“I hope you’re enjoying yourself there.” Baekhyun reclined all the way back in his seat, giving Kyungsoo a look through the glass in the recording studio.

“Hm?”

“Exactly.” Baekhyun huffed. “This really is a good song, Kyungsoo. If you told me what’s up I might be able to help you. Is it too many shows?”

“Too many shows? No, the shows are fine, I guess. I’ve been looking forward to this all week, actually.” You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this.

“I’m flattered,” Baekhyun responded. “But if you want me to believe you it’d be nice if you didn’t space out on me quite so often. It’s like you’re depressed or something.”

Kyungsoo looked at Baekhyun through the glass a moment, his eyes catching the low light of the lamp and the dim blue of the dials on the soundboard. Baekhyun was strange when he was serious; his mouth dipped into a tiny frown and he became nervous, as if he were doing something anethema. Being serious.

Kyungsoo had been in his head or in another country for long enough that he’d forgotten the power of a serious Baekhyun. “Actually,” He swallowed. “Actually I had some lyrics I wanted to bounce off you, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” his voice echoed through the microphone, smoother and clearer cut than it sounded in real life.

“You have lyrics?” Baekhyun’s eyebrows drew together. “You’ve never said a single thing to me about lyrics before. You should have told me right when you got the bug to write something, I would have booked us a writing session instead. Come on over.”

Kyungsoo opened the door between the recording booth and the studio and sat nervously on the edge of his chair, wheeling over to his backpack. “You’re gonna call me crazy,” he mumbled with a small smile as he reached into the backpack and brought out a thin notebook, all the pages peeling and clearly written all over.

Baekhyun raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been busy.”

Kyungsoo just shrank into his shoulders a little bit and brought out another small notebook, equally full, and then another. Three in total. Baekhyun was having trouble hiding his astonishment.

“Kyungsoo,” he said, his voice hushed, his mouth dipping downwards. “Kyungsoo, you must have been writing constantly for the past week to fill notebooks like this.” He reached out a hand, picking up the first notebook like it was some sort of prized piece of art, flipping to the first page and scanning it quickly.

“It’s just something to distract me.” Kyungsoo replied, watching Baekhyun’s face intently.

“What did you do to distract yourself before, I wonder?” Baekhyun mumbled. “What the happened?”

It was a good question. He’d watched random videos on his phone, he’d rehearsed in his head, he’d answered emails. There was usually something to do. He’d stared into space a lot, letting his mind unwind from its normal state of manufactured frenzy. But now the frenzy didn’t just go away when he took a deep breath; then, a different kind of preoccupation came on, and it had honey-brown eyes and glowing tan skin.

So, to keep his itching fingers from texting Kai, he’d begun writing whatever came into his head down. The first notebook he’d borrowed from Manager Hong, who’d given it to him incredulously along with a pen. After the show that night, instead of passing out, Kyungsoo had asked for a pen again, producing the same notebook. From then on his managers began carrying around extra pens and even extra notebooks.

It wasn’t the only change. He’d totally missed that Manager Hong got a girlfriend a week ago, although he was sure he’d told Kyungsoo at some point. He laughed at things he wasn’t supposed to on variety shows, uncontrolled giggles that were noticeably different from his normal laugh. Everyone knew his laugh for things he was supposed to laugh at. Laughing was a skill he had as an idol. Now sometimes he just stared blankly when the MC said something with a knowing smile, expecting at least a chuckle.

Kyungsoo shrugged. “What do you think happened, Baek?”

“I think you fell in love.” Baekhyun played with the stressed pages idly, his delicate fingers too thin for the rings on them. There was a silence as the words dripped from the air.

“Have you ever felt like half the passion of music is manufactured? I mean, I think that might even be the goal for some companies, for some people.” Kyungsoo chewed his lips, his eyes running over the words in the second notebook.

“Ah, yes.” Baekhyun released the page and brought up his legs to sit cross-legged in the chair. “The passion factory, that’s us. Look, it hasn’t bothered you before. Taeyeon always says it’s about compartmentalizing. It’s a shame you don’t have a stage name or something. You’re all mixed up with your public persona. You never have been before, so it’s never been a problem.”

“I guess.” Kyungsoo frowned. Mixed up with his public persona. “Baekhyun-ah, do you think I could leave you with these for the night? I forgot there’s somewhere I need to be.” Baekhyun looked up from the notebook. Already he was reaching for his phone, undoubtedly to call Chanyeol in for an emergency writing session.

“Mm-hmm.” Baekhyun didn’t look at him as he shrugged his jacket on and zipped up his backpack, but Kyungsoo felt his eyes on the back of his neck as he left. It occurred to him that he’d never seen Baekhyun so concerned about him.

Perhaps he’d just never noticed.

The cobblestones shone smooth under the orange lights, just like they had what seemed like ages ago. There was a different band today, not as good as it had been when he’d come with Kai, but smiles lit everyone’s face just the same. Kyungsoo felt his chest loosen as he walked up to the dancers and slipped between them, clumsy at first but learning quickly; after all, if anything, he knew how to practice. He knew how to learn quickly.

He didn’t introduce himself once, and no one asked who he was. Hands and hips and asses brushed against him but it was never more than a passing touch, a quick burst of warmth and pressure. Kyungsoo had never really considered himself a dancer. The band was becoming tired, the singer taking breaks for eight measures at a time. Kyungsoo drifted towards the fringes of the dancers until he was finally next to the stage.

“Can I?” He asked, pointing at the microphone, standing above the swirl of the crowd. Up on the stage, he could see a fair ways down the river, and it rippled merrily as if inviting him to enjoy himself. The woman who’d been singing shrugged, handing him the microphone, looking ready to seize it if Kyungsoo was just some drunken bum who couldn’t sing. We Are The Tide. He had no idea where he’d heard the song before, but he knew it like the river was whispering the words into his ear, and the masses shifted to dance along with his voice. He smiled as he sang.

“Do Kyungsoo! Do Kyungsoo!” The shouts came from the street and Kyungsoo’s head snapped around. A few flashes and he was off the stage, cursing wildly. But they’d surely seen him. He wanted to kick himself—did he truly believe there was anywhere sacred, anywhere where he could be someone else forever?

This was why he wasn’t talking to Kai. It wasn’t for any other reason. It was because Kyungsoo had never gotten to know who he would have been if he’d been anonymous to the world. He didn’t want to take that knowledge away from anybody. Like Baekhyun had said, he was all mixed up with his public persona. Hopelessly mixed up.

“Kyungsoo!” this shout came from the other direction, from the docks. Kyungsoo wanted to laugh. Yixing stood with his feet wide apart, waving with wide, exaggerated gestures. Kyungsoo quickly gave the microphone back to the singer and scrambled down and through the people down to the dock, where a strong breeze blew his hair back and made him squint.

“What the are you doing here?” He asked, fighting the urge to laugh.

“I’m watching over you!” replied Yixing loudly so he could be heard over the wind. He looked paler than usual but a smile lit his face in the dim light of the moon and the streetlights. “You might not be able to see Kai, but what’s to keep me?”

So Yixing saved him from being discovered. When he got a text from Kai the next day, Kyungsoo just couldn’t resist. Lounging against the wall, waiting for Baekhyun to be done fiddling with whatever he was fiddling with, he snapped a quick picture and sent it before he could second-guess himself. His stomach dropped when he got the texts after that, of course, but he turned his phone all the way off so he wouldn’t respond. He had a cause. It made him sing even sweeter.

The sky was in a misty mood, rolling with puffy grey clouds. Kai’s parents’ house was not what he’d expected. Spending most of his time in cities, Kyungsoo’s concept of a nice house was a penthouse suite with a view of the city, like Kai’s—although Kai’s apartment was rather small since there was only one person living in it.

This house was situated on a hill and could more accurately be called a mansion. A meandering driveway, intricately cobbled led up the slope to the steps which eventually led to a large doorway. It looked like a fortress.

Kyungsoo was torn between staying in the car and calling Kai to see if he’d let him through the gate and getting out of the car himself to try to figure it out. He was dressed in his finest suit, freshly ironed, and his stomach was doing backflips and contortions gymnasts would envy.

He decided to get out; he felt closed in in the car and the air outside was sharp and crisp, threatening rain. A light wind played with his styled hair. The driver leaned over to ask if he should stay; Kyungsoo told him to come back in a few hours and wait. Then he was alone in front of the imposing cast-iron gate, looking up at a modern castle. It was the sort of place chaebols would hire him to play at for a huge party.

“Kyungsoo.” His name was whispered behind him, low and deep, making him shiver and his heart jump. He whirled to see Kai standing behind him, under a tree by the side of the road, looking eerily similar to how he’d looked the first time they’d met at the art exhibition.

It made Kyungsoo wonder whether it had all happened: the excessive fainting and the dancing and the painting. Kai strode towards him with long steps, all at once enveloping him in his scent and his warmth, his warm, soft hands cupping Kyungsoo’s face delicately.

“Hi,” whispered Kyungsoo, sure his eyes were as wide as ever. Kai looked like he wanted to kiss him, but instead he just took Kyungsoo’s hand in his and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Come on,” Kai said, pulling Kyungsoo towards the shade from which he’d emerged. Kyungsoo followed on willing feet, stopping Kai once it seemed like their newly-shined shoes were in danger of falling victim to the mud.

“I thought the dinner was up there.” He pointed to the house.

“It is.” Kai’s features were unusually drawn, not sleepy, not happy-go-lucky like they usually were. He looked uncomfortable. Nervous. Well, Kyungsoo supposed they were in the same boat there. “But... I have... I haven’t told you even half of my story. I—told you what you asked about, but I’ve realized that that’s just—it isn’t going to be enough for this night.”

Kyungsoo swallowed, holding tight to Kai’s hands, the chill wind not seeming quite as friendly.

“Twenty-two years ago, a boy was born named Kim Jongin. He had synesthesia, he was gay, and he had a penchant for not allowing unfair things to go unnoticed.” Kai wasn’t looking at Kyungsoo, but instead over his head at some invisible child long ago. “His parents figured all three of those things could be fixed, so they attacked them all at once, for eighteen years.” Kai’s eyes flickered, and he looked down at Kyungsoo.

“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you? You don’t think there’s something... just... wrong with my mind?”

“I--I don’t know...” Kyungsoo’s voice was rough at first and had to clear his throat. This wasn’t the way he’d expected the night to begin. He’d been prepared for battle and instead he’d been given a glimpse of the broken pieces swirling behind Kai’s eyes. “I never viewed you different because of how you see the world. It never even occurred to me to—to do so.”

Kai was looking at him intently, studying his face, staring into his soul. “I could swear...” he trailed off, then began again. “I could swear my mind chose you without me even knowing. You’re kinder to me than anyone has ever been, and you don’t even consider me handicapped or superpowered.”

Kyungsoo frowned. He was the kindest person Kai had ever met? Ever? Kyungsoo could name a hundred people who were probably kinder than him. It hadn’t ever been an adjective he’d used to describe himself.

“Kim Jongin died officially on December 22, four years ago, after costing his parents a veritable fortune to ‘fix’. I just—I want you to understand how extreme my parents can be, before you meet them yourself. It wasn’t enough for them to, to cut me off, to disown me, to pretend I didn’t exist. They said I drowned while we were sailing. I was a kid, I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t—and this is funny—” Kai smiled ruefully—“I didn’t know whether it was weird to cry at my own funeral.”

"Is that why Jinah calls you Jongin?”

“Technically, her husband is dead.”

“Wouldn’t she get your... whatever was left to you?” Kyungsoo furrowed his eyebrows. None of it made sense.

“Here, you have to give her credit. It was before she figured out I could paint. She followed me after death, even though the saying only goes ‘till death do us part’. She didn’t see a cent of my parents’ money. It was amazing. I’m not sure I could have done it. She married me for that money. She really did.” He swallowed, his eyes getting far away again. “But we’ve all changed since then.”

“Kai, tell me this—you still want me to call you Kai, right?” Kyungsoo hoped he was guessing right. If it was him, he wouldn’t want to have to remember all that because of a name. He wished he could start fresh, with a new name. Kai nodded, a small smile of appreciation appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Are you sure you even want to do this? They can’t introduce you as their son, right? You have to be somebody they’re just acquainted with.”

“I want them to see how sane I am,” Kai replied, his jaw working. “They called me insane for so long.” his voice cracked a little.

“Ok then.” Kyungsoo smiled up at him. You have no idea what’s waiting for us, he wanted to say. But he didn’t want to add more stress to Kai’s plate. “Shall we?” He turned to walk back towards the gate, and yelped when Kai drew him back and wrapped his arms around Kyungsoo, bringing their faces together.

“Thanks for coming,” Kai whispered, his breath hot and minty. “I don’t know—you make me sane.” He was shaking a little bit, Kyungsoo realized. What it must have taken to tell him his story. Kyungsoo smiled, wrapping his arms around Kai’s warm waist.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly. He could almost see the purple leaving his mouth in a puff, how Kai saw it, how Kai painted it. Kai kissed him once, briefly, just a press of the lips, and then released him altogether, beginning to stride towards the gate on his own, his tall figure imposing against the grey background.

The house was all lit up for the night. Kyungsoo rang the door and there was a humming moment of tension as they waited, and then the door was pulled in and a tall woman stood before them with a pinched mouth and hair pulled tightly back. “This will be Kim Kai and—well, you must be Do Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo could see the resemblance: Kai’s mother had the same ears, the same chin as Kai. They were similarly built. He bowed to her, putting on a smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms.Yeong.” Kai bowed too, and she cast a glance over them as they filed into the house. Booming laughter echoed from the dining room.

The light was bright and warm, emanating from a huge crystal chandelier high above them; the ceiling was a few stories high in the dining room. Jinah lounged at one end of the table beautifully, her hair shiny and her dark blue dress flattering, her phone lighting her face in an eerie glow. A thin man sat at the head of the table, dressed sharply with salt-and-pepper hair. Next to him sat a portly, balding man dressed impeccably, his glasses shining as they reflected the candlelight from the table.

Kyungsoo stopped short at the entrance to the dining room, feeling Kai and Ms. Yeong come up behind him.

Now he was the one shaking, and he hated that he’d been right. All at once he felt terribly for Kai and angry at the people who’d put in the effort to try to do this to him.

“You,” he said, his voice low and steady. The balding man looked up from his conversation and paled when he saw Kyungsoo.

The room fell silent as everybody looked at everybody else.

The balding man stood, smoothing his coat nervously. “Mr. Kyungsoo. I didn’t expect to see you here.” his voice was warm and inviting, just asking the room to trust him, to believe whatever came out of that jovial mouth.

It was the perfect voice for a professional grifter.