It's cold out, but that's not always a deterrent as far as Zhou Mi goes. Shopping is shopping, and besides, are they really going to have the time to do this in any other country?

At least, that's what Mi argues, long legs striding across the hallways of the upper hotel they're all stationed at for the day. No exciting adventures planned, a delayed flight, and minimal manager supervision all lead to boredom, and Henry figured it was probably the best plan they’re going to make that night. That, and there are an inordinate amount of birthdays piled on to the week before that were sure as hell not celebrated properly. Can’t forget that little inconvenient fact.

But still - it’s really not that late, but they’re blessed with time all their own. Henry might argue that they might want to sleep, ‘cause who would pass up on a night full of rest?

“Are you sure? There’s a bed in literally each and every one of our rooms, you know,” Kyuhyun brought up.

“Yeah,” Henry readily agreed.

As soon as he sees Mi raise his eyebrows, though, it’s not really up for debate.

"I swear, we will hate it if we stay in and don’t even look at a wallet or belt or... something! At least, I will," he adds, laugh overflowing in an overzealous smile.

"I don't know, it's been a long day..." Kyuhyun whines, protesting with the slump of his shoulders. Everyone knows, though, that it wasn't out of being tired that he wants to stay in as much as it’s that he has been frothing to play the ‘big patch that just got released that’s putting in so many awesome features!’ from his latest video game obsession. (The details are when he gets tuned out. A one-track mind, that man.)

"Nothing shoes can't fix," is Mi's argument, which somehow finalizes the fact that everyone was going out. “Plus, Min-hyung didn’t get a real birthday... Can you really call plane and a cupcake a celebration?”

At this, they all agree, soft hmms and yeahs making their rounds through the tired but wired group, no matter their personal complaint.

Henry looks around them now, hands in pockets, faces tucked behind the warmth of a scarf and face mask, and takes stock of the crowd that agreed to go on this little makeshift adventure into the fashionable unknown. He doesn’t remember Donghae even agreeing to this, and yet, there he is - sunglasses and cap on, coolly looking from storefront to vendor and quietly pointing things out to Kyuhyun.

"See, isn’t this better?" Mi adds, his hand finding its way to the warmly-clad shoulder of Sungmin who was walking less than a foot ahead of him. They thread their way through the tourist-overrun streets of the fashion district. “I swear, we live our lives in hotels,” Mi laments.

Henry smiles. “Yeah, actually! You’re right.”

-

He has to admit, this is nice. They’re out and about and no one recognized them, the weather was chilled, and for once this trip, everyone - everyone - seems to be enjoying themselves.

On the surface, it looks like Mi is being his normal, albeit overly fashion-concerned self, but from the look in Sungmin’s eyes, Henry knows it’s about more than just ties and pomade and birthday cake.

“It has been getting a bit stuffy inside lately,” Ryeowook chimes in. His voice, a quiet note amongst the street chatter and merchant booths of Beijing, cut straight through Henry’s mind. It was almost a shock, as it registered far closer to his ear than he remembered Ryeowook being.

Almost. His breath still catches, though, excess energy building in his lungs that he lets out in the nearly-unnoticeable fiddling of his fingers inside his pockets.

Sungmin nods in agreement, eyes all around and unfocused and focused all at once - the sight of a kid in a candy store for the first time as he realizes all the possibilities that are his for the taking in this suddenly big sweet, sweet world.

Henry wants to give Mi a pat on the back, say good call. Planes, Min and Hyukjae have made an atmosphere that could fog a mirror in an instant, one that often leads to stalemates of conversation and ear phones too aggressively shoved into ears for makeshift naps. But out here? That fog has dissipated, replaced by the almost-rain clouds that sat still in the sky, picture perfect. Henry looks for signs of that emotional fog, the less than kind atmosphere that’s been following Min around.

It’s nowhere to be seen, only the occasional puff of steam from a street food vendor.

“So, Mi, what are we out here for? Where we going?” Henry asks, glancing around. There’s neon in his peripheral vision, but, by and large, he sees name brand stores that he only ever recognized from the labels that their stylists would fit for them. “I know I don’t have anything specific on my mind-”

Mi stops them, causing Ryeowook to take an abrupt stop via Henry. Sungmin turns around, suddenly a few feet away from them. “Do you really plan everything?”

Henry furrows his brow. It was the only expression that did his feelings justice behind a mask. “No? Yes? I really don’t know what you want me to say.”

Mi sharpens a grimace, huffing out a breath. “My sweet, sweet naive Henry. Live a little.”

Henry huffs. “You live a little.”

Maybe Henry’s Chinese is a little rusty, cause the look Mi gave him could have soured milk in seconds. “I’m sorry, I can’t understand you over your accent, or the pitch your voice makes with that stick up your .”

Sungmin’s laughing, and so is Ryeowook, and Kyuhyun’s giggling into Donghae’s space, hands curled up together against his chest.

Henry starts to laugh, too.

Maybe this is what this night is supposed to be about - after all, if it brings some light to Sungmin’s expression, some smiles back to his beautiful face, then it couldn’t be a wasted night, could it?

“Well, at least you can laugh at yourself,” Kyuhyun says, giggling a bit. “I mean, with Chinese that bad, really, who couldn’t laugh at it?”

“Hey!”

“Go easy on him,” Ryeowook admonishes, hands coming up, a smile in his voice as he plays the mediator. “It’s hard being American,” he says, accompanying a teasing pat to Henry’s chest, all in jest.

“Canadian,” Henry corrects, yet no one seems to care. “Come on, I know you know that!” He lightly shoves Ryeowook in retaliation, not hard enough to actually move him.

“It’s a hard language!” Sungmin sides with him, laughing freely.

Henry smiles, a flash of tenderness before he takes a step to hold Sungmin in a shoulder hug of solidarity. “See, he understands.”

“Yeah, he would. He still needs cue cards!” Donghae adds; Kyuhyun elbows him in the ribs, giving him a sharpened Why the would you say that? look.

“You can’t even speak in your native language!” Ryeowook jabs back, still too close to Henry somehow.

Henry feels it, though, despite how confliction stirred in his stomach with the unmistakable spicy-musky-earthy scent of Ryeowook in his space. How everything is better. How a week ago no one sounded so light, how a week ago, even, was almost a lifetime ago with bridges in shambles, the same ones that were now being rebuilt.

“Come on,” Mi starts, cutting off their bickering by ushering them forward into the throng of moving people, a living snake that coils its way in and out of the streets before them.

Henry really is happy. He finds himself, that moment, compelled to smile for no reason - he knows in his heart that a moment that feels like this is rare; that moments made of loving friends and no anxiety come one in a million, especially as entertainers. There’s silence now - all of them in a world all their own as they walk together, cold, rain-chilled breeze nipping at Henry’s skin where it’s exposed. Flashes of skin between pockets and sleeve edge, mask and hat, hair and left-down hood.

The clouds overhead hang delicately in the nearly dark sky, gray against winter purple, unmoving above the masses of people that crawled beneath. The store’s illuminated signs lit up the air around them, a haze where the almost-rain was its thickest.

Henry shivers, but it has little to do with just being cold.

“Zhou Mi is surprisingly good at subtlety,” Henry hears, and he makes his way back down from his thoughts.

He turns his head a few inches to the right to see Ryeowook at his side, staring upward in the same type of fascination he himself was in mere seconds ago. When he heard and registered what Ryeowook said, he nods slowly, another cold shiver running through him. “He is.”

Ryeowook looks at him a moment too long, and Henry isn’t sure what he was supposed to do until-

“Here,” he motions, bringing Henry closer by the tug of his arm. “You won’t stop shivering or chattering your teeth,” he says softly, no trace of annoyance to be heard in his soft, concerned words.

Now, Henry’s wrapped in a dark blue scarf, tucked under yet another layer of protection as he feels the comfortable wave of warmth radiate from Ryeowook’s body up through his. His heart swells in his chest and it’s palpable, that feeling, his fingers itching to clutch at his chest to push it down so that maybe it wouldn’t take his breath from his lungs.

He fights the feelings that said say I love you and ask would you want to spend forever in my space? He just smiles, half honest. “Thank you,” he says, quiet enough that the sounds around them would have drowned it out had they not been standing a hair’s width away from each other.

If Henry were allowing himself to be hopeful, he would say they’re having a moment. Them, in a crowd that doesn’t even know they’re there, eyes trying hard not to speak too loudly or search too fondly. The way each other’s space is their own. The way Henry’s engulfed in a scent not his own but so familiar it might as well be. How he swears they share the same breath because they feel in equilibrium to each other, out of sync with the entire world outside of them.

The way Ryeowook’s leaning looks like an almost-kiss waiting to happen.

But Henry isn’t allowed to be hopeful - not in so many thoughts, at least, and those he saves for his late nights when there are no others to think.

“Oh,” he starts an interruption, that heat in his chest exploding the second he broke their little... moment. “I think we lost them,” and it’s as much a way to break their own infinitesimal world in two as it is a comment on something that he fears might lead him somewhere painful.

Ryeowook’s eyes are unreadable for a split second, and Henry wonders if he saw confusion in there. Ryeowook looks toward the spot Mi’s head disappeared, to a patch of the throng that’s overrun by tall people who like to wear hats. “It’s okay, I think Zhou Mi wants it that way. But did you see!”

Henry hates how cute Ryeowook’s enthusiasm is, the way it scrunches up his eyes and makes his voice sound higher and squeakier than it is. Henry can’t help the smile parting his lips, or the tiny giggle that escapes once they did. “See what?”

“Sungmin looks better!”

“Well, living with Hyuk is challenging even under good conditions,” Henry said.

“Mmmhm.”

-

They unspokenly made the decision to start walking - farther off to the left where something closer to an alley split off from the main street. The smell of some sort of fried meat is stronger down this path - Henry wants to laugh, maybe their stomachs are the guide and they’re merely along for the ride? Because there’re amazing smells coming this way, mixes of meat and sugar and some disgustingly delicious new combinations that he can’t place a food on, and nothing is stopping their unspoken decision to keep walking down this new, small road.

Their feet carry them on a path almost predestined, because when they get to the source of the smell, it was a single vendor.

“Would you look at that!” Ryeowook says.

To their surprise, this food vendor serves barbecued meat and veggies, all skewered on sticks.

“What do you want?” Henry asks, digging into his pocket.

It’s funny, cause they only have one option of fried meat, and very suddenly Ryeowook’s arm is wound around his, an attempt to push his wallet back in and keep his hand in his pocket.

“No, don’t,” Ryeowook says, and why was his hand still there?

“Uhm,” Henry starts, but his heart had already grown too big for words to sneak past.

Ryeowook smiles and, with his free hand, pulls down Henry’s mask. A chill passes over his exposed mouth and chin; it almost seems Ryeowook has another purpose, his thumb lingering on Henry’s jaw, when instead- “Manager gave me spending money, so this one is on him.”

He lets the mask snap back up, stuck under his chin.

Making jokes is a clever way to hide your feelings, as well as stop them in their tracks. “Oh, and here I thought you were gonna be so kind and pay for my food.”

Ryeowook’s giggles are too much, but at least his hand is gone now, less bold in the way the crowds around them moved and broke apart. Bold, like how he rocks into Henry, taking up all of his space like-

And he rocks back a second later, like the bounce of the joke had made its full arc and now they’re back to standing, not leaning.

Henry hates his heart sometimes, the way the air itself makes him want to curl around Ryeowook, and the way day in and day out he knows the limits of their relationship - that for as beautiful a friendship they have, they can never be anything else, without being too much.

Henry falls silent, meat between them as they wander beside each other in streets far less crowded, less open, more intimate in the way the walls around them lean in. The way they somehow make it farther along than it seemed, only seconds of walking.

They both have their masks on, hats on, the threat of ever-present media just a misstep away from reporting their every move. It’s dumb to take those off for too long, and yet, with one sudden, sharp annoyed noise, in one fell swoop, here Ryeowook is - face bare, eyes a mix of tired and wired, looking more an angel than anyone has the right to.

Here, Henry’s at the will of a Ryeowook that wants to share the risk of accidental fame of the wrong kind - he walks without a fear that the distance, or lack thereof, between them might look a little too romantic. But, again, Henry knows how easily he can make mountains out of molehills - how anything could be romantic if it’s from the right person.

There are bins of scarves set out in front of a shop and they slow to a stop.

Henry walks up to the little wire stand marked CLEARANCE first, eyeing the various strips of color interwoven between. They were all thick, warm, variations between pink, yellow, and white.

Ryeowook looks onward from a few feet away, watching Henry in a way that he’s intensely aware of. Henry reaches in. “Hmm,” Henry hums, and Ryeowook’s eyes seemed to sharpen as they take stock of him.

“Do you think,” Henry continues, his free hand fishing through the clearance bin, “that if I buy this ugly monstrosity, Mi will get mad?”

Ryeowook looks at the garish orange and yellow scarf, and a smile widens across his face. “I think I might even get mad!”

Henry giggles, and the sound surprises even himself. No one else can make him do that. “I’ll be wise, then,” and he drops the scarf back where it came from.

Ryeowook takes a few steps toward him, standing with the bin between them as he says nothing. Henry has no idea how on earth he got here from just a moment ago, nervous about what Ryeowook was thinking, but it leaves him with hands that don’t know where to go, where to sit or idle. Afraid they might bump into each other, cause a spark, do something he can’t take back.

But then Ryeowook giggles back, and says, “Here.” He pulls on a scarf that caught his eye, trying to untangle it, but only ending up making it worse. Henry smiles softly at his look of frustration.

“You’re quiet,” Ryeowook notes, and it’s funny ‘cause Henry was thinking the same thing about him. Ryeowook’s eyes don’t lift a fraction, averted to the scarf recently freed from the threads that entrapped it, but Henry takes it as an opportunity to look up from their hands.

“Just... thinking.” Henry doesn’t have a better answer; those would be too much to think about, to delve into, and besides, the waters are shark-infested anyway. Why even go into them?

“Oh,” Ryeowook replies, matter-of-factly. “About what?”

Some people like swimming with sharks they don’t know are there.

Henry laughs - You really wanna know? “Just, y’know, life, and how we must have made an angel or a god happy because no one has recognized us out here while we’re goofing around.”

And then, quietly in Henry’s thoughts, I don’t think I could stomach your answer if you knew.

He takes the last bite of meat from the stick, shrugging, hands still on edge. He steps around the wire bin to join Ryeowook in his poorly executed de-tangling. Something about it all is bittersweet.

Ryeowook doesn’t look completely satisfied with that answer, the way his lips dip a bit, but he goes with it and only says, “Don’t be too sure, in the morning there will probably be pictures.”

The scarf was finally freed, a little “Aha!” from Ryeowook, and Henry takes it in hand; he then begins to wrap it around Ryeowook - sort of like a burrito with the way he makes sure to not only cover his neck but his mouth and nose. “Here. No one will recognize you and you’ll be free to run away.”

Another little giggle, mouth moving against the thick fabric. “They’ll recognize me! They’ll just think I look stupid though!”

Henry scoffs. “Doubtful.”

Ryeowook reaches in, a hurricane in his haste, and pulls out a white scarf, covered in feathers. This, apparently, is Henry’s punishment, and it’s tickling his nose before he can ask what the hell.

“There. Now you look cute.”

Henry’s immensely thankful that his skin was already chill-bitten, already a bit pink. “I guess.”

Ryeowook is in his space and for some reason he has another scarf in hand, ready to be coiled around his neck - Henry has no idea, no inkling, of why he is doing it either, or why he keeps picking obnoxiously over-fluffed ones.

“There,” he says, finalizing his placement of the tail of the scarf to cover Henry’s nose.

“There’s no reason to your madness,” Henry stage-whispers, tugging them all down.

They were like that for a while, but then something happened. They didn’t get bored, they weren’t tired - but they both knew they wanted something else. To be somewhere else. Ryeowook takes off all of Henry’s scarves save his own dark blue one and returns them to the bin, along with the few on himself. “Hey,” he says, coy, decisive, something swimming in his intent as he purposefully sets aside the pieces of fabric. “Let’s keep walking, okay?”

The walls leaned in. “Okay,” Henry says on an exhale. It made him a little braver than he is. A little bolder.

They’re walking when Henry asks, “Do you think we will do this after the tour ends?”

Ryeowook looks at him, digs a little too deeply. “Hm?”

Henry tries not to choke on the words, on the yearning behind them. “Just, this... You know, spending time together. I mean,” he quickly amends, feeling too vulnerable. “Just doing dumb things and eating food and uh, not touring...?”

“Ha, of course.” There was no trace of doubt in his voice and it makes Henry believe him. Then he slips his arm under his so they’re linked at the elbows, the way they sometimes do when there’s no one to tease them for it. “We will.”

It hurts to think that this might be a lie - a justification made in the moment, without thought or care. How much had they seen each other before promotions and filming and recording for Break Down? How much of it was on their terms and not on company contracts?

Not enough. Henry doesn’t say any of this out loud, knows most of it is his own unease, and just presses a tight smile onto his face before looking down at his feet.

No use spoiling the moment, right?

He walks them to the storefront on his left and peers into the low-lit atmosphere. White, sleek mannequins lined the entrance and were littered around the walkway, between people who were looking over the clothing on the racks.

Henry looks one stand up and down, appraising its overflowing appearance. “You would look good in that,” he adds, using his free hand to point to the white bucket hat.

“Maybe more like a golfer,” Ryeowook laughs. It radiates in their contact and Henry feels like laughing too.

“A cute golfer.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say cute,” but there’s humor in his voice. Appreciation, ellipses.

Henry grunts, scoffing a bit. “Sure.”

Ryeowook tugs on them, urging them to move, to not idle.

They don’t.

But then Ryeowook does something dumb that just re-breaks Henry’s heart and leans his head on Henry’s shoulder, strengthening the connection between them as he pulls his arm into a warmer hold.

“And I mean it,” Ryeowook says in his I’m not sleepy voice. “Even if we aren’t touring or recording or practicing, we’re going to do this. I’ll find a way.”

Time slows down, the brick laid beneath them passing slowly. Maybe it just feels that way, since Henry knows their time is limited. That this might be the only night like this he will ever get and that every second spent won’t ever come back.

Something in the air makes Henry a fraction more bold, though. “I want that.”

“I do too,” Ryeowook says and Henry can almost feel the guilt in his voice. “I...”

“What...?”

“I just...”

For some reason, Ryeowook turns suddenly quiet. He’s listening. He’s thinking and gripping onto Henry tighter like he’s a balloon that might fly away into the winter breeze at any moment. Maybe he’s just experiencing the moment. Maybe the crowds are too loud and he’s too tired to rise above their sound.

Maybe, in the fantasy that lives in Henry’s head, he was thinking about how to say I love you and Let’s spend forever together.

“I just want to be a better friend to you,” is what Ryeowook finally settles on. And Henry can’t say he’s surprised, though he should be surprised that he was surprised for something inevitable to be said.

“You already are,” Henry settles on in turn, not daring speak a word more.

Ryeowook pulls his mask back on, so Henry does the same, and they make their way back, arm in arm, silently.

-

They go to meet Sungmin and Mi at the restaurant Sungmin texted them before they left. Though it was meant to add to his birthday celebration, he insisted on treating. He said that this is what he wanted, no matter what else they did, which left no room for argument.

Just before they turn the corner, Ryeowook tugs Henry back by one of his belt loops. “Hold on a second.”

“Hm? What’s up?” Henry asks in English. The self-satisfied smile Ryeowook wears only widens.

“I got you a little something,” the older man says, “but you can’t show anyone, okay?” As he huddles too close, he pulls something out of his pocket, then makes Henry curl his hand over it with his fingers, each matched to their counterpart. Through the soft, small object being pressed into his palm and cupped hand, he can feel the pressure of Ryeowook’s fingertips lingering far longer than they need to, gentle and persistent as a kiss.

Too stunned to react, Henry can only swallow hard. Ryeowook looks away for a flicker of a moment, then back at him.

In Henry’s hand is, of all things, a small hairclip. He figures it out once he takes it between his thumb and forefinger, looking at the back first, then the front. It’s muted green, the design an adorable puppy face with floppy ears hanging down. He’s melting, not only from how cute this is, but that Ryeowook sneakily got him a little present. A present that’s a secret, just for him.

“It’s cute, like you,” Ryeowook teases out of the gate, no easing into it.

“Thank you,” Henry says, more sincerely than he means to, then adds, “You got me a hair clip when I barely have enough hair to put it into?” I don’t wear hair clips would’ve also worked, idiot. But noooo, you have to flirt every chance you get, don’t you.

“No one said you have to wear it,” Ryeowook complains, though the softness of his eyes gives away the joke.

“Just try and stop me,” Henry says with a smirk, pocketing his present. This time, he’s the one who makes the move to put his arm through Ryeowook’s. A sideward glance at the older man shows what almost looks like an embarrassed smile on his face as they turn the corner.

-

Mi and Sungmin are already sitting down and eagerly wave them over. Atop Sungmin’s head rests the type of chic hat Mi favors and definitely picked out for him, clashing horribly with the weird-patterned puffy coat Sungmin’s stuffed himself into. The effect is that the hat looks out of place, but Sungmin looks so pleased with himself that, by silent agreement, they leave him be on the subject for once. (Or for now.) Mi even manages to look at Sungmin fondly, his happiness is that important.

Kyuhyun and Donghae said they were heading back early, according to the messages Sungmin got earlier. Kyuhyun’s said they’re going to get some rest and then eat near the hotel, Sungmin conveyed with an exasperated look, while Donghae’s was at least polite enough to say mostly the same thing but a little more respectfully, adding a thank you for offering to treat and saying that they’ll go out to eat together another time. (The different ways Sungmin scrunched up his face made it harder than usual to look away, though. Damn but his mouth was pretty. Objectively speaking, of course.)

“As if they’ll get any rest,” Mi chimes in, laughing incongruously. “Once they’re already awake...”

Sungmin and Ryeowook both snickered.

It took a second to click, but when it did, Henry couldn’t help but groan, “Don’t I know it!”

“Ah, does Kyuhyun brag to you too?” Ryeowook says with a sort of defeated sympathy, pursing his mouth around his straw. Flustered and mortified at the same time at the thought alone, Henry’s left tongue-tied. He has to physically shake himself out of it.

“Kyuhyun... brags to you?” He can’t help but lean forward, as if that’ll help him make any sense of this. Ryeowook only shrugs.

“He’s my friend. So, you know, we’ve been comfortable talking to each other for a long time. If he needs tips, it’s just... easier to come to me.”

“Tips?” Mi asks with his eyebrows raised way, way up. “That’s a surprise.”

With a fond half-snort, half-laugh, Ryeowook explains, “I may not be as broad-shouldered or muscular, but Donghae and I are similar in height.”

“...Today, I find out there are things I never wanted to know about Donghae,” Mi says, leaning away from the table with a confused expression. His eyebrows have come down to scrunch together, and one side of his upper lip juts up towards his nose.

“Me too,” Sungmin says with a grimace. Ryeowook laughs obnoxiously, smacking the table several times as he does.

“Oh my got,” even in this situation, that same clumsy mistake he always makes when he’s not trying has a wave of affection swelling up in Henry’s chest, “you have to be kidding me. You’ve never thought he was kinda hot?”

With a see-saw sort of shrug of his shoulders, Mi equivocates, “Eh... Kind of? So-so. I understand why everyone likes his face, but-”

“You know he’s not my type,” Sungmin cuts him off. “I like more feminine people. He’s a cute dongsaeng, but that’s it.”

Sinking into his seat, Henry just says, “I just want the food to get here already.” That gets a chuckle from everyone, as well as Ryeowook patting the hand that remains on the table. Beneath it, one of his feet knocks into Henry’s; when he looks over, Ryeowook’s smile is half apologetic, quickly morphing into all mischief.

“Sorry,” Ryeowook says through a laugh, “you and Donghae-hyung are close so it’s weird for you to hear this, huh.”

“Yeah. Please talk about anything else,” Henry practically begs, latching onto the out even if it wasn’t strictly accurate.

“Okay, okay. Guess you’re not gonna back me up on this one,” he jibes, sticking out his tongue for a second before he pivots away. “Oh, Sungmin-hyung, do you remember how cold it was at the last Sukira concert?”

“Of course I remember when you wouldn’t stop complaining about it! You were a barnacle the whole way back, too!”

With a smirk, Ryeowook shoots back, “I can do more next time.”

Sungmin, unexpectedly, raises one eyebrow and smirks right back at him. “I’ll hold you to that one of these days. Unless you’re really all talk?”

Heedless of the tone, Mi interrupts by hugging Sungmin. “Ah, it’s good to see you so happy!” Sungmin leans into it, complimenting him on how kind he is, while Ryeowook...

Ryeowook laughs the easy laughter of someone comfortable playing in the space of possibility.

Now, Henry’s the only one at the table who isn’t happy at all. He doesn’t know if it did mean something, but it could mean something. The expressions, the innuendo, the way Ryeowook slid forward where his elbows held him up as if he wanted to be just that little bit closer to Sungmin, the pointed reminder of what Henry couldn’t give all hurt in one quick, deep stab into his chest.

Of course, that’s when Ryeowook turns his chair, its back to Henry, and says, “Oh, let’s get a picture. I want to post a picture!”

There’re no words to explain what’s wrong, nothing Henry can say. Definitely not in front of other people, even if he could bring himself to try. He crosses his arms over the top of Ryeowook’s chair, rests his head there and tries his best to smile.

Long before getting the alert about the post, or seeing the odd filter that Ryeowook put over the picture and Mi’s goofy face and double v-sign, Henry knows he only half succeeded.

He tugs his cap down and turns his chair around.

“How about we all go out again after the next one? At the end of January.”

Despite himself, Henry jumps at the chance. “I’ll go.” He tries on a grin. “You’re treating, right?” Ryeowook thwaps his arm, then leans his head against the same spot and sighs, not unhappily.

“You’re so needy! Fine, it’ll be my treat next time.”

“What day is it?” Mi asks, flipping through his calendar on his phone.

“January 30th. Ah, I really hope it won’t be too cold.”

Mi frowns at his phone. “I’m really sorry. I already have plans that day.” He swipes once more, the motion economical and elegant. “Is early February okay? When we’re all in Korea?” He directs the question at Sungmin with something like a still-forming pout on his face.

“Not a problem,” Sungmin says sweetly, patting Mi’s arm before he turns in the direction of the table more generally. “But we’re still going out after the concert, right?” With a casual air, he throws his arm over Ryeowook’s shoulders, though his body language is somehow stiff. “I don’t want to cook after a schedule that long.”

“Yeah, a hot meal that I don’t need to make sounds good.” Still ensconced in Sungmin’s arm, quite happily, it seems, Ryeowook turns to Henry, tilts his head cutely. With his hand going right to Henry’s knee, it’s easy to nearly miss the glint of what might be hope in his eyes. “You’ll still come too, right?”

“Yeah,” Henry croaks. He clears his throat to try again. “Yeah, of course. I’ll put it in my calendar now.” Lucky that he has that evening clear - clear to be an idiot who doesn’t know what’s good for him.