Chapter Text
“Hyung, you’ve been spacing out all morning.”
Jeonghan lifts his head. Seungkwan joins him on the leather bench, bleary-eyed and soft in an oversized sweater. They’re at the salon bright and early 6 a.m. for a long day of filming ahead, and Jeonghan realizes he had been staring at a bottle of bleach for a while now.
“Hah,” Jeonghan says, absently rubbing the scar on his elbow, “I was thinking about what I should do on my next day off.”
Seungkwan sips his iced drink. “Have you considered a nap?”
“I’d rather try something new. Like skydiving.” Jeonghan nudges him playfully. “Wanna come?”
Seungkwan must be truly tired because he just solemnly shakes his head. “No thanks. You can find someone else to torture.”
At the perfect timing, the front door chimes. A gust of cold wind enters the shop, followed by Seokmin, Chan, and Joshua.
Jeonghan can always sense when Joshua walks into a room — a side effect, maybe, of being so secretive about everything. Sometimes it feels like he’s been stumbling through the woods, the needle of his compass spinning in endless circles until it suddenly stops, locking on to true north. It keeps Jeonghan grounded during long days at work when the cameras are on and people are watching and five centimeters is an insurmountable distance. Instead of a look or a word or a touch, it’s every atom in his body vibrating with anticipation.
Jeonghan looks up just as Joshua pulls off his beanie.
“Oh,” a passing stylist says, “Jiwoo did a good job. The tone really suits you.”
“Really?” Joshua examines himself in the huge mirrors, running a hand through his hair while Jeonghan stares. “I thought I’d give it a try. It’s been a while since I had this color.”
The last time they saw each other — yesterday morning that is — Joshua’s hair had been dark brown. Now it’s ash gray, like Jeonghan’s.
They match.
That thing nestled deep inside Jeonghan unfurls, proud and possessive and pleased, just as vibrant as the very first time someone mixed up their names and Joshua had laughed and gone along with it.
“Did he lose a bet?” Chan asks, startling Jeonghan.
“What?”
Chan claims an open spot on the bench and gestures between the two of them. “The hair.”
“Did someone bet on his hair?”
Chan frowns. “I don’t know, did you, hyung?”
“No. Was it you, Seungkwan?”
“What?” Seungkwan squawks indignantly around his straw.
While Chan’s distracted, Jeonghan slips away to the refreshment corner, absently snagging a packet of ginseng extract. He looks around for a trash can while really sneaking glances at Joshua, whose silvery head is being examined by two stylists. Their eyes meet in the mirror, so quick it could be an accident, if Jeonghan didn’t know any better.
Casually, he circles closer. “Hey, aren’t our hair colors too similar?”
Dojin, the co-owner of the salon, shoots him a smile as he rearranges Joshua’s bangs. “It’ll work out. We were planning on adding some color to yours anyway.”
“Or maybe we should see who pulls it off better.”
At that, Joshua smiles. “Are you looking for a fight?”
Only because you’re up to something. “Why not? It would be fun.”
A manager hyung, who had been standing sedentary against a wall the whole time, interrupts. “If you don’t hate the idea of adding some color, how about we go with it? The PDs would probably appreciate some variety.”
Jeonghan could refuse. But it wouldn’t feel good, forcing it. Good is Joshua giving Jeonghan duplicates of things he likes without Jeonghan ever having to ask.
So Jeonghan says, “Of course. Color is fine by me.”
Dojin claps, eager to clear the air. “Great. How about you sit down here? We’ll work on you together.”
Jeonghan settles into the chair and twists the unopened ginseng packet between his fingers. He can see Joshua in the mirror, adjusting the way his sweater sits on his shoulders — too casual to be natural.
“Are you bored?” Joshua asks.
“No,” Jeonghan says just to be contrary.
“Okay.”
Jeonghan peeks at him sideways. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“I was going to ask you something, but never mind.”
“Ask me.”
“I said never mind.”
“Why are you being so mysterious? Just ask me.”
Joshua’s lips twitch. Then his eyes catch on something over Jeonghan’s shoulder and the humor vanishes. “Later,” he murmurs, right as the stylists return, towing a clattering trolley of supplies.
“Okay,” Jeonghan says. It’s a promise. He tosses the unopened ginseng packet on the vanity and sits back.
They don’t get to talk until the next day.
Jeonghan has a few hours free in the morning before an afternoon ad shoot, just enough time to fit in a Japanese lesson and meet up with his manager. He wishes he could sleep in like Jihoon can, but the older he’s gotten, the more his body refuses to do what he wants. Never tired enough to sleep deeply, never awake enough to feel energized. Restless. Lethargic. His doctor had suggested acupuncture. Jeonghan suspects the issue runs deeper than a few needles.
Seungkwan had left for work around dawn and the apartment is too silent. Jeonghan heads out earlier than he’d intended, taking the elevator down to the parking garage.
Their condo is nice and the cars are even nicer, running the gamut from sleek sedans to flashy convertibles. His own silver Lexus is parked by the far wall. Seungcheol was in his ear the entire shopping process; he loves counseling Jeonghan on how his money should be spent because Jeonghan is apparently one of the few people who lets him, but after absorbing the advice of several car-owning acquaintances, Jeonghan had gone with something reliable, lowkey, and simple to maintain.
Nothing like the loud red Ferrari with the pitch black windows parked in the opposite row. He gives it a cursory glance — sixth sense prickling — and unlocks his own car, settling in the drivers seat.
He doesn’t have to wait long before his phone buzzes.
do you have a minute?
Jeonghan eyes the Ferrari. He could walk over, but he decides not to.
ten, he replies, sitting back.
Seconds tick by.
At last, the Ferrari pops open. Joshua emerges in a bomber jacket and sweats, baseball cap pulled low. He walks up to Jeonghan’s passenger side door and tries to open it. When it doesn’t budge, he raps his knuckles on the window.
Smothering a smile, Jeonghan unlocks it.
“Morning,” he says in English, as Joshua ducks inside.
“Morning. You’re being annoying so early today.”
“You like it when I annoy you.” Jeonghan takes a closer look at him. “Did something happen? Why were you in your car?”
Joshua shakes his head. “I have an appointment, that’s all.”
Jeonghan relaxes, glad that he hadn’t teased him at a bad time. Joshua wouldn’t hold it against him, but it still feels wrong to laugh when Joshua isn’t laughing. “I see. I also have an appointment.”
“Japanese lesson?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“I think Seungkwan-ie mentioned it the other day,” Joshua says, which sounds close enough to the truth. He lifts his hat and runs a hand through his hair. The gray does suit him. It’s a few tones warmer than Jeonghan’s had been. A world of difference according to the stylists. Inconsequential to Jeonghan. “Are you busy this Friday?”
Jeonghan drags his gaze down in the nick of time. “I haven’t made any plans yet. I might go skydiving.”
“Seriously?”
“Well… I’ll do it one of these days.”
Joshua nods, unfazed. “I’ve thought about it too. Just a thought though.”
“Hm,” Jeonghan says, quietly happy. Their interests and hobbies rarely align. “It might be too cold to do it now.”
“Want to go snowboarding instead?”
Jeonghan raises his eyebrows. “Depends. With who?”
“With me.”
It almost sounds like a question. Cute, Jeonghan thinks. “Where?”
“A ski resort. One we haven’t been to.”
“Who’s paying?”
“Not you.”
“Sure, sounds fun. I’ll come.”
“And it’s overnight,” Joshua adds casually. “Is that okay?”
He’s tapping on his phone, like he’s writing Jeonghan into his calendar and definitely hadn’t planned whatever he has planned.
“I’ll check my schedule,” Jeonghan says in the same casual tone.
“You can’t check it now?”
“I have to go—” Jeonghan glances at his phone and picks a number. “—in five minutes.”
“Fine.” Joshua reaches for the door handle. “Let me know.”
Jeonghan’s hand moves entirely on its own and jabs the power lock, trapping Joshua inside.
Joshua’s jaw drops. Then he sees whatever face Jeonghan’s making and starts laughing.
“…I said I have five minutes,” Jeonghan says, trying to recover his dignity.
“Right.” Joshua’s still smiling. “So what do you want to do for five minutes?”
The beep beep of someone else’s car unlocking makes them both stiffen.
The parking garage is quiet at 8 a.m., well-guarded by security. Still, the chance that someone might be watching is never zero. In a flash, the playfulness on Joshua’s face disappears behind a neutral mask and he turns away, staring blankly out the windshield.
On the other end of the garage, a car starts, gravel crackling under the tires as it drives off.
“Let’s do it,” Jeonghan says.
Joshua turns back to him. “Do what?”
“Whatever you want. Snowboarding. Staying overnight.” Jeonghan pauses. “Anything except going to the gym.”
Joshua scoffs. The mask melts away a bit. “I’ll send you the details then.”
“Sounds good.”
“How many minutes are left?”
“Mm…” Jeonghan pretends to check his phone again. “Seven?”
“Seven,” Joshua echoes. He laughs again.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. It just reminded me of something.” Joshua looks at him.
“What is it?” Jeonghan asks again. This better not be another American reference going over his head.
Instead of explaining, Joshua braces a hand on the center console. “Hold still for a second,” he says. He leans closer, eyes zeroed in on a spot on Jeonghan’s nose or chin or mouth.
Jeonghan tries to say something, but Joshua smells like his bed and yesterday’s cologne and the warm leather interior of his fancy car and it goes right to his head, crossing the wires.
Nothing can happen here in public. Nothing will happen. Knowing doesn’t stop the shiver down Jeonghan’s spine.
“What are you—”
Joshua reaches past him and hits the power lock.
And then he’s out of the car, pulling his hat on. “Drive safe,” he says, leaving Jeonghan more awake than he’s felt for weeks.
After a rough run-through of the concert setlist, Hyelim-ssaem calls for a ten-minute break. Everyone scatters. Jeonghan claims a spot on the practice room floor and nurses a bottle of water. He’s in the middle of massaging his legs when Seokmin approaches Joshua, close enough to eavesdrop.
“Hyung, do you have plans on Friday? I snagged this restaurant reservation but Mingyu bailed on me.”
Joshua sounds appropriately apologetic. “Ah, I have plans. Sorry.”
Inevitably, Seokmin makes his way over to Jeonghan’s corner. “How about you? Are you up for dinner on Friday?”
Jeonghan cranes his neck to look up at him, squinting against the bright ceiling lights. “I also have plans.”
“Are they plan-plans though? Like are you sure you can’t reschedule?”
In the wall-length mirror, Jeonghan notices a certain someone glancing their way.
Jeonghan leans back on his hands and crosses his ankles. “You’ll have to ask him,” he says, tipping his chin at Joshua.
“Shua? Why—”
“Any luck?” Mingyu interrupts, tossing an arm over Seokmin’s shoulders.
“Ugh, go away. You should help me find a replacement, you traitor.”
Mingyu turns to Joshua. “Are you free this Friday?”
“I already asked him!”
“Oh.”
Joshua chuckles. “Sorry.”
“Alright.” Mingyu turns to Jeonghan. “How about you?”
“Dude,” Seokmin protests.
“Sorry!” Mingyu yelps, shrinking away when Seokmin jabs him in the side. “Did you already ask him? Hyung, can’t you reschedule?”
Jeonghan isn’t sure if he’s offended or amused. “Hey, what kind of person do you guys think I am?”
Before Seokmin can fumble his way through an explanation, Joshua speaks up. “He can’t reschedule.”
They all turn to look at him. He’s drifted subtly closer throughout the course of the conversation, and now takes those last three steps, joining their little circle.
Mingyu looks between him and Jeonghan and catches on quickly. “Ah. You two have something planned, don’t you.”
Jeonghan shrugs.
Joshua adjusts his beanie. “Just snowboarding. I haven’t been in a while.”
“Oh, sounds fun. I’ve always wanted to try it again.”
“Let’s go together next time.”
Jeonghan peers around Mingyu and Seokmin’s legs. “That was easy. Am I the only one who has to reserve a spot on your calendar?”
Joshua finally meets Jeonghan’s eye. His face is slightly flushed from dancing, but Jeonghan likes to think it’s something else too. Wonders if he looked like this, running away from Jeonghan’s car.
“That’s because you’re always asking me last minute,” Joshua says.
Jeonghan wants to push him further. “Since when do you plan things in advance?”
But Mingyu has already steered Seokmin away to greener pastures, and without an audience, Joshua drops all pretense. He shoots Jeonghan a look.
Jeonghan grins.
A few of the members are starting to congregate, which means break time is almost up. Joshua comes over and helps Jeonghan off the floor. Their hands touch briefly, polite and practical.
Seungcheol is one of the few people they’ve told. He once asked Jeonghan whether it was exhausting to hide all the time, and Jeonghan couldn’t really explain it. He can’t say it’s never tiring or hard, but it’s no bigger burden than dating anyone else. In some ways, it’s easier. He’s always himself with Joshua, no matter who’s around to see it. It’s hard to imagine being more honest than that.
Since it’s so conveniently within reach, Jeonghan lifts up the edge of Joshua’s beanie. “How’s it holding up?”
“How’s what holding up?”
Jeonghan wiggles a finger inside. The rim is damp with sweat, which should be gross, but it isn’t. He feels the same way about it as he does his own sweat — like if he tastes it, it’ll taste just like it had come from his own body.
Joshua’s eyebrows are raised like he can sense the direction of Jeonghan’s thoughts. He gently dislodges Jeonghan’s finger. “My hair?”
“Or whatever’s up there.”
Joshua laughs. “Or whatever’s up there.”
Just one more day. Jeonghan drapes an arm around Joshua’s shoulders. His fingers find the creases in Joshua’s T-shirt, smoothing them out and then letting them spring back. “Are there other things to do besides snowboarding?”
Joshua glances at him neutrally. “You’ve been to ski resorts before. They have everything you’d expect.”
“But you picked this one. It must be special.”
“Well,” Joshua says, not disagreeing, “I think you’ll like it.”
Jeonghan tilts his head. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
A phone alarm rings, signaling the end of break. “Because I know what you like?”
“What do I like? Even I don’t know what I like.” It’s true in some ways. Disliking has always been easy for Jeonghan. Liking is complicated.
He can hear Seongcheol’s voice asking, Are you five? but Joshua isn’t even phased. You’ve broken him, the Seongcheol-in-his-head accuses.
Joshua just says, “You’ll like it.”
Jeonghan leans into him. “As your majesty commands,” he murmurs. Joshua scoffs, bumping him sideways, and Jeonghan stumbles dramatically all the way to his designated spot, ducking his head to hide his smile.