rustle | exo: you probably couldn't see through the lights (1/2)

You probably couldn't see through the lights (but you were staring straight at me)
— Baekhyun/Chen, Chen/Kyungsoo + others. PG-13. 43208 words.
— All the white noise in Jongdae's life begins to freak him out of his own skin. Enter Kim Joonmyun and his distinct tone. (Warnings: age gap, emphasis on drinking and clubbing, brief mentions of death. Please take these warnings seriously.)
— Written for

teddyescher for

criticalcapture 2014! Originally posted HERE. Also available on AO3. Many, many thanks to Shailvi, Chelsea, and Frances for the hand-holding and cheerleading and for brainstorming with me during Those Dark Times. :)

The sound of the cheers is deafening. Jongdae isn't new to this — being in front of hundreds, thousands of people, the spotlight aimed straight at him, blinding and washing him out. He's been in the industry far too long for the feeling of the heat of the light prickling his skin to get to him, make him crack his neck and make the smile on his lips waver. He focuses his eyes on the camera in front of them, smiles — practiced, calculated, tight at the corners but relaxed enough to still win the hearts of many. He leans over to Taeyeon to whisper mostly just garbled syllables, and Taeyeon plays along, whispering in return.

When the camera pans to Jonghyun and the winner of season three, the muscles of Taeyeon's cheeks relax, pulling down a little. "I did mean that comment, though, the one about Jonghyun being an ass. I hate him!"

"Talented ass," Jongdae mumbles, a smile still at one corner of his lips. By now, he's mastered the art of frowning with one side of the lip, and smiling with the other; Taeyeon still takes home the award for best practiced smile in the industry, but it's not one Jongdae plans on snatching from her anytime soon. There are other awards to be won, recognition to be earned — he's set on the one Jonghyun has gotten himself for the third year in a row.

"Funny we should call him that when he doesn't—"

"Careful, the camera's gonna—"

Jonghyun looks over, smiling softly at them, the hint of tears at the corners of his eyes. There are a lot of things that you can fake as an idol — a smile, some laughter, the cock of the eyebrow or the twitch of the lip. Jonghyun's tears come too easily for him to even fake it, and if there's anyone in the room who's as real as he can be, it's Jonghyun.

Jongdae flashes one thumb up. Great job, you fucker, he mouths, only subtly so that the camera doesn't catch it. He means everything, even the wiggling of the thumb.

Jonghyun sticks his tongue out at him. I'll let you win next time.

Jongdae snorts, and Taeyeon slaps him in his side, claps near his face as if saying, this is our cue, we can't miss our cue to clap.

He raises his hands, clapping in the air, then in Jonghyun's direction. Don't be too easy on me, sunbae, he mouths right back, and there it is again, that flash of spontaneity, a moment of complete surrender — Jonghyun cackling, mouth wide open as he laughs-cries-loses it completely in front of national TV, with the winner of The Voice of Korea season three right beside him, crying on his shoulder.

Jongdae shakes his head, gulping hard as he tries to hold back his tears. If this TV show is a game of pretend, then he'll win, hands down. Probably.

It isn't a secret that after parties in the music industry stretch past midnight and seep into the morning, all the way up to late in the evening the following day. Jonghyun calls for a celebration party for the celebration the night before, saying, "I'm not the best party organizer, but damn that was one hell of a party!" He means Boa dancing on top of a table, both hands pointing forward as she bobs her head, duck face and all, or maybe Taeyeon belting out Celine Dion's To Love You More and singing the last few lines into a bottle of Jose Cuervo. Then there's Jongdae almost dropping an entire unpeeled lemon into his drink, giggling as he said, "Oh, I didn't feel like peeling it." All of these Jonghyun had taken a video of, and Jonghyun had kickstarted the evening at Blue Moon with a trip down last night's memory lane, humming Last Friday Night under his breath as he paused at the best parts of Boa's twerking video.

"I don't know which is worse," Boa begins, pausing to take a sip of her Margarita. She's playing it safe tonight, still nursing a nasty headache from last night's session or maybe from holing herself up in a studio for one whole day, trying to master the last of the songs for her upcoming album. "Him releasing that to the press, or giving the management a copy."

"Blackmail, on both counts," Jongdae quips. He rests his chin on Jonghyun's shoulder, and Jonghyun shrugs him off in response. "They won't mean a thing, though. You still have that video from last year, right?"

"The one where Taeyeon had him dress up as Barbie—"

Taeyeon chuckles. "I have one where he's in a Sakura costume—"

"Okay, I get it, you guys are asses." Jonghyun locks his phone, laying it down on the table. "And Jongdae's getting us drinks. Second round's on you, right?"

"Motion for Jonghyun to pay for everything since it's his idea to drag us out here, anyway." Jongdae grins at Jonghyun, bare teeth flashing at him. Beside him, Boa's already running her finger along the drinks list, asking Taeyeon if Long Island has enough alcohol despite the 'iced tea front'. "All those in favor, say aye."

"Aye, aye, aye," Taeyeon says, the snakes an arm around Jonghyun's shoulders. Jonghyun isn't that small, nor does he have a tiny frame, but the way he folds and tucks his chin at the slightest brush of Taeyeon's hand against his arm makes him look like a child lost in a huge bar, rubbing elbows with the cool kids. Jonghyun grumbles, turns to Jongdae with a snarl until Jongdae waves him off and says, "Okay, okay, I'll get us a couple of shots, but you're in charge of the Black Label later."

"Dude, that's for old people."

"We are old," Jongdae replies. Shoving truths up in people's faces has always been one of his better traits; the worst has got to be the inability to wake up before ten following a long night in a bar. Tomorrow will see the worst of him again, but then substitute 'bar' with 'office' and you'll get the same effect. The difference is in enjoying solitude in a huge, sound-proof space, headphones worn over his ears as he ploughs through compositions and beats and notes; years after and party music still isn't his type. He's only here for the alcohol; if he's inebriated enough then he can at least pretend he likes dancing to Talk Dirty or whatever's the latest hit.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm still a kid."

"At heart," Taeyeon says, turning to Boa. "No escape, unnie — you're the eldest. I have a picture of your birth certificate as proof."

"That's actually kinda creepy?" Boa's laughing lightly, anyway. To Jongdae, she says, "Come on, get your ass moving. Alcohol's the only thing that can make us feel younger."

"I say 'regret'!" Jongdae calls out before slipping from the thickening crowd in the second floor, taking slow steps as he makes his way downstairs and to the bar.

Blue Moon hasn't changed much from when Jongdae had last been here — roughly a few months ago, just before the live shows for The Voice of Korea began. Being a coach meant having to look after fifteen more people even if he hardly had an idea how to take care of himself, but it's fun enough a job that he's signed himself up for another season, renewing his contract before heading to the party last night. "You can even expect me to be there for three more seasons," he'd even said, and he couldn't tell back then if it was the pain of losing to Jonghyun for the third time in the row that made him say that, or if it was because of the fact that he found himself actually enjoying teaching people how to sing properly. It was a testament to how much he's grown as an artist, as a performer, as a person who once thought music was only something that got him through rough nights spent inside a hagwon, the four walls of his private cubicle closing in on him with each passing day, until Sooneung finally came.

"Twenty shots," he tells the bartender, then leans on the counter as he waits for his order.

The band that has been performing for the past hour finally ends its set, closing with slow rock. If there's one thing that has drastically changed in Blue Moon, it's the type of music that it serves. Back when Jongdae was still a trainee at SM Entertainment, Blue Moon was one of the places he'd frequently visit. Blue Moon was known for its jazz music then, slow and mellow that catered only to the older people. Jongdae loved the relaxing sound, though, so when Jaejoong invited him to Blue Moon along with a few more friends (Youngsaeng who was set to debut in a few months, and then Jongwoon who was to collaborate with Dana on a track for a TV drama), he accepted all too quickly. It was the first break Jaejoong had caught after the promotions for his second studio album, and the smile on Jaejoong's lips — soft and relaxed and relieved — was the first Jongdae had seen from him in a long, long while.

"Who'd have thought that someone who can only dance for shits and giggles will actually debut?" Jongdae remembers Jaejoong saying. His debut song, Incomplete, was a mellow track that people of Jaejoong's age normally didn't sing in the hope of being skyrocketed to stardom, but Jaejoong wasn't like any other singer — he was partially tone-deaf and the only way he could tell that he was singing the right notes was through the vibrations in his throat. Jaejoong had a voice that moved even Yoo Youngjin to tears the first time Youngjin heard Jaejoong sing. Jaejoong had a tone so distinct Jongdae had to live with the sound of Jaejoong's laughter in his ears the first few months following Jaejoong's debut. That happens to Jongdae all the time &madsh; people's voices getting stuck in his head, too many different sounds that he can't pick his own voice among the throng anymore.

"You keep putting yourself down, hyung," Jongdae had said then, and took one of the tequila shots nearby. "You may not be the best dancer, but you're a great singer."

"So are you, Jongdae," Jaejoong had replied. His voice was soothing, the type that wrapped itself around you like a quilt. "So until you become a good enough dancer, fake it — do your best and keep believing that you will become a great dancer someday. Heck, maybe you can be even better than I am."

"Everyone's a better dancer than you are," Jongdae had quipped, chuckling. After a while, he added, "Hyung."

He debuted three years later, at the age of twenty-one — a bit older than most idols hoping to make it big in the industry, but old enough to be really good at what he was supposed to do — he'd already found a workaround for his weird vocal tone, already knew his own voice, its highs and lows, its kinks, like the back of his band. When he nearly went sharp on his debut performance, he winged it, doing a run up until he reached the highest note he could possibly reach, then transitioned to a falsetto. It is still one of his best performances, to date.

"Looks like I'm not yet late," comes a familiar voice from beside him. Jongdae looks to his side, and he feels the corners of his lips tug up in response. "Is this Cuervo?"

"Nah, it's Don Julio. Your favorite, right?" Jongdae replies. He opens his arms wide, leaning forward to take the person in his arms for a quick hug. "Look, Baek, I'll let you in on a secret — Jonghyun's the only one who likes Cuervo—"

"But everybody likes Taeyeon-noona, yeah," Baekhyun finishes, giving Jongdae a few pats on the back before pulling away. "Missed me already? C'mon, I just missed the party last night; we've been spending every week together before that."

Jongdae's eyes dart to the stage, now void of the band that had just performed. Someone goes up, two mic stands in hand — one shorter than the other, and also of a different color. "Jonghyun was more quiet than the usual. I was missing the noise," he says after a while, turning to the bartender with a small smile as the drinks arrive. Baekhyun steals one for himself, downing the shot in a gulp. Another wave of silence, and Jongdae's halfway through balancing the tray on his hands when the performer on stage moves closer to the microphone, a small voice filling the room. No words other than the occasional, "Mic test, one, two, three," but the performer keeps strumming his guitar, tuning it. The cacophony sounds strangely like real music, though, not a complete disarray of notes.

Jongdae lays the tray back down on the counter and takes a shot. The bartender mumbles something about refilling the shot glass, and Jongdae simply shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the performer.

"He looks tiny," Baekhyun comments. A few more strums, then a pluck jolting Jongdae back to his state of complete soberness. "I'll say hi to the people up there," Baekhyun then says after a while, taking the tray from Jongdae and bringing the drinks to the second floor.

Jongdae takes a seat at the bar, swiveling so that he's facing the stage. Complete silence, then a familiar opening sequence. The strumming starts slow, mellow, and Jongdae leans forward, his chin propped on his clasped hands. The performer has his eyes closed, and the spotlight sort of washes him out — bright blond hair, white polo, blue jeans, brown leather shoes that make him look like a young professional working in an advertising agency. The darkness on either side close in on him as the spotlight dims a little, and his voice comes in, soft humming that slowly peaks, a smooth transition to the first verse.

His voice isn't anything spectacular — it's thin, reedy, but he sounds different. Jongdae goes through a catalogue of artists in his mind — too low for Alex Goot and Sam Tsui, maybe a bit high for a normal Sam Woolf, but the tone sounds a bit familiar, like he's heard it before, only once, somewhere that isn't Blue Moon or in the vicinity of Gangnam. He goes through places now as the song transitions to the section just before the chorus, the performer's voice hitting a sweet spot, a velvety tone spilling from his lips as he hits a note higher than most male singers can reach.

Jongdae takes a deep breath. He's never been good with faces, but he never forgets a voice — two years ago, in Hongdae, when he and Jonghyun celebrated the occasion of their new singles reaching platinum status in a little over two weeks in Bbang. Ten in the evening. Piano as an accompaniment, singing Vienna Teng songs. A voice at the back of his mind says, he looks more comfortable playing a guitar. The name still escapes him, but he can hear the stark improvement in the voice now — considerably fuller, more rounded at the peaks of the song. A bit more confident in the way he carries himself, despite the slightly hunched shoulders. But then that might just be the weight of the guitar pulling his shoulders down.

The second verse has stronger strumming going on, and Jongdae finds himself bobbing his head to the rhythm of the beat. The performer has opened his eyes now — dark and heavy, but at least the message cuts across even more clearly now with the performer making eye contact with the crowd. Their eyes meet briefly, but the performer can be staring at anyone; Jongdae's old and his eyesight isn't exactly the best, even with his contact lenses on. The performer can be staring at the bartender behind Jongdae, and Jongdae just happened to be in the way.

By the time the song reaches the second chorus, Jongdae's already humming the song, studying the lyrics carefully to know which parts he can draw out, which ones he can opt to not put much emphasis on. Probably one octave lower for me, but the pitch is just right for him, Jongdae tells himself. The previous verse is still playing in his head.

There's a bit of dissonance as the second chorus ends, moving on to the bridge. The set up is painstakingly long, and only on the second run of the line give me love, after eight counts and a second voice soars above the performer's usual tone, does he realize what's going on. The performer's singing into the electric green microphone in a pitch much higher than the one he'd used in the previous verses, but— "This isn't falsetto," Jongdae whispers to no one in particular. He gulps hard; only then does he realize that his throat has gone dry.

The performer keeps going higher until he steps back for a while, hitting his guitar hard just a few spaces shy of the hole, only lightly at first. Another four counts, then he hits it harder than before, and the music starts to take a different feel now. Jongdae can feel his chest constricting, his throat burning. There's the sharp taste of metal on his tongue.

The performer leans back in now, singing the same verse in a much lower tone. Slowly, he takes each line higher, one notch at a time until he has his eyes closed again, eyebrows furrowed as he belts out one last high note, a soft ooh that wraps around Jongdae and sends shivers down his spine. His hands have gone cold, and the singer's hitting his guitar hard, pounding, again and again until he's almost hugging his guitar.

The grip on the guitar loosens and the singer throws his head back, one hand wound around the microphone. His skin is pale, almost sickly in the harsh stage lights, and he's swaying to the music he has created on stage, tapping his foot to the melody.

Jongdae clenches his fists. The accompaniment fades out abruptly, and the singer draws the microphone close to his lips.

Jongdae exhales.

There are very few people who can successfully pull off singing without any accompaniment, and this person, this singer right here — so much larger than the stage and the song and any other performer Jongdae has seen recently — he is one of them. Jongdae feels his jaws go slack, his breathing heavy and ragged. The guitar slowly comes back in, the song stripped down to only a few layers of sound, and the singer does that thing again where he tilts his head, closes his as he belts out a note, taking it higher, his voice dissolving into a nice falsetto. He sounds a bit strained when he goes for notes lower than his normal register, but it only adds more emotion to the song, and Jongdae has to ball his fists even more until he can feel his nails digging into his skin, until the singer hits a high note and does a run until he reaches a more comfortable note in his range.

The soft tone — the singer's light humming — comes back on, providing accompaniment as he sings the last few lines, then fades out as he claps, the ending bouncing off the walls of the club.

Complete silence, then Jongdae slowly stands from his seat, bringing his hands together in applause. The singer looks up at him, eyes wide. The twitch of the eye is funny, makes him look like a completely different person from the man who'd just finished performing a song, finished singing and crafting the instrumentals for the song on stage. He holds the gaze, grins despite his lips quivering, and from the corner of his eye he can see Jonghyun approaching — either him or the bar, but he can't be bothered to tear his gaze from the scene right now — the patrons in front giving the singer a standing ovation, Jongdae's tiny figure in the distance swallowed by the crowd.

"Dibs," Jongdae mutters even before Jonghyun can say anything, and Jonghyun lets his hand fall to his side.

"Johnnie Walker," Jonghyun then says to the bartender and takes the seat beside Jongdae's, sitting with him in companionable silence as they wait for the drink and for the next song.

The set runs for a little under forty-five minutes, all acoustic despite the heavy percussion-like beats that the singer creates with his guitar. Jonghyun excuses himself to rejoin the group around three songs into the set and reminds Jongdae to get the group an extra round. "Payment for being selfish and staying glued to your seat while we laugh at you up there," he adds, but winks before turning on his heel and whispers, "Let me know how it goes." Jonghyun disappears with the bottle of whiskey, and Jongdae orders gin tonic for himself, sipping slowly as he savors each and every note slipping from the performer's lips.

A standing ovation punctuates the end of the performance, the crowd clapping endlessly as the performer bows to everyone — the patrons, the staff, the next set of performers at the foot of the stage, even his fancy microphone on an electric green mic stand. Jongdae gulps down the last of his drink, weaving his way through the crowd as he waits for the singer to get off-stage.

"That was some performance there," Jongdae says, faint enough so he doesn't draw unwanted attention to himself, but loud enough for the singer to hear. "Suho, am I right? I'm sure you mentioned your name somewhere along the way."

"Ah." The singer laughs a little, a small yelp escaping his lips as he nearly misses a step. Jongdae moves to his side, reflexes quick as he fastens his hands on the singer's arm. "You have superior hearing, then. I couldn't even hear myself above my heartbeat," he replies, and even in the dim light Jongdae can see the faintest smile lighting the corner of his lips.

"Never thought I'd see a loop pedal again," Jongdae comments, eyeing the box-like machine at the edge of the stage. He can hear Suho more clearly now, despite the crowd applauding as the next band gets on stage and introduces themselves. "I mean, people are either too lazy to use it or—"

"Too young to know how to make it work," Suho finishes. Jongdae feels cold fingers wound around his wrist — he's being dragged to the side, farther from the stage and closer to a quieter place. "I'm glad to meet someone who actually knows what a loop pedal is."

"Well, I have been—" Jongdae swallows, chuckling as he pauses. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm—"

"Kim Jongdae, stage name J.D.," Suho finishes. There's a perfunctory smile on his lips, but it reaches to the corners of his eyes, highlighting the crinkles. Whatever's beyond the soft catch light on his eyes disappears behind his bangs, and Jongdae tries not to furrow his eyebrows when he sees the middle part. "Balladeer, one of the esteemed coaches of The Voice of Korea. Kim Jonghyun's biggest nemesis—"

"I think you mean kismesis," Jongdae interrupts. He can feel laughter bubbling on his lips. Standard idol practice tells him to hide his laughter behind his hand or will all control to come rushing back to the muscles of his face, but Suho's finding it harder to keep it together, the once tiny smile on his lips now spreading across the pink flesh, tugging up too hard at the corners. His teeth are bright, too white, and for a brief moment Jongdae's concerned about how it can blind people when the stage lights hit Suho's smile. "There are days when I don't hate him as much, though."

"Such as now," Suho mentions, then gestures towards the second floor, at the group of people at the table near the railing — Jonghyun's laughter can cut through the music of the band if he wanted to. "I… take it you're with them? I shouldn't be keeping you, then—"

"Ah, no, that's fine. I'm actually—" Jongdae scrunches his nose, brushing the tip with the back of his hand. "How would you like to join The Voice of Korea for season four?"

The warmth in Suho's features quickly turns into shock, a quarter of Suho's bright eyes disappearing behind his blond hair. His lips are poised in a small 'o', and Jongdae can see the veins running along Suho's neck. "Is this a scam?" is the first thing he says; the second, "I'm sorry, I know it's not but— Me?"

"You've got—" A peculiar tone, one so unique I had to stay down here the entire set and leave my friends up there at the risk of Baekhyun showing incriminating pictures of me to Jonghyun; worse, Boa. "An interesting voice," Jongdae finally says. His throat feels so dry and empty; he should do it a favor and not take shots as soon as he gets up there, maybe stop by the bar to grab a Long Island? "And your style is really unique. I don't think anyone—"

"Uses loop pedals these days, yeah." Joonmyun laughs a little. The evidence of strain on his neck is gone, and his cheeks are a soft shade of pink — Jongdae can feel the muscles in his shoulders relaxing. "I'll… think about it, is that okay? I don't know how to feel about strangers approaching me, asking me to join a televised singing competition."

Jongdae snorts, then quickly winces as the thought of keeping appearances nags at him again. "Two things, Suho — you just told me you knew me, and you're worrying about being televised but you have no qualms performing in Blue Moon?"

"I… am a bit weird, yes," Suho admits. "I'll need a better backstory than that if I want to get past the initial auditions, though."

Jongdae takes a deep breath, all recalibrated now — hands in his pockets, the crazy grin on his lips now tame in a close-lipped smile. "I can help you with that, too, if you let me," Jongdae says, then fishes for his wallet, taking out a calling card. "Give me a call. And please don't give away my card; that's actually my personal line right there."

"No secretaries for the big shot?" Suho scoffs, but Jongdae can still hear the hint of amusement in the tone — he's always been good at picking sounds apart, dissecting each and every one of them. Suho's high notes sound much better than the low ones. "I'm sorry, I'm probably getting too friendly… Thank you, Kim Jongdae-ssi. I'll definitely give this some thought."

Jongdae waves a hand dismissively. "Just Jongdae is fine. Jongdae-hyung, I mean." He scratches the back of his neck. "I just keep assuming everyone's younger than me."

"Comes with age," Suho teases, winking as he ends. "And I'm fresh off of college so…" His voice drifts off, gaining cadence as he looks up again, meeting Jongdae in the eye. "Call me Joonmyun, please," he continues, holding out his hand. His palm is small, but his fingers are long and slender. His nails have grown out; maybe he's long outgrown the piano but, Jongdae thinks — no, hears — his voice can go well with the slightly heavier beats. "Kim Joonmyun. Suho's actually… a really bad stage name."

"We can add that bit to your backstory, too," Jongdae comments. He can feel laughter clawing at his throat again. "So, Joonmyun, I'll hear from you? Where's your next gig?"

"If you're as good with voices as you say you are, then you'll find me." Suho — Joonmyun — fishes his phone from his pocket, keying in a series of numbers that Jongdae only figures is his mobile number when he feels his phone buzzing in his pants. "I'll see you around, hyu— Can I just call you sonsaengnim? I'm sorry, I'm just… I mean you might be my coach someday and I'm just an aspiring contestant and— Yeah."

"You can call me anything you want."

"Well then, sonsaengnim—" Joonmyun gives him a curt nod, "If you don't mind, I'll get ass drunk now and be an irresponsible kid for once."

Jongdae watches Joonmyun turn on his heel, his soft laughter ringing his ears long after Joonmyun has left, disappearing into the darkness.

Jongdae takes one long look at the number on his phone, saving it as Kim Suho, then slips it back in his pocket. Joonmyun isn't at the bar when Jongdae gets there to order another round of tequila shots, but he can still hear Joonmyun's voice, each lilt, each low and high note, in his ears, sending shivers down his spine.

Jongdae wakes up with a tiny jerk of the body, his phone pressed close to his cheek as the alarm sounds off.

It takes roughly a minute to register that no alarm ever goes off for more than a minute, and in an obnoxious tone, no less. Jonghyun, a voice at the back of his mind says, more out of habit than out of spite, but Jongdae's sense of justice has never cooperated with him at such an early hour. "What do you want?" he says into the receiver once he finally figures out how to pick up the call, completely ignoring the name flashing on the screen even before drawing his phone close to his ear. "Hello? Is this pizza delivery."

"A gentle reminder that you have a breakfast appointment with the best person in existence," the voice on the other end of the line says. It sounds more human than robotic, and a lot less lethargic. "Get up, Jongdae. You promised to get coffee with me at nine."

He checks the display, Byunbaek flashing at him in big, bright characters. Jonghyun's never completely inebriated to mess with his life; he'd take a stab at messing with Jonghyun's phone, but then Taeyeon had called him a kid when he almost did it (Boa said he was a genius; he's actually somewhere in between). "When will you ever learn that coffee isn't my hangover drink?" he asks now, dragging his ass off the bed, pajama bottoms catching on his toes as he gets back on his feet.

"Yeah, like I'll ever not try to get you out of your bed early." Some static in the background, then, "InBus in an hour?"

"You live in Banpo. The cafe's almost just around the corner for you." Jongdae frowns then cracks his neck, his right hand steadily pressing phone against his cheek. "Will you be styling your hair for thirty minutes or something? It's just me."

Baekhyun laughs on the other end, voice cracking as it drifts off. He's probably been awake for thirty minutes, at most, but he needs twenty more to ease his voice into a more familiar, more velvety tone. Baekhyun knows better than to damage his vocal chords, better than most people, but then Baekhyun has never been the type to be too mindful of rules. "I'm meeting up with Sunyoung after breakfast," Baekhyun says now. Jongdae can hear him sticking out his tongue. "I love it when you wear those tight jeans, by the way. It creates an illusion that you actually have an ass… Bye!"

A loud, shrill beep, and Baekhyun's voice disappears from the other end of the line. Joonmyun's soft voice come in, a quick burst of sound that disappears just as soon as it comes. He can still hear light humming in the air, though.

Life as an idol normally entails getting up early — five in the morning, sometimes even earlier if there's a shoot or if comeback's drawing nearer — and being at your very best behavior from an ungodly hour in the morning until the whee hours of the evening. Jongdae has long accepted that, the routine of idol life, having spent more than a decade following the same pattern day in and day out like a prayer he says everyday. Now that he's thrust into the sudden change in 'schedule', the freedom to wake up later than the usual and to actually have breakfast in a coffee shop instead of grabbing fast food take-out on his way to the company, it tips him off the scale, nearly sends him down on his knees, face dangerously close to the carpet.

He looks at himself in the mirror and laughs at the dark circles under his eyes. "No, Jongdae, you can't YOLO the shit out of your face. You have to put on make-up," he tells the figure in the mirror, then quickly slips out of his pajamas and the rest of his clothes, the dirty clothing finding themselves a home just outside the bathroom. He turns on the shower and closes his eyes, and then there it is again — the stage lights washing out Joonmyun, drowning out his white top and blond hair and pale skin in a stream of light. The only thing that's left of Joonmyun is his voice, the same one that starts out soft, maybe a bit weak, but ends with a powerful high note.

Jongdae turns the knob, making the water crash down on him harder. The force pricks his skin, but the collision of water on tiles does very little to drown out Joonmyun's soft singing in his head.

Caffe InBus is a little less than an hour's drive from his house. He parks somewhere near the subway station, the only one with available parking space. and passes Exit 9, walking straight ahead until he can see the large sign up front. Through the glassm he can already make out Baekhyun's figure near the big autobot-looking machine, as he and Baekhyun have always called it. The security guard addresses him, telling him that Baekhyun's waiting at their usual table, and he waves at Baekhyun as soon as their eyes meet.

"You really didn't comb your hair," Jongdae comments, scrunching his nose as Baekhyun leans in, almost shoving his hair into Jongdae's face. "Did you even wash it?"

"Of course, I did. And I call this the disheveled look; I'll make it a hit in thirty minutes, just you wait and see."

Jongdae takes the seat to opposite Baekhyun, the one not facing the windows, like falling back into old habit. Jongdae always tells anyone who asks that his eyes are light sensitive but really, he just doesn't like people watching him while he eats.

"I got you your salmon thing, by the way, because you ordered Eggs Benedict the last time we were here," Baekhyun mentions, laying his phone down on the table, back cover on top. "And I called dibs on Eggs Ben after that."

"You call dibs on everything."

"Not on the kid you found last night, I didn't." There's a grin on Baekhyun's lips, one Jongdae hasn't seen in a while. Despite having to work alongside each other during recordings for The Voice, they've never managed to do some catching up between shoots or commercial gaps, or even during breaks where there's nothing but the expanse of space between them (and the other teams, and the rest of the world). "You saw a lot of potential in him, huh?"

"He's…" Interesting, to say the very least. His voice keeps popping up in Jongdae's mind, like flashes of light in a movie sequence where one character almost gets into a car accident. He'd heard Joonmyun's voice again earlier, while brushing his teeth, and for a brief moment he was concerned that Joonmyun probably wasn't drunk enough to not catch the stench of too much alcohol in Jongdae's mouth when they talked after the performance. And then again, just before Jongdae turned the corner, the particularly high note making Jongdae stop in his tracks and look to his left and his right before taking quick steps to his destination. So much for YOLOing the shit out of life. "He's alright."

"Good enough to catch your attention," Baekhyun replies. He smiles at the waitress when two glasses of water are set in front of them. "I like the loop pedal thing going on. Haven't seen one since, when was that, the season when Jinki won?"

"Season one," Jongdae answers, rolling his eyes as he leans back into his seat. "Same season as Kyungsoo's." He drums his fingers on the table, the tips of his fingers grazing his glass. "The tall guy, yeah? I think he was Taeng-noona's kid. She kept pleading him to get a haircut."

Baekhyun gives him a long look, eyebrows still as he tilts his head. It takes a while before Baekhyun resurfaces, a familiar glint in his eyes, and the coffee soon arrives — Baekhyun has finally graduated from overly sweet coffee to something that at least won't send his blood sugar levels shooting up if even he drinks it on a daily basis. "On a scale of one to Kyungsoo, then, how good is he?" Baekhyun asks now, leaning on his palm, cheek to hand as his speech gets slightly muffled.

"How can Kyungsoo even be—" A waitress approaches them, Baekhyun's Eggs Benedict glimmering under the warm lighting like it's been lifted from a magazine spread. Jongdae salmon something is soon placed in front of him, and he smiles at the lady, thanking her before she leaves. "But on a scale of one to Jonghyun, you're Jonghyun-point-five points annoying."

Baekhyun laughs a little, tight-lipped, and simply shakes his head. Jongdae fishes for his phone from his pocket — the notification for Joonmyun's missed call is still in the dock. "I got you a lime refresher, by the way," Baekhyun says after a while. His eyes are fixed on his food now, no longer studying the quirks of Jongdae's face. "Biggest size, so we can split."

Jongdae grins. He can feel the pressure at the corners of his lips, like his face is being ripped open. "You're nursing a hangover. That's why you asked me to come here, you're—"

"Old," Baekhyun mumbles. "Also, your phone light's flashing." Baekhyun points an accusing finger and the phone, squinting hard and leaning in like there's a secret to be divulged. "It's blue, so it must be a text message." He sneers. "Who's the victim now?"

Jongdae quickly picks up his phone, thankful that the notification is of an email and not a text — word on one of the songs he composed for Taeyeon. He should really disconnect his company email from his phone's email application. He navigates to the messages, smiling a little when he see an unfinished message — hi jmoonyun this jongdae, great performans last night, wud luv 2 see it agen. A quick glance at Baekhyun, then he brings his gaze back to the message in front of him, moving his shoulders forward and tucking his chin. He erases the message, typing up a better one that's void of tragic misspellings, and lays his phone face down on the table.

Baekhyun's chuckling now, his eyes squinted just a little. "You're doing that thing again, the Squirtle thing."

"Please. I am so past that stage." Jongdae places a table napkin on top of his phone, then scores across the strip of salmon, two more times until he gets a nice, clean cut. "I evolved two years ago."

"Better double-check your pockets. I think you've got an Everstone there or something," Baekhyun teases. There's something yellow on the left corner of his lips, and Jongdae leans forward on instinct, reaching over to brush it off with his thumb.

"You should stop doing that, you know," Baekhyun mumbles. "I'm getting married in two months, what are people going to think?"

Jongdae snickers, but he sinks back in his seat, wiping his thumb on the table napkin under his plate. "You're marrying Sunyoung because she's the only girl who can stand your endless chattering," he says after a while, after slicing his bread in half.

He glances at Baekhyun's plate — the egg yolk's everywhere, but if he quints hard enough he'll see patterns, like Baekhyun's been drawing on the plate with the mess he's made. Thirty-eight and there still isn't a semblance of order in Baekhyun's system, no logic behind his actions. The day he met Sunyoung, he'd immediately said he'd fallen in love; the year after, he was already planning to propose to her. Some things just… feel right, you know what I mean? Baekhyun had said one time, thumb running along the band of the ring he'd picked out — a gold ring with diamond in the middle, about the size of his pinky nail. Or maybe bigger, since Baekhyun rarely trimmed his nails. And when that feeling keeps nagging you, if it won't let you go… well, then, you should probably hold onto it.

"I'm marrying her because—" Baekhyun trails off, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He sticks out his tongue, like the rest of the message is there, scrawled on his skin, and Jongdae just shrugs. "You'll still be best man, yeah? No excuses this time since preparations for your comeback won't be until—"

"Next year. Or never. I don't know yet." Jongdae pops a thin slice of salmon between his lips. "I'm writing something for Boa-noona, though, after I polish the track for Taeng-noona."

Baekhyun snorts. "Lemme guess — it's not SMP enough."

Jongdae cackles, then quickly hides his laughter behind his cup of coffee — a bad decision, really, because having control over his hands is not a talent of his at this time of the day. The hot surfaces catches on his lips, and he scowls as he takes a sip, slow and careful. "I should change my motto to Y.O.R.O. — you only revise once," he says once the stinging sensation has disappeared. "This one's really minor, though. I just have to clean up the last bit, lower the levels of the percussion so that Taeng-noona's voice doesn't get drowned out."

Baekhyun makes this weird sort of face at him that makes him terribly unattractive, despite the glimmer in his eyes. "YOLO's so last year. Get rid of that, I mean it.

Jongdae only shrugs as he stirs his coffee. The reflection of his hand quivers as he repeats the circular motion.

The rest of the conversation dissolves into Baekhyun reminding Jongdae about being in charge of the bachelor's party, and making sure that Jinri doesn't add more people to the guest list. "The job of the best man is to make sure that the maid of honor doesn't go ballistic," Baekhyun even tells him, and he just laughs, more because of Baekhyun actually feeling nervous about the whole thing than anything else. "And if she drives Sunyoung crazy, Sunyoung will get cranky. And if she gets cranky—"

"So will you," Jongdae finishes. He takes the last piece of food on his plate, slipping it between his lips as he bites the tips of the fork, slowly pulling out the utensil. "Which means I'll suffer, as well."

"You know me too well," Baekhyun confesses, laughing lightly as he does so. "But you like the chaos. You like the noise," Baekhyun says, almost snorting. Some of his food catches on his bottom lip; Jongdae sits on his hands to keep himself from reaching over.

When Jongdae asked for a break from the management, he meant to fly overseas, take a tour around Europe, maybe. He wanted to be alone and away from people who knew him, people who thought they knew him. I just want to unwind, detoxify or something, he'd said then; he didn't mean, I have to take care of my best friend's wedding, do something a grown up would normally do. Fast forward to the end of The Voice season and here he is, trying to make sense of his best friend's new life when he can't even organize his.

Maybe he should label points in his life using Post-its; then, everything will be easier, and the road to wherever he really wants to be will be an easier trek.

Joonmyun's soft humming suddenly rings in his ears and he looks around, searching for the source of the sound. He ends up with nothing — the pipe in music is of some French song he won't even try to understand, and Baekhyun's unusually silent, words tripping over his own breath as he takes a sip of his drink, eyes fixed on Jongdae — or maybe whatever's over Jongdae's shoulder.

Jongdae's phone gives off a short beep, then another. He looks at it for a while then flicks off the table napkin. He can feel the light upward tug of his lips, can feel Baekhyun's gaze still heavy on him, unrelenting, as he reads the message on his phone — hi sonsaengnim! i'll be at zzyzx tonight, 10pm. i guess i'll see you around? then, shit you were supposed to look for me, weren't you. He cracks his neck, typing up a message as quick as his fingers can move across the screen — better luck next time, kid. i'll c u — and leaves the display on long after the message has been sent.

Baekhyun's eyes haven't left Jongdae's phone, and Jongdae counts until the display turns to black — three, two, one—

And another message comes in.

They split up at Exit 9, with Baekhyun taking the subway to Hongdae to surprise Sunyoung in the hagwon she owns. Jongdae had warned him that Sunyoung might not like it, saying, "She might even kick you in the balls," but trust Baekhyun to not think of the repercussions of a sweet gesture that he knows Sunyoung will openly express disdain for, albeit teasingly (she'll love it just the same, though; she'll let him know when they get home). "Try to get of your place and your office more often!" Baekhyun calls out to him before taking the stairs, and Jongdae waves him off with his hand, walking straight ahead and to the parking lot.

He can still recall the first few years of his career, hastily walking down the streets of Gangnam in the morning with Baekhyun pressed to his side, arms locked. "Inseparable," music critics have called them, and if they weren't working in the same company and Baekhyun hadn't damaged his vocal chords eight years into his career, they'd probably still be performing at Kim Jungeun's Chocolate or at one of Shin Dongyup's shows. Or maybe they'd be talking about their earlier years as an idol on the radio; Ryeowook's always generous with giving them spots as guests in Kiss the Radio.

Now Baekhyun has Sunyoung, and Jongdae has too much free time in his hands.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he digs deep with one hand to take his phone out. Joonmyun's reply is is this like the callbacks where i prove to the producers that i can actually sing before i get to the blinds?, and Jongdae doesn't send a text back until he's back in his car, engine roaring to life as he pushes the engine button and turns up the radio.

A Coldplay song comes up, one of Jongdae's favorites. Too slow for a voice as thin as Joonmyun's; it will probably just highlight the holes in Joonmyun's tone. This will sound better in Kyungsoo's tone, or maybe Baekhyun's if he was still in the business of singing. Jongdae shakes his head, but Joonmyun's tiny voice remains somewhere in the melody.

He finally types up a reply, saying, pretty much. and i'll give you an objective assessment if you promise not to drink right after your performance.

wow sonsaengnim, you're strict, comes Joonmyun's reply. i look forward to it c: see you later! gotta work now

Jongdae drops his phone on the passenger seat and drives to the company. He makes sure the covers are all up; morning drives are best with music blasting in the car, some of the beats soaring above the noise of honking cars just beyond the window.

He heads straight to studio nine when he arrives to meet with Taeyeon and one of the music directors, and they discuss the things that need to be done for the last track, the one Jongdae had composed specifically for Taeyeon. The formal conversation on music and lyrics stretches past an hour, another thirty minutes, and Jongdae ignores the soft buzzes of his phone in his pocket, a weird harmony of Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and Joonmyun's voices in his brain.

There isn't much to distract Jongdae from his work in the afternoon. Taeyeon excuses herself right after the meeting — it's almost three when they finish, and she has a thing with Jonghyun that Jongdae very well knows is their daily coffee break. Jongdae stays in the studio long after the meeting has ended, saying that he has a couple of tracks to work on. Bullshit, he tells himself as he mindlessly plays something on Audition — Jonghyun won't be releasing any new material in the next few months, and Boa certainly won't enlist help from him on her choreography for her upcoming worldwide tour. There's nothing to be done.

He contemplates on texting Baekhyun for a while, but then Baekhyun's probably out doing groom stuff with Sunyoung. Jinri's not exactly the type of company he'd like to have on a sullen afternoon, either. He hits the keys too hard, the dissonance making him himself away from the table. There's the faint sound of Joonmyun's voice again — still singing the same song, the one that had caught Jongdae's attention back in Blue Moon. With a deep breath, Jongdae tries to play the same melody, one octave higher so that it suits Joonmyun's voice better. Maybe if Joonmyun hears the song in this pitch, he won't strain his vocals as much anymore, and his speaking voice won't be as scratchy right after a performance.

After a few test runs, Jongdae hits the record button and starts playing.

Jongdae wakes up in the studio with a throbbing pain in his cheek and something that feels a lot like keyboard imprints on his skin. He glances at the clock of his laptop — 8 p.m., still too much time until he has to be in the club to catch Joonmyun's performance. He stands from his seat, anyway, packing his laptop and heading out of the studio. His hair sticks to his forehead, and he brushes his bangs away with the back of his hand, automatically smiling when a few trainees greet him in the hallway.

He shakes his free arm on his way out to his parking space. Sometimes he can't tell which skin he's wearing, if he's wearing anything at all.

Seeing a gig at ZZYZX means standing with at least fifty more people in an open space, not a table or chair in sight. It's more convenient to watch from the second floor where there's nothing to obstruct the view, but Jongdae always prefers doing things the hard way and making eye contact with the performer. He weaves through the slowly thickening crowd, berating himself a little at his choice of clothes — he'd dropped by his place earlier to leave his laptop and to change into clothes more befitting of the place. The patrons of ZZYZX are more fashion-conscious than most, after all, and a muscle shirt plus bright yellow pants simply won't make the cut.

He isn't sure if Joonmyun's actually going up first, but he secures himself a good enough view from just beyond the barrier, hands on the railing as people pass behind him, elbows digging into his back. Not getting a drink at once was a wise decision; he doesn't want to waste money on a drink that can potentially get knocked off his hands a minute into the set.

The spotlight goes out abruptly, and the blue light all around him dims. Jongdae's vision isn't the clearest, but he can identify the figure in the dark slowly making its way up the stairs. The lighting's soft enough to not wash Joonmyun out this time, and the blue hue kind of makes his hair sparkle. Fairies and their magic dust, a voice at the back of his mind says, and he leans forward, resting his chin on his hands.

Joonmyun spots him not too long after and gives him a curt nod. He's dressed not much differently today — he's wearing a patterned blazer, and there's still the classic white polo underneath. His legs look much longer in his dark, skin-tight jeans, and he's wearing bright red rubber shoes. If this is Joonmyun's definition of fashion, then he and Jongdae have to talk about that, too; Jonghyun had always said that it was the ultimate weakness of Jongdae's team, the lack of good taste in matching fashion pieces.

He unbuttons his polo — two buttons, where it's much easier to breathe and not feel his chest pop out. Joonmyun strums his guitar a few times, an odd sort of harmony in the way he tunes his guitar. "I call this the Tuning Song," he says into the mic, eyes fixed on Jongdae as he does so. The crowd erupts into collective laughter — some light, some a bit louder than the usual. It's a nice melody, one that soothes the muscles of Jongdae's shoulders.

A pluck, a long strum, then another pluck. The spotlight intensifies, and Jongdae sees Joonmyun squinting. Joonmyun combs through his hair before getting his hands back on the guitar then starts plucking, only lightly at first.

Joonmyun starts with a series of soft plucking this time, adding another layer after eight counts, one heavier than the previous. Jongdae can't help but be drawn to Joonmyun's fingers, long and slender, and their little movements, even smaller than Joonmyun's frame. Jongdae blinks a few times at the sound of Joonmyun tapping his guitar lightly and, after another eight counts, Joonmyun's voice finally comes in.

He sounds different tonight — softer, more vulnerable. Joonmyun didn't play this song last night, and Jongdae's only half-thankful that he hasn't; the other half of him is still stuck in the intro, where Joonmyun's voice hasn't come in yet. The song is soft, and Joonmyun's voice sounds so tender and soulful when the song hits the chorus. The sound of the instruments fades under just a little, making Joonmyun's voice stand out all the more. The sweet, honeyed tone slips from his lips as he tilts his head, lips too close now to the microphone. Keep six inches between your lips and mic, Jongdae can hear a voice at the back of his mind say, but Joonmyun's voice soars high above any other sound at the moment, and Jongdae really can't be bothered to tear his attention from Joonmyun — standing still, singing in the pitch he's most comfortable in, hitting each and every single note perfectly.

Then there's the regular strumming again. Joonmyun's tapping his foot. Jongdae is, too, despite the lack of space. He scowls when he almost jams his foot into the tiny platform separating the stage from the railing.

His mind drifts into a memory of Hongdae, one fine day at Bbang, an image of a small Joonmyun being swallowed by the intimidating presence of a piano larger than him, a Joonmyun singing one Vienna Teng song after another. Joonmyun has grown — if he sang Shine or Harbor now, he'd probably sound better. But stick to the guitar, another voice in Jongdae's mind says. Percussion will drown out your voice; the strings will help you bring out your voice more.

Joonmyun hits a particularly difficult note for the bridge, one that Jongdae can't even imagine himself singing because maintaining that tone will make him sound whiny, scratchy. Joonmyun seems unfazed, though, pressing on with the song with his eyes open, eyebrows furrowed. His eyes are far more expressive that they should be, and he looks a bit funny with that worried look on his face that goes completely off-track from the message of the song. There's a long note somewhere towards the end of the bridge, just before the chorus, a run where Joonmyun does four key changes — all high ones, notes that bring out the real power of his voice. His voice trails off just in time for the guitar to come in, but only for a while — Joonmyun goes on without the instrumentals for a while, and the guitar comes in again only halfway through the last chorus.

Joonmyun ends with a soft you are the only one, pulling away from the microphone as he plays the last few notes of the song.

The crowd erupts into cheers, some even into shrill whistles that almost startle Joonmyun, now wide-eyed, a grin stretched across his lips. His blazer looks too big on him from where Jongdae is, but then the stage is so much bigger here than it was in Blue Moon. If Joonmyun could just shine a bit more, then he'd be a better fit on stage. Or maybe he just needs to lose the light clothing and go for all black; at least, then, Jongdae won't have to squint too hard to see him.

A band comes to join Joonmyun for five songs, and Joonmyun has to draw the microphone way too close to his lips when he sings. The crowd's clapping harder now, in the air, some bottles and glasses of alcohol raised as if in one big toast. Jongdae follows suit, an imaginary glass in the air, and he catches sight of Joonmyun looking at him silly. He makes a mental note to tell Joonmyun to never lose his focus — don't let anything distract you, not even my beautiful face.

He takes note of the veins along Joonmyun's neck, the ones that reach to the underside of his jaw. The furrow of Joonmyun's eyebrows is a constant presence; what concerns Jongdae more at the moment is the way Joonmyun's left hand shakes as it rests on his guitar.

Joonmyun manages to pull off an Alex Vargas song at the very end, performing a more solemn rendition of Wasteland. The loop pedal to Joonmyun's right finally sees its screentime after being cast aside for too long, and the crowd immediately cheers when Joonmyun wraps his hand around the green mic stand. There's the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Joonmyun's lips, more relaxed despite Joonmyun squinting hard. There's a patch of red on his neck, then his arms — Jongdae knows how that feels, being under public scrutiny for extended periods of time. He knows the way red light stings the skin after being exposed to it for too long.

He kind of misses it.

The set wraps up in under an hour, and the crowd is as generous with cheers as ever — even the patrons at the second floor are clapping. Someone throws something that looks like a square piece of paper at Joonmyun's feet, and then there are a couple of cards, and Joonmyun just laughs, teeth bared and glinting in the harsh stage lights. He slips from the spotlight after a while, when the applause dies down, and Jongdae waves at Joonmyun, thumb pointing back at the bar as he mouths, I'm getting crushed here; I'll see you in the back.

Jongdae's already about a quarter into his drink when Joonmyun resurfaces, beads of sweat rolling down the outline of his face. His hair sticks to his forehead, and his make-up has caught on the collar of his polo. "You really have to do something about this." Jongdae leans in tentatively, patting the tuft of hair, and Joonmyun only laughs lightly in response.

"You said no alcohol 'til we get the assessment done, sonsaengnim," Joonmyun says. Jongdae gestures for the bartender to come closer, and Joonmyun keeps his eyes fixed on Jongdae, like he's looking for something that Jongdae has sworn not to surrender. "How was it?"

"Give him a gin tonic," Jongdae whisper to the bartender. He bites the inside of his cheek when he turns to Joonmyun whose gaze is more scrutinizing that ever. He can feel his face go hot, but his tolerance has never been this bad. There's a pause, then he feels his stomach grumbling. There's the culprit. "I liked last night's set better, song selection-wise, but you sound much more relaxed with the songs you've picked for the performance."

"Ah." Joonmyun shifts in his seat, moving closer. His knees bump into Jongdae's, and he mumbles a small apology before continuining, "It's a set I've been performing for a while now. Kind of like my fallback for when I'm not able to prepare."

"There's nothing wrong with having choice safe songs," Jongdae replies, taking a long sip of his drink. He holds his glass by the mouth, tilting it so that the liquid swirls. The ice has almost melted. It's not as cold as it should be in this part of the club, but then it's the middle of summer — just shifting in his seat makes him sweat. "I really loved the last one, by the way. Never thought an Alex Vargas song would have sounded good in your tone."

Joonmyun chuckles, but abruptly gets cut when his drink arrives. He gives the bartender a curt now and takes a long sip — it's been at least fifteen minutes since he's last sung a song, so Jongdae shouldn't be thinking of grabbing Joonmyun by the wrist and making him set his glass down on the counter. "I know that's supposed to be a compliment, but I can't help but think otherwise."

Jongdae laughs a little. "Your voice doesn't have that… natural gravel to it, but you still sang the song really well. So!" He raises his glass, tilting it a little in Joonmyun's direction. "Let's drink to that?"

Joonmyun follows suit. The clinks of their glasses are a nice break from the heavy beats a few meters away.

"I really hate noisy places," Joonmyun says after a while, his voice dissolving into the soft sound of bubbles popping as he takes a sip of his drink. Jongdae gives him a long look. He's pegged Joonmyun as the type who can live with a lot of things he doesn't quite feel comfortable with — standing on stage in front of a lof of people, all eyes on him as he builds a song in front of everyone. A blazer a bit too big on him, tapering off the shoulders, making him looking like a student lost in a club in Gangnam. The way he winces a little everytime he takes a sip of his gin tonic. Joonmyun hasn't spoken about the drink yet, not in the ten minutes that he's been drinking it, so Jongdae just lets him down the alcohol, one sip after another, until Joonmyun chugs down the rest of it in one big gulp.

"I like being in noisy places sometimes," Jongdae replies, then pushes the drink menu in Joonmyun's direction. "Pick anything. Reward for doing well tonight."

"I was beginning to think you'd confined me to drinking just gin tonic tonight." Joonmyun runs his finger along the list, a small smile on his lips as his eyes move up and down. Up close, with just a few inches between them, Joonmyun looks a bit taller than before. His bangs fall over his eyes, and Jongdae has to to cock his head to get the slightest glimpse of Joonmyun's eyes. "I'll go with a classic. Whiskey on the rocks?"

Jongdae looks over his shoulder, flashing one thumb up as he says, "I'll have whatever he's having." He straightens his spine when he turns back to Joonmyun who has now found something interesting on the menu, chuckling at whatever he's pointing. "What are you—"

"Can you please give me a blowjob?" Joonmyun says in a tiny, tiny voice, almost so screechy that it makes Jongdae wince. "I'm sorry, I'm being childish. This just—" Choked laughter, then Joonmyun presses the back of his hand to his lips. "It gets me all the fucking time."

Jongdae waits for Joonmyun to realize that he has just cursed in front of someone who's at least a decade older than him, waits for a bright pink flush to crawl up Joonmyun's neck, painting his face, then reach up to the tips of his ears as he giggles until he catches his breath again, but to no avail — Joonmyun isn't drunk, just a bit giggly. Maybe he's high on the rush of performing on stage, the sound of people's collective cheering intoxicating him. Maybe it's the gin tonic talking, but then Joonmyun has been doing gigs for a while already; he should be holding his alcohol better now. But then Jongdae barely knows anything about Joonmyun beyond his soft singing voice and melodious speaking tone, his bright blond hair that washes him out and shields his eyes from the public, from Jongdae's own.

"Let's get a blowjob after this, then?" Jongdae teases, and Joonmyun's laughter takes a sharp rise, then an equally abrupt dip as he covers his mouth with his hand. His shoulders are shaking and Jongdae feels that the blazer might fall off of one side at some point, or maybe Joonmyun might topple over, tiny frame not being able to hold all the laughter in, but all his thoughts dissolve into a thick blanket of white noise as Joonmyun lays a hand flat on his thigh — for balance, in agreement, or maybe just to keep himself in check, Jongdae can't tell.

The heat outside hasn't dissipated much when they leave the club, but it's easier to breathe here with all the space and the blowing winds. The rain isn't supposed to be pouring down until the end of the week, but Jongdae quite likes this — the meeting of heat and cold at two in the morning, Joonmyun's eyes fixed on every step he takes as they walk down the street, up until they reach a curb.

"I'll just take a cab from here," Joonmyun says after a while, finally looking up. The parting of his hair is all messed up, and wind plays with it all the more. Jongdae digs his hands deeper into his pockets; maybe he should be preparing his cardigans if he's going to be out until midnight more frequently. Joonmyun stretches an arm out, waving at the taxi that's fast approaching, and he looks over his shoulder taking a step closer to the edge of the curb. "Thanks for coming, sonsaengnim. Maybe next time I'll do a mix of the safe set and the not-as-safe one."

Jongdae snorts, but it sounds more like a scowl than anything else. His lips are chapped; second day in a row that he's had too much alcohol. His lips will be hating him come morning. "Just call me hyung, please. Sonsaengnim's a mouthful." He bends his knees, reaching over to give Joonmyun's hair a light pat, one that tousles his hair all the more but doesn't leave quite enough static for Joonmyun's hair to hold onto Jongdae's skin. "And try another Alex Vargas next time. How does Winter Snow sound?"

"I'll try to remember everything you're saying right now in the morning." Joonmyun ducks and slips inside the cab, looking up at Jongdae before closing the door. "But yes — thanks a lot, hyung. It feels nice to know that I'm sort of doing something right, coming from an expert."

Jongdae parts his lips, poised to speak, but the cab drives off even before he can get a word out. The opening notes of Winter Snow play in his mind, and he tries to match Joonmyun's voice with the song — he'd fast forward to the higher notes, but he can't think nor sing out of sequence today.

He locks his arms behind his back, stretching, then turns around, back in the direction that they came from. He can rethink recommending an Alex Vargas song to Joonmyun. Tomorrow, he thinks, maybe even whispers loud enough for his own ears to catch, and digs his hands into his pocket, the first few chords of Joonmyun's first song playing in his ear as he walks back home.

Jongdae wakes up with a jolt, eyes opening wide as a violent breath of life fills his lungs. He looks around him, but there's nothing but an expanse of white and the scent of fresh bedsheets filling his sense. He turns over, lying on his back now, and looks around. The sun's up high already, and the wall clock reads 10:15. There's nothing but a notification for a text, a KKT message, and a software update on the top dock of his phone. The room is painfully quiet again.

He unlocks his phone, checking the notifications, and raises an eyebrow at Joonmyun's message — home c: thanks for tonight, sonsaengnim!, quickly followed by a sorry, i meant hyung. rest well! hope you won't have a hangover tomorrow c: Jongdae stares at the tiny smiley at the end of the message, and is suddenly grateful that he doesn't have Joonmyun on KKT — Joonmyun sounds exactly like the type of person who'd wage a sticker war against him, abusing all of the bunny stickers from different sets.

hey, thanks for checking. i'm gud. He hits send all too early, suddenly aware that the airconditioning's turned up way too high. He'd been so conked out the past two nights that he hadn't been getting up in the middle of the night to adjust the temperature. He can hear Taeyeon telling him, you've been in that place for the past three years and yet you haven't discovered the right setting yet? It's hard to explain that a little change can be exciting at times, even with the smallest of things. And yes, even at the expense of skin suffering from the intense cold.

*gud
good
GOOD dammit

lol hyung. good morning. your typos are going to cost you credits. you have KKT?

Oh boy, a voice at the back of Jongdae's mind says — voices, ones that sound like Boa, Taeyeon, Jonghyun, and Baekhyun harmonizing in his ear at ten in the morning. He rests his phone face down on the bed and get up, pushing down the weird sensation at the pit of his stomach. It's morning sickness, probably; he's never been a fan of the sun.

The plan is to fight the hunger until he can't anymore, because his body's found that perfect spot on his bed again that lulls him back into a thirty-minute sleep. Somewhere between a second attempt at rousing himself from sleep and actually deciding that he can't win the battle between mind and stomach, he reaches for his phone, types up whatever reply to Joonmyun, and soon he finds himself in a KKT conversation with Joonmyun.

Brunch sees him in Hongdae, the hour-long drive aggravating his hunger all the more, but he pushes this at the back of his throat, set on having his first meal at Organic and not pulling over somewhere nearer. The KKT notification tone provides an added beat to the songs playing on his radio — today, he's got Walk the Moon songs loaded, and he quietly berates the industry not giving the band a break despite the quality of material that they churn out. At one point, just as the traffic light turns red, he snatches his phone from the empty seat beside him and types in the chat window, do you know walk the moon? Joonmyun replies with a plethora of exclamation points, then a much calmer message that says, i want! i want! is still my favorite EP from them.

Jongdae may have jammed his foot into the brake in response. Even Jonghyun, whose taste in music is far more diverse than Jongdae's, has never heard of Walk the Moon.

The trip to the company is much more bearable after the good meal, and somewhere along the way, halfway through Jongdae switching to Sum 41 for something that will keep him awake throughout a drive on a warm afternoon, Joonmyun makes a passing mention of +44, but isn't able to keep it together as he goes on about seeing the band live once, in a small event in one club. Just a one-time thing, sadly, Joonmyun even says, and Jongdae can almost hear the sudden dip from Joonmyun sweet high note to the low ones that put so much strain on Joonmyun's vocal chords. He flicks the turn light on, bobs his head to the music, and thinks about the way Joonmyun has looked so small last night, when Jongdae had put him in a cab.

On the radio, +44 keeps singing, And now I can't stop thinking about it, all you people at the top don't know nothing about it.

Tonight, it's Taeyeon who drags him out of the studio and into a club without any reason. "I just need to hear something else," she'd said, and her even make-up couldn't hide the tiny pimples lined along her cheek anymore. He'd contemplated on asking why it hadn't been Jonghyun, instead, or maybe Boa — he wasn't the best person to talk to when it came to nail polish chipping off, after all, but Taeyeon's grip on his wrist was so tight, and KKT has fallen into a dry spell after Joonmyun said he had work to do, but I'll check out rixton when i get home! promise! Insert a cute white sticker here with the character sticking one thumb up.

"Taking your whiskey neat? What's up?"

Taeyeon's usually the one who pushes for reserving a table for themselves whenever they hit the club, but today they're at the bar, elbows on the counter as they both swirl the liquid in their glasses. "The new song's driving me crazy. I'm not feeling it," she confesses, then pauses to take a sip. There's a sharp intake of breath before she continues, "It's not me, and I can't afford to not be me at this age. I mean—"

"Still?" Jongdae asks, but it comes out more like a question. He bumps his shoulder into Taeyeon's own when Taeyeon doesn't answer, and Taeyeon makes a small sound of protest. She leans in, anyway, but moves back to her original position, spine snapping straight like she's suddenly too aware of everything, like people might snap photos of them being a bit too chummy in a club. Kim Jongdae and Kim Taeyeon: dating? is the most probable title of the news article the media can come up with. The crazy ones will call it The Kim Jongdae and Kim Taeyeon Dating Scandal. Jongdae puts his weight on his left arm, giving Taeyeon some space, and he sees the gradual fall of her shoulders. "You've got to talk to them about it."

"I like the track you made for me," Taeyeon says after a while, a few more sips from when she'd last spoken up. "Maybe it's because you know my voice, because you actually understand how it works."

Jongdae laughs a little, tempted to reach over to ruffle her hair, but he doesn't. Instead, he grips his glass tight, takes another sip before saying, "Hey, I have finished second for the past two years, haven't I?"

"If you're so good, then you should've won first place."

"I don't have Jonghyun's charms," is all that Jongdae says in reply.

"Ah. Jonghyunnie." Her shoulders slump forward. Her glass is empty now, and Jongdae gestures at the bartender to order another whiskey for himself and margarita for Taeyeon. He waits for Taeyeon to retort, but she still has her head hung low, like she's studying her nails without any light source. "There you go; at least there's something good happening in my life right now."

"Other than me paying for your drinks?" Jongdae says, meaning to tease, but Taeyeon looks up at him sharply, eyes narrowed. Taeyeon hates being treated like something so fragile and precious. Maybe that's why she and Jonghyun fit so perfectly. "'Kay. Sorry. You're treating me tonight."

"I think he's… going to pop the question soon," she says, more quietly this time, like she's talking to herself. "It makes me a bit… antsy? I don't know, it kind of feels weird. We've been running around in circles for the longest time then he finally asked me out, and then we got together and then—"

So that's why it hadn't been Jonghyun who Taeyeon had dragged out here at Heaven, why Taeyeon had ordered him to drive for a good thirty minutes and weave through Seoul's traffic at nine in the evening. "You're going to be a great wife, if that's what you're wondering." She slaps him on the arm lightly, and then harder when he continues, "What, did you want me to say you'll be a great mother? I don't know, Taeng-noona, I'm not good with consoling through words and I can't give you a bear hug right now..."

Taeyeon laughs after a while, the fullest, richest sound he's heard her let out since she had approached him earlier this evening. "You can send me one of those cute stickers in KKT."

"I don't do stickers. They ruin the order and layout of my chats."

"So that's why there's a sticker plastered on your screen right now."

"What—" He remembers placing his phone face down on the table, but somehow it's been upturned, and there's an annoyingly cute bunny sticker flashing on his screen. 6 messages have added up from when he'd last checked his phone, but he ignores them all, turning his phone over and shooting Taeyeon a stern look as he says, "You thought you'd be able to change the topic, huh?"

"Nah, your focus is immaculate. Your persistence is even more..." She makes large gestures with her hands, and she settles on the word something when she ends up without anything. Her voice is huskier, tone low and dangerous and smooth, like the alcohol has soothed her throat and has loosened it up from when it had felt so tight. She's not looking at him anymore, eyes fixed on the shelves of bottles, instead, drumming her fingers on the table.

Jongdae shifts in his seat so that he can get a better view of Taeyeon's face. Heaven's lighting has never been the best — it's too easy to get swallowed up by the darkness once you step out of the dance floor — but he can make out the heaviness in Taeyeon's eyes when the roaming lights catch on their figures. It's not like the one he'd seen when Taeyeon had walked up to him earlier that night, but there's still a hint of it somewhere. "What, then?" he asks when Taeyeon hunches her shoulders, and she lets out a loud exhale as the rests her head on her clasped hands.

"I'm… not sure if I'm ready for this. This… the whole concept of being tied to one thing forever—" Her voice drifts off as she scratches the back of her neck like she usually does off-cam after the fifth take of a couple of spiels for The Voice. "—I think I've had enough of that with my job." She ends with a chuckle, and Jongdae's sure Taeyeon doesn't even try to lace it with amusement; they both know each other's voices way too much, each lilt and dip and sharp twist, for Jongdae to even second-guess the emotion in Taeyeon's tone.

Jongdae crosses his arms behind his head, locking his fingers as he stretches his back. "Constancy isn't so bad," he mumbles. He doesn't mean Taeyeon to catch it, but he knows she does anyway. "It's the change that disrupts it that makes everything… scary."

Taeyeon snorts a little. There's a light upward tug on the corners of her lips now. "Is it bad that I don't want to imagine Jonghyunnie handling kids? I mean…" Her voice drifts off, surfacing again when she giggles. "What if he drops them? You know him — his movements are so big even if he's so small and—"

Taeyeon erupts into a peal of laughter, her voice reaching its sweetest point, and Jongdae's cackling dissolves into a smile — soft on the edges, not strained at the corners. He's taken back to five, seven years ago when they were all still feeling small in a stage so big, when Taeyeon was still part of a girl group and Jonghyun was touring Asia and was sending them pictures of the crowd from different angles, when Boa was wilder on stage and more tame at the drinking table.

When Baekhyun hadn't met Sunyoung yet, when he and Baekhyun had booked the first flight to Lord knew where as soon as Jongdae received news that he was to get a two-week break and Baekhyun was lucky enough to have gotten a break from his promoting with five other people. When it was just them — just him and Baekhyun — and he had finally gotten used to the rhythm of idol life, the presence of fans and supporters and Baekhyun constantly blabbering in text messages.

"Just… hope for the best," Jongdae says after a while, once they've caught their breaths again. He tilts his mostly empty glass in Taeyeon's direction, and she simply frowns at her empty glass, orders another round for the two of them.

Her hand is warm on his thigh. Baekhyun's hands, too, are warm — on the small of his back, on his arms, wound around his neck. Joonmyun's hand isn't as warm, but then Jongdae hasn't spent much time with him yet; there's still time to study Joonmyun. He shakes the thought away and Baekhyun's voice echoes in his mind — I'm getting married in two months. What are people going to think? The bartender arrives with their drinks, and he laughs when he hears the small sound of triumph spilling from Taeyeon's lips.

"To just letting things happen?" Taeyeon tries, and Jongdae gives in to the nagging urge to ruffle Taeyeon's hair.

He raises his glass in accord. "To just letting things happen."

Taeyeon leaves a little past eleven in the evening, when Jonghyun finally convinces her that, "It's not good to get drunk when you have a 5 a.m. call time tomorrow." Taeyeon puts up a fight at first, fists balled against the rough material of Jonghyun's shirt, and Jonghyun turns to Jongdae, eyebrows furrowed in a call for help.

"Youngjin-hyung will kill you if you come in late, noona," Jongdae finally says, and Taeyeon relents, face falling forward, finding a fit in the crook of Jonghyun's neck.

I owe you, Jonghyun mouths as he carefully makes Taeyeon turn around so they can walk properly, and Jongdae calls out, "I accept payment in coffee vouchers!"

He glances at the mostly filled glass in front of him and the six notifications in his phone — they've now gone up to 8. Three of them are from Jonghyun, asking if he was with Taeyeon, while two were from the company, saying that maybe Taeyeon was right, maybe she should sing the track Jongdae had composed for her. The last three messages are from Joonmyun — a series of exclamation points, a sticker where some cute bunny is crying, and a chunk of text that mostly says rixton is good. i downloaded the entire discography!

well aren't u a fan, Jongdae simply replies and, right now, without Taeyeon occupying the seat beside his, Joonmyun's presence on KKT is the only form of company he has.

The next time he hears Joonmyun sing is at Finger Lounge, a completely unassuming place in Cheongdam-dong. Joonmyun had texted him at around six in the evening, saying, i suddenly have something at finger lounge. cheongdam, that's near your office right? feel free to come c: It's an open invitation, but Joonmyun might as well be asking him to go — Finger Lounge is small and has a relatively calmer crowd, and it would be the perfect place to talk after a great performance.

There isn't a stage here at Finger — just a small platform that's large enough to hold three people at the same time. The club's most filled by the time Joonmyun arrives, and he manages to get himself a good enough seat in the elevated area. He starts off with wine as Joonmyun prepares his equipment.

Joonmyun looks up, catching Jongdae's gaze. He holds it for a while as he smiles, then drops his gaze back on his microphone — the one attached to the loop, this time. There's an orange band around the edge of the mic for the loop pedal now.

Joonmyun delves right into the music, as he always does, saving the introduction for around two songs into the performance. Jongdae recognizes the first song as something from Joonmyun's first set — it's not as powerful as the song he'd opened with then, that fine evening, nor is it as raw yet soulful as the first song that Joonmyun did back in ZZYZX, but then this is a different crowd — Joonmyun's music might not be their kind of music, but Jongdae can see some people bobbing their heads, smiles on their faces as they whisper to each other, fingers drumming on the small tables. A couple near his table is mouthing the lyrics; Joonmyun figures this is a song cover, but sometimes it's hard to tell with Joonmyun reinventing songs with his trusty loop pedal half the time.

He has to catch up on the new music. Having to garble his made-up lyrics while belting out the tunes of new songs was funny the first few times.

It's a short set — just a little over thirty minutes, so it can't be more than five songs. Joonmyun has a habit of stretching certain parts of songs, after all, building the melody of the song on stage, putting himself out there with a 50% chance of failure. Jongdae had done that a few times, back when he was much younger — playing the piano on the radio, the guitar for some variety shows. Half the time, his fingers were cold while playing. He couldn't feel his hands. After a while, the nervousness had dissolved into some kind of longing for something else — a change of pace, maybe? But that wasn't Jongdae's decision to make.

He takes a nice, long sip the drink, and a few minutes after the feeling leaves him, quickly washed away by the soft hiphop beats in the background. Joonmyun's mouthing something at him that he can't seem to make out, so he simply nods.

It takes faster than usual for Joonmyun to navigate through the crowd and to where Jongdae is, a drink of his own in hand as he saunters to the table. "The steps look much steeper one drink in," Joonmyun mumbles as he takes the seat beside Jongdae's, and Jongdae simply laughs as he pours himself some more wine.

"You should learn how to hold your liquor." Jongdae takes a sip of his own drink — the bottle's already half-empty, and Joonmyun looks slightly appalled. "When you're an idol, you have to have really good alcohol tolerance."

"So that's why Baekhyun has way too many shots of him getting ass drunk."

Jongdae snorts. "Baekhyun's a disaster." In a lot of ways, really. His alcohol tolerance is the most laughable thing about him, though. "I'm your teacher, so I'll be the one to teach you things. Yes, even how to improve your alcohol tolerance."

"Oh? Getting a little possessive?" Joonmyun's voice is just one octave higher, and Jongdae takes a deep breath as the sweet sound reaches his ears. Joonmyun's eyes are assessing, maybe even repentant, like he'd like to take back what he'd just said, and there's a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, tight around the edges. "Nah, it's just… that time of the year. I have higher tolerance when I'm not this—"

"Drained?" Jongdae gestures at the dark circles under Joonmyun's eyes. "One day, I'll teach you about applying make-up and actually coming to a gig in a good outfit. You've got to make yourself look as if you've actually prepared for this." He takes another sip and Joonmyun does, too, holding out longer than the usual. "Sometimes, it's not enough for you to reel people in with your voice."

"My voice is all I have," Joonmyun says, tone casual again. The lighting is dim enough to dissolve what might be a red flush on Joonmyun's cheeks, but the green light from below casts him a sickly glow. "So that's what I have to work on."

"Stubborn," Jongdae mumbles, then reaches over to ruffle Joonmyun's hair. "Do something about that middle part. It's horrible."

Three drinks in and the conversation finally takes its supposed route, Joonmyun asking about the performance and Jongdae commenting about how the opening number isn't as powerful as it should be. "Song choices can make or break you," he reminds Joonmyun, and Joonmyun nods at him fervently despite his heavy-lidded eyes and the lazy grin on his lips.

"I'm thinking of doing an acoustic remake of +44," Joonmyun mentions somewhere along the way — Jongdae has lost count of the number of glasses he's had, or the number of times Joonmyun has convinced him that you're not doing anything tomorrow, anyway, so stay a little longer; you can have my drink. Joonmyun's drinking vodka neat tonight, and Jongdae has never been much of a vodka fan but he takes it, anyway, too lazy to get up and to get himself a new drink. "It's gonna be hard, and I'm not sure if I have much time to figure out the arrangement—"

His mind temporarily goes back to the conversation with Taeyeon, about another brand of change in the form of possibly getting engaged with Jonghyun. It's nice, seeing his friends get together and finally decide to get married — Baekhyun and Sunyoung, and now Jonghyun and Taeyeon. Boa's married to her career, but she's seeing someone; she'll never admit it, but everybody knows she and Jaejoong are secretly engaged. Everybody's moving on, wading through the thick blanket of noise, and Jongdae's stuck here, white noise all around him as he tries to figure out what he wants to do after The Voice.

He snorts. There's only one thing to do — sing, of course. Comeback will probably coincide with season 4, so he can promote and ride on the show's popularity. Marketing idols gets more difficult with age; you can't expect fans to stick with the same artist forever.

"I'm not sure how people will reach to an acoustic rendition of a rock song, though," Joonmyun says, and Jongdae feels a tiny jerk, enough to bring him back to the conversation.

"It has to be a couple of octaves higher so it'll suit your voice better," Jongdae replies. He pulls his shoulders back, stretching, cracking his neck as he continues, "I'll try to play around with it tomorrow. Haven't touched a guitar in ages, though." He chokes on the vodka when he downs the last of it in one gulp. "Fuck, I can't— Why do I keep drinking your drink? Who even drinks vodka without anything?"

"Me," Joonmyun replies, cheeky, one corner of his lips tugged up. There's still a pensive look in his eyes, and his hair's way too distracting for Jongdae to try to work out the arrangement in his head. He reaches out, brushing Joonmyun's hair to the side until the middle part's gone. Joonmyun doesn't wear any gel nor clay, and his hair's soft between Jondgae's fingers. "Hyung?"

"Never wear that middle part during gigs," he simply says, then retreats to his drink, scowling when he realizes that it's empty. "I'm getting whiskey for us. And no, you're not allowed to say 'no' to that."

Joonmyun says something Jongdae doesn't even bother to make sense of, and Joonmyun's voice, the soft and sweet high note, carries him through until he reaches the bar, no longer as inebriated.

Jongdae stays awake long enough to remember to text Joonmyun that he's gotten home safely. remind me to work on the +44 thing tomorrow, he says, then quickly corrects it as he texts i mean later. whatever just remind me okay?

you should give me your passcode next time, hyung, so i can put reminders on your calendar c: Joonmyun replies. Jongdae laughs a little, types, don't push it. sleep well little one, and sends the first sticker that resembles a smiling face that he sees in his most recently used stickers. When he slips his phone beneath his pillow, he thinks about Taeyeon and Jonghyun again, about the excitement and uncertainty in Taeyeon's eyes as she spoke about the possible engagement, about being left behind again.

He turns over so that he's lying on his back and closes his eyes. He tries to imagine Joonmyun's voice, the song he'd sung back in ZZYZX, that sweet note in the chorus. With a deep breath, he tries to clear his mind of anything but that high note, and falls into a peaceful slumber.

Jongdae doesn't exactly have the worst memory, but he does occasionally forget important things when he gets engrossed in composing — today, it's his appointment with Baekhyun, and Baekhyun snaps at him on the phone, saying, "How could you forget that we're supposed to have our tuxes fitted today?"

"Because I already have one? Jeez, man, relax." Jongdae quickly snaps his seatbelt in place, anyway, and gets the ignition started. The car roars to life, and he hears Baekhyun's loud exhale on the other end of the line. "Do you want me to talk to you while you drive to the place? I get that all the time, y'know, those fitting jitters—"

Baekhyun laughs a little. There's a thinning patience in his voice, but Jongdae knows Baekhyun can never be completely annoyed or mad at him. They've learned to live with it now, that fact, and Jongdae's the closest to home that Baekhyun can ever have after his grandmother passed away five years ago, during Chuseok. "Jongdae."

"Remember when I debuted?" He's steps on the gas and the car begins to move forward. The trip up to the ground floor takes thirty seconds if he's being careful with his driving, which isn't often, but he decides to push for twenty seconds today. "I'd been stress-eating then, and the stylist-noona told me—" He clears his throat as he passes by the security guards, giving them a wave before he pulls the window up again. He uses a high voice this time, the scratchiest he can muster, one he knows can both annoy and send Baekhyun hurtling to the floor. "Jongdae-yah, Jongdae-yah, you shouldn't be eating too many sweets. What will happen to your voice, your tummy?"

"Jongdae, stop. Seriously, this isn't helping."

He can hear a richer laughter bubbling on Baekhyun's lips now, though, and he imagines Baekhyun's throat loosening, Baekhyun uncurling himself from his sleeping position as he slowly, tentatively rouses, Baekhyun looking up at him, Jongdae's comforters drawn up to his bare shoulder, and saying, good morning, gorgeous.

Jongdae, stop. "Long story short, I fit in my outfit," Jongdae finishes, albeit abruptly. Baekhyun already knows the story, anyway; there's no need to go back to retell old tales. "So you'll do just fine! Just don't drink frappe while waiting for me. That shit makes you feel bloated as hell."

"Well thanks, best man."

There's a lump in Jongdae's throat. He wonders if he should drop by a coffee shop before heading to the tailor's; maybe then, when he finally has his morning coffee at ten in the morning, the tightness in his throat will ease. "You're welcome, Byun. Think you can go there now without me holding your hand? No more tears?"

Baekhyun laughs some more, louder this time. It almost blares in the speakers of Jongdae's phone. He files it under the category of "Foreign Sounds" at the back of his mind, for when he finds himself curling up in bed without Baekhyun's warmth to drag him out of his room. "Fuck you. I'll see you in a while. Coffee's on me. Americano, right? Splenda, as usual."

No coffee, then. His chest constricts, and he pauses for a while, wondering if it would be a good idea to hang up on Baekhyun without preamble and blame it all on poor mobile connectivity. With a loud exhale, he says into the receiver, "Yup, two packs of Splenda," and hangs up with a curt farewell.

He thinks of texting Joonmyun, but then there's nothing to talk about, really, not when he's already sent Joonmyun the +44 acoustic arrangement he'd worked out a couple of days back. Joonmyun's too young to understand the feeling of moving backwards when everyone else is moving on. Joonmyun's just his student, a man who has a lovely voice that eases the tension in his muscles and shoves vodka drinks his way whenever Jongdae's caught off-guard. Joonmyun's just another guy.

Seoul's early morning traffic gets the better of him, and Baekhyun only has three buttons left unbuttoned on his polo when Jongdae arrives. Jongdae's eyes trace the column of Baekhyun's neck, down to his collarbones and the giving flesh of his chest, and he blinks twice as Baekhyun shifts in his position. "It's hot," is the only thing that Baekhyun says, and Jongdae swallows all other thoughts that pass his mind, chokes them down until his hands are steady again and his successfully buttons up Baekhyun's polo all the way.

Baekhyun slips the blazer off of the hanger, putting it on in one swift motion just like how they've been taught back when they were still trainees. In all black, Baekhyun looks much older, much more serious, like he's being contained to a world of black and white and his color can't seep through the monochromatic pages. If Baekhyun wore his hair pushed back, he'd look better, more handsome. The furrow of his eyebrows had always been sort of endearing during Jongdae's darkest times, Seollal a few years back.

"You should be glad I'm not yet in my suit. Then I'd look so much better than you," Jongdae teases. Baekhyun jabs him on the arm, and even if Baekhyun hasn't said it yet, he knows that Baekhyun feels a bit too bundled up in what he's wearing. He's never fancied wearing formal attire, after all; even during awards ceremonies, Baekhyun had insisted he wear a light blazer over polo and jeans.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just—" Baekhyun turns around, twisting his torso as he checks his suit. "How do I look?"

Gorgeous. "Dark," Jongdae quips. Like you could kill. He ruffles Baekhyun's hair, and Baekhyun snarls in retaliation. "I think the actual suit can use a bit of work, though? Just so it would fall on your shoulders better, right—" Jongdae grips Baekhyun's arms, slides his hands up the corners of Baekhyun's shoulders. "—here."

There's a small smile on Baekhyun's lips. He has an eyebrow raised, and his eyes are squinted just a little. Jongdae fixes his gaze on the bridge of Baekhyun's nose, instead, because it's his most unattractive feature, if there's any at all. "Have you been taking fashion lessons from Jonghyunnie?"

"Ew. Not him." Jongdae cringes, making a display of his distaste, but Baekhyun's turned to the lady assisting him already and is telling her to have the suit adjusted just a fourth of a centimeter on both sides. "It's Boa-noona who has good taste. Jonghyun just puts stuff together, hoping he'd come up with a good outfit."

"Which explains why you made him pick out your season finale clothes."

"Shut up."

Baekhyun bows to the lady and tells her they'll drop by again in a week, or whenever the suit's ready. "You have my number, right? Just give me a call," he adds, then turns to Jongdae, swaying from side to side like he used to, back when they were still trainees, the cool winter breeze making their noses and cheeks a bit too red, Baekhyun's hand in his serving as the only source warmth. "Coffee?"

"Feed me," Jongdae sputters. He digs his hands in his pockets. It's not even autumn yet, but the tips of his fingers get cold all too easily. "I'm hungry."

Baekhyun walks closer, snaking an arm around his shoulder to pull him close, their sides pressing against each other. Baekhyun's body is much warmer than the usual. Maybe it's the aftermath of fitting that suit or the thrill of getting married soon. Maybe that's just how Baekhyun really is; Jongdae should know better.

He fishes his phone from his pocket and texts Joonmyun, saying, wanna drop by my studio tonight? we can practice your sets better there. but don't bring your guitar. Baekhyun's blabbering about wanting to pick a lighter material for his suit but the tailor recommending against it, and Sunyoung asking him to pick up some stuff from Myeongdong, "Myeongdong, of all places! It's frickin' far from Gangnam and I'm too lazy to drive—" Jongdae tries to keep up, laughing at the important points of the story, and he feels an odd sort of warmth wrap around his texting hand when he sees Joonmyun's reply, even that annoying bunny sticker that he sends right after.

my guitar's part of me. it goes wherever i go :p
kidding, hyung! i'll be there. beam me up, scotty!
see you c:

The company building gets progressively busier as evening approaches. Six in the evening and there are people who have just come in, the vending machine stations populated with trainees of varying ages. Jongdae and Taeyeon pass by a couple of boys, a group of five, and Taeyeon whispers something about that kid with really long hair possibly being the face of the group. Jongdae nudges her with his elbow, and there's collective cooing a few feet behind them. People are still buying that old J.D.-Taeyeon dating rumor even if Taeyeon had already come forward with confirmation on her relationship with Jonghyun.

"I told you, noona, if you'd just given me a chance—" It's Taeyeon's turn to elbow him in his side, and Jongdae narrowly avoids the impact, nearly losing balance if not for the wall somehow preventing the fall. "I'm just saying, I could have been the one!"

Taeyeon pays no attention to him, steps steady and measured as they walk down the hall. "You grabbing dinner with us? Jonghyunnie and I are checking out some fancy place in Hongdae. He says it's his favorite or something." Taeyeon makes that small, grumbling noise at the back of her throat that Jongdae registers as her Jonghyun's really, really adorable sometimes, and I hate it spiel. "If it's his favorite, then why don't I know about it?"

"He changes favorites on a daily basis, Taeng. One time, he called me his favorite friend!" They slip into the elevator, and a KKT notification comes in just before the door closes. "Lasted for about a few minutes. Best moment of my life."

"I thought that was when Kyungsoo was taken in by SM."

Jongdae snorts. "Kyungsoo."

Taeyeon looks up at him, a silly grin on her lips as she sticks one finger in his side, tickling him. He puts up a fight for the first few seconds until Taeyeon attacks a sore spot, and a cackle escapes his lips, too shrill that it matches the pitch of the ding of the elevator. Taeyeon stomps on one of Jongdae's feet in tandem with the door opening, and they're giggling when they alight the elevator, the protruding bone of their wrists bumping. Jongdae feels a sharp line of electricity shoot up his arm.

"Oh, and noona— I'll have to pass on that invitation." He sniffles, then blinks away the beads of tears that have accumulated at the corners of his eyes. "I have something tonight."

Taeyeon stops in her tracks, an eyebrow raised at him, lips pursed. She's most beautiful like this, he thinks, when she means to tease but only ends up sending men's hearts aflutter. Jongdae has always found her attractive, and maybe he'd had a crush on her before when they were still young and Jonghyun hadn't built a fence around Taeyeon yet. "You're going out with someone?" she asks, each syllable drawn out, and she punctuates it with the small upward curve of the lip.

"Not… going out. More like—" Jongdae scratches the back of neck, worrying his bottom lip as he does so. "I just have something to do tonight. Work, if you can call it like that."

The smile on Taeyeon's lips relaxes into something more familiar, and she's back on her feet, footsteps steady as they inch nearer to the entrance. "You're always working, even on your break. I'd have spent the time off traveling or something—"

"Hyung?"

Jongdae takes a deep breath, lips parted just slightly as he holds it, right there where his chest feels full and it might burst at any time. The tips of his fingers are cold. The makings of summer blow from the outside, seeping through the slightly ajar doors of the company, and for the first time in a while Jongdae's thankful that the doors at the entrance are frosted. Joonmyun's in a blue polo this time, rolled up until just under his elbows, and his jeans are dark and possibly too tight — he looks even smaller and maybe too thin, and maybe the wind outside might topple Joonmyun over anytime, so Jongdae tugs Joonmyun closer, grabbing him by the wrist, greeting him with a smile that shows just the edges of his teeth.

"Hey."

Joonmyun's eyes flit to Taeyeon, and they widen as she smiles at him, soft and tender. "Kim Taeyeon-ssi," he says, bowing down all the way, and Taeyeon just chuckles at the greeting, telling him to please, please get up now.

"Suho, right? The guy from…" She snaps her fingers, eyebrows furrowed as she turns to Jongdae. "Blue Moon? When Boa-unnie thought it was a good idea to get ass-drunk on a Sunday evening?"

The corners of Joonmyun's lips relax, and Jongdae briefly registers that Joonmyun's lips are nice, not too full. The curl at the corners, too, is really nice. "Yup, that kid," Jongdae confirms, pulling Joonmyun much closer, one arm around Joonmyun's shoulder. "Dibs, noona. I called dibs. I just have to make it clear."

Taeyeon raises her hands in defense, but Jongdae sees a peculiar smile on her lips, one he doesn't see often. He can't decipher this yet, not even with all those years of working alongside each other — most of Taeyeon's special smiles are directed at Jonghyun, after all. "Relax, I'm not taking him away from you." She jabs at his arm lightly, then turns to Joonmyun with a smug grin. "I'll make sure to look out for you, Suho-ssi." She adds a wink at the end, and she turns to the right, straight to the stairs leading down to the basement parking.

"Have you been waiting for a while already?" Jongdae asks, then looks over his shoulder to smile at the security. He leads Joonmyun, who still hasn't said a word from when he'd seen Taeyeon, to the elevator, and presses the button for the fifth floor before the doors close in on them.

"I've been here, once," Joonmyun says now, voice barely above a whisper. He's assessing the floor, the number pad of the elevator, Jongdae's reflection on the door. Jongdae tears his eyes from Joonmyun's reflection on the cool metal. "Years ago, when I still had the leisure of hoping I could actually make it big."

It's the first time that he's seen Joonmyun in white light, right beside him without the comfort of darkness or dim lights illuminating his features. Here, where he's neither washed out nor swallowed by an expanse of black, Joonmyun looks like an average young adult hoping to get recruited by SM. Jongdae knows this feeling, one where everything closes in on you and everything looks so big, and you feel so small, and you just want to curl up in a corner and count to ten until your name is called and you're asked to do whatever you can possibly do to be accepted into SM's rigorous training program.

"There's still time," Jongdae finally says, He draws his shoulders back. The elevators here are excruciatingly slow. "You're not yet thirty. And besides, you can actually sing!" There's a shrill ding again, and Jongdae finds himself smiling as he steps outside, one foot at the doorstep to keep the elevator doors from closing. "The height leaves much to be desired, though."

Joonmyun laughs a little, lightly and easy, and Jongdae can see Joonmyun's shoulders lifting. He's got his chin up now, and he's looking around, eyes wide and lips stretched in a smile. His features are sharper, but his voice remains soft and steady; Jongdae likes that. Joonmyun isn't normally this silent, not when there's alcohol to keep the conversation going, but the silence isn't so daunting. "I don't understand what's interesting about white walls," Jongdae teases, and Joonmyun immediately turns to him, an eyebrow raised. "The studio's over there."

It's when they get inside the studio that Joonmyun actually coos, shoulders slumping as he scans the room and his eyes land on the equalizer. "This is where the magic happens, huh?" Joonmyun traces the edge of the table, then leans closer to the levers and knobs of the equalizer. He reaches out for a while but quickly retracts his hand. Jongdae feels like he's thirty-five again, back when he'd just lost to Jonghyun in season one and he'd given Kyungsoo a tour around the building, and Kyungsoo had begged that they stay here in studio nine where it's the coziest. They'd shared an entire pizza then, and he'd brushed the crumbs that caught on Kyungsoo's bottom lip with his thumb. Kyungsoo had leaned into the touch, then shoved the crust between Jongdae's lips.

"This is my Hogwarts, I guess." Jongdae stretches his arms out, then locks them behind his back before turning back to Joonmyun. "You up for pizza? I'll call delivery."

Joonmyun nods and makes himself comfortable, sitting on the table.

The first half of the session sees Joonmyun putting up against Jongdae's protests of not having Joonmyun sing a +44 song. "I wouldn't have brought it up if I hadn't tried it first, Joonmyun eyes says, waving his phone in front of Jongdae, then pulls up a recording. There's nothing but static at first, then clearing of the throat, and there's a faint squeak until the sound gets fuller and clearer — Joonmyun must have switched rooms.

"Jongdae-hyung! So, uh, I tried recording the song—"

"No, this isn't—" Joonmyun scans his files, thumbs moving quickly as he navigates through his phone. Jongdae leans closer, resting his chin on Joonmyun's shoulder, and Joonmyun stops scrolling, a soft ah escaping his lips. "I think I've found it. Here."

"It's just the cleaned up version of the previous recording," Jongdae retorts. Joonmyun shifts a little, and the tip of Jongdae's nose bumps into the back of Joonmyun's ear. He pulls away too abruptly. "You could've kept playing the other one."

"I trimmed it for a reason, okay." Joonmyun hits the play button and makes room for his phone just between them. Jongdae takes this as his cue to maintain a good distance between them, moving a few inches away. "Just listen."

Joonmyun's not-so-quiet defiance finds an extension in his recording, his voice finding a snug fit in the melody he's created with his guitar. The beat's a bit fast for his tone, Jongdae thinks, and sometimes Joonmyun stumbles over his words, but there's potential in this number, like if Jongdae works his magic on it and slows it down by one count or takes it down half an octave, it will suit Joonmyun's tone perfectly. "Not bad," he says, though, if only to draw out an interesting reaction from Joonmyun, and Joonmyun delivers — he turns to Jongdae, sneering, eyes sharp and bright and brimming with something Jongdae can't seem to place.

Joonmyun leans in, just a bit closer, a question — are you challenging me? in his eyes. If Jongdae stretches out his palm between their faces, then it won't seem as if there's barely any breathing space between them. "I'll follow up on our order," he mumbles, excusing himself to make a call, slipping from the room as fast as he can.

He hopes Joonmyun won't realize that Jongdae has left his phone inside the room, somewhere behind his laptop. He heads straight to the restroom, pace so quick that he almost bumps into the pizza delivery guy and gets the food all over his shirt.

It's almost midnight when they finish. Jongdae has gotten crumbs all over the table, and it's a good thing that Joonmyun's shielding the equalizer from the wrath of stuffed crust pizza else Jongdae would have probably gotten some oil or bread or even the cheese on it. His control over his limbs is only as good as his skill in playing Dragon Quest, which isn't that much. He loses patience halfway through breeding monsters, in the same manner that he stops taking tiny bites of the pizza and starts going for big bites, instead.

"You're gross, hyung," Joonmyun says, putting more emphasis on the last word like it actually makes a difference.

Jongdae looks over his shoulder, laughing a little, until he feels the weight of his laptop in his hands. He slips it inside its case and wears the strap over his shoulder, looking around for one last time before stepping closer to the door.

"I'm gonna miss this place," Joonmyun whispers. His fingers are tracing the edge of the table again and, this time, he lets his hand wander to the knobs of the equalizer. "I do everything on Audition at home and it's really great, but working in a studio is…"

"Something—"

Joonmyun furrows his eyebrows, bottom lip jutted out as he tilts his head. "Hyung?"

Jongdae blinks a few times until the crumbs that have caught on the corners of Joonmyun's lips come to focus. He reaches out, tentatively at first, and from where he is he can see the wind burn all around Joonmyun's mouth. Joonmyun's lips are too red, and his lower lip's more chappy that the upper lip, a thin red marking near the corner of his mouth. Jongdae brushes his thumb on a corner, and then another, the motions slow and measured so as to not make Joonmyun wince of flinch or retaliate. The tip of the thumb grazes Kyungsoo's lips lightly, and it takes every inch of Jongdae not to lean in and do something about it.

"There. Better," Jongdae says when he steps back, one hand on Joonmyun's shoulder, the other balled into a fist, clutching on his shirt. His heart beat's racing and he can still feel the burn of Joonmyun's lips on his skin, the roughness of the small crumbs latching onto his thumb, can still see the sharp look of surprise in Joonmyun's eyes. "I'm sorry, there's was something on your—" He gestures at Joonmyun's mouth. "There. Right there."

Joonmyun darts his tongue out, licking his bottom lip as he maintains eye contact with Jongdae. His lips remain parted, like he's supposed to say something but all that comes out is a faint thanks, even after Joonmyun clears his throat. "Thanks, hyung," he tries again, and Jongdae saves him the trouble of pulling away — Jongdae turns on his heel and walks forward until his belly bumps into the knob.

With the soft click of the door to studio nine, Jongdae leaves his thoughts inside where he can't hear them. Tonight, he focuses on Joonmyun's steady, even breathing, Joonmyun's curious yet teasing gaze, Joonmyun's lips, Joonmyun's tongue darting out to wet them.

Joonmyun's performance from too many nights back, the one on Blue Moon, still ringing in his ears.

There's a dull ache in Jongdae's hands when he rouses from his sleep. His phone blinks an annoying green light at the corner, beeping in rapid succession — two messages, then three different files, all in one chat thread. three different keys c:, reads the last message, and Jongdae loads the first clip, the guitar riff stirring his senses completely and making him get up from his bed.

Jongdae spends a good three minutes pouring cereal and milk into his bowl, pausing every so often to draw his phone closer to his ear to listen for any sharps and flats; his hearing isn't exactly the most reliable at such an early hour. The whole of the second track is spent fixing the bed, and by the time the song hits the last chorus, Jongdae finds himself gripping one of the pillows tight.

The third track, he listens to without any distractions, sitting down on the floor, eyes closed.

the second one's the best. add a second voice and you're all set c: Jongdae replies after a while, getting up from the floor. It's Joonmyun's voice that he listens to throughout the day — in his car, in the studio, even on the way home, all the way to the evening, until he heads to bed and lies on his back. The ache in his hands doesn't let on, and he figures he can live with it if he sleeps now while Joonmyun's voice plays in his head.

He rubs his thumb against his index finger. Joonmyun's lips are softer.

Joonmyun develops the habit of sending him voice recordings through KKT at obscene hours of the day. Jongdae almost winces when he hears the 3 a.m. fatigue in Joonmyun's voice — his tone's at least an octave and a half lower, and he's stumbling over his words more than the usual, but he hits the high notes as good as always, his voice sweet and smooth as he carries out the tune for an extended time. It's when he sings John Legend's All of Me that he discovers the sweet spot of his low notes, and the recording catches that moment of surprise where Joonmyun gasps and giggles for a good ten seconds before resuming his singing, singing all the way up to the end.

"I'm having mixed emotions about you singing with piano as your accompaniment, though," Jongdae comments after one of Joonmyun's gigs at Finger. The bouncers know Jongdae by face now, and at one point the of the staff had even reserved the table closest to the stage for him, knowing that Jongdae's there for Joonmyun's performance. "You sound good, but if the piano overwhelms your voice then you'll have to stick to your guitar."

"It's not the type of song you can just translate to guitar chords, hyung," Joonmyun protests. His bangs are now pushed to the side, and some of it falls on Joonmyun's eyes. He's quick to brush them off even before Jongdae can reach over. "It's worth a shot."

"It's not the same as when you were playing in Bbang anymore, Joonmyun."

"You've heard me playing in Bbang?"

Joonmyun's shoulders tremble, and Jongdae holds his breath at the response. The green light coming from below does very little to soften the creases on Joonmyun's forehead when he furrows his eyebrows, and casts his a pale glow. Jongdae thinks of when he'd spent hours with Joonmyun in the studio, the white light accentuating each and every single detail of Joonmyun's face — the smooth curve of his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the slope of the bridge of his nose, his soft lips— "You were singing Vienna Teng songs." Jongdae scratches the back of his neck. "I was with Jonghyun and a few more people then. It was—"

"A long time ago," is all that Joonmyun says. He drums his fingers on the table, then takes a sip of his drink. Jongdae will never find the charm in drinking vodka neat. "A very long time ago."

With only a month left until Baekhyun's wedding, Jongdae finds himself staying longer hours in the studio, studying songs and recreating them, adding a few more beats, or even stripping them down to the very bare minimum, then sending them off to Joonmyun to see how Joonmyun would interpret the song. Taeyeon drags him out on a few occasions, all at Jonghyun's request, and Boa sends texts from time to time, telling him to please stay away from my dance studio, but, i miss you, though. i can't find a drinking buddy quite like you.

please send jaejoongie-hyung my regards. it's him i really miss, Jongdae replies, and Boa bombards the chat window with a plethora of stickers. Jongdae expends a third of his collection, going for a no fair, noona. i don't even buy stickers for this thing!!! once he struggles to find a sticker that can counter Boa's previous attack, and Boa simply sends him an image of a white character with a big, round head, flashing a v-sign at him.

fuck u ⋟ he says as a comeback, then exits from the chat log. A message from Joonmyun comes up, one that isn't a voice recording, and he types a quick reply before immersing himself in work again, humming the tune of a song Joonmyun has sent him a few days back.

Jongdae's coaching duties come full circle when he drives all the way to Apgeujong to pick out a good enough outfit for Joonmyun.

Joonmyun's performing at Eden tonight, and its patrons are much more fashion-conscious than that of ZZYZX's. Joonmyun had initially planned on going with his usual attire and just dressing it up with a different blazer, maybe, but Jongdae had insisted on something different. "This is Eden you're talking about. The people there are judgmental as fuck. I want you to look your best when you face that crowd."

"Wow. Thanks, hyung. That makes me feel a lot less nervous," Joonmyun grumbles, but it sounds more like he's about to throw up instead of being on the verge of pushing Jongdae off a cliff. There's the sound of city traffic in the background — Joonmyun's probably on his way home from work, as well. He makes a mental note to ask Joonmyun what he does on his spare time, when he isn't recording things and sending Jongdae voice clips. "I'm sorry for having to drag you all the way to Apgeu just for this."

"Joonmyunnie—" A car turning left honks hard at him, and he steps on the brake too hard, then sticks his middle finger up. It's a shame he can't pull his window down, but then the media will probably have a field day if he ever gets caught on camera doing something unbecoming of an idol. Jonghyun had done something worse, though, wiggling his ass in front of a car that almost ran him over; talk of the town for the next few weeks, and Taeyeon's wallpaper on her phone for nearly half a year. "Look. You have to stop apologizing for everything. It's fine." Twenty seconds more until he gets a move on. "Thanks for dinner, by the way. Chinese would be great!"

Joonmyun laughs a little, and Jongdae finds himself smiling when he hears less of nervousness and more of relief in Joonmyun's voice. "Thanks, hyung. You're the best."

"But of course!" Jongdae speeds past another traffic light, narrowly avoiding the orange light. "Relax, kid. I've got you."

Jongdae arrives right on time, and it takes him a good five minutes to navigate his way to Joonmyun's flat. "I can smell the Chinese food. The scent led me here," is what Jongdae says as a greeting, and Joonmyun's shoulders drop a little, arms enveloping him in a hug.

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you," Joonmyun mumbles. He moves closer, face now buried in the crook of Jongdae's neck, and suddenly Jongdae's too aware of Joonmyun's breath hot on his skin, Joonmyun's lips brushing against his neck lightly.

"I think I do now," Jongdae replies, winking at Joonmyun when he pulls away.

They eat in silence, Joonmyun humming in between bites of his food and Jongdae tapping his foot to whatever melody Joonmyun comes up with. Joonmyun makes a tower of the food cartons once they're done, putting one on top of the other, and Jongdae accosts him just as Joonmyun tries to rearrange them, trying to look for a better fit.

"Just put them in the middle, right here—" Jongdae clasps his hands over Joonmyun's smaller ones, guiding him as he drags the cartons to the middle of the table. "And then you can take them out later!" Joonmyun makes a small sound of protest, or an unintelligible gurgle at the back of his throat, like he doesn't know what to feel about being trapped with Jongdae's arms on either side of him, and Jongdae pulls away even before Joonmyun can elbow him in his side. "Let's get you dressed?"

Joonmyun looks up at him with a small smile. His cheeks look warm and flush, and from where Jongdae is Joonmyun looks so much younger than he should be, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes drawing all the attention to them and away from his eye bags. "Yeah, let's," Joonmyun replies, then wraps a hand around Jongdae's wrist, dragging him to his room.

Jongdae picks out a pair of black leather pants, leather shoes, and a black polo for Joonmyun, and he spends the next few minutes fussing over the length of Joonmyun's pants. He folds the material carefully, and Joonmyun laughs a little when Jongdae's knuckles brush against his ankle. He can feel Joonmyun's fingers in his hair, between the strands, tugging hard when he attempts to fold the other side to make the length of the pants even.

"You're paying for this," Jongdae says when he gets up, pointing at his mussed up hair. "And nope, I won't let you do that—"

Joonmyun furrows his eyebrows, and Jongdae takes a step closer, tugging at Joonmyun's wrist until Joonmyun lets his hand fall to his side. He holds down the first button with his thumb, then rests his free hand on Joonmyun's shoulder as he pushes it. It comes off without much effort, so Jongdae repeats it for the second, dragging his other hand to the placket of the polo, tugging on the other side so that the button releases its hold on the hole much easier. He fumbles with the edges of the placket, pulling them farther apart and out, and it's only when he takes a step back that he realizes Joonmyun is staring at him, and that he's tracing lines, slow and languid, along Joonmyun's collarbones.

"I think—" Joonmyun's voice drifts off, and he looks down at Jongdae's hands before looking back up to meet him in the eye. "I could do away with another."

Jongdae nods, then slides his hands down to the third button, pushing with his thumb yet again, and he watches it come off from its hold, gently pulling at the placket again to reveal an expanse of flesh. He can hear Joonmyun's breath hitching, can feel the heat slowly creeping up Joonmyun's chest, can feel his throat tightening as he tugs even harder. He smoothes out the edges of the placket, fingers brushing lightly on Joonmyun's exposed skin, and when he looks up he catches Joonmyun's licking his lips.

"We should—" Joonmyun darts his tongue out again, and Jongdae can feel his hands trembling against Joonmyun's skin. He lets his them fall to his sides and he clears his throat as he continues, "We should get going."

"Do I… look good?"

Too good, Jongdae almost says. "Mhmm," he replies, instead, then reaches over one more time, running his hands through Joonmyun's hair. "One last thing—"

He combs Joonmyun's hair to the side, getting rid of the middle part, and brushes the bangs that cover Joonmyun's eyes away from his face, giving up only when the bangs fall over Joonmyun's eyes for a third time. He tucks Joonmyun's hair behind the ears, fingers lingering on the back of it, where jaw meets neck, and he slides his hand all the way down, nails running a line along Joonmyun's neck until his hand finally settles on Joonmyun's shoulder. "There. All set," he whispers, eyes lingering in the dip of Joonmyun's upper lip.

"You really hate the middle part, don't you?" Joonmyun teases, voice cracking somewhere in the middle. Jongdae feels his throat relax, all the knots in his stomach untangling, and he takes a step back to admire his work for one last time.

"A lot," he says, smiling as he ends. Joonmyun chuckles, his voice reaching that sweet high note, and Jongdae feels something drop at the pit of his stomach, like a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode.

Joonmyun reaches out, wraps his hand around Jongdae's wrist again, and tugs him closer, their bodies pressing against each other briefly before Joonmyun drags Jongdae out of the room.

Three. Two. One.

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