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Seungmin’s guard is lowered when he finds himself shoved to the side, nearly tripping over his own feet because someone pushes past him to stand in front of him, essentially taking his spot in the crowd.
He’d been mid-conversation with Hyunjin, and cuts himself off to glance incredulously at the stranger in front of him before looking back at his best friend.
“What the fuck?” Seungmin mouths.
Hyunjin, who’d helpfully grabbed Seungmin’s arm when he’d been knocked off balance to keep him from falling, responds less helpfully now. He just laughs at Seungmin.
Before they’d arrived today, he had been the one to warn Seungmin about what GA at live concerts is like, telling him to stand his ground because people might be pushing and shoving to get to the front of the crowd. Seungmin had dismissed his concerns. People weren’t that rude. People are basically good.
Seungmin amends his worldview and personal philosophies now, as he brushes his jacket off and frowns hard at the person in front of him who’d pushed his way into his spot. People are basically rude as fuck, he decides, and says as much aloud to Hyunjin.
“That was so rude. Who shoves people like that? I could have died,” Seungmin whines, undoubtedly loud enough for the stranger to hear. It’s fine, though; having grown up in California, he and Hyunjin always opt to shit-talk and gossip in Korean when they’re in public. No one around them can understand them, even the stranger who’s now standing about 2 centimeters in front of Seungmin.
“He didn’t shove you,” Hyunjin points out diplomatically, and Seungmin scowls at him. “What! You didn’t see it. It was more like he slithered by you. Ssss.”
He puts his palms together and wiggles them, and Seungmin swats his hands away before Hyunjin’s snake mimicry can poke him in the tummy.
“Still. He’s an asshole. We got here first, and now these two are in front of us.”
Seungmin gestures quite obviously at the stranger who’d shoved him and the man beside him, who’s basically standing right in front of Hyunjin even though Seungmin and Hyunjin got here first.
Except now that Seungmin really looks at them, he realizes that the stranger is pretty short. Seungmin straightens, and finds himself almost a full head taller than the man in front of him. Seungmin’s view of the stage remains completely unobstructed.
“You know what?” Seungmin laughs to Hyunjin, still in Korean. “This is actually fine. He’s so short. I’m not that mad.”
Hyunjin, however, pays him no mind, completely transfixed by the rude stranger’s friend, the one standing in front of Hyunjin. He’s also thankfully short, and not blocking Hyunjin’s view at all. He’s also extremely muscular, and Hyunjin has gone bug-eyed staring at his biceps, which are straining out of his T-shirt.
“Okay, I’ve lost you,” Seungmin sighs, turning back to focus on the front. He had forced Hyunjin to get ready in time for once, and they’d arrived early enough to be fairly close to the stage. Now, he has an excellent view of the artist bounding on stage, the track suddenly blasting over the speakers as she runs in with a mic in hand, and the crowd erupts into cheers.
Seungmin knows the first song well. It’s one of the catchiest songs from the new album, and nothing, not even the rude short man in front of him, is going to ruin his concert experience.
He whoops loudly, genuinely excited for the concert to begin, but a small part of him takes pride in the way the stranger in front of him jumps a little when Seungmin cheers basically right into his ear. Seungmin is almost moral enough to feel bad for what he’s about to do, but he’s definitely not too moral to do it.
He sings every word to the first song. He would have done it anyway, since he happens to know all the lyrics, and singing along to music is one of his favorite things to do anyway. But singing is even more fun knowing that he’s tormenting the person in front of him, who absolutely deserves it for pushing Seungmin and stealing his place in the crowd. Sure, he’s short enough not to block Seungmin’s view. But Seungmin despises rude people, and he’s not holding back. The stranger’s height gives him the perfect disadvantage of having to listen to every word Seungmin sings into his ear.
“No one's gotta know, just us and the moon til the sun starts waking,” Seungmin sings during the second song, an upbeat tune that moves fast and is full of wordplay. He doesn’t even have to think to sing along, that’s how well he knows this song. Hyunjin whoops at the end of the verse not for the artist but for Seungmin, elbowing him with an impressed wiggle of his eyebrows for singing the melody and getting all the words.
Seungmin looks bashfully at Hyunjin, a little shy to be caught jamming so hard even though Hyunjin has probably heard Seungmin sing every day since they became friends years ago in middle school. When he turns back to the front, he catches a glimpse of the stranger’s side profile before he whips back around, like he’d been glancing over his shoulder at Seungmin, likely annoyed by now.
A pleasant shiver of smugness runs down Seungmin’s spine, and he decides to double down. He sings the entirety of the second song too, letting himself sing more quietly in falsetto when the artist hits notes he can’t quite reach. He refuses to not sing if he knows the words. Besides, he and the stranger are pressed so close to one another in the crowd that he’d be able to hear Seungmin even if he were whispering.
The third song on the setlist is lesser known. There’s quiet chatter around them as the slow instrumentals start up, and while Seungmin knows exactly what’s about to play, he can see questioning looks on the faces of the people around him.
“What song is this?” the stranger asks his friend.
“Dunno,” his friend responds, with a shrug of his massively muscular shoulders.
“It’s Backburner,” Seungmin says to Hyunjin, wanting to help without directly speaking to the stranger. Hyunjin just glances at him, confused, since he hadn’t asked.
“I know,” Hyunjin says. Seungmin gives him an awkward toothy smile, and joins in with the chorus.
He keeps singing along, because he can’t help himself and he likes this song too, but Seungmin undeniably knows this song a little less. Halfway through the second verse, he fucks up the lyrics, and he sees the stranger in front of him laugh.
Or at least, he sees his shoulders shake and his head duck low, and Seungmin thinks he hears a pleasant melodic giggle, but the venue is loud and crowded and Seungmin is standing behind him, not in front, so he can’t hear the stranger as well as he can hear him. For the first time, he wishes it were the other way around, and quickly dismisses the thought.
The next two songs on the setlist are sad ones, two of the slowest and quietest songs from the new album. The stranger in front of Seungmin lifts up a phone to record the performances, holding it in the perfect spot to block Seungmin’s view of the stage. He huffs and has to reposition himself at least eight times before he can see the artist again without the phone in the way.
Seungmin isn’t rude, unlike some people. So during the sad songs, he makes sure not to be disruptive or loud. He sings all the words he knows, quietly enough not to annoy anyone around him, just loudly enough to continuously bother the stranger in front of him.
After the slow songs, the artist switches guitars and chats with the audience some more. Hyunjin takes the opportunity to lean closer to Seungmin.
“You still mad at the asshole in front of you?” he asks in Korean.
“Nah,” Seungmin replies. He’s been enjoying the concert, and enjoying getting revenge just as much.
“Are you guys having a good time?” the artist onstage asks. Seungmin cheers as loudly as he can, laughing when he sees the stranger in front of him jump in surprise, grabbing onto his friend’s large bicep.
“Good,” Hyunjin tells Seungmin after they’re done cheering. “Because I wanna bang his friend.”
Seungmin turns to him. “You’re so crass.”
“I’m just being honest,” Hyunjin says before nodding at the stranger in front of Seungmin. “What changed your mind about him? Is he hot or something?”
“I’ve only seen, like, a fourth of his face,” Seungmin says, rolling his eyes.
“And?” Hyunjin asks insistently.
“I guess it wasn’t bad,” Seungmin concedes.
The next song is pretty popular. The crowd jumps around and cheers loudly when they recognize the opening instrumentals, and a lot of people around Seungmin pull their phones out again. He’s transfixed by one screen, though. The stranger in front of him is holding his phone again, although now his front camera is on, and he’s recording himself instead of the artist. Pink and red lights flash in the venue as the bubbly love song plays and the crowd around them sings. The stranger slings an arm around his friend’s shoulders, recording the both of them shouting the lyrics and singing along.
Seungmin spots himself in the recording first, tall and obvious behind the stranger. Then his gaze lowers and he sees the stranger’s face on the screen. He’s bouncing excitedly with his friend, nose scrunched up when he hits high notes, his front teeth prominent when he’s smiling so brilliantly. Sweat shines on his forehead beneath his bangs, and when his friend sings, the stranger cheers him on through silly ad libs.
He’s pretty.
Shit. Seungmin is in the recording, and he’s visibly gaping at how pretty the rude stranger is.
He turns his attention back to the stage, trying to remember the lyrics, although his memory momentarily fails him and he sings the wrong verse until Hyunjin laughs at him and sings loudly in his ear to get him back on track.
The artist takes another moment to switch guitars and talk before she plays the next song. She mentions how much she loves coming to LA, and proclaims her preference for the west coast over the east coast. At that, Seungmin cheers as loud as he can, while Hyunjin boos, having gone to uni for four years on the east coast.
“In-n-Out. We win right there,” Seungmin yells in Hyunjin’s ear.
“You’re only saying that because you’ve never been to the Empire State Building!” Hyunjin yells back.
“Does the Empire State Building serve burgers?”
As he dodges Hyunjin’s shoves, Seungmin notices the stranger in front of him elbowing his friend too, loudly taking a stance for the west coast while his friend tries valiantly to defend the east coast. The part of him that had wondered if the stranger and his friend were actually dating is appeased quickly when Seungmin overhears them arguing.
“He’s right, dude, nothing tops In-n-Out,” the stranger shouts.
“Big deal!” his friend shouts back. “New York pizza rules, bro!”
Unless they’re the type of couple that calls each other dude and bro, they’re not dating. Seungmin finds himself strangely relieved, and a little flustered to be spoken of.
But he quickly refocuses on the artist. He can already tell what song she’s about to play based on her mentioning the coastal debate, and he pulls out his phone to record before she even starts playing her guitar. The next song is one of Seungmin’s two all-time favorites; he’s screamed and cried along to this one in countless noraebang and karaoke rooms.
As the audience settles and the music starts, the stranger in front of Seungmin glances upward and seems to notice Seungmin recording just above his head. He reaches up and quickly flashes a peace sign in front of Seungmin’s phone camera, their first and only acknowledgement of each other over an hour into the concert.
Seungmin giggles, endeared. He can’t help it. He can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed to have laughed right into the stranger’s ear.
But before he can respond, the first verse starts, and Seungmin finds himself singing along with Hyunjin. For a moment, he doesn’t think about anything else, he’s so excited to be watching a live performance of one of his favorite songs.
“I’m missing our drunken 2 AM strolls in K-town.”
Seungmin bellows that lyric in particular with Hyunjin, particularly proud as a resident Korean, and realizes belatedly that they’d sang the line in sync and with the same amount of enthusiasm as the stranger and his friend.
The friend doubles over in jovial laughter, and turns to smile at Hyunjin as the song continues. The two of them spend the rest of the pre-chorus lowkey singing to one another, singing sad lyrics in a silly melodramatic way, bonding the way strangers do at concerts and music festivals and drunkenly in the bathroom of a dance club, and Seungmin feels fond watching them.
And then the stranger peeks over his shoulder at Seungmin. He glances at his friend and Hyunjin, and then back at Seungmin with a meaningful raise of his eyebrows, and Seungmin beams at him.
And then the chorus kicks in.
“All my demons run wild,” Seungmin sings, and he can’t help but sing to the stranger, who’s grinning so widely at him, singing along to every lyric too. “All my demons have your smile.”
By the end of the first chorus, the four of them are singing together, brought together by one of Seungmin’s favorite songs, giggling as they serenade each other as if they’re old friends. Fuck. He loves music.
When the song ends, the artist playing the last few melancholic chords on her guitar, Seungmin cheers wildly for her, ears ringing as everyone around him cheers too. She thanks the crowd for their enthusiasm, and takes a moment to sit down in a chair on stage with her guitar in her lap. As she gets settled, Hyunjin makes his move.
“I’m Hyunjin!” he says, lowering his head a little to introduce himself. The stranger’s buff friend, the one who Hyunjin has been eyeing, who turns rosy pink when he looks up to meet his gaze, shakes his hand with a shy smile.
“I’m Changbin. This is Minho.”
Hyunjin just beams and says something polite and friendly about making their acquaintance, but Seungmin frowns. While Changbin and Hyunjin chat, he looks at the stranger—Minho—wary and exasperated. Minho just smirks at him. He must know what Seungmin has realized.
“And what’s your name?” Minho asks him in Korean.
“I’m Seungmin,” he replies in Korean. “Sorry I said you were a mean asshole.”
“Sorry I was a mean asshole,” Minho answers.
Hyunjin elbows Seungmin before he can respond, and the four of them turn back to the artist to listen to her speak. Minho is in front of Seungmin again, facing away, soft brown hair illuminated by the dim lights in the venue. The tips of his ears are pink.
“This is the point in the concert where I like to ask you guys what you want to hear me perform,” the artist is telling the crowd. “So shout out your answers!”
Immediately, the concert hall is filled with incoherent shouts. Hyunjin giggles at the chaos of it all before bouncing on the balls of his feet to request a song, but Seungmin tries to give it a moment of thought. He likes a lot of songs by this artist. He wants to pick the perfect one.
“I like you!” he finally yells, and Minho shifts on his feet in front of Seungmin. He doesn’t look over his shoulder.
“I heard I Like U, you guys wanna hear that one?” the artist asks, and the crowd cheers. “Okay!”
Minho looks over his shoulder then, and grins at Seungmin.
For the next three minutes, Seungmin is all but forgotten by Hyunjin, who is recording the acoustic performance with his phone resting on Changbin’s head, giggling when the shorter man huffs cutely and tries to shake Hyunjin off. Seungmin opts not to film this song, instead just enjoying the song, singing along and hitting all the riffs because he’s spent many a late hour practicing them alone in his room.
“I just can’t seem to figure you out, you got that mystery. Good god, how you kiss me,” Seungmin sings. Minho peeks over his shoulder to find Seungmin already looking at him, and looks away with an shy smile. For the rest of the song, Seungmin thinks he might be imagining Minho quietly oohing and ahhing, although there’s no doubt he’s just enthralled by the artist onstage and her voice.
“God, I wish you were mine. I like you, I like you, I like you.”
Minho undeniably leans back into Seungmin, making him trip over the next few lyrics as his breath stutters in his ribcage. But he leans into it too, his chest against Minho’s back, close enough that he can feel Minho laugh at him even though he can’t hear it because the venue is too loud, everyone cheering as the song ends.
Seungmin looks down while everyone cheers to find big brown eyes peering up at him. He has to look away from Minho’s gaze, his heartbeat tripping clumsily in his chest, but he wraps an arm around Minho, resting his hand lightly on his waist.
“Hi,” he murmurs.
“If I had known that hugs make you pipe down, I would have started the concert like this,” Minho says, his fond tone softening the edge of his teasing.
“Maybe I’m just trying to get in the best position to sing in your ear for the rest of the night,” Seungmin shoots back, sliding his arm further along the silky material of Minho’s shirt so that it’s wrapped all the way around the front of his waist. He’s encouraged when Minho settles his hand over Seungmin’s. Locked in an embrace like this, Seungmin imagines that they look like the couple that he had spotted a few feet away, that had initially made him roll his eyes. But he doesn’t feel as cheesy. For one thing, Minho takes such joy in openly insulting Seungmin. For another, Seungmin is completely enthralled by him, too captivated by the light, airy sound of his voice as Minho teases him to care what they look like.
They’re already swaying together when Seungmin’s favorite song starts, soft notes strum out into the open air above them, warm orange casting a pretty shadow over Minho’s features.
He’s been looking forward to this performance more than anything, and now that the song is playing, Seungmin wants to remember it. He takes his hand away from Minho just for a moment to pull his phone out, but when he looks back up Minho is regarding him with a frown and plucks his phone out of his hands. He turns back to the stage, holding the phone up and hitting record. With his other hand, he pulls Seungmin’s arm back around his waist.
“I’ve got a better view,” Minho explains as he films the performance on Seungmin’s phone.
“Thank you,” Seungmin says, hopefully too quietly for his phone to pick up, because even he can hear how infatuated he sounds, wrapped around this pretty, brazen stranger whose eyes glint in the colorful lights of the concert venue.
“Pay attention. The song is starting,” Minho says dismissively, but he keeps looking over his shoulder at Seungmin, long lashes batting as he blinks. Seungmin isn’t sure what he wants from him, and tentatively starts to sing the opening lyrics. Minho nods, satisfied, and warmth spreads in his chest like water spilling out. Seungmin leans closer to the reddened tip of one of Minho’s ears, and sings.
A lot of the people around them are waving their hands or their phone flashlights in the air, slowly moving to the beat of the song, and Minho moves slightly in Seungmin’s arms like he’s barely aware he’s doing it. He keeps Seungmin’s phone still, though, recording a steady video as Seungmin focuses on the artist and her lyrics.
In certain angles, light glints off the surface of Seungmin’s phone screen and he can see his reflection. He spots Minho, too, immersed fully in the song. He’s silent, but his lips move, forming soft shapes as he mouths the words. When Seungmin holds a long note, voice trembling in a quiet vibrato, he feels Minho shiver. The song is already beautiful, it’s one of Seungmin’s favorites. Listening with Minho, it feels sacred.
In the song’s outro, the artist takes a step back from the microphone stand, gazing fondly at the crowd as she lets them sing her lyrics back to her. Seungmin knows every word by heart and sings them dutifully, feeling goosebumps raise on his forearms when the whole venue sings along, forming a chorus of hundreds of voices. His throat is starting to feel a bit strained, and Hyunjin is definitely tearing up beside him, but all he can hear is Minho joining in, his voice like honey as he sings the last few lines of the song.
They lock eyes when the audience bursts into cheers. It’d be useless to try to talk right now, the crowd around them almost deafening, so Seungmin just looks at Minho, captivated by him, though a little flustered by the intensity of his gaze. The artist bows and disappears from the stage, and the crowd quiets momentarily before calling for an encore, not wanting the night to end. Seungmin feels the same.
Sweet and soft like cotton candy, Minho leans up to speak in Seungmin’s ear.
“I wanted to be annoyed at you the moment I saw you, for being tall and clueless and blocking the view of everyone behind you. I definitely wanted to be annoyed at you once i got in front of you and you called me a kaesaekki,” he says. “But then you started singing, and I didn’t care about anything else anymore. All I could hear was you. All I wanted to hear was you.”
Seungmin tosses his head back and laughs up into the open air above them. He pulls Minho a little closer to him, so that he can practically feel Minho’s heartbeat reverberate in his own chest.
“For what it’s worth,” he says into Minho’s ear, “I’m sorry for calling you that. And I’d be happy to sing a little more for you, if you want to give me your number…?”
Minho grins at him. He’s still holding Seungmin’s phone, so he exits the camera, navigating to the contacts app and entering his number.
Then the artist bounds back onto the stage to sing two more songs for her encore, and Seungmin lets Minho go from their embrace so they can jump around with Hyunjin and Changbin. Minho never goes far, always bouncing back into Seungmin’s arms and smiling when he hears Seungmin sing.
--
Several hours later, in the middle of the night, Minho is tipsy. He’s just a little buzzed on the soju he shared with his roommate Changbin, along with Seungmin and Hyunjin, the two lovely boys they’d met tonight at a concert.
Of course, out loud, he pretends to be disgusted by the two of them, both of them silly and adorable and excited, exuding golden retriever energy when Minho is obviously a cat person. But Hyunjin is sweet to Minho’s best friend, and Seungmin is… Eccentric. Funny. Observant. Painfully cute, and perhaps worst of all, he has the most beautiful voice Minho has ever heard, and he gets to hear it for free.
“Come on,” he grumbles, pulling Seungmin off the couch where Hyunjin and Changbin have passed out, Changbin’s head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, Hyunjin’s hand in Changbin’s lap. The two are snoring peacefully, and Minho quietly makes his leave with Seungmin in tow, grasping his sweaty palm tightly.
Minho is tipsy, and Seungmin kind of is too, although the flush in his cheeks isn’t as bad and only makes an appearance now when Minho looks at him for too long.
Minho pulls Seungmin into his bedroom, but they don’t do anything. He just tucks them both in comfortably, pulling Seungmin into his arms and making sure the lights are off and it’s pitch black before he lets himself ask what he’s wanted to ask for hours now.
“Sing for me?”
And Seungmin sings Minho to sleep.