Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

All the colors of the Devil. He saw them, pondering on the sealed wood pews, harsh in their embrace like the confirmation of the Father, made of a love so rigid it sometimes felt like the back of a hand. But it never wavered. Neither the hand, the prayer, or the pew, and Choi Soobin kneeled in the presence of all three.

Rather than ponder, he should focus on his own hands folded in his lap, or the verses rehearsed and repeated Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday. It was Sunday once again. Service held the doors open for his family, those who raised him, those who empowered him, for his community, and for his friends. Those he had known since childhood, grown out of their church pastels into their Sunday whites.

Colors. They all wore white, blue, and the softest shades of brown. It had never really caught Soobin’s attention before.

But when Choi Yeonjun walked into their Sunday morning service in his crisp white God-faring collared shirt, Soobin’s thoughts were taken prisoner. Held hostage by the immaculate steam of the sleeves, how evenly ironed his tan slacks were. How instead of humbly taking his seat in front, the seat that had been his since his parents first imagined his existence, he mingled with their neighbors, laughing and smiling. Tilting his head back in that same way, terribly charismatic as he brushed off every mention of him needing a haircut with a shrug and bright gleaming eyes. When he held hands with their aunties, the ones that had raised them both, his grip was gentle, disguising calluses and tremors.

How not a single one of them could see that the light behind Choi Yeonjun’s eyes was not joy but mania escaped Soobin every time they sat for service.

Choi Yeonjun: a son, a Catholic, and a sinner. An addict and a smear on his family’s honor, never to be held accountable for his crimes.

Soobin could write a week’s worth of articles on the devastating scandal of his longest-standing neighbor, but none of them would be from an unbiased newsworthy source. Filled with disappointment and bitter vitriol, instead Soobin was more suited to sit and simmer on his pew and stare pointedly at the legs of his own dark blue slacks than Choi Yeonjun’s deception of a pure white shirt.

To his left, his mother leaned over and quietly remarked, “Yeonjunnie needs a haircut, don’t you think?”

It made him nervous, hearing his mother call Choi Yeonjun so fondly, but then again, why wouldn’t she? She had known him since he was in diapers. She had known Choi Yeonjun before she knew Soobin, her own son, technically, with Soobin being a year younger. Their parents were friends. They grew up going to this same church, attending the same service, the same weekly masses and Bible studies, and listening to the same pastors. Yeonjun sat up in the front row with his parents, who had already stopped by to greet Soobin and his mother. It was moments like that which made Soobin glad Choi Yeonjun always arrived late. He didn’t know if he could exchange more than a look with him, let alone a word.

“Yes,” Soobin replied, but refused to look towards the subject in question. He didn’t say anything else because none of his thoughts were kind or helpful.

“You’d think his mother would just sit him down and cut it.”

He really didn’t want to spend his Sunday morning discussing Yeonjun’s awful long black hair, which looked messy and lazy and unprofessional, and every other dismissive adjective Soobin could throw at it. Then again, Yeonjun didn’t need to look professional. Not for his chosen career.

Soobin knew what he did in the dark, likely the only person in their congregation who knew Yeonjun's little secret, and only because his own job demanded he be nosy.

“She’s probably tried,” Soobin offered, flexing his hands in an attempt to calm down. He wasn’t sure why he was so easy to rile up that morning. “I doubt he was cooperative.”

“It’s not right to assume things about people like that,” his mother chided. “When was the last time you and he talked, anyway?”

Usually, Soobin did an excellent job of side-stepping the pre-service gossip that every congregation fell victim to. He listened, and nodded, and maintained his polite solace all the way through until the pastor began leading them in the word of God.

But with his own mother as the perpetrator, it became significantly more difficult to dodge.

“Not long,” he answered, and it was true. After all, Soobin and Choi Yeonjun had a lovely conversation after Tuesday night mass. Long after everyone else had left, in the flickering candlelight of the alcove by the entrance. Yeonjun had been amber, the color of nighttime and whiskey, trying to reach his blackened devil’s fingers into the white of Soobin’s faith.

“Soobin,” a silky voice summoned him as he walked past, headed for the doors after service. He had stayed behind to help clean up, and was leaving long after the room had cleared. He froze in his tracks, and looked to his left where Choi Yeonjun leaned against the stone wall, hidden in shadows.

With half a mind to walk straight past and ignore whatever trial was being thrown his way, he swallowed a sharp remark and instead asked coolly, “What?”

“You weren’t here last night,” Yeonjun noted, crossing his arms in front of his body. He wasn’t wearing his one nice collared shirt. Instead, he wore a black tank top, over which a black and white flannel attempted to preserve his modesty. “No Monday night mass for you anymore?”

The way he asked it was suggestive, leading Soobin to an answer. As if it would be a personal victory for him if Soobin stopped attending on Mondays.

Slowly, he shook his head. He couldn’t act antagonized. Yeonjun technically hadn’t done anything to him. He never technically did anything to him. He just talked and laid cyclical traps that Soobin fell into like clockwork. “I work late on Mondays now. I can’t make it on time.”

“Sacrificing God for greed?” Yeonjun pushed, and the quirk of his lips revealed just how much he enjoyed pushing Soobin’s buttons. “That’s not like you.”

Immediately, the need to defend himself rose up in Soobin, and he quickly retorted, “I’m here four days a week. There’s nothing selfish about the way I practice.”

Yeonjun shrugged, although he pursed his lips before slyly remarking, “Better Catholics than you are here seven days a week.”

Rather than take the bait, Soobin simply replied, “I hope you aren’t counting yourself among them. This is the first time I’ve seen you at mass since high school.”

“My relationship with God is private.” Yeonjun said it as if making a joke meant only for himself. And when he spoke, his next words were whispered on light, exhilarated breaths. “But I pray in public from time to time. It’s kind of exciting in a perverted way. And you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me.”

Shocked, Soobin took a step back from him, while simultaneously attempting to rationalize the words that just came out of his mouth. He made his hour of worship sound like…something else entirely.

It was true that Soobin had glanced his way once or twice during prayer. He shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t help himself. It was just so strange to see Yeonjun in the pews on a day other than Sunday, dressed in casual dark attire, covered in silver jewelry. As if he didn't care at all who saw.

"I-" He struggled to respond, and Yeonjun's self-satisfaction only grew. So much he seemed to be glowing with it.

"That's alright, Soobin-ah. You can worship however you like." And then he glanced at his wrist, drawing Soobin's attention to the slick silver watch he wore. An accessory he had never seen Yeonjun sporting before. It was a bit dated. Not really like him, if Soobin gave it more thought. He always thought of Yeonjun as modern and flimsy, batted back and forth by whatever trend caught his eye in the moment. "Well, if you're going to keep me out late, the least you could do is walk me out the door."

Soobin held his ground. "I'll pass."

Yeonjun's eyes narrowed, a feline predator sizing him up before delivering yet another blow. "You know, you're much crueler than a Christian ought to be. Do you talk to your mother with all that vitriol?" Without giving Soobin a chance to regain his footing in their conversation, he leaned in and added with a hiss between his teeth, "She's a nice woman. I'll never know how she raised a son like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Soobin crossed his arms, trying to preserve his standing and not let Yeonjun see how easily his words shook him.

"You put on a good mask, but I've never met someone with so much disdain for the world around them." Yeonjun got out of his face then, giving Soobin a chance to breathe, and looked more irritated than anything when he said, "You used to be way more fun to be around. Whatever happened to that guy?"

Teeth gritted, Soobin replied, "He grew up. And stopped hanging around bad influences."

Lips pursed, Yeonjun took a second to reply, "Well, I hope the peace of mind in confessional is worth all the boredom and burnout."

Soobin raised his eyebrows. "You really think you know me, huh?"

"I know a lot of guys who went the same way." Yeonjun sounded distinctly unimpressed, as though Soobin wasn't special and rather a smaller part of a much larger and much more disappointing case study. Then he turned as if to leave, although he threw one last sharp sentence over his shoulder, one Soobin knew would slice into his skin and stay for a long time. "Maybe try finding God somewhere other than church."

It echoed in his head now as he sat, barely tuned into their pastor even while service began. His words faded into the background, and all Soobin heard was Maybe try finding God somewhere other than church.

Where? What kind of place had Yeonjun found God? And where did he think Soobin should go?

It wasn't that Soobin ever believed he lacked faith. He was devout, and didn't necessarily doubt God's plan. He had seen enough things work out in divine ways to preserve his belief. He just had no idea what God's plan was for him.

Soobin felt simple, wading through the motions of his own life since high school. He sort of had an idea then about where he was meant to go. Now, it felt like he'd found his place, but left something unfulfilled. Maybe that was the piece Yeonjun thought he needed to fine.

And then he internally chastised himself for giving any weight to Choi Yeonjun's words at all. He didn't know him, not like he used to. Just because they got along as kids didn't mean he understood where Soobin was at now. They'd barely spoken the past five years, and Yeonjun had turned into a complete stranger.

Soobin knew he was a musician, and it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. But the fact that he was so intent on keeping it a secret spelled trouble. Soobin only knew because one of his colleagues had done a piece about his band a year or so ago. It wasn't a critical piece, just short. A couple offhand mentions of up-and-coming acts when talking about things for bored locals to do in Seoul. In fact, the reason Soobin noticed at all was because he saw Yeonjun's picture on the printout at the copy machine. His face was the attention-grabbing tactic. Gorgeous, edgy, and nearly unrecognizable to him. He had lost nearly all of his baby fat. Doubled his amount of piercings and eyeliner. But it was the general distant look in his eyes that Soobin found uncomfortably unfamiliar. Yeonjun always seemed so...bright to him. At least he used to. Sure, he was a bit of a troublemaker, but not in an off-putting way. He was a playful kid. Nosy, but good-natured.

He didn't know the guy on the front page of that article at all.

After that, Soobin's perspective towards him sort of shifted. They still ran into each other at church. Yeonjun was flighty most of the week, but always magically turned up on Sundays, even if his mom couldn't find him the rest of the week. Still dressed in a somewhat recognizable facade of church clothes and a clean face. But Soobin had noticed over the past year the hollowness of his cheeks and the shadows under his eyes. Visibly wrung out of energy like something was bleeding him dry.

They didn't talk much. Soobin had made one offhand remark about his appearance randomly, and Yeonjun took it personally. After that, there was no saving what he might have even called a friendship a long time ago.

"Are you still friends?" his own mother asked in her church voice, quiet to spare anyone else their gossip and pulling him from his musings of the past.

Soobin shrugged again. "Not really. He's hard to get a hold of. We stopped hanging out a while ago."

She pursed her lips. "Hm, that's a shame. I remember when the two of you were inseparable."

"Sure, when we were kids," he agreed, though admitting to it left him feeling somewhat embarrassed. "It hasn't been like that since he graduated high school, though."

"You know, I was talking with his mother the other day. He's apparently moved out on his own. Has a good job, pays his own bills and hers."

It was the kind of pointed remark that Soobin could only smile at.

"Do you want me to move out?"

"Goodness, no. Could you imagine how bored I'd be with only your father to talk to? I was only telling you because I was a little surprised. I didn't know he had found work."

"He's talented. And resourceful." That was all Soobin could say on the matter. He didn't particularly like Yeonjun, but he also wasn't about to tell all his secrets to his mother. Yeonjun didn't even know that Soobin knew. Therefore, it would probably serve them both better if he kept his mouth shut.

"Oh, quiet," his mom flapped her hand at him in a shushing gesture as their pastor entered onto the pulpit.

The same man since Soobin was a child. Nearing his fifties now, though age was kind to him, only lining his face with the faint traces of smiles. He wore the same pair of rectangular glasses, the same familiar clerical robe. He always held his hands as though embracing the spirit and holding it out to his congregation, welcoming them, once again, to another service.

The morning felt strange. Soobin sat and listened as their pastor led them in the word of God. Shadows and pale light filtered in through the stained glass windows. Yeonjun's eyes never wavered, tracing each word of the sermon with his own mouth. Even though his voice came out soft, it carried to Soobin's ears, filling in the blanks whenever he forgot a word of a long-memorized psalm. Echoing, doubling his own voice. A sort of out-of-body experience that left him confused but unable to look away. Yeonjun sat in the front row. Closest to their pastor. Of course he would draw his gaze whenever their pastor walked past, promising their salvation, how he would shepherd them to Heaven, to eternal life, in the footsteps of Jesus Christ.

And then he asked them to greet each other, to bestow blessings upon neighbors, and they rose from their pews. Yeonjun turned, locking eyes with Soobin. His heart jumped.

He had been caught watching him once again.

Murmurs of The Lord be with you multiplied within the nave. It happened every service.

But this time, Yeonjun stood and walked right up to Soobin. They hadn't done this in years. He smiled at him, and Soobin had no choice but to partake in this performance. He allowed Yeonjun to take his hands, feeling that his were warm and dry. He had a callous in the same place Soobin remembered, worked up over years of tightly gripping a pencil and cursing the page in front of him.

"What is this about?" Soobin murmured quietly, not bothering with the verse because he knew Yeonjun didn't intend to say it either.

"I was bored," Yeonjun replied. At least he was honest, and he matched Soobin's volume. "And you were staring."

"At our pastor?"

Yeonjun squeezed his hands. "At me. Practically burning holes. What did I do now?"

It didn't feel like he was messing with him in that moment, and truthfully, he was right. Soobin had been staring. It would be hypocritical of him to lie. "Nothing. My mom just talked about you a lot earlier. So I guess it was on my mind."

"I was on your mind?"

Soobin glared at him. "It wasn't like that." And then, because he just didn't know how to be nice to him anymore, he remarked, "She says you need a haircut. She's right."

Yeonjun raised his eyebrows. "I'll take it under consideration," he said, which was Yeonjun-speak for thanks but no thanks. They were supposed to use this time to greet and bless as many of their fellow congregation as possible. But instead, neither of them moved even as the tide of people flowed around them. "How's your journalist job going?"

"You know about that?"

"Your mom isn't the only one who talks."

Fair enough. He shrugged. "Good. I write. They pay me. It could be worse."

"What do you write about?"

It was a strange morning indeed. It almost felt like Yeonjun was being kind. Maybe Soobin should have embraced his approach with more warmth. Was he the bad guy in this situation?

"Usually local events. Things specific to Seoul. Festivals, music shows, craft fairs. I do the arts sector."

"Not politics?"

Horrified by the idea, Soobin shook his head. "Goodness, no."

Yeonjun smiled again. The pale light and high ceilings painted his skin in purity, making the redness of his full lips and darkness of his long hair that much starker. "Doesn't sound too bad."

Between the stained glass and the fog in his brain, Yeonjun's words drifted like gossamer, lost in his mental cloud and the filtering light. As if in a dream.

"It's not," he agreed. "How is..." he hesitated, wondering if he should reveal he knew Yeonjun's secret. Wasn't it more dishonest to hide the truth from him? "...your...band?"

Eyes widened, Yeonjun's lips parted -never in reverie, still managing exaltation- but he didn't say anything at first. Finally, he found a few words. "Oh. It's good. I didn't know..."

"I just know because of my job. It's not...I didn't tell anyone."

Yeonjun nodded. "Cool. Yeah, it's great. I'd invite you, but I don't think you'd enjoy yourself."

He would invite him? Why?

"Probably not, but thanks for the thought."

He nodded again. Things had gotten awkward. Yeonjun just squeezed his hands once more. "The Lord be with you."

"And with your spirit," Soobin returned automatically.

With that, Yeonjun drifted away, like a flickering shade through the living, though he greeted Soobin's mother before floating back to his seat on the pews, their pastor calling them to return.

Shamefully, Soobin tuned out for the rest of the sermon. He couldn't help himself. Every time he tried to refocus, he heard Yeonjun's voice in his head, his words on a constant loop, stuck wondering why today of all days he had decided to approach him with kindness. Maybe he had heard him talking before service. Maybe their conversation the other week had stuck with him as well.

After communion, after the sermon concluded, Yeonjun didn't spare him a glance, holding his mother's hand as they walked out the door together.

"Do you think he misses his father?" Soobin's own mother murmured as they followed out the door.

"Woah, mom. I have no idea. Don't you think that's a little personal?"

"I was just wondering if he had ever talked about it," she defended herself. Soobin loved her more than anything, but she was truly a terrible gossip. Outside, the sun had slowly started gaining strength. Summer was dying, and in its place, leaves began to fall. Still, the air felt warm enough as they began the short walk back home.

"Not in years and years. I doubt he really cares anymore."

"That's not the sort of thing someone just stops caring about."

"Probably," he agreed. "But it would be hard to think about all the time."

"Stories like his and his mother's make me happier and happier that I married your father, you know."

"It's good to be grateful for your blessings," he agreed absentmindedly.

She playfully nudged his arm. "You could be more grateful, too."

"I am grateful," he replied indignantly. "I love Dad. I just think he could make an effort to be home more. When was the last time he came to mass with us?"

"He works very hard, Soobin-ah."

"He could afford to slow down. He's got two sons supporting the house now. I'm worried he's going to work himself to death."

His mother sighed, but waved a hand. "You know how office culture is. Besides, he's got friends at work. He's happy there. It's harder to take away a man from his job than you think, even for just a few hours."

Soobin frowned. "I would gladly work less."

"Well, that's your generation."

He didn't really have any way to argue with that. At least, not one that wouldn't sound like he was trying to dismantle the status quo of the generations preceding his own.

When they got back to the restaurant, Kai was already standing outside beside his locked up bike, phone in hand. His platinum blond hair was wind-ruffled, and he had his apron tossed over his shoulder, freshly washed. But as soon as he saw them approaching, he waved like he did every Sunday and jogged over to meet them halfway.

"Morning, boss," he greeted his mom, then said, "Hey!" to Soobin brightly.

His mom beamed at Kai, enamoured with the sight of him no matter how many days passed. "Good morning, Kai-yah."

"How was church?" he asked, falling into step beside Soobin.

"Fine," Soobin replied.

At the same time, his mother said, "Oh, just lovely. Father Kim gave an excellent sermon today, the whole congregation was moved. He's so dedicated to his work."

Kai said, "That's great," but glanced at Soobin as if to gauge his reaction and they ended up exchanging looks. “What needs to be done before opening today?”

“Not much, we swept and took everything out last night. The tables could use a nice refresher, though, and I’ll throw a fresh pot of coffee on. Soobin-ah, any chance you have a hand or two to spare?”

“Sure,” he agreed readily enough. He didn’t necessarily want to but it was the right thing to do.

"Great, you can wipe down the tables and Kai honey, can you make sure everything's stocked? Napkins, chopsticks, you know, the works?"

"Sure!" Kai agreed with far more enthusiasm. The three of them got to work preparing the restaurant for opening, and after a while, Kai sidled up to the table he was wiping down and noted, "You've got a bee in your bonnet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's a turn of phrase," Kai explained. "Means you're thinking about something and can't get it out of your head."

"Am not," Soobin mumbled, scrubbing a particularly tough chili oil stain from the night before.

"Are too," he argued pointedly, even though the two of them probably sounded like a pair of elementary schoolers. "I can see it on your face. What happened at church?"

"Nothing happened." It felt too miniscule and ridiculous to try and explain. "It was just weird."

"Which part?"

Relenting, Soobin sighed. "Yeonjun."

"Ah." They all grew up in the same neighborhood. Of course Kai knew who he was referring to. Besides, he was the friend who stepped in when he and Yeonjun had their falling out. "What's up with him? Still avoiding everyone?"

"No, he was perfectly pleasant today. Mingled with the whole congregation. Even came to talk to me before communion. Like...actually talk to me. He didn't just say hi. He asked about my life and work, and it was just...weird."

"Maybe he's trying to fix things," Kai suggested.

"Or he's trying to get in my head," he disagreed, considering the fact that he'd been able to think about nothing but Yeonjun since he spoke to him that morning.

"I don't think he's that deliberate."

"You don't know him as well as I do," he muttered.

Kai stayed silent on the matter, probably conceding that Soobin knew what he was talking about.

"Is your brother here?" he eventually asked.

"Yeah, he's probably upstairs working on the expenses. Why?"

"I need to ask him about my last paycheck. I think he duplicated an entry."

"That's nice of you."

"I don't want to take money that I haven't earned."

"Fair enough." Soobin turned, moving to the table to his left while Kai restocked the one he just finished cleaning. "Do you still live on campus?"

"No, I moved back in with my parents over the summer. It got too expensive."

"Aw, I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It's not a huge deal. Obviously, I'm kind of bummed to not be living with my friends anymore, but it means I can help out my parents."

Soobin could tell it meant more to him than he was letting on. "But then you're basically working for them again."

Again, Kai just shrugged. "It's not so bad."

"Kai-yah, that's three jobs. Here, your parents' laundromat, and school."

"Four, technically."

"What's the fourth?"

He shook his head. "Never mind. Point is, yeah, I'm a little busier, but I can manage."

"How are you getting to class?"

"Bus."

Still doubtful, Soobin just said, "Alright," patting him on the shoulder before moving on to his next table. "Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"Yes, sir," he jokingly replied in an attempt to lighten the mood. "We open in fifteen, we'd better crack down on these tables."

"On it, boss," Soobin saluted him.

"Soobin-ah!" he heard his mom call from the kitchen just as he was wrapping up, and he hurried over, pushing in the door to find her holding a stack of mail, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. As soon as she saw him, she waved the mail in his face. "We got Choi Seoyeon's mail again. Can you take it to her, please?"

Soobin eyed it uncomfortably. "That sounds like a job for your business manager."

"Don't volunteer your brother for extra work. You have nothing to do all day."

"Because it's my day off," he defended himself, argument lighthearted. He wasn't actually trying to fight. "Just like Wednesday is Eunhak's day off."

Unfortunately, his mother wasn't having it. "Well, your day off just happened to fall on the day we got Choi Seoyeon's mail. So please be a good neighbor and a good son, and deliver it to her."

"Yes, mom," he gave in, accepting the stack she passed to him along with his fate. With the kitchen door swinging shut behind him, he retrieved his bag from the hook by the door and slipped the mail inside.

"Heading out?" Kai asked.

"I'm apparently the postal service now," Soobin confirmed. "I'll be back in twenty minutes."

"Take your time," Kai waved him out.

Luckily, the sun remained high up in the sky, shining down on the narrow streets and warming him from the outside in. Wind rustled through the trees and hanging laundry lines overhead, shaking a few leaves loose that spiraled and fell at his feet.

Choi Seoyeon's house wasn't far, only a couple of blocks from theirs, closer to the church. The entire time Soobin walked, he prayed over and over for Yeonjun to be at his own place instead of his mother's. He would want to go home after church...right?

God had heard his prayers before, the last couple of times this had happened, and his mother had been the one to answer the door. Hopefully, God will hear him today, too.

It wasn't that much of a serendipitous intervention, their house always getting Yeonjun's mail. His own mother was named Choi Seoyoon. Just one letter off. Same with their street names.

The serendipitous part came in when Soobin knocked on their door, and it swung open not to reveal the answer to his prayers, but what he had been warding against.

Of course Yeonjun would spend Sunday afternoons with his mother.

They both just stood there for a moment, blinking at each other. Yeonjun had shed his church clothes. He looked paler, somehow, almost sickly as soon as he shed the facade of well-groomed compliance. He wore a ratty grey long-sleeve scoop-neck shirt, thin and far too fitted to his body. His black jeans were filled with holes. His hair was wet and plastered to his forehead, like he'd just gotten out of the shower. In fact, a distinct sweet scent-

Soobin woke himself from his stupor first and just said, "Mail," while rifling through his bag.

Yeonjun said nothing; instead, he leaned against his doorframe and watched Soobin try to collect all of his mail as quickly as possible. His arms were crossed and the way he stared made Soobin itch. Like his eyes saw beyond him simply standing on his doorstep. "No need to rush," he eventually said in a soft, leisurely voice. Somehow, he always managed to blur all of the words in a sentence, even when he said it slowly. Like he started the next before finishing the last, and because he spoke softly, they all came out the texture of marshmallows. "I'm not going anywhere."

His hands had started shaking at some point, making his task even that much more difficult. The pungent scent of lemon cleaner had begun to waft out the door as well, clogging his senses. It was like a gallon of it had been poured on the floor inside, covering up a fainter, but more burning scent of bleach.

"Why are you dressed like that?" he asked, trying to buy himself time. His hands weren't working the way he knew they should.

Yeonjun frowned, glancing down at himself. "Like what?"

"Like..." Soobin's mind went first to his pallid complexion, but in his frantic attempt to not be rude, switched to, "you can't afford new clothes."

"They're comfortable. I'll wear quality clothes until they're in tatters."

"Those are in tatters." He had no idea why he was nagging him. Just to fill the silence and separate himself from the intensity of his gaze, maybe.

"Soobin-ah, once again, no one asked for your unsolicited advice. Why are you so rude?"

"I'm not being rude." Finally, he managed to pull all the envelopes from his bag. He only fumbled them once, quickly catching the papers that threatened to spill. Every second he stood there was more embarrassing than the last. "I'm just pointing it out. Other people will start to notice."

Their entire lives were spread out across ten blocks of conformity and the comfort of compliance. If Yeonjun began standing out even more than he already did, Soobin couldn't guarantee their community would keep him.

Unfazed by the thought of others perceiving him, Yeonjun just remarked, "Could you imagine if I did that to you every time I saw you? You'd hate me." When he read the expression on Soobins' face, he added, "Well, at least more than you already do."

Before he could reply that he didn't hate anyone, even Yeonjun and his strange eyes and unsettling presence, a new voice called from inside, "Yeonjun-ah? Who's at the door?"

"Soobinnie," Yeonjun called back to his mother, tone softened to a degree Soobin knew he only reserved for her. It was like all the warmth of his childhood flooded back into his body.

"Soobinnie?" she called back, voice fluttery, and in a few moments, she appeared by Yeonjun's side. Pale and wispy, she always reminded Soobin of a hummingbird, fragile and dynamic, never remaining in the same spot for too long. Her short dark hair rested flat against her head and he had never seen her in anything besides a house dress that was two sizes too big for the past decade. "Oh, Soobin-ah," she greeted him, a delicate smile blooming on her face. He almost wanted to ask her not to exert the effort. Despite her beauty, he feared she could break at any moment. "How wonderful to see you."

They had seen each other just earlier that morning, but he felt it would be rude to remind her.

"You as well," he replied with a polite bow. He held out the pile of mail to her with both hands. "We've been getting your mail again. I hope it hasn't caused you too much trouble."

She shook her head and reached out a trembling hand but Yeonjun was quick to take the stack from him, shooting him a swift glare like he'd done him a personal offense.

"If anything, it's trouble for you," Yeonjun said nicely enough, though, resting a hand on his mother's shoulder. "Thanks for bringing it over."

"Soobin-ah, if you want to come inside..." his mother started, opening her hand to invite him in.

"I think he's busy today, mom." Once again, Yeonjun's voice went from barbs to cotton. The idea of having Soobin in his home seemed like it made all of Yeonjun's hair stand on end. "Maybe another time."

She blinked, glancing behind her. "Oh, how about tomorrow? I can clean and-"

"The house is already spotless, mom. Please don't wear yourself out. I'll ask Soobinnie when he's free and he can come over then."

They both knew that invitation would never be extended.

She glanced at Yeonjun then back at Soobin for only a second before seeming to grow very tired. With a nod, she clasped her hand over Yeonjun's on her shoulder before turning away and mumbling, "I think I'm going to go lay down."

"Okay," Yeonjun murmured, eyes downcast as she passed by. Watching her go, she took his warmth with her, leaving Yeonjun a cold shell on the threshold. The kindness faded from his smile.

Their exchange left Soobin with a distinct sense of...sadness.

When she was out of earshot, Yeonjun stepped down from the threshold and carefully shut the door behind him. But to his surprise, his words weren't hostile. "Sorry about that. I don't think she understands why you don't come over anymore."

"No, I'm-" Soobin swallowed, remembering his incessant digs towards Yeonjun earlier. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize she...anyway..."

It wasn't any of his business.

"She's not sick," Yeonjun said firmly, hearing the words he had left unsaid. "She just...needs to rest."

"Okay," Soobin quietly agreed, even though they both knew Yeonjun told himself that to cope with the reality of the situation. He swallowed again, a strange lump stuck in his throat that threatened to choke him every time he tried to grasp a memory. "Let me know if..." He shook his head. Yeonjun wouldn't want anything from him. "Forget it."

Sure enough, Yeonjun just crossed his arms and leaned once again against the doorframe. "Thanks for bringing the mail." His voice came out brisk, a cool dismissal if Soobin had ever heard one, and he nodded.

"See you next Sunday," was all Soobin knew how to say before turning around and heading back down the block, hands shoved in his pockets.

As soon as he got back to the restaurant, his mom was at the door, flipping their Open sign. "Thank you, dear," she said to him as he passed. "How is Seoyeon?" Despite his mother just now flipping the sign, Kai had already seated and taken the orders of two tables. Soobin could see him anxiously lingering by the kitchen counter with his hastily-scribbled tickets.

It was a more difficult question to answer than he'd thought it would be. "She seemed a bit...out of it. Yeonjun mentioned she needs rest these days."

His mother didn't look fazed. "That doesn't surprise me," she confirmed, closing the door behind him. "She's been on that awful medication for years. It's probably catching up with her."

"What medication?" He knew he probably shouldn't ask -it wasn't his business- but he followed her into the kitchen anyway.

"Lithium and barbital. She's a good woman, but her life came crashing down when her husband left and she hasn't been the same since."

"What does it do?"

She gave him a sharp look. "I'm not a doctor. Don't know for sure. Maybe you should ask Yeonjunnie if you're so curious."

"I'm definitely not doing that. It's really not my business. I was just worried when I saw her. She usually seems okay in church."

"Church is her safe space," his mother agreed with a nod. "It probably feels like the most normal thing she has. Well, that and her son, of course. Anyway, enough gossip, Soobin-ah!" She shook a towel at him. "You're like a housewife! Either get upstairs or get working."

He dodged out of the way of her towel and the job she tried to throw at him. He had a web novel waiting for him. "Yes, ma'am. See you tonight."

She muttered something about lazy and ungrateful sons but shooed him out with half a smile.

...

Printers humming, keys clacking. Coffee and A4, the crisp scent of productivity. Everything white and grey in a space meant to inspire. He tapped his pen against his desk, another rhythm in the office orchestra. Black words blurred on white pages no matter how many times he read over them. It was a ritual of routine, of doing the same thing over and over for the sake of doing something. Another pointless ceremony of life, but one in which he resigned himself to participation because it granted purpose in his otherwise listless existence.

He wanted to be a writer. Even investigative journalism would've satisfied some requirement of passion within him.

Instead, he sat there copy-editing university sports coverage. And quite frankly, he would rather gouge his eyes out with a spoon.

Well, perhaps he wouldn't go that far. While the gore sounded vindicating in theory, it would probably be pretty agonizing. He wasn't really cut out for that level of dramatics. He wasn't so spiteful.

But it would really make a statement.

"Choi Soobin-ssi," a man's voice spoke and startled Soobin from his morbid stupor. He straightened up to see his supervisor had materialized beside his desk.

"Yes, sir." He quickly got to his feet and bowed.

"New assignment." A packet of papers made their way into his hands. It was thick and promised hours of ardor. Still, anything was better than sitting there with nothing but God on his mind.

Mildly intrigued, Soobin scanned the front page, then flipped to the next, and the one after that. "I'm not really a music critic."

His supervisor shook his head. "No need to be a critic. Just report the facts. Then we can pass your reports onto the critics upstairs."

Soobin raised his eyebrows. "What, they won't go to the shows themselves?"

That earned him a short chuckle. "It's not cost-effective. You can go to the shows. Pick up hard copies of the music, there's room in the budget for that. Critics can listen to the music and read whatever you have to say for a full picture. It's much easier to send one young and eager journalist than a team of jaded industry professionals. Make sense?"

Still scanning the pages, he reluctantly agreed, "I suppose. Sure, I can do this." As he flipped through the briefings, though, he noticed something. "A lot of these bands play kind of seedy clubs."

His supervisor shrugged. "Yeah, the youth seem to be into that sort of thing right now. Cultural changes are on the horizon. We need to be at the forefront of history documenting everything. And uh, we means you."

They were all small local artists, some clearly a lot more tasteful than others based on the venues they played and the times their shows started. The folk and alternative or acoustic bands kicked in around eight at amphitheaters and reputable drinking spots. Then there were the groups listed under categories like punk, metal, gothic, and post-hardcore. Genres of music not only way out of his depth, but places he would never step foot in, at times he didn't think he'd ever been awake to experience on purpose. "Some of these guys don't even start until midnight," he groaned.

His supervisor clapped him on the back sympathetically. "You see why we have to send a twenty-four year old?" Soobin nodded, regrettably understanding all too well. "Look on the bright side, a lot of these shows are on Friday nights. You'll have all weekend to recover!"

"Thanks," he said, trying to sound grateful, but it was still through gritted teeth.

"Here, lets cut a deal," he offered. "If you have to go out on weekdays, you can come in late or write from home. Fair?"

That sounded more reasonable. Soobin nodded again, this time with less hesitation. "Yes, sir."

He liked the idea of working from home, all alone upstairs while everyone else was at the restaurant or at work. Finally alone for once.

His supervisor tapped the stack of papers in his hands. "I want you to hit every artist listed here at least once. But if you have to go twice for your article on whoever because you didn't get enough the first time, that's fine. We've already budgeted your tickets. Just call ahead of whatever show you're going to and secure permission to interview the artists."

"Okay. Just to be clear on the brief, this is my main focus now, right?" Not copy-editing, fingers crossed. "Writing articles for every new or up-and-coming artist we've identified in the local scene?"

"You got it. The beating musical heart of Seoul is your muse. The page is your canvas. And hey, if you handle this well, who knows what could come your way in the future. Now get to it, kid." He clapped him on the shoulder one more time, then waved. "Shoot me an email if you have any questions. Or just ping me if it's urgent." And with that, Soobin was left alone with quite the project suddenly on his hands.

It was overwhelming at first. With no clear starting point, he spent a long time just reading over the briefs of each local artist and trying to get a feel for what he should write about. The obvious choice seemed to be profile pieces. He wasn't a music critic, after all. It would make more sense to do biopics on various artists and groups, highlighting their journeys and what made them unique. Still, he worried that might be a boring read. He had a feeling that many of them would turn out pretty similar, and the last thing he wanted was for his writing to grow stale. Oversaturation killed market demand. He knew their readers would be interested in this sort of thing -they had a diverse demographic- but likely not in excess.

It would make the most sense to bounce between genres, then. Do individual pieces on different styles of music and spread them out. Things would stagnate quickly if he accidentally grouped three indie bands together in three weeks. So, he would simply have to be strategic in his approach. And with space to breathe between pieces, he could afford to be referential. It would sound too much like he was smug about his own work if he constantly referenced last week's article. But, if the relevant article happened to be a handful of weeks past, that might keep even the older pieces in the public's interest. Essentially, he could create his own demand in circulation if he played his cards right.

This wouldn't be a dull project, but it would be difficult. Every move had to be carefully planned, and he would have to be meticulous in his writing to make sure every profile came out distinct.

One thing that concerned him, however, was time. Musicians weren't known for being generous with it. He would be lucky to get fifteen minutes, let alone the hour he would need to interview every individual member in detail. As much as he hated compromise within his work, he knew he would have to cut corners somewhere. And unfortunately, that would likely be at the expense of individual interviews. Solo acts would be easy enough. Just a person and a guitar, he didn't need too much time. But for bands, he would focus on frontmen. And if other members wanted to contribute, he was all for it, but he knew he needed to be realistic. Frontmen were always more likely to agree to interview anyway. They were the face of the group for a reason, and that largely came down to charisma and communication skills. Not all lead vocalists were the world's best singers, but they had a certain stage presence few could emulate.

He kept flipping through the artists his boss identified until one band in particular caught his eye.

Aurora Violet.

Post-hardcore gothic rock band, active for two years. One full-length album and two EPs under their belt. No pictures, but the members themselves had been listed. Two names stuck out for strikingly different reasons. He didn't know the first two: guitarist Choi Beomgyu and bassist Kang Taehyun. But when he saw drummer Huening Kai he immediately felt confused.

His Huening Kai?

It wasn't a common name, so Soobin felt like they could only be the same person. He had always been into music, he was a classical piano major.

Apparently he had been a drummer all this time, too. And for an underground rock band, no less.

They would definitely need to have a conversation.

And then once again vocalist Choi Yeonjun sent him reeling. While a more common name, Soobin's gut told him the Choi Yeonjun in question was his own too.

He never knew the name of Yeonjun's band, he just saw his face on the cover of that article. And obviously, he had a suspicion it was something dark and even possibly a form of Satanic worship -the name didn't give anything away- but he was never going to purposefully seek out that information. He didn't want to know. He didn't want it to alter his entire worldview. No matter how badly he desired the details of Yeonjun's illicit lifestyle, he wouldn't ask. It just became his unspoken secret.

But here it was, outlined for him so plainly. This was Yeonjun's band. And Soobin would have to write a piece just for them. With highlights, interviews, exclusive photos, the works.

Post-hardcore gothic rock band. A handful of qualifiers. Confused, Soobin immediately clicked into Naver, searching post-hardcore. Apparently, post-hardcore was defined by its emphasis on the artful use of unconventional instruments and ideas within the punk-rock genre. Which he thinks separated itself from regular rock music through aggression and anti-systematic messaging. And he could understand gothic rock- that just meant it pulled from theatrical and grandiose gothic-era influences and styles in both music and presentation. Still, even the genre itself required research and the confrontation of his own belief on whether it was a form of art that could even be endorsed by God.

Suddenly, he didn't feel so keen on the assignment. He felt faint, afraid of what this leap of faith might demand of him. He considered writing an email to his supervisor, even composed the best way to back out in his head, maybe religious exemption or a family matter at home, pinpointed a coworker who could do the assignment just as well as him, created an elaborate excuse to take away his own work.

But the longer he thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded. Backing out of at least three months of solid, guaranteed work -real writing at that- just because he didn't want to be confronted with Yeonjun and whatever he represented to him? It was childish. He had a stronger backbone than that. They saw each other every week, technically. They were estranged, but they weren't strangers.

Besides, the assignment beat copy-editing any day. At least this was actual investigative work.

He could push Yeonjun's band off for as long as he wanted.

Or you could get it out of the way first, a little voice in his head whispered, and Soobin immediately resolved to go to prayer that night. Little voices like that would not be tolerated. He didn't like the way it came from the back of his mind, not entirely his own.

Still, as he checked his calendar against the dates every artist would be playing and composed a schedule, when he got to Yeonjun's band, there was a long list of dates and clubs. More extensive than anyone else he had run into so far. It seemed they had a lot of gigs. High demand, maybe?

Curious, Soobin pulled out his phone and opened Spotify. Searching the name brought him to a page with an abstract header. Black and white, the members standing in what looked like the behind scenes of a photoshoot, all the lights and cords visible. But they looked straight at the camera, shadows bringing out different depths of light and dark.

Yeonjun stood out immediately, just off-center, standing on a white block above the others but towards the back of the studio. He had his chin lifted in a sort of cool defiance, every angle sharp, every shadow deep. His hair was even longer than now, black and layered like raven feathers. He had one hand tucked in the front pocket of his grey dress pants, other resting by his side. He wore a matching suit jacket, but underneath was a black lace shirt, thin and twining up around his throat. Chains dangled from his ears. A silver ring pierced his bottom lip, studs beside his brows. But what compelled Soobin to stare was his gaze.

He looked like a celebrity.

It was a professional photo. The other members looked equally cool and intimidating, in similar subversive menswear. And undoubtedly, the platinum blond in a long pale suit jacket with a satin black scarf could only be his Kai, but he wore smoky makeup and platform shoes, nearly up to Yeonjun's height on the block.

That meant that the other two guys had to be the names Soobin didn't recognize: Choi Beomgyu and Kang Taehyun.

Soobin didn't spend long looking at them -not the type to judge strangers based off appearance- and instead checked the number on the corner.

268k monthly listeners.

That was a significant number. Not the sort of unknown underground reputation he was expecting. He would have been impressed by a quarter of that. Obviously, they weren't the biggest band in the world, but a lot of people listened to their music. They weren't invisible on the scene. Now, their amount of gigs was starting to make sense, but Soobin didn't quite understand why they were playing such small venues if there was a reasonable demand for them. Maybe most of their fanbase was international.

He pulled out a pad of paper, writing Yeonjun's band's name at the top and his question on the first line. He could reorder them later, before the actual interview.

Still, as much as he wanted to confront Kai as soon as possible, this couldn't be the first show he went to. He needed to get somewhat familiar with the scene, and get back into the groove of journalism. He hadn't been the writer on-site since his internship.

And so, he spent the first half of his day organizing the artists in his hand by genre, then pinpointing dates they were all set to play. He wrote down five options for each of them. Then, took one report off the top of each pile so he had a lineup of different genres. He picked separate but close-together days they would all be playing. After that, he simply repeated the process until his stacks were completely intermixed and he had nothing of the same caliber back to back. Just like that, he had a full calendar.

The hard part would be finding time to actually write. Even with a generous three-month deadline, already twenty-eight of his ninety days were reserved for attending the shows themselves. Several of them bled into the late hours of night, arguably the next morning.

Even then, it wouldn't be such an issue if any of the writing could be done preemptively. But because he couldn't write without having the experience first, or the information from his interviews, it would be an insane blur.

He had essentially just signed himself up for months of no sleep, excessive amounts of coffee, and high-performing anxiety.

Which he supposed was the life of a journalist.

In a way, he felt sort of excited. Horrified at what he'd agreed to put himself through, but excited all the same. He would finally be the lead writer on a massive project.

This was his big break. Shame it meant collaborating with Choi Yeonjun at some point, but there were worse hurdles to cross in order to land his dream role. He knew how to talk to Yeonjun just fine. And frankly, he would pity any other journalist who went in his stead. Yeonjun could eat them all alive. Then again, he might be nicer to them only for the fact that they weren't Soobin.

Still, he shouldn't let himself get hung up on the Yeonjun of it all. He would be meeting dozens of talented artists. It was an amazing opportunity to get his name out there into the local scene, and build connections that he could use to network later. And so it didn't feel so much like a chore as he set to work preparing for the next three months of his life. He even sent an email to his boss, asking what should be done about the feature-length he had been assigned to copy-edit and received the immensely satisfying reply telling him to pass it off to one of the interns.

Maybe this was what moving up the corporate ladder was all about.

...

Turns out, he sort of had a knack for investigative work still, and hadn't lost his spark. While he had gotten a taste for it during his internship, he had never gotten the opportunity to dive back in after taking a position with the same company.

But his first actual outing went off without a hitch, and he even sort of enjoyed himself. The band he decided to see first played at a nice pub in the arts district around eight in the evening. The place had a warm vibe, white exterior glowing amber from the lights inside, and plants twined up and down the walls and windows. The bartender was friendly, and chatted with him here and there between songs, making him mocktails and asking about his work in the press. The band themselves had a chill atmosphere, playing some alternative indie stuff that created a pleasant ambiance and generally put the drinking crowd at ease. Nothing controversial or groundbreaking, but nice nonetheless. As good of an entry point as any.

As he had suspected, only the frontman seemed keen on interviewing, and that was fine with him. They sat down for drinks once their set ended around ten, and he was more than happy to answer Soobin's questions and talk about his music. The interview went on for longer than he expected- Soobin could carry the conversation and the artist enjoyed talking about his work. He would come to find it was more typical than he originally thought. As fast as their lives moved, musicians didn't seem to mind hitting the pause button to indulge in the intricacies of their art.

He hit three artists in the next two weeks. The indie band, a busker who combined pop with violin, and a late-night singer-songwriter. The busker was interesting in that Soobin had to watch from the street and contend with the loud crowd and chaos of performing on a Gangnam sidewalk. In that alone, he had plenty of things to discuss with the artist once she finished. And while Soobin personally enjoyed the singer-songwriter's music the most out of everyone he had seen so far, the interview itself was brutal. It was well past one in the morning before she wrapped up, and though she wasn't in a hurry to leave, talking to Soobin wasn't the top of her priority list. He didn't really blame her, sleep-deprived as he must have seemed.

At this rate, though, he knew he would need to start working faster. The writing took longer than he expected. He asked lots of questions, and liked to add detail and atmosphere to his pieces, candid features though they were. He wanted to set the scene, paint the picture of the venue and how he felt sitting there, absorbed in the music in that place and time.

And so, he worked all hours, more late nights than he had done since his internship, writing until one the glow of his computer screen illuminated the office, the sun having gone down on him more times than he could count.

Although having the option to write from home was nice, he knew he worked better in the office without distractions. His mother would always come upstairs to check on him, and while he appreciated her thoughtfulness, she broke his rhythm, pulling him out of the moment in time he was trying to capture.

He wanted his readers to be able to hear the music through his writing.

And so, he wrote at the office whenever he had the energy to leave his family's apartment, and earned praise from his boss in the meantime for working so hard.

His first article on the indie band went up a week after he began the project, garnering surprising success within just the first couple of days. The band themselves reposted it on all of their social media pages, and even thanked him in their comments. Soobin got tagged in a few posts praising his writing, which he never thought would happen in a million years, and overall, it was a great start to his marathon.

Someone discussed his article about the busker in a Youtube video, and he got a lot of readers from that avenue, long-term fans of her work from overseas thanking him for featuring her.

The singer-songwriter sent him a signed copy of her latest CD.

Over three weeks, the music and culture tab on their website had more traction than they'd seen in the past few months.

Unfortunately, despite the strong, positive experience he started with, he knew everything was about to go downhill. The time had come to feature a more rock-influenced artist. He had initially ventured into the spheres he felt comfortable with, but that couldn't last forever. He knew he needed to change it up.

But would interviewing Yeonjun's band first be giving in to the voice he had so adamantly tried to pray away?

Soobin felt torn- on one hand, it would be really nice to get that particular nasty chore out of the way so he didn't have it looming over his head the entirety of the project. On the other hand, doing just that would demand he confront his fears and willingly put himself in a situation he had absolutely no desire to be in. He didn't want to be around Yeonjun more than necessary. Point-blank. Ever. And more importantly, he definitely didn't want to be around Yeonjun in his so-called element.

He tried to prepare himself- he watched Youtube videos of other supposedly similar artists, attempting to adjust to the noise, the intensity, the screaming, and the sea of hyper-energetic bodies. He wouldn't watch videos of Aurora Violet. It wasn't that he wanted to spoil the experience. But he didn't want to go in with expectations, knowing full-well he already had formed a slew of personal biases.

Soobin didn't have anyone to ask for tips. None of the people he knew would know how to act in such a situation. When he brought up rock music to his mom, she wrinkled her nose and told him she didn't listen to anything that would take the Lord's name in vain or used bad words, and he should do the same. The internet advised him to bring earplugs, noting that people with sensitive hearing should probably steer clear of hardcore and metal music altogether, both direct influences of the band.

But if he brought earplugs, would he be able to hear the music? Wouldn't that defeat the entire purpose?

He felt like banging his head against a wall, trying to overcome the mental hurdle of just booking a ticket to one of Yeonjun's shows.

He knew he just had to suck it up and take the plunge. This wasn't an optional activity. He wasn't attending of his own free will. And so if he just approached this under the umbrella of forced labor -his job had assigned him to go this show- maybe he could do it.

Soobin sat in his office staring blankly at his computer screen, open on the page of the theater Aurora Violet were playing that night. It was a three-tiered club, and they were down in the basement. Full bar access. The show started at eleven. Entry was limited, but they still had a handful of tickets left.

With a sigh, Soobin clicked the add to cart button and resignedly typed in the details of the company card his supervisor had given him.

Soobin almost wished he drank if only he could find a way to brace himself for the rest of his evening. Instead, he left work on time for once and took a three-hour nap before eating dinner and having a cup of calming tea.

In the spirit of the event he put on black pants and a grey shirt. It was still a long-sleeve button up, but he needed to look somewhat professional. He was, after all, working.

The venue was about a half-hour bus ride from his place, so he left quietly at ten, not wanting to disturb his mom who was surely already in bed. It dawned on him while he sat in the front of the bus, white-knuckled on the bench, that he probably should have told someone else where he was going. But at the same time, he didn't want to worry any of his family members, and his only friend was Huening Kai.

If worse came to worst, his work would be able to trace his expenses and figure out where he went.

It wasn't that he was expecting something bad to happen, but he also knew that these shows were high-energy, high-tension, and full of people who weren't afraid to scream about the Devil.

He didn't exactly fit in.

When Soobin got off the bus at the end of one of the seedier blocks in Itaewon, he could hear the music from down the street. Or rather, he could feel it, a constant thrumming bass battling for dominance with his own heartbeat. It was a real instrument, too, not synthesized, and he let it guide him past industrial brutalist buildings until coming to a nondescript concrete exterior. Neon purple poured out the entryway and now Soobin could hear the guitars and drums riffing alongside the bass stifling the chatter of voices that maintained their current nonetheless.

When the stairs everyone crowded around led down instead of up, Soobin experienced his first flash of genuine discomfort. His body knew he wasn't supposed to be here. People streamed down the steps, loud and strangely dressed. Black on black on everything with vibrant flashes of purple, red, and green. Some wore spikes, some collars. Fishnet and slashed fabric masqueraded as clothes. Even the understated had band t-shirts and interesting hair. Heavy boots made him fear for his toes in the darkness.

He looked immediately and obviously out of place.

A bouncer in a white t-shirt and black jeans was checking IDs -this venue was apparently only 19+- and looked skeptically at Soobin's until he flashed his press badge for him to see. That seemed to answer his unspoken questions and he nodded, waving him in.

It was bigger on the inside than he expected. The ceiling was low, but the floor wide. The walls and floor were black, giving the room an infinite yet claustrophobic feel. Right at the back where he entered, a bar lined the wall, framed with lights that changed alongside the neon overheads. A few stools were brought up alongside it, but for the most part, people clustered ordering drinks, and were unconsciously pushing each other out of the way. A couple meters away, seats and tables filled the floorspace, but they weren't given much grace, shoved in tight quarters and barely breathable. Most everyone congregated past the low wall separating the space in the standing room, drawn to the stage like acolytes of a formless idol even though no one stood upon yet. It was what it represented, and the potential of what it could become that created a polar magnetism between the two. The music he had heard out on the street came from speakers, blasting songs the crowd would likely be familiar with.

Soobin realized that if he wanted a good view to take photos, he'd need to fight for it.

He didn't really like using his position as a member of the press to get what he wanted. It felt underhanded. All of these people had just as much of a right to a good spot as he did.

They wouldn't move just because he said he was a journalist.

But...people had a tendency to move out of his way on instinct not because of his job, but rather, his size. And while he usually wouldn't use that to his advantage either, he felt less bad about it when he started walking and people simply moved to let him pass. He wasn't going to be the kind of tall guy who stood front and center, blocking everyone else's view. But he would, just this one time, be the kind of tall guy who stood front and off to the side.

Still probably accidentally blocking someone's view, but hopefully not everyone.

So, he subtly pushed his way forward until only about one or two rows of people separated him from the stage, and staked a claim near the left wall. The right side was stacked with speakers, but over here, he had a clear view of the stage, even with the angle.

This was the first venue he had been to that was dedicated solely to music. It wasn't a sidewalk in Gangnam, or a coffee shop, or pub. It was an actual club, with a big stage, all the equipment hookups, and plenty of space for people to lose themselves in the performance.

His throat felt dry, thinking this was all for Yeonjun tonight, and his heart began to pick up speed in anticipation, realizing that he was truly here, he was really doing this.

He was starting to wonder if he should've ordered a glass of water or something when the lights began to change color from purple to red. The stage was swathed in shadows, but Soobin could make out shapes beginning to stream from the wings and take form in the darkness.

A single guitar chord strummed through the room, the electricity of it cutting like metal, and the crowd began to cheer loudly. A few moments passed, and the same chord rang out again through the venue, this time followed by a short rhythm from the drums. Then it fell silent once more.

The bass walked up and down a few low chords, and the guitar joined back in. This time, the drummer teased a symbol, creating a tinny din of sound that hyped up the crowd and pushed his pulse past nervous into racing.

Slowly, the red light crept onto the stage, painting the musicians in their own earth-blood shadows. Too abstract to make out any details, but they were looking at each other, the guitarist and bassist communicating with their eyes, strumming one chord in unison before signaling something to the drummer.

With that, he launched into a breakneck beat and a silhouette came racing out onto the stage. Lithe, graceful, and sharp.

Choi Yeonjun, recognizable even through the haze.

He snapped a photo before his mind became paralyzed.

The red light cast him in his true colors: Devil-touched and beautiful. Sin in vibrant red rock candy, sparkling with temptation from the rhinestones on his leather collar to the glitter in the soles of his black platform boots. In half a black tank top and tight ripped jeans, Soobin had never seen him wear so little. It all happened so rapidly. His voice had the texture of liquid knives, twisting silver and pretty, plunging into raw emotion, spiking into mania. In a trance, he watched as Yeonjun made love to the music, to his mic, to the crowd in the filthiest way imaginable. Not savored in a private moment with God as a witness, but splayed on stage for anyone to see and take. It was prostitution of the soul, the way he performed, and Soobin wanted to hate him for it. Pouring out the very essence of his being, his most intimate reservations, his hatred and desire in perfect poetry, to be lapped up by his desperate worshippers.

Rage.

Yeonjun’s music was filled with it. Bitter vitriol against a world of disbelievers- there was such a harsh line. Those with him, and those who looked down on him in opposition. Despite that, there was an undercurrent of intense blinding optimism buried under layers of wrath and lust. All of it rooted in greed, but those in the crowd watched with shining eyes and sang with palpable conviction.

He and his band mates were electric, enough to have the small stage sizzling with chemistry. Liquid nitrogen smoke poured out under their feet, glowing red like cracked earth on the day of reckoning.

Their music was loud and unapologetic, and there wasn’t a moment where any of them -Yeonjun, the guitarist, the bassist, even Kai- weren’t overcome with emotion and ecstatic about it. They felt every thrum of the bass drum, every chord bled from the guitarists’ fingers, and of course every fearless fiery delivery from Yeonjun.

It was rock music, clearly, but not in a way that Soobin had ever thought about it. Rock was relegated to the sidelines of society, at least in his eyes. Gritty and blasphemous. Noise music for those without direction and ambition. Just looking for something to fill the void of religion.

But this was something else. He didn’t like the anticipation it stirred in his chest, how it heightened his awareness and emotion without consent, drawing him in and abandoning him in a scarlet sea of sound at the center of which Choi Yeonjun shined.

Running his hands through his black mullet, he sprinted through shows of mania, ecstasy, rage, and desire, transitioning seamlessly, his energy level never dipping. He threw his hands in the air, reveled in the music, and dropped to his knees. Sweat dripped off his forehead glistening like rubies. His eyes were wild and beautiful, enticing everyone who looked to join in his fervent revelry.

“God,” Soobin whispered to himself, before being struck by the realization that he had just taken the Lord’s name in vain.

The sight of Choi Yeonjun had driven him to do so. And if he had already been so strongly affected before even beginning the interview, he was in for an extremely tortuous night.

They took short breaks, laughing with each other and interacting with the audience. Soobin pressed himself against the wall in the shadow of a speaker, praying not to be seen and wincing every time Yeonjun's gaze turned his way, even though rationally he knew he couldn't be singled out in the darkness of the crowd.

But what struck him the most during these short breathers was how at-ease Yeonjun seemed, walking back and forth across the stage, crouching down to talk to people in the front for just a second, smiling so prettily and joking with his bandmates.

Soobin hadn't seen him that genuinely happy in five years, at least.

Towards what he prayed was the end of their set, the band strummed a few dark chords and muttered to each other as the stage lights faded to black and white. Silence settled over the venue for the heaviest ten seconds of his life.

And then out of nowhere, they exploded back into sound, twisted and intense, driven by anger. The stage blazed red again, and Yeonjun reappeared in a halo of bloody light. He crouched near the floor, bathed in liquid nitrogen. Shakily, Soobin snapped another picture. And when he sang his first line, it took Soobin a moment to register the words.

Filled with vitriol, with bitterness and confusion, he sang about his relationship with God.

No trace of love or faith. Just the words of a lost soul wandering aimlessly, believing his society was incapable of compassion. Tainted by abuse, left abandoned, walking an anxious tightrope of existence every day. Saying the man up above had bled him dry.

Words coming from the mouth of a man who had been front row in church every single Sunday since the day he was born.

Soobin was more shocked than angry. It didn’t make any sense. Was Yeonjun’s faith so wavering? Or was this an act he put on to fit in for this scene?

He sort of drifted through the last few songs. They finished, Yeonjun and his band mates made a few jokes, said goodnight, and then performed an encore. Rather than do their own music, the band covered a few popular songs, putting gritty spins on them much to the excitement of the crowd. And then they cleared out for real, waving to their fans, laughing with each other, and disappearing into the wings.

Soobin knew now was the time he actually needed to get to work. But his body refused to move, paralyzed by what he'd borne witness to.

So reluctantly, he stalled for a few minutes by listening in on the club’s crowd raving about their performance, jotting down a few reviews from ecstatic fans to use in his article.

And when he truly couldn’t justify stalling anymore, he walked up to the security guard watching over the stage door. The man sized him up as soon as he saw him approaching, but probably determined pretty quickly that, despite Soobin’s height, he wasn’t likely to be a threat, because his posture remained relaxed.

“Hey,” Soobin started introducing himself, lifting his badge from its place around his neck. “I’m Choi Soobin, I’m from Blue Sky Daily. We called a few days ago- I have an interview set up with Choi Yeonjun.”

The security guard nodded, and stepped aside. “Oh yeah, their team mentioned something about that. I think Yeonjun’s in the dressing room. I don’t know if you’re looking for the whole band- you might have to round them up.”

Soobin shook his head. He only needed Yeonjun. As nice as it would've been to have the other band members as buffer, he doubted they'd give him the time. “I think we’re just booked for the one interview.”

“Cool, go straight through and take a left. Should be the third door. If he’s not there, I’d ask around.”

Clearly they weren't very organized.

“Will do, thanks.” With that, Soobin let himself through the door.

The back wings of the club were dark. Walls covered with chipped black paint, scuffed concrete floors. There were overhead lights, but they were muted and dim. Posters were tacked up everywhere, presumably advertising past acts. All of them were signed in thick black marker by the musicians themselves.

Voices echoed down the halls, mostly laughter from a group of guys hovering down the hallway on the left. Soobin recognized them as the other members of the band, minus Yeonjun.

His footsteps drew attention, and the guys looked his way.

And then Soobin halted, hit with the sight of one person in particular.

“Kai?” he finally managed to say even as Huening Kai’s eyes lit up and he waved.

“Yo!” he called out cheerfully. “Dude, what are you doing here?”

He knew Kai was part of the band, recognized him on stage, knew they would have to reckon with this reframe of each other's existences, but hadn't expected to actually run into him. Face-to-face, toe-to-toe and all that. Now that they stood there facing each other, it felt like two worlds colliding.

“Working. I, uh, was sent to interview Yeonjun for an exclusive on local musical acts. It's a big project I got assigned to.”

It was mortifying to admit, but he had been too wrapped up in watching Yeonjun to truly register anyone else on stage. He didn't even look in Kai's direction once Yeonjun had taken center.

He just cemented himself a place in the Worst Friend competition.

Kai cackled at hearing the news, and remarked, “Oh, Yeonjun-hyung’s gonna love that. He knew he had an interview with some journalist, but didn't know it was you. Classic.”

Yeonjun-hyung.

So while Soobin ranted to Kai about the complexities of their falling out, and how Yeonjun treated him so horribly now, practically erasing his existence from his world, Kai had been nodding the whole time knowing full well that he had probably been with Yeonjun so many nights previously.

Maybe he even knew Yeonjun better than Soobin did at this point. Maybe...Kai considered Yeonjun to be more of a friend than Soobin.

He suddenly felt kind of stupid. But he didn't want to show that in front of Kai. He wouldn't ever intentionally hurt his feelings.

“Yeah, trust me I’m just as thrilled,” he replied darkly, instead focusing his energy into his upcoming trial. “Since when exactly were you two in a band together?”

It was now or never he supposed.

Kai shrugged. “I don’t know, two years now?” He glanced at the other two guys with him.

“Two years,” the intensely handsome one confirmed, short black hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His eyes were massive and starry- he regarded Soobin with intrigue, and Soobin got the sense he might be nosy. He was either the bassist or the guitarist, that was obvious. He just wasn’t sure which.

“Yeah, that long,” Kai confirmed. “I’m pretty sure I mentioned it.”

“You mentioned you were making music,” Soobin clarified. “You mentioned you were studying the piano. You didn’t say you were performing hard rock in basement clubs with Choi Yeonjun.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Kai replied, surprisingly sarcastic, although he still wore a mischievous half-smile so Soobin inferred he wasn’t supposed to take him too seriously. “Anyways, Yeonjun-hyung's in there freshening up. We’re gonna hit the bar.”

Realizing he didn’t know Kai half as well as he thought he did, he felt kind of confused as he waved them out. “Sure, see you later.”

The third guy, just as starkly handsome as his bandmate, gave him a weird look as he passed, brushing aside his long blond-streaked dark hair and regarding Soobin like he didn’t quite know what to make of him, before falling into line next to the guy with big eyes.

Gathering courage and sending a small, swift prayer, Soobin put that interaction out of his mind and knocked on the nondescript plaster door.

“Who is it?”

That was Yeonjun, brash and nasal, still manic from his show no doubt.

“The reporter from Blue Sky. We called about an interview a few days ago.”

He should've just given his name. It wasn't like Yeonjun couldn't recognize his voice.

Yeonjun let out a laugh loud enough to be heard through the door. “Oh, yeah, sure. Come in.”

For some reason, his tone didn’t instill confidence. Still, Soobin knew he had to turn the handle and let himself in.

The green room was small and dim, apart from the amber mirror lights illuminating Yeonjun’s face. He sat in front of the mirror, gazing at his own reflection, still glistening with sweat. A tumbler of amber liquid over ice sat gathering condensation on the vanity’s glass surface.

“Hey, Soobin-ah.”

Yeonjun hadn’t looked in his direction, but still he knew.

Soobin deliberated for only a moment before firmly shutting the door behind him. “I’m here for work,” he stated plainly. “I don’t want-“

“Did you have fun?” Yeonjun interrupted, leaning in to brush at something under his right eye.

“The music’s not really my style.”

“Yeah, but it did something to you. I saw it.”

Hating the way his pulse picked up, he nervously asked, “You were watching me?”

How could Yeonjun have found the time to single him out in the crowd while performing with such vigor? From Soobin’s point of view, Yeonjun was too busy riding a wave of emotion, commanding his crowd, and collaborating with his band mates. When would he have seen him?

“Hard not to,” Yeonjun replied with ease, although he frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the thing under his eye as his brushing turned to scratching. “You’re kind of easy to spot. Plus, your flash was on. But it’s cool. I liked performing for you.”

Immediately, Soobin went to backtrack, “Wait, that’s not-“

“Let me correct myself,” Yeonjun interrupted again, and finally, he turned to look at him. Now Soobin saw what had been irritating him so much. Just under his cat-like eye was a black mark Soobin had never seen before. “I liked watching you question yourself and what you believed in. It was deeply satisfying. You know, you didn't have to go to all this effort to see me. Making up work and everything. I told you I'd get you in if you wanted it so badly.”

“I didn't do any of that, and I'm here against my will,” he denied. And just to be petty, he added, “You have something under your eye.”

Yeonjun gave him a dirty little glare before returning his attention to the mirror. “Yes, you did,” he replied, ignoring the second half of Soobin’s statement. “But it’s cool if you’re not ready to come to terms with it. Anyway,” he picked up his glass and took a sip, condensation drops falling to the carpet. “Aren’t you supposed to be interviewing me?”

“Someone started running his mouth before I could really begin,” Soobin pointed out, and all his sass earned him was a small smirk. It was frustratingly difficult to get under Choi Yeonjun’s skin.

“Let’s not do it in here,” Yeonjun decided, and finished his drink in one long go without even a wince. “Too quiet. No offense, but you’re kind of freaky-quiet if you know what I mean.”

Soobin frowned. “No, that sounds offensive, actually. I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do,” he insisted while standing, and Soobin did his best not to perceive his heeled sequin boots or impossibly long legs. Or the tears in his tight black jeans, and the chain hanging from his hips. Or the fishnet in his shirt and the- was Yeonjun purposely trying to look like temptation incarnate? It was malicious and deliberate. It had to be. “It’s the way you talk. Like you’re afraid of being heard. You’ve always been like that.”

Instantly, Soobin knew he was going to internalize that, but tried to move on in the moment. “Why do I feel like I’m the one being interviewed?”

Yeonjun shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe a product of the way you hold all your cards so close to your chest thinking no one can read them.” Without giving Soobin a pause to process, he just tacked on, “Let’s go.” With that, he slipped something into his pocket and headed for the door, brushing past Soobin in the process.

Confused, Soobin still followed after him. Yeonjun had that effect on people. “Go where?”

“Out to the bar.”

“I don’t drink,” Soobin stated.

“I know. That doesn’t mean I don’t.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.”

“Soobin-ah, drinking is the last thing I’m going to Hell for. Don’t worry about it.”

Out of the strange fluorescents and black-chipped walls of the back rooms, the club seemed darker and more malevolent in comparison, glowing all sorts of pulsating neons. Music echoed from wall to wall, hollow in a way that put him on edge, and he couldn’t quite distinguish the line between mundane revelry and the implied influence of something more…intense.

People talked. They laughed. Everything was louder than it should be, and more confusing too, with bodies no less than shadows and shades flitting from wall to wall, assured in their staggering steps.

Still, Yeonjun waded through it all as though enshrouded in rapturous light, parting the seas of partygoers. Some stopped to perceive him as the star of the show, flocking for autographs and fawning, but to Soobin’s shock, rather than engage the crowd, Yeonjun wrapped his arm around Soobin’s and pulled him close, using his larger body as a shield to push their way forward.

Instead of putting up a fight, he went along with it, only because this would be the fastest way to finish his job, and did his best to protect Yeonjun from his crowd of admirers.

It was all so surreal. He couldn’t remember the last time the two of them had worked together to achieve anything.

A few minutes later, they were tucked into a small corner booth, the kind with leather that stuck to the skin. The night leaving a lasting impression. Yeonjun had another glass of whiskey in hand and regarded Soobin with a wistful expression, remarking, “This reminds me of our youth sermons.”

Soobin could only cup his cold glass of lemonade and blink in confusion. “What?”

Even so, he braced himself for something blasphemous.

“The last time you and I sat next to each other. During youth service. Don’t you remember?”

Well, “Yes,” he admitted. He did remember. They attended their youth pastor’s sermons every Sunday after regular service through most of their teenage years.

“My mom made me sit next to you,” Yeonjun recalled, taking a smooth sip of his whiskey. “She’s always liked you.”

“Everyone in our congregation likes you,” Soobin muttered.

Immediately, he knew it sounded selfish, and made a promise to confess his sin at the next chance he was given.

Yeonjun arched his eyebrows. “No need to sound so bitter. Do you have a problem with people liking me?”

“No,” Soobin said softly, trying to correct his tone. “I have a problem with you lying, and deceiving everyone into believing you’re something you’re not.” And as he saw Yeonjun take a breath, clearly riled up, he rushed to add, “I’m not one to judge your choices. Only God has the authority to do that. But you’re not living authentically in front of those who care about you. They don't even know what you do. I suppose…that’s what bothers me.”

“First of all,” Yeonjun began, having had a few moments to listen and stew in his growing anger. “You’re right when you say you’re in no damn place to criticize me. We’re not friends, despite my attempts at it. I get that you’re just naturally inclined to dislike me these days.”

“I don’t-“ Soobin tried, but Yeonjun held up his hand, so dismissive and persuasive that he found himself falling silent.

“Second of all: What is your authentic truth, Soobin? Do you feel like you’re living it? Fully and honestly in front of all of your loved ones? All the time?”

Flustered, Soobin didn’t want to consider the implications of his question.

“It’s more complicated than that, isn’t it?” Yeonjun pressed, but he did it so delicately. And then, he crossed his legs and fixed his bangs, allowing Soobin a moment to recover from the weight of such a statement before saying, “I hope none of this is making it into your article.”

“No,” he responded quietly. “It’s not.”

"Great. Let's start over then."

Always so brash and to the point. But it scared Soobin less than when he spoke softly, because when Yeonjun lowered his voice, the words that followed always reshaped Soobin's view of the world. Despite his blasé attitude, he had a knack for weaving poetry and existentialism into one neat dreadful package. He supposed that was what made him a good lyricist.

Well, that was as good of a starting point as any.

Soobin almost started to ask his questions, but had to pause and instead ask, "Are you going to take this seriously?"

Yeonjun shrugged. "Ask serious questions, and I'll give you serious answers. Unless they're stupid. Then I'll deliver something of equal value."

"Fair enough," he muttered, and quickly scanned his list to make sure he hadn't written anything stupid. "Your lyrics seemed to really resonate with people. What does your writing process look like and where do you draw inspiration from?"

"Shouldn't you first ask if I'm the lyricist?"

Soobin wanted to retort something smart but he was technically right. "Yes, I'm sorry. I don't know why I assumed."

Yeonjun looked pleased with his humble reply. "You're in luck. I do most of the writing. Taehyun probably does the second-most after me. Beomgyu and Kai contribute when it's a song they care about, but they're more into the production and instrumental side of things."

"Okay. So back to my first question..."

"I'm not really a ritualistic person. I write when the mood strikes. I write after experiences. I write in places that tell stories. I need to feel the words in order to put them on paper. A lot of people think I just get really fucked up and pen stuff down, but I don't actually write lyrics like that. I'll make a note of ideas if something really sticks out to me, but it usually looks like nonsense the next morning. My inspiration is sometimes real, sometimes fiction. It's fun to play in worlds that aren't your own, or to combine the two. Some songs are personal. Some are proof of concept. I think both are legitimate ways of making music."

Soobin took quick notes as he spoke, and the more Yeonjun told him, the more Soobin felt like he judged him too harshly going into this. He took his question seriously, spoke eloquently, and even offered varying perspectives. He was just as good of an orator apparently.

"Can you give an example of a personal versus conceptual song in your discography?"

"Sure. 'Nightmares' is personal. It's about battling insomnia, and how combatting exhaustion with substances just to keep yourself from feeling anything doesn't really solve any problems, but makes me feel good in the short-term. 'Pearl Necklace' is conceptual. I just wanted to make something that had the charm of a silver-screen era theatrical production paralleled with the sort of underlying dark irony we're known for. Mostly, I just wanted an excuse to take pictures in twentieth century fashion. It's fun."

"What exactly lead to you becoming interested in music?" Soobin asked as he nodded and scribbled down what Yeonjun just told him.

“I didn't catch that. Could you speak a little closer to me?” Yeonjun enticed, and when he leaned in, Soobin caught the scent of sweat and sweet perfume that clung to his skin. “It’s the only way to hear you above the noise.”

Strange as it seemed, something in his question must have been true because his words were now in breathless proximity but they rode along the top of the club’s cacophony rather than getting lost in the din.

Soobin’s hands were shaking, despite his best attempts to disassociate from everything happening around him. He tried to hide it by gripping tightly onto his notebook, once again consulting the list of questions he had written down on the ride over.

“How did you get into music?” he asked again, attention fixed on the pages in his hand.

“Serendipitously,” Yeonjun replied, and he crossed his long legs -long enough to take up Soobin’s entire periphery- reclining leisurely back in the leather booth now that he'd done a number on him.

“Tell me more,” he probed, needing at least a full sentence before he felt satisfied enough to move on. Each one of these articles were feature-length. He wouldn't hit his word goal with clipped replies like that.

“Well, one might say it was spiritual. Both savior and purpose, y’know?” Yeonjun’s mouth formed a wry little twist while he spoke as he sat there equating religion to blasphemy. “I really feel like I found myself through music. It gave me an outlet when no one else would listen. Have you ever felt like that?”

Startled, Soobin’s immediate reaction was, “Like what?” rather than the stark no he should have said.

“Like you’re completely alone, left out of something everyone else shares.”

It wasn’t a question meant for him to answer. Yet there was an answer that rose in his chest. Adamantly, defensively, he wanted once again to deny.

But there were times he felt the same. When looking at couples, when watching romantic films, when reading about love and all its glory.

Yeonjun watched his eyes, searching for something, then smiled to himself. “Mm, that’s what music did for me. It gave me that something. Not the same one, but one just for me. Of course, on stage I share that something with my band mates and my fans, but a part of it -the sacred aspect- that’s my own.”

Soobin nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line, and once again returned to the safety of his notebook. He didn’t like listening to Yeonjun talk. Not when he was in his element, riding high on his current and loose with inebriation. “But how would you say you started doing music?”

He shrugged. “I fell.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I tripped and I was in it. And then I needed it. And before I knew it, it was a part of me.”

Dropping his decorum, Soobin found himself accusing, “Could you at least try to sound like what you’re doing doesn't go against everything you've pretended to stand for all your life?”

Rather than become defensive, Yeonjun just raised his eyebrows and laughed. “You’re so delicate, Soobin. And naive. I’m just describing my experience. Your mom isn’t going to read this, relax.”

“She reads everything I write,” Soobin snapped. “I can’t relax. And I’m not writing that down.”

“Are you sure you’re not just reading too much into everything I say?” Yeonjun remarked. “I’m not too confident about the validity of this ‘unbiased’ journalism.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you already despise me, and you think I’m going to Hell. So I don’t feel all that comfortable with you writing an interview about me and my work that’s going to be public access.”

"I don't despise you. And even if I did, I wouldn't let my personal feelings get in the way of quality work," Soobin muttered. "Let's try again. I need some biographical information."

Yeonjun held his whiskey tumbler in one hand, rubbing circles through the condensation. "Don't you already know all that?"

"Indulge me."

"Okay. Shoot."

Soobin began listing off things he knew, rather than asking questions, just seeking confirmation. "You were born in Seoul. No siblings. Went to art school-"

"Dropped out of art school," Yeonjun corrected.

Confused, Soobin said, "No, you didn't. We graduated together."

"Oh. You mean high school. Then yes, you're right."

"You went to university?"

Yeonjun shrugged, then took a drink. "For a couple of years."

Soobin didn't know that about him. Yeonjun had sort of dropped off his social radar once they passed their exams and finished high school. "What school?"

"Hongik."

He couldn't help it. He knew he looked surprised.

Yeonjun caught his unfiltered expression and narrowed his eyes. "You didn't think I could get into a decent university."

"I just didn't know your exam scores mattered that much to you," Soobin hastily tried to correct himself. He couldn't afford for this to go downhill now.

"I scored fine on my exams, but that wasn't really the important part. I had a good portfolio."

That didn't surprise him so much. Yeonjun's specialty had been art, and he did dance as well starting in middle school. He probably had an extensive portfolio of sketches and recorded performances all tailored to satisfy the admissions panels of the schools he wanted to attend.

"Why did you drop out?"

Yeonjun looked cautious despite the whiskey, keeping his legs crossed and his guard up. "That's not really your business."

Fair enough. Soobin just raised his eyebrows but looked back down at his notepad, wracking his brain for any other relevant information about Yeonjun's life. "Anyone particularly influential?"

That had him loosen up a bit as a bitter smile touched his lips. "My mom. She's been there for me through everything. And I don't share every aspect of my life with her, not because I think it would hurt her, but because I don't want to cause her any stress. She knows the important stuff and that's always been enough."

Soobin could have guessed Yeonjun's answer. He remembered when Yeonjun's dad left in middle school. Had a screaming match with his mom out on their front lawn, and then just up and vanished. Everyone in their congregation whispered about it for weeks. Yeonjun picked up the pieces as best as he could for her; Soobin always had the feeling that he took care of her, and not so much the other way around. Still, he clearly loved her more than anything.

"Have you written any songs for her?"

"Lots. Nothing that's actually been committed to production, though. I don't think I will until I feel like I can play it for her at a show. Until I can show her that her son is successful."

When Yeonjun actually had the inclination to be serious, he was quite sentimental. Soobin jotted that down as a character note to remember for himself, knowing full well his preconceived notions of Yeonjun would fight to creep into his writing.

"Any other pressing questions?"

"What would you say you guys are known for? What sets your band apart?"

"Are you looking for something deeper than sex appeal?"

"If you could muster that, yes."

Yeonjun shrugged. "I think those are two different questions. We're known for blending surreal and sensation. I think that's why there's such an artistic element to our presentation. Everything from the fashion to the pacing is deliberate. The shows are supposed to feel like a trip, good and bad, if that makes sense. I don't think I can answer the second question without sounding like I'm putting down other groups on the scene. I don't want to do that. Everyone has their thing, and I just think it's sick that we've all curated this environment where we can celebrate those things together." Then, Yeonjun leaned forward, trying to read the notes he'd jotted down. "You should include that thing about the sex appeal, though. It's funny."

Soobin flipped his notebook towards himself. "I'll keep it in mind," he replied vaguely, knowing full well he wouldn't be doing that. "Unfortunately, I think all of the other questions I had prepared are probably better suited for the other members." He had written down a few in the hopes they might want to be interviewed alongside Yeonjun after all. Sadly, things didn't work out that way.

"You could always come see us again," Yeonjun suggested, then sipped from his drink. "I'm sure Beomgyu would sit down with you."

"Not the other guys?"

"Taehyun probably would if you asked, but he'd never volunteer, and Kai forgets how to command the Korean language every time you put him in front of an interviewer. Besides, Beomgyu contributes the most to the actual musical production process."

"Huening Kai and I are friends."

"Okay. Then interview him in your own time."

Yeonjun's nonchalance did at least work to ease Soobin's fear that the two of them had been talking about him behind his back for years.

"I don't think he'll want to talk about it," Soobin admitted, flashing back to their earlier conversation.

"So, that brings us back to Beomgyu," Yeonjun summed up. "What do you have against him?"

Soobin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't know. He just seemed...cold."

Yeonjun gave a little laugh. "Oh, he'll love that. He's been working on his aura, you know. But um...no, I promise he's the easiest to talk to. You guys are kind of similar."

"Is he around now?"

He really didn't want to have to come back and bask any longer in Yeonjun's presence.

"Afraid he's off the clock," Yeonjun answered pleasantly. "You'll have to catch him next time."

"There's not going to be a next time."

"Are you just trying to play hard to get?"

"No." Soobin frowned. "I have limited time and limited resources. I'm not going to spend them on another trip to see you guys when I have a dozen other acts to get to."

Yeonjun pouted, resting his chin on the back of his hand. He tilted his head in such a way where it had him looking up at Soobin through his dark lashes, lips wet with whiskey and whispering dangerous words.

"Won't you reconsider, for me? I think your work would suffer from not interviewing Beomgyu. He has a completely different perspective. I can offer you a lot, but not the same things. Of course, if there's anything else you need from me, all you have to do is ask." He batted his lashes. "I'm very agreeable."

Like a siren, inviting him to explore a world they both knew lingered well beyond his limits.

Soobin tore his gaze away and stared down at the table instead, muttering, "Stop. Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

Putting words to his feelings would be unthinkable. Not only would it give Yeonjun ammunition, but it would be admitting that he affected him at all.

"Trying to change my mind," he said instead. "What's in it for you?"

"A better review for my band," Yeonjun answered honestly. "This is how I make a living. Your site is reputable. Your social media has millions of followers. I want us on the front page, and I want it to be big."

"That's more than I can offer," Soobin shut him down immediately. "I'm here to do a short feature. You'll have to kiss up to the music critics to get what you want."

"Mm, but it's easier to kiss up to you, my dearest oldest friend, and you can write a glowing review so good it makes the critics' writeup obsolete. I know our music is great. I'm not concerned about that. What we're trying to sell now is our brand and reputation. The more famous we act, the more famous we'll become. That's how showbiz works." Yeonjun straightened up with a sigh, throwing back the rest of his drink. "I can't start flailing opportunities now. I'm a star."

"I know that," Soobin replied, not an ounce of doubt in his heart. Personal feelings aside, Yeonjun had the makings of lasting sensation.

"I need you to make the world know it." When Soobin still hesitated, Yeonjun murmured, "If you do this for me, I'll owe you. I'll clear my name with God, our congregation, my own mom if you want, you'll just have to say the word. I'm not going to offer you money or anything- I know you're not that kind of guy. But the personal stuff, the things I know you care about, I'll fix that. I can help you. Whatever you want."

Whatever you want. His resolve wavered.

Leveling with him, Soobin said, "You're really desperate about this, aren't you?"

"Yes," Yeonjun answered plainly. "Please?"

He hated the way his heart skipped a beat. He couldn't remember the last time Yeonjun said that word to him and meant it.

All of that negotiating became pointless with that one single word. As soon as that came out of his mouth, Soobin was his.

"I can interview Beomgyu," he agreed, trying to sound reluctant even if his heart wasn't really in it.

Yeonjun brightened, but his expression wasn't joy. It was a suave sort of glee, pleased he'd gotten what he wanted but not about to let his aura get away from him. He leaned close, and Soobin closed his eyes on instinct, only to feel his lips and warm breath against the shell of his ear. “We’re playing a different club next week. The Pearl. Tell me you want to see me, and I’ll get you in free so you can do that interview.”

Disoriented, Soobin shook his head. “I- I don’t know if that’s-"

It was so soon.

Yeonjun brushed his thumb so faintly, so seductively against Soobin’s cheek, and murmured again, “Tell me you want to see me.”

His touch ignited a trail of fire along his skin.

It was as though the truth was lifted from him on a divine breath of air, and he whispered, “I want to see you.”

Yeonjun’s thumb slipped to Soobin’s bottom lip, and he tilted his head ever so slightly, eyes dark and focused not on Soobin’s own, but where their skin met. “Tell me how badly you want it.”

Consumed in the blaze, it flared pleasure through every vein and he couldn’t help but confess, “I need to see you.”

As though sated, Yeonjun’s pupils were dilated and he closed his eyes in pleasure, hand falling from Soobin’s cheek and leaving what felt like scorch marks behind in his wake. “Good,” he breathed.

When he withdrew, cold rushed in to fill the void between them and Soobin almost reached out to rekindle that brief breath of warm air. And then he shut his eyes and drew in a real breath, air pure from Yeonjun's perfume and poison filling his lungs, and exhaled the toxins from his system.

It felt like what he imagined hypnotism to be. The dregs slowly left his body, seeping out his influence over him, until Soobin once again felt in control of his senses.

"How do you do that?" He didn't mean to ask, but the words lifted from his lips, and Yeonjun tilted his head.

"Do what?"

"Get exactly what you want. It's always been like that."

Yeonjun furrowed his brow, as if the thought never occurred to him until Soobin gave him the words. "I ask."

"No, you don't. You tell. You tell people what you want them to do, and don't give them a choice."

"Soobin-ah, you always have a choice. It's not my problem if you want the same thing I do." Then, Yeonjun drew Soobin's glass towards him, taking a sip of his lemonade before remarking, "Personally, I want you to leave now."

Soobin stood as soon as he said it, drawing his tan coat closer around his shoulders. He wanted to leave just as badly.

"See?" Yeonjun pointed out. "I get what I want because you want it, too."

"Whatever," Soobin muttered in response, gathering his notebook and slipping it into his bag.

With a charming smile, Yeonjun purred, "I'll look forward to next week, darling."

"I won't." He swung his bag over his shoulder, checking to make sure he had his camera, before his mother's voice in his head chided him to mind his manners. "Thanks for the interview."

"And for the invite," Yeonjun reminded him.

"I could've gotten in on my own."

"On such short notice? Not likely. Your big boy press badge only grants you so much privilege. Just say thank you."

"Choi Yeonjun, I swear-"

With a little coy gasp, Yeonjun pressed his hand to his chest. "Soobin-ah, since when have you sworn?"

Composing himself, he simply said, "You're going to reap what you sow one day."

Smiling, he replied, "I'll look forward to that, too." Then, batting his lashes again, he asked, "Kiss goodbye?"

"In your dreams," he informed him before pushing away from the table and into the dense and dark crowd.

Bursting through the door felt like emerging from a warzone. He fumbled his way out onto the sidewalk and to the bus stop, wondering if he had been drugged or if Yeonjun just got under his skin that much.

He had always sort of known, in the back of his mind, that Yeonjun would never conform. He was different since the day he was born, but used to be better at hiding it. Now, he didn't seem to care about conforming at all except for in front of his own mother.

And his actions, the tone of his voice, the phantom of his touch, had Soobin's hair standing on end with the illicit possibility. He wondered if Yeonjun really made good on his promises, or if it was all a joke to him.

Kiss goodbye? he had asked with his sultry dark eyes and pretty pout and for a second Soobin wished he knew whether he was trying to lay a trap for him to humiliate himself or if maybe Yeonjun felt the same suffocating-

He cut himself off before he could spiral into something dangerous. He knew Yeonjun had been making fun of him.

Back at home, everything lay silent. The restaurant had already closed. All the lights were out, and Soobin had to unlock the building's side door to let himself in. He made sure to be quiet on the stairs, minding the third one from the top that always creaked. When he reached the landing and slipped off his shoes, he found the apartment's front door locked as well, which could only mean that both of his parents were home and likely asleep.

But to his surprise, a light remained on in the living room, and he found himself drawn towards it.

"There you are," a voice belonging to his older brother greeted him from the armchair.

"Oh, hey," Soobin replied, slipping his bag off his shoulder. "You didn't have to wait up for me."

"It's not like you to be out so late," Eunhak pointed out. "Mom and Dad were worried."

"Sorry to make you guys worry," he replied sincerely, realizing once again that he should have let them know he would be gone. "I was out on a work assignment."

"Oh, they're finally sending you out in the field?" Eunhak asked hopefully, knowing how much it would mean to him.

"Finally," he confirmed. "It's tough, though. A lot of late nights in my future, probably."

"What are you writing about?"

"Local bands."

"Cool," he commended with a grin. "Anyone neat so far?"

Soobin itched to share Yeonjun's secret for just a second before holding his tongue. It was technically Kai's secret too -from his family at least- and even though he was close with his brother, it wouldn't feel right to divulge everything.

"Nothing really my style yet, but it's still fun to go out and document the artists on the scene." Then, he checked his phone and noted the time. "It's late, I should probably go wash up. Thanks for waiting for me."

"No problem. Now that I know it's going to be a regular thing, I won't bother. You should tell Mom and Dad, though."

"I will in the morning," he promised.

Eunhak got to his feet and clapped him on the back. "Let me know when your first article is published, I want to check it out."

"Will do," he replied, though he felt a spike of anxiety at the thought of his family reading whatever he decided to write about Yeonjun's band. Not only would the news be broken to their entire neighborhood and congregation, but Soobin knew his feelings towards him, however complicated, would manage to bleed through the page.

He would just have to complete the most unbiased writeup of his life.

...

Soobin began seeing him after that night. First, when he closed his eyes to sleep. The backs of his eyelids were blood-red, and Yeonjun's silhouette painted across the void in fluid shadow. The cut of his jaw, the feathered edges of his hair, the lithe lines of his body. Every time he crossed Soobin's mind, his heart started to pound and he forced himself to think of anything else.

Then, he appeared in his daydreams. From home or at the office, Soobin would sit, typing away at his article drafts, trying to recapture a moment from a show, and the memory of Yeonjun's performance would overtake him. He would get lost in the ghost of the shattered lights and sounds and the beauty of his presence. When he eventually shook himself back to reality, he always woke to more than several minutes passed and gone.

This constant bombardment of sensation left him both confused and fearful. He had known Yeonjun for his entire life. And yet he consumed him now, a lurking threat in the darkest recesses of his mind that could be conjured and contemplated at any moment. As if when they met in the shadows of that club and swapped secrets, Soobin had let his guard down just long enough for Yeonjun to slip a leash around his neck, keeping the thought of him close and ever-present. Even though Yeonjun himself was the victim of Soobin's capture, at least in his frame of mind, Soobin felt more like a captive than the image of him ever could.

The only thing he could do was repress and counteract. Thoughts of Yeonjun's face? Prayer. Thoughts of Yeonjun's voice? Gospels, verses, letters, any kind of reading. Thoughts of Yeonjun's- he needed to be in the presence of God.

He started going to church four times a week again. As often as he could muster. He thought it might take his mind off things, or at least offer some clarity. Instead, his pulse always began to pick up speed when he pushed open the doors, wondering if that night would be the one where they crossed paths. Where Yeonjun would kneel flooded in shadow and candlelight under the watchful gaze of the Virgin Mary, and Soobin would be confronted with the merging of his two worlds not only in the light of Sunday mornings, but in the darkness of night as well.

Yeonjun didn't speak to him the Sundays following the show. He didn't even look Soobin's way. And he wasn't sure why he expected anything different- they had been like this for years. Only once breaking out of that routine, and suddenly he thought that would be their new normal. As if they had ever had anything normal.

At least Kai didn't suddenly turn on him now that Soobin knew his secret. When he came in for his shift the following Sunday, Soobin had been sitting down at the restaurant counter, helping his mom go through inventory, when the bell chimed announcing his arrival.

"Hi, good morning!" Kai greeted them brightly, and his mom waved him over. Seeing him now in the daylight, Soobin had no idea how he hadn't guessed his secret. Even though Kai had a bubbly personality, he had the right look for someone in a band like his.

"Good morning, Hyuka-yah," his mother returned his greeting just as warmly. "Soobinnie was just helping me look over our stock for the day. We should be all set, so why don't you help yourself to a coffee before your shift?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Choi!" Kai bowed at her in earnest as she headed back for the kitchen, and then he came around the counter, pouring ice and cold-brew coffee in a glass. He sipped it, then said, "We probably need to talk, huh?"

"Probably," Soobin agreed, though he felt reluctant to broach the subject.

"I'm sorry," he immediately apologized. "I didn't do a good job of explaining myself Friday night. I know you're mad, and I completely understand-"

"I'm not mad," Soobin said with wide eyes. "Please don't think that."

"You're not?"

"No. I felt a little hurt at first since you never mentioned that you and Yeonjun were friends, but it's also not something I was entitled to knowing."

Kai shook his head. "Honestly, it wasn't that I didn't want you to know. I wasn't trying to keep secrets. I just didn't want you to feel like you couldn't be comfortable talking to me. I know your guys' history is complicated, but I also don't really want to be stuck in the middle. You're my friend and he's my friend and that doesn't have to mean anything for how you and I get along. If that makes sense."

"It does." Soobin slid Kai's glass his way, taking a drink and causing him to make a little face in protest. "You...didn't tell him anything, right?"

Frowning, Kai took his coffee back. "Of course not. I think hearing it would just bum him out, honestly."

"What do you mean?"

"He's sensitive. And he likes to pretend you don't hate him."

"I don't hate him," Soobin once again felt the need to emphasize. Why did everyone think he hated Yeonjun? His feelings towards him weren't that strong. "I don't understand him. It's different."

"Okay, sure," Kai agreed. "But you definitely don't like him. And you don't have anything nice to say."

"That's...true."

"So, why would I tell him?"

"I guess you wouldn't."

"Exactly. Don't worry about it. Consider our lives totally separate."

Soobin sighed. "Except Yeonjun invited me back."

"He did?"

"He wants me to interview one of the other guys in your band. Choi...Beomgyu, I think."

"Oh." Kai looked kind of surprised, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's cool, I guess. Beomgyu-hyung's got valuable stuff to say, it's probably a good idea. Are you going, then?"

"Well, now I feel like I have to. Since Yeonjun said he was going to go to all the trouble of getting me in."

Kai nodded, lips flattened in a cute assertive expression. "It would be rude to turn down the invitation. I think your only option is to come."

"I really don't like being around him."

"You'll barely have to talk to him if you're there to interview Beomgyu-hyung. I think it'll be worth your time."

"What's this Beomgyu guy like, anyway?"

"Annoying," Kai said immediately, then laughed to himself. "I'm kidding. He's a great artist, and fun to be around. Performing just makes him super high energy. Usually, though, he's pretty quiet and chill. Very introspective. Music and art is his life. He's a creative genius."

Soobin sighed. "Sounds like it won't hurt to meet with him."

"Nope," Kai replied cheerfully.

"And the other guy?"

"Taehyunnie? He's cool. I think you'd like him, you're both really cognitive people. I mean, he's cognitive in the smart way and you're cognitive in the spiraling overthinking way, but-"

"Hey!" Soobin protested this loud and incorrect depiction of him, earning another laugh from Kai. "So, just to get my ducks in a row, Choi Beomgyu is the...?"

"Guitarist. Taehyunnie plays bass."

"Thank you. I guess I'll save the rest of my questions for the interview."

Then, even though he knew it was silly, he sighed and asked, “Is it going to be loud again?”

Kai raised his eyebrows, almost pitying him. “It’s rock music.”

“Yeah,” Soobin agreed despondently. “I thought you might say that.”

“I’m surprised you’re not into it more. Half the stuff Yeonjun-hyung writes is Christian.”

Obviously, he was joking just to get under Soobin’s skin but he still glared at him. “Absolutely nothing he sang about last time was Christian. Just because you allude to God and the Devil doesn’t mean a song is-”

“I know, I know, I’m kidding. Sorry. Touchy subject, I guess.”

“Yeonjun is Christian though,” Soobin muttered to the countertop. “I don’t know why he would be writing stuff like that. It’s not right.”

Kai shrugged. “I always thought he was trying to process some sort of religious trauma. I’ve never doubted his faith, though. He’ll leave practice to go to church during the week and he prays before shows. I’ve even seen him read the Bible. He’s better about it than half of the other practicing Catholics I know.”

“And then he gets on stage and performs for the Devil.”

Kai held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just telling you that maybe you don’t need to worry so much.”

Soobin appreciated the comfort, and nodded after a moment. “You’re probably right. He just stresses me out. I think he’s walking a very thin line and I don’t want him to face the consequences of falling off.”

“So, do you think the rest of us are going to Hell, then?” Kai posed it like a lighthearted question, but his round eyes were inquisitive, waiting to hear Soobin’s answer.

“No, I don’t think that,” he replied immediately, not just because he wanted to assuage Kai’s fears or maybe his insecurity about whether they could keep being friends with this secret between them, but because he genuinely believed it. “First of all, it’s not my place to judge where others stand in the eyes of God. Second of all, I think you’re good people and what you’re doing doesn’t come from a place of malevolence. Even if I don’t personally agree with some of the lyrical content, it’s not hurting anyone.”

“Hm.” Kai pondered it for a moment, fingers drumming against the side of his glass, before saying, “You know, it might be worth including something about that in your article, about the dilemma of faith and expression. I think it would be interesting, since some people might be able to figure out that you personally know Yeonjun-hyung and I. You could use that as an angle for biases.”

Soobin heard what he was saying and nodded, lips pursed. He grabbed Kai’s ticket notebook to write the idea down and pocketed the page.

“I think this article is going to take me a year to write at the rate that I keep adding things.”

Kai just smiled. “All the better it will look for us. Take your time.”

He supposed Kai had just as much of a vested interest in the article’s success as Yeonjun.

“Can you tell me about the place you’re playing next week?”

“Sure. The Pearl’s an old theater. We’ve opened for other bands there a few times, but this time we’ll be headlining. It’s nice, kind of has a twentieth century Western vibe. Huge bar that takes up all of the back wall once you’re inside. The place gets packed pretty quickly though, so you’ll want to show up kind of early if you don’t want to elbow people out of the way for a decent spot.”

Soobin rubbed his forehead, preparing for the headache his next trip was sure to bring. “Okay. I can do that.”

“I’m sure Yeonjun-hyung would be happy to drive you if-”

“No, no, that’s okay,” he said quickly. “I’d rather take the bus.”

“Just saying,” Kai replied with a sly little smile.

“I am actively praying for as little contact with him as possible.”

“Hope that works out for you.”

What a deft reply for an atheist.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Kai!” his mother called through a crack in the kitchen door. “People are starting to line up outside, go ahead and let them in.”

Kai immediately stood at attention. “On it!” Then, he gave Soobin an apologetic look saying, “We can talk more later if you want,” before heading over to officially open the restaurant.

As much as Soobin would love to sit there and worry about next Friday with him as a captive audience for another few hours, it wouldn’t be fair. So, he just stood and said, “All good, I’ll catch you later,” before heading upstairs to prepare as much as he could for the long work week ahead.

…

The Pearl definitely had a different vibe than the place he had seen them play before. While that club felt modern but small, this one had their name spelled out in theater lights. Security verified his press badge, then ushered him inside, and he found himself surrounded by plush carpets and mahogany walls. Vases of fake flowers, large gilded posters, and even vanity tables lined the hallway that poured into the bar. The floor was made of black marble, covered with ornate rugs, and the entire place glowed amber. The bar stools were made of red velvet, and it stood raised high above the stage, which it was separated from by a windowed half-wall. Over the threshold, the ground sloped downwards towards a pit from where the stage rose up, currently covered by heavy red drapes. Only the glowing red sconces offered any light to penetrate the darkness. Towards the back, a few velvet armchairs and booths clustered around tables, but up front was standing room only.

The entire place seemed to be an eclectic mix between a bar, lounge, and theater.

Intrigued, Soobin ordered himself a tonic water and debated where he wanted to settle while waiting for his drink.

He had come early this time, armed with Kai’s knowledge about just how competitive the crowd would get. At least his first experience, as excruciating as it had been, braced him adequately for his second.

Despite the atmosphere of the venue being completely distinct, the crowd looked roughly the same. Dressed in dark colors, some people barely dressed at all, decked out in piercings and tattoos. A lot of jewelry bearing the cross, but just as many wearing the sign of the Devil. Sometimes worn together on the most blasphemous of sinners, though this was hardly the place to start preaching in defense of his faith.

He just wondered how Yeonjun not only got mixed up in such a scene, but became a messiah to these people.

Carefully, he took his drink -apparently on the house since he was a journalist and it was cheap- and made his way through the crowd. He wanted a better spot this time. Not because he wanted Yeonjun to be able to see him, but because he could use the opportunity for some clearer shots.

The crowd took a while to trickle in, given that Soobin had come so early, but soon enough they were pressed all around him, a warm inescapable mass of bodies. He wasn't sure where he ended and the sea of flesh began. They all talked loudly over the music pouring from the speaker system, but hushed the second the sconces began to dim and the music faded out.

There was an opener tonight. The curtains parted to reveal a different band, and Soobin quickly found out they were a metal act composed of five older guys, rough around the edges, screaming words he wouldn't say in the darkest depths of his own anger. He kept waiting for them to sing, and it took a while before he realized they just...didn't. Or maybe they considered screaming a different kind of singing. Honestly, he didn't know what he was talking about and he wasn't anywhere near their target audience, so he took the opportunity to finish his drink and secure his position for when Yeonjun's band finally took the stage.

Eventually, the metal band finished their set to roars from the crowd, and the red house lights lifted while the stage went dark. People scurried back and forth, moving instruments while music blared over the speakers. Even a second of silence seemed blasphemous to the audience, so accustomed to noise and stimulation.

Until the house lights dimmed again, and even Soobin waited with bated breath alongside everyone else in the darkness. A few whispers broke through the shadows, but they were quickly snuffed out by the suffocating anticipation.

Silhouettes moved up on stage, drifting like ghosts between instruments and cables, and although Soobin rationally knew they were people just like everyone else, their dark presence and anticipation of what was to come had his hair standing on end.

And then Yeonjun took center stage like an avenging angel, swooping in to grab his mic before the stage exploded in sound, energy. and vibrant blue light. The band kicked into full gear from the very first second, a cacophony of electric strings and heavy drums, pounding against the door of his intrinsic makeup, threatening to break it down and reveal everything he didn’t want to see in himself.

Yeonjun had a manic smile on his face as he raced across the stage, energy crackling like lightning, the entire theater suddenly amped and high voltage. People screamed at the sight of him, waving their arms frantically, and Soobin stared, utterly captivated. Once again, he showed himself in a light Soobin had never seen.

He wore a zip-up denim corset top and low-rise jeans, showing off the chemistry of his own shape with his sculpted arms and narrow waist both exposed. Soobin didn't even dare to blink, worried he might miss a moment even though rationally he knew he would have at least one glorious hour to stare at Yeonjun in all his exalted beauty. Once the noise settled into a steady beat, the next part of the set opened with gritty bass, sultry but fun. Yeonjun was playful, dancing around the stage and around his bandmates, getting more amped up describing the chaos of his own bad luck as the music built before crashing into a heavy chorus that abruptly scaled back to only the bass and drums again. Taehyun jumped in on the vocals, adding a different color to layer over Yeonjun and then the chorus exploded once more.

When the bass tapered out, the lights let up their red glare enough for Yeonjun to be visible, smiling center stage. He waved cutely to the mob of girls pressed up against the stage, reaching for his hands and calling out. He asked if everyone was ready to have fun, introduced his bandmates, and before Soobin had even finished regaining his breath, they burst into another song.

He finally realized after half an hour of staring what was different about Yeonjun tonight.

Every light reflected off of him, drawing the eye to the details of his face and intricate lines of his body. And if Soobin squinted, with the aid of his heavy prescription glasses, he could just make out the luminous jewelry decorating him from head to toe. Matching silver studs framed his inner browline while two sets of opposite studs decorated their outer arches, creating a cat-eye like sweeping effect. He wore the same lip ring he had on in his cover photoshoot, and he had a set of triple rings lining the cartilage of each ear, while he had mismatched chains in his lobes. If Soobin really focused, he could even see a black diamond glittering in the inner part of his ear. He kept his silver cross necklace on, and had loose black cuffs around his wrists. A gem winked from his navel. Even more chains dangled off his hips, hooked into his belt loops, and his boots had silver studs. From every angle, he caught the light, glittering like a viper.

So maybe it wasn't Soobin's fault he stood there completely transfixed. Yeonjun designed himself in such a way to hypnotize his prey, and the rest of the bodies in the venue were no exception. They practically moved at his whim as one, swaying forward towards him, to the side when he danced across the stage, with bated breath when he fell to his knees in prayer.

Half of their set passed before Soobin remembered to take a single picture, double-checking his flash was off so as not to blind the performers on stage. He’d never hear the end of it.

This time, he fought to tear his attention away from Yeonjun's sermon, glancing over at the other musicians, noticing Kang Taehyun had taken his shirt off at some point, silver rings covering his fingers that moved with power across the fretboard of his white bass. He expected Kai to look the most out of place, but despite the happy half-smile on his face, he blended in perfectly, his platinum hair burning ultraviolet under the light, flicking his black drumsticks in tricks during off-beats. From what Soobin could make out, he wore a loose knit black top over a black tank and a few necklaces, his fashion simpler but balanced. He urgently tried to think like a journalist and not like prey. He didn’t need to be afraid. He could approach this analytically.

Finally, he looked at his subject for the night, Choi Beomgyu, and the instant thought that crossed Soobin's mind was that he seemed so cool. He sort of leaned back to hold the weight of his guitar, which was a bloody mauve color, shining with a pearlescent sheen. A white bandage had been wrapped around the low part of the neck -maybe it had cracked at some point?- which was covered in little drawings. But the cool part was Beomgyu himself, who played with a distinctly detached style, as if he could do anything else he wanted at the same time as he produced rapid-fire chords, watching Yeonjun and the crowd with mild interest. His fingers, half-obscured by pink and black fingerless gloves with nails painted black, moved like lightning, but he was able to joke around with Yeonjun and wear a half-smirk the entire set. It was obvious his instrument was the lifeblood, the central current running through everything they did, and while he looked confident, his expression was always so innocuous that Soobin couldn't quite call him cocky. He blinked at Yeonjun with a wide-eyed, heavy kohl-lined gaze whenever he talked to him between songs, nodding along or protesting to whatever he said in small quiet words. His long layered hair reminded Soobin of bird feathers, black streaked through with blond, and he had strands of silver tied in to catch the eye. He had a looser style too, more like Kai than Yeonjun, in just a Nirvana t-shirt and baggy grey jeans, but with almost as many ear-piercings and rings to match Kang Taehyun's.

Soobin mentally jotted down a dozen more questions for him.

Once he felt like he had paid everyone else the attention they were due, and observed enough for Beomgyu's interview later, he allowed himself to look at Yeonjun once more.

What a horrible idea. He was talking softly, melodically into the mic, moving his lips in the air barely against its head, looking down at it sensually, hands caressing the sides of the stand, moving up as the music built before releasing as he sang the chorus. Soobin had no idea what the song was about- maybe addiction, or dissatisfaction in love, some sort of boredom with a familiar stimulation, but he couldn't spare enough thought with the image of him taking up his entire mind. Yeonjun snatched the mic with a quick wave of his fingers and descended to the edge of the stage, swinging one of his legs under him so he could sit there and toy with the hands of his fans, making them feel like he was singing individually to each of them, shaking his hair back and purring up at the lights. When he murmured the pre-chorus, he rested his head in his hand and gazed sincerely into the eyes of one lucky girl. Then, he sprang up with the crash of the drums and flitted away back to the mic stand.

Soobin could watch him until the end of eternity, or at least until the angels above claimed his soul.

Unfortunately, the band wasn't booked to play that long, and they wrapped up with just a couple more songs. No encore that night- even though the crowd waited for a little while, they didn't emerge again, and soon enough, their equipment was being moved off-stage. Even the crowd dispersed eventually, heading for the bar, leaving Soobin to pull himself together and locate the band. Or at least, Choi Beomgyu.

If he could avoid talking to Yeonjun all night, he would count himself twice as successful.

He found the backstage access door quickly, just a couple meters away along the wall where he'd been standing all night. This time, it was locked and no one stood guard outside. Soobin sighed, and tried to locate security, finally finding someone up front.

"What do you need?" the woman asked briskly as soon as Soobin came up to her and softly tried to get her attention.

He held up his press badge. "I'm here to interview one of the artists and I was hoping you could help me find the green room."

She looked at him with suspicion, and motioned for him to hand over his badge. He did so, and she scrutinized it for a few seconds before radioing in, asking if a journalist was supposed to be there that night. Apparently, she got confirmation, because she nodded and passed his badge back to him. "Apparently the artist already cleared everything with their team. I'll take you back."

As Soobin followed her, he realized she must be security for the venue, then, and not for the artists. Did they have anyone looking out for them?

This place had a shallower staff access area than the last venue, but it wasn't so industrial. The floors were still wood and the walls were painted burgundy. Everything hung up on the walls had been framed, even the fire safety regulations. A couple of end tables decorated with potted plants filled the hall. She led him around a left turn, then pointed at two doors. "We've got two spaces for the artist. Just knock." Then, as if it were a last second thought, she said, "Hold on, I need to search you." Soobin nodded and emptied his pockets as she instructed. She inspected his camera, did a quick once over to make sure he hadn't hidden anything, then said, "Alright, you can take your stuff back. I'll be standing right outside the door."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

He glanced at both the doors. They were split up in pairs- he ignored the one with Yeonjun and Kai's names and instead knocked on the one marked Choi Beomgyu and Kang Taehyun. He would have to ask Kai later why on earth he chose to get ready with Yeonjun. It was probably a nightmare in there.

Kang Taehyun was the one to open the door, cracking it and peeking through. His brow furrowed, but before Soobin could introduce himself, Taehyun placed him in his memory. "You're that journalist. Here for Beomgyu-hyung, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I was just hoping to interview him quickly." He didn't usually get nervous, but Taehyun had such an intense expression and aura that he suddenly felt lesser in his presence.

Taehyun glanced behind him, maybe making sure that his bandmate was dressed, before holding the door wide. "Okay, come in."

Soobin stepped into the room, and immediately noticed how neat it looked. Or at least, one side looked extremely neat. All the clothes were hung up, nothing littered the ground, and even the makeup on the counter was meticulously organized. On the opposite side of the room, a few shirts hung on the arm of the couch and a set of resistance bands sat haphazardly on the coffee table. One bag lay open, spilling chords and loose paper. Still, it was a far cry from how Yeonjun's room had looked the other week, with makeup and clothes scattered everywhere, like a whirlwind had passed through.

Beomgyu stood near the makeup counter, giving Soobin a short wave as he finished wrapping up his fingers in bandages.

"What happened?" Soobin asked before he even thought to properly introduce himself.

"Couple of my calluses tore. It's not a big deal, but I don't want to risk reopening them or getting an infection tomorrow night," Beomgyu explained in a focused murmur.

"While you were on stage?"

"Yup."

Soobin hadn't even noticed anything wrong with him while they were playing, but that sounded painful. "Do you need a doctor?"

"Nope."

He glanced at Taehyun, who just shrugged. "I'm not going to argue with him. Anyway, I'm going to go grab a drink and meet up with the other two. I'll let you guys have the room."

"Order me something," Beomgyu said, examining his handiwork with careful attention.

"Yes, princess."

Beomgyu flipped him off in the mirror, but Taehyun just chuckled, slipping past Soobin out the door.

"You two seem like you have a good relationship," Soobin observed, getting out his notebook.

"I'd hope so. We're dating, after all."

"Oh." That was...forward. Not the sort of thing Soobin just expected him to announce to a stranger. "Are your fans aware?"

"Depends on how observant they are." Finally satisfied and able to move his fingers, Beomgyu turned from the mirror and went to sit on the couch. "You want to sit?"

"Um, sure." Soobin accepted his invitation, sitting on the far side and keeping his notebook balanced on his knee. "I know we've met before briefly, but just to re-introduce myself, I'm-"

"Choi Soobin," Beomgyu interrupted. "Yeonjun-hyung's friend."

He frowned. "Friend is generous. We're acquaintances. On the best of days."

Beomgyu raised his eyebrows. "Really? That's not how he made it sound."

Starting to panic, Soobin had to ask, "How did he make it sound?"

Smirking to himself, Beomgyu replied, "Just that you were his dongsaeng and he'd been looking out for you for a long time. Don't stress yourself out, dude, it wasn't that serious."

"Right, right, I guess that's true." Soobin awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Anyway, this is about you."

Despite his best attempts to reign in the situation, Beomgyu tilted his head and asked, "Why did you want to talk to me? Didn't you already talk with Yeonjun-hyung?"

At least that was an easier question to answer. "I did, but he said you would have a unique perspective on the band. There were some questions he couldn't answer, and he thought you were the best guy for the job."

And Yeonjun used Beomgyu to manipulate him into coming back.

Looking mildly flattered, Beomgyu pulled his knees up to his chest and nodded. "Cool. Like what?"

"Well, I was curious about how you guys go about producing your songs. Like, aside from the writing process, what goes into it?"

"Kai and I are always working on music. Usually, a song starts out as just a few bars that we thought sounded cool. For me, anyway, when I make music I'm trying to capture a vibe. So I make a sort of...proof of concept? If that makes sense. And then when we come together to flesh a piece out when we think it has potential. But I don't discard anything if it doesn't make the cut. I save the sample for later in case we can reuse it somewhere else."

"How do you decide if one of those concept pieces has potential?"

"Everyone listens to it. If someone gets inspired, then it's a green light. If not, then it goes in the backlog. And sometimes, Yeonjun or Taehyun will come to me with lyrics they've written, asking if we've come up with something that matches. Most of the time, it's a yes. And even if what we have doesn't match on the surface, piecing the two together can actually lead to some neat subversive stuff."

"So, you must be working on music all the time."

Beomgyu nodded, and Soobin genuinely got the feeling it wasn't an understatement. "Yeah. Pretty much whenever I can."

"What motivates you to work so tirelessly?"

"It doesn't really feel like work. My dream was always to play guitar, but my parents thought it wasn't very realistic. I was good at drawing, though, and my parents thought I could be an architect, so I went to art school and played in the band there. Met Taehyunnie through that. And I met Yeonjun-hyung at a panel interview for university. He seemed really cool, and we ended up getting into that same university, where Kai ended up going. I was kind of jealous that Taehyunnie got to pursue music and I didn't. Watching him work sort of motivated me to switch up what I was doing, and I'm way happier now because of it."

"So it really feels like a calling, then," Soobin noted, jotting down what Beomgyu had said in shorthand.

"Oh, totally. I enjoy life the most when I'm playing music."

Soobin nodded, and took that quote word for word. "You guys have a really distinct image. How did that come about?"

"Me and Yeonjun-hyung. We've both been part of the alternative scene for a long time. Even if our music doesn't always lean in that direction, our fashion is a big part of our identity. Yeonjun's into the edgier stuff, but between him and I, we make a pretty cohesive look. Taehyunnie tries his best- usually he's topless, so it doesn't really matter. And..." Beomgyu smiled to himself. "Kai's cute. But honestly, Yeonjun could probably tell you more about it. He's designed our look as part of the brand, I think it's pretty deliberate. I'm not the one reading all the contracts and meeting with our management team, though."

"Yeonjun does all that by himself?"

"For the most part. Obviously, if there's something big that all of us need to be involved in, we meet. But otherwise, Yeonjun-hyung handles a lot of the details."

"Is it because he's the oldest?"

"Partially. He's also the best at keeping us on point, though. I know he looks like a mess from the outside, but this really wouldn't be possible without him." Maybe Soobin looked doubtful, because Beomgyu lifted his chin, eyebrows raised. "No, seriously. It's like...Kai and I are sort of raw talent, right? But we're not leaders- we like feeling like we're part of something. And Taehyun's got all the technical know-how and lots of passion, but he's not empathetic enough to look out for us the way Yeonjun-hyung does. Hyung knows when we need a break, or when we need help refocusing, and all of that. He's a good leader."

"Interesting," was all Soobin said, even though he wrote down Beomgyu's explanation. "I want to get back on topic, though, if that's okay with you."

"Sure."

"Do you and Kai work together when you're producing?"

"Sometimes. We work separately on creating instrumentals a lot of the time. We each have a mixing program that lets us mimic other instruments, so I don't need him in the room to have a drumbeat. Same goes for him, and he plays guitar anyway. If we're chilling together though, during the day or after a show, we'll usually end up making something for fun. I like producing, like, doing the final mix and everything, but it takes me longer than it takes Kai, so he's probably got more songs under his belt."

"What's your favorite song that you've made?"

"Probably 'Season of Grey.' It's more sentimental and indie than some of the stuff we're known for, but I like the sort of cold, eerie quality of the instrumental. It's like witchy and comforting at the same time. Yeonjun's voice is great on it, too, obviously, but my favorite part is the instrumental. Kai produces a lot of our heavier stuff. So, whatever's leaning in the hardcore direction is his." Beomgyu leaned back then, covering his mouth as he yawned. "I really need that drink. How many more questions do you have?"

"Um..." Soobin glanced over his notes, trying to wrap up for him. "Just one, then."

"Go for it."

"You look really composed and comfortable on stage. Is that something you've had to train or have you always been that way?"

"Definitely not always. Some people don't get nervous, but I definitely did when I was younger. Like, when I used to play in my school band, I was always nervous. And I never felt comfortable playing at school talent shows or anything since I would be by myself. But that's largely faded now, and I think that has more to do with this group than my nerves. I'm really comfortable with these three guys, so even if I feel pressure to perform well, I know they have my back and if I mess up, it's not the end of the world."

Soobin nodded, and finished writing. "Thanks so much for making the time to sit down with me."

"No problem. Can I ask you a question, though?"

"Sure."

Beomgyu sat up, one leg dangling off the couch. "How'd you end up with this gig? Doesn't seem like you're super comfortable."

Soobin laughed a little at himself, knowing Beomgyu was right. "I'm not super comfortable, but I want to be here. It's really good luck that I landed this job. Just because this isn't my scene doesn't mean I'm going to turn down the opportunity."

Nodded, Beomgyu smiled. "Good answer." Then he stood and opened the door, saying, "I'm gonna go meet up with the others. Thanks."

"Mind if I tag along for a minute? I want to talk to Kai."

"We're in here," Taehyun called from the room across the hall.

"Oh." That worked out nicely. They both pushed into the room, Soobin instictively holding the door for Beomgyu who breezed past, immediately honing on the beer Taehyun had picked up for him. What Soobin noticed first however, was that-

"He went to the bathroom," Kai supplemented before the question even had to be asked.

Still, Soobin played dumb. He blinked, asking, "Who?"

Kai raised his eyebrows. "Yeonjun-hyung."

"Oh."

"In fact," Kai feigned concern, casting a frown over his shoulder at the opposite wall, likely looking in the direction Yeonjun had went, "he's been gone for a while now. Someone should probably go check on him, make sure he's not puking in the sink again."

"Gross," Beomgyu said with a wrinkled nose.

"I've seen you do worse," Taehyun remarked.

Beomgyu glared at him, but announced as he plopped down on the couch, "I'm not budging. Someone else can go chase after him."

Taehyun pulled him off the couch cushion and into his lap, essentially eliminating himself from the running as well.

Kai just blinked innocently at Soobin. "My feet hurt."

"Well, I don't actually need to see him, and it's already late, so-" Soobin started, but Beomgyu cut him off.

"Didn't Jiro come tonight?" He directed the question towards Kai, and to Soobin's shock, Kai gave a genuine dirty eye roll.

Whoever they were talking about, Kai absolutely hated them.

"Yeah."

"Well, then mystery solved," Taehyun murmured. "I'm pretty sure I know what hyung is doing in the bathroom."

Soobin tried to follow their conversation, but he felt like he was missing a key piece. Then, Kai grabbed his wrist and said, "Go check on him, please? He'll scold me for worrying, but he wouldn't do that to you."

"Kai, if he's with Jiro-" Beomgyu tried saying.

"All the more reason to put and end to it," Kai shot back.

"Just because you don't like him doesn't mean-"

"What, so you do like him?"

"I never said that," Beomgyu defended himself. "But it's not about what I like because it's none of my business."

Taehyun glanced between Beomgyu, then Kai, and back, before looking at Soobin nodding with his chin. "Just go check."

Coming from Taehyun rather than Kai, he felt less like he could say no, and so he just nodded. "Okay, where is it?"

"Go back out to the main hall and straight down. Should be the door on your left."

Soobin signalled that he understood and left the dressing room, shutting the door carefully behind him. There was an atrium at the end of the main hall that had two doors separated by a potted plant on an ornate roccoco table, and Soobin stopped outside the one on the left that said Men's Room.

He was about to push it open when he heard voices coming from the other side, too muffled to make out. Against his better judgment, he applied just enough pressure to crack the door and hear what was happening inside. He didn't want to interrupt something important.

Through the crack in the door, Soobin could see them. The overhead was dim and flickering, painting the tile walls a sickly green, but it cast enough light to illuminate Yeonjun, leaning against the bathroom sink, stiff and motionless. In front of him stood a guy Soobin didn't recognize. He was tall, dressed all in black, ripped jeans and a tight black tank top, and his stance was aggressive as he leaned into Yeonjun, cornering him in against the counter.

“Come on, babe, you know it’s not like that,” a deep but persuasive voice Soobin didn’t recognize came from the stranger. He had a slight accent, sort of nasal and clipped. Maybe Japanese. He dipped his head down to mouth along Yeonjun's neck, obviously trying to convince him to agree with whatever he had just said.

Soobin felt sick to his stomach. Had he really called Yeonjun…? Were they...? He didn’t want to think about it.

Yeonjun pushed him away, keeping him at arms length with his hand braced against his chest. “The pictures you sent sure made it seem that way. You’re telling me I’m reading too much into things?” Yeonjun retorted, keeping his chin lifted to level with him.

The guy gave up his attempt to persuade him physically, instead saying, “I don’t get why you would even be worked up in the first place. We’ve got a good thing going, don’t we? Do you really want to ruin it?”

“I don’t really see how this thing benefits anyone but you. Considering you get all messed up if I do what you’re doing.”

“Yeonjun,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Stop making me out to be some kind of hypocrite, it’s not fair.”

“You are, though,” he replied sharply, now jabbing finger against his chest. And the other guy didn’t seem to like that at all because he caught Yeonjun’s wrist and pressed his hand back against the counter, pinning it there. “You get pissed about me doing my fucking job while you’re sending me pictures of every guy you’ve been with in the last three days. Don’t you think that’s screwed up?”

“I think you’re taking it way too seriously,” is what the other guy said in response. “I’m not the one going out and getting fucked up beyond recognition every night. It’s a miracle if you even make it home half the time.”

“I always make it home,” Yeonjun hissed, and Soobin tensed as their argument grew more heated. This wasn’t any of his business. He shouldn’t be watching. “Just because you’re not there to see it happen.”

“Well, maybe I’d want to come home more if you weren’t fucking nagging me all the time and looking for an excuse to fight.”

“I don’t have to look for excuses,” he said coldly. “You give me plenty.”

“See, this,” the guy insisted. “This is the attitude that’s just so fucking insufferable. Maybe if you could just chill out for like five minutes and have a conversation with me-”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?”

“No!” The other guy’s voice gained volume and he pressed even closer against Yeonjun. “You’re just lecturing me and expecting me to shut up and take it.”

Yeonjun looked incredulous, protesting, “That’s not what I’m doing, and you know that.”

“Okay, then come home and we can talk about it.”

“I’m working,” Yeonjun dragged out the word as if trying to force it through his skull.

“God, Yeonjun, you're such a fucking coward. You’d rather live at the club and take any excuse not to come home. Like you're afraid or something."

Soobin could understand what he might be afraid of.

"I play clubs," Yeonjun retorted, but still his voice hadn't raised to match his. "It's my job. What, you want me to stop working? Don't you like the bed you sleep in and all the shit you have that comes out of my wallet?"

"Not enough to put up with your constant fucking around.”

Yeonjun got in his face, insisting, “But you’d never want me to quit, right? Because what would I even be to you then if I couldn’t get you drugs and an ounce of fame? Definitely not worth your fucking time, right?”

“Hear you go again!” The guy threw his hands up in the air in frustration before slamming them back down on the edge of the counter, caging Yeonjun in, who winced from the strength of his voice. “Saying you’d rather buy my affection than just listen to what I’m asking you to do.”

"I buy you shit because I love you," he hissed. "Isn't that how this whole thing works? Not everything is a fucking manipulation game. Tell me you hate it and I won't ever again, how about that?"

He just scowled and said, "You always think you're so fucking smart. Just because you went to a fancy school and get down on your knees for God."

He crossed his arms in surrender, bursting in frustration, "I don't know what you want from me! You want me to pay the bills, but you don't want me to work. You want me to love you but not show you how much. Does anything make you happy anymore?"

"You used to make me happy! Now you get too fucked up to even have a conversation with. You’re drunk every fucking day and you argue with everything I say. We used to have something good, why shouldn’t I want it back? That's what I want. Is that too much to ask?"

"No!" he readily agreed. "But-"

"Good," he cut him off. "Then we're on the same page."

"I wasn't finished-"

"I don't care," he said with finality and stepped back, head raised, staring him down. "I don't want to talk anymore. That's all I wanted to hear."

“Just that you’re right?” Yeonjun asked in disbelief. “All this just to get me to fucking bow my head and agree with you?”

“I just want you to see things my way,” he insisted. “For once in your life. God, why am I always the fucking bad guy?” His voice was gaining intensity again, and Soobin couldn't help but see the way Yeonjun's body pressed against the sink, the edge stabbing into his back, as far from him as he could get as though something in him wanted to flee.

"Is everything I do a fucking problem?"

"In that tone of voice? How could it not be? I'm just supposed to let you talk to me like that?"

"You're such a hypocrite. I literally can't win," he muttered under his breath.

"It's not a fucking competition! There's nothing to win."

"Clearly not anymore." Yeonjun looked desperate and lost, but his eyes were still bright with anger. "Unless you yelling at me is the prize."

This time, he didn't anticipate what might be coming his way, and when the hit connected with his cheek, both Yeonjun and Soobin were shocked. Yeonjun had more experience with it, though, and recovered more quickly. He just lowered his chin, staring at the floor, tongue pressed against his red cheek from the other side.

"You better fucking come home tonight," his boyfriend threatened, voice tight and bitter, before turning on his black boot heel and storming towards the door.

Soobin, still recovering from his shock, took a moment too late to realize he was directly in his path. He scrambled away from the door, but was still standing in the hall when it swung open and Yeonjun's boyfriend pushed past. Soobin thought he might have been lucky enough for him to be so lost in his anger that he simply passed him by, but God didn't reward sinners.

He stopped only long enough to stare him down and hiss, "Mind your fucking business," before disappearing down the hall.

At least he didn't hit him.

Torn, Soobin stood shell-shocked in the hall for a few moments after that, trying to figure out what to do next. But the pull of Yeonjun's energy still alone in the bathroom wouldn't let him be.

And so, on cautious feet, he made his way back over to the door and slowly pushed it open.

Yeonjun still stood at the bathroom sink, but now he was staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes were dark and defeated and filled with something Soobin recognized. Self-loathing. His knuckles, clutching the counter's edge, were quickly bruising, as if he'd punched something. He lifted his gaze slowly as Soobin stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Out," Yeonjun said, but his voice was tired, lacking the fire from a few minutes ago. When Soobin opened his mouth to reply, Yeonjun immediately shut him down, "It's none of your business. I don't want to hear what you have to say."

"You sure sound a lot like him."

It wasn't a nice thing to say, but it returned the fire to Yeonjun's eyes. "You don't know shit about him."

"No, but I know that what he did to you was messed up."

Yeonjun shook his head. "That's just how we are."

"What, do you hit him?"

"I don't know. I probably have."

"You probably remember him doing it a lot more."

Gaze lowered, Yeonjun muttered, "He's got a lot of reasons to be angry. It's my fault. Might as well let him take it out on me."

"You know that's messed up." When Yeonjun had nothing to say in response, Soobin said quietly, "You've never mentioned a...boyfriend...before."

Yeonjun shrugged. "He doesn't like the scene. I mean, he loves the music, and the partying, and the drugs, but not so much when I'm there, too. So he doesn't come out with me very often."

"Why exactly are you together if he doesn't want to be around you?"

With an acidic little laugh, Yeonjun said, "You know, that's a good fucking question. I wish the answer was better than 'he likes what my name gets him,' but I'm afraid that's all I've got."

Soobin leaned against the wall. "And that's good enough for you?"

"Apparently. I put up with a lot of shit for it, so..."

"You know, I thought you were..."

Yeonjun's gaze hardened in the mirror as he waited for Soobin to continue. "What? Go on."

He wasn't sure he wanted to. He couldn't understand how he felt about everything that had just happened. Of course, he felt sympathy for Yeonjun, but he couldn't deny the anger that was flaring up inside his heart as well alongside the hurt. He thought Yeonjun...wanted something more from him.

Still, Yeonjun always had an uncanny trick of reading Soobin's mind and the conflict on his face. "What, you thought I was on the table for you to experiment with? Sorry, but I'm not interested in being used by a virgin to figure out what makes his dick hard."

Usually, Soobin would wilt and leave with his tail between his legs, but his anger had hardened into a pillar. Something to hold him up and stiffen his spine for once. And so when he simply said, "You don't want to be with that guy," flat and unbiased, Yeonjun's aggressive stance was instead the thing to wilt.

It wasn't like he had told Yeonjun a secret about himself. They knew each other too well for that.

"It's complicated."

"Go ahead and explain, then. I'm a good listener."

Frustrated, Yeonjun turned on the tap, scrubbing his hands clean as though to wash off his shame. "I don't know what I want. It's not...about me. It's about putting more important things first. I love Jiro. Sometimes I think he's going to kill me, but...we've shared a lot of hard shit. And even when I'm fucked up and don't deserve him, he's there for me. I don't know if I'm ever going to find that in someone else. He's got my back. My mom likes him, even if she doesn't know the full scope of it. And that matters more."

"No offense, but it sure didn't look like he was there for you. It looked like he hated you."

Yeonjun snorted. "Yeah, he probably does hate me. I don't know why he stays, honestly. I guess because I'm easy to push around. But having me is good for him, too. It gets him into clubs and makes him fake friends. Whatever. I don't know, I guess it doesn't make any sense. I guess what I'm getting at is that we both benefit. I have a friend outside of the band, even one who hates me, and he can party under my name and have a guy around when he's horny. It works."

"You're delusional if you think that's functional."

Cracking a crooked smile, Yeonjun remarked, "Someone's in a mood tonight. Did it get you that riled up, the fact that I have a boyfriend?"

He read him way too easily. He tried not to let the extent of his hurt feelings show.

Still, Soobin kept his expression neutral and replied, "No, that wasn't it. It was seeing you flinch every time he got close."

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. "It's not that serious." With that, he splashed some water over his face, making the eyeliner under his eyes run, and raked his fingers through his hair. He looked like a mess, exposed and disheveled, and still Soobin wanted to look at him until the sun rose. "I'm going to go 'get fucked up,' as Jiro would say. You can come, but I really think you should go home."

"Or you could drink some water and get a decent night's sleep," Soobin suggested, even though he knew he was fighting a losing battle. "You look like a vampire."

"Thanks. Vampires are hot," Yeonjun replied cheerily, brushing past him and placing his hand briefly on his bicep as he did so.

The touch only lasted a second but it was enough to string him along like a puppet.

Of course he would be going. If only to keep an eye on him.

He trailed behind, following Yeonjun through the ever-present masses of bodies that always graced the holes he haunted. Without even turning to check if he had come along, Yeonjun said loud enough, "You go ahead and order something to drink. Put it on my tab. I'm gonna go find my friends."

Soobin had no idea how he thought he might manage to find his bandmates in the sea of club-goers, but then again, doubting him had only turned out poorly for Soobin in the past.

He ordered whiskey for Yeonjun- part of him didn't want to enable his blatant alcoholism but the other, more understanding and selfish part of him, knew Yeonjun had to be medicating whatever just happened to him with booze and probably relied on it to get through the night. He got himself an iced tea, and drinks in hand, went to tackle the gargantuan task of locating Yeonjun and the rest of Arcane Violet.

The large crowd of girls in black clustered towards the tables in the back were probably a strong starting point.

Sure enough, the band had grouped there for a moment of solace and found themselves flocked by fans clutching posters, napkins and receipts. Some even held out their phones to be signed. Yeonjun looked tired but mostly sober, and smiled as he gave signature after signature, even posing for a few pictures. Kai beamed brightly and greeted everyone, but Soobin could see him subtly shifting his larger body to shield his friends from the worst of it. Kang Taehyun didn't get up out of his seat, but accepted what was passed to him, nodding and listening to whatever their fans had to say with big sincere eyes. Beomgyu sort of half-sat-half-stood beside him, propped up on his knee, arms extended to sign the shoulder of one girl's tank top.

Soobin became infinitely more grateful that they had chosen to do their interview in the green room earlier.

Carefully, he edged past the crowd, leading with his shoulder to deliver their drinks successfully to the table. He was surprised they let him in, and Yeonjun was just as surprised to see him, whiskey and everything. Still, he reached automatically for the glass, but Soobin withheld it and remarked, "You're comfortable like this?"

Yeonjun glanced at his friends, who just blinked back at him until Kang Taehyun nodded at him to move. At the same time, he gestured to the other members, and in a matter of seconds, everyone had vacated the table with their drinks. The crowd of girls moved with them, a few lingering to give Yeonjun sideways glances, as if weighing their options, before deciding three was better than one. Yeonjun slipped back into the booth, collapsing against the leather with an exhausted sigh. His drink disappeared faster than Soobin could even think of what to say.

And Yeonjun frowned at his empty glass, then looked around, asking, "Where's the rest?"

"What do you mean, the rest?"

"You're telling me you didn't buy the bottle? I told you I wanted to get fucked up."

"I wasn't about to put an entire bottle of whiskey on your tab."

"Silly boy," Yeonjun murmured to himself, but looked despondent. His expression was sour enough for Soobin to get to his feet, ready to fix his mistake. Yeonjun followed him with curious eyes. "Are you being my knight in shining armor?"

"I'm being an enabler," Soobin huffed, but his memories of what had just happened to Yeonjun were fresh enough to have him already heading back towards the bar, and returning a few minutes later with a full bottle. "Pace yourself, please," he warned as he set it on the table.

"My pace is breakneck. Or passed out."

"You're going to die living like that."

Yeonjun toasted with his glass. "Wouldn't that be nice." It wasn't a question. Just a flat, emotionless observation.

Soobin drew circles in the wood, coming up with ways to avoid the elephant in the room. "Why don't you guys hang out backstage after the show?"

"We do sometimes, but it's lonely. If we like the other bands, we'll hang out and get drinks with them, but it doesn't always work out. Like tonight, we’re not really in the same age group and we don’t know them that well. And the atmosphere back there sucks. Out here, it's loud and alive. Not just the four of us. I can't wait until our management team realizes we need security detail, but until then, it's not the worst thing. I like meeting fans. It's cool to talk to everyone. I just worry that I'm not always the best host."

"It would be hard to be engaging all the time. Even stars need breaks."

"Yeah, but I don't want to say that to some sweet girl who's going to cherish the picture of us together for the rest of her life. It would make me sound like a dick."

"I guess that's true."

Yeonjun was surprisingly down-to-earth when it came to his budding stardom, Soobin was beginning to realize. Before the thought could slip his mind, he retrieved his notebook and jotted it down for their feature.

"What are you writing?"

"I'm reminding myself to compliment you later."

"Compliment me now."

"Demanding praise isn't very punk rock."

"Demanding what you want instead of asking is very punk rock, actually. Kind of the whole core of the movement. We'll take what we want, even if it means fighting, and there's nothing the corporate masses can do about it."

"Yeah, but instead of demanding livable wages, gender equality, and the end to political corruption, you want me to tell you that you're pretty."

He expected Yeonjun to protest, but instead, he just lifted a nonchalant shoulder and took a sip of his drink. "You can't win wars with demoralized soldiers."

The compliment rose to the tip of his tongue, but he thought of Yeonjun's boyfriend, his violence and unbridled anger, and let the words die in his throat. "I don't think you should be turning to me for ammunition," was all he could say instead. He didn't want to be caught in the middle of whatever storm surrounded Yeonjun and his life.

Yeonjun sighed and just murmured, "I know." Then, he glanced behind him, as if expecting his boyfriend to materialize in the shadows where he least expected. When he assured himself that there was no one there, he turned back to Soobin, looking him in the eyes and stating plainly, "What I said to you earlier was rude. It was just sort of an off-the-cuff reaction. I didn't mean to imply that I thought you were using me, or anything. Sorry for that."

The last thing he anticipated Yeonjun would do was apologize to him. Especially within an hour of the situation occurring. And if Yeonjun could step back and be the bigger person, Soobin figured he owed him the same respect. "It's fine. I don't blame you, given what you just walked out of."

"I don't want you to worry about that. I'm sure from your perspective, it looked worse than it actually is. We don't normally fight like that, but we're both passionate people, so when things escalate, it can get out of hand fast." Soobin felt the strong urge to make a comment regarding hands and where they shouldn't be going out to, but Yeonjun didn't give him the opening. "And I also don't want you to think I'm like...unfaithful or anything. Jiro and I are in an open relationship. So...I hope you won't get the impression that I'm fucking around trying to cheat on him when I make jokes around other guys and stuff."

Soobin had never had the wind knocked out of him before, but he figured it must be somewhat comparable to what he felt now. He floundered for a response that didn't sound pathetic and desperate. Nothing came.

It almost sounded like Yeonjun was implying…no, he was just hearing what he wanted to hear.

Granted, Soobin didn't really understand. He had heard the term open-relationship before, but never explicitly thought about it. He was sure it worked for some people. He didn't know if it would ever work for him. And based on the fight he had overheard earlier, he wasn’t sure it was really working for Yeonjun, either.

"Oh...okay," he said very eloquently. Then, realizing he needed to do some damage control to not look like a complete joke, he used the only tactic he knew: Interview. "Do you like that? Being in an open relationship, I mean."

Yeonjun made a face that very much implied his answer. "Typically, no. But it's fine. It works for us."

"Okay..." he said again. It didn't matter if he didn't believe him. Yeonjun wasn't trying to convince anyone, let alone himself.

Keen on dropping it, Yeonjun instead asked, "Why'd you stick around? You already finished up with Beomgyu, right?"

"Yeah, I did. But I felt something about my neighborly obligation to see you home safe, or whatever."

"Sounds like you already consulted our youth pastor."

Soobin felt himself flush, and took a long drink of his lemonade. Thinking about it as an adult, he found it sort of funny, the way they were expected to confess to their youth pastor about anyone they were interested in before confessing to that person themselves. That way, if he felt like they were making bad choices or distracting from more important things, he could steer them on the right path and offer guidance.

"I never had to do that."

"I never wanted to do that." Yeonjun made a face, reminded of his disdain for the man who presided over their afternoons. "I always thought he was a prick."

Even though Soobin would never use the same language, he secretly agreed. "I always felt like he was more interested in leading the girls than us."

"Oh, I'm sure he was interested in them alright," Yeonjun replied sarcastically, and it took Soobin a second to realize what he was implying.

"No, you don't think-?"

Yeonjun gave him a pitying look. "Did you not hear? He married Park Jiyoung."

His eyes went wide. "Park Jiyoung from our youth group?"

"Yeah, they got married like five years ago."

Feeling faintly ill, he replied, "No, I didn't hear that."

"Oh. Lucky you."

Five years ago she would have just turned nineteen. Their youth pastor had to be well into his late thirties. "That's...sick," Soobin finally managed to say, and it was the first time he had ever voiced a negative opinion about anyone in their congregation. He shouldn't have. It wasn't right to pass judgment on other people, only God could do that, but Yeonjun was nodding along like he agreed.

"Soobin-ah," Yeonjun said suddenly in a soft voice, rubbing the pink part of his cheek.

He blinked, staring at Yeonjun with wide eyes. "Yes?"

"Thanks for talking to me tonight. You didn't have to."

As soon as he had seen Yeonjun in his bathroom, the thought to leave hadn't even crossed his mind.

"I wanted to."

Yeonjun leaned in, intently asking, "Why?" with blue neon lights from the bar illuminating stars in his eyes.

Soobin felt himself warming up under his gaze and mumbled the excuse of, "I think you need a sober person around."

Laughing, Yeonjun sat back in his seat. "You're probably not wrong. Speaking of, I'm going to go finish this backstage with the other guys." He tapped his finger against the glass of the whiskey bottle. "Do you want to come?"

"Um..." He had overstayed his welcome at this point, and he knew remaining any longer would push him way past his comfort zone. "I should get home. It's late. Thanks, though."

He sort of wished Yeonjun looked disappointed, but he just nodded like that was the answer he had been expecting. "Get home safe, then. Thanks again for the chat."

"Sure," he said sort of breathless, letting Yeonjun stand and collect himself. "See you...Sunday, maybe."

As soon as Yeonjun was out of sight, Soobin dropped his head into his hands and sighed. He couldn't keep letting Yeonjun humiliate him like this. He was pathetic. Aggressively running his fingers through his hair, he tried to think.

Obviously, he wasn't fooling anyone. Yeonjun knew how Soobin really felt about him, it was written all over his face every time he dangled a tantalizing morsel of his affection in front of his eyes.

But Soobin didn't know how he felt about him. Yeonjun stole the breath from his lungs with a simple look, and set him alight with a touch of his hand. Still, that didn't make them friends. He could barely hold a conversation with Yeonjun without getting tongue-tied or overrun by the negative thoughts swirling around his mind. He wasn't sure he even wanted to attempt being friends again. But he also couldn't just sit there and let Yeonjun walk all over him in full knowledge of the power he possessed.

Really, he should stop talking to him here and now. Let tonight be the last time. He was done with his interviews, he never had to watch the band play again, and it wouldn't be any different from the status quo if he continued to ignore him at church.

His only realistic option -if he wanted to preserve his sanity and the years he had spent being faithful to what he believed- was to cut Yeonjun out. It shouldn't be difficult. Yeonjun might even let him.

He sighed again, unsure of whether he wanted that to be wishful thinking or not.

The bus ride home would be a perfect place to either parse his thoughts out on his own, or at the very least, ask God for a little guidance.

...

Why Soobin came into the office after being out until two in the morning the previous night, even he couldn't say. At this point, his eyes were swimming with words, and when he blinked for too long, he fell into the world's lightest nap.

Still, the work needed to be done. As he sat there reviewing his notes from the evening before -he had gone to see an upcoming vocal pop group and ended up getting trapped by the crowds in Hongdae- a notification popped up on his phone. Typically, Soobin would glance, acknowledge that it needed to be tended to eventually, and return to the task at hand.

This time, he recognized the number on screen. It didn’t have a name saved to it. He had deleted the contact a long time ago.

But the number remained the same after all these years.

Disbelief getting the best of him, Soobin felt as if he were in a surreal dream when he picked up his phone and unlocked the screen. On the display, the notification just read:

What are you doing right now?

It had been a few weeks now since they last talked. Soobin read the message three times. Then he looked over at his desk, the small cubicle containing his world, heard the clicking of keys and running of printers and wondered how these two realities -these two separate lives- managed to coincide.

He had kept Soobin’s number after all these years.

It took him two attempts to reply. The first didn’t come out near eloquent enough. The second was better, but likely still betrayed his bewilderment.

Working. Like every day. Why?

The response came in immediately. Yeonjun never had any anxiety about social etiquette.

What time do you get off?

A straightforward answer to his question would have been far more useful than just another puzzle.

Depends on how long it takes me to write this article. Again, why?

You want to come to our show later?

Why would Yeonjun invite him out of the blue? Soobin wasn't the type to go out even on a Friday, and he only did so now because he was getting paid for it.

Depends on how long it takes me to write this article.

If Yeonjun wanted to be all distant and mysterious, then two could play at that game.

Sorry, didn’t mean it like a question. I know you want to come.

Soobin had never been more tempted by that middle-finger emoji. Still, he refused to give in.

Do you want something, or can I get back to work?

Come get coffee with me.

^^see above where I said I’m working.

I love a career man as much as the next guy, but I need you to take your lunch break.

Ignoring the way that made him blush, he just tried to think of an articulate response.

It’s 4pm.

Yeah, and I know you’re the type of guy to work through lunch.

So leave early. Or something, I don’t care how you do it.

Have you ever asked nicely for anything a day in your life?

Not in a long fucking time and I’m not about to start now.

Come on <3 You know you want to <3

Why on God’s green earth are you using heart emojis with me

Because I know you like it

Soobin-ah~ Let me buy you a coffee~ <3

Oh you’re paying?

Duh, I’m your hyung

You should’ve opened with that. Text me the address.

[location attached]

It shouldn’t have worked. It shouldn’t have worked at all. But somehow, Soobin found himself standing up, quietly approaching his manager’s office, and informing him that he had a headache from the late nights. Like clockwork, he told Soobin to get some rest and continue writing at home. And so he packed up his things. He plugged the address Yeonjun sent him into his GPS app, reasserting in his mind that if it was ridiculously far, he wouldn’t even bother.

He wished his heart dropped in disappointment when it popped up: six minutes walking distance.

Like he had planned it all.

And so he walked. The season had already begun turning brisk. The whisking past of autumn had him tightening his scarf around his neck, hands tucked into his pocket. Loose debris crunched under his feet, then got kicked up by the wind once more.

Others blew past with just as much impermanence. University students hustled by, couples walked hand-in-hand. Salarymen carrying cases rushing hurriedly from place to place.

It was strange to think he looked more like them than the students, his youth ever present on his mind and how fleeting it could really be. He was still young. But the pace and weight of the world made him feel way beyond his years.

When he was young, adults would praise his mentality. He was mature, well-mannered, careful. A good son, raised right by good parents and by God.

But as he got older, those blessings became burdens. Life came bearing down all too quickly, everything suddenly wrapped up in a rinse and repeat routine that could only be perpetuated and rarely broken. If he wanted all those blessings to be true -and bestowed upon the right person- he needed to show up in every moment as the mature and careful son everyone proclaimed him to be.

His relationship with Yeonjun felt strange because Yeonjun had always managed to take those characteristics, those blessings in the eyes of his parents, and make them human.

You’re so mature, his parents would say.

Why are you so serious all the time? Yeonjun would ask.

You’re so cautious, his parents would praise.

Why are you so afraid? Yeonjun would speculate.

Yeonjun’s world was not composed of a delicately-balanced house of cards. And so he didn’t understand Soobin’s fear of pushing even one out of place. But at the same time, he also didn’t hold Soobin to the standards that made him feel so trapped in front of others.

He knew he listened and felt drawn to him now because Yeonjun was different. Because he offered a break from the pressure and from the constant routine. Every time they spoke now, it felt like Soobin’s life altered course just a little as a result of his words.

Was it normal to give someone else so much power over his providence?

His phone brought him to a little shop tucked into the bricks. He took the scuffed stairs two at a time, noticed the fluttering posters and adverts for live music that had been tacked up to the cork board by the entrance, before pulling the door open.

He noticed Yeonjun right away, an intriguing shadow spilling over the counter, impossible to miss. Wearing dark grey denim washed jeans and a near-sheer black and grey sweater, he drew the eye like the descending twilight. The chains around his waist clinked together when he twirled to lean against the counter.

On the other side, the barista leaned into him, tucking her hair behind her ear and nodding along with whatever words came out of his mouth. Long-forgotten was the cup in her hand that likely had his drink order scrawled in flustered handwriting.

In typical Yeonjun fashion, he ignored Soobin until he stood right in front of him, and even then, only glanced up to meet his gaze once before continuing on with his conversation about how an iced Americano was more water than coffee and a perfect late-afternoon drink. She smiled and laughed along and Soobin knew Yeonjun would keep talking for that kind of attention until the cafe closed.

So, Soobin politely cleared his throat. She stopped giggling, and he could say, “Sorry, hate to interrupt, but can I order?”

The barista assessed his suit and the case he carried and bowed in apology. “Of course, sir! So sorry about that! What can I get for you?”

He heard Yeonjun scoff sir under his breath and felt a smidge of self-satisfaction.

As soon as he passed on his order and she turned away to make their drinks, he glared at Yeonjun. “There’s no way you begged me to leave work just so I could sit here and watch you flirt with the barista.”

“No, that was just a happy coincidence,” Yeonjun replied with utter sincerity. “Besides, I wasn’t flirting. If I was actually flirting, she wouldn’t be working anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

With a cocky smile, he answered, “If I want someone to drop everything for me, they will. Isn’t that right, Bin-ah?”

It took him too long to realize Yeonjun was talking about him, but the second it hit, he felt his ears flush red. “It’s not like that. I had a killer headache, anyway.”

“Aw, and you still came to see me? What does that say about you?”

“That I like to suffer,” Soobin muttered, feeling at least an ounce of victory when the smirk slid from Yeonjun’s face. “Seriously, though, what is this about?”

Yeonjun blinked. “What?”

“Making me leave work. Why?”

He frowned. “Because I wanted you to.”

“Yeah, but why?”

Yeonjun waved his question away. “You’re thinking too much. It’s not that deep.”

“I don’t care how deep it is, I want a real answer. I thought maybe something bad had happened.”

“Soobin-ah, it doesn’t have to be an emergency for me to want your company. Also, you’re my closest friend on this side of town, and I didn’t want to sit here alone. Is that a good enough answer…sir?”

He could do without the cheekiness but at least that made sense in his brain. There wasn’t anyone else around for Yeonjun to hang out with. So he picked Soobin as a last resort. That sounded more like the Yeonjun he knew.

“Alright,” he relented. And then his words circulated a little longer, and he found himself dwelling on one particular thing. “Your closest friend on this side of town? I find that hard to believe.”

Yeonjun shrugged. “It’s true. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“You must not know anyone in Yongsan, then.”

“Maybe I don’t.” He must’ve seen Soobin’s expression fall because he sighed and rolled his eyes. “Soobin, stop taking everything so seriously. I know lots of people in Yongsan. I would just rather hang out with you. There. Better?”

“Slightly,” he admitted. He would rather embarrass himself than lie.

Yeonjun reached up and patted his cheek before lamenting his lot in life with another sigh. His touch was warm and dry, and Soobin could feel the second it left. “Oh, my delicate flower. However do you get on without me?”

“Easily and comfortably.”

“And yet you yearn for my praise.”

“No, I just like you better when you’re nice to me.”

“That’s what I just said.”

Soobin didn’t have time to retort as the barista handed over their drink orders just then. It didn’t take a detective to note the phone number written indiscreetly on the side of Yeonjun’s cup.

“What was that about you not really flirting?” Soobin muttered as they made their way over to a free table.

Yeonjun shrugged. “Not my fault if she took it personally. Maybe I’m just too good.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“See, this?” Yeonjun gestured with a very pointed finger between them. “This is double-standards. I have to be nice to you but you get to call me insufferable? That’s not fair.”

“I’d agree if I didn’t think you liked it,” Soobin replied honestly. “But at this point, you’ve got to be seeking it out.”

Putting on a good show at being miffed, Yeonjun took a sip of his Americano and remarked, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Satisfied, Soobin leaned back in his seat and drank his latte. As much as he wanted to pretend Yeonjun dragging him out here was a real inconvenience, the coffee was warm and sweet and exactly what he needed to combat his headache. He could just do without all the backhanded conversation. “Exactly.”

Yeonjun pursed his lips for a moment as if considering something before he asked, “Soobin, do you think I’m pretty?”

It was such a straightforward question that his brain didn’t even know how to answer. Only his heart seemed to jumpstart, suddenly working over time.

Thankfully -or maybe not- his mouth had one primed for once too. “I always think you’re pretty.”

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes as if he didn’t believe him, and just said, “Hm.”

Trying not to turn red again, he instead made a pass at playing it off. “Why do you ask?”

“My manager. He made a comment about how I didn’t look very ‘pretty’ at our last gig, and apparently, some fans were disappointed. I didn’t even know that was a thing. Or that anyone cared.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say. And I doubt it mattered half as much as he made it seem.”

“Hm,” Yeonjun just said again, dragging a finger through the growing condensation on his cup. “That’s a kind perspective. Show business is weird."

"The more you tell me about it, the more concerned I become."

"Concerned for me?"

Not willing to keep stroking his ego, Soobin simply replied, "Concerned for everyone involved. It sounds exploitative."

"So does journalism," Yeonjun pointed out. "Your boss is basically prostituting you."

"I'm sorry, what? How?"

"Using your body to get what he wants. Working you to the point of exhaustion because he can't be bothered to pay more people. It's inhumane if you ask me."

"I think you're really overestimating how hard I work."

"What, so you come by those dark circles honestly?"

"Of course," he replied, leaning back in his seat. "They're sexy."

"And who told you that?"

"Anime."

Yeonjun was silent for a moment, waiting for the punchline; but when none came, he just pulled a face. "You can't be serious."

Soobin shrugged. "Not really. I wanted to see your face. Worth it."

"Soobin-ah, the world is filled with so many useful enriching hobbies. Let me help you."

"I like my hobbies. You thinking they're lame has no bearing on that."

A pout appeared on his lips. "Are you saying my opinion doesn't matter to you?"

Soobin nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"How cruel," he sulked, stirring his coffee.

"Don't you have a show tonight?" Soobin eventually asked, turning the tide of conversation.

Yeonjun perked up. "Yeah. Should be fun."

"What time do you usually head over to the venue?"

"Depends what time we start. We're not on until ten tonight. So...probably around eight-thirty? If we want to be responsible."

"Do you all go together?"

"Usually. The other guys are lugging around a lot of equipment, so it's easier to carpool in Beomgyu's van."

"It's still weird to me that you're in a band with Kai. Honestly, I can't quite wrap my head around it."

Curious, Yeonjun asked, "Why's that?"

Soobin pursed his lips, mulling over the best answer. "Kai is..."

"Too good for us?" Yeonjun gave a stab at it himself.

"Sort of. That's not how I would have put it, though. He's like a younger brother to me. The hyung part of me doesn't want him running around with the likes of you," he joked.

"Well, you're in luck because unfortunately, I've barely rubbed off on him. He's still straight-laced and sweet," Yeonjun consoled him, taking his joke in stride. "He just wants to play music. Doesn't care much for all the other crazy shit, but he does like the bar. I'm not going to pretend he's totally clean."

"As long as you keep him from being a messy drunk, I don't care that much."

"I would never let my bandmates embarrass themselves in public. That's my job."

Soobin tilted his head. "Which part is your job? Protecting them or embarrassing yourself in public?"

Yeonjun lifted a coy shoulder. "Guess I have two jobs."

Realizing his jab sounded mean-spirited, Soobin softened his tone. "I don't think you embarrass yourself. Both times I watched you perform, it was really good. You're talented."

"I wasn't talking about when I'm onstage, but that's really sweet of you to say, Bin-ah."

"Well, I can't vouch for you offstage."

"Come to more shows and you can vouch for me anytime."

Soobin wrinkled his nose. "That sounds like a full-time job. Pass."

"You're already getting paid for it," Yeonjun pointed out, swirling the ice in his drink.

"And it's torture."

"You're so dramatic. People think you're this chill, down-to-earth guy, but in reality, you're the biggest drama queen."

He raised his eyebrows. "In contest with someone like you? Really?"

Yeonjun sat back in his chair. "Hey, I'm not dramatic. I'm loud, but I'm not dramatic. You, though...everything is such an inconvenience for your poor pretty princess hands."

Soobin stretched his hands out in front of him on the table. "These are very big and masculine, thank you."

He didn't like the way Yeonjun leaned in to examine his fingers, gently holding his hand and flipping it over to expose his palms. He swiped his thumb along them in a swift caress. "Sure, they're big. But soft. Delicate. No callouses, no stories."

"Are you one to talk?" he asked, locking his larger fingers around Yeonjun's hands and turning tables. "Yours are soft."

Yeonjun took Soobin's index finger with his other hand and dragged it along his own. Sure enough, a raise of tough skin indicated a callous.

"What's that from?"

"Used to be from sketching. Now it's from writing. Holding a pencil, I guess."

Feeling his own skin growing warm, he quickly retracted his hand, tucking it safely back under the table. "Because that's so manly."

Yeonjun arched his eyebrows. "There's a proverb in here somewhere about a pot and a kettle. You're literally a writer."

Soobin sighed, "Yeah, I know. Guess neither of us are building impressive callouses, unless we count the one on your liver."

That comment caused Yeonjun to laugh hard enough he choked on his drink, coughing a little as Soobin watched in concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he reached for Yeonjun's hand again. The other one was covering his mouth.

"Yeah." Yeonjun pulled himself together, moving his hand away from his mouth once he could breath. "Sorry. You're just funnier than I remember."

"Ouch."

He shrugged. "I think you've actually loosened up a little, Soobin-ah. Who knew it was even possible?"

"It's probably just the exhaustion," he admitted. "I don't have the energy to be as straight-laced. Maybe if you catch me on a different day."

"Long night?"

He nodded. "I was out interviewing a pop group in Hongdae. Their fans are crazy."

"Worse than ours?"

"Way worse," he stated darkly, remembering how swarmed and overwhelmed he had felt just trying to get close enough to the group to talk with them. "Yours at least leave you alone if you ask nicely enough."

Yeonjun looked kind of proud. "That's true. We're lucky, but we're also not that big yet. The more stars you start interviewing, the worse it's going to get. What's been your favorite so far?"

Soobin knew he should say that indie band he had watched his first couple of weeks on the assignment, but, "You guys."

"You don't have to flatter me."

"I'm serious."

"Really?"

Reluctantly, Soobin nodded. "It's not my favorite style of music, but it's the performance I've enjoyed the most. Maybe it's because I know you and Kai, so I feel like I have a more personal stake in it." He shrugged. "But it's true."

"So, you do want to come tonight?"

He sighed. "I would, but I'm exhausted from last night."

Yeonjun nodded. "That's okay." Then, he checked the time on his phone and said, "I still have a couple of hours to kill."

"What are you going to do?"

"Go for a walk, probably. There's a spot I like just a few blocks from here."

The unspoken invitation lingered, and although the rational thing to do would be to turn him down again, Soobin ventured, "That sounds nice. What is it?"

"An old overgrown park. It's really beautiful on days like this."

Soobin glanced out the cafe window, seeing haze and shades of grey, wondering how something in this kind of weather could be described as beautiful.

"Can I come with you?"

He wanted to see the beauty Yeonjun saw in the world. Maybe it would help him understand his mind just a little more.

Blinking cutely, like he hadn't expected Soobin to even ask, Yeonjun was quick to nod, finishing his drink. "Sure. I can't promise it'll be fun, though. Usually I just lay on the grass for a few hours."

"Let me keep you company, then." The speakers overhead were playing a quiet gritty guitar melody, the bass low and parallel and humming in his veins. It lent him an unfamiliar confidence.

Yeonjun gave a little smile and lifted his shoulder in a shrug, as if resigning himself to whatever the universe had in store. "If you want to." He stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and Soobin followed suit, both of them recycling their cups on the way out.

To his surprise, Yeonjun loosely placed his fingertips on Soobin's bicep, steering him in the right direction even though he could have followed behind on his own just fine. He tried to breathe normally, lose himself in the familiar stream of people passing by and his breath escaping in wisps against the crisp air. As they walked, Yeonjun's hand slid subtly down his arm, electric even through Soobin's coat sleeve, until he pointed with his other hand at a dense patch of greenery in the distance.

"The entrance is just over there." His voice started to transform, faint and glasslike, blending into the grey of their surroundings. He sounded a little out of breath, too, as if the cold stripped the air from his lungs.

The trees and foliage breached the sky in shades of moss and midnight green, turned frigid by the horizon.

Yeonjun had him by the wrist now, leading him into the park. The light lingered in that strange time between afternoon and twilight on a cold fall day, and so the sky filtering through the trees was not sunshine white and green but autumn blue, pale like a robin's egg but casting no warmth. Like grey crept up the roots of the trees and veins of the leaves. It turned Yeonjun corpse-white, a beacon in the blue-grey haze.

Soobin followed him blindly, noticing how the sky sucked out even the browns and yellows, leaving only black branches overhead and the iciness above.

It was as though they had entered a ghost realm. His feet kept moving, but the crunching of forest debris underfoot sounded muffled. Eventually, Soobin had to glance at Yeonjun walking beside him, tugging him along. His eyes mirrored the sky like a stained glass window, cold and grey. His breath billowed out in front of his cracked red lips. He blended in with everything, a beautiful flickering spirit, turned revenant before his eyes. And then he caught Soobin looking, but didn't say a word, just pushed on more intently.

Usually his mind would be racing at a time like this, planning for the worst, wondering where they could possibly be going, but something about the landscape around them quieted the voices. Like he had joined the ghosts, floating aimlessly, pursuing the one light bobbing in front of him in the form of Yeonjun's body.

He had made peace with the idea of sunset by the time the trees began to thin, and when they emerged into a clearing, what he would usually find unremarkable struck him with a cold beauty. Dying grass, a few cracked stumps, and chunks of crumbling stone. When Yeonjun dropped his hand, it left a phantom cold behind. He walked a few steps past Soobin towards one of the stumps, and from within it, he dragged out a bottle full of amber liquid. Bottle in hand, Yeonjun slung the bag off his shoulder and produced a blanket, which spread like snow or the fallen lonely wings of an empty parachute, companion lost to the vastness of the black and blue icy maw above.

Soobin had never before contemplated the appetite of the sky.

"What is this place?" He finally found his voice, but it splintered like the fragile microcosm glacier within a frozen winter pond. Yeonjun had called it a park earlier, but it was like any park he'd ever seen before. Still, Yeonjun must have been planning on coming here after his visit to the cafe. He must come regularly, if he had been the one to stash that bottle.

Yeonjun brushed the dust off one of the crumbling rocks. "This area used to be an old cemetery." His voice melted into the nothingness like mist. "It's abandoned now. I come here to write."

His thoughts about ghosts hadn't been so far off, then.

"Lyrics?"

He nodded, and sat on the blanket, back pressed up against what Soobin now knew was a decrepit headstone. "In summer, it's really warm and vibrant. I'll come here and write love songs. Sometimes Jiro will come along."

"It's not summer now," Soobin pointed out, joining him on the ground.

"Yeah." Yeonjun's gaze grew distant, searching for something out in the blackness of the trees. "If I'm here to write in the winter, it's because I need to be numb. And think about everything that withered away under my touch in the days since I last came."

Soobin wasn't sure how he should feel if Yeonjun's boyfriend was his summer companion to inspire his love songs, and Soobin was his winter companion to accompany the numbness in his chest.

"What songs does that inspire?"

That bitter half-smile crept onto Yeonjun's lips as he remarked plainly, "Usually the ones about being worthless and cold and as close to Hell as a warm body can be."

Soobin glanced up at the sky. "Is that what this feels like to you?"

He shrugged. "When I'm alone." Then, as he worked to unscrew the bottle cap, he added quietly, "It's not so bad with you." Then, he glanced up at Soobin and tilted his head. "What do you think?"

Looking around at the dead grass and faded headstones and the sea of ominous trees beyond, he replied honestly, "It's...transparent. Unpretentious. Somewhere an artist would find beauty. So...it makes sense that you like it here."

Still smiling, Yeonjun noted, "That's a nice way to say boring."

"I don't think it's boring. I just don't think most people would slow down enough to hear the silence and feel the sky."

Yeonjun looked at him for a moment with those grey eyes before holding out the bottle to him. Soobin wrinkled his nose.

"Still a no-go?"

"You know I don't drink."

"There's no one here to see or criticize you. It'll warm you up."

"Just because no one is around doesn't mean I can betray my morals."

"You're such a good Christian," Yeonjun remarked before taking a drink straight from the bottle, the label of which declared itself to be rum.

Soobin raised his eyebrows. "And you're a horrible Christian."

Licking the liquor from his lips, he simply replied, "That's between me and God."

"Yet you always want to make it my problem."

"Sick of me already?"

Soobin sighed. "I wish." Yeonjun chuckled quietly in response, and, still captivated by the sky, Soobin leaned back until he lay on the blanket, arms crossed behind his head; he stared up into the pale void above, bleeding into grey as the sun crept lower and lower into oblivion.

"It's kinda cool, huh?" Yeonjun set his bottle aside after another drink and lay down beside him. "Like watching the day die."

"What do you do when the sun sets?"

"Make my way out, or drink until I fall asleep. Gets pretty fucking cold, though."

"Maybe if you wore a coat..."

Rather than call him soft or lame, Yeonjun just said, "I'm bad at remembering stuff like that."

Soobin was quiet for a moment before saying, "I'll keep one in my bag for you."

"That's a nice thought," Yeonjun replied wistfully, rolling over onto his side to look at Soobin, head resting on his arms. "I've always wanted to be like that."

Curious, Soobin rolled over as well to look at him. "Like what?"

"Thoughtful. Practical. A problem solver. I think I'm too caught up in my own shit to be pragmatic."

Usually those kinds of people drove Soobin insane. He couldn't understand selfishness, not to that degree. Yeonjun himself used to drive Soobin insane. But he understood a little better now. The items filling their plates were not equal. Their demons didn't wear the same faces- Yeonjun's were scarier. His mother would've told him not to compare pain, but it gave rise to compassion. Because he could see the discrepancy, and understand the depth of Yeonjun's inner turmoil, he didn't blame him so much anymore for being self-absorbed. It wasn't some sort of ego trip; it was a fight for survival.

"I don't think that's a bad thing," Soobin eventually said, and clearly it wasn't the reply Yeonjun expected.

"No?"

A vulnerable little question.

"No," he confirmed, giving it another thought and coming to the same conclusion. "Sure, you're a narcissistic dick sometimes-"

"Gee, thanks-"

"-but, I don't think it's really possible to care genuinely about other people's problems until your own feel manageable. And I don't think yours do. So it's fine."

"That...is very Christian of you, Choi Soobin. Like, real Christian shit. Forgiveness and empathy. Thanks."

"If you called it 'real Christian shit,' in front of your mom, she'd faint."

The curse word slipped out far too seamlessly. It sent a bolt of cold through him, reminding him of happier times and bad influences.

Yeonjun smiled, and even laughed a little. "Yeah, she would. She'd forgive me, though, too."

"She would," Soobin agreed, and watched as Yeonjun's eyes grew more brown than grey as the cold gently departed, then felt fingers in his hair. Those, too, felt gentle. Yeonjun's touch was soft, gaze contemplative.

He let it happen. Without all his aggression and fire, Soobin didn't know how to handle him.

"What do you dream about, Soobin?"

"When I'm asleep or awake?"

"Awake." A breath of a word.

The question zoomed him out from the moment, from his own perspective and the world around him. He felt as though he were floating far away in space as he contemplated an answer, any answer really. But when he returned to his own body, he had nothing to say except for, "I'm not sure I've ever really had dreams."

"At all?"

Soobin shook his head and Yeonjun's fingers fell loose, hand now laying between them off the edge of the blanket, half on the damp grass. "I always thought they would come to me. I guess I started to notice in high school, when everyone around me knew what they wanted to do, and I didn't know at all. It felt like God never clued me into his greater plan for me. I was left wandering, kind of aimless, but things worked out. I had won a couple writing contests in high school, and that landed me a spot in university. Got my degree in media communications and interned at the place I work for now. I never really stopped to think about if I wanted something more. Let alone if I deserved it. Even now, I'm content. Why search for something greater? I have a job, and I don't hate it, and sometimes I think that's enough. We're not all dream-chasers."

Yeonjun searched his gaze as he spoke more than asked, "But you have little dreams."

"That's true," he agreed. "There are places I want to see, and people it would be cool to meet." With a wry smile, he added, "I guess I dream about working from home full-time."

"I think your dreams are more unique than mine." Yeonjun's eyes grew distant, a little grey seeping back in. "It feels like everyone wants to be a star."

"Your dream isn't what makes you unique," Soobin softly said. "It's your resilience. A lot of people can wish for something, but I have no doubt you can actually do it."

Yeonjun chuckled to himself. "You're way too nice sometimes, Soobin-ah. If you keep hanging out with me, it's gonna get you in trouble."

"Probably," he agreed. "But I think I already signed myself up for trouble."

"You know, I used to dream even bigger. I wanted so much more out of life. I wanted to feel loved back by the world that I saw so much beauty in. But...now, I think the world is a lot more like this." Yeonjun gestured vaguely to the sky above, lifting his gaze from Soobin for a moment back to the glassy grey overhead. "Beautiful, but cold and empty. The world is so lonely when you stop to see the vastness of it all."

"On a planet of billions and billions of people, sometimes I think it's our own fault that we feel lonely. Isolation is the easiest state of mind to get stuck in. People are everywhere and anywhere. So...why don't I have any friends? I used to ask myself that a lot," he said quietly, agreeing somewhat with Yeonjun's frame of mind.

"Did you ever find an answer?"

"A part of me must not want to leave that isolation. I feel safe there."

Yeonjun's eyes returned to him, washed out from the strange otherworldly light, ringed in eyeliner and muted shadows. Drawing Soobin in with just a look. That's always all it took. "You're so honest with yourself."

"Not always. But on the topic of loneliness, I think I'm an expert in self-reflection."

"I think I like it."

His heart stuttered. "Like what?" he outwardly course-corrected. He knew Yeonjun didn't mean him.

"That feeling of isolation. Where I get to sit with the emptiness and feel like I'm the only person on earth for just a moment, before all the noise and chaos comes crashing back in." Then, Yeonjun paused, brow furrowed. "Actually, I like the noise and chaos, too. It's the in-between state that I can't stand. The dull murmur between nothing and everything."

"Why do you think that is?"

He considered it for a while, maybe seeking his own sort of answer in the depths of Soobin's irises. "They're both numbing. The only place I can feel anything is in the middle between two extremes."

"And you don't want to."

Yeonjun gave a bitter little laugh. "No. I really don't."

"Are you ever going to tell me how you got here?"

"Oh, Soobin-ah." He sighed, then brushed Soobin's hair away from his eyes for him, sending tingles down the back of his neck. "It's a whole fucked up mess in here. Always has been."

"You were the most radiant person I'd ever known. Something changed."

"Or a whole lot of things just caught up to me," he said, shaking his head as if it were almost too simple. "I really wanted to be happy. Back then, I was better at acting like nothing got under my skin. But I don't have the energy to invest in that any more. I'm happy onstage, and that's enough for me."

"Yeah, but it seems like you're miserable the rest of the day. Is that trade-off so worth it?"

"Even if I gave up performing, then I'd just be miserable all the time. It wouldn't solve any of my problems, it would just take away the one thing I actually want to pour my soul into."

For some reason, his choice of words bothered Soobin, like a voice whispering in the back of his mind. "You shouldn't feel like you're giving up your soul to perform."

"Don't take it so seriously. I'm not giving up anything. It's a reciprocal relationship. I pour everything I have into performing- blood, sweat, tears, whatever you want to call it. And in return, I get the most rewarding energy and love a person could ever hope for. I can't imagine my life without it."

"I never knew you had such an intense relationship with music."

"It was an escape for me. Somewhere to explore the feelings I was too repressed to deal with externally. And I was terrified, too, of anyone in our community looking at me and my situation for too long. There was already so much scrutiny on me and my mom. I didn't want to cause her more trouble by being different, and I definitely didn't want to demand attention."

Soobin understood what he meant. Everything within their neighborhood was shared. The knew the ins and outs of each others' lives in detail since childhood. And a frequent favorite topic of hushed whispers had always been Yeonjun's family. If he were in his shoes, he would have kept his head down and his expression pleasant all his life, too.

"Are your parents divorced?"

"Not technically. My mom didn't want to have any contact with him after he left, and I don't think my dad ever initiated the paperwork. But he's in prison now, so I guess that doesn't really matter."

A part of Soobin wanted to ask more questions, but he felt he'd reached the line where, if Yeonjun wasn't choosing to volunteer the information, he shouldn't ask. If Yeonjun wanted him to know something, he never had an issue being the first person to say it.

Yeonjun didn't want him to know why his father had been arrested. And so all Soobin could think to say was, "You and your mom have always been there for each other, though."

That did the trick in bringing a small smile to Yeonjun's face. He was so devastatingly beautiful even when discussing a topic so macabre and personally painful to him. "Yeah. That's enough for me. I just wish I could share my world with her sometimes, even though I know it's not possible."

"You really think it's impossible?"

"Some things aren't meant to be shared." He sounded certain. "It would break apart her whole worldview. I just want to be happy in every memory she has of me, you know?"

"But that's not reality."

"Doesn't need to be. That's my reality when I'm with her."

"Do you ever think..." A question lingered on the tip of Soobin's tongue, but it might be too brazen and insensitive to form into words. Frustrated, he turned to look back up at the sky.

"You're not going to hurt my feelings," Yeonjun offered right away, as if he could read his mind once again.

Soobin took a breath, then asked, "Do you ever think you try to compensate for your father being gone by being perfect for your mom?"

"Yeah, I do." His answer didn't take any time to think about it at all. "It's funny that you thought that would hurt my feelings."

"But...don't you think that's not always fair to her? She doesn't know the real you at all."

"She knows the best version of me. Isn't that better in a way?"

Soobin tried to imagine a world where his mom only knew his best qualities and none of his flaws. At first, it sounded like an idyllic paradise, but the longer he thought about what his reality would look like, the more he knew it would rapidly grow lonely and stale. "I don't think my mom would let that happen. If there wasn't anything wrong with me, she'd just get suspicious that I was up to no good behind her back."

"Well, your mom is a lot more on the ball than mine. She's able to perceive the world beyond whatever is in her head. I don't know if it's the same."

"I guess...it really isn't. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Yeonjun nudged his shoulder with his own. "From your perspective, everything you said makes sense."

"I didn't realize our perspectives were so different."

"I don't mind. Those differences have always made you interesting to talk to."

They laid back on the grass together then, watching the sky. He felt he had dipped his toes into a gold mine for a minute, finally being let into Yeonjun's life and the secrets he had kept even throughout their entire friendship. He wondered what had changed to make him open to sharing now.

"I feel like...I didn't know you very well when we were kids."

"You didn't," Yeonjun agreed. "But you still knew me better than anyone else. Most of the other kids wouldn't even hang out with me. But you...were always willing to sit next to me. I mean, I know your mom put you up to it half the time because she felt bad for mine, but I really was grateful back then. I never expected you to keep being my friend when we got into high school, but you did."

"Why wouldn't I have?"

"I thought you would find people you got along with better, who were cooler and more stable than me. But...it's like the thought didn't even cross your mind."

"It didn't. I was shy. And I always thought you had lots of friends."

Yeonjun shook his head. "I was someone they would always say hi to but never invite to lunch, if that makes sense. A good enough acquaintance, I guess, but since I never wanted to open up, I couldn't build any lasting relationships."

Soobin reflected on his set of circumstances. "That was kind of my experience, too."

"Maybe that's why we got along well. For a while, at least."

Reminded of their falling out, Soobin sighed. "I never wanted you to think that I stopped liking you. I just didn't understand you anymore. So...I didn't know what to say."

"It wasn't something I ever held against you. Not to be all emo and lame, but people rarely seem to understand me. You turned out like them and I didn't. It made perfect sense to me."

Soobin frowned, tracing shapes in the clouds with his eyes. "You think I turned out like them?"

"I used to. Now I'm not so sure."

He sighed. "I don't want to be like them. But...sometimes, it feels easier." He hated the conformity and uniformity he had been subjected to all his life, but at the same time, he was so afraid of losing everything by separating from the crowd that it always made so much more sense to him to at least try and blend in.

"There's no point in forcing yourself to suffer," Yeonjun murmured with finality. "If I could manage it, I would try to be like them, too."

"I think you've outgrown the rest of us, honestly."

"No, my worldview is just as small and meaningless as ever. The only difference is that it's shifted. I really want to see the world, Soobin-ah. And I think...if I keep going down this path...I might actually be able to do it."

"I think you could, too. Just...don't forget to take care of yourself while you're trying to make your dreams come true."

Yeonjun turned back to look at him again, a little smile on his face. "How could I forget with you around?"

Soobin's breath hitched, and he made an effort to sound just as normal and nonchalant when he asked, "You want me to stick around, then?"

"If you're willing to keep me on the straight and narrow."

For the first time, Soobin reached for Yeonjun, tucking his curled black bangs behind his ear. His jewelry felt cold to the touch, and he was watching Soobin with bright eyes. "I think I could manage that."

"Weren't you just complaining about how monumental of a task it would be?"

"Yeah, I was. And it's still true."

"You'd undertake that for me?"

He sighed again, realizing just how quickly he had let himself be lured into an inescapable web. He would never be able to surrender what he had just been given. Even if it seemed insignificant to Yeonjun, it was a question that would weigh on Soobin forever. "Yeah," he finally answered. "I guess I would."

Yeonjun's smile grew and he sat up, hugging his bony knees to his chest. "You know, I've been so wrapped up in talking to you that I haven't even had a chance to drink."

"I must be doing something right, then." Soobin slowly followed him up, ruffling his hair to get out any stray leaves or blades of grass.

"You really don't want to come later?"

"As much as I think it would be fun, I'm so burnt out from this project."

And he still had so much left to do.

"Fine," Yeonjun said reluctantly. "Go get some rest, then."

"When do you sleep, anyway?"

He shrugged, helping Soobin to his feet and handing him his work bag. "Whenever I have time. My schedule is kind of fucked, though. Five to eleven usually."

"Five...in the morning?"

"Well, yeah. If we finish the show at midnight or one, I usually hang out with the guys for a couple hours after, make sure everyone gets home safe, then spend some time decompressing. The sun is usually rising by then."

"No wonder you're so pale," Soobin muttered, helping him gather his blanket, then watched him stow his liquor again. "You're like a vampire."

"Would you stake me in the heart if I turned?"

Shocked by the abrupt and depressing question, he answered, "No!"

"Really? Even if it would save me from eternal torment?"

"I- I don't know. I don't think I'd have it in me." The dilemma of killing Yeonjun in order to save his soul wasn't one he could just confront then and there.

Yeonjun laughed, rubbing his shoulder. "I didn't expect you to take it so seriously. I'm probably not turning into a vampire anytime soon."

"Why do you sound unsure?" They began their trek out of the woods, back towards civilization and the place where their two worlds diverged.

"You never know what could happen," he replied lightheartedly. "And based on everything you've said, no one would be able to tell the difference anyway." He hesitated, then posed, "What if I actually am a vampire and you just haven't figured it out yet?"

Soobin shot him a skeptical glance. "In your dreams, maybe."

"Yeah, it'd be too on the nose. And besides, I wear a cross. Definitely not a vampire."

"Where'd that necklace come from, anyway?"

"It's my mom's. My dad got it for her way back before they had me. She gave it to me a couple years ago."

"I'm surprised you would wear it."

"As much as I hate the guy, obviously I wish I had him in my life. I think any son would. This is the closest I'll get, though."

Soobin nodded- he understood. Even though his father wasn't half as absent as Yeonjun's, he still yearned for some sort of connection with him as well. So he knew that feeling had to be twofold for him.

When they emerged from the trees, it was as if God hit the play button on the universe, plunging them back into sound and simulation. Cars passed on the street, bells rang announcing bikers as they went by, and the wind rustled the leaves of the ghost realm they left behind.

He felt like they had climbed out a portal returning to the heart of Seoul.

"I'm gonna take off," Yeonjun said, gesturing behind him back towards what Soobin could only assume was his destination. "Thanks for hanging out with me." Before Soobin had the chance to say it was no problem, Yeonjun placed a light hand on his shoulder, leaning in and whispering only loud enough to be heard over the city stimulation, "Let's do it again sometime."

A tremble wracked his body and he did his best not to let it show on his face. "Sure," he agreed faintly, and Yeonjun withdrew, taking his warmth and the scent of his perfume with him.

"Get home safe, Soobin-ah."

"I will," he promised, unable to do anything other than agree with Yeonjun when he spoke like that, kind and soft and concerned about his well-being.

Yeonjun signalled that he was off, then, and turned the other way to start walking down the street in the opposite direction. Soobin had no idea what he was headed towards, but he knew his ultimate destination, and he hoped he reached it without a hitch.

Unsure of anything besides his own routine, he began walking the other way, intent on catching the same bus that he always took in and out of work.

The wind seemed to follow him, blowing past his back, carrying the spirits from the old cemetery that refused to be left behind. He felt their weight on his shoulders, the increasing heaviness that dipping his toes in Yeonjun's darkness placed upon him. He knew that the deeper he sank, the more impossible it would be to escape. But at the same time, he felt more liberated than he had in years, closer to finding himself than ever. And if Yeonjun offered to guide him and hold his arm in the process like he had earlier, Soobin thought it might be possible to even find...clarity. Maybe he could pry peace of mind from Yeonjun's chaos- they seemed to balance one another out, in a way.

So, he didn't block his number. Instead, he added it back into his contact list, and wondered if he would get the chance to use it again soon.

Chapter Text

Autumn bit into his skin with the first teeth of frostbite, already primed for winter. Soobin drew his scarf tighter around his throat as he hustled home from church, having gone late again to clear his head. It helped a little bit, dispelling the demons threatening to crawl in between his defenses.

As soon as he let himself into the restaurant, he found the lights were still on and Kai stood behind the counter. "Hey," he greeted him, punching something into a calculator.

"Hey," Soobin replied, glancing at the clock thinking he had the time wrong. No, it was nearly ten in the evening. "What are you still doing here?"

"Your sister called in sick." Soobin made a mental note to text her and check in later.

"You didn't have to work a double, you could have called me."

Kai shrugged. "It's cool, I didn't have any plans tonight, and I don't mind the extra hours."

Soobin craned his neck, trying to peer back into the kitchen. "Is my mom here?"

"She ran out to bring your sister food as soon as we closed." Then, he glanced up at Soobin. "What were you out doing?"

"I just stopped by the church for evening mass." He shifted uncomfortably, afraid Kai could see through him even when he was technically telling the truth.

"You've been doing that more lately," he observed.

"I'm trying to be a better person."

Kai gave him a skeptical look but didn't push it. "Are you coming to our show this weekend?"

Soobin blinked- this was the first he was hearing of it. "Wasn't planning on it. Why?"

"Taehyunnie wants an interview." The closer he looked at Kai, the more he noticed something different. He just couldn't place his finger on it.

He thought back to the shorter, more muscular member of their band with the big eyes and cold attitude. "Really?" He had already written half the article.

"Only if it's not a hassle. He was just worried, um, that Yeonjun-hyung and Beomgyu-hyung were rude and wanted to give us a good rep."

"They weren't rude..." Soobin said, though his words trailed off as he remembered the two interviews he had done so far. "They were both just...difficult. For different reasons."

Yeonjun had to make everything a game, and had been intent on toying with him that night. And Beomgyu grew bored very quickly, and started trying to interview Soobin instead.

"See, I can see in your eyes, though, that both of them irritated you," he said with a sheepish laugh.

"I'll interview Taehyun," he decided. "If you can get me tickets. My boss is going to start wondering why I keep charging his card to see you."

"We both know it's not me you keep coming to see."

Soobin glared at him. "Shut up."

Kai barked out a laugh, looking genuinely delighted. "Wow, I didn't know it would get under your skin that much. I was kidding, but now I know it's true."

Soobin's scowl just deepened, and he turned to look out over the restaurant instead of at Kai's gloating face. "Anyway, can you get me in?"

"Yeah." He was still giggling to himself. "No problem. I'll have our manager text you an entry pass. Oh, it's at a concert hall, too. A little bigger than the last show you were at."

Soobin tried to cool his anger, saying, "Congrats. That's got to feel nice."

"Totally. We're even talking about touring. I don't know if it's actually possible, but I'm still excited."

He gave him a little smile. "That's really cool, Kai-yah." Finally, he realized what was different. Without thinking, he reached up and grabbed Kai's ear, where a red gem sat nestled near the top.

"Ow!" Kai batted his hand away. "What the heck?"

"Sorry!" It dawned on him that it might hurt to have a fresh piercing grabbed. "I just noticed it. When did you do that?"

Looking slightly guilty, Kai mumbled, "Yeonjun-hyung did it."

"Like, he took you to get it done?"

"Uh...sure."

Soobin frowned, putting two and two together. "I'm sorry, you're telling me he pierced your ear?"

"Ears," Kai corrected, turning his head to point at his other ear, where a matching stud peeked out.

"Is he a professional piercer?"

"Well, not exactly, but he's done it plenty of times. He just doesn't have certification."

Soobin massaged his temple, restraining himself from lecturing. "Okay. If it gets infected, please tell me. I'll take you to the hospital."

"I don't think that's going to happen, but I'll let you know," he solemnly promised. Then, he pressed a few more buttons on his calculator, jotted down a couple notes, and looked around the room. "I think I'm set to go. Mind just doing a last sweep in case I missed anything?"

"Sure." He swung his legs off the counter seat and gave the restaurant a once-over. He put away a handful of loose items he knew his mother would comment on, and made sure everything was sealed and properly stored in the back. "Looks good," he said, pushing back through the kitchen doors. "Are you sure you're okay to bike home, though?"

Kai waved his phone. "Beomgyu-hyung's coming to get me. He can fit my bike in his van."

"Alright," Soobin said reluctantly. "I'll wait with you out front."

Kai just gave him a look. "I'm not a kid, hyung. I'll be fine."

"It's not because I think you're a kid. I just want to keep you company."

"Aw, what a good friend."

Soobin trailed after him towards the door, and as soon as he pushed it open, a gust of cold wind rushed in, stealing the air from his lungs for a moment. Inhaling shallowly, he held the door for Kai, then let the wind rip it from his hand, slamming shut. Even Kai was frantically trying to fix his hair, shielding his eyes from the strong gale.

"Woah," Kai finally said when it died down a little. "What happened to summer, huh?"

"It completely vanished," Soobin agreed. "I don't know why we're skipping straight to winter."

"Seriously." Kai leaned against the building, arms crossed. "I can't remember it ever being this cold in September."

"Maybe we've been cursed," Soobin joked, joining him up against the building for some protection from the wind.

Kai frowned and just rubbed his shoulders. After a few seconds, he pointed down the street towards an oncoming car. "That's him." As soon as he saw Beomgyu coming, he moved to unchain his bike, and Soobin waved awkwardly at Beomgyu pulling up alongside the curb. His van was sleek and grey, the back covered in sticker decals of band names and cute characters.

"Hey!" Beomgyu had rolled his window down and stuck his head out, shouting at both of them. They hustled over in tandem. "What are you guys doing? I thought you were working."

Kai pointed at Soobin with his thumb. "I work at his family's restaurant."

"This whole time?"

"Yup."

Beomgyu sized Soobin up. "It's weird how you're like two-degrees separated from my life."

"Two?"

"One for Yeonjun-hyung and one for Kai."

"Fair enough." Then, he glanced over at Kai and his bike. "Do you need help getting that in the trunk?"

"Nah, I've got it. Thanks, hyung." He clapped him on the back and said cheerfully, "See you this Friday."

"See you," Soobin said, giving Beomgyu one last wave before heading back up onto the sidewalk and inside.

Once alone, he took a deep breath and looked around the restaurant. He should wait for his mom to get back before heading to bed, but at least he could shut everything down in here and wait upstairs.

He received the tickets a few days later- his phone just buzzed with a message from an unknown number containing a QR code and the text: VIP Entry- From Huening Kai.

It was way too mysterious and professional for his liking. At this point, Soobin was starting to think the band undersold their popularity and promotion power in order to keep playing the same venues they liked. Maybe he could ask Yeonjun about it if he ever felt comfortable enough to pry. Doing so came at the risk of him shutting Soobin out completely, though.

However, while Yeonjun still avoided him at church that Sunday and didn’t reach out to him all week, Soobin stopped feeling the same waves of animosity rolling off of him whenever they were in each other’s presence. His aura remained gloomy, a shadow in a crisp white-collared shirt before the altar, but Soobin felt less like a personal victim of his darkness than before. Rather, he almost felt included.

And that Friday, two hours before the show was slated to start, Yeonjun texted him.

It was eight, Soobin had already grabbed a quick dinner from downstairs and wrapped up his writing for the evening. He sat at his computer, playing a few rounds of League in an attempt to cool his mind and kill time.

You want to come early?

The message popped up on his screen between matches, and Soobin frowned, picking his phone up.

Why?

What would be the point in showing up before the band?

I just got here and I’m bored. There’s nothing left to set up

Go take a walk

And invite a million people to blow up my phone freaking out over where I went? No thanks

I’m really comfortable. Get Kai to hang out with you

Kai’s playing Cookie Run on the couch and pretending I don’t exist

Soobin smiled to himself.

I raised him right

I’m sorry but I think I can take credit for raising him

No way I knew him long before you did

Yeah but he gets all his good qualities from me

Apparently he got a piercing from you

Two piercings

And are you certified to do that?

Are you the piercing police now?

Soobin pursed his lips, then relinquished control.

No, it’s not a big deal. I’m just teasing

So are you on your way or what

He glanced up at his computer screen only to realize he’d been kicked out to the lobby for idling. Apparently he would rather talk to Yeonjun than play League, at least that’s what the past five minutes cleared up for him.

Tragic, honestly.

I guess I’m coming

No need to sound so disappointed. I’ll make it worth your while

Please don’t. I’ll be there in ten

xoxo

At least this place was actually in walking distance, Soobin thought to himself once he got downstairs and slipped his shoes on. He knew the venue they were playing- it was an old school a few blocks from their neighborhood that had been converted into an event space years ago. Some people they knew held weddings and graduation parties there. Apparently it was a concert venue now, too.

For once, he didn’t feel so out of place as he approached the door. A lot of the same crowd were present, but the building itself was large and open, entryway lit up by fluorescent overheads. Security had even been set up by the door, and people were being instructed to empty their pockets and send their bags through a scanner before entering.

What surprised him even more was how many people were already lined up to be let in. He thought Yeonjun had asked him to come way ahead of schedule, but it looked like they were open and scanning tickets. Maybe they all held VIP passes. Or they all just wanted to get inside and start drinking. Unsure of what else to do, he joined the queue. A security officer passed over his body with a wand, and when the event manager up front scanned his ticket, she pointed behind her and said, “The artist is waiting backstage. I’ll send someone to escort you over there.” Then, she motioned one of the security officers over and explained, “This is the one they mentioned. Mind taking him back?”

“Sure,” he said, and waved at Soobin to follow him. He didn’t make idle chit-chat, didn’t even tell Soobin why he was being escorted. He just took him through the wide doors and into the concert space. It was still set up for a wedding reception, but he realized that must be the permanent decor. Small tables dotted the wide ballroom floor, covered in red cloths and flickering candlelight. A grand crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and genuine red theater curtains hung over the large stage. Two bars had been set up lining the left and right walls near the back, and people were already milling around and grabbing drinks. But security marched him straight past all of this to an unmarked side door that led backstage. They went around a curving hallway until they reached a door with their band name taped on it, and the man who had taken him there knocked twice.

The door opened and Yeonjun appeared, wearing a cropped red and black mesh sweater and faded low-rise jeans. He smiled sweetly at the security officers who had brought him, saying, “Thanks,” before tugging Soobin into the room.

Sure enough there was a large counter and mirror combo against one wall, and Kai lay sprawled out on the couch against the other, glued to his phone. The sight was starting to become familiar

He signaled to Soobin to acknowledge his existence but said nothing, whereas Yeonjun remarked, “Took you long enough.”

“The line outside was crazy. I thought you guys weren’t on until ten?”

“We’re not, but you can order food and stuff here if you arrive early. It’s a more intimate setting, so people probably wanted to grab tables and not have to fight over them later. I’ve got a spot reserved for you, don’t worry.”

“I think I reserved that spot, actually,” Kai grumbled from the couch.

Soobin clasped his hands together in gratitude. “Thank you.”

Yeonjun took the opposite couch and lifted his glass to his lips, patting the spot beside him.

An obedient little dog, Soobin sat, and found some sort of blue drink with an umbrella sticking out of it was already on the table. “What’s this?” he asked, holding it up curiously.

“A mocktail. It’s supposed to be like a punch or something. I don’t know, it was fruity and blue.”

“And that…reminds you of me?”

“Yep.”

Soobin just gave him a look, but took the straw between his lips. It wasn’t as horribly sweet as he had been braced for, and mostly tasted like a blue-raspberry iced tea. “It’s not the worst thing.”

“You should have seen Yeonjun-hyung,” Kai commented, still fixated on his phone. “Walked straight up to the bartender and asked what their most popular non-alcoholic drink was. Didn’t care that everyone in the venue was screaming at him, he was dead-set on getting your drink himself.”

“Shut up,” Yeonjun said swiftly, earning a snicker from Kai.

Soobin raised his eyebrows and asked, “Is that true?”

“He’s exaggerating. I just wanted to make sure the bartender didn’t accidentally give you booze.”

Soobin swirled his straw around, the clinking of ice against the glass louder than anything else in the room. “That’s nice of you.”

“Great, now I have to go punch someone.”

He laughed. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I can’t have you ruining my image, dude.”

“Your image never existed,” Kai informed him, tapping rapidly against his screen. “Everyone knows you’re a cutie. There’s a reason our fans always give you plushies.”

Yeonjun groaned and rubbed his face, as if the very accusation were enough to ruin years of building his reputation. “No one thinks I’m a badass. It sucks.”

“Are you trying to be?” Soobin asked.

“I mean…sort of. You know, we make hard music and talk about dark stuff.”

“Yeah, but you’re…” he trailed off, not wanting to show his hand, especially not in front of Kai.

“I’m what?” Yeonjun still pressed, pulling his legs up on the couch so he could look at him.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t already said it before. “Pretty.”

“Plenty of pretty people are badasses.”

“Yeah, but you’re a pushover on top of that. You talk a big game, but you’d never intentionally try to hurt someone’s feelings. Unless you thought they earned it,” Kai remarked.

He always used to wonder if Yeonjun thought he had earned it.

Yeonjun just narrowed his eyes, saying, “Stop psychoanalyzing me. I don’t like it.”

“You asked for it,” Kai pointed out, taking the words right out of his mouth.

“I wanted to be perceived but not like that.”

Soobin took another sip of his drink. “How would you like to be perceived, then?”

Yeonjun frowned. “Nicely.”

“We were complimenting you.”

“You were complimenting me,” he agreed. “Kai’s just been a shit.”

Kai made a peace sign, content to acknowledge his role in Yeonjun’s crash-out. Finally, he clicked his phone off and sat up properly, stretching his arms and yawning. “I think I’m gonna go bother Taehyun and Beomgyu-hyung now.”

“Bored of us already?”

“Yup. Besides, they’ve had peace for too long. I can feel it.”

Yeonjun laughed and took a drink of his whiskey. “Alright, go ruin their evening. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Once he was gone, Soobin had to ask, “Seriously, why’d you make me come so early? I could at least be interviewing Taehyun right now.”

“Taehyun spent the last hour fucking his boyfriend. I don’t think he wanted your nose in his business.”

“Wow, graphic, but okay.”

“And I made you come early because Kai was being like that,” he said, gesturing vaguely to where his bandmate had been sulking and playing video games on the couch. “Which meant I was basically all alone.”

“Yeah, what was up with him?”

“He’s just tired. His parents have him working at the laundromat again, he’s going to class, he’s working for your mom, and he’s playing with us. I don’t know how he has the energy to get up in the morning, honestly.”

“I keep telling him he needs to cut something out.”

Yeonjun shook his head. “He’s never going to listen to you. He’s too stubborn.”

“Yeah, unfortunately I’ve noticed that about him.”

Circling the rim of his glass, Yeonjun mused, “You know, it’s kind of weird. Us having a mutual friend.”

While it shouldn’t have been such a big deal, Soobin felt the same way. It had been a long time since the two of them had something in common to talk about. “I know. Maybe he’s our guardian angel,” Soobin joked.

“We’re screwed, then.”

“It’s like a light novel in the making- My Guardian Angel is Actually a Teenage Rockstar? Thankfully, Kai’s not a teenager, anymore. He couldn’t get cast in the live-action version.”

“It scares me how quick you were to think of that.”

“I read a lot.”

“I know. It’s the idea of what you’re reading that worries me.”

Soobin refused to be ashamed of his interests just because they weren’t sexy to Yeonjun. “What have you read recently?”

Yeonjun hesitated, then muttered, “Touché.” He swirled his drink around for a moment, then looked at Soobin over his knees. “Do you still like romance?”

What a small nugget to unearth from the years they spent together talking about meaningless things. “Yeah. I’ve always been more into drama than action, and I like watching the characters in a story fall in love. I don’t like when romance is the main focus, though. I think a story is better when there are other things going on, too. In order to inspire characters to feel, you need some sort of plot that drives them. At least, that’s how I’ve always felt about it. I’ll drop a novel if the only reason it exists is to satisfy the reader’s personal romantic fantasy.”

“Hm, you don’t find anything satisfying about just taking a glimpse into their lives and enjoying the mundaneness of watching it all pass by?”

He thought about it. “I do like stories like that sometimes. But I also don’t mind if there’s like an impending end-of-the-world event or something to spice it up.”

“That sounds like a tragedy.”

“Tragedies can be interesting, too. But I have to take them in small doses. I don’t really enjoy feeling sad.”

Yeonjun hugged his knees, leaning forward with his glass still in his hand. “I do. It helps me cherish the times when I’m actually happy.”

“And how often is that lately?”

“Not often enough,” Yeonjun replied bitterly, though he wore a small smile, taking it in stride.

“What would make you happier?”

“Well isn’t that the fucking question,” he lamented. “I wish I knew.”

“Yeonjun, I-“

“Are you ever going to start calling me hyung again?”

Soobin paused, then sighed, starting over. “Hyung, I’m worried that all this might not be good for you.”

Yeonjun shook his head, quick to say, “This is great for me. I would have killed myself already if I didn’t at least have performing to look forward to.”

“That’s horrible!” Soobin immediately replied, setting his glass down and taking Yeonjun’s away as well. He took his hands in concern, not even thinking of their skin touching for once, just wanting to ground him away from thoughts like that.

Yeonjun’s eyes went wide -obviously not expecting Soobin to care so much about his comment- and said, “I was exaggerating, Bin-ah, I’m fine. I’m not going to kill myself. I’m just saying that if I didn’t have this, I would be far more depressed than I already am. I know it must look like correlation equaling causation to you, but we weren’t friends in the time before I started doing music seriously and after my life began to spiral. I promise it was way worse then."

Soobin nodded but still felt unsettled, unconsciously squeezing his hands. "Please don't joke about something like this."

"Why? Because it's a sin?" Yeonjun seemed to be expecting that answer, defiance bright in his eyes.

"No. Because it scares me."

"Oh." He blinked, and the fire cleared, replaced swiftly by confusion. "Soobin, are we..." Yeonjun didn't finish his sentence- instead, he just sighed, then threw back the rest of his whiskey. Right on time, Choi Beomgyu opened the door, and the two of them sprung apart at the sound.

Soobin could immediately see the suspicion in his eyes. "What were you doing?" he asked.

"Soobinnie here was trying to tell me not to kill myself." His answer shocked him- why would he be honest about that?

But Beomgyu looked unfazed, and just said, "He's right. We can't afford that right now. Maybe after we tour."

Enjoying his melancholy humor, Yeonjun laughed, swinging his legs off the couch. "Okay, I'll wait a little while."

"We're on in ten. Finish up."

"Yes, sir," Yeonjun replied with what could have been sarcasm or genuine concession. His tone was always hard to read. Unless he was angry. Beomgyu chose to linger, waiting for Yeonjun when he turned to Soobin and asked, "Do you still want to watch the show? You can just hang out back here if you'd prefer."

The question held more weight than he probably thought. Of course, Soobin desperately wanted to watch him perform again. He would want to until the end of time. But he didn't like the way he felt afterwards. Captive and riled up, willing to do absolutely anything Yeonjun wanted just for a scrap of his attention and maybe even the smallest promise of touch.

It was so confusing, to be utterly desperate for him but to hold off and torture himself whenever the opportunity to even say something nice to him came along. He knew he wanted Yeonjun's attention. But he didn't want it to feel dark and dirty, and he wanted to be in control. And given Yeonjun's lifestyle and personality, those qualifications were unattainable. And so he would continue to suffer.

Soobin glanced around the room, then said, "You mentioned something about a table."

"Yeah, I can take you there if you want."

He nodded, and they both stood. Beomgyu followed them out the door, shutting it behind them, and the three of them headed back out and down the hall.

Once they re-entered the ballroom, they stuck close to the wall, blending in with the shadows until they reached the front of the room where a few areas had been cordoned off with ropes. A table sat empty there, in perfect central view of the stage and the show to come. As if Yeonjun had thought it all out. "Yeah, I want to watch," his mouth decided for him.

"Good answer," Beomgyu replied for Yeonjun, offering him a hand to guide him back to the artists' lounge. Yeonjun took it, leaving Soobin to stand beside him. The two were quite a sight side-by-side. Both pretty in a cruel way, with their long dark hair and layers of metal jewelry. Beomgyu had a slightly cleaner look to him, less edges than Yeonjun, and he wore baggier clothes whereas Yeonjun always wore something tight-fitted or nothing at all, giving them distinct silhouettes that would no doubt hypnotize on stage.

"See you later, then," Yeonjun murmured, words carrying like music to Soobin's ears. A siren song. "Promise to watch closely. We're debuting some new stuff."

"Promise," he breathed, such a good little captive.

Beomgyu tugged him forward, and the pair headed for the unmarked black door again. On the stage, Soobin could see their instruments being dragged out and arranged, stage hands working quickly in the darkness, barely audibly over the constant tide of noise that swept through the club.

With the pair of them gone, Soobin took his first deep breath of the night and tried to get comfortable even though he still felt his nerves tingling. He shouldn't let himself reflect on what just happened. Yeonjun was toying with him- that's all there was to it.

Still, the little voice in the back of his mind wouldn't let him forget. What was he going to say?

He took a second deep breath. If ever there was a time to play it cool, it was now. He could survive under pressure. And this felt like a life-or-death trial. If he passed, he could allow himself to think beyond a moment ahead in the time he had to tread water. For now, he needed to focus on keeping his head above the tide.

He could still taste Yeonjun's perfume from when he had leaned in close.

Frustrated, Soobin pinched himself, and that helped to ground him a little. At the same time, the house lights began to dim.

The band opened with Beomgyu strumming a few acoustic chords, a simple progression. Yeonjun's voice broke over the music in the darkness, rippling with a raw quality that made the entire room fall silent. His lyrics were vivid, painting a picture of a long life lived in such a short time, before the chords began to pick up intensity and Kai kicked in on the keyboard for just a few seconds. Then they transitioned seamlessly into a smooth, minor-key rock flow, Kai back on the drums without pause. Lights flared to life, white pools among all the shadows. And even though Yeonjun stood there in the same clothes Soobin had seen in him only ten minutes before, he looked even more gorgeous on stage, highlighted like an angel descended. His vocals retained a calm, smooth quality until they hit the chorus and he let that raw texture back in for a short desperate scream-effect.

Soobin tried to relax as the show went on. Tons of fans crowded around the front of the stage, reaching up with their hands whenever Yeonjun even came close. Sometimes he would indulge them with brief brushes of the fingers, though most of his energy was spent running back and forth across the stage, standing on speakers, and dancing around his bandmates.

He realized, during that third show, that something specific set Yeonjun apart. He'd sat through a lot of similar acts over the past few weeks, but no one entranced the entire venue quite the same way. And there were plenty of good looking performers. Good talkers, too, that kept the energy going all night. Yeonjun was both of these things, but his performances never got dull.

And it was such a subtle thing, but watching him tonight, Soobin pinpointed exactly what it could be that captivated him so: Yeonjun was a good dancer.

He didn't have to be. His band's type of music didn't require it. In fact, it was rare to see any of the lead singers of those groups do anything besides sing, stand, and run around a few times, jamming out with their bandmates.

But Yeonjun moved like liquid and knives. One second, he would be standing center stage, and the next he vanished before rematerializing beside Taehyun, spinning around him and then hitting a picture-perfect pose, sharp and jagged, always in time with the music. He never walked. Instead, every movement was a slide, or a glide, something fluid that could turn into glass edges in an instant. His fingers were like fans, folding beautifully over the microphone or opening up to the audience, drawing the eye with every flourish. And when they snapped shut, Soobin could feel it in his chest, like a sudden harsh denial.

Maybe an hour into the set, an instrumental break came. Soobin could just make out Yeonjun's shadow as he jogged backstage, giving his bandmates a shot at the spotlight. First Taehyun ran a solo, then Kai, and finally Beomgyu, hyping the crowd up before going into an unfamiliar beat. It opened with a few uncanny sounds from Kai's synths, and wavering chords from Beomgyu while Taehyun's bass maintained a solid dark rhythm. Yeonjun reappeared on stage, this time in a different outfit. And his vocals were so mesmerizing, once again painting a vivid scene of darkness and addiction, but in a playful way, that they reached the chorus before Soobin fully took him in.

He wore a black cropped blazer, a thick strap of leather belted around his neck and wrapped around his chest. Neither were terribly surprising, at least by Yeonjun's standards. What had Soobin staring were his sheer black tights, disappearing into a knee-length slitted black skirt, and strappy heels.

The ensemble went with the song. It was about raising a middle finger to the norms of society and acknowledging one's flaws, but it didn't sound so generic the way Yeonjun formed the picture. It was raw, and edgy, and altogether far too honest with himself, and Soobin once again found himself enamoured with the darkness that brought so much character to Yeonjun's lyrics. Without that aspect, they wouldn't seem nearly as alive and breathing. Even in those heels, he ran back and forth across the stage, at one point getting on his knees to touch the hands of the audience and wave as they sang along. When he pulled back from them, he still sat on his knees, looking towards the sky with a blissfully defiant expression as he finished out the song.

The crowd erupted into cheers and yells. In true Seoul fashion, a girl with heavy goth makeup and glitter streaks in her hair pushed a bunny-ear headband up towards the stage, baiting chance.

Serendipitously, Yeonjun glanced down and saw them, cracking a smile. He took the headband from her hands and put it on before getting to his feet and shouting, "Let's fucking go!" as the drums crashed into another, much harder song.

It was a wondrous sight, Yeonjun onstage with his high heels and bunny ears, half-singing, half-screaming about Hell, and death, and the fire he prayed to one day consume him alongside everything he hated.

Honestly, it was a shocking bit of irony, but it made his performance all the more engaging.

And his costume made Soobin all the more disoriented.

It didn't help that Yeonjun wrote plenty of songs about sex, which he always saved for the later half of his set. Once a few more songs concluded, the stage lights turned low and red, and Kai turned to play a series of dark keys on the board next to his drum set before Taehyun began strumming a heavy and relentless beat on the bass. Yeonjun whispered into the microphone, vocal fry making every word sound as if they were meant only for his most intimate and torturous lover. Until the chorus hit, and suddenly his vocals were dark, frayed, and painful, holding back the very twisted desire he sang for. When the chorus finished, he exhaled shakily, fingers falling down the microphone stand before his body followed. And there he sat, one leg tucked under the other, skirt pooling over his knees, glimmering gaze searching the audience, and tenderly holding the stand as he just as intimately sang the next verse.

He was stupidly good at performing. Genuinely, to the point of absurdity. Soobin had no idea how he sat behind a desk with a pencil and paper for so long, thinking that was his fate. A divine plan couldn't have been more obvious.

Even as he launched back into the heavy, desperate chorus, he retained his alluring aura, injecting sex into every word. When Taehyun strummed the last chords, he rested his head against the hand he had braced on the microphone stand, shutting his eyes for just a moment. In the dim red light, Soobin could see his dark lashes flutter, and the quick rise and fall of his chest.

Soobin had to step outside, ducking out the back door and thanking the cold air as it nipped the fever from his cheeks. Cigarette butts littered the ground at his feet, and he made a futile attempt at kicking them away. It smelled like smoke, autumn frost, and old booze, probably from the piles of bottles overflowing from the trash bins. Still, he breathed in, trying to calm his heart rate. He knew Yeonjun would seek him out after the show, gauge how much he turned him on, and taunt him with it until Soobin either broke or fled. He couldn't let him catch him like this.

A while later, the door opened, and Soobin braced himself for the awkwardness of running into a stranger or the torment sure to ensue if Yeonjun found him.

Instead, Kang Taehyun stepped out, pack of cigarettes in hand. He saw Soobin immediately, raised a hand in greeting while the other flicked his pack open. Cigarette between his lips, he only took one try to light it despite the wind, and they stood there quietly for a few moments. Soobin wasn't sure whether he should excuse himself- technically it was a public-access door, but it was weird to stand there alongside him in silence.

Then again, his whole excuse for being there that night was to interview the man in front of him. So, he waited for Taehyun to get halfway through his cigarette and calm his nerves. The bassist was leaning against the brick exterior of the building, not paying Soobin any attention, instead looking up at the sky.

"Yeonjun saw you leave," Taehyun eventually remarked, smoke exhaling from between his lips.

"I wasn't trying to sneak out."

"He knows that. He just thought it was funny."

"Why?"

Taehyun shrugged. "Not my business. We haven't really talked." Holding the dying end of his cigarette in one hand, he extended the other to Soobin, and he shook it. After that, he took one more drag before flicking it away and stamping out the embers under the pointed toe of his black boot. "You're that journalist, Choi Soobin, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I was actually hoping to interview you tonight if you had a few minutes to spare. I don't know if Yeonjun or Kai said anything..."

"They mentioned it. It's cool with me. Might be better if we head back inside, though. Beomgyu'll wonder where I went."

"Sure." Soobin held the door open for him and tried to make small talk as they headed back into the raucous chaos of the nightclub. "How long have you been together?"

"The band?"

"You and Beomgyu."

"Oh." For some reason, his big eyes betrayed surprise, like he never expected Soobin to ask a question about himself beyond his contribution to the group. "Four years. We went to high school together."

"I was super intimidated the first time I saw you guys backstage, when I was interviewing Yeonjun," Soobin admitted with a chuckle. "You're a really good-looking couple."

"Beomgyu's gorgeous," Taehyun agreed with a nod, not shy at all about complimenting his boyfriend but noticeably excluding himself. "I'm not surprised. He usually gets that kind of reaction. He'll still be happy to hear it."

Once they got past the crowd and back towards the bar, Soobin realized there were already people sitting in the booth he'd been in earlier.

Three very distinct people. The venue's security detail flanked both edges which had been cordoned off, actually doing their jobs for once, keeping the desperate crowd at arm's length. At least people had started drifting away, realizing the band wanted to drink and not indulge them anymore. And Soobin figured that was their right. They had already done pictures and signed posters. They deserved a few minutes to relax.

Yeonjun and Beomgyu were rolling a balled up receipt back and forth, playing some version of finger football, while Kai egged them on, cheering whenever someone scored a goal.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" he heard Yeonjun whine at Kai as he rejoiced when Beomgyu scored another point over him.

"Victory's side!" he answered happily. "But it'll be funnier if you both manage to lose."

"It's physically not possible for both of us to lose," Beomgyu pointed out, then immediately groaned when Yeonjun got the ball into the 'goal' on his side.

"What's the score right now?" Kai asked.

"Six-six," Yeonjun replied.

In an instant, Kai slammed his hand down, effectively stealing the ball and shoving it in his pocket. "Looks like you both lose," he said smugly.

"Or we both win," Yeonjun said, even as he tried to fish the receipt out of Kai's pocket. But Kai was like an unmovable stone statue, completely immune to Yeonjun's prodding and tickling.

"No," Beomgyu complained. "I'm not conceding defeat to you."

"It's not defeat." Yeonjun had climbed on top of Kai and was practically shaking him. "We both win. Which means you win. And I also win."

Beomgyu rolled his eyes. "That's lame."

"Ugh, fine," Yeonjun collapsed back in his seat, clearly spent. The entire time, Kai had an impish little grin on his face, pleased with his successful attempt to irritate them both. Soobin was beginning to see that brought him more joy in their group dynamic than anything else. "We both lose. That sucks."

"You're both idiots," Taehyun remarked, joining in the conversation and sliding into the booth beside his boyfriend. As he did so, he pulled out another wadded-up wrapper from his own pocket and effortlessly flicked it into the goal on Yeonjun's side. "There. Seven-six, now. Beomgyu wins."

"That's cheating," Yeonjun protested, swatting it back at him.

"No, it's not. We're on the same team."

"I don't think that was part of the established ruleset," Soobin mindlessly chimed in, sliding in beside Kai. Maybe he was too comfortable considering he was friends with only half of the group present, but no one even batted an eye.

"Soobin-hyung's got a point," Kai agreed, now more than happy to play the Devil's advocate. "If those were the rules before, then I would have played."

"Oh, yeah?" Beomgyu challenged. "And whose side would you have been on?"

"Well," Kai tapped his chin, pretending to ponder it. "I guess Yeonjun-hyung's since he's losing, and clearly needs my help the most."

"You little brat!" Yeonjun hissed, playfully wrapping his arms around Kai and pretending to throttle him. "I do not need your help!"

"He might win if it's three against two," Soobin added in agreement, turning Yeonjun's wrath on himself.

"The two of you combined are a greater liability than me by myself." A devastating statement from Yeonjun, but not technically untrue. Neither him nor Kai were exceptionally well known for their athletic prowess or coordination. "Anyway, hate to kill the fun but Soobinnie is here to work, so..."

"Oh, are you finally doing your interview tonight?" Beomgyu turned to ask Taehyun.

"Seems like it."

"It's really cool of you," Kai placed a hand on Soobin's shoulder to inform him. "I don't know if anyone has said it yet, but we're grateful that you're taking the time do such an in-depth piece. Your company is really reputable, and I know it'll be great for the band. The stuff you've been putting out recently is awesome."

"It's no problem." Soobin felt himself blush under the flattery- it wasn't that serious. "It's work for me, after all. I'm getting paid to hang out and see live music. If anything, I should be grateful to all of you for taking the time to talk with me."

"Okay, enough sappy stuff," Beomgyu said, snapping his fingers. "Kai and I will go get the next round of drinks. What do you drink, Soobin?"

"Just tonic water."

"Nothing in it?"

"Nope."

He shrugged. "Alright. C'mon, Hyuka."

Both Soobin and Taehyun moved out of the way to let the two of them pass, and after retaking their seats, they watched for a moment as the pair got bombarded from all sides by interested fans. Kai smiled and bowed, clearly saying thank you while waving people away while Beomgyu just sort of awkwardly accepted whatever they had to tell him and said a few words back. After a couple minutes of this, Kai finally placed his hand on Beomgyu's back and steered him forcefully through the crowd, turning away people that got too close. Something Beomgyu was either too nice or too awkward to do.

"You know Kai?" Taehyun eventually asked, drawing his attention back. "I remember Beomgyu mentioning something about it."

"Yeah, he works at my mom's restaurant. He's a good kid."

Taehyun tilted his head. "We're the same age, me and him."

Soobin realized Yeonjun had told him that before, but he found it sort of difficult to believe. Kai always had a sort of youthful, innocent energy around him whereas Taehyun seemed reserved and a little bit jaded. "Right, I remember Yeonjun saying that. I guess, because I've known Kai since he was sixteen, I always think of him as a kid. I'll probably need to work on letting that go."

"Are you Yeonjun-hyung's age?"

"A year younger. But we grew up together."

"Okay, enough personal shit," Yeonjun interrupted with a frown, obviously not keen on letting the details of their past be the main topic of conversation. "Or at least, don't involve me."

"You're welcome to go help them carry drinks," Taehyun suggested. Soobin would've never talked to Yeonjun like that without preparing himself for the chewing-out of a lifetime, but instead, Yeonjun just covered his mouth.

"I'll be quiet," he promised.

This Taehyun guy was fascinating.

"Your full name is Kang Taehyun, right?" Soobin asked, actually getting out his notebook now that he knew they were starting to work.

"Yup."

"You used to be a child actor?"

Taehyun raised his eyebrows. What, did he think Soobin didn't do his research? He was a professional.

"Uh, yeah. From when I was a baby until I was twelve. Mostly commercials and stuff. My mom just wanted to get my name out there early in case I decided I wanted to pursue a career in entertainment. It was always sort of her dream, and I guess she lived vicariously through me."

"What did you do afterwards?"

"Focused on school. I didn't necessarily like it, but I was lucky enough to be very good at it. I've never really had to study, so you could say it comes naturally."

He said everything in a straightforward manner, not stumbling over his words unless Soobin caught him off-guard, and not putting up any sort of pretense, either. It was different from interviewing Yeonjun, who had to say everything in a roundabout way and make every sentence a performance. And it was different from talking to Beomgyu as well, who seemed to be the most quiet and self-conscious out of the group but incredibly nosy at the same time. Kang Taehyun seemed like he had no secrets, and even if he did, would respect Soobin as long as he put in the work to uncover them.

"You're a current Yonsei student, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I go to school for sound engineering and music direction. I'm supposed to graduate this spring."

"How would you say your studies have affected the group? Do you have a lot of input when it comes to the more technical side of things?"

"Honestly, I don't think we would have entertained the idea of becoming a band if I didn't study music. It's not like I pushed us in that direction, but Beomgyu was doing art until he saw my work and wanted to be a part of it. He's always been a solid musician, so that worked out, and he helps me a lot now with my projects. I think working with me sort of gave him the itch to perform, and he coerced everyone else into it," Taehyun remembered with a smile. "Kai joined up because he and Beomgyu became good friends, and he's always looking for a chance to play shows. He's probably the best musician I've ever met, just in it for the artistry. Yeonjun-hyung's like that too, though. It's thanks to Yeonjun that we're even successful at all. Every great band that's made a mark on history has one thing in common, and that's a frontman with star quality. I don't think any of us could've stepped up to the plate for that like he does. And he's our grounding center. Every major decision sort of falls onto him. So we try to do our parts. For me, that's mostly songwriting. I like to do toplining and work with Yeonjun on lyrics. Most of our melodies were written by me. Kai and Beomgyu handle instrumentation and production. It's a good division of labor. At least, it's worked so far."

Soobin nodded. "Have you always played bass?"

"No, actually, I sort of picked it up for the band. I'm not a great instrumentalist, vocals and piano were more my thing. But in my field of study, you need a good understanding of how all instruments work, so I didn't mind learning something new. Since Beomgyu's the best on lead guitar, Kai was the obvious choice for percussion. That left rhythm bass and vocals. Yeonjun would've learned how to play but I volunteered because I knew we'd have more success if he was front and center."

"That's really selfless of you," Soobin observed, although he knew he would have made the same choice if he were in Taehyun's shoes. Yeonjun just had a performance quality about him that demanded he take centerstage.

"Not really. Like I said, I know he would have done the same thing for me. But in the end, we all voted for him to be the lead singer." And then he smiled. "Except for Yeonjun. He voted for me."

"Hey, I would've been so sexy on bass," Yeonjun interjected, breaking his promise to keep quiet. "I just...you know, had to learn to play the damn thing."

"I think things worked exactly how they were meant to, hyung," Taehyun said with a chuckle. "Given our success, we've never really wondered if we made the right choice. It's so obvious."

"You seem pretty optimistic for the future, then."

"Of course I am," Taehyun agreed. "We've got big plans. I think by this time next year, we'll be doing festivals. I hope we don't stop playing clubs, though. It's in our roots. We'll just have to limit entry, because this-" he pointed behind him to the full room, bodies pressed against bodies, their music bumping over the speakers, people vying for any possible glimpse of them while the band themselves had barely any protection- "isn't really sustainable."

"It must feel great, though, to see the turnout just for you guys."

"Oh, definitely. We were playing the same venues this time last year for a quarter of the crowd, and we were opening for other groups. And don't get me wrong, we have no problem with opening. It would be a dream to open for a big industry senior during their tour, or festivals, or whatever else. We talk about it a lot. And a few offers have come our way, but it's really important to us to preserve the integrity of our artistry, so we want to make sure we're pairing with artists that match our vibe."

"Speaking of your vibe, how did you settle on rock music? It seems like you're a pretty diverse group of guys."

"Yeah, but there was never really a question about it. Kai and Yeonjun both have major rock influences. Kai's always liked band music, and Yeonjun's been involved in the punk and post-hardcore scenes since I've known him. He used to hang out with a lot of other artists before we even made our debut single. Beomgyu's always been more indie, but he fits in well with the vibe, and his contributions have made some of our most unique music. I guess my contribution is pop? I'm probably the reason we've had a little bit of commercial success. I've always loved pop music and it's the focus of my studies in university. When I write, or when I'm doing toplining, I'm trying to think about how to blend all of our influences together into something that's cohesive and infectious. And people always think Yeonjun just writes the dark stuff, but he's the mastermind behind plenty of our fun, upbeat songs. We collaborate in that territory. I write a lot of our sexier songs. Yeonjun writes the demonic stuff. That's where we deviate, I guess."

Soobin glanced at Yeonjun, who was watching expressionless, back in his role of being an observer and not a disrupter. "I wouldn't have guessed that," he admitted.

"Well most of the material comes from Yeonjun, I'm just sort of the bird on his shoulder that notices and writes stuff down. We play to our strengths."

Yeonjun glared at Taehyun. "Are you saying that I-"

"Drinks!" Beomgyu announced, setting glasses down on the edge of the table. Kai followed suit, and they went to work dispersing them to their owners. Kai and Beomgyu both sat down with their beers, sliding Yeonjun and Taehyun's whiskeys across to them. Soobin pulled the last glass -which he could only assume was another non-alcoholic blue drink- over towards himself. "How's it going, almost finished?" he asked Taehyun.

"It was going well enough until Yeonjun-hyung decided to argue with me," Taehyun replied, taking a neat sip of his drink.

"I wasn't going to argue," Yeonjun protested. "Look, I'm going back to being quiet, okay?"

Soobin conceded as well, holding his hands up in apology. "Sorry, that was unprofessional. I shouldn't have asked for more details-"

He was interrupted by a condescending scoff from Yeonjun.

"What now?" Soobin couldn't help but look in his direction.

"Nothing." Yeonjun took a sip from his new drink, toying with the glass.

"You don't think I'm professional?"

"No, I think you're very professional. A little too much. We're all just hanging out, having fun. No need to be so serious."

"We're hanging out and having fun," Taehyun corrected, surprisingly coming to Soobin's defense. "He's here to do his job. And once he's done, maybe he can have fun, too."

Yeonjun folded his hands very demurely. "I'm letting him do his job."

"You just don't like when your boy toy is talking to someone else," Beomgyu interrupted, swaying a little and laughing to himself.

Rather than protest, Yeonjun just shrugged. It wasn't a clear no.

Did they really think of Soobin as Yeonjun's toy? Maybe that's what he was to these people. They all watched with glittering predatory eyes, all in their element, making him feel like a rabbit surrounded by wolves.

"Um..." he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Anyway, where was I, Taehyun-ssi?"

"Lyrics," he offered. "But I don't have a lot more to say about that. And you don't have to be so formal with me. I'm younger than you. Do you have any other questions?"

Soobin reviewed his notes- they had hit almost all of his points, but he had one more thing he liked to ask the lyricist. "What does your writing process look like?"

Taehyun reclined comfortably in the booth, taking his tumbler of whiskey with him. Beomgyu rested his head on his shoulder, playing idly with a loose thread at the end of his sleeve. "I'm pretty methodical about writing. I set a date and time, and work on lyrics for as long as it takes to produce something good. I write, and brainstorm, and scrap stuff, but usually I can come up with one or two songs by the end of the day. I just work at my desk until I'm satisfied."

Soobin nodded, then asked, "What's your vision for the band's trajectory?"

"I think I'm probably the most ambitious," Taehyun admitted. "I want us to keep getting bigger until there's no stage left to aim for. When we're doing domes and stadiums, maybe I'll be satisfied. Until then, I just want to make music with my friends and get better with every show we play."

"I think you're already well on your way," Soobin reassured him as he jotted down Taehyun's response. "Thank you, this is all really good stuff."

"How is it compared to mine?" Beomgyu asked.

"Not comparable," he replied right away. No interview was better than another unless one person hadn't cared at all during the process. "I asked you different questions for a reason- like Taehyun was saying earlier, it seems like you have different strengths, and you each bring them to the band to make it more successful."

"I want to do it," Kai suddenly spoke up. "I mean...if you have time."

"Right now?"

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Doesn't have to be now. Whenever."

Soobin nodded. "I don't have any material prepped. Maybe next week?"

"We're playing a concert hall in Itaewon. It'll be our biggest show yet. You want to come?"

Soobin glanced at Yeonjun, instinctively seeking his permission.

Yeonjun just narrowed his eyes at Soobin's obvious attempt for guidance, forcing him to make his own choices.

"Um, maybe!" Soobin said lamely, unable to guarantee anything for now. "Let me check my schedule. I have a few shows and interviews coming up that I've already booked tickets for, so I'll get back to you, okay? If not, we can always do it at the restaurant."

Kai wrinkled his nose. "I'd rather do it after one of our shows. I'll be way more amped up then."

The other band members nodded, seeming to unanimously agree.

"Okay, I'll take a look and let you know."

Yeonjun hooked his chin over Soobin's shoulder then, and he could feel his warm breath against his cheek, surprisingly soft and sweet. "Tell me when you decide to come. I'll cover your entry."

"O-okay," he said again, brain becoming foggy the longer he lingered so close.

"Hyung," Beomgyu chimed in. "Let him breathe."

"But I'm cold," Yeonjun whined, pressing closer against Soobin apparently in an attempt to steal his body heat. Soobin went rigid, breath freezing in his lungs. Yeonjun must have successfully taken everything from him, yet somehow left a distinct burning sensation behind.

Soobin forced himself to exhale, and even though it came out shaky, he managed to regain speech. "Here," he said, carefully slipping his coat off his shoulders and draping it over Yeonjun's bare ones instead. "It's my fault. I haven't put a coat for you in my bag yet."

Yeonjun clutched it but looked at Soobin as if he were a strange foreign creature. "You don't have to-"

"It's fine, I'm wearing a sweater."

It took Yeonjun a second to realize he was losing face in front of his friends, but as soon as he did, he just nodded brusquely and slid his arms through the sleeves. "Such a problem solver." His voice had regained that suave lackadaisical edge, and he seemed unbothered once more. "Are we still doing an after-party?"

"Yeah, I think the guys from Pandora's Cross are hosting. It'll be down at the Cooler, though."

"I'm not dressed for that," Yeonjun remarked, knocking back his drink. "We'll have to change."

"I'm gonna pass this time," Kai declined. "I don't like that place."

Beomgyu leaned forward, having successfully liberated the loose thread, he now wrapped it compulsively around his finger. "It's not that bad. You just haven't gone enough to get used to the atmosphere."

"The atmosphere is creepy and last time I walked in on something I can never unsee." Kai looked dead-serious, while Taehyun chuckled.

"You can come back with me," Soobin offered. "I think the late-night bus line outside my house stops by your parents' place."

Kai pointed at him. "I'll be doing that."

"Don't, I'll drive you home," Beomgyu waved his suggestion away.

"No, you'll kidnap me and try to talk me into going."

"I'm sorry, what's so bad about this club?" Soobin had to ask.

"Nothing," Yeonjun and Taehyun both immediately replied, earning them dirty looks from Kai.

"It's a fetish club," Beomgyu informed him, ignoring both of their attempts to shut him up. "Like latex, drugs, and metalcore that makes your ears bleed. The two of them are just into it, that's why they want us to go. I think it's fucking loud and headache-inducing as shit, but the actual vibe doesn't bother me."

"I want us to go because we're friends with Pandora's Cross and they came to our last party," Taehyun clarified. "It's only fair."

"Yeah, but we had ours at the Pearl," Kai argued. "I'm not going to the fucking Cooler."

Soobin had never heard him cuss like that, and said, "I'm really okay walking Kai back if you guys are heading out."

Yeonjun held up his hand as though telling him to wait. "We're not heading out yet, the party won't kick in for another hour at least. They never finish their set before one."

Their lives sounded exhausting- they were really going to wait until one in the morning for a party to even start?

Then, tentatively, Yeonjun asked, "Is it okay if Jiro comes?"

Kai groaned loudly and finished his beer. "Fuck no."

Beomgyu leaned over to slap his shoulder. "It's fine with me," he said, glaring daggers at his drummer.

Taehyun just raised an eyebrow and asked, "You already invited him, didn't you?"

Yeonjun shrugged.

"What's the point in asking, then? Sure, yeah, it's fine."

"Is he meeting you here, or..." Soobin's question trailed off.

Nodding, Yeonjun jerked his chin towards the bar, where a vaguely familiar dark silhouette stood ordering a drink. "He's already here."

"Wow, way to give us a heads-up," Kai muttered darkly.

"Sorry," Yeonjun said, but didn't seem all that apologetic, now focused on not looking in his boyfriend's direction at all.

It occurred to Soobin a second too late that he was sitting in the line of fire. "Who the fuck are you?" a voice asked abruptly by his shoulder, and Soobin glanced up to see the same guy who had practically assaulted Yeonjun in that bathroom standing over him.

Yeonjun placed a hand on Soobin's shoulder and said sweetly, "This is Choi Soobin, he's my friend from church. Um, Soobin-ah, this is Tanaka Jiro."

"Nice to meet you," Jiro said before Soobin could speak, voice flat and disinterested. He had a drink in one hand and the other was shoved in the pockets of his baggy two-tiered black pants, held together by belts and metal studs, over which he wore two shapeless black shirts, one long-sleeve, the other short and billowing. He had his face mask pulled down to his chin, eyes narrow and framed by dark circles. He was the poster boy for abstract Japanese streetwear. Like he had been plucked out of a magazine. Yet lacking so much character that it could have been any magazine. "Mind moving?"

"Oh, uh, no problem." Soobin scooted out of the booth, letting Jiro slide into his spot. When he passed, he smelled like cigarette smoke and citrus. "Kai, do you still want to come back with me? I'm probably going to head out."

While he asked, he overheard Jiro murmur to Yeonjun, "You're not wearing that to the Cooler, are you? They’ll kick us out."

"Obviously not," Yeonjun whispered back. "I just haven't had a chance to change."

"Good." He wrapped his arm around Yeonjun's shoulders and sipped his drink. Taehyun nodded his way and Beomgyu greeted him quietly.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Kai didn't even acknowledge Jiro, climbing over his friends in his obvious haste.

"Bye," Soobin said once they stood shoulder to shoulder. "Thanks again for the interview, Taehyun-ah."

"No problem." Taehyun waved, and Beomgyu mirrored him. "Get home safe."

"You better text me once you get there and the second you leave, or else," Kai threatened.

"We will, Hyuka," Yeonjun promised with a smile. "I'll keep these guys safe."

"And I'll keep him safe," Jiro added, but it was as if Kai suddenly grew selective listening.

He only replied to Yeonjun, saying, "I trust you. See you all tomorrow."

"Bye, Bin-ah," Yeonjun murmured and waved them out. Soobin returned his wave, but didn't want to say anything in front of his boyfriend for fear of accidentally setting him off somehow and ruining Yeonjun’s night.

They left the venue, people hurrying over to Kai the minute he left the safety of the roped-off area. Soobin acted as his bodyguard, standing slightly behind him to be over his shoulder and cover his back. Kai politely greeted everyone they passed, but as someone who had known him for a long time, he could tell Kai wasn't in the mood.

They got out as quickly as they could, and Soobin was shocked by the cold plunge that awaited them. The wind stung his nose and he went to wrap his coat tighter before realizing he'd left it with Yeonjun. Oh well. He would probably need it more than Soobin did tonight.

"You don't like him very much, do you?" Soobin asked quietly once they were down the block.

"Who?" Kai decided to play dumb.

"That guy with Yeonjun. Tanaka Jiro."

"Oh, him?" Lips pressed in a thin line, Kai eventually conceded tightly, "No, I don't like him."

"Why not?"

"He's an abuser and a cheater, and I think he should die a miserable death as soon as possible."

He had never heard that sort of vitriol come out of Kai's mouth, inspired only by the presence of a person who he apparently despised to his core.

Soobin was glad to know his judgment of the guy's character hadn't been too far off, then. "I saw them together, the second night I went to watch you guys. They were arguing in the bathroom and he hit Yeonjun."

"Yeah, I'm sure he did." The fact that Kai didn't even sound surprised made him feel more sick than anything. That must mean that Yeonjun lied, and there wasn't anything new or out of character about his behavior that night at all. "He doesn't love Yeonjun. He just wants to be able to tell people they're fucking."

"But why would Yeonjun stay with a guy like that? He's not that naive, and he's always been able to stick up for himself."

"Because he wants to," Kai said, plain and dejected. "He always swears he and Jiro are trauma-bonded, or something. Like, they have something he can't replicate with anyone else. That's why he puts up with him cheating." Kai paused. "Well, okay, that's not fair. He didn't put up with him cheating. Except for, instead of getting Jiro to stop, Jiro just gave him permission to do the same thing. Which didn't solve the problem at all, but Yeonjun's pretending like it's a fair compromise."

"That sounds so toxic," Soobin muttered. "I don't get it."

"Neither do I," Kai agreed. "But it's been like two years, so I'm trying to bite my tongue. Beomgyu doesn't seem to mind him so much as long as he's not being crazy, and Taehyun's better at masking than me. So I'm the one who looks like a dick for not wanting him to be around."

"I think it's good of you to at least try," Soobin said after thinking it over for a moment. "Even if Yeonjun doesn't realize what you're trying to do for him."

"I think he knows what I'm doing, he just believes that I'm young and impulsive, and so I apparently don't understand."

"Well, I guess I'm on your side, so I'll keep arguing with him about it as much as possible."

"Maybe he'll actually take you seriously."

"Maybe." They had reached his family's building and Soobin jogged over to the bus stop, double-checking the timetable. "Yeah, there should be one coming in five minutes. It'll take you straight past your parents' place."

Kai smiled gratefully. "Thanks, hyung. You don't have to wait out here with me, you can head upstairs if you want."

"Nah, I'll hang out." He shoved his hands in his pockets, shielding them from the wind. The streetlights on his block flickered more orange than white, and cars rarely rolled past. It was like a ghost town at this time. He didn't want to leave Kai alone to be taken by the phantoms of the night. "Your show was great, by the way. I don't know if I ever mentioned it."

"I had fun," Kai agreed. "We don’t play that venue often, and never before as the main act. It's a little bigger than we're used to. I think we might finally be starting to move up in the world."

"Sure looks like it. You guys are way more popular than you give yourselves credit for."

"We just exploded recently, honestly. We had a single that went viral a couple months ago, and that got the ball rolling for us. So we're not really used to the crowds, and our team isn't equipped to handle the turnout." Kai sighed. "It's cool, but it feels like everything has gotten a lot more complicated recently. I think we'll need to majorly overhaul the way we do things."

"Do you guys want that kind of fame?" Soobin decided to ask, having been unable to determine the vibe from the group up until now.

"Taehyun and Yeonjun definitely do. I think Beomgyu and I are in the same boat- we like being a band and we like playing music. The details of it don't matter that much to us, as long as those two things are set in stone. It could be for fifty people or fifty-thousand."

"I think it's good for a band to have both perspectives. You and Beomgyu keep the group grounded, while Yeonjun and Taehyun keep you hungry."

Kai nodded. His nose and cheeks burned pink from the cold, made more evident by his pale face and white hair. He looked like Jack Frost, just with smoky eyeliner and ear piercings. "I think so, too. Sometimes, I feel like we're in over our heads, but at the end of the night, I'm always happy."

"Except for tonight?" Soobin joked.

His gaze darkened and he muttered, "Yeah, except for tonight. Fucking Jiro."

"I'll talk to him," he promised, even though he had no idea if Yeonjun would even care about what he had to say.

"You can definitely try." The quiet of the cold was broken by the sound of industrial breaks as the bus rounded the corner and slowed to a stop for them. "I'll see you later," Kai changed his tone, suddenly putting on a cheerful show for him.

"Text me once you're back." Soobin gave him the same treatment he'd given the other guys.

Kai smiled and hopped up the steps. "Yup, will do. Night, hyung."

The doors shut behind him and Soobin stood there until the bus pulled away from the curb and disappeared down the street. For some reason, Soobin lingered, staring into the shadows and distant pools of lamplight, compelled to search for the unknown.

He heard Yeonjun's advice ringing in his ears- try finding God somewhere other than church.

Yet, even as Soobin searched, He didn't appear to him out of the pools of orange light nor was He born of the slick black asphalt. Resigned, he turned his back on the empty street and the ghosts that beckoned him, unlocking the side door that would lead him up to his family's apartment and the promise of salvation in sleep.

...

Once again, it was the mere act of receiving a text from Yeonjun that turned his world upside down. He should start expecting it at this point. Yet, each time it happened, he stopped working and simply stared at his phone for a moment.

Maybe he would never get used to the rush of seeing his name pop up on screen.

Do you mind swinging by my place?

It had been three days since he saw them play last. Yeonjun hadn't come to church that Sunday. It was the first time he had missed it in years.

What do you need?

I still have your coat from the other night. I'm gonna lose it if I hold onto it any longer

Soobin did want his coat back. But he didn't necessarily want to confront Yeonjun in order to get it.

Text me your address, let me see if it's on my way

[location attached]

Soobin opened his map only to see Yeonjun's house was located conveniently between his work and his own home, and his bus even made a stop there regularly.

You're so lucky

I know. You coming?

Well I guess I have to now

Only if you want your stuff back. Otherwise I'm going to wear it to a show and ruin it

Please don't. I'll be there after work

When is that?

He always forgot that Yeonjun had never had a corporate job.

Technically five, but I usually stay late

Well don't today

He was so transparent with his demands that Soobin almost forgave his attitude out of sheer respect for his confidence.

You could at least say please

I could

What he didn't say came through just as clearly: he could, but he wouldn't.

He wondered what compelled Yeonjun to be so difficult and why Soobin found it charming. Maybe he was the bigger masochist between the two of them.

As soon as he saw his supervisor's office door open, he quickly put his phone away and returned his attention to his computer screen, praying he wasn't coming his way.

Unfortunately, God rarely seemed to hear him these days. Perhaps because he had yet to truly find Him. His shiny leather shoes pointed straight towards Soobin's cubicle, and he looked up promptly the moment he was at his side.

"Sir," Soobin greeted him with a dip of his head.

To his surprise, his supervisor was grinning. "Soobin-ssi, my new moneymaker. How are things going?"

"Um," he glanced at his screen again where a draft for a hip-hop group he had seen on Saturday sat. "Good. I'm working on a new piece and fine-tuning some other reviews."

"Your articles have been a hit," he informed him, looking proud, and it warmed Soobin a bit on the inside. He'd never really had his work recognized before. "People are eating it up, and it's booming opportunities for the artists, too. We've received a ton of gift baskets and thank-you letters. I'll make sure some of that is set aside for you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Got some big news." He rested his arm over the edge of Soobin's cubicle, nonchalant in the way he made him feel like a caged animal, blocking the sunlight from the windows.

Soobin tilted his head and asked, "What is it?"

His supervisor drummed his hands on the cubicle excitedly before revealing, "We're moving you up a floor."

He blinked- surely he didn't hear that right. "R-really?"

"Yes, really!" His supervisor seemed more thrilled than Soobin. Maybe he was doing something right. "I think it's too distracting here, you need a calmer environment. This space is mostly for editors, and you're one of our top writers now."

"You're really not kidding?" He couldn't believe it.

His supervisor laughed. "Of course I'm not. Take some pride in your work, kid."

Soobin glanced around in disbelief, unsure what to do or say next. "Thank you, sir," he repeated, even smiling a little.

"Hey, you earned it. Take the rest of the evening to move your stuff, you can head out when you're done. You'll be suite number twelve."

Soobin clasped his hands together and got up from his chair to bow, thanking his supervisor profusely until he left. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined he would get promoted to the writers' floor.

His supervisor was gone as quickly as he had come, leaving Soobin to pack up and relocate. The same box he had used to move in still sat in the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet, so he pulled it out and tossed in what he could- his notebook, pens, mouse and mousepad, along with the recent printouts of his articles he'd been looking over and correcting. Then, he slipped his laptop into his bag and slung that over his shoulder.

With his hands full, he left his cubicle, feeling a little awkward with his arms full even though he knew no one was watching him. He took the elevator up a floor, where it opened into a long grey and brown hallway, lined on each side with marked doors. Individual office suites for their big-time writers.

He couldn't believe this was happening.

He found number 12- it was unlocked, and the door swung open to reveal a space much larger than his cubicle, with a wide desk upon which sat an extra monitor and a lamp. He even had a window to his back he could look out when he needed to ponder.

Soobin took his time unpacking, trying to calm his nervous system before going over to Yeonjun's place.

He had known, of course, that Yeonjun didn't live with his mother anymore. He couldn't have, otherwise they would have run into each other a lot more over the past few years. And it would probably be difficult for him to keep so many secrets if he lived under her roof.

Still, most of his friends, and Soobin himself, lived with their families. They were expected to take care of their parents, at least until they got married. But Yeonjun had shrugged off that tradition as well.

It would be strange being in a place dominated solely by Yeonjun's energy.

When five came and went, and Soobin couldn't stall any longer, he sighed and retrieved his bag. A bus would be coming in eight minutes, which was just enough time to get out of the building and down the street.

So, against his better judgment, he did just that, obsessively checking and rechecking the stop he needed once he was on to make sure he didn't miss it.

To his surprise, the stop his GPS app directed him to was in a nice neighborhood. Small family houses lined the narrow streets, fenced and gated with green yards and sloped roofs.

Soobin took in the view as he stepped off the bus. No cars parked along the street- it was quiet and clean. A few trees hung over the fences, littering fallen leaves that kicked up in the wind.

He walked until he found the number he was looking for- 613.

The house looked like all the others- conservative, but not tiny. Well-kept and gated off from the street. Soobin tested the gate and found it unlocked, so he let himself in, anxiously approaching the door. It was up on a clean stoop- nothing identified this house as belonging to the blasphemous lead singer of a hardcore rock band. A salaryman and his wife could just as easily have lived in the same place.

He hesitated for only a second before knocking.

A few moments passed and then Yeonjun appeared, looking disheveled and a little frazzled, but he smiled once he saw Soobin. "Oh, hey. I was wondering if you were actually going to come." He held the door open, motioning him inside.

"I said I would, didn't I?" Soobin followed him in, slipping his shoes off in the clean white entryway. Yeonjun took his bag and set it on the decorative narrow table against the wall.

"You did," he agreed. "I just wasn't going to hold you to your word."

"You must be really used to people not following through," Soobin muttered, and Yeonjun laughed.

"Yeah, I guess I am. Maybe that's why you're such a breath of fresh air." Then, Yeonjun suddenly halted. "Oh, wait. You're here for your coat, right? There's no reason to make you hang out. I can just go grab it."

This felt like a trap, a wire that Soobin could very easily trip over and set off a chain reaction. "Well, that depends," he said idly, hands crossed behind his back as he glanced around the little entry room. There was only that table and a large wooden cross to look at, though, so he couldn't stall for long. "What are you up to?"

"Cleaning and trying to find a few things I misplaced. Nothing fun."

Soobin nodded, then asked, "Do you...want company? I can help."

Internally, he cringed at himself. He apparently would offer to clean Yeonjun's house just to be in his presence.

"I don't really need help," Yeonjun said, but his voice was soft, and he held the next door open for him. Extending the option to stay. "But you can keep me company if you want."

They had to be the weirdest pair of friends. Were they friends yet? How would he even know? Why did every sentence they exchanged feel as complicated as disarming a live bomb? It was like neither of them wanted to scare off the other, so they just tiptoed around their relationship as it slowly repaired itself, and maybe one day one of them would be brave enough to acknowledge it out loud.

"Sure."

The door from the entryway led into the kitchen, which opened into the living room and a hallway that branched off the other side. It smelled like lemon cleaner and looked spotless- Yeonjun must have just finished in there. A few candles had been lit and only the hall light was on. "I was looking for some stuff in my room before you came," he explained, leading him down the hall. On the left side, one door was cracked and showed a sliver of the bathroom. On the right side were two bedrooms, one empty and sterile, maybe an office-space in progress, and the other very clearly Yeonjun's.

His room looked both exactly like Soobin imagined and yet somehow more manic. It was a big enough bedroom, with a massive closet. But the clothes seemed to have escaped, spilling out from the door, shoes stacked haphazardly on shelves. A coat rack in the corner held suit jackets and bondage gear, collars and harnesses hung up right beside black and white blazers and loose ties.

Cutouts from fashion magazines and interviews from his favorite musicians were plastered over the walls, framing his giant standing mirror and pictures of his family and friends. Certain things were highlighted pink, others circled over and over in red. The fashion cutouts had sticky notes covered in sprawling handwriting stuck to them. A bottle of whiskey and a stack of worn notebooks sat on the nightstand.

The bed wasn't as large as Soobin would've thought, with a frame of black metal bars. It looked almost intentionally uncomfortable. Ribbons were tied to both the left and right-hand sides.

"What are the ribbons for?" He couldn't help but ask, unable to figure it out himself. Were they suspension tools for something?

"Oh, you sweet darling," Yeonjun sighed, then laughed to himself. "You can certainly guess, but I almost don't want to be the one to tell you."

Soobin nodded to himself, feeling silly all of a sudden. He could tell just from Yeonjun’s tone. "Right, of course. A fetish thing. I- I don't know why I didn't piece that together."

"Because you're too good for the world," Yeonjun remarked, rubbing his shoulder as he passed by to open his nightstand drawer. "Maybe you were right to stay away from me for all those years."

"Oh, trust me. I have no doubts about that." Still, Soobin followed, sitting gingerly on the edge of his bed.

"So, why are you still here?"

"Being right isn't always the most important thing in the world."

The sound of Yeonjun shuffling through the drawer paused for a moment, as if Soobin's words really hit him. And then the second passed, and he resumed his search.

"What are you looking for, anyway?" Soobin asked.

"My car keys," Yeonjun muttered.

"You have a car?"

"Yeah. I'm not surprised you didn't know, though. Don't worry, you're not that unobservant. Whenever we move our instruments and gear and stuff, we usually take Beomgyu's van. I don't drive because I have a tendency to get fucked up, if you haven't noticed."

"I've noticed," Soobin confirmed. And Yeonjun looked mildly embarrassed, as if somehow hoping Soobin hadn't picked up on his relationship with addiction.

"Anyways, my mom wants the car. She has a doctor's appointment across the city that I can't take her to because we're meeting with our agency."

"Why not take the bus?"

Yeonjun shrugged. "She's not really...I think it would overwhelm her."

"Does she need it tonight?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Okay." Soobin scooted farther up the bed to be in Yeonjun's line of sight. "Take a deep breath, then. You have time. No need to get frantic." Yeonjun's hands were visibly shaking, probably from the adrenaline hitting his shot nerves.

He nodded, and took a step back, before deciding to sit beside him. Then he sighed again, this time full of so much internal frustration. He pulled his shirt off over his head -maybe it helped alleviate the weight on his shoulders- before falling back onto the mattress, groaning, eyes closed.

Soobin took great care to focus his gaze above Yeonjun's shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"If I lost those fucking keys, I'm gonna-"

"Hey, it's fine," Soobin cut off that line of thinking before it could get dangerous.

"It's not. I can't be responsible for anything. Even something really fucking expensive that I swore I was going to take care of."

"It's not like you lost the car. That would be way more impressive."

Yeonjun snorted. "You're not wrong, but you're also not helping."

"We'll tear apart the place. And if we don't find the keys, we can replace them."

"It's going to cost an arm and a leg," Yeonjun groaned again, aggressively rubbing his face.

"I'm gonna look it up," Soobin decided. "So you don't doom-spiral." As he said that, he slipped his phone from his pocket and asked, "What kind of car?"

"Uh...it's definitely a Kia."

"Specific. Thanks."

"Choi Soobin, you're so asking to be strangled." He didn't sound so threatening when his voice was whiny and muffled by his hands.

Soobin simply clicked his tongue, and said, "Looks like the highest it's going to run you is 400 thousand won. Which obviously isn't ideal, but we can swing it just fine."

Yeonjun gave another long sigh. "I'd rather not, though."

Soobin glanced over at him, forgetting he was shirtless, and received a shock through his system. An unfamiliar jolt, hot and covetous. He shouldn't look, but it was too late. Yeonjun had a nice body. Less defined, actually, than Soobin would have thought given the muscle in his arms. His stomach was flat but unsculpted. The most interesting things, though, were the tattoos tracing his v-line, sharp metal-like shapes with vines twisted around them from which roses blossomed, disappearing into the waistband of his black jeans.

"Enjoying the view?" Yeonjun asked, and Soobin raised his attention with a start, realizing Yeonjun had propped himself up on his elbows and was watching Soobin stare unashamedly at his torso.

He ducked his head immediately, heat flooding his face. "Sorry. I was looking at your tattoos," he mumbled.

Surprisingly, Yeonjun didn't continue teasing him. Instead, rolled over and laid on his stomach, still held up by his elbows. The new position revealed another tattoo, a jagged mock-up of his spine all the way down where it resided in his body, so spindly and sharp it looked like it would cut him if he touched it, twined through with the same flora. He replied, "I try not to get them in obvious places. For my mom. I know it would make her unhappy. But I like having art on my body and being the only person who knows what it means."

"I can understand that." He did, actually, and he respected Yeonjun's choice to keep them private, not just for himself but for the people he cared about.

"You ever thought about getting one?"

Soobin was quick to shake his head. "No. It's not really for me."

Yeonjun cracked half a smile. "And just when I thought I had successfully corrupted you."

"Nice try. I've actually never had anything against them, it just doesn't sound fun to me. A lot of pain for very little gratification. I don't know."

With a shrug, Yeonjun said, "Maybe you'll find something important enough to be worth it."

There he went again, trying to give him a complex that had him looking for God in puddles of streetlight.

Unwilling to just dismiss him, Soobin mirrored his shrug. "Maybe."

It looked like it took great effort, but Yeonjun eventually regained his sitting position, then pushed himself to his feet. "I'm gonna keep looking. Feel free to help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen."

Soobin got to his feet as well. "I'll help. Tell me where to start."

He could tell Yeonjun felt grateful without him having to say anything. He nodded, then looked around before deciding, "Maybe the living room? They could have ended up in the couch cushions. I think I'll go through all my clothes, searching the pockets."

"Sounds good." As Soobin headed for the living room, he heard the telltale beep of a bluetooth speaker turning on, and music began to play. It was sort of dark and grungy, but pleasant to listen to. Still rock music, delicate when paying attention to the instrumental and dirty once he focused on the words. Fitting for Yeonjun. It seemed like he had a good audio system set up, too, with speakers in each room that didn't have any awkward delays between them.

The couch with its red cushions was irritatingly unyielding. He had to work to strip it bare, and even when he did, it revealed nothing. With the music backing him and the comforting ambiance of Yeonjun shuffling around his bedroom, he didn't mind the tedium of searching so much. He put the couch back together and decided to look in all the little end tables, inside drawers, and even in the coat pockets hung up by the door. He checked behind the shoe shelf in the entryway in case the keys had fallen back there, but still came up empty.

"Is the car unlocked?" Soobin called down the hall.

"Yeah!" Yeonjun called back from deep within his closet.

"I'm going to look out there," he informed him, before slipping on his shoes and heading out the door.

The sun had gone down while they were inside. His breath lit up white, framed by the porch light, before disappearing like a ghost. He opened the door to the detached garage where Yeonjun's black Kia sat. It was an unremarkable little car. Soobin pulled open the passenger door and flicked on the overhead light. It was weak, casting yellow light and shadows. He moved the seats back, searching every crevice, the seat wells, the doors, the console, and even the pockets in the backseat.

He felt strangely disappointed. He really thought he'd find it there and then he could tease Yeonjun for being dramatic. Shame. Soobin searched top-to-bottom one more time just in case, but no luck. With a sigh, he pushed the light off and shut the door. For good measure, he gave the garage a quick sweep, but didn't find anything except for old mic stands and loose audio cables.

Just as he was taking his shoes off in the entryway, he heard, "Yes!" from down the hall. Soobin quickly made his way to Yeonjun's bedroom, where he found him in the closet, clutching a keyring to his chest, a white and pink leopard print coat draped across his lap with suspicious holes all over it. "I should've known," Yeonjun said, shaking his head but visibly relieved. "I don't remember anything that happened the night I wore this except for the fact that I wore it."

Soobin sat beside him on the floor. "I'm glad you found them."

"Yeah, me too." Then, Yeonjun set them aside in favor of holding up his coat and glaring at it. "This is trashed."

"What happened?"

"Told you. Don't remember. It doesn't go with most of my wardrobe anyways, it's probably time to throw it out."

"Good thing you got your keys out of it before you decided to go on a fashion crusade."

"Yeah, no kidding." Yeonjun sighed in relief, holding his keys again. "I'm gonna go hang these up where they belong."

Soobin stood with him, suggesting, "Why don't we celebrate?"

Yeonjun gave him a curious look over his shoulder. "How so?"

He walked to the kitchen and opened Yeonjun's fridge, pulling out a beer for him and a can of sparkling water for himself. Yeonjun probably used it as a mixer, but it worked just fine as a drink. Beverages in hand, he headed for the door, slipping on his shoes and exiting out to the garage. He got in the passenger side of the Kia and, after throwing his shirt back on, Yeonjun followed suit, getting in the driver's seat.

"You wanna go somewhere?" Yeonjun asked, still somewhat bemused.

"Not really. Are you allowed to park on the street?"

Understanding his desire to see the sky, Yeonjun replied, "No, but there's an open parking lot at the end of the block." With that, he fit the key into the lock and turned the car on. A push of a button had the garage door rolling up, and Yeonjun carefully backed onto the street. It was empty, but Soobin could hear the city sounds beyond, other cars driving by and the occasional siren. The car ambled down the narrow road until they turned into a small empty lot where Yeonjun parked. His phone had connected to the audio and switched the music from the house to the car's speakers.

It was only as Soobin was twisting the top off his sparkling water that he realized Yeonjun's beer required an actual bottle opener. "Shoot, I forgot to grab a bottle opener. Sorry."

Yeonjun held the bottle in his hands and replied, "No worries," before popping the lid off with his teeth and taking a drink.

Soobin's heart skipped a beat. His nonchalance and the sight of his big pretty lips pressed against the bottle top and..."I don't think that's good for your teeth."

"My hope is that one day I'll be rich and famous enough to pay for someone to fix them."

"Or you could just not damage them."

"That goes against the plan," Yeonjun explained. "I have to drink to have inspiration to become rich and famous, and sometimes, in order to drink, I have to use my teeth to open bottles because I was given a bottle with no opener by the cute idiot I've decided I want as a friend."

That was so many words in one sentence. "If I typed that sentence in an article, my boss would fire me immediately."

"This is why I'm the musician and you're the journalist," Yeonjun replied cheekily, taking another swig of his beer. "Given a bottle with no opener would be a killer lyric."

"Do you guys have a management team?" Soobin asked. The question had never crossed his mind before. He thought Kai might have mentioned a manager before, but he didn't really remember what he said.

"Recently, yeah. We didn't use to. We were just a group of friends making music. Beomgyu and I had some club connections, so they let us play from time to time. We weren't really making any money. Actually, sometimes we lost money between the cost of equipment and driving to venues." Yeonjun shrugged. "I don't think any of us really cared, though. I mean, Taehyun probably cared a little because it was kind of stupid, but we would all rather get to play a show than make a few more bucks. Even him."

"How did you all meet?"

He had heard the story from Beomgyu and Taehyun, but never from Yeonjun's own mouth.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he explained, "Kind of a mixed bag. Beomgyu and I have been friends for a long time. He's in your year, I met him during an admissions interview. We were both art majors. Taehyun's his boyfriend, he's a year younger. He goes to Yonsei. Sound engineering and music direction. Actually, he's finishing this year. But he was always hanging around our campus. The three of us would go do noraebang together, and would get drunk and way too overconfident about our skills. Beomgyu eventually switched his major to music. He got just as disillusioned with art school as I did. It sucks your soul right out, makes you hate creating. Anyway, he's always been good with the guitar, and he knew he'd have a job as long as Taehyun had a job, so it worked out for him. Kai was sort of the missing link. He went to our school, but we didn't cross paths until Beomgyu moved to the music department. And he's a crazy genius. You give him any instrument, and he can play it flawlessly by the time ten minutes have passed. He heard us joking around and jamming out one day and wanted in. So, we suddenly had ourselves a drummer. And thought about the possibility of being a real band. Honestly, I don't think I'm the lead singer because I've got a killer voice. Taehyun is probably a better singer than me. I'm just not good on any instrument besides piano. So, I got the job because it was all I could do."

"I think you've got a pretty killer voice," Soobin reassured him, remembering how easily Yeonjun hypnotized him the second he got up on stage. "Sounds like you guys came together serendipitously."

"Yeah, it always felt like that to me, too. They're cool guys. I'm really lucky to have them. I see some of the other dudes in the industry and thank God for my bandmates."

"Is it a competitive scene?"

Yeonjun snorted, then took another drink. "Ridiculously. No one is special, but every goddamn dropout with a mullet thinks he's God's gift to music. And look, I'm not ever gonna look down on someone else's art, but at a certain point, there's an oversaturation. The scene is stale. Only so many bands are gonna make it. I think that's why I was so relieved when a label reached out to us. It meant we were worth something, if someone with their name out there really wanted to sign us. It was a big moment. Now, obviously I see all the pitfalls and the politics, but it's probably the only reason we're still on stage. Still, I'm not going to pretend like I don't have a backlog of songs about how I've sold my body and soul to the capitalist dream, because there's plenty of that floating around in my head. Maybe eventually I'll release them."

"Not to put a damper on your dreams, but it sounds stressful."

"Your job is stressful, too," Yeonjun pointed out. "That's the thing about a job. No matter how much you love what you do, it's still work at the end of the day. And I fucking love what I do. Doesn't mean I don't want to kill myself once Saturday night finishes."

"That's...not normal, hyung."

"No? Huh." After that, he just drank his beer and kept quiet for a few minutes. "Do you like your job, Soobin-ah?"

"Sure. I like it. I don't love it, not like you do. But it keeps my bills paid and my mind busy. When I go to sleep at night, it's quiet in my head. And the older I get, the more I think that's enough."

He glanced at Yeonjun, and saw he was watching him. Eyes illuminated by the yellow streetlight and blue glow of the dashboard. Almost desperately curious to figure out how his mind worked. It left Soobin with a distinct sense of self-consciousness. He wouldn't ever understand why he interested Yeonjun so much.

When they met eyes, he almost thought, for a second that-

Yeonjun blinked and leaned back, looking out his window. Soobin felt the tension dissolve in his own body, and had to look away as well. He took a swig from his sparkling water, letting the bitter bubbles wash out the anticipation in his mouth.

He had no idea what they were doing, honestly. Sometimes it felt like they really were friends again. Like they picked up right where they left off, and nothing had changed in five years.

Other times, it felt like he was rediscovering Yeonjun entirely. Getting to know a new person, a new way of living. And the tension in his chest told him that God had him holding his breath for a reason. He just didn't know why.

"Are you and um..." Soobin hesitated, not wanting to break the moment with his name, "Jiro still together?"

"Yeah. You saw him the other night."

"I know, I was just checking. I noticed he wasn't at your place. Doesn't he live with you?"

"Sort of. He comes and goes. I'm not too worried about it." He brought his bottle back to his lips, one leg drawn up to his chest, pressed against the steering wheel.

"You shouldn't see your boyfriend as often as you see the neighborhood stray."

"Bin-ah, I told you that I'm not worried." Yeonjun leaned his head back against the window, eyes closed. "As long as he keeps wearing a condom and lets me know he's alive, our relationship will be fine."

Soobin focused on the wrong part of that sentence, he knew it, he could feel his brain zeroing in on the least important detail. As long as he keeps wearing a condom. Jiro. As long as Jiro wore a condom when they-

"I didn't think you were into that," he blurted out, unable to help himself from running his mouth.

Yeonjun opened one eye, watching him like a sleepy cat. "Soobin, I'm dating a guy. Obviously I'm into guys."

"No, I-" He felt himself turning bright red. "I meant...wow, it's none of my business, never mind."

It felt so taboo to even skirt around in discussion that Soobin could feel his heart jumping into his throat.

Yeonjun was smart, though, and caught on to the subject of his scandalized tone. "You didn't think I bottomed," he guessed, now watching him with both eyes, cautious but intrigued.

The term was new to him. "What does that mean?"

Blinking a couple times -he must have seriously underestimated Soobin's naivety on the subject- he eventually explained, "You didn't think that Jiro fucked me, and that it was the other way around. Right?"

His choice in language had Soobin burning brighter still. "I- I honestly never thought about it. Just, hearing you say it out loud shocked me a little. That's all. I just-" he scrambled for an explanation that would justify him even asking in the first place, "I know it's a big part of why you stay with him. So I...wanted to understand."

Eyebrows raised to his hairline, Yeonjun asked, "Do you really want the details of how my boyfriend and I have sex? I'll tell you if you want."

"No!" Soobin decided immediately, the heat in his face reaching an unbearable temperature. "Sorry I asked. I was just...trying to figure out how you guys were still together."

"I told you. We're friends. My mom likes him."

"Right." Then, way too bold for his own good, he pointed out, "Your mom likes me, too."

Yeonjun's eyebrows remained up and he said, "Yeah, that's true. Are you trying to suggest something?"

"No, I'm just saying that's not a good enough reason to keep dating someone you don't like."

Bullet successfully dodged.

"I don't think that's what you were saying."

Bullet hit square on.

"Okay, so what?" He decided to bite the bullet if that's how things were going to be. Yeonjun refused to let him escape, but didn't think him capable of owning up to his own words.

"So, it's rude to come onto me when I have a boyfriend."

Deadpan, Soobin could only reply, "You're joking."

They both knew that, between them, Yeonjun was the worst offender.

Cracking a smile, Yeonjun said, "Yeah, I am. No need to be serious."

Soobin sighed, resting his forehead against the cold glass of the window. "You're so irritating. Break up with your boyfriend, Yeonjun."

"I didn't know you were so desperate for the job."

"That's not it," he groaned, having dug a hole and buried himself in it a million times over already. "I just think it's stupid and toxic. Neither of you act like you're in a relationship. You can still be friends, but even you have to see how ridiculous it is to stay together."

"I don't want to break his heart."

"He's sleeping with other dudes. I don't think he's that committed."

Yeonjun let out his own long sigh. "It's not about that, though. Honestly, I've just been waiting for him to break up with me. I don't want the blood on my hands, y'know?"

"What, so you can tell your mom that he's the one who ended it?"

Yeonjun shrugged. "Maybe. It'd be easier."

"You'll lie about your job and your friends, but that's the line for you?"

"Are you trying to encourage me to lie to my mother? You need to stop hanging out with me, it's changing you."

"I'm just pointing out the hypocrisy."

"Whatever happened to my sweet Soobin, hm?"

"I'll be sweet when you earn it," he retorted, earning another laugh from Yeonjun.

"Fair enough. Is that what you're waiting for?"

"What?"

"For me to break up with Jiro. Before you admit what's been written all over your face this entire time."

It wouldn't do him any good to deny what had always been obvious.

"It wouldn't feel right," he eventually said quietly.

Yeonjun nodded. "You're a good guy. It's kind of annoying sometimes, but I get where you're coming from. So...what, you wouldn't even kiss me?"

Soobin realized what his body had been in anticipation of all this time. Still, "No," he confirmed. "I wouldn't."

He had never wanted anything so badly in his life. Perhaps his fetish was denying himself everything he craved. He could probably bring that to confessional.

Yeonjun tched but didn't seem surprised.

They were quiet for a while before Soobin remembered, "I got promoted today."

Yeonjun's body reacted instantaneously to the good news. He grabbed Soobin's arm tight, breathing, "Soobin-ah, that's wonderful! Congratulations."

Surprised by his intensity, he blinked a couple times, saying, "Uh, thanks."

Frowning, Yeonjun asked, "Why aren't you more excited?"

"I am excited."

"You don't look excited. Or sound excited."

"No, I genuinely am!" He waved his hands in front of him, warding off suspicion. "I just already celebrated in my head, that's all."

Yeonjun was still frowning. "Why celebrate in your head when you can celebrate out in the world?"

"Because that sounds like a lot of effort."

Soobin sat dumbfounded as Yeonjun aggressively ruffled his hair, taking out his frustration on him in the cutest way possible. "You deserve effort, Soobin-ah."

"Woah, this isn't a self-worth thing." He batted Yeonjun's hands away, desperately trying to fix the nest on his head. "I just already had a long day and I knew I was coming over to your place, which is plenty of stimulation for me."

"Yeah, but if you had told me I would have made you a nice dinner and gotten you a present."

"Well, we can do that tomorrow, then."

Yeonjun blinked, fire put on pause. "We...can?"

Soobin shrugged. "Sure. If it would make you happy."

"What would make you happy?"

He hesitated. "I assume that spending a day in my bedroom playing League of Legends and having no responsibilities is not an option."

He saw Yeonjun swallow the comment he wanted to make about his hobbies, instead readjusting with, "If...that's what you want. Then you should do that."

Soobin pursed his lips, then glanced out the window. "I'd rather hang out with you."

"What did you say? I couldn't hear you."

There was a chance he had mumbled.

"I would probably have more fun hanging out with you."

"Hm...that's not what you said the first time."

Soobin rested his head against the cool window glass, sighing. "That's basically what I said."

"No. You said you'd rather hang out with me. Is that true?"

"It won't be true if you keep trying to push my buttons."

"But they're so tempting."

Yeonjun himself was the most tempting thing in the car. Soobin wanted to bang his head against the window for clarity. They were friends. Almost friends again. Maybe.

He had no idea where they stood.

"There's still time for me to get takeout and cake."

"That sounds excessive."

"But it would be fun," he wheedled.

Cake...admittedly called to him. And if Yeonjun wanted to treat him with his big rockstar paycheck, Soobin would seem ungrateful by turning him down.

"Alright, but we're ordering in."

"Why? I can just drive over to-"

"You've been drinking."

Yeonjun looked confused, then glanced at his open beer bottle. "Oh, come on. Barely."

Soobin pointedly met his gaze. "It's my celebration, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Then get out your phone and order dinner. I'm starving."

To his surprise, Yeonjun just laughed and smiled. He wasn't used to Soobin asserting himself. "Okay. Whatever you want."

"Kimchi stew. And grilled meat. And cake."

"Sure, princess," he agreed as he got out his phone, black nails tapping away at his delivery app. "It should be here in around twenty minutes," he said once he was done, tucking his phone back into the dash compartment.

"We should probably head back, then."

"Probably."

Still, Yeonjun didn't move, sitting sideways in the driver's seat with his legs up, watching him. Yeonjun felt different in the darkness. During the day, he seemed languid and cynical, as if the sunlight itself sapped his energy. But at night, he came alive, intense enough for Soobin to feel his presence without him even saying a word. Sharp and observant, making him feel like some sort of lab rat under his gaze.

"Are you waiting for something?" Soobin decided to ask him directly instead of trying to hone his telepathic skills.

Yeonjun blinked, then glanced at himself in the rearview mirror before shaking his head. "No, I guess not. Am I allowed to drive back?"

Rather than roll his eyes, Soobin took his joke seriously. "Only if you go really slow."

It worked. Yeonjun glared at him, suddenly all fired up, remarking in annoyance, "I'm not drunk, Soobin."

He smiled once Yeonjun had resumed sitting properly and pressed the ignition. "I know. I'm just messing with you."

"Since when did you have the capacity to make jokes?"

Frowning, he said as they pulled out, "That's mean."

"Sorry."

"But not untrue. You're chilling me out, I think. It's not good."

Smiling to himself, Yeonjun backed out onto the street and remarked, "I think it's great."

Sighing, Soobin said, "At least I'm getting cake. If this is going to be a regular thing, you better start stocking more dessert."

"If I'd known all I had to do to get on your good side was to bribe you with sweets, I would have started a long time ago."

"Really?" Soobin asked as they pulled back into Yeonjun's garage.

Yeonjun parked and downed the last of his beer. "Sure. Would've been a lot easier than trying to read your mind."

"You seem to be just fine at that," he muttered.

"Yeah, but that took practice and effort. Bribery would've been a lot less exhausting."

"Say it was worth it, then, and maybe you'll be on my good side after all."

He expected Yeonjun to roll his eyes and scoff at him, but instead he just said sincerely, "It was worth it."

Soobin nodded even as he looked around for something to say next, processing the words that came out of his mouth. "Cool. Um..."

Yeonjun laughed at him and said, "Let's get inside. I'll give you the rest of the tour, and by the time we're done, the food should be here."

"Cool," he repeated, wondering why on earth Yeonjun still wanted to hang out with someone as boring as him, when he was a beautiful and delicate spirit, blessed with wit and opportunity and the strength to take advantage of everything that came his way. He was wasting his breath on someone like Soobin.

That sinking feeling had been part of the reason he let them drift away from one another so easily. It always felt like Yeonjun was destined for something greater than him, and Soobin would be holding him back. He wanted to let him run while he could. And selfishly, still Soobin had resented him for it.

Soobin clung on to that resentment for a long time- Yeonjun wasn't his only friend, but he was his closest. And he suddenly just disappeared from his side, leaving his ghost to taunt him all those years. He didn't hate Yeonjun for leaving. He hated him for leaving him in the dark, and emerging far out of his periphery as someone entirely new. So perhaps it was a stronger feeling than he gave himself credit for. He didn't want to believe that he could hate anyone.

But that feeling had faded over time. The bitter taste in his mouth lingered, though, and he knew that's what others heard every time a word about Yeonjun passed through his lips. His cadence was cautious, the tip of his tongue burnt and afraid of repeating the same mistakes.

He never thought that Yeonjun shared his same resentment. He knew he was the sole root of their polarization, unable to reckon with the person he had become. Unable to acknowledge that they had grown, not as two branches of the same tree, but two separate genera completely. They didn't share dreams or aspirations, or even lead lives that resembled one another's. And so it was easier to become strangers and bear the burden that came with such a choice than force their mismatched jigsaw pieces to align side by side.

Yet, Soobin appeared to have made that choice on his own. He was the reason they remained at a distance, phantoms passing each other by on Sunday mornings. Yeonjun may have left first, but Soobin cut the cloth that bound them together. And here Yeonjun was, more than happy to restitch it and all their wounds even while Soobin hesitated, wondering why Yeonjun would even care enough to hold the needle.

He had nothing to offer him, except for maybe the warmth of his presence on nights where Yeonjun felt alone. But that might be enough in this moment for both of them.

And so he trailed after him, back into Yeonjun's house with its clean floors and walls bearing the sign of the Lord, hoping his choice to walk down this diverging path would help him find the wordless salvation he sought.

...

Soobin and his mother came home from church the next Sunday morning to find Kai already outside the restaurant, texting beside his bike. They let him in and worked to open quickly as a line had already begun forming by the door. Despite trying to stay as far from the family business as possible, Soobin found himself working at least half a shift every week. It wasn't really sustainable on top of his other job, but the joy he got from being around his mother and around Kai trumped his exhaustion. He was proud of his mother and the success she had built over the past twenty years. Really, they had only just started to see the fruits of her labor.

Once they were open and the first tables had been seated, Soobin made himself a lemonade and took a seat at the counter, intending to rest for a moment before heading upstairs. But Kai had other plans, using the short lull to interrogate him.

"So," Kai leaned over the ordering counter, eyes alight with a bit of childlike mischief. "What's with you and Yeonjun-hyung?"

Cautious, Soobin simply replied, "What do you mean?" and took a sip of his lemonade.

"You went from not talking for years to hanging out all the time. What's up with that?"

"We don't hang out all the time."

"I've seen you with him four times in the last three weeks. Outside of your work. That's more than you hang out with anyone. Which for you, then, means all the time," Kai countered with a smug expression.

He had gone over to Yeonjun's place two more times since the first. And he supposed they had seen each other at shows, crossed paths in the park, and got coffee from time to time.

Added up all together like that, it must have looked suspicious. Soobin had been trying not to count the times, afraid of what it might reveal about his desperation.

Seeing where this was headed, at least in Kai's mind, Soobin muttered, "It's not a big deal. We reconciled our differences, I guess."

"That's a big way of saying you made up."

"There was nothing to fix." That would imply something had broken in the first place. It had parted momentarily, and they were working on sewing it back together. "Besides, he still gets on my nerves."

"I get on your nerves. We've been friends for years."

Soobin furrowed his brow, trying to argue his way out while preserving his nonchalance. He couldn't look like he cared too much. "It's different. Yeonjun...I shouldn't like him at all, honestly."

"Sure, if you don't like fun. Or talent. Or charisma. Or-"

"Yeah, yeah," Soobin waved his arbitrary list of all of Yeonjun's supposedly good qualities away. "You just have to get past his ego, and the constant sarcastic tone of his voice, and the way he always looks like he's looking down at me somehow even when I'm taller than him, and-"

"I think we know two different dudes," Kai stopped him, deadpan.

"He's probably a much different person with you than he is with me," he agreed. "Feel free to ask him yourself."

Kai sighed, rearranging the items on the counter. "I've already tried. He's not cracking."

Stifling the interest that piqued, he asked cautiously, "He didn't say anything about me?"

"He said you're annoying," Kai informed him all too happily. "But that he doesn't mind helping you write your article, and appreciates the rest of the group helping out too. That was it."

"That was it?"

They had spent hours together over the past few weeks. Not that they really talked about anything of significance, but he thought maybe Yeonjun would have let his thoughts slip a little more. Or maybe he was trying just as hard as Soobin to act like none of this meant anything at all.

"Were you expecting something else?" Scrutinizing him, Kai set his stack of napkins aside. "What do you want to hear?"

"Nothing," he quickly corrected. "I was just curious. If he's talking about me behind my back, I want to know."

"Hyung, he's twenty-four. Not fourteen. I think you need to get it in your head that you guys aren't teenagers anymore. He knows how to be mature."

"I've yet to see it," Soobin muttered, taking the stack of napkins Kai had abandoned and putting them in the holder. Yeonjun's lack of responsibility and self-preservation skills would likely be the death of both of them.

"Why do you want to hold a grudge so badly? It seems like Yeonjun-hyung's moved on just fine, but you can't get over what happened."

He sighed. "I'm not trying to hold a grudge. I just don't think...I don't know, maybe I'm more sensitive. Or maybe I felt worse about what happened than he did, so I'm having a harder time simply moving past it. And maybe that's my fault, and I should try to take responsibility for it. But Yeonjun isn't making it easy. He's driving me insane."

Kai frowned, leaning closer as if that would help him better understand Soobin's mind. "If he's driving you insane, why are you seeing him all the time?"

"Because he drives me insane if I see him, and even more insane if I don't!" Soobin burst out. "It's like..." It dawned on him, the words that just escaped from his mouth and he quickly covered it. "Forget it," he spoke through his hand. "Forget what I said. I didn't mean it like that."

The longer he abstained from seeing Yeonjun, the more intensely his image haunted him. He needed to satiate his desire by gazing upon him, hearing his voice, meditating in his presence. And those thoughts were dangerous- they painted him more and more vividly as Soobin's personal false idol.

Kai's eyes were wide as saucers, and he took a few seconds to recover, blinking before acknowledging, "I think..." he started, then switched tracks. "Don't beat yourself up over it. He has that effect on people. Half the time, he does it on purpose."

He could see right through Soobin. He knew he was slowly becoming obsessed.

"It's really not like that," Soobin insisted, the tips of his ears burning.

"Whatever it is, it's fine. But um...be careful...with it. Yeonjun-hyung's not the kind of person to...Anyways, he's just more sensitive than you think. I've never known him to be someone who messes with other people's feelings just for fun."

"There's no feelings," he muttered, half-wishing he was in the kitchen just so he could take his frustration out on some ground pork. "I'm sorry to drag you into my brain. I know it's scary in there."

"Better than Beomgyu's brain," Kai replied cheerfully, serious tone dropped. "He really scares me sometimes."

When thinking of Choi Beomgyu, Soobin's mind just conjured an image of the quiet guitarist with long hair and a cold gaze.

"Because he's quiet?"

Kai stared at him like he was crazy. "Because he's insane. What do you mean, quiet? He'll talk about literally anything. If he's silent during practice for longer than ten seconds, the whole band calls it a miracle."

Soobin returned his bewildered look. "That is so not the impression I got from him. I mean, he was a little playful with Yeonjun that one time, but that's about it."

"You'll see," Kai promised. "Next time you come, or something. He's putting it on for you, probably just to see if you'll buy it."

Soobin just shrugged. "Whatever you say, man. I think he's chill."

"He's psychotic."

"Have you considered that he's been messing with you this whole time?"

"Don't start trying to twist up my brain," Kai warned. "I don't want it to look anything like yours."

"Alright, alright," he backed off with a smile. "But what does it say about you if all of your friends are crazy?"

Kai hesitated, counting them on his fingers, and looking increasingly worried the longer he went. "Taehyun is...normal..."

He didn't sound like he believed himself.

"I think he's the most normal out of all of you," Soobin agreed. "But I've also only seen him wear a shirt once."

With a sheepish expression, Kai rubbed the back of his neck. "He just likes to feel free."

"He likes to show off his six-pack," Soobin corrected. "That implies a complex if you ask me."

Kai arbitrarily waved his conclusion away. "Don't you have something better to do? I need to get back to work."

He sighed, suddenly reminded of his responsibilities. "Yeah, I'm going to see a folk band in a couple hours. I should probably get a little writing done beforehand."

"Your job sounds miserable."

"I don't know why people keep saying that to me," Soobin replied, genuinely confused as he drank the last of his lemonade and poked the straw into the ice a couple of times. "I love my job."

"You just...sit there...and think." Kai looked bamboozled.

"Uh, yeah, I guess that's one way of putting it. I would way rather do that than wait tables."

"No way." Kai shook his head. "I get to move around and talk to people, and eat dinner for free after. It's the best. The laundromat sucks, though. I hate just standing at the counter and counting change."

"You need to move back out."

"I wish it were that easy." Then, Kai perked up, optimistically envisioning, "Maybe Yeonjun and Jiro will break up and he'll want a new roommate."

"I've been over to his place a few times now and never ran into the guy. I'm convinced he doesn't exist between the hours of six a.m. and midnight."

Kai nodded. "I've only been to Yeonjun-hyung's house a couple of times. The vibes are weird."

Curious, Soobin asked, "What do you mean?"

"It's just always felt...off to me, I don't know." Kai shrugged. "Like, it always smells really clean, and he's got Jesus stuff everywhere, but then you go in his room and it looks like somewhere a regular twenty-four year old would live. The only place I'm comfortable there is in his bedroom. The rest is...weird," he repeated, unable to find a better word.

Soobin frowned. "His house seems fine to me. It reminds me of his mom's, honestly. She's kind of obsessive about cleaning."

"Maybe that's where he gets it from, then," Kai conceded. "Nothing against him. I'm just not sure if we could actually be roommates."

"Well, if you guys get super famous, you can rent any place you'd like."

"That's the goal," he agreed with a sigh. "Alright, I've really got to get back to work. I'll catch you later."

"Good luck," Soobin cheered him on before sliding out of his seat at the counter, intent on following through on his word and writing a little before he was due out for the night once again.

This routine was exhausting -work all day, attend shows and interviews at night, squeeze in time to see Yeonjun for a couple hours in order to satisfy his craving- but he felt so alive doing it. Caffeine had very quickly become his best friend, and while objectively he knew his anxiety was getting worse, he felt less burdened by it somehow. Not having the cognitive function to spare on overanalyzing every single word that came out of his mouth must be offering him some relief, at the cost of overanalyzing internally, instead. He spent more time occupied within his own mind, staring out his office window, getting lost in his own thoughts, and every time he ended up back in the audience of some dark club, watching Yeonjun onstage.

His real memories were getting mixed with delusions, pictures of Yeonjun he had hallucinated, scenes he watched play out that never actually happened.

This combination of caffeine, insomnia, and overwhelming stimulation was dangerous but addicting. He wouldn't be able to stop anytime soon, and as long as the words he produced on the page remained coherent, he could keep this up a little longer.

He wasn't doing anything wrong. He was just taking a few risks for the first time in his life. And so far, they seemed to have paid off. He received a promotion at work and he made up with his best friend. Things were going well, and the only expense appeared to be his peace of mind, which he never had in the first place, anyway.

A few days ago, he had followed Yeonjun on Instagram. Not using his work account, obviously, but through his personal one. He had never been one for social media outside what was demanded by his job, having been told it exploited and encouraged the sin of vanity. But if he wasn't posting himself and just following other people, that wouldn't be sinful, right? He wasn't seeking attention or validation.

He was just seeking another way to see Yeonjun when their time together expired.

And while they grew up being warned of the same risky behaviors, Yeonjun didn't care. He had apparently amassed two million followers, far more than the band itself. And Soobin could understand why.

He used his platform as a fashion diary, uploading pictures of the adventurous and often risqué outfits he wore, photographed on the streets of Seoul, in alleyways, in front of neon lights, and backstage of the shows he played. Many of his uploads featured friends clinking glasses, dancing onstage, or meeting up outside venues. He looked like a different person, exuding the carefree aura of a celebrity with nothing to fear, posing effortlessly, radiating a sort of rebellious allure Soobin didn't see from him in real life, maybe because he knew him too well. He also had a few sponsored posts from jewelry and fashion brands, shot professionally and endorsed by him in the caption. He must be making good money, but he was clearly still hungry for more, and he uploaded almost daily.

His fame seemed so much more palpable through this platform, putting into scope just how successful he had truly become. And the more Soobin stared at his follower count, the harder he found it to believe no one in their congregation knew his secret. Were they really all so sheltered from the outside world?

Soobin hadn't religiously begun stalking his account, or anything. He checked from time to time. Maybe once a day. Or twice, when he woke up and when he went to bed. Yeonjun always posted either when the sun was rising or during the dead of night. Soobin had tried to find pictures from that club they were talking about last time, the one Kai didn't want to go to, but came up empty. That night was conveniently left out of his posts. It was probably for the best.

Still, he let himself check it again now, in between moments, and was surprised to see Yeonjun had posted. It was a dark shot of his dining table, full of lit melting red candles. He and Jiro were clinking glasses full of red wine over it, a red velvet cake between them. Yeonjun sat with his legs crossed, dressed in a black slip with his makeup running. His long hair was disheveled and his silver cross gleamed in the candlelight, which illuminated the bruises on his throat. Jiro sat opposite him, leaning against the table in an unmarked hoodie and a rare smile on his face. A painting of the Last Supper presided over their affair on the far wall.

Soobin stared at the picture long enough to notice the corner of the Ouija board on the far side of the table and the dozens of discarded scraps of paper littering the floor. Yeonjun's red rosary beads hung over the edge in front of the cake. The caption just read: happy birthday.

Their celebration looked like something out of a horror movie. But they both also seemed strangely happy, for once enamored with each other, and it made Soobin's stomach turn. He didn't know what had happened to Yeonjun to make him look like such a mess, and the longer he stared at Jiro, the more unsettled he became.

He was the least remarkable man Soobin had ever seen. Nothing distinct about him. He could blend into a crowd anywhere, and Soobin forgot what he looked like the second he glanced away. What on earth did Yeonjun see in him? And why was he so averse to talking about it?

Feeling nauseous and confused, Soobin exited the app and put his phone down. A few seconds passed by. And then he couldn't resist the temptation that came over him.

Tell your boyfriend happy birthday from me

Yeonjun didn't text him back. Frustrated, Soobin put his phone down for real this time, instead walking over to his desk and trying to put it out of his mind. He had too much work to do.

He wrote for four hours, words swimming behind his eyes, and by the time he was finished, the sun had started to set. He needed to eat something and get ready to leave. But he allowed himself to check his phone once, only to see that Yeonjun had replied half an hour ago.

Are you stalking me, darling?

Your insta is public

Never thought you'd be interested enough to look

Maybe you don't know me as well as you think

For some reason, sending that text excited him, wondering if it were true.

:)

maybe I don't. Jiro says thanks

I've got more words for him if you want

You're so cute

How was the party

Quiet. Just the two of us

He didn't invite his ten other boyfriends?

No this one was just for me

Lucky you

you have no idea

He hated the sound of that.

I probably don't want to know. I'm heading out to see a show. You wanna meet up tomorrow?

Not sure what my day will be like, I'll text you once I'm out of the studio

Sounds good

He didn't like the floaty noncommittal nature of Yeonjun's responses. He sounded far away, not in the present moment at all. But there was nothing Soobin could do to ground him from here, and so he just had to to trust his word, and hope he checked back in with him tomorrow.

...

His fears proved to be founded. He never ended up texting the next day. In fact, it had been a few days since he last heard from Yeonjun at all. His last text messages went unread. If Soobin knew he had read them, he wouldn't stress it. Yeonjun wasn't obligated to reply. But the fact that he hadn't opened them at all planted a seed of worry in the pit of his stomach.

Kai confirmed that he'd been MIA all week. They had a few practices scheduled that he never showed up to, and only Taehyun had gotten a short text saying he was taking a couple of days off and he'd meet them for rehearsal before their next show.

That clued everyone in that he was alive, at the very least. Though, it still wasn't very reassuring.

Soobin had even stopped by his mom's house on his way back from the corner store, but she told him through the sleepy haze in her eyes and the overwhelming scent of disinfectant that he hadn't been home since Sunday, and then asked him to make sure Yeonjun gave her a call that night.

Which would have been possible if only he could figure out where he was hiding.

He had been to Yeonjun's place twice, but the front gate was locked tight.

Finally, he called and left a voicemail, stating plainly, "I'm going to report you missing if you don't call me back. And write an article about it. And sell it to the Daily Mail, all exclusive details included."

His threat apparently worked.

He was sitting at his desk, working on the first draft of his article for the indie band he'd gone out to see the night before, when his phone screen lit up with an incoming call.

When it read Yeonjun in bold white letters, he felt a drop of relief flood through his system.

He quickly swiped to answer, "Hey."

"Hey."

"Where are you?"

"Around. I didn't go anywhere. I don't know why you guys are freaking out."

"You've been at home this entire time?"

"No. I've just been going on walks."

"You've been...going on walks...for the past three days?"

"Pretty much. I need a shower, though. So, I'll be back home tonight."

Soobin tried to sound calm and collected as he asked, "Where are you now?"

"Cemetery in our district. You know the one up in the hills?"

He frowned. "That old derelict one?"

"Yeah. The seniors always said it was haunted. I don't think there are ghosts, though. Just lonely dudes."

"You've grown into the ghosts you were afraid of as a kid."

"Guess so," Yeonjun agreed. "If you're coming by, could you bring me a coffee?"

Soobin rolled his eyes. "Diva. You make me worry for three days then have the nerve to place a drink order."

"Hey, divas aren't made, we're born this way. Not my fault. So...is that a yes or a no?"

"Yes, Yeonjun, I will bring you a coffee. If you stay put."

"I will stay right here, sir. And patiently await my drink."

"If I had any sense, I'd let you wait there all day."

"You'd cry thinking about me waiting here through the night by myself for a man who never planned on showing up."

"I don't like the sound of that guy," he agreed. "I'll see you in half an hour."

Soobin found him sitting on the edge of the old well, one leg up on the cracked stone, hugging his knee and staring at the bleeding skyline. He had on a too-thin black sweater over a skin-tight tank top, and his jeans were old and fraying at the seams.

His eyes were cold and distant, a darkness draining them that only he could see.

Yeonjun noticed him approach. That bitter gaze flicked to Soobin for just a second, then down at his shadow, before returning to the trees.

He was colder than Soobin expected from how he had sounded on the phone. Maybe something had crept its way inside in the time it took him to get here, or maybe he had been putting on a show for him, too.

He didn't want to shatter Yeonjun's frigid peace with the bombardment of questions he knew he was expecting. So, Soobin kept walking, setting Yeonjun's drink down as he went, past the well, over to the field of chipped headstones and sagging wooden crosses. The ground beneath him felt dead. Frosted over and unresponsive save for the brittle snapping of grass and leaves. He expected to feel on edge, as if wandering over restless spirits. Instead, this place felt sapped of energy, more dead than the concrete city or even the old park Yeonjun had taken him to in September.

Eventually, he wound up back at the well. Yeonjun hadn't moved, still watching the sky with narrowed eyes and big pupils. This time, though, he spared Soobin a longer glance, then looked down at the drink he'd brought as if seeing it for the first time.

"This place doesn't feel right," Soobin murmured as he came to sit beside him.

"It's one of the first Christian cemeteries ever built in the country. It's a couple of centuries old. All the spirits have probably long moved on."

Yeonjun said it with a straight face, and Soobin glanced at him curiously. "You don't think they went to Heaven when they died?"

He shrugged. "I've always felt kind of iffy about that. A lot of people died before the concept of the Christian Heaven even existed. At least in writing. So...did they end up in Heaven anyway? Or has death always been this elusive lonely thing that we try to ease the burden of with stories?"

"I think if you stopped believing in Heaven...well, you'd have to rethink a lot of things."

"What do you think?"

"I think those that lived without sin or atoned for their sins before death went to Heaven, of course. Even if the Bible hadn't been written yet."

"Of course," Yeonjun repeated with a wry little smile. "Then what about Hell?"

It made him uncomfortable to think about, but he answered honestly. "The same thing. I think those who sinned and lived with sin until death carried that with them and went to Hell."

"You think I can send postcards from Hell? Like, up to you and my mom and everyone in Heaven? Maybe with scenic fiery torture pits and demonic endorsements on them."

Soobin felt a deep frown take over his face. "That's not funny."

"Am I blaspheming?"

"A little bit."

"Sorry."

He was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I don't think you're going to Hell, Yeonjun."

"Oh? Why the sudden change in heart?"

"I never-" He stopped, reflecting on his past and how he'd behaved around Yeonjun the past few years. "Okay, maybe I acted like I thought that. But it wasn't...it wasn't ever about you. It was about me and how I didn't understand you anymore, and the fact that that scared me."

"You didn't understand me because you thought I was sinning."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Which wasn't untrue."

"Now that I'm a little older and I've seen you, and your life, I think it's more complicated, though."

"How?"

Soobin struggled with the desire to find the right words while still answering conversationally. "I think...the concept of sin is more nuanced than they teach us as children. We learn that drinking for indulgence is a sin, but why? Because it's selfish? Because it can lead to destructive behavior? But what if it doesn't? Shouldn't something only be worthy of damnation if it causes harm to people? Nonmarital sex is a sin, but is anyone being hurt by it if the people involved are responsible? I think I had a knee-jerk reaction to these things because that's what we're taught. But thinking critically about it...I see the intended message, but I also see the harm it causes. Like it has for you. Someone I know who has a good heart and a kind spirit. You think you're damned and there's nothing you can do about it because that's what was ingrained in you as a child. And I just...think it's unfair," he finished sort of lamely, but still hoped his point got across.

"Soobin-ah, in comparison to your spirit, mine is tarnished silver at best."

"There's no point in comparing. I could bring up a list of a thousand reasons why I should be just as damned. But it still wouldn't change your mind."

"No," Yeonjun acknowledged. "It probably wouldn't."

"You're a good person, hyung."

"You think that now." Yeonjun rested his chin on his knee, gaze still fixed on the distant skyline. "Because you feel like you have to."

"Why would I ever feel obligated to think that?"

Yeonjun sighed. "I could spell it out and have you deny it, or let it be. I think I'm going to choose the second thing."

"What, you think because I find you attractive that I have to justify your personality to myself?" Soobin pushed over the line Yeonjun drew, considering it was his assumptions on the line anyway. Once again, it wasn't like they both weren't painfully aware of the elephant in the room. Or rather, the elephant spirit drifting aimlessly through the cemetery. "You give my morality way too much credit. I thought you were hot long before I thought you were a good person. Actually, it was easier to think you were hot and awful because then my brain could compartmentalize it and tell myself you weren't worth the frustration. Now it can't. So..."

"Soobin, you so easily give up secrets that couldn't even be pulled from me on my deathbed."

"I don't believe in secrets," he admitted. He didn't feel as embarrassed as he thought he would, spelling out plainly how he felt. He knew Yeonjun wouldn't reciprocate his obvious attraction, and he didn't expect him to. That wasn't the point he was trying to make. "They complicate everything. Besides, I'm not going to pretend like you can't read my mind. You've always been able to do that."

"You poor thing," Yeonjun murmured, but Soobin's breath hitched in his throat when he laid his head down on his shoulder. He wasn't too heavy. A weight Soobin could bear, though his earrings felt cold against his shoulder, holding the breath of winter inside their twisted metal.

"Why are you feeling sympathy for me?"

"Because. I would hate to have someone like me reading my mind all the time."

"I wish I could read your mind."

Yeonjun turned his cheek in so he was breathing against Soobin's shoulder for a moment, almost as if nuzzling against his jacket before mumbling, "I promise you don't want to." He could feel his lips move through the fabric.

"No? What's going on in there?"

"Parasites," he breathed out. "All kinds of them. Siphoning my dreams, my memories, and whatever else I have left." Then, he straightened up, picking up his coffee from where Soobin had left it. Like a flip had switched, he appeared recovered. "Thanks for this, by the way. I was kidding."

"About the parasites?"

"No. About bringing me coffee. I didn't think you'd actually do it."

"You have really low expectations of me. If you ask me for something, I'll do it for you. Isn't that normal?"

Yeonjun frowned, swirling his straw. "Maybe. I guess...I never thought of it that way."

"You would do the same for me."

"I don't know if I would."

Soobin desperately wanted to roll his eyes now where Yeonjun could see, but instead just sighed. "Here you go again."

"What?"

"Just take a compliment. Actually, it's not even a compliment. It's just an acknowledgment that you're a decent person when you try."

"That's the problem," Yeonjun said, then took a sip of his coffee. "I rarely try."

"If it makes you feel better to think of yourself like that, sure."

"You don't believe me."

Soobin pulled up his legs to sit cross-legged on the well. It took some maneuvering but they fit eventually. "Of course I don't believe you. I see you do the opposite of what you're saying all the time. But you don't want to hear it from me, so I'll stop repeating myself."

Yeonjun was the one to sigh this time, and he leaned over to set his coffee down on the ground. With his hands free, he shifted sideways, and Soobin quickly moved his own hands out of the way when he realized Yeonjun was laying down in his lap.

When he looked up at the sky like that, the night washed his face in twilight, bringing out the blue tones in his skin and the grey from the black in his eyes. He could see his veins. Soobin carefully brushed his bangs out of his eyes. Though soft, they were black and lifeless.

"You're right," he murmured. "You do need a shower."

"Fuck off," Yeonjun replied, but he could feel him laughing. Then, he added, "You could take it with me if you want."

"Not in a million years," Soobin rebounded with a sweet smile. "Even if I did shower with you, you'd rope me into helping you with your sugar scrub, or something. It would be all work."

"You'd get a nice reward."

"You are such a pervert."

"What?" Yeonjun whined, blinking up at him from his lap. "Can't a guy just want to make jokes about sleeping with you all the time?" His heart skipped a beat and he prayed Yeonjun couldn't feel it. "What's perverted about that?"

"You're joking right now, right?"

"Obviously. Punch me when I cross a line."

"Hyung, you've crossed all the lines."

"Darling, there are lines you haven't even conceptualized. So many lines. Just waiting to be crossed."

"That...is probably true," he admitted.

Yeonjun's eyes eventually fluttered shut, and Soobin almost thought he had fallen asleep until he asked, "You want to crash at my place tonight?"

He took a couple of seconds to consider it. The cons definitely outweighed the pros. "I don't have anything with me besides my work stuff. I came straight here from the office."

"You can borrow some of my clothes. We're not that different in size."

He frowned. "We're very different in size."

"Soobin-ah, you don't always have to brag about how tall and sexy you are. I know very well, as another tall and sexy guy. We're the same size. Clothes just fit us differently."

"Alright," he reluctantly agreed. "But we're showering separately."

"I guess I can let that slide."

"You're so benevolent," he muttered, still carding his fingers through Yeonjun's flat hair. If it were anyone else laying there, he knew he would have kept his hands to himself. But he couldn't help it. It felt like Yeonjun needed his reassurance, that Soobin provided his mind with clarity by soothing his head and offering him somewhere to rest. "You know, my parents are going to wonder where I am if I stay with you."

"Tell them, then. They know me."

Soobin...had never considered letting it be so simple. "Oh. I guess I could do that."

"No need to overcomplicate your whole life, Bin-ah," Yeonjun said with an exhale, eyes closed, allowing himself to feel at peace for just a moment.

"I guess not."

He ran his fingers through his hair again. Yeonjun had overcomplicated his life more than anything else. A catalyst event, the meteoric eclipse of his trajectory, but apparently he was the one overcomplicating. He smiled to himself. It was sort of funny. Yeonjun, the swirling storm of chaos, a magnet for trouble and outlet for riots telling him to simplify his life. It made him wonder how he looked in Yeonjun's eyes, if he seemed like just as much of a mess in a drastically different way. He had never reflected on it before. But he liked to think that their flaws aligned, and somehow, through his actions, Soobin could help him if he just kept trying.

...

He went to Yeonjun's place again the next night. He couldn't say why. He knew it was a bad idea, and still he went. Yeonjun drew him in, admittedly this time not with any sort of pretense. He just knew the way to Soobin's heart.

Are you working?

The text came while he sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen with red eyes and ringing in his ears. When he checked the clock, it told him he should've left two hours ago along with most of the office. But instead, he sat there with half the lights off, willing some sort of inspiration to strike.

Unfortunately

It's way too late. Come by my place

Wouldn't that keep me out later?

It's on your way. I already ordered food

His stomach growled at the thought.

What kind of food?

Fried chicken and tteokbokki

You ordered junk

And yet you're enticed. Whether by the food or something else, that's none of my business

Did you get dessert?

He would not be dignifying the rest of Yeonjun's text.

I got bingsoo

Soobin clutched his phone to his chest and began to seriously contemplate his options. Yeonjun had answered everything perfectly so far, but there was no way he would nail each contingency. He wasn't that detail-oriented. He didn't pay that much attention to him...Did he?

What kind of bingsoo?

Fruit. I know you don't like the chocolate as much

"Crap," he muttered to himself out loud.

How did you know?

Soobin, I've known you since you were born. You might have grown and changed but your tastebuds haven't

Insulting but not wrong. And his words only began to cement the very real concern Soobin began to have that, not only was Yeonjun extremely sexy, but he might just be the kind of guy Soobin liked...as a person.

Which would be very dangerous for both of them. Yeonjun, because he definitely didn't have the capacity to deal with Soobin's feelings towards him, and Soobin, because he should know better than to feel that way about Yeonjun of all people.

A good first step in creating boundaries would be refusing to go over to his place tonight.

I'll see you in twenty

Take your time

He sighed, shut his laptop, and fit it into his work bag. He flicked his desk lamp off, immediately plunging the rest of the office floor into darkness. He didn't even notice everyone else leaving earlier. They had turned the lights off on him and everything. But when he checked the time, he supposed it made sense. Eleven had already come around and had its foot out the door.

If anything, he at least looked like a hard worker, when in reality he just had nothing better to do. The lights in the elevator still remained on, thankfully, but even reception had gone home and the red lights of the security system blinked from the corners of the atrium. A scan from his lanyard let him out without setting off the alarm, and the second he stepped foot outside, his breath materialized into ice crystals in front of him.

Still, he had his padded jacket on, so he just shoved his hands in the pockets and made his way down the steps and onto the sidewalk. A few people lingered out and about, but for the most part, the streets lay quiet.

It seemed like another stroke of misfortune that the ride to Yeonjun's place from his office building was short, and the walk he needed to do was well-lit. Despite the cold, he didn't mind so much knowing he wouldn't be out for long. The circumstances gave Soobin little to no incentive to protest, or even have a valid excuse not to go. And Soobin could always catch a ride home.

When he made the turn down Yeonjun's street, the lights trimmed down to half and the people disappeared completely.

The entire world had gone quiet, and when Soobin glanced up at the sky, he blinked in surprise when he was met with wetness.

Confused, he held out his hand, but what drifted into his palm wasn't rain.

It was snow.

As soon as he realized that, his heart skipped a beat. He would be sharing the first snow of the year with Yeonjun.

Hopefully he wasn't the kind of guy who would read into it too much.

When he tried the front gate, he found it unlocked, and so he let himself in but knocked at the door.

It took a few moments, but Yeonjun eventually appeared on the other side and let him in, but not before peering into the darkness and remarking, "Oh. It's snowing."

His gaze lingered a second too long on the sky above before slowly falling to Soobin's face.

"Yeah," Soobin agreed, stepping into the warm dim light of the entryway and taking off his shoes. "I wonder if it's going to last long."

"Probably not." Yeonjun took his bag from him, freeing Soobin's hands to slide his coat off. "It's only October." He hung up his coat and bag, then said, "Food's keeping warm in the oven. Are you hungry now?"

"Maybe in like twenty minutes? I need to check a few files that I wasn't able to finish reviewing at work."

"Do you need your computer?"

"No, they're shared to my phone."

"Okay." He followed Yeonjun into the hall and through to his living room, where Yeonjun's own laptop sat open on the coffee table next to a notebook on its last page and another closed notebook Soobin recognized as Yeonjun's sketchbook. He averted his gaze from the dining table once he checked that it was clean of everything he had seen in that photo on Jiro's birthday. Yeonjun looked so normal now in comparison, in just a white tank and sweatpants. Face mostly clean except for some liner around his eyes, piercings out, cross against his chest. Nothing like the superstar image he portrayed online. "What were you working on?"

"Songwriting. And then when I got bored of that, I started sketching ideas for album covers."

"Your job is cool," Soobin decided as he sat on the couch and fished out his phone.

"It's barely a job."

"Pays your bills, doesn't it?"

Yeonjun glanced around at the walls and ceiling making up his place to live and replied, "Yeah, I still haven't figured out quite how, though."

Soobin navigated to his files app, opening the folder he'd managed to download to his shared cloud before leaving the office.

"What kind of files are you working on, corporate slave?"

He didn't have the energy reserved to glare at him, and he wasn't that wrong, anyway. "Well, I was told to take video clips of all the shows I went to for internal reference. That way it's easier to send them to the entertainment critics. There's not really any use for them in my articles, unless I want to link to Youtube or something. But I need to convert them to smaller sizes in order to get them to a transferrable byte amount."

"Fascinating." He almost sounded genuine. "Do you have videos of me?" The couch dipped as he rested his knee on the other cushion.

"Uh, yeah. Not a ton, but I've taken a couple each time I've gone." He pulled up the last video he took on the first night he watched him perform. The other two were probably too shaky.

"Let me see," Yeonjun murmured, crawling onto the couch not so much alongside him but on top of him, tucking his chin over Soobin's shoulder to peer at his phone screen.

He felt himself freeze under the warmth of Yeonjun's bare skin pressed against his back, the softness of his clean hair on his cheek, the way his hand held loosely onto his side.

Soobin didn't even have a case to protest considering the video was of Yeonjun himself. It would look weirder to blush and hide.

"That shirt's too small." He observed himself passing quiet judgment, seeing things from an outsider's perspective, but having his own thoughts from that moment, too. "I had a lot of fun that night, but I was really nervous."

"Why?"

"The band that played before us? Apparently they're pretty good. More popular, too. I don't know why we were slated to go after. Some of their fans were pissed about it, like we were disrespecting them. I wanted to make sure we put on a quality show. So it didn't seem like we didn't deserve to be there."

"All of your shows are quality."

"Some more than others," Yeonjun said, absentmindedly rubbing up and down the line of Soobin's torso, creating chills in his wake. "It's unfortunately just the nature of the game. A lot of factors go into making a perfect night. Getting the crowd into it is half the battle. You lose that, well...the rest sort of stops being fun. I'm up there to entertain people, not myself. If that's what I was into, I'd just stick to posting on Instagram or something. I like the energy from the audience. I thrive off of it, honestly. Anyway," he brought his hand up to Soobin's head, ruffling his hair before standing back up. "I'll bring the food out to you. Work on whatever you need to."

Soobin hesitated, then clicked his phone off. "I don't need to do this right now."

"Whatever you say." Yeonjun drifted off towards the kitchen, and Soobin trailed behind, ready to be a pair of helping hands. The chicken was still hot- Yeonjun had expertly wrapped it and kept it warm in the oven, alongside the tteokbokki containers. They brought everything out to the living room and set it up on the coffee table. Yeonjun closed his laptop and pushed it aside along with his notebooks. "You want something to drink?"

"You have anything that's non-alcoholic?"

"Bottled tea. Hot tea." Yeonjun frowned, thinking, before he added, "Orange juice?"

"What are you drinking?"

He gave him a look that read What do you think?

"I'll take cold tea, then. Barley, or green, or whatever you have."

"Jasmine?"

"Sure."

When Yeonjun returned from the kitchen, he had a short glass of whiskey in one hand and a bottle with a green label in the other. Soobin couldn't help but notice the label was all written in Japanese.

"Is your boyfriend going to be mad that I'm drinking his tea?"

"My boyfriend's never going to come home and notice, he's too busy getting high," Yeonjun snorted, handing it over, and Soobin accepted it with a shrug.

"I thought you guys were on good terms now."

"We're never on good terms."

"So what was his birthday about, then?"

Yeonjun shrugged. "Obligation."

"What, you felt like you had to celebrate?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Sounds miserable."

Yeonjun set his glass down and rather than join him on the couch, brought a pillow down to sit on the floor. "I'm not that worried about it." The same mantra he always repeated.

Soobin frowned, picking up his chopsticks. "It's your relationship, isn't it? Don't you want things to work?"

"They've never worked. You're investing more in it right now than either of us ever had."

"Why are you together, then?"

"I feel like we've been through this."

"I mean, we have, I just don't get it. Is it really just about sex and shared trauma?"

That's what Kai had told him.

Yeonjun blinked at him over the giant piece of chicken between his chopsticks, mouth already half full. He bit and chewed before replying, "Yeah, pretty much."

"Hyung, there are so many other guys."

"Sure, but they're all pieces of shit. We all are. So why trade one for another? That sounds like a lot of work."

"Okay," Soobin pulled the container of tteokbokki closer to himself. Usually, he wasn't a big eater but it tasted really good. "What are his redeeming qualities?"

"I didn't know I was signing up for an interrogation when I invited you over," he remarked instead.

"I'm just curious."

"A little too curious."

"You want me to drop it?"

"Kind of."

He sighed. "Fine." Reluctantly, he added, "The food is really good. Thank you."

Yeonjun took a piece of tteokbokki from his cup. "It's no problem. I figured if you were out this late, you hadn't eaten. I think that should be illegal, by the way."

"No one forced me to stay. I got caught up working. It's not like I had anywhere else to be."

"If it were me working like that, with nothing worth coming home to, I'd feel like life was just passing me by. I mean, I feel that way anyways because I drink, but it's different."

Soobin exhaled, chopsticks suspended in the air. "Yeah. It does sort of feel like that. There are worse things, though."

"That there are," Yeonjun agreed, tipping his glass in Soobin's direction and taking a drink. "Honestly, I think as long as a person is fulfilled, it doesn't really matter what they do. We should spend our lives doing whatever we want. No reason to care about what other people think."

"Even the people you respect?"

"You can respect someone's opinion and still not apply it to yourself. We're all just useless flesh sacks trying to make the most of our time on the plane of suffering."

Soobin felt momentarily put off his chicken. "Ew." Still, he replied, "If this is really the battlegrounds of judgment, you know, the aimless drifting of mortality towards salvation or sin, it's not so bad. God gave us fried chicken."

"Sure, to make up for the hundred years of physical and emotional scarring he wants to sadistically watch each and every one of us endure. Sick fuck."

"You don't hate God," Soobin murmured, knowing Yeonjun's words came from a place of bitter anger. He could feel that painting of the Last Supper watching them, Jesus surrounded by his disciples, knowing the fate that awaited him.

"No. I don't hate God. I just hate the things he's happy to sit back and watch from on high."

"I don't think he's happy about it."

"He's God," Yeonjun stated flatly. "If he wasn't, he wouldn't have made the world this way."

"It's made this way to teach us and guide us towards the next life."

"Well, considering this is the only life I know, all I've learned is how to shut up and take it."

"What's so bad about your life, Yeonjun? You've got a place to live, food, friends, and family."

Yeonjun went quiet, and for just a second, maybe he almost considered telling him. But instead, he just said, "It's not my life that's miserable. It's my fucking head messed up from everything it's seen and the disgusting broken state of the world. It could be worse," he agreed. "I just get tired of living with it, sometimes." Then, he faked a tight-lipped smile. "No biggie, though. Helps me write music."

"Hyung..."

"No, seriously. It's all good. I'm venting. You know I love God and the miracle of life, or whatever, more than anyone."

"You're not really filling me with confidence."

"Sorry." He sounded genuinely apologetic, head ducked in a rare display of sheepishness. "We can talk about anything you want."

"Then tell me about your boyfriend." Soobin tried to be nice, but his stubbornness won out.

Yeonjun sighed, then shoved another piece of chicken in his mouth, clearly trying to buy time. He was forcing him to choose the lesser of two evils.

"What do you like about him?" he pushed. Anything would satisfy him at this point, as long as it helped him understand why Yeonjun wanted to keep the guy in his life. "And it can't have anything to do with his body."

"Bullheaded and demanding. Okay." Yeonjun said it through a half-full mouth, and swallowed before continuing. "He's...charming, I guess. Good at talking. Good at drinking. Um...he used to be a musician. Gave up on it and sort of rides on our success, but it's not a big deal. He's a dancer now. Part of a crew that's mostly outsourced by idols and movies. I met him a few years ago. We didn't start dating until I was twenty-two, though."

"Does your mom know?"

"No. She thinks he's a friend. We both prefer it that way."

"Sure." While Soobin wasn't sure Yeonjun preferred it that way, he could understand why pretending would be easier. "Why'd you start dating?"

Yeonjun shrugged. "I guess it was my fault." What a strange way to phrase it. "I wanted exclusivity. I didn't like the thought of him getting with a different guy every night. Not that dating actually changed anything. He's got the number of every twink in Seoul at this point."

"Why wouldn't you break up with him if he cheats?"

"It used to piss me off. We fought all the time and he never changed. It was apparently fine for him to cheat, but when I tried to compromise by asking for an open relationship -not that I even wanted it, but at least I would feel less left in the dark- he flew off the handle. And then he...agreed. And now we're just kind of...stuck. There's no reason to break up. We're both technically getting what we want."

"There's no reason to stay together."

"Being alone is...lonely."

"You're not alone, though. You've got great friends."

Yeonjun shook his head. "It's not the same when they're your coworkers. We do everything except live together. So coming home to an empty place feels extra lonely."

Soobin didn't want to keep pointing out the cracks in his logic, but he couldn't help himself. "Your place is still empty. I don't know if you've noticed, but your 'boyfriend' isn't here."

"Why do you think I keep inviting you over?"

When Soobin froze, Yeonjun was quick to do damage control.

"Not to fill his place," he immediately supplemented. "But...I'm lonely. And you warm the place up. I like hanging out with you, and I don't work with you. So it makes me happy when you're here."

He couldn't remember the last time Yeonjun said something made him happy, let alone that Soobin made him happy, and felt the back of his neck heat up. "Oh. Well...it's nice for me, too. I don't usually go anywhere besides work and home, except for Kai's place sometimes. And your house is really conveniently located. Kind of serendipitous."

Yeonjun set his chopsticks down, having eaten his fill. "Would you still come if it wasn't convenient?"

He loved littering little traps like that throughout their conversations. Soobin liked to think he'd gotten better about tripping into them.

"Sure. Probably not as often, but if you asked, I'd be there."

Yeonjun fell silent, then murmured, "You're really nice, Soobin," before gathering his dishes and getting to his feet. "Are you done?"

"Uh, yeah." He went to stand and help, but Yeonjun waved a hand at him and scooped up his dishes, too.

"I've got it."

Usually, Soobin would protest but he got the feeling Yeonjun was trying to do a nice thing for him, so he stayed put, and just mumbled, "Thanks."

After he finished cleaning up, Yeonjun poured himself another drink and sat on his living room floor with the bottle. Curious, Soobin hesitated for a moment before coming to sit beside him.

"Couch stopped being good enough for you?"

"It's good to sit on the floor sometimes." Yeonjun knocked back his drink, then filled the glass again. "Helps ground you. If you get down on the earth's level, it stops your world from spinning out of control."

"You always seem to end up on the floor when you drink," he observed, remembering what he was like when they turned nineteen, and Yeonjun decided to get drunk on his birthday. That was his first indication that they were intrinsically different.

"Yeah, but if I put myself there on purpose, it's classy. Now, if I were to trip and end up here out of my own free will, that would be embarrassing."

"So you're beating fate to the punch?"

Yeonjun nodded approvingly. "Exactly like that." He downed another glass. He was going through them quickly now, like he wanted the alcohol to actually do something for once instead of just drinking to keep his mouth busy.

"If you keep taking shots, I'm going to leave," Soobin told him straight up, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of his intoxication. It wouldn't be good for either of them. He almost wished Yeonjun was a mean drunk because the reality was so much worse.

Yeonjun raised his eyebrows, but it was clear that he didn't buy Soobin's bluff. "When I start slurring my words, you can just lock me in my room. Or lock me out and sleep on my bed. I won't care at that point, I'll just crash here."

"Your slurred speech is usually accompanied by worse side effects."

"Like what?"

He knew. He just wanted to hear what Soobin thought of his drunk alter ego. They had never talked about it before.

"Like compliments," he replied, wrinkling his nose. "And cooing. And touching. And just being generally way too happy. Until you cry, because you're so overcome by happiness and love for the world."

Yeonjun bumped his shoulder with his own, but he was smiling. "C'mon, you haven't seen me drunk since I was nineteen. I'm better now."

"Based on what Kai's told me, I think you're lying."

"Okay, fine," he surrendered, then said, "But I don't think it's such a bad thing. At least since I have to be so miserable when I'm sober, God has rewarded me with a painless escape and a pleasant demeanor." Taking a sin as a reward from God was shockingly blasphemous, but Soobin knew not to expect any better these days.

"That's a really nice way of saying you're an alcoholic."

"I'm an alcoholic who's nice to be around," Yeonjun corrected him, pointing at Soobin with the hand holding his glass. "It could be worse." But he set his drink down, and instead pulled the notebook he'd been working in earlier towards him. "I've got to finish this by the end of the week."

"Why the rush?"

"My manager has a habit of saying 'Show up on this day ready to record' and just assuming I have a song on-hand. Thankfully, Beomgyu usually does have a track already mocked up that he worked on with Kai at some point. I just have to put words to it. And if I'm completely useless, Taehyun can salvage the situation."

"Sounds stressful."

"That's just life, I think. Ugh, I don't want to think about it any more, though."

"You don't have to," Soobin reassured him, deciding to sit cross-legged on the floor by his side. He carefully pried his notebook from his hands, setting it back on the table. "You told me you don't write drunk. It can wait."

Yeonjun rubbed his face, clearly trying to wake himself up. His eyes were half-lidded, cheeks puffy. He must not be sleeping well. "That rule gets harder to follow every day."

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm drunk all the time. Which means I'm not writing at all."

"Well, maybe cut back, then," Soobin suggested. "No point in starting tonight, though."

"How am I supposed to do that?" he complained. "It's the only way I fall asleep."

"What's keeping you up?"

"Anxiety. Night terrors. Sunrise."

"So...you're trying to sedate yourself through it?"

Yeonjun poured another drink. "Bingo."

"Have you tried addressing the root of the problem instead of just looking for coping mechanisms?"

Narrowing his eyes, Yeonjun asked, "Since when were you my therapist?"

"Since never, hopefully." He wasn't qualified for this. "But it probably wouldn't hurt you to see one."

Yeonjun sighed. "I have. I swear I've seen every mental health professional in the city."

"I don't think that's possible."

"Hyperbole, Bin-ah. Use your imagination."

"Right. So...not a single one of those professionals were able to help you?"

"I think I'm the problem," Yeonjun lamented, attempting to be honest with himself. "I don't really want help. Or I do, but I hate being coddled or feeling like I'm weak. Everything they wanted from me felt superfluous and like a waste of time. It's hard to find the energy to work on yourself when you barely have the energy to get out of bed. I don't know. I guess I'm not ready to accept help." Then, he tilted his glass, examining the rest of his drink. "I am going to get drunk, by the way. I'm giving you the heads-up now in case you want to head out."

Soobin knew he should take the opening and leave. They could talk again in the morning, once Yeonjun was sober and less down on himself. Instead, he flipped Yeonjun's notebook open to a blank page and asked, "You want to play Pictionary?"

With a smile, Yeonjun nodded and downed his drink. He was a beautiful desolate tragedy in the most mundane of places, and Soobin liked that he could make him smile.

They played for a while, Yeonjun growing increasingly more tipsy, though his artistic skills refused to fail him. Even when he was slurring his words and swaying, he still did a perfect capture of "compromise" which Soobin only figured out because Yeonjun was such a good artist. They only played using the Hard (for Yeonjun to guess) and Really Hard (for Soobin to guess) categories because otherwise it wouldn't be fun. Soobin possessed an extensive vocabulary and Yeonjun could draw just about anything, so it was doing the thing they were bad at that made it funny. Yeonjun circled around the word "flotsam" for five minutes when presented with Soobin's less than stellar drawing of trash floating down the river before ultimately giving up, not because he couldn't figure out the picture, but because he just kept repeating "litter" and "pollution" over and over, like if he said them enough times, it would suddenly be correct.

Eventually, Yeonjun flopped on his back, cheeks pink, chest rising up and down with each breath. Soobin set his notebook aside and asked, "Have you reached your limit?"

"You know so many words," Yeonjun complained.

"And your drawings are amazing."

"Yeah, but that's only benefiting you!" he pointed out, throwing his hands up. "I have to guess what your chicken scratch is and I don't know any words."

"Draw worse, then," he suggested, only for Yeonjun to throw a pillow at him. Soobin caught it, laughing.

"Give me the notebook."

He slid it back over to him, watching as Yeonjun sketched for a minute, then held it up to see. Soobin squinted, then asked, "Is that...me...in jail?"

"Yes. Where you belong. Cheater."

"I'm not cheating," he protested, though his laughter didn't help Yeonjun take him seriously.

"I think the score is fifteen-four."

"Okay, we can play something else, then."

"No more," he whined, propping himself up on his elbows. "I can't take losing."

Soobin scooted to sit beside him, helping Yeonjun up by offering his shoulder to lean against. "No more," he agreed, though he was talking about the whiskey. He knew this would happen. He warned Yeonjun that he wouldn't want to stick around if he kept drinking.

Yet here he was anyway.

Yeonjun tucked his nose into the crook of his neck, feathery hair brushing against Soobin's cheek. He could feel his lips- they weren't doing anything, but they were there. Pressed against him. He had a hand balled in Soobin's work shirt, holding on tight and just breathing. He smelled good, like fresh flowers and hard candy.

Soobin froze, unsure of what to do with his body. All of his limbs suddenly felt massive and unwieldy.

It was so hard to believe, with Yeonjun cuddled into him like this, that he was a self-proclaimed sinner. He felt like an angel, breathing softly, sweetly, warming Soobin from the inside out.

He didn't want to shatter the moment, but he was afraid of what might happen next if he didn't.

"Are you sleeping?" he asked quietly, hand resting loosely over Yeonjun's back.

"I wish," Yeonjun mumbled into his collarbone.

"Do you want me to take you to bed?"

He felt Yeonjun...laugh? That wasn't quite right. As strange as it was to think, the sound he produced was more like a giggle, high and light. "Not the way you're offering," was what he said back, turning Soobin's ears red.

"Okay, it's definitely bed time," he decided, getting to his feet and taking Yeonjun with him.

Yeonjun swayed for a second but braced his hands on Soobin's shoulders, saying, "I'm fine, I'm good. I think...I think I'm going to change and wash up."

Soobin nodded, taking a careful step back so as to extract their bodies from one another, but staying close enough in case Yeonjun swayed again. "Sure. Is it okay if I stay here?"

Although he looked a little dazed, staring not at Soobin but at something past him, Yeonjun swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, no problem."

Momentarily confused, Soobin glanced behind him, but only saw the blank white wall. Yeonjun had already looked away by the time he faced forward.

"The extra sheets are in the laundry closet still," Yeonjun reminded him, drifting down the hall to his bedroom. Soobin followed, but went into the other hall instead, finding the sheets in the same spot they had been last time he stayed over. By the time he got them down, Yeonjun had gone into the bathroom, so Soobin dropped the sheets off and went into his bedroom to find something to sleep in. He found a t-shirt for a band called Cataclysm Black and a pair of grey sweatpants, taking the opportunity to change while he was still alone.

When he passed by the hall again, he heard muttering coming from the bathroom. Figuring Yeonjun must be talking to himself -probably drunk and confused- Soobin intended to just walk past to the living room where he could start making the bed. But then a loud crack came from inside, along with a spine-chilling splintering sound, and he stopped dead in his tracks in front of the door.

"Yeonjun?" he called, hand already on the handle.

"It's fine," Yeonjun called back, but his voice sounded shaky. "I'm fine. Give me a minute."

Soobin always listened to him. But this time, something in his gut told him to open the door.

So, he twisted the handle and carefully pushed.

Yeonjun stood hunched over in front of the mirror, cussing under his breath at rapid speed, almost as if he were speaking in tongues. Blood spattered everywhere, all over the counter, in the sink, even on Yeonjun's face. But the worst of it was smeared across the sink mirror, which had been the victim of a violent impact, rippling out and shattering in pieces. The perpetrator appeared to be Yeonjun's own fist, equally bloodstained and filled with shards of glass.

"Shit," he heard himself say, but it was like he was having an out-of-body experience, watching himself curse and rush to Yeonjun's side from the eyes of someone else. "What happened?" He held Yeonjun's arm gingerly, drawing him away from the scene of the crime.

"He just-" Yeonjun's eyes were manic, filled with fear, and Soobin could feel his entire body trembling. "He won't leave me alone. And- and I-"

Concerned, he cupped Yeonjun's cheeks, feeling his forehead for fever. "How drunk are you?"

"I'm not!" Yeonjun snapped at him, even though Soobin could feel him burning up. "I'm not drunk, I'd feel a lot better if I was."

"Okay, I understand," he tried to soothe him, leading Yeonjun vaguely in the direction of the toilet so he could sit. Thankfully, he didn't fight and sat down, holding his injured hand out and rubbing his forehead with the other. "Why'd you punch the mirror?"

He just wanted Yeonjun to keep talking until something sane came out of his mouth, distracting him with words while he searched the cabinets for first aid before the pain actually set in.

"I don't know. Forget it."

"Yeonjun-"

"I don't know," he insisted. "But I'm not drunk. So I probably had a damn good reason."

"Okay," Soobin just said again, finally fishing out the red first-aid kit from under the sink, being careful to avoid any fallen pieces of glass.

"I can do that," Yeonjun said, already reaching for the kit. "I'm fine, really."

"You currently have one operable hand."

"And extremely dexterous fingers. Let me clean up my own mess." He reached again for the first-aid kit, but Soobin clutched it to his chest, glaring at him.

"Let me help you."

"No."

"Choi Yeonjun, you might be fine now, but you won't be when I'm done with you if you don't let me help."

Yeonjun blinked, eyes wide.

"Okay, fine, chill out," he eventually acquiesced. "Damn," he added for good measure.

"I swear, you just like being difficult for the sake of it," Soobin muttered, kneeling down in front of him as he popped the kit open.

"A little. But I also try not to be a pain in your ass. All the time, at least."

"Your stubbornness is a bigger pain than anything else. If you actually let people help you, maybe you wouldn't think you have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time."

Yeonjun fell silent for a few moments. Soobin took the brief peaceful lull to find what he needed and reposition Yeonjun's hand. It wasn't a pretty sight, streaked with deep red cuts, a painful mix of lacerations and puncture wounds mostly centered around his knuckles and up his fingers. Shards of glass peppered his skin, some simply stuck to the back of his hand, others embedded deep in his flesh. He found the tweezers and pulled the trashcan close, and quietly set to work removing every piece with as much surgical precision as he could manage.

For a while, they sat there together not saying anything. When Soobin's glasses started slipping down his nose, Yeonjun used his free hand to push them back up.

The gesture shouldn't have made his heart soar.

"There," Soobin murmured once his hand looked free of glass. Just in case, he gently brushed over his skin. "Did I miss any?"

Yeonjun shook his head.

Soobin set the tweezers down, retrieving cotton and hydrogen peroxide. With the cotton pad sterilized, he dabbed it into each cut, holding Yeonjun's hand by the wrist to keep him from recoiling due to the sting. After that, he cleaned the blood spatters from his face. Then, he wrapped his hand in sterile gauze before returning the items to the kit. Yeonjun stared at his hand for a few moments, then cupped Soobin's cheek with the uninjured one, and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

He thought the fire within his blood might consume him then and there.

And all Yeonjun said when he pulled back was, "Thanks."

He wished he could do more than hold his breath and stammer, "N-no problem."

Was he pathetic for wanting Yeonjun so obviously or was Yeonjun cruel for toying with him when he knew Soobin was so vulnerable to his influence?

He should leave it there, but instead his self-destructive inquisition had to ask, "Why would you kiss me?"

Yeonjun wore a small pained smile. "I don't know how else to express my gratitude." Then, he tilted his head and asked in a quiet voice, "Did you like it?"

Soobin swallowed and shook his head. "I don't want to do this with you right now."

He couldn't even begin to unpack that question, not on the bathroom floor with Yeonjun disoriented and bleeding.

To his surprise, Yeonjun looked a little hurt -maybe just wincing from the pain in his hand- and nodded. "Sure." Once he had stopped shaking, Soobin helped him to his feet. "You don't need to hold me up," he said gently. "My legs work fine."

"I know." Soobin still wrapped an arm around his narrow waist and led him out of the bathroom, flicking off the light. They returned to the living room, where Yeonjun drifted from his hold over to where his half-full glass of whiskey still sat on the coffee table.

Soobin wasn't even surprised when Yeonjun finished his drink, and said, "Thanks for your help. I think I'm going to call it a night. Are you sure you want to stay? I’m fine now.”

Soobin once again entertained the idea of going home, but the buses had likely already stopped running, and even if they hadn't, he knew he would wake up the entire household by returning at this hour. Besides, he needed to keep an eye on Yeonjun. Maybe him punching the mirror was a rare emotional outburst. Or maybe there was something worse going on. Either way, it wouldn't feel right to leave him alone.

"I’m sure. As long as you still want me here.”

"It's fine with me." Yeonjun's voice had gotten softer towards him since the event that just took place. He glanced at the pile of sheets on the coffee table. "Do you want the pullout bed or my bed? I don't mind sleeping out here."

He wasn't as drunk as Soobin thought. Everything he had said since he shattered the mirror was coherent.

"Pullout," Soobin said immediately. He knew the chances were slim to none, but there was always the possibility that Yeonjun's boyfriend came home and wanted to sleep there. At the thought of him, guilt flared up in his stomach. Even as they were taking the extra cushions off the couch, he had to ask, "Will your boyfriend mind me staying over?"

"He would have to come home to notice," Yeonjun replied only half-bitterly, stacking the cushions to the side with his good hand. "Don't stress yourself out."

"I don't think I could live like that," he said quietly.

"Yeah, I didn't think I could be, either. But...here I am. It's a compromise, honestly. I wouldn't choose it."

"Do you...hook up with other guys often, then?"

Yeonjun yawned, and examined his bandaged hand, replying "Not even a little. I hate trying to meet guys. It all feels so shallow and vain, at least on our scene. They all just want a picture with me. I just wanted it to be an even playing field instead of feeling like I was getting cheated on all the time. I guess I'm exercising my privileges, or whatever."

"Right..." Then he sighed, carding his fingers through his hair. "Break up with him."

"You're so cute." Yeonjun gripped the edge of the couch with his uninjured hand, releasing the pullout bed.

"I'm serious." Soobin pushed the coffee table out of the way and came around the other side to help him. He knew telling Yeonjun to let him handle it on his own wouldn't end well.

"I know you are. That doesn't mean I can just do what you're asking of me."

"Why not?" His frustration was getting the better of him, but he didn't understand.

Yeonjun didn't let Soobin's outburst get under his skin, and instead replied calmly, "We're connected. We've been through hard shit, and our souls understand each other. I don't want to throw that away."

"Okay, what have you been through that's so permanent and moving that you're willing to suffer for the rest of your life?"

Yeonjun shook his head. "I couldn't explain it to you even if I tried. You wouldn't believe me. It's not...I don't want to be tied to him. But I am, and I can't change that." He seemed almost afraid to say more on the topic, and abruptly ended with, "I'm going to grab you an extra blanket, I’ll be right back.

Soobin was left standing there feeling more confused than ever, unable to parse any meaning or sense from what he had just said. He should have followed him down the hall if only to not be left alone with the silence. The more time he spent in Yeonjun's house, the more he understood what Kai had said about it feeling uncomfortable. There was a crucifix in every room, and he could feel the Lord's eyes on him from where he hung nailed upon it. The only things in the kitchen cabinets were alcohol and cleaning products. And now there was broken glass all over the bathroom sink. He wasn't thinking straight earlier. He should have swept it up.

Deciding he didn't want to stand there and wait any longer, he went to the hall closet, hoping he would find the broom in there.

Instead, it was filled with identical boxes. Confused, Soobin read the label on one: Red pillar candle x 42 count.

They all said the same thing. Which meant Yeonjun had hundreds of candles in this one closet.

Weirded out, he backed away from the closet and shut the door, only for Yeonjun to reappear beside him, arms full of blankets.

"What were you looking for?"

He didn't seem angry that Soobin had gone snooping.

"The broom," he answered honestly. "I was going to clean up the glass before one of us hurt ourselves."

"The broom won't help, it's in the sink," Yeonjun pointed out, something Soobin knew but hadn't thought through. "I'll take care of it."

"Okay..." Soobin reluctantly agreed, and helped him dress the pullout bed. "What's with all the candles?" he couldn't help but ask after enough time passed.

"I like to light them when I meditate and pray," Yeonjun explained, fast and smooth enough for Soobin to almost believe he was being honest. Even with how much he had to drink, he no longer seemed remotely intoxicated. "It feels like being at mass."

"That makes sense." There was no reason to argue. Even if there was also no rational explanation as to why he needed so many.

"Bin-ah." Yeonjun kneeled on the edge of the bed, reaching for his hand. Unable to resist, Soobin held it out, letting Yeonjun loosely grasp his wrist. His fingers were cold, and his eyes shimmered in the semi-darkness. "I think you need to sleep."

"But the sink-"

Yeonjun squeezed his arm, pulling him closer until his knees hit the edge of the pullout. "I'll take care of it."

His tone had become breathy and inviting, compelling him to listen.

"And then you'll go to bed?"

"Mhm."

Soobin wished he had kissed him longer. That brief second they were connected already felt like a far-off memory, more dream than reality. He didn't want to forget, or pretend it hadn't happened.

"Yeonjun," he whispered, kneeling on the cushions as well. He suddenly felt out of control, desperate for something he couldn't have. Like his body was being puppeted and his blood had been replaced with adrenaline.

His hand slid up his arm, resting against his bicep, but Yeonjun just repeated softly, "You need to sleep."

"I can't."

"You haven't tried, silly."

"What if I wake up and I don't remember?"

Yeonjun smiled, eyelashes fanned against his cheeks, wearing the face of a porcelain angel. Then he leaned in, and Soobin braced himself for a kiss, but instead Yeonjun just brushed his nose past his cheek, soft and ghostly, and murmured, "What if there's nothing to remember and it's all a dream?"

He withdrew before Soobin could summon a coherent answer, carefully getting to his feet.

"Goodnight, Soobin-ah," he whispered, and left the room, flicking off the hall light and plunging him into darkness.

Soobin felt himself falling asleep faster than he ever had in his life, as if overcome by anesthesia, the pitch black of the empty living room taking liquid abstract form behind his eyes.

...

It was Thursday night again, which had unofficially become their thing. Never Fridays, because Yeonjun always had a show on Friday nights, and Soobin was burnt out from the work week, anyway. But Thursdays were good. They felt like a quiet start to the weekend. The two of them would order takeout, and talk about their projects, and catch up vaguely on the years missed between them. Yeonjun kept inviting him to see the band play, and Soobin kept turning him down.

The vision of him onstage always crept into his mind at the worst of times, taking over his thoughts and poisoning his perception of Yeonjun. He played a character at his shows- he was dark, demonic, and flirtatious. A carefree spirit obsessed with sex and self-destructive tendencies, performing until his last breath.

But the Yeonjun he knew, the one he saw on Thursday nights, was anxious and introspective, obsessed with constantly being the best version of himself and paranoid about what everyone in his life wanted from him. They weren't so different in that regard.

Soobin wanted to keep viewing him in the way that felt familiar, and not allow himself to grow inescapably intoxicated with the character he presented onstage.

Weeks had passed since that night everything went off-kilter, and Soobin refused to let himself dwell on what had happened. Yeonjun recovered fine from his injury. And Soobin, well...he tried to recover from the kiss. As much as Yeonjun tried to hypnotize him into forgetting that night, Soobin hadn't. It stayed in the recesses of his mind, ever-present, whispering that he was a sinner.

But on the surface, they had moved past it. Soobin had told him he wouldn't kiss him after all, at least not until Jiro was out of the picture, and he knew Yeonjun felt guilty for crossing that line.

He still didn't understand why Yeonjun would even look at him and want something like that. His obsession certainly couldn't match Soobin's. He didn't close his eyes and see the shape of his lips behind his lids. He didn't look up at the bleeding sun and see their vermillion color. He didn't see the curve of his smile in the waning moon and wait for twilight to fade in order to watch shadows spill onto the street in the subtle black curls of his hair.

Yeonjun became day and night to him; sunshine, daydream, and sleep.

Soobin had no idea what he used to think about. The only omni-present figures in his mind now were Choi Yeonjun and God, both of whom he waited with bated breath all week to worship.

They kept seeing each other. Rebuilding their relationship from the ground up in a careful, premeditated manner. Whenever Soobin went to Yeonjun's house, he always kept an eye on the door, wondering when his boyfriend might come bursting through, ruining the fragile and quiet routine they built.

The thought of him shouldn't scare Soobin so much- he wasn't doing anything wrong. His relationship with Yeonjun wasn't like that, and even if it was, Jiro wouldn't have any right to criticize either of them. He wasn't faithful, and both he and Yeonjun were upfront about that. So Soobin shouldn't be so worried every time he sat in the living room, peering through the kitchen and hallway to the entryway, watching the door enough for Yeonjun to notice and call him out on it more than once.

It was Thursday again, and Soobin got off at the stop nearest Yeonjun's house. The sun had gone down- street lamps and nighttime kept him company on the short walk. When he pushed the front gate open, he hesitated, staring at the house's exterior.

Something felt off.

The porch light hadn't been flicked on, and the only illuminated window was the one in Yeonjun's room, glowing amber through the cracks in his blackout curtains.

Torn on what to do, Soobin knocked like he always did, but no one came to the door. He checked his phone- had Yeonjun cancelled their plans?

But the last text he had from him just read: See you Thursday

Maybe he had fallen asleep. It happened from time to time- the longer Soobin spent with him, the more it became apparent he was physically and mentally exhausted.

He debated leaving for a few moments, before ultimately trying the front door. It was unlocked.

Soobin pushed it open and carefully let it click shut behind him. He didn't want to wake Yeonjun if he was in fact sleeping. If that turned out to be the case, Soobin would order something for him to eat when he woke up, and leave a note explaining what happened. He still slipped off his shoes before passing through the entryway to the main hall.

And as he stood there, he heard voices. Loud voices, filled with anger and pain. He froze as soon as they reached his ears.

“I can’t do this anymore,” was the first thing he heard Yeonjun say, voice ragged like the edges of broken glass. “I can’t keep giving you everything.”

“Yeonjun.” Jiro’s voice slithered out the door, soft but sibilant, trying to compel him to listen. So, he had finally showed up after all. Soobin's hands balled into fists at his sides. “You know what we have is more than that. I’ve given you just as much.”

“You’re ruining my life,” Yeonjun threw back at him, not falling for it. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I’m scared of fucking everything...I feel like I’m going insane.”

Confused, Soobin crept a little closer. He might have misheard him.

But Jiro's reply matched what he heard. “This is what you asked for. Remember?”

“This isn’t what I fucking asked for,” he swore, growing in volume. “I never agreed to this. You trapped me, and you know it! At least have the decency to admit what you’ve done.” While Jiro sounded collected, Yeonjun was obviously frustrated and manic, desperately trying to convey his need for everything to end.

Jiro’s voice adopted a mocking tone, dripping sardonic syrup, but remained calm. “Yeonjun, you’ve stayed with me all this time. You chose me. You love me. Isn’t that what you always say?”

“I used to love you!” he retorted. His anger made sense. Jiro's nonchalance made Soobin's skin crawl. “Before I knew…before I got in way over my head. I don’t want to be mixed up in your shit anymore. I can’t take it.”

“I always knew you were weak and pathetic. Why do you think I wanted more?”

Soobin should leave. Standing here eavesdropping on their fight made him just as bad as the two of them, hurling insults and foul words at each other.

“So, what, you’re always hooking up with other guys to supplement what I can’t give you?" Yeonjun asked, voice hysteric. "When I’ve practically bled out my soul for your shit? You’ve given me nothing but insomnia and a handful of complexes.”

“Now you’re starting to sound ungrateful.” Jiro’s tone lowered, no longer playful. “Should I start listing it all out and we can compare the gifts we’ve imparted on each other?”

He talked so strangely, muted and roundabout. It felt unnatural even to Soobin's ears.

“You know that’s not what I’m trying to say,” Yeonjun argued. “I- I’m just exhausted. I don’t want to do this anymore.” His voice broke at the end, and Soobin stalled, torn between wanting to protect him and his fear of making everything worse.

Jiro laughed, the sound of it making his hair stand up on the back of his neck. “You can’t just decide when you’re finished with me. That’s not how this works.”

“Yes, it is,” Yeonjun insisted. “If I don’t want to be with you anymore -and God knows you don’t want to be with me- then why the fuck are we still doing this?”

“It’s mutually beneficial,” Jiro tried to persuade him. “Your world would be ruined if you kicked me out now. You don’t know how to take care of yourself.”

“What you provide isn’t worth the paranoia it brings.”

“You brought me into your life,” Jiro reminded him. “You’re the one who went looking for me. You’re the one who begged me to stay and help you. Should we go to the basement and take a trip down memory lane?"

“I know that! But-”

“But now you’ve gotten what you wanted and you’re not ready to pay your end of the deal,” Jiro cut him off. “How fucking selfish.” The more they talked about whatever they had between them, the less it sounded like a relationship and more like a contract. Jiro spoke like Yeonjun owed him something, and Yeonjun didn't call him out on it, he even seemed to agree.

“You have to know how insane that sounds coming from you,” Yeonjun still replied bitterly. “When all you’ve done is take from me.”

“Sure, I’ve taken things from you,” Jiro agreed. “Your youth, your freedom, your peace of mind. Blah, blah, blah. But you’re forgetting the part where all that shit was corrupted and useless anyway. You already wasted your youth on prayer, you’ve never had any freedom, and your mind has been a cage full of worms since the day you were born.”

“Then why the fuck did you want to be with me in the first place?”

“Because we’re good for each other,” he crooned. “You’re talented and pretty and so full of an irrefutable lust for life. And I’ve helped you, haven’t I?”

“You’ve walked me to the edge of the bridge and told me to jump,” Yeonjun hissed.

To Soobin’s shock, Jiro laughed again. “See, that’s your problem. If you were smart, you would have listened.”

“I’m never going to listen to you,” Yeonjun promised. “Not ever again. You’re delusional, and fucked up, and I can’t take it anymore. This isn’t about me and what I used to want. We’ve gone so far past that.” He heard a loud thump, the sound of one of them hitting the other's chest. "It's about you-" another thump, it had to be Yeonjun's fist banging against Jiro in desperation "wanting to keep me on a leash, twiddling my thumbs at home, staring at every dark corner and hallucinating demons, waiting to be graced with your fucking magnanimous presence just because you think that's what we agreed on. I want you to go. For good. And then you can be free to fuck anyone you want."

Soobin knew he needed to leave. The urgency of it all hit him, a constant rushing of blood through his body. This had nothing to do with him. It wasn't his business, and it was on the verge of tipping from messy to dangerous.

And still he was drawn further into the house. Dim lit spilled onto the carpet in the hall.

The door had been left cracked, open enough not only for light to escape, but sound, and shapes, their bodies flitting in and out of frame as they fought- Yeonjun's lithe and fast as a lash, Jiro's bigger and encompassing, his dark silhouette blocking him from any attempts at escape. Their argument had transcended past Yeonjun trying to break up with Jiro, and Jiro trying to convince him to stay. If he hadn’t accepted it the first time, he wouldn’t until it came to an explosive end, one way or the other.

“You want to talk about loyalty?” Jiro spat, deciding to drop his pretense and get his hands dirty. "You want to pretend that you're a saint? Because I've seen you with that office worker." Soobin's blood ran cold as his involvement in this became very real, very immediately. "On the fucking doorbell cam. The one you said is just a friend from 'church'?" He mangled the word like it personally offended him "He's here practically every fucking night, and he doesn't leave until morning. You want to tell me what the fuck that's about?"

They had paused right in front of the door, Jiro's back to him, and Soobin could see half of Yeonjun's face. His gaze sharp and venomous, like a viper poised to strike at any moment.

"I don't keep him for sex," Yeonjun bit back immediately. fueled by the notion that he was morally righteous. "I don't know if you've noticed, but you're never fucking here, so I'm alone all the time. With this place eating away at me. He's a friend that keeps me company. Is the concept foreign to you? Have you ever had a friend?"

He could see Jiro shake his head, and heard him scoff. "Someone like you, a desperately horny little rabbit, keeping a man like that around as a friend? You expect me to believe that?"

The way he hissed his words had Soobin's skin crawling. He realized where the discomfort came from: his tone didn't match his face, uncanny and ill-aligned.

"I don't care if you believe me, it's the truth!" Despite his burning anger and barbed tongue, Soobin could see his eyes reflecting the light, growing more watery the longer they fought. He knew Yeonjun. He knew he was close to crying. "I can't make you trust me. Apparently I can't even make you want me anymore. Apparently my brains full of worms and I've got nothing left to give you, but you still want me to stay? How does that make sense?"

"Yeonjun." To Soobin's surprise, Jiro's rage momentarily dissolved, and he cupped Yeonjun's cheek. Yeonjun looked up at him, hurt and visibly shaking. "Baby, you know there's no one like you. Fucking around only reminds me that I've got the best of the best. Imagine if I didn't try other flavors every once and a while- I'd take you and all your assets for granted. I wouldn't even remember that you're my favorite."

"That's so fucked up," Yeonjun whispered, and Soobin felt a flicker of victory when he didn't buy any of it.

His comment sent Jiro off the handle again though, because he snatched his hand back, leaving oily black residue on Yeonjun's skin that had Soobin's stomach turning, and snapped, "See, you can't even take a fucking compliment. Trying to reason with you is impossible. Have you ever tried being grateful for once in your life?"

Yeonjun immediately flared up, like a fire that had just been fed gasoline and wicker. He shoved Jiro back towards the door, hissing, "What the fuck do I have to be grateful for? I have a disgusting, gaslighting, cheater for a boyfriend that can't even pay me a so-called compliment without telling me about all the other people he's sticking his dick in! You should be grateful for the fact that I haven't killed you with all the shit you pull, like you're trying to see just how fucking far you can push me. Maybe if I thought I could, I would have already."

"Don't put your hands on me." Soobin could see him grab Yeonjun's wrists, restraining them in a tight hold. "I'll make you regret it. Threatening to kill me, too, do you have a fucking death wish? You're not big shit, Yeonjun. If I wanted to, I could break both your wrists and leave you here to call the cops with your feet. I could pull your fucking spine through that tattoo of yours, give you the real thing. Is that what you want?"

His body tensed, hatred for that twisted disgusting man overpowering any lingering sense of fear he had. Jiro crossed the line. Mocking him was one thing, but holding him down and threatening to kill him was the clearest indication to Soobin that he needed to do something.

"That's sick." Yeonjun was trying to fight against his hold on him, but Jiro held steadfast. "You're fucking sick in the head. I don't know what I ever saw in you."

"I'm not joking," Jiro warned, and his tone had shifted drastically. It was no longer fueled by anger, but cold and straightforward. Like he had already made up his mind about what he planned to do next. "If you keep talking like that, you'll regret it. If you know what's good for you, you'll shut your mouth and apologize to me. Now."

Yeonjun had picked up on the same change, and Soobin saw his arms go still, no longer writhing and pulling against him. He had frozen, but to the point where he couldn't even speak.

For some reason, Yeonjun was very, very afraid of him.

Soobin resolved right then and there that if Jiro took one more physical move towards him, he would fight.

"Go on. Apologize."

"I hate you," was what Yeonjun said instead.

Neither of them moved.

"Is that the only thing you have to say?" Jiro asked quietly, voice taut as deadly piano wire.

"No." Yeonjun stepped forward, and stood on his toes to look Jiro dead in the eyes as he spat, "I hate you, and you're fucking dead to me. Go to Hell."

Silence.

And then...

The split second Soobin saw Jiro move, he knew he couldn't hesitate. He still had time to slam Yeonjun's head against the wall, a sick crack filling the air. Soobin burst into the room, hooking his arms through Jiro's even as he lunged at Yeonjun again, fighting to pin them behind his back. "Get your hands off of him," he said as calmly as he could manage through the red filling his vision, not wanting to escalate the situation even further. Jiro wasn't taller than him, but he was stockier, and Soobin had to leverage his weight against the wall to keep his hold even as the other man tried to kick out, thrashing around in his hold.

"Get the fuck off me! Who the fuck are you?"

Yeonjun shot back towards the other side of the room, obviously dazed and terrified by everything that just happened, but quickly he regained his composure. "You need to leave, Jiro," he said despite the tremble in his voice. "Right now."

Soobin did his best, but he couldn't hold the other man for long, and he burst from his hold, spinning around and shoving him against the door. He felt his shoulder collide, but didn't register the pain immediately, too focused on the furious red face taking up most of his vision.

"You!" he snarled, and Soobin didn't even have time to register his fist before it came crashing into the side of his face. This time, the pain ruptured instantaneously, his vision and hearing flickering out of focus for a second, but he still made out, "You're that bastard that's fucking him!"

"He's not!" he heard Yeonjun shriek, and blinked sight back into his eyes just in time to see Yeonjun run back towards Jiro and attempt to lock his arm in place. "It's not like that, don't hurt him!"

As much as Soobin appreciated his pleas on his behalf, they made him sound weak and pathetic.

"Then why the fuck is he here?" Jiro once again rounded on Yeonjun, fighting to get a hold of his hair, but kept Soobin pressed against the door, thinking the hand braced against his chest would be enough.

It took a second for the answer to dawn on Yeonjun, and he looked like he was going to cry when he said, "We order takeout on Thursdays."

Soobin shook the stars from his head and shoved Jiro's hand off of him, regaining his footing and stepping between them, braced to keep him away from Yeonjun no matter what it took. "Just fucking leave, man. Or I'm going to call the police. Not just for the domestic violence charge, but for aggravated assault." He pointed at his face which he knew had to already be swelling. He could feel the blood pouring from his nose, and his eye felt like it had been the recipient of a steel baseball. "And intent to harm," he added, pointing at Yeonjun.

Jiro only spared him one disgusted glance before looking over his shoulder at Yeonjun. "This is really how you want to end things? Sicking a holier-than-thou guard dog and the cops on me? After everything we've been through?"

Yeonjun didn't look back at him, instead staring straight ahead at the wall. "Fuck you. Get out."

Soobin could almost feel Jiro's oscillation between wanting to cause Yeonjun as much suffering as possible and wanting to save his own skin. It seemed like the latter won out when all he said was, "I want my shit packed up and in the garage by Monday," before shoving out the dented door.

When the front door slammed, Yeonjun visibly jumped, then shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I'm so sorry." His voice broke again. "You shouldn't have- I should have..."

Despite his attempts to calm himself, the words still sprung a leak in the dam of his constitution, and Soobin knew he was seconds away from shattering. Setting aside his own physical pain for now, he gently guided Yeonjun by his shoulders to his bed where he eventually sat gingerly on the edge. With slow careful movements, Soobin sat down beside him, checking his head. Yeonjun winced from his touch, obviously in pain.

But then Yeonjun shook him off and got to his feet again. "No, no come on, you need the hospital."

"It's fine," Soobin lied, able to feel the edges of every bone in his face throbbing. He'd never been punched before. It hurt, but his body might have gone into shock. "Maybe just a box of tissues."

"Come on," Yeonjun urged, still sounding on the verge of tears as he tugged Soobin back into a standing position.

Reluctantly, he followed him out of his bedroom and into the bathroom where Yeonjun's trusty first-aid kit once again made an appearance. He sat on the toilet lid, tasting his own blood coating his lips and running down the back of his throat. Seeing Yeonjun's face was the worst part, though. He could have endured the pain just fine if only he stopped looking at him like he was a dying bird.

"It doesn't hurt that bad," Soobin lied again in an attempt to ease his anguish. "You're injured, too."

Even if he couldn't see a visible wound, he knew having his head slammed against the wall couldn't have felt good. He could be concussed, and that was at the very least.

"I'm fine. I've had worse."

After that, Yeonjun didn't say anything, just carefully began wiping up the excess blood with a clean cloth, his entire body shaking.

After a few minutes of this, Yeonjun quietly asked, "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

"Uh..." He wanted to be an optimist. "Good news?"

"I don't think your nose is broken."

"Okay." That was already better than he had hoped for. "Sweet. What's the bad news, then?"

"You're probably going to have a black eye for at least a week or two, and your lip is split."

He exhaled, surprisingly relieved. "That's fine, then."

"It's not fine," Yeonjun protested, voice cracking. It only dawned on him then that Yeonjun was crying for him. Not because he was hurt. "You should have never been in that situation in the first place. Why didn't you leave when you heard us fighting?"

"Honestly, I was going to." He sat still, eyes closed, as Yeonjun dabbed the perimeter of his left eye with numbing cream. "I knew it wasn't any of my business, and I didn't want to make things worse for you by being there. But, then it started to sound like things were getting physical. I wasn't going to leave you by yourself if that happened. You know I couldn't."

"I could have handled it," he mumbled, more drained of confidence and guts than Soobin had ever seen in all their years of knowing each other. "I would have preferred almost anything to you getting hurt."

"How do you think I felt, then?"

He would have rather cut off his own hand than stand aside and watch what was happening. To think that someone like Yeonjun, strong and fearless, could endure such horror, and expect to do it alone...Soobin didn't even want to contemplate what might have happened if he hadn't come tonight. If he had left when Yeonjun didn't answer the door, if he had to wait until Sunday to find out what happened to him, and if Yeonjun would've survived at all...

Life was so much more delicate than they treated it. God had made them such fragile creatures.

Yeonjun put himself in Soobin's shoes, before sniffing and rubbing his own eyes with the back of his wrist. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"Why on earth would I be thinking that?"

"No, I mean...you would have to be stupid to date a guy like the one you saw tonight. He's not usually like that. He must've been high, it's the only thing that explains it. He was so incoherent and aggressive. It felt like talking to a stranger."

"Don't make excuses for him. High or not, no one should treat their partner like that."

"I know," Yeonjun replied in a quiet voice. "I just don't want you to think that I've been putting up with that all this time. I don't have that low of an opinion of myself." Then, as he rubbed antiseptic into the split in Soobin's bottom lip and he endured the sting, Yeonjun murmured, "Thank you."

"You would've done the same for me."

"I probably wouldn't have looked as heroic doing it." Yeonjun sat back on his heels, finished with tending to him for now.

"I didn't do anything heroic. I took a punch and asked him nicely to back off." In fact, he had probably looked incredibly lame, a fact his delicate masculinity thought was appropriate to remind him.

"Yeah, but...that punch was meant for me. He obviously wanted to throw it all night. And I think it would've been a lot worse. Besides, I think you were right not to hit him back. He would've cried self-defense if it really came down to calling the cops."

"Probably," he agreed, not feeling any cooler. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Though visibly shaken still, Yeonjun nodded. "I never thought I'd perpetuate all the shit that went wrong in my house in my adult life."

Soobin frowned, rubbing the side of his cheek that still ached. "What do you mean?"

Yeonjun jerked his chin towards his bedroom, already reliving the scene. "That's what my parents were like. All the time. Up until the very second my dad left. My mom would scream and throw things and my dad would beat her until she stopped."

He felt the air leave his lungs. "Oh."

"I never wanted to be like them. My mom or my dad. I didn't ever want to let myself be a victim, but I also never wanted to hurt the person I loved. Feels like I've done both."

"Yeonjun..."

"Listen to me complaining when you're the one that got punched in the face," he laughed at himself, gently holding Soobin's chin. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you to the hospital?"

"Let me see how bad it is," he suggested, getting to his feet and sidling over to the mirror.

In the adrenaline and chaos of everything that happened, he had forgotten that Yeonjun broke half of it. Still, the other half worked just fine, revealing the giant red and purple throbbing wound that was the entire left side of his face.

Soobin lifted his chin, examining himself from the side. Sure enough, his bottom lip had split open, the blood cleaned and dried now, just leaving a swollen red tear. His eye had already begun bruising, lid turning black, and the thin papery skin of his cheek streaked with visible veins and shadows.

He had expected himself to look more like freshly-tenderized meat. Instead, "I look kind of sexy."

Yeonjun laughed but it sounded sad and broken. "That's no reason to stay out of the hospital." He moved to stand behind him, loosely wrapping an arm around his waist. "Just because I don't think your nose is broken doesn't mean something else isn't."

He shrugged. "Honestly, I doubt there's a lot more they can do for me. They'll probably check over your work and then send me home with instructions to take tylenol and use an ice pack. Sounds like a waste of time."

Yeonjun seemed like he wanted to argue, but eventually caved. "Whatever you want. It's your face." He stepped away from him, putting the supplies he'd used back in the first-aid kit and tucking it under the sink.

Soobin gave him a moment to be alone, wandering out of the bathroom and down the hall into the living room. None of the lights had been turned on in the rest of the house. He flicked the switch on the lamp beside the couch and started taking off the excess cushions, once again converting it into a bed.

He heard Yeonjun's footsteps, soft padding on the carpet, but he didn't say anything. Soobin pulled out the folded half of the bed and the cover sheet, and Yeonjun took the opposite end, tucking it into place.

"You don't have to stay here," he eventually said in a quiet voice. "I wouldn't mind driving you home."

"I'd rather stay. I don't think you should be alone and I also think I should probably give the swelling in my face some time to go down before I completely freak my mom out."

"Fair enough. You get comfortable, I'll bring you an ice pack."

Soobin returned to the bathroom to brush his teeth, moving his face as little as possible as he did so to avoid triggering another wave of pain, and then came back to the living room to find Yeonjun perched on the coffee table, wrapping a package of frozen peas in a towel. Soobin slipped his shirt off over his head and took the pack when Yeonjun offered it, testing it against his eye.

The cold stung at first, but offered immediate relief, the bite dulled by the towel.

"That's good, thank you."

Yeonjun nodded, then tucked his hair behind his ear, a sure tell that he was nervous about something.

"What's wrong?" Soobin asked, sitting down on the pullout bed.

He hesitated for a second before shaking his head and standing up. "Nothing. I'll leave you to sleep. Come get me if you feel worse or if you need anything. I'll just be..." He gestured vaguely down the hall, but couldn't look in the direction of his own bedroom.

"Do you want to sleep here?"

Yeonjun blinked -maybe surprised that Soobin could read him- and shook his head again. "No, no. It's fine. That would probably be weird for you, and-"

"It's not weird for me."

He wouldn't want to sleep in the room where he just had the most traumatic fight of his life, in the bed he shared with the person who threatened to break his wrists, either.

Another pause of reluctance. He could see Yeonjun rationalizing a thousand different things in his mind. He patted the bed beside him. "Come sit down. I have to stay up for a while with this thing on my face, anyway. You can make up your mind later."

"Okay," he agreed after a beat, and came around the other side to sit. "You said 'fuck' earlier."

Soobin frowned. "When?"

"At Jiro. When you told him to leave."

He didn't remember cussing, but maybe in the heat of the moment, the Devil had gotten the better of him. "Huh." Even three months ago he would have cared a lot more. "I guess I'll have to repent."

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. "Knowing our pastor, it will be a two-minute confession and twenty Hail Mary's and you'll be on your way with a pat on the ass, free of sin."

"Did you used to confess when you cussed?" He tried to take his mind off things.

"Soobin-ah, I've confessed things to our pastor that have probably given him every grey hair on his head. We've long since moved past me saying fuck." Yeonjun gladly latched on to the topic of conversation, voice still shaking.

"Wait, you still go to confession?"

"Sometimes. When I feel like I've really screwed up and don't have anywhere to turn."

"I used to think you only went to church for show."

"It was sort of like that for a while when I was in university. I had no motivation to do anything, but I still showed up on Sundays to prove to my mom that everything was okay."

The ice pack was starting to slip, so Soobin swung his feet up onto the bed and opted to lay back with his eyes closed. To his surprise, he felt the pullout bed move as Yeonjun curled up beside him.

"Do you want me to hold it?"

He was referring to the ice pack.

Soobin chuckled. "There's nothing wrong with my hands." Then, to pass the time until his face felt adequately numb, he asked, "What's the funniest thing you've brought to confession?"

"I told Pastor Kim about the first dildo I bought and asked him if I was going to Hell."

He didn't want to laugh but he couldn't help it. "How old were you?"

"Seventeen."

"And what did he say?"

"You know, I think he really tried, but my teenager brain interpreted it the wrong way. He quoted Proverb 3:4-6, telling me not to trust myself but the Lord. Now that I'm an adult, I think he was trying to tell me that being gay didn't necessarily mean I was condemned to Hell. But back then, I just thought he was warning me against my desire for anal sex. He also told me to go to Youth Group more."

"That's kinder of a response than I would have thought."

"Yeah, a lot of the people in our congregation are homophobic, but not Pastor Kim. I probably wouldn't still be going there if I felt like I was unwelcome."

"I really am surprised that you even told him."

"My sexuality has been the cause of half my problems. When I was a kid, I hoped that with enough prayer and confession, I could be fixed. Turns out it wasn't me that was the issue, just the shitty role models in my life."

"Pastor Kim told you that?"

"Not in such explicit terms, but he helped me see it. I think...if you ever wanted to come out to someone, that would be a safe place to start."

The idea filled him with discomfort. "Maybe." Then, because he couldn't endure the subject anymore, he said, "I'm worried about you."

Yeonjun sighed. "Why?"

"Just because you don't look injured doesn't mean something's not wrong."

"It's not that bad."

"I'm serious." Soobin sat back up against the pillows and set aside his ice pack in favor of using both hands to ease Yeonjun's head onto his chest. "What if you're concussed?"

"I've been concussed before," Yeonjun mumbled, breath warm and soft against his bare skin. "This doesn't hurt as bad."

"When did you get concussed?"

"A couple times. Once when I was a kid. And then I slipped off stage during soundcheck once and hit my head on the edge. Blacked out and didn't remember it happening until Kai brought it up two months later. And..." Yeonjun swallowed before admitting, "Jiro got me pretty good one time, too. Last summer, I think."

"So, this isn't new," Soobin quietly pointed out.

"It wasn't out of malice then." He still defended him. Or maybe he was defending the person he remembered him being. "It was an accident."

"What happened?"

Yeonjun shook his head, hiding against Soobin's stomach where he murmured, "I don't want to talk about it."

He carefully stroked his hair, testing his pain. Yeonjun didn't wince. Like he had already adjusted to the sensation. "Okay."

Soobin sat up suddenly, seeing stars in the process, realizing, "You haven't eaten anything."

"Bin," Yeonjun said softly, coaxing him to lay back down with a hand against his chest. "I'm okay."

"No, it's still early," he protested, reaching for his phone. "You're not going to be able to sleep if you're hungry."

"Let me do it, then." Yeonjun slipped his phone from his hands, exchanging it for the ice pack. "Don't strain your eyes."

Reluctantly, Soobin pressed the ice pack against his face again while Yeonjun used his phone, cheek pressed into Soobin's skin.

Selfishly, he thought taking a punch to the face was well worth this moment. He just wished it hadn't come at the expense of Yeonjun's pain, as well.

"What are you ordering?" he asked gently.

"Ramyun," Yeonjun answered, concentrating hard on the menu. "What do you want?"

"Something with kimchi and pork."

"Wow, what a shocker. I never would have guessed."

"I like Korean food," Soobin defended himself. "Is that so bad?"

"No." He could see Yeonjun smiling by the light of his cell phone, lips pout and red, eyes sparkling. "You're cute."

He always said that.

Soobin continued to pet his hair. "You promise to tell me if your head hurts?"

"It does hurt," Yeonjun told him. "I took some painkillers when I gave them to you. It'll fade."

"I'm going to kill him."

Yeonjun finished ordering and shut his phone off. The room was suddenly flooded in darkness once more. "Don't talk like that," he murmured. "It's not like you."

"Sorry. It's just...some of the things he said to you...they didn't make any sense."

"He was high," Yeonjun sighed. "I told you."

"I know. It still scared me."

"Hopefully some food will ease your nerves." Yeonjun massaged circles on his chest, every pass of his fingers over his skin threatening to pull shivers from him. He felt awful- Yeonjun shouldn't be the one reassuring him.

"I wasn't scared for me," he tried to explain. "He...it was so graphic."

"I know."

"You don't think he would have-"

"Soobin," Yeonjun interrupted his rambling horror. "I'm fine. He didn't. Try to put it out of your mind."

"I'm trying."

His ice pack had reached room temperature by now, and he set it aside, warming his hands back up under the blankets.

"We're going to have dinner, okay?" Yeonjun said softly, still rubbing his skin comfortingly. "And then sleep. And in the morning, we can do anything you want."

His words only frustrated Soobin more. Why wouldn't Yeonjun accept that he was the one who should be shaken up and allow Soobin to protect him instead? Would he always view him as someone who was so tragically delicate?

He would take a hundred more hits if it meant changing Yeonjun's perception of his weakness and naivety.

"I want you to sleep out here," he said, letting his hand fall from Yeonjun's hair to wrap it around his shoulders instead.

"Would that make you feel better?"

The truth hit him then that he would never be able to be Yeonjun's protector, not like this. Yeonjun was in a league of his own, every word and bone in his body primed to take care of someone else. Soobin had been coddled by his parents, his neighbors, even his teachers. Yeonjun had been protecting his mother since the day he was old enough to realize what was happening in his own home. His bandmates looked to him for guidance and leadership. Growing up, he had always been the one looking out for Soobin, too.

All Soobin could do was keep trying, keep showing him that he could shoulder some of his weight.

"What would make you feel better?"

Yeonjun went quiet, like he hadn't even considered it. "I think I would feel safer being with you in case Jiro came back."

Would Soobin's presence make him feel safe? Or was it the thought that Yeonjun would be close enough to defend him that eased his fears?

Now his words were getting all twisted in Soobin's mind. He was confused and frustrated, and his face hurt. Maybe Yeonjun was right, and he just needed to eat something.

"Whatever you want," he eventually conceded, and they exchanged quiet careful words in the dark, waiting for their food but not really. Killing time in the in-between hours of nighttime that they shared, somewhere between life and the death in sleep. He always felt like Yeonjun drifted between those hours, and when Soobin was with him, he unlocked that time, too.

He tried to put what happened out of his mind like Yeonjun said. But every time he looked at him, the memory of Yeonjun's tears and the awful crack of his skull against the wall invaded, and he felt disgusted by his own weakness.

The actual truth was, he waited too long. He should have done something sooner. But he was a coward. Not equipped to defend something as precious as the person lying next to him. And Yeonjun knew that. That's why he spent so much time trying to soothe him, ignoring his own pain in favor of easing Soobin's. He could endure it, but he thought Soobin couldn't.

Yeonjun did end up sleeping beside him that night, after they had roused themselves to eat, talking about mundane things. But Soobin felt him get up during the witching hour, leaving to quietly grab a glass from the kitchen and walk back to his bedroom. He stayed in there for a while, maybe drinking the whiskey beside his bed.

He heard him cry. It was quiet and small, and didn't last long. When Yeonjun came back, he seemed composed again, leaving something on the end table before slipping back under the covers. His skin had gone cold, and so Soobin rolled closer to him, trying to warm him up without revealing he was awake.

And when he woke up the next morning, he was in bed alone. Another dose of painkillers sat on the end table, along with a note from Yeonjun explaining he had run out to grab coffee and would be back shortly, detailing where the ice pack was and what he should do if he felt dizzy standing up.

It was kind. He was so selfless. Soobin wanted to throw up, not just because he felt useless, but because he had misjudged Yeonjun for so long. He had wasted so much time searching out his worst qualities.

Maybe he still had time to change everything.

...

A few weeks had passed since Jiro left. Yeonjun never made mention of it again. Soobin received a chewing out and a half from his mother, who didn't believe for one second his story about being hit by a baseball on accident by one of the neighborhood kids. Just by reading his face, he was sure she could tell he was lying. But her mind jumped to a far worse conclusion, and she gave him a talking to for an hour about how he needed to stay away from gangs and shady dealings, and that this job of his was no excuse to hang around sketchy people and get himself into trouble.

Unfortunately, his job was sort of the direct catalyst for this whole event, so he also couldn't tell her that she was wrong. And sure, maybe he was hanging around some "sketchy" people, but not by choice. He wondered if she would count Yeonjun among them if she knew the extent of everything.

In fact, his mother had been so worried and angry, she summoned his father home from work to back her up, and so he endured the lecturing and hysteria from both of them. His brother tried to pick his mind about what had really happened, but Soobin brushed him off, giving him a half-hearted version of the same story he told his parents.

The swelling went down after the first week, and by the second, his color was almost back to normal. He and Yeonjun took some space from each other for a while. Or rather, Yeonjun took space from him. He said he was busy preparing a new set list, and that they could hang out once this sudden influx from work passed.

Soobin tried not to let it bother him, focusing all-in on his work, too.

Yeonjun didn't post anything on his social media. He didn't text. And based on what Soobin heard from Kai, he only showed up to practice half the time.

He wasn't sure if he felt better or worse about Yeonjun taking a break from the whole world instead of just from him.

And then, that Friday afternoon, he received a text.

Come to the show tonight

Hi. Are you feeling better?

I'm alive

Come to the show

Why? What's happening?

I want to see you

His heart skipped a beat.

We can grab coffee before

No

come watch us play

come watch me

Yeonjun was so insistent, Soobin almost felt suspicious.

Seriously what's going on?

please bin-ah

Soobin should keep pushing him. He was behaving strangely. The sensible thing to do would be to ask for more information, figure out where he had been and what he'd been up to.

Okay. If you really want me to

i really want you to

Within seconds, he received a text from that same unknown number he had a month ago, once again with a scannable QR code and the caption: VIP Entry - from Choi Yeonjun

For some reason, he felt excited. Five minutes ago, he really didn't want to go. Yeonjun's shows were chaotic and loud, and they messed with his head for days after. Soobin was finally starting to regain some clarity with the extended distance between them.

But now that he had the ticket in his hand, he needed to see him.

The venue was in Itaewon, and so getting there was a nightmare. As soon as he stepped off the bus, he entered onto a scene of crowded streets, loud karaoke bars, and restaurants with people spilling out their doors. The shops were all open late, and the tide of people seemed to stream in the same direction Soobin was going, pulled by a divine current.

When he finally reached the building his app led him to, he felt a familiar internal instinct to flee. Another underground club. Once again, a metal staircase led down into a concrete pit, which was already swarmed with people trying to get in. IDs and ticket sales were being triple-checked at the door. Security had gotten tighter since the last time Soobin came.

As soon as the bouncer scanned his QR code, he scrutinized Soobin, then scanned it again. "You a friend of the artist?"

He wanted to figure out whether he had somehow scammed his way into VIP access.

"Yeah, Choi Yeonjun. We grew up together."

The bouncer narrowed his eyes, then murmured something over his radio. Apparently he got the green light, because he nodded and handed Soobin's phone back to him. "They're backstage. Talk to the guy at the door."

Somewhat familiar with this routine by now, Soobin elbowed his way inside and looked around the room. This time, the bar was sectioned off from the rest of the floor with individual seating and lights, and when Soobin glanced up, he saw the venue had a second level with balcony access. There was no other seating, just open pit space, which had already begun to fill up fast. His eyes followed the walls until he noticed the black Staff only door, and he crept along them until he reached it.

There, his ID and ticket were checked yet again before he was let into another twisting dimly lit hallway and directed towards a marked door.

These liminal spaces were all beginning to blur together.

Yeonjun sat alone in the green room, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He wasn't wearing a shirt, the tattoo of his spine rippling against his skin when he moved, the real thing poking up beneath. Soobin felt a distinct sense of deja vu. When he shut the door, Yeonjun didn't turn right away, once again picking at something under his eye.

"I didn't used to have this mole," Yeonjun mused, rubbing over his skin.

"Is that what it is?"

"Yeah. I noticed it the first night you came to interview me. I thought it was makeup. Turns out it was just my body changing."

"It happens. Why'd you invite me tonight?"

Finally, Yeonjun looked his way, gaze sharp and warm. The blackness of his eyeliner increased the intensity of his stare by tenfold. "I told you. I wanted to see you."

"You haven't wanted to see me for weeks."

"I haven't wanted to see anyone," Yeonjun corrected, standing and moving away from the mirror, closer to where Soobin stood by the door. He tilted his head, murmuring, "Did you take it personally?"

"No." Soobin lifted his chin and held his ground even as Yeonjun drew nearer still. "I was just worried about you."

"I'm good at disappearing," he said, now barely an inch between them. He was looking up at Soobin but they both knew he held all the power. "You don't need to worry." Then, he reached up, cupping Soobin's cheek tenderly. "Your face looks much better."

"That's how the passage of time works," he murmured, the edge of his words not lost on Yeonjun, whose pouty lips curled into a half-smile.

"You did take it personally. That's no good, Soobin-ah." He brushed his thumb along Soobin's cheekbone, pressing into the ridge.

He gave up trying to pretend. "How could I not have? I was the last person with you before you went no-contact."

"That's right, you were there. So you could understand why I needed some time."

"I- I do understand," he conceded. And, perhaps to reward him, Yeonjun's thumb pressed against his bottom lip for just a second before he danced away, over to the clothes rack in the corner.

Soobin hadn't stopped to think about what this change in their familiar status quo meant for them, if everything would suddenly be different.

Yeonjun seemed different, less skittish and less burdened by the fears that usually plagued his mind. Instead, he seemed relaxed, moving fluidly and talking in quiet liquid speech. He plucked something off a hanger, and to Soobin it just looked like a pile of black belts until Yeonjun held it up against his body.

It was a leather harness with silver buckle details and clips to hook into whatever he chose to wear underneath. Yeonjun perused the rack for another minute or two before pulling out another hanger, this one with an odd black and grey pant-skirt combo which he compared with the harness. Then, he put the harness back on the rack and pulled out a grey acid washed cropped sweater with major tears in the fabric. He glanced at Soobin. "Which do you think?"

He blinked, unprepared for such an important question. "Which top?"

Yeonjun nodded. "Which would you rather see me in?"

He blinked again. The question suddenly got a lot easier. But again, he posed his own. "Which would I rather see you in or which matches those bottoms better?"

Yeonjun pursed his lips, glancing at the hanger still in his hand. "Both."

"I'd rather see you in the harness," Soobin answered honestly. He wasn't going to lie. "But I think the sweater is a better match."

"Hm." Yeonjun returned to the rack and replaced the items in his hands, extracting a pair of black latex pants and a studded belt. "I'm going to take my pants off," he informed him courteously. "If you'd like to look away."

They both knew Soobin didn't want to look away, but of course he turned his back, scrolling through absolutely nothing of importance on his phone while Yeonjun slipped out of his sweatpants and into whatever he'd just picked out.

"I'm done, but I need your help," was what Yeonjun said next, spiking a brand new sensation through him, somewhere between arousal and fear.

Afraid of what he might find, Soobin pocketed his phone and turned back around slowly.

The pants were sculpted to Yeonjun's thin legs as if he had painted them on, black and glossy like fresh tar, studded belt tied around his tiny waist as tightly as it would go, trailing off down his thigh. He had also slipped the harness over his head, but it was too loose, sitting like an open cage around his naked chest. Yeonjun watched his reaction, and asked innocently, "Would you tighten the straps for me?"

Soobin had never been overcome by fever quite so swiftly. But at least his mouth worked, mumbling, "Of course," and his legs traipsed obediently to Yeonjun's side. The straps were intuitive, sliding between his fingers, the only thing keeping his hands from being all over Yeonjun's skin. He fixed his shoulders first, murmuring, "Is that too tight?"

"No." Yeonjun's voice was breathy, but unfazed. "It's perfect."

Rather than walk behind him, Soobin said quietly, "Turn around," and felt another unfamiliar, rare sensation when Yeonjun did exactly as he said. He turned light on his feet, exposing his back to him, and brushing his hair aside so that Soobin could adjust the strap crossing between his shoulder blades.

He fought against every instinct to allow his eyes to wander. He wouldn't look down. It didn't matter how tightly Yeonjun's pants hugged his body.

The longer he stood there, barely touching him, slipping leather through metal, the more his own pants began to tighten. He hadn't felt like this in years.

It took him too long to remember God, to close his eyes for a moment and swear to repent.

But it didn't matter, because Soobin's next actions were a clear indication that he wasn't looking to atone for his sins any time soon. Instead of having Yeonjun turn again, Soobin hooked his chin over his shoulder and brought his hands around his waist, fixing the strap across his ribcage with Yeonjun's back pressed against him.

He felt Yeonjun's body tremble. Maybe he was cold.

"There," Soobin murmured once he finished, and Yeonjun slowly turned to face him.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked, soft and knowing. His pupils were blown, lips wet, and Soobin knew he needed to get out of there as quickly as possible.

"Yes."

Yeonjun smiled again, and stepped close, looking not at Soobin, but down at his mouth. They shared a breath- he thought he was going to kiss him. Instead, he just whispered, "Good boy," and walked past, retrieving his black jacket from where it hung by the door. "I saved you a spot," he said at regular volume, making Soobin wonder if he had hallucinated what just happened. "Up on the balcony. It's a private table." He shrugged his jacket over his shoulders and leaned against the door.

"Thanks."

"Do you want something to drink? I'll have it sent up."

He licked his dry lips. "Maybe just water."

"Sure. Do you want a glass of wine to go with it?"

"When have I ever?"

Yeonjun shrugged. "You drink it every Sunday at communion."

"Because it's a ritual. You know I don't drink recreationally."

He said exactly what Yeonjun wanted to hear. "This is a bit like a ritual, to me at least. It won't hurt."

"Yeonjun, I don't drink."

"It's not to get drunk. There's nothing in the Bible against that. It's to celebrate."

Soobin pressed his lips into a thin line, trying to work out how he could talk his way out, or perhaps use it to his advantage. "Fine," he agreed. "But only if you drink it with me. After the show."

Yeonjun didn't bother to hide his pleasure. "Sure. I'll drink a bottle, if you want."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he warned.

"I would never." He was still smiling. Then, he clicked his phone on, checked the time, and remarked, "I've got to go. We're on in five and I'm sure everyone's wondering where the fuck I am." How he lived in constant chaos, Soobin would never understand. Yeonjun opened the door and poked his head out, just in time for a staff member to rush over, clearly frazzled. "I'm coming," he reassured her. "Can you take him upstairs? It's Balcony-1."

"If you get backstage right this instant," she urged, motioning for Soobin to follow her. Amazed with his nonchalance, Soobin just shook his head and trailed behind her, glancing back to see Yeonjun disappear out another door.

The balcony view was incredible- Soobin almost felt bad that the band's fans were being deprived of his seat. But he didn't feel that bad once Yeonjun took the stage, and he got to watch him perform front and center. He wore the jacket for half the set, running around to the upbeat tempo of the music and the heavy crashing instrumentals, climbing up amps and hanging in front of stage lights. How he did acrobatics in those pants, Soobin had no idea. But it made him wonder what he was capable of without them. The rest of the band seemed to be in good condition, too. Taehyun was wearing a black vest for once, barely buttoned across his chest, and he played on the left instead of his typical spot on the right.

Beomgyu was up on a platform tonight, raised for the audience to have a better view, and he switched guitars twice throughout the set. His hair hung in his face, but Soobin could still see the content smirk on his lips. He knew he was a master of his craft, and it let him play with Yeonjun onstage. His nails were green and glittery, and when he held his pick between his teeth to get into the strings with his fingers, the crowd went wild.

Kai had just as much energy as ever, though he kept glancing around the venue as though looking for something. When they finally made eye contact, he grinned and relaxed, doing a couple tricks to invigorate the audience between songs. He had been looking for Soobin, and the thought warmed his heart.

The show was almost over before Yeonjun slipped his jacket off, tossing it backstage and striding back to center. He did a little spin as he sang, showing off his pretty body even as his tone took on a gritty quality. Tonight's set was filled with rage. They hadn't done any of their lighthearted pop-leaning songs. Everything was heavy and angry. Soobin sort of liked it. He liked watching Yeonjun transform on stage, playing all kinds of characters. He could be sexy, he could be frightening, twisted, insane, and beautiful. No matter what mask he wore, he commanded all the attention in the room.

Soobin knew from the light chord walkdown they had never played this song before. It wasn't familiar to him. He had been to three of their shows already and heard all of their albums. The chords were pretty, but were soon corrupted by a warbling, disoriented and dirty bassline, underneath which the drums picked up, an insistent kick like the banging of someone's fist against a door. Yeonjun's fingers crept up his throat as he sang the first line, and Soobin squirmed his seat, knowing the torture he was in for.

If he had known Yeonjun would debut this song -filthy, blasphemous, violent, and sensual- he wouldn't have told him to wear that outfit. It was doing things to him he never thought possible. Soobin kept shifting, trying to readjust the weight and heat in his body, but nothing made him comfortable. Yeonjun put on an intoxicating performance, twisting, writhing, praying, and getting on his knees before the crowd.

He wasn't sure how this song had passed with their agency, either, as Yeonjun referenced what a he was...doing to him multiple times.

Unless they hadn't gotten it approved and just decided to play it anyway.

If this was why he begged him to come, Soobin could never forgive him. He felt it altering his brain chemistry, pictures being burned into his mind the second they formed.

And then they finished. It was unceremonious. They thanked the crowd and then left them in the dark.

It was obvious to him that Yeonjun had devised this setlist when he was pissed off and horny. Little demon.

Once the house lights came back up to half, someone stepped out onto the balcony, placing a bottle of red wine on his table along with two glasses and another water. He shouldn't have played Yeonjun's game at all. Bargaining with him was as good as losing.

He looked down at the crowd below, most of whom had devolved into drinking and revelry, until the door opened again. He knew it was Yeonjun just from the cadence of his steps. Still, he waited a moment to look at him, instead watching a pair of men link their arms and do shots on the dance floor. They seemed happy, laughing with one another and holding hands even once their glasses were empty.

Yeonjun dragged the chair out opposite him and sat. Soobin eventually looked his way. He hadn't changed, making the two of them the oddest pair to sit down across a table. Soobin in his business-casual collared shirt and navy slacks. Yeonjun in his leather and latex.

"Are you going to make me pour?" Yeonjun asked, head tilted in the way that always suggested he was baiting an answer.

Feeling as though it were some sort of contractual obligation, Soobin lifted the wine bottle and carefully filled one glass a third of the way, sliding it across to Yeonjun, then did the same for the other.

Yeonjun smiled, and lifted his glass in a toast. Reluctantly, Soobin clinked against it, knowing Yeonjun would wait for him to drink.

All he could do was take the plunge.

It was better than the wine they had at communion, rich and smooth. It wasn't necessarily sweet, but he didn't mind the taste half as much as he thought he would.

Still, Soobin set it aside as soon as he'd tasted it, watching Yeonjun drink instead. He sipped, then swirled his glass, observing Soobin like a particularly interesting art piece.

"Did you enjoy the show?"

"I always do. Though tonight you seemed a little...more fired up than usual."

"I have a lot of things to work through."

"I could tell."

"What about our last song? It's new."

Unsure of any other way to buy himself time, Soobin took another drink. The wine wet his lips, and he wondered if they would stain. "I didn't like it."

Yeonjun raised his eyebrows, more curious than hurt. "Why not?"

He hated that his only distraction was to keep drinking. He set the glass aside for a second. "Singing those things in front of all those people...it felt to me like something that should be kept private."

With a smirk, Yeonjun said, "That's what makes it controversial. Creates buzz. Intrigue. People stopping to think Can they actually do that? And the answer is yes. As long as I'm in charge, at least." Then he shrugged. "My vision is bold. Songs like that..." he waved his fingers. "They're a means to an end."

"It would have scandalized me coming from anyone. It just made me angry coming from you."

Even more intrigued, Yeonjun leaned forward. "Why is that, Bin-ah?"

He shook his head. His lips were getting too loose. "Forget it," he muttered.

"Do you not want other people to picture it? To picture me like that, legs spread for a man that's going to-"

"I don't," he spoke up sharply before Yeonjun could finish his sentence, and it was so obvious how he just wanted to incite a reaction from him, and like always, Soobin rose to the bait.

Yeonjun rested his cheek on his hand. "Cutie." He took another sip of his wine, glass rapidly emptying. When Soobin glanced at his own, he realized it had gone down even faster. "Do you want another?"

He shook his head. Even one was enough to keep his blood warm and his head a little foggier than usual.

Yeonjun poured him a second glass anyway in the process of filling his own. "You know, I'm usually not a wine drinker. But it's kind of nice. Forces me to take my time."

"Yeonjun, what do you want?"

He couldn't hold it in anymore. Everything felt different tonight. Yeonjun was treating him differently. Soobin felt like he was being manipulated but couldn't explain how.

It took him a second, but Yeonjun eventually replied, "Your forgiveness."

Confused, he asked, "For what?"

"For a lot of things. For the time I kissed you, for the last night we were together, for not speaking to you after, for teasing you about your faith and for making you listen to me rant about God. For cutting off our friendship and for punishing your attempts at fixing things. I'm sorry."

That wasn't the response he had been expecting. He had been braced for so many other things, predictable things that he had the wherewithal to prepare for.

A genuine apology wasn't one of them.

"Yeonjun, half of those things I never thought you needed to apologize for, and the other half, I'm just as much at fault."

"Why are you so kind?"

"I'm not," he replied, serious as ever. "I'm being honest. You don't need to apologize for teasing me, or for telling me about how you sometimes question your faith, or for being vulnerable for once after finally getting rid of your ex, or even for kissing me. And I'm half the reason our friendship broke down, and I punished you just as much for trying to reconnect with me. Honestly, the only thing you need to apologize for is not speaking to me these past few weeks. Which you already did. So it's over now. We're good."

His hands were shaking a little, and he drank just to give them something to do.

"We're good?" Yeonjun repeated, drawing his own glass closer to him with a finger.

"More than good. I think."

He definitely shouldn't be drinking if his sentences were already that revealing. But Yeonjun just gave a little smile and said, "Okay."

Really, what Yeonjun should be apologizing for was the corruption of his mind. Soobin could feel it slipping, remembering the intensity between them in the green room, and he wondered how the wine would look dripping from Yeonjun's mouth, down his red lips, past the graceful column of his throat, slipping down his ribcage, pooling in his navel alongside his piercing.

"Are you hot?" Yeonjun asked, observing Soobin's apparent flushed appearance from the way his imagination ran and the way he shifted in his seat.

"Y-yeah, I guess so." He must be. He definitely was. It was the wine and the noise from everything happening downstairs. The stimulation had his body in fight or flight mode and the drinking made him sweat.

Yeonjun nodded and took a sip of his water. Then he leaned across the table and gently held the back of Soobin's head, closer as if to kiss him.

His heart rate spiked but he was too much of a coward to recoil -or perhaps too invested in what Yeonjun might do- and shut his eyes only to feel a cold sensation against his lips. Yeonjun held an ice cube in his mouth, and the cold felt like a sweet reprieve from the wine, an oasis Yeonjun offered to him on one sinful condition.

It wet his own lips with condensation, Yeonjun's breath slowly melting it, and Soobin parted them.

Like the liberation of the destitute, it felt as though shackles were lifted from him, his shame bleeding out and dissipating into the ice. Yeonjun pushed it into his mouth with his tongue, subtle and sexy like always, and went to withdraw from him, but Soobin grabbed the front of his harness and sucked on his tongue. Yeonjun similarly melted, returning Soobin's kiss slowly, water dripping past their lips. Soon enough, there was no pretense between them, mouths ice cold but breath hot and desperate. Still, without urgency, as though under the strobe lights and within the madness, they had all the time in the world. Soobin's fingers crept under the leather, drawing him as close as they could get, feeling the softness of his skin and letting him breathe while he kissed his cheek, then his throat. He could feel the shivers race through Yeonjun's body from the frigidness of each one.

Finally, he lifted his head, only to find Yeonjun already watching him, gaze dark and heavy. "Is that what you wanted?" Soobin asked quietly, brushing away the ice water that had trickled down his chin.

"More, maybe, than I thought I would get."

"What if someone was watching?" Soobin did the same for Yeonjun, using his thumb to wipe away the water gleaming under the lights from his lips. They had been stained plum, just like he thought.

With sincerity, Yeonjun said, "Someone's always watching."

He could be referring to the crowd or to God. Either one gave Soobin chills, but he didn't know if it was in anticipation of some sort of reckoning or fear.

"You liked it, though." Yeonjun's whispers always circled around him, resembling the poisonous voice in the back of his head.

Soobin raised his eyebrows. "Why do you sound surprised?"

His infatuation with Yeonjun wasn't a secret. His fear of the way it would inevitably destroy him was the only problem.

"I guess I thought...you would be more nervous. I was ready for you to bolt."

Soobin glanced at the throng of people grinding, holding drinks, and shoving their fists in the air. "You don't give me enough credit."

The fact that he kept coming back to places like this should have been the first clue that his worldview was shifting.

"No." Yeonjun sounded mildly impressed. "Apparently I don't." He took another sip of his wine, then cocked his head and asked, "Would you do it again?"

"Are you offering?"

He smiled. "Not now."

"Then I don't know."

"Always playing hard to get," Yeonjun murmured into his glass. "So mysterious."

"I'm not trying to be mysterious." Soobin took a drink of his own, wanting to quench the fire with something. "You're overthinking it. I'm just not sure how I'll feel if the time comes."

"So it felt right tonight?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. I guess so." Then, "I told you I wouldn't unless he was out of the picture."

"Well, he's gone, isn't he?"

"Yeah." He hesitated, then started to ask, "You weren't...thinking of me, were you? When you ended things."

Yeonjun sat back in his seat, watching him carefully. "Does it matter?"

Soobin swallowed and shook his head. "No."

“I understand why you might think that. But I need you to know that I ended things for me. And I spent a lot of time thinking about what I want, or if I even want another guy in my life at all. That’s why I needed space. What I didn’t want was to string you along while I figured myself out. That wouldn’t be fair. And I…I hope we can still be friends. But I’d understand if that was asking too much of you.”

“I think I can manage that just fine. It’s not that serious to me, hyung. I don’t want you to worry about it.”

Yeonjun pursed his lips, not believing him but also not wanting to argue the point any further.

“Were you there when he called me ‘a desperately horny rabbit’?”

“Um, I was,” he admitted after stalling for a second. It felt like a trick question.

“He was right, you know. I am exactly what he said. I struggle mentally if I don’t feel physically pretty, or like my body isn’t pleasing someone else. It’s strange. I don’t know how I got this way. It’ll be different with him gone. More difficult. I hate one-night stands.” He shook his head. “I’m rambling.”

"You're so confusing," Soobin murmured, continuing to drink. He wasn't trying to entice chance and happenstance. He just didn't know what else to do."

"I know," Yeonjun agreed with a sigh. "Sorry."

"It's not a bad thing. I just never know what you're trying to get at."

"I don't even know half the time." At least he was able to joke, shaking some of the seriousness that had overtaken him a moment ago. "Thanks for coming again. I'm sure you're sick of us by now."

Soobin shook his head. "You guys are great, I don't think I'll ever be able to get sick of you. It's tiring, though. I'm not a social person, and I'm definitely not a late-night social person."

"Sorry we don't perform midday."

"I think that would kind of kill the vibe."

"At least you understand."

"Next time, can we hang out at your place again?"

Yeonjun smiled and nodded, finishing his second glass of wine. "You like it better?"

"It's quiet."

"We can do that," he agreed, and set his wine glass aside. "Though, this was a fun little date, too."

Soobin raised his eyebrows. "You can call it that if you'd like." He wasn't so easily persuaded, and something about his expression made Yeonjun laugh. He stood before Yeonjun, feeling as though their evening was coming to an end, and wanting to be the person who left first for once. He slipped a few bills from his wallet, setting them on the table in front of him. "That's for the wine. Finish it for me."

Yeonjun caught his wrist and placed a kiss on the back of his hand, then looked up at him with his playfully hypnotic gaze. "That's for the pleasure of your company."

Why did that simple action make him harder than when they had actually kissed?

Soobin slipped his hand out of his grasp, ruffling his hair as he walked past. "Goodnight, Yeonjun."

"Night," his silky soft voice answered from behind, following Soobin all the way downstairs and out the door, and even into his dreams.

At this point, he knew without a doubt: he was in way over his head.

...

It took Soobin a long time to notice. They had been sitting there for a while on the floor, murmuring quiet phrases but not really saying much. Yeonjun was drinking and Soobin was lost in his own thoughts, scrolling through his company's website and reading the comments under his latest work. It was only when he turned his head to check if Yeonjun had dozed off that he saw the sketchbook in his lap.

He had been drawing the entire time.

Soobin frowned, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better look. "What are you doing?"

Yeonjun waved a hand at him, shooing him away. "Stay like that."

He had been drawing...him?

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Lay back down."

Confused but always compliant, he laid back down on the carpet, resisting the urge to pry Yeonjun's sketchbook away and see what he had been working on.

"Why would you want to draw me?" he asked the ceiling.

"Because. I think you're beautiful," Yeonjun replied easily, as though the words didn't mean anything at all. "Any chance you might be willing to take off your shirt?"

"You still only do nudes?"

"I'll compromise halfway for you."

Soobin shrugged, then sat up just enough to lift his white t-shirt up and over his head. He had seen Yeonjun shirtless. Yeonjun had only seen his body in semi-darkness, though he had been pressed against him, surely not looking at all. A small weird part of him figured this was only fair.

He was sort of cold from the draft, but his discomfort felt more internal than anything. Yet...the feeling wasn't discomfort, exactly. It was something more anticipatory.

Yeonjun fell silent again, the only sounds coming from the ceiling fan and the scratch of pencil against paper. Sometimes Yeonjun would rub the graphite with his ring finger, and it would come away black and metallic, but it didn't seem to bother him.

"Do you still draw a lot?"

"Not really. I do the cover art for our albums. That's about it."

"Do you miss it?"

"Of course I do," he murmured, pausing to lift his tumbler to his lips with the hand still holding his pencil. "Stop looking at me. You're ruining the angle."

"Sorry," he mumbled, turning his head straight again.

"It took me a long time to realize that art school was the problem, and not me," Yeonjun spoke, returning to the page. Soobin could hear him add a few light lines. The scratch of it so distinct, bringing him back to high school, sitting in the back of an academy classroom. He wrote his papers while Yeonjun sketched. They used to just sit there in silence long past the time the sun went down. "We just didn't resonate. And maybe if I had gone somewhere else, somewhere with a program that valued my art and my perspective, my life would be on a totally different trajectory." Soobin nodded along even though he knew he was supposed to be keeping still. "I don't think I'm very sensitive," he continued to explain quietly. "So I don't know why those classes and professors got under my skin so much."

"You are sensitive," Soobin disagreed. "But not about your art. You've always been able to take criticism well."

"I know. It's strange, isn't it?" He fell silent for a few moments, focusing on the details of his work, then asked, "What about you? Did you ever get critiqued in university?"

Soobin laughed. "All the time. I have two undergrad degrees. Both in arts, so double the artistic scrutiny. The media and communication one wasn't so bad, except for the fact that half of my assignments were filmed and shown to an auditorium of two hundred students weekly. The writing one was obviously worse. Less time spent on actual critiquing, but imagine spending forty hours writing a twenty-five page paper and then submitting it to be ripped apart and workshopped into something completely different by the end of the week. Every week. It definitely wore on me."

Yeonjun had stopped sketching, and was instead looking at Soobin. "How did you endure it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I have thick skin, I guess. I just...really wanted to be better. So I took all the criticism in stride. And if I really disagreed with a comment I received, even after reflection, then I just didn't take it into account. You don't have to accept every critique you get. Sometimes, they're just not helpful. But you have to decide why that is for yourself."

"Hm." Yeonjun glanced back down at his paper, eyes narrowed, holding his pencil at the very front to add something miniscule. "You've always been really wise. I wish I had your constitution."

"Not my intelligence?" he joked.

"No," Yeonjun flatly turned him down. "I think it's because you're so smart that you're in a constant existential crisis. If you learned to turn your brain off every now and again, you'd be a lot happier."

Soobin chuckled, then looked back up at the ceiling. "You know, this is kind of like therapy. I like it."

"What, laying on my living room floor and listening to my bad advice? You like that?"

They had done it enough times by now for it to feel routine.

"Yeah. I do."

"What else do you like?"

Soobin glanced over at him. Yeonjun had flipped his sketchbook upside-down, and it sort of hung suspended in his hand. "I used to like your art a lot. Can I see what you drew?"

Instead of saying that it wasn't finished or that he had just been drawing for fun, Yeonjun wordlessly handed over the sketchbook. Soobin sat up and flipped it over to look at the page he had been working on.

It had been so long since Soobin saw one of Yeonjun's original pieces. He had forgotten how beautiful they were.

It was a top-down perspective of him laid out on the floor, one arm resting on his stomach, the other behind his head. And it was undoubtedly him because even through the curled lines, blurred edges, and hazy filter of Yeonjun's artistic style, he knew the details of his body so well. The planes of his chest, the shadows of his throat, the rounded tip of his nose. His expression was serene but non-distinct. Capturing the beauty of the mundane through an erotic lens. He had one knee bent towards the ceiling -or the viewer's perspective- his hand resting above the waistband of his jeans. They were detailed, but still sketched in a way that flowed with the rest of the piece.

"You don't usually draw clothes."

"I figured I wasn't going to get you naked."

"I expected you to just make something up," he admitted. Yeonjun's style had always been focused on the human form, which never really struck Soobin as odd. They grew up surrounded by religious artwork- statues, stained glass, figures. Nudity wasn't uncommon in the art Yeonjun saw every day. Of course it would have influenced him.

"Draw what I think your dick looks like? Wouldn't that be an invasion of privacy?"

"Maybe," he conceded again.

Yeonjun tilted his head, hearing something in the tone of his voice. "Did you want me to?"

"No," he quickly said, feeling the tips of his ears turn red. "At that point, you might as well just-" He cut himself off before his mouth got ahead of his brain.

But Yeonjun blinked, looking coy and curious, asking, "I might as well what? Sketch the real thing?" When Soobin wrestled with an answer, Yeonjun leaned in, slipping his sketchbook out of his hands and returning it to his lap. "Are you worried I wouldn't get it right?"

"Maybe," he repeated, breath threatening to leave his lungs.

"Go on, then," Yeonjun said softly, and he had the eraser in his hands now, braced against the lower half of the page. He stalled, trying to process the actual implications of what he meant through his tone. "It's art, Soobin-ah," Yeonjun added when he noticed him hesitating. "It's only weird if you make it weird."

"I don't think it's weird," he murmured. He didn't have to let Yeonjun have a leash on him like this. His scent and his touch and the words that left his lips. He teased him because he knew he could. He knew Soobin would squirm and seek escape, and he knew he would get to watch and laugh, always feeling like the man in control. "If you're going to sketch me, I want it to be authentic. Part of your collection. Not a compromise that doesn't fit in anywhere." As soon as he said the sentence, he felt liberated. It was so simple. He slipped his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, mildly surprised when Yeonjun turned his head to give him privacy, instead downing the rest of his drink.

Perhaps he needed his own sort of resolve after all.

"Okay." Yeonjun poured himself another drink, avoiding eye contact, and Soobin slid his sweatpants off. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No," he turned down his offer the same as he always did. It was like Yeonjun thought they were incapable of sitting in the same room sober. Or maybe he wanted Soobin to drink and let his guard down. Either way, he knew he didn't want the same thing.

His boxers came off next and he thought he would feel more embarrassed, but it was just Yeonjun there. They were in the privacy of his own place. He didn't think he had a model's figure or anything, but he had also never thought of himself as unattractive; he worked out a few times a week, had good genetics, and honestly didn't care that much.

"Same pose?"

"Yeah." Yeonjun finished that drink, too, and poured a third.

He must be more nervous than he let on.

"Don't get too drunk, I want it to look nice," he complained as he laid back down.

"It would take a pair of cursed hands to fuck up a reference like yours," Yeonjun muttered, but he set his glass aside and pulled his sketchbook back into his lap.

"Is that a compliment?" He glanced over at him, only to find Yeonjun's gaze tracing his body, up and down over every line, singularly focused and enraptured. He lingered longer than necessary, but Soobin told himself it was justified for the artist's perspective.

"Yeah. What did I say about looking at me?"

"Sorry," he murmured, but felt himself smiling. They both fell silent for a while. Soobin closed his eyes, taking solace in the darkness and the sound of his pencil working once more.

"Hm. It'd be better if you were hard," Yeonjun eventually sighed, wiping away his eraser sheddings.

"That's a little too far."

"I'm just saying."

"Use your imagination. Besides, what's wrong with it soft?"

"It's harder to sketch."

"Why?" He didn't know anything about it.

"Well, it's easy to express that a dick is flaccid through the size and angle. But..."

Soobin frowned, then turned over to look at Yeonjun. "Are you saying my flaccid dick is too big?" He couldn't believe it was even a question he had to ask.

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes, only glaring at him for a moment before looking back down at his sketchbook. "Maybe."

"You're a good artist. You'll figure it out."

He refused to get self-conscious now.

"Thanks," Yeonjun muttered. Then, as he readjusted his angle of attack, he asked, "Where does your mom think you are?"

Soobin winced. "That's not a good way to get me in the mood if that's what you're going for."

"Ha ha."

"I tell her I'm working late and staying with a friend on the same side of town. It's not untrue."

"I wouldn't expect you to lie," he replied. "That's not like you." Then, he pursed his lips, gaze still downcast as he asked, "Do you think she would mind if the friend was me?"

The question took him by surprise. He'd never really thought about it before. "No. My mom loves you. Always has. She asks about you all the time."

"I like your mom a lot, too," he murmured, smudging something on the page with his thumb.

Soobin waited a second before asking, "What about your mom? How...how is she doing?"

Was this an appropriate conversation to have at a time like this? They had already blasphemed enough, he supposed. One more couldn't hurt.

Yeonjun exhaled, as if bracing his breath for the words he needed to say, but still took his time answering. "She's...okay. Honestly, I'm kind of deluding myself into thinking everything's going to work itself out. She needs professional help. I just don't know how to bring it up with her."

"What kind of help?"

"I don't think she can be by herself anymore. And I'm not qualified to take care of her."

"Would getting off her medication help?"

Yeonjun shook his head. "She's on it for a reason. I know everything looks okay from the outside but...she really needs it to function."

"You can tell me if this is crossing a line but...what's wrong, exactly?"

Sighing, Yeonjun traced over some of his old lines with his finger, just needing something to look at. "She has bipolar disorder. And it's one of those things where it feels like there's no winning. If she's on the medication she needs, then she's gone from the world. It's like she can't feel anything. She's tired all the time, she forgets stuff, and nothing makes her happy. If she's off of it, then she's feeling again, but it's all way too much. She's either depressed or manic and there's no in-between. And it's- she's a danger to herself, honestly. It's not like she's mentally incompetent, she just can't make level-headed decisions, and it's like she's seeking some sort of impossible high. I don't know. I'm not bipolar, so I don't know how to describe it. It's just...what I see. And how she talks about it. I don't think she needs to be on sedatives, but apparently her doctor thinks all of her problems would just sort themselves out if she slept more. She's sleeping more than half the day, and has been for the past fifteen years, but what do I know?"

There wasn't anything Soobin could say to make it better. "Does she still work?"

"She cleans for one of the chaebol families up in the hills. It's the same family she's been working for since my dad left. But that's pretty much all she does. Work and sleep. Honestly, I just want to make enough money to get her the help she needs. An actual psychologist, consistent counseling, in-house support. Not just a doctor looking to rush through to his next patient so he can end his day faster."

"I didn't know bipolar disorder was that bad."

"It isn't always," he said, pressing his pencil back to the paper. "I think it's a combination of that, her depression, and the trauma my dad left her with. It's just not manageable for her on her own." Then, Yeonjun peered at him over the edge of his sketchbook and asked, "You feel bad enough for me yet to kiss me?"

"No, but nice try. I think you're a good son who's stuck in a really shitty situation. I don't think kissing me is going to make you feel better."

"You never know," he hummed, but had a melancholic little half-smile on his face. Then, in a more serious tone, he added, "Sorry for bumming you out."

"I asked," he pointed out. "I do care, you know. I've been worried about it since that day I brought your mail over."

"I'm surprised it took you that long to pick up on it," Yeonjun admitted.

He shrugged. "I only ever see her in church. She seems happy there. Even in high school, we never hung out at your house."

"That's true."

"Thanks for telling me."

Yeonjun matched his shrug. "Thanks for listening. Your dick is still soft."

"You're so irreverent. I told you that wasn't going to do it in the slightest."

"You sure you don't want to kiss me?"

Soobin rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Yes, Yeonjun."

"You know, I don't think you're actually gay."

His eyes went wide, and he couldn't help but look back over at Yeonjun. They had never just said it outright before. It was maybe his first time hearing the word even vaguely in context to himself, even if he had thought it over enough to have it etched across his mind.

"Well, I know I'm not straight, so where does that leave me?" The question was only half-joke. A part of him desperately wished Yeonjun had a real answer.

"Maybe you're not anything at all," Yeonjun suggested nonchalantly, attention back on his work. "Just because being with women hasn't worked for you doesn't mean being with guys will. Of course, you won't know until you try, but sexuality is more complicated than just straight or gay."

"Why don't you think I'm...that I like guys?"

"Because you're twenty-four and you've never even considered experimenting. I know I tease you all the time, but at some point, other guys would've taken me up on my jokes or returned the attitude. You don't, though. So...I get the vibe that I'm kind of pushing the boundaries of what you're actually comfortable with, and I don't think you're comfortable thinking of yourself as gay." Yeonjun erased something else, brushing his paper again.

Soobin tried to reflect on what he said, and if it felt authentic to him at all. "I'm not comfortable thinking of myself that way. But that doesn't make it...untrue. I've just never had a way to get comfortable with it, if you know what I mean."

"I don't, really," he replied honestly.

"You've always been comfortable with it?"

He shrugged. "I guess I never got the choice. I was punished for being gay since I was four. Even when I had no idea what that meant. Obviously, I am gay, but sometimes I feel like I wasn't allowed to be anything else, either. I don't know. Boring father-trauma aside, it's just always been a part of my reality. Doesn't mean it was comfortable, but it was always true."

"I think I'm too old to start experimenting," Soobin admitted, existentialism threatening to creep into his head and consume him once more.

"No, you're not. But you are too old to not have tried anything at all. A quarter of your life is over. Have you ever even had a crush?"

Yeah, on you.

It was so funny to him that Yeonjun thought maybe he was this sexual enigma who wasn't aroused by anything, or hadn't felt all the telltale signs of wanting someone. Just because Soobin never made any explicit moves when they were younger. He thought kissing him might have clued Yeonjun in, but apparently all it did was make Soobin seem even more confusing.

He shrugged. "I don't know. By the time I realized what that was, I think I had already outgrown it. My family was always really conservative about that sort of thing. I didn't know anything came before marriage until I was thirteen. And even then, no one explained to me how I was supposed to feel about the person that I liked."

"You never outgrow that feeling," Yeonjun murmured, working now on the very bottom of the page. "You just start giving it a different name and better justifications."

"I think I've outgrown it now," he admitted.

His feelings towards Yeonjun transcended the word crush. They were too old for that, and Soobin wouldn't be able to explain what he liked about him at gunpoint. His mouth would never let him put words to the feelings. He knew he wanted Yeonjun in a way that he shouldn't. A way that had nothing to do with marriage, or chastity, or virtue.

Yeonjun still spoke to his sketchbook as he asked, "Your entire life, you've never had romantic feelings towards anyone?"

Soobin would feel wrong classifying his feelings for Yeonjun as romantic when the thought of taking him on a date and all the anxiety it would entail made him sick with butterflies. And anticipation. "No, I guess I haven't."

He didn't usually lie. Especially not to Yeonjun.

"Maybe you can't, then."

"I can," he said a little too quickly. "It's not like that. I know there are some people who never feel that way, but I don't think my situation is the same. It's more like..." He sighed, resting his arm above his eyes to give him a brief reprieve in darkness. "I wouldn't feel right. Letting myself want someone like that."

"Soobin, it's the most natural thing in the world. Do you think your parents are wrong for loving each other?"

"No." He sighed again. "I'm explaining myself wrong. I only feel that way when it applies to me."

"You think..." Yeonjun's voice trailed off, and it took him a moment to regain his train of thought. "You think you're undeserving of love?"

It wasn't exactly right, but it wasn't wrong, either. "Maybe. I've never done anything to earn it. I've never tried to be someone worth loving."

"People love you not because you try to be worthy, but because of who you already are. Holding yourself to that kind of standard is just going to cause you pain." He could hear Yeonjun smudging the graphite on his paper again. "You have higher expectations for yourself than anyone will ever have for you."

"Then why hasn't anyone fallen in love with me?"

"You've never been willing to receive it."

He frowned, and let his arm fall back down at his side. "What does that mean?"

"Soobin, you've never been open to love. You don't let other people in. You keep everyone at an arm's length because it makes you feel safe."

"That's not true. I'm just not good at talking to people."

Yeonjun didn't dignify his response with a glance, instead still laser-focused on his sketch. "You're good at talking to people. You just don't enjoy it, and so you don't go out of your way to do it. That makes it sort of hard for anyone to approach you with the intention of building a relationship."

"What makes you the expert on this, exactly?"

"I've observed your behavior for the past twenty-five years and it hasn't changed. I was not surprised at all when your mom started complaining to me at church about you still being single."

"My mom complained to you about me being single?"

"Of course. She doesn't understand at all why her handsome, successful, and sweet boy has still never brought anyone home for her to meet."

"Okay, but why would she complain to you?"

"Because she knows I've dated in the past. And because we have so much in common, she was trying to figure out what you're doing wrong."

"I'm sorry, my mom knew about your boyfriend?"

He shrugged. "She knew I was dating someone. I didn't specify his gender." When Soobin sat up and gave him an incredulous look, Yeonjun had the decency to look at least mildly guilty. "She also knows we've broken up. She talks to me every week."

"Yeah, I know that. I watch her walk over there."

"I don't know why you're freaking out, then."

"I'm coming with her next time," Soobin muttered under his breath, reluctantly resuming his position. "I don't like the idea of the two of you chatting behind my back."

"Your mom is cool. You're really lucky to have her."

"I know that, too."

"I'm almost done," Yeonjun let him know. "You can put your pants back on if you want."

"Not my shirt, though?" he teased as he slid his boxers back up and grabbed his sweatpants.

"That's a personal choice."

Soobin smiled and stood to get his pants back on before sitting down next to Yeonjun. "Alright, let's see."

Once again, he handed over his sketchbook and reclined to let Soobin look over his work.

The piece had taken on an entirely different aura. In truth, the utter exposure of his body erased the suggestiveness of the original and replaced it with an unflinching reverence for the naked human form. In its complete bareness, the piece disavowed anyone who would criticize its sexuality and instead transcended past such an argument to instead reflect on the marvel of God's creation. Through the artist's eyes, the muse's figure took on a beauty and mystique that brought into question the essence of humanity, portrayed through the blurred indistinct lines of Yeonjun's hand. Every detail had been painstakingly recreated, but still they looked indefinite. As if his form were subject to change, captured through the lens of a removed spiritual plane, a step sideways and away from reality.

He had never seen himself in such a profound and beautiful light.

"This is...incredible," he breathed. It was Yeonjun's art as he remembered, the raw depiction of humanity wrapped up in eroticism, but brought to completely new heights. "Hyung, you've gotten even better."

Even with how beautiful the sketch looked, Soobin felt his cheeks flush as he briefly glanced over the one part he couldn't bear to view straight on. He knew Yeonjun was going to capture it, but knowing that in his head and seeing it on paper were two different things.

Still, he had been objective in his depiction. It looked natural. And seeing his own body through the eyes of someone else made him feel slightly less self-conscious about it.

"You like it?"

"Of course." He finally tore his gaze from the sketchbook to Yeonjun, who sat watching him intently. The intensity of his stare sent a shiver of heat through Soobin's body. "It makes me kind of nervous, in a way, but there's no denying your talent."

"What makes you nervous?"

Soobin glanced down at the sketch one more time before admitting in a soft voice, "To think you could see something like this when you look at me."

Yeonjun sat up slowly, took in a small breath, so quiet and perfect Soobin could hear it captured between his lips, and he slid the book from his hands. "Why does that make you nervous?"

His eyes were dark and endless, hiding something Soobin had always wished he could parse out but had always fallen short of drawing from him. He knew the blood pounding in his ears and coursing through his veins only flowed with such fervor because it was Yeonjun looking at him like this. Shadowed in temptation, beckoning not even with touch or words, but the magnetism of his gaze.

"You..." he swallowed, "make me nervous."

Yeonjun tilted his head, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as he did so, as if he knew the power their connection had over Soobin. "Because you don't trust me...or because you don't even like the thought of me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he breathed, half-angry, but wound so tight he didn't know where that anger ended and the gnawing void that craved Yeonjun began.

"What?" He blinked so innocently, pretending to be unaware of the crisis happening within Soobin's mind and body even though he had to know the turmoil he caused. "I want to hear what you have to say. I can take it."

"You can't."

Soobin hadn't meant to say it so harshly, but Yeonjun's surprise was reflected onto his face, a strange recoil that struck like static between them.

"Say it," he coerced, now doubly interested. He went so far as to rest his hand on Soobin's knee, and he thought the warmth from that touch alone would set him ablaze in cleansing fire. "Tell me what you're so afraid of, Soobin-ah."

"This," Soobin broke, holding up his sketch with a shaking hand. "The idea that..."

"That I think you're beautiful? Does that disgust you?" His words were sharp, but his tone slid soft as silver, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with desire.

"No. It..." Even his words were trembling now, and he didn't know how else to express the brewing need in him. He should've had more tact but his mind couldn't think that far ahead, and so instead, he simply took Yeonjun's hand from where it rested on his knee and placed it in his lap, over the obvious growing hardness in his sweatpants. All Yeonjun had to do was turn the conversation towards himself if he really wanted Soobin to be affected. Revealing how Soobin felt about him was the most intoxicating sensation in the world.

"It turns you on," Yeonjun finished for him, saying the words he couldn't. Just having his hand there, touching Soobin through his clothes, was enough for him to forget how to breathe. "Soobin-ah...that's something I can't help you with."

"I don't- I'm not asking for that," he stammered even as he felt the color in his face deepen. "I just want you to understand. I'm not...I know that I'm gay. I think this is proof of that."

Yeonjun smiled, sweet and seductive, as if he thought Soobin was the cutest thing in the world. "Maybe it is..." he murmured, then said, "I wasn't saying I couldn't help with this-" he emphasized the last word with a gentle squeeze of his dick through his sweats, and Soobin shut his eyes, afraid he would explode then and there. "I meant I can't help the fact that my attention turns you on."

"Oh."

Carefully, as if his words were made of glass, Yeonjun asked, "Do you want my help?"

His question hung suspended in the air between them, a choice Soobin knew the consequences of would ripple out and change the trajectory of his life forever.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Hm." Yeonjun dragged his thumb along the outline of his bulge. Soobin fought to keep his hips still. "Tell me that you need it."

He had never been in a situation like this before, never even allowed himself to contemplate it.

He felt like his nerves were firing at both ends, if that was even possible. Every sensation enhanced. "I- I..."

"It would make me so happy, Bin-ah."

He shut his eyes and whispered, "I need it."

"Do you really want me to?" Yeonjun murmured even as he fingered the waistband of his pants. "Would it be the first time anyone's touched you like that?"

He nodded. The answer to both questions was a resounding but unspoken yes. And they both knew it.

Yeonjun didn't bare him to the world again, at least not at first. He simply slipped his hand past the waistband of Soobin's boxers, taking care to drag his fingers down his skin before reaching around the length of his dick. He held him for a second, and Soobin was so on edge that even the envelopment of his palm made him feel on the brink of sin. Yeonjun eased him out of his boxers just as he was getting used to the warmth of his hand, lifting his dick and giving it a few gentle tugs.

Soobin wanted to open his eyes but was too afraid that the situation might disappear like a dream if he did.

"Is that okay?" He spoke so sweetly, words swirling around Soobin's ears distracting his mind from shattering the pleasant haze his body was experiencing as Yeonjun tightened his grip ever so slightly and began jerking him off with slow, leisurely movements.

He nodded again, but Yeonjun chided him.

"I'm going to need more than that."

"Yes," he exhaled shakily.

"Do you like it slow like this? Or faster? Wetter, maybe?"

A picture of Yeonjun's pretty round lips glossed with alcohol or something else crept into his mind, so vivid that his dick twitched in Yeonjun's hand, and he quickly shook his head. "This- this is good."

"What are you thinking about?"

He didn't understand how Yeonjun could sound so calm and put together while Soobin was falling to pieces in his hand.

"Y-you," he answered truthfully.

Yeonjun rewarded his honesty by increasing the speed of his hand, showing Soobin that maybe he didn't like it slow after all as he now had barely any time to recover, and he wondered if this felt close to the real thing. And if it didn't, how incredibly overpowering sex must be.

"What about me?"

Part of him wished Yeonjun would stop talking, not because he didn't want to drown in the sound of his voice, but because he had nothing clean to say in return. All of his questions warranted embarrassingly filthy answers.

"Come on," he coaxed. As he did so, he rubbed along the vein that ran the length of his dick's underside with his thumb, up to where it met the tip, and Soobin involuntarily thrust into his hand. "Tell me."

"Your mouth," he surrendered, fighting not to chase that feeling again. And because he didn't want Yeonjun to keep pushing and finding ways to elicit responses from them, he gave up more. "How pretty it is."

"Thinking about my mouth while I'm jerking you off..." Yeonjun mused. "How ungrateful."

He hadn't meant it like that but still found himself mumbling, "I'm sorry."

"You should be. Here I am servicing your big useless cock because I'm so nice, and you have the nerve to want more. Next you're going to say you were thinking about fucking me."

A sound escaped his throat, something small and pathetic, and he felt himself thrusting back into Yeonjun's hand in earnest now, unable to stop. It must feel so good. Yeonjun's hand was nice and warm, but too small to hold all of him. If Soobin were to fuck him, he could bury his cock in all the way until he was sheathed inside his pretty body. He could have Yeonjun's long legs over his shoulders, or he could take him from behind, pull his long hair and hold him by his narrow hips. Then it wouldn't just be him coming undone.

Maybe Yeonjun would even cry.

His cock jumped again at the thought, and Yeonjun squeezed in response. "You're thinking about it," he breathed against Soobin's ear, and he shuddered.

"I'm thinking about it," he whispered.

"Is this the first time you've thought about it?" He could feel Yeonjun's lips pressed against his ear now, kissing him as he spoke.

"No," he confessed, the word coming out strangled towards the end.

"Aw," Yeonjun purred, as if flattered. "It's a shame you're such a good God-fearing man. This is such a waste," he murmured, punctuating his thought with a flick of his wrist, helped along by Soobin's fervent rhythm, "on a man like you."

He winced, heat pulsing through him even stronger than before. "I know."

"I wonder what God would think...if he saw you with your cock between my lips."

He winced again, pleading quietly, "Stop."

Yeonjun's movements paused, and Soobin immediately needed it back, so close to something but unable to reach it without Yeonjun's hand pumping up and down on his dick.

"No, no, not like that," he protested, finally opening his eyes for the first time since this heat-fueled daydream had started. Yeonjun had moved closer beside him, chin resting on Soobin's shoulder with his hand reached around to hold him. It looked pornographically large between Yeonjun's thin pink fingers, red and throbbing, precum already dripping from the slit. "Oh my God," he breathed.

"It's hot, isn't it?"

He nodded, and thought he might be able to catch his breath when Yeonjun dragged his hand back up the shaft and rubbed his fingers over the tip, collecting all of the wetness that had leaked out.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

"Please, hyung." Yeonjun only had to give him a few more pumps until Soobin felt right up against the brink again, and he whispered desperately, "I think I'm going to cum."

Instead of finishing him off like that, Yeonjun shifted down a bit and before Soobin realized what was happening, he had already leaned over and taken the tip of his cock into his mouth.

"Oh my God," he blasphemed again, heart beating a thousand miles a second. It was so much better. Not just hot but wet, tight, and soft. Yeonjun was doing something that created a suction effect, using his tongue and the shape of his mouth, and still jerking the rest with his hand. He massaged the tip of Soobin's cock with his tongue, caressing that same spot where the vein met the head, and all Soobin could do was grip Yeonjun's hair for strength as the heat coiled inside him burst, and semen shot into Yeonjun's mouth from the first wave of his orgasm, and then again and again, Yeonjun milking him dry until his dick was limp and spent.

He had never experienced such an intense and all-consuming sensation in his life.

Soobin only realized when he loosened his grip on Yeonjun's hair that he had been holding him down and pushing more of his cock into his mouth.

"I'm sorry!" he immediately apologized, high and dazed but just as mortified.

Yeonjun didn't even sit up right away, though. He carefully cleaned Soobin with his tongue first, then straightened back into a sitting position. Confused, he asked, "Why are you sorry?"

"I didn't- I mean, I definitely shouldn't have cum in your mouth without asking and I also didn't mean to hold you down like that, that was way out of line, and-"

Yeonjun just blinked a couple times while he babbled then cut him off with, "Relax. You're freaking yourself out."

"I- Yeah, I guess I am."

"I wouldn't have put your dick in my mouth when you said you were going to cum if I didn't want to swallow."

"That...makes sense." His chest rose up and down rapidly, exposing his anxiety in bliss to both of them.

"And I thought it was hot when you pinned me down. Mostly because it meant you were so into what I was doing that you couldn't control yourself."

"Okay..." Soobin reluctantly tried to accept his reassurance, still catching his breath.

To his surprise, Yeonjun touched his own cheeks with the back of his clean hand, as if checking himself for fever. The silence stretched on until it became unbearable, and only then did he break it. "I know what I joked about earlier, but I don't really want to be your experiment."

He tried not to let his words stir up the silt of guilt in him. "That's fair. I didn't mean to make it seem like I was using you to...you know..." It all came out so weak, and he needed to try again. "That's what I was trying to explain earlier. Before...that happened. I already know I'm gay. I don't need to experiment with you to figure that out."

"So, what was this about, then?"

It was one of those moments where Soobin needed to use a clear head and not take his existential crisis too seriously. "I don't think we need to make it complicated. I'm attracted to you and sometimes that leads to me losing my cool. But it wasn't because I was trying to experiment. I just...wanted you."

Yeonjun seemed to respect what he said, nodding along. "Oh. That's...okay with me." He nodded to himself one more time, before carefully getting to his feet, heading for the bathroom. Over his shoulder, he asked, "We're still cool, right?"

He looked beautiful even as he turned, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Even if he had been the one doing all the work, he still seemed affected. Soobin wished he'd kept his eyes open during more of what just happened. He should have spent all that time drinking in the sight of him.

"Of course."

As soon as the bathroom door shut behind him, Soobin rushed to get himself back together, unable to quench the frantic euphoria still running high within him. His head felt as though it were full of gauze, heart pounding like he'd ran a marathon, and he had no idea where he and Yeonjun stood now.

He had tried to play it cool -and it seemed like that tactic worked halfway decently with Yeonjun- but then where did that leave them? How should he rebound from this? Pretend it didn't happen? Awkwardly thank him and move on?

Or he could wonder if the door was open for something like it to ever happen again.

From what he understood, Yeonjun's fear was that Soobin just wanted to test the waters of his sexuality with him. And Soobin didn't want to play into that at all. Even if what they had technically done was all brand new to him, the idea of wanting to do it wasn't. And even if Yeonjun liked to play dumb, they both knew Soobin wanted him at least since that first night he watched him perform.

He had always been attracted to Yeonjun, long before that night. But that might have been the first time Yeonjun noticed.

When he returned, it at first felt like nothing happened. Soobin's pulse had gradually slowed, and they didn't leave any sort of mess behind. It looked like Yeonjun had run his hands through his hair a few times, as it had gone fluffy and stuck up in places. He was a vision in his black tank top and sweats, cheeks still a little pink, lips still a little swollen.

He lingered in the entryway to the living room, one hand braced against the wooden frame. But he didn't look awkward, instead observing Soobin with interest as he pulled out the couch bed. He tried not to let the strength of his gaze on him stutter his movements.

"You can always sleep in my bed, you know. I worry about your back."

Soobin hesitated, but said, "That's okay. I don't want to take up your space."

"Whatever makes you more comfortable. It's a standing invitation."

He nodded, retrieving the sheets from their new storage place in the end table. They had moved there the last time Soobin stayed- the bed got made so often it didn't make sense to keep them far.

"Do you want help?" Yeonjun asked, leaving his post by the doorframe to draw closer.

Soobin shook his head and focused on making the bed.

Yeonjun hesitated, then wrapped an arm loosely around his waist, holding him from behind. "Are you embarrassed?"

The sheets went limp in his hands. And then he nodded.

"Soobin-ah," Yeonjun said softly, lifting the sheets from his hands and laying them out. Once they were spread over the makeshift bed, Yeonjun rested his hands against Soobin's stomach, nose pressed into his shoulder to reassure him. "It's fine. You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

Rationally, he knew that. What happened between them was natural. He wouldn't criticize anyone else for it, even if it was technically a sin. The difference was that it happened to Soobin.

"I know," he mumbled, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders lift when Yeonjun placed a kiss there.

He still couldn't believe that someone like Yeonjun would even want to touch him, or kiss him, or hold him like this. It felt like a fluke in the universe. And while he had no idea what Yeonjun wanted from him now, it didn't matter. He wouldn't trade this feeling for the world.

"What would make you feel better?" he murmured, drawing gentle circles along his abdomen.

Soobin exhaled, and closed his eyes for a second. "I feel good," he answered honestly. "Just...new. I'll get used to it. I think I just need a minute."

It was the truth, and Yeonjun seemed to accept it. "Okay." He stepped away, and gave him a small smile. "I'm going to head to bed. You can let me know in the morning if you change your mind about anything."

He nodded, grateful for the space. "Sleep well, hyung."

"You too, Soobin-ah."

He left Soobin to turn the light out on his own and get comfortable. Instead, he spent a while sitting there and holding the curtains aside, looking out the dark window into the backyard. With the lights off, the space outside seemed far more boundless, filled with shadows and textured layers of darkness that overlapped one another, forming an abstract three-dimensional picture. Black on black until the sky above.

The heat had subsided, leaving Soobin with his constant pit of guilt, but a distinct refreshing taste of clarity.

Maybe things didn't need to be so complicated. If he could relax and take each day at a time, it wouldn't all pile on his shoulders. When he breathed, he was able to feel the air in his lungs, a clean pull in and out.

The sensation was new. Yeonjun released it within him.

Soobin sighed, trying not to make eye contact with the heavens. They called his name, daring him to defend his sins. All he could do was promise to attend evening prayer every night that week. He knew it wouldn't erase what he had done. But it might at least grant him some relief from his shame.

The thought crossed his mind to confess. And then he snuffed it out like a candle.

Chapter Text

Sunlight filtered through the minimal cracks in the blackout curtains, slanting perfectly across the bridge of Soobin's nose like a white knife, bright with cold heat. He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes to clear the white spots before realizing they came from the windows. Perturbed, he shuffled into a sitting position, freeing himself from that prison of light, which now slashed across his chest instead. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing his shoulders as he gathered his bearings.

Despite the sharp protrusions of sunlight bleeding through, the living room sat in oppressive darkness. Like shadows layered on top of one another, deeper and darker where corporeal objects compelled them to congregate, making the rest of the room look grey and ghostly by comparison.

Soobin had woken up in this state a handful of times, lost between the grey, disoriented by the bone light and the endless dark. The first time, he thought he was still sleeping and ended up in some sort of liminal nightmare. But now, having been here more than once, he knew to simply stretch up and shove the curtains aside, casting sunlight and warmth into every suffocating corner.

Like a blessing that doused the land, the world before him awoke into color. The parting of the clouds after the torrential flood had finally cleared.

He didn't feel groggy once the sunlight hit his face. That was one thing he had observed about sleeping at Yeonjun's house- no matter how disoriented he felt immediately upon waking up, it never lasted. Rather, his lungs felt clearer, mind sharper, even if he had a notion that he had slept fitfully.

Yeonjun hadn't woken up before him- the house was silent. Typically, by the time Soobin was getting up for work or to leave on the weekends, he could hear Yeonjun shuffling around in his bedroom, doing his best not to disturb him on the couch. But today, he heard nothing.

Conflicted, he checked his phone, noting that it was still somewhat early, before deciding to start his morning. And by the time he had emerged from the bathroom with a fresh face and clean teeth, Yeonjun still hadn't joined him.

It wasn't weird. It only felt weird because they had set a pattern.

He had never felt alone in the house before. Rationally, he knew Yeonjun was just asleep in his bedroom. He wasn't actually by himself. But the silence crept under his skin.

Soobin should let him sleep and see himself out. He had a few things he planned to work on from home today. But his manners had him hesitating- wouldn't that be rude to leave without so much as a goodbye?

It would be equally rude to wake him, that little voice he was becoming increasingly familiar with nudged in his brain.

Perhaps he didn't have to do either.

Just seeing Yeonjun would reassure him.

And so, Soobin quietly padded down the hall to his bedroom door, where he listened for a moment. Yeonjun didn't snore, or even breathe loud enough to be heard from the hall.

He had no idea why he was stressing himself out. He allowed himself one more second of hesitation, then tried the handle.

It turned. Soobin carefully cracked the door.

He only had a second to look around -not that he could see anything, the inside was pitch black- before something impaled itself on the frame by his ear.

Startled, Soobin yelped and jumped back, glancing to his right only to realize a knife had been flung at the door.

"Shit!" he heard Yeonjun curse from inside, scrambling to throw back his blankets and rush out of bed. "Sorry, I'm sorry!" he said, racing out of the darkness to Soobin's side, looking frantic. He immediately grabbed Soobin, his hair ruffled and stuck up in places from tossing and turning, eyes puffy with sleep. He had a red mark on his cheek from his pillow. It was an inappropriate time to draw the comparison, but between his wide eyes and stuck hair, he sort of reminded Soobin of a frazzled cat. "I- I thought- are you okay?"

Mildly in shock, Soobin nodded. "I'm fine. Do you usually...throw knives before asking questions?"

"I was half asleep," Yeonjun defended himself, working the blade out of his doorframe. "I thought you were someone else."

"Jiro?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, again. The light woke me up and freaked me out." Once he had freed his knife, he set it on his bedside table before returning to Soobin's side, checking his right cheek and ear. He hadn't even nicked him, but still Yeonjun looked closely, apologizing under his breath.

"You must be a light sleeper," Soobin said breathlessly, heart racing from his near-catastrophic encounter. "I was just checking to make sure you were okay. You're usually up before me."

Yeonjun glanced at his alarm clock, noting the time, and a confused frown crossed his face. "You're right. That's weird."

"Isn't it a good thing? It means you slept."

For some reason, he looked uncomfortable, and continued to obsessively check the side of Soobin's face, his fingers warm and soft. "Maybe...Shit, I'm really sorry about this, Bin-ah..."

"I'm fine," Soobin reassured him again, covering his hand with his own and lowering it back to his side. "I mean, you probably could have killed me, but you didn't, so we're good."

Unfortunately, his joke did nothing to soothe Yeonjun's anxiety, as he quickly ushered him out of his bedroom and into the light, and with growing dread, Soobin realized he had tears in his eyes.

"Seriously," he insisted, batting away Yeonjun's hands and speaking over his babbled apologies. Finally, he couldn't take him freaking out any more, and grabbed his wrists, forcing him to hold still and look him in the eyes if only to see that Soobin wasn't angry with him. "Yeonjun, listen to me. I'm not hurt, okay? No harm done."

"Yeah, but imagine if you were hurt!"

"That would have sucked," Soobin agreed. "But I'm not." It dawned on him that maybe he was holding too hard, and so he loosened his grip, but still loosely clung to Yeonjun's hands in an attempt to soothe him.

"You've really got to stop hanging around me," Yeonjun breathed, trying to slow his heart rate by speaking softly. "I don't think I'm safe for you."

"You're giving yourself too much credit. You're not that edgy. Just overworked and paranoid."

To his surprise, Yeonjun shut his eyes and slumped over, resting his head on Soobin's shoulder. Butterflies swarmed his stomach with frantic wingbeats, and he gently laid a hand across his back.

"Um, good morning, by the way," he said after a while of this. It wasn't the smoothest of wakeups.

He felt Yeonjun laugh bitterly against him before he reached up once again to check Soobin's ear for cuts.

"I'm going to inflict an actual knife wound on myself if you don't stop looking for something that's not there," he threatened.

Yeonjun immediately pushed away from him with big eyes. "That's so dramatic."

"Do I look like I'm bluffing?"

He would do it if only to give Yeonjun something real to freak out over instead of just feeding into his fear.

"No, that's what scares me," he muttered before leading Soobin farther down the hall and away from the knife. "Um...good morning to you, too," he finally said once they stood doused in the living room sunlight. Yeonjun narrowed his eyes, shielding them from the brightness.

"Do you want me to close them?" He could tell the light was bothering him.

Yeonjun shook his head. "No, the serotonin or whatever is probably good for me." Finally, he left Soobin's side, heading to the bathroom to wash up and when he emerged, a little less ruffled, he went for the kitchen. He threw open the door to his fridge, remarking, "I'm not really a breakfast person. What do you usually eat?"

They didn't often share mornings. They bumped into each other on the few occasions Soobin had stayed the night, but he was quick to leave, always rushing to get to work on time. He didn't have anywhere to be this morning, though.

"Leftovers from the restaurant," he answered honestly. "But...maybe fruit?"

Yeonjun frowned, leaning further into his fridge. He was examining it with the intrigue of an undiscovered artifact. Soobin wondered if he knew the last time he had been in there to retrieve anything but a drink.

Throughout this entire frantic morning exchange, Soobin had deliberately avoided acknowledging Yeonjun's attire, or lack thereof. In typical fashion, it appeared as though he lived in a world where shirts were optional, and certainly not required for sleeping. And rather than at least have the decency to wear pants, he instead wore a pair of black low-rise shorts so small they may as well not exist at all.

He only allowed himself to look now because Yeonjun was preoccupied with other things. So Soobin could stand there and be preoccupied with the forbidden and brand new sight of his legs, which looked nothing like he had ever imagined.

In his mind, Yeonjun was rough and muscular. Maybe it was because of his attitude, maybe it was because Soobin had always seen him as a protector. But it seemed like all that time Yeonjun put into working out was focused entirely on his arms. The rest of his body disregarded the idea of built up muscle mass entirely.

His legs were...well, dainty. It was the only word that came to mind. They were thin, and pale, and soft-looking. They invited Soobin to daydream about the rest of his body, to wonder how all of these puzzle pieces might come together to form a perfect beautiful vision.

He wanted to see him naked.

It was a revelation so stark that he took a step back, shame flooding his system. It was barely nine in the morning. The sun was shining. Yeonjun was offering to make him breakfast. Why was his mind fixating on the idea of-

He couldn't even finish the thought.

Nervous, he swallowed, and kept his distance across the counter while Yeonjun fished around for something edible. Eventually, he came up with a carton of eggs and a liter of milk, and with a frown still on his face, began searching the top cabinet.

"What are you looking for?"

"Flour."

"For...?"

"Pancakes. I have dino moulds."

Soobin blinked. "You're...going to make dino pancakes?"

Yeonjun glanced at him over his shoulder. Fluffy hair. Sleepy expression. Half-naked.

Cooking for him.

Maybe Soobin would be the one going to Hell, after all.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

He snapped out of it and shook his head. "No, that's...cool."

Yeonjun glared at him. "Are you judging me?"

"No!" He tried to sound more genuine this time, banishing the unholy thoughts from his mind. "That sounds great. Dinosaurs make everything better."

Skeptical, Yeonjun just said to his mixing bowl, "You don't have to eat any."

"I want to," he insisted. "Sorry. My head was preoccupied with other things."

"More important things than me?"

He was good. The words always rolled off his tongue so seamlessly, ready to trip Soobin up at a moment's notice.

"No."

Yeonjun hummed, and Soobin finally felt like he could settle, seating himself on one of the stools against the counter. "So..." Yeonjun brought his mixing bowl over, still diligently working his batter. "Where do you fall on the whole dinosaur thing?"

Confused, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Like...do you believe they were real?"

"Of course I do."

"That's not very Christian. Scientists claim dinosaurs lived tens of millions of years ago. But God only created the world-"

"Yeah, I know," Soobin interrupted, not needing the lecture on creationism. "But honestly, I've always thought that the Bible must count time differently than we originally thought."

"So you would rather question the Old Testament than give up on dinosaurs?" Yeonjun looked mildly impressed as he whisked.

"I'm not questioning the Testament itself. I'm questioning how we translated certain passages and interpreted time."

"In order to justify a world in which dinosaurs exist."

"Alongside God, yes," Soobin confirmed.

"Do you think dinosaurs go to Heaven?"

He pursed his lips. "Good dinosaurs go to Heaven. Well, I don't know, actually. I kind of get tripped up thinking about creatures who lack the ability to self-actualize and whether or not they would even be brought to judgment. Doesn't seem very fair. I think they probably all go to Heaven. They're all God's creatures."

"We're all God's creatures," Yeonjun pointed out, now checking the temperature of his pan. "But we damn ourselves to Hell all the time."

"Right," Soobin agreed. "But like, dinosaurs can't look at themselves in a mirror and reflect on their sins. So...is it really fair to bring them to judgment? We know when we do something morally wrong. They probably don't, though."

"So...what about people with mental disorders, then? They might not be able to recognize they've done something morally wrong, but they might have also murdered or something."

Feeling as though they had jumped ship, Soobin held his hands up in surrender. "Now I think we're entering the territory where I'm unqualified to answer."

"Oh, but you were qualified to answer about the dinosaurs?"

"Well, no," he admitted. "But that's not affecting my day-to-day life or making me contemplate the existential nature of humanity within the universe, so it feels less like a challenge to tackle."

Yeonjun leaned against the counters while his first pancakes sizzled, remarking, "I think we're all weighed against our sins, conscious or not. Otherwise, nothing would be fair."

"That's more objective," he agreed. "But more bleak, too. What's the point of repenting, then? It doesn't really allow man the opportunity to learn from his mistakes."

"Isn't that the purpose of brainwashing us since birth? To teach us right from wrong so we don't sin in the first place?"

"Yeah, but circling back to the dinosaurs, they can't be taught social etiquette, the teachings of Jesus, or the concept of philanthropy. So, they would be starting from a disadvantaged position. That's why I think it can't be the same."

"Maybe there's a dinosaur God who weighs their sins against dinosaur standards," Yeonjun mused, stacking his first pancakes on a plate. They were golden brown and in the shape of brontosaurus.

"Well, that can't be right. Otherwise, that would completely go against the idea of the universe having one true God, one true Creator. No room for false dinosaur idols."

Yeonjun sighed, and served Soobin the two pancakes along with butter and a bottle of syrup. "I'm so glad I'm not a theologist."

"Me too. Otherwise you'd be tainting the scripture with dinosaur gods."

"Shut up and eat your pancakes," Yeonjun retorted, though it seemed to be in good nature, as he had a small smile on his face, spooning the next batch of batter into the pan.

"Yes, sir," Soobin quickly replied, ignoring the butter and syrup in favor of eating them with his fingers. He pulled off the tail first, feeling bad for torturing the poor innocent cake reptile. The pancake was light and fluffy, sweet but not overpowering. He could probably eat ten. "These are really good," he informed him.

"Thanks. I used to make them for my mom. Not the dinosaur shapes, though. They offend her."

"Creationism?" he guessed.

"Bingo."

"Shame a lot of people think the two can't coexist."

Yeonjun shrugged, flipping his pancakes. Still shirtless. Still in his tiny shorts.

It probably wasn't safe, cooking like that.

"You know, my dad was a hardcore atheist. He used to passive-aggressively leave books lying around the house that claimed to dismantle 'the Christian perspective' or whatever using science. I think that's part of the reason why my mom hates dinosaurs."

Soobin frowned, and finished chewing before he said, "I remember seeing your dad in church a couple of times."

"He went to appease her. And once we got home, he'd rant about everything we'd just heard. Eventually, she told him not to come." Yeonjun pursed his lips, then added, "They gave me the choice, actually. I could go to Sunday Mass with my mom or stay home with him. Obviously, I went with her. It was weird, though. It felt like a division we couldn't overcome."

"I can understand that," Soobin sympathized. "My dad hasn't come to service in years. I think it used to bother my mom a lot. Now she just makes excuses for him."

"Marriage is weird," Yeonjun said, joining him at the counter but squinting in disbelief at his plate. "And you eat like a toddler."

"I just like them better this way," he defended himself, finishing the last of his pancakes. With his fingers. The way God intended. Before Yeonjun could continue to criticize him, he asked, "Do you think you'll ever get married?"

"Can't," Yeonjun answered like it was the simplest thing in the world, eating his pancakes properly. "You know...the whole homosexual thing."

Soobin shrugged. "I heard lots of couples were going to Taiwan."

"I'm surprised you heard about that."

"I work in journalism," he pointed out, to which Yeonjun looked satisfactorily mollified. "And I also have somewhat of a vested interest. If you haven't noticed."

They were getting close to skirting around the events of last night now, and he wasn't sure that he was prepared to confront the consequences of his actions.

Yeonjun just tilted his head, and after chewing, asked, "Are you planning on getting married?"

"It was always part of my plan," he admitted. "But things haven't evolved in quite the linear path I drew for myself. So...I don't know. There's still plenty of time."

"Most of our friends from school are married."

"That doesn't mean we're old. It just means we didn't buy into the dream that was sold to us."

Yeonjun sighed. "Sometimes I wish I had. I think things would be so much easier."

"Easier, sure." He could agree with that. "Fulfilling, though?"

"Probably not. Let me drive you home," Yeonjun offered, leaning over the kitchen counter and capturing Soobin's attention in full. "I need to run a few errands, anyway, and I feel like I can see my mom today."

Maybe everything they discussed yesterday had put him in an optimistic mood. Still, he once again glanced past Soobin, eyes on the painting above his dining room table, before refocusing on him.

He hesitated, locking his phone. "Are you sure it's not a hassle? I don't mind taking the bus."

"It's not," he promised. "I want to."

Well, when he said it like that, Soobin felt he would be pulling teeth if he protested. "Okay," he agreed. "Just let me know when you want to go."

"Give me a second to throw on some clothes and we can head out."

"I was starting to think you were going to leave half-naked."

"And you didn't say anything?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I'm getting desensitized."

What a blatant lie.

A little smile graced Yeonjun's face. "That wouldn't be so bad. I'll be right back."

Once he disappeared into his bedroom, Soobin got to his feet and cleared their dishes, cleaning up as best as he could before getting his things and waiting by the entryway. Yeonjun eventually joined him, having tossed on a tight black v-neck long sleeve and exchanged his shorts for baggy jeans. He grabbed his big canvas bag and held the door for Soobin, following him out.

They didn't say much on the ride over, but Soobin didn't mind. Yeonjun blasted music over the stereo -some sort of fun upbeat pop punk- and didn't put up any pretense that they needed to talk. He sort of liked that about Yeonjun. If he wasn't in the mood to talk, Soobin knew it. He never had to guess with him. His fingers drummed to the beat on the steering wheel and he sang sometimes, but not every line. He didn't need to show off, prove that he knew every word, or put on some sort of performance.

It was strangely refreshing. And he didn't listen to his own music. For someone obsessed with being famous, he wasn't all that pretentious about what he had earned.

"You know..." Yeonjun said after a while, clicking the volume down a few notches. "You should probably stop coming over."

Feeling like he took a punch to the gut -yet braced for this inevitable eventuality at the same time- he regained the wind in his lungs then asked, "Why?"

He knew the answer. He knew it was because of what happened last night. Yeonjun didn't want him like that. He never had, but he pitied him, and so he let Soobin run wild with his infatuation and of course he regretted it in the end. His blasted hands weren't sacred enough to lay upon holy flesh.

"I think it's bad for you." Yeonjun kept his gaze on the road. Soobin couldn't gauge where this was going. "You're not yourself."

"When I hang out with you?"

"Yes."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is. I know I joke about me being a bad influence, but I'm serious. I don't want you to let me change you. And I will."

"Is it so difficult for you to just make friends and be happy?"

Yeonjun expected him to balk and back down. He always thought Soobin had the spine of a newborn rabbit, even though he felt like he had proven time and again that he wasn't so fragile. Still, he didn't know whether to be offended or pleased when Yeonjun smiled.

"Hm. Maybe it is. I've got no issue admitting that I'm the problem."

"That's just the thing, though. Everything's all about you. Have you considered that maybe you're not changing me, you're just seeing new sides of me instead?"

"Sure. That might be true. I just don't want to ruin your life, Soobin."

"You're being so dramatic."

"Am I?"

"Yes. So far, my life seems better with you in it."

"So far, I've gotten you out past your bedtime, into clubs until the wee hours of the morning, drinking and contemplating pre-marital sex. Oh, and I got you punched in the face. That was my fault, too."

Soobin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Everything he said was true. But it rubbed him the wrong way when he laid it all out so callously. "You're an accessory to my bad decisions," he admitted. "But I also feel alive. So..."

"So what, you're saying it's worth it?"

"Maybe."

"Are you saying I'm worth it?" Yeonjun pushed, always the endless flirt. And this time, Soobin did roll his eyes.

"What was that you said the other night about the pleasure of my company?"

"I remember."

"Think of it as the same thing, then."

"Mm, but I pay in free food and therapy on the living room floor. How am I getting paid for my time, exactly?"

Soobin raised his eyebrows. "Shouldn't gazing upon my face be enough?"

Yeonjun laughed, pretty and breathless, and Soobin liked that he could pull such a sweet sound from him. "You offer more than you think."

"Like what?"

Drumming his fingers against the wheel, Yeonjun said, "Stability. It's been nice building a routine with you. Having someone to hang out with that isn't tied to work. Takes the pressure off."

"That's funny."

"Why?"

"Because you're the opposite of that in my world."

"Being with me stresses you out?"

"No. But it's exciting. Nothing about being with you feels stable. You're the one thing I can't predict."

For some reason, admitting it out loud alleviated some of the tension in his lungs. It might not have been the kindest thing to say. Returning Yeonjun's compliment might have eased his mind. But Soobin was honest to a fault, and Yeonjun always said that he appreciated that about him.

"Hm." Yeonjun watched the road, gaze sharp and calculating. "Do you like that?"

"Of course I do. Everything else is monotonous."

"And what if I started to get boring? What if you started feeling like you knew me so well that nothing I could do would surprise you?"

It was rare for Yeonjun to bare his insecurities, even in such a sly roundabout way. "Even if I thought it were possible, which I don't, I think we still have a long time before things would ever reach that point."

"Why couldn't it be possible?"

"Because I already know you better than anyone besides my own family. And you still surprise me every day."

"Oh."

Yeonjun didn't say anything else. For once, Soobin seemed to have succeeded in quieting the voice in his head. He smiled, that small victory bubbling an innocent sort of satisfaction in his chest.

Not long after that, the trees and sidewalks began to change into scenery he recognized. They had entered their neighborhood, as familiar as the back of his own hand. "You can just drop me off at your place and I'll walk to mine," he said. "No need for you to park twice."

"It's fine, I'll just pull over outside the restaurant."

Soobin considered arguing -he really didn't want his family to see Yeonjun dropping him off- but in the end, it was more hassle than it was worth. "Okay," he agreed, and when Yeonjun pulled up alongside the curb, Soobin was quick to swing his bag over his shoulder and hop out.

"See you, Bin-ah."

Things seemed normal enough between them despite everything that had happened yesterday.

"Bye. I'll text you later."

Yeonjun just shot him a thumbs up, cold sunlight glinting off his rings, and then waved until Soobin shut the door. As soon as he was gone, the chill of the bleak November morning crept in, though a line still waited outside the door.

Mumbling apologies, Soobin nudged through until he was inside the brightly lit restaurant, hit by the savory scent of his mother's cooking, where Kai was already running around alongside his sister, taking orders and carrying trays. She waved at Soobin as soon as she spotted him, and he jogged over to her side.

"You need any help?"

He prayed the answer would be negative. He was technically supposed to be working today.

Thankfully, she shook her head. "No, we've got it covered. Thanks, though."

He nodded. "Cool, I'm going to head upstairs, then. I'm way behind on my writing for this week."

"Big journalist job still going well?" She readjusted her bun as she asked, using him as an excuse to catch her breath.

"Pretty good. I was promoted recently, so it's only up from here."

She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Nice. Remember us from the reporting hall of fame."

He laughed and just said, "What about you, how's the startup?"

"Things are moving. Our inventory is finally finalized, so we can start selling products as soon as the marketing graphics are ready."

"Remember us from the fashion hall of fame."

His sister elbowed him, then shooed him away. "Yeah, yeah. Out you go, maybe I'll catch you later."

"See you, noona. Let me know if you need help."

Escaping from the chaos of their ever-bustling business, stepping onto the landing of their quiet apartment felt like a breath of fresh air. For the first time since yesterday, he was alone, and he could finally clear his head. But as much as his mind wanted to hyper-fixate on the details of everything that had happened, he knew he needed to let it go for now and focus on his work. And so, he started by making a cup of tea, and once it was in hand, he settled down at his desk.

He tried not to let the winter sun catch his attention, to let it invite him into daydream, and pass his thoughts into the realm of non-responsibility. He did wonder if Yeonjun ended up going to see his mother after all, and if they were having a nice afternoon together. He hoped so.

Time passed quickly without him even tracking the daylight. It was only when he finished drafting his current article and got up to stretch that he realized the sun had already set and the noise from downstairs had quieted. Kai was likely already long gone for the day. The restaurant might even be closed.

Soobin clocked out, and stepped into the hall, intending to leave his room for another cup of tea. And then he heard voices at the bottom of the stairs.

"We deserve to meet her, if that's really the case," his mother's voice whispered aggressively.

"You're going to scare him off," a voice that belonged to his father warned in equally hushed tones. "If he really has got a girlfriend, and he wants to keep it quiet for now, we should let him."

"There's no reason for him to keep it a secret," his mother argued. "He's out staying somewhere else half the week. That's not right."

"He's an adult," his father replied calmly. "It's natural for him to want space."

"But it's not right for him to keep staying the night with a woman we don't know! What if they're-"

"Soobin's not like that." His father's reply confirmed Soobin's suspicion that he was the topic of their conversation. "We raised him right. I say we just let it be and see what happens."

"What if pregnancy happens?" she shot back in a whisper angry enough to cut the air.

"Trust your son," his father insisted, and Soobin felt a flash of gratitude towards him.

When a hand landed on his shoulder, Soobin flinched back so hard he nearly toppled down the stairs. His brother was quick to grab on and hold him steady.

"They're talking about you," he said quietly, though his eyes were inquisitive.

"Yeah, I know." He replied. "I was eavesdropping. Before you tried to kill me."

His brother sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Come on."

Reluctant, Soobin cast one look over the railing before trailing after his brother into the kitchen, where he put the kettle on to boil. "Why exactly do they think I have a girlfriend?" he asked as he rinsed out his teacup.

"Because you're staying out late and not coming home." His brother rifled through the cabinets, searching for something.

"I told you guys that I was staying with a friend."

"And that's true?"

Soobin nudged his way in next to him to free a bag of jasmine tea before returning to the counter. "Of course it's true. I wouldn't make something up."

"You did about your face."

His comment stung, but Soobin couldn't deny it. Still, he just said, "I don't usually."

Finally, Eunhak found the bag of honey butter chips and turned to look at him with it in hand. "Are you ready to tell me what that was all about, then?"

Soobin sighed, letting the white noise of the electric kettle fill the kitchen for a moment. "It's complicated."

"Okay, ignore the details for now. What actually happened?"

There was no wiggling his way out of this one, and besides, his conscience felt tainted enough from that one white lie. "A dude punched me."

"Alright. Why?"

Soobin felt his expression darken, and he just repeated, "It's complicated."

"Over a girl?"

"No."

"You don't have a girlfriend?"

"No, I keep telling you that, but it's like you're not hearing me."

His brother put his hands up in surrender, showing he wouldn't push it anymore. "Fine, fine." He ate a handful of chips, then remarked, "It does look suspicious, though. Who are you staying with, anyway?"

After how uncomfortable the last lie made him, he wasn't about to tell another one. "Yeonjun."

His brother raised his eyebrows, head tilted curiously. "Choi Yeonjun?"

"Yeah."

The kettle sounded, prompting Soobin to lift it and pour his tea. "I didn't know you were still friends," his brother admitted.

"We weren't. And now we are again. Things change."

His brother seemed to be struggling with whatever he wanted to say next, choosing his words carefully while Soobin waited for his tea to steep.

"He's got kind of a reputation lately," was what Eunhak eventually settled on.

Soobin knew what he was suggesting but still wanted to hear it. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he's in that punk band, and...they're kind of...weird."

It was a relief to know that Yeonjun's secret wasn't much of a secret anymore. At least, not amongst the youth in their congregation. And yet, he just blinked and innocently asked, "Weird how?"

His brother gave him a look, as if asking him not to make him say it. "Well, it's not really...Christian. You know?"

"They never disavow God in their music. Just because it's not church-approved gospel doesn't mean it's faithless."

"So you've listened to their stuff?"

"I've had to write about their band. I've been to their shows."

His brother winced. "Please be careful. I really don't want you getting sucked into whatever Choi Yeonjun's got going on."

"Because of the rock music thing?"

He was starting to sound defensive now. It would only betray how deep into this rabbit hole he had really fallen, and so he tried to tell himself to relax.

"Because of the gay thing, Soobin."

Well, he didn't know they were just outright saying it now.

Standing his ground, he replied calmly, "What's so wrong with that?"

This time, his brother's face read pure exasperation and he said, "Don't make me sound like the bad guy. I'm not trying to criticize him, or tell other people how to live. I just don't think...It's not something you need to get mixed up in."

"You think it's a sin?" he asked, discarding his tea bag and blowing off steam from the pale green surface. His heart was racing, but his voice remained surprisingly steady, and he didn't even feel color rising to his face.

"Well, if the Bible says that two men shouldn't lay together, I think the messaging is clear."

Soobin nodded, lips pursed. Then, because he could never just keep his mouth shut, he said, "A lot of scholars disagree about how homosexuality is portrayed in the Bible. I'm not sure if it's so black and white."

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

His rapidly increasing pulse skipped a beat, and he shook his head. "No. I just don't think it's fair to write Yeonjun off just because he's gay, when we've known him all our lives. He goes to church more than I do. Our pastor welcomes him. So, what's your problem?"

"I'm not saying that I have a problem with him," Eunhak disagreed. "All I'm saying is that I want you to make good choices."

Torn between mild if not incredulous amusement and personal offense, Soobin asked, "What exactly do you think we get up to?"

"He's just not known to hang out with the best crowd," Eunhak dodged the question, effectively trying to wash his hands of the matter.

"We order takeout to his house and complain about our jobs," Soobin told him anyway, satisfied when his brother looked slightly confused by the revelation. "It's not like I'm out in clubs with him every night, drinking and partying. And even when I am out with him, I look like the stuck-up church kid sitting in the corner refusing alcohol. Don't worry so much."

"I didn't want to make a big deal out of it," Eunhak muttered, but Soobin couldn't help but take his comments personally.

"We've been friends since we were kids. It was weird that you made it into anything in the first place."

"Alright, fine," he relented, and Soobin could tell he felt sort of ashamed of his own outburst. "I guess I just...well, if you've been with Yeonjun all this time, why are you keeping it a secret? Mom and Dad have been whispering about it nonstop."

"Because it's a miracle at all they've let me be somewhat independent and do my own thing. I don't want to ruin it."

Finally, he said something his brother could understand. They were all the same, after all, having grown up under the loving but oppressive thumb of their parents' expectations and constant suffocating idea of family. Soobin was the only one of their three children that didn't work for them, and he knew he only got away with it because he was the youngest and therefore the child they spent the least amount of time protecting. His sister was nine years older than him. By the time Soobin's turn came around, they were already tired.

Their family had always been insular, both because of the ideals their community valued, but also because his parents simply wanted it to be that way. Family came first in every aspect. But it kept their wings clipped, and Soobin didn't want to give up his only chance at flying.

"Amen to that," Eunhak muttered. "Well, just be safe, then. Maybe don't get punched in the face again."

"I'm not planning on it."

"You didn't take that hit for Yeonjun, right?" He hesitated. It was enough of an answer. "Dude," his brother said in disbelief. "Yeonjun can take care of himself way better than you can, what were you thinking?"

Soobin shook his head, frustrated. He thought he was about to escape the interrogation. "Not in that situation. He wouldn't have defended himself."

"Why's that?"

"His..." he swallowed, then forced the word out, "boyfriend was threatening to kill him. It was messy, and Yeonjun was freaked out."

"Why were you there, in a fight between Yeonjun and his boyfriend?"

"I was supposed to meet Yeonjun at his place for dinner, and when I got there, they were already fighting."

Nothing he said could erase the suspicion on his brother's face. It was so obvious to both of them. But neither were brave enough to say it.

"Okay..." Eunhak eventually said with a sigh, then replaced the bag in the cabinet. "I'm not going to be able to change your mind on this, am I?"

"Probably not."

"Choi Yeonjun is bad news."

"Probably."

"And that's all you've got to say?"

Soobin blinked. "Yup."

"You're so annoying," his brother complained, then followed it up with, "Go pick a game. I'm in the mood to beat you at something."

He shrugged. "If you're even able to." He slipped out of the kitchen before his brother could punish him for his remark, heading for the living room and a cozy night inside with his family.

Things always settled down between them even when they fought. If they steered clear of the topic that created conflict between them entirely, of course. They were the picture perfect nuclear example of how to smile and repress.

And it seemed more apparent now to him than ever before.

...

For once, he had the weekend to himself, no surprise concert invites from Yeonjun. Just him, his computer, and the dark circles around his eyes. Soobin drew his curtains shut, intent on getting some work done so he could go into the office on Monday feeling refreshed and ready to tackle a new project. His work on the music scene was slowly drawing to a close- at this rate, he only had three artists left to see and only a handful of articles to write.

A while into the day, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and when he pulled it out, the suggested caller ID flashing on the screen took him by surprise.

Confused, Soobin slid to accept the call, saying, "Beomgyu?"

"Yeah. Hey."

Did Yeonjun give him his phone number?

"Hey," was all he could say in response. "What's up?"

"Yeonjun-hyung said you play League."

"Uh...yeah. I do."

"What's your rank?"

Soobin felt a flash of pride as he admitted, "Diamond."

"Add me, I'll give you my name. I need someone to 5v5 with."

"Just like...right now?"

"Unless you're doing something else?"

Soobin glanced around his room. He should be working, but he had been sitting uninspired in front of his laptop all day. With a shrug, he got up and went over to his PC, turning it on. "I'm not. Text me your Discord code."

"Cool, one sec." Beomgyu went quiet for a moment, then Soobin received a ping on his phone. "Call me there."

"Sure."

Within seconds, they were reconnected and Soobin could see that Beomgyu already had League pulled up, and he'd been playing for the last ten hours. He couldn't judge. If Soobin didn't have a full-time corporate job, his days would probably look similar.

He thought it would be awkward, trying to hold a conversation with the member of Aurora Violet that he arguably knew the least, but apparently Choi Beomgyu didn't believe in awkwardness. There was never a second of silence on the call unless they were both concentrating extremely hard. They worked surprisingly well together, playing in perfect sync, and their styles were complementary.

And to his surprise, Beomgyu was funny. He would get so animated whether they won or lost, and he cracked jokes the entire time. He also wasn't afraid to chew Soobin out for less than perfect performance.

The longer they talked, the more Soobin understood what Kai meant. Beomgyu was sort of insane, in the way where he would say the least expected thing and somehow still land the best joke possible. He also had no fear when it came to League, with an extremely calculated but aggressive play-style.

They had a longer consecutive winning streak together than Soobin had ever had playing online by himself. Either Beomgyu was cracked or they had decent synergy.

Before he knew it, the day had passed and outside his window, night had fallen. Neither of them loaded into their next match, and he could hear Beomgyu yawn on the other side of the call.

"I think I'm gonna pass out."

"Yeah, you sound like it."

"You wanna call again tomorrow?"

"I have work."

"Huh. Well, text me when you don't."

"Sure," he agreed, once again disoriented by the lifestyles of rock stars. It seemed like they were constantly all or nothing. Pouring their energy out in short sharp bursts that left them empty on lonely days, forcing themselves to recharge in time before the next show.

"Cool. Talk to you later."

"See you."

With that, Beomgyu dropped out of the call, and Soobin was left feeling unsettled. He liked Beomgyu, and they seemed to get along well. It was just strange to be called up out of the blue and then left with no expectation of when they might talk again. He could probably ask Kai if that was typical of him, but he already felt enough like he was integrating too much into his circle of friends. He was experiencing an unfamiliar sense of imposter syndrome, knowing he didn't belong where he had found himself, yet being strung along enough to stay regardless.

These people led interesting, fast-paced lives. In what world did they expect Soobin's life to coincide?

...

He gazed out his office window, over the grey cityscape and endless dreary bluster of winter. Four walls of solitude all around, a blessing and a curse. As much as he enjoyed being on his own, he felt isolated from everything that had been part of his routine before, the constant printer noise, and passing of coworkers, and chatter from three cubicles down.

Now, he was left entirely with his thoughts and only the sounds he himself made against his keyboard.

For once, Soobin called Yeonjun first.

He picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hey."

"Hey. What are you up to?"

"Just listening to some demos Kai brought. Why?"

"Do you have plans tonight?"

"Eh. Not really."

"Come up with someone for us to do."

"Wow, demanding. Say please."

"Please."

"You want me to find a cemetery for us to hang out in?" Yeonjun asked, half-serious, half-not. He wondered what his fascination was with the dead.

"No, it's depressing," he replied, tucking the phone in-between his shoulder and chin to finish typing the sentence his sudden decision to call had interrupted.

"It's nice to get outside," he complained, voice taking on a whiny tone.

"Don't you have a yard?"

"Yeah..."

"Why can't we just sit outside there, then?"

"There are no ghosts." He said it like a joke, but his voice remained serious.

"Okay." Soobin resisted the urge to sigh. Sometimes, navigating Yeonjun's mind felt eerily similar to playing brain games. "And why is that bad?"

"Ghosts have good energy. Most of the time, anyway."

"I have good energy. Isn't that enough?"

He was the one joking this time, but Yeonjun contemplated it. "Hm. Fine. Why do you like being at my place so much, anyway?"

"It's quiet and not filled with my family."

"Those are good reasons," he reluctantly agreed.

"I'll be there once I've wrapped everything up at work."

"Okay. I'll probably order food, so let me know what you want. Hey, are you any good with plumbing?"

"No." Then, realizing that might not be sufficient, he added, "Why?"

"Something's up with my bathroom. I think the drains are clogged."

"Don't you rent? Call your landlord." The line went oddly quiet. He waited a few beats, and then, "Yeonjun?"

"Sorry, it's just...strange. I thought I rented this place, but I haven't spoken to the landlord since I moved in. I don't remember signing any paperwork, either."

Confused, he asked, "Have you been paying for it?"

"Don't know, I sort of just assumed. I guess I can check my bank statement."

"You should probably do that sooner rather than later."

"Probably."

"You're terrible at being an adult."

"I know. That's why I have you. Now hurry up, I want you to come lay on the grass with me, pretty boy."

Soobin thought he might vomit from the butterflies that suddenly took up residence in his stomach.

His silence must have been concerning, because Yeonjun followed it with, "You still there?"

"Yeah, just throwing up butterflies," he muttered, and Yeonjun tried to check if he heard him correctly, but Soobin spoke over his question. "See you in a couple hours."

"Text me your dinner order," Yeonjun reminded him, then hung up. Soobin just stared blankly at his black phone screen before sighing.

Yeonjun summoned and he went to his side. Every single time. He shouldn't let himself be such a pushover, and yet there wasn't anything he could do. He wanted to be with Yeonjun. And if running around at his beck and call was all it took, he would do it without hesitation.

Night had already settled by the time he left the office. His current piece took longer than expected to finish, and his supervisor wanted to look over his progress and get it in with their editors before either of them could go.

At this rate, Soobin was becoming more familiar with the gathering darkness than the cold sunshine of day. At least he didn't feel like he was missing out on much- the winter air made him no less envious of the outside world.

It had snowed again, and although the city had been working tirelessly to keep the sidewalks clear, crystals still glittered underfoot wherever he walked, dyed in all the colors of the lights above.

The bus ride took longer than usual, going extra slow to accommodate for the weather, and when he got out at his stop onto Yeonjun's street, he wouldn't be surprised if Yeonjun thought he had blown him off entirely.

Even so, his porch lamp remained on, a beacon of warmth in the frigid air that turned every filtered street light around him to frosted wind.

Soobin knocked at the door. Though they had been doing this for a while now, he wanted to give Yeonjun all the courtesy he could.

But a few moments passed, and no one came.

He tried again, then stepped back to glance at the front-facing windows. No lights pouring out from inside.

Yet the porch light was on. Someone had to be home. He tried the doorknob, shouldering aside the sense of deja vu that came over him as it gave way and swung open.

The entryway was dark. He kicked off his shoes, and went inside. He flicked on the lights everywhere he went, shadows fleeing into vacant corners. Yeonjun wasn't in the kitchen or the living room.

"Hyung?" he called out, but no voice called back. Pulse starting to pick up, he pushed his bedroom door open. Just as dark as the rest of the house, though not as densely black. When the light from the hallway flooded in, the shadows didn't so much run as they faded. He glanced around, confirming no sign of Yeonjun existed among the haphazard piles of clothes, then checked the only room left.

When the bathroom door swung open, he knew immediately he had found the source of whatever was wrong. A sharp scent like rust hung in the air, pungent enough to have him wrinkling his nose and fumbling for the light switch. The blooming of bright white light made the dark stains of everything stand out ever more starkly.

Soobin just stood there in shock as his brain tried to process what he saw.

It stained everything. The sink, the floor of the shower, even the toilet bowl. Matted and dripping with a reddish-brown liquid, from which that sickly sweet metallic scent had to be coming. Like all of the pipes had suddenly burst, regurgitating this thick and viscous blood-like substance everywhere.

It smelled of death. He had never stood over a corpse before, but instinctively, he knew, it must smell like this.

Soobin covered his mouth before he could be sick and ducked out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. At that moment, the front door opened, and he and Yeonjun froze, making eye contact but not speaking.

Then Yeonjun blinked, and closed the front door with his foot, hands full with a big paper bag. "Oh," was all he said. "You're here."

Soobin moved quickly to his side, but not without jamming his thumb back towards the bathroom and asking in one breath, "What happened in there?"

"I told you," Yeonjun went towards the kitchen, uncomfortably nonchalant, Soobin trailing behind. "Something's up with my drains."

"Yeah, something's up. They vomited blood everywhere. It smells like someone died."

Yeonjun frowned, and finally looked at him a little more seriously. "Huh?"

Soobin blinked- had it happened while he was out? "Go look," he insisted.

Setting the paper bag on the counter, Yeonjun gave him another strange look before shrugging and heading for the bathroom. Once he opened the door, Soobin watched as he just stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, clearly confused. "Well, that's going to be a bitch to clean," was what he finally settled on before turning back to him. "I don't think it's blood, though, as fun as that would be. Pretty sure it's just old water and rust. Still nasty. I knew they were backed up, but it seems like whatever was clogging them finally gave."

It was Soobin's turn to frown, and he shouldered Yeonjun aside. He knew what he had seen. But sure enough, the liquid seeping from the drains and toilet bowl looked much less viscous now, a thin layer over porcelain, more brown like rust than red.

"It was worse when I got here," was all he could say to justify what he knew was true.

"Probably," Yeonjun agreed without much fight.

"You don't seem weirded out."

"Am I supposed to be? I'll just call a plumber."

"Do you have another bathroom?"

"Yeah, there's an ensuite in my room. Why, do you need to piss?"

Soobin wrinkled his nose, and only then realized the pungent scent had faded. Now it just smelled like metal, and not at all like decay. "You're so vulgar."

"Yeah."

"I was just asking in case you needed to stay somewhere else for the night."

"No, it should be fine." Yeonjun flicked off the light and pushed him out the door, shutting it behind them. "That's a problem for tomorrow's me, though. Sorry, I was picking up the food when you got here. I could understand why you would be freaked out."

"You don't need to apologize." They retreated back to the kitchen, Yeonjun unpacking his paper bag to reveal a stack of dishes. "I thought you would just get delivery, though."

"This place isn't that far. It was one of those situations where I felt like the driver would make fun of me for being lazy."

He knew the feeling, and smiled. Trying to put on a facade and put the image of what he had seen out of his mind. It was fine. Everything was fine. He had overreacted and created a mess in his head.

Something Kai had said before about Yeonjun's house rang in his mind. The vibes are weird. It's just always felt...off to me.

Soobin feared he was beginning to understand what he meant.

They ate in a show of routine, performing normalcy, talking idly. Soobin focused on his food and made an attempt at shaping his day into something interesting. Yeonjun kept glancing over his shoulder towards the hallway but didn't bring up his drains again.

"We're booking new venues," Yeonjun finally said, abandoning his food in favor of the bottle on his counter.

"Bigger ones?"

"Yeah. Theaters and concert halls. A few thousand capacity."

"That's great."

Yeonjun shrugged.

"You don't seem excited," Soobin reflected.

"I am. I just...I don't know, I'm comfortable in clubs and bars. Playing theaters and stuff puts everything in a different light. Makes me think that maybe...I need to start taking things more seriously."

"Isn't it a good thing to step out of your comfort zone?"

"It is," Yeonjun agreed, although he still sounded hesitant. "I guess I'm just nervous that I'll ruin our growing reputation, or something."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's fine if I'm drunk and vulgar in a club. Probably not so much at an official venue with real security and ticketing and shit."

"I don't think you getting your act together is the worst thing in the world, honestly."

Yeonjun gave him a crooked smile. "You always say the sweetest things."

Soobin raised his eyebrows. "What, you want me to sugarcoat it and say you're not a mess? I will, if that's what you want."

"Don't start lying to me to spare my feelings. It's not you."

"I don't think you'd like me any more if I did."

"I'm actually more afraid that I'd still like you, and you'd think that's what I want."

"Well, what do you want?"

For once, he asked a straightforward question. And Yeonjun gave him a straightforward answer. "To go lay on the grass and stargaze."

Just not a helpful answer.

"If you actually manage to find a star, I'll be impressed," Soobin snorted, getting up nonetheless, full and comfortable. The oddness of their evening was largely forgotten. "You know it's freezing out, right?"

"Bundle up, buttercup," Yeonjun replied sweetly, leading him down the hall to his bedroom closet, where he tossed out scarf after scarf and a sweater to layer under his jacket. Soobin stood and let himself be used as a coatrack until Yeonjun decided what he wanted, plucking one scarf off his shoulders and wrapping another one loosely around Soobin's neck. He also patted the sweater he thought Yeonjun had pulled out for himself. "That's for you," he pointed out. "Want me to dress you?"

"Pass," he replied, slipping the sweater over his shoulders.

"You're no fun," Yeonjun pouted, and was even kind enough to pass him a pair of gloves. Then he grabbed his bag from where it hung up and pulled out a blanket -the one he kept packed for the cemetery- and then pulled Soobin out of his room, down the hall to the back door and into his yard.

He'd never been out here before, not in the back, at least. It was small and neat, grass trimmed to perfection, protected by hedges that framed the night sky. Another facade of a pristine white-picket-fence life. Yeonjun faked everything so seamlessly. Their breath turned to white smoke against the darkness.

He laid the blanket out on the grass and Soobin helped him arrange the corners until it fell just right. Then, Yeonjun kneeled on it and patted beside him for Soobin to join.

"You can almost see the stars," Soobin remarked once he was laying down and staring up at the sky. Just to give him some credit.

"Maybe if you pray hard enough, the smog will clear."

"I think it really would take an act of divine intervention."

Yeonjun laughed lightly, shifting to rest his head against Soobin's shoulder. The air was cold even through their jackets and scarves- he must be seeking warmth.

Without giving himself a chance to think out of it, Soobin slipped his arm under Yeonjun's back and held his waist, holding him closer. Yeonjun's body stiffened for just a second, and then he seemed to relax, turning his cheek into Soobin's shoulder, nearly curled against him now.

He could probably hear his pounding heart.

They laid there for a while, huddled together under the winter sky, and Soobin only meant to lean down to see if Yeonjun had fallen asleep. Except at the same time, Yeonjun had lifted his head to look up at him, and their lips made unexpected rough contact.

Soobin already had a frantic apology primed, but Yeonjun just fisted his coat and pulled him in closer, more carefully this time. And Soobin surrendered within a second, kissing him back like he'd meant to do it all along. Maybe he had unconsciously planned it from the start. It was so easy to get lost in the plushness of his lips and sweetness of his breath. It was enough to convince him of anything.

Yeonjun exhaled softly against him before deepening their kiss, craning his neck to chase after Soobin's lips each second they separated from his. But he didn't want Yeonjun to feel any discomfort. He deserved a brief moment in time where everything was done for him.

So, Soobin gently cradled the back of his head with his arm instead of his waist, slipping down to his level. Yeonjun licked at the seam of his lips and Soobin parted them, letting him take what he pleased. He knew he shouldn't allow this to keep happening. But he also knew he had never felt like this before, every neuron in his body engaged and focused on one singular thing: how desperately he needed to eliminate the air between them.

Yeonjun kept his fingers curled in Soobin's coat, holding him close, and despite the winter wind around them, they created a small pocket born of heat and friction. His mouth tasted like hard candy and liquor, probably the closest Soobin would ever get to drinking whiskey, and if it really tasted like this, then he understood why Yeonjun was so addicted.

Slowly, his fingers worked at Soobin's scarf, freeing it from his neck in order to slip his lips and tongue from his mouth along his jawline and against his pulse. The sensation was hot and wet, and he shouldn't ever surrender to something like this, not from Yeonjun, and not here of all places. But it was new and everything he wanted. His breath came out in ragged exhales, fingers twisted in Yeonjun's hair. And Yeonjun, the glass effigy of blood trickled into the cracks between tender moments, finally released his coat only to slip his frigid fingers underneath its hem, passing by his shirt to make ice-cold contact with skin. Soobin involuntarily flinched from the sensation, but Yeonjun just pressed his hands more firmly into him, thumbs brushing over each ridge and divot of his stomach.

"Hyung," Soobin whispered frantically, afraid of just how much farther he could let this go.

Yeonjun's hands curled in against his stomach, as though sheathing claws. Putting away his weapons to spare Soobin from harm. "Hm?" he hummed, the sound traveling from his throat into Soobin's.

It would be so easy to forget his reservations and let this current carry him however far it might lead.

But that would mean giving up, giving in, and he knew better.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked instead, delicate and small.

Yeonjun, sensing the change in his mood, lifted his head to look at him. His nose had been turned pink by the cold, and his eyes were glittering chips of ice in the darkness, strangely comforting. "What?"

Soobin didn't want to say leading him on. That's not what was happening. But with the way Yeonjun made his head spin, it felt like he got lost so quickly, his autonomy vanishing the moment Yeonjun touched him. And his inability to put a name to his actions left him barely treading water.

"I don't know what you want from me," he said simply.

Yeonjun paused, like he'd never even considered it. Then he asked instead, "What do you want from me?"

Soobin sighed. Everything had to be a game. "I don't know. This isn't normal to me."

"Which part?"

"All of it," he murmured. "It's just...not what I expected. Ever."

"Bin-ah, you don't need to take it so seriously. And if it's too much, then you can just tell me that. You won't hurt my feelings."

He wasn't afraid of hurting his feelings.

The part that confused him was, "How could I not take it seriously?"

A small smile bloomed in the shadows of Yeonjun's face, and he slipped his hand out from back under his shirt to caress his cheek. It was warm now, heat stolen from his own body and returned to him. "Sweet Soobin-ah." He seemed to like saying that about him, enamored with Soobin's innocence. "You're not marrying me, right?"

If only he was, he wouldn't feel so ridden with guilt.

"Right..." he slowly agreed, trying to follow.

"So, there's no need to take it seriously. I'm just having fun. I like kissing you. That's really all there is to it."

"But..."

"Are you having fun?"

"It feels less like fun and more like a heart-attack."

Concern flickered across Yeonjun's face, and he said, "That's not good."

Realizing his statement might have been overly dramatic, he backed up. "No, no, it is good. I've-" He sighed, knowing the next statement out of his mouth would be pathetic but unable to stop it from rolling off his tongue. "I've never felt like that before." Frustrated with himself, he just sighed again before pressing a small kiss to Yeonjun's lips. It felt like the most rewarding form of thievery he'd ever undertaken. "Forget it. I'm not making sense."

"You're cute when you don't make sense." Yeonjun turned, head resting on Soobin's arm now as he gazed back up at the sky. "Don't worry about it, Soobin-ah. I'll wait for you to know what you want."

Soobin turned to look into the darkness, too, wondering if God was really watching from all the way up there, and if he could truly see them when the sun set. "So, you won't kiss me until then?"

"Nope."

"Not even once?"

"Not even once."

Soobin fell quiet for a second, then said, "I don't think I want that."

"Well, then you're already one step closer to figuring it out."

He said that, but Soobin felt farther than ever from understanding anything. A few months ago, his entire life felt pre-determined, a safety net extended underneath him from childhood that never gave even with pressure applied. It held his weight and supported him through life's various ups-and-downs.

But now, it wasn't even as if the net had torn beneath the insurmountable pressure. It had been taken away entirely, not given the chance to break. Nothingness extended beneath him, and through it he fell blindly.

He didn't know if he was falling in love or falling from Heaven. And he feared the moment the ground rushed up beneath his feet, the only thing to break his descent.

...

After their last encounters, the buildup and rapid cataclysm of everything happening between them, he knew he needed God. He needed to consult him, seek guidance or condemnation for his actions, anything to liberate the crushing weight of guilt from his shoulders. And yet it felt selfish to seek him out in his home, with Soobin already aware of his sins yet not armed with the capability of repentance. He would not be able to stop. This he knew without a doubt. And so if God instructed him to do so, Soobin feared his ability to carry out that divine order with blind devotion.

A dark figure kneeled alone in the back, candle light casting a pool of flickering shadows around him from which it seemed he bloomed like a deadly rose, long black knit cardigan spread and folded like individual petals, sharp pieces of metal glinting underneath the netting like cold droplets of rain.

The only apex predator in the room, he sensed Soobin's presence, attuned to his cadence of step, of breath, of being. Eyes opened, he turned.

When they made eye contact, Soobin felt it under his skin. Yeonjun's gaze on him sending fire even under the holiest roof, bringing the Devil to mind as he sat there in the house of God.

He needed worship like his own sort of dying flower under the sun. To turn his eyes to God in desperate prayer and hope he could still hear him, save him from the sin crawling up his legs and into his very soul.

He feared that if God refused to intervene on his behalf, he would fail to fight it. He had already stumbled, tripped and fell into an embrace in which he knew better than to seek warmth. Vows of virtue cast aside in favor of exploiting the darkness that drew him in, like a drug demanding he surrender to its fuel and everything the fire consumed.

And it was always the coldest stamping out of the embers smoldering within him when Yeonjun turned his cheek, lowering his head back into silent prayer, casting Soobin out from the light of his flames.

But in this instance, he was the better man of the Lord. Choosing faith, remaining on his knees before the cross, communing with the Holy Spirit and not the demons whispering in the back of his mind.

Soobin should follow suit. He should respect the institution of God, the silence of His house, and Yeonjun's private communion.

It felt like his legs were made of iron rods, the way he walked mechanically to the empty pew across from where Yeonjun sat, how slowly he lowered himself to the step. Yeonjun didn't pray with his hands pressed against each other. Instead, his fingers were linked, hands close to his chest. He wore an angry expression, fervor visible even through his closed lids.

Soobin forced himself to turn away and shut his own eyes, but in his search for God, all he turned up were visions of Yeonjun.

Was he poisoned?

He couldn't escape, and he wondered if God had already forsaken him in the moment Soobin let Yeonjun touch and stain his virtue.

But He was clearly with Yeonjun. They spoke in that moment, only a couple of meters from him. No one else could incite such anger in him. So if He remained by Yeonjun's side through everything, surely he couldn't have given up on Soobin for a few fatal moments of weakness.

Soobin kneeled there until his calves went numb and he felt the imprint of the kneeler in his bones. Even though his mind was frantic and perverted, simply being under the roof of the church served to ease his paranoia.

When he opened his eyes and stood, Yeonjun was gone. A couple of other late-comers had trickled in, and the candles burned low.

Stiff but mentally renewed, he slipped out from the pew, down the center of the room and out the door.

When he spotted Yeonjun lingering on the bottom steps, the turn in his stomach betrayed his still-flickering ember of anticipation. He wasn't on his phone, wasn't even watching the door. Instead, he stared intently out at the street, as if searching for something. But he glanced back when Soobin drew closer, and he swore some of the darkness left his eyes.

"You were praying for a while," Yeonjun remarked. Never just a simple hello.

"Maybe I had a lot to say."

"I always take the longest when I don't have anything to say at all. I feel like God's hung up the phone in the first few seconds and I have to keep redialing his number but I forget the combination halfway through and so I start over, and by the end I wonder if I ever had his number at all."

Soobin raised his eyebrows. "Do you ever get a direct line?"

"Sometimes. It's never a pleasant conversation, though."

He sounded so certain, but so unhappy. Like he had been cursed with faith, unable to leave or escape. And yet his experiences with God seemed more vivid and real than Soobin himself had ever experienced before. In a way, his suffering gave Soobin hope.

"Come on," was what Yeonjun said next, loosely holding Soobin by the wrist and tugging him down the street.

Confused, Soobin had to take a few extra steps to catch up. "Where are we going?"

"Your place. I'm hungry."

Immediately alarmed, he tried to pull back. "There are so many other restaurants around."

"Not really." Yeonjun tugged him again, and Soobin tripped forward a couple more steps. "Not any good ones, at least." Then, he let Soobin go, but kept walking. "Please? I'll be on my best behavior."

Skeptical, he still trailed behind. "You promise?"

"Pinky." He wiggled his pinky finger for emphasis.

Soobin sighed, but as always, relented to Yeonjun's whims. "Fine."

"Is Kai working tonight?"

"No, he's only day shift. My sister works nights."

"I guess that makes sense. It'd be hard to play with us and have a gig waiting tables at the same time."

"You can't say anything about that to my mom."

"I won't say anything at all, Soobin-ah."

"We both know that's not true."

"Have you no faith?"

"In you and your ability not to run your mouth? Hardly."

Yeonjun elbowed him as they walked. It didn't really hurt, so he must not have been terribly offended. "That's mean. I'm very good at keeping secrets."

Skeptical, Soobin simply remarked, "I guess we'll see."

"You love giving me a challenge."

"A little," he agreed.

The restaurant wasn't far, and they could see the lights spilling out the windows from the far end of the street. Still, movement inside was minimal, and the open sign had been flipped. They were probably wrapping up their last tables for the night. Soobin held the door for Yeonjun, who waited for him to step in alongside him.

And seeing him there, standing on the pale wooden floor against the same white-washed walls and pale blue tables of his childhood, older, weathered, and more beautiful than ever, flooded him with memories.

They used to spend so much time here together, long before the business took off and it was bustling with customers every day. As kids, the two of them would sit at a booth for hours, working on their schoolwork and helping his mom carry drinks and wipe down tables when it was too much for her to handle on her own. She always made sure to keep their glasses topped with juice, and took any opportunity to pinch Yeonjun's cheeks and invite him back the next day.

Soobin could barely see that child now when he looked at him. Back then, Yeonjun had honey skin, sunshine in his eyes, a youthful roundness in his face, and short legs that struggled to keep up with everywhere he wanted to go.

Now, he stood against the same backdrop looking almost monochrome with his pale skin and black everything. His eyes held a pointed edge and bitterness that Soobin had grown accustomed to now, but wouldn't have recognized all those years ago, and the thin sharp angles of his stature betrayed nothing of the softness he was known for then.

So many things must have happened that Soobin was utterly blind to in order to change him from the inside out this drastically.

Yeonjun saw him staring and just tilted his head inquisitively. That expression alone was so intrinsic to the person Soobin had known all his life that he felt a sudden wave of relief, once again comforted by the sensation of home. So, he shook his head. "Nothing, come on."

His sister waved from the table she was cashing out, then did a double-take upon noticing Yeonjun. She blinked a couple of times, eyes wide, then gave another tentative wave. Yeonjun returned it, though strangely enough, he drew closer to Soobin, as though suddenly uncomfortable.

He almost put his arm around him before remembering his place.

Under his breath, he asked, "You good?"

"Fine," Yeonjun replied immediately. "It's just...really bright in here."

"Unlike you, we do keep the lights on," he agreed, steering Yeonjun towards the counter not so much with his touch but the momentum of his body and Yeonjun's aptitude for following in his wake. He drifted like a spirit through the crowded floor, using Soobin to carve out a path through which his essence could flicker and emerge on the other side. The counter stools were empty, so Soobin gestured that Yeonjun should sit and said, "I'll go check in with my mom," trying to spare them both the awkwardness of confronting her together.

But it was as though she could hear them from the kitchen, ears perfectly attuned to what might inconvenience and embarrass Soobin the most, for she pushed through the door the second Soobin suggested Yeonjun stay back and wait. Her arms were full of dishes, half of which she nearly flung from surprise. Still, she had been in this business for a long time, so she steadied her teetering trays and lined them up on the counter, ringing for his sister to collect them.

"Yeonjun-ah!"

She ignored Soobin with the tunnel vision of a wolf to a wounded deer, excitedly reaching for his hands across the counter.

Caught off-guard, Yeonjun managed to figure out what she wanted, letting her cling on tightly as she said, "It's so wonderful to see you, dear! What brings you here?"

Regaining his charismatic footing, Yeonjun returned her smile and replied simply, "Your son."

As if seeing him for the first time, his mother glanced up at him. "What did you bribe him with?"

"Nothing!" Soobin responded defensively. "We ran into each other at evening prayer and he asked to come over afterwards for dinner."

"Aw, you're both such good sons, attending prayer on the weekdays and everything," she cooed, and it was the first time she had paid him a compliment in forever. All it took was Yeonjun, apparently. She likely wouldn't have anything nice to say at all if she knew what other extracurricular activities they had engaged in recently, but Soobin would accept this small blessing any day. "Well, you're in luck, Yeonjun-ah. I haven't shut down the kitchen yet. What can I get you?"

Always a charmer, Yeonjun just gave her a sweet look and said, "Whatever's easiest for you, all of your cooking is amazing. I don't want to take too much time. And let me know if you need help closing, I don't mind lending a hand, either."

Soobin felt the urge to roll his eyes, but managed to keep it down.

"Such a good boy," she praised again, looking like she was resisting the urge to pinch his cheek. Then, she gave Soobin a pointed look. "You see that? You could learn a thing or two."

Yeonjun looked immensely pleased with himself. The easy way he had with his mother used to make him jealous. Now, though, it was just kind of funny. And sad. Soobin knew a lot more than he did back then, and he understood that Yeonjun had learned his perfect manners and seamless flattery under years of duress and abuse in his own house. Of course his mother would think he was perfect. He had crafted himself to be that way to please his own parents who would never acknowledge the lengths he went to ease their burden.

And so, Soobin simply dipped his head and agreed, "Probably. He's always had better manners than me."

"Not better grades, though," Yeonjun said, and Soobin was surprised he would find something nice to say about him instead of continuing to tease.

His mother laughed, and said, "Maybe we invested too much time in math and not enough in etiquette."

"Children can't be perfect," Yeonjun told her in a kind voice, and it was so strange, seeing him removed from the stage, or the backrooms of clubs, or the dark solitude of his home. At odds with the brightness and warmth of Soobin's world.

"Now that I agree with," she corroborated. "I'll start working on dinner for the two of you." Then, she took a breath, and said, "It really is nice to see you, dear."

"You too," Yeonjun replied with a smile.

With nothing else to do, Soobin took the seat beside him, and eventually worked up the courage to remark, "I used to be really jealous of you."

Yeonjun's eyebrows went up- he hadn't been expecting that. "Why?"

"You got along with everyone so well. Especially my parents. They had nothing but nice things to say about you. I would always compare those things to everything they said about me."

Surprisingly sympathetic, Yeonjun looked him in the eyes and told him, "Bin-ah, your parents felt bad for me. They were kind because they pitied me. Of course they weren't going to tell me I was bad at math and I should try harder in class. They could tell you those things because they felt comfortable in the fact that you knew they loved you. You did know that, right?"

"Of course I knew they loved me."

"That's the difference, then. When we were kids, they didn't think I had anyone telling me I was loved. Your mom went out of her way to do that for me. And I'll always be grateful." Then, with a little smile on his face, he said, "I know that didn't make it any less frustrating for you. And you had the expectations of older siblings to live up to. That's hard. I think you've done a good job, though, and your parents are proud of you."

Oddly touched, Soobin just swallowed and nodded. Maybe he needed to hear someone say it. That person didn't have to be his mother or father. Changing the topic in order to avoid getting emotional, he said, "They think I have a secret girlfriend."

Catching on quick, Yeonjun asked, "Because you've been hanging out with me so much?"

He nodded, and Yeonjun laughed.

"That's funny. Do you want me to tell your mom I'm your secret girlfriend?"

Pursing his lips, Soobin contemplated it- not his joke, obviously, but the implications of revealing, rather anti-climactically, that Yeonjun was the reason he had been out late so often. "I don't know. It's complicated. For once, they're treating me like an adult even though they're whispering about me behind my back. On the other hand, the thought of me doing anything out of wedlock is freaking my mom out, and it might put her mind at ease. What do you think?"

Yeonjun rested his chin on his hand, saying in an irritatingly cute voice, "I think you need to make your own big boy decisions."

"Helpful, thanks," he muttered.

"I'm just saying, it's not my business. Ultimately, you're the one who lives with them and sees them all the time. What you tell them doesn't affect my life in the slightest, but it might affect yours. So, the decision's on you."

Soobin sighed. "Having you as a best friend is stressful."

The words slipped out before he could even think to rectify them, and by the time they escaped into the universe, they had already become cemented with the stream of fact and destiny. Soobin's heart raced, and he scrambled to think of something he could say to fix it, but came up blank.

Yeonjun let the tense silence linger a second too long- he enjoyed watching him squirm.

And finally, he simply smiled and said, "You poor thing. Having you as a best friend is so much fun."

Soobin once again felt the swarm of butterflies in his stomach threaten to purge themselves, wings beating ferociously. He swallowed, and took a breath through his nose.

He must have known Yeonjun would come back for seconds, because the brief breath he took to brace himself became infinitely valuable a moment later when he leaned in and asked under his breath against Soobin's ear, "You must tell me, though, do you always kiss your best friends?"

His voice felt warm, sounded sweet, somehow heady even in the clarity of the restaurant's bright lights and full tables. Soobin thought he saw spots in his vision, and he might have even swayed in his seat.

"No," he admitted quietly. "Just you."

"Mm." Yeonjun sounded pleased. "I'd really like if we kept it that way."

He would do anything Yeonjun liked in a heartbeat.

"Can we not do this right here?" he complained instead, hoping not to betray his desperation.

Yeonjun laughed, retreating from his post of influence by his ear back into the safety of his own seat. "If that's what you want."

Maybe he enjoyed doing what Soobin liked, too. The thought made him feel hot.

Thankfully, his mother came not long after holding a tray stacked high with noodles, pork, and side dishes. Apparently Yeonjun got the royal treatment. He should bring him in more often.

"Eat up, boys," she encouraged them, looking pointedly at Yeonjun. "You're wasting away."

"Thank you, eomma," he said sweetly, pulling his bowl close. Soobin echoed him, and his mother seemed happy, disappearing back into the kitchen to start shutting down for the night. They dug into their food, not saying much to one another, and slowly but surely, customers began to trickle out as his sister closed up shop in the main room, too.

Once they had slowed a little and their plates were mostly empty, Soobin asked, "Did you drive to the church?"

"Walked," Yeonjun answered through his last mouthful, extremely impolite but somehow endearing with his puffed up cheeks.

"From your house?"

Yeonjun swallowed before blinking and replying, "Yeah?"

"Isn't that like an hour?"

"Probably, I don't know."

"Your concept of time is messed up."

Yeonjun shrugged. "It's not like I have anywhere else to be. Time is fake."

"Sure, if you don't have a job or obligations that run on a schedule."

"I think I have those. I choose to ignore them."

"Managing you sounds like a nightmare."

He nodded. "My manager would agree, yes."

Soobin had the heart-plummeting realization that he had become one of those types to look at a mess of a hot guy like Yeonjun and think Oh, I can fix him.

He didn't think he could fix Yeonjun. He just thought that having him in Yeonjun's life might improve it, maybe. He was chill. He had his life together. He could maybe help him learn how to keep a schedule and not blow off all of his responsibilities on a whim.

Or maybe he was delusional.

Even a little bit of both would be acceptable.

"Well, it's a little late for you to walk back," he said, getting to his feet. "Do you want to crash here?"

Yeonjun blinked again. He hated how easy it was for him to look clueless, when they both knew he was constantly playing chess in his head. "I can take the bus."

"If...you want to," Soobin reluctantly agreed. "It's cold, though."

"Soobin, do you want me to stay?"

He had backed himself into a corner. Yeonjun was so much better at this than him.

He shrugged. "Sure, it's up to you."

"I don't really want to."

"Oh." His expression fell.

And then Yeonjun smiled, tilting his head. "Unless you ask me to," he continued. "Say you want it."

Soobin felt himself turn red and glanced around to see if any of his family members were listening. Thankfully, his mother was still in the kitchen and her sister had her earbuds in as she wiped down tables. "I'm not going to ask you to do something that you don't want to do."

"I don't want to right now," Yeonjun corrected. "Convince me."

"I- I don't know how," he stammered, anxious that someone would overhear their conversation. It would sound suspicious to anyone.

"Make me feel wanted."

Soobin didn't understand- how could someone like Yeonjun not feel desirable all the time? Why would Soobin saying as much persuade him to do anything differently?

"Are you..." He lowered his voice even more, half his attention on the kitchen door. "Are you talking in a friendship way, or...?"

"Or...?" Yeonjun pressed, and it could have been a question or the answer to his own.

He swallowed, and finally said, "I want you to stay. I'll clean up here and meet you upstairs. Okay?"

"Upstairs where?"

Soobin knew he had to be deriving some sort of sick pleasure from forcing him to spell everything out in plain terms. "My room."

And he must have been right, because Yeonjun looked satisfied, and agreed easily. "Sure. I can do that."

For someone with such a dominant personality, he seemed to enjoy being told what to do equally as much. Or maybe he didn't like being told what to do so much as he loved hearing Soobin say what he wanted. It was confusing. Soobin still didn't quite understand what he was after. But in the long run, it would be more detrimental to whatever they were building to try and craft his approach around Yeonjun's preferences. He shouldn't become someone else to please him. And besides, he didn't think Yeonjun would want that, either. He liked Soobin. At least, it appeared that way. Soobin just felt so unsure about which parts of himself were worth liking.

When Yeonjun stood, it was in such a fluid beautiful motion. He stepped up and away, and was on the other side of the room, exiting to the hall, before Soobin had even realized he was going. He sighed, stacking their dishes, trying not to become too preoccupied with what he had signed himself up for and what might happen once he left the safety of these lights and the presence of others.

He carried their dishes into the kitchen, where his mother was packing away the day's extra ingredients. As he began washing them, she said, "I think that's the first time Yeonjunnie's been here in at least five years."

"Something like that," he agreed.

"He looks sick. I mean, he's always been good-looking, but he doesn't seem well."

"He's not," he said, scrubbing their bowls.

"That poor boy always seems to be struggling with something."

"Yeah. But he's not really a fan of sympathy."

"Sympathy doesn't pay bills," his mother agreed, surprisingly firm. "Doesn't buy peace of mind, either. And I hear he's doing well for himself, all things considered."

Soobin nodded. "Money's not really his issue."

"I always knew he would be successful. I'm just not sure he's putting his talents towards the right thing."

"You know about his career?" He glanced behind him, only to see her laser-focused on packaging.

Still, she replied as if she were right beside him. "I read your articles, Soobin-ah."

"Well, then you can probably guess what he's dealing with."

"You know, as a parent, I'm somewhat conflicted."

"I'm sure you are. But I hope that you can recognize that I'm an adult and I can choose which friends to keep." Soobin surprised himself by how easily the words came to him. Perhaps he was maturing after all.

"Yeonjun needs friends like you," his mother eventually said, after several moments of letting the running water be the only sound between them. "I just worry that you don't need friends like him."

"Even if that's true, I'm choosing to be his friend. And it's a choice that took me a long time to make. Things are never going to be perfect, and I want him in my life despite that."

His mother finished packing away the ingredients, and finally turned to look at him, hands braced behind her on the counter. Oddly enough, she was smiling. "You've really grown up a lot, Soobin-ah."

It felt validating to know he wasn't the only one who saw it, and even better coming from her.

"Thanks," he said, awkward in the way where accepting compliments had never been his strong suit. "I asked him to say since it's late. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Just...promise to look out for yourself."

He wondered what they all said behind Yeonjun's back about him, the ceaseless whispering congregation, and how quickly word had traveled.

"Of course."

"And for him, too."

"Easier said than done, but I'm trying my best."

She stepped forward and squeezed his cheek. "You're such a good young man. Do you mind turning out the lights when you're done here?"

"No problem," he said, returning her smile. With that, she left the kitchen for the night, and his sister called out a goodbye through the door as it swung open. Soobin called back, promising to see her soon, and then he was left alone.

As he opened the industrial washer, it dawned on him that life was made up of such simple things. It was only the tangled web of his mind that made it all so complicated.

That, and his foil at the center of it all, waiting for him upstairs.

Soobin felt as though he had done a breaching of the veil. Twice now he had confided to his family about Yeonjun. Twice he was received with caution. Even his mother, who loved Yeonjun like a son, did not see him as someone to stand alongside.

Would doing so anyway be the sin of disobedience? Another added to his list?

She did not tell him to steer clear of Yeonjun, though Soobin knew she would prefer if their lines did not overlap too much. She had seen now in plain sight under plain light that Yeonjun wasn't the child she remembered.

Still, she asked him to watch over him. That wasn't pure repudiation.

A watery, tainted line, one only he could decide to walk and in what way.

He shut the dishwasher, steam fogging up his glasses, and took them off in frustration. Yet another reminder of his blindness, willingly obscuring his vision through the foggy lens of what he wanted to see. He pocketed them, turned out the lights, and decided to head upstairs.

Yeonjun wasn't in his bedroom like he expected. Instead, he lingered in the hall, a shadow on the wall, sliding his phone in his pocket once he saw Soobin coming up. He just barely saw Instagram's interface before it flicked off.

"Your mom wanted to show me how to make up the couch," he explained.

"I guess our roles are reversed now," Soobin said, holding the handle. The metal felt hot to the touch.

"It's nice not hosting for once," Yeonjun agreed with a smile. "Are you going to let me in?"

"What, do you need permission to come inside?" he asked even as he opened the door to his room.

"Aren't you the one who always calls me a vampire?"

"You eat too much garlic for that," he grumbled, and Yeonjun laughed.

When he stepped inside, Soobin neglected the overhead light and instead turned on his bedside lamp, dim amber slowly warming the place. Yeonjun slipped past him, examining his space with his critical artist's eye, touching his comforter and drifting over to his bookcase. With practiced fingers, he skimmed past every boring book and journal he owned, instead teasing out a folded torn notebook page.

His fingers were polarized magnets for secrets.

Soobin almost asked him to stop, but then bit his tongue.

Yeonjun unfolded the paper and looked at it for a few seconds, then glanced up at Soobin in confusion, holding it out for him to see. "You still have this?"

Heart racing, he shrugged and tried to play it cool. "No reason to throw it out."

"It's junk."

"It's the only sketch you gave me."

"And that's why you kept it?"

Soobin shifted uncomfortably. What an elegant catch twenty-two. Yeonjun had become a master of them at some point. Either he agreed, displaying once again his pathetic reverence for the man in front of him. Or he disagreed, in which case it just made him look extra repressed.

"It's a good sketch."

"Sure, it wasn't bad for back then, but I remember you being terrified of your mom finding it."

He sighed, and walked over to where Yeonjun stood, taking the paper from his hands but not hiding it away.

He had been terrified of his mom finding it, when the concept of sexuality was still foreign and dirty to him. Yeonjun had sketched it in the back of one of their academy classrooms, on a familiar late night where they had studied until their brains had melted and were just killing time until it felt acceptable to go home. Soobin wrote and Yeonjun drew and sometimes they shared with each other, but most of the time they just offered mutual silent company.

It was towards the end of high school, when Yeonjun had really started cementing his style but hadn't yet perfected the atmosphere. He experimented with different subjects, angles, and perspectives. Soobin had peered over his shoulder as he finished and remembered turning bright red at the sight. Like most of his art, the subject was a naked man, this time with only his torso and neck visible. A silver cross hung from his throat. But the piece never felt like it was about him. It was about the wooden stake driven through his heart, spilling blood down his chest, staining his body in beautifully graphic lines, and pouring through his fingers where he clutched the stake, deciding whether to pull it from his heart or suffer in the few extra moments of life leaving it in gave him. His other hand reached for his throat, desperate for prayer or penance, or maybe just the futility of drawing his last breath.

The sketch felt so visceral back then, combining the two things Soobin had steered cleared of seeing all his life, a clearer depiction of erotic violence than he had ever laid eyes on. He had complimented Yeonjun's talent, but remembered admitting that it made him feel weird. He never specified in what way, but Yeonjun asked if he wanted to keep it. Soobin wasn't sure what came over him then- he said yes.

He had never sought out porn or erotic fiction, or anything that felt astray from God's plan for his virtue.

But he had touched himself to that drawing. Only once, though the memory still stained his mind.

Back in high school, all of Yeonjun's subjects looked like himself. Thin and angular with hollow clavicles and prominent hip bones; long, slim, agile figures that bled shadow and sanguine beautifully. Yeonjun explained it was easiest to study a pose by looking at his own body- that was probably why all his subjects bore a resemblance to himself. But that made it all the more difficult for Soobin to tear his eyes away from the drawing then. It looked like his body, bare and bleeding on the page, wearing his silver cross, clutching his throat and his heart, starving for salvation.

"I always wondered if he was a vampire," Soobin said, grounding himself back in reality.

"In my head, I think the story was that he was mistaken for a vampire. People thought he was a demon, and so they killed him. But when he spent his last moments talking to God and his body didn't crumble to ash, they realized their mistake. In the end, they were the heretics and non-believers. Still, it was too late."

"What's the reason for him being naked?"

"Besides the fact that I just wanted him to be?"

"Yeah. Like...the canonical reason."

"Um..." Yeonjun frowned at the sketch. "I don't think I ever thought that far ahead. Maybe they staked him in bed." Then, he glanced back up at Soobin. "Still, why'd you keep it?"

"Honestly, I don't think you want the answer."

Yeonjun folded it back up and set it on his bookshelf as he said, "I do."

Soobin sighed again, then sat down on his bed. He really had no talent for keeping his own secrets. "It was sort of...pornographic. To me. The only illicit thing I owned. I don't know. I didn't want to throw it out because it kind of captured that time of my sexual awakening. I could probably throw it out now. But it's yours, so I guess I still don't want to."

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. Just the one. It somehow felt more personal then when he raised two. "You got off to my drawing of a guy being stabbed in the heart?"

Shamefully, he admitted, "Yeah."

"Bin-ah, that's so fucked up."

"I know."

"And so hot."

"I- what?"

Gracefully, Yeonjun lounged on the bed beside him, remarking, "I never took you as the kind of guy who gets off to gore."

"I- I'm not. I don't. I just...I think it was more like the visceral nature of it."

He tilted his head, hand imperceptibly twitching. As though he restrained himself from touch. "What part of that do you like?"

"I don't like it at all."

"But you desire it."

"I guess...some part of me does," he acknowledged. They had started treading dangerous waters, and he didn't want to surrender more than Yeonjun demanded. Still, a part of him felt beholden to his darkness and wanted to admit his own flaws, carving lines in wet sand that Yeonjun could fill with blood and wash anew.

Just the thought of it sent a shiver down his spine, tension raised.

"I think somewhere in my mind, the wires are crossed." He spoke even quieter this time, aware of the presences all around them.

Yeonjun watched him carefully, but there was something manic in his gaze. "Which ones?"

Soobin swallowed, yet another secret raised from the black well in his chest and ready to be laid bare before his own sort of confessional priest. "Violence and sex."

Yeonjun's gaze flicked between his eyes, reading between the fractal lines of his dark irises. "You know that's dangerous."

"I know."

"You could hurt the wrong person, thinking like that."

"I know," he repeated, somehow quieter still.

Through the taut silence, Yeonjun reached out, resting his hand on Soobin's left shoulder. He only had a second to wonder what the purpose of his touch was when he tightened his grip, using the leverage of Soobin's body to lift himself up. He swung one leg over his lap, taking only a single motion to straddle him.

Soobin's breath caught in his throat and he could only stare up at Yeonjun with wide eyes. He wondered if he could hear his heart pounding between them, blood working over time to satisfy Soobin's endless craving, and keep him alive under the deadly fire of Yeonjun's piercing gaze.

"The right person, though..." Soobin whispered, keeping his attention focused on Yeonjun's silver swinging cross. Just another sign of his idolatry. "They could help me."

"Don't think too hard about it," Yeonjun murmured in his ear, before kissing where his breath just touched, then beneath against his throat. "You're the reason your thoughts get all tangled up in knots."

He exhaled, releasing the breath he had held between his ribs. "What am I supposed to do instead of think?"

"Release that little monster in the back of your head. Let him do the thinking instead."

Soobin shut his eyes, hands flying to the divots of Yeonjun's waist, and then, when that wasn't enough for the monster, he yanked the hem of his tank top up and shoved his hands underneath, more satisfied when touching his bare skin.

"Is that-" Yeonjun started to purr in his ear, but Soobin didn't give him a chance to finish, capturing his lips and swallowing the rest of his question with his tongue. He felt Yeonjun's sharp breath of surprise, but he surrendered easily, making no demands of Soobin and instead letting him take what he needed. He tasted sweet like the cola he had with dinner, mouth soft and cool, lips willing victims. Soobin didn't consciously register he had bitten Yeonjun until his tongue swiped over Soobin's in an effort to taste his own blood. Sure enough, the cola taste was overridden by copper, but he liked that, too.

When they separated for a split second of air, Soobin breathed, "Is your lip piercing real?"

"Yeah, I just don't keep it in all the time."

"Can you wear it the next time I see you?"

"Sure." Yeonjun placed a wet kiss under his jaw and asked, "Why?"

"I want to know what it tastes like."

"Freak." But Yeonjun seemed to like the idea, pressing their bodies closer together and kissing him again. Soobin's hands drifted from his waist to his back, splayed out against his spine, engulfing him and drawing him into his own body. Yeonjun cupped his cheek with one hand and threaded the other through the back of Soobin's hair, as if breathing the same air wasn't good enough for him- they had to share their lungs.

As much as Soobin loved kissing him, he still felt unsatisfied. He needed something more...visceral. He needed to see Yeonjun's body and inflict his own mark upon the canvas it inspired. He broke their kiss, and he could hear Yeonjun panting in his ear as he instead licked his throat, tasting salt and perfume, before sinking his teeth into his skin.

Yeonjun tightened his grip on Soobin's hair on reflex, but didn't tell him to stop.

He moved just a few centimeters down, leaving the same mark above his clavicle, and this time, Yeonjun writhed a little, more affected than he had been before.

Heat flooded his system from the surefire proof that Yeonjun felt him and desired him. His lust wasn't lonely, but rather a shared and consuming reunion. He pulled Yeonjun's tank top from the back to expose more of his chest, and kissed there as well, dragging his teeth against his skin until he felt him tremble.

"Soobin-ah," he said softly, in a small precious voice he had never heard before. Not teasing, not degrading him, not even seducing. But rather, pleading.

It rushed through him, a sudden surge of power and desperate need. He gripped Yeonjun by the waist again but this time with more certain intent, lifting him off his lap and down into the embrace of his bed. Yeonjun, a master of going with the flow by now surely, laid his hands leisurely up on the pillows behind him and parted his knees, welcoming Soobin between them.

He fit like a key in a lock, framing Yeonjun between his arms, pressed into the mattress below. He had never gotten this far ahead in all of his secret perverted daydreams. He had Yeonjun entrapped and eager, but what could he deliver that would ever live up to his expectations?

His dreams were always at odds because realistically, he knew he needed Yeonjun to tell him what to do, but he wanted to please him all on his own, proving he could be everything Yeonjun wanted.

Still, once he slotted their bodies together, Yeonjun loosely wrapped his leg around Soobin, and brushed his fingers under his chin, drawing him into another deep kiss, gently guiding him without pushing too far. Then, Yeonjun lifted his chin, breaking their kiss but leaving his lips slick and red. "What do you fantasize about?"

What a loaded question. "I wouldn't know where to start," he murmured.

"Is it me?"

An easier question. Maybe he realized Soobin wouldn't be able to answer anything more complicated, flushed and out of breath as he was. "It's always you."

Yeonjun's gaze darkened, arousal bleeding black and shadowed into the way he looked at him through heavier lids. "What do I do to you? Or..." He dragged his thumb in a rough caress over Soobin's cheek, wiping away spit. "What do you do to me?"

Soobin covered Yeonjun's hand with his own. "I'm braver there."

"In your fantasies?"

"Yeah."

"Doesn't mean it's not you," Yeonjun said softly even as he took Soobin's hand and brought it to his lips, placing delicate fluttering kisses on his knuckles, the back of his hand, then down his arm. So effortlessly sensual. Soobin knew he would never reach that level of seduction- it was so obvious that Yeonjun wasn't trying at all. It came to him as naturally as breathing.

He felt like he melted a little more under each kiss, like a candle burning low, flame touching the pool of wax he became. "Can you..." He stopped himself- asking would be pathetic. "Tell me what you want."

"Is that it?" Yeonjun propped himself up to make eye contact, only a breath of air between them. "Is that what you like?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I just want to make you feel good."

A small smile curved Yeonjun's lips. "You know what makes me feel good?"

"Hm?"

He leaned in, not for his mouth, but for the fleshy part of his ear, dragging it between his teeth before whispering, "Watching you fall apart because of me. Because of how much you need me."

He put into words exactly how Soobin felt. He wanted to be that for Yeonjun, too. He just didn't know how to start. "You like destroying things," he murmured instead.

"Just the pretty things that I know I can put back together."

He was so much better at this than him.

"Can I destroy you a little, Soobin-ah?"

Yeonjun offered to take the reins from him. If Soobin had been bolder, he knew Yeonjun would have let him keep the lead. He would have nodded and smiled and taken whatever he gave. But he wasn't strong enough yet.

"Please," he breathed, feeling Yeonjun's hand against his chest, bunching his shirt, and pulling him towards him. He reversed their positions seamlessly, once again straddling Soobin, kissing his cheek and then his mouth once before grinding his palm against his crotch.

Bothering to check as if Soobin hadn't been hard for the last ten minutes.

"Oh, darling," Yeonjun purred against his mouth, obviously pleased with what he found. He entertained Soobin with his tongue while he worked the top button of his pants, Yeonjun pulling them and his boxers together. He lifted his hips so they would come off with ease, and Yeonjun shifted down with them, dancing his fingers along Soobin's chest to his thigh where he dug them in tight.

It hurt a little, but he found even that arousing.

He expected Yeonjun to use his hand again, so he couldn't help the gasp that escaped him when he only held his dick for a moment before enveloping him in his mouth.

There was no escaping looking at him this time either. He sucked on it once -the most mind-numbing sensation- before pulling off and licking up the length of his shaft. He did this a few times, slicking him up with his spit before taking it into his mouth again. But much farther than he had before, sinking down on his cock until Soobin felt the tip hit the back of his throat. Instinctively, he wanted to thrust up but barely managed to restrain himself. He couldn't see Yeonjun's face, covered by his long black hair. Still, his black nails, his silver rings, and the feeling of his cross brushing between his legs made the memory irreplaceable. Yeonjun bobbed his head up and down, creating a consistent rhythm that had Soobin's cock hitting the back of his throat every other second. He worked the part of his length that he couldn't fit with his hand, almost reversing their last experience entirely where his mouth was now the star and his hand an afterthought.

Soobin covered his own mouth with the back of his arm, knowing a terribly incriminating sound could burst from him at any moment. Yeonjun's noises were lewd enough, wet and messy between his hand working up and down on his dick and his mouth trying to milk him for everything he was worth. He even used his tongue as yet another weapon, constantly pressed up against the underside of his cock, an incessant massage that had him writhing, trying desperately not to grab his hair and thrust into his mouth.

Yeonjun began to slowly ease off, but sucked the tip as he went, before coming off with a loud pop.

They met eyes- holy God in Heaven, he was beautiful. Hair messy, spit slicked around his red lips and down his chin. He even rested Soobin's cock against his cheek, pumping slowly while he watched him. Staining his own face with spit and precum.

"You can fuck my mouth if you want." Just another sentence that proved he could read his mind. "I can feel how tense you are."

"I- I can't do that," he managed to breathe.

Yeonjun tilted his head, sultry cat-like eyes studying every inch of him. Then, he dragged his tongue over the tip of his dick for a second before asking, "Why not?"

He visibly twitched at the sensation. "It wouldn't be nice."

He knew he should feel embarrassed when Yeonjun let out a light little laugh, but he was too mesmerized by his beauty. "You don't have to be nice all the time. I'm giving you permission. Brutalize me for all I care, just let yourself go." Then, remembering he was dealing with a skittish creature, he added, "Or I can just keep doing what I'm doing. You tell me."

"Keep going," he said, then followed with, "Maybe I will. Maybe I won't."

"Sounds like a challenge," Yeonjun murmured, jerking him off a few more times before easing the head of his cock back between his lips, showing off how pretty it looked there for just a second before swallowing him as deep as he could.

And because Soobin knew he wanted it, and because his body craved it the moment he felt the soft invitation of Yeonjun's throat embracing him once more, he quickly threaded his fingers through Yeonjun's hair and lifted his hips, moving his head at the same time.

He felt dirty as soon as he did it, but the sensation was incomparable. He needed more. And so he did the same thing, again and again, thrusting into his mouth at a frantic pace. Yeonjun's hand moved back to his thigh, sticky and wet, this time scrambling for purchase.

Using him like this, there was no way Soobin would last. Yeonjun still worked his tongue back and forth against his cock even with Soobin brutalizing him exactly like he had asked for. Spit pooled around the base of his dick as Yeonjun lost his composure, not so much sucking anymore as letting his mouth be used.

"Where-" Soobin started to ask, voice deeper and rougher than he had ever heard himself sound before and Yeonjun just whined, gesturing vaguely at his full mouth.

That was enough to push him over the edge- he hoped he read his message right, because even if he hadn't, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from coming down his throat. He held Yeonjun there by his hair, orgasm coming in bursts, mind-numbing to the point he thought he might black out, and Yeonjun waited until he was done to swallow and lick him clean. When he finally looked at him, Soobin felt overcome with heat all over again.

He was a mess. Mouth red and wet, hair disheveled, and even his eyeliner had run, black watercolor rings painted around both of his eyes and dripping towards his cheeks.

Soobin knew he couldn't look much better off, cheeks red, hair plastered to his forehead, a light sheen of sweat coating his body. But in this instance, it looked like Yeonjun was the one who was a little destroyed in the end.

Yeonjun took a second to sit up a little straighter and catch his breath. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and remarked in a hoarse voice, "I didn't know you had that in you."

"I didn't either," he admitted quietly, hurrying to put himself back together so he could lean over and cup Yeonjun's cheek, hoping to soothe the pain. "I'm sorry."

Why on earth would he feel such an intense urge to use and sully the person he found as beautiful as porcelain clouds on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel?

He felt sort of disgusted with himself, dirty and confused, but Yeonjun leaned in to kiss him and the softness of it washed away everything else.

"Don't apologize," he eventually parted with him to breathe against his skin. His chest still rose and fell rapidly. "That was fun."

Still, Soobin felt like he should wallow and grovel a little more. "It didn't look fun. It looked painful. I don't like making you cry."

Surprised, Yeonjun reached up to check beneath his eyes, staring when his fingers came away wet and stained with black. "Wow. I guess you did make me cry."

"I hurt you."

"Sweet Soobin-ah," Yeonjun murmured, wiping his fingers off on his tank top and leaning forward into him. "I wasn't crying because it hurt."

"Why, then...?"

"I was crying because you had me choking on your massive dick."

Confused, he blinked and repeated, "Massive?"

"Yeah...?" Now Yeonjun was looking at him like he was the weird one. "Bin-ah, did you think ten inches was normal?"

"I...never really thought about it. It's just...what it is." Then, concerned he'd been strange for yet another thing all his life, he had to ask, "How big is yours?"

To his surprise, Yeonjun turned pink and ducked his head. "It's not about me. Anyway, my point is, it was good. I liked it."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

"Did you?"

"Too much. I'm going to Hell."

"Soobin, it's not a sin."

"Depends on who you ask."

"Well, go confess to Father Kim, then. See what he has to say."

"I might," he admitted.

Yeonjun just shrugged. "If that makes you feel better. I'm going to go wash my hands. Can I use your mouthwash?"

"Knock yourself out." As Yeonjun got up to leave, Soobin leaned back against his pillows, eyes falling shut. He'd never felt so spent. If just that took so much out of him, he couldn't imagine how exhausting sex must be.

But how euphoric he would feel afterwards. He floated in a sort of high now, head fuzzy in a pleasant way, feeling as though he'd shed the weight of something holding him down. Like the practice of bloodletting but with something a bit more blasphemous.

He thought about what Yeonjun said, advising him to confess if only to clear his mind. Did he really need to, though? Yeonjun seemed just as close to God as he had always been, and engaging in these sorts of things wasn't exactly new to him.

He should confess. But he didn't want to imagine the world in which his pastor looked at him as a completely different person. He didn't want to betray his faith and the trust he'd built within his community. Everyone saw him in a certain light.

Knowing he had sex with Choi Yeonjun, as secretive as they tried to be about it, would change everything.

Yeonjun had gotten less cautious over the past few months. He went to evening prayer in his casual clothes, sometimes even in the outfits and makeup he wore before shows. His nails were always painted, and the holes in his body from all the piercings he took out couldn't remain inconspicuous for much longer.

Soon enough, associating with him would be just as telling as kissing him in the middle of their congregation.

But Soobin had no intention of pulling the plug. He couldn't. The deeper he fell in with Yeonjun, the harder he knew it would become to crawl back out, and he had already dug himself a six-foot grave.

The door clicked open at that moment, and Soobin opened his eyes, thoughts retreating like shadows from light, glancing at Yeonjun as he returned. He smelled like hand soap and spearmint. "I ran into your dad," he informed him.

Soobin cringed. "If he knew what we just did..."

Yeonjun gave him a pitying look, but instead just said, "Made no mention of it. Asked if there were enough blankets on the couch, and told me to pass his well-wishes on to my mom." Then, with a shock to Soobin's system, he cupped his cheeks and kissed him softly. "Don't stress yourself out," he reminded him once he pulled away.

Soobin had half a mind to chase him back into his bed again. Then, he regained control of himself. "I'm not," he said quietly.

"It's nice here," Yeonjun said, rubbing his bare biceps as if he were cold. He had no idea how he could be- Soobin himself felt like he were burning up.

"Why's that?"

"The vibes are...warm. Nothing in the mirrors."

"Huh?"

"Forget it."

Sometimes, Yeonjun's sentences started out normally before deviating into nonsense that Soobin couldn't follow. Maybe it was a random, undiscussed side effect of substance abuse.

Still, Yeonjun lingered in the doorway, looking a little nervous before asking, "Would you mind...swinging by my mom's place with me tomorrow?"

"I can," he agreed, though the question left him confused. "Why do you want me to come, though?"

"Just...because. I left something there the last time I went over and I need it."

"And...I need to come with you?"

"I think...yeah, you do."

His replies were growing odder by the second. "Why?"

Yeonjun didn't answer, instead blinking cutely and appealing, "Please?"

It was weird. Every time Yeonjun did something weird Soobin just went along with it, never able to break his spell long enough to keep asking questions.

This time was no different.

"Sure, fine," he relented. "Just wake me up when you want to go. We both know you'll be up before me."

Yeonjun smiled, placing another fluttering kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Bin-ah. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you," he said, holding the door aside for Yeonjun to slip through, into the familiar darkness of his childhood home. He watched for a second, hypnotized by Yeonjun's pale retreating back, a ghostly light in the shadows broken only by the blackness of his shirt. And then he rounded the corner and was out of sight.

Out of sight but certainly not out of mind.

...

When they knocked on the door to Yeonjun's family home, the sun bore down, doing its best to blister through the stubborn cloud cover overhead. Soobin glanced up at the sky. It looked pockmarked and burned, and a shiver of unease suddenly ran down his spine.

No one answered the door. He was beginning to expect silence on the other side of every request for entry. First Yeonjun's, and now here, too.

Yeonjun's expression darkened. He barely took the time to knock again before twisting the handle. Met with resistance, he cursed under his breath and fumbled in his pocket for his keys before fitting one in the lock. Finally, the handle gave and Yeonjun pushed it open.

Soobin thought Yeonjun would call out for his mother, but he stayed uncomfortably silent, face enshrouded in shadow. There were no lights on in the entryway.

They crept in quietly. Yeonjun stepped over the threshold, holding the door for Soobin before closing it soundlessly behind him. They took their shoes off in the hall. A dim lamp had been left on in the living room, and someone had forgotten to turn off the television. Some sort of late night talk show droned on in a mindless ramble. On the coffee table rested a stack of magazines, an unwashed mug, and an orange prescription bottle. A cross hung on the wall surrounded by family photos.

"Wait here," Yeonjun whispered, not explaining anything before heading further down the dark hallway and into a different room. Soobin ran his fingers over the floral quilted couch cover -only the edge as the rest was completely covered in plastic- and wandered over to the kitchen. There were a few dishes piled in the sink and the heavy scent of lemon cleaner hung in the air.

There wasn't anything...wrong with the place. And yet an inexplicable aura of wrongness lingered. Tenfold whatever lingered in his own house.

Had Yeonjun's family home always been like this?

The television screen flickered, and the longer Soobin watched, he realized it was on loop, repeating the same commercial for prescription medication over and over again. For some reason, the people in the commercial looked slightly off, faces a little too waxy, smiles dripping. The woman who did the voiceover spoke in such a tone that it got in and under his ears, metallic and ringing.

Side effects include loss of vision, dizziness, confusion, suicidal thoughts- And then it went to static, startling him enough to make him jump. It was so jarring.

Thankfully, Yeonjun returned at that moment, frowning at the screen. He quickly grabbed the remote and turned it off.

He had a thick leatherbound book under his arm. Confused, Soobin just shot him a look. Yeonjun shook his head and motioned for the door.

As soon as they were back outside, Yeonjun locked the door behind them, and then shut his eyes, leaning against it.

Soobin wanted to give him a second -he looked like he needed it- but he had to ask. "What was that about?"

"Sorry," was what Yeonjun offered in response. "She's asleep."

"Okay. What was the rest of it about?"

"What do you mean?"

"The tv and the plastic on everything and...you really don't think it's weird in there?"

Yeonjun shrugged. "She keeps everything covered so she doesn't need to clean as much. The tv is broken, it's always acting up, but she won't let me buy her a new one. I don't know about it being weird, though. It's hard to maintain a house when you're chronically ill and like by yourself. I think you're being judgy."

A retort primed itself on his tongue, but he blinked, and swallowed it back. Maybe he was being a little judgmental. "Yeah. Sorry." Then, in an effort to change the subject, he nodded towards the book Yeonjun had tucked under his arm. "What's that?"

"Just an old photo album. My mom asked me to take it and reorganize the pictures the last time I was home, but I forgot. So I wanted to make sure I grabbed it this time."

"That's nice of you."

"Well, I have memories of my childhood and she doesn't, so it's only fair."

Soobin felt his smile drop. "Oh. That's...depressing."

Yeonjun elbowed him. "Lighten up. C'est la vie, or whatever."

"What is that, French?" he asked as they walked down the steps and away from his mother's house.

"Yeah. 'Such is life.' Basically means that's the way things are, and there's nothing you can do about it. So why let it bother you?"

"I guess that's a nice way of looking at things."

"Yeah, but I don't know if you need to look at things that way if your life isn't depressing."

"Well, now I'm bummed again."

Yeonjun laughed. "Sorry. I'm not so good for lightening the mood. You want me to walk you home?"

He felt strange, like his insides were lightweight, perched on an unfamiliar precipice. Something akin to apprehension, but unfamiliar and beckoning from the void.

Soobin shook his head. "The church is in the opposite direction. I'll see you later."

"Suit yourself," Yeonjun simply hummed, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. They stood at a crossroads on the sidewalk, Soobin's feet already pointed towards home but Yeonjun's firmly planted. "Soobin-ah?" he asked, calling him back out of his turn.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?" Yeonjun was looking up towards the sun, eyes narrowed. Then they locked on him, and Yeonjun tilted his head. The light glittered in his pupils, weathered gems from volcanic sand.

"You probably won't be hearing from me again for a while."

His heart sank, and he immediately started trying to figure out what he might have done wrong. "Is this about last night?"

Rather than deny, Yeonjun acknowledged, "Yes. But not in the way you're thinking. I hope you won't take it personally."

Soobin wanted to show Yeonjun he had a stronger constitution than that, but at the same time, another part of him resented Yeonjun for constantly walking all over his feelings. "Kind of hard not to," was all he eventually said.

"I know." Yeonjun at least had the nerve to look somewhat sympathetic, and when he stepped forward, Soobin instinctively braced himself, even though he knew nothing could happen between them out on the street like this.

Or at least, he had always thought of it has a certain steady barrier. But when Yeonjun covered their faces from view with his hand and leaned in to kiss his cheek, Soobin could only stare at him in shock.

The attempt at covering it didn't matter. Anyone who was looking out their window would know what he had just done.

"Sorry," Yeonjun murmured as he drew back. Then, he turned, one hand clasping the photo album to his side, other one shoved in his pocket, hurrying down the street. Leaving Soobin to feel like he had been ignited and set ablaze from cheek to toe, all alone.

He shut his eyes, and then looked towards the sky, wondering if he might be able to catch a glimpse of what Yeonjun saw. But the only sight that greeted him above was a vast blistering sea of grey sunlight.

Movement to his left caught his attention. The heavy curtains covering the windows inside Yeonjun's mother's house twitched, still swinging from the phantom of touch.

Another shiver raced down his spine -likely caused by the chill in the air- and Soobin quickly turned to leave in the opposite direction.

...

The dark walls of the confessional booth pressed in against him like the confines of a prison, leaks of light peeking through the latticework, offering liberation only by means of self-sacrifice.

Soobin had ducked in when the church lay empty, no one else seeking the weekly hours where God's ears were open to listen and receive.

Today, it was only he who had sinned.

He felt them burning in his throat when he pulled the curtain aside, suddenly flooded in darkness under the weight of what he wanted to say. The words inscribed themselves upon his flesh in molten bleeding lines, and bubbled up when he kneeled behind the screen. He did not have the strength to face his Father face-to-face. He made the sign of the Cross, and shut his eyes.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned," he murmured into the darkness. "It has been..." he hesitated, realizing he didn't have an exact number off the top of his head, "many years since my last confession."

"Choi Soobin," the Father acknowledged, knowing only by the sound of his voice. "Lay before me your sins."

He kept his hands pressed in prayer and eyes closed as he confessed, "Idolatry. Blasphemy. Lust. Covetousness."

He could continue.

"Frequency?" the question came back through the screen.

"Daily." Soobin took a deep breath, then said with his head bowed, "For these, and all my sins, I am truly sorry."

"Child, it has been years since you have come to me with your concerns, and never with such intensity. Tell me what has brought such misgivings upon you."

"I...I feel myself straying from God."

"You are losing faith?"

"No, my faith has never been shaken. Rather, I think of another before I think of Him. I disregard my place as one of His sons to please another."

"Another idol?"

He hesitated again. "A person."

"And to this same person do your other sins apply?"

"Yes."

"Child, I wonder if what you are describing is not a sin at all, but something very natural."

"Father?"

He didn't understand.

"To lust, to covet, to worship, all surely can be sinful in excess. But in moderation, such feelings beg the question...is that not simply love?"

Bile rose in his throat- it would have been easier to bear the details of his sins than to consider such a possibility. "I fear my feelings are not in moderation. I've become...obsessed."

"Such folly is common of man. It is good to acknowledge where you have lost your way. Tell me, does this other show the same folly towards you?"

Yeonjun's obsession could never rival his own. Still, he beckoned Soobin to his side at any chance. He seemed enamoured with his company, at least up until the point that he shoved him away. "...Perhaps. It's difficult to say."

"I will still deliver penance onto you, for in excess, what you have presented are indeed sins. But I would advise you take care not to shut yourself out of love for fear of cutting off God, for He will always encourage you to find happiness alongside faith."

"But Father, what if..." He took another breath, trying to ground himself through the haze of candles burning low and dim light pressed against his lids. "I worry that God would not approve of this person I want to be with."

"Are they not of faith?"

"They are. Perhaps more than me. But they seem plagued by doubt as well, and afraid of how He will receive them when the time comes. And...some might say the act of us simply being together...is a sin in it of itself."

Having finally stripped that black seeping fear from his chest and thrown it at the confession screen, he felt free but terrified, on the edge of a great chasm, the confirmation of the Father the only thing to keep him from plummeting to Earth below.

"Hm. I can understand why you might be burdened by such trepidations. Certainly, it is not an easy path you are set to walk. But you are strong, and with God's guidance, you will find your place."

"You will not steer me from this path?"

"My endorsement should have no bearing on your choices. And in this matter, I do not want you to fear that you will be cast out. We are all children under God. The path you are on is exactly where you are meant to be. He watches over each and every one of us."

"Yes, Father."

"For your sins, pray the Act of Contrition."

He repeated the words posted in the Confessional, having not recited this prayer in years. It had been too long since he unburdened himself of sin.

Once this was done, his priest granted him absolution, to which Soobin echoed, "Amen."

"Go in peace, child. Pray to God and resolve your fears under the assured light of His presence watching over you."

"Thanks be to God," he murmured, and rose, only then feeling the stiffness in his knees. Still, he felt he would accept days of such a position, of his knees bound and bolted to the altar, head hung in deference, awaiting his penance, if only to to be rewarded with the lifting of this burden from his shoulders.

He was not yet a sinner. Not beyond saving. Retribution could unmake his folly.

Soobin stepped outside the church to a twilit sky and dark shapes taking form in the grace of concrete and man's creation.

He glanced at his phone, which he had set to silent since he went inside. Even when turning off the setting, his notifications remained empty. He wasn't sure if he should feel disappointed or relived.

Since Yeonjun left him on the sidewalk, Soobin thought the storm in his head would clear and the seas would settle. He would find stable footing once again, and ground himself in what mattered most: God, family, and work.

He did bury his head into those things wholeheartedly, at least, as much as he could. He helped around the restaurant, took on as many assignments as his supervisor would give him, and attended service multiple times a week. Though over the past few months, it felt like his entire life rode on a wave subject to Yeonjun's whims. Either he was entirely Yeonjun's, or entirely devoted to forgetting him.

But no matter how much he tried, he always found a way to haunt him. Yeonjun had become his own personal ghost.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, his phone pinged with an Instagram notification: yawnzzn has posted a new photo.

Soobin should swipe it off screen and ignore whatever message God was trying to send his way. Instead, he clicked it open. He just wanted to see him.

At first, he thought it had to be a separation or yearning induced hallucination. Yeonjun sat against an old rococo paneled wall, one knee pulled up to his chest, other leg stretched out in front of him. He wore a nightgown, bright red with thin satin straps, one slipping off his shoulder, the tattered lacy hem only barely coming to his thighs. On his feet were a pair of white latex combat boots, bright red drops spattered across their slick surface like blood. He had his head cocked, and a seductive sleepy look in his dark shadowed eyes. Red lipstick was smeared roughly across his cheek.

A dozen glass bottles littered the ground around his feet, artistically reflecting the deep reds, ambers, and browns of everything, casting broken glass reflections up Yeonjun’s legs, across his face, and along the wall. Another half-full bottle stood up in his grasp- he held it lackadaisically, as though drained of the energy it took simply to lift it to his lips.

And then Soobin saw the logo in the bottom corner. It was a magazine cover. Prestigious, edgy, and expensive.

For the first time, he found himself wondering why in the world Yeonjun played music at all when he clearly made all his money from modeling.

On a whim, he sent a message to Yeonjun’s account with the message: Why don’t you just do this all the time?

He started walking, heading for his house when his phone pinged. It was an Instagram DM. Yeonjun’s reply simply read: It’s soulless.

Soobin didn’t swipe the message open. He wouldn’t know what to say.

But after a few moments, his phone pinged again: You like it?

He stopped in his tracks, fingers frozen over the keyboard. There was a right answer and a wrong one. With Yeonjun, it was always a gamble. Or maybe he only went wrong when he overcomplicated things. So instead, he tried to channel Yeonjun’s nonchalance and replied: Yeah. You look good. Then, before Yeonjun could tease more, he switched the topic: So you’re talking to me again now?

Yeonjun let him stew for a while before sending: You’re so petty. Just because there’s a lull in our conversation doesn’t mean we’re not talking anymore. Are you feeling neglected?

He sent a shrugging emoji: A little.

Yeonjun didn’t wait long this time: Poor bunny. You need some excitement?

Soobin felt his heart begin to race: Depends. What do you have in mind?

Instead of replying right away, Yeonjun just dropped him an address and said: We have a show tonight. Come pregame with us. Maybe I’ll even pay attention to you.

Frowning, he said: What, or maybe you won’t?

Yeonjun sent a photo of him leaning over what was clearly their dressing room counter, mirror reflecting not only Yeonjun’s shirtless top half, silver cross dangling over his pale chest, but all of the band members half-dressed, and some other guys Soobin didn’t recognize. And his message read: Come demand my attention.

Soobin regretted going to confession. He had a feeling his penance was about to mean nothing in comparison to the sins he now desired.

I think you’re the Devil, Soobin’s last message read before he changed courses, heading for the location Yeonjun had dropped.

Yeonjun just sent back a red lipstick kiss.

The venue his map brought him to was along the urban suburban strip, at the crossroads between suburbia and metropolitan paradises. He could hear the music pounding from within, but a line was only just now beginning to form, and from a quick glance, Soobin could tell this was a bar.

Unsure of what to do with himself, Soobin placed a bet on Yeonjun’s ego and slowly edged his way to the bouncer checking IDs.

For the first time, he only had to glance at Soobin, down at something in his hands, and then he nodded. “Staff access door under the stairwell. Band is in the big green room, you can’t miss it.”

He blinked with surprise. That was easy. “Cool, thanks,” he said, then nudged his way past the crowd through the narrow front door. Inside, the room was just as narrow, occupied by a full wrap-around bar, warmly lit with a sweet fragrance in the air. A small black sign with an arrow pointed downstairs and just read Entertainment.

He sighed. Yeonjun’s band never played the warmly lit, sweet-smelling places. And sure enough, he took the spiraling metal stairs down to find a wide basement, bricks painted black, floor splattered with all colors of neon glow-in-the-dark paint. The walls were ringed with ultraviolet black lights, breathing life into the floor, creating a hypnotic and confusing atmosphere. Soobin ducked under the stairs before he could lose his train of thought, locating the black marked door nearly out of sight and slipping inside.

Tacked up signs with arrows pointed him to the green room, which had a sign for Aurora Violet on the door. Soobin raised his fist to knock, then realized they probably wouldn’t be able to hear his attempt at courtesy, so he just turned the handle and let himself in.

As predicted, the room was in chaos. Most of the space was taken up by Taehyun and Kai tossing a water balloon back and forth, laughing and shrieking each time they thought it would burst, everyone else giving them a wide berth. Beomgyu sat cross-legged on the couch, earbuds in, eyes closed. The same few guys Soobin didn’t recognize from Yeonjun’s picture took up the other couch in various leisurely positions, clustered together to watch something on one of their phones.

Comfortably in character, Yeonjun lingered by the mirror. He looked worse than he did the last time Soobin saw him- even hollower, if it was possible. Pale and thin, coming by the shadows under his eyes naturally. He still hadn’t put a shirt on, and was currently running his hands through his long black hair, making it appropriately disheveled.

Soobin’s eyes went to his face first, and then downward. An onyx ring glittered from where it was nestled in his red bottom lip. A white crystal angel wing dangled from a gem above his navel. He had all his piercings in tonight. Soobin felt his stomach tighten.

He knew Yeonjun had to see him reflected in the mirror, but he made no attempt to acknowledge Soobin’s presence. Absorbed in himself as always.

And so, Soobin approached slowly, skirting carefully around the water balloon game that was growing more precarious the longer it went. Kai raised a hand in greeting, before nearly fumbling the balloon, and Soobin waved back.

As he saw Yeonjun standing there, staring in the mirror, lithe back to him, the tattoo of his spine exposed and rippling with his movement, Soobin thought he really did look like a panther. Fit and poised to strike, nimble and deadly.

And so he liked that when he braced his hands on the edges of the counter framing Yeonjun’s body, he suddenly looked much smaller, and much more like prey.

Soobin barely recognized himself in the mirror when they stood there together like this. He had never seen his own gaze so sharp before, so zeroed in on one single target. He even sort of fit in for once, in his faded grey t-shirt and jeans, a leather bracelet his sister got him a long time ago around his wrist.

They locked eyes in the mirror, and Yeonjun’s lips curled into a smile.

He was stupidly pretty.

And maybe he liked the way they looked together, too.

“Why’s it so crowded in here?” Soobin said as some sort of greeting, knowing Yeonjun wasn’t one for small talk.

“Guys from Pandora’s Cross are opening for us. Venue didn’t give them a dressing room, though, so we offered to share.”

“Why wouldn’t they get a dressing room?”

Yeonjun shrugged, but made no attempt to escape from the cage Soobin created around him with his arms. “Sometimes there’s just not enough space to go around. We used to get dressed in the van all the time. Still do occasionally if we’re playing for someone big.”

Soobin hummed to acknowledge he heard him, then carefully rested his chin on Yeonjun’s prominent shoulder. His hair tickled his nose, piercings dangling in front of Soobin’s lips. He almost had the impulse to catch one of the chains between them. But Yeonjun had other plans for how he could keep them busy, turning his head and catching Soobin in a short but charged kiss, surprisingly forceful.

Soobin thought he would recoil. Instead, his body seemed to accept what came, at least when it came from Yeonjun in the sanctity of his small private world. More than anything, he just wanted to taste his lip piercing. He got the barest hint of that bloody metallic taste on his tongue before Yeonjun braced his arm against Soobin's chest, creating a firm barrier between them. Kiss broken, he looked him in the eyes.

"Not afraid?" Yeonjun asked under his breath.

Soobin raised his eyebrows. "Not really. You want me to be?"

"No."

A loud pop cut through the tension between them as everyone's heads whipped around to see the remains of the water balloon in tattered fragments on the concrete, Kai's feet absolutely soaked. Kai stared in disbelief at the mess around him, as if he really thought there could be any other outcome.

Taehyun cheered and then immediately held out his hand. "Pay up," he insisted.

Kai laughed, then shuffled around in his pockets for his wallet, pulling out...a Pokémon card. It was in a plastic sleeve and everything. Taehyun swiped it from him, triumphantly transferring it to his own wallet.

"Nerds," Beomgyu said, even though from where Soobin stood, it looked like his eyes were still closed.

"You're one to talk," Yeonjun immediately shot back for the two of them, probably just bored and interested in arguing.

Beomgyu smiled, looking completely serene. "Hypocrisy is a look I wear well."

"One of many," Taehyun said, winning a handful of brownie points with his boyfriend whose smile grew bashful, but he didn't say anything else.

"We're gonna head out to set up backstage," one of the guys from Pandora's Cross -a guy who was both tall and well-built, something Soobin tried to ignore- called over his shoulder to Yeonjun.

"Cool." Yeonjun saluted him, and they were on their way.

Next to them on the counter, Yeonjun's phone vibrated. He reached around Soobin to grab it, smile deepening into a frown the longer he read, and then he clicked it off with an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes.

"What's that about?"

"Slavery," Yeonjun muttered darkly. At the same time, Beomgyu looked down at his phone, and he came up with a similar expression.

"Did you see the group chat?" Beomgyu said across the room to Yeonjun. his voice quiet but carrying in a deep timber. The other two members checked their phones as soon as he said it.

"Yeah."

"Oh." Kai read whatever message had been sent, both his gaze and tone unreadable. "Um...do you think it's possible?"

"No," Beomgyu said immediately as Taehyun replied, "Yes."

The two of them glanced at each other, unsurprised but displeased with each other's responses.

"It's not," Beomgyu insisted. "I don't care how desperate you are for their approval. It's not happening."

"What happened?" Soobin whispered to Yeonjun.

He sighed again, then said without pretense, "Our management wants us in to record tomorrow. Again. All new stuff. Again."

Soobin struggled to understand, wondering if he was missing something. "As in...new stuff you've already written?"

"No," Beomgyu called over, answering for in. "As in brand new shit he wants us to write in the next ten hours."

"That's not possible, though," Soobin said.

"It could be. We've done it before. Think about the opportunities," Taehyun urged, leaning forward to compel the rest of the group with his intensity. He clearly wanted to win them over.

"Think about our mental health," Beomgyu bit back, clearly not buying it. "We've pushed out music every single time they've asked for it, and gotten shit all in return."

"You're not being fair," Kai quietly gave his two cents. "Every time we meet their demands, they reward our hard work. Taehyun is right in saying that this could open doors for us."

"Okay, but this is ridiculous," Beomgyu pushed. "An entire EP overnight? I don't care if it's for the fucking king, I'm not doing it."

"Maybe we could negotiate," Kai offered.

"We didn't get any of this by sitting on our asses and letting chances pass us by." Taehyun ignored his olive branch, locking gazes with his boyfriend. "If we show them that we can do the impossible, then they would have every reason to make us their number one priority. Our promotion could skyrocket. Our venues, our security, our brand deals, everything. If we put in the work-"

"Haven't we already been putting in the work?" Beomgyu cut him off. "We're out busting our asses on stage at least three nights a week. And in the time that we're not performing, we practice, we write, we record, and we pray for a scrap of recognition. Half the time we're trying to work, we get kicked out of the studio to make room for someone else. If they want us to produce music in record time, they owe us the respect of a recording space, at the very least."

"We can ask for that," Taehyun agreed, carefully trying to loop in Kai's idea. "We don't have to take their demands sitting down, but I'm saying that we should approach them gracefully and think. How can we use every opportunity to our advantage? That should be our number one priority."

"Our number one priority should be making music and having fun," Beomgyu muttered. "Stop trying to speed-run success."

They weren't coming to a consensus, and as if by default, all three pairs of eyes flicked to Yeonjun, who was still leaning against the counter, quietly observing. He realized everyone in the room was staring at him, waiting for a tie-breaker, and he just shrugged.

"I think you both have a point. I agree with Taehyun that we shouldn't let this opportunity pass us by- we're at a critical point in our trajectory and every offer we turn down is a heavy strike against us. We're not big. We're not rich. And we're not famous. We need to show that we're agreeable and motivated to work, otherwise our label will drop us in a heartbeat. We're just money to them, and if they don't see the numbers going up at a satisfying rate, it's easier for them to just cut their losses. On the other hand, Beomgyu's right, too. We're in this to make music that fits our artistic vision and because we enjoy being on stage. We don't want to burn ourselves out so much that it ruins the experience. So...I say we do what Kai suggests. We agree to produce the EP conditionally. I know we can get something together once we're high after the show. They have to provide us the recording space for as long as we need it, the equipment we'll need, someone to help do the final mix, and we need to think about what comes after. What do we want out of this? Personally, I say we bargain for a radio tour. It's one of the cheaper ways to promote and will give us a chance to connect with our local and international fans."

Then, he turned to Soobin and cocked his head.

"You're a business man. What do you think?"

"Um..." He wasn't expecting to be put on the spot in front of everyone. "I'm not really a business man. But, from a media standpoint, I think you guys are way underselling your popularity. Even if your label dropped you, your fans are loyal and they'd follow. You're acting like an underground act when you've got a fanbase that frankly far transcends your attitude. Yeonjun alone has millions of followers. I think you should leverage it more to get what you want. Yeonjun's right in saying that you're not people to them- you're just numbers. So show them the numbers and present a good case. Compromise will work, but rather than make a bad deal, aim to be the side that gains the most. Don't let them have the better end just because you think they're in charge. You're the commodity, after all. If you're going to sell yourself, set the price high."

Yeonjun nodded along, and slowly, the other members followed.

"So, you're saying ask for more?" Kai summarized.

"I'm saying don't just ask for what you need. Ask for what you want. The worst they can do is say no."

"Or drop us and run our names through the dirt," Taehyun muttered.

"Relax," Yeonjun said. "You're spiraling."

"I just don't want them to suck all the fucking joy out of what we're doing," Beomgyu complained, rubbing Taehyun's shoulder from where he had come to sit beside him.

"You just don't want to work hard," his boyfriend bit back.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes. "Here we go again."

"Let's not," Kai interjected, but even Soobin could tell the couple were about to steamroll over his protests.

"I'm so fucking lazy and unmotivated," Beomgyu supplied all of Taehyun's ammo for him, head thrown back against the couch cushions, eyes closed. "I've got no ambition. I don't get out of bed all day. I drink my nights away," he rattled off, waving his hand ambiguously. "I'm an empty wasted husk of potential."

And Taehyun just let him do it, arms crossed, glaring and finally asking, "Are you done?"

Beomgyu yawned, blinking his eyes open enough to glance at his boyfriend's expression, gauging his mood. "Eh."

"You want to do me next?"

"No, there's nothing to make fun of. It'd just depress me."

"No, go on. Please."

"You're a bastard."

"Yeah, alright. And?"

"And you care more about money than my feelings."

"That's not true."

"Yeah? Then prove it. Don't work my creativity over a cheese grater."

"It's never been my intention to do that."

"Are you two done?" Yeonjun cut over them, less than sympathetic. Soobin could only imagine they had been through this before to justify that sort of reaction. They both looked at him, Beomgyu slightly guilty, Taehyun stone-faced. "I don't want to have to make an executive decision. And I don't want to step on anyone's toes. But we need to decide, and we need to do it now."

"Vote?" Kai suggested. Then, he raised his hand. "I'm in favor."

Taehyun and Yeonjun raised their hands as well. Beomgyu stared for a few heartbeats at the swift but certain decision, then sighed.

"Okay. Fine. I guess this is what we're doing tonight."

"I'm sorry," Yeonjun said, drawing nearer to him and sounding like he meant it. "Tell me what you need to get through it, and I'll make it happen."

"Shots," Beomgyu replied honestly. Kai nodded in eager agreement.

"Well, you're in luck, because we're at a bar. Make it through this set, and your tab after is on me."

"Our sugar mommy strikes again," Kai teased, and Yeonjun made an almost threatening fist. Unfortunately, his cute face ruined the ruse.

"Why are you mommy?" Soobin asked, genuinely curious.

Kai blinked, then gestured vaguely towards Yeonjun. "He's mom-shaped. He's got momisms. Also...he has the most money."

"That at least is true," Taehyun acknowledged with a tilt of his head.

"Well, maybe if I had a dad I'd know how to be daddy," Yeonjun replied good-naturedly, seeming at ease now that his bandmates were more or less comfortable in their decision. Then, he glanced over at Soobin and asked, "Are you watching the show? You can chill here if you want. We're not doing anything new."

"I'll watch," Soobin said, already knowing his answer before Yeonjun asked the question. "What about after?"

"As much as I'd like to take you home, I'll be stuck here."

"I kind of figured."

"You're welcome to join us," Taehyun offered. "Yeonjun-hyung and I will probably just sit out on the roof smoking and dicking around until we have enough on paper to work with."

Soobin wasn't sure he wanted to be involved in that. He nodded towards Kai and Beomgyu. "What about you guys?"

"Probably drinking and dicking around until we have enough noise to work with," Kai promptly echoed his bandmate.

He wondered if substance abuse was necessary to create art. Or if artists just abused substances to cope with the pressure of creation.

"How will I ever choose," he replied, and his deadpan sarcasm was enough to make them laugh.

Their laughter sparked a warm feeling in his chest, something either new or lost to time. He couldn't tell if he had any nostalgia for it, but it blossomed in a smooth embrace of unfurling petals.

It was embarrassing to admit, but for the first time in his life, he felt like he was a part of something. That he didn't have just one friend, but a group of them, to join, commune, and commiserate with. He was happy that Kai and Yeonjun had found each other, and that they had built this thing together, despite how destructive it seemed, and how much it consumed them. Otherwise, he might have gone his entire human experience oblivious to this feeling.

What a strange thing, that his happiness was a by-product of their coincidences. It was just another miracle in the vast pool of God's work. A clear sign that He had His hand in everything.

Even Soobin's sins were by design. And so he smiled, and said, "I'm better with words. I think I'll join you on the roof."

And what a twisted web of them he made when he knew those words only took shape to keep him by Yeonjun's side. Yeonjun, who pretended like he didn't care, shrugging and murmuring his agreement, but Soobin had known him long enough to read the smile on his lips.

Chapter Text

Drained of its artists, the green room was simply a room. Soobin's room, for the time being. He couldn't watch them perform. Not again. It felt like baring his soul for Yeonjun to siphon, leaving behind nothing but lust and frustration.

Instead, he remained the backstage phantom. And he sort of liked the eerie quiet, knowing that just a few corridors down, a writhing mass of bodies and shadows twisted together in pure revelry. To remain separate from it all almost felt like reaffirming his purity.

The quiet was strange not in its isolation, but in its depth. How heavy the silence pressed around his ears when on the outskirts of its barrier, he could hear the chaos from the show. But it came to him muffled, drowning under water -more literally, layers of concrete- before reaching his fortress of solitude.

The distance turned Yeonjun's voice into a stranger's. Soobin knew it was him shouting over the microphone, singing his siren songs and blacklisted anthems. Rationally, he knew it was him.

But from here, he sounded like someone else.

He wondered what their lives would be like if they were strangers to one another. Would Soobin be as enraptured with him, addicted and obsessed, if he did not know his base flaws and the chemical makeup of childhood? Or would his infatuation be even stronger if it wasn't muddied by the bitter taste of their past?

To ease the quiet, he worked. His laptop kept him company, warm and humming from the strain of another long night. The clacking of keys familiar. Like calling an old friend to combat fear of the dark.

It was supposed to work like that, wasn't it? He and Yeonjun were old friends. But the thought of calling him to combat any fear twisted Soobin's mouth in a wry smile. Yeonjun would sooner melt into the shadows than chase away the dark.

He heard the end of the show, but more than that, he felt it. The collective release of electric tension, snapped and dissipated throughout the air. The heavy rain of footsteps dispersing throughout the venue and into the night. A tidal wave of frenzied energy rushing towards his sanctuary.

The band crashed from their performance like a sugar high. Soobin watched as they poured into the green room one by one, in various states of mania. Beomgyu drifted in first, floaty, above the mortal plane of existence the rest of them walked. Eventually, he made his way back to the couch, tucking himself into the corner and reaching vaguely for the bandage strips to fix around his calluses.

Taehyun came next, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, eyes glimmering from that singular rush he must feel up on stage, gazing out over the lights, the screams, and the sea of madness. He didn't seem as out of it as Beomgyu, who he quickly looked towards then headed for the restroom once he realized his boyfriend wasn't getting up to greet him.

Yeonjun followed a ways back, pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat, glittering with fever. His cheeks were flushed pink, heavy shadow and eyeliner smeared into a dark haze around his eyes. His loose black sweater clung to his body as if compelled by static. Soobin shut his laptop at the sight of him and stood, already there with his hands ready when Yeonjun went to tug at the hem of his sweater. Soobin helped him get it up and over his head, folding it neatly on the counter.

Kai entered last and least affected. His demeanor remained cool, platinum hair barely ruffled, though a coy smile touched his lips when he saw Soobin at Yeonjun's side. He was coated with sweat like the rest of them, bunching up the end of his black t-shirt to dry his forehead and neck.

"Good show?" Soobin asked, and only Kai had enough breath to respond.

"Great," he replied with a grin, his bandmates just nodding feverishly.

Yeonjun pressed a towel to his forehead, then his throat, muscles rippling under his pale skin. Lithe and lean, once again reminding Soobin of a big cat.

"Night's only just started," Beomgyu muttered, pushing his damp hair back in a futile attempt to keep it out of his face.

Taehyun emerged from the restroom, gaze immediately flicking to his boyfriend who still refused to look back. Soobin saw the nearly imperceptible sigh leave his lips, and heard the statement he made under his breath to Yeonjun as he passed by, "I'll meet you guys upstairs."

They both took the hint, Soobin exchanging a glance with Yeonjun before they moved as a unit; Yeonjun hung his sweater over his shoulder and led the way out into the hall, Soobin only a step behind.

"Do they fight a lot?" he eventually worked up the nerve to ask once they were a couple turns away from the green room.

"Yes and no," Yeonjun answered, pushing open a black door marked Rooftop Access - Fire Exit. "They argue constantly. But they don't usually fight. You get what I mean?"

Soobin thought about the quips and sharp exchanges he had with Kai and with Yeonjun over their years of knowing each other. And then he thought about the fights- the real ones, where wordplay became swordplay, and someone always ended up getting hurt. "Yeah, I get it."

The door led outside, to the dimly lit alleyway exterior of the venue. It was deserted, cold wind kicking up discarded cigarettes from the concrete. Yeonjun took the rickety fire escape stairs two at a time, and Soobin only hesitated for a second before following him.

At the top of the fire escape, the night sky unfolded through an orange-indigo haze. Yeonjun helped him up onto the concrete of the rooftop, and it had been a long time since Soobin felt stone scrape his skin.

"Isn't this kind of cool?" Yeonjun asked, wandering away from the alley and towards the edge overlooking the city street below. He tugged his sweater back on to spite the chill.

"It is," Soobin agreed. "If a little vertigo inducing."

"You'll get used to it." Yeonjun sat on the lip of the concrete, knees pulled up to his chest, and patted the space to his left.

Soobin didn't hesitate as long this time. He sat beside him, and after only a second's contemplation, let his legs dangle over the edge. It was only three stories down. Maybe Yeonjun had started him on a low roof on purpose, and they would work their way up to skyscrapers in Yongsan.

Beside him, Yeonjun slipped a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up. The ashes glowed orange, deeper than the lights below. And then he exhaled, before leaning back and laying his head down on Soobin's lap. He was considerate enough to hold his cigarette off to the side, flicking ashes over the building's edge. But when he inhaled the smoke into his lungs, the scent still brushed Soobin's nose, sharp and bitter. Mixed with the cold, it coated his tongue in an acrid warmth.

"You didn't even ask," Soobin quietly complained, though he knew he would've minded a lot more if it had been anyone else.

"Sorry. Is it okay if I smoke?"

"Dick. Retroactive doesn't count."

"You want me to put it out and ask again? That's a waste of a good cigarette."

He sighed, mindlessly carding his fingers through Yeonjun's hair. "You're lucky you're pretty."

"I know."

"You don't usually smoke, at least not around me."

Yeonjun took another drag, then exhaled, and said, "I don't like being cold."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't smoke in the winter. It's a pain."

"I...thought it didn't work that way. Nicotine addiction and all."

"You know, it's funny. Despite having an incredibly addictive personality, cigarettes don't do it for me. I don't need it like I need alcohol. They just calm me down."

Smiling to himself, Soobin asked, "Did I get your heart rate going that much earlier?"

"Like a rabbit," Yeonjun murmured, flicking his ashes again. The wind whistled by, stirring his hair and compelling Soobin to watch the debris it kicked up along the street. "I've been thinking about something."

Soobin pulled his fingers through his hair, soft silky strands picked up by the breeze. "What's that?"

"What I would do if something bad happened to me. Who I would call. It's strange. I've never really felt like I had anyone."

Soobin could understand why he wouldn't call his mother. But, "The guys?"

Yeonjun shook his head, then took another pull from his cigarette into his lungs. "I mean, I would have had to. Taehyun, probably. But he's young, and he has a lot on his plate. I don't want to burden him. Beomgyu's compassionate, but he's not reliable. Getting a hold of him is impossible. And Kai's in the same boat as Taehyun, only worse. I would never want to make him worry."

"I think you overestimate the burden you place on others."

"Not really. I'm not a great friend. And the likelihood of something bad happening to me is higher than it should be. I'm not responsible, at least not for myself." Yeonjun sighed, bringing his cigarette back to his lips, and Soobin hated that he looked beautiful even while killing himself from the inside out. "But, lately...I don't know."

"What?" he asked gently, sensing Yeonjun had grown skittish towards whatever he wanted to say.

"Never mind."

His coaxing hadn't worked. Soobin tried again. "You can always call me."

Yeonjun's gaze left the skyline, glancing up at him instead. His eyes reflected the stars even through the smog and clouds above. "Can I?"

"It's worked up until now, hasn't it?"

He sighed, staring at the ashes crumbling between his fingers. The embers glowed orange, burning dangerously close. "I guess I'm afraid of the day it doesn't."

"Why are you thinking about this?"

"It's just what I do. I finally start to feel...happy. And I hate it. All I can do is count down the seconds until that feeling is gone."

Soobin's immediate thought was to berate him for always being so down on himself. But, the longer he let himself dwell on it, the more he thought he might understand. In a way, he was afraid of that same feeling. Always worrying about the joy of a simple moment slipping between his fingers, never to be recaptured. His comfortable state was one of contentment. Even dissatisfaction was preferable to the unease of the unexpected.

These days, though, he felt a lust for life that he'd never really craved before. Or maybe he always fought down those cravings for fear of what else he could be tempted to surrender.

He looked down at the streets below, and for just a flash of a second, he wondered what it would feel like to jump.

Shocked by where his mind had gone, he recoiled. Yeonjun felt him flinch, digging his heels in to steady them both and looking up at Soobin with wide eyes.

Then, he followed Soobin's gaze, to the empty concrete, and understood. "It's normal," was all he said, taking one last drag of his cigarette before letting it fall to its death below.

"Not for me," was all Soobin could quietly reply.

His words crystallized in the cold night air, hanging between them for a while. Then, Yeonjun asked, "Why did you let me kiss you earlier?"

Lost in his thoughts, Soobin barely managed to pull his head out long enough to say, "Huh?"

"In the dressing room. In front of all those people. What was up with that?"

He licked his lips and swallowed, feeling the frigid air crack them once abandoned by warmth. "You get in my head."

Yeonjun blinked. "What does that mean?"

"Being around you. It messes me up."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"Both."

"I didn't think anyone could mess you up enough to have you kissing a guy in public."

Soobin sighed. "Yeah, well, you underestimate just how much you fuck with my head, then."

Yeonjun blinked again, staring at Soobin with something close to concern. In fact, he reached out, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, as if checking for signs of sickness.

Soobin shook him off. "What?"

"You said 'fuck' again."

He refused to blush and back down. "I know. I meant it."

Yeonjun's hand dropped back to his side and he was smiling. He looked beautiful, hair splayed out in a black halo on Soobin's lap, cheeks pink, exhaling white air as if breathing out ghosts. "I wish I could write a song about you."

This time, his emotions got the better of him, and he could feel his face burning despite the winter chill. "Why's that?"

Yeonjun shook his head, though his smile still lingered. At that moment, Soobin heard boots clattering on the metal steps as someone came up the fire escape, and a few seconds later, Taehyun appeared, boosting himself over the concrete wall and onto the roof.

"You cool him off?" Yeonjun called as a greeting.

Taehyun sighed, coming to sit beside them, legs swinging over the edge. He immediately lit up a cigarette, exhaling smoke out over the city.

"Must be bad," Yeonjun observed, though he kept his head in Soobin's lap, obviously not that concerned.

Scratching at a chipped piece of stone, Taehyun muttered, "We just don't see eye to eye on some things. There's nothing I can do."

Yeonjun raised his eyebrows. "Concede," he suggested.

"What, and give up on everything?"

"He doesn't want to give up. He's just not hungry for fame like you are. You're in it for different reasons."

"I'm not hungry for fame," Taehyun denied.

"Yes you are. And that's fine. So am I. We're two greedy bastards. But you can't get pissed with Beomgyu for wanting something else. Doing that isn't going to suddenly make him see things your way."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

Looking unimpressed, Yeonjun just said, "Apologize. Admit to him that you're a greedy bastard."

Taehyun's eyes were round and uncertain. "And then what?"

"And then beg him to make the music anyway."

"That feels manipulative."

Yeonjun shrugged. "Maybe it is. I don't know, I'm not your therapist. But in my opinion, it's not the work he's upset about. It's your refusal to respect his boundaries."

To his surprise, Taehyun looked at both of them when he asked, "You think so?"

"I don't know you guys that well," Soobin said slowly, "but it looked to me like he just wanted you to prioritize his feelings."

Taehyun sighed again, taking another drag of his cigarette. "I'm not the right guy for him."

"Well, you're the only one he wants, so suck it up," Yeonjun replied flatly, not willing to entertain the message Taehyun was silently implying. "Tell him you're sorry and write a song about it."

"God, you're really no fun," Taehyun bit back.

"I'm realistic," Yeonjun countered, slipping another cigarette from the black pack in his pocket. "Light me."

Taehyun leaned over and lit the end for him, and Soobin got the feeling their relationship ran a lot deeper than it appeared on the surface. From all the time he'd spent with the band, he'd seen Yeonjun and Taehyun together the least. And yet, they seemed to have a mutual understanding, something that went unspoken but shaped their interactions nonetheless.

Yeonjun seemed to grow frustrated with Taehyun's continued sulking when he finally muttered, "If you need to vent, then do it. I'm not trying to give off the vibe that I won't listen. I just hate when you talk yourself into making bigger problems out of small things."

"I know," Taehyun murmured, staring off into space for a while. After the embers of his cigarette began to glow weakly and he cast it aside, he pulled out a plain spiral notebook. Or, it would be plain if it hadn't been covered in Sailor Moon and Pokemon stickers.

Soobin smiled, thinking about how many dark and blasphemous songs had been written inside.

He glanced up at the black sky as the thought struck him. They were really all just kids fighting off demons any way they could, in a desperate effort to live, and survive, and feel something until their time ran out.

Eventually, Yeonjun sat up and slipped a small black leather notebook from his back pocket. He patted himself down for a pen, and seemed to settle on a stick of eyeliner as good enough. To avoid disaster, Soobin quickly pressed his own pen into his hands.

"Wow, you're like a magician's hat. I can pull anything I need out of you," Yeonjun said with a smile, taking it and flipping the book open.

Frowning, he replied, "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"Good for me," Yeonjun hummed.

As they both began to write, Soobin's mind started to wander. He looked out at the sky, at the cars trickling by below. He listened to the wind, the white noise of the city, and the voices of late-night passersby echoing off the buildings. He thought he would be bored. But instead, he felt strangely soothed. He'd never felt so isolated yet in tune with the world. They were high above the noise and the lights, on the precipice of everything, an invisible barrier between their world and that of the one below. It was peaceful. Like their own private bubble.

"What's a good synonym for the world's end?" Yeonjun asked out of nowhere. It took Soobin a second to realize he was talking to him.

"Like...the apocalypse?"

Yeonjun held up his finger. "Yeah, that. Give me another one."

"Uh...the rapture...?"

He nodded, scribbling something down. "What can I rhyme with apocalypse that's romantic?"

Soobin blinked. "Lips? Kiss?"

"Lypse with lips is kind of a cop out. Kiss is good, though."

He smiled, leaning back to look at him write. He was cute when he concentrated so intensely, brow furrowed, mouth pulled to the side in a little frown. He sat there cross-legged, hunched over his notepad, hair falling in his face. "Whatever you say."

"That's my favorite phrase to hear from you."

"I know."

Taehyun made a gagging noise and glared at them. "You're ruining my vibes."

"What are you working on?" Yeonjun asked, trying to peer over his shoulder to read his notes.

"Something sad. Soft and acoustic."

Yeonjun frowned. "I don't like singing sad songs."

"But you look so pretty when you cry," Taehyun teased, and Yeonjun pretended to throttle him.

"Do one about sex," Yeonjun complained.

"No. You've got plenty."

"Yeah, I know. They're easy."

"Don't you want to challenge yourself?" Soobin suggested.

"Not really," Yeonjun replied, honest to the core, and Soobin had to give him credit for that, at least.

They stayed like that for a while, the two of them scratching away at their work- sometimes writing with fervent passion, other times staring blankly at the pages in front of them. Taehyun had a habit of chewing on the end of his pen while he thought, and sometimes when they needed a break, they smoked a cigarette and joked about the past. Yeonjun asked him about words, how certain things made him feel, how to rhyme, if he thought a phrase captured the essence he was going for. He painted broad strokes of his music then narrowed in on details, and Soobin liked being a part of the process. Like Yeonjun's palette, where he could mix his colors, and test different brushes.

The longer they remained there, the faster Soobin's heart started to beat. He hadn't been with Yeonjun this long conscious and sober. And unfortunately, he was starting to find that he still liked him. They were well into the early hours of morning. Yeonjun murmured philosophically, back to laying in his lap. He had his notebook propped up against his knees, and he was lazily adding lyrics now, leaning more into Soobin's hand stroking his hair.

Taehyun retired first. "I'm going to go give Beomgyu what I have. And apologize while I'm at it. See you at the studio around six?"

Yeonjun nodded sleepily. "Mhm. I'll be there."

"Seriously. I need you to show up on time."

"I know. Soobin will drop me off."

Soobin blinked, having been assigned this task without any prior discussion. "Uh...yeah. I will."

Taehyun fixed him with his intense stare, then nodded. He looked a little tired, but more emotionally drained then anything else. "Cool. I'll see you later, then." With that, he headed back towards the fire escape, his descent sending a metallic echo through the alleyway.

"I don't drive," Soobin immediately reminded Yeonjun once he was gone.

"Yeah, I know. I just need you to get me in my car on time and ride with me so I don't fall asleep."

He swallowed, feeling his heart go soft. Without really thinking about it, he leaned down and kissed Yeonjun's forehead. "Sure," he murmured. "I can do that."

Yeonjun reached up to cup his cheeks, pulling him in for a real kiss, soft but intense. Enough to have the hair standing up on the back of his neck. "I wish you'd cut me off," he said quietly.

Soobin sighed, emotions stirred by this topic once again resurfacing. "Why do you always say that?"

"Because it's true. I'm always thinking about it."

"Then why don't you cut me off instead? You pretend to all the time."

"I know. It's really not fair. But...I'm just selfish. That's the honest truth of it. I try, but I really can't deny myself anything I want."

He felt himself start to warm from the inside out. "What, and you want me?"

Yeonjun kept his fingertips pressed against his cheeks, cold against the heat emanating from him. "I feel like I've made that obvious."

"Sure..." Soobin eventually conceded, struggling to think through the hypnotism of his gaze. "But...why?"

Looking confused, Yeonjun simply replied, "Because I like you. Isn't that enough?"

"Enough for what?"

It came out with more weight and tension than he intended. He didn't want to be the person asking What are we? He knew better.

"Enough for us to keep doing this, I guess."

Soobin should bite his tongue. Instead, he pressed, "Doing what?"

Yeonjun sighed, pushing himself to sit up on his own. He thought he was about to tell him to forget it. Instead, he pulled Soobin close, kissing him deeply, feverishly. Tempting him deeper and deeper, to fall alongside him into the dark castaway chasms of Hell. To give in to temptation was his mortal flaw. He couldn't deny it. Even if Yeonjun wouldn't name what they were to each other, it was clear. They were magnets, polar opposites, but undeniably attracted. They needed this. To hold each other, to seek heat and friction, and the erasure of any space between them. He could stay blissfully happy doing this with Yeonjun until the end of time.

And that terrified him.

How quickly had he fallen? How suddenly had Yeonjun become his singular all-consuming craving? How completely had he submitted to his control?

He didn't want to think he was obsessed. He had tried his best to put space between them. To differentiate between his attraction and his true emotions. But being with Yeonjun like this, where he was regulated, and sober, and still so certain he wanted him, it was painfully compelling.

It made him wonder...maybe he did want more. More than just a couple messy exchanges to satisfy a sudden carnal urge. Maybe he needed the reassurance that they were solid, that this could...last...at least in some capacity. He didn't want to surrender all of this only for it to disappear in a matter of days. Yeonjun was so flighty, so unreliable. Like mist in sunlight, he could evaporate from his life completely. The only thing that tied them together was God and a compulsive need to worship at His altar.

When they broke apart, Soobin met his gaze, met the intensity of his fire, his magnetism, and everything that swirled within his storm. "I'm going to need more."

Yeonjun's eyes widened. Like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "More of what?"

"More of you. More from you. No more disappearing. I mean it. If you do that to me again, I'm done."

Yeonjun swallowed, as if suffocating a protest. But, he struggled, and it escaped nonetheless. "I do it for you."

"You stop talking to me...for me?"

"Yes. I know it sounds stupid, but I mean it. I- being around me isn't...good. For anyone, but especially for you. I'm trying not to hurt you."

"Well, it hurts when you act like you're into me and then leave me out to dry with nothing more than a ten-second notice and a kiss on the cheek."

Looking slightly sheepish, Yeonjun bowed his head. "Yeah, I can understand that. But...is it too much to ask you to trust me?"

"With this? Yeah."

His blood raced, asserting himself for the first time, but he didn't want to put his heart on the line. He was sick of getting hurt.

Yeonjun licked his lips, then nodded. "Okay. If...if that's what you want, then I'll stop."

Did what Soobin wanted really matter to him? Enough to make him change his behavior to preserve what they had?

"Can I be honest about something?" he asked, swallowing down his nerves.

"Yeah."

"I'm okay with...the way things are right now. Between you and me, I mean. I'm not trying to get serious on you, or demand that you treat me like I'm...My point is, I know you just got out of a relationship. I'm not expecting that level of commitment from you. But I need some level of commitment. Like...if you're messing around with me, I don't think I can stomach the idea of you being with someone else at the same time." At this point, he knew his cheeks had to be blazing red, but he knew this was important. He had to know, from Yeonjun's own lips, or else he wouldn't be able to do this anymore. "We don't have to put a label on it, or anything, or make some sort of declaration about what we are to each other. But I'm going to throw up if I know you're kissing someone else. Does that make sense?"

"I don't want to kiss anyone else when I'm with you," Yeonjun replied simply. "And I haven't been. Does that ease some of your fears?"

He felt himself breath a sigh of relief, unaware of just how heavily it had been weighing on him. "Yes."

"So...we can keep doing this?"

It felt like signing a contract with the Devil. "Yes."

Yeonjun's fingers danced up his chest. "Cool," he said, then pressed his lips against Soobin's again, warm, plush, and inviting. He was the most seductive thing in the cold. The promise of heat; so much fire emanated from him. He was the embodiment of passion.

"You taste like a cigarette," Soobin mouthed against his lips, the ashy taste lingering even when he pulled away.

At the comparison, Yeonjun lit up another before taking a drag and holding it out to him. Soobin stared at it in confusion. "Try it," Yeonjun said.

It was different from peer pressure. It felt like hypnotism. Soobin didn't really want to, but he wanted to see where Yeonjun was going with this. So, he shrugged, and took it from him, lifting it to his lips.

It felt like inhaling the air that wafted off a full ashtray. Uncomfortably dense, hitting the back of his throat and threatening to make him choke. Still, he managed to keep his composure, exhaling under his breath. Yeonjun smiled and took it back from him, snubbing it out half-smoked on the pavement. "Little fuckers aren't worth it if you ask me."

Soobin winced, in full agreement. "Why do you do that to yourself?"

"Masochism."

"You like it?"

"I like the feeling of killing myself from the inside out."

Soobin felt his stomach in his throat, repulsed by the mere thought. His immediate instinct was to condemn Yeonjun's actions. To flat out state how awful his thought-process was, and how he couldn't understand him at all.

But that was reactionary. The kind of thing he'd hate if he sat in Yeonjun's place.

"Why?"

Maybe he just needed to try to understand him.

Yeonjun shrugged. "Dunno. Compulsion, I guess. It's not like a rational choice I'm making. It just...feels right."

Soobin fought to find something he could relate with, but came up empty. "I don't know if I have anything like that."

The look Yeonjun gave him was strange. "Really?"

"...Yeah?"

"Why do you work late every day even when it makes sense to go home?"

That reflection caused him to stall. And when the answer that rose to his lips was, "I feel like I'm supposed to," he began to understand a little more.

"See, at a surface level, I don't get that. I book my ass out of the studio as soon as I can. Even faster if it's photoshoots. But fundamentally, I know where you're coming from. We're all obsessive and compulsive creatures. I think the degree to which it affects our lives is where it starts to look like a problem, or abnormal somehow."

"I think I can probably sit out here and contemplate the existential with you until the sun comes up."

It was a blunt statement, always the truth spilling from him whenever Yeonjun pried just a little bit.

"Yeah," Yeonjun sighed, a small smile on his lips. His eyelids fluttered, and he rested his head on Soobin's shoulder. His pulse quickened to a mile a minute. He'd never get used to this.

"If you want to sleep, you can," he encouraged in a quiet voice.

Yeonjun shook his head, messing his hair up against Soobin's sweater. "It's freezing."

Honestly, he'd been flushed for the past half hour. The cold didn't even register anymore.

"Let's go inside, then."

Yeonjun tried to protest even as Soobin dragged him to his feet. "I do my best work manic."

"Based on all observable data points, I'm ninety-nine percent certain you'll wake up manic."

"Do you really think I'm that unstable?" he grumbled as they made their way back to the fire escape.

"I don't think you're unstable. I think you're in a constant state of mania. They're different."

"Barely," Yeonjun muttered, the rickety metal stairs clattering under their footsteps.

"Would you prefer I lie?"

"No. It'd be funny if you tried, though."

Back inside, they found the halls empty and half-lit. The green room had been vacated. Apparently the other guys had headed out a while ago. Even the bar upstairs had gone quiet, and every step they took echoed across silence on the concrete floors.

Yeonjun shucked his sweater off as soon as the door shut behind them, and didn't bother flicking on the lights. He headed immediately for the sofa, led only by the glow of his phone screen as he set an alarm for a time really only meant for the moon and the sun to witness in harmony. Soobin followed, taking the other end of the couch. But Yeonjun was quick to scoot into his space, shirtless and warm, morphing their bodies together. He tangled their legs, wrapped himself in Soobin's arms, and was asleep in seconds.

For someone so tormented by the dark, he fell easily into its embrace. Or at least, he did when they lay side by side.

Soobin stared into the shadows until the black became grey, adjusting onto the surreal dream plane in which they gathered. He thought about bidding them goodnight. Perhaps they only ever sought kindness.

Instead, he shut his eyes tight and banished the blackness from the recesses of his mind.

...

Days passed, dwindling into weeks, shorter and shorter marching towards the center of winter. When November rolled into December, Soobin found himself sitting cross-legged around his family's living room table, blowing out the candles on a homemade birthday cake. His family sat beside him, smiling and cheering on another year passed in his march towards death, and although time went on, his mind remained listless.

He couldn't ground himself to reality. He tried to pray but the words escaped him. He tried to write but every article he churned out left the same bland taste in his mouth.

He only felt alive when he thought about Yeonjun. Like a flame reignited every time his name passed Soobin's lips.

True to his word, Yeonjun hadn't disappeared without a trace. But the gamble he and the band took paid off. They were everywhere. Their name was out in the open. They had gigs at radio stations, universities, music shows, and even festivals. They were bigger than ever. And so even Yeonjun's time had become a marketable commodity, rare and precious.

Soobin thought he wanted nothing to do with it. He had even said so himself every time Yeonjun asked him to come to a show or visit him at shoot. It felt empowering to be the one untouchable, even for a moment. But those moments were fleeting, and ultimately his petty revenge left him unfulfilled.

The nights called to him. The bleak dark hours watching shadows and submitting to the hypnotism of Yeonjun's voice. He missed their esoteric appeal, existing in the space between time, moving not forward or back but sideways. Freed from the constraints of what was linear and mundane. That space only existed when Yeonjun opened it up to him. He tried to find it on his own, but only ever ended up at the threshold of God, staggering into church when he had nowhere else to look.

It was a tasteless substitute. As much as it went beyond the core of his being to admit, praying at the altar meant little to him these days. He left the steps of the church hungry for more.

He sometimes went with the hope of seeing Yeonjun hunched in the candlelit shadows, seeking the same vapid fulfillment. But they never crossed paths, praying at separate hours in separate ways.

And after his birthday, another year passed without a word from God, Soobin began to wonder if his prayers went anywhere at all. God never answered him.

But when he prayed at Yeonjun's altar, an answer always came.

He couldn't fight it off any longer. Soobin slipped his phone from his pocket as he sat on the ice-slicked steps of the church, and sent a simple text:

Where are you tonight?

An answer eventually arrived, his idol ever cryptic.

Slipping between the cracks a bit. You need me?

What does that mean?

Sorry. Just a little out of it

Drunk?

A little. Come take me home

[location attached]

It was a venue he didn't recognize deep in the heart of Seoul. Getting there would be a pain, and navigating the city's bustling nightlife would take all his energy. It was already late and he knew the cold wouldn't keep the crowds at bay.

But if Yeonjun was drunk, and as listless as him, someone had to see him home safe.

Soobin sighed, and pocketed his phone. He wouldn't reply. He wanted Yeonjun to stew in his own expectations. If only to get the satisfaction of swooping in to save him at the right time.

He should still be able to make the night bus service before it closed.

Dropped off in the city center, it was like he woke up in a haze of lights and sound. Everything was so loud outside the headphones he wore on the bus, amplified tenfold by the sheer volume and proximity. Buildings flashed neon, crowds of people poured in every direction, heading to their last bar or club for the night.

An extremely dense congregation had formed outside a modern looking nightclub, its entryway roped off and exclusive with flashing SOLD OUT lights.

"Oh, hey! Soobin! It's been a while."

He turned to see Choi Beomgyu pushing through the people lined up outside, all of whom immediately fumbled for their phones to snap a picture. Soobin supposed he couldn't blame them. Beomgyu wore a cropped leather jacket with leopard print lining and skintight black rhinestoned pants. His hair was in a half-ponytail, blond streaks peaking out from black, and he had sunglasses perched on his head even though it had to be one in the morning by now.

Kai followed in his wake, shielding Beomgyu from the flashes with his own blazer.

"Did you watch the show?" Beomgyu asked as he pulled up next to him.

Soobin felt like a thousand eyes were watching. It was different when they stared at Beomgyu from afar, but now he had become part of the picture, too.

Soobin gave a half-wave, but shook his head. "Couldn't make it earlier. Yeonjun asked me to pick him up, though."

Beomgyu blinked several times, made intense eye contact with Kai, then covered his mouth, clearly smiling to himself. "That's so sweet. He really needed a guy like you, you know, especially after the last one."

"Oh, I- don't get the wrong idea," Soobin quickly said. "We're just friends."

Complicated, twisted friends, but nothing more than that.

"We know," Kai swiftly interjected, elbowing Beomgyu where he thought Soobin couldn't see. "I think he's still in the green room. I can get him, though, or take you back."

"Whatever is easiest for you guys. I could just text him, too."

"He's not gonna see it," Beomgyu snuffed the idea out with confidence. "C'mon, we'll take the side entrance."

With that, Soobin let himself be escorted by the two musicians around the side of the building, security detail melting off the front to follow. It was his first time seeing them actually care about their artists.

"When did you get those guys?" he asked Kai, figuring he'd know what he meant.

"Last month. As soon as our team started booking us bigger venues, someone finally realized we were being swarmed everywhere we went. It doesn't completely solve the problem, but it helps."

"Has it been different, playing for bigger crowds?"

"There's really no downsides," Beomgyu conceded, sounding significantly more cheerful than the last time they'd spoken. Maybe even optimistic. "It just gets better and better. The more people, the more energy. The more space on stage, the more we can all run around and go batshit crazy. Higher production, crisper audio. We can actually afford to fix our equipment. Living the dream, basically." He glanced at him curiously. "Yeonjun hasn't said anything?"

Maybe everyone thought they talked between these moments. For some reason, Soobin felt the need to lie. Keep up whatever facade Yeonjun painted around them.

"He has, I was just curious about how you guys were feeling. Sounds like you're all on the same page."

"Hard to be upset about playing your music for more people and making more money."

They came to a wide alley with a fenced off area -likely for trash- and a van parked in front of the door. Staff members were already there loading in equipment, and Beomgyu bowed at them as they passed.

The door led them straight into a black hallway with concrete floors. Stagehands in all black rolled amps and equipment cases past, barely sparing the artists a glance. Posters lined the walls along with hazard warnings and exit signs. Beomgyu rounded the corner, revealing two rooms facing each other, each with two name-cards on the door. One for Beomgyu and Taehyun, another for Yeonjun and Kai. Soobin could also see a makeshift lounge at the end of the hall with two leather couches and a minibar. But the overhead lights were fluorescent and flickering, and all he could hear was the scraping of equipment on concrete.

He doubted being there helped the band members relax.

Kai knocked on the door with his and Yeonjun's names. "Yeonjun-hyung, your boyfriend is here."

Soobin immediately felt himself turn pink and he said loudly to ease Yeonjun's mind and his own embarrassment. "Don't listen to him, it's just me."

"You can come in," Yeonjun called back, and both Kai and Beomgyu melted away from the door giving him twin waves.

"Good seeing you," Kai said cheerfully before turning around and heading back down the hall, Beomgyu in his wake.

Soobin let himself in just as Yeonjun had told him to do, and of course found him mid-change. As soon as he saw Yeonjun shirtless and holding a shot, he ducked his head and shut the door behind him.

"Hey." Yeonjun took his shot, then set the empty glass down on the counter, leaning against it. His jeans were low-rise, barely clinging to his hip bones, and Soobin could see the sharp black inkstrokes of the vines and flowers lining his pelvis.

Beautiful but erotic. Just like all of his art.

"I could've waited until you put a shirt on."

"You might've had to wait a while, then."

"Are you drunk?"

"Why? You want me to be?"

Soobin sighed, then walked over to the rack of clothes lining the opposite wall. Most of them were stage outfits. Yeonjun liked to change on a whim. One set was probably for rehearsal, one for the ride there. "What are you wearing home?"

"That white tank top."

It was the only white article there, making it easy to identify and slip off the hanger. Tank top was doing it an injustice. It was clearly a higher fashion piece than that, structured as though made of crossing strips of fabric, like thick bandages.

Yeonjun took it from him and slipped it on, and once on his body, Soobin could see the fabric hadn't been sewn together completely, leaving lines of skin to peek through. The length of it didn't even meet his jeans, leaving his lower abdomen and the vines reaching for his waist exposed.

"Does someone pack all this stuff for you?" he asked, gesturing to the rack of clothes and explosion of chaos throughout the room.

Yeonjun nodded. His movements were looser than usual, and he didn't wear his typically critical gaze. "Half of it's Kai's. Someone will take care of it."

"If you're sure," Soobin agreed, not really interested in packing Yeonjun's bags for him. "Grab what you need, then, and let's go."

"Where are we going?" Yeonjun asked even as he slipped his phone in his pocket and his charger and makeup bag into a large leather tote. He grabbed a jacket, too, but opted not to wear it.

"Back to your place. You asked me to take you home, remember?"

"No," he admitted, walking out the door when Soobin held it open for him. "And even if I did say that, I probably meant it in a different context."

"Well, I'd rather you text me something like that than some random guy. I'm bound to misinterpret your flirting and get you home safely. I can't say the same for them."

"Who are these mystery guys you're conjuring in your head?"

Yeonjun trailed just a pace behind him, using Soobin as a beacon to navigate down the hall and back out the side entrance.

"I don't know. Short punk rock singers with bad piercings and eyebrow slits."

"Wow. Way to stereotype. Also, why are they short?"

"Everyone is short to me."

He felt Yeonjun's fingers ghost up his spine through his coat. "Fair enough. But those all seem like weak excuses for your paranoia."

"They'd want you for the wrong reasons."

"Like what?"

"Like...for your ass."

He expected Yeonjun to ask if that was such a bad thing. Instead, he snorted, obviously amused by the thought.

"No one has ever complimented my ass unless they're already fucking me. There's nothing to compliment."

"That's not true," he argued, before realizing he was on the verge of digging himself a very deep hole. "I'm sure it's probably happened," he deflected. "Besides, there are other things, too."

"Like?"

"Your...face."

"I have a nice face sometimes," Yeonjun agreed.

"And your waist."

"What's up with my waist?"

"It's pretty."

"That's so specific."

"But," he pressed on. "It would be shallow to want you just for your pretty waist. And face."

"So I shouldn't fall for the guys that do?"

"Right."

"Those mystery men in your head."

"Yes."

"You're such a dork, Soobin."

"That doesn't make me wrong."

Yeonjun laughed, resting his head on Soobin's shoulder for just a second as they walked before straightening up. "No, it doesn't. If it helps, I don't usually fall for those pricks, anyway."

"What's your type, then?"

"I'm not really a one-flavor kind of guy. I dabble."

"What do you think you want to dabble in next?"

He sighed, steps a little off-kilter, and Soobin loosely wrapped his arm around his waist to keep him steady. "Lately, I like the nerdy type. Guys who are in to anime and rotting behind a computer all day. Seems like they're not used to someone like me. Keeps things fun."

"You know a lot of guys like that?"

"No, just the one. But despite being cute and kind, he's got a great body and a sort of Clark Kent-style transformation when he really gets going."

"Sounds like an interesting dude. Smart and sexy. The whole package."

"Stop patting your own back."

Soobin laughed, and he thought his glasses might fog up from the contrast of the redness in his face and the blustery cold air.

"I'm throwing a pool party," Yeonjun said out of the blue. He likely had just come up with the idea on the spot. "To celebrate our new music and stuff."

"It's like two degrees out. Max."

"Yeah, I'm just gonna put the pool inside."

"Inside where?"

"I don't know. My living room or something."

"Yeonjun, just rent a place."

He glanced at him in surprise like the idea had never crossed his mind. "Oh my God, that's brilliant. We could just like...rent a hotel pool."

Soobin knew Yeonjun was smart, but he also knew he was tipsy and not the most practical thinker. And when Yeonjun praised him for stating the obvious, he still felt flattered.

"Hm. But," Yeonjun continued, hand now braced behind Soobin's back for support. Warmth emanated out from between the rendezvous of their skin. "I kind of want to throw a ballroom party, too. Like a gothic period theme. And I only have one occasion. What do you think?"

"What's the occasion, again?"

"Sold-out shows and our new EP drop."

"If you have the money, why not rent the ballroom, too?" He tried to put himself in the shoes of rockstar wealth for a second.

Yeonjun hummed. "Soobin-ah, you're so smart."

He shouldn't have smiled as happily as he did.

"Thank you."

"Would you come?"

"Depends on who you're inviting."

"Well, the guys obviously. And then some people from our label, and probably other friends we have in the industry. Enough to make it fun. It wouldn't be huge, though."

"Sure," Soobin agreed, knowing this might come back to haunt him later. "I'll come." As much as the thought of socializing with dozens of strangers made his skin crawl, he hated the idea of Yeonjun being there without him even more.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he balked. He needed to rein it in. Yeonjun did plenty of things without him. And that was okay. They didn't need to be together all the time. In fact, it would be weirder if they were.

"You know, if we start going out together, you'll need to learn how to dress."

Ignoring the way his pulse picked up at the casual use of going out together, he asked, "What's wrong with the way I dress?"

"Nothing. I like the way you dress. But if I take you to clubs looking like that, you'll get more than a couple stares."

"I already do."

"It's because you look way too uptight. You're in your twenties. Let loose. Have fun. Be sexy. It's freeing." Then, Yeonjun stopped, blinked, and turned to him in confusion. "Where are we going?"

"I ordered a cab."

"But my car..."

"We'll get it tomorrow."

"Oh. Sure."

They were an interesting pair, staggering into the backseat of a cab together. It was only as they were opening the door that the crowd caught on. Cameras flashed, begging for Yeonjun's attention. Soobin did his best to take cues from Kai, and used his body to shield Yeonjun from the worst of the attention. He pushed him into the seat and barely slammed the door shut before the horde of eager fans were right on top of them. Flashes lit up the windows, bright as fireworks and gunfire. Yeonjun was surprisingly susceptible, covering his eyes and looking down at the seat. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses from his pocket.

Their driver took the cue and merged quickly into traffic, leaving the cameras behind.

"That was crazy," Soobin exhaled once his heart had slowed.

Yeonjun nodded and pushed the glasses up on his head, eyes distant and glassy.

"You still want to be famous?"

It was supposed to be a light question. But Yeonjun's lips twisted in a wry smile and he replied, "I guess it doesn't matter now."

Trying to pinpoint something concrete in his never-ending vagueness, Soobin said, "I don't know if it's worth all that."

Yeonjun shrugged, then curled into his side, mumbling, "My decision was made a long time ago. No point in worrying about the consequences."

Soobin sighed, his breath ruffling the top of Yeonjun's hair. He didn't want to give him anything more. Not even the back of a cab felt safe, their driver's eyes occasionally flicking to them in the rearview mirror. He knew they looked like an odd pair. Soobin was still wearing his white collared shirt and work slacks. They felt appropriate for praying. He hadn't known where the night would take him. The clothes felt oddly constricting in moments like this. His societal uniform, binding him to the unspoken social contract. Yeonjun didn't play into that world at all.

The street lamp outside Yeonjun's house was flickering when the cab pulled up alongside the curb. Snow fell in small shadows through the crisscross of the sickly yellow light.

His front porch light flickered, too. Like the grid for the whole block was close to going offline. Yeonjun either didn't notice or didn't care, as he made no comment on their way up to the door.

They left their shoes in the entryway. Some of the alcohol haze had fled from Yeonjun's eyes, seeing more of the world and of him. He looked at Soobin strangely once they stood together in the kitchen, like he couldn't quite figure out how he had gotten there.

And, reading his mind as always, Yeonjun asked, "What are you doing here?"

It wasn't a question about here and now. It was a question about life. About their lives together, and how they entangled.

Soobin wished he had a better answer for him than the truth. "Seeing you."

"Why?"

He tried to look past Yeonjun, to seek refuge in the folds of the blackout curtains hung up over the living room windows. Only, the closer he looked, the stranger they became. Dozens of staples winked at him from within the heavy fabric. Yeonjun's war against the daylight had taken a drastic turn in the few weeks they spent avoiding each other.

Yeonjun's gaze magnetized his attention, pulling him in and away from the question that died in his throat. Instead, he answered Yeonjun's. "I wanted to. It's been a while."

"Hm."

Soobin could never tell when an answer satisfied him. Yeonjun stepped into his space, then around, opening the fridge. The light that spilled out was white and ghostly, and Yeonjun looked like a specter bathed in it. He thought he was trying to find another drink. Instead, Yeonjun pulled out a cardboard box and shut the door. He set the box on the counter and retrieved something from the junk drawer. Soobin didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until Yeonjun flipped the box's lid and he exhaled.

It was a birthday cake. White with baby-blue decorations, finely pipped rosettes and lace. Yeonjun stuck a candle in the center and then lit it with the same lighter he used for his cigarettes. He lit a few of the red candles in the room, too.

"You got me a cake?"

His disbelief painted the question from end to end, and Yeonjun just watched him from the other side of the counter, looking mildly pissed-off.

"I don't know if you knew this, but cakes are sort of traditional for birthdays," he replied, and Soobin wondered what he'd done to deserve the sarcasm.

"Sure, but-"

"Are you going to make a wish?" Yeonjun interrupted him.

"My birthday was yesterday."

"I know. I got the cake yesterday. And you never came by to eat it."

"You never called."

"I don't always want to be the one chasing you."

Red wax dripped down the side of the candle. Soobin watched its inevitable march, asking, "In what world are you the one chasing me?"

Yeonjun frowned, similarly bewitched by the flame. It danced in his eyes. "I'm always chasing you."

"Even if that were true-" which it wasn't, "-it was my birthday," he pointed out. "You wanted me to chase you on my birthday?"

That pointed seemed to stick and Yeonjun just pursed his lips before eventually replying, "Shut up and make a wish."

Soobin rolled his eyes but closed them obediently after. Usually, he used his birthday wishes selflessly. He prayed to God for his family's health and prosperity, and sometimes for an easy day at the office. This time, he hesitated. He wasn't sure what to wish for. All he could see behind his eyes was Yeonjun. He could wish for the band's success. But did he really want that?

He didn't want to overcomplicate things- he chose something simple. And then he blew the candle out.

Specks of red wax dotted the cake's white frosting. Yeonjun cut it open with a butcher knife and served him a piece. It was vanilla cake, simple but effective, with a raspberry compote. White and red again. Soobin slid the plate between them.

The wavering candlelight cast amber shadows across the counter. He took a bite, sweetness seeping into his tongue, and watched Yeonjun do the same. The room smelled like smoke and pastry. It was disorienting.

He wanted to kiss Yeonjun. Taste the cake on his tongue instead of his own.

Instead, he swallowed, and tried not to think about how he might be in Hell.

But if Hell was just this -sitting with Yeonjun and sharing a dessert in the red glow of half-light- he might be able to endure it.

When the plate was empty, Yeonjun asked, "How was it?"

Soobin licked his lips, tasting the last crumbs of frosting. "Good."

A small smile graced Yeonjun's face, and he stood. "Good. I'm sorry I didn't get you a present. I couldn't think of anything you might like."

He blew out the candles one by one, left the plate in the sink, and padded down the hall to his room.

Ever his shadow, Soobin followed. "I didn't expect you to get me anything. I don't even know what I would ask for."

"You don't feel like you're missing something?"

Yeonjun leaned against the door once Soobin passed through it, closing it with his weight.

"I do," he admitted and sat on the bed.

"What's that?"

He leaned back, examining Yeonjun's stance, the poise and precision of his movements. The way his words always teetered on the edge of something more. "Nothing you could put in a box or dress up with giftwrap."

Soobin didn't know if he said the right thing. Yeonjun's gaze was always cautious as it was critical. But he melted away from the shelter of the door to come sit beside him.

The bed dipped under his weight.

There wasn't anything overtly sexual about it. They sat side by side, the dim lamp light casting pale shadows. Yeonjun had his head tilted curiously, eyes watchful. As if awaiting Soobin's next move while lining up an array of his own.

He just appeared...beautiful. In such a simple way. Apparently all it took was a white tank top and that look in his eyes to make Soobin certain he wanted him in that moment more than he'd ever wanted anything.

Soobin moved gently, but deliberately. He traced his fingers down Yeonjun's cheek, brushing his hair aside before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

It felt terrifyingly sacred. As if he'd just signed a binding contract.

Yeonjun's mouth parted in surprise for just a second before kissing him back.

His lips were as soft and inviting as Soobin remembered. It wasn't like when they swapped ice in the club, more tongue and desperation than anything else. He expected Yeonjun to take control like he did then, but instead found him yielding, as if more interested in what Soobin would do next. And so, Soobin held him more firmly, thumb braced against his cheekbone, fingers loosely toying with his silver earrings, and deepened their kiss. He wanted each heartbeat to be its own moment, forever engraved like a snapshot in Yeonjun's memory. He wanted to be one of the few permanent recollections he had.

Yeonjun rested his palms flat against Soobin's thighs, leaning into him, rings imprinting on his skin. He could feel the long cross that dangled from his neck brush against his shirt, swaying back and forth as they moved.

Heat began to coil in Soobin's chest, but he was cautious with it. He knew it would be so easy to get reigned into Yeonjun's seduction and surrender control. He didn't want to lose himself like that. But still he desired more.

He curled his fingers in Yeonjun's hair, guiding his head to the side while he placed a kiss first on the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, and down his throat. Short breaths fell against his ear as he took his time, teasing with his tongue then his mouth, before sucking a mark into his skin. Yeonjun grasped at his shirt, no longer satisfied with the leverage his thighs had to offer. He balled the fabric in his fists, pulling Soobin forward, more firmly against his own body, until he was pressing down on him and Yeonjun's head met the pillows.

Soobin lifted his head and Yeonjun's eyes blinked open, looking up at him with a darkened gaze.

"I'm not having sex with you," Soobin murmured. It felt empowering to say it, as if denying a succubus, and see Yeonjun's eyes narrow.

Still, he only breathed out, "Okay."

"Does that disappoint you?"

He wasn't sure what answer he wanted to hear. And it seemed as though they thought more similarly than Soobin knew. "I'm not sure," Yeonjun responded quietly, though his finger dipped beneath the collar of Soobin's shirt, dragging on his skin. It felt electric, pressed against the bones of his chest. Almost painful. "You confuse me."

"How?" Soobin's body cast a large shadow over Yeonjun's own, making his eyes seem brighter by comparison.

"I don't think you really like me. And I think that makes me want you more."

"So you wouldn't want me anymore, if I said I liked you?"

"I don't know. Try it."

Soobin searched his gaze, but like always, his secrets were cards held closely to his chest.

"I like you more than I ever thought I would. I know you want me, no matter what you say, and I don't know why. But I also know that I want you, and in a way where I feel like it's a drug."

Yeonjun looked pretty splayed across the mattress like that, listening to him, reaching up to tuck Soobin's hair behind his ear. "What do you mean?"

It was simple. "I feel like you would understand better than anyone. I shouldn't want you, but you have me addicted, and I keep coming back for more."

"Is it such a bad thing?" he asked softly.

"Is that how you justify it?"

A small wry smile touched Yeonjun's red lips. "Touché."

Soobin kissed him again, called to it by the shape and shimmer of his mouth, and Yeonjun was still receptive but calm. Soobin realized then that he was letting him figure out what he wanted. He was willing to offer his body up as a means for him to clear his head.

There was so much turmoil there.

The act felt strangely selfless. Nearly out of character for him. Either that, or Soobin once again might not have given him enough credit.

His fingers found the hem of Yeonjun's white tank top, acting of their own accord, before he caught himself. "Is it..." He had to start again. "Can I take it off?"

It wasn't like Yeonjun had never been shirtless in front of him before, and he didn't seem to care so much now. "Sure." He arched off the bed and raised his arms just enough for Soobin to pull his tank top up and over his head, the motion graceful and fluid like a cat. Soobin tossed the shirt aside, and the sight captured him.

He liked seeing him like this- always mesmerized. Yeonjun's body was gorgeous, equal parts jagged lines and soft curves. His tattoos dipped just out of sight beneath his waistband, and his layers of black and silver necklaces lay flat against his tan chest, chains caught by the sharp protrusion of his collar bones. His black hair just barely brushed his shoulders, and Soobin kissed there first, before moving his mouth along his clavicle, feeling cool metal against his lips. It bit and pinched and he tasted copper.

Yeonjun carded his fingers through Soobin's hair as he kissed down his chest, and the sensation sent chills down his back. He placed one kiss in the center of his chest, and experimentally rubbed over one of his brown nipples with his thumb. It was already hard, and he heard Yeonjun's breath hitch and felt his body tense. His grip on Soobin's hair tightened.

"You're sensitive there," Soobin observed more than asked. There was a fine balance he needed to strike between animalistic and clinical to keep himself present. To not run and hide. And for the first time, it felt like he could do that.

"A little," Yeonjun admitted breathlessly, underselling his own reaction.

Willing to test this understatement, Soobin licked his thumb before once again massaging circles over the nub, feeling Yeonjun become more and more tightly wound, knees pressed together. He dipped his head and replaced his thumb with his tongue, laving over his nipple with broad strokes before narrowing his focus, circling it and then sucking. This time, a little sound escaped Yeonjun and he yanked Soobin's hair, knees coming up to his chest as if to fight him off.

Soobin firmly pushed them back down and intensified his ministrations, using his tongue and even his teeth until Yeonjun was audibly panting. He lifted his head and saw Yeonjun laying there, eyes shut and breathing rapidly. When he thought he sensed mercy, his grip on Soobin's hair loosened, only to curl back tightly when he began on his other nipple.

"O-okay, enough," Yeonjun tried, voice breaking partway through and diminishing any power he might have been attempting to command.

Soobin once again lifted his head and asked, "Too much for you?"

That sparked his competitive spirit. "N-no." Still, his words were shaky. "I just...I'm not used to this."

"Used to what?" Sometimes, Soobin genuinely was oblivious, and sometimes he enjoyed making Yeonjun spell it out.

"Just laying here and..."

Soobin tilted his head. "And what?"

To his surprise, Yeonjun's cheeks turned pink as he muttered, "and taking it."

Nervous that he'd done something wrong but not wanting to show it, he tried, "I want you to tell me when you don't like something."

"I never said I didn't like it. I just said I wasn't used to it. What's your deal, anyway?" It could have been a rude question, but Yeonjun asked it softly, cupping his cheek.

"What do you mean?" Involuntarily, he leaned into Yeonjun's touch, breathing in his sweet scent.

"I've never seen you so...well, I'm trying to think of a better word, but the only one I can come up with is confident. In control, maybe?"

"Oh." That wasn't as difficult of a question as he thought. His mind had only stewed in it endlessly. "You make me lose control of myself. I don't like that. So, in order to keep it from happening, I'm just not giving up power. You're too easy to surrender to. Which means I need to practice."

Yeonjun laughed lightly. "You make me sound like some sort of sex demon."

Quite seriously, Soobin murmured, "Sometimes I genuinely think you are."

"And you haven't even had sex with me yet," Yeonjun mused, probably imagining all the ways he would have Soobin wrapped around his finger if that ever were to happen.

"Bold of you to assume I will, ever."

Yeonjun raised his eyebrows. "Based on the way you're worshipping my body, it's only a matter of time. Weren't you the one just comparing yourself to an addict?"

For once, Soobin felt slightly mollified. "Touché," he replied, echoing Yeonjun's sentiment from earlier.

"I can't wait to destroy you when the time comes," Yeonjun murmured, relishing the thought. He laid back, lounging and reveling in whatever picture his mind painted.

Soobin sat on his knees, remarking, "That sounds violent."

They clearly had two very different ideas of what the time might look like if it came. For Soobin, he imagined fucking Yeonjun deep and slow right here, in his bed. Maybe after a show, talking lazily until Yeonjun sobered up enough to tell Soobin what he wanted, raw and unfiltered. At a time exactly like this one. It would be quiet, save for Yeonjun's own voice. The lamp light would stay on, and Soobin would press him into the mattress until their bodies melded into one. And when they were done, they could collapse right there until the sun roused them from their grave.

But based on the glimmer in Yeonjun's eyes, he was imagining a different scene entirely.

"There's a lounge at one of the venues we regularly play. At The Pearl, actually, you know it. The lounge is private, VIP only. It's got these gothic rugs, a real fireplace, and unlimited whiskey. You can feel the bass in there from whatever band is on at the time, like the music is in the walls." Yeonjun once again brushed Soobin's bangs out of his face, still speaking softly. "You're going to fuck me there."

Curious enough to indulge his fantasy, Soobin asked, "Why there?"

He shrugged. "I like the energy. And I've never really gotten to exploit those VIP perks."

"Well, I'm going to fuck you here, first." Yeonjun was so shocked by his statement that he didn't even retort. And Soobin kept going, because now he had committed. "Because I know whatever you have in mind is wicked, and hot, sure, but that's not how I want you the first time. I want you like this. Sober and honest, and in your own bed."

A beat passed where they underwent a brief power play only through electric eye contact. And then, "That's how you want me?" Yeonjun repeated, breathless.

To his deep and primal satisfaction, it seemed like Soobin had won.

"Mhm," he hummed, leaning down to nose at the sensitive spot between his jaw and ear.

"Why?" It was a whisper of a question, but Soobin knew his answer mattered perhaps more than anything else he'd said tonight.

He placed a soft kiss on that spot on his neck, and murmured, "Because that's how I know you best."

"Oh." Yeonjun's fingers curled in the hair at Soobin's nape, but didn't clutch so desperately this time. As if realizing he wasn't about to slip right through them. With his grip finally loosened, Soobin sat up straight, pulling his own shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Surprised, Yeonjun reached out to touch him, saying, "I thought you said you weren't..."

He thought he would feel more vulnerable, bare in front of Yeonjun like this again, but instead he felt unfamiliarly comfortable. Like there was nothing new or remarkable about it at all, and he could be like this with Yeonjun on any given day and feel the same way. It felt warm. "Am I allowed to change my mind?"

"After all that attitude?"

Soobin nodded, and brushed his nose against Yeonjun's cheek, murmuring, "I'm sorry."

"Mm, maybe do a little more of that and I'll forgive you," he purred. There he went again, sparking a fire within Soobin that made him want to surrender everything to Yeonjun. It was as if a switch flipped in him. The moment his body reacted to Yeonjun he lost control.

In desperation, he bit down on his neck and ran his hands down his body, palming his dick through his sweatpants for only a few seconds before hooking his fingers in the waistband and tugging. Yeonjun arched into his touch, raising his hips so they came off with ease.

It was like being immersed in one of his most depraved private fantasies.

He wore nothing underneath, his tattoos first curling inward on the slope of his v-line and then out around his hip bones before tapering off. Soobin traced them with his thumbs, holding Yeonjun's hips firmly against the mattress as he leaned down and placed another kiss between the lines of ink on his body.

"You're so pretty," he breathed, finally brave enough to say the words that always sat perched upon his lips. "Like an angel."

To his surprise, Yeonjun didn't tease him. Instead, a small sound escaped him and when he looked up, he saw Yeonjun's cheeks were pink, and he couldn't meet his gaze. Almost as if what Soobin had said made him shy.

"I'm sure you've heard that before," he said softly, touching him intimately for the first time. Touching any man intimately for the first time besides himself. It was familiar. But he understood now why Yeonjun had made such a big deal about his own endowment. The thought brought a smile to his lips. They were certainly...different. He didn't think it was anything to be embarrassed about, though. He found it sort of cute. Just like his cheeks, he was pretty and pink, and fit perfectly in the palm of Soobin's hand. He stroked him gently, and watched as Yeonjun squirmed a little.

"I- I haven't," he replied, still looking up at the ceiling instead of at him.

"Everyone tells you how pretty you are," Soobin disagreed, placing another kiss on the flat plane of his stomach.

"Not...the way you do," Yeonjun admitted, and his eyes had drifted shut.

Soobin felt himself grow more comfortable the longer he sat between his legs. It was as if something vital had shifted the moment he saw his effect over Yeonjun, and finally knew for certain that this wasn't all an elaborate delusion in his head. "What do I do differently?"

Yeonjun's hips twitched, as if he thought about chasing the sensation of Soobin's hand, before relaxing again. "You...sound like you mean it," he once again confessed in a small voice, arm over his eyes now, and he looked beautiful, coy in a way Soobin had never seen. Usually, he was intense and hypnotic like wildfire, burning with a desire to keep siphoning fuel and run Soobin dry. But tonight...he compelled him in a different way.

"You know, I expected..." Soobin hesitated, then shook his head. Saying his thoughts out loud would kill the mood.

But Yeonjun never let him get off so easily, and he propped himself back up on his elbows, taking the chance to catch his breath. "What?"

"Don't let me ruin it," he practically pleaded. His mouth always had a habit of fucking things up for him.

"You're not going to ruin it." He spoke gently. Maybe the moment wasn't so fragile. They had shared enough to make time and space malleable.

"I guess I just..." Soobin absentmindedly ran his fingers down Yeonjun's soft pale thigh, releasing him for a moment in favor of grounding himself, and felt him tremble slightly underneath. "I thought you'd be more...intense."

A small smile played at Yeonjun's full red lips, the bashful pink slowly fading as he felt assured once again in his power, and he said, "Soobin-ah, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure this is your first time doing this."

"That's...true," he admitted reluctantly. Not like it was much of a secret, and a few months ago, he wouldn't have been embarrassed about it at all. He was waiting for marriage, just like everyone else. Or so he thought back then.

"So I'm not going to hold you to whatever expectations you think I have. Maybe I'm a little bit of a freak, but I don't need to be like that all the time. I'd rather have vanilla sex with you and have you actually enjoy it. You don't even know what you're into. I like the thought of helping you find out. And...I like this."

Oddly touched by his thoughtfulness, Soobin stretched up and kissed his cheek. "I think the world has the wrong impression of you," he murmured.

"I don't want you to look at me like they do. I don't care about what the world thinks. But I do care about...what you think."

Soobin swallowed, not sure what to do with his sentimentality. With time, hopefully he could figure out how to meet him halfway. Instead, he moved his lips down the column of his neck, kissing his throat again and saying, "Teach me how to do it right. I want to do it properly. I want you to feel good."

"You really want...?" The unspoken question lingered between them, heavy with the shared knowledge that this would take them farther than anything they had done before.

"I do," Soobin answered simply, and he hoped Yeonjun understood that he meant it.

Yeonjun's fingers found his hair and he spoke softly in his ear, "Okay. You have to open me up first. Here," he said, languidly rolling onto his stomach. "It's easier this way. And you don't have to look at me and get all embarrassed."

"There's nothing embarrassing about doing this with you," he murmured, though his breathing drew in shortly through his nose, and for the first time, he let his gaze wander the full length of Yeonjun's naked back.

Once again, that tattoo of his spine drew the eye, line-work sharp and impossibly black. Soobin let his fingers run down it, enjoying the way Yeonjun shivered under his touch. Curious, he brushed his hair aside to find the end of the tattoo, only to discover that it tapered off just before his neck, separated along the bone by three unfamiliar symbols, like sigils, in an arch formation. And when Soobin threaded his fingers even tighter through his hair, he revealed a thin black cross above the symbols that disappeared into his hairline.

"What do these mean?" he asked, brushing along the unfamiliar ink. It felt strangely textured compared to his other tattoos, like it had been drawn using a different method. Yeonjun shuddered when he dragged his thumb across them.

"They're...nonsense," he answered.

"You don't want to tell me?"

"I don't know what they mean. I don't remember getting them."

Soobin frowned. "That's not good," he said, then leaned down to kiss the spot where the different lines of ink met.

Yeonjun gasped, body rippling, and it was such an intense reaction, Soobin immediately lifted his head back up.

"Is it sensitive? Does it hurt?"

"It...ah, I don't know." He was panting. "It's sensitive," he eventually settled on, and though his response only made him more curious, he decided to let it be.

"Then I won't touch," he said softly, instead rubbing his hands down Yeonjun's sides, and finally, he allowed himself the privilege of touching where he always tried to look away from. It was sort of funny to him, because Yeonjun swore his ass wasn't anything to write home about, and he had just belittled the thought of men who chased after him for exactly that reason. It was an abusive cycle of self-deprecation, but Soobin couldn't understan why Yeonjun thought he was lacking. His skin was soft and surprisingly supple, giving when he squeezed and filling out his hands. "You're pretty here, too," he told him, kissing the small of his back.

"You're just saying that," Yeonjun murmured, holding a pillow under his chest. He sounded uncharacteristically self-conscious.

"No, I mean it," he assured him, lining their bodies up for a moment. "Can you feel that?"

Yeonjun rocked back against the pressure from Soobin's hard cock pressing into him through his sweatpants, and made another sweet sound. The sensation blinded him for a second, and he grinded against his body while holding his hips up, getting lost in the friction.

"Bin-ah," he whined. "Put your fingers in me."

"I want to put my dick in you," he complained, still rutting against his ass.

"Well, you can't start there." Something landed on the bed next to him with a thump, and Soobin reluctantly took his hands off his hips to retrieve the bottle of what he realized was lubricant.

Suddenly, what they were doing became very real. It had been real before, but Soobin felt a sudden rush of anxiety. He didn't want to screw this up. But he didn't know what he was doing.

He glanced instinctively at Yeonjun only to find him loosely holding his pillow, head resting on his arms, looking back at him.

"You want me to tell you how to do it?"

The question was soft- Soobin knew Yeonjun could be mean, but he spoke to him so delicately now. Soobin swallowed, then nodded.

"Start with just one." Then, "...Please."

Trying not to get lost in the sight of Yeonjun with his fluffy hair falling in his eyes and silver gleaming around his throat, he exhaled and nodded again. "I can do that." He kept his voice low, faking a certain bravado that bolstered his confidence. Always thinking practically, he slicked his fingers up over the curve of Yeonjun's ass so the excess could drip onto his skin.

Bottle set aside, Soobin gripped him with his clean hand, massaging the soft skin between his fingers, feeling the fullness against his palm. In playing with him like this, he could spread Yeonjun open, and see where he was still pretty and pink and waiting.

He thought he would come to more of a mental hurdle. Instead, it felt right when he pressed his slick finger against his hole, massaged it until he could see the wetness reflect the low light, and felt it give way, welcoming him inside.

Only up to a knuckle. He moved carefully. Yeonjun was warm, and when Soobin brushed the pad of his finger against his inner walls, a small sound escaped Yeonjun's lips and his hips twitched. He continued to hold his body, running his hand up and down his left side. It was big enough to splay across the majority of Yeonjun's back. Even with one finger inside of him, the rest could reach his dick, teasing and getting him wet there, too.

"You can do another," Yeonjun breathed, hips twitching again as if to entice him.

Soobin listened, tracing from his tailbone to his perineum, then back again with the finger he eventually pressed in alongside the other. Now he was tight, fuller than before. On instinct, he pumped both fingers in and out, and Yeonjun moaned.

Terrified, he stopped and asked, "Does it hurt?"

A little laugh escaped Yeonjun, and then he inhaled sharply. "N-no, Soobin-ah. It's good."

"Should I keep going?"

"Yes." Yeonjun's eyes fluttered and his body spasmed, seeking the pressure from Soobin's fingers.

He wanted to serve his depravity, and so he curled his fingers, moving them back and forth within him, and Yeonjun rocked with the gentle rhythm.

Soobin couldn't imagine what it must feel like. All he knew was the heat within himself, a lucid immolation of the beliefs he had worn so proudly, now dismantled and bare in front of his deity.

He could have gone on like this, pleasuring him into the sheets, watching Yeonjun fall apart by his own hand, until the sun rose and the warmth of amber nighttime abandoned them completely. He was completely mesmerized by the way Yeonjun clung to his pillow and arched his back, uncharacteristically desperate for what Soobin dealt.

Finally, he seemed to reach his breaking point, stammering for him to stop, please, stop, it's too much.

The words echoed in Soobin's head for a moment before he remembered to listen, and he dragged his fingers out slowly. Yeonjun shuddered and rolled onto his back.

For a moment, they just locked eyes. Despite the position they were in, what they had done, and the words spoken between them, Soobin felt like a prey animal. Intended to serve a higher power. Promised to a much more powerful and compelling creature.

And with the touch of his divine hand, Yeonjun reached towards him, pulling his sweats down with fluid precision to show him what he needed.

A handful of weeks ago, Soobin had been embarrassed by Yeonjun's touch, his flattering, the thought of his eyes on his naked human form. But now he sort of thought they were always meant to end up this way. It was all that occupied his mind. That and the sight of his erection in the same frame as Yeonjun's beautiful body. Two erotic visions aligned in one perfect moment.

Soobin touched himself with the same hand that had been inside Yeonjun. And Yeonjun did his part as a good performer, licking the tips of his fingers to toy with one of his hard nipples, as he lifted his silver cross to his lips and held it between his teeth. Putting on enough of a show to have Soobin panicking for just a second- he felt himself twitch in his hand and squeezed, cutting off the reaction..

Looking down at the sight of Yeonjun on the sheets, he realized they were all only bodies. Crafted in the sands by the will and hands of God to be exactly what He intended. He made Yeonjun this agile seductive being of pale skin, silver metal, and black ink. He made Soobin with all the edges to fit their pieces together, to paint the blush upon Yeonjun's cheeks and down his body. To blossom color between both their canvases.

Or maybe He had done everything within His power to keep them apart. And by doing this, they betrayed His will in favor of another's.

For his entirety, Soobin felt like there would be nothing worth betraying God for. But this sensation, the consumption of his hunger for Yeonjun, desire for his attention and for his body, finally ignited in promise of satiety...he might have finally found a savior outside of church.

It wasn't a betrayal. It was an extension of his faith. As Soobin penetrated him, he could only think that Yeonjun might have been God all along. The altar of his prayers spread beneath him to receive worship, legs open to welcome proof of his devotion. They locked behind Soobin's back, drawing him deeper into his body. Yeonjun's eyes were closed, a hand clasped over Soobin's where he held him by the waist.

It would be too romantic to interlock their fingers. Instead, he dug them into his skin, gripping tightly so as to not be overcome by the tightness and warmth compelling him forward.

Carefully, he rocked his hips, pulling out slightly before sliding back in. A sound slipped from Yeonjun's lips, a delicate moan that called him even more than his siren songs. Soobin did it again, and he rewarded him with a reprise.

"What feels best for you? Do you like it like this?" Maybe it was a stupid virgin question but Yeonjun seemed to like hearing it, wearing a pretty smile even as his lips parted for air.

"This is okay," he murmured, eyes still closed. "All of it's okay with me. Do what you want."

His words were pulled straight from temptation, as if the sin spoke from his lips. He opened Soobin's world and offered him the sweetest fruits in the finest paradise. His words made him feel like it was all his for the taking.

He moved within him, slow and deep. Yeonjun's cheeks were flushed, hair splayed out on the pillows. One hand clutched the sheets and the other held Soobin close.

"Does it hurt?" he heard himself ask again, trying not to completely surrender to the bliss settling around him. He wanted to stay present, mindful of Yeonjun not just in the way his body made him feel, but in the connection of his bared spirit.

Yeonjun shook his head. His lips were parted, and it took him a second to speak without mumbling. "...told you. It's good."

From there, he lost the ability to spin poetry. The words evaded him, though Yeonjun was worth every one. Instead, he focused on fucking him as well as he could, gripping his hips, his thighs. Leaning down to kiss him even when it was more of a feral desperate crash of lips and teeth. Yeonjun was good. Sweet, receptive. Encouraging. Between his whines and quiet moans, he would lean up to whisper praise in Soobin's ear, taking the soft flesh between his teeth and grinding their bodies together. The feeling left him dizzy, his only purpose to chase the high that brought them ever closer.

He was hot, near the point of burning up. Yeonjun's pretty pink cock kept hitting his stomach with every thrust of Soobin's, leaving slick trails on his soft skin. Soobin wished he could draw this out as long as possible, stay wrapped in this moment of bliss forever, but his body would betray him. So, he wrapped his hand around Yeonjun's dick and pumped it in rhythm with his own movements, watching the pleasure take over his face. He cried out, tensed, and then came around Soobin's cock. It was enough to drive him over the edge and Soobin pulled out as quickly as he could, strings of his come joining Yeonjun's own in the mess on his stomach.

They were both breathing heavily, momentarily captivated by the consequences of their actions. Then, Yeonjun's gaze flicked up to meet Soobin's, and he resisted the urge to drop in submission. His pupils were blown, the look he gave him hazy. Soobin thought of a hundred different things to say. None of them seemed good enough to cut the tension.

What eventually released them was a sigh from Yeonjun. His eyes had fallen shut again, arm thrown over them to block out the light. "That was nice," he murmured.

Could their next words really be that simple?

"Yeah...?" He heard the question in his own voice.

"Mhm. I haven't been fucked like that in a long time."

Soobin found that hard to believe. "I've got to be the least experienced partner you've ever had."

"Sure," Yeonjun agreed, momentarily deflating his ego. "But you might be the only one that's ever actually liked me."

His ego reinflated like a party balloon. He wasn't about to argue. He had met at least one of Yeonjun's previous partners. "Does it make that much of a difference?"

"You know..." Yeonjun contemplated it for a minute, then sighed again, "...I think it does." He started to sit up, but Soobin shooed him back down.

"Hang on, I'll get something to clean you up with."

Trying not to look like a newborn deer staggering away on unsteady limbs, he got up as gracefully as possible. Inside Yeonjun's bathroom, he found a clean towel and ran it under warm water before bringing it back to him. Yeonjun had propped himself up on his elbows and looked mildly impressed when Soobin began to clean him up. Maybe he was a little too doting about it. Too careful. He treated Yeonjun like something precious, taking his time to soothe what must be an awful ache between his legs.

"What a nice guy," Yeonjun even mumbled, taking the washcloth from him to gently clean the slick stuff from Soobin.

"Shower?" Soobin suggested.

Yeonjun scrunched his nose. "That would be the responsible thing to do. You go first."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm." Yeonjun had already curled up with his eyes closed. "I'll wait here."

The cue was clear, so Soobin gave him space, heading for the spare bathroom down the hall. It looked clean again. Everything worked. Maybe that one night had just been a bad dream. He chased the thought away and moved quickly. He didn't plan on taking his time. He wanted to be curled up in bed, too. He rinsed off, scrubbing himself clean, and when he stepped out of the shower, steam had barely begun to fog up the broken mirror. He shook his hair out and toweled it dry as best as he could before wrapping the towel around his waist and returning to Yeonjun's room.

Inside, he found the bed empty and a stack of clothes set out for him at its foot. The door to Yeonjun's bathroom was shut, and he could hear the water running inside. He must have mustered up the energy, after all. Soobin slipped on the t-shirt and sweatpants, throwing his towel over his shoulder. The thought crossed his mind that he should probably put it in the wash, so he stepped into the hall again.

For the first time, Soobin noticed the door at the end of the hall that he always thought was a closet. It stood slightly ajar, pale yellow light and shadows spilling through the crack. He could have sworn it wasn't like that a few minutes ago. And Yeonjun couldn't have opened it, he was in the shower.

Curious, he dropped his towel on the washing machine and crossed the hall, opening the door wider.

A narrow winding staircase revealed itself on the other side, descending into what looked like an unfinished basement. The struts and stone foundation were exposed, walls lacking insulation. Uncovered wiring connected to the overhead light, which was missing a cover. Just the bulb flickered in its socket, threatening to go out every few seconds.

Soobin found himself going down the stairs, dusting kicking up as he went, following the tracks of someone who had descended before. There was no railing tethering him to the wall, and so he stepped carefully, unsupported wooden boards creaking under his weight.

The light didn't reach the bottom. It would have been doused in total darkness if not for the wavering light under the stairs. Following it led him into an empty, unfinished room.

It was cold. Concrete and winter made the basement feel uninhabitable. Soobin wrapped his arms around himself, teeth threatening to chatter as he got a good look at what lay beyond the open doorway.

He thought he would find storage. Or maybe even a fetish room. He could have accepted that.

But inside the room, he found neither.

It was lit by five candles. They cast the wavering red light that tempted him from the safety of the stairs. And it looked as though they had been burning for a long time, red wax dripping down their pillars, over their votives, forming pools on the ground. Illuminating the white drawing on the concrete, an uncannily precise pentagram for chalk. The candles had been placed on each point, connected by a ring of symbols. At first, they were unfamiliar. But when Soobin focused, he realized they were Latin scripture. Outside the scripture, another ring of foreign runes had been scratched into the ground.

In the center of the pentagram, deep angry black lines had been carved. Not just drawn in chalk like everything else, but gouged into the stone.

His heart began to pound in his chest, spurred on by the energy that hung over the place, the malice and persistent cold.

There was nothing else in the room. In fact, the entire basement lay barren, except for that horrific setup.

He practically jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Yeonjun didn't say anything, just grabbed his hand and dragged him back upstairs. Once they were there, Yeonjun shut the door and locked it firmly behind him.

"What were you doing in there?" he asked, sounding only a little annoyed.

Wide-eyed, Soobin said, "I- it was open. Why do you have...that?"

Yeonjun just looked at him strangely. His hair was still wet, tucked behind his ears in black clumps. "What? A basement?"

Confusion washed over him. Had they seen the same thing? "The- the candles and- and the drawings..."

Eyes narrowed, Yeonjun pressed a hand to Soobin's forehead as if checking for fever. "There's nothing down there. Never has been, it's not finished. Are you feeling okay?"

It was only when Yeonjun gently held his hand that he realized they were shaking.

"There was something, though," he insisted, pulling Yeonjun back towards the door. "Can we go look together?"

Looking as though he genuinely reserved concern for his sanity, Yeonjun still gave him the benefit of the doubt and nodded. "Sure, if that would make you feel better."

And so, he reopened the door, that flickering light flashing his face between Nephilim and the fallen, and carefully led Soobin back downstairs. He knew his hand was clammy from fear but Yeonjun held on anyway, and when they reached the bottom, Soobin gripped tightly.

It wasn't as cold as he remembered. Even a difference of five minutes had lifted the unnatural chill, and now it just felt drafty. Yeonjun stepped into the room under the stairs. It lay pitch black. No wavering candlelight. But he flicked on an exposed switch, and another uncovered overhead bulb trembled to life.

The room was as empty as Yeonjun promised. Pale concrete and wood skeleton walls. No symbols drawn on the floor. No gouges in the stone. Just sheetrock and struts.

When Yeonjun glanced back at him to confirm they both saw the same thing, Soobin knew his panic must've been reflected in his eyes.

Instead of calling him crazy, Yeonjun just looked sympathetic and said, "Something really fucked you up, huh?"

Soobin shook his head. His delusion was starting to look pathetic. "I haven't been sleeping great. Sorry."

"No worries." Yeonjun placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and started herding him back upstairs. "I'd recommend whiskey, but for you, I think I have some chamomile tea."

Once upstairs, Yeonjun turned out the basement lights and it didn't go unnoticed by Soobin when he locked the door behind him. They were quiet for a while after that, Yeonjun fixing them drinks and Soobin attempting to rationalize on the couch.

The only obvious answer being that he hallucinated. Which he had never done before in his life -except for that one time with the bathroom- and had no reason to now. He didn't drink. He didn't do drugs. The only thing that rapidly changed in the last hour was...well, having sex with Yeonjun. Which, according to the word of his congregation -not necessarily the word of God- was a sin. He had always told himself that if he ended up giving in to his desires and sleeping with a man, God would protect him. The Bible did not condemn his actions, no matter what certain pastors liked to preach.

And yet he sat there, faced with the possibility that he had committed a sin, and God would not keep him safe from the Devil.

"Still freaked out?" Yeonjun asked, bringing Soobin back to reality as he set a mug in front him. He could only stare for a moment, trying to possibly explain what was going through his mind. "You look like a deer in headlights. I can leave it alone."

That prompted him to act like a person again. He shook his head. "No, it's okay. Just...yeah, super weird. I don't know why it freaked me out so much."

Yeonjun pursed his lips, very clearly deciding whether he should keep his thoughts to himself or not. He took a sip from his tumbler of neat whiskey. "Not to be that person..."

"Oh boy," Soobin already said in anticipation.

"But," Yeonjun pressed. "It might be...well, like a religious guilt thing. You think you just committed a sin. And so your mind is punishing you with fear."

"I never said that I thought-" he started protesting.

"Soobin-ah, I've known you nearly my whole life. I know how your mind works. I'm not suggesting you didn't enjoy it, but I'm also not stupid enough to think my ass is the cure for decades of internalized homophobia."

"Wow."

"What?"

"The sentences you say. They're so upsetting, but so captivating."

Yeonjun tilted his head. "Why upsetting?"

"Because sometimes I like to pretend that I've grown from the kid you knew."

Frowning, Yeonjun took another sip of his whiskey before saying, "You've grown plenty. That doesn't mean you're infallible in the face of perpetual brainwashing and religious affirmation."

"You're really not a fan anymore, huh?"

"A fan?" Yeonjun smiled at his wording. "Oh, I'm God's biggest fan. Absolutely love that guy. His work is great, true craftsmanship. If I get a tramp stamp, it'll read 'serendipity.' But I'm not so keen on the preachy fearmongering and bigotry. If you hadn't noticed."

"I noticed," he confirmed. "I'm not really a fan either. But...I don't think I consciously thought about it until you started deviating from the church."

He shrugged. "Sometimes it takes someone breaking out of the cycle to make you question what's real and what you value. Not that I think of myself as some sort of example. Just...our congregation is really insular. So the likelihood of that happening was practically zero. I kept waiting for someone's lead I could follow. But, by the time I turned twenty, it still hadn't come. And I couldn't wait anymore. Besides, it's not like anything's changed in their eyes. I still go to church. I just worship differently than before." Then, he shook his head. "I'm not trying to talk about myself. Sorry."

Soobin used to think him self-centered, but the more time they spent together, the more he realized they worked well like this. He wasn't much of a talker himself. But hearing Yeonjun spill everything out motivated him to share as well. Yeonjun probably thought Soobin never got a chance to speak at all, but he was more honest and open with him than anyone else in his life.

"It's okay," he said softly. "Listening to you talk calms me down. Unless you're doing that thing where you're trying to get in my head and mess me up. But right now, it's nice."

With a smile, Yeonjun took another drink. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've never done anything like that."

"Yeah, right." Finally, Soobin sipped his tea, the warm floral taste comforting. It reminded him of coming home after his academies. His mom always used to make him tea to help him relax and get ready for bed. And when Yeonjun reached for him, brushing the hair back from his forehead and kissing the exposed skin softly, the same wave of nostalgia washed over him. Just as warm and comforting. "I'm sorry."

Yeonjun's smile slipped into a frown. "Why's that?"

"I'm probably the first guy to hallucinate demonic rituals after sleeping with you."

Instead of agreeing, Yeonjun said, "Stop comparing yourself to others. It's fine, Bin-ah. I'm sorry my ass is so good it caused you to hallucinate."

"That's a ridiculous apology."

"Exactly my point." Yeonjun plucked the empty mug from his hands and set it down, saying, "Come on." He coaxed Soobin to his feet, and back down the hall.

He stalled for a second, digging his heels in. He didn't want to go back towards the basement.

But Yeonjun braced his hand against the small of his back and murmured, "Let's go to bed."

Last time, Yeonjun had offered his bed to him, and Soobin declined. Apparently, he was making the decision for him this time.

Strangely, Soobin didn't mind so much. Yeonjun's touch eased his hypervigilance. It felt like he protected him from whatever malignant energy kept threatening to breach his peace of mind. They returned to Yeonjun's room, where the sheets were still messed up and the light was still low. But now it smelled like Yeonjun's hair, sweet floral steam wafting from the cracked ensuite door.

Yeonjun took a moment to fix the bed, fishing a switchblade out from under a pillow and setting it on the bedside table. Apparently, Soobin had been closer to losing his dick than he knew.

"I'll keep you safe from the monsters," Yeonjun promised teasingly as they got under the sheets together. They were soft, slick black silk that felt cool against his clean skin.

"What's in it for you?" he asked, turning to face him as he flicked the lamp off.

"Ten inches," came Yeonjun's matter-of-fact reply.

Soobin couldn't help but laugh, curling closer to him as he settled onto the opposite pillow. "That's a really lopsided deal."

"In more ways than one," Yeonjun agreed, earning another chuckle. "But I'll keep my end if you can manage to hold up yours."

"I don't think I'll have any difficulty there."

"Good." With one last kiss placed on his forehead, he murmured, "Goodnight, Bin-ah."

It was the most special that one mundane phrase had ever felt.

"Night," he replied softly, and let his arm rest loosely over Yeonjun's shoulder. He might be the one tasked with protecting him, but Soobin wanted to hold Yeonjun nonetheless. For him, he might even learn how to fight off demons.

It was a silly thought. But for the first time since he had stayed there, the shadows felt just a little less threatening.