Chapter Text
He was going to kill Chan.
It wasn’t entirely his fault. But out of all the names that could’ve been written on the paper, why did it have to be his?
Chan had been begging both him and Changbin to help him with his part time job for a solid week, and as much as they all agreed Changbin would thrive in a cute role, Changbin was dead against it. So when he saw both slips of paper read “Hwang Hyunjin”, he nearly gave it to Changbin’s life.
That was how he and Chan, on a sweltering Summer’s day, were walking the streets of Seoul dressed as sunflowers.
Deep down he didn’t mind all that much. Chan was picking up extra work whenever he could, all the money going towards his band consisting of himself, Changbin, and Han Jisung.
“He’s a lyric God,” Changbin would always say after practice. “Give him an hour and he’ll have lyrics and a chord chart ready for the whole band.”
He hadn’t met Jisung yet, nor had he seen Chan’s band perform either. Rehearsals were strictly off limits, especially with their debut gig right around the corner. Which was what Chan was picking up extra shifts for.
“I gotta put the money towards renting the rehearsal room, and Berry needs new strings.” Berry was his guitar. “So really, thank you for doing this shift with me.”
“Just don’t forget to get me VIP when you guys make it big.” Chan grinned.
“Only if you dress as a sunflower.”
“No way, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity!”
“What is?”
Hyunjin turned round to face the person who had joined him and Chan. Black skinny jeans, an oversized t-shirt, chipped nails, and round cheeks framed by long, side swept bangs. He must be—
“Jisungie!”
Oh. Oh.
Hyunjin straightened up, suddenly feeling self-conscious with a massive sunflower headband affixed to his head. This was Jisung? The Han Jisung? He was nothing like Hyunjin pictured.
“What’s up?” Jisung flashed Chan a toothy grin. “Out here making money?”
Chan sighed. “You know it.”
Jisung swept his gaze over Chan, lingering on the crown of flimsy yellow petals. He let out a huff before finally turning his attention to Hyunjin. His eyes widened, also giving Hyunjin a onceover but at a much more… leisurely pace. A more thorough examination.
Hyunjin squirmed, torn between feeling anxious and feeling intrigued. He wanted to make a solid first impression but was also curious about this person Chan and Changbin claimed to be a ‘lyrical prodigy.’
“And this is…” Understanding flickered in Jisung’s eyes. “Oh! You’re Hyunjin-ssi!”
Jisung’s voice sounded like that of a singer’s. Quiet and mysterious with an underlying confidence that hinted at power under the right circumstances. Hyunjin immediately found that he liked it, compelled to keep him talking.
“I, uh.” Hyunjin went to card his fingers through his hair, only to remember the stupid headband. “Yeah, that’s me. And you’re Jisung-ssi?”
“Last time I checked,” Jisung teased, maintaining that infuriatingly cheeky grin. “I’ve heard a lot about you, actually.”
Hyunjin glanced at Chan, who had angled himself away from them, pretending to stare at something off in the distance. The jerk had the nerve to further detach himself from the conversation, then, by humming a song under his breath.
But Hyunjin wouldn’t embarrass himself any further. Regardless of the sunflower costume, he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself in front of Chan and Changbin’s closest—and unfortunately very attractive—friend.
“And I’ve heard a lot about you, too,” Hyunjin said.
“All good things, I’m sure.”
“Mostly.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Well, they mentioned that you’re a talented writer.”
To Hyunjin’s delight, his comment earned the desired reaction.
“Oh.” Jisung blinked, the apples of his cheeks turning pink. “Oh, I mean… I don’t know. That sounds more like Channie-hyung blowing smoke out of his ass.”
A surprised peal of laughter tore its way out of Hyunjin. “Are you saying you’re not a ‘lyrical prodigy?’”
“Prodi—” Jisung paused to clear his throat. “Well, okay. Maybe, when you put it like that.”
It might have been Hyunjin’s first time meeting Jisung, but this brief exchange already proved to be enlightening. He studied Jisung while he recovered from the compliment, sweeping thick, dark hair away from his face. The shirt he wore looked vintage, showcasing a vaguely familiar American band. Flecks of black nail polish decorated his nails and numerous silver rings adorned his fingers, accentuating the knobs of his knuckles.
“I can’t believe we’ve never met before, to be honest,” Jisung eventually said. “I figured we’d cross paths at some point, what with us both being friends with this asshole—”
Chan, of course, chose that moment to tune back in. “Asshole—”
“—but better late than never, right?”
Hyunjin nodded, mustering up all the courage he possessed. Whenever he envisioned Jisung based on Chan and Changbin’s stories, he imagined someone this height but… quieter. Shy. Someone who didn’t dress loud. In retrospect, Hyunjin should’ve known better since Jisung supposedly spit fire onstage and projected his voice like a true professional.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin replied, attempting to mirror Jisung’s smile.
There was a lull in the conversation, then, and Chan swept in, prompting Jisung to talk to him instead. Hyunjin watched them interact in silence. Tension visibly sept out of Jisung the longer they spoke. He gradually inched closer as if he were the sunflower, stretching toward the sun that naturally shined out of Chan’s dimpled smile.
Mid-conversation, though, Jisung’s gaze slid back to Hyunjin. It was intermittent—maybe even subconscious. But Hyunjin took notice anyway, wondering what was running through Jisung’s head.
“Anyway,” Chan sighed, motioning at the logo on his shirt, “we should probably get back to work. I haven’t passed out nearly enough flyers.”
“You should’ve snuck some of our flyers in there, too.” Jisung teasingly jabbed Chan in the stomach. “Who wouldn’t want to see us perform after seeing you in this cute costume?”
Before Hyunjin could stop himself, he blurted, “Your flyers?”
Jisung turned to Hyunjin, eyes wide and glittering like he was dying for Hyunjin, for someone to ask. “Yeah, of course.” A glance in Chan’s direction. “Don’t tell me you didn’t mention our upcoming performance to Hyunjinnie?”
Hyunjinnie. Hyunjin attested the warmth in his cheeks to the heat.
“No, or, I mean—” Chan shrugged. “I thought I did? I guess I must’ve forgotten. Hyunjin is usually too busy to attend our concerts.”
Jisung furrowed his brows. “Too busy, huh?”
Well, fuck. Hyunjin laughed awkwardly, prickling with fear. It wasn’t like he was always busy, but it also wasn’t a matter of not wanting to support Chan and Changbin. Or Jisung. Concert venues often made Hyunjin nervous. The pounding of the music, the weight of bodies pressing in and around Hyunjin on every side, the noxious smell of body odor. The one time Hyunjin tried to attend a show, he only made it a few minutes before leaving, ducking outside before 3Racha could even begin their performance.
“He’s a dancer,” Chan added, sounding suspiciously like a proud father. “And artist. I’m pretty sure he spends as much time in the studio as we do.”
There was no mistaking the curiosity that contorted Jisung’s expression. “Oh?”
“Uh,” Hyunjin replied eloquently, “yeah. I—those are things I do.”
‘Those are things I do?’ What the hell is wrong with you, Hyunjin?
He didn’t know where his usual confidence had gone. Jisung wasn’t intimidating by any means and didn’t come off as overbearing or malicious either. He seemed like the kind of person who enjoyed making his friends laugh, even at the cost of his own public image.
Hyunjin had no reason to be nervous around him. And yet…
“Well, Mr. Artist—No, wait.” Jisung paused and tilted his head, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “That’s weak. I’ll come up with a better nickname before we see each other again.”
Words rose up Hyunjin’s throat before sinking down again, forcing him to swallow.
“You should come watch us.” Jisung dipped his hand into Chan’s messenger bag and withdrew a flyer. It looked different from the bright yellow ones Hyunjin and Chan were handing out. “Here. Our next show.”
Hyunjin helplessly accepted the slip of paper. At the center of the page was an outlined silhouette of three people holding microphones, the name of their group written at the top in blocky blue font. Lightning bolts decorated the page, too, emphasizing the venue details included under the main graphic.
This weekend.
“I know you’ve never been before,” Jisung carried on, “but this will be a good show. We’ll be performing one of our new songs, and I actually have a solo track that I’ve been working on for a while.”
Hyunjin smoothed his fingers over the page, worrying at his bottom lip. Normally he would make up a lie on the spot, but seeing Jisung’s earnest expression, hopefulness coloring his tone, Hyunjin couldn’t do it. He only just met Jisung and yet he made him want to try—just for Jisung.
It’s that smile, Hyunjin realized, glancing up at Jisung. He had one of the most honest smiles Hyunjin had ever seen, much like Chan. And Hyunjin wanted to make sure Jisung didn’t lose that smile.
Plus, he kind of wanted to know what nickname Jisung would come up with for him.
“Alright,” Hyunjin eventually said. “Yeah, sure. I should be able to come.”
Hyunjin didn’t miss the way Chan gaped at him, his face hilariously outlined by the yellow petals. He ignored it, though, and flashed Jisung a sheepish smile instead. It was worth it, too, for the way Jisung cheered and pumped his fist.
“Hell yeah!” Jisung patted Hyunjin on the shoulder like they’d known each other for decades. “You won’t regret it, I promise!”
And Hyunjin, against all odds, wanted to believe him.
Hyunjin groaned as he face-planted into bed. Seungmin spoke from his desk.
“You know if I hadn't changed the bed sheets today I wouldn’t care that you’re in my bed.”
“Sleep in my bed then.”
“Ew, I would never climb that ladder even if the dorm was flooded.”
Hyunjin lazily threw a pillow at him, then rolled over to face him.
“What are you doing?”
“Writing in my diary.”
“What do you write in it? Your romantic daydreams about all the actors you cry over?” Hyunjin batted his eyes at him, and Seungmin threw the pillow back.
“Obviously you’re not tired enough if you can still mock me. And no, I write about things that happened today or things I don’t want to keep me up at night.”
“Like Dayeon confessing to the main lead instead of the second?” Seungmin glared at Hyunjin.
“Okay, okay! Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“Why don’t you write about it then? Instead of hurling insults at me.”
“Aw, did I upset you Seungminnie?” Seungmin turned off the light and climbed into Hyunjin’s bunk.
“Seriously, Hyunjin. I’m sure Changbin and Chan only stick around because you don’t disrespect them as your hyungs, but we’ve been friends for just as long. You don’t get to treat me like crap just because you don’t have any other outlet. You know, like writing a diary.”
Hyunjin fell silent. He wanted to talk about his day, not lash out at his best friend.
“What would you suggest, Minnie?”
“I don’t know, but you need to figure it out. Please.”
He tried. He flicked through his notes app as he sipped his Iced Americano. His nose scrunched up; he never understood how Seungmin could live off this. The bitter taste remained as he read his journal entry from that night.
Worked with Chan, dressed as sunflowers. Wasn’t too bad, till I met the Han Jisung. He’s cute, funny. Invited me to their performance next weekend. Problem? Don’t like crowds.
Obviously, he must be doing this writing thing wrong. He deleted the note and slipped his phone into his pocket, before walking through the gardens at the college. It was a lot busier, the end of summer lingering, and students making the most of the weather. He plopped himself down under a tree, and pulled a book out of his tote. He figured if he couldn’t write, he could read, and let other people explain what he was feeling.
He had read quite a bit of the book before two pairs of feet stood before him. He looked up to two people bickering.
“You ask him!”
“No, you. You look closer in age.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He might get nervous because I’m a sunbae.”
“I wasn’t nervous because you were a sunbae!”
“You don’t get nervous at anything. He’s staring right at you, you know.”
The blonde one slowly looked down at Hyunjin, and a smile slipped onto his face.
“Hi! I’m Felix! Lee Felix! This is Minho, Lee Minho. We’re not brothers, in case you were wondering. He’s just some sunbaenim.” Minho nudged Felix.
“Ow! Anyways, are you a dancer? We’re from the dancing major and you look like someone who dances. You just have that build? I mean it’s hard to tell because you’re all curled up - how do you make yourself so small? But yeah! We wanna recruit you!”
Hyunjin looked at Minho.
“We practice every Tuesday and Thursday, and weekends. That’s outside of our class responsibilities. Not a lot of dancers join us, and Felix is desperate for another member.”
“Yeah, cool. I guess I’ll find you guys on Tuesday.”
“Yes!” Felix cheered, making to fistbump Minho. “Oh, yeah, what’s your name?”
“Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin.”
Minho gave him a smile.
“See you tomorrow, Hyunjin.”
“Dude, what did I tell you about using my bed?” Seungmin walked into the dorm and found Hyunjin, face planted, on his bed again. “I literally changed the bed sheets again after our bed swap.”
“It’s warranted, Kim Seungmin. I’m joining the dance club.”
“Dance club? Hyunjin, you haven’t danced since-“
“I know.” Hyunjin groaned and sat up. “I tried writing a journal, but it didn't work. So I tried reading on the lawn, but then these guys came up to me and asked if I danced. I just said yes.”
“Okay when I told you to find coping mechanisms, I meant healthy ones. Not something that’s going to give you an anxiety attack like dancing.”
“I know, Seungmin. But, God, it’s been years. I should be fine now, right?”
He was fine, for the most part. He had found the practice room early, and thought he’d at least warm up before Minho and Felix showed up. He went over the stretches he learnt all those years ago, and pressed play on his playlist. A slow, moody song started, with a deep bass line and a chorus of strings and keys intertwining together. He contorted his body to match, elongating his limbs during long strokes of strings before curling up in himself during the crescendo of the keys clashing with the violins. He found himself looking up, his hand pointing skyward, his other resting on his chest. Applause broke him from his trance.
“Shit, Hyunjin. You really can dance.” He turned, and found Felix mouth agape, and Minho hovering by the door.
Hyunjin sucked in a breath and shifted on his feet, attempting to shrink and take up the least amount of space possible. Felix and Minho weren’t supposed to show up for at least another thirty minutes. Unless Hyunjin had already fucked up and gotten the time wrong.
“Oh, I—” Hyunjin attempted to card his fingers through his hair, thwarted by a cloth headband the same bright color as Felix’s sneakers. “I don’t know about that.”
Minho huffed and crossed the room, bag slung over his shoulder. “He’s right. Believe me, I know a dancer when I see one.”
“I mean, it’s been a while. I’m a bit out of practice.”
“You’d never know it just by watching you,” Minho carried on, as if every word out of his mouth didn’t bring Hyunjin closer to imploding. “You have real talent. I can tell.”
Hyunjin folded his arms over his chest and slunk over to the wall. He leaned against it and forced himself not to sink to the floor. He knew he needed to calm down but didn’t want to waste his valuable warm up time either. Felix and Minho joined him with their bulky training bags, depositing them on the floor as they talked about… well, Hyunjin wasn’t sure actually.
“And you know what I told him?” Felix’s smile grew as he skipped to the center of the practice room. “If we really did play a match, he’d eat his words.”
Minho snorted. “What a charming guy. Oh, how I love toxic masculinity.”
“Right? As if being a dancer and, uh, not straight makes me any less of a gamer.”
Wait.
“You’re not—” Hyunjin snapped his jaw shut, stunned by his own bluntness. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have… I just didn’t—”
“You’re fine.” Felix waved him off. “Go ahead, ask.”
Minho moved over to Felix’s side and regarded Hyunjin with an inscrutable expression. His feline gaze picked Hyunjin apart. Attentive and undoubtedly protective.
“So, you’re not…?”
“Okay, I’ll help you out,” Minho chimed in. “No, he’s not straight and neither am I.”
There was no mistaking the defensive edge to Minho’s voice as he stared down Hyunjin. His tone dared Hyunjin to be a dick—dared him to make a comment that would have Hyunjin permanently kicked out of the group.
But Hyunjin wasn’t afraid.
Instead, reassurance washed over him. A good sign in a period of his life where good signs were few and far between. First, meeting Jisung. Then, meeting Minho and Felix. Then, this—an opportunity for solidarity and maybe even new friends.
“Oh my god,” Hyunjin sighed, his shoulders sagging with relief. “Okay, no, I wasn’t going to be an asshole about it. I swear. I’m not straight either.”
It was almost comical the way Minho and Felix leaned into each other and erupted with breathless laughter. With one short exchange, the tension began bleeding out of the room, taking a sizable chunk of Hyunjin’s anxiety with it.
“Good.” Felix beamed at him. “I mean, not that it would matter if you were straight. It's just… Well, I’m sure you understand.”
Hyunjin definitely did. He was lucky to have friends who understood or were in the same boat as him. Seungmin and Changbin didn’t care for labels, but Chan was as bisexual as they came. And Hyunjin didn’t have many friends outside of them.
To welcome two new friends into his life that loved dance and could relate to Hyunjin on a personal level? Talk about life giving you lemons.
But Hyunjin also knew a sad but universal truth: some things were too good to be true.
In Hyunjin’s life, it always felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For a disaster to come along and make a mess of the happiness he’d found. He’d come to expect it, especially after the performance incident that started his spiral.
What would Seungmin do? Hyunjin hated that the question even crossed his mind but after their exchange from a couple nights ago, he knew he owed Seungmin that much. Although, Seungmin would probably tell him to abandon ship and stick to befriending Felix and Minho outside of dance.
And, well, Hyunjin couldn’t do that. He won’t. He’d come this far already, made it through the door to the studio and even through an old, familiar stretching sequence. One that he managed to finish, regardless of the unfortunate memories that clung to that deceptively innocuous set of steps.
Hyunjin was going to get better—even if it was the last thing he did.
And, meeting Felix and Minho’s hopeful expressions, he couldn’t help but feel he was well on his way.
For the next couple days, Hyunjin allowed himself to be.
After the surprising success of the first practice session, he returned for the second. Felix and Minho seemed overjoyed to find new talent. They walked him through the choreography they’d been working on, as well as filling him in on the latest gossip.
Back in high school, Hyunjin hadn’t cared much about gossip. It often perpetuated false rumors, and he especially didn’t care for it at seventeen years old, after he went and—
Okay, no. It was in the past.
Or at least that’s what Hyunjin kept telling himself.
Himself and the poor excuse for a diary he reluctantly adopted to appease Seungmin.
But last night’s entry was allegedly a “breakthrough.” Hyunjin wrote more than a couple stilted phrases, scrawling sentences across the page. He described his practice sessions with Minho and Felix, some of the off-the-wall stories they told about people in completely different majors. He talked about the kimchi fried rice Minho shared with him at lunch and his promise to cook another dish for Hyunjin in the near future.
He’d certainly put more thought into it than the previous entries. But with Minho and Felix—and potentially dancing—back in his life, things seemed to be taking a turn for the better. In the wise words of Kim Seungmin, more “things happened” as well as more “things that might keep him up at night.”
As a matter of fact, Hyunjin was so caught up in the little journal folder in his notes app, as well as practice and (tragically) school, that he nearly forgot about the upcoming weekend.
The fucking concert.
An eraser suddenly hit Hyunjin in the cheek before bouncing and flopping onto the library table.
“Are you paying attention?” Changbin narrowed his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses.
Embarrassed, Hyunjin slid the eraser across the table and picked up his pencil. He didn’t even remember putting it down. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”
Changbin had been tutoring Hyunjin in math and science subjects since his first college semester, taking the selfless task upon himself as Hyunjin’s “best friend.” Although Hyunjin had never explicitly mentioned it to Changbin, he was amazed by the way his friend’s brain worked. He loved music just as much as Chan did, but he also had a knack for analytic subjects. A man who could expertly write lyrics and calculate differential equations?
Unreal.
“You seem pretty…” Changbin paused to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Distracted. What’s on your mind?”
Hyunjin rubbed his arm, nails scratching across his bare skin. Goosebumps erupted in the wake of his touch. He felt like a tiny, tiny organism under a microscope—under Changbin’s microscope. On the long list of things that made Changbin’s existence unfair, his perceptiveness was definitely near the top. He was freakishly adept at reading Hyunjin, too.
Plus, Hyunjin didn’t know if Chan or Jisung had mentioned his concert plans to Changbin.
“Just a lot going on,” Hyunjin lied, the words rolling easily off his tongue.
But Changbin wasn’t having it.
“Right.” He drew out the ‘t’ at the end. “You can tell me, you know? It’s not like we’ll be able to keep working through this material until you get out of your own head.”
Well, I can’t deny that.
“I…” Hyunjin worried at his bottom lip. “I promised that I’d come to your concert this weekend. The—The 3racha one.”
Changbin’s jaw dropped.
“The—you agreed to—” He shook his head. “Hold on, back up. Since when and why am I just now hearing about this? Do I need to reconsider my friendship with Channie-hyung?”
Hyunjin let out a weak chuckle. “No, no. I mean, I just agreed to it a few days ago. And maybe hyung hasn’t mentioned it because he’s assuming I’ll ditch again.”
Changbin’s face fell. “Hey, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s a legitimate concern.” Hyunjin shrugged. “But, yeah, we were passing out those flyers for the Sunshine Shop—that little bakery downtown—and ran into Jisung on our route.”
At the mention of Jisung, Changbin’s expression flickered through several emotions, settling on shock.
“You finally met Jisungie?” Changbin squeaked and then quickly lowered his voice. “Damn, I really missed out. I knew I should’ve swung by to give you guys hell.”
Hyunjin rolled his eyes.
“So, what,” Changbin said, “Jisung showed up, told you about the concert, and you just… agreed that you’d come? Did he make that good of a first impression on you?”
Ugh. How was Hyunjin supposed to explain himself? Telling the truth scared him, mostly because he didn’t know how Changbin would take the news that Hyunjin found Jisung cute. Of course, Changbin did try to remain unbiased. And he was really close friends with Jisung…
Still, Hyunjin couldn’t imagine being that honest about his decision. Maybe he could stretch the truth a little?
“He was cool,” Hyunjin replied, his voice cracking embarrassingly at the end. “I guess he was just very convincing.”
Changbin’s brows crawled up his forehead, peeking over the round, clear frames of his glasses. “Convincing, huh?”
“Yeah,” Hyunjin shrugged, not wanting to give too much away. “I mean, I have nothing else on, and I’ve really wanted to see you guys perform.”
Changbin stayed quiet, keeping his focus on his books. The only sound that filled the space between them was the scratching of pencil to paper, and the occasional brushing of eraser. Hyunjin was jittery. He knew Changbin knew he was keeping something from him, truth be told he was keeping a lot of things from everyone, but he wanted to test this.
“Hyung, I’m thinking of changing majors.” The pencil stopped scratching, and Changbin sat back on his chair and looked at him.
“To what?”
“Dance.”
“You dance?” Hyunjin finally met Changbin’s eyes. He had forgotten that only Chan and Seungmin - and now Jisung - knew he had a dancing background. Another thing he had accidentally left Changbin in the dark about.
“Ah, yeah. I danced a lot as a kid and teenager. Stopped, shit happened, but I started dancing again in a club. I might swap majors.” He paused, the words tumbling out of his mouth scared him a little.
“What do you think?”
Changbin’s face held no emotion, his expression nonchalant. Hyunjin hated when Changbin was quiet.
“It’s silly, I’ll probably not change-”
“If it means I actually get to see you happy and enjoying what you’re studying, of course I’m going to support you!” A big smile erupted across both their faces.
“But you have to promise me VIP tickets to your first show.”
“Hyung, you have VIP tickets to every show.”
Changbin lightly bumped Hyunjin, and as Hyunjin looked back down at his notes, he just missed the smile that fell, the teeth gnawing at frowned lips.
The days leading up to the weekend were a whirl. When Hyunjin told Minho and Felix he wanted to join the Dance major, they immediately ushered him to the Dance director. Lucky for him, they were holding auditions that Saturday for students who wanted to switch into Dance.
“Hey, we have that group choreo we’ve been practicing! Us three could do that for your group audition.”
“You guys would do that?”
“Felix is right, there’s only two days until your audition. It makes sense to do what we’ve been practicing.”
Hyunjin beamed at Minho and Felix, grateful that he had found people, his people.
“What about the solo performance?” They both looked up at him. “You could do whatever you were practicing the first day we walked in on you.”
But there was a difference between dancing that choreography in a practice room, by yourself, and on stage, the room dark but for a single spotlight illuminating every bead of sweat, every tremble, every misstep…
“Yeah, I just got to perfect a few steps and I’ll be fine.” He flashed them a grin. Felix squealed and hugged him, rambling on about how excited he was to show him off as ‘my best friend’, but Minho saw the falter in his smile.
They spent all of Friday dancing, dancing, dancing. Minho was even more demanding than ever, and Hyunjin quickly learnt that his silence was scarier. Felix was less upbeat too, focusing on the accuracy of each move. Hyunjin wasn’t in the zone though. Fingers snapped in his face.
“Hey, earth to Hyunjin. Oi, Hwang! That’s the third time you’ve messed that up. Where’s your head at?”
“Sorry, hyung.”
“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it tomorrow.” Felix whimpered. “Come back in 15. Seriously, I’m locking the door behind me. Everyone out.” Hyunjin watched from the window as Felix held Minho’s sleeve and dragged him to the vending machines outside. He slumped down on the chair, head in his hands. He couldn’t stop thinking about the last time, and wondered if Seungmin was right. Maybe he shouldn’t be dancing again? But dancing was good for him, right? One time shouldn’t stop a lifetime.
He made his way into the bathroom, and splashed his face with cool water. Get it together, Hwang. When he walked out, Minho and Felix were waiting for him.
“We’re gonna do the whole thing three more times, stretch, then head out. Is that okay?” Hyunjin nodded.
They got through the choreo twice before Felix begged to stop.
“I think all the candy I ate will come back up,” he smiled sheepishly.
Minho threw the key to Hyunjin. “When you’re done, slide the key through my locker. Don’t overdo it, yeah?” He closed the door behind him.
Hyunjin sat down, fumbling with cords as he plugged his phone in. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? He found the song and pressed play. He didn’t move from the floor, instead moving his arms. Watching himself in the mirror, he fixed all the little flaws in the way he outstretched his arms, his hands, the way he pointed his fingers, how he held himself. He looped the song, and did it again, again, again, until his arms ached and his legs were begging him to stand. He practiced the steps, he let himself take up as little and as much room as he wanted, before he took off his socks and shoes.
“This dance is meant to be performed barefoot.” He tapped the wood of the floor beneath him. And he danced.
“Hyunjin! What do you think of my braids? I made Minho hyung learn how to do them.” Felix pointed at the side of his head, where three thin braids came together in a small ponytail. “One for each of us!” he beamed.
They were all wearing black shirts and pants. Hyunjin insisted he wear black like the other two. “We’re a team,” he had argued, and Minho reluctantly agreed.
They sat together in the hall, waiting for Hyunjin’s name to be called. It was the group performance first, then during the solo performances they could sit in the auditorium. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and as he reached for it the door opened and his name was called.
Seungmin
Reach the stars, Hwang.
Standing in the wings, Hyunjin watched as the dancer stumbled their way through the Sleeping Beauty piece. He tapped the beat out on his thigh, and kept his eyes on their feet. They were nervous, and painfully obvious about it, grimacing with each misstep. But, he couldn't help thinking that, with each mistake, his audition would end up looking better. He needed it to look better, because he definitely didn't feel good.
The stage was dark as he made his way to the middle. He curled and uncurled his toes, lightly tapping the polished wood stage. You are grounded. He curled his body into himself, shielding his eyes from the sudden spotlight hitting his frame. You are safe. The music started, the same song Minho and Felix had walked in on him dancing to. He slowly extended his arm and leg, back to the stage, the slow notes of the violins matching his slow drawn out movements. It was almost time, almost that part, that made him stop dancing. It was right before the keys joined the strings, when the violins quietened and he turned to face the audience. He remembered the faces, the snickers, the whispers…
He spun, and faced the audience, his eyes immediately falling on his friends. Felix quickly gave a thumbs up. 1, 2, 3. He moved, thoughtlessly, letting the music carry his body. The mantra in his head never ended. You are grounded. You are safe. You are grounded. The strings picked up the pace, and his limbs quickened to match the light tapping of the keys. He was almost there. All that was left to do was-
You are grounded.
His feet slapped the wooden floor, as he spun out of himself and elongated his arms.
Reach the stars, Hwang.
He reached out to the spotlight in the center of the ceiling.
You are safe.
He rested his free hand on his chest.
You are crying.
He was crying.
The spotlight turned off, and he fumbled off the stage. He was crying. Shit.
Felix ran over to him, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he could process them. He looked over to Minho, who was watching him with a small smile.
“You did good, kid.” He fell into Minho’s arms.
Hyunjin woke up with sweat beads on his forehead.
The curtain was open, the sun shining right onto his face. Rolling over, he saw Seungmin at his desk. As always.
“Seungminnie~ Why’d you open the blinds?”
“Because it’s 11am, Hwang. I don’t want to spend the day in the dark.”
Groaning, Hyunjin blinked a few times as he checked his phone, the brightness blinding him. There were at least 50 missed calls and even more unread texts. Chan. Changbin. Seungmin. Jisung- Jisung.
“The concert!”
“Nice one, you just realized?”
“Why didn’t you remind me?”
“We all called and messaged you. You had four people remind you, ever after they got off stage.”
“I can’t believe I forgot.”
“I can’t believe I had to carry a drunk Changbin home, and then come home to a drunk you crying at our dorm door about stars.”
“Changbin was drunk?”
“Yeah, dude. And Changbin never drinks.”
“Shit.”
“I think ‘fuck’ would be better.”
“Whatever. Are they awake?”
“Maybe. But you better shower before you go rushing around to your boyfriends.”
“I don’t even know who to go to first.”
“Chan. He’ll understand more than the other two.”
Chan’s curls were extra frizzy, most likely from running his fingers through his hair so much. He always did that when he was nervous.
“I’m so sorry.”
Chan finally made eye contact with him.
“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Do you really? I bet you have no idea what happened last night.”
“Seungmin said you’d tell me.”
“He met Jisung and Changbin for the first time last night, and had to deal with both their drunk asses, only to come home and find you, also drunk.”
“They were both drunk?”
“Neither of them get drunk, Hyunjin.”
Hyunjin rested his hands in his head. He messed up badly this time. Changbin had forgiven him before pretty easily, knowing he didn’t cope well with crowds. But how could he forgive being forgotten?
“Seungmin told me you had your audition.”
“I got in. But it doesn’t feel worth it anymore.”
“Hyunnie.” He looked up. “It is so worth it. Changbin will understand, he’s just hurt. Jisung, well, is being Jisung. Sulking. You’ll have to promise him something good to make up for last night.”
He pulled a small shopping bag out of his backpack.
“Take this to Changbin. He’s never had a hangover in his life.”
Something was off about Changbin.
After hearing the news from Chan, Hyunjin couldn’t help but worry. Then, seeing Changbin in the flesh, one of his best friends, hungover—
Changbin didn’t drink; that much was true.
It was a personal choice, of course, partly for his health and partly because he didn’t like the out-of-control feeling that came with throwing back one too many shots. And his lack of experience definitely showed when he accepted the bag from Hyunjin, barely opening the door a crack to snag it.
The look in his eyes was strangely familiar, too, but Hyunjin couldn’t place it. His train of thought kept leading to a ridiculous conclusion: heartbreak.
Hyunjin had never seen Changbin heartbroken before. And, to his knowledge, Changbin hadn’t been on many dates or pursued many people. Not that Hyunjin knew of.
Come to think of it, Changbin had never told Hyunjin he had feelings or a “crush” on anyone. He often deflected when the conversation came up. But if there was someone—
Well, Hyunjin didn’t know.
He huffed and checked his phone for what must be the twentieth time since receiving Jisung’s message.
Jisung
ok well if u really mean it meet me at the bakery
At first, Hyunjin didn't know what Jisung meant. A bakery? What bakery?
But then it dawned on him: Sunshine Shop.
Hyunjin had been here twice in the past. Once to meet a couple classmates for a class project. And the second was recently, when he and Chan accepted their sunflower headdresses before parading down the street with baskets and flyers.
It’s exactly what you’d picture when hearing the name “Sunshine Shop.” Hanging flowers and vines decorated the entryway, presenting a charming storefront. The sign hanging over the door proclaimed the name, scrawled in a font that had just the right amount of loops and swirls. A chalkboard sign sat proudly beside the door and parallel to the seating area, complete with quaint furniture shielded by expansive cream-colored parasols. And everywhere you looked, there were tiny sunflower details.
Hyunjin squinted and lifted a hand to shield his eyes. Leaning toward the glass, he tried to peek inside past the array of plants.
And nearly fell flat on his ass when Jisung came into view on the opposite site of the glass.
“Motherfu—” Hyunjin stepped back and gaped at Jisung, cackling from his spot inside. “You!”
Continuing to laugh, Jisung motioned for Hyunjin to come inside. As if he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of him.
Hyunjin ducked through the door to the tinkling—and oddly soothing—sound of a bell.
As giddy and cute as Jisung looked through the glass, he seemed different from this close up.
Although the beanie certainly did soften his face, to an extent that made Hyunjin want to coo at him, there were dark circles beneath his eyes, a somewhat sickly pallor to his skin. Almost like he was sick or, more accurately, hadn’t gotten enough sleep.
Hungover.
Hyunjin knows from past drinking ventures that getting enough sleep when you’re drunk is nearly impossible. Regardless of whether or not it’s your first time.
“You made it,” Jisung greeted with a half-smile. “I was beginning to think I needed to send you the address.”
Hyunjin chuckled nervously. He might not have spent a lot of time around Jisung, but even just from their brief interactions, he could tell Jisung was just… like this. Incapable of holding a grudge. Or at least incapable of shedding his mask of humor.
Or maybe that’s because I’m still a stranger to him, Hyunjin speculated.
“I’ve been here before,” Hyunjin replied, motioning at their surroundings. “Granted, only a couple times, but still.”
“Really? You’re missing out, man.”
Jisung led Hyunjin to a vacant table with a casual wave. At this time of day, the bakery was busy, packed with business men grabbing a late breakfast or early lunch, and college studens around the same age as Jisung and Hyunjin, toiling away on their laptops.
“I take it you come here a lot, then,” Hyunjin giggled, settling into the seat across from Jisung.
“You could say that. I like… the atmosphere. And the food and coffee are just a bonus.”
“Hm…”
“What?”
“I don’t know,” Hyunjin replied with an uncertain chuckle. “I just didn’t peg you as someone who would frequent a place like this.”
“What, a coffee shop?” Jisung gestured at one of the dozens of hanging baskets, fern leaves spilling over. “Or a place as bright and bubbly as this?”
Warmth rushed to Hyunjin’s face. “I mean… the second thing.”
To Hyunjin’s relief, Jisung didn’t seem particularly offended. He actually seemed captivated. “Interesting.”
Hyunjin glanced down at the table, studying the whirls in the wooden surface. He attempted to swallow down his nerves, but that was a herculean effort. Because for some reason, Jisung was dancing around the elephant in the room, regarding it more as a tiny ant than the hulking beast of an animal it was.
“I get it,” Jisung eventually added with a shrug. “People usually take me as, like, the stereotypical ‘emo boy,’ you know? An edgelord.” He propped his elbows on the table and narrowed his eyes at Hyunjin. “What would you say if I told you I’m obsessed with cat videos? And sweets? Hell, that my favorite movie of all time is ‘Howl’s Moving Castle?’”
“You…” Hyunjin blinked owlishly back at Jisung, caught between embarrassment and fascination. “I guess I would say…”
“You can be honest.”
“I’d be surprised,” Hyunjin admitted, only to seek solace in the tabletop again. “But people are complex, huh?”
Silence fell around them. Hyunjin continued to study the table, scraping at the scant protrusions on its surface. This was turning out to be a weird fucking day—a weird semester.
“You’re afraid of crowds, aren’t you?”
Hyunjin gasped but managed to snuffle out most of the sound with a cough. His heart beat relentlessly inside his chest, desperate, crawling up his throat. There was no—How could Jisung have possibly—
“I’ll get us some drinks, huh?” Jisung stood and rifled through his pockets, ignoring Hyunjin’s slack-jawed reaction. “You strike me as a sweet drink guy. I know just the thing for you.”
Hyunjin watched in mute horror as Jisung shuffled to the counter and placed their order. Staring at the back of Jisung’s head, Hyunjin could barely form a coherent thought, let alone the proper response to a comment like that.
Jisung could tell? Was Hyunjin that obvious? Did he say something? Did Chan or Changbin say something, seeing as they were Jisung’s closest friends?
It barely felt like a few minutes had passed by the time Jisung returned to the table, precariously juggling two plastic cups and a white plate. He set down the plate first, and Hyunjin zeroed in on the muffin, sprinkled with some sort of streusel crumble.
“Their pastries are to fucking die for.” Jisung flashed Hyunjin that heart-shaped grin that made Hyunjin weak in the knees.
Jisung, then, distributed the drinks, presenting Hyunjin with a creamy coffee drink, topped with a pinkish foam that Hyunjin guessed was strawberry-flavored. Hyunjin loved strawberries.
Hyunjin wanted to thank Jisung. For the drink, the food. For keeping the mood light. For taking the time to meet with Hyunjin and humor him in the first place.
But what came out of his mouth was barely eloquent.
“I’m not afraid of them,” Hyunjin blurted and sank back in his chair, cursing under his breath.
Once again, Jisung appeared unfazed. As a matter of fact, that impish grin returned, his round cheeks bunching up under dark doe eyes.
“Dude, don’t worry. It’s not a big deal,” Jisung replied, his tone placating. “I mean, that came out wrong. I know I hate when people make light of my anxiety.”
Jisung… also had anxiety?
“What I mean is that you have nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of. I really do get it, but… Well, I’m here to talk if you ever need to.” Jisung’s smile turned melancholy. “That’s why you didn’t come, right?”
Hyunjin clenched his jaw and, with great effort, nodded.
“The hyungs mentioned it when we were drinking,” Jisung continued. “I thought maybe it was the alcohol, and Binnie-hyung was being… yeah. Yeah, you know. Before Seungmin really stepped up and looked out for him. But when I asked Channie-hyung again today, he said it was true.” A brief laugh. “He also told me not to bring it up, but I can’t help myself.”
Truly, Hyunjin has been rendered speechless. This was not how he expected this conversation to go—not at all. Frankly, he expected Jisung to give him a hard time, even if he approached it in a teasing manner, and offer him a way to make it up to him.
“This sort of thing… it can really suck to talk about.” Jisung carded his fingers through his hair, drawing Hyunjin’s attention immediately to the strands that tickled his jaw and the column of his throat. “But it’s nice knowing you have someone if you need it. You get what I’m saying?”
Hyunjin was pretty sure he did. But he also didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on someone he barely knew.
“I…” Hyunjin dove for his drink, sucking noisily on his straw and clearing his throat before speaking. “I do. It’s okay, though. I don’t want to burden—”
“You won’t burden me,” Jisung scoffed. “Those poor hyungs have to deal with enough of my bullshit. You could never be as bad as me—don’t shake your head, it’s true. But I just want you to know the offer stands if you ever feel the need.”
Jisung held his gaze, dark eyes boring into Hyunjin. Although Hyunjin heard stories before, he seriously never imagined Jisung to be like this. He pictured someone… silly. Light-hearted but, yes, edgy. Someone who preferred a black-and-white color palette. And, although they certainly weren’t magically best friends after one conversation, Hyunjin felt that Jisung had that capability.
When Jisung found someone he wanted in his life, he welcomed them with open arms. Flaws and all. Because they were human, after all. The root of what Jisung was getting at in his little speech.
And Hyunjin did want someone who understood him.
He hated venting to Seungmin, Changbin, Chan and (albeit rarely) Jeongin. Minho and Felix hadn’t been friends with him long enough to be viable options. But Hyunjin strongly disliked the notion of dragging his friends down, pulling them into the darkest pits of his mind. Of course, it wasn’t like they ever made nasty remarks that led him to believe they didn’t want to listen.
It all tied back to the intrusive voice inside Hyunjin’s head, especially onstage, although that didn’t mean he didn’t feel guilty about complaining.
But with Jisung, he already felt like the door was open. An invitation extended. And, this time, an invitation Hyunjin might be willing to accept.
“That’s really… thanks,” Hyunjin said, bashful under Jisung’s close scrutiny. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Of course.” Jisung’s entire face softened, morphing him into someone Hyunjin barely recognized.
Hyunjin got the impression this was how Jisung looked at his best friends.
“Now, you will have to make it up to me, though,” Jisung drawled, toying with his straw. “We were thinking of having a little… I don’t know, get-together? I wouldn’t call it a party. But, yeah, 3racha—we’re organizing something for this coming weekend.”
“Oh! That’s—” Hyunjin squeaked, but quickly switched to a neutral tone. “Yeah, okay. And you want me to come?”
“Sure, bring your friends. I’d like to meet them. I think Channie-hyung and Binnie-hyung would, too. Well, except for Seungmin since we met him already. He was pretty cool.”
“Okay, yeah, I… I can do that.”
“Awesome.”
Their agreement didn’t fully register with Hyunjin until a brief lull in the conversation, both of them engrossed in their drinks and the apple streusel muffin they opted to split. If he didn’t know any better, Hyunjin would think Jisung was… interested in him. Like interested in him.
But that couldn’t be right. Chances were he was just being friendly since they had mutual friends. Well, and because of everything that transpired over the course of the last week.
“Oh, and I think you owe me another promise,” Jisung suddenly piped up around a mouthful of breakfast pastry.
Hyunjin nearly choked on his.
“Fuck, sorry.” Jisung chuckled softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I haven’t even thought of what it is yet. Just know that I’m thinking about it. And I’ll let you know when I figure something out.”
After Hyunjin managed to roughly swallow down his food, he jabbed a finger at Jisung. “I thought that’s what this weekend was for?”
Jisung shook his head. “Oh no, no, no. You weren’t there last night. I think you owe me just a little bit more than a one-time hangout.”
“Jerk.”
“I don’t—Not in a douchey way!” Jisung failed to fight a smile. “Shit was kind of crazy once we started drinking. So, like I said, I’ll think of something and get back to you.”
Hyunjin couldn’t help himself. Maybe it was Jisung’s weirdly charming personality or the comforting way he approached Hyunjin, the person who broke his promise.
“No sexual favors, though.”
To Hyunjin’s delight, Jisung almost choked this time.
“Kidding! Kidding,” Hyunjin giggled. “God, that’s great. I needed that.”
It wasn’t until they packed up to leave the bakery that Jisung’s words sank in. Hyunjin knew that Seungmin had been forced to take care of Changbin and Jisung’s sorry asses. That Changbin had been drunk and ‘...yeah,’ in Jisung’s elaborate words. Out of sorts. Drunk and disorderly.
And, just like that, Jisung had unknowingly confirmed one of Hyunjin’s biggest fears: something was up with Changbin.