“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Jongdae’s voice is small.

Sehun clears his throat and manages a smile. “So… I’m back?”

“Yeah. Tell me about Siberia. Did anything cool?”

Sehun launches into a spiel about visiting various Russian landmarks, touring Siberia, beating Chanyeol at games and making him do girl group dances as punishment. He leaves out the bits about partying (even though they took up a big chunk of time during his stay) because for some reason, he just doesn’t want Jongdae to know. He wants his best friend to still look at him through a clear lens.

Jongdae listens quietly, laughing at all the right moments and never moving from his spot in front of the computer, eyes focused directly on the camera of his laptop so it looks like he’s staring right into Sehun’s soul. It’s a silly notion that someone can read your thoughts through Skype but you never know.

He never mentions the scene at the airport and Sehun is glad. If Jongdae asked about what happened, Sehun wouldn’t be able to answer. He just doesn’t have one. And it’s frustrating.

Jongdae will be alright, Sehun thinks as the older boy waves before disconnecting.

Jongin’s crew has stopped bothering him and besides, he’s got to respect the fact that Sehun can make new friends. Jongdae hasn’t been exactly truthful about what he’s doing, either. How could he get a job a week before Sehun leaves to Siberia and not say anything?

It’s justified that Sehun doesn’t have to tell him about his more wild pastimes.

Jongdae will be alright.

School starts in two weeks and they’re both making the most of what the rest of summer has to offer. They don’t spend that time together.

Sehun goes to clubs with Jongin, and Jongdae goes shopping for school supplies and clothes with his new friends from XOXO Music (Yifan is horrible at naming things, especially when it comes to his own store).  

It’s the last Saturday night before the first day of senior year and Jongdae is getting ready for bed when Yifan calls him.

“What do you want.”

“I’m your boss, Jongdae, you must treat me with respect. Let’s do that again.”

Yifan hangs up and two seconds later an amused Jongdae answers it for the second time.

“What.”

“Wow you, Jongdae. I was going to ask if you want to go to the new club that opened a couple blocks from the store. They let performers come in and do their thing for an hour every Saturday. You up for singing?”

“Pick me up in ten.”

Across the street, Sehun also answers a call.

“Hey, Yixing.”

“Jongin found a new club like twenty minutes away. He asked me to see if you wanted to come.”

Sehun laughs and gets out of bed. “Are you kidding me? Of course.”

“Alright. We’ll be at your house as soon as Jongin is finished getting ready, that slow bastard. See ya.”

Yifan pulls up to Jongdae’s house and rings the bell. No one answers, and after two minutes, he’s thinking of pounding the door when it opens abruptly.

“Sorry about that,” Jongdae pants. “I was putting on a shirt.”

Yifan looks down. And gags.

“You’re going to wear that to the club?” he asks.

Jongdae shrinks back. “Should I change, or…”

“Hell yeah you should change! No one goes to a club wearing bootcuts and long-sleeved shirt, Jongdae, even if they’re just going to sing.”

Yifan sighs in exasperation and ushers Jongdae back inside.

“We’re going to raid your closet and find something way better than the schoolboy crap you have on.”

Sehun watches from his window as Jongdae is shoved into his house by a tall man, and his eyebrows furrow.

“Do you have any- ah, yes, here they are!”

Jongdae’s head pops out from between two t-shirts. “What? Oh my god, Yifan, no!”

The older man grins and waves a pair of black skinny jeans in front of his face. “Perfect.”

Jongdae got those pants half a year ago from his fashion conscious aunt. She had brought a pile of clothes to their house on Christmas, claiming that Jongdae, as a growing boy, needed to take care of his looks. Jongdae had thanked her and tossed the clothes into the back of his closet where they had stayed untouched before Wu Yifan

“You have a lot of nice shirts,” Yifan notes. He holds up a couple of items Jongdae’s aunt gave him and the shorter boy feels his face paling.

“But they’re all so-”

“Shut up,” Yifan says cheerily. He picks out a white tee with “COMME des GARÇONS” on the front in big, black letters. Holding it up to Jongdae’s chest, it’s obvious that the shirt is loose and hangs low enough to show his collarbones.

“Perfect,” Yifan repeats.

Jongdae gulps.

“KIM JONGDAE YOU LITTLE STAY STILL FOR FIVE SECONDS.”

    Said boy wails and twists away from Yifan’s large hands.

    “No! I refuse to wear that! Way too revealing!”

    “That’s the whole ing point,” Yifan argues, “you are a teenage boy, it’s okay to show off your body.”

    “Noooo,” Jongdae whines sadly, “nooooooooo.”

    Yifan shakes his head and lunges at the younger male.

    He ends up sitting on Jongdae’s chest, smacking his face with the shirt and skinny jeans.

    “If you don’t get into these in the next five minutes, I swear to god,” he hisses, and Jongdae’s eyes widen before shoving Yifan off of him and running into the bathroom.

    “See? It looks fine,” Yifan says when Jongdae stomps out. “I don’t know why you look so angry.”

    Jongdae admits that he’s surprisingly hotter when he’s wearing clothes that make him look his age instead of an elderly college professor. The only reason he’s angry is because Yifan is right.

    “Let’s go,” he grumbles.

    “Seriously? With that hair?”

    Jongdae glances in the mirror and groans. The struggle with Yifan paired with the violent ripping off his clothes in the bathroom had made strands stick up in some weird places.

    The older man runs a hand through it and nods approvingly. “Whatever, we can’t do anything about it now. And it looks like hair, so it’s okay. Gives you an edgy look. Now come on.”

    Jongdae squawks in embarrassment ( hair? really?) and hurriedly follows Yifan out the door and into his car, patting the top of his head every once in a while.

    “You ,” he tells Yifan sourly, and the other man just clucks his tongue as he starts the engine.

    “Holy , is that Jongdae? What’s he doing getting in some dude’s car?”

    Sehun bites his tongue, watching as the tall man (more attractive than him, he notes with irrational envy) settles into the driver’s seat. What’s even more surprising than Jongdae driving off with some stranger is, well, Jongdae himself.

    “I never even knew he owned skinny jeans,” Tao remarks, sidling up to the window beside Sehun and Jongin. “Wonder where he’s going.” He turns to Sehun and nudges his shoulder. “You guys are best friends, right? Do you know where he could be going on a Saturday?”

    There used to be a time when Sehun and Jongdae were just Sehun and Jongdae. They knew each other so well, to the point where it would creep some people out because of how close they were. They shared more than food and secrets. They shared everything.

    There used to be a time when Sehun would answer instantly to any question about Jongdae, but this time, he draws a blank.

    “I don’t know,” he says, not even trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice, “I don’t know.”

    The streetlights surrounding Jongdae’s neighborhood fade into a fuzzy yellow behind them and he leans back in his seat.

    “Who else will be there?” he asks.

    Yifan turns to him slowly. “Um, a lot of people?”

    “No, idiot, I’m talking about our friends. Did you forget you had any?”

    “Hey, I’m your boss, Kim Jongdae! And everyone will be there, to answer your question.”

    Jongdae grins. “Nice.”

    Shot is a high energy club, gleaming in the moonlight, neon letters spelling SHOT propped up on top of the building.

    Jongdae feels a little apprehensive as he makes his way through the sweaty crowd. He’s used to singing at nearly empty bars where it’s okay to croon ballads, but this place doesn’t call for anything but electronica.

    “What the hell am I supposed to sing in here?” Jongdae shouts over the din.

    “I don’t know, a pop song?” Yifan yells back. They push through the throngs and Jongdae spots Baekhyun trying to suffocate someone with his tongue. He shudders and walks faster.

    Kyungsoo is sitting at the bar with Minseok and Luhan, miserably stirring his drink.

    “You alright?” Jongdae asks, slipping an arm around the wide-eyed man’s shoulders.

    Kyungsoo glances up at Baekhyun ing the stranger and nods before turning away.

    “Oh.” Baekhyun? Kyungsoo likes Baekhyun? “Oh.”

    Jongdae clears his throat and pats Kyungsoo’s hand awkwardly. “Well, um. He’s probably drunk? And you never really reciprocated, you know what I mean? Baekhyun really likes you but you never gave him the time of day. It’s hard waiting for someone.” I would know.

    Kyungsoo slides his drink away from him and sighs.

    “Yeah… I mean, I really do like Baekhyun. But he’s just so…” Kyungsoo gestures with his hands and Jongdae must’ve blanked because Kyungsoo goes red and stops wiggling his fingers.

    “He’s just so Byun Baek. And that sounds dumb because of course he is, but he’s unpredictable and cares too much about his appearance and the appearances of other people. I feel like he’s a summer storm.” Kyungsoo laughs and rests his head on his arms. “He came so suddenly and will disappear just as fast. I can’t keep up with him. I don’t want him to break my heart.”

    Jongdae sits heavily next to him and rubs comforting circles on the older man’s back. “If you both feel the same for each other, then you should date him. You guys will be happy together.”

    “But look at him with that guy,” Kyungsoo interjects. “The reason I can’t call him mine is because he’s too willing to give even when he claims he loves me. Do you know what I feel like right now? A joke.”

    Jongdae is about to reply when the beat dies down and a husky voice announces, “Guest singer from eleven to twelve is Chen! Come on up!”

    Luhan pokes him on the cheek. “That’s you.”

    “But my name isn’t Chen?”

    “That was Baekhyun’s doing. Just go up, Jongdae.”

    The stage is a raised platform six feet high and Jongdae is shivering with nervous anticipation as a mic drops into his palm.

    “We’ll pick the songs,” a guy hovering over the keyboard says. “The lyrics will be on a screen right across from you just in case.”

    Jongdae nods and the keyboardist smiles, eyes turning into happy crescents.

    The music starts and Jongdae opens his mouth.

    This is where he belongs.

    This is what he’s always wanted to do.

    Jongdae sings.

    “This guy’s pretty good,” Yixing says, interest clear in his voice. Besides partying, having , drinking, and smoking weed, Yixing is a fan of anything music and often plucks out tunes on his guitar. Granted, his songs are mostly written when he’s high and are weird as hell but Yixing’s a talented guy who appreciates a nice voice.

    Sehun brushes past his friends and hurtles himself into the raucous crowd.

    He has a feeling he knows who’s singing.

    On the stage, jumping up and down, is none other than-

    “-Kim Jongdae?” Yixing says in disbelief.

A/N: yoyoyo

thanks for sticking with me even though the formattin gets messed up

ily