* & TACK13

He only says it to get a reaction. He always knows there will be a reaction.

Roan’s heavy hands shove into Ezra’s chest again, this time sending him stumbling a couple of steps back before he hits the ground. The pain is sharp and shoots up through his tailbone, causing him to hiss. His wrists take most of the impact, making them ache instantly. Ezra is always aching, but this ache makes his brain tingle. Something small and sensitive, but it was there. It felt like it lit something in him, made his heart pound harder against his ribs. He can’t get enough of it.

He thinks of his mother again. He hasn’t seen her in so long. He wonders what color her hair is now, if she still smiles the same, if she smiles at all.

Ezra is in wrist braces for the next practice. Roan isn’t in the room this time, it’s just the guys, but he still feels like it’s only him in the room, besides when he’s looking in the mirror. He doesn’t look at himself even when he’s dancing; he’s watching the other boys. His eyes mainly lock on Hyun, watching how effortlessly he moves, how strong his arms look when they go up, how his brown hair sticks to his forehead. He’s the perfect idol, with such a pretty face and a strong body. Ezra feels hungry when he looks at Hyun, but he doesn’t know what. He wants to consume him, to be him, to taste him; he wants every inch of him, but he can’t grasp how or why.

“Hey,” Hyun shouts, dragging Ezra back into the reality he has found himself caged in. The leader raises his dark brows at the other, making Ezra look off to the side, crossing his arms over his chest. “Focus. You missed your mark, Hyunbin.”

Ezra hates his Korean name. It reminds him of his uncle. He nods, though, taking his sharp words and letting them burrow into the wrinkles of his brain. He can feel the other boys staring at him, but he doesn’t look at them; he doesn’t even look up from the ground. They’re all staring at him, some coldly and some with empathy. It’s usual soft eyes from TingTing and Grayson, and the usual daggers from Jacob and Hajin. There’s a gentle tap on his bicep. The feeling of longer nails gives it away that it’s TingTing. He lifts his head, having to tilt it up slightly to make eye contact with the older.

For someone so dainty, TingTing was tall as fuck.

“You look more brooding than usual,” TingTing teases which gets a smile out of Ezra, his eyes looking off to the side, feeling a knot form in his gut from the limited eye contact already. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Tee.” It’s a scripted response, one that Ezra has been reciting since he was a little boy. He adds a small smile that doesn’t fool TingTing by the sad smile he gives Ezra. He rubs his bicep, making the other look back at him with a look that says, ‘Don’t do this to me.’ But in all fairness, Ezra usually has that pathetic look on his face.

“Listen, we’re going out after practice–”

“You don’t have to invite me.”

“I want to!” TingTing argues with a shrill to his voice, “We haven’t been out together in forever!”

“Because I threw up at the pregame, Ting.” Ezra whines, cheeks already burning at the memory. He didn’t even get to the club before throwing up whatever soju abomination Grayson made him in the dorm. Ezra would learn they would go on to have a great night, while Ezra would be stuck at the dorm, curled up in his bed, playing League of Legends until dawn.

Utterly humiliating. He didn’t talk to the guys for three days.

TingTing’s lips curl in to not giggle at the memory. He shrugs like it was nothing.

“Okay? So! That’s the past, and I want you to come out tonight. I’m going, Gray is going, Hyun is going–”

“Hyun is going?” Ezra asks in shock, thick brows shooting up. TingTing nods with an excited hum.

“I know, right? He never goes out, and that’s why you need to! This will never happen again!” He’s so dramatic, Ezra thinks with an amused smile as he stares at TingTing’s face, who is consumed with an excited smile. His large hands pressed together in a prayer, and Ezra can finally see that they’re painted a pretty blue and silver, each nail having a different design or pattern. He wonders if he did them himself. TingTing is creative like that.

“And some of the tacky girls are coming! A lot of us will be there. Come onnn, Ezra! I even think Sena will be there!”

“Sena is always out on the weekends,” Ezra scoffs with an eyeroll at her name. TingTing sucks air between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, causing a clicking noise as he gives Ezra a playful shove.

“Just agree to go out already. You look miserable and need some fun. I’m helping you here.” His hands are on his shoulders now, leaning down slightly with a smirk on his lips because he can see that Ezra has no resolve left and a small smile is growing even as he shakes his head. Ezra throws his hands up like he lost a match, but the smile on his face looks victorious.

“Fine! Sure! What the hell! Just don’t let Grayson make the drinks, and I’m in.” TingTing squeals and claps his hands together, giving a cute bounce on his toes before turning towards the direction Grayson was in.

“Did you hear that, Gray? I got Ezra to leave the house!”

Ezra hangs his head, slapping a hand over his eyes with a low groan.

—

Ezra is stone cold sober.

They’re in a club in Gangnam, a city he’s only been to get his nose done when he was about to debut, and the music is loud. It’s so loud that if he didn’t pop a Tylenol before leaving the house, he would be sure it would give him a migraine.

Everyone is having fun at least, he thinks as he looks around. It’s not well lit by any means, but it’s not as dark as the other clubs they had been to. He can actually make out facial details as he watches Hyun talk to Geni, a warm smile on his sharp features, Ezra swears he’s never seen the man wear before. Geni is smiling up at Hyun like he’s telling her he’s giving her a billion dollars.

Geni is a beautiful girl, he thinks as his eyes rake over her figure. She’s wearing a simple black crop top and jeans that are too big for her. They hang on her hips like it's nothing, the bands of her black underwear hugging her hips tightly, purposefully put on display. It makes Ezra feel like his outfit could’ve been cooler. He just put on a band t-shirt and jeans that kinda looked similar to the ones Geni was wearing, dark acid-washed and baggy, but his jeans actually fit him, and his underwear wasn’t showing. Should it be? That thought alone tells him that he’s overthinking, but what else is there for him to do?

He takes a sip of his Diet Coke, looking away from the couple to maybe spot another one of his friends as he leans on the table in front of him. He catches TingTing dancing with Jisung, which causes Ezra to blink twice to make sure he is seeing the man right. It was, in fact, Jisung from DeepDive. Damn, he thinks, watching as the elder holds onto TingTing’s hips, guiding them to the beat while his chin rests on the boy’s shoulder. TingTing looks so happy, obviously tipsy, never missing a beat while his hand rests atop Jisung’s.

Ezra sighs through his nose, looking around again to see if he sees anyone else he knows. He catches Grayson talking to a man who’s shorter than him, beaming and laughing before taking a sip of his electric blue drink. It’s an AMF. Grayson loves AMFs. He looks comfortable and like he’s having fun, so Ezra looks away, scanning through the sea of people once again.

“Is that diet?” He hears a female’s voice shout over the music. Ezra jumps, snapping his head to the side to see who snuck up on him. It’s Yoomi. He can tell instantly by how round her eyes are and the light shade of brown hair. Her usually big eyes looked glazed over, eyelids heavy; it was clear she was drunk. He wonders how long she’s been here. The girls were already in the club by the time they got there at midnight.

“Yeah. It’s Coke,” Ezra answers, leaning down so she can hear him. She’s looking up at him expectantly, but he doesn’t catch it at first, so he just blinks down at her. Yoomi sighs, aggressively nodding towards his drink.

“Can I have a sip?” She seems annoyed by him, but she moves closer to him. Ezra looks at his silver Diet Coke can, then up at Yoomi. The thought of sharing a can kind of makes him nauseous, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just holds the can out for her to take, accepting that it’s Yoomi’s Diet Coke now, and he should get a water from somewhere. The thought of going to the GS25 pops in his head, and he accepts it; of course, he does; he doesn’t want to be in the club past two in the morning, and it’s already nearing that time.

“You can keep it. I’m gonna head out.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling Yoomi this instead of his friends, but he figures she’ll relay the message. Instead, she grabs his arm before he can take a step, looking up at him curiously.

“Where are you going? I want to come.” Now Ezra is the one confused, knitting his brows and looking around to try and see if anyone was listening to them just so he can have witnesses to a girl as pretty as Yoomi wanting to leave the club with him.

“I’m-Uh-I’m going to the GS.”

“Let’s go,” She grabs his wrist, beginning to pull him towards the exit with no question. It jars Ezra, who looks around the club, hoping to make eye contact with his friends or hers, but they’re all too lost in their own worlds.

“Shouldn’t we tell Geni where you’re–”

“She’s too busy swapping spit with your boyfriend. I’ll text her.” Yoomi sounds mad when Geni is mentioned, so he decides to shut up, but he has to ponder what she meant by calling Hyun his boyfriend.

On their walk to the GS, it’s clear Yoomi is drunk. So drunk that he knows if she were asked to walk in a straight line, she’d fall right on her ass. He has an arm around her waist to keep her up and walking in the right direction, but he can’t help but love the warmth her skin radiates in such cold weather.

“Did you bring a jacket?” He asks, leading her towards one of the chairs outside the GS, sitting her down as carefully as he can, despite her going limp and wanting to flop down in the chair. She would’ve sent it toppling over if Ezra didn’t brace her. Yoomi shakes her head, grabbing onto his shirt when he tries to move away from her.

“I don’t want you to go.” Her words are so slurred he barely catches what she’s saying, making his brows knit and lean in to hear her better. Yoomi leans in with puckered lips, causing Ezra to snap back, dodging her by a second, eyes wide in shock, before he shakes his head.

“I’m not leaving. Just–” He gives a hard tug away to pull away just enough to tug his jacket off, slinging it over her shoulders. “You’re cold, Yoomi. Do you want something warm to drink? I can get you, like, a coffee or something?” The dress she’s wearing is green and strapless. She’s wearing tights, but the length of the dress leaves little to the imagination. Ezra thinks she looks good; she’s a stunning girl. Still, watching her struggle to sit up properly leaves a rock in his throat. He feels like he shouldn’t be seeing this. He almost feels like a creep just for looking at her right now, but she wanted to go with him, right? It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong. He even gave her his jacket. He’s taking care of her.

The coffee is cheap enough that Ezra can buy a strawberry milk to sweeten it. He knows she likes strawberries. She’s always drinking one whenever he passes her in the morning.

Yoomi takes the cardboard coffee cup when Ezra holds it out to her, taking a sip and instantly making a disgusted face. Without a word, he holds out the strawberry milk, and she lights up. She damn near tosses the coffee away, no regard for it being filled with liquid, causing a spike of anxiety to shoot through him, watching as the cup dances in a circle before balancing out and standing right as streams of dark liquid slide down the side.

“I love strawberries!” She looks so cute, Ezra thinks, smiling down at her as she looks up at him, holding the small cardboard box in two of her hands. He reaches out to pat her head, feeling a lurch in his heart when he feels how soft her hair is beneath his palm. She hums cutely at him, reaching one hand out to hold onto his thigh. A warmth spreads through his chest, making him swallow and look at her forehead to avoid her big, expectant eyes.

It’s obvious, isn’t it?

Ezra Chwe is a virgin. A big twenty-three-year-old virgin. He’s only ever kissed a girl, and that was years ago when he was a trainee. She kissed him, and he just went with it. He’s never actually had the guts to kiss a girl before, let alone make an actual move on one, but looking at Yoomi, who smiles at him with such want and desire in her big, round eyes, he finally feels it: the want, the courage, to have the guts.

He leans down, catching her lips in a sudden kiss. He presses his lips hard against hers, hearing a squeak from the back of her throat when he leans in more. That makes Ezra pull back as suddenly as he leaned in, looking at her with worry, opening his mouth to apologize, but Yoomi grabs his face, pulling him back in for another hard kiss against her smiling lips. He tries not to, but he smiles as well, feeling giddy at the fact that he’s kissing someone. Yoomi. He’s smiling because he’s kissing Yoomi. He pulls back just to lean in again, pecking her lips once, twice, three times like he remembers seeing in a show he watched with his mom when he was younger and living in the motel. It makes both of them smile. She giggles up at him, arching her back to tip her head up more and rub the tip of her nose against his.

Ezra gets them a motel for five hours. That’s enough time, right? It’ll be nine in the morning by the time they have to leave. That’s more than enough time to do whatever people do in motels after going to the club. He assumes they’ll have sex, and he believes he’ll suck at it, but he’s heard that practice makes perfect with stuff like that.

“Oh my god,” Yoomi muses when she staggers into the room, detaching herself from under Ezra’s arm towards a pathetic little couch to the side of the room. “This is just like the one in his office!”

Ezra chuckles at that, running a hand through his chocolate brown hair. She’s been talking the entire walk here, which wasn’t long, but he knows more about Yoomi than he ever thought he would. She hates her dad, her favorite color is green, she loves to dance, she wishes she had a body like Geni, and thinks the Chainsaw Man movie was a waste of time. It was a lot to take in; most Ezra doesn’t understand yet, but he took it in and kept it in his brain for later.

“Whose office?” He asks, still in the entrance of the room, untying his sneakers.

“Roan’s! I used to always be in his office, silly!” She says it as if he should know already, but there’s a big beaming smile on her face, and she turns around in front of the couch to watch Ezra stand up and kick his shoes off.

Ezra doesn’t like to assume. He doesn’t like to gossip, but there’s been whispers—There’s always whispers in the Mydol building, but there’s been a lot of whispers about Roan and Yoomi. Some girls say she fucked him for a spot in both groups she’s been in, while guys have said she’s easy to turn out because of Roan. He doesn’t like most of what he’s heard about Yoomi. True or not, the whispers leave a sour taste in his mouth. She’s too kind, too weird to be what others say she is when they talk about her and Roan, he thinks as he watches her sit on the two-seater black leather couch, bouncing on it with another giggle.

“Oh yeah?” Ezra chuckles, stepping into the room and walking over to Yoomi to stand in front of her. He’s hoping there’s a slight smile on his face, ready to be humored. “What would you do in there? I hate Roan’s office.”

Yoomi falters at that, tilting her head with a slowly dropping smile.

“You go to his office?”

Ezra feels like he’s said something he shouldn’t have. His body stiffens for a moment, quickly making himself relax not to alert Yoomi, but it’s not like she’s in a state to pick up on body language.

“Yeah. He doesn’t really like me.”

“Oh, really?” Her brows shoot up, and her head tilts. He nods.

“I’m usually only in there to get yelled at. He thinks I’m a bad dancer…I don’t know. He’s never liked me. ‘Said I’m only in the lineup because Jihan made it, and if he made ISSAYAH I wouldn’t have even been considered.”

Yoomi listens to Ezta spill his guts, looking perplexed for a moment, then she looks down at the couch, shrugging her bony shoulders.

“We don’t do that in his office,” She tells him, going a bit stiff. “I sit on his lap. We talk.”

Ezra suddenly feels cold and uncomfortable. He looks off to the side, biting the inside of his lip, wishing he were as drunk as Yoomi. He suddenly remembers she’s drunk and he’s not. He reaches out, placing his hand on her cheek and gently pushing her aside. She lets him, turning back to look up at him with parted lips. There’s an evident shift in the room, in her eyes, which makes Ezra take a deep breath.

"Yeah," Ezra whispers, "There's…rumors." Why not be honest with her? They had gotten this far. The shift on Yoomi's face tells him otherwise. He swallows, looking around the room and running his hands through his pockets, contemplating whether to sit on the couch or the edge of the bed. He can't keep standing there like an idiot, he thinks, especially with how Yoomi stares at him expectantly.

"What rumors?" She finally speaks. He finally decides to sit next to her and instantly regrets it. The fit is tight. Their knees are bumping, and their legs are pressed against each other. He hopes he doesn't come off like a creep. He wishes he weren't such a loser and had a drink when he was in the club; experiencing this sobriety is the absolute worst. He looks at Yoomi with an innocent shrug of his shoulders.

"They say he creeps on you," He tells her bluntly, watching how her eyes grow wide and her lip twitches. That makes something warm burst in his chest at how his words impacted her. There was a power to that. She hung on his every word. It hit Ezra in that moment; he was in control. His dark eyes scan over Yoomi's body, taking in every detail. From the size of her breasts to the color of her nail polish. She's small, skinny, and no match for Ezra. She's too drunk to assert any kind of power, even if she wanted to. He feels a hunger start to burn along the outlines of his stomach, blinking slowly at her.

"He takes us out, you know? He hates my guts, but he's still my boss, so I have to do whatever he says. He takes us out to the same BBQ place, and they all get wasted. Everytime. I don't. I never want to be there, because he's insufferable. I hate him. But when he gets drunk—"

"He talks a lot," Yoomi finishes in a low voice. Ezra nods with a small laugh, turning away from her. He hopes it sustains that hunger broiling inside him.

"He talks too fucking much. When one of your songs started playing in the restaurant, you know the first thing he said?" He looks at her again, but he nearly shoots her a glare by mistake. Yoomi has tears in her eyes; they're crystal clear in the hotel lighting, but for once, Ezra is unmoved by tears. "He said: "I've never fucked anything as tight as Yoomi's throat. You guts know Yoomi? The autistic one with the tits?" and kept going on and on about how easy you are for him, but he's never really fucked you," Ezra pauses, hearing Yoomi sniffle beside him, but he doesn't even glance at her.

"Is that true?" He asks, moving his head in her direction, but not looking at her face. He doesn't want to look at her. It's easier to talk to her like this when she's just a voice and a body. "He's never fucked you?"

Yoomi doesn't answer. Sobs only leave her, and even then, they're quiet and muffled. Ezra waits for a moment before looking back at her face to see the tears pour down her full cheeks like waterfalls. Her makeup has been smudged, but now flakes of mascara rest on her lash line, her real skin appearing through the wet streaks that removed her foundation. A guilt takes over instantly, making him shut his eyes with a deep breath through his nose.

"You should stop seeing him."

"Shut up, Ezra." She sounds so small, but even then, Ezra listens to her. He can feel his once oversized ego, deflating like a balloon just poked by a sewing needle.

He knew it would go this way. He looks up at the ceiling, bottom lip in a slight pout as he counts down from ten to calm his thudding heartbeat. He taps his fingers in beats of three against his knee before he stands up, clearing his throat. He doesn't say anything, just digs in his pocket for his phone.

"I'm getting us a cab—"

"I'm not going anywhere with you." He finds her sudden need to be independent annoying, but he pretends to be unfazed as he types in their address.

"We live in the same building, Yoomi. I'm taking you home." The silence makes Ezra look up from his phone, making eye contact with her for what feels like the first time in hours, despite them only being in this room for a maximum of thirty minutes. She looks confused, like a doe would look at the driver of the car that almost hit them. He raises his brows at her, condescension but lost.

"What?"

She looks around, confused, then shakes her head a little bit, her chocolate locks swaying.

"You're not going to fuck me?"

Ezra looks to the side, processing her words, then shaking his head as well.

"No. I never was," He says, a moment a transparencey for both of them. "You're too drunk…And the minute you brought up my fuckass boss, I didn't want to anymore." He uses her being drunk as the primary excuse, even though it was only 25% of the reason why he wasn't fucking Yoomi tonight. He knew deep in his gut he wasn't having sex tonight, especially with Yoomi. Why would he do that to her? Why would he do that to himself? Getting Roan's sloppy seconds made him nauseous. Just the mere thought had the flavor of bile on his tongue.

Ezra finishes ordering the cab. He'll be here in 3 minutes. He nods towards the door.

"Come on. Wipe your face and let's go." He starts without her, leaning on the wall to slide into his sneakers again.

This night went exactly how he thought it would.