Sunday loomed quiet and funereal as it always did in the Kim family residence. Jongin usually tried to make himself scarce before lunch so he didn't have to make pained non-conversation with whichever parent he had the misfortune to cross paths with. Today would be no exception. He'd made plans to meet Kris and Tao for lunch and had hastily dressed in a winter-fortified, white Quiksilver long-sleeved tee, black Abercrombie & Fitch hoodie and faded blue jeans bespattered with spidery blots of white and gray acrylic paint which had refused to wash out. 

When Jongin had first stained the jeans a few months back, Minjung ahjumma had spent minutes nagging him about donning a smock when he painted so he wouldn't ruin all his clothes. He'd quietly nodded his way through her lecture as he'd always done over the years. And at the end, in the same way she'd always done, Minjung ahjumma had patted the back of his head, comfort and caring radiating from her tiny palm, while she said the same things she always said.

"Jongin-ah?" 

"Yes, ahjumma?"

"You know I scold because I worry, right? You know I worry about you?"

"Yes, ahjumma, I know." Jongin stared into the kindly, middle aged face, currently etched in faint lines of concern for him.

"I want you to take better care of yourself, araso?"

"Araso." Jongin had assented with a half smile, and let her grip his palm tightly in between both her palms. He'd always let her do it because it made him feel good. Her palms had engulfed his in childhood but for years now, it was his palm which threatened to engulf hers. 

Shoving the memories aside, he put on a red snapback with the peak turned to the back, grabbed his keys and parka, and left the room. The door whooshed quietly shut behind him and his footsteps made almost no sound as they traversed the cocoa colored deep pile carpet of the wide corridor. He hadn't walked far before he came face-to-face with his mother. Even at home, she always looked perfectly turned out. Today, she wore champagne gold jersey palazzo pants with a matching long sleeved tunic. Jongin guessed that the outfit was supposed to be casual at-home wear, but to him it just looked stylish and expensive - like everything else his mother wore. The make up she wore at home was lighter and more natural than when she had to leave the house, but there was always that layer of camouflage. Jongin couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his mother without her ever present smokescreen of powders, tinted blushes and glimmering eyeshadows. 

He thought really hard and realized the last time he'd seen her bare face was the time his twelve year old self had gotten lost in the mountains and she'd come out to camp to see him. He hadn't thought about it in detail in years but she'd come alone, pale and upset - her eyes dead and rimmed with dark circles. She'd already been waiting in the camp counselor's office for several hours when Jongin had finally returned with the rescue party. She'd called his name once and hugged him tightly for while. She hadn't said a word and neither had he, but it had been the last real hug she'd ever given him. Cold and shivering and still in shock, he'd clung to her, hoping in his half dazed state that perhaps his mother would start treating him differently after that ... that she'd stop being a polite stranger to her own son. But when he'd returned home after camp, the mother waiting for him had been the distant one he'd always lived with. 

"Good morning, Mother." Jongin nodded more or less respectfully, eyes turned to the floor and hoping this encounter would be over swiftly, without any reference to yesterday's drama with Kyungsoo's Umma. He waited the customary four seconds for his mother to return his greeting before his feet started moving towards the stairs.

"Jongin?"

He stopped in mid-stride, confused. This was not their usual pattern of dealing with each other, this was not their way. 

Civilities were observed. 
Greetings were quietly exchanged. 
Members of the family went their separate ways. 

That was the established pattern; his mother was breaking form and Jongin felt more than a little disorientated.

"Yes, Mother?"

"I'm heating up some food for lunch. Would you like some?" Her words were carefully detached - there was no actual mention of eating together. But Jongin could swear faint lines of strain had appeared around . It was almost lunch time, of course, Jongin realized in a daze. That was why Mother was asking him about food. Minjung ahjumma always cooked enough food on Saturdays to last the whole weekend should the Kims choose to eat at home all weekend. She prepared at least four separate dishes to be distributed over three separate meals, and these were always stored in airtight containers or French White Corningware casserole dishes and left on the shelves of their roomy, twin-door refrigerator. Jongin and his parents normally ate at different times, taking their desired portions - which they heated up and ate alone. At least, he assumed they all ate alone. Who knew? Maybe his parents actually ate with each other on Sundays. Jongin wouldn't know because he usually either stayed inside his room all day or he went out and stayed out. Sundays at the Kim Residence up what precious little energy Jongin had for life so it was practically his religion to be away from the house on Sundays.

"Would you like some food?" She asked again as he had been so caught up in his thoughts he'd forgotten she was waiting for an answer.

"I ... No. Thanks, Mother. I'm meeting friends for lunch." He kept his expression as neutral as possible as he looked up at her. She nodded, her lips forming a tight smile. "I'd ah ... better get going." Jongin inclined his head politely and turned to resume his interrupted journey to the staircase.

"Jongin?" Her voice was soft and tentative and very unlike her.

Jongin stopped moving, his eyes closing in dread. He didn't want her to bring up yesterday. He didn't know what to say. "Yes, mother?" He finally asked without turning around.

"I just thought ... never mind. Enjoy your lunch."

Civilities were observed. 
Greetings were quietly exchanged. 
Members of the family went their separate ways.

This was the pattern. This was their way.

***

"Are you gonna finish that?" Tao pointed meaningfully at Jongin's half devastated pile of greasy fries.

"Take it, I'm done." Jongin put his half eaten burger down. His eyes flicked over the uneaten portion of the burger with disinterest before moving to the tall, white paper cup a few inches beyond it. The cranberry pink letters cheerfully spelt out LONG TALL & COOL, and honestly, Coca-Cola sounded a lot more appealing to him now than finishing a greasy burger so he reached for it and took a sip.

"Maybe you should order something other than a Quarter Pounder with Cheese the next time we eat at McDonald's. You don't even seem to like the taste of it, dude." Tao frowned at him thoughtfully before popping a French fry in his mouth. 

"There are 30 burgers on the menu and 15 wraps - that's not even including the chicken and fish menu - and you always order the Quarter Pounder with Cheese or the Big Mac. You've been doing that since high school! Not trying to judge or anything but don't you ever feel like trying any of the other burgers? I mean there are 28 other burgers to choose from. Why limit yourself to just two?" Kris was leaning back in his seat so he could stretch out his disproportionately long limbs in the limited room he had. Tao managed to always somehow fold his limbs elegantly and economically into any given space but Kris was just ... Kris just took up a lot of space. His left shoulder rested on the back of Tao's seat and his arm made at least two points of contact with Tao's side.

"I know I like those burgers for sure." Jongin shrugged. "I don't like change."

"But you only had half of the burger. You don't seem to even like it all that much." Kris gave him a shrewd look.

"No appetite." Jongin watched as tiny crystal beads of condensation rolled slowly down the side of the paper cup.

"Did something happen with the choirboy?" Tao leaned back to find Kris's shoulder in his way, but the other man made no move to shift it to the right. Giving a long suffering sigh, Tao finally reclined against Kris's left shoulder and Jongin caught the grin of pleasure Kris couldn't quite conceal.

"Kyungsoo? Hell no. No, things with him are good."

"Then?" 

"My mother is acting weird."

"Weird how?" Kris asked.

"She asked me if I wanted to eat lunch with her." Jongin explained reluctantly and Tao chuckled.

"She's your mom, isn't that what moms do? They feed you? I mean my parents and I aren't exactly getting along now but my mom still asks me if I'm eating enough and how about I come home for a meal one day." 

"My mother isn't like most moms, Tao. She never has been. We don't really talk or do anything together. We never have."

"That's ... I never knew. You never said." 

"There's nothing to say, I guess. We communicate a bit, I suppose. Routine stuff but nothing personal. My father and I barely speak at all."

"And you're cool with that?" Tao asked before taking a large bite of apple pie.

"I'm not really the chatty sort anyway." Jongin dispersed a hundred tiny globules of water as he dragged his index finger down the paper cup before giving a minute shrug of the shoulders. Tao and Kris knew better than to ask any more questions because Jongin was the quietest and most private of them all - he always had been. So instead, they talked about how an old high school friend of theirs who'd gotten married just two months ago, had just become a dad  ...

***

It was almost 1pm when Kris' Prussian blue Acura revved and moved off in a low, rumbling cloud of noise. Jongin stood restlessly beside his Yamaha, tapping his fingers on the smooth black leather of its saddle. He thought about going home to paint - after all he only had eight more days to complete the piece. But the risk of bumping into either of his parents was too high for his comfort, so he fished his phone out of his back pocket and called Kyungsoo. Being with him always made everything stop.

"Soo?"

"Hey," Kyungsoo's deep, velvet-rich voice washed over Jongin's consciousness and he felt the muscles in his shoulders and back begin to unlock and relax.

"Come out with me?" Jongin tried to keep the plaintive note out of his voice but Kyungsoo caught it anyway.

"Only for a little while. There's a chamber music concert at 3 pm and I already have a ticket for that. It's kind of for this course I'm doing so I can't skip it."

"Can I ... come along?" Jongin asked slowly, almost apprehensively - like he wasn't completely sure he wanted to find out what chamber music was. 

"You'll be bored stiff!" Kyungsoo's laugh was even more low and husky over the phone than it was usually and Jongin couldn't help smiling. He liked that laugh so much.

"I don't want to go home, Soo."

"Is everything okay with your mother? She didn't give you a hard time about it yesterday did she?" It was concern spilling out of the phone receiver now rather than sounds of mirth.

"No ... No, she didn't. I told you she wouldn't. She just asked me if I wanted her to heat up some food for me and it's just not the kind of thing she ever does. But I told her I was going out. I think maybe ... Well, she sounded kinda disappointed."
 
"Maybe she was trying to reach out to you?"

"I don't really want to deal with that right now. Or ever to be honest." Jongin said dismissively and there was a short pause as Kyungsoo weighed his words.

"Okay. So ... You're sure you want to go for that concert?" He seemed to settle for sounding upbeat and Jongin was grateful he'd decided not to ask any more questions - it wasn't as if he had any answers anyway.

"Is it too late to get tickets?"

"Jongin, it's CHAMBER. MUSIC. I'm pretty damned sure they won't be sold out." There was that treacly chuckle warming up Jongin's frigid insides again. 

", you make it sound like I'll be asleep before my even touches the chair." Jongin grumbled, "I can do cultured. I can be cultured. Now what time do I go get you?"

"We should be there by 2.30 latest so we can buy a ticket for you. Can you be here by 2?"

"Can I be there earlier?"

"I'd like that, Jongin. By the way, you'll have to wear business casual at least. Is that ok? They tend to be s about jeans and t-shirts."

"I'll go home and change. Do you want me to use the car or are you okay with the bike?" 

"I ... miss the bike." What Kyungsoo didn't say was that he missed letting his arms sink comfortably into Jongin's body, with his waist and belly so firm beneath his palms. He missed pressing his cheek close to Jongin's back as the biting cold wind whipped across his skin and through his hair. But perhaps most of all, he missed having his nostrils teased by the unique, intoxicating scent of Jongin, Bvlgari Black, and crisp winter air. 

"I'll go home and change, then I'll be right over, ok? But business casual on my bike ... Our clothes might get kinda wrinkled, Soo."

"I don't care. I want the bike." Kyungsoo was adamant.

"Okay, you want the bike! I get it."

"I'll see you soon. Be safe?"

"I will."

It was only after Jongin got off the phone with Kyungsoo that it hit him ... he still had no ing idea what chamber music was. 

"It had better not be like opera music," Jongin muttered under his breath as he stuffed his snapback into the front pocket of his parka and pulled his helmet on. Warily, he Googled 'chamber music'. When the search results appeared, he swore loudly and eloquently for ten seconds. It sounded almost as bad if not worse than opera for 's sake! The things he did for Kyungsoo, Jongin shook his head as he swung his leg over the ivory body of the Yamaha. 

***
"Who was that?" Umma asked as she turned the knob and aggressive blue flames out of the stove burner. Then she made sure the lid was secure on the steamer so the sweet potatoes would cook evenly.

"Jongin."

"Is he okay? Did anything happen with his mother?" 

"He said nothing happened. But Umma, you're being nosey." Kyungsoo raised his eyebrows in mock censure. Naturally, she ignored him completely. 

"Is he okay? Save me the attitude, Soo and just tell me."

"He says he's okay but I think he lies to himself a lot. He's joining me for this afternoon's chamber music concert." 

"Dear God, does that poor boy know what he's getting himself into?"

"Hey! I like chamber music."

"You're a Music major, you don't have a choice. Are you meeting him there?"

"No, he's coming here to get me before 2."

"I'm steaming some goguma now and I want you boys to take some, okay? It's really cold today. Also, take some hot sobacha before you go. Appa and I are taking your Noona and the baby out soon so I won't be in. You make sure Jongin has something hot too before you leave."

"Okay." Kyungsoo nodded. It still astounded him how swiftly Umma had 'adopted' Jongin as one of her own. She'd only known Jongin for just over two days and she usually took some time to warm to people - preferring to observe and form some kind of opinion about someone before accepting them. This was a process that usually took weeks, months even. Kyungsoo just didn't get it.

"My heart just breaks for that boy." Umma said wistfully as she stood by the kitchen sink, staring out the window. 

"Why do you say that?"

"Just things he told me." She said cryptically.

"What things?" Kyungsoo asked in a mixture of curiosity and worry.

"That's between Jongin and me." And just like that, Umma turned the tables on Kyungsoo who was usually the one withholding information.

"Umma! What the hell?!" Kyungsoo protested noisily.

"Eat your noodles." She instructed calmly before leaving the kitchen, yelling for Hyeyoon to get Seungchae ready for their outing.

"She's keeping secrets from me now? What the hell did you say to her, Kim Jongin?" Kyungsoo asked aloud as his metal chopsticks dipped into dark colored broth and smoothly picked out strands of noodles.

***

"Jongin, hi." Kyungsoo's sister opened the door for him, her eyes intelligent and piercing behind the lenses of her horn-rimmed spectacles. Her hair had been gathered up in some kind of messy knot, and strands of it had come loose and framed her clear complexioned face in an aesthetically pleasing way. Sometimes Jongin wished he could just look at a person and register nothing, but his eyes had been trained to pick out all sense impressions without filtering out anything: colors, details and shapes ... everything. Most of the time, he couldn't turn it off and this was one of the reasons he avoided looking at people as much as possible. He didn't need to take on other people's baggage. He especially avoided making eye contact with his parents; he didn't want to see them, any part of them.

"Hi Noona, is Kyungsoo ...?" he smiled politely and hoped she wouldn't notice that he hadn't used her name. Was she Hyewon or Hyeyoon? He just didn't know. He'd never been one for names. He just knew this was the sister who wasn't Baby Seungchae's mom.

"He's in his room. You know where it is." Distractedly, Hyewon threw the words over her shoulder and flopped down on the couch. Then she picked up a huge doorstop of a novel, flipped it open and proceeded to become immediately engrossed, effectively leaving Jongin to his own devices. Relieved that he'd escaped without having to make any small talk at all, Jongin found his own way to the room where he'd spent the night just two days ago. He tried to force himself to walk slowly at first, but in the end he just strode briskly to the door and rapped on it.

"It's not locked!" The words sounded unusually muffled.

Impatiently, Jongin turned the brass knob and walked in to find Kyungsoo in the midst of slipping some kind of navy knit sweater over his head and shoulders. Jongin smiled as he stopped in front of him and linked his arms behind that slender waist. 

"Jongin?" His arms stopped moving in shock, leaving his head still trapped within layers of dark wooly fabric. 

"You look like you need some help." Jongin's huskily voiced words were tinged with amusement as he gripped the coarse edges of the sweater and gently maneuvered it down, revealing inch after agonizing slow inch of Kyungsoo's face. Finally, Jongin rested his long palms on Kyungsoo's shoulders, his gaze softening as his eyes made contact with Kyungsoo's.

"You're so early." Kyungsoo looked up at him - surprise and elation in his eyes as he linked his hands behind Jongin's waist and pulled him close.

"Traffic was light." Jongin said quietly just before he leaned in and tenderly slid his lips over Kyungsoo's. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo's right palm cupped the other boy's nape, anchoring himself as he returned the kiss - their tongues warm and pliant and teasing.

"Hey," Jongin said when they finally stopped to catch a breath. He sighed as he held Kyungsoo in his arms, and just luxuriated in the warm, secure sensation of Kyungsoo in his arms ... and just breathed him in.

"You're hiding them again." Kyungsoo frowned as he pulled at the collar of the pewter colored turtleneck Jongin was wearing so he could expose the angel wing tattoos he had such a penchant for.

"I Googled chamber music and I reckon we'll be the youngest people there. Didn't wanna shock any grandmas or grandpas."

"Are you calling me a grandpa? Are you laughing at my taste in music, Kim Jongin?"

"I would never." Jongin denied but he made no effort at all to disguise the amusement in his voice.

"!" Kyungsoo growled and shoved his shoulder hard.

"That's ... not the first time someone's called me that." Jongin laughed.

"Well, if the shoe fits ..." He rolled his eyes in annoyance and thumped Jongin on the shoulder one more time to drive the point home. The other boy just laughed as Kyungsoo continued to glare at him. Then in a sudden shift of mood, Kyungsoo's fingertips were probing the curves of Jongin's lips and Jongin closed his eyes at his boyfriend's bold touch. "You took away the barbell too." Kyungsoo sounded almost disappointed.

"It's easier to kiss?" Jongin smiled as he caught Kyungsoo's lips with his own. Their breaths mingled as they explored each other's mouths, tongues tangling sweetly together. And for a time, they just stood quietly in the sanctuary of each other's arms and for the first time that day, Jongin's chest didn't feel as if it was weighed down somehow. 

***

"I can barely move." Tiny clouds of wintry breath puffed from Jongin's mouth as he stood in the driveway, waiting for Kyungsoo to lock the front door. 

"It couldn't be helped. Umma would have had my head if I hadn't made you eat the sweet potato and drink the sobacha. She reminded me to feed you no less than six times before she left because apparently I have the attention span of a flea!" 

Jongin listened to Kyungsoo rant about Umma's incessant nagging without saying a word. All he knew was that he liked Umma. He truly thought the world of the woman who had accepted him so unconditionally in spite of the way he looked. Then Kyungsoo was climbing onto the pillion seat and wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. As his boyfriend settled his cheek comfortably against his left shoulder blade, and Jongin's tummy felt warm and sated with home cooked food and home brewed tea, he knew he'd made the right decision coming here.

***

"You can use your iPod, you know. I won't judge you, I promise." Kyungsoo said teasingly as they sat down in their allotted seats. As predicted, there had been anything but a full house for the chamber music concert and there were two to three empty seats on either side of their own. 

"I can do cultured." Jongin insisted stubbornly as he took Kyungsoo's hand securely in his, their interlocked hands lying snugly between their trouser clad thighs. But Kyungsoo swore he saw him cringe a few times though while the musicians were tuning their instruments.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Kyungsoo snorted but he was secretly pleased that Jongin was here with him. The lights dimmed and there was a moment's silence before haunting, melodious strains of violins, violas and cellos filled the auditorium. It was Brahms' tet No. 1 in B Flat Major - one of Kyungsoo's favorite pieces. As he let the music wash over and seep into him, he took a peek at Jongin sitting so quietly beside him. He looked so much like he was listening to a lecture and trying to identify the key themes and ideas that Kyungsoo had to stifle the urge to laugh.

"Jongin, it's music. You don't have to work at it. Just listen. Closing your eyes might help. And I mean it, you can use your iPod. I won't give you any about it. Well not too much anyway," Kyungsoo whispered into Jongin's ear, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm fine." 

In Jongin's defense, he made it all the way through the first piece, but there was a growing languor to his limbs he couldn't quite conceal and a distinct heaviness to his eyelids.

"Are you dying?" Kyungsoo asked mischievously in soft, low tones. Jongin reached over and whispered in his ear in equally soft and low tones, " off, Soo. I'm trying to be cultured." And this time Kyungsoo couldn't stop himself from chuckling and a few people in the row in front of them turned around to shoot them dirty looks. Kyungsoo hastily bowed his head in apology before pinching Jongin's thigh in retaliation. Ouch, Jongin mouthed but he looked more awake at least as they settled down to listen to the second piece.

About five minutes into Schubert's String Quintet in C, D 956, Kyungsoo felt a warm weight slump onto his right shoulder at the same time he felt a loosening of the grip on his hand. He felt the heavy, rhythmic breathing more than he heard it - the music was too loud. Sighing, Kyungsoo's left hand Jongin's hair in the semi-darkness, his heart b over with so much emotion for this broken boy that he feared it would burst ...

A/N 

Hi everyone! First of all, I want to thank all of you for your patience and for not giving up on this story (and me) even though it's taken me so long to update. The delay has been due to a combination of real life, fic exchanges, and other WIPs taking up time. So I give you 4.3k for Ch.12 and I hope it's not too disappointing after the long wait orz. Also, I have zero formal training in music and had to do a lot of research to write the end of this chapter. If anyone sees any mistakes, pls let me know so I can fix the errors! PS. I do like classical music just in case anyone thinks I don't LOL. 

I've also had a recent confidence crisis in my ability to write stories that people want to read and that demotivated me from working on all my WIPs tbh. But when I was feeling especially down, these friends came to my rescue and spent time reassuring me when I really needed it, so I want to dedicate this chapter of Stained Glass to them (these names are listed in the chronological order in which they held my hand, lol):

Suhodork, Nungongju, Thespringmaid, Jojibear, Krishoislove, Horramatta, TeatimeTaemint, Jennsicles, Gdkey, Disquietedly, Hearteulips, ertedfangirl, Layonmyunicorn, Cairistiona, Phaggot