Key let out a groan when he heard the gears sputter and stop as he sped down the road. He knew that gunning over 100 would probably put his old car into a bit of trouble but he was already running late and, to be perfectly honest, he was a bit of a glutton for speed. It was a miracle that he didn’t cause a ten car pileup when his ty little Volvo froze mid-mile on the freeway, and even more so that he only managed to get a few things thrown at him as he begrudgingly pushed her to the shoulder.

He groans as he hangs up the phone. After a 30 minute hold, he wasn’t feeling very confident about the tow trucks coming anytime soon. He looks at the ground, kicks a rock as he mutters a multitude of profanities, and starts digging through the contents of his car in search for something to keep him occupied during this undisclosed amount of time for this damn mechanic to show up. Half of a remaining pack of cigarettes, some empty (and not-so-empty) bottles of energy drinks, CD cases, unwashed clothes, a lighter, and, of course, his guitar… That’s not much to pass the time with and nothing to eat which Key’s growling stomach protests to immediately. He groans. Suffering leads to art but he’d much rather be in the motel with his bandmates practicing. He pulls a cigarette from his pack and rests it between his lips as he contemplates the best way to not tan in sun but also not overheat in his broken down car. Finally, tossing an old plaid shirt over the top of his head and shoulders, Key finally decides climbing onto the trunk and leaning against the roof is the best plan of action and as he situates himself on his perch he finally lights the tobacco between his teeth.

His draws are long, and he focuses his attention on blowing smoke rings in between the flaps of the plaid shirt, coughing each time he fails as it floods back into his nose. This was not how today was supposed to go.

He’s practically falling asleep on the roof when some kicked up dust and the sound of a hard stop brings him back to his ty reality. The sun’s still pretty visible and there are enough cars driving by that Key doesn’t start fearing for his safety. Still, dark eyes focus on the lights as they shut off and the muffler as it stills, inching their way towards the door and whoever the owner inside might be. This definitely isn’t the mechanic. So then…who is he?

The broad shoulders and toned, very visible arms sends a flutter through Key’s heart that he definitely doesn’t acknowledge. They’re dressed relatively similarly—ripped dark jeans, sleeveless top, boots, though only Key has a plaid shirt on his head.

“Do you need help?” The man asks, approaching Key as he sits up. Key doesn’t reply straight away. He takes another long draw from his cigarette and looks the other over. “What’s it look like?” Finally slips past his lips. He pulls the plaid shirt away and slides down the back of his car. “This isn’t my ideal sunbathing spot,” he’s smirking, resting his third lit cigarette in between his fingers.

The stranger lets out a laugh back. “You don’t look like the sunbathing type anyway.” He retorts, taking note of Key’s pretty pale skin. “Do you want a lift?”

“My parents taught me not to go anywhere with strangers.” Key’s voice is cool and he flicks the ash of his cigarette to the side, dark eyes unmoving from the other.

“Kim Jonghyun. Do you want a lift?” He repeats. “It looks like we’re more or less heading into the same area. Why don’t you let me drive you?”

“That’s nice of you, Kim Jonghyun, but I’m not just going to leave my car on the side of the road. Besides,” He pushes himself back onto the trunk and crosses his legs under him, “I called a mechanic and-”

“He’ll be here soon?” Jonghyun asks, more mocking than anything else. “The cigarettes on the ground tell me you’ve either been here for a bit or you’ve got a serious smoking problem.” Key falls quiet, tch’ing for a moment as he throws the third bud on the ground. “Well aren’t you Mr. Know-it-all. For your information he will be here soon.” Or at least Key hopes he will be.

“I’m sure he will. Mind if I try my hand at fixing it then?”

“Look at you macho man.” Key sneers, shifting from the top of the trunk to the top of the roof. He tosses Jonghyun his keys. “Kit’s in the back. Careful with the guitar.”

----

Dark eyes watch the way Jonghyun’s arm muscles tense and relax as he works on the motor. The sweat from working in the heat has given his skin a new shine and it soon becomes impossible for Key to do anything else besides watch Jonghyun’s every move. He’s resting on his stomach, chin propped up on his hands and the plaid shirt back over his head. “You know, I feel like you’re judging me with the way you’re looking down at my work.” Jonghyun wipes some sweat from his forehead and laughs. “Whenever you feel like getting down from your perch you should give her a go.”

Casually, Key rolls off the roof and lands nimbly on his feet. He shoves the keys into the ignition, turns it rougher than he means, and becomes far too excited when he hears the engine start. “Wow!” He exclaims, “You really-” Just as soon as she starts she’s dead again and the elation in Key’s face falls and shatters like glass knocked off a table. “Well…” It wasn’t Jonghyun’s fault it didn’t work. Hell, the male didn’t even need to fix it for him in the first place. Key’s visibly disappointed but he turns his head away and scratches the back of his partially shaven head in an attempt to hide his face with his arm, “…thanks anyway for trying.”

Jonghyun sighs, shutting the hood and wiping his hands on his pants. “At least wait in my car so you don’t have to spend all your time in the sun.”

“Don’t you have somewhere you should be going?” Key remains turned away.

“It’d be more of a shame to see your pretty skin burn than it would be to be late.”

Key falls silent for a moment. He’s used to people making passing compliments and brief flirtations but for some reason when they come from Jonghyun’s mouth he’s at a loss of how to reply. Jonghyun continues, “Just…do it for me. Take it as my apology for messing up your car even more.”

“Tch. You don’t owe me an apology for anything.” But Key’s already out of his Volvo and making his way into Jonghyun’s sleek, black sports car. He slips into the passenger seat, instantly grateful that the seats aren’t made of pleather, and waits for Jonghyun to join him. For a while it’s quiet between the two; Jonghyun is busy answering emails on his phone and Key, well, his phone died a while ago and he’s just trying to wrack his brain for small talk. Nothing comes. It’s kind of stressful. So, like any high stress situation, he pulls his pack from his back pocket and asks Jonghyun if he minds him smoking.

“You shouldn’t smoke if you’re a singer,” is Jonghyun’s non-answer.

“I’m not a singer” Key retorts quickly and places the thin cig in between his lips, unlit.

“The back of your car states otherwise.”

“Lyrics and a guitar doesn’t make me a singer,” he’s not missing a beat- mainly because he doesn’t want to be chastised for his obviously bad habit. “Can I smoke or should I go back outside?” Jonghyun lowers the passenger side window in response. There’s a half smile on his lips. “What?” Key asks as he flips open his lighter.

“Nothing.” Jonghyun’s so calm, collected, and casual that Key feels both annoyed and incredibly compelled. He huffs, sticking his head out the window so he can light up and inhales deeply.  The smoke is warm in his throat and turns the unbearable external heat into something more manageable. He’s feeling far more relaxed now. He lets his hand hang out the window and settles back into the plush seat. “Who’re you texting, your girlfriend?” His eyes wander around the car and he lets out a laugh, clearly finding himself funnier than he actually is. Before Jonghyun can answer, though, his focus settles on a familiar object on the car’s floor—a CD cover. The same album that got him through so many darker periods and inspired him to pursue his own music career. “You’re a fan of them too?” He asks, inhaling excitedly on his cigarette as he bends down to pick it up. “You have no idea how much I love them. Which track is your favorite?”

Jonghyun turns his head nonchalantly but there’s a brighter gleam sparkling in his eyes. “Probably ‘Nowhere,’ what about you?”

“Ah, that one’s so good!” He’s smoking inside the car now, too excited by the CD in his hand and Jonghyun’s apparent interest in their conversation about it. Before he knows it they’re talking about music composition and the poeticism of the lyrics. Jonghyun starts his car up so they can toss the disc into his CD player. In between bits of conversation one or the other starts to sing a favorite line or a full chorus. Key can’t help but notice how incredibly smooth and sultry Jonghyun’s voice is. It’s so powerful but he exercises such control over it that it’s far from overbearing. The lead singer of Key’s own band is great but damn Jonghyun can sing!

“I thought you weren’t a singer,” Jonghyun teases, cocking an eyebrow as the CD restarts itself.

“I’m not. Not by trade anyway.” His cigarette has long since been tossed out the window and he hardly felt the need to pull another one during that whole time.

“It’s a shame,” the other continues, “you could probably sell albums by the millions if you did.”

Key’s visibly blushing but he doesn’t care. Jonghyun has such musical proficiency that being complimented by him is like a high honor that Key both feels unworthy of and yet still knows he deserves it and so much more. “Well, you can tell that to my lead singer. I’ll tell you, though, Jinki’s pretty good. I bet he could even rival you.”

“I’d like to see him try!” Jonghyun falls back into his seat from the force of his laughs; but it’s not that he’s being haughty, the playful air Key gives off is just too contagious.

The sun is nearly settled when the mechanic finally arrives. The diagnosis isn’t too promising and within minutes he’s called a tow truck for backup. Luckily, the shop they need to go to is in the same direction as where Key is headed anyway. Jonghyun tries his hand at offering him one final ride but Key declines again. “It’s easier this way. At least I’ll know where my car’s ending up you know?” But the laugh he gives this time is a little bit sadder than his previous ones. He regrets saying no the moment it leaves his lips.

Jonghyun turns and Key speaks up again quickly, “By the way, my name’s Kim Kibum. Everyone calls me Key. Give me your phone so we can meet up again sometime. It’s been a while since I’ve jammed like that.” It takes hardly a few seconds for Key to type in his number, punctuating his name with a <3. “Hope your girlfriend won’t mind.” He winks and heads to the tow truck. It’s kind of sad to think that this might be the only time they see each other…so Key tries not to think on it too much.

----
Jinki would never be the type to scold Key for being late when matters were clearly out of his control, but he still slips in a few patronizing “how fast were you driving?” “did you have enough gas?” “you could be a bit easier on your car you know,” after Key finally arrives at their hotel and settles down. Jinki means it with love so Key’s not too upset; he just rolls his eyes and shakes his head in response. “So are you ready for tomorrow?” It’s their first big time Battle of the Bands competition—one that could land them the record deal of their dreams. Key knows they’ll take it home, even if Jinki and Minho seem a little bit less certain. Still, there’s excitement between them and an eagerness to get onto that stage.

“Sleep well, guys. Tomorrow’s our time to shine.”

----
The dark jeans and simple shirts from yesterday are substituted with pleather pants and studded vests as Key, Jinki, and Minho get ready for their performance. Punk is their aesthetic. Key’s finishing up the final touches of his eyeliner as the stage manager calls in the dressing room, “Five minutes!” Key looks himself over. His eyes are sharp, his gaze intense, the unshaved side of his head frames his face perfectly and his outfit is (of course) as perfect as it could get. He and Jinki look like two pieces of a puzzle ready to fit together—fanservice is their game, after all.

The others have already made their way backstage by the time Key’s finished putting on his final touches. He grabs the cherry red guitar strap and slings it over his shoulder. He’s confident. He’s pumped up. He’s so ready to get out there and own that stage that he doesn’t realize he’s almost plowing someone over in the middle of his long strides. “Oh, sorry I didn’t see you there!”

Dark eyes go wide as he straightens from his deep bow. It’s in part because of the man before him but definitely has more to do with the feeling of full lips pressing against his own. He’s stunned, practically paralyzed at what’s happened. They shouldn’t be seen like this! Wait—no that’s not right! This is not about being seen, this man shouldn’t even be here right now! “I-… What-…Why-…” His stammering is met with a smirk as Kim Jonghyun pulls away and lightly over his bottom lip. “Break a leg, Kibum.”