Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Yoonsup breaks up with him, Jangsik gets a cat. He’s got an apartment to himself now and the part of him that hurts a bit more than he’s willing to let on to anyone thinks- why the fuck not? 

It’s not out of spite or even some poorly thought out coping mechanism.

She’s a grey fluffy cat, pink button nose and round eyes. He names her Sona and by evening, she’s eating out of his hand, purring contentedly in his lap. She doesn’t meow a lot and the relative silence in his life is a good break from Yoonsup’s incessant nagging and everything really.

In true cat fashion, Jangsik loves her a lot more than she loves him. It’s fine by him. He’s used to those kinds of relationships too.

You got a cat?  

-Hyungwoo texts him after he sees Jangsik’s pictures from KaKao talk.

Yeah, so?

It’s cute. I like it.

-is all Hyungwoo says back, but what he really means is ‘what the ever loving fuck are you doing Ham Jangsik?’ He travels a lot for his job, across the country for stretches of weeks and to suddenly have a living, breathing animal under his care is a bit irresponsible to say the least.  Hyungwoo's gone a lot too, covering different news stories across the country and it means a lot when he spares the time to check up on Jangsik every now and then.

He of all people should know that anything beats coming home to an empty apartment, and that Jangsik's not the type to promote animal neglect. In fact, Jangsik’s already looking up the directory for some pet sitters that’ll help him take care of his new cat when he’s gone. 

It’ll work out, he tells Hyungwoo.

If you say so, is Hyungwoo’s dry reply and because Hyungwoo is a good friend and maybe because he knew Jangsik better after all, comes over the next evening with a handle of straight vodka and a sheepish look on his face.

They drink for a couple of hours and only when it’s nearly sunrise, with his face pressed up against his cat’s too soft fur, does Jangsik let himself cry. It’s the only time he does, for the record.

Jangsik has always liked cats, loved them even and it’s fitting that he gets what he wants now that Yoonsup has stepped out of his life. It’s not for good though, it never is. Yoonsup is back before the end of the season and Jangsik hates himself a little bit for letting it happen.

The second time is easier. They kiss more than they talk, a feat considering the size of Yoonsup’s ego. In their time apart, Jangsik has changed a lot and Yoonsup even more.

He’s still as obnoxious as ever and Jangsik wonders if they each keep coming back for each other or just for the plain idea of familiarity.  

The breakup is honestly telegraphed. Jangsik is gone too often, flying and living out of hotels for Yoonsup to feel like he’s getting he’s breaking even with this relationship. To be fair, Yoonsup’s got just as much on his end of the plate. He’s getting promoted and too busy being a likeable and dependable businessman to really put the time into a relationship anyways.

Or that’s what he tells Jangsik shortly before Jangsik slams the door in his face, for the second time. Sona mews softly and all too sadly as Jangsik watches her curl around his ankles and thinks he’s maybe left her to be too lonely all this time.

He’s more cognizant of getting the repercussions of getting a second cat, but the marginal work of getting a second cat as opposed to raising one alone is relatively small. It’s with that logic, he comes home with Nami tucked under his arm and another set of cat toys and catnip plants. She’s a cute tortoiseshell, and for whatever reason, loves the water. Nami and Sona get along wonderfully with Nami being more than talkative enough to make up for Sona's relative silence. 

Yoonsup comes back a third time shortly after they see each other at Hyungwoo’s wedding to some crazy plant scientist.

“Botanist”, Hyungwoo corrects him with an easy smile. “And the wedding” he says with a slightly more pointed expression. “Is on the 29^th."

Yoonsup looks silly in a suit, but Jangsik gravitates towards him all the same in his equally unflattering sweater vest. They make small talk until enough wine kicks in and it’s like a bad habit he can’t kick when Yoonsup drags him by the wrist to lead him away from main reception and kisses him silly against a wall.

They don’t get back together officially, but it doesn’t stop Jangsik from stopping by the local animal shelter and picking up another cat. Among all the habits he has, this one might be the worst of all. His third cat is a playful, dainty tabby and he names her Lulu.

He’s not exactly sure why he keeps getting female cats, but they’re great company and they make him happy. Sona, Nami and Lulu sleep on the corner of his bed and when it’s cold, they snuggle up to his chest, cocooned together with him and his blankets. For what it’s worth, Jangsik doesn’t mind having to lint roll his pants three times after leaving for work at the start of each week.

“Do what makes you happy”, Hyungwoo tells him one night with the kind of joy only a guy on his honeymoon can express and Jangsik finally listens.

On Monday, he quits his job and decides he’s finally had enough time away from home, zooming around the country and living out of coffee canisters.

By Wednesday, he opens a cat cafe because he sure as hell has enough cats to fill a cafe now.

Chapter Text

When Lee Sanghyuk is five, a flower speaks to him for the first time.

His grandmother is no more than five paces away when the lily by the sidewalk tilts her frail, white face to him and whispers a secret to him. He almost doesn’t hear her murmur against the wind, but it’s unmistakable to a child’s ears- keener than any adult could hope for.

Overtime, he learns to listen for their chatter, the gossip of daffodils and the snickers of crabgrass. They teach him each of their names and how to tell them apart. Sanghyuk likes games, likes memorizing puzzles and anything that’s a challenge.

He’s a quiet child by all means, and it’s not as if there’s anything wrong with him. He just prefers books to trivial chatter, the feeling of soft grass against his bare ankles as opposed to the sterile sensation of the classroom.

They try to fail him out of middle school on account of missing too much class, but Sanghyuk’s grades are too high, too promising for even the most irked teacher to make the threat come true.

“Sanghyuk is gifted” they say, as if to reassure themselves. “Sanghyuk is different.”

Different is one way to put it. By the time he was seventeen Sanghyuk’s Korea’s leading botanist. At first his older colleagues make jokes until they see his work and then they shut up for good and defer to his opinion. They still poke fun at him over time, but with more awe in their voices than what makes Sanghyuk comfortable.

He’s barely 21 and half-way into his PhD when he meets a reporter who might love his job as much as Sanghyuk loves plants.

It’s weird to say that Sanghyuk finds him fascinating, but he most definitely does.

Hyungwoo is a rare flower, and Sanghyuk wants to scrutinize him to learn everything- wants to set him under a microscope to see if all his veins and bones map out as beautifully as he thinks they do.

Hyungwoo’s in town to cover an environmental disaster, some horrific chemical spill that’s damaged the nearby creek. Sanghyuk is the first person he contacts for a professional opinion on the piece.

Together they walk around the creek and there’s nothing beautiful about it. Fish flood the creek, belly-up and pale with death and Sanghyuk can only hear the agony of the trees, weeping into the chemical wind that stings at their cheeks.

Hyungwoo watches him carefully as he kneels by the grass and presses his palm against the earth. It’s not until Hyungwoo quietly hands him a tissue does Sanghyuk realize he’s tearing up.

“I’m not,” he stammers, but Hyungwoo only smiles and urges him to take another as snot starts pooling down his nose. “I’m really not, it’s just.”

“Yeah,” is all Hyungwoo says and the silence that follows the two of them is comfortable, as somber as it is.

A week later Hyungwoo’s the one left stammering as he fishes two tickets out of his coat pocket and thrusts them in Sanghyuk’s face.

“Are you busy tonight? There’s uh…He’s a famous pianist touring the country right now, really young, just a prodigy like you even,” Hyungwoo explains, a prevalent blush on his cheeks. “I did a news piece on him last year when he won the Van Cliburn and he sent me these and I didn’t want to go alone so-“

Sanghyuk watches him ramble on, cheeks going redder and redder, and accepts the tickets into his own hands. They start dating after that and in that time, Hyungwoo shares more secrets with him than all the flowers on the earth have ever told Sanghyuk.

Sanghyuk thinks it’s only fair that Hyungwoo gets some secrets back.

One night when they’re back at Hyungwoo’s apartment, tucked on the couch together, Sanghyuk kisses him. Their fingers are linked together in a way that makes Sanghyuk think of how climbing ivy entangles itself with other plants, never letting go.

It’s not until Hyungwoo kisses him back, does Sanghyuk tells him that his dream is to put a flower a moon, somewhere out in space.

It’s an audacious plan and if there’s anyone who could make it happen, Sanghyuk takes it as a personal challenge to do his part.

If God put flowers to prosper on the earth, then Sanghyuk has no issue taking them to the moon because when you’re Lee Sanghyuk what can’t you do?

Chapter Text

Seunghoon is an oddity in the world of piano virtuosos to say the least.

His fingers first find the keyboard when his feet don’t even touch the ground yet, and it makes playing pieces that use the pedal difficult to execute to say the least. His small stature is hardly enough of a handicap to stop him from winning competitions against other pianists with years of experience over him.

At the age of 9, he wins juniors across all of Seoul and to the disappointment of his instructor, is deemed too young to even qualify for the senior entry level competition. Luckily that summer, he hits a growth spurt and his feet hit the ground, ready to push the pedals for action.

Playing piano is fun- a lot like playing a video game, not that Seunghoon ever has time to play games.

He’s too busy practicing piano which is…a lot less fun, but he does it all the same. He practices for hours on end, and any extra time he has is spent memorizing music, searing it into his brain when his fingers could no longer take anymore. He practices until his fingernails chip, and then after bandaging them up, practices until the bandages are worn thin and his fingertips bleed.

He works tirelessly and part of him knows, it’s not entirely all for him.  Seunghoon was born to be loud, to bring his fingers crashing to the keys and start a revolution. What he actually does is a bit different.

“Pianists”, his instructor states sternly. “Are not boastful.”

“True musicians,” his mother tells him as she wraps his fingers in bandages. “Are not loud. They listen for music everywhere.”

Seunghoon thinks he understands what they mean, but at the same time he’s already wondering what’s the harm in making music while you listen. What’s the point of multi-tasking if he can’t do both at the same time?

They say he’s young, idealistic and too progressive for an industry run by old, stingy men in penguin suits. Accordingly, his buoyant personality gets him as many critics as admirers.

“You know,” Yeujin tells him on a rare day when they’re both out of the practice studio long enough to salvage time for a proper meal. “You would have passed the class if you took the assignments more seriously for once, and not like, turned in some last minute paper to be, like, a rebel.”

He’s got a point, not that Seunghoon would ever let him know. Yeujin played the violin up until he realized his true love for Indie music and became a hipster.

“Which I’m not, like, by the way,” Yeujin says, glancing up from his notes. “You call everyone that doesn’t play classical music a hipster.”

Which might be true. Seunghoon doesn’t mean it in a derogatory way. Yeujin’s talented in his own right, even if Seunghoon gives him crap for giving up strictly playing one instrument.

It’s hard to make friends at the music conservatory first. Music majors, the classical ones at least, tend to keep to themselves and the ones that do peek their heads out of the practice rooms more than once a week, find Seunghoon’s exuberant personality a bit too much.

Everyone’s too focused on making their dreams come true, putting out music and having the world hear it already. It’s tempting to say the least. At least half of Yeujin’s class of music theory majors have considered quitting college to go work in the pop idol industry, but anyone with half a brain and one foot on the ground knows that it’s a pipe dream at best, a sell-out move in reality.

“Besides, being an idol is hardly making real music,” Yeujin tells him, pointedly. “Just ask Kyungho, he regrets it already.”

“Kyungho is different though. That guy just wanted to make people listen to him karaoke,” Seunghoon laughs and Yeujin hums in agreement. He’s scribbling bars in the margins of his notes again, no doubt penning down a melody of some sort before it escapes him.

“What about you Seunghoon?” Yeujin asks suddenly, lifting his head up from his flurry of notes. “Don’t you want to be heard too?”

At first, Seunghoon doesn’t care. He played piano for himself, to put a smile on his mother’s face, and for anyone who enjoyed music. It couldn’t matter less to him what some old, cronies mired in their self-importance wanted to say about him.

He puts the haters and their comments on the back of his sheet music and then burned them all. It’s always been easier playing from memory for him anyways.

The critics hated it, the crowd loved him. Love him or hate him, no one could doubt his genius.  

He wins a few piano competitions just to shut them up, but for Seunghoon the thing he loves most about playing is hearing the crowd jump to their feet at the end, completing the duet between them with applause.

“I just want to be heard,” Seunghoon tells the journalist cheekily in his post-win interview. He’s swathed in flowers, praise and the glory of the win. “But winning is nice too.”

The morning papers will have his face on the cover, which is flattering and all, but it’s what’s inside that makes Seunghoon unable to keep the smile off his face as he flips the paper open to read

Heo Seunghoon- part-time boast master and full-time musical icon. This piano virtuoso is one who plays with confidence, no- one that plays with ego and soul.

Chapter Text

He auditions with a Big Bang song of course.

The room is cold and his vocal chords aren’t properly warmed up when they tell him to begin. Kyungho doesn’t object, just gives them his best impersonation of TOP with a steely look and begins to sing.

To his credit, his voice only cracks twice.

The director barely looks up at him during the entire song. The other observers take notes on their clipboards, things that probably have less to do with his talent and more to do with his looks. His nose, they must think, will need work. His eyes too. At least he’s tall.

Kyungho bows once his performance is done and awaits judgement.

The director clicks his pen. The sheet on his board is blank, but he finally looks up at Kyungho- a glint in his eye like he sees something.

“You’ll do,” he says and there’s an indifference in his voice that should hurt, but doesn’t. Kyungho’s dreams are coming true and they’re happening right now.

---

Yeujin of course, the practical wet towel to all of Kyungho’s optimism, tells him otherwise.

“You know that only means you’re going to be a trainee,” he says, but he pours Kyungho a drink. They’re out celebrating his acceptance into Koo Entertainment. Kyungho is seventeen, practically a fossil compared to the usual age of trainees accepted into any company.

“Yeah,” Kyungho agrees. “But it’s something right?”

“It’s something alright,” Yeujin says. He beams up at Kyungho and raises his glass. “Congratulations!”

“I wish they had taken you too,” Kyungho says even as Yeujin shakes his head.

“What’s an idol group going to do with a classically trained violinist,” he asks and Kyungho wants to tell him, everything. An idol group with the two of them could do anything and everything, whatever Yeujin wants. They could bring classical jazz and trap together, baroque sounds and EDM. They could do it all, together.

“I don’t know,” he says instead. “But at least you’d be right on pitch.”

Yeujin pours him another shot and raises his own. He pauses after taking a sip, staring at the glass with a small frown.

“What is it?” Kyungho asks jokingly. “Did you forget to spike my drink so you can change my mind about this whole mess before I sign the contract?”

“Nah, it’s just.” Yeujin peers at him seriously. “You probably have to think about your image now.” His cheeks are pink and his voice is teasing. “No more of this underaged drinking stuff from now on.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Kyungho agrees. He pours himself two shots just to make it count, staring at the rosy pink of Yeujin’s cheek and wonders what it would be like to run the back of his hand across it, close enough to feel the heat.

---

The training room of Koo is small, but the staff are enthusiastic and energetic.

There aren’t many trainees in a company as small as Koo. They can’t afford to bank on so many, not the way that SM and YG can, and it makes the pressure, on the few that there are, immense.

Beomhyeon, their manager, greets him with a kind smile. He gives Kyungho a tour of the facility in all its modesty and there’s something about the worn down benches and the scratched wood floors that fills Kyungho with optimism.

<WE ARE SECOND, SO WE TRY HARDER> 

-the poster on the practice room wall proclaims loudly and while Kyungho hardly doubts Koo Ent. are second in anything, he still takes the quote to heart. He trains harder than anyone in the building, stays awake later than what's probably good for his developing eye bags. 

It pays off though and he gets through the weeks, crawling and panting, with motivation from Yeujin. Yeujin who has moved away to go attend a music conservatory in Europe, now lives 7 hours away and is eating dinner at night when Kyungho is dragging his dead body back to the dorm just as the sun rises. It's nicer that way, he thinks. He arrives home in time somedays to feel the buzzing in his pocket and the knowledge that tomorrow will be okay. 

Good luck today! If you see G-Dragon someday, tell him I love him.

Not before I marry him first,  Kyungho types back, and doesn’t stop to think how true that text could be before passing out on the couch.

---

Wangho is small, cute and everything any group would want for their maknae.

He’s also a brat, can’t sing and somehow, made it through the audition process on just the account of his charming personality.

“I sound fine with autotune,” Wangho huffs. “Every group uses autotune, I’ll be fine.”

“Stop making excuses and get to vocal rehearsal on time this week,” Kyungho says back, because it’s not like Wangho is really a threat to him, or anyone. Or maybe precisely how Wangho has made it so far with his disarmingly wide smile and his strangely pitched voice.

“Well then, come on hyung,” Wangho calls, pulling on his sneakers by the door. “I want to debut sometime this century.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kyungho says and it’s undeniable that he’s fond. He’s spent his life being smitten with pushy boys with skinny wrists and beautiful eye-smiles, and he’s not going to break that habit anytime soon.

Wangho grins back and tugs him forward by the wrist. “Then let’s hurry and debut together.”

---

They drift apart, him and Yeujin.

What started off calls every night becomes one call a week. That call becomes a text that doesn’t every now and then, Kyungho realizes with a jolt that he missed Yeujin’s birthday altogether.  They’d always celebrated their birthday’s together in the past, but now with Yeujin going to music school and Kyungho still toiling away every night in the small, sweaty practice room-- those days seem so long ago.

In November, Kyungho wakes up with an exuberant Wangho hovering over him.

“Hyung.” He pushes Kyungho’s arm, practically slapping it out of excitement. “Hyung, hyung, hyung.”

“What?” Kyungho

“I think,” Wangho whispers in excited tones. “I think they set the date for our debut!”

Kyungho grins, but it’s less exciting than he’d imagined it to be. Perhaps he’s grown, gotten even older, when the prospect of his dreams no longer daunt him. There’s more relief than anything else as Wangho grabs him in a hug, no longer able to contain his excitement.

“We’re going to debut!”

---

He texts the date to Yeujin and doesn’t expect anything back. That way it doesn’t feel disappointing when the message box shows up as <Read> and nothing comes back in reply.

In the time that he’s been a trainee, they’ve fixed his nose. Kyungho has lost weight. He wonders idly if Yeujin would even recognize him anymore.

---

He stands on stage in skin tight pants and just the right amount of blush on his cheek and thinks of Yeujin.

Their debut song is not a love song, nor is it a break up song. It doesn’t matter.

Kyungho brings the mic to his lips as the beat drops and thinks about their dreams.