Work Text:
One.
Seungkwan is already dripping with sweat when he finally stumbles into Jihoon’s penthouse apartment.
The cool whoosh of the air-conditioner when he opens the door feels like heaven on his heated skin. Seoul is roasting in the middle of June and the 5-minute walk from his manager’s car to Jihoon’s building already has him soaking through the back of his shirt.
Hence, the luxurious cool air almost makes him miss the pair of sneakers — way too big to be Jihoon’s — haphazardly sprawled along the entrance of the apartment. Although he does trip over one of them, to be fair.
“Hyung! I’m here!” He calls out from the door, as he slips off his own shoes.
The sneakers do look familiar, but Seungkwan doesn’t pay them any more mind as he hears Jihoon’s voice ring out, “in the kitchen!”
This is the first time Seungkwan has ever stepped foot into Jihoon’s house, and it’s exactly how he imagines his clean, reserved hyung to be.
Sleek, monochrome furniture fit the living room, except for the large red sofa that catches his eye first. A grand piano is showcased near the entrance, and the only things that make his place a little more home-y are the various pictures of his friends and family lined along the long TV console.
Seungkwan spots a framed picture from his graduation ceremony with his parents, and another one of him with Soonyoung, Junhui and Wonwoo at a restaurant, all baby-faced and smiling.
He does a double take at the acoustic guitar propped up on a stand beside the piano. He swears he’s seen the exact same model in Hansol’s studio the day before — or maybe, he just can’t tell guitars apart, all acoustic guitars look the same anyway. Just different shades of brown, Seungkwan thinks then inwardly shudders at the thought of Jisoo-hyung’s eyes bulging out as he fumes at him for not being able to differentiate guitars. Whatever, he shall never know.
A faint meow has Seungkwan looking down, and a fluffy grey cat circles his ankle before stalking away toward one of the rooms. He can’t remember whether that is Rang-i or Ddung-i.
“Made you some too,” Jihoon pipes up when Seungkwan heads over to the spacious kitchen right beside the living room. He is referring to the ramen boiling in the pot he is stirring, open packets of seasoning scattered on his counter.
Seungkwan settles on one of the chairs at Jihoon’s marble kitchen island, a retort about maintaining his diet dying in his throat when Jihoon shoots him a withering look. He knows Jihoon hates that the company is making him go on this diet, and he swears the older has been scolding his manager about it behind his back.
“Is that Neoguri?” Seungkwan says instead, as Jihoon opens another packet. “Hansol has been begging the company to stock more of those in the pantry.”
Jihoon scoffs as he adds the seasoning into the pot, “he’s already stocked plenty here. He needs to find another food hyperfixation.”
“Huh.”
Seungkwan frowns and muses out loud, intently watching Jihoon open the fridge to grab a coke zero. He offers one to Seungkwan but he shakes his head, not a big fan of coke.
“ — or d’you want one of the juices Hansol’s been obsessed with? I don’t really touch those, they’re way too sweet,” Jihoon asks, as he scans the drinks in his fridge, cracking open the tab on his red can.
There is a question on the tip of Seungkwan’s tongue, but he is also a little bit terrified of Jihoon half the time so he reels himself back. He takes mental notes though, eyes darting all over Jihoon’s kitchen, hiding his surprise, to find Hansol’s favourite chips in a cabinet near the sink and Japanese beer — that Seungkwan knows Hansol enjoys — stuffed in the fridge.
Jihoon doesn’t even drink.
“Just water is fine,” Seungkwan finds himself saying.
Jihoon gives him a shrug and grabs a mug from his drawer — and Seungkwan pretends he doesn’t see Hansol’s old college logo on one of them — to fill it up with water for him.
“What.”
“....huh?” Seungkwan blinks his eyes back to Jihoon’s piercing expression. He straightens up immediately, involuntarily choking on a gulp.
Cocking an eyebrow, Jihoon places the mug in front of him, “you were side-eyeing me.”
Seungkwan curses his inability to suppress his facial expressions, and splutters out a hasty laugh, “just hot y’know, it’s hot outside.”
Jihoon drops his scary facade instantly, his eyes rounding out, “shit, did you want iced water?”
“No, no, no, it’s fine, hyung,” Seungkwan stammers, hands coming up to grip his mug. Though, Jihoon has already drifted back to the fridge.
“Dammit,” Jihoon snaps when he opens his freezer. “Hansol finished all the ice again.” And then sighs, “sorry Kwannie, I gotta refill the ice trays.”
As he goes to take out the ice trays, he instructs Seungkwan to stir the noodles and add the eggs in. Seungkwan readily complies, snapping out of the very intrusive thoughts of his best friend and his pseudo-boss possibly —
“I think they’re done, hyung.”
Seungkwan turns off the stove and in a minute, he is sat opposite Jihoon on his kitchen island, sharing a pot of instant ramen together.
He hasn’t eaten ramen in a while because of his diet so the first bite feels divine to him. His manager isn’t here to tell him off and he can always hide behind his Jihoon-hyung anyways.
Jihoon has brought over his macbook, now propped up in between them — the whole reason why Seungkwan is here in the first place — to discuss some final touches for Seungkwan’s upcoming single. Usually it would be at the Universe Factory, but Jihoon told him he had to feed his cats so their meeting location was shifted to his Gangnam apartment instead.
Seungkwan chews on his noodles, focusing as Jihoon starts talking, pushing aside the unprofessional questions he has for the older to the back of his mind.
He can’t wait to talk to Soonyoung-hyung right after this meeting, though.
Two.
Soonyoung gives a whooping cheer when the song ends, and rushes towards his phone to turn off the recording. Through the mirror, he watches Hansol groan out and flop onto the wooden floor of the dance studio.
He feels slightly bad for asking Hansol to help out tonight, but he ran out of options when Chan and Junhui had already left the company for the night.
Soonyoung knows he has a habit of staying late to practice or choreograph, and he would much prefer to do it with company but unfortunately, the only time he actually needed a partner to help him out, everybody decided to be a typical corporate worker and clock out at their usual timing.
Furthermore, ever since Jihoon got his cats, he has never stayed too late in the Universe Factory anymore. Good, because the guy is finally able to have a normal, healthy work-life balance. Bad, because now only Soonyoung looks like the insane workaholic.
So, he roped in the only other overtime worker at this hour — the clock glowed a glaring 2:47 — who was holed up in his studio, also cramming work. And if Soonyoung had to go on his knees and beg the younger while he was finishing up a track, Hansol is way too nice to make fun of him for it.
“Hyung…” Hansol whines from the floor. “Please tell me that was the last take.”
“I’ll take a look at it then we can go,” Soonyoung reassures him, back against the mirror, eyes locked on his phone.
“That’s what you said 3 takes ago,” Hansol grumbles and lugs himself off the floor to gulp down a bottle of water.
Soonyoung is currently working on a duo choreography for one of their boy group’s upcoming tour stages, and he needs to work out the details before showing the final product to his team the following afternoon. He was stuck in meetings all day and is only able to squeeze out some time tonight before the review.
It is a pretty vigorous dance, and he’s actually impressed to find Hansol keeping up with him throughout the hour they’ve been practicing. Hansol picked up the choreo within minutes, which is crazy considering even Soonyoung has a hard time remembering steps and he’s the one who’s been dancing as a career.
To be fair, Hansol’s the one who remixed and arranged the track for the performance so he already knew the beats like the back of his hand.
The video is perfect, and Soonyoung heaves a breath, “woah…”
“Huh?”
Hansol hands him a bottle as well, and Soonyoung just looks up at him incredulously before shaking his head, “can you quit music and join our crew?”
Hansol gives him a shuddering laugh, pushing his damp hair away from his face, “I think Jihoon-hyung might kill me.”
“I will steal you from him,” Soonyoung says with conviction, fixing him with a determined look. “How are you not a dancer?”
“Hyung, I told you,” Hansol whines again, flopping to sit beside him against the mirror. “I had been training for years before I got cut.”
“Okay, yeah,” Soonyoung begins, chuckling a little unbelievingly, “now I understand why Jihoon is crazy about you.”
Hansol frowns at this, a confused expression taking over his face, and Soonyoung now gives him a booming laugh. He tells him, “you guys are ridiculous.”
Before Hansol can come up with a retort, Soonyoung lifts himself off the floor and motions for the door.
“Let’s get out of here and eat something, hyung will treat you.”
They end up shuffling into Hansol’s studio for a minute so Hansol can grab a change of clothes because he complained about his sweat soaking through his white shirt.
Soonyoung has been in Hansol’s studio a couple of times, and even though it’s definitely not as spacious as the Universe Factory, it’s still pretty cool. It’s darker than Jihoon’s, but the soft blue lighting gives the whole room a dreamlike vibe.
He crashes onto the sofa immediately while Hansol goes to a cabinet to rummage through it. Soonyoung digs his phone out from his pocket, absentmindedly grabbing a throw pillow to hug as he sprawls across the wide berth of the sofa.
He makes himself comfortable, already opening up Instagram. He scrolls for a second before his eyes sweep down at the pillow smushed into his chest.
Huh.
It’s a cat pillow.
Jihoon has the same cat pillow at the Universe Factory. Actually, it’s his favourite pillow. Soonyoung knows this because Jihoon will hiss and paw at him like an actual cat when he tries to use that pillow in any capacity.
He holds the pillow out in front of him, examining it. The cogs are turning in his head. “‘Sol?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s Jihoon’s pillow doing here?”
Hansol glances back at Soonyoung inspecting the pillow and just shrugs, “he probably left it when he was here.”
Hansol finally rips a tank from deep within the recesses of his cabinet, and strips off his shirt to put it on. Soonyoung is still frowning at the pillow when the image of a familiar laptop on the small coffee table beside the sofa catches his eyes.
“When was Jihoon here?” He drops the pillow and reaches for the macbook. It has a glaring Universe Factory logo sticker stuck on it, and he gapes at Hansol, who is pulling off his cap to dry off his damp hair.
“Earlier tonight?” Hansol muses, running his fingers through his sweaty fringe. “He wanted to stay but he had to feed his cats.”
Soonyoung’s jaw drops. Jihoon never goes anywhere without his macbook. Probably half of their company’s tracks — released and unreleased — are stored in there.
“I forced him to leave it behind,” Hansol continues, casually gesturing to the abandoned laptop. He stuffs his wet t-shirt into his bag before saying, “or else he’ll just stay up till 4 am again to work.”
“What.” Soonyoung schools him with an incredulous look. Brows furrowed, he grits out, “you managed to get Jihoon — like our Lee Jihoon, Producer Woozi, that Jihoon — to leave his macbook behind.”
Hansol shrugs again, and Soonyoung half-expects him to quip, “what, like it’s hard?” but instead he just says, “he’ll come back for it tomorrow morning.”
Soonyoung’s respect for the kid grows, “you’re scary.”
Hansol harks out a scoff, “what are you even talking about?”
Soonyoung continues shaking his head, lips pursed, “stealing you from Jihoon would be harder than I thought.”
Hansol ignores him, slinging his bag over his shoulder and protesting, “can we go eat? I’m starving after dancing for so long.” Shooting up, Soonyoung follows after him towards the door, his usual cheeky grin back on his lips.
As he switches the lights off, Hansol chuckles lightly as an afterthought, “Jihoon doesn’t like to share anyways.”
Three.
Wonwoo grumbles once more when the heat coming off from the grill fogs up his glasses yet again. He passes the tongs to Junhui, who gives him a snort, so he can wipe his glasses on his shirt. Junhui takes over manning the grill, and Wonwoo is glad because he has given up, he hates having to clean his glasses continuously.
He picks up his chopsticks instead, nibbling on the kimchi laid out in front of him, musing, “when are the other two coming?”
It’s an unspoken tradition for their friend group to have dinner together every month, and the options are either this hole-in-the-wall BBQ restaurant or a Chinese hotpot place that Junhui discovered a year ago. But, the hotpot restaurant gets booked often and they could only get seats if they’re lucky. So, this month, they’re back at Ahjumma Kim’s BBQ.
It’s been more than 20 minutes since Wonwoo and Junhui have gotten a table and Soonyoung and Jihoon are still nowhere to be found —
Nevermind.
Wonwoo looks up and watches Soonyoung stumble through the doors with a backwards hat and a frazzled expression. He sheepishly bows to Ahjumma Kim at the counter and goes to join them at their regular spot.
“I’m sorry!” He moans, crashing onto the chair opposite Junhui and dropping his gym bag on the floor with a thud. “I wasn’t looking at the time, and the kids wanted to do a last run.”
“Did you run here?” Junhui asks, eyes locked on the pork belly on the grill before transporting one onto the plate in front of Soonyoung. His face splits into a grin, immediately picking up his chopsticks to pop the meat into his mouth.
“Well, duh,” Soonyoung says while chewing. “How – mmh – else was I gonna reach here on time?”
Wonwoo sighs, “don’t talk with your mouth full. Also, you’re 20 minutes late.”
“You didn’t get me rice?” Soonyoung pouts, scanning their table. Wonwoo just presses his lips into a thin line, “we didn’t know when you would arrive. Would you rather have cold rice?”
He proceeds to ask one of the staff for two more bowls of rice and Soonyoung’s eyes brighten up. Wonwoo shoves his bowl of rice towards Soonyoung, “here, you can some of mine first.”
“Jeon Wonwoo, you are the best. I am starving!”
“No thanks for me?” Junhui grouses. “I’m literally cooking your meat.”
“You too, Moon Junhui! I love you both very much!” Soonyoung all but yells, over the sound of sizzling meat. The table across from them glances over, and Wonwoo hides behind his hand. Soonyoung isn’t even drunk yet, and he’s already making a scene.
Junhui chuckles out a laugh while Wonwoo just mutters, “when is Jihoon coming?”
“Damn, if I would have known he wasn’t here yet, I would have checked the Universe Factory,” Soonyoung says, munching on the side dishes. “Can we order more beef first?”
“Did you not check your phone before rushing here?” Junhui scolds, pointedly waving his tongs at him. “We told you to check if Jihoon is still at the company.”
“Oh…” Soonyoung at least sounds guilty, “sorry…”
A sigh escapes Wonwoo’s lips again, “it’s fine, I’ll go call him.”
However, as Wonwoo is scrolling down his contact list to find Jihoon’s name, the doors of the restaurant swing open to reveal the man in question.
Jihoon staggers in in flip-flops and shorts, looking as if he just woke up. He has recently cut off his shaggy locks — due to a recent appearance at an award show in which the company had asked him to cut his hair, despite his complaints — and now his short hair is sticking out in various directions.
Wonwoo sees him first, and clocks the hoodie he’s wearing immediately, letting out a low snort. The others haven’t seemed to notice.
He looks every bit the grumpy disheveled kitten as he takes the last seat beside Soonyoung. He greets them with an incoherent sound and a tired scowl, ignoring the various looks from the three of them as he orders himself a zero coke. Wonwoo, amused. Junhui, jeering. Soonyoung, —
“Jihoon-ah!” Soonyoung exclaims in excitement while Wonwoo smirks, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Hello Jihoon-ssi. Enjoyed your nap?”
Jihoon gives him an impassive look. Though, he mutters out an apology, “I overslept, okay? Pulled an all-nighter yesterday to finish up the track for the MMA stage.”
“It’s okay, Jihoonie,” Junhui placates, putting another serving of beef on the grill. “Is the track done at least?”
He hums in affirmation, cracking open his zero coke when a staff brings it over. “I sent it over today before I took a nap.”
“Was it a good nap?” Wonwoo continues, unable to suppress the shit-eating grin growing on his face. “Nice hoodie.”
Jihoon bristles and immediately straightens with a huff, crossing his arms over the giant brand name logo strewn across the black oversized hoodie he’s wearing.
“Isn’t that Hansol’s hoodie?” Soonyoung quips up casually through a mouthful of rice.
It takes several seconds for him to swallow his food, and a few more for the lightbulb to turn on in his head before he is slamming the table with his hand, “hey, that’s Hansol’s hoodie!”
“Did he start drinking already?” Jihoon ignores the chopsticks pointed at him from beside, and gives Wonwoo a half-glare. The tips of his ears are turning red, and Wonwoo lets out an amused snort.
It’s not difficult to piece together. Wonwoo works with Hansol most of the time, having to be in charge of visual production for the boy group Hansol mainly produces for. And he knows for a fact that Hansol is always strolling into meetings in sweats and that particular hoodie. Soonyoung definitely knows as he spends the most time around Hansol, after Jihoon of course.
“Oh?” Junhui chimes in, belatedly understanding the joke. He doesn’t really see Hansol often enough to sense the change, Wonwoo notes.
“Shut up,” Jihoon mutters out, his cheeks flooding with heat. “I just threw on the first thing I could find.”
Amusement creeps over Junhui’s features. “And the first thing you could find is Hansol’s hoodie?”
“Where did you take your nap, Jihoonie?” Wonwoo presses on, reveling in the way Jihoon’s frown and blush deepen.
Soonyoung is the only one who looks concerned, chewing through another mouthful in deep thought. He finally speaks up, “did you sleep in Hansol’s studio again? Your pillow was there last time.”
His comment starts an uproar at their table. Wonwoo lets out a stranged choked-off noise, and Jun’s eyes light up in glee and screams at the reveal. Jihoon whips his head at him and balks, “wha- how do you know that?”
Wonwoo gapes at them while Junhui cackles like a hyena beside him. Jihoon merely sinks into his seat, hands covering his face as Soonyoung turns his head around and shouts across the room, “Ahjumma! We’ll order 3 bottles of soju!”
Four.
Joshua can feel a migraine coming on the longer he stays in this bar, and Hansol isn’t helping with his eyes continuously locked onto his phone instead of mingling around with potential producers around the room.
Their company sent both of them to Los Angeles for a conference with their US business partners, but specifically for Joshua to liaise some information regarding a possible collaboration. Hansol is there for moral support, Joshua guesses, though he can infer that Seungcheol wants Hansol to network with other US producers.
Joshua’s not supposed to be a babysitter but he feels like it. He has half a mind to confiscate Hansol’s phone, but he just sighs, continuing to nurse the gin and tonic in his hand, “how are you not jetlagged right now? ”
It’s reaching midnight, and the bar seems even more crowded than before. After the meeting with their business partners and the conference, they were invited here to the afterparty. Hansol whined his ear off, but Joshua managed to drag him here in the end, threatening to rat him out to Seungcheol.
It’s not like Joshua wants to be here either — he’s pretty sure he’s coming down with something — but they are in LA for the next two weeks, and he wants to finish whatever task they have quick so he can have time to visit his family.
So, if he has to babysit Hansol, he will wrangle him by the scruff like a kitten and force him to network.
Hansol lets out a derisive sound at his phone, and goes on to type furiously, and Joshua has enough of him. He goes to snatch his phone away and Hansol’s wide eyes sweep over to him, spluttering, “hyung!”
“Who are you even texting anyway?” Joshua glances at the screen and it’s opened to Hansol’s kakaotalk. “Jihoonie?”
He frowns, not sure if whatever they’re talking about is work-related, but it seems important by the telling fact that Hansol’s fingers haven’t left his phone for the whole night.
He vaguely remembers Seungkwan telling him something about the two of them, but he cannot recall the details. Seungkwan does have a particular interest in basically everybody’s private lives, to which Joshua does not share. But, that just deems the older the perfect person to spill all their company’s secrets to.
Seungkwan told him he had to stop telling Jeonghan because the guy kept spreading half-rumours. Though, what he doesn’t know is that Joshua shares Jeonghan’s astuteness and is not above using their secrets against them.
So, Joshua just shakes his head and lets out a sniff, handing back the phone to Hansol, warning, “if you don’t make a round around the room, I am telling Jihoon you’re slacking off.”
Hansol scrunches his brow into a slight frown — the same expression he wears when he’s focusing hard on something — and slides his phone into his jacket pocket. He steels Joshua with a petulant look, “don’t tell Jihoon.”
“No hyung?” They’re speaking in Korean now, and it’s jarring not to hear the honorific attached to his name from Hansol’s mouth.
Horror flashes across the younger’s eyes for a second, before he blinks it away, setting his jaw. It’s very unlike Hansol to get angry. Upset, yes. Annoyed, sometimes. But, there’s a spark of something akin to anger in his deep-set eyes that Joshua has rarely seen.
He prods anyway, “what are you guys fighting about?”
A heavy pause stretches between them as Hansol fixes his eyes pointedly away from his, biting the inside of his cheek. He sucks in a breath before replying, “nothing, it’s not important.”
Hmm.
Joshua merely stares at him as Hansol throws back his drink, like it’s a shot. Joshua doesn’t press further, but he does sigh, and tells him in English, “go do your round, then we can go back to the hotel.”
Hansol doesn’t need to be told twice, seemingly glad that he doesn’t have to continue their previous conversation. He immediately gets up from their table, and puts on his best dazzling smile, his heart-shaped lips stretched into a semi-natural grin.
Joshua watches as he goes back to the bar and approaches a couple of people who he recognises from the conference earlier.
He sips his drink.
Interesting. He can’t wait to see the look on Seungkwan’s face when he lets up his own share of information willingly once he gets back to Seoul.
Four and a half.
“Hyung!” Seungkwan says excitedly when he looks up from his phone and sees Joshua step out of the arrival doors, with Hansol in tow. “‘Sol!”
“Kwannie?” Joshua has a quizzical look on his face but he still wraps his hands around Seungkwan’s waist when the other throws his arms around his neck. “It’s 4 am, what are you doing here?”
Seungkwan doesn’t want to admit to him that he just misses the older’s presence for the past two weeks and hates the distance between them, even if it’s just temporary. At least, not in front of Hansol. Though, his friend in question cocks an eyebrow at him, seemingly already knowing.
So, he just huffs, “why can’t I just pick you up for once?”
Joshua laughs in his ear, clear and bright, despite the late hour. Usually, Seungkwan’s the one on tour and on a plane to somewhere. The reversal in roles is refreshing for him even though he had to stay up and wait in the plush seats at the airport for an hour. He may have dozed off a couple of times while waiting.
He can’t even suppress the yawn that he lets out and Joshua rubs his back as his brows crease, “poor thing, shall we head home now?”
“Mhmm, I drove here,” Seungkwan replies, rubbing his eyes. “‘Sol, do you need me to drop you off?”
“No, I’ll drive,” Joshua asserts. Seungkwan gives him an affronted look, but he just pouts in response, knowing Joshua won’t let him drive in his state anyway.
Hansol looks up from his phone, and blinks up at them. “Yeah, sure, if you’re not too tired, hyung.”
“I had plenty of sleep on the plane, I’ll be fine,” Joshua reassures him. Then, reveals, “I can drop you off first since Jihoon’s place is closer.”
Wait a minute.
Seungkwan’s brain halts, as his head whips towards Hansol who has the gall to glance at him sheepishly. His sleep-deprived state blurts out, “it’s 4 am, why the hell are you heading to Jihoon-hyung’s place?”
“Just– We need to discuss some things,” Hansol says gruffly. His lips are pressed in a thin line. Seungkwan is about to protest before Joshua moves in between them, patting him soothingly on the shoulder. He gives him a look that translates to “I’ll tell you more later”, and Seungkwan backs off Hansol.
Seungkwan sniffs, and relents, “I see. I hope you guys sort it out.”
He flashes Joshua a pout again, and Joshua motions for them to head to the carpark, “let’s just get home, I think we’re all tired.”
Five.
Seungcheol lets out a tired sigh when he finally dismisses the meeting, slumping back onto his chair. Joshua and Jeonghan stay back, speaking in hushed tones that he is too exhausted to try to listen in on right now. He needs a week’s vacation. Wait, scratch that, he needs a month off.
He’s still waiting for Junhui and Myungho to come back from China so he can start preparations for the upcoming Chinese debut of one of their groups, then he has to fly to Japan to discuss a company concert there.
Seungcheol loves his job, but being the CEO of an entertainment company is definitely hard work. Or at least being an involved and active CEO of one is. He can’t believe he has been doing this for almost two years. It doesn’t get any easier.
As the end of the year approaches, he’s been working nonstop with finalising the plans for their groups next year. But, that also means he has many more public appearances to make due to the various end-of-year award shows.
He’s so deep in thought — and exhaustion — that he doesn’t hear Joshua calling for his attention. He snaps out of his stupor only when Joshua kicks the back of his chair. “Huh?”
“I asked you,” Joshua says exasperatedly, visibly repressing a sigh, “if you’ve heard from Hansol?”
“‘Sol?” Seungcheol repeats, wracking his brain on what could possibly pertain to the younger producer. “About?”
“Please don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” Joshua warns, a hand coming up to massage his temple. “Hansol’s coming back from Paris today.”
Right, he had forgotten.
Honestly, Seungcheol is only able to keep his sanity for this long as CEO because Joshua and Jeonghan are by his side. Though, Jeonghan disappears and does background work most of the time. Meanwhile, Joshua is the one actually keeping Seungcheol in line.
Joshua continues, “we need him for the meeting with the sound engineers today.”
“And why am I involved in this?” Seungcheol asks stupidly, and that earns him another kick to his chair.
“If you want the Japan concert to happen at all, he better be in the room for that meeting. He’s your kid, you hired him!” Joshua’s eyes go wide, like how they always do when he’s annoyed. Seungkwan was right when he said it makes him look like a tired housewife scolding her husband.
Jeonghan lets out a snort, lazily reclining on his own chair, watching them. “He’s supposed to land last night actually,” he adds casually. “Hasn’t entered the building today.”
Seungcheol glances at the clock on the wall.
It’s 1 in the afternoon.
He lets out a deep sigh. It’s true, he was the one who hired Hansol back when he was just a newbie producer, fresh out of an idol trainee contract, when he was still doing underground rapping. Even Jihoon scoffed at him when he brought the kid on board, but now look who’s grown attached to —
“Have you checked with Jihoon?” Seungcheol asks.
Jeonghan’s face splits into a smirk as he informs him, “Jihoonie hasn’t turned up to work either.”
Joshua’s lips are pressed together in irritation while Seungcheol just frowns, “what? Jihoon isn’t in his studio? Don’t tell me he’s at the gym.”
Joshua waves the comment off, huffing out, “it doesn’t matter what Jihoon’s doing. I need Chwe Hansol here before the sound engineers come or I swear I will rip someone’s head off.”
“Have you tried calling him?”
Joshua fixes him with a deadpanned look. “What do you think I’ve been doing all morning?”
Seungcheol fishes his phone from his pocket, already unlocking it as Joshua raises an eyebrow at him. The familiar dial tone echoes in their large meeting room as Seungcheol presses Hansol’s number and puts his phone on speaker. The other just snorts at him, “I told you, I’ve already tried calling.”
A click.
The line connects.
Joshua looks like he’s ready to scream into the receiver when a voice that is clearly not Hansol’s deeper register mumbles out, “hullo?”
A pause stretches in the room before Jeonghan doubles over, laughing as Joshua lets out an incredulous sound. Seungcheol balks, “Jihoon?”
“...huh? Seungcheol?” Jihoon’s silvery voice flits out, his usually airy tone rough with sleep. Heavy rustling is heard through the speakers before Jihoon’s tone shifts, “shit.”
Seungcheol glares half-heartedly at Jeonghan who is still dying of laughter while Joshua snatches the phone off the table, “Jihoon, please — I swear to God — tell me you’re with Hansol right now.”
More rustling is heard, and Seungcheol can feel Joshua’s patience running out. Jeonghan just has a shit-eating grin on his face now, while Joshua looks like he’s ready to bash his head into the nearest wall. Seconds pass by before —
“Fuck — hyung, I’m so sorry, I’ll be on my way to the company,” Hansol’s baritone voice finally filters out of the speakers, panicking.
Seungcheol just heaves out another exhausted sigh as Joshua proceeds to chew the younger out through the phone for the next ten minutes.
Problem solved, he guesses.
Plus one.
Jeonghan knows. Of course, he does. He isn’t their company’s PR executive manager for nothing.
So, when Jihoon passes by him in a hurry on his way to his studio, Jeonghan smirks and quips, “congratulations, Jihoonie.”
The other freezes in his tracks, and swivels around, eyes narrowed. He looks like he’s being swallowed by the huge winter parka he has on. It just makes him look like a cute, particularly annoyed bird. He still has snow on top of his cap.
“For what?” Jihoon bites out. He schools him with an impassive look but his cheeks are flushed a bright red. Jeonghan is sure it’s not because of the winter cold.
He strolls up to him leisurely, a playful smile on his lips. “In my 6 years of working here, Lee Jihoon has never been late to work,” Jeonghan says in a singsong manner, leering at him. “I wonder what made you” — he checks his watch — “four hours late.”
Jihoon looks like he wants to make a run for it, but everybody knows no matter how far you run from Yoon Jeonghan, you can’t ever hide. And, Jihoon is as trapped as a rabbit in a snare as soon as he crossed paths with the devil in question.
So, he just huffs and crosses his arms, leaning away from Jeonghan’s knowing look and self-satisfied smirk. “What game are you playing?”
“No games,” Jeonghan tells him, conceding. He throws his hands up in surrender, stepping away from Jihoon’s personal bubble, but Jihoon still eyes him suspiciously. He continues, “I’m just wondering what Hansol was doing in your apartment this morning. After a 12-hour flight, no less. Poor Joshua was stressed out of his mind.”
Jihoon isn’t deterred, “it’s none of your business.”
“Aww, don’t be like that, Hoonie,” Jeonghan drawls, slinging an arm around his shoulder and forcing Jihoon to walk with him down the hallway. “Also, it is my business, as the company’s head of PR.”
Jihoon bristles at that, and Jeonghan throws him an innocent smile. He pats Jihoon on the shoulder, “oh, don’t worry about it. I won’t tell Seungcheol yet, but it is my job to make sure no scandals escape the four walls of this building.”
“I’m not an idol,” Jihoon retorts with a scoff.
“Ah, but how about Hansol?” Jeonghan counters as they stop in front of the Universe Factory. He tilts his head, pressing on, “Chwe Hansol? Former idol trainee of one of the biggest entertainment industries turned underground rapper? Now, main producer of one of the biggest global boy groups. His name is still whispered on the streets, you should know this, shouldn’t you?”
Jihoon looks stunned for a second, and Jeonghan takes pity on him. He gives him a light sigh, “you shouldn’t sell yourself short either, Producer Woozi.”
“I don’t care about that,” Jihoon quips, standing his ground. There is an agonized look on his face as he says, a little strangled, “what do you want me to do?”
Jeonghan brushes the snow off his hat, and pinches his cheek. Jihoon lets him, and then gives him a pout.
Jeonghan chuckles. Jihoon is like a little brother to him, and he knows that under that ice-cold exterior of the serious, no-nonsense producer, there is a romantic, fragile writer underneath.
Jeonghan speaks up again, “look, Jihoonie, I’m not trying to tease you — okay, maybe I am, a little bit — but as your hyung, all I wanted to do is congratulate you for finally, uh, being happy?”
“...thanks?”
“But, as your PR manager, I do need you to disclose your relationship with Hansol.”
Jihoon turns crimson and blanches, “you can’t be serious.”
Jeonghan’s smile turns wider, shaking his head, “I am 100% serious.”
They have a prolonged and useless staring contest as Jihoon frowns deeply at him while Jeonghan just fixes him with a languid stare.
Jihoon relents first — Jeonghan laughs internally because he expected this — and surrenders with a low murmur, “fine. Hansol and I are together. Romantically. Is that enough for you?”
There is a part of him that feels bad for cornering the younger like this but it does make his job a little bit easier. His hand comes up to Jihoon’s cheek again as he coos, “awww, Jihoonie, freaking finally! I’m so happy for you!”
“God, what is wrong with you?” Jihoon balks, pushing his hand away. His ears have turned a deep shade of red. He has his signature scowl on his face which is just makes him five times more adorable to the older.
“Sorry,” Jeonghan intones, “as your hyung, I am very happy for you.”
Jihoon raises an eyebrow at that.
“But as your PR manager,” he goes on, “I do need to tell you to at least cover your neck with a scarf if Hansol wants to treat it like his own personal chew toy.”
Jihoon lets out a surprised noise and slaps his neck with his palm abruptly as he goes wide-eyed.
Jeonghan lets out a howling laugh, “I’m surprised you didn’t notice, you look like you got beat up.”
“No!” Jihoon yelps, finally heading inside his studio to peer into his floor-length mirror. “Oh my God, I had these the whole time?”
Jeonghan follows him inside lazily, “you should be lucky. I wouldn’t want to be Hansol right now getting yelled at by Joshua.”
“Shit…” Jihoon drags his hand across his face and sighs.
Jeonghan just grins. “Nice talk, Jihoonie! Glad y'all sorted out whatever it was you guys were fighting about last month. Now, I gotta pester the kids into revealing what they were up to last week. Even though, I do already know” — he chuckles — “see ya!”
All he hears is Jihoon spluttering, “wha– how-” before he shuts the door to the studio with a satisfied snicker.