Chapter Text
Yeosang knows how the some of the fans see him.
Aloof. Distant. Awkward, even. Sweet, but they also consider him to be bland. He's pretty, that much is made very clear to everyone all the time. So much so that sometimes Yeosang has trouble looking at himself in the mirror because he can only see the way he's supposed to look. Other than that, his entire pitch is to always be just a bit obtuse about things. It's funny, he guesses, for there to be a member that doesn't ever know what's going on.
He's a good actor, and it's relatively harmless, and it makes his members laugh when he pairs an innocent smile with a head turn and blank-eyed confusion. It makes them laugh because they know, unlike some fans, that he's sharp as a tack in many areas of thought. It's just easier to follow directions and be the ditzy, pretty one.
(Well - it's easier when you feel pretty. Some days all he can hone in on is the ditzy part, and those are the rough days.)
But otherwise, Yeosang is fine with this arrangement. Really, he is. He knows that Hongjoong stresses out about it a lot; worried about his members and whether or not they can handle their roles in the group as well as their assigned labels and heavily exaggerated, acted traits outside of it, but Yeosang has never taken it to heart.
He knows what he is. He knows what he isn't. He knows what he likes and what he deserves and what he wants.
And the thing that he values most? The thing that he needs? It isn't a curated image. It isn't a glamorous, extravagant career. It's his members knowing that he, despite what story their company and all these reality shows try to tell, knows them well and loves them dearly. All the way down to the bottom of his heart. And that he is willing to show it however he can whenever they need.
It doesn't matter how many reality programs he pretends to forget San's birthday on. It doesn't matter how many trivia questions he flubs about Jongho's favorite songs. He's the first person to text his members on their special days. He's the first person to take a photo of something that reminds him of them. He knows them, from head to toe, inside and out. And he loves them just the same.
Taking Seonghwa's bag from him when his shoulder aches from rehearsal. Petting San's hair on a late night when he can't sleep. Leading Jongho to the bathroom so he doesn't forget his skincare as he's prone to doing. He wants to be a person that his members can rely on to always care for them exactly how they need. He wants them to think he can read their minds. That's how well he wants to treat them, and does.
“Where's my–”
“Seonghwa-hyung put your shoes by the door.” Yeosang says easily, watching Wooyoung spin around, searching frantically. Wooyoung stops. Focuses. Sees them there. Yeosang gets the pleasure of seeing the stress completely melt out of his best friend, and then sees Wooyoung focus on him in gratitude.
“Thank you,” he's very dramatic, taking quick steps forward to cup Yeosang's cheeks and smack a dizzying kiss to his nose.
“You’re welcome,” Yeosang says, blinking. He smiles when Wooyoung turns away so he isn’t tempted to do it again. It pleases him though, to receive their thank-yous however they come. Jongho’s soft eye contact when Yeosang talks for him to the log-book; Seonghwa’s gentle hair caress when Yeosang tidies up after he has solo schedules; or even Hongjoong simply saying it outright when Yeosang takes tasks off his overloaded plate.
It makes him warm inside to know that his members always see him for what he is – even when no one else does.
Mingi comes tumbling down the stairs, hair messy, face puffy with sleep. He’s half in clothes for the day, wrestling with them because he snoozes his alarm until the last second and then ends up rushing to get ready. Yeosang makes a note to knock on his door on mornings when he wakes up before him.
“There are kimchi pancakes on the stove,” Yeosang says, making Mingi stop. He looks at Yeosang for a moment, processing. Mingi is tough, Yeosang thinks, because sometimes he, like Jongho, gets caught in the past. He forgets that he isn't younger, isn't sitting alone at lunch waiting for Yunho to find him. He thinks Yunho is the only person in the world that can truly love him, and Yeosang sees that as a healthy challenge. Mingi deserves many people who know him that deeply. Yeosang will be one of them.
“I know they’re your favorite," Yeosang explains, "but you never get to have breakfast because there’s no time. And – well, I know how hard it is to focus when you’re hungry.”
Mingi’s mouth turns down and his eyes get big. Those are Yeosang’s only warnings before Mingi lumbers over and envelops him in a tight hug. “My favorite –” he says into Yeosang’s hair. He sounds touched. “You remembered.”
Yeosang slowly hugs him back, warm from his head to his toes.
Suddenly, Mingi pulls back, taking Yeosang’s hand. “Come. Eat with me. Please?”
Yeosang hesitates. This is hard for him; has been hard for him for the past couple of weeks. But he takes a breath, understanding that this is Mingi’s thank you for caring about him; to let him care for Yeosang back would be taking care of him further.
"Okay," Yeosang agrees, smiling. "I'll eat with you."