Chapter Text
There is more to an idol career than most casual onlookers would assume, and not all of it good. There are the weird schedules, the endless, endless waiting without actual rest, the sacrifice of both privacy and real knowledge and understanding- everybody knows you and yet, nobody does at the same time.
Seungkwan chose this life. He chose it knowingly and naively (because how could anyone ever truly know until they’ve lived it?), and despite its drawbacks, he has continued to choose it, over and over again. Every day, he wakes up and chooses it.
And it's all for moments like this.
If little Boo Seungkwan, dancing with his sisters in the living room to Wonder Girls, singing along in his broad Jeju dialect, could know that someday thirty-thousand people would scream his name as he performed, well…
Actually, little Boo Seungkwan would probably have believed it as his birthright. Teenage trainee Boo Seungkwan, jaded by the realities of a disgusting green basement, would not.
Seungkwan was always a singer. Dancing was just for fun, something you did in the living room or in front of a mirror. He could never guess the pride he’s come to take in the ways his body can move. And these screams aren’t all for the song, or for his voice- they’re for the elegant way he moves his arms, the placement of his feet, the line of his body as he weaves in and out of the dancers’ formation. He looks good. He knows he looks good, because he has made himself this way, not through god-given talent but through hard work and determination and constant, back-breaking practice.
The song is a surprise for the fans. He never got to perform this one on a music show after all, but when solo stages had been mentioned for the concert Chan had gotten a very determined glint in his eye and informed him, in no uncertain terms, which one he would be doing.
Hansol has mixed feelings about it, and had pouted that he wouldn’t be able to watch his stage if he wanted to be in a fit state to go on for the Hip-Hop Unit one straight after. Seungkwan is fairly certain he’s watching it anyway. He’s wearing baggy jeans. He’ll cope.
As he exits, he’s buzzing, and in the dark he almost misses walking straight into his bandmates. Hansol’s eyes are dark and intense, glinting reflections of the roving stage lights awaiting his entrance. They bore into him as he walks, and Seungkwan takes advantage of the gloom to brush over his wrist as they pass, ships in the wings.
It’s an angry song, he reasons. He’ll do better if he’s a little riled up.
The rest of the concert passes in a blur of lights and screams and aching muscles. He’s so happy that it takes him by surprise, sitting in a row of stools for their last remarks before the encore, when he starts tearing up. They aren’t bad tears, as such, but still, he wants to end this concert smiling. It’s so easy, when Hansol is sitting on the next stool, just two feet away, to slip his hand over his wrist and curl their fingers together, to let gravity turn them in to face each other.
The glint of concern lights in Hansol’s eyes as soon as they meet his, but he shakes his head around a watery smile.
“I’m OK, it’s OK,” he whispers, even though the stage means he won’t be able to hear him, only see the movement of his mouth.
All the same, Hansol pulls his in-ear out and swings them closer together. He tugs Seungkwan in so he can talk in his ear.
“It’s fine, just… look at me. Make me smile?”
Their eyes meet again and the world narrows, the roars of the fans quiet, Jun’s voice through the in-ears dims to a distant chatter. Hansol scans his face, relaxes minutely when he sees something that quiets his concern. And then he slowly pulls his upper lip back until it’s curled up thin over his top teeth. He looks ridiculous, like a chimpanzee trying to threaten someone. It startles a laugh out of Seungkwan immediately.
You’re an idiot, he mouths, and Hansol just grins back and squeezes his hand tighter, and the noise of the concert hall comes rushing back in.
The never ending encore always produces mixed feelings, and Seungkwan has come to appreciate how it helps them almost want to be off the stage, tiring both themselves and the audience out so much that the concert coming to a close is more a relief than a loss. Backstage buzzes as they pour out, sweaty, tired, hyper and running on false fumes of mental energy as their bodies start to give out. Seungkwan gets a shoulder under Jeonghan who still sways to the beat of the eternal music and can’t quite seem to walk in a straight line, and deposits him on a sofa in the dressing room before collapsing next to him. His hands feel numb, fingers swollen as he clumsily removes his in-ears and his mic-pack, handing them to the technician who comes round collecting. In a corner, Soonyoung is on a table, still bursting with energy as their stylist tries to coax him down to hand over his jewellery. Jihoon, on the floor beneath, allows himself to be moved like a ragdoll so they can collect his audio equipment, before tipping sideways into the make-up artist handing out clean cloths for sweaty faces. She merely adjusts her balance to accommodate the new weight and carries on.
It takes a few minutes for guests to be escorted from the auditorium backstage, and Seungkwan uses them to lean against Hansol for a micro-nap.
Soon, slightly less sweaty, a little refreshed, they shuffle en masse into the waiting room to receive their guests. Seungkwan poses for so many photos with celebrity friends he can barely keep track of whose camera he should be looking at, whose manager or publicist to bow to in thanks for taking it. He gets tackled by several members of Astro, squeezes Soobin’s cheeks, devolves into various silly poses with Hansol’s little ragtag group of cool friends. The whole group gathers to pose around a bucket-hatted and shyly beaming Jeon Jungkook, who then hides behind Mingyu to avoid talking to any strangers. After a hectic few minutes, most of them start slipping away to other schedules and commitments, and Seungkwan is so distracted by escaping Myungjun’s increasingly sloppy goodbye kisses that he doesn’t, at first, notice the new figure in the room.
Priya doesn’t look uncomfortable, but she’s not as bright as normal either. Hansol does look uncomfortable, obviously so, but he’s talking. They’re talking. There’s a brief flash of an old fear, an awful urge to barge between them and put a hand on him, to claim ownership, but he tampers it down, releases it in a slow breath. It’s easy to do, as mostly he just feels pleased. Even more so as Priya clearly gives up on Hansol initiating anything and rolls her eyes, throwing her arms round his neck for a brief hug, surprising Hansol so much he nearly forgets to hug her back. Then she spots him over his shoulder.
“Boo Seungkwan!”
“Noona!”
They meet in a tight hug, and he flushes as she rambles on about how brilliant they were, how sexy he looked, how proud she is of him.
“The song only exists because of you, take some credit!” he pouts at her, and she squashes his cheeks together non-too-gently.
“It exists because your boyfriend is on a mission to show you off,” she laughs at him, not even stumbling over the word. “He’s flexing.”
“He’s incorrigible,” Seungkwan agrees with a smirk, and it’s wonderful. Maybe they’re both trying too hard, but it’s enough to know they can have this, he can have Priya teasing him and Hansol’s heavy eyes all at once, when he’d been so afraid he’d lost the both of them.
How lucky they all are.
She keeps a loose hold of his hand as she greets the others, bowing politely to parents, striking up a conversation with Mingyu’s dad to distract him from the way his eyes were lingering with suspicion on Jungkook’s hand at his son’s waist.
Hansol sidles up next to them and presses a dry kiss to Seungkwan’s cheek. He’s still eyeing the door expectantly, and soon he’s rewarded.
“ I’m so sorry baby, I needed to use the toilet. Your mother’s not as young as she used to be.”
“It’s OK Mom,” Hansol replies, wrapping his mother in a tight hug, then pulling Sofia in for the same.
It’s been so long since Seungkwan has seen them in person. She does look older, though no less lively for it, but Sofia is growing too fast. He tells her as much and she flaps at him shyly.
“Don’t be silly, Oppa,” she tells him, and he just smooths her hair down fondly from where it’s frizzing up at the top. “You guys were so cool.”
“Hmmmm, who was cooler, me or your brother?”
“He has never been cool,” she snorts, and Hansol only weakly protests before she’s bodily lifted away by Seungcheol so Jeonghan can coo over her from his corner.
Seungkwan always finds it odd to look down on the women in his life, and Hansol’s mother is no exception. She’s such a presence he always feels like she should be metres taller than him, like looking up at a mountain, but instead he tilts his head down to meet her eyes. Her face softens as she looks at him, and she lays a hand gently on his cheek, ignoring the way Hansol’s gaze burns at the point of contact between the two. He’s obviously trying very hard to appear casual about witnessing this meeting, and they are both politely ignoring how badly he’s failing.
“Seungkwannie,” she says fondly, a little thickly. “ My sweet boy. I’m so happy it's you, I’m so glad you finally found each other.”
He doesn’t know how to answer that in English.
Priya’s not looking at them but he can feel the way her hand jolts so slightly in his, the way she stiffens which tells him she's heard. He fights through the wheels in his brain trying to make him worry, trying to weigh up what’s appropriate and tactful and instead just squeezes, rubs a thumb over the back of her hand. He’s said his thank yous and his sorrys, they don’t need any more, but he can still offer this comfort. He’s fairly sure she’s not in love with Hansol anymore, but it takes time to get over these things fully, and she’s no doubt imagining the other future where it was her turn to have this conversation, what might have been said differently. Does she hear the expectation in that finally too? Does it hurt to think of what disappointment might have met her if it were her instead?
Is Seungkwan awful for hoping it would have?
Seungkwan can’t bat the thoughts away, but he can pretend not to think them, so he lets himself be hugged, stumbles his way through saying how good it is to see her again.
She pinches his belly as she teases about how her son better be taking good care of him, says something he can’t fully make out to Hansol, but seems to imply he’s punching above his weight, which is deeply untrue but still nice to hear. And then she follows his arm to the person it’s attached to and exclaims.
“You must be Priya! It’s so lovely to meet you at last!”
Priya takes less than a millisecond to gather herself before smiling her most charming smile, pretty cheeks dimpled. She loses his hand in the hug she receives.
" I saw that article, by the way," Hansol's mother says with a slightly wicked glint. " I wondered if I was going to have to give our Seungkwannie a very firm telling off."
The almost imperceptible tension drops from Priya's frame and her eyes widen in delight, reaching over to flick Seungkwan's rapidly pinkening ears.
“Oh, he’s only with Hansol for his money and his composing skills, we’re gonna run away to the south of France soon once he’s seduced a whole album out of him,” She jokes, and Seungkwan splutters, understanding enough.
Hansol’s hand slips down to his hip and tightens, drawing him closer into his side.
“ You forgot the part where he gets signed on my life insurance and then the two of you murder me, ” he piles on, and Seungkwan whines and hides his face in Hansol’s shoulder while they all laugh.
Sofia, freshly escaped from Jeonghan’s clutches, suggests they take photos, and everyone agrees as Priya’s offer to play photographer is shot down.
“How can you take the photo if you’re in it, silly Noona?” Seungkwan says, and pointedly doesn’t look at her face until she’s managed to recover it.
They wave over Minghao, but get a three-for-one bargain as Mingyu follows, Jungkook trailing behind and quietly taking one of the proffered phones as they settle in to pose, Sofia doing her best not to vibrate out of her skin at his presence. They take a few all five of them, cute and silly, Priya and Hansol ambushing him by kissing both his cheeks at once as he squawks. Then Hansol gathers his mother and sister to him, beaming toothily as he towers between them.
“Just you two now,” Hansol’s mother demands, retrieving her phone and affixing her spectacles as she leans back from the screen to see.
At Sofia’s whispered suggestion to ensure they actually get a photo that’s not blurred beyond visibility, Mingyu stands behind her with Seungkwan’s phone. Hansol’s arm returns to his waist, and Seungkwan does the same, wrapping both around his middle and leaning his head on a shoulder, feeling Hansol’s rest atop it. After instructions to smile, the clicking stops and Hansol asks if they can take some on his own phone. They settle in again, but Hansol makes a half-word as Mingyu raises the phone, and when Seungkwan turns his head to check he finds lips pressed to his own, a firm but gentle kiss that has squeals and hollers ring out across the waiting room.
“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sorry, and he doesn’t look it either when Seungkwan opens his eyes, grin blinding, eyes blazing.
Seungkwan prints a few of them, later, in the lull between the Seoul concert and setting off on tour. The picture of all five of them gets added to his wall, alongside the whole group photo that joins its likeness from every concert they’ve ever done, a photographic history of their growth. The others go in the scrap-book on a slow morning, and he traces his favourite with a gentle pinky, Hansol still sleeping soundly in the bed behind him.
It’s not the one of them kissing. It’s of the moment after- Seungkwan’s eyes still closed, Hansol’s fixed on him as he smiles his wide, silly unrepentant smile that would never be captured in any other photoshoot. It’s not a smile that’s Seungkwan’s alone, but it was his in this moment, and it will be for so many more still to come.