drop block b questions, they shall answer you. more info, see end-note.

“Oh, look at this! A free pack of sticky notes,” exclaimed a man from the corner of the break room. He made a show of ripping a few notes off and slapping them onto his friends’ heads and weird places.

Zelo vaguely remembered they were also an underground group from Hongdae Below. BAP had never mingled with them, but have seen them in passing. Block B was a hip hop group, while BAP was all about rock. Zelo had heard of their troublemaking tendency and wondered if that was true, or was it just rumours, like the ones that surrounded BAP?

“Hey!” A tall skinny boy from another group whined, getting up from his seat and chased after the culprit who had stuck the post-it on his face.

“Fish-lips is attacking, HELP!” the Block B member screamed, earning a bunch of cheers from the other male idols.

“Get back here, Horse Kyung!” Fish-lips yelled, throwing himself onto Horse Kyung’s back and together they tumbled to the floor as the two groups laughed.

Zelo blinked.

No, it was not a ‘crush’ no matter how insistent Tao and Sehun were. Junhong was definitely not crushing on his bestest friend. Sure, he loved Junhee and she loved him too. They loved each other and any attempt to define their relationship was clearly lost on both of them. Though he wondered sometimes, because he was sure as hell that friends did not just get up one day and start kissing each other and craving for things that they’d only seen in movies.

Despite all that, he did not think it mattered what their relationship was as long as they had each other. Whose to say they couldn’t have this?

Oh, right. The world.

Yes, looking back, “crush” was not an accurate word for Junhong at the time at all. It sounded childish, but according to Tao, a crush came on you like a cough—a sudden, harsh contraction in the ribs, and you would be completely helpless to stop it.

“Look, we get it –”

“No, I really don’t think you do,” Junhong said impatiently, without breaking stride. “And I’m not saying that to sound all, like, woe is me, I’m so misunderstood–”

“Dude, ‘misunderstood’ is tattooed on your arse, I can see it from here,” Sehun remarked, joining in, because Sehun was a douche like that.

“–I mean it in that, like, this is not new information to me. I mean, for gods’ sake, why do I have to coach you two through my feelings?”

The sidewalk ended and he dodged left. It did not, however, shake Tao and Sehun’s mild-mannered pursuit.

Whose idea was Huang Zitao and Oh Sehun, anyway? Like, who looked at the world and thought putting Huang Zitao and Oh Sehun in it was a good idea?

Sehun continued, “All right, fine, you’re right. We don’t know what you’re going through, because, like, nobody went through this before–”

“Wow, not helping.”

“I just want to say thanks,” Tao blurted out.

Junhong paused, but only for a moment.

“You’re welcome,” he said, though he had no idea what he was being thanked for. Maybe if he was polite enough, these two would go away.

Tao tilted a smile at him, like the sarcasm didn’t scrape him like sandpaper. Of course, nothing ever scraped that camera guy.

“For being in love with Junhee,” he continued, and Junhong’s skin just jumped all at once and crawled like it was trying to peel right off his bones and leave them behind. It opened a maw inside Junhong’s stomach like he had got his heart on a noose and it was about to be sent swinging.

He grumbled, “Yeah, because I totally did it for you.”

But Tao wasn’t finished.

“I wouldn’t have known that such friendship exists.” Junhong turned away, but Tao caught him instinctively, a hand against his shoulder the same way people try to catch falling things. “That’s why I’m trying to tell you. Because it means everything. The world feels less damaged because of you. It used to be ugly to me, but now knowing that–”

“I think he means he had no satisfying view for his camera, and now he’s got you–”

“Shut up,” grumbled Tao, turning back to Junhong. “Look, Junhee clearly loves you no matter how you love her; I don’t see why you can’t allow yourself to love her all the ways you want to.”

“You know when she said ‘to define is to limit’, she was right,” Sehun quipped. “Don’t try to define what you have, it’ll just set boundaries on your friend-lovey-ship-thing.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want that?” asked Tao, eyes genuine.

Junhong swallowed, throat clicking dryly.

“Hand,” he said warningly. “Before I remove it.”

And Tao did, not even making a big deal out of it, just being respectful, and Junhong kind of wanted to stab him and his little friend anyway.

“Here, kid,” said a voice from his elbow. Zelo looked down just in time as a man shove a carton of yoghurt drink into his hand.

“I don’t want it,” said Zelo rudely before he could stop himself.

The man seemed unperturbed as he hitched his eyeglasses up his nose, a basket of milk cartons in the other arm.

“Then give it to somebody who does,” he said shrugging. “Fans gave us too many. We don’t like yoghurt.”

Zelo stared. He thought the guy was a staff.

“What group are you in?” he asked warily.

“Block B. I’m Taeil, the voice.”

Figured, the bassist thought.

“Oh, hold this for me, I’ll be right back,” said Taeil, and before Zelo could react, the little man produced a permanent marker from his hand and shoved it into Zelo’s before running out of the room as though he badly needed the toilet. Zelo frowned, turning around the void break room, looking for s. The noises of Fish-lip and Horse Kyung were still going on, now featuring catcalls and improvised raps that strung along the lines of insults.

Holding a yoghurt drink in one hand and a marker in the other, something flew at his head. He hissed, whipping around just in time to see a stack of blue post-it bouncing off of his temple and falling to the floor.

What the was this chaos?

He bent down to pick it up, absently noting that the hyungs were not in the room. He glanced around only finding other male idols and a few staffs. Hastily, Zelo made his way to the closest table, which was a makeup desk, and stared at the blank stack of stickies. He might as well write something. He didn’t want the drink either.

Zelo decided not to give Junhee a direct answer.

Before he could change his mind, he scribbled a quick one word onto the note, ripped it off and slapped it hastily onto the drink, stashed the drink in his jacket pocket before making his way out of the room to look for people he actually knew.

x

It was supposed to be the start of summer, the sky was high and very blue, and a tall figure came out to the rooftop where Juniel was staring down at the Seoul scenery from Naver Corp. The young man threw himself onto the ledge where she was leaning startling her for a second. He flicked his thumb across his phone. The blue glow from the screen caught on the bead around his neck.

Juniel pushed her egg sandwich towards him in offering. He had an air of wistfulness about him.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the other half and taking a bite, tilting his wrist as the dressing trickled down the heel of his hand. He was good looking in that unpredictable kind of way. He had a fox-like face that gave him a witful demeanor. But his dark eyes were inked in like liquid pools, filled with memories, experience and…age. They did not fit him at all, Junhee thought. He was her age, yet the glimmers in those black orbs made him seem so much older. 

Then he put his phone away in his pocket, looked down at her and said around his mouthful, “If the relationship is toxic, then you need to get out.”

“Excuse me?” she said in surprise. And then, “How did you know what I was thinking about?”

He was wearing the standard idol skinny jeans with buckled boots. He wore a yankee snapback over his messy blond hair and his eyes were animal-like, especially with the smudged eyeliners. His lips were cherry red and full in the kind of way that made anybody wonder what his mouth would taste like. He was tall, and his large plain white tee ruffled mildly against the summer wind.

He smelled like sawdust and hay, like those corn mazes that popped up everywhere in the autumn. It was comforting yet unreal.

“You’re human,” he said patiently. “You know houseflies, right?”

“No, I’ve never heard of them,” Juniel deadpanned, because she had all the self-preservation skills of one of those moths that flutter straight at a zap light. Or, she just wanted to stall. She was sure she’d met him somewhere and have misplaced that memory.

The young man lifted an eyebrow, his expression as mild as a spring day. “You know,” he said, and casually stretched an arm down, touching the tip of his finger to the centre of Juniel’s chest. Immediately, every bit of metal in Juniel’s clothes sprouted a white feather; the zipper of her blue jacket a sudden long vine of summer peppermint. “I like you a lot better when the only significant thing you can do is fly.”

Obedient, and a little worried, Juniel jutted out her lip and said, “Okay. Listening.”

“Right.” Her zipper suddenly had teeth agai