Jonghyun raises his left leg, opening the album and balances it on his knee. His left hand is gripping edge of the album, careful as not to make it shift when he is signs on it, while his right hand is twirling the white marker, the cap wedged between his teeth. Jonghyun signs with practiced ease, a curl there, a loop here. He carefully puts the album down and reaches out to far left for another. He repeats the process until there is only one last album left.

“You should probably put your shoes on,” his manager chimes in right after Jonghyun stacks one album on top of another.

Jonghyun blinks at him, very slowly because his mind cannot catch up fast enough with his hearing. Even to say he’s tired is an understatement. The exhaustion is sea and he is rusty, black anchor, dragged by the gravity, pressed by the current. Even though keeping his eyes open is no longer an effort arduous - thanks to the coffee his manager had insisted him to drink - he still cannot shake off the lingering weariness.

His manager apparently realized Jonghyun is still staring at him like a lost child. He gives him sympathetic smile, “I said; you should put your shoes on. You don’t have much time.”

He said it with such tenderness that lifts the mist from Jonghyun’s mind. The pink haired singer ducks his head in embarrassment, biting his lips and dons a sheepish smile. “Yeah, right, sorry.” With concealed sigh, Jonghyun bends down and start wearing his shoes, the left one first. His thumb holds the back part of his leather shoes, pulling it to give his foot a room to slip in. Once he’s done with the left, he begins working on the right, fighting another weary sigh from escaping his lips.

When both his feet are tucked safely inside his shoes, Jonghyun, still bending down, stretches his arms forward, groaning as he feels his muscles shifting. It’s been a long day, right after he’s done with his radio broadcast, nervousness decided it was the right time to find while and sleep to left him alone to. He spent the remaining hours until pre-recording wide awake, staring at the black wall of his room with sleeping Roo curled on his laps. When the sun rose, spilling rich velvety blanket of violet and orange, Jonghyun ushered himself inside the car, watching the passing blur of familiar scenery until he arrived at music station for pre-recording. His only solace from anxiety was his fans smiles and warm encouragement. He managed to finish it in two takes before he had to bustle himself once again into his car and let his manager drove him for another radio broadcast. He managed to catch some sleep in between but it didn’t mean his fatigue has left him alone. In fact, they’re rooted even deeper in his gut, especially when he remembered he still has another radio to host tonight. Jonghyun had groaned when he sit down to let the stylist work on his hair, he really hoped he could at least sleep for two hours before another music show recording. His body can use some of it.

A shadow falls over him, black shoes entered his line of vision. “This is the last one,” something hard and blunt touches his nape. Jonghyun flinches but he doesn’t move until the object is lifted.  He looks up to find his manager smiling down on him, concerned yet encouraging at the same time. Just a little more, his smile says, hang in there, you’re doing good.

Flitting his gaze to the blue album between his manager’s fingers, Jonghyun sighs softly, resigned smile blooms on his face. “Yeah, the last one.”

He straightens his back, accepts the album and his manager pats his shoulder before returning to his seat, flicking his finger over his phone screen to resume whatever activity he was doing before (probably arranging his schedule). Jonghyun opens the album and curses when the card slips out from it. He is about to retrieve it up when the door swings open, allowing a rich, luscious voice to trickle in.

“Babe.” The four syllables make feather-like kisses of electricity skitter down his spine. Jonghyun shudders, closing his eyes briefly. No matter how many times he had been called with that term of endearment, he is still not used to it. Blinking his eyes open, Jonghyun’s gaze travel to where the voice comes from.

His breathe is caught in his throat upon seeing the man standing behind half opened door; a fair of familiar, foxy eyes, pink bow for lips, porcelain-like skin, cute nose. “Kibum,” he murmurs in answer.

His body does that thing it always does whenever he senses Kibum’s presence. It starts with every particle of his body colliding into each other, like stars, like supernova, bursting in technicolor and paints his pitch-black heart alive. The explosion sends his body on fire, it’s so loud, like the rush of his blood, and the beating of his heart, while his cells twitter in happiness. His body turns into grand orchestra of galaxy, song of faraway star, alien and unknown but to him. They spin melody and his emotions are the lyrics. They speak of tenderness, of eyes honeyed cinnamon, of lips as red as the blood that dances in his veins blue, of sleepless night and warm fingers that send him to sleep. Of world creation and man’s destruction; of love.

The song shakes the core of Jonghyun’s soul. The quake sends his armor away, peeling layers and layers of pretense off, leaving Jonghyun’s heart open and bare for Kibum to see. Jonghyun is a tap and Kibum opens it with his delicate fingers, the flowing water is his emotion. It is Kibum’s to scoop and decide what to do with it; let them slip from the crack of his fingers or drink them in. Kibum choose the later, always the later because even if there’re times when he was unsure about the ground they’re standing on, he never let Jonghyun down just like Jonghyun will always be the wings to make him soar.

Jonghyun can feel every shift and stretch of his facial muscle when a smile curls themselves on his face. He knows it’s a tired one, but it’s also genuine. Kibum does a lot of thing to him, one of them being alleviating his fear and worry, liberating him from the heavy chains of anxiety. He hopes he can have the same effect on the younger man but when he sees Kibum’s mouth turned downward and his expression drops, Jonghyun knows he is man failing his mission.

He hates seeing Kibum sad, hates seeing him upset, hates seeing those beautifully imperfect brows furrowing themselves in frustration. He almost slides on his knees to get on Kibum’s feet, begging to tell him what is wrong, and who does this to him because Jonghyun will slay them repeatedly, in their wake and in their sleep until they learn their lesson as not to make Kim Kibum upset. He almost does until Kibum’s eyes wavers when they rake over his own feature. Jonghyun feels like jumping off the train of emotion that is taking him in a ride.

Of course it’s him. Kibum is upset because like this, under Kibum’s merciful gaze that can only welcome and love, Jonghyun lets every single atom of his emotion oozes out from his pores, dripping himself in murky rivulets of weariness. Kibum obviously sees that, registering Jongyun’s distress as his own, because Kibum is compassionate, because Kibum is forbearing. Because Kibum is tender like sun, golden, warm, and embracing, encompassing Jonghyun in its heart-searing ray that speaks of new beginning.

Because Kibum loves him and Jonghyun will do absolutely anything in his capability to prove his love for Kibum; be it sailing the seven seas of voyaging the uncharted galaxy. However, that’s now what Kibum needs right now, Jonghyun knows what he does and reaches out. His splays his palm open, offering, waiting. He lets his eyes speak for him, pouring every single words uttered by mankind to convince Kibum that he is fine.

Kibum’s eyes narrows like he is in pain, except there’s also relief and comfort there, shining and penetrating from beneath the cloak of worry. Kibum reaches out his hand as well, five steps that lead the reunion of their fingers. Skin kisses skin, rough meets soft. Jonghyun feels like thousands of pigeons bursting through the confine of his bones, taking flight to faraway land of dreams and liberty. Those fingers fill the empty space between his own, like oxygen that pours to his lungs, completing him, making him right and alive. He curls his own fingers against them, tight so there is no void in between. Kibum smiles and Jonghyun knows he is looking at the raven-haired male like he is the sun to his universe.

Jonghyun opens his mouth but words fail him, his larynx is caving in as his breath dies in his throat. Kibum plops down but not on the milk-tea cream sofa Jonghyun is sitting on. Jonghyun had expected Kibum to sit there and shift the weight, like he is tipping the gravity of Jonghyun’s world. He doesn’t. His legs, clad in tight black pants, are spilling over Jonghyun’s thigh, warm and heavy. A weight that chains him to the ground but arbalest him to the sky. His torso is not quiet touching Jonghyun - a contact that will surely destroy into multitude of bright, vivid color - but their connected hands are resting on their laps while Kibum’s left hand is circling itself around Jonghyun’s shoulder, gripping it in loose clutch as not to make him fall.

Realizing that Kibum could fall if he just continue sitting there, dumb and gaping, and what, Jonghyun’s body moves in autopilot to secure him. But as he leans to the back of the sofa, letting gravity sags Kibum’s weight on him, he is not sure if the autopilot function has been set right. Because, really, the right reaction would have been sliding Kibum off his lap (very gently as not to offend the beautiful boy), not roping him flush against Jonghyun’s overheated body.

Now, they are practically cuddling and Jonghyun can only stare at their gawking managers. He cannot make any other reaction because he is not quiet sure what is the appropriate reaction to your band-member suddenly throwing himself to your laps. Probably telling him to sit on the sofa instead. But his body choirs in joy while his mind alternates between reciting prayer and belting out colorful words.

Jonghyun continues to stare at fix point somewhere between their (still gawking and now, very pale) managers while Kibum twitters his worry away right beside Jonghyun’s ears. He is touched by the affection but when Kibum shifts to remove his hand from between the sofa and Jonghyun’s bony shoulder, Jonghyun becomes hyper aware of how Kibum’s is now sliding closer to dangerous territory.

He coughs nervously, words tumbling out from his trembling mouth in broken sentences, “um, right. Thank you. I guess, for the attention. I’m fine, the radio-”

Kibum pauses mid sentence, blinks down on him, and his long, black lashes flutter like butterfly wings. Jonghyun’s heart coos at the adorable caramel eyes. He parts his knees open, and Kibum’s right leg slides off from his right knee, spilling in between his legs instead. Jonghyun swears Kibum can feel a certain part of his lower region stirring awake.

“Kibum, maybe you should-”

Jonghyun’s manager speaks, “boys, maybe you should-”

“God, Bum, I need my blazer ba- Oh My God-”

Four pair of eyes meet one. There in the door stands Nam Woohyun. His mouth is hanging open, eyes wide like he is seeing for the first time. Jonghyun can practically feel them zooming in on him and Kibum; on their very compromising position, on the way Kibum’s legs are splayed across and on top of Jonghyun, on their joined hands, and on the way Kibum’s upper body is leaning so comfortably on Jonghyun’s own.

“Oh My God,” Woohyun gasps again. He looks like he is dying to close the door, pretending he never see this, and bolts away. But his legs are rooted to the ground, body still, preventing him to even more his fingers. Which is probably how three occupants of the room (not Kibum, no, he is, Jonghyun decides, very comfortable in Jonghyun’s laps) are experiencing right now.

“Oh, hush, Namu,” Kibum chides. He lets go of Jonghyun’s fingers to make a waving gesture, pulling his body upright, detaching himself from Jonghyun’s body but still sitting on his knee, using his right leg to balance himself. Jonghyun screams mentally in horror when his own body follows Kibum, sitting right and left hand circling around Kibum’s torso to hold him there. Kibum’s left arm latches itself around Jonghyun’s shoulder in return. The eldest singer in the room swears if someone told him he is dead, he would believe them, because this feels too good for a world of living.

Woohyun’s jaw drops even lower. The rational part of Jonghyun’s brain is screeching at him to let go because their managers look like they’re about to drop as well, unconscious.

“What-you,” Woohyun flails, his bewildered eyes dart between Kibum and Jonghyun, then to - did he just look at Kibum’s chest? Jonghyun feels protectiveness surging in his blood like crashing waves and coils his left hand so he is practically holding Kibum now. Woohyun’s eyes widen even more and when he speaks, he sounds utterly defeated, “-not in my jacket.”

That’s it. Jonghyun’s left hand clutches the fabric of Woohyun’s jacket even if his skin crawl to wrench it off Kibum’s body, his right hand’s finger curl around his waist. Tight, steadfast. Monochromatic lock. Securing Kibum in his laps. Possessive. Kibum’s body grows impossibly lax in his hold. Jonghyun feels himself smirking. Mine.

From the way Woohyun’s already tense shoulders go rigid, Jonghyun can tell the other male is aware of the change of his expression. He is probably not the only one who realizes the change in Jonghyun’s atmosphere. Everyone in the room are taut like bow string, stretched to its maximum limit. The fingers holding the delicate string are Kibum’s, and he lets the arrow go.

“Shush, I will return this back to you after I changed,” Kibum says, rolling his eyes.

Jonghyun drops his head to Kibum’s shoulder, Kibum lets out a very faint sigh that only Jonghyun’s ears can pick up. He pretends he doesn’t see Woohyun’s face goes even paler, or the way his manager practically collapse on his chair. Kibum’s manager leans on the wall before gesturing tiredly to Woohyun to come inside. Woohyun shuffles in in hesitant steps then closes - slams - the door behind him. Groans escaped their managers lips, Jonghyun flinches but Kibum doesn’t even bat an eyelash, still perched on his laps proudly. Gorgeously.

“I- umm,” Woohyun stutters, his gaze quivers as much, but with a shaky breath, he steels himself. Looking up, Woohyun eventually speaks, “look, I’d really appreciate it if you don’t go around sitting on your-,” he swallows, conviction slipping away from him for a moment before he grips them desperately and shoves it down his throat. “- boy-” the word slobbers ugly, Woohyun cringes, “- hyung, friend. In my clothing.”

Oh. Jonghyun’s mind supplies, so that’s why Woohyun was  looking at Kibum’s chest, because the jacket Kibum is wearing is Woohyun’s. Jonghyun frowns. It doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t like it, nor does it lessen the carnal urge to strip the suddenly offending piece of fabric off Kibum’s body. Jonghyun’s gaze searches the room, where the hell does his yellow jacket go?

Kibum pouts, “well, this is comfy, and-”

“I have similar one anyways,” Jonghyun fails to stop the words from scattering out. He was barely holding them together but they escaped from the crack of his fingers, revealing themselves verbally for the world to hear. Kibum looks at him with one brow raised in surprise. The anxiety returns like hammer, staggering. Jonghyun blinks rapidly then tries to slink away from Kibum’s amused and interested eyes. “I mean- I, the one for SBS gayo. Umm, never mind. Ignore me, pretend that I’m not-”

“I think it’d be hard when I’m sitting so comfortably on your laps, yeah?” Kibum chuckles, bemused entirely.

Jonghyun feels like scampering out the room, away from all these overwhelming stares. He whimpers, very, very quietly. “Yeah, right. I- okay, I will just-” he would have make a gesture with his hands, but they’re currently dead asleep on where they’re fastened around Kibum’s body, blissful and oblivious. Jonghyun mentally sneers at his limbs - treacherous limbs. “- sits here and be your comfortable lap - I MEAN; sofa! I will be your comfortable sofa! Expensive, Italian-leather sofa!” Jonghyun practically screeches after his slip-up, high-pitched and strained, like angry Harpies. Expect he is not angry; he is flustered. His face is surely bright red and vivid, glowing hotly from embarrassment like traffic light.

Kibum does not giggle - no, he laughs, pitch higher than Jonghyun’s, loud and clear like siren. Seizing him, capturing his attention in tender yet vice grip that Jonghyun can only pay attention to him. His laugh is boisterous in pure, undiluted amusement. Kibum’s head is tilted back, long neck exposed and Jonghyun’s instinct is to a long, wet stripe down that elegantly carved neck. His heart screams mine, mine, rioting against the steel cages of his ribs when his head tells him to not act on impulse. He doesn’t Kibum’s skin; he drops his head over it, pretending bashfulness when he is actually hiding his salacity.

“Right,” Kibum snorts, wiping the pooling tears on his eyes with his fingers. Jonghyun chants prayer of gratitude, had he been looking at the action, his mouth will probably water, because, damn, now all he wants to do is every possible part of Kibum’s delectable skin. “Expensive, Italian-leather sofa. Like you shoes, hum?? Saint Lauren and all.”

Jonghyun nods and regrets it immediately; his forehead is ghosting against Kibum’s skin. He mercilessly reigns the monstrosity that is his animalistic desire with leather cord, pulling them tight with all his might (and wishing he still has his biceps from 2012 because h can really use them right now). “Yeah, Saint Lauren. Okay, your sofa,” he mutters awkwardly, “just- drop this, please?”

Kibum pats his shoulder reassuringly, sending bolts of electricity down his spines. Jonghyun trembles, every whisper of Kibum’s touch untangles the knot of tension that binds his body. “Okay, sorry. You’re tired already, huh? Poor, My Jonghyunnie-hyung,” Kibum coos again.

If Kibum is not currently sitting cosily on his laps, Jongyun would have leap up like he’s zapped with lightning. If Kibum is not already worried sick about him, Jonghyun would have cry, in bliss, in rapture. In religious hymn of lucid ecstasy. Alas, kibum is currently sitting cosily on his laps and Kibum is already worried sick about him, so Jonghyun cannot do any of the above. Oh, but he nuzzles on Kibum’s neck, okay, the affectionate-puppy-nuzzle-nuzzle. His nose caresses Kibum’s skin, he breathes in euphoric scent of mint and vanilla. Jonghyun is not seeing them but he can ‘see’ the other three men in the room are wishing the ground will swallow them whole. Well, he cannot blame them. Even he himself wishes the ground beneath him will open up and downs him, only him, not Kibum because all Kibum deserve is to be flown up to the moon, in the most luxurious space shuttle, the one that can accommodate Comme des and Garcons so Kibum won't be lonely

“Oh God, No- ,” Woohyun curses loudly. Their managers are probably thinking along the same line. “No- Bum- my jacket- Jonghyu- Oh my God.”

Gathering his courage (and self-restraint) that’s scattered all over the floor, Jonghyun finally looks up. Woohyun is burying his face in one hand, his manager is looking at him with unreadable expression. Kibum’s manager looks resigned. But if there is something that Jonghyun picks from under the heavy layers of fear draped over the two elder men, it’s sympathy. He feels his scalding blood simmering down into a calm stream, a strange sense of gratification and opulence. Jonghyun offers them his helpless apologetic smile, hoping they could give just a little more mercy from their vast, generous heart  He knows they know of words he - and Kibum - could not say; words that their eyes spoke instead, words that their hands act on instead. They know about the feelings that run, thick and dense in the red of their blood, coursing through their veins like drug; venomous yet addicting. They know and if there is anything Jonghyun dares to ask, it is not their understanding; just their acceptance.

Kibum’s manager reacts first, replying Jonghyun’s smile with his own. His eyes shine and they speak; take care of him, take care of yourself too. Jonghyun nods, his gaze flies to his manager, pleading. The man sighs, shoulders dropping and running his hand through his hair, giving Jonghyun a stern nod and small, barely there smile. The valve of his throat opens, Jonghyun breathes easier, and in place of grey-lenses, there are rose-colored ones. For a moment he lets himself forget, of consequences, of peril. Of choking fear and unease of wasteland.

“For someone who’s supposed to write lyrics for his own song, you’re disappointingly inarticulate,” Kibum drawls mockingly.

Woohyun’s eyes go big, offended, he points at Jonghyun with raised shoulders. “Say that to you boy- hyung- FRIEND!”

Kibum laughs again at his friend’s stutter, “Nope, still abysmal. And Jonghyunnie-hyung is just fine, aren’t you, Hyung?”

“Yes, of course. Brilliant!” Jonghyun grins, slowly regaining his usual ease despite the swooping of his stomach. He gives Woohyun a teasing grin, “still a long way to go, Nam!”

And a wink too, because Woohyun’s face is completely priceless. Woohyun looks like some random dude came up on stage out of nowhere when he was performing heart-wrenching, earth-shattering ballad, to slap him on the face, yells at him, and walks away. Kibum produces his iPhone from his pocket and in fast swipes of agile, practiced fingers, he snaps a picture. “YAH!” Woohyun hollers.

Kibum cackles giddily. His left arm is still wounded tightly around Jonghyun’s shoulder, keeping himself from falling. Not that he will since Jonghyun’s arms around Kibum’s torso is just as tight. He tilts his phone to show Jonghyun his recent photograph, Jonghyun peers in, pink hair brushing on the skin of Kibum’s jaw. “Wait until your fans see this,” Kibum snickers.

Woohyun opens his mouth, closes it again, then opens it. “And you,” he growls, snatching Kibum’s phone in a blink of an eye. His grin when he directs the rectangle device to the cosy pair on the sofa is triumphant. “Wait until this hits instagram.”

Maybe it’s natural instinct, born after eight years of experience (photo-shoot, cordial intimacy). Kibum’s right hand returns to where it belongs; on top of his left that’s latched on Jonghyun’s shoulder, fast and steady. His whole weigh sags against Jonghyun who leans forward to seal any rift that breaches him and Kibum apart. His right hand is clasped around his left wrist, curling his fingers around. His chin is resting on Kibum’s chest, cheeks pressed against the part where his arm meets his body. A smile, tired yet please looped itself to his face; open and honest.

Woohyun’s mouth drops open ajar, finger already tapped on the button. The shutter clicks and Jonghyun belatedly realize it’s not Onew standing behind the lenses. His lower lip wobbles as Woohyun’s gaze twinkles before softening, growing warmer several degree that makes Jonghyun blushes again.

“Let me see,” Kibum demands, right hand reaching out. Jonghyun shuffles his left, keeping him stable and preventing him from completely sliding off his laps. Woohyun hands the phone mutely, eyes still lingering on Jonghyun but pointedly ignored as Jonghyun peers on the finished product. He doesn’t need to see what those eyes inquire. He knows, and Kibum, despite his nonchalance, probably knows too. Woohyun is Kibum’s friend so Jonghyun will let the man in his hold deal with that. “You look tired,” he says to Jonghyun, brow furrowing in concern.

“Mm-hmm, I am,” Jonghyun affirms, throwing him a dopey smile. The concerns tears him apart, but it makes his heart flares with affection. His right thumb rubs on Kibum’s sides, coaxing him. “But I’m fine, I just need some coffee, and-”

“Sleep,” Kibum retorts. “Catch some, an hour, no coffee after radio tonight.”

Jonghyun bites the corner of his bottom lips, lids dropping as his cheeks beams crimson. His heart whoops and leaps, an uncoordinated dance of  rapture. “Okay, yeah. No more coffee after radio.”

“And sleep,” Kibum repeats sternly, looking straight at Jonghyun. His smile is no more, Jonghyun wants to kiss them back. “You really need some. If you can’t, just-” he pauses like he is carefully selecting his words, brows furrowed, calculating. “Call me, okay? I will read you stories, sing you to sleep.”

The image of Kibum reading him story while Jonghyun is tucked under heavy, black duvet with bright, red sleeping hat makes laughter bubbles from his stomach before dribbling out from his lips, blaring, thoroughly entertained. “Oh my, yes, Kibum. Yes, please, you are so generous.”

Their eyes meet, birds twitter in the distance, Jonghyun’s whole being thrums in jubilation Kibum smiles down on him, endless downpour of sunshine. Jonghyun’s guidance in the dark, scooping him up from abyss of monotony, splashing, bright, brilliant color to his lassitude. “Only for you.”

Someone coughs, Kibum’s manager, and, “I think you should go, Kibum. It’s starting soon.”

“Yeah,” Kibum murmurs, nodding absent-minded-ly. His gaze is still on Jonghyun, rich and heavy. Like responsibility, like being the one who Kibum chooses to hold his heart.

Jonghyun maintains his stare for as long as he could before time rips Kibum away from him. He hopes within the little remaining of time, his eyes can relay what his heart cannot convey; i love you, i love you, thank you. I love you. I will do good, be good, for you. Thank you. I love you. “You really should go.”

“I really should go,” Kibum repeats, eyes glassy, dazed, as they receive signals that are Jonghyun’s unsaid words. The elder squeezes his sides, snapping Kibum back from whatever trance state he was in. He blinks, regaining his focus, then, “Okay, yeah. I really should go. Meet you on stage, okay?”

Jonghyun considers leaning in to plant a kiss on those bow-shaped lips, or at least nips on his chin. But Kibum is moving faster; detangling his arms from Jonghyun’s shoulders, detaching his body from Jonghyun’s, sliding his legs off from Jonghyun’s laps. Jonghyun can only watch, hands falling helplessly to his side as Kibum removes himself from him - not completely, no, because their eyes are still on each other, lingering, not ready to let go. His body goes numb, starting from the part that used to house Kibum’s warmth. The stinging chills are long, slimy, and foreign limbs, slipping into his veins from beneath the shifting ground, grappling around his lungs, before wiring themselves around Jonghyun’s throat, unforgiving. If it wasn’t for Kibum’s gaze - pool of bright caramel, his elixir of life - Jonghyun wouldn’t be able to breath.

When Kibum is standing completely, when he takes a step back, when his smile falters sadly, when he finally breaks their eye-contact, Jonghyun feels the chain snaps, coming undone, falling and clattering noisily when they crash to the ground. His throat is closing in once again and loneliness is spear of ice, skewering his heart in one, ruthless throw. Jonghyun gasps when the loss settle inexorably in his bones, finding home in his marrow.

Apparently, he is also making a distressed noise with his throat because Kibum whirls back immediately and gathers him to his embrace, burrowing Jonghyun’s face to his chest, letting him listen to that strong, comforting beat of Kibum’s heart. “You will be fine, you will be good, okay?”

Jonghyun nods mutely, sighing in relief as his body blazes alive once again. “Okay,” his voice is shaky. Breathing Kibum in, Jonghyun tries to find a stable ground the one where he doesn’t have to wobble on his undependable legs. “Okay. Fine. I’m sorry- Oh God-”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine, don’t worry. You’re tired,” Kibum rubs comforting hand along his back, emanating and injecting life to Jonghyun’s half-alive body. “That’s why you have to sleep, okay? Promise me you will sleep?”

Jonghyun shoves down his sob and forcibly peels the grime of depression from his skin, flush down the thick, congestive toxic of woe from his blood. He needs to be strong, for Kibum, for himself. Inhaling deeply, he replies, “I will. I promise.”

Kibum pats him, once, twice, then he eventually let go. Jonghyun’s heart cries out in agony but his lips are curled into reassuring smile, eyes bleeding his love for Kibum to see. The younger sees it, he smiles back tenderly, lush forest of infatuation and affection. “See you on stage?”

“Yeah,” Jonghyun muses, heart teetering on the edge and hand threatening to reach out to reclaim Kibum back in his bound. He acts on neither. “See you.”

And with one last lingering gaze, Kibum slips out the room, Woohyun and his manager following behind him.

Jonghyun's manager opens his mouth, ready to say something but Jonghyun moves like he’s struck by lightning, seizing his phone by the hand and fumbles to type as fast as possible.

Will you post it on instagram???

The answer comes almost immediately; do you want me to?

Jonghyun bites his lips, unsure. It’s dangerous. Too many to risk. But; do you?

Another text bubble pops up in less than a second, butterfly flutters in his stomach. I do.

“And you, young sir,” his manager speaks, loud and authoritative. Jonghyun grins apologetically at him. “Need to get ready as well.”

Jonghyun puts his phone away but not before typing his final answer; and I do, too.

:::

Jonghyun doesn’t open his phone again until ten thirty, because he is dutiful, because he is good, and because Kibum told him to sleep. And sleep he did, in his car, but it was enough to make him feel refreshed after the almost lack of sleep the previous day. When he unlocks his phone, he is notified with many of messages; from Kibum, his sister, Onew, some other, but he taps one name first, grin blooming on his lips.

It’s from Woohyun, the first one reads;

I can’t believe you two are flirting, oh my god,

Jonghyun giggles, he reads another ones;

I thought that one in the waiting room was worse, but, ugh,

Did he just implied that your song is about him????

you two are shameless,

impossible. Whatever, good luck, man!

There’s about an hour of time gap until Woohyun sent another text;

.

, I can’t believe he posted that.

I regret

Ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff

I’m trying to do damage control here, okay????? I told Kibum too!

Why did I even suggest that, oh my God

anyways, you better thank me! I’m trying to do some damage control here!!!!

Thank me! Write me a song!

Good luck on your radio! Man, get some sleep, you look like a walking dead, hyung TT

Love ya <3

Don’t tell Kibum!! keke

Jonghyun hides his giggle with the neck of his shirt, wrenching it up until it’s covering half his face. He types; Good luck <3, then closes the message with Woohyun. His fingers hover over his sister’s and Onew’s names before sliding down to tap on Kibum’s instead.

A smile slips into his face, tired, but he feel incredibly loved. There are three text from Kibum; two long and the very last one short. They read;

I posted it kekeke you better catch some sleep, okay? :< I’m going to send the pic later! Don’t make it your wallpaper! Sleep!

OH MY GOD, WE PROBABLY JUST KILLED OUT ENTIRE FANS. FORGIVE ME. WOOHYUN GOT HIS PANTS ON FIRE whatever, you better see ;) By the way, my show is starting, I gotta go!

Luv you, babe <3

In the end there is an attachment. Jonghyun taps ‘download’ and watch the bar filled completely blue before popping out a new window. His whole phone screen is filled with picture of him and Kibum on his laps, snug and comfy in each other’s hold. He looks tired, so is Kibum. Jonghyun knows people will probably speak, throwing their thoughtless and heartless word to the two of them, but screw them. They look happy, pleased, a thoroughly enjoyed ephemeral moment of intimacy.

With heavy heart, Jonghyun closes his gallery and types his reply. Short, quick and simple, unlike their relationship, but it’s like their feelings, straightforward and can be easily summarized;

Luv you too <3