For references as to what Jihoon and Soonyoung look like during this story, refer to 1, 2, 3, or 4.

Thank you everyone who commented, subscribed, upvoted and read this lil story! I'm really, really appreciative of any support that you have to give, and I'm sorry for the long wait for this second chapter. This is a slower chapter, and functions as the transition to the next part of the story, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. 

***

Jihoon was going to perform at After Hours. He didn’t initially want to, when his Composition 401 lecturer announced the acoustic event during their morning lecture- when Jihoon was still bleary from just waking up and most likely dressed in the sweater he went to sleep in. In fact, he had immediately shoved that thought to the back of his head in favour of thinking about breakfast (which he missed, as usual, attempting to get to class on time). But Seungcheol, bless his morning-person heart, immediately grabbed Jihoon’s arm, effectively shaking him awake, and aggressively whispering that they had to join into his ear.

“Du-uude, we have to perform! You and me! We’d be ing fire,” he had whined, pulling an impressive set of puppy-dog eyes on Jihoon. And Jihoon wasn’t impervious to cuteness- especially from Choi Seungcheol- as much as he hated any form of it.

So, Jihoon was sitting cross-legged on his bed, tuning his ty second-hand guitar with Seungcheol perched on Soonyoung’s bed across from him, shuffling through the scores that he and Jihoon had shortlisted earlier on. Soonyoung had mysteriously disappeared, despite Monday afternoons being his allocated nap-time (“Don’t look at me like that; I can see you judging me. Naps are vital to my health and sanity, Jihoon.”).

“Officially Missing You?” Seungcheol suggested.

“Dude, aren’t you sick of that song? We never stop singing it.”

Seungcheol sighed, nodding reluctantly in agreement.

“Okay, then Warm Foothills?”

“Neither of us have the voices for it, you know that.”

“Uh, how about Mumford and Sons? Little Lion Man, maybe,” Seungcheol suggested.

Jihoon paused, thinking. He plucked out the beginning chords: A-minor, A-minor, C, C, A-minor. “That could work. And it’s an old song, so people would probably know it well enough to appreciate it even if we .”

Seungcheol frowned, hitting Jihoon with the stack of scores. “Dude, we won’t . Remember, we are fire.”

Jihoon and Seungcheol hadn’t always been friends. When they met each other in their Intro to Composition tutorial, Jihoon had hated Seungcheol and his almost-commanding attitude. They were partnered up by their tutor in a welcome-to-college project where they had to write a song about each other- a light-hearted task that Jihoon loathed. It took all of his strength to not fill half the song with insults and the other half with expletives, because Seungcheol was such a throughout the whole song-writing process. There wasn’t a single session where Seungcheol had not tried to force his opinion down Jihoon’s damn throat, and in return, Jihoon wanted to strangle him. But, a drunken night on a roof later, where Jihoon learnt about Seungcheol’s ridiculously harsh parents and Seungcheol learnt about Jihoon’s own ed up family, they reached an understanding amidst two six-packs of cheap beer and a small flask of vodka appropriated from the kitchen, marking the beginning of their now-impenetrable friendship.

Jihoon couldn’t help but smile at Seungcheol, and nodded in agreement. He and Seungcheol had performed many times together before, whenever they had the chance, whether it was at showcases or small gigs. Their on-stage chemistry was amazing, and Jihoon knew that. He could already imagine the opening chords echoing in the small room, the bright lights washing out their features so that the sound of their voices and the acoustics will be the main focus for whoever bothers to listen.

Seungcheol softly sang the opening lyrics (Weep for yourself, my man, you'll never be what is in your heart), and Jihoon picked out the notes, studying the score. His smile developed into a grin as he imagined the scene taking place before him. Seungcheol glanced over, matching his grin with one equally bright.

“I told you,” Seungcheol whispered gleefully. Jihoon snorted and set his guitar aside, and picked up his phone instead. His mind was distracted, and he knew that it was because of Soonyoung. He knew that his roommate was a man of habit and tightly scheduled management, and could only think of one reason as to why he would stray from his neatly colour-coded timetable. Jackson. Of-ing-course.

Soonyoung and Jackson, according to what Soonyoung had told Jihoon (which was plenty, he seemed to like sharing the details of his relationship an awful lot), had been dating since the start of fall. They inevitably knew each other, being in the same department, and had eventually crossed paths when Soonyoung’s lecturer referred him to the Year One ballet instructor for some classical input on his end-semester performance piece.

(“She said that it was too modern, as if that was a thing,” Soonyoung had scoffed, as he and Jihoon played a game of Halo. “But I suppose I can’t complain, since she basically introduced me to Jackson.”

Jihoon withheld a groan as he shot an enemy in the head, suddenly jabbing his controller much more aggressively.)

Soonyoung had apparently had a long-standing, don’t-you-dare-ing-call-it-Petrarchan crush on Jackson, and he was only too pleased to seek out the 24 year old teacher. Turns out, Jackson was smitten with Soonyoung the first time he saw him dance- which was a little superficial, if you asked Jihoon, but no one ever asked Jihoon. Sadly, Jihoon knew that if he saw Soonyoung dance, he’d be similarly afflicted. Working on Soonyoung’s piece together meant that the two spent many late nights together in the dance studio, bonding over fast food delivery and the quiet of the school at midnight.

Dancing is intimate, or so Soonyoung tells Jihoon, and the two had admitted their feelings in a classic, clichéd movie confession- after a long day of practice, pressed into each other’s personal space, bodies hot and sticky. It was a soft kiss, only meaningful in that moment, and Jihoon’s heart hurt learning that, and hurt even more looking at Soonyoung’s smile at that memory.

, he had it bad.

“What’s eating you?” Seungcheol tapped Jihoon on the knee. Jihoon groaned and tossed his phone onto his pillow, shoving his face in his hands.

“Nothing,” he replied, voice muffled.

“Is it Soonyoung again?” Seungcheol asked gently. Jihoon groaned again, standing only to drape himself over Seungcheol’s lap. Seungcheol smiled, only too familiar with Jihoon’s need for touch, and penchant for closeness.

“No,” Jihoon mumbled, face pressed into Seungcheol’s stomach. There was a moment of silence, before Jihoon rolled over onto his back, staring up at Seungcheol’s face. “I don’t even like him. It’s just because he’s not a ty roommate.”

Seungcheol frowned, but didn’t reply. He glanced up when he heard the door open, and tapped Jihoon when Soonyoung called out a greeting. Jihoon only pushed his face into Seungcheol’s stomach again, as if that could hide him from Soonyoung’s return.

“Sorry I’m on your bed,” Jihoon heard Seungcheol say apologetically. “I’m kind of stuck.”

Jihoon sighed and rolled off, softening his land on the floor with his hands. Seungcheol yelped, unprepared for Jihoon to drop, and his hands uselessly reached out to grab Jihoon. Jihoon sat up and ruffled his hair, leaning against the bed.

“Dude,” Soonyoung laughed, lightly kicking Jihoon’s foot. “I know I look good but you didn’t have to literally fall for me.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, and leaned over to punch Soonyoung’s shin. “Shut up, where were you? What happened to Monday morning nap?”

Seungcheol interrupted their exchange by standing up abruptly, scores in his hand and a weak smile on his face. “I’m going to head back first; I have some work to finish up. We’ll talk about the performance later, Jihoon. See you guys later.”

Soonyoung watched his exit then shrugged, immediately dropping down and stretching out on his bed. “I had a consult with my Japanese Language prof. She’s offering me another trip to Japan to get some interviews from this Linguistics expert and to source out some books for the new classes.”

Jihoon made a soft noise. “That sounds cool.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I should go. The performance department’s showcase is coming up and I still haven’t finished choreographing my piece. It isn’t flowing right,” Soonyoung sighed.

“I get it,” Jihoon replied, suddenly not wanting to hold a conversation with Soonyoung. His head was starting to hurt.

“Also,” Soonyoung carried on, eyes trained on the ceiling. “Jackson said that he wanted to talk. I have a feeling I know what it is about.”

Jihoon turned to look at Soonyoung. He had heavy dark eye circles, worse than he had ever seen on the man, and his face was tired, and sad. “Are you guys okay?”

“I knew that we wouldn’t last,” Soonyoung said softly, hands clenching and unclenching. Jihoon wanted badly to press his hands into his, and smooth out the tenseness in his joints. “I mean, he’s gorgeous, and talented, and older. I knew that he’d get tired of me. And it’s not like our relationship could ever be public.” He turned to Jihoon with downcast eyes. “Thank you for not telling, by the way.”

Jihoon chewed at his bottom lip, and finally sat on Soonyoung’s bed, fingers prying open Soonyoung’s fists and lacing their hands together. “Soonyoung,” he said, voice hushed and private. “You are beautiful, and gifted, and it is a shame if Jackson cannot see that. It that you two are in a position where you cannot date easily, but things will work themselves out. If you two end up going separate ways, know that it is for the best, and it isn’t the end of everything either. You will still have so much more to give, because you are worth so much more than this relationship.”

Jihoon’s head was hurting too much for him to feel anything else other than a dull ache. The room was deadly quiet, except for the steady ticking of the alarm clock on Soonyoung’s bedside table. The sun had set in the time that they were talking, and the room was shadowed in the seven o’clock light filtering in from their blinds. Jihoon could see Soonyoung’s eyes tracking his own, his lips parted in a small ‘o’. The press of Soonyoung’s thigh against his hip suddenly felt heavy, and the warmth of their joined hands shot up his arms.

Soonyoung slowly sat up, and Jihoon watched as he tugged his hands out of Jihoon’s grip and slipped them around his waist instead, pulling him into a tight hug. His face was pushed into Jihoon’s neck, the tips of his hair brushing Jihoon’s ears.

“Thank you,” Soonyoung whispered. Jihoon’s head was pounding, and the thumping filled his ears. He slowly returned the embrace, and rested his chin on Soonyoung’s shoulder, closing his eyes and concentrating on savouring the moment. Soonyoung eventually drew back, and Jihoon saw that his nose was a bright red, as if he was trying to hold back tears. Jihoon’s arms were still hovering around Soonyoung’s shoulders, and he looked carefully at Soonyoung, who had his head bowed slightly. Jihoon hesitated, then ran his fingers through Soonyoung’s hair, petting him and tugging out the knots.

Soonyoung sniffed loudly and leaned into Jihoon’s touch. “Sleep with me tonight?” he asked, eyes puffy and bottom lip held between his teeth. Jihoon in a breath and nodded slowly.

Soonyoung pulled Jihoon under the blankets, and they lay facing each other. The light from behind Soonyoung cast a shadow over his face, but illuminated Jihoon’s features. Jihoon thought that it was awfully symbolic, and he blamed Soonyoung for the sombre, almost-poetic mood.

“Thank you for being you, Jihoonie,” Soonyoung whispered hoarsely.

All Jihoon could hear now was the steady thump thump thump of his heart. He was afraid Soonyoung would hear it.

***

“Today, we’ll be briefly talking about one of the greatest and most influential songs ever written- or at least,” Mr Claine rapped sharply on his desk, as if to punctuate his speech, “in my opinion. This is The Righteous Brothers’ Unchained Melody. Does anyone not know of this song?”

A few hands rose nervously and Mr Claine huffed out a sigh. He was one of the few lecturers who refuse to use a microphone in their lessons, preferring instead to project his voice to the room of two hundred odd students, and Jihoon liked him because of it. He found that it gave Mr Claine much more character in teaching, and gave Jihoon something to properly concentrate on.

“For the people who have not heard this beautiful piece, your additional assignment is to go listen to it on your own time. Now- let’s move on quickly. You all have to first understand why Hy Zaret wrote this song. Can anyone make a guess?” Mr Claine moved over to his laptop, opening up the lyrics on the screen and displaying it on the projector.

A person near the front- a quiet girl with a spatter of freckles across her nose and a bandana holding her hair back- spoke: “Perhaps it’s him waiting for the return of his lover. Maybe they went to war, or left for somewhere far, and he’s aching for a reunion.”

Mr Claine nodded encouragingly and gestured for others to offer their own interpretations.

“Is he sending the song to someone who is no longer with him? Because he repeats ‘are you still mine?’ several times, as if he’s questioning himself, or speaking to the stars that he mentioned. As if the person has left, maybe passed away or left for someone new, and he’s mourning or lamenting,” a boy behind Jihoon suggested.

A few more hands shot up and Mr Claine picked a loud bespectacled girl near the middle. “I think it could be about a willing separation that he is regretting. Like he is having second thoughts about whatever split happened.”

“Very good interpretations, all! They are all very valid, as the meaning of a song is always specific to any individual, just like the meaning of a poem or a movie. It is very worth knowing, however, that Hy Zaret wrote this song about his young, unrequited love for the prettiest girl in his neighbourhood,” Mr Claine paced the front, his hands moving animatedly.

Jihoon’s thought involuntarily flickered back to Soonyoung upon hearing ‘unrequited love’, and immediately shook the thought away, frowning at himself.

“Hy Zaret had written Unchained Melody as a young man with all the feelings of desire, need, and longing for the girl he was too shy to ever approach,” Mr Claine continued, coming to a standstill, his hands firmly behind his back as he scanned the lecture theatre. “This is partially why the song is so timeless, because the meaning itself transcends time. It is not historical, and therefore not stuck in a specific time period or era. Despite it being written in 1936, the pure and organic nature of raw human emotion poured out so intricately into the song’s lyrics allows it to be felt and appreciated even today.”

Jihoon slumped into his seat and spun his pen in one finger, staring blankly at his table, so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Mr Claine come to a stop beside him, hands still behind his back and eyes piercing.

“Distracted, Mr Lee?”

Jihoon grimaced and quickly sat up, bowing his head quickly as he muttered an apology.

“Thinking about an unrequited love of yours?” Mr Claine teased, tapping Jihoon on the shoulder, as if to tell him that he was not in trouble. Jihoon flushed red and stammered out a ‘no’, head still bowed but eyes blown wide open. All he could think about again was damn Soonyoung and his perfect ing everything.

Mr Claine grinned, and nodded understandingly, patting Jihoon on the back- a fatherly gesture that made Jihoon blush harder- and stepped back to the front of the lecture theatre, continuing on about the structure of the song.

I’m so ing gone, Jihoon groaned internally.

Last night, with Soonyoung just a breath away from Jihoon, was everything Jihoon thought impossible. They had woken up with their legs tangled, and their bodies bowed towards each other. Soonyoung had smiled, sleepily, and Jihoon wanted to open his eyes to that soft curve of Soonyoung’s lips every day. Soonyoung didn’t have morning classes, and Jihoon had to wrench himself out of bed- and without any inappropriate action on his part, such as leaning it for a kiss or just touching him. His hands ached to touch him.

Soonyoung had sent Jihoon off while still in his bed, buried under his white blankets, his hair a mess of blonde and his eyes still closed.

Jihoon only tuned back into the lecture in time for its end, with Mr Claine shouting out a reminder of the After Hours performance, Seungcheol caught Jihoon by his arm before he started to leave, a look of concern on his face.

“Are you okay, dude?” Seungcheol asked, mouth twisted into a frown.

Jihoon smiled weakly and nodded, pulling his arm free from Seungcheol’s grasp. “Just a lot to think about, don’t worry about it.”

“Practice later?”

“Not today, sorry,” Jihoon winced. Seungcheol looked disappointed, and Jihoon felt a surge of guilt at his dejected face. Even as Jihoon speed-walked out of the lecture theatre, he could feel Seungcheol’s eyes trailing after him, and his heart never felt so heavy.