Jongin wanted more than anything to ask Kyungsoo why he was singing his favorite song instead of Sara Bareilles. He practically craved the answer, but at the same time, he didn't want the mellow, heartfelt vocals to stop; so he reined in his curiosity and just let Kyungsoo's rich, dark voice hover and float and curl itself around him like a well-loved eider down quilt. Jongin watched as a range of emotions twisted and Kyungsoo's face, as he reacted to the words he was singing – his eyes locked on Jongin's almost exclusively.

The melody of the Incubus song was still distinctly there, but Kyungsoo had given the song a sort of indie rock vibe with his smoother voice and slower pacing. It sounded almost like a ballad, the way he was singing it and Jongin was no fan of ballads but ... Kyungsoo's voice had moved him right from the start. Jongin had never believed in the whole falling in love at first sight thing. Hell, he didn’t even have time for the falling in love thing. like that just burned up your time and your emotions and he had never wanted any of it.

But that first time he'd heard Kyungsoo sing in the stained glass room, that angelic voice had called to him, had breathed life into a part of his soul he thought had been lost forever. And after that it was just a matter of time before Kyungsoo had woken up all kinds of things in Jongin. Sometimes he resented it because feelings could be ing inconvenient. Sure, he sometimes missed not caring what anyone thought of him, and he wasn’t always happy about caring for others. But one thing Jongin never regretted was finding Kyungsoo. Or maybe it was the other way around, and it was Kyungsoo who had found him.

  I wish you were here

Unbidden, an image of his mother's beautiful, disappointed smile haunted him - her wistful smile as he'd basically told her he didn't want to see her before they left the building. Guilt tugged at his heart and something else, something that felt almost like ... yearning.

  I wish you were here

The words echoed in the stained glass rotunda, as the song ended. Jongin couldn’t bring himself to say anything; he didn’t want to break the spell. But after a few seconds of silence, Kyungsoo opened his eyes and stared at Jongin, the slightest touch of anxiety in his eyes.

"Did you like it?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Jongin complained as he straightened his lanky frame before walking slowly over to where Kyungsoo stood.

"Well, it's not a rock song, the way I did it. You might be outraged. Up in arms!"

"I don’t feel strongly enough about anything to get outraged, Soo,”

“You don’t feel strongly about anything, Jongin? Nothing at all?” Kyungsoo’s voice was laced with sarcasm.

“You’re not a thing!” Jongin chuckled. “Okay, fine, I feel strongly about you.” He reached out and stole a kiss, his lips brushing the corner of Kyungsoo’s mouth with a promise. “How do you know the words to that song, Soo? You told me you don't listen to rock songs so how are you even singing Incubus? Did you suddenly discover you like rock music? Is your playlist full of Incubus and Linkin Park now?" He Kyungsoo's cheek, a wry grin on his face.

"I still don't listen to rock songs, Jongin. And I still don't like rock music. It mostly makes my ears hurt." Kyungsoo's nose wrinkled in mild distaste. "But this is your favorite song and I wanted to sing it for you, so I've been learning it for weeks. Just practicing, y'know? Lucky for me it's a song I actually like."

"But you've got the concert to rehearse for, why are you learning a completely new song? When I work on a major piece, I don't do anything more than simple sketches or doodles. I wouldn't start working on another painting. Too distracting." There was an indecipherable expression on Jongin's face.

"Are you trying to make me confess? You already know I love you."

Jongin didn't say anything at that, only folding Kyungsoo in his arms.

"I was going to surprise you with this after the concert - after I had time to get it just right but somehow today seemed like the right time. Sorry it's still a little rough around the edges. I thought I'd have a few more days to rehearse so, yeah."

"But you only have three more days, Soo." Jongin shook his head, sighing.

"I'll rehearse Gravity after this, I promise. I just ... wanted to do something for you."

"It was everything," Jongin said quietly, angling his head and brushing his lips over Kyungsoo's. Jongin's tongue teased its way into his mouth, slow and gentle, his hand warm and secure behind Kyungsoo's waist as he pulled him closer. When Kyungsoo's tongue traced the edges of his upper lip and played with his piercing, Jongin made a soft sound of pleasure before kissing him back.

"We should stop. You need to rehearse," Jongin tried to sound calm when his heart was beating like a bass drum.

"I don't want to," Kyungsoo groaned as his lips moved over Jongin's neck, "I don't want to."

"Yes, you do." His hands cupped Kyungsoo's cheeks, stained a dusky pink from the kisses they'd exchanged. Kyungsoo made disgruntled noises at being foiled, but eventually resumed rehearsing in the serenity of the stained glass rotunda. He sang for as long as fingers of sunshine continued to stream into the room, casting pretty, jewel hued pools of light on the floor.

“Come on, Soo, the sun’s about to go down,” Jongin took his hand in his and brought him to the wall of glass that was a stunning vista to the outside world. On the cusp of nightfall, Jongin and Kyungsoo placed their outspread palms to the glass, and looked out. They watched as the city darkened and transformed into a blazing ocean of neon and fluorescent light. Sighing softly, Jongin looped his arms around Kyungsoo's waist, chin resting on one narrow shoulder as they watched day pass into night, the sky bleeding in coral pinks and deep purple before fading to a twinkling onyx.

•••-----•••

The lift doors shut behind them with a quiet whoosh and Kyungsoo's finger automatically reached for the button marked B, for the basement carpark where Jongin's motorbike was parked. But before he could even touch it, Jongin's index finger had already depressed the number 15. His mother's office was on that floor. Jongin's mother.

"I just want to say thanks. That's all, Soo. Don't go making a big deal out of nothing." Jongin tried to sound offhand as he answered the question that hovered, unsaid, on Kyungsoo’s lips. Kyungsoo could tell, though, that Jongin wasn't nearly as indifferent as he made himself out to be.

"I’m not!" Kyungsoo protested while Jongin eyed him sceptically.

Then, before they knew it, the lift doors were opening and they were making the brief, nerve wracking journey to Jang Soora's door. Her chirpy secretary was long gone - it was after 6 now and while the office was still flooded with warm fluorescent lighting, the floor was deserted.

"I should ... probably call her. So I don't scare her knocking on her door after office hours." Jongin was saying it to no one in particular but Kyungsoo gave his hand a supportive squeeze. Jongin's hands were so cold; it worried him.  A quick conversation on the phone and then the oak door was swinging open.

"Jongin! Kyungsoo. I ..." she seemed almost overwhelmed by their sudden appearance and a little at a loss for words. She finally settled for saying she hoped they’d enjoyed the view in the rotunda.

"We did. It was amazing," Kyungsoo smiled at her gratefully.

"Thank you, Mother. For letting us use the room," Jongin said quietly, his eyes not quite meeting hers.

"Anytime you want to use it, anytime you need it again - you're always welcome. Both of you."

"Ah, it's bad enough we disturbed you today, to be honest," Jongin shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Please? I'd like you to make use of the room anytime you feel like it." Her hand grabbed Jongin's instinctively.

"I-” Jongin pulled the edges of his black beanie lower in a self-conscious gesture, “I'll think about it."

"I'm glad. Would you boys like to have dinner? I know it's a little early still but there's a nice bistro across the road. We could have an early dinner together." There was something like hope in her eyes and Kyungsoo prayed Jongin wouldn't brush her off.

"I've gotta get Kyungsoo home soon but maybe another time?"

"I'd like that." Jang Soora still hadn't released Jongin's hand and to Kyungsoo's relief, Jongin allowed her to hold on to it.

"Thanks again, Mother. For everything.”

“You’re welcome … you’re welcome here anytime, Jongin. I hope you know,” she sounded composed even if her eyes told other stories.

•••-----•••

“It’s not what I’m used to,” Jongin admitted as he took a bite out of his overloaded BLT.

“She could be reaching out. It’s possible,” Tao said as he wiped crumbs and ketchup spills off the table next to Jongin’s. It was past three in the afternoon and things were quiet in Angelus Café, so Tao could stop by to chat briefly in between wiping down tables and serving food and drink.

“I just don’t understand why she’s doing it. Like this is all more than ten years too late.”

“Forget all that history – why do you wanna cling to the bad ? You gotta be like me and just keep moving. I mean I’m talking to my mom now and I wasn’t sure I ever would again when I left home. They were beyond pissed that I wouldn’t be delivering them their much anticipated 3.2 grandchildren. Things are still ing awkward between us, but at least we’re trying. And I think that one day, we might actually even be ok?

“I hope you get your wish, Tao.”

“I hope you get your mom back too.”

“Who says I want my mom?” Jongin frowned, not even bothering to correct Tao that she was Mother to him, never mom.

“Everyone wants their mom, Jongin. At some point, everyone does. Okay, I gotta get back to work. See you tomorrow, dude.”

Jongin watched as Tao swiftly navigated the tables to greet a party of six customers. He knew the group of chattering, giggling girls would keep Tao busy for a while and knew that was the end of the conversation with his friend.  As Jongin ate the rest of his BLT, he mulled over Tao's words ... Everyone wants their mom. At some point, everyone wants their mom.

Did he want his mom? He didn't even know. But then he remembered how her hand had looked, holding on to his the day before. It had been so tiny and soft and warm, and he thought, maybe he did know.

•••-----•••

“Jongin, have some more jjigae.” Umma ladled some fiery kimchi stew into Jongin’s soup bowl.

“Umma, you’re going to literally feed him to death. You know he can’t say no to you and he’s already eaten enough to kill a cow,” Kyungsoo complained, ignoring the restraining palm Jongin had placed on his thigh as if to say drop it, just let it go.

“What do you know about cows?” Umma gave her son a look of withering disdain before turning to ask his boyfriend affectionately, “Would you like some more rice, Jongin?”

“No … thank you, Umma. I’m fine. I’ll just have the jjigae.”

“Umma, stop with the eating!”

“FINE.”

“Wow, kids! Let’s just play nice and let the guest finish his jjigae in peace.” Hyewon’s voice carried across the table, calm and commanding. A lawyer’s voice, Jongin thought as the sour, spicy goodness of kimchi sizzled and settled on his tongue. In silence, he brought the spoon to his mouth again and again; he’d never liked being the center of attention.

“Do Hyewon, did you just call me a kid?”

“In my defence, I was trying to distract you? So I reckon you can just let me off with a mild reprimand this time. There’s no need for maiming. Soo’s got a concert tomorrow so he doesn’t need to be getting into a brawl with his mother the night before. And Soo, calm down for God’s sake. I’m sure Jongin’s capable of saying no without any help from you.”

“It’s not about whether he’s cap-" Kyungsoo began before his sister cut him off.

“Shush! Quiet. Let the poor guy eat.” Hyewon hissed.

“I’m not trying to feed him to d-" Umma barely got eight words out before she, too, was silenced by her formidable, younger daughter.

“Umma, our guest is trying to swallow his jjigae. Please, I beg you, let him digest his food in peace. You and Kyungsoo both need to take a step back. Like way back,” Hyewon held her hand up as if to say STOP.

“FINE.” Kyungsoo and Umma agreed grudgingly and Jongin gratefully swallowed another mouthful while Kyungsoo’s father reached for some spinach banchan with a long suffering sigh.

•••-----•••

“Here, take Baby for a bit will you? He always squirms when Soo takes him – I think he can tell his uncle is nervous around babies. Hyeyoon should be down soon but I need to start getting ready for a coffee date with this cute guy from my Jurisprudence class,” Hyewon said as she held up a wriggling Seungchae. Two small arms reached out for Jongin and he grinned as he took the baby and held him close to his chest.

He had so much trouble with people sometimes but babies didn’t care if you were good at talking or being nice. Babies didn’t care if you weren’t perfect, Jongin thought as he nuzzled Seungchae’s little fist and breathed in that comforting, sweet talc and lotion-laced scent all babies seemed to have. Kyungsoo didn’t care that he wasn’t perfect either, Jongin smiled at that random thought.

Seungchae gurgled with delight as Jongin dandled him affectionately, his tiny fingers poking at the tattoos on Jongin’s neck. He was openly fascinated with them – probably because everyone else in the family had pale, untouched necks. Jongin had been so tempted to wear a turtleneck here tonight but in the end he’d gone for a crew neck sweater and a ribbed knit hoodie to wear under his faux fur-lined hooded parka. His immediate instinct was to hide all his tattoos from sight but Umma had made it very clear that she didn’t want him to conceal them from her. They were part of who he was, she’d told him the previous Saturday, and she didn’t want him feeling like he had to hide any part of himself under her roof.

So Jongin had eventually shown up at Kyungsoo’s doorstep without a turtleneck. At the end of the day, he was here for Kyungsoo and he was stressed out enough about the next day's performance without having to get upset over Jongin covering up his tattoos. To his relief, no one had gasped or given him judging looks. Hyewon and Umma already knew of them of course, but Hyeyoon and Kyungsoo's father had been very calm and accepting too. It was a quiet reaction from the Do Family but it had been nothing like his parents' non reaction all those years ago, when Jongin had come home with a neck all inflamed and puffy and stained with angry black ink. Nothing like it at all.

He could feel the wrinkles forming in soft ripples across his forehead as his mind settles on his mother. Things had been a lot less complicated and confusing when she was just that distant person who disbursed his weekly allowance and gave him awkward hellos as they passed each other in the hallway. He could cope with things better when he knew what to expect. He didn’t know what was happening with his mother other than that she seemed to be reaching out to him or something. He just couldn’t figure out why and why now?

"How did you end up literally holding the baby? Again!" Kyungsoo looked amused as he appeared beside Jongin, hands still damp and pink from doing the dishes.

"Hyewon noona said she was passing him to me because he squirms a lot when you carry him,"

"He does get a little restless," Kyungsoo admitted a little sheepishly and Jongin ducked to hide his grin. "You're not allowed to laugh at me, you ! Babies just wriggle a lot and I'm

always worried he'll slip and fall on his head. And I'll never hear the end of it from Umma for the next two lifetimes."

"That's a little ... you worry too much."

"Is Hyeyoon noona going to be much longer because I'm ready to hide out in my room." Kyungsoo looked anxious all of a sudden and Jongin had a feeling it was the upcoming performance that was to blame.

"Thank you, Jongin, I'll take him now. You boys can go do your thing now." Umma appeared beside him and held her arms out. Seungchae happily allowed himself to be handed over and Jongin's arms felt a little empty all of a sudden as the warm, sweet smelling package was relieved from him.

“Thanks, Umma!” Kyungsoo bussed her cheek before grabbing Jongin by the hand.

“Bye, Umma,” Jongin managed to smile shyly at her as Kyungsoo dragged him towards the staircase.

•••-----•••

"Jongin?" Kyungsoo was pensive as he the silver wings that dangled from the chain he wore around his neck.

"Hmm ...?" Jongin looked up from his sketch pad.

"I'm still not okay about tomorrow."

"You'll be okay, Soo." Jongin placed his pencil and pad carefully on the bedside table before lying on his side, watching Kyungsoo with slightly worried eyes. Jongin wasn't given to extreme displays of emotion so Kyungsoo wasn't worried.

"I puked first thing in the morning when I realized the concert is tomorrow and it's really happening and I'm out of time. What if my mind goes blank and I can't remember the words? Or I remember the words but my mouth won't open? Or I remember the lyrics and I can sing but I go off key?" His voice was calm but his fingers fidgeted with the silver wings agitatedly.

"Well, I'm not gonna lie, one or all of those things could happen but I think ... I think none of them will because you know this song inside out and you're too much of a perfectionist to screw this up."

"That's ... not the most encouraging thing you could have said, Jongin." Kyungsoo glared at him, punching his shoulder, "Aren't you supposed to say motivating like you believe in me and I have the voice of an angel bla bla bla?"

"But Soo, you already know I think you sing like an angel."

"You can say it more than once!" Kyungsoo grumbled and Jongin chuckled, pulling him closer and catching his lips in a lazy kiss.

"You have the voice of an angel, Do Kyungsoo." His voice was teasing but Kyungsoo saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "They'll love you, I promise. And you'll be great, I know you will. And don't forget I'm there with you, okay?" Jongin's finger trailed over Kyungsoo's left collarbone before holding the silver angel wings in between his fingertips.

"I need you closer than that." Kyungsoo's nose nuzzled Jongin's neck.

"They won't allow me on the stage."

"I want you to draw something on my skin."

"What?"

"I want traces of you on my skin, Jongin. Will you draw angel wings on the inside of my wrist? Just like the ones you have on your neck? You told me you designed the tattoo yourself all those years ago, right?"

"Yeah, I did. But I ... I've never drawn on skin before." Jongin looked stunned.

"Please, Jongin? It'll distract me. When I feel like puking I can just peek at my wrist. I can't see the pendant because it'll be tucked away and it'll be weird if I keep touching my chest while I'm singing. Please?"

"You know I can't say no to you but ... skin is a really unpredictable canvas - bumpy with veins and the ink may smear and bleed," Jongin shook his head, features infused with doubt, "It may not look good, Soo, I really don't know."

"I want you to do it anyway." Kyungsoo said stubbornly.

"I've never tattooed anyone with my art pen before?" Jongin rubbed the patch of skin behind his right ear with his index finger.

"I'm stressed out enough, Jongin. Don't give me a hard time." Kyungsoo grimaced.

"Which wrist do you want it on?" Jongin finally sighed and reached for his backpack, which always contained a basic set of art supplies so that Jongin could stop and sketch whenever he saw any visual trigger that called to him - anything he saw which he absolutely had to depict in charcoal or ink on the heavy, vanilla colored sheets of the drawing pad he always had with him.

"Wait! You need to use a Sharpie. I don't know if one of your fancy art pens will work."

"A ... Sharpie?!" Jongin looked almost offended.

"I Googled it okay? Everyone says you need a Sharpie and I don't want to risk using anything else."

"But Soo-"

"Here, I got this black Sharpie just for tonight," he pushed the gray, black-lidded pen into Jongin's palm and laced their fingers together. "Can you get over your arty farty pen snobbery and Sharpie that tattoo for me?"

"This is going to cause me years of psychological trauma," Jongin gave a mock scowl just before he leaned over to kiss Kyungsoo, his lips sliding warmly over his boyfriend's.

"I never knew you were such a drama king, Kim Jongin. But fine, I'll pay for the therapy bills." Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and Jongin's deep laugh vibrated against his neck.

"All right, I'll use the damn Sharpie! Will you even be able to see the tattoo? Won't you be wearing long sleeves?"

"If you draw it so the tip of the angel wings reaches my palm, it will be enough to keep me going," Kyungsoo explained, his long, thin fingers caressing the back of Jongin's hand.

The ink felt cold and wet on Kyungsoo's skin and he heard Jongin's voice telling him that tattooists usually drew the design on paper before transferring the wet drawing onto the skin.  Then they clean up the lines on the skin with the pen before the tattoo gun traces the lines, puncturing the skin and implanting the ink.

Kyungsoo's senses were suddenly drenched in Jongin's rich, rum voice telling him of stories in skin, even as his pen drew angel winged tales into the ivory canvas of Kyungsoo's wrist. His mind whisked back to the time Jongin had told him, a month ago, about what it had been like to get tattoos inked into his skin.

"You know it's going to wash right off when you shower right? This ink is only indelible on paper, not skin. It'll bleed and run off with the water."

"It won't come off."

"You mean you're not going to shower?!" Jongin , his fingers tucking a few stray strands of hair behind Kyungsoo's ear.

"Of course, I'm going to shower! That's what Seungchae's talc and Umma's hairspray are for. They'll keep this tattoo where it belongs for the next month. I told you I Googled it, Jongin."

"You're such a geek, Soo. And I can't believe you cribbed your baby nephew's talc and your mom's hairspray!" Jongin's husky laugh filled the room.

"I ... can't deny I'm a geek but I'm just borrowing their okay? Just BORROWING!"

"What if I'd said no? What if I hadn't agreed to draw your tattoo?" Jongin teased.

"But you never say no to me." Kyungsoo reasoned confidently. "Now, help me to sprinkle talc on it and spray it so it'll stay."

•••-----•••

Jongin’s phone lay in the grip of his ink-stained fingers as he typed a message to Mother – to tell her he wouldn't be returning to the house that night.

Mother, I’ll be staying over at Kyungsoo’s.

  Okay. Will I see you tomorrow?

Jongin hesitated before replying, yes. He only had to wait a few seconds for her reply to come in.

  Goodnight, Jongin. See you tomorrow.

Jongin knew he was reading too much into nothing, but he felt like she was disappointed. A tiny part of him wanted to ask her if she was but years of habit made Jongin bury the urge. So in the end, all he did was text her a bare-bones Goodnight, Mother

Kyungsoo snuggled up and laid his head on his shoulder and read the text messages on Jongin's phone screen. He was relieved, ecstatic even, that they were far more personal messages than the one she’d sent him the first time Jongin had stayed over at the Do family home.

“You okay?” Kyungsoo asked contemplatively as he rested his chin on Jongin’s chest.

“Of course, I am. It’s you I’m worried about.” Jongin’s thumb travelled over Kyungsoo’s cheek in soothing .

“I’m … surprisingly calm. Maybe these wings are giving me courage,” Kyungsoo examined his new ‘tattoos’ with pride.

“I just hope Umma doesn’t kill me for this,” Jongin muttered warily.

“I’d like to see her try,” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and they laughed. For the next twenty minutes, they chatted in the dark, eyelids growing steadily heavier and words more faint till Jongin’s breathing hit a deep, regular pattern and his cheek pressed more heavily against the top of Kyungsoo’s head.  

As Jongin slept quietly in his arms, the spaces of Kyungsoo's mind and his heart were filled with worry for him. The fractured state of his relationship with his parents seemed to cause Jongin so much pain, no matter how much he refused to admit it. Gently, he silky, chestnut dark strands of hair and held Jongin tight and resolved to repair everything that was wrong in Jongin's life. He only hoped they could fix things in time.

When Kyungsoo eventually lapsed into uneasy dreams, the last thing on his mind was not his anxiety over tomorrow's concert, but the broken boy he clung to in the wintry night - the boy who had inked an exquisite tapestry of angel wings and hopes and love onto his skin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N: Happy Kaisoo Day, everyone!  Hope you guys enjoy this update and please excuse the choppiness and errors in the last section – will edit them later when it’s not 6.30am. take care and lots of love <3 Please leave a comment and up vote Stained Glass if you like it.Thank you! Also, sincerest apologies for the annoying spacing issues - formatting got all screwed up when i copied the fic from Word and pasted it here. and i can't seem to fix it :/ So sorry!