Chapter Text
Chanyoung was sick and tired of parties. The fact that he had to put up with this nonsense even in Korea was aggravating. For someone like him, whose only joy in life was holing up in his room and making music, as if America wasn’t bad enough. Despite his aversion, he had attended quite a few parties, both here and there. While he did enjoy hanging out with them, music always took precedence. There were even times when he got scolded for just sitting in a corner and listening to music. It was a case of the tail wagging the dog.
The problem was that Korean parties weren’t hosted by his American friends. Due to the misfortune of having chaebol parents, Chanyoung was forced to wear a tight three-piece suit and attend a party hosted by some conglomerate. It was hard to say no to his mother, who had pleaded with him to let her introduce her son back in Korea after so long. He was completely convinced when she said, “I let you take your own path instead of inheriting the company; the least you could do is this.” In dramas, families like his were usually depicted as dysfunctional, but if there was one issue with his, it was that they were too harmonious, making it impossible to rebel entirely.
If only there were some familiar faces, it wouldn’t be so boring. Having returned to Korea after about ten years, Chanyoung hardly knew anyone. When was Sohee hyung coming? He had been tapping his index finger on the table, but the constant stares from various directions started to bother him, so he stepped out onto the terrace.
Through the fading sounds of the chattering guests, the strains of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5, a bit too dramatic for the occasion, reached his ears. He tapped his fingers along the railing in time with the orchestra's performance. The cellos were a bit too fast, and the violins were slightly out of tune. He sipped his champagne, mentally critiquing the orchestra. Just as he counted the eighteenth flaw, someone suddenly tapped him on the shoulder.
The tapping was a bit too forceful to be considered a friendly gesture. Chanyoung turned around in irritation.
“Lee Chanyoung.”
“...”
“It’s been a while.”
Who was this guy again? He looked familiar, but…
“Did you have fun in the States?”
The strong smell of cigarettes made Chanyoung’s expression sour even more. The more his face twisted, the higher the other man’s lips curled into a smirk. The man had slightly longer black hair than most guys, and he wore only a white shirt with a couple of buttons undone and suit pants. Chanyoung slowly pulled the memory of that face, grinning wickedly while smoking, from the recesses of his mind.
Right. There was someone like him. The youngest son of Juseong Group. Was he a year or two older than me? They had never really interacted. Oh, they did go to the same high school. He remembered the boyish face in the same school uniform, though with a different-colored name tag. Anyway, someone he knew. Reaching that conclusion, Chanyoung nodded.
“Yes, it’s been a while…”
As soon as he said that, memories of this guy constantly picking on him flashed through his mind. Chanyoung had wanted to keep a low profile, hiding whose son he was, but on the first day of school, this senior had shown up with a crowd and loudly asked if he was the kid from Yoonmyung Group. Thanks to him, Chanyoung’s school life had almost become a headache. But what was his name again? Park... Park… It was something similar to an actor’s name. Park Hyunbin? No, that was a singer, not an actor.
"You remember me, huh?"
Not really, but Chanyoung nodded. It would be awkward to admit otherwise.
"Hey, so listen."
"Yes?"
Since the guy was his senior, Chanyoung decided to keep speaking formally. The man blew a puff of smoke right into Chanyoung’s face, causing him to grimace. It was one of the smells he hated the most. He briefly considered asking him to put out the cigarette, but then—
"Do you want to sleep with me?"
Someone from a distant, blurry memory suddenly appeared before him and said something like that. Chanyoung hadn’t even wondered if this person was alive or dead, as they had only briefly crossed paths in each other’s lives. For a moment, Chanyoung seriously pondered whether “sleep with me” could somehow mean just sleep and not sex.
“You don’t want to?”
“...No.”
So, it was sex after all. Chanyoung nodded.
“Why not?”
“I only sleep with people I like.”
Chanyoung was surprisingly conservative in this regard. He had never slept with anyone who wasn’t a romantic partner. Even if he understood what the man was really after, he would still refuse.
“Really?”
Why did that inexplicable look in the man’s eyes keep bothering him? Chanyoung snatched the burning cigarette and stubbed it out against the terrace wall.
“And no smoking indoors.”
“...”
“If you want to smoke, do it outside.”
“If I don’t smoke indoors, does that mean you’ll sleep with me?”
“I told you, only with someone I like.”
The man chuckled.
“You really don’t remember me, do you?”
“...”
“Yeah, figured as much.”
He hadn’t expected much anyway. The words drifted out of his mouth as casually as blowing out cigarette smoke, making Chanyoung pause. Something about the tone almost triggered a memory… Chanyoung was still trying to recall when a loud voice called out from a distance.
“Park Wonbin! What are you doing over there?”
“Coming!”
So it wasn’t Park Hyunbin, but Park Wonbin. Without saying goodbye, he turned and walked away toward the man who had called him. For a moment, Chanyoung felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if he had seen that retreating back somewhere before. The cello, still out of tune, played on. Beethoven's Fate Symphony rushed toward its final movement.
ONLY MEAN TO ME
LEE CHANYOUNG x PARK WONBIN
It’s been years. The last time he came to see his parents was about five years ago. As Chanyoung set foot on Korean soil after such a long time, he took a deep breath. He thought he had gotten used to the overwhelming smell of marijuana, but breathing in the air free of such things seemed to clear his mind.
Anton Chanyoung Lee, at the young age of twenty-seven, had already made a name for himself as a singer-songwriter. His parents had put in immense effort from his childhood to groom him to take over the family business, but once Chanyoung had made up his mind, there was no stopping him. They say no parent can win against their child. Chanyoung's father was completely defeated by his son, who was determined enough to even threaten a hunger strike. It was only natural—Chanyoung Lee and defeat were incompatible words.
"Fine. Live your life as you wish. But don't expect any support from me. I'll give you just enough allowance to get by, so you'll have to find success on your own. You need to understand just how tough that world is before you give up." But despite these words, his father's support was more than generous. In fact, he encouraged Chanyoung to explore a bigger world, suggesting he study abroad in the U.S. Thanks to that, Chanyoung left Korea as soon as he turned eighteen.
So why had this successful singer-songwriter suddenly returned to Korea? His close cousin, Ji-hye, was getting married in two weeks. She had threatened to burn down America if he didn’t attend the wedding, so Chanyoung decided to come back to Korea, taking the opportunity to see his family as well. He had postponed all his important commitments, so his plan was to rest as much as possible in Korea before heading back to the U.S. A month of relaxation should be enough to refresh him. After all, the only reason he was tied to the U.S. was because of agency and concert matters—he could work on his music just as well in Korea.
But instead of refreshing, he now found himself at a party that was anything but relaxing. Chanyoung glanced over at the table in front of him, where Wonbin was sipping champagne with a bored expression, as if nothing in the world interested him.
"Why is Wonbin hyung here?" Chanyoung asked, his gaze fixed on him.
Sohee, noticing where Chanyoung was looking, tilted his head in confusion. "Do you remember him? It's been ten years."
"Not quite ten years," Chanyoung corrected.
"Oh, right."
"He recognized me earlier," Chanyoung added.
"Wonbin hyung did?" Sohee was surprised.
"Yeah."
"Wow..."
"Are you two close?"
"Kinda?" Sohee replied nonchalantly. But coming from someone like him, "kinda" probably meant they were pretty close.
"What does he do?"
"Just... the youngest son of Joosung?"
"'Just' what?"
"Knowing that much is already knowing a lot."
Ah—why does this champagne feel so flat? Chanyoung had a strange feeling that Sohee was trying to change the subject. He poured fresh champagne into the cup Sohee was drinking from.
"So, what does he do now?"
"Probably... nothing?"
"...What do you mean?"
"Exactly that."
"......."
"He's unemployed."
Is it possible for the youngest son of Joosung to be unemployed? Joosung was famous for its rigorous heir training. It might be just a rumor, but it's likely true. In this industry, everything ran on rumors. Gossip influenced stock prices, and rumors often turned into reality.
Wonbin seemed uncomfortable in that situation. To be precise, he looked familiar with it, yet somehow uneasy. Though his memories from high school were a bit blurry, Chanyoung recalled that Wonbin used to be quite expressive with his emotions. That’s why he used to act that way toward me.
"Yah, Lee Sohee. Didn't I tell you to turn off the air conditioner before you leave?"
"Ah, noona!"
Ji-hye, who arrived late, smacked Sohee on the back and took a seat. It was unfortunate timing as Chanyoung had just begun a serious conversation about the chairman. He quietly greeted her. Her face, which he hadn’t seen in a long time, was as lively as ever. Ji-hye gave Chanyoung a half-hearted greeting before turning back to scold Sohee again. Should I play "Dream of the Square"? I’m sorry.
As usual, watching Ji-hye and Sohee bicker gave him a sudden sense of déjà vu. It felt like he had encountered this situation somewhere before. Not with Ji-hye and Sohee, but something else.
[[ Hey, why do you eat mint chocolate?]]
What is this memory?
[[ I really hate Hawaiian pizza.]]
A strange yet familiar memory. Screech—
"...Sorry about that. Let's begin."
"Hello, I'm Park Wonbin, the director of Joosung Corporation."
The piercing sound of the microphone was accompanied by a low voice that overlapped with it. Chanyoung’s gaze turned to the stage. Unlike before when his outfit was almost completely unbuttoned, Wonbin was now neatly dressed with his shirt buttons fastened and his tie properly knotted. He had even put on the jacket that Chanyoung thought he had lost. Looking like that, he did give off a director vibe.
"...Didn't you say he's unemployed?"
"Yeah, he doesn't work. He's only a director by name."
"Why?"
Before Sohee could respond, Wonbin's voice filled the room.
"Thank you all for attending today. Next, we will hear from the chairman."
Chanyoung watched as Wonbin stepped aside after merely introducing his father and handing over the microphone. If he was just going to greet everyone, was there really a need for him to come up at all? He could have left, but instead, he stood there, perfectly still, like a doll. He reminded Chanyoung of a ball-jointed doll with large eyes that blinked silently.
It was then that Chanyoung finally recalled the forgotten memories of Wonbin. High school days—lunchtime or after school—wherever Chanyoung went, there was Park Wonbin, always picking a fight. Back then, Chanyoung used to wonder, Did I somehow offend that senior? Why did someone he wasn’t even close to bother him so much? Chanyoung had deliberately chosen an ordinary school to avoid the brainless rich kids, but unfortunately, he found himself stuck with the annoying Park Wonbin.
Wonbin would try to trip him in the cafeteria, interrupt him during club activities when Chanyoung was working on cross-stitch, or mock him in the library, telling him to stop reading and go play soccer instead. He was always particularly mean to Chanyoung. He was never like that with anyone else—he was always surrounded by the same one or two friends, but Chanyoung never saw him act that way toward them. Funny how he’d forgotten about all of that.
"Please enjoy the rest of the evening. Thank you."
As the chairman finished his speech, thunderous applause erupted. Being the top company in the current market, it naturally attracted a lot of attention. Wonbin clapped quietly along with everyone else. Watching his face, Chanyoung thought, It's hard to believe I could forget someone like him. He was still staring at Wonbin when Ji-hye suddenly burst out laughing and pointed at Chanyoung's face.
"Hey, Chanyoung. Why's your face so red?"
"Me?"
"Did you drink that whole bottle by yourself?"
Chanyoung hadn’t realised it, but his mouth felt dry, and he had been drinking the champagne like it was water. It seemed he had already finished a whole bottle. The moment he became aware of it, the room started to spin. How strong is this? Nearly twenty percent alcohol. No wonder he was getting tipsy after downing a whole bottle in less than an hour. He quickly gulped down some ice water and stood up.
"Where are you going?"
"Bathroom."
"Want me to go with you?"
"No, that's not necessary. I can manage."
Chanyoung figured he needed to splash some cold water on his face if he wanted to avoid getting scolded by his mom later. He already felt like he reeked of wine. He hurried towards the bathroom he had spotted earlier on his way in.
But... maybe it's because he’s drunk. He didn’t realize he had such a bad sense of direction.
He couldn’t even find the bathroom and kept wandering around the same area in circles. He blinked, trying to keep his hazy mind focused enough to stand upright when he heard a loud noise. Chanyoung lifted his head. The sound was coming from inside the emergency staircase. ...What was that? He slightly opened the door and peeked inside, looking down the stairs. There was a figure, but it was hard to make out who it was.
"You should at least do well with the things you can do, how many times do I have to tell you?"
"......."
"If you’re no help to the family... you should at least do what you're told properly."
"......."
"If you’re just going to be a decorative face, at least do it well."
A conversation like that, held quietly at a party hosted by Joosung, could only involve...
"Wonbin?"
As expected, it was Park Wonbin and his family.
Chanyoung swallowed nervously. He felt like he had accidentally overheard something a third party shouldn't have. Suddenly, it felt like the alcohol was wearing off. He wanted to quietly close the door and leave.
Screech—
The sound of the heavy metal door closing was too loud. Panicking, he glanced around, but his alcohol-soaked brain wasn’t capable of quick thinking. While he hesitated, the door opened again. The person who emerged was...
"You saved me there."
It was Wonbin, alone.
"...Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop...."
"It’s fine. Thanks to you, it ended sooner."
"My brother’s always been a bit of a jerk," Wonbin said, stretching his neck as if shrugging off the tension. Chanyoung thought to himself, Is this kind of thing so common that he’s completely unfazed? Why does he just stand there and take those hurtful words? Even if they’re family, that doesn’t give them the right.
"Why do you just listen to that?"
"Listen to what?"
"Those kinds of things."
"Just a decorative face. Do what you're told." Even from those words alone, it was clear how Wonbin was treated in his family. Chanyoung wasn’t suggesting he fight back or try to overcome it... but just...
"What does it matter to you?"
Chanyoung felt sorry for Park Wonbin. If he hadn’t known, he might have just let it go, but now that he did, he couldn’t ignore it.
Suddenly, he remembered the first time Wonbin met him and bluntly asked about sex. As Chanyoung stared blankly at Wonbin's face, Wonbin moved to walk past him. In an attempt to stop him, Chanyoung blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"Should we sleep together?"
Maybe the alcohol was hitting him harder now. Chanyoung wasn’t even sure what he was saying or if he was thinking straight, but his mouth moved on its own. His heart was acting on its own. Right now, Chanyoung...
"All of a sudden?"
"Yes."
"Well... go ahead, then."
...wanted to comfort Wonbin.
The image of Wonbin’s wounded expression from earlier, faintly illuminated by the dim light in the emergency stairwell, kept flashing through his mind.
Chanyoung wasn't sure how he ended up going all the way up to the top floor of the hotel. As soon as they reached the penthouse, he pressed his lips against Wonbin's. Everything that followed felt natural. Wonbin undressed Chanyoung, and Chanyoung undressed Wonbin. He vaguely remembered hearing somewhere that Wonbin used to run track when he was younger—it certainly looked like it. Now that his clothes were off, Wonbin's body was even leaner, but the tightly knit muscles covering his frame were evident. Chanyoung licked his lips.
"Why are you swallowing like that?"
"You're noticing even that?"
Chanyoung's hand moved towards Wonbin's backside. He wanted to take it slow, but his alcohol-soaked mind was demanding immediate pleasure and excitement. Wonbin’s hand was already slipping inside Chanyoung’s pants.
You’re pretty quick to get hard even after drinking.
"...Don’t say stuff like that..."
Why, are you embarrassed? Wonbin smirked as he stroked Chanyoung.
That smile reminded Chanyoung of the earlier, downcast expression on Wonbin's face, prompting him to pull Wonbin into an embrace. No matter how overwhelmed he was by physical arousal, he didn't want to forget why he had initiated this with Wonbin in the first place. He knew from experience that sometimes, the warmth of another person could provide immense comfort.
"What are you hugging me for?"
"Should I stop?"
"Do what you want. It’s the first time anyone’s ever held me like this."
"Have you done this a lot?"
"Something like that."
Wonbin turned his head, and Chanyoung noticed the tips of his ears turning red. Oddly enough, he seemed embarrassed about this part. Chanyoung slid his finger deep into the most intimate corner. A low moan echoed in his ear, heightening the excitement that surged through him. When Chanyoung finally released Wonbin’s pants, which had already been loosened, he gripped Wonbin's narrow hips, preparing to go further.
"I mean it, tell me if it hurts."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm serious."
Chanyoung slowly began to push in, starting with just the tip. He wondered if it would all fit, but Wonbin’s low, rumbling moans filled the room. Chanyoung had noticed earlier that while visual stimulation was intense, it was the sounds—the auditory cues—that drove him wild. Wonbin seemed to be trying his best to maintain a composed expression, but the sounds he made were uncontrollable. When Wonbin suddenly tensed, Chanyoung accidentally pushed in all at once, surprising even himself as he quickly checked Wonbin’s face for any signs of pain.
"Do you... want to die?"
Wonbin’s voice was strained, barely more than a whisper as if it was hard to breathe. Startled, Chanyoung gently rubbed Wonbin’s taut stomach. *Relax, it’s okay. It’s going to feel good,* he tried to convey with his touch.
"Sorry for being... big."
"Ha... just stop talking."
"...Okay."
"Can I move now?" silence was his only answer as Wonbin swatted away his hand that had been soothing him. At Wonbin’s brusque response, Chanyoung nodded a few times and squeezed Wonbin’s lean thigh, signaling that he was about to start moving. Despite trying not to show it, Wonbin’s expression seemed pained as his brows furrowed. Chanyoung tried to ease the tension by kissing Wonbin’s exposed chest, shoulders, and collarbones while gently thrusting. Finally, a more satisfied moan escaped Wonbin. From that point on, Chanyoung lost his ability to think straight. No matter how hard he tried to hold on to rationality, something inside him snapped, leading them to keep going until Wonbin was panting heavily, signaling the end of their intense time. They had both finished twice by then.
Wonbin was gasping for breath, almost as if he was hyperventilating. It had been rougher than expected, so Chanyoung held him close as an apology. Wonbin rested his chin on Chanyoung’s shoulder, exhaling slowly. Chanyoung began rhythmically patting Wonbin’s back, helping him to regulate his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Once Wonbin’s breathing had steadied, Chanyoung gently stroked his back and asked,
"Feeling any better?"
"Eung..."
Wonbin’s response was weak, almost like someone on the verge of collapse. Despite his muscular build, Chanyoung mentally noted that Wonbin’s stamina seemed surprisingly low, considering how exhausted he looked after just two rounds.
Carefully, Chanyoung cupped Wonbin’s chin and lifted his face off his shoulder. As he looked at Wonbin’s half-lidded eyes and slightly parted lips, still catching his breath, Chanyoung realized he might have gone too far. He didn’t regret it, but he did acknowledge that he wasn’t acting like his usual self. He knew he shouldn’t get used to these fleeting moments of pleasure and dopamine.
The alcohol had long since worn off. This meant that everything that happened was entirely Chanyoung’s choice. Even though his motivation had stemmed from a small, perhaps unwanted sense of sympathy for Wonbin, he knew that this one-time thing wouldn’t offer any real comfort... and yet...
"You're not okay, are you, hyung?"
"Ha... if I weren’t okay, then why..."
"Next time, I’ll be gentler."
"Next time?"
Chanyoung wanted to promise there would be a next time. He didn’t know why, but not everything needed a reason. He simply wanted to. He liked Wonbin. He had enjoyed it. And after all, Wonbin was the one who had initiated it.
"Call me again next time."
"Ha, why would I?"
Wonbin replied with a face drained of all energy. Chanyoung brushed a stray lock of hair behind Wonbin’s ear as he spoke.
"Why? Did you not like it today?"
Wonbin fell silent. Chanyoung chuckled. *So, he didn’t dislike it.*
"Call me."
"......."
"Okay?"
Chanyoung didn’t want to just let Wonbin go like this. Look, he was smiling now, albeit incredulously—much better than the grim expression he’d had earlier. It was a beautiful sight.