exo: dare you to move (1/5)

[rustle]

dare you to move
— Xiumin/Kyungsoo, implied Xiumin/Suho, and some others. NC-17. 90445 words.
— Minseok waltzes away from the past and falls to his knees on a misstep. Kyungsoo helps him get up and introduces him to a funkier beat. (Warnings: lots of mentions of minor character death, bouts of self-destructive behavior, lots of angst)
— Written for kyungsooperior. Notes and thank you's at the end of the fic! :D
— Master post @ Livejournal. Also available on AO3.

Minseok's idea of an exhibit isn't anything like this – naked people on a canvas, dancing on it with their bodies covered in paint. Joonmyun had brought him to a performance art show before, sure, and he's seen more of those during his childhood, but on all those occasions the artists were wearing clothes. And the entire exhibit venue wasn't a canvas. That doesn't deter Joonmyun from giggling and sighing at every twist and turn of the torso, though, or slapping Minseok on the arm when the music reaches its peak. And that – Joonmyun's enthusiasm – is the very thing that keeps Minseok from furrowing his eyebrows and standing from his seat in a fit of confusion. Possibly the only reason, as well. "The painting was great, though," Minseok admits after performance. He puts on his best smile when Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow at him. "I didn't know you can achieve those kinds of strokes with your feet." "They used their hands, too," Joonmyun corrects, then nudges Minseok in his side. "Next time, stop focusing on the dance so much and focus on the art." I'm trying, Minseok wants to say. It's not easy trying to get rid of a second skin, a second pair of eyes, like an itch that keeps coming back. But he doesn't. Instead, he rolls his eyes and says, "You like Greek food, right?" Joonmyun holds his gaze for a moment, then grins. "Sounds good to me." ☄ Minseok started attending performance art shows when he was eight. Seoul still had those free performances back then, when the streets of Insadong weren't littered with stalls and tiny stores yet. Every Saturday, his parents would bring him and his sister to those events, sit them on their laps, and tell them the story that the dance was trying to relay. It was his parents' way of easing him into both art and dance, being performers, themselves. He didn't quite get the art part then because they looked messy and yucky and why is their skin green, umma?. He got the hang of it after a while, though, a couple of months into being exposed to these kinds of shows. His last few years in elementary, he spent participating in the school's dance events. During middle school, he dabbled in classical dance and got full marks for his P.E. class. So it wasn't so much just building hobbies and interests; it was also Minseok trying to find a way to do things better, get higher grades. Constantly beating his best record and make his parents proud. And he did. He was offered a scholarship in high school after their school's dance troupe won in an interstate competition. They didn't get first place, but their performance was 'weird' enough that it earned more than just a curious glance. After all, high school students don't usually get into skintone tights and dance as if they're painting on a canvas. It had been hard to make his clubmates understand it at first, the beauty in performance art, but after a few prods and showing them what he meant by artful expression through dance and paint, they finally got it. Nailed it, even. They could've given those hobbyist performers in Insadong a run for their money if they wanted to. The painting they came up with during the performance was displayed near the principal's office for months. The performance was the talk of the town for weeks. Minseok's body memorized the dance so well that it was the movement his body sang to, the rhythm he fell asleep to. This was it, he thought, this was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. Dance was a second skin to him – they were one. "Seriously, you're the only one who noticed the slip. They made it look like it was part of the routine!" Joonmyun says now, laughing behind his hand. He rolls his eyes, and Minseok only narrows his eyes in response. "We're not as… nitpicky with dance as you are." "'Anal' is an acceptable enough term. Captures the sentiment better, to be honest." "Hyung," Joonmyun begins, then continues after a sharp intake of breath. "Let it go. Just eat. I know you're starving. We can discuss the technicalities of the twist or whatever you call that thing they do with the turning." "It's a modified pirouette," Minseok corrects. He grins when Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow at him. "So, mister big-shot manager, until when will you be in Seoul?" Joonmyun scrunches his nose, and in an instant he loses that image of a perfect man – Kim Joonmyun with his slicked back hair, pressed suit, his shiny shoes, Kim Joonmyun with a smile so perfect that people should probably make a mold out of it. Minseok would, if Joonmyun didn't dismiss him everytime he broached the topic, but at the same time he wouldn't. There's a price Joonmyun has to pay everytime he acts any less perfect in public – a click of the shutter, a flash of light, Joonmyun looking disgruntled on social networking sites because apparently managers as handsome as he is are hard to come by. Couple that with EXO's popularity and Joonmyun rarely ever goes unnoticed anywhere he goes. They're lucky there aren't that many people who appreciate performance art, people like them. "I was trying to remember the schedule, but then I realized I still have to fix it," Joonmyun says after a while. "We start touring again in two weeks so I'll be free for a week." He worries his bottom lip, then, "Five days. Three. Sometimes I don't know if I should be glad my kids are famous." Minseok laughs a little, takes a piece of zucchini and swallows hard. "I heard their Japanese material, by the way. They all sound good and–" He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing all the more, but a sliver of laughter still escapes. "Did you really make Lu Han rap?" "Not my decision to make." "Please tell Baekhyun that he's crazy." Joonmyun motions to raise his phone to his ear then says, "Baek, your favorite hyung says you're crazy." "You're his favorite," Minseok amends. "Unless he's changed in the months I haven't seen him. Have you?" Joonmyun swallows around nothing in particular, the gentle bobbing in his throat visible in this light, and Joonmyun doesn't say anything. He holds the gaze, though, keeps Minseok pinned in place with guarded eyes that Minseok is supposed to easily get past by now. But it's been months. It's been months since they've really hung around each other. Joonmyun probably made new friends during the tour, people whose names Minseok won't ever be able to memorize. Minseok has dealt with new celebrities, too, helped them get back their peace of mind after a few yoga sessions. They both have separate lives now, really separate ones that have a very little chance to align. Joonmyun leans closer then whispers, "I've got a feeling. In my tummy. And I think I'm going to–" Minseok rolls his eyes. "Go, go, nurse your funny tummy or whatever. And come up with a new excuse next time!" It isn't until he's alone that the person at the table beside theirs calls his attention. Minseok turns to look to his side, then, eyes widening when he catches sight of the stranger. He looks vaguely familiar – big, curious eyes, bangs that almost cover half of them, a weird smile on the curl of the lip. "Sorry, couldn't help but overhear the conversation. But I agree with you – the dancing was pretty… half-assed." Minseok tries not to snort, but the bluntness of the statement gets to him, tickles his throat until he's cackling. "Say, what?" "There's no better way to say it," the stranger says. He isn't remorseful, not with the light upward tug at the corner of his lips, slowly revealing bright white teeth. Minseok squints a little, leans back, but at the same time he wants to lean in. Engage this person in a conversation because he's never heard anyone so bluntly diss on a performance art show. "Not really half-assed," Minseok says after a while. "Just not as heart-felt. Could've been better." The stranger scoffs. "You're nice." Minseok shrugs. "I try to be," he answers in reply. He doesn't say, not half as much as the person who cares enough about the performance to feel that it's 'half-assed'. "False alarm," comes a familiar voice, and Minseok sits up straight again, looks up at Joonmyun and wears his best smile. Joonmyun gives him a funny look, then glances at the person at the table beside theirs. The stranger is back to dissecting his food with great interest, like his dakos holds the answers to the secrets of the world, so Minseok lets it go. Doesn't strike up a conversation. Gives Joonmyun his full attention. If Joonmyun ever notices that Minseok's mind is elsewhere, he doesn't bring it up. Instead, Joonmyun orders a bottle of wine for them and pours Minseok a glass. Minseok clinks their glasses in appreciation and a muted 'thanks'. ☄ "Ah," Baekhyun says, then stretches his arms over his head. "I missed yoga." Minseok shakes his head and gives Baekhyun's ass a light tap before walking ahead. Breaks for EXO mean Joonmyun signing up the members for their activity of choice, aka something that will get their mental stability back to tip-top shape and help them ease back into a more peaceful way of life. Yixing has been taking Zumba classes every chance he gets. Chanyeol has been spending time in the company to record the songs that would've otherwise been stuck in his phone forever. Lu Han joins him from time to time, but for the most part he sticks with Yixing even if Zumba drains him more than it energizes him. Joonmyun's doing his manager thing but Baekhyun somehow managed to convince him to do yoga with him in the evening. So in essence, Jongdae's gym benefits from EXO taking a break. It makes Minseok much happier, too, since his boss is happy. It's a win-win situation. "You miss the ass that comes with it," Minseok whispers loud enough for Baekhyun to hear. Baekhyun gasps, but the look on his face makes him look more like he's going to burst into laughter anytime. Baekhyun's mouth never lies, after all. "You say that to your star student?" Minseok pulls Baekhyun's shoulders back before handing him a mug of hot ginger tea. "Posture, kid," he says, giving Baekhyun's back a light pat. "And that's why you're not my star student." "Cut me some slack, hyung. It's been, what, months since we last did this?" "You say that as if we both do the slouching thing." Minseok chuckles when Baekhyun aims a light jab at his arm. "Minus two stars for you. One more and I'm dumping you in a hot C session then flow yoga." "Flow isn't even that hard if you've been doing yoga properly," Yixing adds. He clasps a hand on Baekhyun's shoulder. Minseok motions to take a step back, but he keeps his surprise to himself. Yixing has a habit of appearing in places unannounced. It's nice to know some good things don't change. Baekhyun narrows his eyes at the two, then turns to jab Yixing in the arm. "You two. Hot C and flow yoga with me later. Tonight, we do yoga in hell!" Minseok shakes his head in a fit of laughter and takes the Gatorade Yixing offers him. The other reason Minseok likes having EXO around in the gym, other than the pay, is because the noise (more like every sound Baekhyun makes) helps him drown out the voices in his head. The first day the group worked out in the gym, Minseok stopped getting those weird voices talking about game strategies in his head. The second day, he'd flushed out his own silly idea of scheduling an appointment with Joonmyun that doesn't involve watching a performance with him. This is the third day, and there's one last voice he hasn't gotten rid of just yet. The dry, low chuckle of the stranger he encountered at the restaurant a few days ago still haunts him when silence begins to settle. It's not so much the voice that caught him off-guard, to be honest. It's the stranger's honesty, the careless words, and the way he slipped back into his own little world when Joonmyun got back to his seat that makes Minseok replay that moment in his head again and again, day in and day out. Like he knows what Minseok wants and that he actually wants the same thing, a connection so casual they can drop it at the first sign of intruders. Then maybe they can pick it back up when they bump into each other somewhere, sometime. If they ever bump into each other again. Yixing nudges him in his side. "Busy thinking?" Minseok turns to look Yixing in the eye, practiced smile intact. "A bit. Baekhyun makes it impossible to think." "Ah. See, this is what we have to deal with everyday…" Yixing shakes his head, slow and deliberate. Baekhyun has moved on from harping at them to deciding on a good meal to eat for lunch. "Baekhyun talking, Baekhyun singing, Baekhyun making all sorts of sounds–" "I don't have to know that?" Yixing gives him a solemn pat and a nod. "Right. Because you experienced all that in the past three days." Yixing takes a deep breath. "Hey hyung, there's a nice samgyupsal place in Insadong. Wanna check that out?" He glances at the wall clock, then looks around. His next yoga class isn't until 5 p.m.. There's enough time. ☄ Heading out for lunch smack at the beginning of autumn isn't the best idea. Skies are clear and the sun is up high, and heat during daytime isn't exactly the kindest. He'd insisted to drive for the two to make the travel more bearable, but Yixing still insists they take the more scenic route to Insadong. This means having to take public transport without drawing too much attention to them. It's easier during winter, what with the many layers of clothes they can put on, but Yixing refuses to put on anything over his threadbare shirt and jeans. And a light cardigan, but that doesn't make things better. Minseok feels like they're in some twisted edition of The Amazing Race except they're being hunted down by paparazzis and fans. Or even innocent bystanders who are thinking, oh hey, these two look familiar. Does EXO have a new manager now? "Joonmyun's gonna kill me when he finds out," Minseok mumbles. He doesn't doubt Joonmyun's ability to track where his kids are. The last time they snuck out, Joonmyun beat them to the location by ten minutes. So Minseok drags Baekhyun and Yixing to the least crowded bunk and reminds them not to get frisky. "Not that I'm saying anyone can actually like Baekhyun," Minseok adds. Baekhyun's eyes widen. Yixing draws a finger close to his lips and says, sssh. The rest of the trip dissolves into Baekhyun resorting to slaps on the arm instead of whining in the train, hyung, you are the worst! The trip is well worth the wait. Yixing orders four servings of samgyupsal and two servings of kimchi jjigae, talks their head off for the first half of their stay in the restaurant. Yixing is already enthusiastic about a lot of things, as he is; add months of being apart and a taste of 'home' after so long and he becomes something akin to a talkshow host. "This is nothing like what they have in Japan," Yixing says between bites, and Baekhyun holds two thumbs up as he swallows the lump in his throat. "This always brings me back to… pre-debut days? Remember when we'd eat by a food cart after practice?" "And we'd make Lu Han-hyung buy us more food because he will never be able to resist our charms." Baekhyun makes a flourish, drawling the last few syllables as he sways in his seat. He's grinning ear-to-ear, and Minseok can't tell if Baekhyun's still reminiscing about the late night snacks by the food cart or if he's enjoying this meal they're having now. "Good ol' times, huh?" Yixing snorts. "It's not as if we're any less overworked then than we are now–" "You've got sales targets now," Minseok reminds them. Baekhyun kicks him under the table. "I'm just saying!" Baekhyun locks his arms behind his back and leans against them. "Wish I could go back sometimes. Live a simpler life or something. Not always be on my toes and be this 'perfect guy' I have to be." Hardly, Minseok wants to say – Baekhyun's hardly forced to play the part of the role model, the perfect idol. That's Lu Han's job and, to an extent, Joonmyun's. Joonmyun has a good enough following that he may very well be the 'idol' of managers in different entertainment companies. As the band's frontliner, meanwhile, Baekhyun's job is to seduce people, lure them in and make sure they get stuck to their sticky music. Make them believe that all of their songs are for the people in the concert or within their two-kilometer radius. Baekhyun's voice makes that easy, doesn't allow people to escape or even think of looking over his shoulder. It's so sickeningly addictive. Minseok might have fallen in love with it years back. Joonmyun might still be in love with it. Just maybe. Also, hardly – life in the past isn't always that simple. Some have had it harder than the most. Baekhyun and Yixing just happened to have a good enough childhood that they'd give everything to go back to it. Minseok, however… He isn't sure yet. "So you're saying," Minseok begins, then swallows the piece of meat stuck in his throat. "That you'd give everything to go back to floating in space and not being sure if you'll even debut–" Baekhyun groans. "That's not what I meant" The conversation dissolves into hiccuped laughter, and Yixing introduces soju to the meal halfway through. Minseok hesitates, for a moment, but the smiles on Yixing and Baekhyun's faces are almost worth the trouble. So he takes a shot, and another, and another, until he recounts the many reasons why he'll regret this later, during his 5 p.m. yoga session, until he reminds himself that he's way past thirty and that he shouldn't be doing stupid things. "One more, hyung," Baekhyun singsongs, face dangerously close to Minseok's. His cheeks are pink and his nose is red. His breath stinks but his lips are probably sweet. Minseok doesn't lean in. He takes the shot and asks for three glasses of cold water. ☄ Baekhyun and Yixing's alcohol tolerance is so low that it's laughable. A few shots in and both of them are already giggly, but maybe it's just the fatigue at work. So Minseok takes the remaining shots, promptly remembers why he isn't so fond of drinking especially in broad daylight. Looking at himself in the mirror now, he can spot a few pimples. He'll regret these tomorrow, or even later; the rumbly stomach, even more. Three soft knocks on the door remind him of two things – one, that he's in a public restroom; and two, that he's got kids to take back to the gym waiting for him outside. Minseok splashes water on his face one last time and wipes his face clean before opening the door. He stumbles backward a little when he looks up. It's got to be the alcohol talking. "Oh, hi," says a familiar voice, and Minseok has to blink again because he might just be hearing things again. A voice in his head, like the one that's been plaguing him for days now. "Can I… use the restroom?" "I know you," Minseok says. He clears his throat, then, after seeing the way the other guy furrows his eyebrows. "We know each other. Performance art show last weekend. The dancers sucked." "Oh," says the guy again. Minseok feels his chest constrict, the corners of his mouth tug up, his fingers ball into a fist. He's not yet drunk. "I guess you're not too nice when you're drunk?" "Not drunk," Minseok argues. "Yeah, sure." The guy pulls him by the wrist, then makes him lean against the wall. "I'll bring you back to your table later. I just… have to pee." Pee guy does escort him back to his table once he's done with his thing in the restroom, helps him feel for his wallet and pay for the food, and somehow brings him and the other two back to Gangnam. Only two hours after, when Joonmyun shows up at the gym with his hands on his hips and a lips drawn into a straight, straight line, does Minseok realize that he never thanked the man for getting him back to Gangnam in one piece. Never thanked the man for making sure Baekhyun and Yixing were safe, too, and didn't even ask for anything in return. It wasn't until then that he realized he hadn't even gotten the guy's name for the second time around. They should stop meeting like this. It's not as if they'll ever meet again. ☄ "Your savior's pretty cute," Jongdae mentions after Minseok's 5 p.m. yoga class. "Has a cute little ass. Y'know, the type that you'd totally squeeze." Minseok means to kick Jongdae under the table, but his best effort only leaves the edge of his toes grazing Jongdae's ankle. It's better than expected, though – the last time he turned up inebriated at the gym, Jongdae had to look for a sub who could take over Minseok's classes. EXO was on break, too, that time, and while Minseok knows better than to allow himself a few instances of complete lack of control, the group and Joonmyun only get so many breaks, as well. So while he's supposed to have a choice, Baekhyun or Joonmyun (and Yixing, and Chanyeol, and Lu Han) always convince him that everytime he declines an invitation to drink outside, a poor little cat dies. The resolve is strong but the heart is weak. And Joonmyun knows exactly where and how to strike. He knows Minseok inside and out. "Did you?" Minseok asks after a while. Jongdae surveys him with a curious glance, then presses a cold bottle of Gatorade to his cheek. "I know self-control isn't your middle name." "You're right, because it's my first," Jongdae says, grinning. "But nah, I didn't. He seemed like the type who'd kill me if I so much as thought of touching him." Minseok cocks an eyebrow and tries to gather images of the man in his mind. The smile isn't threatening; not even the wry smile or the confident tilt of the head are. "It's just you." Jongdae shakes his head, then scoots closer when Minseok leans on his arm. "Yeah. Because apparently, I repel boys." Jongdae chuckles. "Juk for dinner?" Minseok passes on the offer and solicits Jongdae's help to get home, instead. People say that seaweed soup is the cure-all for a hangover, but years of drinking (and responsibly, at that) has taught him that the best way to counter another hangover is with a bottle of beer. Just a bottle, because any more than that will aggravate the headache. He convinces Jongdae that it's wise to leave him at a convenience store, and Jongdae sends him a flurry of texts every five minutes just to check where he is. The first five minutes they were apart, Jongdae asked how he was. The next five, Jongdae asked if he was puking, feeling queasy, you want me to take you home, hyung? Two things are undeniable about Jongdae – his ability to draw in a crowd and make everyone feel welcome, and his inability to not worry about every single thing. So Minseok tries hard not to slur his words or seethe whenever a sharp pain shoots up his temples while talking to Jongdae on the phone. "Yeah, I'm alive, just… looking for something," he mumbles into the receiver for the third time. He's been looking for that something for more than ten minutes already. He looks around, takes two bags of chips, then gets a bottle of cerveza. Dumps one pack of baby wipes, too, and a hand sanitizer. He ran out of those the other day. He grabs a pack of Mentos, too, because why the hell not? "Huh? I'm not drinking. I'm just buying food." "The convenience store only has chips and instant food," Jongdae mumbles. "You hate both." "I can live with chips." Minseok rummages through the shelf, spots a bag of jalapeno Cheetos at the back. "Especially if they're the spicy kind. Don't worry, I'll live." Jongdae rattles on about Minseok needing to get some rest and maybe taking the morning off tomorrow because people in their thirties need twelve hours to recover from drunkenness. Minseok doesn't even try to argue, simply states his case that he's fine and maybe he just needs to sleep. For five hours and not the entire morning, because Club Espresso serves the best morning coffee even if it's a good hour away from Gangnam. "And no, you don't have to– I can just meet you there if you want to–" Minseok presses his lips thinly together, but remembers to smile at the lady at the counter. He hands a couple of ten thousand won bills, then bows to her before taking his plastic bag. "Yes, I'll just meet you there. 9 a.m.. I'll drive. I won't be hungover." Minseok catches a snort, then, just over his shoulder. The quick pull at the corners of his mouth is difficult to fight. He waits for the man to finish paying for his purchases – a couple of cans of beer, tofu chips, three pieces of banana, and a tube of Berocca – before striking a conversation or at least trying to explain himself. It's silly, he doesn't even owe this man an explanation, and if anything he's the one being owed to. A name would suffice; his phone number scribbled on a piece of paper, even better. But it still feels weird, running into the same guy twice in the same day, thrice in the same week. "Glad to see you're still in one piece," says the man once he's done. He eyes the bag of Cheetos in Minseok's bag, then continues, "I was supposed to get that, but you need it more than I do." "I'm not drunk." "Not anymore." The man chuckles. His big eyes look sullen, or maybe that's just the pull of the dark circles talking. In the poor lighting of the convenience store, out here where Minseok can actually look at the man, he looks much… older. Overworked by years, or maybe experience. The first time he saw him at the restaurant, he was wearing glasses and they barely faced each other for more than five minutes. Five minutes isn't enough to full acquaint oneself with a stranger. Minseok hasn't even seen the way the man moves yet, but he has his laughter memorized at the very back of his mind. He hears it again, as the man stares at him with big, discerning eyes. His lips quirk up. He smiles like a fucking teenager, playful yet tentative, corners tugging up and down, giving up and giving in in equal parts. "Thank you for taking me and my friends back to the gym," Minseok finally says. "And I'm sorry for the inconvenience. You didn't have to." "I didn't exactly have a choice. You were slumped against the door when I was trying to get out." The man snorts, lighter this time, and he rubs the tip of his nose. Minseok's eyes are drawn to his lips again – the man keeps worrying them, nipping at the skin, like if he stopped he'd lose the feeling in his mouth. "It's okay. And you have… famous friends. Should've recognized the guy you were with in the restaurant." Minseok exhales, finds it in his heart to laugh a little. "I guess he really does have fans." He extends his hand, then, and flashes his best smile. "Kim Minseok. Nice to meet you." The man stares at him with a curious gaze, the furrow of his eyebrows light, questioning. He looks at Minseok's outstretched hand, and Minseok tries not to shake. He's good at holding poses, controlling muscles, keeping himself in check, so runs that thought in his mind, again and again until he feels the tips of his fingers tingle. It's the foundation of his work – that, and proper breathing. Minseok tries to breathe, too, as he waits, throat constricting in anticipation. "Do Kyungsoo," the man says. He reaches out, meets Minseok's hand halfway. The pads of his fingers are cold. Minseok tries not to chuckle. "Nice to finally know your name." Minseok gives Kyungsoo's hand a light squeeze then pulls away, but Kyungsoo stays there a little longer. His fingers have become warm again, the press of their palms hot, a bit sticky. Out here in busy Apgeujong, at the door of a convenience store, Minseok takes a leap of faith and doesn't move, doesn't do anything but keep his hand in the tiny fit of Kyungsoo's own. He doesn't, until Kyungsoo pulls away and stuffs one hand in his pocket, fumbles with his plastic bag with the other. "You live nearby?" Minseok asks. Kyungsoo looks up, then shakes his head. "Why are you here, then?" "Figured I'd go around for a walk after dropping you and your friends off at the gym." Because it's normal to take a stroll down the streets of Gangnam with the budding winds of autumn blowing, of course. Minseok doesn't question the logic, simply nods and smiles when Kyungsoo starts to walk, small steps matching that of Minseok's. The spell breaks when they turn around the block, Minseok heading to his car and Kyungsoo to the opposite direction. "You're sober enough to drive?" "We've just met," Minseok replies. "You don't know what I'm capable of even when I'm drunk." One half-truth, and then a real one – Minseok can even drive a drunk with alcohol in his system. "Suit yourself," Kyungsoo says. "Stay alive, Kim Minseok." Minseok ducks in his car, but sticks his head out as he gives Kyungsoo a wave. "And you, too!" Kyungsoo stays rooted in his spot as Minseok starts the engine. Minseok looks out the window, at the street, at Kyungsoo. He takes a deep breath. There's no point in letting Kyungsoo in his car for a lift when Kyungsoo doesn't even live in the area, or when half of Kyungsoo's body is saying that he should go and the other half is still thinking if he should stay. It's there in the twist of his torso, in the quirk of his lips, in the way Kyungsoo keeps his eyes on Minseok's steering wheel but only just. Doesn't take a step closer to ask he could hitch a ride. They've just met. He barely knows anything about Kyungsoo other than he has a knack for showing up in places that trap Minseok in sticky situations. So he drives away, doesn't look back. If he ever thinks of turning around to ask Kyungsoo to ride with him, he doesn't. Instead, he turns up the radio and lets Vonda Shepard sing until he gets home. ☄ EXO hole themselves in the company building the week after. The sudden silence hits Minseok again, makes the glaring hole in his schedule more obvious when Jongdae says, from behind the counter, "You're bored." Minseok doesn't look over his shoulder to address Jongdae, but he does raise a fist. Jongdae makes this weird crooning sound, and then there's the sound of the blender drowning his humming. "It's not bad to be bored. It's just bad to sulk and be bored because your kids are gone and The One got away again." Jongdae hands him a smoothie and he offers a wry smile in response. "I'm not sulking. Just… trying to think of something to do." He takes a sip of his drink, and then another, and the next time he does brain freeze hits him twice as harder. "TRAX is on a tour so there goes my basketball sessions. Infinite's got abs already and they just finished doing a summer photoshoot somewhere so they'll probably be getting back on tour–" "They did the shoot in Saipan," Jongdae supplies. He snatches the glass from Minseok then whispers, thanks, hyung. "Great work on that, by the way. Myungsoo looks healthier now. He looks alive." "Fell in love with yoga, that kid and Howon." Minseok chuckles. He can still recall those months when Myungsoo and Howon would show up at the studio an hour before the yoga class started. They'd be warming up already, helping each other stretch. Howon would help Myungsoo with trying to recall the dance in their Zumba session the night before. Myungsoo would help Howon calm down, forget dancing for a while, focus on the morning session, hyung. Focus. But it's hard. Dancing is not a switch you can just turn on and off. It's another life form living inside you, a tiny vessel in your chest that tells your muscles how to move and how to react to movement. And once the gears get grinding, there's no turning back. It's an endless journey from there, and the only way to go is to push oneself harder– "They liked Zumba, too, even if Sehun's a lameass teacher." Good thing Sehun isn't around to beat Jongdae up. Too bad he isn't, because Minseok won't be able to see his silly expressions and his failed attempt at socking Jongdae in the gut. "Wanna give that a shot? Teach dance or something?" Minseok takes a deep breath, exhales loudly. "We've talked about this." "It was worth a shot," Jongdae answers, nudging him in his side. There's a small smile on Jongdae's lips. Minseok hasn't worked here for years to not know what that means. What it means, in essence, is that Minseok should head out lest Jongdae give him another speech on the perks of getting back to dancing. It's in your blood. So why try to get rid of it? he remembers Jongdae saying back then, when they were still in high school. Even if Jongdae was two years his junior, he spoke like someone older, wiser. More courageous, less uncertain of what he wanted to pursue in life. He was the one who took up ballet and then did jazz and street dance on the side. He wasn't the most coordinated of people, but he was so passionate about dancing that most can look past that shortcoming. Sure, Jongdae falls on his ass from time to time – every dancer experiences that – but after that, after laughing, he'll get back on his feel and dance his heart out. Drag Minseok into his mess and coax some moves out of Minseok until he couldn't anymore. "You know what happened, Dae," Minseok mumbles now, then pushes himself off his chair. "It's not easy to just forget it." "It's been years, hyung." "It's not easy." "Nothing good ever comes out of 'easy'," Jongdae says, gaze focused on Minseok and nothing, nobody else. A thick blanket of silence wraps around them, grips at Minseok's throat so tight that his chest heaves. "And trust me, hyung, I know it hasn't been easy for you. Driving your own car was step one for you, but you've been stuck there for years." Jongdae cocks his head, eyebrows furrowing and lips tugging down in accord. It doesn't suit him at all. It makes Jongdae look like a mime with sad, sad eyes and lips. "Don't you think it's time to move on to step two?" Minseok holds Jongdae's gaze for a second, then looks to his side. "There is no step two. There's no running away from this." "You're not running away. You won't," Jongdae interrupts. "But there's no harm in, y'know, taking one step forward. Just a little booty shake, hyung. C'mon, you can do that right?" Minseok chuckles, then, lets out the laugh that has been tickling his throat for the past minute. He gives his hips a shake, and Jongdae cackles in surprise. In a moment of surrender, Minseok lets himself be dragged to the dance room and sways just a little, giving in to the rhythm of Jongdae's body. ☄ COEX is a good fifteen minute walk from the gym. Joonmyun insists to take the longer route, preferring to pass by dark alleys than the well-lit ones. Minseok keeps his companion close – if there's anything that years of being friends with Joonmyun has taught him, it's that Joonmyun, for all of his wit, gets lost easily. So he hooks arm arm around Joonmyun's own and whispers, "For your safety," when Joonmyun grunts. "I'm not a kid." "Yes. But you're bad with directions. Also, finding your way back." Minseok pulls Joonmyun to the left when they reach a corner, and then he lets go. The city lights are bright around them again. Joonmyun straightens up, fumbles with the hem of his shirt. "Jongdae's asking if you're free this weekend. For dinner. It's his–" "–birthday. Shit." Joonmyun groans. "On a scale of asshat to ten, ten being not-really-bad-but-could-do-better, how terrible a friend am I?" Minseok runs a hand down Joonmyun's spine. He doesn't miss the light shiver of Joonmyun's body, or the way Joonmyun tenses at the first touch. It's quick, though, the way Joonmyun eases himself into the situation, activates one of those manager skills he's gotten from all those years taking care of EXO. His body gives a tiny shake and then he's standing straight again, chin up. "Really bad. But don't feel too bad about it. Jongdae's an asshole, too." "No, you don't get it. There's a difference between asshat and asshole–" "And the difference is you," Minseok finishes. He ruffles Joonmyun's hair. Joonmyun looks around for an audience first before scooting closer, leaning in just a little. They're almost shoulder-to-shoulder now. "Where's the exhibit again?" Joonmyun only sneaks a glance before saying, "Art Hall. They've got food. We can eat out after the opening, if ever." The exhibit turns out to be a collaboration between two artists and a brand. Joonmyun's friends with one of the exhibitors, and Minseok doesn't even ask how Joonmyun knows this friend of his. The attendance isn't completely altruistic – Joonmyun's here to make friends, drop the casual word about EXO's upcoming single, maybe get someone to create a great cover for them. He might find what he's looking for, and whoever he gets will get a great deal out of this. It will look great on the artist's portfolio – album jacket design for EXO's single Wolf. It will probably look ten times better than those polarized images they used in the previous covers. That's the great thing about physical albums – Minseok only ever has to look at the cover once, and that's when he's extracting the tracks to his iTunes. After that, he can delete the album art on the program, forget the ugly cover ever existed. If he's feeling anal about his library's organization then he'll just have to live with the ugly art. If there's a secret skill he has, it's dealing with the shit he brings upon himself. He's good at that. "You remember Kibum, right? You met him when you were still–" Joonmyun words trail off when someone greets him, a familiar face Minseok swears to God he can't recognize. Probably someone from college, because Joonmyun's recounting to him stories of when they were in the debate team. And then another to Joonmyun's left, more serious-looking this time. Minseok keeps a smile intact the whole time, careful not to let his features falter. Joonmyun's chooses him over Jongdae for occasions like this for a reason, or maybe several reasons. Being in complete control of his facial muscles is one of them. Only ten minutes after, when they've signed the guest book once and for all, does Minseok catch sight of Kibum. He excuses himself from Joonmyun, says he'll find him later and that I'll take care of Kibum and you take care of your business. Slowly, he feels the knots of tension in his shoulders ease, loosen up. Kibum picks up a wine glass along the way and hands it to Minseok in greeting. "So is this your way of covering for Joonmyun? Because he's out to make people fall in love with him again?" "I won't tell him you found out," Minseok replies, grinning. He keeps a steady hand on the glass when Kibum envelops him in an embrace. The huge difference between the art styles catches him off-guard when Kibum drags him further into the exhibit. It isn't so drastic – Kibum's impressionist art isn't so far from that of his co-exhibitor's, but the stroke and use of colors is different. Whatever lack of big, bold brush strokes there is in Kibum's paintings, he finds in the other works. If Kibum's paintings make use of light colors, striking contrasts in combinations, it's all dark and muted colors in the works of the other exhibitor's. It's a nice contrast that lends well to what each other's work is lacking. It's almost as if Kibum has found someone whose art style complements his and doesn't overpower it. "This one with the monsters? Got sold right after ribbon-cutting," Kibum whispers in his ear. They take a sip and exchange smiles with a few faces, all familiar to Kibum but otherwise forgettable. "The next bidder wanted a repaint, but of course everyone knows that's impossible. So my friend said, 'maybe you'd be interested in this'. And he pointed at that one, over there–" Kibum gestures at the painting at the far end of the place. The light doesn't quite reach the area, but he sees just enough of the features to feel a shiver roll down his spine. "Because it's basically the same banana! Except that one's a girl and this one's a monster!" "They're not the same banana." "Hyung, that's not my point. The message, the message!" Kibum sets his wine glass down on the tray near them and grabs two new glasses. "More wine?" Minseok narrows his eyes and mouths a 'thank you' at the waiter. "For me, yes. You? Nope. You've got guests to entertain." "But hyung–" Kibum groans. "Fine. Take the wine. Just come with me. I'll show you the other paintings. I love talking about someone else's life." "Ah." Minseok nods, slow and deliberate. The wine stings his tongue. "You haven't changed." They turn a corner to survey the other paintings, and Minseok catches sight of a familiar face. This is crazy, he wants to say – Minseok being in Gangnam isn't the strangest thing because he lives here, he breathes Gangnam air, drinks Gangnam water. Kyungsoo being in Gangnam, however, is… isn't normal. In all the years Minseok has lived in Gangnam, he's never bumped into a 'stranger' this frequently, and in such funny occasions either. The first encounter was a drive-by conversation; the second, getting Minseok and company to safety. The third is an extension of the previous. And then they're back to art, except on paper and not on skin. This, at least, lends some semblance of 'home' to Minseok. Something he's come to get used to. "You're here," Minseok says when their eyes meet. Kyungsoo chuckles, but cocks an eyebrow. "You're here." He looks at Kibum, then, "You're babysitting?" Kibum uncurls his fingers on Minseok's wrist, but pins him right in place with his gaze. "You know each other?" he asks, then, eyeing both Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo whispers to the person he was talking to before coming over. "Hyung, you have friends outside of work? You know other people?" "I'm one of those people," Kyungsoo teases. His voice is steady, though, unfazed. To Minseok, he asks, "You're older than Kibum? Because if you are–" Minseok takes a deep breath and nods. "Sometimes, it's a curse." Kibum pinches him in the arm. "And yes, Kibummie, your hyung knows how to make friends without people forcing him to." "I'm so sorry," Kyungsoo mumbles. He gives Minseok a curt nod. "Hyung. I should… probably call you that from now on." He leans back and looks at Kyungsoo from head to toe. Decked in a suit and with his hair slicked back, this Kyungsoo looks different from the one he met at the restaurant after the show, or the guy who dragged him from Insadong to Gangnam a week ago. This Kyungsoo looks more distant, guarded. His smile is tight at the corners, and his eyes are hooded. It's like he's locked a default expression onto his face because he doesn't have his bangs to cover his eyes, doesn't have a first line of defense. His shoulder are drawn back unlike the way they'd been the other day, when they parted at the parking lot. If he looked older before in pale, white light, this get up makes him look like a kid playing dress up. The bowtie is a nice touch, though – the red and white polka dots on red are a nice contrast to the ensemble. "You're here for a friend?" Minseok asks to fill the silence. Kyungsoo stops worrying his bottom lip. Beside Minseok, Kibum stands straight. Minseok moves his hands to Kibum's shoulders, pulling them back completely out of habit. "I'm here to support Kibummie, yes. Tried calling him 'hyung' before but he insisted not to." A corner of his lips quirks up. "And myself, even if that sounds weird." "You're the–" Minseok looks over his shoulder, to his left and right, at the painting of the girl staring at him from a few feet away. "You're the co-exhibitor? You painted the monsters thing?" "For the record, I said 'fears' when I explained it to him," Kibum says. Kyungsoo responds with a roll of the eyes, and eludes the punch Kibum throws at him. "Yeah, I painted the 'monsters thing'. I mean yes, I did, hyung," Kyungsoo replies. "You liked it?" Minseok takes a sip of his wine. "Freaked me out a bit," he teases. Kyungsoo's lips do that tiny pouting thing where they're not jutted out, but they're not quite sucked in. "It's amazing. This one, though…" "The girl?" "Not just a girl, I think," Minseok mumbles. "Nightmares? Regrets?" Kibum is quick to scoff, but Kyungsoo stays still, the only sign of movement in his features the light twitch of his eye. There isn't much light here, but up close Minseok can study the details of the painting better. There are streaks of light on the girl's bangs, and she's wearing a bunny headband. There are red stars on her cheeks, the tips of the top triangle glistening with tears. Is she crying? Maybe it's just sweat. Maybe she did something bad and she can't keep it in, can't keep her joy inside. Her lips are quirked up just a little, and a hint of her eyebags peeks from her long bangs. She doesn't even have a nose. Minseok can't see her nose. She isn't breathing. "Regrets, definitely," Minseok says after a while. There's a wild thumping in his chest. He takes a few quick breaths to steady himself, but even that does nothing. Nothing, save for the strong grip on his wrist, plants him firmly in place, stops his knees from shaking. Nothing but Kyungsoo's steady hold. Nothing but Kyungsoo saying, with a lilt in his voice, "Interesting." "That's actually a doll from his childhood. Back when he was still peeing in his pants," Kibum offers. Kyungsoo only offers a wry smile in response. Minseok looks away so that he doesn't have to address Kyungsoo twisting his elbow in Kibum's stomach. "Not a doll! A figurine! The girl you always drew on your notebook! The woman of your dreams!" Minseok glances at the painting one more time, and then looks at Kyungsoo. The semblance in striking. ☄ The guy with too many eyes and the number 23 jersey, Kyungsoo calls it "The Other Kibum". "I was inspired then, when I worked on it," Kyungsoo manages to say in between seething and wincing. Minseok doesn't want to know of the activity under the table, but judging from the look on Kyungsoo's face it isn't anything unsafe for public viewing. Kyungsoo presses a fist to Kibum's shoulder, then, but doesn't quite punch him, only twists his fist until his knuckles are digging into Kibum's skin. Beside Minseok, Joonmyun's laughter draws to a gradual halt. He can feel Joonmyun's hand on his thigh, slowly clenching into a fist. Joonmyun's hands are cold. There's a reason for Minseok to rest a hand on Joonmyun's own. "Could've been you, hyung," Kibum says, looking at Minseok. "If you two met earlier. I don't think I've seen anyone get along with Kyungsoo so easily." "You make him sound like–" "An insufferable asshole," Kibum finishes. "Hole, not hat, because there's a difference." Joonmyun's features light up. "See? Someone understands!" The thing about Kyungsoo, though, isn't that he's not so fond of social situations. Kyungsoo is, in fact – Minseok sees it in the way Kyungsoo's eyes glimmer when Joonmyun talks about performance art, painting on a huge canvas, brush strokes and all that. He sees it in the way the small, almost indiscernible smile on Kyungsoo's lips blooms into something bigger, brighter. A bold sense of happiness that reaches the corners of his eyes and makes them crinkle. When Kyungsoo laughs, at Kibum's jokes or at the casual way Joonmyun deflects all of Kibum's arguments but succumbs to them just as easily, his eyes turn into half-moon crescents. His top lip arcs up, and the corners of his mouth stretch into a full, heart-shaped smile. And then Minseok hears it – a steady drumbeat, then a piano sequence. A second melody to the piano. Dramatic upsound, and a shrill guitar riff. His body jerks in response. Kibum's making fun of Joonmyun now, and Kyungsoo looks up at him from his eyelashes. His lips hang loosely from the edge of the glass and shit, Minseok thinks, this is the perfect lighting for Kyungsoo. The yellow light casts him a warm glow, makes him look more alive. There's catch light in his eyes. From where Minseok is, Kyungsoo looks like he has just the ghost of a dimple on his cheeks. It softens the entire package, like Kyungsoo's just thrown away the bowtie and ruffled his own hair, wax and all. This is it, Minseok thinks, the Kyungsoo reflected in half of his painting. This is the girl trying to scare the fear and regret out of you so you can take that leap of faith you've long been preparing for. "How much is that painting?" Minseok asks, then. Kyungsoo chokes a bit on his water, but swallows the lump in one big gulp. "The one with the girl with the bunny ears – are you selling that one?" "It's pretty special," Kyungsoo says, voice just above a whisper. His syllables are drawn out, but he isn't drawling them. It's like he's processing each syllable, each sound, each lilt of his voice. He worries his bottom lip but keeps his gaze there, fixed on Minseok's own. Minseok has spent years teaching people to know their body better and this – this one Minseok knows all too well. This is apprehension. A fear of not being certain. Possibly regret, that if he ever lets the painting go, he'll never have anything quite like it ever again. "It wasn't," Kyungsoo admits after a while. He scratches a corner of his eye, the one that's crinkled just a little like he still hasn't come down from his fit of laughter. "It can be. We can… work out the details of the payment, if you want." Minseok nods, and only then does he realize that he's held in his breath for so long. "Great," he says, then fishes for his calling card. He'll have to complain about this to Jongdae – an illustration of butts isn't the most professional-looking logo. "This is my number. It takes a while for me to reply to texts so–" "You… You're a yoga instructor?" Kyungsoo laughs a little. "Could've sworn you gave off the dancer vibe. I mean, you saw that tiny slip back in–" "I am a yoga instructor. And I used to dance," Minseok confirms. He tries to pull up the corners of his mouth, but the stretch stings. Still, he tries his best. If he squints hard enough, he'll see the wry smile on his lips reflected in Minseok's eyes. Kyungsoo blinks at him several times, a light furrow in his eyebrows, and then it's gone. He leans back into his seat, then drinks his water all in one gulp. "Got it. Here's mine." Minseok accepts the calling card with both hands, then runs his thumb along the varnished part of the board. There's a simple, textured brush stroke in the background, then Kyungsoo's name and contact details written in big, bold characters. Tiny stars separating each detail – mobile number, fax number, email address. A Behance address. "Who uses a fax machine these days?" is Minseok's only comment, and Kyungsoo shakes his head in response, laughter slipping from his lips, completely unguarded. ☄ Trudging the streets of Gangnam at two in the morning isn't so bad. They'd sent Kibum and Joonmyun home just a few minutes ago in one cab since they live in the same building, but not without putting up a fight at first. "I can drive," Joonmyun had argued, and only after ten reminders did he realize that, "Yeah, that's right, I didn't bring my car– We walked to COEX–" Shit happens to you when you're thirty-something and you're still getting yourself ass drunk on a Friday. After seeing an art exhibit. After discussing at length the theory behind the proper brush strokes and the emotion each stroke conveys. "It's like… What do you call that…" Kyungsoo gesticulates in the air, worrying his bottom lip as he searches for the right word. Minseok has his arms folded in front of him, pinching himself in an effort to keep himself awake. Someone has to be sober enough to get them to the next block, and then the next, and then the next. "Ah, like isolation. The dance technique, you know that? I'm not a great dancer but I watch So You Think You Can Dance–" Minseok surrenders to the urge to pinch his nose, and Kyungsoo lets out a small giggle. An hour ago, he was still snorting. The three bottles of soju are to blame. "Which season are you in?" "Don't change the topic." "Manners." Kyungsoo stops in front of him, leaning forward. "Don't change the topic, hyung." They're at the corner of the block, and Minseok's house is just a good ten-minute walk away. Or fifteen, if he has to drag Kyungsoo's drunk ass all the way to his flat. It's not an option. Kyungsoo should be getting a cab here, should have gotten on a cab with Kibum minutes ago because he came to the exhibit with Kibum, not Minseok. But Kibum was headed in the other direction and Kyungsoo had insisted then, warm fingers wrapped around Minseok's wrist, "Let's go this way, hyung. This way, come on." He can smell Kyungsoo's breath, a mix of wine and soju and something else Minseok can't seem to place. The light from the lamp casts a soft glow on Kyungsoo, paints his cheek a light shade of pink. Kyungsoo's lips are chapped. He's worrying them again. Kyungsoo should stop doing that, Minseok thinks. Kyungsoo's humming and his face is a bit too close. Minseok's house is just two blocks away and shit, his mind is swirling, swimming in some vast body of water. There's a fish in there, somewhere, that looks a lot like the girl in the painting. Except it has eyes, and they're staring at Minseok in the face, and they're saying, come closer. If there's anything you're looking for, you only need to come closer– "Where do you live?" Minseok asks, whispers. Kyungsoo's face falls forward, stops when they collide, forehead to forehead. "Gyeonggi-do." "That's far." "Yeah." Kyungsoo scrunches his nose. "But I'm staying at Ilsandong." "That's still…" Kyungsoo licks his bottom lip and Minseok swallows hard. "That's still far." "Yeah," Kyungsoo says again. A heartbeat, and then, "Do you have Kibum's address?" Minseok leans back and rests his hands on Kyungsoo's shoulders. Kyungsoo's body gives a tiny jerk that reaches his eyes, makes them look back at Minseok at full attention. Kyungsoo's awake now, or at least he isn't sleepwalking anymore. With just the right amount of consciousness, Kyungsoo straightens up. He doesn't shrug off Minseok's hands. "Think you can walk two more blocks?" Kyungsoo blinks again, intervals more drawn out this time. "Yeah, I guess I can. Why?" "Stay at my place," Minseok whispers. "If… If anything happens to you, the police will be hounding me for it. Probably." Kyungsoo scoffs. "For my peace of mind." "You worry too much." Minseok cocks an eyebrow, but only shakes his head in response. They fall into step on their way to his flat, knuckles brushing against each other from time to time. Kyungsoo flinches the first few times, but comes to brush it off after a while. Halfway through, Kyungsoo begins to bob his head to a melody only he hears. Minseok risks once glance at Kyungsoo and he gets it, sort of, the song Kyungsoo's trying to sing. It's there, at the tip of his tongue, words tumbling from his lips but scrambling for purchase for fear of saying something wrong. It's at the pads of Minseok's fingers, the tips of his toes. In the sway of his shoulders that's set to the steady bobbing of Kyungsoo's head as they inch closer to their destination. When they reach the staircase to the entrance, Minseok catches Kyungsoo humming. Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows, but doesn't stop singing. And Minseok doesn't stop bobbing his head, either. ☄ Thanks for the couch. It was warm and comfy, one note says. The other, The coffee in Club Espresso is good. Great for hangovers. It takes Minseok a few reads until his mind processes the entire thing. He was hugging his coat when he woke up. His clothes are on the floor but he's still wearing his underwear. There's a folded blanket on his couch, and some of his pillows are stacked one on top of the other on it. There's no Do Kyungsoo in sight despite the distant memory of struggling with the keys to his flat and Kyungsoo giggling beside him. He runs a thumb over the notes again and again, then gives them one last read. And then everything clicks, even the tiny series of numbers scribbled at the bottom of the paper. He holds up the pink sticky note against the light and whispers, "What will I do with you?" He glances at the wall clock and feels a dull ache at the back of his head, his calves, his back. Shit, he thinks. It's ten in the morning and he's supposed to be somewhere north of the river in two hours. He doesn't even know the exact location yet. Shit, he thinks when he catches sight of the pink paper again – he wants to see Kyungsoo, one more time. Or maybe he needs to. There's a transaction to be ironed out, a painting to be won. He has to know what song it was that Kyungsoo was singing last night. For my peace of mind, a voice at the back of his head says. It doesn't sound like him. He searches for his phone, groaning when he finds it buried in his pillows. It takes five whole minute to type a message to Joonmyun to ask for directions, and another five to convince himself that his bed is the work of the devil. He gathers a fresh change of clothes decent enough for a meet up but types a quick text before hitting the showers. Only when he emerges from the bathroom, water dripping down his chest, does he look at the message again, rewrite it, then erase it altogether. He sticks the pink Post-it to the screen so he won't forget. Buries his phone deep in his pocket so that he will, even if only for the next two, three hours. He heads out of his house and straight to the parking lot once he gathers himself again. He puts Jason Mraz songs on full blast and tries to drown out Kyungsoo's voice – his low, steady humming, and then traces of the song he sang at midnight – from his mind. one | two | three | four | five