Woo Jiho and Jay Park are good friends. They didn’t become close on purpose, but it was difficult for them not to when they somehow always ended up hanging out during downtime on shows together. Whether it was sharing a dressing room or getting done with hair and makeup at the same time, they’d spent a good amount of time together and grown closer, finding that they’re very similar to each other, preferring the same music and clothing brands and sharing a mutual respect for each other’s work. When the Thailand incident happened, they had even more in common.

It had been a while since Jay saw the downtrodden boy after that, but between then and now Jay realized his thoughts were preoccupied with the guy. He looked for news on them, recordings of their concerts, even scoured youtube for fancams at airports, and in the midst of it, he felt his heart start to beat a little faster each time he saw the leader. How could he help himself, when Zico was so authentic, so genuine? His performances, his gestures, his ideals, everything. So different and amazing to Jay, who’s used to the gross, plastic fakeness of the Korean music industry and the way it twists you.

Of course, he keeps in touch with the younger man during this time, texting or talking to him over the phone whenever he gets the chance, trying to help the younger leader work out emotions very familiar to him. He finally admits he has a crush when he realizes how happy it makes him when Jiho calls him “hyung” without a hint of sarcasm, despite towering three inches over him. Even over the phone, it’s really nice to hear someone take him seriously despite his shortcomings. Everything that Jiho makes him feel is nice.

He actually decides to do nothing about these feelings, knowing how much trouble he could get them both in, and even worse, knowing how Zico would probably never reciprocate them and was more likely to be disgusted than enthused. It stings a little, but this isn’t his first time at the rodeo and he knows well how much of a problem he could cause. He’s willing to sacrifice his feelings for the good of both of them and their futures.

That is, until one night, when Jiho is in Korea, the rest of Block B is in Japan, and Jay is in America, his phone ringing at what is a totally ungodly hour for him, but a completely reasonable one for those in the pacific east. He answers, groggily asking what exactly the other needed right now. He’s met with a flood of words, fast Korean and poorly put together English, and the most that Jay can glean is that Jiho is lonely, so lonely, Jay is all he has other than his band and somehow he misses him more than all the others right now. He doesn’t know what this is but he’s never felt it before and if he had a choice, Jay would be with him in Korea, right now and always.

And that is the best he can extract from 45 minutes worth of babbling.

But it's not like Jay minds listening to the younger’s nasally, coughing voice, rationalizing that his rhinitis medicine was doing something weird to his boundaries. He tries to tell himself it’s nothing, just that stupid skinship they have there, those different, weird rules about intimacy, but his heart doesn’t stop pounding even after he’s hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling for another half hour, wide awake and thinking so hard. He decides to give it a shot. He's never had a problem causing problems before, after all.

It’s a while until they’re all in the same country again, and even longer until they’re on the same show together. Jiho had been trying to meet with him ever since he came back, and it physically hurt Jay each time he was forced to shoot him down in favor of recording or choreography or some other thing that wasn't half as much fun as being around the younger. But now, it’s business that brings them together instead of pulling them apart. Zico’s hair is full of alligator clips and Jay’s makeup is only half done when they’re pushed into a small bathroom connected with the changing room, to clear floor space for others getting ready. Their clothes are thrown in after them unceremoniously, and they sort through them a bit, trying to decide whose is who’s based on color scheme, as the lumps of fabric give little clue as to what size body they’re intended for.

Jay is facing the mirror while Jiho is turned more towards the door, and Jay can’t help but stare. They’re exchanging good natured banter and Jay can barely keep up as he watches cloth slide up long, perfect, pale legs - a y sight before the pants stop short and Jiho’s ankles are still showing. He's shirtless and rambling on about some stupid thing Pyo did when he feels Jay’s hands on his shoulders, his back against the door, and the words dying on his lips. He forgets completely that he has the advantage of height, looking down at Jay with wide eyes and waiting to see what he’d do.

While Jay was bottled up in his own feelings, Jiho was caught in a whirlwind of emotional problems that rivaled his physical ones. Beyond everything else that had already taken a on him, he was falling in love with another man. A really awesome, super talented, y man who was 100% out of his league even if it were remotely okay for him to even think of the two of them being together. Or if there were even the slightest chance that Jay would be interested in turn. He thinks it best to crush these feelings down into his gut until they died and he could go back to feigning interest in chicks. But when his band leaves and he doesn’t even have Kyung to define himself next to, when he has to be his own person and make his own decisions, just for him, he can’t stop himself from picking up the phone and doing the best he can at confessing to the other.

Back then, he had guessed that he hadn’t been clear enough and Jay hadn’t understood what he was trying to say. But now, with Jay three inches in front of his face and the two of them sharing breath and eye contact and personal space, he figures he was clear enough. He figures it doesn’t hurt to be even clearer, though, and lurches forward for an awkward, short, perfect kiss - he doesn’t have much practice. Jay, on the other hand, is astonished and reciprocates before he can even pull away, pushing him hard against the door and guiding him through a short but intense make out session. Jiho is overwhelmed but Jay is far from finished, his mouth traveling lower and gently exploring the skin there as his hands follow suit and go to the waistband of his pants, pushing the already undone garment down to the ground.

This isn’t what Jiho imagined at all when it came to some sort of confession, and he’s about to freak out about how fast everything is going when Jay pulls away, laughter dancing on his lips as he gently pushes him back and kneels to pick the pants up off the ground and put them on himself, barely able to suppress his mirth when he next opens his mouth to speak.

“What? You put on my pants.”