Of course, it wasn't a secret, their names and faces too well known. The men serving with them were no screaming fangirls, but many had sisters. And what with Jaejoong humming snatches of songs that didn't yet exist while he worked, and Yunho turning any enticing pattern that he came across into dance moves, their identities were hard to keep hidden.

There was the expected amount of snark and ribbing. There were requests to autograph small gifts. There was even a brief outbreak of crazy on Twitter, until their superiors put a stop to that. Jaejoong took all of it in stride. He checked in with his family, talked every week with Junsu and Yoochun, and even with his manager, scribbled snatches of lyrics and melody on random bits of paper when he could, and otherwise did what he was meant to do.

He didn't speak about the wave of kindness and quiet support that cleared tiny pockets of time in his schedule to let him focus on writing music. He never mentioned how his comrades' machinations ended with him and Yunho in an empty training room and how emotion choked him when he heard the snick of the latch behind his back.

Instead, he accepted the gift he'd been offered and smiled through wet lashes.