Chapter Text
"Seven years. That’s how long the five of us are going to stay together," Annie said, standing in front of the conference table like a general addressing her troops. Her clipboard was tucked neatly under one arm, her tone sharp, unwavering. "And to make it work, we need rules."
The room was quiet, filled with the charged stillness of five strangers brought together by talent and ambition. Just a week prior, their paths hadn't even remotely intersected. Now, they were ALLDAY PROJECT.
Bailey leaned back in her chair, chewing her lip thoughtfully. Tarzzan slouched forward, elbows on the table, clearly trying not to look too serious. Woochan sat upright, arms folded neatly across his chest, while Youngseo lounged next to him, anxiously tapping on her knee.
Annie looked each of them in the eye. "The most important one – no dating. Among ourselves, I mean."
Tarzzan raised a hand. "So outside the group’s fair game?"
"I mean, we're all adults," Annie sighed, rolling her eyes. "So yes. Just not with each other. We can't risk this group falling apart because of that. We’re going to live together, train together, and debut together. We have to keep things professional. There's too much at stake."
There was a collective nod, and though some did it reluctantly, no one argued further. The meeting ended shortly after, and the five walked out of the room with their pact sealed.
No dating. No distractions. Only burning ambition and a yearning for the long-awaited debut.
And at the time, it made perfect sense.
—
The months leading up to the debut were, in a word, brutal. Days began before the sun rose and ended long after it fell. Vocal training, dance practice, media coaching, team-building exercises, and endless rehearsals. The members saw each other more than they saw their own reflections, let alone their families.
Bailey became the drill sergeant of choreography. She tracked every step, every angle, every arm position. She had a terrifying way of pausing music and sighing deeply when someone was off count.
"From the top," she said one Thursday afternoon. "Youngseo, your arm was late by half a count. Woochan, stop smiling like you’re in a toothpaste commercial. Focus."
"I’m just naturally radiant," Woochan replied, his grin only getting bigger.
Youngseo rolled her eyes. "Radiantly off-beat."
"You wound me," Woochan declared, clutching his chest with theatrical flair and dramatically collapsing to the ground. "I thought we were in this together."
"Whatever," Youngseo snorted, extending a hand as a peace offering. But just as he was about to take it, she smoothly pulled back, winking with a devilish grin. "Gotcha."
Woochan let out a dramatic sigh, flopping back down with a resounding thump. "I can't believe I fell for that again," he mumbled to the ceiling, which offered no sympathy.
Bailey clapped. "Alright, enough with the existential crisis. Rehearsal. Now. "
Tarzzan whispered, "Damn, if she ever forms a unit, I’m faking my own death."
The music blared again. The group moved. They hit every beat with sharp precision, driven by the growing intensity of the countdown to debut. This, apparently, was their new normal.
—
After what felt like hours of torture, everyone collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily.
"Woochan, Youngseo," Annie's voice, surprisingly sweet, floated from across the practice room. "Are you hungry?"
"Starving, actually," Woochan managed between gasps, while Youngseo offered a weak nod from where she was sprawled out like a broken doll.
Annie’s soft expression twisted into a grin of mischief. "Perfect. Then, as our lovely maknaes, full of youthful energy, you can go to the supermarket and buy us all snacks, while we order dinner. Ask the manager for money."
"I hate all of you," Woochan muttered, flopping backward onto the floor in a final, dramatic act of defeat.
Youngseo sat up. "And what did I do? I'm just as much their slave as you are."
"Your sole existence is offense enough," Woochan said, already dragging himself toward the door with the enthusiasm of a condemned man.
"God, you’re insufferable." Youngseo shot back, though a small smile tugged at her lips.
"Less whining, more walking," Annie called, clearly enjoying their misery.
"I'll remember this betrayal when I'm rich and famous," Woochan grumbled, grabbing his hoodie.
He held the door open for Youngseo, who leaned in close and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, "I hope they’re happy with instant noodles and a side of resentment."
"Wait!" Tarzzan's voice boomed just as they were about to make their escape. "I swear to God, Woochan, if you forget my banana milk agai—"
Thud.
Woochan turned on his heel and slammed the door shut mid-sentence, earning him a hearty laughter from Youngseo, which did not make him feel a little proud. Not at all.
—
The night air was crisp and cool, the kind that kissed the skin rather than bit it. A soft hush blanketed the city, broken only by the low buzz of passing cars and the rhythm of their footsteps. Above them, stars scattered across the sky like spilled glitter, accompanied by the enchanting full moon. They walked through empty streets, golden pools of streetlight blooming under their feet.
Now that the usual bickering had momentarily ceased, the air between them felt different—filled with awkward silence and even more awkward glances.
"It’s nice out," Woochan murmured, the words feeling clumsy even as they left his lips. He immediately cringed, scolding himself for such a painfully generic conversation starter.
“You’re seriously gonna talk about the weather?” Youngseo snorted, tucking her hands deeper into her sleeves, her expression a perfect blend of amusement and disdain.
"No, I mean,” Woochan said, a defensive edge creeping into his voice. “I kind of wish we had more nights like this. Just… quiet."
Youngseo tilted her head, giving him a confused look that somehow managed to be both endearing and slightly mocking. Her unexpected lack of immediate sarcasm only encouraged him to continue, perhaps foolishly.
“Before we debut, that is. Who knows what our life will look like after that? Maybe we won’t be able to walk freely like this anymore. With the fans and paparazzi following us everywhere…” He finished, trying to sound nonchalant but failing spectacularly.
“Someone’s cocky,” Youngseo replied with a grin, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “But what if our debut will be a total flop? Maybe we won’t ever have to worry about too much attention,” she added.
“You really suck at consoling other people, I hope you’re aware,” Woochan said, shaking his head, which only made Youngseo giggle and hit him playfully on the shoulder.
“No, but I mean,” Youngseo started after a while, her tone audibly more serious, the playful facade momentarily dropping. “What if we actually won’t be successful? What if the public won’t accept us because we’re a mixed group? What if this whole idea is too brave, too… different? You’re really not worried about that at all? Wouldn’t you rather be in a normal boy group instead? Wouldn’t that be wiser? Safer?” she finished her rambling in one breath, gnawing at her lip anxiously, her gaze fixed on the glowing pavement.
Woochan stopped in his tracks, the sudden halt pulling Youngseo to a stop beside him. He reached out, his fingers lightly closing around her elbow, a gentle anchor against her swirling anxieties.
“Hey,” Woochan started softly, his voice devoid of any usual sarcasm. “Don’t let that get to your head. If you’re genuinely asking me, then I can genuinely assure you that I have full trust in us. I see the potential we all have. I see the vision. I don’t care if it sounds cocky, but I truly think we’re destined for success. I see it in each and every one of us. Especially you,” he said in a serious tone, his gaze unwavering as it met Youngseo’s eyes, holding hers captive.
She looked at the ground reluctantly, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, as if the intensity of his gaze was too much to bear.
“And even if we flop,” he continued, his voice firm, “I know you won’t. You will be the most talked-about one in our group, that I’m sure of. Your charisma on stage is on another level. So stop worrying about it and enjoy your last moments of peace and quiet. Mark my words. Just don’t forget me when you’re famous.”
“I wish that was possible,” Youngseo scoffed, but the visible lift in her shoulders and the faint, genuine smile playing on her lips betrayed her. Woochan’s unexpected words had clearly cheered her up, despite her best efforts to maintain her cynical exterior.
She shivered slightly, a genuine chill this time, mentally scolding herself for not grabbing her coat before leaving the practice room. Without a word, Woochan shrugged off his hoodie, and, with a surprisingly smooth motion, draped it over Youngseo's shoulders.
“What? Too lazy to carry it?” Youngseo asked, her voice a little breathy, praying to all the gods out there that the heat she could already feel on her cheeks wasn't visible in the dim night light. She didn’t take it off, though.
“Smart girl,” Woochan said with a cheeky grin, his fingers ruffling her hair playfully, at which Youngseo released a loud sigh of defeat.
Inside the supermarket, fluorescent lights cast a sleepy glow over aisles lined with colorful packaging. They picked through snack bags, ramen packs, and drink bottles, bickering softly over flavors and brand loyalties. When passing by the dairy aisle, one specific product caught Woochan’s attention. Mango yogurt. The exact same one Youngseo drinks after practice. Every single day. Menace behavior, if you asked him. Without a word, he subtly, almost imperceptibly, slipped the yogurt into their basket, burying it beneath a mountain of chips.
At the checkout, Youngseo’s eyes narrowed slightly as she spotted the yogurt. “And who’s that for?” she asked with a hint of curiosity in her tone.
“Well… you?” Woochan deadpanned, his expression utterly blank. “You always have it after practice, right?” he said, hoping it came out as nonchalant as it sounded in his head.
Youngseo froze, her eyes widening slightly as she looked from the yogurt to Woochan. He could feel her gaze from the side, a silent question, but he chose not to look her way. Ignore it, he thought, focusing intently on the cashier scanning their items. Just keep the nonchalant act going.
She didn’t say anything, and Woochan was glad. He didn’t know if he could keep this up for much longer.
The way back was somehow much more comfortable. The awkwardness had evaporated, replaced by a quiet ease. The conversation flowed easier now, accompanied by shared glances and the occasional, almost imperceptible, brush of shoulders as they navigated the still streets.
Youngseo let out a small sigh, which somehow caught Woochan’s attention.
“What? Any more worries to share with the wise man Woochan?” he asked, and Youngseo could already feel the smile in his voice.
“I’d need soju for that,” she scoffed, a smirk playing on her lips.
“Our baby Youngseo drinking? That’s illegal!” he shouted, his voice ringing out in the quiet street, earning them a weird look from a couple passing by.
“I’m literally your age,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes.
“Apparently… Still can’t imagine you drinking more than a shot of soju.”
“Well, that only shows you don’t know me well,” she said, sounding accusatory. “Bet I can drink more than you.”
This made Woochan laugh out loud. “Well, by no means am I the best drinker out there, but you’re literally pocket size. How would that even be possible?”
“As if you were this huge bodybuilder,” Youngseo scoffed, nudging him with her elbow.
“I guess we would have to test your theory one day,” he mused, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Bring. It. On.” she said, already showing her true, competitive colors.
They didn’t even notice when they made it back to their company building, the familiar facade appearing almost too soon. Both of them now looked somewhat disappointed by the abrupt end to their conversation.
As they approached the building, Youngseo slipped off the hoodie. "Here," she said, handing it back to him, her voice quieter than before. "Wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong idea.”
“Right. Of course,” Woochan nodded as he took it, his fingers brushing hers for a fleeting second, a small jolt passing between them. He tucked it under his arm, looking slightly disappointed, maybe? Youngseo didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. The sudden chill of the night air seemed to bite a little harder now, or perhaps it was just the unexpected absence of warmth. The hoodie felt oddly heavier in his hand.
When they walked back into the practice room, the others were already seated on the floor, surrounded by takeout containers and a lot of attitude.
"Did you detour to Busan?” Bailey asked. “Quick, the food is getting cold!"
"You better have brought my–," Tarzzan started.
“—bAnAnA MiLk,” Woochan finished his sentence in a high-pitched, mocking tone, as he took out the small yellow bottle from one of the plastic bags. “I’m offended at how little faith you have in me,” he said sharply, throwing the bottle at Tarzzan, who barely managed to catch it, grinning goofily at Woochan.
As the group tore into the food, the practice room was once again filled with loud chatter, laughs, and occasional yells, a symphony of post-practice relief. Amidst the cheerful chaos, Youngseo took out the mango yogurt from the bag. Her eyes immediately wandered, almost involuntarily, to where Woochan was sprawled out on the floor next to Tarzzan, shoving each other like little kids.
Her eyes lingered. Just for a second too long. A warm, unexpected wave of the indescribable feeling from before hitting her right back. She quickly looked away, a faint blush rising to her cheeks right before she dove into her drink.
But Woochan caught it.
And for some reason, that was enough to make his heart race. A silent promise in the noisy room.