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2023
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[ A/N: to clarify, in this story, With U is San's solo, and it is the song that hongjoong and san filmed a coming out music video with. ]
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When Yeosang offhandedly suggested that they all go out to celebrate the filming of the With U music video, Hongjoong was appalled to find that even Wooyoung was keen to the idea, his limbs flailing through the air as his excitement flourished and caused them all to lurch away in fear of getting hit.
"Fuck yeah! Woah-" Yunho skillfully dodged Wooyoung's elbow that had been on a straight trajectory right towards his face, dipping underneath the younger's arm with a battle cry.
Wooyoung gave him a shy smile and calmly backed up against the fridge.
"Is this not celebrating?" Seonghwa gestured offensively to the steaming stove top with the knife in his hand, frowning as he continued to dice onions.
"Why am I doing all this work if it's not even going to be appreciated?"
"I told you, hyung, I can help-"
"It's okay, Wooyoung. Just go have a seat by Hongjoong." He cooed gently, rubbing the younger man's shoulder in a kind way of saying fuck no, before sending him on his way towards the dining table where Hongjoong was already pulling out a chair for him with his feet, arms occupied where they determinedly stayed looped around San who was sitting on his lap.
Despite his struggle, he managed to pull the chair out just enough for Wooyoung to sit down, all while keeping his arms tight around San's waist.
The blond looked down at him, amused.
"I'll still eat, Seonghwa! Don't worry." Jongho reassured with a wide pair of doe eyes, leaning across the bar stool just to dip the tip of his finger into a bowl of sauce that the eldest had made specially for them.
He brought it to his lips, tongue dashing out to catch any flavor that lingered, and smiled so toothily that it made Seonghwa's head duck down in a sudden wave of bashfulness, ears turning red.
"Is it good, Jongho?" Yeosang asked, reaching forward and grabbing a handful of diced onions from the large pile on the cutting board.
Seonghwa paused his movements with wide eyes, nervously gripping his knife until Yeosang's hand was clear of the blade.
"It's delicious!"
"So we're not going out?" Yunho deflated, disappointment evident in his voice.
Seonghwa gave him a deliberate glare from over his knife, and Yunho forced a wobbly smile.
"This is all Yeosangie's fault." Hongjoong muttered, meaning for his words to remain unheard against San's shoulder, but Yeosang's pout made it fairly obvious that Hongjoong had failed miserably.
"I'm sorry, hyung." Yeosang said, astonishingly sincere, and it was spoken with entirely too much kindness for the eldest to do anything except reach for the tanned boy's hand, squeezing his palm gently.
"I'm okay with going out. Just...let me-"
"We could always just go out for drinks instead." San suggested, standing up and detaching himself from Hongjoong so that he could make his way to Yeosang instead, where he wrapped himself around his shoulders in a backwards bear hug.
Hongjoong watched them from across the kitchen, allowing himself to soften as San brushed Yeosang's hair back and spoke quietly in his ear, focused and adoring in their own little world, oblivious to the sudden chatter as the rest of the group negotiated through ideas.
Hongjoong was sure that a long time ago, when his heart wasn't nearly as content and his anxiety was through the roof, he would have been jealous watching San be so comfortable with someone else.
The way San held Yeosang by the waist and guided him out of his chair just to hug him would have made Hongjoong's chest hurt, pain and betrayal hitting first before anger ever did.
But San was the one who held his hand under the table at dinner.
The one who pressed their knees together and kicked encouragingly at Hongjoong's feet whenever the cameras weren't looking, smiles loving and embraces lingering.
Hongjoong wasn't insecure when it came to San, because he knew who it was that slid into bed with him at the end of the night.
He knew which boy had eyes only for him.
Which is why when the eight of them finally came to the agreement that they'd eat the dinner Seonghwa prepared and then go out for drinks, Hongjoong was already leaning back in his chair to make room for San again, even before the blond unlinked his arm with Yeosang's and turned around to return to his seat.
Hongjoong spread his legs, patting his thigh with a smile, but San stopped just short of his knees to pull him in by the chin for a kiss, their noses bumping in a hazy rush that made San smile too widely for the kiss to last longer than a single moment.
Hongjoong didn't mind.
Half an hour later after various servings and endless laughter, they all waited for Jongho and Yeosang to finish washing dishes before pairing up and splitting into two seperate vans.
It was almost impossible for them to go anywhere in Korea without getting recognized anymore, but with burly clothing and a promise of secluded seating, they were somewhat able to feel like a normal group of boys in their twenties.
That, and the guiding presence of their manager who practically held their hands everywhere they went, firm and dependable against their sides every time they sprinted through an airport or wanted a taste of freedom outside of their dorm.
The man was tall and comforting, towering over Hongjoong who barely reached the underside of his chin, and his smiles were always so grateful, patient and adoring towards each member.
He loved them all dearly.
Which was incredibly convenient, because when they called him up just after sundown to ask him to chaperone them so they could get drunk, he didn't hesitate to let out the most endearing laugh before agreeing.
They arrived just in time to witness the sky go completely dark, the wind picking up, and fumbled out of both cars with excitement thrumming in their stomachs.
Hongjoong took his hand off of San's thigh the moment the van doors opened, falling back into a familiar pattern that was all instinct now, head ducking as he slipped on his face mask.
"I thought our goal was to get wasted." Yunho said, pulling at his fleece jacket.
"What is this place?" Hongjoong looked up, shivering in the cold, and found his features shaping with similar confusion when he didn't recognize the dark bricked building.
"Hyung thought it would be better for appearances to be seen at a karaoke bar rather than a regular bar." Seonghwa provided, voice muffled behind his scarf.
He had the entire thing wrapped around his head like a noose, and yet his ears were already turning a violent shade of pink.
Their manager seemed to rise to attention at the mention of his name, flashing Seonghwa a lifted eyebrow before shoving his hands into his coat with a shrug.
"Uh, yeah."
"Bullshit!" San laughed, pushing through Jongho and Wooyoung to charge at Seonghwa threateningly.
"If our manager can take me to a strip club unnoticed, then he sure as hell can handle getting us into a bar without any problems." He declared, calling the eldest on his bluff with an arm thrown around his shoulder.
Naturally, Yunho was the first to react, laughing so obnoxiously that they earned a few pointed glances from across the street.
He clutched at his chest and fell back against the side of the van with a breathless squeal, agonizing amusement contorting his face.
Wooyoung watched blankly as he struggled to stand up straight again, whereas Jongho moved to help, gripping the dancer's arm with a gummy grin that wasn't nearly as boisterous as Yunho's heart shaped smile.
Hongjoong was just more confused.
"What?" He muttered tiredly, eyes squinted and glassy from the cold, but San must have thought he was close to crying, because he came forward abruptly enough to make Hongjoong take a firm step back, gaze warning.
San stopped before he could touch the elder, immediately understanding the necessary distance.
"It was before...you know." He blushed harshly, barely able to explain, but Hongjoong just huffed in disbelief, mouth twitching upward with unexpected delight at the thought of a baby faced San, sweating and blushing with nerves at the sight of half nude models dancing on stage.
San couldn't have been older than twenty when this happened, and that fact alone was enough to make Hongjoong double over with a wheeze, his smile making Yeosang pinch at his cheeks.
"Choi San!" Wooyoung shouted, sounding somewhere between disapproving and impressed, and the young blond rushed to cover his cheeks, laughter joyful.
"Why didn't you take me with you San?" Mingi pouted.
"Okay!" Seonghwa relented, tired of all the demanding stares.
"So it was my idea. But you bastards made me rush dinner- and that, that's on god."
Hongjoong groaned in pain.
"You need to stay off Twitter, hyung." He mumbled, pushing past their circle of limbs to be the first to reach the crosswalk, gaze instinctively flying over his shoulder to watch as the other members crossed the street safely, a subtle but calming reassurance.
"I like this place better." Jongho perked up encouragingly, tugging at Seonghwa's arm with a smile as they all filed into the building, following after their manager.
There were rules to things like this, basics to follow if they were planning on making this an enjoyable night.
The first rule, which was primarily made for Wooyoung, Yunho, and Mingi's sake, was to stay quiet, don't draw unnecessary attention.
Arriving in a group of eight was already a bigger entrance than they wanted, the last thing they needed was to have Yunho's cackling laughter and Yeosang's obscure expressions be what made them become swarmed with cameras.
Rule number two: let their manager do the talking.
Trying to subtlety request for a closed off section to eat in peace, or even to buy out the whole restaurant looked better coming from their manager rather than Hongjoong who was more often than not recognized in an instant.
They were meant to act professional in public, muttering curt excuses to refrain from photos or autographs.
They had an image to appeal to, even if something inside of them cracked and broke away everytime they forced themselves into the same confinements, the same boxing restrictions just to fit into the personas they portrayed.
This was precisely why rule number three existed: keep Hongjoong away from San.
It sounded simple enough, but the rule had been made with the deliberate intention of biting Hongjoong in the ass.
He understood the importance of it, recognized that he could be unfairly obvious at times when his shield would waver and he'd allow himself to glance at the younger, open mouthed and shy, but he still despised the rule.
Dreaded it being enforced every time they left the apartment, because they had only been inside the karaoke bar for a mere ten seconds and Seonghwa was already weaving his way in between them, putting a substantial amount of distance between the two, and it was like this every single time.
It made Hongjoong's mood drop in an instant, expression sinking with irritation.
Yunho was by his side before long though, unreasonably used to the sudden weight that had settled itself along Hongjoong's shoulders, and he pressed up against his side with a warmth that was always more comforting than the elder expected it to be, and yet still didn't sink as far as he had hoped.
It was times like this that made Hongjoong crave for the way it used to be.
When they could all go out and enjoy a meal together without the fear of being flagged down and chased back to their cars.
When he could look at San across the table and tug teasingly at his arm without second guessing his every move, eyes dashing out fearfully in search of witnesses after every touch.
He wished that the pressure didn't exist, and that the success hadn't brought on a wave of uncertainty that they hadn't been expecting, because fame was supposed to mean happiness, right?
Being able to sell out venues and break through the music charts even in America was a sure way of saying you made it, but was it really worth it?
It was a question that Hongjoong had been contemplating quietly lately, in the stillness of his own mind where no one would ever see him asking such selfish questions.
But it was hard to take them seriously when he was constantly reminded of the blessings that were being handed to him, the reality of the life he was living.
It was difficult to imagine wanting to go back to a time when they were nobody's, but Hongjoong figured it was part of his weakness, his inability to be satisfied and content with where he was in life.
It was fine.
He was fine.
After only a brief exchange between their manager and the owner of the establishment, who had seemed positively eager once he discovered who exactly had stepped foot inside his bar, Hongjoong and the others were guided towards the back of the building where a private room was already being prepared for them.
"Which one of you is willing to dishonor your name to get up there and sing Gangnam Style with me?" Seonghwa asked the moment they were left alone in the longue, neon stage lights making his twinkling smile look even brighter, and apparently too appealing to Wooyoung and Yeosang who agreed so thoughtlessly that Hongjoong let out a baffled laugh into the rim of his shot glass.
"Oh no." Jongho mumbled from beside him, eyes blown wide as he watched three of his hyungs bound for the stage.
San scooted in beside Hongjoong, smiling with his entire face.
"Yeosangie loves this song." He commented, eager, and Hongjoong was hardly even able to emit an acknowledging hum before Yeosang's voice was rushing towards them through dozens of speakers around the room, piercing their ears with a terrifying volume that had San flinching back in his seat with a regretful expression that looked painful enough for both him and Jongho to start cackling into their drinks.
"I'm so conflicted right now." Yunho gasped, looking torn between curling up with Mingi on the couch and succumbing to the urge to dash for the stage to join the three in making a complete fool of themselves.
"Wait." Hongjoong said.
Yunho turned to look at him.
"You'll need this first." He delicately chose a shot glass out of their many options, this one tinted a faded purple per San's request, and slid it across the surface of the coffee table where Yunho caught it effortlessly just before it reached the edge.
"Fuck, yes." Yunho grinned, and Mingi watched with barely contained amazement as the dancer threw his head back and drained the glass in a single swallow, throat bobbing roughly.
"Thanks, hyung."
Twenty minutes and two orders of alcohol later, Hongjoong was still cemented into the couch, reluctant to step up to the stage, but he was smiling now, arms relaxed and skin flushed around the softness of his cheeks where San kept nuzzling, teasing Hongjoong for his redness.
At this point, the elder wasn't sure whether he could blame the color on the alcohol anymore.
Wooyoung and Seonghwa were playing a very drunken version of Solitaire at the far end of the couch, and even though Hongjoong had scolded them several times over how they had decided to situate themselves, Wooyoung still continued to find himself tipping over the edge of the couch every time Seonghwa swatted at him and his cards, shamelessly cheating.
Hongjoong knew they would have stopped goofing off by now if their manager was still in the room, but their manager had slipped out in search of a bathroom and with the promise to bring back snacks.
Hongjoong probably would have fallen asleep by then if Yunho, Yeosang, and Jongho weren't still singing through their matching layers of sweat and booze, faces red and smiles wide enough to look painful.
Well, that and San, whose body was simply too warm to ignore, too soft and attentive by his side.
Yunho hadn't come down from the stage ever since Hongjoong's alcoholic encouragement, and neither had Jongho, who eventually gave in after Yeosang had chased him around the room and pinned him against the couch, refusing to get up unless the youngest sang with him.
Jongho had been hooked in after that, always declining Yeosang's kind, "you can go rest now, Jongho," with a shy smile and a shake of his head, sweaty hair whipping around to rest above his eyes.
He had gotten too comfortable with where he was, the glow on his skin and the alcohol in his system, much like San who hadn't left Hongjoong's side since his first and only appearance on stage, where even his uncontrollable laughter and shimmering voice hadn't been enough to keep him up there.
Keep him away from Hongjoong.
He had slowly walked back to his seat despite Jongho's brutal teasing, and had slipped himself so seamlessly into the curve of Hongjoong's side, head resting along the elder's shoulder.
And he had stayed there.
Through all the chaos, all the excitement and fun that Hongjoong was sure San would rather be taking part in, he stayed with his nose trailing the cool expanse of Hongjoong's neck.
"Don't you want to go up there and sing?" Hongjoong asked him, peering down.
The room was dark except for the stage lights, soft ringlets of cherry pink and royal blue that managed to reach the furniture in small brushes of light, and Hongjoong watched as they dashed over San's eyes as he looked up, cheekbones becoming dusted in the shades of color.
San studied him for a moment, mouth quirked up as he resisted the urge to smile blindly.
"Not really. I like where I am." His eyes fell to Hongjoong's lips, observing casually but blatantly enough to make Hongjoong's stomach turn.
"Are you drunk?" He asked, and San suddenly couldn't contain his smile.
"Drunk on love."
"You're drunk."
"Am not." San giggled, but his actions spoke volumes as he dragged a hand down Hongjoong's chest and fumbled at the hem of his shirt, fingers dancing across skin.
"Sannie." He grunted, pulling away, but San's lips were on his neck now and with the tempting light and the alcohol rotating in his blood, the warmth of the younger's mouth went straight to his gut, curling up his spine where Hongjoong arched along the back of the couch and moaned breathless against San's cheek, hand curling into the front of his shirt to pull him closer.
Fuck rule number three, Hongjoong thought angrily as he pulled San into the heat of his lap and kissed him with both hands holding his face, thumbs dashing out across his cheeks.
San stiffened with surprise but practically melted at the contact, arms looping around Hongjoong's neck without any regard for the others, and Hongjoong liked that.
Liked that San kissed him without morals, dipped his tongue into Hongjoong's mouth with a wet moan that made the elder claw at his hips, made him yearn for something he knew he couldn't have as long as he was still in the same room as the children on stage and the idiots playing cards.
To Hongjoong's surprise, the others didn't bother them.
Maybe they were too oblivious to notice or too drunk to care, but Hongjoong liked to think it was because they knew better than to interfere.
They knew better than to rip them apart, because there had been a time when that was all they ever did, when Hongjoong and San had been too hidden to even feel safe breathing near each other, but that time was past now and they were no longer capable of being so harsh.
Wasn't this supposed to be a celebration after all?
And so Hongjoong kissed San and San accepted, moved against him in a way that showed no shame in doing so, and Hongjoong was drowning.
Melting from the inside out, heart convulsing in his chest, because this was worth the risk of losing his job and his dream.
This boy was worth everything.
He was sure of it.
Still sure of it even when the lights flickered and the door opened and Yeosang's singing stretched out into a single panicked scream of their names.
Was still sure of it even when their manager came rushing back into the room, mouth open and eyes wide, aware of the danger but still too late to stop the sudden intruder from zeroing in on the couple, camera shuttering with a brutal flash, and sprinting back out of the room where the dark figure sent workers tumbling to the ground in order to get away.
It all happened too fast for Hongjoong to register, to truly understand the grand scale of the mistake they had made, but Seonghwa was yelling somewhere far away and Yeosang was running for the door to follow their manager at full speed until Jongho pulled him back, and San was already crumbling into the far end of the couch, as far away from Hongjoong as he could possibly get- and it was then that the elder realized the drumming in his chest was fear.
"Fuck." San sobbed, soft and choked and timid around the edges at first.
His entire body contorted in on itself with a violent ripple.
"Fuck!" His voice cracked this time, torment muffled into the armrest of the couch, and he buried his head into his hands, arms wrapping around himself in a way that said stay the fuck away.
Hongjoong decided it was best to just listen.