Chapter Text
"Soaping together
is sacred to us.
Washing each other's shoulders.
You can fuck anyone —
But with whom can you sit in water?"
—Ilya Kaminsky, Deaf Republic.
He's nodding off in the airport lounge, facemask itching right below his left ear, and a baseball cap snugly fixed to his greasy hair.
There are very few sensations he hates more than what feels like a kilogram of clip-ons pinching his scalp for hours on end for weeks. Unfortunately, it was the only sensible compromise to accommodate his schedule. He had counted his blessings, glad to not grow his own hair out but right now as he sat in the uncomfortable lounge chair, leather sticking to his palm as he willed himself to not itch the back of his head, he wondered if it was worth it. He knows no one will grant him the mercy of leaving the resulting welts be if he loses this endurance test, so he holds back. Digs his nails deeper into his palm until the corners of his eyes sting with wetness.
Taking out his phone, hoping for a distraction, he checks the network & lets it ping after connecting for a few seconds until it stops vibrating. Eyes glazing over as he swipes away the miscellaneous app banners, Instagram and Weibo notifications, and Baemin offers.
세븐틴 members has 78 new messages
It's easy to scroll past most of the earlier messages. He spoke with Seungkwan just last night. General headcounts for practices, schedules, Chan asking if anyone wants overpriced coffee from the airport cafeteria.
The last four messages though are directed at him, an hour or so ago.
Dokyeommie 10:21
@You hyung when will you get here????
let us know before you take off
*dog with luggage sticker*
we ate squid without you (ง ื▿ ื)ว
Jeonghan hyung 10:26
Eat something before the flight Jun-ah
He types out hasty replies, faintly hearing the boarding call for their Tokyo 12:20. Craning his neck around for manager Hyung, as he types the rest of it. People are moving about listless since the flight after theirs was announced to be delayed. Their manager is a short man, he gives up quick.
should get there at 18:10
boarding soon
→ replying to We ate squi…
ill just make you eat with me again
→replying to Eat somethin…
hyung is getting us food right now
As if summoned by the mention, said man thrusts a chicken roll into his face before the messages are even sent. An Americano planted precariously on the armrest. He's red in the face, panting but otherwise unharmed by the handful of fansites he waved at as they came in. He pays Junhui no mind as he starts collecting the luggage and checking their tickets one last time.
It goes as smoothly as it usually does. He's too busy getting things in order, to pay any attention to his head throbbing just enough to be felt no matter how relaxed he appears on the outside. He sends a quick message to the group chat when he's finally in his seat.
boarded, save hyung some ikayaki dokyeom-ah
A flight attendant is kind enough to get him a glass of water as her coworker’s safety demonstration drones on. He can perform it with her at this point in his life.
When he unlocks his phone one last time to power off, he has two new messages.
Seungcheollie ♡ 11:47
Safe skies
Attached is a picture of what he can guess is the leader's hotel balcony, a socked foot peeking in the frame. The city's hustle-bustle is muted over the singular frame, the skies are clear.
He takes a quick picture of the runway out the window as the flight attendant walks down the aisle reminding people to turn their phones off and sends it off without looking.
see you soon
The flight is a breeze both in the sense that it’s less than half a day of flying and that he’s able to pop a melatonin gummy and conk out for all of it without the headache plaguing him into unconsciousness. He had started classifying these travels in his head around year four of their careers, the short ones are too short to get anything substantial like reading or catching up on piling emails done but perfect for longer than acceptable naps while on the long ones, he cranks down on admin work or catching up he’s always too swamped to do otherwise, a pretty great system in his very biased opinion.
When they land, he’s still blinking away sleep so it takes him until they get in the car and are halfway to Osaka to check his phone. It’s teetering too close to needing a charge, but he’s able to send a message on Weverse as well as check the group chat where the members have taken to discussing sightseeing plans. The private message that blinks on the notification bar makes him jerk, more from the unexpected sender than the flashing.
明浩 18:30
Did you get to sleep on the flight?
It's straightforward, bordering on too formal as most messages from the younger are. Minghao doesn’t message people much in general, much less people he spends so much time in close proximity with, even if they are friends…family at this point, dare he say.
Their last text conversation is from more than a month ago, discussing a choreo they were going through with Soonyoung and Chan. He tries, has been trying especially the past few months to ignore the charged tension between them. It’s different than the younger’s behaviour towards Coups, he’s noticed. He sends the usual amount of cat stickers to the younger. Hugs him the appropriate amount. Isn’t too hard on him when he suggests a move that’s too incongruent with what they’ve set in stone already. Tries hard to sidestep the glances he knows everyone notices. Chugs on the conversations even when he can tell Minghao’s are eyes wandering to his lips, to their leader’s arm resting around his waist, to Seungcheol’s rosy cheeks after he’s had one too many drinks.
He’s still thinking about how to respond when a second private conversation reinvigorates.
Seungcheollie 18:32
Hyung said you landed, we’re taking votes on what to get for dinner
I could be pursued into splitting your choice
For a price, of course ;)
He chuckles, glancing at the seat beside him where their manager is already dead to the world after confirming details with the driver.
What’s the options?
*sticker of a cat yelling ‘HUNGRYYYY’*
Seungcheollie 18:33
Italian
Or 711 but no one’s backing wonwoo on that one
*sticker of a cat laughing maniacally*
there has to be a way for us to expand his palette
Risotto?
Seungcheollie 18:34
There’s risotto ai funghi porcini on the menu
We should leave that to his girlfriend, we’ve tried enough
sounds good to me
*sticker of a cat saying yummy*
→ replying to We should leav…
aw don’t be like that
Seungcheollie 18:34
Ordered 👍
He’s dragging Shua to get his 711
He sends back a sticker of two cats banging their heads on a table and hearts the first message before exiting the conversation. It takes him a couple seconds to actually gather the strength to open the chat with Minghao again, but he’s able to do it in the end. He types a few variations, writing and deleting messages that are essentially the same with the words rearranged until his battery flashes the thin red bar in the corner. He reads over the last message and hits send, turning the phone off entirely when it goes through. Rests his head on the car window, letting the highway pass by as sleep takes purchase again.
yes, see you soon
He’s informed they’re sharing six two beds as the two managers finish the charge handoff. Read: Hyung who arrived with him is going to sleep until they leave for the fanmeet tomorrow morning while this one stays in the lounge “looking after” twelve grown men. He's assigned rooming with Mingyu and his luggage is already in the room.
This manager is newer, younger. Company assigned. He doesn’t look the members in the eye when talking and steers clear of Seungcheol out of self-preservation more than starry-eyed admiration like the rest. He stands at a stiff attention beside him in the elevator and holds the iPad too close to his face for someone who's already wearing glasses. They reach the sixteenth floor in stony silence. The manager offers him his carry-on from a distance and steps back into the elevator as soon as his fist is closing on the strap.
Jihoon is standing outside a door to the left when they exist. Looks up at him as he approaches, and smiles in a way that is reminiscent of a different time from their lives. They exchange a quick hug as he leads them away from the door bearing the numbers on the keycard he’s given.
1608.
Junhui’s always been fond of his members. It's a decision he makes every day, a desiderate that flows through his veins every moment he’s away from them. He likes to think he has already learned everything about them that he would need in the past decade or so.
And yet.
And yet, he jumps three feet in the air with a pitchy yelp when Soonyoung jumps on him as soon as the door opens.
There's a smattering of laughter from everyone else in the room. Someone picks up the duffle he dropped and deposits it on the bed. Vernon joins the hug Soonyoung releases him from after a tightly wound “Enough, let him go you idiot!” from Jihoon.
He greets everyone after his heart rate returns to normal, clutching Vernon’s sleeve a little too tight until everyone settles back into their perches around the room. There’s a brimming food cart strategically placed in the centre from one of the beds to the sitting area for easy access. Everyone is gathered here, minus Wonwoo and Jisoo who he assumes are still on the 711 run.
His eyes meet Seungcheol’s as he’s leaning down to press a kiss on Seungkwan’s forehead. Seungkwan grins up at him and lightly nudges him out of the hug and in the direction of the bed where his boyfriend is sitting cross-legged.
Seungcheol receives him with the same wide-eyed adoring grin he usually does. Wraps his arms around Junhui’s middle and pulls him closer with an exaggerated hmm of satisfaction. The teasing oohs and aahs stopped a while after they formally announced this but blood rushes to his face all the same. He lets his hands drape around the broad shoulders under him, feels Seungcheol’s breath fan his belly through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing as he threads his fingers through the growing hair on the nape of his neck. The older man is quick to tug him in on the mattress, arm circling his middle and lips brushing his cheek in a featherlight kiss. Appropriate enough for company and yet unmistakable tender in execution. Homecoming is gratifying with Seungcheol on the other side, no matter where life stands. He has gotten softer over the past months, pliant under his sturdy touch.
He doesn’t notice him at first. Partly because he’s too busy getting comfortable in Seunghceol’s side and partly because the man has shrunk back into the pillows in the few minutes it took him and Seungcheol to greet each other in whispered words. Minghao’s hair is tied up in a half-ponytail, face bare as he holds up his plate, folking carbonara in his mouth faster than he has ever deemed acceptable, even in their trainee days. His gaze doesn't waver, as if challenging Junhui to speak up. To ask, to tell. To acknowledge.
The chatter in the room carries through this pregnant pause between them as Seungcheol makes him a plate, either oblivious or pointedly overlooking the weighted stares.
If he was less tired maybe he would speak up. If it was just them in this room, Mingyu’s cackling laughter not reverberating beside them, bar utensils clinking as Soonyoung obnoxiously blew into his coke to annoy Jihoon. If Seungheol returned his look instead of piling his plate with the requested risotto and a slice of pizza they surely didn't account for him eating.
“Jun.” he hears but is unable to turn, to break first. Minghao has finished his morsel, making no effort to continue his meal. If not for the rhythmic taps of his folk against the plate, he would be frozen in place.
The hand that was on his hip is now on his forearm, Seungcheol turns him gently.
“Junhui.”
There’s no acknowledgment of what transpired but the way his lips twitch from the effort to hold back tips him off enough. It's one of those tells he never managed to get rid of, Junhui’s certain no one else knows of it either, at least publically. Perhaps Jihoon. Jeonghan, maybe after the first few years.
He takes the proffered plate when it becomes apparent feeding him is the only thing that will get Seungcheol to move on to other pressing matters. He visibly relaxes once Junhui picks up the spoon and so he takes a few bites to appraise the questioning glances he keeps throwing during the conversation with Dokyeom. Let the plate rest on his lap and wrap a palm around Seungcheol's bouncing knee. It makes him look back at him for a few seconds and then he returns his attention to the story Dokyeom is sharing.
There's a tightness to his shoulders when everyone is around, especially when everyone is around. A stiffness that is easily read as composure, mistaken for vainglory. He can practically see the checklist he's making up in his head to go over with during the next meeting.
Dinner started early and will end earlier accounting for the packed day tomorrow. Wonwoo and Jisoo return already done with their food and demand snacks they're sure he's brought & is hiding from them. He manages to ward them off at least until they are done with the fansign tomorrow, no need for that particular crash now. It's only when Mingyu starts listing on the loveseat that they call it a night, gathering their trash and piling dishes on the cart haphazardly.
He goes to collect Seungcheol's plate, realising for the first time since he walked in that the older hasn't eaten, not even a spoonful from his own servings. Predictably, he had polished off the risotto amid conversation, and the guilt of not noticing settled heavy in his stomach. There's no plate besides his own and Minghao’s on the bed. He feels around just in case and comes up empty.
It must show on his face because Minghao answers that particular thought, “It's the diet.”
He can't help the sour look that statement elicits from him, one even sucking lemons doesn't bring out, “He needs to–”
“He wants to do it.” Minghao interrupts.
“He just recovered, he needs the nutrition more.” He argues, peeved. Knows there are better ways to express it than terse quips. So does Minghao.
“He's been on it for a month, I think someone would've noticed if it was making him sick.”
There are situations he's familiar with in his line of work. Situations where he makes compromises, Seungcheol makes compromises. Times when they remind themselves that they knew things can and will transpire outside of their control. Times when they will question if this risk was worth it.
He believes it is. He desperately begs Minghao’s heart to give way for the same.
“I'll talk to him.” It's the coward's way out and he knows it. Thinks he's allowed this one grace when it comes to Xu Minghao.
Minghao doesn't deign that with a response as he walks out.
He watches crayon shinchan while applying his skincare for no other reason than to keep himself from doing something uncouth such as picking a fight with his boyfriend the night before they need to be up at dawn for work or…or seek out Minghao’s company. Seek solace in fretting over Choi Seungcheol in a clandestine manner perhaps unbecoming of them as contributing members of the group.
Just as he's getting ready to step into the bathtub, however, there's an insistent knock on the door.
At first, he's confused, since Mingyu has a keycard but most importantly, is currently dead to the world on the loveseat in Vernon and Jisoo's room. The only other option would be one of the managers and dread fills him at the prospect of having to converse with the one currently awake. Regardless, he ties up the hotel robe snugly around himself and opens the door. The quicker this is over the better.
Seungcheol is standing against the doorframe with a granola bar hanging in his mouth. He gives Junhui a weak smile, offering the remainder of his snack to him. In the hallway’s yellowing light, his eyebags sink into his cheeks, make the veins in his arms singe a prussian hue of prolonged fatigue.
He shakes his head in negative and moves away from the door to let the man in. Heads to the sitting area instead of getting to his bath. Seungcheol is subdued. Doesn’t say a word as he walks over to lay his head in his lap. They sit like that for a few minutes, listening to the crickets chirp. He lifts a hand to Seungcheol’s chest, tentatively placing it on his chest, over his heart. The older doesn’t make a move to avert from the touch and shifts higher in his lap with a sigh.
He mentally goes over every question he’s been wanting to ask. Wonders if any of them are pressing enough to be discussed now. He’s been away for a while, lots got done during. They try to be smart with their time, schedule video calls and play stupid matching games against each other an ocean over. He has seen Kkhuma more than his own mother the last month, can’t bring himself to hate the little mutt no matter that she keeps stealing Seungcheol’s attention away when she lives with him and Junhui is beholden to the whims of a prepaid sim with questionable data reach. Their relationship has been a crowd of three, Seungcheol, him, and KakaoTalk. The boyfriend in question finds it hilarious, "better KakaoTalk than this peanut gallery" he had said, switching the camera back to two unidentifiable members rolling on the practice room floor together.
Seungcheol, done with his granola bar, takes aim at the wastebin at the other corner of the room, chin jutting out at an awkward angle.
“Don’t —” he starts, watching the wrapper land unfortunately close to the basket.
Seungcheol hisses over the loss, getting off Junhui’s lap to sit up. Stretches with enough effort to concern. “One day I’ll get it.” he declares, like he has every time for the past ten or so years.
He hmms indulgently. “Did you eat?” he finally broaches, reaching for his hand.
He lets Junhui tangle their fingers together as he hmms, “I had some of your risotto, Myungho gave me two of those.” he points to the wrapper on the floor with the unoccupied hand.
“Some?” he questions skeptically, well aware of his tactics.
“Well,” he leers, shuffling closer, “A few spoonfuls classifies as some, doesn’t it?”
He wants to rebuke that it doesn’t, knows that Seungcheol knows he does. He stays mum.
“I’m eating enough to take my doses,” he reassures Junhui, taking his other hand.
He nods, knowing any more of this will regurgitate similar arguments on both sides. Arguments that have happened between them, reasonings switching sides every couple of months. Arguments they’ve had together and against every member. Not uniquely frustrating, a recurring noxious undertaking they commit to ever so often.
“I have to bathe.” he goes to get up, it's almost midnight anyway.
Seungcheol comes with. Holding onto his hand, limping the slightest bit and excusing it with an all too familiar, “All the sitting today.” Takes station at the edge of the hotel tub. Silently observing as he shrugs off the robe.
He lets him bully him into sitting still in the tub as he suds up the shampoo, cold porcelain against his bare skin making him shiver. At the first rush of lukewarm water, he reaches out instinctively to hold onto Seungcheol’s leg behind him. Tries not to press too hard, still afraid to hurt.
“Did you turn the setting on? Why is it so cold?” he murmurs after.
“No,” Seungchoel gruffs, gently running his fingers on his scalp, “Gonna give you hypothermia.” Another spray of the shower, warmer now. Fingers dancing in methodical circles on the back of his head.
“Think that will give me three days off in a row?” he jokes, trying to turn around only to be swatted on the shoulder. Seungcheol’s hands travel lower from his head until they’re wrapping around his jaw, caressing his neck as he turns him to face forward again. A few bubbles slid down his neck, settling into his collarbone.
“I’ll get you a week after you’re done filming.” The promise woven into it isn’t lost on Junhui.
“Mhmm, a week in Shenzhen sounds great right now.” Cheol’s moving farther down now, palm caressing his ears as he massages. He leans into the touch, letting himself press back onto the edge. Feeling the heat of Seungcheol’s skin as the back of his thigh brushes his shoulder. “Get everyone a week off.”
“You think I’m a magician, huh?” he chuckles.
“Come with me,” he continues, “I’ll take you sightseeing.”
“Ah, Myungho was telling me about the antique market in Luohu…” Seungcheol replies, oblivious to the roiling in his stomach at the mention of the younger’s name. He lets the older finish a recount of their conversation from yesterday, something about replicas of teapots from the Imperial Family.
Seungcheol rinses the shampoo off, holding a palm above his eyes and Junhui feels an earnest need to smile at the treatment. “We’ll go together, the three of us.” he finishes, taking a dollop of conditioner from the packet.
“Yeah,” He sighs. Resigned to his fate, dropping his head back to lock with guileless warm eyes, “The three of us.”