"Don't take this the wrong way, Jonghyun, but I don't think this is the best idea."

Jinki looks completely unperturbed as he sticks an obnoxiously bright red straw into his second iced coffee of the day, but Jonghyun hears that tone in his voice – the one he always seems to use with Jonghyun when he is positive the boy is about to do something completely stupid or utterly reputation-risking. Needless to say, it was a tone that Jonghyun had become extremely familiar with since befriending Jinki years before.

Jonghyun debuted as a solo singer in early 2008, all too quickly stealing the hearts of pre-pubescent teenage girls and love struck twenty-somethings with his good looks, chiseled biceps, and singing prowess. He wrote his songs and could dance, too, which he guesses was a huge plus. With most his trainee friends having given up on their idol dreams or fading into the background of the ever-changing landscape of the Korean music industry, Jonghyun did not have many friends who stood in the spotlight.

At least until he met Jinki.

Or, more accurately, heard Jinki humming to the chorus of his third hit single in the communal men's bathroom of the Music Bank studio. Jinki, also a soloist and the resident ballad crooner of Korea, had debuted a year before Jonghyun. It had become pretty evident that Jonghyun was a big fan when, upon hearing a urinating Jinki's velvety voice fill the bathroom walls to the tune of a composition Jonghyun recognized as his own, the boy had barged out of a cubicle he had willingly locked himself in, much to Jinki's surprise. Jinki was, in fact, so surprised, that his pee ended up spraying onto places it never should have reached.

As life would have it, the two have been inseparable since, with Jonghyun composing songs for Jinki, Jinki featuring in Jonghyun's last title track, and the two having the occasional night out with their uber famous model friend, Choi Minho, who Jonghyun had initially trained with to become the country's new breed of idols.

"Hyung," Jonghyun, in between whining and persuading, says, "I need this. For my own emotional well-being." Jonghyun has got his cup of black coffee in a paper cuff nestled in between his fingers and thumb. He had invited Jinki out for morning coffee to tell him about the concept behind his latest foray into songwriting, and realized a little too late that he should have expected this reaction from his best friend.

"I fail to see how airing out the bad feelings you have about your failed relationship by writing a song for a girl who looks exactly like your ex is benificial to your emotional health."

Although Jonghyun loves Jinki and recognizes the undeniable fact that the older boy has a much better sense of judgment than he could ever hope to have, he feels like he is doing the right thing. His feelings are unsettled, so he wants to put them to rest the best way he knows how: writing a song about them. Having Kim Yerim, a ridiculously talented vocalist who shares an uncanny resemblance with his ex-girlfriend, be the one to sing the song will give him all the closure he needs.

"Of course you don't get it, Hyung. But look, I've already got the song written, and I wrote it with Yerim-ssi's voice in my head."

"And with Sekyung's face in mind," Jinki adds, unimpressed.

Jonghyun makes a straight face.

"Shut up, Hyung. Besides, I've already texted their CEO about it." Jonghyun shrugs. "We're set to meet with the team tomorrow."

Jinki shakes his head in disbelief. "And here I was, thinking you'd actually come to me for advice before doing anything. Didn't you learn your lesson the last time, when the surprise party you insisted on throwing for Minho went wrong?"

"Hey, that was beyond my control. It's not my fault Minho likes to walk around his house stark ."

〰  〰  〰

Contrary to popular belief, Jonghyun isn't always a humorous , and is completely capable of being self-aware. However, his self-awareness has the unfortunate trait of striking only in hindsight, which leaves him second-guessing himself and considering calling Jinki when he stands is front of the Mystic89's company building, Kim Yerim's building.

('The Sekyung lookalike's building,' he hears a voice that sounds remarkably like Jinki's whisper in his head, but he promptly silences it.)

So maybe writing a song about a break-up that the media had spread news of like wildfire isn't the best idea. Jonghyun can't help but think that the public knows the truth, though, so they could never actually pin the song (and his partially self-absorbed tactic of choosing Sekyung's doppelgänger to sing it) to him or his past relationship: Dispatch, and several other celebrity news sites after them, reported that he and top actress-slash-model Shin Sekyung had broken up six months ago after almost a year of dating happily due to conflicting, overloaded schedules. Jonghyun sometimes still finds himself wishing the truth ended there.

They were in love, Jonghyun moreso. They were the ideal workaholic celebrity couple: in love with their jobs and with each other, going on the occasional public date, having more frequent ones in cars and dive bars and speakeasies hidden away from the surveillance of the media. With an attractive girlfriend who made him happy, was shorter than him even in heels, and who gave him concrete inspiration to write his sappy love songs about, Jonghyun couldn't be happier, couldn't ask for more.

At their seventh month mark, Jinki had asked Jonghyun whether he was in denial. Sekyung constantly cancelled dates and hung up on his calls. No, he would say; she's a celebrity, too – what could he do?  The answer: nothing. She was busy, but as it turned out, she was also bored.

This truth became much more evident when their relationship turned dry at month ten. Hardly ever together and completely absent when they were, Sekyung had somehow become an empty vessel right before his eyes. He knew, but he was afraid. He was in love, still in love with the girl who would look at him with soulless eyes and say she loved him like it was an obligation and not the truth. A couple of months of rough tides and tension could never compare to seven months of love, he would tell himself. He attempted to salvage whatever was left of their connection, even when Jinki asked him the same question from months back a second time.

He was in denial. And he was dumped.

But he was forgiving.

He could never bring himself to hate Sekyung, not when she was the living, breathing personification of all the things he (used to) love, the subject of his sweetest songs and the source of the most overwhelming happiness he had the luxury of ever feeling. So they stayed friends, even when she broke things off the day before the first day of Jonghyun's concert tour, even when news of her seeing another man surfaced a couple of months later.

He can't stop loving her, as a friend or whatever they are now, but he cannot stop the feelings, those uneasy, unsolved emotions pooling in his stomach and b in his chest from scratching the surface.

"I've got complicated feelings; shoot me," he mumbles to himself as he steps through the building doors. If this is going to finally clear his mind, then so be it.

〰  〰  〰

Yoon Jongshin, the bespectacled and highly respected founder, CEO, and resident producer of Mystic89, welcomes Jonghyun with his coiffed hair and open arms as the boy enters the studio. “Welcome, Jonghyun-ssi,” he says loudly, reaching for Jonghyun’s hand and shaking it firmly. Jonghyun reciprocates his grin, bowing at the waist before releasing the older man’s hand. It had been too long for Jonghyun to put a date on when they had last seen each other – the last he could remember was when they were both regulars on some music-related talk show aptly entitled “Music Show” on KBS.

The two sit across one another near a desktop and mixing equipment as the rest of Jongshin’s production team crowds around them at a comfortable distance.

“Yerim will be here in a few minutes; she’s coming from rehearsing the choreography for her title song,” Jongshin tells him. Jonghyun raises his eyebrows, a little surprised. Despite what Jinki insists on thinking, his interest in penning a song for Yerim didn’t stem purely from her looks – she has a covetable voice and an unmistakable timbre that had been a perfect fit for all the past tracks, most of which were slow ballads, that she had released as a solo artist. Jonghyun is sure he had mentioned at least once on his radio show that she is blessed with the talent to sing across genres, but to have a dance song as her title track? He finds himself pleasantly surprised.

“She’s going to dance?” Jonghyun asks, a polite smile playing on his lips. “I look forward to it, hyung-nim.” When a completely fatherly look (far more endearing than the way Jonghyun’s company president would smile whenever their agency’s artists are complimented) takes over Jongshin’s face, Jonghyun cannot help but smile as well, ruffling what is still revealed of his hair under his stark white snapback. Jongshin tells him, “She’s working hard,” before turning the attention back to Jonghyun. “I’ve listened to your demo, by the way, and it’s perfect. Almost as if it’s tailor-made for Yerim. We don’t have any other tracks apart from the title and this song set in stone yet, so I can’t assure you what track number it’ll be on the actual album.”

“I’m not really particular with that kind of stuff, Hyung-nim, so that’s fine by me.” Jonghyun’s only concern as far as the song goes is making sure it’s produced to perfection and that it clears his metaphorical of all the metaphorical ty feelings stuck in it.

Jongshin smiles, and Jonghyun wonders how his staff hasn’t been blinded by his pearly whites that seem to gleam into his eyes. “I do know you’re particular about your music, though. And your lyrics, they’re very well-written. I’m glad you reached out to me about this song.” Jonghyun is curious as to whether the man is just loose with giving compliments (it isn’t the first time he’s made his admiration for Jonghyun’s musicality known), or if he really means it. Hoping it’s the latter, he bows his head at an angle in thanks.

As if by some perfectly-timed coincidence, Yerim walks in as he raises his head and he immediately takes to his feet. As she steps closer, Jonghyun quickly comes to the conclusion that although she does look like Sekyung, the resemblance is not nearly as major as Jinki thinks. Right off the bat, though, he notices a thousand similarities: Yerim’s dark locks cascade down her shoulders and her back the same way Sekyung’s wavy hair would on those lazy mornings after, they have the same cherry-coloured pout, and are about the same height, which means that he wouldn’t have to worry about piling up his insoles before visiting the studio – unless of course, he would hang out with Minho after recording.

At Jongshin’s signal, Jonghyun goes into an in-depth explanation of the track he had written, turning towards the production team from time to time to check for questions. He does his best to sound professional, impersonal, while he discretely tells the story of his break-up to someone who looks like the girl who dumped him months back. It isn’t too much of a challenge, considering he is technically past Sekyung and, in spite of the damage she dealt, isn’t in love with her like he used to be. But he knows himself and how emotional and fragile he can be, and the last thing he wants is that side of him showing itself to a renowned musician, a vocalist, and a group of strangers he had just met today.

Sometimes he wishes he weren’t so damn temperamental, or that he'd somehow find love again in the ruin Sekyung had left behind.

“The couple grows weary of each other, bored of their relationship,” Jonghyun explains when he is sure he has everybody’s attention again. “They lose whatever sparks they had, so Yerim-ssi’s got to sing it with an indifferent voice. To make it sound like the woman is completely detached.”

Yerim’s brows are furrowed in understanding and Jongshin, for some reason, has still got a smile plastered on his face. Jonghyun comes up with two possibilities: he is either just really happy to have Yerim sing his composition, or he went completely ham with the botox shots one of his celebrity friends had sworn the man was addicted to getting.

Willing himself to stay on topic, Jonghyun continues. “I actually sent the lyrics over e-mail the other day? They’re subject to change, of course, if there’s something you don’t like, but I think they’re able to express the message of the song the way they are.”

Jongshin claps his hands together. “Why don’t we all listen to the guide track Jonghyun-ssi recorded while we read over the lyrics?” Jonghyun agrees; if this whole throng of people is willing to help out, he is definitely open to it.

“Kibum-ah.” Jongshin calls out towards the group of musical staff surrounding them. “Do you have the copies of the lyrics we asked you to prepare?”

A good two seconds of silence takes over, until a starry-eyed, pale-skinned kid who Jonghyun thinks looks a little too skinny and too pretty to be a boy in his late teens, raises his voice. “Kibum-hyung has them; he says he’s running from the Gangnam-gu station now.”

Jongshin makes a face, and turns to Jonghyun, seemingly ready to apologize.

And as if on cue, a boy who Jonghyun, with good reason, assumes is the Kibum they were talking about, runs into the studio, not quite sprinting but unquestionably breaking into a sweat. He has his bag slung across his frame, a stack of papers pressed to his chest, and an overwhelming presence that seems to take over the room – Jonghyun included – in spite of his being, according to Jonghyun’s guess, an intern at the company.

Boy-who-may-be-Kibum bows toward Jongshin apologetically, but the man does not miss the opportunity to make a side-comment. “You sure know how to make an entrance, Kibum.”

Ah, so he is Kibum.

“Sorry, sajangnim,” boy-who-is-Kibum says, sounding genuinely apologetic as he straightens up. Jonghyun catches Jongshin giving the boy a look, and almost immediately, Kibum bows toward him. “Jonghyun-nim, I’m sorry I’m late.”

Naturally, Jonghyun says it’s alright, we were just getting started. Naturally, Kibum straightens up again.

And naturally, their eyes meet.

Oh. Jonghyun is met with an imperfect brow, eyes bearing circle lenses, and pouty lips. And flawless, flawless skin. He does not know how long his eyes stay locked on to Kibum’s, but when the younger boy averts his gaze not much later, he realizes it may have been longer than necessary.

“Let’s distribute the lyrics, Kibum,” Jongshin says, and immediately, the younger gets to work. The guide track begins to play when Kibum hands Jonghyun a lyric sheet that he technically doesn’t need. Jonghyun gives him a million-watt smile, the boy simply nods out of reflex and turns to the rest of the team.

〰  〰  〰

Throughout the slow progress of their song discussion and recording that night, Jonghyun discovers a few things:

First, Jongshin wants him to produce the track, which is a lot of pressure but also really, life-crushingly flattering. So flattering,in fact, that Jonghyun felt the need to talk about it with Jinki, and Minho in their strictly bros-only Kakao chatroom right after.  As expected, top model Minho ignores him. Jinki, on the other hand, responds not a minute later: "Yeah! Now go kick your bad feelings in !"

Second, Jonghyun discovers that the company has two current interns: one of whom is Taemin, fairy-like kid named who disclosed Kibum’s whereabouts, and the scene-stealing Kibum himself.

Third, Yoon Jongshin is extremely obvious with his biases. Judging by the way he has bossed Kibum around for the entirety of the evening, Jonghyun deduces that he either has some twisted sort of erted crush on Taemin, or thinks that Kibum is a terrible person and therefore hates his guts. Jonghyun hopes it’s neither.

Fourth, the staff of Mystic89 are either starved to death by their company president or had all gone on a week-long fast before meeting up for recording. By midnight, Jonghyun had heard at least four stomachs growling, and decided that for these poor people’s sake, he had to do something.

“Delivery’s here!” Jongshin announces upon hearing the distinct ding-dong-ding-dong of the company entrance from their doorphone. “Could you go get the door, Kibum-ah?”

Ah, the fifth thing Jonghyun learns that evening: Kibum is extremely snarky, but also extremely hardworking. A sharp look seems to play on his features all the time, and considering Jonghyun could feel his personality from across the room, he definitely had not expected the boy to be so dedicated to fulfilling all the mundane tasks he’d been given.

But, despite Jonghyun’s expectations, Kibum goes, rushing out the door with his elegant stride and swaying hips.

"Wow, all that for yourself?" Jonghyun laughs, a lame excuse for small talk when he coincidentally runs into Kibum, who he finds adding liberal amounts of pepper and soy sauce to three bowls of delivery noodles when he enters the ridiculously spacious pantry.

Kibum looks over his shoulder and gives Jonghyun a look that is cautious, probably due to Jonghyun's idol status, but so obviously full of attitude, almost like he's asking him, "Are you serious?" without really asking.

Jonghyun would be lying if he said he didn't find it the slightest bit y.

"None of these are mine, but I'm sure you know that already," Kibum tells him, returning to his task.

"I ordered more than enough for everyone, though?"

"I know. Thanks, by the way. But interns eat last." Jonghyun hears the stress dripping from his voice, and something about Kibum's tone makes him want to give him a hug. Who wouldn't be that stressed, though, after an entire evening of "Kibum-ah, get the new set of instrumental samples in the drive in my office," or "Kibum-ah, look for Jungchi and Seyoon, quick," or "Let's try not to slack off when the whole team's busy, okay, Kibum?"

"Let me help you carry those," Jonghyun offers, admittedly feeling like quite the gentleman.

Kibum looks past him, at the bowl of noodles sitting on the counter next to Jonghyun. "You have your own to take care of."

Jonghyun picks up the said bowl with one hand and raises his free hand with a smile he knows is pretty attractive in the hopes of getting a reaction from Kibum. He isn't disappointed when the boy flashes him a little smile and hands over a bowl.

The rest of the night goes smoothly: Jonghyun and Jongshin laying the base track and working out the kinks in its loops, Jonghyun and Yerim practicing their harmony, and eventually recording the hook with unsurprising perfection They wrap up a little before 2AM, and by then, the number of people left working in the studio had decreased drastically. Even Jongshin had left, but Jonghyun figures it's understandable, after all, he had left Jonghyun in charge with most his staff at the boy's disposal.

"Good work today, guys," Jonghyun announces, lifting his cap to ruffle his hair before laying it back on his head. "I hope you aren't too tired." With one last bow, he grabs his bag (or his man-purse, according to a named Minho) and leaves.

〰  〰  〰

"Are you going to tell me why you have that dopey look on your face now, or do I have to wait for you to tell me when I'm actually getting work done?"

Jonghyun, who spins himself around on Jinki's computer chair, comes to a quick stop when his friend's voice registers in his head. He turns to Jinki and finds him with his eyebrows slightly raised in question and lips pursed just enough for Jonghyun to recognize that, ah, it's another one of Jinki's looks. Those looks that Jonghyun knows by heart and could probably draw off memory if his drawings were the kind that most people could appreciate.

“So, are you going to tell me? And does whatever is making you put on that face have anything to do with why you cancelled on Minho last night?"

"Technically, it was this morning. And I didn't cancel, I rescheduled. Naturally Minho makes me look like the bad guy.”

Jinki, in spite of holding the title of being the nicest and most moral person Jonghyun knows, can sometimes be a , too. Jonghyun is reminded of this when the older boy completely disregards him and asks, “So, why’d you cancel?”

In typical immature fashion, Jonghyun pouts, resorting to reaching for Jinki’s desk to get some leverage before spinning on his chair once again. Sometimes he wonders why he is even friends with Jinki and Minho in the first place.

“Jonghyun, look, you need to leave in five minutes. I’ve got to record for my-”

“Fine, I’ll tell you!” Jonghyun cries out, coming to an abrupt stop and all too dramatically throwing his arms into the air. He sinks back into his seat and feels a grin crawl onto his lips. “I met someone during the recording.”

“Please tell me you aren’t talking about Yerim. This is a vicious cycle in the making,” Jinki says with incontestable concern. “Your ideal type is starting to become really obvious, and I’m a little worried this might be going overboard?”

“Hyung,” Jonghyun interrupts, hand on Jinki’s knee to stop the older boy. “It’s a guy.”

“Oh. Okay.” Jinki lets out a deep breath, and Jonghyun isn’t sure whether it’s out of worry or relief. Judging by the way Jinki seems to breathe easy, though, he guesses it’s the latter. “So, who is this guy?”

Jonghyun explains, in considerably precise detail for someone who had just met him the night before, who Kim Kibum is, from the conversation-starting chip in his brow to the delicate swing of his hips to his obvious perfectionism towards his job, in spite of Jongshin’s evident favoritism towards Taemin.

After recording had finished that morning, Kibum had exited the building just in time for Jonghyun to see him sit by the front steps. “I wasn’t spying on him – okay, maybe I was, but I wasn’t being a creep or anything. It was just weird for someone to stay there, you know? And completely unsafe, considering the time. And he kept looking at his watch, so I figured he was waiting for someone or something.”

“And so you approached a total stranger?”

“He wasn’t a total stranger by then; we had a pretty good conversation over noodles in the pantry. And I approached him because I was curious.”

When Jonghyun had spotted Kibum, the intern had his bag with him, noticeably filled to the brim, and an absurdly thick stack of sheets that reminded Jonghyun of all the readings he was forced to do in their useless high school literature class, cradled in his arms. It’s 2:30AM, what the heck is he doing?, he thought.

He decided to find out, cautiously approaching Kibum. The boy heard him from a few steps away, and when Kibum looked his way, Jonghyun raised a hand in greeting. “Why haven’t you headed home yet?” Jonghyun asked, taking a seat on the step beside the intern.

“I could ask you the same. Don’t you have a schedule or desperately need sleep?” Kibum craned his neck to look at Jonghyun, who simply shrugged off the question. He had pre-recorded his radio broadcast for that morning and had never been much of a sleeper anyway, which meant that the only obligation he had to attend to was a ridiculously tall, ridiculously handsome friend in the form of Choi Minho. Without Jonghyun speaking up, Kibum took the initiative to answer that yes, he had obviously not headed home yet, and that there were no trains running at such an ungodly hour.

“Wait, what? You do know the trains don’t open for another three hours, right?”

Kibum nodded, clutching his papers closer to his hoodie-clad torso. “The building’s already closed, so it’s not like I can wait inside.”

“You can’t wait out here, though!” Jonghyun told him, genuinely concerned. When his eye caught the glint of disappointment contradicting the cold front painted on the other’s – very attractive – face, he quickly followed the strange tug in his chest and cancelled his plans.

“Let me bring you home.”

〰 〰 〰

Jonghyun likes to proclaim himself many things: suave captor of the fragile hearts of teenage girls, former owner of a body fit for a Greek god (he finds he’s gotten far too skinny for his own liking after his unfortunate car accident in 2013, and has been working diligently over the past month to get his bulkier build back), and the wielder of vocal technique so adaptable and so smooth it could make thousands of Seoul’s female inhabitants wet themselves in admiration. The most important self-proclaimed title he bears, though, is that of his unfaltering determination to accomplish his goals in clear-cut perfection. His songs don’t always end up being widely recognized musical feats, but he has established himself and has always made up for what he lacks in results with resolute effort.

This is the explanation he gives Jinki when the older boy interrogates him about why he bothers to drop by the Mystic89 building two days after the initial recording, when he and Jongshin had set no formal meetings for the day. “Hyung, I have to get feedback on the re-arrangement I did,” he explains over the phone, pulling over in the company parking lot. “It’s always more effective in person.”

“You re-arranged sixteen bars of the bridge, Jonghyun–”

“And added an interlude and changed the main piano riff!”

“Okay, yes, but you sent the demo through e-mail,” Jinki interrupts Jonghyun’s attempt to interrupt him. “You could always just use Kakao or something. It kind of sounds like you’re just looking for reasons to run into that Kibum kid.”

“That’s not true,” Jonghyun says, scandalized. “Okay, so maybe I’m going twenty percent for Kibum, but eighty percent for the song. No, maybe forty for Kibum, but the chances I’ll even run into him are so slim it doesn’t even matter. Besides, their building is on the way from the company anyway,” which isn’t exactly a lie. SM and Mystic Entertainment are both in Gangnam, only that the latter is on the other side of the district. Still not completely a lie, he convinces himself.

Jonghyun can almost imagine Jinki shrugging from across the line, which he guesses is a long-term result of their six-year friendship. “Whatever you say then,” Jinki tells him. “I’ve got to run, my coordi-noona is getting pissed that I always take so long on the phone with you.”

“Totally not my fault, hyung!” Jonghyun says, hanging up and making his way into the building.

By the time Jonghyun settles the final arrangement with the company’s resident pianist and sound technician – staccato chords here, a few disc scratches to complement the legato notes there, and a subtle transition to a heartbreaking largo at the very end – it’s well past seven o’ clock, meaning two things: Roo is being fed a hearty dog food dinner by his mother at home, and it’s time for him to head back to his apartment to pack for his early morning flight to Jeju the following day. He starts to gather his belongings, which are really just his beloved cracked-screen cellphone bearing his equally beloved sister’s face as its wallpaper, and his car keys, and readies himself to say his goodbyes when Kibum walks in. He gives Jonghyun a casual bow and takes graceful steps towards the nearest shelf to put his bag away. Jonghyun gives him a hello and allows his eyes to skim over the boy’s form as he walks by. Kibum sports a loose-fitting t-shirt with his sleeves folded up to the middle of his bicep and a pair of sleek drawstring track pants, which equates to a much more laid back combination than the dark-washed skinny jeans and structured hoodie-windbreaker hybrid he wore the last time Jonghyun had seen him.

“Where’d you come from?” Jonghyun asks, plopping down on the bean bag beside the shelf Kibum stands in front of. He glances up at the boy, who adjusts his shirt at the shoulders, grabbing the material with his forefinger and thumb to reposition it comfortably. “Dance class. And you?”

“Popped in for a little arrangement fixing.”

“Ah, and are you all done?”

Jonghyun nods, mentioning the little tweaks they had made to the song over the course of three hours. He invites Kibum, who had apparently come in to work for the sole purpose of fulfilling his last few hours of required residency for the week (“It’s an internship thing,” he sighs), to sit with him. The boy looks around cautiously, presumably for Jongshin and all the higher-ups he should be guarded around, and settles on the floor pillow across the singer when he is sure the coast is clear.

“You seem a lot more laid-back today,” Jonghyun says. “It’s nice, after seeing you so high-strung on Tuesday.” Kibum sort of wrinkles his nose before speaking in a way Jonghyun could only describe as heart-wrenchingly adorable. “I’ve got to impress,” Kibum says. “I’m not here to mess things up for myself.”

He has drive, and Jonghyun admits he finds it y.

He makes the most of his chance to ask Kibum about his internship, from what the mundane tasks he seems to complete impeccably to whether or not he actually gets to help produce music, genuinely interested in getting to know more about the boy. He finds out that Kibum gets assigned to do the little things nobody else seems to want to do – “I’ve gotten at least four paper cuts in the past month from photocopying and burnt once because Taemin bumped into me while I was making cup noodles for everybody,” the younger recounts – and that the boy had only been asked for his opinions on actual music twice throughout his three-month stay with the label. Jonghyun purses his lips and nods slowly, not wanting to say anything to make any reckless comments around somebody with a personality like Kibum’s. Instead, he says, “You’re, like, the busiest intern I’ve ever met.”

When Kibum responds with a bitter nod, the singer asks, “Why doesn’t Taemin seem to have as much on his plate as you do? Just curious, since you were going back and forth the last time I saw you guys, but he hardly had to do anything.”

“Ah,” Kibum remarks, a knowing look coming over his face like he had been waiting, positive the question would come up eventually. “Taemin is a musical prodigy,” the boy says in a tone Jonghyun finds too casual to take seriously. “That’s why sajangnim loves him, and gives me most of the dirty work. I’m serious,” Kibum stresses, probably seeing the way Jonghyun’s eyebrows are furrowed in disbelief.

“Now when you say musical prodigy…”

The intern runs a hand through his flawless black locks and puts on this strangely attractive smirk. “Ever see that viral video of a six-year old playing a Liszt piece mashed up with one of Chopin’s etudes?”

Jonghyun nods, of course he had seen it. It had been the spark that ignited his desire to go to a piano academy as a nine-year old child. He never lasted very long, though, always being more of a singer-slash-songwriter-slash-amateur-guitarist, but the video had left an impact on him, and his mother who harbored futile hopes that her son would become a master pianist, regardless.

“That was him.”

“No !” Jonghyun says, jaw dropping and eyes opening so widely he thinks Kibum might just be laughing at how ridiculous he looks. “That Taemin kid is that six-year old piano god?”

“Was,” Kibum nods, smile rendering his eyes into crescents and his cheekbones glass-sharp weapons angled dangerously high up his beautiful face, “Contrary to popular belief, he isn’t six anymore.” He seems to enjoy seeing Jonghyun lose his mind because Oh my God, talk about being belatedly starstruck.

“Holy ,” Jonghyun grunts when he finally comes down from his surprised high, pressing a firm palm to his jaw. “My mouth hurts from shock. Like, I didn’t even know that was possible, but it does. That was some brand new ing information, Kim Kibum.”

The said boy laughs, running a hand through his dark locks. Jonghyun’s eyes instinctively follow, hoping he doesn’t look too weird as he watches soft white fingers sifting through and contrastng against the dark strands of Kibum’s hair. “So yeah,” Kibum says with a heavy breath. He’s still got a smile on his face and cheek in his voice, but Jonghyun doesn’t miss the dejection that lies under it. “Taemin’s a child genius. Can’t really blame Jongshin-hyung for liking him so much.”

“You’re great, too, though!” Sometimes he wishes he could be as good a pep talker as his mother and sister, because the defeated smile on Kibum’s face tells him the other isn’t convinced.

“Thanks, Taemin says so all the time. It kind of , though, having to make up for my lack of natural talent with hard work.” The boy shrugs. “Life.”

Jonghyun wishes he knew what to say to the boy across him, not quite expecting such a heavy bomb to be dropped on his shoulders. He settles for telling the boy that he appreciates how honest he is, because he really doesn’t know what else to say. He, too, had gone through his fair share of hardship, and to say that Kibum would eventually, unquestioningly, get his shot at being Jongshin’s favorite would be a conscious lie.

“The world needs more people like you. Honest, unpretentious,” he says, meeting Kibum right in the eye and inwardly hoping he doesn’t sound like a flirt, even though he is one by nature.

“Isn’t it a little early for you to be calling me all those things?” The younger sounds dubious almost, but Jonghyun’s eyes do not miss the smile slowly reappearing on his lips. The singer ruffles his fringe, chuckling. “I have a talent for reading people. It’s a songwriter thing.”

“You know, you at cheering people up,” Kibum says pointedly, but the way his mouth is curved into a grin makes Jonghyun doubt that fact. Jonghyun takes that as his cue to make a 180-degree turn in their conversation, trying to and succeeding in finding common ground between he and Kibum. It takes him only ten minutes to find out that they both are huge ers for animated films, adore dogs of every kind, and are both closeted fans of that new all-female rap competition on Mnet, and Jonghyun finds himself thinking that conversations with Kibum are far more entertaining than any he’d had in a while.

“Okay, wait. ,” Jonghyun mutters when his eyes finally cross the oversized watch adorning his slim wrist. "I've really got to run, I need to fly to Jeju in a few hours and I haven't gotten anything ready. Uh, here, give me your number."

The words slip so naturally past Jonghyun's lips that neither he nor Kibum register what he says until he has his phone held out in front of the intern. He wonders if he really had not been quite as smooth as he had thought when Kibum looks at his phone with a questioning look, then up at him for much too short to be natural, then back down.

'Maybe he's shy? Or what if he can't afford a phone? ,' Jonghyun's mind skims the possibilities until the boy across him finally parts his delightfully pink lips to speak up.

"You're kidding, right?" Something in Kibum's tone, perhaps his ever-present attitude, tells Jonghyun that the boy definitely is not shy. He responds, both eager and a little confused. "Um, no? I mean, we're friends, right?"

Kibum's eyebrows arch upwards slightly. "I don't know about that."

"What do you mean? Don't you think we're hitting it off?" Jonghyun wonders if he sounds as genuinely lost on the outside as he does in his own head.

The way Kibum is looking at him, like the all the answers he is looking for are hanging right above his head, admittedly makes him feel a little stupid, but he doesn't complain; at least the boy's eyes are on him.

"Yeah, but we're hardly friends, Jonghyun. You're an idol; I'm a kid struggling to even nail this internship."

"When I'm off-stage, I'm just a regular guy, okay? And hey, I think you're pretty great as an intern. Even this coffee you made is kicking every cup of coffee I've ever made in the !"

"Thanks?" Kibum doesn't looked convinced and Jonghyun begins to feel like dead meat, considering the things his manager would do upon finding out he hasn't left yet. "Don't let the whole idol image faze you. We can be friends," Jonghyun explains.

Kibum listens intently with an incharacteristically soft expression housed in his sharp eyes and a rather distracting nibble to his small lower lip.

In this situation, Jonghyun knows three things for certain: Kibum is still hesitant (the reason is a little beyond him, but for the boy's sake he tries to see things in perspective); the intern knows he is being extremely truthful, what with the sincerity that drenches his words; and he is very, very late.

"Uh, here," Jonghyun grunts, reaching for Kibum's hand and drawing him closer by the arm. He hears the younger boy interrogate him, understandably surprised, but he shuts him up when he lunges forward slightly for the nearest writing tool, okay, a marker will have to do, and hastily scribbling his number down the pale expanse of the boy's forearm. "Think about it, and when you agree with me, send me a text. I'll reply anytime."

And with that, Jonghyun dashes out the studio, unable to stick around long enough to make sure whether Kibum is blushing or if he's just imagining things.

〰 〰 〰

It's one of those rare mornings when Jonghyun, Minho, and Jinki are all relatively free for the entire first half of the day, so in typical idol and former-trainee fashion, they make a beeline to the newest noraebang place in Dongdaemun well past 1 AM.

"You sure this is actually a decent place?" Jonghyun asks Minho, eyeing the seventies-themed soft posters that decorate the walls of their karaoke room.

Minho, who Jonghyun is convinced is busy being in fashion editorials and cringe-worthy yet strangely appealing couture advertisements every hour of the day besides the small, ungodly window between 1 to 4 AM, had orchestrated the entire meeting. "I don't know, some of the guys at the shoot the other day recommended it. Besides, we can't exactly go back to our usual place – not after Jinki-hyung got drunk and broke their sofa and half their plate supply."

Jinki laughs as he skims through the song catalog. The older boy had always told Jonghyun he couldn't remember what happened that night, but he really didn't have to: it's a well-established fact in the celebrity sphere that Lee Jinki, once drunk, would take to breaking dinnerware and wrestling the living breath out of anyone and everyone. Jonghyun had confirmed this fact for himself a few months after his and Jinki's first encounter in the bathroom, and although Jinki says he's exaggerating, he sometimes still feels the wake of the bruises the older had dealt on his body that day.

The three of them kick off the night with an upbeat pop song followed by a hip-hop classic Jonghyun and Minho had both learned to rap to as trainees, back when their agency insisted that they attempt to excel in every field possible. It does not take long before Jonghyun retreats to the comfort of the couch, stealing glances at his phone a little too often for his friends not to take notice of, even when completely engrossed in belting out to their childhood's greatest hits and the most recent girl group sensations.

"Hyung," Minho whines, settling next to the singer after an extremely passionate performance of Jonghyun's own song. "I know you chose to hang out with this kid over me, but seriously, your eyes have been glued to your phone for the past hour." Before Jonghyun can in at all to defend himself, Jinki interrupts, being no help at all. "Yeah, you even missed Minho's high note!"

"I was listening! Good job, by the way. But–"

"You're waiting for a text from your manager?" Minho says, disbelievingly. "We weren't born yesterday, hyung."

He easily throws an arm around Jonghyun's considerably smaller frame. "Hyung, don't you think you're a little too hung up on this guy? You're a top idol. You represent Korea and its talent and its unfortunately short genes." Minho barks out a strangely endearing laugh when Jonghyun glares at him before picking up with as much momentum as he left off, "Thousands of teenage girls would kill to get your number, but you're moping around because one guy won't text you back?"

Jinki presses the button fixed on the table before adding, "I'm calling a waiter to order spring rolls. But Minho's kind of right. You stopped singing after song number three and were completely out of it by the time Minho and I started singing JYP's songs."

"Well," Jonghyun spares Minho, who unexpectedly has quite an elaborate dating history, a look. "Not everybody is into getting with supermodels and hot actresses, okay.”

Without missing a beat, Jinki starts, “But Sekyung was–”

"Not a ing word, Hyung.”

〰 〰 〰

Jonghyun wakes up to the sound of Roo stomping her little paws across the foot of his bed and the feeling of being partially brain-dead the following morning. He slings his arm across his face, groan coming out as coarse and horrible as he feels. When his puppy instinctively makes her way towards him, settling her paws nice and easy on his chest for leverage to his face, he greets her a good morning and almost inaudibly mumbles something about how he never should have trusted a place that offered a suspiciously generous promo on their best-selling makgeolli bombs.

“I knew I never should have trusted Minho,” he groans, rubbing gentle circles on the surface of Roo’s head before reaching over to his night table for his phone with the intention of sending Minho a text about how his rights to suggesting new hangout spots are permanently revoked and searching for any incriminating evidence that would help him make sense of the blur of events that took place after their third round of drinks.

What he finds, though, is something much better.

Almost automatically, Jonghyun’s eyes light up at the sight of a text message from none other than Kim Kibum; a modest ‘Hi. - Kibum’ received twenty-two minutes before. He suddenly feels a lot less like death personified and a lot more like himself.

〰 〰 〰

“Could we try that again? A little slower this time.” Jonghyun has learned through personal experiences and his fair share of behind-the-scenes album footage and music-centric dramas that the calm producer is the best producer, and the kind of producer he wants to be. He is a perfectionist – “excessively nit-picky,” Jinki had told him the last time they had recorded something together – but he figures his criticism doesn’t hit nearly as hard when he lays mistakes out clearly and deals with artists patiently. It’s really all in the delivery, he figures, readying himself to listen to Yerim’s seventh attempt at singing over his rearranged interlude.

He realizes not everyone gets it, though, when he feels Kibum eyeing him throughout the evening. His ego tells him that it may just be his new hair color, an ashy dark blonde that does wonders for his appearance, but his common sense tells him otherwise: that Kibum may just be on the same boat as Jinki, branding him an extreme idealist when it comes to work. He decides to confirm his suspicions over dinner, when the senior staff are huddled around a laptop playing some new girl group music video with enough exposure to be dubbed as soft , and he settles beside two jaded interns slouching over their salad bowls.

“You guys look exhausted,” he huffs, resting his palms on the table in front of them. “Just what does Jongshin-hyung do to you?”

Taemin raises his head, just barely, to answer, “He made me handle a production software I knew nothing about. I almost erased everything from our recording last week.” Jonghyun cannot help thinking that with his eyes puffed up and thick lips jutting out into a pout like this, Taemin looks like some sort of precious child accidentally dropped onto Earth from heaven. He leans over and pats his head affectionately, falling futile to the cuteness he refuses to own up to.

“And you?” Jonghyun asks, turning to Kibum. “Same old?” The younger responds with a slow nod, groggy voice a treat to the singer’s ears when he groans, “I thought I’d be past all this stuff by now. Four, five months in and I still haven’t done anything directly related to producing music.”

Taemin, by now, is reduced to a scraggly mop of dark hair buried in his arms on the desk, but Jonghyun somehow understands  his muffled words. “Yeah, Kibum-hyung has it worse. He hasn’t even been allowed to play around with the equipment.”

“You guys should come to my studio tonight. It’s nothing big but I’ve got pretty much the same gear as we have here. I could let you try things out?” Jonghyun offers. If this is his chance to be Kibum’s knight in shining armor or whatever cliché male love interest his best friends would eventually call it, he’d take it.

Taemin shoots up straight in his seat, head turned to his fellow intern. “Hyung! Go for it. I can’t tonight because my parents are coming by early, but you should definitely go.”

And go he does. They finish recording a little past midnight, but Jonghyun insists they’ve got time. He’s got a full day of meetings with the company for his next album the next day and had been nagged yet again by his manager to get a full night of sleep in preparation for it, but the sight of Kibum innocently messing around with his equipment, turning back to him and searching for approval, somehow drowns out the need for any rest at all.

〰 〰 〰

Minho is tall, gorgeous, and altogether, a little bit of an overgrown baby. Jonghyun finds it endearing although he’d never admit it to Minho’s face, especially not when said boy is trying to force him into treating he and Jinki to drinks only a week after proving his horrible taste in noraebang.

“Come on, Hyung,” Jonghyun hears Minho say across the line of the phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder as he tries to maneuver his way through a new composition software he’d been intending to try out for the past year. “I hear your songs everywhere; don’t even pretend you don’t receive enough money in royalties.”

“I only get paid for those at the end of the year. And what about all the shows you walked for? Don’t try denying your talent fee spiked last season,” the singer hums, already foreseeing the end of this conversation: him ultimately succumbing to Minho and his bizarrely lovable whining.

MInho’s voice drops. “I only get paid for those at the end of the year.”

“You big, fat liar,” Jonghyun laughs, eliciting a loud bark of laughter from Minho in turn. “Fine,” he surrenders. “I’ll treat you guys. Though you should really start asking Jinki-hyung to treat us both.”

“Everybody knows he doesn’t make nearly as much as you do, Hyung. Be a little fair to the ballad singer.”

“Hey, I sing ballads, too.”

Jonghyun hears the younger chuckle and perfectly imagines his brows knitting together, million-dollar dimples making an appearance on what pretty much every relevant magazine in the country branded the most handsome face the previous year. “Yeah, power ballads, which you alternate with R&B tracks choreographed to body-rolling perfection. Do you really think that’s fair?” Minho asks playfully, and Jonghyun simply snickers, knowing he’s got a point.

“Yeah, whatever. Wait, today’s a Thursday?” he asks, gaze skimming over the top of his laptop screen. “Guess I won’t be seeing Kibum for a while. Next recording day’s on Wednesday.”

Minho doesn’t miss a beat, suggesting that Jonghyun bring the other boy with them for drinks that night.

“I didn’t get to ask him. I mean, would that count as asking him out?” Jonghyun sighs, leaning into his seat and letting his head hang over the back rest.

“Man up, Hyung, you know you’re going to ask him out eventually.”

“I guess… But I don’t wanna do it too soon. Uh, I need Jinki-hyung,” the vocalist groans, sinking further into the comfort of his chair.

Unlike Minho, who had jumped head-first into innumerable flings with girls he had hardly known for socially acceptable periods of time and elected to call them “relationships”, Jonghyun – contrary to popular belief – is less reckless with the word. So he does hook up with people and has found himself in more than a few awkward morning-after situations,is a little bit of a flirt, and has way more girl-space-friends than most guys, but he finds thrill in pacing himself and leaving a little time for romance to kick in on its own when it comes to actual boyfriend-girlfriend, or in this case, boyfriend-boyfriend stuff. The only time he’d taken the fast track and dove straight into relationship status was with Sekyung, and after that relationship, he swore to Jinki and the Michael Jackson poster he had hung up for some time in his living room that he would never do the same again.

“Hyung, it’s not too soon. It’s not even an actual date. Just ask him already so I can hang up on you.”

“You are a spoiled brat,” Jonghyun tells him, matter-of-factly. “And okay, even if I were to do it, I didnt get to ask him the last time, remember?

“Good thing you have his number, then. Text him.”

When Jonghyun hangs up and hastily types a casual invitation to Kibum over text, he’s reminded that Minho isn’t actually all that useless or annoying after all.

〰 〰 〰

Jonghyun is no stranger to dating, at least not after he had gotten his fair share of attention as a bassist in his high school days. He had been part of some Christian rock band his friends had invited him to join, in spite of the huge irony that lied in the fact that he was not, and is not, a Christian at all. It was all an experience though, what with his very first encounter with making music, the opportunity to learn to play the bass for the mere sake of it, and his first taste of fame after performing at an all-girls high school and becoming known as “the short, cute bassist from that surprisingly good school band across the street.” Not exactly the best nickname, but it had been the unexpected trigger that jump-started his love life, so he never really complained.

So, it’s pretty much fact: Minho is the tallest, Jinki the clumsiest, and Jonghyun, with the slew of three girlfriends that came along with his low-key high school glory and one serious relationship post-debut (also excluding the countless hook-ups before and after), has the most actual dating experience.

Another fact: Jonghyun, when romantically interest in somebody, is unknowingly obvious about it. Minho and Jinki had brought this to his attention several times in the past, but he had always tried to convince them otherwise – he’s as subtle as subtle gets – but when he finds himself with an arm easily draped around Kibum’s shoulders and his body angled at a noticeable incline towards the younger boy, he begins to think that they may be right.

He doesn’t let up, though, not backing away an inch unti Kibum forces him back to reach for his unnecessarily frilly cocktail on the table. Jonghyun thinks nobody can blame him, though; Kibum is gorgeous, smells like vanilla and fresh fruit, and is the object of his developing affection – as far as he’s concerned, almost the perfect foundation for falling in love.

Kibum, Jonghyun is reminded when the boy turns toward him, is equal parts adorable and y. “I still can’t believe I’m drinking with a model and a top-charting singer,” he says, just close enough for Jonghyun to feel him beaming, adorable exhilaration rivalling the deep rumble of his voice.

“Don’t think of them that way,” Jonghyun tells him. “We’re just regular guys.”

Minho, catching sight of Kibum’s now-empty glass, quickly orders him another. When the boy gives him a look, chipped eyebrow that Jonghyun finds extremely charming cocked upward, Minho simply laughs. “Night’s still young,” he says.

Kibum reciprocates, and Jonghyun thinks the sound of his laughter is nothing short of melodious. He suspects that Jinki finds it pretty adorable too, considering the pleasant look he throws Kibum’s way.

“So, Kibum,” Jinki starts, glass of his favorite red wine mere inches away from his lips, “How’s internship? I hear Jongshin-hyung can get kind of harsh. He seems nice, but I wouldn’t know what he’s like in the studio.”

“I wouldn’t call him harsh… More like bossy, maybe?” And with that, the other three at the table, all Jongshin’s acquaintances or juniors, break into smiles. “I’m serious, though!” Kibum continues, a grin finding its way onto his face at their reactions. “He gets me to do a lot of the little tasks, like the work nobody wants to do. I’ve been with Mystic for months, but if I were to say that I’ve done any actual production work, I’d be lying. Intern’s life, I guess.”

Jinki uses his holy grail to being branded the friendly, likeable one of the group – his signature nod-and-laugh combination – before raising his glass in a toast. “To the intern’s life?” he proposes, and with all the hard work he knows Kibum goes unrecognized for in mind, Jonghyun’s arm, glass in hand, raises up on instinct.

Jonghyun is pleased to find that all three of them –himself especially, of course – are incredibly taken to the one-of-a-kind, or as Jinki put it, “amusingly and forgivably y” creature that is Kim Kibum. Within an eventful four hours spent over an arsenal of abundant alcoholic drinks, Minho had discovered that the boy, in spite of his snark and his sass, is the perfect target for all his teasing and playful bullying, Jinki had developed a bottomless appreciation for his ingenuity and personality, and Jonghyun had been made even further aware of the truth that he is, pretty much, the perfect package.

The four of them, all considerably tipsy and far beyond the point of being able to drive, had agreed to share a cab back home after finally capping the night off. After opening his wallet and finding it void of cash the following morning, Jonghyun realizes that, in hindsight, it probably was not the best idea financially, but somewhere in the mess of their cloudy minds the previous night, it had made enough sense for them to go through with the idea.

They had all wordlessly settled that Kibum should be the first to be dropped off, and although the rid from the bar to his house was over in a short fifteen minutes, Jonghyun could not bring himself to mind after the younger leaned a heavy head against the curve of his shoulder and Jinki and Minho, naturally, resorted to making every lovey-dovey sound known to mankind after he had walked Kibum to his door.

〰 〰 〰

The final day of recording goes without a hitch on Thursday, the song ultimately achieving completion and satisfying Jonghyun’s high musical standards. Jonghyun treats the entire crew, Jongshin and Yerim included, to one last celebratory meal in the form of two stacks of delivery chicken and enough beer to quench the thirst of a small village.

He and one of the sound technicians of the company are having a conversation about their mutual friends Haesol and Ohhyuk, otherwise known as the hit maker Zion.T and Hyukoh’s awkward frontman to the public, when his eyes magnetically drift to a skinny jean-clad figure walking into the pantry. He quickly follows suit, and is glad to find Kibum attending to his own food and not some other person’s for once.

“You know,” Jonghyun starts in his smoothest, suavest voice, “I was thinking I’d ask you to the movies tonight. There’s a new animated one I’ve been wanting to watch, but I’ve got my radio show to record until two so I don’t think it’ll work out.” Kibum turns to him with a look on his face – playful, questioning, and oh so attractive – and a red cup of beer in hand.

Jonghyun is positive that the boy is about to leave without a word, which would be completely expected when factoring in Kibum’s cunning attitude, but the intern just refuses to be predictable, stopping for a split-second and mumbling close before walking by, “Yeah, but don’t worry, it would have been inappropriate to ask me out while I’m at work.” Jonghyun isn’t sure whether he’s smiling because Kibum has proven, once again, that he is just b with the kind of slyness Jonghyun so easily falls victim to or because the younger seems open to the idea of going on a date, but the squeezing he feels in his chest tells him it might be both.

〰 〰 〰

“Does anybody need a ride home?” Jonghyun asks everybody standing with him outside the building after they wrap up dinner and put a very drunk Jongshin to sleep in the safe, consoling confines of his office. When nobody takes him up on his offer, either politely declining or being too busy smoking or sipping on their last bottle to respond, he turns to Kibum, who is keeping himself occupied by fixing a slightly buzzed Taemin’s collar.

“Taemin’s brother is coming to pick us up,” Kibum tells him, running his fingers through the younger’s messy fringe in an attempt to make it look like the boy didn’t have more beer than his lanky little body could handle. “Thanks, though.”

Taemin’s less musically-inclined yet equally pretty older brother – Taesun, or something like that, according to one of the studio guys – arrives soon after, assisting his lightheaded sibling into the backseat of his car. Jonghyun waves his hand goodbye to them, ready to turn away in search of his own car, when he feels a hand, inhumanly smooth and a little hesitant, curl around his wrist.

“Tomorrow,” Kibum says when he circles around, voice soft enough for Jonghyun to know he’s the only one meant to hear. “My best friends and I are having dinner. It’s… nothing big or anything, but if you’re free, you can come along.”

Before Jonghyun can even fully process what had just happened, he hears himself say, “I’ll be there. Text me when you get home?” And not a second later, Kibum is smiling and riding off.

Something about the way he had gone from a mopey mess to being on cloud nine tells Jonghyun that the entire recording process had been a good one, and that maybe he had finally gotten the closure he was after. But when he says his goodbyes to Yerim, who strangely doesn’t seem to look like Sekyung all that much anymore, and realizes that there’s somebody else finding residence in the nooks and crannies of his mind, Jonghyun recognizes that he may have ended up with more than he had bargained for.

〰 〰 〰

Jonghyun is a little on-the-fence about what he feels when he sees a grand total of twelve people – Kibum’s presumable “best friends” – gathered around a makeshift surface, which is really three regular restaurant tables lined up to accommodate them all. While he had half-expected Kibum to be the popular type, he really hadn’t foreseen such an extent. In spite of the fact that Jonghyun had always been extremely choosy with the use of the best friend label, keeping it exclusive only to Jinki, Minho, and Sojin, who had stuck with him all throughout middle school and eventually became his go-to pianist-slash-composing partner, he decides it’s a pleasant thought and almost comforting to know that through all his internship-related struggle, the boy manages to keep his friends close.

The singer waves and breathes an easy hello when he enters the restaurant, smiling his way through the hoard of twenty-somethings, all of whom seem to be different enough from each other to leave him wondering how they had ever become friends, and finding his way to an empty seat beside Kibum. The younger takes the liberty of introducing him, even over the overlapping sounds of “Holy , it’s really Kim Jonghyun!”.

Although learning names had never been a strength of his, Jonghyun somehow manages to attach Woohyun, Mir, Nicole, Dongwoon, Min, and Soyou’s names to their faces. There are two more guys – one with slick jet black hair and a semi-ridiculous outfit on and another who Jonghyun guesses is an aspiring designer of some sort – whom Kibum says he is actually close to and not just acquaintances or mutual friends with, but Jonghyun, for the life of him, can’t seem to keep their names in mind. Part of him thinks he wouldn’t be having so much trouble if Kibum hadn’t leaned in too close and accidentally brushed his lips against his ear when trying to whisper their names a little earlier.

Regardless of the little barbecue house being half-filled by their group and the three people who join in right before dessert arrives, the group seems to come together seamlessly, a single unit welcoming Jonghyun like family. He instantly hits it off with Nicole who is an absolute breath of fresh air, and Jinwoon, who makes no effort whatsoever to hide his affection for her. Tiffany, Nicole’s fellow Korean-American friend who had moved from California the year before and still dons a foreign accent, is pretty good company too, but Jonghyun tries to overlook the fact that she seems to be extremely touchy and giggly. He wonders for a split-second whether she’s just naturally that way or if she’s putting on a flirtatious front with him, but Jonghyun can’t focus on her long enough to come to a conclusion, not when he sees Kibum look his way with kohl-lined eyes every now and then to make sure he has somebody to talk to.

Jonghyun realizes that evening that Kibum, with his already ethereal beauty and stunning bone structure, is ten times more dynamic, feral, and hard on-inducing with eyeliner on.

He arrives at another realization a little later that night, when he brings a particularly happy Kibum to his door and the boy kisses the breath straight out of him:

Falling in love with Kim Kibum doesn’t sound like a bad idea.