Archive of Our Own

Hyunjin latches onto Lee Minho as early into the second semester of his third year as he can get away with, for two reasons. One, Minho is older—he knows the ropes, he’s casually friendly with the professors. And two, Minho hadn’t looked impressed at all with the new recruits at the semester’s first meeting. That got Hyunjin’s interest up. “I’m sure you’re all real hot, but no one looks hot after six hours of dance practice. You can look like Aphrodite kissed your ass as a baby and you’re not getting on a dance team until you work for it. We choose trios next month,” Minho had announced. He’s the new coordinator since Minhyuk graduated last year.

Last year, Hyunjin had been in a different dance troupe and they’d been in teams of six instead of trios. Hyunjin’s team showcase was a disaster. He’s over it, basically, but the routine was trash and the team was inconsistent and uncooperative and he took the brunt of the blame. Because he was supposed to be better—they’d all expected him to be a better dancer. To pull the rest of the team through. Because (and no one said it to his face, but it still got back to him) he was supposedly good-looking enough that no one would even pay attention to the routine. Cute, but no carefully pouted lower lip, no meticulously applied eyeliner, no amount of box hair dye, no endless nights of solo practice, were going to distract from the fact that three of the dancers couldn’t even find the downbeat of a song they’d heard four hundred times.

He’s not going to get blamed this year. He’s going to be phenomenal, because his team is going to be phenomenal, because he’s going to be working with phenomenal people, and that means Minho.

Despite the near-military strictness of the first few practices, Minho accepts being latched onto without any fuss or drama. Hyunjin likes him and the friends from the big dance crew he hangs out with. He works Hyunjin like a dog, so much so that Hyunjin doesn’t have time to exchange a single word with Felix, the other dancer he knows Minho’s been eying, for two full weeks of rehearsals.

After those two weeks, Minho stops practice early and surveys the two of them. Hyunjin is bent over and panting; Felix has already grabbed a water bottle. “All right. You’ll do,” he says.

It’s the first time Hyunjin has felt like he’s really proven himself. He likes it. He loves it. He whoops and crushes Felix into a hug. This year’s showcase is going to be spectacular. He’s going to be spectacular. And no one will say it’s just because he’s just naturally hot.

It’s all a blur of school and dance and study and meeting endless new people that month, learning new moves, unlearning bad form. And late lunches with the dance troupe, trying to parse Felix’s accent and correct his pronunciation—sometimes through tears of laughter because of the way he scowls when he gets things wrong. Minho has already taken a lot of the classes Hyunjin is in now and lets him look over his old notes (so he has more time for dance practice, he says, but Hyunjin suspects that he’s actually just being nice). He’s been slammed into a new group after two years of school, and Hyunjin…

Well, he’s thriving, actually. Finally. After two years of just slogging, he’s making progress.

Minho has a real apartment, a glorious escape from the dystopian nightmare of living on campus. He’s also got this roommate who Hyunjin isn’t sure about.

“Chan-hyung makes most of the tracks I use for showcases,” Minho tells him when they’re introduced for the first time. He’s brought Hyunjin over to review choreography videos and brainstorm for the winter performance.

“Oh, god, don’t even mention it, please,” Chan says. He meets Hyunjin’s eyes and half-smiles modestly down at the floor, cheeks pinking. Hyunjin’s hackles are up immediately. Hyunjin hates false modesty and Chan doesn’t have anything to be modest about. He’s got a muscle tee showing off his arms, the deep cuts in the side of his shirt to hint at his ribs. And his tracks are good. If Hyunjin made music that good, everyone would know about it. He doesn’t like the way Chan steals glances at him, either. He’d better not try flirting. Not that the guy is bad to look at, but here? This place is supposed to be his escape from campus and all its eyes.  

Hyunjin calms himself down. Chan is polite for now. He’s very friendly, actually, in an egalitarian sort of way. He already knows Felix, who shows up a little later, and gives him the same affable smile and greeting he gave Minho. That does put Hyunjin a bit more at ease as the frosty afternoon sun fades out of the living room.

Even so, Chan is what Hyunjin calls in his head ‘stare-y eyed’. The kind of person who looks at Hyunjin like he’s awestruck. Not ‘starry-eyed’, because that would be reserved for someone who actually knows and likes him. Chan doesn’t. It’s all surface, no night-time depth. Hyunjin used to worry that it was conceited to think people were staring at him because of his looks. Now, he figures that clocking that sort of thing is just self-preservation. But at least Chan isn’t stalker-ish or full of uncomfortable insinuations and questions. He just drops things sometimes when Hyunjin shows up at his and Minho’s apartment—physical things, like his phone or keys. Better than dropping hints. After the first couple times, Hyunjin can sort of ignore it and just enjoy hanging out with Minho off-campus, even when Chan is home. He doesn’t even talk to Hyunjin much. Just polite pleasantries.

Honestly, though, it isn’t even difficult to catch him staring. And Chan’s not much older than Hyunjin, but somewhere in his head, that cold sliver of discomfort is there—an older guy, staring at him. Sometimes, Hyunjin thinks his own face is a liability.

When he has the time, Hyunjin goes on dates. It’s the college thing to do, and one of these days it’s bound to work out. No one ever turns him down for a second date even if he’s distant and boring or snappy on the first one. He wants to find that interesting, or even exciting. He hates that it makes him feel arrogant instead. Once, with a guy called Daejun creeping his hand up Hyunjin’s thigh at the cinema, he realizes distantly that he could get up and leave right now, half an hour into the movie, and Daejun would probably still agree to meet him for lunch the next day. Just for the possibility of feeling him up again? Where does he think this is going? he wonders. And then he realizes that he doesn’t know where he himself thinks this is going. He hates dinner-and-a-movie dates anyways. It’s so cheesy and uncreative. He traps Daejun’s hand in his own before it can get any higher. Hyunjin doesn’t go out with him again.

He does go out with Ryujin from the dance crew five or six times. She’s sharp, he likes her well enough, but her patience runs out eventually. “Man, you’re great to chat with, but I don’t think you see this moving forward,” she tells him, chewing on a coffee straw.

He’s glad he didn’t have to say it, so he shrugs sheepishly. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have wasted your time.”

“No hard feelings. It’s been good to find someone to trash talk the profs with.”

He gives her a cheers with his own coffee cup and tries not to feel awkward seeing her at dance practice the next day.

Ryujin’s the exception, because she at least sees that he’s better at trash talk than sweet talk. Someone else he goes out with the next week says, “You’re so easygoing, Hyunjin, that’s what I like about you,” with those stare-y eyes.

“Not really,” Hyunjin says. “I’m pretty high-strung, actually.”

He gets a laugh and a, “Nah, don’t be so modest,” in response. That one doesn’t lead to a third date. How can someone look right at Hyunjin’s face and see something that so obviously isn’t there? Still, it was worth a try. One of them will work out, one of these days.

He keeps trying the dates. But really, Hyunjin prefers his dance trio, neither of whom have any interest in him. Minho’s got some sort of something going on with Chan’s friend, Jisung, and Felix spends most of the time he isn’t dancing his feet bloody by either mournfully recounting his latest linguistic failures or rapturously dissecting every move made by his Music Theory TA.

Sometimes, Minho will invite them both over to his apartment under the premise of monitoring their practice tapes and then let them drink the beer and soju in his fridge. Those are good nights, good time spent yelling at each other. Chan is sometimes there in the living room too, but thankfully he mostly stays in his bedroom. He hasn’t tried hitting on Hyunjin yet, but it’s probably only a matter of time. The longer it takes for him to get comfortable with Hyunjin in his house, the longer Hyunjin will get to stave off any awkward flirting.

Tonight, Chan is in his bedroom with Jisung, while Felix slumps lower and lower on the couch until he’s lying half-off of it, and Hyunjin lies flat on his back on the carpet and Minho jumps from one chair to another to another. At some point Jisung sticks his head out and yells, “Can you three shut the fuck up, we’re trying to make a song.”

“Noooo, Hannie,” Minho croons back. “We are incapable of shutting the fuck up.”

“It’s fine,” Hyunjin hears Chan say from the bedroom. “Ji, honestly, let’s just call it quits.”

“You guys suck,” says Jisung. Then he amends, “Well, Felix, you don’t suck. But you two…” He glares.

Hyunjin has never had a single nice word from Jisung in the four months since they’ve met, so he doesn’t bother feeling too offended. But he hears Chan from his room say, “Quit being a dick,” and Minho puts an over his eyes and says, “Oh, you wound me, what will I do now that I’ve lost your good opinion, that which is most precious to my soul?”

Jisung slams the door shut. Minho cackles.

“I think Jisung hates me because I’m hot,” Hyunjin says. He isn’t sure if he really thinks that. Maybe it’s just swimming around in his alcohol-loosened head.

“Oh, please,” Minho says. “Ever consider that he might just hate you because of your shitty personality?”

 “You’re not as hot as that TA of mine,” Felix giggles. He shuffles so that his legs are dangling off the back of the couch and his head is hanging off the seat, and shakes his head to make his hair sway.

“We know,” Hyunjin and Minho say in unison. Felix can’t go a day without talking about the TA.  

“Maybe he’s a bit jealous,” Felix adds diplomatically. “You’re not shitty. You are hot, though.”

“Hyunjinnie needs to internalize the lesson that not everything is about looks,” Minho says dryly.

“Everyone who likes me only likes me because I’m hot,” he says. And that’s the second he knows he’s really drunk. Who the fuck says shit like that? Shit that he doesn’t even really believe?

Minho apparently can’t roll his eyes hard enough to show his feelings, because he rolls his whole head back in exasperation. “Not true. You know it’s not true, I don’t care how hot you are at all and I might even like you just fine.”

Drunk- brain takes over, even though he knows he’s being crazy. “Well why would you like me, then?”

“I like you for your shitty personality,” Minho declares. “And for the record, Jisung hates you because I like you for your shitty personality. He thinks you’re a bad influence.”

Hyunjin snorts. Felix looks confused, then shrugs upside down. “I don’t think you have a shitty personality,” he says. “I like you because you’re nice.”

“Felix, you think everyone who says four words in a row to you is nice,” Minho says.

“Yeah, because you are nice to deal with how bad I talk in Korean.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “You two are so fucking insecure, I hate you both. You’re dedicated, talented people. Grow the fuck up, no one cares about your accent or your face, least of all me.”

Felix and Hyunjin are both stunned silent. “Wow,” Hyunjin says at last. “Thanks, hyung.”

“Wait, can we call him hyung, now? Is that cool?” Felix asks.

“No,” Minho snorts. “You can call me hyung when you grow a backbone and do well at the winter showcase.”

Felix nods upside-down like Minho has given him an assignment. Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “Hey, not-hyung, will you order us snacks?” he asks. Because he knows it’ll start a fight and then he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. Why is he so fucking shallow?

Sure enough, Minho makes a disgusted groan. “You should be buying me snacks, you horrible little freeloader!” And the night devolves into staged anger bleeding into laughter from there.

The semester hurtles towards winter. Hyunjin cancels all the half-hearted plans he’s made over the past few weeks and spends his spare time in the practice rooms, repeating the same moves again and again and again. This year is not going to be like last year. Minho moves fluidly, beautifully, effortless. Felix twists his body with a powerful elegance that makes him look older than he is. They’re both magnetic without even trying, and they are trying. They’re putting in the work. This year, the team is not going to be a problem. This year, he’s got to be the one who doesn’t let them down. He practices his faces in the mirror and grounds himself fully in his body. He stretches carefully before and after every session, terrified of getting an injury that will put him out of commission. And he finds himself staying in the music building later and later as the snow piles up outside, long after Minho and Felix have gone home.

Chan does have at least one thing going for him; Hyunjin never gets tired of his music. They’re using two of his songs for the winter showcase, and a third by some American artist. Hyunjin has to listen to them over and over during practice. Chan’s stuff is so multilayered, there’s always another tiny detail he hadn’t noticed before. Thank God, honestly. There’s nothing worse than listening to something he hates for four hours every day.

He’s not the only one who stays late, one of a dozen student-ghosts floating through the halls at night. The building is never quiet. Screeches of rubber shoes on dance floors, discordant overlapping strains of music, the clang of coffee cans falling out of the vending machine. The later it gets, the more everything starts to smell like cup ramen and take on a greenish, grainy cast. Eventually, he has to take a vending-machine break too, rubbing grit out of his eyes with his hair pulled into a greasy, sweaty knot.

He squints at the pitted plastic machine, trying to decide if a burst of energy now will be worth lying awake later, too wired to sleep. He’s about to tell himself that it is, but a voice stops him before he can pull any cash out of his wallet.

“Hyunjin! You’re here late!”

Speak of the devil. The immediate brain-fry makes him fumble and drop the wallet as two simultaneous, contradictory thoughts collide mid-skull. Oh god don’t let him see me looking like this crashes into Oh good, he can finally see what I actually look like. He squeaks, “Oh, sorry, don’t— fuck—” but by the time he’s recovered enough to actually figure out what sentence that was meant to be, Chan has already scooped the wallet off the ground. Hyunjin gives up. “Hi. Sorry.”

“Hi.” Chan holds out the wallet. His eyes almost disappear when he smiles. He’s a bit of a mess, to be honest. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is sticking up in curly tufts. Hyunjin is sort of relieved. “You all right?”

“Yeah, fine, just practicing.”

“What are you having?” Chan gestures to the machine. “Can I get you something?”

“No! No.” Too loud. “I mean, that’s all right, but thanks.” He laughs, embarrassed by his own knee-jerk reaction. He hates being bought things, except by friends.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I thought I should get coffee but maybe I should just get some sleep, you know?”

Chan shrugs. “That’s probably smart. I’m gonna be dumb, though.”

He stuffs change into the machine.  Hyunjin hovers, unsure if it’s too rude to just walk away, while Chan punches buttons. Two cans of coffee clunk out. Hyunjin already said he didn’t want one, he doesn’t like it when guys do this thing where they act like they’re just being nice but then they call it in later, and he has his mouth open to refuse again—

But Chan just drops one into his hoodie pouch, pops the top off the other, and downs a good swallow. He opens his eyes very wide and smiles affably. “That’s better.”

Hyunjin laughs to cover the spreading flush of embarrassment. “Who needs sleep, right?”

“You understand me,” Chan says.

He had wanted coffee, but he feels awkward getting one after refusing the offer. Plus, now that he’s stopped moving, his muscles ache heavily. “Well. Good luck with… whatever you were doing.”

“Just messing around with some tracks,” says Chan. “Get home safe, okay?”

Hyunjin nods a few more times than he needs to and hightails it back into the practice room. He can feel Chan’s eyes on him as he goes. He packs up, feeling stupid for being so full of himself. Expecting Chan to just buy something for him out of nowhere, how selfish can Hyunjin get? Chan has never done anything to suggest he’s going to get pushy. Chan was just being nice by offering, because he’s a nice person. Everyone says that. Everyone likes Chan, he’s really popular. And so what if he stares at Hyunjin sometimes! Everyone does!

Hyunjin is always like this, and it’s horrible. Looking for things that aren’t there. Jumpy and self-absorbed. Picking apart time even with people he likes, trying to figure out an excuse not to go out again. Sometimes, he wonders what the hell is wrong with him. He wishes he could just relax. Not be so superficial all the time. Enjoy going on dates and meeting new people, instead of acting like everyone who’s nice to him has an ulterior motive.

He trudges home in the wintery drizzle, scowling at the pavement. What is wrong with him, really? He can’t even dress nice without overthinking it.  He has this red shirt in his closet that he bought a year ago because it was too beautiful not to have. He thought, at the checkout counter, that he’d wear it to meet someone special. They’d compliment him, and it would feel good. But before every date, he looks at it and then chooses something else. Something dressed-down and boring. Other people don’t do that.  Felix is magazine-gorgeous, and he’s begged Hyunjin for help a couple times, sending pictures of carefully-styled outfits. Minho wears the same track pants and t-shirt almost every day, but he has a few tighter shirts and a bag full of hair product that he uses when he knows Jisung is going to be around. When they went out, Ryujin matched her outfit with her makeup, and Daejun at least put on a nice jacket. By comparison, Hyunjin looks lazy, nearly sloppy. Disrespectful, even.  He doesn’t like that about himself.

He goes home and passes out, exhausted, and repeats the whole process again in the morning. At least he’s too busy to entertain any more plans. And at least Chan didn’t seem annoyed. The only thing worse than fending off flirting is coming off as a conceited asshole for no good reason.

Backstage before the showcase, Minho is running around, yelling at the other teams to get to their places while Hyunjin stretches next to Felix. If they go to the edge of the stage, they can see the audience from the wings. The hall is filling up. Felix keeps going over to see who’s there, bouncing on his toes.

“There’s so many people,” he hisses.

“Hamstring stretch,” Hyunjin reminds him.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Felix’s tone has Hyunjin straightening up immediately. “What? Who’s here?”

Felix points, finger shaking. “Is that—is that Seo Changbin?”

“Probably. I think he’s friends with Minho’s friends,” Hyunjin says. “How do you know him?” And then his stomach drops, because that probably means…

Yeah, Chan is there in the audience too, leaning over Changbin’s shoulder to poke at Jisung’s chest. Of course he is—they’re using his music, after all. He looks different. He looks good. All three of them are laughing. Well, Minho will be happy to see Jisung at least.

Felix shakes his head. He shakes his whole body. He’s trembling. “He’s my TA.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Changbin is the TA? Are you fucking with me?” Hyunjin practically sticks his head out from behind the curtain before Felix hauls him back by his collar. “I’ve been hearing about Seo Changbin’s arms all goddamn semester?”

“Shut up,” Felix hisses. “Wait, what the fuck, do you know him? Like, outside class?”

Hyunjin snorts. “Yeah dude, I can’t believe you haven’t seen him at Minho’s place. He’s close with Chan and Jisung I think.” 

“Fuck. Shit. What if I embarrass myself out there?”

Hyunjin takes a peek out at Chan again. He’s done his hair pushed back from his forehead. Where’s the guy with the owlet-tufts under beanies, swimming in hoodies? He’s wearing a blazer that makes his shoulders, like, lean-able. Like, Hyunjin could just put his head on them. He looks like a heartbreaker. He has never thought that about Chan before, but— well, it makes sense. Chan is popular, and not for no reason. Everyone Hyunjin knows has something good to say about him. “Well.” He swallows. “Then probably Minho will murder you before you have to face Changbin again. So you shouldn’t worry too much.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“Get over here before I throw you useless little balls of dough in the oven!” Minho yells.

They get. They stretch. They listen to the applause for the other groups, nod to everyone’s music, half-mirror the other dancers’ choreography. They pat down their clothes, tighten their shoelaces, squeeze each other’s hands once. They walk out on stage, and all eyes are on them.

Hyunjin usually hates being stared at, but not like this. On stage, he’s the one in control of everyone’s eyes. He can make them see exactly what he wants them to see. Here, their eyes and attention give him energy. They form a net, a floating web that connects him to Minho and Felix. When he snaps his shoulders, spins, flicks his hair, he can feel it pull at them and at the crowd. They’re connected to him. He’s in control.

At the end of the performance, the net pulls him out of deep water. He surfaces, and the sound of cheers slams into him. He can see Changbin and Chan and Jisung from the stage, all of them standing. Changbin and Jisung both look like they’ve been hit over the head. But Chan has both hands pumping fists in the air, whooping. He’s got this huge, gorgeous grin. At the moment, Hyunjin doesn’t think about it too much. He’s busy gasping for breath while trying to appear effortless, blood rushing through his ears, reveling in the sound of the audience. But subtly, in the background, the smile imprints itself on Hyunjin’s brain.

The afterparty for all the performers is at Minho and Chan’s apartment. Minho says he was coerced into it because he’s the team captain, but Hyunjin thinks that really, he’s just excited to show off his nice off-campus apartment and the fancy hors-d’oeuvres he made sometime between final preparations for the show. Hyunjin is still high from the performance by the time they arrive. Someone shoves a beer into his hand right inside the door. He’s tipsy in no time.

He whirls between groups, accepting compliments, pestering Minho for more drinks, exchanging groans with other dancers who reveal taped knees and bandaged feet and bruised elbows. He feels golden. He spots Felix at some point in Seo Changbin’s lap, grinning ear to ear while Changbin too-obviously attempts to stare not-too-obviously at Felix’s bare shoulders. “Yeah, Lixie!” Hyunjin yells. “Get it!” Neither of them hears him but a few people around him laugh, buoying him up further.

“NO MORE EXAMS!” one of the other dancers yells, and it starts up a chant. It fills Hyunjin up from his toes to his throat. Until the next semester, he’s free. He gets up on a chair, then the table, he’s moving free and easy and laughing and everyone there is watching him the way he likes to be watched, incredulous and open and bright and unjealous.

“Get down! You’re going to break your neck!” It’s Chan, and Hyunjin laughs down at him.

“Why should I?”

“You’re drunk, and you’re getting your feet all over my counter—Hey! We eat here!”

Hyunjin can’t stop laughing, but he does let Chan take his hand and guide him down. His hand is cooler than Hyunjin’s and a little sweaty, but his grip is firm and steadying and Hyunjin is a little drunk and for once doesn’t want to let go. He stumbles for show, so that Chan holds his hand tighter instead of releasing him once he’s on the floor. The ground spins pleasantly. Chan’s still wearing that blazer. Leanable shoulders. The only one here looking at Hyunjin with a bit of concern, instead of just interest. That’s nice. That’s really nice of him, actually.

“Chan-hyung, I think you’re all right,” Hyunjin says. He doesn’t know where the split-second judgement came from, or if he’s allowed to say that, or if he should talk to Chan so familiarly, but that’s the thing. Chan has never been creepy. And he isn’t competitive or sharp, unlike the dancers. And his music!

Chan wrinkles his nose, and it’s cute— how did Hyunjin not notice that he’s so cute! His head spins. “I’m glad you think so, but how much have you had to drink?” Other eyes on him are starting to shift from a safe, buoyant audience to hungry, greedy, interested. Suddenly, Hyunjin doesn’t want to spend another second in the crowd.

“It’s hot! It’s too hot, we should go outside.”

Chan frowns. “Uh—”

Hyunjin frowns back. After all the staring, he’d thought Chan would jump at the chance to get him on his own. “You won’t make me go outside all alone, will you?”

The frown melts into rolled eyes. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“I know that,” Hyunjin says, delighted. His mind flashes back to that date last month, Hyunjin, you’re so easygoing. This is better.

The apartment has two little balconies—one off the living room, which is full of girls blowing smoke at the air, and another off of Minho’s bedroom, which is empty on pain of death. But that’s where Chan leads him anyways. They squeeze through the sliding glass door and shut out the party inside.

“It’s freezing,” Hyunjin hisses.

“You’re the one who wanted to come outside,” Chan says.

“I thought alcohol was supposed to warm you up.”

Chan huffs and says, “Wait a sec.”

He’s gone and back in forty seconds, now with a huge black hoodie that he pushes into Hyunjin’s arms. “Hyung, that’s such a dad move,” Hyunjin laughs. Chan didn’t actually ever say he could call him ‘hyung’, but he goes red and turns away while Hyunjin shoves the hoodie over his head. “It’s not bad,” Hyunjin clarifies, wriggling his fingertips to the ends of the sleeves.

“Sorry, should’ve just let you freeze to death out here,” Chan says.

“Mm. I’m immune to cold.”

“That why were you shivering?”

Hyunjin grins. “You know, when I was little, we used to have a hot tub?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, in the winter, when it was snowing, I used to get in and then when I was too hot, I’d jump out and run around and roll in the snow in my swim shorts.”

Chan laughs in surprise. “You’re kidding.”

“And then when I was freezing I’d jump back into the tub again. It stung so bad, it made my legs go bright red.” What is he rambling about? He hardly even knows Chan. But they’re leaning on the balcony railing together anyways. The air swirls with glitter, the faintest hint of snow.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get frostbite,” Chan says. He’s looking right at Hyunjin now, like he’s waiting for him to tell another story, lay out his life in tiny anecdotes. His eyes are so warm—Hyunjin realizes this is the first time they’ve ever spoken one-on-one like this. Hyunjin launches into another, talks about skiing with his family, getting off at the wrong bus stop and having to lug his gear up the hill, bursting into terrified tears when a stranger offered him a ride back to the hotel.

Chan doesn’t ask why Hyunjin is talking about this useless stuff after months of freezing him out. He leans in and laughs and widens his bright eyes in the right places. He says, “Do you know, I’ve never been skiing at all—have you ever tried surfing?” He’s got this little smile and this broad, intelligent interest.

“Never. What’s it like?”

Okay, so, it’s not like Hyunjin hasn’t noticed that people love Chan. They’re always saying nice things about him. He just hadn’t been totally sure why. He’s only caught glimpses of Chan, usually exhausted or nervous or busy. But this is why. This version of him, this crisp, fresh, inviting attention. Everyone Chan talks to must feel this way. They must all want his attention the way Hyunjin wants it right now. And Hyunjin is getting it. For no reason at all. Maybe just because Chan likes the way his waist looks in his black trousers. Maybe just because Chan thinks he has nice hair. For once, it hardly matters. He feels more drunk than ever, and he can’t stop giggling over his own stories. He pulls the sleeves of Chan’s hoodie over his fingertips and watches their breath mingle in the cold streetlight below as they talk.

“Hey, Channie-hyung.” Hyunjin rolls the familiarity around in his mouth. Because Chan didn’t tell him he couldn’t, so why not? “I never thanked you.”

“For what?” Chan laughs.

“For your music. For the showcase.”

“Oh, that’s nothing.” Chan waves a hand vaguely. “I give those to Minho all the time. It’s basically a showcase for me, too. Exposure and all that.”

“It’s really good, though,” Hyunjin says.

“I should be thanking you. You danced so— so— I mean, so well.” Is Hyunjin imagining it, or are Chan’s cheeks red again?

“Because of your songs,” he insists. “I never got sick of them. That’s saying something, you know? I still can’t listen to the ones I used for last year’s performances. They make me want to put a brick through a window.”

Chan rubs the back of his neck. “I’m glad I could help.”

Chan makes him pause long enough to slip inside and return with a glass of water. While he’s gone, Hyunjin watches his breath puff out into the air. His head swims pleasingly. Warmth swirls around his chest and pushes out to his skin, his fingertips, gets bitten away with the playful sting of frosty air. He can’t believe how wrong he was. Chan isn’t stare-y eyed, he’s attentive. He’s been nervous around Hyunjin, but now Hyunjin can see that the nerves had been going both ways. He’s been unfair; that’s the price of being so on-edge all the time. But Chan didn’t notice, maybe. Or if he did, all is forgiven. He wouldn’t listen so carefully or have such warm eyes if he was holding a grudge against Hyunjin for being standoffish. And if Chan did want to flirt a little, well…

Hyunjin has never been turned down for a date, so he doesn’t put too much stock in subtlety. When Chan comes back and gives him the water, Hyunjin says, “Do you think I’m hot?”

“Uh.” Chan laughs and rubs the back of his neck again. “I mean, I think you’re beautiful. You’re really beautiful.”

It trips him up. He doesn’t know why exactly the distinction makes him feel so warm. Maybe it’s because Chan says it so earnestly. Maybe it’s because Chan doesn’t try to qualify it with anything else, none of that, but you’re also really nice! nonsense. It’s that, the warmth, the surprise, that knocks him off balance. He’d normally follow that kind of question with another—wanna get to know me better? Wanna go out sometime? but instead, he just laughs. He can’t get the words out.

After the showcase, he spends three weeks at home for the new year, being coddled and patted on the cheeks a lot by his grandmother and her friends. It makes him feel even younger than he is. When he gets back to campus, he finds himself hiding in his hooded coat and pulling the sleeves over his fingertips like he’s still sixteen. It still feels strange transitioning from home life, where he’s babied and bossed around, to campus life, where he’s an adult, expected to do things on his own. He’s still in that weird in-between headspace in the afternoon, when he decides to leave off unpacking and get a coffee. Coffee always makes him feel a little more normal. The café is humming gently as he sits. Next to him, there’s a girl in blue and a boy in yellow, leaning towards each other like he’s a sunflower and she the bright side of the sky.

The caffeine hasn’t had the chance to kick in yet when he spots a familiar mess of hair approaching the counter. Hyunjin sinks further into his seat. He is very much not sure if he wants Chan to see him again. He’d chattered so much on the balcony at the afterparty. Looking back sober, it’s a little embarrassing. Chan had probably been indulging him. Hyunjin is so self-absorbed. He doesn’t even remember if Chan told any stories about himself.

The barista obviously knows Chan, or wants to know him better. He talks in a low voice, with a matching smile. Hyunjin sees him touch Chan’s hand when he forks over the receipt. Even from behind, Hyunjin can tell Chan is smiling back.

The table next to him have noticed, too. “Oh, I can’t watch this,” the girl says gleefully. “I hate seeing people strike out.”

“What makes you think he’s gonna strike out?” the boy asks. “That’s Bang Chan, right?”

“Don’t look!” They break into muffled giggles. Hyunjin sinks lower, his stomach churning. He likes gossip as much as the next person, but something about watching Chan get a guy’s number while the coffee shop vultures peck at the information doesn’t sit right.

They’re whispering too loud to ignore though. “What, you think he doesn’t swing that way? Wasn’t he with Kim Hongjoong for like, all of last year?” This is news to Hyunjin. He tries not to look like he’s eavesdropping.

“Ye-es,” says the girl. “Well….”

Chan has turned away from the counter now, and he’s not smiling anymore. The movement makes the girl stop talking. He picks up four packets of sugar and leaves. Hyunjin straightens his spine out and winces. Now there’s no possibility of talking to Chan, Hyunjin wants to again.

The barista looks disappointed. There’s one thing they’ve got in common. And another thing—neither of them measure up to much next to Kim Hongjoong. Hyunjin has seen him around, heard him around. He’s one of the art department stars. He’s got some crazy high-powered internship at an international design company and he won the contest to create the logo for the university’s school of business. The barista, bless him for trying, does not look like that kind of guy.

Neither does Hyunjin. He’s abruptly so glad he didn’t manage to ask Chan out at the party. Even if Chan is into him, or the way he looks at least, he probably wouldn’t consider anything serious with Hyunjin. Three years younger, no impressive accomplishments, nothing interesting to talk about beyond his childhood ski trips.

He goes back to his dorm, feeling further snowed into his own thoughts than before.

The haze clears day by day. By the time the new school year actually begins, he’s ready for it. Dance practice again, a blessing. New classes, familiar professors. Back to making decisions. Back to being an adult. Back to Minho inviting him and Felix over for breakfast before late-morning practice. Hyunjin doesn’t let himself hesitate before accepting the invitation. He didn’t embarrass himself that badly at the afterparty. At least he didn’t give Chan the chance to sleep with him and then fuck off for someone more impressive. And Chan seems like a forgiving kind of guy, right?

Minho’s apartment is all winter sunlight and thriving indoor plants on February mornings. It’s silvery and warm and smells sharply of kimchi and onion. He’s made abalone porridge and egg rolls, but Felix picks up a muffin.  

“Sweets for breakfast? You’ll never be Korean that way,” Minho scolds.

“I’ll never be Korean anyways,” Felix pouts back. “Do you know what it takes to get citizenship? Even if you have family here?”

“Let the guy have some comforts of home, hyung, jeez,” Hyunjin yawns. He’s too sleepy to wonder much if Chan is awake yet. He shovels down porridge. 

Minho wanders off to pack a bag for the day and Hyunjin lets himself into the bathroom. When he comes back into the kitchen, he stops, taken aback.

Seo Changbin is there. He’d been at the dance showcase, too. Sitting with Chan. Now, he’s washing his face in the kitchen sink while Felix stares at his back, mouth open, crumbs on his face.

Changbin looks exhausted when he turns around. Just woke up, or stayed up all night? “Oh, hi,” says Hyunjin. Something in his chest thuds dully, horribly into place. “Did you… sleep here?”

“Sort of,” Changbin grunts.

Sort of. Hyunjin shoots a look at Felix. Felix, who has managed to mention Changbin at least once a day every day for six months, despite barely having spoken to him. Felix, who swallows and says, “Oh. You and Channie-hyung are—close, yeah,” without looking away from Hyunjin.

Hyunjin has the nonsensical vision of himself and Felix sitting and crying into a tub of ice cream together. Idiotic.

“Relax, you two,” says Minho from behind Changbin, pushing his way in. Hyunjin is relaxed, he’s so relaxed, he’s fine, and then Minho says, “They were working on music and Chan’s asexual.”

Hyunjin is no longer relaxed.

Felix stutters something, caught between English and Korean. Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Wait. Seriously?” That can’t be right. That can’t be right.

Minho is enjoying the surprise. “Yeah, did you think he was just exceptionally respectful or something?”

Hyunjin’s tongue trips over the protest, brain too slow to catch up. “But he isn’t. I mean, he’s not like, rude.” Per say. It doesn’t make any sense. “But then—how do you explain—I mean, what’s with all the staring, then?”

Now Minho is really grinning—Hyunjin has no idea what to make of that, actually. The coffee shop conversation is reorienting itself in his head. His opinion of the girl retrospectively goes down four or five notches. “Oh, I don’t know,” Minho is talking way too loudly. “You should probably ask him. Not when I’m in earshot, though. Because if I have to listen to another lecture on aesthetic attraction, I’m going to aesthetically paint someone’s brains all over the hallway.”

Hyunjin has no idea what that means. His stomach is full of ice. He should’ve just said, Oh, that’s cool, not that I care. But every thought he’s had about Chan in the last six months is getting slammed into this new framework all at once.

Oh god. He has been so stupid.

And then from his room, Chan yells, “ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING TALKING ABOUT ME RIGHT NOW?” Oh god, he’s listening, oh god he’s been listening. Hyunjin frantically looks around to locate his shoes.

Minho shouts back, “YEAH, HYUNJIN WANTS TO KNOW IF AND IN WHAT WAY YOU FIND HIM PRETTY.”

Hyunjin is going to murder Minho in his sleep. He can’t feel his fingertips, he’s so embarrassed. Chan doesn’t find him pretty, Chan isn’t into him, Chan probably isn’t into anyone, and Hyunjin has been projecting his own idiotic insecurities onto this very nice person this whole time.

Changbin looks like he’s about to start laughing.

 Minho adds, “We’re going to be late to practice.” Hyunjin can’t get out the door fast enough. Minho yells an invitation to lunch over his shoulder to Changbin—that’s good, Felix will be happy and Hyunjin will suffer in peace.

How could he possibly have misread everything so badly?

Hyunjin wallows in the humiliation for days. He’s such an idiot. This is way worse than asking your two best friends if they only like you because you’re hot—thinking that the asexual guy is hitting on you for a full semester really takes the cake. He feels like he should apologize. Just go to Chan, brace himself, and say sorry for being such a self-centered moron. But he doesn’t have anything concrete to say he’s sorry for. Wouldn’t that just be dredging up trouble for no reason? And anyways, he and Chan are only acquaintances because of Minho. They barely know each other. So really, this is a non-issue. If Chan really is ace, he probably doesn’t have any interest in Hyunjin at all. If anything, Hyunjin should probably be apologizing for stealing so much food from his and Minho’s fridge.

Hyunjin is not satisfied with this. He stares at his ceiling all night, so frustrated he could yell. What a wasted opportunity. Without the nervousness of trying to avoid accidental flirting, he can see the shape of things better. And the shape of things is this: he abruptly, desperately wants to be Chan’s friend. He should be friends with Chan. Chan is popular. He’s kind, and he can hold a decent conversation. He makes amazing music. They’re only not friends because Hyunjin has been so skittish, and there wasn’t even anything to be skittish about. Chan reached out more than once! Chan was probably nervous enough to drop things when Hyunjin came over to their house because Hyunjin was so unfriendly! Hyunjin feels more possessive over the lost opportunity for friendship than he ever has over being stood up on a date.

What an asshole. What an asshole. God, no wonder Jisung doesn’t like him either (never mind that Hyunjin doesn’t even want Jisung to like him, really). Chan’s probably been telling Jisung about how rude Hyunjin is….

He’s got to fix it. Somehow, he’s got to try to start over and hope that Chan is as affable and forgiving as everyone says he is. And if he’s lucky, no one will ever bring up what a moron Hyunjin has been about the whole thing.

He knocks on the door of the campus music studio Chan always takes at ten to midnight. It’s so late because he was dancing, he tells himself, but actually it’s because he was trying to figure out what to say. It was a wasted effort. As soon as Chan swings the door open, Hyunjin blurts out, “You make cool shit!”

Chan rubs his eyes. “Uh, hi? Oh! Hi!” He takes a step back. “Hyunjin! I didn’t—what are you doing here this late?”

Hyunjin tamps down the rising panicked embarrassment that tells him he should cut and run. “Music, I mean. God, sorry. I meant that you make really cool music. Like I said after the showcase.”

Chan frowns at him, probably because it’s almost midnight and he’s probably exhausted and Hyunjin is just standing around for no reason looking nervous and greasy and rambling, again. “I’m glad you liked it. Do you need another track for something? A dance?”

“No, actually—” Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “Actually, I was wondering if maybe you could teach me the program you use to make music.”

Chan blinks at him. It takes him a minute to open his mouth. This was dumb, he’s probably really busy—why else would he always be here until midnight or later? But finally, he says, “Do you want to come in?”

Chan, it turns out, is thrilled to have someone to show his software. Hyunjin is so relieved he could cry. He knows he’s just reacting to what everyone sees in Chan, this compelling charisma that Hyunjin and the rest of the world just want to be close to. But Chan actually seems happy to have company. He invites Hyunjin to come back the next day, with this huge smile like he can’t believe his luck, rather than like he’s doing Hyunjin an incredible service by even spending time with him. So Hyunjin comes back, and then he comes back again, and then somehow, he gets used to Chan greeting him with a smile.

The blinking and the pauses get more frequent when Chan has had less sleep, Hyunjin learns. But even when he’s slow, he’s patient. When he’s more awake, or more wired on caffeine, he’s enthusiastic. Hyunjin had a passing interest in music production before, more like a curiosity than a genuine desire to learn, but it’s impossible to stay stoic while facing the brunt of Chan’s excitement.

“No one ever lets me talk about this shit,” Chan says at two in the morning the next Tuesday (well, Wednesday). “Minho tries to lock me in my room if I even mention mixing software.”

“Pretty hypocritical of him if he uses your tracks for his performances,” Hyunjin says.

“Nah, Changbin and Jisung help with a bunch of those, too.”

“Definitely a hypocrite. He’ll let Jisung talk about whatever he wants.”

Chan snorts. “Yeah, he would.”

It’s so comfortable working with Chan. Even Hyunjin can’t make things awkward. It’s sort of unbelievable. One day, he was tossing and turning in his bed, trying to figure out how to make Chan not hate him, and the next, he’s twirling around in Chan’s fancy swivel-chair, learning how to layer a good bassline.

As the weeks press on, Hyunjin sees more of him, both in and out of the little room on the fourth floor of the music building. Minho has decided that Hyunjin eats shit, and so keeps inviting him round for random meals. Chan has stopped hiding away in his room whenever he comes over—which means that Hyunjin sees a lot more of Jisung as well. When he asks where Changbin is (“Isn’t he in on your little music production scheme?”), one or two or all three of them roll their eyes and respond with some variation of, “Driving Felix all over town.” It makes Hyunjin smile to hear it, so he keeps asking.

When he sits next to Chan in the studio, comfortable and familiar, Hyunjin feels smug. It worked—it actually worked, and they’re properly friends, just like he wanted. And he’s learning the basics of music production, which is more interesting than anything else going on this semester. The smugness fades out to something softer, soon. It’s hard to stay self-centered around Chan. He doesn’t talk about himself much, but Hyunjin wants to know more anyways.

In the daytime, around groups especially, Chan is gregarious. He’s outgoing, he has something for everyone. He always knows what to say, and he always says it with the right blend of good humor and unabashed interest. Everyone always leans towards Chan when he speaks, because he does the same for them. Everyone wants to hear what he has to say and pour their hearts out to him. It makes sense that everyone loves him.

But when he’s really tired, when everyone goes away and it’s just Hyunjin left hanging around hoping to go over one of the tracks he’s been trying his hand at, sometime in the five-minute gaps between projects and programs, that’s when Chan isn’t outgoing. That’s when Hyunjin gets to learn things about him, every once in a while.

Spicy food makes him cry. “It’s so embarrassing. Minho like, weaponizes it when he’s mad at me.”

He wants to just do music forever. “I bet I’ll just end up a professor though. I like teaching, so that’s cool.”  

He had a girlfriend in high school. They broke up when he moved away. “She’s in culinary school. We’ve still got this awful contest going of who can take the most photos of our meals, so I bet she knows everything I eat. That’s super weird, right? She’s dope though.”

He’s banking on Minho starting a dance company, so that he can run the sound system and make some extra cash. “You think being a professor pays well? Need cash for equipment.”

He entered one of his tracks in a contest. If it’s chosen, it’ll be on Kim Seungmin’s new album. “Not going to happen. His voice, though!”

He was the one to end things with design student extraordinaire, Kim Hongjoong, even though everyone says it was mutual. “It’s not really a big deal.”

Hyunjin wants to ask more, but he doesn’t. Especially not about the last one. It’s pretty obvious from the way that Chan talks about it that he really liked Hongjoong. They were together for more than a year. For his part, Hyunjin would rather die than have to explain his last four (five, six?) breakups, and those were only after a few dates. Hardly even breakups.

Mostly, though, it’s funny and light and easy to spend time with Chan. He likes being there late at night the best. When he gets tired of messing with the tracks, he doesn’t get tired of watching Chan.

One night in early April, he’s given up trying to work and just stretched out on the couch, eyes closed and listening to Chan click through something. The computer hums gently. Chan keeps the lights low when Hyunjin doesn’t have any paper to read, so it’s dim, and Hyunjin is sleepy and content.

After a while, Chan starts to hum, and then to sing. He has a smooth tone, surprisingly high. He’s singing in English so Hyunjin doesn’t catch every word, but he can understand most of it. It’s a love song. It’s sweet and melodic. What if Chan sang like that to him? But that’s stupid. He shakes himself a little more awake.

“You have a nice voice,” he mumbles.

Chan jerks his head around and coughs. “Oh, jeez. Sorry. I thought you were sleeping.”

“Mmhm. Only a little.”

Chan smiles. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“You didn’t. What’s that song?”

Chan shows him the track— not one of his own, for once. His mouth twists, not quite a smile. Like it’s a secret, he says, “I like to sing love songs to myself, sometimes.”

It’s not what Hyunjin was expecting. Chan’s looking at the computer, not him, so Hyunjin takes him in fully. Chan’s tired, a little stretched-thin. He’s always a little more honest like this. Then Chan adds, “Hongjoong used to say it made me frigid.”

A cold wash goes through Hyunjin’s stomach. “I think that it’s lovely,” he says.

“It was only a joke. I did go cold on him.” They’re silent in the low light for a minute. Hyunjin doesn’t know what else to say. He’s pretty stupid, but he doesn’t think it’s good form to bad-mouth someone’s ex. Even if their ‘jokes’ do make him want to throw something out a window.

“You don’t think that I’m cold, do you?” Chan’s voice is casual and even. Hyunjin, abruptly, feels his eyes sting. Is this what it’s like for Chan all the time? Having people assume he’s heartless? Those dumb kids in the café, whispering about him? His own boyfriend?

“Hyung, no. That’s ridiculous.” He tries to keep his voice equally steady, but he can hear the tremor in it. “You’re the warmest person I’ve ever met.”

Chan laughs. Is it strained, or is Hyunjin just imagining it? “Please. You know Felix, right?”  

“Felix isn’t warm like you,” Hyunjin says seriously, sitting up. His throat hurts. “He’s bright. He’s bubbly, you know? Like soda in the summer, right?”

“That’s a good way of putting it.”

“But you’re—you’re like walking in the sun together. That’s how I feel when I’m with you.” Chan meets his eyes then, wide, and Hyunjin’s tears suddenly spill over. He turns away. “Oh, god, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m upset.”

“Hyunjin, it’s okay.”

“It’s stupid, people shouldn’t say that kind of thing to you.”

“Hey—”

“Fuck! I’m sorry. I’m being such an idiot, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Out of nowhere, Chan wraps him up in a hug so tight and warm that Hyunjin literally can’t speak.  “Thanks,” he says quietly.  

“I didn’t do anything,” Hyunjin says when Chan loosens his grip enough for him to breathe. He scrubs quickly at his eyes.

Chan shakes his head. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he says.

Hyunjin is embarrassed for days. He doesn’t know why. He feels like there was something he was supposed to say and he didn’t manage it, but whatever it was doesn’t come to him. But he’s embarrassed about crying, too. Nothing even happened to him.

When he sees Chan again, the embarrassment dissipates. Chan’s so easy to read, so pleased to see him. He grabs Hyunjin in a hug when he knocks on the studio door, then sits him down and starts on a detailed rant about autotune, complete with footnotes.

After a while, he convinces Chan to leave the studio and come with him to the dance practice rooms. He’s not falling behind in practice exactly, but his body is too full of energy. This time last year, he was preparing for a second showcase. But this year, they’ve got a break in performances until midsummer. Chan brings his laptop and works in the corner, watching Hyunjin as he types.

It feels nice. It’s easier to be kind to himself with Chan watching. He gets less frustrated about his mistakes. And he gets a hint of the kind of attention he likes best, admiration without possessiveness.

After that, he convinces Chan to switch between the music and dance studios more often. He threatens to teach Chan a real pirouette, and then in the next few weeks he actually teaches him a tiktok dance that’s been going around. Chan’s got decent rhythm as a musician, but laughs too hard and too often to really sell the performance.

Hyunjin saves the videos they take. He doesn’t post any of them. He likes seeing Chan like this, red-faced with laughter and falling over himself. He likes being the only one to see it.

It’s spring again. Hyunjin figures he should work on a bit of self-improvement, so he’s started up with the dates again. Getting ready, his fingers dance over the red shirt in his closet. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t put it on, but after each one, he’s a little glad he didn’t bother. One girl is way too nice for him. The next guy has an alarming dark humor that Hyunjin can’t tell from actual existential dread. This time, it’s a guy called Jinyoung who spent the first three weeks of their shared class making eyes at Hyunjin over graph paper.

At the end of the night, though, he’s back at the dance studio with Minho, who’s winding down after a solo practice. “He told me I have ‘a blowjob mouth’. Who says that kind of thing on a first date?” Hyunjin snaps. He’d had no idea how to respond. Thanks? Sorry? What’s it to you?

“Wow,” Minho says mildly, stretching his hamstring.

“God. Sorry. I’m just being dramatic.” Hyunjin runs a hand over his face.

“So what else is new?” Minho starts on his neck. “That guy is from your stats class, right? Jisung doesn’t like him.”

Hyunjin scowls. “Well, good for him. He didn’t go on the date.”

“Let’s get ice cream,” Minho says.

They get convenience store popsicles and sit on the steps outside. It’s warm even in the evenings now, and Minho looks like a contented panther in the dying sunlight.  

“I told him he was being too forward and he dropped it,” Hyunjin is saying. “Anyways, maybe he’ll be better next time.”

Minho’s gaze whips around. He stares holes in the side of Hyunjin’s head. “You’re going out with him again?”

“Well, yeah.” Hyunjin huffs. “Don’t look at me like that, c’mon.”

“Do you usually go on second dates with people you didn’t like the first time?” Minho asks sharply.  

Hyunjin scowls at his tone. “Look dude, it takes time to get to know someone. I always hate first dates. Maybe he’s really nice and I’m just an asshole.”

Minho is silent for a moment. Then he mutters, “Maybe you’re really nice and he’s just an asshole.”

Hyunjin shrugs uncomfortably and tilts his head back. Maybe he should’ve gone to Chan’s studio instead. Except he doesn’t know how to talk about this kind of thing with Chan. Minho can be harsh, but he’s not easy to shock.  

Minho bumps their shoulders together, more gently than normal. “It’s okay to just not click with someone. With most people, even. You can just… not. Even if you don’t have a good excuse.” Easy for Minho to say. He never does anything that makes him the least bit uncomfortable.

“If I don’t give it a chance, I’ll never click with anyone,” Hyunjin tells the sky. Two telephone lines cross over them, cutting the sky into segmented squares. Deep, inky blue straight above, fading to a soft dove-grey where the city rises to meet them. He turns the thought over in his head. You don’t have to go on second dates.

Of course he doesn’t. It’s silly to think he does. He knows he doesn’t. He can say no when it matters—that’s why he’s here with Minho and not back at Jinyoung’s shitty dorm room trying to cajole his shitty roommate into leaving them alone for a few hours.

You don’t have to go on second dates. 

But then he’ll never go on any nice dates. He hates first dates.

Then again, what good second date has he been on lately, either? Ryujin, maybe, but he’s been enjoying complaining loudly about dance routines by the vending machines more than he enjoyed paying for her coffee and scrambling for appropriate compliments.

You don’t have to go on first dates, either, his mind supplies for him.

He glances at Minho for a second, who is eating his ice cream quietly and letting Hyunjin think. And he remembers Chan’s smooth voice in the studio, singing a love song to himself. What must that be like, to sing a love song to yourself and really mean it? To not picture someone else? His throat hurts because the ice cream is so cold, and it’s not good to eat very cold things when the weather is hot, it shocks your system, and then his eyes blur the clouds out.

He doesn’t want Minho to notice, stupidly, even though he has ice cream in his hand so he can’t cover his face. He just tilts his head further back and tries to catch hold of himself, but he can’t, he can’t, he can’t hold on to himself at all. His teeth are chattering, that’s the worst part of crying—it makes him feel cold.

“Jinnie, oh—”

Hyunjin gives up on the ice cream, just puts it on the concrete step next to him and buries his face in his hands. His shoulders are shaking.

“Hey, do you want a hug?” asks Minho. A heat of relief floods his chest. A little decision to make for himself. It makes him cry harder, gritted teeth, shuddering breaths. He shakes his head, not because he doesn’t want to be touched, but because he just wants to refuse something. “All right,” Minho says. And he just stays where he is, right next to Hyunjin, within reach and not reaching out. After a moment, Hyunjin grabs his hand and laces their fingers together. Minho lets Hyunjin press his forehead to their hands in his lap and slowly get ahold of himself.

“I must look so stupid right now,” Hyunjin hiccups when his throat isn’t too raw to speak again.

“Yeah,” Minho tells him. “Your hair does look a little stupid.”

Hyunjin laughs shakily. “God. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Minho says calmly.

Hyunjin sniffs. “I’m just being an idiot. Like, I know I don’t have to go on another date. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Minho echoes. “Just tell him you have plans.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. You think you’re off the hook for dance practices? And I’m sure Channie-hyung or Felix would help set you up with an alibi.”

Hyunjin laughs. Then he sniffs again. “Can I have the hug now?”

Minho squeezes him. It feels good to be touched in a simple way, even though Hyunjin normally doesn’t like much contact. Minho doesn’t pull away first. He just lets Hyunjin sit there and be hugged for as long as he wants to.

“I think,” Hyunjin says into his shoulder. “I need another ice cream.”

He pulls back. Minho gives him a sly smile. “Fine, but you’re paying.”

When Jinyoung texts him later, Hyunjin stares at it for a long time. The predictive text on his phone already has Sure! suggested. His thumb hovers over it.

It takes him fifteen minutes to type, sorry, I’ve got plans with a friend already.

The reply comes right away. I didn’t even suggest a time??

Hyunjin laughs. He’s screwed it up already. That’s so nice, it means he doesn’t have to try to be tactful about it.

Another text comes through. What about tues? or another day?

it’s every day. all-consuming. sorry.

He deletes Jinyoung’s number. It’s a relief.

There’s a profile and interview with Kim Hongjoong in the campus newsletter. He’s won another design award. There’s a picture of him grinning next to the school president. He looks exactly like the type of person someone as popular as Chan should be dating.

Hyunjin wants to ignore it but he can’t. He reads the whole thing start to finish, and ends up with less information than he started with. The interview actually mentions Chan—twice. Hongjoong said he helped with his logo color schemes. Credit where credit is due! I was lucky to spend time with friends like Chan. You know, the people really do make the university. And then later, I did almost all of my design work with Bang Chan’s music on in the background. He’s on Soundcloud, people!

It doesn’t read like Hongjoong is holding a candle for Chan anymore, or bearing a grudge. It grates on Hyunjin for some reason. His curiosity gets the better of him.

“Did you read this?” he asks Chan in the studio later.

Chan frowns at the paper. “Um. No. It didn’t seem like something I needed to see.”

Hyunjin is an idiot. “Right. Sorry.”

“How come? Am I in it or something?”

“Uh. Yeah, actually. He recommended your Soundcloud.”

Chan takes the paper and scans it. He smiles. Hyunjin can’t read it—wistful, or just pleased? “Good for him,” he says after a minute.

“It’s so weird you’re not together, you seem to match well,” Hyunjin says. And then immediately, “Oh, god! No. Jeez. Please ignore me.”

Chan laughs, startled. “You’re curious why we broke up?”

“I’m not! I mean. I really don’t need to know.”

“No, it’s okay.” Chan sets the paper aside and shrugs bluntly. “I guess I was just tired of feeling like I was disappointing.”

White fire catches Hyunjin’s throat. “How could he—did he make you think—”

“No, he’d never say something like that.” Chan glances at the paper and his mouth twists into another type of smile. “He’s a good person, you know? But I could tell. I was never moving fast enough for him. And at some point, I figured out that I was never going to catch up.”

Hyunjin stares at him for a moment. “You are not disappointing,” he says. Too fiercely, too loudly, because Chan laughs.

“Not if you set your expectations right.”

“No,” Hyunjin snaps. “Not at all.”

Chan’s smile slips. “That was almost a year ago now, did you know that?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. He’s afraid if he opens his mouth again, he’ll start yelling, and Chan’s not the person he’s mad at. He isn’t even sure why he’s mad.

“I’m okay, Hyunjinnie.” Chan puts the smile back on. “Thank you. You don’t have to look out for me, though. I know.”

Hyunjin nods. But he thinks to himself that Chan is stupid. No one should have to adjust their expectations to like Chan. What kind of insane expectations did you have to have to not like him? He takes a few deep breaths and shoves the paper into the recycling bin.

Chan grades student work for the next few hours. Hyunjin is half-heartedly researching an essay. The afternoon pulls the energy and curiosity out of him. After a while, he’s back to feeling lazy, and just glad to be here. He’s glad Chan isn’t with Hongjoong anymore, and decides it doesn’t matter why, because it means that he can take up Chan’s time instead. Some part of him thinks it’s silly to be possessive like that, but then, why not? Why not, when Chan seems to like having him around anyways?

Hyunjin ends up lying half-off the couch with a book dangling from his hand, legs stretched all the way up the back and feet tapping the wall. After a while, he lets the book fall to the floor and watches Chan for a minute. He’s clicking through scores, looking completely focused. Hyunjin closes his eyes and just listens to the hum of the computer and the rustle of fabric as Chan moves around. He wants to keep himself here in this warm, comfortable, dark space. And then apropos of nothing, Chan says, “You know, the thing about Hongjoong…” It’s the first thing he’s said in over an hour.

“Hm?” Hyunjin asks. He keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to give away that he’s still burning with curiosity. He doesn’t have any right to.

“I’m not a prude, you know?”

Hyunjin sucks in a quick breath. He does think it would be difficult to be friends with Jisung and his endless stream of that’s-what-she-said jokes and also be a prude, so he hums in agreement.

“And it’s not like I don’t like dating, or like I’m not into… romantic shit, you know? And it’s not even like I’ve never had sex,” says Chan. “And it’s not horrible. And I like my body, I’m not ashamed of the way I look. But…” He stops and makes a frustrated sound.

Hyunjin keeps his eyes closed and lets his head turn back and forth a little from where it’s hanging upside down off the edge of the couch. His hair sways. He doesn’t prompt Chan. It feels invasive to even be curious.

Chan finishes the thought. “It’s just like, my body is mine, you know? It belongs to me. I’m not required to share, and I didn’t want to anymore. I don’t want to anymore.”

Hyunjin lets his breath out and continues to let his head sway. He can feel his hair move, the follicles tugging a tiny bit. He can feel the stretch across his Adam’s apple with how far his head is bent back. No one else will ever feel that. No one else gets to know the flex of his thighs when he dances, or feel the way sweat-damp hair sits on his neck after he finishes a routine. No one else knows how his left eye twitches when he’s tired, no one else knows the particular unknotting of his spine when he curls up at night. And they never will. No matter if he has sex with them a thousand times, no one else will ever know those things.

“I think I get that,” he says quietly.

After a long minute, Chan adds, “It’s not like I don’t love people.”

Hyunjin squeezes his eyes shut tight. “I know, hyungie.”

Hyunjin’s finals schedule is easy. It’s the easiest semester he’s had since starting university, and he spends more time staring out windows and writing lyrics for a track that Chan might actually help him record than he does working. He’s not going on dates. He tells himself that it’s because everyone else is busy with finals, but there are an awful lot of other people are basking in the sunlight in the campus café.

Chan, on the other hand, is swamped. Hyunjin stays up with him a few nights, but he can’t keep up the insane schedule Chan’s got on, even with not much of his own to do. Besides, whenever he’s around, Chan is trying to be a good host instead of doing the work that’s clearly grinding him into the dirt. So Hyunjin spends a bit more time in the dance rooms and less in the music studio, and tries to remember what he did with his time before it was all just Chan, telling him stories and making him music and doing tiktok dances that he never posts.

It was boring, he concludes. His life has been boring. And Minho is busy, too, so he can’t even hang out with him and the dance crew the same way.

He’s not the only one at loose ends while the grad students struggle, though.

He hardly realized how long it’s been since he and Felix have hung out until he pushes open the door of his normal practice room and he’s there, spread out on his back with an open textbook beside his head.

“Yo!” he calls when Hyunjin comes in. “Wanna run through some moves?”

Hyunjin hugs him hard. “Let’s go.”

They practice for an hour or so, until they’re both sweating and Felix claims he’s expended enough energy to return to his textbook. He does more flipping idly through pages than reading, though, so Hyunjin doesn’t feel bad about interrupting.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you outside of practice in months.”

“Sorry.” Felix smiles brightly. “I did miss you. I’ve just been hanging out with Changbin-hyung a lot.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Everyone knows.”

“Everyone knows you’ve been hanging out with Channie-hyung a lot,” Felix adds.

“He’s teaching me to use his music software.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How’s things with Changbin?”

Felix smiles down at the textbook. “Oh. It’s good. He—you know.”

“Is hot and buff? Yeah, I’m aware, you’ve talked about nothing else all year.”

Felix closes the book and re-opens it to a random page. “He told me he’s in love with me.”

Hyunjin chokes on his water. “Holy shit, dude! Congratulations.”

Felix wrinkles his nose. “I don’t know if that’s what you say in this scenario?”

“Are you guys like, together now?”

“No,” Felix says.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows go up. “No? What are you waiting for? Why not?”

Felix points a highlighter at him. “Just because someone says they’re in love with you, that doesn’t make it a good match. You should know that.”

“Why should I know that?”

“Chaeryoung said she was in love with you during class last week. Does that make you two a good match?”

“She wasn’t being serious.” Actually, it had barely even registered in his brain.

“Bet she was,” Felix says. “Jeongin looked heartbroken.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, fine, point taken. So it’s not a good match? You and Changbin?”

“I’m waiting to see,” Felix says confidently.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes again, but secretly he’s a little proud of Felix for being so guarded.

“Anyways,” Felix says, “What about you and Channie-hyung, huh?”

“What about us?”

“Are you guys, like, together now?” Felix mimics him.

“Uh. No? You know Chan’s ace, right?”

“Yeah. I am friends with him, you know.”

“Well, then you should know that we’re not together,” Hyunjin says calmly. His heart is beating too fast.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Felix mumbles.

Felix seems to pick an actual page and stick to it for a little while. Hyunjin tries to get a grip. Maybe rumors circulating about him and Chan are a good thing, actually. Maybe it makes fewer people ask Chan out or make him uncomfortable. It hasn’t worked that way for Hyunjin, but then again, nothing ever does.

Then Felix says, “Hey, do you remember that thing that Minho said about aesthetic attraction?”

“Oh my god, Felix. Why this?”  

“I’m just asking!”

“Fine, yes, I remember.”

“Did it make sense to you?”

“Well…” Hyunjin’s stomach swoops. He had looked up what the phrase meant, but it didn’t clarify that much, and he wasn’t about to ask Chan. He studies Felix. He’s a really sweet person. And even though they haven’t spent a lot of time together lately, Felix is a loyal friend. There’s also not really anyone else Hyunjin can talk to about this. “Okay, fine. I don’t think I really get it. Like, I understand, sort of. But it sounds like Minho was just saying Chan thinks I’m hot without thinking that I’m hot.”

Felix sighs. “I think he meant that Chan wants to stare at you with starry eyes all day and tell you you’re beautiful.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Felix shrugs. “I don’t know. Is it?”

Hyunjin bites his thumbnail. Is it? “Chan’s never said anything like that to me.”

“All right. That’s just the impression I got.”

“I think Minho’s losing it.”

“I think he’s already lost it,” Felix snorts.

Later, though, he remembers leaning over the balcony with Chan after the winter showcase. The frost glinting in the air, and the alcohol buzzing under his skin, and how loud and brash and idiotic he was when he asked if Chan thought he was hot. And how soft Chan’s voice was. You’re beautiful. You’re really beautiful. And how good it made him feel. To be beautiful. To be seen and not grabbed.

He turns it over and over. How Chan used to drop things when Hyunjin entered a room. How he says things to Hyunjin in late nights that he doesn’t say to other people. How he’s outgoing out in the world, but in the studio with just Hyunjin around, he’s quiet and cozy. The way he watches Hyunjin dance, how willing he is to get up and join him even when he doesn’t know the moves.

And in his studio, unprompted, the other thing he said that Hyunjin can’t stop hearing again and again. It’s not like I don’t love people.

He sees more of Felix that week than he has in months. By Friday, it’s clear he’s getting antsy and Hyunjin is, too. He hasn’t heard from Chan in three days. Felix is obviously sick of having texts to Changbin go unread as well.

They call Minho, who says, “What, they’re probably working,” in an annoyed tone. “I’m working. Is this an emergency?”

“Probably not,” Felix admits.

“Chan hasn’t been home since Wednesday, so I haven’t seen Changbin either,” Minho says. “He does this around finals every year. They’re fine.”

He hangs up. “Being a grad student sounds like it sucks,” Felix says.

“Seriously.”

“Let’s go stage a rescue mission.”

Hyunjin agrees. “Minho-hyung can’t judge when people are fine.”

He leads the way to Chan’s studio. When Felix pushes open the door, he scoffs but it sounds more concerned than impatient. Hyunjin peers around his shoulder. It’s about as bad as he’d expected. Changbin has his head resting on one hand, scrolling through a computer screen without seeming to see it at all. Chan’s hair could be in an Einstein portrait. Hyunjin snorts. “Oh look, a pair of zombies.”

Chan turns so slowly, he looks like he’s underwater.  “Jinnie? What are you doing here?”

Chan is at crisis point, but hearing his name like that still makes the corners of Hyunjin’s mouth tug up. He shakes his head. “Fetching you. You’ve got to sleep.”

“Can’t,” Chan says. “No time. I’ve got… five more hours of work. And six hours to do them.”

There’s no way in hell Chan is going to get five more hours of work done before crashing. But there’s also no way he’s going to leave the studio with Hyunjin. He makes a split-second decision. “Fine, then I’m here for nap time.”

He strides in and pulls Chan’s chair away from the desk while Felix gently commandeers Changbin. “Is your stuff so far backed up?” Hyunjin asks.

Chan shakes his head.

“Save it real quick? No time to redo work.”

Obediently, Chan clicks through the screens. He’s more alert than Changbin, who looks dead on his feet, but not by much.

“I need caffeine,” Chan sighs.

“You need a nap.” Hyunjin takes in the circles under his eyes. “A coffee nap, maybe.”

“I really can’t—”

“Trust me?”

Chan looks up at him. His skin looks so thin like this. He looks like he’s about to cry. Hyunjin wants to fold him up in a hug and a blanket and shove him onto the nearest comfortable surface for the next twenty-four hours. Felix already has Changbin standing and is corralling him out the door. He mouths good luck! at Hyunjin and they’re gone.

“Did he take my Changbin?” Chan asks, frowning. “That’s not cool. I’ll never stay awake on my own.”

Hyunjin stifles a laugh. “He’ll return him. And I’ll help you stay awake, okay hyung? Can you get to a pause place in the next like, fifteen minutes?”

It’s really saying something that Chan doesn’t have the wherewithal to argue further. He just nods and goes back to the screen and Hyunjin says, “I’ll be back in ten.”

He jogs to the little coffee shop by the library. He can’t run back with two large coffees (one hot, one iced) without spilling them, but he speedwalks as best he can. When he gets in the door, he shoves the hot one at Chan. “Drink that.”

Chan obeys without really looking away from the computer. He drinks it so quickly that Hyunjin makes a mental note to grab some water as well. When the cup is empty, Hyunjin says, “Nap. Thirty minutes.”

Chan saves his work and turns away from the computer, then frowns. “But I just had coffee.”

“Coffee nap,” Hyunjin insists.

“That’s not a thing.”

“It is! You nap while you wait for the caffeine to kick in. You’ll feel so much better. I swear.” He scoots to the side and pats the couch.

Chan sits, but doesn’t move to lie down. “What if I can’t wake up again?” he says.

“I’ll wake you up.”

“Thirty minutes?”

“Thirty minutes.”

Chan nods slowly. “Okay. Okay.”

Hyunjin expects him to curl up with his head on the armrest, but he doesn’t. He stretches his legs out, and puts his head in Hyunjin’s lap. “Okay,” Chan says again. He closes his eyes. Hyunjin stops breathing.

Chan’s head is heavy and warm on Hyunjin’s legs, and his hair is so fluffy and messy and soft, and his eyes are closed and his mouth is slack and Hyunjin is just frozen there.

“Cool?” Chan mumbles.

“Cool, cool.” Hyunjin has to dig his phone out of his pocket to set a timer, which makes Chan mutter. But then they’re just there. Just there. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. In the end, he keeps his phone in one and settles the other on Chan’s shoulder, because that seems safest. He tries to scroll through his socials. But he can feel Chan’s breath on his knees, and gentle rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body through his t-shirt. It feels intimate in a knock-out, unfamiliar way. After a few moments, he lets the phone go dark and sets it aside. He wants to stroke Chan’s hair, but doesn’t want to wake him up.

When the timer goes off, it startles Hyunjin. But Chan just blinks his eyes open and sighs, heating up Hyunjin’s knees. He pushes himself up. Hyunjin’s hand falls away from his shoulder.

“Wow.” Chan stretches his neck. “Holy shit, I think you were right.”

Hyunjin lets out a shaky breath. He feels like he’s been holding spun glass for the past half-hour, and only just now can put it down without breaking it. “Coffee nap. Restorative power.”

“Whew. Okay. I can do this.”

“That’s the spirit, hyung.” He pushes the iced coffee towards Chan across the desk. Chan smiles back.

While he works, Hyunjin hunts down Chan’s phone. It’s dead, which is probably most of why Chan hadn’t been texting him back. He plugs it in, then makes a run to the vending machine and returns with snacks and bottles of water and tea. He settles in to wait out the storm.

It’s a lot like studying together normally, is, except that Hyunjin is paying twice as much attention to Chan as usual. Every twenty minutes or so, he says, “Hyung, stretch your neck,” or “Stand up for a second,” or pushes a bag of food or a bottle into Chan’s hand. When Chan gets up to use the bathroom, Hyunjin makes him stretch well before sitting back down.

By some miracle, it doesn’t take Chan five hours to finish everything. He’s done in three and a half. Hyunjin looks up from his phone to see Chan staring blankly at a sent email.

“You okay?”

“I think that’s it. I mean. I think that’s it.” He has a smile spreading over his face. “Done!”  

Hyunjin cheers loudly and jumps around to stretch his own legs, then flops dramatically back onto the couch. “Bang Chan, finishing four hours before the deadline. Can’t believe I’d ever see the day.”

Chan pushes away from his desk and spins in a circle, then another and another. “Done! Done! Done!” He spins himself to a stop, beaming at Hyunjin. “Unbelievable.”  

Hyunjin wants him to lay down in his lap again, but Chan’s buzzing. He looks a little off-balance, actually. “Let’s get out of here,” Hyunjin says instead. “If you have to look at these walls any longer, you’re going to lose your mind.”

Chan gathers up his things with an air of jaunty, if slightly delirious, victory. Finishing his work has revived him. “I think I won’t even fail the course,” he says cheerfully.

“Of course you won’t fail, hyung.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes and grins. “You’re brilliant. You’re a genius, actually. Let’s get you home.” He texts Minho—hyung I know it’s late but can you pick up your roommate from campus? He’s a zombie. Minho responds immediately with a skull and crossbones emoji, which Hyunjin takes as a yes. He gets Chan out and steers them towards the main parking lot. It’s dark outside, but it’s probably the earliest Hyunjin has ever left the building with Chan.

“This is amazing,” Chan giggles. Hyunjin’s chest seizes up. “This is perfect. I feel like I could run five miles.”

“Please don’t.”

“Wow. I’m really done—Jin, I’m really done, I don’t have anything to do for like two weeks. Can you believe that?”

“I cannot.”

“Maybe I’ll lie on the beach and do nothing at all for six days.”

Hyunjin laughs out loud. “That doesn’t sound like you at all. The beach isn’t even close by.”

Chan is barely listening. “This is thanks to you. I can’t believe it. You saved my life.”

“I ate half your snacks and slept on the couch, but okay.”

“No, man, I was panicking when you came in. I was like, I’ll never get this done, I’ll fail the year, but then you were like a manager genius, I’ve never finished a project so fast in my life.” Chan is talking to himself as much as Hyunjin. He gets the same tone when he’s too excited to explain something properly. On those occasions, he just speaks in incomprehensible technical gibberish and then has to start over from the beginning because Hyunjin didn’t understand a thing. Hyunjin just laughs.

Chan beams at the sky. “You came in and I was like, oh no! It’s you! This isn’t going to help!”

“Hey! Why not!”

“I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get any work done,” Chan says.

“I’m not that bad an influence,” Hyunjin protests.

“No, it’s just, you’re so distracting. Whenever you’re around, you know, you’re all I can pay attention to. I just want to stare at you all day.”

“Oh.” Hyunjin stops in the middle of the sidewalk.

“What’s wro—oh. Oh, god, I’m sorry.” Chan stops and laughs, but it’s abruptly forced and awkward. “Sorry, I didn’t really mean to say that.”

“No, it’s— I just didn’t. Expect.” Hyunjin blinks at him. Chan, soft hair and hoodie, sleep-bruised eyes and shoulders hunched from sitting too long at his computer. Paying attention to Hyunjin. Staring at him all day. That doesn’t sound so bad at all.

Chan’s ears are red. He smiles in a sort of painful way. “Just ignore me, yeah? I must be really tired.”

Hyunjin swallows. The words come out of him in a rush. “Hyung, do you want to go on a date with me?”

Chan stares at him. Hyunjin swallows again. He’s never been turned down for a date, he’s never even really needed to contend with the possibility—so maybe it’s a good thing he asked before he could overthink it. His stomach turns over. After a long minute, Chan says, “I must be really tired.”

“No,” Hyunjin says. “Well, probably. But.”

They’re just outside the library now. Its doors are closed and the café is shut. It’s cleared out. Campus is quiet. Chan’s awkward cough seems too loud. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea?”

Hyunjin’s stomach clenches like a fist. “Why not?”

Chan scrubs a hand through his hair. “I’m not—I just think—” His voice peters out. He looks at Hyunjin helplessly.

“It’s okay if you don’t like me like that,” Hyunjin supplies. “I get it.” Yeah, Felix was probably wrong.

“Well, I…. I don’t know.”

That wasn’t a no, I don’t like you like that. The knot that is Hyunjin’s stomach tightens further. “So why not?” he presses too sharply. That possessive need is rising in his chest, in his throat. That same feeling he got when he thought that Chan should be his friend, so why wasn’t he? “Why not? It’s just a date. If we hate it, no hard feelings.”

“I’m not… well, I’m not like the people you date, Jin.”

“The people I fail to date, you mean,” Hyunjin shoots back.

“I’m never going to want to sleep with you.” Abruptly, Chan covers his mouth with a hand. He looks so vulnerable all at once. More quietly, he says, “So why change things?”

Hyunjin softens. He can feel it, like the edges of his body are blurring. His heart aches. “Okay. That’s okay, you know? That’s—Channie-hyung. I’m not asking if you want to change things in a sleeping-with-me direction. I’m asking if you want to change things in a going-on-dates direction.”

Chan just stands there with his hand over his mouth. Hyunjin chokes down the urge to say, never mind, forget about it. No answer isn’t an answer. Give the guy a second to think. “You’d go out with me,” Chan finally says slowly. “Even if it doesn’t go anywhere?”

Hyunjin lets out a shaky breath. “I just like being around you. I don’t want it to go anywhere else. I like it right here.”

The silence is crystal balancing on a knife’s edge. Hyunjin almost can’t believe the aching chasm of wanting that has ripped itself open in his stomach. For Chan’s easy familiarity, his warm laughter and his fuzzy messy hair. For him to just be in Hyunjin’s orbit. To talk all night. Make music. Dance. Eat together, take care of each other. He can’t breathe, all of a sudden. He drops his gaze to the pavement. The silence stretches, and Hyunjin wants to reassure Chan that it’s okay, they’ll be friends anyways, even if Chan doesn’t like him or isn’t ready or doesn’t want that. But he can’t. His throat is locked up tight. Has this been building up inside him all this time?

And then Chan says, “Okay.”

Hyunjin’s eyes snap up to meet his. “Okay?” he breathes.

Chan’s biting his lip. “Okay. Worth a try, right?”

“Really?” Then Hyunjin’s mouth stumbles to self-correct, not let Chan step back too soon. “Right! Worth a try. Just a try. Right?”

Chan nods. He looks almost as dazed as Hyunjin feels.

“Okay.” Abruptly, Hyunjin comes to his senses. “Okay, well not now, obviously. You have to sleep. You need to sleep for like two days.”

Chan blinks out of it and laughs shakily. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Yeah.”

Hyunjin swallows hard. “I think Minho-hyung is almost here.” Chan nods.

He gets Chan to the parking lot where Minho’s car is already idling. “I’ll text you,” he says before Chan can open the door. “All right? You’re not allowed to get out of bed for at least forty-eight hours.”

Chan gives him a tiny smile. “No promises.”

Chan gets in and Hyunjin leans around him to say to Minho, “Don’t let hyung get out of bed until Monday. He has to sleep.”

“I’ll tie him down myself,” Minho says. He sounds worryingly serious. He waves and peels out of the parking lot. Hyunjin watches them go. When the car is out of sight, he sinks into a crouch on the sidewalk, covers his face with his hands, and shrieks.

Later, Minho texts him.

from: mh hyung | 10:28pm

wtf did u do to chn.

looks like he’s been lobotomized

more than usual i mean

from: hhj| 10:32pm

I asked him out.

Minho has typing bubbles up for five minutes before he sends another skull and crossbones.

Then he clarifies, that’s a death threat and also congrats.

Hyunjin waits until Monday before texting Chan.

from: hhj | 11:45am

you better be sleeping still

I hope you’re in recovery

Also

What’s your schedule like this week?

He does his laundry and cleans his desk and tries not to check his phone every five minutes. He jumps when it finally chimes.

From: channie-hyung | 12:49pm

Feeling way better

I’m free all week ha

No plans …

But it’s okay if

Then typing bubbles for a few long minutes, and then they go away. Chan doesn’t finish the thought. Hyunjin shakes his head at his phone and taps with trembling fingers.

from: hhj | 12:56pm

I was wondering if maybe you want to see a movie? Thursday?

It’s cheesy

But you’re pretty cheesy haha

It takes ages to get a reply from him. Hyunjin keeps watching the bubbles come up and disappear. He wonders if Chan is as nervous as Hyunjin feels. When he finally accepts, Hyunjin buries his face in a pillow and yells. He keeps the conversation going, sends Chan a song he heard that sounds like his style, and a video of cute otters. He keeps it up on Tuesday and Wednesday too. Normally, they don’t text often. But normally, they see each other every day at the studio, which is closed for a holiday week now that finals are over. And he doesn’t want Chan to think he’s going cold or backing out early. He doesn’t want to give Chan any reason to think Hyunjin might be changing his mind.

He can almost feel it through the text messages over the next few days, the way Chan’s nerves soften and fizz into excitement. The first messages are riddled with ellipses and question marks, and then a sparse smiley face or two, then a row of exclamation points— sushi!!!!!!!!!!1

He gets coffee with Felix on Thursday, more because he’s vibrating out of his skin than anything else. Felix is practically shining. He looks like one of those overjoyed wives in yogurt commercials.

“So Changbinnie and I….” Felix trails off suggestively.

“Bro!” Hyunjin cheers and hugs him. “A good match after all?”

Felix glows. Hyunjin lets Felix regale him with every little part of the story, certain he’s going to hear it another hundred times in the future. Finally after half an hour or so, Felix slumps back with a pleased huff and asks, “So what’s this I heard about you? You and Chan-hyung?”

“Oh god, don’t talk about it,” Hyunjin says. “I’m so nervous.”

Felix laughs. “Why? Don’t you spend every minute outside class together anyways?”

“Yeah, but. Not the same.”

Felix wheedles it out of him, and makes appropriate cooing noises in the right places. When Hyunjin tells him the plan, though, he groans. “Dinner and a movie? Jin, you hate that kind of shit.”

“Well….”

“You’ve never been to dinner and a movie without complaining about it to me specifically,” Felix declares. “Last time you said it was so unoriginal you could cry.”

Hyunjin grimaces. “Well I thought… yeah, it’s not something I usually enjoy a lot. So I thought, if I do enjoy it with Chan, then. That proves it, right?”

Felix narrows his eyes. “You’re setting yourself up to fail, just to prove to yourself that you actually like him?”

“I don’t need to prove it to myself,” Hyunjin says. “It’s him that doesn’t believe it.”

“Well. I hate this plan, but good luck to you both.”

Hyunjin fidgets for a second. “Hey, Felix, would you…. Uh, would you help me pick my outfit?”

They agreed to meet near the cinema, and Hyunjin is too early. He tugs at the red shirt. He’s never worn it outside the house before. It’s so silky, and it clings to his chest. He feels a little exposed with the sleeves rolled up. Maybe because it’s so eye-catching. He fidgets and tries not to meet anyone’s eye. He hopes he looks bored and aloof instead of jittery.

Chan materializes out of the crowd two minutes late, so, right on time for him. He’s wearing that blazer, the one that makes his shoulders look amazing, and his hair is swept up and he takes one look at Hyunjin and gets this look on his face. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Hyunjin makes a face back. “Is the shirt too much?”

“No! God. You look—” Chan laughs and looks away. He rubs the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s a little shy. “You look so gorgeous.”

Hyunjin’s stomach swoops. Exactly like a teenage cliché, honestly. “Oh. Thanks. Felix picked it out.”

That makes Chan raise his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“I don’t think I need your judgement this early in the day, actually,” Hyunjin sniffs. The shirt is definitely too much, and he can’t even dress himself. Great.

“No! It’s just, Felix picked my outfit, too.”

They meet each other’s eyes and both burst out laughing.

“Let’s walk for a bit,” Hyunjin says. “We’ve got half an hour, right?”

“Right.” Chan smiles. The nerves melt. This isn’t scary. It’s nice.

They walk, and point out good places to eat, and Chan’s favorite study spot in the city center, and the place with good bubble tea, and an art supply shop Hyunjin likes. It’s comfortable, and a little strange to be with Chan off-campus. At the cinema, Hyunjin lets Chan pay for his ticket. He’s never let anyone pay for a date before in his life—with girls because it felt expected to pay and it was easier to just do it than confront the expectation, and with guys because he hated the thought that they might think he owed them. But Chan says, “Please, I want to treat you,” and Hyunjin puts away his wallet.

The whole time, there’s an immediacy and an intimacy that Hyunjin isn’t used to. He keeps tripping over it in the best way, stumbling and blushing. On dates, he’s used to every touch and kiss being a promise of something more. Or a question, how far will you let me take this? Brushing hands will lead to holding, then to a kiss, to a makeout session, to hickeys, to pulling shirts off, always an escalator going up and up forever, until someone has to get off.

But with Chan, it isn’t like that. Hyunjin isn’t expecting anything at the end of the night. He’s not even really expecting anything during the date; he’s mostly just expecting to hang out with Chan, and that’s exciting enough on its own. And because of that, because none of the contact is either a promise or a question, he’s more attuned to it. He can take it for what it is, instead of what it might be. When Chan’s arm brushes against his, it’s warm and dry in a way that makes Hyunjin shiver with happiness, like a hot wind on a desert night.

After the movie, Chan makes him sit through all the credits in case there’s an end-credit scene. There isn’t, but they point out the best names from the cast and crew and Hyunjin gets to sit there with their shoulders pressed together for a little longer. And after that, they go for sushi. It’s basic, and unoriginal, and he didn’t even care about the movie that much.

“This is great,” Hyunjin tells him in a rush. “You’re great. I actually hate dinner-and-a-movie dates, but if you just wanted to do this once a week forever, actually I’d just say yes.”

Chan looks at him over the plate and laughs. His ears are red. “You’re a real piece of work, you know?”

Hyunjin grins back helplessly. “Yeah, I know. Will you walk me home anyways?”

Chan rolls his eyes and agrees. Hyunjin can grab Chan’s hand, and he does, just because he wants to. It's not about looking ahead to where things are going, it’s just right here right now, they’re holding hands, and Hyunjin can’t stop grinning like an idiot. “I got a new program downloaded,” Chan is saying. “I’ll show you how it works when the studio reopens, if you want.”

Hyunjin tuts disapprovingly. “You were supposed to be sleeping all week.”

“Okay, but it’s really cool. It does this amazing layer effect, you’ll love it.” As they walk, Chan swings their intertwined hands between them. He feels like he’s floating, anchored lightly to Chan in flight.

“Next week,” Hyunjin says. “And then you have to help Minho-hyung pick music for the midsummer showcase. I want to dance to one of your tracks.”

“You’re going to be on his team again?”

“He’s never getting rid of me,” Hyunjin says seriously. “I’ll sue him.”

When they get to Hyunjin’s dorm, Chan doesn’t let go of his hand. “Hey,” he says, and coughs. “I guess I don’t really know how you feel about kissing?”

Hyunjin’s stomach swoops again. “No one’s ever asked me that before,” he says stupidly. “Uh. I like it?” Actually, he can’t remember the last kiss he actually enjoyed, but he can’t remember the last date he actually enjoyed either.

“Well, I—” Chan cuts himself off and rubs the back of his neck. “I think making out is a little overrated, actually. But can I kiss you good—”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin breathes.

Chan kisses him. Closed-mouthed, soft, a little matter-of-fact. Hyunjin feels it zing down his spine. When he pulls back, Chan smiles hesitantly.

Hyunjin leans back in and kisses him on the cheek, and Chan goes a brilliant pink.

“Let’s go out again,” Hyunjin says. “Please? I seriously like you so much.”

“Yeah,” Chan says. “Yeah. Let’s.” He’s beaming that gorgeous perfect smile Hyunjin remembers from the winter dance showcase. Hyunjin squeezes his hand, and they both laugh their way through saying goodnight.

Hyunjin finds himself thinking about past dates a lot these days. He’s reframing them in his mind. He’d made up a lot of excuses with people. They didn’t have the right vibe. They were a little too needy. They were a little too boring. Something was just a little off—their fashion sense, their work ethic, their taste in movies. But now, he finds himself wondering about them, because Chan openly admits to getting Felix or Minho to choose his outfits when they go on dates. Chan has a work ethic that could make Hyunjin throw his computer through the window some days. Chan has such terrible taste in movies that Hyunjin spends their theater dates daydreaming about the summer showcase instead of watching. And he still enjoys them. He still wants to keep going back.

Hyunjin hadn’t realized he was trying to escape that endless cycle of asking and expecting with his dates before. It felt like he was being led into the woods, passing darker and darker trees, in the promise that at some point, they would get somewhere. The forest would open up, and the two of them would be home, together. But that never quite happened with anyone. They passed beautiful things, streams of sunlight kisses, a trickle of exciting touches, glimmers of recognition in each other’s bodies. But there was always this promise and question of more, something else down the dark forest path, if they would only keep pressing on together, walk through a few more brambles, duck a couple more grasping branches. Touch a little more, grab and gasp and go, go, go.

With Chan, there is never a question of going. Hyunjin isn’t walking down a shadowed, uncertain path, worried he’ll trip and fall, or they’ll get lost, or that he’s being led somewhere he isn’t sure he wants to end up, if it exists at all. Instead, he can sit and marvel at the way the world moves around them, watching the breeze through the grass. He and Chan are in a clearing together, walking in sun-streaked circles, pointing out stands of flowers at the edges of the trees without needing to go in. They’re under the sky together, faces turned up, nowhere to be and no tangled boughs to squeeze between. They can see the stars overhead at night, the clouds chasing each other across the sky, and each other’s faces illuminated by clear daylight.

Hyunjin texts Chan constantly, at odd hours, about whatever comes to mind. When the studios reopen after the break, he shows up at midnight knowing that Chan will be there—he is. Now, when they work together and Chan has a particularly good idea, Hyunjin kisses his cheek obnoxiously and hugs him enough to make Chan blush.

“I seriously like you so much,” Hyunjin tells him whenever he gets the chance. “We should go out again.” They go to the aquarium, and the library, and the big music store downtown. When he catches Chan staring at him, he winks. Sometimes, Chan will fumble whatever he’s holding—his phone screen is cracked. In the weeks before the summer showcase, they’ll switch from the music studio to the dance one, and Chan will sit in the corner as Hyunjin practices. Hyunjin will listen to his music again and again and again, and love it more every time. 

And when the performance is over, Chan will be cheering in the audience, beaming. Looking at Hyunjin in the exact way Hyunjin likes to be looked at.