It wasn't front page news. Of course not. There were always legal papers and too many gagging clauses for that to happen. But people knew. The few who'd been in similar situations, the many others who had dreamed of one day being that lucky... they all saw Junsu's ice-white face, the bitten lips and the rigid way he held his shoulders as he left the company building. And they knew.

It was next to impossible for an idol to meet someone their age who wasn't screaming their head off at their sight or who wasn't either tongue-tied or swooning when coming face to face with their bias. And while they all appreciated their fans, those fans weren't individual people to them, or even individual faces. Fans came in crowds—at least, the supportive ones did. The other fans—those that could scare the out of even the most hardened bodyguards—ran in packs. Quite literally at times. Even if one was so lucky as to be attracted to a beautiful face, sparking eyes or a kind smile, getting to know the owner of said face, eyes or smile was a completely different story altogether.

Most idols worked insane hours and ran on schedules few people could comprehend or were prepared to accept beyond the first flush of infatuation. Dating an idol meant seeing your lover more often on YouTube than in the flesh, talking to them via text or on the phone more often than face to face. Dating an idol meant permitting intrusive vetting procedures, having contingency plans and body guards for going on dates, signing non-disclosure agreements, being treated by the most important person in your life like a dirty little secret. And treating them with just the same secrecy. Because dating an idol wasn't just fraught with legal, commercial and logistic complications. It was actually dangerous.

So when it happened despite all those obstacles and restrictions, when Kim Junsu met a girl, fell in love and started to go out with her, everyone around him crossed their fingers. When months passed and the two talked and laughed and spent more and more time together, other idols began to think that maybe, just maybe, there might be hope for something most of them had given up even dreaming about.

And now, just before their one-year-anniversary, everything had fallen apart.

It had been a long time since Jaejoong had last seen Junsu cry. Longer since Junsu had just curled into his shoulder, head down and body shaking. The man's boisterous facade was usually so strong, able to withstand setbacks and slights, unwarranted critique, tiredness and even physical pain.

Now it seemed as if the breakup had taken more than Junsu's bright smile. Junsu was quiet, pliant, subdued... so unlike himself that a frisson of fear ran down Jaejoong's spine. The passion that usually drove Junsu was nowhere to be found. The fierce determination that made him work through fevers and injuries and schedules with too little sleep and food had bled right out of him leaving Jae to question what was left.

Nobody had expected the split. Nobody had been ready to catch Junsu the moment it happened. Jae knew that by the time his manager phoned him with the news and he'd dropped everything to get to Junsu, four hours had passed. Four hours when Junsu had had nobody beside him.

The thought scared him like few things ever had and he wrapped his friend up tighter in his arms, slid his palms in soothing patterns across Junsu's back, over and over until his breathing slowed and calmed a little.

"All because of one kiss. On stage," Junsu finally sobbed out the revelation. "Can you believe that? I lost everything good because I kissed a girl, on stage in a musical. How ed up is that?"

Jaejoong didn't believe for a moment that this was the whole story. Or even the true reason for the split. The excuse for it, maybe. But the reason? He'd met the woman Junsu had fallen in love with, had liked her for the way she was prepared to take a chance, for cheerfully putting up with all the crap that came with dating an idol. Most of all, he'd liked her because she made Junsu happy, made him glow and sing and write music the likes of which none of them had heard before. She clearly knew what she was doing. And she wasn't stupid enough to make a big production out of nothing. So there had to be something else. Something more.

Part of Jaejoong wanted to wring her scrawny neck. It was a small part. The woman so didn't matter anymore. The young man clinging to him with tears running down his expressive face on the other hand…

"I'll never set foot on a stage ever again," Junsu sniffled, throat still clogged with tears. "What's the point of working my balls off for all these years if I can't have one single thing for myself? All I wanted was sing and dance and make people happy. And now I've realised that I would like to be happy, too."

"You will be, Su-ah," Jaejoong soothed, manoeuvring Junsu so he lay stretched out on the sofa with his head in Jaejoong's lap. "Not today, not tomorrow and maybe not even next week. But you've made so many people happy that you deserve happiness for yourself. And I know that you'll get it."

"I meant what I said, Joongie." Junsu wrapped his arms around Jae's waist and held on. "I'll never set foot on a stage again. I'll write music, maybe. Or… I mean it!"

"You don't mean that at all." Jaejoong didn't bother to keep the smile from his voice, too glad to hear the faint thread of defiance in his friend's voice. "You're a performer, Junsu. You need a stage to live. You were dancing before you came to SM. If you hadn't become a trainee, if you'd never been chosen for DBSK, you'd still have been a performer. You'd be singing and dancing somewhere. You can't not."

"So I'm like Yunho hyung?" Junsu hiccoughed, so out of it that he didn't even remember that talking to Jaejoong about Yunho was… not wise.

Jae didn't remind him. Faced with Junsu's distress, he barely even flinched. And to his own surprise, the answer to the question was easy. "You're nothing alike," he said as he tightened his fingers in Junsu's hair, massaging softly. "You need to perform to be able to breathe. Yunho needs to be the best at what he does. It doesn't matter if that's on a huge stage in Tokyo Dome or in an empty rehearsal room. As long as he feels he's performed perfectly, he's happy. If he'd discovered brain surgery before he discovered dance, he'd have become the damned best brain surgeon in the world. You… you'd still have become a performer. You need to make people happy, Junsu-yah. That's your need."

Junsu didn't quibble over Jaejoong's answer. He just sighed deeply and settled more securely into Jaejoong's lap, pushing his head into the fingers caressing his scalp. "I'm so glad you're here, hyung."

"Don't even go there. I promised, didn't I? When I said always, I meant it."

They spoke no more after that. Jaejoong didn't ask the million and four questions that slithered through his mind like a knot of snakes. Junsu didn't talk about heartbreak or his plans to stop performing. But as his tears dried, his breathing evened and his body grew heavy as he drifted towards sleep, Jaejoong began to sing softly, melody more than words, reminding him of things that would never change, even if the world around them burned to ashes.

Like the sun that shines outside your window
I will be with you wherever you go
Through the night, you'll feel my heart still beating next to yours
Right by your side, forever I will stay
'Til the morning comes, my prayers will speak the truth
Like a whisper on the wind, my voice will call to you

Can you hear me? Can you hear me?
'cross the distance words take flight
Carried on the wings of angels,
are the promises that we all made that night.
Can you hear me? Can you hear me?
Can you hear me?