the next few days are a whirlwind of charged emotions and lithe limbs flaying about. where the dancers were nonplussed about the 'no story' performance a mere while ago, they now scurry about the studio soaked top to toe in sweat, snapping at anyone who dares interrupt their practice.

jongin sees this, and jongin (sort of) understands. he was not the only one to be given a storyline. the others, too, have stories to tell.

as usual, though, jongin is the only one who stays till late. only the back lights are left on and the receptionist has left and so have all the dancers, filing out in a sea of chatter and anxiety and quiet, subdued hostility. the past few nights kyungsoo's popped in as per normal, left him a greeting and a pleasant feeling in his chest, and tonight is no different.

jongin's just finished a particularly tough segment. he's still reeling from the sensation of not being kai.

"jongin-ah!" kyungsoo calls out. he's long since given up on knocking. 

jongin is still in a bit of a haze, but he's present enough to hear the nickname that kyungsoo's suddenly given him and that lovely feeling, the one that makes his chest swell just so, comes flooding in as it's done so everytime he hears his name slip out of those lips.

kyungsoo walks in, undeterred by the lack of response. he can tell jongin is panting, sweaty. 

"i realised we don't have each other's numbers," he says. "here, lend me your phone, i'll key my number in."

the wide-eyed boy stands a few feet in front of the still-reeling dancer, looking expectant and, of all things, a little nervous. jongin can tell; he can tell from the way kyungsoo leans on one leg a little more (he usually has great posture, an even balance on both lower limbs) and the way kyungsoo is chewing on his lower lip. 

usually, jongin would smile a little, tell his hyung to wait a moment and march off to get his phone. but there is a sudden surge of courage, one that prompts him to take a step closer to the smaller boy and smile. (and he can see the smile, the smile does not look like his. the smile looks like a smirk, and he does not smirk.)

"i'll just key mine in first, then," he says. the words that come out are not his. he takes kyungsoo's phone right out of his hyung's grasp - a simple iphone, one that's been out for a year now - and he notices the slightly surprised look on kyungsoo's face. "there you go, all done. just drop me a text and i'll save your number in."

kyungsoo blinks once, twice. it is funny, jongin thinks, as he watches those large eyelids flutter open and close. he thinks, if he had a lover, he would want a lover as endearing as the boy standing in front of him. but he quickly pushes those thoughts away, because thoughts of lovers and romance are for the strong and opportune and charismatic, and jongin is none of those.

"sure," kyungsoo smiles, and it's one of those large smiles that hit you right in the gut. "do you want to grab dinner?"

jongin is taken aback. it is a thursday night, and usually nothing different or special happens on thursday nights - only on fridays, where kyungsoo will invite him out for dinner and he will accept cordially. he wants to say yes, yes, of course he wants to grab dinner with kyungsoo-hyung, but he is not the same boy who walked up to kyungsoo a minute ago, knowing full well that the dim lights capture the sweat beading on his collarbone just right, not the same boy who dared to smile wickedly and smirk and take the first step. 

and so, he doesn't answer. 

"It's alright if you're not free! just a thought."

jongin wants to shout out no, no, of course he is free, this is kyungsoo-hyung we're talking about. he wants to reach out and stop the boy who's inching toward the door, inching away from jongin.

he clears his throat. "sorry. tomorrow, then?"

kyungsoo beams again, one of those rare rectangular smiles of his that gets jongin right in the gut and the chest and everywhere else. 

"whoa, your hair." 

jongin lifts a hand up into said hair automatically, fingers threading through the newly bleached strands. his once relatively normal brown locks are now a startling shade of silver, a stark contrast against his dark skin, and he is not used to the strange stares he gets as he walks down the street. jongin doesn't want to turn heads.

"it looks stupid, i know," jongin sighs. 

sehun frowns a little, mouth contorting into that strange shape that looks as if someone's suctioned his lips off, scrunches his nose.

"no, it doesn't look bad. just different." then he waggles his eyebrows at jongin, who returns the look with a deadpan expression. "i'm sure kyungsoo-hyung will have something to say about it."

oh, right. . the fact that he's got a dinner session (date? no, no. jongin doesn't date, jongin never dates.) with kyungsoo later completely slipped his mind the moment the instructor had strolled up to him and sent him to the hairdresser's. he looks like some sort of freakshow, fresh from the pages of some cliche dystopian novel, or the silver-haired protagonist of an anime, and he just knows that kyungsoo will laugh at him and wonder how someone so stupid and dumb was ever allowed in the wide-eyed boy's presence.

jongin doesn't want to think about what will happen, though, because it will just make him more depressed. as much as the uncertainty of the future irks him, he would much rather have that than picture a condescending look on kyungsoo's face. (because it is not the kind of look that suits him.)

"what did luhan say about yours?" jongin asks, pointing at sehun's new hairstyle. they'd been seated beside each other at the hairdresser's for two hours, sehun supplying the conversation and jongin supplying the sanity. 

sehun shakes his head vigorously, letting the newly dyed rainbow strands fall in front of his eyes. his hair is green and blue and red and yellow and pink, like someone spilled a whole carton of skittles onto his head. 

"he hated it," sehun says. but his voice holds no hostility or sadness or disappointment. instead, there is mild amusement underlying his words, and it is times like these that jongin thinks sehun is actually more mature than he acts. "but i convinced him to dye his hair pink, anyway. to match."

"he actually agreed?"

"i can be very persuasive." there it is again, that knowing look. then sehun smirks, arches a brow. "maybe kyungsoo-hyung will match with you too."

"shut up."

he glides across the wooden floor, enjoys the silence that comes with being the only one left. this is how it always is, is it not? to be the last one standing, to be the last one on stage. the music is secondary to the freedom and fluidity that comes with the movement of his limbs; and he watches, watches as his body twists and bends to the sound, marvelling at the sheer wonder of it all.

his hair is a different colour now. he does not know why, just knows that it has transformed from its previous dull brown to an eye-catching silver. he thinks it makes him look a little mad, but figures that it does fit in alarmingly well with his personality. 

the song reaches its peak just as his world shatters. 

"what happened to your hair?"

the questioning voice is a familiar one, and he smiles to himself as he remembers that the very mouth uttering those words once rested themselves on the side of his jaw. 

he is frozen in the middle of his pose, arms stick straight by his side and gaze forward, staring into the mirror. his eyes follow as the boy enters the studio, closes the door quietly, walks toward the dancer. their eyes meet in the mirror. a chill runs up his spine, one that is tantalizingly delicious and sends his heart and mind into a frenzy and makes him want more.

d.o. stands behind him, and he is small enough that the dancer's frame almost completely enshrouds his. the wide-eyed boy reaches a hand up into the dancer's bleached hair, runs his fingers through the threads as though caressing silk, letting the strands fall apart in his hands just like how the dancer's heart falls apart in his eyes.

"you could match, you know." 

"of course."

he blinks, and the next second, the wide-eyed boy with heart-shaped lips no longer has a head of typical black hair; instead, his locks are a deep maroon and styled into an undercut. he wants so badly to thread his own fingers through the red strands - and because this is real - he does.

"what happened to your hair?"

kyungsoo's questioning voice is familiar but the tinge of incredulity not so, and jongin wants to hide his face in his hands but he cannot because that would be embarrassing. as usual, he is the only one left, so kyungsoo freely enters the studio, closes the door quietly and walks toward the dancer.

"it's for the performance," jongin explains. he is sure his words come out shaky and soft but his heart is thumping too loud for him to hear anything, even his own voice. "it looks stupid, i know."

"no, no. it looks good," kyungsoo reassures. he reaches a hand out tentatively, as if making to reach for jongin, but then retracts it and jongin wants so, so badly to tell him no, don't go. his voice is hesitant. "can i touch?"

"uh, okay."

he can't quite feel kyungsoo's fingers because they are on his hair (not his scalp) and his hair is made up of dead cells (at least, that's what luhan-hyung once said), but it sends a shiver down his spine regardless, one tantalizingly delicious and he swears his heart is thumping so loud he is certain kyungsoo can hear it. 

"even though it's bleached, it still feels so soft," kyungsoo remarks, almost absently, eyes still staring at jongin's new hair. then he removes his hands, and jongin has to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching out. "i'm thinking of dying mine too, actually. what colour would be good, you think?"

the words slip out before jongin even notices, and he is certain they - like the smile from yesterday - are not his. 

"red, of course."

A/N: why am I writing this it is almost 1am and I have an important as f exam tomorrow morning and I am waking up at 6.30am. anyway hope you enjoyed this, note that I am half-dead and so this is probably not very well-edited. I hope you can see the parallels /winkwink thank you for all the subscribes and comments y'all are brilliant