Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What I’m saying is that this is not good.”

Min furrows his eyebrows. “How? I write my opinion! Anyone can have any opinion on his performances and music overall. I just have my own! That’s why it’s a critique.”

Stephen pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep inhale of air. “Yes. I know that. Let me ask you a question, Mr. Park. Do you know just how fast he’s rising? How much traction he’s receiving?”

“That never contributes to what I write.” Min doesn’t answer the question. He knows it’s a lot, though. He sees his songs rising up on the charts extraordinarily fast. “I just write my honest opinion about it. Anyone is allowed to disagree.”

“Yes, sure.” Stephen dismisses, looking through papers. “It was fine when their army of fans weren’t taking all their disagreements to every single platform.”

Okay, he saw that, but he’s not going to lie about what he thought about the album. That’s what he does. He writes honestly — and he doesn’t write to please music superfans.

Stephen speaks again, “I don’t care about your morals, or your honesty. Right now I need damage control, and so does NAT Prospect.”

“Damage control? It was one critique!”

“Yes, it was.” he quickly replies through gritted teeth. “A critique that’s giving us a lot of backlash right now. You have no say in this anymore.”

He picks up the phone and Min stays silent.

In walks Phoebe, the intern and the only person Min is particularly close to.

“Oh, hi Min.” she smiles sheepishly and waves. “So… regarding the critique.”

She sets down a coffee on Stephen’s desk and looks down at her clipboard.

“Well, it’s not all bad, really.” she reassures before explaining what the ‘damage control’ consists of. “His manager called back and said she’d love to arrange the… tour thing?”

Stephen laughs in delight and clasps his hands together. “Perfect! The entirety or…”

“She told me their schedule is open, they have room. Of course it’ll be hectic because of… tour stuff. I’m sorry, what is the plan here exactly?”

He’s not sure if she asked because she herself was confused or if she saw the confused look on his own face. He’s glad she asked either way.

“Oh, excuse me.” he turns to look at Min. “You’ll be writing an article while on tour. With Ryan Akagi, of course.”

Min sighs. He knows he has no choice.

Stephen cracks his knuckles. Phoebe shoots him a sympathetic smile, and Min shrugs in return.

His critique was bound to set some fans off, he just didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. He’s written hundreds of critiques since he started writing under the pseudonym NAT Prospect — and he didn’t expect it to get… so big. So big that he’s now working at CBC Radio, listening to music, watching performances and writing critiques about it. For a living, he’s making money off of what was just supposed to be a guilty pleasure hobby he did in his free time.

“Of course we’re doing this for your benefit.” Stephen continues, speaking smugly. The tone makes Min want to pull his hair out, but he refrains, he keeps smiling fakely. It reminds him of when he used to work at Dumpty’s. At least Stephen pronounces his name right. “We’re mending our relationship with not only Ryan Akagi himself — the artist you wrote a particularly brutal critique of — but with the viewers. I don’t know if you understand this, but the viewers aren’t going to want to read NAT Prospect’s critiques anymore if you keep writing… whatever that was.”

“It was a critique. An honest one. I just don’t like his music.”

“Yeah. I know. I read your critique. Pretty brutal.” He replies bluntly.

He wasn’t wrong. Min picked apart his music bit by bit, dissected it and inspected it under a hypothetical microscope, burned it and then drowned it before ringing it out and spitting out a critique of Ryan Akagi’s debut album, My Oeuvre. It was brutal, more brutal than his other critiques — and a lot of them were.

Akagi goes on to write the lyrics ‘and she’s dazzling, like a shiny bell’ and, to be quite frank, it makes absolutely no sense. There’s nothing that makes sense of most of Akagi’s lyrics written in ‘My Oeuvre.’ Maybe he should step away from rhymes and take a step back into the real world.

Yeah, he knows. It’s brutal. Maybe he didn’t have to be so brutal, but he felt it was needed to get his point across. He guesses it came across well, a bit too well.

“Look, maybe you will after you hear his gigs in person, analyze the lyrics, listen to him live. Maybe you’ll get to know that personality of his.”

Min can tell Stephen doesn’t care, he just wants to keep the money he gets from NAT Prospect’s — also known as him, but no one knows that except for the people in the room — critiques, and if that means him befriending a rising artist whose music he doesn’t like, then so be it. Not really the best deal for him, though.

“So, you’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow.”

“What?” Min speaks finally. He’s not really good at dealing with last minute things. He’s more of the type to plan in advance — which is probably why Stephen never asks him to attend live and in-person shows. “How long am I supposed to be gone for?”

“Across Canada and parts of the East Coast. I’d say no longer than a few months, which should hopefully be enough time for you to write an interesting piece about musical sensation Ryan Akagi.”

Min sighs and gets up. Stephen smiles tightly, a mixture of smugness and frustration. “When I see you again, hopefully you’ll be able to make sense of that kid’s lyrics.”

He cringes, and Phoebe follows him out of the room, closing the door from behind her.

“Here’s some paperwork.” she says softly. “It’s just protocol, you also get a pretty nice hotel.”

He takes the papers from her hands.

“One of the protocols being that no one is going to out you as NAT Prospect, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Thanks.” he replies before quickly asking something else, “Was my critique brutal? Like, more brutal than usual?”

Phoebe shrugs and makes a face, like she’s not sure whether to sugarcoat the truth or not.

“It was… well,” she sighs before speaking again. “Yeah? Kind of? You got a problem with Ryan Akagi?”

“No!” Min says quickly. He doesn’t.

“Wait, you got some personal baggage with him? Was he the one who went to that Humpty Dumpty restaurant and kept complaining about the potatoes?”

“What? Why would he have been at Dumpty’s?”

“He’s from your hometown, isn’t he? Was he your childhood best friend? Big fallout?”

“What? No!” Min furrows his eyebrows. “I didn’t know he was from Powell Lake, anyway. Besides, I don’t have a problem with him, just his music.”

Phoebe raises her eyebrows in suspicion. Min stays silent, but shrugs.

. . .

NAT Prospect was only supposed to stay a dumb hobby that kept Min sane while he was silently having the worst time of his life. It was always keep your grades up, get a job, go to uni, study something professional! He barely convinced his parents to let him get piano lessons — they only complied when he promised to learn Beethoven and Motzart.

He understood why they wanted him to study profusely. They just wanted him to succeed and have a steady life, he can’t blame them for wanting that. It’s just… what they wanted has never been what he wanted.

Which is why he started up his whole music critiquing blog under the pseudonym NAT Prospect — more like N.A.T Prospect, really, since it stands for Nevsky and the Prospect(s), a band name for a band that he never got to start.

He didn’t expect it to get so much traction, it was just a way for him to get out his fascination with analyzing music, and music in general.

Then, after he got home from another shitty shift at the infamous Humpty Dumpty themed restaurant, he received an email, from CBC Radio.

Of course he took the job offer, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. For once in his life he felt like he had a choice, and not one like finance or engineering?, no, like a real choice of his own happiness versus his parents. And after working at Dumpty’s for three months too long, of course he didn’t choose the latter.

He tried to keep it a secret for a while, and when he had to fly to Toronto for the ‘official interview’ — all expenses paid by CBC Radio, since they really wanted him to come for a lot of reasons he couldn’t believe — he lied and said it was for uni. He’s not really sure how they believed it and, looking back, he’s not sure they really did.

It was a one time opportunity! Of course he felt bad about lying, but what was he to do? Who can really blame him for being nervous? He delayed even mentioning any part of it to his parents until he actually landed the job and had to move halfway across Canada to work there. Worry ran through his entire body, but excitement was there, too — something he wasn’t sure he ever truly felt before.

They were more worried about his well-being than anything else. He could tell they were scared for him to start working a job in a pretty risky field. But, he did know that they wanted him to be happy, and he finally got the guts to tell them that studying finance wasn’t going to contribute into making him feel that way.

So, a grueling conversation — which wasn’t really grueling, the conversation itself wasn’t, at least. The anticipating was another story. — and a flight later, he was officially an employee at CBC Radio. It was… surreal at the time, and it still is for him, it’s hard to grasp. What used to just be a small anonymous blog for him to dump all of his opinions on music has now turned him into one of the most popular critics. Everyone awaits for the famous NAT Prospect to give their two cents on an album, and he’s NAT Prospect, which means everyone awaits for his opinion on an album. He’s not sure anyone’s cared this much about his opinion on anything, really.

Is it odd that everyone awaits for his two cents on music but no one actually knows it’s his? It kind of is when looking at it from a different point of view, but he’s anonymous for a reason. He’s not sure how much would change if people knew Min-Gi Park, just some nobody from a small town in BC, is one of the most popular music critics out there, and he doesn’t want to know. He’s fine being anonymous.

. . .

“And how much sleep did you get exactly?”

Min groans as he sits in the airport. He’s way ahead of schedule despite only having a day to prepare just about everything about this trip. It’s a nightmare.

“Not enough.”

Phoebe laughs, “I’m sorry.” is all she says.

“You should be.” he groans. It’s partly a joke, but Phoebe did know about some parts of Stephen’s plan, so he’s rightfully upset! — kind of. “This is a nightmare.”

She makes a sympathetic sound that he can barely pick up on through the receiver.

“I’m sorry.” she says again. “I can clean up your apartment if you want me to. I’ll make room in your closet for some Ryan Akagi merch?”

Another groan comes from him. It’s all he can do right now anyways, he’s tired and stressed.

“I don’t know how I’m going to become friends with a musician whose music I don’t like.”

“It shouldn’t be too hard! Just discard his music and try to like his personality?”

Min stays silent. He feels guilty for making his critique so… brutal. Sure, he’s usually brutal, so it’s nothing new. Except it is. He almost liked being so brutal towards Ryan Akagi’s debut album, and he can’t pinpoint why he wanted to be especially brutal towards him. Maybe it’s the fact that he wears bright red glasses like it’s still the eighties.

Phoebe picks up on his silence.

“I’m pretty sure they’re okay with you.” she reassures him. “I don’t think they would’ve accepted the offer for you to go on tour with them if they had a grudge against you because of your critique.”

Min sighs, “I guess.”

Before he can say anything else, there’s an announcement. Time for boarding.

“It’ll be fine.” Phoebe speaks again. “If he’s a dick I’m sure you can make room for that in the article you’re writing about him.”

Min yawns as he finds his place in line, his shoulder keeping his phone held up to his ear.

“Okay.” he exhales. “I guess I’ll see what happens.”

“I’ll hear from you after the flight, then!”

“What?” he asks. “Did I say that?’”

“No,” she replies. “I just figured you’d call me before you have to meet the guy who wrote your least favorite album.”

“Okay, well, it’s not my least favorite album.”

He can’t see her, but he knows she raised her eyebrows, “Oh really?”

“Yeah, yeah.” he dismisses. “I’m getting on the plane soon so I’m hanging up now.”

“Hear from you later!” she says quickly before he ends the call.

. . .

“Gave up that easily?” Phoebe answers quickly. She was expecting his call, obviously.

“I just put my stuff down and found a note on the hotel notepad.”

“Oh?” she questions. “Do you have, like, a stalker or something? A secret admirer? Both?”

“It’s from Stephen, so no.” Min replies, still staring down at what’s written down. It’s obviously not written by him, but definitely requested by him. “It does seem slightly stalker-ish so maybe?”

“Can’t escape that man.” she replies. “What’s it say?”

“I thought you would’ve already known.”

“What?” she laughs like he made a funny joke. “That man never tells me anything. I don’t even know his coffee order because he changes it every single week. That man is all over the place. Now, come on!”

“Okay,” he replies before reading the words on the paper. “‘Hope you understand by the end!’ and then under that, in parentheses, it says ‘By that I mean you should understand if you want your article to do enough repairs.’ Why is he so… ominous? Also why is he taking the one line I wrote about how none of his lyrics make sense and running with it?”

“I think he’s having a good time with this.” she laughs again.

“He is a nightmare.”

“I know, I know! He’s an absolute terror but what are we do about it?” she pauses. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be… meeting Akagi and his manager?”

His eyes widen as he looks at the clock. He has to be downstairs in ten minutes, and he’s not really one to like being late. He doesn’t even know the name of Ryan’s manager, though. He is not prepared in the slightest despite getting less than four hours of sleep.

“Who’s his manager?” he asks as he gets up to walk out of his hotel room. “No one ever told me her name.”

“Kez!” Phoebe replies. “She’s nice. I’m surprised she’s a manager, though. She’s a bit… out there.”

“Should I be worried?” he’s already worried, but he’s trying to organize his worries.

“Uh… no? She’s nice. I don’t think you need to worry about her.” she reassures him again. Maybe he should reorganize himself since he keeps having to be reassured of something. “Look, just take a deep breath. You’ll be on tour with these people for a few months, and in return so will they. I’m sure they’ll be civil.”

“Okay, sure, yeah.” he does take a deep breath. He’s still worried — he’s always worried, though.

“I’m hanging up now.” she says. “I’m not going to be the one responsible for keeping you away enough to be late.”

And hang up she does, so he steps in the elevator alone. Just waiting.

He’s nervous about a lot of things. For one, he’s not necessarily that good with meeting new people. Also, they’re aware that he’s NAT Prospect, so it’s kind of weird being around more people who are aware that he’s the one who is the famous anonymous music critic. He’s comfortable with the anonymity of writing his critiques under a pseudonym, with having no one else but some of his coworkers be aware of who’s actually behind it. It makes him feel less in the spotlight, less seen. He thinks it would be weird having it any other way.

When the elevator doors open, he takes another deep breath as he steps off. Stephen usually liked how brutally honest his critiques were, and he made a point to say so exactly nine times when they first met. He guesses his brutality has thrown him a bit too far.

There’s a girl at the front desk when he turns the corner to the lobby. She’s saying… something. He’s not sure what — it’s a combination of being too far enough to hear, and also the girl making absolutely no sense when she speaks.

Then another person takes over, and it’s none other than Ryan Akagi himself. He recognizes him because of the hair and the obnoxious red glasses. That means the girl is Kez, and he should be walking up to her and introducing himself — and he will, because the red glasses are starting to give him a headache.

“Are you, uh, Kez?” Min asks her when he finally reaches her.

She turns around, shaggy black hair under a grey beret, tan skin almost perfectly matching the color of her sweater, and to complete the look… bell earrings? A bit eccentric, but he should’ve expected that given what Phoebe said on the phone.

She smiles, wide. “So you’re the critic guy! NAT-”

Min cuts her off before she can finish saying it. “You can just call me Min-Gi. Min-Gi Park.”

She shakes his hand. “Not so ominous for an anonymous guy. I feel so secretive, man. I wonder how many people here read your stuff and don’t even know it’s you!”

Well, he’s thought about it before, mostly when his blog first started gaining a lot of traction really fast. And then when he moved to Toronto and went to the store for the first time. It’s better than people walking up to him and recognizing him.

“I didn’t think I needed to be ominous?” is all he replies with.

“I dunno, man. I thought your name was NAT Prospect. I also though you’d be more… wrinkly and snobby? You’re like my age? Guess that’s better than having to hang around with an old guy.” Kez speaks like she’s letting everything she thinks about spill out of her mind. He understands the description Phoebe gave him a lot better now.

“Should I sign my autograph with a capital ‘R’ or does it matter?” Ryan’s walking over to the two of them, and he assumes he’s talking to Kez, not noticing he’s there. “Should I be keeping it consistent?”

“It’s handwriting, dude.” Kez replies. “I don’t think it matters.”

Ryan’s shorter than he expected him to be. He’s wearing heeled ankle boots, and yet Min still stands many centimeters taller than him.

“Who are you-” he points before his face fills with realization. “Oh, you’re a music critic? I thought you’d be wearing a monocle.”

Min furrows his eyebrows, “I’ve never met a music critic who wears a monocle.”

“Nor have I!”

Kez rolls her eyes and gestures towards him, “That’s Min. Min-Gi Park.”

They shake hands, and he can feel the calluses on his fingertips, but yet his hands are soft despite them.

“You ready for the most exciting months of your life?” Ryan asks, excitement filling his entire face. Min is just confused at the fact that neither of them have mentioned his critique — the one that says, His lyrics lack meaning, really, they lack everything that makes music actually enjoyable. If I could go back in time, I’d go back to before I heard this album and opt against listening. — which is relieving, but also confusing. He doesn’t say anything, though.

Kez turns to talk to him, “First tour for that guy. He’s extra ecstatic. Also, how old are you exactly? Need to ask you for… reasons.”

He furrows his eyebrows again, “Uh, twenty?”

“Coolio.” she takes out a notepad and scribbles on it. “I didn’t want an old man staying in our bus, but you’re the same age as Ryan and I, so you can stay with us! Less crowded than the bus for the crew.”

“Kez-a-tron!” he hears Ryan call out. “Your bag fell off the… wagon thing!”

“Don’t mess with it!” Kez calls out to him. “Give me a sec, man!”

“We’re leaving tomorrow, so Ryan and I can just swing by your room and lead you from there!” Kez smiles.

“Another bag fell!” Ryan calls out again, which makes Min chuckle softly.

Kez writes down his room number quickly before preparing to walk over to Ryan,

She points finger guns, “Get prepared for the time of your life, Min!”

Ryan peeks out from the corner to shoot him a ‘rock on’ sign and disappearing behind the corner again.

Truly, he has no idea what to expect in these few months of being on the road with those two, but he hopes it’ll be something that gets him what he needs to write… whatever it is he needs to write. And, to possibly have an enjoyable time?

Chapter Text

“And this is our bus!” Kez points at the bus with her pen. “I’ve only been in it, like, once and I already forgot what it looks like inside so it’ll be a surprise for all of us!”

Before Min can reply, Kez rapidly points her pen towards a man carrying a bag full of… bells? 

“Mark!” she shouts out, and the man looks up, almost losing balance. “Be careful with the bells! I will hunt you down if they get hurt.”

The man nods in response and holds the bag tighter before walking towards the van for the crew. 

Min furrows his eyebrows, “Bells?”

“Mhm!” Kez nods as she reaches in her pocket for keys to unlock the bus. “We’re adding it during ‘Dazzle’ or, better named ‘ (Kez’s Song).’ I just like bells.”

There’s a loud bang that comes from the left of them as she unlocks the door. When he turns his head towards the sound, Ryan is sat on the ground in front of the now open luggage door on the side of the bus. He looks up and smiles before shooting up a thumbs up and proceeding to grab the luggage. 

“Okay, cool. I think I remember it now.” Kez says aloud when Min enters the bus. 

She looks around and points at just about everything, “So there’s couches and a kitchen and — oh! there’s the beds.” 

She turns back towards Min. He hasn’t moved from the spot he was in when he entered the bus. 

“There’s four beds! We got all the room in the world, so you can take your pick and Ryan can-”

“Top bunk!” in comes Ryan, speeding inside of the bus before Kez can finish her sentence.

Kez crosses her arms, “Nuh-uh. Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m the musician in the room, so I should obviously get first pick!” he bows, which causes his glasses to start slowly coming off of his face — and, honestly he wishes they fell and broke so he wouldn’t have to see those obnoxious glasses anymore. 

Min notices how much chemistry they have as they bicker about who should get the top bunk. He’s only met them yesterday, but he can tell that they’ve known each other for a while — that, or they just really hit it off the first time they met. He thinks it could possibly be a good thing, for the sake of his article.

After not so gracefully winning whatever bickering she was having with Ryan, she walks over to Min.

She points at him, “So, Min. Do you, like, know how to cook?”

Min nods slowly, he finds himself confused with every interaction he has with her. “Yeah?”

“Oh! Sweet!” she replies in excitement, her pointed finger turning into a fist she pumps. “I’m sure they’ll have food at, like, the hotels or whatever, but tour bus life’ll probably make us all hungry, and all I saw in the fridge was bacon, canned tomatoes, and uncooked pasta. Not even a pre-made sauce, man!”

Min chuckles. Despite Kez being eccentric and making no sense most of the time, she’s growing on him already — which is pretty rare, actually, the only friend he’s ever had is Phoebe, and he met her at eighteen. 

Ryan walks over to them, and it makes him feel tall while he’s next to both Kez and him. He’s not a giant when it comes to his height by any means, but he sure does feel like one right now. 

“So,” Ryan starts, and he’s unsure whether he’s going to start talking to Kez or to him — judging by his tone, he assumes him, but he’s also barely spoken more than three words to him all day. 

“What is it you’re supposed to be… writing?” Okay, he is talking to him.

In Stephen’s words, it’s an ‘article.’ That’s all he was given by him the day he found out, and that’s all he’s been given. He told him ‘Just take a bite of Ryan Akagi, examine his flavor palette and spit it all out into an article!’ This is verbatim, by the way. He actually responded with this after a text Min had sent him regarding how confusing he made just about everything. So, in short, he really doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be writing. He’s never been to an actual concert before, let alone been on a tour before. He’ll have to figure it out soon, though, without his boss’s help — not that it would ever be of any use to him.

Min shrugs, “An article, I guess?” he skips over the fact that it’s supposed to be ‘damage control.’ “Guess it’s in high demand to hear about your first tour.”

“Well, I’m an open book!” Ryan shoots finger guns.

Min raises his eyebrows. His eyes keep gravitating towards his bright glasses, and he wishes he could stop commenting on them. They’re just so… aggravating. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” he says it genuinely, but honestly he’s pretty sure Kez is more of an open book than he is. Given that she’s actually spoken to him a significant amount more than he has.

“Sure, man.” is what he replies before turning to talk to Kez. “Are there chips in here?”

“Should be.” she replies nonchalantly before becoming more attentive and adding, “Don’t you dare eat them all.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, ma belle.” he bows, bag of chips already in hand.

. . .

Kez and Min are actually getting on quite well. And he was right, she is an open book. He’s not sure how many people would be interested in all of what he’s learned about her in his article, though. Maybe he should figure out what Ryan Akagi superfans are into.

The two of them sit off-stage as Ryan is… well, he’s not sure what he’s doing now. There were a lot of various people forcing him to go to a lot of different places. Who knows where he is right now. It’s not like they talk much, anyways.

He’s got a notepad in hand, covered in bullet points.

• Kez is almost like a better version of Stephen? Eccentric but in a good way? (don’t tell him that)

• Her outfits are so… bold? How many pairs of crazy earrings does she have? (today is crabs in top hats, who thinks of this?)

• Her favorite color is lime green and “the occasional dark purple, depends on my mood”

He’s hoping he’ll come out of this first show with some better things to add to the list.

“So you’ve never been to an actual concert before?” Kez asks. “Aren’t you, like, a critic?”

He shrugs, “My boss just tells me to watch performances online. He says he doesn’t like my ‘lack of impulsivity’, but I just like to plan things in advance! I don’t like not being prepared.”

“Oh, Min.” Kez shakes her head. “I can totally help you with that. Without my impulses, I wouldn’t be the world’s hottest manager!”

“What?”

“Yeah!” Kez says enthusiastically. “Someone on Twitter made a picture that said I was! Had my picture on it and everything. Seemed legit.”

Min opens his mouth to reply, but stops when he hears loud noises coming from the stage. Both of them dart their heads towards the sound.

It’s Ryan and at least six other people. Everyone is making loud footsteps as they rush to put down equipment. Ryan is crouched down on the floor, taking his guitar out from its case before moving and plugging it in. Someone shouts from off-stage, telling him to strum his guitar — he does, and it’s loud. Turning it down! the same person shouts back. They test it again, less loud. Ryan turns his head and shoots a smile and a thumbs up to Kez, and she returns both of the gestures back to him with a You’re gonna crush it!

“So, uh,” Min starts. “You two are close.”

“Yeah!” she smiles at him. “I think I’m the best thing to ever happen to him. Oh! I’m gonna tell him that. One sec.”

She cups her mouth with her hand and shouts, catching the attention of everyone on the stage, including Ryan. “You know I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you!”

“You know it, ma belle!” he shouts back. Another reference to that shitty song by The Beatles. He hates The Beatles, and he’s made a critique about them once before he got super popular. Stephen said he liked that one in particular, for its ‘boldness.’ It wasn’t bold, it was simply an opinion he would and will happily take to his grave. 

“How long have you guys, uh, been a… thing?” 

Kez chokes, coughs while laughing. “Wait? Like, a couple? Me and Ryan? We play for, like, completely different teams.”

Oh. He kind of read the signs wrong, that’s embarrassing for him. To be fair, they do have a lot of chemistry, they’re creating some weird concoction of chemicals, just not the one he thought they were making. 

She seems to notice his face filled with embarrassment, so she puts her hand on his shoulder. “Oh, you’re fine dude. We get it all the time. One time PR asked me how serious we were, so you’re not the only one!”

Min shrugs as she reaches over and looks at his notepad. “Hey, I should do that!”

“Do what?” he furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

She takes out her notepad and flips to a blank page. “Bullet points! About you. Let me ask the questions this time!”

He raises his eyebrows, “Okay, sure. Go ahead.”

‘Favorite color?’ she asked first. ‘Blue,’ he responds. Then it’s a repetitive action of question, answer, and Kez writing down a bullet point on her notepad. Sometimes she adds the occasional commentary, like when he responded to the question of ‘Why a music critic?’ with ‘Guilty hobby. I started when I was, like, sixteen,’ she makes her commentary as she writes, ‘Yawwnn. So boring.’ He just raises his eyebrows and replies with ‘Sorry we can’t all be the world’s hottest manager.’ 

. . . 

Ryan Akagi’s first show at his first ever tour was, putting it in simple terms, an absolute mess.

The microphone was too low, so when he spoke everyone shouted back to him we can’t hear you!, so the same person who adjusted it had to take a walk of shame and adjust it again. When it’s loud enough, Ryan shouts out who’s ready for the sick licks of Gage? and absolutely no one in the crowd understood what he said judging by the amount of confused mumbles that come from them, so he spends ten minutes explaining how ‘Gage’ was his stage name when he used to play at birthday parties and retirement homes — that might be useful information for Min’s article, actually. Then, during the first verse of ‘Straight to the Top’, Mark walks onstage with the bag of bells, and freezes before speed-walking off the stage with the bag in hand. 

“C’mon, man!” Kez said as Mark was the one who was taking the walk of shame. “The bells are for my song! The best song on the album! You can’t mistaken it for anything else.”

It gets better as it goes on, Ryan gets more comfortable and there’s less people who take the walk of shame. His performance of ‘Dazzle (Kez’s Song)’ added with the bells actually makes it sound better than the original — not that he liked it before, since the lyrics made absolutely no sense to him. Though, after learning about Kez and listening to the song now, he’s starting to understand. The line ‘dazzles in limes and dark purples,’ that he previously commented on with a brutal ‘Lime and purple makes no sense, again. I just don’t get what I’m supposed to be envisioning here. It’s more frustrating to listen to than enjoyable.’ Well, it makes sense now that he knows her favorite colors, and the lyrics sound more endearing. It’s a song about friendship, filled with references that only make sense when you get the full picture. He writes another bullet point down as the last song ‘Open Mic Night’ plays — and Kez informs him that it’s also about the night they met at an open mic night at some karaoke place. 

Now they’re entering the bus again, since they have no time to stay the night here. So, Kez requests pasta many times until Min finally complies. Ryan’s there, too, but he’s quiet, more quiet than usual. He doesn’t say anything about it, though. It’s not like he knows him all that well, anyways. He just makes pasta with the limited amount of ingredients that are inside of the fridge.

“How’d you even make this?” Kez asks in awe after she’s already halfway finished with her plate.

“It wasn’t that hard.” Min replies. It was easier to make than kimchi — well, only because it smelled so… pungent, and his mom would often tell him no, no, no and take over before saying it’s more like that! and he still didn’t understand. “Just canned tomatoes in a pan with spices.”

Ryan picks up the plates once they’re all finished without saying anything, a soft thanks comes from himself, and a louder thanks, Ry-guy comes from Kez. He just nods his head in response and softly smiles before walking over to the beds.

Min furrows his eyebrows. Sure, they don’t speak very much and he knows little to nothing about him, but he can’t help but be concerned for the boy with the bright red glasses.

“Is he okay?” Min asks softly, voice just barely louder than a whisper. 

Kez moves to sit in a chair that’s closer to him, she takes a glance at his notepad that’s on the table. “Well, I think he’s nervous about the show and stuff, man. I mean, like, I think he crushed it, but it was kind of a mess at the beginning.”

Min nods slightly and looks down at his notes. The ones made from the beginning of the show are a lot different than the ones from the show nearing its end.

• Sick licks of gay?? (oh, he said Gage not gay, still have no idea why he said that)

• I heard the beginning of ‘Dazzle (Kez’s Song)’ until it rapidly changed into ‘Straight to the Top’?

• Mark just came onstage with the bells… oh no

• Walk of shame counter: 3

“I know you’re, like, a critic and all, judging harshly or whatever,” Kez speaks again. “but, like, maybe you could cut him some slack, man. The pressure is pretty on! Critic guy watching and writing and shit, I mean, like, it’s a bit pressure inducing, man!”

Min nods but stays silent, reminiscing on how he almost felt… joy about writing such a brutal critique about a rising artist’s first album. He’s still a person who probably has problems just like he does.

Kez puts a hand on Min’s shoulder. “I think you’re cool, man! I know you’re doing, like, your job. No harm intended. I just think, like, combining color palettes might do you two some good. You said your favorite color was blue, eh? Blue and red creates purple. Oh, hey! That’s one of my favorite colors! I think this was meant to be.”

She makes an explosion with her hands, “Combination.”

She walks away to sit on the couch and Min looks down at the notes written on his notepad, more specifically the ones from the better half of the show.

• His glasses actually do match when I notice the slight red hue in his clothes… (they’re still hideous)

• His guitar solo in ‘Electric Guitar’ is actually pretty cool (still predictable, but cool)

• I take it back ‘Dazzle (Kez’s Song)’ and ‘Open Mic Night’ are growing on me… a lot… 

He gets up from his chair slowly. If he’s ever planning on getting out of the three word sentences zone with Ryan, it’s gotta start somewhere, with something.

He finds him sitting on his bed, bottom bunk, hugging his knees, staring at the ground. 

He looks up when Min reaches him, though. Min smiles at him, and he returns the gesture.

“Sorry,” is what he says. “Can I, uh, sit?” Four words. That’s a start.

“Oh,” he replies back, untucking his knees and scooting over. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

They sit in some weird sort of silence. It’s a combination of the kind of awkward silence that happens between two people who barely know and each other and also an awkward silence that happens when two close friends have no idea what to say to each other — and it’s weird to describe, since he’s barely known Ryan for a day, and they never have long enough conversations for him to say that they know anything about each other. 

“So, uh,” Min breaks the silence. He’s not good at this usually, and he’s pretty sure he’s not good at it now either. “The show was good today. Not that I really have anything to compare it to.”

“Oh?” he looks up at him, but quickly darts his eyes back down to the floor. “Uh, thanks.”

He furrows his eyebrows and quickly picks his head up to look at him again. “Wait, you’ve never been to a concert before?”

Min’s cheeks turn into a light pink, “No? Not unless my primary school piano recitals count.”

“So the most famous critic of our time has never been to a concert until now?” Ryan raises his eyebrows. “That means when someone asks you’ll have to say oh, yeah, my first concert was Ryan Akagi’s. I’ll take the honor if I have to.” 

“No need to flatter yourself.” Min retorts.

“You play piano?” he goes back to what Min previously said. “Thought music critics were, like, observers or something. You know? Like, can’t play, so I’ll watch and analyze them instead?”

Min scoffs, “You also thought I was an old man who wore a monocle before you met me.”

Ryan shrugs, “Touché.”

It’s weird how well they’re able to talk to each other. It’s like close friends catching up after being away for a few months. This is good, though, right? He’s out of the three word sentences zone now, which means he’ll learn more and hopefully get some sort of starting point for this shitty article he has to write. Also, on the plus side, the glasses are starting to grow on him.

Chapter Text

“So does this mean you’re…” Phoebe pauses for dramatic effect. “ friends with Ryan Akagi?”

“I mean, yeah.” Min responds, but he’s still stubborn, so he adds. “For the sake of the article.”

“Oh, I see.” She responds in a teasing tone. “I’ll make sure not to deactivate your Ryan Akagi hate page, then.”

“I do not own a hate page for him.”

“Has slight fondness,” Phoebe mumbles through the receiver, like she’s writing down something. “but won’t admit it. Denial is a prison, Min. I’ll help you out of there.”

“Don’t you have, I don’t know, work to do?” Min asks.

“Yeah, I do actually.” She responds, but judging by her tone of voice she’s not actually going to do it. “Without our beloved NAT Prospect to rate the recent albums, we’re falling apart!”

“There might not be much left of me by the time I finish whatever it is Stephen wants me to write.” Min leans against the back of the chair and softly sighs. He’s got his bullet points, sure, but he’s still not sure where to start… or how.

“Don’t worry,” she says it genuinely, a hint of a teasing tone still on her tongue. “You already like him, so it shouldn’t be too hard to like his music.”

“I tolerate two of his songs,” Min retorts back. “Tolerating is different than liking.”

And then Kez walks in, pauses before taking his phone, like a big sister — though, he doesn’t know much about what siblings do. He’s not sure why he lets her take it, since he’s talking to Phoebe on the phone. 

She mouths ‘I got you’ before speaking in a low voice, “What are your opinions on pudding?” she snickers.

She rummages through the freezer and takes out a box of frozen waffles and points at them, asking if he wants any. He shrugs and nods in response and she shoots him a thumbs up as she realizes it’s Phoebe who she’s speaking to, Min still doesn’t take the phone from her. Kez speaks to her like she’s been best friends with her for years, even though she’s only had one previous conversation with her. And he’s still right about her being an open book, because she really is.

She hangs up the phone and sets down a plate in front of him, handing him his phone after doing so. 

“No butter, no syrup.” Kez sits down in the chair next to him. “But the waffles are chocolate chip, so I guess that makes up for it.”

Min chuckles and shrugs while nodding before he looks down at his notes in front of him. They’re mostly about Ryan now, considering they talk more than they did on the first day and he desperately needs shit for whatever the hell it is he’s meant to be writing. 

It’s not like the bullet points are anything that aren’t normal. Just random facts he learned about the rising artist, it’s good information for the article!

• He’s got two brothers and two sisters, he’s the middle child. (actually, he kind of has middle child energy? I don’t know enough shit about siblings)

• Born on November 28, 1998?? In Powell Lake?? At the same hospital??? (I’m still not sure I believe this?)

Birthdays come up in regular conversation! It usually is just dates being spread around and marked as important in the other's head but it’s never like…whatever it is that happened between the two of them once he asked.

“Okay, birthday?” Min asked this after not really having anything else to talk about. He probably could’ve looked it up when he thinks back, but it doesn’t matter.

“November 28th.” He replied as he sat up on his bed, bottom bunk, obviously. Min was on a bottom bunk, too — he tried to be on the top, but he could barely survive a night up there before he switched. Ryan could’ve taken the bunk he wasn’t using, but he stayed in the bunk under Kez’s. “And you?”

“Oh, uh, me too.” Min replied back. They’re both aware that they’re both the same age, so that meant the same year, too. Maybe he should’ve done his research more thoroughly so he wouldn’t have been so… surprised.

“Kez said you were from Powell Lake, too,” Ryan started. “It’d be funny if we were born in the same hospital.”

Obviously that set off the entire thing. November, 28th, 1998. Powell Lake, Canada. Same hospital, because what kind of luck is that? The same person he makes a bad critique of and is forced to go on tour with ends up being some kind of fucking… twin of his. 

He did tell Phoebe about it, because why would have a reason to not? Just a weird coincidence — though, he regrets telling her since she now constantly claims they’re ‘star-crossed lovers’ and though he knows it’s a joke, he can’t help but feel… different about it.

“So,” Kez speaks and puts her head in her hands. “You asked me about my love life, so I think it’s only fair that I get to hear about yours.” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“All I asked was if you and Ryan were a couple.” Min retorts. “I wouldn’t call it ‘asking about your love life.’”

Truth is, there wasn’t anything interesting to say about it. He’s never had a girlfriend — he did have a date to prom, though, but they never really went past that stage. And he’s never had a boyfriend, either — not like he could’ve, he figured out his sexuality in grade 11 and he’s never really been out and proud about it. Though, he doesn’t know anything about Kez’s love life. Maybe she has a girlfriend? And he doesn’t know about Ryan’s love life, either. Maybe he has a boyfriend. Maybe. 

“Okay, sure. I’ll tell ‘ya more, bud.” She puts a hand on his shoulder and makes a face that reads as: I’m ready to indulge you about my experience. He expected it, though. As he said, open book.

So, she talks about her first and only ex-girlfriend of a year and a half, — ‘ 2016 to 2017, rest easy, kammy,’ she had said. — Samantha, Sammy for short. She claims the end of the relationship was caused by the fact that she hated the nicknames that Kez had, in her own words, wonderfully graced her with. 

“And you?” she asks when she was finished rambling about how Samantha was probably insulting her in French when she would speak it near her. “Now is it your turn?”

He answers honestly, replying with what he had originally thought of before, “Nothing special. A girl asked me to prom once but we… didn’t go further than that. Nothing exciting, sorry to burst your bubble.”

He’s not embarrassed about his love life or anything. He never really thought he had time for dating, anyways. On top of his grades, getting into uni, and running his semi-popular music critiquing blog, secondary school Min-Gi Park pretty much had absolutely no time for dating — and no time to actually accept the part of him that liked boys, too. He got there eventually, though. For the most part. 

. . . 

Min looks down at his bullet points again as he sits and everyone around him is preparing for the show. The footsteps have gotten a lot less frantic, and preparations go by quicker now. The shows go by smoother now, usually the microphone is loud enough and most people in the audience love when Ryan explains some of the weird shit he shouts out. He enjoys the shows, and they give him more appreciation for the songs on his album — right now he’s really enjoying ‘New York City’ , but it might also be because Ryan had explained to him that it was actually about his childhood dream to play a show in New York City, and he’s actually playing at one on this tour. It’s… endearing to think about. 

He barely gets time to look over the previous bullet points he has written down before Ryan is standing in front of him, wearing a white button-up shirt that’s not buttoned up to the top, a long red jacket over it, and dark red flare pants over brown ankle boots. Everything somehow has a red tint to it, his hair, even the white button-up. It’d be hard to not know his favorite color is red. 

“Cool, or what?” Ryan gestures towards his outfit. He’s confident, but he can tell that some part of him is asking for approval. The outfit is very… him. It’s not an insult, because it really is him . It’s a compliment. It complements, well, him. All of him.

“Couldn’t imagine anything more fitting.” is what he replies with, and it’s true. It’s the most fitting for every single aspect of him, and he’s not sure he’s ever really thought that about an outfit before.

Ryan leaves and he reads his previous bullet points again. There’s the basic ones, about his siblings and his birthday and his favorite color, but there are others that are more specific. It seems like they get more specific as they get newer, as he notices the little quirks Ryan does that possibly no one else is even aware he does. It’s not really crucial information that’ll help him write this stupid article, but he feels a need to write it all down, to document it.

• He sticks his tongue out when he’s really focused on something (what the fuck is a capo and why is he deciding where to put it on his guitar)

• He writes his capital A’s rounded on the top

See what he’s saying! Who cares about how he writes his letters? Him apparently, or at least he cares enough about it to write it down. It’s not that weird, though — except for the fact that he wrote it down, but he’ll put a pin in that for later — since he always notices small, intricate details about people. Like, how Ryan’s handwriting is surprisingly neat and it makes his notes that are extremely unorganized and make absolutely no sense look like they do. And how Kez’s handwriting is just chicken scratch and matches her train of thought exceptionally well. 

Then Kez sits down beside him and he flips to a blank page in his notebook and writes down more bullet points as the show goes on, as Ryan sings and jokes around, as his previously slicked back hair starts to go back to its fluffiness as the show continues.

. . . 

When he opens the door of his first hotel room he’s been in since being on the road, — finally, really, the bed in his room is ten times more comfortable than the tiny bottom bunk he sleeps on in the bus. Also, he’s more relaxed without Kez constantly turning and mumbling in her sleep. — Kez is outside of it, and she immediately points a finger in his face.

“When were you going to tell me you played piano?” 

Ryan appears next to her before he can respond, out of breath and with hair that looks messier than usual. “Jeez, Kez. Slow down, will ‘ya?”

She doesn’t respond, instead she keeps pointing at Min, “When?”

He shrugs sheepishly, “It never came up!”

Kez groans lightheartedly and walks past him, inviting herself inside of his hotel room. Min rubs his eyes as Ryan steps closer, not inviting himself in but clearly waiting for an invitation.

He covers his mouth as he yawns before he speaks, moving over slightly and gesturing inside of his room. “Make yourself at home.”

“Phoebe told me she plays bass, man!” Kez flops on the bed, and Min sits on the small couch next to Ryan. “Like, bass! And then she just casually says you play piano! Like, were you never going to tell me this? You even told Ryan!”

Min shrugs. He’s on tour with a musician, sure, but it’s not like him knowing classical songs on the piano is of any importance to them. All he did was play at recitals a few times, and besides, Ryan is more of a rock-pop kind of artist, not classical. 

“What can you play?” she goes on. “Is it more like christian music that you were forced to play ‘cause your parents forced you to learn for church? Or is it more like modern-day songs ‘cause you only wanted to play what you enjoy? Please, Min, tell me everything.”

“Okay,” he complies. “It was neither of those things. I wanted to learn the piano for years before I finally asked my parents. Well, begged, really, I guess. They only let me learn classical music, though, so that’s all I know.”

Ryan jolts up from his seat beside Min and raises one finger up, “Give me a second.” he rushes out of the hotel room, leaving both of them confused.

They stay in their seats until Ryan comes back, Kez writes more bullet points on her notepad. 

There’s a knock on the door again, and he knows it’s Ryan. He’s not really sure what to expect when he opens the door, but then again, he’s not sure he knows what he ever expects from Ryan in general.

When he opens the door, Ryan practically rushes inside, dragging a keyboard inside the room and getting it plugged in beside the couch they both were previously sitting on. He knows what’s coming, but he lets it happen nonetheless.

“Voila!” Ryan bows once he finishes setting up the keyboard, and Kez cheers, clapping her hands. “Isabel from soundcheck let me borrow it!”

Min just stares and feels the heat rush to his cheeks as Ryan puts a hand on his shoulder — it’s only because he’s nervous, he’s never played for anyone before, really. The last recital he had was back in primary school, so it’s been… quite a while.

Ryan smiles at him, big, wide, and genuine, his hand still softly gripping on Min’s shoulder — something about it just frustrates him, maybe it’s because he’s making a stupid face and his eyes are practically sparkling under his glasses. He doesn’t know how it all makes him feel, really. Something along the lines of frustrated and… comfortable? He’s not sure how he can feel both at the same time.

“Serenade us, Min!” Ryan puts another hand on his other shoulder. “Show us whatcha got!”

He can’t say no, not when Ryan is looking at him with stars filling his eyes and when he turns his head to look where Kez is, she’s got the same look on her face. So, he turns his head back to look at Ryan, and he nods in compliance before he sits down in front of the borrowed keyboard. He hears both Ryan and Kez cheer in delight. 

It has been a minute since he’s played, and he hasn’t played in front of anyone who isn’t just his private teacher since primary school. When he moved to Toronto, he didn’t have much room in his apartment to store a piano, so he hasn’t really played since he moved away from his parents. Thankfully, CBC Radio has a room filled with instruments, so he gets time to play on his off-time — which mostly consists of him trying to learn songs that aren’t classical. He knows some, he would teach himself songs once his piano teacher would shut the front door of his house. He’s better at the classical ones, though, since he’s been learning those for years on end.

He could go with a non-classical song, like Elton John or Billy Joel, but he instead lets his hands start playing the start of Heroic Polonaise , a classical song composed by Chopin that his parents had requested his private teacher to teach him. He played that song at every recital, every single day he took lessons they worked on it. It’s practically engraved into his brain now. 

And when he plays he feels eyes on him, different from his private teacher, and there’s no one there to stop him when he plays a note wrong. Just silence. It makes him feel like he’s back at the auditorium, playing the same song as a finale to end all finales, the arpeggios and the rapid movement of his fingers making him forget how hot and probably bright red his cheeks were. It takes him back to when he was ten years old, ending his final recital, feeling lonely and out of place and putting his parents' happiness over his own. He’s at a different stage in his life now, though. He’s not at a recital, his parents aren’t forcing him to study finance, and the only people in the room right now are Ryan and Kez, two people who he’s not known for long, but yet they feel like his close friends already — and it’s odd, yeah it is, but it’s nice. 

And when he finishes playing the last note of the song, there aren't small, distinguished claps that fill an auditorium with soft noise, and he doesn’t have to carefully get up from his seat and wait for the other performers to bow alongside him. Instead, he hears loud cheers from both Ryan and Kez, and comments that are drowned out by the both of them engulfing him into a hug. 

He thinks he’s lucky, being able to get on with the musician whose music he brutally critiqued prior to meeting him. Maybe Phoebe is right, something about the two of them is star-crossed. Like, the world really wants them to get pulled together — and it’s weird, but he doesn’t really dwell on it. 

. . . 

• Ryan wanted to produce his music under the name Chicken Choice Judy??? (I’m glad we weren’t friends when we both lived in PL, imagine being in a band called Chicken Choice Judy)

• Is he intentionally wearing clothes that have a slight red tint in them?? I’m kind of scared now

Kez pointed out on the bus that they’re all wearing their favorite colors, her wearing purple, him wearing blue, and Ryan wearing red, of course. And maybe he’s reading too much into the whole red thing. Kez said to ‘combine color palettes’ once and now he’s taking that and running with it, looking too deep into something that wasn’t really supposed to be. He wears blue most of the time, anyways. Maybe everything he owns has a slight blue tint to it, maybe even his hair.

He still thinks about how close he and Ryan have gotten over the course of just a few days, and honestly, it’s really out of the ordinary for him. The only friend he’s ever had is Phoebe, he’s never had a real friend until he was eighteen and already out of school. Out of the hundreds of kids that went to his school, he couldn’t manage to even get one of them to be his friend — and it sounds sad, and maybe in hindsight it is, because it was lonely sometimes, but really, none of them really clicked with him in the right ways. He always felt like an alien compared to all of his peers around him. 

Really, he just never expected them to get so… close. He took so much of his time analyzing and, for a lack of a better term, shitting on his first album, and he enjoyed doing so! Yet, now, they’re acting like they’ve known each other for their entire lives. It’s weird and it’s different, and it should be uncomfortable, but it’s not. 

Kez sits beside him again as the whole setting up ritual begins. Rushing and soundcheck, more rushing and yelling. It’s an everyday routine now, welcome to tour life — that’s what Kez had told him, even though this is… also her first time on a tour.

And Ryan does what he does again, he walks over to the side of the stage where Min sits and shows off his outfit filled with tints of red — red blazer, brown, almost black heeled boots, tan pants. Nothing is safe from the slight red undertones; all of them have it. 

Eh? , is what he’s pretty sure Ryan said as he shows him the outfit he has on. It’s all kind of a mumble of everything together, the rushed footsteps and the background conversations and Ryan making his sounds, all mushed together as he stares. 

There’s something about this outfit, and it’s not like any of the other ones — well, it is, sort of, with all the red tints or whatever, but he’s not referring to that. It’s not one that fits his entire essence, not one that compliments his personality. He doesn’t mean that as an insult, because he definitely likes the outfit. It just flatters him in a way that he… that it makes him not want to look away. It’s something captivating, and he can’t look away. Can’t really do much but stare — gawk, really, and it’s embarrassing. 

He can feel his face flush, but he stutters something out anyways, “Your outfits keep getting better and better.”

He means to say that in more of a friendly and calm manner, but it comes out breathy, shaky, and completely… captivated — and those are the words to describe how he feels about the outfit, but he didn’t really want to show it.

If Ryan notices his tone, though, he doesn’t comment on it. “You’re welcome, Min!” is what he responds with as he bows. His cheeks are rosy under his red glasses when he walks back towards the stage, and Min doesn’t dig deeper into it. Or anything else for that matter. 

Then it’s the show all over again. Same set list, different crowd, but still loud and energetic. Min and Kez sitting side by side like usual and cheering, singing along, laughing. It’s becoming routine, and he enjoys it.

Well, it’s routine until it’s not. 

It’s not routine when Ryan has Isabel from soundcheck bring up a piano to the stage, but it’s not like the show is ever the same as the last, so he ignores it.

It’s not routine when Ryan’s speaking, inviting someone up on the stage. 

And it’s definitely not routine when Min is the one being called on the stage — Kez and I’s most cherished friend and third musketeer! And it’s not routine when he stares at him, wide, starry-eyes looking at him through his red glasses as Kez cheers from behind him and pushes him closer to the stage.

It’s a whole new addition when he’s standing onstage, away from his chair and his notepad and Kez, in front of everyone in the crowd — and he can tell they’re all slightly confused, and so is he, to be honest.

The whole thing feels like a blur, really. One minute he’s in his normal spot off-stage next to Kez trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to write the article he’s been assigned to do, and the next, he’s onstage in front of a crowd of Ryan Akagi superfans, who are now cheering for him, because Ryan is telling them he’s going to be playing the keyboard during this rendition of Open Mic Night . 

And he’s nervous, and he’s flustered and overwhelmed — for a multitude of reasons, one of which being he’s in front of a screaming crowd whose eyes are mostly on him, another being that Ryan is still captivating, and he has one of his hands resting on his shoulder.

And when he sits down in front of the keyboard he can feel the cheers from the crowd ring through his ears, and he’s not quite sure why he complied and why he’s preparing to play, but he is. Then, the drums start to play and Ryan starts strumming his guitar. Min sits at the piano and looks out towards the crowd, half expecting his piano teacher to be sitting there in a long, black dress with pearls and a music stand and preparing to motion for him to start, but she’s not there. It’s just Ryan’s fans cheering and holding up signs that he can’t make out — partly because he’s nervous and distracted and partly because most of the signs are rapidly moving to the point where he can’t make out what they’re saying. 

The cue for him to play comes from Ryan looking, smiling, and quickly shooting him a thumbs up before going back to playing his guitar. Open Mic Night is the only song that Min understands how to play — he told him this last night, actually, he just didn’t think it would bring him here onstage, playing the keyboard. So he plays along and it almost brings him back to the auditorium again like it did last night, eyes are on him but it’s not quiet and it’s not dark and, yes, it’s intimidating but it feels like it did when he played in front of Ryan and Kez. He’s not ten years old and his piano teacher nor his parents are here watching him. The only people here are Ryan and Kez — plus the packed venue of people, plus the entire crew, but it doesn’t feel like it. 

When the show ends, Ryan smiles, big and wide and so fucking stupid, and grabs his hand, dragging him to the center of the stage with him. And with their hands still intertwined, they bow, and the crowd cheers. Not sophisticated and soft claps, loud and exciting and energetic cheers.

. . . 

He looks down at his bullet points again as he sits on his bed on the bus. Kez is asleep in the bunk above Ryan, he knows this because he can hear the indecipherable mumbles coming from her. He had written a bullet point about her sleep-mumbling the first night — he also had found out that, yes, Ryan Akagi superfans are huge fans of Kez, and he wasn’t surprised about it. His eyes dart to his closed laptop across from him before they look back down at the bullet points again.

• Ryan also hates The Beatles (he claims to, despite referencing that horrible song by them, says it’s because “Kez likes them!”)

• Kez likes them. 

Oh, the day Kez found out she was the only one who actually liked that shitty band, she made a point to play a song by them every day. It’s still ongoing — it’s been three days and he’s already getting ready to rip his hair out because of it. Yesterday, she played Help! , and that’s the one thing that band got right, he does need help surviving another day where he has to listen to another one of their songs.

• We found out Ryan is 2 minutes older than me (I really wish we hadn’t, it’s the only thing he talks about now)

Reading through his bullet points is messy, when he reads them all together. Some are actually useful information, but he only finds it after sifting through a whole lot of quirks and just… meaningless notes. He likes it, though, and he usually hates when his notes are unorganized.

He eyes his closed laptop again as he finishes reading his notes, and he picks it up, sets it on his lap, and opens it. He clicks on the empty document he has labeled for the article.

Ryan Akagi is some type of enigma. 

Chapter Text

New York is last on the list of places they go to on this tour. Which means, from their starting point, Montreal, they make their way over to Vancouver before they turn around and travel back towards the East Coast to keep traveling downwards, then back up until they reach New York. It’s ten times more hectic than it sounds, and he’s not sure who decided that any of this was a good idea. Though, what he does know, is that Ryan Akagi’s lifelong dream has always been to play a show in New York, and he stated that he wants to end this first tour of his ‘in raging flames and with a big bang!’ The organization of this tour makes his head ache, but it’s not like whatever he has going on is any more organized. 

Over the duration of about two months they’ve spent on tour, Ryan and him have gotten… weirdly close — not in any way but platonic, obviously, it’s just odd how close they’ve gotten after only knowing each other for two months. It’s a big difference from the first times they’ve spoken, they don’t avoid doing it. 

Often Min finds himself doing things that are… different. His cheeks burn red when Ryan’s arm brushes his as they walk and he finds himself entranced by the way he looks so natural while playing concerts. 

And that brings him back to his original feelings, ones that are less foreign when it comes to Ryan Akagi. It’s a mixture of infatuation and some kind of envy. Like, how does he do it? How is he just so confident in everything he does? How does everything come so natural to him? He realizes he’s thought this about Ryan before, before they met, before he wrote the article. Something in his head that made him want to dig deeper, want to find one thing that was wrong with him and his music in general. Min still doesn’t understand why he doesn’t care about the article anymore, it was brutal, it was almost unprofessional, it was ruthless. He’s surprised that Ryan has the desire to be close friends with him after… well, everything, really. The whole reason he’s here is because of said article he wrote, and yet Ryan hasn’t mentioned it once since they’ve been together, since they’ve talked — and they talk a tremendous amount. 

Min started on writing the article a few weeks ago, and he hasn’t gotten very far with it. He started with a captivating introduction, a way of introducing why he’s writing this article without flat-out telling everyone the sole reason is because Stephen made him do so for ‘damage control.’ That’s as far as he’s gotten, because he noticed he still knows little about Ryan’s family life, only knowing the names of his siblings, but no memories, no parents. He doesn’t press on about it, they have meaningful conversations about other things, and he judges by the look on his face when he mentions something about his family that it’s more of a sensitive topic, a wound that’s healing, but still stings nonetheless.

“Have you really… not noticed?” Phoebe asks on the phone. “They’re your words, after all.”

Min can feel his cheeks flush pink, but he ignores it, “Of course I talk about him!” he deflects. “I’m supposed to be writing about him.”

He can hear Phoebe sigh and softly chuckle through the receiver, “I don’t think anyone who’s going to read the article cares about how ‘annoyingly messy’ Ryan’s hair is when he wakes up.”

He doesn’t respond, not with words, at least, just a noise he can’t pinpoint the meaning of. Everything about his friendship with Ryan has been odd to say the least. How he notices things that no one ever usually notices, how he analyzes them and finds a way to be annoyed by them, a slight bit frustrated with them. And, it didn’t make a lot of sense to him, why he was annoyed but couldn’t look at anything else when it happened — his messy morning hair, his tongue poking out slightly when he’s concentrating on something, his stupid red glasses. 

“Do you understand it now?” Phoebe asks, and he knows she’s grinning right now, like she hit the jackpot, but he’s not sure what exactly he’s supposed to be understanding.

“Hey,” Phoebe speaks again when he doesn’t respond, her teasing voice turning into a voice that’s soft and genuine. “Are you- Do you want to talk about it?”

The first thing that pops in his mind is, talk about what?, because, what is there to speak about? His fingertips brush his warm, pink cheeks as he moves the phone, and he gets it now. 

Phoebe thinks he likes Ryan, like, as in, he’s got a crush on him. It almost makes him laugh. 

“What?” is what he says finally after a scoff, and a confused noise comes from Phoebe’s end. 

“Are you really,” Phoebe brings the speaker closer to her mouth. “Why are you always so full of denial when I call you?”

“I’m not full of denial,” his cheeks grow warmer, he can feel it under his fingertips, and he scoffs before speaking again, in a softer voice than previously. “I think I’d know if I had a crush on him, and I don’t, by the way.”

He hears Phoebe make a frustrated groan, “Of course you have a crush on him!”

And after she speaks, before he can say how wrong that statement is, Stephen is speaking.

“Hello, Mr. Park!” he says cheerfully. “I would like to add, that I am not entirely against you falling for Ryan Akagi! It’d make for some lovely chemistry for the articles! All I say is: have your fun, kid!”

Min’s eyes go wide as Phoebe is back on the other line, laughing hysterically. 

“You’ll know soon enough,” is what she says through laughs. “Have your fun, kid!”

And she’s gone, leaving him with his burning cheeks and wide eyes. 

And like some comical scene in a movie, Ryan walks in the room, annoyingly messy morning hair and all the red hues that are still present even now. 

He looks, searches for a reason, for a feeling that makes him understand. Not even just what Phoebe was implying, but all of it. How he feels so close to Ryan after only knowing him for a short amount of time, why everything that’s foreign seems comfortable. 

What he finds isn’t anything. Or maybe it’s everything, maybe it’s everything he isn’t aware of, things that cause the warmth and the pinkening of his cheeks. It reminds him of when he first listened to My Oeuvre, when it was just an album that was filled with warm notes and lyrics that made absolutely no sense to him, when he tried to dig deep into a feeling he was engulfed in that he couldn’t understand, when he took that feeling and turned it into envy, — and, maybe that’s what it is, but it somehow feels deeper than that — chased it all the way until it produced a critique that led him here. And, here, this is where he’s learned to understand the lyrics written in Ryan Akagi’s debut album, where he’s made friends quicker than he ever has before, where everything is different, but as he feels, he notices that something is the same. The feeling that he can’t quite decipher, the one that got him here in the first place. 

He blinks back whatever he was previously thinking, because Ryan’s speaking through a yawn. 

“What?”

Ryan moves to sit next to Min on the couch.

“You worked at Dumpty’s, didn’t you?” his eyes are wide and beaming underneath his glasses, “Can you make their hash browns? Man, they were so greasy, but they were good as hell.”

“Working at Dumpty’s was an absolute nightmare,” Min laughs slightly. When he quit working there, he told himself he would never go back inside of one, and he hasn’t. Not in two years. “So, no, I won’t be making any food that relates to that shithole.” 

He gets up and walks over to the fridge to open it, almost losing balance as the bus makes a turn.

“I can make, uh,” he furrows his eyebrows as he gets a closer look at the limited items that are inside of the fridge, “Eggs, a slice of bacon and… ham? I think?”  

He gets Kez to inspect the food in the fridge — partly because he doesn’t want to put whatever piece of foreign meat was in the pouch of bacon near his face until he knew it was safe for the most part, and partly because Kez seems to know more about the food that got put in the fridge on their tour bus. Yet, she seems to know less than she should considering the fact that she was the one who helped arrange the tour bus in the first place. She explains to him the foreign piece of meat is, in fact, ham that used to be in a package that she stole from the crew’s bus.

“It’s totally safe,” she says with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “And would make for some delicious breakfast food I’m not gonna lie. Also, don’t tell anyone from the crew about the ham, they’ll steal the last of our chips, and we don’t have very many left!”

She puts the piece of ham back in the bacon bag that’s still in Min’s hand and walks over to sit down next to Ryan on the couch. He looks down at the contents of the bacon bag in his hand before opening the fridge again and grabbing the half-empty carton of eggs. He’ll figure out what he’s making as he goes, he guesses. As long as it’s not making food at Dumpty’s, with Horace complaining about how something wasn’t up to par, he’ll gladly take it. 

. . .

Min sits on the bed of his hotel room, computer on his lap, notepad right next to him, and his cursor just keeps blinking on the document. He had opened his laptop half an hour ago, stared down at the bullet points written on the pages of his notepad, and he still couldn’t find more words to write for this god-awful article he’s being forced to write. He’s never usually had this much trouble writing anything, and yet here he is, completely stumped. 

He thinks back to his critique again, and all of his critiques prior to it. His opinions on music haven’t really changed much over the years since he became the beloved NAT Prospect — he still hates The Beatles, still believes Retired from Sad, New Career in Business is Mitski’s best album. And he never expected his interpretations of music to change, hence why he made a whole blog back in secondary school to document his never-changing opinions on music, but it’s changing now. Well… slightly. After every show Ryan plays, after he repeats his setlist again as Min sits on the sidelines, after he shows off another outfit bathed in red hues to him, he finds all new ways to change his initial opinion on Ryan Akagi’s debut album. 

And as he thinks back, to what Phoebe said previously on the phone, to his own feeling he has towards Ryan he can’t really decipher, he thinks about how he should dig deeper. He knows there’s some truth to the previous thought he had about it, that it was envy, because some part of him is envious — and he shouldn’t be, he’s got what only people his age could dream of having, a successful job writing critiques at CBC Radio, living in a decently nice apartment in Toronto, doing what he’s loved to do since he learned to love anything: music. And, yet, there’s still something missing. Maybe that’s where the envy comes to play, how maybe if he had just taken another pathway, another choice that led him to pursue his real dream, the one that got clouded by the chants of engineering or finance? , and, Jesus, he’s glad he didn’t have to pursue either of those. He’s lucky, because he started his blog that somehow skyrocketed and now he’s working at what should be a dream, should be something he’s proud to have achieved — and he is, but yet he’s still envious, still thinking about how much he could’ve accomplished had he been just a little more… fearless. 

He finds himself dodging the original meaning of what he was trying to explain to himself. 

. . .

Min is woken up by the sound of rhythmic knocking on his hotel room’s door, and he rises up from the space he had apparently fallen asleep in — on top of his open laptop, where the document for the article now has a smash of letters, numbers, and symbols added to it, his only contribution. 

He opens the door groggily, sure his hair probably looks messy and terrible. Ryan’s in the hallway when he does, holding two plates of pastries that Min assumes he snuck up from the free breakfast buffet.

“Woah, Min,” he speaks, pointing one finger up at Min’s forehead. “Your forehead turn into a keyboard overnight?”

Min furrows his eyebrows and reaches his fingertips up to feel his forehead, which, in fact, did have keyboard-like divots on it. He sighs and steps out of the way, inviting Ryan inside of his room. 

Ryan looks down at one of the plates of food and points out every item that’s on it after Min closes the door — this is a croissant, this is a chocolate croissant, a bowl of assorted fruits, this is, uh, some kind of cookie with something in it… let’s hope they’re chocolate chips! 

“Oh!” he says again and reaches into the pocket of his jacket, after setting his own plate down on a table, and pulls out a carton, “And orange juice! Pretty rad, huh?”

Min takes his plate and orange juice from Ryan’s hand and goes to sit on the edge of his hotel bed, and Ryan follows suit, slowly taking a seat on the edge of the bed, too. When Min takes a glance over at him, he looks to be in another world as he stares down at his plate. 

He takes a moment to consider what he was trying to tell himself to look into last night: digging deeper. Well, he’s pretty sure Phoebe’s wrong about him having a crush on Ryan, but that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t still look deeper into this weird feeling he always had towards him. Some combination of envy, he keeps saying that’s what it is, anyways. Maybe that’s all it is, just him seeing what he could’ve been in Ryan had he just taken a few more risky steps and been more fearless. Maybe it’s different now, because after he was onstage with Ryan, playing keyboard and feeling something he could never feel when playing piano at a primary school recital, that he realized he could’ve been doing this had he just been like him, like Ryan. Maybe that’s why he’s always been envious, maybe that’s why when he first looked at him, first heard his debut album, he saw what he could’ve been and picked him apart — and felt less envious when he did so. 

But he already knows the feeling is deeper than envy. It’s deeper when he sees Ryan’s annoyingly messy morning hair, or his annoying eighties-style bright red glasses, or when he talks so passionately about his love for not just making his own music, but all different kinds of aspects of music. And, he thinks how Phoebe was right — about them being star-crossed — maybe that means she’s right about something else. But, she’s probably not. Right? 

Min looks away and pretends like the only thing he’s been doing is picking at the pastries on his plate, and it’s still quiet. He didn’t realize how quiet it was until what was probably only a mere two minutes passed by, where the only sounds were the movement of picking up juice cartons or pastries being moved on paper plates. Ryan’s rarely ever quiet, never leaving enough room for silence to sneak in — he’s said before that silence isn’t something he likes to be in for too long, which is why he usually breaks it with anything, even if it’s not of relevance or importance. Which is why the silence that’s fogging up the space between them right now is almost loud, concerning. 

He can hear Ryan’s phone buzz in his pocket and he feels, more than he sees, Ryan slightly jump at the sound. What he doesn’t feel, though, is Ryan check his phone — and when he sneaks a small glance over towards him, it looks more like he’s actively trying to avoid his phone. 

“So,” Ryan finally breaks the silence before Min can think any further. “Remember when you totally stole the show?”

Min furrows his eyebrows in confusion before he realizes what he’s referring to. He’s not sure ‘stole the show’ is the right way to describe the show he played keyboard at a few weeks ago, but he enjoyed it on top of his nervous sweating and lack of knowledge of how to play in front of a lively crowd — what he’s saying is… he wouldn’t mind if somehow it were to happen again.

“‘Stole the show’ is a bit of an overstatement,” is what Min replies with. 

Ryan makes a puff of dismissal, flicking his wrist in the process, “No overstatements here! I only speak the truth.”

He grins, big and wide and sparkly-eyed like he always does. His hair is fluffy and he looks more put-together than Min does now; a red leather jacket, a green turtleneck — considering summer’s ending and it’s getting significantly less warm than it has been, not that it really gets that warm anyway. Min’s still in sweatpants and a grey t-shirt with what he’s sure is messy morning hair. Probably less annoying than Ryan’s, though.

Min shrugs, and he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly bashful — well, he usually is, but he’s more-so referring to the fact that he usually isn’t around Ryan. 

“You should play again!” Ryan says, pointing at Min with the croissant he just took a bite of, grin still ever-present on his face, stars still glowing in his eyes.

Min already told himself he wouldn’t mind if he had the opportunity to play again, and here it is again, being presented to him instead of surprisingly announced to him. He loved the feeling of it, the nervous adrenaline rush of it all, but, for some reason, it feels… wrong. Not wrong in the sense that it’s wrong for him, more that it’s wrong for him to do. Like, he’s got what he wanted, a career path in analyzing music and people who actually listen to him when he talks about his opinions on music — listen they do, since getting a high rating from NAT Prospect is a justification for an album being good a lot of the time, and it’s still weird to him, honestly. It’s that… he shouldn’t be wanting anything more, sure, he didn’t get to be in a band like he wanted to for all these years, but he pursued something close to music nonetheless — and he never had that option before, just studying finance at some university he already forgot the name of. 

But as he thinks about it, as he feels somewhat wrong for wanting more, he also feels the want to be fearless, and he’s wanted that for as long as he could want something. 

So, Min shrugs nonchalantly — well, he tries to, but he’s pretty sure the shaky inhale of breath shows that he is anything but calm and relaxed. 

“I guess I could,” he tries to add something witty after saying that, but it comes off the same as his shrug. “Wouldn't want to steal the show from you again.”

Ryan slings an arm around Min’s shoulders, and he tenses slightly under the touch.

“Don’t worry, Minsters!” Ryan’s been using that awful nickname after he made it up on the spot at, like, three in the morning. He thinks it’s the best nickname he’s ever made; Min became accustomed to it. “It’s all for good reason. So, you will?”

Min’s shoulders become less tense as his face softens. He shrugs, “Alright. I guess so.”

And, somehow, Ryan’s grin turns bigger, more stupidly endearing.

. . . 

The show breezes by fast. It’s the adrenaline — because he’s never started a show knowing that he’s going to have to play in front of everyone before — and it’s the energetic excitement that comes from Ryan and Kez. It’s still somewhat the same, though. Ryan still goes up to him to show off his outfit that is still glowing red hues even when it probably shouldn’t, and soundcheck is the same, and he sits in the same spot on the side of the stage next to Kez as he has a notepad on his lap — that he’s actually too nervous to write in. Isabel shoots him a thumbs up as she walks past where he’s sitting, and she does the same when it’s almost time for him to go onstage.

He’s less nervous than he was before, because he knows it’s coming. He doesn’t do well with last-minute decisions, and he wants to do it anyway, so it doesn’t matter. He’s called on to play the same song: Open Mic Night, and he’s less nervous about that, too, since it’s an option that’s safer than him improving the keyboard portion of Ryan’s other songs. 

The introduction is different from the first one, but it still feels similar, still has the same meaning attached: The point of the triangle! The piano man, Min-Gi! 

And when he plays he’s not transported back to the auditorium where he played his recitals at, instead he’s playing a borrowed keyboard onstage with Ryan Akagi and a cheering Kez he can spot in the corner of his eye. It feels warmer, comforting, almost, despite the fact that he feels the nervousness manifesting in sweat and pink cheeks. It feels natural, more natural than anything he’s ever done in his entire life. 

The song ends and he stops playing, but he’s still in some kind of daze, the haziness of something so dream-like that it feels like it could probably cloud his mind forever. Then, Ryan grabs his hand and does it again, does that stupid fucking smile that makes him so annoyed, and he bows as their hands are intertwined. Min’s so engulfed in how fucking stupid this all is and how his high of playing onstage has still not died down even the slightest, that he doesn’t notice that Kez sprinted onstage and practically leaped at the both of them, and since their hands are still entwined, they’re both sent tumbling to the floor of the stage. 

Though, the dreamy haziness finally faded, and they’re lying on the dirty stage floor in front of a cheering crowd, something about it still feels unreal. A feeling he’s not sure he’s felt to this extent before.

. . . 

They all head straight back to the tour bus after the show, laughing at nothing in particular and drunk on the feeling of close friendship. 

When they entered, all of them flopped to the floor, ungracefully but somehow in one rhythmic movement. They lay in silence — well, silence if you’re talking about actual verbal communication. They all make some sort of loud noise, Ryan drumming a beat on the floor with his hands, Kez making some weird melody with claps, and Min snapping, which was supposed to be some kind of song, but just turned into a mush of snaps that didn’t sound much like anything but noise.

Ryan’s phone buzzes in his pocket before ringing, and he stiffens, ceasing his hand-drumming on the floor, but he does nothing to stop the ringing, he just lets it ring out until it stops naturally. Min looks over at him, and Kez still claps, but they’re softer now, making a different type of melody than she was previously. 

Ryan doesn’t look anywhere but down at his hands or up at the ceiling before sighing, slowly sitting up, standing up, and walking away. 

Min waits until Ryan’s far enough away before he turns his head to look at Kez, who’s still clapping, and asks:

“Is he… is he okay?” he doesn’t know what else to ask.

Kez stops clapping and smiles solemnly before sighing and turning her head to look at him.

“I don’t really… think it’s my place to say much,” is what she starts with, and Min thinks for a fleeting moment that it’s the only answer he’s going to receive. 

“But,” she purses her lips for a moment, closes her eyes before opening them again, “Ryan’s got some shit with his parents. Always has. I’m pretty sure it’s taking a toll on him right now.”

Min stays silent. He’s inferred from Ryan’s demeanor that he doesn’t have fond memories of his parents, but he doesn’t know much about it. He doesn’t really know what to do about it, either.

It’s almost as if Kez has just read his mind, because she says: 

“You can probably talk to him, y’know? If you want. I’m sure he’d talk to you about it if you ask nicely.” she jokes slightly, but there’s still a hint of a solemn smile on her face. “Besides, I think your palettes are forever intertwined now, so he’ll have to tell you at one point or another.”

Min rolls over on his back and looks up at the ceiling of the bus, thinking, pondering. He’s not really sure what he’s thinking about, though. Maybe it’s about how Ryan acted the same way he did now, this morning when he got a notification from his phone. Maybe it’s about what Kez just said, how their palettes are forever intertwined , or whatever, and maybe she’s right. 

He finally gets up from the floor and makes his way over to the kitchen — it’s the only place on the bus that’s somewhat private besides the bathroom; it has a sliding door that sometimes opens up when the bus takes a turn. 

On the other side of the sliding door is, of course, Ryan. He’s sitting at the table and staring down at his phone before clicking it off and sighing, not looking up until Min closes the door and catches his attention.

He opens his mouth to speak but doesn’t say anything, he just stares, and Min’s not sure what the stare means, but he’s not telling him to leave, so he walks over to the table and sits next to him. 

“Uh,” Ryan keeps looking at him, the same unreadable expression on his face, “Hi.”

Min’s face softens, “Hi.”

“You don’t, uh,” Min speaks again, hoping that the words Kez spoke earlier turn out to be true. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but, are you… alright?”

Ryan’s mouth mouths the word ‘oh’ before his eyes dart downwards, and he’s silent for a moment, and Min half-expects for him to just brush it off or deflect entirely.

He turns his head to look at the black screen of his phone that’s still in his hands, before he sighs and sets it down on the table. 

“It’s my parents.” he says quickly, like it’s something he’s wanted to get off of his chest but still has a hard time speaking about. “They called me today. Sent me a message about how my ‘rising fame’ could really ‘help your fellow Akagi’s rise up, too.’ And, like, I don’t… get it.” 

He falters before pausing to turn his head to look at Min, eyes seeming to say: I’ve said too much, haven’t I? And Min doesn’t know how to communicate it well, but he softens, smiles genuinely and nods, which he hopes Ryan reads as: No, keep going. 

Ryan smiles sheepishly and looks away before taking another inhale of breath and speaking, “They never cared about what I did, never called when I left. And now that they think it’ll benefit them they contact me every once in a while to try and get me to… do something for them. Like they’ve ever done anything for me. When they called for the first time, I answered because some part of me wanted so pathetically to get attention from them. But it wasn’t… right. It made me realize I was never meant to be enough for them, I guess.”

Ryan shrugs and considers speaking more for a moment, he takes a deep breath before he opens his mouth, “They actually contacted me after your critique circled around. It had been, like, a month since they called and I thought they finally gave up, but I guess they found joy in… I don’t know? Telling me I wasn’t doing enough? Kez blocked them a while back, but I don’t know why I decided to unblock them.” he laughs hollowly, and Min can feel the guilt fill up his chest again. 

“I’m sorry,” Min replies softly, and it sounds pathetic, not enough to repair any damages he’s made. “for the critique. I didn’t— I don’t… a lot of things have changed for me since I met you.”

Ryan smiles for the first time since he started talking,  and it makes Min’s entire body flutter like the wings of a delicate butterfly.

“Don’t be,” Ryan dismisses. “I’ve never… had a friend like you, and if you hadn’t written the article, I still wouldn’t. I guess a lot of things have changed for me since I met you.”

Min smiles back, but there’s still guilt that engulfs him. This is the first time Ryan’s ever mentioned his critique, and as much as he’s filled with guilt, a part of him is relieved that he finally knows how the critique actually impacted him. 

What he said to Ryan is true, since being on this tour, since becoming friends with both Kez and him, the way he sees things is a lot… different now. His feelings are different now, the feeling of envy that he had doesn’t feel much like envy anymore but something completely opposite of it. This brings him back to what Phoebe had said, what she had hoped he would understand and stop denying. 

Ryan gets up out of his seat and smiles warmly at Min — another red hue laced in even the actions he does — and walks out of the kitchen. He stares and internally facepalms himself.

And, maybe Phoebe was right about what she said. Maybe this feeling that he’s had towards Ryan, how often he speaks about him, the intricate details he notices and can’t help to document on paper, it’s not one that just stems from annoyance or envy or merely platonic interest.

Okay, so, maybe he has a crush on Ryan Akagi.

. . . 

As he lies awake in his small bottom bunk that he sleeps in practically every night — he wonders how he’s ever been able to do it, with Kez mumbling inaudible words and the sheer uncomfortableness of the bed — he can’t stop letting his mind race around in circles.

Like, okay, he’s aware now. Fully aware. He’s not sure how he didn’t realize it sooner, it’s all entwined between his actions. When he talked to Phoebe, she seemed so… sure of it, so sure she was right about the feelings Min had towards Ryan, and he didn’t understand. In the end, she was right, she was right about his feelings and right about how so full of denial he was. The fact that everything, all the pieces needed to get the full picture, were sitting right in front of him the entire time, so obvious, and he wonders who else is aware of it. Like, does Kez know? Does Ryan know?

It can’t be that big of a deal, though. He’s only ever had a crush on two people before, and both were fleeting, so this should probably be the same. It’s not like… he could do anything about it, anyways. Maybe they’ll talk after the tour ends, call or text until they drift away because of distance and busy schedules and that’ll be the end of everything — and it’s a sad ending when he thinks about it, but what else would be able to happen? Ryan’s a rapidly rising artist while Min is just an anonymous music critic. It’s the same passion, but drastically different worlds.

“Psst! Min!” he opens his eyes and furrows his eyebrows, not sure when he fell asleep.

“Huh?” he mumbles groggily, “What time is it?”

Ryan’s more awake than Min is, he’s wearing pajamas and his hair is slightly messy, but his glasses are on his face and the eyes underneath them are wide and warm. 

“Like, two in the morning or something, come on!” he tugs on Min’s hand. 

“What?” his tone is filled with disapproval, but it’s contradicted by him getting up and letting Ryan drag him away from the bed, “Where are we going?”

Ryan keeps walking over to the door of the bus, hand still holding Min’s, “Not far.”

He opens the door and lets go of Min’s hand to quietly close it. They’re parked in a practically empty parking lot, the only sound comes from unseen crickets.

Ryan moves to sit on the ground in front of the bus, rests his head on the side of it and looks up at the sky. It really isn’t far, and Min furrows his eyebrows in confusion before slowly moving to sit down next to him — not too far, but not too close.

He can feel his nervous heartbeat in his ears, and he takes a deep breath.

Ryan points up at the sky, “Look! That’s us, I think. Sagittarius.”

Min’s eyebrows furrow again, “How do you know?”

Ryan turns his head to look at him and smiles before tuning away to look back at the sky and shrugs. 

“Kez liked stargazing a lot back when we first met,” Ryan has a fond smile on his face as he looks up at the constellations, “I would always take my dad’s van at night and just drive away from home for a while, but I didn’t really have anywhere to go, so I’d call Kez and her solution was always stargazing. She’d go on about the constellations in the sky. We did it practically every night, and it was a million times better than staying in a house with my parents.”

Min’s smile turns solemn again, wishing there was more he could do about everything Ryan had going on with his parents. 

“They don’t deserve you,” is what he blurts out, and his cheeks get warmer, but he’s already in too deep to back out now. “They never did.” He speaks softer now.

Ryan’s expression is a combination of bewilderment and fondness. He shrugs bashfully.

“And what about yours?” Ryan sways the conversation away from himself, “Heroic Polonaise, huh?”

Min’s parents weren’t bad, and they’re nothing like Ryan's. they’re just… different from him. They wanted him to be successful in more of a smart and classy way, but he never wanted that. And they tried, with music, with piano lessons, he gives them the benefit of the doubt, because they’re anything but bad parents; they care about him and they’re trying their best. They just worry and they want him to be successful in the only way they know how. 

Min shrugs and turns his head away to look at the stars, “They’re good parents. They try their best, I know they do. They don’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do, but they have — had, I guess — expectations for me. To graduate top of my class, go to uni, major in finance, have a stereotypical family and live a familiar life.” 

He takes an inhale of breath, ponders on how his entire life has changed from even just working at Dumpty’s a little over two years ago, “And, well, now I’m here, I guess. My parents were scared at first, but they did their best to be supportive. They’re not perfect but they… they try.”

“They sound nice.” Ryan says, and Min turns his head to look at him. He’s still looking at the stars, a soft smile present on his face.

“They are,” is what he responds with, and he wishes Ryan could’ve gotten the same. He hopes, in a different life, they’re childhood friends, and Min and his parents take Ryan under their wing and give him what he deserves. “I was always scared to… let them down, I guess. I started questioning my sexuality and spending most of my time learning Elton John on the piano or writing another album review on my blog. It made me feel like, one day, I was going to let them down, like, one day I’d crumble under pressure and they’d be left disappointed. And it sounds stupid because… they aren’t.”

Min pauses. He’s not sure why he’s saying so much. And as he looks at Ryan, he says, “I think they’d like you.”

Ryan turns his head away from the stars to look at Min, his face softens — well, both of theirs do. 

“You think?” there’s a vulnerable look in Ryan’s eyes, a hint of timidness, a fear of doing the wrong thing.

“Yeah. I think so.”

And they smile, stare for a moment. Min begins to have a thought, about what Phoebe said, about what he’s just admitted to himself. 

He only begins to, because one moment, they’re only looking, and the next, they’re touching — their lips are touching, like, as in, they’re kissing.

It happens quickly, but yet it feels as if it’s all happening in slow motion. His previous thoughts drowned out by confusion and warmth that fills his entire being and even more confusion. He kisses back nonetheless, it’s all fuzzy and he’s just engulfed in the moment. His previous thoughts come back to him. 

Maybe there is something star-crossed about them. Well, they’re both born on the same day, in the same stupid small town in BC, same passion for aspects of music since childhood. Maybe there is something more to them, maybe their palettes are supposed to combine as the stars align. Maybe they’re always destined to do so, that in some parallel universe, they’re meeting as perpendicular lines, combining the reds and blues together, and continuing what the stars had always intended for them to do.

Their palettes are forever intertwined, like Kez said, and maybe it’s not supposed to be an unintentional thing. Maybe it’s what inevitably happens.

Chapter Text

Four months on and off of a tour bus continuously really does change a person — Min-Gi can confirm this. For starters, he’s made friends quicker than he ever imagined he could. He plays keyboard on stage in front of a crowd for fun — like, he genuinely enjoys doing it despite still being nervous before a show. Ryan calls it the “adrenaline juice.”

They all celebrated Kez’s birthday on the bus back in September. 

“Happy birthday to me!” she sang as she walked in the kitchen on the memorable day of September eighth, bowing while blowing into a party horn. 

And throughout the day, everyone who walked past her wished her a happy birthday, to which she would usually respond with a thank you, esteemed guest and bow. 

Ryan and the crew took time to make the stage birthday-themed for the occasion, covering the stage in balloons and streamers and Mark being forced to go to the nearest store and pick up a birthday banner. Ryan deeming it ‘absolutely necessary.’

Of course, Ryan takes time out of the show to bring Kez up onstage and have everyone wish her a happy birthday. Most of the crowd knew Kez, already knew it was her birthday, since most of the signs that were held up had something relating to her birthday. Everyone cheered, before Dazzle (Kez’s Song) started to fill the venue, with bells and all. 

Phoebe calls just about every day, usually to claim that Min is still in denial — and, no, he has not told her that her claims have turned out to be true. He just doesn’t want her to get a big head about it. 

He also hadn’t told her about the regular occurrences of when he goes onstage and plays keyboard for the last song on Ryan’s setlist — she had to find it out on her own when pictures started circling around after Kez’s birthday show. To be fair, it was never really a topic of conversation.

Phoebe 

[picture attachment]

and what??? were u never going to tell me about this??

 

Min-Gi

It never came up! 

 

Phoebe

oh but ryan’s ‘obnoxiously neat’ handwriting did???

 

Min-Gi

It was written down on my notepad, so technically.

 

Phoebe 

you’re so annoyingly stubborn have u professed your love for him yet

Love is a strong word that Phoebe throws around as if it’s not. Besides, he’s not in love with Ryan. They kissed one time and haven’t spoken a word about it since, nothing about that screams love — not that she’s aware of the kiss, but it’s fine. 

Min-Gi 

And how’s the album sorting going?

 

Phoebe 

dodging the question… sure, i’ll bite. it’s going shit everyone wants you to review taylor swift's new album! it’s been two months, please help

He’s very much aware of the high demand for his critiques to come back, four months without a review from NAT Prospect has made all of social media get… demanding. Stephen’s been trying to put a towel over the fire — well, he makes Phoebe make a post to assure everyone that NAT Prospect will be back once the ‘big project’ is over.

Phoebe

the internet kept talking about your ‘big project’ though, what they don’t know is all it is is just you being gay :/

 

Min-Gi

I think you’re more annoying than I am.

 

Phoebe

if u ever met yourself you’d beg to differ, i’m afraid :•)

It’s weird now, after months of playing the keyboard in front of an audience, having his face pop up every so often on the internet. Many people already know his name, and it’s weird, because he never thought anyone would. He’s always been NAT Prospect, someone unknown, hidden behind a pseudonym, and able to walk around without being recognized. 

And the tour is coming to an end soon. New York is approaching, and soon Min will be on a plane again, leaving all of what happened these past four months in the tour bus, where no one can find them. It’s bittersweet to think about it, to think about how before he went on this tour he was almost a different person than now. 

On a brighter note: he’d say he’s almost finished with the article. It only took him four months, but at least he’s going to finish before he gets back to work. 

On a darker note: going back to work. Don’t get him wrong, he loves writing the critiques, it’s what he’s always loved to do, but he can’t stop thinking about performing. When he’s up on stage playing Open Mic Night again, it never fails to come natural to him, he never fails to feel like he… belongs there. But, it’s silly to even think about it, to think about playing onstage for the rest of his life when his whole career is already here for him — writing critiques, listening to albums, having everyone care about his own opinion on them. It would be anyone’s dream, and who is he to even think about throwing that all away? Leaving behind NAT Prospect and everything he’s worked for? It’s childish and it’s… it’s just stupid.

And, yet again, on another note — a dark note, maybe, or just an annoying one. He can’t stop thinking about what happened between Ryan and him two months ago. There wasn’t anything decipherable that happened after the fact, they just let go and stared at each other like they couldn’t recognize the other. Then, they just turned their heads away in silence and stared at the stars again until Ryan broke the silence with something else, something that was a completely different subject, and they never spoke about it, ever. Never mentioned it when they were alone, never spoke about what any of it meant to either of them. They just pretended it didn’t exist — well, at least, they pretended it didn’t exist when they were around each other. Min is still aware of its existence, and is still finding himself thinking about it all too often. 

Maybe this means something. Maybe it means that what he thought was just going to be an ignorable, short-lived crush actually isn’t going to be like that at all. He never found himself overthinking when his prom date kissed him under the bleachers and then never followed up on it — or spoke to him. He never found himself overthinking when Alexander from his fucking math class pulled him behind a tree, kissed him, made him have some kind of revelation about his sexuality when he walked back home, and then proceeded to get a girlfriend the next week. But, yet, now as he’s been traveling on a tour bus with the guy who kissed him under the stars outside of it just two months ago, he’s overthinking it. 

. . .

“Well, you said your dream was to be in a band,” Ryan is on the floor of the bus, swaying slightly as the bus takes a turn. “So, is being a music critic living up to the expectation?”

Min leans his back against the couch and shrugs, “I mean, I guess? Being in a band was always just a dream. I never really saw it as an actual path I could take. But, I mean, being a music critic, working for CBC Radio. I didn’t even think of it until I got an email from them offering me the job.”

Ryan raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to go on, since he hasn’t really answered the question. It’s a complicated question, though. No, of course being a music critic is nothing compared to the feeling he gets when he plays keyboard on stage, but it’s not like he could get anything better.

He takes an inhale of air before speaking again, “It’s nice. I get paid to write and have people listen to my opinions on music, and no one knows it’s me so I don’t have to get recognized on the street or something, but…” He falters. He’s never said anything like this out loud before, let alone to a guy he’s known for four months and has a crush on, but whatever. “It should be a dream and, like, I shouldn’t be wishing for something better but in some ways I am. Playing music’s what I’ve always wanted to do, y’know? Of course it doesn’t compare.”

Ryan smiles reassuringly, like somehow he understands. It’s weird, but it makes him flutter again.

“Well,” he’s still smiling, filled with fondness and adoration as stars twinkle in his eyes, “We’ll have to make New York count, then. If it has to be your last.”

Min’s eyes widen, expression filling with… confusion? Bewilderment? He didn’t really expect that he was going to play at the New York show, since it was more of Ryan’s lifelong dream rather than his — though, it is a pretty nice dream to have and achieve.

“You really want me to play?” is what he asks. “I mean, it’s your dream show .”

Ryan laughs, “Of course I do. Wouldn’t be a good show without you. Also, you know the whole set, don’t you? I’m sure Isabel would appreciate it if you filled in for her — she doesn’t want carpal tunnel at the ripe age of ‘mid twenties.’”

“What? I mean- I guess?” Min stammers. 

Ryan laughs again and sits up from the floor, choosing to sit next to Min on the couch instead.

“I’ve always wanted to be in a band, too,” Ryan says, his hands fidgeting. “And being a solo artist is nice and all, but, I like that, y’know, I have someone to do it with that isn’t, like, the crew.”

He puts a hand on Min’s shoulder, his eyes starry, glowing bright and, Jesus, Min feels like he could practically melt under the gaze, under the touch of his soft but calloused fingertips, under the fact that he still wants to fucking kiss him. 

“So?” he smiles sheepishly, and that’s another thing that makes Min almost melt into a puddle of goo right on the floor. “You in? Going out in raging flames and with a big bang?”

Min smiles back and shakes his head, he can’t say no even if he wants to, not when all of this is happening. 

“Okay, yeah, sure. I’m in.”

He only gets a small glimpse of his eyes sparkling as his grin grows wider before he’s engulfed in a hug. His stomach does a flip and he feels the heat rush up to his cheeks — he’s surprised he hasn’t turned into a pile of goo already. 

. . . 

“You’re leaving us, Min!” Kez falls to his feet when she enters the tour bus kitchen in the morning. They’re in New York City now, driving to the last venue, and then he leaves. Takes a taxi to the airport and leaves, leaving everything behind. It’s funny how fast four months can go by. 

She gets up from the floor and puts both of her hands on his shoulders, “Expect a call from me daily, at least. Also, us — Ry-guy and I — and the crew are throwing ‘ya a farewell party. Well, technically it’s a farewell tour party, but Ryan and I requested the farewell Min part. Since, yanno, you’re not coming back.”

She sniffles dramatically and hugs him, “I’m gonna miss you so much, man!”

He smiles and hugs back as Kez sniffles — and he’s not sure whether it’s real or another fake one for dramatic effect. “I’ll miss you too, Kez.”

She pulls back, keeping her hands on his shoulders. Her eyes are glossy, so he guesses the second sniffle was actually a real one. 

“You better miss me.” she jokes, “I’m the best thing to ever happen to ‘ya.”

Ryan and him don’t exchange early goodbyes. Only time-appropriate hellos. Maybe it’s because they’re not ready to say goodbye yet, maybe it’s because they don’t want to think about the goodbyes until they actually have to. Maybe there’s only a need for last goodbyes between them.

Most of the crew actually doesn’t know much about why Min was even placed on this tour to begin with — the protocol was that only Ryan and Kez would be the ones who would be aware of the fact that he is the anonymous critic. But, still, no one asked any questions, at least not to the people who actually knew the answer. 

When he sits down, off-stage as usual, though, Isabel is the one to ask: So, you won’t be joining us for another tour? How’d you get saddled with us for only four months? 

Maybe he should’ve made up a fake story about the reasoning for why he’s here, like: oh yeah, Ryan and I go way back, newborn best friends until we drifted away. The only stories he made up were with Ryan, actually, on the tour bus, far-fetched and obviously fake: Vancouver, 2011, we met at a My Chemical Romance concert. I gave Min my spiked choker and we met again and he gave it back to me, a dream come true!

It’s not like most of the crew isn’t going to find out eventually. When Min posts his article about being on tour, they’re all obviously going to know it’s him. He just doesn’t really want to explain… everything. Not right now, anyways.

“My main man Min here,” Kez replies and slings her arm around Min’s shoulders, “He’s writing an article about how cool we are and how we’re his favorite people ever, so stay tuned, Isa!”

Isabel just furrows her eyebrows in sheer confusion and walks away to adjust more of the sound equipment.

Ryan’s back not long after that, wearing an outfit he can recognize all too well — the tan pants, brown almost black heeled boots, the fucking red blazer , all doused in red hues. How was he so unaware of his feelings for Ryan when he literally saw him in this fucking outfit? He’s going to disintegrate into nothing on the floor right this second. He’s not joking.

“I know you’ve already seen it before,” Ryan says, spinning around and almost losing balance. “But you liked it before, didn’t you? Thought I’d bring it back!”

It’s almost like… Ryan is aware of how flushed his cheeks get when he wears that fucking outfit and he’s not sure whether to get embarrassed or annoyed. 

“Yeah, it’s a nice one.” he replies tightly, trying to be nonchalant about it. 

Ryan smirks back and spins again, “Well, I’ll see you onstage in a second. All or nothing! Going down in raging flames and with a big bang here we come!”

Being onstage for the entire duration of the show is a lot different from coming on before the last song. It’s more nerve-racking but somehow much more exciting. Yes, he does know how to play most of the songs on the setlist, but it’s also not that hard to improvise on the parts he’s not sure about, and Ryan’s the only one who really notices the improv — and he always shoots Min a wide grin filled with fondness when he does, so he likes doing improv now. And, again, more things are changing. He’s never played a full show before, never been right in the action the entire time, never actually enjoyed doing improv on the piano. 

When the show ends and Ryan does the ending he always does, the one where he intertwines his hand with Min’s and bows. It’s the only time he gets to remember how he is still ready to melt into a puddle of nothing on the floor because of… just Ryan, really. 

. . .

“So, where is this party exactly?” Min asks as they walk back to the busses.

“Here!” Kez gestures towards the crew’s bus. “Party bus!”

Min’s not really one for parties, and he doesn’t know anyone in the crew besides Mark and Isabel — and he still doesn’t know them very well.

“Don’t worry,” Kez slings an arm around his shoulders. “We won’t be here long. The crew doesn’t really like to stay up late, got a lot of shit to do in Mark’s words. I’m just here for the cake and decorations I requested because this is your farewell party.”

“I thought you said technically it’s a farewell tour party .” Min teases as they walk towards the door. Ryan knocks on it.

“That’s everyone else’s intention.” she flicks her wrist dismissively. “Not mine.”

“Oh, hi guys.” Mark is the one who opens the door. “We’ve got an hour until we wrap up, so make it count.”

“Come on!” Kez grabs both Ryan and Min by the hands, “Time to add some life to this party!”

The hour that they spend there goes by fast and hazy. When they first walked in, there was a banner that said farewell! and underneath it was six pieces of printer paper, each one with a large bubble letter — plus a hyphen — that spelled out his name. Kez cheered when she saw it, Ryan did too, delayed because he didn’t see the banner until a minute or two after Kez did, but it was still nice, and it still made his heart race and his stomach flutter.

There was a cake on the table, half-eaten, covered in blue, red, and purple frosting with the words farewell! written again on the cake.

And, even in a room filled with people, he can’t stop himself from gravitating towards Ryan. He just can’t stop looking, and he’s not sure he ever did stop, because he always finds himself staring even when he doesn’t intend to. Maybe it’s the star-crossed thing or the forever combined color palettes, but, honestly, he knows it’s just his feelings, the ones that haven’t gone away yet. The ones that make him want to do what they did outside the bus and under the stars two months ago. 

He doesn’t stop thinking about it when they leave the crew’s bus and walk back to their own, and he doesn’t stop thinking about it when they pass by the same side of the bus that they sat at two months ago, the same place where they did the fucking… kissing thing that they haven’t mentioned.

Kez immediately falls asleep in her bed when they enter, so it’s just the two of them now — plus Kez’s sleep mumbling, one of the only things he probably won’t miss.

“So,” Ryan speaks through the silence, and it makes Min jump at the sound of his voice. “What’d you think? About your last show?”

Something about the way he says it makes Min realize how bittersweet it all is. How this really is the last show he’ll ever get the opportunity to play at, how this is the last time he’ll ever be on a tour bus with Ryan and Kez. He’ll go back to work and probably review another album of his once he releases one and Stephen will give him a pat on the back for the change of opinion, but nothing else will change. It’ll just be a fond memory he has that’ll eventually turn into a hazy dream. 

He wants to reply with something that lightens the mood, makes it so that they don’t have to feel disappointed that everything is coming to a close quicker than they want it to, but he doesn’t. He can’t. 

“Yeah,” Min sighs, but smiles. “Think we really did go out in raging flames.”

“And with a big bang,” Ryan finishes, but it doesn’t sound as energetic as the times he’s said it before. He looks down at his fidgeting hands, like he’s debating on whether to say something else.

“Are you done with the article?” is what he asks, and it sounds like he’s trying to avoid having another conversation.

Min nods anyways, it’s not like he wants to talk about leaving, or the kiss, or his feelings towards Ryan. “Mhm. Only took me four months.”

Ryan smiles, and it looks sadder than he probably intends for it to be. Min smiles back, and he’s sure it’s probably the same.

This whole trip was an unplanned one, one that he didn’t have time to figure out every detail of or rule out possibilities. He was just forced on a plane to Montreal to meet Ryan Akagi — a musician whose music he had just written and brutal critique of — and his manager, eccentric Kez. He just… he never thought it would turn into this. Into a trip where he would make two close friends, develop a crush, share a kiss said crush at two in the morning on some day in August, and play keyboard in front of an audience at multiple live shows. 

“Are you,” Ryan speaks again, looking down at his hands. “Are you relieved? To go back, I mean.”

Relieved, well, not exactly. He’s relieved he won’t have to look at Ryan’s face in the flesh anymore and keep having the urge to want to kiss him again or get that weird fluttery feeling every time he sees him. But, no, not really, he’s not relieved to be going back. He’d stay if he had the option to, if he was able to. Min-Gi Park from a little over four months ago would not believe he’s having the thoughts he’s having right now.

Min shrugs in response before deciding to answer in words, “I don’t know. Not really. I like my job, I mean, it’s not like I could land a better one. I think some part of me is still… holding on to the dreams I had as a child. I guess it’s kind of stupid.”

Ryan furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. “No, it’s not. It’s not stupid. I… I get it, kind of.”

Min smiles in response, because he probably doesn’t get it as much as he thinks he does, and that’s okay. He doesn’t have to. He’s a rising artist with an album that most people actually enjoy, hell, he even got NAT Prospect to change his opinion on the album — and that never happens. Maybe a few months ago he would’ve been annoyed by it, but he’s figured out that he admires it, it’s one of the many things about Ryan that he… likes. 

“I am going to miss this,” is what Min says aloud. “Like, all of it. I had never been to a concert before this, but… it was nice.”

They smile at each other again, and he’s thinking about it again, regressing back to the early hours under the starry August sky. They could do it again, never speak about it again, just one last goodbye.

“You don’t have to leave,” Ryan blurts and closes his mouth quickly, like he didn’t mean to say anything.

Min furrows his eyebrows, not exactly sure what emotion he’s feeling, “What?”

Ryan takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and looks down at his fidgeting hands before opening his mouth to explain. 

“I mean, like, I know you’ve got your… life to get back to, writing your critiques but… I was just thinking…” he takes another breath of air, “I mean, you know Heroic Polonaise at the top of your head and I’ve seen you on stage and you said…”

Ryan tries to pick his head up and look at Min instead of his hands, but he fails and sighs before speaking again. 

“What I’m trying to say is… you should join me, us . We can be, like, a band, and we can do it together .”

Ryan’s looking at Min now, a hint of a smile on his face, but he mostly just looks anxious, like he’s hoping he didn’t say the wrong thing.

And Min is taken aback by all of it. Okay, yeah, he knows what he thought earlier, how he would stay if he had the option to, and the option is right here, like, Ryan is literally offering it to him. 

But, he can’t. He can’t be in a band with fucking Ryan Akagi , he can’t leave behind what he’s been doing since he was sixteen, he can’t leave behind his Toronto apartment. He’s got something stable, a job in music at CBC Radio that anyone would probably kill to have, he can’t just… leave it behind to pursue a childhood dream. Especially not to pursue it with someone who he can’t stop thinking about kissing. 

“Ryan, I- I can’t.” Min can’t look him in the face, so he doesn’t. “I work at a radio station, everyone’s still waiting for me to review albums and I can’t… I can’t just leave it behind.”

He feels the guilt rush back to him again, the guilt that’s been in the back of his mind ever since he joined the tour, ever since he got close to Ryan. 

“Why would you even want me to?”

“What?” Ryan’s face falls. “Of course I want you to. You’re my… you’re my friend. I care about you.”

Min shakes his head, “Why do you even want to be? I mean, you said it yourself that my critique hurt you. And, I just, I don’t understand.”

Ryan lets out a breathily, slightly hollow laugh, “Min. I like you, like…” he says the next words barely above a whisper, “Did you think the kiss meant nothing?”

Min’s eyes widen, they haven’t spoken about it at all, and he didn’t expect them to ever talk about it. He doesn’t know how to feel about anything anymore.

“Then what the fuck did it mean?” he didn’t mean for his reply to be… upset but in some ways he is, and he doesn’t know the exact reasoning for why. 

“It means I fucking like you, Min!” he sighs. “It obviously means I fucking like you. That’s why I want you to stay.”

And he doesn’t know what to say or how to feel. He knows he can’t stay, can’t be a part of a band with Ryan and leave behind what he’s done since he was sixteen, can’t leave behind his stable job and his relatively nice apartment in Toronto. What? So he can risk it all to join a band with Ryan? The guy who kissed him two months ago, the guy he can’t stop thinking about kissing, the guy who just admitted to him that he likes him too.

Min sighs, because he’s overwhelmed, because he doesn’t know what to say, because he doesn’t know which emotion he should be feeling over the others.

“And I don’t get why.” Guilt, he guesses. Ryan’s still the guy that he hurt with his review, that’s how it started, and he doesn’t want it to end that way, either. “I felt… joy in writing that critique about you, in turning my feelings towards you that I didn’t understand into something negative, in finding things I admired about you and turning them against you because I didn’t want to admit to myself that I…” he falters. 

He sighs again, speaks again, “I can’t stop thinking about it.” Ryan’s face falls again. “When I came here, I didn’t expect to make friends, I didn’t expect to get close, I didn’t expect that I was going to play onstage, and I didn’t expect that I was actually going to miss anything. I thought I was going to just get through however fucking long I was meant to be here for, and go back home and be fucking fine .”

“Min-“ Ryan starts to speak, but Min cuts him off, or maybe he just doesn’t know what exactly to say — a combination of both, probably.

“My opinion on music rarely ever changes,” Min’s said this before. “And, I find myself every single day when I’m with you… changing, and I don’t know how to feel about it. If it’s supposed to be good or if it’s supposed to be bad. What I do know is that I have to go back and publish this article that I’ve been working on for the past four months because… I just have to.”

“Min,” Ryan is speaking now, thankfully. “I know what I said about the critique and, okay, yeah, it made me doubt myself and maybe it made my parents remember how slightly relevant I’m becoming but… Min, I don’t care about the critique anymore. I didn’t know you and you didn’t know me, and now, we’re in this together. Aren’t we?”

“I-“ he knows what he wants to say, and he knows what he wants to do, deep down he always has, but, “I can’t. I’m going back. I’m publishing this stupid fucking article and I’m…”

“But I know you don’t want to!” Ryan’s trying so hard, and it takes everything in him not to take the risk and just stay, just do what he’s wanted to do since they did it two months ago. “You can’t just… settle for something less. Not when you deserve better.”

“Ryan, please,” he feels like he’s pleading for his life right now. “I can’t. I just fucking can’t.”

And everything is silent. 

Chapter Text

Min-Gi and Ryan don’t speak after that. 

Min leaves early, gets to the airport early, and hopes that with time everything that happened will just feel like a dream when he remembers it.

He comes into work bright and early the next morning, and Phoebe greets him with a hug when she spots him.

She lets go and speaks, “You look gayer than usual. Four months really does a lot to you.”

Min rolls his eyes in response and tries not to think too deeply into what she said — it’ll just eventually make him think about his feelings, the last day of tour, the euphoria and the loss. He’d just like to go back to his normal routine, nothing more, nothing less.

“Well,” she speaks again, which interrupts any thoughts Min might be having, thankfully, “Stephen’s in there waiting for you, but, and I warn you, this week seems to be the week where he’s ordering triple-shot mocha lattes, so please beware.”

Usually, Stephen plus sugar and caffeine do not mix — actually, they never mix — but on some occasions, Stephen decides to grace the entire office with the weeks where he orders a triple-shot mocha latte, which usually makes him at least fifty times less bearable than usual. 

“Mr. Park!” Stephen is cheerful when he walks in the room, a contrast to the last time he was in his office. “First of all, welcome back! Second of all, after reading your article, I am pleased to know that the tour really did change your opinion, so you’re all clear!”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Min blinks, he wasn’t expecting to enter his office without him having at least one thing to say. “Thank you.”

Stephen speaks again as Min walks to the door — and he had plenty of time to speak while he was standing in front of his desk, he just seems to like making things more dramatic than they need to be. “You can publish it right away, and, please start with Taylor Swift’s recent album. The amount of messages I am getting is making my head hurt.”

And he’s back to routine now, after he published the article, most of his time is now dedicated to finishing all the albums that came out over the past four months that he still needs to review. His head is mostly filled with albums that are mostly mediocre and forgettable — and maybe it doesn’t have to be, but it’s better than thinking about anything else.

Phoebe’s response to Min’s article was just her saying: Aww, it’s sweet, like a love note. It makes his skin crawl, it doesn’t flutter anymore, not like it used to, and it just feels colder now.

Ryan and him haven’t spoken, which wasn’t the original plan. They planned on being in contact, on hanging out again, and it had become something Min looked forward to even before he left, but now it’s just radio silent. Maybe it’s better that way. 

Kez mostly texts him, usually sending a picture of… something — an animal, a bell, photos that she ‘stole from Twitter.’ Talking to Kez is the only change in his Toronto routine, his normal routine, his ‘without Ryan’ routine. 

November, 28th, 2019. Min-Gi Park’s twenty-first birthday. Ryan Akagi’s twenty-first birthday. Of course he didn’t forget it, it’s not like it’s been a long time since he was on the tour bus with him, and, besides, it’s hard to forget, anyways. 

Kez is actually the first to wish him happy birthday, at exactly midnight — and when he replies when he wakes up, she immediately calls him to say it again. She doesn’t mention Ryan, and some part of him wants to ask, but he doesn’t. 

Mostly everyone he interacts with in the office acknowledges his birthday in some way, hell, even Stephen comes out of his office just to say happy birthday. And, he should be happy, happy that he didn’t completely fuck up his job, happy that everyone still likes NAT Prospect and that the article he wrote about Ryan is getting so much positive attention, but he’s not. He’s not because he can’t stop thinking about… everything. How Ryan and him had planned to spend at least a small amount of time together on their birthdays, how he still remembers his face, still has the feelings, still has the desire to do what he’s wanted to do since it occurred between them in August. A new addition to all of that is the guilt, the lack of contact, the routine that he’s now hyper-aware of the fact that it isn’t the same anymore. There’s no magic to writing critiques anymore, and he’s not sure there really ever was, because playing onstage, with Ryan, intertwined hands as they bow to a cheering crowd — that felt more magical than anything he’s ever done in his entire pathetic fucking life. And, God, it makes him feel pathetic, makes him sound pathetic.

His parents called when he arrived back home, and it was mostly a distraction. They asked how work was, how everything was, and he spoke, skipping over the four months — it’s too much to explain, too much to get into, still something he doesn’t want to let out of its cage. Not yet, anyways, but probably not ever.

And, for the remainder of the night, he opens up his messages, stares down at Ryan’s contact picture and has an internal battle with himself about whether or not he should say something. It’s not like it’s hard to say happy birthday to someone, it just is when him and that someone’s last interaction was more of a sad argument that ended in silence and him slipping away while everyone was asleep without a last goodbye. 

He shouldn’t even be thinking about it. He made his decision, and he chose the simple life of being a popular, anonymous music critic, making a pretty decent paycheck, living in a nice apartment in Toronto. He didn’t choose to join a band with his crush — who likes him back, by the way, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it or what to do about it, so he doesn’t even want to get into all of that. He didn’t choose the life of risk and performing. He chose to run the same fucking blog he’s been running for five years. 

A knock on his apartment door is the only thing that takes him out of his daze. He gets up to open the door, and he’s highly aware that he probably looks rough right now. He feels it, too.

It’s Phoebe, holding a small, store bought cake with candles on top of it.

“Shit,” she squints her eyes, “You look rough. Are you alright?”

He shrugs and moves slightly, inviting her inside. She sets the cake on the kitchen counter as he closes the door before speaking again.

“Seriously,” she has a genuine look of concern on her face. She still doesn’t know about… anything, really. Not about how he left, or his crush on Ryan, — well, she does, he just still has yet to confirm it — or the kiss. “Are you okay? You can talk to me, you know? I’m here to listen.”

He’s silent for a moment, and he wants to tell her, he does, but he’s embarrassed, or guilty, or… he doesn’t know. He feels like he’s grieving over someone who isn’t even dead yet. 

“What flavor is the cake?”

She turns around and looks at the cake, “Vanilla, obviously.” she looks back at him. “I’ll give you a slice now if you tell me?”

He shrugs, but nods.

So, he tells her everything, — pausing momentarily during parts of it while he eats the slice of cake she gave him — about how close they got, about how he’s pretty sure he’s had a crush on Ryan for longer than he likes to admit, how they kissed back in August, the pathetic argument they had and how Ryan admitted to him that the feelings were, in fact, requited. 

She blinks, like she’s just been hit in the face with a lot of information that she needs to process — and she has, and she does. 

“What the fuck.”

Min just shrugs, keeps eating his slice of cake. 

She shakes her head, “What the fuck, Min.”

He shrugs defensively, not exactly sure what she’s thinking. He makes a noise, since his mouth is filled with cake. 

“I think you’re a fucking idiot.”

He swallows, “What?”

“So, the guy you have the burning desire to kiss again,” she starts. “The guy you have a crush on , just admitted to you that he likes you and you… leave?”

Min groans, “What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t stay. I had work to get back to, critiques to write!”

“And, let me say it again, you’re an idiot.”

“This isn’t helping,” he groans again.

“You not denying it just means you agree.” Phoebe’s right, but he still doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about it.

He puts his head in his hands, “Just tell me what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Phoebe sighs and puts a hand on his shoulder, “Min, I can’t tell you what you want. But, what I do know, is that you’ve been writing critiques since you were what? Sixteen years old? And while you were doing that, all you wanted was someone who shared your passion for music.”

Min looks up at Phoebe, taking his head out of his hands. She’s smiling reassuringly and opens up her phone, scrolling before showing him a picture. It’s from Kez’s birthday show, the first time he played Dazzle (Kez’s Song) . He’s smiling, in the moment, full of life and magic and change. He can barely even recognize himself.

“When I saw this picture,” she sets her phone on the table. “You look different here. And, look, I’m not the one who should be judging how you feel about it, but you look… happier. You look like someone who belongs there.”

Min sighs, because she’s right, because there’s still a voice in his head that’s telling him, “I can’t do that. I can’t… leave behind NAT Prospect. And I can’t just… leave on a whim.”

She sighs back, “I think it’s okay for you to take a risk, if it means doing something that makes you happier. I mean, do you really want to keep being NAT Prospect for the rest of your life? Is that what you’re passionate about?”

He thinks back to what he said to Ryan: it should be a dream and, like, I shouldn’t be wishing for something better but in some ways I am. And he thinks back to what Ryan said to him: You can’t just… settle for something less. Not when you deserve better.

His entire life has been based on the fact that he’d never be given the opportunity to do what he wanted to. Before CBC Radio, before NAT Prospect gained traction, his entire life had been laid out for him. Go to a nice university, study finance, live a boring but familiar and financially stable life. Everything changed when he received the email, everything changed when he chose his desires over his parents.

But, yet, everything is starting to be the same as it was. He’s stopping himself from taking a risk that he knows full well he wants to take, just so he can keep a steady paycheck, keep a steady life, stay with what he knows well already. 

The whole point of him moving halfway across Canada so he could work for CBC Radio was so that he wouldn’t have to be living a life of familiarity, so he could finally take that one risk and do what he wanted to. And as he looks deeper into himself he realizes that he’s still seeking a life of familiarity, one where he works at the same office, with the same boss, on the same blog he’s been writing on since he was sixteen, keeping the same opinions and forever being never-changing. 

The four months he spent on tour with both Kez and Ryan taught him something, about risk, about being spontaneous, about change . Had he not taken a risk, he wouldn’t have played onstage with Ryan, he wouldn’t have known what it felt like to have magic run through his veins as he played keyboard in front of a crowd. And he changed, a lot, and some part of him was scared of it, but it was exciting, and it was fulfilling, and it wasn’t familiar, but it felt more like living .

He sighs, because he doesn’t want to run anymore, because he already has. He ran from change and back in the arms of the comfortable familiarity of his life here in Toronto. There’s nothing he can really do about it now. He can’t go back, not after how he left, and he still doesn’t know how to leave NAT Prospect behind, or CBC Radio.

“There’s nothing I can do about it now.” he responds with as he picks at the crumbs of cake left on his plate with his fork. “I already left. 

“So, what?” Phoebe crosses her arms, “You’re just going to avoid him forever?”

Min shrugs, “What else can I do? There’s not exactly a lot of options anymore.”

Phoebe groans, but smiles mischievously after doing so. 

“You leave that all to me.”

. . .

It’s almost been two months. Two months since he left, two months since he published the article, two months of Ryan and him not speaking. 

He wishes he could’ve been a different person in that moment. He could’ve surrendered and agreed, or he could’ve admitted to himself that he didn’t need to go back to a familiar life of something he doesn’t have a passion for anymore. He didn’t do either of those things. He’s still here, writing critiques and alone in his apartment. It’s familiar, but he realizes how dull it all is, how he’s not really living, just going through the motions. 

There’s a knock on his door and he knows for a fact that it’s Phoebe, and he doesn’t want to hear another one of her speeches about how he should just contact Ryan, give him a call or a text. He’s not going to, because he’s embarrassed, because he’s sure Ryan’s taken back his confession and is looking for someone who isn’t boring and who actually is willing to take risks — and that person sure isn’t him.  

He hears a groan after his door closes, and his head jolts up. It’s Phoebe.

“All you’re doing is laying down on the couch?” she crosses her arms. “I’ll just barge in all the time, then.”

He furrows his eyebrows and sits up, “How’d you even… get inside?”

“You gave me a spare key?” she pauses, and he doesn’t remember doing that. “Okay, well, I asked you after a work night out, you were kinda…” She makes a gesture with her hands.

“Anyways,” she switches the subject. “I came here for a reason.”

Min raises his eyebrows.

She takes out her phone and wiggles it before sitting down next to him on the couch, “I’m gonna be your Zahra!”

“My what?” 

“Like, in Red, White, and Royal Blue?” she furrows her eyebrows. “When she calls and gets Henry on the phone… have you not read that? You’re gay, right?”

Min shakes his head, “So, what’s your point here?”

“The point is: you’re miserable and I can tell.” Phoebe replies. “And I’ve been trying every day for a month to get you to do anything, so I have concluded that I should not ask, only do.”

She quickly scrolls on her phone, and it takes him a second to understand what she’s doing — despite her kind of already explaining what she’s been planning on doing. And, he is definitely not ready to speak to Ryan, not after everything. He couldn’t even send him a happy birthday text.

“Hi Kez!” Phoebe says once the phone is to her ear. Her and Kez have hit it off quite well, actually, and they talk almost every day he assumes. He’s pretty sure that’s just how Kez is, easy to get along with, easy to gravitate towards — and, maybe Ryan, too, but he thinks it’s probably only like that for him. He’s the only one getting attached here. 

He’s not paying attention to what they’re speaking about, and he only starts paying attention once her phone is being shoved into his face.

He puts the phone up to his ear hesitantly, because he’s scared about what — or who — is on the line. He mouths: What?

Phoebe makes a phone gesture with her hand: ‘Talk’, she mouths back.

“Hello?” he chokes out, and he’s nervous, and he’s probably sweating.

“Oh, hi Min!” it’s Kez. “Sorry, uh, I’m getting him now. Phoebe is very demanding, it’s kinda nice.”

Min groans lightheartedly, he’s just glad he didn’t have to hear his voice right at this moment — he’d probably implode, maybe explode, or both. Who’s to know. “Jeez, Kez.”

Phoebe’s face fills with impatience, and Kez is right, she is demanding. Min also knows with great certainty that, one, Ryan will probably not be too thrilled to hear from him of all people, and, two, that this conversation won’t fix anything. And–

“Uh, hello?” it’s Ryan this time, speaking shakily, and he is not prepared at all. He tenses, and he might be sick. 

“Uh, hi.” he responds back with, and it just sounds so pathetic and stupid and desperate and wrong. He can’t just come back in with a hi, not after what he did.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says it, and it’s still pathetic. “This was Phoebe’s idea. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry. I’ll just-“

“Min.” Ryan says, and it sounds bittersweet coming from him, mostly filled with uncertainty and… longing. “It’s okay.”

Phoebe gets up and walks away, leaving him alone, with his thoughts, his guilt, Ryan.

They breathe in time, and he’s not sure if their breathing synced together naturally or if it’s just always been that way. 

“I saw the article,” Ryan speaks again, and it’s shaky still. “I- um. It was nice. Thanks.”

It’s so awkward now, so full of unexplored tension. It’s almost worse than the times when they only spoke three words to each other, or when they didn’t speak at all.

His article was definitely filled with admiration, infatuation, even. It wasn’t really… time-appropriate. He still means every word of it, it’s just that… it feels different now. And he knows it’s his fault.

My critique of his debut album, My Oeuvre is about as brutal as the review I made of Abbey Road back in 2015 — my opinion of that album hasn’t changed, not since I first listened to it, and it won’t. So, this article is less about how Ryan Akagi’s debut album has grown on me immensely since embarking on his first tour, but more about how everything I previously knew changed since meeting Ryan Akagi.

Like a love note , Phoebe had said. And, yeah, he guesses in some ways it is. Which means it was absolutely shit timing for him to post that after he just left, didn’t respond much to the reciprocation of feelings, he just fucking left. 

“Yeah. I meant what I said in it.” he lets out a breath, “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. About leaving and… for being a coward.”

Ryan inhales, talks on an exhale, “Min, you’re not–“

A sad smile creeps on Min’s face. “It’s okay. I am. And I…” he shouldn’t be saying all of this. “I should’ve stayed. You were right. About everything. And I blew it and I’m sorry.”

“Min, I-“ he pauses and sighs in defeat. “You didn’t. And I get it, well, I get it as much as I can, but… you can come back anytime. I’m here when… when you’re ready.”

And his stomach flutters again, it’s back again. It’s warmer and it’s like the stars are aligning again, being put back where they belong. 

“I’m sorry about not… responding to what you said.” he felt a surge of confidence rush through him, but it’s gone now, but the damage is done already. “I just-“ 

Ryan cuts him off, and maybe it’s a good thing, since he’s not exactly sure what he would’ve said. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.” he says it quickly, full of vulnerability, full of the fear of getting turned down, and some part of him wants to just say it now, tell him that he won’t be turned down. He won’t be because of fucking course he feels it too. How could he not?

But, he doesn’t. 

“Happy birthday,” he says instead, as if it’s not a month late. “I didn’t get to say it before.”

Ryan chuckles, and it’s familiar and magical and it makes his entire body flutter — the butterfly is back again. 

“Happy birthday to us , you mean.”

And it’s back to almost normal now. They talk until Phoebe gets annoyed and takes her phone back before leaving. They call again, not using Phoebe nor Kez’s phone to, because they can, because they’re talking again. 

There’s a moment of silence between them, and they’ve been talking for hours on end. To be fair, it has been a while.

Ryan speaks to break the silence, “So, yeah. If you, uh… change your mind, I’m, uh, always here. Or if you don’t.”

“I meant what I said,” Min replies. “You were right. I don’t want to. I like what we did.”

He’s referencing more than just playing onstage, and some part of him hopes Ryan can catch on to that.

“Yeah, I-“ he pauses. “Me too. So… are you actually coming back?”

Min inhales. Everything in him wants to, and every part of him knows he should, “Not now, but… soon.”

Ryan’s more giddy after he says that, but they don’t mention it much after that. He wants to go, and he knows he should, because everyone’s telling him to, because he wants to. The magic and the fluttering and just how right it feels, he knows he can’t say no anymore.

But, he wants to take the time to think about it. He wants to take another month to make a decision, not about leaving, per-say, but about how he’s going to leave. He can’t just… do it all at once. He’s got to at least give everyone a heads-up. He should do that. 

. . . 

He doesn’t need a fucking month.

He’s outside of Stephen’s door right now, and maybe he should be putting his two weeks in, maybe he should be giving him a heads-up — he did tell Ryan that it would be ‘soon’, so soon can mean two weeks, right? — but, God, all he wants to do right now is be spontaneous for just one moment of his life. Besides, he said soon, but he can’t wait for soon. He’s been waiting for two months, he’s been doing this whole fucking thing for almost five years, and he doesn’t want to do it anymore. It’s time for the world — and CBC Radio, and Min — to kiss NAT Prospect goodbye forever.

“Min?” Phoebe’s holding a coffee, a triple-shot mocha latte, for Stephen. He’s not going to miss these weeks at all. “Hi?”

Min grins, wide and filled with every possible emotion anyone could ever feel. It’s hard to pinpoint one of them. “Hi.”

She raises her eyebrows and speaks slowly, “What are you doing?”

Min’s still grinning. “Being spontaneous.” 

He opens the door to Stephen’s office and Phoebe quickly follows.

And, he quits. He’s got the widest grin on his face as he does so, and Stephen’s just confused — What? Where is all of this stemming from?  

Phoebe looks at him like a proud mother, like she’s never been prouder of anything in her entire life — Someone’s following their dreams, and their star-crossed lovers trope . 

Stephen’s a weird man, a weird man who drinks his mocha latte as the widely beloved anonymous critic NAT Prospect announces the day of, that he’s quitting forever and never coming back. He was confused at first, but he lets it happen nonetheless — Sure, kid. I said have your fun! Just know that I’m the one who brought you together. Give me some credit, at least, or an invite to the wedding?

Min has no time to get into all of what he said to him, about weddings or bringing people together. All he can think about is catching the next train to Montreal and changing soon into now .

“Hi.” he says as soon as she answers. “Can you pick me up from the train station in, like, five hours?”

“What?” Kez replies groggily, “It’s eight in the morning. What’s with the early call?”

“Can you?” He's impatient, nervous, running on adrenaline. 

“Yeah, okay, sure.” she yawns. “Only if you tell me what exactly you’re trying to do here.”

He thinks about his article again, for just a moment.

Ryan Akagi is more than just a musician. He’s someone who’s passionate and someone who’s inspiring in more ways than one. And, that’s why, he’s an enigma. 

It’s like something a small child would write while staring at their crush on the playground. But, he means it, he means it when he says it’s all true. 

The train stops, and he stares at the entrance. He can.

And he will.

“I’m coming back.”

Chapter Text

Five hours alone on a train really helps someone reminisce on what they’ve just done. Min just walked into his job of almost three years and quit — as a spur of the moment decision, might he add — so he could take a last minute train back to Montreal to tell the boy he’s known for four months and has a hopeless crush on that he’s going to join his band. And, maybe some part of him is scared, but not about the fact that he’s now unemployed. 

Kez is waiting impatiently when he gets off of the train, rubbing her hands together. Her face lights up when she spots him. 

“Just couldn’t be without us for too long, eh?” she opens her arms out for a hug and quickly wraps them around him. 

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” he jokes and reciprocates her gesture.

“Oh, yeah?” she lets go of the hug, “So, is there a specific reason you didn’t want me to tell Ryan about this?” she smirks.

Min’s cheeks turn red instantly — well, part of the reason why was because he wanted to surprise Ryan, but mostly (and pathetically) he was scared to see him in person again. And sure, they talked on the phone after the argument, but he can’t help still being nervous. About the confession that he didn’t really get to comment on, about starting a band with him. It’s all so new and he’s definitely in too deep to back out of it now.

So, Kez takes him to her apartment, they don’t mention the spur of the moment train ride or how Min got there in the first place on a weekday. They speak about something that’s meaningless until the doors of her apartment are closed. 

Her apartment is very… her. The walls are covered in posters and pictures of her and Ryan, pictures of her and bells, and in a corner of the living room, there’s a pile of music-related stuff: drumsticks, headphones, a microphone. Her apartment somehow emulates her entire train of thought — and somehow it’s comforting and expected.

“So, uh,” Kez opens one of her kitchen cabinets, pulling out a grey mug that reads: World’s Hottest Manager. “does ‘ not now, but soon’ mean a day later or…” 

She pours water in the mug before setting it in the microwave.

Min sighs, and only responds with, “Sorry. I didn’t really… expect it to be so soon.”

Kez takes the mug out of the microwave and quickly places a tea bag inside of it. She’s silent for a moment, just watching the water in the mug turn to tea. And she’s still silent when he picks up the mug and walks over to sit on her couch next to Min. 

She takes a slow sip of her tea and clears her throat. “What’s your, like, goal here?”

Min turns his head to look at her, furrows his eyebrows in the process. 

“I mean, like,” she takes another sip. “If you just wanna start a band with him and stay friends, that’s okay, but you’re kinda being really misleading here, man.”

Min just blinks in sheer confusion.

She takes another sip and sets her mug down on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

“I’m saying this as both of your friends,” she starts, and Min is still lost. “Like, your article is extremely misleading if your feelings towards him are strictly platonic. It was like a love letter, man!”

Her voice softens, gets less dramatic and more sincere, “Look. I’ve been friends with Ryan since we were sixteen, and, like, I've never seen him feel this way about anyone before. I just… I care about him, man, and I hope you do too.”

Min blinks in disbelief, “Wait, what?”

Kez furrows her eyebrows, “What do you mean ‘what’? I just made a very heartfelt speech that should’ve resonated with you!”

Min lets out a small chuckle, “No, I mean. You didn’t know? About my feelings towards Ryan? I thought everyone did? Even my boss knew. Former boss, now, I guess.”

“What?” Kez groans, “Ryan made it seem like he had no chance with you!”

“Well,” Min drags out. “I haven’t really confirmed anything to him, and when I tried on the phone he cut me off!”

Kez picks up her mug again and takes a drawn out sip, “What the hell, man! So, that means you’re gonna tell right?”

“Uh, I-” he rubs the back of his neck. “I wasn’t really… thinking about it? But I also didn’t plan to be here when I woke up this morning.”

He sighs, decides to be vulnerable before he thinks too much about it, “I don’t really think he’d want to hear it anyways. Not after… everything.”

Kez groans lightheartedly and smiles softly. “I’ve never seen Ryan grow that close with anyone before — like, the amount of chemistry you guys have is more than palpable. Even after… everything, I can tell there’s something there. I could probably slice it with a knife, man.”

She picks up her mug off of the coffee table, takes a sip, sets it back down. “When you left, Ryan waited. Even when I told him I wasn’t sure about you coming back at all, or even wanting to. And then, he told me after the call that you said you were gonna come back, I guess I was surprised? But, like, mostly, I realized you and Ryan’s… whatever, is uplifting? Like, you’re here, after quitting your job and taking a risk to pursue a childhood dream!”

Her smile turns more reassuring as she puts a hand on Min’s shoulder, “He might need time, but, like, I think you should tell him.”

“Okay,” he stands up. He’s done a lot of spur of the moment actions, so he might as well do it now before he thinks about it too much. “Let’s, uh, go?”

“No, man.” She stands up, makes a stop motion with her hand, and grins widely. “We gotta make this the greatest shit he’s ever seen. Come on!”

. . . 

Kez took him to the store despite his protests. They leave the store with only a box of mini store-bought cupcakes — and she wanted to buy heart stickers to stick on the box, and letters to have the cupcakes spell out I love you. Thankfully, Min’s protests worked that time, and all they have now is a box of twelve mini vanilla cupcakes, plus what he’s sure is his nerves coming to haunt him and sweaty palms.

His phone buzzes once in his pocket and he doesn’t bother to check it until about five minutes later: another buzz. He sets down the cupcakes in front of his seat and it buzzes again. 

The first notification is from a CBC Radio post. It’s normal until he realizes it’s actually about him — well, NAT Prospect, but they’re the same person technically. 

CBC Radio:

We’re afraid to announce that NAT Prospect has stepped down from the position at CBC Radio. We will post updates if more information comes.

The comments were… interesting. They were either filled with crying emojis, angry emojis, vaguely weird threats, or people speculating who actually runs — or ran, should he say — the account. He decides not to read too much into it; if people know who he is, he doesn’t want to know about it.

BREAKING NEWS!

Beloved CBC Radio critic NAT Prospect has stepped down from the position after running blog for five years, and working at CBC Radio for two! 

He doesn’t even bother to read the rest. He’s pretty sure he knows more about his old blog than anyone else does, and he definitely doesn’t need to be reminded of the fact that he is unemployed and taking the biggest risk of his life.

Ryan

YOU QUIT YOUR JOB??!?!

Oh. Well, so much for the surprise, he guesses.

Min bounces impatiently and anxiously, “Are we almost there?”

Kez shrugs, “Yeah? Should be like a few minutes. What’s got you all pushy all of a sudden?”

He shows Kez the text, well aware he probably shouldn’t be distracting her while she’s driving, but it’s fine, the damage has already been done.

“Shit!” she looks back at the road. “Man, your old job totally just, like, ruined the surprise!”

“Voila!” Kez parks and unbuckles her seatbelt. “Don’t worry, Min-man. The surprise goes on anyways! Follow me!”

Min holds the cupcakes like a lunch tray in his hands as Kez rings the doorbell — of what he can only assume to be Ryan’s apartment, and it makes his hands sweat more with the thought of it. She turns around and gives him a smile and a thumbs up.

“Yes, yes, hi-” Ryan looks up in his front doorway, staring wide-eyed, still covered in red hues unsurprisingly — and something about it makes his stomach flutter, but he’s too nervous to think about it. 

“Min?” his eyes dart back and forth between Kez, Min, and the cupcakes. “What the fuck?”

Kez smirks and shoots finger guns, “Surprise, Ry-Guy!”

“Hi,” he blinks before furrowing his eyebrows, “I have a lot of questions but… uh, come inside?”

Kez practically runs inside and goes into the kitchen — maybe because she actually wants something or maybe because she wants to leave them alone, who’s really to know. Min stays near the front door, mostly because he’s nervous and has no idea where to go.

Ryan smiles nervously after he shuts the door, and Min reciprocates the smile. It’s funny how comfortable Ryan makes him feel while also being the reason for the fact that he’s nervous.

“Are you gonna share those?” Ryan points at the cupcakes and his smile turns sheepish.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Min looks down at the cupcakes in his hands as he stutters, “I, uh- we got them for you.”

He flushes before he looks up and Ryan says oh without making a sound. He walks over to the couch and motions for Min to follow, and he does, because he wants to, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

They eat in silence for a moment, and Min can hear inaudible mumbles coming from Kez, like she’s on a phone call — and she probably is, and it’s probably Phoebe on the other line. 

“I-” Ryan speaks before taking a breath. “Why did you quit?”

Min smiles, but it’s quick, and he shrugs, not looking back at Ryan.

“Because you were right,” he pauses. “I didn’t like working there anymore. And, for once, I did something impulsive — it scared the shit out of me, and it still does — but, there’s something… cool about it.”

Ryan smiles, like he’s so full of excitement and fondness and it makes him want to disappear on the spot. He doesn’t, though, he just smiles back on instinct. 

Ryan nudges him with his shoulder and wiggles with excitement, “So, does this mean we’re gonna be a band now? Chicken Choice Judy?”

Min’s face turns bright red, because of how close Ryan is, because it’s taking him back to that late night in August. 

“Oh, um,” he stutters, “Yeah.”

Ryan notices the stuttering probably, because his eyes widen before he blinks and quickly moves further away. Pathetically, Min misses the contact, misses the warmth and the combining of color palettes.  

There’s a lingering sense of tension in the pause that they take — and he’s sure it’s interpreted differently by the two of them. He remembers the whole reason why Kez bought the cupcakes in the first place, why they drove to Ryan’s apartment in the first place. 

“Are you… sure?” Ryan says at the same time Min says, “Ryan-”

He blinks, smiles disbelievingly, “What? Yeah? Of course I am. I wouldn’t have quit my job if I wasn’t.”

“It’s just… after what happened before, what I said, what I did. I mean, like…” he falters. 

Min shakes his head, “The whole reason I’m even here right now is because of you. I wouldn’t have even gotten this kind of… opportunity without you. And I came back for you, because-”

He falters, and he doesn’t know why his voice decides to shut off just when he’s about to say something really important. 

So, instead, he does what he’s wanted to do since that late night in August, under the constellations, leaning against the side of the tour bus — he collides their lips together, making the colors get their pigments back, aligning the stars in their rightful places. 

They let go, and it reminds him of that same day, when they sit in silence and then look away before changing the subject. 

Ryan’s cheeks are bright pink, and he’s sure his own probably are, too. 

“What… was that for?”

Min raises his eyebrows, “Did you think the kiss meant nothing?”

He points an accusing finger at him, “You!”

Min just smirks and raises his hands, “What?”

“You like me!”

“Uh, yeah?” he lowers his hands down slowly. “I thought it was obvious!”

“What?” Ryan’s finger points rapidly, “Of course it wasn’t? I didn’t even know!”

“Wait!” Kez interrupts as she runs into the living room, “Can you two do that again? Had I known you were gonna do that now I would’ve chosen facetime.”

“Hi!” It’s Phoebe speaking through the receiver of Kez’s phone, “Congrats on the wedding, is Stephen really invited? I can just lie to him.” 

“I’m asking the big questions here!” Kez puts her mouth closer to the speaker, “So, are you gonna, or what?”

“No!” Min replies at the same time Ryan says “What’s going on!”

“Shit, have you guys done it again without communication?” she groans and so does Phoebe on the line, “Ugh, just get your shit done already, and I expect it to be done this time. Bye!”

It’s silent again, and he can hear the inaudible mumbles again and internally rolls his eyes. 

And they speak at the same time again, Ryan saying “So,” and Min saying “I’m sorry-” like they’re in sync — and they probably are. 

“Sorry for what?”

Min flushes, in slight embarrassment and slight fondness, “Because. You told me you liked me and I panicked and I left without saying goodbye, or anything.”

“Don’t be,” he sighs. “I tried to push you, and you weren’t… ready. But, you’re ready now, right? Chicken Choice Judy, ah?” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“We’re so not calling the band that.” 

“What? Of course we are.” Ryan smirks, “What else would we call it?”

Well, to be fair, Min’s pretty sure Nevsky and the Prospects is off the table now, considering it’s directly connect to NAT Prospect — and, also, he’s not sure if anyone is aware of himself being the former music critic, and he’s sure that if they aren’t, that the band name would be a dead giveaway. 

“Okay, whatever.”

They’re silent again after Ryan smirks triumphantly. Maybe the silence could last longer, but Min’s internally facepalming because he hasn’t done what he’s supposed to be doing, the whole reason he came here in the first place — and, surprisingly, it wasn’t just to kiss him.

“Ryan,” a surge of confidence, the tingling of his lips, “I like you.”

He flushes and stutters out, “Okay, yeah. Me too. You, I mean. I like you, I mean.”

Min flushes back despite trying to appear more confident than he actually is.

“So,” he reaches his hand out in the space between them, “we’re in this? Together now?”

Ryan softens and smiles fondly, nodding his head before taking Min’s hand in his own, “Yeah. I think so.”

There’s a swift motion between their intertwined hands and their fond glances at each other that the space between them closes — because they’re doing what he’s longed to do, since August, since they did it just about fifteen minutes ago. The colors from their palettes blending together into a shade that’s so indecipherable, that can only be described as an awakening, an epiphany, all the stars being put back where they belong and the constellations shining overhead.

And he doesn’t bother to care when he hears Kez and Phoebe snickering in the background, and when he hears claps from them as they let go. They’ve both just become a hazy background noise to him — and probably both of them, really — because all he can focus on is being engulfed in the warmest awakening, in the comfort of knowing that all the pieces are right where they should be and that the stars have crossed the right paths. As always.

Chapter Text

“Wait, okay, stop moving!” 

“I can’t see anything! You took my glasses! I might as well be blind now!”

“Look, I’m almost done, so just stay still unless you want your hair to look shittier than it already is.”

“I still don’t know why I couldn’t have just slicked it back– Ow . You like it that way, anyways.” Min’s sure he’s got his eyebrows raised teasingly, but he’s too busy to get flustered since he’s trying to braid Ryan’s hair — per Kez’s request and little training. 

Min finishes, and it’s not bad . It’s good enough for a first try, he guesses. 

“So, can I have my glasses back now?” Ryan asks once Min finishes tying the rubber band to the bottom of the messy braid he made. 

There’s a knock at the door before he can open his mouth to answer. He gets up to open it.

“Can you at least tell me where you put them!”

It’s Kez, “Hi! Done with braiding? Cause I’ve gotta get moving or you two are gonna be late.” She walks inside and Min closes the door from behind her. 

“Ryan!” she shouts out. “I don’t have all day, and nor do you! Let’s go!”

Min walks back over to grab Ryan’s glasses and gently puts them on his face, smiling fondly once they’re on and he knows Ryan can see him. He returns the gesture, filled with the same amount of love and fondness, and it makes him want to melt down on the floor — just like it always has.

So, there’s a lot happening at the moment. Kez is dragging Ryan into a room in Ryan and Min’s shared apartment — which is just Ryan’s apartment, an unspoken thing between the two of them, as most things are. Kez is also planning… something, hence the braiding and the eagerness to get moving. 

Knocking comes from the front door again, which is less expected. When he opens the door, it’s Phoebe.

“What the… fuck?” he narrows his eyebrows in sheer confusion, “Aren’t you supposed to be running NAT Prospect 2.0?”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t post under a pseudonym, because I’m not a coward like you,” she walks inside, and Min closes the door from behind her. “Secondly, to answer your confusion, Stephen gave me a day off so I could aid Kez in the ‘future wedding planning.’”

Min flushes — well, he starts to, until Phoebe grabs his hand and drags him through the apartment. She knocks on the closed door of him and Ryan’s now shared room. 

Kez opens the door frantically, and only enough so that her face can poke out, like she’s keeping something a surprise. Her face softens when she sees Phoebe.

“Oh, hi!” she raises up one finger, “Give me a second and I’ll give you the stuff.”

There’s inaudible mumbles that come from the room before Kez opens the door again and hands Phoebe a bag before turning to look at Min, “The braid you made was hideous, man. Have I taught you nothing?”

Min shrugs before being dragged away by Phoebe. The rest of the time is a quick blur of actions that he’s still not entirely sure of the reason for. Phoebe’s styling his hair, trying (and failing) to put eyeliner on him, and handing him a pile of clothes from the bag and demanding him to put them on. 

The clothes are normal to his surprise, like something coming out of his own closet full of clothes — a blue polo shirt, khakis, the only pair of slightly dressy shoes he owns. 

“What’s your plan here, exactly?” Min asks Phoebe when he walks out of the bathroom.

“Huh. Kez was right about the shoes, surprisingly.” she says aloud, looking down at his shoes before turning her head away from them and speaking again. “Remember what you said to me on the phone, like, a week and a half ago?”

He raises his eyebrows, “What does this have to do with anything?”

“You said, verbatim, that boyfriend is a strong word, because Ryan isn’t your boyfriend.” she crosses her arms, “So, Kez thought you both could use some help since that’s the case.”

“Well, we- we don’t need any help, thank you.” Min rubs his hands on his shirt out of nervousness, “Which means we can end this now.”

Phoebe just smiles, like she knows too much, like she’s been in this situation with him before — which she has not, might he add, but the perks of being the first friend he’s ever had is that she knows too much about him. 

“You like him a lot, don’t you?” Her tone is sincere and soft, and it makes him nervous about being vulnerable. She sighs and speaks again when Min doesn’t reply, “It’s okay to, you know?”

Min let’s a small smile reach his face. He’s sure by some definition that’s out there somewhere that, yeah, him and Ryan are boyfriends. They just haven’t said it out loud, just like they don’t say it out loud that they live together, or sleep in the same bed every night, or that four-letter word that they still haven’t said to each other yet despite the feeling being evident and laced in everything that the both of them do. 

He sighs, “I just don’t want to… hurt him again.”

Phoebe puts a hand on Min’s shoulder and smiles reassuringly, “If you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

Min scoffs, and Phoebe narrows her eyebrows in response.

“I mean it!” She crosses her arms. “You came here to run towards something. And I’m not just talking about joining a band.”

Min stays silent, mostly because she’s right again. He came here to pursue his dream of being in a band, sure, but he also came here for Ryan, hence why he’s been living in his apartment for the almost month he’s been here, hence why Kez and Phoebe are doing all of this in the first place.

“Besides,” she speaks again, grabbing onto Min’s arm in the process, “Kez and I planned probably the best date in existence, so you’ve both gotta go.”

Min flushes as the protests in his head come out as inaudible stutters. 

. . .

He sees Ryan again after a long drive — well, actually it wasn’t that long, it just felt like it when Phoebe refused to say anything about where she was taking him, and why him and Ryan had to take separate rides there, and why both Kez and Phoebe were dropping them off when they are both equally capable of driving wherever they’re supposed to be going. 

And when he does finally see him at their destination, which is a park that’s not far from Ryan’s apartment that they’ve all seen plenty of times so he’s not sure why it was a surprise in the first place, or why Phoebe classifies it as the best date in existence , well, the words in his brain failed to come out of his mouth, failed to be comprehensible. 

Ryan’s wearing that same dumb outfit, the same one with the red hues laced into it, the same one that made his cheeks glow red when he saw it for the first time. His hair is slicked back — which is better than the shitty braid he was forced to do, but so much for him wasting his time doing that when he could’ve been doing… anything else. 

“Hi.” is what Ryan says when they reach each other, an expression so full of fondness, softness, it makes him want to melt into the grass under him, but he always feels that way, anyways. 

“Hi.” He’s sure his cheeks are glowing red the way they were before, but his face softens along with Ryan’s, so it’s alright, he supposes.

“Why don’t you two,” Kez moves closer to the both of them, taking the two out of their daze, “Look at this amazing setup that both Phoebe and I created for you gay bitches, sit down, do some more gay shit, and we’ll go.”

Phoebe and Kez leave in a rush, faster than the both of them can comprehend what’s actually in front of them — a purple picnic blanket under a tree, with a picnic basket sat on top of the blanket, covered in twinkling fairy lights. It’s like, an actual date, one that couples go on, one that people who casually say I love you to each other go on. Something about it is overwhelming, but that’s the whole reason for why he quit his job spontaneously to come here, right? So, he shouldn’t be nervous, or overwhelmed. This should’ve happened almost a month ago.

They sit in silence, Ryan opens the basket as Min examines the items he takes out of it in silence as the sun goes down, as the sky turns into a red-orange hue that reminds Min of Ryan, and something about it makes his entire body warm. He’s sure if anyone were to look at them now, as they’re silent, sitting under a tree, unpacking a picnic made for just them as the sun sets, they would think they’re in love, that they say it often, that they call each other boyfriends and have for a long time. They don’t, though, and that’s the problem — well, at least, it’s the whole reason why they’re here right now, dressed in nice outfits, looking as if they’re the biggest power couple in the city. They’re not, because they’re not a couple.

Also, no ones outside in this moment, which is slightly out of character, since it’s not that late, and it’s not dark yet, but he doesn’t think about it too much. He’s sure if there were people outside right now, they’d recognize Ryan and everything would be, well, less enjoyable to say the least. 

“Sorry about your braid,” Ryan speaks up, opening up a ziploc bag filled with chocolate covered pretzels, taking one out and taking a bite before offering the bag to Min. He takes one out of the bag, too, and takes a small bite. 

“It was Kez’s idea!” he says after swallowing, “She called me on the phone and demanded that I needed a braiding class with absolutely no context.”

“Well, good news is that now you get to see me in my prime.” He puts an arm around Min’s shoulders, and he’s sure his cheeks are pink again, and he’s sure that they always are around him. “Slicked back hair and this pretty rad red blazer.”

“Rad?” Min furrows his eyebrows, ignoring the fact that Ryan is millimeters away from him at this moment, and that he’s still got his warm arm wrapped around his shoulders, and that he’s got that usual sparkle in his eyes. “What is this? The eighties?”

“Can a man not say rad anymore?”

“No,” Min shakes his head and takes another pretzel out of the bag, “The bright red eighties-style glasses were enough for me.”

“Oh,” he wiggles his eyebrows, pulling his face closer to Min’s — not that they weren’t already extremely close to begin with. “So you admit that you do like my glasses?”

Min rolls his eyes, but smiles fondly, and he’s sure he’s blushing too, mostly due to the fact that there’s not much space between the both of them, “I didn’t say that.”

“Eh, well, you implied it, so that’s enough for me.”

They talk about nothing important for most of the time, and it starts to get darker the longer they stay outside — but it’s okay, since there’s fairy lights attached to the picnic basket thanks to Kez and Phoebe. Since Min’s arrival in Montreal after quitting his job, Ryan and him have spent most of their time trying to make a song that’s single worthy for the debut of Chicken Choice Judy, to Min’s dismay that is what their band is going to be referred to as. That’s what they try to spend their time doing on the purple blanket Kez and Phoebe provided for them — and it’s funny, he gets the joke of the combined color palettes or whatever, and all it really does is remind him of what the purpose of all of this was really for. 

And he thinks that maybe something should be happening in this very moment, instead of them talking about whatever it is they’re talking about, instead of them trying to come up with words and melodies for songs they’re thinking about creating. Maybe he should be surging up from his seat, grabbing Ryan’s face and pulling him in for a kiss and dramatically letting go before making an equally dramatic love confession as the stars start to come up in the sky. 

He’s not sure how to initiate it, though. Is he supposed to wait until there’s a moment of silence, is he supposed to just get it over with and just spontaneously say what he wants to say? The whole point of him coming here was to be spontaneous, to steer away from familiar and just focus on achieving something he’s always wanted to achieve, do something he’s wanted to do — and he isn’t just talking about the band. 

Ryan’s sticking his tongue out when Min turns his head to look at him, and he’s pretty sure it’s either the warmth that rises up to his cheeks or the one that engulfs the rest of his body that gets him to speak. 

“Ryan?”

His head sticks up, like a confused deer in headlights, and it’s endearing to look at. He hums in response.

If the warmth was talking for him, it’s not anymore, so he’s left with his nervous sweating and pink cheeks, and he has no idea what to say in this moment, and he’s pretty sure he’ll crumble under Ryan’s stare right this second.

“Do you-” he stutters out, “Can I-”

He internally cringes at his sputters of unfinished thoughts that he’s not sure his own mind finished before he said them aloud. The only thing his mind can think of now, is back when Phoebe practically broke into his Toronto apartment, when she said I have concluded that I should not ask, only do.

So, he does. He takes Ryan’s face into his hands, pulls him closer until their lips touch like they have plenty of times before, because it’s not a new sentiment. It still feels like the combining of colors and creation of new hues and stars combining together to create new constellations in the sky, because it always does. He’s pretty sure this is what love feels like, he’s pretty sure this how couples, how boyfriends feel when they kiss each other, but they’re still not officially any of those things. They’re just two boys who are born on the same day, same year, in the same small town in BC, who have the same passion for aspects of music — and, really, all of that just translates to: star-crossed lovers and soulmates. And, yeah, it kind of makes sense. 

They let go, and Ryan just smiles dopily, like he’s drunk on some sort of feeling. If he’s like Min, then it’s probably that four-letter word that he should just let come out of his mouth already. 

“I love you,” Min says, drunk that same feeling, letting the warmth speak for him that he almost doesn’t realize what he just said. Maybe he would be overthinking it, but he didn’t take a five hour train ride almost a month ago for this not to happen.

Ryan blinks in bewilderment, like he can’t comprehend what’s going on, “You do?”

Min just smiles, big and wide and stupid, filled with emotions he can’t really pinpoint, and it’s like the day he decided to be spontaneous, only this time now he’s not quitting something, he’s beginning something.

“In, like, a bandmate-that-I-kiss sort of way or, like, I want to date you sort of way?” 

Min furrows his eyebrows and shoves Ryan in response, “Is that what I am to you? A bandmate that you kiss? Do you kiss your bandmates?”

Ryan shrugs quickly, “Well, yeah, you.”

Min rolls his eyes, “So? What’s your answer?”

Ryan blinks again, rapidly, like he’s trying to process what’s happening around him, “Answer for what?”

Min takes a dramatic breath before gently taking one of Ryan’s hand into his, “Boyfriends?”

Ryan’s eyes widen as his cheeks flush red, and it matches every other part of him that glows in red hues, “Like, us ? You and me?”

Min flushes too as he looks down at their intertwined hands, and he shrugs nervously — so much for that surge of confidence, “Yeah. If you want.”

Ryan furrows his eyebrows and grins widely, the same one he always does, the one that makes Min want to melt on the spot, “Of course I want to.”

And their lips meet again, as the sky turns from it’s red-orange into a dark blue and as the constellations start to flicker in the sky, as the colors start to blend into each other and become a whole new color that paints the two of them. As everything becomes entwined and as everything is put where it belongs, it’s no doubt that everything is as it should be. 

“I love you too.”