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The first time Chauyuet and Zheyi meet, it's raining.
It's raining, and Chauyuet stands outside the MNET building, clutching his haphazardly assembled audition papers. When he steps inside, the lobby is empty except for one other person pacing back and forth, hands clenched behind his back, damp hair matted to his forehead.
At first, the boy doesn't seem to register his entrance, perhaps too absorbed in his thoughts, but he still quickly moves across the lobby, his shoes squeaking on the polished floor.
Chauyuet hesitates, then awkwardly clears his throat. The other boy's head snaps up, the tension on his face dissolving into a warmth so sudden it sends a flutter through Chauyuet's chest.
"Well, hello," he breaks the ice, furling his umbrella as water drips onto the marble floor. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his oversized hoodie—and holy shit, he's tall, he thinks, as he stares down at him with a look Chauyuet can only describe as… kind?
An unusually kind and gentle stare, he notices. It's not something he is used to seeing from others, especially, but still, it felt nice.
"I'm here for… the Boys 2 Planet audition?" Chauyuet continues, assuming the other was too, and the boy exhales, leaning against the vacant reception desk.
"My name is Fan Zheyi," he mutters, fingers fidgeting with the drawstrings of his hoodie. "I… I think I accidentally came here too early."
"Oh?" Chauyuet's gaze lands on his wristwatch, and they were, in fact, an hour ahead of schedule. A smile slowly forms on his face. It must've been the collective nerves, he thinks, though a part of him reasons that it's better to show up early than not show up at all.
Zheyi nods again, arms crossing tightly over his chest. For a moment, Chauyuet swears he catches the faintest tremble coming from his body, so in a fit of what might be impulsivity, or stupidity, depending on how you see it, he asks:
"My name is Ngan...Chauyuet. Um. Anyways, you want to have my jacket for now? You seem really… cold?"
Fuck, of course he is. Chauyuet immediately tells himself off, noticing droplets of water dripping from the strands of Zheyi's hair. He's soaked from head to toe.
Zheyi stares at him for a moment, disbelief in his eyes. Before Chauyuet could die of complete and utter embarrassment, he nods again, hands unfurling to grab onto the bomber jacket. His fingers brush against Chauyuet's for half a second—just long enough for Chauyuet to truly feel how cold they are—before he pulls the jacket close. "...Thank you so much."
It's barely more than a whisper, but something about the way he says it makes Chauyuet's heartbeat shoot straight up.
No big deal, he wants to say, but the words are lodged tight in his throat.
By now, the entire lobby feels a lot warmer. Despite the total silence settling between them, it no longer feels as uncomfortable or tense; the awkwardness already melted into something a little more bearable. Chauyuet realizes this as he watches Zheyi fondle the zipper of his jacket, his expression already way more relaxed than when they had first begun.
As he watches the hands on his watch tick by, a newfound smile tugs at his own lips.
He has a feeling they're both going to do well.
The next time Chauyuet and Zheyi are together, it's also raining.
The catch, though, is that this time they're not even supposed to be here.
Chauyuet had always thought the idea of a curfew was stupid. They were adults getting some snacks; what could be so offensive? But it's even more stupid that they were doing all this for some flop survival show.
0.4% viewership rate. Isn't this a bit too strict for a show with that kind of turnout?
And yet, here they are. In the middle of the nearest convenience store in their pyjamas. Chauyuet's leaning against the glass doors when he sees him, that same sharp silhouette materializing from the downpour. Zheyi. Blond hair plastered to his forehead, white t-shirt translucent against his skin, looking for all the world like a drowned kitten. In his hands are two bags worth of snacks from other convenience stores, ready to be consumed by the hungriest of trainees.
Chauyuet opens his mouth to greet him, but Zheyi beats him to it.
"Do you think MNET will kill us for sneaking out?" He suddenly asks, in a tone so genuine and concerned that Chauyuet laughs. Not just a chuckle, but a full-blown laugh. One that resonates just a bit too loudly for Zheyi's liking, because before he could get another word in, Zheyi shoves something rough... and strangely textured in his mouth...?
Chauyuet blinks as the taste of cheap pastry floods his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the unexpected intrusion. It's slightly sweet, faintly salty... and unmistakably a piece of bread.
A piece of stale, dry convenience-store bread.
While he's busy processing its mediocre flavour, he catches Zheyi staring at him from the corner of his eye, expression frozen in stone-cold seriousness.
"Chauyuet-ge, be careful..." Zheyi's voice drops to an intentional whisper, barely cutting through the pounding rain. "What if they hear us… and kick us out of the show?" His eyes dart nervously toward the store entrance. "What would Home Race be without us, really?"
Chauyuet bites the inside of his cheek to suppress another chuckle, the bread suddenly feeling like both a gag and a peace offering in his mouth. The idea of two grown men being on the run from one of Korea's biggest broadcasting companies over a 40,000-won snack run drives him absolutely insane.
It's alright, though—Hengyu could definitely cover for us, he reckons. Him and that eternally good PR of his.
As if Zheyi could read his mind, he immediately slaps him on the back and tells him to hurry up, complaining that this is his second time back in Korea and that he wouldn't fumble his chances of debuting over some snacks.
"For the record, these ssoteoks mean a lot to me!" Chauyuet exclaims, dragging a bunch of other items into his basket. He approaches the cashier with newfound fervour, waving his wallet around in excitement and even doing a twirl while he lays out all the food on the counter.
"But wait, how are we gonna get back to the dorms?" Zheyi interrupts his little victory dance to draw his attention to the elephant in the room. He points to the storm brewing outside, which by now had turned into a dark and stormy mass.
"Funny you would ask... because!" Chauyuet then immediately shoves his hands in his coat and produces a new umbrella from his pocket, much to Zheyi's complete and utter dismay.
"Y-you couldn't have brought this out earlier?" He whines as quietly as he can. They both walk beyond the threshold of the store, one sopping-wet hand holding onto the umbrella, the other onto their late-night convenience store finds. "If Sun-ge doesn't kill you first when he finds out, then I will."
"You looked cute! What can I say?" Chauyuet remarks casually. In response, Zheyi smacks him again, this time with way more force to his punch.
Well, okay. Maybe he deserved that one.