Summary: It’s the day after the night before and everyone’s hungover. Jaejoong doesn’t know what Yunho meant when he said they could be friends, but it wasn’t this. What happens when he gets more than he hoped for?

A.N.: This chapter turned out to be all Jae, but the next one will be almost all Yunho. I guess that makes it fair. As always, comments are appreciated. ^^

—*—

The next day, things get weird.

I’m outside the practice room studying sheet music for my lesson that week when Eunhyuk turns the corner into the corridor. There’s no one around but the two of us. He stops for a moment when he notices me, staring at me down the length of the white-tiled hall. My stomach knots. Uh-oh.

He’s never acknowledged me at the studio before. None of the guys do, especially not the group Yunho hangs out with. I sometimes joke around with Jinah that I’m SM’s only resident superhero, Invisible Boy, because everyone looks right through me. Not a very funny joke, I guess. But it dulls the hurt.

But today is different.

Eunhyuk walks right toward me, his face set with grim purpose. For a moment, I consider darting into the practice room to hide. Don’t be silly. What am I afraid of? He won’t do anything. He never does. But the memories of last night are fresh in my mind: Junsu humiliating me and the chaos that followed. Eunhyuk tossing money at Heechul before running out the door. Somehow, it’ll be my fault.

He’s a few steps away now. I clench my fingers onto the music sheets, waiting for him to pass so I can relax. But he doesn’t. He stops next me and lifts his hand in a brief wave.

“Hey.”

He means me? I barely stop myself from looking to see if he’s greeting someone else.

“Hi.”

He shifts his weight uncomfortably, and scratches the back of his head, dark hair tufting out behind his prominent ears. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

He clears his throat.

“So…sheet music, huh? Studying for voice lessons?” I think we’re both surprised when he blurts out the words. His awkward inquiry makes me nervous. More nervous.

“Y-yes. Instructor Lim told me to learn this song for my next lesson.”

He nods. “I had Lim too, last year. He’s a if you don’t do your homework.”

Of course he’s had classes with Lim. Most of the trainees here have been working with SM instructors for years. Some trainees my age have had over five years of classes because they were signed by SM when they were only eleven. I started so much later than that, at fifteen. It feels like I’ll never catch up. I have to. I have to be better.

Eunhyuk keeps talking.

“Once, I forgot my homework two lessons in a row, and Lim screamed at me for so long that there was no time left for a lesson. He had to give me the same assignment again. I won that round.” He chuckles.

“He hasn’t yelled at me. But I haven’t missed an assignment yet."

“You’re okay, then. Just remember that his bark is worse than his bite. Who cares about a little yelling? Just apologize and let him get it out of his system. Never talk back. He’ll tell your coordi.”

My mouth drops open in horror. I can’t imagine the shame of an instructor telling my scary, always-angry coordi noona that I wasn’t practicing. That I wasn’t grateful for this opportunity. What if they made me leave because of it? What would I do if I had to leave SM? I’d have nothing. All my hard work for nothing. No.

My fear must show on my face, because Eunhyuk rushes to reassure me. “Don’t worry. Do the work and don’t argue. You’ll be fine.”

I nod, but I can’t answer. I’m speechless as the possibilities of having to leave SM run through my head. I feel the sharp prickle of tears starting and look down so Eunhyuk won’t notice. But he does.

“Crap. Don’t be upset,” he says. He holds a hand toward me, palm out, like I’m a skittish horse he’s trying to calm. His eyes are wide and anxious. “It’s okay. Lim’s not going to do anything. You’ll be fine.” He runs his hand through his hair again, agitated.

I nod to placate him, and his body sags with relief.

“Well… I should go. If you’re okay.” Eunhyuk shoots me an uncertain look. “I just wanted to say hi.”

I nod again. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay.”

We’re both nodding our heads at each other. I feel like an idiot.

“Okay. I’ll leave first then.” Eunhyuk gives a slight bow and then catches himself, bemused. He walks backward a few steps, waves, then turns and all but sprints down the hall toward the stairwell. He’s clearly thrilled to get away. Weird.

And then it hits: the unreality of having a conversation with someone who’s ignored me for the last eight months. What was that?

He’s not the only person who suddenly gains the power to see me. Taehyun and his big bruiser friends actually walk around me in the canteen for once, instead of trying to walk through me. I could swear that Taehyun even gives me a slight nod. Later on, when I drop a notebook in the hallway, Kangin stops to pick it up. He hands it to me without a word, but I’m shocked that he didn’t just walk past like everyone else. Overnight, I’ve gone from being the unspoken pariah of the studio to being treated like I’m…human. Normal. With all my dreams of being special, of being a star, I never thought “normal” would make me so happy. But it does. That sick feeling of dread I get in the pit of my stomach while walking down the halls is gone, replaced with a weird feeling of…relief. Not happiness, but the absence of unhappiness. Now I understand the old saying: “Kick a dog enough, and it loves you for stopping.”

But the sudden change makes me paranoid. It all seems too good to be true—especially for my life—even though I’m sure I know the reason. Yunho. I want to see him, talk to him. I still have his schedule memorized. I know exactly where he is right now and what he’s doing. It’s tempting to wander by his dance practice and see him. How will he treat me? Are we really friends now? My heart beats faster at the thought.

—*—

The answer comes later that afternoon.

I’m in one of the listening booths at the music library, trying to figure out what Instructor Lim means by a “reverse beat,” when I hear a knock. I look up. Heechul waves at me through the glass window of the booth. He points to himself and then into the small room where I’m sitting, mouthing, “Can I come in?”

I nod.

The padded door swings open, but instead of Heechul, Junsu stumbles in like he was pushed. Heechul stands behind him in the doorway, dusting his hands.

“Hello, Kim Jaejoong. Lovely to see you again. You’re looking well.” He smiles wickedly. “I’d love to stay and chat, but this one here,” he nudges the miserable Junsu with his foot, “needs to talk you privately. We’ll have to catch up some other time.”

He pushes Junsu farther into the room and grabs the door handle. “I’ll be over at Starbucks if you need me. Have fun, kittens.”

He starts to pull the door shut, but Junsu whips out a hand and grabs the edge of it. He gives Heechul a pleading look. Heechul’s amused face sets into a stern expression as he yanks the door free of the boy’s grasp. But his voice is not unkind when he says, “Come find me when you’re done.”

With a last fluttering farewell wave of his fingers, Heechul pulls the door firmly shut. Junsu and I are alone in the small booth.

For a moment we freeze in place, eyeing each other. I sit at the small carrel covered with sheet music and CDs while Junsu huddles against the door like a trapped animal. He looks so wretched that I feel my lips twitch into a smile. I have to stifle a nervous giggle that bubbles up inside me.

Junsu is wearing an oversized tan jacket and baggy jeans. He looks lost in them, like a little kid. Long bangs curtain his face, obscuring everything except his cheeks and mouth. He naturally has chubby cheeks, but today his whole face looks puffy. His lips are chapped and raw. He doesn’t look good.

Hungover.

He stands there unmoving, hiding behind his hair. Visibly wretched. What should I do? Whenever I see him around SM, he’s always smiling and happy. Cheerful by nature. Nothing like the pile of misery before me right now. For some reason, that makes this situation easier for me. I’m not nervous around him. The silence stretches out as neither of us speaks. Is he waiting on me? I have to say something.

“H-how are you feeling today?” I venture.

He shakes away his bangs and looks at me. Finally! His eyes are bloodshot and swollen. “I feel like I want to die,” he groans. “Worst hangover of my life.”

“I’m not surprised. You had a lot to drink. Although,” I hesitate, trying to find a diplomatic of saying this, “you did get some of it out of your system last ni—”

“I threw up my soul,” he moans. He leans back against the door, tilting his head up and closing his eyes. “It was like an exorcism. It just…exploded out of me.”

I can’t argue with that. It was like a scene from a horror movie. The screaming. The panic. The smell.

He starts to tell me about the rest of his night, which apparently involved the bathrooms of several friends’ houses, more vomiting, and long lectures from Heechul about the evils of mixing liquor. I don’t know if it’s the gloomy way he tells the story or his air of indignant suffering, but I struggle not to laugh. He acts like he’s the lead in a Shakespearean tragedy, but…it’s a hangover. From what I’ve heard of Yunho’s friends, it can’t be his first.

“And then it was five in the morning! I wanted to sleep—or do anything except move or vomit for a change—but noooo! Heechul said I needed to walk it off. I remember him dressing me in a hamtaro costume—he said it was for warmth, but does that make any sense?” A pause. “I think he took pictures.” Another pause. “And then he made me walk around for blocks and blocks until I thought I was going to die. Maybe I did die