The pizza had been devoured. There were about three drops left of the last liter of Mountain Dew, which Changhyun was desperately trying to out. Daniel and Chanhee were engaged in a staring contest and Jonghyun and Minsoo were chatting quietly to each other. Byunghun and I were lying on the couch in silence.

                Suddenly Byunghun stuck his foot in my rib cage, instantly gaining my attention . “Wanna get outta here?”

                I gave him a funny look. “What? Where could we go?”

                He shrugged. “There are always empty rooms here. We could just sit and talk, or something.”

                A smiled formed on my lips. “Let’s go.”

                Byunghun and I picked ourselves up off the couch.

                “Where are you two going?” Minsoo asked with a smirk on his face.

                “Somewhere,” Byunghun replied simply.

                “Be safe,” Minsoo jeered after us.

                “Use protection,” Chanhee joined.

                Byunghun and I were halfway out the door. He turned back and smirked. “Yah, shut up!”

                 His fingers were laced between mine as we ran down the dimly lit hallways of the T.O.P Media office building. The only light came from the little wall-lights beside each door frame in the long hallway.

                “Where are we going?” I giggled as we ran.

                “Somewhere,” Byunghun shook out his pink hair ily.

                We ran down the long hallway until we reached the elevator. Byunghun pressed the “down” arrow.

“Oppa, where are we—”

                Byunghun brought his finger to my lips. “You’ll see.”

                The elevator opened and we stepped inside. He pressed another button, and the elevator jerked downward. When it opened, what felt like five hours later, we were on the very bottom floor. He led me out the elevator and into the darkly lit hallway. The floors were concrete and so were the walls. Where on earth had Byunghun brought me? I clung to him.

               Suddenly he flicked on the light switch and instantly the entire room lit up. We were in the basement; the concrete basement of the massive building. But this also happened to be where T.O.P Media kept every single stage costume ever created. There were endless rows of costumes on hangers, fancy performing shoes, wigs, masks, stage makeup, everything.

                “Byunghun!” I gasped, breathless. “This is…this is amazing!”

                “Glad you like it,” he smirked. “Now, wanna play dress-up?”

                Instantly, we took off running. Byunghun darted for the wigs, I darted for the costumes. There had to be more than T.O.P Media’s costumes here; there was an endless wall of girl group costumes I had never seen before.

                “Hey!” Byunghun called. I whipped my head around and found him standing at the end of the aisle, a gigantic black afro on his head.

                “Lookin’ good!” I cried, laughing. I pulled a short, strapless, black sequin dress off the rack. It had a sweetheart neckline and a plunging back. It was gorgeous, and for some reason I was dying to put it on.

                “y,” Byunghun nodded in approval.

                I laughed, putting it back on the rack.

                “Hey! Try it on!” Byunghun grabbed it back.

                “What? No, that’s crazy. I couldn’t…Are we even allowed to be down here?”

                “No one’s here,” he shrugged. “And anyway, I’m technically an employee here. I can do whatever I want. And right now,” he held up the dress. “I want you to try this on.”

                I rolled my eyes and took the dress from him.

                “Now, I’ve gotta go find a tuxedo of some kind.” He took off running in the other direction and disappeared down another aisle.

                Byunghun was crazy—but, the dress was gorgeous and I really did want to put it on. I quickly slid off my hoodie, gray tank top, and skinny jeans and stepped into the dress. I zippered it up without a problem; I felt like it had been made for me. It hugged my slender waist and gave me a figure that I normally didn’t have. I kicked off my socks, as they clashed with the dress. I was admiring the dress when I heard Byunghun clear his throat at the end of the aisle. I looked up and saw him standing there in black suit, complete with a white button up shirt and shining black shoes. A fake red rose was in his mouth.

                I burst out laughing as he approached. He was such a goof, waltzing up to me like a Spanish flamenco dancer. “Hey pretty lady.” He took the rose out of his mouth and hooked it behind my ear. I laughed again, and reached up to touch the rose. It was obviously fake, and the petals were a little wrinkled, but still perfect. This moment was perfect, no matter how dorky L.Joe was being.

                He slipped his hands around my waist. “I like this dress on you,” he practically whispered, our foreheads touching.

               I smiled, unable to meet his eyes. “Thanks,” I responded shyly.

               Byunghun took my chin in his hand and lifted my face to his, his eyes looking into mine. I could get lost in his eyes; they were dark as night and squinted slightly. A y smirk was pasted on his soft lips and the next thing I knew he was kissing me.

               Every time we kissed I felt my breath escape me, like he literally took my breath away. My mind went blank and my heart stopped beating. It was always perfect. His head was tilted perfectly, his hands were on my waist perfectly, his lips were positioned perfectly. It was always soft and sweet in the beginning, and gradually got more intense.

                I gripped the back of his neck, my favorite place to touch him when we kissed. Naturally his head was bent down, as I was shorter than he was, which made his neck curve perfectly. I loved the way his soft pink hair felt as it met his warm skin.

                Still kissing me, he slowly walked forward until my back was pressed against a wall. He stopped kissing me and brought a hand to my face, softly brushing hair away. “I needed some alone time with you,” he said. “I hope the others don’t mind.”

                I smiled, unable to take my eyes off his perfect face. “I think they’ll be fine.”

                “I think so,” Byunghun agreed, “because we might be here a while.”

                His lips we back on mine. My hands flew to his chest, underneath the black suit coat. As tiny and thin as Byunghun was, he still had an undeniably nice body. Broad shoulders, not as broad as C.A.P’s but broad enough for his figure, and strong arms, not as muscular as Changjo’s but still nice to grip onto. He didn’t have abs like C.A.P either, but he didn’t need them. He was plenty y without them.

                I touched the pearly white buttons of his white collared shirt; I ed the top two. Then the next two. Then the next two. Then the next two, until it was entirely ed. I pushed the black suit-coat off his shoulders and let it hit the floor; he didn’t mind, he let it fall. My hands were back on his chest, this time his bare chest.

                “Damn,” he muttered in English. He made cussing sound y.

                Andromedas everywhere would kill me for this.

                The back of the black sequin dress plunged dangerously low, down to my lower back. Byunghun’s warm hands were on my , his fingers running from my shoulder blades to the very bottom of the deep V. suddenly he moved his hands in front, touching the top of the sweetheart neckline.

                “If someone comes in, we could get in so much trouble,” I playfully whispered in his ear.

                “Good,” Byunghun responded. “I hope we do.” He put his lips back on mine, biting my bottom lip. I bit his back and he stuck his tongue in my mouth.

                Seriously, I was probably at the top of every Andromeda’s Hit List.           

                We ran through the basement-turned-dressing-room for an hour after that, trying on ever random costume and strange article of clothing we could find. I felt like we had been locked in a costume store overnight. It was a jackpot of clothes, really. Rows of spandex pants in every color possible, chunky high-tops in every size possible, wigs in every hair style possible. Adorned in a black mohawk wig, a metallic purple bomber jacket, a dozen Hawaiian leis and too-big white high-tops, Byunghun sat atop a short wooden dresser full of stage makeup. He was admiring the funny-looking wig on his head in a slightly dusty mirror and humming softly to himself. I sat on the twin dresser on the other side of the mirror, decorated in white military jacket that reminded me of SNSD’s “Genie” concept, a hot pink boa, an orange headband with a gigantic plastic bow on it, black lace-up heels I could never walk in, and leather miniskirt. My lips were even coated thickly in red lipstick. We looked ridiculous, but were admiring ourselves anyway.

                “Think I should shave my head in a mohawk?” Byunghun asked, touching the very top of black spikes on the top of his head that extended at least a foot in the air.

                I laughed. “I wouldn’t advise it. The pink is shocking enough.”

                Byunghun pulled the wig off his head and shook out his cotton-candy colored hair, running his fingers through it until it was back to normal. He flipped it, letting the pink locks fall perfectly back into place, like magic. I loved when he did that. His hairflips were y.

                “Do you like it pink?” he asked, looking at himself in the mirror.

                “Of course,” I answered honestly. “How many people can say they’re dating someone who has pink hair?”

                “Well technically,” he smirked at me, a glint of sadness in his eyes, “you can’t.”

                “Well…true.” I looked down.

                Byunghun sighed. “Hey. L.Joe wishes he could tell everyone about you.”

                “I wish I could, too,” I said back. “Kyusoon and Minah would freak out.”

                “That’s exactly what would happen,” Byunghun replied. “I can’t do that to L.Joe. He’s not even that popular yet. He can’t kill what fans he has now.”

                “Is L.Joe that concerned about popularity, though?” I questioned. It sounded like a pointless question, though. Of course he cared about his popularity. He was an idol; and being an idol was just one big popularity contest.

                Byunghun bit his lip. “Don’t say it like that.”

                “But that’s the truth,” I stated.

                “Well, yeah, but…when you say it like that, it makes it sound…bad.”

                I shrugged. “It’s not bad. It’s just…”

                “You’re not dating L.Joe, okay?” Byunghun replied, sitting beside me on the dresser. “You’re dating Byunghun. L.Joe is Teen Top’s rapper. Byunghun is an eighteen year old kid.”

                “I wish you’d stop saying that,” I found myself saying suddenly. “You are L.Joe whether you want to be or not. You think you’re just L.Joe when you’re with fans? When you’re on stage? Well, you’re not. You’re always L.Joe. Byunghun and L.Joe are the same.”

                “No, they’re not,” Byunghun said back desperately. “Kirin, how many times have I told you that?”

                “I don’t believe it, though,” I replied, placing a hand on his knee. “And I don’t think I ever will.”

               Byunghun looked at me with sad eyes. “I just wish…” he trailed off. Suddenly he shook his head. He kissed my forehead. “Look, I don’t want to fight right now, okay?”

                I couldn’t look into his eyes any longer. “I’m sorry,” I muttered.

                “No, don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He looked at me and smiled. I kissed him in response. He kissed me back, and expected. He placed a hand on my thigh and I placed a hand on the back of his neck, as expected.

                Suddenly he looked up at the clock on the wall. “Actually, I take that back. I’m sorry that it’s almost midnight and we’ve been down here way longer than I expected.”

                Giggling, I nodded in agreement. We stood up and surveyed the area.

                “Where’s my shirt?” Byunghun asked the mess all around us.

                “Where are my boots?” I giggle-asked the mess.

                “Great,” he groaned. Suddenly a smirk appeared on his face. “First one to put their costume back, find their clothes, and get dressed, wins.”

                “Wins what?” I giggled. Everything was a competition with Teen Top.

                “I don’t know, just GO!” He darted off down the aisle, laughing.

                “Not fair, you cheater!” I cried after him, fumbling to kick off the high heels I was wearing. When I was free of them I took off running barefoot in the other direction. I rounded corner and came to the wigs, then down an aisle of jackets. I found Byunghun’s gray sweatshirt lying on the floor next to an empty hanger. I snatched his sweatshirt. I took off the military jacket, hung it back up, and pulled his sweatshirt over my tank top. If he could cheat, I could too.

                I passed him briefly as I rounded another corner and went down an aisle of shoes. He didn’t notice I was wearing his sweatshirt. I found my Uggs and slipped them on. I needed to put back the heels, headband and boa and then find my hoodie. I darted around until I found the accessories and then dumped the headband and boa in a box. Now, where was my hoodie?

                “Looking for this?”

                I whipped my head to the right. Standing at the end of the aisle in his black skinny jeans, chunky red sneakers and white, ribbed tank top was Byunghun, holding my hoodie in the air.

                “Hey!” I cried, running towards him. Suddenly he disappeared laughing down another aisle. I ran after him. “You want it? Then give me my sweatshirt!” he cried.

                I stopped running. “Alright…I’ll give you your sweatshirt back. If you do one thing for me.”

                Byunghun stopped running. He was panting. “Okay, what?”

                I waltzed over to him, hands clasped behind my back. I look up at him and batted my eyelashes sweetly. “Sing.”

                “What?” his voice cracked.

                “Sing,” I said simply.

                “You want me to sing?” Byunghun hung his head.

                “Yes.” I nodded once.

                “No way.” Byunghun turned around.

                “Oh, come on!” I cried, grabbing onto his arm. “Please? Just sing for me. Once. I’ve never heard you sing before and I’m dying to hear it. Please?”

                Byunghun looked back at me. “No.”

                Byunghun,” I whined. “Why not?”

                “I’m not a singer. I’m a rapper.”

                “You can sing, I know you can!” I begged, still holding onto his arm. “Please? Just once?”

                “I can’t sing,” he said defensively.

                “Yes you can. I know you can. Please, sing for me just once. Please.”

                Byunghun stopped. He let out a sharp sigh, but took a breath.

“Whoever sees you will say you're lovely
Whoever sees you will say you're pretty
One by one are perfect
There's an angel in my heart
Your pretty face is blinding my eyes
Your bright smile just like a sun
Like a shining star in the night sky
There's an angel in my heart.”

                Slowly, a smile spread across my face. So, he didn’t face me when he was singing. I didn’t care. His voice was exactly how I pictured it. Deep, soft, soothing. I was no musical expert, but I didn’t think he was off key once. He hit every note perfectly and took a breath at all the right moments. His voice was heavenly. Deep, unique, heavenly.

                And he says he can’t sing.

                 “Byunghun,” I breathed out. “That was beautiful.”

                He turned around for a split second. I saw his cheeks were pink. “Alright, let’s go.”

                 “No! Wait!” I cried, holding onto his arm again. I swung it playfully. “I don’t know you could sing like that!” I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

                “I can’t. I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied, hiding his face again.

                 “But you just did! Why are you so embarrassed?” I asked. I grabbed his shoulder and tried to turn him around to face me, but he turned himself around abruptly.

                “You have no idea how nervous that made me, alright? That was the first time in a long time I’ve sung just by myself in front of someone,” he confessed

                “Really?” I said thoughtfully, smiling.

                “Yeah,” he ran his fingers through his hair nervously. His faced was still red. “Um, let’s go.”        

                 “Wait! Don’t you want your sweatshirt?” I asked.

                “Nah,” his voice cracked. “It looks cute on you.”