Work Text:
The results of the physical hurt more than Donghae was expecting.
More than two decades in this industry mean he's well aware his body condition isn't anywhere near its peak. They're months into an international concert tour with little-to-no rest in between, and the wear and tear of constant use is starting to take its toll. He can feel it in the soreness that never seems to fade, the slight delay in his movements today compared to their performance yesterday, and it frustrates him. More than anything Donghae wants to be strong. Needs to be strong, to keep promoting as Super Junior and D&E, to support his family, to stay where he wants to be: on stage, in front of his fans. And he tries hard too—doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, does his best to eat healthy and work out—so to be told his condition is the worst within the group feels like failure.
Heechul pats him on the back and says something about take a break while the trainer scribbles out some notes on his iPad. Donghae just nods in response, not really hearing what he says. It's probably nothing different from what the other members tell him, or what he sees in the comments on his Instagram posts or Fromm messages. He knows everyone means well, but what athlete gets told to stop working out if they're not performing up to standard? The fittest men Donghae knows all practically sleep in the gym, live and breathe exercise, and Donghae is sure that if he can just get a little closer to that everything will get better.
The problem, he concludes the next morning after a night of ruminating, is that he hasn't been able to exercise to the standard he's used to. The hotels their concert organizers booked have all been grand and luxurious for sure—beautifully appointed suites with rainfall showers, floor-to-ceiling windows, and enough pillows to suffocate a man—but their gyms have been significantly less impressive. Donghae had done his best to adjust to the situation, but the effects on his body are already evident. He strips off his shirt and flexes in front of his bathroom mirror. The deep dip he used to have between his pectorals is already starting to flatten out and his shoulders look narrower than he remembers them. He frowns a little bit. Even his biceps seem oddly deflated, and he finds the bulge of them no longer stretches the sleeves of his t-shirt, even when he squeezes the muscle as hard as possible.
The weather outside in Kaohsiung is a balmy 25 degrees even now in January, but Donghae decides to dig into his suitcases for the turquoise Tempus hoodie he packed on the off-chance of a sudden winter freeze. He throws it on over his t-shirt, tugs at the fabric until the loose folds balloon to a size that he's satisfied with. This is how he should look, he thinks, shoulders bulging, generous curves twisting up his arms. The folds won't stay in place though, collapsing with the slightest movement, and it is with that slight dissatisfaction unfulfilled that Donghae makes his want down to breakfast.
Hyukjae is slurping up his daily bowl of instant ramen as Donghae sets down his breakfast of yogurt and mixed fruit next to him. He says something garbled from around his mouthful of noodles that Donghae is not fully sure is human speech before he swallows the ramen down.
"You feeling okay?"
Donghae looks back at him quizzically, touches his face to see if there's something on it he hadn't noticed.
"No? Why? Do I not look okay?"
"It's just rare to see you coming down to breakfast so late," Hyukjae says as he plucks a blueberry off Donghae's plate. "Plus, it's blazing hot outside and you're wearing a hoodie."
Donghae scoops up a spoonful of berries for himself before Hyukjae steals them all and chews on them methodically.
"Just felt like it," he replies. "The AC at the venue is pretty intense and it's easier to take off layers than conjure them up from nothing later."
"Yeah, makes sense," Hyukjae says, before tilting the paper bowl up to finish off the last of the ramen broth. He collects the bits and bobs of trash on the table into the empty container and stands up with a squeak of wood on marble.
"You want anything else from the buffet?"
Donghae shakes his head. "I'm good."
Hyukjae shrugs and walks towards the trash bin. The morning sunlight streaming in from the windows catches across his back and Donghae feels that familiar mix of pride and envy at his partner's perfect body. It's only been a few weeks since Hyukjae announced he was going to start weight training again in preparation for their 15th anniversary comeback, but even that is enough to bring out the sharp right angles of his shoulders and the slim taper of his waist. No matter how many barbells Donghae lifts, he's never been able to achieve that kind of body line.
Donghae's spoon clicks against the bottom of the bowl. He scrapes up the last spoonful of yogurt and swallows it down, but it's not enough to push away the strange weight he suddenly feels in his chest.
Heechul telling fans at soundcheck about their physical isn't unexpected, but that doesn't mean it's not humiliating. Hyukjae joining in on scolding him doesn't help either. What does Hyukjae know? Hyukjae who eats ramen every morning but still looks like a model when he steps on stage. Hyukjae who, even now, exudes an easy masculinity despite his long white satin skirt, his ornate cap and veil, and the face gems sparkling on his face. Hyukjae, who looks askance at all the weights in the gym while he completes his thrice-weekly stroll on the treadmill, but has no trouble completing a perfect one-handed handstand night after night.
In that moment, Donghae suddenly feels the urge to show off his body, all the muscles and tendons he's worked to build over the years. Diminished, perhaps, compared to what they were before but still unquestionably *there*, a testament to his efforts to become strong. He abandons his blazer for the EDM portion, strides onto the stage in just a black tank top and lets himself savor the fans' camera flashes as he poses in front of them. He cups the back of Hyukjae's neck and pulls him in hard for their regular Sorry, Sorry interlude and feels a buzz of satisfaction at his partner's split second of surprise before he tilts his face forward to lean their foreheads against each other.
By the time everyone's finishing up their ments before second encore, Donghae's mostly worked out the last of his petty annoyance, but the exhaustion of three consecutive concerts is starting to catch up to him. He wishes his body wouldn't betray him like this—there's no way he won't be paying for this in ice packs and compression tape in the next hour. For now, though, he lets himself run on the last fumes of dopamine rush and the sheer joy he feels seeing the bright blue lights of the crowd in front of him. He slings his arms Ryeowook and Hyukjae's shoulders as they scream and jump to the bright, cheerful chords of Miracle.
The morning fog over the Han River has just barely lifted as Donghae makes his way over Seongsu Bridge, car inching slowly forward in the traffic. Against the pale grey sky of Seoul in winter, the sunlight filtering in through his windshield seems thin and cold, and he toggles the heating a click higher as the last of the residual warmth from the parking garage dissipates into the freezing air.
Donghwa had scheduled the coffee tasting for midday to give Donghae some extra time to sleep in and recover after three consecutive days of performances, but the last dregs of stage adrenaline still buzzing in his veins had Donghae blitzing together his morning smoothie and downing the last few eggs in his fridge before the sun had even risen.
He made a handful of half-hearted attempts to work on the new album, but the avalanche of tasks piled before him—updated lyrics from Kyungil to review; mockups of the album design to approve; what had to be approaching a million calendar invites for meetings with Yongsun, the design team, logistics, the MV filming team and directors, the choreographers and dance team, their concert organizers—had him feeling so overwhelmed he only managed to reply to a few emails before he had to snap his iPad shut against the bubbling anxiety building into a scream in the back of his throat. There was only one course of action: to flee to the one place that could bring him calm and focus, the gym.
Donghae finally manages to break away from the traffic as he turns onto Apgujeong-ro, where he's lucky enough to snag one of the few parking spaces right outside of the building. He still zips up his puffer jacket and takes a bracing breath before dashing through the icy cold into the entryway. He'd been expecting the gym to be mostly empty at this hour, had even drafted a simple workout plan that wouldn't require a spotter in preparation, but even as he checks in with the front desk he can hear Jongkook's voice booming through the building. He can't stop himself from grinning as he drops his stuff off in the locker room, throws on his workout gear, and carefully tiptoes in, making sure to keep himself outside of the older man's sight line.
Jongkook appears to be doing his usual "healthlighting" routine with two of the gym's regulars, so Donghae has no qualms about leaping out from behind the leg press, slapping him on the back and jetting away, giggling like a fool at his victim's shriek of surprise. The tightly packed maze of workout equipment thwarts his attempts to make a clean escape, though, and he soon finds himself trapped in a headlock between Jongkook's beefy arms.
"Haven't seen you at the gym in forever and this is how you choose to greet me?" Jongkook rumbles as he ruffles Donghae's hair.
Donghae wriggles out of Jongkook's grip and turns around to give him a quick embrace.
"Kinda hard to make it to this gym when I’m halfway across the globe," he says laughingly.
"Yeah, yeah, you global idols and your jet-setting ways," Jongkook replies. He steps back to give a considering look at Donghae, and Donghae is suddenly seized with the fear that his hyung can see the weakness in his body. Will he notice the empty spaces that should be filled with muscle? The last remnants of adhesive from his ice packs and medicated patches that Donghae hadn't been able to scrub off in the shower? All he says though is just, "How has the tour been? Tough?"
"A little. You know how it is," Donghae says. Nothing his hyung has said is out of place but Donghae feels strangely off-kilter. "I keep forgetting my body isn't 20 anymore," he tries with an awkward chuckle.
Jongkook shakes his head. "You know I always tell you, the solution is to just get stronger." He thumps his chest a few times. "Haven't had any flare ups in my back problems for years. Haven't even had to worry about colds for forever, you know. Once you get stronger, you'll get better."
Donghae smiles, but it feels a little frozen on his face. "Well, that's why I'm here, right?" He tilts his head towards the free weight room. "By the way," he says, "I have a schedule later and wanted to get some reps in beforehand so—"
"No time to chitchat with us small fry when you're a global idol is it?" Jongkook replies, mouth crooked into a grin. "Go do your thing. I'm going to go check on some of the newbies. Give me a shout if you need a spotter."
Donghae sends him a thumbs up as he scuttles away.
By the time he finishes his planned circuit, he's already crushed a whole bottle of water and looped through his workout playlist twice. When he goes to check his body out in the mirror, though, he feels a little disappointed. Of course he knows building back muscle takes time, but the figure reflected back at him seems, impossibly, even smaller than when he started out this morning. From this vantage point, he can see some of the other gym goers and he stares a little enviously at the deep pecs and thick biceps of the man doing chest presses behind him. The clock on the wall tells him there's still some time before he needs to leave for Haru. Donghae sits on the weight bench, staring at the steadily ticking second hand before getting up to walk to the vending machines. He's going to need another bottle of water.
Donghae isn't late, per se, to the coffee tasting, but the sales rep is just finishing her little introductory spiel when Donghae slides into his chair. The tasting itself goes pretty well—the creamy corn einspänner the barista prepares is a little too energy dense for Donghae's tastes (and anyway his heart will always be with the classic iced americano) but the drink has such a lush mouthfeel and delicate sweetness that Donghae is pretty sure it'll be a top seller. They also try out a range of single origin coffees, including one Kopi luwak with an incredible logo of a monkey pooping out coffee beans that Donghae immediately snaps a photo of to share with Hyukjae.
As the event draws to a close, Donghae reaches over the counter to grab his bag and suddenly feels his lower back seize. Even after all this time, the abrupt intensity of the pain is still a shock, and he grits his teeth hard enough to feel the enamel squeak in an attempt to hold back any noise. Everyone else is still busy with tidying up, so he shuffles towards one of the chairs and carefully lowers himself down. Inwhu is technically off today, but he texts back immediately when Donghae asks if he's available to drive him home.
Donghae tries to make himself as unnoticeable as possible while he waits for Inwhu, flicking through Instagram reels as casually as he can while sipping on the remainder of one of the iced pour overs they were testing. When the barista bows and waves goodbye as she leaves, he thinks for a second that he'll manage to escape without being questioned, only for Donghwa to stride directly towards him after he finishes locking the front door.
"How bad is the pain?"
Donghae takes a moment to swallow a mouthful of coffee and looks up at his older brother with the most innocent expression he can muster. "Why would you think I'm in pain? I just wanted to sit and rest a little bit after a busy day, that's all."
Donghwa sighs and gently raps his knuckles against Donghae's forehead. "I've known you since you were crawling on the floor in cloth diapers, crying because I wouldn't share my tteokguk with you. Don't think you can pull this on me. Where does it hurt?"
"Just a little muscle soreness in my lower back," Donghae mumbles. "It's nothing serious, I'll be fine."
"Do you need me to drive you home?"
"I—," Donghae hesitates, considers telling Donghwa he can get home on his own and then wait his older brother out, but he quickly abandons the idea. "I already called Inwhu to pick me up."
"So it isn't just a little muscle soreness, is it," Donghwa says, exasperation adding an edge to his voice. "Why won't you just tell me when you're hurt?" He bends down, gripping Donghae's shoulders. "Your health is more important than anything, okay? There's only the three of us left. I don't want.... I don't...," Donghwa takes a long breath in and blows it out slowly. "Just remember we're in this together, okay? I'll pick you up tomorrow at 1pm so we can go over a few more menu items. Tell Inwhu to park in the back on 4ga-street; I'll walk you over to the car when he arrives."
Donghae looks down at this coffee and nods. The two of them stay like that, in silence, until Donghwa gives Donghae's shoulders a quick squeeze before walking to the sink to finish rinsing off the last of the dirty cups.
Donghae wants to stand up and help, to do something, anything, other than just sit there pathetically, but even the thought of getting up causes his traitorous body to send screaming pain down his spine. His phone pings with a message from Jongkook, a cheery, "Good to see you today. Let's make time to workout together sometime soon." He thinks for a moment about his idol, built like a deity, ten years his senior and yet the pinnacle of health while Donghae himself.... He flips over his phone, digs for the earphones in his pocket, and closes his eyes as he taps play.
Even before Inwhu pulls up to the entrance of the apartment complex, Donghae can see Hyukjae standing in front of the glass doors, bundled up in a long black puffer jacket, unstyled hair blowing this way and that in the wind. Donghae wants to complain about his own family members and employees selling him out, but the only person within earshot is the very employee who probably ratted him out, so he sits and stews for the thirty seconds it takes for Inwhu to scan his ID at the gate and drive in.
Getting out of the car takes humiliatingly long, even with Inwhu and Hyukjae's help. Hyukjae doesn't say anything as he holds his arm up for Donghae to lean against, but Donghae can see the way the edges of his mouth pull tight.
Once they make it through the front doors, Hyukjae waves Inwhu away, assuring him that the two of them can handle the rest of the journey up alone. When they enter the gleaming metal elevator, Hyukjae presses the button for his own floor, but not Donghae's.
"I ordered too much dakgalbi, so you should have some," he says, preemptively.
Donghae stares at the reflection of their figures in the gleaming metal of the elevator doors: a slim black column standing next to a sad, crooked looking one. He knows his partner is holding back on what he wants to say, but that stings even more. He lets go of Hyukjae's arm, tries to stand a little taller on his own.
"You don't need to—I have food at home," Donghae says. "I just need a warm shower and I'll be fine."
"You mean your sad, unseasoned chicken breast and stir-fried onions?" Hyukjae replies. "I'm not sure I'd really call that food. And,"
he continues, as he places Donghae's hand back on his arm, "as you've barged in several times unannounced while I was using it, I'm sure you know that I have a shower in my apartment too."
Donghae knows Hyukjae is trying to distract him, and the unfortunate reality is that it works. Even though it hurts a little to laugh, he can't help the little chuckle that escapes as he remembers the last time he made a surprise visit while Hyukjae was still washing up.
"I should really bring a recording mic with me next time. I don't think I've ever heard you hit such a high note before. Could be the highlight for our next single."
Even without seeing his face, Donghae can feel Hyukjae rolling his eyes.
"Sure, whatever," he replies with a huff. "Anyway—dakgalbi?"
"Yeah, okay." Donghae says, just as the elevator pings to say they've reached their destination.
Warm dinner and a little bit of gentle stretching with the foam roller Hyukjae digs out from under his couch has Donghae feeling well enough to make it to the shower on his own. When he steps out of the bathroom, he finds Hyukjae in his bedroom laying towels across his bed.
"Are you... planning something for tonight?" he says, a little warily. "I don't know that I'm up for anything too adventurous."
Hyukjae gives him a disbelieving look. "I just thought a massage might be good now that your muscles are relaxed from the warm water. If you're not feeling up for it, I think I have some antiphlamine ointment in the medicine cabinet that I can help you apply."
"Oh, uhm." Donghae hesitates. "Maybe the massage and then the ointment?"
"Sure," Hyukjae replies, gesturing with his hands for Donghae to hand him the towel still wrapped around his waist and lay down.
Hyukjae's hands are firm as they slide down Donghae's skin. This isn't the first time that Donghae has had the luxury of receiving one of Hyukjae's massages but they're enough of a rarity that he always forgets just how powerful those slim fingers can be. Whatever his partner may lack in professional training, he more than makes up for with decades of intimate knowledge of Donghae's body, and Donghae can only hiss in a mix of relief and pain as Hyukjae expertly presses on stiff muscles and hidden knots of tension.
Over the sound of Hyukjae's soft grunts of effort, he hears him breathe out, "The muscles on your back are truly ridiculous, you know."
"Not what they should be though," Donghae mumbles. "I've lost too much muscle tone this tour."
Hyukjae is quiet for a moment, the unrelenting pressure of his hands against Donghae's back changing to long strokes from Donghae's shoulders down to this waist.
"You don't have to do this much. I've told you before, you just have to match with me."
"I just want to be stronger," Donghae says.
"And how's that going for you," Hyukjae retorts, voice sharp. Donghae hears his own breathe catch at the same moment Hyukjae follows up with a rushed, "Wait, sorry, that's not what I wanted to say."
The mattress shifts as Hyukjae gets up. Donghae wonders if he's planning to leave the room, only to feel the bed shift as he moves to lie down next to him, their faces just inches apart.
"I think it's better if we talk about this face to face," Hyukjae says. He reaches down to lace their fingers together, eyes steady. Donghae stares at the nearly-invisible moles on his face; the fine lines and creases around his eyes ; all the parts of Hyukjae he loves.
"Why are you so against me working out?" he finally exhales.
"It's not that I'm against you working out," Hyukjae says. He rubs his thumb against the back of Donghae's hand. "It's more, I think you're not exercising for the right reasons or in the right way."
"I'm only trying to make sure I'm strong and healthy enough to keep performing with you until we're 80. Like we promised," Donghae replies, a little sullenly.
"But it's hurting you. Can't you see that?"
Donghae tries to pull his hand away. "If I just build up a little more—"
"No," Hyukjae says, voice and grip firm. "You're overworking your body. The trainers have told you. The doctors have told you. I've told you." He huffs out a frustrated breath. "I don't know why you won't listen to any of us."
"The other guys at the gym—"
"They're not you," Hyukjae interjects. "Everyone's body is different. What works for them isn't necessarily going to work for you."
"Then what is supposed to work for me?" Donghae bites out.
"I don't know," Hyukjae says. "I don't know, but running down the wrong path isn't going to work either."
The two of them stare at each other for a beat, the hum of the night traffic filling in their silence, before Hyukjae says:
"Why don't we try this. Let's work out together from now on."
Donghae blinks. "What exactly does that solve?"
"We can try things together. Find what works for us. And this way we can hold each other accountable."
Donghae mulls on the idea for a second. "Will you actually come to the gym if I ask? Instead of brushing me off to lie on your couch and rot?"
Hyukjae scrunches his face a little at that, but finally says, "Within reason. We can set up a schedule. We can make it work out."
"I don't know, maybe," Donghae replies. In truth, he has more than a few qualms with this plan, but a lifetime of conditioning means he's almost physically unable to turn down anything that involves working with Hyukjae.
Hyukjae pulls their joined hands up to his lips and presses a soft, dry kiss to the back of Donghae's hand.
"You know I'll love you even if you go back to being the scrawny teenager I met at the SM cafeteria, right?"
"That's not—"
"We'll make it work out," Hyukjae repeats. "If we do it together, we'll make it work." He lets go of Donghae's hand and rolls off the bed. "Let me apply antiphlamine ointment and then we can get ready for bed."
Donghae sighs, nods as best he can with his head still pillowed on one of his arms, and lets himself drift off to the tingling warmth of the ointment and the warm pressure of Hyukjae's hands.