Kuanlin didn’t know much about Park Woojin, apart from the fact that he was Jihoon’s roommate, a Class A junior from the Idol Track, and the type of person to crack lame, unfunny jokes at the most inopportune of moments.

But one thing he did know was that Park Woojin was an amazing dancer, and Kuanlin felt vaguely as if the exact same thought had crossed his mind that very morning. As he watched Woojin taking control of the stage, dancing to ‘Blood, Sweat and Tears’ with his own choreography,  Kuanlin couldn’t help but wonder at how much time it must’ve taken Woojin to become as good as he was at dancing. He moved in perfect rhythm with the beat of the music, more aggressively as the music picked up in pace, toning them down to deliberate, sensual motions as the music returned to a softer, more haunting melody.

It doesn’t matter if it hurts, make it tighter so I can’t escape
Hold me tight and shake me so I’ll be unconscious
Kiss me on the lips, lips, this is a secret between the two of us
I am addicted by the prison that is you
I cannot worship anyone else beside you
I knowingly drank from the poisoned chalice

Kirin Hall in its entirety stood still, all eyes on the stage in thorough captivation. Kuanlin simply sat there with his mouth agape in marvel at the sight. He didn’t think anyone could have topped Daniel’s performance, which left the audience in uproar and his mob of rabid fangirls in hysterics, or Seongwoo’s acting segment, which may or may not have caused Kuanlin to shed a tear he had forgotten he had glands for (because he never cried. Ever). Even Daehwi and Jinyoung were on fire as they sang, and Jinyoung’s status as a Class F student was obliterated from his mind by their smashing performance in Daehwi’s arrangement. Nobody even seemed to mind that their song was similar to Taejoon’s, whose rendition had been consigned to oblivion, completely upstaged and overshadowed. Kuanlin could tell almost immediately that it was his plan to peg Daehwi and Jinyoung as plagiarists, but the entire thing backfired on him the instant Daehwi’s honey-sweet voice reverberated across the hall, and Kuanlin could not have been happier.

So this is what Class A is capable of.  

He turned to Jihoon beside him, who was concentrating fiercely on Woojin’s performance, looking as if he could shoot lasers out of his eyes at any moment. Jihoon followed Woojin’s movements closely, unblinking, and Kuanlin couldn’t tell if the look on his face tended more towards disturbance or admiration. He supposed, however, that the logical answer was that he admired Woojin’s performance more than anyone, and that to him was precisely disturbing. Jihoon, after all, hated having to admit that Woojin had redeeming qualities that would make it even remotely acceptable for him to act like such a buffoon everywhere else.

To Kuanlin, however, Woojin’s dancing was not just his redemption, but his saving grace. It was his purpose, his reason for being, the singular work of art he dedicated all of his time and his efforts to mastering.

And his art was damn near close to a masterpiece, if not one already in a league of his own making. The music filled his ears, and the choreography filled his vision.

My blood, sweat and tears
My last dance, take it all
My blood, sweat and tears
My cold breath, take it all

I’ve seen him practice, but he must’ve been holding back then, Kuanlin thought. Because this is a different level of breathtaking altogether. I’m this hyung’s fanboy for sure.

“I want to learn how to dance like that,” Kuanlin whispered to Jihoon. “If I do, I think my life would be made complete.”

“And I think I might actually be tearing up a bit,” Jihoon said. “Goddamn this performance.”

Kuanlin’s brows shot up at the remark. “You like it that much, hyung?”

Jihoon scoffed at the idea. “Don’t think you’ll live long enough to hear me admit that out loud, but I watched the entire thing without blinking, so I may or may not have gathered a pile of dust in my eye by accident and its making them water.”

Kuanlin chuckled, pinching Jihoon’s cheek playfully. “That means you like it, silly.”

“Ugh,” Jihoon exclaimed. “Kill me now.”

The instrumental changed as the song hit its bridge, accentuating the lyrics as if in response to Jihoon’s outburst.

Kill me softly
Close my eyes with your touch
I can't even reject you anyway
I can't run away anymore
You're too sweet, too sweet
Because you're too sweet

Kuanlin smiled at Jihoon knowingly as the music ground to a halt, and the audience erupted in boisterous applause. Kuanlin followed suit, but Jihoon simply crossed his arms together.

“Well at this point, I’d say he has about a ninety percent chance of making it into the Idol Project.”

Kuanlin laughed. “Where’d the other ten go?”

Jihoon shrugged nonchalantly. “No idea, but I refuse to give it to him.”

Kuanlin smiled, thinking Jihoon’s unexpected immaturity completely endearing. “You and Woojin-hyung remind me of Seongwoo-hyung and Daniel-hyung, sometimes. Always at each other’s throats, neither one willing to back down or give in. It’s quite amusing.”

Jihoon stuck his tongue out in mock disgust. “Ugh, don’t say that. Woojin and I are never going to happen.”

“And you think Seongwoo-hyung and Daniel-hyung will?”

Jihoon nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t just think. I know. Seongwoo-hyung looks at Daniel-hyung like a starving hyena eyeing its next meal, and Daniel-hyung blushes like a smitten teenage girl whenever Seongwoo-hyung flirts with him out in the open. Whenever those two are around, the in the air is so thick it’s almost suffocating.”

Kuanlin tiled his head slightly in confusion. “What does ‘’ mean?”

Jihood coughed, turning away in embarrassment. “Uhh… Let’s just say the vice principal might’ve overlooked a few possibilities when he decided to force them into sharing a room.”

The next performance was about to start, but Kuanlin was so taken by his curiosity on the topic at hand to even notice. “What sorts of things do you think they’re doing in there?”

At this Jihoon blushed beet red. “I don’t know. But they aren’t just having a nice chat over some cookies and tea, that’s for sure.”

Kuanlin’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. He rather liked cookies and tea. “Makes me wish we had been roommates instead.”

At his bold declaration, Jihoon let out a sound that Kuanlin had no idea humans could even make. “I’m… I’m not sure I know what you’re implying.”

“Nothing,” Kuanlin replied. “I just… I think it would be fun, and I’d get to spend more time with you. Don’t get me wrong, Daehwi’s fun to be around, but it takes him a million years to get out of the shower, and he enjoys painting my face with multi-colored clay masks way too much. I think I’d like your company better.”

“I don’t think you realize how much I like showers and clay masks myself,” Jihoon retorted. “Ah… I think I’d better find some new hobbies.”

Kuanlin grinned, satisfied that Jihoon was playing along with his little fantasy, even just a little. “We could ask Seongwoo-hyung and Daniel-hyung what they like to do in their spare time.”

Jihoon turned to him in alarm. “I don’t think that’s a bright idea. Naughty things might be happening in their room for all we know.”

Kuanlin grinned. “Naughty sounds nice too.”

Jihoon turned away from him, and Kuanlin noticed how red his ear had gotten. “Go away, Kuanlin-ah.”

“Haha, no,” Kuanlin replied.  “I’m going to stay right here.”

“F-fine. But go watch the performances or something.”

Kuanlin refocused his attention to the stage, where the last of the Class A students was performing a Twice song he couldn’t remember the title of. He rumpled his hair to get his fringe out of his face for a clearer view, noticing Jihoon from the periphery of his vision still looking at him. He realized too late that Jihoon had mentioned he didn’t like it whenever Kuanlin did that. He quickly withdrew his hand, accidentally brushing Jihoon’s as he did so.

 “Ah, sorry.”

“That’s… that’s fine.”

Kuanlin turned to Jihoon, whose eyes were superglued to the stage as if to avoid eye contact at all costs. Kuanlin smiled to himself, deciding not to move his hand away. He covered Jihoon’s hand with his, squeezing it gently.

Forever and day seemed to pass before he felt Jihoon squeeze his hand in return.

Satisfied, Kuanlin sat back, waiting for the next round of performances from the students of Class B.

A few minutes later, Professor Lee’s sing-song voice finally rang out through the speakers. “Class B promotion exams and auditions will begin in ten minutes,” he began, and Kuanlin could feel Jihoon’s hand tensing up at the announcement. “Students Kim Jaehwan to Jo Jinri, and their respective exam partners, please make your way backstage. I repeat, Class B promotion exams and auditions will begin in ten minutes. Students Kim Jaehwan to Jo Jinri, please make your way backstage.”

“You’re up next, Jihoon-hyung,” Kuanlin whispered. He squeezed Jihoon’s hand even tighter, as if to absorb away the stress and the jitters. “Good luck.”

“God, I’m a nervous wreck,” Jihoon said. “Tell me I’ll be alright.”

When Jihoon turned to face him, searching his eyes for reassurance, Kuanlin smiled back, nodding his head once. “You’ll be alright, hyung. You’ve prepared well and you’ll make it. No doubt about it.”

Jihoon nodded to himself then, withdrawing his hand from underneath Kuanlin’s ever so slowly. He closed his eyes for five seconds, and when they reopened, a look of stern determination replaced the earlier look of high-strung uncertainty. “Park Jihoon, fighting!” Jihoon whispered to himself, balling both of his hands into fists in a fighting gesture.

If Kuanlin could give out medals for the cutest of outbursts Jihoon had come up with since then, that last one would surely have taken the cake.

Kuanlin imitated Jihoon’s gesture as best as he could manage. “Park Jihoon, fighting!”

With that, Jihoon stood up from his seat beside Kuanlin and began walking towards the stage.

Kim Jaehwan was up first, and until then Kuanlin had only ever heard stories about how fantastic his singing was. There seemed to have been a consensus within the student body that he deserved to have been moved to Class A long ago, but his promotion was stymied each time by a chaotic relationship with one of the assistant professors (his name was Wang Minhyuk something or other, but Kuanlin thought he might’ve gotten that wrong because he had an unexpected talent for butchering Korean names).

But whatever expectations he might’ve had for Kim Jaehwan’s performance was blown abruptly into smithereens by the actual performance.

He was performing ‘Skyfall’ by Adele, one of Kuanlin’s favorite artists.  The song started off slow, and Jaehwan’s lower register had a certain richness to it that he could never have seen coming.

This is the end
Hold your breath and count to ten
Feel the earth move and then
Hear my heart burst again

For this is the end
I've drowned and dreamt this moment
So overdue I owe them
Swept away, I'm stolen

These lyrics remind me of Jihoon-hyung, Kuanlin thought. But then again, I’m reminded of him by most things these days.

Kuanlin laughed inwardly at the thought. Funny, because I met him last night. And only because I forgot to retrieve my necklace from my desk-drawer.

Kuanlin slowly untucked the Goro feather necklace from within his shirt, the parting gift his sister had given him before he left for Korea. He brought the necklace to his lips, as if to kiss it in thanks for letting the universe conspire for him to meet so wonderful a person.

He closed his eyes, allowing Jaehwan’s voice to penetrate his being.

Let the sky fall
When it crumbles
We will stand tall
Face it all together
At skyfall
At skyfall

At every word, Kuanlin couldn’t help but admire Jaehwan’s excellent technique. His head voice was smooth, his falsetto airy, and his vibrato gut-wrenchingly good, its pulsating change in pitch breaking Kuanlin’s skin into goosebumps.

Where you go I go
What you see I see
I know I’d never be me
Without the security
Of your loving arms
Keeping me from harm
Put your hand in my hand
And we’ll stand

Kuanlin reopened his eyes. Not for the first time did he wish he could sing, that he had the ability to express himself so clearly through music.

And then, like waves lapping against a large mass of rock, gurgling and splashing before they returned with much greater force, unwelcome feelings began settling within Kuanlin, threatening to break him down.

Feelings of unshakeable dread.

Of numbing insecurity.

Of terrifying doubt.

I’m not good enough, he began thinking. I might never be.

The performance ended, and the cheers from the audience released Kuanlin from his stupor. He palmed his brow, realizing that sweat had been beading down his forehead without him noticing. Kuanlin closed his eyes, trying to recollect himself.

At every performance, Kuanlin realized, he’d find himself in awe at the impassable level of talent on display before him, a constant reminder of how much he lacked and how little he had to offer in comparison. The thought provoked a deep-seated fear of humiliation, that had until then simply been resting in languor within him, untouched and unvisited. It was a fear he didn’t dare entertain at first, because he knew that once he let such worry overtake him, his sense of composure would collapse and his self-confidence would rupture, split down the middle and tear in half.

Kuanlin breathed in deeply, as if the shortage of air was robbing him of his self-assurance, stripping away the peace of mind he held so mightily onto in order not to break into splinters.

 “Are you alright?” he heard a voice ask, interrupting his dispiriting train of thought. He looked up over his shoulder to where Daehwi and Jinyoung were hovering above him, having just returned. A look of concern was plastered on Daehwi’s face.  “You looked like you were going to be sick.”

Kuanlin forced a smile, though he was sure Daehwi could see right through him. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

Daehwi and Jinyoung exchanged worried glances, then reclaimed their seats next to Kuanlin after having come to a silent agreement.

“If you’re worried about how Jihoon is about to do,” Jinyoung said. “I suggest you don’t. I’m sure that guy has a few tricks up his sleeve by now to enrapture the audience with his performance.”

Kuanlin nodded. He’s right. I should stop worrying by myself for a moment, because Jihoon-hyung needs my support.

He gripped at the handrest of Jihoon’s empty seat, as if the presence that lingered there could provide him even the tiniest fraction of reassurance Jihoon did whenever they talked, hugged, held hands. He closed his eyes, trying to hold on to the comfort the memories from this morning and the night before afforded him, no matter how small.

Strength of mind, Kuanlin. That’s all you need.

Kuanlin couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t think Park Jihoon was beautiful. Even last night, the moment he first laid eyes on Jihoon as peeked through the door of the practice room, Kuanlin had thought that the sight of him as he danced was unlike anything he had ever witnessed.

Kuanlin could hardly even remember his own name as he watched.

And as soon as Jihoon stepped onstage, he was instantly reminded of the way it felt to look at him for the very first time, as if he had lived his entire life in black and white, and only the sight of Jihoon was wrought in vivid color, everything in the background coming alive at his touch.

As the familiar instrumentals of EXO’s ‘Monster’ played, Kuanlin held his breath, waiting for Jihoon’s beguiling performance to commence.

She got me going crazy
Why is my heart racing? 

At the first sound of Jihoon’s singing voice, ooh’s and aah’s began to echo across the hall from an unsuspecting audience. Half of them had likely never heard Jihoon sing, instilling a certain pride in Kuanlin for being one of the very first to hear, albeit entirely by accident.

You’re beautiful, my goddess
But you’re closed up, yeah yeah
I’ll knock so will you let me in?
I’ll give you a hidden thrill

Kuanlin smiled to himself. He had seen Jihoon’s choreography to this song multiple times before, and it never failed to impress him no matter how many times he watched, completely immune to utilities of scale. As Jihoon’s hips rocked back and forth to the music, his hands moving across his body, screams began erupting from the upper box of the performance hall. Kuanlin looked behind him and upwards at them, seeing a couple of girls clutching at each other for support as they went weak around the knees at Jihoon’s suggestive movements.

Dang, Kuanlin thought. He’s really out there snatching fangirls right from under Daniel-hyung’s nose.

“Those girls had better not try and claim Jihoon-hyung after all this,” Jinyoung remarked, not failing to notice the ruckus Jihoon was causing. “We found him first.”

“Rather than that, someone should just collect this guy already,” Daehwi said. He was sitting rather stiffly, with both of his hands clenched into fists atop his knees. “I didn’t get to watch him practice this properly since we were busy working on our own song, but… Is this even legal?”

“If it isn’t,” Kuanlin replied. “I sure don’t mind having to watch him break the rules.”

Daehwi nodded absently, his ears turning red.

“Hey,” Jinyoung exclaimed, not liking the effect Jihoon was having on Daehwi as he danced. “Stop blushing already. It’s making me feel like I’ve stepped into some convoluted love triangle with arrows pointing in either direction.”

“What does that mean?” Kuanlin asked with genuine curiosity.

Jinyoung looked to him, then sighed in frustration.

“I stand corrected,” he said. “I meant a love square.”

Kuanlin was about to ask for further clarifications, but the sound of Jihoon’s voice as he sang the chorus effectively shut all three of them up.

I’m creeping in your heart babe
I’ll flip you over, break you down and swallow you up
I’ll steal you and indulge in you
I’m gonna mess you up

I’m engraved in your heart
So even if I die, I wanna live forever
Come here girl,
You call me monster
I’ll go into your heart

As Jihoon performed, he wore a powerful expression, and every time his eyes shot upwards to look at the girls as if to dedicate the song to them, they would begin squealing and jumping about, some of them even shaking each other violently for some odd reason. He moved across the room effortlessly, his footwork precise, and his hand movements rough yet strikingly graceful at the same time.

“I wonder what Daniel-hyung things of all this,” Kuanlin said. “His fans are swerving to Jihoon’s lane one after the other.”

“He isn’t here,” Daehwi noted. “Neither is Ong Seongwoo.”

“Where’d they go?” Kuanlin asked. “I don’t think Daniel-hyung would care too much though, but at least he doesn’t have to witness it live.”

Because there was no stopping Park Jihoon. The music changed abruptly, the lights onstage dimmed, and a spotlight shone on him, following his every moment. This was a part of the song that Jihoon had never practiced with Kuanlin before.

“He choreographed a dance break,” Daehwi said, mouth ajar in astonishment. “This is crazy.”

But even as Daehwi spoke, Kuanlin couldn’t manage to tear his eyes away from Jihoon. His movements became more harried, almost as if he was in pain. He slid to the floor in one swift movement, using his hand as an axle to spin his body around, then he stood back up and looked once at the audience, meeting Kuanlin’s gaze for a brief moment.

Before he could even process what was happening, Jihoon’s hand rose to his chest then jerked forcefully away, his leather jacket flying open and sliding partway down his shoulders, revealing abs Kuanlin had no idea Jihoon had in the first place.

Kuanlin, Daehwi, and Jinyoung gasped in surprise collectively, their hands moving to cover their faces. Despite the blush creeping forcibly upwards to color his cheeks, Kuanlin peeked at Jihoon dancing anyway. His other hand moved to cover his ear, which was being assaulted by high-pitched screaming. Even the boys in the audience had begun roaring in excitement, not ceasing until the dance break ended.

“,” Jinyoung cursed. “He really went for it. I can’t believe this guy just went for it.”

“This is most definitely not legal,” Daehwi said. “Who… who dressed him that way?”

Jinyoung shot Kuanlin an accusatory look. “You never told me he didn’t have a shirt under that jacket!”

Kuanlin shook his head. “I gave him a shirt, but I didn’t know he never put it on. He must’ve left it in the bathroom so I wouldn’t find out.”

Jinyoung groaned. “See how smart this guy is? He’s doing everything in his power to gain public appeal. Making eye-contact with Daniel’s fangirls, asking to dim the lights, choreographing a dance break, dressing that way, even choosing a song as ubiquitous as ‘Monster’… all of that is intentional. I told you he had a few tricks up his sleeve. I just didn’t know they would be of this magnitude and of this scale.”

“He’s making it in, no doubt about it,” Daehwi said. “The response is ridiculous. If he doesn’t, at the very least he’ll get promoted to A.”

“What do you think, Kuanlin-ah?” Jinyoung asked, turning to Kuanlin and noticing his unwavering gaze. “Wait… are you alright? You’re looking a bit shaken.”

Kuanlin no longer had his wits about him, enough to formulate a response that wouldn’t come out as downright gibberish. He simply watched the rest of Jihoon’s performance, not missing every moment that Jihoon’s eyes would find him.

As if the song is meant for me.

Everyone’s afraid of me, so I’m untouchable man
But in the end, you can’t reject me
You’ll hide and steal glances at me then get surprised
I’m your antinomy, I’m a part of your existence

Kuanlin released a breath, sure he had fallen down a rabbit hole, in too deep for anyone to rescue. He struggled to reconcile sweet, adorable Jihoon with seductive, jacket-removing Jihoon, and two sides of him were clashing inwardly as to which persona he liked better.

Kuanlin’s hand moved to his mouth, embarrassed by his stream of thought.

“Hyung,” he whispered to the air. “This is totally unfair.”

Before the song could reach its conclusion, he dared to cast one last look at Jihoon, whose eyes were already on him.

Creeping, creeping, creeping
Creeping, creeping, creeping
You. Creeping

When the music ended, the audience graced Jihoon with a smattering of applause, and Kuanlin rose from his seat to give him a standing ovation, clapping ferociously for Jihoon until he thought his hands might fall off. Daehwi and Jinyoung followed suit, and soon enough, a vast majority of the audience. Jihoon simply stared at them in disbelief. A moment later Jihoon’s eyes found him once more, accompanied thereafter by the brightest, most dazzling smile Kuanlin had ever seen.

Kuanlin smiled back, cheering along with the audience. Jihoon looked to the three of them, grinning from ear to ear, the very picture of bliss and exhilaration. 

All of a sudden, Kuanlin felt something wet coursing down his cheek, and he immediately looked away.

Why am I crying for no reason? He thought. I never cry. Ever.

“He’s amazing isn’t he?” Jinyoung said, still beaming with pride at Jihoon despite his earlier outburst, who was still bowing repeatedly centerstage, humbled by the overwhelming praise.

“Yeah,” Kuanlin agreed. “He’s amazing.”

The moment of understanding came to him slowly.

And it was a moment of agonizing defeat.

He’s amazing. He’s perfect. He’s beautiful. And that’s the reason why…

He’s completely and utterly out of my reach.

When Kuanlin met Jihoon in the changing room backstage after his performance, he could hardly tell if he had gotten the timing of his visit perfectly right or utterly wrong, because Jihoon was still in the process of buttoning up his jacket.

“Need help with that?” Kuanlin offered. Jihoon’s head whipped sideways in his direction, only then sensing his presence.

“What are you doing back here?” Jihoon demanded. “I haven’t finished changing.”

“Hence the offer,” Kuanlin explained. He walked towards Jihoon. “Let me help you.”

“No need,” Jihoon said. “I can help myself.”

Kuanlin persisted anyway, not sure why he was doing it. He took hold of Jihoon’s jacket himself, causing Jihoon’s hands to drop effectively to his sides in astonishment. Kuanlin began adjusting Jihoon’s jacket, praying for his nose not to bleed before he could reach the farthest button.

“Sorry hyung,” Kuanlin said, teasing Jihoon in order to distract himself. “I just needed an excuse to see your abs in HD.”

Jihoon’s face turned red almost instantaneously. “You’re… you’re being an idiot.”

Kuanlin sighed. “I know.”

A moment of silence passed between them, the only point of contact between Kuanlin’s fingers and the skin of Jihoon’s chest as he brushed against it unintentionally.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, poking Jihoon’s stomach tentatively. “Now I have to rescind the whole ‘Jihoon is a fat Shiba Inu’ concept.”

Jihoon groaned audibly. “Why does it have to be a fat one, anyway?”

“It doesn’t,” Kuanlin replied. “But you did inhale your food like a vacuum last night when we went out for chicken, so I just thought of it that way.”

“Chicken’s my favorite, okay?” Jihoon explained defensively. “Besides, the topic never came up as we conversed, so I