To say that Yixing is in over his head is the understatement of the year.

Xiumin warned him in the beginning that once he set his mind on this decision, there was no going back to the way things were.  The moment Yixing made the final decision to go to that Choir concert and scope out the prime singer to be the main vocal on his latest track was the exact same moment that Yixing destroyed any hope he ever had of being able to escape the tides of fate. Because, as it turns out, it was destiny that Yixing decided on that particular night to go see the school chorus perform, fate that dictated it impossible for him to say no when Luhan and Xiumin both warned him that he was just digging a deep, deep hole for himself. 

But he doesn't regret it, not one bit, because after nearly an hour of sitting in the stands yawning behind his hands in absolute boredom, he is awarded the sight and sound he has been waiting for all his life.  It comes in a package almost as amazing as the voice is thrilling, leaving Yixing unable to look away from the singer as he stands there, poised between two other short males, neck veins straining as he belts high notes to the heavens. 

And god, that voice.  If he isn't an angel, he was certainly blessed by one. 

Yixing listens to this angel sing harmonies on six songs, belt solos in three of them, and take the lead on two.  He watches, mesmerized from his seat in the balcony as each song begins and ends with this perfect creature dragging in a deep breath of air with powerful lungs, opening his mouth wide and letting out a wisp of air so strong it almost topples him over the banister, sending him falling to the row upon row of seats below.  

Magically, Yixing doesn't die that night, but something in him is instead , invigorated and charged.  It's at that moment, watching this black haired male belt his final ending note of the night that Yixing makes his final decision: either this man is singing on his song or he refuses to compose ever again. 

However, the task is easier said than done.  Sure, Yixing has connections in the music department, friends in theatre and the arts, but that doesn't mean he knows everyone.  He doesn't know the name of his chosen vocal, nor does he even know where to begin.  Perhaps, he reckons, Xiumin or Luhan would be a good start since they were the first to warn him not to attend the concert and seal his fate, but ultimately, he decides there's someone better to go to for advice. 

Huang Zitao is notorious in the school for several reasons.  The one which brings Yixing to his locker is the fact that he is basically the eyes and ears of the school.  He walks the shadows of the hallways and lives in the darkness none of them can see.  He overhears every secret you whisper, sees every word you write on a slip of paper and he knows you before you know he even exists. 

So, of course it would be wise to visit him first for answers knowing that if Huang Zitao doesn't have them, he might as well give up now. 

He stops at the tall, dark male's locker, peering up at the raven-haired youth in both a mix of awe and terror.  Zitao is probably the only person in the school with balls big enough to smoke in the hallway, not even caring to exit the school when he has the urge.  And right now, propped against his locker and draped in his fashionable trenchcoat, Zitao has his arms crossed over his toned chest, cigarette hanging loosely between thin, attractive lips. 

The look Yixing receives when he pulls up beside him is anything but friendly.  "What?" He demands simply, eyebrow cocking in the intimidating version of a question.  Yixing almost turns tail and runs, but he swallows down that part of him, takes a deep breath and stares back at Zitao in something close to determination. 

"Do you know who the main singer of the choir is?" His question is weird, obviously, inferred by how Zitao looks at him like he's gone cookoo.  That being said, Yixing isn't the one smoking in school, so, how bout that?

"Maybe?  Why should I tell you?" He asks, eyes skimming over Yixing as if judging him to decide if he's worth the effort of remembering.  

"Because I really need to talk to him." 

"Cute," but his face doesn't look like he thinks it's cute, "Why don't you go do that, and when you do, you can ask him what his name is, okay?"  Zitao gives a cheeky little smile and an obnoxious little wave.  "Buh-bye." He rolls his eyes and returns to his relaxed stance on the locker, completely ignoring the fact that Yixing hasn't left yet. 

He stares in pure loathing before taking a breath and once again testing his luck.  "Look, I need to know his name." 

"Yeah, and I need a new pack of cigarettes.  Sorry to break it to you princess, but we don't always get what we want."  

"Okay, you listen to me!" Everyone stops, the halls freezing as Yixing snarls it, going where no one has ever gone before and stepping over the boundary between Zitao and the rest of the school.  He steps into his bubble, going toe to toe with the nightmare of the school, face set in a leer and fists clenched at his sides.  "I don't give a  how cool you think you are.  I asked you a simple question, one that does not deserve this kind of attitude, and all you have to do is give me a simple answer for me to leave.  I think I deserve that much respect, don't you agree?" 

Zitao looks him over, eyes narrowed in a look so malicious Yixing nearly loses himself in fear.  He holds strong, even as Zitao throws his half-smoked bud on the ground, stomping it out and coming off the locker to stand chest to chest with Yixing.  Yixing's never fought before, never been in a situation where he thought he would have to, but he figures now might be one of those times where he has no choice. 

And if this is what it take--

"Hey, what's all the fuss?"  They both stop, Zitao looking over Yixing's head, face softening and eyes losing their hard, cold stare.  Yixing follows his line of sight, turning to look over his own shoulder.  His breath catches in his throat as he sees the one, the chosen angel who he wishes to sing on his track.   And in this light, so different from the night before, his angel is even more attractive than Yixing ever imagined a person could ever be. 

Unlike in the performance, the shorter male is dressed like any normal College student might dress.  He has on a baggy sweater, the kind that's probably one or two sizes too big, but yet looks like the comfiest thing in the world.  It's a beautiful shade of navy and decorated by white snowflakes on the shoulders and arms, a stripe of white cuffing he sleeves around his hands and the hem of the sweater.  On his legs are a pair of tight jeans, not tight enough to look uncomfortable, but enough for Yixing to stare in awe a couple seconds too long, marveling at the way his beautiful legs look in something as simple as your average pair of pants.  

But Yixing is able to look away after a moment, returning his gaze to the face of this beauty.  It's a good thing, too, because Chocolate brown orbs are still watching him, head cocked and weight shifted as the male stares at them both in accusation. 

"Well, speak of the ing devil," Zitao spits, though his tone isn't nearly as smart or harsh as it was with Yixing.  It leads Yixing to believe, with good suspicions, that he must have a soft spot for this kid.  That, he decides, is probably why he was so adamant about not revealing his identity. 

"Language," the male scolds.  "And what did I tell you about smoking in the hallway or picking fights?  This is not appropriate behavior for number one, now is it?"  Yixing is pulled out of staring at mystery boy's by that confession. 

"Wait, you're number one?" 

"Don't you have a question for pretty boy here?"  Zitao shoots back without pause.  With focus now on him, Yixing can't seem to take the pressure.  He wonders, really he does, how it is that he has more courage to stand up to Zitao, the badass of the school, than he does to talk to some little choir boy.  But then again, he wasn't just staring at Zitao's , either. 

And mystery boy's eyes are on him now, beautiful chocolate brown eyes blinking at him patiently, waiting for something, any indication of why Yixing was looking for him.  He doesn't really want to do this now, nor does he really think his song needs vocals anymore, but it does and he knows it does and that's probably why he feels like he has to do what he's about to do. 

"I, uh, went to your concert last ni--"

"You did?"  The boy looks skeptical.  "I didn't see you there." 

"I was in the balcony." Yixing confesses, palms sweating and eyes downcast under the scrutiny of this amazing vocal.  "I didn't want to be distracted by the glamour or the set up, so I wanted a seat away from the lights and stage.  I wanted to hear the voices, not the production.  And I got to hear a lot of different voices, a lot of different singing styles.  But there was one that really stood out to me."  He looks up, building up courage as he looks this kid in the eyes.  "You.  You didn't sound the same as the others."  

Mystery boy looks at him with a sidelong glance, arms crossing over his chest and body settling into an almost defensive stance.  "Are you trying to tell me that I wasn't good?"  Yixing snorts. 

"Never--"

"Well, good, because I'll have you know that I worked hard to put on my best performance last night and I do not appreciate jerks going to my friends to tell them about how terrible they think I am just because I stole the spotlight from Kyungsoo or Baekhyun.  It's not my fault the teacher thought my voice was more suited for the lineup! I don't make executive decisions around here, the instructor does, and my friends do not need the harassment and neither do I!" 

Yixing shakes his head fervently.  "No, but I'm not here to harass you!" 

"Then why are you harassing Zitao, huh?" 

"All I asked him was for your name!  How the hell is that harassment?!"  

Times stops for a second, the argument put on hold as the smaller male looks between Yixing and Zitao, face slowly falling out of anger and irritation and into innocent confusion.  His double take ends as he looks at Yixing, tip of his tongue caught between his teeth in an apologetic gesture as he laughs nervously, hands clasping behind him as he bows in semi-embarrassment. 

The sight is almost too cute for Yixing to handle. 

Luckily, "you could've just asked him.  Not like he doesn't live in the practice rooms," saves Yixing from doing anything irrational. 

"Hey!  I'll have you know that I've gotten better about that!  I don't live in the practice rooms anymore, I just...rent them from time to time." 

"Well isn't that just adorable," Zitao teases.  Yixing feels rather rewarded to watch as the smaller male hits him in the arm, snapping at him for being so insubordinate.  Unfortunately, he forgets not to laugh. 

"What are you laughing at?  You couldn't even get up the courage to ask me my name!" Yixing's smile falls, replaced immediately by a frown and a sudden influx of determination. 

"Fine then, what's your name?" 

"What's yours?" 

"Zhang Yixing." He answers proudly. 

"Well, Yixing, I don't give my name out to just anyone without a good reason.  So, why are you asking?" 

This is the moment of truth, the moment when he finally gets to say it, to put his plan into action.  It's fast, faster than he expected it to move, but hell, he's already done more in the last five minutes than he has in his entire life.  He's running on adrenaline, nerves, a lack of sleep and the want, no, the need to get this off his chest.  He has to tell him.  Has to just spit it out and get it off his chest, to finish his song and let his heart be at rest. 

He takes a deep, deep breath and...

"I like you."  It comes out before he can even stop himself.  And now not only is Mystery Boy staring at him, so is Tao--with a smirk on his lips and mirth in his eyes--and the rest of the hallway who all heard those words slip through his lips. 

"Excuse me?" 

"I mean, I like your voice, not you!" Wait... "I mean, yeah, I do like you, but not like you like you.  I mean, I don't have a crush on you or anything, not that you aren't worthy of a crush, I mean, you're gorgeous!  Well, handsome, handsome is better.  But I didn't come here to tell you that! Ugh, this is not how I planned this."  He stops, taking a deep breath and looking back up at Mystery Boy with renewed vigor. 

He plans to ask him to sing on his song.  Plans to tell him how beautiful and mesmerizing his voice is.  He makes the decision to tell him he's the only person suitable for this track. 

But instead, "Will you go out with me?" Is all that manages to escape through his untrustworthy lips. 

There's this second of time where Yixing just stares at him and he stares at Yixing.  He can see the blush developing on the boy's cheeks, see the way he hesitates to answer, lips flexing like he wants to say something, breaths coming in odd spasms like he's preparing to respond.  But there's nothing.  He says and does nothing, just keeping eye contact and staring into Yixing's soul with such confusion, such worry, such curiosity that Yixing actually melts for him. 

So, instead, Yixing takes a deep breath and swallows it down with all his regrets of the past.  "What I meant to say was: your voice is amazing.  I was mesmerized in those stands last night and I couldn't get over how well you sang.  Your tone and range is absolutely amazing and your presentation was nothing but stunning.  Your voice pulled me out of my seat and lifted me to the banister, forced me to look down and find the person who froze my soul with his voice alone.  Multiple times I thought I was going to fall over that banister and crash onto the audience below, I was that absorbed in your singing. 

"But luckily, I survived the night, but unfortunately, you changed something for me.  And after that performance last night, I decided that there was nothing else that could be done."  He takes a step forward, takes Mystery Boy by the shoulders and looks deep into his eyes. 

"Your voice stole my heart last night and now, you have no choice but to sing on my newly composed song to make up for it."  

Once again, the boy's mouth spasms, opens and closes a couple of times.  His face twitches, going through so many emotions and expressions without the ability to find one to stick to, a voice to put words to his thoughts, a sound to come out of his opening and closing mouth.  And Yixing is a second away from asking if he's going to be okay when he snaps his mouth closed and looks up at him in a mix of horror and exhilaration. 

"You composed a song." Yixing nods.  "By yourself." He nods again, though this one is iffy because his computer did help...a little. "And you want me, a complete stranger, to sing on it all because of one performance?" 

"It was one hell of a performance." Yixing clarifies, unable to help the smile that takes over his lips, releases the dimple he sometimes gets shy over.  But Jongdae isn't smiling. 

Instead he snorts. "Enough to make you confess to some guy you don't even know the name of?" 

Yixing smiles.  "I don't need to know your name.  I already know that there's no one else who could do my song justice."

He sighs, puts a hand to his forehead and shakes his head, but Yixing sees the smile he's trying to hide, peeks at the blush that just barely stains this kid's cheeks.  And anyone could see the way he giddily bounces on his feet like he's trying to seem contemplative.  

But Yixing isn't blind.  And when Mystery Boy looks up, face somehow serious again and free of the embarrassing blush, he can't help the smile that shows through like a beam of light in the dark.  

Sadly, it's contagious and soon, Mystery Boy is smiling, too.  "Well, Yixing, if I'm going to be singing on your title track, you're going to have to buy me coffee first."  His expression settles into a little smirk as he smirks, turning to make his leave.  

he makes it a whole five steps before he stops and turns around.  "Oh, and uh, if we're gonna be working together, I suppose you should know: my name is Kim.  Kim Jongdae." With that, he turns on his heel and darts off in the direction of the building exit. 

Yixing stares in awe at the place where Jongdae was just standing, shaking his head and unable to remove the smile painted on his face. 

"Guess I won't have to delete the file after all."