Chapter Text
Seoul, five years ago.
“After that, they said no one was going to sign our contracts. Out of nine people, only five remained. I was among those who left.”
“Were you sad?”
“At first, yeah. Then I realized there was nothing I could change.”
Matthew takes a sip of wine straight from the bottle: away from the city, overflowing with obligations and familiar faces, he feels free. Matthew feels like a sixteen-year-old kid again, one who had just debuted in a temporary group—and who didn't yet know that their debut would top every chart, and that within a few months they'd become the leaders of the new generation of k-pop. Time felt different back then.
It's almost ten p.m. The others had probably already gone to bed—after Gyuvin's announcement that he and Ricky plan to get married, no one dared to approach them anymore. Seobin hasn't left his room at all this whole time.
What once seemed impossible is now becoming part of reality. The group Next, which showed so much promise during their debut, just like Matthew's group, is now becoming... this. It's strange to witness.
Matthew can't imagine the same thing happening to his own group.
“I... grew up with them. Now I don't even know where they are.”
“Have you thought about getting everyone together?” Jiwoong asks. “Well... for one evening. You're probably not bound by contracts anymore.”
“The contracts aren't binding us, but time changes everything. We're strangers to each other now.” Matthew takes another sip of wine. “How many years has it been since our disbandment? Five? Six? We've all changed. Some left the industry altogether, some…”
Jiwoong raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “Some...?”
“Some just left. They live their lives, I mean. Popularity and the stigma of being a loser don't just go away, you know. You can succeed once, and then spend all your time trying to achieve the same result until you get tired of it. After that, you don't even feel like going back to the past.”
There's bitterness on Matthew's tongue, but he tries not to think about it. There's no point in clinging to those who didn't swear to be loyal to him until the very end. The end always comes sooner.
“I just got lucky to stay in the industry longer than everyone else. I don't know how much longer I'll last.”
“You don't want to go back... to the industry?”
Matthew thinks for a moment, and for a second he remembers the bright lights of the spotlights that shone on stage every time he appeared. The slight trembling in his body from nerves, the emptiness in his head that came over him during a performance. He liked being an idol.
“No. It destroys everything,” he remarks darkly. “You know that better than I do.”
Matthew finally pulls the wine bottle away from himself to pass it to Jiwoong. Their fingers touch for a couple of seconds—a gesture that no one would pay any attention to if it were someone else, if someone else were sitting next to Matthew. But Jiwoong continues to stay close, sharing alcohol with Matthew as if they were old, good friends and as if Matthew himself weren't trying to get rid of thoughts that shouldn't be there. This shouldn't affect him like this.
Matthew sits further back on the bed, near the headboard, and looks ahead again. “What are your own plans?”
Right after this question, Jiwoong takes two big gulps. “I'll try to become a trainer.” He stumbles over some words—the alcohol is definitely affecting him. “I'll get an education, maybe go into business or something like that.”
“The idol career doesn't appeal to you anymore, huh?” Matthew teases.
“It's more that I just realized it's not for me. It has many restrictions. Marriage, family, children... Idols can't afford that.”
“Are you planning to get married in the near future?” Matthew asks. He doesn't like being forbidden from doing anything, even though he himself is far from dreaming of getting married and becoming a perfect father someday.
“Most likely,” Jiwoong says. “But things are a little... complicated. I can't talk about it.”
Matthew raises an eyebrow. “Are things okay with you and Hyejin?”
“Yes. I can't give you any more details than that.” Jiwoong smiles politely and holds the wine bottle out to Matthew. Matthew pulls his hand back faster than their fingers can touch again. “That's between my girlfriend and me.”
“Are you that secretive when it comes to relationships? No juicy details?”
“No. I prefer to keep my personal and professional life separate, if that's what you mean.”
Matthew shrugs. “Suit yourself. But if you ever want to share some gossip, you know where to find me,” he jokes and puts his hand on Jiwoong's shoulder, squeezing it lightly. Jiwoong almost immediately shakes it off, laughing.
“I doubt it'll come to that.”
***
Seoul, ten years ago
“The comeback will be in a badass style. And you know what that means, my darlings?”
Jiwoong doesn't want to leave the dorm room at all anymore, just so he doesn't have to see Gyuvin standing in the middle of the exercise equipment, looking proud and talking about something great.
“That's right, it means we need to train hard. I'd also say we need to stick to a diet too. Am I right, Ricky?”
Ricky, who is sitting off to the side on one of the machines, scrolling through his phone, flips Gyuvin the middle finger without even looking up from the screen. Jiwoong hears Seobin sigh next to him.
“Do you want to spend all your free time in the gym?”
“Exactly, hyung.” Gyuvin walks over to Seobin and stands between him and Jiwoong, putting his arms around their shoulders and pulling them closer. Ricky glances over at them. “We need to become the best versions of ourselves so we don't fuck up the album this time.”
“I'm afraid our success doesn't just depend on how jacked our backs are,” Jiwoong comments.
Gyuvin laughs, and his hand moves lower, onto Jiwoong's back, as if checking for muscles.
“Well, your muscles... aren't bad. I'd definitely appreciate them under different circumstances,” he winks, making Jiwoong roll his eyes and remove the other's hand from himself. Ricky clears his throat in the background, drawing attention to himself. “Are you jealous, baby?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Ricky hisses through clenched teeth, and Gyuvin laughs.
“Whatever you say, babe.”
Ricky mutters something unintelligible under his breath before turning away, but he stays where he is—he doesn't leave, even though nothing is keeping him there.
“Are you ever going to stop fighting? Or are you going to keep tearing each other's throats out until the company takes an interest in your behavior?” Jiwoong asks.
Gyuvin leaves Seobin and Jiwoong alone and walks over to the machine, standing behind Ricky: he presses his chest against Ricky's back.
“Us? Fighting? I don't know what you're talking about,” Gyuvin says, deliberately calm, and as if to confirm his words, he presses kisses along the back of Ricky's neck. Ricky jerks, trying to push him off, but Gyuvin sits down behind him on the same ab crunch machine and puts his hand on Ricky's waist.
Seobin and Jiwoong exchange glances. Silence hangs between them—and from the way Ricky freezes, nothing good should be expected. Gyuvin, impulsive and unpredictable by nature, is testing Ricky's patience. Jiwoong gets the feeling that soon he won't be able to take it anymore. And that's exactly what happens.
Ricky suddenly jumps up from the machine and pushes Gyuvin's hands off his waist. Muttering something unintelligible and pulling down the edge of the black sleeveless shirt he only wears to the gym, he heads for the exit. His cheeks are red. Gyuvin giggles smugly.
“I told you, he and I aren't enemies,” he teases.
“His face is all red from anger,” Seobin notes, still watching Ricky leave.
Gyuvin stays silent, though Jiwoong gets the feeling he definitely has something to say.
***
Their late dance practice gets canceled due to the choreographer's absence. Jiwoong spends his free time in the dorm, scrolling through a script; Seobin falls asleep on the bottom bunk in the meantime—Jiwoong throws a blanket over him and climbs up to the top level, flipping through the printed pages and trying unsuccessfully to memorize at least something. Useless. His head starts to throb.
He jumps down from the top bunk and heads toward the door, bare feet touching the floor. The kitchen turns out to be empty. He drinks a glass of water and sets the glass back down with a loud clink.
Gyuvin walks into the kitchen exactly ten minutes later. He jumps in place when he notices Jiwoong sitting at the table in the dark.
Jiwoong politely says "sorry" and shifts all his attention to Gyuvin—dressed in his hoodie and jeans, Gyuvin pulls the remains of some dried-out pizza from the fridge, which has been sitting there for several days and has started to smell, and tosses it in the microwave.
“Tell me what's going on between you and Ricky,” Jiwoong begins, gathering his thoughts. He needs to do something.
“We need to fix something before it affects our reputation.”
Gyuvin climbs onto the kitchen table and turns to face Jiwoong. His hair, still wet from a recent shower, sticks out in all directions.
“Affects what? No one cares what happens behind closed doors. No one's perfect, Jiwoong-hyung. There isn't a single group where everything is fine.”
“But in the public eye, there also aren't any groups where one member hates another and shows it in every possible way,” Jiwoong continues. He's met a lot of groups, known many indirectly even before debut—no one has ever dealt with anything like this. “Today's little performance with the kiss was over the top. You need to talk to Ricky about it and apologize.”
Gyuvin snorts with laughter. “Me? Apologize? Maybe I should suck him too?”
Jiwoong rolls his eyes at such rudeness. “Watch your mouth. Your crudeness is out of line right now.”
“It's not crudeness. I'm just saying what I think.”
Gyuvin finishes the leftover pizza, jumps off the table, and wipes his hands on his jeans. “We'll talk later,” he adds carelessly and dashes toward the exit again.
***
gyu: "come to the locker room"
ricky: "why"
gyu: "i miss you"
ricky: "so what
i'll get you hard and leave you alone with a fucking boner until night"
gyu: "that's cruel
why are you like that"
ricky: "because you shouldn't kiss my neck in public
i had to go to the fucking bathroom like a schoolboy"
gyu: "my baby can't handle neck kisses?
your neck is too sensitive"
ricky: "don't call me that"
gyu: "fine
should i wait for you?"
ricky: "yeah, in about five minutes
seobin was asking me about you"
gyu: "what did you say?"
ricky: "nothing
i left"
gyu: "i didn't say anything either when jiwoong and seobin asked me"
ricky: "good boy"
Gyuvin feels himself getting hard—and damn Ricky for knowing exactly how this affects him. He's too susceptible to praise, and...
“Get on your knees.”
...and to everything Ricky can do to him. He lifts Gyuvin by the chin, presses lightly on his jaw, forcing him to open his mouth. Gyuvin obeys without a second thought. He takes Ricky deeper, focuses on his breathing as the cock stretches his throat. It makes his knees feel even weaker—even as they kneel on the cold floor.
Saliva mixes with pre-cum, drips down his chin—Ricky pulls Gyuvin's hair back just enough to be felt, then moves his hand to Gyuvin's chin. He braces his other hand against the wall, against the metal lockers that creak open at the slightest touch.
“Good boy,” Ricky repeats, and Gyuvin is ready to moan. He goes even lower, takes him deeper—Ricky thrusts his hips forward and presses his forehead against his own arm, the one braced against the lockers. Only quiet sighs are heard, and even those are quickly muffled.
Gyuvin lets him come in his mouth, all over his fucking face; a few moments later, Ricky pulls him closer, up onto his feet, and kisses him. He wipes the cum off Gyuvin's face and kisses the corner of his lips—Gyuvin kisses him back, drops his hand to Ricky's waist, gripping his sleeveless t-shirt: the same black, tight-fitting one.
“Are you okay?” Ricky asks between kisses, and Gyuvin just nods.
“Absolutely. Except for the part where you came on my face.”
Ricky laughs and steps back a couple of paces to pull some tissues from his bag and hand them to Gyuvin.
“Sorry,” Ricky says, almost embarrassed, and helps Gyuvin clean himself up. Gyuvin jokingly flips him off.
He tosses the used tissues into the trash can and sits down on the bench by the lockers, leaning his head back against them. Ricky pulls on his boxers and gray sweatpants.
“We need to go soon,” he notes and turns to Gyuvin, nodding toward his crotch. “Do you want help with that?”
Gyuvin flips him off again but doesn't refuse the offer.