Chapter Text
The next day when Wooyoung practically skipped into the hair salon despite the early hour, he was met with looks of concern by the staff. And okay, maybe he wasn’t always the most awake, but it wasn’t that out of character!
When his self-proclaimed soulmate slash hairstylist slash best friend’s boyfriend slash sweet giant manchild slash partner in crime (also known as San) did a double take at Wooyoung’s chirpy greeting, the idol had to acknowledge he was maybe a little happier today.
But only slightly! It wasn’t a big deal.
“San-ah, I brought you coffee!” Wooyoung beamed, plopping down in the chair and displaying the aforementioned beverage with pride.
San was another blessing brought into Wooyoung’s life by Yeosang when they had met on an assignment during their respective trade schools. It took only those few hours for them to become thick as thieves, enough for Yeosang to convince San that there were opportunities galore in the big city of Seoul. When they first met, San had been a shy boy from the countryside with a dimpled smile that could melt the coldest hearts. Over the years, he had gained significant muscle mass and confidence to match, but maintained an admirable curiosity, desire to learn, and humility.
While he dedicated priority to Wooyoung’s schedules, comebacks, and tours, San rented out a station in a salon for the lulls in the schedule. Being paid enough to stop working for months without concern, he cited the desire to keep his skills up with different cuts, colors, and textures of hair instead of being boxed into one area of the industry as his reason.
Besides serving as Wooyoung’s primary hair magician, San was also Yeosang’s boyfriend of several years. They were disgustingly cute and Wooyoung wasn’t jealous at all.
Maybe a little.
“What has you in such a good mood today? You’re usually a zombie by this point of a comeback.” San pulled the beanie off Wooyoung’s head and combed his hands through the flattened hair underneath.
“Guess!”
“Seonghwa-hyung let you have your favorite ramen.”
“You know I can’t have that during comeback season. I’d be all puffy.” Wooyoung pouted.
“Hongjoong-hyung agreed to let you wear a crop top.”
“No, but that’s a fantastic idea, San-ah, thank you for that.”
“Yunnie complimented your dancing and didn’t give you any notes to improve for the next stage.”
“Ha, yeah, that won’t ever happen. There’s always work to be done.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes.
“Mingi secured Park Jimin as a featuring artist on your next title track.” San giggled as he watched Wooyoung get irritable with each increasingly ridiculous guess.
Wooyoung stared at him bug-eyed. “If you really thought I would come in calmly with that news or have the slightest shred of patience to not scream it at you immediately, then you don’t know me at all.”
“You’re right, that’s giving you way too much credit for rationality.”
“Rationality has no place when it comes to Park Jimin-sunbaenim.” Wooyoung said solemnly.
San laughed, more than familiar with Wooyoung’s puppy love and professional admiration for the other singer. “Sangie let you kiss his cheek?”
“No.” Wooyoung pouted. “He won’t let me love him. Only you get a free pass.”
San smiled, motioning Wooyoung to move to the shampoo station. “Boyfriend perks.”
“Right.” And as much as Wooyoung was happy for his friends, being a celebrity in the public eye under intense scrutiny was enough to discourage most partners from being interested in more than a quick hook up. “Guess better! It doesn’t involve friends.”
“Your family came for a surprise visit?”
“No, but that does remind me I need to call my mom.” Wooyoung said thoughtfully.
San turned on the water, waiting for it to warm before rinsing through Wooyoung’s hair. He leaned down to grab the shampoo bottle, and when he was certain his lips couldn’t be seen in the extremely unlikely (but always possible) event that a sasaeng had found their way into the salon, he muttered, “Did you get f*cked good?”
Wooyoung laughed at that. “No, San-ah. You know I wouldn’t, not during a comeback. I have to be able to dance.”
“You’re right, your eyes aren’t red enough from crying and you weren’t limping nearly enough for that to be the case.” San remarked. He finished washing Wooyoung’s hair and guided him back to the chair to blow dry the wet locks and finish the sleek styling for the day. “Okay, fine I give up! Tell me!”
Once the blow dryer was on and would block any curious ears from overhearing their conversation, Wooyoung grinned. “Hyung found me another massage therapist!”
“Wow, they must be something! I haven’t seen you this excited about a massage in ages.”
“It was heaven.” Wooyoung waited until San turned away from his hair to flop backwards against the chair dramatically. “Magic hands, I swear.”
“High praise.” San snickered. “I haven’t seen anyone terrorize masseuses quite like you. So how did Seonghwa-hyung find this remarkably talented person?”
“Yeosangie recommended him, his name is Choi Jongho! And, get this, they used to be a thing in school! He said he was good with his hands.” Wooyoung scrunched his nose.
“Oh, yes. Sangie may have mentioned him.” San’s face was inscrutable, but his tone was off as he reached for his flat iron.
Wooyoung doubled back with the weird response. “Wait, forget everything I said. That was totally insensitive of me. You know Sangie loves you and this was before he knew you!”
“Calm down, boo. I’m not the type to get weird about things that happened before we were together. I just.” San laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “He is good with his hands.”
“What the f*ck, why do you know that?” Conflicting emotions rushed through Wooyoung as he whirled to smack the hairstylist on the shoulder. “Choi San, did you cheat on my best friend?”
“f*ck no, you know I would never, he’s the love of my life!” San rushed to assure him.
Wooyoung held a hand over his heart. “Don’t scare me like that! I thought I was going to have to give you a beat down! sh*t, why do you have to be all cryptic?”
“You couldn’t beat me up if you tried, Young-ah. You’re like a chihuahua, small and yappy.” San patted down a few strands of hair escaping the neat arrangement of the rest.
Wooyoung snapped his teeth menacingly at San’s fingers. “Don’t test me, San-ah. I will bite you if you don’t explain yourself.”
San jerked his hands away from the threat of Wooyoung gnawing on him. “Down, boy. Behave. I just meant when Yeosangie reached out and learned he was in Seoul, well, they reconnected. Carnally. I was involved. Thus, can confirm, he is excellent with his hands.”
“You had a threesome and didn’t tell me?!” Wooyoung hissed, wildly offended.
“I do my best to avoid sharing details about my sex life with friends.” San answered mildly.
“That’s a f*cking lie. I listen to you whine about how hot Sangie is and how much you need to be dicked down regularly. You text me about how horny you are. You’ve literally cried to me about how well you got f*cked.” Wooyoung scoffed.
“I’ve learned from the error of my ways?” San offered tentatively, sheepish smile promising he had done no such thing.
“Will this reconnecting happen again?” Wooyoung scrutinized his friend in the mirror.
San shook his head. “I doubt it. He said he doesn’t mix business and pleasure.”
“Oh, good. I was worried it was going to be awkward.” Wooyoung chuckled. “I’m tired of having to break in new therapists.”
“You’ve only seen him once and you’re already committed?”
“Hmm, you have a point. I can’t be tied down to one man so easily. Maybe it was an exhausted fever dream and he wasn’t really as good as memory tells me.” Wooyoung pouted. “He did just graduate.”
San spritzed his hair with an ungodly amount of hairspray, then patted his shoulder. “Either way, at least your massage drought is at an end!”
---------------
True to his word and keeping San’s advice in mind, Wooyoung remained on guard during the next massage. Seonghwa had made the arrangements, again utilizing a studio in the company for a neutral location. This time he started the massage face down, interested to see if any of Jongho’s polite veneer would start to lose its shine the second visit.
But, like the first time, Jongho remained the perfect picture of professionalism. His hands never wandered a hair further than they needed to, and though he didn’t speak much, he would warn Wooyoung before working closer to a tender area.
It seemed like he truly was only there for the massage.
Which should have delighted Wooyoung. But instead, he found himself slightly offended that the masseuse remained detached even when the idol flipped onto his back and beamed at him. In fact, it almost seemed like Jongho was avoiding looking at Wooyoung’s face. Not to be so easily deterred, he decided to strike up a conversation. “So you know Yeosangie?”
“I do.” Jongho answered shortly, continuing his long strokes down Wooyoung’s forearm, thumbs digging into the sore muscles.
Wooyoung kept himself from scowling, hoping his outwardly cheerful energy would relax the other man. “And Sannie too, I hear.” He prodded further. Jongho’s hands hesitated for a millisecond, but he resumed his work so quickly Wooyoung thought he might have imagined it. As the seconds ticked by and Jongho didn’t answer, it triggered a bad habit that he thought he had long since squashed – the desire to poke the proverbial bear. “Are you not going to answer me?”
“I didn’t hear a question, Jung-ssi.” Jongho responded curtly, his words polite at surface level but his intent to end the conversation clear.
“How do you know them?” Wooyoung watched his face closely.
“Answering personal questions isn’t included in my contract, Jung-ssi. Nor is entertaining you.”
Well damn. Wooyoung didn’t hide how that made him pout. The air grew thick with tension, and he sighed, closing his eyes to avoid having to look up at Jongho. This is my relaxing time. Don’t let a grumpy therapist with no social skills ruin it.
Despite his lack of success with gaining any new information from the enigma that was giving him his massage, the actual session itself was divine. When Jongho stepped out of the room to give him time to change, Wooyoung was already feeling better than he had an hour prior. He wanted to be infuriated by it, but in the end, he decided that a bit of unpleasant bedside manner could be tolerated in exchange for superior technique. Plus it was a thousand times better than being groped.
Fully dressed, Wooyoung opened the door to the studio to let Jongho back in to pack up his equipment. Seonghwa followed the masseuse in, handing Wooyoung a coffee cup, which he took several long swigs of and let out a deep groan. “What would I do without you, hyung?”
“Die, probably.” Seonghwa quipped.
“I always recommend water to my clients after a session.” Jongho spoke without looking over at the idol.
“Coffee has water in it.” Wooyoung snapped back. “And if you think I’ll be able to pry my eyes open for a whole ass radio show on water alone, you’ve got the wrong idea about me.”
Jongho’s eyes flicked to the clock, clearly registering the late hour. “Hmm.”
“I’ll make sure he drinks water before bed.” Seonghwa reassured him.
“You’re not my mom.” Wooyoung sulked.
Seonghwa shot a warning glare at him before turning a pleasant smile to the masseuse, who was watching impassively. “Please feel free to reach out with any concerns before the next appointment. Have a good night, Jongho-ssi.”
“You as well, Seonghwa-ssi.” Jongho bowed and exited the room, not showing any sign of being upset about being dismissed.
Not like he shows any emotion anyways. Wooyoung thought.
When they were alone, Seonghwa turned an evil eye on Wooyoung. “What was that about?”
“What?” Wooyoung asked sullenly.
“You know what! I thought you liked this one! Are you trying to run him off by acting like a child?”
“I wasn’t acting like a child!” Wooyoung protested heatedly. “He wouldn’t answer my questions! Then he gave some uppity line about how he wasn’t contractually obligated to entertain me or some bullsh*t.”
Seonghwa exhaled, running a weary hand through his bangs. “He’s not technically wrong. Look, Young-ah, you may not be best friends, but could avoid aggravating him? If he’s good at his job, can you deal with the silence? Not everyone is as friendly as you.”
Wooyoung swirled his coffee around in his cup, taking another swig. “He didn’t have to be so rude about it.” He pouted. “I was just trying to get to know him.”
Seonghwa’s stern expression cracked into understanding. “Don’t take it personally. Maybe he just needs more time to warm up!”
---------------
Grumpy masseuse aside, the next massage couldn’t come soon enough for Wooyoung. He had been up since the wee hours of the morning to prerecord for a music show and had been going nonstop since. Halfway through the day, he had a few minutes to shove water and half a bowl of rice down his throat, during which he practically begged Seonghwa to find time for another appointment.
The thought of doing all this again tomorrow with how much his muscles were aching seemed impossible. Thankfully, his manager came through and told him Jongho had agreed to come for an extra session that evening. Wooyoung teared up when he delivered the news, exhaustion weighing on him.
Returning to the company after his last schedule almost claimed the last of his energy since his brain associated the building with work. But he wrestled it down in the pursuit of not being stiff and sore and cranky tomorrow.
When he walked into the studio, the massage table was already set up and Jongho was leaning against the wall. “Jung-ssi.” He greeted softly.
Magnanimously forgetting his irritation with the masseuse, Wooyoung gave a tired smile. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“The occasional necessity of extra sessions is understandable given your work and included in my contract. There’s no need to thank me.” Jongho responded blandly.
Wooyoung drooped, not having the emotional reserve to maintain his idol persona, which was similar to his own personality but magnified. “Okay.”
Jongho pushed himself off the wall. “I’ll step out.” He walked to stand in front of Wooyoung, mechanically raising the cup in his hand in offering.
Wooyoung frowned, eyes refusing to focus on the item. “What’s that?”
“For you.”
Wooyoung blinked the sleep from his eyes, identifying the logo on the cup as a local coffee shop open late that he often frequented. “Is that coffee? I don’t have another schedule after this. I actually need to sleep tonight.”
Jongho pushed the cup into his hands. “It’s tea. Not caffeinated. Good for your throat. And it’ll help you sleep.” He explained.
“Why?” Wooyoung asked tiredly.
“Seonghwa-ssi suggested you were burning the candle at both ends.” Jongho shrugged. “I had extra time on my walk over. It’s not a big deal. Let me know when you’re ready.” He left the room quickly.
Wooyoung stared at the empty space that the masseuse had abandoned, then quizzically down at the drink in his hand. Did I just hallucinate that? He was sleep deprived enough that it wasn’t totally out of the question. Only one way to find out… He took a tentative sip, bracing for a bitter herbal tea, but he was shocked when instead the sweet flavors of lemon and honey burst on his tongue. A little bubble of warmth wormed into his chest from the considerate gesture. Maybe he isn’t that bad after all.
The idol took several more mouthfuls, feeling the stress ooze away from his body with each one as it warmed him from the inside out. Not wanting to melt into a puddle and lose the strength to convince his limbs to move again, he carefully set the tea off to the side to finish later, disrobed, and climbed into the bed. “Ready!” He called out.
Jongho re-entered the room after his beckoning. Wooyoung heard him rustling around, likely gathering his oils. He was surprised when soft strings filtered through the studio’s speakers – clearly Seonghwa had provided instructions to the masseuse to access them. Between the fatigue, the tea, the music, and the relaxing sensation of Jongho’s hands confidently working his muscles into mush, it didn’t take long for him to start dozing. He was awake enough to follow the murmured commands, but when he turned over onto his stomach and even the faint lights of the room were taken away with his face pressed into the headrest, it became harder and harder to fight off the siren song of sleep.
The next thing he knew, Wooyoung was being shaken by the shoulder. “What?” he mumbled grumpily.
“Jung-ssi, wake up.”
“I’m awake. But why?” Wooyoung turned his head to the side to balefully glare at Jongho. “Do you know rare it is for me to get undisturbed sleep during comeback season? Even for an hour?”
“I apologize for waking you. You are in a vulnerable position during a session, and that would be exponentially increased if you are asleep. It wasn’t a scenario we had discussed, and I didn’t want to assume. Your comfort and safety are not something I take lightly, nor did I want such an assumption to compromise your trust.” Jongho apologized politely.
Wooyoung blinked sleepily, a distant part of his brain surprised by the long string of words from the typically succinct masseuse. “I appreciate you checking.” He mumbled, lifting his head long enough to look Jongho in the eyes to convey his sincerity. “But next time let me sleep.”
“Noted.”
---------------
Inevitably toward the end of his comeback schedule, Wooyoung noticed his throat growing raspier and his body getting stiffer. Sleeping for short periods in odd positions backstage or in the car while in transit or between shoots was catching up with him. One particularly bad knot in his neck from sleeping sideways was giving him a lot of trouble during his choreography, and it was only his extensive experience and commitment to giving the best performance possible that allowed him to finish the song without wincing.
Given it was his penultimate comeback stage, the idol was determined to push through. He finished his prerecording and made it back to his waiting room, but as soon as he was out of sight of any cameras, he collapsed onto the sofa, whining at the pain that spiked up his neck and into his head.
“Wooyoung-ah, are you going to be okay to finish this?” Seonghwa asked worriedly.
“I’ll be okay. My fans are expecting an incredible stage. Just give me a few minutes.” Wooyoung mumbled, head throbbing. He was relieved when he heard Seonghwa hushing the staff in the room and let himself drift off, stiffly positioned to avoid flattening his hair, smudging his makeup, or crumpling his stage outfit.
He whined when an unspecified time later, his head was lifted off its comfortable pillow. I know it’s not time for me to go back yet. Who would be so heartless as to move me? Wooyoung cracked his eyes open and looked up to see Jongho staring back at him. “Why?”
“Seonghwa-ssi called me, said it was an emergency.”
“And you came running to save the damsel, is that right?” Wooyoung snarked, sharp tongue not curbed by its usual filter in his exhausted state. “f*ck off and let me rest.”
“The tension in your neck will affect your singing. You won’t be able to dance full out either, not without significant pain.” Jongho stated calmly.
“Don’t tell me how to do my job. You’re practically a fetus. You’ll probably just make it worse.” Wooyoung snarled. “I’m fine.”
Jongho’s expression might as well have been carved in stone from how little it betrayed. He wordlessly pressed his strong fingers into the base of Wooyoung’s skull and the idol barely bit back a groan of pain. “Are you?” He challenged.
Wooyoung took several deep breaths to keep from swearing at the masseuse. “What happened to the customer’s always right?”
“My clients know I’m always right.” Jongho responded tonelessly, hands supporting Wooyoung’s head in a gentler manner now that his point had been made.
“Don’t mess up my hair or Sannie will kill you.” Wooyoung said, no energy for his usual bantering but refusing to give in so easily.
“I’ve worked with idols before. I know the drill.” Jongho deadpanned. “Now relax, Jung-ssi. I’m going to do my job so you can do yours.”
Wooyoung felt like putty in Jongho’s capable hands as he slowly coaxed the tension out of his overworked muscles. Each press of his fingers found a new area of tension but despite the time that passed, he didn’t pause even when most would have had to stop due to cramping hands.
“Ten minutes, Young-ah.” Seonghwa warned softly from the other side of the room.
Wooyoung forced himself to sit up, no matter how much he wanted to remain pliable in the masseuse’s care. He tilted his head back and forth, relieved when he wasn’t met with shooting pain. “Damn, you’re a miracle worker.”
Jongho was busy looking at his hands, the faintest hint of disgust on his face betrayed by his scrunched nose. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Jung-ssi.” He said politely.
Wooyoung leaned closer to see what had the other distracted, chortling when he saw the body glitter that had transferred onto Jongho’s hands from his skin. “Sorry about that. Occupational hazard.”
Jongho’s eyes dropped to the triangle of exposed skin on his chest. “I’m sure your fans appreciate it. Perhaps you should consider surprising them.”
“Surprising them how?” Wooyoung frowned.
Jongho shrugged. “I wouldn’t dare to make suggestions to a professional.”
Smarmy bastard. Wooyoung thought, but rather than feeling annoyed, he was amused by what could be seen as banter if he squinted his eyes just right. “I don’t know if you’ve watched any of my performances, Jongho-ssi, but I’m kind of known for the teasing. I can’t give it all away so easily. Besides, it’s not like I have the body like some of those rookies.” The idol glanced into the mirror, checking for any touch-ups he would need. Fortunately, aside from the glitter, Jongho was as good as his word and his hair and makeup were still flawless and untouched. “So you’ve worked with idols before?” He prompted, taking a big swig of water to moisten his throat.
“I have.” Jongho answered shortly.
“Who? Maybe we’ve been in the same circles without even realizing!”
Jongho smiled politely. “You’re not the only one with an NDA, Jung-ssi. I’ll be going now. Best wishes for your performance.” He bowed and exited the room.
Wooyoung stared after him, befuddled.
“Feeling better?” Seonghwa squeezed his shoulder.
Wooyoung nodded slowly. “Thank you for calling him, hyung. I would’ve been fine, but I appreciate it.”
Seonghwa smiled. “Now you can perform without worrying. That’s my job.”
“Hyung…” Wooyoung trailed off.
Seonghwa tilted his head to the side, encouraging the idol to continue.
“Do you think I could pull off a sexier concept for the next comeback?” Wooyoung asked.
“Wooyoung-ah, you’re very determined, so I’m quite certain you could do whatever you’d like.” Seonghwa patted his cheek. “What’s this about? Nervous for your last stages? Feeling your age catching up with you?”
Wooyoung chuckled, letting the subject drop. “You know how it is, hyung.”
“Come on, you’ll do great!” Seonghwa encouraged him.
“You’re right, thanks hyung!” Wooyoung smiled, rising from the couch.
Before going back onto the stage, he sent a quick text to Mingi. His producer had been pushing him to test his creative boundaries for months, so maybe this would be his chance.
It had nothing to do with the massage therapist.
Absolutely nothing.
---------------
It was only one day later when Wooyoung saw Jongho, after his last comeback show. The idol was still floating on the adrenaline of a successful promotion period, so he beamed at the massage therapist. “I won my last music show!”
“Congratulations.” Jongho commented blandly.
Wooyoung pouted. “Can’t you be a little happier? It’s a big achievement.”
“You’ve won enough music shows, I hadn’t thought you’d be so thrilled over one at this stage of your career.” Jongho answered.
“Each win is special! My fans work hard to show their appreciation for the songs I’m putting out, so I can only work harder to make sure they can continue to be proud of me as their idol.” Wooyoung nodded with determination.
“I see.” Jongho turned to leave. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Wait!”
Jongho stopped in his tracks, turning to look back at the idol. “Yes, Jung-ssi?”
“In the spirit of my win, can you grant me a wish?” Wooyoung smiled winningly, trying to entice the other to agree to his proposal.
“You can ask.” Jongho allowed, not committing to following through on the request.
“Can you lighten up a little? I want us to be friendly.” Wooyoung requested. “You’re one of the best massage therapists I’ve had, so I imagine we’ll be spending quite a bit of time together in the future.”
Jongho blinked. “There’s no need to exaggerate to garner favor. I know I’m good at my job. You don’t have to force compliments.”
Wooyoung threw his hands up into the air. “Did you hear nothing I said? I’m not prone to lying, not even to get my way. I don’t know anything about you, can’t you throw me a bone?”
“Why does this bother you so much?” The slightest furrow appeared between Jongho’s brows, marring his otherwise composed expression. “For all intents and purposes, I am an employee providing a service in return for compensation. I can’t imagine you give this much attention to the receptionist at the desk or the trash collectors in the halls or the servers in the cafeteria.”
“Yeah, well, they don’t exactly have their hands all over my naked body every time we see each other, do they?” Wooyoung groused.
“I can do my work over your clothes if you prefer.”
“That’s not the point!” Wooyoung groaned. For all appearances of being an extrovert who could charm anyone (he was an idol, it was his job), he didn’t actually trust easily. “Can’t you just… tell me something about yourself? Anything? Please?”
Jongho continued to gaze at him steadily, seemingly weighing his options. “It was never my plan to be a massage therapist.” He finally revealed, the tone of his statement heavy with the weight of unsaid words. But his stiff posture made it clear that he would be offering no further insight.
Instead of drawing attention to the tiny detail he was gifted and risk alienating the tightlipped masseuse, Wooyoung smiled. “I’ll call you when I’m ready?”
Jongho nodded once and disappeared out the door.
After the session was complete and Wooyoung was fully dressed, he removed his wallet from his backpack. Thankfully, fate had decided to be kind to him, because for once he had cash in his wallet. He separated a few larger bills, then turned and waved them at Jongho. “Here, a tip for you.”
“That isn’t necessary.” Jongho continued to fold up his equipment, not sparing the bills a second glance.
Wooyoung pursed his lips, scheming how to match Jongho’s energy and make him accept the tip. “Look, it’s not a big deal. It’s a thank you for being so flexible around my schedule this comeback. Honestly, I haven’t come out of promotions feeling this good in a long time.”
“Compensation for additional sessions and late notice is included in my contract.”
“Jongho-ssi, you’re an employee providing a service for money.” Wooyoung parroted his words back at him. “As your client, I can choose to augment your compensation as I see fit.” He stared at the masseuse, whose blank expression didn’t change. “Oh, come on. Not even a bit of a smile? That was funny!”
“I can’t smile.” Jongho admitted. “I have a medical condition.”
“f*ck, really?” Wooyoung’s mouth dropped open in shock, apologies crowding to the front of his mind in a confusing tangle. “I’m so sorry, that was so insensitive of me!” His bumbling attempts to string words together comprehensively were interrupted by the magical sound of laughter.
As an idol, Wooyoung had the opportunity to listen to incredibly talented musicians perform at the peak of their career. None of those performances had the same impact as the bright melodious laugh. In all his years of listening to heartfelt lyrics and soulful voices, he had never heard anything so beautiful. He stared wide-eyed at the masseuse whose face was split with a beaming smile, nose scrunched and cheeks squished up and f*ck, it was the cutest thing he had ever seen.
“I apologize. I couldn’t resist.” Jongho reigned in his laughter and bowed slightly in his direction.
“It’s okay.” Wooyoung said automatically, mind trying to reconcile the momentary flash of mischief with the dour-faced massage therapist he had encountered every prior session.
“We don’t currently have out next session scheduled, pending your finalized plans for your break.” Jongho returned to business, but the merriment was still visible in the tiny creases by his eyes and the curls at the corners of his lips. “Have Seonghwa-ssi contact me when you want to book again.” The massage therapist bowed again, then ducked out of the room.
Not long after, Seonghwa entered. “Everything okay?”
Wooyoung jolted out of his trance, looking down at his hand, still clutching the tip he had tried to offer. “That sneaky f*cker got away!”
---------------
Being on break didn’t mean there was a paucity of work. Wooyoung didn’t have to worry as much about his public appearances and schedules, but he did have to record new songs, learn new choreography, attend meetings regarding his future comebacks and tours, keep up with his fitness, along with his personal pet projects of editing videos and cooking.
Taking the rare opportunity to sleep in this morning, it required the work of five increasingly ear-splitting alarms to rouse him from bed in time for his fitting. Running late, he knew he was going to get roasted for his clothing choices and general appearance by his stylist, who was always immaculately dressed regardless of the time of day. In an effort to appease him, Wooyoung bought an extra coffee to bring with him (and hopefully lessen his wrath).
He scurried into the studio, throwing his bag to the side. “Your favorite dongsaeng is here, hyung! Don’t kill me – I brought coffee!”
Kim Hongjoong stared at him imperiously, tapping his studded boot on the floor. “Do you think I would be so easily bought Young-ah? My time is valuable.”
“I know, hyung, and I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.” Wooyoung set the coffees down and clasped his hands together pleadingly. “Please let me live!”
“Only because Hwa would be out of a job if I did.” Hongjoong muttered.
Saved. Wooyoung sighed in relief.
He had originally met Hongjoong when he was a rookie idol, having slipped away from Seonghwa’s mindful gaze long enough to duck into a dark club. High on adrenaline from escaping and simultaneously wanting to be recognized and be anonymous, he distractedly ran into the other man. While offering his apology, Wooyoung got a good look under the flashing lights and couldn’t stop himself from complimenting the man’s jacket.
Instead of the expected gratitude for the compliment, he was met with a dead-eyed stare and a question if he was trying to get free drinks or charm his way into his pants.
When Wooyoung only stared quizzically, the other introduced himself and that he was the bartender, currently on break. Before they could talk longer, Wooyoung’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he whipped it out to see twelve missed calls and countless angry texts from his manager.
It had taken a few days before Wooyoung managed to break away again, but when he returned, Hongjoong was still at the bar. Even though he was aware it was the bartender’s job to listen and ply him with alcohol, it felt like the older man had a soft spot for him.
One day after a particularly bad stage, Wooyoung was complaining about the outfits the stylists were insisting he wear – the feathers, the ruffles, the patterns, the layers. Hongjoong visibly tensed with each additional detail before aggressively stopping the flow of words with his hand over Wooyoung’s mouth.
The short version of the story was that Wooyoung had utilized his growing fanbase to push out the stodgy older stylists who refused to step outside of the box by wearing Hongjoong’s designs every opportunity he had outside of work. His fans, noticing how much better those outfits complimented his frame and his concepts than his actual stage attire, started to ask questions. Wooyoung proudly proclaimed his hyung had designed each outfit, slyly adding that he was an aspiring stylist and would love feedback on his choices.
The company, seeing how well-received these outfits were and how much positive publicity they were generating, grudgingly changed their tune and hired Hongjoong as a stylist.
Perhaps the funniest part of this story was how starry eyed Seonghwa was over the new member of their team. Despite Hongjoong’s prickly exterior, not even he was immune to Seonghwa’s charms, and it only took a few months for them to admit to Wooyoung that they were dating. While the stylist continued to create impeccable outfits for the idol, it didn’t escape Wooyoung’s notice that his manager started to show up in increasingly stylish outfits for his schedules.
It wasn’t like he could blame Hongjoong for finding a new muse in his manager. In another life, Seonghwa could’ve easily become an idol himself.
Wooyoung used the fact that he had basically been responsible for them meeting to his advantage. Particularly in cases like today when Hongjoong was pissed at him. Even so, he was careful to follow instructions and not get mouthy as he often did just to rile up his hyung.
“What are you scheming?”
Wooyoung frowned, feigning innocence. “Scheming, hyung? I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re too obedient. Why.” Hongjoong muttered, pins held between his teeth.
“I don’t have a death wish?” Wooyoung responded tentatively.
Hongjoong eyed him suspiciously. “You’re hardly twitching. Normally I have to force you to stand up straight for fittings after a comeback season.”
Wooyoung shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “I don’t feel too bad after this one.”
“Oh, right.” Hongjoong rolled his eyes.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Wooyoung yelped, affronted.
“Hwa told me about your little crush.”
“It’s not a crush!” Wooyoung protested. “He’s just a talented masseuse, that’s all.”
“Right.” Hongjoong said, clearly unconvinced.
“Hyung, seriously. He’s a fetus. I can’t have a crush on him.” Wooyoung said decisively, even as he remembered the addictive sound of laughter and the adorable gummy smile.
“You look awfully lost in thought for him being just a talented masseuse.” Hongjoong accused. “You can daydream all you want, but don’t you dare get hard in my clothes. I refuse to have them sullied with such filth.” He pinched one of Wooyoung’s nipples to accentuate his point.
Wooyoung flinched, hand coming up to shield his chest from any more attempts at abuse. “Hyung, you know that isn’t going to help!”
“What are we talking about?” Seonghwa breezed in, planting a kiss on Hongjoong’s cheek.
“Wooyoungie’s degradation kink.” Hongjoong said, pokerfaced.
“Again? You really should get that under control, Young-ah.” Seonghwa looked at him disapprovingly. “Or at least not go around announcing it. It’s not good for your image.”
“My fans love my honesty, thank you very much.” Wooyoung pouted. “But more importantly, your husband is bullying me, Hwa-hyung!”
“I’m sure you deserved it.” Seonghwa responded without missing a beat. “What did he do this time, Joong-ah?”
“He was waxing poetic about his masseuse boy.”
“He’s not my-”
“Oh, the poor thing has been gushing for days.” Seonghwa interrupted any attempt of Wooyoung’s to protest. “I may have to cut it off before it turns into an addiction.”
What will distract them? Wooyoung thought, frantically searching for another topic. Work! Hongjoong-hyung is a workaholic to his core. “Hyung, do you think one of my concert looks can be sexy?”
Hongjoong flicked his forehead. “All my clothes are sexy, what do you mean?”
“Right, of course. I was thinking maybe going shirtless under a jacket?” Wooyoung proposed.
Hongjoong circled him, muttering to himself, any thoughts of teasing vanished by the promise of an interesting challenge. It had been several comebacks since Wooyoung had deliberately played into his sex appeal.
“What’s with this sudden interest in looking sexy, Wooyoung-ah?” Seonghwa prompted. “You mentioned it the other day as well.”
Wooyoung flushed, unable to answer Jongho had inspired him without getting teased mercilessly. “I’ve had a few comebacks that were more lighthearted. I figured going back to something darker for a stage or two wouldn’t hurt. I am a grown man, after all.”
“Hmm.” Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t for a certain massage therapist?”
Wooyoung forced a laugh. “Hyung, most of our encounters happen when I’m naked. I hardly think a stage outfit is going to catch his attention. And that’s assuming he watches any of my performances, which there is no evidence supporting.”
“But you didn’t deny you want to catch his attention!” Seonghwa exclaimed triumphantly.
“Shut up.” Wooyoung slumped.
Seonghwa laughed, coming closer to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tease. It’s been forever since I’ve seen you down so bad. I think it’s cute.”
“I just want him to like me.” Wooyoung finally said. “It’s rare to have someone who isn’t dazzled by the bright lights and the stages and the fans, who doesn’t want something from Jung Wooyoung the idol. He just… doesn’t care. I even tried to tip him the other day and he wouldn’t take it!”
Seonghwa and Hongjoong exchanged amused glances. “Wooyoung-ah, have you talked to Mingi about this sudden desire to be sexy again? He might have some ideas about remixing your songs to supplement a tour setlist.” His manager suggested.
“I texted him a few days ago and he told me to come by today once I was done being Hongjoong-hyung’s life-size pincushion.” Wooyoung answered cheekily.
“See if I make you look good after that, you brat.” Hongjoong growled playfully, shooing the idol away. “Get out of here. I need to sketch.”
Freed from another hour of standing stiffly under Hongjoong’s intense scrutiny, Wooyoung scurried out of the room before he could take it back. Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to go to Mingi’s studio a bit early, he wound his way through the corridors to his destination.
He rapped his knuckles against the door in a halfhearted effort at knocking before throwing the door open loudly. “Mingi-yah, I hope you’re ready to-” Wooyoung choked halfway through his words at the sight that met him behind the formerly closed door. Mingi was on his back on the couch, Yunho caging him in with long limbs and kissing him heatedly. “Okay, I know I’m early, but I’m not that early.” He said with exasperation.
Yunho broke away from Mingi’s thick lips to glance at the idol. “Oh, hey Young-ah. Didn’t realize what time it was.” He gracefully rolled off the couch to his feet, pretending indifference at being interrupted but tellingly red ears giving him away. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
Wooyoung stared daggers at Mingi once Yunho had escaped the room and closed the door behind him. “Really? In the studio?”
Mingi threw a hand over his eyes with a groan. “I could strangle you right now. He’s been so busy with your comeback that I’ve barely seen him and now you interrupt me?”
“You can suck his face later – we have work to do.” Wooyoung plopped down on the chair next to the desk heavily.
It wasn’t that he was upset with his friends. He was incredibly happy they had found happiness in each other. But okay, maybe it niggled at his ego (and his soft, lonely soul that longed for true companionship) to be the only single person in his circle, but it was next to impossible to find a partner with his schedule as an idol. Particularly as an idol who didn’t appreciate the label of heterosexuality, much to the consternation of his company. His fans may suspect, and he may drop hints, but there was an unspoken rule that he would never openly confirm anyone’s suspicions unless he wanted to implode his career.
Wooyoung’s life was on display in the public eye. Even a simple hookup had to be arranged so carefully that it was more of a nuisance than a worthwhile investment most times. It was easier to return to the comfort of his apartment and take care of himself. On the rare occasions he sought out more, there were assumptions about him, things people wanted from him, people not caring to listen to who he was and what he wanted. All of those factors blended to take what should be a relaxing time away from the spotlight and turn it into an exhausting game of pretending.
A relationship would be impossible to hide. If he was careful, he could put off the inevitable revelation of a partner for a while, certainly. But it was always a matter of when people found out, rather than if.
He was incredibly lucky. He had his adoring fans who stuck with him through thick and thin. He had a loving and supportive family. He had his incredibly talented and caring friends.
And to be fair, his friends never rubbed his chronic single status in his face. But there were moments when he saw Hongjoong staring at Seonghwa with so much love, when Mingi brought an exhausted Yunho food and raised his spirits when his energy was flagging, when Yeosang and San tucked themselves away into a corner of the dressing room to giggle at silly videos on one of their phones… those moments, they were the ones that made his heart yearn for more.
“Sorry.” Wooyoung said unsympathetically, tone betraying the lack of sincerity in his words.
Mingi took another deep breath before sitting up. “No you aren’t.”
“You’re right, I’m not.” Wooyoung chuckled, looking at Mingi and abruptly dropping his gaze away when the taller man stood to move into the studio chair next to him. “Whoa, put that thing away.”
Mingi glanced down at where his bulge was pressed against the front of his trousers. “f*ck off, you’re the one who interrupted. Not like you haven’t seen it before.”
Wooyoung scoffed at the reminder. Mingi and Yunho had both been idol trainees with him when they were younger. Mingi had been an impressive performer and rapper, but decided his anxiety would make the lifestyle hell for him and diverted to producing and staying more behind the scenes. Occasionally Yunho would pull him into choreographing, saying his role in composition made him understand the placement of the beats and riffs better. In addition, he would often still join as a backup dancer for tours, saying he would miss Yunho too much to not go with them, but in reality there was a part of him that couldn’t stay away from the stage.
Yunho had stuck out the trainee lifestyle slightly longer than Mingi, more out of loyalty to Wooyoung than a true desire to debut by the end. The rigorous training made it apparent to him that he really just loved to dance and wanted to do so without the pressure of the idol life. It didn’t help that he had started seeing Mingi during their trainee period, and he was adamant that he wouldn’t treat his boyfriend like an unwanted secret.
The end result was that Yunho was Wooyoung’s choreographer and worked exclusively with him onstage. He would occasionally consult for other groups when he wasn’t involved in Wooyoung’s comebacks and tours, but those moments were few and far between. Not because of a lack of demand – companies and idols clamored for his attention, begging that he share his brilliant mind for crafting the dances to match the mood of a song and his impressive dancing prowess.
Despite that, similarly to when they were trainees, Yunho stuck stubbornly by Wooyoung’s side. As Wooyoung grew in fame, so did Yunho. It didn’t take long for him to develop his own fanbase, going from being known as ‘Wooyoung’s hot backup dancer’ to Jeong Yunho, the genius choreographer responsible for the addicting dance routines Wooyoung was known for.
As his friend, Yunho always took his comfort into consideration, serving as his mirror for any partner work despite the difference in their sizes. Even though he wasn’t technically the main attraction, his stage presence was legendary. To add to that, when Mingi joined the picture as the second giant framing Wooyoung’s side, they were a sight to behold with their crisp moves and effortless swagger.
Mingi and Yunho’s relationship was well known in the industry and though they didn’t flaunt it, they also made no attempt to hide it. The close quarters and responsibilities and stress and adrenaline of performances had led them to invite Wooyoung into their bed more than once.
“So you want to tap into your sexy side again?” Mingi prompted, flipping the switch, suddenly all business.
Wooyoung nodded, relieved to scrape by without further scrutiny or prying questions. “I was thinking for the upcoming tour we could make some remixes that leaned into that aesthetic and really pull out all the stops going into award show season.”
“Have you replaced your in-ears recently?” Mingi asked, seemingly off topic.
“No, why?” Wooyoung asked with a frown.
“The screams, Young-ah. You have to prepare for the screams.” Mingi smirked at him before dropping back into his producer mode. “Okay, what songs were you thinking?”
---------------
Buoyed by the thoughts of his upcoming performances, Wooyoung floated through practices like he was invincible. No matter how much his mind believed it was true, his body promptly reminded him that, yes, he was human and his joints did not appreciate the passionate stomping required by some of his hardest dances, thank you very much.
Wooyoung had assumed his usual post-practice starfish position, chest heaving for breath as the dancers filed out of the room. He was confused by the hasty exit until a pair of sleek black loafers stopped a few feet from his head and he looked up to see Jongho standing above him. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this!” He wheezed, beaming up at the masseuse.
“Are you unsatisfied with my services, Jung-ssi?” Jongho asked icily.
What? Wooyoung blinked, cycling back through his words as he clambered to his feet. “That’s not what I meant! I was referring to me being a sweaty mess and you looking like you just got out of an office meeting. Why the business casual, anyways? That can’t be comfortable to work in.”
“Says the man who performs in leather pants.” Jongho shot back.
Surprised by the snappy response, Wooyoung stared. He’s watched me perform?
Jongho visibly withdrew into himself as if realizing what slipped out. “My apologies. This attire helps stave off questions of my expertise from other clients.”
Wooyoung pouted as the interesting human was tucked back into the professional shell. “I’m not your only client?”
“…no.” An odd pause prefaced Jongho’s answer.
“But I’m your favorite, right?” Wooyoung refused to be discouraged, smiling brightly at the other man.
“I don’t have favorite clients, Jung-ssi.” Jongho responded primly.
“It’s okay, I know I’m your favorite.” Wooyoung winked, ducking back into the showers to rinse off in record time before bursting back into the room. “I am desperately in need of your help. These extra practices have me falling apart.”
Jongho politely turned his back as Wooyoung climbed into the bed, a newer development over the past few massages. The idol had stopped requesting he leave the room, but the masseuse still refused to compromise his comfort. “What areas would you like me to target, Jung-ssi?”
“All of them?” Wooyoung asked hopefully, voice muffled into the face cradle and hearing the slightest huff of exasperated amusem*nt in response. “Look, I refuse to get on a plane while I’m feeling like this, I don’t care how short the trip to Japan is.”
“Are you supposed to share that?” Jongho asked mildly as he got to work.
“Can I ask you another personal question?” Wooyoung moved on without answering.
“Why?”
“Because I want to know you.” Wooyoung responded promptly. “You can afford to answer questions without compromising your commitment to being an enigma.”
“You seem sure of that.” Jongho kneaded his knuckles into Wooyoung’s feet.
“I would offer to answer your questions to make it equal, but I’m an open book. You can find out almost anything about me on the internet or fan sites or in magazines or interviews.” Wooyoung squeaked slightly when Jongho’s grip tightened on his sore calves.
“You can ask.”
“How old are you?” Wooyoung asked the question that had been burning through his mind. Seonghwa hadn’t totally dissuaded him from calling the masseuse a fetus, which gave him a clue that he was younger, but the comment about Jongho’s nontraditional path to the job made him wonder.
Jongho nudged him to turn onto his back, respectfully turning his eyes away again. “I’m a ’00 liner.” He finally caved.
“Damn!” Wooyoung laughed. He’s closer to my age than I thought. “I would’ve thought you were at least forty from your mannerisms.” The slightest twitch of the corner of Jongho’s lips in response made him feel like he’d won a grand prize. Not wanting to push his luck, he remained quiet until the end of the session. “Have you ever been to Japan?”
“I haven’t.” Jongho replied.
“Would you like to?” Wooyoung asked eagerly. “I have a showcase there next week. Between rehearsal and soundcheck and the show, I want to be in tiptop shape and I can’t do that without you.”
“I can’t.” Jongho declined quickly.
“Oh.” Wooyoung drooped at the quick refusal, then frowned. “You didn’t even hear the dates!”
Jongho took a deep breath. “You aren’t my only responsibility, Jung-ssi. But you can have Seonghwa-ssi send me the information and I will review it if you feel this will positively impact your performance.” He bowed politely, tucking his equipment away quickly.
“Wait!” The door to the rehearsal studio slammed before the word made its way out of his throat and Wooyoung was left staring dumbfoundedly at himself in the mirror.
Seonghwa came into the room, bewildered. “What on earth did you say to him? I’ve never seen him leave so quickly.”
“I asked if he wanted to come to Japan.” Wooyoung responded dazedly, looking at his manager. “Surely that isn’t a question that would make him run like I cursed his family?”
Seonghwa looked at the closed door then back at Wooyoung. “How important is it to you that he’s there? As an artist?”
Pulling his mind out of the imaginary clouds of him and Jongho wandering the streets of Japan hand in hand, Wooyoung sighed. “I do think it would benefit me if he was there. Strictly professionally.”
“And off the record?”
Wooyoung thought about lying, but he knew Seonghwa would see straight through him even if he tried. “I want to see him outside of a work environment and this might be my chance.”
Seonghwa nodded. “Okay then. Let me talk to him.”
