listening to the very same songs he’s now performing. It had been nothing more than a pipe dream back then, the edges of a vision still nebulous and uncertain. It feels a century away, despite the mere few months that it really had been from when Zhang Hao had actually decided that, yes, he was going to be a K-pop idol, no matter what it took.
“Hm,” Hanbin mutters, his lips quirking up slightly at the ends.
The tension between them is electrifying. There’s been something between them since the moment Zhang Hao had pulled Hanbin back down, into his lap. That was an accident, of course, but occasionally Zhang Hao can’t help but think it was nothing but fate.
“ Ge ,” Hanbin starts off, startling Zhang Hao, who’s vaguely aware of Hanbin's burgeoning Chinese prowess though it’s one thing to hear about it and another to be personally subject to it.
Zhang Hao doesn’t even want to think about the honorific.
“Yes?” Zhang Hao replies, raising an eyebrow. Zhang Hao wonders if he wants this to mean something, and then he wonders who the ‘he’ he is referring to is.
“I’m serious about this,” Hanbin returns in lieu of a proper answer.
What ‘this’ is? Zhang Hao can only guess.
Zhang Hao hums in reply, nodding. He’s not sure if his vocabulary in Korean is sufficient to encapsulate the entirety of his emotions in this exact moment right now.
Then, Hanbin barrels on, unperturbed by Zhang Hao’s non-response. “ Ge, are you serious about this too?”
Zhang Hao feels that they are veering straight for dangerous territory, uncharted and unsure. No matter what he answers to this, it’s in some way a confirmation, a resolution to something he can’t even define.
So he changes tactics and instead says, “Of course, I’m serious about the performance. We must deliver the best stage possible no matter what. We wouldn’t want to disappoint our fans, right, Hanbin-ah?”
Zhang Hao doesn’t even have to look to feel the look that Hanbin is giving him.
★
Nothing between them changes after that conversation, fortunately, or not. The both of them still turn up to practice together the next few days and everything functions exactly like clockwork. Hanbin still smiles at Zhang Hao every time he catches Zhang Hao looking at him a bit too hard when they are running through the Korean lyrics and Zhang Hao does nothing but smile back.
Even during dance practice, everything remains exactly the same, Hanbin is as touchy as ever and Zhang Hao returns his antics with a raised brow and a grin. Hanbin seems more than willing to let the whole thing slide, unperturbed by Zhang Hao’s own internal struggle.
The strange sense of normalcy is oddly unnerving, considering their circumstances and it’s almost unbearable sometimes. Then Hanbin sends him a look when they are practicing their part together, their heads ridiculously close together and Zhang Hao corrects that statement, it’s extremely unbearable always.
Perhaps the biggest issue with this entire situation is that others are picking up on it. Hui, for all his years as a leader, seems particularly attuned to it and he shoots the both of them badly-disguised strange glances the entire practice.
When Hanbin pulls away from Zhang Hao, to continue on with the rest of the song, Zhang Hao finally breathes. He takes a huge gulp of the stale practice room air and relaxes.
If Zhanghao compares this to his music (he’s not, waxing poetics is too much), he would liken Hanbin to his favourite violin, distinctly familiar underneath his hands always and forever reliable. Zhang Hao has a few violins, but this one has always been his favourite, at some point his parents were convinced that there was a spirit in the violin who had captured his soul somehow. There was no spirit when they went to the exorcist to confirm, but Zhang Hao wonders if there’s a certain magic to it anyhow.
Zhang Hao is the type of person who likes to keep his things in the best condition, his violin free from scratches or nicks, perennial in its perfection. It’s almost brand-new even after all these years.
But that’s about where the similarities stop, it’s hard to keep something as you want it when there’s someone pulling you in the opposite direction.
As he stretches his neck, pulling his head to the side, he catches Hui’s eye, and the older cocks his head to the side in question. Just as Zhang Hao is about to turn back his head, Hui mouths at him, “Good luck.”
Fuck all these people who are too perceptive for their own good, really.
But to his credit, Gunwook seems perfectly content being completely oblivious to the strange triangulation of his 3 other group members and their shared secret. It’s barely a secret at this point, because a secret is only ever truly a secret when one person knows it.
Too many uncontrollable variables are at play in their lives and Zhang Hao doesn’t know what else to do but brush this off as another.
★
It all had to come crashing down on him eventually, Zhang Hao knows intrinsically, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon .
Zhang Hao settles into his new role beside Hanbin quite comfortably, it’s not a pain to be around Hanbin, not at all. His sudden drastic increase in attention and screen time doesn’t hurt either. Whether the comments are people seeing him for who he is and his talent or just as a package deal with Hanbin, is another matter for now. It’s a start.
There are pros and cons to every situation and this is no exception, because Hanbin amps up the flirting even more . Zhang Hao has never been particularly good at receiving advances but he feels like he should learn, especially now.
So he returns the affection in kind, false or not, it feels like he needs to repay Hanbin somehow.
When they are sitting down together during a break, watching Gunwook still plow ahead, running over his lines again and again, Hanbin makes his move. It’s subtle and innocuous, the way he leans to lay his head on Zhang Hao’s shoulder, and says, “Our Gunwookie is so hard-working.”
Zhang Hao’s heart stops and then starts again.
He smiles, voice as even as he can keep it, and replies, “Yeah, he is. He’s so young but already doing so well.”
Hanbin scoots over even closer than Zhang Hao has thought was physically possible considering their sizes, and presses his face into Zhang Hao’s shoulder. Then, he says something that Zhang Hao can’t hear, but he feels the reverberations through his entire body anyways.
“What was that?” Zhang Hao questions, Hanbin’s proximity sending a strange sort of feeling through him.
Hanbin’s head pops up and he leans back down to put his chin on Zhang Hao’s shoulder, “I was asking if you think we’ll all debut. Our group members.”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Zhang Hao answers, amused, it’s one of the few things he’s certain about, considering their current ranks. He has enough faith in their abilities, and their stage is going to be amazing .
But he would be lying to himself if he wasn’t uncertain, unsure if their current rankings will continue, unsure if Gunwook’s ranking would rise, unsure if Mnet would give them a good edit.
“I don’t know,” Hanbin mutters, his face uncharacteristically solemn. His arms come to wrap around Zhang Hao’s waist, “I’m worried, hyung.”
“I’m worried too, but there’s not much we can do about it. All we can do right now is try our best and pray,” Zhang Hao replies, this is familiar conversation terrority, one he’s had multiple times over with so many others.
“There’s nothing that we can do,” Hanbin parrots, then his face screws up again.
Zhang Hao cocks his head in assent, about to turn back to where Gunwook is still practicing when Hanbin speaks again.
“Hyung,” Hanbin starts off, chewing on his lower lip. Zhang Hao’s eyes track the movements, and he reaches out to brush his fingers over Hanbin’s lips to stop him from ruining his already peeling lips before he can even register the movement.
“Don’t do that,” Zhang Hao mutters, his voice low, as he lightly tugs Hanbin’s lips away from his teeth. Hanbin’s lips are frustratingly soft, but slightly rough, undoubtedly because he hasn’t been drinking enough water. The thought makes Zhang Hao huff internally in annoyance, and he makes a mental note to change that. He raises his eyes back to meet Hanbin’s eyes only to see the other with an indecipherable look in his eye.
No, it would be wrong to say it’s indecipherable. Zhang Hao knows full well what that look is.
Time stops, for what feels like an excruciatingly long time. There’s nothing in the room but Zhang Hao and Hanbin, no cameras, no other trainees, nothing.
Nothing but them.
They are stuck in a perpetual stalemate, both equally unable to make that final jump, that leap of faith. Zhang Hao is not a naturally talkative person, and there have always been better ways to express things to him than the confining nature of these structured, pre-defined words. But he’s good at words, or so he thinks at least, but yet they somehow always fail him when it came to Hanbin.
“Do you think we’ll debut together, hyung?” Hanbin whispers, voice low, his gaze searching. Searching for what? Zhang Hao wonders to himself, and he swallows, his mouth is so, terribly dry.
“We will. I believe in us, Hanbin-ah,” Zhang Hao whispers back, but he doesn’t put words to the uneasy feeling in his gut, that shadow of uncertainty constantly lingering at the back of his mind. He curls his fingers into fists at his side, and repeats, mostly to himself, “We will.”
Hanbin leans in, his eyes fluttering shut as he murmurs, so soft Zhang Hao barely catches it “Hyung, no, ge . Later?”
Zhang Hao bites on his bottom lip and tilts his head forward in silent acknowledgment. They pull apart easily just as Hui starts gesturing at them to get up and get back to practice, and Zhang Hao feels an odd sense of loss as Hanbin gets up and walks away.
He needs to get his shit together and focus .
Practice is always relaxing in its own way, that familiar intricate ritual of near mindless repetition till Zhang Hao gets the moves and notes just right . It’s tiring sure, but in that endlessly fulfilling way, the feeling Zhang Hao had felt when he received his Gao Kao scores back, when all that work over all those years paid their dues. Being an idol is more satisfying though, his rewards are now in the form of almost immediate gratification from that perfected choreography, the cheering of fans, and the sudden realisation that all these people know your name . People know him now, they see him.
It’s just nice .
It’s also nice when practice ends, and everyone starts packing up and drifting off towards the dorms and Hanbin pulls him aside to the stairwell. Somewhere at the back of his mind Zhang Hao wonders if they are going to make this a regular thing, and then he comes to the realisation that he wouldn’t really mind if it did. Well, all in due time, he supposes.
Things get even better when Hanbin pulls Zhang Hao’s face to his and mutters, “Tell me you want this too, I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t.”
Well, what can Zhang Hao do, really?
“Of course,” Zhang Hao says, and then in that same split second, he crashes their lips together.
He cannot honestly say why he did it, why he agreed and even went so far as to initiate the damned kiss, why he threw away that silver of a chance at plausible deniability. All Zhang Hao knows is that it felt unbearably right in the moment, like it had been already preordained by fate and Zhang Hao was simply pushing things along. It wouldn’t be hard to list what Zhang Hao didn’t like about the kiss, which was not perfect by any means, their lips both too dry, and Hanbin’s teeth clicking against his almost painfully when Zhang Hao had pushed their faces together. But it wouldn’t be hard for Zhang Hao to list the things he likes about it too, namely, the fact that Hanbin’s lips are on his and that his lips are on Hanbin’s. He also likes the way that one of Hanbin’s arms has found its way around his waist with sneaking into his hair. He likes it a lot, actually.
Sometimes the best things in life are the most uncomplicated.
Kissing Hanbin feels surreal, and Zhang Hao doesn’t know what to do with whatever he just unlocked in himself, so he pulls away. He leans back slightly as their lips disconnect, and gets a proper look at Hanbin’s face, his hair already mused from their long day now in an absolute mess . His face is flushed and his lips are red and swollen, and his eyes are glistening (With tears? Zhang Hao hopes not.) and he looks utterly debauched.
A small part of Zhang Hao keens at the image, and an even smaller part of him thinks, Look, I did that . Zhang Hao is absolutely trying his level best to ignore the warmth that is spreading through his body, and the heady satisfaction of seeing Hanbin looking like that because of him. He’s normal about these sorts of things. He is.
There are a million things on the tip of Zhang Hao’s tongue right now but the only thing that comes out is, “You aren’t very good at that, huh. Maybe you need more practice.”
Hanbin looks stricken for a second before he processes the rest of Zhang Hao’s statement, and he grins, teeth on full display when he replies, “Guess you’ll have to help me out then.”
“I guess I do,” Zhang Hao replies, pressing his lips together as he looks back at Hanbin, truly and properly for the first time.
★
At some point, after Tomboy wins overall and the Artist Battle starts, the conversation shifts to what Zhang Hao wants from Hanbin. The conversation hangs heavy in the air, the constant elephant in the room, it’s no longer a question of if but more one of when to everyone else.
Zhang Hao is not everyone else.
He and Hanbin are on a dangerous precipice, and there’s nowhere to go but down.
They’ve been doing something though Zhang Hao isn’t sure what because neither of them has made a move to put a name on it. All Zhang Hao knows is that they’ve been dancing around each other, if ‘dancing around each other’ involves making out with someone in secluded (or as secluded as possible in a dorm with what is now 28 other men) areas.
They are still using the flimsy excuse of ‘practice’ to explain away why they spend every free waking moment attached to the other. Zhang Hao almost wonders if it’s really all it is, practice but then he takes one look at Hanbin and he knows instinctively that it’s far bigger than that.
It’s something he’s not sure if he enjoys, being the subject of multiple bets (if the looks the rest of the Yuehua trainees, Kuan Jui, Matthew, Keita, and basically everyone else in the goddamn show are constantly giving them are anything to go by.)
Having agency over your own actions is fun, most of the time, until something like this happens.
There’s nothing stopping him from bridging the gap now, to meet Hanbin where he already is, right in the middle.
The issue now is that Zhang Hao isn’t sure if he should .
Whatever he and Hanbin have going on right now? It’s good in every sense of the word, and he’s more than content with what he has right now, as little or as much as it may be. He isn’t sure either, because of well, he’s not exactly sure what either.
He knows what he likes about Hanbin, which is a lot of things, but most prominently of all is the way he gets that bit more honest when the cameras are off, sly and teasing, all his perfectly sanded edges sharpened again. They are all more genuine when the cameras are off, but Zhang Hao feels it's just always more with Hanbin.
There’s something special about being one of the few people who get to see Sung Hanbin at his most genuine, when he’s sleepy-eyed at 3am in the morning and crawling into Zhang Hao’s bed, spewing a bunch of words Zhang Hao doesn’t understand beyond the simple fact that they are curses. When the cameras are off and the rest of the trainees are asleep and it feels like they are the only two people in the world, cuddled up and squashed together in a bed that was barely made for one, let alone two.
Maybe it’s because Hanbin knows that Zhang Hao doesn’t understand what he’s saying, not really, when he mutters all sorts of swears tucked in between his recountings of the day and his complaints about everyone else that Zhang Hao just hums along in agreement with, too tired to provide a semblance of a proper conversation.
This all means something, it’s just that Zhang Hao isn’t sure what . The variables and the formula is there but this only brings Zhang Hao back to the days when he was toiling over his math workbooks completely uncomprehending, just redoing the questions over and over again till he just finally gets the answer through sheer force of will.
He’s still turning trying to piece together the pieces, staring up at the ceiling, when a weight settles into the mattress right next to him, and then plops itself right on top of Zhang Hao without a word.
“Hanbin?” Zhang Hao whispers, careful to keep his voice low, the cameras are off, he thinks, but it never hurts to be careful. One of the things Zhang Hao misses most fervently is privacy , it’s something he had thought he would be okay with, having also had a roommate in college but it’s so hard to have conversations in the dorms.
The lump on top of him makes a noise of agreement, rolling around in an attempt to find a comfortable position which Zhang Hao honestly doubts the existence of, considering the area they were working with. Then, Hanbin settles in right beside Zhang Hao, legs still strewn on top of him, and wriggles around till Zhang Hao gets the hint and presses himself tighter against the wall, allowing Hanbin to settle in comfortably in what is now his unspoken spot on Zhang Hao’s bed.
A head peeks out from underneath the jacket and Hanbin’s eyes, from where they are covered by his bangs, dance around the room before landing on Zhang Hao’s eyes. Zhang Hao can’t help but smile at Hanbin’s unmistakably disheveled appearance, and his rapidly blinking eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room.
Zhang Hao doesn’t ask why Hanbin is here, an unspoken rule, instead, he asks, “How was today?”
“Tiring,” Hanbin sighs, worming his way into Zhang Hao’s space even more than Zhang Hao had previously assumed possible. Every inch of his skin is somehow in contact with Hanbin’s, and Zhang Hao moves to complete that last bit by hooking their fingers together.
There . That’s better, Zhang Hao thinks to himself.
“Did anything happen?” Zhang Hao continues, idly fiddling with Hanbin’s fingers.
“Not really, but,” Hanbin cuts himself off and says some phrase Zhang Hao doesn’t recognise before continuing, “I’m scared Mnet is going to find some way to edit me badly, you know?”
Zhang Hao hums quietly, he understands the feeling intimately. That fear of downfall when everything seems far too perfect.
Then, Hanbin suddenly speaks up again, blurting out, “I lied, something did happen today.” Zhang Hao squeezes his fingers gently and waits for him to continue.
“I kind of got Jiwoong-hyung to tell Matthew to change his part because Seungeon suits it better. Look, I knew Matthew really wanted it but I don’t know, it just wasn’t sounding the way it should have in my head,” Hanbin rambles, his free hand waving around rapidly.
“I couldn’t tell Matthew straight to his face, you know? Like, I think I could have done it if it was anyone else but it’s Matthew ,” Hanbin says, chewing on his bottom lip.
Zhang Hao nods, because he gets it, and he replies, “You didn’t do anything wrong, not really. We are here to deliver a good stage, but you won’t want to ruin your friendship with Matthew over this. You did the best you could’ve at the moment, even if it’s not necessarily the best course of action.”
Hanbin is silent throughout the entire speech and for even longer after that, and Zhang Hao can slowly feel the embarrassment creeping up his skin. God , did he say too much?
“So you think I should apologise?” Hanbin says finally, and Zhang Hao breathes a sigh of relief.
“It’s up to you, what do you think you should do?” Zhang Hao asks, his eyelids slowly drooping down from sheer exhaustion. His head is cloudy now, barely able to register and process any of the words Hanbin is saying, his thoughts just a mess of incoherent Chinese and Korean.
“I don’t know, I just—I’m just so frustrated with everything, like why doesn’t Matthew get it, why can’t I own up to the fact that the entire thing was my idea, and why are Jiwoong and Matthew in the midst of a cold war? It’s my fault, fuck ,” Hanbin mutters, visibly agitated.
“It kinda is,” Zhang Hao says, then stills, because that was totally not what he meant to say at all.
Hanbin lapses into heavy silence again and Zhang Hao panics, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Wait, that came out wrong, I’m sorry, that’s not exactly what I wanted to say.”
“That’s exactly what you wanted to say though, hyung?” Hanbin remarks, his tone far too casual to not be forced, his face washed free of emotion.
Well, fuck, Zhang Hao can’t back out of this now, he briefly contemplates pulling the foreigner card before giving up, Hanbin would see through that in an instant. “Yeah,” Zhang Hao says instead, “I did.”
“But, I just want you to know even if it’s your fault, doesn’t necessarily mean you are completely wrong either, Hanbin-ah. I think there are too many factors at play here, but I think you should at least talk this out with both Jiwoong and Matthew, even if you don’t apologise.” Zhang Hao is rambling now, he knows, and there’s little he can do to stop it.
“I’ll think about it,” Hanbin says and it’s in the coldest tone Zhang Hao’s ever heard from him.
He should try to salvage this situation, he probably should, but the problem is that Zhang Hao doesn’t know how. So he does what he does best, and shuts up and gives Hanbin his space to work things out himself, he has more than full faith that Hanbin could have easily resolved this entire issue himself and will do so, eventually at least.
They fall silent again but this time, there’s a noticeable current of tension in the air, unfamiliar and ever so disconcerting. Zhang Hao still stands by what he said, he’s never been one to mince words, but he’s usually far better at handling situations like this, taking a more diplomatic route. Even when he and Hanbin were complete strangers, back in the early days, it wasn’t—it wasn’t like this , and Zhang Hao wonders if he’d ruined them.
Hanbin breaks the silence, and announces, loud enough that it snaps Zhang Hao’s slowly closing eyes back open, “I’m going to talk to them tomorrow.”
Zhang Hao doesn’t know what to say, how to reply, so all he manages to force out is a stilted, “Good.”
“Thank you, I think,” Hanbin remarks out of the blue, the statement clearly directed at Zhang Hao even though he’s facing the empty bed at the side.
“I don’t know what you’re thanking me for, I didn’t do anything,” Zhang Hao replies, curling up tighter into himself.
“I just wanted to do it. I think you keep humble,” Hanbin says, almost unthinkingly, but Zhang Hao doesn’t think—Scratch that, Zhang Hao knows that Hanbin has thought that sentence through, his words simultaneously a knife to the heart and compliment all the same. It’s hard to tell sometimes with Hanbin, how much of it is deliberate, calculated kindness and ignorance and how much of it is part of the fundamentally charming boy-next-door nature of Hanbin’s entire personality.
“Hmm,” Zhang Hao hums, low in his throat, “I think it’s fine if you're a bit more arrogant too, I think I’ll like you all the same.” And Zhang Hao means it.
Hanbin says something, Zhang Hao is almost certain, but it’s late and Zhang Hao can already feel himself succumbing to the hazy cloud of sleep flooding his vision. He manages to catch a whispered, “— you.” before he passes out.
★
Who is Sung Hanbin to him? That’s an easy question. Hanbin is the Korean Zhang Hao, his twin flame, they are two sides of the same coin. Hanbin’s perpetual first to his second, if their recent rankings are anything to go by. It's easy to say that, even for the cameras, Zhang Hao has always been good at saying things he doesn’t mean.
What does Sung Hanbin mean to him? That’s a far harder question to answer.
Zhang Hao is constantly oscillating between the cursory, generic answer of “ Everything ” for their rabid fans and something closer to the truth because he thinks that Hanbin at the very least, deserves that from him. But here is where the real question lies, what is the truth? Hanbin is so much , there’s something so inherently charming and endearing about him that neither Zhang Hao nor it seems, the rest of the world, is impervious to. Hanbin is simultaneously the eye and the calm of the storm, and perhaps that is the aptest metaphor to describe what he means to Zhang Hao after all.
This conflict must be so evident on his face whenever he drops by the Say My Name team to visit Hanbin (again) that Kim Jiwoong actually pulls him over to the side one day and looks at him straight in the eye and says, “I know we’ve never actually spoken like this before,” he gestures vaguely before continuing, “But you can’t keep this up.”
Zhang Hao, who was totally not on his way to find Hanbin during their shared break time (they had specifically organised their practice schedules so that they would have at least one hour free at the same time every day) is stunned into silence. He can feel Hanbin’s confused gaze on him from across the room and he shoots a panicked look back because he doesn’t understand what’s going on either.
He’s aware of Jiwoong, sure, in the same way, he was aware of Hanbin before they became whatever they are now, no more, no less.
Zhang Hao is well aware that Jiwoong is essentially friends with basically all his friends too, but somehow they’ve just never truly clicked , in the way Jiwoong seems to seamlessly blend in with even Yujin, the youngest of the Yuehua trainees. Zhang Hao gets what they see in him though, even beyond his infuriatingly perfect face, he’s got a magnetism to him that draws the younger trainees to him like a moth to flame.
Maybe Jiwoong’s natural predisposition to taking care of others is diametrically opposed to Zhang Hao’s own preference for taking care of others, two parallels that can never intersect or something.
None of that analysis helps Zhang Hao at the present moment where Jiwoong’s gaze is still fixated on him and his lips are pursed, nonplussed.
Oh, he’s expecting a response, Zhang Hao can do that.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with you though?” Zhang Hao comments idly, his eyes drifting around the room. It’s a different feeling when you’re on the other side of this talk, and he’s far more familiar with being on Jiwoong’s side. He doesn’t know what’s the appropriate reaction for this at all, but it irks him mildly nonetheless.
Here’s the thing, Zhang Hao doesn’t like being told what to do. He can take feedback and criticism as well as anyone else can but that doesn’t mean he likes it.
“Look, I know we aren’t close, and that it’s not really my place to be saying this to you. But I’m close to Hanbin , and that should at least count for something. I can see that this is affecting him, it’s affecting the both of you the longer you drag this along,” Jiwoong implores, his eyebrows drawn together.
“I know what I’m doing, it’s fine ,” Zhang Hao stresses, and then continues, “Look, I don’t even know what you are talking about, we are doing okay.”
“No, you aren’t,” Jiwoong states with such conviction it stuns Zhang Hao.
“ What ?” Zhang Hao says, confused. He’s more than just a little annoyed right now, he’s going more towards being pissed.
At his tone, Jiwoong falters, and his face softens by just that tiny bit. “Look, I know what you’re going through, in a sense. Maybe it’s not the same but I know enough to say that this won’t end well if the both of you don’t want to confront your, mind you , very obvious feelings.”
“I seriously don’t understand the point you are trying to make, Jiwoong-ssi,” Zhang Hao states, as politely as possible through gritted teeth. “I think you are overstepping.”
“Maybe I’m not being clear enough, my apologies, and I know full well I am overstepping, but it won’t end well if the both of you keep up this relationship without defining what exactly you want and if it’s what Hanbin wants too,” Jiwoong says, as he shifts closer to the wall.
“I get what you’re trying to say but, look me and Hanbin? We are fine, we really are, I know we like each other, but we are taking it slow.” Zhang Hao replies, firm.
“ You know that, but does Hanbin?” Jiwoong says in lieu of a response, but maybe it’s enough because Zhang Hao nearly physically recoils at the question.
Does Hanbin ? is the lingering question that haunts him as he drifts along the hallways of the dorms, the question that plagues him as he presses his lips back to Hanbin’s again and again over the course of the next few days all up til the eve of the finale.
Throughout the entire time, Jiwoong sends him cryptic looks whenever he watches Hanbin come back to the practice room, flushed and sweaty and clinging onto Zhang Hao despite the fact that there’s little to no reason for the both of them to be together when they are performing completely separate songs. He sends him the same look when he passes them both in the hallways, which Zhang Hao only returns with a raised brow and a gesture towards Matthew who seems to always be at the other’s side these days.
Jiwoong mouths back “Touché,” and Zhang Hao has to lift his arm to hide his grin behind a sleeve.
Hanbin scrunches up his face in confusion at Zhang Hao’s sudden movement and tilts his head questioningly. Zhang Hao just shakes his head and smiles, a silent reassurance that seems enough for Hanbin because he turns to wave at Yujin walking past.
The dorms are filled to the brim with activity, staff milling around holding huge stage props, trainees packing up, trainees rehearsing their goodbye speeches, and trainees simply lying down, exhausted, and collapsed over random pieces of furniture.
Nothing feels real .
Zhang Hao has put in what it seems like his whole life to reach this show, and to even last this long is a miracle in itself. But he’s still worried, worried for that chance that debut would slip by him, that all this was merely ephemeral and ultimately, meaningless.
What would he be? If he didn’t get chosen to be one of the nine and had to make his way back home to China?
A warm hand comes to surround his own, squeezing it tightly in quiet solidarity, breaking him out of his thoughts.
Hanbin .
Zhang Hao feels unspeakably warm, and he can feel the heat traveling to his face and the prick of tears forming behind his eyes. Zhang Hao doesn’t know if he has the vocabulary to convey what he feels in Korean so he simply just covers Hanbin’s hand around his own with his other hand and lays his head against Hanbin’s shoulder and shuts his eyes.
“We’re going to debut.” Zhang Hao says to no one in particular, his voice muffled against the soft fabric of Hanbin’s shirt.
There’s a hand on his head and Hanbin states, his voice certain and unwavering fingers stroking through Zhang Hao’s hair, “We are.”
“We will,” Zhang Hao repeats, and runs the thought over in his head again and again till it settles nicely right next to the rest of the things he’s sure of. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and they are both going to debut tomorrow, no exceptions.
“Are you scared?” Zhang Hao asks, as he pushes his head slightly off Hanbin’s shoulder to look at him.
“Of course I am. I’m only human after all,” Hanbin murmurs, “But I have something else hinging on this too.”
This is new information to Zhang Hao, who shoots up immediately, his eyebrows raised, “What? What are you talking about? You’ve never told me about this before.”
Hanbin looks strangely nervous now, his eyes shifting around the empty hallway, looking anywhere but at Zhang Hao.
“It’s fine if you don’t want to say,” Zhang Hao adds, watching the look on Hanbin’s face grow more and more constipated. He squeezes Hanbin’s hand, and then lifts his hand up to Hanbin’s face to pinch his cheek, “Tell me when we debut then.”
The strange look on Hanbin’s face hasn’t left, in fact, he’s turned red , the tips of his ears tinted such a vibrant red Zhang Hao can’t help but reach out to pinch them.
“You’re so cute, Hanbinnie,” Zhang Hao mutters affectionately under his breath, and prays to the gods above that, by tomorrow, he’ll still get to have this .
“I’ll tell you when we debut,” Hanbin promises, the red at the tip of his ears still as vibrant as ever.
“I’ll be waiting then,” Zhang Hao says and it feels like a promise.
★
The lights are shining on them, bright and glaring and Zhang Hao can barely see anything beyond his tears flowing down his face. His face is undoubtedly swollen now, his eyes red, and his makeup an absolute mess. He can see Kuan Jui screaming something at him from below the stage, but he’s drowned out by the cheering crowd, all cheering his name. His own name had barely registered in his head, but it’s unbelievably, unquestionably his name that was called out.
Zhang Hao wants to stay in the moment forever.
Zhang Hao desperately scans around the crowd, trying to commit as much detail as possible to memory, the hundreds of banners with his name emblazoned on them in bold, some in Chinese, some in Korean. His own blotchy face is behind him, large and magnified and he can already hear the billion calls from his relatives asking him for favours or money now that he’s famous but none of that matters because he’s fucking first .
He’s made it.
Zhang Hao is debuting, his eyes catch on a banner while he’s scanning the crowd and he whispers the words he sees under his breath, “章昊出道” in awe. He feels like he’s on top of the world, and Zhang Hao knows as sure as he knows anything, that nothing is going to bring him down now.
Then he turns and faces Hanbin, who’s standing beside him, their shoulders almost touching. Hanbin is the first one to pull him in, beaming so brightly that Zhang Hao wouldn’t even know he just lost the first place position for the first time throughout the entire show.
Zhang Hao doesn’t even process Hanbin’s arms wrapping around him or his own arms reaching out to wrap around Hanbin, equally as tight. The only thought in his head is I need to tell him .
This is the same thought Zhang Hao carries to their new dorms, two apartments, and all throughout the rest of the night as they all gradually unpack their things, a frazzled energy, mixed in with the heady scent of relief palpable in the air. They’ve done it, all nine of them.
It’s late when they all pile into the same apartment, a unanimous decision they made, too drained to even bother figuring out proper room divisions. It’s even later when Zhang Hao steps out of the shower, shaking his head to get rid of the extra drops of water clinging stubbornly to his hair. He sees Yujin seated next to Gyuvin on the couch, waving him over, both of them long having changed out of their standard-issue uniform to just pajamas, but they aren’t who Zhang Hao is looking for right now so he shakes his head and mouths a quick apology before continuing his search through the apartment.
Hanbin is somewhere in the apartment, but Zhang Hao isn’t exactly sure where . The apartment they’ve been given is a lot more spacious than the ones they had on Boys Planet, to say the least, and a million times more confusing, especially in Zhang Hao’s sleep-addled state. But no matter, Zhang Hao is a man on a mission .
Zhang Hao bumps into Hanbin walking out one of the doors, the door for what , Zhang Hao isn’t sure, but that isn’t important right now. What’s important now is that Hanbin is right in front of him, visceral and close enough to touch.
What is Zhang Hao supposed to do? Not drag Hanbin back into the room he just came out of and shut the door behind him?
Hanbin blinks at him dazed and confused, eyes wide, “What? What are you doing?”
“I was looking for you,” Zhang Hao says in lieu of an answer, his eyes wide, buzzing with nervous energy.
“I was looking for you too,” Hanbin states, unexpectedly, and eyes fixated on a spot on the wall behind Zhang Hao’s shoulder for no discernible reason. Zhang Hao notes, almost absent-mindedly, that the tips of his ears are turning red but Zhang Hao chalks it up to the shower Hanbin must have just had.
Zhang Hao reached out to place Hanbin’s hands in his, wrapping his fingers around bony wrists, his fingers finding purchase on the warm skin. The gesture was so familiar it was practically habit by now, and Zhang Hao finds himself reaching for something the moment he spots Hanbin, searching for the ghost of his hands.
He hears Hanbin taking in a deep breath, and then breathing out again.
“I want to tell you something!” They both blurt out at the same time, and Zhang Hao shoots Hanbin a shocked look, and Hanbin returns it, mouth even gaping open a little.
There’s nothing particularly funny about the situation, at least not in comparison to whatever went down on the regular back in their old dorms, but Zhang Hao feels laughter bubbling up in his throat anyways.
Then, Hanbin breaks, and he starts giggling hysterically, bending down to catch his breath. The sight of Hanbin laughing so hard, his whisker dimples, oh god his whisker dimples, appeared on his cheeks sends Zhang Hao into a fit of equally hysterical laughter.
There might be tears in his eyes, but Zhang Hao isn’t quite sure because he can’t lift his head or open his eyes wide enough to properly ascertain whether or not they are there .
It hits him for a moment, that this is it. That he’s going to tell Hanbin now , no take backs, no avoiding the awkward situations that will inevitably follow if Hanbin rejects him right here and now. Strangely enough, Zhang Hao can’t really bring himself to care that much, because this has been a long time coming.
Whatever happens, would have probably happened eventually anyways, there’s no point in delaying it.
“Do you want to go first?” Hanbin says, when he finally stops laughing, while catching his breath.
“Yeah, if that’s okay with you,” Zhang Hao replies, and it settles in his stomach nicely, a welcome certainty.
“Yeah—Of course, shoot,” Hanbin remarks, though his voice trembles slightly.
Zhang Hao squeezes his eyelids shut and takes a deep breath, and then relaxes, it’s time.
“Hanbin-ah, I like you.” Zhang Hao starts and then it’s like a dam has broken open because everything else floods out in a barely intelligible string of words, “A lot, actually, romantically . I know we’ve done a lot together already, and this isn’t how a stereotypical courtship goes by any means, but I just wanted you to know this, because I genuinely like everything about you, you are the best person I know, even when you are half-asleep and bleary-eyed and grumpy in the mornings. This is me formally asking you out.”
Zhang Hao pauses for a moment and runs his words over again in his head, and adds, “But it’s fine if you say no. If you don’t like me in that way—“
Zhang Hao doesn’t even get to complete the rest of his sentence before Hanbin jumps onto him, pressing his face into Zhang Hao’s neck. Ah, wait, Zhang Hao thinks to himself, are those tears?
There’s a wet spot on his shirt that’s spreading rapidly, and Hanbin’s still sniffling into his shoulder but Zhang Hao still hasn’t gotten his answer. He thinks he can guess it by now but, one can never be too sure.
“So is this a yes or a no?” Zhang Hao laughs, his hand reaching for Hanbin’s head to smooth out his hair. His only response is another wet sniffle into his shoulder, as he strokes the other’s hair.
“Fuck yes,” Hanbin manages to get out, in between sniffles, and yes, Zhang Hao knows all the Korean swears now, he got Keita to teach them to him a while back.
Zhang Hao grins, his teeth on full display now and there’s nothing else he feels but a rush of elation at the confirmation, spreading throughout his body. It’s electrifying.
“Really?” Zhang Hao asks again, for no particular reason, ok, he’s lying, he just wants Hanbin to say it again.
“Yes, yes . I was going to ask you the exact same thing but you beat me to it. You know that thing I told you I wanted to tell you about after we debuted? This was it, ge , this was it.” Hanbin says, breathlessly and beautiful all the same in his holey shirt and shorts.
Zhang Hao can’t take it anymore so he doesn’t, because he doesn’t have to, and he pulls Hanbin in for a kiss. They’ve kissed too many times for anything to be new but this one is different all the same. Zhang Hao feels insane , and he wonders, fleetingly, if it’s normal to be so obsessed with someone you’ve just started dating.
The both of them aren’t one for normalcy anyhow, and Zhang Hao doubts they ever will so it suits them perfectly anyways.
When they pull away, gasping for air after what feels like an eternity, they have matching equally swollen lips and flushed faces, and smiles. There’s no feasible way this day can get any better, Zhang Hao thinks for the umpteetnth time.
“Boyfriends?” Zhang Hao questions, giddy and slightly delirious.
“Boyfriends,” Hanbin confirms, beaming back at Zhang Hao with a smile so big it must physically hurt .
Zhang Hao stands corrected, the day just got better, well technically, the day after but time isn’t real and Sung Hanbin is his fucking boyfriend , Zhang Hao is pretty sure he’s earned the rights to say anything he wants.
He tells Hanbin exactly that and is rewarded by Hanbin jumping back onto him again, eager, and hasty as he pulls Zhang Hao back in for another sloppy kiss.
Zhang Hao doesn’t resist, he doesn’t do anything at all, he just closes his eyes and leans back into Hanbin.