3… 2… 1…

Jongup takes one step to the right side of the door, ignoring his classmates’ confused looks. Seriously, by this time they should’ve already foreseen the outcome-

Daehyun slams the door open, the wooden panel narrowly missing Jongup’s face by an inch.

“Jonguppie!” He yells, causing a few people to cover their ears.

Having an art major, on top of that a musical theater art major, barge into a dance lesson that just finished is about as nice as listening to one of Yongguk’s history rants, to which Jongup still has nightmares about Karl Marx, with Yongguk’s face, chasing him.

The sound of Daehyun’s feet shuffling into the room is almost enough to conjure those images, almost. “Jonguppie? Jonguppie, where are you?”

Jongup stays hidden behind the door, not even chancing a peek at what is most likely a, once again musical theater arts major, Daehyun on the verge of a melodramatic tantrum.

“Is he sick today?” He asks, and Jongup can imagine the nervous expressions on his classmates’ faces.

They know that he knows that they know that he’s the one in charge of the spring performance. He also knows that they know that Jung Daehyun is a widely discussed topic in the practice rooms, starting with “always keep him” and ending with “the away from Moon Jongup”.

“No, he can’t be sick.” Jongup hears how Daehyun starts to pace back and forth. “I saw him earlier today, in the cafeteria, before faith broke us apart in the form of different schedules, different departments, different…”

Jongup almost sighs, almost, but chooses to roll his eyes so hard that he nearly has a headache instead. Daehyun probably has a hand over his chest, lamenting the “irreversible, wretched reality that we’re both plagued with” (his words not Jongup’s).

“Lives,” Daehyun ends, sounding close to tears. Jongup would most likely feel a bit guilty for hiding if not for the fact that Daehyun pulls this at least twice a week. “Alas, that is the irreversible, wretched reality that we’re both plagued with.”

Jongup makes a mental note to stop being near this man, he’s clearly rubbed off his drama bacteria on him.

He can hear a couple snickers here and there, but they’re quickly silenced as Daehyun stops pacing. Jongup freezes behind the door.

Daehyun starts walking, this time his steps sounding determined as he crosses the floor. Jongup holds his breath, praying to God; even Yongguk faced Karl Marx, that he won’t be discovered.

“Choi Junhong,” Daehyun says in an all too calm tone. Jongup nearly swears. “Do you have any idea where Jongup is?”

Just like how everyone knows that he’s in charge of everything, they also know that Moon Jongup would never, ever, punish Junhong. Junhong, the youngest who not only managed to join their grade thanks to his dancing prowess, but who also might be the kindest, most naive kid that no one dares to mess with. Not because people in general are nice, but because Junhong's too nice.

The exception being Daehyun though, since Daehyun’s definition of ‘nice’ and 'annoying’ has an all but nonexistent line separating the two.

“U-Um,” Junhong stutters, too good-natured to outright lie.

“Could he perhaps still be here?” Daehyun asks, high-pitched singing voice morphing into a deeper, more serious tone.

Jongup recognizes that because he’s only ever heard Daehyun use that tone when serious things are or have occurred, or when he wants to with people. The problem is, no one else in the room knows this, especially not Junhong.

“He’s…” Junhong gulps, and Jongup braces himself for the inevitable. “He’s behind the door- hyung I’m so sorry I didn’t-”

The door, the cover, the blessing sent from above (Jongup really has to stop being near Daehyun), is flung to the side revealing a grinning Daehyun.

Jongup instinctively goes stone-faced.

“Jonguppie!” Daehyun exclaims, immediately throwing his arms around him like a koala clinging to a tree.

Except koalas are endearing, not infuriating, and Jongup isn’t a tree, despite the many freshmen who’ve bumped into him in the most open areas.

“I missed you,” he wails, wiping away a fake tear. “How could I have not seen you?”

“Because I was hiding from you-”

“That door, just like faith, wanted to separate us.” Daehyun glares at the wooden panel angrily, as though it’s personally offended him.

“No, I just didn’t want to see you-”

“But now we’re together, and nothing will come in-between our lo-”

“I should’ve figured out this is where you’d be.”

Daehyun and Jongup both turn to the, rather annoyed, voice, belonging to none other than Yoo Youngjae.

Daehyun yelps, but doesn’t let go. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of Jongup’s neck. Jongup finally sighs, trying not to be hyperaware of the curious looks from his classmates.

Youngjae could care less. He marches over, pulling Daehyun off of Jongup with minimum effort, in turn drawing all the attention to himself. Jongup decides that gods and old historical figures with Yongguk’s face on them be damned, he’ll pray to Yoo Youngjae from here onwards.

“Sorry,” Youngjae says, a sheepish smile on his lips. “He said he had an errand to take care of, but I should’ve known he’d be here.”

Jongup shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“I hope he didn’t bother all of you too much…”

“Not really, we’d just ended.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll make sure he won’t stay for longer.”

Daehyun trashes in his grip to no avail, a hurt look on his face. “Have you forsaken me too, old friend?”

“Shut up.” Youngjae shakes him for extra emphasize, causing the other man to whine. “The whole world doesn’t revolve around you.”

Daehyun opens his mouth, a retort ready to be launched, but promptly shuts it at Youngjae’s impressive death glare. It’s one of, if not the, only time Jongup has seen someone capable of shutting Daehyun up without using excessive force. He makes another mental note to erect a shrine for Youngjae.

The idea would be creepy, if not for the very obvious fact that the whole university might have one big fat crush on Youngjae. Jongup doesn’t. Though, that’s because, according to Himchan, he’s incapable of any human emotion if not related to dancing. But, even he acknowledges that Youngjae is the reason why the musical theater department’s reputation hasn’t gone down the drain thanks to a certain Daehyun.

“By the way,” Youngjae murmurs, halfway through the door still holding onto a, now, sulking Daehyun. “Have you guys set a date yet for the spring performance?”

“Not yet,” Jongup replies, ignoring the desperate look Daehyun shoots him, “but we’re thinking around the end of April.”

“Alright,” Youngjae smiles at the other students. “I’ll definitely look forward to that, and I’d like to apologize once more for this mess that this… Thing, created. I promise, it won’t happen again!”

The other people in the room might as well have collectively sighed with the way they gaze at him. Jongup rolls his eyes, but returns the smile with a tiny one of his own; Youngjae deserves at least that much.

“Make sure you listen to Jongup,” he continues while on his way out. “And remember to not only work hard, but rest well too!”

A chorus of approval echoes in the room as he exits. Yet, one voice stands out amidst the rest.

“We will, thank you sunbaenim!” Junhong calls out; voice a tad bit higher than usual as an embarrassing blush colors his cheeks.

He gets one, two elbow nudges, knowing smiles directed his way. Before anyone can comment though, Youngjae suddenly pokes his head through the doorframe.

“No worries, Junhong-sshi,” he grins. “I know you’ll do well.”

As fast as he reappeared, he’s gone, leaving a stunned group behind. Jongup shakes his head; Youngjae has no idea what impact he has on people. Or perhaps he does.

Junhong’s desperate attempt at covering his less than discreet flushed face states otherwise. Jongup’s pretty sure that Junhong’s crush on Youngjae can rival that of the entire university. The boy can’t even glance in the other man’s direction without looking as if someone threw a tomato at his face. If it had been anyone else, they’d be made fun of. But this is Choi Junhong; hence all he receives are sympathetic looks and supportive pats on the back.

Youngjae, being the densest person to walk this planet too, only adds more salt in the wound. Despite Junhong’s crush being obvious with a fat capital 'O’, Youngjae is simply too oblivious to notice. Which is why with each carefree smile that Youngjae tosses his way, Junhong sinks deeper into, what Himchan calls, the bottomless abyss of pining.

Jongup tries to leave before Junhong has time to self-combust. He only manages to get one foot out the door before the younger man crouches on the floor; muffled squeals seeping out between his fingers, while a horde of voices call out for Jongup to fix this mess.

He takes a deep breath, slowly turning to face the chaotic room where everyone’s scrambled over to Junhong. He can feel a headache, or perhaps an aneurysm, starting. Honestly, at this point Jongup might as well have a potential bleeding in his brain that he hasn’t caught onto yet.

He wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

Freaking drama queens.

***

“Wow, even when he’s not there hits the fan.” Himchan says, sounding mildly impressed.

“To be fair,” Jongup replies while fanning Junhong, who's still blushing, “Youngjae was the one who caused this.”

Himchan leans forwards, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh? That’s the first time I’ve heard you actually defend him.”

“Who?”

“Daehyun.”

“Sorry, never heard of him.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure he’s standing behind you.”

Jongup turns around, eyes darting back and forth for any potential escape routes. He doesn’t spot that familiar grin though, no, all he’s met with is a bewildered Yongguk.

Himchan’s laughter earns them harsh shushes from the other students in the library. Huffing, Jongup crosses his arms.

“Very mature,” he deadpans.

“What did you do this time?” Yongguk wonders, taking a seat next to Himchan.

“Just reminding Jongup of his dear friend Daehyun,” Himchan responds smugly.

Yongguk arches an eyebrow. “I didn’t know they were that close.”

“We’re not-”

“He was just defending him before you got here.”

“Really?” Despite the surprised tone, Yongguk doesn’t look all too convinced.

“I wasn’t-”

“Yup,” Himchan answers with a smile, the kind of smile that leaves no room for arguments.

Yongguk’s eyebrow stays arched, but he doesn’t ask any further questions. He knows that smile better than any of them, and has been on the receiving end for quite some time.

What Himchan wants, Himchan gets. 

Jongup knows it too, not as much as Yongguk but enough to give up trying to argue back. He makes a noncommittal sound, rubbing a hand over his face. He might as well be invisible whenever Daehyun comes up in their conversations, which seems to occur all the time, seeing as how no one is on his side.

Jongup really needs new friends.

He rests his cheek against the cool table surface, sighing. Yongguk pulls out one of many black notebooks Jongup’s come to associate with him ever since they first met. He flips open to an empty page, or as empty as a page belonging to Yongguk can be. There are scribbles amidst neat writing, lyrics hidden amongst history notes.

When they’d first become friends, Jongup used to wonder why Yongguk chose history over music, but not anymore. He remembers quite vividly the sad smile that Yongguk had worn before answering his brash question.

“If I can learn enough, then maybe, history won’t repeat itself.”

Needless to say, Jongup felt like an after that conversation. Not because of being so careless, but because he’d potentially hurt Yongguk of all people. Yongguk was, and still is, an overgrown, wiser Junhong at heart, as weird as that sounds.

Jongup tries not to imagine Yongguk’s face on Junhong’s body, shuddering at the thought. He has to stop relating the man’s face to everything and everyone.

“Junhongie,” Himchan speaks up. Jongup heaves a breath of relief, out of the limelight for once. “How are things going with Young-”

“Don’t,” Junhong interrupts, finger placed over Himchan’s mouth while he scans the library, “say his name, please?”

Himchan only flicks out his tongue in response, smirking at the loud yelp from Junhong as he retracts his finger. Jongup hides his face in his hands as another wave of shushes are sent their way, hoping that no one will recognize him and permanently ban him from the library.

He’s already prohibited from the rooftops, granted one shouldn’t be there in the first place but who knows when a potential zombie apocalypse will break out?

“Hyung,” Junhong pleads, wiping his finger against his pant leg.

“Isn’t the deadline for that literary analysis today?” Jongup interjects, voice muffled.

Himchan ignores him, but the kick delivered under the table tells him otherwise.

“Alright, I won’t,” Himchan says to Junhong, because even though he’s an , he’s not that much of an . “How are things going with he-who-must-not-be-named?”

Junhong rolls his eyes, lips pursed; even he’s capable of showing frustration once in a while, though Jongup chalks that up to Himchan’s bad influence.

“Nothing’s going on, okay…” He trails off; face instantly falling at the revelation.

So much for being frustrated, Jongup sighs, uncovering his face. He might as well step in before Himchan continues his so-called teasing (which Jongup, quite frankly, sees more as another form of torture). 

“They’re not even friends, so there’s nothing to ask about.”

Junhong’s face falls even further. How that’s possible, Jongup doesn’t know, and he doesn’t really care because he might’ve just singlehandedly caused Junhong to be, god forbid, sad.

Himchan shoots him a withering stare. Jongup lets him. For once, he actually deserves it.

“Wow,” he pats Junhong on the back, still maintaining eye contact with Jongup. “That was harsh, even for you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jongup protests.

Himchan raises a delicate eyebrow, clearly not convinced. Junhong doesn’t look at him, head ducked and hidden beneath his black cap. For someone whose height is basically their whole friend group stacked together, he looks like a dejected puppy, and Jongup feels like an .

No, scratch that, he feels like an hole.

Yongguk peers up from his notebook, eyebrows drawn in worry. It doesn’t take long for him to figure out what’s going on, he is Yongguk after all, and he cautiously Junhong on the back. He doesn’t throw a glare like Himchan’s, but rather looks at Jongup in a way that clearly translates to “son, what have you done now?”

The situation turns from kinda , to knee-deep . Jongup can handle Himchan being mad, heck, he can even handle Junhong being sad, but Yongguk, Bang secretly-everybody’s-adoptive-father Yongguk, being disappointed in him?

Jongup needs some serious damage control.

“You’re not friends,” he quickly begins, nearly wincing at the different expressions he’s met with, “but you can change that.”

He looks around the table, waiting for any objections, before continuing.

“Do you want Youngjae hyung’s number?”

Junhong’s head snaps up at such speed that both Himchan and Yongguk flinch back. His eyes are wide in disbelief, but Jongup can tell that there’s a small glimmer of hope in there.

“I’m not lying,” he unlocks his phone, sliding it towards the younger.

Himchan looks doubtful, eyeing the phone with suspicion. Jongup folds his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. In any normal case, he’d refrain from letting anyone near his phone like any other sane human being. But university has never been anything close to normal, and Jongup has realized over time that he’s had to sacrifice quite a lot of normalcy to adapt to this crazy environment.

Junhong, who seems to have, thankfully, forgotten Jongup’s earlier comment, appears hesitant in accepting the offer.

“You can try calling him if you want,” Jongup presses, feeling that itching in his fingers to get his phone back. 

The younger stares at him as if he just grew two heads and suggested asking Youngjae for a solo performance.

”How, do you have Youngjae’s number?” Himchan inquires, resting his chin atop his hands.

Jongup shrugs. ”I helped him find some dancers for last year’s fall musical.”

He’d remembered the chaos that had ensued at the announcement, and the multiple headaches he’d suffered during the inevitable audition. Thinking back on it, part of him wishes that he hadn’t passed Junhong (if he had had a minor crush before, it’d blown out of proportions after working first hand with Youngjae), but another part of him, a much, much larger one, wishes he’d never signed up in the first place. 

If he’d had known that Youngjae wouldn’t be able to join him during the audition part, and that he’d instead have the brilliant idea of sending Jung Daehyun to assist him, Jongup would’ve let Hoseok help out with the musical.

But he hadn’t.

Which is why, he’s in this current mess, why he’s stuck in it with no means of escape.

University sure is lovely, Jongup thinks begrudgingly while he watches Junhong copy the number in lightning speed. He hesitates at the final digits though, fingers stopping midair.

”Isn’t this a breach of privacy?” He wonders out loud, receiving almost immediate fatherly-motherly smiles from Yongguk and Himchan. Jongup feels like gagging at the genuine worry in Junhong’s tone, as if what he’s doing is really that bad. 

”Do you want to be friends with him or not?” He deadpans, not even bothering to hide how impatient he feels.

For extra emphasize, he reaches across the table for his phone, eyebrows raised at Junhong. The younger hurriedly types down the number before all but tossing the device at his face. Jongup silently thanks all those years spent dancing as he catches it with ease, at least he’s earned something from this major.

The atmosphere returns to normal, Yongguk retreating back to his notebooks, Himchan ignoring his literary analysis in favor of trying, and failing, to tease Junhong who’s too busy smiling at his phone, and Jongup wondering why he’s even here.

”Alright kids,” Himchan sighs, standing from his chair after yet another failed attempt. ”We’re off to class, don’t miss us too much.”

”Finally,” Jongup whispers, ignoring the punch Himchan sends against his arm in response.

”See you guys later,” Yongguk says, holding his notebook to his chest while grabbing his backpack. ”Try not to bother anyone else in here.”

Jongup waves his hand at them, feeling more like he’s at home with his family than in a university library. The two leave the table, and Jongup relishes in the peace and quiet that comes with their departure. He’s got about an hour of free time before practice starts, which thankfully is at the same time as Yongguk and Himchan’s creative writing ends.

Junhong’s still gushing over his own phone. Jongup leaves him to that though, not bothering to inquire further or make a comment. Despite the drama bug Daehyun’s somehow managed to infest him with, Jongup is far from being anywhere close to Himchan in terms of poking and prodding.

”Do you…” Jongup turns his head towards Junhong, catching his sudden nervousness. Junhong trails off, gesturing for Jongup to come closer.

He leans over the table, eyebrows raised.

”Do you think I should call him?”

Junhong’s excitement has died down, fingers tapping against his phone screen. Jongup tries not to roll his eyes, putting on his most serious face instead, which isn’t that difficult seeing as that’s his resting face, because even though this doesn’t mean a lot to him, it means a lot to Junhong.

”I think you should wait,” he says after some deliberation. ”Maybe try somewhere more private instead of-”

He gestures with his hand at their surroundings. ”Here.”

Junhong nods, as if Jongup’s bestowed him wisdom beyond his years that he should treasure very much. At that, Jongup rolls his eyes. The younger doesn’t notice though, standing up from his seat with his phone clutched tightly.

”I think,” he pauses. ”I think I’m gonna head back to the dorm.”

Jongup actually smiles at that, which Junhong returns with a similar one. He steps away from the table, feet padding against the soft carpet while Jongup bids his retreating back a quiet goodbye. Though as he’s about to pass a bookshelf, he looks over his shoulder.

”Have fun with Daehyun, hyung,” he calls out, low enough that no student shushes him but loud enough for Jongup to hear him.

”Oh ha ha,” Jongup mutters, turning around in his seat. ”Not you too-”

”Jonguppie!”

Jongup doesn’t have time to react before he’s tackled to the floor, Daehyun on top of him. He huffs, Daehyun too busy turning him into a body pillow rather than noticing the clear shade of purple that his face is turning.

“Tell me more, tell me more,” Daehyun croons, hugging Jongup tighter, “was it love at first sight?”

“No,” Jongup coughs, struggling under his grip and seriously, for someone who spends their time singing show tunes Daehyun is surprisingly strong.

He wonders for a brief moment if this is how he’s going to die (Himchan will no doubt laugh his off at the funeral), before he spots the librarian stomping over, a couple of angry students following in tow.

Daehyun doesn’t even have a chance of spouting any melodramatic lines, grabbed by the collar by one of the students who Jongup vaguely recalls as Wonsik from Yongguk’s music hangouts.

“Get. Out.” He punctuates, frowning at them.

A small crowd has formed around them, all eyes on the librarian who’s in the middle of a heated discussion with Daehyun about respect and silence and whatnot. Jongup hauls himself off of the floor, catching his breath as he gets to his feet. Shaking his head, he takes hold of Daehyun’s arm, dragging him away while he continues shouting.

“It’s a free country, you oppressive witch!”

There’s a collective gasp coming from the crowd, and Jongup can see the permanent ban report mocking him before his eyes. He clamps his free hand over Daehyun’s mouth, because even though he’ll most definitely be banned, that doesn’t mean he’d like to have an all-out war against the librarian.

He inwardly shudders, feeling Daehyun’s tongue on his skin. But if the man thinks that that’ll deter him, he’s sorely mistaken. Jongup’s had to deal with worse, in the form of Kim Himchan’s company.

Sighing, he leaves the library amidst whispers and glares. He doesn’t know what bothers him more, that, or the fact that Daehyun’s trying to bite at his skin.

So much for that peace and quiet.

***

It’s true that Jongup finds Daehyun to be insufferable, bothersome, attention seeking, loud mouthed, the spawn of Satan, and just annoying in general. But, truth be told, and as shocking as it sounds, there had been a time where Jongup actually enjoyed the other’s company. 

The first time they met, to be more precise.

cant help with the audition… sorry!! ㅠㅠ

Jongup had spared one glance at the text before sending a quick 'its ok’ back. He’d figured Youngjae wouldn’t be able to come; the guy was practically swamped with musical duties.

sending a friend tho!!

He arched an eyebrow, replying with a short 'who’. Youngjae’s friend group ranged from the musical department to the entire university, and Jongup would appreciate it if he wasn’t paired up with any, he shuddered, theater majors.

He’d helped out once in the yearly university play, which had been quite the wild ride of more than a few mental breakdowns, buckets upon buckets of tears, and someone shrieking at him that musical theater and theater were two separate worlds that should never intertwine with one another.

Never again, Jongup had vowed. At least musical theatre people seemed more rational (though he’d never mentioned that in fear of his own life), focusing on singing rather than… Dramatic acts.

don’t think you know him

its jung daehyun he’s pretty reliable so you’ll be fine ^^

Jung Daehyun, the name didn’t register. But then again, Jongup had quite a limited network, ranging from Kim Himchan, Bang Yongguk, and Choi Junhong to Yoo Youngjae, essentially his one and only friend group too.

Himchan often fussed about his lack of friends, trying to include him in his vast web of contacts. He quickly realized though that Jongup had the social skills of a rock, and decided to temporarily halt the friend-making, because Kim Himchan never gave up, he simply took indefinite breaks.

(Jongup always relates that aspect of his friend to the infamous history teacher, Yang Hyun Suk, who almost never corrects any assignments and who the faculty nearly considered replacing with Yongguk himself, not that he’d ever tell Himchan that)

He replied with a thumbs-up while adjusting his position in the red plush chair. The auditorium was empty so far, the dancers waiting backstage for their personal cue to head up onto the scene. He checked the time, ten to eight, before locking his phone; this Daehyun would have to make it in ten minutes.

Jongup was a bit unsure about the man. He wasn’t too keen on new people, or people in general, but that was another case, and as much as he trusted Youngjae the man did have a knack for believing too much in others.

There was about five minutes left on the clock when the doors burst open.

Jongup stood up, spotting tufts of dark brown hair belonging to a rosy-cheeked young man. He was panting, hands resting on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“Jung Daehyun?” Jongup called out hesitantly.

In a normal situation, Jongup initiating a conversation would be a miracle. Yet this was different, with only a few minutes to spare on the clock he couldn’t waste a second. 

The brown haired man looked up, nodding in response. He was still heaving, but his breaths were a lot steadier than before. Jongup glanced at the large clock hanging on the upper section; they had about three minutes left before the first dancer arrived.

“Sorry for being late,” Daehyun wheezed, staggering over to him. “Practice went overtime and then some people wanted help with their vocals and all of a sudden Youngjae asked me to come here because-”

“It’s,” Jongup interrupted, “it’s okay. You’re here, that’s all that matters.”

He sat down in his seat again, not waiting for a reply. He swallowed the urge to sigh. Speaking wasn’t his forte, or socializing for that matter, basically any form of social contact if he were to be honest. When Jongup spoke, he did it in syllables, not sentences.

He was a dancer for crying out loud, this wasn’t what he’d signed up for.

“Thanks,” Daehyun whispered as the clock struck eight.

Jongup only shrugged in response, concentrating on the stage. The first dancer came up, bowing to them before taking their stance.

As the night went on with more dancers entering and leaving, Jongup noticed a few things about Daehyun.

First of all, he was probably the most easily impressed person he’d ever encountered (he went as far as apologizing to the first couple dancers because Jongup wouldn’t let him applaud).

Second of all, despite being the most easily impressed guy to likely ever exist, Daehyun was quite observant in noticing errors, small or large, from some of the dancers.

And third of all, Jongup hadn’t imagined that he’d have this much fun with him.

But lo and behold, he did.

At some points throughout the audition, he’d caught himself smiling a bit too much for someone who was supposedly devoid and incapable of human emotions (Himchan’s words, not his own). But how was he not supposed to when Daehyun would make the strangest comments at the worst times?

“Is she trying to have with the floor? Because I can tell you, been there, done that, not recommended.”

“Why is he crying? This is Justin Bieber there’s nothing- oh wait, that’s probably why.”

“I know this is supposed to be dramatic, but, it’s really difficult to sympathize with someone in a leotard.”

Yet despite Daehyun’s incessant commentary, none of the dancers heard. No one, with the certain exception of Jongup. He’d been close to letting a laugh slip through (leotards, seriously?) but managed to control himself at the last second. Daehyun had looked proud though, wearing a grin that Jongup had gotten more and more acquainted with during the audition.

Once the last dancer, who of course had to be Junhong, left the stage, Jongup all but sank into his plush chair. Daehyun was leafing through the notes they’d made on each dancer, the sound of the papers almost lulling him to sleep. He stifled a yawn though, craning his neck to check the time.

The audition had been going on for far too long, Jongup could feel all the spent hours beginning to push down on his eyelids.

“What do you think?” He mumbled towards Daehyun, rubbing at his eyes.

Daehyun hummed, carefully considering the notes in his hands. “I don’t know… Kim Hyuna, Jeon Jeongguk, Kang Seulgi and Choi Junhong seem pretty capable?”

“I’d remove Kim Hyuna. She’s more experienced in powerful styles like street dance; I don’t think she’d be a great fit for the musical genre.”

“But isn’t that the same with Jeon Jungkook?”

Jongup sat up straighter in his chair, facing Daehyun with a frown. “There’s a difference between having a preference and being too deep rooted in one style. Jeon Jungkook can adapt, he’s flexible. I’m not as confident in Kim Hyuna.”

“I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit,” Daehyun argued, pulling out her profile, “sure, the song choice might not have been the best and she wasn’t as smooth in her execution like Jeon Jungkook, but the emotions were there.”

Jongup arched an eyebrow. “Emotions aren’t everything in dance; you also need a proper grasp on different styles.”

“Yes, but if you don’t have any emotions you won’t be able to connect with the audience.” Daehyun held up his hands at the look Jongup shot him. “Look, you obviously know much more about dance than I do, but trust me, when it comes to the right people for the right musicals, I know what I’m talking about.”

He met his eye, unwavering. Jongup maintained contact for a short moment before sighing, sinking back in his seat.

“It’s your musical.” He muttered, closing his eyes.

He could almost notice the smile on Daehyun’s lips as the man thanked him.

Jongup didn’t want to admit it himself though, and he probably never would, but part of him was smiling too. But what he could admit was that musical majors were far better than theater ones.

***

“I swear,” Daehyun pouts, arms crossed, “justice will be served to those who abuse their authority.”

Oh, how wrong he had been. Musical theater majors, theater majors, they’re all pretty much the same when it comes to drama.

“Excuse me? Jonguppie, you’re lucky you’re too cute or you’d be in some deep trouble.”

Jongup blinks, not realizing he’d said his thoughts out loud. Not that he’d been wrong though, but he’s too tired to argue with Daehyun of all people so he simply shrugs.

The action, along with rolling one’s eyes, he notices, has become something of a fixed setting in his body (which really doesn’t help the whole "I promise I’m not a robot Himchan” argument).

“Anyways,” Daehyun continues as they step out of the main entrance. “I can’t believe that they gave a one month ban for something that small, it wasn’t even- Oh crap.”

He stops in his tracks, Jongup almost bumping into his back. There’s a slight frown present on his face as he stares at the sight in front of them. The expression looks out of place on someone like Daehyun’s face.

“What?” Jongup asks, having to stand a bit on his toes to see over Daehyun’s shoulder. “Oh, come on.”

A downpour greets them in the campus; Jongup can barely make out the shapes of the benches and building in the thick of the rain. The drops pitter-patter against the cobblestone ground, making the campus full of sound despite the emptiness.

The scene is strangely calming. Jongup would most likely appreciate it on a day where he hasn’t forgotten an umbrella, but today isn’t one of those days and thus, he can’t.

“,” he mutters, already pulling his jacket tighter against himself.

Daehyun hasn’t said anything, which is about as worrying as the rain. The frown is gone though, replaced by a thoughtful look, and that in itself is already sending warning signs.

“How about singing in the rain?” He winks at Jongup, as casual as one can be in a downpour.

Jongup only has time to roll his eyes before Daehyun all but walks into the rain. He gapes at him, almost reaching out to pull him back until Daehyun opens his mouth and starts singing.

It’s not the first time Jongup’s heard him sing, everyone close to the musical department has fallen victim to Daehyun belting out show tunes or whatever hit pop song.

But it is the first time he’s heard him sing with so much ease, so much carefreeness. There are no restraints, no dramatic flair; there’s only Daehyun and his voice.

Jongup feels like he’s intruding on something special.

Daehyun suddenly stops singing, turning around to face Jongup with a look of pure content on his face.

“Are you gonna stand there all day or what?”

Jongup blinks, once, twice, at the sight of him. He’s completely drenched, dark brown hair plastered to his face, nearly covering his eyes. Yet he’s still wearing that grin, that all too familiar one that Jongup thought he’d grown to see as annoying.

Daehyun jumps onto a nearby bench, balancing on the wet surface. Jongup watches him from the cover of the main entrance, hesitating in joining him or not. The logical thing to do would be to wait inside until the rain subdues or halts. Walking outside in this weather would probably guarantee a trip straight to the nurse’s office, and as much as Jongup is confident in his immune system, he’s in charge of too many things to afford to be sick.

Daehyun suddenly falters, and all logical thinking goes out the window.

Jongup rushes towards him, maneuvering the slippery cobblestone (thank god for dancer’s feet), and manages to grab onto Daehyun’s arm, steadying him.

The rain is pouring, soaking him to the bones, and all Daehyun does is laugh. He laughs, bright and brilliant, and Jongup feels his chest constrict.

“Thanks Jongup,” Daehyun whispers, beaming at him.

No nicknames, no melodrama, there’s only Daehyun and his voice.

“Um,” he shoots him a confused but amused look, gesturing at his arm that’s still being held onto.

Jongup hurriedly retracts his hand as if he’s been burned. “Oh, uh, sorry…”

He stares at the ground, trying to occupy his thoughts by counting the cobblestones (that are definitely way more interesting than Jung freaking Daehyun). He can feel the other’s gaze on him, burning his skin as he forces himself not to look up.

“Let’s go.” Daehyun murmurs, jumping down from the bench.

He walks in front of him, Jongup scrambling to catch up. A small smile awaits him as he joins Daehyun’s side, and despite the rain, despite his wet clothes clinging to his skin, there’s warmth flowing through his veins.

What, the hell, is happening?

***

“You’re in love,” Himchan says in a disgustingly sweet tone.

Jongup wants to protest, but if spending hundreds of hours on watching anime has taught him one thing, it’s that that will only make him look like a tsundere.

He is not a tsundere, just as much as he's not in love with Jung Daehyun.

“Congratulations,” Yongguk cheers, looking up from his book (that, unsurprisingly, is a history themed one, who would’ve guessed?) to give a thumbs-up.

Jongup doesn’t know what came over him to come to Himchan and Yongguk’s dorm for advice. But then again, he also doesn’t know what came over him during that rainy day.

He blames it on his lack of social life and that he might have, must have, a fever.

“In your dreams,” he retorts, throwing a pillow at Himchan.

He dodges it with ease, the pillow colliding with Yongguk, much to Jongup’s chagrin, who splutters in surprise.

“You know you’re in love,” Himchan muses, “when you can’t fall asleep, because reality is finally better than your dreams.“

"That doesn’t even make sense,” Jongup snorts, rolling over on the bed, back facing the two older men. “I sleep just fine.”

“You’re missing the point.” Judging by his tone, Jongup’s fairly sure Himchan’s rolling his eyes. “And besides, I know you. There’s no way you can sleep well after something like that happened.”

Jongup ignores him. He’s right, but he doesn’t have to know that, and Jongup doesn’t have to tell him that he knows that.

“Oh, very mature Moon Jongup.”

Jongup really needs to stop spending time with Himchan. He likes to be alone with his own thoughts, in his own head, thank you very much.

Though it’s not as if Daehyun’s the sole reason he’s been kept awake the past couple days (he’s not even one of the main reasons, just a tiny, minuscule part of a much bigger picture), Jongup’s mind has been preoccupied with the spring performance. The majority of his final grade rests not only on how well he leads the class, but also on how well the whole performance looks in the end.

Jongup isn’t insecure in his own abilities, nor is he doubtful of the other dancers, but that doesn’t stop the nervousness prickling at his skin.

Needless to say, he really does not need an extra, nonstop singing, talking, and prancing radio on his already overflowing plate.

“Have you talked to him ever since?” Yongguk speaks up; deep voice a welcoming contrast to Himchan’s shrill one.

He tries to refrain from rolling over and facing the two of them, but if there’s one thing he’s learnt in university that doesn’t involve finding escape routes for possible ambushes, it’s that Yongguk has a way of making people follow his lead without really meaning to.

With the exception of Himchan, because Himchan doesn’t follow anyone, and he certainly means everything behind his actions.

“No,” Jongup mutters, concentrating on the history book in Yongguk’s hands instead of his face, “it’s not like there’s anything to talk about, anyway.“

He, fortunately, hasn’t run into Daehyun ever since that rainy day, which has mostly been due to his busy schedule and taking advantage of Junhong’s unreasonable height.

"Bull,” Himchan cuts in, but Yongguk sends him a reprimanding stare, because he’s Yongguk, which is why he’s the only one capable of doing so without losing a limb.

“It sounds to me,” he begins, eyes still on Himchan, “that you have a lot to talk about in terms of your own feelings and Dae-”

“Can,” Jongup interjects, “can we not talk about this, at all, please?”

The thought of having to discuss feelings with Yongguk of all people is not on his top ten to-do list (neither is feeling anything other than annoyance for Daehyun’s existence but when has anything ever gone in his favor?).

Sure, part of Yongguk’s DNA has programmed him to act like a father figure at any distressing time, which is all the time at university, but there’s a place and time for that.

This, this is not one of those places or times.

Yongguk sighs. Thankfully, he doesn’t push the subject, going back to his book instead. Himchan on the other hand throws a quick glance at Yongguk before opening his mouth, Jongup bracing himself for the verbal onslaught.

He’s interrupted though by Junhong’s sudden entrance, and Jongup nearly hugs the taller man (if not for the fact that he doesn’t do hugs, or physical contact, in general).

“Am I late?” He asks, taking a seat next to Jongup on the bed.

“Barely,” Himchan replies, despite being cut off he can’t be mad at Junhong. “He hasn’t said anything about Dae-”

Jongup coughs, glaring pointedly at Himchan who rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, let me rephrase that. He hasn’t said anything about he-who-must-not-be-named two point zero.”

Junhong gives him a sullen look, but much to Himchan’s disappointment he doesn’t join in on the teasing. They all know why though, if anyone can relate to Jongup’s current situation it’s Junhong.

“Where were you?” Yongguk wonders, briefly leaving his book to eye Junhong. 

“Oh, I was just hanging out with Youngjae hyung.”

The name has Jongup raising his eyebrows as he jerks his head towards him, while Himchan leaps over to their bed, all but pouncing on Junhong.

“Since when did you drop formalities with him?” He questions, jabbing a finger in his chest for further emphasize.

Despite trying to act indifferent, Jongup notices the clear shade of red blooming across Junhong’s cheeks. The younger clears his throat while doing his best to distance himself from Himchan.

“Since we started hanging out,” he mutters, attempting to sound as though that’s the most obvious thing ever.

“Congratulations,” Yongguk murmurs halfheartedly from the opposite bed, already having returned to his reading.

An all too familiar grin covers Himchan’s lips, filled with equal parts smug and equal parts . “So, I take it you two have gotten very familiar with each other?”

He inches closer, backing Junhong against the headrest. The scene reminds Jongup of a predator cornering its prey. He feels a bit bad for Junhong, just a bit though, since the younger one’s discomfort effectively keeps him out of the limelight.

“Maybe…” Junhong trails off, looking anywhere but at Himchan.

Himchan’s eyes widen, a choked noise escaping him as he points at Junhong who jumps.

“Choi Junhong!” He shrieks, finger trembling. “Are my eyes deceiving me or is that a hickey?”

“I don’t know. You’re getting kinda old, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen things wrong.” Jongup chimes in; narrowly dodging the punch Himchan throws his way.

“N-No, or, u-um, maybe?” Junhong stutters, failing to sound confident.

Jongup wonders how someone like Junhong is capable of surviving university, much less Himchan’s friendship. He’s partially at fault for the latter, since he’d been the one to introduce the two to each other. But, seeing as Himchan has a network spawning the entire campus all the way to that rundown, suspicious looking pub at the edge of the city, it was only a matter of time till he’d befriended Junhong.

If university has taught Jongup anything socially, it’s that empathy leads you nowhere.

No empathy means a calmer life, which is why he switches beds to sit next to Yongguk while Himchan hounds Junhong for details, details and even more details.

“What are you reading?” He asks, leaning against the wall.

“The anthologies of musicians throughout the ages and the harsh environments they were forced to live in,” Yongguk replies while turning a page, deep voice soothing amongst the screaming.

Basically history, but music-centric, Jongup should be surprised at how a little he isn’t surprised, but he chooses to feign interest by making an awed sound. Not that Yongguk isn’t interesting, more that despite Jongup having dance as his major, he might as well be majoring in history in the company of the older man. Jongup would be lying if he didn’t say that he’s had enough information crammed into his head to rival that of the National History channel.

“It’s quite the insightful read,” Yongguk continues over the noise that is Himchan. “You’d think the conditions they grew up and lived in were what influenced their music, but it was more about the relationships they built that made their music into what it is today.”

Jongup tilts his head to the side to get a better view of the contents. “That’s, cool, I guess?”

Yongguk smiles (not a mocking one that’s more Himchan’s forte but a typical “kids-these-days” one), flipping to the next page.

“It’s very cool,” there’s something unnerving about Yongguk using modern day language, “especially since their music could’ve turned out completely different, and not quite as impactful, had they not met these specific people.”

Jongup bites back the urge to roll his eyes. Yongguk may have a point, but in his own case he can’t seem to understand how the people he’s met has had any long lasting effects on his life. Most of his friends pre-university have lost contact with him; he doesn’t keep up with social media all that much and he’s not the social butterfly or party animal the likes of Youngjae and Himchan.

Apart from his small group of friends (sans Himchan, the line between best friend and tormenter is becoming more and more indistinct), Jongup can’t come up with anyone who’s had any noticeable impact on his life.

His mind drifts over to Daehyun, remembering the smile, the voice, the warmth despite that rainy day, but as soon as the thought appears he shakes it away.

Jongup frowns, really now, Daehyun of all people? He tries to think of any positive impact that the man’s had on his life that didn’t include evolving a seventh sense.

Yongguk’s deep voice drags him out of his musing. “Human relationships are quite complicated though. Even if some of these musicians didn’t have the greatest first impressions of their peers, they still remained close friends in the end, and vice versa.”

Jongup nods, part of him listening, part of him still thinking about Daehyun. His encounter with Daehyun was quite the opposite. Jongup did have a good, maybe even great, first impression of him throughout that auditioning process. That was then, yet now Jongup’s found himself dodging the man more than trying to spend time with him.

“One of my favorite quotes comes from this book,” Yongguk returns a few pages back, a content smile on his lips. “I do not regret ever meeting you, but I do regret never staying with you.”

Jongup bites his lower lip, frowning. He doesn’t like where this is going, not at all.

He doesn’t like the thought, the idea, of liking Daehyun. He’s got too much to think about than that one-man Broadway show. Yet he can’t seem to stop his mind from drifting towards him, and Jongup wonders how long Daehyun’s stayed with him ever since that audition.

“I need to work on the spring performance,” he hears himself say, not even meeting Yongguk’s eye as he feels his body stand up from the bed.

He leaves before Himchan notices, still too busy tormenting Junhong until the younger’s gone through all shades of red. But as the door closes, Himchan turns to Yongguk with an amused expression.

“You made that up, didn’t you?”

Yongguk glances at him, feigning surprise. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just reading my book.”

“Bang Yongguk,” Himchan smirks, leaving Junhong for a moment, “aren’t you a sly bastard?”

“Yet you still love me.”

“Sadly, I do.”

“Gross,” Junhong mutters, voice muffled by the pillow covering his face.

Himchan drags the fluffy object away, much to Junhong’s dismay.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Junhongie.” He says with that no-room-for-arguments smile. “Now, once more, all the details please.”

***

The doors to the auditorium have never felt as heavy as when Jongup pries them open.

He takes a second to look around, at the empty chairs and empty scene, and feels some of the tension in his shoulders dissipating.

Jongup isn’t much of a nostalgia freak, leaving that terrain for Himchan, but part of him had hoped to see Daehyun in this spot.

“Idiot,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

The preparations for the spring performance must’ve made him go crazy, or perhaps replaced him with an alien, because this is not how Jongup is.

Love makes you do crazy things.

That's it he’s never going to hang out with Himchan ever again.

Or Daehyun, for that matter, he’s made up his mind, he doesn’t need any more trouble on his already overflowing plate of life.

“It’s not like I’ll lose much either way,” he huffs, walking down the aisle.

“Lose what?”

Jongup doesn’t shriek. He just, jumps a little, and, emits a little noise, but he definitely doesn’t shriek, even if Daehyun looks extremely amused.

“Lose what?” He repeats, seemingly torn between standing up from his seat and helping Jongup breathe properly, or laugh.

He laughs.

“I-It’s nothing,” Jongup heaves, crossing his arms while looking in the other direction and, oh god, he is a tsundere.

He doesn’t know what’s worse, coming to terms with that, or the fact that Daehyun’s sitting in the exact same seat Jongup had sat in during the auditioning. Faith has a cruel sense of humor, and Jongup’s sick of being stuck in this “woe-is-me” dilemma.

Dragging a hand across his hair, he frowns, for how long has Daehyun been able to spread his drama bugs on him? The answer is, for far too long.

“No but, seriously, Jonguppie,” Daehyun starts, rising from his seat, “why are you here? Don’t you have the spring performance to take care of?

"I could ask you the same thing,” he fires back, arms still crossed defensively.

Daehyun doesn’t seem deterred by that, but then again, nothing really deters him (besides Youngjae).

“I just wanted to take a break before my next lesson.”

He shrugs after finishing, as if it’s the most logical thing to do. Which, it is, Jongup just doesn’t feel very logical at the moment.

Jongup doesn’t know how much longer he can handle Daehyun right now without having had enough time to think for himself. After Yongguk’s semi-lecture, Himchan’s teasing (yet confident) statements and even Junhong’s curiosity, this current situation is too direct for him.

Daehyun’s simply too mellow, almost but not quite similar to that day in the rain. He hadn’t even screamed in excitement at the sight of him, and Jongup wonders if that incident had some influence on Daehyun too.

“Yeah, well,” Jongup mutters, “why did it have to be here?”

“I don’t know,” he says, shrugging once more. “It’s empty, quiet too, and it’s got this nice nostalgic feel to it.”

He smiles at him. Jongup can’t stand it.

“Well, the feeling’s not mutual,” he bites out.

Jongup can be an , but he can’t for the life of him understand his own emotions (god, Himchan’s right, he is a robot).

Daehyun doesn’t seem fazed, he never seems to be, hands in his pockets as he makes his way towards Jongup. A part of Jongup yells at him to leave, to run far away, but another part of him tells him to stand his ground.

Jongup’s never been much of a vocal person, which is why he finds himself face to face with Daehyun.

“Doesn’t change the fact I,” Daehyun gestures at himself, “had a splendid time during that eventful afternoon.”

There it is, the Daehyun he’s always been bothered by, yet he can’t even feel the slightest bit of annoyance, and that annoys him even more.

Jongup can’t believe he actually likes him.

“What?”

Daehyun’s staring at him, wide-eyed. Jongup stares back, not quite processing what’s going on until there’s the distinct sound of something kicking into gear, as though his brain has finally started working and .

Did he say that out loud?

Somewhere out there, he’s sure Himchan’s cackling.

Silence falls over them. He can feel his mind going into overdrive, scrambling to come up with something, anything to make this situation less bad than it already is. He knows though, that even a miracle (is Youngjae free at this hour?) can’t fix this slip up.

“Um,” is all he manages to get out (which, honestly, isn’t the dumbest thing he’s said considering the life he’s lead).

Daehyun’s still staring, mouth slightly agape, and Jongup wishes the floor would open up beneath him. At least now Daehyun won’t bother him anymore, he tries to reassure himself, yet the thought only seems to make him want to sink deeper.

From an outsider’s perspective, Jongup’s pretty sure he’s mentally halfway through the floor when Daehyun makes a noise.

“You,” he starts, taking a second to point between them, “like me?”

“Like who?” That’s, probably one of the dumbest things Jongup’s said, at least top five.

“You like me,” Daehyun repeats with more conviction, a goofy grin on his lips.

There are a hundred excuses and scenarios running through Jongup’s mind, ranging from hurling himself off the rooftop (ban be damned) or telling Daehyun he’s mistaken him from his evil twin brother, Sun Jongdown. He settles on shrugging, because as far as he’s found out, talking has done him little help.

Besides, it’s not as though Daehyun’s wrong, much to Jongup’s chagrin. Because for the first time since his birth, most likely, Daehyun’s not wrong about something, and Jongup would be more annoyed with that if not for the fact that he likes this insufferable, bothersome, attention seeking, loud mouthed, spawn of Satan, and just annoying-

He doesn’t manage to finish that thought. Daehyun kisses him.

He kisses him, lips warm and soft against his own, and Jongup thinks the buzz in his ears is probably his brain short circuiting.

He doesn’t care.

All he cares is how nice, how right this feels.

But as soon as it happens, it’s gone. Daehyun leans back, a cheeky grin on those plump lips that Jongup wants to remove, preferably with his own mouth.

“Good luck practicing,” he whispers, already turning on his heel. “Don’t let me bother you too much.”

He stops by the door, glancing over his shoulder and (Jongup can’t believe the audacity) winks at him, before leaving.

Jongup isn’t sure if the pounding in his head is from a potential headache or something else. He doesn’t complain though. Maybe, just maybe, he’s being a bit dramatic for once.