Waiting for the vans to arrive to pick them up, Jongdae plops down beside a yawning Minseok and gently nudges him with his elbow. "Hey, hyung," he says, donning a half-smile. Minseok glances at his face and assesses how tired he looks, though he doesn't dare comment on it as he knows he is in the exact same state. "Hey," Minseok replies, dabbing the sides of his face with a towel. "God, I can't wait for dinner! I'm starved."

 

Jongdae gives a chuckle, the light in his eyes very much alive even after hours and hours of dancing. Perhaps, Minseok muses, that's one of the qualities he really both admires and envies in Jongdae; he was mature, responsible, hardworking, and yet the way his eyes sparkled never went away. It was always there. Like a baby's steady heartbeat, it was fragile but alive. 

 

Jongdae hums in agreement, "Me too. I think I'll need to use the shower first though. You wanna go ahead?"

 

"Mmm, nah. It's okay, I'll let you use it first this time," Minseok replies, shooting him a quick half-smile. Leaning back on his hands he sighs, closing his eyes and rotating his shoulders. Another yawn attacks him, and his fatigue drops down on him in waves. Absentmindedly Jongdae starts humming. Opening his eyes, Minseok reaches for his bottle and swallows the remaining contents as their manager alerts the boys to the arrival of the vans.

Jongdae halts his humming. Under the studio lights, his eyes zoom in on the few tiny rivulets of water unintentionally streaming down Minseok's jaw and chin. The elder one tuts and brings his towel to his face. Feeling someone's gaze on him, he looks right at Jongdae, but right as their eyes meet Jongdae whips his head around, coughs violently into his towel, and gets up to follow the other members out the studio.

 

Minseok decides to stay back for a while, silently observing Jongdae's retreating back. It's just that... Jongdae's been acting like that lately. Or maybe it was just him and a couple of delusions paired with a whole lot of overthinking... but no, no, he's pretty sure there's something.. weird going on in between him and the main vocalist. He couldn't precisely put his finger on it and yet it's there, dangling in front of him in plain sight. He might as well be blind since he can't pinpoint what it was.

 

Fueled by his curiosity (and the sight of their manager), he springs up and walks toward the door, hollering, "Yo Jongdae, wait up!"

 

He jogs up to Jongdae and pats his shoulder then pulls him in for a cheeky side hug, intending to just poke fun at him, that's all. And yet this time...

 

Caught unawares, Jongdae whirls away, eyes crinkling in suppressed mirth but also something Minseok misses before Jongdae recovers, his hand flying to the back of his own neck. The main dancer, equally startled at his response, watches with bated breath a tint of red rising up Jongdae's neck and spreading to his cheeks. He could swear on his life that it wasn't there before.

 

"Hey!" Their manager, seeing that they've stopped walking and are just gawking at each other's faces, mouths opening and closing like fishes struggling to breathe, casually butts in. "You guys alright?" he chimes in. Jongdae clears his throat rather too loudly, a clumsy, a little too exaggerated smile wedging itself onto his handsome face. 

 

"Y-yeah," Jongdae weakly assures their manager. Minseok, trying to act unfazed, nods, although he's not sure if every thing's A-OK. Jongdae frantically pivots in his place, and adds, "Oh shoot, I forgot my duffel bag, ahahaha! Waitformeguys," before dashing across the room. 

 

Watching him walk away, their manager rubs his stubble and turns to Minseok, expressing his concern, "Is Jongdae okay?"

Minseok carefully replies with a small smile to appease their worrisome manager, "Yeah, I think he's doing fine. Just tired, like me, and the rest." He backs his opinion up with a worn out half-smile. The manager nods in understanding. Well, it was true, and highly believable.

He claps Minseok on the back. Minseok winces because he's cognizant of how sweaty he is, and, consequentially, his clothes are. Their manager calls back to them after exiting the room, "Don't take too long."

Shortly after, Jongdae's by his side and they start walking to the vans.

 

The ensuing silence is awkward, the kind they have never really had to deal with before. It's suffocating, and Minseok fights the urge to wring his hands. 

 

"Hey, sorry about earlier," Jongdae tells him, catching his eye before looking away like he's done multiple times now. "I'm pretty sure I smell like a garbage truck after sweating all day. I don't want to infect you with my stench," Jongdae nervously laughs off, breaths shallow, smile unwavering but the rest of his body language broadcasts that he's uneasy. 

 

Sometimes, Minseok thinks Jongdae forgets that he knows him too well. Sometimes, he wonders if Jongdae thinks he's stupid.

 

Unconvinced and unaware of what he did wrong, Minseok opts to just shrug and laugh it off too. "Sorry, Jongdae."

 

Jongdae shakes his head, that same smile still masking his face. "It's okay.

 

"Oh yeah, I gotta say something to Baek real quick. See you later." Jongdae waves bye at him. Minseok reciprocates, saying, "Yeah, sure!"

 

Right before they enter their respective vans, Minseok surreptitiously takes another glance at Jongdae. He's seen cackling beside a loopy Baekhyun, their arms s around each other's shaking shoulders.

 

Minseok lifts an eyebrow.

 

Interesting.

 

*

 

They both choose to eat dinner in their room, even though Jongdae's smile seems fake. As soon as Jongdae exits their bathroom, squeaky clean and smelling like flowers, a towel wrapped around his waist, Minseok slips past him and closes the bathroom door. He unceremoniously sheds his clothes and stands under the shower head. He could've eaten ahead of Jongdae since Sehun delivered their portion of Chinese takeout fifteen minutes ago, but it's an unspoken rule that they dine together, chat while they're at it, which Minseok anticipates more than he would like to admit. He leans his forehead against the wet bathroom tile, the water dripping down his back, and he wishes it could wash away all this confusion in his head.

 

 

Without having to strain to hear, he listens to Jongdae belt out a ballad. He paints a picture of—no, he can vividly see him using his comb as a microphone, swaying a little in front of the mirror near the door to the living room, and it lifts his spirits albeit infinitesimally. Grabbing his bar of soap, he pushes these thoughts to the back of his mind to deal with again later. 

 

Whatever this delimma was, he will fix this. They're going to fix this. 

 

They have to.

 

*

 

Dinner is abnormally quiet. Eerily so.

 

Minseok doesn't think it's only in his head, but he thinks he can definitely hear crickets chirping by the window. 

 

And Jongdae is slurping his soup and noodles as if he's on mute, which is awfully uncharacteristic of him. 

 

They take turns peeking at each other, chewing slowly, mechanically, and it's as if they're participating in a game. Whoever is caught looking has to speak up and start a conversation.

 

The seconds tick by until Jongdae is caught red-handed in the middle of drinking. He puts his glass down on the table with a hesitant thud. 

 

"So, uhh..." he starts, eyes flickering around in panic. A laugh bubbles up inside of him again, but it falters as soon as he sees Minseok attentively looking at him with his head cocked to the right. His eyes seem to plead.

 

Jongdae tries to man up—It's just your old pal Minseok! God, Jongdae! Hello?! You're in a Hallyu star group, you've performed in front of thousands of people, and yet!—but instead stammers out a squeaky, "What?" 

 

Laying down his chopsticks, Minseok sighs and scratches the back of his head. It's then and there that Jongdae sees that not only is his friend physically fatigued, but he seems to be emotionally drained too. On top of that, he's irritated too. Jongdae has the sudden urge to crawl to his side and ask him what's wrong when—

 

"Tell me what's wrong, Jongdae," Minseok begs. Jongdae blinks, ears perking up at the dismal tone in his voice. "Did I do something that offended you again? I'm sorry, whatever it is. I apologize. Really," Minseok continues, hands in the air, surrendering to something he doesn't even understand. Something Jongdae wish he'd never find out. At least, not in this lifetime. Not ever.

 

Jongdae doesn't know what to say, but it's only a breath later until the other says more.

 

"I just—" Minseok rakes a hand through his hair, an act that Jongdae rarely sees him do. "You're there, always. We see each other every day. We sleep in the same room, share the same bathroom too. You and I. But I can't help missing you. It's like there's this glass in between us and I want to penetrate it but you've made it in a way that makes it impenetrable. And I'm—Why? I don't understand. Why?" 

 

Minseok is breathing too hard, too fast, fists clenched, face twisted in pain. A kind of hurt that Jongdae now realizes he inflicted on him, even though he did so unknowingly. The clock on the wall ticks away to his inhales. The cricket outside sings to his exhales. This silence is different. It's more defeaning, and there's too much space. Too many blank spaces and ellipses and empty speech bubbles. Too many unsaid words on the tip of one's tongue. To Jongdae, the clock is a pendulum, and it's swinging to the palpitating beat of his broken heart. 

 

His pulse paints the room a hundred shades of red as he lifts himself off the ground. He can't shake Minseok's stare off him, and it's driving him crazy, makes him feel and raw, open, puts him in the limelight so everyone can see he's broken and still breaking.

But he decides he wouldn't have it any other way. He can't afford to up now.

Every step feels heavy, but inside he feels as light as a leaf dancing in the autumn air.

 

He bends down beside Minseok, hands finding their way on his broad shoulders. On Minseok's face reads a thousand questions he's about to answer.

 

"This is why," he whispers, arms trembling, voice quaking. He closes the distance.

And kisses him.

 

Minseok has only ever kissed one girl in his life, and he's not really embarrassed about it or his lack of experience. If he remembers correctly, Jongdae shares the same sentiment. It was, frankly, an insignificant topic, one they've had two years ago just to have something to talk about. Their first kisses were laughable, silly, actually pretty forgettable if it were not their firsts. The firsts always had to count, though Minseok can't comprehend why.

 

But just as Jongdae leans in, the memory resurfaces, but it disappears as quickly as it came. Because then, when his lips land on Minseok's, everything fades away and the only thing that matters is the heady warmth of his mouth.

 

The earth beneath them shifts. Time stops. The planet might as well be spinning too, too slow. And there, in Minseok's mind, a light switch has been . And everything is crystal clear.

 

Wow.
 

 

Neither of them doesn't know who stops, who parts away and has to gasp for air, but what Jongdae knows is he doesn't really want to stop. Never. Minseok's hands are in his hair and everything's absolutely perfect.

 

Until Jongdae realizes he's somehow crawled onto Minseok's lap. 

 

, , ! Abort, mission! Abor—wait what was the mission in the first place?! Never has he ever freaked out this much. Never ever. Mom dropping him off at school in front of the cool kids and kissing his cheek goodbye catastrophically pales in comparison. What the , don't think about Mom! Oh , , sorry, Mom!

He flies off of Minseok, a display of legs in the air, and a colossal barrage of apologies tumbles out of him. He almost upsets his glass of water on the table which makes the other guy flinch. When he looks back at Minseok his breath hitches as if he's on radio which makes his ears burn an alarming tomato red. ABANDON SHIP.

 

"So..." Jongdae reluctantly ventures, coughing into his mouth. Where his lips are. Which Minseok, KIM MINSEOK, his beloved friend and roommate and fellow member, his trusted brother, had touched with his own. Uh... ? "Does that, umm, answer your question? Or should I, uh... Minseok, has it occured to you that uhhh..." His sentence crumbles and fades away, and he thinks he just lost his train of thought. Or, even worse, his voice. Their manager was not going to like this. Way to go, Kim Jongdae, you smooth son of a gun.

 

Wide-eyed, Minseok blinks once, twice, before standing up and sitting on his bed, crossing his legs, and beckons a stunned, deer-in-the-headlights Jongdae over with a pat on the sheets.

 

Hurriedly, Jongdae follows, barely catching himself from stumbling on his own two feet, which, apparently, don't know what they're supposed to do in a situation like this, and sits himself right beside him. He maneuvers his legs under him and just as he's about to face the other again, Minseok wraps his arms around his neck and brushes their lips together, testing the waters, before diving in.

 

It shouldn't be this intoxicating. It shouldn't be this exhilarating. Jongdae wonders, Is this how Wendy felt when Peter Pan sprinkled Tinkerbell's fairy dust on her? This emotion that he can't get enough of, the feeling of having your feet lifted off the ground. He imagines himself on the edge of the top of a skyscraper, but he's not held back by his fears. Abandonment, rejection, disgust—they're not there. Instead he steps forward and floats. There, he can soar. There, he sees Minseok. There, he is free.

 

They've known and loved each other for years, but now that love has changed, at least that much is obvious. It's evolved and now there are infinitely much more to learn, to know, to bask in and discover for better or for worse. They've done everything together. But not this. Which makes it tricky, makes it daring, makes it them.

 

Minseok's thumb caresses his nape. Goosebumps rise in its wake. Relaxing in his touch, Jongdae can't believe this. Can't believe that his feelings, the ones that have opened his eyes but also frightened him to a terrifying, miserable degree, are being reciprocated. 

 

He can't believe how much God loves him. Thanks, God.

 

He's sure his heart isn't ever going to stop racing.

 

When they part a second time, it spills out of him which surprises him as much as it surprises Minseok, "I was watching you dance today. Did you know you dance so well? Your every move is captivating. I thought I couldn't breathe because of the choreo, but it was because of you. And I've—"

 

"Sorry to interrupt, bud, but that's so cheesy and I can't believe you said that." This time Jongdae blinks too much, stuttering in response. Minseok eyes him for a while then playfully hits at Jongdae's shoulder. The most infectious, brightest smile graces the elder friend's face, his cheeks threatening to explode, and Jongdae swears it instantly lights up the room. The entire solar system. It puts the sun to shame. He now understands what it means to be "shook". He now understands all those wholesome memes intended for one's significant other. Minseok, this wonderful boy in his arms, laughs and laughs until he joins in, crafting a ballad of their own. Unexpectedly Minseok's hands dart to Jongdae's sides and he's tickling him, the sound of laughter amplifies, until they're a flurry and tangle of limbs on his bed. A chain reaction of candid smiles.

 

For one second, just one, Jongdae wants to cry. He knows it's foolish. He feels like an infant, but he thinks it would feel great in this state of relief he's in. It's like a dam has been released, a weight lifted off his shoulders. It's now easier to breathe and move and plainly be. Yes, he wants to weep. But Minseok holds his hand, traces the lines on his palm, gives him an eskimo kiss and a butterfly on his palm and he's happy. He's undeniably, beautifully happy. The world keeps spinning and spinning and spinning. Everyone keeps living and living and living. And the world is boisterous place, all chatter and din and chaos, but here, in Minseok's arms, no words have to be said. There is no space to fill. They have been gifted an answer to the echo in the dark. There's fear and trepidation, yes, but there is also love and... home. A dream infused in reality. A leap of faith turned into a walk on the beach, hand-in-hand, the waves gigantic and powerful. It roars in their ears and lures them in. And there, in the deep, they are okay.

 

To the world he is Xiumin. To the world he is Chen. 

 

Right now, right here, they are Kim Minseok and Kim Jongdae. Flawed, crooked, wanted, loved. And that's where things finally fit just right.

 

A hundred and twenty linked heartbeats later: "So, Jongdae... you have a crush on me, eh?"

 

Jongdae almost chokes on his own spit.

 

*

 

Sehun wakes up, groaning when he checks the time. "Hyung," he whines, "what was that?"

 

Junmyeon mumbles incoherently then restates, "I think that was Jongdae yelling. Probably practicing for our next tour. Go to sleep, he'll stop soon." In a whisper he adds, "He better."

 

The maknae yawns, turning away. "Yeah, okay, okay. Night night."

 

In the dark Junmyeon mumbles grumpily, "These kids and their yelling competitions." 

 

 

 

"Remember, schedule at two," Junmyeon says for the umpteenth time, shutting the door behind him.
 

As soon as they're alone again, Jongdae claps his hands. "So! Where was I? Ah, oh, yes. You have pretty collarbones," he proudly points out, "that are so so pretty, I would break up with you for the chance to be with them."

 

Minseok, who was smiling ear to ear, rests his head on his boyfriend's right shoulder and guffaws. "You'd leave me?" he queries, hand smacking his own thigh in hilarity. "For my collarbones?"

 

"Mmhmm." Jongdae draws senseless patterns on the other's wrist, their hands tightly clasped. "Also, you move and sway your hips in a way..."

 

Nudging him to go on, Minseok helps out saying, "In a way...?"

 

"Inawaythatmakesmewanttododirtyunspeakablethingstoyou." 

 

Minseok moves to look him in the eye, a gummy smile steady on his face. "What?" 

 

Jongdae curses under his breath, gesturing around and it almost looks like he's swatting flies with his bare hands. "Nothing! Nothing," he sputters. "I'm just pretty much obsessed with your hips. Your hipbones. Your p-pelvis. That's all."

 

Minseok's laugh fills all the gaps inside Jongdae, and he feels like he's just landed on the moon. Without a spacesuit. But he couldn't care less. He's going to die happy, as long as he gets to see his favorite star shine.

 

 

The boy in his thoughts can't help pecking his cheek, mischievously grinning at the words he just said. In a flash—Jongdae barely squawks out an undignified "YAAAAAAAA!!"—he's on the vocalist's lap. Before Jongdae can yelp out a complain, Minseok silences him with an index finger on his lips. "My turn!" he cheerily declares in a singsong matter. He then leans impossibly closer, one's breath tickling the other's. 

 

Never mind, Jongdae thinks, as his boyfriend's finger stays unmoving. There is no one as treacherous and deplorable as Kim Minseok.

 

"Let's see, hmmm..." Minseok squints. "Aha! I, for one, love your lips." He traces Jongdae's lips with his finger. With his other hand, he cradles Jongdae's jaw, fondly his cheek. 

 

All the while Jongdae doesn't know where to keep his eyes on. He thinks he might pass out.

 

"I love your smile more, though. It might just be the best thing about you. I love your toes, too, especially when we're lying side by side playing footsie. I wish the world could see your toes. They're the cutest toes in the world!" Jongdae snorts while Minseok continues. "Same treatment must be done to your forehead. I just—don't look at me silly!—like your forehead a lot. I don't know if you've noticed, but when you sleep beside me I always end up kissing your forehead the most."

 

Visibly, Minseok's facial features soften. A lump forms in Jongdae's throat.

 

"I love your laugh. I could be having the tiest day and feel rejuvenated after hearing you laugh just once, even if I wasn't the reason why.

 

"And you say that you're fixated on my hips, but, man, bro, dude, love," he says, gently tugging on Jongdae's pink earlobe, smiling that smile that doubles as a smirk. "I wish you paid more attention to the way your hips move. You watch me dance sometimes, you say, and so do I with you. And, Jongdae, let me tell you: your hips don't lie. Now I don't think I have to inform you how breathtaking your vocal skills are because damn Jongdae, you kill it. Every. Single. Time."

 

Jongdae has this ridiculous, triumphant look on his face and he knows he looks like a doofus right now. Just as he's about to counter to Minseok's words, Minseok kisses him full on the mouth. And it's slow. And it's hot. And Jongdae can't think but he also wants to think a lot of his bodily urges away. Sorry, Mom. Grandma. Great grandma. Great aunt.

 

Minseok pulls back with a pleasurable smack. "But there's one thing that's much, much better than the sum of all that. Something which I love the most. Someone.

 

"You."