rustle | infinite/exo: there's only one chance to take a picture (3/5)

He doesn't. It's been six days and he's already finished a photography project and a magazine layout somewhere in between and he still gets the feeling that he's being watched even if he's working alone in the room late at night. He's already gone to the convenience store nearby to restock his fridge and cupboards but he still hasn't forgotten. There's still the ghost of Baekhyun's smile whenever he squints and shields his eyes from the studio lights. There's still the shadow of Baekhyun's hands on his skin when he looks at himself in the mirror in the morning, while preparing for his freelance work. And he can still feel the sting of Baekhyun's touch in the dead of the night, just before he goes to sleep. It keeps him awake until obscene hours in the morning, when all he can think of is waking up at five in the morning to a call from a familiar number.

And sometimes he gets this insane urge to text Baekhyun, ask about practice or if he's found another way to reinvent a song. But the reality is that there's no reason to text Baekhyun. They don't have a shoot tomorrow and they'd already picked out the pictures they'll be using for the final material on the day of the shoot itself. The person he has to get in touch with and send the photos to is Sunggyu, not Baekhyun. Phase one of the Byun Baekhyun project is over and it isn't until four weeks after that they'll meet again for the winter shoot. Only then will he have a reason to talk to Baekhyun, seek him out, find a way to make him wear that bright smile of his that he keeps hiding behind his hand.

It's for your own good, he tells himself, convinces himself. He can't keep falling for the same trap. He's twenty-eight; he should know better. He's old enough to know when he's signing himself up for trouble, and Byun Baekhyun is nothing but trouble in every shape and form.

He takes a deep breath. On his message thread with Sunggyu, he types, sending u the files, hyung. let me know if anything needs to be fixed. He checks the email one last time, though, to make sure he pasted the correct link in the body of the email and to double-check the message for any errors. He made the mistake of emailing Howon a link to an analysis of a particular Pokemon credited under his name instead of a link to his stock photo resource of choice a couple of years ago. Howon wouldn't stop calling him by his username – 'level20pokemongod, really? Why can't you fawn over another Pokemon? Why does it have to be Magikarp?' – for days, weeks. Months, even. Until now, Howon teases him about it and even uses that knowledge to his advantage when he has a favor to ask from Myungsoo. He calls it blackmail; Howon calls it playing his cards well.

With a deep breath and one final look at the email, he clicks the 'send' button. He leans back in his seat and throws his head back against the wall. A shiver crawls down his spine, numbing him a little and making him seethe. It's already a little past five in the afternoon and he's been working since his ass found a nice fit in his chair. That was at ten in the evening the night before. Suddenly it's normal again, staying up late or even the whole night to complete projects. At least he's not dealing with stupid clients with outrageous expectations this time.

Outlook gives off a whopping sound, telling him that the message has been successfully sent. He reaches for his phone and types, it's password protected, hyung, don't worry. no one will be able to check the files even if it's in the cloud.

tnx! got your email in my inbox. will check after the mtg brb, Sunggyu texts right back. It doesn't feel as if he's in a meeting, not with his quick replies, but then Sunggyu's always been good at multi-tasking. Myungsoo shrugs, moving closer to his laptop to pull up an iTunes playlist to relax his mind, when another message comes in. baekhyun's asking for a hi-res of the one where he's leaning against the wall btw. says he needs it for his laptop's wallpaper. don't ask me why. could you send him a copy? '2880x1800px if it's ok tnx hyung' --> that's what he said. who even has a screen that big?

layout artists, hyung, sometimes even photographers like me, Myungsoo types in response, laughing a little. Is this one of your tricks again, Myungsoo wants to ask Baekhyun, but that's not part of the contract. So in Baekhyun's window, he types, may i have your email address, please?

He shivers a little. too formal too formal!!, Baekhyun texts back, and he can't help but echo the thought. The last time he'd typed that sentence in a text was when he was still with Red Balloon, slaving his ass over hair care brands and Twister Fries. A few seconds after, another message comes in, from Baekhyun yet again. beullingbaek@yahoo.co.kr hi-res jpeg format pls :D i use the same id for my line so if u want to add me then go ahead :D

So do you want to talk about it, Myungsoo almost types. He doesn't. Instead, he lays his phone face down on the table and doesn't flip it over until minutes after, until he's done cropping the image to a 2880 x 1800-pixel artwork. He attaches it to his mail, types Baekhyun's address in the 'to' field. That email address will be valuable information someday, he muses, when Baekhyun finally debuts and makes it big in the entertainment industry. Maybe he should print the email trail and have Baekhyun sign it with a marker, complete with dedication. Then he can have that framed and sell it in big auctions. He'll make buckets of money from that. Then Baekhyun will probably kick him in the balls and say, in a tone that sounds more amused than mad, 'I feel so used!'

His cursor hovers the 'send' button. The body of the email looks sad, too empty without anything but his signature at the footer. So he types a quick :D in the body, then uses Resized picture as his subject header before clicking the button.

sent, he texts Baekhyun. He catches sight of the username up there, in Baekhyun's text bubble, glaring at him as if it wants to get noticed. He dismisses it, locking his phone as soon as the message goes through, then taps on the black screen with a nail. It shouldn't mean anything, adding Baekhyun on a mobile messenger that's almost like your usual text application, but his fingers are stiff and his phone suddenly feels too heavy in his hands. It's just a username, Myungsoo. Get over it, he tells himself, but his body pulls off one last act of betrayal, making his stomach lurch and his toes curl.

kekeke thanks! :D whats ur handle on line? it's easier to text there. OR MORE FUN yeah. been asking hyung 4 it but he wont tell. says ur not the type to give it away so easily so i shld just ask u personally and thats what im doing now :D

"I didn't need to hear all that," Myungsoo whispers. He folds his arms on his desk and lets his face fall forward, forehead thunking against the bones of his arms. He's been working on the photos the whole day, cleaning the tiny strands of hair popping from Baekhyun's gelled up hair and liquifying his cheeks, pulling them up even more so that his smile looks more genuine, less idol-looking and more natural. Only then was he able to catch the uneven dip of Baekhyun's mouth, the tiny cracks on Baekhyun's bottom lip that even lip balm and make up couldn't hide. And then he found himself staring for a good five, seven minutes, just wondering how it would feel to trace the shape of Baekhyun's mouth with his thumb.

He takes a deep breath. He's running on two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee. He's emptied out tray of chips twice – those were his only meals of the day. He's tired. When he moved on from that picture to color-correct Baekhyun's other photo, he made a decision to not succumb to the allure of his thoughts. He resolved to himself to not fall prey to the traitorous sting of Baekhyun's hands on his skin. Don't give in, a voice at the back of his mind says, but all the other voices are saying give up, give it a shot, it's just a username, Myungsoo, come on–

His phone beeps again, shrill and persistent. "Much like the texter," Myungsoo mumbles, then snorts when he sees Baekhyun's message. r u kmmyungsooo @ line or is that someone else? bcoz the display picture is just plain white and i don't think ppl are supposed 2 luk like a blank canvas u know what im saying?

He stares at the screen a little longer before taking a deep breath. yea that's me, he types. His thumb hovers the comma button, contemplating saying more. He doesn't. Instead, he just adds a smiley at the end of the message and sends it even before he can think of erasing the whole thing and overthinking the damned text.

heh great, gonna add u. can't just go adding random people. uknow, celeb stuff kekeke, Baekhyun texts in reply. Then a Line notification comes in, saying that he's been added to a certain 'beulling beulling baekhyun's friends list via username. He clicks it and returns the favor, clicking the add button without a second thought.

Then he sees it, the photo Baekhyun is using, the same photo that Myungsoo sent him just minutes and a few quick breaths ago. Another message comes, this time on Line. change ur pic to something that has ur face!! cmon ur cute dont be afraid to plaster ur picture in a mobile messenger. promise i wont keep a copy on my phone ;)

Trouble, a voice at the back of his mind says. Byun Baekhyun is trouble. Still, Myungsoo finds himself changing his display picture to the most recent photo of himself that he has – a photo Sunggyu took back when they were in college, on their first and only hike to Seoraksan without Woohyun.

ミ☆

There are a couple of pros and cons to adding Baekhyun on Line. On the list of pros, in no particular order: Baekhyun and Sunggyu are a package deal, which means less text credits spent on texting Sunggyu and Myungsoo being able to maximize his unlimited data package because he messages and calls Sunggyu via Line now. Howon replies to Line messages quicker, for some weird reason, which means faster communication when they're talking about the freelance project they're collaborating on. Just a week ago, Howon got him in touch with one of their clients from their Red Balloon days and got him a new project. It's a total rebranding of a big brand this time, and he has 'free reign' on how the visuals will be executed. That roughly translates to him trying to make the client's weird and outrageous ideas work and trying to make ends meet, but its better than nothing and just staring at an empty canvas on Photoshop. He's getting paid a pretty good sum for it. It will look good on his portfolio and will give his credentials a boost. And Jang Dongwoo isn't such an asshole of a boss. The best part? He replies to Myungsoo's Line messages that are mostly follow ups on feedback on the design and sends Myungsoo free sticker packs. All is good.

On the list of cons, however: Line having a desktop application means he can't always choke up late replies to 'having poor typing skills on my phone'. Sunggyu uses their Line chat as a Snapchat alternative, sending him pictures of all the food he's been eating and the sweets Myungsoo wants to eat but can't because his blood sugar levels are high. Baekhyun messages him at obscene hours in the morning about anything that comes to mind. Once, Baekhyun started talking to him about looking for the most interesting cactus in all of Korea at nine in the morning and somehow ended up talking about seeing fireworks in another country with his family at one in the morning the following day.

fuck that's the 5th time i had to retype stuff ugh im so sleepy, Baekhyun says, then sends a sticker of a panda drooling. He doesn't stop, though, sends Myungsoo a message that says, hmm maybe sydney's a good idea... the new year hits there earlier than the rest of the world right?? sounds pretty amazing keke

it does. go to bed, baekhyun, Myungsoo texts him. Outside, the wind blows, rapping against his windows. The weather forecast a few hours ago said that tomorrow – today, goddammit, since it's already half past one in the morning – is the coldest day of the month. His body clock's so screwed up and it's not even because of work. That's the only thing that's wrong, though – everything else about him is functioning well. He doesn't feel as if his nose is about to crack because of the cold, doesn't feel as if his own fingers are made of ice. He doesn't even have his blankets wrapped himself. They're pooled at his feet. He's hugging a giant Pikachu stuffed toy to his chest. He's leaning against his Snorlax pillow and typing away in the tiny message window in his phone, fingers moving faster than back when he was still convinced that text messaging was a chore. It doesn't feel so cold, even if the temperature just beyond his window is at minus two and he can see nothing but an expanse of white outside. Baekhyun's sunny texts at this late hour makes the room much warmer.

Or maybe it's because the building admin finally got his heating system fixed earlier. That could also be a reason. Laughing a little, he reaches for his blankets and pulls them up all the way to his shoulders.

not yet sleepy. im talking 2 u, Baekhyun replies. Myungsoo rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He sends him a sticker of a bunny squinting her eyes. Baekhyun sends him a sticker of the white blob character winking and doing a peace sign at the same time. Myungsoo only laughs and tells Baekhyun again to go to bed, get some rest, it will be a long day tomorrow. Make sure to wear socks because old people get cold easily, even if Baekhyun makes it so easy to feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

ur exceptionally cute when ur concerned, Baekhyun texts. He sends a large heart sticker, then says, u get some sleep 2 ok? stop working. u still have work 2moro and ur working for me. OH SHIT WAIT I MEAN LATER HRS FROM NOW

Glad to know you're just as fucked up as I am, Myungsoo wants to say, but lethargy has gotten the better of him and he's weak – too weak to actually type that long sentence in Baekhyun's Line chat, too much of a coward to be completely honest with himself and other people around him. He's only known Baekhyun for, what, two, three months? He hadn't given in to Woohyun's sweet words until they'd been friends for half a year. It's too early. It can't be this easy.

Three more months, a voice at the back of his mind says. He shuns that away, shushes his own voice. On the message window, he types, lol yeah get some sleep, kid. you're not making sense anymore. we'll talk later.

not a kid, is Baekhyun's immediate reply. A heartbeat, then, looking forward to seeing you :) good night kim myungsoo. sweet dreams :)

Myungsoo takes a deep breath and throws his covers overhead, as if it would do anything to wipe the silly look on his face, the violent upward tug on the corners of his mouth, the loud thumping in his chest. There's still an unanswered message flashing on his phone, a person on the other end of the line waiting for his reply. But then Baekhyun might have already fallen asleep and succumbed to the allure of sleep. He might have shut his phone as soon as he sent that message. Heck, he might have even typed that message half-asleep. So Myungsoo stares at the message a little longer, reads it again and again until he can process everything in his very hazy mind: Baekhyun had used his fully name. He was using smileys instead of stickers. And he'd spelled out his words, didn't use any contractions or shortcuts that would make typing easier and much faster.

It's still the same old Baekhyun, though, and if he tries hard enough he'll be able to hear Baekhyun saying the exact message in his ears. Baekhyun would hum and sing thoe words like they were his own song. He'd muffle his laughter with the press of his hand to his mouth. Then his cheeks would burn the brightest, most interesting shade of red. And Myungsoo would just sit back to marvel at the whole thing, resisting the urge to snap a photo of that moment right then and there because Baekhyun hates it when a camera is being shoved into his face instead of it being the other way around.

you too. sweet dreams, he replies after a while. it takes him a full minute to even out his breathing and slip his phone under his pillow. It takes him another to slip into a peaceful state of slumber. And it takes him three, four hours to wake up feeling refreshed, recharged, ready to tackle the new day unfolding in front of him.

When he checks his phone, a sticker of the white blob with sparkly eyes and flushed cheeks greets him. It does look like Baekhyun, looks a lot like him when he's too excited and eager to get things done. It's also the same look that surfaces on his features when the light hits him just so, setting him aglow. So Myungsoo repays Baekhyun in kind, sends him a sticker of the blond guy flashing two thumbs up and cheering him on.

He doesn't send Baekhyun the hugging sticker where his thumb hovers. Instead, he locks his phone and gets up, promising to himself, this will be a good day.

ミ☆

Myungsoo makes a stopover at Hongdae to meet up with Dongwoo and get some paperwork done. "Always a pleasure to do business with you," he tells Dongwoo once the latter hands him a sealed envelope in exchange for the DVD he'd copied the files to on the spot. It's the fastest he's been able to receive payment for a project and the fastest he's gotten approval for his designs, too. Dongwoo knows what he wants and has the equity of the brand he's handling memorized like the back of his hand. And he knows exactly how he wants to communicate that in visuals, unlike other clients who'd say that they'll 'know what they want when they see it.'

"Hoya was surprised when I told him I was meeting up with you today," Dongwoo mentions. He takes a sip of his coffee that looks 70% chocolate than anything else and takes a deep breath. His choice of coffee doesn't seem like something a country media manager would drink, but then Dongwoo is different from most people. "I said you were running the final designs by me one last time then I'll already hand you the check. Then he laughed and said that you'd be thrilled because – I quote – 'we've never had a client like you'. So I was just, 'dude, you two have been dealing with a bunch of assholes. Not all clients are bad.' Then he said, 'well, they are assholes. How d'you feel about Soo and I working on your other brands?'"

Dongwoo finishes with a big smile, one that reaches the corners of his eyes and makes them crinkle. He's the one who looks thrilled, like he'll burst into a fit of giggles no matter what Myungsoo says. And he looks as if he's expecting something. He's drumming his fingers on the wooden table to a familiar melody and he's humming under his breath, his head swaying from side to side. Slowly, he cocks an eyebrow, and that's when Myungsoo leans back.

What do you want me to ask, he wants to say. Dongwoo's the one handling the company, not the other way around. He's the one calling the shots and Myungsoo's just a freelancer whose sanity and salary depend on how good his clients are. Myungsoo doesn't have a say in this, probably shouldn't have a say in the matter, but with the way Dongwoo is looking at him and pushing the plate of untouched croissant in his direction it looks as if he's handing the trigger for the shutter release to Myungsoo and telling him, 'Anytime you're ready, director. Just click the button if you feel that the time is right–'

"Will you be needing help on rebranding the other personal care brands in your portfolio?" Myungsoo asks after a while. The smile on Dongwoo's lips grows, pries his lips open until he's wearing the same big smile that he'd punctuated his sentence with earlier.

He takes a snap of that, files it to the back of his mind for future reference. Maybe he'll find a use for it sometime, when he needs to guide people on how to smile with their entire body. He takes a deep breath. "I mean, we'll be glad to work with you again, if you ever need help on branding and rebranding," he adds. "It will be an honor."

"Okay, then. Let me rephrase my question," Dongwoo says. He shifts in his seat and fixes his tie, like he's writing a contract with the tilt of his chin and the way he pulls his shoulders back, sitting straight. "We're working on a mass rebranding for the entire portfolio. All our products, from the diapers to the napkins and even the detergents. It's for our 75th anniversary." He takes another sip of his drink. Some of the foam catches on his top lip and– Oh, he's already licking it off. He's not offering Myungsoo a contract; he's extending his hand in Myungsoo's direction and asking for help. "Will you please do us the honor of getting our shit sorted and working on the rebranding with us?"

Myungsoo laughs a little. It almost sounds like a proposal, like Dongwoo's trying to win his heart or loyalty or something of that sort. Or maybe this is life's way of telling him that see, Myungsoo, not all employers are as bad as your bosses in your old job. Have a bit more faith in humanity. Don't think ill of them right away because not everyone will take advantage of you. Still, it takes a while to digest – Dongwoo's giving him a choice, offering him something that only someone stupid would refuse. He can easily ask Dongwoo for time to process things, but the last time he did it, he made the mistake of reading too much into every single detail and overthinking everything.

And the last time he followed his gut feel and said 'yes' was when he took Sunggyu's offer. It was so spontaneous – Sunggyu was to alight the van and Myungsoo caught the sight of Baekhyun's sleeping figure out of the corner of his eye. A part of him wanted to take a picture of Baekhyun like that, all his defenses down, too vulnerable to those who'd take time to poke fun at him. And the other part of him just wanted to study his face forever, marvel at it, watch the slightest movement of Baekhyun's muscles until he can see Baekhyun at the back of his eyelids – moving, breathing, living in him.

He swallows hard. You'll regret this, logic tells him.

Shut up, he tells logic, and looks up at Dongwoo. The wicked smile on Dongwoo's lips has eased into something more relaxed, more natural. More... understanding, much like the face Sunggyu wears when he knows Myungsoo's bogged down by too many things for him to fathom and all he needs is someone to understand.

"It would be my pleasure," he says, voice too bright and crisp in his ears. It sounds like a different person, someone from the past. Twenty-three-year-old Kim Myungsoo accepting a contract from Red Balloon and signing it with his blood. He's not the same kid he once was, though. He's twenty-eight now, more experienced, wiser. He shouldn't be making the same old mistakes. So he repeats, this time in his own voice, the one he's more familiar with, "I'd be glad to work on your rebranding project but–"

Dongwoo cocks an eyebrow at him. "But?"

"But I've signed a contract with SM as Bae–" As Baekhyun's art director, he almost says. Or Baekhyun's acquaintance whom he seeks feedback from. It doesn't sound professional or as impressive as it truly is. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to grimace at himself. "I've signed a contract with them as an art director. For photography. I'm in charge of their new talent's debut promotions and the contact lasts until he goes up on stage to perform his song." The summer track, but Baekhyun's still lobbying for a back-to-back performance with the spring track. Sunggyu's behind him a hundred percent. "So that's August. Until then, I won't be able to do work with another company full-time. And I... don't want to compromise the output I'll be giving you because my attention will be split. No client, no company deserves that. And no designer should do that, as well."

Dongwoo laughs a little. "You're passionate about your craft. You're so in love with it," he says, voice almost dropping to a whisper. The corners of his lips soften even more, and the arch of his eyebrows relaxes. "I respect and admire you for that. And, well, it also makes me a bit sad since we were hoping to start the rebranding project in April, but I think we can work with Hoya on that first. He... already gave me his yes, but he said to ask you just in case."

That asshole, Myungsoo groans to himself. He'll kick Howon in the balls the next time he sees him. Then give him a hug because this is a huge project, something that can skyrocket their careers to success.

"Did he, really?"

Dongwoo hums. "He did," he answers, then punctuates it with soft laughter. The tight knot in Myungsoo's chest loosens, eases into something less grappling. It's one of those things he feels when Howon's just looking at him instead of urging him to speak up and say whatever's on his mind. It's comfortable. It's comforting. "He told me not to tell you, too, but I think you had the right to know. Besides, he's been recommending you to me for months. When you finally said yes, he was more excited for your project than his own. He's been working on a few things for us for a while already, actually. Something to keep him–"

"Sane," Myungsoo finishes. Howon loves doing tiny passion projects. They keep him up until obscene hours in the morning, but they never feel like work. Myungsoo gets that, the twisted logic behind working so hard on something that makes you happy and not minding losing sleep to get things done. He's been experiencing the same since he quit Red Balloon and started taking one freelance project after another.

And then there's the SM Project. There Byun Baekhyun is with his shy smile and the laughter he pockets in the tiny cup of his hands. There he is with his glimmering eyes and his body that says both everything and nothing about what he's thinking of. He's the perfect idol package – he can sing, he's an okay dancer but he tries hard enough to look like a good one, he has mystery written all over his features and that's the hook. That's what will keep people coming back for more, purchasing one B Y ✩ U N CD after another. And there's trouble written on the curve of his body, the slope of his neck, the dip of his back. It's in the gentle swell of his bottom lip and the way he worries it too much, leaving it a bright and interesting shade of red.

"That's the exact word that he used," Dongwoo tells him. "He looks better now, after he quit his old job." He chuckles. "He looks alive."

Myungsoo nods. It's funny how that one thing that he'd been earning a living out of was the same thing that was eating him up alive and spitting him out whole, all chewed up, just barely breathing. And what's even more hilarious is that now that he has no fixed source of income, he feels more stable than ever, so self-assured and not beaten to a pulp by deadlines. His ego took a beating there, when he was still in production; his belief in himself, even more. Back there in the studio, they were made to believe that there was no higher being than the clients, that whatever those assholes of clients wanted, the had to deliver at all costs even at the expense of their sanity. Hence the passion projects to keep them from wrecking havoc in the workplace, to keep them calm and balanced and not make them rush into heated battles without anything but their fists – their hands that they use to create things – to defend themselves.

"And I heard you're doing much better now, too," Dongwoo adds. "Glad to know I – I mean the company – could help somehow."

"Yeah," Myungsoo says in acknowledgement. He can feel it, the rush of excitement everytime he tackles a new project. The knowledge that he can experiment with things and not always go with tried-and-tested methods tickles his fancy. And then there's the silly kid waiting for him in Gangnam because, 'u cudnt make it to brunch so lunch is cool ryt? there's a nice place 2 blocks away. wear a lot of layers 2day. fucking cold. o yeah can i run an idea by u? need some honest input keke. As simple as that. Sometimes it's these small things that make the most significant difference. It's the smallest, most unassuming people who leave the greatest impact in one's life.

"Your... phone's been buzzing for a while now," Dongwoo mentions after paying for their coffee. He stands up, straightening out his shirt, then asks, "Girlfriend?"

Myungsoo laughs, too sudden and too loud for his liking. So he presses the back of his hand to his lips, trying to push the sound down his throat, trying to swallow down the tiny bubbles of laughter on his lips. It takes him a while to realize what he's doing, only when he sees his reflection on the glass when they exit the coffee shop. He drops his hand to his side, then, balls it in a tight fist and says to Dongwoo, "No, not at all."

Later, on the bus to Gangnam, he pulls out his phone and pulls up his chat with Baekhyun. He thinks of telling him about that incident earlier, the whole copying thing, but decides against it. Friends mimic each other's habits. Friends rub off on each other. There's nothing special about it. If Myungsoo's just as infectious as Baekhyun is then he's sorry; he doesn't mean it. But he knows very well Baekhyun will just laugh at it and brush it off like one of those lame jokes Sunggyu delivers on a daily basis.

on my way, he types in the chat, then sends his message. He locks his phone and slips it back in his pocket. It won't make a difference if he tells Baekhyun about it. It won't make a difference to either of them. Baekhyun's just another guy.

ミ☆

Brunch is at a specialty juk restaurant close to the SM building. It's a small, quaint place, the type that you'd probably overlook if you weren't looking for it. The interiors look great, though – high ceilings, off-white walls, the floor being separated into different levels as if they're layers making up an entire three-tier cake. For a place that looks so small from the outside, the space has been used so effectively. It can house a good twenty, thirty people at a time. It's sort of a marriage of the old and the new Seoul. A typical restaurant you'd see in Gangnam where everyone's craving a bit of the good ol' Seoul, clinging onto that last sliver of history in the midst of all the innovations around them.

They take the table farthest from the entrance and Baekhyun sits opposite him with his back turned to the window. He looks exactly like a celebrity trying to hide from people with his outfit – dark jeans and a white v-neck shirt, and then a blue and orange plaid polo on top. A light cardigan, and then a thick coat that reaches the back of his knees. It has a hood, too, that he wears over his baseball cap. The finishing touch – a mask worn across his lips, saving the world from having to hear him cough his lungs out. If he had sunglasses on then the look would be complete, but then Baekhyun's eyesight is shit in the dark. So instead, he just squints when the sunlight hits him too hard.

The dark circles under his eyes have worsened. He only has a few more months left until debut to be perfect, a little less of the 'dopey trainee' he used to market himself as and more of the idol SM wants him to be. Myungsoo takes a deep breath, sits on his hands, and tries not to lean in. This is the first time they're seeing each other again in weeks; he can't just reach out and expect Baekhyun to lean into the touch and not flinch.

"Fuck the sun, really," Baekhyun groans, then holds his right hand up as he goes through the items in the menu. His nails are long. They make his already slender fingers look even slimmer. Baekhyun babbles about something that sounds a lot like staying up late for practice last night and having to report to work early. The usual idol troubles, except Baekhyun's rough voice makes it sound ten times worse. It makes Myungsoo's insides turn. It makes him want to trap Baekhyun's hands beneath his and just make him stop, breathe. Remind him that he still has time to be human and to be Baekhyun, not the idol whose posters will soon be plastered on every flat surface.

He doesn't. He does lift his hands, though, resting them on his lap for a minute before bringing them to the surface of the table. He ends up bumping the back of his hands into the underside of the table, startling Baekhyun out of his routine-looking review of the menu. He seethes, yowls. Bites the inside of his cheek. If they're really hiding from the curious gazes of Baekhyun's potential fans then Myungsoo's being a shitty accomplice.

"Careful," Baekhyun mumbles. "You don't want to draw too much attention to us." He looks up, pausing when their eyes meet, then cocks an eyebrow at Myungsoo ask if asking, 'Are you alright? Does it hurt anywhere?' Baekhyun just keeps staring, though, doesn't verbalize whatever he means by that searching gaze, the tilt of the head, his eyes settling on the nasty red glow on the back of Myungsoo's hands. Then he removes the mask, dropping it just near his glass of water. His nose is too red, possibly from the cold. There are faint dots of red on his skin. Myungsoo almost laughs to himself. It's nice to know that some things don't change. Also, unsettling. "Though that's hard because you're good-looking. Why aren't you an idol?"

"Because I'm your photographer," Myungsoo says, scoffing, as if it's the most obvious answer. Baekhyun rolls his eyes in response, but fixes his gaze on Myungsoo again, leaning closer with each passing second until Myungsoo doesn't have to squint to make out the pimples on Baekhyun's cheeks anymore. For a moment, he's concerned that Baekhyun could be contagious, but all that registers at the back of Myungsoo's mind right now is that they're outside SM. That Baekhyun is debuting in seven months. He has fans. There might be people around them who'd misinterpret this as– As what?

Clearing his throat, Myungsoo asks, "You take a walk around Gangnam without make up? Is that okay with SM?" He leans back, then, shifting in his seat. He balls his hands into fists. "I'd put on some powder, if I were you. Hyung might get mad if your fans manage to snap a picture of you in–"

"In what? In my plain old face?" Baekhyun snorts, scoffs, coughs. Myungsoo leans in a bit, but Baekhyun raises a hand in front of him as if saying, 'I'm good. I'll live. I'm just coughing, not wailing on the floor.' "It'll be good publicity. I can imagine it now: Byun Baekhyun goes out without make up. 'He's the most candid idol ever. He's just like everyone. He... doesn't try so hard to be perfect and amazing because he already is! I like how down-to-earth he is–'"

"See, that's the very thing that contradicts your whole argument."

"Hey, at least let me finish! As I was saying–" Baekhyun uses that high pitch again, but this time it makes him sound more like he's whining than imitating an entertainment broadcaster's voice. It's the same tone he uses when he lies flat on the floor of the practice room and declares that he's tired. 'Hyung, buy me– No, buy us dinner! Come on, hyung, you've seen the improvement and Myungsoo helped a lot so please–'

"Please just rest your throat," Myungsoo interrupts. He hands Baekhyun a glass of warm water, then says, "You wouldn't want to put all those hours of practice to waste, would you?"

Baekhyun frowns. He just out his bottom lip, then, and takes a sip of the warm water. He takes a bit too much at the first sip, scalding his tongue, but he neither seethes nor groans. He isn't making any sound. Instead, he just fans his burnt, hypersensitive tongue with his hand and downs a quick gulp of iced water even before Myungsoo could keep him from doing so.

"Byun Baekhyun–"

"That's my name," Baekhyun answers, grinning. There it is again, the unrehearsed big smile, so spontaneous that Myungsoo doesn't even see it coming. Hundreds of photographs later and he's sure knows almost every quirk of Baekhyun's mouth now. Still, nothing could have prepared him for this: the way Baekhyun's lips fall open and tug up at the corners until it reaches his eyes, his ears. Until it reaches deep inside him and pulls out every ounce of light that he's containing within him. Nothing could have prepared him for Baekhyun sharing this smile on the first day that they're seeing each other after weeks of just texting and sending each other stickers via Line. Nothing, save for a real warning from the culprit, himself, could have prepared him for the lurching sensation in his stomach and the way Baekhyun finds it so easy to just drop a bomb inside him, set it off without preamble. And nothing could have prepared him for Baekhyun tapping his ankle with the tip of his shoe, for Baekhyun linking their ankles under the table and the heat of Baekhyun's body seeping through the thick material of Myungsoo's pants.

It's your name. It's the name of something indescribable deep inside me. Myungsoo pushes that thought to the back of his mind and says, "I know. I know that very well."

"You better," Baekhyun says, winking. He swipes his tongue along his bottom lip. It's not chapped anymore, but it is a bit more red than the usual. Maybe Baekhyun's been biting down on it more these days, in an effort to contain his nervousness. Or maybe nobody has been telling Baekhyun to stop abusing his pretty lips because he can put them into good use in other ways. "Because pretty soon I'll evolve from SM's tiny Baekhyun to the best thing to hit South Korea since banana milk in tetra bricks."

Myungsoo doesn't see that coming, either, the sizzle of heat that rolls down his abdomen. It's just hunger. The last meal he had was back at home and the last thing he ate was half of the croissant Dongwoo didn't feel like eating anymore. He's just hungry. He needs to eat. They need to place their orders so they can have sumptuous brunch now. It has nothing to do with the way Baekhyun's drawing a line from the link of their ankles and then up to the side of Myungsoo's knee. It has nothing to do with the knowledge that Baekhyun's gross for drawing weird lines with his socked foot on the surface of Myungsoo's pants. And it does not have anything to do with the way Baekhyun shifts in his seat to hike his foot further up.

Goddammit– Myungsoo raises one hand, signaling for the server to come closer. "I'm having seafood juk and he's having nothing but water. Doctor's orders," he says through gritted teeth. Baekhyun only cackles in reply but doesn't pull away. Only when their food arrives – two orders of seafood juk, some mulmandu and a ton of other side dishes – does Baekhyun let him breathe, pulling away from the lock of their ankles and blowing puffs of air into his porridge.

He risks a glance at Baekhyun and finds a nice, pink flush on Baekhyun's cheeks as he peeks at Myungsoo through his bangs. He files this look at the back of his mind, and this one, as well – Baekhyun's eyes widening just a little, his lips parting open into a small 'o', his tiny, tiny mouth curling up at the corners before he presses the back of his hand to them to deprive Myungsoo yet again of the sight of his smile.

Too late, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. It sounds a lot like him. He already has a thousand picture of Baekhyun's grin at the back of his mind, engraved on the back of his eyelids. All the has to do is to close his eyes and Baekhyun – even this image of Baekhyun in his mind – ever the people-pleaser, will do the rest.

ミ☆

The winter shoot sees Baekhyun in a ridiculous bundle of clothes. "This is apt for someone going on a hike, not for someone strolling down the streets or walking along the Han," Myungsoo mumbles when Baekhyun emerges from the dressing room. Sunggyu nods, slow and solemn, his eyebrows furrowed in a tight knot and his mouth caught between a polite smile and, well, one of his more neutral smiles. Sunggyu seems to not be so skilled in frowning; he still needs to practice looking like an asshole. Training starts right now.

So when Sunggyu stands from his seat to raise his concern, Myungsoo only sits back and watches the scene unfold in front of him. Sunggyu asks, "Aren't you overdoing the winter concept? He looks like a coat rack now, not someone who's too cold and won't survive five seconds outside the building without the proper winter gear." Sunggyu rolls his eyes. "We want to see a winter concept, not a winter closet. Come on, ladies, you can do better."

"They could, but they're tired," Baekhyun whispers. These girls were the same people who did the styling for Luna's shoot this morning. It's only normal for them to be worn out from having to work hard at such an early hour. He looks up at them, eyes softening and bottom lip jutting out in a soft pout. Myungsoo wants to punch that look off his face and maybe keep it to himself, for himself. He's yet to complete his catalogue of Baekhyun's expressions; there are some that he's thrown out of the window, those that are too fatal to study for extended periods of time.

One of the stylists groans. Baekhyun smiles up at her with the tight press of his lips and his eyes thinning into slits. She makes him get rid of the furry coat and tosses a nice maroon scarf in his direction, instead. It goes well with the khaki coat that Baekhyun picks from the wardrobe the stylists have prepared for him. Too well, in fact, that Myungsoo finds himself feeling around for his phone, trying to get snap a picture of this look – Baekhyun looking to the side, the lighting set up behind him as his background. The hard angles of his jaw adding nice lines of detail to his features. His hair turning from dark brown to something lighter, a bit golden. It looks like a sick mix of silver and gold and it makes Baekhyun look like a walking ball of sunshine.

"I'll go check the lighting set up," Myungsoo tells Sunggyu, then excuses himself. He turns to his side to give Baekhyun a quick look, and Baekhyun addresses him with the light upward tug on the corner of his mouth.

Cheeky, self-assured kid, he whispers to himself. He swallows hard, trying to ease the tightness in his throat. He only succeeds in choking on his spit. He closes his eyes, then, just trying to ease the tension in his muscles, but Baekhyun is relentless – the image of his smiling face burns at the back of his eyelids, claws Baekhyun-shaped doodles on his eyes so Myungsoo could see nothing but Baekhyun anywhere, everywhere, every single time.

The grind isn't until thirty minutes after, with a few representatives from the management joining them. He meets Kim Joonmyun, the producer in charge of Baekhyun's sound, and another talent by the name of 'Chen'. Chen seems to get along well with Baekhyun, but there's a challenge written in the way they exchange high-fives, in the way Chen says, "You better blow me away, Byun. I'm not about to waste my time here watching some rookie pose for the camera." Baekhyun takes it all in stride, though, shrugging and rolling his eyes, laughing when he can't find anything else to say but, "Whatever, Jongdae. Whatever."

"They go way, way back, if that's what you're wondering," Sunggyu tells him just before the shoot starts. "The Voice of Korea co-finalist. He was in the final three with Baekhyun. Jongdae got a deal with SM, as well, but not the same package as Baekhyun's. But I mean, a contract is a contract. Baekhyun might have signed a longer contract with SM but there's no telling–"

"He will make it big," Myungsoo says, declares. It sounds too serious, even coming from him. It sounds different, but he can hear a hint of himself there, somewhere. So he clears his throat, then adds, "Baekhyun's very passionate about this. If SM really thought that the other guy was better then he'd have let him debut earlier than Baekhyun. Surely, the management hadn't promised a fixed debut date."

By the end of his spiel, Sunggyu already has an eyebrow raised at him. "The 'other guy''s name is Chen. And you're right, SM didn't promise to have them debut at a certain date." He flexes his fingers, bending them back then cracking his knuckles. "And I think SM's planning to get you to shoot Chen's promotional photos, too. No guarantees, but I heard them talking about it a few days back. Just a heads up."

I'm not interested in this Chen guy, he wants to say. He's already got his hands full with Baekhyun, as it is. Then he still has his freelance commitments, projects that he's set to work on with Howon. But it would be stupid to turn down another offer from SM, to turn down an opportunity to make a big name in the photography industry and effect the sort of change that he's aways wanted to see in media and advertising. Most 'picture-takers' these days just take photos of people and things but don't take into consideration the message that the photograph is supposed to communicate. They are just trigger-happy picture-takers without a goal in mind but to just make some art, be cool, et cetera et cetera. The sort of shit that, when recognized as beautiful pieces of art, makes him and Howon cringe and want to throw up.

He's not one of those. He's been advocating tasteful photo direction for years already. He's helped Red Balloon's clients win big awards and establish a good name in the market through his photography, by communicating a message through the best camera angle and knowing exactly when to click the shutter release. He doesn't just snap pictures with reckless abandon; he waits for the perfect moment, holds his breath until he sure he's got the exposure and composition nailed before framing the moment in the viewfinder. And that's the difference – he captures moments and scenes, not just figures against the light. He records lives and immortalizes them through photographs. Not everyone can do that.

SM needs someone like that to make their artists seem, feel like gods. And the truth is that he needs SM to give his career a boost, as well.

"I'll believe it when they talk to me about it," Myungsoo says. He takes a deep breath and digs his hands in his pockets, then turns his back on the topic by walking to the center of the set. Over his shoulder, he can hear Sunggyu's laughter, the one that he's known for years to mean, 'You know, it's possible for good things to come in more than threes to a person. There's nothing wrong with embracing luck and holding it close to your chest. There's nothing wrong about it, at all.'

He snorts. He's too old for happily ever afters, too young to face certain harsh realities. But it's no time to be thinking of these things. There's work to be done. There are photos to be shot. They only have half a day to cross off all the shots in their list so they can get a move on and think of the concept for the next season. So he takes a deep breath and claps his hands in the air, rounding everyone up. "Okay, time to work! Positions, everyone! Crew, I need you on standby!"

He looks to his side and walks over to where Baekhyun and the Chen guy are. They're close, too close, so much that it looks as if there's no gap between them. But there is. From where Myungsoo is, he can see the few good inches between them enough to allow them space to breathe. Proximity's never been much of an issue for Baekhyun, though. He's already looking for heat, craving contact. Surrounding himself with warm things but squinting at the first sign of intense light. Baekhyun is a study in contrasts, on going and offering something new everyday. And as much as Myungsoo is a patient learner, there are just some things that he's more comfortable being certain of – Baekhyun's constant presence beside him, Baekhyun's frame warm in the snug fit of their bodies.

"Break time's over, kid," he says, drawling the last few syllables on purpose when he arrives at his destination. Baekhyun looks up, then, but doesn't quite pull away from Chen just yet. Their fingers are intertwined at the tips, yet there's no strain in their arms, no strain in the way they keep themselves in this link. Myungsoo's stomach turns, lurches, tumbles in several different directions. He feels sick. He feels like throwing up.

"Time to work, Baek. He's looking for you," Myungsoo catches Chen saying. Myungsoo inches closer and addresses Chen with a nod. He has the face of an idol, a smile that can win the hearts of thousands. His voice is soft and playful and tickles Myungsoo's insides. And he's holding Baekhyun's hand like they've always been meant to fit. "Hi. Sorry for keeping your talent from you. As you may already know, he's way too chatty for his own good."

Oh, you know him, he wants to ask, but he bites the inside of his cheek to push the words down his throat. Instead, he answers, "He is. Glad someone else thinks the same." Chen laughs and there it is, the reason he got signed by SM Entertainment. If Baekhyun has a distinct tone then Chen has a bright voice that can make people stop in their tracks and just marvel at him. If Baekhyun's all shy smiles hidden behind his hand then Chen is all bright laughter and big grins that lift the fatigue in his features in the blink of an eye.

He'll make it big, Myungsoo muses. He shifts his gaze, studying the expression on Baekhyun's face. His head is tilted to the side and he's humming. He's waiting for his cue. And he's looking straight at Myungsoo in the eye as if reminding him that, 'We have a shoot. We can't waste time.'

Myungsoo's camera feels too heavy on his own shoulders. He doesn't even have his telephoto lens loaded; he's using his fixed lens. It's supposed to be light. Lighter. His toes aren't supposed to be curling. "Sorry for... having to cut your chit chat," he continues. "I promise to return him in one piece. I just have to borrow him for a few hours."

Baekhyun cocks his eyebrows in response. His lips press together in a thin line before tugging up in a smirk. Beside him, Chen snorts and says, "Oh God, no need. He's all yours. I doubt he'd like to spend time with me, anyway. He hates me."

"I hate your talent and your face. Your cheeks can cut glass," Baekhyun grumbles. Chen only laughs in response and gives Myungsoo a salute before turning on his heel. He stops midway through, though, and reaches over to pinch Baekhyun in his side before running off and disappearing behind the door.

Once the door shuts behind Chen, Baekhyun turns to face from and greets Myungsoo with a small smile. "Hi," he says in a tiny voice, so soft that he could've just been breathing. Myungsoo can read the movement of this lips, though, can see him press the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth to produce a hard 'n' sound that sounds nothing like an exhale. "Hello there, Kim Myungsoo."

"Director Kim Myungsoo," he reminds Baekhyun. Baekhyun jerks back a little, but the glimmer in his eyes hasn't faded yet. He's still smiling. And he has one hand on Myungsoo's hip, the other passive in his side. Myungsoo tries not to shiver. "And hello to you, too."

Baekhyun snorts. His lips are parted just a little, but no sound comes out. Instead, he just stares at Myungsoo, expecting him to – say something? Do something? It's hard to tell. They can complete sentences in Line conversations, when they're eating outside the SM building or shuffled to one cab and forced to ride home together. But here in the SM building where they're reminded of that one afternoon, that time back in the bathroom when there was no one but their own selves in the mirror to witness Baekhyun leave two nasty scars on Myungsoo's skin, they always get stuck at the hi's and hello's. They get stuck in each other's orbit, paths crossing but heavenly bodies never colliding. It's almost normal now, finding Baekhyun glued to his side and just staying there, not saying a thing. It shouldn't be normal. There's probably a song for this, right, something Baekhyun can use to express himself when his own vocabulary fails him? There's got to be at least one song that can translate Baekhyun's thoughts into words.

Sick of the standstill, Myungsoo looks away. He looks over his shoulder then says, "We have a shoot."

Baekhyun's Adam's apple bobs in his throat. His grip on Myungsoo loosens, and soon he's pulling away with an easy smile. "Right. We have a shoot."

We can have something else, Myungsoo muses, wants to say, wants to whisper, but what's the point? Baekhyun doesn't know how to speak. He doesn't know how to question. All he knows for sure is how to hold a camera and communicate emotions through the proper use of exposure, depth of field, focus. All he knows is that they need at least a hundred shots to be able pick out five or seven from this batch that will make the final print. So he walks to where his camera is and grips the body of the camera tight. He boots the camera and adjusts the white balance. There should be a setting here for subjects that burn so brightly that they wash their own selves out. There should be a setting here for photographers who know exactly what they want but don't know how to get it.

He takes a deep breath and looks into the viewfinder. "Okay. Three, two–" When his vision finally adjusts, he sees Baekhyun looking at the lens, staring straight at him.

Something thick and imposing lodges itself in his throat. He tries to swallow it down. Stubborn and stuck, it stays right there, keeping him from breathing properly. Keeping him too aware of Baekhyun's careful, discerning gaze magnified by the lens.

"–and, action!"

ミ☆

"And it's a wrap!"

Myungsoo claps his hands in the air and bows to the crew and the rest of Baekhyun's team. Behind him, he can hear Sehun mumbling something about being really hungry but the photos coming out great. Jongin mentions something about being really sleepy but feeling great about discovering a new combination of studio lights that can set an idol aglow. It's not in the lighting, Myungsoo wants to say. It's in the model, the talent. Baekhyun carries around with him a light of his own that only goes out when he's dead tired and slumped against the glass in the practice room. Or when he's in the van, snoozing fitfully in his seat. Rare are the times when there isn't a glimmer in his eyes, when he loses the enthusiasm he has for working hard and improving himself to be the idol he wants to be. He's that kind of guy – he pushes other people to work hard but pushes himself even more, until he reaches tipping point. And when he does he only ends up doing better than before.

Baekhyun's better at smiling now, at keeping his cheeks from stiffening seven, eight shots into holding a single pose. He doesn't hunch his shoulders anymore, either, keeps his spine straight even when he's resting between takes. "This is my angle, right?" he'd ask from time to time, craning his neck to meet Myungsoo's eyes on the other side of the set, and Myungsoo would nod or flash him two thumbs up or mouth, 'You look good in any angle.'

"Thanks for your hard work," Myungsoo says, giving Sehun and Jongin a pat on the back. He acknowledges the stylists' efforts, as well, telling them that they've outdone themselves after addressing Sunggyu's concern on Baekhyun's atrocious outfit. The make up artists, too, because Baekhyun has this bad habit of rubbing his eyes and smearing his eyeliner even if the make up artists have already sprayed a color setter on him. In the course of a shoot, they have to retouch his make up every five minutes. Baekhyun sweats a lot, moves a lot. He does everything in excess.

Except talk properly, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. He shuns that thought away, swallowing around the tightness in his throat. He helps the crew pack up the lights and mouths at Sunggyu when he manages to catch him, 'Hyung, I'm really hungry'.

"That's what you get for not eating during shoots," Sunggyu tells Myungsoo later, while he slides the tripod inside its case and hands it to the lights crew. Myungsoo gives them a curt nod before turning to his side, meeting Sunggyu's gaze. "Seriously, what's a bite or two or a five-minute break? You keep skipping meals because you work too hard."

"I thought working hard was supposed to be a good thing?"

"It's good when you take breaks from time to time." Sunggyu snarls at him. "You've been like this since–"

Since those dark days when he'd spend hours upon hours locked up in the dark room with Woohyun, developing negatives and something else. He'd be so caught up in their work and caught up in the web of Woohyun's embrace, the press of Woohyun's chest to his back, hot and sticky despite the cold air around them. They'd only exchange a few words because Myungsoo wouldn't want any external factors to affect the development of the film. Then they'd touch each other while they wait for the photos to be developed, for the first sign of an image to surface on the paper. "I always look amazing in your photos," Woohyun would say, then wrap his arms around Myungsoo's waist. And Myungsoo would throw his head back, throw all caution to the wind, and surrender to Woohyun's warm embrace.

He'd never looked at a dark room the same way ever since.

He wasn't able to use a dark room again properly until years after, when he moved to his new place in Ilsandong just a few blocks away from his old house. He tried to relearn old tricks, find himself in the dark again before painting himself in light. It took a while, and at the end of the road were freelance projects, invitations to exhibits. Things in life better than fretting about the past. Work was effective in helping him forget a lot of bad memories. It was one of those few things work was useful for.

He clears his throat and blinks a few times. Sunggyu hadn't been saying anything the whole time, he's positive. Sunggyu's lips are still parted the same way that they were before, poised between the past and the present, like he's thinking twice about blurting things out and fishing an age-old picture from his wallet so they can laugh at it.

"I find it hard to get back in the zone once I step out of it. So I try to stay away from as distractions as much as possible," Myungsoo says. He takes his coat from where it's hanging on the monoblock and slips it on. "Besides, delayed gratification makes eating a more pleasurable experience."

Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him. "No drinks tonight," he mumbles, then tugs on Myungsoo's sleeve. Myungsoo lets himself be dragged out of the set and the SM building, to a samgyupsal place that has become their staple dinner place after long and tiring shoots.

Baekhyun joins them a few minutes after, emerging from the comfort room with a thin layer of make up that might as well be his very own skin. The pimples have subsided considerably now. Maybe Baekhyun's been sleeping better and more, actually taking time out from working too hard to the point of spraining his ankles every few weeks. He's still limping a bit, though, and his eyes are red-rimmed. "No, I haven't been crying," he clarifies when Sunggyu draws circles around his eyes. "I got make up in my eyes. I love Nearly Naked and all but shit, that thing fucking stings in the eyes when you wash it off the wrong way. Took me three washes or something to take all my make up off–"

There's nothing wrong with crying, though, Myungsoo wants to say. It's better to let things out than to keep the all inside, just waiting to burst. He says none of those and, instead, snorts. After a while, he finishes, "Only to apply foundation again. Right."

"Yeah, shit on me some more. That would be nice of you," Baekhyun groans, narrowing his eyes at him. It's hard to tell if Baekhyun's eyes just really ache or he's trying to leer at him, push him away. Either way, Myungsoo doesn't give in, doesn't tear his gaze from Baekhyun's own, just keeps it there where he can see himself reflected in Baekhyun's eyes.

"I can't go around bare-faced now," Baekhyun reasons. Beside Myungsoo, Sunggyu nods then laughs as if an afterthought. It's not supposed to be funny. The idol way of thinking is sick and twisted sometimes. "SM mandate. Must look presentable at all times."

"You look like shit right now, though," Sunggyu argues. He takes a step forward, descending the first flight of stairs leading the exit. "Fix your hair."

Sunggyu walks ahead of them, not stopping in his descent until he reaches the final flight. Baekhyun, meanwhile, still hasn't moved, hasn't even budged an inch. His eyes are bright, glimmering. The dark circles under them are more pronounced than ever, but they don't take away the life in Baekhyun's eyes. This can be a greeting, Myungsoo thinks. This can be Baekhyun's way of saying hello, how are you, I'm not sure if we should talk about it but there's something that we have to talk about. Do you feel me? He does. He can't read Baekhyun just yet, though, not right now, just a few minutes shy of midnight with fatigue pounding at the back of his head without the slightest mercy.

"I can't see myself," Baekhyun mutters, then looks at Myungsoo through the narrow slits of his bangs. "Help?"

You're just fixing his hair, Myungsoo. He's not asking you to fix his life. Don't think too much into it, don't give in– "What if I mess it up even more?"

"You won't," Baekhyun says. Declares, like he's so sure Myungsoo isn't capable of playing a prank on anyone. Myungsoo's tempted to do exactly that. "You're too concerned about my face. You need it to perform your job properly."

"Wanna bet?"

Baekhyun scoffs, rolls his eyes. He hugs coat closer to himself and shivers. "Nah, there's no point. You'll lose whatever happens."

"Asshole," Myungsoo mumbles. Still, he evens out the tousled tuft of hair and combs Baekhyun's hair to the sides.

Late, late dinner is by a food truck. Sunggyu isn't craving soju and Baekhyun still has enough energy to remain on his feet, so they stick close to the food truck and lean back against the walls in between bites. They share two orders of tteokbokki and some odeng. Sunggyu orders bungeoppang to punctuate his dinner because, "My mouth's flaring up, geez." He wheezes, sniffs, shivers when the cool wind blows. His tolerance for cold goes way, way down when he's just finished eating hot food. It's hilarious.

"Pssh. Lightweight," Baekhyun says, then waves at the lady and asks for some odeng broth. To Sunggyu, he says, "Try this, hyung. It might help you get warm again. I mean, it's just soup, not something you have to chew for your stomach to process."

"I need alcohol in my body to make me warm, not soup."

"And you need this broth so that you won't get a hangover after." Baekhyun finishes with a wink, then holds the bowl in front of Sunggyu. "Come on, hyung, it's for your own good!"

Sunggyu groans before taking the bowl in his hands, blowing at the mostly clear liquid before taking a light sip. Baekhyun's face glows with something, a weird sort of light that lifts the fatigue pulling down at the corners of his lips. He moves closer to Sunggyu, rubbing small circles on his back and whispering, "Okay, just a bit mo– Alright, that's great!" like he's talking to a kid, like he's been taking care of people for the longest time. Making sure they're not skipping meals because of work or making sure that his friends are already tucked in bed, wishing them a good night via text.

Baekhyun would be the type to do that. He'd know how to take care of others but be shit at taking care of himself. He'd let his lips dry but keep convincing someone to drink hot soup to warm them up. He'd offer to feed someone before having lunch. And he'd be the type to look over his shoulder, searching Myungsoo's features for a clue of sorts, before saying, "You don't want this, right? Because if you do, I'll just get you a fresh bowl."

Sunggyu kicks him in the calf. "How come we have to share and he gets an entire bowl to himself?"

"Because he's my–" Baekhyun stops midway through, chomping his teeth on air and crushing the cold in his mouth. He gulps hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He presses his lips together. So Myungsoo waits – for Baekhyun to find his words again, for Baekhyun to say exactly what he wants to say how he wants to say it. Somehow, the message gets lost somewhere between his mind and his throat. The sounds get choked down by some force, pushed down Baekhyun's throat never to be unearthed ever again.

Baekhyun's lips quirk up at the corners and his cheeks lift a little. "He did all of the hard work and you almost fell asleep halfway through, hyung," he says after a while. "You don't even deserve a fourth of the soup."

Sunggyu rolls his eyes. "Why did I let you two meet?"

"Because you needed my superior photography skills," Myungsoo answers without batting an eyelash. He doesn't say, because you thought I needed the change in environment, the change in perspective. Because you knew what exactly I needed that time and it was to force myself out of this nasty slump. Beside Sunggyu, Baekhyun laughs a little. "And you needed me to make him look good on camera."

"Whoa there, I'm naturally good-looking. I didn't need your 'superior photography–'" Baekhyun's face falters, nose scrunching and the rest of his face getting really messed up as his eyes thin into slits and his words spill into laughter. He's shaking his head, though, eyebrows now knit but not in distress. His shoulders are still shaking. He still hasn't caught his breath. And Myungsoo's insides are still turning. It's not even because of hunger.

"I though you were on my side, my team!"

I am, Myungsoo wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he says, "I'm on my side." He snatches the bowl of soup from Baekhyun's hands and takes a long sip. The liquid isn't as hot anymore, just the right temperature to be taken in huge amounts and rival the sizzle of heat traveling to his abdomen. It's not enough to still the lurching of his stomach, though. So he takes a deep breath, holds all the air in his lungs in when Baekhyun drops his hands to his sides and reveals that bright smile of his.

His mouth is a peculiar boxy shape, revealing all of his teeth. There's a hint of the gochujang from the tteokbokki at the corners, coloring his lips a bright red. And he's wheezing. He looks as if he's seconds away from falling face-first to the floor and curling up in laughter even if nothing's supposed to be funny. He's tired, drained, silly. Everything would probably be funny to Baekhyun right now. Sunggyu can say one of his lame jokes now and Baekhyun would laugh his ass off after making sure that people aren't watching him, observing him. This is it, Myungsoo muses, this is the same look that he was hoping would melt winter back in their shoot. He kept telling Baekhyun to just relax, "Don't mind the camera. It's just you and me here and you think I'm funny and you're laughing at me silly–" And Baekhyun just snorted, laughed, shook his head.

"You are funny," Baekhyun said then, hours ago, back in the set. It's the same thing he's saying now between chuckles and gasps of air. They're a few blocks away from the building now. None of his fans know he's here. None of his fans can see him and snap pictures of his weird, scrunched up face. And it's midnight. It's half past the hour and they have a half-day shoot tomorrow. Call time is at ten in the morning. If he wants to get to Gangnam thirty minutes before call time then he has to get up seven in the morning, latest. If he wants to get up at such an early hour then a call from Baekhyun would help.

Baekhyun's voice awakens something inside him every single time. It rouses his senses. He asked for the demo of the summer track a few days ago and set it as his alarm. He'd wake up right after the first three lines. Then he'd have the song stuck in his head the whole day even after he's already listened to a new song from a different artist. Baekhyun has already carved a niche for himself inside Myungsoo that it's nigh impossible to get rid of him – the image of his smile, the sound of his voice – in one's system completely.

"Hey, breathe," Myungsoo mumbles, then offers Baekhyun some of his soup. Baekhyun resurfaces and takes the soup, downs it in a huge gulp. There's still laughter bubbling on his lips, though. "Easy, k–"

"Don't say it. You won't be my favorite anymore if you say that word," Baekhyun says, waving the barbecue stick he'd used for his odeng in the air.

Myungsoo laughs a little. His hear gives a tiny gallop in his chest. My favorite, he repeats in his mind. Baekhyun's eyes, fixed on nothing, no one but him say the exact, same thing. "Easy, Baekhyun."

To the thumping in his chest, he says, be still. Don't take sides just yet. Don't give in.

ミ☆

The second and third shooting days see less snow and longer hours. Perfect timing, really, because they're on location and it's hard to set up lights on ground covered by a thick snow. Sehun and Jongin aren't complaining much, grumbling only when they power on the redheads too high that the snow blinds them. Sehun's solution: a blue gel that softens the light and makes it cooler. At least the snow doesn't receive the brunt force of the studio lights anymore. And Baekhyun doesn't have to wear sunglasses at the height of winter out in the streets just to shield his eyes from the harsh light.

"Ah, thank God," Baekhyun says, groaning in relief. He wrinkles his nose, burying it in his scarf for a moment before straightening up. Myungsoo walks over, the rolled up shot list tucked under his arm, and loosens the knot of Baekhyun's scarf. It isn't atrocious, but it does give Baekhyun an escape route for when he wants to hide his smile behind something. And Myungsoo can't afford that. He's been spending hours upon hours trying to capture that smile perfectly and he's not about to give himself an even harder time by allowing Baekhyun to duck to his scarf at the first sign of laughter. "What are you doing? I'm cold!"

"And you're going to ruin your make up if you keep doing that. I told you, the color setter can only do so much." He swats Baekhyun's hand away when Baekhyun attempts to tighten his scarf around his neck. "If you keep doing that, I swear to God, Byun, I'm going to kick your balls."

Baekhyun snorts. "Ooh, I'm so scared. I'm cowering in fear."

Myungsoo looks up from his work and cocks an eyebrow at Baekhyun. Baekhyun slips into a small smile, meeting Myungsoo's gaze with bright eyes. "You're what?"

"I'm a good boy. And I won't fuck up my make up even if I end up dying in the cold."

"And you won't give me a hard time by being difficult," Myungsoo adds. He takes a step back, taking a good look at his handiwork, then smiles a little. "And we'll make this quick so we can play later."

It sounds wrong when taken out of context. They're playing Pokemon later, in the van – that's it, nothing else. Myungsoo promised last night to bring his DS and show Baekhyun all the Pokemon he'd bred and trained for himself on the condition that they finish at least an hour earlier than their expected wrap up time. Baekhyun promised to be on his best behavior. If they end up extending because Baekhyun spends 30% of the shooting time just trying to summon the right smile on his lips then he has to go back to SM to practice. And Myungsoo has to tag along because apparently, he gives good feedback on Baekhyun's dancing. In hindsight, it's not a fair tradeoff. He loses on both counts – loses free time for himself, and loses his sanity in Baekhyun's presence.

"I could introduce you to one of my dancer friends." Howon would have better input. He used to be in the dance troupe back in college, after all. Myungsoo simply watched his shows on tape. "Met him back in my old work. He's a much better dan–"

"No," Baekhyun interrupted, shaking his head. "I don't need to hear what he has to say. I already have you." He kept his eyes locked onto Myungsoo's own the whole time. And Myungsoo tried not to flinch, tried not to shiver under Baekhyun's curious gaze.

He tries to do the same now, when Baekhyun holds onto him longer than he should. He drops his gaze to where his hands are on Baekhyun's chest, the pads of this fingers just barely touching the tips of the scarf. His palm is on Baekhyun's coat and he presses down on the material when he feels a tingle of cold wrap around his knees. His pulse is strong in his palms, loud in the back of his ears. Baekhyun's breathing is shallow. And his lips aren't chapped for once. Then again, his make up has just been retouched. Unless he likes eating his lip balm – it's raspberry today, the flavor he likes least – there's no reason for the cracks on his lips to show.

"Hi," Baekhyun says, a bit breathless. His teeth chatter.

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. Here they go again. "Hello."

They'd gone a whole day yesterday without a conversation filled with nothing but greetings. Baekhyun had been using his words, expressing himself through sentences instead of leaving it up to his limbs to communicate his message. During the first break, Baekhyun slipped next to Myungsoo and asked if they could check the photos on the laptop together. All other seats were taken, so Baekhyun sat on Myungsoo's lap without preamble and wrapped one of Myungsoo's arms around his waist. It was okay, understandable. Baekhyun was tired and wanted to rest his sore feet. And Myungsoo was there, available. Convenient. But then Baekhyun slotted his fingers between Myungsoo's own. Their hands were cold and shaking. Baekhyun's humming had turned into soft giggles when Myungsoo whisper-counted with his lips pressed to the back of Baekhyun's ear. So Myungsoo was left scrolling up and down with his left hand. He had very little control over the left side of his body. Big deal. At least Baekhyun knew what he wanted to happen – "Scroll up and– Oh, that's good. I look great in that one. This whole series, actually. Can you mark that then let's run it by hyung later?" A squeeze of the hand, then, "No one makes me smile quite like you do."

Godfuckingdammit, Byun Baekhyun, Myungsoo remembers himself thinking. His heart was racing in his chest and Baekhyun was leaning back. Their cheeks were pressed together. And they were working They were the only ones in that side of the production tent that time. There was no one around them to question whatever Baekhyun was up to. They were safe.

Myungsoo's mind, however, wasn't.

"I promise–" Baekhyun begins, then clears his throat. He looks around again and takes a few steps forward, dipping his hands inside the pockets of Myungsoo's coat. "To be a good boy today so we can play later."

His mouth curls up at the corners and his eyes twinkle. His shoulders are shaking. It's not from the cold. And Baekhyun is slowly tucking his chin like he means to bury his face in his scarf even before he can start laughing at his own 'joke', but there's nowhere to hide. His scarf is in too loose a loop now that he'll have to bring it close to his face if he wanted to keep people from seeing him laugh, to deprive Myungsoo of his big and bright smile. So he has to make a choice – either he pulls away, takes a step back, and frees his hands from the warm cocoon of Myungsoo's fingers so he can laugh behind the thick material of his coat, or he keeps his hands there, keeps his eyes on Myungsoo, and keeps convincing Myungsoo that he'll be a good boy even if he's breaking the same promise right here, right now.

"Bullshit," Myungsoo whispers. He sticks out his tongue at Baekhyun but regrets it when he feels a fleck of snow land on his tongue. It's too much, too cold. And Baekhyun's beaming at him too brightly that he's stunned, rooted to the same spot with no chance of ever turning back. So he holds on a little longer before pulling away, before turning on his heel and kicking at the ground. They have to work. There are shots to be taken. And Baekhyun's bouncing on the balls of his feet, too bright and too eager to keep his promise and cross off all the shots in today's list so Myungsoo give him a thumbs up. Maybe more.

ミ☆

"Okay, enough with the make up, please," Myungsoo groans. Jinri holds up her index finger in front of him and taps the tip of his nose thrice. "Jinri, I am not going out on a date so please–"

Sunggyu has just finished picking out the shots that they'll be using for the winter concept. There are 600 shots all in all, and from the wide pool Sunggyu has chosen around ten, fifteen shots for editing and a bit of color correction. He'd reminded Myungsoo to lighten Baekhyun's dark circles earlier, saying, "I know Tiffany's done a great job with the make up but he moves too damn much. There's no telling what he'll do to his face and–" Fifteen minutes into the shoot, Baekhyun's make up begins to melt under the pressure of the redheads shining down on him. Twenty minutes after, Tiffany won't be able to resist the urge to raise her hand and walk closer to the set to retouch Baekhyun's make up. There are some things that you just can't easily remedy during production. The good thing is that there's Photoshop to help them out. It's a minor thing, anyway; Myungsoo can lighten the dark circles even with his eyes closed.

But why would he if he's editing Baekhyun's photos, if he gets to study the shape of Baekhyun's mouth and the bridge of his nose and the slope of his neck? "Yeah, try to remove those... scratch marks, oh my God. Has be been scratching his neck– I told him–" And then Baekhyun hid behind Myungsoo, used him as a shield, used that instance as an excuse to slip his arms around Myungsoo's waist and tuck his chin on Myungsoo's shoulder.

"Finally, you stopped moving," Jinri says now, then applies one last thin sheet of BB cream. "You're already gorgeous, I know that, but being a friend of an idol like Baekhyun-oppa means having to be presentable, too. You're SM now. You're one of us." Jinri takes a deep breath and leans back, dropping her hands to Myungsoo's shoulder. She twists her mouth a little then leans in to... maybe even out the make up on Myungsoo's cheek. That's what it feels like, at least. "I know it's silly but you have to be conscious of how you dress and act when you're around Baekhyunnie-oppa now."

Baekhyunnie-oppa. It doesn't sound like an idol's name. It sound like a puppy's name. And Baekhyun's looking over Jinri's shoulder, a corner of his mouth tugging up when he catches Myungsoo's gaze.

"We're not friends," Myungsoo says after a while. When Jinri finally puts the cap of the BB cream back on, he says, "Thank you."

"Well, for two people who aren't friends, you sure are close. Comfortable with each other." Jinri sucks in her bottom lip. "Very comfortable."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. He's never been called out on his friendship with Baekhyun before, not in all the months that he's knows the latter. Sunggyu has never questioned their connection, their level of familiarity with each other, but maybe that's because Sunggyu has always been there to witness their interactions, hear their conversations. He's been with them everytime they went out for dinner, stayed in the SM building too late, has been there everytime they had to wait in the streets of Gangnam for a cab. He's seen the links of their friendship fall into place, lock onto each other and form a strong enough bond to keep Baekhyun coming back for more. And he's seen Myungsoo slowly open up, share bits and pieces of himself with Baekhyun through their conversations.

But Sunggyu hasn't seen them tumble into a cab, hasn't seen them pressed so close together in the dark or in a closed space. In broad daylight and in the harsh studio lights, they are friends, co-workers who may be a bit too comfortable with each other. But in the dark, when shadows pull them together and sometimes keep them apart, they're different people – Baekhyun without his bright laughter and glimmer, but armed with the sweet allure of his soft 'hi's, his feather-light touches. Myungsoo more unsure, more uncertain than before, but more relenting and willing at the slightest brush of Baekhyun's knuckles against his skin.

Myungsoo laughs a little. It comes out more like a croak than anything else. It makes him cringe. "I guess it's because we're of the same age. It's easy to be friendly with your same-aged acquaintances."

Jinri cocks an eyebrow at him, like she means to say more. She doesn't. Instead, she shrugs and gives the tip of his nose a light pinch. "Whatever you say, oppa," she whispers. She evens out the make up on the area she'd just touched, then turns on her heel to leave. "Whatever you say."

Baekhyun takes Jinri's place in front of him, one hand on his waist and the other clutching his phone. The display's lit up, showing one of Baekhyun's message trails. From where Myungsoo is, he can't make out the text, but there's no mistaking the recipient of the messages – there's 'Jongdae' in big, bold characters smack in the top middle of the message header, and a message bubble from Baekhyun, saying, well that shoot was fun c:

"So what exactly did she do to you?" Baekhyun asks now, leaning closer and bending his knees. He's squinting his eyes like it's so difficult to spot the difference, like Jinri really hasn't done much. She has. It's been months since Myungsoo last wore an ample amount of make up that isn't lip balm, years since he last wore more than one layer of BB cream or foundation. So it shouldn't be too hard to see the difference, to be able to spot the lack of pimples on his right cheek and the missing blemish on his left.

Baekhyun traces the curve of Myungsoo's face with his fingers, just two, his nails grazing Myungsoo's skin a little. Myungsoo takes a deep breath. His toes curl. He balls his hands into loose fists. And he feels a trickle of sweat trace the same path that Baekhyun had just drawn on earlier, stopping when it catches on Baekhyun's nail. Baekhyun flicks that off with a light movement of his finger, with a small smile. "I can't see the difference. You look the same."

Myungsoo snorts. Baekhyun has the worst pick up lines, if he's trying to make Myungsoo feel something at all. If he isn't, then he's just really bad at not flirting with everything that breathes. "Don't let her hear you saying that unless you want her to fuck up your make up for the spring shoot."

"Well, I have a month or two to win her heart back if she does overhear–" Baekhyun looks over his shoulder, craning his neck. Jinri had disappeared around the block earlier, a minute ago. Maybe Tiffany grabbed her by the wrist and showed her that thing she's been raving about for hours, since the shoot started. Sunggyu isn't in sight, and neither are Sehun and Jongin. Sensing that they're safe, close to being alone, Baekhyun turns back to Myungsoo, the same sly smile on his lips. "Okay, I'm safe. Really, you look the same. Can't see why she'd like to put make up on your face when there's nothing to hide."

"It's–" Nothing you should be concerned about, Myungsoo wants to say. Jinri was just bothered by the budding pimples on Myungsoo's cheeks. Myungsoo gets it, the insane urge to make things right when all the wrong things are glaring at you, begging to be corrected. That's one of the reasons why he picked up photography – so he could show everyone that there's always something more to what the naked eye sees. So he could direct people's attention to that one thing that's beautiful amidst the chaos.

"It's what?" Baekhyun asks. He's stopped inching closer but, then again, he's only a breath, a decision away. He's close enough that Myungsoo can see the short length of Baekhyun's eye lashes, the way light catches on them. The way they paint shadows on his cheeks, too – now rid of the thick layer of make up that was covering his skin earlier, giving him a different identity, a mask to wear.

"For protection," Myungsoo answers. Protection from the sun, the cold, the sudden heat when he least expects it. A thin layer of protection that can keep Baekhyun from noticing the light pink flush on his cheeks. Baekhyun doesn't pick up the last bit. Instead, he presses his palms flat on Myungsoo's knees. Their foreheads bump a little. "From a lot of things."

"How about people?" Baekhyun asks, humming.

"I don't think so," Myungsoo admits. He takes a deep breath, licks his lips. When Baekhyun drops his gaze to the swell of his lips, Myungsoo closes his eyes.

And then the zipped-up door behind Baekhyun makes a snapping sound. Then noise from outside seeps through the narrow opening even before they hear the first step land on the ground. Then Baekhyun pulls away with a tiny jerk, like everything's caught up to him – the fact that they're in a pop-up tent and that they're supposed to be packing the laptop in front of them already. The whole production crew, ten, fifteen people just beyond the thin sheet of fabric keeping them warm here inside. Sunggyu waiting for them because he's, 'So fucking hungry, I could eat a horse. Or not.' The thick wall of uncertainties between them, broken down to smithereens only when they're alone, when there's either silence or the shadows to shield them from everyone's view.

"We should get going," Myungsoo mumbles, then puts his laptop on standby. Baekhyun nods and helps Myungsoo pack up, unplugging the charger.

Sunggyu walks inside, then, approaching them from behind and giving them a pat on the back. "Just had to make sure you two didn't get so engrossed in looking for the perfect photos," Sunggyu reasons out when he slips next to them. Myungsoo only looks up at him but doesn't retort, doesn't refute the statement. It happens a lot, losing track of time when Baekhyun makes everything slow down. When Baekhyun makes staying not seem like such a bad thing. And this happens a lot, too – the two of them threading their fingers together, Baekhyun holding onto him longer than the usual. So there's nothing special about this. Baekhyun's just looking for someone to hang on to in case his knees give away. It has nothing to do with having to hold back or Baekhyun almost, almost, almost leaning in to kiss him but pulling away just before their lips touch. It has nothing to do with Baekhyun trying to keep Myungsoo close, trying to hold his hand under the thick material of their coats.

Myungsoo drops his gaze to the light link of their fingers and looks up at Baekhyun. Baekhyun's cheeks are flushed and pink. His lips are, too. He's just cold, too cold, so Myungsoo tightens his grip on Baekhyun's hand and doesn't let go even when Sunggyu casts them a long, curious look. Friends hold hands all the time. No big deal.

ミ☆

"You and Baekhyun are getting pretty chummy."

Myungsoo looks up from where he's dissecting the boiled okra on his plate. Three bottles of soju in and he's pretty darn sure the alcohol's gotten better of him. His vision is blurry. His limbs are sore. His temples are pulsating and there's a weird beat drumming at the back of his eyes. And Sunggyu's looking at him with the most serious look when he'd just been laughing earlier. It all seems out of place, even as Myungsoo helps himself to the soju in his shot glass that he'd declined earlier in favor of water.

"He's pretty fun and amusing," Myungsoo answers after a while. He looks up, craning his neck to check if the line for the washroom has gotten shorter. Baekhyun's still in the same place where he'd started. It's been five minutes since he's gotten up and decided to give in to the cries of his bladder. He turns his attention back to Sunggyu, then, and starts drawing figures on the table. His nails are longer than the usual, so when he accidentally drags his nail too hard it sends a nasty sting to every part of him, jolts him awake and out of his state of inebriation. "If you can look past his being annoying, I mean. He can be loud and very stubborn at times, but only during breaks. When he's working, he's focused and pours his heart and soul into whatever he's doing."

"And during breaks, I see you two talking a lot. And I see him sitting on your lap," Sunggyu mutters. He takes a sip of the ice-cold water and seethes when the ice cube makes contact with his teeth. "You think no one sees, Soo? Well, guess what: I do. And I've seen the way you react to everything he does."

Oh yeah? Then tell me, Myungsoo wants to say, but he knows better than to challenge Sunggyu. Not now, he tells himself, don't attack him like this. You're both drunk and tired and maybe too loose-lipped. Nothing good can come out of this. So instead, he says, "He's a very touchy person. I bet he gets that physical with almost everyone he's comfortable with–"

"And he's only comfortable with some – Tiffany, me, you, maybe Jongin because Jongin's nice to everyone who gives him candy," Sunggyu continues. He tilts his head, searching for Myungsoo's gaze. Myungsoo doesn't give it to him yet. There are probably too many things written on his face right now. His mouth might be quirked in a way that gives him away. There might be words scrawled on the corners of his eyes. He needs to sort them into their respective emotions boxes first, make sure that his feelings and thoughts aren't all over the place. He needs to collect himself once and for all. "He tries to be nice to everyone but there are only a handful of people he'd reach out for and hold hands with. And I don't know why and how, Myungsoo, but I can see that you're one of those people."

Myungsoo sets down the glass of water he's been hiding behind and takes a deep breath. "So?"

Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him, leaning back. His head is still tilted a little, and the redness in his eyes has lifted a little. Sunggyu looks more sober now, but he doesn't look any less confused. If anything, he looks like there are voices in his mind screaming questions he can't articulate in his slightly inebriated state. 'What the hell do you mean by that?' is the clearest at the moment.

"So what if we're becoming good friends?" Myungsoo continues. "So what if... So what if we're getting too comfortable? We're of the same age. We have overlapping interests. He knows things about photography that people who aren't passionate won't even have an idea of. And I know this and that about what he's passionate about. I mean, he has questionable taste in coffee but–" He laughs a little, scratches the slope of his neck with a single nail. Maybe Baekhyun's a bit too loud for his own liking, but that only happens when Baekhyun's talking about something he's really excited about or when there are large groups of people surrounding him, expecting him to say something. So what would Baekhyun do? He's supposed to please people, right? Because that's what he's been trained to do. That's what SM has been molding him to become–

Sunggyu slams his hands on the table, just loud enough to startle Myungsoo but not quite enough to get the attention of the other people in the room. His knuckles are pale, white. And they're saying something. 'No mixing play with pleasure, hyung,' Myungsoo wants to say in response, but he's not drunk enough to pull off something like that. So he waits. He waits for Sunggyu to part his lips to speak, for Sunggyu to say what he should've said years ago.

"He's an idol, Myungsoo," Sunggyu says. He takes a deep breath, inhaling noisily through his nose. Myungsoo cranes his neck again. Baekhyun's just one person away from the door. Soon, he'll be done with his business there. And soon, he'll be linking his ankle with Myungsoo's own again under the table, their hands too far away from each other. "And he's debuting in August. That's six months from now and we've been working hard on that. You do remember, right?"

"Of course," Myungsoo answers. He meets Sunggyu's gaze again. Sunggyu's eyebrows are no longer furrowed in confusion, but the tight knot hasn't eased yet. It makes Myungsoo's insides turn. It doesn't feel the way Baekhyun makes his stomach lurch or his toes curl. "He's debuting."

"In six months," Sunggyu reiterates.

"In six months, I know," Myungsoo says through gritted teeth. He loosens his grip on the glass of water in his hands. "He's SM's golden ticket. I get it, I do."

What he means to say is, I know what I'm doing, hyung. I'm aware of where I put my hands or where my gaze lingers. But I don't know what he's doing. Because hasn't it been Baekhyun who's been a mystery all this time? Isn't it Baekhyun who has difficulty articulating himself when he isn't singing or 'dancing'? Isn't it Baekhyun who's been leaning in too close then pulling away at the very last minute? So Myungsoo wants to say, don't ask me if I know what I'm getting myself into, hyung, because I do. Go ask that kid of yours what's going on in his mind. Don't put all the blame on me.

"So?" Sunggyu says, then, leaning closer and finally putting down his glass on the table. There's no hint of the redness in his eyes anymore, no pull of fatigue on his eyebrows or his cheeks. He'd look sober if not for the dusting of pink on his skin, crawling up his neck and settling just under his cheekbones. He wiggles his eyebrows. It's as if he's asking, what happens now? How will you react to whatever Baekhyun is doing? "What will you do now?" He finishes with a loud exhale, bottom lip caught between his teeth. More words pushed down his throat but crawling back up, threatening to fall from his trembling lips.

Myungsoo takes a deep breath and tears his eyes from Sunggyu's focused gaze. He looks to his side, at Baekhyun's figure disappearing as he finally steps inside the bathroom. This is it, he muses. This is his chance. He can leave now and leave a few bills with Sunggyu, still paying for his share of the meal. Then he can stay inside his flat forever and never come out. He can change numbers, change contact details and block Baekhyun on all messaging services available. Stop this thing of theirs, whatever it is, right here, right now. But that's all him. There's no telling what will happen if Baekhyun ups his game and comes forward with a clear definition of what this is. And it's all so silly. This isn't elementary where you can just up and leave and wear a different skin come high school. This is real life.

And he's still under a contract with SM Entertainment. He signed there, at the bottom of the expensive paper. He's just been given his first pay for the autumn shoot. So he can't just leave. It can't be as easy as that.

"I don't know, hyung," he admits. He drops his gaze to the traces of kimchi on his plate and repeats, fainter this time, as if he's just breathing, "I really don't know."

Sunggyu leans back in his seat and pours himself a shot of soju. Pours Myungsoo a generous amount, too, and bumps their glasses together in an attempt to catch Myungsoo's attention. Soon, Baekhyun rejoins them, hovering at the middle of the table for a while, looking at both directions before taking sides. Don't do it, Myungsoo wants to say. Do the right thing. But Baekhyun catches his gaze and offers him a smile, loose at the corners, big and bright. And then he's saying, "Cheers!" picking up his now-filled shot glass and raises it in the air. Myungsoo raises his own glass, then, not knowing what else to do, and brings it close to the center. He clinks his glass with Sunggyu's own, wincing a little at the sound. His knuckles brush against Baekhyun's. It's light enough to go unnoticed, but not enough feather-light for Sunggyu to miss the contact, to not cock an eyebrow at Myungsoo over the tangled mess of their shot glasses. Baekhyun doesn't flinch, doesn't jerk back. Instead, he holds Myungsoo's gaze as he takes the shot, as he swipes his tongue along his top lip and wears the same big smile at the end.

Baekhyun places his shot glass down at the middle and slips next to Myungsoo. Under the table, Myungsoo feels Baekhyun's warm hand on his knee, sliding up until Baekhyun's drawing lazy patterns on Myungsoo's thigh.

Myungsoo pours them all another round and takes a deep breath. Baekhyun's warmth seeps through his pants, numbs his senses until all he can feel is the hot and heavy thrum of arousal in his pants. In his mind, he counts down from three and braces himself for the impact of the flash:

One: Baekhyun gives his thigh a gentle squeeze.

Two: Baekhyun leans in just close enough for Myungsoo to catch the scent of alcohol in Baekhyun's breath. Or maybe that's his, but the voice that's saying, "Keep it coming," is definitely not his.

Three: He can feel Baekhyun's pulse beat fast against his skin, in tandem with his own.

He takes the shot straight up and closes his eyes, relishing the feeling of the cool liquid scoring a thick, hot line down his throat. His vision turns blissfully white for a moment, and then black the next. This is it, he thinks, the point of no return. So he leans his head on Baekhyun's shoulder in an attempt to still the racing in his chest despite Sunggyu's heavy, stern glance. Baekhyun snakes his hand around his shoulder in thoughtless response, up Myungsoo's nape until he can guide Myungsoo's head to find a better fit in his body.

There's no turning back.

ミ☆

They call it a day after their fourth bottle of soju. They would have stopped after their third, but by then the effects of alcohol had already worn off and Sunggyu was cold again. "One last bottle," Sunggyu then said, looking at Myungsoo with a careful gaze and kicking him under the table. It made sense – Myungsoo was the one paying for their drinks, after all. Half of their total alcohol order had been requested by Sunggyu. Sunggyu wouldn't stop giving the tip of his shoe tiny kicks as if he knew something was happening under there, where there was nothing but darkness and Baekhyun drawing lazy circles on Myungsoo's thigh. Baekhyun probably felt that, too, the jerking motion when Myungsoo's knuckles locked and his hand gave a funny twitch. He'd stopped doodling figures after that and simply lay his palm flat on the back of Myungsoo's hand, instead.

And now they're back in the streets of Gangnam, waiting at the curb for a cab to pass them by. "We'll drop you off, hyung," Baekhyun tells Sunggyu when Sunggyu almost topples over while walking a straight line. Sunggyu waves them off, but Myungsoo wraps his fingers around Sunggyu's wrist to steady him. "Seriously, I don't trust you to get out of a cab without falling flat on your face, hyung."

"Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence," Sunggyu mumbles. He hiccups, then looks to his side, meeting Myungsoo's gaze. His eyes aren't that sharp anymore, no longer carrying the same fire they had earlier when they talked about Myungsoo and Baekhyun's twisted friendship. There's still a hint of curiosity in them, though, in the light furrow of his eyebrows, the tilt of his head. Myungsoo loosens his grip, then, moving his hand to Sunggyu's back and running it up and down Sunggyu's spine in a slow, steady motion. "I can go home alone, though. Don't–" He laughs a little. "You know, at this point, you'd think I've already learned my lesson and leave my car at home because you two always get me ass drunk but–"

But there's a certain allure to the same old mistakes, to falling prey to the same old techniques and feeling the same old crippling feeling crawl up your spine again. There's something about feeling the same sensation wrap around your neck. Choke you and control you and make you lose all sense of logic. That's what Myungsoo feels whenever he steps inside a dark part of a room with Baekhyun following closely behind. That's what he feels when Baekhyun casts him a glance and reaches out, holding onto him by the hem of his jacket. He's familiar with it, and it's the same thing that makes him berate himself even more when he lays his free hand flat on Baekhyun's own even with Sunggyu's presence keeping them farther apart than the usual.

"But you never learn," Myungsoo finishes. Baekhyun would've said it – his lips are poised to deliver a snide remark, his mouth twisted to the side – but it sounds better coming from Myungsoo. Not as snarky but bearing the same message, softened only by the steady calm of his tone. Sunggyu snorts in acknowledgement. There isn't much that he can do when he's ass drunk and relying on two of his friends to help him stand properly, after all. "You're getting into a cab with us and we're dropping you off at your place, okay? Don't even think of saying no."

Sunggyu lets out a low exhale. "Fine. But at least let me pay for your fare. It's... This whole thing's just terribly inconvenient."

No, it isn't. This is a test. This is Sunggyu trying to see if Myungsoo's sober enough to realize that they're out in public, that they're in Gangnam, that there might be people who could be watching them. This is Sunggyu checking if Myungsoo understands what they were talking about earlier, if he remembers that 'Baekhyun's an idol. You know that, right? Answer me, Myungsoo, come on–' And modesty aside, Myungsoo thinks he's doing a darn good job at reminding himself of the rules, running through it in his head every single minute – no unnecessary touching in public. Maintain a good distance between each other. No lingering looks and funny smiles. In bold and capital letters, don't fall in love.

Still, Myungsoo agrees to the arrangement. It's money saved, after all. That may be the only good thing about it. On the list of cons: they won't be able get to Ilsandong faster because they'll have to turn left from the Gangnam area so they can take Sunggyu home first. They have to be so conscious of the presence between them in the cab when they shuffle inside. Their bodies will be cramped in the small space, in the darkness. And Baekhyun's one touch, just one other body away. They don't really have a choice – they can only stay as far away from each other in Sunggyu's presence. They can't let their bodies align.

"Our ride's here," Baekhyun says, opening the door. He gets inside first then helps Sunggyu climb in. Myungsoo goes last, but he doesn't miss Baekhyun's gaze, the unspoken message in the way Baekhyun licks his lips when Sunggyu accidentally punches Myungsoo in the face while stretching his arms. Myungsoo seethes at the contact, but doesn't look away just yet. He locks the door behind him and slips in his seat, body still facing Baekhyun.

Sunggyu gives his address to the driver, then tells him that, "These two are getting down at Ilsandong." The driver nods in understanding then drives off, Ganganm disappearing behind them in a blur.

The streets are blessedly rid of heavy traffic at this hour. They get to Sunggyu's place in thirty minutes, and Baekhyun gets off with Sunggyu to make sure Sunggyu gets to his flat without falling asleep on the stairs. Myungsoo waits in silence in the cab, drumming his fingers on his thigh. In a few minutes, he'll be alone with Baekhyun again and– And who knows what might happen? They're in an enclosed space. They're alone. They're in the dark. And Baekhyun gets a lot of ideas, both good and bad, in the dark. Once, Baekhyun leaned his head on Myungsoo's shoulder and just hummed a small tune, his lips pressed to Myungsoo's neck. And then another: he played with Myungsoo's fingers the whole time they were on the road, still inebriated and maybe a bit too willing.

He told Baekhyun off that time, saying, "I'm ticklish. Don't– Stop doing that–" But Baekhyun wouldn't let go, wouldn't let him breathe. Baekhyun was stubborn in the dark as he was in broad daylight. And Myungsoo was weak in all the right places, at the right time.

Baekhyun knocks on the door thrice before pulling it open. He slips inside, his hand finding a nice fit on Myungsoo's thigh, then shuts the door behind him. Then he gives the driver his address and turns to Myungsoo with a small, shy smile.

Trouble, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind registers. Myungsoo's no stranger to this, the lazy patterns Baekhyun is doodling on his thigh, the tiny bubbles of laughter dancing on Baekhyun's lips. And he's no stranger to the way his stomach lurches, either, alcohol making everything that aches in his body burn even more.

"So. It's just you and me now," Baekhyun whispers.

Myungsoo gulps hard. That's the problem, he wants to say. They're the only ones in this cab. Baekhyun is smiling that bright, charming smile of his. Disarming. And Myungsoo's too sick in the head to fight the pull of gravity, the pull of Baekhyun's smile.

He leans forward, resting his forehead on Baekhyun's own. "Just you and me," he echoes. In a smaller voice, he says, "That's not how things are supposed to be."

Baekhyun looks up, humming, but it's too dark where they are for Myungsoo to see the finer details of Baekhyun's face. He has the shape of Baekhyun's face, the quirk of his mouth, the shift of his muscles memorized, but there might be things that he's missing with the shadows wrapping things up in a thick dark blanket. So Myungsoo doesn't say anything else, doesn't do anything, and just lets Baekhyun fall asleep on his shoulder. The fatigue in his muscles is a reminder – that it's past midnight and people nearing their thirties shouldn't be drinking this much anymore, that Baekhyun's slumped against him, lips pressed to expanse of skin where Myungsoo used to have his scarf. That this is real and he isn't imagining things, because the way that Baekhyun's hot breath prickles his skin and makes his insides turn leaves scars far too deep for him to ignore.

"Straight ahead," he tells the driver when the driver slows down near a curb. He's walking straight into a disaster and he knows it. And he's looking forward to the prize at the end of the road.

ミ☆

He receives a text message from Sunggyu the following day, just a few minutes shy of seven in the morning. thanks for dropping me off. or at least i think you dropped me off last night, the first message says. The second, and i'm sorry about that… thing. but thank you. for understanding. i trust you to remember our conversation.

Myungsoo stops toweling dry his hair as he reads those two messages again and again, going through each word until the message sinks in. His appointment with another client by the name of Lee Sungyeol at Gangnam isn't until eleven in the morning, after all. There's enough time to read both messages carefully until he can recite them under his breath. But he has a 9 a.m. coffee run with Baekhyun. And it's still too early to be processing serious texts, especially with alcohol still sloshing around in his head. So he takes a deep breath, then takes his phone in his hands from where he'd put it down on his bed. Years of friendship are enough to let him know that Sunggyu's waiting for a reply. He doesn't need to think that one through.

we're cool, Myungsoo types. His thumb hovers the send button for a while, then he adds, i promise to be a good boy.

It sounds like such a silly text especially coming from someone his age, but Sunggyu responds with a smiley. Then a couple of stickers that make no sense but ease the knot of tension in Myungsoo's chest, anyway. Sunggyu says nothing else, nothing beyond those choppy sentences of his, choosing instead to speak through visuals. But that, in itself, is the message – Sunggyu's expecting him to make all the right calls, the right decisions. Sunggyu's expecting him to remember that whatever he does with Baekhyun will affect Baekhyun's budding career. Sunggyu's banking on years of knowing Myungsoo to be assured that he won't screw things up. And Myungsoo's expecting himself to not let Sunggyu down because he's always kept his promises. He's always gone for the safe shots. He's a good guy.

running a bit late :( c u tho i'll fly there and b there by 9!!, comes Baekhyun's text. Myungsoo shuts his eyes tight, laughs to himself. There's just one thing.

c u, is all he replies with, then he's plugging his phone to his charger to stock up on battery before he leaves. In ten minutes, he'll be on the next bus to Gangnam and sipping coffee with Baekhyun to start his day right. After that, he'll be meeting up with Sungyeol to iron out the details of their project. In the afternoon, he'll be hiding in a coffee shop to get his freelance work done because he'll be in SM the whole evening until the whee hours of the morning. This is the routine he's found himself falling into, a routine that Baekhyun has made him ease into only in the span of a few months.

This is a change of image. This is him wearing an entirely different second skin, one he might have already worn years ago – a skin clothed in shadows and the warmth of Baekhyun's touch. Trouble, trouble, trouble.

ミ☆

"You really didn't have to have it delivered."

Myungsoo bows to the delivery man before handing the signed receipt in exchange for the package. He's been spending more time indoors these days, leaving his flat only in the evening to catch Baekhyun's last few practice sessions. The box isn't that big, about the size of a bond paper except three-dimensional, that he can tuck it under his arm without overextending himself. He could've picked it up from Sungjong's new office, but Sungjong had insisted to call it a present. 'And the one you're gifting the present to shouldn't be traveling all these miles just to get his gift, right?' Sungjong had even said. It's not a present, though. It's a collection of negatives that Sungjong had kept from when they were still with Red Balloon. They're negatives of pictures that never made the final cut in print ads, photographs that look more raw than those people see in advertisements. And they're exactly the type of photos that Myungsoo wants people to see in his spring exhibit with Howon.

"I had it delivered express. Didn't want to get molds on the slides. You know how fragile those are," Sungjong says on the other end of the call.

"I'm sure they arrived in perfect condition. I'll just–" Myungsoo kicks the door shut behind him and brings the box to the living room. "I'll check them one by one later–"

"Open the box now, for my peace of mind. Just gloss over them to see if they're okay."

"Jong, relax. You sent the package yesterday afternoon in exchange for the designs you made made me do–"

"Pro bono," Sungjong interrupts, drawling the syllables as if it will make a difference. It won't. "Come on, just open it–"

Myungsoo rolls his eyes. The sooner he gets to checking these, the sooner Sungjong will let him drop the line. The sooner he can do other things on his phone, like replying to the five messages Baekhyun had sent him before Sungjong called him on his line. "Fine. I'll get right to it. I'm getting a cutter right now and–"

The line breaks up a little. Sungjong's silence has good timing. "Good. Let me know what you see once you open the flaps."

"I'll give you a running commentary," Myungsoo replies, voice dropping low and thick. He scores a line though the packing tape with the blade, then, and says, "First up, I'm seeing–"

Several boxes of slides labelled properly. The labels are simple written characters on plain masking tape, but with a special touch. Sungjong has labeled those related to work with a frowning face, and those that they've probably taken during downtime with a star. At first glance, Myungsoo can already see familiar project names – Project Spiral for the McDonald's Twister Fries campaign, Project Unicorn for the Bambi Kimchi advertisement. Project Park for, well, Park Yoochun's Starbucks advertisement. Then two to three boxes marked with a star and the text 'Project Ultima (Genesis Coupe)' in big, bold characters.

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. He clenches his fists. "I didn't handle Ultima, Jong." A loud, shaky exhale through his nose, then, "You do know that, right?"

On the other end of the line, Sungjong laughs a little. He probably means well, but everyone knows that Myungsoo made sure not to come close to any of the Ultima materials. Conflict of interest, he'd always say, because he also handled Park Jungsoo's Rolls-Royce advertisements. Everyone bought the excuse. No one bothered him about it. Only a handful of people knew the real reason behind pointedly avoiding the project – it was Woohyun's first endorsement following getting recruited by SM, the first time that he was seeing Woohyun after graduation. And he was doing so well controlling his emotions that time that he didn't want to put all his efforts to waste.

"Those slides are safe," Sungjong says. He clears his throat. "They... They're just photos that we took of the car. Remember when the three of us played around with the Genesis Hyundai sent us to take photos of? You, Hoya, and I, the golden trio? Those are the only photos there. I swear I double-checked before sending the slides to you."

Myungsoo lets out a long exhale. "Did you, really? Because I know how long you guys have been trying to get Woohyun in touch with me."

"Valid concern, but–" More static. The line's chopping up again. Winter's out to fuck up communication lines during the last two weeks of the season. It's the most cruel season for a good reason. "Realistically, even if I was feeling too sad and sorry for the poor guy because he's been asking all your common friends how to contact you, I'm still more afraid of what you might do to me if I ever tried to send you Woohyun-related things. The fear is still more powerful than the pity."

"But these slides are 'Woohyun-related'."

"I mean–" Sungjong grumbles. "Stop being difficult, alright? It's been years, Soo. Your old whatever with that Woohyun guy ended even before we met in Red Balloon. That's more than half a decade ago. If you keep holding onto grudges from the past then you'll never be truly happy."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath and slumps in his chair. The wall clock reads ten in the morning. It's not too early for conversations like these, but at the same time it feels like it without alcohol to numb his senses, to ease the dull ache in his chest. It has been years, five years and then some, since the whole ordeal happened. Woohyun dropped the bomb and told him that he just saw Myungsoo as a friend. ("Right. Because friends fuck each other at the very back of the library or in every closed space. Of course, Woohyun, we're just friends.") That he, in fact, liked girls. ("You like how she takes care of you, Woohyun. You like her because she's always understands even if she's already at the brink of kicking you in the balls. If you had some, at least." "What?" "Treat her with respect." "I am treating her with respect." "Then it's not enough.") That he wasn't going to take any of the bullshit Myungsoo was telling him because he knows he's not the asshole Myungsoo is saying that he is. In the end, Myungsoo never got to say his spiel past the, "You're too full of yourself. What about other people? What about your friends?" Then Woohyun huffed, turned his heel to leave. Myungsoo made sure to never come across Woohyun again, made sure to erase Woohyun from his life.

There are still traces of Woohyun in his life, peppered on his skin and across his chest. He's like an itch that's hard to ignore, a dull ache that's hard to get rid off. There will always be the ghost of Woohyun haunting him, a small, small voice at the back of his mind, saying, 'You'll never be able to escape. These scars will be with you until the very end. There is no escaping Woohyun, Kim Myungsoo, and he's a fever you have to learn to live with.'

He takes a deep breath. On the other end of the line, he hears Sungjong saying, "Are you okay? You alright there? Hey, Myungsoo, I'm sorry–"

"It's okay," Myungsoo answers after a while. He takes a deep breath then says, "Thanks for sending these over. I'll probably find something useful here for my current freelance project. I'll take you out for coffee once I get paid."

"You don't have to."

"I want to." For good will, to let Sungjong know that 'no hard feelings, man'. It's part of the drill. "It's fine, don't worry. It's been years. I'm better now. I can survive remembering things about him without having to break down every five minutes anymore."

"Silly kid," Sungjong says, laughing. A deep, shaky breath, then, "Alright, I've got to go. I... I'm working on Ultima 3.0. Just a heads up. Bye!"

Myungsoo rolls his eyes and ends the call. He stares at his phone for a good five seconds, then brings the box of slides to where his lightbox is.

When the Hyundai Genesis project was named 'Ultima', everyone was joking about it never ending. As long as Hyundai kept manufacturing the Genesis and reinventing it in the hope that it might outlast some of the more affordable cars in the same price range, there would be a Project Ultima. It made sense – the agency working on the project wouldn't need to think of a new project name. It had recall. It was easy to remember. It fucking stuck. Fast forward years later and it's still alive. And it has followed Sungjong to his new agency like a shadow that he can't ever get rid of.

The last time Myungsoo checked, Woohyun was still promoting the car. The last Genesis commercial he saw was for the new Coupe, two years ago. That was around the time that Woohyun made his 'comeback' with his second studio album. He was promoting alongside a certain J-Hyun, SM's most famous rock artist. Woohyun dominated music charts then, and soon he'd dominate commercial gaps with a slew of TV ads, all with his face plastered on them. Maybe that was what 'desensitized' Myungsoo to the concept of seeing Woohyun's face. Maybe it was what softened the blow and made it easier to forget most of the pain that recalling their past brought with it. His chest would constrict everytime he saw Woohyun's smile at the back of his eyes while he was applying moisturizer on his cheek, but that was it. No more clawing pain in his chest. No more throwing up whatever he'd eaten just minutes before. No more reaching for the first can of beer his hand can reach or whatever alcohol he had in his fridge. All the residual damage of the separation was focused on chest pains, a dry throat. Fingers growing cold and numb even as he clenched and unclenched and clenched his hands into fists again in an effort to restore the feeling in his fingers.

And like any nasty stain on white cloth, specks of memories with Woohyun remained in him, at the very back of his mind. Maybe it was muscle memory, his chest constricting at the thought of Woohyun's loud and obnoxious cackle. It was a habit so hard to break.

He opens the first box of slides now and lays them down on the glowing surface in neat rows. He's looking for a nice photo of a car that he can have digitized and saved in a flash drive. He's looking for something he can use in one of those freelance projects that Howon had given him. He's looking for something to help make his job easier, not for something to make his chest heavy and his throat feel dry. So he pulls up a familiar playlist, a live recording of a raw voice singing and belting out lines of songs that are just about to hit Korean radio stations nationwide.

ミ☆

The end of the season means the end of another production cycle. With the autumn and winter shoots now crossed off the list, they're down to the last two seasons to shoot in the next five months. There's enough time, given the speed at which the whole team works, but with the freelance projects stacking up on Myungsoo's desk, there's barely time to breathe. He's been in contact with Dongwoo, polishing the compre designs that Howon has already had approved for finalizing. He's also been taking some small side jobs from Sungjong that don't conflict with the brands that he's handling in Dongwoo's brand portfolio. Morning 'til noon, he devotes to his freelance work that pays thrice as much as his 8-to-whenever job when he was still with Red Balloon.

In the evening, he travels all the way to the Gangnam area to catch Baekhyun's practices and work out the details of the last two shoots with Sunggyu.

Baekhyun's practicing a new song today, something that Yoo Youngjin had given him just this afternoon. "Not sure if this will be for the next album or a single but I'm pretty sure it's a duet. I mean, the lyrics read like it," Baekhyun says, then waves the lyrics sheet in front of Myungsoo. Beside Myungsoo, Sunggyu looks up from where he's studying the music sheets. "It reads like two men fighting for one woman's love and affection."

"Oh wow. I thought SM only did 'painstakingly cute' and 'frighteningly mad', no in-betweens?" Myungsoo says. He leans closer, studying the lyrics. It sounds like a powerful piece that requires an equally powerful voice. Baekhyun shouldn't have much difficulty with it, though; he's been getting better everyday.

"They also do 'heartwrenchingly sad,'" Sunggyu mumbles. He holds the music sheet up beside the lyrics, then, drawing a line with his finger from one side of the paper to another. "They gave you the demo, right? Just study that first. Joonmyun will discuss the duet dynamics with you within the week, I'm pretty sure. Don't mind the breaks in the message first; just sing it as thought you're in conflict with your own feelings."

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at Sunggyu. "That actually works, hyung," he whispers, nodding in thought. Then a small smile lights up his features, pulling up one corner of his lips. "Why didn't you become a singer? You have a great and distinct voice. You sing well."

"Not all 'good singers' are emotive singers," Sunggyu answers. Myungsoo looks to his side, meeting Sunggyu's gaze. Sunggyu's cheeks are stiff, the smile on his lips controlled. C'mon, hyung, don't fuck around with me now, he wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead, he inches away, giving Sunggyu enough space to move around. And Sunggyu seems to get it, shifting in his seat now and placing his hands on either side of him. "And SM's looking only for the latter kind."

"He means he doesn't have enough guts to do the silly stuff you do on stage," Myungsoo says in summary. Sunggyu snorts, and soon the choked sound blooms into laughter. He digs his elbow into Myungsoo's side and twists it. Myungsoo groans and hits him right back. "Also, he's an even shittier dancer than you are so–"

Baekhyun's eyes widen. He gasps, loud and exaggerated. He scrunches his face in the ugliest surprised look ever, but even then he still looks a bit attractive with the way a silly grin pulls up at the corners of his mouth. "You– You're worse than me in dancing? Hyung, you must be–"

"Shut up, you two!" Sunggyu slaps them both on the arm hard enough to sting for the next few seconds. Still, Myungsoo lets laughter get the better of him, the thick lump of something in his throat dropping to the pit of his stomach when he meets Myungsoo's eyes and catches sight of his unguarded smile.

Practice stretches on for the next three hours, with Sunggyu telling Baekhyun to take a break at the stroke of the hour. Baekhyun shakes his head, though, telling Sunggyu that he's okay, he can still go on. "I just want to get this part right–" He furrows his eyebrows in concentration as he practices that one part, the same line, again and again until his voice breaks at the end of the second verse. "Goddamit. I almost–" Baekhyun huffs. "Okay. One last time, then I'm taking a water break." He looks over his shoulder, then searches for Myungsoo's gaze. "And you're coming with me."

It takes a while for Myungsoo to realize that he's the one Myungsoo's pertaining to. Or it takes longer to sink in, because he'd been paying attention just a few minutes ago before a text message from Howon came in. He's halfway through typing the dimensions on the canvas he'd used for one of the designs he made when Baekhyun repeats, "I said, you're coming with me, Myungsoo," drawling the syllables of his name. So he looks up, meeting Baekhyun's focused gaze, the slight tilt of Sunggyu's head beside him not going unnoticed. "Yes, you, cute guy who's been glaring at his phone for the past two minutes."

Cute guy. Sunggyu won't like that. Myungsoo cracks his neck and takes that as an opportunity to sneak a glance at Sunggyu. Sunggyu hasn't looked up yet, his eyes still fixed on the blur of colors on his screen. "I'm busy. Why don't you go out alone?"

"Because I'm getting us drinks from the vending machine and I can't hold them. Because they're cold." Baekhyun holds both his hands up in the air and wiggles his fingers. "Learned that from dance class. And yes, the messy choreography I was doing earlier was a dance. Shut up."

Myungsoo rolls his eyes in response, doesn't quite confirm his attendance. Instead, he shrugs and leans back against the wall, finishing his text in one quick sentence before locking his screen. His phone gives off a soft 'click'. Baekhyun smirks in acknowledgement.

"Banana uyuu, right, hyung? 3 dozens?" Baekhyun asks, turning to Sunggyu. Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him but doesn't speak yet, doesn't utter a word. There must be a silent conversation going on, because Baekhyun keeps twisting his mouth and biting the inside of his cheek, keeps swinging his arms in his sides in tandem with the heaving of his chest. And he keeps shifting his gaze from Sunggyu to Myungsoo and then back, like he's saying, 'If you two talked about weird stuff behind my back, I swear to God, hyung, I'm going to–'

"Don't be silly. Just two." Sunggyu rubs the tip of his nose. His lips are slowly curling up in a small smile again. The knot in Myungsoo's chest eases, tension lifting from his shoulders. "Two dozens. Soo?"

Baekhyun meets his gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkled a little. His lips are tugged up in a tight-lipped smile. "Fanta," Myungsoo says, croaking. He clears his throat a little to flush down the weird, tickling sensation inside him. "I mean, Fanta. The grape-flavored soda."

Baekhyun blinks several times then turns to Sunggyu. "He means Tempra, right? Is he trying to get me to buy cough syrup for myself?"

Sunggyu lets out a dramatic sigh, then turns to his side to look at Myungsoo. "Shit, Soo. He outed us."

Sunggyu probably means, nice save there, you two. But don't ever pull off shit like that in public or else I'll dismember you both.

Baekhyun finishes his 'last run' – and by that, Baekhyun actually means his last three runs of the same song because he just won't stop until he got it right – fifteen minutes after. Sunggyu walks over to where he is, drying Baekhyun's hair with a hand towel, and Baekhyun only groans in response but doesn't flinch away. Myungsoo laughs a little. This is the sort of dynamic that he and Sunggyu used to have back in college, back when Myungsoo needed guidance more than he did oxygen and water. Sunggyu would make sure Myungsoo got up on time so he wouldn't miss his classes, make sure Myungsoo didn't skip meals (or at least nibbled on crackers during snack time) despite the stress that school brought. And in turn, he'd try to make Sunggyu didn't panic at the first sign of trouble in their little photography club. He'd accompany Sunggyu whenever he could, spend time with him during breaks. All they ever did was sit in comfortable silence while going through readings, sometimes talk about photography projects and endeavors. Sunggyu never forced him to speak up, though. He was always patient enough to wait it out, wait for Myungsoo to open up and warm up to him all over again.

"Let's go?" Baekhyun says after a while, the hand towel peeking from his collar at the back. Sunggyu pats Baekhyun's shirt dry one last time. "Seriously, hyung, I'll get you a truckload of banana uyuu. You're being extra nice. Hang on. Are you sick?"

Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow at Sunggyu. It's just a tiny lift of the eyebrow, subtle enough that it's easy to miss. Sunggyu meets him head on, though, looking straight at him. This isn't Sunggyu being too nice, or Sunggyu getting bogged down by some virus. This is Sunggyu sticking close by, making sure that nothing funky happens. But nothing weird has been happening, Myungsoo wants to say. They're just getting some drinks, not disappearing into the closest empty space and backing each other up against the wall. Baekhyun just needs some water, a drink, not a kiss. And Baekhyun's just looking for company, someone to help him carry all thirty-six packs of banana uyuu for Sunggyu's consumption.

Still, Myungsoo plays along, pressing the back of his hand to Sunggyu's forehead. "I think he's a bit sick in the head," he whispers, narrowing his eyes for effect. He takes a punch straight to the gut after that, with Sunggyu even twisting his loosely-balled fist in Myungsoo's shirt. "Definitely sick in the head."

Baekhyun lets out a dramatic sigh. "I knew we were bad for his health."

Not too far off, Myungsoo's almost tempted to say. He doesn't. Instead, he laughs and shakes his head, exaggerating his movements a bit just to make fun of Sunggyu. He earns a slap on the arm for that, a light kick to his calf. None of those hurt, but they do jolt him awake enough for the dregs of lethargy to spill from his hands as he turns the knob.

The door shuts closed behind them and Baekhyun slumps against the wall for a while. "The air here's better," he says, a bit breathy, then scoots closer to where Myungsoo is. "So much better."

Myungsoo swallows hard. Sunggyu's there in the room, on the other side of the wall. They're just feet away. And they're out here in the open, in a mostly empty hall where anyone can see them. Where anything can happen. If Baekhyun's courageous enough to take a blind leap of faith then he'd thread their fingers together here in this well-lit corridor. And if Myungsoo's foolish enough, unmindful of Sunggyu waiting for his banana uyuu just beyond the wall, he'd hold onto Baekhyun and just spend the next few minutes like that.

But they aren't. Baekhyun just keeps staring. And Myungsoo looks back at him, keeps his eyes locked onto Baekhyun's own and nothing else. Baekhyun's worrying his bottom lip too much, licking his lips, doing all sorts of things, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint in Myungsoo to not let his gaze trail south.

"The drinks," Myungsoo whispers. He nudges Baekhyun a little.

Baekhyun traps his tongue between his lips. He looks like a kid who's been deprived of lollipop. Strawberry-flavored lollipop. His tongue is a duller shade of the pink of his pretty mouth. "Right. The drinks."

Myungsoo pushes himself away from the wall. Baekhyun chases after him, catching the tips of his fingers with his hand and not letting go until the reach the vending machine a few meters away. He'll regret this later, when his mind registers that Baekhyun's sweaty and sticky from practice, when he remembers that Baekhyun is an SM trainee, soon to be an idol. When he remembers that there are probably ten, twenty, a hundred invisible eyes watching them right now, boring holes at the back of their heads. So he pulls away as early as now, while Baekhyun's distracted with feeding won bills into the machine and not looking at him.

The hand Baekhyun is using to press buttons on the machine trembles a little. He doesn't tear his gaze from the machine, though, until it gives off a weird sound, until the first drink drops to the takeout port and the machine quiets down to low thrumming.

"I'll take it," Myungsoo says, reaching for the drink. Baekhyun crouches low. Their hands collide just near the window where hot meets cold. So they push the panel back, swinging it open, and hold onto the drink at the same time. Teamwork, Myungsoo says to himself as he wraps his fingers around the can of Fanta, as Baekhyun does the same and slots his fingers between Myungsoo's own. They stay like that for a few seconds, until the wave of cold reaches their arms, numbing their muscles, making them shiver. No one will see them here, and if anyone ever calls them out on it then they can just say they happened to attempt to get the drink at the same time. Got their hands stuck in a messy web in the takeout compartment. Held onto each other a little longer than necessary. Stuff like that happens. It has nothing to do with Baekhyun needing a bit of human warmth, a comforting touch. It has nothing to do with Myungsoo wanting the same thing, maybe even more than Baekhyun does. And it has nothing to do with the loud, heavy pulse in their palms, moving with each other in one steady beat, as if singing the same song.

ミ☆

Baekhyun finally calls it a night at eleven in the evening. There's a whole map on his back now where his shirt sticks to his skin, sweat drawing pools of islands on his white shirt. His hair's a mess, the tips clumped together in some weird fashion. And he's dipping his hand inside his shirt, wiping his front in a steady up and down motion. The CD he was using earlier is now in Sunggyu's hands, and Myungsoo has already taken possession of the music sheets. There are doodles on it that look a lot like notes, different symbols drawn beside the lyrics. The bridges are marked with arrows pointing up and down at certain parts. There are a few lines marked with asterisks, some with hearts. Myungsoo draws the sheet closer to himself, inspecting it. There's a note there that says, 'needs more emotions!!! don't close eyes accdg to myungsoo must make eye contact w audience!!!'

Myungsoo laughs to himself. Trust Baekhyun to write down reminders this way, as if conversing with himself. He does that all the time, when he's practicing his dance routine one step at a time, perfecting each twist and turn and pirouette. He does that when he screws things up, as well, telling himself, "Come on, Baek, you can do better. Seriously, dude, shape up. Don't half-ass your shit. You'll regret it in the future."

"Okay, I'm good," Baekhyun says, then uncaps his bottle of Gatorade. He throws that into the trash can beside the door as soon as he empties out the bottle, then turns the knob. "Same old arrangement?"

Sunggyu looks up from his phone and turns to look at Myungsoo. "Same old?"

'Same old' means Myungsoo and Baekhyun taking the same cab and Sunggyu taking another. It means Baekhyun sliding his hand up Myungsoo's thigh again and doing nothing else. It means Myungsoo counting down those precious minutes until he can breathe again and wash the sting of Baekhyun's warm touch away. It means having to stay under the spray longer than the usual, imagining how it would feel to have Baekhyun's arms around his waist, stripped down to just their bare skin, how it would feel to have Baekhyun's lips on his again.

He presses the 'stop' button in his mind. Rewinds to that time when Baekhyun was nothing more than Sunggyu's 'kid', a talent that SM had just decided to let debut in less than a year's time. Then he presses 'play' and wonders how it would have been if he hadn't gone to the bathroom that time, hadn't gone around to look for Baekhyun. Hadn't given in and just pushed Baekhyun away instead of closing his eyes and relishing the warmth of Baekhyun's lips pressed to a corner of his mouth.

'Same old' doesn't mean the past. It means a new routine he's developed with Baekhyun, around Baekhyun.

Myungsoo holds Sunggyu's gaze. Is this still a test? C'mon, hyung, it's almost midnight, he wants to argue, but there's no point. Sunggyu will always be testing him in the same way that he'll always be a bit too paranoid about Baekhyun overextending himself. Sunggyu will always try to check if Myungsoo remembers their conversation, every single thing about it, the same way that he'll always make sure they get a cab before he does when he isn't off his face. It's too much, but it's warranted. Sunggyu's only concerned about Baekhyun and his career, after all. Of course he'll want the best for his kid. Of course he'll want to make sure Baekhyun doesn't get into 'trouble' with anyone, even a friend. So Myungsoo says, "If that's okay with you," instead of, 'It works. I don't see a reason why we should change it. Or maybe I do, but I'd rather not see it clearly.'

"Well, I'm not drunk and neither am I sleepy. I can drop off you two somewhere, though. Or–" Sunggyu scrunches his face. His twirls the keychain for his car key in one finger. "Ah, shit, subway's already closed." He takes a deep breath. "No choice, I guess. You'll have to take a cab."

More like, you'll have to take the road to hell. I trust you to wear seat belts. But in any case, be safe. Godspeed.

Myungsoo shrugs and replies, "It's fine. Thanks for offering, though." He steps outside the room and begins his journey to the elevators with the other two following closely behind. "We'll text you when we get home. I'll try not to forget."

"Or try not to fall asleep at once," Baekhyun says, nudging him in his side. Myungsoo narrows his eyes and nudges back in thoughtless retaliation. "What? You fell asleep on me while we were texting two nights ago and I was waiting for a reply and–"

And you didn't have to say that, Myungsoo wants to argue. Baekhyun didn't have to let Sunggyu know that they've been talking until the whee hours of the morning these past few weeks, that Myungsoo may be one of the reasons behind Baekhyun's worsening eyebags and fatigue at eight in the morning. But, then again, there's nothing to hide now, is there? All their conversations are about singing and performing and the cold weather. Bundling up in at least three layers of clothes to be able to move around comfortable. Enjoying coffee ("Real coffee, not your hot chocolate with a shot of espresso." "Shut up, non-believer. You'll learn to appreciate the wonders of hot chocolate someday. Maybe when–" "When what?" "Maybe if you tasted it off– No, never mind." "Yeah. Never mind.") in the morning before powering through the to-do list the following day. Seeing each other in the evening, with the promise of going home together and falling asleep on each other's shoulders in the cab burning brightly at the back of their eyelids.

"I thought the insomnia's long gone?" Sunggyu asks.

Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow, then turns to his side to look at Baekhyun. "It comes and goes," Baekhyun answers, then digs his hands in his back pockets. His pace quickens, about two steps faster than the usual, and soon his elbows are bumping into Myungsoo's, sending a jolt of electricity up his arms, wrapping around his neck.

The trip down the lift is silent, the white noise broken only by the occasional beeping of Sunggyu's phone. It's an entirely different story when they get to the ground floor, though, all sorts of shouts and cheers coming from both the entrance and the direction of the back door. The fans are always overeager, too excited, but they're rarely this worked up to cause such loud noise. This isn't even a concert, unless some kind group of trainees decided to give the fans outside a show. Not impossible, though; SM is known to recruit kids who are so passionate about performing that they'd put on a show for anybody who asked, even for free. So Myungsoo cranes his neck, eager to see what the commotion is all about.

"Let's just exit through–" Sunggyu looks at either side of him. Both exits are blocked, but at least the crowd near the back door isn't as thick as the one in front. "Or you two can ride with me until we get to a place where you two can hail a cab. Cool?"

Baekhyun rubs the underside of his nose. The fatigue's wearing him down, his eyes now sullen. Or maybe he's just plain sleepy. Too much hard work does that to you sometimes, wears you down faster than the usual. He locks his arms behind his back. "Or you can pick us up from the back door? I don't think I can ride the lift again without throwing up. I kinda feel sick."

Sunggyu takes a deep breath. "You're dehydrated. I told you to drink more water."

"And I'll telling you now, hyung, an option is to just pick us up from the back." He winks, then lands a light jab to Sunggyu's arm. "Relax, hyung. I'll be okay. I just need to get a bit of fresh air."

"I'll take care of him," Myungsoo offers. He gives Sunggyu's arm a light squeeze. "Text me when you're on your way out so we won't have to wait outside for too long."

Sunggyu holds his gaze for a moment, then pulls away with a curt nod. "Alright," he says, then turns on his heel to leave. He looks over his shoulder just a few steps into his journey, though, and says, "There's a water bottle in your backpack, kid. Finish the whole thing. I'll check it once you hop on my car."

"What am I, eight?" Baekhyun groans.

"You might as well be," Sunggyu answers. His figure blurs behind the elevator doors, shadows crawling up his face and ridding him of his usual glow. Sunggyu looks three years older than he should be. He looks tired. He also looks worried and concerned. It's not a good look on him. He was born with a smiling face, not with fear written all over his features.

"Myungsoo, I'm counting on you–" Sunggyu says as a goodbye, then the doors shut closed. A dull thud punctuates Sunggyu's unfinished sentence, paves way for Baekhyun's loud exhale. And then there's a short bout of silence again, sort of like the noise has been flushed down the drain by an external force, the loud gushing of the wind. The doors at the front and back being locked.

"I'm not a kid," Baekhyun grumbles. He rummages through his bag, anyway, looking for the water bottle. It takes a while to dig into the contents, to wade through the chaos in Baekhyun's bag, but Myungsoo spots the pink bottle popping out of a corner and reaches for it at once.

"Definitely not a kid," he assures Baekhyun, then presses the bottle to Baekhyun's cheek. Baekhyun smiles a little, his weary eyes softening at the corners and his lips tugging up in response. "You just look like one."

Baekhyun looks around for an audience. They can't possibly be alone in this hallway, not when they're a the ground floor and there are at least a fifty people still roaming the building and walking down the corridors. But it's mostly silent. There's the growing sound of footsteps from a few feet away, but other than that it's just the two of them and Baekhyun's heavy breathing. Just him and Baekhyun and the soft rustling of Baekhyun's clothes when he shifts in his position and faces Myungsoo.

He rests a hand on Myungsoo's hip. Too familiar, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. Too risky, he says in return, but only in his head. Baekhyun doesn't need to hear it anymore; he knows that. He's looking at either side of them from time to time and pulling Myungsoo closer but still keeping a decent distance between them. His feet are lined up, one in front of the other, and he's craning his neck again. And Myungsoo just keeps his eyes on the bridge of Baekhyun's nose, drinking up every ounce of self-control to keep his gaze from dropping to the giving bow of Baekhyun's mouth.

The footsteps stop. The last step echoes in the hall. Baekhyun pulls away and drops his hand to his side. The loss of warmth has Myungsoo craving – for a piece of Baekhyun, for less space between then, for time alone – but Baekhyun hasn't looked away yet. He can still see himself in Baekhyun's eyes, can still make out the small, knowing smile at the corners of Baekhyun's lips.

"Later," Baekhyun whispers, then slumps beside Myungsoo against the wall. Myungsoo exhales, long and loud, eyes falling shut and throws his head back against the flat surface. He shivers all over. "Later–"

"Myungsoo?" comes a familiar voice. Myungsoo gulps hard. He doesn't open his eyes yet. The footsteps grow even louder, draw closer, and Baekhyun's tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Hey, Myungsoo, I– I never thought I'd see you here."

He opens his eyes. He takes his sweet time, still unwilling to refocus his vision, to part with the darkness, still unwilling to be brought back to this moment. It was warm just a few seconds ago, in the silence he shared with Baekhyun, but now a thick blanket of cold drapes over him and makes his knees shake. His fingers are cold. His toes are, too. And his stomach is turning. It's not the same lurch that Baekhyun's heavy gaze brings, or the tiny tumble that his stomach makes when Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him as if he's looking for a specific answer, but it does numb his limbs. It makes his throat go dry. It's strong enough to stun him for a few seconds, then knock back the air in his lungs with a violent pat on the back.

"Hey," he finally says in acknowledgement. He pushes himself off the wall and straightens up. "It's been a while, Woohyun."

Five years, to be exact. It's been five years since they've last been this close, since he's last seen Woohyun, really seen him with ample lighting and hadn't run away at the first sign of Woohyun. He caught a glimpse of him in the exhibit months ago, but that was just a tuft of hair. It could've been anyone. It could've just been Myungsoo imagining things because he has the most insane fantasies sometimes. He's been told that. Woohyun told him that before – 'Get real, Soo. I mean– Gay idols never make it big in the industry. If they find out that we're– That we had something going on then they might–' Deep, shaky breath, then, 'You do know that I've been dreaming about this all my life, right?'

"Five years," Woohyun whispers. He takes a step forward. Myungsoo matches it with a step to the side, inching further away from Woohyun. "I... went to your exhibit. Even saw Hoya. We... sort of did some catching up and he said you were away that time when I dropped by–"

He went to have lunch with Sunggyu in Gangnam that time. Met Baekhyun and talked with him for the very first time. Hadn't looked back ever since. He laughs a little, at himself, at the whole situation. Beside him, Baekhyun makes a weird gurgling sound at the back of his throat.

"Ah yeah, I think I went out to have lunch with hyung then."

Woohyun furrows his eyebrows. "Hyung? You mean Sunggyu? You two finally–"

Baekhyun slaps him in his side. Just with the back of his hand, nothing that hurts so much. It seems more like a knee-jerk reaction that anything else, more of reminder that Sunggyu's probably close to getting out of the parking lot, close to dialing Myungsoo's number to tell them to head to the back door. It stings a bit, though, with fatigue making Myungsoo more aware of the pain. He doesn't look to his side to address Baekhyun. "Sat down for lunch, yeah. It's been a while. I... haven't exactly been the best friend since I started working with Red Balloon."

Woohyun laughs a little. His nose does that funny twitch – still does that weird action that always catches Myungsoo off-guard. "Ah, that crazy job of yours. I've heard nothing but bad things."

"I learned a lot when I was still in prod."

"I bet you did," Woohyun says. He nods, slow and deliberate, then meets Myungsoo's gaze. "Pretty sure you did."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. If there's something about Woohyun that he hates the most, it's Woohyun's ability to look at someone like nothing, no one else in this world matters. It starts with a twitch of the lip, a twist to the side, a peculiar kind of smile that is Woohyun's and no one else's. Then Woohyun narrows his eyes a little as if he's trying to make out the finer details of Myungsoo's face, like there's nothing else that he'd rather do at the moment but to study Myungsoo's features. And then he takes another step forward. He's reaching out, hands slowly inching closer to Myungsoo's–

And then Myungsoo's phone is buzzing in his pocket. And then his ringtone is blaring in the entire corridor, filling the long stretch of space with sound. And then he feels someone tug at the hem of his shirt, just a tiny jerk of his entire body that knocks back the air in his lungs.

"I have to take this," Myungsoo says. He takes a step back at the same time that Woohyun does. He feels something warm against his skin, then a familiar pair of hands on his waist. He sinks into the touch even before he can look over his shoulder. He knows this warmth. He's spent the past few months memorizing it, falling asleep in the cab to its embrace. He knows the voice saying 'pick it up', as well, knows whose lips are pressed to the shell of his ear even before his entire body can process this – Woohyun just twelve inches away, the steady buzzing in his pocket. Baekhyun reminding him to 'pick up the phone, Soo, or else hyung will sock us in the balls.'

He fishes for his phone in his pocket and presses the green call button. "Sorry. We're on our way there," he says as soon as he picks up. On the other end of the line, Sunggyu grunts in acknowledgement. To Woohyun, Myungsoo says, "Our ride's here."

He can hear Baekhyun's tiny laugh spilling from his lips. Our ride. Sunggyu's their savior for today. He makes a mental note to thank Sunggyu later. Beside him, Baekhyun says, "Sorry, we really have to leave now. Hyung's going to kill us if we take another minute to move."

Woohyun tilts his head a little, furrowing his eyebrows. He looks at Baekhyun from head to toe as if studying him, assessing him. It's impossible that they haven't met before. They work for the same company. They must have bumped into each other somehow, or maybe passed each other while moving from one practice session to another. Baekhyun can recite all the names of the trainees in alphabetical order if he wanted to. Maybe Woohyun can do that, too; his memory's impeccable. But with Woohyun's busy schedule and Baekhyun holing himself up in the practice rooms all the time, they probably missed each other far too many times. Maybe Woohyun turned his attention to the other side of the corridor a second too soon, or Baekhyun changed directions and went to the bathroom instead of grabbing a drink from the vending machine. It happens – just like there are forced pulling two people together, there are also forces that push them further away from each other.

"He means Sunggyu, right?" Woohyun says after a while. He looks at Baekhyun again, squinting his eyes a little. "Byun Baekhyun, SM's rising star?"

Baekhyun's eyes widen. His grip on Myungsoo's waist tightens, but relaxes when Myungsoo sneaks his hand atop Myungsoo's own. Baekhyun is still Baekhyun, despite his unfounded courage. He still gets a bit shocked when people call him SM's next star, still gets a bit starstruck when he's faced with SM's biggest stars. And his touch is still warm, still conscious of the press of their bodies, because soon Baekhyun's threading their fingers together in a light lock.

"That's me," Baekhyun says. He puffs out his chest. Myungsoo moves forward a little, pulling away, but Baekhyun doesn't let his hand go just yet. A few more seconds, then Baekhyun inches away, the string of their fingers finally falling loose. Then he extends his hand in Woohyun's direction, offers him his brightest, warmest smile. "And you're... Nam Woohyun. One of SM's biggest starts this decade. I look forward to working with you someday."

Don't fake it, Myungsoo wants to say, wants to pull up the corners of Baekhyun's lips because he looks weird with that tense smile of his. It's the type of smile that goes to the bank of rejected photos. It's unsettling. But he doesn't say a word. Instead, he steps to his side, moving away from Woohyun's perimeter and closer to the open space where they should be heading. He watches Woohyun with a careful gaze. There's a voice at the back of his head, saying, asking, demanding for something from Woohyun, but he shushes that voice. Tells himself to shut up, Myungsoo. There's a conversation going on in front of him and he knows better than to interrupt. If there's something he's learned from Sunggyu, it's this: always be on your best behavior when you're around Baekhyun. Everything that he does will reflect on his friend, after all. Baekhyun's an idol. He shouldn't be the reason for Baekhyun's fall from grace.

Woohyun gives him a cursory glance, then reaches for Baekhyun's hand. He gives it a light squeeze but lets go quickly. He takes a few steps back, then, and digs his hands into his pockets. "You should get going," Woohyun says soon after, cocking his head in the direction of the exit. "Sunggyu's waiting."

Myungsoo nods. He gives Woohyun a curt bow, then answers, "Right. We'll be off."

Woohyun leans in, lips poised to say something, but soon he's jerking back and shutting his mouth again. Then he shakes his head and tells them to go, go on, leave before he changes his mind and reaches for Myungsoo's wrist so he can pull him close through the loud exhale he lets out. He doesn't say it but it's there in the way Woohyun hasn't looked elsewhere yet, in the fact that when Myungsoo looks over his shoulder just before they swing the doors open, he still catches Woohyun staring. Watching him leave. So Myungsoo presses on, closes the door behind him and slips inside Sunggyu's car as soon as he can. Here, in the darkness and silence of the enclosed space, he can breathe. Here, in the easy slide of Baekhyun's fingers between his, he can relax and not worry about the voices in his head getting the better of him. He listens for the tiny voice inside him, the one he's shushed from five years ago, and coaxes a small sound from it. He's saying something, like a prayer or a litany or lines upon lines of sentences he's long been wanting to say.

Woohyun's back. He's back. And Myungsoo's stomach is lurching again, the same old lurch that once screwed him up back in college and never quite left. And he hates himself for putting all his hard work to waste, all those years he's spent getting over whatever they didn't have and getting over himself just thrown out of the window to be carried away by the wind. It was supposed to end after graduation. He was supposed to start fresh in Red Balloon. Woohyun wasn't supposed to come waltzing back into the room with his knowing gaze and his soulful voice and his smile that has always been the key to making Myungsoo's knees go weak in a flash.

But what's done is done. And there's nothing Myungsoo can do about it. All he can do right now is to face his fears and then flush them all out of his system until he can develop another skin thick enough that the ghosts of his past cannot permeate it.

"Itaewon?" Sunggyu asks. His hand is hovering the play button.

"No. Just–" He balls his hands into fists. He can feel the shift of Baekhyun's muscles beside him, can feel Baekhyun's pulse on his skin. "Take us to the station. Then we can take a cab home."

"Are you sure?"

Myungsoo gulps hard. "Dead sure," he answers, voice crisp and clear. Only his hands are shaking. Without another word, Sunggyu turns up the stereo and drives off.

Sunggyu drops them off near a convenience store and reminds them to text him the plate number of their cab. Baekhyun takes care of the standard goodbyes – a tight hug, an assurance that they won't disappear from the face of the Earth, a promise that they will text him once they get a cab and get home. Myungsoo risks a glance at Sunggyu, though, locking eyes with him for a few seconds and then dropping his gaze to his feet.

"Thanks," he whispers just loud enough for Sunggyu to hear. "For not asking. And for knowing." He digs his nails into his skin. "And for saving me."

Sunggyu chuckles. "Don't be silly. I just have perfect timing," he says, then says his goodbye. Soon, his car is disappearing around the block, the engine noise fading into the night. And all that's left with Myungsoo is his things and Baekhyun's presence beside him, warm and steady.

He looks to his side and at Baekhyun, then extends his hand. His fingers are still trembling.

Baekhyun threads their fingers together and tightens his grip. The pads of his fingers are just as cold, but his palm is warm. So Myungsoo pulls Baekhyun closer and slips their intertwined hands in his coat pocket, hoping that they can share a bit of warmth in this open street. There's no one to tell them off here, no light to illuminate their features, only the darkness of the night and the cool winds to keep them company.

Myungsoo gives Baekhyun's hand a gentle squeeze. Baekhyun turns to his side, leans in to press a soft kiss to Myungsoo's temple. He doesn't let go.

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