Author's Note 

I kept my promise o w o 

dont mind me if i dont update for a while... just putting a warning out there //otl but good news is... this story is growing on me o w o 

            Junhong hums quietly in response, “so when do I get to listen to you rap?” just as Yongguk moves to slip his sneakers on.

            “Oh, look up Jepp Blackman or Soul Connection” he adds with a quick wink before fleeting past the doorway. 

            Junhong almost bolts for his computer, far quicker than he would otherwise be willing to admit. “Jepp Blackman” he mumbles under his breath, the ring of the name sounding awfully familiar on the tip of his tongue. The teen could only gnaw nervously at his bottom lip as the device began to turn on.  

            Hunching over the piece of technology, he places a hand over his right cheek, right where Yongguk’s hand had been just moments before, feeling the lingering traces of warmth. Junhong swallows a lump that formed in his throat, just noticing how hard his heart thumped against his chest, just realizing how nervous he had been. His heartbeat eventually returns to normal patterns as the churning feeling in the pit of his stomach finally comes to a stop. He lets out a restrained sigh as he his lips nervously; things were getting too complicated for his liking. But at the same time, he didn’t exactly have it in his heart to cut out the other male, nor was he willing to.  

            A loud robotic ring produced by his lap breaks the teen from his temporary state of daze.

            Just where had he heard that name before?

            And Soul Connection? Why did that sound awfully familiar as well?

            Clearing his throat quickly, he calls out to his computer, deciding he had been kept in the dark for far too long. “Search Jepp Blackman, rapper” “Youtube videos” He quickly adds. Voice commands were awfully helpful for blind people. “Read first video title”

            I’m Ballin’- Jepp Blackman and DJ Friz

            A loud robotic voice reads out, mispronouncing quite a few words in English, apparently the usual Korean format couldn’t properly process the syllables. Junhong could feel his ears perk up at the second name in the title. DJ Friz, who, for the lack of a better description was a DJ he had once been familiar with. A few quick tunes pop into the teen’s mind as the video loads.

             As the songs plays and rapidly infiltrates the room with its beat, Junhong listens closely, deciphering, no, dissecting the sound itself.

            Yongguk’s voice, the way the thumping, heavy bass vibrated throughout his empty apartment was like heaven on Earth. Junhong doesn’t think he’s ever heard something more perfect. It was so refreshing to hear something without a clear cut message, so open to interpretation. It was enlightening to listen to something of the sake of pure enjoyment.

            Junhong could only gulp as the beat finishes into silence, he recognizes the voice. Was that why the stranger had captivated his being when they first met?

            The teen distinctively remembers that same voice sending goose bumps down his spine the first time he heard it so odd years ago. The feeling that reverberated throughout his body was almost identical to the feeling he experienced whenever he was around Yongguk.

            At least now he can explain his irregularity around the older male.

            But that didn’t make things any less complicated. If anything, it made the whole situation worse than it already was.

            Was it even possible to fall for someone solely because of someone’s voice? Or was that too superficial a way of judging?

            Setting aside morality and other predetermined standards, Junhong would say that it was absolutely possible to fall for someone for their voice. And he was certain that he had fallen for the elder’s voice the second he heard it, some odd years ago, when rapping in a band was still a reachable, even probable dream.

            But of course, society doesn’t make things that simple.

            Junhong still had no clue what Yongguk looked like. He doesn’t know his background; he doesn’t why he wants to be a rapper. He knows nothing about the older male. And while his heart embraces the fact that he had fallen, head over heels, for the older with that impossibly perfect voice. His mind, his logic, his reason, would have none of that. So instead, Junhong finds himself focusing on the music, the voice itself, treating it as a separate entity from Yongguk. And since the teen had no physical, more importantly, no visual way of linking the two entities, his mind could keep them separated.

            That way, he could fall for the voice all he wants to.  

            And he does, to a great extent, abusing the functions of the internet and Youtube. To be perfectly honest, he doesn’t even remember how many times he abused the replay button. He spends hours on end searching through the older male’s seemingly endless archive. He reads up, or rather listens up on Yongguk’s history, from his days as an underground MC, rapper in a project entitled Soul Connection and finally, him leaving the underground in pursuit of something more.

            Through his research, Junhong learns where he had first heard the low grumble of the voice that belongs to Yongguk. Not remembering exactly what part of his teenager years he had first stumbled across the Soul Connection project, home to what he still, to this day, believes to be the best collection of South Korean rappers and MCs ever assembled. To be honest, Junhong felt a pang of jealousy as he learns of Yongguk’s role in the project.

            Having worked alongside with whom he considers to be geniuses and fathers of South Korean rap, Junhong could only sigh as unwanted realizations dawned upon him. From his perspective, Yongguk had already achieved his dream to be heard. Hell, in his opinion, the underground audience was a a lot better than the screaming girls of Kpop fandoms.

            The elder’s audience was the underground and it was his stage. Yongguk was just too blind to see that himself. “Maybe he just wants a larger audience…. And not be completely broke.”  It comes out broken, quiet, representative of just how unconvinced Junhong was.

But this was two years later. Two solid years of nothing but self reflection later, Junhong has come to develop his own opinions. Music was music. A stage was a stage. A songwriter was a poet. The only thing differing at the end was the ultimate payout.

            Honestly, he couldn’t blame the older male because he had once shared that same dream. The industry was beyond alluring. He’d a huge hypocrite if his judgment of the older male changes because of this newfound knowledge. But he couldn’t drive  away the latent desire to grab the older male by the shoulders and shake some sense into his being. Because he knows better than anyone else what the idol churning factory was really about.

             Junhong couldn’t help but to be slightly disappointed in the elder’s fixation on popularity and all the perks that came along with being a k-idol. He tries his best to shake away the negative thoughts, and to some extent he succeeds, affectively convincing himself on the notion that it was Yongguk’s dream, and he should respect that.

            Some people dream of being performers while others dream of being idols. He guesses that Yongguk belonged in the second group. So Junhong makes a quick mental note not to ever reveal his true feelings about the k-pop industry to the older man. He etches it in his mind not to hinder the man in striding for his dreams. Because dreams vary with each individual and dreams should be pursued until they become reality.

            Junhong chuckles lightly, “Yongguk was right, I am awfully optimistic, especially for a blind person.” Scratching at his bleached locks lightly, he rubs his eyelids in annoyance. His dream was just slightly outside of the realm of possibility, and reality for that matter. But that didn’t mean he would even dream of giving up.

            As long as his heart beats and as long as he can still breathe, he’ll dream.

            But when do dreams become signs of foolishness?

            Almost as quickly as the thought had popped in his mind, Junhong types the phrase onto an empty word document. And not much later, he continues tapping away at the brailed keys, as if he were possessed by something.

            The truth was that he was possessed by something.

That something just so happened to be inspiration.

            The teen had decided long ago that inspiration was the soul’s nutrition. It, quite literally, feeds dreams. And Junhong concludes that his can continue dreaming because he is almost always writing, because he’s almost always possessed by some tangent of inspiration, quite literally, forcing him to write. That inspiration seems to multiply as he slowly lost his vision. It seemed like the more unlikely his work was ever to be heard, the more brave he got, the bold his message became and of course, the sheer quality increased by the tenfold as writing lyrics became his only way of expression.

            Now that Yongguk had stumble into his life, yet another outlet was added into his life. A blessing that the voices in his head finally calmed down whenever Yongguk was around, but that same blessing quickly turns into a curse as soon as Yongguk leaves the premises. His current trance was a paradigm of that phenomenon. When Yongguk is present, the voices calm down, but when he isn’t, the voices come back a hell of a lot stronger, literally, pestering his fingers to type his feelings down on the computer. Because Yongguk’s presence added yet another source of inspiration, he was a being that brought not only solace but also the unwelcomed guests, a slew of unanswerable questions.

            Hope filling the body and soul, linking us through the heart

            We’re one with the dreams we dream

            We’re one with the leaps we take, yea

            One and inseparable, one and the same,

            Striving for that happily ever after

            Despite whatever the chances are

            Dreamers will always be dreamers

            Gotta hold your head up high, never ever lose that sight

            Conquer the chances presented

            Passion in the heart, gotta represent

            Dreams are like elements of the periodic table that can’t be broken down by natural processes.

            ‘cause it’s

            One for the day dreamers

            Two for the dream chasers

            Three for the dream catchers

            He was the day dreamer, and Yongguk the dream chaser

            ‘cause it’s

            One for the day dreamers

            Two for the dream chasers

            Three for the dream catchers

            They were linked by a never fleeting dream.

            When the going gets rough

            When the chase gets too much

            When the catcher misses by a sliver

            You just gotta remember

            What dreams are really made of

            They were linked by passions in the heart.

            You just gotta remember,

            What dreamers are really made of

            Dreamers are vases strong enough to be trusted with the scared entities known as dreams, strong enough withstand physical and emotion beatings. They are strong enough to withstand anything thrown at them for the sole purpose of protecting the dream that lies within them.

            You’ve kicked down, step on

            You’ve beat down, spit on

            Because dreamers are enemies of society

            They’ve told a billion lies; made you question your worth

            But they can’t break that inner spirit, replenishing your health

            So find your ground, one, two, easy as, get back on your own

            Rely on you, yourself and nothing else, but know that you aren’t alone  

            A collection of dreamers, alongside ya, with a dream flourishing in each

            Knowing any passion in the heart is never too far, never too much

            Because society fears nothing more than unrestricting hopes.

            Because anything unrestricted causes chaos and the loss of control.

            And that goes against the very concepts, the very foundations of society.

            A dream is the hope in hopelessness

            Dreamers are lights in a time of darkness

            Never forget your role or your heart, one two, yeah,

            Never forget your role or your heart

            ‘cause it’s

            One for the day dreamers

            Two for the dream chasers

            Three for the dream catchers

            And four for the happily ever afters

            When the onslaught of words finally halted, Junhong is silent.

            Reclining on the cushiony sofa, he lets out a restrained sigh before running a quick hand through his blonde locks. “Time”

            8:35 PM

            The robotic voice, ringing through his empty apartment sent shivers down his spine. He absolutely hated being alone now that Yongguk was always around.

            Yongguk had been gone for more than just a few hours, but considering it was the k-pop industry, he wasn’t necessarily surprised. Auditions were like that, hours of waiting for two minutes of crappy performance time. He wouldn’t be surprised if Yongguk doesn’t come back today at all.

            Finding the space far too silent for his liking, the teen slowly turns on his MP3 player stationed where a TV would otherwise be found.  Junhong mentally notes that the only time the poor piece of overworked technology was ever given a break was when he was possessed by some tangent of inspiration. Apparently, Junhong could not work under the presence of another source of music. It made sense to say the least; the beat of the song playing the background would no doubt mess with the rhythm of his lyrics. It made sense, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He hated silence, especially the silence that becomes overwhelming when the voices come to a halt. Fetching himself a few quick snacks, he returns to the sofa, subconsciously waiting for Yongguk’s return.

            Yongguk glances at his watch, then at the rising floor number of his elevator. 12:30 PM  “What am I even doing here?” he groans before running a head through slicken locks. TS had him stay behind, fixing the appearance of his hair, hell, they even put makeup on his face to take a few test shots.

            It was a pretty good first audition if you asked him.

            But you never know.

            Groaning rather loudly, he roughly rubs his palms against his made up features. Nothing annoyed him more than eyeliner, actual the whole makeup process annoyed him. And hell, did the company go all out today.

            Ding

            The elevator makes a characteristic sound as it comes to a stop on level 4.

            “He’s probably sleeping…” He mumbles almost solemnly as his feet automatically take him to 4D, his sanctuary for the past months. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he fishes out the keys from his back pocket. Groaning as his tired eyes suddenly felt impossibly heavy. As stealthily as he could manage, he creaks the door open. A dimly light living room and a soft humming sound greet his fatigued body. “Junhongah?” he calls out quietly as he quickly kicked his shoes off.

            As quietly as he can manage, he makes his way to the sofa. Junhong was there. Eyes closed, body curled up in a ball, cheek presses against the material of the couch. Yongguk finds himself smiling gently at the teen before him. He quickly shuts off the barely audible MP3 player and bends down to get a better look at Junhong’s sleeping visage.

            As gently as possible, the pushes the teen’s blonde fringe from his forehead and places a quick kiss on the newly exposed skin. He whispers a ‘thank you’ against the alabaster skin. Judging by the open cracker packets and half drunken tea on the coffee table, Junhong must’ve had been waiting for a long while. Just the thought of it sends shivers of guilt down the older male’s spine. “I’m sorry…” He whispers almost inaudibly.

            He then quickly snakes an arm under the sleeping form’s back and another beneath his legs, judging that  a night of the sofa would no doubt yield muscle sores in the morning. So Yongguk decides to move the boy to a more comfortable canvas.  Effortlessly, too effortlessly, he picks up Junhong, bridal style. The weight of the tall form in his arms worried Yongguk to say the least. And here, he had thought that he was taking good care of the boy. But Junhong was too light, far too light for someone his height. He gnaws at his protruding bottom lip as they walk to Junhong’s bedroom.

            He quickly looks down to make sure the boy was still asleep and immediately regretted doing so. Junhong’s visage was pressed snug against his chest and his pale hands fisted the fabric of his shirt. Yongguk had been too entranced by the boy’s weight to notice the shift in his position. The older male could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks as he swallows a nervous lump in his throat.

            It had to be illegal to be that cute right?

            Right?

            But yet again, Junhong was a ing angel for God’s sake.

            “Junhongah~” he coos as he approached the bed. To be completely honest, waking the boy up would literally break his heart. And judging by Junhong’s positioning, there was no way Yongguk was leaving the boy tonight without waking him up.

            Weighing the options in his mind, Yongguk could feel himself getting pulled into the boy’s warmth and quiet heartbeat. He smiles gently before feeling his knees hit the frame of the teen’s bed.

            Last chance

            His rationality was screaming at his body at this point.

            In the two months he hadn’t slept over at Junhong’s place, let alone share a bed with the boy.

            All around there were red flashing signals, telling Yongguk to get out before he’d do something he would regret.

            But his body and heart would have none of that.

Because well, who was a normal human to deny an angel his beauty sleep.

            Suppressing a scoff steaming from his former self, he pushes aside all the warning signals of his rationality and half setting the boy down on his bed with an arm still protectively gripping Junhong’s shoulder and back, he leans the both of them down on the soft mattress. Junhong’s hands never let go of the fabric of the older male’s shirt, instead, the sleeping boy only snuggles closer to the source of warmth.

            Yongguk sneaks a quick, last glance at Junhong’s peaceful visage.

            He swears there had been fireworks going off in his heart.

            It was beyond adorable, beyond the descriptive ability of any adjective in any human language.

            The way the teen’s incredibly soft locks tickled his neck. The way the boy’s heart thumped against his own ribcage. The way Junhong’s bottom lip jutted out slightly, forming a perpetual pout. The way the teen’s exhales splashed against the fabric of his heart and through to brush against his chest. And finally, the sheer peacefulness expressed on his visage was, for the lack of a better description, breath taking.

            And Yongguk was sure as hell glad that it was the last image on his mind as his heavy eyelids finally closed and his breathe steadied.

Author's note      

as always, the italicized my mai own lyrics 

and blah

thanks for commenting guys, they really keep me going ;) 

//cries cuz i got many nice comments on the last chapp <3 <3