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wip graveyard
why are these all riwoo pov...
manager!riwoo au, was hypothetically going to be ryutaet
At the end of April, Sanghyuk is reassigned from the team managing BELIFT's male trainees to the BOYNEXTDOOR management team.
It's ostensibly a promotion—managing an active group with an upcoming world tour comes with more responsibilities than chaperoning high school students shuffling between the HYBE building and their trainee dorm—but not one Sanghyuk necessarily understands. He's only been at HYBE for a year and honestly, he bullshitted his way through the English portion of his job interview. He's pretty sure he only got the job because of the recommendation from his boss at the dance academy.
"There's been some restructuring," the leader of the management team explains. "And we're looking to fill these openings internally. Your employment profile is a good fit, Sanghyuk-ssi, and your current team speaks highly of you."
Sanghyuk thinks back to the personality questionnaire from his interview that took him 30 minutes to complete, endless questions like When I leave home, I do not worry about whether the door is locked and the windows are closed, as though his answers could tell the recruiters something about his potential ability to manage idols. Apparently it did.
"Thank you for the opportunity," Sanghyuk says, bowing his head.
"We'll need to revise your security clearances and we'll need an updated copy of your driver's license." The team leader scans the file in her hands, double checking. She then gives Sanghyuk a professional smile. "You can start on Monday."
Sanghyuk, like many of his own coworkers with their own failed dreams, did not intend to become a manager. After his second ACL reconstruction surgery, it became clear that teaching dance full-time was no longer a viable option. He enlisted, completed his social services duty, and was discharged without a real plan of where he was supposed to go next. It was his boss at the dance academy who recommended that he apply at HYBE. He had connections there after sending them a dozen successful trainees over the years, and he could put in a good word for Sanghyuk.
In the end, it kind of worked out. Sanghyuk likes taking care of people, and he's always been levelheaded, calm enough to deal with the inevitable spats and sleep-deprived breakdowns.
He's a little sad to say goodbye to his trainees. A few of them have been around since Sanghyuk started the job and he's watched them go from awkward, pimply teens to slightly less awkward, still pimply teens hungry for debut, a glint of real passion in their eyes.
Tang Huayu, who was like a baby bird that fell out of his nest in Shandong and landed in Korea only to imprint on Sanghyuk as though he was his mother, takes it particularly hard. "I'll miss you, hyung," he says with real tears in his eyes. It's sweet. Sanghyuk tries not to laugh.
"I'll be in the same building," Sanghyuk says, patting Huayu on the back. "I'll still come check on you."
In the meantime, Sanghyuk meets Ham Jangsik in the cafe. Jangsik has been around HYBE for years, first as a manager before working his way up to the content production team. He's one of those guys who knows everyone, a collector of gossip.
"BOYNEXTDOOR, well," Jangsik says. He glances quickly around the cafe, but Sanghyuk chose an isolated table for a reason. "I've heard they can be a little difficult." Sanghyuk must've pulled a face, because he adds, "Nothing bad. They're hard workers, from what I know. Just some strong opinions, you know? Typical idol stuff."
Sanghyuk swirls the ice in his Americano. "Different from trainees then, I guess?"
"Busier, for sure. But there's a lot more staff to handle all of the responsibilities."
[unfinished]
[another random scene from later on in this hypothetical fic]
It's cooler outside than Sanghyuk expected. LA is—what do they call it? A dry heat. He shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks past the designated smoking area to a patch of darkness around a corner, following the seclusion like a homing beacon.
He's just flicked his lighter when he notices someone crouched down against the wall.
"Shit," Sanghyuk says, and then immediately, after realizing who it is, "I mean. Sorry. I didn't see you."
Dongmin looks up at him, elbow resting on his knee, a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. He's wearing black pants, black slides, and a black zip-up, the hood tucked behind his ears. "It's okay. I just wanted to be alone."
"I'll leave you to it, then," Sanghyuk says, pointing back to the direction he came from.
"You can stay," Dongmin says, as though he doesn't care at all. "It's a free country."
It almost feels like it would be weird if he didn't stay after an explicit invitation, so Sanghyuk just leans against the wall and lights his cigarette.
"You know, it kind of looks like you're casing the joint," Sanghyuk says, gesturing to Dongmin's outfit.
Dongmin looks down at his sweatpants, then back up at Sanghyuk, huffing out a short laugh. "Or I'm here to stalk some idols."
"Don't bother trying to bribe me, it's not enough to cover the fines I'd have to pay if I leaked anything," Sanghyuk says.
"Pictures of Han Taesan smoking cigarettes?" Dongmin asks.
Sanghyuk takes a long drag, pretending to think. "Tempting."
----
riwoo time traveling back to meet trainee taesan, also hypothetically ryutaet
Sanghyuk wakes up in a practice room. It's not like waking up from a dream, no fuzzy tendrils of sleep to sift through, no soft fade into awareness. He simply opens his eyes, and he's here, in a practice room Sanghyuk doesn't recognize. It's not their practice room, or even a HYBE practice room as far as he can tell. He gets to his feet uneasily and pats down his pockets for his phone, but there's nothing.
The door opens, and Sanghyuk freezes in place. The boy that steps in has a beanie pulled down low over his face, wired headphones snaking out to the phone in his hand. For a second, while he is distracted by his phone, Sanghyuk is able to observe him unnoticed. His side profile looks a lot like Dongmin, he thinks, then the boy turns to look at him and Sanghyuk does feel like he's dreaming now because it is Dongmin, just younger. Much younger.
Dongmin jerks backwards, startled. "Who are you?"
"What the hell," Sanghyuk says, mostly to himself. On the mirrored wall to his left, he can see that his own face is the same as it was yesterday, still 22 years old, but the Dongmin in front of him can't be more than 15.
"Are you with the company?" Dongmin's eyes narrow suspiciously. He's speaking formally, but Sanghyuk can tell that he's on guard.
"I'm," Sanghyuk starts, but he doesn't have an answer. Everything around him feels too real to be a dream, the ground too solid under his feet. "What year is it?"
"Huh?"
Sanghyuk looks around the room for a calendar or a clock or something. "I just. I just need to know what day it is."
"It's March—" Dongmin has to check his phone. "March 12, 2019."
If it's early 2019, that means Dongmin is still at Source. It means Sanghyuk is out of place by six years. He laughs, feeling hysterical. "You're not going to believe this."
"What?" Dongmin asks.
Sanghyuk throws his hands up. If this is a dream, he might as well figure out why he's here. "I'm from 2025. We're in the same group."
Dongmin does not look impressed. "Yeah, right. Of course."
"Your name is Han Dongmin," Sanghyuk says. He watches as Dongmin slowly removes his earbuds, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"How do you—"
"You're from Gwangju," Sanghyuk continues. "You have a younger brother and a younger sister. You were born on August 10, 2004."
Dongmin's hands clutch the straps of his backpack. It's kind of weird for Sanghyuk to see him scared. "Anyone who works here probably knows those things. Tell me something only someone who knows me would know."
"You like swimming and going hiking. You once threw up on your paper during an English exam. Your dad wanted to name you Taesan, but your grandparents didn't allow it."
Dongmin is silent for long enough that Sanghyuk starts to think that he's getting security called on him for sure. Then, Dongmin says, "I threw up during a Korean exam. Unless you're telling me it's going to happen again in the future."
Sanghyuk's shoulders sag with relief. "Just the once that you told me."
---
boynextdoor pop punk band au circa 2005, pairing undecided (i might still come back to this because i'm a millennial and i was unfortunately shaped by bandom so it's a lot of fun to write this time period. fun fact, my father actually broke his hand tripping on the curb at a fast food restaurant.)
If Sanghyuk absolutely had to break his hand, he wishes he could've at least gotten a cool story out of it. Instead, he'd tripped over the curb on his way into a Taco Bell and fractured several metacarpals in the process of trying to stop himself from hitting the pavement facefirst. Oh yeah, and it happened a week and a half before their tour is set to start. And he didn't even end up getting his chalupa.
"How do you trip and break your hand?" Dongmin asks. "Do you have osteoporosis or something?"
"Leave Sanghyuk alone," Jaehyun says, a promising start. "He and his fragile bones are in pain." Nevermind.
"Actually, it really does hurt," Sanghyuk says, looking down at his cast. He's occupying the entire length of his and Donghyun's couch (he's had a bad day, he deserves it), a stack of lumpy throw pillows elevating his arm per the ER doctor's instructions.
Jaehyun pats him sympathetically. "Do you need anything?"
"Yeah, a bassist," Sungho says.
Which is the worst part of all of this. Not the pain, or having to put his ER bill on the emergency credit card provided to him by his parents even though he's supposed to be independent at this point. No, the worst part is that there's no way Sanghyuk can play bass with his entire left hand immobilized, and, as many times as he's argued with guitarists about which role is more critical, bass is pretty fucking important.
"Have you tried playing with your right hand?" Sungho asks.
"Yeah, I don't think that's going to work."
Donghyun leans up onto the couch. "Can I sign your cast?"
Sanghyuk extends his arm. "Just don't draw a dick, I'm having dinner with my family tomorrow."
"What about a really small dick?"
"A self-portrait," Dongmin says.
"Your mom didn't think it was small," Donghyun calls out on his way to find a permanent marker.
While Donghyun works on a doodle of what appears to be a hamster, Sungho and Jaehyun go through a mental list of every bassist they know. Sohee and Hanbin are on tour with their own bands. They can't stand that guy who was playing with Trainee A enough to tolerate him for however many weeks it will take for Sanghyuk to get his cast off. There's that guy Jaehyun was in a band with years ago who he thinks might've played bass too.
"What's that?" Sanghyuk asks, pointing to something underneath the hamster.
"He's doing an ollie."
"Makes sense."
Donghyun sits back on his heels a minute later, admiring his work. Then he looks at Sungho, scrolling through the contact list on his Sidekick, and as though this is the first time he's noticed what's going on, Donghyun says, "Wait. I know a bassist."
It turns out that Donghyun's, like, third cousin twice removed or something plays bass. Woonhak Kim is newly 19 years old and taller than Sanghyuk by several inches (not hard to achieve), but he's immediately likeable, buck-toothed and kind. They don't so much audition him as Dongmin asks, "You know our songs?" and Woonhak says, "Some of them," before playing a bit of I Feel Good's familiar bassline, to which Jaehyun says, "You're hired."
They spend that last week before the tour starts practicing as Sanghyuk watches from the sidelines until he's roped into helping their manager with some last minute tour logistics because his practice feedback is starting to annoy everyone.
It's just that it's a big deal. Their first headlining tour to promote their first full-length album. The culmination of several years worth of blood, sweat, and tears (heavy on the tears, in Jaehyun's case), a chance to prove themselves. Sanghyuk can't help that being forced to sit it out has made his personality worse. God forbid the guy in the emo band acts emo.
At least Woonhak is as nice as his first impression. He fits in well, looped under Donghyun's arm as they roam Wal-Mart for tour supplies, shoved into the backseat of Sungho's Honda between Jaehyun and Sanghyuk as they quiz him on bands and Woonhak insists, "I'm only three years younger than you, of course I know At the Drive-In." Even Dongmin takes to Woonhak immediately, voluntarily hugging him at the end of their last practice.
Sanghyuk stands at the edge of the garage, watching as everyone loads their equipment into the trailer. It's starting to snow, tiny white crystals that stick to the sleeves of Sanghyuk's hoodie when they land. Sungho comes to stand next to him, breathing hot air into his cupped hands.
"The next time we're back here, it will be April," Sungho says.
"Do you think Woonhak is ready?" Sanghyuk asks.
"Do you think any of us are?"
Sanghyuk looks down at his cast. He rubs his thumb over the BND scrawled across the plaster. "Let's get this fucking show on the road."
Their tour officially kicks off in Atlanta. They leave at 2 AM on the 13 hour drive, 80% of it spent on I-81, endless small towns and the occasional foothill rising up through the trees, shadows against the dawn sky. Sanghyuk takes the first leg since he doesn't exactly have anything to be well-rested for. Jennifer, their tour manager, sleeps beside him in the passenger seat. He plays a few albums—The Academy Is…, Bayside, Midtown, Rise Against—just loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the road.
Mostly, Sanghyuk spends the drive thinking. The five of them have been together since high school. First Sungho and Sanghyuk, who spent all of their sophomore year teaching themselves to play Green Day and Sunny Day Real Estate songs in Sanghyuk's basement. They recruited Dongmin and Donghyun for a talent show their senior year and it stuck. They played whatever gigs they could (church auditoriums, skate parks, opening for only marginally less shitty local bands at bars where they weren't even allowed inside until it was time to play), trying out a few different names before Boy Next Door stuck. Then, Dongmin picked up Jaehyun, fresh off the breakup of both his own high school band and his first long-term relationship, armed with a notebook full of biting lyrics. With the addition of Jaehyun, Sungho was able to put down the guitar and focus on vocals. One demo picked up by a record label and turned into a decently popular EP and here they are.
They stop for bathrooms and breakfast around 8 in the morning, still somewhere in Virginia. Sanghyuk's ass feels numb when he hops out of the van, stretching his arms above his head. The other members emerge from their seats with bedhead and pillow lines creased across their faces.
"Where are we?" Dongmin asks. He squints into the morning light.
Sanghyuk shrugs. "Fuck if I know."
"Not in New Jersey anymore," Jennifer says.
Sanghyuk has a cigarette and two McGriddles and then it's back to the road, this time with Jennifer at the wheel and Sanghyuk sleeping beside her in bursts, lulled to sleep by the engine's hum and the familiar laughs from the backseat.
It's standstill traffic the last 16 miles to the venue, a converted mill in an old industrial part of the city, weathered black paint and brick marking their destination. There are already two vans and trailers parked in the lot behind the venue when Jennifer turns in.
Boy Next Door is touring with Nowadays and All Hours, both bands they know well from Warped Tour and other festivals over the years or from opening together. A dozen guys sprawl out across the parking lot. There are a handful smoking under the shade of a lone tree, while some of the others are playing 3x3 with a basketball and no hoop. Everyone gathers as the BND members climb out of the van, exchanging claps on the back and daps and multiple "Oh nooo, that sucks" when Sanghyuk holds up his injured arm.
"Are we partying tonight?" Yumin asks.
"The first night of tour?" Hyeonbin says. "Obviously."
"Not this kid, he's too young," Jaehyun says, pointing at Woonhak, who gives a hey! of protest. Jaehyun laughs and pushes him toward the trailer to start unloading. "I'm joking, we're not narcs."
They're the first up to sound check. Sanghyuk has never done this from the sidelines, watching as levels are sorted out and wedges are tuned. It seems to hit Sanghyuk for the first time that he won't be up there, that he's just along for the ride, the muscle memory of his basslines useless to him now. The loss of control makes Sanghyuk's wrist throb under the plaster of his cast even though it'd stopped hurting days ago. He walks away when he hears the opening riff of Serenade and his bad mood must be obvious because Donghyun tracks him down 10 minutes later, sitting in their trailer and trying to play Snake on his phone with his right hand.
"Hey," Donghyun says.
Sanghyuk glances up. "Hey. Everything ready to go?"
"Yup, the sound guy is pretty good," Donghyun says, stepping into the trailer and looking at Sanghyuk expectantly.
Sanghyuk snaps his phone shut and scooches over, making room on the storage tote for Donghyun to sit beside him. "What's up?"
"Look, I don't know how you feel, but this is supposed to be fun, right?"
"Playing music is fun," Sanghyuk says.
"I don't know. You get to do all the meeting people and drinking and whatever evil shit Dongmin comes up with for pranks without any of the work." Donghyun bumps his knee against Sanghyuk's. "Sounds pretty fun to me?"
Donghyun is looking at him with a soft, meditative smile. Sanghyuk feels his guard coming down, shoulders sagging. Donghyun is right. He usually is, in his own offbeat way.
"We wouldn't be here without you, you know? So try to enjoy it."
"Thanks," Sanghyuk says. In the distance, he can hear the crash of a snare as the next band starts their soundcheck. Soon, there will be crowds lining the sidewalk in front of the building and inside, the air will be thick with the smell of weed, cigarettes, and PBR. People will be showing up for them, not the bigger band they're opening for. They'll be nodding along to the basslines that Sanghyuk wrote, and even if he's not the one playing them, it won't take away from the moment that he's earned. Sanghyuk presses back against Donghyun's knee.
(Several hours later, as Earth, Wind & Fire swells to its frantic ending, Jaehyun abandons his guitar and drags Sanghyuk onto stage, throwing him into the crowd. Sanghyuk cradles his injured arm to his chest as he's palmed over heads through the crowd, riding the wave of hands, and he can't help but laugh. Maybe this is what making it feels like.)
At the end of the show, everyone migrates to a dive bar down the street, the kind of place that doesn't mind that there are a few underage members between their groups. Sanghyuk doesn't drink—he's not straight edge or anything, just not a fan of losing control—but he joins everyone in a round of vodka shots. "To the tour!" Jaehyun shouts.
The bar has a wide patio with picnic tables and a tall wooden fence that makes the area feel private. Sanghyuk wanders outside, lighting a cigarette. It's early February, but it's Atlanta and the chill in the air is more comfortable than cold, classic hoodie weather. Near the end of his cigarette, the backdoor opens, letting out a loud gust of music. It's Hyeonbin, holding a pipe and an Altoids tin full of weed.
"Do you mind?" he asks, and Sanghyuk shakes his head.
Hyeonbin packs a bowl and takes a long drag, eyes closing as he savors it. Then he tips the pipe towards Sanghyuk. "You want some?"
"If you can hold the lighter," Sanghyuk says, holding up injured hand.
He ashes his cigarette and takes the pipe. Hyeonbin stands facing him, waits for Sanghyuk to nod his head before he flicks the lighter and holds it to the bowl. Even though it feels a little wrong in his right hand, Sanghyuk likes the way the pipe feels against his mouth, the contrast of the smooth glass and the dry heat of the weed when he breathes in. He exhales slowly, watching the smoke float up and away.
"How'd that happen anyway?" Hyeonbin asks, gesturing down at Sanghyuk's cast.
"It was kind of Taco Bell's fault," Sanghyuk says.
Hyeonbin cocks his head at Sanghyuk. "Let me guess. You were arm wrestling a Taco Bell cashier?"
"No." Sanghyuk laughs. "But that would've been a way cooler story. I just took a fall hand-first."
"Hey, you can make that the real story if you want. I won't tell." Hyeonbin finishes a hit from his pipe, then extends it to Sanghyuk. "Want to go again?"
"Do you always share your weed?" Sanghyuk asks before bringing the pipe to his mouth.
"Only on the first night of tour," Hyeonbin says, smiling. "And only with people who deserve it."
Sanghyuk can feel the heat of Hyeonbin's body as they stand toe-to-toe, the heat of his eyes as he watches Sanghyuk inhale. In the immediate head rush of the hit, Sanghyuk is reminded that he used to think Hyeonbin was pretty cute with his big ears and long lashes. For a moment, it's almost like he can feel the soft shell of Hyeonbin's ear between his fingers.
manager!riwoo au, was hypothetically going to be ryutaet
At the end of April, Sanghyuk is reassigned from the team managing BELIFT's male trainees to the BOYNEXTDOOR management team.
It's ostensibly a promotion—managing an active group with an upcoming world tour comes with more responsibilities than chaperoning high school students shuffling between the HYBE building and their trainee dorm—but not one Sanghyuk necessarily understands. He's only been at HYBE for a year and honestly, he bullshitted his way through the English portion of his job interview. He's pretty sure he only got the job because of the recommendation from his boss at the dance academy.
"There's been some restructuring," the leader of the management team explains. "And we're looking to fill these openings internally. Your employment profile is a good fit, Sanghyuk-ssi, and your current team speaks highly of you."
Sanghyuk thinks back to the personality questionnaire from his interview that took him 30 minutes to complete, endless questions like When I leave home, I do not worry about whether the door is locked and the windows are closed, as though his answers could tell the recruiters something about his potential ability to manage idols. Apparently it did.
"Thank you for the opportunity," Sanghyuk says, bowing his head.
"We'll need to revise your security clearances and we'll need an updated copy of your driver's license." The team leader scans the file in her hands, double checking. She then gives Sanghyuk a professional smile. "You can start on Monday."
Sanghyuk, like many of his own coworkers with their own failed dreams, did not intend to become a manager. After his second ACL reconstruction surgery, it became clear that teaching dance full-time was no longer a viable option. He enlisted, completed his social services duty, and was discharged without a real plan of where he was supposed to go next. It was his boss at the dance academy who recommended that he apply at HYBE. He had connections there after sending them a dozen successful trainees over the years, and he could put in a good word for Sanghyuk.
In the end, it kind of worked out. Sanghyuk likes taking care of people, and he's always been levelheaded, calm enough to deal with the inevitable spats and sleep-deprived breakdowns.
He's a little sad to say goodbye to his trainees. A few of them have been around since Sanghyuk started the job and he's watched them go from awkward, pimply teens to slightly less awkward, still pimply teens hungry for debut, a glint of real passion in their eyes.
Tang Huayu, who was like a baby bird that fell out of his nest in Shandong and landed in Korea only to imprint on Sanghyuk as though he was his mother, takes it particularly hard. "I'll miss you, hyung," he says with real tears in his eyes. It's sweet. Sanghyuk tries not to laugh.
"I'll be in the same building," Sanghyuk says, patting Huayu on the back. "I'll still come check on you."
In the meantime, Sanghyuk meets Ham Jangsik in the cafe. Jangsik has been around HYBE for years, first as a manager before working his way up to the content production team. He's one of those guys who knows everyone, a collector of gossip.
"BOYNEXTDOOR, well," Jangsik says. He glances quickly around the cafe, but Sanghyuk chose an isolated table for a reason. "I've heard they can be a little difficult." Sanghyuk must've pulled a face, because he adds, "Nothing bad. They're hard workers, from what I know. Just some strong opinions, you know? Typical idol stuff."
Sanghyuk swirls the ice in his Americano. "Different from trainees then, I guess?"
"Busier, for sure. But there's a lot more staff to handle all of the responsibilities."
[unfinished]
[another random scene from later on in this hypothetical fic]
It's cooler outside than Sanghyuk expected. LA is—what do they call it? A dry heat. He shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks past the designated smoking area to a patch of darkness around a corner, following the seclusion like a homing beacon.
He's just flicked his lighter when he notices someone crouched down against the wall.
"Shit," Sanghyuk says, and then immediately, after realizing who it is, "I mean. Sorry. I didn't see you."
Dongmin looks up at him, elbow resting on his knee, a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. He's wearing black pants, black slides, and a black zip-up, the hood tucked behind his ears. "It's okay. I just wanted to be alone."
"I'll leave you to it, then," Sanghyuk says, pointing back to the direction he came from.
"You can stay," Dongmin says, as though he doesn't care at all. "It's a free country."
It almost feels like it would be weird if he didn't stay after an explicit invitation, so Sanghyuk just leans against the wall and lights his cigarette.
"You know, it kind of looks like you're casing the joint," Sanghyuk says, gesturing to Dongmin's outfit.
Dongmin looks down at his sweatpants, then back up at Sanghyuk, huffing out a short laugh. "Or I'm here to stalk some idols."
"Don't bother trying to bribe me, it's not enough to cover the fines I'd have to pay if I leaked anything," Sanghyuk says.
"Pictures of Han Taesan smoking cigarettes?" Dongmin asks.
Sanghyuk takes a long drag, pretending to think. "Tempting."
----
riwoo time traveling back to meet trainee taesan, also hypothetically ryutaet
Sanghyuk wakes up in a practice room. It's not like waking up from a dream, no fuzzy tendrils of sleep to sift through, no soft fade into awareness. He simply opens his eyes, and he's here, in a practice room Sanghyuk doesn't recognize. It's not their practice room, or even a HYBE practice room as far as he can tell. He gets to his feet uneasily and pats down his pockets for his phone, but there's nothing.
The door opens, and Sanghyuk freezes in place. The boy that steps in has a beanie pulled down low over his face, wired headphones snaking out to the phone in his hand. For a second, while he is distracted by his phone, Sanghyuk is able to observe him unnoticed. His side profile looks a lot like Dongmin, he thinks, then the boy turns to look at him and Sanghyuk does feel like he's dreaming now because it is Dongmin, just younger. Much younger.
Dongmin jerks backwards, startled. "Who are you?"
"What the hell," Sanghyuk says, mostly to himself. On the mirrored wall to his left, he can see that his own face is the same as it was yesterday, still 22 years old, but the Dongmin in front of him can't be more than 15.
"Are you with the company?" Dongmin's eyes narrow suspiciously. He's speaking formally, but Sanghyuk can tell that he's on guard.
"I'm," Sanghyuk starts, but he doesn't have an answer. Everything around him feels too real to be a dream, the ground too solid under his feet. "What year is it?"
"Huh?"
Sanghyuk looks around the room for a calendar or a clock or something. "I just. I just need to know what day it is."
"It's March—" Dongmin has to check his phone. "March 12, 2019."
If it's early 2019, that means Dongmin is still at Source. It means Sanghyuk is out of place by six years. He laughs, feeling hysterical. "You're not going to believe this."
"What?" Dongmin asks.
Sanghyuk throws his hands up. If this is a dream, he might as well figure out why he's here. "I'm from 2025. We're in the same group."
Dongmin does not look impressed. "Yeah, right. Of course."
"Your name is Han Dongmin," Sanghyuk says. He watches as Dongmin slowly removes his earbuds, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"How do you—"
"You're from Gwangju," Sanghyuk continues. "You have a younger brother and a younger sister. You were born on August 10, 2004."
Dongmin's hands clutch the straps of his backpack. It's kind of weird for Sanghyuk to see him scared. "Anyone who works here probably knows those things. Tell me something only someone who knows me would know."
"You like swimming and going hiking. You once threw up on your paper during an English exam. Your dad wanted to name you Taesan, but your grandparents didn't allow it."
Dongmin is silent for long enough that Sanghyuk starts to think that he's getting security called on him for sure. Then, Dongmin says, "I threw up during a Korean exam. Unless you're telling me it's going to happen again in the future."
Sanghyuk's shoulders sag with relief. "Just the once that you told me."
---
boynextdoor pop punk band au circa 2005, pairing undecided (i might still come back to this because i'm a millennial and i was unfortunately shaped by bandom so it's a lot of fun to write this time period. fun fact, my father actually broke his hand tripping on the curb at a fast food restaurant.)
If Sanghyuk absolutely had to break his hand, he wishes he could've at least gotten a cool story out of it. Instead, he'd tripped over the curb on his way into a Taco Bell and fractured several metacarpals in the process of trying to stop himself from hitting the pavement facefirst. Oh yeah, and it happened a week and a half before their tour is set to start. And he didn't even end up getting his chalupa.
"How do you trip and break your hand?" Dongmin asks. "Do you have osteoporosis or something?"
"Leave Sanghyuk alone," Jaehyun says, a promising start. "He and his fragile bones are in pain." Nevermind.
"Actually, it really does hurt," Sanghyuk says, looking down at his cast. He's occupying the entire length of his and Donghyun's couch (he's had a bad day, he deserves it), a stack of lumpy throw pillows elevating his arm per the ER doctor's instructions.
Jaehyun pats him sympathetically. "Do you need anything?"
"Yeah, a bassist," Sungho says.
Which is the worst part of all of this. Not the pain, or having to put his ER bill on the emergency credit card provided to him by his parents even though he's supposed to be independent at this point. No, the worst part is that there's no way Sanghyuk can play bass with his entire left hand immobilized, and, as many times as he's argued with guitarists about which role is more critical, bass is pretty fucking important.
"Have you tried playing with your right hand?" Sungho asks.
"Yeah, I don't think that's going to work."
Donghyun leans up onto the couch. "Can I sign your cast?"
Sanghyuk extends his arm. "Just don't draw a dick, I'm having dinner with my family tomorrow."
"What about a really small dick?"
"A self-portrait," Dongmin says.
"Your mom didn't think it was small," Donghyun calls out on his way to find a permanent marker.
While Donghyun works on a doodle of what appears to be a hamster, Sungho and Jaehyun go through a mental list of every bassist they know. Sohee and Hanbin are on tour with their own bands. They can't stand that guy who was playing with Trainee A enough to tolerate him for however many weeks it will take for Sanghyuk to get his cast off. There's that guy Jaehyun was in a band with years ago who he thinks might've played bass too.
"What's that?" Sanghyuk asks, pointing to something underneath the hamster.
"He's doing an ollie."
"Makes sense."
Donghyun sits back on his heels a minute later, admiring his work. Then he looks at Sungho, scrolling through the contact list on his Sidekick, and as though this is the first time he's noticed what's going on, Donghyun says, "Wait. I know a bassist."
It turns out that Donghyun's, like, third cousin twice removed or something plays bass. Woonhak Kim is newly 19 years old and taller than Sanghyuk by several inches (not hard to achieve), but he's immediately likeable, buck-toothed and kind. They don't so much audition him as Dongmin asks, "You know our songs?" and Woonhak says, "Some of them," before playing a bit of I Feel Good's familiar bassline, to which Jaehyun says, "You're hired."
They spend that last week before the tour starts practicing as Sanghyuk watches from the sidelines until he's roped into helping their manager with some last minute tour logistics because his practice feedback is starting to annoy everyone.
It's just that it's a big deal. Their first headlining tour to promote their first full-length album. The culmination of several years worth of blood, sweat, and tears (heavy on the tears, in Jaehyun's case), a chance to prove themselves. Sanghyuk can't help that being forced to sit it out has made his personality worse. God forbid the guy in the emo band acts emo.
At least Woonhak is as nice as his first impression. He fits in well, looped under Donghyun's arm as they roam Wal-Mart for tour supplies, shoved into the backseat of Sungho's Honda between Jaehyun and Sanghyuk as they quiz him on bands and Woonhak insists, "I'm only three years younger than you, of course I know At the Drive-In." Even Dongmin takes to Woonhak immediately, voluntarily hugging him at the end of their last practice.
Sanghyuk stands at the edge of the garage, watching as everyone loads their equipment into the trailer. It's starting to snow, tiny white crystals that stick to the sleeves of Sanghyuk's hoodie when they land. Sungho comes to stand next to him, breathing hot air into his cupped hands.
"The next time we're back here, it will be April," Sungho says.
"Do you think Woonhak is ready?" Sanghyuk asks.
"Do you think any of us are?"
Sanghyuk looks down at his cast. He rubs his thumb over the BND scrawled across the plaster. "Let's get this fucking show on the road."
Their tour officially kicks off in Atlanta. They leave at 2 AM on the 13 hour drive, 80% of it spent on I-81, endless small towns and the occasional foothill rising up through the trees, shadows against the dawn sky. Sanghyuk takes the first leg since he doesn't exactly have anything to be well-rested for. Jennifer, their tour manager, sleeps beside him in the passenger seat. He plays a few albums—The Academy Is…, Bayside, Midtown, Rise Against—just loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the road.
Mostly, Sanghyuk spends the drive thinking. The five of them have been together since high school. First Sungho and Sanghyuk, who spent all of their sophomore year teaching themselves to play Green Day and Sunny Day Real Estate songs in Sanghyuk's basement. They recruited Dongmin and Donghyun for a talent show their senior year and it stuck. They played whatever gigs they could (church auditoriums, skate parks, opening for only marginally less shitty local bands at bars where they weren't even allowed inside until it was time to play), trying out a few different names before Boy Next Door stuck. Then, Dongmin picked up Jaehyun, fresh off the breakup of both his own high school band and his first long-term relationship, armed with a notebook full of biting lyrics. With the addition of Jaehyun, Sungho was able to put down the guitar and focus on vocals. One demo picked up by a record label and turned into a decently popular EP and here they are.
They stop for bathrooms and breakfast around 8 in the morning, still somewhere in Virginia. Sanghyuk's ass feels numb when he hops out of the van, stretching his arms above his head. The other members emerge from their seats with bedhead and pillow lines creased across their faces.
"Where are we?" Dongmin asks. He squints into the morning light.
Sanghyuk shrugs. "Fuck if I know."
"Not in New Jersey anymore," Jennifer says.
Sanghyuk has a cigarette and two McGriddles and then it's back to the road, this time with Jennifer at the wheel and Sanghyuk sleeping beside her in bursts, lulled to sleep by the engine's hum and the familiar laughs from the backseat.
It's standstill traffic the last 16 miles to the venue, a converted mill in an old industrial part of the city, weathered black paint and brick marking their destination. There are already two vans and trailers parked in the lot behind the venue when Jennifer turns in.
Boy Next Door is touring with Nowadays and All Hours, both bands they know well from Warped Tour and other festivals over the years or from opening together. A dozen guys sprawl out across the parking lot. There are a handful smoking under the shade of a lone tree, while some of the others are playing 3x3 with a basketball and no hoop. Everyone gathers as the BND members climb out of the van, exchanging claps on the back and daps and multiple "Oh nooo, that sucks" when Sanghyuk holds up his injured arm.
"Are we partying tonight?" Yumin asks.
"The first night of tour?" Hyeonbin says. "Obviously."
"Not this kid, he's too young," Jaehyun says, pointing at Woonhak, who gives a hey! of protest. Jaehyun laughs and pushes him toward the trailer to start unloading. "I'm joking, we're not narcs."
They're the first up to sound check. Sanghyuk has never done this from the sidelines, watching as levels are sorted out and wedges are tuned. It seems to hit Sanghyuk for the first time that he won't be up there, that he's just along for the ride, the muscle memory of his basslines useless to him now. The loss of control makes Sanghyuk's wrist throb under the plaster of his cast even though it'd stopped hurting days ago. He walks away when he hears the opening riff of Serenade and his bad mood must be obvious because Donghyun tracks him down 10 minutes later, sitting in their trailer and trying to play Snake on his phone with his right hand.
"Hey," Donghyun says.
Sanghyuk glances up. "Hey. Everything ready to go?"
"Yup, the sound guy is pretty good," Donghyun says, stepping into the trailer and looking at Sanghyuk expectantly.
Sanghyuk snaps his phone shut and scooches over, making room on the storage tote for Donghyun to sit beside him. "What's up?"
"Look, I don't know how you feel, but this is supposed to be fun, right?"
"Playing music is fun," Sanghyuk says.
"I don't know. You get to do all the meeting people and drinking and whatever evil shit Dongmin comes up with for pranks without any of the work." Donghyun bumps his knee against Sanghyuk's. "Sounds pretty fun to me?"
Donghyun is looking at him with a soft, meditative smile. Sanghyuk feels his guard coming down, shoulders sagging. Donghyun is right. He usually is, in his own offbeat way.
"We wouldn't be here without you, you know? So try to enjoy it."
"Thanks," Sanghyuk says. In the distance, he can hear the crash of a snare as the next band starts their soundcheck. Soon, there will be crowds lining the sidewalk in front of the building and inside, the air will be thick with the smell of weed, cigarettes, and PBR. People will be showing up for them, not the bigger band they're opening for. They'll be nodding along to the basslines that Sanghyuk wrote, and even if he's not the one playing them, it won't take away from the moment that he's earned. Sanghyuk presses back against Donghyun's knee.
(Several hours later, as Earth, Wind & Fire swells to its frantic ending, Jaehyun abandons his guitar and drags Sanghyuk onto stage, throwing him into the crowd. Sanghyuk cradles his injured arm to his chest as he's palmed over heads through the crowd, riding the wave of hands, and he can't help but laugh. Maybe this is what making it feels like.)
At the end of the show, everyone migrates to a dive bar down the street, the kind of place that doesn't mind that there are a few underage members between their groups. Sanghyuk doesn't drink—he's not straight edge or anything, just not a fan of losing control—but he joins everyone in a round of vodka shots. "To the tour!" Jaehyun shouts.
The bar has a wide patio with picnic tables and a tall wooden fence that makes the area feel private. Sanghyuk wanders outside, lighting a cigarette. It's early February, but it's Atlanta and the chill in the air is more comfortable than cold, classic hoodie weather. Near the end of his cigarette, the backdoor opens, letting out a loud gust of music. It's Hyeonbin, holding a pipe and an Altoids tin full of weed.
"Do you mind?" he asks, and Sanghyuk shakes his head.
Hyeonbin packs a bowl and takes a long drag, eyes closing as he savors it. Then he tips the pipe towards Sanghyuk. "You want some?"
"If you can hold the lighter," Sanghyuk says, holding up injured hand.
He ashes his cigarette and takes the pipe. Hyeonbin stands facing him, waits for Sanghyuk to nod his head before he flicks the lighter and holds it to the bowl. Even though it feels a little wrong in his right hand, Sanghyuk likes the way the pipe feels against his mouth, the contrast of the smooth glass and the dry heat of the weed when he breathes in. He exhales slowly, watching the smoke float up and away.
"How'd that happen anyway?" Hyeonbin asks, gesturing down at Sanghyuk's cast.
"It was kind of Taco Bell's fault," Sanghyuk says.
Hyeonbin cocks his head at Sanghyuk. "Let me guess. You were arm wrestling a Taco Bell cashier?"
"No." Sanghyuk laughs. "But that would've been a way cooler story. I just took a fall hand-first."
"Hey, you can make that the real story if you want. I won't tell." Hyeonbin finishes a hit from his pipe, then extends it to Sanghyuk. "Want to go again?"
"Do you always share your weed?" Sanghyuk asks before bringing the pipe to his mouth.
"Only on the first night of tour," Hyeonbin says, smiling. "And only with people who deserve it."
Sanghyuk can feel the heat of Hyeonbin's body as they stand toe-to-toe, the heat of his eyes as he watches Sanghyuk inhale. In the immediate head rush of the hit, Sanghyuk is reminded that he used to think Hyeonbin was pretty cute with his big ears and long lashes. For a moment, it's almost like he can feel the soft shell of Hyeonbin's ear between his fingers.