The long drive was quiet.

I looked out the window from time to time, and the smell of the car almost made me doze off. Still the same scent. The radio wasn’t , so it was even more quiet and nerve-wrecking.

“Have you heard Jongdae sing?”

I removed my gaze from the window and turned to Kris. He was looking ahead.

“That weirdo sings?” I asked.

Kris gave me a sideways glance, a smile coming up at the corner of his mouth.

“Try ‘lead singer,’” he said. He reached out his hand and grabbed a CD from the dashboard and played it, switching from radio-mode to CD-mode.

I listened to the song, and took a quick glance at the small screen showing the title What is Love.

“Can you guess who’s who?” Kris asked.

“This is him?” I asked, wide-eyed, as I listened to the first adlib, and my jaw dropped. “This is Kim freakin’ Jongdae?”

Kris burst into a fit of laughter after seeing my reaction. He then told me there were only two singers in the song, and that I had to guess the other voice.

“Hah. Easy,” I said. “Lulu Bear.”

“Funny. That guy rarely lets anyone call him that except for you and Sehun. And how come I don’t have a nickname?”

“You already have, Giganto.”

I listened to the music, my fingers tapping my arm. It wasn’t half bad.

“I will never picture Jongdae the same anymore,” I declared.

We listened to the entire CD the entire way, and I already recognized who’s who. The final song caught my interest. No idea what it was called, but I liked it.

“This is nice,” I said as I listened. “I like it.”

Kris smiled. “Me, too.”

The song, Angel, had a different feel. I actually hit replay more than once. Kris didn’t mind it a bit. He looked even happier when I started humming along. It made me smile, and when he stopped at the red light strange enough we started singing.

Midway, Kris started laughing.

“It’s nali. Nali,” he corrected. “Say it with me.”

“Shut up,” I said.

“You can’t perfect your Chinese if you don’t listen,” he said, shrugging.

“Fine. Na-li.”

“No, no, it’s nali.”

“Na…li.”

He grabbed my chin and moved my mouth. “NALI.”

I slapped his hand away and frowned, but he was actually laughing. The light turned green, and he started driving again, concentrating on the road.

“Hey,” he said, when I thought he was back to serious mode. “You remember when you sang Secret Love?”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” I moaned.

He snickered. “What, I think it was cute.”

“I don’t sing,” I told him. “Such as ‘I don’t dance.’”

“Why not?” he asked me. “I like your voice. And I like your dancing.”

“Don’t even try to up to me,” I warned him.

“I’m not,” he said, but he was laughing still. Or maybe he was just in a good mood. A really good mood.

We got there, straight to the stadium, straight into the long corridor leading up backstage.

“Where’re the other guys?” I asked Kris as I looked around, but only seeing guards and the crew members, all in black uniforms.

Kris shrugged as he fixed his collar. “Dressing room? Come on.”

When he pas