rustle | infinite/exo: there's only one chance to take a picture (1/5)

「シャッターチャンスは一度だけ」 (there's only one chance to take a picture)
— Baekhyun/Myungsoo, Woohyun/Myungsoo, and some others. NC-17. 126395 words.
— frame one: myungsoo resigns from red balloon and agrees to doing an exhibit with howon. frame two: he bumps into sunggyu on opening day and promises to meet up with him again sometime soon. frame three: he meets byun baekhyun, SM's rising star. and frame four… there is no frame four. baekhyun has already messed up with the shot list and, consequently, myungsoo's life. (Warnings: brief mentions of homophobia, rimming, gratuitous amount of drama)
— Written for

cosmicfish in fulfillment of an

exorelieffund bid! Tanya, thank you SO MUCH for being so patient with me and I apologize that this fic 1) is too long, and 2) took too long to write. T__T I really, really hope you like this fic! As always, many thanks to tlist for all the support, especially to F, L, C, S, and A for the constant cheering. You've all been instrumental in keeping me sane. ♥

Some call it a culmination of all art endeavors. Myungsoo calls it an admission of defeat... and maybe a break from all the stress of being a slave to the whims of advertisers for five long years. It isn't much compared to the ten, fifteen years some of his officemates have devoted to being part of huge advertising productions, but then he's not trying to compete with anyone. Besides, no sane human being would ever think of working on a third batch of edits that the client won't pay for because, "C'mon, you love the brand, right? You've been working on it for years. C'mon, it's not as if turning black leggings into pink and making the talent look more 'humble' is difficult when you've already mastered Photoshop!" No sane person would attempt to pitch his new and fresh ideas on how to seamlessly integrate a product within a commercial knowing that the client will probably shoot it down 95% of the time and ask for mega branding. He learned that the hard way, in the half a decade he's spent wasting his life away with Red Balloon. It was his first job, his first time working in a production house. He promised it would be his last. On his first year, he still had hope that the hardsell way of doing ad photography was just a phase. On his second year, he'd begun to admit, bit by bit, that maybe there was no hope. On his third year, he decided to take freelance projects to help keep him sane, somehow. By the time he reached his fifth year, he'd already stopped hoping at all and just tried to make the best out of the client's subpar art directing skills. If he can't get through the clients with his fresh concepts then he can at least try to turn the client's shitty ideas from trash into gold.

He's one of those jaded production people now, too drained and strung out from work. He's at the brink of turning thirty. Old, if you ask most new and fresh advertising hopefuls, but still not a good age to get jaded just yet. He even made a time capsule on Seollal and promised never to go back to doing anything related to advertising ever again. It was that bad. He can be one of those starving freelance photographers and still be the happiest art enthusiast ever. He can be one of those poor purist art advocates and still feel contented with his life. He doesn't need money to survive.

He snorts. Runs a finger along the frame on the photograph he had blown up to 11x17. He'd cleaned the frame earlier, before the exhibit opened. He needed money to have the photo blown up. He needed money to buy a nice rubber cloth that he can also use for his other gadgets to keep them thumbprint-free. And he needed money to get from Ilsandong all the way to Gangnam because no sane person would walk from one side of the river to the other just to get to his own exhibit. So he needs money, maybe more than some people do. He needs it to support his artistic endeavors, to keep himself sane. He needs it to stay alive.

"And this is the only portrait from this particular photographer. Oh wait– It's the first in the series, my bad," he hears someone say over his shoulder. The voice sounds familiar, like a voice from one of those clips they had to clean up and edit at least five times. Or maybe one of those voices on the radio, one of the DJs he listens to on the regular, on his way to work. It's familiar enough that he recalls a distant memory when he closes his eyes, one of him loitering in the university grounds on a weekday. He'd be lugging around photography books in one arm, his camera cradled in the other. And the other man would be there to help him with his books because, 'I'm pretty scared for your camera, dude. Come on, let me help–'

"Oh, hey," Myungsoo whispers when he looks over his shoulder. He meets the man's gaze and studies the contours of his face. His eyes are still tiny, like he's always squinting and finding something interesting. His eyebrows are still thick, always furrowed. And the corners of his lips still have this tiny curl to them, like he's always poised to smile. He was born with a smiling face – yes, Myungsoo remembers saying that about this man. He also remembers the freckles the man once had back in college.

That was more than half a decade ago. He'd have forgotten if he could, but years of training to notice and remember the smallest of details has kept him from achieving that. He never forgets.

"Hey," says the other man. He takes a step closer, until the tips of their toes touch. "Didn't think you'd actually be here to entertain guests." He scratches the slope of his neck with a finger nail. Just one nail, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. Myungsoo laughs to himself. Some things never change. "Not that busy right now, eh?"

Myungsoo snorts. "Not anymore," he corrects. "Quit my job a month ago. Now I'm living on food coupons and whatever freelance projects I can do." He takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders fall forward, the tension in his muscles now lifting. The man opposite him laughs, his eyes turning into slits and the subtle smile on his lips prying his mouth open. "Nice seeing you again, hyung."

Sunggyu winks. "I did promise I'd be here, right? Besides–" Sunggyu straightens out his polo. He adjusts his tie, too. He looks like some marketing slave who may or may not be a bit too in love with his job. Myungsoo can't tell yet. It's been months since they've last seen each other, maybe even years. Myungsoo can't tell. Time creeps much slower when you're trapped in a job you no longer love. "–I wouldn't miss it for the world."

He's known Sunggyu for as long as he can remember. By that, he means ever since he started playing in the playground in Anyang-si, ever since he started watching people ride the swing in the park. He was one of the 'new kids' in the park. His parents never let him play with the kids outside until he was five, and it made sense that he didn't know any of the kids here. Everyone else who'd lined up for the swing had already paired off with someone else. So he was left alone, licking his ice cream in peaceful silence until it was his turn. He had no idea then that it would feel different if he'd just 'pushed' himself instead of someone else doing it for him. So he looked, felt pretty weird just playing with himself on the swing. "Look at him!" one of the other kids said. He was pointing at Myungsoo and laughing silly. Myungsoo wouldn't surrender his ice cream to the kid even if the kid tried to wrestle it out of his hands. "He doesn't have friends!" the kid screamed. "Look, he doesn't have friends–"

And then came Sunggyu rushing to his aid, telling him, "Kid, you better finish your ice cream first. Then I'll push you in the swing, okay?"

Myungsoo did as he was told, hastily slurping the last few bits of ice cream on his cone. He broke the cone into tiny pieces for easier consumption, then slipped the tissue that he'd held the cone with in his pocket. He turned to Sunggyu, then, mouth still stuffed with crumbled pieces of the wafer cone as he said, "You can push me now!"

Once he'd come down from the high, Sunggyu told him in a small voice, "That sounded more like 'you're a douche, how?'" He'd proclaimed Sunggyu his friend the same day. He also learned what the word 'douche' meant, and swore to Sunggyu never to use it on anyone until he was a teenager.

"Hey," comes Sunggyu's voice now, jostling him out of his trance. He jerks back a little and blinks a few times. "I make time for you in my busy schedule and this is how you repay me?" Sunggyu rolls his eyes, but the smile on his lips isn't lying. There are pros and cons to having a resting smiling face. On the pros: Sunggyu always looks approachable, amiable and amicable. He rarely gets into fights.

On the cons, Myungsoo muses as he curls his fingers on the cuff of Sunggyu's polo to pull him close for a hug: It makes memories of the past all too easy to recall. It makes it difficult to flush down the overwhelming, consuming feeling of wanting to bury his face in Sunggyu's neck. It makes it nigh impossible to move on.

ミ☆

They have dinner at a food cart parked a few blocks away. Sunggyu calls it their midnight snack, but then Myungsoo only had crackers for dinner. Trying to have a proper meal was hard when he had guests to entertain and humor. So he suggested having sumptuous dinner, something really filling, at a restaurant nearby, but then everything except the convenience store was already closed by the time they'd left the exhibit. Then there was the fact that Sunggyu hated instant food. "Picky eater," Myungsoo grumbled in thoughtless retaliation. Sunggyu stuck out his tongue at him and said, "Whatever. I'm paying, anyway."

So when Myungsoo accidentally gets gochujang on his freshly laundered shirt, he blames it on Sunggyu. He shivers when he feels the heat of the liquid seep through the material, when it prickles his skin. Sunggyu offers to buy him another serving of tteokbokki and pajeon as a peace offering. Myungsoo snorts and rolls his eyes. He doesn't say no.

Fifteen minutes after and they're still there, backs pressed against the wall just a few spaces away from the cart. The lady dips a new batch of odeng into the broth and Sunggyu makes a small sound of approval at the back of his throat. Myungsoo laughs a little, then, and nudges Sunggyu in his side. Years ago, back in college, Sunggyu hated odeng because it reminded him of nothing but his wild drinking nights.

Years after and here he is, swaying from side to side to the music of the boiling of the broth, bubbles popping just as soon as they appear.

"You're so weird," Myungsoo whispers. Sunggyu cocks and eyebrow at him, so he amends, "You're so weird, hyung."

"I really missed this. It's been a while since I last had–" He licks the gochujang on his lips, the corners of his mouth, then swallows piece of tteok he'd been chewing for the past minute. "–food like this. Happy food. You'd think that working with celebrities will give you more opportunity to each yummy food, but no." He shakes his head, takes a small bite of the new tteok he'd pierced with his toothpick. "All I've been eating is potato chips. Pretty soon, I'll turn into a potato."

"A potato chip, you mean," Myungsoo replies, voice dropping to a whisper. Sunggyu catches that, though, and slaps him hard on the arm and then erupts into a peal of laughter. "See? Weird–"

"This feels a lot like college," Sunggyu whispers. He wiggles his eyebrows and shifts in his position, facing Myungsoo now. His eyes are squinted, focused, like he's trying to figure something out. Like he's looking for something – a furrow of the eyebrow, crinkles at the corners of Myungsoo's eyes because he's supposed to be laughing alone. Or maybe Myungsoo just looks funny and Sunggyu's still stuck in that moment where he's weighing the consequences of laughing at Myungsoo silly. It could mean anything. Years of knowing each other makes reading facial expressions easier, but then he hasn't seen Sunggyu in years. Sunggyu's been busy managing talents and Myungsoo's been busy making everyone look good on video and print. They've both been doing their own adult thing. Life does that to you sometimes, pushes you away from people and pushes you to your limit. He won't even take it against Sunggyu if the latter forgot when his birthday is. It's no big deal.

"You remember, right? When we'd go have lunch by a food cart when we were still in college?" Sunggyu continues. He hasn't stopped swaying from side to side yet. It's as if he's a pendulum and Myungsoo can't bring himself to look away. "I was a senior then and you were just a kid–"

And there was one other person with them, someone just as tiny as Sunggyu but whose voice made him seem so much bigger, larger than life. Myungsoo recalls that time when the Music Production students held a concert in the cafeteria. It was finals week then, and part of the finals requirement for music students was to perform in a place with crappy acoustics. Myungsoo had his fair share of plates and take home exams to work on. He was accomplishing exercises at the speed of five items a day, which was fast compared to the speed of his other coursemates. He spent all his breaks in the cafeteria, hoping to focus on his work. He even had his earphones plugged to drown out the noise, but somehow the music the bands were playing always permeated the thin shield Myungsoo had put up between the world and himself. So he did the next best thing: stay at a part of the cafeteria that the sunlight didn't quite reach.

Music would always find him, though, reach out to him in ways that he could not imagine. One hour in and he had already given into the allure of the band performing on stage. The second hour, he'd managed to cross off two items from his list of five. His worst performance yet. He could've done better without music as a distraction, Ten minutes after that, he unplugged his earphones altogether and shifted in his seat so that he was facing the stage and not his laptop.

And then the vocalist on stage looked at him straight in the eye, didn't look away until the song was over. He took a deep breath, balled his hands into fists. Shifted his gaze back to his laptop when the vocalist said that that was their last song and walked down the stage to walk in Myungsoo's direction.

"–and we are not talking about college, hyung," Myungsoo grumbles now, narrowing his eyes at Sunggyu. The lady at the cart calls him, saying, 'hey kid,' and he takes that as his cue to escape. "More eating, less reminiscing. Respect your food."

Sunggyu rolls his eyes in response. He sinks his teeth in another piece of tteok and doesn't say anything else.

The silence dissolves into Sunggyu bringing up a couple of his new projects. He's replacing SNSD's manager for a while, until the original one returns from his break. He's handling a new group called Red Velvet and making sure they don't get into any weird scandals at the start of their career. "And then there's this solo artist who's debuting in less than the year. I just got wind about it from the management this morning. He's as raw as far as being a 'raw talent' is concerned. The… guy who won in The Voice of Korea? Heard of him?" he continues. Myungsoo shakes his head. He hasn't had free time to do anything prior to resigning other than to breathe. Sunggyu sips a bit of the clear soup the lady gave them, free of charge. "I've met him a few times before last month, when he was still practicing with the group that debuted two years ago. He hasn't changed a bit." Sunggyu smiles little. "Some change quickly when they hear news about debuting. This guy's still… pretty 'chill' about everything."

Myungsoo just out his bottom lip. It must suck to get left behind just like that. Sunggyu doesn't seem to mind, though, rattling on about a few more things, mostly about picking up old projects. Myungsoo responds with soft laughter. "You like the constancy, alright."

"It's not bad," Sunggyu argues.

"Not saying it is," Myungsoo says in defense. "How long have you been with SM again? Ten years? Twenty?" He takes a sip of his soup and scalds his tongue. Karma in the form of a burnt tongue. It isn't fair. "Thirty?"

"Just eight. Don't exaggerate," Sunggyu mumbles. He sticks out his tongue. It burns the brightest shade of red. Myungsoo snorts at that – at least he isn't alone. "And I love my job, that's all. I get to meet a lot of good people. It pays the bills and my trips." On his first year managing SM groups, he managed to buy his parents a house. Halfway through his second year, he got himself a car. Come the end of his second year, he took the whole family on a European trip. So it more than just 'pays the bills' and his trips. His job keeps him sane and alive.

Myungsoo scoffs, laughs a little. If he could say the same for himself, then it would be great. But the reality is that resigning from his senior post at the production house is the best thing that has happened to him in the past decade. The best and most courageous thing that he has ever done, too, next to calling an idea 'stupid' in front of the client.

"You think I have a future as an SM manager, hyung?" Myungsoo asks. "Replace you when you decide to retire? I heard they're offering early retirement–"

Sunggyu seethes. "Maybe in your dreams, kid," he replies, then kicks Myungsoo in the calf. "Not in this lifetime. But–"

Sunggyu furrows his eyebrows a little, but there's none of the serious look he usually wears. He narrows at eyes at Myungsoo and all of a sudden Myungsoo feels like he's being tested, being called to the front of the class to answer a question that the professor shouldn't even be asking. He isn't even supposed to be in this class. He's supposed to be taking a cab to his place in Ilsandong, taking a quick shower and then diving into his bed face first. He's supposed to sleep in until ten in the morning, then head back to Gangnam for the second day of the exhibit in COEX. Rinse and repeat for the next five days until closing, then he'll have to fall into a new habit, develop a new routine. Pick up a new freelance project. Start living life after being dead for the past five years.

But then Sunggyu just had to drop by and drag Myungsoo out of his own exhibit for snacks by a food cart. It's like falling asleep with the tip of your felt-tip pen pressed to the paper and waking up to a nasty blot on it. Sunggyu's the wave of exhaustion hitting him smack in the middle of an exam and capitalizing on the silence, the slivers of white noise.

And Sunggyu's smiling a little now, pinching his bottom lip as he hums. After a while, he says, "Saw the portrait you included in the exhibit. The distorted one." He chuckles, then continues, "I was thinking, maybe you could work on something for SM–"

"No," Myungsoo interrupts, shaking his head. That one was a special case. He was in the park and the girl who was asking the ice cream vendor for more ice cream had the most peculiar smile. It wasn't the usual crescent or half-moon, neither was a big 'o'. It looked sort of like a box, except with unequal sides. It was so unique that he still kept his eyes on the little girl long after the ice cream vendor had given her free ice cream. So he gave into the urge to snap a picture of her, twisted his lens and zoomed out at the same time that he clicked the shutter release. The result was an image that was sort of blurred at the sides. The child's smile shone through, though, popped out in all its focused and crisp glory against the blurred background.

"But the one in the exhibit–"

"Is a special case. And it's a man-on-the-street kind of thing."

"The behind-the-scenes for the perfume brand? The one in the album you uploaded to your portfolio three days ago?"

Myungsoo snorts. Stalker, he wants to say, but that's not the answer Sunggyu's looking for. And he knows better than to bullshit the person closest to him right now both in terms of physical and emotional distance. "I needed money. Also, behind-the-scenes."

"McDonald's latest print ad, then? You shot the talent against–"

"A dynamic background. We shot that in the store." Myungsoo takes a deep breath. "No studio shoots for me, hyung. I'm done with those. I won't go back there."

What he means is, I don't want to go back to that dark place. The four corners of the studio make him feel as if the whole world's closing in on him and making him focus on one thing and one thing alone. Forcing him to make that single point of focus the center of his life. It's not good practice. It's overwhelming, consuming.

And then there's the harsh studio lights exposing every single flaw in your features. White light can only be so flattering on certain types of faces. Myungsoo has proven it so many times that white light only highlights his faults all the more.

Sunggyu laughs a little and shakes his head. "It's that bad, huh? Until now?"

Myungsoo looks up from where he's been staring at his feet. He fixes his eyes on his food for a while. It's getting cold. It's safe to eat the once scorching hot tteokbokki now. He won't hurt himself anymore.

"Always," he answers, then sinks his teeth in a slice of tteok. Sunggyu tilts his head, trying to meet his gaze, then eats the last slice of fish cake on his plate. He coughs when the gochujang goes down the wrong pipe.

They eat in peaceful silence and share the last plate of tteokbeokki that Sunggyu orders from the lady. A group of drunk teenagers joins them by the stall minutes after, ordering all sorts of things – the fresh batch of odeng the lady has just finished cooking, pajeon, sundae. Goguma sticks that they also dip in gochujang. Myungsoo looks to his side and watches the teenagers eat the strange food with morbid fascination. He watches as one of the teenagers slaps his friend's arm, watches as said friend turns around and assaults the offender with tickles. They keep at their little game until the offender's back hits the wall, until the tips of their noses touch. Until they catch their breath and catch sight of each other too close.

"Teens these days," Sunggyu mumbles against the slice of tteok between his lips. Myungsoo shakes his head and steals the last piece of tteok from the plate, taking soft nibbles of it. He doesn't tear his eyes from the scene yet, even as the friend jerks back, putting space between him and the offender. Even as the teenagers nudge each other in their sides and then throw an arm around each other, one around the shoulder and the other around the waist.

From a corner of his eye, he sees Sunggyu looking at him. He doesn't meet Sunggyu's gaze and keeps watching.

ミ☆

Myungsoo steps under the spray and closes his eyes. Warm water hits his face like an old friend, cascading down his cheeks. He tilts his head even more and runs his fingers through his hair. He can still feel the upward pull on the corners of his lips from when he'd laughed too hard at one of Sunggyu's really bad jokes. He can still feel the dull ache in his ribs from where Sunggyu had hit him with his elbow. And he can still smell the scent of cooking oil and gochujang and grill at the tips of his hair. Can still taste it on his lips long after he's stopped eating.

It's been a while since he's last stayed out late for something not work-related. Granted, he'll still make profit out of selling his photos in the exhibit, but it isn't the same as spending fourteen hours in the studio doing nothing but turning the talent's yellow shirt into pink. His body feels like it's been through twelve hours of overtime, but his mind is still perfectly awake. Heck, he can go out into the streets and snap photos of whatever he finds interesting. Process it in his dark room, then frame it using one of those unused frames in his studio. Or maybe mount it on Sintra board to match style they'd used in the exhibit. Another photo to sell, something to give him more money.

He hasn't mounted a photo on his own in a while, but it's never too late to relearn old tricks. If he could pick up a camera after staying away from it for months then it should be easy tacking a photo to a sturdy board properly.

He turns the shower down a little. He reaches for his shampoo, then, and pours a generous amount into his palm. He laughs to himself, realizing that it's been a while since he actually kept track of the amount of shampoo he used on his hair. Bathing was such a robotic routine when he was still working in the studio. He could even go for days without bathing and not be grossed out by it. Now, just the thought of it makes him berate himself. He's never going down that route ever again.

He spends a good thirty minutes in the shower before stepping out. The cool air in the room hits him harder than it should, and he seethes when feels a shiver crawl down his spine. He sees his phone blinking out of the corner of his eye, but he pulls a shirt over his head first before checking what it is. Two messages, both from the same unknown number. tnx for tonight, really had fun. super stuffed and can't sleep! i hate you :(, the first message says. sorry i was using my corporate line. your favorite hyung here kekeke - sunggyu :), says the second.

Then his phone beeps again, just a short, shrill note that makes him shudder. He should change to something more hearing-friendly sometime. He remembers Sungjong, one of his co-workers, recommending the tone to him so that he'd never miss a text from their bosses. There's no need for that anymore, though, no need for him to be on his toes all the fucking time. He's way past that stage and is moving on to a better phase of his life.

That's one thing crossed off his bucket list. He only has three items listed. Number two reads, 'Earn my first billion before I reach thirty.' Then number three, 'Be a child again. Let loose. Move the fuck on.'

any chance we can have lunch tomorrow? since we're on the same side of the river for the first time in a long time, says Sunggyu's text.

This is it, a voice at the back of his mind says. This is step one or point-five to crossing off number three on list list. All the important guests already came to the exhibit tonight, during the opening. He's already sold three of the seven photos he's showcasing in the exhibit. It wouldn't hurt to spare an hour or two to catch up with an old friend, right? Try to dig up things about the past and laugh at them instead of rolling his eyes at the mere memory? So he types, yea sure, as long as ur paying ;), in reply, then drops his phone to his side so he can towel down his hair.

Sunggyu's text comes in ten minutes after, possibly typed while half-asleep. k fin whtanevr, it says. Myungsoo shakes his head in response, then giggles. He buries his face in the sheets, falling forward and submitting himself to a fit of laughter.

He wakes up hours after, with a dull ache in his lower back, with sunlight tickling his skin. It's seven in the morning, thirty minutes before his alarm is set to go off. An hour before his favorite coffee shop in Sinsa opens. He stretches his arms overhead and gets up, nonetheless, relishing the push and pull of his muscles inside him, the violent upward tug on his cheeks.

Operation 'cross off all items on the bucket list' starts now.

ミ☆

Myungsoo waves at Howon over his shoulder and promises, "I'll be back!" It's half past twelve noon on his clock right now, and he promised Sunggyu he'd be at Sinsadong by one. It's a relatively quick trip from COEX to that part of Gangnam, though – a fifteen-minute walk if he decides to go by foot, a five-minute cab ride if he's feeling lazy. So really, even if he walks extra slowly or spends a good five minutes deciding on how he'll get there, he won't be late.

The elevator gives off a song 'ding!' He walks past the doors and makes his way to the main entrance. Maybe he should just take a cab. The snow is thick out here and winds are blowing hard. Maybe five years ago, he could've braved the cold weather and walked fifteen long minutes to his destination, but he's nearing thirty now. Twenty-eight, to be exact. His knees can only withstand so much in this type of weather.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He'd turned off his alert tone earlier. Maybe over lunch, he can have Sunggyu pick out a more professional-sounding yet attention-grabbing one. Maybe–

He squints hard as he reads the message that has just come in. fuck i jammed my– And then it's all white space after that, static if he was on the phone with Sunggyu. His phone gives off another shrill beep, and in comes the continuation of the message. –my foot into the vendo hit the toe really hard IM BLEDNG

if this is ur excuse for not wanting 2 c me then it's really bad hyung, he types in reply. He takes a step back, though, leaning against the cool wall feet away from the sliding doors. He looks around, then adds, seriously tho u alright?

It takes a while before Sunggyu replies. Five minutes, to be exact, the longest Myungsoo has had to wait for any sort of response from Sunggyu. He isn't the worrying type, but when he gets messages that have mentions of blood and getting into an accident, no matter how hilarious, he can't help but feel a bit uneasy. Sunggyu has never been the clumsy type, after all, always extra careful with what he does to the point of being so averse to spontaneity. Once, it rained so hard in the middle of spring and that threw off all their plans for the photograph club's hike. Sunggyu threw a fit, but only in the club room and away from the watchful eyes of the club members. Then after the event, once they'd gotten down from the slippery mountain, he promised to throw a party for the success of their photograph hike. "Thank you very much and thank you, destiny, for keeping us alive!" Everybody knew that it was their safety that Sunggyu wanted to celebrate, not the fact that they were still able to take shots of birds at the peak. The good photos they took were just a plus.

yeah m alive, Sunggyu says via text. A heartbeat, and then another message comes in. think you can come to sm instead? sorry bro really wanted to take you to this nice place in sinsa

"Do I have a choice?" Myungsoo mutters. He pulls his scarf up, burying his nose in it. He blows hot air into the small cocoon he's made in an effort to keep himself warm. He looks around the area one last time before walking past the doors, leaving the mall grounds and hailing a cab for himself. He doesn't miss the familiar face on a standee for a make up brand, though, or the poster covering one whole pillar, a huge roll of paper that carries the face of an old friend.

He arrives at the SM building ten minutes and too many inches of snow after. He makes sure to give the cab driver a tip and bows to the old man before turning on his heel. Winter in Seoul is more ruthless this year, bringing more than just a few flecks of snow with it. In the short walk from where he'd been dropped off and the entrance of the building, he collects snow on his coat and his hair. When he stops midway through to brush off the flecks that have collected on his bangs, he only succeeds in getting more everywhere else. He lunges, then, covering the last few feet with a couple of steps.

He ruffles his hair, ridding it of snow completely, then turns to the security at the door. "I'm here to see Kim Sunggyu. He can't come down, though. He... injured his foot," he explains, and the man lets out a soft laugh in response.

"He mentioned having a friend come over," the man says. "Your I.D., sir?"

"No need for that," comes another voice from a few feet away. It's rough around the edges, but at the same time there a hint of sweetness to it. Like a curl at the end of his speech, a lilt in his voice that ripples through the short sentence. A bright flash of light. Overexposed.

Myungsoo squints. He blinks a few times, refocusing his vision until the features of the stranger becomes clearer in his eyes. Light brown hair, bright eyes, a grin to the side, albeit tight-lipped. Eye bags the size of craters. He can give Sunggyu a run for his money with the nasty dark circles under his eyes, but then that's not the type of competition trainees in SM Entertainment fancy. They like sing-offs, dance showdowns. High note and range challenges. Winning against another trainee in the hope that that victory can bring them one step closer to debuting.

He laughs to himself. He catches the faint stubble on the man's chin. Isn't he a bit too old to still be a trainee, though?

"Well, at least you've made my life easier by looking like a carbon copy of yourself in the pictures." The man continues. He laughs a little, walking closer and flashing a wallet-sized picture to the security like he's flashing his badge. That isn't even him in the picture – it's Myungsoo, during his younger years, a photo of him undoubtedly taken during his college years. He wore his hair like any fan of EXO would – he was sporting an undercut and had his hair dyed a bright red. Changed the color two months after to 'white gold', or whatever it was called. It was atrocious. "Kim Myungsoo, right? Sunggyu-hyung sent me to fetch you. He ordered pizza for us and made me buy ice cream as a peace offering for making you come here on short notice."

Myungsoo gulps hard and nods, still taking in the information. This man speaks too fast. His voice is so jumpy, every end of a syllable a preparation for a surprise.

"Uh, yeah, that's me," he replies. He presses his lips together, then asks, "And... you are?"

The stranger taps the bond paper-sized tag stuck to his shirt. "This is me," he answers, pointing at the characters written on it. "I'm glad they let me use my real name as my stage name, to be honest. Some people have to suffer the consequences of having a hideous stage name tacked to their shirts like this." He pinches the bond paper on his shirt, the pressure creating creases on the paper. Myungsoo feels his nose twitch, a movement so subtle that he wouldn't have caught it if the man in front of him didn't cock an eyebrow at him in response. "Though it would have been great if they let me use 'Babehyun'. Wishful thinking or something, I dunno."

"Not age-appropriate," says the security. Babehyun – Baekhyun, Myungsoo corrects in his mind – snorts at him and nudges him in his side. "You're not as young as the other trainees, kid. You can't get away with silly stage names."

"And yet you call me 'kid.'"

"And the reality is that you're still old." He drawls the last sound, like advancing in age is a bad thing. It isn't all the time. Age lends you knowledge and credibility. In some instances, the gift of foresight to avoid the lectures ending in 'I told you so'. "You've got a friend waiting here. Better take him to your leader."

Baekhyun's laughter trails off into the last 'ha' before fading out into a thick sheet of silence. Then a flash of something washes over him, turns the quirked up corners of his lips into a tight frown and pulls down at his cheeks. The light filtering from outside dwindles into freckles of sunshine just barely touching Baekhyun's cheeks. Suddenly, he looks ten years older, more worn out by the long hours than honed and made better by it. Shadows creep up from his neck to his cheeks, hollowing them out. His shoulders fall forward like a cape of fatigue has been draped on them. Myungsoo takes a step back, then, and watches Baekhyun shake it off with a shrug. And then it's gone, replaced instead with the same look he'd worn earlier – bright eyes, a tight-lipped smile. A standard idol look patented by SM Entertainment.

"We should get going," Baekhyun murmurs. He looks up at Myungsoo and gives him a small bow. "Sorry for making you wait. Come, I'll take you to where hyung is."

Myungsoo feels his eyebrows twitch. His throat goes dry. He nods in response and follows Baekhyun to the elevator, stepping in side as soon as the latter passes through the doors.

He's no stranger to the SM building. He's been here exactly three times, and on all occasions he went here for Sunggyu. The first time he went here, he was carrying a package that Sunggyu 'accidentally' had shipped to his house. He can still remember the weird look on the delivery man's face when Myungsoo opened the box in front of him to check the contents of the box. There were all sorts of toys, and not exactly the ones for kids. "Have fun, sir?" said the delivery man, then bowed before turning on his heel to dash out of the scene.

you were lonely. thought you'd enjoy some company kekeke HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!, Sunggyu said via text when Myungsoo asked him about the 'present'. Myungsoo left the box with the security at the entrance and labeled the box 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM SUNGGYU. XOXO YOUR SECRET ADMIRER'. Karma hit Sunggyu ten times harder when he made the mistake of opening the box in the van while waiting for the group he was managing. He jerked back when the box toppled over and the sex toys spilled on the floor. Then he sent Myungsoo a text saying, okay we should look for some charity we can donate these things to.

y hyung ur not lonely? Myungsoo said in reply. Sunggyu's response was an an affectionate, fuck you :D

The other two times weren't any different, except he'd left real presents for Sunggyu's birthday that time. A book and some snacks from a company trip to Malaysia. Fridge magnets from Brazil. Some other things that he found himself buying because 'hyung might like this' or 'oh hey, he'd like this'. He still buys two pairs of the same design for socks because that guy from his past loves it when they wear identical socks. It's the closest they could get to openly wearing couple clothing despite not being a 'couple'. And it was one of the harder habits to break.

"You've got snow in your hair–" Myungsoo hears now, his whole body jerking back to reality. Then he sees Baekhyun lean in reaching out to flick something off his hair.

He gulps hard. He can feel his throat tightening, his chest constricting. Baekhyun is close, a bit loo close for comfort. Close enough that he can see that Baekhyun's eyelashes are short and that he has the cutest nose, close enough that he can see the spot of red blooming on his cheek. Close enough that Baekhyun's whispered 'hah' reaches his ears, sends a shiver shown his spine. It settles on the small of his back and numbs his muscles a little.

A light stream of air that Baekhyun blows to Myungsoo's bangs, then he pulls away with an easy smile. It's no longer tight at the corners and his cheeks are no longer stiff, but his lips are still pressed thinly together like he's keeping himself from saying something. Maybe body language gives Baekhyun away and he makes up for the trouble caused by his limbs by keeping quiet. Maybe this is part of SM's training – making people think that they know the idols just by studying the way they move.

Or maybe he's just thinking too much. He's just met Baekhyun. No need to snap a picture of every single quirk of his body and study it all at once.

They reach the eighth floor not too long after. Baekhyun hums a little on their way to the practice room, bobbing his head in tiny movements in tandem with his steps. Myungsoo keeps his hands in his pockets, meanwhile, the cold finally leaving his fingertips.

The practice room is exactly how it looks like in most of SM's practice videos. There's a sky wallpaper on one side, a wall of mirrors on the other three. There isn't much in the room, just a long bench and a stereo on the floor near the socket. Sunggyu's on the bench, one leg outstretched and the other dangling from his seat. He has his eyebrows furrowed in concentration at whatever he's doing on his phone. So Myungsoo keeps his steps quiet, calculated, sneaking from behind and ignoring the way Baekhyun rolls his eyes at him.

"Really now, Candy Crush?" Myungsoo whispers into Sunggyu's ear, and Sunggyu jerks back. "After all this time?"

Sunggyu narrows his eyes at him and socks him in the gut with his elbow. Myungsoo pulls away, then, a bit remorseful, but Sunggyu doesn't let him. He reaches out for Myungsoo, balls his hand into a fist in Myungsoo's shirt and jabs Myungsoo in the arm with his free hand. Each repetition is harder than the previous, but it doesn't hurt much. At most, it leaves a dull ache in Myungsoo's muscles when he finally frees himself from Sunggyu's grip, when he gets the opportunity to move outside Sunggyu's perimeter. At worst, it numbs Sunggyu's fighting hand, makes his fingers tremble.

"Sorry for fighting you, grandpa. You started it," Myungsoo says, offering Sunggyu a pat on the back. Sunggyu shrugs his shoulders and responds with a glare, but the corners of his eyes are soft. He isn't squinting. He's just looking at Myungsoo like he's both apologizing and saying, 'Hey, glad you're around. Glad you could still make it despite all the shit–' "How's your toe, though? Still bleeding?"

"Everything hurts," Sunggyu groans. He gestures at his raised leg, then, and Myungsoo traces the length of Sunggyu's limb with his gaze. His big toe literally sticks out like a sore thumb, too red and imposing compared to the rest of his toes. His foot is a bit swollen, as well, the veins drawing squiggly green and red lines on his skin. Now, Myungsoo can't tell if Sunggyu had been concentrating on the game earlier or if he was concentrating on getting the pain out of his system. Complaining is the last thing he'd do, after all. It isn't in his nature.

"Vendo machine got in your way, huh? Didn't even step to the side to make way for you?"

Baekhyun scoffs. "How rude," he adds, drawling the last syllable. "Whatever have you done for it to cause you this much misery?"

By now, Baekhyun's shoulders are shaking and the steady, stoic look he once had in his features has dissipated. The corners of his eyes crinkle, and then he's laughing into the press of his palm to his lips. It's as if he's trying to gather the slivers of laughter spilling from the corners of his mouth, catching them in his hand one by one. Keeping it all to himself and hiding the funny lilts in his giggles. His voice cracks somewhere along the way, and his eyes widen in accord. His eyebrows slowly lift, a gradual rise to match the way his laughter fades out into thick white noise.

Myungsoo leans a bit closer, narrowing his eyes a little to study this look. It almost the same as the one Baekhyun wore earlier, except Myungsoo could see the thin stretch of his lips then. There's one shield up now, a thicker one compared to the many other walls Baekhyun has up – the way he forces his eyes to smile, or the way he undoes the knot of his eyebrows. The way he cracks his neck until the tension in his shoulders lifts. The way Baekhyun drops his hand in front, his other hand automatically cushioning the fall. And the way it takes three blinks, each a second apart, to bring back the standard, SM-patented idol look on his face.

Myungsoo feels his throat clench. He coughs. Only then does he realize that he's been holding his breath all this time and that the pads of his fingers have begun to get cold again.

Sunggyu gives Myungsoo's leg a light nudge, nothing that requires more than the subtle bump on the elbow to his side. Myungsoo feels the wind in his lungs rise to the base of his throat, then sink back down to plummet to the pit of his stomach. This is hunger, he registers. Convinces himself. He risks a glance at Baekhyun one last time and fixes the crooked smile on his lips.

"Anyway, the food? You know I just came here for free food."

Sunggyu addresses him with a long look, then cocks his head to the side. "Over there, table by the stereo. You can finish two boxes of pizza, right? Eating is no longer a foreign concept to you, yeah?"

Myungsoo chuckles. "Don't underestimate me, hyung," he replies. He walks over to where the boxes are and opens one of them. The scent of bread and meat and cheese fills his sense. "You don't know what I'm capable of."

ミ☆

What he's capable of, he realizes after splitting the last slice of pizza between himself and Baekhyun, is falling asleep mid-conversation with Sunggyu about cameras. It isn't anything serious – they weren't talking about business deals or any of Myungsoo's freelance projects, but he did drift off somewhere between Sunggyu mentioning wanting to buy a DSLR, "Or maybe just a compact one? One I can bring everyday, if I wanted to." He hears a distant sliver of voice, laced with lilts and humming, and for a moment he wonders if Baekhyun's always singing his lines. Or singing with his whole body. He loves slapping the back of his hand against his other palm when driving a point or trying to state his case. He taps his foot furiously when waiting for his turn to speak, like robbing him of airtime is the greatest sin man is capable of. And he takes long and deep breaths every ten seconds, inhaling as much air as he can before releasing it slowly by exhaling through his nose.

He jerks back, hitting the wall with the back of his head. He looks behind him to check for cracks on the mirror. There aren't any. To Sunggyu, he says, "Try the 1100D. I know it's old but it gets the job done really well. I kept mine until it gave up on me 250,000 shutter clicks after."

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him, looking up from what he's doing on his phone. From the music coming from the gadget, it sounds like he's just beaten a level of Candy Crush, but then there are a lot of derivatives of the game already. Like photos taken at different exposures to see which the best combination of speed and opening is. "But compact cameras only have a shutter life of 150k max. 250k is impossible."

Myungsoo feels his eyebrows twitch. Sunggyu mimics the action, but it looks more like an involuntary eye tic than anything else. "Not really. If you take care of your camera then it's very much possible," Myungsoo replies. He takes a deep breath. A dull ache pounds on the back of his head and he reaches for it, massaging the sore spot. SM's mirrors are just as resilient as its trainees. "You know about shutter lives? Or cameras?"

"I know this and that. Couple of stuff." He rubs the underside of his nose, then stretches his arms overhead as he lets out a loud yawn. "Does tinkering with my friend's camera while he's not looking count?"

"Don't do that. Don't you ever so that again," Myungsoo replies, seething. "It's not good practice to fiddle with a photographer's camera without consent."

"The same goes with things other people own," Sunggyu adds, snatching the phone from Baekhyun's hands. "What did I tell you about playing– Oh, you... got me through level 178."

"You're welcome, hyung," Baekhyun says, smiling. He finishes with a wink, then pushes himself off the floor, bracing his hands on his knees. "Okay, break time's over. Gotta get back to practicing!"

"Pract–" Myungsoo turns his gaze to Sunggyu, who's wearing the most sinister grin at the moment. He shakes his head. "Of course. Practice. Good luck, kid."

"Don't call me that! I don't think you're much older than I am!" Baekhyun calls out over his shoulder. He locks his arms in front of him, stretching, then takes his place at the center of the room. Sunggyu counts to three and presses the play button, filling the room with beats of a song Myungsoo hasn't heard yet.

Baekhyun isn't the most fascinating dancer. In fact, he isn't a good dancer at all. He has a stellar voice, a peculiar tone that can grab any passerby's attention, but the coordination of his limbs isn't something to marvel at. Whatever he lacks in that department, though, he makes up for with projection. He communicates the message of his song through his hand gestures, the many different faces he wears. He furrows his eyebrows when he gets to the slower part of the song, balls his hand into a fist so tight that Myungsoo fears his entire hand will turn white. He tilts his head to soften some hard edges of the music, transforming the performance into to accommodate himself rather than the other way around. And he enunciates each letter, each syllable, each word like he means it, every slight movement of lips lending more to the meaning of the song. His song.

"You.. didn't just summon me here to have lunch, did you?" he whispers when he moves closer to Sunggyu.

Sunggyu leans back and raises an eyebrow at him, then finishes with a wink. Myungsoo laughs – to himself, at himself – and thinks, there's danger in people knowing you too well. Sweet, pleasurable danger.

ミ☆

"Sorry about that," is Sunggyu's greeting when he shows up at the exhibit in the evening. He leans against the wall for support, then mumbles a soft 'thanks' when Myungsoo hold out his arm in aid. "I really– Well, I thought of shooting two birds with one stone but–"

But you'd never put me in harm's way or impose, Myungsoo wants to continue, but he doesn't. Instead, he shakes his head and slings Sunggyu's arm over his shoulder, then helps him get inside. They hobble in peaceful silence to the darker part of the exhibit, somewhere that isn't too crowded and noisy. He excuses himself to get some water for Sunggyu but Sunggyu shakes his head, wraps his fingers around Myungsoo's wrist in a tight circle. It doesn't hurt, but it does keep Myungsoo in place, keeps him in check. Reminds him of the reality that leaving Sunggyu here in to get them some refreshments is one of his more sly ways of trying to make Sunggyu forget the topic at hand.

"If you must insist, though, just get us some wine," Sunggyu says, relenting. He loosens his hold a little as if saying, if you want to go then this is it. This is your ticket. Get some fresh air. But if you decide to stay then I'll pull you down beside me for a talk.

He looks at the tight circle of Sunggyu's fingers on his skin, then looks up at Sunggyu. "I'll be quick," he mumbles, then slips out of the room.

When he returns with two glasses of wine, he finds Sunggyu massaging his calves. Walking on a twisted ankle must feel like torture, but Sunggyu makes it look so easy. He doesn't scrunch his nose when he pinches the muscles near his ankle, nor does he wince when accidentally hits the sore spot. He does take a deep and shaky breath, though, when he tries drawing a full circle with his pointed toes. "Damn, this fucking–" He chokes on his breath, then lets out a low scowl. "So yeah, it's half and half. I was hoping to introduce you to Baekhyun but I never intended for this to happen."

Myungsoo snorts. "I'd like to think you're not so much of a masochist, hyung." He swirls the liquid in his glass for a while, watching the reddish liquid dance along the shape of the glass. "Nice slippers."

Sunggyu laughs a little, nudges Myungsoo in his side. He moves closer, too, until their arms slide against each other. Static makes their clothes stick together before pulling away, as if being ripped from being a single unit. Myungsoo can feel the sizzle of the current wrap around his wrist, crawl up the back of his hands. It numbs his fingers a little. "Wanna try them?"

"That's gross."

"That's called 'sharing'."

"And that came from your injured foot. Hyung–"

"Thanks for heading out today despite–" Sunggyu breathes out, a noisy and thick exhalation through the narrow parting of his lips. "–despite everything."

'Everything' means the snow, the cold weather that Myungsoo hates. The way the blowing winds make his knees go weak in the wrong ways and screw up with his balance. Back in college, when they were still part of the same organization, Sunggyu would bring an extra coat everytime they went out to shoot at the height of winter. He didn't do it for himself; it was for Myungsoo. That's how bad his relationship with cold weather was. Myungsoo would end up handing the coat back to Sunggyu, though, because he had a shittier tolerance for the cold, but there was still the knowledge that winter not only fucked up Myungsoo's body but also his mind. And that's what's important – he's known Sunggyu far longer than he's learned how to cope with winter's harsh cold, known him longer than he discovered that kisses did keep the body warm.

And Myungsoo knows Sunggyu hates confrontations without alcohol to make his tongue more loose, pliant. So he says, "Just drink," knowing Sunggyu will understand, anyway.

Sunggyu chuckles. He takes a long sip, then lets out a faint 'ah' when he brings his glass down. "You two had chemistry, though. Not just the surface-level type but–" He leans forward, resting his pursed lips on the rim of the glass, then continues, "Like he's genuinely interested in you and you're okay with sparing time in your very busy schedule to figure him out, as well."

"You make photoshoots sound like a relationship."

"Aren't they?" Sunggyu asks. He takes another sip, longer than before. "The distance between the camera and the talent. The way shadows shape the talent's face and the way proper lighting transforms him into someone different. Or– Good direction from the photographer that results in a good take for the talent." He shakes his head. "Come on. Between you and me, you're the one who's spent more time mastering the craft. I'm just a casual photographer these days. I make sure kids don't shit on their career, not photograph them."

Myungsoo shrugs. Sunggyu's right: he has been practicing photography longer than Sunggyu has been. In the grand scheme of things, that's what's important. Having a good camera is a plus, but without skill, experience, and the know-how of working around tight situations, you're just a picture-taker. Someone who's been given a camera and tasked to take a photograph of everything that comes off as interesting to them.

He remembers the same argument about art and design in his art theory class. He remembers, without meaning to, the way the Woohyun looked at him in the eye like he was asking, 'Do you even know what you're talking about? Calling design art with a purpose? Are you really shitting on everyone in this room?'

"I'll think about it," Myungsoo whispers. Sunggyu's eyes shoot up, finding Myungsoo's own in the dark. He lays a palm on Myungsoo's thigh and Myungsoo nods. "No promises, but if I ever think of doing studio photography again, you'll be my top of mind."

"Me or Baekhyun?"

"You," Myungsoo says, drawling his syllables. He lowers his head, almost tucking his chin, and looks at Sunggyu in the eye. "I won't even do this for my mom."

Sunggyu parts his lips. He looks like he wants to say something. A lot of things. But no words come out. He can easily undo the knot of his lips to utter a sound; still, he remains just looking at Myungsoo like he's still looking for the best possible route where he can attack. Like he's still looking for Myungsoo's weakest spot so he can capitalize on it. He doesn't. Instead, he presses his lips together again and licks at the seam, then whispers, "Well, thank you. That means a lot."

"That sounds too diplomatic."

"Forgot to turn off the manger button," Sunggyu answers. He flicks an imaginary switch off, then says, "There you go. Better."

Nothing much as changed. They're still in the same spot. It's still dark in this part of the exhibit hall. The noise still doesn't reach them and Myungsoo's still waiting for alcohol to hit him twice as hard as it usually does. But it doesn't. He only ever succeeds in making his muscles feel too sore and too heavy, in making his insides toss and tumble in several different directions. So he takes another sip, and another, and another, hoping for the alcohol to silence the many voices at the back of his mind.

"When can I expect a final answer?" Sunggyu asks after a while, after drinking the last bit of his wine in one big gulp.

"Don't rush me," Myungsoo replies, laughing a little. Some things take time to develop. The key to any good photograph is to wait until the color sets in, until the color is at its brightest hue. To wait until the image turns into a crisp and clear contrast of colors, forming distinguishable features and details. You can't just take it out of the developer when the image is just a collection of color clouds and dip into the stop bath, expecting it to turn out well. You can't douse it with fixative hoping that it will bring out the missing details of the picture. That's not how it works. That's not how you create a good picture.

ミ☆

so, what do you think? :D

Myungsoo thumbs through the message trail before returning to the most recent message Sunggyu has sent. What does he think about what, the weather? Fucking cold, but comfortable enough that he can still turn on his fan in the kitchen just to get rid of the scent of kimchi in the air when he cooks himself a simple stew. What does he think about the exhibit? It's worth the investment, both money and time. After selling his fifth photograph earlier, he's already at twice his expected ROI. If he manages to sell the remaining two photos before the exhibit ends then he can very well not take freelance for the next three months if he wants to. Provided that he doesn't buy himself something expensive and extravagant, of course. He can always put buying a car on hold, console himself by booking a flight to Europe, instead.

he's ok, Myungsoo types, though. He knows very well what Sunggyu means by that message. pretty hyper but i guess that what u guys r looking 4 in talents? idk hyung he's ok, he adds. He contemplates on adding more to the message, but then brevity has always been his middle name. So he sticks to this, a thesis statement then a brief explanation of why baekhyun is 'okay'. If Sunggyu wants to know more, all he has to do is to ask.

He hits send. Ten seconds after, another message comes in. lol elaborate, you mofo, it says. Myungsoo groans and lets himself fall back into his bed, the comforter swallowing him whole.

Baekhyun is... okay, by most standards. He looks nice, has fluffy-looking hair and is handsome. He has these cute, squarish eyes that make him look like 80% anime character and 20% something else. He eats his words when he gets too excited (talking about taking a break, at least), but for the most part Myungsoo can understand what he says. 'Jesus F. Christ' means he's messed up the choreography for the third time in the same run. 'Oh Christ–' means his body is tired, drained, and that his spirit is probably experiencing twice as much pain. 'Thank God!' means Sunggyu has been kind enough to let him breathe for a few minutes.

"Religious kid," Myungsoo remembers himself whispering in Sunggyu's ear as he watched Baekhyun's last run of his carrier single. He has to practice another number. "He involves his god in everything that he does."

"Right," Sunggyu muttered in response. He didn't laugh, but the shaking of his shoulders and his head might as well be giving him away.

he sings well. his dancing is pretty bad tho, he begins. He rubs the tip of his nose, then props himself against his arms. He goes through a catalogue of the things he's seen earlier – Baekhyun's habit of tucking his hair behind his ears, his habit of jutting out his bottom lip without meaning to. "Ah," he whispers, then types, u have 2 do something bout those lips tho. they're super chapped. maybe u shud give him lip balm?

so you've been studying his face? :3

not d point hyung. >|

But that's the point: it starts with that, a spark of interest and inspiration. Back in college, in art appreciation class, he met Woohyun, really learned what his name was after that concert in the cafeteria, and thought, hey. He has a pretty interesting face. He isn't that handsome but there's something so memorable about his face. I just don't know what. It starts with Myungsoo tracing the contours of his subject's face, the angled plane of his jaw, the way lights and shadows dance on his skin to bring out and hide some of the imperfections in his features. It always starts with Myungsoo wondering, wondering, wondering which angle best suits the person, the type of treatment that will best bring out the subject's personality through. The best possible shot he can take of this person, his subject, and then the hidden gems he can unravel by studying this man's face.

A high-angle shot would probably suit Baekhyun. Or maybe a close crop, straight to cam. It's hard to tell. Myungsoo hasn't studied Baekhyun's features well enough yet, doesn't know Baekhyun well enough yet for him to determine how to tell Baekhyun's story in photographs.

ok ok. thanks for accommodating me btw. i know you're busy. go to bed, kid!

not a kid, he types in reply, not even looking at the keyboard. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to blink away the cool sensation in his irises. Then an image of Baekhyun flashes at the back of his eyelids, stencils an image right there and burns the details of his features where Myungsoo can see him clearest.

He types a smiley before hitting 'send,' then turns off the lights. When he closes his eyes, he still sees the image of Baekhyun's small, haunting smile at the back of his eyelids. It burns brightly in the dark.

ミ☆

He wakes up to the sound of his alarm blaring in his ears. For a second, he considers sleeping in, but then the snow comes down too hard and the winds rattle his windows. The noise isn't earth shattering, but it does leave him with a numbing shiver crawling down his spine, wrapping around his joints. For a second, he feels nothing but three things: the pulsing pain in his temples, his pulse at the back of his knees. The thumping in his chest set to a rhythm different from that of the one in his palms. When he feels his hands again, he reaches for his phone from wherever and types a message. u alright there? he sends to Howon. He copies the same message in Sunggyu's window and just adds a 'hyung' at the end.

yeah m good man it's a gud thing i havent gone out yet, Howon says. Another text comes in, from the same sender. might b late. snow's impossible outside.

no worries, Myungsoo types in response. He looks out the window. Seoul looks like a vast expanse of white from where he is. stay warm.

Snow storms are hard to come by in a place so far down south such as Seoul, but they do happen from time to time. Some stretch for hours, days, but the one that hits the city today subsides after two to three hours. Myungsoo has already had his breakfast by then and has started reheating the clear soup he'd made earlier. Malls are supposed to be open at this hour and he'd usually be on the road, but it's still impossible to navigate the streets. News networks have been showing them nothing but footages of roads covered in a foot of snow. Some, even two to three feet of it. No sane person would ever think of going out at a time like this.

No sane person who has something to eat, at least. He's running low on instant food in his cabinets and in the fridge. He should stock up in case the situation gets worse.

He doesn't leave his flat until he hears the weather forecaster giving a go to motorists, saying that roads are passable to heavy vehicles, "But light vehicles shouldn't risk it. As always, keep an eye on the road and drive safely!" Luckily, the closest convenience store is just a block away from his condotel, five minutes of careful walking and looking around for people who might need help staying on two feet. He goes through a shopping list in his head as soon as he gets there, grabbing one of the baskets close to the entrance. Five packs of the mild Jin Ramyun, one yellow radish. He's running low on kim, as well, so he grabs three packs of the big sheet and slips it behind the ramyun packs so that it won't get folded. In the beverages section, he takes five bottles of banana uyuu and then one stawberry milkis. A few steps to his right, and he reaches the shelves for the alcohol.

"Just Jinro?" he mumbles, narrowing his eyes at the 'selection'. Chamisul is his default soju brand and, on some days, Chum-Churum, but both brands are nowhere to be seen on the shelf. There isn't any Lotte alcohol here, for that matter. Grunting, he grabs a bottle of Jinro and one Hite. He makes a detour halfway through his hoarding in the toiletries section, though, hoping to find the brand of soju he had back in Jeju-do.

He's already crouched by the shelf, his half-full basket pressed to his side, when he feels someone poke his shoulder. It's a light one, too light that he almost misses it, but there's no mistaking the presence of a shadow over his shoulder. He twists his torso, then, scanning the figure from his feet up. Black winter boots, tattered jeans that should never be allowed in public especially at the height of winter. A loose, plaid polo and something that looks a lot like a black coat slung on his shoulder. Myungsoo lifts his gaze further up until he sees the details of the man's face – chapped lips, a small mole just above his upper lip. A nose too red that he might give Rudolph a run for his money. Bright eyes, and a small upward tug on the corners of his lips.

Myungsoo laughs to himself. He must be dreaming.

"There's Hallasan at the far back, if that's what you're looking for," comes a familiar voice. Myungsoo blinks a few more times, unmoved, but he can feel his insides turning. "Or were you looking for Chamisul? In that case, I... got the last bottle. Sorry!"

He gives Baekhyun one last look before reaching for the last bottle of Hallasan at the far back. It's strange to be seeing Baekhyun outside the SM building, clothed in something more colorful than the baggy white top and black pants he wore yesterday in the practice room. The patterns on his polo breathe a bit of life to him, but the tattered pants make Myungsoo grimace. It's minus two degrees outside; only someone stupid would wear something like that in this weather. "Better double up on the pants," he says, then, picking himself up again. He presses his hands to his knees as he straightens up. His thighs feel like they're on fire. Fuck old age. "If I were winter, I'd play a prank on you that you'll regret."

"Is that some new pick up like or an expression of intent to get into my pants?"

Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him. This startles laughter out of Baekhyun, albeit soft. His lips part just a little, revealing more cracks on his skin. Lip balm, his mind registers, and he holds one hand up before dashing to the toiletries section, tossing a stick into the basket Baekhyun is holding by his arm. "You're welcome."

"Oh yeah, thanks. Sunggyu-hyung mentioned last night that–" Baekhyun touches his lips, thumb pressing down on the gentle swell at the bottom and his index finger brushing back and forth the expanse of skin. "Is it really that bad? I mean, it's not as if I have to be ready to be kissed anytime, right?"

You can never be too sure, Myungsoo wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he answers, "You're an idol. You'll get photographed a lot. You can't walk on the street with chapped lips. It doesn't look nice."

Baekhyun shrugs. "Who cares?" he mumbles, but keeps running his finger along his lips anyway.

Baekhyun is silent for the remainder of their stay in the convenience store. Myungsoo lets him go first in line, and he gives him a little bow in response. He takes out a handful of things from his basket – cans of Hite, one bottle of Chamisul, too many bags of chips to last him until end of next week, some wipes and tissue paper. "Oh yeah, the lip balm," he mutters under his breath before dropping the basket to his side, then places it on the conveyor belt. Myungsoo's eyes are drawn to his slender fingers, then, the chip on the nail of his pinky and his thumb. Remnants of scars on the back of his hand, two long lines stretching from his knuckles down to his wrist.

Baekhyun has a tiny wrist, he muses. It makes his entire hand, the length of his fingers seem so daunting. Like if Myungsoo places his fist on the belt and urged Baekhyun to wrap his fingers around his fist, Baekhyun can swallow his hand with the warm press of his palm to the back of Myungsoo's hand.

You can be a watch model someday, Myungsoo wants to tell him. If his singing career doesn't kick off, modeling can always be his fallback. He knows a lot of artists whose careers have been salvaged by their wide range of endorsements. Kim Heechul isn't the most popular host but his shampoo and skin endorsements keep him in the top 10 most sought after artists of the decade. Lee Jinki's singing career took a nose dive after coming out of his surgery sounding different, but he got his second acting offer after helping Kia rise back to the ranks with his Sorrento endorsement.

"Stop staring at my nails," Baekhyun mumbles. Myungsoo looks up at the sound of Baekhyun's voice, tears his gaze from the stretch of Baekhyun's fingers and fixes his gaze on Baekhyun's face, instead. "You love doing that, don't you? Staring, I mean."

Myungsoo laughs a little. Sunggyu said the same thing about his before, except he hadn't sounded so creeped out. Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows even more, the groove on his forehead etching itself harder on his skin. It's not a nice look on him. He's only known Baekhyun for twenty four hours, though; it's too early to tell. He needs to study Baekhyun's features more.

"Not really staring. I'd call it 'studying'. It's... part of my training as a photographer."

"Well, you don't have a camera right now. No need to get into work mode or anything." Baekhyun finishes with a wink, the contorted expression on his face easing into something more relaxed. Schooled and practiced, but made more natural by months of training. He wiggles his eyebrows then turns back to the lady at the cashier, settling the payment. When he looks back at Myungsoo, his eyes are squinted like he's the one doing the studying, the observing. The staring.

This look, Myungsoo files as at the back of his mind as a Baekhyun look. This isn't one of those standard idol looks SM has made its artists wear through the years. It looks more candid, spontaneous. More… Baekhyun. "Hey, relax," Baekhyun says, then, and nudges him in his side. "Your stare's too cold. Rigid." He shakes his head. "We don't need that in here. It's already cold, as it is."

"Right," Myungsoo replies, nodding once. He turns to look to his side, marveling at the scene before him. The sheet of snow is thinner now, but still well above six inches. The winds that helped melt the snow earlier have ceased to blow. The glass doors are no longer shaking. If he was the one in tattered pants then he definitely wouldn't have made it to the convenience store alive after that five-minute walk.

He takes a deep breath. He can feel the pads of his fingers getting cold. He wiggles his fingers in his gloves, then, and digs them in the pockets of his coat. "Sorry. Force of habit," he mumbles, but lets his eyes gaze the tips of Baekhyun's fingers, taking in the details on his hands – the crack on the nail of his index finger, the gloss on his thumb nail and the middle nail. Once Baekhyun has finished stuffing the receipt in the pocket of his tattered pants, Myungsoo takes his place beside the cashier and unloads the items from his basket.

Baekhyun sticks around until Myungsoo's done paying for his own haul. "Choco Pie, huh," Myungsoo even hears him whisper, but when he looks to his side he only finds Baekhyun busying himself with his phone. His eyebrows are knit in concentration, much like the look that Sunggyu fashioned when Myungsoo arrived at SM's practice room. Myungsoo cranes his neck, then, trying to see what Baekhyun is doing, but he only catches a glimpse of black text on white background. Some boxes that look like banner ads when Baekhyun scrolls further down– No, those aren't banner ads. Those are–

"Cool pictures, by the way," Baekhyun says. He looks up from his phone, meeting Myungsoo's gaze. "I don't doubt Sunggyu-hyung but he can get a bit too soft at times. He's right, though – you are amazing."

"Hardly," Myungsoo whispers in reply. A small voice inside him giggles. He pushes that back, down his throat until he can no longer feel the soft tickling sensation in his throat. He bows to the lady, then, collecting his change and turning on his heel to face Baekhyun again. "Heading back now?"

"Probably," Baekhyun says, whistling. He looks outside the door, then looks back at Myungsoo with a worried look. "Not. Probably not. I just hitched a ride with my friend, that's how I got here. I mean, I said I needed to restock our fridge and this place was the only thing that had food. Everywhere else is sold out." He scratches the slope of his neck with a nail, just one. "I wouldn't have made it alive if I… walked to this store–"

"In those tattered pants," Myungsoo finishes. He laughs a little. "They–"

"Are a bad idea, I know." Baekhyun rubs the tip of his nose this time. It only makes it even more red. At least it breathes a bit of color into Baekhyun's otherwise pale features. Winter paints him a sickly glow, almost a lifeless one. "It was the first thing I managed to grab when I realized I had to restock my fridge. My track pants are still in the laundry, so–"

Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow just a little, enough to earn a few seconds of silence. Baekhyun's lips part a little, then, falling opening into a tiny 'o', and then he's chuckling. His shoulder give a funny shake, almost like he's dancing, but he's rooted to his spot. He's shaking his head and rolling his eyes like the realization has just hit him: he's been talking too much. He's letting the cold air inside his system. He's wearing tattered pants after the snow storm. There are people behind them, raring to leave.

Myungsoo reaches out, then, tugging on the hem of Baekhyun's shirt until he gets it. Baekhyun inches closer in response, body giving a tiny jerk in realization. He takes one step forward to the two steps to the side Myungsoo takes. And then another, until they're a few good feet away from the cashier. It creates enough room for people to slip past, use as an exit, but the two of them are still nowhere near the door. They might as well be stuck here until the storm hits again. The weather forecaster warned about it.

"So you're staying here until you find a ride home?"

"I'm staying here until–" Baekhyun fishes for his phone in this pocket, checking for something. "Until my friend gets back from his romantic excursion with his boyfriend or something. Coffee date, blah blah–"

"My place is–"

Is not where you're supposed to be, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. You don't just invite a person you've know for only a day and then some to your flat because you ran into each other in a convenience store. You don't just give someone a free pass to your life and then give him a return ticket in case he decides to bail out at the very last minute. That's not how it works. There's a reason why you take photos at different exposure settings, testing how a scene would come out on paper when you expose it secrets using light – to be safe. There's at least one shot there that's bound to come out great. You don't just take one shot at something without checking your exposure and hope your moment of spontaneity gets communicated well in a photograph.

But it's snowing outside. COEX is closed and he has nothing to do after leaving behind his old life as a slave to media and advertising. His photos are sitting in the dark exhibit area and he's miles away, watching a moving picture tilt its head and furrow its eyebrows right in front of his eyes. It's the perfect time to test out a new camera, take a few shots. It's the perfect time to get trigger-happy and just shoot away.

"–it's just five minutes away," Myungsoo finishes after a while. He swallows hard at the same time that Baekhyun lets out a faint 'oh'. He feels his throat constricting for a moment and then it's gone, replaced instead by a cool sensation. "I won't mind having you over. You are Sunggyu-hyung's kid, after all."

Baekhyun snorts. The surprise on his face dissipates, turning into something different when he narrows his eyes at Myungsoo. "I'm not a kid. For all we know, I'm older than–"

Three honks outside the convenience store and Baekhyun looks up, as if the vacant space in his chest has just been filled with air. His face grows pale, though, and his eyes widen even more as another honk blares in their ears. Baekhyun looks to his side, then, and Myungsoo follows his gaze. There's a car pulled over just a few feet away from the door, window pulled down. There's a small guy inside waving at Baekhyun and mouthing 'come on, I don't have all day'. And then Baekhyun's brushing past Myungsoo, their shoulders bumping. The contact is electric, sending a sharp jolt up his arm that numbs Myungsoo's senses for a while. And then Baekhyun's looking over his shoulder, looking at Myungsoo, and the blood comes rushing back to Myungsoo's toes.

"Sorry, I'm– That's my ride," he mutters, bowing a little, and then he's swinging the doors open, walking past the doors and rushing to the car, his legs buried calf-deep into the snow.

Baekhyun gives him one last wave, then pinches the driver's cheek as a greeting. And then they're driving away, slow and careful as any responsible driver would be.

Myungsoo keeps his eyes on the retreating figure, dropping his gaze to his feet only when the car disappears around the block. "Bye," he finds himself whispering under his breath. When he looks to his right, he finds his hand raised to eye level, swaying from left to right in a slow, steady motion, a mirror image of what Baekhyun had done just minutes ago.

ミ☆

ur kid bought lip balm today. u can xpect good things–

Myungsoo stops midway through typing, thumb hovering the next character but leaning more towards the backspace button. There's no good reason to text Sunggyu about it, but then there's no reason to hide it as well. For all he knows, Sunggyu might even thank him for making sure that Baekhyun isn't torturing his lips. It's for a good cause, he tells himself, reminds himself as the voice at the back of his mind harps at him. He's just letting Sunggyu know that Baekhyun's taking care of himself, grabbing a couple of bottles of alcohol for himself. Wearing tattered pants in the height of winter, too, when it's torture to head out without a coat. Yep, all for a good cause.

He stares at the message he's drafted a little longer and shakes his head. He presses down on the backspace button and watches as the cursor swallows the rest of the text, until all he's left with is a blank space.

He spends the rest of the day unearthing some of his old negatives that he'd shuffled to his filing cabinet years ago. The envelop carries all sorts of things – pictures of Sunggyu's face too close to the camera, pictures of the sky. These are from one of those hikes at Seoraksan during autumn. Pictures of someone frolicking on the sand and looking at Myungsoo, lips pulled up in a grin. Pictures of the same man looking at the camera, straight at the lens, wearing the prettiest smile that black and white simply cannot do justice.

He takes a deep breath, then slips the strip of negative back into its holder. He turns off the lightbox, then, and grabs a coat, his phone, a couple of bills from his coin purse that he stuffs in his wallet eventually. He shuts the door behind him and makes sure to lock it before disappearing around the corridor. Pulling his hat over his ears, he shuffles to the elevator and thinks to himself, it's been a while since he's last done this.

It's been a while since he's stepped out of his flat out of the blue to just walk along the entire stretch of his block, taking pictures of all sorts of things.

It's been a while since he's stopped thinking about taking the best, the perfect shot and just had fun.

ミ☆

He wakes up at five in the morning with a tiny jerk. He looks all around, squinting hard in an effort to help his eyes adjust to the darkness. He can make out the faint flecks of snow just beyond the window, some lights from the cars two streets from his block. The news on TV, as well – he must have left it on last night while he was drying his hair. The weather's supposed to be tame today, so it's business as usual for everyone. That means having to travel all the way from Ilsandong to COEX to try to sell the last two photos before the exhibit ends.

One photo a day doesn't sound so daunting. It shouldn't be too hard to sell those. But the more he looks at the photos, the more he realizes one thing – abstract photos can only communicate so much that photos of people easily can. And it makes the chances of selling those last two pieces slimmer.

He shrugs. Turns over so he can bury his face in his pillows and breathe out warm air in big puffs. If he ever falls asleep, there's always his alarm to wake him up at seven. There's no need to rush.

He's up again fifteen minutes after, when he feels his stomach grumble. He makes a beeline for the kitchen, then, and gingerly starts the stove. Cooking anything more than fried eggs and fish in the morning requires more effort than the usual, but with winter seeping through his walls and crawling up his ankles he's left with no choice but to cook soup or stew. He fishes for a fresh bottle of kimchi from his fridge, then, some ground pork and kim. He tosses some of the leftover chopped onions and leeks into the pan, then adds a generous amount of kimchi to the mix. Once he sees the juice seep from the white stalks of the kimchi, he adds the kimchi juice from the container, then adds some water.

He stops short before sprinkling some salt on the brewing stew. He recalls cooking an insane amount of kimchi jjigae for a big group before, back in college for the photography club. Sunggyu was busy with cooking the spinach and keeping watch over the seaweed soup. Meanwhile, he was in charge of making sure Woohyun didn't add too much chili flakes to the already-spicy jjigae they're cooking. "You're supposed to be adding pork, not chili," he remembers telling Woohyun, and Woohyun only responded with a coy smile, a wink, and two hands on his waist.

He jerks back a little and stares at the bright red stew glaring at him. He's been a fan of kimchi jjigae even before he met Woohyun. He's tasted his first bowl of it from his mother, not in college. This doesn't have to be about Woohyun.

The stew comes to a boil ten minutes after, and that's when he tosses in the ground pork. He keeps his eyes on the expanse of red and flushes out all the other colors fighting for his attention at the back of his eyelids, drowning out the sound of a distinct voice in his ears.

He sets out on his commute to COEX at nine, giving him enough time to take a leisurely walk to the station without having to think about the long line of people. Heavy snow, albeit not as serious a situation as that of yesterday's, means less students on the streets, less people to battle with for a seat in the subway. Korea's train system is one of the most efficient in the world, but when you're fighting for a piece of space with ten percent of the population even the people with the most immaculate of patience can snap. The train isn't as packed as it should be, though, filled mostly with office workers and maybe some shoppers. He keeps his earphones plugged throughout the trip, bobbing his head to a few songs that he remembers from his childhood.

Sunggyu's a big fan of Nell, everyone knows that. The biggest secret, though, is that Sunggyu is an even bigger fan of the *NYSNC and Backstreet Boys. Or any boyband in that era, to be honest. One time, Myungsoo walked in on Sunggyu belting out 'Invisible Man' while using a mop as his microphone. Luckily, the other club members were nowhere to be seen.

That is, to date, still his biggest blackmail material for Sunggyu. He plays the video on his phone whenever he needs a good laugh.

hey hyung a1 came on and i just thot, maybe ud sound great singing she doesnt see me, he texts Sunggyu before the train comes to a halt. He slips his phone in his back pocket, then lets himself be carried by the tide of people taking the same exit as he is.

If COEX already looks like a maze during store hours, it looks even more imposing and intimidating with only some lights turned on. He presses on, though, navigating to the third floor and crouching at the base of the escalator before beginning his climb. When he arrives at the exhibit area, the doors are no longer locked and there's a small slab of wood keeping them from shutting closed. He slips inside, then, trying to make as very little noise as possible so as to not startle who's inside.

"You're early," he calls out, craning his neck to get a better look at Howon. Howon waves over his shoulder, steadying the frame he's holding before turning around. "Storm didn't hit your area that hard?"

"Well, we weren't spared but at least we didn't get snowed in. Southerner perks," Howon replies, winking.

Myungsoo rolls his eyes at that, and Howon responds by slinging an arm over his shoulder. Ruffles his hair, too, before laughing-cackling right in his ear in a tone so bright Myungsoo feels his ears pop. He looks around for an audience. It's just the two of them, just two old officemates who have finally raised the white flag and said to themselves, 'Y'know what? I'm gonna stop earning a living in this hellhole and start living.' Howon was one of those few people in the production house who truly understood his reason behind picking up his suitcases, too heavy with all the years he's spent in the company. One of those few people who knew when to drape a jacket over Myungsoo's shoulder, too, during overtime, and when to poke him in his side to jolt him awake. They were alike in a lot of ways: both passionate about photography, except Howon's fascination was more on the photo manipulation side of things. Being in production helped him hone his skills, yes, but when you're made to take out pimples on a person's face on a daily basis and turn a model who looks otherwise 'basic' – client's words, not theirs – into a superstar, it gets trite and tiring. Draining.

"Day four, man. We're almost at the finish line." Howon gives his arm a light squeeze. He leans his head against Myungsoo's then whispers, "Who'd have thought, huh?"

"I always saw our resignation coming. It's normal, just so you know."

"Smartass," Howon groans. He pinches Myungsoo in his side with his free hand and keeps one arm around his shoulder. "I got a call from the guy who bought your painting. The one from the first day of the exhibit." He coughs a little and Myungsoo snakes an arm around his waist on instinct. Myungsoo runs a hand up and down his back until the coughing subsides. "He asked if the portrait of the kid with the funny smile has already been bought. I said no. Then he said, and I quote, 'Who would even overlook such a wonderful photograph? Can I... get it for the same price as the first one I got?'"

Myungsoo leans back a little, cocking an eyebrow at Howon in accord. "You're shitting me, right? Who'd want to own three photos of the same photographer?"

"You've got yourself a fan, bud," Howon teases. He winks, then pulls away just before Myungsoo socks him in the gut with his elbow. "He wants to get the last photo, as well!"

The conversation lasts until they're done fixing the guestbook and arranging the chairs at the cocktails area. Myungsoo takes a step back from his side of the panel, gandering at his photos mounted on the wall. He scans them from left to right, from the one with the least amount of detail to the most detailed. There's only one photograph left unmarked, a tight shot of a big toe touching the surface of water enough to create ripples. There are leaves on the surface, also riding the small waves, and their tips create a bit of a dissonance to the ripples. They make the composition look great, though, and undeniably Myungsoo. All his pictures are dotted with a couple of leaves, usually near the corners. A pseudo foliage, that's what he calls it. Something to mark the end of the frame, or something to remind people of Myungsoo's existence. Photographs are an extension of a photographer's soul, after all. Each snapshot has a piece of the photographer in it, no matter how big or small.

He presses a sticker to the edge of the frame of the photo with the child in it. He laughs to himself and thinks, there are people who would willingly overlook a photo that's sticking out of the crop like a sore thumb. The most apparent things are the easiest things to ignore, after all.

ミ☆

Howon insists that they go out for dinner after the exhibit. He doesn't have a reason to say no: the roads are no longer slippery and are now safe. He doesn't have laundry to do at home, no tennis match to catch on TV. The Davis Cup is long over, after all; it isn't until mid January that the matches will start pouring in again. Winter is for catching up with friends, for slowing down. It freezes your schedule and makes space for other things you otherwise won't find yourself doing if it was summer or spring or autumn.

"Pork or beef?" Howon asks, menu balanced on his open palms.

Myungsoo worries his bottom lip. Beef is good but sirloin is an ass to cook, requires too much effort and all of your attention or else you'll end up burnt meat. So he answers, "Pork," then snatches the menu from Howon. He runs his index finger down the drink list, then turns to the waitress taking their orders. "And one bottle of Chamisul, please."

"Fine, you win," Howon groans. Under the table, he kicks Myungsoo's foot. Myungsoo only furrows his eyebrows in response. When the waitress finally leaves, he asks, "So, how are things with Sunggyu-hyung, by the way?"

"What do you mean 'how are things with hyung'?" Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow at Howon and leans back, trying to get a better look at Howon's features. His lips are pressed to a thin line, bottom lip jutted out in a pout. His eyes are squinted, too, as if he's trying to see better, more clearly. The lighting in this part of the place isn't that great, after all; they can't take risks. Then Howon starts drumming his fingers on the table, a rhythm so weird and dissonant that Myungsoo doesn't even bother trying to make sense of it.

"Well, he's alive," Myungsoo replies after a while. He scratches the slope of his neck with a nail, just one, then takes a deep breath. "His foot's better now, I guess. He jammed it into a vending machine a few days back. Don't even ask me how – he makes the strangest accidents possible."

Howon snorts. "And he called you first for help, yeah?"

"We were supposed to meet up for lunch. Of course, he'd contact me first."

Howon gives him a long look, then rolls his. "Suit yourself, bud." He takes a long sip of his ice-cold water, then repeats, "Suit yourself."

Myungsoo holds his gaze a little longer, until the waitress arrives with slabs of pork. She turns on the grill and out comes smoke, white wisps that seep into Myungsoo's eyes and make him wince.

The thing about his friendship with Sunggyu is that they've known each other for far too long already that it's almost impossible for something to happen. Sunggyu has watched him grow up, has seen him graduate from diapers to real underwear and then boxers. Sunggyu has been in every important occasion in his life – all four graduations and every wedding anniversary of his parents. Sunggyu only stopped appearing at the Kim family's doorstep in Anyang-si when his workload began to eat him up alive. Or maybe it was Myungsoo who got gobbled up by work, who stopped staying home long enough to see Sunggyu visit his parents. Sunggyu treated Myungsoo's parents as if they were his own, especially when after losing his own parents to a tragic car crash. Myungsoo can still remember the look on Sunggyu's face then, on the last day of the wake – eyes sullen, the corners of his lips drawn to a straight, straight line. Cheeks pulled down even as he said, "I'm happy for them. I'm glad they can finally get some rest."

Unknown to some: Sunggyu took his hand after that and laced their fingers together. He kept his eyes on the link of their hands for the longest time, like he was trying to etch a message on the back of Myungsoo's hand. "You won't leave me, right?" Sunggyu asked, eyes glimmering with something Myungsoo couldn't pinpoint. There was a small smile on his lips, breathing a bit of color into his cheeks. His skin was flushed, warm. Welcoming.

"Of course," Myungsoo answered, then leaned closer to place a soft kiss to Sunggyu's forehead. He closed his eyes before snaking his free arm around Sunggyu to pull him closer. He felt Sunggyu's quickening pulse on his palm, heard the hitch in Sunggyu's breath. When Sunggyu pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, he shut his eyes tight even more and counted to ten.

"It's just garlic," Howon says now, the last syllable drowning in the noise around them. He gestures at browning cloves on the grill, the burnt edges glaring at Myungsoo. Taking the tongs, Myungsoo flips them over and tosses some meat into the grill. "You were staring at it like one of those weird project briefs we got back then." A hiccup, then, "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Myungsoo mutters without a second thought. He adds some kimchi, too, and keeps an eye on the meat. He doesn't let them turn to crisp.

Everything's alright.

ミ☆

There were rumors before, of Sunggyu confessing to the student council that he had the biggest, most long-enduring crush on Myungsoo. Myungsoo heard all sorts of things about it – Sunggyu was drunk as fuck and he was so red in the face. He was on his third bottle of soju (questionable; Sunggyu's never gotten past his first bottle) when he'd declared, in a tiny voice, "So fine, maybe I do like my best friend. So what?" For a moment, everyone thought it was Woohyun because the two were practically joined at the hip. They were in the same clubs, were always seen hanging out during breaks. They even had a super secret handshake that made their friendship look cliquey as fuck. And then Sunggyu said, "And maybe he's dense but how can you not fall for someone you've been taking care of since he was a fucking kid?"

"Nope. Impossible," Myungsoo still said. He high-fived with Sunggyu when they saw each other at the cafeteria. He didn't miss the look of relief in Sunggyu's features as they sat beside each other and ate in companionable silence. He didn't miss the glimmer in Sunggyu's eyes when Myungsoo broached the topic of Motion City Soundtrack's latest release and offered him an earbud, either.

Myungsoo shakes his head now as he waves at Howon over his shoulder. He waits for his friend to drive off, craning his neck as he watches the cab disappear into a corner.

He digs his hands deep in his pockets and shivers in the cold. When no cab passes the area for the next five minutes, he walks to the next block in the hope of finding his ride home.

7-11's bright signage becomes his beacon as he walks along the path, taking careful steps to help his aching knees. He's never been a fan of the cold, but if he wants to get home then he has to brave this weather and hope that hailing a cab near the main road will be more fruitful. He looks to his left and his right, then, before moving closer to the gutter and inching away from the curb. He isn't like one those assholes who'd hail a cab and keep other cars from turning corners.

One more step forward, then the figure just a few feet away from him becomes much clearer. "Oh, come on. You've got to be kidding me," he mumbles. He takes a deep breath then says, in a louder voice, "So who's following whom?"

The figure in the shadows looks up. "Probably you," he says, voice lilting somewhere towards the middle. He shakes his head and steps out of the dark, walking closer to the lamp post at their midpoint. "Seriously, though. You again?"

Myungsoo laughs a little. He regrets it soon after, feeling the cool air crawl up his nostrils and make him grow cold inside. COEX isn't exactly a quick walk from SM Entertainment, but when you're one of SM's talents set to debut in a few months then you'll take every chance you get to go around. Experience freedom while you still can. It's understandable – Myungsoo was feeling so trapped and tied down to his job before he made the decision to resign. So it shouldn't be a surprise to see Baekhyun in this area, to run into him for the second day in a row, but it is. Of all the people he has to bump into, it has to be the same man who's a walking reminder of Sunggyu's business offer and the chance of a lifetime that Myungsoo is yet to decide on.

"I came from my exhibit," Myungsoo explains. He sniffles a bit, then shivers. Baekhyun lets out a small sliver of laughter, then presses the back of his hand to his lips like it's just caught up to him – the fact that they're practically strangers, that they met just three days ago. The fact that they're seeing each other again near a convenience store, but this time in a cool winter night instead of in the morning.

The snow is still bright and blinding, though. The glimmer in Baekhyun's eyes, even more. Myungsoo shakes that thought away and asks, "You? Done with practice?"

Baekhyun snorts. He drops his hand to his side, then pulls his bonnet over his ears. "Nah. I was given an hour-long break, though. Thought I'd go somewhere sorta far away where I couldn't see the SM building even if I tried really hard."

Myungsoo's eyebrows twitch. A corner of Baekhyun's lips tugs up in response, like sympathy is a funny feeling in this situation. Maybe to someone who's been programmed to perform like it was his last day on stage every single time, it is. "Is it that bad? The training program, I mean."

"I wouldn't say it's bad. It's just–" Baekhyun worries his bottom lip. He fumbles with the hem of his shirt. Sunggyu wouldn't want that. Baekhyun can't afford to look nervous in front of a stranger who's sort of an acquaintance. He's being trained to feel invincible and unstoppable, not incapable of expressing himself. "Ah, what's a nice term for it..."

"No need to filter your words," Myungsoo assures. "It's just me."

"That's the thing: it's you," Baekhyun whispers. For a moment, Myungsoo swears he sees Baekhyun's eyes widen, but it's gone in a blink of an eye. Instead, he finds Baekhyun clasping his hands in front of him. "It's just not for the feint of heart, SM's training program. You'll learn a lot from it, sure, but the thing you see people idols go through in the entertainment company features on TV? That's true. Some trainees stay in the building for days living only on coffee and instant noodles. Sleep is... sort of a reward that you have to earn."

"That's–" Crazy, Myungsoo wants to say, but he knows better than to shoot someone's dream down. Instead, he goes with, "Tough. How do you manage?"

"I don't now," Baekhyun whispers. He drops his gaze to his feet, then looks up at Myungsoo to ask, "Would you do the same if you were in my shoes?"

If he were much younger then he probably would, but at the ripe age of 28 there's no telling if you'll even get to debut. Every year, the starting age of idol life becomes younger and younger. If, before, the industry wouldn't even dare have trainees under 18 debut, now almost every company has a fourteen-year-old working for them on stage. And the fans like that. These younger generation of fans likes seeing someone of the same age as they are pour their heart and soul into a dance, a song, a performance because it makes them feel that they can achieve great things. That they only need to work hard enough to be able to reach their dreams. None of that shit about luck. Success if 90% hard work, after all.

Myungsoo laughs to himself. If only he had the same foolish positivity as that of kids. Age both ripens and over-ripens you. So he says to Baekhyun, "I might give it a shot, but I... won't hope so much?" He scratches the underside of his jaw, then continues, "But I'll keep doing what I can to reach my goal. No harm in trying, after all."

Baekhyun scoffs. "Wish I had your positivity. Age makes you–"

"Wiser and more of a Smart Alec," Myungsoo continues. Baekhyun's cheeks tug up, coaxing a smile onto his mouth, but he doesn't pry his lips open for a grin. "How old are you?"

Baekhyun hums, swaying his head from side to side. "Not old enough for Sunggyu-hyung to call me hyung, but old enough to be understandably jaded with life."

Myungsoo rolls his eyes. "And old enough to play mind games with people." He nods, slow and deliberate, as Baekhyun does a small curtsy in front of him. "Well played, Baekhyun. Well played–"

He never gets to utter Baekhyun's name again because the next thing he knows, Baekhyun's losing balance and falling to his left. He reaches over, then, wrapping his fingers around Baekhyun's wrist to keep him from falling all the way down. He pulls him closer, into his arms and hopefully back to his feet, but to no avail – the ground is covered with snow and thin sheets of ice. It's slippery out here, and they weren't careful enough to keep themselves from falling.

"Fuck–" Baekhyun groans, massaging his ankles, but the low sound of distaste fades as soon as he sees Myungsoo on the ground, half of his face buried in the snow and the other half frozen into a frown. Baekhyun leans forward, hand reaching out, and for a moment Myungsoo thinks Baekhyun's about to return the favor and help him get up, but no. Wrong again, Myungsoo, he tells himself. Baekhyun's shoulders give a violent shake and, soon, slivers of giggles slip from his lips, tiny hiccups of laughter that grow louder with each passing moment. In a second, he's brushing away the beads of tears at the corners of his eyes. In two seconds, he lets out a loud cackle. In three seconds, he loses it, throwing his head back in a fit of laughter that leaves his chest heaving.

Myungsoo looks at Baekhyun, really looks at him, and notices the slow-forming smile on his lips turning into a wicked grin, his lips finally parting open to reveal more of the bright sound and his rich tone. So he keeps his eyes on Baekhyun, traces the shape of Baekhyun's mouth with his gaze and takes in the funny shape it forms when Baekhyun lets out the most raucous of sounds.

In four seconds, he loses the feeling in his fingers.

In five seconds, he loses all the air in his lungs and fills it with the sound of Baekhyun's voice, instead.

ミ☆

"Easy now– Okay, there you go."

Myungsoo unwraps his fingers from his tight hold on Baekhyun's waist and helps him get up the the first flight of stairs at the entrance. Hobbling to the next block to catch a cab earlier was already torture, as it was, but climbing even the shortest flight of stairs is more of a test. Baekhyun struggles to keep himself on his feet, but he manages to press his free hand flat on the wall for support. The security meets them halfway, but shoots them a funny look before helping Baekhyun get back to solid ground. "You need crutches, kid?" he asks, then, and cocks his head in the direction of a door to their right. "You want me to take you to the clinic?"

"Nah, I'm good. I just–" He juts out his hip, trying to signal something, but all Myungsoo gets from it is the curve of Baekhyun's body. It's a nice slope. Baekhyun has such a tiny waist but such broad shoulders and– "Hey sec, can you call Sunggyu-hyung? Eighth floor, practice room 8D. The one at the far back? Wait, he is still here, right?"

"Does he ever go home?"

Baekhyun snorts. "Point." He groans, then takes a deep breath. To the security, he says, "Just... yeah, please call hyung. Tell him someone from his past wants to see him."

Funny you should say that, Myungsoo wants to say. Sunggyu's past is anything but a smooth and easy path, but it isn't as twisted as that of Myungsoo's. Or maybe it is. Sunggyu's just good at hiding things, keeping them under the thin veil of a commercial smile and a light shake of the hand. If being civil and nice to everyone warranted a master's degree then Sunggyu would have it. Maybe even a PhD for it. For all he knows, Sunggyu might have met Baekhyun during college and had just chosen to keep Baekhyun a secret from him.

Myungsoo snorts. Sunggyu's a shitty liar. He rules that out, then, and tells Baekhyun, "I'll do it."

He fishes for his phone from his pocket, then pulls up Sunggyu's contact card. Baekhyun reaches out, gripping him by the wrist. He lifts his gaze from his phone, then, looking to his side to meet Baekhyun's eyes. "You don't have to do this. I've already caused you enough trouble– I mean, you were supposed to be on your way home and–"

"And you couldn't even walk three steps. You couldn't even get into the cab unaided." Myungsoo tucks his chin, then raises an eyebrow at Baekhyun. "It's okay. It's just a call. Hyung might even be happy to know that I know how to use my phone to call people."

Baekhyun laughs a little, but his lips remain pressed thinly together. Where's the bright laughter, Myungsoo wants to ask. He doesn't. Instead, he presses the call button and presses his phone close to his ear. To Baekhyun, he says, "Take a seat. You'll want to look sort of okay once hyung gets here."

"Hyung's gonna kill me, I just know it," Baekhyun whispers just loud enough for Myungsoo to hear.

Myungsoo shakes his head. "He's a hardworker. He'll torture you before killing you," he counters, then laughs at his own joke. You'd think years of being friends makes you immune to laughing at your jokes about someone you know so well, but it doesn't. It only gives you more reason to laugh and fool around with your friend.

Sunggyu's Nell ringtone blares on the other end of the line, then fades out into silence. A few beeps, and then Myungsoo hears a familiar voice on the other end of the line. It almost feels like coming home.

"Hey, hyung. Myungsoo here. Yeah, I'm–" He laughs a little. "I'm alive, not frozen. Completely thawed out and– Say, hyung, remember your Christmas present from three years ago? The thing you thought I'd enjoy?" Sunggyu makes some strange garbled sound on the other end of the line that sounds a lot like a 'mhmmyeah?'. He takes that as a sign to go on, clearing his throat before continuing, "I'm giving it back."

"Yah, you already returned the toys–" Sunggyu argues. "Did I give you anything else?"

"Hyung, the present. Four years ago." The number makes a difference. It's too late in the evening to be playing games but it isn't everyday that he gets to screw with Sunggyu's mind. "I turned it down but I kept finding it at my doorstep. I'm giving it back."

"Oh shit," Baekhyun groans. Myungsoo looks up from staring at his shoes, then fixes his gaze on Baekhyun. Baekhyun scrunches his nose and frowns, bottom lip jutted out. There's a small cut there, a short line of red that produces an even bigger crack just a few centimeters big. There's a hint of pink at the corners of his mouth, like lip balm had accumulated on them. He isn't pale from the cold, but he looks more pained than ever. Myungsoo looks away but doesn't miss Baekhyun mumbling, "I forgot to buy him some strawberry milkis."

He covers the mouthpiece and whispers to Baekhyun, "I have one in my bag, still unopened."

"No shit. You do? How–"

I always grab a bottle from the convenience store just in case, he wants to say. Baekhyun doesn't need to know that. "Just get it before he– Right, there you go. Took you a while to figure that out. Yeah, I'm at the ground floor. I'll see you."

On the other end of the line, Myungsoo hears the door shut tight. He hears Sunggyu's low exhale, as well, his light humming. The song sounds familiar, sounds as if it's from a few years back.

"He's not injured, right?"

"You'll have to find that out for yourself."

"But he's alive?"

Myungsoo casts a glance at Baekhyun who's picking at the lock of Myungsoo's bag. Baekhyun looks up at him and mouths, 'there's a fucking combination!' Myungsoo counts with his fingers, and Baekhyun inputs the numbers he gets from the message. Off comes the lock and out goes the strawberry milkis. And then there it is, the soft smile on Baekhyun's lips and a glimmer in Baekhyun's eyes.

"He is," Myungsoo says with confidence. He hears the dull 'ding' of the elevator on the other end of the line. "He's alive."

Sunggyu doesn't throw a fit when he sees Baekhyun with one leg rested on a monoblock chair, but he does snort. "You're taking this whole idolizing thing to a new level, kid. Matching injuries, really? Well fine, they're not exactly matching injuries but come on," Sunggyu tells Baekhyun, then reaches out to ruffle his hair. Baekhyun leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed and the corners of his lips curling up into a smile. He scratches his cheek with the side of his balled fist, and for a moment Myungsoo thinks, Baekhyun looks like a fucking puppy. Even the way he hums then looks up at Sunggyu with adoring eyes makes him look like a lost pup. It's two parts annoying and one part adorable.

"He said you'll torture me before killing me because I did this to my foot. Will you?" Baekhyun asks. He cocks his head in Myungsoo's direction and Sunggyu lifts his gaze. "I know you're a kindhearted master and you'll never harm poor puppies like me–"

Well fuck, he thinks he's a puppy, Myungsoo groans in his mind. Baekhyun might just be one of the most obnoxious talents Sunggyu has ever handled. He'd kick Baekhyun in the calf if he could, but he's always believed in treating animals just like people – with care and love, but from a distance. So he imagines himself socking Baekhyun, instead, the image of the scenario so clear in his mind that he laughs at his own fantasy.

"He's right," Sunggyu admits. To Myungsoo, he says, "You didn't have to let him know that, though. Would've been better if he got hit by something he'd never see coming."

Baekhyun shifts his gaze between the two of them, them gives Sunggyu a light punch on the arm. "You're siding with him? But I'm your talent! You gave birth to me!"

"Let's not go there," Sunggyu says, voice low and syllables drawn out. He's using his teacher voice, one he's always used when he was trying to make the new members of the photography club realize that, 'it's not in the camera; it's in the person handling it. Don't blame your camera for your lack of skill.' It's also the same voice he'd used to tell Myungsoo that, 'Your relationship with him isn't healthy anymore, Soo. You've got to let him go.'

Maybe it's the same voice he'd use if he ever walked up to Myungsoo to say something else, to talk about a matter they've long been pushing aside. Maybe–

"It's getting pretty cold here, you know," Myungsoo mutters. He gestures in the direction of the doors, then says, "Either we go inside or I leave now and we disperse because my job is done."

Baekhyun lets slip a soft 'oh' from his lips, but the subtle lift of his eyebrows say a different thing. It's almost as if he's asking, questioning Myungsoo, 'so I'm just a package you'll drop off, is that it? After all that we've been through?' It sounds hilarious. In the forty-eight, seventy-two hours that they've known each other, Myungsoo has discovered more things about Baekhyun than he did with Woohyun in the first month that he sat in the same class as Woohyun.

Stop. Don't go there. We are not going there, he tells himself. He shuns the voice at the back of his mind, silencing it. Instead, he focuses on the now, fixing his eyes on Baekhyun and the shape of his mouth.

"Aren't you injured as well?" Baekhyun asks. He nods in Myungsoo's direction, then drops his gaze to Myungsoo's torn jeans. "Right... there?"

From a corner of his eye, Myungsoo sees Sunggyu cock an eyebrow at him. "Unlike you, I can walk without anyone's help." He looks to his side, then turning to Sunggyu to say, "I'll go ahead, hyung. Might not be able to catch any cabs at this hour. Man, I never thought it would be this hard to get a cab here at Gangnam–"

"I can take you home," Sunggyu interrupts, then rests a hand on Baekhyun's shoulder. He gives it a squeeze, just hard enough to make Sunggyu's veins at the back of his hand shift but not hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "SM has a shuttle service for artists and since Baekhyunnie's debuting in a few months, he can use it already. I think your house is on the way. You still live in Ilsan, right?"

Myungsoo gulps hard. There's no reason for him to say no, no logical reason for him to turn down the offer. Taking the shuttle service means he can sleep on his ride home without having to worry about being taken to some far-off place. Less expenses, too, because a trip across the river isn't exactly the most inexpensive of commutes. On one hand, that means having to wait for Baekhyun's session to finish. Sunggyu isn't as heartless as he makes himself out to be, but if Myungsoo's knowledge of Baekhyun is anything to go by then he's sure Baekhyun will volunteer to do two rounds of vocal practice to make up for the trouble he's caused.

Be practical, he tells himself. The mall doesn't open until 10 a.m., anyway. He has time.

"Yeah, still in Ilsan." He worries his bottom lip, then says, "If it's okay with you. I mean, what if the company doesn't want non-SM people to use the van and–"

"I'll take care of it," is all that Sunggyu says before giving his arm a light squeeze. He finishes with a wink, then helps Baekhyun get up from where he's seated.

Myungsoo takes it as his cue to take Baekhyun's other side, draping Baekhyun's other arm on his shoulder and sliding his own arm around Baekhyun's waist. Such a small waist, Myungsoo muses, and for a moment he wonders how it would feel to hold Baekhyun by the waist with his own hands, how it would feel to wrap both of his arms around Baekhyun to pull him close to his chest. There's no reason for him to do that, though, no good excuse, so he pushes that thought to the back of his mind and focuses on what needs to be done. They have to get to the clinic and have Baekhyun receive treatment. Sunggyu needs to call the driver. And Myungsoo has to wait with bated breath as Baekhyun squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his fists in tandem with the tiny whimpers he lets out as Baekhyun gets his injury treated.

Myungsoo replays the image of Baekhyun cackling with reckless abandon on the snow in his mind and clings onto that happy image. It's the same thought that eases the tension in his muscles and stills the heavy thumping of his pulse at the base of his throat.

ミ☆

thanks 4 d ride, he texts Sunggyu. In another message thread, he says, hope your foot's better. stay safe. - kim myungsoo

He collapses on his bed face first, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. His wet hair sticks to the sides of his face, leaving lines of water on his cheeks, and he shivers when he feels the cool air seep into his skin. The air conditioning isn't turned on that high but taking a warm shower always leaves him more vulnerable to cool winds. It also lulls him to sleep faster than the usual, like a blanket of just the right amount of warmth pulling him to bed and wrapping around him like a quilt.

He wrestles his hand out of being tucked between his tummy and the mattress. His phone's there, too, a cool metal presence sticking to his skin. He still hasn't sent the other message, the cursor still blinking at the end of the gray message bubble. He turns over, then, lying on his back and squinting so he can read what he's typed better. There are a few strange words there now, probably characters he mistakenly typed while trying to wrestle with fatigue and laziness to lie in bed properly.

He deletes the whole thing, retypes the message, then deletes it again. After a while, he settles with feel better soon. have a safe trip, then slips his phone beneath the pillow overhead.

Baekhyun was silent company in the van earlier, after Sunggyu got off somewhere in Yeouido. He was talking a lot before that, asking Sunggyu for a review of his last two vocal sessions before they called it a day. "I think I went flat somewhere but I could've been just hearing things," Baekhyun said, and Sunggyu rolled his eyes at him in response. "Seriously, hyung, I have to know if I screwed something up. How will I improve if you're not there to call me out on my shit?"

Valid point, Myungsoo remembers himself thinking back then. Sometimes there are mistakes in what you're doing that you won't be able to see because you're so attached to it already, so saturated with the tiny details of your work that you'll just gloss over them and not notice the slight change in key, the missed step in the routine. The weird object that's in the composition because your hands might have shaken while you were taking the picture. These small things that can be improved make a lot of difference. Sometimes, they're the make-or-break things that can put you, your career, your craft, at risk.

"You sounded great. You sound great," Myungsoo remembers saying then. Baekhyun turned to him with wide eyes and cocked eyebrows. His lips were pursed. His bottom lip was chapped. Myungsoo allowed himself to study the curve of Baekhyun's mouth a little longer before meeting Baekhyun's gaze. Baekhyun seemed to understand and fished for his lip balm from deep in his pocket. Sunggyu let out a tiny sound of surprise. After a while, Myungsoo continued, "Though I'm not sure if you should be doing so many runs for the bridge. You can keep it clean-sounding and simple and it will still be as effective. Too many curls to your voice will strain your vocal chords. You wouldn't want to do that, not when you sing for a living."

Baekhyun's shoulders rose in tandem with the sharp, noisy breath he inhale through his nose. He scrunched it a little and held his breath, then exhaled while asking, "You know stuff about singing?"

Myungsoo recalls laughing and snorting. Doesn't recall his heart pounding in his chest, but now that he goes back to that exact moment in time when they passed an intersecting car and the headlights lit up Baekhyun's features, he can feel the thrumming in his chest. It's a low thrum, subtle enough that he can ignore it if he wants to and just swallow it down. He can feel it at the back of his throat, though, at the base of his neck. It's a steady pulse, a reminder of how the harsh lights softened up the angled planes of Baekhyun's cheeks, how it lifted the dark circles under Baekhyun's eyes and made his eyes glimmer. How Baekhyun fought the shit-eating grin tugging up at the corners of his mouth and pressed the back of his hand to his lips.

"I have a friend who sings," he answered after a while. Sunggyu craned his neck, meeting Myungsoo's gaze a few feet away. Sunggyu leaned back into his seat, slumping against the cushion. "I guess you can say I've learned a thing or two from him."

"That makes sense," Baekhyun said. He sat on his hands and swayed from side to side. When they reached another red light, he asked, "So should I take out the curls in the bridge completely or just lessen them? Or move them to the end where I sing a capella?"

"Try both?"

"You wanna hear how it sounds?"

Myungsoo parted his lips for a moment, then shut them closed after a while. "Fire away," Myungsoo said, and Baekhyun started singing. Only ten minutes after, once he was satisfied with his refined version of his song, did he stop and mumble a small sound of gratitude to Myungsoo. And then, as if he didn't know whether the choked 'thanks' was enough, he sat next to Myungsoo and gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

Baekhyun fell asleep after that, his left temple digging into Myungsoo's shoulder whenever he leaned that way in his sleep. So Myungsoo snaked an arm around Baekhyun and slid his hand further up until he could guide Baekhyun's head to his shoulder. Baekhyun hummed a little in response, then moved even closer. The vibrations tickled his skin. Baekhyun's full weight on his shoulder didn't hurt much, but the press of Baekhyun's hand on his thigh did. It left an imprint on his pants just shallow enough that he could even out the surface again by running his hand on that sore area,

When the driver woke Myungsoo up to say that they've reached his stop, Myungsoo had to gingerly pry himself from Baekhyun's hold. "Rest well, kid," he whispered, then pulled away. He shut the door behind him quickly, even before he could think of looking back.

He reaches for a small pillow now, the closest to him, and tucks his chin on it. When his phone gives another beep, he reaches for it but doesn't read the message. Instead, he pulls up his message thread with Howon and texts, wat do u do wen nightmares keep haunting u

is this a trick question?? :o, Howon replies. A few seconds after, another message comes in, well i heard changing sleeping positions helps. or talking it out. uknow that thing about telling people about your dreamsnightmares so they don't– Another beep, another message, this one saying, dreams/nightmares so they don't become real? sorry hit the send button by accident :c

wait bro nightmares don't haunt people. wtf are you talking about.

lol it was good until the last text, Myungsoo replies. go to bed, wise man. c u tmr we open at 11 ryt? not 10?

right-o! Howon replies, then signs off with a plethora of stickers. Myungsoo replies with a sticker of a panda tucked in bed and some text above his head.

The panda looks so peaceful in his sleep. If only the same can happen to him.

He's prepared to turn off the lights and call it a night when he hears his phone beep again, two short notes in succession. He reaches for his phone, then, and checks his messages – three unread ones, one from Sunggyu and two from Baekhyun.

just saw this, sorry. get some rest. and thanks for calling baekhyun out on the curls thing. told him that before but he kept saying i was too exposed to the style already that maybe i just wanted him to try something new FOR A CHANGE, Sunggyu says. The next line has a series of emojis and exclamation points. At the very end, a sign off saying, btw HE called me yesterday, asked for your number. said he saw you the other day in ilsan with a 'kid' in plaid polo? is there anything you want to tell me?!?! O__O

Myungsoo shakes his head and shuts his eyes tight. He lets his fingers operate on auto-pilot, typing a reply that he hopes will appease Sunggyu. lol let's talk abt that next time. too sleepy. gnight hyung chu.

gross. go to bed. good night, Sunggyu says in reply. btw don't forget, coffee on saturday. my treat because i can't summon you without bribing you. GOOD NIGHT!!!

"Good night," he whispers under his breath. He moves to the next message, fingers trembling in the cold as he clicks on Baekhyun's name. "Oh, wow."

He runs his thumb along the box confining Baekhyun's message to a tiny space. tnx for the concrit. rly helpful. gonna keep those in mind for tomorrow's practice. hwaiting, me!! aja!! It sounds exactly like Baekhyun, like if Baekhyun's speech was ever translated into a text message or anything written, this would be it. No need for a safety recording or anything. Just one take. It's like one of those scenes that Myungsoo has shot for countless times already that he knows the right expose setting for them. Daylight white balance for offices with warm lights, f 3.5 for the shutter opening and 1/80 for the speed. Cloudy for overcast skies, then a combination of f 8 and 1/125 to 1/250 for the speed depending on the type of effect he's trying to achieve. Sometimes it isn't all about adhering to the perfect colors for a picture – no greens in the skin tone, no blues and yellows on white surfaces. You also have to keep in mind the 'feel' of the photo you're gunning for. Should it be warm and candid? High fashion and a bit muted? How about dreamy or otherworldly? It's important to know your goal when taking photos.

If Baekhyun were a photographer, his style would probably be aiming for dark hues, bright reds turning into maroons and yellows turning into ochre. An off-center shot. A soft black vignette to frame the subject.

If Baekhyun were the model – Myungsoo's model – then– Myungsoo isn't quite sure yet of what will work best for Baekhyun. All he knows is that he wants to see that bright smile again where Baekhyun looks as if laughter has taken control of every fiber of his being. He wants to hear Baekhyun's laughter through the photos at the risk of overexposure. He wants to see more of that smile so he can frame it in his mind before the lights – before Baekhyun's idol life – washes out his natural smile and replaces it with something calculated and practice. Templated.

also ur welcome to watch my practices anytime :) sunggyu-hyung already said yes. you can be my shadow mentor kekeke :3

Myungsoo takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes, but only succeeds in pricking his irises with his still cold bangs. He blows at his hair, then, and types up a quick reply before turning off his phone.

glad 2 help. good luck w idol life. i'll try to be around whenever i can.

Baekhyun's reply comes in only two seconds after. kekeke looking forward to it ;)

ミ☆

"And that's it," Howon says. He locks the door, then plays with the keyring with his index finger. "Too fast, man. Too fast. Didn't even feel that exhibit coming to an end."

Myungsoo shrugs and slings an arm around Howon's shoulder. Those three months of preparation already felt like a breeze; the actual exhibit felt like a gust of wind, lifting everything it touches off the ground and then putting them back down. He felt like a man with a purpose, a superhero trying to spark change in his city when they were ironing out the details of the exhibit, contacting the right people for the best possible exhibit ever. He felt like man on a mission the whole time they had their photographs up, or maybe a teacher trying to make people see the other side of the mundane. And now... he feels like a happy kid on Christmas day. He sold all his photographs and all the buyers are set to pay him next week. There's no reason to not feel like a person who's finally experiencing Christmas in a warm house after spending it on the streets his whole life.

"Let's do another?" Myungsoo asks, laughing. Howon leans back a little, then socks him in his side with his elbow. "Hey, it's just a suggestion. Not forcing anything on you."

"You are. It's too good a suggestion to refuse," Howon grumbles. He laughs, just the same, then rests his head on Myungsoo's own. "The preps were hell but the satisfaction–" He lets out a breathy sigh, then hums as he ends. Myungsoo looks to his side, taking in the smile on Howon's lips. He's always had such a boyish smile, the type that got girls in high school into trouble and got women in the workplace is a pretty tight situation. On one Valentine's Day at Red Balloon, Howon got three boxes of chocolates that all said, BE MINE??? He wasn't a fan of sweets, though, so he ended up giving two boxes – the heart-shaped ones – to Myungsoo.

"It stands for 'love yah'," Myungsoo recalls Howon saying. The long and heavy sigh from over his shoulder was too loud to go unnoticed. "Or maybe, 'marry me.'"

"Easy, boy. I'd appreciate a proper proposal. A ring would be nice."

Howon looked around and saw a tiny donut nearby. He picked it up and held it in front of Myungsoo's face, saying, "Will you be my donut buddy?" His face was so stern, so serious that if Myungsoo didn't know Howon was interested in the accounts executive handling Oreo who they got to work with a few months ago then he'd think that Howon was 50% serious. He nodded in response, nonetheless, and let out choked out a sob. Howon split the donut between them and announced, "You may now eat the donut."

"How about another next quarter? Or... sometime in spring?" Howon suggests now. He wiggles his eyebrows at Myungsoo. "What d'you think? Sounds exciting, yeah?"

"Weren't you planning to finally ask out Soojung after convincing her to join your comic book club?" Myungsoo asks, sticking out his tongue just a little as he ends. Howon narrows his eyes at him and growls. "I'm just reminding you about your schedule. You can hire me to be your assistant, bro. 'Myungsoo-yah, can you help me pick out an outfit for my date?' 'Myungsooo, help me, she's so pretty!'" His voice cracks at the last one as he shifts to a much higher register. Howon pulls away to slap him hard on his arm, but he presses on. "'Myungsoo-yah, which do you think will she like better? Roses or peonies–'" And then he loses it, laughter consuming him and tickling his insides so hard that his stomach lurches without a care in the world.

Howon grumbles, then kicks him in the calf. Casting one last look at the locked exhibit room, he slings his bag over his shoulder and turns on his heel. He grabs Myungsoo by the back of his shirt and pulls him along, not even looking over his shoulder to address Myungsoo's fit of laughter. When they do get on the lift, though, he whispers, "Peonies. She likes peonies best. They're her favorite."

Myungsoo coughs in lieu of losing himself to laughter again, the clears his throat to ease the tickling sensation inside him. "You asked her?" he begins, then, and tilts his head to the side as he continues, "You asked her out?"

"Well I didn't– I just–" Howon sucks in his bottom lip and closes his eyes. "She went to the exhibit the night you left pretty early and she saw my photo of the peonies and–"

The light you left pretty early– Howon means two nights ago, when his mind stopped functioning at ten in the evening and after selling his last photograph. He'd just closed the deal with the client and phone wouldn't stop buzzing in his pocket. So he fished for his phone and took the call from some unregistered number. Turned out it was Baekhyun using his 'corporate line' or whoever else's number, asking if he could come over to give feedback on his singing. "Of course, I'd understand if you're busy–" He wasn't. He was simply going around, entertaining some of Howon's guests whose names escaped him. He could make out Woohyun's face from a few feet away, but it could've been just him seeing things. Fatigue does that to you, fucks up with your vision and causes you to fuck up.

He shook his head then and said, "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Eighth floor, right?"

"–I mean, really, I know you have a lot on your plate so hold up–" Baekhyun hummed. A beat then he recovered, saying, "Yeah, eighth floor. Same old room. The one at the far back. And it's still Officer Lu who's on duty so you shouldn't have trouble getting inside."

And he didn't. The security recognized him at once, but still tried getting in touch with Sunggyu to ask if he asked Myungsoo to come over. On a different phone conversation, Sunggyu said, "Hey Soo, I'm really sorry but I think my boy's taken a liking to you. He thinks you're some expert on music–" He cleared his throat, then continued, this time in a more faint voice, "–and you are, but he doesn't have to know that because he'll just bug you about it–"

"It's fine. I was bored out of my wits, anyway," he reasoned. A bow to Officer Lu, and then, "Oh, you sent Baekhyun to pick me up."

Before him, Baekhyun shook his head. "He didn't. I just heard you two talking so I sort of snuck out and–"

"Bring him back here," Sunggyu groaned.

"Roger," Myungsoo said, laughing a little. Still, he let Baekhyun guide him to the practice room at the eighth floor.

His phone buzzes in his pocket now, when they step out of the elevator. He digs one hand in his pocket and whips it out. Two messages, one from Baekhyun and the other from Sunggyu. Baekhyun's says, practice might end earlier than expected... if ur still in coex it's probs better to not go to sm anymore? There are no smileys, but there's a hint of the lilt Baekhyun's voice always carries around with him in the text.

he's kidding. he wants you to come over because he perfected the thing you asked him to do just minutes ago. looool, says Sunggyu's message. Another beep, and a green message bubble pops up. and i'm sort of craving some street food... wanna go to hongdae after this? weekend night life for the oldies? haha

but ur kid's coming along with us, he replies. From a corner of his eye, he sees Howon give him a funny look. "It's just Sunggyu-hyung and his kid," he explains. Howon shrugs, bottom lip jutted out but one corner of his tugged up in a small, small smile. Kind of like he isn't so sure of how to feel yet, or isn't sure how Myungsoo is feeling. Maybe it's both. "They're asking if I can go to SM and give the new talent feedback or something. I dunno. Some pseudo trainer kind of thing."

"So that's where you disappeared to the other night," Howon singsongs. He bumps his hip into Myungsoo's, then says, "I must say, that's a really lame excuse to get you to travel to SM. I expected more from Sunggyu-hyung, I really did."

"It's... not an excuse," Myungsoo mumbles. He checks his phone again when it beeps. A message from Baekhyun this time, saying, DON'T LISTEN TO SUNGGYU-HYUNG HE IS THE WORST. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing, but to no avail: the pull at the corners of his lips is too strong. His chest feels so full, it might burst anytime if he keeps everything inside much longer. So he lets out soft chuckles, each three seconds apart, measured so as to not startle Howon. "They really need my help. Besides, it's my fault; I offered the kid feedback even if he wasn't asking for it."

Howon furrows his eyebrows in question. "The kid? Wait, I missed the part where the whole going to SM thing isn't just about Sunggyu-hyung. What kid? Is he–" He inches away, leaning back. "This isn't about Woohyun, is it?"

It could be about Woohyun. He and Baekhyun have a couple of similarities. They both have interesting faces. They both have expressive eyes. They both sing well, but they sound different. Woohyun's voice is soulful, deep, leaves you with a dull ache in your chest that you won't even see coming. Baekhyun's, meanwhile, isn't the type of voice you'd easily fall in love with. He sounds good, can perform all these neat tricks with his voice, but he's not as polished in singing as Woohyun is. And it's the same thing that makes him sound so unique – there's a distinct tone, a subtle gravel to his voice that gives it a wonderful texture. There's a small crack in his voice that makes it sound so raw and untouched. That makes him sound so human. It's difficult to communicate vulnerability in songs when you've already memorized your material like the back of your hand. It's difficult to sing like you mean it when you have to maintain distance from the message of the song else you break down in front of your audience, your fans.

So it isn't about Woohyun. It's about Baekhyun and his inability to let a tiny mistake go until he resolves it. It's about Baekhyun who he's only known for a few days – for only a week – but whose singing voice and face he has already memorized. Not to the last detail, but he knows Baekhyun's features well enough that if he ever got lost in them, while studying the cracks on his lips, he can find his way back. He can pull away and focus his eyes on the mole above Baekhyun's lip, instead, and dig his hands in his pockets in an attempt to keep himself from reaching out to touch it.

"Nah, it's– Sunggyu-hyung's been assigned a new talent. The one SM's debuting after Red Velvet." Myungsoo types a quick reply to Baekhyun, saying, il b there gna catch a cab soon. His phone beeps again not too long after, but he doesn't pull up the new message. Instead, he stuffs his phone back in his pocket. Howon's eyes are still on him, focused and assessing.

Myungsoo shivers a little. This is why he hates it when the cameras are turned to him. When the studio lights are all turned on and set at maximum brightness, washing him out against the while background, he feels as if he's been cut wide open, dissected in front of everyone. Howon's stare prickles his skin, makes his insides toss and turn. He tries to swallow around the sinking sensation but it's too overwhelming, consuming. "He's... pretty amusing. Sings really well. I might be convinced to be a fan if his debut stage turns out amazing."

Howon hums. He squints then nods, slow and deliberate, almost as if he's finally digesting all the information and has formed his own conclusion on things. Maybe he has. Howon has always been quick on the uptake, after all. "A fan, huh? That's it?"

"That's it." That should be it. "What else should I do? Build a fansite for him or something?"

Howon snorts. He shakes his head, then rolls his eyes. "Come on, let's get you a cab. You have two boys waiting for you at SM. You better not make them wait forever." A heartbeat, then, "You wouldn't want to make them wait."

Myungsoo heaves a sigh. He can easily tell them both that he's tired from the egress, from cleaning up the exhibit hall and making sure that everything's in order. This isn't part of his program, after all. But what's a little disruption to his schedule. What's a bit of dissonance to the sound? What's a bit of camera shake when you're using digital and can easily take another shot at taking the perfect shot?

ミ☆

It's the fourth time in the past week that he's been to the SM building. If he had to, he'd already be able to navigate the halls of the eighth floor with his eyes closed. He doesn't, though. He keeps his eyes wide open in case he ever runs into an immovable object, in case he loses the feeling in his knees. Even the most careful of people jam their foot into a vending machine, after all; who's to stop an alien to this company from falling prey to the same thing?

He knocks on the door thrice, then presses his ear to the door. When he hears the music die down, he twists the knob and says, "Hi."

The first thing that greets him is Baekhyun's lopsided smile and his hair sticking to his face. His foot isn't bandaged anymore, which probably means he was practicing his routine for his carrier single earlier. "Didn't think you'd make it. We're... just wrapping up," Baekhyun says, then lets out a loud exhale. His forehead is glistening with sweat and his cheeks are flushed in exertion. The lone pimple on his cheek has bloomed into twins, the new red spot just a few inches away from where the first is. "Down to the last few rounds now. I can do two more runs of the ballad we... I mean the one I was working on. It sounds ten times better now." He wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, then wipes it on his track pants.

Disgusting, Myungsoo muses, but proof of hard work. He's done the same thing before, only his legacy to his camera is sweat stains on the screen below the viewfinder. It's gross and unsanitary but seeing marks there makes him think that hey, the photos I take are literally a product of sweat and tears. It's a twisted psychology that he's come to learn from Sunggyu. "I did promise I'd come, right?"

"And you haven't broken a promise yet," Sunggyu says. He walks over to where Myungsoo is and holds up his hand for a high-five. "Keep it up, kid."

"Not a kid, hyung," Myungsoo mumbles, but he inches closer and clashes his hand against Sunggyu's own. Their fingers find a nice fit, their fingers slotted between each other. It's a warm fit, almost so sentimental that Myungsoo feels a traitorous cold wrap around his throat. He remembers that time back in college, one of those days when trying to figure out what exactly it was that Woohyun wanted was more difficult than any other exam. Sunggyu did the same thing, except their hands were a bit smaller then. Myungsoo's was, as least. Sunggyu swallowed Myungsoo's trembling fingers with his hand, still sweaty from when he'd been carrying around tripods for their shoot. It felt disgusting at first because the slide of their fingers was sticky, but after a while Myungsoo leaned into the touch. And then in a slow, swaying motion, Sunggyu moved their intertwined hands like a pendulum, saying, 'Don't think about it too much. It's midterm week. You know how acads fuck up with his brain. Just– Give it some time. He'll come around. He'll come home to you.'

But that's like saying, 'give your passion a rest until your muse comes back.' Woohyun makes the otherwise boring blue sky look different when it's his bright red hair that's against it, when sunlight's shining down on his face and making the twinkle in his eyes shine all the more. Woohyun makes things that would normally be bland work. He is the color in black and white images, the point of focus. He's the only thing that's crisp and clear in a composition blurred by accidental motion – forward, plummeting heart-first into Woohyun's arms.

Stop, Myungsoo reminds himself. This isn't college; this is volunteer work. He's helping out a friend. He's not here to dig up old photos to sob about. "How many times do I have to tell you–" he says, then, bends Sunggyu's hand back, "–never to call me that ever again?"

A few feet away, Baekhyun snorts. "Way past the age of puberty and he still calls me a kid." He reaches out, maybe hoping to rest his hand on Myungsoo's shoulder, but he stops midway through. Instead, he drops it to his side and massages his back, his sides, his nape. Touches every part of him that his hand can reach save for Myungsoo. "I'm beginning to think he's developed a complex or something. Look, hyung, if there's anything you need to tell me, anything at all–"

Myungsoo feels Sunggyu's fingers stiffen. A blink, then it's gone. Sunggyu pulls away, then reaches over to ruffle Baekhyun's hair. "I'll stop calling you a kid when you stop acting like a twenty-eight-year-old puppy."

"Twenty-eight?" Myungsoo echoes. He turns to his side, meeting Baekhyun's gaze. "You're... twenty-eight?"

Being in the twenties is already a huge risk when you're an idol, as it is. There are people who still find success in the entertainment industry despite being of a ripe age, but they're few and far between. The last real twenty-something singer that SM was still able to make popular was Youngwoong Jaejoong, but everyone was sort of expecting him to not last too long. Sometimes, it isn't enough that you have talent. You also have to have the right ounce of naivety, child-like hope, the right amount of positivity to make it big and stay up there, among the ranks.

It's too early to tell, but maybe Baekhyun has exactly that – what it takes to actually spark something in this industry at the age of twenty-eight. He's still here, after all, trying to perfect his routine, dancing on a foot that he injured just a few days ago. And he's even planning to practice singing after that. Maybe it's blind faith that's fueling Baekhyun to keep pushing, to keep dreaming, but at least it got the job done. Right now, that's all that matters.

Baekhyun snorts now, then rubs the underside of his nose. "Save the age joke for another day. I really have to finish this last run so I can make you listen to the improved–" He cocks his head to the side and leans in, just a few inches forward. He's close enough that Myungsoo can make out his stubble, the small dots of red on his cheeks. There's still the ghost of his injury on his cheeks, a faint scar of his fall. Myungsoo drops his hand in front of him. "What's wrong with being twenty-eight?"

"Nothing. Just–" Myungsoo shakes his head. He catches Sunggyu examining the gaps between his own hands where Myungsoo's fingers once were. He pushes the voice in his mind at the very back of his head where its farthest from his ears. "Wow. I... admire your persistence."

Baekhyun's eyes widen for a moment, but only just. Soon, he's laughing a little, the tight knot of his eyebrows easing into an easy lift. "Some call it persistence. Others call it being plain stubborn."

"I prefer calling it dreaming and working towards it," Sunggyu offers. He pinches Baekhyun in his side, then adds, "He's twenty-eight, too," tilting his head in Myungsoo's direction. "So Soo, you have no right to make fun of his age or anything. And you, mister–"

Baekhyun gasps, but the shake of his head makes it look more exaggerated than ever. Myungsoo chuckles. "You called me mister–"

"You, little kid, are going back to the center of the room and dancing for us," Sunggu finishes, lips thinning into a straight line. He raises a finger when Baekhyun parts his lips as if preparing to say something. "Don't even think about making a joke out of it–"

"Kinky," Myungsoo comments, then hums. Sunggyu turns to him with wide eyes, then jabs him on the arm. "There, hyung, said it for you."

Myungsoo holds Sunggyu's stern gaze, but from a corner of his eye he can see Baekhyun furrowing his eyebrows. He's pressed his lips together again and he's covering his mouth with the back of his hand, like the shape of his mouth will give away whatever he's thinking about. Myungsoo blinks for a second, then, and turns to face Baekhyun so he can see him more clearly. There are crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his cheeks are tugged up, but the stretch of his mouth is covered by his hand. And it's frustrating. There's nothing wrong with revealing a bit of yourself through the quirk of the mouth or then gentle curl of the lips. There's nothing wrong about with baring one's teeth to smile. But Baekhyun makes it seem like a crime to spare someone a glimpse of his grin. It's as if SM told him, "Don't pull up the corners of your mouth too much. It scrunches up your face. It makes you look weird. And fans don't like that kind of idol face. That's not the kind of idol we've trained you to be."

"Asshole," Sunggyu mutters, and that's what reels Myungsoo back in. His body gives a tiny jerk and he looks back at Sunggyu in time to catch him shaking his head. Sunggyu lands one last punch to his side, connecting with his shoulder, and seethes when he feels a sharp pain in his knuckles. "Byun, practice. Now. As for you, stay in a corner. We'll need your input on his performance after the song."

"I'm not getting paid for this," Myungsoo mumbles, scoffing loud enough for Sunggyu to hear. When Sunggyu sticks out his leg in an effort to trip Myungsoo, Myungsoo sneers at him. "Chill, gramps. All I ask for is free food for the rest of my life."

"That's not fair."

Nothing's ever fair, he wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he answers, "Your talent's waiting for your signal. You better give it to him, hyung. Can't waste his precious time, yeah?"

Sunggyu sticks up his middle finger at Myungsoo this time, then presses the play button. Baekhyun takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and resurfaces a different person.

The Baekhyun Myungsoo has come to interact with on a regular basis disappears into thin air whenever the music comes on. Spotlight on him, and Baekhyun wears this new persona like a second skin he's too accustomed to wearing. He moves with a fluidity Myungsoo doesn't usually see during downtime, when there's nothing but his voice and white noise in the air. This is a different kind of movement, though, one Myungsoo hasn't seen Baekhyun possess before. He has improved in the few days that Myungsoo has known him. Maybe he's been practicing with some of SM's best choreographers. When you do something day in and day out, the same thing day in and day out, try to improve yourself, there's a slimmer chance of screwing up and a better chance of getting better.

Baekhyun does a pirouette and Myungsoo holds his breath, balls his hands into fists as he waits for Baekhyun to stop spinning. He's always had difficulty turning a complete circle before and he's only been able to do it once, but when he did it was wonderful. It was like watching a bird, a tiny bird still trying to get used to its wings, flap his wings for the first time. It was like watching Baekhyun stretch out his wings and take flight.

Baekhyun lands on his feet in a neat finish. Snap. Baekhyun does a curtsy and his hair falls to his face, sticking to his skin, but not quite enough to shield the small smile on his lips from his view. Snap. Baekhyun turns to them, eyes bright and hopeful, the same confident smile that was on his lips earlier replaced by something more uncertain now. Something more Baekhyun and less of the Baekhyun who had been dancing earlier. His lips are parted, the corners of his mouth tugged up, and his entire face is smiling like he's just put on the greatest performance yet. Still, his voice shakes when he asks, "So how was it?" His lips quiver for a moment, then he's worrying his bottom lip again and nibbling on it like it can make the nervousness dissipate along with the fading notes of the song.

"Hey. Hyung. Myung...soo." He gulps hard. "How was the thing?"

It's a thing of beauty, Myungsoo wants to say, but he can't say there aren't any flaws in the performance. Baekhyun could've done better, could've not dragged his foot to the next beat after the first chorus, but this is his best performance to date. And he's dancing on a recovering foot, even. Dancing is ten times harder when part of you is injured, out of commission. The injury attacks both the body of the soul. It wasn't apparent earlier, though, that Baekhyun was suffering from both. All Myungsoo saw was Baekhyun performing, relaying the message of his self-composed song through both his vocals and the dance.

So he takes a deep breath and turns to Sunggyu, cocking an eyebrow at him. He's an outsider here, a spectator. If there's anyone that Baekhyun has to impress, it's Sunggyu who's been monitoring his progress since day one.

"Wonderful," Sunggyu says. Myungsoo raises his eyebrows in response, then nods. Baekhyun gasps, maybe even squeals a little. He presses his lips together but there's no denying the tiny squeak coming from the back of his throat. "You've outdone yourself, Baek. I'm really proud of you."

Baekhyun widens his eyes and leans back. The corners of his eyes are watery, glistening too hard in the bright and harsh lighting in the practice room. He looks as if he's seconds away from bawling his eyes out, so Myungsoo simply holds two thumbs up in his direction. "You're doing really great. Keep it up," he mutters soon after, and Baekhyun's cheeks flush a soft shade of pink. His ears turn red, though, giving him away. And the tip of his nose, as well. Then Baekhyun's lips are falling open into a teeth-baring grin, a smile that really reaches his eyes and lights up his entire face. Myungsoo slips his hands in his pockets, feeling around for his phone. This is it, he muses, this is the perfect shot he's been waiting for. All he has to do is whip out a camera and start snapping away. Or maybe borrow a DSLR or any point-and-shoot camera from the first person he sees in the corridors. Offer whatever help he can give just to borrow the camera for one photo. Please, it's important– It doesn't matter how high the shutter count is; he just has to take a photo of this moment, have it printed, then have it framed. Then he'll return the camera, no questions asked.

He feels the edge of his phone against the pads of his fingers. He doesn't reach for it, but he does ball his hands into fists. He only has his eyes and his hands now, his fingers that are trembling in... fatigue? In the cool temperature? In something he can't seem to pinpoint? He isn't sure. So he does what comes naturally to him – he holds up index fingers and thumbs in an L and frames Baekhyun's face. Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows for a moment, but he doesn't move away. He pins Baekhyun in place, then, and makes a strange shutter sound that only makes sense to him in his head. Baekhyun's lips quiver – snap – and then he's shaking his head, laughing just a little before turning back to the camera. Snap. Then he's turning to Myungsoo, looking into the 'lens', saying, "You're crazy. Stop–" But he's still smiling. So Myungsoo snaps without a care in the world, recording this moment until he feels the tightness in his throat ease.

"Was it really good?" Baekhyun asks later, long after he's finished making Myungsoo listen to the 'improved' version of the ballad.

Myungsoo shrugs and looks away. When he feels Baekhyun twisting his elbow in his side, he gives in, saying, "Hey– Ow! It was great, okay! The best song ever!" Baekhyun keeps his elbow there, anyway, as if he means to make Myungsoo regret that split-second of indecision. He only ever succeeds in keeping Myungsoo close enough for the heat of his body to seep into Myungsoo's skin.

ミ☆

Myungsoo wraps his fingers around Sunggyu's wrist and whispers, "I'll do it."

Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him. He has one hand on the lock of the van's door and the other on his lap. The van has come to a complete halt. There's nothing here to muffle Myungsoo's words, not even the low humming of the engine. Still, the confusion in Sunggyu's eyes doesn't fade just yet. "You'll– Oh," he whispers after a while, and then he's nodding in acknowledgement. Even in the dim lighting, Myungsoo can make out the subtle movement of Sunggyu's muscles. His eyebrows give a funny twitch. His cheeks are tugged up. His lips are quirked up into half a smile and half something else that Myungsoo can't seem to pinpoint at the moment. And he can feel the strong and heavy beating of Sunggyu's pulse on his skin when Sunggyu gives his hand a light squeeze. "Are... Are you sure?"

"No," he answers, earnest, but then he can't get the look on Baekhyun's face earlier out of his mind. Baekhyun's eyes were glimmering and even in the harsh, bright lighting in the practice room, his features looked so soft. Baekhyun was laughing, cackling without a care in the world. And Baekhyun was smiling at him. Baekhyun had his eyes on him like he was the only thing, the only person in the world who mattered at the moment.

And Myungsoo couldn't look away.

"I'm not sure but... I want to give it a shot. I mean, how long has it been since I last did a real photoshoot? Of humans?" He laughs, shaking his head. "It's been years since I last did portraiture and–"

"The kid in the picture, though."

"That was incidental."

"Whatever you say," Sunggyu says, humming. "I have to get down from my stop now, though. "Remember, he lives farther away from the rest of us and he has an 8 a.m. call time. He has to get home soon," Sunggyu says, cocking his head in Baekhyun's direction.

Myungsoo chuckles. He looks over his shoulder, at the sleeping figure on the seat behind his. Baekhyun's fast asleep, slumped in his chair and his mouth moving is weird, lazy patterns. It's almost as if he's talking to someone or a lot of people in his sleep. Or maybe he's singing, because he's furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head in the same manner that he does when he's belting out certain parts of his song. Then he makes this tiny sound, like a gurgle at the back of his throat or maybe a whimper, and Myungsoo has to resist the urge to reach out and smoothen the crease on his forehead, to ease the knot of his eyebrows. He has to resist the urge to rest Baekhyun's head on his lap and tell him, in a soft voice, 'You can rest. Stop practicing. You're already the best.'

"I'll do it," he says again, slower this time, enunciating each syllable without mumbling his words. He swallows around the tightness in his throat then unwraps his fingers from Sunggyu's wrist. "I'll... do what you want me to do."

Sunggyu gives him one last look, then he's turning around to open the door of the van. "Thank you. It... really means a lot," he says over his shoulder, then shuts the door behind him. The engine roars back to life at the same time that Baekhyun lets out a high-pitched whine. It doesn't sound like one of his high notes – it sounds like a complaint, a groan that says, 'Can I take a break, please? Please?' So Myungsoo moves to where Baekhyun is, makes space for himself and rests Baekhyun's head on his lap. He threads his fingers through Baekhyun's hair, gives his scalp a light massage, not minding the sticky slide of the strands against his skin.

Baekhyun lets out a faint giggle, then leans into the touch. Myungsoo gulps down the funny sensation crawling up his throat then plummeting to the pit of his stomach, and brushes his knuckles along the curve of Baekhyun's cheek. When Baekhyun hums, lips curving up into a smile, he doesn't look away. Instead, he keeps his eyes on Baekhyun, watching his every movement, feeling the shift of his muscles against his own.

He keeps clicking.

one | two | three | four | five