A slight shoulder brushes into Taemin’s side with too much force to be anything other than purposeful, and so Taemin is likewise purposefully slow in dragging his gaze down to the person who just passed him by. He briefly considers brightening his expression and bowing in apology—because appearances and all that —but doesn’t bother when he registers the pretty face glaring up at him.

“Fancy running into you, hoobae,” he drawls lazily. “Especially in a hallway as wide as this.”

Krystal’s eyes narrow and her expression remains as cold as ice at his veiled reprimand; Taemin doesn’t even flinch. “He was beaten because of you!” She whispers furiously, voice low in volume but heavy in blame.

Taemin doesn’t know who she’s talking about and he isn’t sure he cares. Still, who does she think she is, holding him responsible for someone else’s misstep? Idol life taught him to look out for the interests of Number 1; if anyone else is too stupid to do the same, why should the fault fall on him? He takes a step closer, crowding Krystal against the wall with his height, and snorts incredulously.

“I don’t recall physically assaulting anyone recently,” Taemin tells her with a saccharine smile. This is a waste of his time and he has the live taping of a radio program to get to, but Taemin can’t resist the opportunity to put her insolence in place. “As such, however your friend was hurt, I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with me.” He notes with interest how the f(x) beauty’s face flushes; his gut says it’s anger making the blood pool in her cheeks, but her tiny clenched fists and the lip she pulls between her teeth suggest it might be more than that. Interesting.

“You’re an arrogant ,” Krystal hisses, her eyes shining up at him through long, dark lashes. “Just like Chanyeol. Kai’s too good for both of you.”

Taemin’s attention, already wandering ahead to select the character he’ll play on radio later, snaps back to the present in an instant. He doesn’t understand the sudden and overwhelming urge to ask, to know, to beg until the frozen vixen tells him everything; Taemin doesn’t like things that he doesn’t understand, and he wonders vaguely why having Kai sort of in his life again is forcing him to confront so much that he’d rather avoid.

When Krystal s a piece of paper in his face and says “Fix this” like she’s his manager or his mother or something before continuing in her original path with her shoulders back and her head held high, Taemin doesn’t quite know what to do with what she’s given him. It’s a way to contact Kai, of that Taemin has no doubt, but if Krystal gave it expecting an apology, she was sorely mistaken. Taemin doesn’t say sorry, particularly on those occasions when he’s actually done nothing wrong, and he certainly doesn’t worry about the health of a rival idol, no matter how entwined their pasts might be. He doesn’t take blame unnecessarily, either, so he pockets the phone number and forgets about it guiltlessly.

Taemin pulls it out with the same lack of remorse and disregard for others when he’s seated in front of a microphone a couple of hours later and the host asks if there’s anyone Taemin wants to call in honor of his newest single. Shinee’s maknae clears his throat in embarrassment that doesn’t exist and looks down at the slip of paper in his hands. The whole deception makes him endearingly shy, Taemin knows, and he makes sure he’s blushing noticeably for the camera when the host coaxes him into sharing.

“Press It is about love, and ‘Press Your Number’ is about romantic or sensual love,” he reminds the listeners. The host nods along as Taemin follows the script, then looks up in slight panic when Taemin ignores the next lines written for him and deviates. Taemin isn’t worried though; and neither will the host be, not once he figures out what Taemin’s got up his sleeve. He’s not planning, per se, because what’s the point, really, but Taemin’s not above petty tricks to alleviate the boredom sometimes, and he tells himself resolutely that that’s what’s happening now. This is merely a moment to boost his carefully constructed image, and if such an occasion leads Krystal to believe Taemin is concerned for Kai’s well-being, even better.

“But there are other kinds of love too,” Taemin points out knowledgably. “Like the kind between members, or between friends.” He winks at the host and shoots a thumbs-up at his manager who’s lounging next to the door and frowning slightly.  “So I’d like to call an old friend of mine, if that’s alright with you, Ryeowook-sunbaenim? I’m sure Kai would love to say hello to the listeners.” Ryeowook, who’d rolled his eyes at Taemin’s improvisation, perked up at Taemin’s offhanded mention of the EXO member and nodded his approval.

“Is our Taemin-ssi ‘feeling freaky’ for EXO’s Kai? What do you think, everyone?” He grins when the listener comments fill up with keyboard smash clamoring for Kai’s presence on the phone line. “Please,” he gestures in Taemin’s direction and Taemin hides his smirk with a dry cough into his elbow, “press that number!”

Taemin’s hit with the urge to roll his own eyes back at the radio host, but he recognizes that a wayward gaze is more difficult to conceal than an unschooled expression and resists. Instead he smiles beatifically at the camera, hands Kai’s number to the radio PD, and adopts cute poses that make Ryeowook laugh as they wait. Being that adorable maknae figure is as easy as breathing; Taemin does it with disdain.

Ring. The line rings once and Taemin flashes a V sign.

Ring ring. It rings again and he teases an invisible Kai, “Hey! You’re not about to leave me hanging, are you, my friend?”

Ring ring ring. By the third ring Taemin wonders if Kai really is going to leave him out to dry on live radio. He finds himself strangely relieved by the possibility.

Ring ring ring ri—“Hello?”