“are you sure you want-” hongbin starts for the nth time, and wonsik sends him a Look which hongbin imitates sarcastically.

“yes.” 

“just checking. you know. ‘cos tattoos are permanent and all. you know that, right?”

“really,” wonsik fakes surprise, and perks up at the sight of the street they were headed for through the window of the taxi. “you mean i can’t just scrub it off if i get tired of it?”

hongbin shoves him in reply as they exit the taxi, hongbin pocketing wonsik’s change. “i still can’t believe your mom said yes.”

“she trusts me. unlike some people,” wonsik cuts his eyes back at hongbin, and hongbin just snags the hem of wonsik’s shirt as he follows wonsik into a side alley, resolving to hold his tongue. i trust you. i just don’t trust your taste.

hongbin feels intimidated and awkward as hell going into the nondescript tattoo parlour, knowing the two of them must look like idiots coming in here; wonsik with a beanie jammed low on his head to hide his latest ridiculous hair colour and hoodies and masks on in case anyone sees them. look at the silly little idols trying to buy some street cred, hongbin thinks with a sinking feeling. 

an artist hails them and wonsik greets him back, hongbin quickly bowing. this place is new to him; jaehwan had gone with wonsik the first time to discuss the tattoo and set the appointment for the actual thing, and hongbin wonders why jaehwan hadn’t tried to change his mind. ‘forever young’ of all things? really? hongbin then remembers how hurt wonsik had been when he’d told hongbin and hongbin had laughed in his face. hongbin bites the inside of his cheek.

the artist casts a cursory look over hongbin standing next to wonsik.

“friend?” he asks wonsik, and hongbin blinks at the tone of the question until he remembers he’s still holding on to wonsik and lets go quickly. wonsik doesn’t seem to notice. 

hongbin sits by trying not to fidget as the artist works on wonsik’s arm, and wonders why wonsik wants to get it all done in one shot when one hour ticks by, and then two. it’s fascinating, seeing the tattoo take shape on wonsik’s skin. he isn’t sure how he’s going to get used to it being there forever now.

“how are you going to cover it up on broadcast?” hongbin asks. wonsik just shrugs in response - he’s sweating, the giant marshmallow. “it’s almost done, i think, just hang in there a little bit more,” hongbin tells him comfortingly, and wonsik glares. the tattoo artist snorts.

it’s swollen and red with irritation when the artist finally finishes, and the protective sheet he sticks over wonsik’s skin slowly fills up underneath with a pale layer of blood. it’s ugly as hell, hongbin thinks, and yet it looks hot on wonsik. is it tattoos in general, or just wonsik? hongbin sighs internally at himself, something he finds himself doing a lot lately when it comes to wonsik.

“keep it clean,” the artist warns. “don’t pick the scabs off when they form.”

hongbin helps wonsik off the reclining chair and carries his bag for him unasked, but wonsik quickly takes it back from him in embarrassment. hongbin remembers to be careful with wonsik’s arm all the way until they reach their dorm and wonsik says something that makes him laugh - he hits wonsik in the arm in his mirth, and wonsik’s face immediately goes pale. 

“if he hears you say that - oh , i’m sorry i’m so sorry-”

hongbin fumbles with the keys to the door and pushes a softly groaning wonsik inside, wonsik cradling his arm with his other hand. 

“bin, you just HAD to, didn’t you?”

hongbin peels away wonsik’s hand and his eyes go wide at the stains on his sleeve. “, are you bleeding?” he pushes up wonsik’s sleeve and fresh blood is indeed blooming underneath the protective sheet, leaking out from under it slowly. 

hongbin bustles him into the kitchen where they’re joined by the others one by one until the entire gang is jammed into the tiny space, helpfully handing hongbin antiseptic and dampened gauze while crowding around wonsik with oohs and ahs like he was an interesting specimen at the zoo. 

wonsik is saved from his terrible hongbin-induced injury in time, the protective sheet slowly peeled off and the blood cleaned up painstakingly gently, hongbin taking no chances this time. hongbin makes him coffee and brings it to him on the couch once the others have gone back to whatever they were doing before.

“i can hold it for you,” he offers, and wonsik laughs, the corners of his eyes going crinkly in the way hongbin likes so much.

“i have another arm,” wonsik says, wiggling it as proof. “i think i can hold my own cup.”

“i’m really sorry,” hongbin repeats, and wonsik waves it away. “just be careful around me for the next two weeks or so till it heals.”

“two weeks? that long?”

wonsik nods, sipping from his cup. “so, you like it?”

hongbin bites the inside of his cheek before answering. “yeah. it looks really good on you.”

“you mean it?” wonsik asks, looking like he’s going to break into a big smile, and hongbin really wants to roll his own eyes at himself at the way his insides are starting to melt. 

“yeah. i do. it’s hot on you,” hongbin says (internal sigh). “the fans will love it,” he remembers to add.

“as long as you like it,” wonsik says, cooing, and hongbin really does roll his eyes this time. 

“shut up before i hit you again.” (internal sigh.)