"I never thought we'd be celebrating your first drink like this," Ha-Neul remarked to Wuhao, swirling a delicate glass of red wine between his fingers, the rich liquid catching the warm, ambient glow of the bougie bar's lighting. He leaned back against the plush seat, a hint of disappointment in his demeanor. "I pictured something different, at least a few pounds of meat," he sighed, setting down the glass with a soft clink and throwing up his hands in a gesture of exasperation. The ring adorning his finger glimmered under the lights, a detail Wuhao found himself drawn to, glancing at it repeatedly.
"And bare ring fingers too," Wuhao quipped back, a wry smile forming as his gaze drifted to his own engagement ring, an antique 'heirloom' that seemed to tell its own story. But in reality, it was another proof that no one was serious about this engagement. After a moment's hesitation, he finally picked up the glass, contemplating its contents. He took a tentative sip, only to chug the remaining wine the very next moment—an act that hardly surprised anyone around them, a signal of his apparent inexperience. "How do people even enjoy this stuff?" Wuhao grimaced, his brows knotting in confusion as he refilled his glass and downed its contents again, as if it were merely water. It took until his third refill for Ha-Neul to intervene.
"You're not even drinking anything that strong," Ha-Neul chuckled lightly, snatching the glass from Wuhao's hand with a teasing grin. "Sure, it stings a little, but ignorance truly is bliss," he winked, signaling to the bartender for yet another round. "Drinking can be challenging, but it's the aftermath that really makes it worthwhile," Ha-Neul's expression turned contemplative, a smirk lingering at the corners of his lips, as if lost in a private reverie.
"You're starting to scare me," Wuhao replied, pulling his stool back as the bartender approached with an array of colorful drinks, each more intimidating than the last. "I don't think it's okay to drink so much on my first time..." He voiced his concerns, his hands quivering slightly as more and more drinks appeared before him, their vibrant hues intensifying his unease.
"Just once, Wuhao," Ha-Neul insisted, grasping Wuhao's hands with an earnest plea. "I haven't done this with anyone in ages; I'm desperate. Uncle Jin would never let me out like this—just one time, I beg you," his eyes bore into Wuhao's, full of pleading anticipation.
"I—I— I read somewhere that you shouldn't drink after, you know, after something... like getting sick..." Wuhao stammered, desperately trying to resist but feeling the weight of Ha-Neul's determination pulling him closer to yielding. "You know what? Fuck it! That's right. I'm an adult. I can make stupid decisions. I should enjoy myself when I can."
"That's the spirit!" Ha-Neul's face brightened, handing two glasses over to Wuhao while he kept two for himself. "On the count of three... 3, 2, 1… Go!!!"
"You think we should have gone with them?" Haruto asked, dicing vegetables with precision on the kitchen island, the rhythmic sound of the knife punctuating the air. "I'm genuinely worried for Wuhao. Ha-Neul hyung can be a bit reckless with his drinking, and Wuhao just got out of the hospital," he shared his anxieties, tossing the freshly chopped vegetables into a simmering pan, the aroma of garlic and spices beginning to waft through the air.
"It's probably for the best that we didn't," Woo-Bin responded, retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge, his brow furrowed in thought. "You don't drink and I can't handle my liquor at all; we would've just become a burden for you. You can take care of them when they come back, though. But anything that happens out there is the responsibility of their manager and security, not ours." His approach though starkly realistic, certainly had its merits.
"Then you should have at least gone," Haruto suggested, glancing at Woo-Bin, who stood perplexed by the statement while turning on the coffee machine. "I mean, it's been forever since you've gone out with anyone, even though it used to be something you enjoyed."
"Why would I go if you weren't going?" Woo-Bin shrugged, bewildered by Haruto's logic, igniting a flicker of disbelief in Haruto.
"Well, we're all friends, for starters. Friends are meant to hang out, right?" Haruto's voice softened, memories flooding back of their first meeting, and it seemed that Woo-Bin recalled the same moment. "Oh, I remember. To you, they're just 'colleagues'; I had forgotten that. Sorry." Haruto's tone dipped low, and Woo-Bin caught the nuance but remained silent.
"If you let your guard down and get too attached, you'll find yourself beaten down by others, shoved aside, and labeled a disappointment even when you give it your all," Woo-Bin stated bluntly, his voice carrying a chill. "There's nothing wrong with being realistic; it's a choice I made to shield myself, and you should consider it too. But with you, I guess it's too late." Haruto's gaze averted, the sting of denial evident in his posture. "How long do you plan to keep this up?" Woo-Bin pressed, stepping closer to him. "How much is too much? Will you ever have any self-respect?"
"You're being way too harsh," Haruto retorted, turning back to face him, his defiance evident as he crossed his arms firmly. "And since when did you start caring about a colleague?"
"Since my career began to rely on it," Woo-Bin replied sharply, just as the coffee machine emitted a beeping sound, signaling it was ready. He turned his back to Haruto briefly to check the coffee, needing a moment to recalibrate. "Which reminds me, did you manage to record anything today?" He picked up his cup, going around the island to sit on the barstool, changing the topic.
Haruto picked up on it and changed the topic too. "I managed to record some parts of the bridge," Haruto stated, lifting the pan off the stove. "But I've got to ask—aren't the lyrics a bit too mature? It feels like a significant change from our usual style."
"Concept shift," Woo-Bin explained. "We strike hard where they least expect it. We've always had to rein in our concept because of Wuhao, but we don't have to do that anymore. It's what will get people talking. And you should get used to it," he asserted, his voice firm and resolute. "This isn't just a one-time PR stunt; we'll be at this for some time now. Let's make sure nobody gets the wrong idea that we're merely playing damage control. This debut isn't just a performance; it's a pivotal moment that will determine whether we can redirect our careers back onto a successful path. At the end of the day, they're just lyrics, after all. It's not like we're singing them to each other." With that, he finished his coffee, rinsed it under the faucet, and set it down in the sink with a loud clank before striding out of the room.
"He's right," Haruto murmured to himself, his gaze locked onto the empty cup. "Our career is what matters most right now. You've fought hard to arrive at this point, Haruto. Let's not throw away your hard work." Haruto stood in silence, taking off his apron. "That son of a... He didn't have to be so harsh. That piece of... Let it go, Haruto."
"Aren't you coming!?" Woo-Bin shouted from the adjacent room, his voice slicing through Haruto's reverie like a knife. The urgency in Woo-Bin's tone snapped Haruto back to reality, a reminder of the looming deadline. "We still need to finalize the B-side today, and we have 25 songs left to sift through!" His irritation was palpable, and it ignited a simmering frustration within Haruto, who felt as though he was bearing the entire burden alone.
Haruto rolled his eyes, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "What's the point of slogging through so many songs if you're just going to pick one that's all about filling people with cream?" The very notion sent a shiver down his spine, and he grimaced at the thought of belting out something so absurd. "How did we end up trading heartfelt ballads for ridiculous lyrics about red tights?"
"You coming or not!" He shouted again which finally made Haruto lose it. "Stop shouting, you a*****e!"