Ooh, I don't remember seeing a wagon like that... parents had a 4-door but it had a trunk, not a hatch.
Yeah, I keep wanting more cars, but nowhere to put them and no real need. Though I might be able to squeeze a 1976 600 coupe next to the stairs...
I wouldn't say it's all that odd. I think it is cute too, but I knew Priscilla lol and loved that car. I like the car we bought! I do have a thing for black and shiny hehe. I think your taste in cars reflects your personality perfectly. lol
Binchou-tan is a tiny girl living in an old house in the mountains. One day, she wakes up, starts meal preparations, goes out to get more ingredients, goes home, fixes her meal, eats it, and goes to sleep. The end.
I should point out that this is a 12-minute episode, but the pace was so slow, that it felt like a full 25-minute episode.
I should also point out that "Binchou-tan" is cute and does everything with gratuitous cuteness, and rides on a duck's back on the way to go get her ingredients.
The pace makes "Kokoro Library" look like... "Hellsing"? Naw, the difference is not that extreme. How about "To Heart"? :) I found the pace and the soft music very relaxing, and it might do the work of a dose of melatonin to help you get to sleep.
Sorry I was a no-show at Gallifrey. I meant to go, but I stayed up late Saturday night and didn't feel like getting out of bed on Sunday. Not sick, just lazy.
We did check out the second episode too, which has a similar plot. At least, that was what we thought when we woke up from our coma. ;)
Translator's Note: Binchoutan is a charcoal that is useful for many different things. Here, Binchou-tan affixes a piece of binchoutan charcoal to her head, so her name is a play on words.
So, this girl doesn't have worlds inside her and doesn't keep swallowing her boyfriend and elephants at carnivals? :)
Aaaayyy guys. Thank you so much for the feedback on the first chapter! I was surprised I even got readers considering this is a WhiteKies fic ❤
I’ve been struggling with this second chapter for over a month, but this monster has totally spiraled out of control. Now I’m forced to split this chapter “Unspoken” into two parts -_- Hopefully the word-count makes up for the wait!
PLEASE NOTE: The segments of this fic still alternate between the present Sechskies and from before their disbandment. So the events mentioned are not chronological, where some segments may refer vaguely to things that will be explained at a later point in the fic.
What that fault is, he cannot define exactly. But there are times, increasingly frequent, when he sees the way Sunghoon looks at him, acts around him, and he feels inexplicably guilty about it.
It’s not that Sunghoon is downright explicit about it, either. Even as the weeks blur into months and Sechskies, miraculously, rise to dominate the music charts and make a niche for themselves in South Korea’s budding K-pop scene, Sunghoon never actually says anything about it to Suwon.
But it all comes down to the fact that Suwon comes to know, regardless, and that awareness leaves him with the bizarre feeling that he has to do something.
Like all life crises, it starts out slow and subtle, like how waves recede from the shore before the towering wall of a tsunami emerges on the horizon. Suwon knew from the day they met that Sunghoon will not be another average person in his life; he just hadn’t been prepared for the sheer extent of that reality.
Sunghoon, in general, is a comfortable person to be with. That is something Suwon learns with relief during the earliest days of his training, when he is caught between Jiwon’s mercurial personality and Sunghoon’s consistent warmth.
Jiwon is a hot-and-cold force of nature; he takes his status as the eldest and leader seriously, but he is yet young himself and doesn’t exactly function on a long fuse. It takes time for him to learn to balance his fire, which toes that fine line between childlike and childish, with the deep affection he harbours for Sunghoon and comes to harbour for Suwon.
But until the day Jiwon reaches that point, Suwon is glad to have Sunghoon to turn to. Sunghoon, with his calm and sensibility, has enough patience to make up for Jiwon’s intensity. Suwon doesn’t exactly think of Jiwon as a devil but, in contrast, Sunghoon does feel like the angel that offsets their quicksilver leader.
He mentors Suwon through his vocal and breath-control lessons without complaint, pointing out every mistake the younger makes and teaching him how to improve. All of this he does with a gentle and welcoming nature that helps to solidify their working relationship into a real friendship. That is how those days of arduous training become the era when Suwon truly believes, if only temporarily, that all they really are to each other are good friends and compatible colleagues.
It’s also appreciated that Sunghoon makes a point of assuring Suwon that Jiwon actually does like him, contrary to how things may seem. Especially after Jiwon’s occasional outbursts when things go wrong during practice.
Suwon doesn’t really need Sunghoon to comfort him, though; he’s not the type to be easily fazed, especially since he’s figured out Jiwon enough to know that the leader is not truly angry with him, just stressed and frustrated. But still, it’s nice to have someone smile at him and tell him he’s not a complete tragedy.
The remark catches Suwon off guard. Praise for his voice is about the last thing he expected to hear.
‘It’s light and smooth. You just need more technique,’ Sunghoon continues when Suwon fails to reply. ‘We’ll get on that after we determine the range that works best for your singing.’
‘I … uh.’ Suwon stares at Sunghoon. For the first time since they became friends, the question he’s been avoiding is back, niggling at the back of his mind.
He can’t say it; he can’t ask what it is that Sunghoon saw in him to choose him, to go through all this trouble of training him from square one. He is inadequate and he knows it, but he just can’t bring himself to ask.
Instead, he steels himself to make good on his word to Jiwon and Sunghoon that he will do his best for the group. It’s the least he can do, to make himself worth Sunghoon’s efforts and Jiwon’s tolerance.
His resolve hardens even further when he sees for himself the limit of Sunghoon’s patience. It happens on the day they meet Kim Jaeduk in person. Suwon’s already been told that he is a dancer but, before he and Jiwon can verify it for themselves, Jaeduk introduces himself first and he does it in all of his loud, boisterous, Busan glory.
It’s shocking, honestly, that thinly veiled look of distaste on Sunghoon’s face when he hears Jaeduk’s rough dialect. Jiwon doesn’t voice any problems with it, instead running Jaeduk through his leader-to-minion drivel, but Suwon’s attention is diverted entirely to Sunghoon. His face is devoid of its usual warmth and he looks downright unhappy.
It is only out of Jaeduk’s earshot a little while later that Suwon hears Sunghoon groan to himself, ‘I don’t want to be in this group anymore.’
The words are tinged with bitterness and exasperation, and Suwon keeps his eyes averted from Sunghoon, pretending he didn’t hear anything. Kim Jaeduk is as friendly as they come and he is attractive in his own way; Suwon is certain that Sunghoon, as the secret in-charge of auditions, must have seen Jaeduk’s looks before he was picked – which means it’s not that Sunghoon finds Jaeduk too ugly for an idol group. He simply hates it that their new member speaks in a dialect.
Suwon doesn’t know how he feels about that. He’s never thought of Sunghoon as supercilious before, but now he suspects that he’s been painting his colleague as being made of purer stuff than he truly is.
The thought continues to bother him until the moment Sunghoon changes his mind about Jaeduk. The newcomer demonstrates his full prowess at dance, his body moving in ways that Suwon cannot ever picture himself mimicking. The movements are both razor sharp and as fluid as water, and when he finishes off with a flamboyant bow, Sunghoon looks genuinely impressed.
Suwon has a feeling that Sunghoon won’t let the dialect go – Jaeduk is very likely facing an immediate future of mastering the standard Seoul accent on top of vocal and dance training. Nonetheless, Suwon is immensely relieved to see that Sunghoon didn’t let something as trivial as a dialect drive him off.
Clearly Kang Sunghoon isn’t as perfect an angel as the first impression he makes – well, who is, really? – but he’s still fundamentally a warm person and Suwon cannot explain why he finds that so important.
It also makes him realise that he doesn’t ever want to see a day when Sunghoon would look at him and decide that Suwon is not worth it. Not worth the time and effort Sunghoon is investing in him; not worth their group.
So he takes it in stride when Sunghoon insists on extra vocal training and singing practice for Suwon. He doesn’t complain either when Jaeduk is assigned as his dance mentor, though after Lee Jaejin joins the team as a second main dancer, Suwon secretly wishes he could train under him instead. Jaejin, too, is a proud son of Busan and he is unapologetically blunt with his thoughts. But he has a strong grasp of the Seoul accent and a calm way of talking – unlike Jaeduk who doesn’t seem to realise that his fiery Busan-speak sounds more like he’s telling Suwon to go jump off a cliff than guiding him through tough dance moves.
But still, Suwon eventually gets used to the accent which, admittedly, is very interesting despite its coarseness. The dance lessons become fun after that, when Jaeduk’s amiable personality isn’t being wholly overshadowed by his dialect. Suwon is happier still when, every now and then, Sunghoon drops by and joins them, because his warm presence acts like a buffer to, well, everything.
As time goes by, everything else also falls into place. They all learn to get along, discovering each other’s quirks and idiosyncrasies, and coming to realise that they actually like them. With Ko Jiyong finally on board, tall and lanky and handsome, their group is finally complete and they are handled with their official name.
Suwon never says it out loud, but it is simultaneously the coolest and lamest thing he’s heard. But hey, they are going up against the white fires of H.O.T which, as their agency never fails to remind them, are burning across every civilised corner of South Korea. They desperately need all the coolness they can flaunt.
That period of transition from training to debut is the stuff of nightmares. All of their energy is invested in practising the secretly despised lyrics of their debut song, mastering its strong choreography, and battling with nerves as they wonder whether people will accept them or not. Every moment of every day is so chaotic and turbulent that not even Suwon could have pinpointed anything unusual in the behaviour of any of the members.
It is only much later – after Sechskies make headlines as powerful rookies to rival H.O.T, and performances end for their debut song and first album – that Suwon notices that the metaphorical waves have long since receded from his shore and the tsunami he hadn’t paid attention to is right overhead.
As Sechskies make the leap to variety shows, the reality of Kang Sunghoon crashes down on Suwon with all the force of a seiche and he is as ill-prepared for it as a camel thrown into the middle of an ocean. It dawns on him that he has been receiving all the warning signs of this fate with Sunghoon since the very beginning – but he’d just had other more pressing things to care about, like launching a career.
But that particular evening, when Suwon finds himself trapped between the wall of an empty practice room and Kang Sunghoon, whose dark eyes are burning with a myriad of emotions that are anything but brotherly, Suwon belatedly thinks that he really, really should have paid more attention to the signs.
‘Sunghoon,’ he says, somehow able to project questioning naiveté into his unsteady voice. ‘Why – what’s going on?’
For all that Suwon is pretending not to pick up on the frankly predatory aura Sunghoon is giving off right now, it is still a sincere question. It is past eleven at night and Suwon had not been expecting to meet Sunghoon or any of the members at DSP headquarters. Sechskies had just ended filming a variety appearance over an hour ago; they have the day off tomorrow for the first time in months and the rest of the members couldn’t go home fast enough. Suwon, on the other hand, had come back to the agency, knowing that security would let him in and the practice rooms would be empty.
And they had been for a blessedly peaceful hour in which he’d practised Sechskies’ dance routines by himself – until Sunghoon appeared out of nowhere, materialising like a ghost over Suwon’s shoulder in the reflection of the huge mirrored wall. Suwon had nearly gone into cardiac arrest right then and there.
Sunghoon’s arrival is startling enough, but Suwon is even less prepared for the fervent look the older is giving him. He advances on Suwon until the younger is backed up right against the wall.
The unnerving position he is in sinks in only after his back hits the cool surface of the mirror; it occurs to Suwon then that he’s never, not once in his life, imagined being in this situation with another boy, let alone a boy who is his colleague, his friend … Sunghoon.
Suwon repeats his name when Sunghoon doesn’t answer immediately. He is in Suwon’s space, not quite touching him but close enough that Suwon can smell the faint musky smell of his cologne; can almost feel the heat of his body.
‘Hoonie,’ he tries again, slipping out the nickname without really thinking. The effect is immediate; Sunghoon’s eyes darken, his pupils dilating noticeably as he parts his lips, the tip of his tongue just visible as he drags it over his teeth.
His voice is low when he finally speaks, a quiet rumble that is unlike his usual tenor, ‘Why are you still practising at this time?’
He’s not only deflecting Suwon’s inquiry, but the nature of Sunghoon’s own question creates a jarring contrast with their not-very-innocent situation. It throws Suwon even more out of the loop and it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts.
He trails off, wondering how to explain that he can work better on improving his dancing without others around to judge him for his slip-ups. But then Sunghoon interrupts,
‘What I meant was, why are you still practising even though promotions ended? We’ve finished all the live performances.’
Suwon doesn’t understand why Sunghoon is asking this, but he answers truthfully, nevertheless, ‘Because I still need more practice than you or the hyungs. I actually made some mistakes in a few of the lives. They weren’t very noticeable, but I have to improve and so, well, yeah…’
Sunghoon doesn’t look surprised at his answer, like he’s already guessed it. ‘But why are you doing it alone? Why not ask Jaeduk hyung or Jaejin hyung for help?’
‘I can correct myself; I just need more practice. Besides, they must be tired. We’ve had activities nonstop for so long -‘
‘Aren’t you tired?’ Sunghoon asks quietly. ‘The lives are over and we’re doing variety now. You can afford to take a break before practising again, you know.’
‘I…’ Suwon swallows, staring at Sunghoon who is still too close, too intense. ‘I was afraid I might lose touch. I don’t want to forget the choreo…’
It had taken him a lot of practice to get down the moves of School Anthem and, especially, Pong Saeng Pom Sa. Suwon is afraid that if he goes even a few days without proper practice, his memory – both brain and muscle – may betray him.
‘I will. I just thought I’d practise a bit tonight. Tomorrow’s off, so I can sleep in a bit. I’ll practise again in the evening.’ The words come out choppy and rambling, but Suwon can’t help it; not with the way Sunghoon is looking at him now.
For the first time that night, Sunghoon looks surprised. Jaw slackening, he stares at Suwon almost disbelievingly.
Suwon doesn’t know how to reply to that and merely looks down, licking his lips. He is uncomfortably aware that he is still sweaty from dancing, his shirt sticking to his back where he is backed up against the mirrored wall.
The brush of fingers on his hips makes him jerk his head up, startled. He inhales sharply, eyes widening as he realises that Sunghoon is closer now, almost pressing against him.
Suwon opens his mouth and says Sunghoon’s name – or rather he means to but can’t. There is only silence as he freezes under Sunghoon’s eyes and touch, unable to look away from that dark gaze while his skin burns where Sunghoon is touching him over two layers of clothing.
They are almost the same height, Suwon realises, and the thought is abrupt and incongruous. If anything, Suwon is slightly taller and that surprises him; he feels like he’s been looking up to – and at – Sunghoon ever since they met.
The sharpening scent of Sunghoon’s cologne in his nostrils returns him to his senses, reminds him that he should be paying attention because – oh. Suwon can’t help his little gasp as he finds himself physically pushed up against the wall, Sunghoon’s hands heavy on his hips, his breath hot on his jaw and his heartbeat pounding against Suwon’s chest.
But that press of Sunghoon’s body flush against his is what finally snaps Suwon out of his daze. The entirety of his emotions in that instant – shock, disbelief and something else he’s never felt before – comes down on him like a suffocating wave and he scrambles simultaneously for escape and purchase.
His hands find Sunghoon’s shoulders, the only place he can grab at this proximity, and in his fluster, he half pushes and half pulls at them.
Suwon stares, breathing hard, at Sunghoon who is suddenly three feet away from him. Sunghoon’s eyes are wide, his pupils shaking, as are his hands now hanging limply by his sides. He balls his trembling fingers into fists.
‘I … I’m sorry, Suwon-ah,’ he breathes, looking down. His voice is layered with shock, like he cannot believe what he’s just done. ‘I … I never meant to – I shouldn’t have … I’m sorry.’
Sunghoon sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. Suwon thinks – or hopes? – that Sunghoon will say something along the lines of, ‘Forget it ever happened’, but he is surprised yet again when instead,
‘You should rest,’ Sunghoon adds and then turns away with finality. He doesn’t look back as he stiffly walks out of the practice room.
A hollow, ringing silence falls in the room. Several seconds pass before the tension seeps out of Suwon and, with a sharp exhale, he sags against the wall. He stays like that for a long time.
When he finally gathers himself and prepares to leave – the thought of practising now a distant whisper in the back of his head – Suwon takes a moment to look at himself in the mirrored wall. A confused-looking teenager gazes back, his hair cut short and his jaw square and his face not plain per se but nothing special in Suwon’s opinion.
He looks at his reflection and thinks about the Sunghoon he has come to know over the months – Sunghoon who sings with a voice that befits the name of their group, Sunghoon whose soul is as warm and lovely as he looks, Sunghoon who revealed his brilliant smile the first time all six of them completed the routine for School Anthem without a single mistake.
And then he thinks about the Sunghoon he first saw – Sunghoon who looked at Suwon with cool eyes that left him feeling stripped and bare, Sunghoon who saw some mysterious quality in Suwon that no one else sees, Sunghoon who decided that Suwon is worth something and that he wanted him.
He thinks about all the different curves and edges of Kang Sunghoon he has seen and tries to put them together, seeking some explanation for the new Sunghoon he just witnessed only minutes ago. He recalls the way Sunghoon looked at him, touched him, and is wondering where that Sunghoon came from when, out of nowhere, it strikes him –
Sunghoon, who gives more time to personally mentor Suwon’s singing than to any of the other members’ (without many agency-provided instructors on hand, Sunghoon is basically the trainer for everyone).
Sunghoon, who looks in on Jaeduk’s dance practices with Suwon and, more often than not, joins in (he doesn’t have to; he trains with Jaejin and is a better dancer than Suwon).
Sunghoon, who seeks Suwon out to comfort him after the younger receives a telling-off from their higher-ups or, in increasingly rare cases, Jiwon (the reassurances are unnecessary; he’s long since learnt that Suwon doesn’t take the harsh words to heart).
That Sunghoon – who speaks to Suwon with the intimacy of one who’s known him for years; who gives his undivided attention every time Suwon speaks; who smiles just a little brighter when he catches Suwon’s eye – has been there all along and Suwon has always, on some level, been aware.
But when the stress of training days took over, he’d carelessly brushed off Sunghoon’s attention as a natural coddling of the youngest who also happened to need the most help.
And now Suwon is left with the disquieting reality that they are not just good friends and compatible colleagues like he’d assumed – not to Sunghoon, anyway. Nor can he attain that familiar if erroneous level of comfort with the other boy again.
As he leaves the room, Suwon can’t help but look back at the wall again. The memory of the look on Sunghoons’ face as he pushed Suwon up against it sends a small shiver down his spine. It hadn’t even occurred to him to ask why Sunghoon had come to the agency in the first place.
For a moment, he dares to wonder if Sunghoon would seek him out in a similar manner again. The very idea assaults him with feelings Suwon cannot get his head around and he quickly heads home, trying not to think about the future.
Later, he will find out that that particular worry is pointless. Sunghoon will not put him in any kind of physically compromising situation again anytime soon.
Practising Jiyong’s lines for their comeback performances feels unsettling, Suwon finds. He wonders if that’s why Sunghoon refused to take on any himself, giving most of them to Suwon instead.
It’s an issue they’ve been skirting around for a long time. All five of them had nursed a tentative spark of hope that Jiyong would return to complete their group. That spark had ignited into a small flame when the production team of Infinity Challenge succeeded in tracking him down at last.
They started out together after all. They are a team of six. Sechskies. The thought of restarting differently doesn’t feel right.
However, deep down, Suwon – and, he suspects, the others too – has always known that that hope cannot be.
He understands, though. They all do. Jiyong has a family now, first and foremost, and a company he has worked hard for. He has spent sixteen years walking down a new path that he’s laid down painstakingly; it’s not something that can be given up to return to an old life.
Underneath it all is the unspoken fact that no one wants to go back to something they were desperate to leave. It is one topic they take care not to discuss in public, but it is the elephant in the room – Jiyong had wanted out from the industry.
They’d known about it even before their disbandment and respected it ever since. And so they quietly set about dividing Jiyong’s lines among themselves, at first for the convenience of holding smoother practice sessions, but then for real when Jiyong confirms with the Infinity Challenge team that he’s not returning to K-pop. They see it coming and they exchange bittersweet smiles among themselves when the cameras are off.
But Suwon is surprised and admittedly a bit pressured when Sunghoon, who’s taken charge of their singing parts, suggests that he fill in for nearly all of Jiyong’s lines.
‘Why’d you do that?’ he asks Sunghoon during a short break in their rehearsal. He keeps his voice low so that the other members won’t overhear him from where they’re discussing the set list for their comeback guerilla concert.
Sunghoon is resting on one of the folding chairs near the stereo system. He raises his eyebrows. ‘Why what?’
Sighing, Suwon settles down on the chair next to him. ‘Why are you giving most of Jiyong’s lines to me?’
‘That’s not what I’m saying…’ He frowns, trying to think of a diplomatic way to phrase his thoughts. He doesn’t want to sound like he’s complaining. ‘I think Jiwon hyung would do a good job; he has a really nice singing voice. Jaejin and Jaeduk hyung wouldn’t be bad, either.’
‘And you?’ Sunghoon asks, crocking an eyebrow. He leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. ‘Are you saying you’d do a bad job? You’re a vocal.’
Suwon tries not to show frustration on his face. ‘So, why me? Why not the hyungs? Why not you? You’re the main.’
‘I didn’t think you’d complain about getting Jiyong’s lines,’ remarked Sunghoon, watching him with sharp eyes.
Suwon leans back, spreading his legs out in front of him. Trying to convey his thoughts in a roundabout way is not really working out. Though, in truth, he’s never been that good at beating around the bush.
A short moment of silence follows his frank declaration, punctuated only by the voices of the hyungs who, on the other side of the room, are arguing the pros and cons of adding Reckless Love to their Infinity Challenge comeback. Suwon watches them detachedly.
The rejoinder is heated and sharp, uttered in that low voice Sunghoon uses when he’s vehement about something.
Before Suwon can reply or even turn back to him, Sunghoon continues, ‘You mightn’t have been all that good when we started out, but you can sing. You’ve a nice voice. Don’t tell me you don’t know for yourself how much you improved since our debut?’
Suwon frowns up at the ceiling. ‘I wasn’t under the impression that I got that good while we were together.’
‘I’m not talking only about before our disbandment.’ A distinct note of irritation creeps into Sunghoon’s voice. ‘I’m talking about J-Walk. You were damn good while you were collaborating with Jaeduk hyung, and you know that.’
Suwon stills at the expression on Sunghoon’s face. It’s not quite anger, but there is something bitter in the blazing look in his eyes.
In that moment, Suwon recalls the conversation he overheard between Sunghoon and Jiwon in the practice room days ago – the one he’d tried not to think about whenever he and Sunghoon are in the same room – and he flushes down to his neck.
The look Sunghoon is giving him also brings back a sudden memory of a night that came a few years after Sechskies disbanded. The night Suwon and Jaeduk had memorably stood on stage with Sunghoon again as they shared an award. They had been a duo and he a solo but fans had still been ecstatic at the sight of half of Sechskies together again, if only for a minute.
Above all that, it was the first time Suwon met Sunghoon in person ever since their group quit, and he still remembers how Sunghoon had looked at them that night. He’d smiled brilliantly for the audience as they accepted their awards and later embraced Jaeduk and Suwon backstage. However, once the cameras and staff were finally out of their faces and Jaeduk momentarily gone, Suwon had seen the sadness in him. Sunghoon hadn’t tried to hide it when their eyes met; he’s never bothered with subtlety around Suwon.
Some of that sadness that night might have been for the Sechskies they once were. But that bitterness was solely for Suwon and Sunghoon himself. Of that Suwon was absolutely certain, especially when he remembered what had happened the night they disbanded. The whole situation had made him feel so out of his depth that Suwon had thought, as happy as he was to meet Sunghoon once more despite everything, it might be for the better if they didn’t see each other again.
The look Sunghoon is giving him now is the same but fiercer and Suwon falters under its weight. He’s known since their reunion that Sunghoon still has those feelings, and the conversation he overheard between Sunghoon and Jiwon only cemented that knowledge.
And yet, just like before, they’re at an impasse. There are times when they can just be great friends and colleagues; but then there are the times when Sunghoon’s unsubtle inclinations overshadow their friendship – though he still hasn’t come right out and actually said anything – which leaves Suwon with two options.
Because going with the first option ultimately comes down to either telling Sunghoon to wrap up his feelings and just stop, or … or to kiss Sunghoon and – kiss Sunghoon. Kiss Sunghoon every day until they’re both old and grey, holding wrinkled hands together, and even after that.
His throat closes up and he has to look away from Sunghoon’s piercing gaze. Twenty years ago, the old Suwon, if ever he had decided to address the issue, might have told Sunghoon that there was no chance of them ever happening. But the Suwon from the night they disbanded – the Suwon he is now – knows intimately well that the decision is not that clear-cut.
Sunghoon speaks his name then, his voice low and heavy, and Suwon tries not to think about rough fingers in his hair and warm lips against his own.
Suwon starts when Jiwon’s voice intrudes on his thoughts. The leader has wandered over and is standing over the two of them, wiping his face with a small towel. He appears cheerful but Suwon doesn’t think he is misreading the suspicion in the swift look Jiwon shoots between them.
‘Jiyong’s lines,’ Sunghoon answers smoothly. Suwon almost smiles at his familiar brazen way of breezing over Jiwon’s questions.
‘Ah yeah,’ Jiwon frowns slightly. ‘We suspected it’d turn out like this, but it’s still tough, huh.’ He turns expectantly to Suwon. ‘How’s it going with Jiyong’s parts?’
Suwon hesitates, now recalling the original topic of discussion that had brought him to Sunghoon (before his train of thought was utterly wrecked). Sunghoon looks expressionlessly at him.
‘I’ll fill in for Jiyong,’ Suwon says in a stronger voice, aware that he’s not really answering Jiwon’s question. He watches Sunghoon’s smile grow. ‘It’s not easy, but I’ll do my best.’
Jiwon lightly smacks him on the shoulder and mock-complains about his cryptic reply. Sunghoon just leans back in his seat again, looking pleased. Suwon just barely catches his softly spoken words,
They don’t speak much after that, lapsing into a silence that would be more comfortable if not for Jiwon choosing to sit down on the floor right between the two younger men. He casually waves away Sunghoon’s suggestion to bring another chair and Suwon’s offer of his own seat, but Suwon thinks he knows why Jiwon chose that particular spot.
Jiyong is the first to notice the tension between Sunghoon and Suwon. It only takes him a few months after their debut.
To Suwon’s knowledge, he is also the only member who’s noticed it. It will take twenty years for Suwon to find out that Jiwon hyung also comes to know, but perhaps being ignorant of that for now is a blessing. Because dealing with Jiyong catching on to the truth is stressful enough.
In retrospect, it’s not all that surprising that Jiyong finds out. If Suwon really thinks about it, it’s actually more surprising that the rest of the members don’t – because the thing with Sunghoon is that, while he’s not verbally explicit about his inclinations towards Suwon, he’s not exactly subtle about the whole thing either.
After that first incident in the practice room, Sunghoon doesn’t touch him inappropriately again. They never talk about what happened that night and, in public and during shoots, Sunghoon maintains a certain amount of distance with Suwon; close enough that it’s not awkward, but far enough that attention is never drawn solely to the two of them.
In private, Sunghoon strikes up the old familiarity and closeness that developed between them during their training. He smiles, he talks, he laughs and, at the best of times, it feels normal and natural and good that Suwon doesn’t feel any unease around him. Sunghoon is warm and comfortable to be with and Suwon feels warm and comfortable being with him.
But in private, out of the limelight and away from the eyes of strangers, there also come the times when Sunghoon unveils that part of him he carefully conceals from the public. The part that jolts Suwon out of his cocoon of comfort and reminds him that things aren’t that simple.
It may happen during a conversation, in the middle of dance rehearsal, inside the recording studio, while they’re eating, in the van riding back home after schedules, or even if they’re doing nothing at all. Suwon can’t anticipate it and Sunghoon never seems overly concerned about when or how he betrays himself.
Such as during conversations, when Sunghoon would archly make a comment at Suwon, seemingly innocuous but with a clear undertone that makes Suwon’s breath hitch. Or in the middle of dance rehearsals, when Sunghoon would unnecessarily join Suwon for extra practice with Jaeduk, smiling with quiet pride as Suwon improves or corrects a mistake. Inside the recording studio, when Sunghoon would catch Suwon’s eye as he sings sweet love songs into the microphone and boldly holds his gaze even as they both blush. While they’re eating, when Sunghoon’s eyes would dip to Suwon’s mouth and linger there, momentarily forgetting his food even as his ramen becomes soggy. Or in the van to and from schedules, when Suwon would doze off and Sunghoon guides his head to lie on his shoulder until the younger wakes up.
And sometimes, even if they’re doing nothing at all, Suwon would catch Sunghoon watching him, a tender curve to his lips and his eyes soft and infinitely fond.
So no, Sunghoon is not verbally forthright about his feelings, but he makes little other effort to hide them.
Which is why it shouldn’t be all that shocking when Jiyong finally lets Suwon know that he’s on to them. But Suwon nearly suffers a silent meltdown anyway. One part of him breaks down in fear – what will happen to him now? To Sunghoon? – while the other heaves a large mental sigh of relief; he no longer has to keep up his endless pretence of being oblivious to Sunghoon all the freaking time.
Jiyong is diplomatic in his approach. He hangs back with Suwon after practising the songs for their next album one day, grabbing the opportunity to ask, ‘Are things OK between you and Sunghoon?’
Jiyong comes closer then, lowering his voice though it’s just the two of them in the vocal training room. ‘You’ve noticed it too, right?’ He pauses, looking uncomfortable. ‘Sunghoonie – he … he doesn’t … he doesn’t look at you how … a normal friend would.’
‘Yes, I noticed,’ he breathes. ‘I know.’ He looks anxiously up at Jiyong. ‘Please don’t tell anyone else.’
‘- in primary school together,’ Suwon finishes with a faint smile. ‘You’ve only mentioned it sixty two times.’
‘Sorry.’ The amusement is momentary and Jiyong looks concerned again. ‘I was going to leave it alone since it’s none of my business, but, um, I’m worried.’
‘Because …’ Jiyong frowns, crossing his arms. ‘When I realised that Sunghoon likes you’ – He doesn’t notice how Suwon stills at hearing those words properly spoken for the first time – ‘I couldn’t help paying more attention and … I noticed that Sunghoon makes you … anxious.’
Suwon feels like laughing and crying at the same time. ‘Am I?’ he half chuckles, massaging the back of his neck.
‘I don’t know if it makes me anxious,’ he says slowly, ‘but I can’t ignore it.’ He waves an arm limply in the air. ‘It’s like I’m always … aware of it. Sunghoon.’
‘Not always,’ he admits at last. ‘You know Sunghoon; he’s nicer than most people. I meant it when I said we’re friends. He’s great to hang out with and I like his company…’
‘But … then he’d do some little thing and I just – I remember that I’m not,’ Suwon turns red, ‘… just a friend. Not to Sunghoon. And I pretend that I don’t notice but inside, I can’t ignore it. It’s always on my mind.’
Suwon doesn’t even have to think. ‘No!’ He blurts and he’s surprised to realise that he means it wholeheartedly. Despite the awkwardness that comes between them, Suwon doesn’t want to avoid Sunghoon.
Because Sunghoon is … There’s no real explanation. He’s a good person and a great friend and, when things are easy and simple, Suwon genuinely enjoys being with him.
‘I … think that’s a universal law that applies in friendships,’ Suwon says wryly, with a wan smile at his weak joke.
Jiyong doesn’t smile back. ‘If you’ve known about it all along,’ he says quietly, ‘why haven’t you said anything to him?’
‘You don’t know what you want?’ Jiyong says sharply. His expression softens immediately. ‘I … no. I’m sorry. It’s just I’m afraid you both might get hurt if this drags out. Sunghoon’s a very good friend of mine and now you’re too, and -‘
It’s the question that haunts him, in his waking hours when he sees Sunghoon’s unspoken desires, and in his dreams when he remembers Sunghoon’s touch. And it’s the question he can’t answer because both choices lead down roads he can’t handle – losing Sunghoon as his friend if he says no, or … being with Sunghoon, being with Sunghoon, in a relationship he can’t wrap his mind around.
‘Because nothing matches up right now,’ Jiyong explains. ‘Our situation, the timing – everything is wrong. We’ve debuted; we’re not private citizens anymore and we can’t damage our public image. And being Sechskies and with all the schedules we have, it’s all messed up. We don’t have time for ourselves anymore. I think that’s partly why Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. It’s not only him that’ll be affected if anything goes wrong…’
Huh. Suwon bites his lips, contemplating. He’s never thought of it that way. Caught up as he’s been with his awareness of Sunghoon, he hasn’t actually stopped to think about how outside factors may be what’s keeping Sunghoon silent.
He tries to imagine word getting out that two members of Sechskies are involved with each other; he tries to picture how the public would react. Goosebumps rise up his arms and he clenches his fists.
‘Obviously Sunghoon would hold back even more because of that. I mean, not only does he not know if you like him, he also doesn’t know if you could ever like him. You know?’
He hasn’t thought of that either. It’s never fully factored in that Kang Sunghoon, a guy, has feelings for him. For Suwon it’s always been just Sunghoon having feelings for him.
Jiyong hesitates, a visible struggle on his face. ‘Suwonnie …’ His tone is careful. ‘I know you’ve had a girlfriend before. But … you’re also saying you don’t know what you want with Sunghoon. Does that mean … you might like him? Possibly?’
In the cacophony of thoughts that go off in Suwon’s head, the answer to that question may have been there. But Suwon can’t grasp it and his voice shakes as he breathes, ‘I’ve no idea, Jiyongie. I like him as my friend. I just don’t know if …’
He can’t finish. He knows he’s not immune to the non-platonic part of Sunghoon; he’s aware that he grows nervous around him, that his heart quickens when Sunghoon gives him one of those loaded looks or that he blushes when Sunghoon makes nonchalant remarks that aren’t entirely innocent.
‘OK. I won’t ask any more.’ Jiyong unfolds his arms to wipe a hand through his hair. ‘It’s up to you guys in the end, but …’ He exhales loudly. ‘Well, who knows what’ll happen in the future? I just don’t want you to end up hurt. Either of you.’
Suwon doesn’t reply. He wants the same, but he can’t get rid of the thought that there is no guarantee that either of them will escape unscathed.
– Sechskies were first called Magma, before a producer saved them from that hell. But I didn’t bother adding that detail
– The award mentioned here, which Sunghoon won with J-Walk after Sechskies disbanded, was the 2002 SBS Gayo Daejeon Popularity Award
– I’m basing Jiyong’s personality on what little I’ve seen of him on Infinity Challenge and tumblr tidbits about his time in Sechskies. I don’t know much about him except that he was mature and a bit shy with a side of mischief in Sechskies ^_^ Also Suwon said in the old days that he’s closest to Sunghoon and Jiyong – much to Jiwon’s chagrin (“What, are you saying we’re not close then?!” XD). So that’s the basis I’m using to make up the rest XD.
The last few days before filming their comeback on Infinity Challenge whirl by in a blur of endless singing, dancing and nerves that feel almost worse than their debut. Amidst the chaos, Suwon practises Jiyong’s parts day and night by himself, trying to belt them out with the same confidence he feels for his own lines. It’s difficult and stressful but, at last, he nails it.
The first time he gets through their set list without a single mistake or missed cue, Jaeduk praises him loudly, Jaejin gives him a quiet thumbs-up, Jiwon looks like the proud grandpa he’ll never admit he is, and Sunghoon looks so satisfied that Suwon can’t hide his embarrassment.
His reddening face makes Sunghoon laugh. ‘And you were worried about filling in for Jiyong,’ he says teasingly as he approaches the younger man while the rest of the members and their staff prepare to leave for the day.
‘You shouldn’t be,’ says Sunghoon with conviction. ‘You don’t give yourself enough credit.’ When Suwon doesn’t respond, he adds, ‘I wish you would. I knew from the start you’d be able to do it.’
Sunghoon stares at him, inscrutable. The silence is a strange mix of familiarity and tension, and Suwon continues, just to break the quiet, ‘Sorry, did I sound like an audacious asshole just now?’
He expects Sunghoon to smile at the joke, but he doesn’t. A bit flustered, Suwon carries on, ‘I mean I get it. I’m not that competitive and Jiwon hyung’s never stopped nagging me about how I just can’t be bothered to care about things, especially when he drags me on variety shows with him, but I -‘
Sunghoon’s gaze is heavy and his voice soft and his last remark hits Suwon with the strangest feeling of déjà vu. It brings to mind images of harsh electric lights and mirrored walls, the distant blare of a stereo in an empty practice room, hot breath on his lips and a pounding heartbeat pressed against his own…
Suwon exhales at the memory. He stares at Sunghoon, aware that his face is colouring again, but Sunghoon says nothing else on the topic. When they resume rehearsals again the next day, Suwon keeps on practising the songs. He doesn’t stop even long after he’s memorised Jiyong’s parts enough to not even need cues.
Because Suwon is determined that everything from his side, for the stage that they’ve been preparing for so long, must and will be perfect.
When that long anticipated and dreaded day finally arrives, their comeback truly is, all things considered, as close to perfection as it possibly can be. They’re standing on stage as Sechskies again – a dream that once felt as distant as the stars – and … they’re not alone, they haven’t been abandoned. The bright sea of yellow that welcomes them is stunning and they’re overwhelmed by the sight they’d once thought they wouldn’t see again. They sing, they dance, and they cry and their fans – fans that have grown up like them, fans that have been waiting years to don the old yellow raincoats and wave yellow balloons again – sing and chant and cry too.
And at the very end, when their weeping audience is shocked by a smiling Ko Jiyong who joins them onstage for the final two performances, everything is perfect. It’s not forever, but it’s perfect and it’s enough.
To have one last night together as all six, to see Jiyong introduce himself as Sechskies with them, to provide closure to their faithful fans who all know this moment won’t last … it’s enough.
Suwon had been stunned and a little choked up himself when Jiyong shyly entered the Infinity Challenge filming scene earlier, surprising the members and their hosts right before the concert. The members’ happiness and astonishment at Jiyong’s last-minute arrival are matched only by the emotional response of their fans, whose voices reach a deafening crescendo as the last notes of Couple fade away.
When they gather together for the final bow and Jiwon flings his arm around Jiyong’s shoulders, crushing their long lost member to his side, Suwon looks around and tries to commit every detail to memory.
Which is why when it’s all over, the post-concert interview for Infinity Challenge done with and the cameras gone, Suwon has absolutely no room for shame when his tears finally fall in the privacy of their changing room.
He’s not the only one. Jaeduk drops into a chair and weeps into his hands while Jaejin strips out of his costume with his face hidden. Across from Suwon, Jiwon is brusquely wiping away every tear that dares to fall as he wrestles with his strange arm gauntlets. Sunghoon just braces his palms on a vanity table, staring at his reflection with red eyes.
It is a delicate moment, charged with overflowing emotion and yet soft around the edges with a warm tranquillity.
The moment ends when Jiyong, with a soft knock, opens the door. Quite a lot of the awkwardness between them has dissipated since the concert and interview, but now he hesitates on the threshold, his smile tentative.
Before Jiyong can even open his mouth, Jiwon says, ‘Just come in, you,’ and pulls him inside by the wrist. He does it so naturally, like there isn’t a void spanning sixteen years of no contact between them, that Suwon feels a little punch drunk at the sight of it.
The icebreaker works, prompting laughter out of everyone while Jiyong grins, his cheeks flushing red.
‘It’s just his suit, hyung,’ Suwon quips, unable to resist the chance to tease his old friend. He blames Jiwon’s influence. ‘Put him in size-forty hip-hop pants and he’d look as horrible as us. Not even being the visual could’ve saved him from the horror of the nineties’.’
‘Thanks, Suwon-ah,’ Jiyong finally speaks, eyes crinkled in a smile. ‘I see you still haven’t lost that tongue of yours.’
‘Well, what can you expect,’ adds Jiwon with a huff. ‘Speaking shit about everyone is his one God-given talent.’
‘So you can’t begrudge me for flaunting my one talent,’ Suwon chuckles. He quickly leans back in his chair when Jiwon pretends to smack him.
‘Oh, there’s more to Suwon than that,’ Sunghoon speaks up, ‘but Jaejin hyung’s been giving him a serious run for his money lately.’ Smiling, he nods his head towards Jaejin, who is wrestling to pull on a tee shirt.
At being addressed, Jaejin pauses and gives an awkward wave to Jiyong with one arm stuck halfway through a sleeve. ‘Hello, Jiyongie.’
‘Hello, Jaejin hyung,’ Jiyong returns with an amused smile, but his voice is drowned out by Jiwon yelling at Jaejin, ‘Man, what, you hadn’t greeted Jiyong still? Get with the times, idiot!’
‘I hugged him on stage. At the end.’ Jaejin says with a shrug, finally succeeding in pulling on the shirt.
Jiyong starts to laugh then, low but genuine. ‘Nothing’s really changed, has it,’ he comments, mostly to Suwon and Sunghoon since their hyungs are hurtling down their new spiral of what constitutes as a greeting in the Persian Gulf.
‘You haven’t changed much, either,’ says Sunghoon to Jiyong, approaching the two younger men to be heard over the squabble of the older members (‘Kissing is also considered a greeting in some countries, why don’t you go and smooch Jiyongie, huh?’)
Jiyong raises his eyebrows at the remark, lips twitching. ‘I think I should be saying that to you, Sunghoon-ah?’
Sunghoon laughs, throwing his head back. ‘Now where have I heard that before?’ he muses, throwing a fond smile at Suwon.
Suwon shrugs nonchalantly. ‘Well, it’s true. At least Jiyongie and I have the decency to look our age.’
‘Not true. He just called you indecent,’ Jiyong tells Sunghoon in a mock-serious voice, which takes Suwon by mild surprise. It reminds him, more strongly than ever, of times bygone when they’d all gather and have japing conversations like these.
Sunghoon gives a loud, dramatic sigh. ‘Yeah. Clearly I’m not an exception to Suwon’s shit-talking either. And here I thought I was special.’
‘Lies. You once said on a show that me and Jiyong are the members you’re close with,’ Sunghoon counters, grinning broadly. ‘So, according to you, I count as one of your favourites.’
‘Oh, I think I remember that,’ Jiyong chuckles. ‘Wasn’t Jiwon hyung sitting right next to Suwonnie when he said that? He started whining at Suwon right then and there.’
‘As if Jang Suwon would ever care if his leader threw a tantrum on camera.’ Sunghoon spares an amused glance at Jiwon who is still debating heatedly with Jaejin and Jaeduk.
‘You know me, I can’t be bothered,’ Suwon replies lazily, crossing his arms. ‘Not my fault if people can’t handle me speaking the truth.’
Sunghoon gives him a calculating look at that while Jiyong stifles what sounds like a snort. ‘You’re closer with Jiwon hyung than before though,’ the former points out.
‘So your truth has changed over time,’ Sunghoon states, smirking in that oddly sweet way only he can pull off.
Suwon can practically feel Jiyong’s amusement wash over him at the sudden turn of tables. ‘I … yeah, I guess,’ Suwon ventures cautiously.
‘So what’s the truth now? Am I no longer a favourite?’ Sunghoon pulls on a pout, his eyes twinkling. ‘Is that why you talk shit about me now?’
‘The horrible, ugly, naked truth is … I grew close with all the hyungs in time, and so both of you dear same-age once-special friends of mine became obsolete.’
Suwon bursts out laughing. ‘I think that’s Jaejin hyung, though. Unlike him, I actually have a working filter.’
‘Not as much as you’d hope.’ Suwon grins playfully at Jiyong. His smile fades a bit when he sees that Jiyong suddenly looks uneasy, his eyebrows furrowed.
‘Don’t I always -‘ Suwon stops talking, abruptly catching on to the situation. It dawns on him that he, in his enjoyment of their nostalgic snarking, has taken his comebacks at Sunghoon down the wrong road without giving a damn thought to what he’s actually saying.
He turns to Sunghoon and immediately wishes he could rewind their conversation. Sunghoon is still wearing a smile, but it is weary and strained around the edges; he meets Suwon’s eyes briefly before he straightens, looking nonchalantly round at their older members whose argument finally seems to be winding down.
Suwon sits rigidly, feeling guilt and reproach eating away at his insides. He’s hit below the belt, he knows. “True indecency is leading people on by pretending to like them when you don’t”? He wants to punch himself in the face.
He had said that – and the rest – in jest. Sunghoon must know that. Suwon is sure that Sunghoon knows that … but he also knows – should’ve known – that, whether a joke or not, a tactless comment like that from him would’ve cut Sunghoon deep.
He feels stupid and wretched, and he wishes … he wishes for quite a lot of things. He wishes he could take those words back. He wishes he knew what to say to make things right. He wishes they could return to being friends, true and proper.
A thought parallel to that also wishes that Sunghoon would lose that dullness in his eyes and look at Suwon again, smiling.
And somewhere deep inside, in a dark guilty part of him, there is a hushed whisper that wishes that he were blind … blind to Sunghoon and everything he wants from Suwon. Wants but never says.
‘So have you decided? About how they greet people in other countries?’ Sunghoon is saying suddenly and Suwon looks up to see that Jiwon, Jaejin and Jaeduk are finally gathered by the younger three.
‘The only conclusion is that Lee Jaejin is not from this world and it’s pointless to attempt to communicate with him,’ Jiwon grunts, coming round to perch on the arm of Suwon’s chair.
‘Hyung is just upset because I made him Google it and he found out I was right about -‘ Jaejin begins but is cut off by their leader.
‘Half-right! There was more to it on the website, but guess what, it doesn’t even matter because Lee Jaejin might be an alien but we’re Koreans here and we do Korean greetings -‘
‘Just ignore it,’ Jaeduk sighs. ‘I regret getting involved. Also, sorry about that, Jiyong-ah. We meant to properly catch up with you, but…’
‘I bet,’ Jiwon snorts. ‘You guys were having a ball, too. The three members of WhiteKies together at last, eh.’ He grins in turn at Sunghoon, Suwon and Jiyong.
Jiwon promptly smacks him on the head, growling ‘Punk’ under his breath. Amidst the round of laughter it elicits, Suwon can feel the atmosphere in the room returning to normal. Sunghoon is cheerful again and Jiyong looks at ease; for now, things are alright again. So Suwon smiles too, and settles into the easy banter and conversation that come as they enjoy, for that night at least, the joy and nostalgia of being six once more.
As time ticks away unbeknownst to them, they talk about their comeback guerrilla stage and the fans they’d been terrified to hope would actually show up, finally putting into words the emotions they couldn’t articulate on stage. They ask after Jiyong and where his new life has led him, giggling and exclaiming over pictures of his son and wife. And they speak of future plans and dream more dreams until a staff member finally shows up and tells them, almost pleading, that they really have to leave the changing room now.
As they exit the venue, five in casual clothes and one in a suit, Suwon doesn’t feel like they’re just Sechskies again, but the group of friends they used to be, years and years ago.
It won’t be the same as before, Suwon knows, but it’s still good. Phone numbers are exchanged, and it’s a relief to see Jiyong’s name in the online chat group they create for the six of them. A group just for friends, not for work. It’s nice.
They start talking with Jiyong mostly in the group itself, keeping things impersonal by involving all the members. They’re all busy, the five of them with Sechskies’ activities and Jiyong with his own work. But they still find moments to have little conversations here and there, keeping each other posted on big things and little things, with the occasional cat video and pictures of food flooding the chat.
It’s not that long before it becomes comfortable to talk one-on-one with Jiyong again, outside of the group chat. For Suwon it’s only occasional, but he and Jiyong exchange light-hearted messages, getting back into the groove of their old friendship. It’s familiar and new at the same time.
Suwon doesn’t know what Jiyong talks about with other members privately – if any of them do talk to him outside of the group chat, that is – but now and then, he asks Suwon about the members. Curious and thoughtful questions about what they’re like now, the things that have changed, what hasn’t changed…
Suwon can understand the inquisitiveness. He also figures that Jiyong is comfortable asking him since they’re the closest in age, on top of their old closeness.
Their talks are surprisingly easy despite the long years of no contact. Jiyong’s questions and comments aren’t overly personal and Suwon enjoys their chats until, a few weeks after their Infinity Challenge comeback is broadcasted, Jiyong breaches a subject Suwon is not expecting.
Suwon blinks at his phone screen, his drowsy mind suddenly alert. Before he can reply, Jiyong sends another message,
Suwon doesn’t reply for a minute. He remembers, vividly, Sunghoon’s reaction when Suwon had unthinkingly taken his banter too far.
Suwon hovers his thumbs over his phone’s touch screen. He’s torn and doesn’t know how to explain it to Jiyong; that he wants to apologise for hurting Sunghoon, but doing so would mean admitting that he’s aware of Sunghoon’s enduring feelings.
Suwon regrets his response the moment he presses send. He braces himself for Jiyong’s reply, but it still knocks the breath out of him, setting his pulse racing in the darkness of his room as he reads,
When he will later think back on those days, Suwon won’t be able to comprehend how they were able to hold on for even that long. Even now at just twenty, he feels like he’s been living like a dead man walking and he doesn’t remember what being rested and healthy feel like anymore. Looking at the other members, he sees the same thing.
They’ve been wrung beyond what they can give, by people who don’t really care as long as cash keeps flowing in. It’s the breaking point now. It’s a terrible reality to face, but it’s unavoidable.
Jiyong is the first to burn out. As the harsh reality of agency-powered idol life drowns them, he admits at last that it’s not an industry he wants to pursue. The other members fall too, one by one, but it’s different for each. Jiwon is a natural in entertainment, dance flows through the veins of Jaejin and Jaeduk, Sunghoon was born to sing, and as for Suwon, he’s grown attached to what he’s practised and trained himself over the past few years for. Their hearts still lean toward this field, but they cannot survive their suffocating contract anymore.
Something irreplaceable shatters in the moment they reach that decision, the moment they make the official announcement, the moment the ending notes of “Remember Me” fade away, marking their very last performance together. The heartbreak is boundless and tears immeasurable and, as they take their final bow to their weeping fans after the farewells, it sinks in then that this is it. This is the end.
They are numb when they gather together to say goodbye after the Dream Concert, out of stage costumes and back in their own clothes which feel alien and foreign against their skin. The atmosphere is weighed down with things unsaid and feelings unexpressed, but words are insufficient now. In the long drawn-out silence, they simply embrace each other, mumbling half-coherent nothings into each other’s shoulders and hair.
There are no inhibitions in those moments. Jaejin is the first to grab Suwon in a crushing hug, his previous regard for personal space all but gone. Suwon clings back just as tightly and then goes to each and every one of the rest. He rubs Jaeduk’s back comfortingly as he cries into Suwon’s neck before turning to embrace Jiyong, promptly butting his forehead on the other’s nose because Jiyong is a freaking giraffe. They gasp out weak chuckles before letting go and then it’s Jiwon’s arms around him this time. The leader’s face is pressed against the side of his own, and Suwon fancies Jiwon brushes a kiss, and maybe a teardrop, somewhere around his jawline but he isn’t sure.
Sunghoon is the last to meet his eyes, mute in his sorrow. For once, there isn’t a single fibre in Suwon that hesitates; he steps easily into Sunghoon’s arms, firm yet somehow fragile as they wrap around him. He puts his own around Sunghoon’s shoulders and leans against him, breathing in that faint musky scent Sunghoon wears. They haven’t touched like this since … in a very long time. But it’s comforting and familiar in its intimacy, and Suwon doesn’t want to pull away right now.
‘We shouldn’t go to our homes tonight,’ Jiwon’s voice drags him back. The leader is speaking quietly, one last piece of advice before they part ways. ‘It’ll be a mess. All the fans…’ He trails off but they know what he’s getting at.
An unspoken question hangs in the air whether they should go into hiding together for that night, at least until the chaos of their disbandment simmer down outside. No one voices it out loud, though. The temptation is great but Suwon holds himself in check.
It’s not just that they’d be in greater danger of being recognised if they’re together. It’s the fact that they’re over now; from the moment they took their last bow.
Hats pulled low over their eyes or coat lapels turned up around the lower halves of their faces, they set off on their solitary routes. Suwon doesn’t ask where the rest of the members are going; it’s past midnight and he doesn’t know where to go himself. The only sure thing is that they can’t go home tonight. Suwon can’t even imagine attempting to handle the throngs of hysterical fans that would be waiting in front of his apartment; he’d be alone and –
With every step he takes, the staggering truth sinks in even deeper until it is like a weight pressing down on his very soul. Every breath stings and his vision turns blurry with burning tears, but Suwon just picks up his pace, pulling his denim jacket closer around him.
Around him, the world is transitioning from Spring to Summer but he feels cold. He is alone and doesn’t know where he’s going and he doesn’t care.
That voice is the last thing he expects to hear and Suwon pulls up short, his sneakers skidding on the pavement.
‘Suwon.’ In the seconds he remains frozen, the voice moves closer, now speaking directly from behind him. Suwon shivers when its source comes round to stand in front of him, his heart screaming with both gladness and distress.
Suwon shrugs, looking down to hide his wet eyes. ‘Don’t know. Nowhere.’ Just like his life right now.
Suwon says nothing, waiting for Sunghoon to explain why he chose to follow him then. He would think Sunghoon would’ve gone with Jiwon or Jiyong instead.
Sunghoon’s eyes are shadowed, his eyebrows lost under the beanie he’s wearing to hide his dyed hair. ‘I didn’t feel like being alone tonight.’
Suwon feels like it, though. But when Sunghoon says, almost in a whisper, ‘Can I come with you?’, he doesn’t have the heart to refuse him. He starts walking again and Sunghoon falls into step with him.
Not a word is exchanged as they traipse aimlessly along the emptier side lanes of Seoul, avoiding the main roads and any people that happen to come their way. There’s a soft wind blowing, cool but with the promise of oncoming summer heat, and the waning moon making its slow march across the sky is large but dull behind thin clouds.
He suspects the situation is anything but in the populous areas of Seoul. Despite the hour, Suwon has a gut feeling that things must be going to hell in the city following their … disbandment. The word is still foreign and it makes him flinch. But right now, he’s away from all that and he wants to avoid the mess for as long as possible.
It’s quieter on the side streets; there’s hardly anyone else around now, but the silence is not easy either. The shared sadness between him and Sunghoon is nearly palpable in its abundance, but there are no words to alleviate it. So he keeps his mouth shut and they just walk, sticking close but with an invisible wall between them.
Hours must pass as they trail through the lesser tracked roads of the suburbs, but Suwon doesn’t keep track of time and his feet don’t tire. He becomes aware only much later that, at some unknown point, Sunghoon has taken the lead in their wandering. He lets him, following half a step behind as they tread on for ages, finally emerging from the suburbs on to the Han River.
Suwon becomes aware of his surroundings several minutes after they’ve been walking along the riverfront. He blinks around in mild surprise, not prepared to face people yet, but he realises that Sunghoon is leading them along the more secluded areas of the river. There are more trees here and narrower cycling lanes. This early in the morning, there’s not a soul in sight here.
Sunghoon finally ends their meandering walk at an empty bench, half hidden between two trees. Without a second thought, Suwon joins him on it and they gaze, with distant eyes, at the black waters of Han River; it glimmers and shines under the lights of the Seoul skyline.
The wind is cooler here and the sky doesn’t seem so dark anymore. Suwon glances at his watch and is shocked to realise just how much time has passed.
‘It’ll be sunrise soon,’ he murmurs, and is startled himself at how loud his voice sounds after a night of silence. With the words also come awareness of the ache in his legs and just how exhausted he really is.
Home. Suwon picks at the hem of his denim jacket. He can’t place that word anymore. They’ve never lived together as Sechskies, but Suwon suddenly can’t call his little apartment home anymore. It’s waiting for him, but that place is empty and lonely; it doesn’t welcome him like his parents’ house does … or any room with Jiwon, Jaejin, Jaeduk, Sunghoon and Jiyong. He wonders if it has ever really been home.
They watch the sky lighten, shade by shade, until the first tinges of pink emerge in the east. The chirping of crickets fade away, almost unnoticeable, replaced by the songs of birds. The Han River doesn’t look black anymore.
Suwon gets to his feet at last, every muscle in his legs protesting. He exhales loudly, dropping his head back for one last glance up at the sky. This is it, then.
He turns to Sunghoon, not really knowing what to say. Sunghoon’s eyes gazing up at him are dull and unreadable. Suwon misses his smile.
Good bye? See you around? None of it feels right. He doesn’t even know if he will meet Sunghoon again and the thought feels like a gut punch.
‘Take care,’ he gives a strained smile. There is a flicker of something on Sunghoon’s face but Suwon can’t bear to hang around any longer, delaying the inevitable. He quickly heads back towards the narrow riverfront lane.
He is caught before he’s even left the cover of the trees. Strong fingers around his elbow whip him round, making him almost stumble, and Suwon gapes at Sunghoon who is stammering his name, his voice shaking.
And Suwon stills, speechless, as he realises he’s seeing Sunghoon as he has never shown himself before. Every little thing he’s ever felt for Suwon is now laid bare, exposed and vulnerable. Even during his most unsubtle episodes, Sunghoon has never looked at him with that much longing and desperation before. It takes the breath right out of Suwon and he feels light-headed, frozen under the intensity of Sunghoon’s gaze. He’s burning with every unspoken desire and feeling he’s harboured for Suwon since they met in that small audition room and Suwon can see them, feel them, as if they were his own.
Sunghoon parts his lips and steps forward, but for a split second – an eternity – he hesitates. And in that second, it strikes Suwon all over again how stunning Sunghoon is. He always has been, but years of seeing him daily has lessened the impact of it. But now, it’s all Suwon can focus on.
Even with tired eyebags and downturned mouth, his dark eyes hooded and his pale skin grey in the light of dawn, Kang Sunghoon is still the most alluring thing Suwon’s seen. His heart skips a beat.
His hand is around the back of Suwon’s neck before the younger can blink, knocking over the baseball cap Suwon is wearing to hide his bleached hair. And then Sunghoon is pulling him forward, his lips parting to meet Suwon’s in a searing kiss.
Suwon gasps, his breath catching in his throat, but it’s all lost in Sunghoon’s mouth. His hand at Suwon’s elbow comes around his waist, crushing Suwon against Sunghoon, while his other hand winds up through Suwon’s hair. His fingers are rough, tugging at Suwon’s locks, but his lips are warm and soft as Sunghoon kisses him, hot and impassioned.
It is by no means Suwon’s first kiss, but he has never been kissed like this before. Sunghoon kisses him like a man starved, moving their mouths together with wanton need. He can’t seem to take his hands off Suwon, dragging them up and down his back, carressing over his neck and down his arms, but always keeping him within Sunghoon’s embrace. He cards his fingers through Suwon’s hair again, guiding his head back to mouth at his lower lip; he slows down for a moment, sucking and tugging with his teeth lightly before he suddenly bites down. Suwon gasps at the sensation, involuntarily parting his lips, and that’s all the invitation Sunghoon needs to immediately deepen the kiss.
He grasps Sunghoon’s shoulders to ground himself as Sunghoon licks into his mouth, kissing him even harder if that were possible. He barely realises it when he starts to kiss Sunghoon back, cupping his face with a hand before reaching up and pulling off his beanie to touch his hair. Sunghoon groans against his mouth, a sound that shoots a jolt of arousal through Suwon, and nips at his lips again. He presses Suwon even closer so that they’re flush against each other, their heartbeats wild and pounding.
It reminds Suwon of the first time Sunghoon touched him like this, of the emotions he’d seen in Sunghoon’s eyes then. But he now realises that that was a watered down version of what Sunghoon truly feels inside. Sunghoon is pouring out everything here now; years and years of repressed desires and longing that he’s putting into this kiss, and it’s unlike anything Suwon’s felt before that he can barely breathe.
Is this what Sunghoon had wanted to do in the practice room that night so long ago? Had his feelings been as fervent then as what he’s showing Suwon now?
And would Sunghoon have, Suwon can’t help but wonder, done this a long time ago already if only their situation had not held him back? If they hadn’t been celebrities, if they didn’t have to be careful about public images, if they didn’t have fame and consequences to worry about –
Suwon freezes, his mouth going slack, suddenly reminded of what they’re doing – what he’s doing – out here in public by the Han River.
Sunghoon, in his fervour, takes several seconds to realise that Suwon is not returning his kiss anymore. When he does, he pulls away with a suddenness that leaves Suwon shaken and wanting. His eyes dip to Sunghoon’s lips, reddened and inviting, and he wishes that Sunghoon kisses him again.
The thought is sudden and candid, a wish that’s never crossed his mind before. Suwon looks up at Sunghoon’s wide eyes and that’s when he knows, without a doubt, that if Sunghoon were to finally ask him, here and now … he would say yes.
But that new thought has barely formed when Suwon notices that things aren’t coming around. Sunghoon is still staring at him, his dark eyes wide. Confusion is written all over his face, but as the silence drags on, his expression crumples. He drops his gaze, his cheeks flaming red, and he massages the back of his neck, avoiding looking at Suwon.
Because … Suwon kissed him back and then he didn’t. He kissed him back – and then as good as rejected him without a word.
Suwon moves to step forward then, opening his mouth to explain, but Sunghoon speaks up, still looking at the ground.
Sunghoon glances at him then, still brimming with mortification but Suwon recognises the familiar longing in his eyes. Sunghoon doesn’t give him the chance, though.
Words unsaid follow that statement but then Sunghoon leaves, walking fast with his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. Suwon can only watch him go, dismayed. There’s a part of him urging him to go after Sunghoon, but the other part – his pride that is wounded – is listening to Sunghoon’s voice, echoing the word “mistake” over and over in his mind.
He watches Kang Sunghoon walk away and his heart wrenches as he thinks that this is how they end, before they even had a chance to truly begin.
A/N: Ho dang. This grew to be so long that I even put off another major scene I initially planned for this part to the next – and hopefully last – chapter.
I’m hoping it won’t turn out as monstrously long as this update XD And don’t worry, I’ll make these failures-at-communicating idjits get it together before the end ^_^;
*Special shout out to Helene for tolerating how much I whined at her on different social media platforms about My New Trash Fic, and was lovely and supportive and just generally too good too pure for this world. I hope you enjoyed these 14K words of bullshit I promised you, Hels XD*
The first time they met, Suwon took one look at Sunghoon’s eyes and knew he meant trouble. When they meet again twenty years later, Sunghoon looks at him with the same eyes and Suwon wishes he were blind – blind to Sunghoon and his feelings for which he has no answer.
Notes: I never thought I’d write fic for Sechskies but here we are and this is absolute trash. This is nothing but shameless, self-indulgent trash and I can’t even bring myself to feel sorry about it.
To anyone that might be here, reading this thing written for the near non-existent pairing of the maknaes – SungWon? SuHoon? WonHoon? I don’t think they even have a couple name! – I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless.
The segments of this fic alternate between the present Sechskies and the Sechskies before they disbanded. I’m not making much attempts at keeping the story in line with actual events, btw, so though this is set in canon, I’m still butchering their past as I please.
He does not mean it in the literal sense but in perception. He has always picked up on things quickly, discerns people’s feelings easily, and that is a less painful way to live because a life with fewer misunderstandings means a life less troubling.
But then he meets Sunghoon and Suwon kind of wishes that he was blind. Blind in perception because he picks up on Sunghoon’s feelings too easily, discerns his thoughts too quickly – and it is the most troubling thing he has ever faced and he does not know what to do.
The first time he sees Sunghoon is during his audition. The moment he meets his future group mate’s calculating eyes, he just knows that the other is meant to bring him trouble.
Two decades later, when they meet again for the first time in years, Sunghoon looks at him with the same eyes and Suwon realises that it is not only Sunghoon’s looks that remain unchanged.
The realisation sinks in, pressing like a weight down on his chest, and Suwon weakly wishes – just like he did twenty years ago – that he was blind.
They first meet as teenagers, but Sunghoon does not feel like one to Suwon. He looks like a teenager, all gangly body and awkward limbs still coming out of adolescence, but there is something mature and shrewd in his gaze as he stares at Suwon when the auditioner calls his name.
As he steps forward to the middle of the small audition room, Suwon thinks he should be paying more attention to the auditioner, who is sitting at the centre of the judges’ table and is obviously the in-charge. Yet he cannot help but be acutely aware of Sunghoon – whose name he will learn later – sitting to the left of the auditioner. He is dragging those sharp eyes of his up and down Suwon’s body, critical and almost invasive in his study, before finally settling on Suwon’s face.
Suwon does not know what that boy is looking for in him, but he knows none of the other judges at the table is making him as uncomfortable as the boy who looks as pretty – as dangerous – as a girl.
There are no questions as to what Suwon has prepared for his audition. The auditioner simply cuts right to the chase.
A part of him is a little stunned. He had expected they would specifically ask to see his singing or dancing skills. Not ask if he has any skills to begin with.
He feels a swell of satisfaction at the looks on their faces. He can see the questions forming behind their widening eyes – what is this nobody with no talent even doing at an audition? – as they try to hide their discomfiture. The truth is, even Suwon could not have answered them. There is nothing he is particularly good at, but he needs a dream, something to work for, and when DaeSung Enterprise announced their open auditions, he had thrown caution to the wind and sent in his application because what does he have to lose anyway?
At least he’s tried. And he did it with honesty. That’s it, he supposes. This is how his two minutes as an idol hopeful ends.
But then his eyes find the boy beside the auditioner, the boy whose presence seems to carry more weight than the rest of the judges combined, and Suwon is taken aback. The look in the boy’s eyes has changed. The coolness from before is now something warmer and more intense, something Suwon cannot define.
Without removing his heavy stare from Suwon, the boy tips his head closer to the auditioner’s in a gesture that looks almost casually authoritative. He murmurs a few words that Suwon cannot catch.
The auditioner looks surprised but he nods. He briefly thanks Suwon for coming to the audition and – throwing an uncertain glance at the boy to his left – adds that the company will contact Suwon in a few days.
As he bows and stammers his thanks, he sneaks a look at the boy and is immediately caught looking. The boy is still studying him, a slight twist to his lips and a strange gleam in his eyes. Almost like he is pleased.
In that moment, Suwon comprehends what the rest of the auditionees missed: the person who is truly in charge here.
Two weeks later, when he receives a phone call from Daesung Enterprise telling him that he has been picked as a trainee, Suwon already knows who pulled the strings on that decision. He just doesn’t know why.
Twenty years after their first meeting, Suwon finds that Sunghoon still has that same low-key authority that most people don’t notice about him.
Though it is Suwon and Jaeduk who make the first move to actively push for a Sechskies comeback, contacting all the members they can reach to put the plan in motion, it is ultimately Sunghoon that physically gathers them all together. He is the one who decides on a date for them to meet, makes arrangements and books a private room at some fancy restaurant, sends unnecessary (but secretly appreciated) reminders to everyone twenty-four hours before their get-together, and he is the first one on the scene.
Suwon is the second member to arrive and he is a bundle of frazzled nerves as the restaurant’s hostess escorts him to the room. He hesitates for a full minute outside the door, staring at the polished wood as he tries to picture the people on the other side.
Jiyong had gone completely off their radar, but Suwon has met Jaeduk and Jiwon, and seen Sunghoon (and rarely Jaejin) on television now and then over the years. And yet, he strangely cannot imagine what they must look like now. His mind only supplies images of what they used to look like fifteen years ago, before they disbanded.
Suwon freezes. For a moment, he thinks that he really must have stepped through some portal into the past. Sitting at the table directly across from him is Kang Sunghoon and he looks exactly like the boy Suwon remembers from nearly twenty years ago.
His name is a heavy thing that hangs in the air between them, weighed down by emotions saturating a voice that Suwon has not heard in so long. A voice that, too, has remain unchanged.
And then Sunghoon stands up from his seat and Suwon sees that, past his face and dyed blond hair, he is no longer the lanky youth Suwon parted with half a lifetime ago but very much a man. He still looks as good as Suwon remembers – better, in fact, with that perpetual youth and beauty of his – but the arms that wrap around Suwon in a hug are strong and the lean body pressing against him is all muscle. When Sunghoon pulls back to smile at him, Suwon notices the crow’s-feet at the corners of Sunghoon’s dark eyes and the squareness of his jaw – proof that time has, indeed, passed. Nearly sixteen years of it.
‘Suwon-ah…’ He has drawn away from the embrace, but his hands are still on Suwon’s hips as he continues to smile at him.
It is one of those smiles that earned Sunghoon the title of ‘Killer Smile’ back in their idol days. The smile that Suwon did not see during his audition, was in fact not privy to seeing until their group was complete and Sunghoon finally satisfied with the members he chose.
He feels a little derailed to have that smile aimed solely at him out of the blue. He has forgotten how disarming it can be.
‘You look good,’ Sunghoon tells him and Suwon almost laughs. The words are sincere, but they still sound like a lie coming from someone who looks like, well, like Sunghoon.
‘I should be the one saying that,’ Suwon replies, taking a small step back to dislodge Sunghoon’s hands from him. ‘How come you haven’t changed one bit?’
Suwon has to agree though he doesn’t admit it. Sunghoon still looks unfairly young; he could claim to be in his twenties and people unacquainted with him would believe it. But he has filled out and there is a different quality to his looks now. “Pretty” is no longer a word that suits him, Suwon thinks as he searches for a better description. “Cute” has always been Jaeduk hyung and “handsome” are Jiwon hyung and the Jiyong he remembers, but Sunghoon now is –
The closest adjective Suwon can think of is “beautiful”. Beautiful like Jaejin hyung but still different.
He realises too late that he has been staring at Sunghoon throughout his mental monologue and now Sunghoon is gazing back, bold and unflinching. His smile has dimmed to something more reserved, but the look in his eyes is more intense now. Feverish and aggressive in a way that has nothing to do with dislike.
Suwon knows that look. It is what had evolved from that first unnerving stare Sunghoon gave him during that audition so many years ago, a look Suwon has received countless times throughout the years they worked together.
He and Sunghoon are friends and colleagues above anything else, but he knows that Sunghoon had not always looked at him in that light. Suwon had been a friend and a colleague to Sunghoon but also something else – something left undefined in a dark place that never saw light.
Sunghoon parts his lips and moves as if to step closer to Suwon, his eyes roving hungrily over his face. But then the door opens again and Suwon has never been more relieved to see Lee Jaejin in his life.
Exhaling a breath he did not realise he was holding, Suwon breaks into a grin and greets his hyung, glad for the excuse to turn away from Sunghoon and whatever he had tried to say, to do. He is even gladder when Eun Jiwon and Kim Jaeduk appear on Jaejin’s heels and the atmosphere in the room becomes something he can finally breathe and feel comfortable in.
Because it turns out that Sunghoon in his mid-thirties is not all that different from who he had been at twenty, and to this day, Suwon does not know how to respond to either.
The first time Suwon meets Sunghoon as a member of Sechskies, he is surprised yet again. Because he remembers Sunghoon from his audition, but he hadn’t known until then that Sunghoon is actually part of the group. It is a reality slap he doesn’t see coming.
Still, Suwon is pretty good at controlling his expressions, so he pretends he does not recognise the pretty boy from his audition when he is introduced to the first two members of Sechskies.
Suwon introduces himself with a polite bow and recites all the social niceties, feeling more self-conscious than he thought he would. He tries not to stare too much, his gaze flitting alternatively between the pretty boy – who seems to be sizing Suwon up just like he did at the audition – and the fierce-looking guy next to him who has dark circles under his eyes and is, Suwon assumes, a manager sent by the agency.
He is a bit embarrassed when the second guy gives his own introduction in response, revealing himself to be Eun Jiwon, two years older than Suwon, and “the leader” – leader?! – of their group. Suwon can feel his face reddening and he hopes it does not betray his first impression of Eun Jiwon. He doubts that the leader – who is already assuming a hyung and sunbae tone of voice – would appreciate knowing that the rookie mistook his looks and age for the complete opposite of an idol group member.
Then the pretty boy from his audition introduces himself and that is when Suwon learns Kang Sunghoon’s name.
‘It’s nice to meet you,’ Suwon replies formally, glad that his voice is steady and that he did not accidentally say something completely nuts like why did you choose me or you’re prettier than most girls I know.
Sunghoon gives a small smile – not one of his killers – and says in response, ‘No need to be so formal. We’re “friends” so let’s just speak comfortably.’
‘We just met,’ Suwon blurts. It is true in a way, he thinks. His audition doesn’t really count as an official meeting.
The second guy – Jiwon – gives a bark of laughter, looking at Suwon like he finds him both funny and a total loser. Suwon feels his enthusiasm at being a part of Sechskies waning a bit.
‘No, I meant we’re friends as in we’re the same age,’ he explains, somehow driving his elbow into Jiwon’s side and making it look like a complete accident. ‘Oh! Sorry, hyung.’ He turns back to Suwon without even giving their winded leader the time to reply. ‘So you can drop formalities with me.’
Suwon blinks, abruptly realising that Sunghoon has just – unwittingly or not – revealed to Jiwon that he has met Suwon before. As an auditioner, he would’ve seen Suwon’s birthdate and other personal information on his application.
However, Sunghoon breezes over Jiwon’s question with a natural ease Suwon immediately envies, ‘Yeah. You were born in 80, right, Suwon?’
It’s still a little odd how easily he can say Suwon’s name so informally, considering they just got introduced to each other.
‘That’s what I just said, hyung,’ Sunghoon mutters dryly at the same time Suwon answers the leader, ‘Yes, I was born on July 16.’
‘Huh. Sunghoonie is February so you’re still the maknae,’ Jiwon remarks. He breaks into a sudden laugh and nudges his younger friend. ‘Congrats, Hoonie-yah. You can finally take a break from minion errands.’
‘You’re terrible,’ Sunghoon retorts without batting an eyelash while Suwon just watches them, feeling a little out of his depth. Jiwon winks at him and he’s not entirely sure if the leader is joking or not.
‘Welcome to minion life, Jang Suwon,’ Jiwon sticks his hand out and the gesture is both friendly and dominating.
Suwon takes it, murmuring a quiet, ‘Yes, hyung.’ He figures he may as well be mentally prepared for life under Eun Jiwon (who doesn’t seem too bad, but you never know). If the rest of the members they – or just Kang Sunghoon?- pick are older than Suwon, he will end up as the maknae anyway.
Then he finds Sunghoon suddenly taking his hand too, nudging Jiwon’s aside in the process. He is still smiling lightly but his voice is serious and gentle as he says, ‘Don’t worry too much, Suwon. Jiwon hyung will occasionally tell you to do ridiculous things as the maknae – he made me wash his underwear a couple of times when we were living in Hawaii – but he’s not too bad once you get to know him.’
‘He acts all tough but he’s a sweetheart,’ Sunghoon continues, somehow pulling off a smirk that almost looks sweet. ‘He’ll look after you. Or us, now, I suppose.’
‘Punk.’ Jiwon playfully smacks Sunghoon upside the head, making him drop Suwon’s hand. Turning to the youngest, he said, ‘Look, you work hard and do your part and we’ll get along just fine, a’right? You slack off, I won’t go easy on you.’
‘Don’t worry, hyung, you don’t have to tell me. I always give my all,’ replies Suwon evenly. He is starting to figure Eun Jiwon out and he thinks he has an idea how to remain on his good side.
A surprised laugh escapes Sunghoon while Jiwon blinks owlishly at Suwon, clearly not having expected such a response from the new guy.
Jiwon peers at him for a long moment – Suwon wonders if he is deciding on whether to be angry or not – before he says flatly, ‘Alright. I’ll let you off for now. We’ll see how the training goes.’
‘But you’re in charge of making the ramen,’ Jiwon adds suddenly, crossing his arms with child-like stubbornness. ‘As the maknae, you should do at least that much for your hyungs, right?’
Suwon’s lips curl up in amusement despite himself. He is beginning to see why Sunghoon, who has clearly known Jiwon for a while, appears to be both fond of and exasperated by him.
As Jiwon immediately rounds on his friend, Suwon finds himself chuckling. He is finally beginning to feel at ease, the tension draining from his body as he muses that this first meeting is not so bad. Neither are his new colleagues, it seems.
Sunghoon echoes his thoughts, speaking over Jiwon’s grumbling, ‘I think we’ll get on well enough. We start training immediately. You ready?’
Suwon nods with another amused glance at Jiwon who looks like he is hiding a pout. The leader mutters something about going down to the practice room since they cannot be any more introduced than they already are, and begins to head for the door, leading the way. Suwon automatically waits for Sunghoon to move, intending to follow, but Sunghoon waits for Suwon to walk with him.
As they leave the room, Sunghoon leans closer to his side and says in a low voice without looking at him, ‘You need to put in extra effort into singing and dancing, Suwon. We have to bring you up to par.’
The unexpected words send a jolt through Suwon and he almost missteps, feeling like he has been jilted out of some fantasy realm back into reality. He abruptly remembers that he was picked – by Sunghoon, specifically – despite his lack of skills or any previous training.
Suwon almost stops right then and there to demand an explanation from Sunghoon, to demand what he had seen in some nobody – what he is looking for in that nobody. But Sunghoon slows down too and looks him square in the eyes. His expression is unreadable.
In that moment, Kang Sunghoon looks as alluring as he did the first time Suwon saw him and the questions stick in his throat.
As a teenager, Suwon had been a man of his word. Twenty years later, he is no different. With their huge comeback looming on the horizon, Suwon throws himself into singing and dancing with the same zeal and determination he had carried in his idol days. Those were the only weapons he had had back then; he had sharpened and honed them tirelessly during his training and even after debut so that people would think of Jang Suwon as a decent enough idol.
He will never be able to hit all the notes that Sunghoon can, but at least his singing is pleasant enough. He will never be able to rap like Jiwon either, but at least his voice is smooth enough. Nor will he ever be able to freestyle dance like Jaeduk and Jaejin, but he can at least pull off the moves if he practises enough.
Suwon will always be a person that is just “good enough”, he knows. Good enough to sing, dance, do variety … be an idol. The field of entertainment is not where his natural talent lies, but Suwon likes this field. He has survived here where hard work and determination have led him to this point, to being good enough. And that has made him realise that being “good enough” is good enough for him. He isn’t greedy for more, for something he cannot have.
So he practises, determined not to be fazed by the additional pains that come with age. On top of falling back into old dance routines and recalling lyrics that have blurred in their memories, all of them are struggling with one thing or another – Jiwon’s knees are paining him, Jaejin is dieting to lose weight, Jaeduk is not in his best condition, Sunghoon has a small injury in his foot – so Suwon refuses to complain and grits his teeth against the exhaustion.
But, despite the fact that they are no longer at the peak of their youth, they are aware of how lucky they are. Their comeback is on Infinity Challenge, the king of South Korean varieties, and that stroke of luck is far and beyond their wildest dreams. Suwon never counts his chickens before they hatch, but he cannot help but daydream of how much exposure and promotion the show will bring their comeback.
The blessing of all blessings – and this, they all know, goes a long way in securing their future good fortune – is being signed into YG Entertainment. It had taken Suwon days after their contract to fully absorb their situation; he still chuckles to himself, in gratitude and relief, every time he recalls their dismal circumstances in Daesung Entertainment/DSP Media nearly two decades ago compared to what they have now.
Even Jiwon is ecstatic about it, in that mildly annoying childish way of his. ‘Yah, Lee Jaejin,’ he pipes up during a break in one of their practice sessions halfway through filming Infinity Challenge, ‘you’re one lucky son of a gun, you know that?’
Jaejin looks round in puzzlement, pausing in the middle of practising Road Fighter by himself. ‘What do you mean, hyung?’
‘You got Yang freaking Hyunsuk as a brother-in-law,’ Jiwon snickers from where he is taking a breather against the mirrored wall of their practice room.
It’s a well-worn joke by now, but it still makes them all laugh while Jaejin shoots a frown without any real heat at their leader.
‘If you didn’t have a sister,’ Jiwon cuts across him with a shit-eating grin, ‘then I would’ve married you off to YG instead to get this deal.’
‘Oh, come on, with a face like yours, I’m sure it would’ve worked. Right? Right?’ Jiwon went on, nudging Suwon who is sitting next to him.
‘You’d make anyone a beautiful wife, Jaejin hyung,’ Suwon plays along, lips curling as Jaejin grimaces at him. Meanwhile, sitting crosslegged on the floor a few feet away, Jaeduk and Sunghoon are trying to suppress their laughter and doing a very poor job of it.
‘Please don’t talk about me and my brother-in-law like that in the same sentence,’ Jaejin retorts dryly, already returning to his dance. Before Jiwon can say anything else, he adds, ‘If you’re that thankful, let’s get back to practice, hyung. We don’t have much time left till our comeback and even turtles can jump higher than you right now in Pong Saeng Pom Sa.’
Jaeduk and Sunghoon give up all pretense of containing their amusement while Jiwon flushes red. He grabs his water bottle – shakes it once to make sure it’s not full – and then chucks it at Jaejin who misses it purely by chance as he twirls around, still doing his solo Road Fighter.
‘God, what happened to my Lee Jaejin?’ he laments dramatically, raising his face to the ceiling. ‘I swear he wasn’t this mouthy twenty years ago.’
‘He was always mouthy, hyung,’ Sunghoon speaks up with a chuckle. ‘Just off camera and out of your earshot.’
‘Besides, he has a point,’ Suwon cuts in. ‘You barely lift your heels off the ground when we do Pong Saeng Pom Sa.’
Suwon knows it himself, but he cannot help making another jab, ‘But they magically heal for Com’ Back, eh.’
He laughs apologetically when Jiwon smacks him on the shoulder. ‘Brat. The choreo is completely different and you know it.’
‘You’re both savage asses,’ Jiwon grouses, glowering from Suwon to Jaejin who is ignoring them in favour of dancing. ‘Hell, if Jaejin can’t find himself a woman before he turns grey, he should just marry Suwon. You both can be happy assholes together.’ When Jaejin doesn’t say anything, Jiwon adds loudly, ‘I’m taking your silence as a yes!’
Jaejin doesn’t look round but he replies this time, his voice as matter-of-fact as if he’s telling the time, ‘If Suwonnie is fine with it, why not.’
Jiwon snorts with laughter, a hint of surprise colouring his voice. Suwon just shakes his head and reaches for his water bottle, amused.
‘Ah, but then the J-Walk fans will be disappointed,’ says Jaeduk suddenly, giving Suwon a mock heartbroken look. ‘All those years of fanservice for nothing!’
‘Yah,’ Jiwon yanks Suwon’s water bottle out of his hand and throws it lightly at Jaeduk who quickly catches it. ‘You’re practically married to Tony Ahn of all people; you can’t have everyone, you greedy bastard.’
Jaeduk, in revenge, flings Suwon’s bottle at Jaejin who nimbly dodges it. It rolls away towards the opposite wall.
Suwon laughs again, leaning lazily against the leader and feeling happier than he’s been in years. He has missed this, he realises. Not just Sechskies together as an idol group, but … just them, as people. Working with them, talking with them, laughing with them – the long years had numbed down the feeling until he barely realised it himself, but he’s missed them. Even Jiyong whom they have yet to find.
‘At least leave my water bottle alone,’ he speaks up with a chuckle. ‘It’s innocent and I’m thirsty.’
Without missing a beat, Jaejin spins on his heel and begins to walk over to retrieve it. The sight sparks loud jeers from Jiwon while Jaeduk breaks down into a fit of giggles.
‘Already working hard to impress your future man, eh, Jaejinnie?’ Jiwon hollers after him, clapping Suwon on his knee. ‘You’re landing yourself a dutiful spouse there, our Suwonnie. I’m almost jealous.’
‘Come on, hyung, give him a brea-‘ Suwon stops when he finds a plastic bottle of water abruptly shoved in front of his nose.
He looks up to find Sunghoon standing over him, holding out the bottle. When Suwon meets his eyes, he gives a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t match his hard gaze.
‘Uh. Thanks,’ Suwon mutters as he accepts the offered bottle. Past Sunghoon, he can see Jaejin pausing in his approach uncertainly, passing Suwon’s bottle of water from one hand to the other.
Wordlessly, Sunghoon returns to his spot next to Jaeduk. Suwon watches him go, aware that something discreet has abruptly changed in the previously lighthearted atmosphere.
Sunghoon immediately tenses; Suwon sees it clear as day, sees the way Sunghoon avoids looking at Jiwon and Jaejin both, reaching for his handphone instead to pretend that he is unaffected.
But in that moment, it’s not Sunghoon’s reaction that holds Suwon’s attention. It’s Jiwon’s tone – those words … they had not been said in jest.
He turns to stare at the leader, hardly daring to believe what he’s just realised. He swallows. Jiwon’s face is emotionless and his eyes, fixed on Sunghoon, look almost cold. And then, under his breath that Suwon barely catches the words, he growls,
Suwon freezes, his heart in his mouth. He looks slowly from Jiwon to Sunghoon, his grip almost deathly on the plastic water bottle in his hands. Sunghoon continues to avoid looking their way while Jaeduk and Jaejin remain awkwardly on the sidelines, both of them now aware of something gone amiss but at a complete loss, judging from their expressions.
Jaeduk is immediately on his feet, looking relieved, followed by Sunghoon who has schooled his face to neutral. Suwon and Jiwon stand up slower, neither of them looking at each other, but Jiwon grips Suwon’s shoulder briefly before walking forward to take his place. During the rest of the rehearsal, none of them say anything about the conversation that took place earlier and, to Suwon’s relief, things seem finally back to normal when they call it a day a couple of hours later.
Suwon is on his way back to the practice room after showering to retrieve some things he left behind when he hears low voices. The door is ajar and he is about to push it open when he hears Jiwon’s voice and stops outside.
‘Does this look like a joke, hyung?’ Suwon’s eyes widen as he recognises Sunghoon’s voice; it is low and raspy, full of ire and frustration. He has never heard Sunghoon use that tone with Jiwon before. ‘Do you think I’d ever joke about something like this?’
‘That’s exactly the problem,’ Jiwon snaps. ‘That you’re not joking, that you’re actually doing this – what the hell is wrong with you?’
‘Yet you’re acting on it. What the hell was that today, huh? I make a few jokes with Jaejin and you act out like some jealous teenager!’
‘D’you have any idea how dangerous this is? What this would do to Sechskies if people found out? To the both of you?’ Before Sunghoon can reply, Jiwon barrels on, ‘I know I was lacking a lot as a leader, but I still tried my best to protect the members. Especially you and Jiyong and Suwon because you were the youngest -‘
‘- but how am I supposed to do that if you’re the one putting us in danger, huh? How do I protect? What do I protect?’
Jiwon finally bursts out, his voice like a gunshot, ‘Goddammit, Kang Sunghoon, I thought you were over this! It’s been sixteen years. Sixteen! I thought you finally got over him!’
Suwon inhales sharply, hardly daring to believe his ears. Inside the practice room, a long moment of silence follows Jiwon’s outburst.
‘You say you’re pissed, hyung? How do you think I feel? Everything that I did to forget him – it all became meaningless the moment I saw him walk into that restaurant on our reunion. You’re not even close to being as angry at me as I am at myself, Jiwon hyung. I’m pathetic.’
‘Well, I am. Because I should be over him. That time with him when I, when we … I thought he was finally out of my system after that night.’
Suwon clenches his fist when he notices that his fingers are trembling. Swallowing, he leans closer to the gap between the door and the frame, straining his ears and, at the same time, terrified to listen because he’s realised he knows exactly what Sunghoon is talking about.
‘Wait,’ Jiwon suddenly sounds extremely uncomfortable. ‘That night? Are you … hell, Sunghoon, what are you saying? Did you … do you mean to tell me … that you actually slept with him?’
There is a second of shocked silence during which Suwon almost chokes on thin air. And then Sunghoon gives a bark of mirthless laughter.
‘This isn’t funny,’ snaps Jiwon, still sounding worried and like the leader Suwon has witnessed only in their direst of times.
‘I’m not being funny, hyung,’ Sunghoon retorts. ‘But no, I’m not right, either. Sleeping with him would’ve solved nothing. Considering my lot in life, it probably would’ve only made me want him even more.’
Jiwon doesn’t say anything in reply for a long minute after that. Suwon licks his lips, his mind whirring as he tries to process everything he’s just heard. A part of his logical side is ringing warning bells, urging him to leave; he has eavesdropped long enough and there is every danger of being caught, either by the duo inside the room or anyone else that decides to come down here. But he remains rooted to the spot, his head angled towards the ajar door; something tells him that he should hear what’s coming next.
‘I understand how you feel. I’m trying, at least. But … I can’t ignore the risks. Do you get what I’m saying?’
Sunghoon sighs audibly. ‘I get it. Hyung, please, don’t worry about it too much. Like you said, I’m not a kid. I know the dangers. And I won’t let people find out.’
‘Hyung, I was dealing with this even way before we disbanded. I never did anything on camera or in public that could’ve exposed this. You know that.’
‘But,’ Jiwon’s voice hardens slightly. ‘You weren’t very careful today. Even Jaeduk and Jaejin realised something was up.’
‘Jiwon hyung.’ Sunghoon’s voice is as serious as Suwon has ever heard it. ‘I need a break from pretending sometimes. If I can’t do that in private, even just within the group, then I can’t keep pretending elsewhere. I’ll go insane.’
‘How does this affect Suwon?’ asks Jiwon. ‘I sympathise with you, Sunghoonie, but you can’t prioritise yourself here; you can’t push your own feelings onto Suwon. If you keep acting like this and it makes him uncomfortable -‘
‘The day he tells me so,’ Sunghoon interrupts flatly, ‘I’ll stop. It’ll be the end of it. Right then and there.’
‘But does that mean Suwon wants you, too?’ demands Jiwon fiercely and it’s a question that makes Suwon’s knees almost buckle. ‘Just because he didn’t tell you to get lost doesn’t necessarily mean he’s encouraging your feelings!’
‘Likely?’ Jiwon repeats slowly. ‘Sunghoon, please, for you own sake, get rid of wishful thinking. You’re hurting yourself.’
– After their comeback, it was revealed that Kang Sunghoon had personally picked each member of Sechskies (except Jiwon. Originally their agency wanted to make them both a singer-rapper duo but then decided on an idol group instead to overthrow H.O.T.. Sunghoon hated the idea, so they told him they’d let him choose the new members.)
– Kim Jaeduk currently lives with Tony Ahn of H.O.T. (They’ve become best bros and basically the target of ‘ambiguously gay couple’ comments on all variety shows. Also Jaejinis a savage calls Jaeduk a national traitor for being bffs with Tony since H.O.T and Sechskies’ were top rivals in the 90’s XD)
I have my doubts that anyone is reading this fic – I haven’t seen anyone ship Sunghoon/Suwon XD – but if you are, thank you for giving this trash a chance! Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated 😀