That was the last time they worked together – that ‘sultry night’ shoot. That was the last time, yet Myungsoo can barely remember any of it. He wrinkles his nose. Bad things start with Lee Sungyeol. It’s all the actor’s fault he suffered memory loss.

They were supposed to work together a couple of times after that – the previous magazine sold so well, it was to be expected they’d be paired up again. However, plans always changed. They changed mysteriously. One of those times, Myungsoo had had to do a shoot with Kim Heechul, while Howon (who’d been scheduled to do it) was suddenly sent to shoot Sungyeol. Heechul was not an agreeable subject on a good day, certainly not when his photographer was switched last minute. More bad things that stemmed from Sungyeol.

Also, most idols were a little scared of Lee Howon, but there was Sungyeol choosing the gruff Busanite with the poison tongue over Myungsoo. Sunggyu informed him later that the two had even gone for drinks afterwards. Myungsoo groans, squirming miserably in his seat. Sunggyu half-heartedly pats his back. (The older man’s off his phone – such progress).

“What’s going on?” Myungsoo whines to the universe in general.

“Hm? Dancing? Dancing’s going on,” Sunggyu answers with alacrity. Myungsoo frowns at him.

“That’s not what I meant, Hyung.” By the time he’s finished his sentence, Myungsoo’s head has found its way to Sunggyu’s lap. Myungsoo’s not sure how that happened exactly, but Sunggyu’s thighs are warm and shapely, so he leaves it there.

“Was what you meant about Sungyeol?” Sunggyu asks, patting Myungsoo’s hair in a comforting sort of way. Myungsoo flails and wriggles until he can better see Sunggyu. He’s lying down, facing the rafters with his legs splayed out under their table and his nape really terribly comfortably tucked in Sunggyu’s lap. He’s made several glasses topple over with his manoeuvrings, but Myungsoo’s too occupied to mull over that.

“Yes,” he decides, “Yes, it is.”

Sunggyu chuckles. He tugs Myungsoo’s hair lightly, making the man in question stick his lip out in indignation.

“Well then, I don’t know what’s going on either,” Sunggyu replies, unhelpfully, before adding, even more unhelpfully, “You should talk to him.”

Myungsoo’s eyes widen. He sits up straight away and straight away regrets doing so. The room is spinning more than he’d anticipated. To steady himself, he shakily pours another measure of the citrus liqueur into one of the few glasses that he didn’t accidentally knock over, then downs it.

“I shouldn’t! He can’t stand me. I don’t like him much either. Better to whatsit.”

“Leave him be? Let bygones be bygones? Pass sheep in the night?” Sunggyu supplies, failing to hide his amusement.

“All of that,” Myungsoo asserts, glaring off into the depths of the dancefloor, “I can live without knowing why he hates me. I can. And I can live without knowing why even Howon-hyung’s better company than me. Whatever. Sungyeol’s weird. There’s no accounting for whatsit.”

“Attraction?”

“Yeah! No. The other one.”

“Taste?”

Myungsoo nods rapidly, giving Sunggyu a thumbs up. He settles back in his chair. He feels a bit accomplished, although, if pressed, he wouldn’t be able to explain why.

Nevertheless, as ever, the fissure in his life refuses to be ignored for long. Myungsoo’s eyes are forever sliding back to Sungyeol and his dancing – awful dancing, like an ostrich died bright red and wearing a designer t-shirt doing some kind of raindance. Memories keep re-emerging. Last November, Sungyeol in short sleeves and pastel colours looking stunning under another photographer’s lens. September, spotting the idol in the hallway when Myungsoo’d just finished a shoot with the actress, Krystal Jung, and how Sungyeol couldn’t even muster a polite smile, let alone a reply, to Myungsoo’s ‘good afternoon’. July, inadvertently overhearing the tail end of Sungyeol begging Howon to shoot him instead of letting that guy do it.

“ –wasn’t an issue before! Please, Hyung… What do you mean I’ve never called you ‘hyung’? Of course I have! I call you that all the time. But please. Pretty please? I don’t want to… I just don’t like him, OK? He’s weird and I –”

Myungsoo had walked away, looking for any job whatsoever to distract himself. That’s what he needs now too. A distraction. Something to make his stupid brain stop fixating on that rude, noisy, hyperactive, red-headed emu.

A distraction arrives shortly. It comes in the form of a short but handsome stylist sporting an orange t-shirt and blond hair bleached and permed close to the point of death.

“Hey look,” Sunggyu points out, yanking Myungsoo out of his reverie by jabbing his elbow into the photographer’s side, “That’s Dongwoo, isn’t it? Dancing with the noona in the golden dress. When did he dye his hair? Maybe I should call him to come over here.” Sunggyu’s phone is already in his hands when Myungsoo shoots up. The last upright bottles give up the fight and fall over, rolling gently on the tabletop. Sunggyu blinks up at him impassively.

“No need,” Myungsoo objects with a wonky smile, “I’m gonna go say hi.”

Myungsoo hears Sunggyu’s voice behind him as he sets off across the dancefloor,

“Ah. ‘Say hi’ – that’s what the kids are calling it these days, is it?”

When he reaches Dongwoo, the noona in the golden dress has just left to join her girlfriends. This means it’s less awkward than it might have been when Myungsoo stumbles over his own feet and falls into Dongwoo’s arms, his cheek squashed pleasantly between the stylist’s pecks.

“Wanna dance?” he mumbles, rolling his eyes to peek up at the man. Dongwoo’s giggling too much to answer, but he wraps his arms around Myungsoo’s shoulders and sways happily.

It’s so nice – especially when Myungsoo manages to right himself and is no longer having crane his neck to look up at Dongwoo. Dancing is nice. Dongwoo is warm and nice. Sunggyu is nice for buying him drinks. Alcohol is very nice. The dancefloor is small, so once in a while Sungyeol’s laughter cuts through to him – that’s not so nice. But even that fades eventually. Then it’s only himself and the music and the heat of the crowd and Dongwoo’s hands casually resting on his bum. Myungsoo could almost forget about the fissure that’s been driving him crazy for months. He feels so good, so giddy. On impulse, he brushes his lips against Dongwoo’s cheek. When the stylist just laughs softly and gives Myungsoo’s bum a squeeze, the photographer assumes it’s OK to do a little more.

He presses another light kiss closer to Dongwoo’s plump mouth. Since all Dongwoo does is tilt his head a little, Myungsoo trails his hand from Dongwoo’s arm, up his shoulder, to his neck. Now, maybe he’d be a bit better at this if he were sober… but he wouldn’t be trying this if he were sober. And Dongwoo’s parted lips say it’s OK. Myungsoo draws the shorter man closer. He can feel Dongwoo’s breath on his lips. All thoughts are flying from his head with the prospect of his mouth against Dongwoo’s, tongue against tongue, hips against hips. Myungsoo’s eyes flutter shut.

“Heylookcanweplease –”

Myungsoo kisses him. It’s as warm as he’d anticipated. As soft. As nice. The taste of alcohol and melon flavoured gum in his mouth. Dongwoo’s not as responsive as Myungsoo had anticipated. He’s also much higher up than Myungsoo expected.

Myungsoo opens his eyes. A pair of large, brown, slightly terrified ones peer back at him. Myungsoo shoves Sungyeol away. The actor holds a hand to his chest where Myungsoo pushed him. After a brief (horrific) pause, words start freefalling from Sungyeol’s mouth. (Myungsoo tries not to look directly at it. Nor to remember how sweet it tasted).

“I was – I just – Cos Gyu-hyung said – and we, please – Can – Can’t we –”

“Sorry!” It’s too much for Myungsoo. He yells his apology and scrambles away – much too quickly to notice Dongwoo’s concerned and contrite look or the hurt on Sungyeol’s face. Myungsoo reaches his booth and all but dives for his seat. He curls up in a ball, whimpering quietly. Once he’s recovered himself a little, he glances up to see Sunggyu and Nam Woohyun scrutinising him from above.

“Is he alright?” the singer asks, not taking his eyes off Myungsoo.

“Hard to say,” Sunggyu sighs.

“When did he get here?” Myungsoo squawks, pointing a finger at Woohyun.

“Just now,” Sunggyu shrugs, while the singer looks mildly offended at Myungsoo’s pointing. Noticing what he’s doing, Myungsoo retracts his finger and folds his hands on his chest. “Well, he’s been here long enough to see you kiss Sungyeollie. Congratulations,” Sunggyu deadpans. Myungsoo groans into the seat cover.

“I’m not sure that’s sanitary,” Woohyun remarks. Myungsoo ignores him and does it again. He decides he should stay like this for a while. Earlier, sitting up had turned out to be a bad idea. Arguably, getting out of bed this morning had been a bad idea. So he’ll just stay curled up here. Not moving. Not making any sudden motions. Not thinking about why he might’ve kissed Sungyeol and how much he wants to taste him again he’d like to enquire what brand of gum he chews. He’s distantly aware of Sunggyu and Woohyun conversing, but it drifts in one ear and out the other.

“Is this what I drove out for?”

“No. They’ve just, er, gone a bit awry. I can fix it.”

“OK. I believe you.”

“Of course.”

“You should order me a Bloody Mary for my troubles though.”

“Shush, I’m thinking.”

Eventually, Myungsoo is roused by Woohyun hitting his shoulder – rather harder than is necessary in Myungsoo’s opinion. He sees the singer’s lips move, but the words don’t at first register. Woohyun slaps him again and flaps his hand towards somewhere out of Myungsoo’s field of vision.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but go and make out –”

“Up!” Sunggyu coughs.

“Right. Make up with him so I can finally get somewhere tonight. Please.”

Sunggyu takes the time to shove Woohyun, but when his gaze lands on Myungsoo, it’s soft and encouraging. Myungsoo gulps. Picking himself up, he peeps in the direction Woohyun had indicated. Sungyeol is standing just a little distance from him. The actor looks nervous and apologetic, ruffling his hair and fiddling with his graphic t-shirt. He doesn’t look at all like he wants to strangle Myungsoo. That doesn’t make any sort of sense, making Myungsoo freeze, at a loss for what to say or do. Sungyeol must be angry, he reasons. The actor’s likely in a state of suppressed rage. One wrong word and it’ll all burst forth in fiery wrath and fury. That being so, Myungsoo lets out a wordless cry, and he flees. 

XXX

A bit of DongwooxAilee having a fab and platonic night on the town there ヽ(○｀･v･)人(･v･´●)ﾉ