kunten / 3.3k words / explicit
except i never got to the kunten part before abandoning it my bad. not edited at all
“Where’s the desert?” Is the first thing Guanheng asks when they land, which probably doesn’t bode well for how well their brains are functioning after a fifteen hour flight.
“Probably outside the airport,” Yangyang’s tone doesn’t make him sound helpful, and Kun isn’t awake enough to figure out whether he’s trying to be a smart ass or not. Yangyang’s always grumpy when he has jet lag. Like Ten. Whereas the rest of them will jump right into doing something to stave off the exhaustion.
Before Dejun can open his mouth, Kun nudges him in the side. And in a voice that is not nearly as stern as he’d like it to be: “we just landed.”
It’s not even that his members are the grumbly type, per say, it’s just that things have been… busy. They’re in practice for sets between festival after festival, trying to fill the space that Ten leaves behind when he’s off doing his own thing. It’s not an impossible task, but it’s an unsavory one. Even knowing that he’ll be here with them this weekend is only so helpful when they’ve been spending time in the practice room dancing around a body that’s in Bangkok. Every absence feels like a weight - it’s already hard enough having five instead of six - but he always feels Ten’s missing presence a little heavier. Especially when they’re in the same city but their schedules refuse to align. Almost like having a missing limb, phantom pain for an absence he’s supposed to be used to except he’s not.
Or, at least, that’s the way Kun looks at it. Maybe it comes with age. The complicated notion of it all, his feelings and Ten’s and the group’s and everything else. Tender and sore.
But anyway. Mexico.
There’s a lot more fans waiting for them than he expected. More than the company prepped them for - Wayv, they’ve been told, is not well known internationally. Especially when compared to the other NCT units. Kun has long accepted this. But there’s a crowd at the airport holding up banners with their faces on them and he can see Guanheng’s curious expression in his peripheral. The fans are not here for 127, or Dream, or any other SM group for that matter. They’re here for them.
“Maybe I’m hallucinating,” Dejun mutters after they get through customs, into the van that’s taking them to the hotel. He’s already burying his nose on SNS. Dejun calls it research - the whole TikTok thing - and sometimes he’ll even call it marketing. If SM won’t do it, someone has to. Kun is just grateful that one of them, at least, is in the know.
“Maybe they thought Ten hyung was with us?” Guanheng offers, but he, too, is on his phone. Scouring Twitter, specifically.
Yangyang huddles into the seat next to Kun and passes out on his shoulder. Unlike the rest of them, he doesn’t try to reason.
That’s probably a good thing.
Their hotel setup is the same as it always is, really. They get their own rooms. SM has already taken over the entire damn building, hallways and the lobby crawling with both staff and idols. In the elevator they run into some of the male SM Trainees - they’re not SM Rookies, no, it’s different this time - who all bow so low their noses damn well touch their knees. Kun nods at them and tries for a reassuring smile. The stage they’re performing on tomorrow is inconceivable for someone in their position (all with the chance they may not even debut at the end of it all, in SM or otherwise), and he knows that from experience. His members bow their heads along with him until they get to their floor. There’s someone from the company barking orders around at every turn, and it’s enough to make their heads spin.
Yangyang, predictably, is off to sleep the jet lag away. He mumbles little more than a farewell before he holes himself up in his room for the foreseeable future. Dejun and Guanheng are already on Naver, researching places for them to check out (even though Kun, admittedly, already has an itinerary in mind for a YouTube video) and after all of their stuff’s been put away, they gather in Kun’s room to make a Plan. They have an entire day to themselves. Ten isn’t flying until tomorrow morning and there’s nothing the four of them can do to prepare for the stage until he has joined them and the gap they’re only barely used to is filled again. Completion; for now.
Kun tries to not think about Ten. Can’t really afford to. Not right now.
“I was looking at Teotihuacan,” he tells the two of them, shifting his focus into the present - into Content Mode - and showing Dejun and Guanheng the pictures of ancient ruins he found online. He’s taken by the pyramids in particular. It’d make for interesting footage. He talked to some friends who have traveled to Mexico, scoured forums, read over the historical background on Wikipedia - it’d be a good fit for Kun’s Cloud. And would probably satiate the hunger his didis have for interesting photos for their socials.
Case in point:
“We need to eat good food,” Guanheng says sagely. “And get good pictures.” For someone who acts so aloof about the whole idol thing, at times (what celebrity cares so little about fashion, after all?), he can be awfully focused on the usual goal of collecting boyfriend pictures of himself. Well, they all do, but Guanheng is the most relentless about it. Especially when they go abroad.
Dejun nods along, resolute. “I need something for Instagram. Something from your fancy camera.”
Kun frowns, digging his toes into Guanheng’s calf, hard enough to pinch. “Since when didn’t I treat you to good food or pictures?” The answer to that is never. Kun never leads them astray, not if he can help it. Especially when it comes to eating and photography. There’s no one more qualified than him to point them in the right direction, actually, as he’s the only one in the group who combs over Yelp review after Yelp review, finding only the best of the best. Meanwhile the rest of them just eat whatever they think looks good in the posts they find on Instagram. Especially Ten and Yangyang, those trendy bastards.
“Kun ge always treats me,” Dejun says, acting coy. Guanheng shoves him in the side. Grumbles something about being an ass kisser as if he isn’t equally guilty of doing the same, most days. Especially when it comes to Kun.
“Let’s wash up and head out,” Kun tells them before any more squabbling breaks out. If you get those two riled up, there’s little that can stop them. “If we sleep now, we’ll be miserable tomorrow. Like Yangyang. We should get moving.”
Guanheng stretches. “‘Kay.”
There’s a suspicious twinkle in Dejun’s eyes. “I’ll be quick.”
Luckily for Kun, Guanheng and Dejun tend to be pretty agreeable. They’re flexible and willing to fly by the seat of their pants and there’s little complaining on their part, not unless Ten goads them into helping him gang up on their poor, helpless Kun gege. Though he doesn’t do it as much these days, and Kun can’t quite tell whether he’s pleased by the grace or scared by it. His feelings on the matter flip flop erratically by the day. Depending mostly on his mood, or Ten’s. Though that is another train of thought he tries not to indulge in if he can help it. Kind of makes his stomach hurt.
Kun unpacks his suitcase and his camera bag, at least grateful that his days of having to pack for the other members is behind him. He pulls out some clean clothes and a few skincare products he’s in dire need of after a flight as long as that one was. He steps into the bathroom and slips into the scalding hot water of the shower. It’s like instant relief after so long on that goddamn plane. How long has it been since he’s had to travel this far? Not since London, right? Or was it KCon last?
He scrubs shampoo into his hair. Well practiced. He never takes long in the shower unless he’s really feeling like shit, or so exhausted that he can’t keep his eyes open. The rest of his members always take their sweet damn time when washing up. Especially Ten.
It’s only natural that his mind drifts to Ten. It always does.
It’s been weeks since they last saw each other. Not since a brief practice. He’s been in and out of the country and the last time they’ve really even had proper time together was on that flight back to Seoul after Yokohama, and even then, all the didis were hovering around. Ten’s solo comebacks are too important to sneak a night into his apartment, not unless Kun’s just there to play with the cats and keep them company while Ten’s off at recording a variety show or on another flight out of the country. It’s silly. Kun has taken to spraying his cologne on his pillowcase and nosing into it like a love sick teen. He can hear it in Ten’s voice: it’s only three weeks, Kun.
It’s not a lot of time in the grand scheme of things. But even still.
They haven’t been apart in a long time. For most of last year, the five of them were all glued together at the hip, always within orbit. Within reach. It’s not like Kun is insecure, of all things, when it comes to Ten. Because he isn’t, really. It’d be hard to nowadays, when Ten is always hovering around, reaching out a tentative hand for reassurance. They didn’t used to be like that. Ten did not used to reach out. But now he does and Kun does not let himself stand around and try to figure out why. They just like each other. Or whatever it is. Ten kissed him goodbye the last time they saw each other. Kissed him in front of the rest of the group and all the managers, and if that isn’t enough of an answer… especially when coming from Ten Lee…
Things have always been complicated between them. Such a long history. Ten years now. Through training and SM Rookies and Kun coming back from China after he got his bachelor’s. Debut. Ten in music videos, Kun in the background. The only adults in the Dreamies dorm. Wrestling kids around, buttoning up their uniforms in the morning, sharing the van on the way to practice with just the two of them. Practicing for what? They aren’t sure, but then they are put in WayV, and then there are more kids. And then the kids grow up. And now Kun feels needy, sometimes, stressed about not being needed or graying too fast and he’d never tell anyone, except Ten always has him figured out, and if that isn’t terrifying-
He washes the shampoo out of his hair. Runs his soapy hands down his neck. Things have been different in the past year or so. Softer. Ten seeks him out. Ten holds his hand. His bicep. His waist. Is reciprocative to touch when the cameras are on, leans onto his shoulder. Kun never let himself hope for this kind of thing. Not even once. He always figured that he would just take what he could get, but now Ten lets him take so much.
Most people would probably want a proper answer, he reckons. A proper label. But Kun sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to take the plunge and ask. Not now, at least. Not while things are good and so busy all at once, and it’ll never be anything but busy, and that’s okay. Ten knows he has his cologne. Ten gave him his door code so he could play with the cats. Ten saw that he was the first one to wish him congratulations on Stunner’s first win. Ten sent him a bare faced selfie with a kissy emoji and told him not to go to bed too late, baby, or else you’ll be grumpy lolol. Ten already knew he was up late in the studio, tearing his hair out over a track. Ten got his first win and he answered Kun first and that is… that is good enough.
Really. It is.
He stands under the water. Lets the conditioner sit in his hair as his eyes follow the grout lines of the shower wall. Washes it out after he’s lost track of the trail of penny tile. It’s blue. Untypical for a hotel.
He finishes up in the shower. Kun is meticulous, even about this, but still quick. Like he’s always racing towards a finish line that isn’t even there, as his Korean instructor once said. That was back in 2016, when he still needed one. He likes to think that he’s slowed down these days. But then he thinks about his camera bag sitting on his hotel room bed and the itinerary on his phone and it doesn’t feel like he knows how to rest after all.
Ten chides him for it as if he’s not guilty of the same thing. Stubborn, stubborn man.
Kun steps out of the shower, towels off his hair. He’s rough with it, vigorous. He always thinks about Ten even when he doesn’t mean to. Even when he shouldn’t. He tries to do the mental math to figure out what the time it would be back in Bangkok (he has to Google it) and tries to wrestle the pros and cons of texting Ten a gentle message to have a safe flight. He took off a few hours ago, will not land until the early morning. It’s a shame. Kun wanted to go sightseeing with him. Though he’d never say that, god forbid, and Ten would never go with him unless it was for content. He likes doing his own thing when they go abroad, despite all the times he says he’d like to go on a trip with Kun; a trip that Kun plans out, guides him on. And Kun tries not to be bitter about it.
His phone sits heavy in his palm while he plugs in the hairdryer. He sets it down when he combs through his hair. Kun is not insecure about Ten. Not like he used to be. But there is still an uncertainty that goes down to his bones whenever they are not face-to-face. He can never read him otherwise. But after drying his bangs, he can’t help but sigh and pick his phone back up.
Fuck it. He’s allowed this, isn’t he?
Kun: have a safe flight, tennie
Kun: want me to get you a souvenir?
It’s safe. It is idle, it is not too affectionate. They have not talked in a few days, and Kun would not know his whereabouts if it weren’t for him being the leader, given everyone’s schedules just in case. It used to feel like a violation. I always know where you are. But Ten had told him, once, on his last birthday. This year, New Year’s. They were tipsy. I like that you can always find me. You’d never let me run away, would you, Kun Kun?
Kun turns his phone face down. Tries to not think about Ten’s lips forming around the sound of his name like it’s his favorite thing to say. The response does not come quickly - it never does - but halfway through Kun applying his moisturizer, he gets a reply on KakaoTalk.
Ten: get something pretty and you can wear it for me <3 so i can take it off of you <3
Kun clicks his tongue. Thumbs down the message. But then Ten sends a proper heart and that, admittedly, gets a smile out of him.
Fucking hell. What does Yangyang call it? Being down bad? It’s something like that. All it takes is a stupid heart emoji and his pulse is rising.
He’s too old to be blushing like this. God.
It doesn’t take too long for all three of them to get ready and meet up, back at Kun’s room. The managers play rock paper scissors to decide who has to tag along, along with a Spanish interpreter SM sent every group. It’s a shame Yangyang doesn’t want to come, but Kun knocks lightly on his door and can hear him snoring from inside. He always sleeps like a baby after long flights. In the van, their driver recommends a market for them to eat at and Guanheng and Dejun send the manager puppy eyes until he caves.
“We need to eat real tacos, ge, humans are beings of culture,” Dejun insists.
“And tequila!” Guanheng attempts, even though he very famously can’t even hold two sojus. Kun swats him on the back of the head for that one.
“It’s noon,” their manager sighs. But he acquesters, and off to the market they go.
When the van stops at the market near Teotihuacan, their entourage gets out, earning them a couple stares from the locals. They aren’t exactly subtle. One of their staff is already shooting b-roll and Kun shoulders his camera bag, adjusting his hat low over his eyes. The other two, predictably, are a lot less concerned about stares. Guanheng is immediately locking onto a stand selling tacos. They ate breakfast on the plane not that long ago, but it’s hard to pass up an opportunity to eat food like this.
Truth be told, they’re all still staving off exhaustion from the flight. It was a long one, not to mention the way they’ve been working nonstop even in Ten’s absence. The change of scenery certainly helps the jet lag. Kun’s never really been given the opportunity to experience dry heat before, and he almost prefers it over the rancid humidity of Korea and China that makes your clothes stick to you like a second skin. The locals are kind. They eat well. He takes photos dutifully, as any good ge should, gets footage of the market and its inhabitants. No one gets any tequila. But their manager promises after the concert, maybe, if you guys behave.
They will behave. If there’s anything WayV is, it’s well behaved when the promise of alcohol is on the line. Dejun and Kun share a resolute nod. They’re going to get that damn tequila.
After lunch, they finally get to the Teotihuacan. Sometime between the market and the pyramids, the didis acquired hats. Dejun even got his paws on a serape. Kun, as always, takes a million pictures of them in any way they so please. Dejun is all too satisfied with himself once the camera’s pointed at him, posing with his arms spread wide open and the biggest, smuggest grin on his face. Guanheng gets his turn. He’s a little more model-esque about it. But Kun gets enough for both of their social media accounts.
“Happy?” He asks, scrolling through his camera’s gallery for them to see. The two are all too pleased with his shots, especially the ones where the pyramid is clear in the background. Perfect for Instagram, Dejun says.
“I can always count on you, ge,” Guanheng wipes a fake tear from his eyes. Kun clasps him on the back. Heavy, hard enough to make him hiss.
“My turn,” Kun says. And so the didis oblige.
He doesn’t always focus much on getting pictures of himself, and he probably wouldn’t make a point to do so at all if it weren’t for the whole kpop idol thing. He’s usually focused on landscape pictures anyway. But it was Ten who pointed out to him, a few years back, that most people followed his Bubble so they could see him and not just pictures of trees and buildings. So he compromises.