Chapter Text
After having his toes crushed under a lead foot and his ass molested by yet another sweaty and most likely drunk jerk, Junhui is ready to cry and yell at Soonyoung that he wants to go home. Although that would prove to be extremely difficult seeing as his screams of disgruntlement would never be able to beat the cheers and yelling of the crowd around them, much less the power behind the amplifiers set on either side of the massive stage.
When Soonyoung invited him to the concert, he had personally guaranteed that Junhui would have fun. Well, there wasn’t much enjoyment being squished between odorous and drunk college students screaming right by his ears about a band that Junhui had never even heard of. Not to mention the flashing lights that have probably caused permanent damage to his retinas, and the booming bass that pretty much made it impossible for him to even think without his temples throbbing.
Moreover, it’s hot. And humid. It feels gross enough when your own sweat drenches your clothes and causes them to plaster against your skin. It’s a hundred times more disgusting when you’re surrounded by strangers, and their clammy skin sticks to you on all sides. All the more terrifying when one of them starts grinding on you. Over the past twenty minutes, Junhui’s already had to switch places multiple times with Jihoon and Seungkwan in order to escape. Thank goodness his friends were good people. Suppressing a whine, he dodges a flying elbow, pulling Hansol out of the way of the sloshing cup. He receives a grateful grin and a pat on the hand, which he tries to return, but doesn’t succeed very well. Junhui isn’t sure if the reason for the nausea is triggered by the smell of cheap beer mingled with pungent body spray, or if it’s the whole experience in combination with his pounding headache.
The distressed concert-goer blames Soonyoung for landing him in the middle of this sea of frenzied fans, because it’s always easier to blame someone else for your problems. But really, it’s all his own fault. First week at a new school, friendless, stressed and scared. He didn’t want to become bothersome and complain, even though this type of outing is so out of his comfort zone, he might as well be floating in outer space. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to go back to his room right now, curl up with a book, where his toes are safe from strangers’ shoes and his ass from groping hands.
But Soonyoung and the rest of them had been so nice to invite him along, he couldn’t say no without feeling guilty. There was also a large part of him that felt grateful for their consideration. Mostly, though, it was his roommate’s silver tongue that did the trick.
“Junnie, you gotta live a little! It’s just one night at an outdoor festival! Tomorrow, you can go back to your proud title of Apartment 1317’s Golden Boy.”
Getting Kwon Soonyoung as a roommate has been both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because Soonyoung is the most friendly and helpful peer Junhui’s ever encountered. He’s managed to make Junhui feel welcome and at ease, showing him around campus, introducing him to his friends, giving genuine attention to Junhui’s thoughts and interests. On the flip side of the coin, Soonyoung tends to be very loud and persuasive, always ready for a party and dragging his friends along with him. In the end, Junhui had been powerless to Soonyoung’s cajolery.
“Come on!” Soonyoung’s voice somehow makes it to Junhui’s eardrums now, followed by his clammy hand around his wrist. “Shining Diamonds are up next! Let’s get a closer spot!”
Junhui’s protests wither before they make it out of his mouth as Hansol appears on his other side, and together with Soonyoung, start to manhandle him through the crowd. Fearless, his group of friends push and maneuver around the intoxicated students out of their way. Jihoon grips onto a corner of Seokmin’s shirt as the taller one follows Seungkwan’s aggressive lead. More of Junhui’s toes are sacrificed on the journey, but at least his ribs are safe from elbows.
By the time they get to the front, Hansol is vibrating with excitement. His lopsided grin is infectious as he turns to Junhui and recites the band’s entire discography, hands flying in the air. Junhui smiles and nods, even though he only hears, “Check-In”, “Fronting,” and “Lotto.” At least, that’s what he thinks the boy is saying. In any case, if Hansol is this excited, maybe Soonyoung’s guarantee could still be valid. Junhui could let loose once in a while, enjoying the music and ignoring the unease squeezing his lungs and stomach.
No sooner has the thought crossed his mind that the lights on stage goes out, promptly drawing the audience’s attention. A thunderous roar erupts, when red spotlights flicker on. Junhui’s ears are ringing, but he tries not to wince lest he missed the entrance of the band that everyone but he knew about. Three figures, shrouded in the shadows and fog, slowly walk out as the music kicks in.
It’s catchy, Junhui thinks with delight, the dancer in him catching the bug and moving along, swept up by the excitement around him. His movements are still quite reserved and stiff in comparison to Soonyoung’s or Hansol’s wild and carefree whoops and sways, but it’s enough to make Jihoon laugh. Spirits rising higher with glee, he directs his full attention to the stage. To be able to control the crowd so well with only three guys is an impressive feat, and Junhui attempts to get a better look at the performers.
Their stage costumes are comprised of dark colors, leather, and chains, which throw off the light whenever they encounter a beam. Junhui is fascinated by the bad boy vibes, so different from what he’s used to seeing, especially on campus. He wonders how much of that is for show, and how much it is a reflection of the singers’ personalities. While they all portray a dangerous and sexy concept, one member in particular seems especially fitting.
Tall, slender, pale skin, square jaw, dark and penetrating eyes. His hair is slicked back hastily by long fingers, ends dipped in sweat. It’s not only his incredibly good looks that capture the audience’s (including Junhui’s) attention. When he places the microphone over his lips, the low timber of his voice, amplified by thousands of watts, reverberates across the field. A shiver rushes over Junhui’s body despite the heat, and he’s mesmerized.
In the midst of his daze, the member in question turns his head, and their eyes lock. The group of friends are standing close enough to the stage that there’s no doubt he’s looking right at Junhui. The mere realization makes the student's face burn up. Try as he might, though, he’s unable to break the piercing gaze. Something about the singer is pinning him in place, and it feels like he can see straight into his soul.
Another shiver runs down his spine, and this time, the guy on stage smirks as if satisfied by Junhui’s reaction. His eyes actually twinkle as he moves the mic away from his mouth, corner still upturned. Junhui swallows, pressing a hand to his chest. Under the layers of muscles and bones, his heart thunders. Rhythm turning all the more erratic when his gaze follows the black leather jacket. Its owner moves at a fast pace to the singer with red silvery hair who's in the middle of the stage, laughing and waving his arms in the air to get the crowd to follow suit. Junhui only affords a quick glance to see that the third member—the tallest in a violet jacket—is entertaining the listeners with his rapping. Red-Silver Hair is a little shorter than Piercing Gaze; he removes one earpiece and leans closer, listening to whatever the other has to say.
For unknown reasons, Junhui feels nervous. Heat surrounds him, and he feels like Soonyoung when the latter eats spicy foods. He licks his suddenly dry lips. The two gossiping members finish their conversation, and Red-Silver Hair casts a furtive glance toward this corner. Junhui’s stomach drops. They couldn’t have been talking about Junhui, right? No way.
But to his horror, Red-Silver Hair grins knowingly and pats the second male's shoulder as if in dismissal, before striding across the stage, picking up his part of the song seamlessly. The perfect pitch and vocals are lost on the poor fan. Because Piercing Gaze is coming back. And he's standing right in front of Junhui. The gap between them is the perfect distance for their eyes to lock without effort. Junhui’s heartbeat picks up; blood rushes through his ears even louder than the music. He can no longer distinguish the bass from his own pounding heart.
On stage, the brunet picks up his mic again as his part comes up. Junhui thinks he’s ready for it this time. But he’s not. He’s taken completely off-guard because the guy is singing right at him, maintaining eye contact for the entire verse. This is too much for Junhui. The heat burning his face is going to consume him. There will be nothing left of him but a pile of ash. Is there anything worse for your health than an extremely good looking and talented guy serenading you in front of thousands of people?
In a word: yes.
Because this song comes with choreography. Which includes body rolls and hip thrusts. I am going to die.
The brunet shows no pity as he deliberately rolls his hips in the most obscene and suggestive way, causing the crowd around Junhui to screech and scream for more. Junhui just wants to hide behind his hands and curl up into a ball. That’s just wishful thinking, though, since his body refuses to obey. It stays frozen in place, watching the show that seems to be exclusively for him, heart threatening to burst out of his chest, breath catching in his throat. As the moves get even more sexy (something Junhui didn’t quite believe possible), he bites down on his lower lip, hard, to keep the whimpers from escaping. The chances that anyone, much less the teasing jerk on stage, could hear him are zero to none, but it doesn’t stop the embarrassment from threatening to kill him.
As if able to see exactly what’s racing through his target’s mind, the brunet’s smirk widens. There’s no doubt he’s enjoying watching Junhui squirm, which makes absolutely no sense. Why would the guy single him out, when there’s thousands of screaming fans? Can he somehow tell that this is Apartment 1317’s Golden Boy’s first time at a wild concert?
The rest of the band’s set passes both in the blink of an eye and as slowly as a snail’s pace. Either way, Junhui isn’t sure his soul is still within his body when the trio bows and waves at the crowd. Especially when Piercing Gaze throws him one last look and that infuriating smirk, before turning around and running off backstage.
“Whew! What a rush!” Hansol exclaims next to him, causing him to jump. Thankfully, the boy doesn’t notice. He’s too busy gushing about the songs. “What did you think? Did you like it? Which was your favorite?”
“Uh.” Junhui scratches his head. “They were all really good,” he answers slowly, half shouting in order to be heard. It’s the truth, mostly. They sounded amazing, it’s just that he was too busy held captive by a pair of intense dark eyes to notice much else.
“Right right!” Hansol knocks into his arm, jostling him a little. “You’ve never heard them sing before. No worries, I got you covered, man,” he grins, holding his hand out for Junhui. The older meets his high-five, laughing softly at his enthusiasm.
Well, it’s over. Junhui refuses to acknowledge whether he’s disappointed or relieved.
Around them, the crowd stirs. People like them earlier are trying to move to the front as their favorite performers are gearing up to appear. The boys attempt to move away from the center, a good chance to catch some fresh air, too. For the first time tonight, Junhui is grateful for the weather, since it conceals his blush perfectly.
He’s holding on to Hansol’s shoulders as the blond leads the way, when suddenly, something collides into his side, causing him and Hansol to stumble. The boys steady each other and turn to see what happened. Initially, Junhui only registers a mop of bright orange hair skirting his peripheral vision, before Soonyoung lets out a groan and gasp at the same time.
“What the fuck!” Jihoon’s bellow cuts through the immediate ruckus around, probably directed at whomever knocked into them.
Seokmin and Seungkwan rush to help Soonyoung up, gripping one arm each. “Are you okay?” the elder asks. When Soonyoung mutters something, voice wet, they all pause. Their faces pale when the latter sways and holds a hand to his nose.
“Shit!”
Junhui moves before his comprehension catches up. He swiftly fishes into his backpack for a pack of tissues, pulling a few out to press against Soonyoung’s nose. “Don’t tilt your head up,” he instructs, hand on his back. “Just keep the pressure on it.”
“We need to get out of the area,” Jihoon says, although he’s still glaring at the people around them.
Slowly, the group navigates through the audience. But once they leave the empty circle that the commotion caused, the gap begins to close around them. What started out as a row of six friends soon dwindles down to a single file, with Seokmin at the front and Junhui bringing up the rear. They almost make it out, when the next performance takes the stage. A rush and clamor erupt as the masses swarm to the front.
It only takes a second of distraction. A push, a shove, a spin. His name is called, an echo so insignificant among the screams and music. By the time Junhui finds his footing, his friends had disappeared. His head whips in all direction. The feeling of dread mounts as none of the faces he sees are the ones he desperately seeks.
Okay, just calm down. They can’t be far. Just get out of the crowd and call them.
As best as he can, Junhui maneuvers his way until he encounters the last people. At last, he stands at the far end of the field, breathing in fresh air. Away from the hot and sweaty bodies, he trembles slightly at the drop in temperature and the breeze blowing past. Even so, his eyes scan the surrounding in search of the bright orange hair. But there’s so many people milling about, he can’t spot the familiar group. The best and only solution is to try their phones. Unfortunately, life seems to hate him, because he can’t get through to any one of them. They probably aren’t even aware that their phones are going off, what with the noise and taking care of Soonyoung’s bloody nose.
Blowing out a breath and flicking his hair out of his eyes, he surveys the area for a noticeable spot that he can use as his location to text them. Once they’ve taken care of the injury, one of them ought to call him, right? Let’s hope so. With new determination, he sets off for the fence lining the field, texting the group chat as he goes. There’s a bathroom nearby, with any luck, his friends could be there.
Still no response. No friends anywhere in sight, either. Panic rises again. He’s restless as he paces along the fence, one hand clutching his phone, the other tugging at his bottom lip. He’s intently studying the view before him, searching for those mops of hair. He’s so distracted by the worry gnawing his insides at the thought of being left behind, that he doesn’t realize someone has snuck up behind him.
“You look lost, Pretty Boy.”
Junhui yelps and jumps a few inches in the air, whirling around. His eyes widen and his jaw drops as recognition settles in. Shock slowly subsides, but a different kind of nerves slithers in its place, making his skin tingle and his stomach quiver. If Junhui felt faint from staring at him a few feet away, now he’s lucky his knees haven’t collapsed yet. Piercing Gaze is so much more intimidating up close. The aura of dominance hangs around him like a cape, and all Junhui can do is back away slowly.
“Um,” he stammers, eyes darting around. “I’m just…” He’s staring at anything other than the tattoos around the exposed collarbones, the multiple chains and necklaces adorning the pristine pale neck. He doesn’t think about how the disheveled hair is inviting fingers to run through it. Most of all, though, he avoids those dark and intense eyes. The ones crinkled at the tips as their owner gazes at him openly with amusement. Junhui doesn’t dare look, but he can feel the stare, though. He senses it lingering over his face, sweeping over his entire body, a soft but heated caress.
Junhui’s shoe hits the fence with a clang. He’s trapped. He backs up even further against the metal mesh, wincing at the coldness biting into his skin. The guy in front of him takes the final steps, putting them almost nose to nose. As naturally as breathing, the singer lifts his hand and hooks his fingers to the links on the side of Junhui’s head, grin still tugging the corner of his mouth. Junhui shrinks back, even though there’s not much room left. He swallows, focusing on the zipper of the leather jacket.
His lungs are burning, his throat his closing up. He tries to take in shallow breaths, but that only makes it worse. The faint smell of shampoo mixes in with a whiff of cologne and sweat. Instead of recoiling, his heart races as a result. Why is his body reacting like this? Every internal alarm bell should be going off, telling him to run away as far as he can. That the guy, famous performer or not, is dangerous. Golden Boy Junhui should not get involved with anyone like him. He should not be alone with him, especially at night, out of view from the rest of the festival.
But his voice is like velvet, tempting and enticing. Poor Junhui is helpless to it. So he stays put as his captor cocks his head and offers another beguiling smile.
“Just what?” he whispers. “Did your friends ditch you?”
Dread shoots up Junhui’s spine, and he clutches the phone tighter as if the small device could be some kind of shield against this dangerously alluring man. Seeing him squirm seems to amuse the brunet if the crinkles around his eyes are any indication.
“N-no, I just lost them in the crowd,” Junhui manages to squeak out, risking a glance upward. “They’ll come get me soon."
A chuckle. Deep and rich. Junhui melts a little more. “They better be.” With his free hand, the musician reaches for a lock of hair that’s fallen over Junhui’s eyes, rubbing the silky purple strands between his thumb and forefinger. The action draws the lost boy out, coaxing him to meet the steady gaze. “It’s not prudent for a nice boy like you to be wandering out here alone.”
Junhui’s breath hitches with the implication of the words, yet somehow his brain manages to pick up on the vocabulary. Who is this guy? Junhui swallows, attempting to find his voice, albeit it be tiny. “H-how so?”
The brunet leans even closer, forcing Junhui to suck in a breath as their foreheads nearly come into contact. He can feel the heat radiating out, sense the overwhelming power immobilizing him. Warm fingertips graze over his cheekbone as the singer brushes his hair back into place, causing a shudder to wrack through Junhui and a pleased expression to cross the singer’s face.
“Take a look around,” he suggests. "Do you see?"
Blinking fast, Junhui tries to make his brain work. Striving to form a coherent sentence to answer the question. All he manages to accomplish is not faint. But he does take his eyes away for a few seconds to observe the surrounding. To his shock, he glimpses a few feet away a group of drunkards, loudly whistling and collapsing over each other as they try to chase after two girls. The creeps' laughter mixes with the beat of the current song, and it makes Junhui's skin crawl. Thankfully, the girls escape untouched, but the mass of potential delinquents are hooting at yet more passerby, all either walking alone or seemingly distracted. A lot like Junhui had been a couple minutes ago.
Fear shoots up his spine as realization strikes. So careless.
"You're lucky I found you before you ran into those sleazy bastards," the rapper states, pulling Junhui's attention back to him. The latter could only stare back in shock, heart still hammering at the thought of those guys finding him alone.
As if expecting his answer (or a lack of), a soft chuckle tumbles out of the singer’s mouth, and he inches back slightly. Junhui breathes out.
The relief doesn’t last for long, though. Because his companion makes no further move to back away. In fact, he resumes his study of Junhui’s face, gaze sweeping over his features with agonizing slowness. It's like he's trying to understand why someone like Junhui is here, curiosity apparent. Their bodies are too close, though. One glimpse and Junhui recalls the way the guy had looked at him from the stage, how those hips and hands had moved while keeping Junhui within view. The poor student shakes his head to clear his mind from those scandalous thoughts, gripping his phone tighter as something to help him cope with the raw and foreign feeling coursing through his veins.
This time, the movement catches the musician’s attention. Once he glimpses up, he wonders, “You go to Pledis, Pretty Boy?”
Junhui unconsciously presses his thumb over the silver band around his pinky. Every student who manage to keep an above average GPA after their second year is awarded such a ring. He nods at the question.
Out of curiosity, he throws a look at the hand by his shoulder, seeing a similar ring adorning the pale finger.
Shock would not even begin to describe his feelings. This guy, this guy with scary tattoos and domineering persona is also one of the top students at an elite private university? Junhui’s always known not to judge people based on appearance, but it’s a little hard not to on the rare occasions that he comes across the potentially dangerous bad boy type.
While he’s grasping to come to terms with the new information, the guy appears to find Junhui's unrestrained emotions very entertaining as his grin widens and another little chuckle escapes. Junhui tells himself it’s not that cute. There shouldn’t be anything cute about him. Junhui should be terrified (which he is) and want to get away (which he doesn’t, if he’s completely honest with himself).
“So we’re school mates, huh?” he muses, clearly delighted with the fact. Junhui’s stomach does summersaults. “Guess I’ll continue to look for you through crowds.”
“W-why would you do that?” he asks breathily, unable to imagine the reason. He still can’t believe where they are and what they’re doing right now.
The singer’s grin turns thoughtful as he toys with the purple strands again. “Why indeed…?”
Junhui opens his mouth to speak, to say what he’s not sure, but the outcome will forever be a mystery, because his phone decides to go off at that moment. He startles from the sound cutting through the bubble separating them from the rest of the world. His companion chuckles at his expense, but it’s soft, and almost endearing. Junhui pretends not to be affected as he looks into his eyes, silently asking if it’s okay for him to get the call. A ridiculous notion, but something—no, everything about him is intimidating, and Junhui can’t help himself.
Again, the singer gives him this indulgent look. It’s the same way he’d look at a young child or a beloved pet. Junhui’s not sure how he feels about that, but he tucks it away for now, because the guy nods at him to pick up, and Junhui presses the phone to his ear.
His companion doesn’t back away throughout the whole conversation. Not even when his friends run over and spot them together. He’s no longer smiling. In fact, his face seems to have turned completely blank, except for the intensity in his eyes when he gazes at the group of approaching boys. It’s almost… in challenge, daring them to come fetch what’s his.
Junhui blinks, eyes flickering from the brunet inches from him to his friends’ shocked expressions. Hansol’s eyes are bulging, and his jaw is slack, while Jihoon glares back evenly, brows furrowed deep. Seungkwan and Seokmin openly gape. Only Soonyoung, now with tissues stuck up his nose, walks forward, breaching through the invisible barrier that their friends couldn’t cross.
There’s a strange smile tugging the corners of Soonyoung’s mouth. It’s not quite unpleasant, but somewhat strained, and Junhui has a hard time deciphering its meaning. Until he opens his mouth and speaks, voice nasally, “Thanks for keeping him out of trouble, Wonwoo.”
Junhui’s eyes widen so much, they might fall out.
Wonwoo laughs dryly, shaking his head. He turns back to Junhui, head cocked as that smirk appears again. “Stay safe, Pretty Boy. Don't wander off alone again,” he warns, fingers leaving Junhui’s hair to graze at his jaw before he pulls away completely. Then the heat enveloping him disappears, too, as Wonwoo steps back and leaves without another word. It’s not until then that he realizes how comforting that warmth was.
“Are you okay?” Seungkwan arrives at the fence, hand shaking his shoulder, voice a little shrill.
The appearance of his friends snaps him out of the daze, and he tears his eyes away from Wonwoo’s retreating back. “I’m fine,” he smiles, then turns to Soonyoung, “I should be asking you that.”
The injured boy waves it off, good mood returning immediately. “Healthy as a horse!”
“How did you end up out here with him?” Hansol asks in a hushed tone, as if Wonwoo has super hearing and could eavesdrop.
“He didn’t do anything to you, did he?” Seokmin adds in.
Junhui shakes his head, mind recalling the interaction. Sure, he was pushy and a little scary, but mostly—“He was nice.”
Arching a brow, Seungkwan studies Junhui like he were crazy. “‘Nice’,” he repeats incredulously. “I don’t think anyone’s ever used the word ‘nice’ to describe Jeon Wonwoo.”