Archive of Our Own ^beta

Spring had sprung, and Keonhee watched it with gross reverence. Perhaps it wasn't productive, but it was certainly much more entertaining than his actual task at hand: listen to his professor's lecture and take notes like a responsible student. He didn't hate his class because he wasn't one to deny his natural prowess in the world of business; however, there were only so many times he could handle listening to the same standard procedures and systems before the subject began to bore him, as rare as it was.

So, although there was quiz-worthy information on the PowerPoint, Keonhee couldn't fully commit himself to the lesson because a cherry blossom had landed atop the windowsill. The window wasn't open, so it wasn't like the petal threatened to enter the lecture hall, but it was distracting enough; the hall was plaster white and on the third floor, so any color outside the monotoned gray of the courtyard's sidewalks immediately caught Keonhee's eye. Maybe he should have listened to Hwanwoong's advice of sitting in the middle rows...

"Lee Keonhee-ssi?" the professor shouted.

Keonhee was startled from his thoughts and apologized to his professor for being distracted. He asked her to repeat her question and resolved to ignore the pink blossom that fluttered in his peripheral.

The rest of his class passed by without much incident, and Keonhee wondered what he should have for dinner before being rudely interrupted by Hwanwoong.

"So, the culture festival's coming up," Hwanwoong said as he leaned against the desk neighboring Keonhee's. "Help me with it?"

"Depends," Keonhee replied, tucking his notes into his backpack. "Are you gonna make a monkey of me to entertain people again?"

"Dongju isn't helping out this time, so you don't have to worry about that."

Relieved, Keonhee turned toward Hwanwoong and asked, "And what, exactly, are you planning to do?"

"Since exams are coming up, I figured we should wait until after they're over before beginning preparations."

"So that we have time to flesh out our idea, or so that you don't faint from sleep deprivation again?"

"Well, actually, neither, but I did consider those. It's mostly because I'm hoping Youngjo will be able to join us."

Keonhee made a curious noise. Last he checked, Youngjo had gotten the flu and was still recovering in his dormitory after nearly three days. He'd only just moved into their share house a week before his sudden illness, so Keonhee wouldn't say he'd gotten to know Youngjo. He doubted that would affect their teamwork, though. At least, he hoped.

"Not that I'm opposed to the extra help," Keonhee said, "don't you think this is pushing it? The festival starts mid-May."

"I'm sure we'll be fine since Youngjo's helping."

Keonhee had a haughty refute of Why are you bothering a sick person? before Hwanwoong's phone began ringing. He tugged it out of his pants pocket, glanced at the caller ID, and grinned as he met Keonhee's inquisitive gaze.

"Speak of the devil," Hwanwoong said before accepting the call. "You're on speaker, Youngjo."

"I'm guessing Keonhee-ssi's there?" Youngjo's voice presumed.

"You don't have to be so formal," Keonhee said. "Also, has Woong-ah already told you his plans for the festival?"

"No, but he said we'd be discussing them over lunch tomorrow."

"Surprise," Hwanwoong whispered when Keonhee glared at him.

"And he didn't force you to do this?" Keonhee asked. "Because I wouldn't want to prepare for a festival while I'm sick."

Youngjo laughed. It was hearty and mellow, and it crackled through the receiver with something deceptively innocent. It was like Youngjo hadn't the faintest idea why Keonhee would be so opposed to going through something as laborious as a festival when he was supposed to be resting.

"You say that like you're not gonna do it while studying," Hwanwoong scoffed.

"Better than doing it when I can't think clearly," Keonhee retorted.

"How about we discuss this tomorrow?" Youngjo interrupted. "The usual place, Hwanwoong-ah?"

Hwanwoong made a noise of confirmation before hanging up. He turned toward Keonhee with a grin, and Keonhee figured it would be futile to refuse Hwanwoong's forceful request—not that he was planning to, anyway. He always ended up at Hwanwoong's mercy; it was starting to become a habit.

"You have no shame, do you?" Keonhee accused.

Hwanwoong shrugged before answering with a flippant, "What's there to be ashamed of? Accepting Youngjo's offer to help?"

"I still doubt that he volunteered willingly, but, no, that wasn't what I was referring to; you just assumed I would be available tomorrow."

"Well, it's not like you're doing anything, right?"

Keonhee pouted because it wasn't like Hwanwoong was wrong, but it still hurt his pride; he had absolutely nothing of social importance to do on Saturday! He was in his twenties, the prime time of his young adult life, and he didn't have any friends to hang out with or events to attend because studying took up all of his time, and he just wanted to relax on the weekends. However, he hardly got to unwind even then because his housemates were every bit as chaotic as him and didn't allow him any downtime.

"Woong-ah," Keonhee whined as Hwanwoong turned to leave the hall. "You can't bully me like this!"

"Whoops?" Hwanwoong teased.

Hwanwoong's feet picked up their pace as he slipped through the doorway and left Keonhee to the stilted silence of the hall. Keonhee huffed, turned toward his desk, and snatched his bag off the floor. He spared one last glance toward the windowsill before leaving for his next class; the cherry blossom had been swept away in the spring breeze.

Hwanwoong told Keonhee that he'd just meet him at the bus stop since he had an early shift at one of his jobs. Keonhee wasn't entirely sure how Hwanwoong planned to survive the festival preparations with his hectic schedule, but Keonhee was willing to put some faith in him; Hwanwoong wasn't one to half-ass something, even if it meant sacrificing what little sleep he got.

As Keonhee approached the bus stop, he perked up when he spotted a familiar face.

"You're on time," Keonhee said as he approached Hwanwoong. "For once."

Hwanwoong's head darted up from his phone screen, and he looked vaguely affronted by Keonhee's snide comment, but a wide smile overcame his face as he glanced over Keonhee's figure.

"You're dressed up," Hwanwoong said.

Keonhee glanced down at his outfit, self-conscious upon Hwanwoong's comment: he wore a simple overcoat over a black turtleneck, which was tucked into a pair of plaid pants.

"Should I not have?" he inquired.

"No, it's fine," Hwanwoong said hastily. "You look cute."

"You always say that; how am I supposed to know if you're not lying?"

Hwanwoong frowned at him, and Keonhee placed his hands on his waist and lifted his chin. He'd hoped to provoke a reaction from Hwanwoong, but their bus arrived before Hwanwoong could scoff at him. They boarded the bus, paid the fare, and squeezed into one of the few remaining seats in the back; Keonhee had assumed it would be busy, but not to the point he'd trip over people's shoes as he approached his seat.

"Should've gone for breakfast," Keonhee muttered as he settled against the window.

"Neither one of us would've made it," Hwanwoong whispered as he slid in beside Keonhee.

"And you assume Youngjo would've?"

"He's not like us; he actually has a functioning school-sleep schedule."

"Speaking of school, how'd you get so close to him? You would've only had a week to get to know him, max; what happened to being an introvert?"

"I was the one who showed him around, genius. If you stopped doing your dumb narcissist study method in the library or gazing out every window with that mooning look in your eyes, then maybe you could've gotten to know him."

Keonhee huffed and averted his gaze from Hwanwoong to look out the window. He didn't have a witty retort or refusal because Hwanwoong posed a fair argument; he'd been so listless and wrung out lately that at any chance he could, he would sit and watch the world go by from any window near him. He'd always done it in passing to admire whatever songbird landed on the windowsill or to watch thunderous clouds roll overhead, but, lately, he would gaze out at...nothing. Rather, his eyes lingered on something so insignificant and small, it made no impact on the world surrounding it: petals.

It was spring, and the season announced its arrival with a gross oversaturation of blossoms and flowers. Keonhee didn't hate it or anything, but it was inconvenient to him since it crept upon and enraptured his focus when he was supposed to be studying or, heaven forbid, socializing. Like, for instance, the petals billowing past his window and enchanting him as the bus passed underneath an arch of flowers—no doubt a decoration for a festival that's since passed.

"Oh, that's pretty—"

"We are not doing another flower arch," Keonhee interrupted before Hwanwoong could breathe life into the suggestion. "My clothes were covered in pollen and I'd never sneezed more in my entire life."

Hwanwoong huffed, but he allowed the topic to fall away. Keonhee was grateful that Hwanwoong had learned to be less stubborn about his suggestions, but it still gave Keonhee a headache whenever a fire had been lit under Hwanwoong, and he refused to let an idea die. Keonhee wouldn't repeat his mistakes and play into Hwanwoong's impossible demands. He hoped Youngjo would follow his sentiment.

Keonhee jolted from his musings when Hwanwoong tugged on his sleeve. He turned toward Hwanwoong, bemused, before getting to his feet when he realized they'd arrive at their stop. They departed from the bus with friendly farewells to the bus driver, and Keonhee allowed himself to be dragged behind Hwanwoong; he was the only one between them who knew what the "usual place" looked like, and Keonhee wasn't one to complain when it came to food.

After a short walk through a crowded sidewalk, Keonhee and Hwanwoong arrived at the restaurant. It was a quaint hot pot place that hosted a loitering group of customers near its entrance, and Keonhee wondered how he'd never heard of it if it was so popular.

"Youngjo loves coming here," Hwanwoong sighed. "Even though it's always crowded."

"I hope it's worth the wait," Keonhee said.

"We're not just here to eat, you know."

"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy the food."

The line moved forward, and Hwanwoong dragged Keonhee into the restaurant. The hostess greeted them, and Hwanwoong glanced around before pointing out a table in the corner. Keonhee followed Hwanwoong as he bypassed occupied tables and chairs through the narrow aisleway, and they arrived at a table that hosted an almost familiar face.

"Hey," Youngjo greeted, and though he wore a mask, Keonhee could see his eyes crinkling with the smile that was sure to be hidden beneath it. "I already ordered. Hope mild's okay."

Hwanwoong hummed and took the seat across from Youngjo. Keonhee sat beside Hwanwoong, and the table was plunged into silence.

Antsy and dreading any awkwardness, Keonhee said, "You guys come here often?"

Hwanwoong snorted, Youngjo's eyes widened, and Keonhee realized that, perhaps, he wasn't the most eloquent speaker. He wondered if he could blame the heat in his ears on the surrounding hot pots.

"I—I didn't mean it like that," Keonhee stammered.

"Yes," Youngjo said, granting Keonhee mercy. "I like to drag Hwanwoong here whenever he's available."

"With how often you invited me, I was worried I was your only friend," Hwanwoong said. "Glad to know Seoho and Geonhak can keep you company."

Keonhee made a curious noise at the familiar names. He wasn't aware that Seoho and Geonhak were already on friendly terms with Youngjo. It made him wonder if he was, perhaps, the only one in their share house who hadn't further acquainted himself with Youngjo. Keonhee always had the excuse that he was busy, but so were the others, so he supposed he could really only blame it on his out-of-season listlessness, as embarrassing as that was.

"I have a lot of friends everywhere, Hwanwoong-ah," Youngjo spoke as he took a sip of his beer. "I just invite you out the most because you're always complaining about Keonhee—"

Keonhee perked up at his name, and he soon flinched at the half-squeal, half-shout that escaped Hwanwoong. 

"Woong-ah," Keonhee scolded with a slap to Hwanwoong's shoulder. "We're in a restaurant."

Keonhee turned toward Youngjo to apologize for Hwanwoong's sudden outburst, but he paused when he noticed the endearment within Youngjo's eyes. He relaxed when he realized Youngjo wasn't annoyed by the interruption, though a bit perplexed by the obvious affection in his gaze, and prompted Youngjo to finish what he was about to say.

"I was just keeping him some company," Youngjo chuckled. "He gets lonely pretty often."

"Youngjo," Hwanwoong hissed.

Keonhee glanced at Hwanwoong and noticed the rapid flush that'd overcome his face, and he figured he wasn't the only one affected by the surrounding hot pots.

"You should tell me if you're feeling lonely," Keonhee cooed. "I'll come hang out with you."

Hwanwoong didn't meet his gaze, but Keonhee could tell that wasn't what Hwanwoong wanted to hear. He seemed to deflate under Keonhee's offer, in fact, and Keonhee was almost offended by the lackluster response.

Before Keonhee could scold Hwanwoong for not taking him up on his offer, a waiter arrived at their table with their orders. Youngjo and Hwanwoong were all too eager to dig in, and Keonhee figured he shouldn't bother with a conversation if nobody else would pick up the weight.

Admittedly, the hot pot was very nice, and Keonhee could see why Youngjo went to such lengths to frequent the restaurant. He wondered if he could pick Youngjo's brain for more restaurant recommendations—after they'd finish preparations, of course.

With their meals out of the way, save for Hwanwoong, who was chewing the few squids within Keonhee's serving, they began their discussion in earnest. 

"I don't see anything wrong with doing a simple food stand," Youngjo offered.

"Keonhee'll just eat the entire stock," Hwanwoong said.

"I will not," Keonhee scoffed. "Believe it or not, I have self-control, Woong-ah."

"Last year tells me otherwise."

"And just how long have you done festivals together?" Youngjo questioned.

"Since high school," said Keonhee. "We'd always get paired together to do some sort of preparation, and I guess Hwanwoong's a masochist and sadist because he's still forcing me to join him in all this prep work."

"You could always say no," Hwanwoong argued.

"No, I can't because you always look like a kicked puppy whenever I refuse to help you. Not to mention I'd feel too guilty knowing you're out working until dawn without anyone there to lend you a hand."

Hwanwoong grew silent, and Keonhee noticed that the earlier flush had returned and darkened remarkably. Maybe he couldn't blame it on the hot pots any longer. But, well, Hwanwoong had always been easily flustered, so perhaps Keonhee's sincerity was too overwhelming for him.

"Well, I'm glad you guys have some experience," Youngjo chuckled, "because I have no idea what I'm doing."

Keonhee looked at Youngjo with a raised brow as he asked, "And you decided to volunteer to help Woong-ah because...?"

Youngjo's face grew frighteningly blank. Keonhee startled slightly at the sudden change in demeanor because he hadn't said anything particularly offensive. At least, he didn't think he did. Hwanwoong always told him he was a bit of a loudmouth, but he did his best to be cautious and considerate around strangers. After all, his greatest weakness was also his strongest asset: his words.

However, Keonhee's worry was all for naught because Youngjo's eyes soon melted into something affectionate once more.

"I was curious," Youngjo said.

Keonhee wasn't sure if he should push Youngjo further for a less vague answer, but his decision was made for him when Hwanwoong cleared his throat.

"Anyways," Hwanwoong began, "we should start planning before we lose any more time."

They abandoned the food stand idea because Keonhee couldn't honestly admit he wouldn't sneak himself free samples. Youngjo left the floor open for him and Hwanwoong since they had more experience, but Keonhee could only look toward Hwanwoong for some sort of inspiration. He wouldn't call himself a leech, per se, but Keonhee just needed a little...push to find his footing. It was hard to make ideas up on the fly, after all; Hwanwoong was much more skilled in developing concepts, and Keonhee let his opinions be known in executing those concepts—no matter how far-fetched. It was how they worked, and Keonhee found comfort in the familiarity after all these years.

"What if," Hwanwoong said, "we did a flower-themed stand?"

"Like literally everybody else?" Keonhee chided.

"Embellish it a little, Keonhee-ah. I know I can trust your judgement."

"You're not giving me much to work with..."

Despite his complaints, Keonhee fell silent as he gave Hwanwoong's idea some serious thought.

It wasn't a crime to do something cliché—flower stands were popular for a reason—, but there was also the looming threat of doing that cliché to death because it would be their third time making a flower stand, and Keonhee wasn't mentally prepared to go through the ordeal of ordering flowers, maintaining them, underestimating the amount of stock needed, facing angry customers—

It was a lot.

However, Keonhee could work with something flower-themed, something almost completely removed from the everyday struggles of a flower shop. Anything food-related was off the table, so Keonhee was left with the obvious arts and craft option or, perhaps, something a little more...ambitious.

"You used to dance, right, Woong-ah?" Keonhee asked.

Hwanwoong swallowed the last bit of squid and regarded Keonhee with suspicion.

"In high school, yeah. But why are you asking?" Hwanwoong questioned.

"What if we busked?" 

The table went silent upon Keonhee's suggestion, and if it weren't for the rapid chatter from surrounding patrons, Keonhee would've thought he'd tossed his idea out into the void.

Youngjo cleared his throat, and Keonhee darted his eyes toward him, hoping, praying for some form of validation—hell, even acknowledgment—

Youngjo laughed. It was the same hearty and mellow laughter Keonhee had heard the day before, but there was no longer that hint of innocence. Instead, Keonhee was greeted with the full view of the mischievous glint within Youngjo's eyes.

"What?" Keonhee barked, belatedly realizing he probably shouldn't be so rude to someone he hardly knew.

"Nothing," Youngjo said, the remnants of laughter still chasing his breath. "Just... Hwanwoong was right about you."

Keonhee frowned. He wasn't sure how to feel about Hwanwoong talking about him to someone who was a perfect stranger to him, but he began to feel that it wasn't such a good thing. Especially not since Youngjo's eyes still held that glint of something far more troublesome than some stupid festival preparation.

"Anyways," Hwanwoong said abruptly, probably to put an end to Keonhee and Youngjo's stare-down, "I don't think busking is a bad idea, Keonhee-ah, but it's not that attention-grabbing."

"What, because most spring-themed songs don't have a choreo?" Keonhee retorted. "Just make one, genius."

"You can't expect me to—!"

"I can, and will. Youngjo," Keonhee continued before Hwanwoong could finish complaining, "what song should we do?"

Youngjo blinked in apparent surprise. He probably thought he would get a free ride for the initial planning, but Keonhee had a bone to pick with him now, and he wasn't above petty labor.

"There's a lot to choose from," Youngjo mused. "We could go with something iconic, something that everyone knows, but..."

"All the other buskers are probably thinking the same thing," Keonhee finished. "Wasn't it last year when we heard Cherry Blossom Ending at least ten times?"

"Nah, you're thinking of the year before. Last year was Spring Day," Hwanwoong answered. 

"I guess those are off the list," Youngjo chuckled.

"We could always do a foreign Pop song," Hwanwoong suggested. "Those tend to be easier to create a dance for."

"Yeah, but we have to think about likeability," Keonhee retorted. "What's the point in making a choreo for a song that nobody knows?"

"Why do you assume people don't listen to songs from overseas? Plenty of people branch out and explore other countries' music now!"

"And? Plenty of people have differing tastes in foreign music! How are we supposed to appeal to a large audience with such a niche topic?"

"I could...make a song."

Keonhee and Hwanwoong paused in their argument and slowly turned toward Youngjo with wide, wide eyes.

"You...know how to produce music?" Keonhee asked.

"It's just a hobby, but, yeah," Youngjo said.

When Keonhee got over his initial shock, he noticed that Youngjo looked almost bashful by his own suggestion. Keonhee supposed it made sense; he'd imagined he would be pretty embarrassed to divulge an amateur hobby to a stranger.

"Well, I don't want to force you to do anything," said Keonhee. "Since we're working on a pretty short time limit, I doubt you'll enjoy the crunch time—especially since you have to learn choreo on top of that."

"I still haven't agreed to that!" Hwanwoong argued.

"Then what do you suggest we do? Sit there and twiddle our thumbs while we sing?"

"It's possible—!"

"Woong-ah," Keonhee interrupted, "if you're not gonna do it, I will."

Hwanwoong's expression crumbled in on itself, and Keonhee knew he'd been reminded of the unpleasant experience that was their freshman high school festival; Keonhee had been the one in charge of the dance because Hwanwoong was recovering from a sprained ankle, and it was nothing short of a devastating humiliation that their classmates and seniors alike never lived down.

So, when Hwanwoong muttered a weary, "Fine," Keonhee released a quiet breath of relief. He wanted to avoid any correlation to their high school blunders whenever possible—especially when they had a fresh pair of eyes on the team.

Speaking of Youngjo, Keonhee noted, he'd grown unnervingly quiet. His gaze was drawn to the tabletop and focused, and Keonhee wondered if he was seriously considering dropping out. Keonhee wouldn't blame him because it was, honestly, an absurd task to place upon a newbie. Even if he had an extremely flexible schedule because of his illness, Youngjo would probably be overloaded and overwhelmed once he returned to his classes. Keonhee would know. It happened to him every time Hwanwoong dragged him into yet another festival.

"Okay," Youngjo said suddenly, startling Keonhee. "I'll do it."

Keonhee made a faint noise as something distinctly like a protest threatened to escape him, but it fell mute when he noticed how determined Youngjo looked. It was a bit off-putting because Keonhee couldn't really imagine why Youngjo was so stubborn about it; if it was a matter of pride, that was one thing, but there was honestly nothing to be gained if he slaved away on their stupid, little festival idea.

Well, Keonhee could appreciate the effort, at least.

"I look forward to working with you," said Keonhee.

Hwanwoong was a perfectionist, so he wouldn't let Keonhee see or even practice the choreography until he had it completed and perfected. That wouldn't be a problem if it was just the two of them, but they also had to consider Youngjo and adjust to his learning speed. 

Keonhee quickly picked up on the major moves, but he needed a few days to express the finer details to Hwanwoong's liking. They had no idea what Youngjo was like. As far as they were aware, he could have been a completely blank slate with dancing, and they would have to teach him even the basic points of rhythm. That was time-consuming in itself, and with Youngjo's added responsibility of producing the actual song, it seemed that Keonhee and Hwanwoong were dragging Youngjo further and further into their self-destructive lifestyle.

"Don't be so dramatic," Hwanwoong criticized when Keonhee bemoaned his concerns to him. "Youngjo knew what he was getting into when he volunteered. Just relax and have some faith in him."

Keonhee didn't refute then because his mind was fried from the day's lessons, but now, exams were over, and he was beside himself with anxiety: he was the only one out of the loop.

It didn't take him long to realize that Youngjo and Hwanwoong were collaborating together, and it made sense because it wasn't like Hwanwoong could craft a choreography without Youngjo laying the groundwork of the beat and tone. Keonhee could appreciate the hustle since their deadline was next month, but he would like an update on how the process was going. The group chat they'd created the day at the restaurant had gone completely silent in those four days, and Keonhee was almost hesitant to insist on being included in the preparation lest he ended up annoying them.

And so, Keonhee sat at his desk in his dormitory, pushing pens, as he watched the world go by. Cherry blossoms danced in the breeze, and Keonhee gazed upon their fluttering tango with envy. He wanted to be out there, dancing under Hwanwoong's strict instructions, listening to Youngjo's specially produced song, singing his heart out to his audience of two; he wanted to do something!

Someone knocked on his door. Keonhee startled and turned toward the door with mild confusion; Hwanwoong was still working his shift at the restaurant, Geonhak had dragged Dongju to the gym, and Keonhee could still hear the Digimon opening song blaring from the lounge, so Seoho definitely wasn't visiting him.

Youngjo's face peered through the doorway, and Keonhee was suddenly reminded that Youngjo did, in fact, live in the same share house as him.

"Hey," Youngjo greeted with a wave of his hand.

"Youngjo," Keonhee said, mildly unaware of how to react to such a sudden confrontation. "Did you need something?"

Youngjo hummed curiously as he tilted his head. His lips curled into an easy smile, and Keonhee knew his question wasn't particularly amusing, so he frowned at Youngjo.

"What?" Youngjo said. "Not happy to see me?"

"Just curious," Keonhee answered. "You've never dropped by before, after all."

"I can't just come say hi?"

"Pretty sure you would've left already, then."

Youngjo released a soft breath, and before Keonhee could discern whether it was a scoff or a laugh, Youngjo said, "I need your help with the recording."

Keonhee gazed uncomprehendingly at Youngjo for a moment before realizing he was finally getting involved with the preparation.

Sitting up in his seat, Keonhee faced Youngjo expectantly with a prompting, "How can I help?"

Youngjo's smile grew as he said, "Sing for me."

Keonhee blinked owlishly, momentarily stunned by Youngjo's request.

"Unless you're not comfortable with that, then—"

"No, no!" Keonhee interrupted hastily, standing from his chair and waving his hands frantically. "I'm fine with it, honestly! I just... This'll probably sound silly, but I didn't think I would actually be singing. Like, I've just been imagining myself lip-syncing to something you recorded."

"That doesn't seem very collaborative," Youngjo laughed.

"Well, the last festival Hwanwoong dragged me into, I was just his and Dongju's canvas to test their makeup skills."

"Oh? So you're used to just sitting there and looking pretty?"

Keonhee startled at Youngjo's tease because his voice was light-hearted and easy-going, as usual, yet his eyes were...molten. 

Keonhee knew Youngjo was openly expressive with his affection. It was one of—no, the first thing Keonhee had noticed about him. It was to his merit, too, because that was what ultimately helped him gain his fast-growing friendships. So, Keonhee was entirely too used to endearment that gleamed in Youngjo's eyes when they settled on him.

But this was...different. Keonhee couldn't tell how, but something wasn't the same. His eyes weren't as soft, gaining a sharper edge to them, and yet they still held that deep, dark pool of affection within them. But it wasn't the same.

"Cat got your tongue?" Youngjo teased, a Cheshire grin growing across his face.

Keonhee felt his body stiffen involuntarily, and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize his face was burning.

"When should I start?" Keonhee asked, ignoring Youngjo's taunt.

"I was thinking...tomorrow?" Youngjo replied. "I've got an exam at seven, so we could go to the studio afterward. Unless, you're already busy...?"

"My last exam was today, so don't worry about that. Though, you might need to come wake me up."

"I'm pretty sure I'll be finished with the exam well after nine."

"Exactly."

Youngjo's bemused expression brought a smile to Keonhee's face. Their other housemates had grown well-accustomed to his (and Hwanwoong's) abysmal sleep schedule, so it was a breath of fresh air to be faced with such wide-eyed innocence.

"Well," Youngjo said uncertainly, as though he wasn't sure if the conversation had officially come to an end, "I suppose I should get some last-minute studying in."

He turned to leave the dorm, and Keonhee raised a curious brow when Youngjo lingered in the ajar doorway. He glanced back toward Keonhee with a searching gaze, as though putting together a rather childish puzzle, before a wide grin overcame his face.

"Don't stay up too late," Youngjo warned before shutting the door.

Keonhee stood in bewildered silence before scoffing and shaking his head. The last time he'd heard a warning like that was from his mother—back when he was in middle school. Hearing it from someone who pointedly was not his mother somehow felt demeaning and patronizing, and though Keonhee knew Youngjo only said it so that it'd be easier to face the herculean task set up for them tomorrow, it still left a bad taste in his mouth. 

Keonhee, never one to stick his nose up at petty revenge, resolved to stay up until dawn.

Keonhee was certain he'd only closed his eyes for a moment. They were beginning to grow heavy, and he figured he'd let them rest for a few seconds so that the scenes of Penthouse no longer swam in his vision. However, when his tear-clumped lashes fluttered open again, he found himself face-to-face with Youngjo's blurry smile.

"You're awfully stubborn," Youngjo murmured.

Keonhee moaned something high and keen in the back of his throat as he attempted to roll away from Youngjo, only to slam his forehead against the wall. Keonhee groaned as he brought a tentative hand to the throbbing lump he was certain was already forming, and he glared at the wall as Youngjo's mellow laughter echoed through his dormitory.

"This isn't the wake-up call I wanted," Keonhee muttered as he rolled onto his back, looking up at Youngjo's entirely too pleased smile. "You're not at all concerned, are you?"

"Aw," Youngjo cooed as he leaned over Keonhee, gliding his fingertips along Keonhee's trembling jaw. "Do you want me to kiss it better?"

Keonhee recoiled at Youngjo's offer, and Youngjo's laughter returned. Keonhee huffed and swatted Youngjo's hand away as he slowly lifted his torso from the mattress, cradling his head in his palms as he glanced down at his open laptop. The paused image of Shim Suryeon reminded him of the epic showdown he'd watched mere hours before, and he mourned not being able to see the aftermath.

Youngjo's voice startled Keonhee from his thoughts as he asked, "Want an ice pack? It might slow down the swelling."

A wandering finger forewarned Keonhee of the bump that had formed, along with the throb of pain, and he nodded, pouting. 

Youngjo left the dorm to retrieve the ice pack, and Keonhee wasn't entirely sure they had any left; Youngjo's fever hadn't broken for the first two days of his flu, and Keonhee couldn't remember if their emergency first aid kit's stash had lasted.

Well, even if it hadn't, Keonhee mused, tossing his legs over the bedside, it wasn't the end of the world. His bangs would cover the swelling, and he'd survive far worse migraines.

Youngjo entered the dorm just as Keonhee managed to reach his closet door, and Keonhee turned toward him expectantly—only to startle backward when Youngjo immediately marched toward him and pulled back his fringe. His fingers were gentle as they pasted the ice pack to Keonhee's forehead, and Keonhee blinked at the blurry image of Youngjo's face.

Once satisfied with the pack's position, Youngjo backed away and met Keonhee's bewildered gaze. He offered Keonhee a crooked smile and puckered lips.

"Tell me if it still hurts," Youngjo said. "I'll kiss the pain away."

"Wow," Keonhee deadpanned, turning back to his closet. "It looks like the ice pack took all the pain away. It's a shame, but I won't be needing your kisses today, Youngjo."

"Well, that's the last ice pack, so I'll be sure to provide plenty when it warms up."

Keonhee tugged out a sweater and pair of jeans from the closet as he said, "I'll just buy more after we finish recording, you nerd."

"You're awfully realistic; Hwanwoong told me you were a romantic."

"Those aren't mutually exclusive."

Youngjo sighed, and Keonhee counted it as a win. He wasn't entirely sure there was a competition between them, but in light of gaining the verbal high ground for once, Keonhee was all too eager to claim victory over Youngjo.

"Anyway," Youngjo said, "you don't want to rest a little before we leave?"

"A bump on my head isn't gonna cripple me, y'know; you're a bigger headache than this."

Youngjo laughed, and Keonhee chanced a side-way glance to confirm that, yes, Youngjo was unperturbed by the jab. Odd. Keonhee would've suspected some form of retaliation with how comfortable Youngjo had been teasing him yesterday, but maybe it was too much to ask for some consistency. It wasn't like this back-and-forth they had going on was normal for Keonhee, either, so he merely shooed Youngjo out to change.

After getting dressed and arranging his fringe to cover the ice pack, Keonhee went to the lounge and found Youngjo observing Seoho. He sat in rapt silence as he watched Digimon, either ignoring them or unaware of their presence.

"Is he always like that?" Youngjo inquired as he slipped his sneakers on.

"Only when he doesn't have classes," Keonhee said as he tugged on a jacket. "He does it as a 'treat' for himself."

Youngjo hummed as he regarded Seoho with amusement before abruptly turning toward and opening the front door. Keonhee scrambled after him before the door could shut in his face, and he chased after Youngjo as he descended the stairs.

Keonhee was certain Youngjo enjoyed getting a rise out of him. Although they didn't have many chances to just sit and get to know each other, Keonhee was sharp enough to pick up on the easy curl of Youngjo's lips every time he thought of a smart retort to rile Keonhee up. Keonhee thought Dongju had been annoying, but time just seemed to make Dongju milder, and Youngjo seemed all too willing to fill in the space Dongju had left behind.

Keonhee didn't appreciate it, to say the least.

"If you're gonna go through the trouble of waking me up, at least wait," Keonhee huffed as he rushed to Youngjo's side. "How'd you manage to make friends with an attitude like that, huh?"

"Believe me when I say you're the only person I treat like this," Youngjo said.

"What, because you don't want to be my friend?"

"No, because you're cute, you nerd."

Keonhee stared at Youngjo's side profile with furrowed brows. Youngjo noticed his gaze and turned to meet it, his eyes deceptively innocent and smile wide and curious.

"Especially when you're mad," Youngjo continued, smile growing impossibly wider. "You get all red and jumpy."

Keonhee huffed, ignoring the heat that'd overcame his face, as he muttered, "You've got some weird hobbies." 

"I'm guessing the music doesn't count?" Youngjo taunted. "Well, I suppose it's more like a job at this point."

"Getting mad SoundCloud clout?"

"Enough to pay for the dorm and studio I rented out."

Keonhee coughed out his surprise, and Youngjo laughed.

"You didn't say your music made you rich!" Keonhee balked. "You never thought to tell me you're some sort of indie artist?"

"I figured making an entire track from scratch in four days would've made that obvious enough."

"You did that during exams?"

"Well, it's not like we have much time; I just worked on it whenever I could."

Keonhee shook his head in disbelief as he muttered, "You're insane..."

"Would it kill you to be grateful?"

Keonhee held his tongue because he was certain his reply would have been anything but kind. That, and it had finally dawned on him that, perhaps, he'd been a little too harsh toward Youngjo. Sure, it seemed like his life's mission was to get under Keonhee's skin, but that didn't undermine the fact he went out of his way to produce an entire song from scratch just for Keonhee and Hwanwoong's stupid, little festival idea. They hardly knew each other, and yet Youngjo had gone above and beyond to make their plan come to fruition.

Had it been anyone else, Keonhee would express his gratitude with grotesque praise and love, but since it was Youngjo, he would merely give him the benefit of his silence.

The bus ride was quiet because Youngjo made no effort to bring Keonhee back from his silent stupor, and Keonhee was all too willing to ignore Youngjo and gaze out the open window. The spring breeze blew against his face, and he was certain his hair was wild and unkempt in the wind, but he didn't mind; Keonhee watched as the world passed him by with an unfocused gaze, his eyes fluttering closed against his will as the moment's tranquility timidly embraced him.

Keonhee startled from his silent and weary stupor when he felt someone shake his shoulder. He turned and met Youngjo's bemused eyes, his sight blurry from the rest he might've gained.

"Come on," Youngjo beckoned, standing from his seat. "The bus's about to leave the stop."

Keonhee grunted, the sound getting caught somewhere in his throat, and he struggled to his feet. He held himself up by the backs of his and Youngjo's seats, and it wasn't until Youngjo came back to drag him down the aisle when Keonhee finally jolted fully awake.

They departed from the bus and walked the short distance from the bus stop to the recording studio. Keonhee nearly bumped into Youngjo's back when he halted in his tracks, and Keonhee was still too tired to do little more than glare at Youngjo as he turned toward him. However, Keonhee's annoyance gave way to surprise when Youngjo reached a hand toward his hair, and when he pulled away, Keonhee blinked at the delicate, white petal he held between his fingers.

"Landed on you while you were sleeping," Youngjo said.

Keonhee flushed at the realization that he had fallen asleep, and he watched as Youngjo allowed the petal to fall from his grasp. It fluttered in the wind for a brief moment before ultimately landing at Keonhee's feet. Keonhee stared at it for a few seconds, and it wasn't until Youngjo beckoned him over with a call of his name when he stepped over it and entered the studio.

Youngjo guided him down a narrow hall lined with doors, and if Keonhee strained his ears, he could hear the quiet assurance that people were in those studios, creating a work of art.

"Here we are," Youngjo announced.

Keonhee startled and looked toward the door Youngjo was fiddling with, struggling to put the key into the lock. Door 9 put up a fight against Youngjo, but it eventually relented and groaned open as Youngjo made a grand gesture for Keonhee to enter. Keonhee scoffed at Youngjo before entering the studio. His eyes wandered the quaint space: a desk with two large computer monitors stood front and center of the room with a soundboard set atop the desk; a sofa chair was squeezed into the corner near the door, and across it was an assortment of instruments, from guitars to a modest keyboard; and, lastly, Keonhee peered through the glass window in front of the monitors into the empty recording booth.

"I guess I should've had you warm up your voice," Youngjo mused as he shut the studio's door behind him. "Oh, well. It's not like I made the pitch particularly high, so it shouldn't strain your throat too much."

"Is Woong-ah coming?" Keonhee blurted.

Keonhee didn't have to look to know that Youngjo was smiling—he could hear it in the hum that escaped Youngjo as he approached the desk and turned on the computer.

"I'm letting him record his part after he finishes the choreo," said Youngjo. "I don't want to overwork him too much."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate your consideration—after getting annoyed that you'd left him out."

"You seem to know him pretty well."

"Yeah, well, we've known each other since high school. Hard to not know practically everything about each other after spending countless all-nighters together."

Youngjo fell still and silent, the quiet clanking of keys ceasing after Keonhee's response, and Keonhee looked away from the booth to meet Youngjo's piercing gaze. He startled when he realized Youngjo had probably been watching him the entire time, and he wasn't sure if his haughty retort of What are you looking at? was entirely warranted.

"Do you think," Youngjo began, tilting his head curiously, deceptively innocent, "that'll be us?"

Keonhee blinked and stared at Youngjo for a very, very long time. He would have thought time itself had stopped upon Youngjo's inquiry if it weren't for the delicate flutter of Youngjo's eyelashes, batting away any and all doubts Keonhee had that he was anything but serious.

Keonhee was ruthlessly outgoing. He stumbled over his words and often lost sight of any topic handed to him, but he was nevertheless stubborn and persistent in meeting and getting to know new people. He liked the idea of earnestly offering who he was as a person to someone else, forming a bond they would both grasp onto—tight. Keonhee could easily do what he did with Hwanwoong to Youngjo if he were to go by that mindset.

But...Youngjo was different. Youngjo was too jarring and unfathomable for Keonhee to comprehend, much less make an effort to get to know. Perhaps it was unfair of Keonhee, but he couldn't honestly see himself sharing the same relationship he had with Hwanwoong with Youngjo. It would feel far too alien and superficial if Keonhee put in the effort now; he'd been haughty and agitated toward Youngjo since their second conversation, so why put up the false sense of pleasantries?

Though, Keonhee would be the first to admit his annoyance toward Youngjo was earnest, which was a start, at the very least.

"No," Keonhee said.

Youngjo's eyes widened momentarily before he averted his gaze to the monitors, and Keonhee noticed the corner of his lips smooth out into a flat line.

"I don't think I'll be able to treat you the way I treat Hwanwoong," Keonhee continued, disturbed by his own honesty. "I mean, this is only the third time we've really spoken with each other; I've been with Hwanwoong since high school, and I honestly can't remember the last time I'd gone a day without talking to him. It's just not realistic to think I'd get that close to you in only a month.

"But, I don't think that's a bad thing."

Youngjo's hands, busy starting up the track, paused. Youngjo's head turned to meet Keonhee's gaze once more, and Keonhee couldn't bite back his smile when he saw Youngjo's doe-eyed confusion.

"I mean," Keonhee scoffed, "wouldn't it be boring to have the exact same dynamic with two different people?"

Youngjo blinked as he took a moment to consider Keonhee's response before a gentle smile quirked his lips once more.

"Yes," Youngjo agreed, turning back toward the monitors, "that would be boring."

Keonhee hummed in self-satisfaction, pleased with himself in successfully lifting Youngjo's mood. He supposed he was the one who caused it to drop initially, but at least he managed to clean up after himself.

After another moment of Youngjo fiddling with the program, dragging a chair to the desk, and collapsing into it, Youngjo procured a neatly folded piece of notebook paper and handed it to Keonhee.

"You'll do the first verse, chorus, and bridge," said Youngjo. "Feel free to adlib; I'll pick only the best ones."

Keonhee, glancing over the lyric sheet, asked, "Did you write these yourself?"

Keonhee realized his question had been stupid and redundant as he read more of the lyrics; they were all terribly affectionate, cheesy, and Youngjo.

"Well," Youngjo said with a growing grin as Keonhee grimaced at the lyric sheet, "I didn't plagiarize them."

"I'd hope not. Doesn't seem like something a well-off indie musician would stoop to.

"Anyways," Keonhee continued before Youngjo's conceited grin could fully form, "can I listen to the guide? It won't do me much good to memorize the lyrics without the pitch and melody."

"You seem to have experience with this," Youngjo mused as he turned back toward the monitors.

"Well, Woong-ah and I did a cover stage of Hug Me for our third year, so I at least know how the recording process goes."

"Makes my job easier. I'd love to see that, by the way. Is there a video of it?"

Keonhee grimaced at the thought of Youngjo seeing something from his high school festival career. He was mostly mortified by the mental image, but there was also a morbid sense of curiosity and expectancy; would Youngjo like it? Would he criticize Keonhee for his inexperience? Mock him?

Keonhee thought of the video he had saved on his phone as he said, "No. Sorry."

"That's a shame."

Youngjo looked genuinely disappointed, and Keonhee was almost remorseful for lying, but then he remembered who he was feeling sorry for and immediately cleared his conscience of regret.

"Anyways," Youngjo continued, clicking on the song file, "here's the guide."

Youngjo's voice crooned through the speakers. It was abrupt and startled Keonhee because he'd been expecting the typical instrumental lead-up. He wouldn't say he was displeased by it, though; Youngjo's voice was fruity and smooth, and Keonhee was momentarily stunned mute by how...nice it sounded. Perhaps it was ignorant of him, but he'd assumed that Youngjo was an artist who was heavily reliant on voice filters and auto-tunes to achieve the supposed fame he'd gained. However, much to his reluctant surprise, Youngjo's voice was earnestly his as he crooned and rapped about a romance blossoming in spring.

The song's final notes gently faded away, Youngjo's voice dissolving with them, and Keonhee realized the ice pack had grown unbearably warm.

As Keonhee peeled the pack from his forehead, Youngjo spun the chair toward him and asked, "Well?"

Fixing his fringe back into place, Keonhee said, "Yeah, I've got the melody down. Might need some pointers with the pitch, though."

Youngjo's sigh distracted him, and Keonhee turned toward him with a raised brow. 

"I was wondering what you thought of the song," Youngjo clarified.

Keonhee released a quiet "oh" in realization. He clutched the ice pack in his palm as he thought back to the gentle crescendo of the piano, the plucky tune of the guitar, and the smooth complement of rhythmic bass.

"Yeah," Keonhee said. "It's good. Definitely spring-like. I think Woong-ah will be able to create a choreo for it easily."

"You're quite obtuse," Youngjo sighed.

Keonhee startled at the unprovoked diss before stopping himself from the immediate retort he had tart on his tongue and thinking back to Youngjo's expectant, wide-eyed expression as he awaited Keonhee's feedback. It was almost as though...

"I would think you get plenty of praise from your fans," Keonhee scoffed.

"Well, you're not wrong about that," said Youngjo, a hint of fondness in his voice. "But this is different. I usually get praised by people who know and like me, so getting praised by somebody who's never listened to my music before is...much more rewarding."

"You just want someone different to stroke your ego?"

"Would it be too much to ask of you to indulge me?"

Keonhee would've denied Youngjo's request right then and there, but he stopped short of his brutal refusal when he met Youngjo's wide, doe-eyed stare. It was helplessly hopeful and endlessly kind, like if Keonhee so much as said "I liked it," those eyes would procure tears as fresh as morning dew. 

Swallowing his pride, darting his gaze down to the ice pack clutched tight in his hand, Keonhee said, "I can tell you put a lot of time and effort into it. I wasn't really expecting anything great since you'd only worked on it for four days, but it sounds like something you put a lot of heart into." He laughed. "I guess I should've realized that sooner when I read your lyrics. Seriously, it makes me wonder if you've ever fallen in love."

Silence met Keonhee's praise, and Keonhee couldn't bring himself to meet Youngjo's gaze. He worried if he'd been too heavy-handed with the positive affirmation and stunned Youngjo into a muted sense of wonder, but that fear was for naught when a soft exhale of breath filled the hushed studio. Keonhee lifted his eyes from the ice pack and looked at Youngjo, blinking dumbly at the affectionate gaze that met his.

"Is that so?" was all Youngjo had to say before facing the monitors once more.

The actual recording process itself was nothing short of...frustrating. Keonhee couldn't hit the notes he needed to, much less wanted to ("Low-toned adlibs are an option, Keonhee-ah," Youngjo assured him when he'd been on the verge of tears). He didn't think his short-minded pettiness would cost him an entire recording session, and he was reluctant to call it quits if only to prove to himself that he could do it—that this was only some fluke or bad luck he could overcome with sheer willpower.

Youngjo pulled the plug on that desperation come noon.

"You need a break," Youngjo said through the intercom. "C'mon, I've already ordered lunch."

Keonhee was never one to deny free food, so he tucked the headphones over the music stand and left the recording booth. Youngjo stood from the chair, stretched his arms above his head, and Keonhee realized he hadn't been the only one suffering when he'd heard Youngjo's joints pop. 

It was easy to forget, but being the director of a song was just as stressful as being the singer, and Youngjo was both. Youngjo knew exactly how he wanted his song to sound, and he'd proven himself capable of achieving those standards just from the guide version. It was humiliating, Keonhee realized with a jolt, to be shown how inexperienced he truly was. Keonhee dared to say he knew what he was doing when he'd yet to show any proof to back up those bold claims. 

Keonhee fixed his fringe, which had become wild and unkempt with how often he dragged his fingers through it, in a vain attempt to ignore the heat in his cheeks.

Youngjo guided them to the hot pot restaurant, and Keonhee was momentarily startled by how close it was to the studio.

"I guess that's why you come here so often?" Keonhee mused.

"I placed an order under Kim Youngjo," Youngjo told the waitress. He turned back toward Keonhee with a sheepish grin. "So, you've discovered my secret."

"I won't tell anyone if you tell me why we aren't eating here."

"Ah, eager to learn my other secret?"

Keonhee raised a brow at Youngjo's elusive answer, but he didn't pry any further because that would be feeding into whatever power play Youngjo was trying to exert. As long as Keonhee didn't bite, he wouldn't be reeled in.

Keonhee pressed himself against the wall as he waited for Youngjo to collect their lunch. The crowd was just as large as the one during their last visit, and it was a wonder Youngjo managed to get his order served in such a timely manner. Though, perhaps Keonhee had been too busy wallowing in despair to notice him place it earlier. Yeah, that definitely explained it; Youngjo had been fiddling with his phone when Keonhee took a self-imposed mental break, and that had been around an hour before Youngjo declared their lunch break.

Keonhee should probably feel grateful toward Youngjo. He was going above and beyond to make Keonhee as comfortable as possible despite Keonhee's less than stellar attitude, but Keonhee couldn't help but feel like this was all for Youngjo's benefit. After all, a happy, well-fed singer was an obedient singer. 

When Youngjo approached him with their order in hand, Keonhee couldn't help but frown at him.

"Hwanwoong told me food always made you happy," Youngjo said. "Is he wrong about that, too?"

"Why does Woong-ah keep talking to you about me?" Keonhee grumbled as he led the way to the front door and down the sidewalk.

"Because I keep asking."

"Why?"

"Because I want to get to know you."

"And you couldn't have done that the normal way?"

"Well, you're special."

Keonhee paused and turned toward Youngjo, squinting past the glaring afternoon sun to meet his molten gaze. It still caught him off-guard whenever Youngjo said something as honey-coated and cheesy as that, but he was starting to grow a resistance to it. Maybe that was too telling, considering they'd only had a handful of conversations together, but Youngjo was nothing if gracious with his compliments and praises during their recording session.

However, Keonhee was still startled and stunned by the deep affection within his eyes.

Stiffly, awkwardly, Keonhee looked away as he asked, "So? Where are we going?"

Youngjo granted him some mercy and didn't tease him for his stilted change in topic, instead replying with, "The park."

Keonhee blinked past the sunlight as he echoed, "The park?"

Keonhee startled when Youngjo grabbed his hand, and Keonhee stumbled after him when he dragged them in the opposite direction. As they hustled across roads, slipped past crowded sidewalks, and maneuvered through alleyways, Keonhee complained the entire way. He was sure his whining and bemoaning would do a number on his voice, but he couldn't find it in himself to care; Youngjo offered no explanation to him, so Keonhee took his silence as a personal attack and made his displeasure known by way of noise.

When Youngjo finally released Keonhee's hand, abruptly stopping in his tracks, Keonhee was too startled to make a complaint against him. Youngjo looked over his shoulder and jerked his head to the side, and Keonhee trailed his gaze toward Youngjo's pointing and—

"Oh," Keonhee exclaimed softly.

It was a quaint, riverside park. Keonhee hadn't known there was one in this area.

"I come here whenever I need a break," Youngjo said, already walking forward, leaving Keonhee to hastily follow after him. "It's nice; there are mostly only families who come here to play with their kids and a few others having picnics, so it's really peaceful. Plus, it's a fantastic source for inspiration."

"Because of the nature?" Keonhee presumed.

"Because of the life."

Keonhee didn't know how that was any different from what he'd said, but one glance at Youngjo forewarned Keonhee of questioning him; he bore an entirely too satisfied grin, as though his reply was poetic genius. 

Keonhee ignored Youngjo's egotism and marched on forward to a nearby bench. It was situated squarely before the park trail, but it offered a nice view of the river, so Keonhee sank into it with no complaints as a pair of joggers passed him by. Youngjo joined him, placing their food onto his lap, and seemed all too willing to surrender their lunch break to watch the scenery; his eyes were steady and relaxed as they wandered the slope of the riverbank, his lips curled with the breeze that filtered through the waving grass blades, and he released a deep, content sigh that fluttered and disturbed the wavering petals that threatened to drift near him.

Youngjo's gaze abruptly shifted toward Keonhee, and Keonhee was startled by the sudden attention. It hadn't occurred to him that he'd been staring at Youngjo for Lord knows how long, and he was just glad he had a viable excuse:

"Holding my food hostage?" Keonhee questioned. 

He was glad his voice didn't waver. It allowed him a moment of relief of finally not being caught off-guard by Youngjo.

"I figured you'd serve yourself," Youngjo replied. 

His smile was as warm as the sunlight that shone upon them, and Keonhee wasn't entirely sure the situation called for Youngjo's endearment. However, that didn't stop him from taking advantage of Youngjo's show of kindness; he reached into the plastic take-out bag and grabbed the bowl on top. The dish inside seeped its warmth into the plastic bowl, and Keonhee figured they must've spent far too long admiring the scenery because the container should've burned his hands.

"I got us both regular spice," Youngjo said as he pulled out the second container and shoved the plastic bag beneath his thigh. "I figured it was the price you'd have to pay for not getting the seafood dish."

"Not my fault I can't eat squid," Keonhee muttered, and Youngjo laughed. "I didn't come outside just to sweat while eating my food, y'know. Plus, this is gonna make me congested; how do you expect me to sing after this?"

"Power through the pain, Keonhee-ah."

Keonhee huffed and didn't allow himself to turn and look at the grin that had most certainly blossomed across Youngjo's face. Instead, he pried open the lid of his container, snatched the chopsticks Youngjo handed him, and began eating.

They fell silent after that, save for their lips smacking and the occasional sigh. When the heat became too overwhelming, Keonhee took brief moments to sit back and admire the nature surrounding them, if only to distract himself from the pain. 

As the broth in their bowls began to wane, as the fever in Keonhee's head grew to blistering levels, they both decided to call it quits. Keonhee couldn't really feel guilty for the amount left in his bowl because, at the very least, he felt full. The serving was large, and his will was weak, so he couldn't rightfully blame this predicament on anyone but Youngjo.

"I'll throw them away," Youngjo offered, already standing from the bench, and Keonhee stared at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Keonhee replied. He handed over his container and chopsticks with little reluctance, and as Youngjo began to walk away, he called out, "Don't take all day!"

The only response he got was Youngjo's laughter, so Keonhee didn't have any hope for him. Not that it bothered him, really. He wasn't all too enthused to go back to the recording booth, so the longer Youngjo took, the longer Keonhee could just sit there and...relax.

Keonhee swung his legs onto the bench and laid across it, his calves ultimately hanging off the edge. He stared up at the wide, blue sky and considered the hazy clouds with slight curiosity. They spread themselves across the open sky like cream and seemed to hold no weight to their obscure forms; Keonhee wanted to drag his hands through them, to feel their dissipating weight against his fingertips. 

His arm reached up toward the sky of its own accord, and Keonhee startled when he heard a camera shutter. He jolted from the bench and blinked dumbly when he realized it had been Youngjo who'd snapped a photo. 

"Sorry," Youngjo said, though he didn't look apologetic in the least. "Force of habit."

Keonhee considered Youngjo's apology for a moment, struggling to comprehend the reason and half-hearted explanation, before realization dawned upon him.

"Do all Photography majors carry cameras with them wherever they go?" Keonhee questioned as he stood from the bench and approached Youngjo. "Actually, where did you get that?"

"Not even I would do that; this is just a special exception," Youngjo explained. "And I've had it the entire time. I was just waiting for the right moment to use it."

"So? What'd you end up taking a picture of?"

Youngjo's eyes curled with the smile he'd grown. "A flower."

Keonhee hummed as he glanced around the park, searching for Youngjo's muse. While there'd been petals in the wind, Keonhee recognized them as products of a blossomed tree; they could've easily been carried over from the other side of the river. He hadn't noticed any obvious buds or flowers that'd bloomed when they came to the park (granted, he'd been distracted), so he admired Youngjo's discerning eyes that caught what could not be easily seen.

However, no matter how hard he searched, Keonhee couldn't seem to spot the damned thing.

Keonhee turned back to Youngjo, head tilted imploringly, as he asked, "Where is it?"

Youngjo's smile grew as though something particularly hilarious had occurred. "Only kind people can see it, Keonhee-ah."

Keonhee scoffed, and that just seemed to please Youngjo even further. 

"You're insufferable," Keonhee muttered.

"And yet, you're willing to put up with me," Youngjo said, already turning around and retracing their steps back to the recording studio.

Keonhee felt his face twitch into something indiscernible (probably unpleasant), but he couldn't refute Youngjo. Keonhee could blame his tolerance on the fact that Youngjo was the main contributor to their festival idea, but Hwanwoong had filled that position countless times in the past, and Keonhee never shied away from stubbornly ignoring any and all nonsense Hwanwoong would toss his way.

Maybe Keonhee was growing soft.

They were only able to record for a few more hours before Keonhee's patience grew paper thin once more; his throat was sore and raw, and he couldn't seem to stop himself from glaring at Youngjo whenever their eyes met through the recording booth's window.

"Shall we call it a day?" Youngjo suggested when Keonhee didn't relent in one of their abrupt stare-downs.

Keonhee was all too eager to leave the booth, and he relished in the studio's air conditioning; the recording booth threatened to melt him alive, and Keonhee silently reminded himself to not wear a sweater next time. 

"You did good," Youngjo said as he spun his chair to face Keonhee. "I think we can rerecord some of the rougher takes tomorrow, and you'll be good to go."

"Just make sure to invite Woong-ah this time," Keonhee reminded Youngjo as he combed his sweaty, matted bangs into place, hoping they covered the lump on his forehead. "The sooner we get the song recorded, the sooner we can learn the dance."

"You seem pretty concerned about that."

"Well, unless you're also hiding some hidden dancing skills, I have every right to be; Hwanwoongie is relentless with his choreos."

"He must have a lot of faith in you, then."

Keonhee blinked, stupefied. "Huh?"

"If he's still creating difficult dances, then he must believe you're going to achieve his vision," Youngjo explained. "If you weren't able to meet his standards, then I'm certain he would've lowered them long ago. However, you continue to meet them time and time again, so he has no reason to worry about your abilities as a dancer."

Keonhee blinked once more, thoroughly stunned by Youngjo's observation. Keonhee knew Youngjo had a keen eye for details, given what he's majoring in, but he never factored in that Youngjo was a master at reading people; Youngjo knew exactly how to push Keonhee's buttons and how to soothe him when he grew too agitated, and he even understood Hwanwoong's apparent confidence in Keonhee's skills.

Keonhee parted his lips to say...what? He couldn't conjure up any sort of response, and he realized he'd fallen, once more, into Youngjo's trap; Youngjo grew a wide smile as he stood from his seat and approached Keonhee, and Keonhee had enough wits about him to take a step back. Youngjo relented and stood where he was, but he was close enough to breach the distance between them to bring a hand up to Keonhee's forehead. He brushed Keonhee's fringe back with his thumb and stared resolutely at the spot Keonhee was almost certain had swelled in size. Suddenly, Keonhee remembered Youngjo's threat to kiss it better, and he unwittingly flinched at the thought.

Youngjo pulled his hand away, and Keonhee almost felt relieved, but his relief quickly melded into dread when Youngjo brought his fingers to his lips. Before Keonhee could dart away, Youngjo swiftly pressed his fingertips to Keonhee's forehead, and Keonhee recoiled from Youngjo's touch.

"C'mon," Youngjo said, pulling his bag from the sofa chair and walking toward the door. "Let's go home."

Keonhee stood in place for a moment, mildly disturbed—but not for the reason he thought he'd be. Keonhee brought his trembling hand to his forehead, but he didn't dare touch it; his fingertips hovered above the swollen lump with foreign trepidation, and Keonhee wasn't entirely sure why the studio's air conditioner seemed to do nothing to quell the fire within his lungs.

The following day found Keonhee, once more, being woken up by Youngjo. He groaned and complained, but he wasn't nearly as drowsy as he was yesterday; he'd relented to Youngjo's silent demand of sleeping at a reasonable time and found that his head was clear enough to go through his morning routine without inflicting any injuries upon himself. It was refreshing to be awake at a reasonable time, but Keonhee couldn't help but feel a little floaty and disorientated as he waited for Youngjo to wake up Hwanwoong.

Keonhee sank into the lounge's couch as he contemplated eating breakfast before getting distracted by Hwanwoong stumbling down the hallway. His hair was wild and unkempt, he could barely keep his eyes open long enough to not bump into furniture, and Keonhee suddenly remembered that Hwanwoong worked the night shift at the restaurant.

"Did you at least skip practicing the choreo?" Keonhee sighed.

Hwanwoong fell onto the cushion beside Keonhee and muttered, "No."

"You're gonna die before the second semester."

"At least I'm going out with a bang."

"Deteriorating away because you can't take care of yourself?"

"Hell yeah."

Keonhee had a refute tart on his tongue when Youngjo cleared his throat, announcing his arrival and effectively cutting off the argument that was bound to arise.

"We better get going," Youngjo said as he glanced down at his watch. "If we're gonna try to get some dance practice in, we gotta hurry up and finish recording."

"I'm guessing Woong-ah talked you into that?" Keonhee mused as he stood from the couch, pulling Hwanwoong to his feet when he held his hands up pitifully.

"Well, he has a way with words."

"I didn't think the sweet-talker would relent to a sleep-deprived, overworked college student."

"You say that like I'm not one?"

"Sorry, I figured since you're a famous SoundCloud artist—"

"Oh my God," Hwanwoong groaned. "Please, stop. I'm working on forty minutes of sleep, and I can not deal with this today."

Keonhee's mouth stammered closed, and he shared a bemused glance with Youngjo. Youngjo broke eye contact to walk toward the door, and Keonhee and Hwanwoong followed him. Youngjo guided them down the street and toward the bus stop, and Keonhee made sure to keep Hwanwoong from bumping into people and inanimate objects. The bus arrived, and they boarded it with little fanfare. Hwanwoong squeezed himself into a window seat, Keonhee slid into the seat next to him, and Youngjo chose to stand and hold onto a pole near their seats. Keonhee would've offered to switch places with him, but he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't fall asleep standing up. So, when Hwanwoong leaned his head against his shoulder, Keonhee placed his head atop Hwanwoong's and allowed his eyes to flutter closed.

Keonhee was awoken in much the same manner as last time; Youngjo shook his shoulder and gently beckoned him to his feet. Once he'd regained his sense of balance, Keonhee stumbled off the bus and followed after Youngjo, who guided Hwanwoong by the shoulders. They crowded into the studio, Hwanwoong immediately collapsing into the sofa chair, and Keonhee watched Youngjo set up the song file. 

"Who wants to go first?" Youngjo asked as he spun his chair toward Keonhee and Hwanwoong.

Keonhee flitted his eyes toward Hwanwoong, and he rolled them when he realized Hwanwoong had already fallen into a deep slumber.

"It's a personal talent of his," Keonhee explained as he stepped into the recording booth and adjusted the headphones. "I'm pretty sure he's gonna sleep through the adlibs."

"Why not make an alarm for him?" Youngjo asked mirthfully. "We have the equipment and everything."

"If he's not awake by the time I'm finished, then yes."

And so, they set about polishing Keonhee's previous takes. Youngjo guided him through the trickier and more complicated parts ("Use your head voice here, and try not to breathe through your nose there."), and Keonhee was just grateful his patience wasn't waning like it had yesterday. Perhaps all he really needed to interact civilly with Youngjo was a good night's rest.

Keonhee crooned out the final chorus, his voice reverberating within his sweating ears, and silence filled the booth. He looked expectantly toward Youngjo, who was busy rearranging the vocal files, and prayed to all that was holy that was the last take he had to do. When Youngjo met his wide-eyed stare, Keonhee could've sagged to the floor in relief when he offered a thumbs-up.

"Glad to see you're in better condition," Youngjo commented as Keonhee exited the booth. "I was worried you were going to fall into another funk."

"Just say 'I told you so'," Keonhee grumbled as he shook Hwanwoong's shoulder. "Your turn."

"While I am glad you followed my advice," Youngjo said, "it's also nice to, you know, just give you some praise."

"You already did that yesterday, though."

"And I will continue to if you keep showing good results."

"You realize you're not the one instructing the choreo, right?"

"Christ," Hwanwoong mumbled. "How is anyone supposed to sleep with all this bickering?"

"We're not bickering! Anyways," Keonhee continued before Youngjo could argue against him, "there's no time for you to sleep, remember? The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can teach us the dance."

"Oh, joy."

Keonhee tugged Hwanwoong from the chair, and Hwanwoong didn't make it easy for him; he fell limp and boneless in Keonhee's hold, and Keonhee had half a mind to just drop him to the floor. However, he was aware and sympathetic toward Hwanwoong's abysmal sleep-work schedule, so he merely tickled him into full consciousness. Hwanwoong muttered his grievances against Keonhee, but Keonhee didn't pay him any attention; he sank into the sofa chair, still warm from Hwanwoong's body heat, and surrendered himself to the sleep enshrouding his vision.

Keonhee awoke not to Youngjo, as he had been expecting, but to Hwanwoong's singing. Keonhee felt groggy and overall unfit for dance, but when he heard Hwanwoong's voice request for "one more take", he knew it was going to be a while before he had to worry about moving.

Keonhee reclined further into the chair and watched Youngjo direct Hwanwoong through the bridge, which had brought Keonhee to his knees yesterday.

"Why did you make it so hard?" Keonhee bemoaned.

Youngjo was startled upon Keonhee's complaint, and he sent him a backward glance before offering a wry smile.

"Well, I had faith in you," Youngjo replied.

"You and Woong-ah get along great."

"We won't for much longer if you keep distracting him, Keonhee-ah," Hwanwoong said. "If we're gonna get some practice in, you two are gonna have to stop arguing."

"Well," Keonhee huffed, "he's really annoying."

"You know he only does that because—"

"He has nothing better to do?"

"—you're cute."

"Yeah, that's exactly what he said when I asked him."

"You two talk about me like I'm not right here," Youngjo mused.

"Well, you aren't exactly contributing to the conversation," said Keonhee.

"And you're not actively directing, so…" Hwanwoong teased.

"I know, I know," Youngjo yielded. "It's always my fault, huh?"

Keonhee and Hwanwoong relented in their teasing, and Youngjo went back to directing Hwanwoong. Keonhee melted into the background, unable to intrude upon Hwanwoong's recording process since he, honestly, had no advice to offer; it was a miracle Keonhee was able to get through his own without any major faults, and he doubted Hwanwoong would appreciate any help he had to offer.

Besides, he didn't need it; after another hour or so, Hwanwoong was finished, and Youngjo was all too eager to lavish him in praise.

"Don't get all sappy just yet," Hwanwoong warned. "I forgot to rent out a studio last night, so we have nowhere to practice."

"How about we practice at the park?" Youngjo suggested.

"Wouldn't the ground be too uneven?" Keonhee asked.

"As long as none of us get a twisted ankle," Hwanwoong said, "I don't care where we practice. Let's just get started before we lose any more daylight."

After Youngjo transferred the song file to his phone, they packed up their items and left the studio. Youngjo guided them to the park because Keonhee couldn't remember the exact directions, and Hwanwoong couldn't trust him to not get them all lost. 

When they arrived at the park, Keonhee noticed more families and couples were loitering around than yesterday. He supposed it made sense since it was the weekend, and he just hoped it wouldn't hinder their practice.

"This place is nice," Hwanwoong mused. "Wish I could've joined you guys yesterday. Especially since Youngjo bought lunch."

"You wouldn't have liked it," Keonhee drawled. "If the regular spice was too much for us, you probably would've died if you ate it."

"What is up with you thinking I'll keel over at the slightest inconvenience?"

"I don't think sleep deprivation is a 'slight' inconvenience," said Youngjo. "Anyways, I thought you were the one who wanted to get as much practice as possible done; what's the hold-up?"

"Is Keonhee rubbing off on you?"

Before Keonhee could understand the implications of Hwanwoong's accusation, Hwanwoong held his hand out for Youngjo's phone. Youngjo placed it in Hwanwoong's palm, and Hwanwoong fiddled with the screen for a few moments before handing it back to Youngjo. He then pulled out his own phone and, after a couple of seconds, the song they'd recorded blared through the speakers.

"Much better than the guide version," said Hwanwoong.

"I would hope so," Keonhee scoffed. "I slaved over those adlibs."

"What? Were mine not good enough?" Youngjo asked, and Keonhee didn't have to look to know he was pouting. He just seemed like the type.

"Never mind that," Hwanwoong interrupted. "C'mon, I'll run through the first verse with you guys."

Hwanwoong forced them through his warm-up routine, and Keonhee was able to get through it without straining himself because it was the same one Hwanwoong had been using since high school. Youngjo, on the other hand, had some stiff joints and muscles that had him groaning when they were stretched. Keonhee knew it was because he'd spent the last five days holed up in a studio, but imagining Youngjo as some decrepit old man was an amusing thought.

When he deemed their warm-up satisfactory, Hwanwoong began teaching them the basic moves of the dance. Keonhee was able to follow Hwanwoong's movements and instructions due to their familiarity, and a quick side-way glance forewarned him that Youngjo...could keep up. It was miraculous because Keonhee had expected him to be like a fish out of water, completely helpless and falling about. Instead, Youngjo proved, once more, that he was capable and competent enough to keep up with Keonhee and Hwanwoong's self-destructive lifestyle.

Keonhee paused for a moment, contemplating his general lack of belief in Youngjo. It was baffling because he wasn't usually one to immediately regard someone in a negative light. It just...wasn't what he did; he saw the best in people, or at least, he tried. But, for whatever reason, Youngjo had flipped a switch in him that raised his hackles and had his wits sharply narrowed in disbelief and distrust.

He...should probably put more faith in Youngjo—starting now.

"Keonhee! Don't lose focus!"

Keonhee snapped out of his thoughts upon Hwanwoong's shout and renewed his efforts in learning the choreography. Youngjo snickered beside him, and Keonhee turned to glare at him, but Hwanwoong snapped his fingers and insisted that Keonhee didn't "bite Youngjo's bait". Keonhee hadn't even known Youngjo was attempting to reel him in, and that was all the more frustrating; how was Keonhee supposed to have any sort of respect for Youngjo if he kept nipping at his heels at any given chance?

Thankfully, Hwanwoong kept them busy, and Keonhee couldn't even think of Youngjo, much less of his incompetence and infuriating tendencies.

"Alright," Hwanwoong gasped, the dusk's waning light highlighting the sheen on his skin. "I think we can call it a day."

Keonhee immediately collapsed onto the grass, and he was mildly impressed Youngjo was able to hold his stance. Granted, he was bent over with his hands on his knees, but Keonhee figured he was just trying to keep his clothes from getting dirty. Of course, it didn't really make sense since they were already soaked in sweat, but Keonhee wasn't going to go out of his way to point that out.

"What do you guys wanna eat?" Hwanwoong asked as he paused the looping track. "Same place, Youngjo?"

"As long as Keonhee isn't tired of it," said Youngjo.

Keonhee could feel Youngjo's gaze on him as his eyes stayed resolute to the evening sky, and he contemplated his answer before saying, "Just don't order spicy, please."

"Looks like it's decided. Youngjo," Hwanwoong said, "give me your card."

"Shouldn't you pay, Hwanwoongie? After all, you didn't bother to get us an actual studio," Keonhee teased.

"Yeah, it's only fair," Youngjo joined.

"I'm never working with you guys again," Hwanwoong deadpanned.

Despite his clear reluctance, Hwanwoong pardoned himself from their group to order and pick up the food. He warned Youngjo and Keonhee to not run off, to which Keonhee replied, "Me? Run away from free food? Hwanwoong, I thought you knew me better than that."

Youngjo's laughter echoed across the park, and it almost distracted Keonhee from Hwanwoong retreating. Keonhee didn't mind the abrupt farewell, though; he'd grown used to being in Youngjo's company, and he was so exhausted he doubted he'd get riled up by Youngjo's usual teasing.

Despite Keonhee's silent belief, when Youngjo fell down beside him, he worried his patience would be immediately tested. However, to his own relief, Youngjo didn't bother him or even try to strike up a conversation; Keonhee listened as he fiddled with the grass blades, laser-focused on his task at hand, and he lifted his torso from the ground. His body was already sore, and he dreaded their next practice session, but there was an odd sense of satisfaction welling up within his chest; they were finally putting their plan to motion, and he couldn't wait to present the fruits of their labor to their peers.

Keonhee fluttered his eyes closed as the spring breeze rolled over him. He strained his ears to listen to the waning life surrounding him: families bidding their farewells, the river rippling and rushing under the quiet beckoning of the wind, and the faint melodies of retreating songbirds chimed within Keonhee's ears.

"There," Youngjo suddenly exclaimed.

Keonhee looked toward Youngjo with mild confusion before darting his gaze down to Youngjo's hands: Anemone buds crowned a thin twig, the buds' stems wound around it, and Keonhee belatedly recognized what Youngjo had made.

"I didn't know you could make flower crowns," Keonhee said

"Well, I haven't since I was in middle school," Youngjo replied. "But I remembered how relaxing it was, so I figured I may as well give it a go."

Youngjo considered his craft for a few seconds before looking toward Keonhee. Keonhee raised a brow at Youngjo's calculating gaze, and he almost made a half-haughty retort, but Keonhee's unwitting agitation died down when Youngjo lifted the crown and gently place it atop his head. Keonhee blinked at Youngjo's sudden gift and sat perfectly still as Youngjo's careful, delicate hands adjusted the crown so that the buds were more centered.

Youngjo pulled away after a few more seconds of fussing and appraised Keonhee's appearance with a warm smile.

"Looks good," Youngjo said.

Keonhee wasn't sure how to take Youngjo's compliment because it could very well be an attempt to praise his own craftmanship, but his hesitance cost him because Youngjo's smile only grew. Keonhee would have frowned and brushed aside Youngjo's attempt at being civil had it not been for the gentle breeze that passed them by; the wind carded through Youngjo's hair, ruffling his fringe with an affectionate touch, and Youngjo's eyes slid closed as he basked in the gentle sunlight that greeted him with the breeze's parting. 

Honey-toned and glowing, Youngjo looked almost ethereal.

Keonhee considered the attempted heavenly display before realizing the finishing touch would be the very thing that was...no longer on his head.

Keonhee startled when he realized he could no longer feel the gentle weight of the buds, and he ran his fingers through his hair to confirm that the crown had, indeed, been blown away.

"It's rude to lose a gift, you know," Youngjo chastised.

Keonhee startled at Youngjo's sudden comment, and he frowned when he realized Youngjo had finished sunbathing when a cloud rolled over them.

"It's not like I lost it on purpose," Keonhee barked. He darted his eyes around the surrounding area, a twang of disappointment running through his chest when he couldn't spot the flower crown anywhere near them. "If only that breeze had been there during practice, huh?"

"I dunno. I feel like you would've found some way to complain about it."

Keonhee turned and glared at Youngjo, and all he received was a gentle grin. 

"You two are ridiculous."

Keonhee startled and looked up at Hwanwoong, who approached them with two carry-out bags with the familiar logo of the hot pot restaurant. 

"I would've hoped practicing together would get rid of any bad blood between you guys," Hwanwoong continued as he settled down next to Keonhee, untying one of the bags as he set the other beside himself.

"We don't have any 'bad blood'," Keonhee argued.

"Hwanwoong-ah told me you aren't usually this nippy with other people," said Youngjo. "Makes it hard to believe you don't have some personal grudge against me, huh?"

"Well, you're the one antagonizing me!"

"Is that what you think this is?"

"Stop trying to make Keonhee use his head and hurry up and eat," Hwanwoong reprimanded, and Keonhee only had a brief moment to feel insulted before being served his bowl. "Don't think too much about it," Hwanwoong continued. "Though, I will tell you, he isn't antagonizing you. I think he's incapable of doing that."

"Is that your way of telling me you think I'm too soft?" Youngjo inquired.

"Well, you're certainly not mean-spirited."

Keonhee tuned out Hwanwoong and Youngjo's conversation, focusing on his meal and relishing in the gentle wind that smoothed over the creases in his brow and released the tension from his sore muscles. It was delightfully peaceful, and though Keonhee dreaded any and all future practice sessions, he couldn't find it in himself to be truly distraught; with a view as lovely as the sun setting beyond the river, how could Keonhee possibly have any worries?

"What are we going to wear for the performance?"

Keonhee felt his face contort into a grimace and, with noodles clamped between his lips, met Youngjo's inquisitive stare with a slight glare.

"Don't look like that," Hwanwoong scolded, poking Keonhee's bulging cheek. "It's not like we have to go all out since we need to wear something that'll be easy to dance in."

"Something spring-related…" Youngjo mused.

Keonhee swallowed the pork and noodles that'd been keeping him silent and, without much thought, suggested, "We should wear flower crowns."

"Well, it certainly fits the spring theme," Hwanwoong said, "but what brought this on so suddenly?"

Keonhee's eyes darted toward Youngjo, who offered him a knowing smile, and Keonhee felt the spring warmth settle within his cheeks as he met Hwanwoong's bemused stare.

"I was...inspired."

The days passed by with relentless ease. That wasn’t to say that the practice sessions got any easier because once they mastered the steps, they had to learn to sing while dancing, which was probably Keonhee’s least favorite task they had set up for themselves. There was also the matter with Youngjo, which hadn’t improved despite Hwanwoong’s earnest attempts at getting them to be civil with each other. But, well, Keonhee was finding difficulty becoming nearly as heated with Youngjo as he once was because he was...exhausted.

Anyway, the days did not pass by easily because of anything Keonhee was actively doing, but, rather, because the day of the festival was fast approaching, and professors were starting to relent in their usual workload. Sure, less time studying and working on assignments meant more time practicing, but Keonhee much preferred passing out in his bed after a long practice session rather than at his desk doing homework.

Actually, maybe the days weren’t passing by that easily because, no matter how early he went to bed or how long he attempted to sleep, Keonhee still found himself exhausted.

“You’re not getting sick, are you?” Hwanwoong accused when Keonhee whined about his exhaustion.

“I’m pretty sure I would have a fever by now,” said Keonhee. “I bet it’s just because you refuse to let me sleep in peace in my own dorm.”

“Any time spent resting could be used for practicing!”

“Not everyone can survive a twenty-hour day!”

Keonhee and Hwanwoong stared each other down, and it wasn’t until Youngjo cleared his throat when they ceased glaring at each other. Instead, they turned their disapproval toward Youngjo, who’d since finished warming up and offered them a benign smile.

“I get you want us to perfect this, Hwanwoong-ah,” said Youngjo, “but resting is just as important as practicing. If we overwork ourselves, there’s always the chance of injury and, as you pointed out, illness.”

Keonhee probably shouldn’t be, but he was surprised Youngjo was sticking up for him. He’d figured Youngjo would share Hwanwoong’s sentiment in spending their every waking moment to create the best possible performance—especially because this would be his first time performing in front of an audience.

Keonhee paused and pondered for a moment: Why did he assume Youngjo’s never performed in front of an audience? The obvious answer would be because Youngjo was only a SoundCloud artist who couldn’t have obtained any feasible means of performing on a large-scale stage. So how did he pick up so easily on the dance moves? How was he so undaunted by the mere idea of people watching him perform a song he produced?

What if we busked?

Keonhee blinked at the faint memory. When he’d proposed the idea, Youngjo had laughed. He hadn’t refuted, nor had there been any case of anxiety. He was completely at ease with Keonhee’s suggestion, and he was more than willing to contribute what they would perform—he produced an entire song for them. Almost as if it was normal for him.

Keonhee’s head spun as realization struck him, and he blurted out, “You’ve done this before.”

Youngjo and Hwanwoong stared at him, bemused, and it took Keonhee a few seconds to register that they were in the middle of a conversation. He ignored the jolt of embarrassment that scalded his skin as he clarified his sudden announcement: “Busking. You’ve done it before.”

Youngjo and Hwanwoong looked toward each other, and when they shared Siamese expressions of fond disbelief, Keonhee realized he should’ve been quicker on the uptake.

“I wouldn’t have let a noob join our team, Keonhee-ah,” Hwanwoong snickered.

“I’m mostly popular because of my busking,” Youngjo said, and though he was kind enough to repress it, Keonhee could still hear the laughter in his voice.

“It’s been a week, Keonhee!” Hwanwoong howled, now outright laughing at Keonhee’s flustered expression. “I thought you were smarter than this!”

“Well, it’s not like he told me!” Keonhee argued.

“I guess Hwanwoong-ah was wrong about you being quick-witted,” Youngjo sighed, a mock sense of disappointment lilting his tone.

“I am! You guys just aren’t telling me anything!”

“Alright, alright,” Hwanwoong said, clapping his hands together. “Since you have enough energy to argue, we should start practicing before it rains.”

Keonhee gave one last huff before pulling his gaze away from Youngjo’s, which had soon grown soft with either amusement or fondness. It was hard to tell under the sea of dark, ominous clouds.

The first rain droplet landed on Keonhee's nose. Keonhee paused and turned his gaze skyward, and the next one landed in his eye. Youngjo and Hwanwoong didn't stop laughing at his misfortune until the rain became so heavy that the pellets drowned them out. They all sprinted out of the park, Hwanwoong nearly slipping and falling into a slick patch of mud, and Keonhee just barely grabbed him by the arm and saved him from embarrassment.

The wait under the bus stop overhead was dreary and crowded. The rain had soaked through Youngjo, Hwanwoong, and Keonhee's clothes, and Keonhee shivered against the chilling spring wind. He watched as a couple joined the crowd from across the street, and Keonhee and Hwanwoong were pressed into the overhead wall. 

"I'm starting to think we should just rent a studio," Hwanwoong grumbled. He attempted to maneuver himself out from between Youngjo's shoulder and the wall but found little success and eventually gave up. "Keonhee, you're in charge of checking the forecast from now on."

"The clouds were there before we started practicing, Woong-ah," Keonhee muttered, slowly leaning forward until his forehead rested on Hwanwoong's shoulder because he was starting to feel dizzy. "If you just used some common sense...we wouldn't be out here..."

"Well, if Youngjo pitches in—"

"All you had to do was ask, Hwanwoong," Youngjo said, sounding far too eager to fork over his own money to a cause as insignificant as festival preparations. "Although, I'm glad we were able to experience something as romantic as running through the rain together."

"I'd rather do that on a date."

"Well, if you'd stop overworking yourself and fessed up—"

"Not an option."

"Someone might take him away from you, you know."

Keonhee had been lethargic and on the verge of falling asleep on Hwanwoong's shoulder, but he quickly jolted to full consciousness upon Youngjo's comment. "You like someone, Woong-ah?" Just how oblivious was he to not notice his closest friend's infatuation?

Hwanwoong was startled by Keonhee's outburst, and his hand darted out to grab Keonhee's shoulder and steady him. "I was thinking of confessing to him after the festival," Hwanwoong admitted.

"No way! It should be before the festival starts! You'll be all sweaty and gross after busking, which will totally ruin the mood!"

Hwanwoong gave Youngjo a side-way glance, and Keonhee was mildly offended when he noticed the long-suffering look in Hwanwoong's eyes. What was so offensive about Keonhee's advice that Youngjo had to offer Hwanwoong a consolatory pat on the head?

Before Keonhee could pry an answer from either one of them, the bus arrived. The crowd that swelled around them began to move, and lest they be swept away, they hastily followed the flow and boarded the bus. They managed to snatch the seats in the back, though Keonhee wouldn't say he was comfortable; he sat wedged between Youngjo and Hwanwoong's soaked bodies, and the rainwater must have been freezing because Keonhee couldn't qualm the involuntary shivers that plagued his body.

"You should shower first, Keonhee-ah," Youngjo murmured, and Keonhee startled slightly when Youngjo brushed back his bangs and pressed his palm to his forehead. "You're burning up..." He met Keonhee's stunned expression and grinned. "Must've caught my flu."

Youngjo pulled his hand away and carefully fixed Keonhee's wet, matted fringe back into place. His movements were slow, as though if he was too swift, he would frighten Keonhee and send him scuttling away, like some sort of animal.

Ah, Keonhee realized, eyelids closing without his volition, I guess...I'm his prey.

When Keonhee awoke, his body was sore and unmovable. Rather, the moment he attempted to lift his torso from his mattress—when’d he get into bed? When did he get home?—the air got knocked from his lungs from how heavy he felt. So, he collapsed back onto the mattress and closed his eyes so that he didn’t have to look at the ceiling spinning above him.

“Finally awake?”

It was Youngjo, of course. Keonhee doubted Hwanwoong had the time or energy to take care of him while he was sick, so it made sense it was Youngjo. Though Keonhee would admit, he was a bit surprised Dongju wasn’t there, ready to make sure he ate and got plenty of rest.

“Dongju said you should take some medicine before eating.”

Keonhee hummed as he slowly opened his eyes to gaze up at the ceiling. It no longer spun, and, with immense self-will, Keonhee turned his head to face Youngjo, who gazed down at him from the bedside. He had dragged Keonhee’s desk chair over to sit and watch over him, which was odd because Keonhee doubted a fever was worth the hassle of supervision.

“Porridge?” Keonhee guessed. Dongju had made it for Youngjo when he had the flu, and Youngjo yielded no leftovers, so Keonhee was left wondering if Dongju was a competent chef.

“He said it’ll take a few more minutes,” said Youngjo. “Try not to inhale it. Your stomach might not be able to handle your eating habits.”

“I know, Mom.”

“Before you get snappy, can I get some gratitude for carrying you back?”

Keonhee paused and felt the heat in his head grow fiercer with Youngjo’s request. That, and the thought of Youngjo carrying him through the rain like some damsel in distress humiliated him to his very core.

Keonhee struggled for a moment, mostly because the weight of Youngjo’s expectant stare drew the breath from Keonhee’s lungs, but he managed to win over the pressure and mutter quietly, “Thank you.”

A gentle smile grew across Youngjo’s face, as expected, and Keonhee averted his gaze once more to the ceiling. He heard Youngjo stand from the chair and pad across the room. His footsteps were light and delicate, and it wasn’t until when Youngjo returned and gazed down at him with wide, curious eyes that Keonhee realized Youngjo was distinctly...feline.

“Keep frowning like that, Lee Keonhee,” Youngjo whispered as he dragged a fingertip across the corner of Keonhee’s lips, “and you’ll end up looking like a frog.”

Keonhee flinched under Youngjo’s warm breath, and he didn’t have the strength to bat his hand away. Luckily, Youngjo pulled away before Keonhee could combust (from agitation or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure) and turned his head to watch him unbox a bottle of medication.

“It’s cherry flavored,” Youngjo informed.

Keonhee hummed, uninterested.

Youngjo uncapped the bottle and poured the required dosage into the cup. He turned toward Keonhee expectantly, and it took Keonhee a moment to realize he wanted him to sit up. Keonhee tried, once more, to lift himself from the mattress, but was thwarted, once again, by the lead in his limbs.

Youngjo leaned over and placed his hand under Keonhee’s neck, slowly pushing it up, offering Keonhee support. He brought the cup of medicine to Keonhee’s lips, and Keonhee parted them to swallow the artificial tart cherry. Youngjo pulled away, and Keonhee’s face contorted and cringed at the medicine’s aftertaste.

“Oh,” Youngjo exclaimed. “We forgot ice packs.”

Keonhee allowed his head to fall back onto his pillow as he sighed, “It’s fine. I’ll just sleep off the fever.”

Youngjo released a noncommittal hum, and Keonhee fluttered his eyes closed. He expected Youngjo to get up and leave since his job was, essentially, done. Instead, Keonhee jolted when Youngjo asked, “Does it hurt?”

Keonhee peered open an eye to gaze up at Youngjo, who had come significantly closer, practically climbing atop the mattress to meet Keonhee nose-to-nose.

“What—”

Keonhee clamped his mouth closed as Youngjo brushed back his sweaty, matted bangs and brought his lips to the damp skin of his forehead. It was merely a peck, hardly lasting a second, and yet Keonhee felt as though the simple contact had seared him alive.

“Looks like your fever’s getting worse,” Youngjo mused, though when Keonhee met his gaze, there wasn’t a trace of concern within his expression—just amusement. “Eat up and sleep well, Keonhee-ah.”

Keonhee listened to Youngjo’s gentle footsteps pad toward the door, and the door slowly groaned closed behind him, leaving Keonhee alone with the inferno in his lungs.

Keonhee hadn’t caught Youngjo’s flu. It made sense because it’d been nearly two weeks since Youngjo’s recovery, but Keonhee wouldn’t be surprised if Youngjo had willed his illness upon him just for the hell of it. 

Anyway, Keonhee made a full recovery from his cold two days later, and nobody was any the wiser of Youngjo’s inexplicable affection. Keonhee was glad Youngjo wasn’t going around telling their housemates he’d made good on his threat. Though, now that he thought about it, Youngjo must’ve not informed them at all about their shortage of ice packs and their consequential, one-sided promise because there was a distinct lack of teasing and grinning whenever Keonhee ran into one of them. Keonhee wasn’t sure if it was a blessing so much as a curse: He alone was burdened with the knowledge that Youngjo was all too willing to drown him in affection if he showed the slightest hint of discomfort. It might’ve been reassuring if that affection came from literally anyone else, but, alas, Keonhee was not fortunate enough for luck to be on his side.

When they arrived at the studio Youngjo and Hwanwoong had been practicing in during Keonhee’s bedrest, Keonhee immediately longed for the familiar scenery of the park: The studio was white and blank, and not even the scuff marks Keonhee was certain Youngjo and Hwanwoong had left during their last session could permeate their inherent need to keep their surroundings clean after occupation. It was odd and discomforting, though Keonhee imagined the feeling was only exasperated because he had too much built-up energy. He just needed to get used to it quickly and allow his body the time to relearn the choreography.

“Think you can start singing today?” Hwanwoong questioned.

Keonhee had a sore throat that morning, yet, when faced with the adversity of essentially starting from square one, he found that his body was all too willing to heed his command of “work with me”. Keonhee sang one of his lines, and when his voice didn’t waver, crack, or go out of tune, Hwanwoong offered him an eager grin.

“Glad to have you back, Keonhee-ah.”

“Was my company not satisfactory?” Youngjo teased.

“When you act like that, no.”

“You see where I’m coming from, now?” Keonhee sighed.

“You seemed to enjoy being around me plenty while you were sick,” said Youngjo.

“I was asleep most of the time, genius.”

“And what an angel you were.”

Keonhee made a distressed noise at the same time Hwanwoong blasted their song through the studio’s speakers.

“Oh,” Keonhee said weakly. “Surround sound.”

Youngjo merely offered an amused grin, and Hwanwoong was barking at them to get into their positions before Keonhee could regain the breath he’d lost. 

Hwanwoong didn’t have to re-teach Keonhee any of the moves because he miraculously remembered them. His body had been well trained to move practically on instinct to the beats of the music. Keonhee reckoned it was an evolutionary skill his body had gained if only to survive Hwanwoong’s demands for perfection, and to save himself from grief, he saved every choreo Hwanwoong had taught him to the deepest recesses of his mind.

That said, Keonhee’s stamina was shot, and it was going to be a while before he grabbed hold of his breath.

“We’d only ran through it twice,” Hwanwoong bemoaned.

“Yeah, well,” Keonhee gasped, “I can’t breathe.”

“Remember what I said about resting, Hwanwoong-ah?” Youngjo said.

Hwanwoong’s expression briefly crumbled into a grimace, and when he turned to meet Keonhee’s desperate gaze, he finally relented with a sigh.

“Water break,” Hwanwoong announced before leaving the studio with his water bottle in hand.

Keonhee collapsed to the floor, and Youngjo gazed down at him with gentle eyes.

“Make sure to pace yourself,” Youngjo said. “We still have until next week. It wouldn’t be good if you pushed yourself too hard.”

“Tell Woong-ah that,” Keonhee sighed as he tossed his arm over his eyes, blocking out the obnoxious LED overhead lights. “He’s been working both his jobs this entire time; he’s going to burn out at this rate.”

“And yet you won’t tell him to slow down.”

“He won’t listen to me. He never does…”

There was a pause, and Keonhee listened as Youngjo’s sneakers squeaked against the floorboards before a soft thump forewarned Keonhee that Youngjo had joined him on the floor.

“He listens to you plenty, Keonhee-ah,” Youngjo whispered, much closer than Keonhee had been anticipating. “Your suggestion is the whole reason he’s doing this.”

“Yeah, but it was only a suggestion,” Keonhee argued, refusing to unguard his vision. “If he was too busy, he could’ve just told me we had to do something else. I don’t get why he can’t tell me that he can’t do something.”

“Well, that would be admitting a weakness.”

“So? Who cares? We’ve known each other since high school! We know plenty about each other! What’s one little weakness gonna do? Ruin our friendship?”

Keonhee flinched when he felt Youngjo’s hand rest on his arm, and after a moment of hesitation, surrendered and let his arm fall from his face. The overhead lights blinded him for a moment, but when he blinked and squinted his eyes, Youngjo’s face came into view, very nearly taking up his entire vision.

“You may not think much of it,” Youngjo murmured, “but Hwanwoong doesn’t want to show the slightest hint of weakness toward you.”

Keonhee stared into Youngjo’s earnest eyes and allowed his confession to sink in. It didn’t sound right, though. Hwanwoong had shown him plenty of his faults and weaknesses throughout their years of knowing each other, so why would he suddenly grow conscious enough to want them to appear invisible in front of Keonhee? It didn’t make sense; it didn’t sound like Hwanwoong.

“But—”

Keonhee was interrupted by the door opening, and Youngjo and Keonhee turned their heads toward a visibly stunned Hwanwoong. Noticing their compromising position, Keonhee lifted himself from the floor and firmly ignored the heat of Youngjo’s gaze on him.

“Woong-ah,” Keonhee said resolutely. “I don’t want you pushing yourself like this any more.”

Hwanwoong blinked, seemingly snapping out of his stupor, and regarded Keonhee with slight bewilderment.

“What—”

“You’re constantly working,” Keonhee interrupted, not giving Hwanwoong the chance to respond lest he defended his actions. “You never give yourself the time to sleep or do anything relaxing! When you’re not practicing with us, you’re working one of your jobs or studying for one of your classes! Why don’t you take Youngjo’s advice and let yourself rest?”

Hwanwoong’s mouth clamped closed as his wide, wide eyes slowly blinked and darted down to, presumably, meet Youngjo’s stare. Keonhee didn’t let himself give in to the curiosity and kept his eyes resolutely on Hwanwoong. Whatever response Youngjo gave him, it was enough to have Hwanwoong meeting Keonhee’s gaze once more with a yielding grin.

“Okay,” Hwanwoong said.

Keonhee blinked, looked toward Youngjo, received a grin and a nod, and turned back toward Hwanwoong. “Okay? Okay what?”

“I’ll rest,” Hwanwoong clarified. “During the weekend, I’ll take a break from work and won’t practice with you guys. But don’t go thinking you can skimp out on practice, okay?”

Keonhee took another second to process what Hwanwoong was telling him, and before he could stop himself, he ran up and embraced Hwanwoong. “I won’t skip practice!” Keonhee promised as he squeezed Hwanwoong tightly in his arms. “And, I swear, if I see you in the library or restaurant—”

“You won’t, I promise,” Hwanwoong laughed, and Keonhee believed him when his arms returned the embrace.

Keonhee pulled away after a few moments and pointed to the door. “Now, go home and sleep.”

“Keonhee, I said during the weekend—”

“It’s Friday! It’s practically already the weekend! Go home!”

Hwanwoong looked gobsmacked by Keonhee’s assertiveness, and not even the pleading glance toward Youngjo could save him; Keonhee saw from the side mirror Youngjo merely shake his head at Hwanwoong’s silent cry for help. Faced with total opposition, Hwanwoong relented and finally turned toward the door. He gave Youngjo and Keonhee one last warning on not slacking off during their practice and, just before he shut the door, said, “Don’t waste any more time on flirting.”

He slammed the door shut before Keonhee’s cry of shock could fully reach him. Keonhee huffed and turned toward Youngjo, who’d since stood from the floor and was fiddling with the speakers.

“First, he says we have ‘bad blood’, and now we’re flirting?” Keonhee said, aghast. 

“Who’s ‘we’?” Youngjo scoffed.

“Exactly! I don’t see how—”

“I’m the only one pulling my weight here.”

Keonhee stopped and stared at Youngjo. His back was turned to Keonhee, and Keonhee, possibly for the first time, couldn’t imagine what kind of expression Youngjo was making. His comment was loaded, and Keonhee wasn’t sure what to make of it if Youngjo didn’t give him any clues as to what he thought like he always did.

“What...do you mean?” Keonhee asked.

Youngjo kept his back to Keonhee, and after a few seconds, Keonhee’s sickeningly familiar beginning lines filtered through the speakers, drowning out the pounding in Keonhee’s ears.

“Let’s practice,” Youngjo announced.

And practice they did.

Keonhee wasn't oblivious. Whatever fog had been placed over his head for the past month had cleared, and now all the signs were glaringly obvious: Youngjo had been flirting with him. Not antagonizing him, and, sure, there was certainly some teasing, it was primarily in good faith and wasn't actively committed for the sole purpose of driving Keonhee insane. Alright, maybe not primarily, but Youngjo wasn't the villain Keonhee had been painting in his head. He was just…

Keonhee pressed his palms to his burning face in a vain attempt to hide his embarrassment from the subject of his mortification. Youngjo was kind enough to pretend he couldn't see the flush welting his skin.

"You keep messing up at this part," Youngjo said for perhaps the fifth time that hour.

"I know," Keonhee whined.

Youngjo and Keonhee had a partnered choreography. They're together briefly for a mock ballroom dance that lasted for the entirety of Hwanwoong's five-second line, but Keonhee couldn't stand being near Youngjo for a mere second. With the knowledge that Youngjo had had romantic intent toward him from possibly the beginning, Keonhee couldn't assume a form of normality—especially without Hwanwoong there to be the buffer between them. Perhaps that would be even worse since he somehow knew about Youngjo's advancements before even Keonhee did.

"Let's take a break," Youngjo sighed.

Keonhee snatched his hands away from Youngjo all too hastily, and Youngjo paused the song once more. They stood in a stilted silence that Keonhee couldn't muster the courage to break. It was funny if he thought about it because Youngjo seemed to be the only person who got him to shut his mouth and listen. Yet, despite the clear opening, Youngjo didn't take advantage of it. Instead, he offered a benign, "Wanna go to the park?" Keonhee was all too eager to agree because anywhere was better than the empty, silent studio they subjected themselves to. 

The walk was quiet save for the surrounding foot and mobile traffic and the faint whispers of nature that greeted them as they neared the park. The park itself was just as underpopulated as it always was, and Keonhee was mildly surprised because he was certain that the weekend would attract more visitors. However, as they approached the all too familiar bench, Keonhee could only spot a few families speckled across the grass for some late afternoon picnics.

Keonhee slumped into the bench, and Youngjo joined him. They sat in silence and watched the world go by around them. Perhaps it was a bit irresponsible of them since Keonhee promised Hwanwoong he wouldn't slack off, but, honestly, he needed this: the open, blue sky free to watch and marvel at; the river gently carrying fallen blossoms and petals; and the wind caressing Keonhee's face.

A camera shutter went off, and Keonhee marveled at how he didn't immediately jump. "Saw another flower?" he asked.

Youngjo was slow to respond. Maybe Keonhee had finally stunned him with his supposed "quick-wit". 

"Yeah," Youngjo said. "Can you see it now?"

Keonhee grew a wry grin. He wasn't sure how to respond because the question was absurd—the situation was absurd. If Youngjo hadn't talked in riddles and metaphors, maybe Keonhee would've understood him sooner.

Well, too late for that.

"I'm not sure," Keonhee answered, and he forced himself to turn and meet Youngjo's gaze. "Would you mind showing it to me?"

If Youngjo was surprised, he didn't show it. He held Keonhee's gaze for a few seconds more, perhaps to try and understand his intent, only to relent and place his camera back into his bag. He stood from the bench, and when he offered his hand toward Keonhee, Keonhee took it.

"Just like we practiced," Youngjo said. He clasped his left hand with Keonhee's right and placed his right against Keonhee's waist. His fingers curled within the material of Keonhee's shirt, and Keonhee kept his gaze resolute to his left hand, which held Youngjo's shoulder in a vice grip. "Five, six, seven, eight..."

Youngjo began to move, and Keonhee followed. The steps were just like what they practiced, and it was familiar, too, because they were finally back on the uneven ground of the park. It held a sense of comfort for Keonhee to feel the lengthier grass blades whisper against his ankles, to have the ground waver and relent to their steps from a bygone day of rain.

Youngjo kept count, and Keonhee imagined the songbirds were singing for them. 

When their footprints stained and parted the grass blades, they stopped. Keonhee heaved a breath because although that was the least exhausting part of the choreography, he found his heart was racing.

"You did good," Youngjo said. "Perfect, even."

Keonhee flushed at the praise, and he hastily averted his gaze to the bench. However, he stopped short when he noticed something peculiar peeking out from beneath. He bent his torso low and reached toward the object, and when he pulled out a crown of wilted flowers, Youngjo let out an appreciative hum.

"So it was still here," he mused.

"Too bad the flowers didn't last," Keonhee said as he brushed his finger against a wilted petal. "They were pretty."

"I'm sure if you wear it they'll still look beautiful."

Keonhee was wholly unprepared for Youngjo's flirting and, in an attempt to get him to shut up, hastily placed the flower crown atop Youngjo's head. Youngjo went frighteningly still, his eyes wide with wild disbelief, and Keonhee wasn't surprised by how gorgeous he looked: the wilted buds kissed his curls, and the faint dewdrops sparkled beneath the sunlight like stars.

"Ah," Youngjo exclaimed, surprise now wiped from his face as a familiar smile emerged. "There it is."

Keonhee knew what Youngjo was referring to, but he couldn't have possibly found the flower when Keonhee was looking right at it.

Sunday was mundane. Youngjo and Keonhee could do some decent practice without an escapade to the park, so Youngjo rewarded them with hot pot. It was comforting, familiar, even, and Keonhee relished in the peace that had settled between them.

Hwanwoong returned on Monday.

"The festival's Wednesday, so I hope you're ready," he warned.

Keonhee couldn't say anything back because the best possible way to prove he'd kept his promise to Hwanwoong was to show it. Youngjo gave his hand a quick squeeze while Hwanwoong's back was turned, and Keonhee felt the tension in his shoulders melt away.

The song started, and they began the full run-through. They sang and danced, and Keonhee made sure to make his staged smile extra wide during his paired dance with Youngjo. Youngjo returned it, and it felt like spring had blossomed inside Keonhee.

When the song's final chords rang out, Keonhee kept the ending pose until the song looped. Even then, he didn't collapse to the floor and stood still, waiting expectantly for Hwanwoong's review. Hwanwoong took a moment to regain his breath before facing Keonhee. Keonhee waited, hopeful and just a tad terrified, and sank to the floor in relief when Hwanwoong said, "You've gotten better."

"Keonhee!"

"Hold on! I'm almost done!"

"You said that ten minutes ago! Hurry up, we need to go—now!"

Keonhee huffed and grabbed the finished flower crowns as he attempted to finish the last one as he walked toward his door. He didn't even manage to get his hand on the doorknob before the door swung open, revealing an agitated Hwanwoong. 

"That one mine?" Hwanwoong asked as he pointed out the tiger lily flower crown. 

"Yeah." Keonhee handed the crown over to Hwanwoong, and Hwanwoong grabbed his wrist and dragged him down the hallway. "Where's Youngjo? I need to give him his."

"He's already at the busking spot. He needed to set up camp there before anyone else could take it from us."

"He's really experienced, huh…"

Hwanwoong merely scoffed at Keonhee's simple musing, and Keonhee didn't have the energy nor focus to feel embarrassed. He still needed to finish his flower crown, and Hwanwoong dragging him down the stairwell and out into the busy, crowded sidewalk was not helping him.

"Woong-ah, slow down—"

"There he is!" Hwanwoong shouted, using the hand that held his flower crown to point out Youngjo attempting to scout them out in the crowd.

"Don't go tossing that around!"

"If you didn't make them sturdy enough to handle a little shaking, then they're not gonna last on stage!"

"I was more worried about you throwing it into the crowd—"

"I'm not that clumsy!"

They bickered and argued their way toward Youngjo, and they were only interrupted when Youngjo called out their names and beckoned them over. They squeezed through the swelling crowd, clearly curious about their performance. Or, perhaps more likely, excited to see Youngjo.

"How's it feel to be popular?" Keonhee asked as he handed Youngjo his crown of roses. 

"I should be asking you the same thing," Youngjo chuckled as he placed the crown atop his head. "Gimme that."

He snatched Keonhee's crown from his hands and set to work. Keonhee was nearly finished with only a few loose vines the might've threatened to get tangled in his hair, but Keonhee wasn't one to turn down free labor.

"Anemone, huh?" Youngjo mused.

"I figured the source of inspiration deserved a chance in the spotlight," said Keonhee, though he couldn't find it in himself to meet Youngjo's knowing eyes as he said that. He was startled when Youngjo placed the crown atop his head, and the surrounding crowd made a commotion. "Your fans might get jealous," he teased.

"Let them," Youngjo said.

It was so simple and resolute that Keonhee couldn't conjure up an argument. He sat still and compliant as Youngjo secured the crown to make sure it wouldn't go flying off mid-performance, and when he was satisfied with his handiwork, he parted Keonhee's carefully styled bangs, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Keonhee's forehead.

Ignoring the shrill crowd and the flames in his cheeks, Keonhee stared at Youngjo and said, "I'm not hurt."

Youngjo grinned, self-satisfied. "I know."

"Guys!" Hwanwoong shouted, approaching them with microphones in his hands. "Stop provoking the fans! We've got a song to perform!"

Keonhee took the microphone handed to him, and he just barely managed to grab onto Hwanwoong's wrist. "Wait! Did you end up confessing to that guy you like?"

Hwanwoong's back was turned toward him, so he couldn't see what expression he was making, but the slight tremble of his arm was all too telling.

"No," Hwanwoong said as he turned toward Keonhee with a wry grin. "I never stood a chance."

Keonhee was dismayed by Hwanwoong's easy-going tone that accompanied the confession, but he was distracted by Youngjo dragging him to the center of the improv stage he'd managed to set up. It was really only a small space between them and the crowd, but it should've been enough space for them to perform without injuring anyone.

"I'm surprised you're not nervous," Youngjo commented.

“Oh, I am,” Keonhee replied. "But it's nothing that I'm not already used to."

"Hug Me prepared you, huh?"

"Along with the other mortifying ordeals Hwanwoong put me through."

"I'm not so sure about that. You do a good job of sitting there and looking pretty."

Deja vu settled within Keonhee as he muttered, "You're awfully presumptuous."

"It's not a presumption if I've got physical proof."

Keonhee whipped his head toward Youngjo just as Hwanwoong began talking up the crowd through his microphone. Keonhee had to set aside his own bewilderment to address the fans and curious onlookers with the commentary he had prepared the night before. He recognized a few of his classmates and their housemates in the crowd, and he felt reassured that he would do well. After all, if he didn't, his friends would never let him live it down.

"...And a special thanks to Youngjo," Keonhee said, glancing and smiling at Youngjo as he said so, "for producing this song for us on such short notice."

Youngjo lifted his microphone to his lips, and his eyes were soft as he said, "Anything for you, Keonhee-ah."

"Alright!" Hwanwoong announced over the cooing crowd and Keonhee's unflattering noise of panic. "We're going to start the performance, so please step back so that no injuries occur!"

Keonhee got into position and attempted to distract himself from the heat swelling within his head by listening to the curious muttering and chattering surrounding him, focusing on the quiet anticipation the crowd held and prayed he could meet them—hell, maybe even exceed them.

The speakers crackled to life, and Keonhee was only offered a mere second to bring his microphone to his lips and sing the opening lines. He still held some grievances toward Youngjo for his directing because he could have offered at least some sort of lead-up. At least then, all the pressure wouldn't be put onto Keonhee to keep the beat.

But, as Youngjo slid in front of him to croon his lines, seeing the adoring look in his eyes as he gazed out across the crowd, Keonhee couldn't find it in himself to be so petty.

The performance went as they practiced, and though Keonhee's skin still burned as he danced with Youngjo, he pushed on and made absolutely sure the audience would see how much time and effort they put into their insignificant, joyous festival presentation. When the song's final chords reverberated around them, they maintained their ending poses and embraced the onslaught of applause and praise. Keonhee, gasping and panting, immediately turned toward Youngjo, ready to revel in the glory of their success, but his breath was stolen away when Youngjo's face swooped in close and pressed their lips together.

The sun had set, and though the excitement had died down, the campus was still celebrating the festival. It would go on for another couple of hours, but when Keonhee had suggested they visit the other students' stands, Hwanwoong had opted out with the excuse of, "I need to sleep, Keonhee-ah." Keonhee was a bit disappointed because he wanted to reward Hwanwoong's efforts with festival foods, games, and gifts, but he also didn't want Hwanwoong to pass out in the middle of the campus courtyard, so he and Youngjo bid him goodnight.

"I'll save him some food," Keonhee said as he ordered three servings of mul naengmyeon. "You're gonna have to help me keep the other guys from eating it."

"I'm more worried about you," Youngjo teased.

Keonhee pouted, but before he could refute, their bowls were served. Keonhee handed over the cash and grabbed his and Hwanwoong's bowl. Youngjo took his serving, and they bid the students running the stand farewell, receiving a shout from the back, "I liked your performance!"

"How do you handle your fame?" Keonhee sighed. Though he was mostly feigning exhaustion (because they had been hounded after and praised the entire day), he was glad their performance had resonated so well. If it ended up being another source of failure for Keonhee, he would've quit any and all future festival activities if only to save face.

Youngjo hummed thoughtfully, and in the time it took for him to conjure up an answer, Keonhee had found a spot underneath a tree for them to eat. 

"I just live my life," Youngjo said. "I'm not famous enough to have any real die-hard fans who'll go out of their way to meet me, so I take the appreciation and gratitude sent my way and try to give back to my fans by making better music."

"A humble SoundCloud artist, huh," Keonhee murmured, pulling apart his chopsticks. "I'm glad you don't treat your fans like you treat me."

"Why? Because you'd get jealous?"

"Jealous of you getting reported for harassment?"

Youngjo scoffed, and Keonhee turned toward him curiously. "You never asked, y'know."

"Asked what?"

"About the proof."

Keonhee blinked. In all honesty, he'd forgotten. He'd been so caught up in busking, taking song requests, and ignoring whatever had been going on between him and Youngjo to really think about the implication of Youngjo's familiar words: You do a good job of sitting there and looking pretty. 

"Are you stalking me?" Keonhee asked, mildly disturbed.

"No, nothing like that," Youngjo assured. He placed his bowl beside himself and pulled out his camera from his bag. "During the autumn festival last year, I was taking photos of the different stands and activities to help build my profile, and I came across a certain makeup stand…"

Keonhee felt dread coil deep within his gut, and he leaned over Youngjo's shoulder as he scrolled through his camera gallery. There were photos of students enjoying and celebrating the autumn festival, and Keonhee physically cringed away when Youngjo finally came across an all too familiar sight: Keonhee being made up by both Hwanwoong and Dongju. Youngjo had captured that particular moment in the early stages of the styling, and Keonhee was fortunate enough to not be forced to see himself with comically rosy cheeks and bright red lips. 

"When Dongju is actually serious about it," Youngjo said, "he makes a fantastic makeup artist."

"He was going to, but then Hwanwoong suddenly told him to not make me look so pretty," Keonhee huffed. "Something about making customers 'envious'."

"Well, there aren't many that can look as good in makeup as you did."

Keonhee's face felt hot, and he ended up blurting out, "Is that when you fell in love with me?"

Youngjo paused, and Keonhee watched as he slowly set the camera aside. He jolted and darted his eyes to meet Youngjo's when Youngjo suddenly turned toward him, and he wasn't all that surprised to notice a smile had blossomed across Youngjo's face.

"What would you say if I said yes?" Youngjo whispered, his breath fanning across Keonhee's face.

Keonhee shuddered and leaned into the palm Youngjo cupped around his face. "I'd say that's a pretty stupid reason to fall in love with somebody…"

"And…?" Youngjo prompted, noticing Keonhee's trailing gaze.

"And...I guess I'm no better."

Youngjo laughed, hearty and mellow, and Keonhee hastily silenced him with his eager, desperate lips. Youngjo sighed into the kiss, and Keonhee melted under his wandering hands. Their flower crowns fell to the ground as their fingers curled through each other's hair, and Keonhee briefly worried they'd lose them.

But Youngjo quickly pulled him back into the moment, and Keonhee enjoyed every second of it.