rustle | exo: one heart is never enough alone (1/3)

one heart is never enough alone
— Suho/Kai, Sehun/Kai, Suho/Baekhyun, and some others. NC-17. 111225 words.
— Jongin attends university in K-ARTS for two reasons: one, his scholarship; and two, his favorite DJ, $uho. (Warnings: a bit of public sex, mentions of minor character death)
— Written for

noteholding in fulfillment of an

exorelieffund bid! Many apologies for the delay, and thank you so much for being patient with me. ♥ To the best hand-holders, cheerleaders, word war buddies – L, S, C, and F, I can't thank you enough. Without you guys, I… probably would have gone insane already. You guys are the best ♥

"It's not the camera, Jongin. It's you."

Jongin shifts in his position and untucks the only portion of his shirt that's stuffed in his jeans. Whoever came up with this kind of fashion for "cool people" is silly, but then he can't be completely correct. $uho wears the same kind of fashion in every video of his, be it a weekly top ten or one of those mid-week music recommendations. He always fashions the same style – a shirt at least three sizes too big for him, faded blue capri shorts, a striped beanie. One side of the shirt tucked in his shorts and the other bunched up loosely so it can hang off the jut of his hips. Chucks, too, because "c00L pE0pLE we4R cHuKZ". At least $uho has grown out of the sticky caps phase; even Jongin, self-declared number one $uho fan, still couldn't help but flinch at the memory of that era.

"Seriously, you should've dropped him as soon as you found out he was using sticky caps," Sehun mumbles. He ducks back into checking the recording they've just done, then grimaces. "Do you want to see your awkward self doing your awkward $uho DJing thing?"

Jongin looks up at Sehun, saying, "It can't be that bad."

Sehun heaves a sigh and turns to Jongin with a solemn smile. It's the one he saves only for certain occasions, specifically those where he knows – and Jongin does, too – that Jongin is as good as hopeless when it comes to pulling off a miracle. Jongin has known Sehun for too long already to know when he uses this to play around with Jongin, to pull at his leg. He's known Sehun for too long already to know when Sehun only aims to make him smile and laugh and cry in consequence soon after because Jongin does that, when he's frustrated and he doesn't know what to do. It's been years since it last happened, though, and Jongin's better at holding back his tears now. He's already graduated from high school; it's only fitting that he be tougher now, stronger, for him to have more control over his tear ducts and over his facial expressions.

"Sorry, bud," Sehun replies after a while. He looks at the footage again, then looks back up at Jongin. "It's just… You really look weird here. Too self-conscious? Just relax, bud. I know you can do it–"

"I know I'm gonna flop! I know I'm gonna–" Jongin takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. "I'm never gonna get into K-ARTS." Jongin crouches, bracing his arms over his head. "And I'm never gonna get this scholarship, and–"

"And you're never gonna meet your Youtube idol with a sloppy fashion sense and questionable sleeping times," Sehun continues. He walks over to where Jongin is, though, and gives his head a pat. "Come on. Stop feeling miserable. You're ten times worse than your $uho-adoring self when you're self-pitying."

"I do not adore him," Jongin grumbles. "He's my life peg."

Sehun snorts. "Do you even know what that means?" A heartbeat, and then more boisterous laughter. "You fap to him?"

Jongin gulps hard, then retorts, "No!"

A half-truth, if Jongin is completely honest with himself. He's never jacked off to any of $uho's videos, at least, or to $uho's voice when he's going through his lengthy narration of the meaning of the lyrics or a brief history on the band. Not even when he's doing a rap and taking a line from each song in the top ten, stringing them together to form cohesive lyrics. That's really cool, though. $uho's confidence when he's on camera, however – that one he definitely might have stroked himself to a few times. Imagined himself at the top of his game, raking money through the Youtube partnership program and making music with SM Entertainment. Being sucked off by a hot guy under the mixing table. Said guy maybe looks a lot like $uho, but Jongin loses the image of $uho in his atrocious clothing – there, he said it – and imagines a cute guy on his knees, stroking his cock, nuzzling it before placing light kisses on the length and taking it in his mouth.

So in essence, $uho is just the jump-off point. $uho isn't $uho without his iconic fashion and Youtube identity. $uho is just an online identity. For all Jongin knows, $uho might not even want to be associated with that name in real life. Heck, for all he knows, $uho might only be a character made by some 3D expert. Now that guy, he'd definitely bow down to and get down on his knees for. Probably blow on the side, but Sehun doesn't have to know that.

"I caught the pause. Teeny tiny moment of hesitation. Hmm." Sehun strokes his chin, nodding thoughtfully. "And then the furrow of your eyebrows, the scrunching of the nose, and then the blush–"

"I am not blushing!" Jongin checks his reflection in the mirror. He's not blushing; he's just half-hard. He can feel the strain in his pants. He has ten more minutes to record, probably, because the image of the 3D animator who'd modeled $uho and rigged the joints to animate him properly– No. "Okay. Enough. We're going to record and I'm going to get the scholarship because I will blow them away with my skill in DJing."

Sehun laughs a little. "You do remember that your first track choice is Film and Animation, right?" The shit-eating grin on his lips makes him look ten times uglier than he already it. "So, DJing is connected to that in… what way?"

"Shut up," Jongin groans. "I can add a shitton of visuals and magic stuff… thinggies with AfterEffects, okay? Let's just do this, Sehun."

Sehun shrugs. "Okay, whatever you say."

The truth is, Jongin could have easily entered a different university and tried for, say, a management course. Or a course in economics and political science, even. Graduating at the top of your class doesn't give you a free pass to any university your heart so desires – that's Sooneung results at work. It does sort of make the application process easier, though. Jongin has always had great grades, save for Science where Sehun excels over him. And maybe English, but in his defense his spelling is shitty only sometimes. He hadn't accomplished the composition part of Sooneung with nearly perfect marks for nothing, after all.

But he wants to do something he's passionate about in university. He wants to make all those cool effects he sees in movies, or maybe even create a game. He wants to share his love for music to the rest of the world not only through a Facebook page where he can post his song recommendations but through a show of his own, or a Youtube channel where people can actually see his face and get the impression that he really is into this shit. Some of the people in Youtube who say they love cooking and stuff? Those are flukes. You'll know once you see a strategically placed can of Del Monte in the background. And the long line of spiels at the end. Thank you to my sponsors, et cetera et cetera.

"Rolling," Sehun calls out from behind the camera, because he likes to pretend he's a great director. He's not even planning to major in it.

"Okay." Jongin claps his hands, cracks his knuckles. He cracks his neck, too, and smiles a little when he feels the knot of tension in his shoulders come off, easing as he sees the bright red light of the camera blinking at him. He takes a deep breath, then, pulling his shoulders back in a way that he knows makes him look more impressive. He does that when he's made to go on stage to give a speech on the weirdest topics ever, and he emerges victorious every single time, makes some of the faculty tear up, even.

"Let's do this," he mutters under his breath. Sehun nods at him flashes two thumbs up.

♬ ♬ ♬

In this dream, he's probably having multiple orgasms already. He isn't supposed to be carefully cutting off one edge of an envelope and slowly pulling out a letter or two. He isn't supposed to be unfolding the papers, either, perusing through them as he thumbs through the edges. Three papers, all containing different things – one with a happy salutation that says, Greetings, Kim Jongin-ssi! We are glad to let you know that you have been accepted into the Film and Animation program of Korea National University of the Arts! Another that details all the subjects he can take up during his freshman year and a note at the end that requires him to 1) be a member of a school organization because apparently top students have to be able to balance both academics and club activities; and 2) follow the flowchart if he wants a stress-free pre-enlistment period on his next semester.

And finally, the last piece of paper, a letter from the office of student grants saying that the panel is thrilled to let him know that he passed the assessment for the scholarship grant, that he's exhibited exceptional video editing and special effects rendering capabilities that they're positive that you will make a great contribution to the K-ARTS community.

He goes through that line one more time, and then another, and another, then pinches himself. "I've got to be dreaming."

Sehun snatches the piece of paper from him, but with finesse. He doesn't even know how that's possible. All he knows is that Sehun is now wide-eyed and he's grinning ear to ear and that's not his you're not fucking around with me grin. "You have got to be dreaming."

"Pinch me."

Sehun gives his cheek a light punch.

"I said pinch, not punch!" Jongin groans.

"Same banana," Sehun replies. "But shit, man, you– You're going to K-ARTS. With a scholarship. You're going to K-ARTS–"

It's one of those very few times that he's glad to have Sehun as a friend. If there's anyone who knows him better than himself, it's Sehun. Sehun has seen him graduate from diapers to real undies (provided that he actually has a recollection of that; Jongin hopes Sehun doesn't). Sehun has seen him bawl over his first 7/10 mark in Math. Sehun was there when he got his first medal for composition writing, and they stood beside each other as Sehun was given the Best in Spelling medal. They've been through every tough academic period together, have expressed the same brand of distaste for Biology but aced the exams, nonetheless. Sehun was there to watch the first ever video that Jongin created with Windows MovieMaker, and then the one in Vegas, until Jongin finally got a hang of Premiere and AfterEffects.

Sehun was the one who told him, "Hey bro, why don't you try getting a scholarship in K-ARTS? You have good grades, just slightly better than mine." A nudge of the elbow, then, "C'mon, give it a shot. There's no harm in trying, right?"

"I'm going to K-ARTS," Jongin whispers. He buries his face in the crook of Sehun's neck because he is definitely not crying; he's just emoting through his eyes. Those are two different things. "I'm going to make awesome videos and be a director and be the change I want to be in lousy Youtube videos–"

Sehun chuckles, scoffs-snorts-laughs or whatever that sound is supposed to be, and he hiccups for a moment until Jongin feels something wet on his scalp, at the back of his head. "You are," Sehun says, voice so soft he could be whispering, and he threads his fingers through Jongin's hair, the stroke of his thumb on the giving flesh of Jongin's scalp soft, gentle. "I'm so proud of you."

Sehun sounds like his mom, but he'll save that comment for later. For now, he relishes the moment and takes a deep breath, taking in the mixed scent of fabric conditioner and Sehun's strawberry lotion and Sehun's sweet voice.

"I know," Jongin whispers. Sehun sobs a little. "I know."

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin loads $uho's new recommendation for the week and wiggles in his chair, then shifts so that he's sitting on his feet. $uho is wearing a black shirt underneath the basketball jersey and his hair's gelled up, bangs pulled back in a style that removes the shadows that usually make his features look sharper, darker. He looks like an ordinary college dude today who's part of a hiphop group, but Jongin doesn't really care. He's here for the music, anyway, as always. When he's feeling stuck and he needs some new tunes to get his cogwheels turning, all the has to do is hop to $uho's channel and hope that there's a new video that he can watch.

$uho delivers his usual spiel for the introduction, then delves right into the recommendation for the day. It's a new track from Walk the Moon. Jongin loves that band – it got him through forty-eight straight hours of laboring over stats and calculus practice tests just so he can be assured of a near-perfect score come the actual exam. "Okay, this better be good," he mumbles, then shifts in his seat again. He drums his fingers on his desk, and his pinky gets caught on a sharp piece of paper – an envelope.

He looks at the comment section of the video, then, and sees that no one has left a comment yet. Normal, because Jongin's usually the first to leave a note on the recommendation or even the timely upload because wow rly needed this $uho tnx, swore i was goin 2 drop dead while studying calc kekeke.

He taps the keys of his keyboard lightly, then, and types up a quick message – hey $uho i got into k-arts!! tnx for being an inspo, u r such an icon and i love ur song choices n it seems d panel liked em enough 2 let me in too haha (btw luv Walk the Moon <3)

He doesn't need to know that you fap to his song recos, he hears a voice in his mind say. It sounds a lot like Sehun's. He deletes it, retypes with proper capitalization this time because Jesus, a K-ARTS scholar shouldn't be using shortcuts when typing with a real, physical QWERTY keyboard. Maybe he should even get a new Youtube account, change his username from drealkimkai2007 to kim.jongin. He snatches a sticky note from his pad nearby and scribbles a note on that. He'll do that later. He can send the 'thank you' message once that's done.

Or maybe he can just thank $uho in person. $uho studies in K-ARTS, anyway; he'd mentioned that in one of his videos where he talked about the broadcasting club hosting this mini radio week where they played music for the entire college of art theory to help the art dorks study better. Jongin gets an idea, then, scribbles apply 4 membership @ d broadcasting club ng check requirements in websyt on another sticky note, scores through that a few times and rewrites the message again, spelling out each and every word. He tacks it to the calendar beside his laptop and smiles to himself. He's never felt more responsible.

Except he doesn't get to create a new account, GMail or Youtube, and neither does he get to check the requirements for membership in the website. So come first day of class in K-ARTS, he writes drealkimkai2007@yahoo.com under the email address column beside his name. He hands the paper to the girl behind him with a smile.

"Nice email," she says, cackling.

"Nice…" Jongin looks around and spots a pen on the girl's desk with a doraemon pencil top. "Pen cap. Thing. Whatever. Doraemon, over there." Jongin gestures with his lips. "Would've been better if it was Mojacko."

The girl snickers. "You like Mojacko?"

Jongin waits for the girl's laughter to die down a little. It pays to be in an honors class sometimes. You're sort of assured that people won't laugh at you silly for your quirks. The girl's wicked grin softens at the corners, and then her eyes dance with a twinkle that Jongin can't seem to place. It's nice, cute, and really, he likes Doraemon. It's just that he likes Mojacko more.

So he admits, after clearing his throat. "Yeah. I think he's cool."

"Cute," the girl says. "Jung Soojung. Nice to meet you… real 'Kim Kai'," she continues, using air quotes for his name.

"It's Kim Jongin," Jongin mutters. He looks back in front at the same time that the professor looks around the room, smiling at the class. Then the professor returns to facing the board, snatching a whiteboard marker from his back pocket. "I just thought Kai was a cool name back in high school."

"If it makes you feel better, Jongin– Soojung drawls his name, the last bit of sound coming off her tongue like a thick syrup. "I used to use Krystal before, back in high school. Because, uh." She looks away, then whispers, look in front. The professor's watching. "Because 'moon crystal power'."

Jongin laughs but quickly swallows the sound, then risks a quick glance over his shoulder. "Sailormoon?"

Soojung pokes his shoulders and whispers, "Focus on what he's saying."

First class of the first semester means they won't delve right into the actual lesson yet, though. The professor, Lee Jinki, is a history major who eventually went into advertising, then transferred to the production side of the business. He opened his own production house soon after, then started doing commercials for big brands like P&G and Mondelez. And now he's working on the third installment of his 'The Chicken and the Egg' series that turns out to be a parody on the politics in colleges and universities.

"So I'm telling you, what we're trying to achieve here isn't mastery of the craft. Well, that's just a component of it," Jinki says. "But what's important is the substance of the films you'll be creating in the future. Or the music videos! You're making a girl group show a lot of skin, but what for? You're making a boy band do hip thrusts as the camera pans across the room, right in front of these newly-legal boys. What gives? When you choose a means by which you'd want to communicate your message, you have to choose your medium carefully. And here in our history of film class, we'll look at how all these great scriptwriters, how these movie directors were able to effectively relay a message without having to resort to really racy execution and tasteless use of porn."

Jongin leans back a little and whispers, "I like Sailormoon. It talks about friendship and shows that even losers can make a difference in this world."

Soojung laughs a little. "It also means that losers have to focus on what the professor is saying so that they'll be able to transform into sailor scouts when they need to save the day already."

"Fine, fine," Jongin mumbles. He sits up straight, then succumbs to the urge to lean forward and prop his chin on his hands.

Jinki doesn't let them introduce themselves until thirty minutes before the class ends, though, and poses a question – "What do you see yourself doing with a camera in your hands ten years from now?" He starts with the people at the back. There's Taemin who wanted to major in dance, initially, but found himself falling in love with traditional filmmaking when he first held a camera in his hands. And then there's Zitao, a student who'd recently transferred from China, saying that he sees himself bridging the gaps between different cultures and races through his film. "Ah, world peace," Jinki even comments. Jongin only bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

Soojung talks about wanting to do more story-based music videos for Korean artists, then, and mentions that her ultimate goal is to create a documentary on the life of her grandparents. Jinki cocks an eyebrow at that, but the smile on his lips hasn't waned yet. Soon, he's grinning, baring his teeth, and Jongin can't help but marvel at Soojung's determination to immortalize the achievements of her grandparents in a feature film. What's that compared to Jongin's silly dream of creating the next best Harry Potter hit or an entirely new genre of film called horror-suspense-romance with zombies?

"And you?" Jinki turns to him, a smile on his lips. "Kim Jongin, is that right?"

Jongin nods. "Yes, sonsaengnim. I… I used to go by Kim Kai online. Tried to upload a few game review videos but I got lazy afterwards. Busy." He clears his throat. "And then I encountered this really weird DJ on Youtube and he… You know the contrast between his style and the type of songs he recommends to people? I find it really… strange. But amazing. It's like he's saying, 'hey, I don't have to wear a suit and tie to enjoy bossa' or' I don't have to be this stiff corporate kind of guy to enjoy a little RnB every now and then'. I… want to do that, too, other than to create films that will leave a mark in the next generation. Something that will inspire them to study harder."

Bullshit, a voice in Jongin's mind says. If anything, he might just encourage them to get deeper into the gameplay of Pokemon to create kick-ass teams for online battling.

"I want to be this… this person so well-versed in different kinds of music that when people suddenly get this urge to look for new music to listen to, they'll think, 'ah, maybe I can consult Kim Kai. He'll be able to help!' Because music has helped me get through some weird phases of my life. I mean some trying times." Calculus, statistics, biology. "Tough times."

Jinki nods, slow and deliberate, then looks up at him. "But why film? Why not broadcasting?"

Jongin shrugs, then musters the best smile he can summon to his lips. Because $uho does Youtube videos so I can shoot two birds with one stone by taking up film? he wants to say, but that isn't exactly the best answer. So instead, he answers, "My love for music and cool special effects culminates in film, sonsaengnim. And... I'm passionate about this?" He takes a deep breath, remembering all those nights he'd dedicated to dissecting every element of MovieMaker. Those were the days. After a while, e continues, "And this isn't he most convincing answer, probably, but… why not?"

Jinki furrows his eyebrows for a moment, but the tight corners of his lips ease into a smile after a while. "Sounds familiar," Jinki whispers, but he's speaking so softly that he could've said something else. Jongin isn't so accustomed to picking apart other people's voices, not yet. Music, maybe, but not voices in particular. He'll still need practice in that department. So he strains his hearing, keeps listening to Jinki, and only hiccups when Jinki moves closer to ruffle his hair.

"I'll keep an eye on you, kid," Jinki says, then gives Jongin's hair a few quick pats.

And I'll try my best to not lose your interest, Jongin says in his mind. I'll try my very best.

♬ ♬ ♬

It turns out that Soojung is supposed to be a second year already, but she had to stop halfway through the semester last year. "I had this really nasty back injury that time. So they had to operate on me, replace my bones with bars, et cetera et cetera." Soojung waves her hand about, making a flourish as if she isn't talking about breaking her back and undergoing surgery. She'll get along with Sehun pretty well. "All is good now, though, but I'm in the college of broadcasting. I'm planning to go into sports annotating someday. My… parents wanted me to be an athlete."

"Oh," Jongin whispers, nodding in thought. He looks to his side, then at the exit ahead of them. That's the passageway from the Film building to the Broadcasting building. And that's where he should be headed, as well, if he wants to check the requirements for the broadcasting club. "Are you– Can't you try to play again? I mean, I don't know the sport but if you're really passionate about it–"

"Tennis," Soojung replies. She locks her arms behind her back and stretches, the braided pigtails of her hair falling off her shoulders. "I can't even if I wanted to. Too much strain on the back. So I'lm going for the next best thing." She claps her hands together and smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Sports broadcasting! I'm sure I'll do a great job. I was born with tennis–"

"Molded by it, nurtured by it–" Jongin takes a deep breath, remembering that scene from Batman. He feels a heavy pressure in his side, then, and turns to his side to catch Soojung elbowing him. "What?"

"Did you hear yourself? You just… went from your normal giggly voice to this really deep tone and–" She blinks up at him, and the corners of her mouth tug up into a smile, bold and bright, teeth-baring. "You… What if you went into voice acting?"

"Me? Voice acting?" Like the ones he hears in those Japanese 'BL dramas' where two guys fuck and he's left wondering if the voice actors actually fuck each other in the recording booth? Shit, Jongin, don't do that. Don't taint the sanctity of the booth, he tells himself. "I dunno. I'm not that flexible."

"Training, Jongin. There's always the opportunity to learn how it's done." She cocks both eyebrows at him. "I'm sure the broadcasting club can help. They hold voice acting workshops from time to time. Wasn't able to stay long enough to know if they actually held those, but yeah." She grins. "I'm sure the guys there will be able to help you out."

Jongin narrows his eyes at her. "Sounds ominous."

"Sounds good," Soojung answers. "You'd know, mister 'passionate about music and sounds'. I'm sure you'll have fun with it. Just give it a shot."

If history were anything to go by, the few times that Jongin did go with something he has very little knowledge about had been nothing but great. He won second place in that expository paragraph writing contest back in fifth grade, then won gold in the spelling bee in his first year of middle school. He'd also won a few more awards in those times when he'd suddenly be pulled out of class, expecting him to be able to catch up on lessons, anyway, because he's one of the district's top students. And then the most recent – he got a scholarship in K-ARTS after Sehun somehow convinced (brainwashed) him to apply for one. So maybe, just maybe, this isn't such a bad idea. Or it could be, but there's always the opportunity to turn it into something good.

"If it turns out to be a bad idea–"

"I'll buy you ice cream," Soojung answers. She clamps her hands on Jongin's shoulders, then pushes him forward, closer to the passageway from the Film building to the Broadcasting. "Okay, we're going to the club room!"

The pressure of Soojung's hands on his shoulders relieves the tension in his muscles just a little. it's strange, weird – it feels a lot like Sehun's touch, warm and soothing, even at the most inopportune of times. If he were the slightest bit interested in girls then his heart would skip a beat, but he relishes this feeling, nonetheless, the wave of relief that washes over him as Soojung guides him up the stairs, down the corridor, then to the narrow alley to the club room, touch unwavering.

The broadcasting club room isn't like anything he'd imagined. No huge sound booths, no headphones of varying sizes and brands. No carpets for better acoustics. There are two shelves near the entrance, though, both filled with books on sound and music – its history, the technicalities of sound design, and even the parts of a waveform. Jongin blinks several times at that and decides to take a step back and pull away even before he can ask Soojung the importance of knowing the parts of a sound wave. Still, he struggles with keeping mum and biting the inside of his cheeks, blurting out, "This is it?"

"Pretty disappointing, yeah?" Soojung says. She chuckles. She raises her hand, then, pointing at the different areas of the club room. "This one's where the council usually convenes to make important decisions. This one here, the big area at the middle, that's where most meetings are held. That's where we brainstorm, as well, for the projects of the club." She takes a few steps forward and points at a few more things – the small area for eating cocktail style, and then a couch near the lone desk at the far edge of the room, opposite the door. She says people call that 'the lounge'.

"Now here, inside, this is where the magic happens," she continues. She cocks her head in the direction of another door, narrower that the standard ones in the school. Jongin feels like his claustrophobia's attacking him again, eating him from the inside then out. It's makes him shiver. "I've only been inside thrice, all during broadcasting week. We were plugged to the entire school's PA system. It was like manning a real radio program."

Jongin takes a deep breath and inches closer to the door, inspecting it from head to toe. It's made of dark wood. It makes sense that they use wood as a sound absorber in a room for the broadcasting club, but– "You're part of the broadcasting club? I mean, you were part of it?"

"Before I stopped for the surgery, yeah. I was part of the second broadcasting week here in K-ARTS," Soojung replies. She wraps her fingers around the knob, then gives it a slick twist. "We can take a quick peek. Just don't eat inside."

Jongin holds both arms up and empties out his pocket. "Just my gum. Here. Inside my mouth." He chews noisily. "I won't tack this to any surface inside, I promise."

Soojung rolls her eyes. "Very well, then." She twists the door knob all the way and pushes the door open, holding it for Jongin. "After you."

It's a narrow passageway behind the door, and then a glimmer of light a few feet away from the entrance. It isn't really dark – the lighting's just dim, warm yellow lights casting him a sick glow. There aren't any writings on the walls, no inscriptions whatsoever, but there is a 'no eating' sign at the end of the passageway. Another door – Jongin takes the liberty to open this one and swings it forward, revealing a well-lit room inside.

He takes a deep breath at the sight and holds it there, at the center of his chest, the thumping against his ribcage growing louder with each passing second. There's a sound booth in front of him, a huge equalizer on one side of the long table and a mixer on the other side. There's a computer on this side of the room, too, with a screen big enough to display long sound waves produced from recordings. There are a few microphones here and there, all in tiny glass cases, and then a dry box at the corner with three little cameras. Probably for the behind-the scenes footages, or for when they do one of those live 'boras' like the ones he sees online for Kiss the Radio and Starry Night Radio.

And at the other side of the room, beyond the glass, lies the real thing – the condenser microphone with a pop filter for recordings, and then another condenser that can be pulled down for broadcasts. The closed laptops on the desk on the other side are labelled FOR SOUND BOOTH USE ONLY.

"Wow," is the only thing Jongin says. He looks around him again, then, at the tiny knobs of the equalizer, then laughs a little. "Just… wow."

He misses the other mics at a corner of the booth on the other side. He doesn't miss the light chuckle over his shoulder, though, and Soojung's small sound of surprise. "Like what you're seeing?" says the unfamiliar voice– No, this one is… strangely familiar. Definitely not Soojung's, but he's heard this somewhere before. Probably a bit rougher than the raw tone he's hearing right now, but the tone is so distinct. He knows this voice well enough that he can see the image of an outfit clearly in his mind – baggy capri shorts, faded as hell. One side of his baggy shirt tucked and the other pooled at the jut of his hip. And really bad-looking bling of a dollar sign around his neck.

Except he doesn't sound as rough or anything but holy shit– He turns around to look over his shoulder and blurts it out loud, choking a bit. "Holy shit–"

"Oppa, you scared the sh–" The man cocks his eyebrows at Soojung, and Soojung bites her lower lip before continuing, "sharks out of me. Oppa, the thought's been conceived in my mind already. What's the point in not saying the word?"

"You're in my club room, little girl. My club, my rules," said 'oppa' replies. He ruffles Soojung's hair, then, and Soojung narrows her eyes at him but lets him pat the tuft of hair, anyway. "You brought a friend with you, I see."

"Ah yeah, he accidentally did some voice acting earlier. I think he's a natural." She looks over her shoulder, pausing for a while, then turns back to the other guy. "You should hear him, oppa. Raw talent but I think, with a bit of polishing, he'll be great."

The not-stranger hums, the corners of his lips tugging up on reflex. God, Jongin think, even that curl of the lip looks so familiar it almost makes him want to throw up. "Jung Soojung, impressed by someone? You must be good…" He chuckles, then, and covers his mouth with his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name. You are?"

"Kim Jongin," Jongin replies. Owner of the top spot in the comments to all of your videos? The guy with the godawful username? "It's a pleasure to meet you, um–" He scratches at this jeans, seething when a nail catches on the material and gets stuck for a moment. "I'm sorry, it's just that– I know he studies here in K-ARTS but I don't know his course but yeah he studies here and he's in the broadcasting club and–"

Get your act together, Jongin! This isn't how the class valedictorian is supposed to address– The smile on the guy's lips tugs up even more and reveals pearly white teeth. –your idol, your life peg, the man you look up to but whose fashion sense you still condone–

"Are you $uho?" he finally asks, breathless as he ends. The man's eyes widen and he leans back just a little. Jongin waits for… something, a sign that he hasn't made the person in front of him feel affronted, if ever said something bad or detrimental about $uho. He would never; he'd talk shit about Sehun's plans of dyeing his hair all the colors of the rainbow but never talk shit about $uho. The silence is thick, almost deafening, and it's broken only by the man's light laughter, the lilt of his voice and the way he almost chokes when he reaches a high note in his fit of amusement. His eyes turn into half-moon crescents and his cheeks burn a light shade of red and no way in hell is this $uho, no swag at all, but at the same time Jongin can imagine $uho's alter ego being exactly like this. His real identity, rather, since $uho is just a persona – $uho said it, himself.

Soojung snorts. The guy hasn't stopped laughing yet, but he doesn't have beads of tears at the corners of his eyes anymore. "Well, it was bound to come out, anyway. It's not as if–" The man laughs again, shaking his head time. If Jongin didn't find enough self-restraint to grab $uho-looking person by the shoulders, the guy would probably be so dizzy right now with all the violent shaking. "You know, that just started as a project–"

"–in your broadcasting class," Jongin says, nodding.

The man cocks an eyebrow at him. "And then my roommate, Chanyeol, thought it would be great to dress me up in his baggy clothes." The man takes a deep breath, shakes his head, laughs again. "Kim Joonmyun. Broadcasting club president in the morning, Youtube sensation in the evening. Pleasure to meet you," he says, extending his hand in Jongin's direction. "I only use the name $uho online. Don't let anyone else hear you saying that."

"Oh," Jongin whispers. He stares at Joonmyun's outstretched hand for a while, then gives it a few quick shakes. He imagines the horrible snake rings $uho wears in his videos. Joonmyun's hands are free of those, thank God. "Oh. Yes, I promise. And hi, I'm your biggest fan."

Joonmyun doesn't seem to be accustomed to hearing things like those because the next thing Jongin knows, Joonmyun's cheeks are a bright shade of red. Soojung's laughing beside him, and it only takes a stern look from Joonmyun to make Soojung stop. "He gets that a lot, but never with his videos. Most people think he's silly for trying to be some hiphop dude when he can hardly rap in real life," Soojung narrates. "I mean, just look at him – does he look like he can rap without at least twelve hours straight of practice? He isn't even sold on the idea of loosening his tie in school." Joonmyun gives her that look again and this time Soojung only rolls her eyes. "Who even wears long-sleeved polos and dress pants in school even if he doesn't have a presentation?"

I almost did, Jongin says, remembering the outfits he'd prepared the night before for his first day in school. It made sense, though – he wanted to impress professors and come off as a serious student who went to school with a mission to learn everything, right? In the end, he went with a blue checkered polo and light-colored denim jeans. Then he slung his old school bag over his shoulder. He'd kept the sleeves of his polo unfolded for a hint of 'professionalism'.

"Formal attire isn't so bad," he says in defense. "Makes you look snappier. Smarter."

"Oh well. It is still cold. I guess it's pretty timely, as well," Soojung says. She tugs at the cuffs of Joonmyun's sleeves and Joonmyun tries to make her let go by waving his arms about, but to no avail – Soojung's grip on him is too tight. "Oppa, you're not going to a business meeting."

"I came from a business meeting," Joonmyun mutters. He looks up again to meet Jongin in the eye, saying, "I wasn't supposed to come here, but–"

But you knew I was coming! Sensed it, because of the uploader-commenter connection! No, Jongin, that's just stupid. "Because you love the club so much, it pains you to not drop by the club room, at the very least, since you're in the vicinity?"

Joonmyun furrows his eyebrows a little, then nods. "Exactly that." He lays a palm flat on Soojung's hand, then says, "I'll be off in a while, anyway. I have consultation in an hour. Need to do some reading in the library."

"You can read here?" Jongin blurts out. He gulps hard, then grabs Soojung by the wrist. "We can get lost. I mean we can leave since Soojung just… showed me around and it's not as if I intend to ask you questions about your life or anything because–" He bites the inside of his cheek and repeats in his mind, again and again, stop making a fool of yourself, Jongin. "Because we have to study, too." He checks his schedule tacked on the other side of his clear folder, and Joonmyun chuckle as Jongin scores along the edge of the paper with his nail. "I have to be in my 'Introduction to Sound' class in thirty minutes, after all."

Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth tugs up even more. "You're a broadcasting major? Or... are you a film major?"

Jongin nods, just a few light bobs of the head. "Yes," he says when he finds his voice again. "Yes to being a film major, I mean. I… want to make a really great movie someday. Lots of special effects and lessons to be learned."

"Sounds familiar," Joonmyun hums. He cranes his neck, looking out into the narrow corridor, then turns back to Jongin. "You can study here. If you have any questions on the subject, you can ask me. I was supposed to go into film before shifting to–"

"Broadcasting," Jongin whispers. Joonmyun's eyes shoot up, meeting Jongin's own, and Jongin feels his insides turn. It's a good lurch, not the crippling type that makes you go weak in the knees in the worst possible manner. "Are you sure, Kim Joonmyun-ssi?"

"Just hyung is fine," Joonmyun says. He tilts his head in the direction of the door. "Come on. No time to waste. Best to prepare for class so that you can answer whatever questions the professor wants to chuck at you."

But it's the first day of class. Nobody throws a pop quiz on the first day, Jongin wants to say, but words escape him, rushing to the very back of his throat and only letting garbled noises slip from his lips. He follows Joonmyun, then, into the corridor and out into the main club area. Joonmyun motions for Jongin to follow him to where the couch is and pats the space beside him, and it only takes a cock of an eyebrow and the head from Joonmyun for him to agree to gloss through the readings that they've been given before the semester started. Joonmyun gives him a refresher on the basics of sound, how it's produced, the organs involved, and the differences between its usage in broadcasting and in media. It's feels like being quizzed because Joonmyun keeps humming at the end of each section they breeze through, and Jongin's hardly the worst student with godawful concentration, but it's hard to focus with your idol just a few centimeters away, his pinky touching the jutted bone of your wrist, all of his attention on you.

It's hard to focus and even more difficult to attempt to impress, and Jongin tries not to wince whenever he catches the weird lilt in his own voice or the choked noises at the back of his throat. Joonmyun only chuckles in response, bobbing his head to the rhythm of Jongin's easy speech as he explains what he knows about sound and what he doesn't, and what he'd want to learn during the sound studio practice, if they'll ever be given the opportunity to go behind the booth this semester.

"What if you get the chance to get behind the booth, though? Record a few things just for fun?" Joonmyun asks.

"Just for fun?" Jongin chuckles. "I dunno, hyung. I don't think anyone should taint the sanctity of the booth just for the sake of fun."

"Really now? Interesting," Joonmyun says, then hums as he nods. He says nothing more even when Jongin looks at him, eyes searching for an answer to a question he doesn't even know. Joonmyun doesn't say a thing until Jongin excuses himself for his classes and seeks Soojung's help to get back to his side of the campus because I trust my feet to take me there but I don't trust my senses. "Think about it!" Joonmyun calls out after Jongin, and Jongin only flashes two thumbs up at him and waves at him in reply.

When Soojung closes the door behind them, Jongin leans back against it and buries his face in his hands.

"Oh my God," he whispers, voice muffled by the press of his mouth to his skin. "I just befriended $uho."

♬ ♬ ♬

The bell gives off a shrill ring and Jongin sinks in his seat, throwing his head back a little. He'd gone to his Semiotics class right after his Introduction to Sound class and really, who makes these schedules? Semiotics isn't a subject meant to be taken during siesta period or in the afternoon leading to the sunset. At one point, you'll just find yourself staring at the window and asking, is this really the sun setting or is this my vision of the setting sun? School fucks up with your brain sometimes; in Jongin's case, it fucks up with his brain and the rest of his body every single day.

If you have any questions on the subject, you can ask me, comes Joonmyun's voice in his head. He giggles but quickly clasps his hand over his mouth. If he wants to be a student taken seriously by professors and fellow students, alike, then he can't be caught giggling in a classroom that is slowly being vacated by classmates. He fixes his things, then, slips the handout that was given to them earlier between the sheets of his notebook and places it inside his file case. He can worry about the file case bulging later. Right now, he has to address his growling stomach.

The trip to the cafeteria isn't the toughest path. He doesn't get lost, for one, thanks to the easy-to-read signs from the classroom to the cafeteria, and he pays close attention to his surroundings this time, too. When Soojung dragged him to the Broadcasting building earlier, half of his mind was still stuck in his History of Film class and figuring out the proper answer to Jinki's question, "Why film?" He's got to have a better reason than wanting to have a Youtube channel of his own and to do a DJing program of his own online, just like $uho. It's not as if his professor knows who $uho is; and on the off-chance that Jinki does know $uho, Jongin wouldn't really be so open to discussing the many reasons why $uho is the best thing since sliced bread.

He cranes his necks as he checks each dish, then orders ramyun, a generous serving of kimchi, and an equally big serving of mulmandu. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of his ramyun as the bowl is set on his tray, then takes a few bills from his wallet to pay for his meal. This is better than the trash he'd been eating all those weeks when his life was 99% studying for Sooneung and 1% taking either a piss or a dump.

"I was convinced you wanted to eat a light dinner until–" A soft chuckle, then some humming. "Until you asked for another order of mulmandu."

Jongin's eyes shoot up at the sound of the voice, and some of the hot steam from his ramyun slips between the thin space between his glasses and his eyes. He winces at the prickling sensation, but he has enough sense to step to his side before turning to check the source of the voice. It takes a while for his vision to refocus, but there's no mistaking that gentle smile and the cock of the eyebrow. He's spent years memorizing that face, albeit rougher, more… gangsta.

"Hyung," he says in acknowledgement. He takes a few more steps to his side, making way for Joonmyun to get to the counter to pay for his own meal. "You have night classes?"

"No, not at all. I just thought I'd grab some food before retreating to the club room." He cracks his neck, tilting his head to the left, then the right, and smiles when the lady at the cashier hands him his change. "Are you with anyone?"

"I'm alone. Haven't made much friends yet." More like, I was too engrossed in the lecture because while Semiotics is a complete mindfuck, it's fun. He's pretty sure he's one of the few people who emerged from that class unscathed. On the outside, at least. It's only the first day, though; Jongin can't be too sure. He can't let his guard down just yet. "You?"

"Same. Except my friends have night classes. They won't take the same slots as mine because I always take the morning ones." Joonmyun chuckles. He starts walking to one of the tables now, and Jongin picks up his own tray, trying his best to match. "Do you want to join me for dinner?"

Do you always speak so formally? Jongin wants to ask. Instead, he nods and follows Joonmyun to his seat.

Joonmyun isn't exactly quiet company during the meal. He fills silences with humming when he isn't chewing, and bobbing his head to some unknown music when he feels like it. It almost feels like Jongin forced his existence onto Joonmyun, forced Joonmyun to invite him to join him for dinner, but that's not the case. Or at least Jongin would like to think that it isn't the case because Joonmyun very well had the option of not making his existence behind Jongin in the line known.

He just wants to eat in peace, Jongin tells himself. Stop staring at him like you're expecting him to burst into song or give you a work-in-progress of his weekly top ten.

Joonmyun breaks the silence with light laughter that gains cadence after a while. "I'm sorry. I'm just not used to knowing people who… actually listen to $uho's stuff. I mean–" Stuff. Joonmyun said 'stuff'. Jongin's not sure if he likes it when Joonmyun isn't using formal language. It makes him sound so… unsure of himself. "How did you even come across those videos? The bit of info you dropped back there in the club room – that's from videos back in… 2010? 2011? Youtube's partnership program hadn't taken effect yet that time." Joonmyun chuckles. He seems to like doing that just to ease the tension of having to listen to white noise all the time. "How?"

"I was video hopping," Jongin confesses, doesn't say, I was hopping from one girl on girl tongue action video to another, and the one I was watching had Mousse T's 'Horny' as the background music. That you featured on your video that time. "Looking for new songs to jam to and stuff. And then your Mousse T 'Great Finds for Great Weekends' video popped up on the suggested videos panel and– Yeah."

Joonmyun nods, slow and deliberate, like he still can't believe that he's sitting opposite someone who has followed his Youtube career since Youtube was born. Or a year after Youtube was born, whatever. "Mousse T. Interesting," Joonmyun comments. "So you saw the Justin Bieber recommendations?"

Jongin almost snorts while sipping his soup. "I judged you at first, hyung, I really did."

"At first. That means you were convinced that they were good after a while?"

"Only 'Somebody to Love'," Jongin answers. "And only because you gave the listeners a link to a better cover. The Boyce Avenue one, I think? That was an interesting rendition."

The hard edges of Joonmyun's smile soften into light little upward curls. Jongin feels his insides turn a little, then do cartwheels when Joonmyun parts his lips, revealing white teeth. "Not the biggest fan of J. B. but that was a good track. Really hard to not get into that song."

"Or admit it, even." Jongin takes a piece of mulmandu and seethes when the heat from the small opening pricks his gums. "I have a friend who loves his music, though. He loved that feature of yours, by the way. Couldn't convert him to being your fan, though."

Joonmyun blinks at him a few times, tilting his head just a little, and laughs. He covers his mouth with his hand quickly, though, and soon the sweet laughter dissolves into thin air as Joonmyun gulps down hard. Great, Jongin. Way to make your idol feel awkward about the entire situation, he tells himself. Bangs his head against an imaginary wall or thunks his face in hot ramyun. The former is a better option; he paid for the noodles, after all.

"Maybe it's just not his thing?" Joonmyun says after a while. He pokes at his kimbap, then, and Jongin thinks, well, he probably can't stick to his too formal self forever. That's tiring. "I'm glad he liked the feature, though. Maybe I should–" He takes a sip of his water and licks his lips. "Maybe I should do that again."

"Maybe you shouldn't. His music's been taking a steady decline lately." Shame, Justin Bieber had a promising future, if you could look past the screechy voice. Whoops. "The new bands you're featuring are really great, though, hyung. Walk the Moon? Wouldn't have discovered them if it wasn't for your show."

Joonmyun chuckles. "'Shut Up and Dance' is a cute dance song. You should listen to their first full-length album. It's really great. Nice songs to drive along the highway to." Joonmyun takes a piece of kimbap and pops it in his mouth, then adds some kimchi to the mix. Right. Definitely losing the prim and proper mask now. Joonmyun looks up at him, then, and fixes him with a gaze. "Do you drive? Listen to the radio there or something?"

Jongin shakes his head, still in the middle of eating another piece of mulmandu. "Not really…? I've never had the chance to take lessons…"

"Ah. Well, you're young," Joonmyun replies. His voice drops down so low, barely above a whisper, but Jongin still manages to catch it.

He waits for a follow-up, an explanation behind the question, but Joonmyun says nothing. Instead, he turns his gaze back to his kimbap and the messy lump of kimchi on his plate. He laughs, then, like there's something so funny about a messy tray of food, but Jongin finds himself laughing, anyway. If Joonmyun ever asks him why he's laughing, he can always choke it up to Joonmyun's funny laughing face, the way his features contort when he scrunches his nose and closes his eyes as he throws his head back in a fit of laughter, the shrill sound trapped between his lips and the warm hand cupped over his mouth finally giving themselves away.

♬ ♬ ♬

Tuesday means there's only one class to attend, and that's early in the morning. It's a shitty 8 a.m. time slot, but he'll take that over a lone 3 p.m. schedule where he's just prolonging the agony of waiting for his once-a-week class to come and end quickly. He pokes his head inside the room and finds no one inside, not a single soul. It's understandable – when you take a class as early as this on your first week in university, chances are you'll be spending the first thirty minutes of the period waiting for the rest of the class to arrive and another thirty wishing your professor won't report to work so you can have a free period for the day.

He shuffles inside the room, then, and takes off his headphones, wearing them around his neck, instead. He turns up the volume when The Wanted comes on with 'Lightning'. It was drizzling earlier when he left the dorms. He looks outside the window, into the vacuum of space at the center of all the towering buildings. The rain pours even harder.

He doesn't realize he's already fallen asleep until he feels someone poking his shoulder, and then a soft whisper of, "Excuse me, is this TV and Media class?" He blinks a few times, then, trying to refocus his vision, and looks up to meet a pair of familiar, sleepy eyes. He knows this person from… yesterday, History of Film class. The guy who wanted to change the world. "Um, the course code is 1143–"

"Yeah, this is TV and Media class." He looks around, then, and finds one girl sitting at the far end of the room. He hates taking the seats at the back. Gives him an excuse to sleep in class. He can't afford that when he has a scholarship at risk. "Huang Zitao, right? From Film class?"

Zitao furrows his eyebrows, but smiles as soon as he pieces the information together. "Ah, yes! You're… Kim Jongin? The one who has a really bad–"

"Yeah, the username. I should really change that." He pulls out his phone from his pocket and creates a calendar reminder for it. Zitao takes the seat beside his but doesn't speak, only looks around and sits on his hands, deliberately missing Jongin's eyes. It's disconcerting at first, but Jongin gets it after a while. He would've gotten it sooner if he hadn't fallen asleep in class without their professor around. That would have been embarrassing. "You came alone? Didn't make any friends in class yesterday?"

Zitao shakes his head. He parts his lips to speaks, shuts them tight, then opens them again. He seems to be struggling with his words or maybe simply expressing himself in a foreign place. Jongin gets it, the feeling of not belonging to a group and having to adjust to change. It's twice as hard in Zitao's case, however – he has to conquer the language barrier and homesickness. Times like these, Jongin wishes he wasn't so averse to openly expressing adoration for anyone. A pat on the back would do, but even that he can't bringing himself to do for Zitao.

He tries a gentle poke on the arm. This coaxes a small smile and gentle laughter from Zitao. "I can be your translator. Although I'm shit at Mandarin."

"Ah, I know that word!" It's almost funny how Zitao's features brighten up at the mention of the curse word like it's offering him a taste of home. "Really? You're okay with that?"

"Sure," Jongin replies. He wears his best smile. The stretch at the corners feels a bit weird. He's never been the type to offer friendship. Most of the time, it's the other person approaching him and making small talk on all sorts of topics, then coaxing Jongin to drop bits and pieces of information about himself. And that's how people end up staying in his life – sharing a piece of themselves with Jongin in an attempt to make Jongin 'comfortable' about giving a piece of himself to others. It's Joonmyun dropping a short explanation on how he ended up being $uho, the internet celebrity, and Jongin letting Joonmyun know that, hey, hyung, I remember you talking about that in one of your first few videos.

"I mean, I could probably use a friend, too. It's… hard to survive school without a good set of friends." Jongin takes a deep breath and offers Zitao a smile. Zitao looks up at him with a familiar glint in his eyes, something akin to… hope? Or amusement? He can't tell at the moment. It's half past eight in the morning and it was probably a bad decision to take a nap while waiting for the professor because he can't even read Zitao's expression right now. He extends his hand in Zitao's direction, nonetheless. "Friends?"

The corners of Zitao's mouth tug up in a smile that reaches his eyes. He sort of smiles like Sehun when he's having too much fun or finds something cute. It's the same face that Sehun wore when the student council back in high school dressed Jongin up as a peashooter for Halloween. "Cute," Sehun had said then, and reached out to pinch Jongin's cheeks. He'd tugged hard on Jongin's skin until Jongin found it fitting to knee him in the groin. "Really cute."

A woman in heels then enters the room, the impact of her heels against the floor making a loud noise. "Good morning, class," she says. "So, you're only three here? Am I dropping the rest?"

Beside Jongin, Zitao whispers help in a weird mix of Mandarin and Korean. Jongin gets it, though – the furrow of the eyebrows is universal language for help, she's scary, I need someone to hold my hand through this thing–

The rest of the class appears just before professor – Kwon Boa, Jongin soon learns her name somewhere along her narration of her previous job as a media practitioner – expresses interest in dismissing the class of three early. "Couldn't risk to catch a cold just to get to class? I mean, c'mon, there's always these vitamin C supplements. Or multivitamins! Those are great!" she teases them, but there's no lilt in her tone, nothing but the way she drawls catch a cold hinting that she's telling a joke and not actually expecting the class to brave the heavy rainfall outside. To be fair, Jongin has seen most of these students during breakfast, has almost bumped into them while he was walking down the halls. If they really wanted to report to class on time then they really would find a way to work around the situation.

"But it was raining really hard, sonsaengnim," says one of the students who's soaked to the bone. Jongin hasn't seen this guy anywhere. Probably lives nearby if he had to take the hard beating of the rain just to get to school. In Jongin's mind, he screams, c'mon, kid, don't say anything you'll regret– "And vitamins only work when you're actually taking care of your body–"

"And that's exactly the kind of mentality that people these days, now blinded by advertising, no longer have," Boa says. "Very well, kid. What's your name?"

"Lee Taemin," he mumbles.

"Plus ten for you, Lee Taemin, for not falling prey to the evils of advertising. Yet." Boa winks. To the rest of the class, she says, "I want everyone to be as objective as Taemin when viewing ad materials – print, web, TV, radio, you name it. Because you know what? The reality is that media is slowly poisoning us. What we don't realize is that media has slowly become a tool for educating people, and!" She heaves a sigh, shaking her head dramatically. I bet 10,000 won she used to do theatre, Jongin thinks. "It's being misused. So as the next gatekeepers of media, I want you all be extra careful when studying ad materials. I want you to think twice before Googling what's-that-product that promises superior skin-germ protection on TV because maybe that's not the soap for people your age. It's the soap for kids who love frolicking in their backyards, playing on the ground and rolling around in dirt."

Jongin bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning. Beside him, Zitao lets out a sound of wonder. This professor is good.

"And plus ten for you, too, Kim Jongin. Kim Jongin, right?" Jongin nods when Boa locks eyes with him. "Because this kid was here thirty minutes before the class was even set to begin. I mean sure, he's probably just overeager, but at least I know he wants to learn and respects other people's time. Plus five for you, guy beside him and girl at the back, too."

Jongin feels his cheeks burn and feels Zitao gripping his wrist tightly. He shoots Zitao a glance and laughs a little when he whispers, "What if the others hate us for getting additional marks?"

"Then we'll just have to come in late next time," Jongin whispers right back. A smile breaks across Zitao's features as he furrows his eyebrows like he's saying, Don't be silly. That's not supposed to be an option. "Or never come in late and just rack up the points."

Zitao snickers. "Sounds like a plan."

TV and Media class feels too short for a three-hour class after Boa takes them through all these cool advertisements back in the 80's, then compares them with current commercials that, 50% of the time, have inserts of sexual innuendoes or plain in-your-face branding that's more annoying that effective. The bell rings just before they get to the last comparison, and Boa gives them the task of looking for ten poorly executed advertisements, "In print this time, not commercials. I want you to work with your hands and browse magazines, not e-zines." Boa waves a finger in the air. "And I will quiz you on the advertisements you pick so you better research on those well enough for next week's session, okay"

"I'm in love," Zitao coos beside Jongin. He turns to his side, meeting Jongin in the eyes, and takes a deep breath. "I regret nothing. I love Korea, I love this university, I love this subject–"

"Mr. Huang, it would be great if you could share with us advertisements from China, as well." Boa rests a hand on his shoulder and Zitao mouths, I'm going to dieeee. "Always good to go beyond our tiny Korean world and explore the world out there, yeah?"

"Yes, ma'am," Zitao replies, voice shaky but the smile on his lips bright and steady. "I'll do my best!"

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin disappears around the block after class, making his way to the main hall then to the student grants office. He was summoned earlier, through text, the head of the office saying Jongin was yet to fulfill all the requirements for the scholarship grant, and Jongin goes through a checklist in his head. He's sure he submitted everything – certified true copy of grades, the results of his physical exam, the signed form saying that he's not involved in any illegal activities– He couldn't have missed anything because he had Sehun double-check his requirements, too.

Jongin gulps hard and chuckles to himself. He'll have to message Sehun when he gets back to his room, check up and see how he's doing miles away from home. Sure, he said before that he wanted to study abroad and studying in the U.K. is his dream come true, but Jongin can't help but wonder how Sehun is doing. That kid's a cuddly bear disguised as a grizzly, after all.

"Ah. Jongin, great to see you," Mr. Shim, the head of the office, says. "Take a seat. This will be quick. Do you have a class after this?"

Funny they should ask since Jongin came to the university with his entire semester already planned out for him. He doesn't expect Mr. Shim to remember his schedule down to the last detail, though, so he shakes his head and smiles as he makes himself comfortable in his seat. He clasps his hands on his lap, clenches his fists, and takes a deep breath, then twists his torso so that he's facing Mr. Shim. "I'm only planning to go to the library, sir. Go through the magazines there. Our professor in TV and Media wants us to look for badly done print ads."

"Boa? I mean Ms. Kwon?" Mr. Shim asks. Jongin nods. "Ah. She hasn't changed."

Jongin wants to press and ask more, but Mr. Shim turns his attention to two stapled papers on his right. He hands it to Jongin, then leans closer, shifting in his seat as he does so. "I summoned you here for one simple reason, and that's because you've yet to return to us with the name of the organization you'll be joining as a requirement for the scholarship. Remember, you signed the contract. We need you to accomplish this membership form by the end of the week. Just an expression on intent to join will do, but you will have to coordinate with the moderator or the club head of the org you're planning to join to get their signature here. Then we'll keep in touch with you on the progress of your application."

But it hasn't even been a week since school started? Jongin wants to say. Instead, he replies, "Ah, that's right… Sorry for my negligence."

Mr. Shim waves a hand. "It's okay. I forgot this shit, too, back when I was studying." He takes a deep breath then stretches his arms in front of him, almost knocking over the cup of pens to his right. "Cut it too close to the deadline but I managed to make it, in the end."

Jongin cocks an eyebrow, then promptly remembers that he's right in front of Shim Changmin, one of the biggest names in Math and Science back when he was still in middle school – he remembers seeing Mr. Shim's name in books. He sits up, then, snaps up his spine, and nods in thought, instead. "Wow."

"Sometimes we get too engrossed in studying that we forgot the... side projects, I'll call them that. Things of interest that are a bit related to what we're actually studying. That was how I ended up in the yearbook committee at first before moving to Yonsei's debate society." Mr. Shim laughs a little. "Not that you needed to know but – So, Jongin, I'll expect your membership intent form on Friday, at the latest? Have you given it thought yet, which club to join?"

"Well, there is one. The only one," Jongin begins. He takes a deep breath. "But I'm not sure yet if I should join it? I mean... It will contribute little to my academics?" Bullshit. He gulps hard. "I... guess? " He scratches the tip of his nose and he feels his palms getting sweaty. He can't risk this, not right now, when he has to practice his drawing skills for storyboarding class tomorrow. That's what the course information said in the website, at least – that students have to at least know how to make clear and understandable illustrations for storyboarding purposes. "It's pretty interesting, though."

"The mere fact that it's the only one you're considering says a lot," Mr. Shim says. He cocks both eyebrows at Jongin, then, and says, "Why don't you give it a shot?"

Because he's not sure how he'll do in the recording booth knowing that his online career idol and life peg might walk in on him and might laugh at him when he stumbles on his words? Because he's supposed to be focusing on producing sound, not thinking of doing all these little DJ spiels with Joonmyun in the booth, because he chose to major in film? There are a lot of reasons, but all of them are far outweighed by the fact that getting into broadcasting might do him well. Might earn him a ticket to a good job in the big networks, even, since it's the standard path aspiring filmmakers take before venturing into media or agency work, then establishing their own production companies.

"I'll think about it," he says, doesn't say, this is really silly but I don't want Joonmyun-hyung to laugh at me. Or $uho, whatever name he wants to go by. They're the same banana, albeit a bit different. Maybe Joonmyun is the Senorita and $uho is the Cavendish. "I'll go to the club room later to... ask around or something. I'll definitely get back to you with the signed membership intent form, sir."

Mr. Shim smiles at him. "Great. That's all I needed to know."

Jongin pushes himself off his seat and bows in Mr. Shim's direction, then leaves the room the soonest he can.

When he gets back to his dorm room, he fishes for his phone and pulls up Viber as soon as sees the connected notification on his screen. Two messages from Sehun come in, one of them a picture of his dorm room in U.K., and the other a picture of the campus. It's bigger than K-ARTS, and Sehun looks so small being eaten up whole by all the buildings towering over him. He looks... out of place. Like the country is chomping off a bit of his hair with every intake of breath. Like doesn't belong there.

Another message comes in, saying, u probably wudve liked it here uknow? i mean uve always lovd trees and stuff yeah. message me when u c this? miss u kid c:

Jongin allows himself to fall back into his bed, pillows swallowing the small sound of distress that gets caught at the back of his throat.

It isn't everyday that Sehun displays affection through the written word. He has a thing against it, against leaving proof of his tender heart, and while Jongin knows that Sehun will maim him if he ever found out that Jongin has an entire folder dedicated just to those kinds of messages, screen captures of them, he doesn't still doesn't delete them. One day, they'll look back at these messages and maybe laugh. Sehun is shit at being subtle. Jongin is shit at feigning nonchalance everytime Sehun drops a casual miss u kid.

sry it's crazy busy here at school :| i have a free day now!! just finished class hehe but i have to go check w d broadcasting club later.

He sees Sehun go online again, then taps his thumb on the edge of the screen. He hesitates for a moment, then types, met $uho already haha. remember wat u said b4 that he's probs some weird dude w/o friends? well he has friends but he doesn't have $uho's swag irl

lol u shittin me man r u srs? as in THE $UHO?? who made a bieber feature? :o

yup one and the same ;) Jongin laughs a little then turns over to lie flat on his stomach. and lol guess wat he's in d broadcasting club JUST LIKE HE SAID IN HIS VIDEO HAHA i thot he was making that up!!

He didn't. Or maybe he did. At one point, he'd like to think that his obsession with knowing this online persona, with being exactly like him, ate up all semblance of logic and sense in his brain. And then he graduated from his days of naivety and discovered that anyone can edit information in Wikipedia. It is called a wiki for a reason, after all. At least he knows the truth now, and Joonmyun hadn't even tried to deny that he is $uho. It's not as if it made any sense that he'd lie to Jongin any further – Jongin clearly knew his life story from the inside and out. It was only a matter of time until he found the strange overlaps between $uho's press release online and Joonmyun's life tidbits.

He turns over again so that he's lying flat on his back, then lays his phone face down on his stomach when Sehun's reply doesn't come in within the next fifteen seconds. Maybe Sehun stepped out of his dorm to grab something to eat. Maybe he fell asleep. It's ass o' clock in U.K. right now, after all. The time difference sucks; the distance, even more.

gonna step out now bud, catch u again sumtym?? ig i'll try out in the broadcasting club bec i need an org for the scholarship.
HUHUHU WISH ME LUCK :(((

He slips his phone under his pillow and fixes his eyes on the ceiling. The silence between them, the long wait, and the knowledge that the crap about distance making the heart grow fonder? That only works when both parties have a mutual agreement that they do have each other's hearts. Sehun has his; he has Sehun's number and the honor of being #1 on Sehun's speed dial. Only just.

♬ ♬ ♬

He wakes up two hours after, sweat trickling down the curve of his face and his shirt feeling sticky and icky against his skin. He'd forgotten to turn on the aircon before falling asleep, having jumped straight to bed after checking if the wifi was on. He fishes for his phone from under his pillow, then, checking for a response from Sehun, but to no avail – Sehun hasn't replied yet and hasn't even viewed the message yet.

Screw timezones and time differences, Jongin thinks. He pushes himself off his bed in one fluid motion, the falls back into his bed to lie on his stomach. Five more minutes.

When he finally brings himself to take a shower and change into fresh clothes, it's already three in the afternoon. It's a weird time to be heading to the club room – he isn't counting on anyone to be there are this hour since 3-hour classes in the afternoon, the first slew, end at 4 p.m.. He trudges to the cafeteria, then, grabbing a quick snack, then drops by the library. He'd intended to go earlier to browse a few magazines for his TV and Media class but Mr. Shim just had to summon him to remind him about the club membership. He contemplates texting Soojung, then – she'd given him her number before parting ways with her yesterday – but he wouldn't want her to get into trouble in the middle of class. For all he knows, Soojung might be facing some terror teacher right now and she might get a few points of demerit if she so much as checks her phone for an incoming message. There are scary professors like those, some more terrifying than the others. Boa started out exactly like that but ended up being the best professor he's encountered so far.

He recalls Zitao's smile that time, when Boa rested a hand on his shoulder. You can't fall in love with someone after having just met them, he wanted to argue then, but maybe that's just him. Maybe Zitao isn't so jaded about liking people just yet, hasn't had his heart broken. Lucky kid, he thinks, but at the same time, poor kid.

He stops somewhere between the aisles with books on media and communication theories and the history of film. He makes a left turn, then, perusing the book titles one by one, running a hand through the spine of the books.

"Oh, hello," comes a familiar voice. Jongin looks over his shoulder and really, they should stop meeting like this. It makes Joonmyun look like some creepy stalker when it's probably the other way around. "You're looking at... media theory books?"

"Hi, hyung," Jongin says as a greeting. He shows Joonmyun the book he'd grabbed from the shelf, then – the history of film in pictures, with a side-by-side comparison with the films of today. "Figured I'd do some light reading for film class."

Joonmyun snorts. It sounds weird coming from him, Kim Joonmyun decked in a polo shirt buttoned up all the way, and dark jeans. "That's not light reading. I read that before. On a whim. I may or may not have regretted checking out the book somewhere along the way."

Jongin laughs a little. "Aren't you, I dunno, supposed to be some model student who likes every single book out there, hyung? The Kim Joonmyun of the broadcasting club, talking shit about a film book?"

Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow at him, but the hard corners of his lips soften into an easy smile. "I like how you say my name. Makes me feel important," he says. He chuckles, then, "And don't exaggerate – I haven't read all the books yet. Maybe 75%. Still a long way to go."

Makes me feel important, Joonmyun's voice echoes in his mind. It sounds nothing like $uho's weird rapping and the way he talks to his online subscribers. This is Kim Joonmyun, the student who's passionate about broadcasting, not $uho, the online sensation. The only overlap is their love for music, but that isn't something you can rip from Joonmyun's soul or $uho's identity. It's like music has been ingrained in them already, like they're born with it.

This is Kim Joonmyun, Jongin's supposed life peg and career idol, dissuading him from picking up a book for 'a bit of light reading'. It makes him want to do exactly that, except he has to read this at all costs. "My 1% is nothing compared to your 75%, hyung," he retorts. He risks a glance at Joonmyun again, then says, "And your name has a nice ring to it. Rolls nicely off the tongue. It's... a nice combination of syllables."

That actually sounds stupid, Jongin hears a voice in his brain that sounds a lot like Sehun's. Or his own. He can't tell right now. The aircon is blowing down at the crown of his head and he's sensitive there.

"Well, thank you," Joonmyun replies, voice dropping down to a whisper. There's a small smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth, pulling up at his cheeks. Joonmyun is pressing his lips together so tightly, though, like he doesn't want to give himself away yet. "First time I've heard that. I don't think anyone has given enough time to study the way the... syllables of my name sound together?"

"I do it when I'm bored," Jongin confesses. He clutches the book he'd gotten earlier close to his chest. "Maybe I should do a study on that. Or an analysis of how the way people say someone's name affects the person's mood or overall perspective of life–"

"That would be interesting as a graduate thesis but I think that's better suited for a psych major?" Joonmyun laughs a little. "You've got a lot of things going on in that wild mind of yours. It's… pretty amazing."

Pretty amazing! Something in Jongin jumps, hops, hobbles and stumbles, landing flat on his ass. Right now, he's just glad it's not him or something Joonmyun can see unfold before his eyes. "Right. I'll definitely need someone to guide me during thesis." He chuckles. "I mean, I have these really weird ideas that can work sometimes but I just have to have someone to tell me what works and what doesn't? What–" He smoothens the crease on the plastic covering of the book and thinks, well, this can be a behavioral study, too, reflex fixing. Focus, Jongin. Focus! "My best friend was a lot of help when I was trying to decide on a university to try out for. And in picking a course. I knew what I wanted then but I was so much better in other things, so–"

"So you're here now, in K-ARTS, doing something you could possibly fall in love with." Joonmyun smiles as he ends, voice trailing off into a soft hum. It's almost as if Joonmyun hates silence, prefers to have even the faintest sound running in the background to save him from the pain of listening to white noise. "You do like film, right? Even if it seems like you're more… I don't know, fascinated with sounds? Music?"

Well you're here in front of me. What would you expect? Jongin wants to say. Instead, he says, "I like it a lot. Enough for me to…" He laughs a little at the memory of playing around with MovieMaker at three in the morning. "Enough for me to use MovieMaker for a project back in high school even if it crashed, like, thrice? Four times?"

Joonmyun grimaces, the soft upward pull at the corners of his lips tugging down to a scowl. "Oh God, that's awful. How did you even manage?"

"Patience, hyung. Patience." Jongin nods, slow, almost solemn. The mere memory of it makes him question his own threshold for video-induced pain. "Well, I'm patient with stuff that involves my hands?"

Joonmyun furrows his eyebrows for a moment, and then he's smiling again, a peculiar upward tug on the curl of his lips. His eyes are squinted like he's trying to figure something out, but he isn't scrutinizing Jongin. Studying, maybe, but studying what? Jongin's weird use of words that makes people doubt if he's actually the class valedictorian? His fast-changing facial expressions? The push and pull of worry and panic and feigned calmness in his features? Jongin can't figure out at the moment. All he knows is that Joonmyun is staring at him with the funniest glimmer in his eyes. Like there's something truly interesting about Jongin that he wants to spend a bit more time observing.

"I meant art stuff. I do that with my hands." He tucks the book in his arm and holds up both of his arms. "Hands? See? Art hands?"

Joonmyun blinks, and then it's gone, the peculiar look now replaced by his usual expression. "I get. You're good with your hands, Jongin."

Jongin digs his hands into his pockets and nods. "Great. You're good at this catching on thing," he mumbles. He turns to his side, facing the books again. At least books won't judge him and laugh at him. At least he doesn't have a reason to panic in the face of books. He traces the spine of one on media theories and asks Joonmyun, "Have you read this one, hyung?"

Joonmyun takes a few steps forward, inching closer to Jongin, and Jongin tries hard not to laugh when he sees Joonmyun tiptoeing. It's cute. Imagine your idol tiptoeing just so he can take a peek at something over your shoulder. Imagine your idol almost tripping over, then imagine him holding onto your arm for balance, grip so tight you can feel his nails dig into your skin. Imagine the thumping in his chest beating against your skin because he's so close, and Joonmyun's so damn close to him now, hot breath fanning on Jongin's skin, tickling and prickling him and sending a funny sizzle of heat down his abdomen.

Joonmyun whispering, "What is it?" as he inches closer, lips brushing against the back of Jongin's ear. Joonmyun leaning even closer, and Jongin trying very hard to not bury his nose in Joonmyun's hair that smells a lot like eucalyptus. Heck, eucalyptus isn't even supposed to be romantic or allude to anything nice and sweet and heart-thumping.

Jongin pulls out the book with a shaky hand and says, "This one."

It takes a while for Joonmyun to pull away, even snaking a hand between Jongin's waist and his arm to draw the book closer to his face. Jongin tries hard not to look to his side but how can he not when Joonmyun is breathing against his skin, the steady ride and fall of his chest burning a weird sensation where their bodies are pressed? How can he when Joonmyun is humming in his ear and chuckling as he reads the write up at the back? How can he when Joonmyun is touching him, returning the book to him and saying, "This one's okay. It's a breeze to read. I was able to finish it in half a day without distractions. Then again, it was summer when I picked that up."

I don't have to know that? a voice at the back of Jongin's mind screams. He really doesn't have to . All he needs right now is for Joonmyun to take five full steps away so Joonmyun won't see his fingers trembling, won't feel his knees shaking or the quickening pulse on his palm. "Oh."

"Oh you're going to check it out? Or oh that's too bad, you were looking for a more exciting read?"

Oh, I actually feel sad now that you're not rubbing up against me anymore? is the most accurate answer, but Jongin doesn't say it. Instead, he says, "Oh, in that case I'll know how to spend the rest of my day today?"

Joonmyun chuckles and takes a few more steps back, then pulls his shoulders back. "You really love studying, don't you?"

Iloveyourvoice, he almost croaks. He nods in reply, instead, and turns his attention back to the shelves, seeking salvation, but it doesn't come. Joonmyun invites him for late lunch because, "I can hear your tummy grumbling, Jongin. Don't deny it. Come on, my treat." He has two mottos in life: when life gives you free food, don't say no; and when the free food turns out to be great, be sure to pay back the person in kind, never in cash. That's rude. Also, food is easier to accept.

So after late lunch and after Joonmyun introduces him to his weird 'kimchi-stuffed mulmandu', Jongin asks, "Have dinner with me, hyung?" because it's the only logical thing to do, right? When someone does you a favor, you do your best to thank the person. In this case, food is the best medium. Joonmyun's lips fall open into a small 'o'. Jongin waits for it, the sound of rejection, the 'I'm sorry but you're not cool enough for me to hang out with you too many times in a week', but it doesn't come. Instead, Joonmyun squints, chuckles, laughs at him, then clasps a hand on his mouth. He shakes his head like he's trying to say it's not what you think, but then Jongin can't think of anything at the moment. It's not as if Joonmyun will allow him, with the way heat glued their thighs together under the table or the way Joonmyun wraps his fingers around Jongin's wrist as he shakes his head, again and again, to the easy rhythm of his laughter.

"I'm sorry. That was just so… abrupt? I… didn't see that coming." Joonmyun takes a sip of his water but doesn't let go on Jongin yet, keeps his hand there, pressed against Jongin's skin. "Sure thing. I'll just… have to head to the club room in a while? And maybe stay there for an hour? Residency stuff." 'Stuff'! He said 'stuff' again! "Then we can meet here for dinner?"

"Oh. Right. Broadcasting club." He promptly remembers the membership intent form that he has to fill out and submit at the end of the week. "Can I come with you? I… And um, can you… run me through what you guys do there? Because I might be interested to join. Y'know. Scholarship stuff." He gulps hard and contemplates on choking on mulmandu, instead. "It's a requirement."

Joonmyun chuckles, then slowly unwraps his fingers from Jongin's wrist. Jongin wants to say don't!, but instead he bites the inside of his cheek and waits for Joonmyun's answer. "Ah sure, no problem. I can even show you some behind-the-scenes videos of the past two broadcasting weeks that we did. It's really exciting!"

"Oh yeah, Soojung mentioned that. Said she was part of the… second one?"

"She was in charge of getting special guests that year. Drove her insane but she did admit to enjoying it." Joonmyun hums. "Maybe you can do that this year if you do join. Or maybe…" Joonmyun purses his lips. "Maybe you'd be better manning the booth or hosting the program." Joonmyun finishes with a smile.

"I'll take the booth," Jongin replies. He summons his best smile. "If I get in."

"You will. I have faith in you," Joonmyun declares, like he just knows Jongin won't screw up and won't stumble on his words. Like he knows Jongin inside and out. There's something in the undertone of his voice that fuels Jongin a little, though, like he can actually be that guy behind the microphone, talking to all the students of K-ARTS through the PA system. "You'll pull through."

"I'll do my best?" Jongin tries. Joonmyun frowns at him. It's not a nice look on him.

"Don't let me down, kid," Joonmyun answers. He gives Jongin's hand a light pinch then pops the last piece of kimchi on his plate in his mouth.

Jongin takes a deep breath, swallows hard, and nods slowly until he can convince himself that he can make it through the test. Keeps his eyes glued to Joonmyun's own because he doesn't have a choice – Joonmyun has pinned him in place with his stare and the soft smile at the corners of his mouth and his faith in Jongin, those four words stinging more than they should – Don't let me down, kid. So Jongin clenches his fists and promises, to himself and to Joonmyun, that he will pull off a miracle and do something great even if he knows nothing about broadcasting outside of what he's read in text books.

"I won't let you down," he says.

"I know you won't," Joonmyun whispers. "I'm certain."

♬ ♬ ♬

Joonmyun holds the door open for Jongin and shuts it behind him with a soft thud. With the afternoon sun shining beyond the window and the lights here not yet turned on, the room takes on a different look. It's softer, less of the serious club room Jongin had seen earlier and more of a shelter from the noise outside. The acoustics here are great – none of the noise beyond the door, the noise of the students passing by the corridor not seeping through the walls. "I love this place. This kind of silence always helps me think," Joonmyun says, then, and lays his bag down on the table. He stretches his arms in front of him, then behind him, fingers locked. Jongin catches the dull 'popping' of his bones. "It's just… the right amount of quiet."

"Yeah. Sometimes silence can be a bit overwhelming," Jongin whispers, then sets his own bag down on the couch. He makes his way to where Joonmyun is, then, but Joonmyun shakes his head, mouths, stay. Jongin tosses his bag on a different chair, then, making space for Joonmyun, "Won't you need the desk, hyung?"

"A laptop is called a lap-top for a reason," Joonmyun argues, then plops down on the empty space beside Jongin. He lays his computer on his lap, then, and Jongin only rolls his eyes. "I find that studying in a relaxed set up helps me absorb information better. I don't know with you, but I know a handful of my friends find the same method effective."

Jongin nods in thought and remembers seeing Soojung sitting on the floor with her legs folded under her weight one time. Her position looked so uncomfortable then but the darting of her eyes from left to right made it seem like she had no difficulty studying that way at all. It makes sense – when you're forcing layers upon layers of data to stick to your brain, the least you could do is to fool your body into thinking that you're relaxed. So the information gets retained easier, stays there in your mind for an extended period of time. It's a win-win situation.

Joonmyun drums his fingers as the laptop boots up, then types his password on the text box. He turns to Jongin with a smile, then asks, "Okay. What do you want to know about the broadcasting club?"

I want to know more about you, would be the appropriate answer, but he doesn't want Joonmyun to drop his laptop. It's much too expensive. So he says, instead of dropping that comment, "What's a normal meeting day like, I guess? And the activities you guys do leading up to broadcasting week? Because that's the culminating activity, right? Or at least the most important club activity?" He scrunches his nose, dissatisfied with his own answer. He's sure he wants to get more information out of this, but he just can't think straight at the moment. Too full from his meal, he can feel his eyes giving away and drooping. Pulling at his cheeks so he can relax his muscles and maybe sink into the couch and fall asleep– "Soojung mentioned trainings and workshops. I'm… really interested in those things."

"A normal meeting day?" Joonmyun purses his lips in thought. "Well, Thursday is club day so everybody meets here at five in the afternoon. Gets together for some drinks – and I mean warm lemon and honey juice, because we have to take extra care of our throats. Even the non-broadcasting majors have developed a habit of not taking cold drinks!" Joonmyun exclaims. He seems so proud of himself; Jongin is amused. "At the end of the session, we take a shot of whiskey. Since we're less than ten people total, a bottle of whiskey lasts us a month or two."

"A shot of whiskey?" Jongin furrows his eyebrows. "Isn't that old people drink?"

"It's sore throat's worst enemy," Joonmyun states, ending with a slow nod.

Jongin cocks an eyebrow. "Hmm. Okay, then. A shot of whiskey. Drinking aside, though, what else do you do on meeting days?"

Joonmyun talks about the members sharing new music with each other, talking about broadcasting styles of famous newscasters on TV and even on radio. "We do practice broadcasting, too, in the booth. Every other week, two people board and the rest shoot them questions between segments, testing how quick they can come up with a response. That's very important if you're planning to be a radio DJ. Quick thinking and wit – those are key is sustaining the interest of your listeners. So the white noise? We try to minimize that. Eliminate it altogether, if we can." Joonmyun turns to look at his monitor for a while, navigating to a file within too many folders. "But if it's unavoidable, we just… try to make all sorts of sounds."

Hence the humming, Jongin says in his mind. He nods and hums. "That makes a lot of sense. But…" He tilts his head a little and tries to recall one of those 'How to Be a Great DJ in 10 Steps!!!' videos he's watched before. "The 'um's and the 'uh's, those are speech crutches, right? I mean you can use those to drawl out sounds and stuff but wouldn't that violate, I dunno, some sort of code in proper broadcasting?"

"Yes, and no," Joonmyun replies. He clicks the file twice, then drags it to the VLC Player icon when it doesn't load properly. "Yes, we can't use it, and no, while it's really bad practice to use speech crutches even in the tightest of times, you won't be penalized for it. Just… Well, can you live with the thought that you did that online? Uuuh, about that question of yours–" Joonmyun tilts his head from side to side as he modifies his voice. "What I think about it is that, uuuum–"

"Okay, that's just bad," Jongin says, laughing a little.

"Exactly. It's awful. So while you won't violate any broadcasting rule by doing it, you'll be penalized by losing listeners because nobody likes a DJ who wastes air time. Also, you might lose advertisers."

"Oh right, advertisers. Do you practice spiels for those, too? Like, voice-overs for TV commercials and actual radio commercials?"

"Ah, now that's where a bit of voice acting experience comes into play." Joonmyun drops a hand on Jongin's thigh, then gives it a light squeeze. "Come closer. I'll show you how we did it before. This is the actual broadcast that was shown in TVs all around the campus last year. Notice how facial expressions make a lot of difference when delivering lines."

Jongin stiffens for a moment, but he slides closer nonetheless. Their thighs are pressed together now, and Jongin can feel even the lightest shifting of Joonmyun's muscles. It's crazy. He should be a sound expert, not an expert in Joonmyun's muscle movement. He should be–

"Focus, Jongin," Joonmyun whispers. He rests a hand on Jongin's knee and rubs slow circles with his thumb. "You won't regret watching this. It will help you a lot during your qualifying test."

His vision whites out for a second, but soon he's back and blinking at the screen, trying to focus. The black panel fades into a colorful footage of the sound booth inside. It looks a bit different, what with the colorful art card at the back that has the name of the show on it. Love, Love, Love it says in chunky Hangeul, and the host points at the board behind him and his partner before addressing the camera with a wave.

"It's you," Jongin mumbles, pointing at Joonmyun on the screen. Joonmyun only chuckles in response as Soojung walks into the frame for a second, headphones worn over her head, then leaves as soon as she's handed them rolled up sheets of paper. "Soojung was the sound director?"

"For that particular day, yes. It's our last day. The sound director caught a cold then. Hadn't been sleeping for too many nights already." Joonmyun laughs at the memory, like there's something so fascinating with the fact that the direction fell sick just as broadcasting week was about to end. He chokes at the last bout of laughter, though. "Soojung shone in this show, though. We ran into a lot of technical difficulties but she handled it with ease even if she was still nursing an injured back then."

The Joonmyun in the video clasps a hand on his partner's shoulder, then cocks his head to the side. He isn't saying anything, but it looks as if he's trying to convince the guy, don't worry. You won't blow it. You'll do great. It seems to be a habit of his, placing so much confidence and faith in people. It's a sin. Jongin refocuses on the video when Joonmyun holds up his hand, counting down – 3… 2… 1… – then claps his hands together before leaning closer to the microphone.

Good morning, Korea National University of Arts! It's a wonderful summer morning and it's the last day of the week. You're probably cramming requirements, praying to the gods that today's exam will go right, praying for the best. We know how that feels, living on the edge and living with danger during these final days of the semester. The Joonmyun in the video pauses, then takes a deep breath. And because we do, we know the perfect playlist for you to get your wheels turning and make this cramming period the best possible day in your semester yet.

That's the silliest, corniest spiel ever, Jongin wants to say, but he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't able to relate with that statement. It's so simple that maybe even grade schoolers can connect with it, that even those who aren't exactly studying but are working on something and have been given tight deadlines might even be able to relate. Simple words, Jongin takes note of that. Use simple words for maximum impact.

He leans closer and worries his bottom lip as the video plays on, the show unfolding in front of him through Joonmyun's laptop screen.

They discuss simple topics – student life, music that can get you pumped for your last few exams, and then music that can help you relax after the whole tirade tides over. I personally like listening to Michael Buble, Joonmyun says in the video, and Jongin sneaks a glance at Joonmyun, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Seriously, hyung. Michael Buble?"

"Don't burst my bubble," Joonmyun mutters. "I like his voice. It helps me sleep at night."

That makes a lot of sense. Michael Buble does have a soothing voice, and Jongin supposes some people just can't relax to bubbly songs like that of Taylor Swift's (absolute favorite) and the few upbeat ones of Gabrielle Aplin's. He listens to Josh Groban from time to time, but by the end of a track he usually feels like crying especially when he plays You're Still You. In his defense, it's a song loaded with so many emotions that they leak on his skin and from the corners of his eyes. He doesn't cry; he just expresses his emotions through the slow falling of tiny beads of water from the corners of his eyes. Those aren't tears.

"Oh, there's Josh Groban," he whispers when Joonmyun mentions him in the video. It's Joonmyun's turn to cock an eyebrow at him as if asking, really? You listen to Josh Groban?

"Don't burst my bubble, hyung," Jongin says. He sticks out his tongue. "I like his voice better than Buble's. Martin Nievera's voice, though. Wow."

Joonmyun hits the space bar and shifts in his position to look at Jongin. Their knees bump, and the jolt of electricity at the contact of their bones numbs Jongin's thighs. He gasps a little. "You listen to Martin Nievera?"

"A few of his songs. This and that." Jongin looks away. There's nothing wrong about liking obscure artists! Nievera's pretty popular in the Philippines, though, and his concerts are always sold-out–

"That's amazing. I don't think I've met anyone who's into OPM," Joonmyun whispers. Soon, laughter bubbles on his lips, teases a smile out of him. It reaches the corners of Joonmyun's eyes and makes them crinkle and Jongin thinks, Oh. That's cute. "You've got great taste in music, Jongin. You really should share that with others. It's always great to share wonderful music with people. You'll never know when they need it."

"I… found him through your Gary V recommendation," Jongin confesses. He looks to his side, then fixes his eyes on his feet. He catches sight of the loose knot of his shoelaces and the worn out soles. He should buy a new pair soon, maybe as a two-months-after-his-birthday present. He only got himself ice cream on his birthday because he was too busy coming up with his spiels for the video he submitted to K-ARTS. "And then everything went downhill from there. Spent a few good hours on Youtube just hopping from one video to another. So I found out about MYMP and Up Dharma Down and Bamboo and–"

"The same way that you found my channel, right?" Joonmyun asks. The smile on his lips turns into a weird twist of the mouth, like he doesn't know if he should smile or grin or laugh or whatever. "You said you were video-hopping that time and you were looking for the Mousse T song–"

Do not mention the Mousse T song because that brings back memories of my sordid affair with my laptop, hyung. "Right! Mousse T! Amazing artist!" Jongin laughs a little, but for the most part it comes out as dry chuckles. Or hiccups. "Yeah, like that. And the rest is history!"

Joonmyun's gaze lingers a little longer, then he shifts in his seat again, leaning back into the pillow. "Okay, then," he whispers, then hits the space bar again. "Back to the program."

Jongin nods in agreement and leans closer to get a better view of the footage. Big mistake, he tells himself as he catches a whiff of Joonmyun's shampoo. Eucalyptus shouldn't remind him of Joonmyun, shouldn't have this effect – cold fingers, a loud thumping in his chest – on his body. Eucalyptus has a relaxing scent, not a stimulating one.

The video culminates in a song and dance number from the two hosts – Jongin forgot the name of the other guy but it sounds a lot like 'Lay'? Like the chips, only singular. He can make out Soojung clapping her hands in the air as in urging the staff and the audience to do the same, and then Lay leans closer to his microphone, starts serenading the audience to a ballad in Chinese. His voice is soft, sweet, the type that is so easy to listen to and get lost in, an easy tune that is nice to listen to while having tea in the afternoon. Jongin finds himself nodding in appreciation, swaying in his seat, and it isn't until halfway through the presentation that he realizes that Lay had harmonized with Joonmyun earlier, and that Joonmyun is singing the same song under his breath.

"You sing, hyung?" Jongin asks, voice soft and faint so as to not startle Joonmyun. "Hyung, you sound great!"

Great is an understatement – Joonmyun sounds amazing. There's uncertainty in Joonmyun's voice, he can hear it, but the timbre and the tone of his voice is nice, easy to sing along with, easy to fall in love with. It's the type of voice you'd like to hear in the morning, while having coffee, or exactly the type of tone that you want to listen to after a long and draining day. Joonmyun seems to think otherwise, though, because he stops singing and humming and pauses the video with a press of the space bar.

"Only sometimes. But I don't, if I can avoid it," Joonmyun mumbles. He scrubs to the last part of the broadcast where Lay is delivering his spiel and Joonmyun thanks the audience and the school management for supporting their project. There's a light tremble in Joonmyun's fingers, but only just; if anything, it might have only been Jongin's imagination. He'd yawned earlier when Joonmyun balled his hand into fists at the start of the video; that must have fucked up his vision.

Joonmyun turns to him again, with a bright smile this time, and an expression in his eyes so unreadable. An unfamiliar glint that washes the color off of Joonmyun's features, that makes him look three years older and completely unlike the sunshine-bright person who'd walked in on him and Soojung in the booth earlier this week. It makes him look different – not quite Joonmyun, but not entirely $uho – but Jongin can still make out hints of Joonmyun in the practiced smile on his lips, the tight corners of his mouth. The tight knot of his tie and the way the sleeves of his polo aren't rolled up.

"Do you want to watch another video?" Joonmyun asks. He pulls up the folder of sound recordings and scrolls through the files. "I have a few more here. Maybe you'd want something different? The voice acting seminar? Since that's the main reason you displayed interest in the club and Soojung said–"

Jongin wants to see that carefree person in the video again, wants to hear Joonmyun sing because he sounded so happy that time, like he didn't have a care in the world if he had a reputation to uphold or if he didn't get his Mandarin pronunciation right. He needs to find that old Joonmyun somewhere in the present, in the person beside him right now whose fingers are hovering the trackpad while Joonmyun searches for another video to play.

"Can I join the broadcasting club, hyung?" Jongin blurts out. He takes a deep breath, surprised at this own recklessness, but he finds himself repeating the statement, this time louder, with more conviction. You'll notice that the facial expression makes all the difference in delivery, Jongin. "Hyung, can I join the broadcasting club?"

Joonmyun blinks a few times. "This is about the scholarship requirement, isn't it?" He laughs a little. "Back in the day, when I was still in first year, we were required to join at least one organization because–"

"Because students who have graduated at the top 10% of the entire country's population are supposed to know how to balance academics and extra-curricular activities, yes," Jongin finishes. But there's one other reason. "That, and because I want to."

"Why?" Joonmyun chuckles. "Why not an organization that will help you hone your skills in filmmaking all the more?"

"Because why the hell not?" Jongin replies, almost laughing as he ends. People keep asking him about his decisions in life – why K-ARTS, why an art course, why not one of those management degrees like the one your father took? I'm sure he'll be proud. Why is he taking up film? Because he wants to. Why is he choosing the broadcasting club over the others? Because it seems interesting and because he wants to. He's sick of following someone else's dream, living someone else's life just because his father failed to be the icon of success that his grandfather wanted him to be. He just wants to enjoy life after spending more than half of his life slaving over studying for an exam that was said to dictate his future.

"That's… not a good reason, Jongin," Joonmyun replies.

"I know, but it is my reason. I want to join because I think it's interesting. Because…" He worries his bottom lip, then rushes, "Because I want to! Because I want to know how it feels to influence people and for people to actually listen to what I have to say!"

He clasps his hands over his mouth and gulps hard. "I'm sorry, hyung. I didn't mean to–" He buries his face in his hands. "I shouldn't have just… blurted it out like that, should've thought things through–" Should have run them by Sehun because Sehun would know what to do. Sehun always seems to know what's best for him and for them. "And I know that self-control is an important trait as a DJ so I'd understand–"

"So you'd also know," Joonmyun begins, shutting the screen of his laptop and placing it on the table beside him as a does so. He reaches for Jongin's hand, then, gives it a light squeeze, and continues, "That being passionate is also an important trait as a DJ." He offers Jongin a smile, but all Jongin gets from it is more questions. "So I say, give it a shot. What's holding you back? I don't think it's the fact that you tend to ramble a lot." Joonmyun chuckles as he ends.

The fear of failing, Jongin wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead, he returns the smile. "Nothing," he says, then clears his throat as if in an attempt to flush down the other words that are threatening to fall from his lips. He looks at Joonmyun's hand on his own and thinks, Among other things.

"Nothing," he repeats, voice clearer than before. The tension in his muscles eases a little. "Nothing at all."

♬ ♬ ♬

Sehun's message is the first thing Jongin sees the following day. hey man hope u went w d broadcasting club thing. myt b gud 4 u hehehe c:, it says, and for a moment Jongin contemplates snapping a picture of his membership intent form and sending it to Sehun. It's six in the morning, though, and his photography skills have always been shit at such an early hour, so instead he goes with, yeah i did with luck hahahuhu. He trusts Sehun to understand the underlying message in that – it's ass o' clock in the morning but yeah, thanks for the well wishes, man, I really appreciate it.

He turns over so that he's lying flat on his stomach, then goes through a mental debate on taking a shower first then grabbing breakfast or doing it the other way around. If he goes to the cafeteria now, at this hour, he probably won't run into anyone. Plus, Wednesday classes don't start until ten in the morning. There's enough time to freshen up after, say, an hour-long breakfast at the cafeteria. Thank God for the long class hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays, really, even if he doesn't have classes on Thursdays.

He scribbles something on a sticky note that reads a lot like DON'T FORGET TO BRING THIS JONGIN!!!! and draws an arrow facing down, then sticks it to the envelope where he's placed his membership intent form. He'd filled it out last night, in the club room, before he and Joonmyun left for dinner. Joonmyun helped him with the essay there asking, Why do you want to join this organization? How do you think will it help you with your academics? In return, he bought Joonmyun coffee jelly for dessert. It's a fair trade.

In his phone's calendar, he notes, maybe buy sth for joonmyun-hyung?? sweet food/cake/lollipop idk? consult soojung!! because sometimes you have to go the extra mile when you borrow someone's time and brains. He slips his phone in his pajama pockets, then, and grabs the first cardigan he finds in his closet. It's a simple gray one that he remembers the Oh family giving him three Christmases back. This one, he takes a picture of, and sends to Sehun, saying, missin u kekeke.

He isn't lying when he says that. He trusts Sehun to know this truth.

The cafeteria is blessedly empty at this early hour. The servers have already placed the food in the buffet area, though, so Jongin trudges on, slippers flopping noisily on the tiles. He slows down his pace, then, each step more quiet than the previous, and cranes his neck to check the food selection. Classic seaweed soup for the Korean soul, juk, kimbap, and there's barbecue chicken at 6 a.m. Jongin places a check beside that and decides to order just half a roll of kimbap. He asks for both tea and a chocolate drink, too, because he needs the energy and one can never go wrong with chocolate. Once his order is complete, he picks up his tray and looks for a comfortable spot to spend the next hour in. He chooses the one two tables away from the window – it's just the right amount of hot and cold here.

He sips his soup quietly and takes some kimchi, then pulls out his phone to read some articles on film that he'd saved in his phone last night. Nothing like a quick read to get the day started.

It isn't until halfway through his meal that someone shows up beside him, a sleepy Zitao who still has a smidgen of toothpaste flaunted on a corner of his mouth. Jongin reaches up then, limbs moving completely on instinct, and wipes it away with his thumb. "Mmsorry," Zitao mumbles, then plops down beside Jongin. He almost ends up spilling seaweed soup all over his shirt but Jongin goes for the save. then presses the cold bottle of water on Zitao's cheek. "Up all night– studying–" Zitao yawns. "With people–"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Jongin says in reply. He chuckles a little.

Zitao's in his sleeping attire, as well, still lethargic and without a care in the world. It's a complete contrast to the Zitao he met yesterday, dressed to kill. This one's softer, gentler, unlike the warrior trudging the streets of a foreign country that he'd faced the day before. Also, very hungry. Zitao takes two long sips of his soup and starts eating his ramyun, alternating between the noodles and his half-roll of kimbap.

"Didn't see you after class yesterday," Zitao whispers. He chokes on his food a bit and Jongin offers his tea in response. "You had class after that? You just… disappeared."

"Aaah, I had to go to the grants office," Jongin replies. "And fix some… org stuff."

"Sounds pretty scary," Zitao whispers. He takes a sip of the tea and hums. "I wouldn't risk joining an org on my first semester. I just want to… get used to things first."

That's the thing – Jongin doesn't have a hand in things. It's part of the contract he'd signed with the student grants office, with the school, and of course he has to honor that. It would be rude and stupid not to. Besides, there is logic behind the office's reasoning that students must learn how to manage their time and balance academics and extra-curricular activities. He's done it before, back in middle school and high school, so what's stopping him now?

"I don't really have a choice," Jongin says, huffing. "I have to join an org. I'm… pretty excited, though? I think it's going to be fun." He bites off a piece of his barbecue chicken and seethes when he sinks his teeth into the chili flakes. These things should come with a fucking warning. "If I get in, at least."

"Well, good luck. You seem pretty happy about it," Zitao mumbles. He wants to ask Zitao what he means by that but Zitao's just sleepy, lethargic, probably not in his best state. He's more chatty when he's a hundred percent awake. Give it a rest, Jongin. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "And it looks like you're the type to chase a dream that you're really passionate about. Like…" Zitao hums. rubbing the tip of his nose. "A dog chasing a cute little bone."

"It's supposed to be tasty, not cute." Jongin laughs a little. "Who cares about cute bones?"

"I don't know! Sometimes, people are like that – they fall for something they think is good for them, but in the end the impact from the fall sucks because it's not what you've always wanted." Zitao drinks some of his tea again, then turns to face Jongin. He looks a bit more alive now. "Also, cute bones exist. I got my dog one before I went to Korea. It was my parting gift for her."

"You have a dog?"

"Yeah," Zitao replies. He cocks an eyebrow at Jongin. "Problem?"

"No, nothing! It's just…" He waves his hands in front of him. "I just didn't peg you as the type to take care of people."

Zitao scoffs. "Things aren't always what they seem, you know."

If meeting $uho is anything to go by, Jongin will say that Zitao's right. He hadn't expected $uho to be a little guy with bouncy hair and really nice eyes. He hadn't expected $uho to be the broadcasting club president, really, even if $uho already said that he was part of the club and that he was playing a bigger role that involves a lot of talking to people, Jongin still remembers that episode. What he did expect, however, was for $uho to have great taste in music even in real life. Joonmyun pulled up a playlist filled with Something Corporate, Sum 41, and M2M songs last night. Jongin never realized how fun it was to listen to M2M until he had to power through the book he'd just borrowed that afternoon for 'light reading'.

"Yeah," Jongin whispers, then pushes his plate of kimbap. He looks at Zitao, then, meeting him in the eye. "You want?"

Zitao stops for a moment, traps his bottom lip between his teeth, then says, "Um, sure. Thank you."

He doesn't see Zitao again until Introduction to Production class. He runs into Soojung, too, and takes the seat beside hers, then whispers in her ear, "Can you reserve that one beside you, too? For a friend. I think you'll like him." He ends with a wink, but Soojung quickly wipes it off his face with a grimace and a scowl. Jongin keeps the grin on his lips, hoping that the frown will be upturned somehow, but Soojung is unrelenting.

"Fine, fine. I was kidding. He's a sweetheart, though! He's in the same course as mine but he's really into animation. I think he'll get into the post-prod side of things eventually." Soojung cocks an eyebrow at his as if saying, and I'd be interested because? "Just sharing. I feel like sharing today."

"Share your enthusiasm for attending class at this hour," Soojung groans. "Can't tell if I love it or I hate it because it makes me ten times lazier than I already am. Why am I even in a film class?"

"Because this is basic production whose theory also applies to sound design and broadcasting?" Jongin offers.

Soojung rolls her eyes. "Whatever."

Zitao arrives not too long after in a black wifebeater that puts his toned arms on display. He raises an arm, waving at Jongin in a manner so enthusiastic that Jongin fears Zitao will hit the person closest to him – in this case, it's Soojung. Soojung seems unfazed, though, eyes tracing the length of Zitao's bare arms, then shifting to the dip of his back just before Zitao pulls a blue blazer over his shirt.

"Thanks for saving me a seat," he tells Jongin, beaming, then slinks away when he sees Soojung's sharp gaze. "And sorry for, uh, trespassing? Your territory?"

Behind Soojung, Jongin mouths, That's just her front. She really doesn't bite, but Soojung catches him, pins him with a stare and grabs him by the wrist. "I bite. Really hard," she declares, voice barely above a whisper but still loud enough for Jongin to catch. "Now, just because I think your friend has nice arms–"

"–is hot–" Jongin stops midway, then clears his throat. "Yeah. Nice arms. I'll need to take another look at those."

Soojung growls at him. "Why are you in honors class?"

"Because–" Jongin wiggles a finger in front of her. "I know how to balance acads and fun."

Soojung only shakes her head in response, and makes it her mission to not look to her left whenever the teacher walks to that side of the room.

The professor delves into the difference between the roles of the line producer and the executive producer right off the batt. "What we'll focus on in this class is line production. That's how to manage your talents and your director, and even the expectations of the original writer and the screenplay writer if you're working with a movie adaptation of the book. Or your voice actors and the scriptwriter of your material, for those majoring in broadcasting." The professor gives them all a quick look, then continues. "That's also how you… sort of marry the vision of the direction and the budget. It's a difficult skill to acquire, to know how to balance the artistry and the logistics of how to support each and every scene of a film, but after this class I promise that you will be more than equipped to go out and attempt to produce a film, maybe collaborate with some indie production houses."

She paces around the room, then, explaining what makes a good producer, and even drops names of real people who are known to have a good track record when it comes to line production. Says she's worked with them – the best of the best. She seems to know what she's talking about, though, and Jongin finds himself leaning closer, absorbing her lecture. Beside him, Soojung is throwing glances at Zitao but nothing lasts longer than a few seconds. Jongin laughs behind his hand in an attempt to not disrupt the discussion.

"And the most important trait that a line producer must have? Quick thinking," she says. She gives the class a quick scan, then grins. "So expect pop quizzes with situational questions that you need to find the answer to."

Jongin gulps hard. He's not good with things like these. It usually takes him a good five minutes to finalize a decision he's sure he won't regret, even longer if he has to decide on a course of action on a life-changing event. Guess I have another reason to do practice broadcasts, Jongin thinks to himself, then checks his file case from the membership intent papers. He lets out an exhale once he sees the papers pressed against the front-facing side of the case.

The only time to breathe that he gets in between classes is during lunch, and even that he spends the first half of rushing to the grants office to file his membership intent form. Mr. Shim isn't around for a chat, at least, so he won't lose even more time of his lunch break just trying to break free from. Mr. Shim's life lessons that mostly constitute statements like, it's okay to fail as long as you perfect the next try, or once you reach a state of perfection, push the bar even higher and set a new benchmark for it. They all make sense, yes, but Mr. Shim has a way of speaking with such a sense of urgency that Jongin can't help but feel like a superhero being given the task of saving the world from the evil clutches of towering academic requirements.

Jongin likes superheroes. There should be an academy for that, for people who go over and beyond what's expected of them. Add the ability to surprise people to the mix and he'll fit the bill even more.

He returns to the cafeteria some twenty minutes after and makes a beeline for the buffet table. He cranes his neck to check the food – a few things he can't recognize, and then the staples, kimbap, ramyun, mulmandu. He goes with kimchi jjigae this time and extra seasoned spinach. After hearing what people had to say about the Introduction to Cinematography class, he'd decided it's best to fuel himself with happy food. Or at least properly before he attempts to go into class that attempts to marry the objectivity and subjectivity of film.

"I'm pretty excited," Zitao whispers beside him. He'd started eating way before Jongin even arrived, and yet he still hasn't finished his food, complaining that the ramyun is too spicy. "I've always wanted to know how to produce a certain kind of lighting in movies and pictures, you know? Like–" He fishes for his phone and scrolls through his Instagram pictures, explaining his goal for three to four of the images he'd taken. "I want something… dramatic? Soft lighting that isn't so soft. Warm that is just the right about of hot but still a bit cool to the eyes?"

Jongin blinks several times and pops a slice of kimbap between his lips instead of questioning Zitao even further. "You ask our professor that, okay?" He says, giving Zitao a pat on the arm. "I'm sure he'll be able to answer that."

In cinematography class, Jongin tries to find a seat that's far from Zitao's so he can focus on everything he has to learn without having to deal with Zitao's running commentary on light play and how colors are mixed on a digital canvas, but to no avail. Zitao quickly secures him a seat beside his even before he can utter a word. Surprisingly, though, Zitao is quiet throughout the class, with only the occasional gasp and humming spilling from his lips during an interesting discussion on how temperature plays an important role in setting the mood and tone of a scene.

"Take Harry Potter, for example. You'll notice that in the first movie, in the scene where Hogwarts is shown for the first time, the lighting is cool, a bit more on the blue side than a good balance of yellow." Kim Jonghyun, their professor, scrubs to that part of the video, then draws circles in midair where the cool lighting is most apparent. "Do you know why that's important in the case of Harry Potter, specifically this scene?"

"Because…" Jongin stops drumming his fingers when Jonghyun looks at him, one eyebrow cocked and a corner of his lips quirked up. "Hogwarts has to have a certain air of mystery to it? I mean, it's a school for witches and wizards. There's–" He traces the sparkles on the screen in midair, too. "Sometimes it's not enough that you have sparkles in the scene to make the viewers feel that ah, that's right, this is a magical place. You need a weird hint of blue in the air. Atmospheric music in the background. That's really important." Jongin laughs a little. His penchant for beautiful soundtracks is showing. "Sometimes you have to do a little extra to more effectively relay the message of the scene, even if it's just one small scene."

Jonghyun nods, slow and deliberate, and grins. "Very well said. Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Jongin doesn't even fight the urge to smile right back at Jonghyun and giggle a little. This will be his favorite class for the semester, he just knows it.

♬ ♬ ♬

Three long hours of talk on cinematography dissolves into an interesting discussion on different uses of camera angles, and how the proper use of the handheld technique can dramatically change how a scene looks. Jonghyun talks a little about sound direction, too, how each and every scene needs to have an extra layer of ambient sound even if it's just a faint layer of white noise.

"Even the low thrumming of an air-conditioner will do. Or…" Jonghyun bites the inside of his cheek, looking to a side as he collects his thoughts. "Ah. You know the sound of light. It's much thinner than whirring noise, but with crackles from time to time. Those little things. You have to pay extra attention to those because the reality is that when you're seeing a movie, you're not just using your eyes. If that's the goal then let's just look at pictures. Not even animation." Jonghyun paces around the room and settles on a student's desk, sitting on the edge. "You use your sense of sight, because you don't just look at a film; you watch. You use your sense of hearing, as well. The sense of touch, too! You know that eerie cold feeling when you watch horror movies? How's that achieved?"

"Sound direction," comes a voice at the back of the room.

Jongin looks up at the sound of the door being shut, then glances over his shoulder. "Good sound direction and design, I mean. Also, extensive research on different kinds of sound effects."

Jonghyun laughs a little. "You are such a show-off, Kim Joonmyun." To the rest of the class, he says, "This kid here is a thesis advisee of mine. Spends 90% of the time following me around like some sick puppy. Please bear with him."

Jongin wants to laugh, but at the same time he wants to ask, Why are you here, hyung? Instead, he summons soft laughter, trying to pull up his cheeks with the biggest smile he can wear.

"And yeah, he might drop by from time to time because apparently, I'm a hard professor to find. Does that make me a rare Pokemon?"

Joonmyun cackles, then quickly clasps a hand on his mouth. Jongin wouldn't dare laugh at a professor that way. "You're not rare unless you have a catch rate of below 17%."

Jongin's breath hitches. He feels around for his phone and thinks, shit, when will he get his stipend for the month? He needs a good postpaid line so he can be connected to the internet all the time and message Sehun in times like these. Nonetheless, he launches Viber and types, dude he speaks pokemon I AM SO DEAD

Jonghyun meets Joonmyun's eyes across the room, then turns to the class with a shake of the head. "Never idolize this kid. Don't be like him. And don't talk to him while we're having a lecture. Girls, I know he's cute, but no, you can't get his number during my class. Maybe later." Jongin catches Jonghyun mouthing, Wait in the corner. We'll go through your paper later, though. Joonmyun doesn't seem to know where 'the corner' should be, though, settling instead beside Jongin.

While Jongin's focus is immaculate, it becomes difficult with Joonmyun sitting beside him in a freshman class, listening to Jonghyun's lecture and nodding like he doesn't know a thing about cinematography. Maybe he doesn't, but then Joonmyun said he was supposed to major in film until he shifted to broadcasting. In an effort to keep all of his focus on the Jonghyun's lecture, Jongin keeps his eyes trained on his professor, follows every movement of Jonghyun's hands even if Jonghyun moves around twice as much as the average human does. Joonmyun ups his game, though, leaning in a little to whisper in Jongin's ear, "I see you're enjoying his class. He's make a great thesis adviser if you're planning to produce a feature film or a documentary in your final year."

Jongin only looks to his side, doesn't turn to face Joonmyun or twist his his torso to get a better view of him. "We can discuss that after class, hyung."

"Just a suggestion," Joonmyun replies. He chuckles. "Plus, this is a test. Focus is important in broadcasting. The office received your application earlier and I'm making the staff prepare a test for you. It will be fun."

Jongin clenches his fists. Don't give in, Jongin. This is a test. He's the president and if you screw this up, you'll make $uho sad. I mean, you'll disappoint Joonmyun. You don't want that to happen, right? "Come at me, bro," he whispers in response, instead. He lets his nails dig into his skin when Joonmyun moves even closer.

"Bro? Really? Come at me, bro?"

Jongin seethes. "I look forward to the challenge, hyung," he says as a retort.

Joonmyun leans a bit more, then, and pulls away soon after. "Better," he says, then leans back in his seat, facing Jonghyun.

The bell rings, signifying the end of the class, and the students wave Jonghyun goodbye one by one. Zitao engages Jonghyun in a quick chat, probably asking about how to achieve certain temperatures just by playing with the lighting because Jonghyun is saying, "You'll learn about that in the succeeding weeks. No need to rush. Tao." Jongin sticks around, then, waiting for Zitao to finish, rocking his legs back and forth in his seat.

"Sonsaengnim seems to like you a lot," Joonmyun says, voice growing louder with each passing second. He's carrying his chair, bringing it closer to Jongin's own as if the very little space between them isn't enough. He settles on the seat, then, once he's satisfied with the distance. "He doesn't make eye contact that much with people unless he finds them interesting. I'm guessing you answered one of his questions."

Jongin laughs a little. "That's not a tough guess, hyung. I graduated at the top of the class. Of course I'll answer the teacher's questions properly, the way they like it."

"No, no. I meant–" Joonmyun huffs, the blows at his bangs. Jongin's gaze on the whiteboard flickers, then fixes on Joonmyun. $uho does that side-bang-blowing a lot, no matter how bad that sounds. To be fair, he wasn't the one who coined the term; Joonmyun is to blame. "It's hard to explain. He doesn't just develop a fondness for a student on the first day of class because of a simple graded recitation. You must have answered really well."

Jongin shrugs. "He awarded ten points to Gryffindor. I guess that's a good thing."

"Ah. He used Harry Potter as lecture material." Joonmyun nods. "You impressed him, alright. And the house points are convertible to actual points in the grades, by the way."

Jongin's ears perk up at convertible to actual points. "Yes, this is definitely my favorite class this term. Absolute favorite."

Jonghyun's discussion with Zitao doesn't end until ten minutes after, and by then Jongin has already managed to coax a few clues out of Joonmyun on how the test will go. "Three parts, all of equal importance. All three will be held on the same day, so be prepared. I'll... leave things to your imagination," Joonmyun says. It sounds so sleazy when Joonmyun ends with a wink, but Jongin knows that Joonmyun means nothing like it – this is work, technically, and as the president of the broadcasting club, he has to be charming. Grudgingly so.

Jongin narrows his eyes at Joonmyun and sticks out his tongue. How mature, Kim Jongin, a voice at the back of his mind says. He shuns it away, tells it to bug off. "Hit me with your best shot, hyung," Jongin says, bumping his fist against his palm. "I can take anything you throw at me."

"Even a spiel in Spanish?"

Jongin furrows his eyebrows. "Uh, I can try."

"Or…" Joonmyun hums, then worries his bottom lip as he tries to come up with something. "A radio drama in Swiss. Then Chinese commercials between segments."

"Hyung!" Jongin grumbles. "Not even professional broadcasters are made to do that impromptu!"

"How about Parseltongue, then?" Jonghyun adds.

Jongin holds his breath, considering, then gulps hard. "I know the basics. I can introduce myself in Parseltongue and tell everyone I'm a Parselmouth."

Joonmyun cocks both eyebrows at him and smiles. He risks a glance at Jonghyun, then says, "No, sonsaengnim, you can't take him home. The kid still needs to render residency hours in the broadcasting club."

Jongin doesn't want to read into things especially since he hardly knows Joonmyun, but the lilt of the voice, the thick threat dripping from it speaks of the tiniest hint of possessiveness. Or maybe Jongin's just imagining things, because the next thing he knows Joonmyun is already sauntering away from him, walking to where Jonghyun is with two file cases filled with white paper. Maybe he is. Joonmyun probably just sees him as another junior, someone who has displayed interest in joining the broadcasting club and maybe has better listening skills than most people. He isn't special. If Joonmyun ever thinks Jongin is, he doesn't show it. Instead, Joonmyun calls out to Jongin just before Jongin leaves the room, "Don't let me down, kid!"

You can't take him home, Joonmyun's voice echoes in his mind. Jongin looks over his shoulder, and gives Joonmyun a wink. "I'll blow you away."

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin holes himself up in his dorm room after class. There's still a good hour until sunset, but there's no reason to stay out. Sure, he has to look for print ads for Boa's class and maybe brush up on his Harry Potter knowledge, but he can do those tomorrow – he only has one class on Thursdays, after all. His classes may be spread across all days, but at least he doesn't have 12-hour class days where he has to wake up at six and get his senses going by eight in the morning, then retreat to his dorms a little before nine in the evening. He'd like to think he has it easier than most people, but he really does love studying and anything related to education. Extra-curriculars, not so much, but he has to live with that. He fell in love with debate when he was in high school. Shove a microphone in his general direction and he won't let it go until he wins an argument.

You can't take him home– Jongin shakes his head, rolls over so that he's lying flat on his stomach, and buries his face in his pillow. Joonmyun probably didn't mean whatever Jongin thinks he meant. He doesn't even know what that's supposed to mean. It's not as if Jongin can't be active in the broadcasting club and still maintain a good class standing in his cinematography class. He can, and he knows he can give them equal attention if needed. It will just... take some getting used to, given that university is much more difficult than high school. He's positive he can pull off another one of those 'Kim attending extra-curricular activities and Jongin reciting in class and acing quizzes' things again. Maybe this time he should solicit the help of a third persona. 'Kai' might be able to help him out in other aspects of his life. Like being an online video jock or even a DJ.

"Do your assignment and prepare for the qualifying test first, silly," he tells himself, but makes no effort to push himself off the bed. A little rest won't hurt, anyway.

A little rest turns out to be three whole hours of sleep. His Torrent download and seeding are done now, and he exits the program before checking his reflection in the mirror. His bed hair is awful but nobody cares about his hairstyle nowadays. Sehun isn't around to make sure his hair is neatly combed to the sides or that he washes his hair at all. At first, it was a chore, but after a while it became a habit. Then it became more of something to please Sehun with because Sehun loves nuzzling the back of Jongin's head. In a best friend kind of way, no matter how weird that makes Jongin feel.

He checks his phone – his message has been delivered and read already, but Sehun hasn't replied yet. Give it a rest. You're timezones apart, he tells himself. That era is long over and Sehun already said he's into boobs and not dicks. Move the fuck on. Months after that talk and it still claws at his throat, leaves something akin to the taste of blood on his tongue. Gingerly, he fishes for his comb at the bottom of his bag and fixes his hair. He doesn't need to have Sehun around to fix himself up.

He laughs to himself. "That sounds so deep, Jongin. Where did you pick that up?" he asks his reflection. He waits for a moment, wondering if the man in the mirror will talk back to him, but soon shivers at the thought. "You made that thing up, punk. You're the best."

He fishes for his phone and slips it in his pocket, then grabs a notebook and a pen. Maybe he can squeeze in some research after dinner. He's always felt comfortable in the presence of books.

He trudges to the cafeteria in the same jeans, but in a white shirt this time. He'd drooled on the one he wore to class earlier, and suddenly he regrets not freshening up because he can still feel the stink of saliva on his skin. Whatever. I'll eat a lot of grilled food or something or hope the scent of kimchi sticks to my shirt. He orders a bowl of bibimbap and extra kimchi, then asks for a bowl of seaweed soup. It always helps the meat go down, somehow. It's also his go-to food when he feels a little down.

He stares at his reflection in the soup bowl and thinks, he sounds like a girl going through PMS. He would know – all his sisters are like this when they're really depressed. Except he's not bleeding through his balls and he's glad he isn't. "Focus. Think of homework. Focus, Kai, come on!" he tells himself as he stares his reflection down on the soup bowl. "First, you're going to eat, then you're going to the library to look for old magazines or something. Then borrow the last three Harry Potter books–"

"Whatever did the soup do to you to merit such a face?" comes a familiar voice. He scrunches his nose and thinks, It's not you, soup; it's me. And I'm going to deal with this like an adult. "Did it blow hot air on your face? Did it burn your tongue?"

"We have to stop meeting like this, hyung," Jongin mutters. He looks up at Joonmyun, then down at their reflection on the soup, and back up. "Are you following me or something?"

Joonmyun parts his lips for a moment like he's considering saying something, then he's pressing them together, lips coming together in a tight smile. "You got me," Joonmyun replies, then sets his tray down on the table. He's having the same thing as he did the previous night – spicy bibimbap, seaweed soup, extra kimchi and a few more pieces of yellow radish. And then two mugs of tea. "I hope you don't mind that I'm joining you for dinner."

"Do I have a choice?" Jongin teases, and Joonmyun's expression goes tense for a moment. His eyebrows crinkle and Jongin can make out the bob of Joonmyun's Adam's apple in his neck. So he rushes, "Kidding! Go ahead, hyung. I could use some company."

Joonmyun shifts in his seat, then takes the plates off the tray. He arranges the dishes in front of him like he's plotting out a plan of attack against the neighboring tribe back in the early 15-somethings. Still, Jongin watches with morbid curiosity as Joonmyun systematically places one piece of kimchi on the rice, then a slice of yellow radish, then a piece of meat before taking the three together plus some rice in one big bite.

"That's... a lot of work, hyung," Jongin teases. Joonmyun only cocks an eyebrow at him, still halfway through chewing his food. "Do you have a system for everything? Like, even doing your homework?"

Joonmyun raises a finger in response, then swallows down his food in one fluid motion. "Yes, and no. I determine the order in which I do them based on two things – when they're needed, and the level of complexity." Joonmyun takes a sip of his tea, then continues, "Thesis takes precedence over everything, even my life." He chuckles. "Or food. Or my online things. I haven't gotten to working on a recommendation for the week yet, would you believe that?"

He won't lie that he's thought of asking Joonmyun – no $uho – how he manages to find time to make videos of his weekly recommendations and the top ten's a long, long time ago. He has a message intended for that, saved in his drafts in Youtube, but he never got to send it to $uho in all the years that he's followed the Youtube sensation. Heck, he never even got to send his thank you message for $uho when he found out he got the scholarship because of his 'super DJing skills', not verbatim. Maybe he can do that after the try outs for the broadcasting club, if he does get in. Or maybe he can just say that right now while Joonmyun's gorging on his food, still eating his bibimbap in a way that makes him wonder why Joonmyun hadn't just asked for a dissected version of it without the gochujang to bind the ingredients together.

"I can't watch you eat. It's... exhausting," Jongin groans. He stares at his reflection in his seaweed soup and sticks his tongue out at his face. When he looks back up, Joonmyun's laughing at him silly and shaking his head, lips slowly drawing to a light press against each other when his laughter dies down.

"Then just eat," Joonmyun offers. He dunks his chopsticks into the bowl and takes a generous serving of egg with rice. Jongin raises an eyebrow at him. "I eat it like this after a while, once I get past the initial, uh, organization stage."

Jongin shakes his head and mutters, "You're impossible, hyung. Why are you my idol again?"

Joonmyun tilts his head to the side, one corner of his lips tugging up even more. "That's a good question. Why am I your idol?"

Jongin swallows around his own food and presses his lips together. He takes a deep breath.

There was a time when he'd think about the reason behind that for hours on end – $uho had a really bad fashion sense and questionable rapping skills. Fashion wasn't important to Jongin; rapping, maybe a bit, but he was still better than Sehun. $uho has displayed hints of being really smart one too many times, though, whenever he makes all these references in his videos that Jongin wouldn't have known had he not read all of his textbooks for school from cover to cover, and then back. Maybe that was it – he liked the thought that being smart and studious didn't necessarily entail being the most prim and proper person in the block. He can be a lazyass bum who loves playing video games until obscene hours in the morning and still garner awards for academic excellence. He likes the contrast. He likes being a mix bag of tricks. He likes the element of surprise that it brings. It breathes music into his otherwise insipid life.

Still, Jongin replies, "I'll get back to you on that," then stuffs his mouth with food. Joonmyun's lips are parted, poised to speak, but he doesn't press on. Instead, he begins to mix the gochujang with the other ingredients for his bibimbap and eat it the way it should be eaten. Jongin lets out a satisfied exhale when Joonmyun gives in, gets rid of his routine and just enjoys his meal. "I'm so proud of you, hyung."

"Silly kid. Say that once I've turned in my thesis," Joonmyun mumbles. His eyes go wide for a moment, then he's looking back at his food with a frown on his lips, like the sight of the mix disturbs him.

Jongin wants to ask, what about your thesis?, but decides against it. He hasn't even known Joonmyun for a week yet. Sure, he knows his online persona, but they're two different people. $uho isn't a broadcasting student in the same way that Joonmyun can sing but probably can't rap. They aren't the same banana. So he broaches a different topic, still capitalizing on Joonmyun's moment of weakness but not striking at the 'thesis' point of his life.

"So what kind of test will you be giving me, hyung?"

"Simple practical exercises," Joonmyun replies. He sticks out his tongue when Jongin meets his gaze. "The last activity, I'm pretty sure you've never done yet. I'd like to see you handle pressure like never before."

Jongin narrows his eyes at Joonmyun. If this is like one of those weird fantasies of his wheres someone sucks him off under the table and another guy fondles with his balls while he's on air, then damn, he'd be so down with that. No, Jongin. Shit. Down, boy! "I don't get pressured. I never feel pressure."

"Right," Joonmyun mumbles. "And I'm just as tall as you are."

"I didn't say that, hyung."

"You get pressured. A lot. By the smallest things. Kimchi-stuffed mulmandu confuses you and makes you feel uncomfortable," Joonmyun states. "Trapped in a tunnel, it will probably take you an entire day to try to figure out how to climb out. And then a few more hours before you get started on your trek up."

Jongin scoffs. "You don't know me, hyung, come on–"

"Oh, don't I?" Joonmyun laughs a little. "Are you sure?"

Jongin squints his eyes, then leans back to get a better look at Joonmyun. Joonmyun's looking at him with a gaze so steady that Jongin almost feels like he's an open book to every single person, so easy to read and to figure out. And he hates it. He likes leaving a bit of himself to be figured out even by people who know him inside and out already. And here Joonmyun is, not a complete stranger but not quite a friend yet, trapping him with a gaze that could say, I've got you figured out, or, I know what you're thinking about. If I'm wrong, that's okay, I'm on my way there.

"Whatever," Jongin mumbles. He pops a few pieces of kimchi in his mouth, then says, "Let's just eat."

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin makes a home out of the library the following day. He has all the thing necessary for survival – his headphones, a fully charged phone and music player, his glasses, and his notes, and then a list of his assignments and related paperwork color-coded is Post-it colors. This type of organization won't last until his last semester, he's sure of it, but for now he'll try to convince himself that he's capable of some semblance of system in his life. The sticky notes are a nice touch. It helps that the colors help keep him awake while powering through notes and books and whatever readings he has accumulated in the past week.

"What do I do with you?" he mumbles, poking at a list of magazines he's supposed to look for for his Understanding TV and Media class. He thumbs through his readings for cinematography class, then looks back at the list. "Do I really want to do homework this early or just sleep the whole day?"

"Do homework," comes Zitao's voice from behind him. He almost jumps in his seat, but manages to keep it together until Zitao settles down beside him. It's ten in the morning – he vaguely remembered Zitao mentioning that he has classes all days of the week, but he's here and he's disrupting Jongin's silence. "Or at least suffer with me. I just want to play Omega Ruby over the weekend. I haven't touched it since I finished Alpha Sapphire."

"Well, sorry," Jongin blurts out. Zitao cocks an eyebrow at him, and Jongin rushes, "I mean some kids just have one version of the Pokemon game. I'm still waiting for the Ruby prices to drop. And for my stipend. I'll reward myself with a copy when that day comes."

Zitao narrows his eyes like he's trying to process the mouthful that Jongin has just said, then laughs after a while. "There's a 50% price drop this weekend. There's a game shop just a few minutes away from the university."

"You're the worst friend ever," Jongin groans. "How am I supposed to concentrate now!" Focus, comes Joonmyun's voice in his mind. Damn, that was fast. After a while, he amends, "Whatever! I'll get my shit done today so tomorrow I can squirm in excitement because you told me about the price drop!"

Zitao grins at him, canines peeking, and flashes a peace sign. "You're welcome, dude. And thanks for lunch tomorrow!" Zitao widens his smile when Jongin turns to him with wide eyes. "Hah!"

The study session with Zitao turns out to be one of the most productive sessions ever. Zitao becomes quiet company as soon as he flips a book open, and they talk only when one needs something from the other – "Hey Jongin, do you have an eraser?" "At the bottom of the pencil case. Should be there somewhere. You have gum?" "Yeah, but only blueberry mint." "Cool. I love that." It's works for Jongin, this type of arrangement where he knows Zitao isn't expecting anything from him and doesn't mind his presence. It's… an easy friendship, easy enough that when Zitao looks up at him, head tilted just a little as if asking, you need more gum?, he nods and reaches for Zitao's pack and takes two pieces without question.

If this were Sehun then things would probably be the same, except Jongin would tease Sehun and make him pop two pieces of gum inside his mouth. And Sehun would comply, even brush his thumb along Jongin's bottom lip before prying Jongin's lips open because that's what best friends do. Jongin shakes his head, then, and takes a deep breath, then stares at the block of text on his textbook.

Focus, Jongin, comes Joonmyun's voice again in his mind. He grips the pen tight in his hand and starts to scribble notes on the reading about proper use of color in cinematography.

He catches lunch with Zitao after the study session, and Zitao excuses himself to do 'other non-academic things' that Jongin supposes is organization-related. Zitao mentioned not wanting to have his attention split between academics and extra curriculars, but if he's part of the honors class then he really has to sign up for something. It's a safe assumption. There's always the option of not getting in through a scholarship program, though. He retreats to his room once he's done, then, and boots his laptop while he changes into much comfortable clothes. There's a Youtube notification sitting on his inbox when he returns, a message saying that $uho has uploaded a new song recommendation.

"Focus, huh?" Jongin mumbles under his breath. Doesn't Joonmyun have his thesis to worry about? Still, Jongin loads the video and feels his throat constrict when $uho walks into the frame.

It's the usual spiel from $uho – a greeting to the channel subscribers, a thank you message, then a glimpse of the top ten. $uho then tackles the recommendation of the week – an unassuming track from Sheppard whose upbeat tone can deceive people into thinking that the song is actually a nice, happy one. Wrong again, Jongin mumbles as the song hits the chorus, the words 'let me down easy' blaring through his speakers now. He looks at the volume of work he's accomplished today and thinks, with all these things done, there's something else that he can focus on.

The song fades out into an instrumental track and Jongin upvotes the video on instinct. It isn't until he's about to click the 'submit' button that he realizes that he's already typed up a comment, an assessment of the song more detailed than any comment he's left $uho before. His first thought is, huh, I can actually dissect songs this way now? His second, I can actually write a comment to $uho's videos without resorting too numerous exclamation points and unintelligible words?

He looks up at the video, the last few seconds of the video playing, and $uho looks at the camera with a heated gaze and a small smirk on his lips. He snorts for a while, and then he feels his chest constrict, the slow-simmering heat in his chest bubbling and clawing at his throat. It fucking stings and leaves a bad taste in his mouth, something akin to blood and metal, but instead of taking quick breaths to steady his breathing, he holds his breath.

And then it happens – just a small window of chance where the hard corners of $uho's lips soften into something that resembles a smile, something more Joonmyun. His nails catch on the keys of his keyboard and that's what brings him back, shoots up pain to his elbows, then to his shoulders, and leaves his muscles in tense knots.

The melody is really deceiving! Never saw the sad love song coming. It's a nice contrast to the upbeat tune. It's surprises like these in music that make the industry so magical, yeah? the message in the comment box says.

He takes a deep breath and hits the 'submit' button even before he can think twice about it. He closes the tab, then, and navigates to Google, pulling up transcriptions of old radio programs for practice.

♬ ♬ ♬

Joonmyun surprises him in the cafeteria that night, sliding next to him over dinner. "Do you have a thing for sneaking up to people?" Jongin asks, voice cracking a little as it peaks, and Joonmyun laughs at him. If, before, Jongin was positive that it was him who was doing the stalking, right now he isn't so sure anymore. All he knows right now is that Joonmyun popping up out of nowhere has fucked him up so badly that his hunger only gets worse.

His stomach growls on his behalf and he says nothing anymore when Joonmyun beams at him. "What? I thought by now you'd have gotten used to being my dinner buddy. I told you, all my friends have classes in the evening so I usually eat alone."

"Until I came into your life and pulled you out of your miserable solo dinners, yeah," Jongin groans. Joonmyun chuckles, but he doesn't tear his eyes from Jongin yet, keeps him pinned in place. He isn't even planning to run away or let himself get eaten by the ground. "I'm sorry, that was rude. I just– Hyung, I'm telling you now, even the smallest things scare the crap out of me."

Joonmyun leans closer, just a few inches from Jongin's face now, and whispers, "Boo!" Jongin jerks back, closing his eyes on instinct, but he can still hear Joonmyun's heavy breathing close by. He can hear Joonmyun's light chuckling, his humming, can feel Joonmyun's hot breath tickling the bridge of his nose.

He can feel a thin veil of warmth creeping up his neck, settling on his cheeks, and he gulps hard in an effort to get rid of the feeling. But then Joonmyun pinches his noise and laughs when he freezes right in his spot, then laughs all the more.

"I am not sorry for anything. Never gonna be sorry!" Jongin says when Joonmyun finally pulls away.

"Clue for the day: hosting," Joonmyun announces halfway through dinner. He arranges the empty dishes on the side by color, then draws his glass closer to him. "I figured that one you needed to prepare for, but I won't give you the topic yet. Just know that you'll be hosting. So what you'll want to practice is how to enunciate words properly without having to sacrifice air time."

"I'll pretend I remembered everything that you said so o-kay," Jongin says, nodding. "When– When will the test be, though? Will I have enough time to prepare? I mean–"

"Exactly one week from now. That's why I'm giving you a hint as to what to expect some d-day," Joonmyun answers. He grins, remnants of his smile crawling up to his cheeks, then the corners of his eyes. This isn't a look $uho fashions, but this might has well be Joonmyun's brand of '$uho confidence'. It's there in the way he tilts his head up just a little, the way he holds his chin up high and looks at Jongin like he's studying his every movement, even the hitch of his breath. It's like he's testing Jongin right here, right now, smack in the middle of dinner. Jongin isn't sure how Joonmyun feels about having a DJ board with leftover kimchi in his teeth. Jongin knows how he feels about that – embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"Is there, like, a secret to it? Like, is there a formula that I can follow when it comes to contracting syllables so that they don't lose their meaning?"

Joonmyun chuckles. "That defeats the purpose of this this being a hint and only just," he says. "Research. I'm sure there's something on Google. Just choose your sources wisely. Forums are always great sources of information. It's almost as if you're conducting an interview with a panel of DJs all over the world in one day."

That's pretty exhausting, Jongin wants to say, but instead he nods and worries his bottom lip. He pulls out his phone, then, typing up a reminder for himself – forums are your savior!! look for fast-speaking something technicques– He hits the backspace to correct his spelling and thinks, Dammit, Jongin, you're class valedictorian and you can't even spell 'techniques'. You're gonna need a shitload of practice on enunciation, alright.

"Sounds good," he says once he's done saving a note. He lays his phone down on the table, then meets Joonmyun's gaze. "Why are you helping me, hyung?"

Joonmyun looks at him, just looks at him, with this weird sort of crinkle on the corner of one eye and a glimmer in the other. If he had enough energy and confidence to pull off a rap, maybe he would've already said, bling, swag, bling– just to describe that activity going on in Joonmyun's eyes. But he doesn't have that. What he has is passable powers of observation and strong analytical skills that hasn't let him down yet. Those two have gotten him through some of his toughest times in high school.

"A lot of reasons," Joonmyun answers. He takes a sip of his tea – he's having the same thing again tonight, two cups of tea and all – then looks up at Jongin from the brim of his tea cup. "That you don't have to know. Why, don't you want to get in?"

He wants to. And more than anything else, he needs to. There's a scholarship requirement to be met. There's something he has to prove to himself – that he hasn't experienced failure yet where academics and school are involved. There's a promise to be kept – that he won't let Joonmyun down. So when he feels the tension in his throat ease, he says, "Yes. I want to." He confesses, "I have to."

"Then just be glad," Joonmyun says. "Besides, these are just hints. It's not as if I'm giving the solution set to the challenge away." He raises his tea cup in Jongin's direction, and it takes a while for things to click – Joonmyun's asking for a toast. Jongin isn't even drinking tea at the moment. "To your admission to the broadcasting club?"

Jongin gulps hard and raises his glass of water. "Or maybe, to success?"

Joonmyun nods. "I like the sound of that better."

Jongin meets Joonmyun halfway, clinking their glasses together, and holds Joonmyun's gaze even as he takes a sip of his drink. Joonmyun is unrelenting, as well, even more so with that small smirk tugging up at a corner of his mouth. There's something scribbled in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, in the way he lowers his head without tearing his eyes from Jongin. There's something in Joonmyun that Jongin hasn't quite figured out yet, so doesn't look away, doesn't give up yet, keeps studying Joonmyun until he can't anymore.

Studying is something he's good at. Grades and academics have neither let him down nor put him to shame before.

They leave the cafeteria just a little before nine in the evening. Joonmyun excuses himself to do some last-minute reading before the library closes at 10, and Jongin declares intent to head back to his dorm. "Get enough rest, Kim Jongin," Joonmyun says before turning on his heel to leave. "You'll need all the rest you can get." And Jongin only nods in response, waving his hand in Joonmyun's direction as Joonmyun goes on his way.

"What are you doing?" Jongin whispers, eyes still trained on Joonmyun's retreating figure. "What do I with you, hyung?"

♬ ♬ ♬

Jongin's first Skype session with Sehun is a mess. It's the eleven in the evening on Friday and Sehun is still in his pajamas. Jongin, too, except it's dark in this side of the globe whereas the sun is shining brightly over Sehun's shoulder. "It's been a while, huh?" Sehun begins, voice still sticky with sleep and the smile on his lips lazy. It makes Jongin feel a bit guilty for pulling Sehun out of bed on a non-class day, but at the same time it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Like explosions at the tips of his fingers, except less scalding. More dangerous, though.

Sehun shifts in his position, lying flat on his tummy now, then props his chin on his hands. "C'mon, start talking. You didn't get me out of bed just to stare at my face, did you?" he says, chuckling. Jongin rolls his eyes in response.

What if I did? Jongin wants to ask. He gulps those words down, flushes them out of his system, and focuses on the drool at the corners of Sehun's lips. His fingers still feel a bit numb but his heartbeat slows down considerably. It's progress. "Your face? Ew. Wash your face first. You look horrible."

"Okay. Who called me at ass o' clock in the morning because he couldn't sleep because ah, Sehunnie, I'm so nervous about the broadcasting club test thinggie–"

Jongin groans. "Oh, shut up!"

Shut up means an hour-long conversation on catch up, with Sehun taking him through what he'd been busy with the whole week, how the weather in U.K. is life. "For the record, they can understand me. My English isn't as bad as yours," Sehun teases. Jongin only sticks up his middle finger in reply. Sehun tells him about his classes, as well, how managing people seems so different when viewed through the eyes of someone brought up in a different culture. "I mean yeah, I know laying people off is really hard but research actually says some managers even feel bad after firing someone. I don't think I've ever read a case like that in Korea. People there just seem so… detached sometimes."

Jongin laughs a little. It makes sense – Sehun hadn't said 'goodbye' before leaving for the U.K., simply left him a letter because this'll save us the trouble of crying, yeah? C'mon, I know you'll cry and you know I will, too, because that's how we work– It makes sense for something like this to have a huge impact on him, to be an eye-opener. Sometimes you don't see how things can be done differently if you're stuck doing the same thing day in and day out. Sometimes you need to take a step back to see more clearly instead of leaning closer.

"Must be tough experiencing that and having to be objective about it, yeah?" Jongin comments.

"Yeah, but…" Sehun laughs a little, breathing noisily through his nose. "It has to be done."

"You make it sound so easy."

Sehun snorts. "It isn't. But I try to convince myself that it is." Sehun drums his fingers on his bed. "To make being away from my family more bearable."

Jongin waits for the follow up, but he supposes he could also fall under 'family'. They have grown up together, after all. Sehun grew on him, then grew out of their promise to be together, forever, right Jonginnie?. Jongin should grow the fuck up. Still, he says, "You'll get through it. You're good at… dealing with things."

Sehun laughs this time, albeit a bit choked. "I try my best."

The following hour, Sehun indulges Jongin in questions about life in the university, his plans for the broadcasting club, and, "Are you really sure that you want to do this?" Sehun worries his bottom lip. "Sometimes I'm worried that you just do these things because people keep forcing excellence upon you? Does that even make sense? I mean, your parents wouldn't take any grade lower than 90. Then you started thinking that way, that even an 89 is bad and a disgrace to your family–"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Jongin replies. He leans back in his seat, then says, "I'm actually pretty excited about it? The thing's next week so… I'll need all the practice I can get."

Sehun narrows his eyes at Jongin, and for a moment Jongin wonders if Sehun's about to pass out on him. That would be the worst. "You wanna practice?"

"What." Jongin cackles. "You know nothing about being a DJ or radio broadcasting or whatever–"

"Doesn't mean I can't pretend I do," Sehun replies, ending with a wink.

Jongin takes a deep breath, then slowly lets out the air in his lungs, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

Sehun asks him easy things at first – what he thinks about a certain artist's new album, or maybe their new music style. What entering the realm of hiphop after doing pop-rock for the longest time implies or says about the listener's character. If music speaks of a person's traits at all, like, "You know how some judge others for their taste in music? Stuff like that," Sehun adds. Jongin manages to answer all of Sehun's questions, and weaves all of his arguments at the end of the session with a blanket statement.

"So I'm not saying that just because you are dressed like some rockstar, you're supposed to like rock," Jongin answers. "Sometimes people like a good mix, y'know? Something weird about you. Something… something out of place but isn't offensive. Like ketchup on fish or chocolate chips on fried ice cream."

Sehun nods, slow and measured, assessing. His eyebrows are furrowed only slightly and there's a tentative smile on his lips, playing at the corners. "Of course, you had to mention the fried ice cream."

"Ice cream is important," Jongin argues. Sehun loves ice cream and everything sweet. Who doesn't, though?

"Right. Ice cream is important." Sehun rubs his eyes with his balled fists. It's one in the afternoon there; he isn't supposed to be sleepy anymore. It's Jongin who's supposed to feel drained after two three-hour classes and asking Zitao and Soojung to help him prepare for the broadcasting club test the following week. "I missed that, you know. Ice cream Fridays."

Jongin's ears perk up at that, and suddenly all the fatigue that had piled up on him the whole day lifts from his shoulders. "Well, I don't have data on my phone yet so we can't have ice cream Skype dates," he replies. The word 'date' rolls off his tongue faster than he can take a deep breath. "Skype sessions. Calls. Video calls. Whatever."

Sehun looks at him for a while, just looks at him, without saying a thing. There's a slow-forming smile on his lips that reaches even the corners of his eyes, breathes life into his irises and his cheeks. "You're tired, Jongin." You're radioactive. You're like a ticking bomb, just waiting to explode – Jongin gets it. This is Sehun's way of dodging the bullet and firing it back at Jongin, a gun pointed to his head. "It's past 12. Go to bed."

Jongin frowns. "I am in bed."

"Go to sleep," Sehun says, enunciating each syllable more this time. "Stop being a kid, c'mon. And I have class in two hours, so–"

Jongin takes a deep breath and lets his gaze trace the curve of Sehun's face for a moment, memorizing the dip of his eyebags and the jut of his bottom lip. Another blink, and he snaps himself an image of this moment where Sehun's looking at nobody else but him, like no one, nothing at this particular moment matters. And then another, and he's back to reality, pulling back, finger hovering the trackpad.

"I'll see you soon?" Jongin asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Sehun nods, then offers one last smile. "Soon."

Soon, they're waving each other 'goodbye' and Jongin's clicking the 'end call' button. Soon, he's putting his laptop on hibernate and plugging it to the power supply because Skyping takes a lot out of his laptop's battery. It takes a lot of out him, too, he realizes when he sinks back in his bed, back pressed to the cushions as he allows himself to be engulfed by the pillows. It's safer here, where Sehun can't see him, where he can live with the promise of 'Skyping soon' and just that.

He closes his eyes and tells himself, Focus, Jongin. Focus on your studies and getting into the broadcasting club. Just focus. He repeats that in his head, again and again, until the voice becomes louder and the words spill from his lips.

"Focus," he tells himself one last time, and closes his eyes. He goes to bed with the thought of passing the test for the broadcasting club and calling speed dial 1 on Skype as soon as he receives the news.

♬ ♬ ♬

Weekends in K-ARTS aren't as eventful as he'd imagined. There are no art shows, no fancy exhibits of any sort. It makes sense, though – it's only the start of the term. Going home on weekends, to Gyeonggi-do, isn't too much of a chore, but he'd rather stay here where there's no one breathing down his neck at every opportunity.

Saturday morning is chaotic, to say the least. Students running to and fro, bumping into each other in the corridors in an attempt to get from one place to another quickly then get out of school. Jongin runs into a few, one of them a girl who even knocks him over and only mumbles an apology but doesn't help him get up. It's a good thing that he hasn't had his cup of hot chocolate yet – the lack of it helps lessen the pain of the fall somehow. Three collisions and a two hours after, Jongin finally learns when to step to his left or his right to avoid bumping into anyone. He learns to duck, too, because some students have magical leaping powers and reflexes.

He'll develop that someday, maybe four weeks into the semester when he starts to feel the grind. He locks his arms behind him once he reaches an empty corridor, then groans in pain when someone speeds past him and bumps into his outstretched arms.

He spends the rest of the morning in the discussion hall in the library, confining himself to just one corner, the one farthest from the doors. He practices spiels from old commercials there – a shampoo commercial, a laundry detergent commercial, and a cookie commercial for the last one – trying to execute each using varying tones and styles of delivery. He succeeds until he breaks into the detergent commercial's campaign jingle and doesn't rouse from laughter after that.

He looks around for an audience before whipping out his phone and pulling up the camera application. He flips the camera around, toggles the video option, then clears his throat. "Okay. This is a test video. Jongin, remember, you're not supposed to accidentally upload this or send this to Sehun." He shifts in his seat when he hears foot steps not too far away, then looks back at the camera once the sound dies down. He drops his voice to a whisper, too. "Today, we're going to talk about… music. The subtle differences between Coldplay and Snow Patrol's music."

Nobody pits two bands against each other on air, says a voice at the back of his mind. He shuns that voice away, shakes his head, then faces the camera. And… action!

It's a silly discussion at first – or at least Jongin feels silly and weird for having to record himself for his 'practice broadcast' after Zitao cancelled on him because he has to Skype with his relatives back in China. It's silly for the first ten minutes, where he tries to dig up real facts about the bands, that Ed Sheeran once toured with Snow Patrol and Gary Lightbody, the lead of the band, actually served as Ed's back up in one performance of Chasing Cars. He talks briefly on how depressing Coldplay's Magic actually is, and, "Christ Martin, buddy, I'm telling you – you deserve to be happy. And as entitled as this may sound, we deserve to hear happier songs from Coldplay, too." It takes a few more minutes until he falls into a state where he's more comfortable speaking in front of a camera, delivering lines upon lines about each band and sharing his insights on some of his favorite songs from both artists.

That's not so bad, he muses when he watches the video back in his dorms. With a deep breath, he brings out his camera, the one Sehun used to record him for his scholarship application to K-ARTS, and sets it up.

He fixes his hair in front of the mirror before pressing record, but messes it up just a little just before he yells Action! This is it, he thinks, you've succumbed to desperation and you're recording yourself because you won't make friends after your best friend left you to pursue his dream–

The red light of the camera glares at him and he summons his best smile. The stretch stings at the corners and there are butterflies in his stomach again, playing Super Mario again or some other game, but whatever. He'll do this. If he can't record himself in his room, without anyone else to see, then how can he even muster the courage to board and go on air so he can be heard by thousands of students on campus?

He clenches his fists, then parts of his lips to speak. "Hello, everyone. I am Kim Kai, and this… is my show. It doesn't have a name yet, but it will, soon. And I'll need you to help me come up with one. Doesn't have to be fancy shmancy. It just has to capture the essence of this show – that is–" He reaches for his DS from a few centimeters away, then brings it close to his face, saying, "Game reviews of long-forgotten gems. Our first stop? Dragon Quest Monsters Joker."

He cocks an eyebrow at the camera and says, "So, are you ready to take the leap? I am if you are!"

He really feels stupid right now with the silence closing in on him, a thick cold wrapping around his throat and making him choke. But the red light is still blinking. "Now, let me give you a brief background on how it all began. I'll take you back to the early 2000's where the story started with the main character jumping inside a drawer to save his sister. Silly? Sure. Exciting? Definitely."

He boots up his DS, then turns back to the camera lens and beams. "Let's have some fun!"

♬ ♬ ♬

He wakes up in the afternoon the following day. In his defense, he went to bed at sunrise just to finish editing his video, do the necessary color corrections, and add the visual effects. It was the sound capture that he spent a lot of time cleaning up – he needs a better microphone, something close to what professionals use. A simple condenser microphone might be good. He can't rely on his camera's sound capturing abilities anymore; good editing skills can only do so much.

He rolls over so that he's lying flat on his stomach and checks his phone. No new messages, just application updates. It's too early in the morning in the U.K. to be expecting any texts from Sehun. It's too late in the day to not be eating anything filling, too, says his stomach. Grudgingly, he pushes himself off his bed and takes a quick shower. He doesn't want to make the same mistake of falling on his ass in his pajamas and almost slipping off of them when someone accidentally steps on the cloth.

The campus is calm, even in the cafeteria where most of the student population congregates at odd hours. Zitao's nowhere to be seen – he probably had lunch already. Soojung isn't someone he'd expect to see in the cafeteria on a weekend, living nearby and all, and he can't remember his other classmates' names. There's the distant memory of a Taemin in his class, but that's it – all other names he recalls are that of professors'. And Joonmyun's. But he knew that even before he met Zitao and Soojung in his first class in K-ARTS.

Only then, he'd been calling Joonmyun '$uho'. Or Youtube user $udope. Both names are embarrassing, thinking about it. Also, in hindsight, he should've asked for Zitao's number already. After sharing too many classes and bugging him for broadcasting practice too many times, there's no reason to not keep in touch with Zitao; it's always nice to have… the closest he can get to a soothing presence.

He orders his usual, then looks over his shoulder, almost expecting someone to walk up to him right in the middle of placing an order. Like Joonmyun freaking Jongin out over food by creeping up on him is part of Joonmyun's schedule. Heaving a sigh, he looks for a place far away from the doors and any the air-conditioning. He takes a seat near the windows for balance – the warm temperature outside and the heat of his ramyun are enough to keep him alive in the coldness of the cafeteria.

He's halfway through watching the video he'd created on his phone by the time someone walks up to him, a shadow at the corner of his eyes. I was beginning to think I won't see you around, he says to himself. He might've even said it, he isn't sure, but the weird twist of Joonmyun's mouth, the way his lips fall open into a tiny 'o' tells him that he might have let those words slip from his lips. He doesn't hold the stare, looks back down on his ramyun and wishes the surface of the soup were more reflective. That way, he won't have to address Joonmyun's gaze directly. He can look through his food and pretend he's studying it, trying to pick out the ingredients.

That way, he won't have to address Joonmyun's light laughter and the grin on his lips before he crouches just a little, then 'knocks' on his table.

"You can sit, hyung, just so you know," Jongin says after a while, then stands from his seat to pull the chair for Joonmyun. Joonmyun chuckles in response, then takes a seat and sits upright, facing forward. He looks as if he's dying to say something, lips pressed together in what might as well be a shit-eating grin, except he isn't baring all of his teeth. It makes Jongin's insides turn. It's just the hunger, Jongin. You should eat more. "You don't go home on weekends, hyung?"

Joonmyun lets out a loud exhale and lays an energy bar and a cup of coffee on the table. "I don't have anything to come home to," he says, then hums to fill the silence. He's doing that thing again where he's sort of withdrawing and sort of putting himself out there. Like he's saying, if there's anything you want to know, Jongin, you just have to ask nicely. He doesn't, though. Instead, he meets Jongin's gaze. "And you?"

"It's a bit far from uni. Not much of a chore to go back, but eh." What he means to say is, but if I go back, they might just ask me questions again. And I'm sick of answering questions that I don't want to hear. I can't answer all of their 'why's. "I can concentrate on getting things done better. When I'm alone."

Joonmyun stops drumming his fingers on the table. Jongin feels his body jerk, but only a little. "Sorry. I didn't mean to–"

"It's okay, hyung. It's not like I need to concentrate on eating or something."

Joonmyun offers a smile. "I promise to leave as soon as you're done. I… just took a quick break from doing my thesis. Thought I'd head out and actually deal with people rather than stay in my cave the whole day and rot in thesis hell."

Jongin bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt to keep himself from laughing, but it's hard. The tickling sensation in his throat is a force too strong that he ends up chuckling at Joonmyun's display of exasperation. Joonmyun furrows his eyebrows for a moment, sucks in his bottom lip just a bit, but soon he's laughing and shaking his head. "I know, it sounds weird. I'm just tired and I really need a break," he explains, then, and works on peeling off the wrapper of his energy bar. "I've been spending the past week just focusing on my thesis. And even the semester before, actually – that was proposal period."

"That sounds tough," Jongin mumbles.

"It isn't. Writing your thesis, at least. What's hard is staying focused and driven to finish on time instead of 'taking things slowly'." He splays his hands on the table, then clenches his fists. "At one point, you'll just… combust."

Jongin nods. It sounds a lot like Sooneung, only more difficult. Just when you think that life has already hit you with the worst possible thing, it kicks you right in the ass and laughs at you in the face, saying, well here's another one for you, kid.

"I can distract you," Jongin offers. Joonmyun's eyes shoot up. Jongin catches on faster this time, clenches his fists in tandem with his quickening heartbeat. "I mean, maybe there's something that we can do together to make you feel better? More relaxed? Do you…" Do you want to dig your own grave, Jongin? Possibly. "Remix stuff? That can be pretty fun."

Joonmyun tilts his head to the side, eyes squinted and crinkling at the corners. His lips are still pressed thinly together, but the tight corners have eased a little, tugging up now. Like he's considering the offer but he's not quite sure yet. Or that maybe he's thinking of the best way to tell Jongin off. Jongin does him a favor, retracts his statement with a wave of the hand. "I mean, it's just a suggestion. I'm not yet that busy and you've been giving me hints on what the qualifying test might be so, y'know, it's only… right for me to help you out in some way? Pay you back?" He scratches the back of his neck, feeling warmth crawl under his skin. His throat clenches around nothing, or every single word threatening to spill from his lips. He gulps down hard. "And well, you are one of the reasons I passed the scholarship application. I did a video DJing thing for the skills test and… yeah."

Joonmyun snorts, the corners of his mouth pulling down but his cheeks tugging up. It's a weird contrast. It almost looks as if he really doesn't know what to do, or that he does – he just hasn't decided how to go about this yet. Joonmyun's response is a shake of the head, and a faint, "Silly kid," under his breath. "I don't want to be a bother. Having lunch with you here?" He raises his coffee and the tiny snack bar. That's hardly lunch for normal people doing their thesis. "This is enough a break. It's refreshing."

Joonmyun scratches the surface of the table, then, and Jongin's tempted to slap Joonmyun's hand because the soft screeching sound is prickling the shell of his ear. It hurts. He sits on his hands, instead, and mumbles, "Hyung, stop that. You're not supposed to do that to school property."

"You have a weird way of displaying concern," Joonmyun says, voice lilting.

"I'm concerned for my ears. There's a screeching sound." He winces when Joonmyun does it again, holding his gaze this time. "That. It's annoying."

"Am I an annoyance, Jonginnie?" Joonmyun asks, grinning. He does it again – once, twice, thrice, until Jongin can't count anymore and the way Jonginnie had rolled off Joonmyun's tongue ringing in his ears. "Am I, huh?"

It's not you, hyung. It's just– "Stop it, hyung." He narrows his his eyes, then juts out his bottom lip. "Please."

Joonmyun stops, then drops the rest of his fingers to the table. His stare hasn't waned though, and the loud thumping in Jongin's chest hasn't subsided either. It's like they're competing for something, any semblance of victory over the other, but haven't they both won and lost at the same time? The screeching sound is gone, Jongin never said Joonmyun was annoying, they've both given up and given in. There's nothing to triumph over anymore. Still, Joonmyun stays there, head cocked to the side, eyes fixed on nothing but Jongin's own. Jongin can see himself reflected in them, and if he squints then maybe he can see more. He doesn't. Instead, he takes a deep breath, pulls away, and drops his gaze back to his meal.

He frees his hands from his legs and shakes them a little in his sides. They're still cold. He can feel his thundering pulse in his palms, making him shiver.

"Stay a little longer?" Joonmyun says, then turns to take a sip of his coffee. Jongin looks back at his food tray and thinks, oh, there's only one piece of kimchi left. He doesn't say anything, but he does cut the kimchi into three small pieces, pops one slice in his mouth and chews on it as slowly as possible, nodding in Joonmyun's direction.

He can see Joonmyun's smile at the corners of the coffee cup. And his pulse quickens all the more.

♬ ♬ ♬

The first thing that crosses Jongin's mind when he wakes up on Monday morning is, Shit. Three days until the big test.

The thought leaves his mind just as quickly as it hits him, though, when he walks into his History of Film class. Jinki's making them watch a 70's film today, reminding them every so often to pay close attention to the smallest details in the film. "We won't be having an exam, but I will ask you to submit a one-pager summarizing the film based on certain plot points I'll be giving you later. Remember: be thorough. Be keen. It's the small details that make a difference."

Jinki's words ring in Jongin's ears loud enough that sometimes they drown the dialogue. Focus, he reminds himself, squints hard at the screen in front of them. The male and female leads in the movie have finally met. And to think they're past the halfway mark in the film.

History of Film class ends in a breeze, and it has Jongin groaning in frustration because he might have fallen asleep in certain parts. "Projected on screen are the points I want you to discuss. The last question is important – I want you to be as honest as possible at tell me what's wrong with the film and what can make it better," Jinki says, and Jongin quickly scribbles under his notes, underlined twice, BETTER MUSICAL SCORING!!! The dialogue was a bit stiff and stilted, but he can't be sure – maybe that's how people really spoke during that time. Maybe they really loved using some high level of formal speaking that Jongin only hears in period dramas these days.

He adds a small note near the comment he'd written in all caps, then draws an asterisk on top of it once he's done. Pretty sure people don't address themselves and others in third person all the time? Dialogue sounds pretty detached, it says. He adds a sad face before shutting his notebook closed and slipping it in his file case.

Soojung slips beside him and lays a hand on his shoulder. "So. Three days," she says as they make their way to the cafeteria, then wiggles her eyebrows at her. For all of Soojung's being a great seatmate during class (she doesn't make side comments during discussions) and study partner (she has her earphones plugged on all the time; Jongin doesn't have to think of things to say to fill the silence), she's a big tease. Loves poking fun at Jongin's misery, academic or otherwise. Not that Jongin has a lot of those, but Soojung does make it a point to bring up his obsession about $uho even during lunch. And yes, even in Zitao's presence.

"I shouldn't have stayed with you two. Should've grabbed takeout and camped out outside my next class," Jongin grumbles after swallowing his food.

"FYI, we're stuck with each other the whole day today. Tuesdays and Wednesdays, we rarely meet," Zitao comments. He takes a sip of his tea, then mumbles, "I need something sweet. Hot chocolate?" He turns to Jongin with a smile.

"What? I ordered this. This drink is mine!"

"Come on, the least you could do after exploiting me for your broadcasting test thinggie is buy me a sweet drink!" Zitao tugs at Jongin's shirtsleeve, then says, "Come on, come on, come on–"

Jongin snarls at him but pushes his glass in Zitao's direction, anyway. To Soojung, he says, "Don't say anything."

Soojung shakes her head for a while, then whispers, "Whipped for $uho."

"You're such a great friend," Jongin groans. Title subject to change. Still debatable, yes.

"Aww, thanks. I'm really touched." Soojung draws her hands close to her chest and coos a little. It doesn't suit her; it makes her sound as if she's drowning.

Zitao becomes more receptive to requests on broadcasting practice, though. Between their Introduction to Sound and Semiotics classes, they do a practice radio show where Zitao plays the role of the caller. They're doing a segment on love forecast and advice today. Jongin lost some of his sanity in their previous class, after they were taught how to splice out repetitive parts in a song just by reading the sound waves, so it takes him longer to answer this time. Zitao snaps a finger in front of him – once, twice, thrice, until Zitao has to wave his hands just a few inches shy of his face.

"Hey bud, you still there? I think I lost you somewhere between the Pisces and the Taurus forecasts," Zitao says. His voice cracks when it peaks. Jongin files that tone under 'concern'. "Hey."

"Yeah. My brain's just fried." Jongin rubs his eyes and stretches his arms over his head, then places his hands a few inches behind him. "I'll space out in Semiotics class and just think of love all day." His voice drops one register lower as he says, "Libra: while your judgment when it comes to picking the right date has always been good, today you'll make a mistake because you made a choice to take 9 units straight. No breaks in between. There's no one else to blame but yourself."

"You do know that that'll make you lose your following, right?" Zitao says. "You don't want to tell your listeners off."

"But what if the Libra did make that stupid decision, just like us?"

Zitao snorts. "We didn't make our schedule. The grants office did."

Jongin draws his knees close to this chest and rests his head on them. "Fuck. You're right. He lifts his head for a moment and says, "Sorry, Libra!"

The thing is, he does feel like he's prepared enough for this exam. For all the knows, he didn't have to go through all the trouble just to assure himself that he'll be able to ace this test or pass it, at the very least. It feels… different, though, like he isn't just doing this for himself. That's the problem with him – once someone places pressure on him, places their trust on him, he tortures himself into thinking that whatever ounce of effort he puts into excelling in things won't be enough.

It's a bad habit he's developed over time. He blames no one but himself for it. Maybe experience, as well, but then it's been years since–

"Time for class," Zitao says, poking the crown of Jongin's hair. "C'mon, pick yourself up. I'll buy you ice cream later."

It's not the same. You're not Sehun, Jongin wants to say. That's being damn ungrateful and rude, though, so instead he offers Zitao a smile and takes Zitao's offered hand.

Semiotics class is easier on their brains this time around. Maybe it's the initial shock of the subject got to them last week, or just the fatigue brought about by only having 30 minutes of rest between classes. It could have been worse, though. Jongin has read some tales on students in K-ARTS having to run from one room to another because they only have 10 minutes of rest between one major class to another. And of course they can't afford to be late. That's the price you pay for pursuing something you want. It's the same price that Jongin is willing pay just to get into the broadcasting club.

He hasn't even looked at other organizations. The debate society's an option, but he wants to try something new and get out of his comfort zone.

Zitao does end up buying him ice cream after their Semiotics class. They visit an ice cream parlor nearby, just outside the campus. It isn't too far from the game shop that Zitao mentioned the week before and, really, Jongin would've wanted to visit the store, but he's much too drained by academics to even budge. Soojung's words still ring in his ears, too – So. Three days. Three more days and he'll be free from worrying about his club membership application. Three more days and he'll know his fate in K-ARTS for the next few months until he gets in an organization, if he doesn't land a spot in the broadcasting club.

"You're a messy eater," Zitao says before he excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He calls out to Jongin one last time, then gestures at his things, mouthing, if one of those goes missing, I'll pinch your nipples. Jongin only rolls his eyes in response but keeps his eyes glued to Zitao's things, anyway. That's what friends do – look out for each other and look over each other's stuff. Look at both sides before advising the other to cross the road because there's no harm in trying, Jongin. C'mon, give it a shot!

"He's right, you're a messy eater," comes a familiar voice from beside him. Jongin would look up if he could, but the prospect of Zitao screaming at the loss of one of his things keeps him from teasing his gaze from what he's supposed to be guarding over. "Seriously, you eat ice cream like an eight-year-old. Jongin–"

Joonmyun holds him by his chin and tilts up his face, then wipes the chocolate ice cream dripping from a corner of his mouth with his thumb. "There, better," Joonmyun says once he's done, holding Jongin at an arm's length like he's examining his handiwork. He sucks in his thumb between his lips, then, tongue peeking out just a little to lick off the ice cream that had caught on his nail. He's still smiling at Jongin like he's a little kid in the park, though. And Joonmyun's that cute older kid who's crouching in front of Jongin and giving him a balloon just so he'd stop crying.

"Thanks," Jongin mumbles, then shifts in his seat. He moves to his left, making room for Joonmyun, then taps the empty space beside him. "Hyung, sit."

It almost rounds rude, like Jongin's commanding Joonmyun to fill that gap between himself and the edge of the chair with his presence, but Joonmyun keeps a smile plastered on his lips, easy on the corners, almost reaching his eyes. He settles next to Jongin, then, bumps his hip into Jongin's own to make more room for himself, and that's when Jongin realizes that his plan has backfired. The intent is to still the wild thumping in his chest, not make it worse.

Wrong move, Jongin, says a voice at the back of his mind. Jongin resists the urge to groan and licks his ice cream again, careful not to get any at the corners of his lips this time around.

Jongin maneuvers the silence into a conversation about waveforms and Joonmyun's latest song recommendation, mentioning that it's probably great for road trips or long travels. "Not that I'd know. I've… never gone out of Seoul, ever," Jongin says, and Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow at him. "Don't judge! I just… don't get much time to have fun, y'know? It's always been a school-house routine for me ever since. Umma and appa, they… didn't like it whenever I played during weekdays."

"I know how that feels," Joonmyun whispers. Jongin looks up from the tip of his ice cream cone and waits for Joonmyun's next statement, but nothing comes. Instead, he turns to his coffee, uncapping it and letting some of the steam out. His drink is a shade of black so dark that he can see Joonmyun's reflection on it.

"So, are you ready?" Joonmyun says after a while. He pulls away from his coffee, lips coming off with a dull pop. They look so soft and pink and warm, Jongin notes. Maybe it's just the ice cream freezing all the sense in his brain. He should stop asking for ice cream from his friends. "The test is in three days. I'm pretty excited."

Jongin frowns. "Excited to see me suffer?"

Joonmyun chuckles. "Excited to see you in action," he replies. A corner of his lips curls up even more. "If you've learned anything from my videos, at all."

Jongin freezes. The tips of his fingers are cold and he's about 70% sure that it's the work of the ice cream, but it's hard to tell – Joonmyun has the ability to make Jongin stop in his tracks, stop thinking, and lose all logic altogether. Jongin had thought before, when he found out that $uho was studying in K-ARTS and that he was in the broadcasting club, that all the idol magic would fade into dust when he finally meets $uho, but it's still there. Joonmyun isn't in his $uho outfit and really, thank God he isn't, but there's the same brand of magic in the tilt of his chin, in the way he holds his head up high and looks at Jongin with some sort of confidence that Jongin never thought anyone could place in him. It's there in the way he pins Jongin with his stare, steady and strong, in the way he moves even closer and nudges Jongin's arm with his elbow.

It's in the way he makes Jongin's insides turn when they touch and even when he pulls away. Jongin can feel his pulse even stronger in his palms, the backs of his knees and his elbows. Joonmyun isn't even touching him anymore. He's just staring at him, a funny sort of smile on his lips, like he's saying, Don't tell me you're backing out now.

"I'll do my best," Jongin mumbles. He pops the tip of the cone in his mouth and chews loudly in the hope of drowning the loud thumping in his chest that rings in his ears. It doesn't. "I'll… try to make you proud?"

"Just have fun," Joonmyun says now, like he hadn't been challenging Jongin days ago to not let him down. He reaches out, then, grabbing the hand Jongin had used to hold his ice cream earlier, and gives it a light squeeze. Jongin tenses and his free hand twitches, an involuntary action that might be his brain saying, Don't do that, hyung, stop doing that– but he doesn't say anything. He just stays there, like he's waiting for something else, waiting for Joonmyun to link their fingers together for some weird reason. No, Joonmyun won't do that. What he can possibly do it drop his hand to his side, finish his coffee in silence, then stand from his seat. Ruffle Jongin's hair before leaving because he's done that before, once or twice.

Joonmyun slides his hand up, settling on Jongin's wrist. He rubs slow circles on the jut of Jongin's bone with his thumb. "Hey. Relax. I know you'll do just fine. Probably even better than me."

Jongin pulls his hand away, and for a moment he thinks he sees a flash of something in Joonmyun's eyes then it's gone, replaced by a more relaxed look, a small upward curl of the lip. "Don't make me laugh," is the only thing Jongin says in reply. In a weird rush of confidence, he moves closer to Joonmyun and leans his head on Joonmyun's shoulder. The fit is awkward, puts strain on his hips, but the hitch of Joonmyun's breath is almost worth it. He closes his eyes and stays there for a while, waiting for Joonmyun to jerk him away. Joonmyun doesn't.

♬ ♬ ♬

D-day arrives sooner than Jongin would like. One minute, he's in bed, rolling until the sheets get tangled in his legs; the next minute, he's frowning at his breakfast and Soojung is laughing at him. The gentle pats on the shoulder calm him down a bit, but not enough to ease the knots of tension in his shoulders. He hasn't stopped clenching and unclenching his fists since he's taken a sip of seaweed soup. And he hasn't picked up his spoon ever since.

"Hey, eat. You'll need an alert mind for later. It starts with the stomach," Soojung says. She nudges him in his side, then motions to pick up his spoon. "Seriously, do I have to feed you just so you would eat?"

Jongin frowns at him for a moment, then parts his lips. Soojung jabs at his arm but feeds him some kimbap, nonetheless.

It isn't until an hour after that he finally calms his nerves enough that he can walk down the corridor to the Broadcasting building without thinking of running back to the Film building. He's been through club applications a number of times; this can't be any different, right? He won't screw up more than his lack of sense will permit and he won't make a fool of himself. He won't stumble on his words – Zitao will kill him if he does. He won't put Soojung and Zitao's efforts to waste.

He turns to his side and offers Soojung a small frown. "Do I really have to do this?"

"Do you want to keep your scholarship?"

Jongin narrows his eyes at her. "I hate you."

"Thanks," Soojung replies. She holds Jongin by the shoulders and pushes him forward, closer to the door of the club room. "I hate you more."

The club room is blessedly silent when he arrives. There are some unknown faces inside – can be some people he's passed in the corridor, given that the broadcasting and film tracks share a few common classes. There's a tall guy whose smile makes up at least half of his face, and then two small guys sharing earphones and scribbling notes on a print out of a waveform. One of the small guys stands, then makes his way to Joonmyun's desk at the same time that Joonmyun swivels his seat closer to the table. They bump into each other and the small guy holds his knees for a second, but soon he's making space for himself on Joonmyun's seat as he pins Joonmyun in place, one knee pressed to the edge of Joonmyun's seat.

Huh, is Jongin's first thought; his second, That's… sweet.

"Oh hey, Jongin!" comes Joonmyun's greeting, but tiny guy still hasn't budged, still has his hands on either side of Joonmyun's chair. Joonmyun manages to give him a wave, though, and then he's fastening his hands on tiny guy's waist and craning his neck to whisper something in tiny guy's ear.

If the test is to wiggle out of that guy's grasp then Joonmyun-hyung is so dead, a part of him says, but he shakes that thought away, pushes it to the back of his mind. He gives Joonmyun a small wave in response. Tiny guy takes a step back after a while, but Jongin doesn't miss the way he rests one hand on Joonmyun's waist and the way Joonmyun's hand lingers more than it should on tiny guy's stomach. Not that there's a standard number of seconds that one's hand can stay on someone else's body part that's been approved by whatever international body – Jongin just… thinks it took longer than it should. Five seconds too long. Not that he's counting.

"You're here early," Joonmyun says, smiling. Tiny guy walks up to him and stops just beside him, then slides a hand around Joonmyun's shoulder. Oh for Pete's sake– "We're supposed to start at 11. It's only quarter 'til the hour."

"The earlier we finish, the sooner we can eat?" Jongin answers. He tries to wear his best smile, but he can feel the stretch at the corners. It means he's wearing his ugly smile. Fuck. "I was… hoping we could, uh, have lunch after this." He looks at Joonmyun. "Maybe. Because I want to know what you think about the thing."

"The thing is the result of your test," says tiny guy. Jongin makes a mental note to not kick strangers, especially those who have a say in his admission to the broadcasting club. "So you're the cute kid Joonmyun-hyung was talking about, huh?" Tiny guy gives Jongin a once over, eyes twinkling. Shit, Jongin thinks. He probably should have gelled up his hair, pushed back his bangs. "Not bad."

Joonmyun nudges tiny guy in his side, laughing a little. "Yes, he's very cute. Adorable, even," Joonmyun says. Jongin stops hearing other things after very cute. He might be combusting inside already. Joonmyun doesn't seem to be fazed, though, so he's probably still in one piece. "Jongin, this in Byun Baekhyun. He's the vice president of the broadcasting club. Baekhyun, this is Kim Jongin. Play nice."

"Aww hyung, c'mon. I don't bite," Baekhyun replies. His bottom lip is jutted out and Joonmyun only laughs in response, but Jongin doesn't miss the way Joonmyun's eyes flit to Baekhyun's lips before looking back up. Baekhyun turns to Jongin with a grin, then, tugging hard at the corners of his lips, then extends a hand in Jongin's direction. "Pleasure to meet you. Hyung couldn't stop talking about you."

"That's not true," Joonmyun argues.

"Right. Because that would be your thesis," Baekhyun answers. He maintains the smile on his lips, though. "I think this will be interesting." To Soojung, he says, "Oh hey, you're making friends. Isn't that nice?"

"Shut up, oppa," Soojung replies. When Jongin looks over his shoulder, he sees Soojung smiling. It looks deadly. Ominous. "So, are you going to test him or not?"

"Are you the coach? Because if you are, then I have to tell this kid to not keep his hopes up."

"He's not a kid," Joonmyun replies. He reaches out to fluff Jongin's hair, then turns to Baekhyun. "If he's a kid then you're a preschooler."

Baekhyun's eyes widen in response as he screams, "That's foul!"

Joonmyun introduces Jongin to the other people in the room after that. Other tiny guy is Do Kyungsoo and is supposedly a year younger than Baekhyun, but they're in the same year and are both music majors. Chanyeol is in the College of Music, as well, but he's specializing in composition rather than music production. "The make my knowledge on sound seem like a joke," Joonmyun says as they walk down the narrow aisle to the booth, and Jongin only laughs. Kyungsoo makes some disgruntled sound in the background that sounds a lot like, Sound and music are two different things, hyung.

"And here we are," Joonmyun says, voice barely above a whisper. He turns the doorknob and swings the door open, then lets everyone through.

They stay on the side of the booth that's connected to the passageway for the duration of the orientation. Joonmyun defers the task of explaining the exam to Baekhyun, and Baekhyun rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue at Joonmyun before turning to Jongin. "The test has three parts. The first part is fairly easy – tongue twisters. You just have to deliver three sets of tongue twisters in thirty seconds. Make an error and that's a point against you. Make another error, and you get a five-second deduction for the next test. Make three errors and you're out. That's it. It's the end of your test."

Jongin blinks a few times, then looks at Soojung. Soojung shrugs her shoulders, frowning. Joonmyun holds two thumbs up at him, though, like he's so sure Jongin won't make three misses and get kicked out even before he reaches the second round.

"Okay. Got it," Jongin replies. He takes a deep breath, then asks, "What's the second test?"

"That you will find out once you pass the first," Baekhyun replies. He winks at Jongin, then asks, "So, ready to begin?"

"As in right now?" He isn't expecting to be given enough time to practice the tongue twisters, but still– "Uh, right. Sure. Let's start. Anytime you're ready."

Baekhyun grins, canines peeking. The twinkle in his eyes makes Jongin shiver more than have more hope. He hands Jongin a sheet of paper, then, and Jongin only gets two seconds to peek at the tongue twisters. They look short, but already Jongin can see a few tricky words that he's always had difficult pronouncing. He runs his practice sessions with Zitao in his head, again and again until he can find his voice again and feel his throat become warm. With a deep breath, he turns to Baekhyun and nods, then holds the sheet of paper close to his face. He gives all three tongue twisters a quick glance before returning to the first to start at Baekhyun's signal.

"And… go!"

Jongin passes the first test in a matter of twenty seconds. Not the record he was aiming for – it's well above his expectations, if he were to be honest with himself. You have to enunciate your words properly without wasting air time, he remembers Joonmyun saying a few days back, and it's the same thought that had carried him through the first part of the exam. Joonmyun hasn't spoken yet, hasn't even budged from where he is, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him. Soojung gives Jongin a thumbs-up, and that prompts Kyungsoo to take a step forward to give Jongin a background on the next part of the exam.

"The second part is all about delivery. Treat this as your standard voice acting, except you have to inject just the right amount of emotions into the lines you're saying because more than anything else, you're selling a product, not an emotion." Kyungsoo adjusts his glasses and Jongin does the same, finding nothing else to do with his trembling fingers. Just beyond Kyungsoo's shoulders, he sees Joonmyun smiling, laughing a little. He fixes his attention back on Kyungsoo when Kyungsoo clears his throat.

"Three spiels, each fifteen seconds long. You're doing voice overs for three different products." Kyungsoo hands him three sheets of paper, and he studies the headings on each sheet before turning to the next. "If you go over the fifteen-second mark, Chanyeol will sound off a buzzer. You'll have to move on to the next spiel, then. You have to complete at least two to progress to the final round."

He gestures for Chanyeol to move closer, then turns back to Jongin. "And to make your life worse, he'll distract you while you deliver your spiel. He's good at that."

Chanyeol frowns at Kyungsoo. To Jongin, he says, "I won't make this easy. I may look nice but I'm tough."

Behind them, Baekhyun snorts. Joonmyun covers his mouth with his hand. His shoulders tremble a little. His eyes are laughing, though. Jongin risks a quick glance before turning his attention back to the papers in his hand.

"Ready?" Kyungsoo asks.

Jongin takes a deep breath, then nods. "Okay, let's get started."

Kyungsoo blows the whistle and Jongin starts reading.

He doesn't run into any trouble until he gets to the middle of a spiel on beauty shampoos. Chanyeol starts dancing in front of him, limbs uncoordinated and the smile on his lips goofy, but his eyes are still fixed on the stopwatch in his hand. Jongin feels a familiar tickling sensation in his throat for a moment, but he tries to flush that away, finishing just as Chanyeol is about to press the buzzer with his other hand. The third spiel is tricky – it requires a bit of singing. Jongin narrows his eyes at the spiel instead of groaning out loud and sings the stupid campaign jingle for the food seasoning brand. From a corner of his eye, he sees Soojung lean closer, chin propped on her hand.

When he ends, he looks up at Joonmyun and smiles. A corner of Joonmyun's mouth tugs up in a smirk as he brings his hands together, clapping.

"You're pretty good," Joonmyun then says, pushing himself away from the wall and taking slow steps towards Jongin. His voice drops a few notches lower and his gaze has turned sharp, discerning, assessing. There's still the playful glimmer in his eyes, though, in the way the corners crinkle, and this allows Jongin to breathe a little. It eases the knots in his stomach that makes his insides turn. Joonmyun is silent for a few more seconds, and then he's resting a hand on Jongin's shoulder. He gives Jongin a gentle squeeze. "I'm really, really impressed."

Over his shoulder, Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and Chanyeol give Jongin a thumbs-up. Baekhyun stands a bit closer to Joonmyun than the others. Or maybe that's just Jongin's shitty vision at work. He hadn't cleaned his glasses today, in a fit of nervousness. "Thanks," he still manages to say, and bows a little. "I'm… glad I met your expectations."

"There's just one last test," Joonmyun rushes. "And that one, you'll be doing with me."

Jongin furrows his eyebrows. "Hyung, what do you–"

Joonmyun takes a deep breath and looks up at Jongin. "You'll be co-hosting a show with me today, here in the booth. It's just a pretend show, but it will still be recorded. Treat it as you would any radio show on air – we'll be taking song requests and calls, but nothing is rehearsed."

Holy shit, Jongin thinks. I'm actually going on air with Joonmyun-hyung. Granted, it isn't live, but how many people get the chance to board with their idols and get the chance to impress them from up close? How many people get to share the stage with $uho and live to tell the tale? Exactly how many people get the chance to influence people with their views in music and in life?

You're a lucky man, Jongin, he tells himself. He emphasizes 'lucky'. Tells himself, Don't you dare screw this up.

"Sounds exciting," Jongin replies. Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow at him, lips falling open into small 'o'. "It's an honor to share the booth with you, hyung."

Joonmyun blinks at him for a moment. a light flush creeping to his cheeks, and then he's back, all smiles and bright eyes. "Then let's get started," Joonmyun replies, then. He drops his hand to his side, letting the cold pads of his fingers trace a line down Jongin's arm. Jongin shivers.

If the control side of the booth was already void of any noise, the recording side sounds even more quiet. Nothing, save for the rustling of their clothes whenever they shift in their positions, breaks the silence in this side of the room. Jongin hasn't really been in a sound booth before, with the intent of recording a show or any piece of music, but he has seen these things in Joonmyun's videos before, has seen them in Wikipedia and in pictures, even in movies. It still feels different, though, when he slips the headphones on and all the white noise and the low thrumming of the light in the background fades into silence. It feels surreal. It feels thrilling. His fingers grow cold and his heart thumps so hard and fast in his chest that he fears it might jump off his body.

Joonmyun's fingers feel cold against his own skin when Joonmyun reaches for his hand from under the table. "You'll do fine," Joonmyun whispers. He turns to Chanyeol on the other side of the booth and raises a hand, then flashes a thumbs-up. "Relax. Just enjoy."

Familiar music comes in, and Jongin recognizes it as the opening music for $uho's videos. He turns to Joonmyun with wide eyes, and Joonmyun holds his stare. There's a bright smile on his lips that says more than it should, so Jongin doesn't ask anything, doesn't say anything. He just focuses on their intertwined hands under the table. The music hits the part that Jongin knows will go into a volume drop, so he takes a deep breath and turns to face front, leaning closer to the microphone in front of him.

Joonmyun drops his hands to his side and pulls his own microphone closer, then adjusts the pop filter. He coughs away from the microphone, then comes back with a different look on his face – something more self-assured, more confident. More of a combination of $uho's confidence and Joonmyun's charm. A little less of the guy who had wiped the stray ice cream off of Jongin's lips and licked it off his own thumb.

The volume drops even lower and Joonmyun closes his eyes. He moves closer to the mic, then parts his lips, preparing to speak.

"Good morning, Korea National University of Arts! It's a wonderful day outside, perfect for some fun and action, but what are you guys doing?"

Jongin chuckles and speaks into his microphone. "Having their own brand of fun in their classrooms, nose-deep into their books," he replies. Joonmyun's lips twist into a small smile and he nods at Jongin, urging him to go on. "But in another lifetime, I bet you're dying to get out of those rooms, out of those books, and raring to take a plunge into something more exciting. Can I get a hell, yeah?"

On the other side of the glass, Chanyeol mouths, what the hell is that supposed to be? He pulls up a sound clip, nonetheless, of a crowd saying the exact same thing.

"But the truth is, we're all nice little students of this university. Daddy's little girls and boys, obedient as always," Joonmyun continues, picking up from where Jongin has left off. "So let us take you to wherever you want to be, to a far-away place where there's nothing to worry about but what fun activity to do next. This is DJ $uho–"

Joonmyun turns to look at Jongin. Not missing a beat, Jongin says, "And this is DJ Kai–"

Joonmyun points at Jongin while he delivers his next spiel as if saying, ball's in your court now. "And we're here to take you on an express trip to the land of fun," Joonmyun says, and Jongin uses the time it takes Joonmyun to finish his lines to run through a roster of songs in his mind. Fun, fun. None of the depressing shit you listen to, Jongin. Think of early dismissal and surprise holidays and breaks and–

"First up, we have a fresh and upbeat track from Walk the Moon." He scribbles a note as he delivers this, then passes the piece of paper to Joonmyun. He catches Joonmyun's soft laughter inches away, catches the crazy smile on his lips and the way he shakes his head like he means to say, Really now, Jongin, are you really making them listen to that track? An obscure song from an obscure band? This is only for music enthusiasts– But he doesn't care. If there's anything that he's learned from watching $uho's videos, from listening to $uho's recommendations, it's this – any good song, no matter how obscure, will always be a great hit and a great opener. So he takes a deep breath, holds Joonmyun's gaze as he moves closer to the microphone to deliver his next lines.

"Say no more – just relax, get lost in the beats, and listen to this track. This is Shut Up and Dance from their latest single of the same title."

Joonmyun presses the back of his hands to his lips, still grinning. His shoulders are shaking. Jongin takes it as a sign to go on.

"You are listening to 106.1 K-ARTS FM, the hottest university station in Seoul."

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