☆ I wanna know if you're built for this
summary : hyunjin just started his military service , what's wrong could happen could him ?
a/n : this fic is the sequel of this fic , you don't necessarily need to read it to understand this story :)
Hyunjin had never been particularly athletic.
Growing up in a comfortable home on the outskirts of Seoul, he had always preferred art to sports, daydreams to discipline. He spent his childhood sketching in notebooks instead of running laps, watching clouds instead of counting reps.
Therefore his body reflected that preference : soft around the edges, a little rounder than his classmates, never quite fitting the sharp silhouettes of the boys who dominated gym class. And of course , his mom's cooking didn't help. She always enjoyed spoilling him , cooking him his favorite dish , encouraging him to always finish his plate
And of couse his father noticed.
His father always noticed.
"You need structure," he said one evening over dinner, chopsticks pointing at Hyunjin like an accusation. "Discipline. The military will fix that."
Hyunjin blinked slowly, still half-lost in a thought about the way the evening light was catching the window. "Fix what?"
His father's jaw tightened. "You know what."
And so, at nineteen, Hyunjin found himself standing at the gates of a military training facility with a duffel bag over his shoulder and absolutely no idea what he was doing there.
The intake officer glanced at his paperwork, then at him, then back at the paperwork.
Hyunjin hesitated. Because my father thinks I'm too fat didn't seem like the kind of answer that would inspire confidence.
"Personal development," he said instead.
The officer stamped his forms without further comment.
The barracks smelled like sweat and industrial cleaner.
Hyunjin was assigned to Unit 7, Room 3
It was a narrow space with six bunks, metal lockers, and exactly zero personality. The walls were bare concrete, the floor worn linoleum, the single window too high to see anything but a rectangle of gray sky.
His bunkmates were already there when he arrived.
The first to approach him was a sharp-featured man with cat-like eyes and a smirk that seemed permanently attached to his face. His name tag read "Lee Minho," and his rank insignia marked him as the room's senior soldier and acting squad leader.
"Fresh meat," Minho said, circling him slowly. "Let me guess. Rich family. Never worked a day in your life. Daddy sent you here to toughen up."
Hyunjin felt his cheeks flush. "I‐"
"Don't worry." Minho patted his shoulder, the gesture somewhere between reassuring and condescending. "We'll take good care of you."
The other soldiers in the room laughed , not cruelly , but not kindly either.
There was Kim Seungmin, a quiet soldier with sharp eyes who kept to himself and seemed perpetually focused on some internal goal. Felix, a freckled boy who spoke Korean with an Australian accent and smiled at everyone indiscriminately. And two others whose names Hyunjin immediately forgot in the chaos of unpacking and introductions.
That first night, lying in his bunk and staring at the ceiling, Hyunjin wondered if his father had any idea what he'd actually signed him up for.
The first week was brutal.
Morning drills at 5 AM. Endless laps around the compound. Push-ups until his arms trembled. Obstacle courses that left him gasping and covered in mud while everyone else seemed to power through effortlessly.
Hyunjin was not built for this.
By the third day, he was trailing so far behind during runs that the drill instructor had to send someone back to make sure he hadn't collapsed.
"You're embarrassing yourself," the instructor barked. "And you're embarrassing this unit."
Hyunjin nodded, too breathless to respond.
That evening, Minho found him sitting alone in the mess hall, pushing food around his tray without eating.
Hyunjin looked up, startled. "I... no ... not really."
Minho slid onto the bench across from him, his own tray piled high with food. "That's your problem, you know. You're not eating enough."
"I thought I was supposed to lose weight."
Minho laughed—a sharp, genuine sound that echoed in the half-empty hall. "Who told you that? Your drill instructor?"
Something flickered in Minho's expression, too quick to read. Then the smirk returned. "Look, kid. You're already behind everyone else. If you stop eating, you'll just get weaker, and then you'll really be useless."
He pushed a bread roll across the table.
Hyunjin hesitated, then took a bite.
It was the first of many.
The feeding started gradually.
It wasn't organized. It wasn't planned. It was just... the way things evolved.
Hyunjin struggled. Everyone could see it. He fell behind during training, got winded during drills, and looked perpetually exhausted. The natural response, somehow, was to give him food.
It started with Minho's bread rolls.
Then Felix started saving his extra portions from dinner. "You need the energy more than I do," he'd say cheerfully, sliding his rice onto Hyunjin's tray.
Then the midnight snacks began.
Soldiers returning from night duty would bring back treats from the convenience store just outside the base. From chocolate bars to chips or even instant noodles. Hyunjin's bunk somehow became the unofficial distribution center.
"For your blood sugar," someone would say, tossing a candy bar onto his pillow.
"You skipped lunch again," another would add, pressing a package of cookies into his hands.
Hyunjin didn't refuse. He never refused.
Partly because the food was comforting. Partly because refusing felt rude. And partly because (though he wouldn't admit it) he was starting to enjoy the attention.
Back home, his weight had always been a source of shame. Here, it had become a kind of inside joke, a bonding ritual that made him feel like part of the group rather than apart from it.
Even if it meant his uniform was getting tighter.
Even if it meant the scale in the medical office crept higher every monthly check-up.
Even if it meant he was becoming exactly what his father had sent him here to stop being.
Three months in, Hyunjin had gained fifteen kilograms.
His cheeks were rounder, his belly noticeably softer beneath his uniform shirt. The standard-issue pants that had fit loosely when he arrived now strained at the waist, and he'd had to request a larger size twice.
Minho, of course, noticed everything.
"Looking well-fed there, Hyunjinnie" he'd say during morning roll call, his voice pitched just loud enough for the room to hear. "Did someone smuggle a convenience store into your locker?"
"I'm just saying. If you keep growing at this rate, we'll have to roll you to the training field."
The other soldiers laughed. Hyunjin's face burned. But there was no malice in it , well not from Minho, at least. The senior soldier had a way of making even his sharpest comments sound almost affectionate, like a cat batting at a mouse it had no intention of actually hurting.
And besides, Minho protected him.
When soldiers from other units made comments, the kind that actually stung , Minho shut them down immediately.
"Hey, is that the pig from Unit 7?" a soldier from Unit 3 called out one afternoon, loud enough for half the compound to hear. "I heard they're using him as a training dummy because he's too soft to fight back."
Minho stepped forward, positioning himself between Hyunjin and the other soldier with a casualness that belied the steel in his eyes.
"That's funny," he said, voice silky. "I heard Unit 3's average IQ drops every time you open your mouth. Correlation or causation, do you think?"
The soldier's smirk faltered.
"Walk away," Minho continued. "Now."
Later, back in the barracks, Hyunjin mumbled a thank you that Minho waved off.
"Don't mention it. Seriously, don't. If people think I've gone soft, my reputation is ruined."
"I have layers, Hyunjin. Like an onion."
Minho threw a pillow at his head.
"Shut up before i stuff your mouth with tissue"
It was around the six-month mark that Seungmin started opening up.
They'd been bunkmates since the beginning, but Seungmin had always kept to himself. He was polite but yet distant, focused but private. He trained harder than anyone, studied obsessively, and seemed driven by something he never talked about.
One night, after lights out, Hyunjin heard him moving in the bunk below.
"Can't sleep?" Hyunjin whispered.
"Me neither. Want a snack?"
He reached under his pillow and pulled out a package of sweet rice cakes that Felix had given him earlier. After a moment, Seungmin's hand appeared in the darkness to take one.
They chewed in silence for a while.
"Why did you enlist early?" Seungmin asked finally. "You don't seem like the type."
Hyunjin considered the question. "My father thought it would be good for me. Help me lose weight, get disciplined. That kind of thing."
Hyunjin looked down at his belly, which was pressing against the waistband of his shorts even while lying down. "What do you think?"
Seungmin almost laughed. Almost. "Fair enough."
"What about you?" Hyunjin asked. "You're young too. Why early?"
The silence stretched longer this time.
"I needed to grow up," Seungmin said quietly. "I needed to prove I could stand on my own. That I wasn't just... someone who needed to be taken care of."
Another pause. "To myself, mostly."
Hyunjin sensed there was more to the story, but he didn't push. Instead, he asked, "Is there someone waiting for you? On the outside?"
Even in the darkness, he could feel Seungmin tense.
"Yeah," he admitted finally. "There is."
The pause was just a fraction too long.
"...yeah , something like that."
Hyunjin didn't really understood , but yet he didn't say anything more, just passed another rice cake down to the bunk below.
Some truths were safer left unspoken.
As Minho's discharge date approached, he talked more and more about "Hannie."
It started small , a comment here, a reference there. But as the weeks counted down, the mentions became more frequent, more detailed, more openly affectionate. When he wasn't talking about his three cats (that he was referencing as his sons with Hannie) , it was that mysterious girlfriend that no one heard until now
"Hannie makes the best kimchi jjigae," he announced one evening, apropos of nothing. "Seriously it's better than restaurant quality."
"And did i told you about how much Hannie love cheesecake ?"
"We know," Felix said. "You've told us seventeen times."
"Because it's important information. You should all be jealous."
"We are," Hyunjin mumbled through a mouthful of instant noodles. "Deeply jealous."
Minho ignored the sarcasm. "And the smile. God, that smile. It's like... you know how sometimes the sun comes out after a storm, and everything looks brighter? It's like that, but concentrated into one person."
Seungmin looked up from his book. "That's surprisingly poetic for you, hyung."
"You contain delusions, maybe."
Minho threw a sock at him.
But the stories kept coming. Hannie's laugh. Hannie's cooking. The way Hannie hummed while doing chores. The way Hannie's nose scrunched up when concentrating on something.
None of them knew what Hannie looked like. None of them knew anything concrete, it was just fragments of a person filtered through Minho's obvious adoration.
"You really love her, don't you?" Hyunjin asked one night, when it was just the two of them awake.
Minho was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer than usual, stripped of its usual sardonic edge.
It was the most honest thing Hyunjin had ever heard him say.
The day Minho left, the entire unit accompanied him to the base gates.
It was against protocol, technically, but no one stopped them. Minho had been there longer than anyone, had led Room 3 through three different cycles of soldiers, had become as much a fixture of the place as the buildings themselves.
Hyunjin stood at the back of the group, feeling unexpectedly emotional. For all Minho's teasing (and there had been a lot of teasing) th e senior soldier had looked out for him in ways that mattered. He protected him , he made him feel like he belonged.
"Don't cry on me, Hyunjinnie," Minho said, pausing in front of him. "You'll ruin my dramatic exit."
"Your eyes are suspiciously shiny."
Minho laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself. And for god's sake, stop eating everything in sight. At this rate, you'll outgrow the base."
"You won't. But it's cute that you said it."
And then Minho was walking through the gates, duffel bag over his shoulder, heading toward the parking area where someone was waiting.
The figure that emerged from the waiting car was not what any of them expected.
Shorter than Minho, with round glasses perched on his nose and a soft, friendly face. He was wearing a casual oversized sweater and jeans, his cheeks slightly chubby, his smile—when it appeared—exactly as radiant as Minho had described.
Minho dropped his bag and ran.
He swept the man into a hug so fierce it lifted him off the ground, spinning him once before setting him down and kissing him without hesitation, without shame, without any attempt at subtlety.
"Hannie," he breathed, loud enough to carry. "God, I missed you."
Behind them, the soldiers of Unit 7, Room 3 stood in stunned silence.
Felix was the first to speak. "Oh man ..."
Seungmin said nothing, but his expression had shifted something complicated moving behind his eyes.
Hyunjin just smiled, watching as Minho the sharp, sarcastic and untouchable Minho , was the one who melted completely in the arms of the man he loved right in front of his unit.
It was, he thought, unexpectedly beautiful.
Deeo inside he hoped thid kind of love could reach him too
Minho's replacement arrived three days later.
His name was Bang Chan, and he was, by all accounts, an unusual addition to the unit.
For one thing, he'd grown up in Australia. His Korean was fluent but accented, peppered with occasional English phrases that slipped out when he was tired or distracted. For another, he was unfailingly, almost aggressively warm , clearly a stark contrast to Minho's cool sarcasm.
"G'day everyone !" he said on his first day, shaking hands with everyone in the room like he was running for office. "I know I'm not Minho but I promise I'll do my best. We're a team. We look out for each other. That's how this works."
Felix, being Felix, was immediately charmed. "Finally, someone who speaks Australian!"
"... It's called English, mate."
Hyunjin watched the new arrival with cautious curiosity. Chan was broader than Minho, more solidly built, with a kind face and eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He seemed genuine. He seemed... nice.
Maybe too nice for this place.
But Chan proved himself quickly. He was strict when necessary , protocols were followed, discipline was maintained. But he was also attuned to his soldiers in a way that felt personal, not performative.
He noticed when Felix was homesick and found excuses to talk about Australia. He noticed when Seungmin was pushing himself too hard and quietly adjusted his duty roster. And he noticed when Hyunjin was struggling.
"You okay there?" Chan asked one afternoon, finding Hyunjin sitting alone outside the barracks, catching his breath after a training exercise.
Hyunjin looked up, embarrassed. "Fine. Just... needed a minute."
Chan sat down beside him. "Take all the minutes you need. No judgment."
They sat in silence for a while. Then Chan reached into his pocket and pulled out a protein bar.
"Here. You look like you could use the energy."
Hyunjin took it automatically. "I'm not sure more food is what I need, hyung."
Chan glanced at him, assessing. "Maybe not. But you're working hard, and you need fuel. Don't skip meals, don't punish yourself. That's not how progress works."
It was sensible advice. Caring, even.
Hyunjin ate the protein bar.
And then the next one Chan gave him.
Under Chan's leadership, the feeding didn't stop. If anything, it intensified , but in different ways.
Where Minho had been teasing and ironic about Hyunjin's weight, Chan was earnest. He genuinely believed he was helping.
"You had a tough session today," Chan would say, pressing a package of crackers into Hyunjin's hands. "Make sure you refuel."
"You've been on your feet all day. Here, I grabbed this for you."
"You look tired. When did you last eat? Here, take this."
The snacks accumulated. The portions at meals grew. And Chan as well-meaning as he was , kept finding ways to lighten Hyunjin's workload, to spare him the more grueling physical tasks.
"Hyunjin, you stay back and organize the equipment."
"Hyunjin, you supervise from here while the others run the course."
"Hyunjin, rest up. I'll handle it."
It was protection. It was accommodation. And it was, slowly but surely, making everything worse.
By the eight-month mark, Hyunjin had gained another twenty kilograms.
His uniform shirt no longer buttoned properly. The standard-issue belt had run out of holes. His belly was now hanging over all his pants When he walked, he could feel the unfamiliar weight of his body shifting with each step , he was now waddling as his thighs were rubbing together. His belly was swaying slightly, his breath coming harder than it should.
He avoided mirrors. He stopped looking down in the shower. He pretended not to notice the way his bunk creaked more ominously each night.
But everyone else noticed.
"You're getting big, Hyunjinnie," Felix observed one evening, with the kind of blunt honesty only he could get away with. "Like, really big."
"Are you okay with that?"
Hyunjin considered the question. Was he okay with it ? He'd come here to lose weight. His father had sent him here to lose weight. And instead, he'd gained more than he'd ever carried in his life.
But also... he didn't hate it. Not really. The food was comforting. The attention was warm. And between starving himself, pushing through pain, becoming someone he'd never been and this , the choice was easy to make
"I don't know," he admitted. "I think I've just... stopped fighting it."
Felix nodded slowly. "That's valid. Bodies do what they do."
"Tell that to my father."
"I'd rather not. He sounds scary."
Hyunjin almost laughed. "He is."
That night, he dreamed about bread rolls and convenience store chocolate, about Minho's smirk and Chan's gentle hands pressing food into his palms. In the dream, he was bigger , much bigger , clearly the biggest he ever was and somehow that felt right.
The next day he woke up hungry. Craving some of Chan's chocolate bar
The medical examination was mandatory.
Every soldier underwent regular health assessments, but this one was different. This was the comprehensive yearly physical, the one that determined continued service eligibility.
Hyunjin had been dreading it for weeks.
He stood in the medical building's waiting room, surrounded by soldiers from other units, acutely aware of how much space he now occupied. His uniform was the largest size available, and it still stretched tight across his belly. His cheeks had filled out so completely , making his double chin more visible that his face looked almost unfamiliar in photographs. Even his hands seemed thicker, his fingers softer.
When his name was called, he walked into the examination room with the slow, careful gait that had become his default.
The military doctor (a tired-looking man in his fifties) glanced up from his clipboard, did a visible double-take, and then sighed deeply.
"Step on the scale, please."
Hyunjin approached the standard-issue scale in the corner. It was the same model he'd been weighed on every month since arriving , a sturdy thing designed for soldiers in full gear.
The digital display flickered. Numbers appeared, then vanished, then appeared again. The scale beeped once. Twice. Three times.
The doctor frowned. "Step off and back on, please."
The doctor exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The scale's maximum capacity is 150 kilograms. You're exceeding it."
The words hung in the air like a verdict.
"You're over 150 kilograms, Soldier Hwang. The scale can't measure you."
Hyunjin stared at the display, uncomprehending. Over 150 kilograms. He'd arrived weighing somewhere around 85. In less than a year, he'd gained...
He couldn't do the math. His brain refused.
The doctor was already writing on his clipboard. "I'm going to have to flag this for review. Your BMI is well beyond acceptable limits for active duty. Field work isn't possible at your current weight , you'd be a liability to yourself and your unit."
"It means," the doctor said, not unkindly, "that you're being reassigned. Civic service. Administrative duties. Something that doesn't require you to run, climb, or fight"
Hyunjin should have felt devastated. Should have felt ashamed. Should have felt like he'd failed because he had failed, hadn't he? He'd been sent here to lose weight and had done the exact opposite.
Instead, all he felt was relief.
"Effective immediately. You'll be transferred to the city administrative office tomorrow. Someone there will help you finish out your service."
The doctor looked at him for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then he shook his head slightly and went back to his paperwork.
The administrative office was nothing like the military base.
It was quiet. Climate-controlled. The floors were actual floors, not mud or concrete, and the chairs were cushioned. There were plants by the windows , real plants, not the stubborn weeds that grew around the barracks.
The only things he would missed was his Roommate. Chan had given him his number, while Felix had promised to visit him after his enlist. Seungmin remained fairly calm but promised to see him again when they had all finished military service .
Hyunjin stood in the lobby on his first morning, feeling overwhelmingly out of place. His civilian clothes (hastily purchased when it became clear nothing from before his service would fit) they were simple but comfortable: a loose sweater, stretchy pants, slip-on shoes. No uniform. No ranks. No expectations.
"You must be Hwang Hyunjin!"
The voice came from his left. Hyunjin turned to find a young man approaching him younger than him, maybe, with bright eyes like a fox and an infectious smile that seemed to light up the entire room.
"I'm Yang Jeongin," the man said, extending his hand. "I'll be showing you around today. Welcome to the Seoul Metropolitan Administrative Corps!"
Hyunjin shook his hand, slightly dazed. "Thanks. Sorry, I don't really know what I'm supposed to do here."
"That's totally fine! Most transfers don't. The military doesn't exactly prepare you for paperwork." Jeongin laughed, a warm sound. "Come on, let me show you your desk."
He led Hyunjin through a maze of cubicles and filing cabinets, chattering cheerfully the entire way. The office, he explained, handled various civic matters , permits, registrations, complaints, records. It was unglamorous but essential work.
"And here we are!" Jeongin stopped in front of a desk near the window. It was already set up with a computer, a phone, and a small stack of orientation materials. "This is you. I'm right over there if you need anything." He pointed to a desk a few meters away.
"Thanks," Hyunjin said, settling into the chair. It creaked under him but held. "This is... nice."
"Better than running laps in the mud, right?"
Jeongin grinned. "I thought so. Oh, also ..." He reached into his bag and pulled out a small container. "...I brought extra kimbap for lunch. My mom always makes too much. Want some?"
Then his stomach growled, loud enough to be audible.
Jeongin laughed again. "I'll take that as a yes! I'll bring it by at noon."
He bounced off to his own desk, leaving Hyunjin staring after him with a strange sense of déjà vu.
Food offered freely. Kindness wrapped in calories. A warm smile that asked nothing in return.
It was familiar , but he didn't complain.
The first week passed smoothly.
The work was simple , data entry, mostly, with occasional filing tasks. Hyunjin found he didn't mind it. After months of physical demands he could never meet, sitting at a desk felt almost like a vacation.
And Jeongin was... everywhere.
He appeared at Hyunjin's desk every morning with coffee. "You look tired! Caffeine helps."
He appeared at lunch with extra portions. "Mom packed too much again. Please help me finish it."
He appeared in the afternoon with snacks. "I found these at the convenience store. Have you tried them? They're amazing."
Hyunjin accepted everything. He told himself it was politeness. Told himself he didn't want to be rude. Told himself Jeongin was just being friendly.
But by the end of the first week, his pants were already feeling tighter.
"You're settling in well," Jeongin observed on Friday afternoon, perching on the edge of Hyunjin's desk. "How are you finding it?"
"Quiet," Hyunjin admitted. "But good quiet. I like it."
"Better than the military?"
Jeongin smiled, and Hyunjin noticed for the first time how the younger man's eyes lingered on him , not judgmentally, but... assessingly. Almost appreciatively.
"I'm glad," Jeongin said. "You seemed stressed when you first arrived. Now you look more relaxed."
"Good." Jeongin hopped off the desk, then paused. "Oh, I almost forgot! My mom's making tteokbokki tonight , she love making it with tons of cheese because of my brother. She always makes a huge batch. Would you want me to bring some on Monday?"
Hyunjin knew he should say no. Should politely decline. Should at least pretend to have some self-control.
"That sounds great," he said instead.
Jeongin's smile widened. "Perfect! I'll bring extra."
The tteokbokki became japchae. The japchae became bulgogi. The bulgogi became endless varieties of home-cooked meals, convenience store treats, bakery pastries, and anything else Jeongin could reasonably justify bringing to the office.
"I can't finish this alone."
"You've been working so hard hyung , you deserve a treat."
The excuses were endless. The food was endless. And Hyunjin, who had never been good at saying no, found himself accepting all of it.
His body continued to change.
The desk chair that had creaked on his first day now groaned with every movement. His stretchy pants had been replaced with stretchier ones. His sweaters, once loose, now clung to the soft expanse of his belly. When he sat down, his stomach rested heavily on his thighs. When he walked, he could feel every excess kilogram.
He'd stopped weighing himself entirely. The number didn't matter anymore. What mattered was the comfort of it.
One afternoon, Jeongin appeared with a slice of cake from the shop across the street.
"Anniversary special," he explained, setting it on Hyunjin's desk. "One year since the shop opened. Free samples for everyone."
Hyunjin looked at the chocolate cake, it was filled with cream frosting, the kind of thing he would have been forbidden to touch as a teenager.
"You know," he said slowly, "you don't have to keep feeding me."
Jeongin tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"The food. Every day. You're always bringing me things."
"Because you like them," Jeongin said simply. "And because it makes you happy. Is that wrong?"
Hyunjin opened his mouth to explain that yes, actually, it might be wrong, that he'd already gained an alarming amount of weight, that his father would be horrified, that this wasn't normal
But Jeongin was still smiling at him. That warm, uncomplicated smile. And suddenly Hyunjin couldn't remember why he was supposed to resist.
"No," he said finally. "It's not wrong."
"Good." Jeongin pushed the cake closer. "Then eat. I'll bring you something to drink."
He disappeared toward the break room, leaving Hyunjin alone with the cake and the growing realization that he was, perhaps, exactly where he'd always been meant to end up.
He wasn't thinner , of stronger or "fixed"
Softer and rounder and somehow more at peace than he'd ever been
Hyunjin took a bite of the cake
Months later, when his mom phoned and asked about his military service casually, during one of their rare conversations , Hyunjin just smiled.
"It was an experience" he said
Hyunjin thought about Minho's bread and teasing. About Chan's well-meaning snacks. About Jeongin's cakes and his mother's cooking and the way the office chair had eventually been replaced with a sturdier model without anyone ever mentioning why.
"The best kind," he said.
