[oneshot] don't believe me (just watch)
Title: don't believe me (just watch)
Pairing: bobby/donghyuk
Rating: pg13
Genre: slice-of-life, mild romance
Warnings: n/a
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: bobby gets trapped in a harmless lie. pre-win fic. 2,776 words.
The day Donghyuk joins YG Entertainment, Bobby sprains his ankle. Nothing serious-he just lands wrong when they're practicing flips. One minute he's watching Jaewook demonstrate on the mats, and the next he's flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, leg twisted beneath his body and throbbing from mid-calf down.
At the hospital, the doctor says it's not a big deal, "but stay off it for a few weeks." She prods the ball, hands gentle, and watches Bobby's teeth grind. "Let's make it a month, minimum. Come back next Sunday and we'll see how it's doing then." She gives Bobby a stern look when he rolls his eyes. "I'm not joking. You idol trainees are all the same. Don't make this worse than it has to be."
She sends him home with a brace and a minor arsenal of painkillers. Bobby spends the rest of the afternoon at the dorm, keeping his right foot elevated and watching a backlog of Running Man episodes saved on his computer. Hanbin, when the others come home at dinnertime, is surprisingly okay with everything, which should've been the first warning sign. "These things happen, hyung," he says. He flaps Bobby's half-formed apologies away, a studiously neutral expression on his face as he slides his shoes off, mind clearly elsewhere. "Just get better."
Jinhwan strolls in next, swallowed by his puffy coat. He drops his bag on the floor and walks over to study the swelling around Bobby's ankle. "Did you even ice this yet?" he asks, dry.
"Uh," Bobby says. "Yes?"
"Uh huh," Jinhwan says, rolling his eyes. He pats Bobby's thigh, careful not to jostle the cushions propped beneath it. "I'll go get some for you."
Yunhyeong shuffles over the threshold like a dying man. Bobby almost feels bad for missing the back half of dance practice; they could've sweated it out together. But then Yunhyeong shuffles out of the doorway, and an unfamiliar face peers in, cautious and uncertain. Every other thought that had been forming in Bobby's head scatters with a vicious and complete immediacy.
"New trainee," Junhwe grunts, pushing inside past the other guy and making a beeline for the kitchen.
"Hi," the kid says, pulling two suitcases inside behind him. He's about Jinhwan's height. Wears a thick beanie over his bowlcut and has the most tapered jaw Bobby's ever seen. When he sheds his jacket, he's skinny as hell. "I'm Kim Donghyuk." His voice is soft and thin. He doesn't really seem comfortable against the backdrop of the dorm yet, but he smiles back at Bobby's grin. It's a good start.
"What's up? I'm Bobby. Dope earrings."
Donghyuk boggles a little when Jinhwan comes back out with a plastic bag of ice cubes wrapped in a paper towel. Bobby accepts the offering and presses it to the golf ball sized swell of his right ankle, hissing as the ice numbs the pain beating beneath his skin. "Take breaks every half an hour," Jinhwan advises, squeezing Bobby's shoulder. "Don't get frostbite. Donghyuk, wait here for a second. We'll go set up the empty bunk."
Donghyuk bobs his head. His fingers tighten around the handle of a suitcase.
Poor guy. Bobby remembers the disorientation of being in a foreign place very well. When Jinhwan's gone, he props his elbows up on the armrest beneath his head and gestures at the empty space it leaves on the other end of the couch. Donghyuk sits down dutifully. His hands fold in his lap. Pretty cute. He's probably a good kid. Bobby's never really enjoyed extended periods of silence, always needs to fill them with something: random chatter, weird bodily noises like those armpit farts Junhwe complains about, music blasting through his earphones. He's good at talking to people, and Donghyuk seems to respond well to the impromptu interrogation. He's sixteen, from Seoul, was raised by his mom after his dad passed, and is also some sort of dance prodigy.
"Oh, word?" Bobby says, unthinking. Donghyuk is already helping him press the makeshift ice pack to his ankle, miles more at home than he was ten minutes ago. He reciprocates when Bobby holds his hand out for a fist bump. "That's awesome. I'm fucking great at dancing, too. When my ankle's better, I'll show you."
It's a simple enough lie. Or-it would've been, but it becomes clear over the next week that Donghyuk is the type of earnest dongsaeng who holds everyone to their word. After that first night, Donghyuk sticks to him like glue. Bobby doesn't mind much. It's kind of cool, having this kid following him around and hanging on to everything he says. He certainly accepts Bobby's brand of physical affection with more grace than Junhwe ever did, though that might just be because Donghyuk doesn't want to fuck up his ankle again. Either way: sweet kid.
And then, at their next practice, he sees Donghyuk dance.
Jaewook asks him to run a basic choreographed routine, so he can assess Donghyuk's foundational skills. Donghyuk scrolls through the iPod connected to the speakers and selects something with a quick tempo and heavy beat. At the center of the room, he snaps into position. Bobby's mouth goes dry just watching him move. Everything's fluid but crisply precise. Donghyuk's body does everything he wants it to and more. By the end of the routine he's panting a bit, fingers flicking through his sweaty bangs. Out of some sense of politeness, he bows toward where they're lined up on the bench. They clap, Bobby whooping over the applause, because what else is there to do?
"You're really good," Jaewook says, tapping his cheek. He's smiling. Even Hanbin, notoriously difficult to please, looks satisfied.
Bobby repeats the sentiment when they take a break for water, and Donghyuk beams, eyes crinkling into slits. "Thanks, hyung, but I still have a lot to learn. I'm excited to watch you. Later, though." He gestures at the brace wrapped around Bobby's foot. Most of the swelling's gone down, but it's still stiff as hell. Hanbin's monthly evaluation choreography is gonna have to find a creative way to include him without making it obvious he can't do shit.
Bobby reaches out to ruffle Donghyuk's hair, laughs to hide the way his stomach sinks. "Yeah. Sure thing, kid."
"So," Hanbin says, crossing his legs, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "We got the new trainee. That makes six."
The weekly studio powwow seems more relaxed than usual, but Bobby probably only feels that way because his bare feet are on the desk and Hanbin isn't making him take them off for once. Jinhwan slides a hand through his hair and props his elbow against Bobby's shoulder. "He's a nice kid, Donghyuk. Easygoing. He seemed nervous at vocal lessons, but we can work on that."
"He's really good at dancing, too," Bobby puts in. "I think he'll fit in well."
Hanbin snorts. "You're just saying that because he imprinted on you, hyung. Like a baby duck." He scribbles something down on his notebook and then points the pencil at Bobby's face. "Don't lie. You totally like that he follows you around everywhere."
"I-" Bobby shrugs, grinning. "Shut up, Hanbin. You're just jealous."
Jinhwan digs the elbow deeper into his shoulder. "What did you say to him, anyway?"
Bobby screws his face up. "Nothing."
Hanbin balls up a piece of paper and tosses it at him. "Spill."
"I, uh, may or may not have told him that I'm good at dancing." Hanbin stares at him, mouth twitching. "What? I wanted to give him something we could bond over, you know? He seemed to like it. Except now I guess he wants me to be his Mr. Miyagi."
Jinhwan hums thoughtfully. "Well, you aren't bad at dancing."
Bobby coughs into his hand, ears burning, and mumbles, "I may have said I was fucking great at dancing."
Hanbin almost falls out of his chair laughing. "Good luck with that, hyung."
"It wasn't even really a lie, just an embellishment," Bobby whines. "Can we just work on the arrangement? Stop wasting time, play the song again."
"Just tell him the truth," Jinhwan advises. He pats Bobby's nape, fingers sliding up to scratch at his hair as Big Bang's Lies filters through the speakers, stripped completely of percussion. The colossal irony isn't lost on him. "It's not that serious. He doesn't look like the type to hold it against you."
The real problem, though, is that Hanbin is totally right. Bobby does enjoy having someone look up to him, especially someone as nice as Donghyuk, who has taken to waiting for him after practice so they can walk home together and helping Bobby with his ankle stretching exercises after the brace comes off for good. Never mind that most of Donghyuk's budding hero worship is built upon a tiny white lie that decided to blow up in Bobby's face. He can deal with that when the time comes. Hopefully it'll be before Bobby actually has to dance in front of him.
In the meantime, he splits most of his time between the studio and rap practice, trying to stomp out his bad habit of slurring punch lines. Some evenings he hobbles home late with Hanbin and finds Donghyuk still awake, perched on a chair staring out the living room window. Homesickness, maybe, or just bouts of teenage insomnia. Bobby takes a look at Hanbin's weary face and mutters, "I got it." Turns out Donghyuk really likes warm milk and the feeling of someone's hand threading through his hair, Bobby's voice lulling him to sleep on the couch. Even with a crick in his neck from the armrest, Donghyuk always seems particularly well rested the next morning.
At the next check-up in mid-December, the doctor prescribes him another two weeks of maintenance exercises. "Ease back into it slowly," she says, which Hanbin takes to mean full speed ahead. Of course, Bobby's first official practice back, he tries to do a simple torso twist on the floor and ends up pulling his hamstring.
"Don't hurt yourself again, hyung," Donghyuk says, zooming over, eyes wide. "You're not 100% yet.
"Right," Bobby says weakly, and lets Donghyuk help him up.
The rest of practice goes as smoothly as Bobby expects it to. He stays on the sidelines trying to mirror Hanbin's movements and shuffles closer to the mirror when it comes time to do his rap. That part comes easy, like it always does, the microphone a comforting weight in the palm of his hand. Over a month of rest has made him slower than usual, less attuned to the way his limbs should move. He'll have to hit the gym again with Master Hwang to get it back.
Even with Bobby rapping from a shopping cart the whole performance, they do well enough in the monthly evaluation that Hanbin lets them have the last day of 2012 off. Bobby takes the elevator down to the basement of the YG building after evals. He isn't surprised anymore when Donghyuk follows him down. "Wanna spot me?" he asks, stretching out across the bench, and doesn't miss the way Donghyuk's wide eyes follow the trajectory of Bobby's tank shirt as he flings it off to the side.
The burn in his arms after he hits a hundred feels good after so long without. He considers trying for one-fifty, but decides against it. His body is slick with sweat when he sits up again, head spinning from exertion. Donghyuk hands him a towel that Bobby gratefully accepts.
"Your turn," Bobby says, grinning. Donghyuk obliges, slides beneath the bar, arms reaching up to accept the weight. A month later, Donghyuk's still a skinny kid, but Bobby knows better now. His arms have a wiry strength that catapult him up to a hundred-pound bench press twice, three times, no problem. "Nice," Bobby says, setting the bar back on the frame, and Donghyuk blooms beneath the praise, face pink, chest heaving.
It almost comes out, then. Donghyuk hunched over on the bench, trying to catch his breath again, endorphins pumping through his system. No better time, really. But then he grabs the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Bobby catches a flash of Donghyuk's abdomen, smooth and flat, and loses his voice for a minute. In the interim, Donghyuk starts a cheerful conversation about everything he's been learning from the YG vocal trainers, and the opportunity is lost.
They're sent out together on a convenience store run in early January. Bobby is to serve as the distraction while the others set up a small birthday-slash-belated-welcome party in the practice room for the new trainee. Jinhwan peers over Junhwe's shoulder as they leave and waggles his eyebrows meaningfully, which Bobby interprets as either don't forget to buy those barbecue chips Yunhyeong likes or tell him, you idiot.
Bobby trudges into FamilyMart stamping snow out of his boots. Donghyuk rubs his hands together and stares through the glass at the colorful energy drinks.
It's watching him moonwalk down the chip aisle that does it. Funny how these things work. "Hey," Bobby says, picking his way through the other shoppers to get to him. "Donghyukkie, I have something to tell you."
"I know," Donghyuk says without turning. "Yunhyeong-hyung wants barbecue chips and Junhwe wants smoked hickory. They're not the same."
Bobby grins, shaking his head. "Hey, you're learning fast. But it's not about that."
"Yeah? "
He takes a deep breath, heart thumping in his throat, and blurts out, "I'm not actually that great at dancing." Donghyuk finally turns to gaze at him, bemused. "I mean-I told you I was really good at it, and it's been bothering me, because you seem really enthusiastic about getting to watch me show my stuff, but it's not anything special. I'm okay with broader moves, but not good at details. Jinhwan-hyung says I'm too frenetic, or whatever." He shrugs, shifting from foot to foot. The tenderness in his right ankle is long gone by now, but he still feels unsteady. "I just wanted you to know, because I didn't want to lie about it anymore." He scratches the back of his neck. "You would've found out at the next dance practice, anyway."
Donghyuk blinks. "Oh, that?" he says, tilting his head so the hoop in his right ear catches the light. "Junhwe already told me."
"That little-" Bobby cuts himself off, rocks back on his heels, and lets all his breath out in a whoosh. He'd expected something cold. The response, now that he's faced with it, is strangely anticlimactic. Knowing Donghyuk, maybe he should've expected it. For the first time in a while, it's difficult to find the right words through the relief spreading out through his chest. "Okay. Alright."
"I think you're cool anyway, hyung," Donghyuk says, the corners of his mouth lifting. "You don't have to be the best dancer ever to be cool to me." A moment later he grimaces and waves his hand. "And you know that you, like, ooze swag, right? It's kind of distracting."
That wheedles a laugh out of him. "Of course I know. You can tell me all about it later, in detail." He bites his lip, fingers playing with his sleeves. "So you aren't mad about it?"
A pensive look crosses Donghyuk's face. The remains of his smile take on a sharp tinge. "Only if you buy me fish cakes."
Bobby laughs again. He wraps Donghyuk in an easy headlock. The shopping basket swings wildly in Donghyuk's hand, and it jostles the precariously stacked pyramid of Pepero. One of the ahjummas shopping for snacks sends them an offended glare that Bobby happily ignores. "Donghyuk," he says, pulling him to the front of the store. "I'm surprised at you. I didn't think you were capable of such blackmail."
"There's a lot you don't know about me, hyung," Donghyuk says, muffled through the fabric of Bobby's coat. His face is pink, hair horribly mussed, when Bobby lets go to pay and Donghyuk comes back up for air. "I could help you," he offers. When Bobby looks at him again, there's no hint of pretense on his face. Just a sort of anticipatory eagerness, an indomitable drive to do well. To prove himself. The last dredges of whatever tentative restraint he'd brought with him on that first day have been blown clean out of the water. Bobby grins. Donghyuk really will fit right in here. "With the dancing thing, I mean. We can learn together."
"I'd like that," Bobby says, just the plain and simple truth this time, and hands him the steaming cup of fish cake.
fin
A/N: FORGIVE ME as i cannot seem to stop titling things with uptown funk lyrics. i will get over this phase soon i promise
Pairing: bobby/donghyuk
Rating: pg13
Genre: slice-of-life, mild romance
Warnings: n/a
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: bobby gets trapped in a harmless lie. pre-win fic. 2,776 words.
The day Donghyuk joins YG Entertainment, Bobby sprains his ankle. Nothing serious-he just lands wrong when they're practicing flips. One minute he's watching Jaewook demonstrate on the mats, and the next he's flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, leg twisted beneath his body and throbbing from mid-calf down.
At the hospital, the doctor says it's not a big deal, "but stay off it for a few weeks." She prods the ball, hands gentle, and watches Bobby's teeth grind. "Let's make it a month, minimum. Come back next Sunday and we'll see how it's doing then." She gives Bobby a stern look when he rolls his eyes. "I'm not joking. You idol trainees are all the same. Don't make this worse than it has to be."
She sends him home with a brace and a minor arsenal of painkillers. Bobby spends the rest of the afternoon at the dorm, keeping his right foot elevated and watching a backlog of Running Man episodes saved on his computer. Hanbin, when the others come home at dinnertime, is surprisingly okay with everything, which should've been the first warning sign. "These things happen, hyung," he says. He flaps Bobby's half-formed apologies away, a studiously neutral expression on his face as he slides his shoes off, mind clearly elsewhere. "Just get better."
Jinhwan strolls in next, swallowed by his puffy coat. He drops his bag on the floor and walks over to study the swelling around Bobby's ankle. "Did you even ice this yet?" he asks, dry.
"Uh," Bobby says. "Yes?"
"Uh huh," Jinhwan says, rolling his eyes. He pats Bobby's thigh, careful not to jostle the cushions propped beneath it. "I'll go get some for you."
Yunhyeong shuffles over the threshold like a dying man. Bobby almost feels bad for missing the back half of dance practice; they could've sweated it out together. But then Yunhyeong shuffles out of the doorway, and an unfamiliar face peers in, cautious and uncertain. Every other thought that had been forming in Bobby's head scatters with a vicious and complete immediacy.
"New trainee," Junhwe grunts, pushing inside past the other guy and making a beeline for the kitchen.
"Hi," the kid says, pulling two suitcases inside behind him. He's about Jinhwan's height. Wears a thick beanie over his bowlcut and has the most tapered jaw Bobby's ever seen. When he sheds his jacket, he's skinny as hell. "I'm Kim Donghyuk." His voice is soft and thin. He doesn't really seem comfortable against the backdrop of the dorm yet, but he smiles back at Bobby's grin. It's a good start.
"What's up? I'm Bobby. Dope earrings."
Donghyuk boggles a little when Jinhwan comes back out with a plastic bag of ice cubes wrapped in a paper towel. Bobby accepts the offering and presses it to the golf ball sized swell of his right ankle, hissing as the ice numbs the pain beating beneath his skin. "Take breaks every half an hour," Jinhwan advises, squeezing Bobby's shoulder. "Don't get frostbite. Donghyuk, wait here for a second. We'll go set up the empty bunk."
Donghyuk bobs his head. His fingers tighten around the handle of a suitcase.
Poor guy. Bobby remembers the disorientation of being in a foreign place very well. When Jinhwan's gone, he props his elbows up on the armrest beneath his head and gestures at the empty space it leaves on the other end of the couch. Donghyuk sits down dutifully. His hands fold in his lap. Pretty cute. He's probably a good kid. Bobby's never really enjoyed extended periods of silence, always needs to fill them with something: random chatter, weird bodily noises like those armpit farts Junhwe complains about, music blasting through his earphones. He's good at talking to people, and Donghyuk seems to respond well to the impromptu interrogation. He's sixteen, from Seoul, was raised by his mom after his dad passed, and is also some sort of dance prodigy.
"Oh, word?" Bobby says, unthinking. Donghyuk is already helping him press the makeshift ice pack to his ankle, miles more at home than he was ten minutes ago. He reciprocates when Bobby holds his hand out for a fist bump. "That's awesome. I'm fucking great at dancing, too. When my ankle's better, I'll show you."
It's a simple enough lie. Or-it would've been, but it becomes clear over the next week that Donghyuk is the type of earnest dongsaeng who holds everyone to their word. After that first night, Donghyuk sticks to him like glue. Bobby doesn't mind much. It's kind of cool, having this kid following him around and hanging on to everything he says. He certainly accepts Bobby's brand of physical affection with more grace than Junhwe ever did, though that might just be because Donghyuk doesn't want to fuck up his ankle again. Either way: sweet kid.
And then, at their next practice, he sees Donghyuk dance.
Jaewook asks him to run a basic choreographed routine, so he can assess Donghyuk's foundational skills. Donghyuk scrolls through the iPod connected to the speakers and selects something with a quick tempo and heavy beat. At the center of the room, he snaps into position. Bobby's mouth goes dry just watching him move. Everything's fluid but crisply precise. Donghyuk's body does everything he wants it to and more. By the end of the routine he's panting a bit, fingers flicking through his sweaty bangs. Out of some sense of politeness, he bows toward where they're lined up on the bench. They clap, Bobby whooping over the applause, because what else is there to do?
"You're really good," Jaewook says, tapping his cheek. He's smiling. Even Hanbin, notoriously difficult to please, looks satisfied.
Bobby repeats the sentiment when they take a break for water, and Donghyuk beams, eyes crinkling into slits. "Thanks, hyung, but I still have a lot to learn. I'm excited to watch you. Later, though." He gestures at the brace wrapped around Bobby's foot. Most of the swelling's gone down, but it's still stiff as hell. Hanbin's monthly evaluation choreography is gonna have to find a creative way to include him without making it obvious he can't do shit.
Bobby reaches out to ruffle Donghyuk's hair, laughs to hide the way his stomach sinks. "Yeah. Sure thing, kid."
"So," Hanbin says, crossing his legs, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "We got the new trainee. That makes six."
The weekly studio powwow seems more relaxed than usual, but Bobby probably only feels that way because his bare feet are on the desk and Hanbin isn't making him take them off for once. Jinhwan slides a hand through his hair and props his elbow against Bobby's shoulder. "He's a nice kid, Donghyuk. Easygoing. He seemed nervous at vocal lessons, but we can work on that."
"He's really good at dancing, too," Bobby puts in. "I think he'll fit in well."
Hanbin snorts. "You're just saying that because he imprinted on you, hyung. Like a baby duck." He scribbles something down on his notebook and then points the pencil at Bobby's face. "Don't lie. You totally like that he follows you around everywhere."
"I-" Bobby shrugs, grinning. "Shut up, Hanbin. You're just jealous."
Jinhwan digs the elbow deeper into his shoulder. "What did you say to him, anyway?"
Bobby screws his face up. "Nothing."
Hanbin balls up a piece of paper and tosses it at him. "Spill."
"I, uh, may or may not have told him that I'm good at dancing." Hanbin stares at him, mouth twitching. "What? I wanted to give him something we could bond over, you know? He seemed to like it. Except now I guess he wants me to be his Mr. Miyagi."
Jinhwan hums thoughtfully. "Well, you aren't bad at dancing."
Bobby coughs into his hand, ears burning, and mumbles, "I may have said I was fucking great at dancing."
Hanbin almost falls out of his chair laughing. "Good luck with that, hyung."
"It wasn't even really a lie, just an embellishment," Bobby whines. "Can we just work on the arrangement? Stop wasting time, play the song again."
"Just tell him the truth," Jinhwan advises. He pats Bobby's nape, fingers sliding up to scratch at his hair as Big Bang's Lies filters through the speakers, stripped completely of percussion. The colossal irony isn't lost on him. "It's not that serious. He doesn't look like the type to hold it against you."
The real problem, though, is that Hanbin is totally right. Bobby does enjoy having someone look up to him, especially someone as nice as Donghyuk, who has taken to waiting for him after practice so they can walk home together and helping Bobby with his ankle stretching exercises after the brace comes off for good. Never mind that most of Donghyuk's budding hero worship is built upon a tiny white lie that decided to blow up in Bobby's face. He can deal with that when the time comes. Hopefully it'll be before Bobby actually has to dance in front of him.
In the meantime, he splits most of his time between the studio and rap practice, trying to stomp out his bad habit of slurring punch lines. Some evenings he hobbles home late with Hanbin and finds Donghyuk still awake, perched on a chair staring out the living room window. Homesickness, maybe, or just bouts of teenage insomnia. Bobby takes a look at Hanbin's weary face and mutters, "I got it." Turns out Donghyuk really likes warm milk and the feeling of someone's hand threading through his hair, Bobby's voice lulling him to sleep on the couch. Even with a crick in his neck from the armrest, Donghyuk always seems particularly well rested the next morning.
At the next check-up in mid-December, the doctor prescribes him another two weeks of maintenance exercises. "Ease back into it slowly," she says, which Hanbin takes to mean full speed ahead. Of course, Bobby's first official practice back, he tries to do a simple torso twist on the floor and ends up pulling his hamstring.
"Don't hurt yourself again, hyung," Donghyuk says, zooming over, eyes wide. "You're not 100% yet.
"Right," Bobby says weakly, and lets Donghyuk help him up.
The rest of practice goes as smoothly as Bobby expects it to. He stays on the sidelines trying to mirror Hanbin's movements and shuffles closer to the mirror when it comes time to do his rap. That part comes easy, like it always does, the microphone a comforting weight in the palm of his hand. Over a month of rest has made him slower than usual, less attuned to the way his limbs should move. He'll have to hit the gym again with Master Hwang to get it back.
Even with Bobby rapping from a shopping cart the whole performance, they do well enough in the monthly evaluation that Hanbin lets them have the last day of 2012 off. Bobby takes the elevator down to the basement of the YG building after evals. He isn't surprised anymore when Donghyuk follows him down. "Wanna spot me?" he asks, stretching out across the bench, and doesn't miss the way Donghyuk's wide eyes follow the trajectory of Bobby's tank shirt as he flings it off to the side.
The burn in his arms after he hits a hundred feels good after so long without. He considers trying for one-fifty, but decides against it. His body is slick with sweat when he sits up again, head spinning from exertion. Donghyuk hands him a towel that Bobby gratefully accepts.
"Your turn," Bobby says, grinning. Donghyuk obliges, slides beneath the bar, arms reaching up to accept the weight. A month later, Donghyuk's still a skinny kid, but Bobby knows better now. His arms have a wiry strength that catapult him up to a hundred-pound bench press twice, three times, no problem. "Nice," Bobby says, setting the bar back on the frame, and Donghyuk blooms beneath the praise, face pink, chest heaving.
It almost comes out, then. Donghyuk hunched over on the bench, trying to catch his breath again, endorphins pumping through his system. No better time, really. But then he grabs the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Bobby catches a flash of Donghyuk's abdomen, smooth and flat, and loses his voice for a minute. In the interim, Donghyuk starts a cheerful conversation about everything he's been learning from the YG vocal trainers, and the opportunity is lost.
They're sent out together on a convenience store run in early January. Bobby is to serve as the distraction while the others set up a small birthday-slash-belated-welcome party in the practice room for the new trainee. Jinhwan peers over Junhwe's shoulder as they leave and waggles his eyebrows meaningfully, which Bobby interprets as either don't forget to buy those barbecue chips Yunhyeong likes or tell him, you idiot.
Bobby trudges into FamilyMart stamping snow out of his boots. Donghyuk rubs his hands together and stares through the glass at the colorful energy drinks.
It's watching him moonwalk down the chip aisle that does it. Funny how these things work. "Hey," Bobby says, picking his way through the other shoppers to get to him. "Donghyukkie, I have something to tell you."
"I know," Donghyuk says without turning. "Yunhyeong-hyung wants barbecue chips and Junhwe wants smoked hickory. They're not the same."
Bobby grins, shaking his head. "Hey, you're learning fast. But it's not about that."
"Yeah? "
He takes a deep breath, heart thumping in his throat, and blurts out, "I'm not actually that great at dancing." Donghyuk finally turns to gaze at him, bemused. "I mean-I told you I was really good at it, and it's been bothering me, because you seem really enthusiastic about getting to watch me show my stuff, but it's not anything special. I'm okay with broader moves, but not good at details. Jinhwan-hyung says I'm too frenetic, or whatever." He shrugs, shifting from foot to foot. The tenderness in his right ankle is long gone by now, but he still feels unsteady. "I just wanted you to know, because I didn't want to lie about it anymore." He scratches the back of his neck. "You would've found out at the next dance practice, anyway."
Donghyuk blinks. "Oh, that?" he says, tilting his head so the hoop in his right ear catches the light. "Junhwe already told me."
"That little-" Bobby cuts himself off, rocks back on his heels, and lets all his breath out in a whoosh. He'd expected something cold. The response, now that he's faced with it, is strangely anticlimactic. Knowing Donghyuk, maybe he should've expected it. For the first time in a while, it's difficult to find the right words through the relief spreading out through his chest. "Okay. Alright."
"I think you're cool anyway, hyung," Donghyuk says, the corners of his mouth lifting. "You don't have to be the best dancer ever to be cool to me." A moment later he grimaces and waves his hand. "And you know that you, like, ooze swag, right? It's kind of distracting."
That wheedles a laugh out of him. "Of course I know. You can tell me all about it later, in detail." He bites his lip, fingers playing with his sleeves. "So you aren't mad about it?"
A pensive look crosses Donghyuk's face. The remains of his smile take on a sharp tinge. "Only if you buy me fish cakes."
Bobby laughs again. He wraps Donghyuk in an easy headlock. The shopping basket swings wildly in Donghyuk's hand, and it jostles the precariously stacked pyramid of Pepero. One of the ahjummas shopping for snacks sends them an offended glare that Bobby happily ignores. "Donghyuk," he says, pulling him to the front of the store. "I'm surprised at you. I didn't think you were capable of such blackmail."
"There's a lot you don't know about me, hyung," Donghyuk says, muffled through the fabric of Bobby's coat. His face is pink, hair horribly mussed, when Bobby lets go to pay and Donghyuk comes back up for air. "I could help you," he offers. When Bobby looks at him again, there's no hint of pretense on his face. Just a sort of anticipatory eagerness, an indomitable drive to do well. To prove himself. The last dredges of whatever tentative restraint he'd brought with him on that first day have been blown clean out of the water. Bobby grins. Donghyuk really will fit right in here. "With the dancing thing, I mean. We can learn together."
"I'd like that," Bobby says, just the plain and simple truth this time, and hands him the steaming cup of fish cake.
fin
A/N: FORGIVE ME as i cannot seem to stop titling things with uptown funk lyrics. i will get over this phase soon i promise