Work Text:
jeon wonwoo and wen junhui had happened naturally. they didn’t need something specific, an event , to shove them together and force them to grow from there. wonwoo and junhui had simply happened. junhui had smiled at wonwoo and there were little stars in his eyes and his grin was like the sun itself. wonwoo had allowed junhui to come close and closer and closer and smiled when they entwined their hands. wonwoo could see how junhui looked at him, had looked at him the whole time. he didn’t mind at all.
-
“you look good,” junhui said and wonwoo tried to force down the smile, but junhui could pull grins out of wonwoo like magicians pull white doves out of their sleeves, pristine and fair and free.
“you look dumb,” wonwoo responded and junhui grinned too. their eyes were dark from eyeliner remains and sleep deprivation and junhui’s fingers brushed along wonwoo’s cheek. his gaze was so adoring, wonwoo almost expected him to point out his awkward pigmentation and blemishes and call them beauty spots, but junhui just looks at him affectionately.
wonwoo turned away to pull his shirt off and peel the pants off his legs. considering the circumference of his thighs, one would think pants hung loose on him, but the outfit coordinators somehow found and put him in skin-tight jeans regardless. it took effort to ignore junhui undressing as well, somewhere behind him.
wonwoo knew junhui’s body like the back of his hand but it struck him as marvelous every time he saw it anyways; taut, lean muscle under tan skin. freckles, moles, scars, discolorations proving wear and tear, callouses and dry patches. junhui’s complexion was like precious gold, speckled with bronze and copper and wonwoo wanted to trace the constellations in those metallic stars with his eyes, lips, fingertips.
-
wonwoo loved junhui; the junhui who danced no matter how tired he was, who sang songs he didn’t necessarily like, who worked endlessly because this was his dream and he was going to fulfill it. he loved the junhui who observed himself in the mirror to perfect his facial expressions, who didn’t just listen to the coordinators, but held discussions with them, the junhui with a past full of experience. he loved the junhui who fell asleep before his head hit the pillow, who ate four bags of prawn crackers by himself on the way back from hong kong, who ordered chinese food for them and fed soonyoung the spiciest thing on the menu, the junhui who’s just junhui , plain and simple.
-
wonwoo settled into junhui’s arms, noticing the warmth in junhui’s gaze and the quirk of his lips. they were silent, quiet like secrets and whispers and things unknown.
“do boys date in china?” wonwoo asked. he had always pictured a wife and two kids, he knew little of what boys did when they were in love.
“some do,” junhui responded, “do boys in korea?”
wonwoo thought for a moment, before he answered honestly; “i don't know. i’d want to, though.”
junhui smiled at him, like he knew what he was thinking (he totally did, wonwoo was expressive and junhui knew him well).
“i think i’d want to, too,” junhui said and now it was wonwoo’s turn to smile knowingly; junhui’s eyes were all twinkly, like they always seemed to be when the two of them were alone together.
“it’s decided then,” wonwoo said and laced junhui’s fingers with his own, and junhui laughed, but didn’t argue. wonwoo knew junhui wanted this just as much as he did, he didn’t have to impress or surprise him. they were wonwoo and junhui after all, they didn’t need spontaneous behaviour; they needed naught but their honest selves.
-
junhui loved wonwoo too, wonwoo could see it. he could see it in every little touch, every smile and every unnecessary wink that junhui threw at him just because. junhui smiled at everyone, touched everyone, winked at everyone, but wonwoo knew he had something special with junhui nonetheless. junhui was so obvious about it, wonwoo thought. the glint in his eye, the looks when no one else were watching, the fingers brushing along his along the back of his hand when they passed each other in the hallways. he didn’t have to say anything for wonwoo to know it.
-
“my mom wants to know if you're doing good,” junhui said, turning over to look at wonwoo. wonwoo looked down at the head his lap and the face staring up at him on it, and he wasn't really smiling per se, but his eyes were soft and there was a miniscule tug on the corner of his lips; a typical ‘i’m happy but relaxed happy’ expression.
“tell her i’m doing great, and ask how she's doing,” wonwoo responded, blessing junhui with a proper grin before he refocused on his phone, letting junhui text his mother in peace. mama jun had always had a weak spot for wonwoo and it made wonwoo feel warm inside.
“she says i’m responding slowly, but apart from that, she's fine. work is tough, but nothing she can't handle,” junhui read, as soon as he got a response. a disgruntled noise left his lips before he said; “what kind of betrayal; she told me everything was great!”
wonwoo laughed and put his phone down on the floor, one hand reaching to entwine with junhui's (and forcing him to type with only his left) and the other burying itself in junhui's hair.
“she's always more honest with me,” wonwoo teased, pulling on junhui's hair just a little, “you worry too much.”
junhui made another noise, but didn't argue. he did have a tendency to let concerns fester and grow like mold along the corners of his mind.
“i can't believe you've replaced me as her favourite and you don't even speak the same language,” junhui fake complained, pouting his lips and almost managing to hold back a smile when wonwoo poked his cheek.
“you're my favourite,” wonwoo offered and junhui's little smile grew wide and brilliant and wonwoo held his hand tight and caressed his face, softly as if junhui was precious porcelain.
-
jeon wonwoo and wen junhui had happened slowly. eyeing each other in the bathrooms as trainees as if they had some hilarious inside joke that no one else was in on. hugging after the debut showcase, junhui’s nose in wonwoo’s neck and wonwoo’s arms tight around junhui’s body. junhui carrying wonwoo around backstage and making the coordis upset (“god, stop wrinkling your shirts! the audience notices stuff like that, trust me!) and grinning at wonwoo like wonwoo was the moon and all the stars and the entire milky way. wonwoo biting at junhui’s arms and fingers and nose, and junhui simply laughing at him. they had happened over months and years and decades and centuries and wonwoo wondered if the whole universe was created with the sole purpose of bringing wen junhui and jeon wonwoo together like this.
-
junhui got high off feedback, wonwoo knew. junhui got off stage as breathless as the others, and stayed breathless all night, with the audience cheers still ringing in his ears. junhui pulled wonwoo close the second the others had left the changing room (minghao with a curious glance back and a cocky smile on his face) and kissed him until they were both breathless.
“that was fantastic,” junhui said as per usual, flushed and excited. wonwoo was tired, but junhui made him smile anyways.
“you were fantastic,” he responded and junhui grinned at him like the sun itself, like an actual angel (wonwoo wasn't even religious, but he almost doubted someone like wen junhui could come into creation without divine intervention of some sort).
“i do my best,” junhui said with a silly wink and wonwoo thought junhui did his best and more and more than anyone could comprehend.
“you do better every time,” wonwoo praised and wrapped his arms around junhui and wondered if they could melt together like this; go from wonwoo and junhui to wonwooandjunhui , from the sun and the moon to the entire sky.
junhui said nothing, only leaned into wonwoo and buried his face in wonwoo’s neck and held wonwoo like he was going to escape and run away and disappear should he ever let go.
“i try,” junhui mumbled and wonwoo relished the feeling of his voice against his skin, the feeling of junhui so close to him (it was nothing unusual, but wonwoo fell a little more in love every time).
“you do,” wonwoo said and junhui pulled back, post-poned sleepiness finding its’ way into junhui's bright eyes. he blinked slowly and wonwoo traced circles into his shirt with his thumbs and kissed him once again.
junhui's eyelids were heavy and the curve of his lips was as soft as can be when he uttered a quiet; “thank you.”
-
loving junhui was tough sometimes, wonwoo thought. wen junhui, prince of china, miracle of the continent. he worked so hard and achieved so much and wonwoo felt so small in comparison. it was so strange to wonwoo that the audience never seemed to love junhui as much as he did. the audience praised him instead, praised his face and his voice and he was so thankful, but he just didn’t get it. why praise his face when they could praise junhui’s smile or junhui’s dancing or junhui’s incredible energy. it was tough to love someone so much and still see them go unnoticed.
-
wonwoo had never been one for holding back. he worked for things things he wanted and avoided things he didn’t want to deal with (like fanservice with mingyu, after a fan actually asked if they were dating). junhui therefore noticed quickly when wonwoo started staying late at the practise room and spending more time on his own, throwing away wonwoo and junhui time for more and more and more practise.
“are you okay?” junhui asks, careful and soft, as if wonwoo was a wild animal junhui had to tread quietly around. he was afraid wonwoo was going to flee like a deer in headlights.
“i’m fine,” wonwoo said, looking away because he knows junhui can read them like a book. it's an obvious gesture, though, from someone who always makes eye contact.
“really?” junhui responded in that i-know-you’re-lying-please-just-tell-me way. junhui rarely used that tone on wonwoo. jeon wonwoo, ever the honest boy.
“it’s nothing big,” he insisted but his gaze was fleeting and avoiding junhui's and junhui wasn't dumb.
“but you're bothered,” junhui kept urging him to tell, to come clean, to admit. wonwoo admitted nothing, choosing instead to bite his lip and then take junhui's hand and bite at his fingertips until junhui smiled again.
“i worry about you, you know,” junhui said before he kissed him, and wonwoo said nothing at all before he kissed back and ended the conversation.
-
loving wonwoo was easy, junhui said. apparently, he had captured the stars in his eyes and always loved with an honest heart. wonwoo didn’t get it, but junhui said that was fine. sometimes, wonwoo wished junhui wouldn’t say it was fine. sometimes, wonwoo wished junhui would tell him something was wrong. he wanted them to develop, to change, to evolve. he wanted them to be on the same level, he wanted junhui to have expectations of him.
-
“why aren't you disappointed?” wonwoo yelled-whispered, the way you have to do when arguing with three sleeping people in the room.
“we all make mistakes, why would i be?” junhui responded, voice controlled but harsh, tired.
“because it was obvious! because it was easily avoidable! because we're idols, i don't know.” wonwoo was distressed, as if missing a beat on stage was the end of the world. junhui never missed beats, junhui's voice never cracked, junhui junhui junhui.
junhui moved closer and hushed wonwoo so they wouldn't wake up the others from wonwoo’s rising volume. he waited until wonwoo was breathing calmly again before he asked; “is this what's been bothering you?”
wonwoo said nothing, and it was as good an affirmation as any. junhui pulled him closer and wonwoo tried half-heartedly to pull away, to get out before he was caught again (wonwoo couldn't, didn't want to, escape junhui's arms), but junhui embraced him soon enough.
“you're beating yourself up for no reason,” junhui said.
“i’m not improving,” wonwoo disagreed, and junhui didn't want to be irritated, but his lover was so blind to his own efforts, it made junhui's hairs stand on end.
“yes, you are. you're talented and just keep on growing,” junhui tried, but his voice slipped into patronising territory and wonwoo bristled.
“i don't need any pity, junhui,” he all but hissed, but junhui could almost smell the insecurity behind wonwoo’s burst of anger, he knew wonwoo was like a tightrope dancer balancing on a thin line above sadness.
when junhui kissed wonwoo, he cracked, he fell off the rope and junhui kissed away a tear. he pressed his lips to wonwoo’s eyelid and asked him; “what can i do to help?”
“just ask something of me,” wonwoo pleaded, begged , “be selfish for once, junhui.”
junhui fell quiet. he was so thoughtful, pensive, careful. then, junhui said, and wonwoo thought it’d be paired with a cheesy grin, but junhui’s face was serious; “stay with me, wonwoo. don’t leave.”
-
jeon wonwoo and wen junhui happened, despite it all. despite stress and work and a merciless audience, jeon wonwoo and wen junhui happened. they happened every time the cameras turned off, every time they got off stage, every time they held hands in the car on the way back to their dormitory. from good morning kisses to conversations at two in the morning to discreet flirting over dinner, jeon wonwoo and wen junhui happen and happen and happen all over again.