He woke up to food – or at least, the smell of food.

It was a nice change to the stench – he thought this with much malice to it, while alcohol was a pleasant companion to the night, Daehyun did not welcome it into his home in the morning after – of alcohol he was sure would be spreading throughout the room by morning. Daehyun had drunk more than he was willing to admit and was positive that he would see the after effects of it come sunrise. He smiled. It was nice – almost reminded him of home, where his mother would early morning cook for him to try to stir her youngest boy up.

Only, his mother could not cook.

(And Daehyun never was one to sleep in.)

And this was not his home back in Busan.

Not to mention – he most certainly lived alone.

Daehyun shot up, eyes wide and heart beating at his throat. Was it a burglar? Or perhaps a crazy fan that had managed somehow to get into his home – it would not, unfortunately, have been the first time it happened. Well, he certainly was not sleepy anymore.

He would have liked to think that he had imagined the scent – pancakes, strawberry – but gathering his thoughts again, it was impossible to mistake the scent.

.

His steps were quiet, careful, as he padded out of the room. Daehyun figured he ought to bring along a weapon – perhaps a bat or a golf club – and silently cursed his lack of time – interest – for sports. (He grabbed a slipper instead.) It certainly would not have hurt to have Junhong around; while the kid was not the scariest person out there, surely his massive size would have been enough to scare off anyone who did not know about him.

Double .

Why could he not have been as tall as the junior intern?

As Daehyun entered the living room, he was able to locate the cause of the scent to have come from the kitchen – of course! He crept closer, swallowing thickly.

There was someone there, in the kitchen.

And whoever it was, seemed too distracted over whatever he was doing at the stove to notice Daehyun sneaking behind him; perfect.

“You’re up.”

Or not.

He blinked, straightening up from his crouch as the man turned around with.. a frying pan? A well warmed frying pan with pancakes in it. Daehyun blinked.

The man rolled his eyes.

“Well, good morning to you too. Go sit down.”

Was this a dream? It felt like a dream.

(He pinched his cheek. It hurt.)

“Who are you?”

By all rights, Daehyun should have been scared. It could have been a stalker – someone who claimed was a fan, was really just too obsessed – or worse, but oddly enough, Daehyun found himself obeying the order, warily making his way toward the unused dining table and seating himself in a chair. It was, he argued, the lure of pancakes.

“Youngjae,” the intruder answered, as if that was supposed to connect any dots. “I took some of your aspirin, by the way. I would have asked you, but you were kind of dead asleep.”

Youngjae babbled on, bringing over a plate and dumping the pancakes from the pan onto the plate in a neat snack. (Daehyun was not drooling.) He went on casually, moving to bring over syrup and milk as well as a plate for himself. It was only after he had seated himself across from Daehyun that he noticed the artist had been staring.

“You don’t remember a thing, do you?”

Daehyun shook his head.

Youngjae sighed.

“I swear, I drank more than you and -,” he cut off, shaking his head. “I met you at the bar? I got in a fight with some weirdo, and you, being a intrusive weirdo, cut him off? Thanks by the way for that.”

Daehyun squinted. Oh. That Youngjae.

At the look of recognition that flickered through Daehyun’s expression, Youngjae laughed. “Now you remember.”

He nodded, taking a fork and stabbing a chunk of the pancakes to swallow down. Now that he knew who this stranger was – not a danger – he could safely dig in. “What was that for anyway? You never told me.”

“Okay, first of all, finish chewing before you talk – ew. And second, it’s a long story.”

Daehyun chewed; he even swallowed. “Give me a short version then.”

The look he got suggested him as a madman, but Daehyun shrugged. He was curious; and after what he had gone through the other night for this Youngjae, Daehyun figured he deserved to know.

“Short version,” Youngjae hummed, considering. He cut off a piece of his own pancake and chewed. It took another minute, with a sip of his milk, to continue. “Boyfriend broke up with me, I got pissed, and decided I was going to be stupid.”

He smiled, but it looked painful on his face.

“Ouch.”

“Ouch,” Youngjae agreed.

“Not sure how much it matters to you, but he probably didn’t deserve you.”

The boy laughed. It was not soft by any chance, but loud and obnoxious. His mouth opened when he did and his eyes pinched shut, head thrown back and hands coming to smack against the table; but it made Daehyun smile.

(Youngjae, he figured, was a genuine sort of person – the kind that could not lie if his life depended on it.)

“You’re just saying that.”

“Of course, I don’t even know you.”

And Youngjae laughed again. It was nice. Daehyun laughed along.

“You’re really something, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been told that once or twice in my life.”

By the time Youngjae had finished laughing, tears had gathered at the corners of his eyes and Daehyun swore another fit of laughter from the boy would mean the end of his dining table.

(But he was not too worried.)

“Well, you are mister big-shot celebrity.”

“That’s what you called me last night too.”

“I did?” For a moment, he thought Youngjae was joking around; the curious light in his eyes told him otherwise. “Did I say anything else last night?” Curiosity bled to panic and worry. “I say things I don’t mean when I’m piss-drunk. Just forget I said anything at all; I probably didn’t mean any of it.”

He laughed. It was a little too late now to worry about it, was it not? “You said that I have a y eyeball.”

“I did?” Daehyun nodded an affirmative. “Oh, maybe I wasn’t as drunk as I thought I was then.”

Youngjae stood up with his plate then, a questionable smile curling his lip. Daehyun stared.

He followed suit quickly after, stuffing the rest of his pancake into his mouth in a hurry. He passed over his dishes, still chewing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you have a y eyeball, obviously.”

That made no sense.

(But Youngjae just laughed, shaking his head and would not explain.)

“So what was up with the pancakes?”

After breakfast – or was it brunch, seeing Daehyun actually had slept in longer than he was supposed to (check his phone, and there would be at least half a hundred messages from his manager asking for his whereabouts before simply giving up, realizing their little mister perfect had gone out for a night with the drunkards) – they had ended up in the living room couch, Youngjae in one end and Daehyun the other. Alcohol, after all, they said was the best method of bonding; and they had most certainly done enough of the drinking the other night to be the world’s best of friends.

Youngjae shrugged lightly, his shoulders buried into the cushions of the sofa. “An apology for being an asswipe yesterday?”

At least he knew that he had been a bother.

Daehyun laughed, waving a hand.

(Youngjae could cook – really well – and that was all that mattered. He would not have minded fussing after a drunk Youngjae again, if it meant waking up to pancakes.)

“Was going to take you home, but you wouldn’t tell me where you lived.”

“Was that your secret ploy to find out where I lived?”

Daehyun jumped. “No, no, no; that’s definitely not it.”

Youngjae laughed, nudging the singer with his foot. “I’m kidding.” Daehyun did not relax, but he did lean back, cheeks puffed and arms crossed across his arm for the tease. They were not close enough to toss back and forth such jokes at each other yet – were they? “Drunk me probably just didn’t want my roommate to see me a mess. He can be scary when he’s mad, y’know?”

As a matter of fact, Daehyun did not, but he nodded anyways in sympathy; he could remember back when he too had used to share a dorm with the other two boys of his band. It was never fun when he arrived alone before or after the others – both with a complete different set of reasons.

“I should probably go now.”

Daehyun hummed something of a response.

“My roommate’s probably worried.”

“Need a lift?” Not like he had anything better to do.

Youngjae’s place turned out to be somewhere further off in the educational district. The last time Daehyun had been there, he had lost a rather anticlimactic game of rock, paper scissors, and the memory of it brought an unruly smile on his face – one Youngjae laughed over, unknowing the reason for the distaste.

Somewhere trapped at a red light, Daehyun had watched as Youngjae dialed up his roommate on Daehyun’s phone – because Youngjae had to have been an Android user who could not plug into Daehyun’s power cable. “God, stop screaming already.” Daehyun had laughed as Youngjae ripped the phone from his ear, the loud echo of his roommate screaming audible at Daehyun’s distance. “Sheesh, my phone died, alright?” A pause, “No, I didn’t have any spare batteries at hand. Stupid, I would have called you otherwise.”

Daehyun snorted and turned his eyes back to the road. Cute; roommate had been worried.

“Yeah mom, I’ll be there in like, five minutes tops.”

When he pulled the phone from his ears, tossing Daehyun’s phone on the driver’s lap – “Hey! I’m driving here!” –, Youngjae groaned. “I swear, he thinks I’m five.”

“You look like you’re five.” The look Daehyun got in return was savage. “It was a compliment.”

“Hey, I’m serious; you have a nice face and all.”

“Sure, of course, of course.” There was disbelief, but the boy stretched out, waving away the words.

And that was the end of that conversation.

“Oh god.”

Daehyun spared a glance toward Youngjae upon turning into the apartment complex. “What? Did you forget something?” Youngjae had drawn his hands over his face, sinking into the cushions of the front seat. He looked as if he were trying to fold into himself.

“Worse,” he groaned.

Daehyun did not get it. He curled a brow, but shrugged. Youngjae was a weirder sort than the crowd he’d see on average. He failed to be surprised at anything else Youngjae threw at him – what could have been weirder than being told he had y eyeballs anyway.

“Don’t stop, just keep driving; hopefully into a tree or a building.”

“Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay to you?”

Daehyun frowned.

“Look.” It was only after the distressed groan that Daehyun finally caught sight of the bundled figure at the steps leading into the apartment building. A mop of rumpled dark hair and glasses. Whoever it was, wore just an oversized sweatshirt over a pair of what seemed like sporting shorts.

(Crazy, Daehyun figured. It was reaching last fall; no one in their right mind wore so lightly when stepping out.)

“What did you do to Youngjae?” This was the angry Jongup that Junhong – and Youngjae – had talked about. “You swore you’d give up if you lost!”

But Jongup was hard to take seriously with his hair a mess – Daehyun guessed he had not washed it the other night – and glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Rather, it was comical. If not for the fact that the boy had gotten up close, a finger jabbed in the general direction of Daehyun’s face, he might have even laughed.

(Unlike Youngjae, Daehyun did not have a death wish.

Messing with Jongup now seemed like a sure way to wake up with a tube sticking out of his nose.)

So biting back a retort, he held up his hands, taking a step back and letting Youngjae slide out of the passenger seat of the car and coolly slide between the angry puppy and the celebrity. “Whoa there, up-and-excited, eyeballs didn’t do anything.”

Daehyun frowned. Those were horrible nicknames.

But the interference seemed to have caught Jongup’s attention and the anger was pointed back at him. “What the hell were you doing out so late? I was worried. You didn’t call or text! And you come back now with him? And what the hell is eyeballs?”

“My phone died. Kind of can’t do any of the things you mentioned without batteries, y’know?” Then he huffed, “And you know eyeballs? I mean, he’s weird, but he’s not too bad. Better than you get sometimes. He’s my knight in shining armor and all y’know. Or I’d be pancake,” Daehyun bit back a laugh, “if he hadn’t come swooping in.”

(Youngjae turned to Daehyun, giving him a look that he was sure was supposed to mean: My hero in the most cheesy and disgusting way possible.)

The anger seemed to have sizzled down to an extent, but there was still heat behind them as Jongup turned again to Daehyun. “I still don’t like him.”

Ouch. Daehyun could have sworn they had broken up the last time on better terms.

Youngjae rolled his eyes, shoving Jongup’s shoulder to a step back and allowing Daehyun out of the driver’s seat where Jongup had cornered him the moment his car’s engine had been cut off. “That’s cute, are you moming me? But you don’t like a lot of people I do, what else is new.

“Well, I’d introduce you two, but it seems like you guys know each other already – probably better than me, all I know about Daehyun here is that he talks in his sleep and inhales his food.”