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“It’s not safe,” Hongjoong says. “You know that.”
Wooyoung scowls. “I can take care of myself,” he replies. “You don’t have to pay someone to babysit me.”
Seonghwa leans over and pecks Hongjoong’s cheek. “That’s probably what John Lennon thought, Young-ah.”
“Maybe if he had imagined harder—”
“He’s on his way,” Hongjoong says. “Be nice to him.”
There has been an influx of crime—drug-fueled rampages, murders, and musicians shot by their own crazed fans. Wooyoung would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit worried. But this sounds a lot like a loss of freedom.
“But—” there’s no point in arguing with Hongjoong once his mind is set on something. Hongjoong gives him a look, and Wooyoung resigns. “Fine.”
“You’ll thank me,” he says. He pats Wooyoung on the back before slipping out the door. Seonghwa follows after him with sparkles in his eyes.
“It’s for your safety, Young-ah,” Seonghwa says. He ruffles Wooyoung’s hair on his way out.
Wooyoung looks at the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes until showtime. He’s performing a medley of his latest songs on the Tonight Show, followed by an interview and a fan-club meeting. If he’s lucky, he can eat lunch in between events.
There’s a knock at the door, and Wooyoung turns. “Who’s there?” He asks.
“Your bodyguard,” the man replies. Wooyoung opens the door a crack and peers at the man on the other side. His mouth goes dry.
“You’re my bodyguard,” he says, like he can’t believe it himself. He’s easily the most gorgeous man Wooyoung has ever seen.
The man nods. “Can I come in?” He’s so cute and polite that Wooyoung folds immediately. The man takes a seat on the couch. He’s either carrying a gun—or something else. Wooyoung will dwell on it later.
“My name’s Choi San,” he says. “Your manager hired me.” Wooyoung wants to grumble. Instead, he takes a seat next to San. Their knees touch for a moment. San extends a hand. “I’m a big fan.”
“You’re a fan of me?” Wooyoung is acutely aware of how big San is. His hands, his arms, his broad shoulders. He dwarfs Wooyoung completely. He leans a little closer. “What’s your favorite song?”
“Come Undone, for sure,” San replies. His Members-Only jacket is practically begging to be unzipped.
Wooyoung is impressed. “That’s a deep cut,” he says. “You’re a real fan, Choi San.”
San beams. His eyes curve into crescents and he looks like a happy cat. “Hongjoong-hyung said you didn’t want a bodyguard,” he says. “I know it’s not ideal—”
“Hongjoong-hyung lies all the time,” Wooyoung says with a sweet smile. “I’m happy to have you here, San-ah.”
The other man goes quiet. San blinks like he’s got something in his eyes, and he swallows thickly. “Sorry,” he says. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”
Wooyoung wants to trace lines into his broad chest. He hums softly. “Don’t tell me you flirt with all your clients.”
San shakes his head. “Just you.”
Wooyoung smiles. He resists the urge to pinch San’s cheek. “We’re gonna get along just fine, San-ah.”
🍇
Wooyoung can take care of himself, but it’s always nice to be looked after. Hongjoong and Seonghwa are like his tired parents. San is different.
San watches Wooyoung’s performance with sharp eyes, but his face softens every time Wooyoung glances over. If someone tries to assassinate him on stage, San will protect him immediately.
Wooyoung is hyperaware of every move he makes. Maybe it’s because San is watching him. Maybe he’s a little nervous. He glides across the stage with a silver microphone in his hand, running his fingers through his long hair.
“This last one is for my fans,” he says. “I love you all.” He shoots San a glance from behind the velvet curtain. The other boy lights up. San probably knows the lyrics to this song by heart.
He performs a new version of Words. The curtains close and he finally leaves the stage. San is by his side in a moment. He’s nothing if not thorough.
“Your English is really cute,” he says. He’s leading Wooyoung down the hallway with a hand hovering over his leather jacket. Maybe he’s afraid to touch. “Are you taking lessons?”
Wooyoung smiles. He nods. “Thank you, San-ah. I’ve got a new tour in a few months,” he says. “But you already knew that.”
San nods. He turns his head and Wooyoung gets a glimpse of his soft lips and defined cheekbones. “I have tickets.”
Wooyoung feels the tips of his ears heat up. If San lays his praise on any thicker, Wooyoung will end up crossing the ever-thinning line between them. He can already see headlines about him being unprofessional. “Can I buy you a coffee?” He asks.
🍓
“Did you always wanna be a bodyguard?” Wooyoung asks. They’re in some overpriced coffee shop in the heart of Los Angeles. The service is subpar, but the look on San’s face when Wooyoung pulled out his black card is worth the thirty minute wait.
San shakes his head. “I used to be kinda skinny,” he replies. “I was a security guard for gigs and stuff, then I started bulking up.” Wooyoung smiles. So San’s always been cute.
“How’d you end up here?” Wooyoung asks. He stirs his drink, eyeing San like he wants to keep him. San ordered for them—two iced americanos.
“My friend Jongho told me you needed a bodyguard,” he says. And everything makes sense.
“Yeosang,” Wooyoung mutters under his breath. Of course. “Do you like it?” He asks. “The job.”
“Being a security guard was alright,” San replies. “But this is way better.”
“You don’t think it’s annoying?” Wooyoung asks. The line between them gets thinner and thinner, all while his heart is juicing itself in his chest. Soft admiration intertwines with the fear of being too much and not enough.
San tilts his head and frowns. “Why? I’m getting paid to protect the Jung Wooyoung.”
San is making it impossibly hard not to fall head over heels. Hongjoong will wring his neck if he finds out Wooyoung has the hots for his bodyguard, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. It worked out well for Yeosang.
“You’re very handsome, San-ah,” Wooyoung says. “You could be a singer too.”
San blinks. “You think I’m handsome?”
“You look like a model,” he says. “Surely you’ve heard that before, Sannie.” San’s hand is a little too close to his own. It’s not close enough.
“From my mom, I guess,” he says. Wooyoung heart aches and squeezes in his chest. The juice filters through his ribcage.
“Choi San,” Wooyoung says. He’s smiling like an idiot. “I think you’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met.”
San smiles. He leans in a little closer. Wooyoung feels sweat collecting on his collarbones. He’s playing a dangerous game.
“You really mean that?”
“I never lie,” Wooyoung says. It would be achingly easy to just kiss San right here. Their booth is private enough. “I’m really glad hyung hired you.”
“Speak of the devil,” San says. “Hongjoong-hyung just paged me.” He looks down. “We’re supposed to meet him somewhere.”
“Epic records,” Wooyoung replies. “You ever been?”
🍋
San looks at everything in the building with wonder, like he’s never seen a chandelier or a state-of-the-art coffee machine before. It’s really cute.
“I hope we’re not in trouble,” Wooyoung says.
San gulps. “You think we’re in trouble?” He asks. His voice is warm and deep, soft in a way Wooyoung admires. “What if he fires me?”
“You’re not getting fired,” Wooyoung says. He rests his hand on San’s wrist. “I like you.”
San goes quiet. Wooyoung’s done tours and albums and photoshoots, but he’s never been so nervous. For the first time, he might be in over his head.
“I like you too, Young-ah,” San says. He drops the honorifics and it’s just them. “You know, I kinda wanted to be a dancer when I was younger.”
Wooyoung smiles. “It’s never too late,” he says. It’s too easy to imagine San wearing a dark shirt that hugs his tiny waist, dancing to Wooyoung’s songs like they’re his lifeblood. “I need guys for the tour.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Wooyoung replies. “If we make it out of here alive, you gotta show me your moves.”
San grins. Even his teeth are perfect. “It’s a deal.”
If San reaches for Wooyoung’s hand in the hallway, that’s no one’s business but theirs.
🍓
“You two are getting along,” Seonghwa says. “I’m glad!”
Hongjoong’s office looks messier than usual. With another tour around the corner, he has his work cut out for him.
“Don’t be afraid to tell him no,” Hongjoong says. “Someone has to.” San just laughs awkwardly.
Wooyoung wrinkles his nose. “It won’t be him,” he replies. “Sannie is my new best friend.” San grins the second the words register.
“We’re being very careful, Hongjoong-hyung,” San says. “I have a metal detector and I’ve been scanning the perimeter for any threats.”
“He’s very good,” Wooyoung says. “I hope you’re paying him enough.”
Hongjoong looks like an angry chipmunk when he’s exasperated. “San-ah,” Seonghwa says gently. “Could we have a moment?”
San nods. The second he leaves the room, Wooyoung’s lips curl into a smile. “He can stay in my apartment,” Wooyoung says. “I don’t mind.”
“You hated him three hours ago.”
“I never hated him,” Wooyoung replies. “Yeosang has a bodyguard,” he says. “I should have one too. What if I get attacked in my own home?”
Hongjoong stares him down suspiciously. “Why the change of heart?”
“He’s hot,” Wooyoung replies. Seonghwa snickers. “He’s really sweet and he’s, like, obsessed with me.”
Seonghwa’s hand is on Hongjoong’s back, grounding him. The shorter man sighs. “As long as he keeps you safe,” he says. “Don’t get caught, please.”
Wooyoung pulls Hongjoong and Seonghwa into a hug. “You’re the best, hyung!”
🍊
“You’re sure I’m not getting fired?”
“I’m sure, San-ah.” Wooyoung drags him down the hallway. “Let’s bounce.”
“The car’s waiting outside,” San says. He’s bigger than Wooyoung in every way, but he still lets the other boy lead him outside. “Your interview’s in an hour.”
“Plenty of time to get ice cream,” Wooyoung says, smiling widely. “Come on, Sannie.” San just follows behind him like a lovesick puppy.
“Can I pay this time?” San asks. Wooyoung would object if San wasn’t so cute. His golden skin is the sun against the soft pink sky. “Hongjoong-hyung’s paying me well.”
“Such a gentleman, San-ah,” Wooyoung says. “Sure.” The driver is confused when Wooyoung gives him directions to a candy store, but he drives off without a word.
True to his word, San whips out his card and tells Wooyoung to order whatever he wants. It’s getting increasingly harder not to fall in love with him.
“Let’s play twenty questions.” Wooyoung rests his head in his hand. “I’ll go first—when did you start liking me?”
“1983,” San replies. “They were playing a bunch of your stuff on MTV.” Wooyoung laughs softly. San’s been a fan since his debut. “My turn,” he says. “Are you dating anyone?”
“Way to be subtle, San-ah,” Wooyoung says. “I’m not.”
“Were you dating someone before—”
Wooyoung playfully flicks his forehead. “It’s my turn, Sannie.” San pouts. Wooyoung leans forward. He’s close enough to kiss his cheek. “I wasn’t.”
San relaxes. “Your turn.”
“Have you ever gotten into a fight?” Wooyoung asks. The way he’s vibrating is probably sending San mixed signals.
San thinks for a moment. “One time,” he replies. “I was a bouncer at this seedy club and some guy was being an asshole.”
Wooyoung leans closer. “Did you punch him?” He asks, and San nods. It’s easy to imagine being manhandled, held in San’s strong arms.
“Are you gonna keep growing your hair out?” San asks. If he wanted to, he could run his hands through Wooyoung’s long black hair, push the extra strands out of his eyes.
Wooyoung shrugs. “I kinda like it.”
San’s staring at him so softly Wooyoung feels like throwing up. He’s got the cherry ice cream smile people write songs about. “I like it too,” he says. “You kinda look like Michael Jackson.”
Wooyoung laughs. “No way.”
“Yes way!” San goes quiet for a moment. “Young-ah, they’re playing your song,” he says. Wooyoung knows his music gets airplay, but it’s the way San’s eyes widen and his teeth shine in the afternoon sun.
“Next question,” Wooyoung says. The moment’s so sweet he feels it in his teeth.
“Do you really play the guitar?”
Wooyoung scowls like an angry cat. “San-ah, I’m not one of the Monkees—”
San raises his hands. “Just teasing you, Young-ah,” he says. He reaches over with a napkin and wipes the corner of Wooyoung’s mouth. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed.”
Wooyoung can’t argue with that.
🍓
“We’d like to welcome one of our favorite guests—Jung Wooyoung!”
“I guess I should get out there,” Wooyoung says. Between the ice cream and Wooyoung’s insistence on stopping at a bodega, it’s a miracle they made it to the studio on time.
This time, San rests his hand on Wooyoung’s wrist. San could easily snap someone in half, and that fact makes Wooyoung hot under the collar. “You’re gonna do great, Youngie.” San talks like he’s known him for years. In a way, he has.
Wooyoung leans forward and presses his lips against San’s cheek. The touch is feather-light, but the other boy turns bright red. “Thank you, San-ah.”
Wooyoung was born after the height of Beatlemania, but the screaming crowd reminds him of the day the four boys touched down in New York.
“Wooyoung, you’re going on another tour,” she says. “What should we expect this time?”
Wooyoung stares into the camera for the viewers at home. “This tour is gonna be a mix of the past, present, and the future,” he says. “Unreleased songs, songs I’ve never performed—that sort of thing.”
“You’re a prodigy of dance,” the woman says, to a round of applause. “Fans are dying to know how you practice all day, every day.”
“I’ll be honest,” Wooyoung says. “Sometimes it gets hard to take care of yourself when everything has a deadline. Sometimes I forget to take breaks.”
“Are you dating anyone?” The woman asks. The screams cease for a moment and Wooyoung can finally hear himself speak.
Wooyoung is quiet for a moment. “Not dating,” he replies. “But I’ve got my eye on someone.”
Wooyoung locks eyes with San from behind the red curtain, and smiles. The girls scream again. “You heard it here first,” the woman says. “He could be in love with one of you!”
Wooyoung doesn’t bother correcting her. San is a fan, after all.
After the interview, Wooyoung immediately finds San backstage. “I’m surprised you didn’t mention Song energy,” he says. “It’s your favorite.”
“Is there anything you don’t know about me?” Wooyoung asks. He pinches San’s cheek.
San’s shoulder brushes against his own. “If you’re free for dinner tonight.”
Wooyoung stops. San chuckles nervously, and Wooyoung knows he’s met his match. “That was smooth, San-ah,” he says.
“You didn’t answer the question.” San pouts.
Wooyoung laughs. “For you? Definitely.”
🍇
“This place is massive,” San says. The convention center hasn’t changed since Wooyoung’s last visit. It’s still potted palm trees and neon lights. “You come here every month?”
“You’ve never been to a fan meeting before?” Wooyoung asks. If he had seen San before today, he would remember. It would be hard to forget a man like him.
“I could never get tickets,” he replies. “I always wanted to.”
Wooyoung reaches for his hand. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
If Wooyoung ever needed security, it would be during the fan meetings. Thousands of people filter through the convention hall, carrying fan letters and small gifts. The metal detector only works half the time, and the AC even less. A month ago, there was an incident involving Yeosang, a hysterical fan, and a camera hidden in a teddy bear.
“All you gotta do is sit there,” Wooyoung says. “Look at the gifts and make sure they’re okay.”
San nods. “I can do that.” He’s all moony-eyed, prepared to do anything Wooyoung asks of him.
The line stretches out the door and into the hallway. The first thirty minutes go by quickly, with the most diehard fans making it to the front.
“Wooyoung!” A teenage girl reaches for his hand. “What song do you wanna cover next?”
Wooyoung thinks for a moment. “Maybe a Modern Talking song?” He replies. “Or something by the Cure.” The girl hands him a copy of his latest album. He signs the jewel case with a smile. “Thank you for coming!”
San has no problem covertly checking Wooyoung’s gifts for anything strange. He gently sets the letters in a plastic box. He’d probably organize them alphabetically if Wooyoung asked him to.
“Wooyoung-ah!” Another girl sits down in front of him. Wooyoung’s talked to her a few times before. “Who’s your new friend?”
“Him?” Wooyoung laughs. “He’s my new bodyguard.” Wooyoung doesn’t love the way she looks at him, eyes scanning his face. It’s the same way he’s been looking at San since this morning.
“Is he single?” She asks.
Wooyoung forces a smile. He has no right to feel jealous, but his skin is itchy. “Nah—he’s married to the job.”
“Ah, okay.” She hands him a copy of his debut album. “Will your next song have a guitar solo?”
Wooyoung smiles. “Yes,” he whispers. “But don’t tell anybody!” He slides the album back across the table. “Thank you for coming!”
The room clears out in two hours. Wooyoung is dizzy, head throbbing like he hasn’t slept in days. “Sannie, let’s get something to eat,” he says. “You promised me dinner.”
San nods. He stares down at the pile of stuffed animals and fan letters. Wooyoung picks up one box, and San grabs the other two. “Wow,” he whispers. “Everyone loves you, Young-ah.”
Wooyoung pecks him on the cheek and San nearly drops everything he’s holding. “You do too, right?”
San flushes, cheeks red like the searing heat of summer. He stutters out an of course! and Wooyoung just cackles.
🍓
“Right this way, San-ah,” Wooyoung says. He leads San down a hallway with vacant conference rooms. He doesn’t hold San’s wrist this time. He laces their fingers together.
“Young-ah, I thought we were getting dinner—”
Wooyoung shuts the door behind them. There’s enough light seeping through the crack in the door, enough for Wooyoung to see San’s pretty face. He smiles sweetly. “Sannie—would you kiss me if I asked nicely?”
San nods. “I’d kiss you no matter what,” he says. It comes out muffled, but Wooyoung hears him loud and clear.
Wooyoung finally wraps his arms around San’s strong shoulders. The size difference between them makes him dizzy. “What are you waiting for, San-ah?”
San gulps. He smells like coffee and summer and it’s intoxicating. “Permission,” he says.
“You’re so cute, Sannie,” he says. “I’m officially giving you permission to kiss me.”
The air between them is thick and syrupy sweet. San rests his big hands on Wooyoung’s waist. Wooyoung feels his every touch like it’s electric. San leans forward and gently presses their lips together.
Kissing San is easy. He gently squeezes Wooyoung’s waist, cards his fingers through his long hair. He slips his tongue between Wooyoung’s lips and holds him tighter when they part for breath.
“Pretty,” San says. “You’re so pretty, Young-ah.”
Wooyoung smiles. “You’re prettier.” He cups San’s cheek and kisses the corner of his mouth. San turns his head and presses their lips together again.
Wooyoung’s heart swells. It’s too easy to lose himself in the feeling of San’s hands on his skin and his tongue in his mouth. It’s perfect. San’s perfect and Wooyoung is on fire.
Wooyoung runs his fingers through San’s soft hair. He toys with the collar of San’s shirt. “How many people have you kissed like that?”
“Just you,” San replies. “I had a cardboard cutout of you in middle school. For practice.”
“When I was on Mickey Mouse Club?” Wooyoung laughs. “You’re so weird.” He tucks himself under San’s chin and squeezes him tightly.
“Weird enough to be your biggest fan,” San says. He rests his hand on the back of Wooyoung’s head.
Wooyoung smiles. “Probably weirder,” he says. He reaches for San’s hand. “But I think you’re awesome.”
San leans forward, rests his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder. “And I know I’m yours.”