Ship/Member: Jun/Yanan, Jun & Minghao Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: Passion and love at the wrong times. Set in a canon where Yanan (and Pentagon) see a lot more success. Permission to remix: Yes
"Who the fuck dubbed him?" Minghao blurts out the moment Yanan's character speaks onscreen.
"Same guy who did Zhao-zhao apparently," Jun answers, still half-asleep, his head lolling on the head of the couch in their dorm.
To the untrained ear—rather to anyone who hadn't heard Yanan speak in actual person—it sounded like him enough. Inflection was intentional which meant it was off, because the last time Minghao had heard Yanan speak, it was on stage; he'd given the acceptance speech on behalf of Pentagon in Mandarin for an award show. Even through the courteous professionalism, he sounded perfectly happy. It'd been so late in the game for them; Yanan was in Korea for the stage and award acceptance, and in a few days he'd dipped back to Beijing for another drama casting.
The web drama they're watching right now is something long overdue, to Minghao. Jun has watched it twice since its release earlier in the spring. To the untrained eye, that isn't anything new—Jun folded himself comfortably in front of their flat screen whenever some of them turned it on to view some variety episode any of his acquaintances and friends guested on. But Minghao notices that Jun isn't really watching anymore, probably hasn't been this whole time.
Chao Yin Zhan Ji didn't really have a high viewer rating in the first place. It was a friendly competitive show, a competitive show of stage collaboration that was meant to consist of a balanced roster of musicians and performers, except no one really gave a shit about the idols that were on it. Zhou Zhennan was the exception because he'd come in first place.
The irony of it was nearly forgotten about because Zhennan had considered pairing up with either Jun or Yanan somewhere, though he'd never said that in front of the cameras for the talking head segments.
"You're pitting them against each other? Seems brave," Samuel commented in Korean thoughtfully, which Minghao faltered to translate for Zhou Zhennan because he was already responding in English, "They both have the same type of voices; it's a competition." Also, because you don't go through hell and back retaining what you'd learned as a foreign trainee in JYP for a few years; Jun ran down Zhou Zhennan's idol resume for Minghao on the way to Beijing. Minghao had considered earlier on that maybe he'd get to know Zhennan better.
Meanwhile, Jun's strategy was entirely different.
"That's not a strategy," Minghao said. "Yanan doesn't have a clue as to what he's doing."
"I think the audience might see the charm with two bumbling performers willing to grow, right?" Jun shrugged, padding around barefoot in the dead of the night after the camera crew left and Wu Jiacheng finally called it a day and left their room. "Now, if I don't find my phone to make a call, I'll be screwed for real."
"Woozi-hyung is a good strategy. I'll take back what I said," Minghao said, throwing him his phone.
They'd been good for their first performance. It was theatrics—gave them space to play around in, in a sandbox they liked. Yanan had already made his decision to step out of the show then, and Minghao only knows because he'd stumbled upon him and Wu Jiacheng's smoke break.
"Jun already knows," Yanan said, holding Minghao's gaze when he opened his mouth to say something.
"Ah. Good, then," was all Minghao could say, then, "We're with you on this, man."
The scene edited was the most moving thing on the entire show yet. Jun, for all his enthusiasm and loud-mouthed outward exterior of being carefree, took things in good stride while Yanan spoke carefully, softly. His decisiveness was admirable, and Jun's kindness shone through. Nothing about that part was staged.
Yanan used to drop by the studio room when they had time to mess around and gather together after filming takes. Whenever Jun laughed, Yanan just couldn't stop looking at him, something pensive in his expression.
"You're conflicted," Jun spelled out for Minghao, eyes wide that made Minghao feel like he was 12 years old and being talked down. Jun was older, but still, and that had never really mattered anyway.
"Conflicted about whatever you're thinking about doing now we're in China," Minghao says. Yanan had been there filming for another drama that had seen moderate success which, for an idol actor, was success huge enough in China. He'd be heading back to Seoul in a few weeks.
"Just two long-time brothers, meeting up for old times' sake because—why not. You think paparazzi will want to get a load of that?" Jun counters, patiently.
"I hate you both," Minghao deadpans, and Jun is already puckering his mouth with a light smack of his lips through video call, separated one wall away during their quarantine in their Beijing hotel.
During the filming of Chao Yin Zhan Ji, Jun had been—there was no other way to put it—sticky. He'd looked up at Yanan with something that felt like sugar melted between teeth, unmistakeable, palpable enough to potentially churn a stomach after too much cake. After that, Yanan had kept true to his word, and hung out a bit when he'd gotten back to Seoul, for the better longer period when he'd said he would stop worrying people around him. Minghao had thought nothing of it at first—but Jun had dragged him along in place of Qian Kun, who'd turned down his invitation to hang out with a few friends, being holed up for the millionth time in SM's studios. And well—the moment Minghao saw the look on Yanan's face when his eyes found Jun at their haidilao table, Minghao almost spat out his beer.
"There's nothing between us," Jun announces around a mouthful of pork ribs, apropos of nothing beside Minghao in their hotel room, a month into their time back in China. Minghao had eaten enough; he can barely move.
"What," Minghao says.
"Me and Yanan."
"Mmm," Minghao just responds cleverly, brain catching up through the post-food haze. Usually, he could only ever eat ths much if it was with his mother. That was exactly how he uploaded douyins of them together, not that he complained much. "You guys are done? Why?"
"It was just...a bad idea in the first place," Jun settles on, with a small frown on his sharp features.
It was easy enough to understand, all things considered: Yanan's first webdrama had garnered him enough of a fanbase to catapult him to getting more roles. His members joked once on a live to follow the group's official Weibo account, not just Yanan's. It was nothing short of a miracle to people who weren't fans, that Yanan was coming back to Korea each and every time Pentagon had a comeback to record for it but that was definitely one of the things Jun shared with him in innate understanding. Shinwon and Kino spoke about Yanan the way Seventeen spoke about Jun and Minghao now that they're abroad. You kind of just don't really forget about the people who helped raised you and corrected you for fluency.
XCSS as a label was just as good as their Korean counterpart for keeping their artistes' private lives and relationships on a tight leash, but Jun's reasons were casual enough: it didn't make sense to keep it up, Yanan couldn't afford to keep taking risks like that, and well—Jun's career in China needed to take off again after years of being out of it. Either way, he's taking it well. Maybe he really was good enough an actor as he hopes to show.
"You know, he might not say yes to the casting. Noise marketing, and all that," Jun says, scrolling through his phone. There was this variety show that had decent ratings and coverage, that Jun and Minghao were invited to. Of course it'd been spread over the Internet that Pentagon's Yan An, could be guesting as well.
"He hasn't told you," Minghao says.
"Ah. No."
"How often do you still talk?"
Jun glances at him then. "Often."
Yanan on the show feels a little bit like talking to stiff cardboard in between the dead air during filming, for someone unused to variety and coming on alone.
Minghao being bound at the hip with Jun by company decision for these things, would have never been able to stop him from making his own decisions.
"Talk as in, you were still sleeping with him?" Minghao finally asks, over a glass of wine later on in a small night bar a few days later. Their new manager is out of earshot, trying to order himself something off the menu at the bar to keep himself awake to be able to drive later.
Jun doesn't even need alcohol to be honest. "I know I shouldn't."
"Jesus Christ." People around them had always known, but the tense is what does it. "Still?"
"It was a mistake."
"What the fuck."
"I said—"
"Exactly. So stop." Jun continues to frown over his glass. "You can't keep doing this."
Jun rubs the spot between his brows, shoulders deflated. "You've seen the all the movies, right? The ones you can't forget." The ones that didn't really make you cry but stayed with people long enough through generations with big names behind them. No one could really make movies about two male leads anymore, and have it screen for award nominations. People like Wang Yibo got lucky in a whirlwind of just two years for his shot at superstar fame. "They don't tell you all the good parts about the people you really like. Just the endings," Jun says, unusually calm. It only reminds Minghao that Jun really is older, if only by a year. But still. "I know it'll stop soon. It has to."
Until then—Minghao downs the rest of his wine. "You're brave."
"You're being nice now?"
"Well, stupid," Minghao finishes, raising his hand for the tab.
The next time Yanan's name makes rounds on the Internet, it's next to a girl's name. A small-time actress who'd emerged onto the scene and saw decent praise for her performance as the female lead to Yanan's character on a heart-wrenching coming of age movie. The news of their rumoured relationship was released days before the award show in Korea. When Yanan stepped down with the rest of his group off the stage after Pentagon's acceptance speech, he kept his eyes ahead of him.
[FILL] your dreams in your hands
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Passion and love at the wrong times. Set in a canon where Yanan (and Pentagon) see a lot more success.
Permission to remix: Yes
"Who the fuck dubbed him?" Minghao blurts out the moment Yanan's character speaks onscreen.
"Same guy who did Zhao-zhao apparently," Jun answers, still half-asleep, his head lolling on the head of the couch in their dorm.
To the untrained ear—rather to anyone who hadn't heard Yanan speak in actual person—it sounded like him enough. Inflection was intentional which meant it was off, because the last time Minghao had heard Yanan speak, it was on stage; he'd given the acceptance speech on behalf of Pentagon in Mandarin for an award show. Even through the courteous professionalism, he sounded perfectly happy. It'd been so late in the game for them; Yanan was in Korea for the stage and award acceptance, and in a few days he'd dipped back to Beijing for another drama casting.
The web drama they're watching right now is something long overdue, to Minghao. Jun has watched it twice since its release earlier in the spring. To the untrained eye, that isn't anything new—Jun folded himself comfortably in front of their flat screen whenever some of them turned it on to view some variety episode any of his acquaintances and friends guested on. But Minghao notices that Jun isn't really watching anymore, probably hasn't been this whole time.
Chao Yin Zhan Ji didn't really have a high viewer rating in the first place. It was a friendly competitive show, a competitive show of stage collaboration that was meant to consist of a balanced roster of musicians and performers, except no one really gave a shit about the idols that were on it. Zhou Zhennan was the exception because he'd come in first place.
The irony of it was nearly forgotten about because Zhennan had considered pairing up with either Jun or Yanan somewhere, though he'd never said that in front of the cameras for the talking head segments.
"You're pitting them against each other? Seems brave," Samuel commented in Korean thoughtfully, which Minghao faltered to translate for Zhou Zhennan because he was already responding in English, "They both have the same type of voices; it's a competition." Also, because you don't go through hell and back retaining what you'd learned as a foreign trainee in JYP for a few years; Jun ran down Zhou Zhennan's idol resume for Minghao on the way to Beijing. Minghao had considered earlier on that maybe he'd get to know Zhennan better.
Meanwhile, Jun's strategy was entirely different.
"That's not a strategy," Minghao said. "Yanan doesn't have a clue as to what he's doing."
"I think the audience might see the charm with two bumbling performers willing to grow, right?" Jun shrugged, padding around barefoot in the dead of the night after the camera crew left and Wu Jiacheng finally called it a day and left their room. "Now, if I don't find my phone to make a call, I'll be screwed for real."
"Woozi-hyung is a good strategy. I'll take back what I said," Minghao said, throwing him his phone.
They'd been good for their first performance. It was theatrics—gave them space to play around in, in a sandbox they liked. Yanan had already made his decision to step out of the show then, and Minghao only knows because he'd stumbled upon him and Wu Jiacheng's smoke break.
"Jun already knows," Yanan said, holding Minghao's gaze when he opened his mouth to say something.
"Ah. Good, then," was all Minghao could say, then, "We're with you on this, man."
Yanan didn't smile back. "I'll announce it, properly." Formally, he means.
The scene edited was the most moving thing on the entire show yet. Jun, for all his enthusiasm and loud-mouthed outward exterior of being carefree, took things in good stride while Yanan spoke carefully, softly. His decisiveness was admirable, and Jun's kindness shone through. Nothing about that part was staged.
Yanan used to drop by the studio room when they had time to mess around and gather together after filming takes. Whenever Jun laughed, Yanan just couldn't stop looking at him, something pensive in his expression.
"You're conflicted," Jun spelled out for Minghao, eyes wide that made Minghao feel like he was 12 years old and being talked down. Jun was older, but still, and that had never really mattered anyway.
"Conflicted about whatever you're thinking about doing now we're in China," Minghao says. Yanan had been there filming for another drama that had seen moderate success which, for an idol actor, was success huge enough in China. He'd be heading back to Seoul in a few weeks.
"Just two long-time brothers, meeting up for old times' sake because—why not. You think paparazzi will want to get a load of that?" Jun counters, patiently.
"I hate you both," Minghao deadpans, and Jun is already puckering his mouth with a light smack of his lips through video call, separated one wall away during their quarantine in their Beijing hotel.
During the filming of Chao Yin Zhan Ji, Jun had been—there was no other way to put it—sticky. He'd looked up at Yanan with something that felt like sugar melted between teeth, unmistakeable, palpable enough to potentially churn a stomach after too much cake. After that, Yanan had kept true to his word, and hung out a bit when he'd gotten back to Seoul, for the better longer period when he'd said he would stop worrying people around him. Minghao had thought nothing of it at first—but Jun had dragged him along in place of Qian Kun, who'd turned down his invitation to hang out with a few friends, being holed up for the millionth time in SM's studios. And well—the moment Minghao saw the look on Yanan's face when his eyes found Jun at their haidilao table, Minghao almost spat out his beer.
"There's nothing between us," Jun announces around a mouthful of pork ribs, apropos of nothing beside Minghao in their hotel room, a month into their time back in China. Minghao had eaten enough; he can barely move.
"What," Minghao says.
"Me and Yanan."
"Mmm," Minghao just responds cleverly, brain catching up through the post-food haze. Usually, he could only ever eat ths much if it was with his mother. That was exactly how he uploaded douyins of them together, not that he complained much. "You guys are done? Why?"
"It was just...a bad idea in the first place," Jun settles on, with a small frown on his sharp features.
It was easy enough to understand, all things considered: Yanan's first webdrama had garnered him enough of a fanbase to catapult him to getting more roles. His members joked once on a live to follow the group's official Weibo account, not just Yanan's. It was nothing short of a miracle to people who weren't fans, that Yanan was coming back to Korea each and every time Pentagon had a comeback to record for it but that was definitely one of the things Jun shared with him in innate understanding. Shinwon and Kino spoke about Yanan the way Seventeen spoke about Jun and Minghao now that they're abroad. You kind of just don't really forget about the people who helped raised you and corrected you for fluency.
XCSS as a label was just as good as their Korean counterpart for keeping their artistes' private lives and relationships on a tight leash, but Jun's reasons were casual enough: it didn't make sense to keep it up, Yanan couldn't afford to keep taking risks like that, and well—Jun's career in China needed to take off again after years of being out of it. Either way, he's taking it well. Maybe he really was good enough an actor as he hopes to show.
"You know, he might not say yes to the casting. Noise marketing, and all that," Jun says, scrolling through his phone. There was this variety show that had decent ratings and coverage, that Jun and Minghao were invited to. Of course it'd been spread over the Internet that Pentagon's Yan An, could be guesting as well.
"He hasn't told you," Minghao says.
"Ah. No."
"How often do you still talk?"
Jun glances at him then. "Often."
Yanan on the show feels a little bit like talking to stiff cardboard in between the dead air during filming, for someone unused to variety and coming on alone.
Minghao being bound at the hip with Jun by company decision for these things, would have never been able to stop him from making his own decisions.
"Talk as in, you were still sleeping with him?" Minghao finally asks, over a glass of wine later on in a small night bar a few days later. Their new manager is out of earshot, trying to order himself something off the menu at the bar to keep himself awake to be able to drive later.
Jun doesn't even need alcohol to be honest. "I know I shouldn't."
"Jesus Christ." People around them had always known, but the tense is what does it. "Still?"
"It was a mistake."
"What the fuck."
"I said—"
"Exactly. So stop." Jun continues to frown over his glass. "You can't keep doing this."
Jun rubs the spot between his brows, shoulders deflated. "You've seen the all the movies, right? The ones you can't forget." The ones that didn't really make you cry but stayed with people long enough through generations with big names behind them. No one could really make movies about two male leads anymore, and have it screen for award nominations. People like Wang Yibo got lucky in a whirlwind of just two years for his shot at superstar fame. "They don't tell you all the good parts about the people you really like. Just the endings," Jun says, unusually calm. It only reminds Minghao that Jun really is older, if only by a year. But still. "I know it'll stop soon. It has to."
Until then—Minghao downs the rest of his wine. "You're brave."
"You're being nice now?"
"Well, stupid," Minghao finishes, raising his hand for the tab.
The next time Yanan's name makes rounds on the Internet, it's next to a girl's name. A small-time actress who'd emerged onto the scene and saw decent praise for her performance as the female lead to Yanan's character on a heart-wrenching coming of age movie. The news of their rumoured relationship was released days before the award show in Korea. When Yanan stepped down with the rest of his group off the stage after Pentagon's acceptance speech, he kept his eyes ahead of him.