Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Jun
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: miscommunication, ambiguously unhappy ending, canonverse
Permission to remix: Yes

***

[SEVENTEEN / ENG TRANS] COMEBACK SHOW
🐱 For me, I think it’s Wonwoo
🍊 Wonwoo is your ideal type?
🐱 What? I misunderstood the question!


Wonwoo finds Jun outside, sitting on a bench by the door that leads from the parking garage into the company building. He twists to look up at Wonwoo as the door latches closed with a soft beep.

“I misunderstood the question,” Jun says. “My Korean sucks. Sorry I embarrassed you.”

He turns back to face the rows of vans as Wonwoo sits down next to him. “It’s fine. You didn’t.”

An uncomfortable silence expands between them. Wonwoo’s gaze falls on a smear of makeup at the corner of Jun’s sweater, and drags up to the side of his face. His make-up has started to separate a little, revealing the faintest five o’clock shadow. His hair hangs over his eyes, obscuring them from Wonwoo’s view.

“The fans will go crazy for it,” Jun says, laughing a little.

The sound buoys Wonwoo, and he knocks his shoulder into Jun’s. “You always have good instincts for shows,” he says.

After the recording ended, Jun had avoided him, sticking closer to Minghao than usual and grinning without faltering, like he had something to prove. Wonwoo fears he might be arrogant to think it had anything to do with his gaffe, but. He thinks that.

He wishes he knew what to say, though. He swallows, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, but his mouth is dry.

Jun leans back and rests his head against the concrete wall. His hair, stiff with hairspray, poofs up behind his head. “Minghao asked me if I was serious. Isn’t that funny?”

Wonwoo shrugs. What he’d give for a beer or a cigarette, even though he quit, but just—something to do with his hands right now. “I don’t think it’s funny.”

Jun barks out a laugh and turns on the bench, pulling up one knee and resting his chin on it. “You’re just trying to be nice,” Jun says with a toothy grin. “It’s hilarious!”

Wonwoo searches Jun’s face for any betrayal of hurt feelings, but finds none. His smile shines brightly, a laugh twitching at the corners, and his eyes twinkle with amusement.

Oblivious to the silence, Jun keeps talking. “I mean, you’re not even my type. And you know what they say, don’t sit where you shit or whatever.”

“Don’t eat where you shit,” Wonwoo corrects.

Jun looks at him sidelong and laughs again. “Right. Exactly. See what I mean? We’re not even compatriable.”

Wonwoo bites his tongue to keep from correcting him—it’s close enough. The meaning is clear; Jun doesn’t think the compatibility is there. The one time they’d kissed they’d been drunk, anyway, and it was as a joke—wouldn’t it be funny if we kissed right now—though Wonwoo has never been able to figure out the punchline.

Wonwoo unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Well, like you said, the fans will like it.”

“I’ll have to think about what to say,” Jun continues, “If they ask me about it when I go live. Are you going back inside, by the way?”

“Yeah, I’ll follow you in a minute.” Wonwoo answers.

Jun hesitates, kicking his feet back and forth against the concrete. He looks like he wants to say something. Wonwoo can’t think of any words, but he wishes Jun would.

Finally, Jun gets up and goes back into the building. Wonwoo is left alone.

He leans his head back against the wall. Maybe he’s been the butt of this joke all along.