Work Text:
talk
The concert hadn't even started, but the low, anticipatory buzz of the crowd had already crept its way backstage. The walls of the greenroom hummed with it, the winding corridors behind the stage were alive with it.
Chan was made up, his hair styled and his clothing rhinestoned. His hamstrings were stretched and his throat was propolis-sprayed. He had been first in the makeup chair due to a series of poor decisions during rock-paper-scissors, leaving him with ample time to pace backstage and wait to be called for the group cheer.
What Chan really wanted to do was to sneak up to the stage and take a peak, past the flurry of staff members and the mountainous security guards. To see the buzz of the crowd for himself and breathe it into his lungs like a secret.
But what he wanted more, and it almost felt like a betrayal to his own love of performing to admit, was to take Wonwoo by the arm and pull him along. Wonwoo had learned, eventually, how to fill a silence. He had learned how to talk Chan through his pre-concert flutters, talking about anything and everything. He would make Chan laugh as they hid behind the curtains, or the LED screens, or the steel pillars.
It was an unexpected hiccup in Chan's pre-concert routine, this feeling of missing Wonwoo.
A fifteen-minute warning rang backstage. Seokmin ran past, brandishing a Go Pro and jolting Chan from his thoughts. Hurrying back to the greenroom, Chan dug his phone out of his bag, ignoring the pointed look Hyelim-ssaem gave him. As though he had read Chan's mind, there was a good luck message from Wonwoo waiting for him - one in the team's group chat and another just for Chan, with more heart emojis than he could afford to use in the presence of eleven people who would never let him live it down.
The tightness in Chan's chest eased, somewhat - and he made a mental note to ask for a voice note, next time.
tease
Lee Chan was not someone who underestimated the importance of stretching. Flexibility, as he liked to remind Wonwoo, could be developed with practice.
(Now, whether Wonwoo had decided to use Chan's flexibility for evil, was between him, Chan, and every bed in Chan's house and also his kitchen counter. And his entryway. And his bathroom. It was as Chan said - practice.)
Between rehearsals of their new, eight-person formations, Chan bent at the waist and pressed his palms to the floor in a stretch. He inhaled as deeply as he could, feeling his lungs expand, feeling the burn in his calves. He wrapped his hands around his ankles, and pressed his chin closer to his knees.
"What choreography do we have that requires a stretch like that, Lee Chan?" goaded Seungkwan from the other side of the practice room between fevered gulps of iced americano, which could not have been very hydrating.
Bickering back-and-forth was ritual for Chan and Seungkwan, but this time, Minghao intervened. "Don't you know what the Performance Team have to go through every concert, you punk?"
What Chan had expected, he realised with a pang, was a deeper voice to join the chorus. A deeper voice, with a disjointed laugh that would attract its own teasing.
"It's a good thing Wonwoo-hyung isn't here," commented Hansol from where he was starfished on the floor to Chan's side. Straightening slowly, and with practiced core control, Chan levelled Hansol with a stare.
"Nothing he hasn't seen before," Chan shrugged, before cackling at Hansol's look of utter horror. "Do you think he'll want a live demonstration?"
hearteyes
It was five o'clock in the morning, and Chan was going to work.
This, in itself, was not unusual. Chan still being awake, however, was a rarer sight. Junhui said as much, when he hopped into the car a few minutes later, because they were too codependent to live too far from one another.
"Watching something, Chan-ah?" Junhui asked, buckling himself in.
"Ah," Chan cleared his throat, "just some GoSe, you know? YouTube."
"Wow. Monitoring," Seungcheol slurred from the passenger seat, still half-asleep. "Pro idol, Lee Chan."
"Wow!" Junhui parroted. He blinked owlishly at Chan. "Well, good night!"
The car descended back into quiet, the only noises coming from various pairs of headphones and their manager's soft humming. Chan turned his attention back to his phone. He wasn't monitoring, exactly. It was more like... research. He wasn't even looking at himself in the videos, not really - just something in the background. Something that would purse his lips and duck his head and play with streamers like they were a curl of long hair. Something that cropped up again and again, so often that Chan could feel the absence of it. The back of his neck almost felt cool, now, without that constant, burning stare.
Oh, hyung, Chan thought, stifling a laugh with his fist. You never were very subtle, were you?
bite
"Yah, Jeon Wonwoo, you might actually be crazy. I look like I've been attacked!"
"Oh no," Wonwoo said flatly, because he thought he was funny. His eyes shined transparently with mirth. "You won't be able to wear those tissue paper tank tops for a while."
Chan threw his t-shirt at him. He may not have been good at sports, but this time, his aim was true. "Don't act like you don't like those tank tops, you crazy bastard."
Wonwoo fell back against Chan's duvet, plucking the t-shirt from his face. His smug grin was infuriatingly handsome, even with his glasses knocked askew and his crew cut at its perpetual awkward length.
"Don't act like you don't like when I bite, Chan-ah," Wonwoo murmured, grin growing as Chan settled over his lap. He stared poutily and shirtlessly down at Wonwoo, arms crossed. He was doing this on purpose, Wonwoo knew. His biceps had just the right curve for Wonwoo to fit his teeth against. The line of his abs tightened as he lifted onto his knees, pale skin begging to be marked by Wonwoo's mouth, for a string of purple to match his collarbone.
Chan sniffed, turning his face to the side. Wonwoo dragged his gaze along the jut of Chan's jaw, the hint of stubble at his chin, and swallowed. "We're not talking about me, right now," Chan said haughtily.
"Sure," Wonwoo agreed easily, word melting into a groan as Chan dropped onto his lap. "This is all for me. Now come closer, baby, and let me leave you something to remember me by."