"What is this place?" Taekwoon gulped as Ravi led him towards the frosted pink door posted at the end of the highstreet. It was definitely the classier side of town, the building made up of three stories and dazzling white walls. Through the spotless windows, he could see that it was, in fact, the lights inside giving the door it's rose tinted glow. There was a polished, silver sign above the entrance: some sort of abstract logo. It was the sort of obnoxious image you would expect from a place like this. "This is a hair salon," the rapper smiled, causing Taekwoon to roll his eyes.

"No ," he muttered "I mean, what are we doing here?"

He had met the other man in the café for breakfast that morning (which he had insisted on paying for) before Ravi had dragged him on a long walk to 'the place he had found'. Taekwoon hadn't asked questions at the time, but now he was starting to regret it. "This is a little out of my price range, isn't it?" He felt poor just looking at this place. His coat suddenly felt threadbare and his shoes became worn. But Ravi snorted, reaching forward as he adjusted his scarf, pushing the door open "Oh, come on!" He arched an eyebrow and Taekwoon sighed in defeat. The rapper was right; he should be letting loose. Why did he have to keep being reminded of that?

"Fine!"

The writer pipped up and grabbed Ravi's wrist dragging him inside before his new-found courage disappeared. To his dismay, the inside was worse than the exterior. Everything was crafted with polished stainless steel or black marble which glimmered under the fuscia lighting. It was also almost empty (bar one middle aged woman sitting with her head covered in foils), further evidence to the writer that this place was one most couldn't afford.

A gasp coming from the front desk made him jump round to see a tanned man rushing towards them, arms spread wide. "Ravi-yah!" He cried, enveloping the rapper in a hug that had him stumbling back with a surprised chuckle. "Hey, Hakyeon hyung," He didn't let the embrace linger for too long before he pulled back, rubbing his hands up and down the older man's arms.

Hakyeon was probably the only person he would call a true friend. He was the one who had visited every day when he was in hospital and given him a lift back to his apartment when he was discharged. They had known each other in college, before Ravi had dropped out to train with his company. They had parted ways slightly in that they didn't see each other as much as they did when they were kids but, even after six years, Hakyeon was the only person the rapper would trust to do his hair. Ravi would tell him anything- anything but what his intentions were after Taekwoon's wishlist was fulfilled. The older man grinned widely and tilted his head "How are you, Wonshikkie?"

"Call me Ravi," he groaned "And I'm fine; coping."

"And who's your handsome friend?"

Taekwoon felt his cheeks heat up as Hakyeon's doe-eyed gaze shifted over to him, scanning his body up and down. He linked his hands behind his back shyly and looked away. "This is Jung Taekwoon," Ravi told his friend, ushering Taekwoon forwards so Hakyeon could see him properly. "He'd like to get his hair done." The stylist's eyes suddenly lit up as he approached the writer, circling him slowly with a now thoughtful expression "Hmm..."

Seeing Hakyeon up close, Taekwoon realised he was actually quite attractive; but not flamboyant like he might have expected. His hair was a hickory brown with subtle, dark green highlights running through his fringe. He doned a plain, black button up shirt and skinny jeans with polished black dress shoes. His styl