Chapter Text
Jeonghan got casted by some local entertainment company because he was singing along to the radio while shopping for some supplies for a school project. Jisoo was in the store right across where Jeonghan was, looking for origami paper for his own project.
It’s the middle of spring, and Jisoo is sweating while he holds both their shopping bags for them. Honestly, that shouldn’t be possible. How is he sweating right now?
“They’re not as big as like SM, or JYP, or whatever, but what if I’m the next Hwasa? Can you imagine that?”
Jeonghan is a little breathless, eyes bright and sparkling, and smiling wide when he recalls how the casting manager walked up to him and asked if he could come in to the company for an audition sometime within the next week. He’s bouncing with energy with his hand in Jisoo’s coat pocket while they walk to the bus stop, fingers intertwined.
Jisoo snorts at the brief thought he imagined up of Jeonghan being like Hwasa, the top femme fatale diva in all of Korea. Sure, Jeonghan likes to belt out songs like an actual pro (and sound good at the same time) and shake his ass when they’re in karaoke, but can he even dance?
“No, baby, I don’t think you’ll be the next Hwasa. The next Psy, maybe,” Jisoo tells him jokingly, with a squeeze of his hand. Jeonghan just about throws his head back and cackles, swearing at him after.
All the way to the bus stop Jeonghan throws out names of popular solo singers that he thinks he can be the second of if he does become a singer. Rain, Se7en, IU. What if I’ll be the next G-Dragon , Jeonghan muses, and Jisoo laughs in his face, saying Jeonghan might look good with a long orange wig.
Jisoo lets him sit and blocks the sun from shining in his face by standing in front of him while they wait for the bus. When Jeonghan shivers from the cold and opens his arms, Jisoo shuffles closer so Jeonghan can wrap his arms around his waist for a moment.
“So you’re going for the audition?”
“It sounds fun, doesn’t it?” Jeonghan hums, playing with Jisoo’s cold fingers. Then he adds after an afterthought, “I think I will, if my mom will let me go.”
“She probably will. She’s been wanting you to get out of the house for ages.”
“Fuck off.” Jeonghan laughs, this loud, unabashed thing. A puff of air materializes and evaporates in front of him. His energy is infectious today, and Jisoo can’t help but smile back.
When the bus arrives, they clamber to the back where it’s warmer, since both their stops are at the end of the line anyway. They’re still holding hands, and Jeonghan leans against Jisoo’s shoulder while he looks at the window. It’s fogging up outside.
Jisoo is hit with a sudden fear, when the bus is on the move and they’re already five stations away from where they got on.
Will Jeonghan have to leave school if he becomes a trainee? Will they ever get moments like this again? He’s heard about idol trainees’ schedules being so packed they can barely sleep. A lot of them drop out of school. Will Jisoo even ever see Jeonghan again?
Will they have to break up?
He doesn’t realize his hold is tightening on Jeonghan’s hand, until Jeonghan’s head is turning towards him.
He says dryly, so Jisoo knows he isn’t actually hurting him. “Ow, my hand. Ouch. Owie.”
“Sorry.” Jisoo quickly lets go, looking down at Jeonghan. Jeonghan’s eyes are half-closed, so he must have been napping already. There’s a little smile on Jeonghan’s face, sleepy and warm. “Sorry I woke you up.”
Jeonghan snorts and closes his fingers around Jisoo’s hand again, tugging on it so they’re on his lap. He has a hotpack on his lap. “What’s got you thinking?”
“It’s nothing,” Jisoo immediately says, shaking his head. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s almost your stop.”
“Yes, please,” Jeonghan smiles again, soft, as he turns to face the window again. His shoulders rise as he bites back a yawn before he snuggles closer to Jisoo’s shoulder. “Love you, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Jeonghan only laughs and a surge of fondness warms Jisoo’s heart. He leans over to press a gentle kiss on the top of Jeonghan’s head, wrapping his arm tighter around Jeonghan.
But soon enough, the fondness fades and he goes to looking out the opposite window, basking in his sudden terrifying newfound realization that this whole thing with Jeonghan might not last longer than the school year. It’s selfish, he knows, but he can’t help but want it to last. Jeonghan is pretty and perfect and everything Jisoo ever wanted, and Jisoo is seventeen and in love.
Jeonghan goes to the audition the next Monday after class. He’s wearing a short green jacket—his ‘lucky padding’ —over his uniform, and he’s holding onto Jisoo’s hand far too tight until he has to go into the building on his own for his audition. Someone offers Jisoo an application form, too, but he turns it down.
This is Jeonghan’s time to shine. He was the one casted, not Jisoo.
When Jeonghan comes out of the company building about two hours later, he literally runs across the road to the cafe where Jisoo is waiting with a cup of chocolate and a honey almond pastry packed and ready to go. Jisoo already finished his earlier on while waiting, scrolling through his phone and ignoring the quick, heavy thumping of his heart because nerves .
Then he goes straight into Jisoo’s arms, burying his face into Jisoo’s shoulder; Jisoo’s chair almost tumbles back if he wasn’t fast enough to dig his feet into the dirt to steady them.
He’s about to ask what went wrong? when he can feel Jeonghan smiling into his shoulder through the fabric of his jacket, Jeonghan’s cold cheek pressing against his own.
“I’m in,” Jeonghan says, pulling back and straightening. His eyes are sparkling, and he’s grinning so wide. His hands have moved to clutch Jisoo’s hands, and Jisoo can feel his hands trembling. They’re cold, too. “I got in, fuck —”
“Oh my god,” Jisoo says, eyes widening. It sounds like it’s coming from a different person. “Congratulations, baby. You did it!”
Jeonghan just about giggles, then he’s launching himself into Jisoo’s arms again; Jisoo’s hand immediately goes to pet the back of Jeonghan’s head. “I fucking did it.”
It only really sinks in later when Jeonghan is showing him the recording he took of his audition, when they’re sitting at a roadside tent and eating spicy rice cakes and steaming fish cakes off cheap plastic bowls. He wasn’t supposed to be allowed to record, but he reasoned it out for personal improvement or whatever, and the company must have really wanted him as a trainee, because aside from accepting him right away, they took his phone and recorded his audition alongside their official cameras.
Jeonghan’s voice is trembling in the video when he introduces himself, and he smiles and laughs awkwardly when they’re asking him questions. When he starts singing, though, his voice is soft and confident—exactly as they practiced, in Jisoo’s room on afternoons carved out specifically just so Jeonghan could rehearse his prepared song.
He’s stiff when they ask him to dance, but Jisoo can hear the company executives laughing and complimenting him under their breaths through the video.
A weird combination of pride and fear settles into Jisoo’s chest, and he feels a lump rise in his throat when he looks up at Jeonghan when the video ends. His hair is messy from the wind, and Jeonghan’s eyes are sparkling. He looks so proud of himself. Jisoo’s proud of him, too, despite how scared he is for Jeonghan and himself and this thing between them.
“You’re beautiful.” Jisoo finds himself saying, meaning every word.
Jeonghan’s face immediately colors, and he chokes over nothing in particular. Jisoo pushes over the bottle of water they’re sharing. “You can’t just say that!”
“You are,” Jisoo insists, swallowing the lump in his throat. He reaches for a piece of rice cake, saying, “Everyone’s going to love you when you debut,” before popping it into his mouth and letting the spice coat his tongue.
Jeonghan snorts, “I only just signed the contract today.”
“Still. I know you’ll be the best.”
“And you’ll be my number one fan, right?”
“Front row in all of your shows.”
Jeonghan’s smile is blinding as he reaches over for Jisoo’s hand again. Jisoo ignores the tightening in his chest. It's a weird feeling, something crawling up the back of his throat and making him want to cough it out until his throat bleeds, and that's more reason to ignore it, isn't it?
He wishes the rice cakes were spicier.