Baekhyun slams the door to the SM Building shut behind them, and wrenches himself out of their manager’s grasp. He marches past Joonmyun, who is still holding his cheek even though there’s nobody to hide the swelling from. Joonmyun hasn’t slept well for days.

Joonmyun all but falls into the wall to get out of Baekhyun’s way. Everyone knows better than to talk to him in this mood, even their manager, who makes a half-hearted shout to get Baekhyun to stop walking away from them and talk about it like an adult. Baekhyun ignores him.

He keeps going until he finds an empty practice room and he slams the door shut behind him. The mirrors and the doorframe rattle with the bang.

He does nothing but stare at himself for a few moments. He looks wrecked. His sweaty hair droops over his eyes, the hair gel not enough to keep it in place after the heat of the stage lights from Inkigayo. His BB cream is melting into the collar of his shirt and his eyeliner is beginning to smudge where he’d swiped his fingers over his face to try to get rid of the persistent headache that’s been beating like a drum since early this morning. He hasn’t told Joonmyun, because he doesn’t want him to worry. Joonmyun has enough to worry about without Baekhyun adding to his load.

He stares and stares until the door opens quietly behind him. He lets his eyes drift over and watches Joonmyun shut the door and cross the room until he stands behind him. He rests his hands gently on Baekhyun’s shoulders and his thumbs rotate, pushing into pressure points. Baekhyun is taller than Joonmyun, but he finds himself leaning his head back to rest on Joonmyun’s shoulder anyway. One of Joonmyun’s thumbs stills.

“Are you okay?” Joonmyun asks lightly. “I haven’t seen you get that mad since Jongin in the airport.”

Baekhyun scowls at his reflection, trying to avoid Joonmyun’s eyes. “They shouldn’t have done that,” he says.

“You know better than to rise to it,” Joonmyun says, and even though Baekhyun knows he’s not trying to bait him, he still rips out of Joonmyun’s grasp. Joonmyun’s arms drop to his sides. He does a good job of pretending to be fine, but Baekhyun knows he’s hurt; both by Baekhyun’s rejection and by the fans outside the building.

“They had no right to say that,” he says. “How are you okay?” He reaches out to touch his shoulder, resting his hand there.

“It’s only words,” Joonmyun says. “They didn’t touch me. Words don’t hurt.”

Baekhyun knows this is a lie. He knows that even Joonmyun knows it’s a lie. “You can’t really believe that,” he says. “That was unnecessary and I should have smacked her for saying that.”

“It’s nice that you try to protect my virtue,” Joonmyun says, “but I’d rather you don’t get in trouble because of me.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Baekhyun snaps. “It’s my duty to protect you from sasaengs who don’t know when to stop.”

Joonmyun smiles softly, before leaning up to press a kiss next to his mouth. “Just don’t get arrested. What would I do without you?”

Baekhyun hooks his arms around Joonmyun’s waist and spins them so that Joonmyun’s back slams into the mirrors, before closing the distance between their mouths. “I can’t promise it,” he says, when they pull apart for air. “But at least you’re okay.”

He catches sight of himself in the mirror. He looks ruffled now; Joonmyun ran his hands through his hair when they were kissing, messing it up. Joonmyun always likes him best when he’s unpolished.

He likes Joonmyun best when he’s .