ah yes here is six thousand words of dumb bobby trying to make friends with junhoe.

some creative liberties with canon events were taken, and i've never played call of duty before. lol.

1.

When Bobby first finds out that a fourth trainee is going to join their ragtag group of Kims, he’s a little anxious.

(A little would be an understatement – all three of them are incredibly nervous, and somehow the combined worry has turned all of them into complete wrecks. Even Jinhwan, usually their solid rock in these sorts of situations, is anxious. They’ve all been together, just the three of them, for two years – how’s a new kid going to fit in?)

They don’t know much about him – only that his name is Junhoe, he’s younger than all of them (Hanbin’s pleased, of course – eager for someone else they can pick on), and specializes in vocals and dance.

The three of them are sitting in one of YG’s conference rooms in stony silence, waiting, when the door opens.

The first thing that Bobby notices about the new kid is his height. Even though they’re all sitting, Bobby can tell that the new kid is at least his height, if not taller. Hanbin’s gonna be pissed.

“I’m Koo Junhoe. I’m fourteen, and I sing and dance. ‘s nice to meet you.”

Junhoe bows, his face settling into an expression that Bobby can only describe as mildly displeased when he straightens back up (although it might just be his eyebrows, Bobby thinks.)

“I’m Kim Jinhwan, and I’m eighteen,” the oldest introduces, standing up and extending a hand toward Junhoe. “I was the only singer in this group, ‘til you came.”

Hanbin stands up, too, and reaches out after Junhoe’s done greeting Jinhwan. Bobby can see that he’s got an assertive handshake – like he knows what he wants, and knows he’s going to get it.

“Kim Hanbin, sixteen. I’m the leader, sort of. I rap, compose, write lyrics, and choreograph.”

“You do all that, and you still can’t find a pair of scissors?” Bobby hears Junhoe mutter, shooting a glance at Hanbin’s fitted before he turns to greet the final person in the room. Bobby fixes a smile on his face, and sticks out his hand.

“My name’s Kim Jiwon, but you can call me Bobby. No one calls me Jiwon except my mom, pretty much. I’m seventeen, and I’m kinda like Hanbin, except I don’t dance too well.”

Junhoe raises an eyebrow as he shakes Bobby’s hand (he was right about the assertive thing). “Are you foreign? Or do you just have an English name for fun?”

Jinhwan chuckles nervously.

“I lived in America for a few years before coming here,” Bobby says, “it was easier to use an English name, and I kinda like it better, anyways. Makes me different.”

Junhoe says nothing, but Bobby gets the distinct feeling that Junhoe’s judging him and all his life choices. It’s not a feeling he’s unfamiliar with, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t unnerving.

“So what happens now?” Junhoe asks, “Apparently I’m living with you guys?”

“Ah…” Bobby mutters. He’d completely forgotten about that. The three of them had lived in a dorm meant for four, and they liked each other enough that they shared one bedroom between them, but he could see how this would cause problems. Namely, Hanbin’s ego wouldn’t let the new guy and maknae have a whole room to himself, but the three don’t really want to split up. Granted, it probably would be more comfortable – there’s only a bunk bed in there, so they rotate between the beds and the floor or sharing, and they’re lucky they’ve already passed the awkward stage of accidentally (or not) touching each other in various stages of undress, but still.

“We’ll show you to the dorm,” Jinhwan says smoothly, shooting Bobby and Hanbin a look that means they need to talk about this later. Hanbin gives the smallest of nods, and they all stand up. Bobby reaches for one of Junhoe’s suitcases, the youngest barely acknowledging him as Jinhwan leads them to the elevator.

The ride is tense. Usually he and Hanbin would be cracking dumb jokes while Jinhwan looks at them fondly, or making up some weird songs about cracks in the sidewalk and flashing lights, but none of them know how to react to Junhoe’s presence in their midst.

“So, Junhoe,” Jinhwan says as they leave the building and approach one of the company vans, “tell us about yourself.”

“Like what?” Junhoe asks, ignoring Bobby’s silent plea for assistance in putting his suitcases in the trunk.

“Y’know, like why’d you decide to come here? Dirty pasts? Hobbies? Anything, really.”

Junhoe climbs into the back with Jinhwan, stretching out so there’s no room for a third. Hanbin shrugs and takes one of the seats in the row in front, and motions for Bobby to do the same.

“I was on K-Pop Star,” Junhoe says, “part of a group. We didn’t make it far, though. We all kinda .”

“Did you meet Lee Hayi?” Hanbin asks, craning his neck over. Bobby and Jinhwan stifle laughs – Hanbin had developed a bit of a crush during his sporadic watching of the show. The finale’s in a few weeks, and Hanbin’s bet them twenty thousand won that Hayi’s going to win.

Junhoe leans back, grinning. “Sat next to her and ate a few times.”

Hanbin groans, and Jinhwan rubs his shoulder. “There there, Hanbin. With any luck, she’ll sign with YG.”

This perks Hanbin right up again, and Bobby catches Junhoe rolling his eyes. At least he’s already clued in to the fact that Hanbin’s a complete loser.

“I was on Star King a couple of years ago, too,” Junhoe says, “dancing to Michael Jackson.”

“You must be good, then,” Jinhwan says, and Junhoe grins.

“I’ll show you at our first practice, hyung.”

“You like Michael Jackson?” Jinhwan asks.

Junhoe nods. “I have almost all his albums. He’s such a great singer, and his dances are top-notch. I haven’t seen anyone more influential than him yet.”

“I like him, too,” Bobby says, eager to jump into the conversation.

“That’s nice,” Junhoe replies, “any particular song?”

“Uh, Thriller is pretty good.”

Bobby can almost hear Junhoe scoff as he turns to face Jinhwan again.

“What about you, hyung?”

Bobby slumps down in his seat, feeling completely and utterly rejected as Jinhwan starts talking about some Michael Jackson B-side he’s never heard of in his life, easily seguing into his own favorite musicians.

“There there,” Hanbin says, a poor imitation of Jinhwan, “you’ll get your chance, hyung.”

2.

Junhoe’s still talking to Jinhwan when the van pulls up in front of their dorm, pulling out his luggage. He doesn’t let Jinhwan help him, rebuffed with a “no, hyung, I can handle it,” instead of Bobby’s forced servitude.

“Nice place,” Junhoe says as Hanbin flicks on the light and they take off their shoes. It’s a bit of a mess – bowls from breakfast still on the table, and dirty clothes strewn about, but it’s nothing less than one would expect from a group of teenage boys.

“You can take this room,” Jinhwan says, leading him to the unused one. “You can set up, unpack and stuff. I gotta talk to these guys.”

Junhoe nods, taking his luggage in. Once the door closes, Jinhwan grabs Hanbin and Bobby and drags them to their room, closing the door behind them.

“So what do we think,” he says, sitting on his bed. Bobby sits on the floor, Hanbin next to him, and takes out his Pooh.

Hanbin shrugs. “Seems like a decent kid. Got some talent, obviously, if he’s been on TV before. Who’s gonna room with him?”

“I think I should,” Jinhwan says, shushing Bobby before he can protest. “He seems to like me the best.”

“You mean he doesn’t like either of us,” Bobby says.

Jinhwan sighs. “Don’t say that. He’s probably just overwhelmed, he’ll warm up to you. You’re friendly enough.”

“I guess.” Bobby’s not entirely convinced, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“So it’s settled, then?” Jinhwan asks. “I’ll probably leave most of my stuff here, it’s kind of a bother to move everything. But I’ll sleep over there. It’ll be nice for a change, y’know?”

He gets up to go next door, and Bobby hears him knock on the door before going in.

There’s gonna be a lot of knocking, Bobby sighs to himself. Lots of re-setting and re-pushing boundaries.

They splurge a bit for dinner that night, buying a pack of meat at the grocery store and grilling it up. Hanbin gets shafted to cooking duty, “for the last time,” he vows, prodding the pork in the pan.

Dinner, too, is in relative silence, save for the sounds of eating. For once, Bobby thinks, Jinhwan doesn’t have to admonish either of them for talking with their mouths full, but he almost misses the oldest’s nagging.

“We start group practice tomorrow,” Hanbin says, breaking the silence as he wraps some meat in lettuce. “We’ll have to test you a bit, first, though. To see what you’ve got and need to work on.”

“Sounds fine,” Junhoe replies through a mouthful of meat. “Anything else I should know?”

Hanbin shrugs. “Not really. We usually spend each month practicing for the monthly evaluation – you know about that right?” He looks up at Junhoe, who nods. “Yeah. Sajangnim’s letting us skip the one at the end of this month since you just joined, but we’re gonna start prepping for the next one soon. Pretty straightforward, one song, one dance, so we’ll probably spend a few days picking it out next week.”

Junhoe nods, returning to his food, and the conversation dies again. Bobby decides to amuse himself by making faces at Jinhwan across the table, earning him a kick to the shin.

Junhoe helps Jinhwan clear the table when they’re done, Jinhwan shooting Bobby a very pointed look when he tries to assist (really, it’s not his fault that every time he does the dishes it ends up in a water fight).

Bobby sighs, retreating to the bathroom to wash up for bed. He takes a few extra minutes in the shower, pondering over the day’s events and wondering just how Junhoe’s going to fare in training. Hanbin’s notoriously tough, so Junhoe’d better be something special to hold up.

Hanbin enters their room, a towel draped over his wet hair. He nods once to Bobby, then sits down next to Bobby on his bunk.

“’s weird,” Hanbin mutters, and Bobby hums his assent, letting Hanbin lean on him, wet towel scratching his shoulder.

“At least we won’t trip over Jinhwan in the morning anymore,” Bobby says, and he feels Hanbin nod, but it’s a bit forlorn.

First days are always the hardest.

*

To everyone’s surprise, Junhoe is, to put it simply, ing beast.

They went through vocals first, their trainer asking Junhoe to sing anything he wanted without a backtrack. He goes for an English R&B song that Bobby thinks is familiar but can’t quite recall, clearing his throat and readying himself.

And he just goes.

His voice is completely different that Jinhwan’s – deeper, huskier, more powerful. It’s raw and unpolished, but there’s something undeniably pulling about it. Bobby’s no vocal expert, but he knows something good when he sees it.

Then there was the dance.

No sooner had Hanbin put on the music than Junhoe went hard, bobbing his body for a few beats before breaking out into something so smooth and powerful that Bobby swore had to have been pre-choreographed.

Hanbin stops the music when the song ends, eyes wide as he voices exactly what the other two are thinking: “You’ve done that before, right?”

“Well,” Junhoe replies, breathless as he smooths back his sweat-dampened bangs, “I’m familiar with the song, but I can’t say I’ve ever done a complete choreo for it… bits and pieces, I guess.”

“You’re good,” Hanbin says, half to himself, “a different style than me, but way better than Bobby-hyung.”

“Hey!” Bobby protests half-heartedly, but he’s not offended. He’s a perfectly competent dancer (although Hanbin tells him he tends to be half a beat behind), but he’s nothing spectacular.

“We’ll need to work on a couple of things, tighten up your moves,” Hanbin says, tapping his chin with a pen, “but there isn’t really a whole lot I need to do with you.”

“Oh,” Junhoe says, trying his best to sound nonchalant, but Bobby can tell he sounds pleased with himself, “that’s cool.”

They spend the rest of practice going over choreography that Hanbin’s either thought up at some unholy hour of the night or found off the internet. Bobby kind of wants to die, and Jinhwan’s not much better off, but Junhoe’s got this almost-angry expression on his face that Bobby’s not sure how to read.

Hanbin finally calls for the end of practice, and Bobby sets about to making himself one with the floor.

“Hyung, what can I do?”

Bobby stares up at Junhoe. “What?”

“You know,” Junhoe says, wiping at his forehead with the hem of his shirt, “so I can get better?”

Bobby’s not entirely sure how to answer this. “Um… just keep practicing?”

Junhoe rolls his eyes and runs over to Jinhwan, presumably to ask the same question. Jinhwan, at least, seems more inclined to humor him, ruffling his hair and leaving the practice room with him.

A face invades his field of vision – Hanbin.

“Get up,” he says, throwing a towel over Bobby, “you look disgusting.”

“No more than you,” Bobby jokes. He pulls the towel off his face and accepts Hanbin’s outstretched hand with his empty one, rising laboriously to his feet.

“What do you think of him?” Hanbin asks. It’s obvious who he’s talking about, even without mentioning the name.

“Does it really matter what I think?” Bobby laughs, wrapping the towel around his shoulders as he follows Hanbin out of the room. “Your heart of stone has finally been moved.”

“I do not have a heart of stone,” Hanbin retorts.

“Right, I forgot about your tendency to fall for any girl who looks at you for more than five seconds. You might want to fix that if we’re gonna become teenage heartthrobs, y’know? Can’t go around falling for everyone.”

“I hate you,” Hanbin groans, “Can we just keep Junhoe?”

The two of them have almost caught up with Jinhwan and Junhoe – the two of them are pressed close together, sharing a pair of earbuds. Bobby seriously wants to know what kind of overnight witchcraft Jinhwan worked on Junhoe.

“If you can teach Junhoe how to rap,” Bobby says, “go ahead and send me back to ia.”

Junhoe turns around at the sound of his name, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you want me to learn how to rap? I could, if you want. Would that make me better?”

Junhoe asks this with so much seriousness that Bobby starts laughing. “Kid, knock yourself out.”

*

Bobby had forgotten all about his offhand comment a few hours later, which is why he’s incredibly confused when Junhoe sits the three of them down after practice two days later, then proceeds to spit out eight bars of Common’s Blue Sky.

Jinhwan claps enthusiastically, Hanbin looks more than a little dumbfounded, and Bobby himself—

Well, he laughs.

Very loudly.

So much, in fact, that he falls over backwards with a loud thud. Hanbin automatically turns toward him, shaking his head in a mixture of exasperation and fondness that seems to follow almost everything Bobby does. Jinhwan reaches out for him, but abruptly jumps to his feet and runs out of the room.

Junhoe doesn’t talk to Bobby for the rest of the day.

3.

A week and a half later, another trainee, Song Yunhyeong, joins them. Personality-wise, he assimilates much better than Junhoe had – he’s relatively agreeable, and takes to caring for them in a different way than Jinhwan does, despite he himself being in an unfamiliar environment. It’s kind of nice, Bobby thinks, to have another older member around.

(It’s also great to have Jinhwan back in the room; the second bedroom has since been dubbed the newbie room, and Yunhyeong shoved in with Junhoe. Bobby hopes the older comes out unscathed. He likes him.)

Unfortunately, they’re starting from ground zero with him.

“I originally joined for acting,” he tells them sheepishly, “but sajangnim said I should join you guys.”

Jinhwan lets out a long sigh, and Hanbin looks a bit annoyed, but they agree to start training him hardcore in vocals and dance.

This arrangement ends up leaving Bobby and Junhoe alone together quite often.

Much to Bobby’s dismay, the youngest is still an enigma to him. Sure, they’ve learned some of each other’s likes and dislikes and the general outlines of habits, but Junhoe still isn’t open with him, no matter how hard he tries. The furthest they’ve gotten is dropping honorifics, but Bobby suspects that Junhoe just wanted any excuse he could to not have to show extra respect.

It’s weird – Bobby likes to think of himself as a relatively friendly and well-liked person, but Junhoe seems hell-bent on ignoring his existence (and Hanbin’s, really), primarily talking to Jinhwan and occasionally Yunhyeong.

And thus begins Bobby’s mission: Operation Befriend Junhoe.

(“You know if you keep calling it ‘Operation BJ’ it sounds like you want to his ?”

“Shut up, Hanbin.”)

“Hey,” Bobby says, as he plops down on the sofa next to Junhoe, who’s attached to his iPad. “Looks like it’s just us again.”

Junhoe moves over a centimeter away from Bobby, eyes still fixed on the screen. “Yep.”

“Alone together.”

Bobby says this a bit more suggestively than he probably should, and Junhoe jerks up, narrowing his eyes at him. “What?”

“Not like that!” Bobby laughs.

Junhoe does not look amused.

They’re off to an excellent start.

Bobby coughs, running a hand through his hair and smiling in what he hopes is a reassuring fashion. “Do you wanna do something? Like, I dunno, go to a movie.”

Junhoe raises an eyebrow. “You want to sit next to me in a dark room in silence for two hours?”

Well, when he puts it that way, of course it sounds terrible. “Wanna, uh, play some video games?”

Junhoe goes back to scrolling on his tablet, but he seems at least slightly inclined to humor Bobby. “What do you have?”

“Well, I have Pokémon Diamond, I can steal Jinhwan-hyung’s Pearl, but I dunno if his team’s any good, or if you want console games I have GTA 4, Call of Duty Black Ops, Mario Party 8, Brawl—are you even listening?”

Bobby stops mid-list, glancing to the side as Junhoe’s in the middle of sticking his earbuds in his ears.

“Hm?” Junhoe looks mildly irritated. “I guess we can play a round of COD.”

“Excellent.”

Bobby boots up the console and inserts the disk, tossing Junhoe a controller.

“I don’t need to teach you how to play, right?”

Junhoe scoffs. “Please.”

And it begins.

Bobby’s initially nervous about how this game would end up, especially given that it’s, well, a shooting game, and Junhoe shooting him in the back is a very real possibility, but the arrangement works out oddly well – Junhoe is madly competitive, and plows through the enemies like a maniac, pairing well with Bobby’s own erratic style. He – dare he say – likes it more than playing with Hanbin, who’s always far too meticulous and gets shot ten seconds in, or Jinhwan, who flinches every time he has to shoot or someone else gets shot.

When the others return home that evening, it’s to a strange sight indeed.

“Get my back, Junhoe!” Bobby yells, leaping off the sofa as he mashes buttons on his controller. Junhoe’s eyebrows furrow with intensity as he stares at the screen, muttering low oaths under his breath as he shoots away. They shoot through enemies, and Bobby thinks they might actually beat this level this time, but—

“Hanbin, look,” Jinhwan says, perhaps a touch too loud, “they’ve bonded.”

Junhoe looks up, noticing the trio standing in the doorway. He drops his controller, looks between himself and Bobby, and immediately runs off to his room, leaving Bobby behind to get shot in the back.

“Jinhwan-hyung!” Bobby moans, as the words GAME OVER flash on the screen, “We were doing so well!”

Jinhwan looks like he’s torn between laughing and crying, and ends up making a weird gasping sound before collapsing to the floor and rolling around.

“He’s lost it,” Hanbin says, but he’s no better, laughter bowing his body down until he’s next to Jinhwan on the floor.

Yunhyeong looks between the two on the floor and at Bobby, completely lost and probably regretting a lot of his life choices.

Bobby contemplates suffocating himself with a pillow.

Junhoe doesn’t talk to Bobby for a full two weeks after that.

4.

When Donghyuk joins later that year, it’s the best thing ever, in Bobby’s opinion – he’s finally got a cute dongsaeng who really, genuinely likes him (Junhoe doesn’t think it’s possible, raising an eyebrow whenever Donghyuk leaves his side to talk to Bobby).

Once again, though, this leaves Bobby and Junhoe alone together quite often. Similarly to Junhoe, and unlike Yunhyeong when he first joined, Donghyuk’s already pretty good at singing and dancing. Since his vocal range is much more similar to Jinhwan’s, though, they tend to have practices together.

While Bobby wouldn’t say Junhoe’d warmed up to him much over the past few months, he can say that they’re at least marginally more comfortable in each other’s presence.

Generally, this means that they can sit on opposite ends of the sofa and not antagonize each other.

But Bobby’s still not satisfied – he really does want to be friends with Junhoe, especially since it seems they’ll be spending a good chunk of the next few years with each other.

He’s lying on the couch, watching television, when he hears the door opening. He looks up to see Junhoe sliding out the door, trying to open it as little as possible and as quietly as he can.

“Hey,” Bobby says, “Junhoe, whatcha doing?”

Junhoe curses. “Going out.”

“What for?”                   

“Shopping.”

“For what?”

Junhoe glares, but Bobby’s used to that by now. “Does it matter?”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I want to come?”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I don’t want you to come?”

Bobby shrugs, and grins. “Not really, hold up.”

Surprisingly, Bobby’s actually wearing clothes, so he can run and grab his wallet off the kitchen counter before Junhoe can slam the door in his face and run away.

Junhoe scowls when Bobby catches up to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, were you really going to leave your hyung like that?”

“Yeah.”

Junhoe turns to stare out the window, eyebrows set resolutely over narrowed eyes.

“So what’re you gonna get?” Bobby asks, attempting to make some kind of casual conversation.

“Does it really matter?” Junhoe sighs.

“Hey, just curious,” Bobby chuckles, elbowing Junhoe in the ribs. Junhoe shoots him a glare and mutters under his breath that “if he really wants to find out, he’ll just have to wait and see.”

Bobby grins madly, following Junhoe as he gets off at the mall and heads towards a department store.

“Is it clothes?” Bobby asks as they near the men’s section.

“You could say that,” Junhoe grumbles, turning a corner into the underwear section.

Bobby’s lips pop open into an O, eyes widening. No wonder Junhoe didn’t want to tell him – but no matter. He’s always found underwear shopping incredibly amusing, and a great way to bond with people.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like Junhoe feels the same way, as he stands in the aisle with a package of black (does the kid wear any other color, actually?) boxer briefs and an increasingly pained look on his face.

“Junhoe, look, these have bacon on them!”

“Oh god, Junhoe, you have to see this, there’s s on these, oh god.”

“Should I buy these for Hanbin? Junhoe—”

Bobby looks up from the pair of bikini-clad women-printed underwear he’s holding, only to see an empty space where Junhoe once stood and a familiar figure sprinting away from him towards the cash registers.

“Yah! Koo Junhoe!”

He finally catches up to Junhoe just as the youngest is about to slip onto a bus, holding the door open with one hand and wheezing while Junhoe shoots him one of the dirtiest looks known to mankind.

“Hey, you almost left hyung behind,” Bobby gasps out as he taps his T-Money card on the reader, “how could you?”

“Just like that,” Junhoe says, lips pressing into a thin line as he reaches up to hold the bar.

The rest of the day is spent in stony silence and many slammed doors from Junhoe.

(“Is he always like this?” Donghyuk whispers across the dinner table once Junhoe’s left, glancing fearfully at his retreating back.

“Nah,” Bobby replies, shoving more chicken into his mouth, “he just likes being a drama queen.”

“Shut up, Kim Jiwon!”

“You’re not my mother! Don’t tell me what to do! And don’t call me that!”

Jinhwan rolls his eyes.)

A week later, Bobby walks into the kitchen wearing just his underwear.

This is normal.

Once Junhoe catches sight of him, he drops his bowl, and points, arm shaking.

This is not.

“YOU. ARE. WEARING. MY. UNDERWEAR.”

Bobby glances down and laughs. “Oh, I was wondering why they felt different. New. Fresh.”

Junhoe looks like he’s going to have a heart attack. For some reason, Bobby sees this as a great time to make an inappropriate remark.

“You know, we indirectly touched !”

Junhoe lets out an unearthly battle cry, lunging towards him, punch missing his face by less than a centimeter. It takes the combined efforts of all the other members to hold him back so he doesn’t rip Bobby’s head off.

This is the first time Bobby has really and truly feared for his life.

5.

Bobby’s exhausted.

They’re all exhausted.

This is the first time Bobby’s been on camera for an extended period of time, the first time his each and every action has been up for public scrutiny, and he can’t say he particularly enjoys it.

But he knows what he signed up for, even if it’s not exactly how he imagined it.

So it triggers no alarm when the six of them pile into a van with cameras in it, driving off to some studio or other where they’re going to try on their outfits for their performance.

(It’s kind of exciting, really, the fact that they might actually debut at the end of this. They’ll finally be able to perform for more people, fans, instead of just sajangnim and other people from the company. Probably a lot less nervewracking, too.)

Bobby glances at Yunhyeong next to him, who’s making some weird pantomime gestures into the camera, but thinks nothing of it.

Until the surrounding area starts looking less like the wardrobe studio and a lot more like…

“Hey, isn’t Yunhyeong’s parents’ place around here?” Jinhwan asks.

Bobby cranes his neck up from his seat in the back, and Hanbin starts laughing.

“There’s a fitting place around here?”

“There is,” Yunhyeong says, but there’s a little too much laughter in his voice to be convincing. “Oh, but there’s my dad over there.”

“What is this!” Bobby yells, but he’s not angry, not by a long shot.

It’s raining as they get out of the van, but everyone’s too excited to care. Hanbin, always quick on the uptake, asks if they’re really doing the wardrobe check at the restaurant. Bobby’s too far back to sock him on the head.

Bobby’s head pangs a little when he sees Yunhyeong embracing his parents – he’s been without his own family for years. But he also thinks distance means little if you never get to see them anyways.

(He’s got his own weird little family now though, right? Jinhwan the mother figure who looks like a child, Hanbin the old man in a teenager’s body, Yunhyeong the pseudo-normal one, Donghyuk the little brother he’d always wanted, and Junhoe…

Well, maybe he’s the pet or something.)

They set off to grilling the meat immediately, and Bobby wonders if Yunhyeong’s parents really took into account how much meat it took to feed six teenage boys as he watches Hanbin and Junhoe eat like the world’s ending.

Just as Bobby decides to ask Junhoe if he thinks the meat will vanish if he stops eating, Junhoe exchanges a glance with Yunhyeong and pushes himself back from the table.

“Where’s he going?” Hanbin asks. Yunhyeong shrugs.

Junhoe emerges a few minutes later with a cake in his hands and the most awkward smile known to man on his face. He sets it down in the middle of the table, and Bobby, Jinhwan, and Hanbin spend so long gawking at it that candle wax starts running down the cake.

“Blow out the candles,” Yunhyeong says, as Donghyuk counts to three. They do, but Bobby can tell that Jinhwan and Hanbin are still just as confused as he is as to why this whole… thing’s been arranged.

“Is it some kind of special day?” he asks.

Yunhyeong clears his throat. “The three of us… we would never have made it without the three of you.”

“Why are you being like this,” Jinhwan says, and Bobby and Hanbin follow, trying to play it off.

“Even though it’s not much, we wrote letters for you guys.”

It’s so ing cheesy¸ but there go the waterworks, as Yunhyeong opens with his letter to Jinhwan. He gets choked up near the end, which sets Jinhwan off, which sets all of them off (although some are better at hiding it than others), and Donghyuk’s only barely able to eke out his letter for Hanbin.

It’s the most touching thing anyone’s done for them, Bobby thinks, but somehow, his attention is drawn to Junhoe sitting across from him – the youngest is barely misty-eyed, and although he has something folded in his hand, he makes no effort to do anything with it after Donghyuk’s finished.

Jinhwan and Hanbin thank Yunhyeong and Donghyuk, and they eat the cake, but it’s still bothering Bobby. Sure, he and Junhoe aren’t the best of friends, but… surely he’s got something to say, right?

“Hey,” he says, nudging Junhoe as they leave the restaurant, “where’s my letter?”

“Hm?” Junhoe looks at him, eyebrow raised. “What letter?”

“Yunhyeong and Donghyukkie wrote them for Jinhwan-hyung and Hanbin, don’t I get anything?”

Junhoe scoffs. “Oh, that. No.”

“Why not? Aren’t you grateful to hyung?” Bobby whines, shaking his body. Junhoe grimaces as he gets inside the car.

“You can’t sing and you can’t dance, what could you have taught me?”

Junhoe has a point.

(Junhoe always has a point, goddammit.)

(A week later, as he’s emptying the trash, he finds a folded piece of paper. Looking around, he opens it, and it’s covered in scratch-outs and Junhoe’s messy handwriting.

Bobby-hyung

What am I even supposed to say to you I’m going to kill Yunhyeong later

I hate you why did you steal my Michael Jackson CDs I know it was you

Did you eat all my chips again

I still have that bruise when you whacked me during practice three days ago

You’re a ing maniac

You’re alright I guess. Thanks for being someone I can laugh at.

-Junhoe)

6.

None of them take the WIN loss well.

Hanbin’s shut himself off again, Yunhyeong and Donghyuk are alternately morose and self-blaming, Jinhwan’s playing awkward mediator, and Bobby just feels empty.

Junhoe, though, is the most affected of them all.

Outwardly, he projects the same facade as he usually does, albeit a bit weaker – he still laughs obnoxiously whenever someone screws up in practice, defends his spot on the couch with a fiery passion, and makes of a point of stealing most of Bobby’s snacks.

One night, though, Bobby wakes up to use the bathroom, only to hear someone crying inside.

This in itself is not unusual. They all need breaks sometimes, especially now. But Bobby’s pretty certain he knows what all the members’ crying sounds like, and he hasn’t heard this one before.

He knocks on the door – it’s locked.

“Hey, uh,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, “I kinda need to pee, so.”

The crying stops, and there’s a shuffling sound before the doorknob clicks and the door swings open, revealing a splotchy-faced Junhoe. He tries to push past Bobby, but the rapper holds out an arm across the doorway.

“Hey—June—what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says, voice thick. “I’m fine. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“This doesn’t look fine to me,” Bobby’s hyung instincts kick in, and he pushes Junhoe inside, closing the toilet lid and sitting down, motioning for Junhoe to sit on the edge of the tub.

“Talk to me,” Bobby says. “I’m no Jinhwan, but I can listen just fine.”

Junhoe buries his face into his hoodie, and Bobby wonders if he’s actually going to say anything.

“There isn’t much to talk about.” Junhoe’s voice is muffled by the fabric. “I’m mad. I’m disappointed. I’m everything but happy, and it’s not supposed to be this way. I know I’m good at what I do. And yeah, I’m not the best, but I’m good. But no one else seems to sees it.”

Not for the first time, Bobby is forced to remember that Donghyuk is not actually their maknae, no matter how much he might act it and how much Junhoe doesn’t. As much as Junhoe acts invincible, he’s not. And Bobby’s sure he’s not the only one that’s noticed that Junhoe tends to get a lot less praise than the rest of them.

A big part of it, he figures, is that Junhoe projects enough self-confidence and assurance that he doesn’t seem in need of any praise – not like Yunhyeong, who needs constant reminders that he’s improving, and Donghyuk, while in the process of developing his own sense of self, is nowhere near the level Junhoe is.

The rest of it, though, Bobby’s not sure why. If he’s going to be completely honest with himself, he doesn’t give a whole lot of praise directly to Junhoe either, and neither does Hanbin (that honor goes to Jinhwan, who dishes out compliments like the rich houses giving candy on Halloween.)

“Hey, look,” Bobby says, crossing his legs.

Junhoe stares at the floor.

“Alright, don’t look, I know you don’t like my face,” Bobby laughs, “but you’re great, ‘kay? And even though I don’t say it a lot, I love you.”

Junhoe stands up and glares, giving Bobby an extremely firm palm to the shoulder that will probably result in a bruise.

“I,” Junhoe says, “have no need for your love.”

He shuffles away. Bobby makes no move to stop him, smiling fondly after him before remembering that he actually did come in here to take a piss.

The next day at practice, Junhoe refuses to look Bobby directly in the eyes, but afterwards, he slides in next to Donghyuk in the van, leaving his usual position next to Jinhwan vacant. Bobby quirks an eyebrow, and Junhoe gestures with his head towards the seat almost imperceptibly.

Bobby’s not stupid enough to overlook the one bit of mercy Junhoe’s giving him, so he flashes one of his trademark grins and slings an arm around Jinhwan’s neck, scooting in just a little too close for comfort. Junhoe’s face immediately morphs into a murderous expression and he whips around to face the front, sitting stiffly as Donghyuk chatters along next to him.

“What did you do?” Jinhwan whispers playfully, “I thought he was never going to let me go.”

“Magic.” Bobby wiggles his fingers, and Jinhwan rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, right.”

“You’re a wizard, Bobby,” Donghyuk says in a poor impersonation of Hagrid’s voice.

“If anything, he’s a Squib,” Junhoe grumbles.

Bobby just laughs. It’s a good day.