rustle | infinite/exo: there's only one chance to take a picture (4/5)

It's a series of mistakes today, Myungsoo muses as he unlocks his door and lets Baekhyun inside his flat. He'd insisted that he's fine, told Baekhyun that he'll survive, he can make it up the stairs without falling flat on his face. "I'm just tired. I won't do anything I regret, I swear," he even reasoned out, but Baekhyun only responded by holding up the plastic bag filled with chips and beer that they'd gotten from the convenience store. And Baekhyun was smiling one of his softer smiles, the one that went well with the usual tight knot of his eyebrows while practicing easing into a light lift. It was one of his favorite looks on Baekhyun, second only to Baekhyun losing it completely and cackling with reckless abandon. It was useless fighting back, so he gave up and let Baekhyun open the door of the cab for him. He paid for the fare, though, and was the one to text Sunggyu that i'm home. with baekhyun. he insisted to get down at my place. i'll be a good boy.

you bought drinks? is Sunggyu's reply. Myungsoo hesitates for a moment, thumbs hovering the screen, then types, yeah. just beer. you know what happened earlier. i need this.

But you don't need Baekhyun there – maybe that's what Sunggyu will say in reply. It makes sense – he's always been at peace being alone. Silence helps him think, helps him recover. He spent the first twenty-four hours following Woohyun's departure in his room, the only light on his table lamp, debugging a tricky JavaScript code. But Sunggyu doesn't say it. Instead, he answers, ok. his first vocal practice is at 11. make sure he gets to sm on time.

i promise, hyung, Myungsoo types. As soon as the message goes through, he lays his phone face down on the table and washes the cans of beer in running water.

He finds Baekhyun looking around the living room when he resurfaces from the kitchen. He left Baekhyun at the couch earlier, rummaging through his mess of a bag, and now Baekhyun's near the shelves where he keeps his CD collection. The most extensive one is DBSK's, but there's no mistaking the still-wrapped CDs of 'NamWoo'. He tosses two bags of chips in Baekhyun's direction, then, just before Baekhyun can lean even close to squint at the text. Baekhyun manages to catch both with ease – the first with his hand and the second with his face. He scrunches his face at the impact, almost falls to the floor on his ass, but he's not as tired as Myungsoo had thought. He's still on his feet, pinching the tip of his nose as he refocuses his vision.

"Yum," Baekhyun mumbles in lieu of a complaint, and Myungsoo laughs. It's so natural, so spontaneous, delivered without much thought that it tickles him in the right places, knocks all the air he'd lost earlier back in his lungs. Baekhyun keeps at it, rubbing and pinching and blowing air at his nose, and Myungsoo just keeps shaking his head as he laughs. You're impossible, he wants to say. You make the impossible possible.

"There, that's better," Baekhyun whispers after a while. Myungsoo's breath hitches, the laughter that was once spilling from his lips dissipating into silence. His pulse doesn't quicken yet, though, just beats steadily inside him in a rhythmic motion. His insides aren't turning and lurching. Then Baekhyun puts down the chips on the small table in front of the couch and makes his way to where Myungsoo is, taking slow and small steps. He stops when the tips of their toes bump, when Myungsoo jerks back and hits the wall with a low 'thud'.

Myungsoo drops his gaze from Baekhyun's face to his feet. His socks are bright green. There are tiny prints on it that he can't make out in the dim lighting. And he's wiggling his toes. Myungsoo laughs some more, just faint wisps of sound enough to pull Baekhyun even closer because what else is there to do? His words are eluding him. They've run away with Woohyun without any promise of returning. And Baekhyun's here, limbs doing the talking instead of his mouth. Maybe that's what he needs now, he muses – to use a language no one but the two of them can understand. To speak Baekhyun's language and to lean into Baekhyun's touch, to indulge in a sliver of warmth.

"Hyung got these for me a few months ago," Baekhyun begins, "When it was pretty much confirmed that I was getting the deal and–" He laughs a little. There's still the magic word for 'debut' at the back of his throat, startling all the sentences out of him in giggles. It's cute. It makes Myungsoo feel a bit warmer than he should. "Yeah. It was... one of those nice days. I finished practice early. Hyung took me out shopping because his sister wouldn't let him buy her things anymore. And–" Then Baekhyun groans, looking up at Myungsoo and pinching him in the stomach. "Hey, tonight isn't about me. It's about you. And I'm determined to get you drunk as fuck if that's what will make you smile again. C'mon give me a bright smile– Geez, what do I have to do to make you smile again, huh?"

Nothing, Myungsoo wants to say. This – the silence, the comfortable warmth, the short distance between them – is enough. So he shakes his head and lifts his gaze, meeting Baekhyun's eyes again. "It's okay. You don't have to do this. I'll wake up in the morning with a nasty headache–"

"And I'll be around to feed you seaweed soup," Baekhyun finishes. He rests his hands on Myungsoo's hips. This is familiar. If he circles his arms around Baekhyun and presses his lips to the underside of Baekhyun's jaw then maybe–, maybe things can change. Maybe he can change how things will unfold. Maybe– "Talk. I'll listen. I might fall asleep from time to time but I'll try my best to listen."

He gulps hard. He's just seen the ghost of his past an hour ago. It's not fair to purge the bad spirits with Baekhyun. He allows himself to drop his hand to Baekhyun's waist, though, allows himself to move even closer, close enough that he can feel the heat of Baekhyun's body seep into his skin. He keeps his eyes on Baekhyun's collarbones, keeps his wild, wicked thoughts to himself. "You need to get some rest. Hyung will kill me if I keep you up."

"So we'll set an alarm and wake up early, grab some yummy breakfast somewhere if you don't trust me to cook seaweed soup for you."

It's not that, Myungsoo wants to say. It's just that I don't trust myself to wake up and not feel something different inside me, for you.

"What if we oversleep?" Myungsoo says, then. He takes a deep breath. Baekhyun still smells like sweat and snow and a thousand bad decisions. "I do that sometimes, knock my alarm out and–"

"We won't," Baekhyun assures him. Baekhyun traces the curve of his cheek with his fingers and gives his chin a light pinch. Myungsoo looks up at that, pinches Baekhyun in the stomach this time hard enough to earn a low groan. "Wow, feisty. I think you need some beer to, y'know, calm the beast inside you or something. Are they cold now?"

Not cold enough to withstand Baekhyun's warmth. Nothing's ever too cold for that. Myungsoo nods and excuses himself to grab them a can each. Baekhyun keeps his eyes on him the whole time.

They end up sitting cross-legged on the floor, their backs rested against the foot of the couch and Baekhyun's hand atop Myungsoo's own. Baekhyun plays with Myungsoo's fingers as Myungsoo talks about the past, about Woohyun and what they would've had. They're only a beer each into their drinking session yet Baekhyun already feels too hot and the slide of their palms against each other is sticky. Messy. There are crumbs of chips on the floor and at the corners of Baekhyun's mouth but Baekhyun doesn't pause to flick them off, doesn't stop running his thumb along the length of Myungsoo's fingers as if he's committing every bump, every tiny detail to memory. As if he's trying to slow down time for both of them so they can catch up with each other, catch their breaths again.

"Thinking about it, there's nothing much to be said about the– See, it wasn't really a thing? We knew we liked each other but we never... said anything about it. Out loud. We–" Spoke with our bodies. It sounds so cliche and schmoopy in his head, but that's how it is. Their limbs knew their feelings better than their minds did. It took a while for the rest of their system to catch up and, by then, Myungsoo was already in too deep. He couldn't load up film in his SLR without remembering how he and Woohyun would compete to load film the quickest. He couldn't adjust the exposure without feeling the ghost of Woohyun's warm breath on his nape, or Woohyun's smile on the other side of the lens. He couldn't dissociate his passion with Woohyun even if he fell in love with photography first. It was hard. No, it was hell, but Woohyun made the flames of hell seem so nice, warm, and attractive. He made it seem like heaven.

"Spoke with your bodies?" Baekhyun continues. He snorts, chuckles. "Eew. That's gross. Sounds like something you'd hear in movies."

Myungsoo rolls his eyes. "Thanks. That's really comforting."

"It's... sweet, though," Baekhyun says, voice dropping to a whisper. He moves closer, his side pressed against Myungsoo's now. It's too warm. "And sad. And I think we need more beer."

Myungsoo laughs a little. He looks to his side, meeting Baekhyun's gaze. "Right. We do."

He raises their intertwined hands to hold the sealed can of beer and pops the tab open. Baekhyun takes it with his free hand, doesn't start drinking until Myungsoo has opened a can of his own. And they hold each other's gazes as their bring the cans closer to their lips, matching each other sip for sip, a hitch of the breath for a shaky exhale. It's almost like routine now – Myungsoo offers him more chips and drinks and Baekhyun takes just one chip, presses it to his lips but doesn't pop it in his mouth until Myungsoo takes a chip of his own. Baekhyun nudges him in his side and he continues in his narration because that's the only currency he can offer Baekhyun as payment for his precious time. Baekhyun nods, slow and thoughtful, and Myungsoo digs deeper into the story, trying to find something that he could at least latch onto, something that can validate all those years he's spent 'mourning' over the loss of a love that could have been wonderful. But there's nothing. All he has are memories of Woohyun's touches, of Woohyun's sweet smiles. All he has are the rubble of their 'relationship' deep inside him, waiting to be swept away and disposed for good. All he has is... a blank canvas now. He has his dirty hands to paint a picture with, to create something beautiful out of all those bad experiences that have left nasty scars on his palms.

"He's an asshole," Baekhyun says after a while. He takes a long swig of his beer, emptying it out in one big gulp. "I mean I'm sorry but– It was obvious that he liked you. Or loved you but... don't quote me on that. It was so obvious but he just... couldn't admit it to himself? Or maybe he could, but he was afraid? I dunno, Soo, I don't know this Woohyun guy of yours. All I know is that he's, well, fine, he's talented and good-looking but damn, he's awful."

Myungsoo laughs a little. "C'mon, don't hold back. You called him an asshole earlier. Surely, you can do better that."

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him. "Asswipe, then? Shitface?"

Myungsoo lets loose the ugliest snort ever and Baekhyun's eyes widen as he chuckles. He takes a deep breath, then, and says, in a faint voice, "Voldemort."

Baekhyun's eyes widen even more, and then he's losing it, face falling forward with so much force that he hits his knee and groans. And then he's erupting into a lovely peal of laughter again, completely unlike the way he sings with all the measured notes. He sounds so raw, so free, so unbound by the restrictions of singing. He's just having a great time. He throws his head back, then, a dull patch of red on his forehead, and shit. Myungsoo's chest constricts. There it is – Baekhyun's lips falling open, the corners of his mouth tugging up as a grin conquers his lips. The corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughs even harder, as beads of tears begin to glisten and catch on his lashes. His chest heaving, tiny jumps that soon even out into long leaps as he tries to catch his breath. Myungsoo losing all the feeling in his fingers when Baekhyun opens his eyes and looks at him, smiles his sweetest, most unguarded smile.

"Voldemort," Baekhyun croaks out, then cackles. His entire face is scrunched up in the weirdest, ugliest face Myungsoo has ever seen, but it still makes his stomach lurch. It's a nice lurch, though, the type that sends a warm sizzle to his abdomen and lifts the tension in his muscles. Baekhyun's laughter is like a warm quilt draped on his shoulders; his smile, a breath of fresh air after being trapped in a room for so long. And Baekhyun is beautiful even if he's caught between laughing and wheezing and just breathing again. Baekhyun is beautiful in ways that Myungsoo can't even capture in a photograph.

Snap – Baekhyun meets his gaze and tilts his head as if asking, what, there's nothing wrong with laughing so hard, is there? Come on, don't judge. Snap – he shakes his head and Baekhyun juts out his bottom lip, then sticks out his tongue. He's just started waving the white flag; this is a losing battle. Snap – Baekhyun leans closer, untangling the link of their hands, then cups Myungsoo's cheeks with them. He presses down at the corners of Myungsoo's lips with his thumbs, gives them a light rub. Myungsoo can feel Baekhyun's pulse on his skin, can feel them tapping a beat on the swell of his bottom lip. "Smile. For me. Please?" Baekhyun says, voice so soft he could have been whispering. But he isn't. Myungsoo can feel Baekhyun's words on his skin, can feel the vibrations of Baekhyun's voice where Baekhyun's holding him so close. So he nods and leans into the touch, letting Baekhyun pulling up at the corners of his mouth.

Baekhyun inches even closer until their foreheads bump, until the tips of their noses touch. Myungsoo takes a deep breath. There's alcohol and sweat and the scent of something sweet in Baekhyun's breath. They've been eating nothing but salty chips the whole time. So maybe Baekhyun is sweet, does taste like chocolate. If Myungsoo wants to find out then all he has to do is to move even closer, to lean in, until he can feel the warmth of Baekhyun's lips on his.

Not fair, a voice at the back of his mind says. He's tired, drained, vulnerable. Radioactive. He's a ticking time bomb and Baekhyun's just seconds away from either getting himself blown up or detonating Myungsoo. Baekhyun's just a breath away.

"Don't you ever frown again," Baekhyun whispers. He chuckles and tilts his head to the side. Too close, Myungsoo wants to say. Too comfortable. It almost feels like home. But he doesn't push Baekhyun away. "Never ever frown again–"

"I can't," Myungsoo blurts out. Baekhyun jerks back a little, but he can still feel Baekhyun's breath hot on his skin, the sensitive flesh of his lips. He grabs a fistful of Baekhyun's shirt and tugs him closer, then, just enough to put them back where they once were – just a touch, a hitch of the breath away. He counts to three, as if counting down to pressing the shutter release. All he needs it to get the right angle and– "I can't do this. Not right now. I mean–" I just saw Woohyun earlier and he broke me down to pieces and I can't give you that. It's not fair. I can't give you pieces of me in a trash bag. You deserve more than that. "I'm... trash right now. You wouldn't want that, right? Someone who's so broken it's almost hard to put the pieces back together?"

Baekhyun hums a little. "I'm good at solving puzzles. I like challenges." A deep breath, then, "I... like you."

"It's not fair to you," Myungsoo reasons out. Baekhyun hasn't stopped humming, though, like he's saying, I'm not giving up just yet. Remember when I told you that I've made it my mission to make you smile for good? Yeah, I've got my sights set on that. I'm not giving up on you. "You have enough shit to deal with as it is, Baekhyun. You're an SM idol. You're a star. You're debuting in a few months and soon you won't have time to... I don't know, enjoy life and just be free and–"

Baekhyun shakes his head and places a finger on Myungsoo's lips. It's hard to look into his eyes, what with the very short distance between them, but he can make out the small smile on Baekhyun's lips. His lips aren't trembling. And his pulse is steady, rhythmic. His finger is warm on Myungsoo's skin. "You have no right," he begins, pausing to clear his throat before continuing, "To tell me what I want and what I don't. Or what I should and shouldn't be doing. I'm... a big boy now. I can make my own decisions. And right now, I want to stay here. Make you smile. Or maybe kiss you, if you'd let me. But if you want to get rid of me then it's going to take more than that."

Don't make promises you can't keep, Byun Baekhyun, Myungsoo wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he laughs a little and says, "A big boy, huh?"

Baekhyun winks. Or at least that's what it feels like, the tiny twitch that pricks Myungsoo's skin when Baekhyun leans even closer. There's still enough distance between them, though, that if Myungsoo wanted to push Baekhyun away moments ago then he already would have. And it would have been so easy to just pull away, put some distance between them if it was someone else but this is Baekhyun. Baekhyun whose smile tickles his insides and sets his heart at ease and makes his chest bloom with warmth. Baekhyun whose greetings are loaded with a thousand other words that may not make sense but make Myungsoo smiles. Baekhyun who only threads their fingers together and hovers but never leans in for a kiss, who jerks back at the slightest tremble of Myungsoo's fingers in the link of their hands.

Baekhyun who's asking him, right now, "Will you let me distract you? I... want you to think of this carefully because once you say yes, I'm telling you, I will do everything to keep your mind off of... things."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. He goes back to that argument a few minutes ago – it's not fair. He's broken. He's got to patch himself up first. Put himself back together and maybe fill the missing pieces with new experiences or just good ol' glue. But then here Baekhyun is, offering him all sorts of adhesives and sticky tape and his heart, to boot. Here Baekhyun is, giving him a choice, asking if it's okay to lean closer, to let their lips brush. Asking if Myungsoo could make space in the heart he's reconstructing so Baekhyun can build himself a home there.

And if he wanted Baekhyun out of his life sooner then he would've pushed him away the second Baekhyun snuck a kiss to the tip of his nose and the corner of his mouth months ago. He would've pushed Baekhyun away even before Baekhyun could reach out to slip his fingers between Myungsoo's own, would have pulled away even before he could feel the warm and comfortable slide of their palms. And he would've said 'no' so easily the moment the question slipped Baekhyun's lips, would've turned Baekhyun down in a voice so bright and clear that he won't even be able to recognize himself.

"I'm not promising anything–"

"It's a yes or no question, Soo," Baekhyun whispers. He laughs a little. "I can take it. Hit me."

Myungsoo closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. "Yes," he says, so soft it almost feels like a sliver of air just passing between his lips. "Yes, you may."

Baekhyun snakes a hand up his nape. He shivers but leans into the touch, head falling back into the warm cushion of Baekhyun's palm. From this distance, he can see Baekhyun's smiling a little, can see Baekhyun's gaze fixed on the giving bow of his mouth. Then Baekhyun leans in, pressing his lips on Myungsoo's own. It feels nothing like Baekhyun's heated touches, the brush of their knuckles against each other when they walk side-by-side, the slide of Baekhyun's arm around his waist when Baekhyun pulled him away from Woohyun and closer to his chest. It feels soft, tentative, uncertain. His lips are trembling but his hands are steady. And his lips are chapped again, just tiny bumps of rough skin. And they're warm. They're wet and warm and Baekhyun's coaxing his mouth open, licking at the seam of his lips, the corners of his mouth, giving his bottom gentle lips. And he can feel the upward tug on the corners of Baekhyun's lips dipping, dropping to a frown.

Let go, he tells himself. Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance.

He parts his lips a little and takes a deep breath. It startles a small gasp out of Baekhyun and Myungsoo capitalizes on that, pulling Baekhyun closer and opening up all the way.

Baekhyun... kisses like a kid, messy and juvenile and without any semblance of a system. He sucks on Myungsoo's top lip, bottom lip, the corners of his mouth, licks the back of Myungsoo's teeth and bites a bit too hard on Myungsoo's lips when Myungsoo lets out a soft moan. And he uses his hands, fingers balling into a fist in Myungsoo's hair as he sinks to suck marks on the underside of Myungsoo's jaw, as he licks and blows hot air on Myungsoo's sensitive skin. Myungsoo shivers at the contact, shakes when Baekhyun sucks a bit too hard and leaves too little time for him to recalibrate. He can feel his pulse beat strongly at the back of his knees, his ears, can feel Baekhyun's pulse leave marks on his nape. He can't breathe, can't think, can't feel anything beyond the loud and heavy thumping in his chest, the fit of their bodies, the inelegant slide of their mouths. He can tell Baekhyun to stop now, he can push Baekhyun away, but too late – his body is speaking for him, making him whisper, "Focus," making him reach over to tilt Baekhyun's chin up.

He pulls Baekhyun onto his lap and kisses him harder. And Baekhyun moans into the open press of his mouth, sending a sizzle of heat to his abdomen and making his insides turn.

"You're an animal," Baekhyun tells him later, when he rests his head on Baekhyun's shoulder and buries his face in Baekhyun's warmth. His jaw still aches with Baekhyun's touch and his lips still miss Baekhyun's, so instead he laughs in response and wraps his arms around Baekhyun's waist, hoping that this is enough to let Baekhyun know how he feels.

ミ☆

He wakes up with a sore back and the feeling in his right arm all gone, crushed under Baekhyun's weight. More specifically, he wakes up to Baekhyun's loud snoring and his hot breath prickling his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his skin. Then he feels the weight on his arm and his legs. He drops his gaze south, to the tangle of their limbs, and laughs a little. They'd managed to throw out the trash and tidy up the living room, but somehow they managed to fall asleep while talking on the carpet.

He checks the wall clock and lets out a soft exhale. It's seven in the morning. There's enough time to freshen up and cook breakfast. There's enough time to just live the morning and breathe.

He doesn't get up until ten minutes after, though, after successfully prying himself from Baekhyun's grasp. Baekhyun had tried keeping him there, in the warm cocoon of his embrace, too many times, employing different techniques. He'd tightened his hold on Myungsoo and pulled him close until they were chest to back, until their bodies were trapped in a warm and sticky fit. He'd tucked his chin on Myungsoo's shoulder when it didn't work, shook his head and grumbled and whined when Myungsoo tried even harder to wriggle free from Baekhyun's grasp. After a while, Baekhyun just said, flat out without any cheap tricks and frills, "Just stay. Let's sleep forever. Don't wanna get up," hot breath fanning across the slope of Myungsoo's neck. And it would have been easy to say no if he hadn't promised Sunggyu to get Baekhyun to SM before 11, if he hadn't promised to be a 'good boy' and a good friend.

He looks at Baekhyun on the floor now, curled up and bottom lip jutted out in a frown. "Traitor," Baekhyun mumbles, kicking Myungsoo's foot a little. Myungsoo pretends to wail in pain. He only succeeds in getting another kick from Baekhyun. Giving in, he leans in to place a soft kiss on Baekhyun's hair. Baekhyun looks up at him through sleepy eyes, a small smile curling up at the corners of his mouth.

Half past seven in the morning and he finally gets his thermo pot running. He'd boiled enough water for two cups of coffee and two more of hot chocolate, almost added another cup of water just in case Baekhyun didn't like his hot chocolate too thick and creamy. He sets a pot filled with water halfway through on the stove, as well, and sets the flame on high. There shouldn't be any hangovers from both of them but they're twenty-eight, and people their age shouldn't be drinking five cans of beer topped off with two bottles of soju. The last time he did it was... well, just a few weeks ago, and even then he should've known better than to power through another bottle of soju. The cure that day: sleeping all the way until lunch time and sipping as much odeng broth as he could from the food cart two blocks away. Then diving back into bed after that and not getting up for the next few hours until he had to go to SM to watch Baekhyun's practice.

He laughs to himself. All his recent drinking exploits had something to do with Baekhyun. He'd never gotten too drunk to the point of throwing up, though. Baekhyun had a strange way of keeping him sober, keeping him hyperaware of everything that was happening around him. He was an antidote to alcohol, the cure to the nastiest hangover. Baekhyun was alcohol, in himself; Myungsoo would rather get drunk with Baekhyun than any liquor he's every had.

There are small bubbles surfacing on the water now. He keeps the flame high, burning at a steady intensity. Soup shouldn't take too much time to make. All it takes is some sea weed, seasoning, and some fish cake. He still has some from the grocery shopping he's done a few days ago. He's armed for situations like this. It's almost as if he's seen it coming: running into Woohyun and having Baekhyun close by. Dropping by a convenience store and contemplating buying all the alcohol they had to offer but ending up with just ten cans of beer and some soju. Matching Baekhyun shot for shot, sip for sip, a smile for a smile. Then falling asleep with Baekhyun in his arms and waking up to the same addictive sight, the feeling of their shared warmth blooming in his chest and greeting him–

"Good morning," comes a voice from behind him. Then he feels a familiar pair of arms circle his waist, pull him closer and away from the stove. "Why are we up early?"

"Because your favorite hyung asked me to get you to SM by 11," Myungsoo replies. The red light of the thermo pot turns off. The boiling inside comes to a low simmer. "And because there was someone calling you earlier. A... Kyungsoo, if I remember correctly? Is he a friend of yours?"

"Ah shit," Baekhyun groans, then buries his face in Myungsoo's hair. Don't do that, he wants to tell Baekhyun. They both haven't freshened up yet and they're sweaty and sticky and gross, after all, but Baekhyun doesn't seem to mind, just keeps taking deep breaths and makes his descent to nibble on Myungsoo's ear. "And yeah, a good friend. Same guy who drives me around. He'd be my mom if he was a few years older."

"And if he was a woman."

"Hey. Male pregnancy's totally a thing now," Baekhyun says, lips pressed to the back of Myungsoo's ear. Myungsoo chuckles, tilts his head back. Wrong move again, Kim, he tells himself as he feels Baekhyun lick the shell of his ear. Too many mistakes made at seven in the morning, only one man to make everything feel right. "Sunggyu-hyung would be an awful pregnant daddy, though. He'd get so emotional over the smallest things and he'd always be agitated and–"

And you should stop this, Myungsoo wants to say, but hadn't he given Baekhyun the go signal last night? Hadn't he said 'yes' to Baekhyun when he asked, voice just barely above a whisper, 'will you let me distract you'? Hadn't he let Baekhyun kiss every inch of his mouth? Hadn't he kissed Baekhyun back? There's no sense in doing things half-heartedly. He reaches behind him, then, snaking his hand to Baekhyun's nape.

"And he'd tell you to report at 11, still," Myungsoo finishes, pulling away only to lean back against the counter and get a better look at Baekhyun. Baekhyun's cheeks are flushed a light shade of pink. His eyes are still laden with fatigue, but they crinkle a little at the corners. Myungsoo can't tell if it's the work of the slow-forming smile on his lips or Baekhyun just squinting at everything because it's ass-o-clock in the morning and too early to be making sense of things. "Because you promised to come in at that time and he's unforgiving of those who come in late."

Baekhyun pouts. Sticks out his tongue, too, and Myungsoo responds in kind with a soft kiss to the tip of Myungsoo's nose. The sly, upward tug on the corners of his lips softens into a tiny 'o' of his lips, blows his eyes wide and colors his cheeks a brighter color, an angry shade of red. There's no anger in Baekhyun's eyes, though, just Myungsoo's reflection and the sight of the stove beyond Myungsoo's shoulder. And the smile Myungsoo has been trying to choke back the moment surprise began to conquer Baekhyun's features, spilling for the corners of his mouth and pulling them up to a grin.

Fifteen to eight, though, Myungsoo reminds himself. They still have to freshen up. He has a promise to keep. So he tells Baekhyun, "Let me cook," and sinks even more to press a soft kiss to a corner of Baekhyun's lips. One last moment of surrender before he returns to his cooking duties. The last few seconds of respite before he turns around and the spell ends, blooming into a single reality: Baekhyun is an idol. There will be people watching him. When they step outside this building, into the streets and without the thin veil of privacy shielding them from everyone's view, they'll have to maintain a good six inches from each other. It's standard SM practice. And it's standard idol behavior to not hold another man's hand, to not smile at him too fondly that might be taken the wrong way.

"I wanted to–" Baekhyun chases after Myungsoo and catches his bottom lip between his own. "–cook for you."

"It's alright. This is the least I could do for–" Myungsoo takes a deep breath. "For everything–" The water's boiling now and he should probably add in the seaweed he'd soaked in water earlier but Baekhyun kisses like he means to steal all the feeling from Myungsoo's lips, means to leave traces of himself on the corners of Myungsoo's mouth until Myungsoo's jaw aches with want. And Baekhyun is warm and sweet. And maybe Myungsoo likes sweet things that come in the form of Byun Baekhyun. Later, he'll taste Baekhyun at the back of his teeth while drinking coffee and he'll regret it. Later, when he drinks coffee again in the afternoon, he won't be able to separate the sugar from coffee and Baekhyun from the warmth that the drink gives him. Soon, he'll look at a cup of black coffee and see Baekhyun's name on the surface in squiggly characters, floating and jumping out at him, telling him to lean closer, come on, drink up the happiness, come closer–

"I'm not asking for anything in return," Baekhyun whispers when he breaks away. This time, it's Myungsoo who chases after him, their lips in a messy lock and saliva at the corners of their mouth. "I just want you to never feel sad again."

Lies, Myungsoo wants to say. If Baekhyun didn't want anything in return then he wouldn't have kissed Myungsoo. If he didn't want anything to change save for the frown on Myungsoo's lips waning then he wouldn't have stepped inside Myungsoo's perimeter so he could hold Myungsoo close. And if Myungsoo didn't want the same thing the slightest bit, even with the dull ache of Woohyun's memory in his chest, he wouldn't have kissed back.

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. They pull away with a dull 'pop'. "Feeling sad means never feeling hungry," he says this time, laughing just a little when he feels Baekhyun frown against his lips. "Let me cook."

"I will ruin your coffee," Baekhyun grumbles. It doesn't sound like a threat at all.

No need for that, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. Baekhyun has already messed up his life in the strangest, best way possible. Fucking up his coffee shouldn't be worse.

Baekhyun doesn't touch his coffee, though, just rummages through the utensils for a teaspoon and diligently makes his own hot chocolate on the kitchen table. When Myungsoo turns off the stove, announcing that breakfast is ready, Baekhyun gets to setting the table. He lays down the placemats on the table and moves around Myungsoo kitchen with relative ease, like he's been here a thousand times before. He sets the utensils down on folded table napkins like an art, like he's dancing. Then he looks up at Myungsoo once he's done, peeking from his bangs. There's a shy smile on his lips, a subtle upward curl of the lip that's so easy to miss to anyone who's seeing Baekhyun for the first time.

But Myungsoo has spent months memorizing Baekhyun's features. He's spent months studying the shift of Baekhyun's muscles that he knows, just by the slightest quirk of Baekhyun's lips, what Baekhyun wants to say. A quick upward tug at the left corner of his lips means he doesn't believe a shit that the person who's talking to him is saying. One at the right means he's genuinely interested in whatever the person has to say. And his lips falling open into a small 'o', Baekhyun blowing a thin sheet of air between his slightly parted lips and then pressing them together again in a light pout means why can't I have you? Why can't I call you mine right here, right now?

'It's complicated' is Myungsoo's standard answer. The alternative one: I'm afraid. So not yet. Not now. But someday, someday soon, I will give you an answer.

"That smells good," Baekhyun says. He lets out a long exhale.

"Thanks," Myungsoo replies. He looks down at the clear soup, at the chunks of fish cakes floating on the surface. "I hope you like it."

Baekhyun stays quiet for the rest of the meal, looking up from what he's eating only to give Myungsoo a thumbs-up and a smile. Under the table, he links their ankles together, keeps Myungsoo in place and keeps him from standing even if they've already run out of water. They only have a few minutes left, after all – to pretend, to play in their tiny sandpit, a few minutes of respite before the shoot starts again. The director's calling Baekhyun's name and telling him to get into character, but Baekhyun's a pain in the ass. He's defiant. He's different. He's asking the director for more time, 'I need to practice more. I need time.' So Myungsoo stays in his place, swings the tangle of their ankles from side to side in a rhythm easy enough to coax the rest of his body to move to.

"I could eat this everyday," Baekhyun mumbles after a while, sipping the soup from his spoon in a loud slurp. Myungsoo laughs a little and takes a sip, closing his eyes as the warm liquid eases the tension in his throat.

It tastes like home.

ミ☆

"I saw Woohyun a few days ago, in the SM building," Myungsoo tells Howon one time. He lifts his cup of coffee close to his lips and takes a long, torturous sip. "We... talked. A bit."

Howon cocks an eyebrow at him and leans back. They're in one of the lesser known coffee shops in the Buam-dong area today, Club Espresso, and there aren't too many people around. It's ten in the morning, after all, smack in between morning and just a little before afternoon. They ran into a couple of students on their walk to the shop from the station. The office workers kept ordering take out and wouldn't stay for longer than five minutes. There are only five other people in the coffee shop. It's quiet. Quiet enough that when Howon snorts and frowns at him, he hears the tiny sound at the back of Howon's throat. Quiet enough that when his phone gives off a shrill chirping sound, Howon cocks an eyebrow at him even more.

"You changed it?" Howon asks.

He didn't. Baekhyun did, assigned himself a special tone so Myungsoo wouldn't miss messages and reply five hours after the topic has ceased to be relevant. "Yeah. Was beginning to get tired of the old tone. I kept missing important messages."

Howon laughs a little. "Important messages, huh?" he mumbles, scratching the surface of the wooden table. He taps a rhythm on it after a while, something familiar enough that Myungsoo finds himself bobbing his head lightly to the beat. "They're not from Woohyun, right?"

"Nah, definitely not." Myungsoo shakes his head. He wouldn't even talk to Woohyun if he didn't have to, if they weren't already in front of each other and really had no choice but to interact. He was doing Woohyun a favor – Woohyun's fans were just a few feet away from them then. If they saw their idol just staring at someone blankly or whatever expression in his face that Myungsoo didn't want to see, they'd start wondering what was up. They'd snap photos of the same expression. Then they'd build an issue around it. It's promotion done in bad taste but promotion, nonetheless. And SM would throw a fit if that happened, watch Woohyun like a hawk, not letting him off the hook until they felt assured that Woohyun wouldn't get into any hanky panky with anyone. "And when I saw Woohyun, we just greeted each other. Nothing big. Just your usual hi and hello."

"Because you were expecting more," Howon says, groaning. He rolls his eyes. "Seriously? After all these years?"

Myungsoo parts his lips, meaning to speak, but instead he just breathes in and lets out a long exhale. He wasn't expecting anything... or maybe that was exactly what he was hoping for. For him to not look forward to what Woohyun had to say. For him to not wonder, what would've Woohyun said if there was no one else around? What would he have done if Baekhyun wasn't there, if his fans weren't just beyond the glass doors, if his manager hadn't called him? What would he have done if Sunggyu hadn't told Myungsoo and Baekhyun to hurry up, there's no time, they had to go home? The possibilities were endless. And if Woohyun's still the same old Woohyun that Myungsoo knows then Woohyun probably would have used his hands to speak, used his mouth, his lips, his tongue but never utter a single word.

Woohyun knows how to sing other people's songs but not his own. He's good at that, relaying other people's messages to everyone. But once he drops the mic, he loses sense of his own words and resorts to speaking with his body, instead.

Myungsoo shakes his head. Takes another sip of his coffee and looks at the mostly empty cup. He should ask for a refill. Or maybe he can stop now; too much of anything is bad for anyone's health, even caffeine. "Nah, I don't–" He scratches the slope of his neck. Baekhyun does that, too, when he can't find the right words to say, like scouring the surface will help him decipher the characters scrawled on his skin. "I don't want a repeat of the past. It's not good. Torturous. It was hell."

Howon snorts. "You're a masochist."

Myungsoo laughs a little. "Not anymore."

"Oh?" Howon whispers, lips falling open until they're tugging up at the corners into an amused grin. To anyone, it would probably seem like an insult, but he knows Howon means well. Howon has seen him grow out of his awkward, post-college phase and into something a bit more comfortable, as if he was finally getting used to wearing his own skin. Howon was there when he first told a client to shut up because he didn't know what he was saying, was there to back him up when the same client caused a ruckus in the office. 'You know, sir, what you're requesting for doesn't make sense,' Myungsoo remembers Howon saying then. 'We followed the brief you gave us. You shut it down and made us do something off-target. And now you're saying that we should just bring back the old designs and improve on them but make them better? Are you out of your mind?' The last sentence was the catch phrase of the season. Howon was then called Lee 'Crazy Ass Artist' Howon after that, after the client called him the same and growled at him in frustration. And Myungsoo was there, too, to give the client a soft smile and say, 'It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Kim.'

"Not anymore, really?" Howon repeats now, leaning closer. His eyes are squinted but his eyebrows are not in a tight knot. "Well, well, well... I've got to say, that Baekhyun kid really did do you well."

"He's not a kid," Myungsoo says in defense all at once. Howon's response is light laughter; Myungsoo counters with a kick to his leg under the table. "He's the same age as I am. He just looks young. Has the face of a baby." An idol, a star. Eyes always glimmering with mischief and a thirst for singing, performing in front of a crowd. A shy smile that blooms into something big only when he's caught off-guard and when his feelings overwhelm him.

He feels for his phone in his pocket and fishes it out. Baekhyun's message bubble in Line jumps out at him as soon as he unlocks the screen. There's a 'good morning' message up top, then a series of stickers – a bunny waving her arms in the air, then a white blob who's pumping his fist in the air. The last is the same white blob doing a heart sign with his hands, winking. And then another message comes in, something that says, aww fuck used d wrong sticker for the last 1 bah.

u should smile like d white blob, Myungsoo types in haste. He looks up at Howon and narrows his eyes at Howon when the latter makes weird, kissy faces at him. seriously it suits you, bright smile and all.

i told u i took weird smiling like that remember?

Myungsoo blinks a few times. "Go, you've been ignoring your phone for far too long already. Your boyfriend might be worried about you," Howon singsongs. He hasn't stopped smiling just yet, hasn't stopped making gurgling noises at Myungsoo. Myungsoo's never been more thankful that text messages are just visuals and nothing else, no ugly cooing and gushing from Howon. i don't care. it looks good on u, he types after a while, once he's sure he's kicked Howon in the leg hard enough to make him shut up for the next few minutes.

awww ur sweet :* well if u put it that way then i myt b convinced 2 do that ;)

Myungsoo laughs a little. He can hear the lilt in Baekhyun's voice now, can imagine the violent upward tug on the corners of Baekhyun's mouth that Baekhyun tries so hard to wipe off his face. He can imagine the way Baekhyun's eyes always soften just before he erupts into a peal of laughter and they way his eyes turn into slits once he's completely relinquished control over his giggles. And he can imagine the way Baekhyun would rest his forehead on Myungsoo's own, his breath, hot and wet, tickling Myungsoo's skin. If there aren't people around them then maybe they'd give in to the urge to move even closer until their lips find a perfect fit. But if there are then they'd just be contented with this for now, seeing each other laugh their heart out in broad daylight.

They'll always have the night. They are creatures of darkness, each other's phantom limb. They tiptoe on each other's shadows and play until the light comes looking for them. And when it does, the shadows slither back up to the tips of their fingers where their bodies meet in the light brush of their hands.

"You're grinning," Howon points out. He nods and gestures at Myungsoo with his pursed lips. "Just a few minutes ago, you were Sir Serious and now you're this giggly guy who can't stop laughing everytime he looks at his phone. You've changed, man. You've changed."

His thumbs hover the screen. He looks up at Howon, head tilted to the side. A change in perspective always helps – he can see Howon's smile better from this angle, can see the hint of amusement and curiosity in the way Howon leans in, bit by bit, like he's counting the spaces between them with each forward motion. It would've been easy to just tell Howon that he's wrong, nothing has changed, nothing is supposed to change, but there's no point in denying anything. And he doesn't want to just forget all the hard work he's poured into getting back on track, leaving the ruins of his past behind. He left his 8-to-whenever job months ago, hoping to live a better life, and he bumped right into Baekhyun. Baekhyun helped him get up, taught him how to fly. Everything went downhill from there, but it helps to know that there's someone going down the same rocky path with him, holding his hand and promising never to let him go, you'll have to do more than that to get rid of me, Soo. I'm staying. But if you want me to leave then just let me know–

"No, I haven't," Myungsoo says, shaking his head. On his phone, he types quickly, looking 4ward to it :) Baekhyun replies with a blushing sticker. It tickles his insides, makes him smile. "He just brought out the best in me."

ミ☆

Four months, Myungsoo muses as he writes the characters for 'spring shoot' and 'summer shoot' on their respective dates. They're doing the spring shoot next week and blocking off the entire week after that for post-production. The week after, they'll be doing summer shots with the sun up high but the heat not punishing them just yet. Summer isn't until a few more months, after all. They'll have to make do with the light and warmth that spring brings. And with that, the seasons concept finally comes to a close, all nine months of preparation and production coming down to Baekhyun's debut stage. They could've shot the last two 'seasons' earlier, but winter hadn't eased completely until just two days ago. The streets have finally been wiped clean of snow and the winds are kinder. The leaves are slowly gaining color again. Everything is being reborn. It's almost therapeutic, watching spring unfold in front of him and melt away winter. In some ways, it reminds him of Baekhyun – how Baekhyun coaxed him out of the bad place he was in, how Baekhyun, with his bright eyes and even brighter smile, lured him out of the darkness and into the light.

The wind blows. He shivers a bit and rummages through his bag, retrieving a scarf. There are a lot of ways to combat cold – to move on from the past, to forget. Actively trying to keep yourself warm is one of them.

"Oh man, I'm stuffed," Baekhyun groans. He punches Myungsoo in his side. "Gyu-hyung's gonna drag my sorry ass all over the practice room and make me do more routines and you are to blame for this– For me being this full–"

Myungsoo rolls his eyes. He'd come from a breakfast meeting with Sungjong this morning to hand over some designs. If things go as planned then there won't be any revisions. He'll walk away with a check three days from now. "Could've been earlier but man, your fee's really steep. Had to convince the bosses to approve them. Told them they were getting their money's worth, anyway. Honestly, from one designer to another, the previous agency handling our brand? Everything they did was crap," Sungjong had explained, frowning before taking a sip of his hot chocolate. It didn't have a shot of espresso, so there was nothing but the scent of sweet chocolate dancing on its surface. None of the mix of bitter and sweet and the warmth that the drink brought with it.

"Your designs look... different," Sungjong mentioned before turning on his heel to leave.

Myungsoo furrowed his eyebrows. "A good kind of different or a bad kind?"

Sungjong pursed his lips, twisted his mouth. His eyes were narrowed and there was a peculiar upward tug on his cheeks. Myungsoo had seen that look before, when they were still working with each other. Sungjong would wear it whenever he was conflicted, didn't know how to feel about things. Or maybe he did know exactly how he was feeling, only that he didn't want to admit it yet. Myungsoo gets that, the whole denial thing, saying one thing but meaning the complete opposite because of the storm inside you. It's normal to feel torn; it means you're considering everything that should be considered, not just shunning it away. Should he sock Woohyun in the gut for being an asshole or should he kick him in the balls? Or was it too much effort to hit Woohyun at all? Should he bump his elbow into Baekhyun's and startle crazy laughter out of him or should he move a little to the side so they can thread their fingers together under the guise of keeping their hands warm in their pockets? Something of that sort.

"A good kind," Sungjong answered after a while. He straightened up and smiled. His face was no longer contorted. He was grinning. "They... look as if they've been made with love."

Love doesn't create designs, Myungsoo wanted to say then as a joke. It's the designer who crafts these pieces of art with a purpose. But he also knows that when a designer is at peace with himself and with his work, great art is born. You fall in love with the brand, the product. You develop a better understanding of your client. Then you communicate that through the design you're creating. And then other people get it. That's design coming full circle. That's the ultimate goal of everyone who gets into design.

And then you capture that single moment of happiness in a photograph and frame it, hang it on your wall so you can be reminded of the magic behind your work. So that you can remind yourself that hey, I can do something great and magical. I created that, and I can do it again.

"You're doing the spacing thing out again," Baekhyun says now, tugging at his shirtsleeve. Myungsoo looks to his side and widens his eyes a little when he feels Baekhyun's cool fingers tightening around his wrist in a loose fist. "Hey, stay with me."

They're walking along the streets of Gangnam. There are at least fifty – no, a hundred – other people around them, passing them by and maybe throwing them weird glances from time to time. And it's bright out here. The sun is up and there isn't anywhere to hide, no dark alley or space where they can step into the shadows and just look at each other in the eye, watching the slow-forming smile on each other's lips.

"Well keep up," Myungsoo replies, teasing. He pokes out his tongue, just a peek, then leans back just before Baekhyun can jab him again. Baekhyun doesn't quite hold back, though, following through until his knuckles are grazing Myungsoo's stomach. And then Baekhyun's curling his fingers into a loose fist in Myungsoo's shirt, pulling him close, close, closer, the air between them thinning into short and quick breaths.

Myungsoo sucks in his bottom lip. "We're outside," he whispers.

Baekhyun gives him a tiny nod, just enough to make the tuft of his hair bounce. It's cute. It would've been better if Myungsoo could reach out ruffle it even more, if he could just lean in without having to look at either side of him before even attempting to look at Baekhyun in the eye. But that isn't the case. Baekhyun's an idol-to-be. He's Baekhyun's photographer. He signed a contract with SM to make Baekhyun look good on camera. And part of the contract, written in tiny, tiny text, so little that it's almost hard to miss – to never get the idol he's photographing into trouble. And to never get himself into trouble with the idol in question.

Baekhyun hasn't pulled away yet. The people passing them by haven't stopped and looked long enough to see the finer details, but there's no telling if there's someone a few feet away photographing them or looking at them silly. Or figuring this thing of theirs out, whatever the 'thing' should be called. Baekhyun calls it distracting Myungsoo; Myungsoo calls it an exercise in control and restraint. A test to see just how durable his heart can be.

He's always been good with tests, always emerged with great scores and passed them with flying colors. So he says again, "Baekhyun, we're outside," drawling his syllables his time. Baekhyun's eyebrows twitch a little. "I don't want you to get into trouble."

Then Baekhyun jerks back, just a tiny jolt of the body enough to reach Myungsoo and make him shiver. "Right. I'm sorry," Baekhyun then says, dropping his gaze to his feet, then unfurls his fingers from where he'd fisted them in Myungsoo's shirt. There's a nasty crease on Myungsoo's polo right now and Sunggyu will scribble stories all over this, all sorts of reminders, but that doesn't matter right now. The once bright smile on Baekhyun's lips has tugged down into a tight press of the lips, a vacant expression. There are other pressing matters to attend to.

Myungsoo casts him one last glance and pulls down his sleeves. Taking a deep breath and a leap of faith, he reaches for the tips of Baekhyun's fingers and holds onto them as they walk the few remaining blocks back to the SM building. The streets aren't as crowded as they should be. Their coats are blocking their intertwined hands from everyone's view. They're safe, sort of. Still, Baekhyun tries to pull away from time to time. Maybe it's just logic kicking his body into a state of hyperawareness, with him constantly looking around them and withdrawing his hand but latching onto the pads of Myungsoo's fingers at the very last minute, but he's the first to clutch it tight when a car speeds past them, when two businessmen in a rush almost bump into them and Baekhyun pulls Myungsoo to his side.

"Fu–ntastic," Baekhyun grumbles, switching midway through when Myungsoo pinches him in his stomach to remind him that they're outside, there are other people around them. 'You're an idol, Baekhyun. An SM idol. You're carrying the company's name.' Myungsoo doesn't even have to say it anymore. He's sure that Baekhyun knows the spiel like the back of his hand if the number of times he recites the same lines, the same set of words, everyday as Sunggyu does the exact same thing are anything to go by.

"Idol. Idol," Myungsoo hears Baekhyun whispering to himself like a mantra, or maybe even a prayer. A few more steps and they'll finally arrive at the SM building. A few more feet and Baekhyun can finally breathe.

It isn't until they take the lift that Baekhyun lets out a loud exhale. He throws his head back, leaning against the wall, then leans his head on Myungsoo's shoulder. His chest is heaving. They hadn't even been running. Myungsoo looks to his side, then, and waits – for Baekhyun to speak, for Baekhyun to admit whatever he's feeling at the moment. For Baekhyun to ask for what he needs so Myungsoo can give it to him – a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen. A warm touch or maybe a kiss on the forehead if Myungsoo's feeling brave enough despite the cameras watching them like a hawk.

"This is hard," Baekhyun whispers after a while. He looks up, inching closer, until his forehead touches Myungsoo's. "What did I get myself into?"

Hell, Myungsoo wants to say, or maybe worse. Baekhyun is slaving his ass off at a ripe age, knowing that, in some ways, he's set himself up for disappointment. You can only do so much in the industry at the age of twenty-eight. Or twenty-nine, given the turn of the year. Maybe Baekhyun can go into doing movies, taking on mature roles, but he has to build a name for himself as an actor first. He has to secure his spot in the industry before taking off to pursue better things in life. He needs to go through all these hardships so he can win a mutizen, then a bonsang, then a daesang. Then he'll have successfully won over the hearts of people and SM's trust. Then he'll be happy, truly fulfilled.

That's the ideal scenario.

But the reality is this: Woohyun has just returned from wherever and is working on his next studio album. He's making a comeback in two, three months. SM has other artists in their roster, just waiting for the right time to enter the music scene again. There are too many people to compete with. So maybe Baekhyun will see a bit of success in his pursuit of a good music career, but there's no telling when he'll snag an award or leave an impression so great that people won't forget him when he goes into a hiatus to prepare for the next set of songs he'll be promoting. He's also competing with other things – his body, his will, his own self. And when he asked Myungsoo to grant him permission to distract him, he competed with Myungsoo's past, as well.

Myungsoo laughs to himself. There shouldn't even be competition anymore. There isn't, he tells himself again and again. So he gives Baekhyun's head a light nudge, buries his nose in Baekhyuns' hair. "Deep shit?"

"Ha ha. Thanks," Baekhyun grumbles. There's no bitterness in his words, though, just fatigue and exasperation and a long, loud sigh. He reaches over, right hand crossing over to the left side of Myungsoo's body, but he stops midway and drops his hand. Myungsoo gulps hard, shivering a little. He contemplates asking why, hugging is normal, hugging a friend is safe and they're not violating any rules by wrapping their arms around each other, right? But then Baekhyun snakes his other arm around Myungsoo's waist to pull him close, their bodies aligning.

Myungsoo clenches his fists. This whole craving for warmth thing is alarming, daunting. It makes his insides turn and makes him sick. But it also feels like kicking off the ground, feeling so light and unburdened for the first time in a long, long time. For the first time in half a decade.

Baekhyun shifts a little, moving even closer. He buries his face in the slope of Myungsoo's neck and whispers, "No, really, thank you."

"Thank you," Myungsoo whispers. He can feel the slow-forming smile on Baekhyun's lips, the grin stretching across his mouth and pulling up at the corners. And then Baekhyun's lips are on his skin, his tongue hot and wet and tracing dizzying circles. Idol, the word rings in Myungsoo's ears, but it's becoming difficult to think with Baekhyun's cold fingers splayed on his stomach, keeping him in place. It's becoming hard to do anything but take quick breaths and bite back the throaty moan threatening to spill from his lips when Baekhyun sucks marks on his skin, leaving tiny packets of red on the slope of his neck and just above his collarbones. He will regret this later, when they get to the practice room and he has to wear a scarf around his neck despite the sweltering heart, when Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him and mumbles, "Scarf, huh?" He'll regret not pushing Baekhyun away because now his insides are turning all the more from the heat of Baekhyun's palm pressed on his abdomen.

But he'll regret it even more if he doesn't taste himself on Baekhyun's lips before the doors of the lift open, before they hop right back into reality and out of their tiny, little world.

The elevator gives off a soft 'ding' and Baekhyun pulls away with an easy smile, calm and calculated. He runs his fingers through his hair and wipes the corners of his mouth. His lips are swollen, too red, too inviting. I did that, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. I did that to him. Then he sees his reflection on the walls of the elevator, the disheveled look in his features, the bright red marks on his skin.

He takes a deep breath and muses, he did this to me.

And then everything comes back to him – Baekhyun's request, Baekhyun assuring him that he isn't asking for anything but a smile in return, Baekhyun telling him, making it clear that I like you. I like solving puzzles. I like challenges. I like you. Words, tangible words that Myungsoo can record on a casette tape and play again and again until the tape loosens and gives out. Words that he can have tattooed on his skin so he won't ever forget that there's this man who sings his heart out without fear of getting judged telling him, in the face, that he wants him. Baekhyun is giving him the whole package – a comforting touch, a shoulder to learn on, his words and his song, his heart. All Myungsoo has to do is to tug at the edge of the ribbon and open the gift, unravel it, see where it takes him. Them.

He drops the chains to the ground and picks up the red ribbon. He balls his hands into fists in his own shirt and thinks, why the hell not?

Slowly, the doors slide to the corners, revealing an expanse of space in front of them. There's an entire hall ahead leading to too many places. The practice room Baekhyun frequents is at the far end, the one off-white door versus the pristine white of the others. Reality's just one step away. So Myungsoo wraps his fingers around Baekhyun's wrist and pulls him forward until they're toeing the line in between, until he can back Baekhyun against the frame and lean in close enough to smell the sweat in his hair. The camera can't catch them here. The entire floor is silent. They have twenty seconds until the elevator timer runs out and until the alarm rings. He has twenty seconds to do the jump, take a leap of faith, knowing that there's someone fifty feet below to catch him.

Baekhyun looks around them, then looks up at Myungsoo. He sucks in his bottom lip. "What are you doing?"

Myungsoo licks his lips. Baekhyun's eyes are drawn to them without meaning to. "What I should've done weeks ago."

Myungsoo looks around for an audience. Nothing but a blank white on his left, the reflection of their pressed bodies on his right. Slowly, he leans forward, closer, until he can feel the light trembling of Baekhyun's lips against his own. Baekhyun's eyes are blown wide and his chest is heaving in tiny jumps, quick intakes of breath that match the movement of his lips. And he's lovely. Sunlight from the windows nearby hits him and sets him aglow, aflame, and illuminates his features. From where Myungsoo is, he can see the uneven dip of Baekhyun's lips, can see the pimples on his cheek not covered with make up. The words brimming on Baekhyun's lips, dancing on them until they tumble in stuttered sentences.

"Are you crazy?" Baekhyun mutters, whispers, chuckles.

Myungsoo nods. "Maybe." He moves even closer. Baekhyun's lips are rough, chapped. This has to be rectified soon. "Definitely."

Baekhyun tilts his head back a little but ends up thunking it a bit too hard against the metal. He parts his lips, the small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth blooming into bright laughter. And Myungsoo swallows the sound whole, crushing their lips together in an inelegant slide of their mouths. Baekhyun makes these tiny hiccuped noises at the back of his throat, a small sound of frustration when Myungsoo pulls away a bit to suck on his bottom lip, so he translates the words, slips his hands beneath Myungsoo's shirt and traces the groove of Myungsoo's abs with his fingers. There's a surprised chuckle somewhere there, a hitch of the breath, but Myungsoo keeps kissing him, sucking on his lips, his tongue, licking the corners of Baekhyun's mouth until the alarm goes off. And the smile on Baekhyun's lips hasn't waned yet, the stream of laughter only growing louder everytime they part to catch their breath, everytime Baekhyun whispers, "You are a monster."

"Hello? Can you please shut the door?" comes a voice from the direction of the surveillance camera, and that's when they part, Baekhyun's laughter drowning out the voice. They walk away from the elevator with a dull ache in their jaws and heaving chests, three inches between them, the tight link of their gazes enough to thin those spaces between them with the light brushing of their knuckles.

ミ☆

He runs into Woohyun on his way to the bathroom.

More like Woohyun finally manages to trap him in the bathroom after he'd tried to lose the former earlier, entering one practice room after another and randomly commenting on various trainees' performances. On the up side, he was able to see SHINee and LuNa up close. He's always been a fan of them, being some of the artists whose albums he's actually bought physical copies of. On the down side, he'd missed Baekhyun's last run of his winter song. Baekhyun has been practicing the songs he hadn't touched in a while again, saying he might not know how to sing them anymore. The paranoia is warranted; with only four months left to prepare and a shoot and a half still in their to-do list, there's hardly time to really polish his routine and make sure that there's no way he can screw any of his performances.

He met Baekhyun back in November, when winter was slowly setting in. Skies were almost always overcast and the winds were always blowing too hard. It's spring now. If Baekhyun just learned to smile that bright smile of his more then maybe he could overpower the sun. Maybe.

"Were you running away from me?" is the first thing that Woohyun asks. The second, "Did you seriously break into other practice rooms just to avoid me?"

Myungsoo scoffs. He rests one hand on the door knob, poised to give it a slick turn. He wasn't running away; he was just looking for ways to avoid trouble, danger. He knows how his body reacts to Woohyun's presence – it revolts against his mind and logic. Makes him do weird and crazy things. Sure, he's resolved to himself to get a move on and not look back anymore, but recovery isn't instant. Healing wounds takes time. Even polaroids take time to develop. When the film comes out, you'll be greeted with nothing but an expanse of white and a promise of good things to come minutes after.

"Not really," he answers after a while. To address the second question, he says, "I'm a big fan of SHINee, you know that. I just thought I should maximize my stay here and–"

"Why are you here today? Last I checked, you didn't have a shoot scheduled."

To visit a friend, he'd say, but that doesn't sound accurate. He's here to iron out things run the first batch of shots from yesterday's shoot by Sunggyu and Baekhyun so he can start editing some tonight. He's here to finalize plans for tomorrow's shoot, as well, make sure that Sehun and Jongin have the Kino Flo he'd requested two days ago because they can't go for redheads and blue gels anymore with the colors that spring brings. Spring's warmth plus white light brings out the vibe of the season even more, better, amplifies it tenfold and makes Baekhyun seem more at ease with modeling than he should be. And he's here to watch Baekhyun and give him feedback on his performance. That has become his other part-time job with SM, after all – Baekhyun's friend who isn't afraid to give blunt comments when needed. Baekhyun's distraction from the stress and fatigue this idol life of his brings. And Baekhyun's object of affection because he has so much love to give. Sunggyu has always said that Baekhyun had so much unspent energy in him that he was always bouncing on the balls of his feet, always on his heels. Sunggyu's wrong; Baekhyun just doesn't know where to slot his hands when he isn't holding a microphone and performing. Baekhyun just needs someone to listen to him, not marvel at him. He just needs someone to be there for him.

"The shoot was yesterday. We have another tomorrow. I just have to make sure that Sehun and Jongin are bringing the right lights. We'll be on location tomorrow, after all."

Woohyun shrugs. He rests one hand on his waist and tilts his head to the side. "Mhmm. Cool. Their office is at the ground floor, though. Bet you knew that." He laughs. Myungsoo wants to punch him in the face. Or in the balls. Whichever requires less effort but leaves more pain. "Why were you running to the bathroom, then?"

"I needed to take a dump," Myungsoo reasons.

"Then please, by all means, shit all over the place." Woohyun shifts, then digs his hands in his back pocket. "But before that, please... Please give me a chance to talk to you."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. The last time they talked, really talked was that time when Woohyun explained that he didn't want to risk his career for a 'silly love story with a silly man'. Dreams before dicks. As simple as that. It made sense – Woohyun had been working hard to get recognized a singer, after all, had been doing gigs in Hongdae and Itaewon. He and Sunggyu were always invited, all expenses paid. All they had to do was to show up in their best mood and party outfit and nothing else. They had access to the open bar, thanks to the generosity of the club owner, and were more than able dancers. And Woohyun had the ability to draw people in. Sometimes, he'd even give pro-bono shows long after his set was over. That was what made Woohyun loved by all – you could feel his passion for singing and performing just by seeing him stand on stage. He didn't even have to grab a mic and starting. All he had to do was to stand there, head held high. Then the lights would always seem to wrap around him the right way, illuminating his best features and hiding the imperfections.

The last time Myungsoo attended one of Woohyun's gigs was way after graduation. He'd lined up with the crowd and paid for the entrance. He grabbed the complimentary drink and stuck with it the whole night, until Woohyun went up on stage. Woohyun caught him staring, watching a couple of times, but neither of them had the balls to walk up to each other to sort things out.

If they wanted to make things work then they would have done something, anything. But they didn't. They were a disaster waiting to happen.

That's all in the past, Myungsoo tells himself. Maybe Woohyun has changed. Maybe he's better now. Maybe's no longer the fuck up that he used to be. So he says, "Go on," and locks the door behind him.

Woohyun smiles, takes a deep breath. He parts his lips and says, "I'm... sorry."

The last time Myungsoo was trapped in a bathroom, he found Baekhyun and found a sliver of light peeking from the narrow crack in his walls. The situation he is in now... It's vastly different from that. Here Woohyun is, standing just a few feet away, dressed in his simple practice jeans and shirt and worn-out shoes. He doesn't look like the same SM idol that he is on TV, or posters, or the man in the CDs Myungsoo has back at home. He doesn't look like 'NamWoo'. Who even thought that was a nice name? It's horrible, leaves a bad taste in Myungsoo's mouth the same way that Woohyun calling their 'relationship' and Myungsoo 'silly' left the taste of blood so thick on Myungsoo's tongue. He looks like good ol' Nam Woohyun who was a music production major but spent more time in the design department with the photography kids. He looks like the same friend who Myungsoo would normally turn to in times of need, whenever he needed a second and honest opinion on his designs. He looks like the same guy who helped Myungsoo realize that you don't need to be among the great photographers of the era to be able to produce good photographs. You just have to believe in yourself and keep practicing. Shoot and shoot until you run out of film or battery. Shoot until you can see yourself in your photographs, in the tiny still recordings of people's lives even if you don't know the people who you're taking photographs of. Your craft is an extension of yourself, after all. If you can't find yourself in it then maybe you're not looking hard enough, not digging deep enough. Maybe you haven't played around with the exposure and other settings enough to know that Tungsten should never be used on scenes that have cool lighting, or that Cloudy should never be used indoors unless you're dealing with fluorescent lighting.

And that Daylight is always the safest setting, the brightest light. You can never go wrong with it.

"Sorry for what?" Myungsoo asks now. He leans back against the door, takes a deep breath. "You have to tell me what you're apologizing for."

"I'm sorry for everything."

"Specifics, Woohyun. Figures, numbers, details." He worries his bottom lip. Woohyun hasn't changed a bit, still unwilling to use his words and resorting to using his limbs, instead. Woohyun kicks on the tiled floor. "Use your words, Woohyun. It's been years and what, you'll still leave it up to me to figure out what you want to say?"

"Whoa. Don't you go telling me now to use my words. You barely said anything. You always– What was that?" Woohyun laughs a little. It sounds rough, dry. Hardened by experience and distance. "You'd always whisper things and just use your hands instead of repeating whatever you said–"

"At least I used my words. Said what I meant to say. I speak up more often now. I had to learn the hard way," Myungsoo argues. He looks to his side, biting the of his cheek. His hands are balled into fists. He can slam them onto the door and cause ruckus, or he can punch Woohyun in the goddamned face for being so uncooperative. He's done solving puzzles and figuring out word problems. He's painting scenes now, lives. He doesn't want to slip into the same old habit of deciphering the quirk of Woohyun's lips, his eyes, his discerning gaze. "But you– Woohyun, you always left me hanging. Left notes instead of saying what you wanted to say. Well thank you for the notes, I appreciate them. Appreciated them." He drawls out the last few syllables. "You don't even sing your own goddamned songs because you don't know how– Or you don't want to acknowledge how you feel."

Woohyun drops his gaze to his feet. Clasps his hands together, too, his knuckles turning a brighter white with every passing second. The tight knot in Myungsoo's chest loosens a little, but returns with a vengeance when he takes a deep breath. Old wounds haven't healed just yet. It takes time. "Five years, Woohyun. It's been five years. Come on, prove to me that you're better now. That you didn't just waste away those five years of your life pretending to be some perfect creature on camera and singing someone else's songs when you can very well write your own and sing them."

Woohyun laughs. "You think I'm perfect?"

Myungsoo snorts. "I saw that coming."

"And you know my lyrics are shit. You should know that better than anyone else." Woohyun scratches his nape, three lazy scratches as if he's still trying to peel the surface of his emotions, scouring for the right words. "I know nothing about writing nice songs whatsoever," he continues.

Myungsoo smiles a little. "But they mean more to you. The ones you... we wrote before. Back in college." With each other, for each other. It was fall of their last year in college. It was a song about falling out of love and falling back in. In some ways, it was opposite their story. But thinking about it, maybe they weren't talking about falling for each other. Maybe they were talking about falling in love with themselves again, finding something to appreciate in their own selves and using that to come up with better words – songs, art. The shit people say about artists being arrogant and self-loathing? It's true, but only because the things they make with their hands all contain a part of them. Tiny pieces of the artist – tears, blood, sweat, time and effort, love – that all make up the very core of the artwork, the song, the photograph, the performance.

"The Three Bears parody?"

"Shut up," Myungsoo whispers. He inches closer, then kicks one of Woohyun's shoes. "You know what I'm talking about."

Woohyun's shoulder slump forward. His white shirt is almost threadbare and the dip of the v-neck reveals pale flesh. His hair looks like a disaster, clumped together by heat and sweat and hard work. And he has dark circles under his eyes. It's almost impossible for idols to not have scars of hard work on their faces, but Woohyun just looks so drained and dampened by fatigue. He almost looks like that lost kid Myungsoo discovered Woohyun to be after that art appreciation class of theirs, where Woohyun was in the garden and slumped against the wall, head phones slung on and blasting Dave Matthews Band songs on repeat. The live tracks.

"You left your... notes. In class," Myungsoo remembers saying then. He tossed two thick notebooks in Woohyun's direction. In hindsight, he should've thrown them straight to Woohyun's face. Woohyun addressed him with a curt nod and didn't speak until five minutes after, when Crash Into Me came on and Woohyun realized Myungsoo hadn't left yet.

"You like DMB?" Woohyun asked.

Myungsoo shrugged. DMB was his favorite artist of the year. He had all their songs on his MP3 player. And Woohyun was a stranger who was hyperactive in class but had little to no energy outside the classroom. "They're okay."

"They're okay? They're not just–" Woohyun huffed. "Look, kid, you clearly haven't heard their best songs yet–"

Myungsoo would walk home with a friend that afternoon, the music split between their headsets using Myungsoo's headphone splitter. That night, they'd both write a song akin to Crash Into Me and show it to each other too many months and little concerts after.

There's no music to make Woohyun perk up now, though, to jolt Woohyun back to life and out of his current slumped form. So Myungsoo takes a few steps back, unlocking the door, then walks back forward to where Woohyun is and gives him a gentle nudge. Slowly, he plays the opening chords of the song they wrote in his mind, the guitar coming in in a soft, gentle tune. He's taken back to five years and a couple of months ago, to Woohyun's dorm room in K-ARTS, one fine autumn evening with nothing but Woohyun's desk lamp illuminating the chords and lyrics they'd written on the paper.

"I was perched outside in the pouring rain, trying to make myself a sail," Myungsoo begins, voice starting out faint. It's been years since he last sang, really sang with the intent of articulating his words. He'd usually just hum under his breath and sway his head from side to side. Somehow, it was enough to just have instrumentals in the background. He'd let his mind make up the lyrics, replace some words in the original lyrics with words he thinks fit the tune better. It's better that way, songs not having a set meaning and, instead, deriving their very essence from the music, itself. "Then I'll float to you, my darling, with the evening on my tail–"

"Although not the most honest means of travel, it gets me there, nonetheless," Woohyun continues, looking up and meeting Myungsoo in the eye. His eyes are wide, searching, asking, why do you still remember? Why are you singing this? Why, of all the songs we've made, this one? Simple: it's the first that came to mind. It's the song that, when he closes his eyes and just thinks of Woohyun, he'll start humming. It's the Woohyun song. "I'm a heartless man, at worst, babe, and a helpless one at best–"

The percussion comes in in Myungsoo's mind. Woohyun straightens up. He taps a familiar beat on the counter, fingers drumming on the surface. They're eye-to-eye now and he can see Woohyun better, can make out the movement of his lips, the movement in his throat, the way his voice resonates in every part of his body. It almost feels like college, when the three of them would just stay in Woohyun's room or maybe Sunggyu's, jamming to some of their favorite tunes and trying to rework them, trying to make those songs better. Except it isn't. They're in a bathroom, just the two of them, without Sunggyu to harmonize with them. They don't have their guitars with them and they don't have anyone to provide them with percussions. They can't even tell who's singing lead vocals and who's doing second vocals. Where their voices would find a nice fit before with only minimal to little coordination, it's now become difficult to harmonize. Woohyun's voice has become ten times more rounded and deeper than before. There's still the same grit and gravel to his voice but it's different now, as if they're two bodies moving to two different beats, two voices singing two different songs. And Myungsoo knows that voice but doesn't know how to sing with it anymore, like those five long years between them have washed away the last dregs of their duets.

Woohyun presses on, though. Myungsoo accommodates. He raises his voice an octave higher and it works, but not without putting strain on Myungsoo's vocals.

He stops singing after a while, when they hit the bridge, where the percussions thin into silence and then come back stronger, hit harder. Woohyun's voice echoes in the bathroom, fills Myungsoo's senses with a strange kind of warmth he hasn't felt in years. And it's sickening. His chest feels so full and his stomach is a mess and there are tens, hundreds, thousands of voices screaming at the back of his mind. You can sing with him if you tried hard enough, you can still catch up. What are you waiting for, Myungsoo? Woohyun's just a touch away and if you just leaned closer–

Woohyun balls his hands into fists in Myungsoo's shirt. Myungsoo jerks back, looking away and looking to his side. "Just... give me some candy before I go," Woohyun keeps singing, albeit in a fainter voice, until it cracks and falters. This is it, Myungsoo thinks, the best part of the song where every emotion the verses kept trying to push down are soaring above the song itself. It's too warm, too hot that Woohyun's touch feels like scalding his own tongue or burning his skin. Woohyun isn't even tugging that hard on his top or pulling him close. He's just there, holding onto Myungsoo's shirt tight, like if he so much as thought of loosening his grip, Myungsoo would run away.

You know that I'll be there waiting for you– Myungsoo remembers this part of the song. He was the one who added that part, the one who insisted to keep the lyric for the last minute of the song to a hymn of the same line. It sounded perfect that time – Woohyun kept running off and running around. Myungsoo stood still in his place and waited for Woohyun to return to him after band practice, after his gigs, after flirting with his female bandmate on stage. After drinking up the fame and forgetting that he started small, in that tiny dorm room that used to feel too big even with three bodies cramped in it. He sang himself hoarse but only until nine in the evening because he didn't want to disturb neighbors then; there was enough turmoil in himself as it is. No need to get others into his own mess.

And Woohyun couldn't hear Myungsoo's hoarse singing. Couldn't hear beyond the cheers of the people, his fans. Couldn't hear the voice of the person who wrote most, if not all the songs he sang on stage. So Myungsoo looked to the lights, instead, wished for the bright lights to blind him so he wouldn't have to see Woohyun sing his life on the same stage that forced Woohyun to wear a different skin.

Behind them, the door knob turns. Myungsoo shakes his head and takes a step back. Woohyun tries to chase after him, fingers grasping at air, but to no avail – Myungsoo has already taken three steps back to the one forward motion Woohyun makes.

"Stop," Myungsoo whispers. Woohyun's eyes widen. Woohyun has stopped drumming his fingers on the counter like the music in him has died. It hasn't. It shouldn't. Passion isn't supposed to cripple you like this; it's supposed to fuel you, boost your drive to great heights. And they've always been bad news for each other, nothing but bad news.

The rattling of the door knob comes to a halt. Woohyun hasn't stopped furrowing his eyebrows just yet, hasn't stopped narrowing his eyebrows and squinting and inching closer, like covering the distance between them with a few steps is supposed to make a difference. "What do you mean stop? We–" He laughs, but it comes out too throaty, like Woohyun hasn't vocalized yet. They were singing just a few minutes ago. Myungsoo winces. "We just saw each other again. You're supposed to give me a chance because I know better now, Soo, I know better now! I–"

Myungsoo takes another step back. He can feel his eyebrows twitching. And he can feel his chest constrict, the thrumming inside him quickening in pace. When Woohyun reaches out, hand stopping midway through, he shakes his head again. Then Woohyun's dropping his hand to his side, shoulders slumping forward and his gaze dropping to the tiled floor. "You can't tell me what to do–"

"And don't tell me it was that easy for you to just throw everything away. Just don't–" Woohyun takes a deep breath. "We've just seen each other again, Soo. We haven't even tried again. I mean, I know how to cover my tracks now. I can sneak out of my house if I wanted to without getting tracked. I know how to disappear off the face of the earth and–"

And Woohyun knows exactly how to crash into someone's life again, like he hadn't wrecked the same thing years ago. Like it hadn't taken years just to get started on the patching work. Woohyun's a ticking time bomb, a walking ball of disaster. And Myungsoo knows better. He's not about to put all his hard work to waste, drop his suitcase and rush into Woohyun's waiting arms on a whim.

"And you have to stop this."

"Stop telling me to–" Woohyun pinches the bridge of his nose. "Stop telling me to stop!"

This one's familiar – he recognizes it from years ago, when Woohyun would get caught in a sticky web of the shit he's done and he knew there was nothing he could do to escape it. But he would still attempt to shovel his way out of his grave because why the hell not, right? If Woohyun was better at anything other than singing and performing then it would be being stubborn, hard-headed. Being too persistent to the point of foolishly rushing into things because 'it's not over 'til it's over.' Pushing himself and pushing road blocks until he can push them off a cliff and claim victory over his hurdles.

But there's nothing to push anymore. They've both fallen off the cliff and fallen hard. They've already pushed themselves off the ground and gotten back to their feet. Myungsoo's not stupid enough to run as fast as he can until he can't feel the ground beneath his feet anymore, until he's falling back down without any chance of survival. And he's not stupid enough to watch Woohyun willingly throw himself into the bottomless pit. He'll pull Woohyun out of the mess as soon as he can.

So Myungsoo tells him, "Don't do this to yourself." He rests one hand on the knob behind them, just places it there without giving the knob a twist. He can feel the subtle movement, though, the slow turning of the metal and the wisps of noise on the other side of the door seeping through the narrow opening. The dissonance calms him a little; the cool sensation on his palm slows down the racing in his chest. "Woohyun, we're both better without... without whatever we had. Let's stop this."

Woohyun furrows his eyebrows. Too familiar, Myungsoo muses – this is the face Woohyun wears when he wants to get something, desperately wants to win the battle by a landslide and nothing less. And lurching sensation in his stomach is familiar, too. It's overwhelming, consuming. It makes him sick.

"That's it, Soo? No second chances? You kept declining my calls and kept avoiding me all these years. If we could just start over, if you could just give me one more chance, a minute, a second, a couple of days–"

"Then we'll be back where we began," Myungsoo finishes. He bites down on his lower lip, trying to bring back the feeling in his fingers, but they're still cold. Too cold. If Baekhyun were here then Baekhyun would have reached for his hand already without Myungsoo having to say anything. He'd just hold it by the tips, testing the waters and counting to ten until Myungsoo relaxes into the touch. Until Myungsoo threads their fingers together and pulls him close. And that's the thing: Baekhyun waits for the right time, then launches his attack once he's sure of what he wants. He gave Myungsoo an option. Woohyun's giving him a chance to break his heart again, forcing Myungsoo to give him another chance. "And then we might fuck things up again. Woohyun, you're an idol. You have people watching you 24/7. You can't afford to be seen with me doing whatever–"

"And Baekhyun has that leisure?" Woohyun says. He laughs a little. "I knew it, the moment I saw you two, I knew there was something. The way he looked at you, Jesus–" He shakes his head, rolls his eyes. The smile on his lips hangs loosely at the corners, stiff and trite. Myungsoo just wants to wipe it away – with his hands, his fists, never his lips. "He's an idol, too. How come you hang out with him and let him put his arms around your waist? How come you let him hold your hand? How come you–" He hangs his head low, voice almost dropping to a whisper.

"Why him?" Woohyun asks. A heartbeat, then, "Why not me?"

Myungsoo presses his lips together. The answer is there, at the back of his throat, waiting for a clumsy enunciation. And he would've blurted it out even before Woohyun could finish is he was five years younger, if he was young and wild and too stupid to think of the consequences of his actions. But he's old now. Things have changed. He's been thinking things through ever since Woohyun left, reading the road signs more carefully, and all of them are leading him to the fastest way out.

"Because he knew what he wanted right from the start. And he let me know that," Myungsoo begins. He takes a deep breath when Woohyun looks up, meeting his gaze. Woohyun eyes are dark, heavy. They look like a barricaded door. So Myungsoo starts knocking, gently prying Woohyun open, hoping to make him understand. "And he never forced anything on me. He never– He gave me an option but he never made me choose."

"And I did?"

Myungsoo rolls his eyes. "You forced me to," he answers, then scratches his jeans a little. "When you said you don't want to risk your career for your 'silly love story with a silly boy.'"

"Shit," Woohyun whispers. "You... remembered."

"I remember everything. It's a built-mechanism. It's a curse," he answers, "But there's also the option to remember other things, better ones." A good morning call from Baekhyun, long conversations over breakfast. Surprising Sunggyu in the SM building by arriving an hour early and offering to pay. Surprising Baekhyun late at night by showing up for his practice and staying there until he's done even if Myungsoo already knows the way he moves so well that he can close his eyes and know, just by the sound of Baekhyun's sneakers squeaking, that Baekhyun's there. And that Baekhyun's moving closer, that Baekhyun's telling him to open his eyes, look at me now, Myungsoo. Open your eyes–

And Baekhyun surprising him at the end of the day with the warmth of his palms and the slide of their hands, their fingers in a nice, snug fit between each other. Baekhyun surprising him by falling silent when the wind blows and just letting him speak. Baekhyun listening, singing with him when Myungsoo asks him to. And Baehyun never overpowering his voice but, instead, guiding it until Myungsoo feels confident enough to belt out the big notes.

Woohyun leans back against the counter. There's a small smile tugging up at the corners of his lips, but his eyes haven't lightened up yet. "So I really was a douchebag, huh?"

Myungsoo snorts, cackles. He presses the back of his hand to his lips, dropping it to his side only when he can feel his tongue again. "And you finally admit it."

"Hey, that's mean!" Woohyun retorts. He grumbles, moving forward to land a light jab to Myungsoo's arm. "You are evil–"

Behind them, the door swings open, hitting Myungsoo on the back just hard enough to make him yowl. "Oh shit," comes a familiar voice, and suddenly the pain lifts a little. The sting of the impact dissipates, eases into the normal thrumming inside his body when a warm palm comes to settle on his back. "Oh shit, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to–"

Myungsoo looks over his shoulder, meeting Baekhyun in the eye. Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows and purses his lips, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. Myungsoo laughs a little. It's so spontaneous a reaction that if Sunggyu saw it, he'd tell Baekhyun to 'fix his face'. SM trains its talents to look approachable all the time, to look as if they're free of worries and hardships, but Baekhyun's a rule-breaker. He holds Myungsoo's hand in public even if winter's long gone. He goes out without make up sometimes because, "It smells awful. And when I sweat a lot and my sweat rolls down to my eyes, it feels like stabbing my eyes with toothpicks. Metal toothpicks. The really sharp ones. But yeah, it just... really smells bad." And Baekhyun isn't afraid to scrunch his face to communicate what his mind is saying when his tongue is having difficulty catching up with his own thoughts.

'What the hell is he doing there?' Baekhyun mouths at him. He looks at Woohyun, then, and blinks a few times. Recalibrates. Puts on his best, most behaved idol face as he says, "Hello. We... met. A few days back."

Woohyun laughs a little. "You took him away from me," he says, cocking his head in Myungsoo's direction. Baekhyun cocks and eyebrow at him at the same time that Myungsoo does. It almost seems like his expressions are an extension of Baekhyun's and vice versa. Or maybe they've just been hanging out with each other far too much that they've already picked up each other's knee-jerk reactions to even the smallest of things. "I mean that night, when Sunggyu called to say he was picking you up and stuff. You had your... hands around his waist. When you pulled him away." He takes a deep breath. "Don't let anyone else see you doing that. If I were the management then I'd flip and call you out on that but–"

But you would have done the same, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. Woohyun would've done the same, albeit a bit more stealthily. He's never been too big on risks, after all. Maybe ball his hands into fists in Myungsoo's shirt at the back instead of securing his hands on Myungsoo's waist to pull him away from the scene. Then he'd hold Myungsoo by the arm instead of the wrist because it's not as risky but just as warm. It would just seem as if he's redirecting Myungsoo somewhere else. No big deal. And then he'd keep Myungsoo a safe six inches away instead of pulling him close until Myungsoo could feel nothing but their shared heat in the fit of their bodies. Safe plays, no risks. The only big risks Woohyun takes are the high notes well outside his range that he belts out, despite the knowledge that there's only a tiny sweet spot between his highest tone and his falsetto where his voice should fall under for him to pull off a really high note.

"But you understand, don't you?" Baekhyun says. He takes a step forward. His palm is still warm on the small of Myungsoo's back. He's rubbing weird figures on Myungsoo's back with his thumb, doodles without any direction. Maybe he just wants to do something with his hands. Maybe he's trying to restore the feeling in his fingers. Maybe he doesn't want to be here, and he wants to escape now, but– "But you know how it feels, being trapped. What we have to go through as idols, what we... have to sacrifice and what we'd do just to steal a few minutes of freedom," Baekhyun continues. Myungsoo looks to his side, meeting Baekhyun's gaze. They're focused, not piercing. Discerning, not attacking. "The crazy things we have to do just to... I dunno, be able to breathe?"

Woohyun laughs a little. "I have a shitty memory and it's been years since I debuted but yeah, I... know how that feels." He locks his arms behind his back, stretching them until he can hear his bones crack. He smiles, more relaxed at the corners. His cheeks no longer look stiff. Myungsoo sort of... wants to reach out and maybe brush that lone bead of sweat on his cheek. Or the water welling up at the corners of his eyes. But that's not his job anymore. Woohyun's a big boy now. They're all big boys now, the three of them. They should know how to deal with their own shit by now. "Standing by the rules has its merits, I'll have you know that, but... You're something, kid. To have enough courage to do that in the building, knowing that the management can terminate your contract anytime–"

Myungsoo gulps down hard. He can feel Baekhyun's pulse on his back, seeping through his threadbare shirt. So he stays there, moves even closer until he can reach for Baekhyun's waist with his own hand. "He's crazy," he mutters when Baekhyun leans into the touch. He gives Baekhyun a tiny pinch in the side, then, just enough to earn a faint 'hey!'.

"Can't say he's wrong, though. I am a bit crazy," Baekhyun admits. He scratches the slope of his neck with a finger, just one, and Woohyun's eyes widen a little. One bright red scratch on the expanse of skin, then some two, three short lines near his collarbone. Then a bright red mark blooming on the underside of his jaw from where Myungsoo had reminded him earlier that I've made my decision, Baekhyun. I've made a choice. And I choose you.

Myungsoo's stomach does a funny tumble. He laughs a little. It's the silliest thing he's ever said while at the height of his emotions but it communicated the message well, right? He needs more practice in this whole articulating your feelings thing, but he's getting there. And step one is being completely honest with himself. That's the least he can offer to Baekhyun for all the help Baekhyun has given him, for all of Baekhyun's patience in helping Myungsoo put the puzzle pieces together so he can finally finished the damned picture.

He pulls Baekhyun even closer to his side, shivering a little at the surge of warmth. Baekhyun chokes a little, but presses on. "And Sunggyu-hyung calls me his biggest headache so I guess I'm not... one of those conventional Korean idols of our generation."

Woohyun looks up, looks at Myungsoo until their eyes meet. A corner of his lips quirks up at the same time that he tilts his head to the side. It's almost as if he's saying, I missed something. When I said that earlier that I knew something was going between you two, I thought I already saw everything but Jesus, Myungsoo, I knew I was missing something, somehow. He holds his hands up, then, using his index fingers and thumbs to form a frame. "Damn, you two would look good on print. Digital. Whatever. You two look really good," he mumbles, but there's no grit to his tone, none of the natural gravel that his voice usually has when he's singing to please and to impress. Right now he's just... saying something, saying what he wants to say, what he means to say. "I... might just be a fan."

"Might just be?" Baekhyun teases. "You're not sure?"

Myungsoo nudges Baekhyun in his side. Baekhyun groans, but the choked voice soon blooms into bright laughter when Myungsoo massages the area he's assaulted just earlier.

Woohyun takes a deep breath and takes a step back. Myungsoo hasn't looked away from Baekhyun yet, unwilling to back down from the all-out staring game, but he can make out the soft smile on Woohyun's lips from a corner of his eye. So he blinks, turns to his side, but keeps his fingers splayed on Baekhyun's stomach. He stays there, right beside Baekhyun, but returns the smile Woohyun is offering him one of his own.

Woohyun doesn't answer until a minute or two after, once they've already shuffled outside the bathroom and Baekhyun has already solicited hair advice from him. He opens his mouth to speak, lips trembling a little, but his hand is steady on Myungsoo's shoulder. His fingers are cold, but his palm is warm. Just a little more, Myungsoo thinks, just a little more and the warmth will seep into the rest of Woohyun's body, thawing him out and keeping him warm and alive again. Just one small step, one hitch of the breath, and Woohyun will finally be able to step out of the darkness.

"I'm sure," he says, voice firm and resolute. Myungsoo looks at Woohyun's hand on his shoulder, then looks up to meet his gaze. "I'm... sure now."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. Slowly, he turns around, but not without whistling at Baekhyun to, "Hey, hold up!" He extends his hand in Woohyun's direction, then, still maintaining a good twelve inches between them. This has always been Woohyun's comfortable distance from people, after all. Maybe soon, he can thin that to a couple of centimeters or even to just a deep breath.

"Are you entering into a deal with me?" Woohyun asks, laughing.

"No. I'm just saying hello to a fan," Myungsoo answers. Woohyun slips his hand in Myungsoo's own, and Myungsoo gives it a light squeeze. "And saying 'welcome back' to an old friend."

Woohyun's eyes widen. For a moment, Myungsoo wonders if Woohyun will pull him in for a hug because he's always been better at talking with his body, but Woohyun doesn't. Instead, he just stands there, parting his lips then pressing them together and then parting them open again. So Myungsoo counts to three, five, ten in his head, until Woohyun mutters, "Ugh Christ, this talking this is–" under his breath.

"Say it," Myungsoo challenges. "Come on, say it."

"I need time to process things."

"That's not what you wanted to say."

"Oh, shut up! You don't know what I really want to–"

Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him and tightens his hold on Woohyun's hand. They're twenty-eight going on twenty-nine. They have a more extensive vocabulary now than when they were in college where half of the words they knew were modifications of 'shit', 'fuck', and 'asshole'. And they should know themselves better now, should know how to express themselves in words where actions will not suffice.

Taking a deep breath, Woohyun nods to himself and opens his eyes. The nasty dark circles are still there, pulling down the rest of his features, but the light in his eyes breathes a bit of life into him. "I hate you. I hate him for taking you away," Woohyun admits. He licks his lips, then continues, "But thank you. For... For finally listening after, you know, hopping from one practice room to another–"

"Shut up," Myungsoo grumbles. He gives the tip of Woohyun's tattered shoes a light kick. He ends up applying more force than necessary. Woohyun groans a bit in response.

"–for ruining this moment when I'm finally admitting to being an asshole–" Woohyun holds up a finger between them as if saying nope, don't you even dare ruin this one. I'm going to kick you in the balls if you say a word. "And for pushing me to give myself another chance."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath and leans back. Sunlight hits them in a peculiar manner, washes out some of the dirt marks on Woohyun's shirt, lifts the dark circles under his eyes and breathes into him a new light. And it makes Myungsoo warm. Baekhyun isn't even there beside him, still a few feet from where they are, yet he can feel the tension in his fingers easing, thawing out. This is a better look on you, he wants to tell Woohyun, when you aren't wearing a fake smile and aren't pretending that everything's perfect, but he doesn't. Instead, he gives Woohyun a curt nod and says, "Anything for a friend."

Woohyun snorts. Wiggles his eyebrows, too, as he says, "Anything?"

"Oh God. Just shut up, Nam Woohyun–"

"You're so slow! I thought we were–" comes Baekhyun's voice, trailing off in tandem with his fading footsteps. He's about one, two feet away, close enough that Myungsoo can reach out for Baekhyun and hold his hand if he wanted to. Close enough that, if he ever feels a bit too cold, he can easily slide next to Baekhyun and let Baekhyun's warmth seep into his clothes, skin, heart. But Baekhyun's inching away, two small steps every three seconds, walking backwards while facing the two. "O–kay. I'll... just be waiting here," he says. "Soo, if you need more time–"

"No, he doesn't," Woohyun says, then pulls away with an easy smile. He digs the same hand in his pocket and waves at Baekhyun with the other. "I'll be off now. See you two around!"

Myungsoo isn't a stranger to watching Woohyun's retreating figure, isn't a stranger to seeing Woohyun walk away without risking a glance over his shoulder. But he is a stranger to this – Baekhyun giving him a gentle nudge in the arm, Baekhyun looking at him, just looking at him through the narrow slits of his bangs. "You okay?" he asks, voice soft and tentative. He worries his bottom lip. He'll end up with chapped lips again and Sunggyu will have to remind him to apply lip balm every so often because, 'As an idol, you have to lure people in. Yeah, you're gonna use your lips a lot and make them want to kiss you so use the damned lip balm.'

Idol. The word rings in his ears. Baekhyun is an idol. He's debuting in a few months. They're in the SM building right now and maybe it's a bit too risky to let the loud thumping in his chest control the rest of his body, but why the hell not? So Myungsoo looks around, reaches over, and tucks Baekhyun's hair behind his ears. Then he curls his fingers on Baekhyun's nape, rubbing his thumb up and down the side. Baekhyun lets out the faintest, softest mewl, and he's looking at Myungsoo with an alluring gaze and a small, sleazy smile at the corners of his lips.

So Myungsoo leans over to place the softest kiss on Baekhyun's lips, brief and feather-light.

Myungsoo pulls away with trembling fingers. Baekhyun lets out a soft gasp. It doesn't quite fill the space they're in with sound, but it does ring in Myungsoo's ears. "That's... your answer?" Baekhyun asks, lips quivering. He licks them open, then worries his bottom lip. "I mean, that's it?"

"Part of it," Myungsoo confesses. He drops his hands to Baekhyun's chest, then says, "It'll tell you the rest later."

Baekhyun turns beet red for a moment, and then he's giving Myungsoo's cheek a light pinch. "Oh, so you're asking me on a date now?" he asks, teasing, but there's no mistaking the cracking of his voice somewhere between 'date' and the underlying 'are you serious?'. The flush on his own cheeks hasn't waned yet, but he's wearing the same brand of confidence again in the tilt of his chin, in the way he holds his head up high, in the dip of his back, in the shape of his body. This is Byun Baekhyun, SM's idol-to-be, the next big name in the world of music and entertainment. This is Byun Baekhyun, the winner of the recently concluded The Voice of Korea, the champion who won a contract with SM and was made to debut four months earlier than they'd planned.

He's Byun Baekhyun, the same man who pulled Myungsoo out of his misery, out of the darkness and into the light. The same man who's walking a few steps ahead, back turned to Myungsoo but cheeks pulled up high like he doesn't want to be seen smiling his bright and beautiful smile.

"It is, if you want it to be," Myungsoo answers. Baekhyun stops in his tracks and turns around, sneakers squeaking on the floor. "You... don't have to say yes, though, if you don't want to–"

"Yes," Baekhyun says, voice barely above a whisper. He clears his throat, then, the dissonance echoing throughout the hall. "Yes, yes, yes," he says this time, each repetition louder than the previous, and he's walking over, moving forward, inching closer until the tips of their toes touch.

"Then it's a date," Myungsoo whispers. He kicks at Baekhyun's foot lightly, then repeats, "So will you? Go out with me for dinner."

Baekhyun's mouth twists into a weird sort of smile. He's silent for a few seconds, like he's reconsidering everything, like he wants to take everything back, but soon the silence is broken by his soft giggles, tiny packets of laughter. And then the corners of his mouth pull up into a wild, wicked grin. And he's looking at Myungsoo, smiling at him, for him, ignoring the weird looks of the other trainees passing them by.

"It's a date," Baekhyun answers. The smile on his lips is bright, blinding. It's the most beautiful thing Myungsoo has seen in years. "It's a date."

ミ☆

"Okay, it's a wrap!" Myungsoo claps his hands in the air and bows to the crew, then Baekhyun's staff. When he turns to Sunggyu, he offers him a salute. "Good job, everyone!"

It's already close to sundown when they finish the last shoot for spring. The redheads have already been filed back in their bags, sheets of blue gel slotted between thick cardboards so that they won't get crinkled during the packing up. Sehun's working on dismounting the Kino Flo from its stand and Jongin's disassembling the soft box. Sunggyu's walking over to return the reflector to the crew. He offers a hand from time to time, helping out with the lighting if he isn't busy talking to the SM management and sorting things out for the next slew of photoshoots.

Baekhyun has a few lined up next week – one for Codes Combine, then another for SPAO. They're still trying to work out the kinks with Buckaroo but that should also be a go. "I'd have the perfect ass for those jeans, damn," Baekhyun said one time, looking at himself in the mirror. He twisted his torso even more, accentuating the curve of his body as he stuck out his ass. He looked hilarious, but the dip of his back was nice. The way his broad shoulders framed the rest of his petite body was a nice contrast to the slope of his lower back.

"Like what you're seeing?" Baekhyun asked that time, when he saw Myungsoo staring.

Myungsoo wiggled his eyebrows at him, crossed his legs. It was more difficult when he was sitting cross-legged on the floor and the fluorescent light just behind Baekhyun was casting Baekhyun a weird, dreamy glow. "What do you think?"

Baekhyun looked around for an audience. Sunggyu had stepped out earlier to attend a meeting. He probably wasn't going to be back in the next twenty, thirty minutes. There weren't any security cameras in this particular room. So he moved closer, one inch forward for every intake of breath. Then he dropped to his knees, dropped a hand on Myungsoo's thigh, and licked his lips. Myungsoo couldn't look, couldn't shy away. "I guess I'll just have to find out."

"Hey!" comes Baekhyun's voice from behind now. He gives Myungsoo's ass a light tap, which, these days, has come to mean 'I'm hungry in the most wholesome way possible but you have a damn fine ass'. Myungsoo responds in kind and saves the squeezing for when he slips an arm around Myungsoo's waist. This should be fine, he muses. Baekhyun does it with Sunggyu and Jongin and Sehun. Sehun even sort of leans in sometimes, and whenever that happens Myungsoo only digs his hands in his back pockets as Baekhyun holds his gaze, mischief in the way Baekhyun's lips curl up in a tiny, electrifying smile. It's as if Baekhyun's saying, you can do more than this when we're alone. The two of them in a dark room, bodies pressed against each other, flushed and warm.

Baekhyun looks to his side, meeting his gaze. He looks around for a while before snaking an arm around Baekhyun's shoulders. Sunggyu's just a few feet away and Jinri might be looking at them and– "Oh? Feeling brave, are we?" Baekhyun whispers in his ear, wet and warm lips brushing against Myungsoo's skin. He blows hot breath into Myungsoo's ear and Myungsoo shivers all over. "You've never–"

"I was thinking we should... get to reviewing the pictures before we part ways," Myungsoo announces when Tiffany passes them by, throwing them a casual glance and a wave. Baekhyun waves back, calling out after her, "Jonginnie says you're looking better these days, noona!" Jongin growls at Baekhyun, but eventually realizes that he's just confirmed whatever Baekhyun said about him. 0-1 in Baekhyun's favor, or maybe 1-1 since Tiffany's chuckling and giving Jongin's cheek a light pinch. "I'm serious, though, I got a handful of nice shots for your spring concept. Hyung chose around twenty the other day so we have to–"

Baekhyun shifts in his position a little, pulling away so he can tuck his chin on Myungsoo's shoulder. He has one hand on Myungsoo's hip, his other arm around Myungsoo's waist and his warm fingers splayed on Myungsoo's stomach. His breath is too warm on the slope of Myungsoo's neck. It's prickling, tickling. Right, very subtle. Myungsoo keeps up the image, though, holding up his camera and actually turning it on. They do have at least four hundred pictures to go through and trim down to just ten, twenty photos, after all. And if they can get started on picking of the nice ones then there will be less work for Myungsoo to do in the succeeding days.

Baekhyun starts humming. This isn't the type of work environment that Myungsoo's been built for. If this were a battle then Myungsoo would be waving the flag right now, two minutes into the fight. "I said, we have to work," Myungsoo says through gritted teeth. He doesn't even know if he's scrolling forward or backward now.

"But I am working," Baekhyun singsongs. He presses even closer and points at the picture on the screen. His chest is warm, warmer that his hands and the rest of his body. Something else feels warmer, though, Myungsoo muses when Baekhyun shifts a little. "Whoops, go back. I like that one. The one with–" Closer, even closer, then– "Yep, that one."

Myungsoo socks Baekhyun in the stomach with his elbow. Baekhyun lets out a hearty laugh but keeps saying, "What? I like candid shots! The one where I'm making a weird, goofy face looks good!" To the untrained eye, maybe it will seem like Baekhyun's just really fucking clingy and fond of sharing warmth with other people, but, Jesus Christ, it definitely doesn't feel like it, not with the tent in Baekhyun's pants brushing against Myungsoo's back and Baekhyun playing with the waistband of Myungsoo's pants with his fingers.

"Baekhyun, if hyung sees this–"

"He won't," Baekhyun answers at once. Waves at Sehun and Jongin carrying the lights and saying their goodbyes. He even throws Jongin a sloppy flying kiss to make up for him outing Jongin earlier. "He went to the van to take a few calls. I checked."

Myungsoo exhales. Baekhyun shifts again, lips so dangerously close to Myungsoo's neck. "And the others?"

"Too busy packing up, cleaning up after my shit." Myungsoo twists his elbow in Baekhyun's stomach this time. Baekhyun groans. "Hey, I thought you liked me! Your display of affection is so brutal!"

"I'm brutal. This love isn't," Myungsoo mumbles. He looks around them. The stylists are headed back to the van. Tiffany and Jinri are deep in conversation but he can see Jinri throwing them an occasional glance. And they're out in the open. The production tent has already been collapsed. The sun is setting but there's still enough light to illuminate their pressed bodies, the tight fit of their limbs. If Baekhyun's fans caught any of this on film or camera then Baekhyun would be in deep trouble. If the management saw proof even before Sunggyu could do damage control then Baekhyun could potentially be reprimanded. SM could pull him out of the roster at the blink of an eye, postpone his debut. And by then Baekhyun would be as ripe as any old fruit – sweet, yes, but unattractive. That's the harsh reality of the entertainment industry: you're only so attractive until a certain age. And you can only be so lucky with life.

Baekhyun's hold on his loosens a little. He pulls away, about an inch of space between them, but his hands are still on Myungsoo's waist. His hands are trembling.

"Wow. Love." Baekhyun gulps hard, loud enough for Myungsoo to hear. He laughs a little. "Strong word."

Myungsoo turns around, facing Baekhyun this time. There's a good twelve inches between them. Twelve long inches, the farthest that they've been from each other on all times that they've collided. Baekhyun's always been hungry for heat, for contact, for a touch less impersonal than that of a stylist's and a bit more intimate than that of a fan's. And Myungsoo doesn't mind the lack of breathing space so much. They're a nice fit. But then the harsh reality slaps them on the face – Sunggyu calling their names as he screams, at the top of his voice, "Our van's going back to SM in a bit. Hurry up!" Baekhyun's body giving a tiny jerk like everything's just caught up to him – the fact that there are ten, fifteen people waiting for them a few meters away, the fact that they're in open space and that they've just finished a photoshoot. Who they are: Baekhyun, the SM idol, debuting in three months or less. Myungsoo, the photographer who'd signed a contract with SM despite knowing that, in some ways, he'd signed himself up for trouble by attempting to capture Baekhyun's best smile.

Myungsoo cranes his neck and yells back at Sunggyu, "We'll be there! Five minutes!" To Baekhyun, he asks, "You don't like it?"

Baekhyun drops his gaze to his feet, to where they're linked through the press of their shoes against each other. He's worrying his bottom lip. He isn't smiling. Baekhyun's pretty good at bluffing but this looks nothing like it. His cheeks are tense, his lips are pressed together, his eyebrow are in a straight line. This isn't one of those templated SM faces – this is Baekhyun's own, one he wears when he doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to say. When he's too caught up in the turmoil inside him to even articulate what he's feeling or even make a tiny sound.

Myungsoo's stomach lurches. His chest feels heavy; his throat, oddly tight.

"I... I'm sorry, it was an accident–" Myungsoo laughs a little. It comes out hoarse, too breathy, almost like he's croaking out sound. He remembers one of Sunggyu's pieces of advice before, that in times of doubt one should just laugh his worries away. But Baekhyun still isn't looking up. Maybe he'd judged wrongly, moved too fast. Unknowingly skipped Baekhyun's turn in the game and moved his piece on the board even before Baekhyun could grab his pawn. Took a photo of Baekhyun even before Baekhyun could cover his zits with BB cream or– "I... Look, if it bothers you then you can just forget I said it and we can go back to our normal selves and–"

Baekhyun shakes his head, just light enough to make his hair bounce a little. His bangs fall to his eyes. He looks so small now, shrunk by the darkness slowly swallowing them. The sun's almost fully set by now. But Baekhyun is still glowing. "No, I– I like it. I love it. It's just that–" He lets out a long exhale. Then he bites the inside of his cheek and looks up, really looks up now, and meets Myungsoo's gaze. The sparkle is still there in the mischievous glint of his eyes, in the way he twists his mouth before continuing, "I'm an idol."

Myungsoo gulps hard. Of course. Dreams always come first. His throat goes dry even more. "Right. You're an idol," he says, chucking. It comes out rougher than he'd liked. "And there are rules that you should follow to keep your career alive–"

"But I really like–" Baekhyun lips remain parted. They look so red and inviting. The orange light softens the hard angles of Baekhyun's features. It makes him look less lethal, more heart-breaking. Beautiful, just the same. "I like talking to you. I like spending time with you. I like holding your hand and hugging you and waking up to your pretty face and– I... like... kissing you..." His words are more spaced out now, the syllables tumbling from his lips, each two, three seconds apart. He breathes the last few words out, like a knot has finally been loosened and is set to come off completely.

Don't say it, Myungsoo wants to blurt out. If you say it then there's no turning back and we will never be able to undo this and–

"I... love you," Baekhyun says, voice so soft he could've just been breathing. He reaches for Myungsoo's hands, not even looking around. Just plays with it, tracing swirls on Myungsoo's palms like he means to write the rest of his feelings down on Myungsoo's skin. Every touch stings, but it's a beautiful kind of burn. It hurts a little, somewhere in the last few inches of hollow space in Myungsoo's chest, the part of him that Baekhyun hasn't conquered yet. "And I know you feel the same way, Myungsoo, I know you do. Maybe you just haven't realized it yet but–"

Myungsoo gulps hard, takes a deep, shaky breath. His fingers have turned icy cold in Baekhyun's hands. Baekhyun isn't deterred, though. If anything, Baekhyun grips them even tighter, pulls Myungsoo even closer. The orange light fades into a deep shade of black, shadows growing thick around them. He can tell Baekhyun the truth right here, right now, but what gives? They're three months away from Baekhyun's debut stage. Baekhyun has poured his heart and soul into all those months of preparation. This is Baekhyun's dream. He can't give this up, not for the sake of a relationship that might end up a tragedy eventually.

But there's a tiny voice inside Myungsoo screaming at the back of his head, saying, pick me. Choose me. Let me make you happy.

He bites his bottom lip hard, then answers, "But you're an idol."

"Well, fuck being an idol," Baekhyun says, scoffing.

It could be so easy to just walk away from this whole idol thing. He has enough money saved up from his five years in Red Balloon to keep him alive for the next few months. He has enough money from his freelance work to last him a couple of years. They can run away if they want to. But that's not how it works, another voice in Myungsoo's mind says. Some stories don't end happily. Some don't end at all, just go on and on into a downward spiral until both characters just give up.

"We... can make this work," Myungsoo whispers. He lifts his gaze, meeting Baekhyun in the eye. "We can find a way to make this work if you want to."

And then night settles, a familiar blanket of darkness enveloping them.

"I want you," Baekhyun whispers right back. The lighting here is dim, but it's enough for Myungsoo to see the contours of Baekhyun's face, the light furrow of Baekhyun's eyebrows. Baekhyun is looking up at him like everything, like his life depended on whatever Myungsoo has to say. The crew has dissolved into specks of white in the background, a few feet away. Myungsoo can't hear anything beyond the echoing of Baekhyun's voice in his ears, can't feel anything beyond Baekhyun's loud, thumping pulse in the link of their hands. "I know it sounds selfish but I want you and I want to sing in front of everyone, as well. Can't I– Can't I just have everything for once? It's not too much to ask, right? I make it to the top at the age of twenty-nine and I finally meet someone like you and–" He laughs, shaking his head. The last word gets caught in a tiny whimper, lodged at the back of Baekhyun's throat. Myungsoo wants to reach over, pull Baekhyun close, kiss that frown away and– "I just want to be happy."

"We'll make it work. We'll find a way," Myungsoo assures him. His voice cracks somewhere in the middle, though, but he tries to swallow that down, tries to fight the other voices in his head that are telling him that they're asking for the impossible. You're being silly. You're just setting yourself up for disappointment, Myungsoo. You never learn– He looks around for a while, then brushes his knuckles against Baekhyun's cheeks. Baekhyun lets out a low hum, a light chuckle. The tightness in his cheeks eases. "Now, smile for me. C'mon, give me a big smile now, just like the one you did for the shoot."

A soft sliver of laughter spills from Baekhyun's lips. It's sweeter than the previous. Still rough in some parts, but it sounds a bit more Baekhyun now, like he's finally found his voice again but he's still getting used to how it feels in his throat. "I told you, I can't do that at will. It looks and feels weird. It makes me look like some weird anime character–"

"It's beautiful," Myungsoo whispers. He looks at either side of him one more time, then gives Baekhyun's cheek a light pinch. "I think it's lovely and I love it. I–"

Baekhyun looks up at him. His eyes are searching, discerning. He tilts his head a little. He isn't wearing the scarf that covers all the scars on his neck anymore. The nail scratch and the insect bite and the bright red mark on the underside of his jaw blood a thick shade of red. Myungsoo can see them all now, flaunted in the pale moonlight for him to marvel at. And his chest constricts. He wants to map out the blooming red on Baekhyun's skin, wants to trace them with his fingers or his mouth or his tongue until Baekhyun gives into his request and erupts into a lovely peal of laughter – soft at first, then loud and overwhelming. Consuming. And he wants Baekhyun. He wants nothing more than to pull him close right now, to cup his cheeks with his hands and the vibrations of Baekhyun's humming in his palms.

But they're outside and there are ten, twenty, more than fifty pairs of eyes that can see them. One wrong more, and the show's over. One wrong flick of the knob and the light will overwhelm the picture, washing them out.

So he takes a deep breath and settles for this – the link of their hands, the feeling of their pulses moving to the same beat. The words finally coming to him, crawling up his throat and jumping right out of his chest.

"And I love you," he whispers. Baekhyun lets out a tiny whimper. "So please, Baekhyunnie, smile for me. C'mon, it shouldn't be too hard."

Baekhyun makes a tiny gurgling sound at the back of his throat, then he's jabbing Myungsoo in the gut, twisting his fist in the material of Myungsoo's shirt. And he's smiling. It's a slow upward pull at the corners of his mouth, his lips falling open until Myungsoo can see bright white teeth. And he's laughing, just faint bursts of laughter that fade into silence after a while because, "I don't even know why I'm laughing. I just know I look weird when I smile this way and it really feels wrong and–"

Myungsoo shakes his head and leans in until their foreheads touch. The contact burns a little, just enough to melt away the last few dregs of the cold weather in his body. Baekhyun lets out a tiny gasp, a faint 'you can't just lean in and expect me not to kiss you', and then a whimper. "If you don't pull away now, I swear to God, you'll make me something do I'll regret," Baekhyun says one more time, more as a joke than a threat. So Myungsoo holds onto Baekhyun a little longer, taking in the finest details and committing them to memory, a photograph at the back of his mind: the fit of their hands, Baekhyun's breath on his skin, and wicked smile still pulling up at the corners of Baekhyun's lips, all for him.

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