Kyungsoo leaves his father's office feeling a little more downhearted than he had previously. He'd been thankful earlier that day when his show troupe pulled up in the quiet seaside town, knowing that this was the town where his father was based. But somehow his visits to his father never end quite how he wants them to.

 

He loves his father but even he knows he is a disappointment to him.

 

Kyungsoo supposes he shouldn't be shocked that the visit didn't go well. As the son of a general, singing in a traveling showgirl performance rather than fighting for his freedom probably doesn't go down well. Throw in the fact that Kyungsoo is overly sensitive and soft for his father's liking, and it's a wonder the two can even hold a decent conversation.

 

Kyungsoo's pulled out of his dreary thoughts as he stumbles into a man, taller than him, clad in army uniform. The man looks down at him for a moment as if scared, but after glancing over Kyungsoo appears to decide that he is no threat and grins.

 

Kyungsoo's taken aback at that moment, flustered at the flawless smile from such a tall and, Kyungsoo can't help but admit, handsome stranger, and hurriedly takes two steps backwards to allow the man his personal space. But he doesn't seem to mind; his grin grows wider as Kyungsoo becomes more flustered.

 

"You need to be careful," the soldier says, and Kyungsoo can't work out if he's trying to be charming or patronizing. He bows hurriedly and mutters some kind of apology, before scurrying off, away from the honey-skinned soldier. The last thing Kyungsoo needs right now is run-ins with mysterious strangers and the like.

 

He just needs to do his job and get it over with. And avoid his father as much as possible.

 

---

Rehearsal is tough. It's already July, and the spotlights do nothing for the heat. Kyungsoo is dripping in sweat and his throat is dry when they finally finish and he falls back on a wooden crate backstage, gasping for water. 

 

The stage is set up in the center square of the city, and Kyungsoo tries not to think about the crowds of locals that will fill the area later that night. It gives him butterflies.

 

He watches weakly as the showgirls pass him, giggling about whatever it is showgirls giggle about. Kyungsoo tries to avoid conversations that involve more than two at a time, albeit he become swamped in gossip and female chatter.

 

Tiffany stays behind and he helps her pack props away in the ambiguous wooden crates. He wonders if he will ever get a break. He knows the girls have a curfew they're not allowed to break, but nobody has ever been specific about whether Kyungsoo is allowed out at night. He supposes he may be. After all, the girls are the ones on show, while he stays at the back, so he'd hardly be recognized. And the curfew is more about the fact that it's dangerous for the girls to go out alone at night.

 

Surely Kyungsoo was safe?

 

Kyungsoo thinks to the handsome soldier he'd bumped into earlier. He wonders if he'll watch the show tonight. If he'll recognize him.

 

A small part of him hopes that he will.

 

---

And so Kyungsoo finds himself climbing the steps up to the stage two at a time, panting heavily. He's still wary in case his boss comes looking for him. He's not sure how he'd explain himself.

 

Heart racing, he decides the safest bet is to sit backstage. Nobody would find him there, because why would he go back to the stage, the place he actively tries to avoid if he can? Surely if he was going to run away, he'd find himself at one of the local taverns.

 

"They'll never find you here," Kyungsoo assures himself aloud, trying to steady his breathing, "just relax for once in you life. This is supposed to be your limited hours of freedom so for God's sake enjoy them."

 

He leans back against the flimsy wall of the stage and sighs heavily, breathing in the warm summer air. He holds his breath, listening to the peaceful sounds of the early morning town.

 

It's only then that he's painfully aware of breathing other than his own beside him. He flinches.

 

“So what’s your story?”

 

Kyungsoo feels a stab of recognition at the voice, although he knows he shouldn’t. He whips round to squint at the figure for a moment and it soon dawns on him that it's the golden skinned stranger from before, sitting on a stack of wooden crates. He’s dressed in overalls this time, worn at the knees, and his hair is sticking up at odd angles. Kyungsoo gets a bizarre urge to run his fingers through his hair to smooth it down, but restrains himself, because that would be weird.

 

“I thought you were a soldier,” Kyungsoo says, avoiding the stranger’s question. Overalls shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

“Not yet. Still a few months to go until I’m twenty. In the meantime I’m a simple stagehand.”

 

Kyungsoo nods uncertainly and moves to walk in the opposite direction, but Overalls seems to have another idea. He pats the crate beside him, half hidden in shadows.

 

“Sit and chat a while, Showboy, I don’t bite. I’m going to smoke, you can have one if you want.”

 

Kyungsoo has better things to do than sit with some poor stagehand in the middle of the night, but the cigarettes slotted between the stranger’s fingers are inviting, and he finally gives in. The stagehand grins and hands one over, before flicking open his lighter, flame springing to life in the darkness.

 

The dim glow lets Kyungsoo see his face a little better, if only for a moment. His eyes are a dark, intriguing brown, and softer than Kyungsoo had expected, the omnipotent smile seeming out of place against such young features.

 

The stranger lights Kyungsoo up first, then leans in to light his own, fingers brushing against his jaw. The moment feels painfully intimate to be shared with somebody he’s only just met. Kyungsoo pulls away as quickly as possible, but the stranger doesn’t seem all too flustered.

 

“So do you have a name?” Overalls asks, and Kyungsoo takes a drag of his cigarette, letting the numbing warmth fill his chest. He hasn’t smoked in months, and Kyungsoo wonders how Overalls has gotten his hands on them. He must either have some good connections or ninja-like reflexes, Kyungsoo thinks.

 

He lets the smoke out, submerging into the grey, dust filled air around them, before deciding to answer the stranger’s question.

 

“D.O.”

 

“That’s not your real name,” Overalls says smugly, “that’s a pathetic excuse for a stage name. If you’re going to change your name, at least have something that sounds credible. D.O just sounds ridiculous.”

 

Kyungsoo feels a little hurt, but truthfully, he couldn’t care less about the stagehand’s opinion. It was never his idea anyway, the new name. He would have been perfectly happy as Do Kyungsoo, but his boss appeared to be under the impression that he’d want to hide his identity. Like he was ashamed of himself, being center stage instead of front line.

 

“What would be a good name then?”

 

The stranger thinks for a moment, apparently debating with himself how to answer, before saying, “Kai. That’s the name I’d choose. I actually considered changing my name to Kai at one point.”

 

“You’re kidding,” Kyungsoo chuckles, confidence flooding back now that he has a lungful of smoke and only this weird kid around to hear him, “Kai is just as stupid as D.O. You have no right to judge.”

 

The stranger, (who Kyungsoo has now dubbed ‘Kai’ in his mind, because despite what he said about it being stupid, the name oddly suits him) grins widely, and shrugs. Kyungsoo notices that his eyes crinkle when he smiles and the mysterious aura is completely shattered when Kai lets out an unexpected snort.

 

“Fine,” he says, smoke swirling eerily in the midnight light, shrouding his face is a mist-like veil, “D.O it is. And you can call me Kai. And we can both sound ridiculous together.”

 

Kyungsoo smiles and the two look at each other for a moment, but Kyungsoo is the first to break the eye contact. These kind of things, these awkward actions, don’t seem to have any effect on Kai.

 

“What are you doing out here anyway?” Kyungsoo asks, looking out onto the empty plaza. In a few days the area would be filled with soldiers and citizens alike, and Kyungsoo would have to sing again, in front of them. He grits his teeth at the thought.

 

From a glance Kyungsoo sees that Kai is looking in the same direction, and Kyungsoo wonders what he’s thinking about to give him such a melancholic expression. He’s pretty sure, from the look on his face, it isn’t stress over tomorrow’s show.

 

“I like to sit out here sometimes, and think,” Kai says, voice detached from his body, “It’s nice out here, away from everybody. It’s nice to hear silence for a while.”

 

Kyungsoo nods, because he knows exactly what Kai is talking about, and truthfully, Kyungsoo is here for the same reasons. It's rare for him to find time for himself nowadays.

 

“And of course we know why you’re here,” Kai says suddenly, “the way you were talking to yourself, I thought you were sleepwalking or something. I’m pretty sure it’s not normal.”

 

Kyungsoo wants to say something back, but every retort seems too harsh to be said to an acquaintance, and Kyungsoo has to remind himself that he and Kai have just met. He settles on a brief smile and shaky laugh, and hopes it suffices.

 

“The only reason I became a stagehand was to work with the showgirls,” Kai admits, “but honestly I hardly see them. You’re lucky that you get to spend so much time with them. Please tell me you’ve ed at least one of them.”

 

Kyungsoo flushes at the statement but puffs out his chest proudly, hoping that Kai won’t catch on to the fact that he hasn’t kissed a girl since elementary school, or that his last crush had been the guy who sat next to him in English class.

 

“Sunny’s my favourite,” Kyungsoo says, which isn’t a lie, because he and Sunny have the same taste in music and often swap recommendations when they pass each other. Kai grunts in approval.

 

“That’s the one with the short blonde hair, right? I see we have the same tastes, D.O. The other blonde's a cutie, the short one that smiles all the time.”

 

Kyungsoo grins to himself.

 

“Luna. She’s sweet. I can fix you up a date if you like, she’s single.”

 

Kai’s face lights up, and Kyungsoo feels fuzzy all over again. He likes pleasing people, always has, and just seeing Kai grin so brightly cheers Kyungsoo up considerably.

 

“It can be my payment,” Kyungsoo says, flicking the of his cigarette to the ground and grinding it beneath the sole of his shoe, “for the cigarette. And the riveting conversation.”

 

Kai mimics Kyungsoo and tosses his own cigarette to the floor. He hops off the crate and smoothes the creases from his overalls.

 

“Any time,” Kai says, patting Kyungsoo on the back before giving a swift jerk of the head as a farewell. Kyungsoo opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again just as quickly. He has nothing else to say to the boy, he realises, and so he waits until Kai is long gone, down an alleyway near the back of the plaza, before sliding off his own crate and making his way back to the moth eaten motel.

 

---

Kyungsoo once again finds himself halfway up the steps at the side of the stage that night, and tries to convince himself that it’s the cigarettes he really wants, not to talk to Kai again. After all, that would be ridiculous. Kyungsoo has only one more day before he leaves, so there’s no point in making friends.

 

“You’re a good singer, you know,” is the first thing Kai says, tossing his lighter and another cigarette to Kyungsoo.

 

“I do sing for a living,” Kyungsoo retorts, but feels a flood of pride in his gut all the same, “so it’s to be expected.”

 

He sits down beside Kai again, on the dusty crate in the wings, and the two spend a moment to truly appreciate the cigarettes that Kai has presumably smuggled illegally. Kyungsoo tries not to think about the show that evening. He can’t remember much about it, except that he stumbled on the first line and only really picked it up again in the last chorus. He just hopes the crowd were too busy goggling at scantily clad showgirls to notice.

 

“I didn’t think you’d be that good. Before the show you looked like you really didn’t want to be there. Stage fright?”

 

“No,” Kyungsoo says, but his voice is thinner than usual and Kai would be an idiot not to notice. If he does, he doesn’t say anything.

 

“I always wanted to be a dancer,” Kai says, quickly changing the subject. Kyungsoo chokes on his own spit and hot smoke comes out of his nose, making his eyes water.

 

“I just had an awful mental image of you dressed as a showgirl,” Kyungsoo splutters, and Kai grunts in protest, punching Kyungsoo lightly on the arm, clearly trying to disguise a smirk as a frown of disapproval.

 

“Honestly though,” Kai says when Kyungsoo’s laughter has died down, “being a soldier wasn’t always the dream. Maybe once the war is over, I’ll pursue it. I was pretty good. Had lessons and everything. Only my old man didn’t know. He thought I was a student at some elite cram school. Never even found out that I was kicked out on the first day.”

 

Kyungsoo tries to imagine rebellious teenage Kai hauling textbooks out of the house, only to dump them behind a nearby hedge, swapping them for dance shoes and sweatpants instead. It seems almost surreal, and Kyungsoo finds it hard to believe that the lazy stagehand who shares cigarettes with some guy he barely knows could ever have been so focused on something.

 

He wants to ask Kai a number of questions, like why he got kicked out of school, whether he and his father got along, why he stopped dancing and started shifting scenery for a living, but they all seem too personal. Kyungsoo wishes he had more time, to really get to know Kai, so that he could ask him these things. There’s something about the mysterious boy with the plush lips and smooth bare arms that makes Kyungsoo wish wholeheartedly that he could do this everyday, sit out on the stage in the quiet of the early morning and just talk about anything and everything.

 

“When I first saw you,” Kyungsoo says in the end, breaking the silence, “I thought you were a soldier. You were dressed as one at least.”

 

“Ah,” Kai says, smile tugging at his lips, “I was wondering when you’d ask me about that. I’m not going to lie to you, it’s really easy to just sneak into the barracks, so long as you look the part. I was visiting a friend.”

 

Kyungsoo laughs and can’t help but be impressed.

 

“I can’t believe you,” he says, “I really can’t.”

 

Kai smirks, letting the smoke filter between his teeth in a hazy puff, before saying, “Where did you think I got these from?”

 

“You steal cigarettes from soldiers?”

 

Kyungsoo can barely believe what he’s hearing, and Kai is grinning from ear to ear, obviously proud of himself. Kyungsoo finds himself laughing, for no reason other than he’s damn happy for the first time in a while. He has nothing to be particularly happy about, but it’s somehow heart-warming to think that somebody like Kai exists in such dreary circumstances. Somebody who feels so at ease that he can share stories of teenage dreams and illegal escapades to somebody like Kyungsoo without a care in the world.

 

Kyungsoo realises that he’s never met anybody quite like Kai before. 

 

“Why are you telling me all this?” Kyungsoo asks, failing at keeping the smile from his face, “I could have you arrested. You need to stop trusting people blindly, especially nowadays.”

 

Kai rolls his eyes and flicks the end of his cigarette to the ground, and Kyungsoo realises with a heavy heart that he’s disappointed that the conversation’s drawing to a close. He could sit out here all night, he realises, listening to Kai’s stories. It’s becoming almost like routine.

 

“Don’t lecture me,” Kai says assuredly, “I know who I can trust and who I can’t. You wouldn’t rat me out, D.O. I’m good at reading people.”

 

Kai is already walking away when Kyungsoo goes to respond, so Kyungsoo says nothing, but he has a feeling Kai already knows what he wants to say.

 

---

Kyungsoo is greeted on the final night to a miserable looking Kai, cigarette pursed between plump lips, bottle of soju in hand. He lights up slightly at the sight of Kyungsoo, and holds up the bottle, along with the comment of, “Look what else I smuggled D.O, you might have to trade me your soul for a sip.”

 

“What's the occasion?” Kyungsoo asks warily, taking the cigarette from Kai's outstretched fingers and sitting down beside him. Kai gives a half-hearted laugh and s the bottle into Kyungsoo's grasp.

 

“That Luna chick dumped me,” Kai announces dramatically, ignoring Kyungsoo's question, “Honestly though, she was impossible. I couldn't ignore the crap coming out of for a second. Claimed she did ballet but she couldn't tell her deboulé from her demi detourné! I couldn't withstand it even for her pretty face. I have to admit, D.O – the date did not go well.”

 

Kyungsoo's surprised, but for some reason, not too upset, despite Kai's melodramatic negativity.

 

“I guess I didn't match you up well,” Kyungsoo admits, scratching the back of his head, “Luna's not a bad girl, but she has a strong personality. I guess the two of you just aren't compatible.”

 

Kai shrugs and Luna is mentioned no more. The two sit for a while in silence, passing the bottle back and forth, and suddenly everything is much easier now that Kyungsoo's sight is a little blurry and his thoughts aren't entirely tangible.

 

“I hate singing,” Kyungsoo announces when the silence gets to him, and Kai makes some choked noise between skepticism and disbelief.

 

“You don't,” he says, shaking his head firmly, “I've heard you sing. Nobody with a voice like that could hate singing, no way.”

 

“Well then,” Kyungsoo says, taking another gulp of soju from the bottle. It prickles the back of his throat, and the burning sensation that follows is strangely relaxing. “I don't hate singing, per say, than singing in front of people. I hate being center of attention. I hate the stage.”

 

He's not quite sure why he's saying this, but Kai doesn't seem bothered by it, and Kyungsoo realises that he's missed this, being able to talk to somebody so freely about his problems. Traveling meant meaningful conversation was sparse; it was practice or sleep, day after day. Kai, he understands, is what he needs right now.

 

“Why do you do it then?” Kai asks, and his speech is slurred at the edges and he his head, pupils slowly but surely depleting, “why do something you hate so much?”

 

And Kyungsoo feels the shame bubbling back up again, the shame he's managed to repress to the back of his mind and wrestle into a wooden box locked tight so that it could never break free. But Kai's words have brought it back, as painful and fiery as ever, and Kyungsoo doesn't reply for a moment in fear that he might be sick.

 

“Because I've let everybody down. Because I can't go out and fight and I can't make my family proud."

 

Kyungsoo has to swallow hard to remove the lump in his throat before continuing.

 

"But I knew I had to do something. I may have a weak heart, but this heart could go out into the world and it could give people hope, and bring people that have nothing just a few minutes of happiness, and I decided this was it. This was something I could do, my role to play. It may not seem like a lot, but it's something.”

 

He's never said this out loud before, albeit for his first day on the road, which in all fairness was mostly him sobbing uncontrollably and muttering incoherent half-language-half-wail's while Jessica patted him on the back and offered him warm milk at supper, and it feels good to let it out. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, letting the mild morning air fill his lungs, and holds it there for as long as he can.

 

Kai doesn't comfort him, or offer feelings of empathy, but just taps him once on the back lightly and sighs.

 

“We've all got to do things we don't want to do sometimes, in order to make people happy. It's harsh but true. You're doing the right thing, D.O.”

 

Kyungsoo nods and hums in agreement. He reaches for the bottle of soju, but Kai's hands are still clasped tightly round it, and so Kyungsoo holds back.

 

“ happens, D.O, and you wish you could do things differently, but you can't. Bad things happen to good people, it's just the way the world works.”

 

Kyungsoo gets the feeling they're not talking about singing anymore. He nods in agreement and mutters something which may have been “I hear you,” but he doubts Kai's listening anyway. He has a glazed look in his eye and appears to be entranced.

 

“Chanyeol would have loved to hear your song. He always did have a bizarre taste when it came to music.”

 

“Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo can tell from the horrific use of past tense that they are not talking about just anybody, but somebody that's no longer around, somebody special to Kai, and even in his alcohol-ridden state, the notion is uncomfortable.

 

“He was my best friend. He died last week.”

 

“I'm sorry,” is Kyungsoo's default response, and he inwardly kicks himself, because Kai doesn't want pity, he doesn't want Kyungsoo's sympathy, he just needs to let the words out like a waterfall of tragic history, the same way Kyungsoo did moments ago. Kyungsoo decides that for the next few minutes, he's going to sit back and keep his mouth shut and listen.

 

Kai swigs back another gulp of soju, and Kyungsoo notices the level is dropping too low, but doesn't reprimand him.

 

“Park Chanyeol and Byun Baekhyun are my two best friends in the world. When they became soldiers, I swore to myself that if anything happened to them, I would never forgive myself. Because I couldn't be there with them, not matter how much I wished for it. Chanyeol was so happy when he got his place. He'd always wanted to go into the army anyway. I don't think Baekhyun was too happy, but things were okay, because we were sticking together.”

 

“That's who you were visiting, in the barracks,” Kyungsoo blurts, in spite of himself, and Kai frowns, as if he'd forgotten Kyungsoo was there at all, but nods.

 

“I go and visit him as often as I can, but it's difficult. He hasn't been the same since... He's lost the life in his eyes, it's completely vanished. He doesn't cry in front of me but I know him. I know he must be feeling vulnerable right now.”

 

“It's horrible, but it's the truth, that soldiers are going to die, Kai. It's the way things are-”

 

Kai frowns again, still not meeting Kyungsoo's eyes, and shakes his head vigorously, blinking furiously.

 

“No... No- you don't understand. Chanyeol- Chanyeol didn't die how he should have. He was mugged, in an alleyway, by three teenagers who wanted his watch. Of all... Of all the ing ways he could have gone... Why is it that he had to go like this? It's not fair! All he wanted was to fight for our freedom and die trying and this is how it ing ends! He was never even given a chance.”

 

Kai's voice has trailed off into a melancholic whisper, and he clears his throat and gulps back the last of the soju, slamming the bottle back down on the crate so hard it cracks.

 

“That's why I have to hurry up and become a soldier, so that I can protect Baekhyun, because he's lost now, without Chanyeol there and he needs me but I'm too ing young and it's just not fair! And the best I can do is slip on Chanyeol's uniform and smoke his cigarettes and the soju too, it's gone now but that was Chanyeol's too, and it's all that's left and it's all I've got left... do you see?”

 

Kyungsoo doesn't quite know how to answer, and he'd fail to make a sound even if he tried. Kai's eyes are red and swollen and Kyungsoo prays with all his being that Kai doesn't cry because he doesn't know how he can handle it. Kai turns to face him now, eyes boring into Kyungsoo's own, and he smirks, startling against such anguished features.

 

“D.O, lets celebrate!”

 

Kai grasps his wrist tightly, and snatches up the soju bottle to refill Kyungsoo's glass, only to be reminded that it's empty and he growls, tossing it to the floor. It shatters with a deafening crash in the quiet early morning, but Kai is grinning now, holding both their hand's up high, raising their empty glasses triumphantly.

 

“We need to celebrate because life is too short. Because our lives are and the world is falling apart and the sky is falling down and the earth may suddenly split and swallow us up but we're happy and alive and risking our lives for a chest full of smoke and a mouthful of spirits and we're human! We're human, D.O, and we're free! And you'll leave tomorrow and I'll leave some time later and we'll carry on our way knowing that for three nights in July, barely twenty years old, two people could get along as if we weren't on the brink of death at any moment. It's just... It's sad and happy at the same time. It's sappy. It's soppy. It's heart wrenchingly stupid. It's-"

 

"You're drunk," Kyungsoo says, putting an arm around Kai, who is clearly intoxicated beyond coherency. He wipes Kai's face with his sleeve, which is tear streaked and blotchy, and Kai shoves at his arm in irritation, but doesn't let go of it. Fingers find grief shaken fingers, and Kyungsoo squeezes Kai's hand tightly, letting him know that he's there.

 

Kai is looking into his face now, eyes a mixture of emotions that Kyungsoo never thought possible to be felt all at once; anger and shock and grief and happiness and helplessness all blended into one. Tears cling to his eyelashes and he smiles, a weird, wobbly, drunken smile, but still purely meant to convey his gratitude, and he leans close, wrapping his arms around Kyungsoo's middle and resting his head on his shoulder, leaning into the crook of his neck.

 

"Thank you for telling me," Kyungsoo croaks, voice rusty from whispered conversation. Kai's shoulders twitch, as if laughing, and he whispers, breath hot against Kyungsoo's neck, "Thank you for listening."

 

Kyungsoo doesn't know how it happens, but it does, and he's powerless to stop it. Kai turns his head, so that his face is lying against Kyungsoo's neck and he's breathing heavily, mouth hot against Kyungsoo's skin. Lips travel, ghosting against his jawbone before shifting upwards, and Kyungsoo's mind has gone completely blank. Kai is his friend, he knows that now, but Kyungsoo has no idea how to react to lips, out of bounds, playing at the corner of his mouth.

 

He doesn't have to react. Kai seems to know what he's doing, or not; it's the drink, Kyungsoo thinks, nothing personal, nothing real.

 

Lips meet unsure, quivering lips, and Kyungsoo holds his breath, unable to think; the only things that exist are himself, and the warmth pressed up against him that is Kai, and Kyungsoo finds his hands traveling up from his lap over bare skin, warm to the touch, up arms towards Kai's shoulders, where his hands fist the course material of his overalls.

 

Kai lips are salty and harsh with tears and soju. Kyungsoo has vague revelation that this must be what defeat tastes like.

 

Kyungsoo is the first to pull away, because Kai, he knows, is not seeking his heart but simply seeking comfort. He Kai's hair carefully as the younger boy begins to cry again, and time stops as the two sit in a comfortable silence, thanking God that in such a time, two people can be so completely open in such a situation, and unleash their darkest thoughts out untethered to flit away with the breeze.

 

---

Kyungsoo is sad to leave this town. The air is nice, salt tainted by the sea, and Kyungsoo hopes the next town they visit will be near a beach. It's been too long since he felt sand slip between his toes.

 

His attachment to the place, of course, stems from his attachment to Kai. I hope things can work out for him, Kyungsoo thinks, as he helps the staff pack costumes into battered suitcases. I hope the next time we meet the circumstances will be better.

 

He's thinking to the next time he and Kai will meet, but he knows deep down it will probably never happen. Kai will forget these past three days, Kyungsoo thinks, and he has more important things to be thinking about than me. With that, and the added fact that neither of them know each other's real names, it will be impossible for Kai to find him once they leave.

 

The thought makes Kyungsoo feel oddly empty.

 

He takes one last trip to the stage, for the possibility to catch one more glimpse of Kai. He's already started to forget the details. Was Kai's hair black or dark brown? Did he smile with teeth or without? Kyungsoo's already forgotten, and in a few weeks, he guesses, he'll be struggling to remember his face.

 

Kai's not there when he arrives. The crate is still there, and shards of glass across the floor mark the validity of their late night excursions, and yet Kyungsoo still finds himself wondering if it was a dream.

 

He still has so much more to say.

 

He doesn't know what urges him to do it, but Kyungsoo finds himself reaching into his pocket to pull out his notebook and an ink pen. A message is the least he can do. He doesn't want Kai's last memory of him to be forever associated with the words exchanged that night.

 

Hope, Kyungsoo thinks. It's the least I can do.

 

He scribbles down a note, and places it under a tiny rock to keep it in place. Kai will find it, Kyungsoo forces himself to believe. He tries not to think about the many reasons why the message may get lost, or thrown away, but holds onto the thought that Kai will read his final words and hold onto them.

 

Kai, the message reads, 

 

I will keep singing and giving people that last spark of hope. Once this is all over, follow your dreams and become a dancer like you've always wanted and meet me again on the stage instead of at the sidelines. Make Chanyeol and Baekhyun proud of you. There are still so many girls I can set you up with, so come quickly, okay?

 

Kyungsoo hears Krystal calling his name and knows his time has run out. He looks over his words a final time before adding one last note, grinning to himself as he does so.

 

Oh, and thanks for the cigarettes. And the riveting conversation.