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Wonwoo and Chan are dating.
They’re trying to date.
They’re barely dating.
It’s a baby deer of a relationship. A doe-eyed newborn, galloping around while those in the know watch from the sidelines with this pained toothy smile, terrified to see its legs give out.
Fine, maybe it’s less dramatic than certain death.
But they get robbed of the privilege of keeping it private for more than two weeks, so Wonwoo has the right to a little drama. At least they aren’t burdened with the weight of pain and the possibility of harming the main relationship — Seventeen . It’s a little funny how, thinking about it, they (as in all of them) were betting on the durability of that relationship before they even had a name. Too many bodies, too early, became too familiar with each other. After the years passed, and great offenses piled up and subsequently were pardoned, Wonwoo and Chan dating wasn’t a breach of some sacred law. The planned sneaking they had engineered was initially decided as a safety measure for curbing everyone's enthusiasm. They choose to be grown up about it, give it a chance, just to see how it goes. Wonwoo’s cheeks hurt from smiling while Chan underlined all the imposed caveats.
Except that there was a stark difference between what they were telling themselves, and well… the uninterrupted string of hookups.
The things were such that they had been going on dates already for a few months by then. They were on tour, and the hotel rooms were comfortable. It lent itself to the deceiving idea of how things would return to “normal” once they were back in Seoul. A lot of dates: Tokyo, Osaka, Singapore. Wonwoo took some of his best photographs then. He took many of Chan. Neither of them ever explicitly confessed how addictive time spent together became, but they also never tried to mask it. Then even the dates orchestrated under the guise of simple sightseeing became less necessary for them to wind up together tangled in bed. Nights (and days) were soon marked by scratches on Wonwoo’s shoulder blades and a lot of tactically placed, deep purple love bites.
Then in Seoul… things forgot to go back to normal. Nothing changed. They couldn't find a way to logic their way out of each other’s arms. Not when Chan tasted so sweet and Wonwoo could spend an eternity snoozing the alarm in Chan’s sheets.
So yes, they are dating.
And people aren’t supposed to know (even though they do). So when the music cuts off and Chan runs into Wonwoo’s arms—Wonwoo’s second thought is Ah, fuck! (The first is the embrace of Chan's flowery perfume). His face doesn’t betray the immediate fluster that spells out that the person in his arms is his boyfriend, but… he does immediately reach for Chan’s hand. It’s reflexive, and Chan’s hand is warm and Wonwoo rationalizes it that he just did it to lead him to their seat. His ears are terrible at keeping secrets, having promptly turned rose red. And he didn’t help his case when he muttered how much he likes his team.
“He plays well,” the producer with a bucket hat says, looking at Chan. She was giggling at every joke Chan cracked.
The cameras are off and Wonwoo grips his coffee for the welcome caffeine. His heart flutters looking at Chan huddled in the corner with Seokmin. “Yeah, he does,” he replies, sipping from his hot paper cup. Chan’s seduced the camera. He dances and jokes to steal the show. Yet, he doesn’t look tired one bit. Wonwoo envies him, but he’s more impressed. Ferociously proud. His boyfriend is a superstar.
“You take good care of him,” she adds and Wonwoo nods. They take good care of each other. Chan practically hand-feeds him his vitamins. Among other things.
“The maknae?” Na PD pipes up, looking up from the wad of papers on his lap. “He’s really funny.”
Wonwoo flashes a toothy grin. It's not a unique thought, but it’s one always pleasant to the ears. Chan’s charms work fast. Even when he's shy, he can't shake off the urge to quip. Wonwoo knows it's the thing that soothes his nerves, even when the joke bombs. Hell, particularly when the joke bombs. Then Chan bites his tongue and breathes out all the air out of his lungs and talking doesn't seem so scary anymore. The worst has already happened. “Yes, he is.” Wonwoo nods.
“You guys are really good together,” Na PD continues, “like real siblings.”
“Ah—” Wonwoo tries to intercept, smile turning pained and plastic.
“You especially, you play with him really well.”
“Ah, well—I mean—I—”
“You must have a dongsaeng too, right?”
“Yes, yes, but—”
“Ah! See!” He claps his hands in decided victory. “I really could tell. You're just like a real hyung.”
There’s no malicious intent behind the words. He doesn’t put down Chan or Wonwoo, by all means, it’s touching, the acknowledgment of the connection he and Chan have. He started the day off panicked that he gave away just to find out it was all interpreted as… brotherly affection. Crisis averted. So without an argument, Wonwoo nods. He shuffles around from one camp of the staff to the other, bowing his polite gratitudes. He loses the count of promises he makes for appearances. Surely something an older him will not be pleased with one day when people remember to cash them in. Everyone's beyond kind and he doesn't even have to force a smile in most conversations. Brothers . It runs on a hamster wheel in his head. The bizarreness can’t be overstated. That's silly. A little secretively, he had invested time into dodging that title. It was an easy contraption to get stuck in, the older brother role. Chan's the maknae. Cute, pretty, docile maknae. It naturally agreed with the assumption that he'd remain forever the innocent. But Chan reluctantly takes to that.
When they pile into the spacious SUVs, he switches seats with Joshua and finds Chan snug to the window, smiling at him. “Tired?”
Wonwoo chuckles, “Shouldn't I be asking you that?”
Chan shrugs, “I’m young.” He says, nonchalant with this teasing tone coating his words. The bleached hair makes him appear paler, and up close Wonwoo can clearly see his eyes drowned in exhaustion.
“Yeah, okay, we'll turn the car around and go do extra three hours,” Wonwoo challenges with a teasing smile, and Chan's forehead creases, “ Ahhhh, hyung .” He juts out his bottom lip as he pouts, and Wonwoo’s nose scrunchies with delight. He snuggles in closer until his arm coils around Chan in a half hug and lowers his chin down to whisper: “Come over?”
Chan’s idly fidgeting with the zipper of his hoodie, he’s considering it before he speaks under his breath, “We have a schedule tomorrow.”
Wonwoo’s well aware. Their whole lives exist arranged in an online calendar. And, admittedly, they’re both tired. The day is long and the end of the promotions still isn’t on the horizon but despite the ache he asks because the feigned disinterest is for better actors, and people less in love.
“Is that a no?” He nudges the side of Chan’s face lightly with his nose.
“No,” Chan replies, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
***
When Wonwoo thought of the idea for Youth Over Flowers and when he and Chan scribbled it down, neither actually believed that would be something that would come to fruition. Especially not in record time!
Sure, every so often one of them would remember the whole possibility of getting kidnapped and joke about it, but that was all it was—jokes. They had a tour. And albums. The list was endless and Wonwoo delighted in not thinking about it. Plus, as Miss. Misfortune kept looking down on them, they had each other to constantly keep a watch over. In all honestly, it seemed unlikely to Wonwoo that Na PD would solidify himself as this permanent entity orbiting their sphere.
But then… they got kidnapped.
And Italy happened.
And it just kept happening.
It is enough things slated consecutively that for a while Wonwoo forgets about the last conversation he had with the older man. He did parley it to Chan at a point, cringing at the reminder, as Chan openly laughed ( “Ah, that’s funny hyung.” He was giggling on Wonwoo’s bed, all fresh from the complex skincare routine. “Maybe it was a joke.” ). Wonwoo didn’t get that impression then, but they didn’t dwell on it long.
But, all that to say, between the filling carbs of ramyeon and beer, Chan spoke under his breath with conviction that soon Na PD would come to see the reality of the situation. Privately, Wonwoo labels Chan’s insistence as a bit of… paranoia. Because Chan always thinks that people know. Playfully, he nudges Wonwoo’s face away if Wonwoo looks at him too long. He goes up in flames under Wonwoo’s zealous gaze. In Italy, it’s just grown worse. There are cameras, sure, but it must be the drastic change in scenery that tricks them into truly believing they’re on holiday. Wonwoo sticks to Chan like a magnet. They yield the thinking and concede that it’s inevitable. After all, with the crew, someone ought to realize and tell the man.
“Oh… my god,” Chan whispers into Wonwoo’s shoulder blades as he clings to him. There were a dozen dirty pots of meringue to be washed, and Wonwoo couldn’t let someone from the crew try to step in and do it. He is scrubbing the last of the pots and glasses when Chan wraps his hands around his middle, warm body pressing into his warm back. “You were right,” Chan mumbles, face squished into Wonwoo’s shirt.
“Yes,” Wonwoo nods slowly, only ever so slightly tipsy. That string of words is always welcome. “But about what?”
“He doesn’t know.”
To the best of their knowledge, the cameras have retired for the night and the intimacy is sweet to the heart. The heat, the unwavering rush, they exhaust in their cruel ways. Chan rears all of that. Wonwoo wipes his hands on the front of his white tee and maneuvers Chan to look at him. “What did you say?”
“He,” Chan says, eyes wide like that is supposed to be a giveaway for Wonwoo about whom they are talking about, “doesn’t know about us. For real.”
“Hm?” Wonwoo tilts his head. “Oh!”
“Right.” Chan nods frantically.
“Did he say something?” See, he really was right. He isn’t going to flaunt it, but the man did sound earnest that time they talked.
His hands sneak around Chan and his arms comfortably settle clinging to Chan’s hips. He’s caught some of that Italian sun that matches the hair so well.
“He said I was really good at acting when I tricked you.” Chan pouts. Thousands of butterflies break out of their cocoons and soar up the cavity of Wonwoo’s chest. Swiping his tongue across his lip, he tucks a strand of hair behind Chan’s ear.
“That’s not so bad,” Wonwoo mumbles. Chan’s acting classes are paying off.
“He also said how I’m such a cute little brother to you.”
Ah
, there it is.
“I do struggle with thinking of a cuter person than you.” Wonwoo nods, unhelpful but true. It’s difficult not to smile looking at Chan. “But you’re not like a brother to me.” Maybe it’s the sight of the smile that makes Chan’s furrowed eyebrow turn meaner. “You’re my boyfriend,” Wonwoo whispers like it’s a secret, and it is really, but saying it makes him all high and giddy, and Chan smirks and rolls his eyes.
“Then what do you think it is?”
“Hm?”
“Do you think he’s homophobic?” Chan asks a little hushed, and Wonwoo’s eyes grow to the size of tennis balls. “Chan-ah!”
“What?!”
“Mingyu and Jihoon have literally kissed in front of him.” Wonwoo can’t believe he’s been forced to argue for Na PD but they all have eyes. The man has witnessed plenty of less-than-innocent behavior from the group. It is highly unlikely he’s walking around with a strong conservative agenda that makes him blind to what… gay people?
“But, still, I mean,” Chan fusses, and Wonwoo presses his lips to his forehead. It isn’t pacifying, or dismissive, he whispers into Chan’s hair how he understands and Chan takes his hand. It’s the one same uphill battle Chan came into years ago: his age. The maknae. The double-edged sword. He’s the youngest, really he’s the prettiest, but all with a caveat of either not being taken seriously, or being overlooked. Wonwoo presses soft kisses to his hair, his forehead, and papers and crowns his face with a dozen soft flutters of his lips until he hears bubbling giggles from Chan.
***
People don’t know it, but Wonwoo considers himself quite a decent prankster. It’s easy to get one over a bunch of people who lack the most basic common knowledge. His unsuspecting persona assists with that too. But, simultaneously, he genuinely struggles with lying. His importunate smile pinched at corners is such a terrible tell.
So when Na PD talks him into calling every member to join him in drinking just to test their responses, Wonwoo exhales with worry but complies. Anything for the show, right? Seungkwan figures it out immediately. Kinda spoils the fun, kinda brushes Wonwoo’s anxiety away. Not everything has to go perfectly. Wonwoo goes down the list, skips over a certain name two or three times, and then after the fifth rejection, he dials Chan.
It feels almost cruel. Chan falls into it like a mouse in a cheese trap.
No one else shows up.
It leaves it to just the three of them: Chan, Wonwoo, and Na PD. Wonwoo bites his lip in expectation of the outcome. Chan must be thinking the same because the moment he arrives, Wonwoo catches his eyes widen. It’s almost comedic, how Chan rocks a little back and forth and glances back at Wonwoo with eyebrows raised. They communicate in this quick exchange of looks ( “He’s really still clueless,” Chan seems to say). Na PD doesn’t help his case at all, he showers Chan with compliments of being the best dongsaeng and the best maknae . At one point he asks them if they meet up often for drinks and Wonwoo has to hide his smile behind his fist because Chan’s tortuous. Forget the poor mouse that Wonwoo thought of him as, somehow, suddenly, Na PD is the prey and Chan can’t help himself toying with him.
“Yeah, Wonwoo hyung, and I meet up often,” Chan admits, coy.
“Oh, really? What else do you guys do?”
Chan looks back at Wonwoo before he says: “We… work out.” Wonwoo almost groans.
They don’t stick around for long. Chan’s had double dance practice that day (like every day) and the adrenaline is wearing off. And Wonwoo never intended for the quick visit to turn into camera-worthy content.
“Hey Chan-ah, I did want to ask you,” Na PD starts as he’s seeing them off. He even appears a little apprehensive as he speaks, and that jolts Wonwoo’s curiosity. Privately, he hopes it’s some sneaking offer for a variety show. Chan would like that.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to ask,” he crosses his arms, “you know my assistant Minseo? She’s a 99 liner like you, and ever since we filmed in Italy, she keeps bringing you up.” He pauses and a thick cover of awkwardness settles.
“Oh,” Chan just opens his mouth, stumped. Wonwoo’s frozen.
“I don’t know what the company policy really is on dating but,” the man continues and Wonwoo can’t believe that he’s continuing. All of their faces adopt this red, hot, color of humiliation. “I just thought if you’d be interested, she’s a really nice girl, she’s diligent, I mean she’s never been late even once,” he just keeps going and Wonwoo’s standing there, clutching his camera bag in disbelief.
“Ah, hyung,” Chan finally interrupts the rambling, “that’s so nice,” he puts on a polite smile and rubs his nape, “but,” and Na PD winces a little at that. Wonwoo wants to run away out of his body. “But, I mean, with the solo,” Chan explains, sounding truly apologetic, “I don’t really have the time, that’s all. You know, with these practices,” he gestures at nothing, chewing his lip.
“No, no, no,” Na PD jumps in, washed over with remorse, “Of course, of course. Sorry if this—”
“—No, no, don’t apologize please, it’s just… the timing.”
“Right.” The older man says and the silence is haunting . Wonwoo’s eyes drill holes in the back of Chan’s skull and he’s conflicted if he should butt in to shatter the awkwardness or let it choke itself.
“Thank you two for coming.” It’s so easy, and drastically different from that meek voice that the moment before seems like a bizarre dream.
The walk to the car is silent. At first,Wonwoo doesn’t start the engine: he rests his palms on his tights and they don’t exchange words. Still processing, apparently. Until Chan breaks out in laughter. He’s inconsolable. He covers his mouth because he’s laughing so hard and it’s so loud. Wonwoo sees a tear run down his cheek and his face turns red. It’s that pretty, delightful color without holding back that no one is immune to and Wonwoo giggles too. The moment replaying in his head. But Chan’s laughter grips him and soon he’s laughing too, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. His stomach hurts and Chan’s straining to catch a breath, he coughs and he’s back to laughing. It takes a while for them to settle down. Wonwoo’s breathing is uneven and dangerous—one wrong word threatening to trigger the laughter anew.
“He’s really funny,” Chan says, winded.
“So, once you’re less busy, you’ll go out with her?” Wonwoo teases and lightly, Chan smacks his chest.
***
It’s pitched as a simple catch-up dinner thing for the comeback promotion. In fact, it shows on all their faces how much they enjoy the newfound bond that only grows stronger. For so long, they had existed in the cradle of their comfort zone—a variety show that is in every way curated for them and by them. Perhaps it would be unfair to say, but Wonwoo suspects that has, to an extent, made them complacent. They got too comfortable.
Now, when Na PD calls, it’s an occasion to put their best foot forward. In all of them, this rookie greed reawakens to crawl at attention. But, also, really… it was supposed to be just a dinner.
Wonwoo doesn’t do the Jeonghan thing of proclaiming how tired he is, but he is. Anxiously, he taps his foot with the wish of sneaking away. Instead, he sits and checks his phone a little too frequently.
And, then, finally, as everything seems to have wrapped up to a sweet conclusion, someone gets the bright idea of an impromptu livestream. Wonwoo bites his lip to stop himself from disagreeing.
It’s a quick thing, and it takes a few minutes where people say their hellos and goodbyes, and then… Wonwoo’s there when it happens. Later, they will blame it on the alcohol, or maybe even call it a happy accident. But at the moment, the time stops. Na PD goes on talking and when he’s somewhere in complimenting them, he mentions Chan and… Chan’s thing .
Chan’s debut.
It’s not ill-natured. It’s just an accident. A glaring one, as no one has a poker face trained well enough to cover it up.
It’s only a few of them on camera when it happens and by some luck, Chan is excluded, so Wonwoo slithers away.
He finds him cleaning up. The table’s a mess, someone’s left their jacket, and Chan’s got a fist full of used chopsticks.
Panicked, Wonwoo strides in long steps towards him and reaches for Chan’s bicep, curling there. He leans in closer to whisper into his ear. “Na PD just mentioned your mixtape on live.” Chan flinches. Hard. Then goes all rigid under Wonwoo’s touch. “It was an accident, it happened, and in a matter of minutes he will come over here to apologize and please…,” he trails off because it’s terrible to demand of Chan not to be angry, but still Wonwoo’s eyes plead.
Not that Chan would lash out. Even in the most unbecoming situations, his nature doesn’t permit it. Instead, Chan simmers and boils over. That’s when it burns. He draws frustration and pain to his chest and cradles it until it’s a part of him and he then cries because he hates it. He tells Wonwoo he hates it. Everything’s so difficult to say when you have to put it in the politest form.
And Wonwoo knows Chan. This song, the choreography he’s wrung his bones out for, it’s his life. It’s his first real flight.
It’s once after the relationship feels like solid ground to walk on that Chan explains something to Wonwoo.
Chan has this mentality of seldom sharing his delights because he’s so scared of them evaporating. He’s scared of people spoiling the fun. And now something of his so precious has suffered just that. He had all these plans for the first announcement. Just a little, right now, it feels like he’s been robbed of it. So Wonwoo warns him, because maybe it softens the blow if it comes from him.
He lets Chan recuperate, gives his shoulder a soft squeeze. He hates to see him tired, so sad and tired, and it’s all that breaks across his face until a mask of trained apathy comes on.
Wonwoo goes back, he meets Na PD with only Chan in mind and very diplomatically tries to assure the man that everything’s alright. No fine should be paid. And Chan’s fine too. No real harm done. To his ears, it’s transparent how untrue that rings, yet it slides.
“Wonwoo, you’re close with him,” Na PD tugs at the sleeve of his cardigan. The live’s just shut off, all hardware still warm to the touch. “Please tell me if he’ll get mad? Or what should I say? I didn’t know with the promotion I thought that—”
Wonwoo stops and considers. “No, hyung. Chan’s not the type. It was an honest mistake.” He assures. It’s not a full lie. The nerves appear all more visible and the man fidgets a little.
Almost everyone’s gone and Wonwoo wonders if it’s him that Chan is waiting or an apology. He appears so content, nothing on him out of the ordinary, and as the list of apologies pours out, he does put on a face reflecting a fragment of the reality—hurt.
But understanding.
He even smiles.
“I really am sorry. For some reason, with the album I had thought your solo had been teased already too,” Na PD explains. “And I have to confess I even asked Wonwoo, you two are really close friends I needed someone to advise me I just feel so terrible Chan-ah.” He looks between the two of them. Wonwoo’s hand itches to fold Chan closer into an embrace. To get them out of there. “And it was just as he said,” he seems relieved, “your hyung knows you really well.”
It’s a depleted tank of energy that Chan seems to run on because to Wonwoo it’s obvious how it’s all motions. It takes a lot out of him, a conversation that’s demanding and a topic like piercing pain in the side of his skull. Though, it doesn’t show. He’s light like a feather when he bows and waves.
They’re at that stage of their relationship where they share their calendars with each other and Wonwoo knows the dance practices that await. If there was a way for him to give the hours out of his day to Chan, he would hand them off in a heartbeat. Because Chan always finds the time for his music and his dance but there’s never enough for the quiet to rest his bones.
Wonwoo’s about to lean over and open the car door for him, wish him sweet dreams, and remind him to be careful at the practice. Chan hasn’t mentioned the spoiler the whole ride, so Wonwoo ignores it too.
“Come up,” Chan’s hand takes his in the dark garage.
“I—Really?” Not that he doesn’t want to, but he didn’t plan that.
“Please.”
Panting, and sheer in swear, Chan scoots close to him, like a pup he nuzzles Wonwoo’s jawline. It’s ticklish how the slightest touches of Chan’s fingers trace along Wonwoo’s ribs.
Wonwoo really didn’t plan this.
“Close friends, huh?” Chan asks between the butterfly kisses. It takes Wonwoo a second to recall what he’s referencing, but then he’s cupping Chan’s cheek to see him smile and Wonwoo laughs before he is kissing him. It’s wet and dirty, and his spent cock still somehow stirs. It’s entirely ill-advised how late they will go to sleep, but it’s so easy to push that away when Chan’s mouth is plaint and hot.
***
“What are you doing tonight?” Jeonghan asks as they’re cleaning the practice room mirror.
“Meeting a close friend,” Wonwoo says, and snickers.
A walk along the Han and a cozy Udon place. That’s what Chan decided their first anniversary should be. Wonwoo asked and asked. He had a finger hovering over a reservation for Flavors . But no, Chan just wanted whatever Wonwoo wanted. In his words: I don’t need extravagance, I need you. So beer and Udon it is.
And the whole close friend thing, they’ve turned it into a big running joke. To everyone else, it was funny the first ten times, but now five months later at a mention of it, there’s a chorus of groans or simply an undignified silence.
Wonwoo thinks that it’s cute, the fact that they have their running joke.
After the dinner, they watch an episode of a drama that they wouldn’t be watching if it wasn’t done together and Chan pours his body over Wonwoo’s. He’s sweet to taste with lips impossible to resist. Chan breathes with this content of someone who has seen life and is looking forward to it. It’s in his kisses, pressed without haste—eager, but attentive.
Now, how funny is it that a day after that Na PD is there again?
It’s half an ambush and half a surprise at this point. Their production team seems to be in cahoots with that man, as he always manages to surprise them. He startles them mid a fan chant recording and then the day is just off the rails. Wonwoo doesn’t mind, he will take a big buffet dinner over a scheduling meeting any day. These days, there’s no time to breathe unless scheduled.
When it’s all of them and the spotlight is shared, Wonwoo’s wide shoulders relax. He talks quietly about soup and his school days, Chan listens and chews. The pressure to perform now isn’t as pressing. They’ve proven themselves, plus Na PD is familiar enough that he’s gauged everyone’s temper pretty accurately. He’s good at what he does, obviously. He picks questions according to everyone’s strengths and then lets them talk between themselves.
Though, it’s still the busiest year of their lives. The meeting ends sooner than anyone would like, but it ends at an appropriate time. It quickly becomes a conversation about who is leaving with whom and who needs a ride. Between hugs, Jeonghan reminds Wonwoo that they have their own recording to attend. Wonwoo wishes to will the time to stop.
“It was so nice to see you. I told Jeonghan I’m expecting you two after the album releases.”
Wonwoo bows and accepts the offer wordlessly.
“Hyung, make them do some embarrassing challenge,” Chan suggests with a smile, and Na PD jumps at the joking but very real approval for mischief.
“You coming?” Mingyu asks from a distance, toying with his car keys. His eyes seem to be asking both Wonwoo and Chan. But Wonwoo drove Chan here so—
“I’ll take Chan home and then I’ll see you.”
“You guys live close to each other? That’s nice.” Na PD says. He’s got his hands in his pockets and he’s smiling. It’s such an innocent question. He’s just curious. The man seems to live in constant fascination with how thirteen people manage to ever agree on anything. Sometimes Wonwoo gets an impression like they’re part of a study. And it’s just that there’s been five months of a running gag that the man originated, and the corner of Chan’s lip seems to be torturing him. He's about to break into a smile and say something like, “We do. Because we are such close friends.”
He hates to ruin Chan’s comedic timing, but Wonwoo’s arm slides around Chan’s waist. It’s familiar. They’re already standing abreast. His hand curls at the gentle dip of Chan’s hip and it’s Chan himself who leans in, bringing his body closer to Wonwoo’s.
The man’s expression unchanged, he still stands waiting for a reply.
“Hyung.” Wonwoo starts. He doesn’t have to glance down next to him. He knows Chan must have a devilish grin. “We’re together.”
“You guys live together?” Na PD asks, tilting his head like to break out of a sudden fog.
Wonwoo bites back a giggle and then tries again, “No, hyung, I mean, Chan and I are together.”
There’s no instant eureka, so Chan’s bemused tone drives the point home, “We are dating.”
And then they see it. A man shocked out of his senses. It’s like the greatest plot twist he has experienced. His mouth gapes, eyes as wide as the rims of his glasses, and he is rendered speechless. Whatever system had shut down seems to reboot when he leaps to congratulate them and express his delight, but his mouth never really closes.
“How long?”
“One year,” Chan answers and the shock is twofold. Any processing that he had managed suddenly reset and instead of mute bafflement, he sputters, “One year?! Even in Italy?!”