Sanghyuk spent a decent amount of time sitting on his couch the next day; phone in hand, a sullen expression on his face. Everyone who knew him knew he was not to be bothered when he was so lost in his thoughts, even his roommate, Hongbin, who was now chomping on a cereal bar way too loudly above Sanghyuk’s shoulder, muttering in between chews: “Jaehwan. Who is he?”

Sanghyuk closed Jaehwan’s contact on his phone, rolling his eyes.

“Just someone I met.”

“Is he handsome?” Hongbin asked, climbing over the backrest with much suffering, clearly regretting his choice of sitting down next to Sanghyuk this way. Crumbs of the cereal bar fell onto the upholstery, but Sanghyuk didn’t care. It was Hongbin’s turn in the cleaning that week.

“Why are you asking me if he’s handsome?” Sanghyuk arched an eyebrow at him. “Did you and Wonshik…?”

“Oh, no, we haven’t even decided if we’re officially together yet,” Hongbin said as if maintaining a relationship based on mutual feelings, attraction and for more than half a year but never actually solidifying it by stating that they’re dating was the most natural thing in the world. Sanghyuk didn’t know what was there to think about for so long, especially that on some nights he heard Hongbin yell at Wonshik on the phone that he didn’t feel safe in their relationship like that. But that was a different topic. “I’m asking because of you. You’re moody and grumpy too often nowadays. You could use some… treatment.”

“Yeah, I mean,” Sanghyuk cleared his throat. “He’s handsome. I guess. But I can’t really judge that…”

“Come on,” Hongbin said, throwing his head back in a tired manner. “You’re good at lying unless it’s about crushes. Just call him, invite him on a date, and you’re good.”

“It’s not that easy,” Sanghyuk mumbled. “I only met him two days ago. And, besides, he has someone. He said he had to make dinner for him. And I never said I wanted to go on a date with him, Hongbin, you’re totally misunderstanding me!”

“Liar,” Hongbin smirked, crumpling the wrapping of the cereal bar and throwing it at Sanghyuk, only missing his temple by a few inches. “He probably only has a cat because that’s the type of person you attract.”

“Wonshik has a lizard,” Sanghyuk said accusingly. “To be honest, I can kind of see why he keeps you.”

“Meanie,” Hongbin moaned as he stretched his limbs and stood up. “You go take Jaehwan out for a drink or something and pull your disproportionate nose out of my business.”

With that, Hongbin marched out of the living room, picking up the cereal bar wrapping on his way.

“I have no idea why I haven’t thrown you out of here yet,” Sanghyuk muttered, more to himself than to Hongbin, but Hongbin poked his head back from the doorway saying: “Because I’m the son of the landlord.”

Yes, that’s why, nothing else.

An hour later Sanghyuk, armed with a pocketful of change, headed down into the subway, almost turning back five times on the way, heart racing in his chest. He didn’t know why he was so… excited about the whole thing, maybe because of the stupid, stupid things Hongbin had told him. Asking Jaehwan out—what an idiotic idea! (Or… was it? Of course it was!)

The coins in his pocket jingled embarrassingly as he descended into the underpass, hearing the familiar melody of a guitar followed along by the most amazing voice Sanghyuk had ever heard (and he had gone to a Park Hyoshin concert with Hongbin before). He soon noticed Jaehwan who was smiling at the morose pedestrians like a fool, his happiness automatically tugging at the corners of Sanghyuk’s own lips.

“Bravo, Mr. Artist,” he said when Jaehwan finished the song, fishing out his change and throwing all of it into Jaehwan’s silly black hat.

“Ah, my number one fan,” Jaehwan grinned. “Thank you for your appreciation. Would you like to take a seat?”

Sanghyuk looked at the hard floor Jaehwan was patting next to himself.

“There?”

“You can sit with the audience,” Jaehwan said, gesturing towards the nonexistent audience around him. “But you get to have a VIP seat. Consider your choices.”

“Alright,” Sanghyuk nodded and sat down by Jaehwan’s side.

Jaehwan adjusted the guitar in his lap and started singing a new song. Sanghyuk watched him with an unwavering attention, and when he caught himself, he started playing with the brim of Jaehwan’s hat.

Jaehwan’s voice was most impressive when he sang. It was soft and light, almost careless; it sounded like he didn’t even have to try not to mess up a note, not even the toughest, highest ones. His voice was deep but not overbearingly so, he didn’t sound like Wonshik who talked like a very sleepy bear but like…

Sanghyuk glanced at Jaehwan, the way he formed the words and the crinkle of his eyes and it hit him. Jaehwan’s voice was like those small, separately packaged milk caramel candies he used to eat tons of when he’d been little until his mother realized he was lactose intolerant. Jaehwan’s voice didn’t remind him of the stomach-ache though, but the taste of those candies. It was sweet and fluid in a curious way that you could only experience once you chewed on its friable texture which made it an exciting kind of sweets despite its simplicity. Jaehwan’s clear notes were just like that under the raspy layer of them, and Sanghyuk felt himself enchanted as he listened.

He was in a sort of trans until he noticed someone stopping in front of them and standing there with his brows knit. It was a middle aged man with a facial structure that suggested he was a strict person, and as he judgingly stared at Jaehwan, Sanghyuk started to feel a little protective. He opened his mouth to ask the stranger if there was something he didn’t like, but then Jaehwan’s song ended and he beamed up at the man.

“Hello, sir.”

“Lee Jaehwan,” the man said, shaking his head. “You’re here. Again.”

“As you can see, sir,” Jaehwan trilled.

“You know it’s not right, do you?”

Jaehwan flung an arm around Sanghyuk who jumped a little at the contact, unable to comprehend what was going on before Jaehwan pulled him close, smashing their cheeks together. Sanghyuk couldn’t see, but he had the impression that Jaehwan was pouting.

“But, sir, we’re trying to get money for our wedding,” he whined.

Sanghyuk felt the tips of his ears flaming up at that as if they got physically set fire to.

“Your wedding?” the man asked, taken aback. He glanced at Sanghyuk with utter confusion that Sanghyuk supposed was similar to what was visible on his own face. “But what about you and— Oh. Oh, I get it. Jaehwan. You don’t have to lie to me, I’m not on duty.” The man gestured over his clothes.

“Does it matter whether you’re on duty or not, sir?” Jaehwan asked, letting go of Sanghyuk who still tried to process what was happening.

“It does. I have to let you do whatever you want now, but if I were working now, you would have to pack up your stuff and leave, Jaehwan. You shouldn’t break the law every day.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jaehwan grinned. “I promise I’ll be good.”

“You and your promises,” the man shook his head and left, ignoring Jaehwan’s enthusiastic goodbyes.

“What… I mean, who was that?” Sanghyuk asked, his voice breaking halfway.

“Just a good friend of mine,” Jaehwan said. “A police officer. What I’m doing here is not exactly legal, so he’s a little miffed at me, but he’s cool. We’ve known each other for a while.”

“I see.”

And Jaehwan started singing a ballad song, his entire being glowing; his voice pulling Sanghyuk in like a street lamp attracts moths.