In retrospect, Jiho's not entirely sure when it started. Maybe in Vietnam, when the stylist noonas trussed them all up for the first time in preparation for filming—or maybe it was on the plane to Vietnam, when Jiho had startled awake against Yukwon's shoulder without any memory of dozing off in the first place. Maybe even earlier, when he'd gotten back from his absence to the bro hugs of the other members and the abrupt change in Yukwon's face, the subdued smile that quickly brightened and lit his eyes.

Either way, he was ed.

“You okay?”

Jiho blinked once, then again when he realized how dry his eyes felt. “Huh?”

Minhyuk gave him a knowing look from where he sat, his phone in hand. His faint grin was distinctly unnerving. “There you go, you blinked. First time in five minutes.”

“You were staring,” said Jiho.

Minhyuk snorted. “And you haven't moved an inch since Kwonnie started filming.”

Jiho's ears burned, and he opened his mouth to retort, only to be interrupted by an arm slinging itself around his shoulders. Kyung stuck his head into Jiho's line of sight, sighing melodramatically.

“Yah,” he said, “I'm starving. Any more of this and I'll be chasing that chicken for real.”

“The irony,” Minhyuk murmured, returning to his phone.

Jihoon popped up on Jiho's other side, snickering. “HEADLINE: CUCUMBER TURNS CARNIVOROUS! POSSIBLE VEGETABLE REVOLUTION?”

“Oh my God, that isn't even funny,” said Kyung, reaching over to smack him; Jihoon ducked artfully and sent a raspberry his way. A fleck of spit must've hit Kyung on the nose, because a moment later he was chasing Jihoon around the set, knocking over chairs and tables and Taeil and causing a ruckus.

“Guys,” Jaehyo started nearby, only to finish with a startled squawk as the duo promptly ran him over.

A “cut!” from the director, and a handful of stylist noonas scurried up to Yukwon to dab the perspiration off his hairline and refresh his makeup. Among the cries for Kyung and Jihoon to stop ruining their hair, goddammit, Jiho watched, oddly fixated, as a bead of sweat slid down the arch of Yukwon's cheekbone, down a sharp jawline.

He wasn't staring. Not at all.

“It doesn't bother me, if that's what you're worried about,” said Minhyuk, out of the blue.

“What are you—” Jiho paused. He leveled Minhyuk with a flat look.

Minhyuk raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Just putting it out there.”

“Well, put it back,” said Jiho, as Yukwon freed himself from the clutches of the stylists and made his way over. Behind him, another stylist was giving Jihoon an earful as she dragged him in front of the camera. Jihoon looked properly chastised; Kyung, on the other hand, was grinning insidiously and had switched targets to a harassed-looking Jaehyo.

“What did you think?” asked Yukwon, accepting a water bottle from Minhyuk with a nod of thanks.

“You were fabulous,” Minhyuk drawled. “Utterly fabulous. Like an ice water on a hot day, and the sun beaming through the clouds after it rains. Like a breath of fresh air in a waiting room with five other idol groups. Spectacular.”

Yukwon punched him in the shoulder, smothering a laugh. “You , you weren't paying attention at all.”

Jiho didn't like Minhyuk's grin, not one bit. “I know who wa—”

“You did well,” Jiho interceded hastily, and then proceeded to flip his brain upside down in a futile search for a more intelligent comment. Finding none—he hadn't been watching critically at all, had he? Damn it—Jiho wondered if he could sneak off without anyone noticing and bash his head against the nearest wall. “Yeah.”

Something must have shown on his face, because Minhyuk stifled another snort and Yukwon shot them both a bewildered look.

“Thanks,” he said, and smiled. Jiho nodded stiffly.

Minhyuk outright chortled. Jiho tried to incinerate him with just his eyes.

*

They never stopped practicing, not even after they finished filming and returned to the familiarity of Korea. Up at dawn, a trek to the practice room, and afterward Jiho always settled down in the studio, burying himself in music and lyrics and the album. Too many months had passed, and Jiho was itching for the stage, the mic in his hands and the bass in his blood, the screams of the fans as he did what he did best.

He wasn't alone. The members too, felt the deadline approaching; anticipation hung in the air, restless and nervous and full of urgency, and they sang their voices raw and danced themselves weak, eager to prove themselves, determined to face the world again. Sometimes, when Jiho looked at them, saw them coming up behind him with persistence and unyielding strength, he would feel the unmistakable swell of pride, of confidence, of knowing that they had stuck together through the mess of the past year and had come out much stronger for it—and when he closed his eyes, he could still imagine them standing, sweating and bleeding and exhausted but triumphant, at the top.

Now was not one of those times. In fact, Jiho was pretty sure he would punch the lights out of anyone who tried to move him from his facedown sprawl on the practice floor. It was cold. It was nice.

“Water,” someone croaked, and it had to have been Jaehyo because only Jaehyo squeaked like that when hit by a stray water bottle.

“I'm beat,” Jihoon said, from where he was plopped against a slumped, gasping Kyung. Taeil lay stone-still on his back next to them. Only Minhyuk had the class to drag himself over to a bench and sit down.

“No kidding,” Yukwon groaned. “My thighs are killing me.”

Jiho wasn't going to turn around. He really wasn—oh. Look. A mirror. The practice room mirror, which covered the whole ing wall and shamelessly displayed Yukwon stretching in impossible ways behind him in glorious high-definition.

Jiho let his face fall back to the wood floor. his life.

“Jiho-yah,” Kyung called from across the room. “Are you breathing.”

Jiho grumbled.

“I think we should be asking that to Taeil-hyung,” said Jihoon, reaching over to poke Taeil, who, like Jiho, had barely budged.

“Stop that,” said Taeil.

“Two more minutes, then we start up again,” said their dance instructor; the announcement was immediately followed by a collection of groans.

If Jiho could glue his cheek to the floor, he would. Or maybe not; he scooted over to a different, not-warmed-by-body-heat spot and turned his head so that his other cheek received the same cooling treatment. He tried to focus on the choreography. It was solid, for sure, but solid wasn't good enough for live performances, when they didn't have cinematics to cover the fact that most of them were rather talentless at dancing. Great, now he was thinking about the dancer line and Yukwon and Jiho remembered Yukwon's startled look when he'd assigned him the teaser for 11:30, and how he hadn't expected his own heart to stop when Yukwon had showed him, for the first time, the full body wave that Jihoon had so vehemently insisted needed to happen. Thank you maknae, for that.

Something hit the back of his neck, icy cold. Jiho squealed (in a manly voice) and rolled over, glaring.

Yukwon laughed, crouching down beside him and dangling a water bottle in front of Jiho's nose. Jiho snatched it away.

“You could've just tapped me on the shoulder,” he said, dragging himself upright and taking a long chug. Yukwon only smiled, something unreadable in the glint of his eye and line of his mouth; Jiho set down the bottle and returned his cheek to the floor.

“C'mon,” said Yukwon, nudging him. “We've still got practice.”

“Nnnrgh,” said Jiho.

“You can 'nnnrgh' after we're done.”

Jiho sighed, and slowly sat himself back up. Yukwon's hand landed on his shoulder, heavy and warm, squeezing just once before he rose to his feet. Jiho watched him retreat to help Minhyuk drag a whining Kyung out of his puddle of lazy and tired.

For a fleeting moment, his heart ached.

*

“Jihoooooo-yah.”

Kyung was smirking. Kyung smirking was never a good thing. Jiho took another two seconds to contemplate the contents of the fridge, before straightening and shutting the door with deliberate slowness. He turned around. “Yes?”

“So,” said Kyung, swerving to block Jiho's exit from the kitchen. His smirk grew suggestive. “I've been noticing something lately.”

“Congratulations,” Jiho drawled, even as he felt blood rush to his ears.

“Don't be so cold, Jiho.” Kyung peered at him for a moment, then leaned back and crowed with laughter. “I'm right! I am so right. God, you're so obvious.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Oh, you do.” Kyung propped his hands on his hips. “Yukwonnie, right?”

“You're delusional,” said Jiho, face burning.

“And you're not denying it.” Kyung grinned. “You're not denying it at all.”

“Shut up—”

Kyung danced away from Jiho's attempt to strangle him and broke out into song. “Jiho and Yukwon, sitting in a tree, K-I-S—ACK!”

“Oh my God,” Jiho groaned, arm clamped around Kyung's neck, “is that a nursery rhyme you learned in America or something because that is the wors—” Kyung flailed, smacking him the nose with the back of his hand; Jiho stumbled back and lost his balance, and a moment later they were on the ground, scuffling in a pile of sharp elbows and wriggling limbs.

“Uh,” said Taeil, and they looked up to see the eldest standing in the doorway they were blocking. “Should I come back later?”

“No, it's okay,” said Jiho. Kyung gurgled. “Feel free to step over us, hyung.”

Taeil did so, eyebrows raised, and retrieved a drink from the fridge. He eyed them on the way out, and Jiho thought he heard a “get a room” under Taeil's breath, but that could've just been his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Kyung broke free with a gasp. “As if,” he said. “You only want to room with Kwonnie now.”

Jiho's ensuing elbow-jab was very affectionate.

*

If Jiho was being completely honest, he'd taken notice of Yukwon the moment he'd stepped into the audition room only a few years ago. It must have been chemistry, the way they had gotten along instantly, despite all of their differences. Or maybe they weren't different at all, and that was why.

Jiho pulled down his headphones, rubbing his eyes with a heavy sigh and pulling away from the audio console. He rolled his neck and felt a satisfying crack, then twisted his torso and heard the same in his waist. The clock on the bottom corner of the computer screen flashed 2:03AM. Last time Jiho had checked, it'd been 7PM.

He spun around in his swivel chair, once, twice, then froze and did a double take, turning back to stare at the curled up figure on the couch. The other members had left hours ago. Jiho hadn't noticed Yukwon had stayed.

Jiho stood up and stretched one more time, loosening the tension in his muscles, before approaching as quietly as he could manage. Yukwon's breathing was slow and even, his cheek mashed against a folded arm and his knees slightly tucked in. Fluffed, messy hair brushed against paper-thin eyelids.

Jiho leaned forward and smoothed some of it away. Realizing what he was doing, he drew back.

Good job Jiho. You are officially a girl.

Yukwon stirred. Jiho jumped, face flushing despite himself, and by the time Yukwon squinted open his eyes Jiho had found a very interesting spot of carpet beside the couch.

“What time is it?”

“2AM,” said Jiho.

Yukwon yawned, shifting and covering his eyes with the back of his hand. “Late.”

“Yeah,” said Jiho intelligently. Surprise worn off, he seated himself on the floor in front of the couch, his back to the cushions. Behind him, Yukwon moved again, and a moment later Jiho felt fingers bury themselves in his hair, , matting, absently combing through.

It took a minute for Jiho to find his voice. “What are you doing.”

“Your hair,” Yukwon mumbled, “is too damn fluffy.”

“What.”

Yukwon pulled away. Jiho turned around, frowning. “I didn't say you had to stop.” Yukwon laughed at that, quiet, his eyes blinking heavily, sluggishly. Jiho frowned again, eyes softening, and felt his heart do the same.

“Go back to sleep.”

Yukwon gave him a halfhearted punch. “I should say that to you, moron. You're never at the dorm anymore.”

It was true. More often than not, Jiho found himself returning to the Block B dorm only after the others had fallen asleep. He was only there in the morning, rising along with them in preparation for practice—but there was work to be done, and Jiho couldn't abandon the studio just yet, not with their comeback looming over their heads.

He made to shrug, and Yukwon reached for him. It was his only warning before he was pulled forward, with no choice but to either land on the cushions beside Yukwon or bang his knee against the wood frame.

Jiho settled down. The couch was narrow, not made for two; it was cramped, but Yukwon was comfortable and solid and kind of like a hot water bottle.

Suddenly exhausted, Jiho closed his eyes. If he thought he felt his hair being brushed aside—an echo of his own actions—he was too far gone to question it.

*

“So,” said Minhyuk the next day, as they stretched in preparation for the next few hours of grueling dance practice, “should I be buying earplugs soon?”

Jiho sputtered.

“Hyung,” Yukwon called from the opposite end of the room (where Taeil was hunched over with the hood of his sweater drawn tightly around his face, and Jihoon was trying to tug it off him. Jiho didn't want to know), “Let's start first.”

“Right,” said Minhyuk. His eyes twinkled as he looked back to Jiho. “Make sure you don't stare too hard, Jiho-yah. We wouldn't want our illustrious leader tripping over his own feet now, would we.”

Jiho tried to think up a witty retort; coming up blank, he flipped Minhyuk the single-finger salute instead. Minhyuk chuckled and went to join Yukwon in front of the mirror.

*

They watched the final cut of the Nillili Mambo music video for the first time with wide eyes and unstraying focus, huddled together around the single computer screen in the studio. The pirate concept had turned out better than Jiho had ever expected, appropriately gritty and grungy but with an underlying sense of humor that Block B couldn't seem to do without. It was who they were, and Jiho preferred it that way.

They watched it again just for the hell of it, and it wasn't until Jihoon pointed out Taeil's walrus-face in the opening minute of the video (Taeil's face went an alarming shade of pink) that they went full out in making fun of themselves. No one got off easy, whether it was for abysmal fashion choices (“Hey,” Jiho huffed, “only a true man can wear a floral coat and look as badass as I do.”) or strange facial expressions (“I don't think a chicken's able to fulfill what hyung actually wants,” said Jihoon, to roars of laughter and Kyung's hollering in the back), but it was okay, because they were Block B and it wasn't like they had an image anyway after their romp in the mud-flat the year prior.

Yukwon stood behind Jiho the whole time, leaning over to watch the screen over his shoulder, and every now and then Jiho could feel the soft brush of an exhale against his neck. Then again, it could've been the air conditioning, but Jiho had passed the denial stage awhile ago.

“C'mon everybody just tap tap twist your body,” came Yukwon's voice on screen, startling in the strength behind it. Back when they'd been auditioning for their vocal roles, Jiho had nearly been struck dumb by the same strength. Yukwon had never been a terrible singer, but his voice, mellow with a rasped edge, had always been more suited to quieter parts.

“Unf,” said Kyung, a -eating grin splitting his face. “Kwonnie looks good, doesn't he?”

“Sounds good too,” Minhyuk chipped in.

Jiho was going to kill them.

Yukwon rolled his eyes.

“What about me?” asked Jaehyo.

“Don't worry hyung,” said Kyung, clapping him on the shoulders. “You're solid. That flash'll drive the fans wild.”

Jaehyo buried his face in his hands.

*

Jiho reclaimed the swivel chair as the members all made to leave, filing out of the door one by one. Yukwon didn't follow, plopping down on the couch instead. Kyung was the last to go, and Jiho swore he gave him a wink as he closed the door behind him, which sent all sorts of unwanted goosebumps down Jiho's spine.

“Is it just me or has he been acting greasier than usual?” Yukwon mused.

“Then I'm not completely crazy,” Jiho grumbled.

Yukwon made a considering sound. “Minhyuk's been acting a bit dodgy too.”

Jiho felt himself tense. “Maybe he got a new girlfriend.” Heavens knew he needed one, after moping around for the better half of the year. It had been pretty dismal to watch.

Yukwon's lips tilted at the corners. He said nothing else. Jiho pulled his headphones over his ears and set to work.

An inordinate amount of time passed—enough that the audio tracks onscreen morphed into nothing but colorful squiggles, and Jiho rubbed his forehead. It was tedious, listening to the same clips over and over, editing and reediting and prying apart tracks just to find that one damn thing that would make it perfect—but Jiho would settle for nothing less than perfect, especially now.

He didn't notice Yukwon coming up behind him, not until hands rested themselves on his shoulders and thumbs dug in above his shoulder blades. Jiho pushed down his headphones.

“You're doing an awfully good impression of a statue right now,” said Yukwon dryly.

“I'm a man of many talents,” said Jiho.

Yukwon chuckled, and Jiho smiled, spinning around in his chair to face him. Their knees knocked together, and Yukwon leaned forward and braced himself on both arms of the chair. They looked at each other for a long moment, and Jiho wondered how he hadn't noticed.

He straightened, reached up, and drew Yukwon the rest of the way down. Their lips met, brief and chaste, and Jiho felt rather than saw Yukwon's quiet smile.

They came apart and back together, less chaste now, and Jiho staggered forward from his seat so that they were at a more equal height, one hand curling around the back of Yukwon's neck and the other tangling in his hair, and Yukwon's hands slid down to grip tightly at Jiho's waist.

When they broke apart this time, Jiho was appropriately breathless and Yukwon was grinning like cat with cream, his thumb rubbing idle circles in Jiho's hip. Jiho kissed him again, just for good measure.

“I was wondering when you'd do that,” said Yukwon, bumping their foreheads.

Jiho paused, then groaned. “How long have you known?”

Yukwon shrugged. “A month. Give or take.” He buried his face into the junction between Jiho's neck and shoulder, wrapping his arms fully around Jiho's back. Jiho could still feel his smile. “You're not very discreet, you know. I could see you staring at me during filming.”

Jiho huffed and tightened his own grip around Yukwon, hoping Yukwon didn't notice the way Jiho's heart thundered in his ribcage.

*

“About time,” said Kyung, grinning like a maniac as Minhyuk smiled.

“No kidding,” said Taeil. They all turned to stare at him. “What?”

Jaehyo set down his chopsticks. “Just don't do anything stupid, okay? Not everyone is as tolerant as us,” he said seriously, but he looked absolutely ridiculous in his flyaway bedhead so all Jiho could do was nod and try not to laugh.

Kyung had no such reservations, pointing. “Hyung, you should look in the mirror first.”

Jaehyo threw a piece of a pork at him.

“Thank you,” said Kyung, picking it off his lap and putting it in his bowl.

Jihoon was still glancing between Jiho and Yukwon, looking utterly baffled.

“I guess I should get those earplugs now,” said Minhyuk casually, as if he was discussing the weather.

Kyung suddenly looked horrified.

*

After practice, Jiho headed for the studio, as was routine. He sat down and reached for his headphones, only for another hand to land on his, rings glimmering in the artificial light. Jiho looked up.

Yukwon's eyes were calm. “Jiho-yah,” he said. “I think a break would do you good.”

Jiho looked back to the computer, to the monitor glowing bluish white and the audio waiting to be tweaked, finalized, to his headphones just out of reach. They had a month left; he had no time to waste, but Yukwon curled his fingers around Jiho's knuckles, and Jiho wondered how much he'd missed, sitting here all the time.

Jiho rotated his wrist, threaded their fingers together. “I'm nervous,” he admitted.

One month left.

“We all are,” said Yukwon. “Don't take the burden alone. You've still got the six of us, remember that.” Jiho's lips twitched, and Yukwon squeezed his hand, voice lowering. “We've got to show everyone our best, and that means we can't have you be a skeleton on stage.”

Slowly, Jiho nodded, and rose from his seat. “Yeah,” he said.

Yukwon grinned back. “Let's go.”

And Jiho went.

(EXTRA)

“Shove over,” hissed Jaehyo, nudging Kyung to the side.

“You shove,” Kyung hissed back. “I have rights, I helped them get together.”

“Are they making out?” asked Minhyuk.

“I can't see anything,” said Jihoon.

“That's okay, you're too young,” said Kyung.

“Oh my God,” said Taeil. “Why am I in this group.”

“You love us, hyung,” said Jihoon, pulling him into a headlock. Taeil wriggled for a few moments, then gave up and fell limp.

“,” said Kyung, “they're coming this way, move over, move over!”

By the time Jiho stepped out through the door, eyes narrowed, Jaehyo and Minhyuk were engaged in a conversation by the wall, Jihoon still had Taeil in a headlock, and Kyung was whistling at nothing. When he saw Jiho, he sprouted a little wave, not unlike the one in their Nillili Mambo choreography.

“Are you taking a break today? We should go somewhere,” he said brightly.

“What were you guys doing?” asked Jiho. “Is that your phone?”

Kyung hid it behind his back. “I was texting,” he said.

“Right, you were texting with your phone at arms length in the doorway,” said Jiho.

Kyung paused. “I should go.”

He launched off like a rocket, Jiho close at his heels. Yukwon came out into the hallway, scratching the back of his head as he joined the others in watching the mayhem (“It wasn't like you guys did anything!” Kyung shouted. “I don't care!” Jiho hollered back).

“We're not sane, are we," he sighed. Minhyuk smiled wryly.

“Not at all. We're just Block B.”