Kyungsoo’s fingers trace patterns along the neck of his guitar, calloused fingertips running along smooth wood. It’s a typical Friday night at Azure, the cafe Kyungsoo usually plays at - there are people at almost every table, greeting friends after a tiring day at work, embracing the weekend that has finally fallen upon them. The lights overhead bathe the entire scene in a gentle yellow glow, and the music that floats out of the sound system is soft, doesn’t demand attention in between conversations.

‘Hey,’ greets Jongdae, a smile ready on his lips. ‘Can I get you anything?’ he asks, and Kyungsoo gives him a half-smile in return.

‘I don’t know,’ he begins, shooting a knowing look at his companion. ‘Can you?’ It’s no secret between them that Jongdae slips Kyungsoo the occasional drink “on the house”, with the condition that he is to accept without question, and offer the most natural and innocent smiles to the cafe owner whenever he walks by. Jongdae doesn’t have the authority to slap the “free” label on things, but a couple of drinks here and there haven’t hurt him so far.

‘Yeah, why not?’ returns Jongdae, nodding after what seems like little to no thought at all. ‘Mr Park isn’t in yet, can’t see why I can’t give our regular performer something to warm his vocal cords up with,’ he says, sliding a tone of sneakiness into his last few words. Kyungsoo grins back, and Jongdae shuffles off to get him his drink.

Kyungsoo’s attention drops back to his guitar, fingers stretching and pressing down on strings, other hand swaying in a strumming pattern that doesn’t make a sound. It’s not that he’s nervous, far from it - he’s been playing here for years, performing in front of people for far longer, but tonight he was going to play a song he’d never done before, and it was beginning to gnaw on his confidence. The song itself wasn’t too much of a challenge - the chord progressions were standard ones he’s used to doing, maybe the strumming was a little tougher than what he was used to - but when it came to performing something new, Kyungsoo always got a case of the jitters.

His fingers fumble.

He shakes his head, curses under his breath and tries again.

‘Trying something new?’ Jongdae ventures, returning with a drink in his hand. He sets it down on the table next to Kyungsoo, settles himself in the chair across from him. He rests his chin in his hands, elbows on the table, and tilts his head. ‘I’ve never seen you slip up before.’

‘Yeah,’ murmurs Kyungsoo, successfully tackling the chord change with the right strumming pattern. ‘I’m gonna end tonight with a Panic! song.’

‘A panic song?’ asks Jongdae, brows furrowing. Behind him a fresh wave of people enter the cafe, and usually he’d rush over to offer them a table, but he doesn’t move. Kyungsoo’s eyes flit to the door, a smirk forming on his lips as Sehun practically trips himself up trying to serve the new crowd.

‘Not a panic song, idiot. A Panic! song. You know, like Panic! At The Disco?’ He gives Jongdae a meaningful look, but the elder only frowns at him a little more until the realisation hits him, and recognition dawns on his face like the sun on a morning horizon.

‘Oh, right,’ he says, nodding.

‘Yeah.’

More and more people begin to file in, and Kyungsoo’s curiosity peaks. It’s not that Azure doesn’t attract its fair share of people, it’s just that - well, it’s Friday night, people are usually wont to be at a club or something right about now. Instead the place is close to packed, and Kyungsoo’s eyes begin scanning the room for answers.

‘Hey, Jongdae?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Why’re there so many people in here tonight?’

‘What, you getting stage fright?’ mocks Jongdae, smiling at his friend. A quick look from Kyungsoo tells him that this isn’t the case, and he tosses his head back to let out a laugh. ‘I can’t believe you don’t know, Kyungsoo - come on, are you serious? It’s the 22nd of May. You know - Radar’s stopover?’

The hairs on the back of Kyungsoo’s neck bristle, his back suddenly makes him sit up straighter. He can’t have heard Jongdae right - could he?

‘What - whose stopover?’ he asks, struggling to catch the right words on his tongue. His heart is already beating nineteen to the dozen where it sits in his chest, and he has to grip his guitar to make sure his hands don’t shake.

He can’t have.

Jongdae’s expression goes from easy to weirded out, but he answers Kyungsoo nonetheless. ‘Radar,’ he repeats, slower this time. ‘You know, the band with that Corrupting whatever song. You must’ve heard of them, they’ve been playing that song nonstop on the radio,’

‘Corruption Interruption,’ mumbles Kyungsoo, feeling like he’s been dipped in ice. It feels as though frost has begun to seep underneath his skin, as though the ground he was standing on had turned to ice, and it was beginning to crack.

Radar.

‘Yeah, that one,’ says Jongdae, narrowing his eyes at Kyungsoo. ‘Well anyway, they’re on tour now, and tonight was a special homecoming show. Apparently the drummer and the bassist were both from around here, so like - hey, are you okay?’

The drummer.

‘Um - yeah, I just - no offence, but why are they coming here of all places?’ asks Kyungsoo, trying to feign nonchalance, trying to ease himself back into his previous demeanour. It’s difficult, though, when his mind is spinning with memory upon memory of a time many years ago, now - happy ones, sad ones, laughter and screams all meshed together in his head, fighting to be noticed.

‘Mr Park is the bassist’s uncle,’ says Jongdae, still looking at Kyungsoo with concern. Still more people are filing in in the background, and Kyungsoo can see, out of the corner of his eye, a flustered Sehun and Junmyeon having to turn away crowds of people, groans of disappointment filling the air. ‘So he offered the place up for them to chill after the show - that must be them!’

Kyungsoo sees as Jongdae’s attention shifts from the man in front of him to where all the screaming is directed at, and his own eyes fall on the cafe’s main entrance.

It takes him a while.

There are people applauding, arms and heads blocking a substantial part of his view, crowding the people who are just coming in - but when Kyungsoo sees them, when he sees him - just the barest glimpse of the man he’d once fallen in love with is enough to send him reeling.

The forever he’d lost sight of years ago is back, albeit as a ghost shrouded in screams of a different time.

As if acting of its own accord, his body straightens up, gets him to his feet. ‘Hey - where are you go - ’ Jongdae begins to ask, but he doesn’t get far enough as to finish his question because Kyungsoo’s moving, and moving fast, his guitar falling to the ground with a resounding twang and thump, tips over a couple of chairs and bumps into tables in his rush to get out. ‘Kyungsoo!’

Kyungsoo doesn’t respond. He doesn’t take notice of how the crowd suddenly falls silent, doesn’t hear his name being shouted in recognition, blocks out the urgent sound of the voice he used to fall asleep to. Nothing - nothing was getting through to him. All he could feel was this suffocating cold, this blizzard swirling in his chest, and he wants, more than anything, for it to stop.

He’d spent years stoppering the storm - he can’t afford to be thrown right back into the middle of it again.

He exits the building by the back door in the kitchen, ignores the looks of apprehension that he gets from the chefs and waiters who are struggling to put together food for a full house. By now his chest is heaving, that storm inside him feeling like it’s trying to pick up where it left off the last time.

It can’t be him.

Kyungsoo leans his back against the alley wall, rests his head against it as he tries to catch his breath, gather his thoughts and tuck them back into place.

Jongin. Jongin was here, in the other room, and because he’d already been paid for the night - Jongin was going to be in the crowd, watching him sing. He was going to have to go up on that stage and pretend like everything was okay, put on a good show when all he wanted to do was hide.

He buries his face in his hands, groans in frustration when the panic has ebbed away and the reality of his situation has finally sunk in.

It’s been years.

Try as he might, Kyungsoo could never get himself to forget the year he’d had his first love, the year he’d met Jongin. The town they grew up in wasn’t all that big, but it was big enough that the first time Kyungsoo laid eyes on Jongin was during their first year of college. He still remembers every last detail - from the way Jongin’s shy smile had his heart caught in his throat when they’d first met, to how flustered Jongin was on that afternoon between classes when he’d finally asked Kyungsoo out on a date.

He remembers the way Jongin’s hands felt when they were pressed into his, the way Jongin used to hold him, tap rhythms into his skin as if he were an instrument, and Jongin the only musician in the world who knew how to make him sing.

He remembers the way they’d laughed, and fought, and fought some more, until slowly, slowly fighting became all they ever did, screams being exchanged more often than words were. It soured because Jongin’s band was finally gathering up some hype, booked gigs left, right and center - and all of a sudden Kyungsoo’s boyfriend didn’t have time to be a boyfriend anymore, but Jongin didn’t want to admit it.

He thought he could have it all - his dream, his Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo hates how the two things were always separate, in Jongin’s mind.

He shoves the thoughts out of his mind - Jongin’s eyes, Jongin’s skin, Jongin’s laugh and Jongin’s screams- and tries to focus on regulating his breathing, when the door he’d just come through swings open, slams hard against the wall of the building.

Kyungsoo’s heart practically stops.

‘Kyungsoo?’

No. No, no, no, no, no - this isn’t right, this isn’t how things are supposed to be -

Before he can protest he feels himself be pulled forward, feels strong arms encircle him, feels a body press against his own. His name arrives to his own ears on whispers born of desperation, I miss yous being fed to him over and over again by a voice he hasn’t heard in years, and Kyungsoo wants to melt into it, wants to let that warmth surround him and pull him in -

But reality is a white-hot whip that strikes in the back of his mind and he knows that he can’t. This - what was happening to him now - stopped being right a long time ago. His heart is heavy when he pulls away, his bottom lip latching itself between his teeth, his limp fingers finding strength enough to curl into fists. He lets out a short breath before he gets the courage to push his view up to Jongin’s face - his heart is unsteady when their eyes meet again.

‘Kyungsoo,’ says Jongin, and it sounds like the first whisper of spring after a long, cold winter. There’s warmth wrapped around the edges of Jongin’s voice, and Kyungsoo feels so, so cold.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asks, but the question comes out shaky, in complete contrast to the way Kyungsoo wanted it to. His brow twitches into a frown, and the gentle warmth in Jongin’s eyes wavers.

This isn’t what the drummer had expected, Kyungsoo knows.

‘I - I had a show earlier, over at the community centre,’ says Jongin, hands slipping into jeans pockets. Kyungsoo can tell that he’s fresh from a show - Jongin’s changed out of what he wore for the concert, presumably, because his tshirt looks just the right blend of clean and disheveled. One of his sleeves has ridden up his shoulder, and Kyungsoo resists the urge to put it right.

‘I’m not talking about that,’ says Kyungsoo, his nerves making his words stumble. Anger and resentment begin to spark in the pit of his stomach, and he can feel them build in his throat. ‘I’m talking about here, tonight. Isn’t there some kind of club you could’ve gone to instead?’

Jongin’s brows knit together, and it’s been years, but Kyungsoo can still tell that it’s from equal parts confusion and apprehension. ‘We wanted to go somewhere where we could chill, and Yeol mentioned his uncle’s cafe, so we thought - ’

‘That you’d just show up unannounced?’ snaps Kyungsoo, jaw clenching. ‘Aren’t you a big time celebrity now? Don’t you guys have to follow procedures and stuff, arrange for bodyguards to fend off paparazziand like - ’

‘This place is our home,’ Jongin blisters, barely keeping the anger out of his voice. ‘I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight, I don’t have spies on you or any of that - it’s not like I planned any of this!’

‘And I’m supposed to believe that?’ shoots Kyungsoo, and he knows he’s being irrational, but the storm that’s been brewing has finally hit, and he finds he can’t stop even though he knows he should. ‘That you just happened to come here on the one night of the week that I play here? Is that it?’

‘Yes, because that’s exactly what ing happened!’ snaps Jongin, his chest heaving. He raises a hand to run fingers through his hair, takes a couple of deep breaths to try and calm down. ‘Look, Kyungsoo - I didn’t come here to fight, okay, nor did I come here because I knew you would be here. I have better things to do than to set spies on you - ’

‘Yeah, better things,’ says Kyungsoo, bitterness clear in his voice. ‘Better things to do that don’t concern me, isn’t that right?’

Jongin stops short, his his hand frozen, hovering right by his ear. ‘Kyungsoo - ’

‘Stupid of me to have forgotten. It’s only been five years, after all,’ he says. Disappointment makes him drop his gaze, his eyes falling to the ground between them. He can’t help but notice that Jongin’s wearing shiny new Vans.

He laughs to himself.

He can’t believe he still remembers those awful worn out Converse shoes the drummer used to wear, right up until they fell apart.

‘I didn’t think - Kyungsoo, I…’ Jongin’s voice trails off, and Kyungsoo doesn’t supply anything to help him. A silence condenses between them, weighs heavily on both men’s shoulders.

Jongin clears his throat.

‘You are the single most important person in my life, Kyungsoo.’

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen, his heart beginning to pick up the pace in his ribcage. What did Jongin just say?

‘I guess I should have… Explained it better to you before I left,’ says Jongin, shoulders sagging in defeat. He leans against the wall of the cafe’s back alley, hangs his head as he lets out a long, drawn out breath. ‘The last few months of us - I wasn’t a very good boyfriend to you. I admit. I’m not looking to make excuses for myself - but I’m hoping you’ll at least accept an explanation.’

Kyungsoo says nothing. He can barely hear Jongin’s words over the furious pounding of his heart in his ears.

Jongin sighs.

‘When we first got signed,’ Jongin begins, voice steadily making its way out. ‘The guy that signed us made sure to tell us that there was no guarantee of success. That the company would do what it could for us, but if the first single didn’t meet their sales target - you know, that would have been that. We would’ve been dropped. Game over.’

Kyungsoo’s eyes are still fixed on the ground.

‘And he told us how long it would take for us to even get our first single out - the writing process, approval, recording, music videos and all of that - I mean, you probably know for yourself. It took us about two years just to drop our first song. All that time, and even then, there was the possibility that we would have absolutely nothing to show for it. Come home empty handed, years of our lives wasted.’ Jongin’s words are slow and meticulous, and Kyungsoo can’t help but calm down, just a little.

He still remembers how the drummer used to do everything quick, brash, spontaneously - and how the only thing that would really mellow him was - well, Kyungsoo.

‘And I didn’t want that for you.’

A hand reaches out and gently, hesitantly, lays itself on Kyungsoo’s cheek, and he’s so startled that he looks up.

‘It wasn’t going to be fair on you,’ says Jongin, thumb caressing Kyungsoo’s cheek. ‘To make you wait around for me, when I couldn’t even guarantee that I’d come back with enough - with anything - in my bank account that could help the future of our relationship. It wouldn’t have been fair for you to wait and have me come back with nothing, and over the course of a few weeks - I realised it wouldn’t have been fair for me to expect you to wait at all.’

‘So you decided to do what’s best for me?’ asks Kyungsoo, jaw still clenched, fist still tight by his side. ‘Break my heart little by little, let it shatter - and leave me behind afterward?’ There’s still fire crackling in his voice, and he should feel some sense of relief, closure being something he so desperately needed - but he doesn’t.

He’s always told himself that the road not taken shouldn’t ever be traveled in hindsight - but now, here he is, with his ex-boyfriend, ex-love of his life in front of him, laying out all the what ifs he’d been struggling with over the past few years in front of him.

‘Never my intention,’ mutters Jongin, imploring under his breath, and there’s so much sorrow in his voice that Kyungsoo wants to forgive him, but - but he can’t wrap his head around what Jongin had just finished telling him: that there was a decision to make, one involving him, his happiness, his future - one he wasn’t invited to make himself.

‘But that’s what happened anyway, in the end.’

The back door to the cafe kitchen swings open, and Jongdae’s head pops out. ‘Kyungsoo! You’re up, come o - oh?’ Jongdae claps his hands to his mouth, eyebrows raised. It takes a second for Jongin to realise, and when he does - Kyungsoo doesn’t think he’s imagining the hesitation that makes the drummer’s fingers linger.

Kyungsoo takes a long, hard look at Jongin. His shoulders are just as broad, as solid - Jongin’s always had somewhat of a sculpted silhouette, and Kyungsoo’s sure his management has worked him hard to have him keep it that way. He dresses better, though - his hair is still in a post-concert mess, and his eyeliner has run a little, but the colour of his tshirt goes with his jeans, and those Vans - he looks good.

Kyungsoo meets Jongin’s gaze.

His eyes - they’re still as soft as water.

‘Um - sorry for ruining the moment here, but - you kind of. Need to get in there, Kyungsoo,’ mumbles Jongdae, a little ruefully.

Kyungsoo nods, and the waiter grimaces before he pops back into the kitchen. Kyungsoo follows after his friend - but stops, looks back at Jongin, at the future he could have had.

At the future he wanted to have, so, so badly.

‘For the record - I would have waited anyway.’




‘Thank you, you guys have been great,’ says Kyungsoo grinning at his audience as they applaud him. Sweat trickles down his temples, and despite the fact that he can still see where Jongin is in the crowd - he’s having a good time.

‘This next song is something I’ve never performed before,’ he continues, taking his capo off the neck of his guitar. There’s a sudden rush of emotion that prickles up and down his neck, and he’s certain that it’s got everything to do with the knowledge that somewhere in the crowd, Jongin is watching him.

‘I’m not really into being the mysterious guitar-slash-singer guy, but - I guess I have to say this,’ he says, adjusting his seat so he’s closer to the mic. ‘To the person that broke my heart a few years ago, this one’s for you.’

This is gospel for the fallen ones
Locked away in permanent slumber

The first time Jongin held his hand flashes through his mind. It was just around the time that the last autumn leaves were withering and giving way to winter, and Jongin had really big pockets in his jacket, and Kyungsoo had forgotten his gloves.

Assembling their philosophies
From pieces of broken memories

The first time Kyungsoo had dinner with Jongin’s family, he was a nervous wreck. Jongin’s sisters had grilled him for a good twenty minutes, before Mr Kim came in and picked up where they left off. At the end of the night, Jongin had kissed him breathless right up against his front door, his parents, unsuspecting, just on the other side of it.

This is the beat of my heart
This is the beat of my heart

He can’t wipe the memory of Jongin’s proud face smiling at him every time he got up to the mic to sing - it had always filled him with such calm. Stage fright was never an issue, with Jongin there in the crowd, cheering him on.

Their gnashing teeth and criminal tongues conspire against the odds
But they haven’t seen the best of us yet

He dares to venture a glance at where he knows Jongin’s sitting. His fingers almost falter when he finds him.

Just like old times - Jongin’s eyes are only fixated on him.

‘If you love me let me go,’ he sings, eyes glued on Jongin’s. ‘Cause these words are knives and often leave scars - the fear of falling apart.’ There’s a sharp lilt to his voice when he sings the last few words, and he watches as Jongin readjusts himself in his seat.

This wasn’t a performance anymore - it was a confessional on a stage, a serenade that was long overdue.

There are so, so many things Kyungsoo knows they’ve left unsaid - but he can’t let himself wait around for things that weren’t coming anymore. He and Jongin had missed the last train home, and the next one wasn’t due till morning.

And Kyungsoo - he’s done waiting.

‘Truth be told, I never was yours - the fear of falling apart.’

He breaks eye contact, keeps Jongin in his peripherals. By the time the second chorus hits his throat, he sees Jongin push his chair back, begin to say his goodbyes.

He’s leaving - again - and Kyungsoo finds that he’s… Really, really, okay with that.

He lets the last few notes rip through his throat, sends them hurtling to his audience with a force reminiscent of the whirlwind Jongin’s had him in over the past few years, and even before then - the same gale he’ll never let himself be caught up in again.

‘This is the beat of my heart, this is the beat of my - ’ Kyungsoo keeps singing, his eyes now fixed on Jongin. The latter is standing now, a defeated smile pushing at his lips.

It has been years since Jongin has looked at him in this way, like there’s longing and there’s love and a plethora of other emotions in his eyes - and Kyungsoo surprises himself. He doesn’t feel like he’ll miss it, not as badly, not anymore. There comes a time in your life when you realise that you aren’t in love with the person anymore - just, you’re in love with the idea of them. Kyungsoo knows, now, that he’s been in love with the ghost of the man that’s looking at him - and that ghost, that person… He doesn’t exist anymore. His Jongin and the Jongin of the present - they’re two different people.

And, eyes on Jongin’s as they are, in this moment - Kyungsoo realises, he’s already starting to be okay with it.

Jongin sends a small wave Kyungsoo’s way - one he knows the singer won’t be able to return - and leaves.

The door swings shut behind him, and Kyungsoo refocuses his attention on the rest of his crowd.

He’s not holding out on a broken dream anymore.

He’s going to be okay.

The fear, the fear of falling apart. 

Author’s Note:
This is unedited, I’m rusty, etc pls excuse

And listen to the song!!! Ok it’s good!!!

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