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“I’m just saying, sooner or later, the fans are going to notice,” Taehyun says patiently as he spreads the photos out on the table. He picks one up, looking at it with a particularly deep frown. “It’s obvious you pay special attention to him. Why do you like him so much, anyway?”
“His eyes are so pretty,” Kai says dreamily as he lays out on the couch. “And his eyebrows too. And his nose—one time he even let me squish it,” Kai recounts excitedly. “It was so soft!”
Taehyun sighs as he rubs his temples. “He could have filed for harassment.”
“But he said I could,” Kai says indignantly, “what’s the point of him telling me his skin was stretchy like mochi if he’s not going to let me touch it?”
“There are so many things wrong here,” Taehyun deadpans. “I’m surprised he even let you, since he always wears a mask.”
“Anyway,” Kai moves on, “he’s super tall, taller than me. But my favorite thing about him is his voice. It’s so soft and soothing.” The idol smiles impishly. “Last time I got him to sing for me.”
Taehyun sinks further down in his chair. Kai Kamal Huening is a PR disaster waiting to happen.
“Just be careful. You know how possessive some of your fans can get.”
It turns out that Taehyun doesn’t have to worry about it for much longer. Kai’s most loyal fansite suddenly disappears towards the end of his promotion period, missing the last fansign he had been selected for. Occasionally he would call in to let them know he’d be late, but Taehyun had always made an exception for him, and thus ANGELHK continued his perfect attendance streak.
It’s worrying. It’s not that there aren’t plenty of other fansites, but ANGELHK had not only been Kai’s favorite, he had also been the staff’s favorite. He never attended private schedules or displayed any sort of worrying behaviors, he was well-mannered, and for a fan he had frighteningly deep pockets, evident in how aggressively he promoted Kai not just in Korea but also overseas. Times Square has been lit up by Kai’s visage too many times to count, not to mention the ads that littered subways and bus stations and malls every other month. In short, he had been the perfect example of a mutually beneficial relationship between a fansite and an idol.
At first they thought it was due to unforeseen circumstances, and that his absence was a one-time affair. But as they closely monitored ANGELHK’S social media presence, or more accurately, lack thereof, it became apparent that he was simply just—gone. No note of hiatus, no warnings. Just gone, like a ghost.
Kai mopes for weeks.
“I’m just saying maybe we should be concerned,” Kai tries. “What if he actually went missing?”
“It happens Kai,” Taehyun says softly. “It’s not your fault when a fansite decides to retire.”
“Bunny was different though,” Kai protests, eyes glittering with defiance. “I think we spoke genuinely with each other,” he says wistfully. “His aura was different, somehow. He always felt familiar.”
“If he felt comfortable, don’t you think he would have given you his actual name?”
Kai purses his lips. “Maybe he had reasons not to.”
“Put your Cinderella search on pause for now, Hyuka,” Taehyun says as he links their arms together, tugging Kai towards his studio. “The album should be your priority.”
Kai sighs as he fiddles with the charm on his cellphone strap. “Okay, Hyun-ah.”
Kai looks half-asleep as he looks over his schedule. Between the hairdryer and the cozy waiting room, Taehyun thinks he might actually doze off again.
“What’s this meeting at noon?” Kai asks sleepily.
“Your contract renewal,” Taehyun says succinctly, aware of their audience. They’ve been with the hairstylist for years, which is why he’s comfortable enough to say even that much in front of him.
“Oh yeah.” Kai yawns. “Can you wake me up when the shoot starts?” In typical Kai fashion, he doesn’t wait for an answer and passes right out.
Taehyun shares a frown with the hairstylist. He should be getting more sleep. The company is pushing him to his limits because of the looming end of the contract. Kai hasn’t complained once. He fingers the business card in his pocket.
Choi Soobin, I hope you know what you’re talking about.
“Hyunie,” Kai says from the backseat, “aren’t we going to meet with Lee-ssi to discuss the contract? Also,” and the idol whispers his next words, “who’s our driver? Is he new?”
“He’s one of Arcadia’s,” Taehyun says, paying close attention to the expressions that flit across Kai’s face. There are a lot of promises in Kai’s new offer—a lot of luxury and security for his family—but Taehyun’s job is to read the fine print. The new contract is airtight, almost impossible to legally break out of if Kai ever wished to do so. It was long, seven years long. Shackles. And Lee always had the tendency to work his artists until they suffered burnout.
“Arcadia Entertainment? That one?”
Taehyun nods, noting Kai’s hesitation. “It’s grown a lot since they first offered you a contract. They have a new CEO, but he’s been working behind the scenes for a while. The “no-strings contract” all of their artists have is a change that he made.” He passes his phone to Kai. “They’re offering what Lee is, but without the binding contract. Fiscally, they’ve had a few great years. You already know that’s Choi Yeonjun’s company.”
“A few years…” Kai murmurs, and Taehyun knows he’s thinking about his father’s career.
“I’m not making a recommendation yet,” Taehyun says. “Let’s talk to Choi Soobin-ssi first.”
“Choi Soobin?” Kai tilts his head. “Sounds familiar.”
“He might have been on the news a few times, but he usually keeps a low profile.”
“Not in that way,” Kai says with a shake of his head. He hands Taehyun’s phone back. “Okay Hyun-ah, I trust you.”
“I know,” Taehyun responds cheekily. “That’s what I’m paid for.”
Kai pouts and thumps his shoulder. “I trust you as a best friend, too.”
Taehyun smiles softly. “I know that too.”
Arcadia Ent.’s new CEO has been described as cold and stiff in the numerous articles Taehyun has seen about him. The photos back up the claims—his eyes, particularly, seem frosty. Taehyun isn’t as good at reading people as Kai is, but rather than unfriendly as some of the articles seem to suggest, Choi Soobin seems to be camera-shy. Or it’s a face specifically developed to show to the media, perhaps?
Either way, he knows that Choi Soobin is not at all like the articles the second he sees him. His cheeks dimple when he smiles, and he speaks warmly. Not for the first time he wishes he was able to speak with him at least over the phone first, but instead, a chatty secretary named Beomgyu had scheduled them instead.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Choi Soobin greets, extending forward for a handshake. He’s taller than Taehyun would have guessed. “Kang Taehyun-ssi, Huening Kai-ssi.”
Taehyun returns the handshake back politely, noting the firm grip, turning in confusion when Kai squeaks beside him.
“You’re...” Kai says, brows furrowed in confusion.
The secretary clears his throat. “Why don’t we chat inside?” he suggests chipperly. Choi Soobin seems slightly flustered when he steps back to join Beomgyu.
“Of course.”
That handshake lingered for a little too long, didn’t it?
The meeting itself proceeds without any more surprises, although the atmosphere is more lively than expected with Beomgyu’s upbeat personality. Taehyun takes particular interest on the slide where the CEO explains the steep upward trajectory of revenue and growth, despite the generous profit margin the company shared with the artists.
“Of course, if you feel like we’re not living up to your expectations, you can always terminate your contract. The cancellation fee cannot be paid at once,” Choi Soobin explains, “but it will be done over an amount of time inversely proportional to how long the contract has been upheld. The fee is a percentage of your earnings, usually between 1-10%. So if you break your contract after a month, you would have to pay a higher percentage over a longer period of time.”
Taehyun nods. As expected, they have to cover their expenses for losing an artist somehow, although Arcadia Ent. has an extremely high retention rate. He nudges Kai. “What do you think?”
“I’ll consider it,” he says, seemingly fixated on something. “Let’s look over it tonight.”
Taehyun stands to indicate they’re ready to leave. There’s another round of handshakes when the meetings end, although Taehyun has the suspicion that Choi Soobin is slightly more interested in Kai than he lets on, and for some reason, Kai seems to reciprocate that interest.
“Soobin-ssi,” Kai says, “Taehyun will be included in my contract, correct? We’re a package deal.”
Choi Soobin cracks a small smile. “It’s already been written in.”
“I thought so,” Kai says, grinning widely. “See you soon, Bunny.”
Beomgyu gasps audibly. Taehyun knows the press would pay good money to have a photo of Choi Soobin visibly blushing, but Kai is already dragging him away. Choi Soobin’s greeting echoes in his mind: ‘It’s a pleasure to see you again.’
“Told you I’d find him.” Kai giggles as they climb into the company van.
“How did you know?” It’s not until after the fact that Taehyun realizes the CEO’s height and silhouette is the same as ANGELHK ’s.
“His phone case is the same,” Kai says, “it’s not a unique one, but his hands feel the same too, and I’d recognize his eyes anywhere.”
“When did he take out his phone?” Taehyun asks in confusion.
Kai shrugs. “He didn’t. It was in his pocket.”
“You’re obsessed,” Taehyun says fondly. “Well, that explains a lot of things.”
Kai frowns. “I still don’t know where I know him from though. We might have gone to the same school. Hyunie?” Kai turns to him, puppy eyes wide and mouth pouty and Taehyun just knows he’s about to be coerced into something. “Can you help me look through my old yearbooks tonight?”
“Alright,” Taehyun agrees, “but I get paid double time if we don’t find what you’re looking for.”
"Of course,” Kai coos as he tickles his chin. Taehyun half-heartedly swats him away.
“I was joking. This is in the realm of my best friend duties.”
Kai wraps his arms around him. “You’re the best.”
“I know.”
“Don’t ruin the mood,” Kai whines, and Taehyun smiles into his shoulder.
“We’re the best.”
It doesn’t take long at all to find Choi Soobin in Kai’s old yearbook. Hell, it took a longer time to drive back to his parents’ house. Kai seemed to know exactly where to look.
“I thought it was him,” Kai murmurs, finger tracing the portrait. “My first friend.”
Taehyun glances over. “The one who moved away?”
Kai laughs. “We were so young. We made a promise to be together forever.”
Taehyun raises an eyebrow. “Did you have a crush on him?”
“I must have, since I kissed him.”
Taehyun really wishes Kai didn’t choose to say that right when he starts drinking his water, though by the mischievous grin on his face, it was definitely on purpose.
“On the cheek,” Kai clarifies in between giggles. “But wow. What are the chances?”
“I’m legally obligated to say that I don’t suggest workplace romances.”
“You’re morally obligated to support me,” Kai shoots back as he flaunts Choi Soobin’s business card, the back of which has a phone number scrawled across it. “I’m going to text him.”
“Don’t,” Taehyun says unconvincingly.
“Okay,” Kai says just as convincingly. “I won’t.”
Taehyun knew it. He knew it. He pinches the bridge of his nose when ANGELHK walks into the venue.
“Hyuka…”
“I didn’t text him,” Kai protests.
“Then what did you do?”
Kai blinks innocently. “We messaged on Kakao.”
Taehyun feels his headache suddenly become much worse when he sees Choi Soobin’s poorly disguised secretary behind him.
He needs several raises.