the adults are talking

by obfuscates

Summary:

Wooyoung and Yeosang, better known collectively as the commercially successful band Neon Foxes, face a crisis in the band's future and as individuals with shared, complex history.

Notes:

• inspired by this picture which screamed two-man rock band, at least to me.
• the plot is also inspired by the black keys' go music video :) evidently, this kind of grew beyond what i thought of and took on a life of its own, but i hope you enjoy this attempt at a band!AU.

day 0

It begins, as a lot of things oft do, with an intervention.

“You both know exactly why you are here,” Park Seonghwa, the head of the label, taps impatiently on the arm of his leather chair. “The directors have decided that they’ve - all of us, rather, have had quite enough of your cold war foolishness that has gone on for far too long now. You’re both in no state for us to be sending you off on tour like this.”

In front of him, the two men who have been decidedly refusing to look at, let alone acknowledge each other for a good four years now, choose silence still - much to Seonghwa’s frustration.

Seonghwa sighs, rubbing at his temples. Sure, he’s also earned substantial royalties from their band Neon Foxes, but he still thinks he’s not fucking paid enough to handle their shit. Their past few interactions - conversations were far too generous of a term - felt a lot like marriage counseling.

“You both know what happens if you still refuse to get your shit together, right?” Seonghwa taps his fingers all the louder against the fine leather. “We’ll have to escalate things to the next stage of mediation. And I seriously doubt that neither of you are going to like it,” Seonghwa says, bite evident in his voice.

Yeosang doesn’t even bother looking at either of them, opting to toy with the tassels dangling from the sleeves of his leather jacket. Wooyoung, meanwhile, scratches distractedly at the tip of his nose, and Seonghwa has known him long enough to know when Wooyoung has mentally checked out.

Seonghwa bites back his rising rage, nearly drawing blood from his lower lip. “Alright, then, since you both insist on being so stubborn. Very well. The decision is final,” Seonghwa laces his hands together, resembling somewhat of a cartoonish villain. “We’re sending you to that famous retreat center.”

Wooyoung and Yeosang then finally decide to pay attention. Wooyoung gets up first, and Seonghwa braces himself for a strike or two.

After Seonghwa adjusts his collar, and Wooyoung has gotten out some of his pent up emotions from his system, they’re all seated down once again.

“Three days,” Seonghwa says, patting down his shirt. “You’re getting three days. We don’t have the luxury to send you there for a whole month, as we’ve a schedule to follow.” Which was true, because the label had very recently announced that the band would be embarking on a world tour.

“You’re serious,” Wooyoung says, gnawing on his teeth.

“At last, he speaks!” Seonghwa says, lifting his hands in the air. He’s always had a penchant for being slightly theatric. “I was starting to think I might forget how your voice sounded.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “You can’t be serious. I’m not sure what you think can be achieved in three whole days.”

Seonghwa hums, glancing into the distance. “Lots of miracles can happen in three days. I’m sure you’re familiar with the stories,” he smiles wryly.

“Whatever,” Wooyoung says, already getting up halfway from the couch. “Fuck, I’ll do whatever gets you out of my hair at this point,” he huffs, before he slides his hands into the pockets of his jacket, making himself quickly scarce from the room.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Seonghwa turns to Yeosang, who looks blankly back at him. Yeosang shakes his head wordlessly, and it’s as though he’s timing it perfectly so that he doesn’t have to get stuck with Wooyoung at the lift lobby, or in the elevator itself before he actually leaves Seonghwa’s office.

Once the both of them have disappeared from Seonghwa’s sight, Seonghwa rests his forehead against his folded hands, then looks up at the ceiling.

He’s hoping for a real miracle now. Neon Foxes was very much hanging in the balance, and Seonghwa needs them to do a lot more than just hanging by on a thread.

 

 

 

 

day -1

The car ride to the retreat needless to say is awkward as fuck. It’s only the manager, and the two of them stuck together for three hours. Which is a lot more that what Wooyoung and Yeosang have done within the past few years combined.

Our next song is a cult classic - Panic Station, by Neon Foxes, the hit band from Seoul. Hey, Younghyun-ssi, ever wondered what they’re up to these days?

They’re going on a world tour soon, aren’t they? I wonder how they’re going to travel so many places for so long without wanting to kill the other.

That bad?

The manager, without a moment’s hesitation, jams his palm against the power button of the car radio, wincing softly at the way too hard direct contact.

“It’s alright, hyung,” Wooyoung remarks dryly, arms folded over his chest. “They aren’t saying anything new.”

Nothing remotely fucking original is what Wooyoung doesn’t say, clamping his teeth down so that the words can’t escape. At the beginning of whatever twisted cold war that he and Yeosang had going on, the remarks they got from outsiders were especially bad. It was always the same old rhetoric - that they now detested each other, that their performances and music were becoming formulaic, too predictable, nothing like what they were pushing out in their ‘prime years’, whenever the fuck that actually was. Some even went as far as to say that they ought to take a break, or even disband altogether.

That’s completely out of the bloody question, Wooyoung had remembered himself saying during a particularly terse emergency meeting in Seonghwa’s office, where it was just him, Yeosang and Seonghwa standing around his desk. Even though there was definitely something very wrong going on, something that had dug a deep trench between them, Wooyoung knew deep inside that there were few other people he wanted to make music with.

It was indeed a strange dynamic - he didn’t want to even share the same space as Yeosang, yet at the same time he didn’t feel a strong inclination to go solo or to find a new drummer altogether. As to the exact reasons why, Wooyoung hadn’t yet reached a conclusion that he found satisfactory as of right now. What was funny too, was that Yeosang didn’t say anything either. He didn’t say that he wanted to leave, or to find someone else to play drums for. Then again, in all the time he’s known Yeosang, Yeosang was a man of few words, but the kind where when he opened his mouth, others had to listen.

But Wooyoung doesn’t just wear his heart on his sleeve, he wears a ramrod obstinacy on it too. As much as the comments annoyed him, and aggravated him on bad days, he chose to ignore them. And he’s proud to say he never fired back once in retaliation - the PR training he received had paid off, after all. (That was also what private Twitter accounts were for - not that Seonghwa had to know that fact.)

Wooyoung decides to stare out the window for the remainder of the journey, since there was nothing else to look at, and he wasn’t exactly planning on staring at Yeosang’s side profile for hours; plus the retreat center also forbade them from bringing their phones.

It was also decided between the label’s management and the retreat center that Wooyoung and Yeosang could arrive one day earlier, so that they could get a tour of the premises and settle themselves in.

By the time the car pulls up at the foyer of the retreat center - Wooyoung reads the enormous print as SERENITY HILLS COMMUNITY LIVING RETREAT - his stomach is already protesting from hunger.

“Don’t worry, there’s lunch provided for you guys,” the manager glances back through the rear view mirror, reassuring the both of them.

No sooner are they out of the car, when they’re welcomed by a high pitched voice. Wooyoung absently thinks the guy has quite a nice tenor-like register. Occupational hazards and all.

“Welcome, welcome!” the guy says, clapping his hands slowly, the jewelry on his hands making noise as he does. He walks - no, saunters over with a Bowie-type elegance which Wooyoung lowkey kind of envies, actually. The man possesses a certain type of poise that many frontmen currently could only dream of, in Wooyoung’s opinion.

“Ah, you must be Hongjoong-ssi,” the manager says. “You’re the one running this place, correct?”

The one apparently named Hongjoong nods enthusiastically. He’s draped in so much cloth and jewelry that Wooyoung thinks that he wouldn’t be out of place if he were tossed directly onto a Glastonbury or Lollapalooza center stage or something.

“Yes, my good sir. My name is Hongjoong, and I would rather call myself the proud custodian of Serenity Hills. I am only but a conduit for the peace and happiness that Serenity Hills can bring,” he says a tad dramatically, waving his hands, the draping fabric of his clothes moving as he does.

Huh boy, Wooyoung thinks. He sincerely hopes that Seonghwa didn’t sign them up unintentionally to stay at a cultish compound or something, from the way Hongjoong was going on about peace and happiness.

“And the both of you must be our newest entrants to Serenity Hills,” Hongjoong takes a few steps closer to stand in front of Wooyoung and Yeosang, who have matching blank stares as they look at him.

“Yep, these are Wooyoung and Yeosang,” the manager adds helpfully. “As agreed upon, they will be in your good care for the next three days.”

“Indeed, I recall the message from your boss,” Hongjoong says with a rather solemn timbre. “We’ll do our best for them,” he says, as though Wooyoung and Yeosang were indeed in need of truly dire help or something.

Wooyoung, however, when he looks over at Yeosang, doesn’t exactly have the highest hopes for these few days. He’s just here because it’s part of their contract to listen to Seonghwa anyways.

“Alright, you two,” the manager starts. “Be good and listen to Hongjoong-ssi, yeah?” He speaks to them as though they’re a pair of defiant high school kids. “I don’t want to come back here any earlier than was agreed upon.”

Hongjoong merely laughs him off. “Fret not,” he places a hand on one of Wooyoung and Yeosang’s shoulders. “They’ll be in very good hands.”

That, for some reason, makes both Wooyoung and Yeosang vaguely unsettled, and for the first time in what seems like nearly an eternity, they look at each other, exchanging shared expressions of what can be best described as dread.

After their manager has driven off, the car vanishing into the distance, Hongjoong tightens his grasp on Wooyoung and Yeosang’s shoulders. “Come, both of you. You must be starving, I heard you took three whole hours just to get here.”

Yeosang nods wordlessly, making Hongjoong smile in response. “Follow me right this way. Watch your step, though, the terrain here can be quite uneven since we are in the hills, after all.”

They follow closely behind Hongjoong, heeding his advice as they glance towards the ground, minding the terrain. Good thing neither of them were wearing the heeled boots that they usually performed with, anyways.

As they walk towards what must be the compound’s dining hall or something, Wooyoung looks from the corner of his eye towards Yeosang, who’s clutching his duffel bag closely to him, not saying a single word. If only for a split second, a flash of concern crosses Wooyoung’s thoughts, wondering if Yeosang’s rather lumpy looking bag might be heavy for him as they make the climb uphill. But then again, Yeosang worked out quite regularly, so he must have decent arm strength. So Wooyoung decides to look away, staring instead at the back of Hongjoong’s head.

Hongjoong, of course, has been rattling on for the past few minutes or so non stop about the history of Serenity Hills. Obviously, neither Wooyoung nor Yeosang have truly been paying attention to what he’s been saying. Wooyoung has only vaguely caught something about some brief land dispute with the municipal government, and then something about how Hongjoong’s predecessor mysteriously vanished, to have his face plastered over the news for some seemingly unknown reason.

(Tax fraud or money laundering, Wooyoung theorizes. It must be either of those. Wooyoung has watched enough Netflix documentaries to make an educated guess on these types of places.)

When they get to the dining hall, the place is largely empty save for those who are running the kitchen. There’s a mix of middle aged and younger kitchen staff, and they greet Hongjoong with rather hauntingly sunny smiles.

Hongjoong gets the two of them to sit down at one of the tables, facing each other. He helps them to get glasses of water, from one of those old timey dispensers that Wooyoung has seen as a fixture of hipster cafes.

One of the older kitchen staff comes to them with trays of food. It actually smells delicious, to both their relief. Hongjoong then looms over them, his grin wide. “All of the food here is grown in the greenhouse behind our compound. It’s a hundred percent organic, pesticide free, and because we believe in clean living, our food is also vegan.”

Yeosang nearly splutters, having taken a long swig of his water. Wooyoung looks at Yeosang, expression still.

“Vegan,” Wooyoung deadpans. “So there’s no meat, eggs, dairy or seafood.”

“Nope!” Hongjoong replies chirpily, shaking his head. “But all of it is really good, though, I swear on it! Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” he says with a wink.

Wooyoung has watched Midsommar. He hopes that at the end of the three days, neither he nor Yeosang end up in similar fates to the characters there. He digs his fork into the food, taking a small, careful bite. He chews slowly, taking in whatever mysterious flavors were in the food.

Shit, Wooyoung thinks. It’s actually not all that bad. He looks across the table at Yeosang, who tries the food as well, and Wooyoung fully expects him to spit it out.

He does not, and Wooyoung quirks an eyebrow in pure surprise. If even Yeosang, who had a well-known love for fried chicken that couldn’t rival anyone else Wooyoung knew, the food must be pretty darn good. At least, if everything else about the retreat was going to be shitty, the food wasn’t going to be. That would be one respite, at least.

Hongjoong leaves them be, shortly after he’s gotten the reassurance that neither of them were going to spit up the food or throw the plates back in his face. In between bites, Wooyoung glances to the right of the dining hall, where the blinds have been drawn and the afternoon sun is coming in. He can actually see how clear the sky is, and how quiet the place is. It’s been a long time since Wooyoung has experienced anything close to this kind of silence and stillness since he was thrown into the craziness of his music career.

He sneaks another glance at Yeosang again, and he’s not sure whether it’s the setting of the place, or the plating of the meal, but he finds himself being brought back in time, to the first place where he and Yeosang first met.

 

 

 

take it to the reprise (some years before)

Wooyoung and Yeosang first met when both of them were in high school. In fact, the whole concept of the band had not come until much later. Their lives actually had a completely different trajectory, until they mutually decided to take another road.

Wooyoung remembers that Yeosang, who had been in his class, kept to his usual small group of friends - although there were some days where he preferred being alone. There was something about Yeosang which had intrigued Wooyoung, whether it was the perceived mystique that he appeared to possess, or something else, that Wooyoung wanted to get a little closer.

The first few times where Wooyoung tried to introduce himself, it was more like he was barrel rolling directly into Yeosang’s life. During the times where Yeosang sat alone during lunchtime, Wooyoung would insistently set his tray down in front of Yeosang. Yeosang, upon seeing that his solitude had been disturbed, would pick up his tray wordlessly and find somewhere else to sit.

Wooyoung was nothing if not persistent - that trait remained with him until the present. So he continued to try to put himself in Yeosang’s presence, though he changed his tactics a little. Sometimes, he would save a bottle of precious banana milk, plopping it down on Yeosang’s desk especially during test season when it was particularly stressful for everyone. After some time, Wooyoung’s determination paid off, and Yeosang actually said his first words to him, though brief.

It meant the world to Wooyoung at the time.

Of course, Yeosang had his guard up at the start, wondering why one of the most popular guys in their school would want to have anything to do with him. But Wooyoung never seemed to give a damn, and soon shared lunchtimes turned into after school hangouts, and both of their mothers knew them on a first name basis, even.

Interestingly, their friendship also took them on another path - auditioning to become idols in hopes of actually debuting, hopefully too in the same team. Both of them ended up passing the auditions and becoming trainees at one of the more established major companies.

Years into training, one late night where the both of them were slumped exhausted on the practice floor, Wooyoung breaks the silence, voicing a thought that had been on his mind for some time already - ironic as he was the best trainee of their batch, actually.

“I think I don’t want to do this anymore, for real,” Wooyoung had said, panting, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The both of them had been practicing a particularly intense EXO number to prepare for another monthly evaluation which would decide which trainees would be cut, and who would stay.

“Really?” Yeosang had said in his soft voice.

“Yeah, fuck it all,” Wooyoung waves a hand, plopping it onto the hard parquet floor next to him. “I think I wanna go for something else,” he said, tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip, tasting sweat.

“Oh. Well, um. I think I feel the same too,” Yeosang admits quietly. That makes Wooyoung sit up so quickly he nearly falls over from the dizziness, pulling Yeosang into a tight hug despite his complaints about the both of them being sweaty from hours of dance practice in long sleeved sweatshirts and long pants.

They’re considered very lucky compared to some of their peers - somehow by some stroke of luck, they manage to cut off their trainee contracts, freeing them of their bond to the company.

“What should we do next, Wooyoung-ah?” Yeosang had asked on that last day where the both of them stood outside the doors of their former company building.

Wooyoung purses his lips, squinting. He looks around them, and across the road from the company building, something catches his attention, and a thoughtful grin spreads on his face.

“I think - I think we should start a band, actually,” he turns to Yeosang, smirking.

Yeosang blinks at him, lips falling open to form a small “o”. But then, like most times, he ends up going with Wooyoung’s idea. They would have to relearn some things, and pick up the instrument of their choice from scratch, but at least for now they could be assured that the both of them seemed to be on the same page.

 

 

 

day -1, present

The two of them finish their meal in silence. If it were any other time, without the current baggage that was weighing the both of them down, Wooyoung would definitely have brought up the shared memories of their past.

But then, the current reality was much too heavy for him to do that. For all he knew, Yeosang might take his fork and attack him with it, or something. He has a pretty good feeling, deep inside that Yeosang has possibly several grievances with him - though he’s never actually done anything to verify that claim of his. Not that he’s a saint, either, he’s been tossing his weight around, causing problems not just for the label or band, but for Yeosang as well.

Noticing that the two of them have cleared their plates, Hongjoong returns again. “Well, looks like the both of you enjoyed your meal,” he beams. “I think now would be a good time to give you a tour of the place so you don’t get lost, and to show you to your respective rooms.”

Wooyoung actually feels glad that they’re going to be rooming separately - he’s relieved that this isn’t one of those retreats which force you into a shared proximity. That just might end up making what is already bad become much worse.

Hongjoong shows them out of the dining hall, and they take a hewn stone path to the main building. Of course, Hongjoong has to start them off with what seems like a delegated area that acts as the museum for Serenity Hills. There is a marble bust of the founder, a balding old man with a calm expression on his face. On the walls are printed panels containing the detailed history of the premises, and how it's grown into a full-fledged retreat center with full amenities.

After the quick history lesson, Hongjoong takes them further into the compound, where in the middle there is a large fountain spewing water. There is a stone figure of some person meditating in the middle. Sitting around the fountain must be some of the members of the place, who are immersed in their own activities. Some of them look like they’re either journaling or sketching, while others are seated on the patch of grass nearby, deep in some kind of meditative state. It’s still somewhat unsettling to Wooyoung, who’s being reminded of those Netflix documentaries he’d watched about fringe groups.

Occasionally, some of the retreat center members who see them on the way greet Hongjoong with a slight bow, and to Wooyoung and Yeosang, they would fold their hands together like in prayer, in some gesture of peace and good tiding.

The two of them return the greetings of the center members rather awkwardly with slight bows and strained smiles. Hongjoong would also introduce some of them, especially the members in charge of looking after specific areas and aspects of the retreat experience. Again, neither of them are truly paying attention, wanting it to just get done and over with.

Eventually, they end up at the building which most likely is the block set aside as the living quarters of the center. There are some small fixtures, like fountains and manmade ponds, which add to the quiet of the place. Hongjoong takes them upstairs, to the second floor where their rooms would be.

Of course, their rooms aren’t side by side, and are in fact on opposite ends of the corridor. Wooyoung waits by the central staircase as Hongjoong shows Yeosang to his room, handing him his key and letting him inside. Once Yeosang has shut the door, Hongjoong walks back to an awaiting Wooyoung.

“Alright, let’s show you your home for the next few days, Wooyoung-ssi,” Hongjoong hums cheerfully, nudging Wooyoung towards the opposite side of the floor. His room is at the end of the corridor, to his relief. Hongjoong helps him unlock the door to his room, and the moment the door swings open, Wooyoung is hit with a strong aromatherapy type of scent. He’s no expert on the difference between lavender, eucalyptus and whatever, but he cannot deny that it smells good.

Hongjoong helps him with the lights, explaining to him where the power switches were. Wooyoung had half expected them to not run on electricity since the place seemed to be very keen on clean living and all that. There is also an attached ensuite bathroom, which is kept very clean and also smells strongly of some aromatherapy scent.

After Hongjoong has done a quick rundown of the amenities of the room, he pauses in front of the door with a wry smile. “Also, Wooyoung-ssi, I should emphasize that since Serenity Hills prides itself with clean living, and I’m not sure if the rules have been explained to you, but we don’t allow anything with carcinogens here,” he says.

Wooyoung raises a confused brow at Hongjoong, who chuckles. “What I mean is, hand them over.”

“Huh?” Wooyoung blurts.

“I know you have a box in your bag,” Hongjoong hums. “C’mon. Hand it over.”

Wooyoung groans, rolling his eyes as he goes to rummage through his bag, before surrendering his pack of cigarettes to Hongjoong.

“You’ll be fine without it for the next few days. Besides, as you probably might have picked up on it, we use plenty of natural scents,” Hongjoong smiles, before he opens the door slowly. “As I’ve told Yeosang as well, we’ll see you in the central field at half past seven tomorrow morning. The rest of the time is yours, but try to handle everything you see with care, hmm? The place is older than it looks. As for dinner, it’ll be ready from half past six, so you can drop by the dining hall anytime for your meal.”

Wooyoung nods mutely before Hongjoong slips out the door, and Wooyoung closes it with a firm click before he leans against the door, feeling like he could relax somewhat.

He wonders if he’s going to make it through the next few days without wanting to wring someone by the neck, or to wreck something in the place.

For now, he plops himself onto the soft bed, staring up at the blank ceiling. He lifts his wrist, checking his watch. He would have a few more hours before dinnertime. Hongjoong had said that he was at liberty to explore the place, so that was what he was going to do.

And maybe, it might bring him some kind of amusement to uncover some potential secrets about the premises.

 

 

Meanwhile, Yeosang is setting everything up nicely in his room in a way that would make him feel more comfortable for the next few days. He lays out the blankets and towels as he pleases, placing his toiletries neatly on the bathroom sink. He looks up to briefly look at his reflection in the mirror.

He’s still not too sure completely as to why he’s here - as to why both of them were here. Sure, he and Wooyoung had not properly spoken in years, and at this point their relationship was pretty much akin to a rope on the verge of snapping. But he was never one to have minded long periods of silence, and he in fact wouldn’t have minded not talking.

What he won’t completely deny, however, is that gnawing feeling in his chest; a tiny part of him that has in fact kind of missed hearing Wooyoung’s voice. It is quite inevitable, considering the years they’ve shared between them and how they’ve carved out parts in each other’s lives.

Though as much as he still has some reserves of anger and frustration at Wooyoung that had accumulated over the years, he hasn’t reached that point where he feels so inclined to completely cut Wooyoung off.

Seonghwa said the whole point of this retreat was to, for lack of a better word, help salvage whatever was left between them, after all. Yeosang knows full well how crucial it is, especially since they were going to embark on one of their biggest tours yet. They were already booked for a few major music festivals, as well as some huge venues in certain cities as well. If they weren’t able to even provide a semblance of civility at least for the fans on stage, then all would be quite lost.

The band’s narrative also banked a lot on their longstanding bond, after all. Many of their contemporaries with similar origin stories had faded out and disbanded. Few were left, hanging on to their glory days. Neon Foxes was considered one of the lucky ones, and Yeosang was actually quite proud of the music they’d been making. It also helped that their other co-writer, San, was great at what he did too. Though he came into the picture later, he understood well what Wooyoung and Yeosang wanted to go for, music wise, and that led to many critically acclaimed releases.

But most of what kept Neon Foxes going was the chronicle of their friendship, which had been told ad nauseum on many a radio show and many a television appearance. Yeosang, however, especially in the earlier days of the band as they made their rise, never tired of it. He remembers recalling how he first met Wooyoung in school, how their dreams at first were starkly different - and how they ended up trading glittery, matching costumes for more laidback outfits which also matched the stages they found themselves on.

For now, though, Yeosang has yet to find himself in that specific mood where he can muster up the energy to utter something, anything to Wooyoung. He knows he’s not ready yet. He both lacks the energy, and also there was the possibility of something, anything setting him off and triggering him into potentially saying something he might regret for life. He doesn’t think he wants them to end up like the Gallaghers.

The other as yet unanswered question remained - whether Wooyoung would be even remotely interested in patching things up. To Yeosang, at least, in the past few tumultuous years they’ve had, it appeared to him as though Wooyoung had a devil-may care attitude to many things, throwing his weight around and living as he pleased. At least, that was how things appeared both on social media and on various news outlets. Rock’s wild child were the tabloids’ flavor of the day for Wooyoung.

If Wooyoung at the end of the three days wanted to bury Neon Foxes into the ground, Yeosang thinks somewhat bitterly, then so be it. But the more important thing to Yeosang was the question of whatever was left of their friendship, too. Sure, with them rocketing to stardom, they had managed to rub shoulders with many other industry peers, and Wooyoung found himself in the company of a clique of popular artists. Yeosang had questioned a few times his place in Wooyoung’s life, whether there was room for him left.

There were other underlying things too, which Yeosang isn’t too sure if he even wants to bring to the surface within these few days at Serenity Hills. But then again, this was what the space was for.

He checks his watch - there was just a bit of time before dinner. He thinks he might stay here in his room, read the volume of manga he had brought along, one that he hadn’t had the time to catch up on, before going to eat.

And after that, he would try to sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day, from the way Hongjoong had described it, since it would be an early start.

 

 

 

 

day 1

Wooyoung wakes up to what sounds like the incessant sound of a gong being loudly hit against. He forces himself to get out of bed, rubbing at his head. It was way too loud for his liking, rather ironic considering what he was used to - the cacophony of back to back days of music festivals and going half deaf by the end of it.

He drags his feet to the bathroom, nearly falling over when he sees his reflection in the mirror. His hair is all over the place, and as much as he’s rather tempted to be defiant, he has a feeling he shouldn’t get on Hongjoong’s bad side or something - remembering some of the horrors he’d seen from those Netflix documentaries.

Wooyoung takes a few minutes to brush his teeth, doing a quick wash up before he changes to a clean, comfortable set of clothes. Since the retreat center appeared to place a heavy focus on meditation and activities at a slower pace, he opts for sweats.

It’s only mildly awkward when he opens his room door and he sees Yeosang also leaving his room at the same time. Their eyes meet, and Wooyoung nods at Yeosang, since he couldn’t hide away or pretend otherwise. Yeosang on the other hand stands frozen in place, blinking at him before crouching down to tie his shoes. Well, at least it’s better than being treated as though he was completely invisible, Wooyoung thinks as he makes his way down the stairs to the central field where they would begin their first day of the retreat.

By the time Wooyoung and Yeosang arrive at the field, the other retreat center members are already there, with Hongjoong standing right in front. When he realizes they’ve arrived, he clasps his hands together excitedly. “My friends, let us welcome our newest friends to Serenity Hills. Please extend your warmest welcomes to Wooyoung and Yeosang.”

The retreat center members applaud enthusiastically for them, wearing genuine smiles as Wooyoung and Yeosang take their places awkwardly towards the back. They’re directed to two empty mats that they could use for the morning’s meditation.

“Now that everyone is here, let us begin this morning’s meditation. Our team for today is inner peace,” Hongjoong hums, closing his eyes. “Let us take a seat on our mats, and ensure you are seated in the proper posture.”

Wooyoung tries to follow what the others are doing as they slowly take their seats, crossing their legs, tucking their feet beneath their calves. They rest their hands on their knees, and Hongjoong begins to lead them in some sort of chant that is new to Wooyoung.

“Find the place of your inner peace. Center yourself, slow your breathing - uneven breathing only means that you are not relaxed and ready to begin the day.” Hongjoong then continues to drone on about visualizing an image of some imaginary place that equated to relaxation for them.

Wooyoung pops one eye open, peeking at the surroundings around him. He’s never been fantastic at keeping completely still, and gets distracted easily. He first takes a peep at Yeosang, who looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing, breathing steadily, posture just like the others.

Next to him, one of the retreat center members, a young guy with a very imposing height, whispers at him. “You have to be very still, friend,” the guy says. “If not it’s going to be very difficult to find the inner peace that you’re trying to seek.”

 

 

Wooyoung grumbles under his breath, something about it being an impossible feat for him. The guy ignores him, proceeding to say, “if you’re already lacking peace within the deepest part of your heart, it’s going to translate to the outside as well. That’s why you keep fidgeting.”
“Well then,” Wooyoung hisses. “How do you suggest I start going about it, then?”

“Find a memory that gives you inner peace,” the guy says with a warm smile, not minding that Wooyoung looked to be on the verge of losing his cool. “Then let it lead you.”

Wooyoung sighs. A memory that gives me inner peace, he thinks. He tries his best to look back at whatever he could remember - which wasn’t really that much to begin with.

Then, his mind lands on something. It’s a memory from his high school days, where he’s seated on the rooftop. He’s gazing out to the distance, above the roofs of the buildings, trees and the mountains in the distance. When he turns to his left, there’s someone seated next to him.

Yeosang?

“Aah!” Wooyoung doesn’t even realize he’s vocalized his shock, loudly at that - when he sees several pairs of shocked and some disapproving eyes all glancing at his direction. He feels his cheeks redden, when Hongjoong clears his throat.

“Well, uh, that’s a start,” he says, laughing rather awkwardly. “But, um, Wooyoung-ssi, you’ll need to keep it down, because we are in the midst of meditating after all.” He waves his hand, gesturing for everyone else to rediscover their point of focus, before returning to their meditative states.

Wooyoung huffs, looking over at Yeosang who appears unfazed.

It was going to be a long morning.

 

 

Apparently, the morning’s meditation was only but a warm up of the day’s activities. After a healthy breakfast consisting of oats, fruit and yogurt, Wooyoung and Yeosang find themselves ushered into a tent with Hongjoong, on a gazebo near a body of water that resembles a lake.

“Welcome, my friends,” Hongjoong says. “We begin your journey here, at the start of this path.”

Wooyoung’s mind has already started wandering. He thinks that Hongjoong, if not for the fact that he was taking care of whatever this retreat place was, would have made a fantastic lyricist.

Hongjoong picks up what looks like a smudge stick of sage, waving it around. Wooyoung starts coughing, covering his mouth when he feels a thick cloud of smoke brush onto his face, entering his nostrils.

“We start by cleansing our energies of anything that might be disruptive or pressing down onto our thoughts. What we want to achieve is a mind that is clear and free, so that we can tap on the thoughts and memories that we need to,” Hongjoong explains with the patience of a sage, one hand pressing firmly on Wooyoung’s shoulder, as though the action would help to ground him and keep him from distraction.

“Release the negative feelings and energy as you exhale - remember to keep your breathing slow and deep,” Hongjoong says, enunciating every word like a teacher explaining something to young students.

Wooyoung tries to steady his breathing - he doesn’t even realize Hongjoong has moved to stand behind him, hand gentle on his back as he helps him count his way through his breathing. Eventually, Wooyoung manages to somehow find some rhythm that works, and true enough, his breathing slows.

A few moments pass, and behind him, Wooyoung can hear Hongjoong slowly getting up to move back to sit between the two of them. “Now that your minds are clear, I will now ask the both of you to open your eyes, and look directly at each other.”

Both Wooyoung and Yeosang do as they’re told, and perhaps for the first time in years now, they’re actually looking the other in the eye. Not avoiding eye contact, nor trying to resist.

“Good,” Hongjoong says with a gentle nod. “We’re just going to spend the first few minutes quietly like this. Make sure that your mind is kept clear - if anything pops up in your mind, I don’t want you to dismiss it immediately. But I don’t want it to disrupt this time either, so I need you to acknowledge whatever comes - be it a feeling, or a memory. Then, send it elsewhere - to the air around you, to the sky, I leave it to what works for you. Remember, all this is for you.”

Yeosang looks at Wooyoung, studying his features. He hasn’t even properly realized that Wooyoung had recently cut his hair. When did he cut his hair, Yeosang wonders to himself. Usually, especially back in their “better” days where they still spoke, Wooyoung would have told Yeosang almost anything over text message. Yeosang can’t even put his finger on the point where all of that seemed to have stopped. He visibly frowns as he lets those thoughts wash over him. Nothing was off-limits, but Yeosang thinks that was probably a thing of the past now. After all, Wooyoung now had so many friends he could turn to - friends who were not him.

Friends who were perhaps better than him.

Was Yeosang that bad of a friend, he thinks. Sure, he may not have been the best texter, and there were times where he deliberately shrugged off plans that Wooyoung had made. He wonders if it all had a cumulative effect which kind of lead to this point, them just drifting apart as though it were the most natural consequence of it all.

Yeosang lets out an audible, dragged out sigh, his forehead creasing more deeply as he frowns. Wooyoung is still looking back at him - Yeosang doesn’t know what’s going on in that mind of his. He can’t even gauge by Wooyoung’s expression alone if he was mentally present, not just present with his body.

Somehow, all of these thoughts swirling at once is making Yeosang increasingly upset - at Wooyoung, but also at himself. Feeling quite overwhelmed at the sudden surge of emotions, he suddenly gets up from his seat, nearly falling backwards.

“I’m sorry,” Yeosang says curtly. “I need a moment away.” Without further explanation he’s already walking off, and to Wooyoung it looks a lot like he’s stomping away.

Wooyoung looks at Yeosang’s retreating back, frowning to himself. He wonders if the sight of his face alone was sufficient to trigger several nasty feelings in Yeosang, for whatever reason. Yet he also cannot help but feel a sting of bitterness in his chest. All this time, Yeosang hadn’t really brought up what was truly bothering him either.

Hongjoong, on the other hand, doesn’t hide his disappointment as he slowly sets down the stick of sage on the small table between them. “I suppose the morning’s session has come to a close. Thank you for this morning. I’ll go look for him - the time until lunch is yours. If anything has come up, I urge you to not keep it bottled up, but write it down.”

Wooyoung gives Hongjoong a slight nod, before he also gets up from his seat, making his way in the opposite direction back to his room.

 

 

In the quiet of his room, Wooyoung has draped himself over his bed, his beat up notebook opened to a fresh blank page, staring back at him. This notebook has seen a lot over the years - it contains lyrics, inspirations and some sketches as well.

Since he finds himself with extra deep pockets of time in this place, he may as well use it. He hasn’t sat down properly in a long time to think about potentially crafting something that may lead to some new lyrics.

He and Yeosang had a conversation some time back, in some nebulous time where they were capable of managing more than a few curt sentences. They’d talked about another full length album, after the EP they’d released years before. Yeosang had agreed enthusiastically to it, but not too long after, everything changed and they found themselves in this state of stasis they were in now.

Wooyoung presses his pen against the paper, the ink forming a slowly spreading dot on the top of the page. He finds himself thinking about what Hongjoong had said earlier - about the emotions and memories that were invoked during whatever he was doing while waving that herb stick around.

He begins to pen down the feelings he felt first - those were simple to think of. Frustration, anger, resentment. Rather strong adjectives, he thinks to himself. Then again, whenever it came to anything concerning Yeosang and the band, he always had strong emotions, never really feeling anything in moderation.

As he continues to write, he finds himself in a state of a string of consciousness, just writing everything he felt. Hongjoong had said he had to send those emotions somewhere after all. Wooyoung realizes he’s surprised himself when he fills up almost an entire page of his notebook. Maybe he was going somewhere with this, and it could turn into something.

He reads the words again. Okay, maybe two thirds of it were pure brain vomit and rather shitty writing. But, he supposes, he could refine it over time and it could become lyrics, eventually. The other thing that surprises him, though, is how much he realizes he’s repressed concerning Yeosang. He writes, no rants, about how Yeosang refuses to speak to him, how he doesn’t want to hang out like old times, rejecting his invitations. He writes about the so-called good old days, especially when they were in high school. If San were here, San may have said that he was too stuck in the past. But whatever, he had a right to feel how he feels.

Wooyoung continues to write until his wrist and fingers get sore and he’s too tired to continue. He sighs, slumping back down on the bed, the sudden movement making his pen fall to the ground.

They still had two more days to go, he realizes to his dread.

 

 

“Yeosang-ssi? Are you there?” Hongjoong walks along the path, occasionally stopping to go off track to check among the trees to see if Yeosang had gone there. Thankfully, Hongjoong doesn’t need to do much more searching, as he catches sight of Yeosang sitting alone on one of the benches that was a bit away from the main path.

“Are you feeling quite alright, Yeosang-ssi?” Hongjoong carefully takes a seat next to Yeosang on the bench, making sure to keep some distance so that Yeosang wouldn’t feel like his personal space was being too encroached on.

Yeosang shakes his head slowly, which is exactly what Hongjoong expects, considering his reaction during their cleansing session earlier. “You mind sharing a little about what’s on your mind?” Hongjoong says, jerking back a little when he sees Yeosang stare back at him with a cold expression. “That is, of course, if you’re comfortable with it.”

Yeosang firmly purses his lips, tightening the grip of his hands on his knees. He makes some indecipherable noise, then after some silence, he finally opens his mouth. “It’s a lot,” he says simply.

“What’s a lot, Yeosang-ssi? I’m here because I want to help you - both of you. Are your emotions a lot, is being here in the same space with Wooyoung-ssi a lot, or -” Hongjoong pauses, waiting for Yeosang to respond.

Yeosang nods yet again. “Both of those things,” he says, swinging his legs from the bench.

“That’s perfectly understandable,” Hongjoong nods in affirmation. “Since I can sense the both of you must have had tensions for a long time now, and you clearly are not on speaking terms either.”

“He doesn’t want to talk, that’s his problem,” Yeosang says curtly, gazing into the distance as Hongjoong listens. “With him, he’s always trying to dodge it with something. He always has to be doing something, or someone- “ here, Yeosang laughs hollowly.

“You ever tried being the one to start the conversation?” Hongjoong asks gently.

Yeosang simply shakes his head, closing his eyes. “He beats me to it most of the time. He’s got a lot of energy in him.”

“I see,” Hongjoong hums. “Well, for starters, I guess it would help if you penned down whatever came up this morning. Eventually, I guess down the line you could also start thinking about what you might want to say to him,” Hongjoong shrugs, before he gets up from the bench. “These are good things, Yeosang-ssi. I encourage you to not just shake these off and try to bury them. They’ve come up for a reason.”

As Hongjoong walks off, leaving Yeosang alone with his thoughts, Yeosang gazes into the distance, his subconscious forming a storm in his mind.

 

 

Lunchtime is quiet - but only because the tension in the air is palpable.

Yeosang is already seated on his own at a table by the windows, by the time Wooyoung shows up. Wooyoung goes to get his food, and he stands awkwardly in the middle of the dining hall, having half a mind to join Yeosang at his table. But he’s always had a pretty good knack also for somewhat being able to pinpoint Yeosang’s moods.

Despite what his instincts tell him to, however, he barges right into Yeosang’s space, setting his tray down stubbornly on the table. He makes sure that he’s heard when he sets down his cutlery, and when he tucks the metal straw into his drink cup. Yeosang continues to ignore him, as though perceiving him as a ghost and not acknowledging his existence.

Wooyoung starts to feel a boiling-like sensation in his chest. Still stubborn as ever, he thinks as he watches Yeosang eat without seemingly any other care in the world. For some reason, the more he observes Yeosang, the more agitated he feels. Does he just not care anymore? Can he not be bothered?

In the middle of the meal Wooyoung gets up from his seat, the legs of the chair screeching loudly against the ground as it shifts backwards from his sudden movement.

“Ya, you fucking bastard,” Wooyoung spits. When Yeosang doesn’t look up, Wooyoung clenches his fists. “Kang Yeosang. Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Yeosang sets down his cutlery slowly, before looking up at Wooyoung with as dead eyed of a stare as possible.

That is more than sufficient to set Wooyoung off, and soon, he’s grabbing Yeosang by the collar of his shirt, yelling at Yeosang to look at him, to stop being a fucking coward and to man up.

The other retreat center members in the dining hall start muttering in panic, not sure what to do as they’ve never really seen someone start a fight on the premises before. One of them runs out of the room, presumably to get Hongjoong.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung and Yeosang have begun a tussle of their own in the middle of the dining hall, as Yeosang dodges Wooyoung’s attempts at blows as he swings his fists in the direction of Yeosang’s face. Their voices get louder and louder as both of them trade what are really asinine, playground insults.

“Hey, hey!” Hongjoong yells, probably speaking at the loudest volume ever since he’s met the two of them. “Stop it! Hands off!” he orders them as he tries to get between them to break up the fight. In the midst of the fracas, Hongjoong somehow finds himself getting flung to one side and falling to the ground. There are several shocked gasps and shouts when they see Hongjoong getting rendered like a rag doll, shoved aside. Some rush to his side to make sure he’s not been hurt, while a couple of others - two taller young men in particular, try to get themselves between a still struggling Wooyoung and Yeosang. After a brief struggle, they manage to break them apart, one of them holding on to Wooyoung, the other with Yeosang in a firm hold, restraining their hands.

Hongjoong manages to pick himself up off the floor after a moment, dusting his hands onto his knees as he tries his best to collect himself and regain his footing from the shock. “Well, I never,” he spits. “In all my years of being caretaker of Serenity Hills I have never seen such hooligan-like behavior. Really, the both of you couldn’t just settle it through words? Two grown men acting like children on a schoolyard. There’s a reason why we’re called Serenity Hills, gentlemen. Now, after you help clear up the mess you’ve made in this sacred space of gathering and harmony, we’ll be starting our afternoon session earlier,” Hongjoong says with an agitated huff, gritting his teeth.

Wooyoung and Yeosang look at Hongjoong, having never seen him this worked up before. And as Wooyoung begins to calm down, looking around the room, it appears that neither have the retreat center members, who look at Hongjoong with abject shock. The two let Wooyoung and Yeosang go, leaving them to pick up the fallen chairs which they’d knocked down in their tussle.

It’s only slightly embarrassing as they attempt to clean up the dining hall with several pairs of curious eyes watching them. Once they’re done, they make themselves scarce, Wooyoung feeling his cheeks burn in mortification. Sure, he’s done many a stunt in the past which have landed him in some tabloids, but for some yet unknown reason, he isn’t sure why this feels worse than those times.

 

 

The afternoon session, which is expected to drag until the evening, consists of them sitting with the larger group as a whole. They’re seated in one of the rooms on chairs in a circle, and Wooyoung and Yeosang are directly opposite each other.

“It was - it was a lot, you know?” the retreat center member currently speaking says, wiping at the corners of his eyes. “I thought things were done for, wouldn’t work out.”

The rest of the group nods solemnly, making sounds of affirmation as they listen to him share. Apparently, this one’s name is Mingi, and he’s been sharing at length about his boyfriend, Yunho, who is also part of the retreat center team. They were the two who helped to break Wooyoung and Yeosang apart during their fight at the dining hall earlier.

Wooyoung listens, resting his chin on his hand, looking a little bored. It’s the kind of story that isn’t even remotely new to Wooyoung. He’s heard many variations of such a story over the years from acquaintances and friends. But there are parts of the story which are somehow a bit on the nose for him. He tries to ignore that gnawing feeling again - he’s probably going to have to put it down in his notebook again later.

Yeosang, meanwhile, is oddly reactive to the whole thing. Wooyoung isn’t sure if it’s the dust in this old room that again smells of some mysterious aromatherapy combination like most of the premises, but he thinks he sees Yeosang’s eyes going all misty.

 

 

 

take it to the reprise (some years before)

Wooyoung can distinctly recall the times where he’s seen Yeosang shed tears and properly cry. There were the times where they went to the theater to watch movies after school - Yeosang liked the Ghibli movies and would shed tears every time. Wooyoung always made sure he had a packet of tissues on hand, handing them to Yeosang when he could sense that the mood was getting heavier.

There was also that one time, after they had quite a major argument. It’s a memory that even till now, Wooyoung labors to not remember simply because of how heavy and unpleasant it still feels.

Though by now he can’t recall exactly what started that particular conflict, he does still remember the confrontation. They were at school that day, and it was an emotionally charged day where they’d been avoiding each other. Usually, if anything had happened between them, it would have been resolved in a matter of hours. This time, however, it had lasted days, and it had gotten to a point where the air around them felt so stifling even their other friends could feel it.

The confrontation happened at one of the corridors in school, it being empty because most of the other students had already gone home for the day. They were standing face to face with each other, Wooyoung leaning against the window, feeling the heat of the afternoon sun on the glass; while Yeosang had his back against the brick wall.

Wooyoung must have done such a good job at repressing the memory because the words sound like a blur, as though they were engulfed by a body of water. Somewhere along the way, Yeosang bursts into tears, wiping at his face. Wooyoung begins to deflate at the sight of Yeosang being this emotional, and one thing becomes certain for him - that Yeosang did care. That he valued whatever they had a lot.

Whatever had happened after that, it seemed like they ended up being able to work through things, and Wooyoung can still remember the feeling of crossing over the threshold to pull Yeosang into his arms.

 

 

 

day 1, present

So now Wooyoung has his head in a tizzy as to why it seems so hard for them to just work things through like they did before.

There’s one gapingly obvious reason, first of all. They were definitely no longer in high school, and as much as the problems then could be so emotionally charged, they didn’t have the same complexity or nuance as they did being the supposed adults they were now.

He looks across the circle at Yeosang, who once he can feel the burn of Wooyoung’s gaze on him, actually meets his eyes this time.

Yeosang raises a hand as though he’s about to brush his long fringe from his face - but he bends each of his fingers until it’s quite obvious what kind of gesture he’s trying to make.

What the fuck? Wooyoung thinks, his forehead tightening from sheer agitation. Yeosang ignores his souring expression, appearing as if he’s rubbing at his nose bridge.

Wooyoung shakes his head slowly, bending forward as he mouths a string of well-placed curses back at Yeosang, who remains unfazed.

The others are none the wiser as Wooyoung and Yeosang silently size each other up. A significant amount of time must have passed because one by one, the others in the circle start to get up and leave the room, until the only ones left behind are Wooyoung and Yeosang.

That is, until the one named Mingi taps Yeosang on the shoulder. “Hey, Yeosang-ssi - some of us are going to the lake to try to catch some fish. Wanna join in?” he says with a goofy smile.

Yeosang gives Wooyoung a glare before he gets up from his chair. “Sure,” he says through slightly gritted teeth, before he follows after Mingi, leaving Wooyoung alone in the room.

Wooyoung stares towards a corner of the room where there are some cushions strewn around some cloth mats. He sighs to himself, before he decides it’s long overdue for him to leave, opting to return to his room and the company of his notebook.

The first day concludes in an evening session where they’re all gathered around a bonfire set up in a forested area near the boundary of the compound.

Yunho has a guitar out as he strums along to some song which the others clearly know the lyrics to. Now this reignites that feeling in Wooyoung, as though he’s now seated in a scene from a Netflix documentary. He glances around the circle, seeing the happy expressions which were mildly unsettling to him. He actually wonders how it’s possible for people to look so happy.

Through inner peace, he can hear Hongjoong’s enthusiastic timbre in his mind. These people made it seem so much simpler than it was. And they’re probably plagiarizing Kung Fu Panda too, he thinks.

“Hey,” Hongjoong sidles up next to him, as though he’s got some kind of ability to read Wooyoung’s mind. Or, rather, Wooyoung was an open book. “You seem like you’ve got plenty on your mind.”

Wooyoung gnaws on his lips, rubbing the tips of his fingers together. He keeps quiet, staring at the fire.

“Have you given it proper thought?” Hongjoong asks, folding his hands together.

“What?” Wooyoung asks, still watching the flames.

“About talking to Yeosang-ssi. Properly,” Hongjoong adds, placing emphasis on the word properly.

Wooyoung only shrugs, pushing his knees to his chest.

“I think you should consider it seriously,” Hongjoong says. “You don’t have that much time left here, and you should take this opportunity and this space to do it.”

Wooyoung sighs, not looking at Hongjoong. Hongjoong pats him on the shoulder once more, repeating his suggestion, before he begins to lead the whole group in another singalong.

Wooyoung then looks at Yeosang’s direction, and Yeosang has spaced out while the others get lost in the song.

Where do I even begin with this? he thinks while picking at a loose thread on his jeans, and the question plagues him for the remainder of the night.

 

 

 

 

day 2

Despite the relative comfort of the room, Wooyoung finds that his sleep has been quite far from restful. He thinks that the fumes from the aromatherapy scents all over the place must have done something to his mind, because his nightmare was an eerily vivid and demoralizing one.

In the dream, he’s been transported back to their high school days. He sees himself and Yeosang standing in the middle of an empty classroom, but he can’t hear exactly what they’re arguing about.

The argument escalates, of course, and he can see the two of them gesticulating wildly at each other - both of them clearly failing to get their individual points across. Eventually, Yeosang tosses his arms in the air in surrender, storming out of the classroom. Wooyoung tries to pursue him, clearly not done with his argument just yet. But his chase proves fruitless, because no matter how far and how wide he looks, Yeosang is nowhere to be found in the building.

As though he’s completely vanished into thin air.

Wooyoung only remembers how horrible the feeling was, the dread that came with Yeosang’s supposed disappearance, though it was fictional.

When he wakes up that morning, he remembers a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, a noxious mix of emptiness and heaviness.

It’s then that he faces the difficult and ugly truth that he’s been avoiding for so long now: if he doesn’t do something, anything about their current circumstances, then he truly risks his nightmare becoming a reality and losing Yeosang forever.

He drags himself to the morning’s meditation session, as though he’s a sack of flour being tugged along the rocky ground. His lack of quality sleep must be obvious, because even Yeosang of all people is giving him one of those odd looks as Hongjoong brings them through some kind of tree formation or whatever it was called.

He counts down through every single part of the routine, until the point where everything is done so that he can get hold of a good strong cup of morning coffee. Forget one, make that several, he thinks as he tries to stretch his leg so his ankle touches his back.

At breakfast, Wooyoung plops himself down at one of the corner tables with the largest mug of coffee he can get, and a bowl of muesli with yogurt. Though at first he thought it looked gross, he finds to his surprise that he likes it. It does wonders for his digestion too, and he thinks once he’s back in Seoul, he should perhaps buy a few bags of the stuff.

“You look like you need a month’s worth of sleep,” the tall guy named Yunho seats himself down at the same table as Wooyoung. Wooyoung barely acknowledges him with a nod, waiting for the effects of the caffeine to kick in.

“Guh,” Wooyoung lifts the mug to his lips, looking at Yunho over the rim of the mug.

“Or in plain terms, you look like shit,” Yunho says with a chuckle, taking a bite of his marmalade toast.

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow at him. “And here I thought you were one of those groups that frowned upon swearing, or something.”

Yunho snorts. “We advocate for clean living, that doesn’t mean our speech has to be completely squeaky clean too,” he says with an amused smile.

“So, how’s your first day at Serenity Hills?” Yunho asks, clutching the handle of his mug of hot tea. He takes a cube of sugar, dropping it in and stirring it vigorously with a metal spoon.

Wooyoung shrugs, not saying a word.

“It’s a lot to take in, I’d expect,” Yunho nods. “But I’m sure you’re making the progress you need, or at least have started taking those steps in the right direction,” he adds encouragingly.

“I don’t know about that,” Wooyoung says dryly, taking another long gulp of his coffee. “Especially when the other person who’s the other part of the problem refuses to address it openly.”

Yunho tilts his head, a knowing glint in his eye. “And pray what have you done on your part, Wooyoung-ssi? Have you tried starting that conversation, or dropped hints that you want to get a headstart on said conversation?” He looks straight at Wooyoung, whose eyes look rather weighed down by something. Guilt, perhaps.

“So you haven’t. Well, never mind that. I think you’re also probably at the point of your retreat where Hongjoong-hyung’s going to make you guys sit down and try to break the silence,” Yunho adds.

That revelation makes Wooyoung’s blood turn cold.

“I think those few hours are going to be wasted, though,” Wooyoung says flatly. “Not sure what Hongjoong-ssi hopes to achieve in that time.”

“You know,” Yunho cuts in. “Once upon a time, I was kind of in the same spot with Mingi. I don’t know the exact specifics of the dynamic you have with Yeosang-ssi, but at least for Mingi and I, we were this close to ending things between us for good. And we’d been together for at least six years by then. Then, when we came here, we managed to work things out, and that’s what got to us to the point we’re at now - peaceful and with more love between us than before.”

Wooyoung gives him a particularly specific look, one which isn’t foreign to Yunho, and he smiles back at Wooyoung wryly. “You think we’re a bunch of phonies, don’t you, Wooyoung-ssi. I’ll give you that freedom to think of us as you please, but I should also add that besides the space and time that Serenity Hills gave us, both of us actually had to do the work too. If neither of us were willing to do that, I guess we’d be done for by now,” Yunho shrugs, taking another sip of his tea.

Wooyoung glances down at his coffee, and then looks straight up at Yunho. “Wow. You just might be the most sound of the lot among everyone else that I’ve seen here, Yunho-ssi.”

Yunho just chuckles. “It’s the same for all of us here, you know. I think you need to watch less Netflix, and actually get to know how people are like sometimes, rather than discounting them after forming that opinion.”

Wooyoung snorts. It’s been a very long time since anyone else besides Seonghwa had the nerve to call him out on his behavior. He simply nods back at Yunho, who gets up from his chair, expression brightening. Wooyoung watches as Yunho makes his way towards Mingi who’s refilling his mug, and Yunho slots an arm around Mingi’s waist, his expression one of pure bliss.

Wooyoung purses his lips, pondering. He wonders how it would look like, him and Yeosang actually putting in the work to sort out things between them.

Yunho is right, because by midday, Hongjoong has him and Yeosang back at the same gazebo, making them directly face each other again.

“Before I lead us through today’s exercise, we should begin with the first usual step, which is to ground our minds. Free your minds of any distraction, anything negative which could pose as an obstacle to your progress,” Hongjoong speaks slowly and softly, as he again waves the cleansing stick of sage around them, the smoke billowing into the clear air.

Wooyoung takes a while to find his focus, watching Yeosang shut his eyes and looking like the epitome of calm, before he too closes his eyes.

“After you have found that point where your mind is the most peaceful, you may open your eyes once you are ready,” Hongjoong says gently.

Both of them open their eyes after a matter of minutes, their eyes meeting once again. Wooyoung’s eyes search Yeosang’s, as though he’s wordlessly imploring with Yeosang somehow.

“Good,” Hongjoong nods encouragingly. “Now, it is the time for both of you to break your silence.” Hongjoong then does something which is rather unexpected, reaching to his side and producing what looks like a wooden board. It’s something vaguely familiar to Wooyoung, who remembers San’s anecdotes about his childhood days where he used to practice taekwondo.

“Please, stand up.” Hongjoong gestures with his hands, signaling to the two of them to get on their feet. Hongjoong then hands the board to Wooyoung for him to hold. “Yeosang-ssi will have the floor first, followed by Wooyoung-ssi. I strongly encourage this to be done in a civil manner,” Hongjoong says, his words laced with the faintest hint of warning.

Yeosang raises a fist, and just as he looks like he’s about to strike against the wooden board, his hand lands straight at Wooyoung’s cheek instead. “Ow, what the actual fuck, Yeosang-ah?!” Wooyoung groans, clearly in pain as he winces, retracting his body as he rubs at the sore spot on his face where Yeosang had just struck him.

Yeosang gets up, flapping his hand as though he’d also unwittingly hurt himself in the process. “That’s for high school, you jerk,” Yeosang says, panting.

“What the fuck?” Wooyoung gets up, eyes wide in his face. “You can’t be serious. You don’t mean the entirety of high school, do you?” he retorts accusingly.

Yeosang huffs, wiping his forehead with his hand. “A whole fucking two thirds, in fact. Or have you erased that memory already, as you’ve done with most things over the past fucking four years?”

Hongjoong meanwhile is muttering under his breath something like, at least they’re talking, at least they’re talking, repeating it to himself as if it’s some kind of mantra.

“What did I do?” Wooyoung says, tone going up an octave, hands tossed in the air. “Please enlighten me, Kang Yeosang,” he drawls.

“Where do I begin, hmm? From the times you ditched so many of our plans, even in school, without telling me?” Yeosang’s face is starting to redden as he recalls the perceived grievances he has against Wooyoung.

“And I explained every single time that happened to you,” Wooyoung deliberately slows his speech, hands stretched out as though he was trying to tame a tiger.

“A lame ass vague text sent one hour before our plans were supposed to happen is not at all a good clarification, Jung Wooyoung,” Yeosang stares daggers back at Wooyoung.

At that, even Hongjoong lets out a soft oof, ignoring the way Wooyoung was glaring at him too.

“Alright, fine. So maybe I’m not that great. But you’re not great at texting either,” Wooyoung shoots back, hands on his hips.

Yeosang laughs cynically at that. “See, you’re doing it. Again. So fucking expected of you,” he spins on his heel, throwing his hands in the air.

“What am I doing, if you could be so kind as to explain?” Wooyoung folds his arms.

“Each time you try to dodge everything I say. Then you throw it back at me as though I’m the one at fault. Seems like you never escaped your teenage phase, Jung Wooyoung,” Yeosang retorts bitingly.

Wooyoung presses his lips into a thin line. Hongjoong is now glancing rather uneasily between the two of them, unsure about the can of worms that he’s just opened. But he also does nothing to try to stop them, knowing that this was truly landmark progress for the two of them, seeing that they barely communicated for years.

“Okay, fine. So maybe there are times that I do that. What do you want me to do then, Yeosang?” Wooyoung asks, sounding quite exasperated.

“I don’t know, Wooyoung-ah, you could actually apologize properly, for starters? A sorry after all these years, for once?” Yeosang says, sighing loudly.

“Fine. I’m fucking sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Is that good enough for you?” Wooyoung says, hands placed by his sides.

“You don’t mean it. You’re just saying it for the sake of saying it,” Yeosang accuses him in return.

“What?!” Wooyoung grits his teeth. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Yeosang-ah. That’s what you asked for, wasn’t it?”

Yeosang keeps his arms folded, refusing to back down. “I want a proper apology from you, without any excuses.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, but that expression he makes only serves to set Yeosang off even more, as he picks up his crocheted sling bag. “Wow, really, wow,” he says slowly and incredulously. “I knew I shouldn’t have expected more from you. I’m sorry, Hongjoong-ssi, for wasting your time once again.” Without another sound, Yeosang leaves the gazebo, bag slung over his shoulder.

When his back is turned, what they don’t see is Yeosang shaking, his eyes red and tearing up as he disappears into the distance.

Once Yeosang is out of earshot, Wooyoung huffs, rubbing at the back of his head. Even he knows he’s really fucked up now.

“I suppose the soft approach has ceased to work,” Hongjoong remarks dryly, narrowing his eyes at Wooyoung. “First of all, I think you handled it like a total child, or worse,” Hongjoong says, and this is probably the coldest he’s ever spoken. “You knew exactly what pushed his buttons, and did it anyway. Now, if you want to salvage whatever splinters are left here, I strongly recommend that you handle this. Properly.”

Wooyoung looks back at Hongjoong, expression close to defeated. He feels like he’s been transported back to his school days, being told off by one of his teachers. Most of the time, Yeosang would have been the one waiting outside the offices for him.

“If you can’t say it in person, my suggestion is that you try a different approach,” Hongjoong sighs, folding his arms.

“Like how?” Wooyoung blurts.

“You’re a smart man, Wooyoung-ssi, you’ll figure out the answer for yourself,” Hongjoong says, hand coming to gently rest on Wooyoung’s shoulder, before he sends him off, the session clearly over for now.

Wooyoung decides to take a stroll around the compound in an attempt to clear his head. He had gone to get his notebook from his room, and he now finds himself wandering rather aimlessly around the place as he tries to collect himself.

Yeosang’s words had definitely stung him at a deep level. In hindsight, Wooyoung thinks he never realized how his actions even from way back then, in high school, no less, could have such a snowball effect on the both of them now. Perhaps he had become complacent, taking Yeosang’s seemingly stoic exterior at face value, always thinking that the other was doing okay without his prompting.

Then again, he never really asked either, he now realizes. Wooyoung’s frown deepens as he takes a seat on a bench facing the lake. Damn. Maybe he’d kind of been a shitty friend too.

“Can I join you?” a familiar voice cuts through Wooyoung’s thoughts. When Wooyoung looks up, he’s met with the sight of Mingi’s friendly smile. He nods slightly, and the other man takes a seat on the bench, leaving some space.

They stare at the lake in silence for a passing moment. “The weather’s great for meditating by the river,” Mingi remarks casually. Wooyoung doesn’t say a word, simply staring at the way the water rippled beneath the light.

“Mingi-ssi.”

“Yeah?”

“How does a person talk to another - when said person puts their foot in their mouth every time they try to talk?” Wooyoung asks, tone resigned as he looks out at the water.

Mingi makes a thoughtful noise, rubbing at his head. “I guess, well, one way you could go about it is to just write them a note. Or a letter,” he says simply.

“Write to them?” Wooyoung echoes.

“Yeah, write to them. But of course, be as truthful as you can. Don’t sugarcoat anything, or try to defend yourself especially if you know you’re the one who’s in the wrong.”

Wooyoung smiles knowingly. “You sound like you’re speaking from actual experience.”

Mingi nods slowly. “Yeah, perhaps I am. And I’m saying it because it worked. I kind of suck at piecing things together in person. I quite like writing my thoughts down,” he says as he fishes out his own notebook, flipping it open to show Wooyoung.

“So do I,” Wooyoung smiles lightly, lifting his closed notebook to show Mingi.

“Then I guess that method would work for you. You should do it soon, since you’ve got one day left or a little less,” Mingi says with a shrug.

“Thanks, Mingi-ssi,” Wooyoung says, expression solemn and genuine.

“Not at all,” Mingi grins. “Now, I think I should leave you be to write that very important letter of yours,” he says as he gets up from the bench, humming some unknown tune as he strolls away from the lake.

Wooyoung then flips to a blank page of his notebook, before carefully ripping out the paper. He smoothens out the crumpled edges, before he uncaps his pen, lightly pressing the nib to the page.

After taking in a deep breath to calm his nerves, he begins to write. Dear Yeosang…

He’s done after what seems like ages, and Wooyoung makes his way back to the block where the rooms are. He’s got a pretty good feeling on where Yeosang might be, especially because tonight there was going to be the big bonfire night with a barbecue dinner outdoors.

He walks to Yeosang’s room door, pausing in front of it. He holds up the folded paper in his hands, the ink only slightly seeping through the paper. Wooyoung closes his eyes, before he bends down slowly to slide the paper underneath the door, through the slight gap. He manages to push it all the way through, before he gets up. Sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants, he turns to walk the other way towards the direction of his own room, deciding to take a power nap before the long evening ahead.

 

 

The atmosphere of the bonfire night is quite pleasant, Wooyoung admits as he takes a good look around the setup. Fairy lights have been set up, and the place looks like something out of one of those hipster rustic Pinterest moodboards.

Dinner was pretty good, and Wooyoung is pleasantly surprised that even vegan barbecue could taste remotely good - though it could never beat real samgyeopsal, in his opinion. They’ve had a pretty good fill of food and kombucha, and all of them are now slowly taking their seats around the large fire. Yunho, of course, has his guitar out, and to Wooyoung’s surprise, Mingi next to him has a harmonica. They play some pleasant tunes as the fire goes, the last bits of light vanishing from the sky as it darkens to a deeper shade of blue.

Across from where Wooyoung is, Yeosang looks noticeably calmer from the last time they interacted earlier in the day. He’s got a cup of kombucha in hand as he chats with some of the others from the retreat center. Wooyoung thinks it’s nice that he’s getting along fine and adapting well, suddenly remembering the times where they went on school trips and roomed together. Yeosang usually had an adjustment period, and Wooyoung recalls where he would sneak some things into his bag, things which were familiar and made Yeosang more comfortable.

He has to admit that Yeosang, too, has come a long way - he wonders why it took him so long to notice, as it was with many things about Yeosang these days. Maybe he was willingly blinding himself to it, and maybe he’d even taken Yeosang for granted too.

Wooyoung lets his thoughts slow down as he enjoys the calm atmosphere of the bonfire. At least it seemed less likely that the night would end in another fist fight. He finds himself shuddering at the memory of how the both of them had caused some damages to Serenity Hills’ dining hall.

The next time he looks up again, he feels the soft burn of a gaze in his direction. Yeosang is looking at him, but for once, Wooyoung can’t seem to detect any hint of hostility in his eyes. Did he read the letter, Wooyoung wonders. Maybe he did, considering he looks far less angry than he did earlier in the day.

Yeosang then gets up from where he’s seated, not breaking eye contact from Wooyoung as he cocks his head slightly as though gesturing for Wooyoung to follow him. Wooyoung abandons his own unfinished cup of kombucha on the ground as he also rises from his seat, going in the direction of where Yeosang was headed.

It doesn’t take too long for him to eventually catch up with Yeosang, the both of them walking side by side in the dimly lit area. It doesn’t fully sink in for Wooyoung as to where they’re going, until he feels his feet touch the familiar hewn stone path which leads back to the rooms. Wooyoung continues to follow Yeosang until they’re in his room. Yeosang awkwardly gestures for Wooyoung to take a seat on the bed, and Yeosang follows shortly after, leaving a gap between the two of them.

For what seems like an awfully long time, the only sounds in the room are that from the diffuser and the air conditioning.

“So, um. What’s up?” Wooyoung blurts, sounding incredibly awkward, enough that internally, he really wants to slap himself.

Yeosang rubs at his knees, not looking at Wooyoung for now. “I uh, read it.”

Wooyoung looks at Yeosang, who’s still averting his gaze. “You read…?”

Yeosang coughs. “I meant that I read your letter.”

“Oh,” Wooyoung mutters. “Alright.” He really, really, has no clue as to what he ought to be saying, as odd as it sounded. Wooyoung’s always been the one who has the next word waiting, preparing for a clever retort. Yet for some reason unbeknownst to him, in this very moment as he sits next to Yeosang, it’s as though whatever defenses he has left have been knocked down.

“Did you…mean it?” Yeosang asks, air of caution unmissable in his words.

Wooyoung clears his throat, scratching his hair. “Yeah. I did. Every bit of it.”

Yeosang then fumbles in his pocket, brandishing a crumpled piece of paper, shoving it into Wooyoung’s hand. Wooyoung looks completely unsure what to do with it at first, but he eventually opens it slowly to look at it.

The first few lines are enough for him to let out a soft gasp.

It unlocks a memory that he thought he’d long laid to bury.

The thing is, all those years ago, it was on a particular Valentine’s Day. Even at that time, it was no secret as to how popular Wooyoung was at school. He’d received confessions from guys and girls alike, not that he minded. It felt quite nice.

But one of them was one that he least expected to receive. One year, the school had an anonymous Valentine message service, and of course, Wooyoung was the recipient of an almost numerous amount that year.

However, one of the messages he received, he’d paused for a long time, due to the sheer shock. The handwriting was one which he knew well. Too well, in fact. The script was one he knew almost as well as his own.

Of course, he responded the best way he could at the time - which was to leave the note abandoned at the corner of the classroom, refusing to acknowledge it. He buried it and the memory of it, all these years. And obviously, he thought that it could be easily forgotten.

Evidently not, present Wooyoung thinks now as he glances through the note.

It’s one of his worst fears, facing him once again. Perhaps it was even one he’d been doing his damndest to flee too. But now, at long last, it’d finally caught up to him.

Wooyoung has also dated many people over the years, that was no secret. Some were for longer durations than others, but that was considered normal for someone of his status.

Yeosang was never one of those people, however. The reason was as simple as day - Yeosang was his best friend. He couldn’t just allow himself to fall for his best friend, because that would only set up the risk for failure. Yeosang wasn’t someone he wanted to lose.

And now - and now, the question lingered in the air, as to what Wooyoung felt now.

“You kept this,” Wooyoung whispers.

Yeosang sniffs. “Yeah. I did. I thought I was being fucking brave when I did it, but I guess it was fucking stupid of me too,” he says hollowly.

He’s right, Wooyoung thinks. It was probably the bravest thing for him to have done, especially at that time.

“No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t stupid, I mean,” Wooyoung clarifies when he sees a flash of hurt cross Yeosang’s face. He clears his throat. “Does whatever you say here -” he points to Yeosang’s old note - “still hold true, even now?”

Yeosang looks right back at him, frown deepening. “What do you think, Wooyoung-ah?”

Wooyoung’s lips curl into a faint smile. “I kind of missed you calling me that.”

Yeosang narrows his eyes at him. “Stop avoiding my questions for once.”

“Alright, alright. I won’t blame you if you don’t feel the same, or hate me, in fact. I’ve been really awful to you.”

“And it took us being stuck at a vegan hippie commune for you to finally realize that?” Yeosang remarks dryly, but he’s no longer frowning.

Wooyoung chuckles. “Yeah, yeah I guess.” His tongue darts out to lick at his lower lip, and he feels his heart racing too. Wooyoung supposes that it’s time for him to give that answer that he’s owed Yeosang from all those years ago. In fact, as he thinks back over the mess that was his life, perhaps he was indeed trying to push it away. He recalls one of the entries he’d written in his notebook, about how he was avoiding his own truth by making many rash decisions, some costly ones at Yeosang’s expense too.

“I know this is probably really late in the game, Yeosang-ah, but I should tell you that - that I feel the same,” Wooyoung says, expression unmoving. He thinks he’s probably never appeared this serious in his entire life.

Yeosang actually appears stunned for a moment, but that soon fades into something between sadness and anger. He raises a hand, hitting it hard against Wooyoung’s chest. “You - absolute - jerk - Jung Wooyoung,” he grits his teeth, voice raised louder than what Wooyoung’s accustomed to hearing from him.

Wooyoung accepts the light blows for a while, until Yeosang does something even more unexpected. His fingers curl into the collar of Wooyoung’s shirt as he tugs Wooyoung close.

Wooyoung can taste kombucha and something else sweet, probably the lip balm that he knows Yeosang has always liked using. There’s more bite in the kiss, though, and Wooyoung can feel Yeosang’s teeth graze on the dry skin of his lips.

“Whuh-” Wooyoung blurts as Yeosang tugs away for a moment, breathing heavily. His cheeks are flushed, and his hair looks mussed up already.

“You - idiot -” Yeosang pulls Wooyoung in again, Wooyoung clamping his eyes shut tight as he feels Yeosang catch his lower lip with his teeth. Fuck, Wooyoung thinks, feeling his blood rush south. He didn’t expect Yeosang to, well, use this much force. Not that he dislikes it.

Yeosang is already one step ahead of him, hand tugging on the hem of Wooyoung’s shirt as he makes quick work of tugging it up over his head, discarding it into a curled up ball on the floor. Wooyoung also pulls Yeosang’s shirt off, and he curses audibly when he sees how actually toned Yeosang is.

“Fuck, Yeosang-ah. What’ve you been hiding, huh -” Wooyoung mutters breathily, a hand running along the outline of Yeosang’s abs, until Yeosang shoves his hand away roughly. .

“You never really cared to notice,” he snaps as he leans in again to kiss Wooyoung, like he wants to burn him each time their lips touch.

Wooyoung lets Yeosang push him down onto the bed, lets him run his hands all over. It’s hot, his touches searing. Yeosang leaves marks on Wooyoung’s skin, Wooyoung curling into the touch, letting out breathless sounds as he feels Yeosang’s teeth sink into his, leaving behind bruises.

Yeosang’s mouth and hands trail down Wooyoung’s body, Wooyoung tilting his head back in pleasure. Though many would be inclined to believe otherwise, it’d been a long time since he’s been with anyone - in fact, his most recent breakup with some DJ personality had been some time back already.

He can feel Yeosang tug the waistband of his sweatpants down, his underwear following after. Wooyoung grits his teeth when he feels a hand curl around his cock, hardening as Yeosang touches him. And from the way Yeosang was touching him, it was growing evident to Wooyoung that Yeosang clearly had some experience. Wooyoung can’t help the slight sting of jealousy as he wonders who Yeosang may have been before. He’s had his own inklings in the past, but then again, he also never really bothered to dig further because he wasn’t sure how forthcoming Yeosang was willing to be about such things.

Not that it matters now, anyway, considering Yeosang’s giving him a pretty damn good handjob.

“Fuck - Yeosang-ah -” Wooyoung grits his teeth as he feels Yeosang tug at his cock. He bites down on his lower lip when he feels Yeosang’s mouth wrap around the tip, licking a stripe around it, before his head sinks down.

Holy fucking shit, Wooyoung thinks as he watches Yeosang work his mouth with a vengeance. At one point, he even looks up at Wooyoung, eyes dark as though clouded with rage and something else.

Wooyoung cannot help but curl a hand into Yeosang’s hair, lightly pulling on it as Yeosang sucks him off. He thinks that after this, he’s probably going to delete all the stupid dating apps that he has on his phone, and go through his contacts to delete all the hookups too. He chides himself internally, that he’s missed out on so much.

Yeosang moans around his cock when he feels Wooyoung tighten the grip of his hand in his hair. Damn, Wooyoung thinks to himself, realizing that he’s learned something new about Yeosang that he probably likes. Wooyoung tests out different grips, until he finds one where he notices Yeosang wriggling in his touch. And he looks like he’s grinding down on the bed, too.

Before Wooyoung can enjoy what he’s seeing below him, Yeosang pulls off. “What the fuck,” Wooyoung mutters. And he was getting pretty close too.

Yeosang ignores him, climbing off the bed with the grace of a gymnast as he tugs off his pants, going to his bag to dig for something.

He actually came fucking prepared, Wooyoung’s eyes widen in realization.

Wooyoung winces when he feels something being thrown in his direction - something slightly sharp, and a heavier object.

“Get on with it,” Yeosang huffs as he sits on the bed, waiting.

Wooyoung smirks. “Alright,” he murmurs as he first slides on the condom, then tugging over Yeosang by the ankle in a swift motion, eliciting a surprised noise from him.

“Stay still, Yeosang-ah,” Wooyoung warns as he grips Yeosang’s calf. He’s coated his fingers with lube, and he reaches to curl a finger inside, testing the waters. Yeosang shuts his eyes, but he flinches when Wooyoung lightly taps his leg. “Nuh-uh. Keep those eyes open, baby, since you asked for this.”

Yeosang tries to keep his eyes open, biting down on his lower lip as he watches Wooyoung slide a finger inside him. He takes his time, finger curling in a come hither movement.

“More,” Yeosang exhales.

Wooyoung looks up at Yeosang, expression stiff. “You don’t get to order me around - not here, Yeosang-ah.”

Yeosang glares back at him, but he’s in no position to be able to do much. He rolls his eyes, lowering himself back down onto the bed, resting his weight on his forearms.

Wooyoung takes his time at a torturous pace, before he slides in another finger. His pace is still way too slow for Yeosang’s liking, and he starts to roll his hips, attempting to get Wooyoung to just move faster, or else he thinks he might explode.

“Someone’s impatient,” Wooyoung chuckles, voice low as he leaves a soft kiss to Yeosang’s inner thigh. “Don’t worry - I’ll make you feel really good soon.”

“You fucking better,” Yeosang snaps in return.

“That a challenge, baby?” Wooyoung tilts his head, eyes piercing.

Yeosang swallows at the endearment as he covers his face with his arm, feeling his face start to burn up. Wooyoung cackles, before finally picking up the pace as he fucks his fingers in and out of Yeosang’s hole, the sound wet and rather loud in the room.

Yeosang wants to sit up more, wants to fuck himself on Wooyoung’s fingers, but each time he tries, Wooyoung manages to push him back down, forcing him to stay down on the bed.

“A-ah, Wooyoung-ah,” Yeosang whines. “I’m - I’m prepped enough,” he looks at Wooyoung with half-lidded eyes, getting lost in the feeling of Wooyoung’s fingers curling inside him.

Wooyoung smirks as he slowly pulls his fingers out. He clambers over, looming over Yeosang as he gets ready to move, but he’s caught off guard when Yeosang pushes him down by the shoulders as he climbs onto his lap.

“You -” Wooyoung mutters as he watches Yeosang line himself up over Wooyoung’s cock, and Wooyoung curses when he sees Yeosang wrap his hand around his cock, sliding down to take it in.

Yeah, Wooyoung thinks maybe he should even throw his fucking phone away after this and just go off the grid - preferably with Yeosang.

Yeosang lets out a breathy exhale as he feels Wooyoung’s cock stretch him open. He presses his hands onto Wooyoung’s stomach, gripping tightly as he rolls his hips. Wooyoung watches, slowly placing his hands on the sides of Yeosang’s hips as Yeosang rides him. His pace doesn’t stay languid, though, as he moves faster, clenching down in a way that makes Wooyoung’s cock twitch at the feeling.

“Unfhh,” Yeosang moans, taking one of Wooyoung’s hands into his own. Wooyoung’s free hand wanders, fingers wrapping around a nipple, pinching it lightly. Yeosang lets out a soft gasp at the feeling, bending over slightly at the touch, his wavy hair falling over his face.

Wooyoung hisses when he feels Yeosang take some of his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them roughly, teeth grazing along the dampening skin. Wooyoung shoves his fingers deeper inside, as though fucking Yeosang’s mouth open.

“Guh,” Yeosang mumbles, lips swelling and wet, almost helpless as Wooyoung pushes his fingers in and out of his mouth. He continues to move his hips mercilessly, clenching down as hard as he can.

Wooyoung feels like his brain is dissolving as he watches Yeosang being taken apart like this above him. Yeosang then grabs his wrist, shoving Wooyoung’s hand out of his mouth as he leans further back, hips rocking up and down, his hard cock slapping against the bare skin of his stomach.

“Jung Wooyoung if you don’t fucking touch me I swear -” Yeosang grunts, hips still moving as Wooyoung sits up, pulling Yeosang in by the waist as he reaches a hand down between their bodies to stroke Yeosang off. He already feels so wet with precome, as though he’s leaking. And it’s all so hot and getting to be a lot for Wooyoung as his fingers curl around Yeosang’s cock, rubbing at the tip and then running his hand up and down the hard length.

“Wooyoung-ah, Wooyoung-ah, shit, fuck, please -” Yeosang bends his head over, teeth pressing into the skin of Wooyoung’s shoulder as he tries to match the movement of his hips to Wooyoung stroking him off.

“You like that, huh,” Wooyoung exhales. “So hungry for cock, you’re practically begging for it, baby, yeah, that’s right, just like that -” Wooyoung eggs Yeosang on as he curls his arms around Wooyoung, trying to keep his balance, feeling like his legs were going to turn to jelly.

“Wooyoung-ah,” Yeosang whimpers, the rage from before dissolving into something else entirely. “Oh - oh God, fuck, that feels so good, unf -” Yeosang bites down hard onto Wooyoung’s shoulder as his body shudders, and Wooyoung can feel his cock twitching between them. When Wooyoung looks down, his mouth falls slightly open when he sees Yeosang’s come on both of them.

After a moment of collecting himself, Yeosang starts again, rolling his hips and clenching as best as he can though he’s on the verge of overstimulation.

“Your turn,” he singsongs, as though taunting Wooyoung as he fucks himself up and down Wooyoung’s cock. Wooyoung isn’t going to last too long, he fears, and sure enough, he comes with a loud moan. He can’t be bothered to think whether anyone else on their floor can hear them, as he feels Yeosang clench hard around him one more time, as he fills the condom.

Wooyoung collapses on the bed, Yeosang landing on his back. Yeosang can feel his rapid heartbeat, as he reaches up to place a hand tentatively on Wooyoung’s back. They lie like that for a while until Wooyoung slowly pulls out of Yeosang to go and discard the condom in the provided waste bin in the corner of the room. He rejoins Yeosang on the bed, pulling him close. Yeosang seems content to curl his fingers into Wooyoung’s hair, gently stroking the strands.

It’s a rather companionable quiet, until Yeosang clears his throat.

“You know - this isn’t going to fix things overnight,” he says, looking up and down their bare bodies, his tone serious once more.

Wooyoung snorts. “As much as I really want to say it might - I also think you might be onto something,” he turns sideways to look Yeosang in the eyes. And this time, there’s not an inch of pretense in his gaze.

“It’s not too horrible of a start, though,” Yeosang murmurs as he leans in to kiss Wooyoung lightly on the temple, until Wooyoung pulls him in for more kisses until the both of them get too tired, and Yeosang grumbles about needing to clean up, and how they’ve also ruined Serenity Hills’ sheets as well.

 

 

 

 

day 3

It goes without saying that Wooyoung and Yeosang end up missing the next morning’s meditation session in the field. And even though Mingi tries to be helpful, telling Hongjoong that he’s willing to volunteer to go wake them up at their rooms, Yunho is the one to help stop him, smiling knowingly.

Hongjoong, meanwhile, pretends not to think too much about what the two of them just might be possibly up to. When they show up at breakfast, however, shoulders bumping against each other, he decides to look the other way. When he also sees Wooyoung’s hand come to rest on Yeosang’s waist, he also decides to make himself scarce from the dining room.

Hongjoong also ends up scrapping most of the third day’s plans in the morning and early afternoon, because the two of them aren't exactly even trying to be covert as they stroll around the premises, whispering to each other, hands resting in the other’s.

At least they somehow managed to work things out, he thinks to himself, shaking his head, though he’s smiling. Though it’s also usual practice for him to have a drawn out conversation with the participants as a kind of final debrief, he thinks that 1) there are details that he probably doesn’t want to know and isn’t interested in, and 2) they probably need the time they can get to make up for all that lost time, anyway. Some time after lunch, he spots the both of them huddled together on the field, and from the looks of it, they're working on something together, scribbling on some paper as they exchange hushed words.

What Hongjoong thinks would be best for them is to give them a good send off, to nicely wrap up their time at Serenity Hills. So he does the usual ritual, which is to gather everyone by the giant boulder which has probably been at the compound much longer than he has. They present Wooyoung and Yeosang with flowers, before declaring affirmations over them. The two of them have wide smiles, and it’s definitely a far cry to how they were when they first stepped into the premises.

The manager, needless to say, is also extremely surprised when he sees not only the two of them smiling, but also that they are also capable of actually being civil with each other. He would have to report to Seonghwa about the frankly astounding success of the retreat.

However, when he sees Yeosang’s hand brushing against Wooyoung’s, he feels his eye twitch. Maybe there were some details he might think of omitting from the report too.

As they drive away from Serenity Hills, Wooyoung lets his eyes linger on the signboard, before he looks at Yeosang with a hopeful smile on his face. He’s relieved when Yeosang’s expression mirrors his, the grip of his hand tightening in his own.

He also thinks maybe someday he should send a generous vegan gift basket. With one extra large one for Hongjoong in particular.

 

 

 

 

coda

“You ready for this, San-ah?” Wooyoung leans forward in his chair, the wheels of the swivel chair squeaking a little. The three of them are huddled in the recording room, starting to work on what would most likely become the band’s next studio album.

Wooyoung has just handed over the lyrics and demo of what he hopes would be released as a single, though he still isn’t sure whether it should be a title track just yet.

San clicks on the file named IT’s You.mp3, and already the moment the track begins to play, he’s got an eyebrow raised. The backing track is a lot slinkier than what Neon Foxes has ever released in the past, and the moment he hears the first line watch the way I ride, he feels his face start to turn a similar shade to a tomato.

Once the song is done, San grabs his bottle of water, taking a long drink of it. He clears his throat loudly a few times, before he gives his opinion.

“Well, uh, it’s… different. Very different, actually, from what you’ve done before. It kind of reminds me a little of Arctic Monkeys, but also in a way kind of unique to Neon Foxes.”

“Is that a good thing?” Yeosang pipes up. He’s also contributed to the lyrics this time - Wooyoung having learned that one of the few gripes Yeosang has had was that he didn’t feel like he got to contribute enough to the band’s music, so this time, he’s come on board as another co-writer. It's another development which Wooyoung realizes also on hindsight, is way too long overdue. He does make sure to let Yeosang know how sorry he is when he can, though he can tell that Yeosang has started to think of some of the things that had happened, as water under the bridge.

San coughs. “Yeah, uh, I guess it’s safe to say it. I think the fans would like it a bunch, actually.”

Wooyoung claps his hands in a manner resembling a delighted seal. “That’s great. We should start the recording, then.”

“Before that,” San narrows his eyes to look at Wooyoung, then at Yeosang. “I’m actually quite curious as to how this song specifically came about. Did you work on it during your time at the retreat?”

Wooyoung looks at Yeosang, both of them eventually cracking up, Wooyoung resting a hand on Yeosang’s forearm. “Yeah,” Wooyoung manages between his hyena-like hysterical laughter. “You could say that.”

San shudders, taking another sip from his bottle. “You know what, guys - I think I don’t want to know, now that I think about it.”

“You sure, San-ah?” Wooyoung says, shifting closer to San, wiggling his eyebrows. “It’s really quite the story.”

San groans, rubbing at his face, before he shoots Wooyoung an expression that spelled out that it was time for them to actually get down to business.

“Get in the fucking booth now, Wooyoung-ah,” San drawls tiredly.

Wooyoung giggles, leaning over to a smiling Yeosang to leave a tender peck on his cheek before he gets up from his chair. “Right back at ya, San-ah,” he singsongs, skipping over to step into the recording booth.

Notes:

yes, i borrowed a muse song title for neon foxes' discography lol. title from the strokes whose music i looped plenty on top of the black keys, while writing this.

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