Work Text:
"Hey Ryun, it's Viole. Do you mind if I turn in my draft a little later? I'm..." Bam swallows. "Stuck."
FUG Publishing House is not known for their leniency when it comes to deadlines, and being the nephew of its boss, the childhood friend of one of its agents, and the godson of one of its editors brings no benefits at all. Surprisingly, neither does being their biggest breadwinner. Even though his parents were the ones who got him signed with FUG, he feels like this might be a scam. Inspiration comes fleetingly, after all. He can't churn out stories like butter.
"Writer's block," he explains, rambling frantically, "been sitting in front of my laptop for days but I still can't think of a single thing! You told me I should spice things up a little in the plot but I don't know how... Or where..."
He knows his fans want more fight scenes. He can do that. Fight scenes are fine, he has martial arts experience. But the romance they're requesting? That's too much for him, especially after the only person he thought he ever could've loved had left him for someone better, something better. Maybe what they had was never love, anyway. Only one-sided devotion, because Bam didn't know any better.
"Ryun-ah," he begs weakly, "give me another week? Please?"
Soft laughter echoes on the other side of the phone, amused but far too deep to belong to his agent Hwaryun. "Sorry," the deep-voiced stranger tells him, alluring as the deep sea and smooth as velvet, bringing a strange heat to his cheeks, "but I'm not your Ryun."
Bam's mouth opens. And closes. "Oh," he says stupidly, "oh no."
He did realize that, just a few seconds too late. He pulls his phone away, heart sinking when he realizes that yes, not only had he accidentally called the number exactly one digit away from Hwaryun's, but he is also having a bit of a mental breakdown over a stranger's very, very sexy voice.
Mr Sexy Voice, as Bam has newly dubbed the stranger, only laughs harder.
"I'm gonna hang up," he informs the other person. He's at peak embarrassment. He's sure his face has never been this red before. This is why he only ever texts! He only calls for emergencies! Phone calls are terrifying. "Just... Forget I ever called! Or something!"
"Or something, hmm?" Oh god, Mr Sexy Voice is laughing at him. Bam is blushing from his cheeks to his ears and all the way down to his chest, but that ridiculously deep voice just sounds so good. Have they ever done ASMR? Or read audiobooks? They most definitely should. If Bam had any audiobooks, he'd ask the stranger to read them in a flash, regardless of who they were. "I'm glad you think I have a sexy voice, by the way. I make a living with this voice. It earns me a lot of money." Maybe he does do ASMR for a living! Bam makes a note to himself to search the stranger up somehow, but he has no clue where to start. "And no, I do not do ASMR for a living. Viewtube pay sucks ass unless you get a shïtload of views."
"Oh my god," Bam groans, "please, stop. I don't know who you are, you don't know who I am. I'm just embarrassing myself now."
"You called me during my break," reasons Mr Sexy Voice, "and you made me curious. So you should take responsibility by letting me help you with your writer's block. I was getting pretty bored anyway."
Bam flushes. Take responsibility? Why does that sound so suggestive? "I'm sure there are other things you could be doing than talking to some weird stranger who called you by accident and likes to think out loud. Did your parents never teach you not to talk to strangers?"
"You're talking to me," Mr Sexy Voice points out wisely. "My father never taught me anything besides what good wine should taste like, and my mother left when I was young. It doesn't matter, anyway. Not anymore."
Bam feels a rush of guilt. He thought he had it bad, being a social recluse with world-famous actors for parents. Most of the world didn't even realize the beloved V and Arlene even had a son, let alone one who was a famous writer. He still has a pretty good relationship with his parents, all things considered. He can't even begin to imagine what being disowned would feel like. "Sorry for bringing it up. I didn't realize."
"There was literally no way you could've known. And like I said, I couldn't care less about them. It's my father's fault that he can't keep his dick in his pants, if there's anyone to blame it's him. Dammit," he mutters, "it's too easy to be honest in front of strangers who don't know you when you're used to hiding behind so many masks you don't even know who you are anymore."
The two of them sit there in silence.
"Do- do you need to see a therapist?" Bam brings up tentatively.
He can't deny being a little curious as to who the deep-voiced stranger really is. The whole spiel about different identities was a painful reminder of himself, how the worlds of famous but mysterious fantasy novelist Jue Viole Grace and the young and sheltered Bam were one and the same, yet could never collide. But he has to respect the other man's privacy.
The stranger pauses. "Aren't you curious too?" He wonders. "About who I am?"
"Everybody has their secrets," Bam says in an echo of his godfather Jinsung's voice, "and secrets are kept for a reason. So no, I won't ask unless you want me to."
Mr Sexy Voice stays in stunned silence for a moment, murmuring something too quiet to hear but calling it off as nothing when Bam asks. "Is your story a secret too? Or can I ask about it? I'm a writer of sorts, maybe I can help."
"I write young adult literature," Bam mumbles. It's always awkward for him to talk to people about what he does for a living. It's probably some deep-seated embarrassment left behind by Rachel that Bam can't let go of. "Escapist fantasy, mostly, a little adventure. I've been incorporating fight scenes now, since it seems like that's what people like."
"That's pretty cool."
Bam perks up instantly. Something about the deep-voiced stranger is keeping him tethered to the conversation, unwilling to hang up. His heart is pounding in his chest, but like before, he has no idea why. He swallows, trying not to sound too eager. "You think so?"
"Mm. You know Jue Viole Grace? The guy who wrote about a boy trying to climb an endless tower to save his friend from the dark reality of her dreams?"
Bam doesn't just know Jue Viole Grace. He is Jue Viole Grace. And he'd started that series years ago, started drafting the first novel years before his only friend Rachel left him. Maybe it was some twisted act of fate, maybe it was karma. Or maybe he just knew it was coming all along. Nevertheless, he hadn't expected it to explode into popularity. "Yeah, I do. Why?"
"His writing is great," the stranger says dreamily, "the lore is so deep, and the main character's development from seeing things in black and white to killing for his beliefs so is dark and twisted but it's so good and I just can't stop reading. He's one of my favorite writers. I have all the 'Tower of God' books that are out, but I'm not allowed to go to any book signings... Anyway, I think I have pretty good taste in books, so if you write in the same genre as Jue Viole Grace you shouldn't be embarrassed about it. If I knew who you were, I'd read your books in a flash."
Bam squeaks, dropping his phone onto his bed. His face is aflame. Mr Sexy Voice has not only read all of his books - even the ones exposing the deepest, darkest parts of himself that he wouldn't even acknowledge in broad daylight - but owns all of them, and considers Bam one of his favorite writers?
He's going to have a heart attack.
"Hey," says Mr Sexy Voice, voice tinny over the phone, "you okay? Did you trip or something?"
"Or something," Bam mumbles breathlessly. Calm down, he tells himself, calm down, goddammit. He's just a fan.
His heart continues to pump in overdrive. That deep voice of his is sexy enough, but that loud appreciation for Bam's writing is even sexier. Bam thrives on praise, much to Hwaryun's concern.
Someone yells loudly on the other side of the phone, and Mr Sexy Voice yells back, just as loud. Bam winces. "Sorry about that. It seem like my break is over."
"Oh." Why is Bam so disappointed? If anything, he should be glad. But that stranger... Something about him was so attractive, and it wasn't just his voice.
"Sorry I couldn't actually get to help."
"No, no, it's fine!" Your encouragement was more than enough, Bam thinks to himself. He might, after all, have a new idea or two.
"It was really nice talking to you," Mr Sexy Voice admits. "See you next time?"
He wants a next time! Bam cheers in his head. "I'm free literally anytime! Call me whenever you want!"
Mr Sexy Voice laughs. God, what a nice sound. "Then I'll hear from you again, Weird Writing Stranger."
With that, he hangs up, leaving Bam standing in his room with his phone against his ear and his heart pounding against his chest.
Naturally, the first thing he does is call Hwaryun - for real, this time.
"You're telling me you found a new muse," Hwaryun deadpans.
Bam grins giddily. "Well, I'm not sure, but he's a great conversation partner! And he seems pretty cool!"
Hwaryun sighs, extra loud. "He's a stranger, Bam. He's just a random guy whose number is slightly different than mine. He's probably gonna forget all about you."
"He said I'm his favorite writer, Ryun!" Bam retorts. "He has all my books! Of course, he didn't know he was talking to me, but still!"
"There's an 'and' coming, isn't there?" Hwaryun grumbles.
"He has a super hot voice," Bam whispers like he's giving away a guilty secret. "It's so deep. It's like he made a deal with a demon for it. I want him to make my audiobooks."
He can almost hear Hwaryun pinching the bridge of her nose. "My god," she mutters, "why are you like this? Just get your book ideas down. I'll talk to you about it tomorrow. I have a date in five hours, which means I don't have time for your romantic bullshït."
Bam squawks. "What do you mean, romantic bullshi-"
Hwaryun hangs up before he can even finish his sentence.
Bam huffs. He didn't even get to ask Hwaryun about her date! He didn't even know she went on dates. She'd always come off to him as an independent young woman who liked to bully unfortunate men like himself. He tosses his phone onto the bed, trying to think about Mr Sexy Voice and his sexy nice words. He might as well get started with his work before the buzz of chatting to one of the most interesting people he's ever met since Rachel fades away. His muses never tend to stay for long, after all. He's used to it.
The next day, after discussing the possible directions for Jue Viole Grace’s new novel, Hwaryun introduces Bam to her new girlfriend Ehwa, who in turn teaches him all about her favorite boy band, Wider Sky, through a single photograph. "They're really good," she says with a faint blush, "Wangnan, the blonde one in the middle, is a childhood friend of mine." She sniffs haughtily, almost like she's trying to hide her pride. "He's just a stinky male ape, really. I don't know how he managed to get in the same group as A.A, let alone have A.A choose to rap so Wangnan could sing instead."
Bam cocks his head. "A.A?"
"The blue one," Ehwa supplies, pointing to a young man with slicked-back blue hair and a dazzling smirk, "he's the youngest one but he's like the honorary leader 'cause he's super smart and responsible. Wangnan's the official leader because he's been practicing the longest, but A.A's the one who's in charge of writing all the lyrics and doing the head counts correctly. Wangnan always forgets to count himself, what a dumbo."
Hwaryun watches Ehwa vent with a soft smile on her face, and when Bam raises an eyebrow she clears her throat. "Say, doesn't A.A have a pretty deep voice? Somebody might be into that kind of thing."
Bam chokes. "Ryun!" He hisses. Hwaryun just smirks.
Ehwa misses their entire exchange, nodding with blissful ignorance. "He does, actually! Bam, you should listen to 'White Heavenly Mirror', he's got so many lines in there. It's so good."
Bam is starting to think Hwaryun had only introduced him to Ehwa so she could make fun of him. He never knows what Hwaryun is thinking, so how is it so easy for her to poke all his buttons?
Hwaryun whisks Ehwa away not long later, preventing her from spending the rest of the day talking about her friend's boy band. Bam, with nothing better to do, spends a large fraction of his day looking into said boy band.
Bam could've sworn he'd started investigating Ehwa's favorite boy band out of sheer curiosity, but months later, he finds himself almost as obsessed as Ehwa. He learns about the oldest member Laure (who's the same age as Bam, and Bam's only twenty-six!), the main vocalist and dancer who seems to be permanently exhausted. There's Hockney, second oldest of the group, lead vocalist with a dreamy voice and a love of art and drawing. Wangnan is the middle child of the group, always making a fool out of himself to make the other members feel better. The main rapper and lead dancer Hatz is also a fencer, as well as the second youngest of the group.
And then there's A.A. He's the lead rapper, main visual and maknae, charming to the point of being smug and clever beyond his years. The only thing the fans complain about is that he's too mysterious - nobody knows his real name, or where he came from. Even so, something about him is achingly familiar to Bam, like they'd met in another universe. Maybe it's the way he smirks at the camera like he knows he has the fanbase wrapped neatly around his pinky; or the way he moves, each part of the choreography carefully calculated to showcase his flexibility and lean frame.
Or maybe it's his voice. Maybe it's the deep timbre of his words, the baritone echo of his voice. It's so familiar, like, like-
Like him.
He is the one Hwaryun likes to blame for Bam's decreased work ethic. Most of the time, novel-writing comes smoothly to Bam - he's got most of the plot down, but Mr Sexy Voice likes to text him every now and then about how his friends are annoying and his day has been a bore, successfully distracting Bam from writing any more than just the beginning of the novel. Much to Hwaryun's chagrin, the ending is still an uncertainty.
They're at a stage now where they could be called acquaintances, maybe even friends. It seems like neither of them have many of those. Bam's biggest flaw is the heart he wears on his sleeve, the heart that's been broken again and again. His mystery friend, however, does not dare to show his heart, keeping it caged inside him in fear of getting hurt. Somehow, they click like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Both mildly famous, a writer and a musician, part of a bigger picture neither of them can see just yet.
Bam tends to overshare, but his deep-voiced friend always reads his messages and responds sincerely. Bam’s phone buzzes from his butt pocket and he nearly jumps off his chair. Think of the devil and he shall call, apparently. It's been a while since they'd last talked over the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” croaks the man on the phone.
Bam frowns, instantly just knowing that something's wrong. And it's not a cold, despite the snuffling sound. "Are you alright?"
“Yeah,” grumbles the stranger. The snuffling continues. "I'm fine."
He's clearly not. “Do you want to talk about it?”
The man inhales sharply, exhaling with a huff. "I had a fight with my bandmate," he says quietly. "He does the composing, I write the lyrics. I try to work with him, I've been trying for years, but he never listens to me." He growls, too low to sound human. "Stupid samurai wannabe keeps defaulting back to making fun of my earrings every time I suggest something he's not happy with, instead of just discussing it with me like a normal person."
"And what did you do?"
"I punched him." What a simple answer, yet so typical. Bam has come to learn that his friend often turns to violence when insulted, although there are never full on fights. A kick to the shin here, a whack with a bag there. "My manager sent me out to 'cool down'."
Bam exhales, leaning back into his chair. He's seriously contemplating getting a degree in therapy or counselling. Everybody seems to come to him for their problems, and he has no idea why. If the deep-voiced stranger is indeed the mysterious A.A from Ehwa's beloved boy band... "Is there anybody else in your band who might be able to play the middle man while you two try to talk it out?"
"I suspect that nobody in the group actually likes me," the stranger whispers. "Stupid Seppuku Swordsman thinks I'm a stuck-up bïtch, Artist never talks to me, Leader is terrified of me, and Sleepyhead just turns a blind eye to everything."
All those nicknames sound awfully familiar. Like a certain boy band. "I think all of you need a group meeting to thoroughly discuss all of your issues," Bam tells him bluntly. Bam has told him that several times, but his friend is like a prickly cat who hisses and bites and scratches when unsatisfied. "Hug it out at the end, too. Hugs always make everything better."
"Ew," the deep-voiced stranger says petulantly, "I don't want to deal with feelings."
"You don't want to deal with feelings, but dealing with me being weird is fine to you?" Bam teases.
"I mean, I don't see any problems in me talking to you. We've been texting for ages, and I'm hiding in a closet. Nobody's going to catch me here."
Bam snorts. "Really? You're hiding in a closet? That's petty, even by your standards."
"Hey! Don't make fun of my life choices, they're mine. There aren't any mothballs or spider webs or anything in here, and that's good enough for me. You know how much I hate spiders."
"Yeah, I know." Once, while Bam was in the shower, the other man had sent him a series of voicemails, all full of unnaturally high-pitched squeaking. He was hiding on top of a table while a spider crawled around on the floor. It had taken ten minutes for his bandmate to come to his rescue and squash it with a shoe. Bam, only clad in a towel at the time, had laughed so hard he stubbed his toe in an unsurprising act of karma. "You told me."
"See? You're already better than my bandmates 'cause you listen to my bullshït and you remember. I assume your strongest impression of me so far is still that I have a hot voice."
"Oh my god," Bam mutters. His cheeks have returned to their tomato-like state. "I thought you forgot about that."
"But I didn't," Mr Sexy Voice gloats. "You know I'm right. I'm always right. The fans don't call me 'Sexy Genius' for nothing, you know. If you ever saw me I bet you'd agree."
Bam squints. Is- Is he being flirted with? "How can you be so sure?"
"I think I know who you are," Mr Sexy Voice admits. "If I'm right, your parents were in the same university class as my father. I don't think they're friends anymore, though. If they were, I would've met you and been your friend ages ago."
His parents' university classmates? "I said I didn't care about your identity yesterday, but you've made me curious. I don't give up on leads."
"Like Yoru from 'Tower of God'?"
Bam cracks a smile. He had, after all, based the main character of his novel after himself. Who knows? He may have even created a new character, based off his new friend. "Exactly."
Mr Sexy Voice exhales with a whoosh. He sounds thrilled. It's like they're playing a game of 'How Fast Can I Guess Your Public Identity', and Bam is losing. "So hey, um, how's your book-writing going?"
"Pretty smoothly," Bam answers. "I'll let you in on a secret - I'm planning to invite a special guest to narrate one of my audiobooks."
Even Hwaryun doesn't know that yet. It's all spontaneous. A test of sorts. Bam’s dad likes to play petty little tricks every now and then, to keep his wife and son on their toes. It’s usually a fun bonding experience, but that poking and prodding sometimes becomes like a dance, a competition to see who will give way first. There’s no winner or loser, of course.
“How interesting,” murmurs the other man. “I look forward to hearing it.”
Bam’s smile widens. If his guess is right, the stranger won’t just be listening to his audiobook. “Are you feeling better now?” He asks gently.
“Yeah, actually. I might - only might! - talk to my bandmates about stuff. So thank you.” He sounds almost shy, so quiet Bam has to strain or he’ll miss it. “I mean it.”
“You don’t need to thank me. You can call me anytime.”
Bam hears silence, a whisper not meant for his ears. “If you keep talking like that, what’s a guy like me supposed to think?”
With a sentence like that, what's Bam supposed to think? How is he supposed to interpret that? He doesn't answer.
“I should go.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of them hang up, not until a voice on the other side starts shouting for a blue turtle to come out of its shell.
"I gotta go," the man on the phone mumbles mournfully. "I guess this is goodbye."
"You can still text me, you know, don't talk like I'll block you."
Yelling and chaos ensures on the other side, and Bam sits silently in confusion as he listens to what sounds like a fight for his strange friend's phone. "Oi, turtle," roars an unfamiliar voice, "stop distracting Blue Turtle from his work! He won't shut up about you!"
"Fück you, Rak!" The other man screams, voice cracking mid-sentence. "Give me my phone!"
"Blue Turtle's too much of a coward to meet up with you, so just meet him instead! He's K-"
The line cuts off.
"What the hell, Rak."
Bam doesn't even know who Rak is.
He gets lucky when he meets up with his parents for dinner. Prodding around the topic of their university classmates helps narrow the pool of who his phone buddy could be. The only two with sons are Arie Hon and Khun Eduan.
"We could set you up, if you want," V suggests, "we know you're not into girls."
"There's something a little off about Hon's boy," Arlene hums, "the oldest one, at least. The younger two are fine, but I don't think they're your type."
"Oh god," peeps Bam. "I'm fine. I don't need a boyfriend."
"We know how lonely you've been without us," Arlene tells him softly, "you've been hiding away ever since she left."
Ah, Rachel. Forever the elephant.
"Mom, I'm fine." Bam cracks a smile. "Really."
Arlene squints. "Really? Because I think Eduan's boy might be your type. A few years younger, but he's quite good looking, if I say so myself."
"Hey!" V splutters.
"Of course, you're the best," Arlene reassures him, "I would've never married you otherwise."
"I thought you married me for my personality." V pouts like he's not in his late fifties.
Bam looks away when Arlene gives him a sweet peck on the lips. "I fell in love with your personality first."
"Ahem." Parental PDA is always awkward.
"Don't you wish you had someone to cuddle you like this?" V asks curiously. "It doesn't have to be romantic."
"I have pillows." Bam is pretty sure that his friend, which at some point in time had developed into a possible crush, is not into cuddling anyway. "It works the same way."
"I still do think you'd get along well with Eduan's son. I'm not sure what he's up to these days, but maybe you could ask around. I think he sings."
"I think he raps," Bam mutters under his breath. Khun Aguero Agnis. A.A. Blue Turtle. 'Mr Sexy Voice'. Of course, they're all the same person. What else could be the truth?
V looks far too interested for Bam's liking. "Oh?"
Bam shoots up, wiping his mouth. "I gotta go!"
"You only get to see us once a week, won't you stay a little lo-"
The screech of Bam's chair as he trips over it interrupts her sentence. "Sorry Mom, Dad! I'll see you guys next week!"
"Hey, Jue Viole Grace! Come back here, young man!" V manages to splutter as Bam bumps into the door, pushes instead of pulls it, and finally runs off.
Bam's anxiety only increases as the time passes. He's sure of his mysterious friend's identity now, Hwaryun and the rest of FUG Publishing have been working on contacting Wider Sky's entertainment agency. The only problem now is whether A.A will appreciate the surprise.
Almost too soon, the fateful day comes.
They're meeting up at a recording studio - him, Uncle Mirchea, A.A and Rak Wraithraiser, A.A's manager.
From the minute he steps in, A.A is already staring at Bam suspiciously. Bam is just staring. Pictures from fan-sites don't do A.A justice - even with the bare minimum of makeup on, the other man is gorgeous: sky blue bangs curled just where his thick eyebrows are, suspendium blue earrings bringing out the color of his eyes. Bam himself knows he's not bad looking either, but he doesn't hold a candle to A.A's beauty.
Bam cracks a smile, extending a hand and desperately trying to hide how badly it shakes. "I'm Jue Viole Grace. It's a pleasure to meet you in person. You can call me Bam."
"Believe me, the pleasure's all mine." He takes Bam's hand in his cold, clammy hands. "I'm A.A, but you already know that, don't you? Just call me Aguero."
His voice cracks halfway through his name, and they both laugh. The blush on Aguero's face intensifies. "Oh my god," he whispers, hiding his face in his hands, "I had a feeling, but it's you. It's actually you." Aguero fans his face desperately. "I can't do this with a straight face."
Bam grins. "Surprise, Aguero. Good to finally have a name and face to the voice, hmm?"
"You're a lot younger than I imagined." Aguero shyly peers up at Bam through his eyelashes. "A lot better looking, too."
Bam's eyebrows shoot up. Aguero is much bolder than he'd expected, but Arlene wasn't wrong when she said Aguero was Bam's type.
"I hope I'm interpreting the signs correctly," Aguero mumbles. His cheeks are an adorable shade of pink. "I don't want to make a fool out of myself."
"I think you're cute," Bam can't help but tease. Behind the confident façade, he can barely hear his own words over the pounding of his heart.
"Oh!" Rak points at Bam, realization dawning. "Black Turtle! You're the Distracting Turtle! Why did you ask for Blue Turtle?"
Aguero grabs onto Bam's hand, a mischievous gleam in his deep blue eyes. "Run away with me?" He whispers.
Call Bam a sappy fool, but Aguero has made him happier in the short time they've known each other than Rachel ever had. He grins, intertwining their fingers. "I'm all yours."
Aguero smiles viciously, the look on his face positively sinful to match his voice. "Good."
(If Bam ends up pinned against a wall having the life kissed out of him, that's his and Aguero's secret to keep.
And Hwaryun's. She knows everything, after all. She's Hwaryun.)
A.A has been acting strange lately.
Wangnan knows A.A's been busy lately, with Jue Viole Grace asking him to read his audiobook and whatnot. But Wangnan has known him for long enough to catch and understand the subtle nuances of his behavior, even if he appears scared of the younger man to the public.
Wangnan has nothing to fear from cool and competitive A.A. But an A.A who takes the initiative to confront problems head on, even in the wrong? An A.A who smiles and tells him everything will be fine when he clogs up the toilet of their shared dorm? An A.A who doesn't threaten Hatz with violence when Hatz makes fun of his earrings?
That A.A terrifies him.
That's right, the A.A he's scared of is the one who's gone soft.
Naturally, as the leader of their little boy band, Wangnan takes it upon himself to find out why.
Weeks of creeping around the younger boy end up with A.A getting suspicious and Wangnan getting no information. Well, they have a fan-meet tomorrow. Wangnan always sits next to A.A - he has the whole day to work things out.
When tomorrow comes, Wangnan makes sure to seize the seat next to the bluenet before anybody else can. A.A shoots him a strange look, but returns to typing frantically onto his phone. Wangnan wonders who he's texting. The fans start flooding in, and Wangnan nearly forgets about his mission. Most of the fans are the same: the regulars give them the occasional gift, always telling them "ahhhh A.A you're so handsome!", or "Hockney, I love your singing!", and an occasional "Wangnan best leader!"
This new fan, however, feels a little different. Dressed in a long coat with brown hair tied up in a short ponytail, Wangnan can't deny that the man is handsome. There's something familiar about him, but Wangnan, for the life of him, can't think of why. Maybe it's those haunting gold eyes. The man walks up to A.A and plops himself on the chair on the other side of the rapper's table, pushing his copy of Wider Sky's latest album towards the rapper.
Wangnan strains to listen to their conversation.
A.A signs it with a flourish, pushing it back without looking up.
The stranger grins, propping his head on his hands and leaning closer. "Aren't you gonna say hi?"
A.A looks up and gasps, a smile spreading on his face. "Bam! I thought you said you couldn't come!"
Wangnan tries very, very hard not to gawk. A.A looks positively delighted, and Wangnan can only call his smile radiant. In the long five years that they've known each other, Wangnan has never seen the cool, coldhearted A.A smile like that. It suits him. Just who exactly is this Bam? And how long has A.A kept him a secret for?
"I wanted to surprise you," says Bam. He tucks a stray strand of pale blue hair behind A.A's ear, and A.A leans into the touch. Wangnan can't help but look away at the sheer domesticity of it all. It feels like a scene out of a romance film he's not permitted to watch.
Wangnan must've gotten busted, because A.A immediately jerks away as if he'd been burned. "Not here," he mumbles, "we can't."
Bam clears his throat, hiding his hands in his pockets. "Of course."
Something glints in the light of the hall, and Wangnan can't help but look over. There's a suspendium blue ear-cuff clipped to Bam's ear, and at some point in time, A.A had replaced his expensive blue studs for a pair of gold dangling moons.
Suddenly, everything clicks.
A.A has a boyfriend, one who mellowed him out by being the perfect balance.
"I'll see you tonight?" A.A asks hopefully. Yes, that's it. Wangnan sees it now - A.A is in love.
Bam's smile is equally soft and loving. "You know I'd never miss the chance to see you."
Wangnan hides his smile by sipping on his water. He'll keep A.A's secret, of course. What else would a leader do?