Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jaeyoung taps on his tablet to start up the livestream. He steps out of frame, and opens his chat with Yuna.

Going live in the studio. Kill me.

Sucks to be you, Yuna says.

It does, Jaeyoung texts back. I look like shit. I feel like shit. I want a nap.

Does whining at me make you feel better? Yuna asks.

I hope you fall down on camera, Jaeyoung texts back, and switches apps to order his dinner.

He can see a bit of the tablet screen if he tilts his head. People are trickling in. Comments scroll. Hearts float up.

Jaeyoung's back is aching. His left knee is swollen. He had a minor spat with the maknae earlier about seating arrangements in the car; when he gets back to the dorm tonight, Sungjin will treat him to a series of passive-aggressive comments, and then Jaeyoung will have to cuddle him for approximately half an hour when he could be icing his knee and sleeping.

He takes a deep breath, lets it out, and moves into frame. He settles into his chair, leans over the tablet, and skims the comments until he sees one that works. "I'm not that late," he says playfully. "We had a schedule today, and then the car was stuck in traffic. I just ordered food."

The room is quiet, just the music in the background. There are no faces to look at, no voices to hear. He smiles at his own picture. "I'm happy to see you all," he says.

It's only an hour of his life.

---

He closes out with a series of absurd finger hearts, including a complicated one he only just learned and nearly fumbles. He clicks end, closes the app, and yells, "Stop lurking!"

The door opens, right on cue. "You have to hear this," Youngkyun says.

"Hi hyung, welcome to my studio," Jaeyoung says. "What do I have to hear? What was so important that I could hear you banging and shuffling around out there?"

"Hyeongtak was an idiot," Youngkyun says, gleeful as a little kid.

"Hyung!" Hyeongtak whines. "It's not my fault. I was being nice to him!"

"Nice to who?" Jaeyoung says.

"That weird kid, Sangwoo," Youngkyun says.

"From the new group?" Jaeyoung asks.

"They're two years old," Youngkyun says. Jaeyoung shrugs. "Hyeongtak interrupted his live."

"His lives are always boring, I was helping," Hyeongtak says.

"Did you tell staff you were going to his live?" Youngkyun says.

"I was just stopping by!"

"You deserved what you got," Youngkyun says.

"He stared at me when I tried to talk to him. Just stared at me. Didn't talk. It was like a horror movie," Hyeongtak says.

"You're so dramatic," Jaeyoung says.

"I didn't believe him either, but look," Youngkyun says. He holds out his phone.

The video is paused on Hyeongtak staring at Sangwoo. Jaeyoung taps the screen. "So, like I said, hi," Hyeongtak says.

Sangwoo stares.

"I thought I'd stop in and see how things are going," Hyeongtak says.

Sangwoo stares.

"Is everyone having fun?" Hyeongtak asks.

"I apologize, sunbae, but you interrupted my study session," Sangwoo says. He is speaking respectfully. It's the rudest thing Jaeyoung has ever heard.

"This is perfect," Jaeyoung says, handing the phone back to Youngkyun. "Can you send me the link? I'm posting this on our page, too."

"No," Hyeongtak says.

"Sent," Youngkyun says.

Jaeyoung has to hide under his studio desk to post it, but it's worth it.

---

That night, when he's drowsily scrolling in bed, he watches the video again.

He sets an alert for Sangwoo's livestreams. He's a weird guy. It might be a good distraction.

---

Jaeyoung gets a notification for Sangwoo's next live in the car on the way to a solo schedule. It's a ten-minute drive, but twenty-five with traffic, and his second-least-favorite staff member is at the wheel. He pops an earbud in and clicks on the notification.

Sangwoo is sitting in one of the many bland conference rooms at the company, in front of terrible wood paneling Jaeyoung recognizes all too well. He has a notebook, two textbooks, and two pens in front of him. He's sitting with his hands folded, staring slightly off-camera at the comments. The brim of his black cap almost covers his eyes.

He says, "We will begin soon, but we need to give our fellow students time to log on. Please inform people who come in after you."

After five excruciating minutes, he says, "Thank you for waiting. I have taken your feedback from a previous live, and I've set the first ten minutes aside for comments." He leans in, peering at the screen, and says, "'What are you doing today?' Today I will be doing my calculus homework and working on the first draft of an English essay. If there's additional time, I'll review my Mandarin homework for errors."

Mandarin and calculus, Jaeyoung thinks. What the hell kind of school is he in? His features are too distinctive to be a teenager's, but Mandarin and calculus is a weird combination for college, and impossible for a master's. Jaeyoung should really pay more attention.

"'Sangwoo-oppa, how is my mother-in-law doing?'" Sangwoo reads. "My mother is well. But she isn't your mother-in-law, of course. I will never be your boyfriend or your husband." He hesitates for the first time. "I appreciate your affection, though. I hope you know that."

Jaeyoung likes to tease people, but he's always prided himself on being good-natured about it. Gentle. Watching Sangwoo robotically respond to comments – "please don't request spoilers, that is against company policy" – Jaeyoung wants to bother him. He could say something about Sangwoo's lips, maybe; he has a perfect idol's mouth, but pretty boys like him are always embarrassed by the things that make them prettiest. Sangwoo's ears would go red, probably. He might lose that rigid, annoying expression.

It's a strange, embarrassing urge, wanting to make fun of a hoobae. Jaeyoung doesn't like the feeling. He should turn off the live.

He turns up the volume.

The alarm goes off on Sangwoo's watch. "That's ten minutes," Sangwoo says. He opens his notebook. He taps his watch again. He says "begin." And then he studies.

He just studies.

"We're here," Jaeyoung's second-least-favorite staffer says.

Sangwoo turns a page in his calculus textbook. His forehead is furrowed, and his lips are pursed into a pout.

"Sure," Jaeyoung says absently.

"Sure," the staffer repeats. Jaeyoung looks up from his phone, startled. He puts on an easy smile. He's not Sangwoo, after all. He knows how to do this, how to get by and not get in trouble.

"I'm sorry, I was distracted," he says, pocketing his phone. "Thank you for taking care of me today."

As he's walking into the building, he hears Sangwoo say, "Our first five-minute break will begin now... why were you commenting? The twenty-five minutes are reserved for studying. If you interrupt your session, it is void. I won't respond to the comments made during the study period. Any effort was wasted."

Jaeyoung closes the live.

---

"I watched one of that guy's livestreams," Jaeyoung tells Hyeongtak, the next time he sees him. "The one who stared at you, Sangwoo."

It's just Hyeongtak, Jaeyoung, and their leader Siwoo at the schedule today, a radio show where they're filler guests. Hyeongtak, as always, looks like he's going to vibrate out of his skin. "It wasn't just me, right?" he says. "He's weird."

"He yelled at them for commenting," Jaeyoung says.

"I think they like it when he's mean," Siwoo says.

"It's true," Hyeongtak says. "He scolds them every time. It's become a thing, a tradition. They do it on purpose to annoy him."

"And the company lets him get away with that?" Jaeyoung says.

"It's like his concept, the studious guy," Siwoo says. "He's trying to do his college degree. Do you really not pay attention to our hoobaes at all?"

"Who has time?" Jaeyoung says. "I guess it should have been obvious that he's serious. He didn't even fall for Hyeongtak's charms."

"Don't remind me," Hyeongtak says.

"Did he apologize yet?" Jaeyoung asks.

"They made him," Hyeongtak says, "and he did. But then he said, ‘In the future, I will post a sign for those who want to come into my studio without warning.' And the staff laughed. They laughed! They didn't make him apologize again!"

Jaeyoung says, "When we debuted–"

"If I did that when we debuted, I would have been murdered by staff during a stage," Hyeongtak says.

Siwoo nods at Jaeyoung. This Sangwoo kid might be annoying, sure, but he's giving Hyeongtak something to gnaw at while they're waiting to go on set, and that's worth its weight in gold.

---

It makes sense that Jaeyoung would watch another one of Sangwoo's lives. He forgot to take the alert off, first of all, but there also isn't anything better for calming Hyeongtak down than getting him to start ranting. Going viral for looking like a smacked ass while his hoobae lectured him is pretty long-lasting rant fodder.

The next livestream isn't another study session, which Sangwoo apparently does every Monday. This one is late, much later than anyone should be on live. Jaeyong opens the app, snuggled down under his covers, and sees Sangwoo in the practice studio, the one with the ugly orange wall.

"I'll be on for thirty minutes maximum," he says. "Please only stay if you would be awake anyway. You should rest well and stay healthy."

His voice is softer, because of the acoustics and the hour of the day. He's squatting like an old man, knees against his chest and butt against his heels. It makes his shoulders looser, plays up the puffiness around his eyes and the almost-smiling angle of his mouth.

"'Take off your hat,'" Sangwoo reads. "No."

Jaeyoung laughs in disbelief.

Sangwoo stands up. The picture jiggles violently as he sets the phone down onto a tripod, probably one of the cheap ones that they stash in the closet. He backs up, fiddles with the remote for a bluetooth speaker in the corner, and starts up a bouncy party song that Jaeyoung doesn't recognize.

Once Sangwoo starts to dance, Jaeyoung takes a deep breath. He's– wow.

He's deeply mediocre.

Jaeyoung isn't a dancer, that's not what his group does, but he was given ‘constructive feedback' often enough during his trainee years to see what Sangwoo's doing wrong. All of Sangwoo's muscles are tensed, so they have nowhere to go when he needs speed. He's constantly falling behind the beat. He's overdancing, too, and his skinny frame makes it look even more out of control. All of the frantic motion contrasts sharply with his face, which is set in one unchanging expression. He could save it with good facial work, Jaeyoung thinks, but that doesn't seem like an option.

When the song ends, Sangwoo comes back and sits down in front of the phone, cross-legged. He's sweating. He skims the comments and says, "'You're improving.' No, I'm not. I need much more practice."

"Correct," Jaeyoung says.

"I struggled with performance scores throughout my trainee period. I am an excellent rapper, a good singer, and a high-quality idol producer," Sangwoo says. "This isn't a bad thing. There are many different roles that a member can play. For example, a multitalent like Chungho could play any role, but to a middle standard. But someone like Siwoo-sunbaenim, who is an excellent vocalist, there are different expectations. He isn't expected to excel as much in other areas. I am more toward that end of the spectrum, with rapping and production."

He skims the comments.

"No, Jaeyoung-sunbaenim isn't a multitalent," he says, thoughtfully. "Someone who is a pure visual excels in one area, but that area is appearance. The rule holds that less is expected of him in other areas."

"The fuck," Jaeyoung says, and sits up. "The fuck?"

---

"I can sing," Jaeyoung says.

"Absolutely," Yuna says, moving across his phone screen with an armful of clothes.

"And I'm a good rapper. I even wrote two raps on the last comeback!"

"Totally," Yuna says, passing the other way with a box.

"Listen to me," Jaeyoung says.

"No," Yuna says, off-screen. There's a clunk. "You're interrupting my pre-comeback cleaning."

"Listen to me," Jaeyoung repeats, louder.

Yuna pokes her head back in. "Buy me dinner," she says.

"Your closest friend is in agony," Jaeyoung says.

"Dinner," she says.

"Fine, dinner," he says. "Tell me I'm not just a visual."

"You're not just a visual," she repeats, settling onto the edge of the bed. Jaeyoung makes a face at her, and she sighs. "Why did you video call me about this? You've worked really hard, you know you're good."

"He said I was a ‘pure visual.' Like that's all I am," Jaeyoung says.

"Listen to yourself," she says. "Pissed off because some kid thinks you're so hot that you can make a career out of it."

"I'm not mad," Jaeyoung says.

"You're offended because your hoobae said you're your group's best advertising strategy," she says.

"I'm not buying you dinner," Jaeyoung says. "And I'm going to have my revenge."

"What're you going to do, rap at him?" Yuna says. "You're coming across very mature, just so you know."

"Thanks," Jaeyoung says. "‘A pure visual.' Who does he think he is?"

"Can I get back to cleaning now?" she asks.

"You can," he says graciously. "I'm going to do my planks."

"Gotta keep that visual title," she says.

"You're the worst," he says, with feeling.

He explains his plan to her in between sets of planks. He's not going to be mean. Jaeyoung's not actually an asshole, and besides, he'd get in an absurd amount of trouble. Really, what he's going to do is give Sangwoo the opportunity to gain more fans. It just so happens that that opportunity will irritate Sangwoo for a solid hour.

"I already talked to staff about it," he says.

"I figured," Yuna says, and manages to make it sound like an insult. "Tell me my room looks great."

"Your room looks great, very clean, very ready for comeback," Jaeyoung says. "I'm really excited to annoy this kid. I feel pretty good about it."

"You do hear yourself, right? You hear how ridiculous you're being?"

Jaeyoung hangs up on her, since that's what she was going for anyway.

---

On his next live, he doesn't have to wait long for someone to bring it up.

Jaeyoung reads the comment out loud and pulls up his best startled expression. "Sangwoo-ssi called me a visual? A visual, wow, that's so sweet. Do you all agree?" He laughs, genuinely, at the absurd responses. "He's a funny guy. I should visit him the next time he goes live, I bet that would be fun." The comments speed up even more, briefly scrolling too fast for him to read. "Yah, you're all so excited! I'll plan on visiting him next time. Maybe on Monday, for a study session. You'll have to tune in."

It's kind of a shitty move, dropping it like that. But he wasn't lying to Yuna, he told the staff that he thought it would be nice to stop by Sangwoo's next live, and that means that Sangwoo has been warned already.

The next day, Sangwoo texts him. I prefer not to share my lives with anyone, he says, with zero introduction, but it will be an opportunity to advertise both of our groups.

Looking forward to meeting you too, Jaeyoung says.

It will be a study session, as you may already know. Please bring something to work on that will take up approximately two hours. We work in twenty-five minute increments, with five-minute breaks.

Sounds like a super great time! Jaeyoung writes back, and sends him four or five text stickers as punishment for his attitude.

As preparation, Jaeyoung watches a few video compilations of Sangwoo. He's not his group's most-biased member, but his fans seem almost supernaturally committed. They've documented his likes and, even more impressively, his dislikes. There's a video titled "Foods Sangchoo Won't Eat :(" that's twelve minutes long, and two separate videos about his hats. Another compilation, titled "Sangwoo Savage Moments," shows, among other things, Sangwoo telling the Knowing Bros that he hates the color red. That's not even the centerpiece of the video, and he got Heechul to choke on air.

"He said he hated the color red," Jaeyoung says. He tips his chin up so the makeup noona can contour his jawline. "Who says they hate a color during a variety program?"

"How did it even come up?" Hyeongtak says.

"It didn't," Jaeyoung says, keeping his jaw as still as possible. "They asked some question about the concept for their comeback and he voluntary said, 'We wear red clothing. I hate the color red, but I trust fans will like it.'"

"If we did that, we would have been torn to shreds," Hyeongtak says.

"You're barely older than him. Don't blame being too scared to step out of line on him," Siwoo says.

Hyeongtak looks annoyed, but Jaeyoung steps into the gap and says, "I don't know how his members deal with him."

"Probably the same way we deal with you," Siwoo says.

The makeup noona lifts her brush so that Jaeyoung can kick Siwoo's knee. "You're my favorite," he tells her. She pokes his cheek affectionately before she gets back to work.

---

"You're wearing red," Sangwoo says.

"I am," Jaeyoung says. He closes the conference room door behind him.

"I hate red," Sangwoo says.

"That's wild," Jaeyoung says. "I hate black baseball caps and plaid."

He lowers himself into the chair next to Sangwoo and leans back, testing the give in the backrest. His knee brushes against Sangwoo's when Sangwoo sits down in his chair, and Sangwoo jerks it back and gives him a poisonous look.

"We'll speak casually with each other for ten minutes at the beginning of the livestream," Sangwoo says. Jaeyoung presses his lips together very hard to keep himself from laughing. "In the ten minutes after that, we'll plan our work for the span of the session. Then, as I mentioned, we will do four sessions of work, twenty-five minutes in length, with five-minute breaks. At the close of the session, we can share what we've learned."

"You'll time everything?" Jaeyoung asks.

"Yes."

"Interesting."

The staff member assigned to watch them snickers. She's hunkered down in the corner of the conference room, looking at her phone; it's entirely possible she's watching something else.

Sangwoo taps his watch and folds his hands. "After our ten minutes of conversation, we'll begin studying. Did you bring anything with you?"

"I have my tablet," Jaeyoung says. He picks his bag up and puts it on the table.

"No bags," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung takes his tablet out of the bag, slowly, and then a packet of papers. He very carefully slides his bag off of the table and puts it down on the floor. "It's Gucci," he says. "It's attractive."

"It's attractive on the floor," Sangwoo says. The staff member snorts.

Sangwoo gets them set up, pulling up the livestream app on his phone and balancing it on books until it's at the right height. He checks and double-checks everything. "I'm starting," he says.

"Go ahead," Jaeyoung says. When the service connects, he grins at Sangwoo like they're friends, just to get into the right headspace. Sangwoo looks startled, but he manages to make a sort-of friendly face back. "I guess we'll wait a few minutes for people to log on?"

"Yes," Sangwoo says. "You can do whatever you'd like on your phone."

"Thank you," Jaeyoung says formally. He spends the time deleting emails, texting Yuna updates about how it's going – she's at an interview, but she'll appreciate coming back to something to tease him about – and occasionally looking up to smile and say hi to the people coming in.

When Sangwoo's watch timer goes off, Jaeyoung puts his phone on do not disturb and puts it face-down on the table. Sangwoo says, "We'll begin with ten minutes of conversation." He looks over at Jaeyoung.

For the first time, Jaeyoung feels a little sorry for him. He doesn't have anything planned for this part, and he doesn't have natural charm to carry him through. "Tell me a little bit about what we're doing today," Jaeyoung prompts.

"I already told you before we began the stream," Sangwoo says. He gestures at the camera and adds, "They already know how it works, as well."

"You probably have new fans," Jaeyoung says. He leans over, skims the comments that are already starting to come in. "You do. Some of my fans are here too – hiiiii!"

"No kissy noises," Sangwoo says.

"My one vice," Jaeyoung says, collapsing back against his chair again. "Tell me – us – what we're doing today."

"It's very simple," Sangwoo says, but then he settles back into his chair, just as Jaeyoung hoped. "We will have four timed study periods. We'll study for twenty-five minutes, then take a five-minute break. It's a system, the Pomodoro system. It's a way of managing your time for better productivity."

"So we'll do a bunch of timed sessions," Jaeyoung says. "That's it?"

"No."

"What else?"

Sangwoo leans forward, looking eager for the first time. "It's a philosophy. It's a way of looking at time."

"You need a way of looking at time?"

"Yes," Sangwoo says. "Time is slippery."

"Slippery," Jaeyoung repeats.

"It slips away from you," Sangwoo says, grasping his hands in a demonstration. "You waste it, because you aren't even aware that it's passing. Right?"

"That's true," Jaeyoung says.

"You can keep control of time when you use it to accomplish specific goals, and when you set those goals in sequence. You remember getting ready for a schedule. Getting dressed follows waking up. Eating breakfast follows getting dressed."

"And what if I don't like eating breakfast?" Jaeyoung asks.

Sangwoo ignores him. "If you plan your day and follow the sequence of events, you'll keep hold of your time. You'll be productive and self-aware the entire day."

He looks intent. Jaeyoung wants the arms of their chairs to be touching. He wants to touch Sangwoo's shoulder. It feels, strangely, the same as the urge he had to tease him until he cried. Jaeyoung says, "So you're, what, sequencing your homework to remember it?"

"The problem with studying," Sangwoo says, "or creating, is that it's so loose, so amorphous. It's so easy to lose control, to not know what comes next, to forget what you've just done, and it leads to anxiety. You have to take that control back. You take your work and you break it into tasks, concrete steps. And you break your time into twenty-five minute periods, so that you can keep your focus on the steps. You'll remember your work, and you'll be productive the entire time."

Jaeyoung nods, making a show of mulling it over. "What if you want to waste time, though?"

"You want to waste time?" Sangwoo says.

"Sometimes," Jaeyoung says. "It can be nice."

"Staring at your phone–"

"Or playing a videogame," Jaeyoung says. It strikes home, he can tell. Sangwoo's got the posture of someone who's spent a little too much time in a computer chair. "Or talking to someone. You know when you're talking to someone interesting, and you miss your subway stop?"

"No," Sangwoo says.

"It can be fun," Jaeyoung says. "I was talking to this lady once–"

Sangwoo's watch chirps. They both startle. Sangwoo taps it to turn it off.

"She dyed and sold yarn for a living, and trained dogs on the side," Jaeyoung says. "She said she was training a dog who only spoke German. I went four stops out of the way and got ice cream at a place that I've never been able to find again. Totally worth it."

Sangwoo swivels away from him, to face the camera. "For the following ten minutes, write down the activities you'll do in the next four study sessions. Identify each task, break it down into its component parts, and estimate how long each task may take," he says.

Jaeyoung leans in and skims through the comments. "‘Did you understand why we do this system?'" he reads. "Yes, I think his explanation was good!"

"I asked you to plan your activities," Sangwoo says.

"You did," Jaeyoung says. "‘What are you studying?' I'm not in school, so nothing important. But I have some ideas I'd like to draw, and I may write lyrics if I can focus enough!"

"The timer is on," Sangwoo says pointedly.

Jaeyoung settles back in his seat and flips open the cover on his tablet. He opens his notes app, where he has some drawing ideas and a list of metaphors he's aggregated under the header "lyrics????" Then – fully prepared – he leans back and watches Sangwoo prepare out of the corner of his eye.

Sangwoo is breaking each task into tiny chunks, including steps like "open notebook" and "check pencil lead." He's cross-referencing each of his tasks with what looks like a color-coded record of everything he's ever done.

He's also faintly smiling.

"You really like studying," Jaeyoung says. "Sorry. Sorry! I finished planning!"

"Already? Let me see your plan," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung tilts his tablet toward him and laughs at his expression. "Sorry I don't have tables and charts."

"That isn't a plan," Sangwoo says.

"Studying is your real passion, isn't it," Jaeyoung says. Sangwoo's ears start to turn red, absurdly obvious, and Jaeyoung hastily adds, "Other than singing, of course."

"And producing," Sangwoo says.

"And producing," Jaeyoung echoes. "Look, this is how I work. I don't do color-coded spreadsheets."

Sangwoo rolls his eyes, just a flicker under his half-closed eyelids. He goes back to his planning. Jaeyoung picks up his phone and sends Yuna, My revenge plan is working, if they find my dead body it's Sangwoo.

Sangwoo's alarm chirps.

"You have to work in silence for twenty-five minutes," Sangwoo says. He taps at his watch, and sighs. "Are you ready?"

"Ready," Jaeyoung says, resisting the urge to salute.

"All right. Begin."

Jaeyoung opens his graphics app and creates a new document. He renames the new document "sangwoo livestream hahahaha" and saves it to his files.

He looks at the blank screen.

It looks back at him.

He brings his stylus down at random in the color field, and it selects a dark green. He usually likes dark green, but this one isn't quite right. Dark green can turn bilious. Not as easily as light green, obviously. But a touch too much yellow or brown in a dark green makes it nauseating. This green is nauseating.

But every color can have a good vibe, right? There have been so many times he's been looking at a graphic and realized that the colors in isolation would be hideous. He could rescue this if he paired it right. And then maybe he could do some kind of lettering with it.

He draws a square in the dark green in the center of the white screen and colors it in. Ugh.

"When was the last time you threw up?" he asks.

"No talking," Sangwoo says.

"It's been years for me," Jaeyoung says. "I think I was a trainee."

"Quiet," Sangwoo says. "If you're distracted, make a note of what distracted you, and we can discuss it during the break."

"Will do," Jaeyoung says, and does no such thing.

Jaeyoung tries a couple of different yellow squares next to the green. The first two are too bright. A soft yellow is a little better, but he's always associated softer yellows with babies and stationery. Orangey-yellow doesn't quite work.

He switches over to the web and looks up "hand picking cherries" on an image search. Yes. A cherry red, a dark bile green, a lighter green with some blue in it, and a brown. Tangerine for highlights. Maybe a peach.

He draws a series of squares of each color. The peach refuses to work, so he erases it and writes "PEACHY-TAN?? PEACHY-YELLOW???????" over in the corner.

"How long have we been working?" he asks.

"No talking," Sangwoo says.

"How am I supposed to focus if I don't know how long I've been working?" Jaeyoung says.

"No talking also means no whining," Sangwoo says, but he tilts his wrist toward Jaeyoung. They have fifteen minutes left.

Jaeyoung has a series of color squares. He was supposed to be practicing his lettering.

He starts a new document and titles it "sangwoo livestream hahahahaha." He saves it to his files. He looks at the blank screen. He looks at Sangwoo.

Sangwoo looks a little like he did in the practice room, when he wasn't dancing. Softer. He's completely focused on the page, his eyes moving smoothly back and forth, his pretty mouth relaxed and less sulky. He has incredible eyelashes. The makeup noonas probably love him.

Jaeyoung picks up his phone and takes a picture.

"What are you doing?" Sangwoo says.

"No talking," Jaeyoung says. "Make a note of your distraction.

Sangwoo looks mulish, but turns back to his work.

Jaeyoung emails the photo to himself and downloads it onto his tablet as "sangwoo livestream hahahahahaha photo haha."

After a couple of failed attempts, Jaeyoung opens up another browser tab and searches until he finally finds a tutorial that looks like what he wants. He scrubs through it, disappointed, and clicks on related search terms and videos until he finds what he was really looking for. He watches the video on 2x speed. It turns out to be what the tutorial lady calls clipping mask layers, and it's easy enough to do.

He has a vision now. He does quick black letters of Sangwoo's name. He can use the clipping mask to put the picture of Sangwoo into the letters, alongside something else. Somehow, in his head, fruit and bilious dark green leaves are involved. Sangwoo surrounded by leaves and cherries? Sangwoo's head is a tangerine among cherries? There's something there.

Sangwoo's watch alarm chirps again.

"That's our first session," Sangwoo says. "People who commented, please mark your session as void. I will not be responding to any of you."

"That was pretty cool," Jaeyoung says, and types "cherry tree" into the search bar. "I feel like I'm in a groove."

"Good," Sangwoo says, "but you need to stop working."

"I'm just gonna do this one thing," Jaeyoung says.

"You have to stop," Sangwoo says.

"Just another ten minutes," Jaeyoung says, saving a picture of a bunch of cherries as "sangwoo livestream cherry."

Sangwoo pushes down on the top of his tablet, forcing it down onto the table. "You have to stop," he repeats.

"I was focusing," Jaeyoung says. "I just figured out–"

"You'll burn out if you concentrate for longer than twenty-five minutes," Sangwoo says. "The five minute breaks are meant to give you a chance to recharge and rest your mind."

Jaeyoung looks down at his tablet.

He has some black letters, a photo of Sangwoo, a collection of weirdly-colored squares, and a picture of a cherry tree. The letters are messy. The cherry picture isn't right. The idea is stupid.

"This system is stupid," he mutters.

"The system is effective," Sangwoo says. "Stop looking at your tablet. Our next work session starts in four minutes."

Jaeyoung takes a big breath, as big as he can, filling his lungs to the brim.

The staff member in the corner is looking at him.

"I'm still thinking about work. You can't stop me," he says, letting out the breath.

"You're not supposed to."

"Yah, don't you know? I'm a notorious criminal," Jaeyoung says. The staff member looks down at her phone again. "Do you have any snacks? Give me your snacks."

"No," Sangwoo says.

"Come on, let hyung have your snacks," Jaeyoung whines.

"I don't have a hyung," Sangwoo says.

"Harsh," Jaeyoung says. The implication catches up with him, and he says, "Are you the eldest, then?"

"I'm the mathyung in my group," Sangwoo says, and then, grudgingly, "But I'm the youngest in my family."

"I almost had a heart attack, you couldn't possibly be the eldest at home," Jaeyoung says. He puts his hand on the back of Sangwoo's chair, and slides it off again casually when Sangwoo's posture tenses up.

"Are you the eldest?" Sangwoo asks.

"I'm a twin," he says. He leans forward to look at the comments; his fans have sent in a litany of he's a twin, he's a twin, he has a twin brother, he's a twin haha just like me! "See, they know."

"You mean there's two of you," Sangwoo says.

"I'm the hyung, though," Jaeyoung says, giving Sangwoo a sly smile. "By five minutes."

"You're not my hyung," Sangwoo says.

"Sure," Jaeyoung says, smiling easily. This guy, seriously. On a livestream, in front of fans. "Do you have any snacks? Should we get snacks?"

"We have less than a minute left in our break," Sangwoo says.

"The comments say we should get snacks," Jaeyoung says.

"No," Sangwoo says. "Maybe– maybe next break."

The comments scroll faster. "They're saying you're being nice to me. Is this you being nice?" Jaeyoung says.

"I'm perfectly nice," Sangwoo says stiffly.

His alarm chirps. "Our second session is beginning," he says.

"This is hell," Jaeyoung tells the livestream audience. "Send snacks."

The rest of the live goes similarly. Jaeyoung has to struggle to get his focus back at the start of each study session. He resists the urge to comment or ask questions until it becomes painful, or he forgets. When he eventually says something, Sangwoo tells him off. Finally, something clicks, and Jaeyoung works until the alarm goes off. He gets irritated by the interruption, loses faith in the idea he was working on, and takes it out on Sangwoo by teasing him. Sangwoo snipes back at him.

The comments are scrolling like mad, and barely any of them are getting answered.

The staff member got Jaeyoung candy and a canned coffee during the second five-minute break, at least.

At the end of the fourth session, Jaeyoung says, "I'm free," and slams his stylus down on the table.

"We will now take a twenty-five minute break," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung leans over to read the comments and gasps. "Why are you telling me to stop whining?" he whines. "I worked really hard, I deserve to whine."

"It was two hours," Sangwoo says.

"'Did you finish what you were doing?' Yes, I finished it," Jaeyoung says, "but at what cost?"

"Let me see," Sangwoo says.

"What?" Jaeyoung says.

"Let me see the drawing," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung pulls his tablet closer. "Two hours isn't that long, you can't make fun of it," he warns, even as he's unlocking the tablet.

Sangwoo looks down at the screen. His lips press together, and his forehead wrinkles. "Cherries?" he asks.

"They worked with the green," Jaeyoung says.

"You can't post this," Sangwoo says. He locks the screen. "I don't give you my permission."

"I wasn't going to!" Jaeyoung says. "It was practice. Like your math homework, or whatever you were doing."

"English," Sangwoo says.

"That was English? Your handwriting is terrible," Jaeyoung says.

"My handwriting is passable," Sangwoo says stiffly.

The staff member is absolutely laughing at them. Jaeyoung makes a face at her.

---

You and the hoobae are trending, Yuna texts him.

Where?

Why doesn't your manager tell you anything? she asks, and sends him the link.

You're worse than my grandmother, he says.

Your grandmother is a gem of a woman, a hero of our times, and you don't deserve her, Yuna says.

Jaeyoung clicks the link. The video that pops up is short, just a clip.

He and Sangwoo are sitting at the conference room table, tightly framed by the livestream. "Cherries?" video-Sangwoo says.

They bicker. Sangwoo was looking at Jaeyoung more often than Jaeyoung realized.

Video-Jaeyoung says, "That was English? Your handwriting is terrible."

"My handwriting is passable."

Off-screen, someone laughs.

The clip ends. Jaeyoung clicks on the comments. Most of them are just "lol Jaeyoung's face."

He switches back to his messages with Yuna. Why did that trend? That isn't anything.

Are you kidding? Yuna asks. He waits, and she obliges. Because you want to fuck each other.

What, Jaeyoung says.

What.

What.

Answer me. What?

I really needed you to be an idiot today, Yuna says. Thank you. You always come through for me.

Jaeyoung goes back to the clip and watches it again. The Sangwoo and Jaeyoung on the screen talk to each other about a silly little drawing. Jaeyoung can admit that they seem friendlier than it felt at the time. As always, he was smirking more than he thought. Sangwoo looks less judgmental and more unsure.

But wanting to fuck each other? Jaeyoung only remembers feeling tired and frazzled and pissed off. He'd had to lie down with a cloth over his eyes when he got back to his dorm.

I don't want to fuck him, he tells Yuna. She doesn't respond. Of course she doesn't.

Within two hours, another friend and two of his members have texted him to let him know about the clip, though neither of them say anything about fucking. His manager finally texts him at the end of the day with a screenshot of the trending list and a couple of comments from one of the posted clips. He adds Nice work afterward, which for their manager is high praise.

Jaeyoung texts Hyeongtak with the link and says, Yuna says I want to fuck him.

Hyeongtak texts back hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha, and then, why else would it go viral people like two things cute animals and sex and that's not a cat video hahahaha.

Please speak to me with the proper respect, Jaeyoung sends back, formally, and blocks him for a little while to keep him on his toes.

Sangwoo doesn't message him at all.

---

Jaeyoung takes a battered notebook out of his bag, two novels he's heard are good, and a couple of crumpled up sheets of notepaper. He puts them on his desk, arranged casually. He takes out his tablet, puts it on his lap, and tucks his bag down under the desk. He shrugs into a fitted red jacket.

"How's my hair?" he asks, twitching his bangs.

"You're such a loser," Yuna says. "Your hair's fine. What angles do you want?"

"One profile, one from that corner over there, one behind and outside the door, one overhead," Jaeyoung says.

"You owe me," Yuna says. She's already climbing onto the desk to wedge herself in the opposite corner. "If I break a hip, I'm telling people about the night with that French girl, the nipple thing."

"You're not breaking a hip," he says. "Get to work."

Yuna gets a few fantastic shots of him from the corner, cursing him the whole time, and gets a couple decent profile shots.

"I don't think the behind or overhead shots will work," Yuna says, swiping through the pictures. "It'll make your head look weird. Weirder."

"That's fine. I just need something where a part of the tablet screen is in the shot," Jaeyoung says.

"Why?"

"I'm trying to annoy someone."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter," Jaeyoung says.

Yuna laughs. "It's that kid you're obsessed with, isn't it? The one from the livestream?"

"His name is Sangwoo, you know that," Jaeyoung says. "Stop laughing! This is my revenge!"

Yuna shakes her head at him and says, through giggles, "You're pathetic. It's cute. What are you putting on the tablet?"

"Just the picture I did during the live," Jaeyoung says. He straightens up from his photogenic slouch and unlocks his tablet to pull it up. "He told me not to post it, so I'm not, but I am."

"You're so stupid," Yuna says.

"What am I supposed to do?" Jaeyoung asks. "Leave him alone? Not annoy him?"

Yuna considers this. "Fair. But can't you just post a picture of yourself holding it up? Put it at the end, as a surprise. Blur it out or something."

"I only want to bug him a little bit," Jaeyoung says.

Yuna shakes her head. "He's not going to fuck you."

"Don't be crass. And I know he isn't going to fuck me," Jaeyoung says. "He's too serious."

"Serious people do fuck, you know," she says.

"He's not serious about fucking." He tilts the tablet towards her. "I need just this corner of the picture, see? Not his face, but the cherries."

Yuna sighs and shakes out her legs. "I think I can fold myself in the other corner and get it. Tell me I never have to help you flirt again."

"I'm not flirting," Jaeyoung says.

"Put your feet up, slouch a little," Yuna says, slinging her leg over the other dinky table that holds Jaeyoung's keyboard. "I can make this work."

She has Jaeyoung angle his face slightly away, with his elbow on the armrest and the hand holding his stylus resting against his mouth. His other hand is supporting the tablet resting against his stomach; it's tilted towards the camera, but only enough to give a clear shot of a cherry. "Perfect," Jaeyoung says, "send them to me."

Yuna takes her phone back. "Say I never have to help you flirt again."

"I'm not flirting– all right, all right, don't make that face. I'm not flirting, but I promise you don't have to help me flirt."

"You're lying," Yuna says. She texts him the photos. "You're lying, and I'm making the decision to believe you."

"You're my best friend," Jaeyoung sings.

"You're helping me with my next post. I'm going to make you use a trampoline," she says. She shoulders her bag. "I'm late for vocal training, I have to go."

"Still vocal training?"

"We have to sing live so Jihye can show off," she says.

Jaeyoung puts his hands in his pockets so he can avoid the urge to give her a hug. They already get scolded enough for still being friends. "Work hard," he says, instead.

"Fighting," Yuna says sarcastically.

Jaeyoung posts the pictures after she leaves, hunched over his desk to put them in exactly the right order and with exactly the right filters. He forces himself to pick only four, and puts the shot with the tablet last. He captions it "writer's block."

He publishes the post, puts his phone in his bag, and settles in to dick around on the internet on his desktop.

When he picks his phone back up, after an hour of anticipation, the post is doing solid numbers. Sungjin has commented two fire emojis and a blushing smiley face. Hyeongtak has left his usual comment about his specific aesthetic objections to Jaeyoung's ears. Siwoo and Youngkyun have liked it. Nothing from Sangwoo.

An hour later, nothing from Sangwoo.

He's a nerd, to be fair. He probably doesn't even have notifications turned on.

Half an hour after that, nothing from Sangwoo.

Sangwoo hasn't said anything, Jaeyoung tells Yuna.

My photographic work is without fault, she writes back.

I didn't say otherwise, he says. Did you get out of coaching yet?

Yes, but I'm not talking you off the edge about a social media post, she says. He's a nerd, he probably hasn't checked. Or does he even have an account?

Jaeyoung angrily stabs at the app, pulling it up. He searches.

He opens his browser and searches there.

He goes back to the app.

Right on cue, Yuna says, He doesn't have an account???

Jaeyoung doesn't answer that. Nor the fourteen messages that follow it. To be fair, they're all some variation on hahaha you idiot, so there isn't much to say.

---

Jaeyoung tries and fails to work after that. He fiddles with lyrics that go nowhere, fails at drawing, and then ends up aimlessly online shopping.

Eventually he gives in, puts his computer to sleep and slings his bag over his shoulder, turns off the light and kicks the door shut behind him. He feels out of sorts, left hanging. He lets himself wander instead of heading out directly for the dorms. He looks into Siwoo's studio, but he isn't around; he goes down a floor and looks into the practice room that Hyeongtak likes and all of the vocal practice rooms, but there's no one there either.

He's convincing himself to leave when he sees a studio door very slightly ajar. Jaeyoung pokes his head in, ready to say hi and duck back out, and is brought up short.

"Hi," he says.

Sangwoo stares at him.

On Sangwoo's computer monitor, in the live app video, Jaeyoung stares back at himself.

Jaeyoung pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at the notifications. "Right. It's Monday, you're doing your study livestream."

"Yes, it's Monday," Sangwoo says.

"I thought you were– weren't you going to put up a sign?" Jaeyoung asks.

"There is a sign."

"I didn't see it. And your door was open."

"I was going to close the door for the planning phase," Sangwoo says. "The ventilation in my studio is poor."

"You should close the door before you start the live," Jaeyoung says, pointlessly.

The comments are starting to pick up, moving quicker and quicker. He's got to make it look natural, unremarkable, and then he can laugh about it on his own time. He leans in to say hello to the stream, and puts his hand on Sangwoo's shoulder.

Sangwoo pitches sideways, away from him, and nearly falls off his chair. "Don't touch me!" he yelps.

Jaeyoung's hand is hanging in mid-air. "Just saying hi to everyone!" he says, and smiles at the camera. He looks utterly unhinged. "I'm going to go."

"Yes," Sangwoo says. He's still leaning away, comically, eyes wide.

"I'll talk to you later," Jaeyoung says helplessly, already giggling, and hurls himself out of the room.

---

His manager already has his hands folded in front of him when Jaeyoung sits down.

"I know," Jaeyoung says.

"Walk me through what you were thinking," his manager says.

Jaeyoung sighs. "I was leaving, and none of the other members were around. I saw the door open, and I wanted to say hello."

"You know how we ask you to text–"

Jaeyoung puts his hands over his face. "I know!"

"To text other people, particularly people outside of your group," his manager says, emphatically, "before you wander into their rooms at random."

Jaeyoung drops his hands in his lap, resigned to the scolding. "Yes," he says.

"You know that Hyeongtak made the same mistake," he says.

"Yes."

"And that Sangwoo is easily bothered."

"Yes."

"And that both of you put him in a position to look disrespectful, when you surprise him."

Jaeyoung cringes. "Yes."

His manager sighs. He takes his glasses off, rubs the bridge of his nose, and puts them back on. "You did well with him on the livestream before, but it means people were paying more attention," he says.

"How should I fix it?" Jaeyoung asks. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine, just irritated. It's not out of character for either of you. People will forget," his manager says. "Just don't do it again."

"I won't," Jaeyoung says.

"I'll see you tomorrow for your schedule," his manager says.

Jaeyoung gets to his feet, dismissed.

He hardly ever gets hollered at; normally he and his manager are more like brothers-in-arms against the combined idiocy of the rest of his group. It feels shitty and stupid. Jaeyoung can still see Sangwoo's face when he closes his eyes, too, even a full day later.

He messages Sangwoo, aware as he does it that it might be foolish. This is Jaeyoung, could you please message me?

---

Sangwoo texts him back a day later, hello sunbaenim.

I'm sorry, Jaeyoung says. I didn't mean to cause a problem.

Sangwoo doesn't respond.

Jaeyoung makes a frustrated noise into his palm, and tries, We should do another live. On purpose, this time!

That would make sense, Sangwoo sends back, and nothing else.

A full day later, Jaeyoung says, You're worse than I am. When are you at the company next? We can talk about what we want to do. Plan, like for a study session!

I am available from 3 p.m. to 4 p.m. today, or after 7 p.m. Tomorrow I am free from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m., or after 7 p.m.

After 7 today, Jaeyoung says. Where?

My studio. Sangwoo says. Then, uncharacteristically, If that's all right.

It is!!! Jaeyoung says, instead of playing it cool. Sangwoo leaves him on read again.

---

When Jaeyoung arrives, Sangwoo's door is wide open. Jaeyoung still hesitates, though, tapping on the jamb and only barely peeking through the door until he's sure that the live app isn't pulled up.

"I'm sorry," Jaeyoung says. He gingerly takes a seat on the tiny loveseat Sangwoo has managed to wedge into the room.

"You were correct," Sangwoo says. It almost sounds like an apology. He adds, "I made a larger and more emphatic sign, and I won't neglect closing the door again."

"I feel bad," Jaeyoung says.

"You said you're sorry," Sangwoo points out. "I accept your apology."

He's visibly fed up. It's a good look on him, as always. Jaeyoung is on thin ice, though, so he doesn't push it. "You'd be willing to do another livestream with me?"

"Yes. But we should have an activity," Sangwoo says.

"I had been thinking an activity, too, but I thought studying would be good," Jaeyoung says. "Something in line with your whole thing."

"My whole thing," Sangwoo says.

"The studious thing," Jaeyoung waves his hand. "I could tutor you in English, maybe."

Sangwoo shakes his head sharply. "No."

"I'm good at it."

"I know," Sangwoo says. "I looked you up."

So–"

"You're probably a terrible teacher, since you learned through TV," Sangwoo says.

"I just say that for interviews, I had a tutor. Watching TV was for my accent." Sangwoo still looks stubborn, though, so Jaeyoung tries, "What about dancing?"

"You're not a better dancer than I am," Sangwoo says.

"I know." Jaeyoung flutters his eyelashes. "I'm a pure visual."

"You're not," Sangwoo says, as though he never said exactly that. "But you aren't a good dancer."

Jaeyoung laughs, delighted on multiple levels. "You'd be teaching me," he says. "Even though you're not that good a dancer yourself."

"Teaching you to dance," Sangwoo says.

"Teaching me your choreography. What was your last title track?"

"'Za-Zoom Boom," Sangwoo says.

"Terrible," Jaeyoung says. "Teach me the routine for the chorus. It'll be fun. I hate dancing, my fans will think it's a riot."

---

Sangwoo texts him extensive instructions, a document outlining the steps, and three youtube videos.

Jaeyoung sends back No! :) and goes about his day.

"You're not brooding enough," the photographer says, "get it together."

"I had something great happen today, sorry," Jaeyoung says, and thinks about old fish and the smell of dirty bedsheets until the photographer is satisfied again.

---

When Jaeyoung shows up to the ugly orange practice room, Sangwoo is already there, setting up one of the tripods from the AV closet. "Here," Jaeyoung says, and hands over his own tripod. "This will get it up to our eye level, better angle. Which staff member's babysitting us today?"

"Remote," Sangwoo says.

"Remote? How did you manage that?"

"I asked," Sangwoo says. He twists the third leg into place, then puts his tablet in the cradle. He turns, finally, and gets a good look at Jaeyoung. "You're wearing red," he says.

"Oh, am I?" Jaeyoung says. He cants one leg out at a decorative angle to show off his track pants. "I just threw something on."

If he had expected a reaction, he would have been sorely disappointed. "Are you ready to start?" Sangwoo asks.

"Go ahead," Jaeyoung says. He checks his phone, waiting for it to pair. "I'll throw some music on the speaker and we can go get snacks."

"Snacks?"

"Snacks," Jaeyoung says firmly. He hits play and throws his phone on top of his bag. "Put up a note that we'll be right back, I'll tape a sign to the door."

Sangwoo makes it about five minutes – down two floors and down the hallway to the good vending machines – before he starts fretting. "It's been five minutes," he says.

"We'll head right back," Jaeyoung says. "Should I get another bag of chips?"

"They'll think we're rude," Sangwoo says.

"You always sound commanding when you say stuff like that," Jaeyoung says, "but I think you're just nervous. That's an interesting technique. What do you want to eat?"

"Nothing," Sangwoo says. "I'm not–"

"You have to eat something," Jaeyoung says. "I'll get the chips for you. Anyway, if you sit around and don't respond to their comments, it's just as rude as leaving the room for a little bit."

"That's– that's true," Sangwoo says. "I don't want chips."

"It's not that rude, there's just no polite way to do it," Jaeyoung adds. "What do you want instead?"

"Get me the seaweed," Sangwoo says, and then lets Jaeyoung get him a disgusting canned coffee without quite as much prodding.

When they get back, Jaeyoung dumps his armful of snacks on top of his bag, ducks into view, and says, "Sorry! I needed snacks! We worried you would leave, but you're here, thank you."

Sangwoo doesn't say anything; he tilts his head down, letting the brim of his cap cover his face, and goes to put his sad tiny snack in the corner.

Jaeyoung gets up close to the phone. "Yah, I'm not a 'bad influence.' I'm a growing boy and I need my vitamins." When Sangwoo snorts, Jaeyoung makes eye contact with the lens and says, "Maybe I am a bad influence. He just laughed."

"I scoffed," Sangwoo says, behind him, just loud enough that the microphone probably picked it up.

"False alarm," Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo smiles. The brim of his cap is still sort of covering his face, but Jaeyoung can see just a sliver of it in the video.

"What are we doing to warm up?" Jaeyoung asks.

"I have a routine."

"Of course you have a routine," Jaeyoung says. "All right, let's get it."

The routine is extremely boring. They loosen their hips and ankles, stretch out their legs, and "activate the core," which just means too many sit-ups and planks. They do arm circles until even Jaeyoung's shoulders are burning. "Can we do my warm-up instead?" Jaeyoung whines.

"We've done our warm-up. We should dance now," Sangwoo says.

"I'm going to answer comments, I'm tired," Jaeyoung says. He picks up the tablet up off of the tripod. "Hey, tell them how you came up with the routine, they're asking."

"We shouldn't sit, we'll get cold," Sangwoo says. Jaeyoung ignores him, and when Jaeyoung sits he does too, cross-legged on the floor. "I got it from my first dance instructor. It warms the entire body."

"It's hard," Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo shrugs, but he's looking more shy than grouchy, fiddling with his shoelaces. Jaeyoung extends his arm, resting it on his knee, so he can get Sangwoo in frame and the fans can see.

Jaeyoung only makes him answer a handful of comments, maybe five, but by the last one Sangwoo's starting to look irritable again, shifting in place and saying things about getting cold and straining his hamstring. Jaeyoung gets back up to his feet, surprising Sangwoo into standing up. He gets his phone and pulls up his favorite warm-up video, then props it against the foot of the tripod.

"'Iconic kpop random dance mirrored before 2012 hits only,'" Sangwoo reads.

"You don't need to know all of the dances. Either way, you try your best to do it," Jaeyoung says. "How many Shinee routines do you know?"

"Several," Sangwoo says darkly.

Jaeyoung manages, with great fortitude and indescribable manliness, not to cackle.

Jaeyoung picked this warm-up to provide a specific kind of entertainment. They'll get to show off the dances they know. Jaeyoung will do a couple of girl group dances extremely well, because he's a modern man who respects women. They'll wiggle awkwardly during everything they don't know, and it will make the fans laugh and post clips on Twitter.

Sangwoo has – as Jaeyoung should have expected – not gotten the point. And – again, as Jaeyoung should have expected – it is still somehow the best.

"Were you a backup dancer in a former life?" Jaeyoung asks, as Sangwoo does a perfect rendition of the chorus of "Lovey-Dovey." "Are you secretly thirty-five years old?"

"It's T-ara," Sangwoo says, witheringly, as he transitions into "Lucifer" without a hitch.

"It's T-ara," Jaeyoung says to camera, and then tries his best to get back into sync while tutting very badly.

When "Like a Cat" comes on, though, Sangwoo stops dead in his tracks.

"Why aren't you dancing?" Jaeyoung asks, doing the little kitty face rub and sticking his butt out.

"I don't know it," Sangwoo says.

"The rules clearly state that you have to keep dancing," Jaeyoung says, cheating his butt to camera to do the sexy hip tilts. Sangwoo only wiggles uncomfortably until the video transitions to a Super Junior track.

When Sangwoo's watch trills, Sangwoo stops mid-step; Jaeyoung finishes it out, stops the video, and gets up close to the tablet. He tweaks at his bangs, trying to fluff them up, and switches back to the comments. "They're making fun of you for not doing 'Like a Cat' and 'Up and Down,'" he lies.

"I'm not good at those ones," Sangwoo says.

"It's a warm-up," Jaeyoung says. "You just had to try."

"We should do the real dance now," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung pouts. "They think we should take a break," he says, lying again.

"No, they don't," Sangwoo says. "That was a warm-up. Time to do what we said we would do."

"No fun," Jaeyoung says, and resigns himself to flat hair and an unattractively sweaty shirt.

He's already gotten what he wanted out of the livestream, really, so he's more attentive than he might otherwise be while Sangwoo teaches him the steps. He can tell it's a dumbed-down version – probably only slightly elaborated from their social media challenge – so he picks it up comparatively quickly, and the 'performance' goes well. Jaeyoung looks stupid, but he's pretty sure most of it can be excused by his height.

After they're done, he turns off the music, picks up the tablet again, and collapses to sit on the floor. "I might die," he says.

"You should work on your stamina," Sangwoo says.

"My stamina is fine," Jaeyoung says mildly, managing to save it from being innuendo. "You should be proud of me, I got it quickly."

"You did very well," Sangwoo says.

"I should get snacks," he says hopefully.

"You can have snacks," Sangwoo says.

"Thank you," Jaeyoung says.

"I'm going to pat your head now," Sangwoo says.

"Pat?" Jaeyoung says, and then stills when Sangwoo's hand rests briefly on his head. His hair is sweaty, he thinks. Sangwoo is probably grossed out.

He looks up, and Sangwoo lets his hand slide off. "Good job," Sangwoo says.

"Thanks," Jaeyoung says. He looks down at the comments.

Someone's written "YOU SHOULD HUG." The screen quickly fills with "hug!" in different variations, rapidly scrolling down the screen.

"I'm not going to hug him. I don't do that," Sangwoo says sharply, instead of laughing about it like a sensible human being.

"I'm lucky I got a head pat, don't push it," Jaeyoung says, smiling easily, saving it. "We should go, it's been– yah, it's been two hours. I need to eat, I'll waste away." He launches into his usual cooing goodbyes, and manages to needle Sangwoo into being slightly more natural when he says goodbye himself.

Then he turns off the live, double-checks that it's off, and says, "What were you thinking?"

"What do you mean?" Sangwoo says.

"Do you want to come off as an asshole? Or is this just how you are?"

"I wasn't an asshole," Sangwoo says stiffly.

"You wouldn't dance to any of the sexy dances, and you were rude about hugging me," Jaeyoung says. "What are you thinking?"

"If you're taking offense–"

"I'm not taking offense. You looked like an asshole."

"No, you did. You probably made them feel weird," Sangwoo says.

"Weird? Why?" Jaeyoung says.

"Sexy dances, hugging – they'll think that we like that," Sangwoo says, lifting his cap and settling it back on his head. "That, you know. we're like that."

Jaeyoung stills. "What do you mean, ‘like that'?" he asks.

"You know," Sangwoo says again, uncomfortably.

"I guess I do," Jaeyoung says. The conversation just changed on him, out of nowhere, from casual nonsense to a minefield. "Girls love that, though," he points out. "Hugging, sexy dances."

"They don't," Sangwoo says. "That's unnatural, they wouldn't want that."

"Unnatural," Jaeyoung says.

"Romantic desire is intended to encourage reproduction. Men and women desire each other because they perceive each other as good mates. Therefore, our fans desire us for our symmetrical appearance and ability to support them." Sangwoo nods, agreeing with himself. "They don't want to see us acting unnaturally."

"No, they do want to see that," Jaeyoung says. "It makes you look more natural, you know. When we do a really sexy dance by a girl group, we look silly, but we're also doing something sexy and girly. And what the girls who desire us naturally see is that we're not used to doing something girly-sexy, but we don't mind looking like women."

"That doesn't make any sense," Sangwoo says.

"Only idols who are afraid of looking like that are like that," Jaeyoung says, sharply.

Sangwoo's face pinches up, ugly, and he says, "What are you implying?"

Jaeyoung pushes himself up and then stands, even though his legs are throbbing. "Don't worry," he says, snidely. "I would never say anything like that about you."

"It's different for you," Sangwoo says. "You're tall, you look how you do, you could be that kind of person–"

"Watch it," Jaeyoung says.

"I apologize," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung waves it away. "I'm telling you how it works. Take my advice or don't."

He gets his things. The room is silent.

When he lets the door slam shut behind him, Sangwoo is standing with his fingers laced behind his neck. He isn't looking.

---

Sangwoo doesn't text him.

---

When Jaeyoung became a trainee, he had had two girlfriends. He'd also had a couple of boys he'd "hung out" with. He was a good, well-behaved boyfriend – cute dates, couples outfits, kissing and a little light groping – and a good, well-behaved not-boyfriend – furtive, not clingy, didn't make a fuss if the guy he was hanging out with found a girlfriend. He knew the rules.

When Siwoo had approached him, it had been in the usual way. A little too much affection, a few too many conversations about sex, a little too much eye contact. Eventually Jaeyoung had just gone for it, pulled Siwoo aside and groped his ass a little. Siwoo had laughed and groped him back.

After the first time, while Jaeyoung was wiping off his hand, Siwoo had apologetically said, "I don't think we should be in a relationship."

"Obviously," Jaeyoung said, and then, "Was – was that an option?"

"You thought that wasn't an option?" Siwoo said, and Jaeyoung had felt, for the first time, unsure.

Having sex with Siwoo was different. Siwoo would kiss him, he would let Jaeyoung hold him, he wasn't afraid to tell Jaeyoung how he wanted to be touched. The first time they got drunk together, Siwoo didn't go too far, then get angry and cruel. He'd played with Jaeyoung's hair, instead; he'd waited for the other trainees to leave and then kissed him, friendly and loving, and put him to bed.

When they found out they were going to be in the same group, they had stopped. But Siwoo still hugged him around the neck, played with his hair, kissed his mouth wetly when they were drunk at home. He got a girlfriend, eventually, but he still said things like "everyone knows Jaeyoung's got good hands" with a wink, and laughed when Jaeyoung was embarrassed.

Siwoo was the first man Jaeyoung had ever known who wasn't particularly afraid of loving him.

They don't want to see us acting unnaturally.

When Siwoo gets in the door that night, Jaeyoung says, "Come hug me."

"I'm all sweaty," Siwoo says.

"You're glistening, you bitch," Jaeyoung says, putting on the high, light voice he learned from Siwoo. "Hug me, tell me gossip."

"You get fifteen minutes," Siwoo says. He spends thirty minutes with Jaeyoung's head in his lap, telling him how Hajoon and Doyun had had a fight about Seojun on their line's groupchat in front of everyone. Apparently he'd had to spend a full day reassuring the more oblivious straight men that "and you're terrible at sucking dick!" was a deep in-joke.

"What's got you like this?" he says.

"Sangwoo," Jaeyoung says. "Found out he's kind of traditional."

"Traditional?"

"He said he didn't want to act 'unnatural,' like a girl," Jaeyoung says.

"What a horrible thing to say," Siwoo says. He smooths his fingertips across Jaeyoung's forehead.

"And he said it to my face," Jaeyoung says.

"Maybe he doesn't know about you," Siwoo says.

"He knew," Jaeyoung says. "Everyone knows about me."

"You're not exactly subtle," Siwoo agrees.

"And that's coming from you."

"If you're going to criticize my stealthiness," Siwoo says, and slaps him gently on his forehead. "Get up, I have to shower."

"Go, go," Jaeyoung says, lifting his head.

He should get up, get changed, and do some stretching before bed, but he stays on the couch instead. He texts Yuna, and scrolls, and eventually pulls up his messages with Sangwoo.

Jaeyoung's the normal one, is the thing. He fits in. Half the people he knows are "like that." Sangwoo's the outsider, here.

If you're going to be in this industry, you're going to have to get used to some things, he sends Sangwoo. It feels good, to be direct with him like that, to make it clear.

Sangwoo doesn't text. Jaeyoung doesn't really want him to.

---

The next morning, Jaeyoung texts Yuna that he's ready to treat her to dinner.

What do you want? she says.

I don't always want something, he says. When she doesn't respond, he adds, I'm pissed off and it would cheer me up.

She promptly sends back, Tonight or Friday night.

You're the worst, he says. I'm free Friday. At the company?

See you at 6, asshole!

On Friday, Yuna shows up in big sunglasses and a Balenciaga sweater.

"That's the corniest sweater I've ever seen," Jaeyoung says.

"I look amazing in it," she says. She tosses the hat on the bench seat and takes off her sunglasses. "And a fan got me this sweater because I'm so sexy and desirable, so put that on the record."

"I'll write it down later," he says, and pushes the boxes with her food across the table.

His phone buzzes. The message is from Sungjin; the preview says hyungie I need help you have to talk to Tak-hyung.

Jaeyoung flips the phone over. "I got you beef," he says.

"You do love me," she says, and opens the box.

They eat in silence, except for the buzzing of Jaeyoung's phone. Yuna eats quickly, tucking huge bites into her mouth like a chipmunk. "Hungry?" Jaeyoung says, when she's demolished half the box.

"Be quiet," she says, around a mouthful of noodles.

When she's done, she sucks down half the drink he got her, slumps back against the seat, and burps.

"'Thank you so much for dinner, oppa, you're the sweetest guy,'" Jaeyoung says in a high-pitched voice.

"Oh, are you handling my half of the conversation?" Yuna says. "Thanks!"

"Why are we friends?" Jaeyoung says. His phone buzzes.

"Because you're already feeling better," she says. "What were you so pissed about, before?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he says. "Did I just help you break your diet?"

"Nice change of subject, totally natural," she says. "But I'm happy to whine. Look how skinny my leg is. I'm supposed to dance on this toothpick. And I can't eat carbs?"

"I'm not looking at your legs," Jaeyoung says. "Do you want me to say something to someone higher up?"

She cocks her head to the side. "You're offering to burn a favor?"

He shrugs.

"No, I'm good. The teasers just went out, and we're not doing a ton of shows."

"The fans must be pissed," he says.

"Super pissed. The company doesn't know how to market us, the boys get too much attention, Jihye should go solo, blah blah nyah nyah," she says, waving her hand. "After MNet I'm gonna eat four cakes."

"Send me the date, I'll buy you one."

"Oppa, you're the sweetest guy," she says in a squeaky voice.

"That's me," he says. He sticks his chopsticks and spoon in one of the empty bowls.

"Why don't you want to talk about what pissed you off?" she asks.

"I feel stupid," he says. His phone buzzes, and buzzes again. He flips it over again. There are eight more messages from Sungjin and three from Hyeongtak. "Do you ever want to murder your members?"

"Obviously," she says. "But there are eleven of us, that helps a lot."

"That does help," Jaeyoung says. His phone buzzes.

"How about this," Yuna says. "You say everything that's bothering you in the whiniest voice you can. Like it's a big joke."

"You don't have to coddle me," he says.

"Try it."

"Sangwoo was a jerk to me because he's a close-minded loser," Jaeyoung says. He feels stupid, sing-songing out his problems, but Yuna nods, encouraging him. "Sungjin and Hyeongtak make me hold their hands over every little disagreement. I don't get to take my best friend out to dinner because people assume we're dating."

"Was that so hard?"

Jaeyoung says, "It's not a big deal. I'm just annoyed. I have to do a photoshoot tomorrow."

"Baby," Yuna says.

"Shut up," he says, and puts his head down on the table. His phone buzzes. "I'm not even the leader," he says, using his whiny voice again.

"You should get hazard pay," Yuna says. She picks up his phone. He rolls his head to the side to watch her. She taps and scrolls quickly. "Sungjin called Hyeongtak a name because Hyeongtak called Sungjin a name because Sungjin borrowed his speaker and damaged it," she says. "It's fine." Her phone buzzes, and she picks it up. "Sungjin says he's going to quit the band. It's definitely fine."

"I just want to go home and rest," he says, "and I'm going to have to manage them."

"So it's a typical weekday, then," she says, not without sympathy. "What happened with Sangwoo?"

"Ugh," he whines. "I did a live with him to make up for the one I walked in on, right? We were having fun, and the fans were having fun, and then it went to shit."

Yuna sips her drink. She raises an eyebrow.

"It wasn't my fault. He wouldn't dance to Exid," he says. "He was fine dancing to girl groups, he wasn't awful, but he wouldn't do the sexy ones. And at the end, the fans wanted him to hug me, and he was like ew, gross."

"Really?"

"Really. And then, after we turned off the camera, he told me that it would make us look too girly," he says, pitching his voice lower. "He told me it was unnatural."

"Unnatural," she says.

"That was the word he used," Jaeyoung says.

"I thought maybe he was," she says, "you know. Unnatural."

"Me too, I thought that too," he says. "Not that I was going to go after him or anything. But he's cute, you know. He would kill at ISAC."

"His life would be a lot easier," she agrees. "I guess it's good to know, though. I'm sorry."

"Ah, it's better now," he says. "I got to hang out with you. And last night Siwoo told me all the groupchat drama."

His phone buzzes angrily in Yuna's hand. "Speaking of Siwoo, you might want to head home. He sounds worried," she says.

"He's the leader, why is he texting me?" he says. "Do I look responsible to you?"

"I would never accuse you of responsibility," Yuna says drily.

Jaeyoung sighs. He sits up and takes back his phone. He types out a series of I'm on my way back messages. He adds emoji hearts to the one he sends Sungjin and a mild insult to the one he sends Hyeongtak. "I should go," he says.

"Baby," Yuna says again.

"Don't," he says.

"I'm not." She starts stacking the boxes from their food, fitting the clamshells and plastic bowls together. "Your maknae's grown up now, you know."

"I know."

"Hyeongtak's a responsible adult."

"I know."

"And that kid, Sangwoo. He's still pretty new, right?"

"His group debuted a little while ago, yeah," Jaeyoung says.

"Sometimes you have to leave people alone and let them suck," she says. "And he's probably extra sensitive about looking girly. Since we both thought he was. You know."

"You're right."

Yuna kicks his ankle under the table. "Look, it's going to be all right. You're going to do that shoot tomorrow, and then it'll be done. Sangwoo will avoid you for a while. Sungjin just needs a little bit of cuddling. Siwoo can take Hyeongtak out to a computer cafe, and they'll talk about, I don't know, PubG. Whatever they're playing now."

"League. They'll have fun," Jaeyoung says.

"And I ate noodles tonight," she says.

"And beef," he says.

"Thank you, oppaaaaa," she says squeakily, and puts her sunglasses back on.

"What a good dongsaeng," he says, and means it.

---

In the elevator to the dorm, Jaeyoung gives himself a silent pep talk, the conclusion of which is "you have thousands of fans, you have three Gucci bags, in exchange all you have to do is keep four men from killing each other." It's an uninspiring message, but it does get him off of the elevator and into their apartment.

The apartment is silent.

In the main room, there are clothes draped over the couch. There are empty dishes on the table, and a drama playing muted on the TV. In the kitchen, there are dirty pots and pans on the stove, and three empty beer bottles in the sink.

So: one or more members were tipsy. Hyeongtak and Sungjin fought about the speaker. Youngkyun was too annoyed by the fighting to finish folding his laundry, and he left the dorm. Siwoo was too busy keeping the peace to do the dishes. He would have ignored Sungjin in favor of Hyeongtak, because he has a really bad habit of doing that. That means Siwoo and Hyeongtak are probably in Siwoo and Sungjin's room. That, in turn, means that Sungjin is probably in Hyeongtak and Jaeyoung's room, in Jaeyoung's bed.

"Hello," Jaeyoung calls. "I'm home."

No one responds.

Three Gucci bags, he tells himself. Three.

When he opens the door to his and Hyeongtak's bedroom, there's a lump in his bed. "Hi," Jaeyoung says.

Sungjin pokes his head out from under the covers. "Hi," he sniffles.

"Are you actually leaving the group?" Jaeyoung says.

"You were with noona?" Sungjin says.

"I was," Jaeyoung says. "I owed her dinner."

"I was just saying that so she would answer me," Sungjin says.

"I'm kicking you out, then," Jaeyoung says, and sits on him.

"Hyung," Sungjin whines.

"This is my bed, I can sit on it if I want. Tell me what happened," Jaeyoung says, bouncing a few times.

"Hyeongtak called me a loser and said I can't get a date," he says.

"You're not a loser."

"And I can get a date."

"Sure!" Jaeyoung says heartily. "Any day now."

"I have a lot of fans," Sungjin says. "Girls love me."

"They love you the most," Jaeyoung says. He bounces again. "I'm wondering, though, why Hyeongtak might have said such very mean and untrue things about you?"

Sungjin tries to turtle back under the duvet. Jaeyoung yanks it back and grabs a healthy pinch of skin on the side of Sungjin's bicep. Sungjin yelps and tries to kick him, but Jaeyoung digs his nails in.

"Hyung," Sungjin whimpers.

"Remember last time, when I put you in a headlock?" Jaeyoung asks. "I'm not doing that this time. What happened?"

"I broke his speaker," Sungjin says.

"And?"

"And I didn't tell him."

"And?"

Sungjin pouts. "And I told him to get over it."

"Smart," Jaeyoung says. "Look, I know you're only a teenager–"

"I'm not a teenager!" Sungjin says.

"Really? Because you're not acting like an adult," Jaeyoung says. He shakes the pinch one last time and lets go. "I'm going to go check on the others, and you're going to look up a replacement speaker. When I get back, you're going to go to your room. And then I'll come sit with you."

"Why are you so mean?" Sungjin says.

"Because you all put me under such strain," Jaeyoung says. "Did you actually think he would 'get over it'?"

"No," Sungjin says. He picks up his phone and messes with it for a few seconds. "He never gives me a chance."

"He reacts to things," Jaeyoung says. "He reacts big, and then he gets over it. You have to let him. That's who he is."

"Well, he should let me, that's who I am," Sungjin says, which is about as good as Jaeyoung is going to get.

Jaeyoung goes to Siwoo and Sungjin's room next. He opens the door. He lounges in the doorway.

Siwoo is sitting on the floor, dicking around on his phone. Hyeongtak is playing something on Sungjin's Switch. Siwoo looks up at Jaeyoung and rolls his eyes. Jaeyoung rolls his back.

It takes about five minutes of Jaeyoung's silence for Hyeongtak to say, "Just because he's the maknae–"

"Oh, so you remember he's our maknae?" Jaeyoung says.

"That doesn't excuse being rude. It makes it worse," Hyeongtak says.

"He's three years younger than us," Jaeyoung says. "Remember how old he was when we debuted?"

"Ugh, fuck," Hyeongtak says.

"He'll buy you a new speaker," Siwoo says amiably.

"He's looking it up now," Jaeyoung says.

Hyeongtak scoffs. "It had better be the same speaker."

"It'll be the same speaker," Jaeyoung says. He asks Siwoo, "Any idea where Gyunie-hyung is?"

"He left," Siwoo says.

"Cool," Jaeyoung says. "Hey, you two should go hang out in the main room. Jinnie's going to come back in here in a little bit, I'm going to hang out with him before I come to bed."

"You spoil him," Hyeongtak says snottily.

Jaeyoung ignores that, and closes the door behind him. He sends Siwoo a quick thank-you text for being a great leader. He sends Youngkyun a text to let him know he can come home. He goes and uses the bathroom. When Siwoo and Hyeongtak finally settle in the living room, he goes and bullies Sungjin back to his own room and into his own bed.

And then he cuddles Sungjin for half an hour. Because he likes Sungjin, and because he likes his job.

Sometime soon, they'll be in an interview and Youngkyun will tell a story that makes Jaeyoung sound like a puffed-up arrogant idiot. Which he is. Hyeongtak will talk about how Jaeyoung likes to troll them all, incessantly. Which he does. They put up with him, too. He has to remember that.

When Sungjin is nearly asleep, Jaeyoung nudges him onto his side and gets up. He goes out to the main room and says, "I'm going to buy toilet paper." Hyeongtak waves at him vaguely, and Siwoo says, "don't catch a cold." Jaeyoung jams on his shoes, puts on a mask, and gets out before he starts calling them names.

He doesn't need toilet paper. The company takes care of toilet paper. What he needs is thirty minutes outside of the building.

The convenience store nearest their building is decent, with unflickering fluorescent lights and reasonably well-stocked shelves. He stands in front of the drink case for a few minutes, gazing at the bottles and thinking about his Gucci bags. One of them is really big. You could fit a whole baby in there. Easy. Maybe a toddler, even. A baby would have room to wiggle around.

He buys two packs of ramen, a bag of chips, the jellies Sungjin is obsessed with, and a couple of bottles of the absurd juice that Hyeongtak likes. He uses his debit card, and he doesn't have to check his balance before he swipes.

When he gets back to the dorm building, Sangwoo is waiting for the elevator with one of his other members. Of course he is.

"Hello," Jaeyoung says.

"Hello, Jaeyoung-sunbaenim!" the other member says. He's more slender than Sangwoo, delicate-featured. He looks like he does well on variety shows. Jaeyoung can't remember his name.

"Hello," Sangwoo says. "Sunbaenim."

The elevator dings.

They negotiate, in gestures, who should get on first.

They press their buttons.

They stand.

"Your livestreams with Sangwoo-hyung were very popular," the other member says.

"I forgot you were the eldest," Jaeyoung says to Sangwoo.

Sangwoo stares at the floor numbers.

"I had fun recording the livestreams," Jaeyoung finally says to the other member. "Sangwoo-ssi is just so personable."

The other member is looking wildly between them. "Do you have a comeback soon?" he says.

"No, it'll be in June," Jaeyoung says.

"Ours is in April," the other member says. Jaeyoung nods.

They stand in silence.

The elevator dings.

"Our floor!" the other member says, too loudly. "Eat well, sunbae! Fighting!"

"Fighting," Jaeyoung says.

The doors close. From the other side, Jaeyoung can hear the other member say, "Hyung, that's our sunbae."

When he gets back to the apartment, the dishes are washed and the clothes are put away. He ditches his bag of treats in the kitchen and goes to do a quick skincare routine.

Hyeongtak is asleep when he lets himself into their room. When Jaeyoung's finally safely ensconced in his own bed, he opens his messages with Sangwoo. They're nothing at all, really. He contemplates sending you're so awkward, your poor members, and then, much less charitably, you know the member you were with is gay, right? Instead he closes his messages, locks his phone, and turns over to fall asleep.

---

The next morning, while he's being loaded into an SUV by an extremely cranky staff member, Jaeyoung gets two messages from Sangwoo.

My behavior was inappropriate.

I will be more respectful in the future.

The message, Jaeyoung notes, contains no explicit apology. Cool, he writes back, because it's early and cold, and Youngkyun's elbow is planted in his side. An hour later, when Sangwoo hasn't replied, Jaeyoung considers adding something else – either more obnoxious or more kind – but it seems like too much work. When it comes down to it, Sangwoo is just a close-minded coworker on another floor of the building. He's some guy, going through it, just like everyone else Jaeyoung knows. It's not Sangwoo's fault that Jaeyoung couldn't resist the urge to tease him.

The photoshoot ends up being unremarkable. He gets shoved into an outfit and smeared with various pigments. He sits on a fake rock in front of a green screen. He moves his chin in tiny increments in time with the snap be-beep snap be-beep of a camera. The photographer pauses to review shots and a woman comes in and savagely attacks his greasy spots with powder. "Thank you," he says. Snap be-beep.

"Can you tilt your hips more?" the photographer says.

"Of course," Jaeyoung says, and tilts them.

"Other direction," the photographer says.

"Right, of course," Jaeyoung says.

The clothes for the shoot are embarrassing, slick black not-leather and floaty not-silk. His first outfit was reasonably modest, but the second involves a lot of buckles and artfully-missing fabric. The garment on his torso doesn't quite deserve the term "shirt." The makeup noona who looks like his weird aunt with the relationship issues came over and contoured his abs. Youngkyun's second outfit is see-through but covers his entire body, and he's cheerfully jeering at Jaeyoung about his nipples.

Jaeyoung's phone buzzes. The message is from Sangwoo, and the first word is "Hyung."

Jaeyoung clears the preview.

"Who's texting you?" Youngkyun asks.

"Dispatch," Jaeyoung says. "They want to know how much I want for the photos of you."

"You don't have anything on me," Youngkyun says. "I live a blameless life."

"Totally," Jaeyoung says.

Before he can say anything else, the stylist says "hold still" and does something weird with his belt. She grunts. His balls get clamped against his leg. "Perfect," she says.

"Art," Youngkyun says. Jaeyoung can't even tell him to eat shit because they're filming behind the scenes footage.

---

Hyung, I need to talk to you.

Jaeyoung looks at his phone. It dims, and he taps the screen to wake it back up.

He could send No. Always an option. He could send Too busy, which is a reasonably convincing lie. He could send something snide. He could ask Yuna what to say. He could not respond, of course.

Hyung, I need to talk to you.

The problem with people like Sangwoo is that they don't even use their power correctly. If Jaeyoung could ever manage to be a deeply-principled curmudgeon who refused gentleness as a matter of course, he wouldn't waste I need on a text message to some coworker. He'd use it in person, on a windswept day. He'd be wearing a peacoat and tailored trousers. The person he said it to would be utterly decimated. They would run away from polite society and live in the woods, in a tree, writing novels about that time they fell for him.

Sangwoo blows it on a text message.

It's still effective. Or it's affecting Jaeyoung, at least.

His phone buzzes. I would appreciate an answer, Sangwoo says.

"Fuck," Jaeyoung says, out loud.

"What?" Hyeongtak asks.

"Nothing, go to sleep," Jaeyoung says. He picks up his phone. He texts back, Where are you?

---

It's even colder than Jaeyoung expected outside. The wind whips through the pillars outside the apartment building, and he huddles down into his coat collar and pulls his red beanie down over his ears. Sangwoo is sitting on the stone bench around the corner, hands tucked away in the pockets of his puffy coat, hat brim pulled down, and his mask pulled up almost enough to obscure his face.

Jaeyoung waits just behind a bush until Sangwoo stops looking for him and takes out his phone, and then speedwalks over before Sangwoo can look up.

"Are you looking up how to apologize?" he asks, and Sangwoo jolts and nearly drops his phone. It's exactly the effect Jaeyoung was going for. Unfortunately, it also makes Sangwoo's eyes go wide, which is a really good look on him.

"Hyung," Sangwoo says.

"Don't," Jaeyoung says, and sits down on the other end of the bench.

"You wanted me to call you that," Sangwoo says.

"Not anymore." The bench doesn't have a back, so Jaeyoung can't lounge insouciantly. He compromises by watching people walk by in a distracted fashion, like he isn't bothered at all.

Sangwoo doesn't say anything, though.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Jaeyoung says.

"I'm sorry," Sangwoo says.

"All right," Jaeyoung says.

"You should apologize, too," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung snorts. "Typical," he says, and gets to his feet.

"Wait," Sangwoo says. His eyes are still wide. "I said sorry."

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?" Jaeyoung asks.

"I wanted to talk to you about what you said. I wanted to ask you to teach me," Sangwoo says.

"Teach you," Jaeyoung echoes. "About what?"

"You said men who are afraid of looking like girls look– you know."

"'Unnatural,'" Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo flinches, like he's offended by his own words. "You've thought about how to be an idol a lot."

"Yes," Jaeyoung says. "Obviously I have."

"You could teach me how you do that, then," Sangwoo says. "How to be less like that. To seem less like that."

"That's what you want me to teach you?" Jaeyoung says. "Seriously?"

"Yes," Sangwoo says. "This is important. I need to know how to be touched."

"You just get touched, how is this–"

"You wouldn't, it wouldn't have to be anything personal. I wouldn't have to touch you," Sangwoo says.

"Let's never talk again," Jaeyoung says abruptly, and turns on his heel.

"Hyung, please–"

"Don't call me that," Jaeyoung says, and makes the mistake of looking back.

Sangwoo has tugged his mask down under his chin. His ears are folded by the loops. He's bare-faced, and there are red, inflamed spots on the apple of one of his cheeks. There's stubble on his upper lip and the corners of his soft mouth.

"Please," he says again.

"You didn't seem like you cared about touching before," Jaeyoung says.

"You were right. I need to adjust to the way that the industry is, if I want to be successful," Sangwoo says. He sounds both businesslike and sad. "And I've been told before that I should touch my members. People think I don't like them."

"So go to one of your members."

"I don't want to, not yet," Sangwoo says. "You're going to be more helpful."

Sangwoo has to know, he has to know, that if he makes his eyes big enough and pouts pretty enough, he'll get what he wants.

He's going to get what he wants.

"Give me a day to think about it," Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo pulls his mask back up over his nose. "A day," he says. "I'll look for your message."

---

Jaeyoung should say no. Of course he should say no.

"What are you staring at?" Hyeongtak says.

"Texts with Sangwoo," Jaeyoung says.

"You've been talking to him a lot," Hyeongtak says. He comes up to backhug Jaeyoung. Jaeyoung locks his phone. "What's he saying?"

"He asked me a question," Jaeyoung says. "A philosophical question."

"What's the question, then?"

"If you don't like someone's views, should you still help them?"

"Help them do what?"

"This is the thing, you'd be helping them do something that's good. Something good for them, and for their community, their family," Jaeyoung says.

"Yes," Hyeongtak says, promptly.

"Yes," Jaeyoung sighs. "Even though it means spending time with that person? The person whose views are bad?"

"Sure. It'll be a pain, but it's for a good reason, I guess." Hyeongtak slaps his shoulder. "Don't get worked up over a hypothetical from a dweeb," he says.

"Right, totally," Jaeyoung says, grateful that Hyeongtak is one of the denser people he knows.

He texts Sangwoo, Fine. We can try it once.

Thank you, Sangwoo sends back. Do you have time this week? We'll need to schedule.

"Unbelievable," Jaeyoung says, but he opens up his calendar app.

---

Jaeyoung spends the intervening few days second-guessing himself. He opens up his messages a few times to cancel, to tell Sangwoo to fuck off, but he always comes up with some reason not to do it.

Yuna would kill him if she knew. He doesn't tell her.

---

Sangwoo is waiting for him in the hallway outside of his studio. He's wearing a backpack, with his thumbs hooked over the straps at his shoulders; with his baseball cap and flannel overshirt, he looks younger than he is. Jaeyoung says, "You look like you're waiting for class to start."

"You're late," Sangwoo says.

"Back to normal," Jaeyoung says with a sigh, and lets him into the studio.

Inside, Jaeyoung puts his jacket up onto the hook and throws himself into his desk chair. "Sorry there isn't much room."

Sangwoo surveys the tiny space. He puts down his backpack on the floor and settles gingerly into the folding chair. "I have half an hour," he says.

"I remember," Jaeyoung says. He tweaks Sangwoo's bangs.

Sangwoo jerks away so hard he hits his head on the wall.

"It's just your hair," Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo touches his head. "You have to warn me," he says.

"That won't work," Jaeyoung says. He looks in Sangwoo's eyes this time, to give him even more time to prepare himself. He tweaks his bangs again, resettling them on Sangwoo's forehead. Sangwoo jerks away. "This is hopeless," Jaeyoung says.

"You've only done it twice," Sangwoo says. He settles his hands palm-down on his knees and takes a deep breath. "I can do it," he says.

Jaeyoung plucks at his hair, trying to give it some volume.

Sangwoo's hands clench on his knees, fingertips pale from the pressure.

"You look really comfortable," Jaeyoung says.

"I'm already better, and it was only three times. If I can get used to you doing it, it will be easy with my members." Sangwoo notices Jaeyoung's expression, and adds, "Because I know them better."

"Sure," Jaeyoung says. "Maybe if it's more continuous you'll do better. Lean forward. I'll pat your head."

Sangwoo looks unsure, but he leans forward, hinging at the waist. Jaeyoung rests his hand on the curve of his skull. His hair is soft, weighty; they must not make him bleach it that often.

They sit there. Jaeyoung pats his hair. Sangwoo breathes.

"That study method you use," Jaeyoung says. "The timer thing."

"Pomodoro," Sangwoo says.

"It's for managing tasks. This is a task, right?" Jaeyoung says. "So let's use it."

"You want to do twenty-five minute sessions of touching," Sangwoo says.

"No, no, never, no. Three. Three minutes."

"I can do three," Sangwoo says.

"And three-minute breaks," Jaeyoung adds.

"Yes," Sangwoo says.

It turns out to be a stroke of genius. The time limit calms them both down, and Sangwoo seems to do better with steady contact. Jaeyoung lets Sangwoo set the timer on his watch, just like their study session. By the end of the third session, Sangwoo doesn't even look like he's going to faint.

"Can I do something while we sit?" Sangwoo says, during their third break.

"What's that?" Jaeyoung says.

"Clean up your desktop," Sangwoo says, pointing to Jaeyoung's computer monitor.

"What? Why?"

"It's appalling," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung laughs. "Sure, go ahead. I don't really use anything on there."

"Switch seats with me," Sangwoo says, and they switch. It actually works better; the way they end up, Jaeyoung can rest his hand on Sangwoo's hair with his dominant hand and scroll with the other.

During the next work session, Sangwoo bitches about Jaeyoung's file hygiene and naming conventions. Jaeyoung scrolls and contributes to various groupchats that he's been ignoring. It's kind of nice, actually. It doesn't feel like Jaeyoung's made a stupid decision. When the alarm goes off, Sangwoo almost looks cheerful.

"That worked pretty well," Jaeyoung says.

"What did?" Sangwoo asks, dragging a file into one of the many folders he's created.

"Distracting yourself," Jaeyoung says. "You have to go now, right?"

"Oh. Yes," Sangwoo says. He drags and drops one more file and pushes away from the desk. "Don't do anything with your desktop. I'll do more the next time I'm here."

"Yes, hyung," Jaeyoung says.

"Don't get mouthy," Sangwoo says, with breathtaking informality. He looks unbearably smug when Jaeyoung makes a face. Jaeyoung doesn't bother telling him that his hair's all fucked up before he leaves.

---

"Clean your desk up," Sangwoo says, the fourth time he comes to Jaeyoung's studio. "I've been here several times, and that cup hasn't moved."

It's probably a good sign that Sangwoo is comfortable enough to be a dick, Jaeyoung reasons. Or, at least, that's how he justifies doing as he's told while Sangwoo stands in the doorway, frowning.

"Better?" he asks, when all the cups have been adequately emptied and thrown away.

Sangwoo sits down in his desk chair and wiggles his mouse to wake the computer up. "You should air your room out."

Jaeyoung sits in the other chair. "I'm going to put my legs up on yours," he says. "Easy contact. How long do you want to work for?"

"Five minutes," Sangwoo says. He taps his watch.

"Three, two, one," Jaeyoung says, and drops his feet in Sangwoo's lap. Sangwoo startles, but minutely. "Nice job."

"Please don't move while I'm working," Sangwoo says.

"I wouldn't think of it," Jaeyoung says, and gets to work scrolling on his phone.

Sangwoo rests his hand gingerly on one of Jaeyoung's shins and leans forward, chest not quite touching Jaeyoung's legs. He's already cleaned up Jaeyoung's desktop, down to a single folder and four program icons; he's now judgmentally renaming everything.

"What's 'yuna_sucks_jerk_butt dot psd'?" he asks.

"Sketch of a dog meme Yuna likes," Jaeyoung says.

"Finished or unfinished?"

"Finished but not sent. I'm saving it for the end of her comeback."

"You two are good friends," Sangwoo says. He renames the file "FINISHED-UNSENT-YunaDogMemeSketch-2022.psd" and drags it into the appropriate folder.

"Best friends," Jaeyoung says.

"I don't see you two together all that often," Sangwoo says.

"Her fans are intense. We hugged in public once and I got death threats for a month," Jaeyoung says.

"Oh," Sangwoo says.

"It's idol life," Jaeyoung says.

There's a long pause. "What's this 'haha dipshit' project file?" Sangwoo asks.

"Backing track for a possible song," Jaeyoung says. He sees Sangwoo open up Cubase before he's even done the sentence. "Don't mess with it."

"I won't," Sangwoo says, and then, "Is this by Yoojae?"

"How did you know?" Jaeyoung says.

"He loves this water drop sample, he always calls it ‘teardrop,'" Sangwoo says. "Tell him to change it up. He already put it in the title track for Eunbi."

"Will do," Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo's belly is pressed up against Jaeyoung's legs, and his elbow is resting on Jaeyoung's knee. His watch chirps; he startles again and moves back. Jaeyoung takes his feet off of his lap and rests them on the edge of the chair seat. "Five minute break," he says, and Sangwoo taps his watch. "Hey, have you decided who you're going to try skinship with? In your group?"

That gets Sangwoo to look away from the screen. His face is half-gold from the light in the hallway, half-blue from the computer screen. "Sungjoong, probably."

"What's he like?"

"He's our leader. Two years younger than me. Good at math. He's very dedicated," Sangwoo says.

"Was he the one who was in the elevator with you, when I saw you?"

"Yes."

"Then no, not him," Jaeyoung says.

"What?"

"What's your maknae like?" Jaeyoung asks, instead of I think Sungjoong's gay, I feel protective. He opens up a new window in his phone browser. "Tall?"

"Chungho? Taller than I am, shorter than you," Sangwoo says. "What's wrong with Sungjoong?"

Jaeyoung scrolls down and says "What's Chungho's personality?"

Sangwoo makes a face. "He's a joker."

"Is he funny?"

"Some people think so," Sangwoo says.

"You sound like an old professor," Jaeyoung says. He taps on the image search tab. Chungho has his natural hair in most of the pictures, typical bland maknae styling. He has an absurdly sharp jawline, a dork smile, and reeks of heterosexuality. "Him," Jaeyoung says.

"No," Sangwoo says.

"Who's the expert here?" Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo looks pained. "He'll make fun of me if I ask him," he says.

"No, he won't. He'll think it's cute. He'll fawn over you. I know this kind of guy." Jaeyoung laughs at Sangwoo's expression. "You don't have to make out with him."

"I wouldn't!" Sangwoo says, too harshly.

"You would never, right," Jaeyoung says. He takes a breath. He doesn't rise to the bait. "But you could lean on him a little."

"I don't lean," Sangwoo says.

"Shocking. Where are you with the comeback? It's in April?" Sangwoo's watch chirps, and Jaeyoung shoves his feet back in his lap.

"Ouch, careful. Yes, late April."

"Dance practices start soon."

"Yes," Sangwoo says. He taps his watch again to start the timer, a little late. He looks out of sorts.

"Meet me in the orange practice room next time, the one on your floor," Jaeyoung says. He pulls up his schedule and the schedule for the room. "No fights or girl group dancing this time. Just leaning."

"Leaning," Sangwoo says. He rests his hands on Jaeyoung's legs, so lightly that Jaeyoung almost can't feel it through the fabric. "Leaning," he says again, more decisively.

"Just like we've been doing," Jaeyoung says.

"Just like that," Sangwoo says.

---

For the first time, Jaeyoung gets there before Sangwoo. He dumps his bag in the corner and sits down facing the door, back against the orange wall.

This practice room hasn't changed since the first time he walked into it as a trainee. The smell of sweat; the crystallized condensation on the wall; the mirrors, spotted and streaked, that give a disorienting view of the room; the shining, squeaking pine floors. It's a room he's been humiliated and halfheartedly praised in, over and over again. It's comforting. There's only so many people who even know that this room exists. Even fewer who know what it feels like to be in here with a choreographer who hates you.

Sangwoo is staring at him through the door. Jaeyoung beckons him in.

"Hyeongtak barfed in that corner one time," he says, pointing across the room. "Right before debut. It went everywhere."

"Hello," Sangwoo says. "Why are you telling me that?"

"I'm feeling nostalgic. Come here, sit down."

Sangwoo comes and sits, half a meter away.

"Here, over here," Jaeyoung says, until Sangwoo scoots close enough. "Five minutes of leaning on my shoulder. You can take off your hat, if you want."

"No." Sangwoo taps at his watch. "Five minutes," he says, presses start, and puts his head into Jaeyoung's shoulder. It doesn't feel like a lean.

"Relax," Jaeyoung says.

"I am relaxed," Sangwoo says.

"Even robots can lie, I guess." Jaeyoung shrugs, joggling Sangwoo's head. "Hey, look at us. Look up. In the mirror."

Sangwoo raises his eyes. "What am I looking at?" he says.

Jaeyoung has seen himself like this a hundred, a thousand times before. Resting against the wall, knees up, a smaller boy leaning against his shoulder. Sangwoo doesn't look right, though. His neck is tense, and his hands are clenched in his lap. His eyes are boring into Jaeyoung's.

"We're both tired," Jaeyoung says.

"I'm not tired," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung shakes his head. "I'm telling you a story. We're tired. It's been a long practice."

"For the comeback."

"Yes, for the comeback. It's new choreography, a really hard one. You're on, I don't know, hour two of the practice," Jaeyoung says. "Everyone is starting to burn out. You're about to get your first real break, you'll have just enough time to go to the bathroom and refill your water bottle, talk shit about the choreographer. But Sungjoong isn't getting it, he's really struggling."

"Sungjoong is a good dancer," Sangwoo says.

"Whoever, then, the member who always struggles a little."

"Inseong," Sangwoo mutters.

"Inseong," Jaeyoung repeats. "So your maknae is sitting against the mirror, like I am."

"He does sit like that," Sangwoo says, absently. He's relaxing, finally, his head heavier on Jaeyoung's shoulder.

"When he's sitting like this, and you're ready to sit, then you come over, and you sit down next to him. And you lean on his shoulder," Jaeyoung says.

"That feels unfair," Sangwoo says. His brow is furrowing, but his hands are flat on his thighs, no longer clenched. "I shouldn't ask him to do that. Not when he's tired."

"He'll feel good," Jaeyoung says. "He'll feel like a grown-up, having hyung lean on him like this. Our mathyung, Youngkyun? He and I aren't that close, and I love it when he leans on me."

"Oh," Sangwoo says.

"Makes me feel like a big guy," Jaeyoung says, the confession easier in this room. "I mean, I am a big guy, obviously. It makes me feel important. Strong."

"You think Chungho will feel that way?" Sangwoo says quietly.

"He will," Jaeyoung says. He clears his throat. "And let's say the camera is over there, where Tak barfed. For the behind the scenes video, there's a voiceover, blah blah, Inseong talking about how he struggles to get choreography down, how grateful he is to whichever member helps him. But in the background, there you are, sitting with Chungho, leaning on him. The mean one is leaning on the maknae! So cute! Eeee!"

"I'm not mean," Sangwoo says.

"Mean, cold, serious, whatever," Jaeyoung says. "The point is: So cute! Eeee!"

The alarm chirps.

"Break," Sangwoo says. He sits up. He doesn't move away. They sit, side by side, looking at themselves in the mirror.

Jaeyoung looks away first, down at his phone.

In the next round, Sangwoo leans on him again, his cheek against Jaeyoung's shoulder. He relaxes quickly. By the end of the five minutes, he's curled up, just a little. His hands are tucked palm to palm between his knees.

"You're calmer," Jaeyoung says. He doesn't touch Sangwoo's ear, his shoulder, the soft line of his neck.

"This isn't bad," Sangwoo says. He sits up slowly.

"I'm a good teacher," Jaeyoung says. His voice is too loud. "You want to try something more advanced, then?"

"Advanced," Sangwoo says. "What is it?"

"Don't look so suspicious. Here, sit in front of me." Jaeyoung sets his feet apart, enough room between his knees for Sangwoo to comfortably fit.

Sangwoo scoots around on his butt. He settles in with more than a hand's width of space in between his ass and Jaeyoung's crotch, and hunches down over his crossed legs. "Are you going to put your feet on me or something?" he asks.

"Seated backhug," Jaeyoung says. He yanks on Sangwoo's shoulder until he falls back against Jaeyoung's chest.

Sangwoo goes rigid. Jaeyoung sighs. He shifts a bit to make it even more clear that he's not trying to grind on Sangwoo's ass.

Sangwoo makes a panicked noise. "What are you doing," he says.

"Calm down, it's nothing like that," Jaeyoung says.

"I wouldn't think that," Sangwoo says. "I would never think that-"

Jaeyoung adjusts again. Sangwoo's tension is making it impossible to get comfortable. "It'll be even less of a problem when it's Chungho, keep that in mind."

"How?" Sangwoo says. His face in the mirror is set in miserable lines.

"Well, for obvious reasons. Unless I was reading him wrong– he's probably had a girlfriend since he was like, ten years old, am I right?"

"Yes," Sangwoo says.

"So it will be less weird. Plus he's your maknae, that always makes things easier."

Sangwoo's face doesn't clear, but he bends his knees, bringing them up almost to his chest, and puts his arms around them. "I can do this," he says.

"It's just leaning, the same as we were doing before," Jaeyoung says. "Girls go crazy for this, too."

"Girls go crazy for it," Sangwoo repeats. "Right."

He's looking down at the ground, apparently unaware that Jaeyoung can see him. His hands are in fists. "How have you survived this long in kpop, seriously?" Jaeyoung asks.

"Two minutes. I can do two minutes," Sangwoo says, and taps his watch.

"You're going to give me a complex," Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo doesn't relax. Even when Jaeyoung tries to talk to him – tells him the story about the time his group went out drinking and almost caused an international incident with some German tourists – he doesn't unclench his fists or straighten out his legs. In the mirror, Jaeyoung can see his eyes continually jerking down to the watch face. When the alarm goes off, Sangwoo immediately rolls up into a crouch, away from Jaeyoung again.

"You're hurting my feelings," Jaeyoung says, trying to make it sound like a joke.

"Touching is difficult for me," Sangwoo says.

"You were doing well, though. And I warned you."

"You know this is different," Sangwoo says.

"How?" Jaeyoung says, harshly, wanting him to say it, but Sangwoo just shrugs.

"It's different."

"It's not, though. It's all just work."

Sangwoo's eyes meet his in the mirror again.

"This is part of your job. It doesn't matter how you feel about me–" Sangwoo opens his mouth, but Jaeyoung talks louder, faster, "–or whoever, Chungho, it doesn't matter how you feel about him, either. You're not doing this for feelings, you're doing this for that camera, over there." He points, waiting until Sangwoo looks at the empty corner where Jaeyoung sees a permanently-tired, permanently-annoyed camera guy squatting and filming b-roll.

"All of it is for video," Sangwoo says. "You don't feel anything?"

"Of course I feel things. I love my members. But I love my job, too. And loving my members on camera is my job." Jaeyoung rolls his shoulders and forces himself to relax against the mirror. "A part of my job," he amends. "Whatever, we can go back to leaning."

"No," Sangwoo says, too loud for the room. Then, more softly, "No, you're right. This is part of being an idol."

"I don't have to be doing this," Jaeyoung says.

"I know, hyung. Thank you," Sangwoo says. He comes out of his crouch, finally, and sits back in Jaeyoung's space. "We can do another session now."

"Sounds good," Jaeyoung says. "I'm just hanging out against a mirror here, you do whatever it is you want to do."

Sangwoo scoots back, slightly, and taps his watch. He curses, uncharacteristically, and pokes at it again. "Two minutes," he says.

Jaeyoung leans his head back against the mirror.

Sangwoo does better this time. His palms are flat where they're resting against his shins. He isn't quite as curled up; he's managed to get some space in between his chest and the tops of his thighs. But he still isn't relaxed, at all.

The problem is that Jaeyoung could have a crush on Sangwoo. Does, a little bit. He likes people who need care and attention.

They look good like this. Jaeyoung looks even bigger than he is, sheltering Sangwoo. If Sangwoo would just relax, it would be perfect.

"You can relax," Jaeyoung tries.

"Don't," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung looks down, trying automatically to see Sangwoo's face from up close, and sees Sangwoo's hands in his lap, instead. He's covering his crotch awkwardly, like a teenager in math class. "What," Jaeyoung says, and, "Oh."

Sangwoo's alarm goes off.

Sangwoo stands up, marches across the room, opens the A/V closet, wedges himself inside, and pulls the door shut behind him.

"Five minute break," he says, distinctly, through the wooden door.

"What," Jaeyoung says again.

The door remains closed. Sangwoo remains silent.

Jaeyoung gets up, bad knee twinging, and goes to the door. He tries the handle, and it turns slightly, but the door only bumps when he pulls on it. "Are you hanging onto the doorknob?" he says incredulously.

"Yes," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung lowers himself to the floor. He sighs. "Everyone has had a reaction to someone they aren't attracted to," he says, resisting the urge to say it in a childish singsong.

Sangwoo is silent.

"Our maknae? Sungjin?"

Silence.

"One time he was cuddling with me, and I rubbed his back. He got a boner. I'm practically that kid's mom, you know? And he's IU-sexual. He's never even looked at another human that way."

Silence.

Jaeyoung sighs. He looks around, even though he knows no one is in the room with them, and says, "I know you won't take this seriously, because of how I am. But I've gotten hard around guys I'm not attracted to, too. And I know the difference, firsthand, between attraction and reaction to– what would you call it? A physical stimulus?"

Still, stubborn silence.

"You're not used to touching, so you're going to have a reaction, especially when you're tense. There's probably something there about blood flow," Jaeyoung says.

"You're gay," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung's head jerks, automatically looking around again, and he says, "Don't–" before he catches himself. He leans closer to the door and says, "We talked about this, before. The last time we were in this room."

"You dated Eunha," Sangwoo says.

"I like both. Everyone knows that," Jaeyoung says. "And they know I dated that American producer last year, Terry. And one of our backup dancers, I dated a guy who was our backup dancer. People never stop talking about that one."

The doorknob rattles. "You like men," Sangwoo says.

"Yes? I'm confused," Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo opens the door. "You're not straight."

"Why are you being so bizarre?" Jaeyong asks plaintively.

Sangwoo says, "I'm going to kiss you."

"What?" Jaeyoung says, just before Sangwoo smashes lip-first into his face. Before he can properly react – pull him in, kiss him back, shove him, yell what yet again at the absolute top of his well-trained lungs – Sangwoo is up and running, shoes squeaking. He scoops up his bag mid-stride with impressive athleticism, and slams out the door.

Jaeyoung looks after him, for a very long moment.

He looks back, at the open door of the A/V closet.

He lies down.

---

When he finally sits up and finds his phone, he has fourteen text messages and a missed call. He almost shits himself until he sees what they're about.

When he gets back to the apartment, he says, "Why was everyone losing their minds about me missing movie night?"

"You never miss movie night," Siwoo says.

"We were worried," Youngkyun says.

Youngkyun is on his phone. Siwoo is in a big fuzzy sweater and has a tumbler of some kind of brown alcohol in his hand. Sungjin is buried in blankets and fidgeting with the remote, obviously antsy to start.

Hyeongtak has his arms folded. He is not looking at Jaeyoung. His face is set.

"Where were you?" Hyeongtak asks.

"With Sangwoo," Jaeyoung says, understanding as he does that he's making a mistake. "I was helping him with some stuff. For a live."

"Wow, another live," Hyeongtak says. He looks at the TV.

Jaeyoung sighs. "Let me get into pajamas," he says.

He forces himself in between Sungjin and Hyeongtak by sitting on them unceremoniously, and wedges his arm behind Hyeongtak. When that doesn't get Hyeongtak to look at him, he throws his leg over Hyeongtak's and bites his shoulder.

"Quit it," Hyeongtak whispers.

"Stop sulking," Jaeyoung whispers.

"Stop teasing," Hyeongtak says.

"Shut up, I'm watching my show," Sungjin says.

"You heard him, shut up. We're watching," Youngkyun says.

"Stop looking at your phone, then," Jaeyoung says snottily. Sungjin shushes him again, and Jaeyoung settles in with his chin on Hyeongtak's shoulder.

Hyeongtak holds up his sulking through the rest of the drama, through eating the ramen Siwoo makes, through Jaeyoung tagging along for his skincare routine, and through getting into their pajamas.

Jaeyoung holds up his covers. "Cuddles?" he says.

Hyeongtak turns over on his side, away from Jaeyoung.

Jaeyoung goes over and yanks up Hyeongtak's covers, clambering in before Hyeongtak can fight him off. "Darling," he says.

"I'm not your darling," Hyeongtak says.

"My little puppy," Jaeyoung says. "My tiny burnt fishcake."

"Don't tease me," Hyeongtak says.

"I can't know what's wrong unless you tell me," Jaeyoung sings. "And if I don't know, then I can't fix it. And if I can't fix it, we'll all die, horribly."

"You can't fix it," Hyeongtak says.

"I can try, for my precious flower petal," Jaeyoung says.

Hyeongtak has been relaxing back into him, drawn by the warmth and by Jaeyoung's extensive experience in cuddling him. "It's nothing," he tries.

"Nothing?" Jaeyoung says.

It takes a little wait, but Hyeongtak finally says, "You've been spending a lot of time with that kid."

"Sangwoo?"

"Yeah."

"You don't need to worry," Jaeyoung says.

"I know that, I'm not jealous," Hyeongtak says.

"Right, of course," Jaeyoung says.

He presses his cheek against Hyeongtak's hair. It's fried – going from white-blond to pink was brutal – and it's thin and scratchy against Jaeyoung's skin. Hyeongtak is small in Jaeyoung's arms, easy to hold. He smells familiar, like cheap shampoo and expensive moisturizer.

"I might like him," Jaeyoung admits.

"You have to be careful," Hyeongtak says. "You're not just making choices for yourself."

"I'm always careful with you all. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I am," Jaeyoung says.

"I know," Hyeongtak says. He takes a big breath, his back moving against Jaeyoung's front.

Their room has been their room since they were first transferred to this apartment. It was assumed he and Jaeyoung would be in the same room, because they were the same age, and because they had gotten along pretty well before then. There was something about living just the two of them, though; Jaeyoung's tendency to snooze his alarm eighteen times became a subject of extensive debate, and borrowing clothes turned into pitched battles over the closet. Hyeongtak's then-girlfriend got weird about Jaeyoung's sexual preferences, and Jaeyoung laid awake nights listening to Hyeongtak's relationship fail in whispered, blanket-covered conversations.

"Remember when you and Siwoo-hyung and I got diarrhea, at the first apartment?" Jaeyoung says.

"I couldn't forget that," Hyeongtak says.

"And how I had to shit in the tub next to you?"

Hyeongtak wheezes a laugh, his shoulders shaking. "It smelled so foul."

"I can't believe you all know what my insides smell like," Jaeyoung says. He smiles when Hyeongtak turns his face against the pillow, giggling. "Remember when hyung got dumped and he recorded the Oasis tribute album? Remember the listening party we had?"

"Shut up, I understand," Hyeongtak says, elbowing him.

"You don't have to worry about us. Nobody's like us," Jaeyoung says, just to be clear.

"Don't be dramatic," Hyeongtak says, as though he didn't just pout for an entire evening because Jaeyoung almost missed movie night. "And don't remind me about Gyunie-hyung's album."

"Don't look back in anger," Jaeyoung croons, and squeezes Hyeongtak tight.

---

The next morning, Jaeyoung comes into the kitchen to find Siwoo in his largest silky button-down and tiniest leggings, holding a mug and looking pensively out the window. His hair is immaculate. His skin is dewy. He makes an extremely pretty picture.

"Spit it out," Jaeyoung says.

"What, my tea?"

"You know what I mean," Jaeyoung says, taking out a pot and setting it down on the stovetop. "Is there rice?"

"There is, take as much as you want. Do we need to talk about Sangwoo?"

"That's more direct than usual," Jaeyoung says.

"I'm just checking in," Siwoo says, mildly.

"No, we don't need to talk about him," Jaeyoung says.

"Because the thing with Terry–"

"This isn't Terry," Jaeyoung says.

Siwoo hums. "It's a bad idea, though," he says. "Isn't it."

Jaeyoung pours a little oil into the pan. He tilts the pan to watch the oil swing around the curve.

"I'm not telling you what to do, I'm checking in," Siwoo says.

"I know," Jaeyoung says. "It's nothing."

"If you tell me what's happening, I can manage it," Siwoo says.

Jaeyoung looks over his shoulder. "Hyung," he says. "It's complicated, but I would tell you if I thought it was a thing. I don't think it's a thing."

Siwoo hums and slurps his coffee. "Do you have a schedule today?" he asks, a clear change of subject.

Jaeyoung shrugs. "Just going to the company."

"Cool," Siwoo says, and drifts out of the room.

---

Sangwoo doesn't text him.

Jaeyoung doesn't need much. He can admit that. He'd take just about anything, really. An apology. An explanation. Anything.

Jaeyoung goes to the gym about it, extra workouts that aren't in his fitness plan and would get him in trouble if anyone were paying attention. He spends a lot of time staring himself down in the mirror and checking his phone. Jang Jaeyoung, moderately-successful idol, noted pure visual, owner of three Gucci bags, glued to his phone in case someone who hasn't even gotten a music show win texts him.

He's sitting on the end of a weight bench, light and shivery from supersets, when he finally gets fed up about it. He opens up his messages with Sangwoo. Where are you? Right now.

It takes half an hour, but he gets a reply. I am at my studio. I will be here for approximately another three hours.

Cool, Jaeyoung sends back. I'm coming to see you.

When do you think you'll arrive?

I don't know. Ten minutes? Jaeyoung sends, and goes to take a long, long shower.

---

When he arrives, Sangwoo's door is tipped open slightly. Jaeyoung taps the edge of the door and looks in.

Sangwoo is in his desk chair. He's wearing the same black hat as he always does under a pair of absurd over-ear headphones. He doesn't look back. "I'm working," he says.

Jaeyoung steps back out of the room and shuts the door. He steps to the side, and he rests his forehead against the wall. He does breathing exercises. He doesn't scream.

It takes him five minutes of breathing, but he opens the door again. "How much longer until we can talk?" he asks politely.

"Fifteen minutes," Sangwoo says.

"Can't void your study session, even for this," Jaeyoung says, and folds himself up on the tiny couch that Sangwoo's managed to fit in against one wall.

He should write lyrics – he always should be writing lyrics – and he dutifully pulls up his note file of metaphors and ideas. After five minutes of staring at the back of Sangwoo's head, he opens his graphics app instead and starts a blank project.

"What was your favorite thing as a kid?" he asks Sangwoo.

He doesn't expect Sangwoo to hear him, much less answer, but he says, "Excavators."

"Like the construction equipment?" Jaeyoung asks.

"Be quiet," Sangwoo says. And then, "Yes. Construction equipment."

Jaeyoung image searches "construction excavator."

He's just started sketching over a good image when Sangwoo's watch chirps. "A guy could grow to hate that noise," he says.

"What are you working on?" Sangwoo says, sliding his headphones down to his neck and setting a new timer on his watch.

Jaeyoung tilts the tablet toward him. He says, "It was just something to draw."

"I like wheeled ones," Sangwoo says.

"What?"

Sangwoo doesn't lift his eyes from the screen. "Wheeled excavators. They're better in urban centers. More versatile, if they have outriggers. Faster."

"Faster," Jaeyoung says. "For when they have excavator races?"

"Yes," Sangwoo says.

"Your ears are red," Jaeyoung says. He tilts the tablet back up and searches "wheel excavator."

Sangwoo swivels back to the desk. Jaeyoung resolves himself to being ignored, but instead Sangwoo minimizes Cubase and puts the computer to sleep. He turns back around, and says, "I regret my actions."

Jaeyoung sits up. He flips the cover for his tablet closed.

Sangwoo is looking down at his lap, at his fingers laid flat on his thighs. The brim of his hat is covering most of his face, but Jaeyoung can see his mouth. It's set in a stubborn line

"Which actions do you regret?" Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo ducks his head. "The practice room," he says.

"You mean last time? When you kissed me?"

"Yes," Sangwoo says. "I'm sorry."

"The kissing didn't bother me," Jaeyoung says. "The time before that bothered me."

"The time before that?" Sangwoo says, looking up again.

Jaeyoung snorts. "The dancing live. When you called me unnatural."

"I wasn't– I didn't call you unnatural," Sangwoo says.

"Us, then. When you called us unnatural," Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo's hands are curling up on his thighs. Jaeyoung keeps his hands loose, his posture relaxed. Sangwoo says, "I didn't mean unnatural. I know that word is imprecise."

Jaeyoung laughs. "What did you mean to say, if not unnatural?" he says.

"It's unproductive," Sangwoo says.

"Love is unproductive?"

"Love is just a way of making people have sex," Sangwoo says.

"And sex is supposed to be productive," Jaeyoung says.

"I know people have it for other reasons," Sangwoo mutters, cutting his eyes away.

He looks so young.

Siwoo must have felt like this, Jaeyoung realizes, when he and Jaeyoung were trainees together. Jaeyoung had been more brash, more foolish, more experienced, but he was the same then as Sangwoo is now. He didn't understand.

Sangwoo's alarm goes off.

"Keep talking to me," Jaeyoung says.

"I should get back to work," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung doesn't have Sangwoo's big eyes, but he has to try. He says, "Talk to me a little longer, please. Just this one time."

Sangwoo looks torn, but he taps his watch and says, "Five minutes."

"Thank you," Jaeyoung says. "Do you want to kiss me again?"

Sangwoo stares at him.

Against all his instincts, Jaeyoung looks back in silence.

"Yes," Sangwoo says.

"But two men kissing is unproductive, and that bothers you," Jaeyoung says.

"I don't know what purpose it would have," Sangwoo says. "To kiss you. A man. To kiss a man. For a man to kiss a man."

"Right. Right," Jaeyoung says. He wants, so badly, to tease. Instead, he says, "What if it was a break?"

"A break?"

"Like when you study. Why take breaks? Why not study the whole time?"

"To keep from losing focus," Sangwoo says. He looks thoughtful. "You can reset, address anything that came up during your study session, do some data recording, that kind of thing. It's part of the organization of the time."

"So," Jaeyoung says, warming to his impulsive idea, "you have to take breaks as part of the sequencing of your time. It helps with the control."

"Yes," Sangwoo says.

"Those breaks aren't wasted time, they're part of being productive," Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo squints at him. "Are you trying to get me to kiss you?" he asks.

"Yes," Jaeyoung says, unabashed. "Think of it as me making a case for wasting time. But you'll still be working."

Sangwoo says, "Are you making fun of me?"

"No, no," Jaeyoung says. "I mean it. Try it, come here."

The room is barely larger than a closet; when Sangwoo gets to his feet, he's already almost close enough to kiss. Jaeyoung takes hold of his hips and draws him in to stand between Jaeyoung's knees.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," Sangwoo says.

"I can't tell you," Jaeyoung says. "But I think it's worth a try. If you want to."

He doesn't think it will happen, really, not until Sangwoo bends down to kiss him, close-mouthed.

"Open up," Jaeyoung says, "please," and Sangwoo does. It's still clumsy, barely any tongue. Jaeyoung squeezes his hips to feel him shiver.

Sangwoo's watch chirps directly in his ear.

"I really hate that sound," Jaeyoung says, but he smiles at Sangwoo. "Ready to go back to work?"

Sangwoo taps his watch. "Yes. I have things to do."

"Of course," Jaeyoung says. He picks up his tablet.

Sangwoo hesitates for a moment, which feels like a reward for Jaeyoung's efforts at being blasé. "Another twenty-five minutes," he says quietly, and goes back to his chair.

"Sure," Jaeyoung says. "What's your favorite flower?"

"Peony," Sangwoo says.

"That's royal of you," Jaeyoung says.

"My mom likes them," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung pulls up his browser for an image search. "What are you working on?" he asks.

"Be quiet," Sangwoo says.

"I would have asked during the break, but we were busy," Jaeyoung says, smirking to himself.

He looks up from his tablet to see if Sangwoo's shoulders have tensed, but it's even better than that. Sangwoo is looking at him. Not at his computer. At Jaeyoung.

"It's a track," Sangwoo says. "They might use it on the comeback after this, maybe. If they like it. I had Sungjoong record the guides."

"Cool," Jaeyoung says. He feels giddy; his stylus skips against the screen until he squeezes it tight. "You should focus now, you have a work session."

"I am. I was. You interrupted me," Sangwoo says, and turns back to his computer.

When the alarm sounds, Jaeyoung has the start of a black and white sketch of a wheeled excavator with outriggers and a bunch of saved pictures of peonies. It's the start of something. He locks his tablet screen before Sangwoo can get a proper look at it and reels Sangwoo back in between his knees. "Come on, don't waste your break," he says, and gets Sangwoo bending over him, one hand on the back of the couch, one hand resting light on his cheek.

Jaeyoung rubs the front of Sangwoo's thighs, letting his palms slide and catch on the fabric of his track pants. His hands and lips are starting to go numb when the alarm chirps.

"Work," Sangwoo says.

His hat is crooked. Jaeyoung taps the brim, and then knocks it off for good measure. "Yah, leave it," he says, when Sangwoo stoops down, but Sangwoo is only picking it up to put on the desk.

They work in silence again. When the alarm goes off, Sangwoo takes off his headphones and comes to Jaeyoung easily, no hesitation, no need for convincing. His kisses are more assured already. It's hard to think.

The alarm chirps in Jaeyoung's ear. "Back to work," Jaeyoung says, instead of wait and please.

"Twenty minutes," Sangwoo says. He takes his hands off of Jaeyoung's face and turns back to his desk chair.

"Twenty?" Jaeyoung says.

"I completed my most serious task," Sangwoo says, putting on his headphones. "I was planning on this, on shorter tasks. This isn't because of the kissing."

"I didn't think it was," Jaeyoung says. "I'm fine with twenty minutes."

Jaeyoung applies layers of color on the excavator. Sangwoo's ears stick out slightly. He clips out peonies. Sangwoo's hair is flattened slightly against his head. He tries some crosshatching and erases it. Sangwoo's shirt is wrinkled between his shoulderblades. He looks for more peonies. Sangwoo looks back over his shoulder and says, "Stop staring at me."

"Don't void your work session," Jaeyoung says. "If you're distracted, make a note in your log."

Sangwoo mutters something; Jaeyoung, with good grace, doesn't call him out on it.

When the alarm chirps, Sangwoo comes up off of his chair and bends over him, pressing Jaeyoung back. He puts one knee up on the couch, right next to Jaeyoung's thigh. His mouth is open and wet when Jaeyoung strains up to meet him. Jaeyoung rubs Sangwoo's thighs again, soothing, and the tip of his thumb accidentally brushes against Sangwoo's cock.

They both still. Sangwoo pulls back, slightly. His mouth is hanging open.

"Sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to do that."

"It's all right, if," Sangwoo says.

"If?"

"If you would want to," Sangwoo says.

"If I would want to what?" Jaeyoung says.

"Touch me," Sangwoo says. "That would be all right."

"You don't have to," Jaeyoung says. "But you should get up, maybe. Kiss me standing up."

Sangwoo's hands tighten on Jaeyoung's shoulders. He gets his other knee up on the couch, straddling Jaeyoung's legs. He eases his weight down.

"Fuck, shit, fuck," Jaeyoung says, like an absolute idiot.

"You could-" Sangwoo starts.

Sangwoo's alarm goes off.

"I'm going to break your watch into pieces and eat them," Jaeyoung says. He takes his hands off of Sangwoo and shoves them under his own ass. "Don't give me that look. I won't. Go ahead and work. Be productive."

"Ten minutes," Sangwoo says, looking strained. "I have a ten-minute task."

When he gets up, Jaeyoung takes his hands back out from underneath him. He picks up his tablet. He saves his file and opens a blank one. He draws spirals in contrasting colors for ten minutes.

When the alarm goes off, Jaeyoung puts his tablet on the floor. Sangwoo moves quickly. He presses Jaeyoung back against the couch again as soon as he sits up, kisses him insistently. Jaeyoung strains up into the kiss, desperate, and thinks five minutes, shit.

He pulls back and says, "Wait, did you still want to?"

"Yes," Sangwoo says. "What?"

"Touch more," Jaeyoung says.

"Yes," Sangwoo says.

"Come here, then," Jaeyoung says. He throws one leg up across the seat, and wedges his back against the arm of the couch. He says, "Come here. Sit like we did in the practice room."

Sangwoo does it, wordlessly, letting Jaeyoung pull him into the cradle of his hips. This time Jaeyoung doesn't bother to shift.

"Is this all right?" Jaeyoung says, mouth against Sangwoo's ear, and delights in Sangwoo's hand clawing at his knee, at the way Sangwoo cranes his neck to get a glancing kiss.

"Yes," Sangwoo says, pulling away, "yes, touch me, please."

"So polite," Jaeyoung says. He runs his hand down the front of Sangwoo's pants and holds him, feeling the shape of his cock, barely moving his hand. "Is this all right?" "Under," Sangwoo says. "Put your hand under." "Greedy," Jaeyoung says, as though he isn't feeling the same. He slides his hand under the waistband. The skin there is soft, hot. He catches a glimpse of the root of Sangwoo's cock, thready hair, and closes his hand around him. "Shit, you're cut, wait," he says, and pulls his hand out. "No, no, one second, wait," he says, and jerks at the strap of his bag, spilling its contents onto the floor.

"Your bag–" Sangwoo says.

"Fuck my bag," Jaeyoung says, and comes up, finally, with the cheap bottle of hand lotion he knew he had.

"You're cleaning that up," Sangwoo says, but he quiets when Jaeyoung shoves his hand back into his pants and closes a slick hand on his cock.

Jaeyoung loves this. Loves holding someone's body close to his; loves his hand moving under layers of cloth, the pressure, the sweat and scratch. Loves feeling Sangwoo getting harder in his hand. Hearing him panting.

When Jaeyoung turns his head and lips at Sangwoo's ear, Sangwoo arches and exhales, shaky, barely audible over the click and rattle of his desktop tower. Silent as every other idol Jaeyoung has seen like this. Jaeyoung imagines him, in the dim darkness of a shared room, under the covers, face pressed against his pillow, fucking his hand as quiet as he can so no one can hear.

The alarm goes off.

"Oh," Sangwoo says.

Jaeyoung takes his hand off of his cock and takes it out from under the waistband.

Sangwoo says, "Wait," raggedly.

"Do you have a five-minute task?" Jaeyoung says. He clears his throat. "You said you have to work. I don't want to make you not work. You have to, sequence your time. Make it less slippery."

Sangwoo sits up, hunched over his own lap. He pushes himself up. "Two minutes," he says. "I have two-minute tasks."

"You can't have work periods shorter than rest periods," Jaeyoung says. His hand is covered in lotion. He doesn't know where to put it. "You'd have to limit the breaks to two minutes."

Sangwoo's eyes close. "Two minutes," he says.

Jaeyoung doesn't do anything for the two minute work session. He doesn't even bother to move. Sangwoo doesn't sit down; he shoves his chair to one side and leans over the desk.

When the alarm goes off, Jaeyoung squeezes lotion onto his hand, and Sangwoo launches himself back at the couch, laying back against Jaeyoung's chest and shoving at his own waistband so Jaeyoung can get his wet hand inside. Jaeyoung pulls the hem of Sangwoo's hoodie up and sticks his other hand under, so he can drag it across the soft flesh of Sangwoo's chest and tuck his fingers into the hot damp fold of his armpit. Sangwoo gasps, and his hips hunch up into Jaeyoung's hand; Jaeyoung stops moving his wrist, just makes a tight circle with his forefinger and thumb to give Sangwoo something to fuck through. Sangwoo is almost making noise, his breath coming out strained in his throat, but Jaeyoung can see the numbers ticking down, and down, and–

The alarm goes off. Jaeyoung yanks out both of his hands and grabs hold of the couch cushion on either side.

"I can't," Sangwoo says.

"Two minutes," Jaeyoung says.

"I can't," Sangwoo repeats.

"I'm so turned on. I hope this is working for you. I'm insane. Go click on something," Jaeyoung says harshly.

Sangwoo is unsteady on his feet. He says "set timer two minutes, start" into his watch after stabbing at it doesn't work. He clicks on something. "Why am I doing this," he says.

"I could blow you in that chair," Jaeyoung says. "I don't think it would even hurt my back. It elevates pretty high, doesn't it?"

"Fuck you," Sangwoo says plaintively.

"That too," Jaeyoung says, thrilled. "I mean it, this is doing it for me, you have no idea."

The alarm goes off, and this time he goes to Sangwoo before he can get up. He yanks Sangwoo's pants down enough to get his cock out. He leans over him and says, close to his ear, "You don't have much time, come on, you'll have to wait again."

Sangwoo makes a noise as he comes, arching up into Jaeyoung's grip, head banged back against the chair. Jaeyoung squeezes his hand tight, lets Sangwoo fuck it until he's done.

"Tissues next to the couch," Sangwoo says, after a minute. The alarm chirps, and he taps it. "I'm done, this is a longer break. I could, um. Touch you back."

Jaeyoung giggles, high and giddy and embarrassing. He sits back down on the couch and opens his jeans, eases out his cock and says, "I'm not going to last that long, let me do it."

"Pull up your shirt," Sangwoo says.

"You want a show?" Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo makes a face. "You'll get come on it if you don't."

Jaeyoung laughs and yanks his shirt hem up. "Of course," he says.

Sangwoo is slumped back in his chair, eyes nearly shut, looking more like a louche emperor than a sulky idol. He would be terrible at sucking dick, Jaeyoung thinks, guiltily, but his lips would look incredible. He would try to take too much too soon, of course he would, and he'd sputter and give Jaeyoung a look like it was his fault; that look, that prissy wet-cat look–

"Shit," Jaeyoung says, and curls in on himself when he comes.

---

He manages to get come on his shirt.

He changes into his hoodie and takes it to the bathroom to scrub it off. Sangwoo doesn't come with him. Why would he, anyway? It would only be strange if he did.

Jaeyoung gets the shirt into passable shape and wrings it out.

When he gets back to the studio, Sangwoo's still in the desk chair. He's neatened up, though, straightened his clothes and put his cap on his head. Jaeyoung wants to say something like that felt pretty productive, something that will make Sangwoo say that he liked it. He doesn't get the words out before Sangwoo says, "Pick up the things on the floor, please."

"Afterglow," Jaeyoung says, but obediently stoops down to pick up the scattered things that he dumped out of his bag.

When he sits down with a sigh, Sangwoo is still staring at him. Jaeyoung opens his mouth to say something, something convincing, but Sangwoo says, "Let me see the picture on your tablet."

Jaeyoung raises an eyebrow, but he unlocks the tablet and hands it over.

Sangwoo looks at it for longer than Jaeyoung expects, resting two fingers on the screen and shifting the picture in small increments. He hands it back. "Why didn't you become a graphic designer?"

"You think it's that good?"

"Graphic design is a far more lucrative and stable industry," Sangwoo says, "with little danger of aging out. It would be the smarter choice."

Jaeyoung laughs. "And waste this beautiful face?" he says.

"A beautiful face is an asset in any social situation," Sangwoo says.

"Still a waste," Jaeyoung says.

Sangwoo shakes his head. "You enjoy casually talking with people, and wasting time. Neither of those things are possible when you're an idol."

"I talk to people all day," Jaeyoung says.

"Not the way you would," Sangwoo says. "Not like the woman who was a dog trainer."

"You remember that?"

"You couldn't have talked to her while you were an idol," Sangwoo says.

"No. I was, I think I was a trainee," Jaeyoung says. "I guess you're right."

"So why do this?" Sangwoo says.

"This is your idea of post-coital conversation?" Jaeyoung says. He shrugs. "The obvious reasons. I'm very tall. I build muscle easily. I have good hair. I can rap and sing well enough to get by. It's a fast track to an acting career."

"It's not your only dream, though, is it?" Sangwoo says.

"A girl stalked me in middle school," Jaeyoung continues. Sangwoo frowns. "She was nice about it, it wasn't scary or anything, but it was weird. Younger girls followed me around in between classes. Guys wouldn't invite me places when girls they liked would be there. I'm not whining, it wasn't bad. But auditioning made sense."

"Even though you like men," Sangwoo says.

"That's why you want to talk about it?" Jaeyoung says. "You do know that there's a lot of us, right? I told you."

"You didn't tell me," Sangwoo says. Before Jaeyoung can correct him, he adds, "But it's harder to be like that, when you're an idol."

"Harder, easier," Jaeyoung says. "You could have done something else, yourself. Driven an excavator."

"No, I couldn't," Sangwoo says, with his typical finality.

Jaeyoung laughs. "Come on–"

"I liked excavators when I was very small. I slept with one, a metal one. I dreamed about being one. But then I saw T-ara, and my ambitions changed," Sangwoo says. "They haven't changed since. I want to make music. That's all I want to do."

"That's the impression you gave me," Jaeyoung says. They stare at each other. "Am I missing something?"

Sangwoo finally looks mildly uncomfortable. "This, what we did, it was a good experiment. I don't regret it. But it was a bad idea. My work was shoddy. I'm going to be distracted in my studio for the next few days. This is– this is why it's dangerous, to do unproductive things."

"Oh," Jaeyoung says.

"You're also my sunbae, which is inappropriate. It could endanger both of our groups," Sangwoo says.

"That's true," Jaeyoung says.

"You have alternatives, you know," Sangwoo says. "This is who I am."

Jaeyoung shakes his head. "Of course. Of course."

"I'm sorry if–"

"Shut up," Jaeyoung says harshly. "Whatever, I'm not going to fight to date you." It's a good exit line, so of course he nearly drops his bag and says, "Text me, I guess. If you need anything," before he leaves the room.

He means to walk down the hallway to the elevator. He really does. And he's going to. But for right now, he thinks, for right now he's allowed to get a couple of meters away, and then sit against the wall. It's not like he's crying. No one would know why he's sitting there. He could just be resting. He looks normal.

He opens his chat with Yuna and sends had sex with the hoobae and then got told I wasn't worth it hahahaha Fridays am I right. Then he texts to get a ride back to the dorm.

He takes a long, deep breath. He gets his feet underneath him and uses the wall to push himself up.

Sangwoo's studio door bangs open. Sangwoo comes rushing out, down the hallway; he's moving so fast that he makes it a couple of meters before he sees Jaeyoung and stumbles to a halt.

"I was just sitting," Jaeyoung says.

"I didn't mean no," Sangwoo says.

"You didn't mean no," Jaeyoung repeats, stupidly.

Sangwoo shakes his head. His eyes are rubbed red. His cheeks are blotchy.

"You told me I should be a graphic designer," Jaeyoung says. "And that what we did was wrong."

"It wasn't wrong. It's a bad idea," Sangwoo says.

"It is," Jaeyoung says.

"That isn't a no," Sangwoo says. "I just need to think. I can't think around you. You're so irritating."

"I'm irritating?"

"Yes!" Sangwoo yells.

They both go still.

No one pokes their head out from any of the other doors.

"Then what if I say no?" Jaeyoung says, hushed. "What if I get sick of this?"

Sangwoo straightens up. "Well, then tell me no."

"It isn't a no," Jaeyoung says.

"We'll take time," Sangwoo says firmly. "Think about it. Take a full day. Consider your needs."

"Needs?" Jaeyoung asks.

"Emotional needs, uh, social needs," Sangwoo says. He looks vaguely panicked.

"You're a maniac," Jaeyoung says.

This time, Sangwoo's the one who says, "I'll text you. You can text me. I'll– I'll text you," before he goes back through the studio door.

---

Yuna tries video calling him twice during his ride home, the second time despite his message that he's in the car. He answers her third call while he's taking off his shoes, and puts the phone on the floor. The dorm is silent. "I'm fine," he says.

"I'm going to hit him with a company car," Yuna says.

"Where are you?"

"Parking garage," Yuna says. "Picking out a car to get fucking bloodstains on."

"Violence is wrong," Jaeyoung says, picking up the phone. Yuna is in bed, her head on her pillow. Her eyes are puffy, and her hair's half in her face. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Fuck off," she says. "I'm not kidding. I'm going to tell our fans he hit on Jihye. He'll die tomorrow."

"We talked again after I texted you," Jaeyoung says, pushing the door to his room open with his shoulder, grateful again that he's alone. "He said that he didn't mean it was a no."

"Oh, so he's, what, going back and forth on if you're worth it? Cute. I'm telling our fans he groped Jihye," she says.

"Don't, don't," Jaeyoung says. "Yuna, please."

She squints at him. "You mean it?"

"I mean it," Jaeyoung says.

"No murder," she says.

"You've never even slapped someone," he says. He sits down on the edge of his bed with a sigh.

"I could slap somebody," Yuna says. "I could slap him, easily. I'll slap him."

"I'm not mad at him," Jaeyoung says. "He wasn't a jerk about it. Not really. He was the normal amount of jerk. He just pointed out that it was a bad idea."

"That you were a bad idea?" Yuna says.

"That sex was a bad idea. And, you know, he's not wrong. We could get in trouble. We could lose our jobs, or hurt our groups."

"Come on, who else do idols date?" she says. "It's that or a makeup unnie. Or a backup dancer."

"Not two men at the same company," he says. "Sangwoo said, he said he can't do anything but be an idol. It would ruin his life."

"But he didn't say no," Yuna says.

"He said he wasn't saying no. But that it was a bad idea," Jaeyoung says.

"What do you think?" Yuna asks.

"I don't know. It is a bad idea. Tak and Siwoo-hyung were weird about it. But I guess I like him." He picks at one of his fingernails. "I don't know why."

"Idiot," Yuna says. She sits up. She has a crease in her cheek from her pillow; she must have slept all afternoon and into evening.

"Have you eaten?" Jaeyoung asks.

"Unnie's bringing back dinner," she says.

"Are you sick?"

"Stop it," she says irritably. "I'm going to be wise at you."

"You? Wise?" Jaeyoung says, but it's rote, and she doesn't deign it with a response.

"Don't bother worrying about his decision," she says. "You can make a decision for yourself, and then he can do the same."

"That's not wisdom," Jaeyoung says.

"And just because he's a dramatic, fatalistic idiot," she continues, "doesn't mean you have to be one, too. Just make a decision about what you want. Not what you should do, not what could happen. What you want."

Jaeyoung closes his eyes. "All right. That's closer to wisdom. I'm putting on pajamas."

He props his phone on the top of his dresser and changes into his softest, oldest clothes, ragged sweats and an old holey t-shirt. "I got this when I was a trainee," he says, holding the t-shirt out away from his torso.

"Don't you try to get symbolic on me," Yuna says. "You have too many abs to use symbolism."

"You just lectured me, I get a pass," he whines. "I was fifteen when I first auditioned. Fifteen! I haven't done anything else. I can't do anything else. What, am I going to go back to high school?"

"I see you're going to ignore my instructions not to be a dramatic little shit."

"Feel sorry for me," he says.

"Oh, believe me, I do," she says drily.

"Ugh, shut up," he says, and sits heavily on his bed. "Sorry."

Yuna sighs. She says, "I saw Miyeon the other day."

"Oh," Jaeyoung says.

"Yeah," Yuna says.

Miyeon had been in Yuna's group for over a year. She'd been their main dancer, one of their limited number of English speakers. She'd been there for their first win. Then she'd melted down, gone on hiatus, and never come back. The group had struggled because of it, for a little while. Fans still brought her up. "How is she?" he asks.

"She's fine. Living with her parents. Working for her uncle. She has a boyfriend. He sounds boring." Yuna presses her lips into a line, shrugs her shoulders. "She seemed embarrassed to see me."

"I would be, too," Jaeyoung says.

Yuna laughs. "That's the thing, though. I'm hungry all the time, you know? I hate variety shows. I had to wear furry chaps for one of our stages. I live in the same room as two other girls. I haven't jerked off outside of a shower in years, and I only recently started getting paid. That's pretty embarrassing."

Jaeyoung doesn't know what else to say but, "This is a really shitty pep talk, just so you know."

"My point is, why not be happy?" Yuna asks. "Disappoint some people on purpose. Get laid."

"It's not just the sex," he admits. "He drives me crazy."

"Crazy, huh," she says.

"Crazier," he says. "I feel stupid."

She laughs. "I have good news. Did I tell you he came and asked me about you?"

"What?" he asks, with a sudden rush of delight. "You know you didn't tell me. What did he say?"

"He asked how many people you dated."

"Did you tell him?"

"Of course. I made a big deal out of how many people there were, too, even though it wasn't even that many."

"Yuna," he says.

"Don't worry, he needed to know you're hot shit," she says.

"God," he says.

"It's a good thing," she says. "Look, make a decision. Text him. Tell him you want to suck his dick next time, guys love that."

"You're disgusting," he says fondly.

"Unnie's back with my food. You owe me wisdom."

"I'll send you a voucher. One lecture on how pathetic you are," he says.

"You're welcome," she says, "love you, bye."

---

The next day, Jaeyoung sits on the floor of his dorm room, back against his bed, phone loosely held in his hands.

Sangwoo is a beautiful man, obviously. So is Jaeyoung. It's their job to be symmetrical, as Sangwoo might say. More to the point, Jaeyoung finds him beautiful. He likes looking at him. And he finds him sexy, too; he can think of three things, right that moment, that he'd very much like to do to Sangwoo's knees.

Jaeyoung drops his head back against his bed. He lets his legs slide out straight on the floor.

After their first few meetings, Jaeyoung would have called Sangwoo rude, judgemental, and a little unpleasant.

Sangwoo chooses things to care about, and he cares about them. He doesn't care about other people's opinions, but he's also unwilling to deceive them. There's an optimism in that, and a vulnerability. Jaeyoung can't relate to it, can't fathom pursuing something with the belief that it's worth doing. Selfishly, Jaeyoung would like to be one of those things that Sangwoo cares about.

I hate thinking, he tells Yuna.

Not your strength, she says.

Why are you on your phone, get back to work.

Can you stop being boring soon? she says. I want to be the one in crisis. It's my turn.

Give me two days, he says.

She sends him four kiss emojis and a barfing face.

Jaeyoung switches to his messages with Sangwoo. He takes a deep breath. I'd like to be with you, he writes. But that means that I would need to be with you, not someone else.

So I would like you to be comfortable. And not change.
I think you want to change yourself to be a better idol.
But I think the reason why people like you is because you don't change.
You don't move.
And one of the things that makes you yourself is who you want.
I think you should want who you want.
And I'm hoping I'm who you want.
You're who I want.
Even though you're horrible.
Also we should do mouth stuff next time.
Talk to you later.

He scrolls back up to reread the messages. Vulnerable. Optimistic. He wants to break his own neck. He's in the middle of writing, The mouth stuff is optional, obviously, when his phone buzzes.

You make some good points, Sangwoo says.

"What the fuck," Jaeyoung says, out loud, in his empty room. He writes, That's not an answer, asshole.

I told you my feelings, Sangwoo says.

When? Where? What feelings? Your feeling that it was a bad idea?

Sangwoo types for a long time, but the only thing that pops up is, When I said I would consider the bad idea. Then, Meet me at my studio today if possible, between noon and 2 p.m.

Sure, Jaeyoung says, and leaves it, unwillingly, at that.

---

Jaeyoung arrives at noon, sharp.

Sangwoo is standing in the hallway with Chungho. When he sees Jaeyoung, his face clears. Chungho looks over, too, and says something that gets him a dirty look before he turns to walk away.

"Hey," Jaeyoung calls. Chungho looks back, but only to raise his hand in acknowledgement. "Too cool to say a proper hello to his sunbae?"

Sangwoo snorts and looks away, after Chungho, and says "Maknae."

And Jaeyoung has a vision, right there, surrounded by flaking paint and spotty linoleum and humming fluorescent lights.

Sangwoo's going to come with him back home, to his mother and father's house. He's going to have dinner with them. He's going to meet Jaeyoung's impossible, irrepressible grandmother. They are going to bond in such a way that Jaeyoung's life will never be the same.

Jaeyoung hasn't come out to his grandmother. He never will, for both their sakes. But, he thinks, she'll meet Sangwoo, and she'll know without words that Jaeyoung's doing all right. That he's going to be happy. That she doesn't have to worry.

"We should date," Jaeyoung says.

"I'm open to that," Sangwoo says.

"Oh," Jaeyoung says. "That was easy."

"I told you you made some good points," Sangwoo says.

"Was it the mouth stuff?" Jaeyoung asks. "Don't answer that."

"I remembered how I felt about T-ara, when I first saw them," Sangwoo says. "They made me angry."

"Angry?" Jaeyoung says.

"Yes," Sangwoo says. He looks uncomfortable. "I didn't like how much I liked them."

"Oh," Jaeyoung says.

"You make me very angry," Sangwoo says.

"I understand," Jaeyoung says, gently. "Do you want dinner, later? I'll bring you dinner."

"I eat at the cafeteria," Sangwoo says.

"Obviously," Jaeyoung says. "I can order for you, then. Broccoli, lots of broccoli."

Sangwoo looks irritated. "I'll message you what I want," he says. And then he goes up on his toes and kisses Jaeyoung, quick, on the corner of his mouth.

"Kiss the other side," Jaeyoung says.

"We need to talk about boundaries," Sangwoo says. "I came up with rules. We'll have to negotiate some of the finer points."

"I want to lick your knees," Jaeyoung says, apologetically. Sangwoo's mouth drops open. Jaeyoung has never felt so alive.

"The first rule is that you need to let me work," Sangwoo says darkly, and turns to open his studio. Jaeyoung probably looks stupid, staring at him, but Sangwoo's ears are red.

"Can I come in?" Jaeyoung asks.

"No. Rule one," Sangwoo says. He gets the door in between them and says, "I thought we would be talking for longer, but you're obviously in no mood to be objective."

"No, I'm really not," Jaeyoung says, and doesn't add any of the comments he wants to add. "Text me."

"I'll text you," Sangwoo says, and closes the door.

Jaeyoung pivots. He takes his phone out of his pocket, and sends Siwoo, We need to talk really soon, sorry, I'm pregnant with Sangwoo's baby.

He sends Yuna, Thanks.

---

Jaeyoung has nothing to do.

He has things he could do. He could go and make sure Hyeongtak knows he's Jaeyoung's special baby. He could go clean the apartment. He could, for once in his life, actually write lyrics.

He opens up the live app instead and starts a stream. He shoulders open the door into the stairwell, a cold and bleak little spot that smells like cigarette smoke. The light is terrible. He looks spotty.

He sets his phone down on the step, and rearranges the things in his bag until he finds the half-empty bag of chips he stashed that morning. When he picks up his phone, there are already a bunch of people. "Hi everyone," he says.

Where's Sangwoo? someone asks.

Jaeyoung feels the joy of making an impulsive decision expanding to fill his chest.

"Where's Sangwoo? I don't know. Probably doing something very serious," Jaeyoung says. "I promise you, I'll bother him soon."