They are perspiring, with skins burning with heat and oozing with sweat when they sit down at the front steps of the stage. 

There is something funny about the way they are seated but everyone barely pays any attention to it. Baekhyun flops down on his right side with his short legs bent out forward and as usual, he has a mike in his hand. 

Chanyeol is on the far left, looking ready with his guitar resting on his lap. And of course, he is there, clad in navy blue dress shirt tucked into his black slacks while wiping the beads of sweat rolling down the sides of his forehead. 

Jongin has an urge to ask Baekhyun to swap place with him; firstly, he can't stand the lovesick gaze the elder is sporting. It bothers him so much. Not out of jealousy but out of annoyance. Chanyeol is dense as usual, if not even denser. These two have too many issues on their own which Jongin would not want  to explore.

When he finally lowers his head and sweeps his gaze over to the expanse of his bronze skin bathed in the glow of sweat, Jongin spots the ribbons on loose, hanging unlaced by his chest. Great. Life has not taught him how to tie except mere shoe laces because no one is going to be his Yoo Si Jin to kneel down to knot it for him.

He tries to mimic their stylist’s action but his memory of a goldfish is not serving him well; he forgets the next step after folding one of the ends up, forming a small loop with his left lace. 

The dancer sneaks small glances at the male preoccupied with his damp tissue as he pats his sweat dry, hoping the elder would notice his little struggle. Kyungsoo does soon enough when he peeks up. The elder raises a questioning brow while mouthing words of ‘do you need help?’ 

Kyungsoo doesn't wait for Jongin’s response for his hands has already found their way to the other, picking up the lilac straps after he has placed his tissue and mike down on the platform behind them. 

“This is not how you do it.” He chides softly, palms hovering above Jongin’s bone,